#slight tone dissonance

[softshuji]

11:16AM | HAITANI RINDOU

Summary: Rindou knows he loves you, he just has a hard time saying it. In his case, actions speak louder than words. Likes and reblogs appreciated! Link to my masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, mild descriptions of violence and injury, mild suggestive content, mild sexual content, lots of kissing, marking, use of pet names (pretty thing,princess) Rin and reader being down bad.

Rindou thinks he knows the exact moment he fell for you. It’s not special, nothing explosive and there are no fireworks bursting with colour in his chest like he’s been made to believe. It’s nothing like he thought it would feel in fact. It felt a little like falling, like weightlessness creeping into his bones, jelly-like. Inevitable.

You’re talking animatedly and his head is inclining in your direction as he listens, one hand propping up his chin and the other resting on his knee. Clenching and unclenching, tightly wound with sparks whenever it accidentally brushes your leg under the table. 

You lean forward to tuck the hair kissing his cheeks behind his ear and Rindou freezes. You move on and rock on your chair, as if you haven’t made his heart punch against the flesh of his chest.

He glances both ways instinctively looking for Ran, and his stupid smirk that seems to creep over his shoulder whenever something even vaguely embarrassing happens. But there is no Ran, there is no rumbling chuckle just around the corner, no teasing. Just you and him. He watches your eyes flick to him every few seconds, then drift to the distance as you mull over your thoughts and Rindou can only swallow against the lump now growing in his throat, a pathetic and even futile attempt to calm the blood pulsing in his veins.

‘Rin? You alright?’ Your eyebrows furrow and your hand instinctively moves again to tuck the stray strand of silky hair behind his ear and Rindou thinks you must be denser than he is if you can’t sense the hairs on his arms standing on end or his cheeks flush under the weight of your stare.

‘Hm? Yeah, fine.’ Futile once again. He coughs into his hand, hoping it doesn’t betray the slight waver in his voice. ‘What were you saying?’ He realizes at that moment, how painful it is to be around you, the dissonance between wanting to touch you and then not, the confusion of those feelings, a mass churning in his head. 

Of course he looks down periodically, and his hair slips from behind his ear and your hand moves on instinct to tuck it back, your fingers lingering near his neck and Rindou feels sick with how much he wants to feel them on his skin and kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Perhaps in hindsight, the exact moment he falls for you is somewhere before all this. Perhaps it’s the moment he first stumbles through your door, wincing and clutching his side as his hand catches the doorframe, his shirt torn open to reveal a red and angry pulsing gash licking at his skin, his toned abs flexing under the strain of pulling himself onto your sofa. Your hands are tender, soft, hesitant even as you bunch the cotton in your fingers, squeezing the excess water out as you dab at the split in his lip. 

You tut under your breath, an eyebrow raised, as you are prone to do he knows, when you are pretending to be exacerbated and admonish him for being so careless. He wonders how your eyes can be so kind and gentle when your voice is so stern and he’s bleeding out on your sofa, wonders at how you haven’t cried or screamed or shook when the blood seeps between the gap in your fingers. 

Your smile is reassuring and you kiss at the apple of his cheeks as his eyes flutter with fatigue, whispering your assurances as he bites down hard on his lip, suppressing the pain he pretends not to feel, as you know he is prone to do.

‘You’re an idiot,’ you say and press the gauze to the skin that reveals pinkened torn flesh and he groans, throwing his head back as his fists tighten on the corner of your hoodie. His hoodie in actuality. Despite this, your thumb traces a line down the fine hairs on his stomach, the black whorls that sneak below the waistband of his trousers and his breath hitches as your eyes flick to meet his. You think of slipping your hand beneath, your thighs splayed out on his as you whisper against his mouth, rocking slightly against his hips till his breath is hot on your skin and you’re all but swallowing his moans. 

But you don’t. Instead, you chastise him and stand, taking the bloodied wads of cotton to the bins and leaving him to sleep with an old blanket that smells of you. It’s fear that’s eating you up, a cavity gnawing tightly on your stomach. Fear, shame, anxiety, a word that curls in your head as you toss and turn at night in your own bed, separated by a single wall from him. 

Rindou holds your blanket to his mouth, his nose and he wonders at all the lost possibilities he’s carelessly thrown away as the dawn gives way to a morning of buttery sunlight, and you both think of each other as you sleep. 

Perhaps in retrospect, the moment he falls for you  isn’t that either. Perhaps it’s the day his call first goes to voicemail and he finds he’s pouting as he listens to the automated message. And the barrage of calls only grows, his anxiety seemingly heavier with it till he’s all but racing to your apartment with his gun firmly in his hand. He can’t keep the urgency from his voice when he tells Ran as he thunders from the building, his words clipped, the sweat on the back of neck making a steady trail between his shoulder blades.

‘Rin, it’s probably nothing,’ Ran says as his Brother pushes past him, slamming the car door and driving off as the exhaust fumes curl in the air.

‘Y/N always answers my calls,’ he tells himself, a pathetic attempt to quell the thunderous beat of his heart against his ribs. 

But when he arrives, slamming the door open with your name on his lips, music drifting from the open kitchen door, his anxiety is quelled like water to a fire. Because there you are, your back to him, a sundress flaring around your waist, golden sunlight falling over the lip of the window. And humming, a low sound undulating the soft chords thrumming through the speakers.

‘Y/N?’ A whisper, all he can manage as the gun finds its way back into the waistband of his pants. 

You turn swiftly on your heel,dropping the spatula that’s halfway to your mouth and Rindou catches the faint dusting of white icing sugar smeared on your cheeks. He takes a step. Two. Three. His arms instinctively come around you, and he smells strawberries on your skin, your hair, on the smidge of cake mixture on your lip that you dart your tongue out to lick up.

‘Rin?’ you say, the spatula clattering to the floor, your arms coming to rest against the flat of his back, your breath hot and sweet on his neck.

‘Why didn’t you answer my calls?’ His voice is muffled by your hair, the crease of your neck, his breath from where it’s been caught in his throat.

You furrow your brows against his shoulder, your hand coming up to rub loose circles against the base of his spine. ‘Oh, I didn’t know, I wanted to make something to surprise you.’ The other hand gestures towards the array of spoons and bowls littering the countertop.

Ran asks him later that day, whether he likes you as more than a friend and Rindou only shrinks into his seat, scowling and pouting as he turns the question over in his head, a muted ‘Yes’ sitting on the flat of his tongue. Ran knows obviously, it’s as clear as night and day what his brother feels, the way his eyes follow you as you move, the faint smattering of pink half hidden beneath the shadow of his hair, the smile he thinks is reserved enough not to be noticed. 

‘He likes you Y/N.’ Ran says as throws his keys onto the coffee table, flicking on the lights as he fishes around in his sparse fridge for leftovers, tutting under his breath at the bareness of its shelves.It’s a regular pastime this is. You call Ran to talk about Rindou, to gush like a schoolgirl kicking her legs in the air, and Ran listens, as he always does, to the floaty voice on the other end, interspersed by sniffles.

‘He does not.’ You curl around your pillow, missing the warmth of him, your phone pressed between your ear and the pillow under your head. ‘He’s just being nice.’

A sniffle drips down the line as you press the duvet corner to your eyes. 

‘Trust me he does, Rindou doesn’t do “just being nice”.’ There is a beep as the microwave is switched on, thinly veiled behind the slosh of liquid and the shuffle of fabric as Ran pulls his jacket off. ‘All he ever talks about is you. I should be mad you’re taking so much of my baby brother’s attention from me.’ This last part said with mirth and the trace of a fond smile.

It’s a pleasant daydream to turn this way and that in your mind as you  drift to sleep, even if you don’t quite believe it. 

In your dreams, those private chambers locked and bolted, things are perfect. You find that belonging to him is easier than you thought it would be. He is soft underneath those harsh edges, you can trace your thumb over the outline of him.  Honest and quiet and safe and you could spend hours lost in that infinitesimal space between day and night, that thin splice of half-reality where everything is as you want it to be. 

Little do you know of course, that on the other side of the city, beneath a moon that’s milky white, proud and big in the sky, Rindou turns over a dream of his own. One in which he slots his lips against yours, swallows the breath that’s hitched in your throat as his hands come up to rest against your hips. Perhaps, if his dream self is feeling brave, he’ll pull you against him and you’ll feel the force of his want through his slacks and his lips will dip to sink against the curve of your shoulder. He thinks your eyes are beautiful as it is but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch them flutter shut as you came undone beneath him.

Maybe the day he realizes he has fallen for you, irrevocably, hopelessly even, is the day he watches Sanzu tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he bends to titter against it, a lame joke that trails off into a chuckle, one arm supporting his weight against the wall and the other languidly tracing a curve along your cheek. 

‘You’re such a pretty thing aren’t you? Lovely thing like you could get eaten right up in a place like this.’ His lips are tantalisingly close, and he smells vaguely of woodsmoke, gunpowder and metal. 

You smile placatingly, shivering slightly under Haruchiyo’s intense gaze, and Rindou turns, the familiar lick of embarrassment, shame, green and turbulent jealousy running down his back. 

Ran raises an eyebrow at the way Rindou bunches his hands into taut fists. ‘You need to tell her,’ he says. ‘If you don’t, someone else will.’ A subtle incline of his head in Haruchiyo’s direction. It’s his job, he knows, to tell Rindou the things he perhaps doesn’t want to hear but needs to nonetheless. 

Maybe that’s what spurs him on in retrospect. The thought that one day he might be too late, that one day he’ll wake up to see you looking at someone the way you look at him and he might lose you indefinitely.

So here he sits again, his head resting against the edge of the sofa, his hands curling into fists around your hoodie as you kneel between his thighs to press a clean gauze to the slice in his abdomen, hissing through his teeth, lips clamped together to staunch the sharp tang of pain lancing through his body. This is it, he thinks, as he watches your brows knit together, your cheeks puff with concentration, the barely perceptible shake of your head as you click your tongue.

‘Y/N…’ And it’s so quiet, a feather-touch against skin, the brush of hair tickling an ear. 

‘Hm?’ You inspect the wound, turn your head this way and that, oblivious even now to Rindou’s heated stare, his lidded gaze dropping along your cheek, your neck, the collarbones you tease through the neckline of your hoodie.

‘Look at me.’ His voice curls along your skin, flames licking at the nape of your neck as your eyes flit to meet his.

There’s a beat.

Two. 

Three.

And then he is kissing you, fervently, feverishly, his lips warm, salty with the tang of blood from the gash along the bottom, and his tongue is gentle and tentative in your mouth, his hands cupping your face as he pulls you onto his lap. It’s fast, clumsy even, awkward, all teeth and heat and need and promise. You break for air for the smallest fraction of a second, the thin string of saliva breaking as it falls down your chin, before his lips slot against yours, perfectly, synchronically, his nose brushing yours as his hands drop to your hips to glide you against his thigh. 

‘Rin,’ you say against his mouth, his throat pulsing in time with your heaving breaths and he pulls you against him so he can swallow the sigh that drips past parted lips when you feel his slacks tighten underneath you.

‘Y/N.’ He says your name like a prayer, like he worships you. Reverently, timid, testing it out in his mouth, his tongue relishing the taste of it. 'Princess.' And it feels right, it feels good.

He realizes as he kisses you, tastes you, that this is perhaps the moment he falls for you. Hopelessly, irrevocably even. You taste of warmth and tenderness, and nights spent near the heat, springtime. And he tastes of promise and hunger and thirst and you think if you hadn’t kissed him now, you’d have gone sick with the want. It’s dizzying, the pulsing in your veins that has your blood roaring in your ears, the shift of his lilac eyes as he slides the hoodie from you, dropping it in a pool of fabric, and your hands shake as you fumble to undo the belt buckle on his slacks, to drag the shirt from his shoulders and run your tongue along his chest. He groans, his lips sucking a firm and harsh mark between the curve of your neck and your shoulder and you wonder if you have ever heard a sweeter sound, you guarantee that you have not.

Because you are in love. Hopelessly, irrevocably even.

a/n: heyyy! I'm back with a full length fic! This was one of my favourites to write,it felt so self indulgent lol. It's actually a present for my Rin (happy one year loml) but I hope you all like it anyway. I'd love your feedback as usual. I have in fact opened a ko-fi which is here, and I'd appreciate any donation or anything if you liked this <3 but still, thanks for supporting me all this time too.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @oikawascutie @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @mochimiyaas (let me know if you'd like to be added)

[bleachification]

in reverence - dazai

+ dazai x reader (fantasy au)

+ chapter THREE of all that glitters is not gold (prologue please read this first!!) is here :*

ch. one: dissonance; ch. two: trojan horse (also read these before)

next chapter (4): a painting’s ire

+ author’s note: i used past tense for funsies and idk if i hate it or not so pls lemme know which u guys prefer (ok now onto the fic)

Dazai did not speak to or communicate with you for the rest of the journey. You’d think that would have been cause for relief or gratitude, but instead you found yourself feeling… nothing. Empty. Like the past few days had been nothing but a hazy dream. One that you feared you may never wake from. 

