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spiritmaiden23 · 3 years

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FIVE AESTHETICS TAG

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS

Optimism. -- After everything that happened, you manage to cling to your faith. Your optimism shines brightest when placed in others. You unquestionably think the world of them, of him most of all. Everyone has the potential to do their best! Sometimes, they need a little push, but that's something you provide a little too eagerly.

Spirited. -- You're someone who knows how to find the fun in things. You're a natural lighthearted, and easy-going sort of person. For the most part, that is, because, whenever you get serious, all of those previous traits go out the window. However, despite that, you're always happy to share your joy with others and providing said joy through various means. And teasing others can be pretty fun too, so sometimes you can be a little mischievous! But it's all in good fun, you promise! Just be careful because, sometimes, your positive energy may not rub off too well on others.

Emotional. -- Someone who wears their passionate heart on their sleeve. Well tuned with your passions, you're empathetic to a fault. There's nothing too wrong with that, but sometimes you can be a slave to your emotions, not taking much time to step back for a moment. Yet, you have displayed growth in this after your awakening, thanks to a mentor and friend.

Responsible. -- Responsible is your middle name! You're a pretty reliable person due to how dedicated you are to completing whatever tasks you have at hand. One might say you can be a little too committed, but you never saw anything wrong with that. You will keep whatever promise you can make and see things through. After all, you carried out the goddess' mission to the very end, it's all over now.

Wise. -- In the end, however, wisdom runs through your veins. While intelligent enough to the point where you will devour any texts you may get your hands on, you carry a deep understanding of the world. Though a bit more emotional, logic will persist in the end, and you have learned to fall back onto wisdom more than ever. Certain choices hurt so much, but you know this to be the right one no matter how much pain it may cause to you and others around you.

COLORS

Pink. -- An adorable color you've been fond of since your youth! You have a weakness for all shades. It's not a stretch to say you love any bright colors the warmth of them all is appealing to you.

White. -- The color that has been with you throughout both lives. You feel a little conflicted about this color, you admire its purity. But. It's stifling in a sense where the color reminds you of your past life and your duties.

Lavender. -- This color is more bearable than white. There's a soothing sense to it, and you feel calm and assured.

Green. -- It should be pretty clear why you have an attachment to this color, no? The surface greeted you with warm greenery, the goddess of courage proudly wore this color, the spring comes painting the world in this color, and your dear friend was simply made for this color. It evokes bravery to you, strange as that may sound to others.

Blue. -- Blue skies still hang over you as you stand on the earth. The stretch of blue has always been a constant in your life, and now you can't imagine your life without it. And, during your long sleep, his blue eyes were all that you saw within your fleeting dreams.

SCENTS

Earth. -- You fell in love with nature and everything it'd provided for you, including the scents. While fresh air is always refreshing, you adore the smell of Faron Woods the most. Namely during springtime!

Cotton. -- A funny choice, huh? But it's something you worked around for who knows how long now. The nights spent sewing or knitting away were comforting moments for you.

Books. -- Some may call you a bookworm but, in your humble opinion, there's nothing better than the smell of fresh pages, thank you very much! Although you do carry a soft spot for more ancient pages too.

Floral. -- You don't ask a mother to pick her favorite child, so how can anyone ask for you to choose a favorite flower when you adore each scent?! They're so comforting, each scent unique as the flower itself. Sometimes, you'll collect a few from Faron Woods and create a nice little bouquet. Filling your home with a floral scent all while brightening up the place.

Leather and iron. -- It... uh, it sounds unique. Some might even call it strange, but the smell brings you back to the days where you trained to become a knight alongside classmates and your dear friend.

CLOTHING

Ribbons. -- You have a pretty fun way of putting ribbons in your hair! Rather than a simple bow, you like to wrap various ones around your hair framing your face and low ponytail or even wrap it around with other hair styles like braids! Sometimes, you'll put it around like a headband, and a little bow. Hey! You like to switch things up a bit!

Bracelets and necklaces. -- Such cute accessories you love which can go with almost any outfit you decided to wear that day! Sometimes, you find yourself fiddling with them, but you'll try to wear one or two or more every day! Yet, there's only one bracelet that you cherish more than anything. A lavender set, where you gave one half to your friend. Yet, she'd returned it to you. And you didn't even get to thank her face to face for everything that she has done. You don't have earrings, strange...

Dresses and skirts. -- What can you say? You have a fondness for those articles of clothing. Of course, because you're pretty active and always running around the place, leggings are also part of your ensemble, but you tend to wear skirts that come to your shins which helps with...!

Boots. -- Showing off your nice leather boots, of course! You prefer boots above all other shoes, they're perfect for travel, and very comfortable too. The sandals you wore while traveling around the surface were nice, but boots would've been an ideal choice.

Belts and sashes. -- A nice way to finish off your outfits! You're a girl who loves to dress cute, and dress to impress more yourself, and perhaps a certain hero. Once, you wore the sailcloth around your shoulders, you'd like to try doing something like that again.

OBJECTS

Books and scrolls. -- Since you were young, you always found yourself spending nights in your father's archives reading whatever you could. Your room's filled with so many books it can leave someone's head spinning. Whether fictional novels, textbooks, historical books, etc. You loved to read them all, the sky's the limit!

Harp. -- It's a lovely instrument, and you prefer to hear the hero play it more than yourself. It sounds more enchanting whenever he plays it. You are aware its your bias staining your views.

Yarn, knitting needles, and sewing supplies. -- It's a past time you adore, even to this day. Without your handy little kit, you wouldn't be able to make any of the incredible stuff you had!

Strange green doll. -- You saw him in a dream and saw the little guy pop in various texts as well. A man dressed in green who believed himself to be a fairy. Or chosen by the fairies? You can't exactly remember the details, but he was apparently a charm for safe travels and good fortune. It couldn't help to find a few rupees here and there. You're starting to think that perhaps you should make more of this fella for friends...

Wooden Indigo carving. -- A wood carving of your beloved loft wing made by your dear friend. It was one of the first items you took when moving down to the surface! Whenever you would look at it, you can't hide the glee that makes your heart flutter. Your friend is amazing in everything, isn't he?! You're pretty proud of that fact.

(bonus) Master sword. -- It's not something you own, nor do you have any plans to own the sword. But she's someone who you hold dear to your heart. Without the spirit inside of the sword forged by your hero, you couldn't even imagine how things would've turned out. Fi was a companion that your friend bonded with during his search for you. You're grateful for how Fi helped him out.

VICES / BAD HABITS

Stubborn. -- You may call it tenacious and see nothing wrong with it, but others will call it as it is: stubbornness. Once you have your mind set on something, there's no stopping you. At times, this can get you into deep trouble.

Worrywart. -- You transform into a different person when it comes to this! You can be nosy and interfere with whatever business someone may have and step on in without input. It does not help that you tend to jump the gun. You're a restless busybody, many would say. It comes from compassion and concern, but it can annoy or anger certain people. While the damage is done, you are pretty remorseful of the fact and try to make up for it however you can.

Overly encouraging/positive. -- It somewhat goes hand in hand with your worrywart tendencies. It's because you see the best in everyone that drives you to be a busybody in the first place. That said, while a positive attitude isn't always bad, it can across different to someone depending on the time and situation. You can make naive choices and even come across as a bit insensitive whenever your attempts at cheering up others may not translate well.

Temper. -- Not something that pops up very often, but there are chances of it nevertheless depending on how wronged you feel or if someone were to do something you don't agree with. Bullying is a big one for you. You don't exactly hold grudges, as your anger is pretty short-lived, sadly not many people take your ire seriously either. It's something you can't hope to understand why. You tend to scold people more than anything.

Self-sacrificing. -- Oh dear, it plays into how responsible you are to a fault. You are not afraid to give up your all if it means saving everyone. You tend to keep your intentions a secret and run off on your own to finish the job. Placing you in great danger since no one's around to help. Not that you intend to have anyone help you, it's something you want to do with your own hands. You love too much. You care too much. You are willing to do anything to protect the lands and people in it, loved ones and him. Ah... you have died because of this... twice. But, it seems like this part of you will never go away, huh?.

BODY LANGUAGE

A bright smile on your face, her pink cheeks becoming darker! You're full of good cheer and very expressive. Sometimes, you'll even do that encouraging fist pump! It's easy to read your mind since your face is an open book. While your soft giggles are sometimes hidden behind your hand, you're someone who likes to laugh aloud. Towards the one you like, you're not afraid to lean forward just a tad bit. Sometimes, you'll push someone off of some high place.

Laced hands and a gaze filled with concern. You'll press your lips as you try to figure out just how to ease your said concern. Until resolve enters your gaze, sometimes some might take that as not being a good thing.

You liked to hug the goddess harp close to your chest during your journey. Sometimes, you still do this whenever you go off with it to pray to the gods. It's a bit of a comfort thing and something you wished to protect. At the time, you couldn't understand why but now...

Holding someone's hands, hugging, whatever other contact you're not shy about showing skin ship towards friends and loved ones. It's your way of showing, shoot, everything!

Your hand on your hip is never a good sign when it comes to you. Your eyes are usually narrowed here, and once you open your mouth this is when you start your lecture. Although sometimes, this position can just be you taking charge too.

Hands covering your face as tears roll down your cheeks. You're smiling, though, because it's finally all over. You save your tears until the very end. Or try, telling your best friend of your plans did have you cry a bit.

AESTHETICS

Birds, free as can be, flying off into the distance. Whether loftwings or the smaller birds found on the surface, it's a sight that you'll never grow tired of.

Streaming rivers and comforting holy springs. Water dripping from golden hair and your fingertips. You have an affinity for water, something tied closely with the goddess of wisdom.

Gold spilling from your hands, beautiful, warm gold. The gold of the goddess harp. The gold of the triforce. It's a lovely power, tied to the divine. Something you're both a part of yet not.

Leaves dancing with the morning wind, grass with dew on them, the early sun vanquishing the night air in that soft glow. another great day is ahead! so you're up with the world, now time to wake up a certain sleepyhead!

tagged by: @personnages (thank you my goodness this was fun!) tagging: whoever hasn’t been tagged yet!

#about.#dash games.#(#THANK YOUUUUU THIS WAS LEGIT HELLA FUN #it took me a bit ;v; but writing this style was fun! i'd like to do it again!#anyhow *jazz hands* sky #there's spoiler for ss bUT THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS SS SPOILER SO I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT TO DO ABOUT THAT SORRY #rped her back in 2017. i had no clue sshd would drop anytime soon ;v; not a lot of ppl played it so i had to explain things in length #so ppl understand her. i feel bad tho but TvT not much to do #)

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aggressivelyclueless · 4 years

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hey @kiinotasha this one’s for you

human!Danny/runaway/pitch-pearl

a handful of regret, a little solace, and a pinch of fluff

i know it’s super late but thanks so much for being patient! the end bit took me like six tries to get it to stick how i wanted

i will also be posting this on ao3 at some point fyi

Winter had officially rolled in that morning. Amity Park had all but shut down with the snow - after-school activities had been canceled; the highways had turned to skating rinks in the mid-morning sleet; even retailers had begun to close their doors for the afternoon to wait out the worst of the storm. Before five o'clock, when the sun would have set, the streets were vacant. Everyone, it seemed, had holed up at home.

Everyone except Danny. Nevermind the snow - he couldn't stand to spend another minute at the house. His mother's accusing voice still cut through his mind: you'll never listen to reason, will you? Look at the facts, Jack! It's simply not possible! None of it had been directed at Danny, but he resented both of his parents nonetheless. December, to him, was the season of hey-Tuck-can-I-stay-the-weekend and please-Sam-I'll-do-anything-to-be-out-of-the-house and if-I-have-to-keep-putting-up-with-this-I'll-die. When he wasn't home, at least he could hear himself think!

It wasn't fair. He hated how easily any conversation could slide into animosity, he hated the gnawing misery that crept up steadily from November onwards (and that was if he was lucky - one year the radio stations had all conspired to deliver tell-tale sleigh bells as early as October the twenty-first), and he hated how no one listened whenever he said he disliked the holidays. It was always oh, but you've got to celebrate something, don't you? or how can you be so sour at such a lovely time of year? or the affronted but surely everyone loves Christmas! as if he'd stricken the event from the calendar simply by wishing it ill.

If only.

So, despite the snow and despite the cold, he'd made his way out to the Nasty Burger in the hope it would still have been open, and in the hope that Sam and Tucker might still be there. It wasn't; they weren't; and after a moment of overwhelming frustration and despair he'd turned tail and run. In that moment, he didn't care where he ended up, or how far away it was - all that mattered was that he left his stupid house and his stupid parents and their stupid fight behind. Forget the snow, the fire in his belly grumbled, forget the cold. Just run.

By the time he'd run out of breath, he'd made it as far as the bus station out of town. He had a few bucks on him, but only one line was still running due to the snow. He didn't care; he took it, ignoring the rough night out there, isn't it? from the driver as he boarded, and collapsed into one of the seats in the back. He wondered how far he'd really have to go before he could escape the last echoes of his mother's voice. Even then, as the bus trundled sluggishly through the snow, he could still hear her.

It's not possible, Jack! Such a feat defies science! Jack, you can't be that foolish!

How many years of it did they expect him to take?

By the time the bus dropped him off, he was numb. The doors creaked open, he shuffled out, and the cold bit him anew. It was dark out now - how far had he gone, he wondered. The streets certainly looked the same. Had he ended up a town over? Three towns? Ten? Distance meant nothing; the bus doors closed behind him, and it lumbered off.

He was on his own.

The snow appeared to have let up, although it hadn't quit entirely. It fell not with icy malice but was fat-flaked and lazy, and the scene before him was silent save for a street-plow that rumbled from the parking lot down the road.

Isn't this what you wanted? to hear yourself think?

His mind began to tick again, and the lonesomeness finally struck him. He really was on his own, without Sam or Tucker or even Jazz at his side, and the silence of the town seemed to press in on him. Go on, something in him whispered, you wanted to be alone, didn't you? How long do you think before they'll even notice you're gone? Two or three days, maybe? Or maybe they'll only think twice on the twenty-sixth, after they've wrapped up?

He couldn't bear to think that. Tears stung in the corners of his eyes, refusing to be dismissed by his palm or the back of his sleeve, and the tightness of pent-up anger gave way in an instant to a cold hard lump of dread. He really was alone.

Now what?

He turned to the road again. The bus had dropped him off near the edge of town, it seemed - how far had he really gotten from Amity Park? Where had he ended up? He didn't remember which line he'd taken, just that it had been the only one available to him, and he cursed himself out for it. How stupid are you? Out of all the days you could have picked to run off, you decided that the best time to do that was in the middle of the snow? Great going, idiot!

