#strains of martial music

[free-and-to-none-accountable]

I got a very early lesson in how not-dangerous cities are b/c I was 19 when I moved from The Woods(tm) to The Big City(tm) for the first time and I was also suicidally depressed and I got it into my head that if I spent enough time wandering about in The Bad Part of Town(tm) eventually some manner of Dangerous Criminal(tm) would show up and attempt to do violence to me, which sounded like a decently rock-and-roll way to die when you're 19 years old and have a lot of untreated mental illnesseses.

So what happened was I spent a lot of free time getting drunk and aimlessly wandering around the city, where I had lots of interesting conversations with lots of perfectly nice people, which helped a lot with the suicidal depression it turned out.

[slowd1ving]

STRESS, STRAIN: THE TALE OF YOUNG MODULUS AND A FORLORN PHYSICS STUDENT ゜゜・BLADE DRABBLE

Dealing with a stalker roommate? No problem, Kafka's got the perfect solution: staying with the unapproachable and cold Blade. Teetering the thin line between sleeping on the streets and facing his rumored wrath, it sure is hard keeping your balance when the engineering student is anything but civil. gender-neutral, physics major reader paired with college au + band au (will come into play in another part I swear) see here for some basic designs for them warnings: some violence? consumption of alcohol, arguments, blade being a dick, college au wc: 6.3k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

✧ Perhaps it’s lucky that your acquaintance Kafka finds you at your most dire of moments, or perhaps it’s your Achilles-level misfortune finally catching up to you. Dorm changes aren’t particularly infrequent, sure—but dealing with a stalkerish, obsessive roommate is definitely story-material for when you’re downing shots. Literature major Kafka isn’t one to turn her magnanimous back on whom she considers a friend, even if said friend is currently wallowing their sorrows away by complaining about the lack of available dorms to make the switch and drowning in hard liquor.  ✧ Saviour Kafka, who plays for notorious metal group Stellaron Hunters (she’s a suave electric violinist), finds this a perfect opportunity to help out the cute guitarist from the rival Trailblazers! Her deft fingers are already sending a message to her pinned contact and drummer: Bladie, finally found you a roommate. Respond. It should be okay to put two college students (in bands infamous for their tense rivalry on– and off–campus) together in the proverbial lab rat cage; after all, neither of you are aware of who the other is behind the elaborate masks. It’s not like there’s a deficit of music groups at the Astral Institute—so who will ever know? Don’t ask how she knows the face behind the pretty Venetian mask. She won’t ever tell.   ✧ Honestly, she’s not sure how the bad blood started (she helped spread the rumours). All she cares about is doing you a solid!

“You think the streets will accept me for who I am?” Even with your head slumped over your forearms and the smell of cheap vodka clinging to your clothes, Kafka thinks you look naively charming in the dim amber lights of a bar pretending to be upscale. And by naive, she means very naive—for real, how can a physics major be so gullible as to not question their roommate’s deranged tendencies until it’s far too late? It’s hilarious. 

She’d dissect how this mood is perfectly, pathetically fallacious to your situation; yet her mind is too honed in on the buzz of her phone as Blade finally replies to her text. 

“Kafka,” you bawl into a stack of papers you’d salvaged from your ransacked dorm. “What if the asphalt doesn’t like me when I’m sleeping in the streets?”

21:48 > ok. 

Kafka, being an expert at metaphorical and allegorical interpretation, translates Blade-speak easily: let’s discuss this tomorrow, please and thank you. 

“Found you a roomie,” she murmurs delightedly, watching with her hawk-keen eyes as you sit up drunkenly. 

“That was fast, even for you,” you wipe your eyes cautiously—still wracked with the occasional hiccup. “Who is it?”

“Blade. You know him?”

✧ That sobers you right up.  Of course you know him. Nicknamed Blade for how cold and unfriendly he is, you’ve personally seen him in engineering lectures: making people shiver from just his gaze alone, and on one notable occasion, making his project partner cry after his infamously harsh criticism of her proposal. It’s common knowledge that he practises various martial arts, but the rumours that circle around him like vultures whisper of how he uses them on the streets. But whilst you doubt the reliability of the latter talk, it’s hard not to picture his hands dripping sanguine when his eyes glint the same shade.  ✧ Honestly, how bad could it be? It’s not like you have any other options unless you want to wake up with your roommate standing over you while you sleep again. After her, you doubt he’ll be any more of a walking nightmare.  ✧ Perfect!—Kafka is a bit too enthusiastic at your reluctant nodding, but you cast it from your mind as you pack your stuff with Caelus and Stelle standing behind you like a pair of twin guard dogs. One good thing about this is that you can finally take your guitar with you (rather than storing it safely at Dan Heng’s room) to the apartment—because of course he’s too good for the dorms. Though, after experiencing your batshit roommate, you really can’t blame him for avoiding this area.  ✧ Maybe, just maybe, the rumours about him being insane too are false and you can finally have a peaceful night’s rest without fearing for your life. 

Yeah right. You hate him. You genuinely hate the man over in the room next door. The passage of time on your phone indicates it’s only been a week since you showed up with five boxes of belongings and a nervous smile on your lips—but the agony you’re going through prolongs this mental period to eternity. 

Sisyphus embodies futility for evermore; as do you when you’re knocking on his door for the nth time to beg him to quiet down on his drums. The timings are so meticulous and calculative that you’re sure you could work out a linear sequence to this situation if you tried. 

Exhausted from the laboratory job you’re juggling on top of band practice and reading on Dirac notations? No problem—Blade’s busy expressing how you feel in terms of loud crashing and banging that you hate to admit is (very technically) skilled.

Recalling your first encounter—your nervous smile and his cold indifference as you moved into the room next to his—it’s not hard to imagine that he’d be inconsiderate of you. Those red eyes had slid right past you like oil on water: judging you to be not worth his time to even greet properly. In fact, it’s like he’s trying to chase you out so you leave him alone for good. 

The deep mahogany door swings inward, and you’re left facing an unimpressed, scowling Blade. With the way he’s clutching those drumsticks, you’d think he was about to skewer you—but you’re a bit too preoccupied with how he’s only sporting a pair of loose navy trousers that cascade languidly from his hips. 

“What do you want?” Laconic as ever, he gets straight to the point with his question—as if he can’t possibly fathom why you’ve come knocking. Just like this morning, just like last night, the night before, the night before yesterday’s—every damned night is a problem. 

“For you to invest in soundproofing,” you scowl back, too tired to keep up the fragile facade of politeness. At least when you practise with the electric guitar, you can easily hook it up to a pair of headphones and protect the sanctity of silence elsewhere. Actually, you don’t think he even knows your guitar exists with how considerate you are of your asshole roommate. 

“Why should I?” he crosses his arms, looking directly down at you. If you looked closely, the slight stretch of his lips resembled a smirk—but you’re definitely mistaken, since the man never so much as smiles. The cold expression accompanying his crude words sums up his thoughts: if you don’t like it, beg Kafka for whatever other solution she has. 

His inky hair sways from where it’s tied back, and you resist the urge to yank it until he sees sense. 

“For better quality of life,” you grit out. 

Those eyes turn into sardonic crescents. “I’m good.”

And the door is shut. 

✧ Fortunately, you’ve managed to fall asleep in the middle of the practise room before on countless occasions; tuning the heavy thumping comes easy after a while when you’re exhausted and practically dead on your feet. The problem is during the day—doing your assigned reading and writing up results from practical work comes much harder when you’re constantly accompanied by the rhythmic percussion of a madman who favours metal. It gets so rowdy that you seriously consider whether he’s part of the Stellaron Hunters and knows you’re a Trailblazer—it would make sense, after all, if he was just feeling extra spiteful. However, from the trembling students claiming to be his previous roommates, this is just common treatment: him basically telling them to beat it and never return.  ✧ Two can play at that game. Upon complaining to Kafka of his (rage-inducing) musical tendencies, she suggests that you get back at him with your electric guitar. Don’t ask her how she knows, no she’s not trying to instigate and watch the chaos—Kafka attempts to reassure you. You don’t trust the shady writer one bit, but both Data Analysis major Dan Heng and Environmental Studies student March 7th give the plan the go ahead. If you’re not mistaken, you can hear a touch of personal grief in the normally composed Dan Heng’s voice—something so poignantly irritated you wonder what the story between them is.  ✧ Contrary to his nonchalant attitude, it’s clear he’s annoyed by the loud chords that buzz through the apartment. As soon as he picks up his drumsticks, you plug the guitar to the amps and thoroughly mess with him. You know enough from Caelus’ repertoire to place each genre of music Blade starts to play (which is limited to metal). No problem—you play various styles that decidedly aren’t metal and are so discordant with his own tempo you can’t help but keep a grin on your lips. He’s much too stubborn to knock on your door, but the irritated twitch of his eyes in the kitchen belies just how aggravating this is. And when you know he’s scrawling down notes for his classes, that’s when you’re practising your metal riffs and playing around with the fretboard. If you’re feeling particularly nice, you’ll play along to some darkwave gothic music—something relatively more calm—but these occasions are few and far between. 

Chromatic eyes pierce your back while you deftly chop vegetables for your dinner. Really, now’s the best time to do work: when you’re busy with cooking and not insistent on plaguing him with jarring melodies. For someone so logical when it comes to his meticulous classwork, he sure doesn’t seem it as he leans against the counter on the other side of the kitchen—sipping water and just staring at you while you Julienne an onion. 

You shoot him a withering glance as you toss the slices into a bowl on the side, and he glares at you with a matched fervour. If it weren’t for the fact that you literally don’t have anywhere else to go—Caelus doesn’t even have a couch for you to sleep on—you’d have moved out a long time ago. 

It’s a rustic space: sage green cabinets filled with charming, mismatched plates and cups; glossy white counters that house various herbs and the occasional plant; a lacquered table in the middle that has a vase holding a singular dried flower. An orange lily—still retaining a vibrancy that conceals just how long it’s been there. You wouldn’t have expected this style of decor from him, but at the same time, you doubt it’s his influence so much as Kafka’s. 

“Do you have a problem?” you probe icily, turning back to where you’re slicing a carrot into thin matchsticks; if there was a god somewhere, you’d hope it could transfigure the man behind you into the root vegetable you’re enthusiastically chopping. 

“No.” And when he speaks again, he’s right behind you. There’s a sink to your left, but he’s much too close as his breath ghosts over the nape of your neck. Affronted, you turn around; only to watch as his eyes widen minutely, glass of water slipping out of his grasp and spilling down your front. 

“You dickhead.” Your hands angrily grab at his collar—unheeding or perhaps uncaring of his reputation for violence as you feel the cold seep into your skin. You’re seething; for someone with such good reflexes, this is a new level of low in attempting to chase you out. Or perhaps it’s revenge for finally getting under his skin. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

It’s a little too late when you realise the position you’re in: skin showing through the translucent material, breathing shallow from your infuriation, face glaring right up at his. 

“Sorry.” His voice rings out insincere—and there’s that damn faint smile still toying at his face as he looks directly at you with that heavy gaze. “My hand slipped.”

You shove him back, too disgusted to acknowledge him any further. Maybe if you turned back around, you’d see the tiniest pricks of red on his face as you tossed your soaked shirt into the washing machine—leaving you in a damp vest while you continued cooking for yourself. Maybe if you looked back at least once, you’d see the amusement in his eyes as you maul the bok choy on the cutting board. 

