#Ghosts of My life

[venenoparatres]

FANTASMAS EN LA DISCOTHEQUE, PT. 1

En el disco “Dime precioso” de Álex Anwandter una pista de baile se abre, una bola de disco baja del techo, el estéreo suena a todo dar, pero algo falla, una cinta suena desperfecta, la conexión eléctrica falla. La música que ambienta la fiesta ochentera tiene la cinta gastada de tanto tocar el cassette. Es una fiesta espectral, no pasada, no futura, tan presente como el instante que existe y se va inmediatamente, como el segundo que acaba de pasar. La voz que abre “Perdido” es la de un fantasma que tiñe de negro las luces de neón de la disco, y su letra, amenaza con caer en la oscuridad para siempre, arruinando la fiesta para siempre. La voz oscurecida y la distorsión del sonido perturban ese sonido ochentero pulcro que ha dominado las listas de éxito anglo contemporáneas.

En “París, tal vez”, Álex busca a un amante que se fue, lo evoca, no tiene idea de su paradero, como el momento parece perdido en el tiempo. Un fantasma de lujuria que traspasa y se confunde con el instrumental, inubicable, inrastreable. Existe algo siniestro en esta recapitulación del pasado, en esas postales retro que parecen darles la razón a los fetichistas de la nostalgia; pero ¿cómo puede alguien que no vivió la época, advertir sobre los peligros de remontarse ciegamente a los momentos muertos? Hay un efecto específico de ralentización al final de “Tu nueva obsesión” y al principio de “QTDE” que captura esta idea perfectamente: el momento se siente glitcheado, perturbado, y, sin embargo, bailamos y cantamos.

Su disco anterior “El diablo en el cuerpo” conjura una fantasía similar, un synthpop ochentero con más refinaciones técnicas que su sucesor, un sentido del ritmo más fijo y controlado. Pero los espectros ya están presentes: en “Pueblo fantasma” Álex evoca el vacío emocional del rechazo por el círculo familiar, un desierto antes florido por amor. Pero el pueblo fantasma es también el tiempo en que ocurrió esta revolución musical y cultural, la pista de baile a la que entramos es un eco, una repetición de las que cuatro décadas atrás poblaban las ciudades. El futuro de una vida juntos, tan imaginable como invisible, no-presente, impenetrable, atrapado entre la desesperanza y el optimismo, y en un punto medio, el letargo, la depresión.

Temáticamente, Álex también abandona las postales brillantes ochenteras a su propia manera; en “No me molesta”, el brillo del éxito o la cúspide es rechazado, lo importante es la diversión y lo auténtico. El deseo por lo humano es el foco, “Ave del campo” y “Gaucho”, emociones exaltadas y genuina pasión. Pero también los fantasmas del pasado tienen sentimientos humanos, susurran o gritan por comprensión, amor, entendimiento. Las fotos en que están atrapados pueden ser contestadas desde el futuro, evocar imágenes y transportarse a los sonidos de entonces para completar el ritual, romper la maldición y arreglar los errores de la línea temporal.

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Helevorn - Espectres (Meuse Music Records)

Balearic atmospheric doom metal, Helevorn, will release their 5th full length album titled Espectres on the 13th of September via Meuse Music Records. It’s been 5 years five years since Helevorn release their acclaimed album, Aamamata. An album that received rave reviews from fans and critics alike for it’s heavily atmospheric gloom and it’s elegant and classy delivery. Helevorn originally formed…

[hansoeii]

Ghosts! 👻

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.

We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.

All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.

[happyheidi]

don’t invite me unless these are the plans

[aftg4rd]

🧼: “D’ya think I cuid take my gear off first, Si?”

💀: “Negative.”

[potato-lord-but-not]

some incredibly stupid holy ghosts memes in honor of this comment from my last holy ghosts art. we got him boys

[gothghostiie]

something babysitter!reader waiting for price to drive them home while he's on video call with one of his friends, the little one in his lap, tapping around on the screen; until it somehow does something to make the screen go weird. he chuckles and shows you, inevitably holding the camera right onto you for a moment and showing you before turning it back on him. all you hear from the phone now is a curious hum. "who's the lil' tulip on the couch?"

[bricreative]

I’m the ghost in the back of your head

(WIP)

[vampyfrnk]

[yooo-lets-go]

Happy Valentine’s Day ♥️

To everybody except Hesh, I guess

[ink-n-shadow]

i’m back on my owner!ghost bullshit!!

𝜗𝜚 cw: slight smut (minors—DNI), pet play, owner!ghost, aftercare, collar/collaring, subspace, unedited

but instead of rough and tough owner!ghost, it’s after a particularly draining scene for you, and owner!ghost is all soft touches and gentle hands. he’s letting your tear-stained and red cheek rest against his sweat-slick thigh as his fingers begin gently undoing the tethers of your metal play collar.

“shh, shh—s’alright, pup. gonna put the soft one back on,” ghost murmurs soothingly when you start squirming in his hold, a slurred whine leaving your mouth as you try and prevent him from taking the play collar off. because in your still delirious and staticky brain, you see it as a sign of him untethering you from him forever.

his calloused fingertips are soothing the reddened skin beneath the metal before tying the soft silk collar you always wear back around your throat, making sure the small metal tag simply etched with a cursive ‘g’ isn’t resting on your irritated skin.

owner!ghost after a scene is lathering your sore body in shea butter, letting you remain a boneless, floaty mess in the ruined sheets as he tries to ease the aches before you come back down to earth.

it isn’t until your entire body is smooth as silk and the stars behind your eyelashes have dimmed to mere glimmers that he’s pulling you to sit up in his lap, head slumped into the curve of his muscled chest and his fingers carding through your tangled hair.

“where’s my baby, hm?” he hums affectionately under his breath as his crooked nose prods against your sticky temple, scarred lips trailing feathery kisses along your hairline amidst your slow decent from your submissive headspace. when he notices you peeking up at him from beneath your lashes still frosted with unshed tears (from the umpteenth orgasm he’d given you for the night), his lips curve into his typical crooked grin.

“there you are—there’s my good pup.”

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[reds-skull]

My mom named one of the street cats she feeds Tommy, so I thought to myself, "what if..."

[fauvester]

something something seeing things through different eyes

[leoverdoze]

hi ghesties i offer sister imperator