He held his mobile in one hand. It didn't like the cold; it had been at 66% earlier that afternoon, but had steadily dripped down to 27% within the span of an hour or two, and it skipped to 16% even as he stared down at it. You know no one's going to be able to come get you, right? said the sharp voice of guilt. You think even the Fenton RV could handle the roads like this? and that's assuming Mom and Dad quit arguing long enough to even answer if you call home. . .

He had to call anyway. He knew that much, even as his vision blurred around the edges and tears froze in the corners of his eyes. He slipped behind a line of shrubs to escape the wind, hit Home, and tried to collect himself as he waited for anyone to pick up.

Come on, please, I'm so sorry. . .

"Hello - ?"

"Mom? I'm so sorry please don't be mad I need you to - Mom?"

The mobile had died in his hand, but for a desperate moment he failed to process. "Mom. . .?"

Something in him cracked, and he stared down at the device. The screen was dark, and failed to respond to his touch, but it felt as if he'd been purposefully abandoned. Look what you've done. This is your fault. What are you gonna do now?

He didn't have an answer for that one. Don't stay out too late, kiddo, you'll freeze out there! He remembered his father saying that once, when he'd said he and Tucker were going to go out. That had been last year, in January after the fights were over and there was enough snow to go sledding. He remembered, too, that he'd had a second jacket then.

Would he really freeze?

He shoved the mobile back into his pocket. It hadn't been quite so cold earlier - how long had he already been out? There had been daylight for a while. An hour, maybe? That sounded about right. It always got dark early in December. Still, he'd have to find someplace to hole up. Maybe this town's Nasty Burger, or MacMeaty's - they'd still be open, probably, and they might even have a phone he could borrow.

That, and then he'd find out how far he'd gotten himself from home.

With a basic objective in mind, he set off again. So long as he was moving, the cold didn't seem so bad. The storm had relented, at least, and it didn't look to have snowed as badly as it had in Amity Park - but, out of familiar territory, he was lost. With only one direction to go, he kept along the side of the road in the hopes it would lead him into town.

The road led him through a stretch of trees, all heavy with snow and ice and bowing downwards, and he knew the rest of the town couldn't be too far ahead. The hazy yellow of the streetlights was cast into the sky somewhere to his left, and as soon as he spotted the path off the main road he took it. He hardly registered anything else until the pavement gave way to uneven dirt under the snow, and he paused; not city streets but a cemetery sprawled out before him, but he only hesitated for a second before treading onwards, ignoring his own superstitions. Graveyard, went his mind blankly in an effort to get the word to stick to something. It didn't.

The breeze shifted suddenly, and Danny stopped. It wasn't that the snow was going to pick up again - it appeared to have quit for the moment - but something was so awfully and so suddenly wrong that, for one perplexing instant, he was pulled out of coherent thought altogether.

Graveyard finally stuck.

Danny turned about himself. The only tracks in the snow were his, and without the snowfall everything around him was perfectly still. Why, then, could he so clearly feel the eyes upon him? Where were they coming from? Without meaning to, he cast his gaze downwards - have you stepped on someone? - but could discern nothing from the blanket of white beneath him. It was bad luck, he'd been told once, to tread on a body at rest. Had he just done that? He stepped back as if he had, although he couldn't really tell for sure. "Sorry," he mumbled, as if it was adequate, and felt stupid. Look at you by yourself in the dark, apologizing to someone who's already dead, who you probably didn't even step on anyhow. What, like they're going to care?

Ghosts, according to Danny, weren't real. That was a fact in his mind. Both of his parents had been ghosthunters for their entire careers, as far as he was aware, and neither one of them had actually seen one. If the anomalies did exist, surely one would have been caught by now?

What manifested before him, however, looked very much like how he imagined a ghost to look. It appeared, suddenly but without a sound, on one of the headstones still visible under the snow. Its body was cast predominantly in shadow except for two bright green eyes which were most definitely affixed on him. It was vaguely human-shaped, although Danny had to squint a little to see it; it was peering out at him from behind the stone, or at least that's what he thought it looked like it was doing, and when he stared it flinched back.

Ghost, went Danny's mind, and the sentiment stuck the first time. It couldn't have been real, and yet it was exactly like every explanation his parents had ever given him about one. Great. What does it want? Do you really have to deal with this too now?

The spirit - if that was what it really was - stared back in equal silence. Danny hadn't fled; emboldened somewhat, it crept upwards to peer over the top of the tombstone rather than from around the side. Its body remained mostly in shadow, and only when it moved were the white wisps of its fingers and hair visible against the backdrop of snow. It grasped the corner of the stone, as if looking over a tall countertop, and was still again. After a moment of deliberation, it finally spoke: (Lost?)

Danny hesitated. What could he reasonably expect to tell it - that he'd come out here by himself to get away from his parents and that he couldn't get back home? Nevermind, for the moment, that this was a genuine ghost. "What?"

(You didn't run) said the ghost, almost optimistically, eyes still on Danny. (How come?)

Danny stiffened. "Hey, wait a sec, what's it to you, anyway? Are you even real?"

The shadow slumped, and the eyes fell. (Yeah)

A small part of Danny was surprised at how quickly he'd accepted than answer - then again, he'd been told since infancy that the anomalies were real, and had only really rejected it out of spite for his parents - but that led to the pricklier questions. If ghosts were real then they were also dangerous (he'd been told that, too, countless times) and he was acutely aware that he was on his own. "What do you want? Don't you have anyplace to go terrorize, or is this it?"

The spirit met his gaze again. (Terrorize? Why would I - ?)

"Because that's what ghosts do," said Danny, "Probably. Look, no offense, or maybe some offense, but I didn't come here for you to show up and bug me."

(Then why did you come here?)

"Hey, that's none of your business," Danny snapped, refusing to acknowledge exactly how ridiculous it was that he was in a graveyard at night having an argument with a real ghost, "Go away."

The apparition's eyes flashed. (Why don't you go away? This is my spot. I was here first)

"Fine. Whatever." Danny jammed his hands an extra inch into his pockets, shoving the encroaching chill away and turning to stomp across to the other side of the graveyard. Stupid ghost.

The ghost, on the other hand, seemed to change its mind. (Wait, I didn't mean it - please come back)

Despite himself - you wanna freeze out here? - Danny turned.

The shadowy spirit wafted up from its place by the headstone and floated closer. In the air, Danny could make out the suggestion of its limbs, and the white fog of its hands and feet, but even when it faced him he couldn't distinguish any features aside from its eyes. (Please stay)

Danny wanted to run. Everything his parents had told him about ghosts was marching through his mind - they're dangerous, kiddo! you don't wanna face off against one by yourself! - and it had finally dawned on him what might happen if he didn't get into town. Despite that, he found he couldn't run. The spirit sounded desperate. Probably because it'll tear you apart as soon as it gets your guard down, snapped the relentless voice of his mother, but he shoved it away. What if it really was desperate? What if it needed his help?

What if it wanted to rip him to shreds instead?

The spirit's eyes dimmed, as if perhaps it was thinking about something, and when it asked its voice was slow and careful. (You're not okay, are you?)

Danny frowned. "How do you know that?"

(You didn't run) said the ghost, (everyone runs)

"Yeah, maybe both my parents are ghosthunters," said Danny, as if that might ward it off if it decided at any point to attack him, "Maybe you'd better leave me alone."

(You think I'm going to haunt you)

"I'm supposed to think you're not? I don't know you - didn't know you - ugh, you know what I meant. You're dead. I'm not. Ghosts haunt people. That's kinda their thing. Why would you not come after me? Why are we even having this conversation? I told you to leave me alone."

The ghost went silent for a moment. It slunk downwards onto the snow, huddling a little tighter against itself as if wrapping its arms around its knees. (I guess I thought maybe since you didn't run you wouldn't be scared of me. I just wanted someone to talk to)

"Don't you have - oh I don't know - ghost buddies or something for that?"

(They moved)

"Moved?"

(On)

Danny bit his tongue. The loneliness struck him again, just as mercilessly as it had before, but this time it wasn't his own. All of a sudden he felt foolish - is he really the only one that's lonely? - and he let all his breath out in a prolonged puff. "You're the only one left here, aren't you?"

The spirit nodded; despite that it only barely held a coherent form, the motion was clear.

"You're lonely."

(Aren't you?)

Danny recoiled as if struck. Of course you are. Lonely, lost, and real stupid. You did this to yourself, remember? He turned, dashing a palm under his eye as if the ghost wouldn't have seen it. "Maybe."

(Maybe?)

"Yeah," Danny snapped, although there was little anger he could muster. "You heard me. Look at you, asking all these questions - who even are you, anyhow?"

(Just a phantom) said the phantom, glancing back at the headstone from which it had appeared, (name's long gone)

"Just a phantom," Danny echoed, making the spike in his chest twist. You still wanna just leave him there by himself? He couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. Nevermind the cold - he wasn't going to abandon anybody that had no one left, even if it was someone who was already dead. "That's - that's really it, huh?"

(What about you?) the phantom asked, (you're still kicking. You've got a name, don't you?)

"It's Danny."

(Oh, I like that one) said the phantom brightly, sliding upwards a little, (you promise you'll stay?)

"Yeah. I mean - maybe. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but - I'm kind of in huge trouble. With everything. Ugh, I'm so stupid - "

(Tell me about it) the phantom ventured, (I mean, if you want to)

Danny sat with a soft crunch in the snow. Once it started to come out, he found, it suddenly became much easier. "I guess I did it to myself. Maybe I thought I wanted to be on my own, I mean I can't just keep listening to them argue like that, so I left, I thought it'd be easier, maybe it doesn't matter, but now I can't get back and it's so cold and it's my own fault I'm so stupid - "

(I don't think you're stupid)

"Look at me. I'm sitting here, in a graveyard, in the dark, talking to a ghost about my problems, which are my own fault to begin with," said Danny, one sob coming out instead as a sardonic laugh. "Sounds pretty stupid to me."

The phantom hesitated. After a moment it slid over to sit next to him, and its eyes brightened. (I don't think it counts unless you can't fix it)

"What are you talking about?"

(You're still breathing, aren't you?)

Danny felt like he'd struck a nerve somehow. "I didn't mean it like that - "

The phantom's eyes turned upwards. The snow had started up again; even in the past few minutes it had dusted Danny's hoodie with white, and if given another few minutes it might pick back up to the storm that had rendered Amity Park helpless. The phantom stared for a moment, and the snow paused. (Ice core) was the only explanation it offered, and its eyes turned upwards in what Danny could only assume to be a smile.

"You did that," said Danny, who was a second slower to process, "How'd you - ? I didn't know you could do that - "

The phantom nodded slowly. (Usually, it's only for a few seconds at a time. Closer it is to the solstice, though, sometimes I get a little leeway. Longer nights or something like that. I wasn't gonna question it)

"Huh."

The phantom rose abruptly, turning back and offering one wispy hand to Danny. (Can I show you something?)

Danny took the hand and flinched. The sensation was like ice, not physically tangible but piercingly cold, and he was pulled up to his feet as well. "Where are we going?"

The phantom kept Danny's hand. It floated higher, pulling him off the ground with it; he yelped, wide eyes darting back up to the shadow in the air, and his grip tightened. (Don't let go, okay?)

Danny wouldn't dare. "What are you doing - ?"

The phantom was smiling again, but wouldn't answer him. They both ascended over the ice-white treetops, and all of a sudden the town opened up below them through a yellow-white haze. (You said you were lost) said the phantom, (didn't you? Lost and lonely, same as me. I wanted to help)

Danny was silent. His mind had all but ground to a halt - the first time he'd ever seen a ghost, and the ghost had just plucked him up off the ground with no effort whatsoever. I wanted to help, it said. Weren't spirits like that supposed to do the opposite?

The phantom turned back to the town beyond the cemetery. (There's houses over on that side) it said helpfully, pointing with its free hand, (you think one of them's yours?)

"Well, I - " Danny forced his mind back into processing again, once he was very certain he wouldn't fall. He kept the phantom's hand tightly in his own, knowing that was the only thing keeping him up, and finally cast a glance across rooftops and streets below. "No," he said, "They're not. Look, I. . ."

(Oh jeez this is too much, isn't it? I'm sorry)

"No it's not that - I mean, don't get me wrong, this wasn't exactly what I was expecting to be doing tonight, it's kinda out-there, but - "

(I'm so sorry I swear I just wanted to help)

"Hey wait - no don't go down yet - you really can see pretty far from up here, can't you," Danny scanned the streets below, hoping to spot someplace that was still open. The cold was really starting to get to him, especially up in the open air - he couldn't quit shivering, and his fingers and nose had gone all but numb. Even his lips had begun to resist movement, and he had to be careful to articulate when he spoke. "I came in from that way," he spotted the road the bus had taken when he'd been dropped off, and gestured vaguely downwards. "Don't suppose you know how far Amity Park is from here?"

(You're cold)

"Well, yeah," said Danny, "But I gotta get home - "

The phantom's eyes widened, and it shook its head. (Not like that! Oh, man, you're still kicking, you have to stay warm, I forgot I'm so sorry) the phantom descended, taking Danny down too, and they both landed at the side of the cemetery.

Danny shoved both hands back into his pockets, although they wouldn't warm up entirely on their own. At least the wind's not so bad down here, and you know where the town is. You'll have better luck than you will out here, anyhow.

The phantom was unblinking. (That was my fault. I should have remembered. You have to be careful - when you're alive, I mean. Stuff can happen, I wasn't even thinking about it - )

"Hey, don't freak out. I'll be fine. So it's snowing a little. Big deal."

(Yeah but I don't wanna see you freeze out here, not on account of me, anyhow, you know - )

"Wait," said Danny, and asked before he could stop himself, "Wait is that - that's how you - well, you know - isn't it?"

The phantom didn't answer. Its eyes slid pointedly away form Danny's, opting instead to stare through the snow-laden trees. The distant rumble of a street-plow came and went, and the snowfall slowly started up again.

Now you've gone and done it. Should have kept your mouth shut, idiot. "I'm sorry." He let his breath out all at once. "I guess I shouldn't have asked you that. Please don’t be mad."

(You're really far from home, aren't you?)

Danny hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah. I am. I really screwed up this time. Look, no offense, I get that you wanted to help me out and all, but - I don't think this is something you can just fix, you know?"

(You're having troubles at home) said the phantom, (I think. That was what you said earlier, wasn't it? That’s why you came all the way here)

Danny nodded again. "Yeah. My parents have this stupid fight every year, and I said I wasn't gonna let it get to me this time but it did anyway. So of course like some kind of moron I thought maybe getting away from it all would have been just fine - "

(Well, you're the first moron I've talked to in a long time) said the phantom helpfully, (you can't be that bad)

Danny sighed. "Thanks. I guess."

(Besides, you don't have to be out here all by yourself either. I think we both kind of win, right?)

