sound rhythm

The signs in nature

Aries: the warmth of a fire

Taurus: the feel of rain

Gemini: the view of the sky

Cancer: the love of the moon

Leo: the touch of light

Virgo: the sound of nature

Libra: the loyalty of a pack

Scorpio: the power of waves

Sagittarius: the rhythm of the wind

Capricorn: the healing of the ground

Aquarius: the knowledge of the creatures

Pisces: the secret of life

Monster (Pt. 1)

   |Pt. 1|Pt. 2|Pt. 3|Pt. 4|Pt. 5|

Reader x Sehun

Summary: Werewolves aren’t meant to be messed with, but unfortunately, you don’t really have a choice.

Genre: mature

Warnings: nothing much in this part, though that will change later

Word Count: 2,218

A/N: It’s been like 2 weeks since I last posted something? Idk, but my focus has been very out of whack lately, and finally I had the motivation to write. Unfortunately, it isn’t one of my ongoing things, but this is what happened and I’m glad to be expanding my masterlist. I wrote this is about an hour or two and didn’t really feel like editing, so sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy.

Originally posted by sefuns

   |Chapter 1

You tapped your pencil against your desk in a steady rhythm, the sound of your professor’s voice droning on in the background. You couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention today.

Your eyes wandered to the other side of the classroom where the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the view of the sunny courtyard beyond. It was a nice day for autumn, and you would much rather be spending it outside than in this stuffy classroom. Unfortunately, there were still thirty minutes left of class, and then you were going to head to the library after to study.

And, as it usually went in this class, your eyes wandered to the boy sitting next to the windows.

You didn’t know what it was about him, but somehow he always caught your eye. Never once had you spoken to him – or even heard him speak, for that matter – but he was absolutely captivating. You’d never really gotten a good look at his face, but from the glimpses you caught he was extraordinarily handsome. He was tall as well, but other than that, you knew only one thing about him: his name.

Oh Sehun.

Keep reading

John is not cheating - mini music meta

Guys, just a short thing:
I love my music! It tells the truth! John is not cheating (at least it’s not his fault!!!)

Because the “cheating” theme is a variation on “targets” from TBB!!!

I knew it sounded familiar, because of the high flute notes, rarely used by Price and Arnolds! But also the background sound and ‘rhythm’ is similar!!!

JOHN IS A TARGET!! SOMEONE SENT E IN HIS WAY!!

[That’s the second part! Because “targets” is also the main theme for the circus in TBB and for Shane, who was sent in their way by M.
… the side notes of “target” (and therefor of “cheating”) always remembered me strongly of some aspects of the Mycroft theme “security cameras”…. so what would be the consequence? M. = Mycroft? And therefor Mycroft also the one who sent E.? Don’t know for sure, that’s what coming up when listening to the soundtrack…]

But most important: John is the target in this whole cheating shit…

People who might like
@gosherlocked @ebaeschnbliah @isitandwonder @monikakrasnorada @yan-yae @tjlcisthenewsexy @may-shepard @impatient14 @waitingforgarridebs (do you agree?) @mylastvow

iKON → sentence starter pack.


Airplane:

❝ We won’t ever see each other again. ❞
❝ Stop pretending to be calm. ❞
❝ Let’s go watch a movie later. ❞
❝ I don’t wanna let you go like this. ❞
❝ Stop for a moment. ❞
❝ It’s raining. ❞
❝ It’ll be dangerous if you go now. ❞
❝ There’s a lot of time. ❞
❝ Just one more day. ❞
❝Just one more hour. ❞
❝ Just one more minute. ❞
❝ It’s the last time I’m seeing you, please. ❞
❝ Do you have to go today? ❞
❝ Can’t you go tomorrow? ❞
❝ I don’t wanna let you go. ❞
❝ When will you be back? ❞
❝ I’m scared of getting far away from you. ❞

Dumb & Dumber:

