#How to Draw a Saxophone for Kids Easy Step by Step

[themusicview]

Bon Iver: A Retrospective

I think it’s fair to say that, after 10 Years, 4 albums, and 1 EP, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver has established a formula.  Not in the traditional sense, bands like Fleetwood Mac or Maroon 5 are well known for having formulas, but in the sense that his music tends to be about the same thing.  Whether the stripped back, wintery beauty of For Emma, Forever Ago, or the electronic chaos of 22, A Million, Vernon trains his lyrical camera entirely on himself.  Emma is about his failings as a lover, Blood Bank is about recalling the good times, Self Titled is about his past as viewed through age and significant dates. 22 is about his longing to grow past his current place, and his latest album, 2019’s i,i, is about finally coming home.

We begin our tour with For Emma, Forever Ago, the demo tape that was so good it was pretty much released as is.  The story behind Bon Iver’s debut is so poetic, it is told over and over again in the band’s mythology.  After a particularly difficult run of Irish luck in which his former band, DeYarmond Edison, broke up, his girlfriend left him, and he contracted a one two punch of pneumonia and mono, he sequestered himself in a cabin in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and wrote and recorded For Emma over the course of one very intense winter.  He submitted the demo tape to the indie album Jagjaguar, where it was immediately accepted and sent to print with very minor revisions to add extra instrumentation and clean up the mix.  The album opens with the beautifully atmospheric Flume, a bare guitar emphasized by snowy static and Vernon’s clear, bell like voice.  “I am my mother’s only one”, he mournfully cries, “It’s enough.”  The main idea contained throughout the album is loneliness, and the album’s mix as well as its lyrics go a long way to establishing this theme.  The two standout tracks for establishing this mood the most potently are the third track, Skinny Love, where Vernon laments a love that simply is not going to plan, and the album closer, Re:Stacks, a mournful ballad about being unable to move forward despite being already packed.  It’s no surprise that this track would end pretty much every early Bon Iver show.  This is not to say that the album is entirely without lushness; the side 1 closer The Wolves Pt II is a textbook example of how to build a crescendo in a folk song, showing off Vernon’s aptitude for mood that would become fully fleshed out in later releases.  In retrospect, For Emma is an incredibly strong debut and an album that works well as a thesis for the later parts of the band’s career.

Following the relatively minor release Blood Bank, a 4 track EP that is only notable for the song Woods, a track built entirely out of acapella autotuned vocals and a track that gained the notice of Kanye West, Vernon and his entourage recorded and released Bon Iver’s self titled album in 2011.  This album marked a sea change in the way that Vernon approached the project.  As opposed to the quiet, stripped back sound of For Emma, the self titled album is lush, full sounding, and packed with swelling crescendos and massive climaxes, as if Sigur Ros decided to make folk music.  Tracks such as the beautiful, soaring Perth and the subtle, yet beautiful Michican’t do a great job at providing a lush, pillowy bed of sound that you can just lie in.  However, the true standout of the album is the closing track, Beth Rest, which adds a new toolkit to the Bon Iver sound; electronics.  Granted, these are 1980s power electronics, but they are electronics none the less.  Vernon also goes one step further and blankets his voice in copius amounts of autotune.  The result is something beautiful, yet distant.  As Vernon puts it, “It is the sound of doing something you want to do with absolutely no restraint.”  Bon Iver would go on to be Justin Vernon’s first true success with the group, earning him critical accolades and a truly wide audience, which resulted in him being nominated for, and subsequently winning, the best new artist grammy award in 2011.  Personally, I feel that Bon Iver is the moment when the group truly found its sound, grandiosity and beauty, but filtered through reality and experience.

After the wild success that the self titled album brought him, Vernon put the project on indefienate hold.  He stated that he wanted to decompress for a while and for that to happen, Bon Iver had to take a break.  He didn’t know when, or if, the project would return, and many fans feared the breakup of the band.  During this time, he would only release an itunes session of material from the self titled albums, but no new songs were released.  During this time, he would help Kanye West record two albums, and would work on several side projects.  Bon Iver returned in 2016 with 22, A Million, by far the projects’ most ambitious output and it’s most musically dense.  In a strange move for a folk act, the album contains almost no acoustic instruments.  The album is as lush and beautiful as the self titled album that made the project famous, but takes that lushness in a different, icier direction.  Songs like “22 (OVER S∞∞N)" and, "10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⚄ ⚄" reveal a sharper, more electronic form of songwriting.  Comparisons to Everything in it’s Right Place and The National Anthem off of Radiohead’s Kid A are only too easy to make.  However, this is not to say that all feeling has been drained from the record; tracks such as 29 Stafford Appts. and 8 (Circle) are only too happy to indulge in the previous beauty of earlier releases, with saxophone arrangements by Sad Sax of Shit soaring above Vernon’s autotuned vocals.  22, A Million is a mixed bag of an album.  Certain tracks such as the aforementioned 10, are too dense and difficult for me to truly enjoy, but the album makes a brilliant case for the new direction of the band.  I was left disappointed, but excited to see where the group would go next.

Thankfully for fans who embraced this new direction, Vernon was much quicker on the draw for his next album.  In 2019, when Bon Iver released their fourth album I,i, which feels, for all intents and purposes, like a refinement of what Vernon tried on 22, A Million.  Tracks such as iMi and Holyfields feel like a softer, easier listen than most of the material on 22, A Million. The instrumentation feels more controlled, tighter written than what we saw on his previous efforts.  There is little that sounds accidental, especially when compared to For Emma, which is an album nearly full of accident.  However, this precision does not mean that Vernon sacrifices any of his songwriting beauty.  Hey, ma, and U (man like) is one of the best one two punches in modern folk.  Hey, ma is a lush, dense electronic song about forgetting your roots.  “Tall time to talk your money up while it’s living in a coal mine” chastises Vernon, speaking to someone whose dreams are, perhaps, too big for their small pocketbook.  U (man like) is about improving yourself through constant work and effort. I,i feels like a fitting bookend to Bon Iver’s current discography.  It is Vernon’s most carefully crafted album but also one of his most obviously personal.  There is little that you cannot feel as Vernon does on this album.

