#but its still like my brother leaf me alone i have too many emails to answer for this

[squeakadeeks]

Hope these words find you well, your cool, your arts cool, your creations cool. Hope you get a big break coming, may your financial needs perish and your dreams be on the rise, hope you feel as cool as you are.

ty!! (๑•̀-•́)و ngl this week has already been hella stressful. i no longer seek the embrace of fame or peer accolades. i hope my big break is i find a perfectly pristine parcel of quaker oats packets out in the wild

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Eleven

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I managed to finish up this latest chapter of my @cssns​ story before the insanity of the holiday starts and it picks up right where the last chapter left off with Emma and David heading out to search for the missing Killian Jones. My original plan had this as part of Chapter 10, but I decided to expand it and make it a stand-alone chapter. Emma's anxious to locate Killian but there’s going to be a surprising clue along the way that may provide a link to the past.

Many thanks again to @cocohook38​ for the amazing artwork above and to @lassluna​ for all of her beta reading assistance along the way

Read from the beginning on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten      Also on  AO3 and FF.net

In her short residence here in Storybrooke, Emma had only been this far down Highway 3 once - when she had been in pursuit of an intoxicated driver who struck a pedestrian in front of the church. She knew it was a narrow, two-lane road that meandered through the farmland on the outskirts of town before asphalt transitioned to gravel approximately three miles beyond Anton's farm. She was also well aware of the rumor that a fae community existed out here amongst the trees, but Emma was convinced that story was pure fiction. Even in this magical town, sometimes it as hard to draw a line between reality and fantasy.

Halfway into their drive out to the rendezvous point, Emma's phone rang with the return call from Belle. David asked if Emma would utilize the speakerphone so that he could hear the librarian's response as well.

"Good morning, Belle," Emma answered, immediately pressing the speaker button. "Thank you so much for returning my call so quickly."

"Of course, Emma. I would have called sooner but it took me a bit to find all of the information that you asked for," Belle replied.

"No problem," David assured her. "You're right on time. We're just about to meet with the search party, but since we're going to run out of cell service soon, what were you able to find?"

"Well, there are three registered properties with structures listed in the town records. There are a couple of other parcels of land with registered owners, but since they didn't have any dwellings or other structures registered, I focused on the ones that did," Belle explained over the growing static. "I emailed you and Emma the list with what details I could locate."

"Perfect. Any idea what sort of structures we're talking about?" David asked.

"They're listed as dwellings so my guess would be cabins or small houses. All were listed as being less than 1000 square feet," Belle told him.

"That's a huge help, Belle. I'll have Emma take a look at the email since I'm driving."

"Please let me know if you need anything else. Oh, and Emma - I'm still researching what you asked about your mother. I'll let you know if I can find that answer anywhere," Belle promised.

"Thanks for everything, Belle," Emma replied as she disconnected the call, her service signal down to a single bar.

"See if you can get that email opened up before the signal disappears," David instructed, as if Emma hadn't already thought of that.

"Already on it," Emma stated as she pulled up her work email folder and found the message from with its attachment. Her phone display still showed that single bar as she managed to download the file before service vanished. "Got it!"

She waited until David eased the Sheriff cruiser to the side of the gravel road in front of the Gardner's farmhouse since the tiny screen was too difficult to read while bouncing around on the crumbling road surface. When she could finally take a look at it, she hesitated for a minute, instead surveying the field and the people gathered in it. David was already scrambling out of the car to coordinate with the search party and she recognized most of the faces. Regina's boyfriend, Robin and his best friend, John Sherwood were here and she also spotted Leroy and a couple of the other miners. Graham pulled up and parked behind the cruiser in his 4x4 that would aid them with off-road capabilities.

"What did Belle's email reveal?" David asked her as he poked his head back into the car wondering why his sister was still sitting in the passenger seat.

"I'll know in a second," she replied. "It was kinda hard to hold onto my phone, let alone read the screen, when you were bouncing us all over the place. Did you try to hit every pothole on the highway?"

"Yeah, it was intentional," David huffed. "Seriously though, before we set off out there," he pointed his index finger in the direction of the treeline, "I want to know what sort of buildings we could encounter and where they are in relation to our search area."

"Just as Belle said, there are three dwellings listed. No surprise that one of them is John Sherwood's cabin. The second is a dwelling of unknown dimensions listed as under construction. Sounds like a potentially good place to hide somebody you don't want found…" But just as Emma made that comment, her gaze fell onto the third property listing, a moderately sized dwelling of approximately 900 square feet, but it wasn't the physical description or the location that drew her attention, it was the name of the registered owner.

Ozmund Welch.

She tried to shake off the coincidence, but she couldn't. Was there a correlation between this property's owner, Ozmund Welch, and her mother's mysterious suitor, Ozzie? Ava had described Ozzie as having vanished in a puff of smoke the moment she'd kissed him, but had he actually been real? Real enough to have built a cabin in the dense woods on the outskirts of Storybrooke or was the name similarity merely chance?

"Something wrong, sis?" David's question brought her back to the present. "You planning to stay in the car or are you going to get out of there and tell me about that third property?"

"I'm coming… Just had a little bit of weird deja vu."

"About searching the woods for your would-be pirate boyfriend?"

"Really, David?" Emma wasn't pleased with her brother referring to Killian as a pirate yet again. "Once and for all, he's not a pirate and no - that isn't what triggered it. This name… The third property owner listed is what caught my eye and gave me a weird feeling - someone named Ozmund Welch."

"Okay… what's so strange about that?"

"When I was leafing through mom's journal, she referred to the other man she was dating as Ozzie. He was the one she ended up choosing and caused her to lose the challenge, and of course, her powers. Ozmund. Ozzie. They sound a lot alike and it's a weird coincidence…"

"And you think there might be some correlation?"

"I don't really know," she sighed, knowing the probability was slim considering the rest of the information Belle had provided. "There's only one big problem with it - according to Belle, the structure was built and registered in the 1920s."

"I don't think your mother was really in to older men…"

"No. Certainly not based on the description she gave in her journal entries."

"Father and son maybe?" David suggested as Emma clambered out of the cruiser.

"I guess that's possible. Or it's possible that it really is just a coincidence." She tucked her phone away into her jacket pocket as she pushed the car door closed. "It's just weird…"

"Then why don't you and I take that particular property? If you've got any sort of suspicion about that property, we'll go with it."

"Okay. According to the property listing, it's located about a quarter of a mile from John's cabin. I copied all of the coordinates into my phone."

"Alright then. Let me go hand out assignments and get this search and rescue underway. That's in one of the more remote sectors so how about you go commandeer a couple of those ATVs?"

**********

Emma had never really considered herself to be the outdoorsy type so this trek through the forests of Eastern Maine riding an all-terrain vehicle was quite out of her element. By the time they reached the edge of the Welch property, they could both see the single-story wooden frame house that, at first glance, appeared well-kept, but vacant. As they got closer to the house, they began to see signs of recent occupation. Weeds had been cleared from the dirt road to the entrance as well as from a path to a small shed beyond the house.

With a reminder from David that they couldn't enter the property without permission from the resident or a search warrant, they parked the ATVs and started surveying the perimeter. Little seemed to have changed about the premises since it had been built nearly a century ago. They saw a neat stack of firewood next to the shed but no visible power lines connected to the building. Whoever resided out here definitely enjoyed living off the grid. The windows of the cozy house were covered with decades worth of grime, making it difficult to peer into the interior. If someone was living here, cleaning their windows to allow sunlight inside wasn't a priority which led credence to the probability that it was currently uninhabited.

"Looks vacant," David said as the siblings regrouped near the front door. "But it's almost impossible to see inside."

"Something isn't right," Emma insisted. "It may look vacant, but that wood pile over there isn't overgrown with weeds. There isn't any smoke rising out of that chimney right now, but my gut says there will be signs of a recent fire."

"Kinda hard to determine that from out here," David reminded her. "And one of the neighbors could be using the wood."