Danny frowned. "Not sure that's how it works? If I didn't run away then none of this - "

(Then you'd still be having a bad time, right? But just at home. And if you hadn't come out here then I'd still be having a bad time too. Like I said. We both kind of win)

"Well. I mean," Danny gave up. "Sure. Yeah."

(And you'd be sad if I left now, wouldn't you?)

"Yeah."

(Then I'm not going anywhere) said the phantom, and its eyes turned up again. (Consider yourself haunted)

Despite himself, and despite everything that had happened, everything he'd done, and that he was a mess standing at the edge of a graveyard in the snow with a ghost as his only companion a town or more away from home - despite it all, Danny laughed. Something in him released all at once; perhaps the coil of stress wound one tick too tight and snapped, or perhaps it was the realization that he wasn't on his own, not really, not so long as the phantom hung around, even if it couldn't help him on a tangible level. Haunted. It was so succinctly absurd, and so, so good to let everything else fall away. Before he fully realized he'd meant to, he'd reached over and taken the phantom's hand again. "Thanks. I guess I really needed that."

The phantom just smiled back. (You're really stuck with me now. How're you gonna get home otherwise? By yourself?)

Danny was somber again in an instant. "I don't know. Buses back to Amity don't start up again 'til morning. Phone's dead. Can't even ask anyone to come and pick me up."

(Well) the phantom turned back to the town beyond the trees. (Hm. Oh, hey, I wonder if some the gas stations are twenty-four hours? I think there's at least one. Maybe they'd have a phone you could borrow?)

"You think so?"

(Yeah. Come on. You thought flying was cool? Check this out) and without waiting for an answer it flew ahead, pulling him through snow and frozen trees and shrubs as if they didn't really exist. For the moment, they may as well not have existed, and the next thing Danny knew they'd come out in the back parking lot of what appeared to be a Denny's.

Danny turned back to the phantom. "What'd you do?"

(Shared) said the phantom, (thought it'd be faster than going around. Don't you think?)

"Yeah, but - " Danny paused, and then tried again: "I don't know, just - warn me next time? Phasing through solid objects isn't really as straightforward, you know?"

The phantom gave Danny what he assumed to be a half-hearted shrug. (Okay, but I think the place is a few blocks over from here)

Danny trotted ahead, following the sidewalk around the corner of the building and having a look across the front lot and down the road. "All I'm seeing is streetlights. I’m guessing you know this town better than me." He shot a look back to the phantom, expecting it to take the lead.

The phantom hesitated, but only for a moment. (The living don't really - you know, you don't see the dead wandering around most times, do you?)

"Wait, what're you getting at? You think I'm just gonna ditch you from here on out?"

(I'm just saying don't act all surprised) said the phantom. It was as if it was taking a deep breath; he materialized fully, finally allowing himself a face, and appeared in a simple jacket and black jeans. His eyes still carried their ethereal glint, but apart from that he appeared human - he shook his head briefly, sending his white hair flying, and then gave Danny a grin. "I get leeway, remember?"

"You're a showoff," said Danny, who had not known the phantom could manifest so clearly - so that's what his face looks like - and was not about to let him get off easy about it.

"What, I gotta go around looking like an oil slick all the time? Give a guy some credit, will you? Besides, you know what'd happen if people saw a shadow like me on the loose? They might call your parents. That's what."

Danny's gaze fell. "Right."

"C'mon," the phantom took Danny's hand as he passed, and led the way into the streets. Danny noticed, after a moment, that he was the only one leaving footprints behind - he also appeared to be the only one exuding clouds with every breath. That's because he's not breathing, stupid, he chided himself, duh. Still, something just seemed right about the phantom, and it wasn't only because it was the only other option to being on his own again.

For the life of him, though, he couldn't place the feeling.

The two of them stood in the parking lot outside the gas station. Sure enough, the lights inside were still on, and the sidewalk looked to have been shoveled fairly recently. That was probably for the best; the snow had gotten going in earnest, and Danny speculated it had probably caught up to them from Amity Park where the worst of it had been earlier. He trotted ahead, pausing with one hand on the door to turn back to the phantom. "You coming?"

"Yeah," said the phantom, "Just in time, too. You don't look so good. Told you you'd freeze."

Danny ignored that last comment, and ignored the numbness from his feet and the tips of his fingers, and pulled the door open. The single clerk behind the register looked bored, but it wasn't until Danny asked to borrow the phone that either he or the phantom were acknowledged at all. He took it, giving the clerk one of those awkward-thanks smiles, and took a deep breath.

You know you're gonna have to fess up, and you know it's probably Mom who's gonna answer.

Let her, if it means I can go home.

It only rang once; sure enough, it was his mother.

"Mom," said Danny, daring himself to keep his composure. Despite his best efforts, his voice splintered and he was crying. "Mom - look, I'm okay, I just - "

"I promise I'm fine"

"I know"

"Can you and Dad come get me"

"Please"

"No, I'm with a friend"

"Yeah"

"Okay"

"Hi, Dad"

"Yeah"

"Yeah, I'm okay"

"No"

"Okay"

"Love you too."

- - - -

"Phantom?"

The two of them sat on the curb, watching the snow and waiting for the Fenton RV to pull up. Danny's mother had said forty-five minutes; his father had promised fifteen.

"Yeah?"

Danny hesitated, knowing he probably wasn't going to get an answer he liked. "Don't suppose you'd wanna come back with me, would you?"

The phantom snorted. "You kidding? Your parents are ghosthunters, man. You said so. No offense, or maybe some offense, but like. Yikes."

"Yeah," said Danny quietly, "Thought so."

The phantom was silent for a moment, but then shifted to lean back on his hands. "You were right, though. Earlier."

"What?"

"When you asked how I died."

Danny turned to him, opened his mouth to protest - you shouldn't have to tell me if you don't want to - but the phantom put up a hand to keep him silent.

"It went pretty much how you think it did. Lemme tell you, dying really sucks. I don't know if it's like that for everybody, maybe I just got unlucky, but - I just didn't want you to end up like me, you know?"

"Hey - are you okay?"

The phantom turned skyward, doing his best to blink away the tears that dared to creep up into the corners of his eyes, but after a fruitless minute he swiped at them with the back of his wrist anyhow. "Look at this, you got me feeling stuff, I can't believe it. I'm almost as much of a wreck as you now."

"Hey," Danny protested halfheartedly, but knew there was little he could say in his own defense. He really had done it to himself; everything that had happened the whole evening had been more or less directly his own fault. That said, he was glad that the phantom had stuck with him. He wondered what might have happened if he'd been alone all night - no, he had a fairly good idea of what might have happened, and he didn't really want to find out for sure. Dying really sucks.

The phantom had recomposed himself, and stood as an excuse to stretch out. "Hey, s'that them?"

Danny followed the phantom's gaze - sure enough, a double pair of headlights had turned onto the road, visible even through the haze of snow. He rose to his feet, turning back to the phantom and giving him a final smile. "Thanks," he said, "for sticking with me. I guess I owe you one."

The phantom had his arms around Danny in an instant. The motion was on impulse; it took them both a second to realize what had happened, and a second after that for the phantom to feel Danny's arms around him in return.

"Don't forget about me, I mean it."

"I won't."

The headlights swerved into the lot, and the phantom faded into thin air. Danny was alone only for a moment before both of his parents burst out and immediately began to fuss. He let them; he knew he'd catch heat, but not until they got home, and he had until then to sort everything out.

I wanna see you again, he'd meant to say, but had been cut short, and now it was probably too late. He wondered, if he came back into town sometime, if the phantom would still be there. You think he's got anything better to do? said something in him, but that part was at war with the part that insisted why would he sit and wait around? just for you? aren't you a bit selfish to think that?

Was he, really?

- - - -

The phantom watched Danny go. Ghosthunters had sit ill with him since the living boy had mentioned them, and he knew he didn’t want to get involved. Who could blame him, really? He'd seen the kid off, and made sure he was alright. Now he could get back to. . .

. . . what, exactly?

Not much. That was what it amounted to. The phantom had, for most of the evening so far, been able to fend off the crushing loneliness of death. He was lucky - very lucky, considering that Danny hadn't fled at the sight of him, and luckier still that they'd gotten along. He should have counted it as a decent night. All had ended well.

The empty pit in his stomach, however, begged to differ.

Even if it had just been for one fleeting instant, just then, before he'd vanished into thin air so the hunters wouldn't have seen him, he'd felt alive again. Maybe it was the solid warmth of a living body, or maybe it was the assurance that, in that moment, he wasn't on his own.

Now Danny was gone, fading with the taillights of the RV as it turned a corner and disappeared altogether.

That pained him.

It pained him - now you're back to the usual, and isn't it horrible? - and it was too much. He burst into silent tears, alone and unseen in the parking lot of the only gas station in town that was still open. He'd never see Danny again.

Why didn't you go too?

He wished, beyond anything, that he could have gone, but he knew the hunters would have caught him if he'd dared show his face. He'd seen them coming, and he'd vanished before they'd gotten so much of a glimpse of him. Look at you. You let him slip through your fingers, and you know exactly why.

There were plenty of reasons why. Ghosthunters was only the first; I've never been out of town; finding him again would be such a long shot; everything I have is here; besides, maybe he'll come and say hi sometime; I don't even know how far it'll be.

Some small voice in his core grew sharp. You’re making excuses. You're just afraid to go. What's keeping you here?

That made the phantom pause. His grave had never been the most appealing place to hang out, but it was the only thing with his name on it (in theory, anyhow - a gang of vandals had seen to that once a few years back). What did he have left, when push came to shove?

Why didn't you go? You're just a scared kid, that's why. You thought you had it together, didn't you? Now you've missed your chance, and you get to go back to being alone. You did it to yourself.

You're a lot like him.

He'd turned down the only living being that had spoken to him in over a decade. How stupid was he? He wanted, more than anything, to take it back.

Quit making excuses.

He swiped the last of his tears away, and cast a glance skyward. Amity Park, Danny had mentioned. That must have been where he lived. The phantom had never been there before. In life, he hadn't traveled much.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

He ascended over the ice-covered trees and drifted for a moment in the air. From the height, he could see the town below, and he could see the cemetery where his grave and his dusty old carcass lay. Who needs that old thing, anyway, he thought, eyes tracing the smooth road carved out in white between the trees. I came in from that way, Danny said. It wasn't much to go on.

Wonder if I could fly all the way from here? Never done it. Might make it. Might not.

You never know.

This time of year - might get a little extra leeway.

#holiday truce #kiinotasha #Danny Phantom #fanfic

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hobimysun-shine · 5 years

Text

bts as billie eilish songs

I love both artist so much because they are so diverse, so driven and in love with their art, so here’s what my mind created at 2am when i actually gotta study for an exam, but anyhow, enjoy

Jeon Jungkook - Ocean eyes

“Can't stop thinking of your diamond mind Careful creature Made friends with time”

- color scheme: Venice lavender; purple rain; valor blue

- grey clouds, quiet ocean, salty air, cold sand, bare feet, long sweater, careful wind, watery eyes,

- angelic, naive, trusting, incapable of stopping emotions

- a feel of uncertainty for the future, because you still have so much to experience in life, it’s hard to know who to trust, where to go and what your tears mean, who you should give them to

- young love, pain

- it basically speaks of someone who is impressed by another human - love based on instinct and intuition, when you’re young you just feel things, even if you don’t know where these emotions come from (jungkook-namjoon relationship) ;

- trusting someone by the feeling you get around them, without being able to trust your common sense,

- have you seen jungkook’s beautiful, ocean, doe eyes ?? (if not, then wth you doin’ with your life))

Park Jimin - idontwannabeyouanymore

“I just wish you could feel what you say Show, never tell But I know you too well Got a mood that you wish you could sell

Tell the mirror what you know she's heard before I don't wanna be you anymore”

- color scheme: pale smoke; scotch mist; apple blossom

- cold air, morning dew, raindrops at the bottom of your window, the fabric softener your mom uses to wash your sheets, soft breathing on the side of your neck, white mirrors

- self-persuasion, self-critique, inner conflict, serenity, content, libra’s aesthetic approach

- if you have listened to lie and looked at the lyrics, you know why i chose this song for jimin

- you basically get the feeling that the person is speaking to himself in this song, trying to find an answer, as to why he puts himself through all these hardships, when he could break free from this vacuum of perfectionism he created for himself

- let’s be real, we all know what jimin had to go through and maybe is still going through with being too harsh on himself, with his body image and his appearance on stage, i hope he is doing well now and is content with himself, cause he is a 100/10 and we all love him so much

Kim Taehyung - hostage; my boy

“I wanna be alone Alone with you - does that make sense? I wanna steal your soul”

“ My boy's an ugly crier but he's such a pretty liar”

- color scheme: concord purple; red wine; aurum gold

- big windows, night sky, city view, studio apartment, dark walls, smell of acrylic paint, ripped jeans with that paint splattered on them, acoustic guitars on the walls, quiet jazz music, film paper smoke, deep laughter, strong arms around your waist

- artistic freedom, no fear of judgement, mutual understanding, chest butterflies, assurance, hope, soulmates, in tune with your emotions, who cares if the world doesn’t get us, we get us

- hostage just reminds me of two people, who connect on a soul level so much, that what happens is their love turns into mutual engagement, similar to keeping each other as hostages in their hearts, however i wanted to turn the meaning of that song less toxic for taehyung,,

- i believe that if there’s a member that would want to connect with people in such level as the song suggests, it would be taehyung

- as for my boy, idk it just gives me a similar base line as in singularity, and i don’t know it’s just probably my fave song of billie and i feel like it is just taehyung’s vibe when i listen to it

Jung Hoseok - bellyache

“ Everything I do the way I wear my noose Like a necklace I wanna make 'em scared like I could be anywhere Like I'm wreck-less

I lost my mind I don't mind “

- color scheme: marigold yellow; apricot orange; candy red

- summer heat, tan skin, blushed cheeks, endless roads, loose shirts, scratched knees, rich kids away from home, one backpack and a shiny red ford convertible from your bf’s dad’s garage, loud music, lips, swollen from kissing, night fireworks

- fed up with everything, escape from reality, that one summer you will never forget, vibrant love, point of no return, rhythm, gut intuition, boldness

- i don’t know exactly either, it’s just these are the connections i make when i hear this song, and all of that screams hobi to me (aries moon)

- also am i the only one who imagines he would make a killer dance routine to that song (but again he could probably dance to a water drops going down a pipe, so,,)

Namjoon - bury a friend; copycat

“What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me? What are you wondering? What do you know? Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me? When we all fall asleep, where do we go? “

“ Perfect murder, take your aim I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name”

- color scheme: pearl river; silver fox, steel wood

- empty stage, burning projectors slowly being turned off, microphone heavy in your hand, as the words that went though it start to make sense, sweaty hair, footsteps echoing in the vast space, feeling of falling down, unexpected, but comforting hug, security, the calming scent of someone you know in this new environment, tears of fear and excitement at the same time, new life, new beginning