There is this idea in music criticism called the best new artist’s curse. The idea is that the best new artist’s Grammy award for any particular year usually goes to flash in the pan artists who end up not contributing anything and flaming out after one album.  Of course, there are exceptions to this rule, but for every Beatles and Mariah Carey, there is at least five Starlight Vocal Bands.  It is my personal belief that the indie music scene is better for Justin Vernon not being one of these artsits.  Bon Iver has accomplished much over it’s decade long existance, and Vernon has established himself as one of the premiere artists of indie folk.  Not a flash in the pan, but one of the most brilliant songwriters of our generation.

[music-in-my-sol]

quotes from the music department

*Repeatedly sings part of the music in scat*

“Ben swore to Jesus that if he didn’t help me at the concert he’d do thirty push-ups in front of the entire band, and I’m just as excited for this as you guys are.”

“If it were easy, football players would be doing this”

“We were 4.75 points off of the next band, and I’ll make certain this number will haunt you until next season.”

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a rough week.”

“I’ll just get a golf cart to follow the band in the parade. Maybe one day I’ll play a halftime show in a golf cart, all by myself.”

“No, Danny, you’re not starting a group chat for jazz.”

“Someone made me a 22&½-inch stick to measure steps. Don’t make me use it.”

“Trumpets, raise your right hand, and move it over to the person next to you. You’ll be fingering the notes on their trumpet.” *leans over to woodwinds* “this is gonna be really funny”

“We don’t have Thursday night rehearsal this week, so live the lives you have outside of band. So basically, catch up on homework.”

“Here it is– wait no, that’s 32 pages, that’s not right.”

“Before we step off on Saturday, you need to focus and say the following prayer”

“All the freshmen are on break, none of them are here!” *section leader raises hand* “Adeline’s here” “She’s the only one ADELINE WHY DONT YOU TAKE BREAKS IN THE STANDS”

“I hope this is loud enough, because this is as loud as its gonna get” *glares at the saxophone that forgot the speaker* “He forgot the speaker, my own flesh and blood.”

“As usual, the bassist knows the articulation and rhythms to the saxophone parts better than the saxophones do.”

*beatboxes to metronome*

“I want you to go home, do homework, practice, do more homework, have a milkshake, and practice some more.”

“If you want to annoy the heck out of a musician, play a cadence but leave out the last chord and wait like 20 minutes”

“this passage is called ‘Glendy Burk.’ I went to high school with her, actually.”

“you aren’t feeling well? Drugs?”

“while I was in the middle of complimenting you, you made a mistake”

“that saxophone line was jazzy as hell”

“you just have to play angrier”

“what’s the point if they’re all accented?”

“you squeaked in tune”

“can you take that d?”

“you can play my final pitch”

“imagine brass knuckles, but on a tambourine”

“I had to blow on my tongue”

“Bethany, you’re my number one!”

“the entire band is pianissimo, so play really loud. mezzo piano.”

“go through the head”

“BAD tambourine!!!”

“112 is the American tempo”

“the audience started clapping during the caesura. I didn’t know whether to continue on or leave the stage.”

“Matthew, while you were gone, Ed and I determined that you’re a freeloader”

“you came in early” “I don’t remember”

“did you just compare terrible bass parts to a terrorist attack?”

“Christ, Elizabeth, you’re such a violinist”

“All of our violas are at another rehearsal today, so we’ll begin today’s rehearsal with a prayer as that is the only thing that can save us.”

“We don’t have a spare bass bow to use while Ed’s is being rehaired, so you two are just gonna have to share. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Ah, yes, but what baroque style are we talkin’ here”

“It was at that point she handed the first chair violin a viola part. He proceeded to hand it back to her.”

“I went home and cradled that music. I never get original bass parts.”

“She turned the page in her score and forgot to continue conducting. Honestly, I would’ve been less surprised had she thrown her baton into the cello section”

“There are two basses in pit this year, so we’re an actual section, so he can’t just shove us in the corner this year HIGH FIVE”

“Does she really know how to buy a bow? She should make it a field trip so you get the right one.” *swings hands in air super wide* “it has to AGREE and BLEND with the instrument DO YOU SEE”

“When the orchestra director doesn’t know what to do she just asks the second chair. If he’s gone, she waits until a day he attends rehearsal to ask him.”

“Don’t be afraid to play out. Except during rests. Then you should be very afraid.”

“is it ok if I start to cry a little right now?”

“I had anaemia as a kid, and my schoolteacher’s name sounded like ‘anaemia’, so naturally, I hated her”

“she took the pen out of my hand and said, ‘no, Richard, use pencil.’ I was so mad”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that there are fewer bassists today and higher rates of suicide, gang violence, school shootings...”

“channel your inner Whitney Houston”

“play quietly, like you’re about to wake a baby. except you’re the baby, because you didn’t practice”

“I have another metronome app now. I collect them.”

“if someone calls my bass a cello one more time I’m gonna lose it”

“at the gig, a drunk guy came up to me, pointed to my harp, and called it a sideways piano”

“I want the space between these notes to be so big you can fit a little drawing of a house, a sun, a tree, and little dog in there.”

“90º angle notes”

“I want the sixteenth notes so sharp they could kill a man”

“turn the soundbox on”

“do you have a fancy phone? the answer is yes, yes you do.”

“I listened to the narration a few times before realising it was in German”

“I’ve got, like, four copies of that piece. the conductor keeps forgetting that I already have it and makes me a new copy.”