"Are you serious, David? Do you really think that someone out here would want to traipse through the woods to stack wood at an abandoned house? That makes no sense whatsoever."

"Just offering up possibilities."

"Well, it's pretty obvious that the bigger possibility is that someone has been secretly living here. It's rustic, but that doesn't mean it isn't livable. I don't know if Ozmund Welch is still living out here in the boondocks, but I'm quite sure someone is."

"Don't tell me - your gut is now telling you that this would be a good place to hide someone?"

"What? You don't think so? Come on, Dave - it's in the middle of nowhere and looks abandoned… Where would you hide a person you don't want found?"

"Em - you know the rules…"

"And this is a magical town where most rules don't even apply! David, my intuition is telling me that there's more to this place than meets the eye."

"You can feel your Captain boyfriend nearby?"

"I wish my instincts were that specific," she scowled at him, "almost as much as I wished that the locator spell came with GPS coordinates. I just know that there's something very wrong here…"

David pondered her plea for a moment. As Sheriff, he was tasked with upholding the law, not breaking it, but at the same time, if Captain Jones was here, being held against his will, rescuing the missing man should take priority. It was just that it all rested on his sister's gut feelings, not actual evidence…

"Okay, okay," he relented. "If you think this place is suspicious, let's go find out. Can you get that door open or were you planning to break it down?"

"Very funny," she scoffed as she withdrew her wand from inside her jacket. "Good thing I brought this along. Pretty sure a little magic can open that lock…" With a flick of her wrist and a swish of her wand, she recited the Latin phrase to open the door. "Recludo!"

David led the way once the door was unlocked, inching it open cautiously as he scanned the interior with his flashlight held in his left hand and his weapon clutched in his right. Emma followed at his heels, sweeping the beam of her flashlight around what looked to be a combination living room, kitchen and dining room. The room was sparsely furnished. A faded, but garishly upholstered sofa occupied a space facing the fireplace and a matching chair with worn wooden arms sat beside it. On the opposite wall, there was a makeshift kitchen featuring a sink with an ancient water pump, an old fashioned wood-fired stove and a two door cabinet hanging over the sink. At the other end of the building from where they stood, there was a wooden table with two flanking chairs and a narrow hallway leading to two doorways.

Emma took a few steps towards the fireplace while David immediately headed to the first of the two doors in the rear of the house. Her eyes were drawn to the mantle where a set of random books sat atop it, flanked by two heavy stone bookends. She recognized a few of the titles as books she'd been forced to read in school but there were others written in languages she didn't recognize. She also instantly noticed rectangular voids amongst the dust and cobwebs as though something had been removed recently.

She held no doubt that someone had been here.

David pushed open the first of the doors off of the rear hallway revealing a small, unoccupied bedroom containing only a spartan double bed and a plain, five drawer pine chest of drawers. He discovered the second door led to a primitive bathroom with a pedestal sink and an old claw foot bath tub. There was no toilet visible so the well-maintained path behind the house meant that the shed was likely an outhouse. In neither room did he find evidence of anyone being held unwillingly. Maybe Emma's instinct had been wrong…

"There's no one here," David announced as he strolled back into the living room area.

"Someone's been here," Emma assured him, pointing to the mantle. "Stuff has been recently taken off of that mantle. There are several areas with no dust."

"So? Someone might still be using the cabin, but Emma, there isn't anyone here right now, willing or unwilling."

"We're missing something," she insisted, combing her fingers through her hair in frustration. "We have to be…"

"It's a pretty small place, Em," David reminded her as he crossed through the center of the room toward his sister. "What do you think we might possibly be missing?" Emma shrugged as she turned to face the front door, ready to concede defeat - until David stepped onto the worn, heavy wool rug in the middle of the floor. He took two strides onto the rug when Emma's alert ears picked up a distinct change in the sound his footsteps were making.

"David - do that again," she ordered as she spun to face him.

"Huh? Do what again?"

"Take a step backwards, then forward again," she instructed her bewildered brother.

"Why?"

"Just humor me," she said as David rolled his eyes skeptically. He shifted his weight back one step and then another towards Emma, this time noticing the change in tone.

"There's something hollow here," he announced, tapping his foot a few times on the spot to confirm what they'd both heard.

"That's what I thought," Emma smiled as she hurried over to David. He kicked the well-trodden rug away to reveal a recessed trap door concealed beneath. "Well, well… what do we have here?"

"A trap door," David stated the obvious. "Maybe there's a basement or an old root cellar underneath?"

"What a great place to hide someone," Emma said, repeating her earlier words. David ignored her as he stooped to grasp the reinforced edge of the plank trap door. Emma kept her weapon trained into the void below as he raised the panel but there was nothing visible in the dark space except a rough-hewn wooden staircase leading deeper into the recess. Emma directed her light into the inky blackness of the stairwell, seeing that there was a narrow panel door at the bottom which was secured with a rusty padlock. "I see a doorway down there with a lock on it."

"I'm guessing you can open that one too?"

"Piece of cake," she grinned hopefully as they descended the steps. Reaching the bottom, Emma tucked her weapon into her hip holster, trading it for her wand while David maintained a tight grip on both flashlight and weapon. Her magic made quick work of the padlock and as David kept the flashlight beam trained on the door, she eased it open. A tiny room bathed in darkness lay beyond the wooden door and Emma crinkled her nose in disgust as the wafting odors of damp cement and moldy earth assaulted her senses. But she was also smelling faint traces of something else in the mix - the coppery scent of blood and the sweetness of the rum she'd partaken of last night. "Killian?" She called out to him. "Killian? Are you here?"

She heard no response as she retrieved her own flashlight, switching it on to find the limp figure curled up on the dingy concrete floor in the center of the room.

"Killian!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees on the dusty floor beside her unconscious friend, placing the flashlight on the floor next to her knees. He was lying on his right side and even in the dim light, she noticed something shiny was protruding from his left shoulder. She wasn't entirely sure, but it appeared to be his hook.

"Is that Captain Jones?" David queried, keeping a watchful eye on the trapdoor above as Emma checked on the person locked in the dark cellar.

"Yes and I think he's hurt. It's too damned dark in here, though." She needed more light and she remembered one of the first spells Zelena had taught her. Grabbing her wand, she held it above her head and recited "Inlumino!" Instantly, a series of twinkling, floating orbs began to swirl overhead, illuminating the dank room so that she could positively identify Killian and take a preliminary assessment of his injuries.

"It's him!" she shouted to David.

"What's that sticking out of his shoulder?" David wondered, staring quizzically at the glint of shiny metal. "It looks like some kind of hook…"

"It is a hook," she stated. "Killian sometimes wears it as a prosthetic and somebody plunged it pretty deep into his shoulder." David wanted to make a comment so badly about a ship captain wearing a hook for a hand, but he held his tongue as he recognized the concern evident on his sister's face. She had carefully rolled Captain Jones into his back and was pressing her index and middle fingers against his neck. "He's unconscious. He's got a pulse, but it's weak and a little slow. His skin is pretty cool to the touch so I'm pretty sure he's been in this cold basement for hours."

"Is he breathing?"

Not sensing any rise or fall of Killian's chest, Emma leaned in closer to his face, hoping she would feel the warmth of his breath exhaled against her cheek. As she lowered her face above Killian's slightly agape mouth, for a split second, her lips brushed his and she felt a little spark. It wasn't unlike the static shock you'd get when touching a metal surface after running across a carpeted floor in your socks but in the heat of the moment, it never dawned on her that she shouldn't be experiencing any static electricity shocks down here. She mentally dismissed any thoughts of the shock as she felt a soft puff of air against her skin.