- words said out loud, revenge, mixed feeling of content and fast approaching emptiness, always racing thoughts, insomnia, trying to fill a void, searching for an overall meaning,

- so bury a friend is just has all these questions man. they remind me of rm’s mind. i feel like all of them are things he had already asked himself, or themes he implies in his songs too

- copycat is for namjoon swiftly leading a group that got a ton of criticism in the beginning and is still getting hate, but regardless he manages to stay on top, write what he feels, be a real artist and throw everything people said about bts failing back at their faces

Min Yoongi - lovely ; you should see me in a crown

“Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here Even if it takes all night or a hundred years Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear”

“ You should see me in a crown I'm gonna run this nothing town Watch me make 'em bow One by one by, one”

- color scheme: marble white; smoke ember; royal silver;

- dark room, cold hands, shaky breath, unable to look at each other’s eyes, fear of the outside and the inside, pocket money, long fingers pressing the out-of-tune piano keys, weary smiles, small steps

(....)

steady hands, marble walls, scent of freshly printed documents, looking through a box of old photo albums your mom sent, turning the pages a larger hand stops you from flipping the next page, two teenagers than look awfully like you two are staring back fearfully, low chuckles, eyes full of love

- strong minds, growth, stability, strength, control, prosperity, hard work, passion, ambition

- lovely is in here because i feel like it portrays struggles with mental health and depression very well. you feel trapped and you feel like there is no one else who understands your personal hell and you are the only one who has to find a way for yourself to get out of that place. yoongi has been in such places before as we’ve heard from him and his lyrics, so i though lovely represents his struggles when he was younger

- you should see me in a crown. literally that’s all i can say, he worked for his success and he got it and he deserves it and he is killing it right now

- yall don’t know the amount of respect i got for this man and everything he has been through and i feel like these two songs portray his lowest and his highest in life and take account every struggle along the way and how he truly deserves everything he has right now

Kim Seokjin - when the party’s over

“ Don't you know I'm no good for you I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Don't you know too much already I'll only hurt you if you let me

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that”

- color scheme: night snow, onyx black, muddy grey

- smell of liquor, messy steps, blurred vision, flood of thoughts, the darkest time of the night, dried streams of tears on your cheeks, your boyfriend’s hand quietly holding yours, but them you have to split ways, walking alone on the dead street, cold wind air hitting your face, but you find comfort in it, you reach home, but you can’t seem to go in; so you sit on the sidewalk, looking down; you hear distant steps; he sits down in the snow next to you; the sky slowly, but surely becomes lighter

- quiet sadness, deeper understanding of the world, human relationships seem harder, yet simpler, timeless feeling, a sense of maturity

- this song is just a masterpiece. hear me out, i don’t think i would understand this song as well as i do now, if i have listened to it a few years back. I would have been like “oh yeah it’s sad”

-But like. no. It’s not just sad. It’s a song that shows so much maturity and experience with life that first of all, idk how billie is so young and is able to create music like that. Second of all i don’t think anyone else of bts would fit better to it, than jin

- people tend to overlook his deeper emotions because he tends to distract from them, he always acts “silly” and tells jokes, but i feel like in songs like epiphany and awake we can see that jin really sees the world and his abilities from a much more mature point of view than other members. And i get the same vibe from billie’s song, so i feel like it would fit best for jin.

So actually this was way longer than i planned, but yeah, this is just strictly my opinion and it was just an idea i had at 3am now, as i said, hope it’s fun to read :))

im off to bed, because i’m so sleep deprived i will start hearing colors soon

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sunsoakd · 6 years

Text

she hasn’t stopped staring at him. he looks past her, at a tiled mosaic on the wall. he feels the sand in his shoes, in his hair. and then she picks the book up, only to put it back down again. “if you got it for me i don’t want it.”

there is ZERO tbv content on this site but i wrote a little piece! published at ang @katrinaslenk ‘s request !!

2 weeks after

he comes in with a book, hair stuck wet to his face by the august heat. his pants whip softly in the winds, and he stands there at the door of the cafe, almost tentative. she doesn’t look up for a good while.

“you’re late,” she says, in hebrew, obviously, when she finally notices him. and then she’s right back to the tables, moving the rag in the same circles she always does. it’s almost mesmerizing.

“i went to the library.”

“mm?”

“i took the bus.”

“mm.”

“i’ve been…” papi stops. he doesn’t know what she’d say if he told her, and even then he doesn’t want to make her feel anything more than what she already does. so all he does is gently set the book down on the counter where the pastries are and wait for her to look at it. if she chooses to look at it.

and she does, eventually, touches the worn paperback cover with a gentle, quaking hand. it looks like it might have, once, been a textbook. arabic for beginners. she looks at him for a long time then, her eyes squinting in that way they sometimes do. almost like she’s upset with him, but not quite.

“why?”

she knows why. he knows she knows why. so he doesn’t tell her. all he says is, “when i went to check it out the lady said, ‘are you a politician?’ and i said ‘no.’ and she said, ‘why do you have this, then?’ and i said, ‘because i’m not a politician.’ and i thought she would laugh, but she didn’t.”

“i…” it wasn’t for her. not initially, at least. it wasn’t until he was riding back to town, flipping through the introduction and the alphabet and the basic grammar when he realized that maybe he didn’t get it for himself. “it’s for me.”

“so why did you show me?”

“didn’t have...time to put it away before my shift.”

“hmph.” she smiles for a millisecond. then, without looking at him: “well, you were late anyway. might’ve been better to put it away while you were at it.”

“i know. i’m sorry.”

“you left me to deal with the hordes of customers all by myself.” and they both smile, and he thinks maybe they’re back to normal.

later, after dinner hour is over and the regulars have done their ins and outs, she will look over at the book again, now resting in the back corner where the waiters leave their bags and their coats. she almost walks over to it, almost picks it up and flips through just to see. just to see if there’s something she can learn quickly, a “how are you.” a “where are you from.” she doesn’t. instead, she pulls her hair out from her ponytail and begins to tie it back again when papi catches her staring.

“are you still thinking about it?”

“about what?” she keeps not looking at him. “the book?”

and he doesn’t know what to say. so he just repeats the question. are you still thinking about it, dina.

“the– oh, that? why would i still be thinking about it? it wasn’t very important.” she is talking very fast.

“no,” he says. “i suppose it wasn’t.”

a beat, a breath. the wind whips the sand through the open door. “why; are you still thinking about it?”

and all he does is look at the clock and pick up the book and leave.

she goes home after that, because what else is there to do. she goes home and she puts her bag down and she takes off her shoes and she turns on the radio and she waits. but the song isn’t very good, some new israeli pop song in half-english and so she turns it off. it is very quiet. it is usually very quiet, but she is noticing it more and more these days.

and in the end she reaches into the bag she takes to work and takes out the newspaper and flips through it and thinks about the book papi had brought in. she hadn’t liked it, and she can’t place why. maybe it was just the fact that he was late to work, had thought a nine a.m. bus ride to the nearest town had been more important than his job. but it hadn’t even mattered all that much anyway, in the end, because no one really came to lunch. she’d served two women coffee. and itzik was there, anyhow. he’d washed the dishes.

so she wasn’t mad at papi for missing work. and she couldn’t have been mad at him for the book, it was impossible. someone told her, once, that a book is a good thing to have.

he’d said he hadn’t gotten it for her, and she doesn’t know whether or not she prefers it that way. tomorrow, she wagers, she’ll ask him how to say hello.

except he’s late again that next day, comes in sweating again, his shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his stomach.

“library again?” he hates how she doesn’t look at him when she does this. but then, she has tables to clean.

“can we turn on the record player?” is all he says in return.

so she does, plugs it into the wall and sets it atop the pastry counter where the book had gone yesterday. he takes a record out of its sleeve and places the needle down gently, but not fast enough. it slips, and it’s three seconds before they hear the music.

“what’s this?”

he turns the record over. “it’s called autumn leaves,” he says.

“none of those here.” but she listens, really listens. the album has a picture of a blue sky on it, one solitary cloud. trees, yellow and brown and all sorts of colors. “pretty,” she says, of the music, or of the art, or of both of it. “why’d you get it?”

and he shows the name to her and she laughs, and she understands. “keep it playing,” she says. and she can’t even be mad at him for being late.

the two hours between lunch and dinner crawl on, and this time the three of them pass the time because itzik had brought a deck of cards with him. papi gets up to flip to the b side and they all listen to it crackle, to the vinyl in the heat. he sits back down, deals a new hand.

“learn any more arabic?” she says, and he stops. he hadn’t thought she’d talk to him about it.

“a little.”

“tell me something.” a beat. “well?” she and itzik look at him in anticipation.

he gets up again, runs to the back room. he’d brought the book back with him, hadn’t known why. until now. he opens it to one of the first pages. “sabah alkhyr,” he says.

“what’s that mean?”

“just, uh. it just means good morning, it was the first…”

“no, no, it’s nice. your accent is pretty good, too.” she’s smiling at him. “you could use it to impress that girl…”

“who, julia?” dina nods. “nah, she was just...i mean, we went out maybe once, after…” itzik gets up to go wash dishes. the two of them watch him leave and papi continues. “i just don’t really know how to, uh.” he makes a sort of motion with his arms that makes dina laugh, and he looks down at the table. “i mean, i only really know how to...do a couple things. i’m not too good at flirting, you know?”

“what do you mean, a couple things?” she puts her hand down faceup, a straight flush.

“can i show you?” she nods, so he moves his chair next to hers and stretches his arm out and wraps it around her shoulders and tries to look cool and fails. he touches her knee and stays there for a moment except then his back starts to hurt and he’s fairly sure he doesn’t smell very good what with the midday sun pounding down on him on the walk from the bus stop. so he gets up and moves his chair back. “and i already did that once before. i don’t think girls like it too much when you do the same thing twice.”

she laughs, again, and the record stops. papi puts it back in its sleeve and itzik comes back into the dining area and by then it’s almost four, so they start clearing up the cards.

they’re putting the record player back in its closet when dina turns to papi and says, “when you get better at arabic, can you translate something for me?” she stops, blinks. she hadn’t meant to say it. she’d just been thinking it, kind of in the back of her head. she doesn’t know if she even wants to know what it means.

one word, though. that couldn’t ruin it, could it? it had been stuck in her head as soon as she’d heard it. and she could always turn it down once papi came back with the translation.

so she picks up one of the waiters’ pads of paper and a pen and she says “write down for me what it means when you find it” and she puts the word down from memory in broken, phonetic hebrew: איתגארא. or something like that, anyway.

he looks at it. “is this…” he doesn’t know how to say it. “is this from that...night?”

she closes the closet door and leans up against it, crosses her legs and her arms at once. she looks down. all she says is, “i’d never felt...like that, before.”

“you mean, that night.” she nods. “like...like what?”

and she shakes her head, leads him back into the main room. “like...music, i guess.”

“how can it make you…?” he stops. he doesn’t need to know. this was her thing, and she was entrusting him with it. that was enough. so he tries again: “i’ll find out, for you,” he says. “once i’m better.”

she smiles, real. “thank you.”

and so he checks out all the books he can and learns as much as is possible with just shouting conversations at the wall, or at dina when she isn’t busy, or at itzik that one night when he’d invited papi over for dinner, which had been nice of him. the lady at the library thinks he is strange, all these books on arabic and old jazz records hoisted under his arm almost every day now.

and then, of course, he finds the book of poetry.

it’s a small, leather-bound copy, maybe from the 50s. he can’t understand most of what they mean but he flips through it anyway, sounding out the words quietly in this abandoned aisle of the library.

until he comes to a word he knows.

the piece of paper is still in his pocket, kept there for reference, every time he comes here. he still doesn’t really know what it means, but he hopes he can extrapolate.

and so he finds a pencil, writes some simple phrases on the back of the sheet she’d given him – something about drinking. about the moon and about joy and about honey. she’d like the part about honey, he thinks.

so back to the cafe with the piece of paper and the poetry book in tow. he sticks the translation in where the poem is as a bookmark, hands it to her as he walks in. “i found it,” he says.

“you…? oh. oh.” she doesn’t open it, doesn’t want to. something in her stomach drops beneath the floor into the sand beneath them. she wants to know, she does. but part of her just wants it to stay a secret. part of her hates herself for breaching whatever it was between her and…

she puts the book in her bag. “i’ll open it later. okay?”

he nods. “okay.”

and she does, reads through the shaky translation three, four times before she starts crying. she likes the part about the honey.

she looks at the clock in her darkened apartment and realizes it is very late. she folds the paper in half, sticks it back in the book, lays the book on her bedside table. she thinks to turn the radio on, doesn’t. instead, she wipes her eyes, looks at her hands. holds her arms out relaxed in front of her at shoulder height and sways, but not for long. she has work in the morning. there are things to be done. she asks herself, in those brief seconds before she turns the light out, how one might go about drinking moonlight. she figures there is one person who knows.

“maybe,” she says, though not out loud, “i’ll ask him when i see him again.” she doesn’t even realize what she’s said until she’s said it. and so what – she’d never liked the word “if,” anyway.

she puts her arms down.

#my writing #katrinaslenk #the band's visit

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deeafrotailmisstress · 6 years

Text

Tumbling off Trees

((A short RP I had with @majros-mishaps ages ago, hope you guys enjoy reading it! If the ending seems a bit abrupt it’s because towards the end I had to quickly leave ‘cause of late night issues but hope you guys enjoy it regardless! <3))

Majro Skyfern never was one much for hikes in the past, but these days, civilization seemed too stifling. The wilds around The Pier were too familiar, and anyway, who wants to hide outside the place they technically work? This place was infinitely more welcoming. He could get lost here, which is what he wanted to do. He even had found himself humming softly to himself until a sound unlike the chirping of the local wildlife caught his ear. He fell silent looking about himself uneasily.

Jazz let out a defeated sigh and hung upside-down again. She glared at her effects below her that had fallen upon her entrapment; she just HAD to set off one of her own traps on the day she decided to not wear her machetes.

“Take the day off Olka said…” Jazz grumbled as she crossed her arms glaring at her bag down below, “It’ll be fun, just take a walk and jam some tunes, Olka said.” Indeed her uke lay uselessly beside her stuff, but she doubted the instrument would help either. She blinked however when she spotted a passerby and gasped excitedly. An Aurin! They were usually super helpful right?

“Ey! Ey buddy!” Jazz stuck both her index fingers in her mouth and let out a loud whistle before waving her arms wildly, “Up here fella!”

Majro’s ear satellites this way and that. If he was a hunter worth a damn he’d have pinpointed the source by now, but the whistle made it impossible to mistake the direction. He lifted his head and tilted it as he regarded the swinging human with a blink.