“soon I’ll have AIDS. Hearing aids, I mean. I’m old, is what I’m saying”

“more birdlike, turn on roundabout faster”

“kissing from the left is different from kissing from the right. not that I would know. asking for a friend.”

[chatcolat]

Harlem Saints Chapter 2

Nico and Bianca grow up in Italian Harlem with their mom during WWII and form a group of superheros with a bunch of other halfbloods to save the city from monsters. 

There were around three hundred boys in attendance at St. Francis, the Catholic boys’ school on the edge of East Harlem, and only one was black. His name was Hernando Joaquin Vasquez. His father was a poet in Black Harlem as well as a jazz musician who played at the nightclubs where only wealthy white people went. He was pretty famous, even in Little Italy. Joaquin’s mother was Athena, goddess of war and creativity. This little fact was known only to his father, the di Angelos, and Marcella.

Joaquin was not the first Black Harlem kid to attend the mostly Italian school, but he was the only one there now. They had wanted him to play basketball and offered him free tuition. The joke was, Joaquin didn’t play basketball, he wrote novels in and played saxophone in his spare time. He was also Nico’s best and only friend but their relationship was usually confined to the school grounds because neither felt particularly safe in the other’s part of the city.

Fate was a funny thing - something Nico believed in without much effort and something Joaquin said was full of shit. But Nico thought there was no way that of all the schools that could have offered Joaquin a spot, it was the one with another demigod. How could it not be fate when they ended up in the same class every year?

“Coincidence, my friend,” was Joaquin’s reply any time Nico brought it up. “If you start calling every miracle fate, then you give those blind old ladies too much power over you.”

It was the last day of school before summer vacation, the classroom was sweltering and the Tagliocozza brothers were up to their usual antics. Joaquin was reading a magazine while Nico skimmed the recent issue of Captain America. Three years in and it was still his favorite comic. He never missed an issue. Their art teacher was no where to be seen, as usual.

“di Angelo,” Tony Tagliocozza called from the front of the room where he and his brother wrote crude things on the blackboard.

Tony’s stupider clone, Benny, had just finished drawing poor representations of male geneaelia on the board. Nico secretly hoped the teacher would come back now and catch them in the act.

“di Angelo,” Tony repeated, walking down the row of desks towards him. Heads turned to watch his progress. Everyone knew that what would happen: The Tagliocozza’s would make a horrible joke about Maria di Angelo, the unmarried owner of a nice apartment complex having two children with her name, then Nico would punch them. The odds would be uneven, though Nico would hold his own, until Joaquin set down his magazine and stood up to join his friend. At some point a teacher would come in, the boys would laugh and pretend they were playing, and the fighting would halt until another day when the Tagliocozza boys were bored.

“I saw your mother down by Giretti’s last night,” Tony sneered. Giretti’s was the bar near Marcella’s house. It wasn’t necessarily a prostitution den, but that wasn’t to say that morally upstanding women went there. Nico knew for a fact Maria di Angelo had never set foot in such a place.

“You saw wrong, then,” Nico replied. Joaquin was still reading and Benny was still drawing on the board. Nico did not like being in fights because Maria did not like him being in them. Every time he came home with another black eye, he would find her crying later, when she thought no one was watching. It ate at him in a way nothing else could.

“She was with Marco Giretti,” the son of Antonio Giretti, a mobster, and an infamous playboy who was too young to interest the likes of Maria di Angelo anyways.

Nico stuck to Captain America taking on the Nazis. He longed to be a hero from his comics, fighting bad guys and saving people. Nico wanted to be like Steve Rodgers. After all, what was the purpose of being a demigod if all it meant was going to Catholic school and hiding from harpies? Instead of defending the world from fascism, he was stuck in art class, trying not to fight with Tony. It wasn’t the fighting or the glory and fame that he was drawn to, but the whole idea of making the world safe. When Steve Rodgers agreed to undergo an experimental procedure to become a super human, he hadn’t been thinking of what he could do for himself, but what he could do for others.

“Wanna know what she was doing with Marco Giretti, huh di Angelo?” Tony did not like being ignored. Nico was about to tell him to shove off when something outside the classroom window caught his eye. A flash of green and grey feathers - the harpy from yesterday.

“di Angelo, are you hearing me? I said-“

“Not now, Tagliocozza,” he stood up so suddenly, Tony, who had been leaning in right next to him, stumbled back. Joaquin was looking up now, a question in his eyes. Nico jerked his head towards the window and started walking out of the classroom.

“Hey! di Angelo! Where the hell do you think you’re going? Class isn’t changing yet!” Tony called after him. “What? Not you too, Vasquez!”

There had been one time, and only one time, when the harpies had found the school and it had been chaos. Reported as gang violence in the news, the whole auditorium had been wrecked during an assembly. Joaquin and Nico had only barely missed the claws that sought them.

“What is it?” Joaquin asked as he jogged to catch up with his friend.

“Harpy,” Nico replied. He had no clue where he was going, he just knew they needed to get away from other people.

“You’re walking like you have a plan, but you don’t, do you,” Joaquin commented as they reached the stairs at the end of the hall. They were on the third floor.

“Getting to the first floor where we can’t be dragged out a window is step one,” Nico made that decision on the spot.

“Then?”

“You’re the son of Athena, plans are your thing!” Nico was taking the steps two at a time. Despite what he said, he was still thinking over some possible plan. School was too far from Our Lady of Mount Carmel, they could never get there in time. The incense of regular churches was usually enough to keep them from being tracked or sniffed out, but once they had been found, it was useless.

“I feel like being around people is our best bet right now,” Joaquin was in step with him. “Otherwise we’re easy targets.”

Nico shook his head. “Then other people could get hurt.”