❝ Let’s get dumb. ❞
❝ I don’t have class. ❞
❝ I don’t hide anything. ❞
❝ There’s no time to breathe. ❞
❝ Let out your wild side. ❞
❝ Of course you hate me. ❞
❝ Dance, dance like you’re crazy. ❞
❝ Oh baby, is anyone there? ❞
❝ My heart is lonely. ❞
❝ Don’t look at me like that. ❞
❝ Shout out. ❞
❝ I just wanna get drunk. ❞
❝ From my head, shoulders to my toes.❞
❝ You look like a penguin. ❞
❝ What’s good is good. ❞
❝ The sky is spinning. ❞
❝ My head is hurting. ❞

Just Go:

❝I know your heart isn’t with me. ❞
❝ Baby please say nothing. ❞
❝ It wasn’t me. ❞
❝ Be more honest with yourself.❞
❝ It’s not like you will pay attention. ❞
❝ It’s okay to go. ❞
❝ I’ll only accept that. ❞
❝ Don’t worry about me. ❞
❝ Just go. ❞
❝ I’ll let go of the hand that I held before I change my mind.   ❞
❝ Don’t regret it. ❞
❝ Don’t be sorry to me. ❞
❝ We weren’t fated. ❞
❝ I don’t know how it’ll be for you, but every night will be gloomy for me.  ❞
❝ I’m dumping you now. ❞
❝ It was messed up from the beginning.❞
❝ I’ll hope for the happiness you couldn’t have with me.❞

My Type:

❝ You’re my type. ❞
❝ Even if you don’t say anything, I have a feeling. ❞
❝ From your head to your toes, everything. ❞
❝ When I look at you, I want you so bad I go crazy.   ❞
❝ I think about you. ❞
❝ It all looks so pretty to me. ❞
❝ Why did you come now? ❞
❝ There is no flaw anywhere. ❞
❝ You’re perfect. ❞
❝ We’re getting closer. ❞
❝ Can I ask you something? ❞
❝ I like it babe. ❞
❝ I really like you. ❞
❝ Even when you yawn sometimes, it’s my style. ❞
❝ We have a good connection. ❞
❝ Every time you call my name, I can’t stop smiling. ❞
❝ You know that I love you. ❞

Rhythm Ta:

❝ What’re you doing? ❞
❝ We’re not picky. ❞
❝ We don’t try to act cool. ❞
❝ We’re having fun, what other reason do you need? ❞
❝ It’ll be a compliment. ❞
❝ Come and get it. ❞
❝ The music is playing, everyone is humming along. ❞
❝ Tonight, get ready to die. ❞
❝ Time is like looking at gold like it’s a valueless stone. ❞
❝ Don’t act like a hotshot. ❞
❝ I know you wanna play. ❞
❝ This isn’t a chance that comes every day. ❞
❝ If you miss it, you might regret it. ❞
❝ Don’t regret the things you’re gonna regret before you regret it.   ❞
❝ There’s no meaning. ❞
❝ We’re a bit delinquent. ❞
❝ Turn up the volume. ❞

What’s Wrong:

❝ I’m scared. ❞
❝ Is hanging out with my friends for the first time in a while such a big crime? ❞
❝ Your attitude says that everything I say is wrong. ❞
❝ It’s making me uncomfortable.    ❞
❝ You only think about yourself.   ❞
❝ It’s always my fault. ❞
❝ I don’t know why you’re crying. ❞
❝ I can’t take it anymore. ❞
❝ What did I do wrong? ❞
❝ Tell me, what’s wrong this time? ❞
❝ What do you mean, nothing? ❞
❝ I’m tired of fighting. ❞
❝ Let’s stop this now. ❞
❝ You won’t believe what I say anyway. ❞
❝ Can’t I see that beautiful smile again? ❞
❝ I give you love, but I’m only getting scars. ❞
❝ Where did our good times go? ❞

When she was younger her mother always told her that heartbeats are supposed to sound like the beating of a drum, the cadence of a poem, the sound of tender lips and soft kisses.
When she was younger her father always told her that heartbeats are supposed to sound like shattering glass, dashingly broken, claw marks on delicate flesh.
Why, if that’s the case, is it that with him her heartbeats sound like the thrumming rhythm of waves that break against the cliffs, flooding the shores to wash everything away?
—  r.m | Excerpts #39

McReyes Spring Break: Firsts

The first time Gabriel heard McCree sing, it was under the stars in their little Blackwatch caravan. The agents were gathered by the fire, swaying and laughing as McCree tapped his drum to an rhythm that sounded ancient. He spoke words none of them understood, but they felt it, the raw emotion and happiness he soothed them. The fire became warmer, their spirits softer. Rest was easy that night. Before he knew it McCree was curled at his side, humming gently. They slept well that night.