The trip was a five-day affair, a period of uneventful seafaring and mild weather. The dolphins you had seen one early morning were the highlight of your passing time. It was a pod of lively creatures that spun through the air and sped alongside the ship, each racing to be at the forefront of the group. Competitive things, they were. The freedom they enjoyed caused an ache in your chest to worsen—a feeling that you’d been in accompaniment with since childhood. 

The evening you arrived at the Empire’s capital, Yokohama City, a blaring horn sounded and the ship burst to life. Servants and workmen of all departments and status flew around the vessel in a bustling frenzy. You were ushered off the ship by an assortment of guards and handmaids, a group that tallied a total of eight people, excluding yourself. 

As you disembarked, you saw cartfuls of luggage being siphoned out the lower decks and onto the docks. The very docks that were swarmed with Imperial guards, officials, and servants. Each bore a golden insignia carved in the shape of a wolf’s head on their clothing—the seal of the royal family. It was the very symbol of Dazai’s lineage and power. 

You shifted your eyes away, only to immediately squint at the harsh sunlight. With a hand blocking the dizzying rays, you stepped forward, ready to push your way through the crowd. You were heir to their nation’s most formidable foe—respect was not a luxury you had much expectation of. 

But the moment you walked forward, a hush fell over the crowd, and a most startling thing occurred. Dazai’s people parted like the sea, carving out a path to the shining carriage that awaited you at the end of the road. 

You took another step and was surprised once again. Every single person there knelt before you, heads bowed in reverence. In respect. 

“This…” you faltered, unsure of yourself for the first time that week—since you first boarded the ship. “It is unnecessary.”

Dazai appeared from seemingly nowhere and stood beside you. “On the contrary. They are merely acting in accordance with what status dictates.” 

He leveled his gaze on you. “They treat you as they should—as a ruling half of the Kingdom. The better half.” 

Like a lion to a buzzing fly, you ignored him. Dazai frowned at your cold indifference, but decided to bite his tongue.

“Sire…” A soldier walked up to the King and began whispering in his ear, a bit frantic in his movements. Dazai’s brows knitted together, and you found yourself sorely curious about what sort of catastrophe could have made the normally nonchalant Dazai so anxious. 

A few more murmurs from the both of them and the knight was sent running off.

“Anything I should be concerned about?” You asked, your inquisitive nature got the better of you.

Dazai cleared his throat and averted his gaze as if he was wracking his brain for an answer. He finally settled on one. 

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about.” His tone was light; his smile big and cheerful. But you’d known this boy since the beginning of your lives. You could detect the tension in his jaw and the slight strain in his tone. Did he really think he could hide those things from you?

He hid many things, you reminded yourself. 

“A poor excuse. If you will not allow me to be informed, then just say so. There was no need to lie.” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spoke your next words, “After all, have you not done that enough?”

Dazai’s smile fell and his expression turned momentarily cold. He leaned down, so that you were nose-to-nose. You refused to flinch—refused to let him get the better of you. 

“I have done many things, Y/N. Some good, some questionable, and some bad. What I have never done is lie to you. Never,” he snarled. 

You would be taken aback at his quiet ferocity if it weren’t for the fact that Dazai had stopped being someone to fear a long time ago. Instead, you shrugged. 

“You could have fooled me.”

Without waiting for an answer, you turned and made your way down the path towards the carriage. Dazai followed behind in silence. He tried to open the door for you, but you got to it first, yanking it back with so much force the hinges seemed to protest out loud.

Dazai stumbled back just in time, narrowly missing a door to the face. “I understand your anger, but must you attempt to assassinate me on our first day back in my homeland? I am still King.”

“I am well aware of what you are. I just don’t care,” you state. 

With a roll of your shoulders, you stepped inside and took a seat on one end of the lavish vehicle. Velvet, gold trimming, and taffeta pillows made up the interior. The exterior was a whole other story—led by four white-coated stallions, the carriage was the same shining colour and gilded with gold leaves. Extravagant and dramatic—much like its owner. 

Dazai sat across from you and sighed. “You wound me.”

The carriage started to move. It was much smoother than you expected. The city lights blurred as the horses gathered speed, racing against the waning daylight. Nightfall would soon come, the setting sun in the distance was a clear indication. 

“It likely won’t be the only time,” you said. There was no remorse or sympathy to be found—you were void of them. 

“Y/N–” he started.

“Stop,” you interrupted him. Dazai’s mouth hung open mid-sentence as you continued. “I can barely tolerate your presence now. Do not make it worse by trying to converse once more. I have nothing to say to you and want to hear nothing of what you have to say to me.”

He shifted in his seat and leaned towards you, searching the planes of your face for any sense of familiarity. There was none. There were many things different about you, but many more just the same. The flickers of the old you that he saw in the stranger before him were about as fragile as glass, and much sharper. Much more… painful. 

“We are married. You can’t possibly avoid me for the rest of our lives.”

You stared at him, unwavering. “I won’t have to.”

A slight furrow of the brow was the only indication of his confusion. “What does… Never mind that. We must speak, no matter how uncomfortable it is.”

You scoffed. “Uncomfortable? I am sitting across from the man that murdered my mother. The man that I am now wed to against my will!” 

Dazai’s gaze fell to the floor at the anger rising in your voice. You didn’t stop.

“We are far past the realm of uncomfortable. You are lucky I do not slit your throat from where I sit. As far as I am concerned, that is more merciful than what you deserve,” you hissed. 

He swallowed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “That night—Y/N you must understand, I–”

Again, your irritation surfaced and you cut him off. “Understand what, Your Majesty? Will it change anything? Will it change the fact that you plunged a sword through my mother and left her bleeding on the palace grounds like a stuck pig?”

His expression shuttered, a mask swirling with shame, frustration, and restraint fell into its place. “No. It will not,” he admitted.

Your lungs stuttered at his blatant confession. You knew it to be true—saw it with your own eyes—but having Dazai confirm your fears and the abominable truth they hid behind… it was like a clamp had tethered itself to your heart and refused to let go. 

You forced any and all emotion from your expression and coolly regarded him. 

“Then whatever you wanted to say is unnecessary and irrelevant.” 

He tried to reply and voice his jumbled mess of emotions and thoughts, but the carriage had grinded to a stop and one of his own knights had opened the door for the both of you to exit from.

You had arrived at the Royal Castle; Dazai’s estate and your future home. 

You were greeted with a symphony of trumpets signalling your arrival, in pure noble fashion. A giant structure laden from stone and glass loomed over you. The palace stood in all its glory—six stories of spotless marble and glittering gold accents. It shone even in the shadow of night. 

Like always, knights lined up next to you and marched along as you entered the palace.

The foyer opens up into the second floor. Cascading steps as pristine as the rest of the palace sprouted from the center and widened into the arms of the second floor. Chandeliers hung from the painted ceilings that displayed artworks worthy of being in the holiest of cathedrals. Struck by the grandeur of it all, you almost forgot that it was the den of wolves. And you had just walked into it, with no one and nothing by your side except your wits.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dazai asked, slightly breathless. If you had just turned towards him, perhaps you would understand why he seemed so awestruck at the sight of his own home. If you had just turned towards him… you would have noticed his eyes on you instead. 

“Truly fit for a King,” you muttered, gaze wandering across the statues and sculptures positioned around the room. 

Dazai smiled softly. A wave of pride washed over him as he said: “It is all yours, from now until forevermore.”

You shattered that pride within an instant. “It is not. It will never be.”

“Y/N–” He began. 

“I don’t want it. I want nothing of yours except perhaps…” You trailed off. 

Except perhaps your head on a silver platter, you thought. 

Dazai perked up. “Except what? Whatever it is, I will grant it if it is within my power. Actually, no, never mind that—tell me what it is, I will find a way to—”

Tired of his relentless energy and endless words, you briskly walked away from him toward an older looking man who stood in front of two other knights. He had long silver hair, the length was much like that of Chief Minister Kunikida. But that was where the similarities ended. Unlike the Chief Minister, the man before you was dressed in fitted armor and a cape, a heavy longsword resting by his side. He had a large build, and although his facial features were rugged and weathered, he still carried himself with an air of elegance. Like he had lived a thousand lives as a warrior and another thousand as a noble. 

“Good evening. What is your name?” You asked. 

The silver-haired man lifted an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and amusement coloring his expression. “Greetings to Your Royal Highness, I am Yukichi Fukuzawa, General of the Red Army.”

You cocked your head, faintly aware of Dazai in the background sulking. “The Red Army?”

“They are the throne’s guards. As well as the Kingdom’s first and last line of defense. The largest and strongest unit in my military,” Dazai interrupted, still sulking.

Again, you ignored him. “You are an impressive man, General Fukuzawa.”

The General’s lips quirked up into a slight smile, mirth glittering behind his eyes as he glanced over at his King. ‘You flatter me, Your Royal Highness, but I am merely a soldier doing his duty.”

“Such a shame, a handsome man like yourself off in the frontlines,” you sighed. 

“Handsome?!” Dazai squeaked from somewhere behind you. 

At that proclamation, the General let out a deep, rumbling laugh. It warmed you to the bones. “I am but an old man. You flatter me again.”

You smiled and held your hand out. He shook it, still shaking his head as his smile grew wider. 

“I think we are going to be fine friends, General.”

“I agree, Your Royal Highness,” he affirmed. 

Dazai cleared his throat violently—like a sickly cat hacking up a hairball. “Fukuzawa, why are you here?”

The General snapped his attention over to his lord, features turning serious again. “Sir. Aside from welcoming your darling spouse—”

You beamed. Dazai brooded. 

“I needed to speak with you regarding the Membrance campaign… Updates are scarce… No word back from the… Time is running out…”

You huffed. Great. More whispering and secrets that you were not privy to. 

You excused yourself as the two men whispered furiously to each other, both seemingly too lost in the urgency of the topic to care for your absence. Whatever it was must have been important, and you had to find out what it was about. 

A helpful maid guided you to your room—another luxurious suite that was situated on the palace’s top floor. From that distance, you could see the stretch of the country—all the way to the forest before the border. 

Finally alone, you pulled out your materials. A portfolio, an empty journal, twin daggers, and three vials of pure belladonna poison. 

The portfolio, thick with papers and files, was shoved into a locked drawer. You tied the key around your upper arm with a string, the item now hidden beneath the sleeves of your clothes. The daggers were strapped to your thigh with a specially-made holster, and the empty journal was laid upon your desk. The poison, glass pots of clear liquid, were arranged in a line in the back end of your bathroom medicine cabinet, hidden in plain sight. It was the one place no one but a doctor would look, and even then, you could just pass it off as misplaced cosmetics. They were unassuming and plain, and yet a small drop could fell a horse. 

You had barely shut the cabinet door before a knock sounded out. 

“Yes?”

“Your Highness, I am here to help you prepare for dinner,” a girl’s voice rang out. 

You allowed her in, although begrudgingly. The last thing you wanted was to have dinner with the King. 

The young girl flitted around your room, running around with a mountain of clothing selections in hand, not to mention the shoes and accessories.

“Surely such fineries are not required for mere dinner?”

She blinked. “Um… Your Highness, are you unaware of tonight’s event?”

Your left eye twitched. “Event?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What event?” You dreaded the answer.

Again, the girl blinked. “Why, your welcoming banquet, of course.”

Forget the poison, you were going to strangle your groom the moment you set eyes on him tonight. 

The maid continued her busybodying—powdering, fitting, draping, bathing… the works.

As she sat you in front of the mirror, ready to finish your makeup and help you into the final attire choices, she asked: “Does Your Highness have any preference on visuals tonight?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror. A vacant shell stared back. 