"He's breathing, but just barely," she informed David who was immediately on the radio calling for a remote rescue unit. There was no way the two of them were going to be able to maneuver an unconscious man out of that root cellar and back to the road without assistance from the other teams. "Hang in there, Killian. Help's on the way," she assured her friend as she gently caressed his stubbled cheek

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Naruto Shippuden S21

What a tender intro omg also why is this filler so well animated

The introduction of modern technology will never not be funny to me. Kakashi on a laptop. Gaara sending emails. What has the ninja world come to 

I know it’s just superfluous background motion but that angry little cat design was amazing. Takes me tf out 

Hello again New English Iruka Voice time to feel slightly uncomfortable 

Doesn’t Inuyasha have a monopoly on this baby with a red ball imagery

Why! Is! No one! Making sure! Naruto is fed! He’s a baby!!!!!!

Naruto and Sasuke were such adorable children my heart

SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN THE FAMILY WHERE ONE OF THE CHILDREN IS JUST A FROG? WHO IS DOING THESE BACKGROUND ANIMATIONS?????

In case you thought I wasn’t being literal:

[Accompanying dialogue to this image: “Did you hear the rumours that Lord Fourth died because of him?” WHO IS THIS FROG CHILD WITH A VENDETTA AGAINST MINATO]

This ninja cowboy music seems slightly misplaced but okay

Hiruzen. U r the literal ninja president. Naruto is foraging in the forest for food bc no one is taking care of him! How r u like ‘Hahah I’m hungry too :D’ 

“The things that we inconsequential humans worry about are often very petty indeed” “You’re right” It’s Philosophy Hours ft. Pre-Schoolers 

“Are you sure these mushrooms are safe to eat? “Won’t know ‘til we eat ‘em” HIRUZEN PICK UP THE PHONE 

SCREAMS FIVE YEAR OLD NARUTO JUST JUMPED OFF THE HOKAGE MONUMENT AHHHHHH

I miss Neji :((((((((((((((((

“Please make sure that you look after Neji” show us Neji’s mum you cowards!!!

“You have to be more positive, and confident!” Nejiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii my boy

“I wish that I could switch places with you, big brother” There’s a lot to unpack here and I’m wildly concerned about all of it. This episode ought to be titled Konoha Desperately Requires Child Welfare Programs

Making an mini-episode which largely depicts Neji’s tragic backstory and centring its ending on Hinata seems like an odd angle to take

 “I’m alone. I don’t have anyone, but I never cry” NARUTOOOOO

KJHFKJHG THIS NINJA BASEBALL OUTRO I LOVE IT 

SASUKE USING HIS SHARINGAN TO CHEAT AT BASEBALL I WHEEZE

Also not that I don’t like Genma but why is he a central figure in this ending. Has he had more than a single conversation with Naruto in his life

Lmao @ Sasuke and Itachi’s child versions going back to having their adult voices. Pick a lane SP!!!

“Things in season are always cheap and tasty” “Oh, is that so, Sasuke? Hahaha” Sasuke learning about the ninja economy

“We’re going to visit your mother’s family” Two questions: 1) Aren’t your families the same family (eep) and 2) Don’t they all live in the same part of the village

90% of this dialogue is recycled from prior episodes except delivered more slowly and it’s a little confusing 

Itachi sure knows a lot about cooking for an eleven-year-old 

Sasuke being a clumsy child is such a cute character detail ahhhh I love him so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“[Confused laughter] You want to be like me?” What a Mood Itachi

Sakura’s hideout in the woods is so sweet yes 2 semi-normal childhoods

Poor little Sakura already concerned about her appearance they never let girls live do they

“You’re really cute Sakura, don’t hide it” Ino and Sakura are the most adorable children in the WORLD I love their relationship 4ever

“If she’s cute like you say, then I would love to meet her” who will stop all men

“But Ino, aren’t you good friends with Sakura?” “No, not really” Okay not to project but. I have a lot of thoughts on this narrative 

GASP Inner Sakura’s first appearance!!

Tiny Team 7 is all I need in the world honestly I would watch a whole show that was just those three growing up

I have only just now noticed Suigetsu as third baseman. This ninja baseball game and season in general raise so many questions

Noooo Gaara don’t cry you are gonna be so loved in the future

Rasa, can I just say, from the bottom of my heart, I’m going to yeet you into the sun

“When I look up at the sky, the pain inside my heart feels a little bit better” He’s like 4!!!!!!! >:(

“Instead of a mother, you get to have me, Lord Gaara” Yashamaru: Self-Diagnosed Mumncle 

Ngl baby Gaara’s recollection of Karura is nothing like she looked like

I really don’t care for this new Iruka voice I just keep listening to him like ‘that’s not the sound of Naruto’s dad!!’

I will admit him spooking the sleeping children was cute I don’t know why I always find that so funny kjhgkjhg

“Let me buy into this fight” who taught seven-year-old Naruto to gamble

Christ alive the implication that Naruto has been doing the sexy jutsu since he was seven who will put this boy in ninja therapy

If Orochimaru had just continued to be Jiraiya’s long-suffering friend he might be half-endearing but alas he is fecal matter personified 

“Come on out, I made plenty, so you might as well stay and eat” Hjgjfjgfgffg I’m not sure what’s funnier about this scene the implication that Obito and Rin both independently followed Kakashi home without noticing each other, or that Kakashi did notice and rather than question this turn of events was just like “Guess I should make more fish���

“When you’re older, do you think you’ll become a chef” I would pay to see the AU where Kakashi becomes a professional chef why couldn’t that have been his Road to Ninja persona 

Ngl I spent the first half of Kakashi’s minisode wondering if Sakumo was dead or simply too depressed to take care of Kakashi and I think dead is the less upsetting outcome 

“It’s no fun when you’re not around, Kakashi” Obitooooooooooooooo

I’m not saying it’s suspicious that Sakumo is given two different depictions of his grave site in the anime but Sakumo fucked an alien and I stand by that statement 

All I remember from Sasuke Shinden is that a character called Sasuke “Sassy” as a nickname and if they do that in the Eng dub I won’t survive

“[Deep sigh] Alright Sakura, what is it?” Fhfjhfkjh what’s your damage Kakashi can’t your kids come to visit when people start exploding

God Sakura and Ino’s relationship is the realest.... she went to the Hokage bc her gal was worried abt her family friend and then comforted her from her loss... the looooooooove

Hinata not to devalue your work in any way but why did u collapse after poking one (1) man in the chakra point isn’t gentle fist based in taijutsu

Fhjfhkjhf I’ve seen that gif before of Kakashi knowing that Sakura was thinking about Sasuke but it’s still funny

Sasuke just hanging in the woods with kittycats what kinda redemption journey is this lmao

Ehehehe I’m still not over the fact that Sasuke recognizes Sai’s jutsu and Kakashi uses it to communicate like there are six members of team 7 and this arc PROVES IT HELL YEAH

I can’t believe I forgot the circus ninja oh my god 

“There’s good money to be found for performers like us” MOVE OVER EXPLODING HUMANS WHERE’S MY EPISODE ABOUT THE NINJA CIRCUS 

Everyone always commenting on the pupils and sclera of the Hyuga and Uchiha but nobody caring about Old Man Demon Eyes from the Bamboo Village:

You’d think at this point no amount of genjutsu could traumatize Sasuke 

They’re leaning wholeheartedly into the ninja cowboy music

That is not how I thought they would pronounce “Sassy” this show is full of twists and turns

“What about reviving the Uchiha clan? You’re the lone survivor right?” said Chino, inquiring about when Sasuke was planning to have vaginal sex

“You really think you’re going to find him inside that seriously scary looking cave?” GASP IT’S TENZO TIME

AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE IT’S MY BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“You’re Sasuke, right?” asked Yamato, as if Sasuke had not provided the memorable introduction of stabbing a seasoned ANBU in the shoulder as a sixteen-year-old during a dramatic reunion with his team

“It would be easier for us to keep things coordinated, if you sent us progress reports as you went...” Okay not to be that gal but I love that Tenzo and Kakashi are an “us” in this mini-lecture about how Sasuke should call his father (Kakashi) more often

P sure that’s Yamato’s last speaking role goodbye sweet man we knew ye well

“So does this mean that you trust me?” GO TO JAIL OROCHIMARU

Every time that Orochimaru touches Sasuke I want to leap through the screen you leave that boy alone!!! Go! To! Jail!

