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whatsupitsthatkai · 5 years

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The Hardest Thing.

| Trigger Warning: suicidal thoughts/intentions - loss - grief - blood - death mention |

The air was biting.

It stuck needle teeth into his scarred flesh, sinking down, down, down, until they pierced his bones, digging into the marrow and spreading ice through his entire body.

He didn't care.

He was numb.

Fingers and toes slowly losing feeling, his cheeks nearly purple from the chill. The snow felt sharp beneath him. Halos of pink surrounded his feet from where his soles had bled, warm blood slowly staining the pure white.

The bandages wrapped around his chest and left shoulder felt stiff, dried blood and cold sweat from the nightmares had frozen when he had wandered out in the night.

It was almost morning now. The world had turned from black to grey, the horizon gradually growing lighter and lighter as the minutes ticked by.

How long had he been here? How far had he wandered? He couldn't remember.

He didn't care.

As if his mind were floating outside his body, he vaguely registered that he had been crying. Tears still built in his eyes, leaking out to wind their way down slowly until they froze against his scarred face. His eyes hurt. Everything hurt. It had never stopped hurting, not even once.

Six months.

Six months, one week, four days.

He had been suffering for six months, one week, and four days. In all his years of agonizing transformations -having skin and bone ripped and broken and knit and stitched back together over and over again- he had never experienced such utter, desperate, unforgiving, pain as he had for the last six months, one week, and four days.

He lowered his gaze from its blank vigil on the horizon, down, down, down, to icy water below.

Would he hit the rocks, he wondered? Or would the water claim him, pulling him deep until there was nothing but dark again.

It would be quick. A short flight- no -a short fall. His wings had long since been broken.

He was already so close, right on the edge, again. So close.

There was no one to stop him this time.

No one.

They were all gone.

One step. That's all it would take. Then all of the suffering would be over. He would see them again, wouldn't he? He wasn't sure anymore. Life had never been so kind, why should death?

But even still, the pain would end.

He took a deep breath, his feet crunching in the snow as he shifted his weight.

The air left his lungs shakily. He was trembling. He was frightened. Frightened of taking that step, frightened not to take it. And so he stood, and he trembled. And he suffered.

Their faces played in his mind, like the pictures in his photo album.

Marlene, with her million dollar smile, lipstick red enough to put the Gryffindor colors to shame.

Dorcas, steady and true as an oak, fiercely loyal and unwaveringly honest.

Mary, who always knew the right thing to say.

Frank and Alice, the quiet couple who grew together like young saplings.

He choked on a sob as his chest constricted.

Lily, the kindest soul he would ever know, who knew his secret halfway through first year and was the first person at Hogwarts to give him a hug.

James, determined to be friends no matter how much pestering it took. The bravest and most selfless man he had ever met.

Peter, poor, sweet, Peter. Always there to listen, who stood up for his friends even when he was scared, who had learned basic healing just to help in any way he could.

Siri-

He dropped his head to his chest, nails digging into numb palms until blood dropped to the snow. And he screamed.

He screamed until his voice gave out and his chest ached, throat raw and burning.

Lifting his head to the sky, he cried out. A small broken thing, weak and shaking.

The last howl of a dying wolf.

Memories plagued his mind like a twisted play. The sound of their laughter, the nights spent roaming the hills, the days spent in class or goofing off. James and Lily’s wedding. His and Sirius’ shitty little flat. His mother dying. Marlene and Dorcas getting engaged. Death. Death. Death. Gone. Alone.

He turned back to the water below. One step. No one to stop him. This was it.

“Lupin!”

The wind blew. The water roared far below. And Remus Lupin, stood frozen on a ledge.

“Lupin, you get down from there this instant!”

Without turning, he took a shuddering breath. “I’m so tired. I can't-” his shoulders sagged, voice raw, barely above a whisper, “I just want it to be over.”

“Do you think this is what James and Lily would want? Or Peter? Or any of them? Do you?”

Finally turning his head, he looked down at his former teacher through his tears. Minerva McGonagall had her lips drawn in a thin line, face as stern and unyielding as he'd ever seen it.

“What- What am I without them, Professor? What am I?” He ground his teeth, bloody palms reaching up to clutch at his chest as he screamed. “What am I?! Nothing! I am nothing without them, I can't- I have nothing left!” His voice broke and his hands dropped. “Nothing…”

She stepped forward, drawing closer until she was directly beside his place on the wall. “You have the duty to live. For them. You dishonor them by even thinking of doing such a thing as this.”

Remus’ breaths were broken by sharp gasps as he struggled to breathe through his tears.

Minerva McGonagall reached her hand up to him. “Live, Remus. Live for them, and keep them alive in your memory. Live so that one day you can tell Harry Potter about his parents.” The sun broke through the horizon and the golden light glittered in the tears that dropped from her eyes. “Live.”