Those are maybes.

There’s particular things you know for certain. One, you despise him and his existence. Two, he abhors you and your entire being—because why else would he be so insistent in making you leave out of your own volition?

✧ It’s the time of year that you hate: joint engineering classes so you can cover the materials aspect for your physics studies. Well, it’s not like you hated it from the very beginning—you’ve hated it ever since you realised that once again, you’d have to be in the incorrigible presence of Blade. While he did finally install some soundproofing in his room, he’s taken it upon himself to linger wherever you’re present. Typing up your notes on the deep maroon couch with a mug of lavender tea perched on the coffee table? He’s in the window seat, looking over a thick reference manual for tensile strengths. Going to meet bassist Dan Heng so the two of you can play around with various lines for your next song? He’s at the convenience store you briefly stop at, gazing at you before he glares at your friend. Practising a slow solo in the living room (it’s really got the best ambience)? He’s tapping out a beat that you can very faintly now hear—one that surprisingly goes with the electrifying chords.  ✧ Point is, you’re ignoring him and his presence—while he’s inching ever closer. It comes to a head at the lecture hall; you decide to sit in the third row, since it’s both far from the back (where he usually frequents) and it doesn’t make you look like a beg. When you glance at his predestined seat, it’s empty—unsurprisingly as he’s there usually a minute before the professor—while the seat next to him is taken by a girl you’ve seen before. Despite his horrible personality and the (probably true) rumours surrounding him, there’s a few stragglers who genuinely want him. And you genuinely want those people to seek help because it’s clear something went wrong in their lives for them to be thirsting over a man who looks like he eats cigarettes for breakfast.  ✧ He comes in late, as you expect, but you freeze as he places his bag down next to you. Aghast, you can’t help but stare; yet for once he’s not meeting your eyes, and it’s far too late to make a scene and move elsewhere—not when the professor’s just arrived and is keen to start the lecture for materials. He doesn’t talk much, but you’re so distracted by his presence pressing slightly into your sides that you forget that today the professor’s deciding on the pairs for your projects—mouth agape, you stare in shock as she assigns them based on who’s sitting nearby. To be generous, she says, yet there’s nothing generous about this arrangement as his mocking eyes meet yours. He knew, you seethe, storming out of the hall right as the class wraps up. 

“I hate him.” Your molars grind bone-against-bone as you harshly press angry chords into the fretboard. “I hate him so so so so much.”

“Who are you talking about?” March 7th—in charge of the synthesiser—glances first at the bassist to your side, then back at you. Her eyes are wide in sympathy, yet it’s useless in the face of your despair. 

“Blade.” Poetically, the word is accompanied by the deep twang of Smoke on the Water as your fingers move mindlessly on your precious baby. What, your roommate?—she queries. No, a pet fish—Caelus responds, but you tune them both out. 

“He knew the professor would assign groups like that,” you groan. “That’s why he sat next to me.”

“He’s definitely trying to get you to leave his apartment out of your own will,” Dan Heng’s smooth cadence is somewhat soothing—and his conjecture is one you’ve come to yourself—but the accompanying baseline he’s playing to the song makes his theory sound comical. “But he won’t screw up his own project like that.”

You sigh, and the melody falls apart as you bring it to a grinding halt. 

“Believe me, I know just how much he values his projects.” Your head throbs upon thinking about that poor girl sobbing, and the bassist coughs to stifle a laugh. 

“What did he say that one time? ‘Your vapid idea would be better used on death row than as a functioning building’,” Stelle—the vocalist and also the only Psychology major you know who doesn’t unnervingly stare at you—imitates the deep reverberations of his voice, and you’re astonished at how it’s recalled verbatim (down to the exact adjective).

“I’m surprised it got round that far,” you suppress a smile—after all, it’ll be your head on the chopping block next. “You should’ve gone into theatre like Caelus did.” 

What a waste of talent, you shake your head mock-ruefully, which quickly turns to true woe as you realise just the predicament you’re in. 

✧ It’s not a complicated assignment. Well, it shouldn’t be: designing a sound structure based on the whims of the architectural class (whom you loathe); except that Blade is notorious for being a severe critic for civil engineering partnerships—like seriously, out of all hills to die on and it’s civil engineering. You begrudgingly create a new contact for him in your phone; a digital space just for him, which almost makes you throw up at the thought.

(+2 unread messages) <Dickhead> (new contact) 10:11 > library.  10:11 > east block, 20 minutes.

You stare incredulously at the chat, which is neither phrased as a question nor a request but an encrypted demand. The fuck? Infuriated, you take the break between your reps now rather than later, swilling down water while you irritably type out a reply. 

No can do. < 10:15 I’m busy. < 10:16

The reply comes less than a minute later; three dots animating themselves into existence while you wipe the sweat off your face with a towel. This prick. Well, it’s not so much a reply as an acknowledgement of your words—because he doesn’t reply, but rather your phone starts buzzing and you fumble while looking at the expletive lit up brightly on the screen. 

You’re sorely, sorely tempted to press the red receiver on the device. 

“What do you want?” you scowl, and you hope it translates through your voice that you’re revolted by his mere radio presence. 

“Where are you?” He ignores your question; voice vibrating low through your headphones, and you can’t help but shiver, just a little. Even through the thick towel, you can still feel crescents being formed in your palm from your nails—you sincerely wish you were throttling him instead. 

“None of your business.” 

There’s a budding migraine blossoming to life in your temple as you finally hang up. You think that’s the end of it—after all, it was literally yesterday that the groups were assigned. 

But when you shoulder the gym door open—skin still damp and warm from your shower, clean clothes sticking ever so slightly to laved skin—there’s a sleek car parked outside, and you frown when Blade opens the driver’s door. 

“I’m going to report you for stalking,” you grit out, pressing your body to the cool glass of the building. “How the fuck did you know where I was?”

“Kafka,” he replies simply, and of course, that crazy woman was the one who viewed your private story and sent it to him. “I’m picking you up.”

“No you’re not.” Seriously, he thinks you’re that easy to convince—

“I’ll shut the fuck up with the drums for these two weeks.” 

It’s almost miraculous how quickly you slide into the passenger seat. 

✧ You’ve never been in such close proximity to him before (if you don’t count that day in the kitchen). At least, voluntarily. When you close your eyes and lean back against the headrest, you can smell the faint, woody scent of his cologne. It’s different from the putrid tide of Axe the average engineering student drowns themself in—rather, it’s got the deep undertone of oud and something sweeter. You don’t expect it; maybe if he smelled like first impressions, he’d stink of blood and a dumpster fire.  ✧ Don’t fall asleep—he remarks, and you can feel his eyes on you briefly. Eyes on the road, prick—you retort, but your own lids are still tightly shut. Therefore, you don’t see how his gaze traces the remaining water droplets from your shower: how his hands linger on his gear stick so he can feel the emanating warmth from your damp thigh.  ✧ He freezes. Gross. He doesn’t like anyone, and only tolerates the rest of the Stellaron Hunters since they’ve seen him at his lowest and yet still find ways to bug him. And you. He wasn’t expecting you to last as long as you have. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to irritate him in your own way, and actually manage to aggravate him enough to force him into soundproofing his room. Actually, he still doesn’t know why you did that. He doesn’t know why his heart picked up slightly at the sight of you in that soaked shirt. And in the end, he still doesn’t entirely know why he chose to sit next to you for that lecture instead. It’s to annoy you, he decides. No point in deliberating too much about it.  ✧ It’s surprising that the two of you don’t immediately argue over the project; some eco-facility for sports that surprisingly was chosen unanimously by the pair of you. Eyes flitting to each other and back, it was a miracle you both had the same idea somehow. And it’s surprising when despite your lack of experience in civil engineering like this (you usually opt for mechanical on projects like these), you carefully consider the missing parts in his outlines—security cameras, sound systems, and tiny edits to the structure to really amplify the architecture.  ✧ He doesn’t mind your presence. That’s what shocks him. As you doze off with your head pressed into the crooks of your elbows, he doesn’t reprimand you like he would with anyone else. Instead, he places the material reference guide down and stops considering cement foundations. Before he gets the chance to poke your forehead, your phone buzzes against the table—lighting up with a name he didn’t think he’d see.  ✧ Dan Heng. He knows you’re friends with the guy, but there’s a burning sensation as his eyes watch the pop-up turn into another message, then another. What does he want? In real time, there’s a particular irritation that blossoms with each new notification. 

<Dan Heng> 20:19 > Are you still up? 20:19 > My roommate’s going to move in with his girlfriend, so you’ll be able to…

The message is cut off, but Blade isn’t stupid. He knows exactly what the implication suggests, and there’s a certain coolness in his eyes as he stares the message down. Isn’t this what he wanted? Yes, this is precisely the ending he hoped for: you moving out and him getting his space back to himself. 

But the issue stems from Dan Heng. He can’t have that. He can’t have you moving in with that man of all people. Anyone else would be fine, he insists to himself. 

Dan Heng. Dan Heng. Dan Heng. 

There’s a certain hypothesis he’d like to test. With your guard down like this, he snaps a photo of you with the drool leaking onto your sleeve—sending it directly to you. Just like clockwork, your phone lights up once more with a message. It’s not ‘Blade’ that’s texting you. 

<Dickhead> 20:20 > [photo.jpeg attached]

He grits his teeth, clutching his textbook until his fingers ache from the strain. No, he won’t give that bastard the satisfaction of taking his roommate like this. 

He’ll play nice. When you find someone who works this efficiently with you, while managing to hold their ground under his intimidating gaze, it’s hard not to want them to not scurry away. 

Eat shit, Dan Heng.

✧ Somehow, mercifully, you manage to complete the project with that weirdo. It’s strange—he’s surprisingly more cordial than ever. And with his inky hair pulled into a loose bun, glasses perched on his straight nose—it’s hard to imagine he’d ever made that poor girl cry in front of everyone like that, but you’d witnessed it yourself. So with a sigh, you remind yourself that he’s just as much of an asshole as the rumours say. But, staring at him so relaxed like this, these two different Blades are hard to ever merge.

“Something on my face?” He’s still writing with his glasses sliding down his nose. He sounds irritated, as per usual, but the tiny smirk painting his face lets you know that no he’s not irritated, he’s just being an arse just as always. 

“Yeah, pen,” you mutter, looking away as he finally glances up at you. When you glance back at the desk where your laptop precariously shows the still-unfinished presentation slides, he’s gazing up at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. 

It almost puts to rest the image of a dickhead. 

“There’s no pen, though,” he purrs, voice low while he rests the manual back on the table. “I’ve been reading all morning.”

Nevermind—he’s as much of an asshole as he regularly is. 

“Who knows,” you comment offhandedly, slowly sliding a blue biro your way as soon as he looks back down. There—you attempt to inch forward to draw on his face, but he catches your wrist from across the table between you. 

You freeze. Shit, you screwed up. With how relaxed he is, it’s getting easier and easier to forget the rumours of his bruised knuckles that follow him like a shroud. His eyes glance coolly at you, then at the incriminating weapon within your fingers. 

“What are you doing?” Maybe he’s the questions first, beat up later kind. 

“Getting revenge.” Shameless, you think, but definitely not as shameless as getting told to effectively shut up with the drums yet having the audacity to keep going louder. 

His lips part, and your eyes nearly stray to the pink colour of them. Then, he smiles—something so cynical and disturbing you can’t help but shiver and twist your arm out of his hold, all so you can watch him askance. 