“...You sure are, ma’am. Looks like I found the best hangout spot in the forest huh?” He approached, tail twitching in tentative curiosity. Jazz’s smile brightened, looking quite silly as she dangled with a happy grin and her limbs swinging in the air. But she was just happy somebody finally spotted her!

“Indeedy! D’az why I been ‘hangin’ around here’ so much!” She snorted at her own joke, but quickly shook her head and grabbed her hands at him. “Ya mind grabbin’ my effects there friend? I just need one o’ my stabbies ta knick offa dis rope!” She pointedly looked down at her belongings on the boulder beneath the stranger.

Majro looked down toward the aforementioned effects, then back up towards the human. “Is that...er. A good idea?” He peered downward at the base of the tree, which was very far down below the woman, “Might be kinduva crash landing. How’d you get up there, anyhow?”

“Um...Jazz did a thing and the rope don’t like humans.” Jazz ambiguously explained while her eyes glanced everywhere but at he Aurin as she didn’t want to admit the silly mistake she made.

She glanced down at the tree bass and scrunched up her nose at it before she waved a hand, “Bah, fuck it, what don’ kill ya only make ya more badass, amiright?” She smirked and proceeded to swing excitedly at the Aurin “Effeeects, c’mon gimme somet’in’ sharp at least dude!”

The Aurin chuckled and moved towards the items before kneeling down, “Sooomething, huh? Sure it wasn’t something you weren’t supposed to be doing? Don’t figure the property owners take kindly to poaching or anything like that.” He cast a cheeky look to the human, even as he continued to rifle and sift. “...suppose it’s none o’ my beeswax either way.”

Jazz puffed up her cheeks indignantly and looked away “Oi I ain’ gotta explain what I been doin’ ‘round here. An’ it weren’t like dere was any signs saying ‘Yo, ju ain’ allowed ta grab any snackings off da animals here!’ so I figured first come first serve!” She tried to swing forward again to see if he found any of her knives in there but tilted her head in a bewildered manner as she asked “Bees...wax? Well Jazz ain’ too sure where dose are, but I sure dey can be yours, don’t see anybody else claimin’ em!...Just keep dem away from me please, Jazz don’ like bees.”

The redhead shrugged a shoulder, his tail curling thoughtfully, “Guess you got a point there. They might even want help with keeping the wildlife back anyway, can’t build on top of a bunch of angry malverines yeah?”

He seemed to find what he was looking for, his ears perking upward in recognition. “Oh yeah no, that makes two of us, really. Can you blame us though? Their stingers are as long as my slagging arm.” He gives a visible shudder, and holds up the machete over his head for her approval. “Think this’ll do the trick?”

“ASS-CRACKER!” Jazz cheerfully cried out the name of her blade and nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah yeah, just throw him o-” Before she could finish the sentence Jazz thought over the horrible results of what could happen if her new acquaintance didn’t throw it properly. There was a silent moment before she sheepishly asked, “Uh...ya reckon ya could bring it on over here? Hehe…”

The little Aurin mouthed to himself worriedly “Ass...cracker?” But then smiled amusedly when he realised it was the name for the blade, “Ya give all your things names like that?” After Jazz’s second suggestion, his tail grabbed onto the handle of the blade before he started to climb up the trunk as he asked “Ya got a name ma’am?”

Jazz couldn’t help how she stared at the intriguing use of his tail. Truth be told she had seen Aurin from afar, but never really interacted with them much outside of passing, so it was always fascinating for her to watch their new quirks. At his question Jazz nodded brightly, “Mmhmm! Each o’ my stabbies got names, includin’ me fists!”

She tried to wave up at the fellow as he climbed, but it was awkward due to the upside-down position. “Da name’s Jazz! Friends call me Jazzy or Shorty, enemies call me little shit, but ya can taaaa-okay Jazz doin’ a spinny, I can’t see ya.” She tried to wiggly around but she currently found herself rotating on the rope slowly.

Majro grinned, “Hopefully those fists won’t ever have MY name on ‘em!” He reached a height where he thought he would be in range to hand over the knife, and his tail rose carefully towards his waiting hand. His grip on the tree faltered a bit as the transfer happened, but he managed to hold on.

“Pleasure to meetcha, Miss Jazz. Name’s Majro. Majro Skyfern.” He began to extend the knife toward her, handle first, but recoiled a bit as she span. “Oh that’s...that’s no good.” The blade was placed between his teeth, and he reached out with his free hand to steady the rope. Then he realized, “...Thish ish worsh.” He looked back toward the tree with worry.

“Majro Skyfern? D’az an awesome name!” Jazz felt him nearby and tried to lean over once the rope started to spin towards the Aurin again, but found herself stuck. “Eh? Wa’z happenin’ over dere Majro?!” Jazz called out and tried to yank herself to him again, but ended up accidentally pulling Majro away from the tree.

“OH SHI-!” She cried out in panic and quickly grabbed onto his arm to make sure he didn’t fall, “Sorry sorry I t’ought ju was done!”

Majro gave a somewhat undignified shriek around the knife as what remained of his grip slipped free of the bark. He seemed destined to make a great splat onto the ground below, but Jazz’s grip on his arm saved him. For that moment, anyhow.

“Noh noh. Thash -” His now free-hand removed the blade from his mouth. It probably didn’t have much slobber on it. Probably. Poor Ass-cracker. “...that’s my bad. This never was my best event in boot camp, come to think of it.” He did his best to lift the machete’s handle towards the human again, “Think you can manage it with one hand? You can let me fall, I wouldn’t blame ya.”

“O’course I can do dis with one arm, I ain’ been buildin’ deez guns for nothin’! Jus’ hold on to my belly an’ I’ll grab the blade!” Jazz sounded almost offended that he even had to ask, but she simply lifted the Aurin up with one arm, grunting with effort while doing so, and waited for him to do as instructed before grabbing the blade.

She started to whack away at the rope until it snapped and jolted them lower suddenly, making Jazz gasp out in shock. Well. Too late to back out now. Her eyes widened as she remembered this time she had a passenger with her in this fall and before the rope finally snapped, Jazz quickly threw the blade down and braced an arm around Majro. She warned him with an awkward smile, “Uh...sorry about dis next part.”

She rapidly grabbed onto the Aurin and wrapped all her limbs around him before they plummeted.

Majro did as she asked, clinging onto the human for dear life. “Don’t you worry ‘bout lil’ ol’ me! We got dis! It’s gonna be-” The downward shuddering of the rope put an end to whatever platitude he was in the middle of crowing, “...well, I was gonna say ‘alright’, but.” He clung tighter. “I’m sorry too.” He screeched pretty much the whole way down as the rope finally gave way.

Somehow, he possessed the presence of mind to send an arc of espernetic energy sparking at his hands, but he couldn’t formulate the thought quickly enough. His attempt to cushion their landing with espernetics fizzled before it fully took form.

Jazz didn’t bother screaming and instead squinted her eyes shut as she braced for the painful impact and encircled the poor panicking Aurin. Luckily for the both of them Jazz’s instincts came out in a blaze, quite literally, as the ball of tangled limbs was inflamed with espernetic fire that took all the damage from the first bounce against a large root. Both Majro and Jazz ended up rolling quickly into a soft flower bed before they slowly halted to a stop, the flames having long dissipated.

Jazz hesitantly blinked her eyes open and let go of Majro as she stared incredulously up at the sky. She let out a small titter. Then a giggle. Which grew into a relieved chuckle and then a loud chortle as she heaved with laughter.

Majro’s eyes squeezed shut as they hit the tree root, a hiss of alarm escaping him. Blue sparks continued to dance about his arms and hands as they continued to roll, trying to formulate some kind of cushion to prevent them from hitting whatever’s coming next as hard as they hit the first stop. The runway however was a great deal softer than he expected. He cracked an eye open, then another. As Jazz pulled away, he sat up, looking not up to the sky but to the ground around them. The human’s laughter proves contagious, and before long, he’s cackling right along with her. He flopped onto his back as he ran out of breath, petals flying up in his wake.

“Hee hee DUDE! WE’RE ALIVE!” Jazz cried out with glee and raised two middle fingers into the air in victory as she roared with a grin “SUCK IT GRAVITY! HAHA!” Jazz felt so buzzed from the rush of the fall that she couldn’t help but start rolling around on the grass still laughing, albeit now at a smaller and quieter level. She didn’t notice the little firework espernetics that shot out as well from her excitement.

Majro’s arm shot upward out of the grass, a single fistpump, for great justice. “Slag yeah! Trees thought they were taking us down, but not this time!” He boasted, blowing away a petal that had settled on his nose before pulling himself back up to a sitting position. He looked over towards Jazz, “Pretty sure I owe my head not being split like a melon to you, ma’am. Thanks for the save. You all right? Need any healing or anything?” He lifted a hand, faint blue light at his palm flickering to gold and back to blue a few times before holding steady. As he spied the fireworks she gave off, his hand lowered, “Or...maybe you got it covered.” He added softly.

Jazz’s laughter finally simmered down as she heaved, “Oh...Oh sorry boy gimme a sec, I jus- I’m excited!”

She giggled one last time before sitting up and tried patting down all the flora that got tangled in her curls that grew wilder amidst her rolls. “Nah, no need ta thank me when you was da one who got me Ass-cracker from the bottom!” She gasped when she saw his hand flicker gold, “Oooh! Ju got the esp-y things too?! That’s awesome!”

Majro favored the human with a warm grin, a hand lifting to rustle grass and petals from his own hair as she got her bearings. His hand reached around to the back of his head, stopping short seemingly in surprise before his claws fell, returning to the grass behind him. He still wasn’t used to having short hair yet.

Her comment regarding espernetics set him to curling the offered hand back towards himself sheepishly, one hand wringing the other. “Heh, yeah, more like I try to, anyway. Usually pretty good at doin’ stuff that hurts, but the stuff that makes the hurting go away...eh. Not my strong suit. I’d be willing to try though, if ya needed it!” He crossed his legs, patting his pockets as though looking for something.

The human followed his hands with a thoughtful gaze, not really melancholic but not quite fond either. She didn’t really feel like explaining the complications behind her espernetics so Jazz hugged her knees to herself as she simply shook her head smiling, “Nah, Jazz been hurt worse than a stupid tree. It’s how I got dis after all!” She poked the tip of her broken nose with a wink before she patted his knee “But t’anks for helpin’ me out fella! Ya sure didn’t have to do that since you was busy with...with…”

She blinked, “...what were ya doin’ ‘round these parts?”

Majro’s ears flattened slightly, and a nervous chuckle escaped him. “I...dunno, actually. Whole lotta nothin’, if I’m honest.” He found what he was looking for, a chron, somehow miraculously still in one piece. He tapped it to life, “Just...getting fresh air, I guess. Nothing as interesting as fighting rope like you were haha.”

Jazz crossed her arms defensively, “Eyy, I said I wasn’t lookin’ for rope I was jus’...doin’ somet’in’ else. Y’know. Oh shit speakin’ o’ which!”

She bounced up onto her feet and checked the time before grinning, “I oughta be headin’ back to my friend, she’s probably expectin’ me by now!” Without warning she grabbed the Aurin up into a brief hug snickering, “I see ya later Maj-bro!”

She dropped the Aurin unceremoniously before taking off into a quick jog while waving over her shoulder, poor Majro left bewildered on the grass with petals in his hair again.

#dee writes #wildstar #exile #oc #jazz #jasmine abernale #majro skyfern #majro #majros-mishaps #ocs #aurin #human #exiles #wildstar rp #wsrp #rp

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fireandgloryrpg · 6 years

Photo

Congratulations PJ and welcome back! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Dorian Rhoads with the faceclaim of Grant Gustin in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

!! tw: death mention !!

Out of Character Information:

Name: PJ

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 20

Timezone: EST

Activity: I do work full time and I typically work the afternoon shift, so most of the time I’ll be able to get on either in the morning or early afternoon but the bulk of my activity will be at night, typically after 10:30-11 PM. On my days off, however, it’s fair game.

Original Character Application:

Name: Dorian Rhoads

Age and Birthday: 23; 11/11/94

Faceclaim: 1) Grant Gustin 2) Dacre Montgomery

Heritage: Son of Apollo (Roman)

ABILITIES: Enhanced reflexes, peak archery ability, photokinesis

Affiliation: First Cohort

Headcanons:

1) Dorian has been writing and playing music since he was in the first grade. It started out in his music class playing the recorder, as he began to write simple melodies, and continued into middle school when he picked up the saxophone in the school band. He worked with his band director to start feeling out other instruments, having an insatiable desire to learn as much as he could about not only the rudiments of playing as many instruments as he could get his hands on, but also composition and theory. By the time he graduated high school, he’d picked up the saxophone, clarinet, various percussion instruments, guitar, piano, and he’d even joined the school choir.

2) Dorian’s fighting style consists almost exclusively of playing defensively. Being naturally agile, his strategies revolve around wearing down his opponents by dodging and dipping around their attacks until they get tired out, at which point he shifts to offense. In close range combat he prefers twin Pugio and the occasional Gladius, and for long range combat he arms himself with a bow and arrows.

Biography:

!! tw: death mention !!

Dorian was always a kind soul. From the day he was born he was always smiling at people, some he’d never even met before. His parents taught him that whatever he put out into the world would eventually come back to him, so he did everything he could to be a good person. Most of the time he’d translate whatever positive energy he had into music and lyrics, having been playing the guitar as well as many other instruments from a young age.

Dorian was born in Greenpoint, New York and moved to Queens when he was five. He lived a middle class life, taking what was given to him and not taking any of it for granted. Growing up his mother was a massive influence on his music taste, driving him to pick up a guitar and countless other instruments. It was odd actually, the fact that he could pick up any instrument and gain a loose grasp on how to play it within an hour. Something about making music brought him a feeling of joy that nothing else in his life had. It started out with the guitar but by the time he’d gotten to middle school and he’d been introduced to their symphonic band, his repertoire expanded to include the saxophone, percussion, and even the piano in the jazz band. By high school he’d been recognized by the school’s band director as one of, if not the, most talented musicians they’d encountered in years.

By the time he graduated high school he’d filled six different notebooks with various pieces of music written for various instruments. It was clear that he had a gift, and the representatives at Berklee College of Music had certainly taken notice of that. Dorian himself had heard nothing but good things about the school from his band director with whom he’d grown extremely close to over the years and it quickly became his dream school. The interview and audition processes were a breeze for him and it wasn’t long before he could consider himself an official student of Berklee College of Music in the class of 2016, majoring in Contemporary Writing and Production.