“Just trying to come up with a plan, here.” Joaquin sounded irritated. He was brilliant and didn’t like being told he wasn’t.

“I know, keep trying,” he tried to sound encouraging, but fear was starting to build up in his chest. Was it just him, or were monsters becoming more and more common lately? It was like the war in Europe had gotten them all stirred up and ready for trouble on this side of the pond as well.

“Statue of Gabriel in the chapel,” Joaquin almost shouted as they reached the first floor and he pivoted left down the hall to the chapel.

“What about it?” Nico tried not to slip on the recently mopped floor as he followed after him.

“He’s holding a sword.” When realization did not dawn on Nico’s face, Joaquin added, “It’s detachable. Was built separately. We can pull it out and use it.” They were running at this point, or at least as close to it as they could get without arousing the suspicion of the nuns. Even though he couldn’t see one and there were no classrooms in this hallway, the sisters always seemed to know the moment someone switched from a fast walk to a run and the last thing the boys needed was an angry nun.

“Wait. Are you saying… You want to use the sword of Gabriel to kill a harpy?”

“Why is that so hard for you to understand, comic nerd? Obviously I want to use the sword on the harpy!” Joaquin barely kept himself from throwing open the doors to the small chapel adjoining the school. He and Nico peeked inside, then scuttled towards the alcove in the back where the statue of Gabriel was, looking for all the world like an avenging angel, his hallowed face illuminated with chipped paint that had probably applied to the statue long after it was made. In his hand, a sword of black iron stabbed into the devil crouched below him. The devil screamed in silent agony. Nico had never paid the writhing form of the devil near as much attention as the handsome face of Gabriel, but now he noticed how much its red and brown form looked like the Minotaur in the book Maria kept stashed away until story nights.

“Well,” Nico muttered, looking at the fierce-looking sword in the statue. It wasn’t so much a sword as an extra-long knife. The more he looked at it, the less he liked Joaquin’s plan. “Are you going to grab it?”

Joaquin hesitated. “I… something doesn’t seem right.”

There was something off about it, something about the naked black blade in the hands of the angel felt wrong. This was a relic from the Vatican, they knew, but the sword looked the exact opposite of holy. The shadows around them twitched and quivered, like they were being drawn to the sword. What sculptor in their right mind would put such a horrifying thing in the hands of Gabriel?

“Yeah,” Nico agreed. “Something about it… it’s not even a proper sword! There’s no handle or anything.” The blade was naked, no hilt to save the wielders’ hands from the raw power of the metal. But he wanted to grab it anyways. It called to him. He tried to fight against it. Dark magic swords were the sort of bad news he didn’t need in his life right now. He wanted to be Captain America, not a supervillain.

“It makes me feel cold,” Joaquin said, taking a step back. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I remembered it being bigger.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth then the door burst open behind them and the harpy hobbled in, her bird feet clacking on the stone floors. The stench of death rolled off her, filling the church with her foulness. The musty smell of incense was slowly being overpowered by the rank smell of harpy.

Her beady eyes found them, locking first on Joaquin, then Nico, then the statue. It could have been a trick of the dim church light, but Nico swore she looked straight at the sword.

“Hello, little halfbloods,” she cooed. “Why don’t you come over here and make this quick?”

“How about you come over here, and we’ll make it quicker,” Joaquin taunted. Nico shot him a look that clearly asked why are you inviting her over here?

The harpy cackled. “I’m not stupid, son of Athena. Stygian iron isn’t something you play with, boys.”

They glanced at each other. Stygian iron?

“Only those of the Underworld can touch it,” her eyes bored into Nico. He shivered. “So unless one of you is a son of Hades, I wouldn’t get much closer if I were you.”

She smiled revealing sharp, jagged teeth beneath her blood red lips. Nico had seen that color on the models in Bianca’s magazines, but he had a feeling the harpy wasn’t wearing Max Factor.

Nico wished Bianca was here now. It wasn’t that she was fearless – Nico knew her better than that – it was that she handled the pressure of her fear much better than he did. When she was scared, she used it to fuel her actions. Nico’s fear usually fueled him to turn and run. But Joaquin wasn’t backing down, so he couldn’t either. Besides, they had backed themselves into a corner. The only way out was through a harpy.

“I’m getting impatient, boys. I have a quota to fill. Zeus doesn’t want a bunch of you running around and causing havoc in the New World.” She snapped her teeth together a few times, like a bird snapping its beak, but when she did it, it sounded less like clack clack and more like it’s time for lunch.

She took a few steps forward. Joaquin tensed. Nico could see in his eyes he was searching for a way out of this.

She took another cautious step, her eyes fixed on the sword. She really didn’t like that thing, which made Nico like it all the more.

“When she charges, dive right,” Joaquin hissed. Nico barely had time to understand what he said when the harpy lifted her wings and flew straight towards them, not really flying as much as gliding towards them. Joaquin dove left, ducking under a pew. Nico, however, had already made up his mind. Faster than he knew possible, he turned and ripped the sword from Gabriel’s hands. He felt all the warmth drain from his body. The blood coursing through his veins felt slower, colder, turning to ice.

The harpy barely had time to scream, her feet clacking on the stones as she tried to slow herself down. One of her claws raked across his chest as she tried to stop herself, to back away from the sword.  Too late, she crashed into Nico, the sword coming down on one of her wings. She screeched. Her cries of agony bounced off the walls of the church. And she was gone. It wasn’t like when Bianca killed the weird dog things last month. That had dissolved into dust. This was more like the sword absorbed the harpy – like it ate her. Nico staggered back, blood seeping over his uniform. Maria would not approve.

“What the hell man,” Joaquin was shaken, coming around the pew, his wide eyes fixed on Nico.