Remus Lupin stood on the edge of a bridge. The sun bathing him in gold. Tears and blood staining his skin. Body and soul aching.

And with one final breath-

He took her hand.

#wendywrites #hp fic #Harry Potter fanfiction #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal intentions #tw: blood #tw: grief #tw: death mention #tw: grieving #tw: loss #tw: depression #Hi hello I havent really proof read this also its midnight and i am in pain #so here ya go!#have a nice serving of angst

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viruswithsaas · 6 years

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2017

Just done my last radioshow of the year, absolute shitperformance, and I won’t be on the air until the third of january. It seemed like a good idea to put the spotlight on my favourites records of the year. So instead of a playlist, here’s a blogpost.

TOP 10 ------------------

(In almost no particular order)

1. “The Assassination of Julius Caesar” - Ulver. A brilliant, mysterious album that explores the mechanisms behind the rise and fall of icons. Seen the many celebrity deaths and scandals surrounding moguls in the entertainment industry, the timing of its release was spot on. Musically it is comfortably seated between Massive Attack and Depeche Mode. An old school album where nothing is mixed IN YOUR FACE.

2. “Sacred” - The Obsessed. Let’s be honest, it is basically another Scott “Wino” Weinrich record but even at the age of 56(!) he sounds meaner than 99% of the extreme metal players out there and the man can still come up with riffs that can bite through steel cables and juicy leads. Still, it has been a while since he has sounded this badass and angry. As expected his style is firmly rooted in 70’s and 80’s metal/punk but with a deliverance like his, who gives a fuck?

3. “Nåde” - Område. Perhaps the sound of metal in the future. Studio-based but eclectic, adventurous and exciting.

4. “New Model” - Perturbator. Hands down my favourite electronic release of the year. Gone is the camp and the 80’s pastiche and in came 2017 with phat synths, earthquaking basslines and fresh beats. Heavier than most metal records I’ve heard all year.

5. “Okovi” - Zola Jesus. Anti-pop that brings together industrial beats and gothic esthetic in a slick mix. For those who can set aside their frame of mind, a gentle mindfuck.

6. “Ispahan” - Fantoompijn. Epic post rock, on the same level as veterans Mono and Godspeed You! Black Emperor in terms of composition, deliverance and intensity.

7. “Story of M” - Shrine of August. A mature, well balanced prog metal album with the most gorgeous vocal work I’ve heard all year.

8. “Devil is Fine” - Zeal & Ardor. A vivid, evil mix between furious black metal and wailing gospel.

9. “Alive” - Krakow. A crisp registration of a stellar performance from this post metal band, ironically not from Poland but Bergen, Norway.

10.“The Spiralling Madness” - Ivolve & Etherik An album that elegantly mixes trip hop with retro rock.

Honorary mentions:

“Mareidt” - Myrkur

“Savage Sinusoid” - Igorrr

“Burst” - Brutus

“Obesitatas” - Kaasschaaf

“Mirror Reaper” - Bell Witch

“Before the Applause” - Re-TROS

“De Kenny’s gaan in het rood” - De Kenny’s

“The Orphic” - Wells Valley

Duds:

S/T - Prophets of Rage: a cynical moneygrab with one decent track and fluff.

S/T - Powerflo: subpar performance from otherwise decent musicians and a terrible MC.

S/T - Crystal Fairy: musically one of the best things The Melvins have ever done but singer Teri Gender Bender butches it up.

“Gargoyle” - Mark Lanegan: rather uninspired album and Mark Lanegan is trying to catch up with himself.

“Villains” - Queens of the Stone Age: yet another forgettable record.

“Humanz” - Gorillaz: gone are the lush production, gorgeous arrangements and tasty keyboards, instead the band served the audience a mixtape of undercooled clubtracks, on top of that six months after the release trap exploded thus completely outdating the album before it even hit its first anniversary mark. Looking forward to; The new Nightstalker [BE](?) The new Dol Ammad (?) “Marrow Hymns” - Insect Ark (february ‘18) “Anatomical Venus” - Black Moth (januari ‘18) “Dead Prophets & Unsung Messiahs” - Orphaned Land (januari ‘18) “Mindfucker” - Monster Magnet (march ‘18) “To Walk Amongst Them, Unnoticed” - Black Narcissus (januari ‘18) The new Tool album (december 2018? 3018?) - Ivo VirusWithShoes

#list #so long 2017 #ulver #the assassination of julius caesar #the obsessed #Omrade #perturbator