“I can see why people find you scary,” you shudder, tapping your biro on a square notepad. 

“And you don’t?” An innocuous question, but one that almost sounds accusatory. 

“Nah,” you make a disgusted noise, like you’re trying to suppress vomit. “You’re just a prick.”

In the end, that same prick ends up rolling his sleeves upon your request so you can litter blue ink upon his forearms. With how pale he is, it resembles delicate ceramics painted with cerulean landscapes. And while you do include etched illustrations and swirling designs, you make sure to include several phalluses dotted around—just so he lives up to his contact name. 

“Wow,” he remarks sardonically. “Maybe you should quit physics and join the liberal arts programme.”

You ignore him, taking a few shots of your handiwork and sending them to Kafka, captioned I feel like this truly reflects his personality and making sure all the tiny dicks are in full focus. 

“Maybe I should,” you shrug. “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with you, at least.”

“Likewise,” he responds, but it’s not as satisfying to think about you quitting as he thought it would be. 

It’s stupid. He finds that he doesn’t want the ink to wash from his arms, not so soon. 

When you log into your account to touch-up the presentation, you spot the comment he left back in the library on the presentation slides—timestamped to the exact twenty past five. 

17:20 > Maybe if you stopped staring at me, we’d be done sooner. 

It’s the longest sentence he’s ever typed out to you—but that’s exactly what makes it so galling. 

go fuck yourself < 22:31

22:31 > ooh you want me so bad aha

You pause, staring incredulously at the text, then to where the bathroom’s situated. The water’s definitely running.

… < 22:32 damn this idiot’s really getting scammed and hacked < 22:33 crazy < 22:33 [feynman’s twin] sent laughing emoji < 22:33

22:33 > on the daily lmao 22:34 > same two old man passwords for everything

Types like one too < 22:34

22:35 > right?? 22:36 > we should be friends btw 22:36 > [Blade.] sent contact silver-W

Dang he really put a period after than name too < 22:37

22:37 > top ten edgelords 22:37 > [Blade.] sent laughing emoji

[feynman’s twin] sent laughing emoji < 22:37

It’s not until the morning when he’s looking over the (surprisingly well-done) slides that he finally notices the string of (highly unprofessional) messages that he definitely did not write. 

His head throbs and his eye twitches as he reads through them—burning holes through the wall separating him and you. He hopes you receive the subliminal nightmares he’s so graciously sending you. 

It’s a fiercely deliberated decision. With a heavy heart, he finally presses [backspace] on the typo next to his nickname. 

He only hopes you won’t notice. 

(Silver Wolf notices—immediately screenshotting the new handle [Blade] and sending it to you.)

✧ Good things come in threes. Getting through this project, not getting beat up by that nerd, and getting through the presentation smoothly. By that, you mean you do most of the speaking while Blade clicks through the slides. However, contrary to all expectations, his voice comes low and rich—neither stumbling through the knowledge nor forgetting the important parts. It’s so shocking you can’t help but stare at him; something he definitely notices, judging by the self-important smirk he sends you.  ✧ Perhaps a little too good. The pair of you leave the lecture hall separately—after all, it’s not like you want to be in his presence any longer, and he doesn’t particularly want to be in yours either. But you do want the sweet energy drink that’s been chilling in the shared fridge for the past few days: as tantalising as the very nectar of the gods.  ✧ It’s when you enter an alleyway shortcut that you witness her—your old roommate. Vaguely, you recall she used to have a crush on Blade (a match made in heaven if there ever was one); perhaps that’s why she’s inching towards you with a pipe that is tetanus’ wet dream—so grimy you think you’ll immediately die if you’re struck by it.  ✧ All this over him?—you think with disgust as you try back out of the alleyway, only to collide with the towering body of her boyfriend: some guy unfortunate enough to be entrapped by her pretty face and definitely not her personality. She doesn’t want you, and he (aforementioned: Blade) doesn’t want her either. It’s rather tragic, but woefully you can’t spare any pity for them: not when you’re about to get beat and for what? A successful presentation with Blade?  ✧ They’re amateurish enough that you manage to evade them for a minute, but the alleyway’s too narrow to slip past them, and you’ve never been in a fight like this.  ✧ You’re cornered when he appears: some twisted knight he is.

“You’re late,” you heave, bruises on your knuckles and that man’s face. 

“You…” Blade trails off as he sees the blood spatters on your clothes, and his expression twists into one he’s glad you can’t see—not when his broad shoulders face you in an impenetrable wall. The two idiots—Tweedledee and Tweedledum, judging by how disturbingly gullible they are—stiffen immediately upon his timely arrival. 

He’ll handle it like he always does. 

But it’s certainly strange. Why does he feel so much angrier than he does normally?

✧ It’s late afternoon: dusk barely kissing the rooftops of the city, stars just about peeking from the violet firmament. You didn’t ask questions when he made enough space for you to slip out the alleyway: heart lodged in your throat as you quietly sat down at the local café with blossoming pain in your ribs and fists. Stupid, you were stupid to think that crazed girl would ever leave you alone.  ✧ Maybe it’s counterintuitive to feel safe when he steps into the small building. He smells faintly of blood: a terrible, metallic odour spilling onto his clothes and flesh. But beneath that, there’s a lingering scent of that woody oud—you can’t help but sink into it.  ✧ They won’t bother you ever again—he murmurs as the door jingles behind both of you. You didn’t kill them, did you?—you mutter back, half-sarcastically. No, but it probably hurt quite a bit for them—he shrugs. “Let’s go home.” ✧ Home. He says that, but there’s still that offer from Dan Heng to move in with him—one you’ll probably accept. Blade may have saved you, but he’s still a dickhead who has made numerous attempts to kick you out. 

“Ow, fuck,” you hiss as he dabs antiseptic on the various cuts on your hand. It’s well into the evening now, and you’re currently sitting on the bathroom counter with your injuries on full display. 

So infuriating. You glare at the man standing in between your legs—unscathed completely. Worst of all, there’s a smug smile on his lips; whatever worry he might have had over you has completely dissipated. 

“You couldn’t let them hit you once?”

“Bitter much?” he returns easily, swabbing another cotton ball with alcohol and pressing it against the large cut on the side of your forearm. It stings, but you grit your teeth and bear it—much too annoyed with him to show any more pain. 

In this position, the resentment you feel towards him turns faint; a veil seems to obscure the burning sensation. 

“You talk too much,” you seethe. “What happened to the prick who kept his mouth shut and ignored me?”

Tendrils of his jet-hued hair brush your cheek as he inches forward. “If you like, we can go right back to that—playing at my whim included.”

He hasn’t felt like this in years—back when he was still a boy named Yingxing and unmarred by the burdens life would eventually place on his shoulders. 

“Let me do it myself,” you argue back. 

“Nah.” Silver Wolf will pay for calling him an old man. “You won’t do it properly.” 

Another brief kiss from the alcohol against your bloody knuckles, and this time you can’t hide the slight wince on your face. It takes quite a lot of self-restraint to not dent the tweezers—he should’ve done so much worse to the two who tried this, besides beating the shit out of them and getting Kafka to land them behind bars. 

“That rod probably had tetanus on it,” he shrugs, rummaging around in his disused first-aid kit for plasters and bandages.

“Yeah, I thought that too,” you shudder. It's this moment of casual, same line thinking that strikes you as being far too strange. He's so close you can feel each puff of air when he exhales: practically scalding the bare skin stretched over collarbones. Too close—and if he keeps talking like this, as if he’s no longer disgusted by your presence, you won’t be able to deal with it. 

“What’d you do to her?” he questions, but it’s not the ‘no wonder she attacked you’ tone—rather than that, it’s like he’s trying to prompt you into distraction. 

“This is actually your fault,” you scowl, irritably casting your mind back to when she used to talk your ear off about the man standing here. 

“How so?” Nonplussed, he starts rolling the bandage across your arm—evidently, he’s experienced with this sort of thing. 

Stalker roommate. Stalker roommate has crush on engineering maniac. Stalker roommate sees that your new roommate and engineering maniac are one and the same—you summarise, too tired to give the specifics. He sees the way your lids flutter closed from exhaustion; for once, he’ll use Kafka to get more of the information you omitted. 

“Honestly, you two freaks would be perfect for each other,” you murmur absentmindedly. At that, he pulls the bandage tighter against your skin and you draw in a pained inhale. 

“You should try stand-up.” His voice is thick with revulsion, and it’s quiet for a few brief moments as he gets started on patching up the scrapes left on your back. You’re sitting on a stool now: unable to see his face but awfully mindful of how his hands brush over the skin layered over your scapula. 

“You still haven’t thanked me.”

“Thank you, my aggravating saviour,” you say, much too insincerely. “But that reminds me that I’ve got good news for you. That should suffice as a symbol of my gratitude.”

What is it?

“One of my friends has a room free, so I’ll probably be able to move out soon.”

The worst part is, he knows exactly who this friend is. His hands freeze on the band-aid he’s smoothing on your skin; too absorbed in his murderous thoughts to notice how you stiffen at the prolonged gesture. He’s not jealous; these are merely stirrings of friendship—this ugly, amorphous thing writhing in his gut and condemning him to senseless anger. 

“That’s not good news,” he breathes, and it’s a little too quiet as he finishes wrapping the final bandage around your bruised ribs. 

For the first time ever, Kafka receives a text from Blade that doesn’t consist of just one word. 

<Bladie> 20:33 > I need advice. 

Oh, this is interesting. 

What are friends for?—she coos, making sure to show Silver Wolf the glaring achievement in Blade’s range of text vocabulary. 

He’s clearly been on the rear end of bad news; while for her, on the contrary, this just means her scheme is moving along very nicely.  

[lovefrombegonia]

Whenever I read about Yuder using his awakener powers, I think of him fighting like Aang from ATLA or Sypha from the Netflix Castlevania series. Their powers visually are quite similar with them using all the elements. At least, that's what comes to my mind when I hear "can manipulate all natural elements". But it's not the same. I have a bit of trouble visualising how Yuder would look. Sypha is a mage and Aang is a bender. From what I have read until now from the novel, Awakener's powers are very much driven by simple will and instinct. So, for Yuder, especially, after being a commander for almost a decade at a time when his powers were used extensively, as he himself says it's more like being a commander for 20 years experience wise, the use of his powers would be more like using his hands and legs.

Sypha's movements look fluid and effortless but still very mage like. She is using magic she learnt. Aang's is very choreographed too. Obviously, the moves are based on real martial arts.

Disclaimer: In no way am I saying that these two are more or less powerful than Yuder. Just to be clear. This is strictly, a visual thing.

With Yuder Aile, I feel like his movements must look less choreographed and very natural. Like when you allow a skilled dancer to go free style with her favourite music that she listens to every day. Not just effortless, but also almost like muscle memory, or like instinct. Still, I can't think of a visual reference. In the manhwa, his movements are very simple, his just like 🫳🏻🫴🏻✨ and boom! Which does make sense, he has done it over a hundred times. Why would it look like these feats would take effort.