Nico had no response. He tried to take a step, but the world seemed disconnected. It spun one way and he spun another. The sword clattered from his hands as he pitched forward. Joaquin caught him before he smacked his head against the unforgiving floor of the chapel.

“Nico, Nico can you hear me?” He tried to nod, but just keeping his eyes open was a struggle. He had never felt this tired before. He was so tired he felt sick. And cold. It didn’t feel like May, it felt like the dead of January when fuel for the heaters ran out. It was like all the energy had drained out of him. Moving his eyelids up and down took so much effort, it gave him vertigo.

“Nico!” Joaquin’s voice sounded terrified.

“Nico!” Another voice screamed. He knew that voice, but it was so hard to place it right now. He forced his eyes open again, but they wouldn’t focus.

“Bianca! There was a harpy. He grabbed the sword from Gabriel and it – I don’t know, the harpy just disappeared or something, and now, and now,” Joaquin was crying. Nico thought it was weird, but then he realized, I’m dying.

Dying might be a nice change. No more Tagliocozza brothers. No one cursing Italians under their breath whenever he, Maria, and Bianca left East Harlem. No more of this war and no more rationing. No more going to bed hungry, dreaming of being full again. No more lying in confession. No more hiding from monsters and mobsters. No more afraid.

No, he thought. Don’t think that way. You don’t want to die. Because dying meant no more of Maria’s comforting hugs. No more running with Bianca through the streets. No more playing marbles with Joaquin during recess. And no more Captain America. He could never grow up and join the army like Steve Rodgers. He could never help people.

I will not die.

“Here, give him some of this.” This voice was completely unfamiliar.

Something warm was pressed into his mouth. It tasted like the grapes fresh from the vines of his grandfather’s vineyard back in Italy. He hadn’t thought about them in years, but all the comfort of warm summer days, lounging under the grapevines with Bianca came back to him then. He felt strength return to his limbs. His fingers and toes tingled as the feeling he never realized he had lost returned. The pain in his chest dulled, thankfully, but he could still feel the skin there knitting back together.  

“Not too much! Too much might start to kill him all over again!” The voice from earlier shouted, the accent sounded weird to him.

He opened his eyes. The light burned so he closed them again.

“Bianca?” He croaked.

“Nico! Nico are you alright? Can you hear me?”

He tried to nod, but it made the nausea come back so he gave up. “I hear you.” Was he speaking English or Italian? He needed to speak English for Joaquin. For the person with the weird accent. He tried to open his eyes again. And again. Until finally it didn’t feel like the light was trying to gauge the balls from their sockets.

Bianca was crouched next to him, holding onto something that looked like a mix between baklava and cake. Joaquin was still supporting his head. Little rivers ran down both their faces. He tried to sit up. Both of them moved to help him.

“Not too fast!” The strange voice from earlier commanded. Now that his senses were returning to him, he could process it more. The voice definitely belonged to a girl, probably closer to his age than Bianca’s. And definitely foreign. Not foreign like an Italian from Harlem, but foreign like the fresh off the boat folks fleeing Europe.

He looked and finally found her, standing behind Bianca so that Nico had to peer around his sister’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. She had dark hair in a thick braid down her back and a silver hairband that definitely looked like something girls at Bianca’s school were not allowed to wear, but she did have on a uniform. Her skin was tan. Maybe she was fleeing the campaign in North Africa or the Middle East.

“Who’s she?” he croaked. He no longer felt nauseous.

“This is Zoe Nightshade,” Bianca introduced him. “She’s a follower of Artemis, a Hunter, who transferred to St. Agatha’s last week.” She had never mentioned it before.

Nico tried to keep the hurt from his face, but he could tell Bianca already felt guilty. She hadn’t mentioned another halfblood other than Marcella at school. He had told her the same day he met Joaquin that someone like them had shown up.

“Nice to meet you,” Nico forced out. His throat ached. His mouth ached. Everything ached. But whatever the thing still clutched in Bianca’s hand was, it had helped immensely. His senses were all back. He was awake enough to process some of what had just happened. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Pleasure,” Zoe replied without a drop of sincerity. “We really should be getting back now, Bianca, now that thou know he’s going to be okay. I can’t imagine the matrons being happy to discover us here.”

Bianca hesitated. Her dark brown eyes met Nico’s. “Do you think you’ll be okay? I’ll come get you as soon as school is out.”

Nico nodded as Joaquin helped him to his feet. “I’ll be fine. How did you know to come, anyways?”

Bianca shrugged. “Sibling sense? How did you know when the dog-thing was attacking me?”

He shrugged back as Zoe answered, “Telkhine. It’s called a telkhine.”

Bianca brushed the comment off and asked Nico one more time, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He nodded and Zoe practically dragged her back towards St. Agatha.

As soon as they left, Joaquin spoke up, “I don’t like her.”

“Huh? Bianca?” Nico realized this was the first time the two of them had a chance to meet each other, and what an occasion.

He shook his head. “Zoe Nightshade. Something about her spells trouble.”

Nico looked towards the door his sister had just followed her out of. He still felt a little wobbly. Was his near-death encounter affecting his ability to sense regular danger?

He turned to Joaquin to reply, but the other boy was turned away, looking at the black sword still on the ground, half under one of the pews. Nico couldn’t be sure if the blade itself was writhing or the shadows around it.

“I think that sword tried to kill you, too,” Joaquin said after they had stared at it long enough. So maybe that ruled Hades of the list of possible fathers.

“But it didn’t,” he responded. It made him think of the superheroes in comic books. Weird swords found in a church were definitely up there on the list of things that turned one onto the path of heroism. Or the path of evil. “Should I keep it?”

“Are you crazy?” Joaquin snapped. “It was definitely sucking at you the same way it did the harpy! And even if it wasn’t obviously evil, isn’t stealing from a church a sin or something? Father Ricardo would kick your ass!”