“Make me devastating.”

hiiiii tags: @letsliveagaintoday​ @zjarrmiii

[ruthflemwad]

parts of the npmd soundtrack that scratch my brain perfectly (act 2)

again its all under the cut. i hope this is comprehensible its longer than the last one. idk what else to say

HATCHET TOWN

dan's whole bit at the start. just the way he says everything. so good

the ahh ahh ahhs

the electric guitar <3

curt's voice for bailey esp the growl

A LOSIN STREAKS COMIN!

the smoooothness of corey's voice and the way he sings things auuauauuau

IF HE GETS ME NEXT I COULD BE THREE!

the harmonies on man down down down down

the little plinky organ melody in the backround that comes in halfway through the chorus UAUUAUAUA

the way jon says donna

donna's "DAN!!!"

i certainly dont LOVE killing!

the harmonies on "bailey's/barry's on the loose and he's got a gun" (im talking mainly abt the soundtrack and not the proshot so bailey is more applicable here but both r so good)

I'M A COP!

fits the bill! it fits the bill!

THE HARMONIES ON THE SECOND MAN DOWN DOWN DOWN DOWN UAUUAUAUAU

the who's swingin the hatchet now harmonies

HATCHET TOOOOOWN

I AM THE MAYOR!!!!

HOW DARE YOU!!!

bryce's solo <3 all of it is so good

BOY JERRY <3 and gerald monroe ig but i love jerry

LET'S KILL 'IM!

CAN I SHIT OR WILL I DROWN

kim's little opera bit

the final in hatchet town harmony <3

JUST FOR ONCE

this whole song in general btw. i love ruth fleming so so so so so so so so so much this song was such a silly contemperary theatre tribute

NO, i haven't seen your grill brush, MAURY. huh YEAH! i used it to BRUSH MY HAIR this morning CANT YOU TELL. ugh

DONT LEAVE ME OUT HERE WITH THE MEAT, MAURY! medium WHA? how can something be medium AND WELL, MAURY?

ugh. maury.

*sigh* i turned 40 today.

the piano coming in

the synthy strum

the way lauren sings the word saturday. her voice throughout this whole song just scratches the brain itch so well

the way she says window, right, dream, and had

they never win

and LIIIIIFE is FULLL of all of the Trappings of The Well to Dew

god i love ruth. i love this song i love this song.

the slight tonal shift (thats not the right word ugh) for the choruses.

39 I LOSE MY HAIR UNDER CAREFUL CHEMO TREATMENT

the way lauren says ensnared

JUDGE ME.

IT FUCKING WORKED I'M FUCKING HERE HE'S FUCKING HER IM DISAPPOINTED

and of the two who's the worse for wear (ME.)

the tambourine

idk what that instrument is in the bg of second chorus it sounds like a saxaphone but also synthy???? idk but i love it

SHOULD I FLIP THE BURGERS NOWWW!

the clarity of lauren's first oh UAUAUA

SHOULD I LET THE YEARS COOOK MY BODY DOWN IN FRONT OF HIM

all 3 just for onces esp the last one with the riff

THE WAY THAT BEHIND THE JUST FOR ONCES YOU CAN HEAR THE "if i can finally be cool i will know that i'm not a loser" MOTIF AUUAUAISUAUUAISIAU

the way the tone calms back down but its still like so vulnerable... uuuuuauu

the way she says every word in this last verse

i used to dance :(

IF I LOVED YOU

THE SYNTH

I NEVER WANTED YEW ANYWAY!

joey's general tone in this UAUAU so good

mariah's deeper voice HEART EYES AUUUU

i just love lautski this song is so good i can barely pick things out bc this whole song scratches my brain

joey's lil growl on "oh babe i'd let u know"

OOOO! i guess we'd better save the date!

need a lover MAYUN

i love when jeff blim crams a lot of syllables into an amount of time like that its so fun

the harmonies <3

wake me up when u turn 18!!!

if i IF I!!!!!

the repeating round style of singing in order to come together eventually I lov them

dissonance <3

THE SUMMONING

the way the lords names are sung i love it sm

the lords names being whispered in the background

tNOY karaxis

WIGGOG WIGGOG Y'WRATH

the woah ohs and the drums kicking in

the music cutting out

HELLO FWENDY WENDS

the we will build a portal motif

the laughter

just the whole little lord verses its so discordant and fun and i love it so much i love the voices they put on i love the lyrics

LA LA LA LA LA ALALALALALA

the book has all but closed on ur life!

THE LORDS IN BLACK ARE THE LORDS IN BLACK ARE

blinky's we've been watching u gracie

the way curt says spankoffski and toy box

GOOOO NIGHTHAWKS!

tinky's laugh

jon's wiggly voice

WHY HELP U WITH THE JAGERMAN WHEN WE CAN HELP THE WORLD

the drums

swallow his soul i wanna lick it!

i wanna see thaaaat

WHATEVER WE WANT WE WANT WE WANT WHATEVER WE WANT WE GET

AAAAUHGUGH there IS something!

something FUN!!!

the lords in black the lords in black call us...

what do u want steph...

do it... or DIE

WE DONT GIVE A SHIT ABT UR PHONE!

AHHHHHHUHGHHH THERE HE IS

what's in your pocket STEPH-A-KNEE

STEPHANIE HAS GOT A GUN TRALALALA HOW FUN! STEPHANIE HAS GOT A GUN SHE KNOWS WHAT MUST BE DONE

i love this whole song its so silly and crazy

YUM YUM!

or FUCK OFF

that last "the lords in black the lords in black call us"

COOL AS I THINK I AM REPRISE

this one makes me really sad :( still so good

one of us is in love :(((((((((

it doesnt TAKE a detective

the violins coming in again

is it really a crime if you get to live your life to the fullest :((((

YOU GET TO LIVE ON :(((((

the i love u i know :(((((((

ur not as cool as u think u are! :(

THE HARMONIES :(

IF I CAN FINALLY BE COOL :((((

i will know that you have to do it :(((

joey's lower register for this last little if i loved u chorus :(((

loved u more than the stars above :(((((( (how many sad faces can i use)

the pause before could've :((((

i cant even say anything more abt this one it makes me too sad

ok yes i can the i never wanted you anyway breaks my heart

BEST OF YOU

the guitar

the needy beast esque pronounciation of words idk how else to say it i just love it

LIKE EYE DEW

we hurted!

the harmonies on town and down

IM THE BEST OF YEW!

this song is just so fun

it's like you knew me b4 u knew me! that whole bit! i love it!

THE AHS IN THE BACK OF THE SECOND BIT OF THE SECOND VERSE

ABSCONDED BELOVED

FOREVER!

WE'RE GONNA RUN AROUND 2NITE!

I BELIEVE IN YEWWWW

never gonna fall!

the echoey verse in the back at the end Auuu so good

the ending note harmony

DIRTY DUDES MUST DIE

the souls of the pervs make me strong

her laugh

I LOVE ANGELA'S VOICE

everything she sings here sounds so incredible

ARE U HARD BC UR STRESSED

what????

i just love this reprise its so so good

i cant point out specific parts bc its just all incredible

OF THE NERDS U MINIMIIIIIIIZED!!!! her RIFF!

THE LAUGH

when the ensemble comes in heart eyes

WHO WILL PRAY 4 U WHEN UR BODY'S GONE THIS IS THE CONSEQUENCE FOR WHAT YOUVE DOOOOONE

DARKNESS WILL SPARE MY SOUL

run pervs RUN

[yutasbimil]

Polar

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (2/~) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: angst, pre-smut, fluff, comfort cw: mental anguish, interrupted; cut-short sex, panic attacks, love at first sight, slight prejudice, psychology major student x professor? hmmm . . . eventual smut (i promise!), eventual romance + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 2.7k

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part x

do not repost © yutasbimil (2022)

cont.

Opposite they are to each other.

But being brought too close to each other’s proximity, it’s harder to pull further apart to get away from each of their magnetic fields.

In the same way that alcohol can bring out one’s vulnerabilities… But we can never be sure if spilling these thoughts can drive us closer to the warmth or coldness of those who would hear it.

At first glance there’s always something so entrancing about Vyn the more that Yule watches him. Standing across the room with him it’s clear how he exudes such prestige aura, it’s alluring how upright he stands yet so much feebleness despite his charismatic façade. It all seems like a mask.

Yule spins and twirls her wrist along the glass of wine. Just remembering how Vyn taught her the etiquette of drinking made Yule blush under her skin. Mostly, yes, it’s because of the effects of alcohol kicking in. It at least helped lessen the coldness she feels. Though she felt  cold  in other aspects, the bitterness outweighs the supposed sweetness of the laughter around her. Expecting the booze to boost off her self-consciousness, it didn’t help a tad bit as she felt her head spin more and the almost empty glass in her hand. 

The clear dissonance between her and the white noise crowd signals an ending of the event, or at least to her and her social battery.

She might’ve gone too far to even climb up to attend such a fancy event.

As if on cue, the escort accompanying her takes the glass from her the same as it didn’t even register in her brain that he’s already footsteps close to her.

His breath near her paints a blush on her ears.

Now the redness is because of something else.

“I would suggest you sober up before we head home, m’lady.” The light hoarse in Vyn’s tone signals the lateness of the night. “I do not see clear skies for tonight, I ought to take you home soon so we won’t get caught by the winds.”

“The night seems young though.” And at that slight refuseness in her thoughts, it surprised Yule how it’s been a long while since she doesn’t want to go home yet. Also connecting it to the skin on hers as Vyn is touching her arm for support.

“Sorry to cut the night short, Yule… But I do insist more on your safety.”

The softness of his voice delayed her receptivity more on how she had said her thoughts out loud. The alcohol did the magic for her, and she was on the ride with it.

She knows this is all much of an act, especially for today, but it lingered till days past and it felt like a dream…

Though she had also noticed the distance he draws whenever she steps closer to him, as if she was brought further away the more interactions they are presented with.

This is a peculiar feeling to every meeting.

“What's it like in your hometown?”

The crescent of the moon illuminates along the cold snow that fell on the lady’s nose, she almost shivered at the gaze the taller male gave her. Similar to the white of his hair, his answer seemed frigid.

“I haven’t been there for a long while,” Vyn says.

Silence enveloped them, she almost gasped for warmth as the cold winter air brushed stiffly against them. By instinct she stepped close to him for body heat, he almost filched at the almost contact.

“Oh sorry, do I make you uncomfy?” Yule asks, between the lines, her concern of ‘haven’t we had a close relations contact recently for you to act too surprised this way?’  specifically, to pertain to her choice of words at this moment.

Vyn also took this into account and was as direct as her.

“No, no… It’s just that you are cold,” he states, relating to –at most– the weather. But she quickly caught on to the subtleties.

“Likewise.”

“Hmmm?” Vyn turned to her, eyes caught in the rose hues straight across her face. Her demeanor appeared to be in her favor as it aligned easily with her behavior and sound reasoning.

What acts coy in tone, she says. “This is just because of the cold...” As if covering both her ears isn’t enough, she repeats as she recollected herself.

”It is cold tonight, Dr. Richter.”

She's the type to get cold easily, given that he also has cold hands instead of warmth is… not quite what she expected as to why she filched. She thought at that one time but felt the same thing at this instance… she’s met with rather quivering arms.

She looked at him frozen.

“I am also the type to have cold hands, my body temperature is lower than normal,” Vyn states as if reading a glimpse of her mind.

Despite his cold demeanor, warmth is felt between them. Or at least at her end.

The barrier between them seemed to bubble away as Vyn slightly leaned on her proximity. But which made her intrigued all the more by the sudden shift.

Partially, Vyn noticed he is to blame but even he cannot understand his complexities, what more on observing others behavior… And it is supposedly his profession; Yule cannot reckon this field he planted in.

The shifts didn’t change at the sudden gust of wind as they went just by the front porch of Vyn’s home. Her way home is by his route and talks about such luck she has.

They get caught in the snowstorm.

She’s meaning to just pass by his house for some reference books as she needs them for the following weeks. But by the looks of the hail outside, it cannot be.

As polar they astutely discern each other's personalities, their bodies seem to have found a way to gravitate toward each other.

The warmth of his breath by Yule’s ear had the same effect of a blizzard wind sending down one’s spine.

She didn’t fully know how or why they got into this exact situation, bare skin-to-skin; less than hair strands apart, but it felt right to the bone.

But her head says otherwise, despite Yule’s body yearning for any means to get warmth by body heat. Her body seems automatic as it elicits tones of pleasure. Specifically, asking for Vyn’s skin near her, his lips exploring the surface of her naked skin by her collarbone, more so with how he pulls her close to his chest. 

Both their breathing grows more ragged and labored as if exchanging replies along their bodies. Yule moans as he ascends from her territories, Vyn’s vision looks darker towards her darkened crimson cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” Vyn breathed by her ear, momentarily fanning her intense desire. His fingers lingered above her scorching core, with full consent, she quickly led his fingers by her damp panties.

“Ahhh…  there, please.” She hissed at his cold fingers digging through the fabric.