Still, I am eager to see more dynamic movements from him. With the future chapters being more action packed, when he fights the star of Nagran or the western region monsters. When he will unleash his inner "Yudrain", being so fierce that the enemies almost think of him like a scary demon LOL

I also wonder what his wind-water protection shield SOUNDS like? It's said that the shield he creates is so powerful, it can strip skin and flesh from bones if you try to touch it. So, the shield is more like a force field. It should sound like strong stormy winds you hear at night, the sound that enters your room in a thunderstorm through the slight openings of closed windows, almost sounding like a whistle. When creates minor earthquake, his hands shouldn't tremble much but would look like how we move our hand when listening to slow music that we like. But when trying to cut down a whole cliff, like when fighting pethuamet, would it look like he is trying to push down an invisible floor into the ground? Would his hands grab the air like he is actually able to feel the ground from a distance and then feel incredible physical strain when pushing down?

When he is running with the help of wind helping him speed up, what would that look like? Like he is skating in the air, perhaps. Or will he looks like just how we see speedsters run in comic book films. And when he jumps high with the wind, I imagine he would like the martial artists in Wuxian cdramas, jumping and gliding across the bamboo trees. Similar to the characters in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. I really can't wait to see him flying into Kishiar's open arms in the Tainu arc *sighs dreamily*

One of my most anticipated uses of Yuder's powers is definitely when he will use it to see Kishiar's different powers surging through his body and enveloping him. It's gonna look so beautiful but the description in the novel was also weirdly ominous. Like the anatomically precise diagram of muscles in the human body. Red, gold, and blue swirls flowing through someone he loves with knots present in various parts, like a blocked artery. Can't wait to see what it all looks like in the manhwa!

Now, imagine if this ever gets animated?? Damn. I will ascend to heavens if that happens!

[ophernelia]

Imogen Sumner

Age: 19

Birthday: June 22nd

Hometown: Oasis Springs

Species: Human

Sexuality: Demisexual

Current Status: Alive

Partner(s): Lou Howell

Originally from Skyward Palms, Oasis Springs, Imogen Sumner is the only child to Dallas and Cale. Imogen spent most of her time alone growing up in Oasis Springs. Though she had the occasional company of her cousins, Imogen struggled to make friends in school and was often viciously bullied and ostracized by her peers. Often returning home with cuts, scrapes, dirt or dried blood on her. Though Imogen would typically silent in school, she was often targeted by her peers. They found her unsettling, odd, and monotoned. This mistreatment would often continue throughout the summer whenever Imogen would go to camp. Ultimately, Cale and Dallas opted to take more family tips instead. However, during a summer trip to visit her grandmother Hattie in Copperdale, Imogen met her soon-to-be lifelong bestfriend Lou. For the three months the Sumner’s would visit Copperdale every summer, Imogen spent all her days with Lou. Though she was still quite shy and quiet, Lou adored her company and she adored his. The two remained in touch throughout the year. Often talking every single day for hours upon end. During her teenage years her grandmother fell sick and came to stay with her family in Oasis Springs temporarily. However, the temporary stay became permanent and soon-enough Hattie passed. During that time Imogen lost touch with Lou and was forced to deal with her grief alone. Only speaking to him sparingly that summer, it put a bit of strain on their friendship. After the passing of her grandmother, Imogen's family moved to Copperdale and stayed in her grandmother's home. She and Lou reconnected upon her move to the city. Navigating an entire new social scene her senior year of high school was no easy feat, but at least she would have the company of Lou.

Fun Facts:

Imogen is musically gifted. An exceptional pianist and guitar player, with a heavenly set of pipes to match.

Imogen has a deep love for books and plants.

Imogen is the third youngest of the entire Brice clan.

Imogen is very monotoned. She likes to think of herself as a black Wednesday Addams.

Imogen has a deep love for the Twilight series. She would have chosen Jacob over Edward.

Imogen is professionally trained in martial arts.

Imogen's theme song is I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket.

[tinywitchgoblin]

Heya!

If you are still doing ship requests I would love to participate.

I'm a 24 year old female who has a degree in film focusing on producing and currently work as a medical receptionist.

I am someone who is a bit more on the shyer and friendly side when I first meet people, but when I open up I am sarcastic, talkative, incredibly loyal and even become the mom friend, it does also take a lot for me to trust someone. I am an ENFJ, Ravenclaw (With Slytherin and Hufflepuff as a close second), I would also be a Daughter of Athena.

My hobbies include, Reading (Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Mythology, dystopian, etc.), Writing, Ice Skating, Martial Arts, D&D, Playing Video Games and Graphic Design (More so Image Manipulation), on a rare occasion photography and listening to music (wide variety of music but mainly Kpop, Rock, R&B, Alternative and Pop.)

I am 5ft 3in, and more plus sized. I have just past shoudler length red and orange hair, icy blue eyes and wear glasses when I can so my eyes don't strain. My style is a bit all over the place as I usually only wear shorts, a tshirt of a fandom I love or it would be a nice stylish shirt with heeled boots. Or I would get fully dressed up. But heeled boots are the main thing I would wear as well as a lot of jewellery.

I am so excited to see who you would match me with!! And I hope you have a wonderful day!! 💜💜

Of course, you too! 💜💜

I ship you with...

Echo!

Considering that Echo is also a Mom Friend(tm), you and he got along pretty well from the start. He loves your caring but sarcastic personality, and he couldn't help but fall for you. Once you open up to him, he sees aspects of your personality that remind him of Fives, and he only wished you would've been able to meet him.

One of Echo's favorite things to do with you is train. Having had ARC trooper training, he's quite skilled in martial arts, so he really enjoys sparring with you (if you're open to it, of course). He's especially proud when you get a hit in, or even knock him flat on his back. That's his girl right there.

Echo loves learning about all of the types of art you partake in. From filmmaking, to graphic design, to photography, to your sense of fashion, he's all over it. He'd never really been given the opportunity to express his creative side (he din't even know he had one until he met you), so being able to learn about so many art forms is new and exciting for him. Echo especially loves when you involve him in your art, because it's his favorite way of you showing him that you love him.

-

Thanks for reading! If you want a ship request like this one, drop it in my ask box, and don't forget to reblog 💚

[mystalwartheart]

name. Jill Valentine

nickname(s). Jillybean, JV, Val, Regina, The Master of Unlocking

title. Branch Captain, Special Tactics and Rescue Service Los Angeles-Pacific and Senior Field Agent, Bioterrorism Task Force

P E R S O N A L .

morality. lawful/ neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil

religious belief. Private, like a lot of Jill's personal life. She is either mixed or part of a diaspora though, so her spiritual beliefs likely reflect that blending of cultures.

sins. lust  / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride /envy/ wrath

virtues. chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience/ justice

primary goals in life. To be the best person she can for the people in her life, and to "protect and serve" where possible. She hopes to play some small part in building a better world for the Year 2000 and beyond.

languages known. English, Tahitian, German (fluent), Korean, Spanish, Dutch (some). Do please note her mun is not fluent in all these languages XD

quirks. - She's a young woman from Los Angeles. It's the 1980s. Do the math XD If you see this side of her, it means she trusts and feels comfortable around you.

savvies. - Physical strength, agility, martial arts, military tactics, operational strategy, criminology, leadership, navigation, maritime and civil engineering, stealth, the ability to sustain deep cover, lockpicking, explosive ordinance disposal, combat diving, classical piano, surfing, skateboarding, snowboarding, cooking, singing

P H Y S I C A L .

build. slender/ fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese / other

height. 172 cm (5 ft 8 in)

weight. 56 kg (123 lb)

scars/birthmarks. None to speak of.

abilities/powers. - Natural immunity to mutagenic viral strains such as the Clay Progenitor Virus and its descendants.

F A V O U R I T E S .

favourite food. Honestly? Probably hamburgers: They're fast, compact and filling. Hinano is right up the street from her, and In-n-Out is all over the city.

favourite drink. Smoothies!

topping. Your basic pepperoni.

favourite colour. Blue

favourite music genre. You'll most likely catch her listening to pop, but Jill is an ex-rock groupie from LA and her sis is in a punk/chamber pop revival band. She has harder stuff in her library, and don't forget this is also the era where there's a lot of overlap between those genres.

favourite book genre. Literary fiction

favourite movie genre. Anything lighthearted or thought-provoking. Jill doesn't like being reminded of work off the clock, so nothing super dramatic or angsty.

favourite season. Summer

favourite curse word. "Damn" or "Shit"

favourite scent. Giorgio Beverly Hills

F U N S T U F F .

bottom or top. Top as a general rule, unless you're really special to her.

loud burper or soft burper. Uh, you won't hear anything because that's uncouth and not ladylike??

sings in the shower. yes /no

likes bad puns. yes / no - More like tolerates. You'll get an exasperated groan, but she'll still probably smile at least a little.

their opinion on the mun. "She cares a lot, is very loyal and dedicated but she works too much. She needs to take care of herself and rest more. We're alike in that way."

Tagged by @red-man-of-mustache

Tagging: Anyone who wants to!

[armadillo1976]

Things I had to look up in Ted Lasso S3E02

…or didn’t have to look up, as the case may be: the very moment Beard showed Ted the YouTube video, my husband and co-watcher said, ‘Ohh, so he’s Zlatan Ibrahimović,’ saving me a search. Ibrahimović is a Swedish star footballer who plays for AC Milan (so in Italy, which will come up again in a sec). Ibrahimović actually speaks about himself in the third person, is famous for his over the top behaviour, and is an impressive martial artist

In the show, Zava is said to be leaving Juventus – a club in Italy! Which Ted doesn’t know. It strains credulity a bit, even for Ted, not to know it, but serves as a springboard for Ted to come up with “Cacio later, Pepe,” a play on cacio e pepe, a deservedly popular Roman pasta dish (and now I miss Rome)

Ted starts to say “Good morning Viet-“ when he’s interrupted, which is a reference to Good Morning, Vietnam that I’m pretty sure everyone would recognize in their sleep, but I blanked on when the film was actually made so I checked quickly; it’s 1987; somehow it feels like it should be older (Vietnam War ended 1975-ish)

I had no idea but apparently 11:11 (“or 23:11 if I’m at a military base or Euro Disney”) is a wishing time, i.e. a magical/ lucky time of day. Ted and Beard and Dani sharing a superstition is very nice and cosy. Ted only ever apparently leaving the UK for Europe in order to visit Euro Disney is depressing but, hey, horses for courses I guess

“What’s it like being the boss of your own Keeley Street Band?,” Ted asks Keeley. It’s (I think?) a play on The E Street Band, Bruce Springsteen’s backing band

Ted follows it up with Clamato Clamato (said like tomayto tomahto), which I’d never heard of, but this is very funny! Clamato is a canned drink, a clam-flavoured tomato juice. Love this joke

Dani hasn’t been this nervous to play in front of someone since he was “in El Chapo’s youth league,” and I did know who El Chapo is (former Mexican drug lord) but I went to check if he ever ran a football league. Not formally, or at least not that I can find, but the cartels are massively intertwined with day-to-day life, so actually I don’t know how much of a joke it is (it’s not a joke to Dani, but to us/the audience? idk)

Fish Bowl, as the context suggests (but I had to check) is a drink/cocktail that I think it’s safe to say Roy Kent wouldn’t touch

The music in Ted Lasso is wonderful but I don’t know nearly enough to have opinions, with these two neat exceptions in this episode:

As Keeley’s photoshoot starts, the song playing in the club is Ready To Go by Republica (On the rooftop shouting / Baby I’m ready to go) – that was their only hit apparently, but what a hit it was. Interesting choice of a song here

I laughed at the soundtrack to Trent walking into the clubhouse to universal hostility: 'Cause he gets up in the morning / And he goes to work at nine / And he comes back home at five-thirty / Gets the same train every time (by the Kinks, and I knew that song, so yay me, but the Kinks are FAMOUS famous, right?). The rest of the lyrics go, for example, And he likes his own backyard / And he likes his fags the best / 'Cause he's better than the rest. Not reading too much into it, but it’s such a fun choice!