Sasuke having to explain his social life to Taka is a dynamic I never knew I needed. What more do I want from Naruto than frames like this:

"By showing everyone that Sasuke isn’t in the Hidden Leaf Village and that he’s still out journeying around the world, it reduces the possibility that the village will be harmed” “So are you saying that Sasuke has to keep travelling forever” “That might be so” I can’t believe the entirety of Taka came up with a better explanation for Sasuke staying outside Konoha than Kishimoto himself

“Compared to me, the likelihood that Kabuto will return to evil is extremely low”

He still helped kill......... 40,000 people????? Okay dude

I CAN’T BELIEVE OROCHIMARU IS ACKNOWLEDGING HE IS STILL EVIL!!!! GO TO JAIL!!

I’m gonna pretend I don’t see Tenzo following Stranger Danger and he’s on vacation on a beach where he belongs

Fhjkhfkjhfkj what’s the meaning of this Orochimaru you’ve looked the same since you were 25:

Sasuke: No. She’s older than I am

Orochimaru: [Soft gasp] What?

Man I remember vaguely Sasuke being involved in this fight based on the Tenzo novel scene later on but hoo boy I do not like this

SCREAMMMM TENZO TRYING TO PROTECT PPL IN THE AREA HE’S HELPING

“I can’t make direct contact with him, so I better go now” I hope it is because you filed a restraining order, Yamato

“To increase the rarity, what I’ve even done is, had all but one person in a clan killed” at this point En Oyashiro is just trying to bait Sasuke

God I love how righteous Sasuke is being rn like this is the kind of dismantling of oppression I wanted for him instead of sad murder times

This battle is bonkers:

Villain: Looks like you brought a sword to a dodgeball fight

Sasuke: Looks like you brought a dodgeball to a magic eyes fight!!

Well I certainly breezed past this part of Sasuke Shinden hello Fushin

I find it hard to believe that anyone but Naruto could best Sasuke rn 

I keep joking that those eyes in the sky look like Tenzo but I’m right and I should say it

What a long, drawn-out and slightly suspicious backstory for Chino (looking at you, Fushin of two personality types)

“But now you’re still able to travel freely... and that is all because you have people who love and protect you” Team 7 cutaway with closeups of Sakura and Naruto, Narusasusaku game strong

“For the Leaf’s nourishment, your entire clan was absorbed by your village’s Roots” wow what a shitty time for such an excellent pun

Unbelievable kkhkjhfk and by this I mean completely believable:  

Chino: Please explain your change of heart re: village corruption

Sasuke: I got a boyfriend

Unbelievable x2:

Chino: KILL ME 

Sasuke: Consider this.... you have.... boy who is friend. Good enough

Chino: Wow Sasuke, you’re right

Lmao @ Kakashi proudly announcing that Sasuke is about to enter an unsanctioned jutsu fight in a bet to free enslaved people how did this letter go “Dear Hokage-dad-Kakashi, I am writing to inform you...”

Even funnier: If Tenzo wrote the letter bc Sasuke is shite at contacting people: “Dear Kakashi-senpai, Brace yourself to be worried and proud—”

“Are you Sasuke’s...” yes Chino, whatever the end of that sentence is, you’re correct

Huh I could’ve sworn at least a good chunk of these freed people go to the Leaf. I didn’t make that conversation up. I have discussed it many times!!! My poor Tenzo cut out for more logical story lines I guess 

Omggggggg the Raikage is telling Sasuke about Naruto’s most vulnerable Sasuke moment..... the love!!! Is this the only reason they invited A lmao

En Oyashiro joining Rasa and Hiashi in the Bad Dad Club

I’ve said this before but Naruto and Sakura going on a date to talk about Sasuke is the most legit representation for their relationship I’ve ever seen that’s it that’s what them dating would be like 

“You’re just like a one man police force” lol @ them cutting out the fact that Sakura said this bc Sakura’s not allowed to have individual connections to Sasuke and also just like....... how much Sasuke still wants to be a cop kjhgkjhgk baby stop

I’ve belatedly realized that Kakashi types to the beat of the intro music and it makes me giggle

“The adult world can be complicated” is that ur way of saying ‘nepotism’ Kakashi

“I’m startin’ to get a belly” “I don’t want to hear about all that” PLS

“You two are really the only ones who are special to me” aw Shikamaru

That slap was A  Lot, Temari, surely there are better ways to tell Shikamaru you want him to be your boyfriend

“You don’t really think that Sai has—” “Well, he is very innocent.” 

Kakashi about Sai: He’s the baby of the family

Sai: I’m the oldest and most experienced of all the youth???

Kakashi: I mark ur ages by when I got you xoxo ur legal age is 3

I’m not sure that that’s the intonation I expected for Hinoko but I guess that’s on me for stereotyping teen girls hahah

“That’s my ninja way” “Our ninja way” I feel like this is shinobi flirtation

The outro with Little Team 7 fading to Big Team 7... I have but one heart

Also the implication that they took a photo immediately post war jhgkjhgkj. Kakashi still has a barely healed stab wound and twenty years of trauma. Sasuke and Naruto both just lost an arm. Also who brought a camera to the battlefield. Who took this picture. (Tenzo waking up from a 224 episode coma: We gotta take a family photo)

“You might consider yourself a member of Team 7, but I wonder if they think the same of you” [Naruto voice] Believe it!!!!!!

“If we just kill the lookouts, it’ll be like easy to get past the checkpoint” okay calm down Soku

Lmao Shikamaru struggling to deal with rebellious teens jhghjkg why are the anime episodes I watch so fitting to my own life

Man not to get 2 real it’s fucked up that Soku fears peace wyd militarism 

I don’t really believe that Soku is deserting the village but it’s a good tactic

[Panning to the bird scene at the beginning of this arc] We call that foreshadowing

Komori’s judgement seems to be clouded by his lowkey crush on Soku

“I’ve just been having these really bizarre dreams lately” that’s PTSD Shikamaru

“Feudal lords are always [tyrants] no matter where you go” then why.... do you have.... feudalism.......... [Tobirama screams in the afterlife]

Not to judge these guys so much but like.... ur ANBU and a veteran ninja surely you should have a disguise after faking your death??????? Kakashi, Iruka, what shinobi standards are you teaching exactly?? U didn’t even change ur hairstyles???

“Something similar happened to me as well” what are you... are you talking about when you pretended to be asleep during the Chunin exams because that’s not the same thing as sleeping under a pile of corpses Shikamaru 

NOOOOOOOOOO SAI WHY ARE THEY HANGING MY ANGEL FROM A CRUCIFIX 

AHHHHHHH I don’t like seeing Sai like this, Kakashi’s right he’s a baby!!

“Let’s just say I’ve found the place where I belong” Fhdjskhfksjhf this is definitely Root Code for something because Kakashi uses this line on Tenzo in his Tsukuyomi dream

“Then why didn’t Naruto come to get me? You and I have never been particularly close, so why were you the one who came here?” LMAO SAI ‘you’re not on my list of eligible rescuers Shikamaru 😒😒😒😒’ 

“Fret not, to me this is but a trifle” said Ro, lying prostrate on the ground in between groans of pain (same)

I mean... Gengo makes some pretty compelling arguments abt the shinobi system

“The alliance of nations that the Leaf is currently a part of... is only going to maintain a dark, tenuous peace” I mean... Gengo’s right even if he is a dick

“Lord Hokage told me everything... and I had a hell of a time getting it out of him too” “I don’t want to know what you did... I don’t even want to imagine it” JHGKJHGKJHG I WANNA SEE TEMARI INTERROGATING A FORMER ANBU, KAGE-LEVEL NINJA I LOVE IT

Wait are these last twelve outros dedicated to each of the rookie teams + Team Guy bc that would be adorable

JHGJHGGHGJHG DO WE ACTUALLY GET TO SEE TEMARI YELL AT KAKASHI

Update from 3 seconds later: We don’t but Kakashi’s “Euh?” sound as she knocks down his door is still very funny