The first time Jesse heard Reaper sing, it was the dead of night, in a small town in the middle of nowhere. An ex-Blackwatch agent called him for help, that The Reaper was coming for him. The howls chilled McCree to the bone, he could feel his heart in his throat, thumping harder the closer the eerie calls became. He didn’t realize he was paralyzed, curled in a corner crying until the sound had stopped, until Evans was a dead husk in the room next door. All he could feel was the pain the song wrought. Fear, sorrow, and pure burning fury. 

Clean

clean, down knees, dry
red, browning cement,
bleach bubbling
pleasant, swish swish wish of brush
sound rhythm, focus on

clean, bubbles foam,
epileptic floor,
convulsing,
foam, sickly, vomiting pink
trace of eyes, cemented,
pouring out
of me

@katrinnac

related to this post, which shows that stephanie’s name was at one point gonna be steffany in the english version

i noticed that in the theme song, the line “stephanie is new in town” is paced in such a way that it does make it sound like it would say steffany instead

idk maybe back when they were making the song the spelling was still steffany, and thats why the rhythm in that part is like that

Claire's Theme
Super Lesbian Animal RPG
Claire's Theme

HERE WE G O

first in this week’s line up of [SLURP] music, a theme for Claire!

with SLARPG’s new protagonists, i wanted to create themes that would speak to each of the characters’ personalities. @ponett​ described Claire as someone who means well, but whose know-it-all tendencies can make her seem intimidating, bossy, and even reckless. nonetheless, she believes she’s doing the right thing and really wants to prove she’s a good friend.

with this track, i hoped to capture Claire’s awkwardness and know-it-all-itude while still keeping an optimistic vibe to the song. the odd rhythm (7/4 time!) keeps things just a beat shy of symmetrical to represent Claire’s tendency for good intentions falling through. meanwhile, her brainy qualities come through as a super patternistic arrangement: each instrument plays very strict and mathy-sounding rhythms and melodies in each section.

i geeked out a lot while making new tracks, which made me think of how something magic happens when you get to nerd all over your passion—and since Claire’s nerd passion is witchcraft, it seemed fitting to let some of that rigid mathiness loosen up and bring in some mystical vibes with smooth sax action (saxion???), to end on a note that ultimately says “this is what i love.”

also, lots of cowbell LOL

very very excited for the next theme coming up—i’ll be posting it in a couple days. stay tuned!

instagram

He has OUTSTANDING rhythms & crisp sounds!


“Butterfly” by Jason Mraz | Choreography & Danced by Anthony Morigerato

thevikingwoman  asked:

for DWC: . mist enveloping dark pines :)

for @dadrunkwriting, @thevikingwoman and @fatale-distraction


Attention! Very sappy :) Solas doing some (lovestruck) soul-searching.


Inspiration:

Look at this: http://amburuthings.tumblr.com/post/149334018184 by http://amburuthings.tumblr.com/

Listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_VCbnqbwwA



He takes a slow, deep breath, trying to slow the beating of his heart. Its soft thudding sounds seem out of rhythm with the noises of a forest at night - the melodious hum of the crickets and the birds’ last chirrups of the day - as he attempts to clear his head and listen to his own thoughts.

Every time he closes his eyes the image of her this afternoon ghosts before his closed lids. There were autumn-leaves in her hair when she finally returned to camp a few hours back; he’d been looking for her, against his better judgment, and attempting to avoid raising the suspicions of their companions and the Inquisition’s many helpers who are travelling with them. He had found himself unable to stay away, and even though he’d had no clear idea of what to talk about when he would eventually find her sitting under a tree or working to help with the many tasks at hand, he’d still kept looking.

But he hadn’t found her. She had left the camp and walked off by herself, where to he didn’t know; when he asked where she’d been, a tinge of annoyed impatience in his voice - betraying just a little too much of his eagerness - she simply smiled, her eyes downcast, and an irresistible blush creeping up her cheeks, and didn’t answer.