[for S3E01, my notes are here]

[talesofpassingtime]

‘Weber passes by us amid a romantic landscape, conducting the ballads of the dead amidst weeping willows and oaks with twisted branches. Schumann follows him, beneath the pale moonlight, along the shores of silvery lakes. And behold, here comes Rossini, incarnation of the musical gift, so gay, so natural, without the least concern for expression, caring nothing for the public, and who isn’t my man by a long way — ah! certainly not — but then, all the same, he astonishes one by his wealth of production, and the huge effects he derives from an accumulation of voices and an ever-swelling repetition of the same strain. These three led to Meyerbeer, a cunning fellow who profited by everything, introducing symphony into opera after Weber, and giving dramatic expression to the unconscious formulas of Rossini. Oh! the superb bursts of sound, the feudal pomp, the martial mysticism, the quivering of fantastic legends, the cry of passion ringing out through history! And such finds! — each instrument endowed with a personality, the dramatic recitatives accompanied symphoniously by the orchestra — the typical musical phrase on which an entire work is built! Ah! he was a great fellow — a very great fellow indeed!’

— Emile Zola, The Masterpiece

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 8, Number 12

Blood Incantation (but not Blood/Incantation)

Dusted closes out 2022 with blood and incantation.

Specifically, this Dust features two separate recordings with identical band names, one a split release by a pair of metal bands, one named Blood, the other Incantation, the other also metal but more atmospheric whose name is Blood Incantation. ��It’s a lot of blood. A lot of incantation.

But never fear if your tastes are less sanguinary. We’ve also got experimental klezmer, power pop, sound art, new weird traditionalism, synth pop, deep house, death metal and jazz both free and more traditional. This edition’s contributors include Bryon Hayes, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers, Patrick Masterson and Jim Marks.

Baltic Furs — Contemporary Ruin (Round Bale Recordings)

Contemporary Ruin by Baltic Furs

For its final release of 2022, the Minnesota-based Round Bale Recordings label offers a cassette from someone in its inner circle. Baltic Furs is the alter ego of Matt Irwin, a graphic designer whose optical artistry enswathes some of the label’s output. Irwin is a drummer-cum-synthesist whose aural hue leans toward the inky black end of the spectrum. On Contemporary Ruin, both Irwin’s percussionist origins and his tendency toward the inchoate are on display. Dreamlike, dimly lit images attempt to bring themselves into focus as warped, bell-shaped tones emanate from unholy objects. Irwin is signalling the coming of an impending disaster: it could be the end of the world or a demon emerging from its resting place. He’s happy to let the listener decide their fate. The latter half of the cassette begets emergent strains of melody that seem to brighten as the music runs its course. The tenderness is nascent and without form, but it’s also indicative that Contemporary Ruin is the first page in the next chapter of Irwin’s engaging narrative.

Bryon Hayes

 Black Ox Orkestar — Everything Returns (Constellation)

Everything Returns by Black Ox Orkestar

Even when it dances, klezmer has a melancholic air. It commemorates, after all, a Jewish-East European culture that flourished despite centuries of persecution until ending, abruptly, in the Holocaust. True, Jewish emigres brought this rollicking but wistful concoction of clarinet and fiddle, elegy and celebration, with them in the diaspora. It reached, even, the experimental precincts of Montreal, where members of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Thee Silver Mt. Zion formed Black Ox Orkestar in the early aughts, then left it fallow for a decade and a half. Everything Returns is their lovely (and timely) return, a pensive exploration of cross-cultural discourse that melds Jewish, gypsy, Arab and European traditions in bittersweet rumination. This is music made of shadows and sighs, but ready, nonetheless, for the fight. It’s opening salvo, “Tish Nign,” layers wordless vocals over piano, then gathers its strength in martial cadences of bass clarinet. “Skotshne” sparkles with cimbalom, a dulcimer-like instrument with a ghostly echo; it skitters over a skeletal foundation of drums and acoustic bass. But it’s “Viderkol” that stops you short, a dusky lament hedged in by the low hum of clarinet, a run of piano. Even sung in English, it has a foreign, historical aura, as the principals remember the lost with the gentlest, least bitter sort of sadness. “There’s something in us that could make us whole,” they sing, and maybe they mean music and remembering.

Jennifer Kelly

 Blood/Incantation — Split 7” (Hell’s Headbangers)

Not Blood Incantation, but Blood and Incantation (see what they did there?) collaborate on this divertingly atavistic split record. Blood Incantation seems to provide the newest front opened in the Hipster Metal Wars — and to be honest, this reviewer can’t really fault the offended (“ambient death metal?”). If anyone might have any sort of right to defend the traditional boundaries of the kingdom of Metal ov Death, the dudes in Blood might be able to claim it. The German band has been making records since 1986, and the two new tracks on this split record are still the same old moldy stuff, a grinding, guttural assault on good taste. Incantation is by contrast the fresher face, having only started releasing music 1990—but the band certainly has the bigger name. Their tune, “Quantum Firmament,” is also the more engaging side of the split. Whether you find this record to be more than a sort of scenester-snarky, vinyl-mediated pun may depend on the degree of your interest in Incantation’s music; if you dig the band, “Quantum Firmament” is worth hearing.

Jonathan Shaw 

 Blood Incantation — Timewave Zero (Century Media)

Denver death metal psychonauts Blood Incantation have never concealed their love of ambient, cosmische, new age synths, et al. They also were clear even before putting out their second record Hidden History of the Human Race that their third would be their own entry into those fields. A 40-minute, two-track EP, Timewave Zero has (based on comments) clearly come as an unpleasant surprise to a grouchy, vocal minority of their existing fanbase. but those more into avowed influence Klaus Schulze than blastbeats, death metal growls and intense riffs will find that Blood Incantation know what they’re doing. This isn’t just the quartet noodling around with some neat synth sounds; there’s pacing, sculpting and evidence of a compositional eye on both halves of the EP. Timewave Zero, then, is admirable on multiple fronts, both as a totally solid record and as evidence of a band determined to follow its muse even in the face of requests to keep making more of the same.

Ian Mathers 

 Dazy — OUTOFBODY (Lame-O)

OUTOFBODY by Dazy

Power pop is harder than it looks. It balances on a knife edge between crusty fuzz and open-hearted tunefulness, and it’s easily tipped towards noise or daffiness. But James Goodson, out of Richmond, gets the blend just about right, a bit to the sweet side of Teenage Fan Club, a bit more muscular than the Raspberries. Indeed, the buzzy, frictive “On My Way” sounds like the Dirtbombs crossed with James, which is to say gloriously clangorous but with its earnest heart showing. “Motionless Parade” swoons and jangles in the vein of True West and the Rain Parade, while “Choose Your Ramone” hilariously amps it up, with a blistering, squalling guitar solo that is neither Joey nor Johnny. Goodson may never be a big star (or a Big Star), but it’s fun watching him try.

Jennifer Kelly

 Bruno Duplant — Nox (Unfathomless)

nox by Bruno Duplant

Art reckons with life on Nox, which is one of the nine full-length recordings that the ultra-productive French sound artist has realized in 2022. The artist’s statement references observations, both recent and antique, of certain bad navigational habits of humans, to wit, they closely circle things that will scorch them. At least moths, who aren’t noted for their brain mass, have an excuse… But even if you aren’t acquainted with the musician’s intent, you’re likely to grasp this immersive, 40-minute-long piece’s intimations of decay. Gathered and generated sounds creak, crackle, and bob around the listener like the chunks of debris that swirled around your surfboard that one time you fell asleep on the beach at low tide and woke up in the middle of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

Bill Meyer

 Kelman Duran — “Loko” (self-released)

Kelman Duran is a low-key LA-based Dominican producer who’s made his name on art school dancehall and reggaeton edits, notably 2017’s excellent 1804 Kids. But “Loko” is another animal, blisteringly zooted deep house filth all taut and suspended in that leery-eyed fork in the road where the head says no and makes the good decision but the heart speaks louder, beats yes, makes an ellipsis for you to fill in. Adriana Roslin’s epileptic video (in which she appears, by the way) is the perfect accompaniment, exuding the self-assured swagger of a fashion school grad-turned-social media manager by day and club rat queen by night; you’ll see what I mean when you watch. It’s unclear if this is a brief diversion from his usual speed or a turn toward a more permanent 4/4 producing mode, but either way, Duran has left one of the best dance tracks of 2022 rather late in the going. How late? Consider: At the time I write this, Dust is scheduled to go live in about two hours; “Loko” has been up for less than 24. But we weren’t going to miss out. You shouldn’t, either.

Patrick Masterson

 Family Ravine — Jumpthefox (Round Bale Recordings)

Jumpthefox by Family Ravine

With his Family Ravine project, Kevin Cahill navigates a similar path to that of Henry Flynt, welding his avant-garde sensibility to traditional musical styles. Jumpthefox follows hot on the heels of Away & Instinct, and both records document Cahill’s polyglot approach to music making. The musician has created an Interzone-like fusion of American, British and European folk forms, which he has processed through his tireless creative instinct. Cahill builds a fluid-like loam from loops and fragments, which he layers repeatedly into a strange topography. Working primarily with stringed instruments and melodica, Cahill materializes his songs in a spectrum of shades, from shimmering and bright to muted and foreboding. It must be magical to hear his songs being crafted in real time, but we’ll have to settle for experiencing the finished product. This writer is certainly not complaining.

Bryon Hayes

  Hot Chip — Freakout/Release (Domino)

Consistent quality is a great asset for a band and a thrill for fans, but it can have the opposite of a silver lining for us music writers. Freakout/Release is another topnotch set of emotionally mature, sometimes melancholy synthpop bangers from the now sort-of-venerable Hot Chip (their eighth!). It’s not as if they’re not trying new things, heck here you actually hear a couple of guest vocalists (Lou Hayter on “Hard to Be Funky” and a blistering Cadence Weapon on “The Evil That Men Do”) and the title track is more rough-and-tumble than the Chip usually gets. “Down” rides a Universal Togetherness Band sample to dancefloor glory, while tracks like the hopeful “Broken” and the gossamer “Not Alone” show their more emotive strengths. It’s another great record in a career full of them, and if it’s hard to know what more to say, it feels unfair to them to leave it at that.

Ian Mathers

 Keefe Jackson / Jim Baker /Julian Kirschner — Routines (Kettlehole)

Routines by Keefe Jackson / Jim Baker / Julian Kirshner

Routines? I don’t know. On the one hand, the title might acknowledge that the three musicians on the album can, either together or separately, be counted upon to be heard in some small space that hosts Chicagoan improvisers, on a pretty routine basis. But the music itself is far from routine, unless you want to take a step back and acknowledge that each musician habitually figures out apposite responses to any given situation. Jim Baker can be relied upon to completely change any sound environment with a pivot of his seat, since that will determine whether one is going to hear his restlessly assertive voice on the piano and or the ozone-scorching sizzles he obtains from his ARP 2600. Keefe Jackson can likewise be counted upon to be equally engaged playing either sopranino or tenor saxophone, but lightning disruption he launches from the first differs profoundly from the mercurial forcefulness he summons on the second. Kirshner can also be expected to keep things moving without lapsing into cliché. But the trio keeps enough variables in play that you’ll never know quite how the music is going to get from start to end.