The Summer before his first year at Berklee, however, it seemed fate had other plans for Dorian’s future. A vacation to San Francisco with his mother and stepfather seemed like exactly what the family needed before Dorian would be shipped off to school, but the reality was that it was the decision that would prove to be their undoing. They decided to take a hike up Land’s End, a seemingly harmless idea for a little family fun, but it wouldn’t be long before things took a turn for the worse. To any passersby, it would look like the family had stumbled upon a mother bear at the wrong time, but Dorian saw a completely different scene. A hulking Minotaur burst through the trees and claimed the lives of his parents before sending Dorian over a cliff, plunging him to a watery grave. When he made contact with the water everything went black, and in what seemed like minutes he found himself in an infirmary in an unknown location. When the doctors noticed that their patient had finally come to, they were quick to run to his bedside. He had more questions than they’d ever have time to answer, but the answers he did receive weren’t ones he wanted to hear. His parents were dead. Killed by a beast Dorian had never even seen before. He was only alive by the grace of the gods, as they told him. He was brought to where he resided, Camp Jupiter, by the Roman god Apollo, Dorian’s birth father. It was so much more than he could ever process, and the days that followed were some of the hardest of his life. His entire world had been turned upside down, his future in shambles.

Once he’d finally been able to regain his bearings, he met with the Praetor and discussed his options. It was then that he decided to remain at Camp Jupiter to embrace his demigod heritage and train in the Legion, vowing to train as hard as he could in an effort to never again allow a tragedy such as what he’d experienced to befall him or anyone he cared about. Time passed relatively quickly, weeks turning into months, turning into years until his dedication to his vow paid off, landing himself in the First Cohort.

Para Sample:

The sun hadn’t even gotten the chance to rise before Dorian was awake. He never allowed himself to sleep in, always making his way to the training grounds before they got too busy. He liked as much solitude as possible while he warmed up; it eliminated distractions and distractions were not a thing Dorian could afford. He had to maintain his focus on the task at hand and prepare himself for the day as efficiently as possible. Bow slung over his shoulder and twin Pugio strapped to his belt, he trudged down the path that lead to the training grounds in silence, breath visible in the bone-chilling air.

“Pick up the pace, Dorian!”

His attention was drawn away from the scenery as his mother’s voice called out to him. The warm Summer sun warmed Dorian’s face as he jogged ahead to meet his parents. He was far too easily distracted by his surroundings, causing him to lag behind a fair amount.

“Sorry, sorry.” he muttered, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. “Can’t blame me for gawking, can you?”

“You can gawk all you want when we reach the end of the trail.” his mother insisted, taking a much needed sip from her water bottle before securing it into the pocket of her backpack. “Michael’s already a fair distance ahead of us. C’mon, time to make up for lost ground.” She motioned for him to follow as he began jogging ahead, Dorian quick to follow.

Thunk. The sound pierced the air as Dorian’s arrow found its target, hitting the stack of hay dead center. Another arrow knocked, a slow, calculated breath. The arrow loosed and flew through the air, splitting the previous arrow down the middle. There was a moment of hesitation, chest steadily rising and falling as his gaze remained transfixed on the target. Something felt off. He couldn’t place it, but something was itching at the back of his mind. He shook his head, choosing to push the thoughts aside as he made his way toward the target to retrieve his arrow.

The sun had already begun to set, the sky a mixture of soft shades of blue. There was an eerie quiet that had set upon the wilderness as the three made their way down the trail. Suddenly, the sound of a roar off in the distance made them stop in their tracks.

“What was that?” Dorian asked, looking to his parents and hoping for an explanation.

“I’m not sure,” Michael answered, peering into the woods, eyes squinted in an attempt to see better. The sound of galloping grew louder and louder, the patriarch protectively stepping in front of his family before a beast ten times the size of any bear burst through the trees.

“Dorian!” The sound of his name ripped him from his blacked out state, finding himself straddling his sparring partner with his fist raised, ready to deliver a final blow. His chest heaved as beads of sweat slowly rolled down his cheek, arm slowly falling to his side.

“I–I’m sorry.” he muttered as he pulled himself to his feet, outstretching an arm to help his partner to his. He could feel the disappointed stare of his friend burning into the back of his head, finally turning to meet her gaze.

“I think it’s time for you to call it a day,” She suggested, arms crossing over her chest as she glanced over Dorian’s shoulder to make sure his sparring partner was okay. As much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’m getting a little tired anyhow.” He agreed, turning toward the man he’d almost knocked out cold. He opened his mouth to speak, but the male quickly cut him off.

“Dude, it’s fine. We all have our bad days. I’m fine, I swear.” He insisted, offering the son of Apollo a reassuring smile. “I’ll just have to get you back next time.”

The tease got a gentle chuckle out of Dorian, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

#accepted #Dorian Rhoads #death mention tw #tw death mention

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shipinthewoods · 4 years

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look.ship Presents: Our Albums of the Year, 2019

–

There is nothing scientific about this list. There were no ballots, nor any attempts at consensus building, nor any regard for critical consensus at all. As a result, this thing is frequently mercurial and out of step with other lists I’ve seen so far this year. It breaks its own rules more than once. It by no means claims to be definitive. It would be hard to explain why certain albums ended up where they did, except to say that they felt like they should be there. In the end, some of the tricker album rankings were decided by how well tracks might blend together when it comes time to convert this thing into a series of mixes. Oh, yeah, I’ve also added ten slots this year for LPs: we’re up to 90. It was a good year for records. It’d be understandable if you were to read the above and conclude that I didn’t take this process seriously, that this thing is a goof for me, but that’d be wrong. I’d say my utter rejection of so many list-making conventions is evidence of how seriously I take this endeavor year after year. Often, these lists feel perfunctory and transactional. I think they should feel personal and passionate. The goal, for me anyway, is sharing. Maybe shining a light on great work that could otherwise be overlooked. These are records that I love. The hope is that you can poke through this feature at your leisure and discover something that you love, too, something that might temporarily soothe or productively engage that roiling stew of anger, existential dread, and anxiety that seems to exist in all of us these days. I was lucky to be given the opportunity to write about some of these albums and artists for The Quietus – and edit essays about others elsewhere – but I wish I could have written at length about them all. I wish I could have written about Hiro Kone’s profound examination of absence, about Stephen Warwick’s droll mezzanine, about PAT’s touching realization of a late mother’s pop ambitions, about Giant Swan’s openhearted cacophony, Kedr Livanskiy’s compact club anthems, Business Of Dreams’s bittersweet power-pop perfection, The Hecks’ deep dive into treble, The Leaf Library’s wonderful rejection of concision, TWINS’s ever-evolving mastery of synthpop, Gong Gong Gong’s drumless but percussive garage rock, Sly & The Family Drone’s clangorous noise-jazz, Dale Cornish’s always lucid dissections of beats in space, Zonal’s filthy dirt-encrusted riddims, M. Sage’s warm abstractions of an ever-evolving Chicago, whatever alchemy Underworld undertook to make the DRIFT box such a rousing success – you get the picture. But most of all I wish I could have written about Larry Gus and Jay Glass Dubs. 2019 was a banner year for Jay Glass Dubs. It started with the release of Epitaph – a singular vision of gothic dub – and ended with Nyx – our EP of the year, signaling a new beginning for our hero, an unassailable vision of hallucinatory devotional music, evocative of a past future scried by ancient mystics. And then there was the triumphant return of Larry Gus after years in the wilderness, our album of the year, Subservient, clutched firmly in his hand, its outré, idiosyncratic mélange of fourth-world pop and future-folk impossible to ignore. Or remove from the turntable. That Subservient contains no samples, marking Gus’s turn away from a more-or-less sample-based approach, makes its success all the more remarkable. DFA deserves props for sticking by Gus all these years. He’s one of those oddball artists that never quite gets his proper due, especially in the States. Despite an essentially unimpeachable discography, critics here have yet to properly glom onto his work, remaining sadly oblivious to its unique charms. I want to say that will change with this recently released, delightfully bizarre set of sun-blasted jams, but it’s December now, and I’m somehow doubtful we’ll see a proper course correction. But who cares what other critics think, really? Trust me. Don’t skip this one. When Larry's critical reappraisal rolls around, you can be like, “Yeah, no duh.” Some housekeeping: Not much has changed this year. As mentioned previously, I’ve added ten spots to the “Albums of the Year” list, which now clocks in at an even 90 LPs, the top 25 of which are ranked. The remaining albums are presented in alphabetical order, because I can’t be bothered to rank 90 records, and what does that even mean, anyway? What’s the difference between albums number 89 and 90? Does anyone know? I certainly don’t. Every single one of these releases absolutely rules. Practically speaking, there is no perceptible shift in quality from one to another, and most of this is “apples and oranges” stuff, anyhow. Following the LPs, you’ll find one (1) list of this year’s top 20 EPs and one (1) list of our 10 favorite bits of miscellany (mixtapes, comps, reissues, live recordings, etc.). If I’ve written at length about a record on the list, its entry will include a link to that review. In the few circumstances that an artist released two or more killer, thematically and / or sonically similar records this year, I’ve included both in a single entry. Is that cheating? Yes. Do I care? No. Alright, without further ado, here we go.

Our Albums of the Year, 2019: Top 25

1. Larry Gus – Subservient (DFA)

Subservient by Larry Gus

2. Jay Glass Dubs – Epitaph (Bokeh Versions)

Epitaph by Jay Glass Dubs

3. Soft Walls – Not As Bad As It Seems (Self-released)

Not as Bad as It Seems by Soft Walls

4. Hiro Kone – A Fossil Begins to Bray (Dais)

A Fossil Begins To Bray by Hiro Kone

5. Giant Swan – Giant Swan (KECK)

Giant Swan by Giant Swan

6. Equiknoxx – Eternal Children (Equiknoxx Music)

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7. Kedr Livanskiy – Your Need (2MR)

Your Need by Kedr Livanskiy

8. Steven Warwick – MOI (PAN)

MOI by Steven Warwick

9. Business Of Dreams – Ripe for Anarchy (Slumberland)

Ripe For Anarchy by Business Of Dreams

10. The Hecks – My Star (Trouble In Mind)

My Star by The Hecks

11. The Leaf Library – The World Is a Bell (Where It’s At Is Where You Are)

The World Is A Bell by The Leaf Library

12. Jenny Hval – The Practice of Love (Sacred Bones)

The Practice of Love by Jenny Hval

13. PAT – Love Will Find a Way Home (Pioneer Works Press)

Love Will Find A Way Home by PAT

14. TWINS – New Cold Dream (2MR)

New Cold Dream by TWINS

15. Gross Net – Gross Net Means Gross Net (Felte)

Gross Net Means Gross Net by Gross Net

16. Gong Gong Gong – Phantom Rhythm (Wharf Cat)

Phantom Rhythm 幽靈節奏 (幽霊リズム) by Gong Gong Gong 工工工

17. Brother May – Aura Type Orange (Self-released)

Aura Type Orange by Brother May

18. MC Yallah x Debmaster – Kubali (Hakuna Kulala)

Kubali by MC YALLAH X DEBMASTER

19. Kinlaw & Franco Franco – Mezzi Umani Mezze Macchine (Avon Terror Corps)

Mezzi Umani Mezze Macchine by Kinlaw & Franco Franco

20. Zonal – Wrecked (Relapse)

Wrecked by Zonal

21. Sly & The Family Drone – Gentle Persuaders (Love Love)

Gentle Persuaders by Sly & The Family Drone

22. Teeth Of The Sea – Wraith (Rocket recordings)

WRAITH by Teeth Of The Sea

23. Dale Cornish – Enhex (Entr’acte)

Enhex by Dale Cornish

24. Kemper Norton – brunton calciner (Self-released)

brunton calciner by Kemper Norton

25. M. Sage – Catch a Blessing (Geographic North)

Catch a Blessing by M. Sage

Our Albums of the Year, 2019: 26 - 90

Andy Stott – It Should Be Us (Modern Love)

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Anthony Naples – Fog FM (ANS)

Fog FM by Anthony Naples

Aseethe – Throes (Thrill Jockey)

Throes by Aseethe

Bamboo – Daughters of the Sky (Upset The Rhythm)

Daughters Of The Sky by Bamboo

Basic Rhythm – On the Threshold (Planet Mu)

On The Threshold by Basic Rhythm

Black To Comm – Seven Horses for Seven Kings / Before After (Thrill Jockey)

Seven Horses For Seven Kings by BLACK TO COMM

Before After by BLACK TO COMM

Blanck Mass – Animated Violence Mild (Sacred Bones)

Animated Violence Mild by Blanck Mass

Boreal Massif – We All Have an Impact (Pessimist Productions)

PESS003 - Boreal Massif - We All Have An Impact LP by Boreal Massif

Carla dal Forno – Look Up Sharp (Kallista)

Look Up Sharp by Carla dal Forno

Carmen Villain – Both Lines Will Be Blue (Smalltown Supersound)

Both Lines Will Be Blue by Carmen Villain

Cate Le Bon – Reward (Mexican Summer)

Reward by Cate Le Bon

Clara! y Maoupa – Luna Nueva (Editions Gravats)

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Clinic – Wheeltappers and Shunters (Domino)

Wheeltappers and Shunters by Clinic

Dalham – Heat Death (Castles In Space)

Heat Death by DALHAM

Deerhunter – Why Hasn’t Everything Already Disappeared? (4AD)

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DIÄT – Positive Disintegration (Iron Lung / Blackest Ever Black)

Positive Disintegration by Diät

Drahla – Useless Coordinates (Captured Tracks)

Useless Coordinates by Drahla

Emptyset – Blossoms (Thrill Jockey)

Blossoms by Emptyset

Félicia Atkinson - The Flower & the Vessel (Shelter Press)

The Flower And The Vessel by Félicia Atkinson

Forest Swords – The Machine Air (Dense Truth)

The Machine Air (Original Film Soundtrack) by Forest Swords

Fujiya & Miyagi – Flashback (Impossible Objects Of Desire)

FLASHBACK by Fujiya & Miyagi

Georgia – One Mind (Youth)

Georgia - One Mind - YOCD5 by YOUTH

Girl band – The Talkies (Rough Trade)

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Grey Hairs – Health & Social Care (Gringo)

Health & Social Care by Grey Hairs

Gum Takes Tooth – Arrow (Rocket Recordings)

Arrow by Gum Takes Tooth

Harrga – Héroïques Animaux de la Misère (Avon Terror Corps)

Héroïques Animaux de la Misère by Harrga

Heavy Bleeding – Heavy Bleeding (Pickled Discs)

Heavy Bleeding by Heavy Bleeding

Hey Colossus – Four Bibles (ALTER)

Four Bibles by Hey Colossus

HTRK – Venus in Leo (Ghostly Intl.)