But no opportunity to talk to her again presented itself for the rest of the day; and so, when night was falling and he found himself unable to sleep, he got up out of his uncomfortable and too-cold bedroll with an irritated huff and left the camp quietly, but not without slowing down his agitated steps almost imperceptibly when passing her tent. He’d hoped that his restless heart might still as the world around him stilled, the trilling chirps of birds replaced by night-time’s perfect silence. He thought he might be able to wallow undisturbed in his boyish infatuation, a little ways away from the crowded camp.

But unlike so many times before when he found refuge in nature’s stillness to search his own mind in peace, he now realizes that there’s no such peace to be had here either.

The last traces of a late summer day’s sunset have vanished on the horizon now, and the silvery shadows cast by a few wispy clouds that are drifting along the twinkling canvas of the midnight sky are dancing through the branches of the trees and over the mossy forest ground.

But Solas almost doesn’t notice the beauty he’s surrounded by; the only beauty his longing mind seems to recognise anymore is hers. The nightingales’ tuneful song seems to urge him on, telling him to listen to the flutter of his heart; He struggles with the uneasy confusion of not knowing his own mind and its relentless and uneven beating makes him fidget constantly with unrest. He finds that the soft tingling of wet grass against the back of his hand, which is hanging limply down his side, is distracting him; as is the gentle pressure of cold hard stone against his lower back. There’s a tension in him he hasn’t felt in a long time, and it takes him several long moments of staring at the stars above, his brow creased slightly with confusion, to figure out what it is.

He’s in-

He gives another exasperated and irritated sigh, trying to keep himself from even thinking it.

This is ridiculous. He is even older than the ancient trees he is surrounded by, older than this forest, older than the statue on whose back he is reclining - and far, far older than the soul he is contemplating now. He should know every last corner of his own mind far better and more completely than any other living being could say of themselves. He has seen countless ages pass, the rise and fall of civilisations - all of which were sworn to outlast the centuries and didn’t; but he is still here, still enduring the constant struggles and the numberless blows that life deals out each day. He was there to witness each and every one of mankind’s unsteady, ever-changing ideas of how the world works come and go and come again more times than he can count. None of them ever achieved a sense for what they’re made of or what they were once meant for. None of them even came close to the wisdom he was born into.

But with a resigned sigh he finds that he has to admit to himself that, apparently, the thing he knows the least about is his own nature.

Here he is, a man so old the humans he lives with now could hardly even grasp the concept, and at the same time a love-sick whelp; he ponders all the things he has achieved, remembers all the corners of this vast world that he has travelled, the wonders he has seen in the next - an old soul, a dreamer suddenly so uneasy he cannot find sleep, of all things.

Instead, the memory of her, who should be so insignificant compared to all that he has seen, haunts him even to those parts of his own mind that he thought he knew best. It is absurd.

And yet.

Maybe this rather arrogant assumption of superiority is precisely what is keeping him from understanding himself. He may be old, wise even, a soul that has grown, steady and smooth, intent and deliberate; but becoming that man has also cost him dearly. He never really lets the idea surface and work its way to the forefront of his mind - not fully - but it always lurks beneath; that distant memory of a man that isn’t called a god or branded a traitor. And isn’t it this man’s nature to want this? To feel like this? To want to love and be loved in return - and he finds that he can answer this question. He can accept that beneath the layers of hurt and beneath his strong sense for the fulfilment of his duty there are still the yearnings of a living, breathing being. And as the thought settles on his mind, the tension leaves his body, washed away by how he has reminded himself of a part of him he had long thought lost.

Suddenly, the soft tickle of the grass against his skin doesn’t bother him anymore, and he relaxes the muscles in his back to mould against the statue’s back rather than struggle against its gentle presses.

He takes another deep breath, calmer than before. And as he does, he notices the sweet and earthy smells of the forest in the warm night air. A sense of calm spreads from within and makes him feel that he and Nature are equals again as he revels in its beauty. The nightingale’s song doesn’t seem so irksome anymore, and suddenly he can’t remember why it bothered him before. Its languorous melodies speak of devotion, of tender aches and restless, joyful anticipation - an ode he would dedicate to her.