With his impatient touch, it’s as if she can’t believe her body can get more blazed, more so as he sets aside her panties as Vyn fingers her. 

“Let me treat you well here as well, my lady.” he musters, and she could only gulp a breath of surprise as he went in to make her squirm good at his techniques. Vyn heavily grunts as she clenches more in his fingers, a smile of triumph appears on his face as she slips profanities. 

“Fu-fuck…  shit- sorry—” Yule covered her foul mouth, quickly turning weak as he curled his digits in her. She almost yelps. “Don’t be…  so, g-good.”

Yule could only give in to the pleasure. Her muscles fight over clenching or relaxing over the sensation. Her wetness squelches the deeper Vyn’s fingers buried in and out of her vagina, gaining more grunts and moans from both their lips.

As if a request for more silence, Vyn’s lips crash into hers, turning more aggressive and passionate, opposite to his light touches. Yule’s nails say otherwise, it remains gripped and clenched by his hair. He took it as a validation he was doing so damn well, moving along his lips on her drenched lips down between her legs.

Yule contained all her control not to wrap her legs into his head. But every time he looks up at her, eye-to-eye directly into hers, his lips are devilishly distracting.

She pulled his hair out of frustration.

In between the twists in her stomach overwhelmed with pleasure, there are also evident signs of the looming feeling in her guilt. Particularly feeling good about having sex.

Oh no, shit.

There go her thoughts consumed with her bad view of sex. 

She felt disgusted with herself. 

The shame takes over her, suddenly feeling insecure and inadequate. Her exposed body felt embarrassing, this is wrong. Yule thinks she’s doing something horribly wrong. Even so, she can’t pinpoint what is at fault really…  But still!   Maybe I am just using him, taking advantage of him with my body.

Before anything else, she is a virgin, and this is so wrong taking this ounce of opportunity to taint that. But I also want it?

She zones out, feeling out of it as much as his touch is nowhere out of her personal space.

Still, the feeling floods over her like liquid lead. Her consciousness and lucidity are leaking out of her bit by bit.

Crap.

“Yule? Are you okay?”  Vyn sounded muffled to her.

The heavy breathing turned more appalling on her end as she felt a familiar enclosed tightness around her chest. It’s anything but pleasurable.

They are cut short of the pre-intercourse the same as her breath.

“Doc… Richter, stop, let’s…” her breathing is a clear sign for Vyn to halt any of their acts progressing. He’s quick to break free and observe.

A blatant sign of a panic attack.

“ Breathe in…  catch your breath, properly now.” Vyn’s voice is slow and coherent.

One would be quick not to question the source, even ask about the trigger. But even Yule is ashamed of her helpless, vulnerable state at the moment.

She can’t even look Vyn in the eye.

With his intensity and slight hesitancy to hold and comfort her, Yule predicts she would melt at his touch.

It was worry,  and somehow it had more effect on her than the darkened orbs of lust he showed earlier.

She felt a pang in her chest.

Also, her intrusive thoughts and aching core left unsatiated. Her selfishness also crept in, though this is the most inappropriate time to have such indecent thoughts despite  being in the obscene act itself.

But it’s more shameful and  such a waste  they didn’t even reach that point.

Instead, something like this happened, with him tending to her and being a burden–

Why did she let such a chance slip away?

It kept overplaying in her head, although it wasn’t a full-blown panic attack– it was still leading up to that point. But that made her scrunch up into a ball more, closing her walls completely after closing the gap between them.

Yule tries to tap back into her system, even after all that… his touch still lingers in her skin as if she’s still in that present moment. His weight on hers still feels tangible. But the actual weight of the situation and consequence of delving into intimacy further, there and now—

It scared the crap out of her.

Everything makes it more guilty, turning her soft and yet,  wet  in her core. She wouldn’t admit that, not openly.  Fuck…

This is supposed to be like a crush in high school… But his effect on her ought to make a lady out of her.

Why did it have to be the perfect timing they were supposed to do  it?

It was awkward after he was about to insert his erection into her drenched core. Although, looking back it’s drenching her more with sweat and distress. 

How is it he’s still accommodating to ease her throughout the night, when she's the one who needs to make up for what she did? Or more on, there lack of?

-

A bit after the incident, Yule apologizes to Vyn for acting in such an embarrassing way during their last meeting.

The flush on her face still aches on how  cringe  or revolting it was replaying in her head. She can’t assess the situation objectively as she can’t even look at him directly.

He’s just quiet across her, opposite to her difficulty to contain her frantic body language.

Vyn sips into his cup, his face is solemn. “It is fine, I am fit to assess such situations.”

But she's still ashamed as fuck of what happened! 

She could only muster up an  “okay”  even if she was far from being fine, lowering her head. 

Yule wanted to go, especially on the way she acted, messy and disoriented. The pensive look of the white-haired male in front of her made her more disarray with her thoughts.

Being back in his household feels sacrilegious after such events.

Do I even have a right to be in his presence?

The calm demeanor he portrays across her seat answers her unease, more so the softness of his urgency. “No use beating yourself up, come on, the tea is getting cold. The sweetness of the cake may help ease you up.”

Why is he still doing such nice things,  still?

“I would like to apologize as well, I may have gone too fast at your pace,” Vyn says, now there is an evident flush across his pale skin, much opaque but enough to see a difference in his expression. He sighs a deep intake of breath but stops it for sounding heavy. Along with his ever-growing… emotions.

He was driven by irrationality as if he's lost some sense of control that night. 

It was evident, even until now, they are both feeling the tension, but on her end, the shame and anxiety, and embarrassment eat her up more.

With Vyn, it’s unclear, but it’s faintly implied that there’s tension. He’s still out to tackle and satiate both of them, and pick up where they both left off.

Only then when she’s fine and ready.

“I-I want to as well but I don't know what's up with my body.” Yule is pertaining more to the sudden ‘attack’. And this rotten brain of hers.  She also got it checked on her previous therapy sessions, but it immensely bothers her still… She worries over her lips. “I also got a bit ahead with my alcohol that night, but even without the alcohol, I can affirm that I do like you still.”

Her bravery took him back.

Vyn’s lips curled upwards, finding her eyes to magnetize it back into his, then says. “Can we admit that we are attracted to each other to that certain extent?”

Too soon.

But…

Yule worries her lower lips more.  I have been feeling the tension lingering for some quite time now.

At least she's getting better at noticing the signals.

But she's still embarrassed.

“I can say it's reciprocal,” she affirms. The sudden gust of the wind blows the smell of the flowers spread out in his garden, the smell of the pastry and tea reigns back their flavor, blending into their space.

“So what now?”  She’s surprised herself for the lack of stutter saying that. Confusion mulled over her, panicked at his warmth remaining at arm's length.

“That is also up to you where you would want this to go, Miss Yule. I am interested in you.” His honesty made her retract.

Yule is overwhelmed as a myriad of thoughts domino over her. She’s growing more and more panicked as the man in front of her is still willing to face her after such inconveniences.  Most throw me out.

He even made time to meet up and spare his time to invite her over for tea after. 

So how is it that he’s willing to even bother to look at her?

“I don't want to lean in too much on you.” she croaked, the anxiety obvious on taking the weight on her sullen face.

Vyn’s face in contrast deflects her agitation. 

“Of course, I wouldn't want you to be overly dependent, but I would be by your side to accompany you, alright?”

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[comatosebunny09]

forget me not

genre: angst, modern au

warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, heartbreak, pining, crimelord!kyo, female!reader

music: adieu - emily bindiger / clair de lune - claude debussy

You had called him after the sun took refuge behind the mountains. 

When the sky was violet, and stars spilled across it like paint. 

Swaddled in the blue light of his cell and the gentle murmur of his engine, Kyojuro reached for the driver-side handle and threw the door open. The wind was fearsome, ruffling his hair and threatening to knock him off his feet. 

But the sound of your voice breaking through the staticky speaker kept him tethered to Earth.

He nearly dropped his phone when he slid into the leather seat, fumbling to connect you to the Bluetooth. Wild-eyed and swallowing thickly, his nerves solar flares beneath his skin.

“Hey,” you said. 

Light as silk, a simple greeting filled his spacious convertible and his head with vertigo. There was apprehension swimming beneath the soprano of your tone. A slight waver. A shaky sigh as if the world’s weight was on your shoulders. 

“Hey,” he parroted, masking the tremor of his own voice.

Sat up, spine painfully stiff. Never gripped the shifter tighter. The fine hairs littering his body stood at attention. He found himself straining every molecule inside to hear you again.

To feel you again.

It had been months, after all. Since he last heard from you. Saw you. He never thought he would again, having fled the city to let you reassemble the jagged shards of your heart.

Alone.

Said it was best because he was destroying you. Stripping you down to the marrow, bleeding you dry. A good girl like you didn’t deserve to be dragged down by a scoundrel like him. You deserved happiness. Freedom. Stability.

Kyojuro watched the dam keeping your emotions at bay splinter, tears pouring in rivulets down your cheeks. He could still hear your shrill cries for him to stay. You clung to his sleeve. Pounded tiny fists against his chest. He watched emotions fleet across your face like torn film reels, all passive and tight-lipped. He had to be. It was the only way to make this breakup clean. 

Sand filled his throat, and his heart sank into the empty chasm of his stomach as he left.

Forever.

Or so he thought.

He couldn’t understand; why he clung to every minute sound—every burst of static, every heave of breath. Strangled the leather of his steering wheel, and his foot hovered over the pedal. 

Say the word. Just say it. Just—

“I… didn’t know who else to call.” 

Your voice popped and fizzed like a bonfire, cutting through the dissonance of his mind. He could taste the brine of tears welling up beneath your lashes. Could sense you receding into yourself, rubbing your arms to ward off the cold. Pictured you with your back against a wall, fighting against the quake of your shoulders and biting your lips to keep from whimpering.

The thought made the warmth of fondness wade over him. He couldn’t help the quirk of his lips as he leaned back against the seat. You were always such a crybaby. His crybaby.

Somehow, the notion was comforting. Knowing that you needed him. That he was at the forefront of your mind after all this time. Sure, a part of him felt sick. Deplorable. Hollow. But he couldn’t ignore how his body tingled.

Assuredness drenched his timbre as he asked, 

“Where are you?”

The ping in his notifications was instantaneous. As was the airiness that inhabited your voice as you breathed a

“Thank you.”

Kyojuro nodded to no one, your pin drop flooding the dash screen, a melancholy smile rounding his lips. He peeled out of the parking lot without thinking, the roar of his motor mirroring the wild flutter of his heart.

[clickerflight]

Fallen: Part 10 - Phoenix

YOOOO have you read the Dragon's den stuff? It's in my Crestlen list if you're interested (please don't mind any awkwardness or plot holes. You know how old writing is) Anyways, Phoenix and Lynx :3

Masterlist - Part 9

Content - Villain whumpee, hallucinations, a bit of internal angst

......................................

Wake up, Kolt. He’s coming. He’s coming. Wake up. 

Kolt shot upright in bed, ignoring his sore muscles and aching his head as he slammed his hands over his ears. “Get out of my head!” he said urgently, pleadingly. “Get out!”

Watcher only laughed, the two tones echoing at a nail scratching dissonance before fading away. 

Kolt sat like that for a very long moment, rocking a little, listening to the rush of his own blood and pulse. He slowly relaxed and pulled his hands away from his ears to hear knocking at his door. His heart still raced, but he told himself he was fine. It was just a hallucination, and even though Watcher was unsettling, he wasn’t the worst of the three. 

“Kmm, come in,” Kolt said, clearing his dry throat.

The door opened and Dalley poked his head in, eyes tracing the covers that had been thrown to the floor, the big sweater on Kolt’s boney shoulders slipping down and the sheets tangled in his legs. “Are you alright? I thought I heard shouting.”

Kolt sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Sorry. It was… a dream. I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fine. He didn’t need anyone knowing about it yet, though. 

Dalley hummed, looking Kolt over one more time. “Would you like some food?”

Kolt didn’t really feel like eating. He had enjoyed the food he’d had for dinner, but there wasn’t as much fun in eating as there used to be. He could only see it all as nutrients. Something to keep him going, something he needed to eat to regain his body mass and to keep from feeling so weak all the time. So, he wasn’t really hungry, but he replied positively anyways. 

Dalley had breakfast ready on the table as Kolt came out of the bathroom. He still felt so shaky. Like he was liable to fall at any moment, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t really see well enough to avoid the warps and wrinkles in the beautiful old rugs and carpets Dalley had around the place. 

Kolt was halfway through the meal when he noticed something was wrong. 

“Dalley?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Mm?” Dalley asked, looking up. 