Nico nodded. “We should at least put it back.” But when they turned towards the statue of Gabriel, he already held a sword, this one looking much more like it belonged in his holy hands.

“I think it’s a sign,” Nico confirmed.

“You’re crazy,” Joaquin muttered. “My best friend is crazy.”

Nico di Angelo was not like most boys in East Harlem for a number of reasons. Most boys didn’t get attacked by harpies on the regular. Most boys did not see the triumphant face of the angel Gabriel and feel their heart race. Most boys were not demigods who came back from the dead.

_

ORIGIN STORY. Naturally Nico is a Captain America nerd. He would be. Since MoM isn’t invented... yet ;) He also may have a crush on Steve Rodgers as well as the angel Gabriel. 

[jenna-harberts-blog]

In Depth Character Sheet

FULL NAME: Jenna Angelica Harberts MEANING: Jenna means “fair lady” Angelica means “angel” and Harberts was literally just me putting English sounds together NICKNAME: Jen MEANING: Shorter form of Jenna AGE: 15 BIRTHDAY: April 4th ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aries SPECIES: Witch GENDER: Transfemale ALLERGIES: None SEXUAL PREFERANCE: Heterosexual THEME SONG(S): Breakable - Ingrid Michealson APPEARANCE HAIR COLOR: Dyed Blonde HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Slightly below shoulder length EYES COLOR: Brown EYESIGHT: 20/20 HEIGHT: 5′ 10″ WEIGHT: 143 OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: Long skirts and shirts, cute jackets, nothing very revealing DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): none SELF CARE(MAKE UP): Wears makeup, as well as faux breasts FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: Stuck in her own head, polite SKIN COLOR: medium BODY TYPE/BUILD: Slim DEFAULT EXPRESSION: Blank face POSTURE: Slightly hunched over PIERCINGS: Ears DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: low, quiet RELATIONSHIPS MOM: HyeMi Kim HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Well, until her death DAD: Richard Harberts HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Good, he is very supportive of her SIBLINGS: None PAST LOVER(S): None CURRENT LOVER: None REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: She is queit and polite and will stay on the outskirts if possible ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: Good, she is perhaps a little too accomadating HOW SOCIABLE(LONER,ETC): Friendly to most, but sticks to her best friends FRIENDS: Daisy Dursley, Hayley Tremletts, Frazer Creevey PETS: None LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Judgemental -ists AFFINITY WITH…: Art FAVORITE PEOPLE: Strong, kind people LEAST FAVORITE PEOPLE: Those who deadname her PERSONALITY ..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: Polite, distant ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Free Spirit, Kind, Supportive, Loyal ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): Distant but polite, if stiff FAVORITE COLOR: White FAVORITE FOOD: Shepherd’s Pie FAVORITE ANIMAL: Deer FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Piano FAVORITE ELEMENT: Ice LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: Black LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Shortbread Cookies LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: Snakes LEAST FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Saxophone LEAST FAVORITE ELEMENT: Earth HOBBIES: Any kind of 2D Art USUAL MOOD: Calm and Polite DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: No/No/ No DARK VERSION OF SELF: Distrusting, Scared LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: Bright, Accepting HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Average CLASS IN AN RPG: Support BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: Yes (IN)DEPENDANT: Dependant SOFT SPOT/VULNERABILITY: Friends and Family OPINION ON SWEARING: No opinion DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: Daredevil MUSIC TYPE: Disney MOVIE TYPE: Animated BOOK TYPE: Fantasy with a happy ending GAME TYPE: Cards COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: 55-60* SLEEPING PATTERN: Sleeps at least 5 hours a night CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Moderate DESIRED PET: Owl HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Drawing, walks, spending time with friends BIGGEST SECRET: Still questions her own validity HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: Her father WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: Doe FEARS: Public Speaking  COMFORTS: Disney, cuddles with friends, Pretty clothes HOW DO THEY ACT WHEN THEY ARE…

SAD: Withdraws into herself HAPPY: Smiles and is more generous than usual ANGRY: Cold AFRAID: Withdraws to the presence of her friends LOVE SOMEONE: Will defend them to any critics, put them before herself, support them any way she can HATE SOMEONE: Tries to avoid them, stays with friends while in their vicinity WANT SOMETHING: Look at it, discuss it with others and debate if she really wants it or if it is a passing wish CONFUSED: Talk it out with others HOW DO THEY REACT TO…

DANGER: Clings onto the most familiar face, lets them take control of the situation SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: Confused PROPOSAL TO MARRY: Flustered and Confused DEATH OF LOVED ONE: Grieves, stress eats DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: Cries, asks for help from friends but not teachers INJURY: Fixes it, but will ultimately forget about it and possibly make it worse SOMETHING IRRESISTIBLY CUTE: Try to approach it LOSS OF HOURS OF WORK: Cry and take a nap KNOWLEDGE LANGUAGES: English, some household Korean SCHOOLING LEVEL: 5th year FAVORITE SUBJECT: Charms INTERESTED CAREERS: Zoologist HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: Not very IMPULSIVE/STRATEGY: Impulsive ROMANCE DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: No HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): Shyer than normal, but will blurt out random embarrassing things GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: Cautious GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: Go slow PROTECTIVE: Yes ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: ...Friends? (WTF is the difference someone explain this shit to me) WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY: Small ones, but often expensive TYPE OF KISSER: ?  DO THEY WANT KIDS: Undecided DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: Undecided MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: ? ARE THEY ROMANTIC: Yes? GET JEALOUS EASY: No WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: A walk through the forest, and a picnic OPINION ON SEX: She is not comfortable with it at this time, and does not see herself taking that step for many, many years 

[flashinglights-rp]

MALEA RHODES ➝ SECOND SIBLING

AS YOU RECALL, YOU KNOW I LOVE TO SHOW OFF

◈ FULL NAME: Malea Jaymes Rhodes. ◈ GENDER: Female. ◈ PRONOUNS: She/Her. ◈ AGE: 24. (October 28th). ◈ BIRTH ORDER: Second. Adopted. ◈ HOMETOWN: London, England. ◈ CURRENT LOCATION: Los Angeles, California. ◈ JOB ROLE: Singer, Talent Scout & Business Owner (Porn Sector). ◈ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual. ◈ ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic. ◈ FACECLAIM: Yvette Monreal.

