Sometimes you just gotta redesign old ocs
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Sometimes you just gotta redesign old ocs
In the whispering canopy of an ancient, emerald forest, Tommy Crawford’s “Mountain Song” blooms—a wildflower symphony rooted in earthy folk traditions yet dazzling with iridescent modernity. Here is music spun from the sunlit threads of nature herself, each chord a resplendent tapestry woven by trembling fingers and the fleeting kisses of chickadees’ wings captured songfully amidst Vermont’s velvet green. Crawford treads a sacred path; where his voice rises—a woody timbre seasoned by miles—it carves soulful echoes into stone hearts. The strings quiver as if plucked by twilight itself, while guest minstrels Breitbach and Kogan cradle melodies till they weep golden […]
In the Heart of Nature: Tommy Crawford's "Mountain Song" Soars In the whispering canopy of an ancient, emerald forest, Tommy Crawford’s “Mountain Song” blooms—a wildflower symphony rooted in earthy folk traditions yet dazzling with iridescent modernity. Here is music spun from the sunlit threads of nature herself, each chord a resplendent tapestry woven by trembling fingers and the fleeting kisses of chickadees' wings captured songfully amidst Vermont's velvet green. https://open.spotify.com/album/6mkMklxANaIBq4dec41n1f?si=kItN1Vs7SiSXh-V0bb2BJg Crawford treads a sacred path; where his voice rises—a woody timbre seasoned by miles—it carves soulful echoes into stone hearts. The strings quiver as if plucked by twilight itself, while guest minstrels Breitbach and Kogan cradle melodies till they weep golden droplets of familial love and communal embrace. [caption id="attachment_55185" align="alignnone" width="2000"] In the Heart of Nature: Tommy Crawford's "Mountain Song" Soars[/caption] But to paint this as mere pastoral idyll would be to deny its serrated edge: "Mountain Song" does not merely ascend but claws skyward through tangled thicket and shadow—bearing raw scars scribed with societal wanderlust wrapped tightly in a lullaby's promise—with every step towards that cloudy summit steeped intrepidly in fatherhood’s fragile potency. Mixed exquisitely within The Station Studio's hallowed walls by Appleton's deft alchemy—the evergreen breaths entwine themselves around themes monumental yet whispered like confessions between old friends beneath stars. As "Good Night New York" looms on Crawford’s horizon, let us revel momentarily within this audial glen—an intimate ballad encircled grandiosely—where each note hums with life palpable enough to stir hibernating dreams beneath winter soil. https://youtu.be/LWWjmu7vHqE “Mountain Song,” ephemeral as dandelion wishes upon which it rides triumphantly into our auditory firmament then dissipates like mist—it renders unto those willing their very essence back transformed: enkindled spirits swathed in verdant hopefulness—forever bound to partake in this eternal dance led ably by maestro Crawford at Mother Nature’s rustic gala. Follow Tommy Crawford on Website and Instagram.
cresting the causeway tamalpais in the mist radio plays Donovan first there is a mountain then there is no mountain then there is. . #mountainsong #mountainjam #firstthereisamountain #mttam #mttamalpais #highway37 https://www.instagram.com/p/Cb25Ej0p1mO/?utm_medium=tumblr
Mountain Song is the second single from upcoming album The Roses, due out July 23, 2021. Courtesy photo, used with permission. Ava Earl, an
#janesaddiction #mountainsong #nothingsshocking https://www.instagram.com/p/CHP5DKpJQdtf2q86nV1iauRsOm-iJKsgi-BrjY0/?igshid=8zag4cr0yg5e
#mountainsong (presso Serravalle di Chienti) https://www.instagram.com/p/CD2-Ou_CMlI/?igshid=1f7w6nlmtz82x
Mountain Song memiliki cerita yang menarik. Tak heran ia mendapatkan penghargaan skenario terbaik. Tapi, apakah filmnya semenarik skenarionya? Baca selengkapnya di akuaktor ya! Link ada di bio! . . #akuaktor #mountainsong #flashreview https://www.instagram.com/p/B5Pi4MqAPCn/?igshid=nsxpqt31oj0q
a little peek at a wip ↓
The thunder rolls over the hills, each rumble a roar in his chest. Out the thick glass windows, the world is dark, lit only by the sky’s strikes as lightning hits. Each strike sends a spark down the prince’s spine. He winces as the trees crackle, the enchanted wood speared by that lively light. It spreads between the trees like faerie light, illuminating even the darkest parts of the forest.
A hand at his shoulder jolts the prince back into the room. The prince is shaking, his hands folding the brocade of his sash over and over as he casts his eyes out on the storm, his back turned to the party raging behind him.
A shake of the head, and the hand falls away. Some lord or lady will have asked for a dance; but with how his heart is hammering against his ribcage, he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand. The ballroom spins. The prince clenches his hands into his pockets, hiding the way they ball about the soft fabric.
All about him, there are dancers bringing in the new autumnal year. It is a celebration of the end of a scorching summer; the beginning of prosperity. Dancers don oranges and yellows, reds and browns, as they twirl their partners and cry out with the singers. Men bang drums and women scream, embracing the carnality of what will be coming this night.
There will be a sacrifice, followed by demonstrations honouring Oddny, goddess of blood and her lover Rjollo, god of bone. Disgust makes goosebumps prickle at his arms; he forces his spine straight as he stares out over the crowds. He dares a glance to the raised dais where his father sits, golden crown at his head and a swathe of fur about his shoulders. Dressed in all black, he is a fearsome sight; the kohl lining his eyes shines darker than his many tattoos. In the throne beside him rests a collection of autumn-red leaves, golden bones, and the antlers of a stag. They were once parts of the queen’s crown. They’re all that’s left of her.