Kolt leaned forward to see his expression better. The doctor seemed worried, almost. Distracted, certainly. “Is something wrong? You didn’t get my test results back already, did you?”

“Oh, no, no nothing’s wrong, Kolt,” Dalley said quickly. “I’m just thinking is all.”

“I know you, Dalley. I know it has been a while, but if you haven’t moved out of your hole, then you have not changed all that much,” Kolt replied. “You’re only this quiet when you’re worried about something.”

Dalley looked at the door. Kolt only just barely caught the slight movement of his chin as he couldn’t really see which way Dalley was looking as the colors all blended together. 

“Someone’s coming.”

Dalley hissed a little, lifting his cup of tea to try and hide behind it a little bit. “How do you do that?”

“Dalley, who is coming?”

The doctor sighed softly. There was a long moment before he said, “I didn’t want to tell anyone you were here, but Phoenix must have known something.”

“Phoenix is coming? Here?”

“Yes. I couldn’t hide you being here from him.”

Kolt… wanted to hide. He was surprised at himself. He really truly wanted to hide. Not because he thought Phoenix would hurt him or laugh at him, but because he didn’t want the pity, the sympathy, that would come with the visit. He didn’t want platitudes, he didn’t want condolences or reassurance. He wanted to pretend like none of this happened and move on. He wanted to heal, to forget about the box and the jar and leave the hallucinations far in the past. 

He wasn’t going to have that luxury though. Not with the way it was written on his face. Not when the scars showed so plainly that something terrible had happened to him and there was nothing he could do to erase it. 

“Do you have any clothing I could borrow? Something more proper for a visit with him?” Kolt asked, pushing those thoughts aside. Maybe he would have time to brush his hair, maybe even get a proper trim. 

“That’s the smallest item of clothing I have,” Dalley said regretfully. “I might be able to find smaller sweatpants?”

Kolt looked down at the clothing he had been wearing, rumpled with sleep and drowning him in their folds. The pants held on only because they had drawstrings Kolt could pull tight and tie. 

“Maybe there is time to buy some clothing?” Kolt said, the words falling flat even as they came out. 

Dalley opened his mouth to answer, but they were both cut off as the door opened. 

Kolt stiffened, looking up at the shadowy figure. The man was too far away to see, but that didn’t matter. Kolt wouldn’t have been able to make out his features even if he had the vision of a hawk. Phoenix was said to be descended from a family of true shapeshifters, a power lost long ago, but Kolt wasn’t too certain if he believed it. Everything about Phoenix was purposefully misleading and confusing. Well, almost everything. His good mood was always true. 

Kolt was surprised to see more movement behind Phoenix as another figure followed him. The posture was something protective, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Phoenix didn’t need or want bodyguards. Who was this?

Still, Kolt stood up, facing his ally on semi stable feet. 

“Phoenix. It’s been a long time,” Kolt said, adding a deeper tone to his voice, trying to mimic…. His old self? When did he stop being Kolt? When did he become this pitiful creature? He had worked so hard not to break! Where did these cracks come from? Who…

“Kolt! It is good to see you again, even under the circumstances,” Phoenix said, crossing the room eagerly. His voice was the same as ever, thankfully. 

Kolt was about to speak, to say something friendly in return and laugh this whole thing off, but it was all choked down as Phoenix threw his arms around Kolt, hugging him tight. 

Kolt barely breathed, the hug scaring him more than he could reason. Maybe it was because it felt like a key to unlock every bit of fear and grief he had been steadily trapping and rationalizing before locking it away for as long as he could. 

“I was so worried about you,” Phoenix whispered against Kolt’s ear. “You’re one of my favorite allies, kay? Maybe even a friend you don’t mind the term so much anymore.”

Kolt had forgotten how open Phoenix was. He had forgotten how caring and loving he had been. He’d forgotten this kindness. 

“I don’t,” he found himself saying, carefully wrapping his arms around Phoenix in return. How stupid of him to turn this affection away back in the day. He was worried about being double crossed, perhaps, but Phoenix wasn’t that kind of man. 

Phoenix pulled away, but not too far. His searching eyes came into focus. They were a warm brown color this time. So unlike the pale blue they often were in the past, before this all happened to Kolt. 

“I’ll pay for your surgeries. You’ll be under my care until you’re back on your feet,” Phoenix promised. “You should rest, of course, but I have dearly missed your intellect, my friend. If I had a dollar for every time I had wished you were there to bounce ideas off of, I would be twice as rich as I am today.”

“Kmm, business is going well then?” Kolt asked, a little weakly. 

“It has. We had a hiccup with some companies trying to make some legal version of supersoldiers, but we’ve been dealing with it quite handily. Oh, which reminds me.”

He turned and beckoned to the other figure, who prowled forward. Not in a threatening way. That seemed to just be the way he moved. 

“This is my new partner, Lynx,” Phoenix said. “He was one of those ‘legal supersoldiers’ I mentioned.”

Lynx nodded to Kolt, still not close enough to see clearly. “Phoenix has told me about you,” Lynx said. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Kolt nodded in return as Phoenix said, “You should sit down, Kolt. You’ve had a hard run of it.”

Kolt could feel an old version of himself trying to say he was strong enough to stand, but this Kolt was tired. He knew now that it was idiotic to deny yourself rest when you needed it. A lesson hard learned in those cages.

So, he sat down and Phoenix and Lynx joined him at the table. 

“Hey, Dalley,” Phoenix said, elbowing the doctor. “Good to see you. Sorry for barging in like this.”

“It’s alright, sir. Can I get you anything?”

“Lynx and I have already eaten. Thanks. Unless you want anything, Lynx.”

Lynx opened his mouth automatically to respond but he hesitated, thinking. “You know what, yeah I’ll take something. Those scones look good.”

“Feel free. I have more jams to choose from in the fridge if you would like. Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be wonderful, yes. Thank you.”

Kolt allowed himself to relax, despite one of the most powerful men in the city sitting at the table with him, despite his underdressed state, despite everything. Why had he ever shied away from Phoenix’s offers of friendship before?  

“Now we just need to sort out who to get involved in your care, Kolt, and find Gale and we’ll be set. He’s still out there looking for you, you know. He went deep undercover and-”

“He’s the one that helped me get out. They have him.”

Silence fell over the small group of four. “He… I thought you escaped on your own? I saw the footage.”

“I wasn’t trapped at that building originally. He was caught trying to free me from…. The lab? I don’t know where I was. I-”

Kolt yelped, leaping out of his chair and backing up against the wall. 

Beater, clear and grinning was coming in through the closed window, coming around the table and approaching Kolt quickly. 

Kolt cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. It was just a hallucination. 

“I thought I saw a spider, sorry,” Kolt said, stepping deftly around Beater as he threw a punch, vanishing as his fist hit the wall with a low chuckle. “I must still be jumpy. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Phoenix said, though concern colored his words. “Come sit down and have some tea. Now, tell me everything you remember about that place and we’ll see about finding Gale.”

Kolt nodded, sitting back down and glancing over his shoulder, his heart still hammering in his chest. It was fine. He was fine. Focus. Calm. Rational. It was all fine. 

So, he focused and recounted details from his time in captivity, including all of the names he remembered hearing, ignoring the way Gambler tapped impatiently at the door. 

Part 11 - Coming soon

Fallen taglist: @looptheloup @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @snakebites-and-ink @starsick1979

[dustedmagazine]

Paul Paccione and Apartment House — Distant Musics (Another Timbre)

Is Apartment House too prolific? As Another Timbre’s house band, they’re on about 40 releases. Do we really need another record of theirs, especially one focused on a lesser known composer? It seems like a fair question. And yet Distant Musics is a welcome addition to the catalog. Across five pieces the ensemble plays in a variety of configurations and introduces listeners to Paul Paccione’s music. He’s a composer and educator who taught between 1981-2018 and has been composing for over 40 years. But his discography has been sparse, making Distant Musics a good introduction.

Musically, Paccione is deeply influenced by minimalist composers like Morton Feldman and John Cage’s Number Pieces. His music is dominated by long notes played on stringed instruments and his pieces slowly unfold over five to ten minutes, if not longer. “Exit Music” opens this record with a string trio playing slow droning passages that surround the listener, pulling them along in a slow drift as the textures overlap and shift. It’s similar to the feeling Kali Malone evokes in her organ dirges and the way they envelope you in a warm space of sound.

Meanwhile “Gridwork” adds a wrinkle by introducing clarinet and piano into the mix. It starts with small plinks of piano as the strings create an eerie background texture. Heather Roche’s clarinet has a thin, wiry tone that feels like it’s a piano string pulled tight. Soon, sounds start to mesh and move around between short pauses, giving this one a lattice-like feeling of intersecting lines or a sliding tile puzzle.

“Distant Music” has a similar instrumentation - two clarinets, a violin, a viola, and a cello - and instead of the short phrases, this one is built around overlapping lines: as soon as one instrument takes a pause, two more spring up in its place. At times it’s like watching waves crashing on the shore, one after another.   

Key to this record is “Violin.” Both the longest piece here and the only one written for only one kind of instrument (four violins) this one goes deepest into his influences. Between its tense, thin opening and the way the violins overlap, it builds tension by both stretching the notes as far as they can go and emphasizing the slight dissonance between the four players. The music creaks and groans, droning like a set of bagpipes, and settles into an unsettling, otherworldly ambience.

As noted above, Paccione wears his influences on his sleeve, so one should approach Distant Music with that in mind. There’s no bombast or marches here, just five pieces of slow, sometimes atonal music. Those who’ve been keeping up with Apartment House will find this one compares well to their Number Pieces or Naiads records. So yeah, we did need another Apartment House record.

Roz Milner

[meimi-haneoka]

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Chapter 64: Comments + JP-ENG translation differences

End of the month, it's time for another blog post about the latest chapter of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card!!

This month we deal with a very important chapter, the 64th: as the last chapter of the future volume 13, it was expected to be particularly wild and with a tremendous cliffhanger, and I have to say that on my end it has respected those two qualities quite nicely!!

It started with a super unexpected surprise, and it ended with the promise for a quite turbulent volume 14 (possibly the last one?). On the translation side, we didn’t have anything major this month scratch that there's actually one that might cause major confusion, and alas there are several parts that need to be clarified in order to not misunderstand the characters.

Before starting, of course, we'll give a little space to our regular feature, the GIF OF THE MONTH:

Hold on tight, cause we're about to get (some) answers in this chapter! Under the cut!

The color page

Rejoice, SyaoSaku fans! You've not only been blessed with a wonderful double color page last month, where our two lovebirds wore very nice outfits, but this month as well CLAMP decided to break any unspoken rule about the color pages (once again) and propose once more Sakura and Syaoran, this time in their outfits for the play!

Of course they had to be shown sooner or later, since CLAMP are always very attentive in showing the colors of the most important outfits, and I believe in the next chapters the attention will be shifted somewhere else, so I bet it was now or never!

The background text in the JP version reads:

Alice in Clockland The performance begins!!!

Everything screams that yes, we're finally, officially in the climax!

Very serious expressions for our two kids (Syaoran got way too much in character 😆), along with the omnipresent gears and clocks. I didn't expect Sakura's costume to be black and white, the presence of light blue is very limited so it's kinda hard to tell it's an Alice dress...but I guess we have a peculiar Alice here. I also didn't expect so much gold and gray for Syaoran! All in all, another stunning illustration with our power couple!

And now, onto the chapter itself!

Come on, Alice, let’s go

We start exactly from where we left last time, with the play continuing (no, we didn’t end up in a different world yet) and we immediately find out that Syaoran is on stage out of his own will!!

My son, what got into you?? 😂 Kidding aside, Tomoyo is reminiscing of when Syaoran told her himself the reasons for changing his mind (I guess only fools don’t change it): first, because he could see that Naoko would’ve preferred for the cat to actually appear on stage and not only as an image voiced over. Then, it would’ve made things easier for his classmates too, who wouldn’t need to spend their efforts in animating an image of a cat, and could’ve used that energy in other more fitting parts of the preparations. In fact, here we find our first slight difference in translation:

ENG: “And I think it’d be a bigger help to everyone else, too” JP: “We could use everyone’s efforts on many other different things”

By the way, Syaoran sounds so casual and colloquial in this scene, I’m not sure it fits his personality of a serious kid (too serious for his own good).  I get a bit of dissonance and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at the tone they decided him to have.