“Friendship is useless” “If that’s true, then why are you crying right now” he’s been taking Sasuke lessons in his spare time

“Do you know of a man named ‘Zabuza Momochi’” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“These are my only friends” said Sai, about two giant cartoon lions 

Sai’s genjutsu scene was actually much sweeter in the book bc Naruto, Sakura, Kakashi and Yamato’s chakra were all protecting him inside his own mind but I don’t mind my boy getting a hug

HAHAHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS CUTAWAY TO NARUTO BATHED IN GOLDEN LIGHT ANNOUNCING “RAMEN” LIKE IT’S A WHOLE SENTENCE OKAY STUDIO PIERROT U NEED A BREAK I GET IT

“What in the hell was that?” that was also my question Shikamaru

Shikamaru with full conviction: To be lazy.... that is my dream 

Hahahaha it’s Ninja Teen Romance Hours I guess

“Oh, you don’t want to [go out on a date]?” No that’s not what I’m saying” [walks away] TEMARI PLS

“Going on a date without a strategy, would be like trying to fight a tailed beast unarmed” [Nodding] “You have zero chance of winning, that way” I suddenly understand Kakashi’s dating life a lot more

They really rely on you being aware of Naruto the Last huh gjkhgkjhgk there’s been no mention in any of this filler of Naruto and Hinata even being in a relationship to this point as far as I remember

Fhjkfhkjhfkfh poor Iruka none of the kids know he’s President of the Naruto’s Dad Society

“I know I’m supposed to be striving to get ahead in my career, but there’s also a part of me that really wants to just continue teaching kids, one on one” Irukaaaaa <3333333

Looool even as Hokage, Kakashi just drops out of nowhere to give cryptic life advice and then leaves

Smash the statue, Tsukune, don’t let the establishment tell u what to do!!

“Eating ramen everyday isn’t healthy you know” am I to believe that Kakashi, the man who told Naruto, ‘if you're going to be a ninja, you need to eat your vegetables’ is on a ramen-only diet?? Falsehoods

“And it’s all thanks to you Iruka” khjhgkjhgjhg alright.... you win this round KKIR shippers

WHO IS ANIMATING THIS SCENE IT IS BUCKWILD??? There is no character model to speak of, most of the kids don’t have noses, everyone’s upside down or spinning around, and Iruka is... hiding in a frog sign???

There is no English translation of this caption???? EXPLAIN JAPAN. TELL ME YOUR FROG SECRETS YOU KNOW I LOVE FROGS [INSERT PICTURE OF TENZO HERE]

(Update I looked it up in the sub and the caption offers no more insight. “IRUKA UMINO, AROUND 30 YEARS OLD. STEALTHILY”)

“This is for Hinata, so let’s all try our hardest” Kiba loves Hinata MOST

You know how if you pause in the middle of an animated action, you sometimes linger on an in-between image that looks goofy because it was meant to add to the motion rather than be focused on? This whole episode is animated like one of those images

It’s okay Lee the only dumbbell Naruto is fixated on is Sasuke Uchiha

I know don’t usually post so many images in these liveblogs, but I really need anyone reading this to see the Leaf Village’s semi-canonical Unofficial Mascot Konorin:

He is??? The love of my life???

“I don’t even have a boyfriend and train every day from morning til night” yes you do. His name is Neji Hyuga and he’s very alive and he’s a jonin sensei and he will buy you all the knives you want after he takes all of Hiashi’s money and redistributes it. In this essay I will—

You see what I mean??? Neji wants to be there for Tenten (and Lee)!!!

Tenten: What would Neji do if he were here now

Neji: [starts manifesting]

“It’s you since you’re a taijutsu specialist, but Naruto and Hinata aren’t” yes????? Hinata is???? She doesn’t use weapons but Gentle Fist is entirely taijutsu??? Why does everyone keep forgetting

KHKGJHKJHGKFHKJHFKJ I CAN’T GET OVER NEJI JUST. MANIFESTING ABOVE LEE’S BED TO GIVE HIM SHITTY WEDDING GIFT IDEAS 

“And don’t forget: Hyuga” Neji........ what.... does this mean!!!!!!!!

Why say “Neji” like that Orochimaru and in fact why say anything at all [Konan voice] I’m the Hokage now, the entire criminal justice system is on its way you are going to jail!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really can’t believe that the Naruto writers looked at Tenzo’s role in Naruto SD and decided “let’s do that.... but worse” 

They animated?????????? A smaller Lee??????????? Into Lee’s mouth???????????? As if the animation style wasn’t enough. I need a minute

They are really going full Naruto SD huh??? Cut away skit like a ‘genjutsu’ scne. Lee and Guy playing a married couple and Tenten a baby. Neji in drag. This is a choice

“How can you misunderstand Neji so much” “Even if it’s only as a ghost, I’m sure that Neji would appear” I need. Several minutes

Fhjkhfkjfh Shikamaru’s vision of Gaara, Bee, Kakashi and Tsunade hanging out at this fancy restaurant. Is this who he thinks Kakashi’s social circle is these days (he might be right)

“Okay, I’ll hear you out!” Is this implication of this scene that Temari thinks Shikamaru’s idea of a first date is marriage... and she’s WILLING TO GO ALONG WITH THAT. TEMARI PLS

“Hey Ino, why would you go out of your way to make something I love? Bc she looooves you Sakura

“Sakura, I thought the same thing” GOD JUST GET MARRIED

“It’ll be too late once we go in, I could get all caught up in the mood or something like that” wait........ does Temari think Shikamaru wants to get married or fuck???? Or both??? OH MY GOD

Gaara: Naruto’s getting married.... without meeeeeeeeeee

God I love Gaara’s Blank Period hair it is truly careless and happy hair

“His ramen’s extravagent?” JKGHKHKJH everyone in the Leaf Village trying to convince Gaara that Naruto’s taste is incredibly obnoxious which is true but not in the way being described 

Kankuro what’s your damage let Gaara buy a nice and personal present for the love of his life 

Every time I think this arc can’t get more ridiculous it exceeds my expectations:

[Vaguely horrified accompanying dialogue: “The Raikage—” “—Will do the Hidden Cloud Dance?”]

“Well then, Gaara is just going to have to do the Hidden Sand Samba” Ah. Of course. The Hidden Sand Samba. Why didn’t anyone think of this plan before

Gaara is blushing because his new dream is just to samba dance with Naruto into the night

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh Teuchi giving Naruto an “all you can eat forever” coupon that’s cute our sweet boy is so loved 

Gaara: My wedding gift to you, Naruto... is me :)

“I’m just disappointed that we aren’t going to get to see you dance, Gaara” you know what that’s fair Kankuro me too 

Hahahaha Shino dissing Kiba’s plight for becoming Hokage to these random kids

I can’t pay attention to anything this ninja cat is saying because they’ve got Naruto’s voice and it is very distracting

There’s something to be curious about how it would be if Kiba married into a family that has a contract with the Uchiha lmao

Literally the girl who Kiba is supposed to be in love with is given Hinata’s voice #kibahinarights

“Oh, just take it. Money means nothing to me” the Beekeeper is truly one of the strangest characters in the Naruto universe just conceptually. Why are they wearing a giant bee stinger on their butt?

LMAO @ Kiba having absolutely no self-doubt whatsoever. Goals!!

Shino becoming a teacher after the war is actually one of the post-699 futures I like, good for him!