Venus in Leo by HTRK

I Jahbar & Friends – Inna Duppy SKRS Soundclash (Bokeh Versions)

Inna Duppy SKRS Soundclash by I Jahbar & Friends

The iDEALIST – Say Yes to No (iDEAL Recordings)

Say Yes To No by The Idealist

Institute – Readjusting the Locks (Sacred Bones)

Readjusting the Locks by Institute

Jon Brooks – Emotional Freedom Techniques (Café Kaput)

Emotional Freedom Techniques by Jon Brooks

Kevin Morby – Oh My God (Secretly Canadian)

Oh My God by Kevin Morby

Kim Gordon – No Home Record (Matador)

youtube

Lafawndah – Ancestor Boy (Concordia)

Ancestor Boy by Lafawndah

Laurence Pike – Holy Spring (The Leaf Label)

Holy Spring by Laurence Pike

Lifted – 2 (PAN)

2 by Lifted

Lightning Bolt – Sonic Citadel (Thrill Jockey)

Sonic Citadel by Lightning Bolt

LINGUA IGNOTA – CALIGULA (Profound Lore)

CALIGULA by LINGUA IGNOTA

Loraine James – For You and I (Hyperdub)

For You and I by Loraine James

MADTEO – Dropped Out Sunshine (DDS)

DROPPED OUT SUNSHINE LP by MADTEO

Matmos – Plastic Anniversary (Thrill Jockey)

Plastic Anniversary by Matmos

Mike Donovan – Exurbian Quonset (Drag City)

Exurbian Quonset by Mike Donovan

Modern Nature – How to Live (Bella Union)

How To Live by Modern Nature

MSYLMA – Dhil-un Taht Shajarat Al-Zaqum (Halcyon Veil)

youtube

MY DISCO – Environment (Downwards)

Environment by MY DISCO

Nazamba – Nazamba (Dubquake)

NAZAMBA (Produced by O.B.F) by Nazamba

Not Glass - Forma (Ecstatic)

Forma / Ήθος by Not Glass (Not Waving + Jay Glass Dubs)

Oozing Wound – High Anxiety (Thrill Jockey)

High Anxiety by Oozing Wound

Patience – Dizzy Spells (Night School / Winona)

Dizzy Spells by Patience

The Pheromoans – County Lines (ALTER)

County Lines by The Pheromoans

Purple Mountains – Purple Mountains (Drag City)

Purple Mountains by Purple Mountains

Pye Corner Audio – Hollow Earth (Ghost Box)

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Rainer Veil – Vanity (Modern Love)

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Rian Treanor – ATAXIA (Planet Mu)

ATAXIA by Rian Treanor

Salac – Sacred Movements (Avon Terror Corps)

Sacred Movements by Salac

Sea Urchin – Tahtib (Bokeh Versions)

Tahtib by Sea Urchin

Snapped Ankles – Stunning Luxury (The Leaf Label)

Stunning Luxury by Snapped Ankles

Tempers – Private Life (Dais)

Private Life by TEMPERS

Tim Presley’s White Fence – I Have to Feed Larry’s Hawk (Drag City)

I Have to Feed Larry's Hawk by Tim Presley's White Fence

Trash Kit – Horizon (Upset The Rhythm)

youtube

Uniform and The Body – Everything That Dies Someday Comes Back (Sacred Bones)

Everything That Dies Someday Comes Back by Uniform & The Body

The Utopia Strong – The Utopia Strong (Rocket Recordings)

The Utopia Strong by The Utopia Strong

Western Edges – Prowess (Sounds In Silence)

Prowess by Western Edges

Our Top 20 EPs, 12”s, etc., 2019

1. Jay Glass Dubs – Nyx (Berceuse Heroique)

BH 061 Jay Glass Dubs - Nyx EP by Berceuse Heroique

2. Yoshinori Hayashi – γ (Smalltown Supersound)

γ by Yoshinori Hayashi

3. Country Florist – “OUTLASTR” (Drawing Room)

"OUTLASTR" by Country Florist

4. Moon Diagrams – Trappy Bats (Geographic North)

Trappy Bats by Moon Diagrams

5. HYPERSTITION DUO – VIROTECHNICS (POLYPHONIC ASSEMBLAGE)

VIROTECHNICS by HYPERSTITION DUO

6. Holodrum – “No Dither” / “Low Light” (Self-released singles)

No Dither by Holodrum

Low Light by Holodrum

7. Primitive Knot – Unholy Grails (Self-released) / Puritan (Deathbed Tapes)

Unholy Grails by Primitive Knot

PURITAN by Primitive Knot

8. Miss Red – The Four Bodies (Pressure)

The Four Bodies by Miss Red

9. Virginia Wing – Pale Burnt Lake (Fire)

Pale Burnt Lake by Virginia Wing

10. Sandy – Traces (Geographic North)

Traces by Sandy

11. Earth Girl Helen Brown – Uranus (Empty Cellar)

URANUS by Earth Girl Helen Brown

12. Low Jack – Jingles du Lieu-dit (Editions Gravats)

Jingles du Lieu-dit by Low Jack

13. Jay Glass Dubs – Thumb Dub (Dub On Arrival)

Thumb Dub/Index Dub by JAY GLASS DUBS

14. Kinlaw – Drax (Haunter)

Drax by Kinlaw

15. JK Flesh – In Your Pit (Pressure)

'In Your Pit E.P.' by JK FLESH

16. Hontos – Subway Series vol. 2 (Bank Records NYC)

Subway Series Vol.2 by Hontos

17. Perc – Three Tracks to Send to Your Ghost Producer (Perc Trax)

Three Tracks To Send To Your Ghost Producer by Perc

18. Enrique – Self Loathing (Bank Records NYC)

Self Loathing by Enrique

19. AyGeeTee – Answers for Past Meetings (Honest Electronics)

Answers for Past Meetings (HE14) by AyGeeTee

20. James Place – Still Waves to a Whisper / Vanishing (Umor Rex)

Still Waves To A Whisper by James Place

Vanishing by James Place

Our Top 10 Mixtapes, Comps, Reissues, and Live Recordings of 2019

1. Underworld – DRIFT Series 1 Boxset (Smith Hyde Productions)

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2. British Murder Boys – Fire in the Still Air (Downwards)

Fire In The Still Air by British Murder Boys

3. Rabit – The Dope Show / Kold Summer / Star Belly (Halcyon Veil)

THE DOPE SHOW by Rabit

KOLD SUMMER by Rabit

STAR BELLY by Rabit

4. Gaika – Heaters 4 the 2 Seaters (Warp)

youtube

5. Burial – Tunes 2011 to 2019 (Hyperdub)

Tunes 2011 to 2019 by Burial

6. Low Jack – Breizh (Hospital Productions)

Breizh by Low Jack

7. Various Artists – No Sleep Til Avon (Avon Terror Corps)

No Sleep 'Til Avon by Avon Terror Corps

8. Master Your Horn Noise – Live at Rave (Dishonest Electronics)

LIVE AT RAVE (DIS03) by Master Your Horn Noise

9. The Juan Maclean – The Brighter the Light (DFA)

The Brighter The Light by The Juan Maclean

10. Mark Peters – New Routes out of Innerland (Sonic Cathedral)

New Routes out of Innerland by Mark Peters

– Bernie Brooks is the editor-in-chief and bloggist of look.ship. *Everything* he writes or compiles or otherwise makes–or has *ever* written, compiled, or otherwise made–for A Ship In The Woods is editorial content, and as such reflects his opinion alone, not necessarily that of Ship as an organization. Actually, this applies to all the content on look.shipinthewoods.com, regardless of who wrote or said it. He can be e-mailed: bernie [at] shipinthewoods [dot] com – Image by Bernie Brooks.

#Albums of the Year #AOTY #Albums of the Year 2019 #AOTY 2019 #Best of 2019 #Bernie Brooks #A Ship In The Woods

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willamettemountain · 7 years

Text

Blood leads Blood / Ice Burns Body / Seperation in Humans

How is it that the tongue of a singer can become so fat from the buffet line that it forgets how to sing? That the arm of high school baseball pitcher can become weak with the passing of days? That this Nebraskan boy who moved to Utah to pursue a life of nursing, religion and hope morphed, through circumstance, into a singing, questioning, searching family man with no hands in the hospital or medical field? And how is it that this said singer can so quickly forget the heartache that is customary with every coming tour, every traveling escapade? Am I that forgetful? Does it sting to the point that the mind chooses to push it from its memory?

I boarded the plane headed to Helsinki with a light heart (probably due to the fact that Finland (and Sweden (mustn’t forget Sweden)) has birthed some of my favorite human beings on the planet) and a heavy mind (due to the fact that I would miss the moment of many events that involve my loving heart beats). Oliver and Millie were asleep when I kissed their foreheads, sitting strapped to children’s chairs that had been firmly anchored to the seatbelts of our car. They looked like angels, celestial guardians of the pure emotion that seems to slip from my insides the longer I am alive. Can it be bottled? Maintained? Groomed? BOUGHT even? (god forbid).

As if in a dream, the billion pound piece of aerodynamic metal bounced from the surface of our planet, spitting me and the other participants, in what some might call a “funny experiment”, into the atmosphere, pretending that it should be accepted as RULE of TRUTH (the act of flying), oh! but we all know it’s a matter of time before the MAGIC GOLDEN BIRD comes back down to the surface. I just feel fortunate that our fate was that of a smooth landing, proof of a well-trained pilot and his / her steady hands (Oh, the terrible thought of the alternative). We arrived safely to Finland, embracing our family of years, at this point. The reunion with Mika, Ninni, Helmi, Jari, Anne, Laura, Mikko, and all of the other WONDERSOME human beings that we have had the pleasure of knowing was like returning home after dying, a reincarnation of one’s slightly absent / missing soul, rejuvenated and now beaming with the power of a light that could burst the core of your being into bolts. The shows were met with such acceptance that my mind raised the question of “why there, not here?” An answer, I have not.

FRIENDS PLAY MUSICS TOGETHER in JUTTUTUPA From Helsinki we flew to Sweden to embrace Björn and take his radically equipped Sprinter van across the Swedish lands in pursuit of a MUSICAL connection in four locations. At the airport, we met up with Timmy The Teeth and my little brother, Colby, who just so happened to have broken his wrist three weeks prior, forcing him to take a leave of absence from his day-to-day job and allowing him to travel with the boys and I across Sweden. All was right in my mind / world (close to it anyhow).

We drove immediately to Falkenberg, which was a good distance. We met up with Benjamin, who, because of financial restrictions, took the place of our beloved Isaac, the bad boy of bass. Our new Finnish friend quickly hopped inside our hearts and van, making his way across the country in a musical “choo-choo train”. Our last stop in Sweden was in a town called Avesta. Seemingly quaint and low key, this town, and her accompanying musical experience, that we will never forget, made quite the impact on our memories. The show was inside of a teepee that was located at what appeared to be a hotel / resort-style location. The welcoming was amazing by these kind kind people / friends and we sang and danced into the night. Nothing was spared, no bar to destroy, no building to burn, merely a line to line to line to line conduit. Me to You to Him to Her and on and on. I could have sung all night that night but “the travelers must catch their flight” I whispered. We left Avesta and Sweden with a VERY lightly rehearsed version of an old Everly Brothers song, “Bye Bye Love”

Which then sent us to a hazy, foggy and seemingly long drive (yes, immediately after the said show) to Stockholm where we would head to Äkäslompolo, Finland to play the Yllas Jazz & Blues Festival. We arrived at the airport hotel at 3:37 am, the bus to the airport left at 5:30am. Time for sleep.

The aircraft, miraculously arrived safely to a small airport outside of Äkäslompolo, where our friend and racecar driver Jari was patiently waiting. With licorice in hand and smile on face we embraced. “It is too good to see you again.” He said. No heart? No life! Jari raced us (Evan, Colby (my brother) and I) to the festival where we were scheduled to play in one hour. We pulled up, dragged our frigid frames and frozen guitars onto stage, tuned and started singing… “Back when I was 18, life gave me nothing but a sweet sweet kiss…” The room was silent, the search for a human touch and feel was tangible. I felt at home, I felt uplifted and inspired.

We had come to connect, we had arrived to sing. They had come to reflect, and arrived to feel.

“We’re winning…” Evan remarked. The show ended as quickly as it had started and we were off. I felt lighter, quicker and hinged on the hope that the night would be like the day. I was radically wrong in the hope. After dinner Colby and I, with our stealth friend and driver, Jari headed to the festival’s night show. It was “The filthy six” to play and a Finnish band, Miljoonasade. As the band began to play we were offered a floor that seemed to beckon us, ask our names, and demand a movement of feet. I became lost, disoriented and elated. I had once been a child, careless, free of stigma and expectation, ignorant to social status and body image. There have been moments since those years that I have been able to catch a glimpse of the boy / child that I once was. This magical night was just that. I moved to a rhythm that I had forgotten, a call that I was unaware would become a stranger, a shadow, a memory. That movement of ones body so unpredictable and unaware was addictive, we couldn’t stop (wouldn’t). Then the music stopped, the lights on. It was a quick walk back. It was late. We slept. The next day was our final show in Äkäslompolo. Illka, the man behind the curtain that has brought us to Yllas twice had set up a show for us at his pub, Sylva Pyy, and we were to be the second to last band of the festival. We were just happy to be a part of the experience and it felt almost like robbery that we would be able to sing twice. That morning, at breakfast, we saw Illka. “Good morning, boys. Would you like to do Sauna tonight, before your gig? “..YES! of course.” Evan quickly responded. “Good. It will be hole in the ice tonight. See you then.”

Hole in the ice? What the HEAVEN is “hole in the ice” My mind began to race through the possible ways of dying for thin man such as myself, and after some time I arrived at the thought that one of the worst ways to end your existence would be to freeze to death. And what else could happen, but that, if dipping ones self into a hole in the ice? This seemed absolutely insane / mad / destructive even. On we went. We arrived at the small house that appeared as a cottage to the unaware. Outside of the house, stretching about 50 feet was a iced over wooden bridge that led to a staircase, these stairs led the walker into a black hold of icy liquid. It appeared that this house / cottage was a form of torturing something / someone, for what else could such a bridge be used for. It was a plank to walk, to water, to death. We entered the house, and as the custom goes, removed our clothes and entered the 125-degree sauna room with 9 other participants in the “hole in the ice” adventure. As we all sat there, 14 of us, naked, staring at the steaming stove that fed the sauna with heat, you could feel the anxiety rise.