Anyway, last but not least…being on stage would’ve allowed Syaoran to always stay by Alice/Sakura’s side, should something ever happen. Tomoyo is reminiscing of this convo in backstage and I love her serious expression, cause she seems to have understood this isn’t a normal play…..in fact, Naoko praises her for the outstanding costumes she has produced, and here Tomoyo breaks the fourth wall by saying it’s the first time for her to dwell so much on the design of the costumes, as she gets the feeling “Alice in Clockland” is very….special. I say she broke the fourth wall because this is basically Mokona-sensei speaking through Tomoyo, as she’s really had a hard time coming up with the designs of the costumes for the two Alice of this play (as revealed by Mokona and Ohkawa themselves during a Twitter Space some months ago). She produced lots of drafts and Ohkawa kept rejecting them!

Now, I have to once again point out how the ENG translation makes Tomoyo sound as if she never put too much thought into her designs, something that sounds really offensive towards a character who worked so hard until now to make her most beloved person happy and protected through her costumes. No, it’s just that this time it was particularly difficult for her.

ENG: “I don’t think I’ve ever put so much thought into costume design before…” JP: “This is the first time I’ve been troubled this much with a (costume) design….”

Please, don’t do dirty to our Tomoyo-chan, K-USA. Moving on~

Kero and Suppy are watching the play hidden between the trees, with the yellow beast commenting on how “the brat sure is showing off” (well, he did put on a very cool act which feels so not Syaoran 😆), and Suppy wondering if it was Sakura who asked him to come on stage to keep the situation checked for anything out of place….which Kero agrees with, since all the involved parties are gathered here (In the ENG it’s “the gang” while Kero calls them “the actors” in Japanese), and they can even feel a faint aura of magic. They know something is about to come up, and Nakuru touches Yukito’s shoulder to signal silently that he needs to be prepared.

The play proceeds, I cackled so hard at Touya’s slightly irritated face when seeing Syaoran STILL showing off all his coolness on stage 😂 The Cat introduces himself to Alice, and I’m not sure why they decided to translate “Are you the Cat?” into “Was…was that you all along?”, but anyway….

The Cat tells Alice that he will only show her the way, but the one who will decide what to do and what not, where to go and where not, will be only her. And once she decided….that will shape her world. Pause pause pause. Take a step back, get out of the story for one moment and try to appreciate the message CLAMP is sending through this scene. I think it’s really beautiful.

In the play, all the choices Alice will make will shape the world she’s going to see. The analogy is perfectly applicable in real life too, as all the choices we make, all the steps we take in this or that direction, the things we DO and even those we DON’T do, shape OUR world. And you can be perfectly sure that even from now on, the outcome of this climax will be decided by all the parties actively playing in it.

The song starts playing again in the background, as the choir calls and encourages Alice to go on her journey, and there’s a difference in translation in the latter part of the song that makes it probably hard to understand what really happened there. So from this part of the lyrics on out:

ENG “The story of her choice… A story all for her… And the cat that will lead the way to her dreams.. Alice… Oh, Alice… Carry on. But know… You can never go back” JP “The story Alice will choose A story (made) for Alice The [Cat] will guide her And Alice's wish will be waiting for her ahead Alice... Come on, Alice.... Go forward.... And  YOU CAN'T GO BACK ANYMORE”

You see, I’m not really sure if it’s clear enough in the ENG version because they translated the lyrics in a way that includes the last “You can’t go back anymore” as part of the song, but it isn’t like that. In a very creepy way worthy of the best horror movie, the Ominous Voice™ decided to intrude on the song at the worst possible moment. The proof is in that “Omae” (rude way to say “you”) that’s still unchanged. They would never use that in the song. This is the Ominous Voice™ Sakura is hearing, not the kids singing the song.

Translation issues aside, I was discussing with some friends that maybe we’re giving a more negative meaning to this “You can’t go back anymore” than necessary. Because if you think about it, plain and simple, this is really what happens once you make decisions for the sake of your wish. Maybe it’s just a general statement (but we remember how they portrayed it in the anime and it is undoubtedly creepy).

The Red Queen

Guided by the Cat, Alice finds her. The other main character of this play.

We see her from behind first, and you can really tell Mokona is pushing hard on the ominous and creepy flavour of this play. Not to mention, the gears that decorate the background in this scene are straight up the same gears that appeared in Sakura’s dreams ever since the beginning. Try comparing them. The mysterious person asks her why she’s here, and Alice can only realize that being here is making her heart ache.

The other person, played by Akiho, introduces herself as the Queen of this land, but when Alice asks her what’s her name, Akiho hesitates again. Yes, I don’t think this is part of the script. Because Akiho looks really pensive (and even a bit creepy here) when she gets to that part, and this is the second time it happens. Used to interpreting Clamp’s art language, I really think something is up with Akiho’s name. They never show her eyes when she hesitates. Yeah. But please can we take a second to appreciate how absolutely stunning Akiho looks in this outfit? Heels, a dark veil covering mysteriously her face, a big rose decorating her head, a victorian dress….she’s simply amazing in this dark-ish attire they dressed her in. It’s so uncommon to see her like that, and yet I find it totally fitting for her, as let’s be honest, darkness is part of her heart too. For what she went through in her childhood, and those memories will never go away. Those scars will heal, but they will always leave a mark on her. This is what makes Akiho, too, the person she is. And she’s perfectly fine like that. ….aaand let’s not go over the fact that her dress looks a tad too much similar to the one Sakura-hime wore when everything went to hell in TRC in the Tokyo Arc. Let’s not even consider that her veil really looks like a mourning veil (with her loved one being so close to his death). Or the fact that the gear decoration on the bodice is suspiciously similar to the gear decoration on her artifact dress. Nah. We won’t see those things and just proceed forward, rejoicing in the short but appreciated appearance of our Akiho.

Alice introduces herself to the Red Queen, and reaches her on top of the stairs, Cat following her shortly behind. The background in this scene seemingly changes, but as Sakura is reaching Akiho at the door shaped like a clock, the two literally disappear.

On the Other Side

That’s it, guys. The moment we all were waiting for. Let’s get the ball rolling.

And here I have, unfortunately, to point out a translation that I didn’t like at all: Syaoran, shocked, in the ENG version says “She’s gone!”, while in the JP version there isn’t a clear subject (with only the verb “disappeared”), but it really would make more sense if he said “THEY disappeared”, including Akiho too. Come on now, I get that Sakura is his girlfriend and all, but it’s really so offensive to Syaoran’s character to make him worry only about her and discard anyone else that was with her. As a dear friend on a Discord server rightfully said, “we don’t want people to assume that’s the kind of story this is”. It’s awful, to be honest. This is not what CCS is about and yes, even a slight line like this can contribute to warping things in an unwanted direction (as if they haven’t been doing the same with Kaito since day 1).

The gang in the audience doesn’t lose time, and Yukito activates his Moon Shrine powers immediately, seemingly summoning Yue (we can see his wings) and engulfing the entire school under his protective night barrier. His eyes turn into those of Yue too. As he does that, Touya blows all of us away with a single spell:

JP: “Oh, Time. Stop.”

Yes, my friends. Touya used his super secret new power and it’s time magic. Time magic! Let that sink in for a moment…

Time stops for everyone, unaware of anything, save for Suppy and Kero, and Yukito warns Syaoran right away: (yeah, another translation difference)

ENG: “We can’t keep time frozen forever out here, you know!” JP: “Our side (we) can only stop time for a short while”

Why. What happened here, that Yukito is sounding so f*cking rude to Syaoran??? Yeah, Yuki is warning Syaoran to hurry up and go because time won’t remain frozen for too long. But he’s doing it in an infinitely kinder way than what the ENG blurted out here. I just can’t see Yukito like this. And no, it’s not an effect of half-transforming into Yue, as his speech tone didn’t change into Yue’s one. It’s still Yukito, just a bit more confident. Moreover, he’s using the “this side/that side” that’s been used by Kaito all along. The “separation” between the two sides of this ordeal, that needs to be overcome at the end of the story, to spread the message of love and understanding that Cardcaptor Sakura always stood proudly for. Moreover, it is a way for Yukito to imply that he knows “that side” (Kaito) can stop time for longer, but they (“this side”) can only do this much.

Continuing with the chapter, Touya rudely (Yes, he’s being rude 😆) tells Syaoran to hurry up and go through the “portal”, and Syaoran yells “I’ll bring her back without fail!” (I think here it might be more forgivable to say “her” and not “them” even though we have no subject in JP, because Syaoran is making a promise to Touya with something that is very much related to him, his sister). Syaoran goes and the portal closes on itself, as Yukito informs us. I have to say, this scene reminded me HUGELY of the agitated moments at the end of the first chapter of TRC, where Syaoran left for another dimension in order to save Sakura-hime, and Touyuki creating together “an opening” for him to go saving her…. Also, I loved how big brother Touya put aside his natural competition with Syaoran, to entrust his precious sister to him. It was already shown in episode 09 of the Clear Card anime, and here his behavior coherently makes no exception. He knows Syaoran loves Sakura more than his own life and he’s dead serious when he makes a promise like that.

Nakuru funnily says that stopping time is quite a cheat, but Touya tells us how things actually are. And to do that, he’s reminiscing a talk he had with his mother, some time ago (apparently, from the outfit and what she says, it’s the same day she appeared to Fujitaka and told him the story of her and Lilie). They talked about Sakura getting involved in something strange again, her powers growing at worrying speed, and how she can now see things she couldn’t see before, because apparently her own fear of ghosts and such put a cap on the development of such capability. In my opinion, this is something Sakura did at a subconscious level, though. There was no conscious effort (especially cause before the Clow Book, she didn’t know she possessed powers). Well, now that “lid” has definitely popped off, because of her huge amount of powers. And if those powers grow uncontrollably any more than this, Sakura won’t be able to govern them anymore. Touya knows their mother has been worrying about this ever since Sakura was born. So they discuss the new ability he’s developed lately: of course Nadeshiko already knows about it, which is the ability to stop time for about 2 seconds. (Note: in the ENG version they failed to understand that the line correctly translated “You can stop time” was actually said by Nadeshiko, not Touya!! Nadeshiko was merely finishing off her son’s phrase, that’s all. She isn’t saying that she can stop time, it doesn’t make sense! As I always say, when in doubt look at the multiple layers of the story, the peculiar shape of the bubble is right there to indicate that it’s Nadeshiko speaking. Just as you can well recognize when Sakura or Syaoran are acting and when they’re actually speaking normally, since CLAMP took care in using different fonts for that. I’ll never get tired to say it, you can’t read and translate Clear Card properly taking in consideration only the script)

Touya asks her mother if he could use that power should anything happen to his sister. Nadeshiko, ENG: “Yes, in her time of need. But don’t do it alone.” Nadeshiko, JP: “You’ll be able to use it for an important moment. Together with another magic power”

And that’s when we find out that when Yukito puts an entire area under the protection of his barrier, Touya’s minimal powers get enhanced greatly and he can stop time for a longer while. Isn’t this just the power couple moment I guess Touyuki fans were waiting for? 😁 It’s very lovely to think that the power of one of them can amplify the other’s….I want to believe that it’s possible thanks to their great connection and feelings they have for eachother. Nakuru is surprised but can confirm that she can feel both their powers being greatly amplified by eachother (a nuance that was totally lost in the ENG translation), but that’s when Kero completely blows his cover by yelling “SO IT IS A CHEAT!” 😂😂😂 Touya tells both Suppy and Kero to come out cause he’s known about them all along, and explains that this isn’t simply a “cheat”, they’ve been training very hard to achieve that! And this, my friends, is probably one of the scenes people were looking forward to the most, cause it was weird that they kept pretending to not know, when everything was already out in the open at the end of the previous arc! 😂 Now Touya can officially be part of the magic discussions too, if they want, and we can see how his “relationship” with the guardian beast will be! 😆

The chapter ends with a huge cliffhanger about what will happen now that the group of the “veterans” (I call them like that) has been separated, and how could we close this chapter without a translation difference?

Yukito, ENG: “Besides, it seems we can only help her on this side of the door” Yukito, ENG: “It’s all up to the Cat now” Touya, ENG: “I’m sure we didn’t stop him, after all”

Yukito, JP: "But since it seems we cannot do anything at all 'to the other side' (Kaito)..." Yukito, JP: "If the Cat won't do his best...." Touya, JP:  "We won't be able to stop him".

Touya and Yukito are using the nai to + darou form here, indicating “if this doesn’t happen, then…” in future tense. To be fair, though, the Spanish translation follows the ENG interpretation, while the French one interpreted it like me. So you have both interpretations here and can keep in consideration both of them.