BUT YOU NEVER THOUGHT THAT I WOULD TAKE IT THIS FAR

April Rhodes’ childhood was not an easy one. In fact, it was quite the opposite, raised by parents who found it easier to use their hands than their words, and when they did use their words, they were never kind ones, it was no surprise that April decided living on the street was a better option for herself as a teenager. It wasn’t long before she knew she needed a way to make money to get by, and unfortunately selling her own body was the way she found to do it. It was a short leap from there, to working in the porn industry, a profession which was safer than working the streets, and paid better, but not by much on either account. Though she never felt shame for the way she chose to support herself, she did wish she didn’t need to do it to get by. It was a blessing when a distant relative passed away, leaving April a small, modest inheritance, but enough for the woman to live on comfortably for quite some time, so long as she lived in her means, something she strongly intended to do.

Not too long after she got out, unforeseen circumstances lead to her adopting a baby girl, Kailee Nicole. April loved that baby with all of her heart, and vowed never to treat her the way her parents had treated her when she grew up. It was a bumpy road at first, April having no idea how to raise a baby, but it was a road they stumbled down together, and April loved every second of it, almost as much as she loved her baby. It was just over a year later that another blessing would find it’s way to April. Though April had never met Tiffany Jaymes, Tiffany had heard about April, through a friend named Crystal she had worked with. And when Tiffany found herself in quite a similar position, she asked the other woman to reach out to April for her. April agreed readily, to take the baby for Tiffany. And a few months later, when Kailee was barely over a year old, Malea Jaymes Rhodes came along. If April thought it was a rough road with one baby, she had no idea what was coming for with two, but she took it in stride, falling into her role as a mother, not so gracefully, but happily all the same.

Malea was a quiet baby, and easy one, who barely fussed. And as she grew, that soft and gentle demeanor only grew in the child. Her sister was more outgoing, more relatable when it came to the kids in school, but Malea was no less friendly. She was quiet, and shy, but kind-hearted and incredibly empathetic. Kailee was one of the only ones who could really coax her out of her shell at school, but at home she was just as free spirited as her sister and mother. The Rhodes house was always filled with laughter and music. Whether the music was flowing through speakers, or straight of out April’s mouth, the girls grew to love it. April’s voice could put the two into a trance, it was mesmerizing, watching the woman who they loved so unconditionally so happy and full of joy. And there was nothing a song couldn’t fix, whether it was a skinned knee, a vicious game of tug of war over a toy both girls wanted, or a monster under the bed. April always knew when to step in, and when to let the girls work it out amongst themselves, April was naturally a good mother.

As the girls grew a bit older, April began to work in a bar as a jazz singer, just a few nights a week, and only after the girls were asleep so they wouldn’t miss her. It was on one of these nights that fate seemed to intervene with the Rhodes girls again, their babysitter fell sick, and April had no choice to but pick them up and bring the two small girls to work with her. One thing lead to another, and the girls’ love for music overtook them both, drawing them both on stage with their mother to sing with her. Kailee, being the confident girl she was, lead the way, Malea following shortly after, only thrown off by the crowd momentarily before she followed with her. Malea had an instant love for the spotlight, which was surprising considering how shy she usually was. Maybe it was the bright lights blocking out almost everything from sight, or maybe it was just the fact that music was never something she had to question, but the stage never scared her after that first moment. And April could tell, she could tell her daughters were natural singers, and performers, and asked them if they’d like to take lessons. Both agreed happily, and began voice lessons, as well as some instruments.

While singing was something that Malea naturally took a liking to, instruments were harder. She had to try quite a few, including the saxophone, the violin, the flute, and the drums, before deciding after only one to two classes that they weren’t for her. She found the guitar first, and instantly found she liked it, and then came the piano, and not only did she instantly like it, but she felt a natural ease when she played. Her hands glided across the keys as if it were as easy as pulling on a pair of socks. The girl was barely old enough to tie her own shoes, but put her in front of a piano, and she could produce sounds. Later, in her teens, she found that not only could she play, but she had the ability to hear music, and know how to play it, and it wasn’t long after that that she also found a love for writing music. Though singing was still her biggest passion, her talent with the piano didn’t go unnoticed by her teacher, who urged her to enter music competitions, but Malea had never been the competitive type, and feared that going that route would take the joy out of it for her.

Though competitiveness was not in her nature, Kailee and Malea found themselves drawn to the TV every week when the show The X-Factor aired, cheering on their favorites, and singing along to every song they knew. It was almost unspoken between them, that they both had a desire to be on the show themselves, that when it was finally spoken off, they both agreed that they needed to try. After begging, and pleading, and lots of pouting, April agreed. She didn’t think that the girls would win, and didn’t know if it was the best ideas, but she decided they should have the experience of it, and that if nothing else, singing in front of a crowd that big would be something they two girls would never forget. So the next year, they waited in an impossibly long line, waiting for their turn to wow the judges. Kailee with her guitar, Malea with her keyboard, and both prepared with their favorite song, the two marched on the stage, and dominated the entire arena in front of them, earning them four yeses and a shot straight through the the next round.