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aldridge · 7 years

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Things I Liked in 2016

Mark O'Connell reviews a book of Gerry Adams's tweets

Janet Malcolm profiles the pianist Yuja Wang

FILMS: The best things I saw in the cinema this year were old. Shoah, Claude Lanzmann's nine-hour documentary about Holocaust is imperfect but essential. Four scenes that will stay with me for a very long time: the bartender pouring drinks ("Mr Oberhauser, do you remember Belzec?"); the letter about the trucks ("the following technical changes are needed"); the scene in the barber shop ("We must go on"); the final scene ("I'm the last Jew"). Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds is underrated, if it's possible for a Hitchcock film to be underrated. I like Geoff Dyer's take on the film – I don't believe it for a moment, but I don't think he does either. But more than these two films specifically, this should be taken as a general recommendation of watching old films in the cinema. | Of new stuff, I'd pick Arrival or the one-shot Victoria

Citizen Khan is the best piece about a murdered Afghan Muslim tamale vendor in mid-century Wyoming I read all year

TV: O.J.: Made in America is about two things: OJ Simpson, and everything else. Here, "everything else" includes sport, economic inequality, law enforcement, television, celebrity, capitalism, politics, misogyny (although perhaps insufficiently so), drugs, journalism, the legal system, and, of course, race. It's seven-and-a-half hours long, and it's barely long enough. | By being the funniest thing I saw all year, Fleabag tricked me into thinking it wouldn't also be the most tragic. | The "San Junipero" episode of Black Mirror | The last ever episode of Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle was also the best. | The SNL "Black Jeopardy" sketch

I made this because I thought it was funny, although no one else did.

David's Ankles ("The first thing to hit the floor is his bent left elbow, the arm that holds the heroic sling, and it bursts along the lines of its previous breaks, old scars left over from an incident in the 16th century involving an unruly mob and a bench. Then the rest of the marble will meet the floor, and the physics from there will be fast and simple: force, resistance, the brittleness of calcite crystals, the shearing of microscopic grains along the axes on which they align. Michelangelo’s David will explode.")

youtube

MUSIC: Best album: Predictably, I choose Radiohead's hyphenlessly-titled A Moon Shaped Pool (runners-up: Bon Iver's 22, A Million and PJ Harvey's under-praised The Hope Six Demolition Project) Joint award for best single/best video: six-way tie between Burn the Witch [above], Lazarus, Drone Bomb Me, Fuck with Myself, Voodoo in My Blood, Nobody Speak | Best thematically related (?) reissued albums: Illinois by Sufjan Stevens and Boys for Pele by Tori Amos | Best Eurovision song contest-winning song about the historical geopolitics (and obliquely about the current geopolitics) of the Crimea: 1944 by Jamala | Best musical sung in the style of (and by the cast of) a different musical: Hamilton/Sweeney Todd | a playlist

BOOKS: The Lonely City by Olivia Laing (excerpt) | When in French by Lauren Collins (excerpt)

"Your Honor, if it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly."

The Queen getting excited by cows has kept me amused today. pic.twitter.com/8ht0yDFwOJ

— SimonNRicketts (@SimonNRicketts) June 20, 2016

PODCASTS: This American Life at a Greek refugee camp (part 1, part 2) | The Reply-All phone-in show | Short clips from The New Yorker Radio Hour: at a high-school mock election (part 1, part 2); meeting a bee-stylist | Malcolm Gladwell's Revisionist History on the Toyota acceleration scandal | The Slate Culture Gabfest: for example, this discussion of names (from 33:30), or Dana's Bob Ross endorsement (from 57:00)

Christine Who Fed the Hungry: Emily Gould on volunteering in a New York soup kitchen, and the woman who ran it

"I Cooked Jeremy Corbyn’s Marrow Recipe And Had Some Thoughts About The Labour Party"

We didn't start the fire It was always burning since the world's been turning pic.twitter.com/9LIb6qbdn8

— #JAMWAH2017 (@JAM_WAH) December 18, 2016

New Yorker writers' encounters with Shakespeare. (I think I've put too many New Yorker links in this list, but it's too late now...)

OLD THINGS I CAME ACROSS THIS YEAR: Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell (Some unrequested advice: read Appendix I in its original place, and don't bother with Appendix II) | "Scorpio sphinx in a calico dress" | "Golden age" Hollywood films, which I"m arbitrarily defining to be sound films before 1965. Some favourites in approximate light-to-dark order: It Happened One Night (feather-light), The Philadelphia Story (James Stewart is funny drunk), everything by Howard Hawks, The Wizard of Oz (perfect), Casablanca (almost as good as To Have and Have Not), everything by Alfred Hitchcock, Double Indemnity ("There was no way in all this world I could have known that murder sometimes can smell like honeysuckle"), All About Eve (better than Sunset Blvd), On the Waterfront (Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint are excellent), In a Lonely Place (super-depressing ending). | A Manifesto from People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction

Notes on dancers by Zadie Smith

Found Sonnet: The Wig by Rita Dove | Elegy for Pedals (the walking bear) by Michael Robbins

Previously: Things I liked in 2015, 2014

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