Bill Meyer

 Philip Jeck — Resistenza (Touch)

Resistenza by Philip Jeck

Touch has never been about staying in the past, so it makes sense that the firm would experiment with new formats. Resistenza is a digital-only recording issued on what would have been the 70th birthday of the late Philip Jeck, whose passing was just one of those that has made 2022 an especially rough slog. It’s simultaneously a bit sad and quite poetic that the first (and hopefully not last) posthumous release by an artist whose work was all about the stubborn physicality of vinyl would be a non-physical edition. It comprises two live recordings, both made in 2017-18. The more recent is “Live in Torino,” a fittingly ephemeral sequence of sounds snatched from old records and manipulated into ghostly scraps that spin and bob like the luminous traces left by deep sea fishes. “The Longest Wave,” which was recorded in Jeck’s home town of Liverpool, is quite the opposite. Jeck is joined by Jonathan Raisin, whose piano trills augment Jeck’s already lush flow. The best moments come when the turntablist breaks out some sub-aquatic bass figures that ballast Raisin’s delay-dampened drizzle of notes.

Bill Meyer 

 Niko Karlsson — Its Own Phantom (Feeding Tube)

Its Own Phantom by Niko Karlsson

Look out the window of your Finnish country cabin in the winter and your view is likely to be reduced to a few essentials. Grey sky, green trees, white snow — that’s about it. Its Own Phantom is an apt soundtrack for an afternoon spent gazing upon such a vista. None of its tracks are in a hurry, and each sweep of hand across strings (mostly guitar, sometimes banjo or sitar) unleashes a stream of melodious sound that’ll draw your mind into an imaginary space situated somewhere beyond the farthest visible fir. The term “acid folk” implies a potentially psychedelic experience generated by not entirely voltage dependent means. Let’s call this tape snowshoe folk; it may not induce hallucinatory states, but it has its own way of elevating the listener beyond the cold ground.

Bill Meyer

Eva Klesse Quartett — Songs Against Loneliness (Enja)

Songs against loneliness by Eva Klesse Quartett

Holiday season got you feeling isolated? Eva Klesse is here to help you feel better with Songs Against Loneliness. This new set of jazz originals by her quartet (joined occasionally by guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel) is soothing but not sleepy. Klesse, a drummer, composed five of the 13 tracks here, and the other members of the group, Evgeny Ring on sax, Marc Muellbauer on double bass and Philip Frischkorn on piano, contributed the rest of the compositions.

In practice, apart from the titles of the tracks (“Glory Glory Misfits,” “Der Eremit,” and so on), there is nothing ponderous (or overly perky) about the melodies and arrangements on display here. The quartet’s decade of playing and recording together (apart from Muellbauer, who replaces Robert Lucaciu this time around) is evident in its cohesiveness. Muthspiel and Klesse have worked together before, and his contributions here are fully integrated into the quartet’s sound, beginning with the poignant chords that open the title track “Minor Is What I Feel.” That track and some of the others seem carefully composed, while others, such as “Past, Tense,” are more improvisation. This cut builds slowly from a solo by Muellbauer to the full quartet. Klesse’s rattling percussion keeping things together without ever quite settling on a rhythm.

So take heart if you’re feeling left out and let these well-crafted tunes serve as your soundtrack for the journey back from loneliness. And if you’re already in the holiday spirit, Songs Against Loneliness will help keep you feeling warm and fuzzy.

Jim Marks

 Mdou Moctar — Niger EP Vol. 2 (Matador)

Niger EP Vol. 2 by Mdou Moctar

This is the second in a series to collect early cassette tape recordings of the Niger-ian guitar phenomenon as he and his band travelled, often by bus, to informal gigs: weddings, rehearsals, house parties. The vibe is not much different from Moctar’s studio recordings, pacing torrid runs of guitar with homespun handclaps and hand drums. The difference comes in the ambient sounds. A motorcycle zooms away at the end of “Iblis Amghar,” birds chirp and people go on with the ordinary activities in their lives, even with such incendiary music going on around them. And, indeed, it is fire, this music, balancing locomotive percussion and hypnogogic trance, as on driving, dreaming “Ibitilan” or the searing blues of “Asditke Akal.” “Chimoumounim” sounds as if it comes in from a great distance, its groove approaching, then taking up a central place in our ears and hearts. Moctar’s grooves sound great in the studio, but maybe even better here in their natural space.

Jennifer Kelly

 Mister Water Wet— Top Natural Drum (Soda Gong)

Top Natural Drum by Mister Water Wet

Top Natural Drum is Kansas City producer Iggy Romeu’s third album as Mister Water Wet. It’s also his first to arrive via a label other than West Mineral Ltd., the imprint founded by his buddy Brian Leeds, who most know as Huerco S. Although they’re connected, Romeu and Leeds have taken divergent paths. Romeu’s first two MWW outings were colorful and strange in comparison to Leeds’ grainy, monochromatic fog banks. He brews up his ambient tinctures with hints of jazz, hip hop and elements sourced from his Puerto Rican roots. Romeu is also careful to add subtle bits of the arcane to his concoctions, revealing himself to be a master crate digger. With Top Natural Drum, he drops the ambient veil to show off some rhythmic chops. The result is a series of head nodding beat-scapes sure to please those who spent the 1990s with their ears glued to the turntablism scene.  

Bryon Hayes

 The Modern Folk Trio Band — Always Be Recording (Island House)

IH-002 Always Be Recording by modern folk trio band

The Modern Folk Trio Band is actually a quintet, formed around J. Moss’s languid, liquid guitar, but including Austin Richards, Zach Barbery, Remi Lew and Trevor Schorey trading off on additional guitars, bass, drums and synthesizers. This cassette includes three tracks, two lengthy and one succinct, but all three fluid and luminous. “Diet Coke Extra Ice” winds placidly through slow, chugging lyricism, its lead guitar high and clear and full of light. “Slide Solo,” the short one, is just what its name implies, an interlude of intriguingly bent and haunted sounds, tinged by blues but not exactly boxed into it. And “Hot Jam,” the final cut, is not as viscerally physical as its title suggests, but rather a glistening, nodding, extended drone, grounded by the thud of drums but reaching always for an ethereal other-ness. Throughout, a loose improvisatory air presides. If you’re always recording, sometimes you get something good.

Jennifer Kelly

 Woody Sullender — Music from Four Movements & Other Favorites (Woody Sullender)

Music from 'Four Movements' & Other Favorites by Woody Sullender

What’s the difference between listening and performing listening? If you have the time and credit, you could take up the matter while you pursue an MFA. Or you could go to www.fourmovements.woodysullender.com and download Four Movements, a video game space that “consists of several navigable environments where the virtual participant can perform listening” and live the difference. It is the work of an artist and musician who has studied under Maryanne Amacher and previously performed banjo music under the guise, Uncle Woody Sullender, and it provides the sort of disparate yet cohesive sound experience one might expect from a person whose creative map contains such aesthetic/methodological coordinates. Cantering banjo in just intonation coexists with techno beats, a Robert Hood cover sounds like a streamlined remembrance of Conlon Nancarrow’s player piano music, and moments arise when you might wonder if this guy’s spent some salon time with Horse Lords.

Bill Meyer

 Tchornobog/Abyssal — Split LP (Lupus Lounge)

Tchornobog / Abyssal by Tchornobog

You get two epically scaled tracks of death metal-adjacent mayhem on this split LP. More bang for your buck? More yuck, for sure. Markov Soroka’s utterly whacko project Tchornobog is given the A side, and his 25-minute song “The Vomiting Choir” pummels and roils, blackened on its edges but still very much belly-down in layers of rancid muck (see that title…). There aren’t many opportunities to lift your face out of the sodden slurry and grab a breath — which is sort of impressive for a song so long, and by its halfway point, pretty oppressive, too. So, you may be grossed out by the bubbling, gurgling noises that become audible around the 11-minute mark, but at least the mix is a little less clogged up with clangor and crunch. Abyssal’s contribution, titled “Antechamber of the Wakeless Mind,” is only a minute shorter, but the song seems by contrast rather mannered, alternating slowly suppurating death-doom with long spells of churning, dissonant riffage that always feel consciously composed. The split is not a pleasant experience so much as it is an interesting experiment in differing modes of metal excess.

Jonathan Shaw 

 temp. — Taking notes (American Dreams)

Taking Notes by temp.

temp.’s Erica Mei Gamble is a producer, DJ and video archivist based in Chicago—and one half of the experimental electronic duo Dungeon Mother, but her Taking notes represents a significant step forward for the artist. It gathers music previously posted on Soundcloud into a chilly, cerebral and surprisingly cohesive statement; that is, it sounds very much like an album. It starts in wordless abstraction, the cut “Air” lofting translucent tones of synthesizer onto a pristine background. They pulse and flare like northern lights, unearthly also visceral. “Yah” finds the ghost in the machine as a human cry punctures glistening electric pulses; the cut is clean and a little spooky, like a quieter Shackleton. But it's “What’s Beyond,” performed with Gamble’s Dungeon Mother collaborator Sarah Leitten, that fully realizes the juncture between unreal, ominous sonics and fragile human consciousness. Leitten chants poetry against a seething mesh of synth tones, her words encompassing both natural and super-natural imagery (For example: “I’ll dance with the stars above/and I hold the moon in my hands/and I drink the sun with my eyes/and I am the darkness/I am the abyss.”) Later, with Emme Williams in “Trying to Climb,” Gamble stakes out a minimalist corner of the disco floor, with beats that glitch and blot and corrode and a half-remembered recorder melody tootling in the background.

Jennifer Kelly

  Wild Pink — ILYSM (Royal Mountain)

ILYSM by Wild Pink

John Ross got the idea for his song, “Hold My Hand” while lying on an operating table, waiting for the anesthetic to knock him out before surgery. Ross, who is the main creative force behind Wild Pink, found out he had cancer mid-way through recording this fourth full-length. His uncertainties around this diagnosis, combined with his dogged insistence to finish anyway, define this album, whose bright, soft indie pop textures wrap around some very dark textures. Consider, for instance, “Hell Is Cold,” with its thumping rhythms, its half-focused glitch textures, its shimmering layers of piano. Ross sings just above a whisper, here and elsewhere, in a confiding tone that tickles the hairs inside your ear. Yet while the sonically, the song bounds and wafts, its message doesn’t. “I know I’ll be free when I die,” sings Ross, and the song ends abruptly like a life snuffed out. Likewise, the title track, aims at the kind of soccer stadium anthemic-ness that sends beach balls bobbling out over festival crowds. “I love you so much,” Ross intones over surging synths and pounding drums. Still, despite its ebullience, the cut has a vertiginous feel, as if the bottom is dropping out. Like many people facing difficulties, Ross reached out to friends for aid. The album has striking cameos from Julien Baker (“Hold My Hand”) and a multigenerational brace of guitarists, J. Mascis (who rips a sidewinder “See You Better Now”), Ryley Walker (breezily anthemic in “Simple Glyphs”) and Yasmin Williams (shimmering and gorgeous in “The Grass Widow in the Glass Window”). And yet, for all that, and despite the serious subject matter, the music mostly feels bland and oversaccharine, except for the sludgy, guitar-driven fury of “Sucking on Birdshot” and, at the end, “ICLYM” shuffling out like the Beta Band in shambolic triumph.