April was thrilled with how well they did, and while it wasn’t the outcome she’d expected, she couldn’t deny that the stage was exactly where the two of them were meant to be. They competed together in the group section, at the young ages of only 12 and 13, the two girls were some of the youngest in the competition, and as they were under-aged, their mother got to be with them every step of the way. And it was a good thing, as that long away from each other probably would have made Malea want to back out of the whole thing entirely. Thank god she didn’t have to, because the girls flourished in the competition. With Simon Cowell as their mentor, and their mother by their side, or backstage waiting for them, the girls flew through the competition, eventually going on to win the entire competition.

Kalea rose quickly, their fame growing faster than anyone could have predicted. April did well at keeping them grounded, school still came first, and she never let them get overworked, but it was an instant whirlwind of recording music, concerts, signing autographs, and both girls absolutely loved it. Soon the entire UK knew who they were, and they couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. Luckily, this never killed their love for the music. The girls’ relationship with Simon didn’t end with the end of the season. In fact, after spending so much time mentoring them, he kept them under his wing, and after spending some time with April, slowly began to realize there was a spark between the two. While Malea had never even considered that their family was missing anything, it was an instant realization for her that Simon was exactly what she never knew they were missing. He was a perfect fit for them. Kailee and Malea never knew either of the fathers, but Simon stepped in and filled that role completely. It wasn’t long before the two were married, and their happy family was complete, at least for now.

The two had to work hard to get through school, always wishing they could be performing instead, but as soon as Malea graduated, the music became their full time job. They moved to LA, and that was when their career hit a whole new level. They were older now, their voices, and their content more mature, and they skyrocketed, becoming so well known that when her sister took a step into the business side, Malea couldn’t help but be drawn to follow. The girls wanted to know every aspect of the business that they possibly could, and Simon wanted that for them, too. Taking them under his wing again, he brought them into his business, and it wasn’t long before they became something close to Simon’s clones, doing exactly what he did, and having just as high standards of work.

Just before moving to LA, April found out she was pregnant. Maybe some adopted children would be afraid that their mother would love her biological children more than them, but that was a thought that never even crossed Malea’s mind. She knew that her and Kailee, and now Simon, were April’s whole world, and this baby would just add to that. Not long after, it was discovered that not only was April pregnant, but she was pregnant with twins. The four of them couldn’t have been happier, and anxiously awaited their birth. But they weren’t the only ones. The country had fallen in love with not only Malea and Kailee, but with Simon and April, with their relationship, and with their family in general. Even in the US, where Kalea wasn’t that popular yet, Simon was popular, and his wife, and singing daughters were adored from a afar. The two countries practically had a countdown going waiting for the arrival of April’s babies. And when the two boys arrived, again, they were the missing pieces of the family that none of them knew they were missing.

Nicholas Kyle, named after Kailee Nicole came first, followed just a few minutes later by James Mark, named after Malea. While still in the hospital room, April and Simon asked the girls if they’d like to be each be a godmother to their namesake. Of course, both girls eagerly agreed, and the boys became more than just their brothers. They weren’t April and Simon’s babies, they were the families babies, the girls thinking of them as theirs just as much as their parents.

April and Simon were the only parents Malea ever knew. While Kailee was able to meet her birth mother, Malea’s birthmother, Tiffany, had made April agree from the start that Malea and her wouldn’t meet. April had agreed, decided that it was Tiffany’s choice, and held true to the promise. When Malea was younger, it was hard for her to understand, but April had always been more than enough of a mother to her and had loved her unconditionally. As Malea got older, she began to understand more. Knowing what her mother and what Kailee’s “Aunt Crystal” had gone through, as well as the many of their friends they met, she didn’t fault Tiffany for not wanting to meet the baby she had to give up, and rather just focused on appreciating her for making the decision to give her to April. Crystal knew Tiffany somewhat, and told Malea a bit about her, but Malea was a happy girl, and she didn’t feel the need to question it further, rather just decided to be grateful for all that she had in life.

Kailee and Malea were both so grateful for the life their mother, their best friend, their biggest cheerleader, had given them, that now, as adults, with quite a bit of their own money, and their own popularity, they decided to do something to honor her. Kalea Productions was born, a female positive porn production company. While it may not have seemed like the things most girls would do to honor their mother, it was fitting for the Rhodes girls. April had never been ashamed of her work as a porn star, though she never wanted that life for her daughters, she felt that it was a valid choice for anyone who felt the need to choose that path, she only wished for safer conditions. Kalea Productions was just that. A place for women who chose porn as their industry of choice, a place where they could be safe from harm and dangerous conditions, where they were never compromised, with good pay, healthy benefits, clean and safe working conditions. The women are provided with regular medical testing, and beyond that, they were given something that their own mothers were never afforded. They provided maternity leave for any woman who became pregnant, whether on the job or not, and helped with any medical bills ,or decisions that needed to be made. They even provided off site daycare, free of charge. Kailee and Malea wanted to take their mother’s dream of offering a safe, and welcoming environment, along with all of the knowledge they gained from their mother and her friends, to create a successful and ground-breaking business. The business is still new, and while no one knows what the future holds, they have made an excellent start at doing exactly what they’ve set out to do.

WHAT DO YOU KNOW? FLASHING LIGHTS, LIGHTS

Malea likes to change her style quite often. Cute dresses, and kitten heels to today, with combat boots and a leather jacket tomorrow. She dresses to suit her mood, or just finds fun pieces and works an outfit around them. Her hair is no different. She changes the color often, sometimes letting it be it’s natural deep brown, but tomorrow she might dye it bright read, or maybe give herself purple highlights. She’s had her hair every color of the rainbow, and sometimes all at once. She’ll wear it down, or up, or sometimes in braids on one side, and may just show up to work with one side shaved off. She loves to experiment with her clothes, and her hair. She has a tattoo on her thigh that says “Curiosity often leads to trouble” from Alice in Wonderland, has and has multiple ear piercings.