Iruka sweet man Naruto has compared you to a father like 1500 times have you not overheard him one (1) time

Kakashi is such a dumb stubborn bitch trying to find a way for Naruto to have a happy wedding... I love him

“This is my fault, I never taught him how to treat women! Not that I even really know about that kind of thing of course” Iruka Umino confirmed canonically gay

“I just have to bow my head a little” KKIR: 2; Me: 0

I love this tradition of Hokage boys bowing their heads for cooperation between villages yesssssssssssss

Outro for the whole OG Team 7.... I’m fine everything’s fine I’m good cool cool cool cool cool

The implication that they just sell Kakashi wigs in the village... amazing

I know this is about to be an emotionally poignant moment but what Naruto’s presence is reminding is that the only word he has said in the past 6 episodes is “ramen” LMAO

“I’m going to have to apologize to her for raising you as a such a thoughtless, inconsiderate man” raising you... RAISING YOU..................... TRULY PRESIDENT OF THE NARUTO’S DAD SOCIETY GOD BLESS IRUKA UMINO

LOOK AT THIS CRYBABY NINJA THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PARTS OF KONOHA HIDEN WAS HOW IRUKA KEPT BURSTING INTO TEARS OVER NARUTO EVERY OTHER MINUTE THIS IS WHAT BONDS LOOK LIKE

God..................... the Team 7 lover in me just despairs of this final episode bc they’re all separated and also Tenzo needs justice 4 being Kakashi’s co-wedding planner it’s in the book I read it!!!!

I will set aside my feelings to recognize that Kakashi looks very handsome

Goodbye Naruto you were certainly an experience and I mean that in every possible intonation 

[hanalwayssolo]

Somewhere Between The Music and Lyrics: Ch. 1

A/N: I’m terribly off my own schedule, as usual! So. This Prompto one-shot became a monster I did not expect so I’m splitting it into two chapters. Honestly, among the chocobros, Prompto’s the first one that came to mind when I wanted to do a band AU of sorts—because I’ve heard Robbie Daymond sing on one of their LAVA streams and it is glorious. Anyway! Song featured for this first half is Gavin DeGraw’s We Belong Together. 

Tagging pals! @raspberryandechinacea @noboomoon@emmydots @bleucommelhiver @gowithme @hanatsuki89​ @valkyrieofardyn​ @animakupo​ @lazarustrashpit​ @blindedstarlight​ @mp938368 @boo-dangy

(Links in AO3) Alternate Universes in Which You and I Belong Together: Noctis | Gladio | Prompto | Ignis | Nyx | Cor | Ravus | Ardyn

Prompto had been busily sifting through The Lost Boys’ unanswered emails at the back of their tour bus when he hears his song.

Except, it’s not quite his song.

He recognizes the lyrics in an instant—and he of all people would know of course, since he had written those words as a cry for help for his hopelessly romantic soul. But the song that aches through the speakers holds none of Ignis’s electric riffs, the swell of Gladio’s drums, the steady hum of Noctis’s bass, let alone his own vocals. The one he hears is his music stripped to its rawest, the words made vulnerable by a melancholic leak of a lone acoustic guitar and an exquisitely soulful voice.

We belong together  Like the open seas and shores  Wedded by the planet force  We’ve all been spoken for

Prompto scrambles to the front lounge to find Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis huddling by the booth over a laptop set on the table, their eyes glued to the screen in wild wonder.

Curiously, Prompto eyes them—still grinning wide in awe—and asks, “Are you guys hearing what I’m hearing now? Am I dreaming? What is happening?”

Noctis snorts a laugh. He swivels the laptop to face Prompto. “You might want to check this out, my friend.”

Prompto excitedly moves closer. Immediately, he sees the video accompanying the song entitled “we belong together (cover) by my amazingly talented roommate!!!” posted by username MasterPelnaK. He barely even notices how this video has been raking almost five hundred thousand views and likes in the last twenty-four hours as his attention zeroes in on the stranger sitting on a bean bag, equipped with nothing but the guitar and that voice.

What good is a life  With no one to share  The light of the moon  The honour of a swear

Gods. The tone and vibrato is so on point it sends shivers down his spine. But then, Prompto begins to wonder why this person is not even looking directly at the camera. Were they even aware that they were being recorded? It seems all too candid given the angle, as if the camera had just been discreetly set up on a low-lying table. Not to mention the very personal space in the background, too: a well-lit room of white walls, a cozy looking sofa, an impressive shelf of books and vinyl records tucked between potted fiddle leaf figs. Somewhere out of sight, hushed whispers could still be heard. Was this only recorded from a mobile phone?

Anyway, not that any of these things mattered. Prompto has rarely come across other artists covering their songs, and when he does, each one he cherishes dearly. But this one—this one, for heaven’s sake—has moved him the way the winds bend the trees to its will, a tiny flint that sparks a flame. He didn’t realize that the words he had written could be afforded such lyrical heft, that the music he had created had been a delicate and honest confessional that could fit someone else’s voice so beautifully, like finding a piece of a puzzle he never knew he had been missing.

Where have you been all my life?

So Prompto watches it again. And then a couple times more. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis gather to watch him curiously. Prompto briefly skims through the comments section and is thoroughly relieved to read overwhelmingly positive feedback. He didn’t even mind when he comes across a comment that says “this is even better than the original!” because fuck it, he shares the same sentiment.

And before Prompto could even scroll back up to replay the video, Gladio drags the laptop away from him.

Prompto sneers in protest. “Dude. Not cool at all—”

“What’s not cool is obsessing over a cover of your own fucking song,” Gladio says in jest.

“Hey, it’s a fucking cool cover, okay!” Prompto scoffs and flicks his eyes on the ceiling—almost rolls them, but not quite so. “And please, big guy. I’m not obsessing. I’m too chill to be obsessed, thank you very much.”

“I clearly remember you saying to the crowd earlier how you’re never the ‘chill’ person of sort, and my word. How quickly the tables have turned,” Ignis casually remarks as he takes a sip from his mug of coffee.

Prompto’s mouth falls open. He did say that onstage during their performance back at Leiden Fest. His immediate regret is letting Ignis triumphantly take it against him.

Meanwhile, Noctis lifts a suspicious eyebrow at Ignis. “Iggy, are you sure you’re not drinking tea? ‘Cause you just poured a scalding one right there.”

“I’m impressed—that’s a good one.” Gladio gives Noctis and Ignis a thundering high-five. They burst out in a gale of laughter.

“You guys are enjoying this, huh.” Prompto grabs a pillow and smashes it at Noctis, who only yelps in between fits of laughter. He hurls one at Gladio, too, but the big guy has reflexes of a jungle cat, so he only ends up catching the thing. Ignis, however, Prompto hesitates at the last second when he shoots him a menacing glance. “Okay, I’m not even going to bother attacking you, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you will kill me if you spill that coffee.”

Ignis gives him a smile and a nod, and returns to his drink.

“Also,” Noctis says, “now that I think about it, you’re giving off that same look and vibe the first time you were crushing on Cindy.”

“What? I do not—okay, okay—” Prompto groans, jabbing a finger at Noctis— “that is different. Cindy is our road manager, so I’m choosing not to cross the line. While this…” Prompto pauses and takes a deep breath. “This is also different. A very surreal and magical kind of different.”

“Now I’d say someone’s been bitten by a lovebug.” Ignis leans back on his seat, arms crossed, regarding Prompto with a pleasant smile.

Gladio laughs. “Tell me about it.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you guys,” Prompto says in a miserable groan.

But frankly, Prompto is far from miserable having Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis as friends. He considers himself quite fortunate to have found brothers in them, painfully annoying as they may be from time to time. Besides, it was through their music that helped them bond and weather the toughest of their adolescent years: they were no stranger to teenage angst, to riotous episodes of rebellion, to whirlwind romances and crazy ex-lovers, and to the turbulent journey that led them to be the band that they are today. Naming themselves The Lost Boys seemed to be a fitting tribute to the misadventures of their youth: Always lost and never found.

And yet, regardless of their highs and lows, the four of them have always had each other’s back. And that has not changed even now that they are in their thirties.

Perhaps Prompto is being overly sentimental at this point, but that’s just how it is.

Or maybe, he really has been bitten by a lovebug.

“In any case—“ Noctis firmly clasps Prompto’s shoulder— “this amazing cover of your song is breaking the Internet as we speak.”

“Well, yeah.” Prompto shrugs, though he cannot hide it in from his face how pleased he truly is. “Though I do wonder who this MasterPelnaK is.”

“Definitely not the person in the video, that’s for sure,” says Gladio.