“As it is Finnish custom to Sauna, so is to drink shitty VODKA while in sauna!” a large naked man said raising a glass bottle of what I could only assume was sight / nerve destroying liquid that eased the mind / heart of anyone that was to jump into a hole in the ice. The faces began to calm as the bottle was passed around the hot room. You could feel the tension dropping, until it happened, three of them, stood and left the sauna and walked to the plank, and then three more, and then it was us, our turn to walk the plank. I forced my body up and out of the sauna. I opened the door, the sub-zero air hit me with force of a falling pine tree, needles to my skin, system confusion. As the man before me walked himself into the icy water I ran, quickly, through my recent experiences. I had a good one, life that is, if this WAS the end, then I was ok. Take me, you dark demon of earth, you icy hand of doom, I am yours. I walked down the ladder and plunged my body into the hole in the ice. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever felt. Maybe it’s like dying, maybe it’s like heaven, maybe it’s like both. It can’t be described as painful, or pleasant, but maybe the word is “AWARING”. After leaving the water I walked the icy trail back to the house, outside I stood and stared at the sky, letting whatever indescribable feeling paralyze my thought and mind, sending me into the universe that exists ONLY there, only then, that moment, LIVING it, BEING it, and it was PERFECT.

Three more times we entered sauna, cooked our bodies and returned to the black hole of water. We bid our adieus to the group of gents that were there with us and felt a strange kinship to all those that had survived. We then headed to Sylva Pyy, where we would play our final show of the tour.

The crowd was seated and the stage was small, my body and mind seemed to misplace everything that it had memorized up until that point. The sauna and hole in the ice was racing, albeit slowly, through my periphery, but my hands and mouth couldn’t find the right combination to begin singing, truly, a feeling I had never experienced. The show was to start and the sound guy gave us the thumbs up. I looked at Evan, as a child looks to its mother after rising from a night tremor. The show began. The show ended. The only evidence I have of playing that night is a recording of a song that Jari made and sent to me days after arriving back to the United States. I hardly recall exact events from the rest of the evening. Everything seems to fall into a cabinet of red and orange clouds, small faces, dancing, words, phrases, laughter, all will peak up over the hazy top, but sink quickly back into the fog and settle inside of the storm��s eye. What a journey we are on. OH! What a trip it is. Joshua

#finland #joshuajames #sylva pyy #hoedown #sweden #avesta #timmytheteeth

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flanneljammies · 7 years

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2017 Top 20

20. Vous Autres - Trente Pièces d'Argent Ominous French metallions playing blackened post-metal. The glacial pace makes the emotional turmoil of the throat-shredding vocals even more harrowing. Slow and low baby. (self-released | Bandcamp)

19. Au Champ Des Morts - Dans La Joie Atmospheric black metal that touches on more than just post-rock and shoegaze. A mastery of dynamics and arrangement allows these Frenchmen to dabble in doom, noise rock, hardcore, and straight-up rock and roll. They also choose to fuck with the established vocal conventions, eschewing throat-shredding shrieking on occasion and slipping into solemnly intoned chants or a sort of hardcore bark. It's desperate and melancholy and yet often strangely uplifting. (Debemur Morti | Bandcamp)

18. Do Make Say Think - Stubborn Persistent Illusions Post-rock stalwarts return to form, making me almost forget about their last several lackluster records. More muscular and bombastic then they've ever been, DMST also seems to be gingerly testing the waters of math-rock. There are still the gorgeous passages of lilting, pastoral beauty, but never at the expense of emotionally wrenching melody. It's no Enemy Airship, but it's a good'un. (Constellation | Bandcamp)

17. Only The Bones - Death And His Brother Sleep This Chicago band describes itself (with tongue planted firmly in cheek one supposes) as "post-Fugazi." They're not far off the mark. Members of Swan King, Snow Burial, and This Computer Kills churn out jagged Dischord-style post-punk hooks that veer off into psych and metal territory occasionally. It's economical, concise, and packs one hell of a wallop. (self-released | Bandcamp)

16. Maximum Busy Muscle - Maximum Busy Muscle Expansive double-drummer noiserock from Athens GA. Unlike most bands trafficking in the post-Touch & Go world, MBM dispenses with vocals entirely and go completely instrumental. But this isn't some namby-pamby post-rock record. This is a tough-as-nails excursion into a maelstrom. The razor-sharp musicianship teases out swaggering noiserock, post-hardcore, and mathrock. But when the band opens up a bit and lets your catch your breath, there's also some sort of weird psychedelic thing going on that I can't quite put my finger on. It's an exhilarating and engrossing roller coaster. (self-released | Bandcamp)

15. Gnod - Just Say No To The Psycho Right-wing Capitalist Fascist Industrial Death Machine Anarchist drone punk from the UK. Apparently the band has been around for the better part of a decade and their recorded output has dabbled in all sorts of styles. I'm just getting hip to them now and really have only listened to this record. It's got the singleminded motorik of krautrock and the shambolic flip off of early Fall. Gnod manages to wring every last morsel of tone, meaning, and dynamics out of a single riff and still keep me on the edge of my seat. These muscular and ominous mantra-like songs underscore the modern dread summed up in the title. Crucial. (Rocket | Bandcamp)

14. Breag Naofa - II Seattle's Breag Naofa continue their forced march of crushing devastation. Their blackened post-doom is suffocating and yet somehow still sounds like it's about to take flight. Amid the pulverizing riffs and throat-shredding vocals, ugly and twisted melodies emerge from the gloom with just enough hook to ensnare you and pull you struggling and gasping to the surface. This is an epic, sprawling indictment. Subject yourself. (Halo Of Flies | Bandcamp)

13. Ex Eye - Ex Eye Saxophonist Colin Stetson leads this arty post-everything collective. If you're looking some nice jazz sax here, you'll be sorely disappointed. But if you're looking for damaged post-rock colliding with extreme metal, you've come to the right place. Ex Eye often reminds me of Maserati without any of that band's restraint and a whole lot more blown-out noisy layers. At other points I'm reminded of weirdo metal like, say, Liturgy but way blacker (both in style and mood) and chaotic. Stetson's sax blends with electronics and guitars so that it's often hard to tell what's going on and who's playing what. This is a stunning, immersive debut. An heir, perhaps, to John Zorn’s crown? (Relapse | Bandcamp)

12. Amenra - Mass VI Slow-burn doom from Belgium. The album begins with air-raid-sirens-in-the-distance feedback before a gentle guitar strum emerges. After what seems like an eternity (but really is only four minutes), the sky comes crashing down with impossibly pummeling guitar and drums and a tortured high-pitched screech. Amenra takes their time in all things. If that riff needs to go on for eight minutes, then goddammit, that's how long it'll go. Vocalist Colin van Eeckhout’s new-found comfort with quiet-n-pretty clean vocals hasn't dulled their brutal edge at all. He's perfectly willing to bide his time for the next round of blood-curdling histrionics. Majestic and crushing, mournful and melancholy, Amenra continues their ascent. (Neurot | Bandcamp)

11. Bereft - Lands Madison's own Bereft knock it out of the park on their second record (and first for Prosthetic). The blackened post-metal of their earlier material is mostly gone here, instead replaced by soaring atmospheric doom. The quartet milk as much mileage as possible out of the interplay between the two vocalists (sometimes hoarse scream, sometimes plaintive incantation). The bruising slabs of down-tuned riffs threaten to swallow voices and strangle guitar melodies. In the end though it's these atmospheric elements and a deft sense melody that elevate Bereft over their low-n-slow brethren. (Prosthetic | Bandcamp)

10. Lardo - Sinking If I didn't tell you Lardo was from Chicago, I'm pretty sure you'd be able tell anyhow. Lardo plays slashing and angular noise rock that will sound familiar to anyone who's ever heard Shellac. Like that band, vocalist Nick Minor delivers matter-of-fact sarcasm about the banal. Musically, they're anchored by a bit-crushed, synthy guitar sound that, on paper, should become really annoying really fast. The fact that it doesn't is a testament to the razor-sharp and inventive playing and laconic songwriting. As stylistically indebted as it is, Sinking still manages to step out from under the shadows and forge its own identity. (Alliterative Accord | Bandcamp)

9. Brutus - Burst This slippery noiserock outfit from Belgium is fronted by a woman with some ungodly pipes -- in fact, I’m constantly bewildered by her power. The tightly wound post-hardcore compositions are ear worms drilling directly into your brain. Add to that a vocalist more powerful even than Julie Christmas and you've got honest-to-gosh, fist-in-the-air anthem material. Burst is spine-tingling in its soaring majesty. (Sargent House | Bandcamp)

8. Human Future - Flat Earth Blues Apparently this London post-hardcore band broke up this year, but they've left us with a compelling swan song. This is tough, grandiose, emotionally affecting stuff that gets under the skin. Sure, there are other bands working in this same general area (Less Art, Self Defense Family, La Dispute), but Human Future's take is decidedly more bombastically rock (rawk?) -- at turns muscular and atmospheric, replete with guitar solos and proggy, psychedelic spaciness. (Truthseeker Music | Bandcamp)

7. Rainer Maria - S/T Ten years after we last heard from them, OG emo kids Rainer Maria are back. And it's a refreshing return to form. This "comeback" record is tougher, louder, and noisier then they've been since their first record. Kaia Fischer's guitar lines are as inventive as ever and Caithlin De Marrais' vocals still channel both emotional turmoil and ennui. Maturity hasn't dulled their edge, if anything they've honed their craft in a way only seasoned musicians and road dogs can hope to do. The amped up aggression and forward propulsion of their new-found joy of playing together again is tempered by well-considered studio experimentation and atmosphere. This is no nostalgia act. This is thoughtful people making vital music. (Polyvinyl | Bandcamp)

6. The Kraken Quartet - Separate | Migrate A quartet of four percussionists might sound like a recipe for disaster, but throw in some electronics and some top-notch playing and compositions and it turns into a post-rock tour de force. This is the record Tortoise should have been making for the last ten years. Richly immersive and percussive (duh), Separate is modern jazz for the post-rock crowd. It's compelling and spellbinding and deserves a much wider audience than it’s likely to get. (Hand Drawn | Bandcamp)

5. Oxbow - Thin Black Duke After a ten-year hiatus, the shape-shifting, iconoclastic Oxbow is back. Eugene Robinson whispers, growls, spits, wails, moans, shouts, and proselytizes over noise-rock filtered through a vaudevillian film score. Sometimes it's muscular and angular and other times it's lush and spooky. It's always uncompromising and beguiling. By the end of the record you may wonder what you heard, but you'll listen again either way. It may feel mostly subdued, but there's real menace beneath the all the layers; like you're poking a rabid bear just coming out of hibernation -- a bit foggy, but intensely hungry and unwilling to take shit from anyone. (Hydra Head | Bandcamp)

4. Less Art - Strangled Light Emotional and arty noise-rock cum hardcore is certainly not what one would expect from members of Kowloon Walled City, Tigon, and Curl Up And Die, but here we are. While Less Art often recalls a kinder, gentler Botch, there's loads of mile-wide riffs and almost-calms that do indeed reference KWC. Mike Minnick's laconic, world weary, sing-speak vocals are the centerpiece, anchoring the serpentine arrangements. These songs heave and writhe, sometimes lashing out, sometimes turning to introspection -- but there's always desperation, anger, and resignation. Strangled Light is a ferocious and formidable debut from lifers who know exactly what they're doing. Here's hoping they tour. (Gilead Media | Bandcamp)

3. Vanum - Burning Arrow This version of black metal is probably trve enough for the kvlt kids, but there's more to it than that. Burning Arrow is triumphant and processional, uplifting despite its claustrophobic maelstrom of blast beats, tremolo picking, and throat torture. The majesty and melancholy take on a narrative quality pulling you along to the next twist in the road. It's hard to explain without resorting to some bullshit sword-vs-sorcery trope, but fuck it... Your're on a journey towards victory. On the battle field you raise your fist in the air, heart swelling as you watch your enemies vanquished. Powerful and uncompromising stuff. (Psychic Violence | Bandcamp)

2. Big|Brave - Ardor Lazy description: Nadja fronted by Bjork. That's not wrong but there are more layers. Glacially paced doom/drone with hiccupy little girl squeals? That's not exactly it either. Crushing, mantra-like riffs à la My Disco with sweet-yet-exotic female vocals à la Blonde Redhead? Hmmm... not quite. A swirling mass of Swans-like noise underpinning Julie Christmas? Fuck it. It's brilliant. (Southern Lord | Bandcamp)

1. Aviator - Loneliness Leaves The Light On For Me I'm a sucker for emotionally wrenching, angularly mathy post-hardcore. This Boston five piece will immediately call to mind La Dispute or mewithoutYou but they're definitely not plagiarists. Hoarse, world-weary vocals are propelled by razor sharp riffs that never fail to tug at my heart strings. It's catchy, frantic, smart, and propulsive. Makes me punch my fist in the air, want to get in the pit, and long for my youth. (No Sleep | Bandcamp)

Other Stuff Other stuff that didn’t make the list, but that I listened to a lot this year.

Breag Naofa - Cearo (self-released) Blackened post-doom from Seattle

BRZRKRZ - Fever Dream Kitchen (self-released) Electronic atmospheric beats for the lounge at the end of the unvierse

Buzzooko - Giza (Retrovox) Giddy Italian Jesus Lizard-worship.

Chavez - Cockfighters (Matador) The influential arty indie band releases a three-song single after 20 years of activity. But come on! Only three songs and no tour plans?!?

Goddamned Animals - My Second Cult Suicide (self-released) Noisy Portland post-hardcore straddling the line between These Arms Are Snakes and San Diego chaotic hardcore.

Heaven In Her Arms - White Halo (Moment Of Collapse) Japanese Envy worship with lots of guitar solos.

Lotus Ash - The Evening Redness (self-released) Doomy sludge or is it sludgy doom? From Milwaukee.

Loyalists - Ride the Trashheap of Sound (self-released) Weird and arty noise-rock from Oakland.

M. Martin - A Harvest of Ice (Rare Plant) Gothy and apocalyptic collection of songs from Coordinated Suicides main man.

Monotrope - Unifying Receiver (New Atlantis) Complex instrumental noisy math rock.

New Cowboy Builders - Used Future (self-released) Final recordings form the Welsh band that is equal parts Fall and Big Black.

Often The Thinker - Better Part of Vice (self-released) Superb 2016 release from this far-flung post-rock collective. Lush arrangements and stellar playing.

Sannhet - So Numb (Profound Lore) The NYC blackgaze band has succumbed to the dark side of shoegaze -- barely a blast beat to be found.

Throane - Plus Une Main A Mordre (Debemur Morti) Claustrophobic blackened doom from France.

Underhand - Roman Numeral One (self-released) Muscular instrumental post-rock from Chicago.

UT - δ γ ε β (Taxi Driver) Chaotic Italian noiserock. Equal parts Blood Brothers and Slint.

Wailin’ Storms - Sick City (Antena Krzyku) Gothy noiserock from Durham NC. I hear loads of Echo and Bunnymen.

When Icarus Falls - Resilience (Czar Of Crickets) Mathy Swiss post-metal. Lots of Cult of Luna-worship.

Chelsea Wolfe - Hiss Spun (Sargent House) Another electro-goth outing from the mysterious chanteuse.

#best-of #review #noiserock #Black-gaze #post-metal #post-rock #electronic #Self-Released #black metal

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