Jennifer Kelly

[valleyfthdolls]

What about the clubs? Not every character in them, but the groups as a whole

Hang on lemme google the clubs again

Cooking club: The cooking club gets extra credit for their involvement. They’re kind of exclusive: kids with bad reputations are not allowed in their club. They’re otherwise the same- pretty tight knit, very positive, and they have a lot of respect for Amai.

Drama club: Only describes the students who engage in the drama program year round and not just during show season. Some of the members are very hardcore and look down on people who won’t engage year round (such as Kizana and, to a lesser extent, Tsuzuro). As of 2019 (when my rewrite takes place), they are performing Yotsuya Kaidan, one of the most influential Japanese ghost stories of all time. They’re not very close- in fact, they tend to be quite competitive, even though they do bond during production.

Occult club: A religious group with a focus on spiritualism. Believes the school is haunted or at least has some kind of a negative energy. (They are right.) Most of the occult club has decent reputations, but due to the stigma around their religious practices, they aren’t fully trusted. They’re quite tight-knit, and a bit like a coven of witches.

Art club: The art club has a pretty good reputation among the school because their art is used for the clubs and programs at school’s promotional posters, which livens the atmosphere of the school. It’s fun by Shoku (cooking club temp leader)’s little sister Geiju, who has presented masc/androgynous for enough of his life that people have kind of forgotten he’s a girl (butch he/him lesbian). Geiju is a little weird, but he’s well liked anyway. He has no reservations against having disliked students in his club, unless they show a disrespect for art.

Light music club: Well, if Miyuji’s bandmates don’t like you, you’re not getting in, but even if you’ve never looked at a musical instrument in your life, Miyuji has no reservations about letting people in. She has a sort of “the more, the merrier” view of it. The band as it is is pretty close, but they’re also very welcoming and will take new members under their wing without a fuss. They get on well with some of the other alt kids at school (like the gyarus- especially Hoshiko, who’s rokku gyaru- and the occult club). If Miyuji doesn’t like you, word will spread among the other alt students.

Martial arts club: It’s kind of the same, but Masato (Budo, club leader) had more of a complex about having to be a teacher to everyone. This is what drove Emiri (Raibaru) away from the club: when she stepped down as leader, she was planning to stay, but it strained her relationship with Masato because he suddenly felt totally responsible for her. Generally respected.

Photography club: Mostly photographs scenery. Will photograph whatever people want for a price. Frequently commissioned by info-chan, despite her also finding them a massive nuisance. They find it necessary to find proof of every rumor. From a gameplay standpoint, they would be an easy way to bully a student- gossip to them and let them find the proof.

Science club: The roomba is their pet. They named it wan-chan (essentially they call it “doggy”). They’re less deranged mad scientists and more a group of total nerds. Mostly computer scientists. Yaku is either a TV head kid with a working screen or a protogen furry. Either way I think he made the screen himself and he’s not allowed to wear either to school so he settles for that visor.

Sports club: Don’t care about these people. To be frank I always forget they exist.

Gardening club: Uekiya is kind to everyone, but I figure she’d probably also not allow club members with bad reputations.

Gaming club: Also a bunch of massive nerds. Actually an e-sports team and compete nationwide. They’re also pretty competitive, but in a friendly way. That being said, they’re not really close, and new members fit in about as well as anyone else.

Delinquents: Were bullied in middle school and adopted the delinquent persona to protect themselves, but they are an outright criminal gang. In the game, Sakyu says that they protect bullied students, but not only do we never see this, they actually do the opposite: they physically harass and assault classmates for getting too close to them, berate and insult everyone who passes by, and when Ayano tries to become their friend, they assume it’s because she’s being bullied and needs help, and they ridicule her for it. I would lean into this: the delinquents became your stereotypical boy bullies to protect themselves against bullying. The bullying thing is something I’ll get into in a sec.

Student council: An entirely formal relationship. They’re very hard on new members.

Gyarus: A group of social but highly defensive and combative girls. All of them having been bullied for their styles (as well as Kashiko for being half black, Hoshiko for her weight, and Kokoro for being trans), they’re quick to become defensive against others. They’re VERY tight knit and bordering on a polyamorous relationship of some kind. It would take a lot to fully fit in with them. They beef a lot with the delinquents.

Clubless students: Hosho, Hazuki and Otohiko (Horuda, Hazu and Otohiko) stick together mostly because they’re all really shy and bullied students. Hosho hangs around the art club, but is too shy to draw, Hazuki likes sewing, but the only other seamstress in school is Ayano, and Otohiko I feel likes crossword puzzles a lot which is a very niche thing to like. All of them are very forgiving of students with bad reputations- Otohiko has a reputation as an easy target, Hosho as a freak and a creep, and Hazuki as an unsocialized weirdo. Toga and Kyuji are not really friends with them, but they’re all kinda at the same spot in life, so there’s some solidarity there. Kyuji and Toga are kinda close, though.

The rainbow kids: they’re there! In my rewrite :) Yui and Haruto are lowkey bullies.

As for the bullying thing, I think it’s been mentioned that in the main game, there’s supposed to be 5 levels of bullying so here’s what I imagine that like. Most groups engage in the bullying, all feeling justified in doing so. Content warning for increasingly more traumatic bullying.

Level 1: Students start gossiping. The gyarus will cut the victim off if they were friends and the delinquents will become more aggressive. The photography club will look for proof that the rumors are true. Domino effects will begin among friend groups- one student dislikes the victim, which makes their friends dislike them, which makes their friends dislike them. The victim will be removed, if applicable, from the gardening or cooking club.

Level 2: The victim will be removed from any clubs. They will begin getting pranked and having their belongings stolen. Notes will be left in their locker.

Level 3: Bullies will begin interacting with the victim physically: classmates will push them out of the way and trip them, delinquents will threaten them, etc. They will begin to write on their desk.

Level 4: Bullying turns physical. Delinquents will beat the victim if they see them.

Level 5: At this point, the victim will withdraw from school or worse.

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: A bit of Dark Humor, only some of it being Lovecraftian.

No commentary needed...

1915: HPL Output - Part 2.

Intro: Continuation of Howard's "(The) Ballad of Patrick Von Flynn", which was 1st printed in HPL's political mag The Conservative - in 1916.

Text:

Then they started (upon) England & my heart beat quick with pride, As about "...British perfidy"¹ they babbled & they lied.

I thought we Irish could invent the rankest Billingsgate,² But wondrous are the fishy yarns these Dutchmen³ can relate!

My friends that had come with me were so moved with martial ire, (That) they (crowded) round (a) rusty stove to argue & perspire.

I grew so patriotic that I took my hat in hand, And shouted " (Salute the) Kaiser and the dear old Fatherland!"

Be that we'll lick (those) Brits within a fortnight⁴ sharp, And join in one triumphant flag, the eagle & the harp!⁵

Then all began to fraternize; Mc Nulty & von Bohn, O'Donovan & Hunster- berg, von Bulow & Malone.

In Bacchic⁶ bonds our pact we sealed; in harmony serene, We sang at once "Die Wacht am Rhein"⁷ & "Wearing of the Green."⁸

Old von der Goltz picked up a brogue;⁹ in Dutch young Dooley sang; Amid Prussian & Hibernian¹⁰ strains the ancient rafters rang!¹¹

Now all at once, a magic... crept into my bones, And my... voice burst forth - in Prussian tones!

I felt a strange sensation & in fancy (I) seemed to see, Instead of dear old Shannon's¹² banks, the gently rippling Sprec.¹³

No, not the Spree¹⁴ (do) I mean, but that which... flows, Through (the) Deutschland('s)³ grassy leas,¹⁵ where war & culture grows.

(Alas!)¹⁶...Where am I now? (And) what conflict am I in? Do I belong in Dublin¹⁷ town or back in Berlin?¹⁸

A week ago my son was born; his christening not far off; I wonder will I call him Mike or Frederick Wilhelm Hoff?

(It's) hard indeed for one like me to know just where (I'm) at; I wonder if my name is Hans or if it('s) still Pat?

But let me bore you all no more; the proper course is clear. I'll slander¹⁹ England all I dare & reason never hear.

A loyal 'neutral' I shall be in all my words & work, And never speak except to praise the Dutchmen & the Turk!²⁰

Footnotes:

1. Usually means someone who's "deceitful" & "dishonest."

But, it can also be somebody so dangerous they are "treasonous" & "disloyal."

2. Once, the name of the world's largest fish market - which was in London from 1850 to 1873.

Being that Lovecraft hated seafood, I imagine that he's going for the "foul" stench of such a place.

3. Dutchmen once described any folks from Germany, Switzerland, Austria & the Low Countries - Luxembourg, The Netherlands & Belgium.

Now, it's the preferred term for people from The Netherlands alone.

Dutchland once referred to Germany only.

Now, it's used to describe speakers of the Germanic languages - Germany, Flanders, Austria, Switzerland & The Netherlands.

4. A fortnight means a period of "14 nights" or "2 weeks."

This is because the Anglo-Saxons counted time spans by "nights."

5. The German eagle is a symbol of the sun, the life force & the highest God.

Strangely enough, the German coat of arms uses a black eagle with a red beak, tongue & feet on a golden background.

As for the Irish harp flag, it's a symbol of resistance to British rule since the 1800s.

Strangely enough, it was seen as such a powerful emblem - that the British actually banned it for a time!

6. Bacchic is anything related to Bacchus, the Greek god of wine!

This ancient god was worshipped with drunken orgies.

So, It's not surprising that this god is mentioned.

In its original form, "Ye Ballade" is written as if the narrator is pretty drunk!

7. "Watch on the Rhine" is a patriotic German song written in 1840 by M. Schneckenburger.

It was originally inspired by an earlier poem, "Rheinlied" written by N. Beck- er in the same year.

Generally, "Watch" is sung to music composed 7 years after its writer died!

8. "Wearing of the Green" is an Irish street ballad lamenting the repression following the Irish Rebellion of 1798.

Its lyrics claim that "they are hanging men & women for the wearing of the green."

"Wearing green" supposedly made one invisible to leprechauns!

Since its original writer is unknown, the best known version is from play- wright Dion Boucicault.

These lyrics were 1st found in his 1864 play "The Wicklow Wedding."

9. Brogue has 2 different meanings from 2 older words:

A. The "outdoor shoe" or "boot" mean- ing is from the Old Norse brog, "leg covering."

B. The "accent" meaning is from Irish barrog, "speech impediment."

Nowadays, it refers to a distinct local accent - especially an Irish or Scottish one.

10. Hibernia is the Latin name for Ire- land but, it was taken from old Greek geographical accounts.

During his exploration of Northwest Europe, Pytheas (Greek sailor) knew Ireland as Ierne.

Tacitus (Roman historian) is the 1st to use Hibernia.

This spelling was influenced by Latin Hibernus, "wintry land."

11. Rafters weren't people sailing down rapids - at this time.

Instead, the rafters here are sloped beams that transfer the roof's weight on to the load-bearing walls.

This allows buildings to remain stable & withstand wind & snow loads.

That they "rang" only means that they "echoed" the song being sung by the Irish men.