“If I may?” Ignis reaches for the laptop from Gladio. “Let’s see here—“ the boys squeeze themselves into the seat so they could also get a look as Ignis hovers around the profile page— “this Pelna Khara happens to be a video game blogger—“

“It’s a vlogger, Iggy—get in with the times,” Prompto corrects cheerfully.

Ignis exhales an exasperated sigh. He returns his attention back on screen. “Apparently, this vlogger streams gameplays and commentaries—“

“Really?” Noctis interrupts out of a sudden rush of excitement. “Do you think he has one for Assassin's Creed—“

Prompto nudges Noctis by the arm. “Dude.”

“Right. Sorry,” Noctis says sheepishly. “Carry on.”

“Anyway.” Ignis is unfazed by the interruption as he goes on: “It appears that this is the first time this Pelna fellow uploaded this sort of material.”

“Oh and look, he’s very popular, too,” Noctis says. “Ten million subscribers? What the fuck—“

“Wouldn’t be surprised now that the video got so many hits overnight,” Gladio notes pensively. “And check it out—“ he points at the bio section— “he lives in the city. Says his hub is somewhere in Downtown Insomnia.”

As if struck by the same spectacular idea, Noctis and Gladio exchange knowing glances. Ignis, of course, is quick to catch on.

It takes a while for Prompto to understand what’s going on, and when he finally does, he shoots them all a dubious gaze. His friends are up to something, and the glint in their eyes could only spell mischief.

“Guys—” Prompto starts as calmly as he could, hands raised in an almost surrender— “whatever you guys are thinking, we don’t need to do this—”

“We don’t need to—but you do,” Gladio claps Prompto’s back. “We got ya, my guy.”

“And before you all intend to push through with this,” Ignis says, “would anyone be so kind as to ask Cindy if we can change our course and make a quick pitstop. And let Iris know, too, since… well. She’s our handler, after all.”

Gladio rises out of the booth. “On it,” he says as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“And allow me to send a message to this fella,” Noctis adds promptly, already typing away in front of the laptop.

Prompto sinks helplessly to the seat beside Noctis. “Why are we all friends again?” he says loudly, and the meaningful response he receives is the sound of their amused laughter.

 “I want that video deleted right now.”

Pelna winces at the sharpness of your words. Crowe, on the other hand, looks like she is ready to give you everything the world has to offer. In the years you have spent sharing a flat with them, this must be the first time you have ever seen them this apologetic. Which is only fair because this is the first time they have done something quite outrageous to upset you. Yes, sure—Crowe and Pelna might think you’re overreacting right now, but you’re no video blogger or Internet celebrity like the both of them are, so that’s entirely beside the point. As they sit side by side cowering on the couch and you standing over them—hands on waist, jaws clenched, eyes seething in fury—it’s as if they have committed a crime against all of humanity that cannot be forgiven.

Except the casualty of the said crime is you, and only you.

“Look, you have every right to be mad at me for my negligence—” Pelna nervously raises a hand, trying to look at you dead in the eye but flinches as if you are burning bright like the sun— “but I fucking swear, it wasn’t me who uploaded the thing! Okay, I admit—I’ve been tempted to record you for some time now ‘cause in case you don’t know this yet, you’re a really good singer. But trust me on this! I really have no idea how that video got out, I promise!”

“And it’s certainly not me who recorded you!” Crowe adds in their defense. “My alibi may not be perfect but I was already drunk that time! And even if I’m sober, I wouldn’t dare barge in Pelna’s room and tinker with his toys. Gods know what I’d find in there—”

“Only the good stuff, my dude,” Pelna says, suddenly pleased with himself. “Nothing but the good stuff—”

“How about we focus on the issue at hand, yes?” You pace back and forth, and in dire resignation, you finally flop on the armchair next to the couch. Fucking hell. It’s too early in the morning to have a head-splitting migraine. You wish this had been from a hangover or some other sickness, but it’s insane how this is all caused by seeing a video of yourself on the fucking Internet with no recollection of recording it at all. Sleuthing to find out the events that unfolded the night of Pelna’s birthday only seemed to make throbbing in your head even worse. As far as you could remember, most of the folks had been severely battered—which was why you had the guts to pull out your guitar and sing the blues away as everyone dozed off in their drunken stupor. But in your tight-knit circle of friends, if there’s anyone who could impressively hold their liquor the same way they could hold a knife, it could only be...

“Wait a fucking second.” Crowe narrow her eyes at Pelna, and then at you. She fishes out the phone in her pocket and hurriedly dials a number. With her phone on loudspeaker, the line rings once, twice, thrice. And then, a voice.

“What’s up, Crowe—”

“Nyx.” Crowe’s tone is already accusing that you didn’t even bother butting in. “You’re the one who uploaded the video on Pelna’s channel, weren’t you?”

A suspicious pause. Then, Nyx laughs. “Maybe.”

Pelna grabs the phone from Crowe. “I swear I will kill you when I see you, man! How dare you dishonour me—” as a knee-jerk reaction to his response, you kick Pelna in the shin that he yelps when he says— “and how dare you dishonour our friend!”

On the other line, Nyx is still laughing. “Wait, on a scale of one to ten, how angry is —”

“Not the fucking point!” Pelna snaps back. “How did you even manage to get into my account, you piece of beautiful shit?”

“Well, maybe next time you should make sure you always logout, alright?”

“Well, fuck you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Nyx says breezily. Even in a phone call, his voice never fails to carry his air of arrogance. “But hey, kidding aside. You all said that we should help each other in living to the best of our potential, right? And our friend right there with you, Pelna—yes, you, I know you’re listening, too—do you even realize how fucking talented you are? You have been serenading us all our life, and this is the least I could do to share how proud I am to have a gifted friend like you. I’m sorry if it’s a jackass move, but I know if I asked for your permission, that thing would never see the light of day.”

The four of you bask in a sudden uneasy silence. You should not have been touched by Nyx’s words, but here you are, almost moved into tears. Despite his occasional display of pride and vanity, Nyx is one of the kindest human beings you have ever had the pleasure to meet. He may not seem like it, but he’s the very definition of a jerk with a heart of gold. You just hope he could completely forego being the jerk and stick with his golden heart instead.

This time, you take the phone from Pelna and say, “Treat the three of us for dinner for the next two weeks, and I’ll decide if I should forgive you.”

“Consider it done. I’m a man of my word,” Nyx says, and the sound of his relief is evident in his voice. “Now... am I out of trouble?”

“Certainly not, you dickhead. Later.”

You drop from the call and hand the phone back to Crowe. The two of them gape at you as if you have finally turned out to be the monster they have always known you to be.

“Wow. You really did that,” Crowe says, looking very impressed. “You actually shut Nyx up and made him agree to pay for two weeks worth of dinner. Aren’t you a delight.”

You manage a small smile. Pelna heaves one loud sigh of relief. “Now that we’ve finally cleared things up, are you sure you want me to take the video down? You’re really getting a lot of hype from my channel, I mean we’re close to half a million views! And—“

The shrieking sound of the doorbell cuts your conversation in an abrupt halt.

“Wait, I’ll get that,” Crowe gets up and rushes toward the door.

“So? Whaddaya say?” Pelna urges fervently. He is still invested on persuading you, and you can see it in his kind eyes. “It’s one video, I know… but you gotta believe us, you really are a fucking talent—”

“Pel, it’s not that. It’s...” You get on your feet, circling around the coffee table, as if it would help you articulate all the reasons behind your sense of trepidation. Honestly, you appreciate having Pelna and Crowe as friends for their selfless outpour of love and support for your craft. But how can you explain to them that sometimes, your own music terrifies you? Is there any logical explanation behind being scared of your own voice? So here you are, standing in front of Pelna, falling extremely inadequate to gather the words out of your mouth. Instead, you say, “I’m… just worried. What if The Lost Boys had seen it? And what if they’d hate me for it?”

Pelna offers you a weird, strained look. “Well, about that—”

“I don’t think there should be anything to worry about. We love it!”