Syaoran needs to absolutely work his best in order to stop Kaito, because both Yukito and Touya are well aware that they cannot do that. And it’s not only a matter of mere amount of magic. I’ve always had the impression that Touya somehow knows what’s tormenting Kaito and making him act like this, so that’s why he hasn’t taken more drastic measures earlier. In view of this, both of them know they do not hold the key necessary to stop Kaito. But Syaoran might have what it takes to start destroying the walls Kaito is using to barricade himself. Understanding. A small, first step into helping him. Cause then, we all know who will be the one giving him the final blow.

This is it guys, from next chapter (the first of the future volume 14) we’ll hopefully be on the other side. Or we’ll get more flashbacks in order to collect all the puzzle pieces missing from the new character’s backstories. Regardless, we’ll proceed forward, towards the end of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card, hopefully answering all the questions still up in the air. Surprisingly enough, we won’t even get a break! Chapter 65 will be out as normal schedule on August 1st / July 31st for the western fandom. The schedule is as follows:

July 31st, on Bookwalker, if things get back to normal, cause this month they’re super late (digital, ENG) August 1st, on Clamp-fans and Comic-days (digital, JP and other languages) August 3rd, on Nakayoshi (paper and digital, JP) I cannot wait to see who will be on the next color page. My bet: Akiho and Kaito! These two need a long overdue color spread together! And we need to see the color of their outfits!

Thank you for reading this commentary post and see you next time!!

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Tower

Written by @oftachancer and I for the @30daysofdorian event!

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

CW: Blight sickness; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

Dorian nudged the door to Felix’s chambers open with his hip, holding the heavy tray of foul-smelling tea out in front of him. The room was scorching, even hotter than the Tevinter summer sun beating down on Asariel, to try and ward off the chill that threatened to consume the heir to House Alexius.

“Felix, your father sent me up with your afternoon tea,” Dorian called, already starting to sweat. “I nicked a few of those cinnamon cookies from the kitchen to go with it.”

He was pale and thin, shivering in the baking space, rocking in a nest of blankets and multi-layered robes. Felix lifted his gaze miserably. “The healer said no sugar.” The once dulcet tones had turned to sand in his throat. He held his hand out. “Nevermind. I can’t possibly get worse. Thank you.” He ran his hand through sweat-damp hair and came away with a few dark strands caught in his fingers. He winced and brushed them off hurriedly. “Not long, I think.” He said that every day now. “I was thinking- maybe instead of a choir, just a collection of the loudest drums you can muster? A cacophony. It would be fun to go out in a cacophony.”

“Yes?” Gereon hated to hear him talk like this. He’d grow sullen for days, not saying more than a few syllables to Dorian at a time. Felix had been planning his funeral for nearly two years.

“Rilienus says they play drums at all the funerals in Rivain. Some of them are as big as a house, he says.”

Rilienus. Rilienus Maecilia. An heir in his own right, studying in Rivain. Why did that-

“We could go there, if you like,” Dorian offered, even though it’d involve travel by sea, which neither of them particularly fancied. “Would you? It’s warmer, I’ve heard. Sweltering, even. We could meet his mentor.”

Why would they? What business did they have with anyone else when Felix was wasting away?

“No,” Felix shook his head, wincing as he swallowed down a gulp of steaming tea. “No. I want to stay here, where I know I’ll be able to see the Nocen. I wouldn’t mind hearing some more of Rilienus’ stories, though. Do you think he’d eschew his harp for a set of drums for me?”

Sound like liquid starlight, eyes closed in concentration. He could almost hear a melody on the wind, if he strained.

“I think he would, with some cajoling,” Dorian murmured, lowering down to sit at Felix’s bedside. “Your father thinks we’re getting closer,” he admitted softly. “I’ve my doubts.”

“He needs to think that.” Felix frowned, looking down. “Can you ask Rilienus to come back? I’d like to see him before… And I think Father will need the support. You shouldn’t have to shoulder it alone.”

Alone. When had he been anything but alone? There was a buzzing between his ears, the tightness in his stomach returning.

“I’ll ask,” Dorian said with a slight smile, patting Felix’s slender leg gingerly. “I know you appreciate his company, especially when we’re working.”

Felix nibbled on the cookie, leaning back against his pillow. “I wanted to be your best man. I was looking forward to it. Maybe you can get Maevaris to read my speech for me?” 

“My-“ His voice faded, replaced by a crashing dissonance. Dorian clutched his ears, keeling over onto his knees, screaming as the sound threatened to tear him apart. The walls quaked, dust filling the air and his lungs as they crumbled. “Don’t make me go!” He shouted into the void, the floor falling out from under him, tears carving rivers through the dirt that collected on his cheeks. “Felix, don’t-“

Strong, steady arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. The man they belonged to smelled of ink and parchment, of nights reading by firelight and mornings lazing in the sun. Dorian could hear the plucking of strings faintly in the distance, ethereal and full of sorrow.

“Rilienus,” Dorian whispered, without withdrawing. He didn’t need to. He knew that scent, the feel of those hands, as well as he knew his own name. “Rilienus, where- What is happening to me?”

“We’re getting there, Dorian.” His breath was warm against the back of Dorian’s ear. “I hadn’t even thought of Felix. That’s new. New is good.” 

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Dorian leaned against him, relying on his strength. “Why is everything so muddled?”

“…I’m not sure. I have theories. You have walls as steep as the southern Steppes around that. But I can tell you this: you’ve been lost and this is the first you’re hearing me, hearing my name, in a long time. We’re going to find out together, love.”

Love. His love. Words as solid as marble, truth etched in stone. Dorian felt as though he might crumble in Rilienus’ arms. “We were- Felix said he meant to be my best man.” He pressed his cheek to Rilienus’ shoulder. “We meant to marry. Did we not?”

“Two months ago. You were missing. I found you.” Rilienus said each sentence slowly, holding him, invisible while Felix laughed and smiled and planned his funeral silently in a fading room. “I will find you again. I always will. Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dorian said the word in an aching gasp, clinging to Rilienus as though he were the last rope mooring him to reality. “I believe you, though. I don’t- I don’t entirely remember why I do, but I do. I’m- you must hate me for forgetting.”

“No. I hate this spell. You’ve always been quicker at taking apart these kinds of things than I am.” His words were a tumble, his heartbeat ricocheted against Dorian’s back. “I have missed you, my dawn light.”

“…months, you said?” Dorian whispered, afraid of the answer. “Where- My memories. What’s- A spell?”

“A very thorough spell. Rishiri Arcana style. It’s… heavy. And complicated. A labyrinth with a lot of doors. We’ve been through several of the same ones, but you’re starting to find your way. I tried pressing through the walls, but you started screaming-“ He took a slow breath as his voice thickened. “It’s your mind. Your precious mind. Your wondrous heart. I can’t take risks with either.”

“Rishiri Arcana…” Dorian closed his eyes, searching- “Blood magic? On my mind. To change my memories. To- What end could that possibly serve?” 

“I could tell you what I think,” Rilienus murmured. “But you’re having enough trouble with what you know.”

A horrible thought occurred to him and he cupped Rilienus’ cheeks. “Will I forget you again?”

“It’s alright if you do. I’ll be here when you remember.” Hands covered his own and he could see bright green again, soft and warm and loving him. “He’s here, you know. With my mother. Bald, but it suits him. He’s here.”

“Felix?” Dorian murmured, holding his face as though it were the most precious thing in the world. It was, he knew, the knowledge from somewhere deep and slumbering. “He’s alive? Can I see him?”

Rilienus hesitated, thumbing his cheek. “When you come back, yes.” 

“My memories,” Dorian said softly. This wasn’t real. Or it had been, once. “Right. Can you guide me towards one I’ve forgotten?”

Rilienus nodded slowly. “I wasn’t there. But I’ll be with you, even if you don’t see me. Maybe it will guide you towards something I don’t know about.” He kissed his cheek gently. “You’re ready?”

[very-odd-resistance]

[Oddworld Asks] 7,8 and 18

7. Which non-sapient species is your favourite? (I.e. paramites, scrabs, slogs etc)

Love scrabs and paramites equally except for the fact that scrabs also terrify me with their roar (it toned down a bit as I've got used to it now, but when i was a kid - it scared the shit outta me). So I think - Shrykull (I know it's a deity and not a separate species, but it's literally a paramite and a scrab as one entity)

8. Which is your favourite level/cutscene?

Every game has my own favourite moments and there's too much of them but I shall say that every Soulstorm cutscene is amazing and they've set the plank Oddworld have never been at before. As a hobbyist 3D artist and animator myself I am absolutely amazed by the outcome! The overall idea to implement the classic rules of animation on realistic models gives you that slight dissonance very similiar to uncanny valley, instead it's not! I'd rather say it looks... Odd ;) But in a good way! Clearly adds up to the whole concept of the world and it's inhabitats being slightly weird to our human eye but so real at the same time.

Personally, I was sitting with my jaw open for first time, and for the second, and even now when I'm rewatching it, spotting more and more tiny details, which I will continue looking for, for a looong time.

Honorable mentions:

Oddworld: Munch's Oddysey - The Vykkers's Lab first scene, because Irwin and Humprey's interaction is something that ruined my overall impression of vykkers being a cold-blooded-edgy-alien-sadist-machines I had before I played Munch's Oddysey. Turned out it's just a bunch of dumb pragmatic nerds with saws and cleavers. Also, the weirdest married couple I've ever seen.

Oddworld: Abe's Oddysey - The opening scene. My mind was branded with this cutscene, leaving an unforgetable mark on it forever. Also yes, I’ve had an original version of the game, with a mudokon head on a stick. My 5 year old brain remembered it very well. But little did I know that it’s not the scariest thing I had yet to see.

And Rupture Farms is also my most favourite level too. Yes, not even Slig Barracks, not even Bonewerkz, which I also like because of amazing sountrack and industrial look. Rupture Farms is still the coldest, the darkest and most unfriendly among them all IMO.

18. How many times have you played the games?

Let’s see. I am not sure on how to count it. If it’s a time when you turn your console on to play it - then a lot, an ungodly amount of times. Especially during the PS1 era. But if we estimate it by runs, then:

Abe’s Oddysee: 1 run (failed, because my disk was damaged).

Abe’s Exoddus: 3 runs (one on PS1, one completed recently with only 20 muds unsaved, the new run is in progress)

Munch’s Oddysee: 1 run

Soulstorm: 1 run, 2 endings (Got a bad one first, then went for a good one).

Keeping New’n’Tasty as a hostage, so I wouldn’t feel like I played all the games + Still trying to find some time to play Stranger’s Wrath.

[the27percent]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

What does your muse smell like? Atieno has a very subtle smell, it make take a while for someone to pick up on the smell that they have. It's a bit on the cleaner side, akin to ozone more than anything else - there's an odd warm spice to the scent mixed in there too. That can be relaxing to pick up on. But that likely only comes up if you're close to them enough to notice the layers to their smell.

What do your muse’s hands feel like? When they touch you, you can just feel that there's a depth and vastness to their touch that they tend to underplay on the regular basis. Otherwise, their hands are somewhat on the smoother side at least initially. There are moments when they just finished a task where that roughness of it tends to linger a little while after.

What does your muse usually eat in a day? Can not be counted on to eat consistently. There are moments where they will go a long time without eating especially if they are alone. But they do like checking out different snacks and meals, so it's very dependent on the location. They will pretty much try anything honestly. They usually like to have something savory and something sweet during the same day. Flavor contrast and all.

Does your muse have a good singing voice? They do. It's a bit on the lower, more haunting kind of side, but it is a pleasant enough voice. They can make it especially dissonant - but otherwise, it just has this resonant, melancholy quality to it.

Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? because they have a very questionable relationship with their sense of self, there's a lot of self-neglect and abandonment that doesn't immediately show up as such just because they don't actually have a lot of needs.But when they have been denying themself just to do so .. it kind of does show up and it takes a bit of a toll even when they try to break that habit.

fidgets with their hair, taps their feet a little bit as something of a habit, also letting out little low humming noises when they are trying to think.

What does your muse usually look like / wear? the more anthropomorphic atieno most individuals run into is a rough 6' if not a bit taller depending on location, individual with dark brown skin with prominent, very prominent blue undertones. to the point where one can really see the blue in their tone, along with the silvery-blue and black markings that cover their 'skin'. they tend to have long dark blue and black locs or braids, often pinned up in a crest-like style or just long flowing. but they've worn bobs, and longer wavy hair too.

mostly in a black leather jacket, fishnet top, loose pants, black boots, fingerless gloves. am likely to wear a suit or dress-like outfit for specific occasions. silver and blue accent colors. appears to have piercings in their eyebrows, nose, multiple in their ears.

they can be found in a more shadowy amorphic figure where there are hints of what people recognize there.. but is mixed with the vaster, more ... ambiguous kind of figure that tends to drift away in the hidden places.

Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so? Atieno doesn't come across as too affectionate initially because they tend to err on the overly cautious side of things. But, if they are in a connection that allows for it, they can be quite affectionate. Slight teasing, casual touches, holding hands, they like being close to someone that they really like - they crave it honestly. But.. acting on that is another thing altogether.

What position does your muse sleep in? Sometimes Atieno just dissipates into their larger form to get some actual rest and not be bothered for a while. If they are sleeping in their more anthropomorphic form.. it's often on their side, wrapped up in a blanket, letting the comfort allow them to rest and 'meditate' for a while. They may switch to their back or stomach over the course of an evening.

Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? It would be difficult if they don't want to be heard. They can move very very quietly and tend to do so by default without meaning to. But if they make a point to be heard, yeah you can hear them.

Tagged by:@phantombs

Tagging: @sanseitm @theyvefallen @stxr-bxster @smokescholar

[dewaxar]

Home

Chapter 4

(Not proofread)

The next morning when she woke up she felt damp, she had been sweating through the night, she felt gross when she begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed.

Eliana's frustration grew as she reluctantly navigated the morning rituals. The persistent dampness on her skin made her feel uncomfortable in her own body, and the relentless gaze of the servants only added to her irritation. When she encountered the overly cheerful servant at the foot of her bed, she suppressed an exasperated sigh.

"Where can I have a bath?" Eliana's tone, tinged with annoyance, betrayed her growing impatience. She craved solitude, a moment away from the watchful eyes that seemed to follow her every move.

The servant, undeterred by her curt demeanor, offered a chipper response. "Of course, my lady. I will have people bring in the tub and a few handmaidens to assist you in your bathing."

Eliana scowled at the thought of additional eyes invading her personal space. The promise of assistance felt more like an intrusion, and the prospect of not having the coveted alone time she sought only fueled her frustration. The vision of a solitary bath, a moment of respite from the suffocating atmosphere of the Red Keep, began to crumble.

As she prepared for the bath, Eliana couldn't shake the sense of entrapment that surrounded her. The luxurious chambers, while grand, felt like a golden cage, each ornate detail a reminder of her constrained existence. The scalding water poured into the tub did little to soothe her simmering frustration.

The handmaidens entered the chamber with practiced efficiency, their presence amplifying Eliana's irritation. As they assisted her in disrobing, she couldn't suppress a resentful glance in their direction. The intrusion of others into this private moment only heightened her feeling of vulnerability.

Throughout the bath, Eliana's anger simmered just beneath the surface. She yearned for autonomy, resenting the constant presence of attendants who seemed oblivious to her desire for solitude. The intricate decorations on the edge of the bath seemed to mock her, a symbol of the life of luxury that most would kill for but left her wanting to kill someone to escape it.

As the bath concluded, Eliana emerged from the tub, the weight of her damp hair and the clinging robe, a physical manifestation of her discontent. The grandeur of the Red Keep offered no comfort, and the realization that her every move was scrutinized left her seething with frustration.

Draped in a new gown, Eliana exited her chambers, determined to navigate the day with an air of defiance. The elaborate halls echoed with the sounds of court life, and Eliana, despite her tumultuous emotions, moved through them with a regal facade.

The sunlit courtyard beckoned, and Eliana ventured outside, seeking a breath of fresh air to dispel the lingering tension. As she walked, the distant laughter of courtiers mingled with the rustle of leaves overhead, creating a dissonant symphony that mirrored the conflicting emotions within her.

A familiar figure caught her eye—aegon, Prince Aemond's older brother. Aegon approached with a casual charm, a stark contrast to Aemond's formality. "Eliana" he greeted with a slight smirk.

Eliana's initial response was guarded, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. "Prince Aegon," she acknowledged with a nod, avoiding direct eye contact.

He fell into step beside her, an easy camaraderie developing between them. "The Red Keep can be overwhelming, can it not?" Aegon's tone was light, almost conspiratorial.

Eliana hesitated, her defenses slowly softening at the possibility of a bond after all of hers had been severed. "Overwhelming is an understatement," she admitted, her gaze shifting to meet his. The shared acknowledgment of their discontent formed an unspoken bond.

As they strolled through the courtyard, Aegon regaled her with tales of the city, his anecdotes infused with a wry humor that elicited a reluctant smile from Eliana. The walls she had built around herself began to crack, and a hesitant camaraderie developed between them.

Their conversation shifted to more personal matters, and Eliana found herself sharing snippets of her life in the North. Aegon listened attentively, his easygoing demeanor creating an unexpected sense of comfort. Eliana, though still guarded, felt a glimmer of connection that transcended the constraints of courtly formality.

The day unfolded with a series of encounters and distractions, each moment revealing a different facet of court life. Despite her initial resistance, Eliana found herself drawn to the unexpected companionship with Aegon, a respite from the stifling expectations that surrounded her.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Eliana returned to her chambers, her exhaustion now mingled with a complexity of emotions. The day had been a tapestry of contradictions—frustration, camaraderie, and an undeniable yearning for a semblance of control. In the quiet solitude of her chamber, Eliana grappled with the shifting dynamics around her, uncertain of the path that lay ahead.

[redhairedlesbians]

some parts of me lie between now and where i should be. some lie in the past between then and before. others lie in you, in the snow of a cold december afternoon. you are rolling a ball in the few inches of snow, in a collection ritual for a snowman.

i grew up in small city road island. your tone inclines a slight dissonance. we play cops and robbers with bloods and crips and laugh at the absurdity of violence until it becomes us. brilliant kid to high school dropout. two days from me, an angel named after our uncle.

we had the potential to be more, but not enough resources for follow-through. i was pushed forward up a steep hill, and you down it. the only thing in our control is our attitudes, as our parents controlled our aptitudes.

our prejudices proceed us. your skin a dark caramel, you are pushed deeper into the darkness. they thought nothing of you, when i knew you could have been so much more. i want more for you, a love that precedes birth, a connection from life and limb and womb.

our mothers were pregnant together. a collective art of creation. we grow together as children. we grow apart as adults. a last name, a bloodline, a game of ambition and second chances.

[asmarly]

asked chatgpt to generate a response from a classical music reviewer about a fart. here it is:

"Well, I must say that was excellent! The tone had a distinct vibrato to it, with a slight hint of dissonance in the middle range. The pitch seemed to rise and fall in a natural and organic way, almost like a miniature symphony. I detected a subtle shift in timbre towards the end, which added a touch of dramatic flair. Overall, I would say that the piece had a certain je ne sais quoi, a quality that I have seldom encountered in my years of reviewing classical music. While it may not be to everyone's taste, I must admit that there was something undeniably captivating about the sound. Bravo, bravo!"

[ariatec]

For this piece I felt that the art style used reflected a mysterious and dreamy feeling. The instrumentation is unorthodox making use of the same grand piano VST from the last piece but also an oboe and flute from EastWest Symphonic Orchestra as well as the EastWest Hollywood Harp and Solo Cello and Fracture Sounds’ Dreamy Zither. A zither is any stringed instrument whose strings are the same length as it’s soundboard.

The zither and harp are playing a chordal ostinato going from Cm - Baug - Cm - Baug - B b5

I decided to use the harp to give the sound of the zither some more body and I chose the zither because it has a ‘dream layer’ which sounds similar to a synth pad playing with it. This layer is easiest to hear on the sustained note at the end of the piece.

The piano is supporting them as playing a very simple bassline of just sustained chord tones to emphasise the chord changes.

The solo cello has it’s own ostinato where it rises a fifth from C to G, the cello patch I used has a rich vibrato and I used the modulation wheel to control the crescendo and decrescendo.

The flute and the oboe are the main melodic instruments but they also play some sustained notes to add some dissonance when they aren’t playing their respective melodies. The combination of flute and oboe is quite common in an orchestral setting but I felt the nasal sound of the oboe fit well with the slight ‘twangy’ sound of the zither. I also used a flute playing an octave above the oboe to fill the texture some more with a high part, to allow some melodic dovetailing and to add more timbral variation.

[upalldown]

Björk - Fossora

Tenth studio album from the Icelandic singer and musician features contributions from Serpentwithfeet as well as her two children Sindri and Ísadóra

8/13

It was, perhaps, only a matter of time before Björk, that great musical nature writer, worked her way round to the living world’s weirdest kingdom: the life-from-death forms of fungi. One of the most beautiful tracks on her 10th album, Fossora, is Mycelia, named for the fine fungal threads that form colonies to break down dead matter.

Björk imagines the march of these cottony filaments as staccato vocal chorales, a kind of underground birdsong that grows faster and harder. It calls to mind the work of Dr Suzanne Simard, the Canadian scientist who discovered the role of mycorrhizal networks in resource-sharing between trees – the “wood-wide web”. “Fungal cities subterranean… sunken mystery!” cries Björk on Fungal City, imagining new love mushrooming up from the activity of the soil beneath, her voice coiling around that of US singer-producer Serpentwithfeet.

Biophilia may have been the title of her 2011 seventh album, but the Icelandic composer’s penchant for irrepressible life forms has had an ongoing life of its own in her work. Fossora, she says, is a feminisation of the Latin word for “burrower” (badgers are “fossorial” mammals). The life of the soil, nesting and burial are just three themes that grow directly out of this fertile loam. Terroir is another. Conceived during lockdown, when anyone in their right mind would have hastened back to their native island home, Fossora found Björk on Icelandic turf for an extended period, hosting micro-raves in her house. All she wanted to play was gabber – the pounding 90s Dutch variant on techno.

So Fossora has proper beats on it, a kind of holy grail for longtime Björk fans who remember her clubbier past. And you can, just about, dance to some of these songs – although it would probably look more like headbanging. The title track offers up a particularly extreme cocktail of punishing percussion and swirling vocals. The beats throughout come in association with Indonesian gabber merchants Gabber Modus Operandi.

Björk’s intention was to react against the airy themes of her previous album, Utopia (2017). Many wind instruments remain, but these tend to be bass clarinets – often six of them – alongside trombone, oboe and cor anglais, hooting and groaning.

Where Björk occasionally breaks with this lower tone palette on tracks such as Allow, it’s to let an army of flutes unleash a ravey melody to lub-dub beats. Part of this album is devoted to new romantic relationships, fantasias in which love can take root again after 2015’s anguished Vulnicura, which dealt with the breakdown in Björk’s relationship with her daughter’s father. The slight downside is that, like some Walt Disney cartoon bluebirds, these trilling flutes and whimsical clarinets break the mood of majestic ache that makes Fossora one of Björk’s hardest-hitting albums.

Björk’s mother died in 2018 after a long illness; a number of these songs are tributes to Hildur Rúna Hauksdóttir. Ancestress is explicitly billed as an epitaph. Forgoing the more rigid Icelandic tradition in which a priest lists facts about the deceased, Björk celebrates her mother’s idiosyncrasies – her dyslexia, her homeopath’s cantankerous disregard for doctors. Details such as the smell of her passing are set to brittle strings and dissonant beats, with Björk’s son, Sindri, on backing vocals. An epic video follows a funeral procession that re-enacts Hildur’s death in fantastical form, a “matrimort” with the earth.

When Björk describes her mother, she is often also describing herself (“She had an idiosyncratic sense of rhythm… she invents words and adds syllables!”). There’s more mother-daughter slippage, too, on the elegiac Her Mother’s House, the closing track. Björk describes her mother’s voice, and likens her house to the chambers of her heart. The guest here is Björk’s own daughter, Ísadóra Bjarkadóttir Barney, whose move away from home at 19 is reflected upon here, another crank along the gearwheel of life.

If it’s possible, Sorrowful Soil is even more emotional. In this eulogy for Hildur, set to a distant bassline, massed choirs follow Björk’s lead as she sings about the quantity of eggs produced by a woman’s body, her “emotional textile”. The way she sings “emotional” recalls the “emotional landscapes” of 1997’s Jóga.

“You did your best, you did well,” insist the voices, digitally persistent: “did, did, did!” It’s pretty much the best thing a child can say to their mother – or vice versa – particularly when the two women didn’t always have an easy relationship.

Less obviously, the exquisite Atopos finds Björk emphasising the importance of persevering with relationships; it also partially addresses her mother. The track captures the wonders of Fossora in miniature – hammering beats, a thicket of tense clarinets, and Björk’s unmistakable vocal in didactic mode, upfront and emphatic.

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2022/oct/01/bjork-fossora-review-one-of-her-hardest-hitting-albums