12. The Shannon is the largest river in the British Isles.

It's name is shared with the Shannon Pot (a large pool), far in the North of Ireland - where it begins its South bound journey.

Strangely enough, the "Pot" is actually connected to other pools in the area - via Shannon Cave system...

The story is that Sionnan (the "wise" goddess) lifted the cover off a well - which promptly erupted!!

Then, the new river flowed on South, dividing Ireland in two!

13. Sprec seems to refer to the Old English ("Anglo-Saxon") word of ge- sprec, "the power of speech!"

This describes cheerful people who make jokes, trying to make others feel comfortable.

14. The Spree is the main German tributary flowing North into the larger Havel River.

Strangely enough, just above the city of Spremberg, the Spree splits into 2 temporary streams!

In Berlin, the Spree is part of the local trade network.

15. A lea is an "open area of grassy land" better known as "a meadow" or "a field."

16. Alas means "an expression of pity, sadness", "disappointment", "regret" or "concern."

17. Dublin ("black pool") is the capital of Ireland. It's nicknamed "The Pale (City)" & "The Big Smoke."

This city has long traditions of literary & cultural history.

Weirdly enough, Dublin holds 2 types of mummies!

There's preserved bog bodies & Saint Michan's 800 year old mummy, who reaches out of his coffin - to shake your hand!!

18. Berlin (West Slavic "swampy?") is the capital of modern Germany.

It's nicknames are "The Grey City" & "Athens on the Spree."

Weirdly enough, Berlin hosts plenty of strange things to do - from guided ghost tours to museums of unheard- of 'things' & even off-menu cocktails!!

19. "Lies told to damage anyone's or anything's reputation."

Here, Britain's reputation is called into question.

Weirdly enough, that's all that the narrator plans on doing!

It's as if the Irish were unable to even plan & mount any other kind of violent resistance...

But, of course, we know that Howard was trying to put everyone (who wasn't Anglo-Saxon) down - to fit into his 'race's' created caste system.

20. During WW1, Turkey was under the control of the Ottoman Empire - which sided with the Central Powers.

In the early years of the WW1, Turkey fought defensive battles to strangle the Russian war effort & tie down British troops & war materials.

The Ottomans did this because the Central Powers promised them control over some Russian territories.

But, they lost their gamble & the war.

The Turkish fought & won a war of independence in 1919, concluding the end of the Ottoman Empire.

After a few changes in government, the Republic of Turkey was born on October of 1923.

Criticism: < "Hybrids & Hyphenates" by Rob Brown.

Lovecraft was a writer whose political & social commentary have become foder for learned discussion.

For anyone who's interested in Ho- ward's personal writings, they're full of problematic bigotry & imperialistic politics.

Both permeate most of HPL's works.

Although, most of his personal aspirations came from classic English masters, Lovecraft was widely read enough to have perused thru various translations of ancient thought.

Among them, some 'fantastic' Irish literature.

Yet, Howard would only highly praise the Anglo-Irish writers, loyal subjects of the British Empire!

Cultured folk set apart from the lower- class Irish immigrants that HPL knew in his native Providence.

One particular nasty bit of work, was Lovecraft's racist poem "Ye Ballade of Patrick Von Flynn" by Lewis Theobald, Jr - one of Howard's many pen names.

HPL wrote it in a mocking & drunken 'Irish' slang.

In it, Lovecraft accused the Irish of colluding with the enemy Germans!

Further, Howard presents the Irish as an inferior & traitorous working class!!

"Ye Ballade" is an example of HPL's jingoistic attitude towards everyone who wasn't of White Anglo-Saxon lineage.

Only minorities who were culturally indoctrinated in Anglo-Saxon mores were acceptable to Lovecraft.

Otherwise, even honest Irishmen de- served to be mocked...

End.

[institutestrength]

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Excessive screen time for children under the age of 12 can have several negative effects on their physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Here are some key detriments:

1. Physical Health Issues:

- Vision Problems: Prolonged screen use can cause eye strain, discomfort, and even long-term vision issues such as myopia.

- Sedentary Lifestyle: Excessive screen time often replaces physical activity, leading to a sedentary lifestyle that can contribute to obesity and related health issues like diabetes and cardiovascular problems.

- Sleep Disruption: Exposure to blue light from screens, especially before bedtime, can interfere with the production of melatonin, disrupting sleep patterns and leading to sleep deprivation.

2. Mental Health Concerns:

- Attention Problems: Constant exposure to fast-paced, attention-grabbing digital content can reduce a child's ability to focus and pay attention for extended periods, potentially impacting academic performance.

- Increased Anxiety and Depression: High levels of screen time, particularly with social media use, have been linked to increased rates of anxiety and depression in children.

3. Cognitive Development:

- Delayed Development: Excessive screen time can impede the development of essential skills such as language acquisition, critical thinking, and problem-solving, especially in younger children who benefit more from hands-on, interactive learning.

- Reduced Academic Performance: Overreliance on screens for entertainment rather than educational purposes can negatively affect academic performance and reduce the time spent on homework or reading.

4. Social and Emotional Impacts:

- Social Isolation: Children spending too much time on screens may miss out on crucial face-to-face interactions, which are essential for developing social skills, empathy, and emotional intelligence.

- Behavioral Issues: There is evidence to suggest a link between high screen time and increased behavioral problems, such as aggression and difficulty managing emotions.

5. Addiction and Dependency:

- Screen Addiction: The engaging nature of digital content can lead to addictive behaviors, where children become dependent on screens for stimulation and entertainment, making it difficult for them to engage in other activities.

To mitigate these risks, it's important for parents and caregivers to set clear limits on screen time, encourage regular physical activity, ensure a balanced schedule with time for homework and social interactions, and promote screen-free zones and times, especially before bed.

Engaging children in physical activities can be both fun and beneficial for their health and development. Here are some effective ways to get a child engaged physically:

1. Outdoor Play:

- Sports: Enroll them in team sports like soccer, basketball, baseball, or tennis. These activities not only provide physical exercise but also teach teamwork and discipline.

- Biking: Encourage regular bike rides in the neighborhood or on local trails.

- Hiking: Take them on nature hikes to explore the outdoors and enjoy physical activity.

2. Interactive Games:

- Tag or Hide and Seek: Traditional playground games are a great way to keep children moving and interacting with peers.

- Obstacle Courses: Create a fun obstacle course in the backyard or park, challenging them to run, jump, and climb.

3. Dance and Movement:

- Dance Classes: Sign them up for dance lessons such as ballet, hip-hop, or jazz.

- Dance Parties: Have impromptu dance parties at home with their favorite music.

4. Structured Classes:

- Martial Arts: Enroll them in martial arts classes like karate, taekwondo, or judo, which also teach discipline and self-defense.

- Gymnastics: Gymnastics classes can help improve flexibility, strength, and coordination.

5. Family Activities:

- Walks and Jogging: Go for family walks or jogs in the morning or evening.

- Swimming: Spend time at the pool or beach, swimming and playing water games together.

- Gardening: Involve them in gardening activities, which require physical effort and teach about nature.

6. Creative Play:

- Treasure Hunts: Organize treasure hunts that require them to run around and solve clues.

- Interactive Playgrounds: Visit playgrounds that have various equipment for climbing, swinging, and balancing.

7. Home-Based Activities:

- Fitness Videos: Use kid-friendly fitness videos or apps that make exercise fun and engaging.

- Indoor Games: Set up indoor activities like balloon volleyball, hopscotch, or jumping rope.

8. Involving Friends:

- Playdates: Arrange playdates with physically active friends to encourage social and physical interaction.

- Sports Clubs: Join local youth clubs or leagues where they can participate in organized sports.

9. Setting Goals and Rewards:

- Activity Challenges: Create challenges with rewards for achieving certain physical activity goals, like a family hike or a fun outing.

10. Lead by Example:

- Be Active Together: Show them the importance of physical activity by being active yourself. Children often mimic the behavior of adults.

By incorporating a variety of these activities into their routine, you can help children develop a love for physical activity, ensuring they stay active and healthy.

Consider hiring a personal trainer to help you reach your goals today!

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[thelastrenaissance]

The Day Is Done Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.

[all-the-fun-of-the-cirkus]

alright, first-time listen of the year no. 2 is hawks & doves by neil young, which is honestly a much weirder album than i was expecting

more than pretty much any other artist i tend to consider neil young a standalone album guy. take, say, genesis for instance; other than the odd aberration like the lamb, you can draw a clear line from trespass to invisible touch where every album is more or less a logical followup to its predecessor. neil young, on the other hand, just does whatever the fuck he wants. i mean, this comes after his proto-grunge album, but if you were just listening to his discography without any guide you'd put it right next to harvest, and i'd defy anyone to tell that this album came out in 1980. the standalone thing means you never really know what you're getting, and you certainly can't rely on other people to articulate it for you

the weirdest thing about this album is that it has a reputation as the Country One and as being a throwaway, which is arguably true... for side 2. but then the only songs from it people ever talk about are from side 1! it's baffling. and to be clear, side 2's alright; union man's a little too silly, but the first two tracks are enjoyable throwaways, comin' apart at every nail is... interesting, in a way i can't quite figure out yet, and the title track is alright (i haven't the foggiest whether it's a pisstake or a sincere statement, but that's par for the course with neil)

side 1, however, is excellent in its entirety. the thing that stood out to me, oddly enough, was neil's voice; it's real high in the mix, like he really wanted those lyrics clear, and he sound oddly tired and strained, particularly in little wing. wonder if that was intentional or if he really was just tired and strained. anyway everyone tips their hat to little wing, which is a great moody opener (it very much sounds like it was recorded in his bedroom, to its credit), but the obligatory "what the hell is he on about" track in the old homestead is the highlight for me. for some reason, it sounds to me musically like a more lowkey version of it's alright ma, and of course it's not as good as one of the greatest songs of all time, but there's a quiet intensity to the whole thing despite (or maybe because of) the absolutely baffling lyrics. fab arrangement, too; the saw could absolutely have been higher in the mix but burying it lends the whole song a really eeriness, and the stiff, martial drumming adds to the atmosphere too

the other two tracks are less impressive but still good; captain kennedy is a nice sea shanty pastiche, and lost in space is a fairly generic song absolutely jumping out of its skin to be interesting anyway (the frazzled, confused lyrics, the tempo changes, that weird nursery rhyme bit, the lovely dual guitar melody in the breaks). i think i actually might have more to say on this at some point but it's four in the morning, so. not an all-time great, but i was pleasantly surprised, good album

[19blogmk]

Tunisians Mourn a Hard-Fought Freedom Rapidly Slipping Away

Mosaïque FM, Tunisia’s most popular radio station, comes to life each morning around 5:30 a.m. with the martial strains of the national anthem. Next comes a voice crooning a verse from the Quran, then music and news, followed by the political show “Watch What They Say,” which has chronicled the floundering of the country’s young democracy and its recent U-turn toward autocracy. The show’s host,…

[18blogmk]

Tunisians Mourn a Hard-Fought Freedom Rapidly Slipping Away

Mosaïque FM, Tunisia’s most popular radio station, comes to life each morning around 5:30 a.m. with the martial strains of the national anthem. Next comes a voice crooning a verse from the Quran, then music and news, followed by the political show “Watch What They Say,” which has chronicled the floundering of the country’s young democracy and its recent U-turn toward autocracy. The show’s host,…