He can feel her here, sense how close she is. She is in the air around him, in the trees, the way the stars twinkle back at him from high above and the smell of wet grass that clings to the night. Something is coming. But the thought of what that something is doesn’t seem so threatening anymore, doesn’t seem to lurk in dark corners or hang heavily in the air, looming, like a coming storm. His restlessness changes into something sweet; a yearning he hasn’t known for a long time.

He misses her.

And as he grants himself this honesty, all at once the way forward seems clear. He still can’t know for certain how she might react to his fumbling attempts at making her see his love and whether she will accept him - he does not dare to hope. He cannot phrase this jittery feeling in such a way that she might understand his meaning without it losing the subtlety he means to preserve so as to not overwhelm with his words. But maybe she can tell by the way his voice sometimes stumbles nervously, or how he always needs something for his hands to hold onto when his knees feel shaky when they speak - his way of trying to keep himself grounded.

However he is going to do it, whatever they are going to talk about - he will go to her, he has to see her. Now.

He swings his legs lightly to the side and gets up from where he has been reclining on the back of the statue of a wolf raised in the middle of a clearing; and he walks off, back to camp, a new spring in his step, without looking back. If he had looked back, the sight of the now abandoned clearing and its lonely, stony occupant on whose back he has been lying for most of the night reminding himself of his feeling nature, might have reminded him, instead, of another part of him, a different part; the part that could easily wreck his new found resolution to give in to the gentle beatings of his heart, if the thought of her hadn’t swept it out of his head for now.

But Solas keeps his eyes fixed ahead to where he can see the golden glow of the still burning campfires dancing between the tall trees. It’s almost morning now - she might be up already - and a mist begins to envelop the still dark pines as a new day is dawning.

Myers Briggs Music Tastes

ISTJ: Most likely music tastes: rock, alternative, pop. Appreciates the sound and rhythm of the music more than the meaning behind the lyrics. 

ISFJ: Most likely music tastes: soft rock, alternative, indie. Appreciates emotionally evocative music. Appreciates the sound and rhythm of the music more than the meaning behind the lyrics. 

INFJ: Most likely music tastes: indie rock, classical, folk. Appreciates deep, meaningful lyrics and emotionally evocative music. 

INTJ: Most likely music tastes: electronic, classical, metal. Likes dark and structurally complex pieces of music. Appreciates meaningful lyrics. 

ISTP: Most likely music tastes: classic rock, metal, alternative. Appreciates the sound and rhythm of the music more than the meaning behind the lyrics. 

ISFP: Most likely music tastes: rock, classical, alternative. Appreciates the rhythms and beat of songs and is very sensitive to the type of emotion the music evokes. 

INFP: Most likely music tastes: rock, metal, folk. Appreciates deep, meaningful lyrics and emotionally evocative music.

INTP: Most likely music tastes: rock, classical, metal. Likes dark and structurally complex pieces of music. Appreciates meaningful lyrics.

ESTP: Most likely music tastes: hip hop, electronic, rap. Likes fast-paced music that can be danced to, but doesn’t care as much about the actual lyrics.

ESFP: Most likely music tastes: alternative, rock, rap. Likes fast-paced music that can be danced to, but doesn’t care as much about the actual lyrics. Appreciates emotionally evocative music.

ENFP: Most likely music tastes: rock, alternative, pop. Appreciates deep, meaningful  lyrics and emotionally evocative music. Likes fast-paced, upbeat music. Eclectic taste.

ENTP: Most likely music tastes: rock, blues, indie. Eclectic taste. Appreciates meaningful lyrics.

ESTJ: Most likely music tastes: rock, electronic, pop. Appreciates the sound and rhythm of the music more than the meaning behind the lyrics. 

ESFJ: Most likely music tastes: musicals, pop, country. Appreciates emotionally evocative music. Appreciates the sound and rhythm of the music more than the meaning behind the lyrics. 

ENFJ: Most likely music tastes: world music, indie, alternative. Appreciates deep, meaningful lyrics and emotionally evocative music.

ENTJ: Most likely music tastes: rock, alternative, indie. Appreciates meaningful lyrics. Likes music that pumps them up and energizes them to accomplish tasks.