The bell-like bounce of the voice that spoke clearly does not belong to Pelna nor Crowe, nor does it fit in the ordinariness of the space of your shared apartment.

You turn—hesitantly, too carefully—to see three of The Lost Boys standing by the doorway with Crowe. And standing in front of you is their frontman, Prompto, smilingly extending his hand to reach yours.

  This horribly sunny day is getting stranger and stranger, and it’s not even noon yet.

Pleasantries have been made—and a little bit of internally slapping yourself in the face to make sure this is all happening—and now, it has all come to this. Leaning from the bar counter, you watch as the four infuriatingly beautiful men of The Lost Boys struggle to squeeze themselves in the poor thing you all call a sofa. Across from them is Crowe, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, analyzing each of them from head to toe with the sole purpose of intimidating the shit out them. Which is no surprise, of course; Crowe rarely gets star-struck in the presence of famous people, and even if she does, she hides it effortlessly well. Meanwhile, Pelna is playing a staring game with the band’s drummer—and frighteningly the tallest and largest in the group—that you cannot help but wonder if Pelna has some sort of a death wish that he needs to get fulfilled right this instant.

“So, let me get this straight—” Crowe says, crossing her arms— “and I hope you don’t mind if we’re being cautious ‘cause, well, we don’t want our roommate to get dragged into something sketchy, but… you came all the way down here to this shabby neighbourhood after you saw the cover of your song, and now you want to collaborate on a song? Is that it?”

Prompto is the one who willingly answers with a vigorous nod. He seems unfazed with Crowe’s intention of scaring them off. He glances your way before he says, “And there’s no need to worry about the contract and all that legal stuff, ‘cause we’ll have that arranged. Right, Ignis?”

“Indeed,” says Ignis. “I know this arrangement seems completely out of sorts, seeing as we came here on such a short notice, but I can assure you that we offer nothing but the best of intentions.”

“Really?” you say as you move from behind the counter to sit together with Crowe. “But you’re all men. And you know what’s more dangerous than men? Celebrity men.” No one said a word. A moment’s silence lingers as you study each of their faces, and then: “So how do I make sure that I could trust you with… this? That this isn’t some publicity stunt you’re trying to pull—”

“It’s not like that at all,” Prompto says firmly. “And if you have any doubts with your safety, well, I’m sorry if our friend Gladio looks so menacing for our image—”

“Seriously?” Gladio scoffs, turning to Prompto. “You really hurt my feelings.”

You try to stifle your laughter. Somehow, now that you look closely at the four of them, they remind you of Nyx, Libertus, and Pelna.

And suddenly, you feel bad for putting them in a hot seat like this.

As The Lost Boys begin to discuss amongst themselves with what you assume to be a stream of their inside jokes, Pelna sidles up to you while Crowe loops her arm around yours. Whispering, she says, “I think you should do it.”

Pelna discreetly adds, “And if they ever get you into trouble, Nyx is a lawyer so he should have your back. I already texted him and he’s ready to keep an eye out for you.”

You let out a rueful sigh. You have to admit, it’s hard to stay mad at Crowe and Pelna and Nyx when this is the way they exhibit their unwavering friendship: with a flourish of genuine love and steadfast support.

Empowered by your friends’ confidence, you clear your throat and you turn your attention to the four men sitting in front of you. You fix your eyes at Prompto, and you ask, “So. When do we start this thing?” 

[naomidryden-smith]

North Country Gentleman

NORTH COUNTRY GENTLEMAN – by Dermott Ryder (taken from Solstice Sunset – Features From Folk Odyssey)

This tribute to Colin Dryden, first published to the on-line magazine Folk Odyssey as ‘Echoes of a North Country Trilogy’ has gained a title change.  Within days of publication Folk Odyssey received several emails suggesting that the final line in the endnote ‘Appreciation’ could provide an alternative title.  Then, at a social gathering, a truculent woman with piercing eyes accosted the mild-mannered editor and virtually ordered the change, the editor, an affable individual, acquiesced.

Colin Dryden was born to John and Doreen Dryden on July 23rd 1942 in Bradford, West Yorkshire.  He was the second of four children.  He had an older brother, Donald, and two younger sisters, June and Christine.  He was a war baby and, on the way through boyhood to youth he experienced the post war austerity years of the late nineteen forties and fifties.

The great Yorkshire conurbation was a tough industrial environment. Daily working life there presented a history of hardship and struggle.  The ‘dark satanic mills’ of the industrial revolution still cast a long shadow.  The war memorials standing in every village and town square, with weathered names in one panel and freshly carved names in another, were a constant reminder the of the tragedy and loss of the two world wars.  The betrayal and defeat of the general strike and the haunting recollections of the Great Depression were never far from memory.

Colin Dryden’s boyhood world was a world recovering from the rigours of the Second World War and at the same time battling rationing, savage winters, nationalization, factory closures and unemployment.

He attended junior school and later Lepage Secondary School in Bradford. After finishing school, being strong and fit and not afraid of hard work, he had a number of very physical jobs with International Harvesters, a local tractor company. When not working for a living he worked at life.  He loved the outdoors, particularly camping, walking and climbing, east of the Pennines in the Yorkshire Dales and far west of the Pennines in the Lake District of North West Lancashire, Cumberland and Westmoreland.

As he grew through and out of his teen years music became his greatest and most enduring passion.  His early influences included Bill Broonzy, Huddie Leadbetter and Django Rhinehart; later influences Davy Graham and John Renbourn were largely inescapable. He was a totally self-taught guitar and fiddle master and he played at every opportunity.

Although extremely important, music was not his only diversion.  In the early nineteen-sixties he followed his actor director brother Donald and turned to acting for a while.  He appeared in several plays, including Under The Milkwood by Dylan Thomas and, with Bradford Civic Playhouse Drama School, Green Fingers productions, the Mad Woman of Chaillot by Jean Giraudoux, Knit Yourself A Lost Weekend by David Climie, and Working to Rule by Michael P Walker at the Bradford Playhouse, now The Priestley.

He was naturally adventurous, questing almost, and when the opportunity to travel to Australia came to him he accepted the challenge with some enthusiasm. Colin Dryden departed the United Kingdom by air on May 20th 1965. He travelled as a ten quid tourist under the Assisted Passage Migration Scheme, and he brought with him to Australia his observations and experiences of working life in the North of England, and his talent as a songwriter and musician.

One of his earliest recorded involvements with the popular folk movement in Sydney, in the middle nineteen sixties, was with the Friday Night ‘Sydney Folk Song Club’ at the Hotel Elizabeth, a small agreeable hostelry near to central Sydney’s green and pleasant Hyde Park.  There, for a while at least, he performed and he shared the organizational load with Mike and Carol Wilkinson and Mike Ball.

The Wilkies build a reputation for their English folk song harmonies, for their uncompromising attitudes towards material presented at their folk club, and for Carol’s occasionally incendiary letters to various folk publications. The influential and renowned Mike Ball, concertina virtuoso and fine singer, claimed a place in folk-time for his intuitive musical setting of Charles Causley’s evocative poem, ‘Timothy Winters’.  In time Wilkie, Wilkie and Ball moved back to Old Albion, the Albonian’s gain was our loss. Colin Dryden, however, soldiered on in the antipodes.

For a time, after the departure of the peripatetic three, there was a slight hiatus in smooth running but there were willing workers to help bridge the Friday Night gap until expatriate Liverpudlian and expatriate Highland Scot Morag Chetwyn joined Colin Dryden on the all-singing, all-playing management team.

Meanwhile, on Wednesday Night at The Hotel Elizabeth, the irrepressible Australian Irish tidal wave ebbed and flowed in rebellious sheep shearing chorus.  The Wednesday Night had several organizers; they came and went, some like lions and some like lambs.

It was about this time that ‘The Leaf – The Sydney Folk Song Magazine’ made a brief but interesting appearance.  Colin Dryden wrote the editorial, a couple of articles and a couple of record reviews, Keith Finlayson wrote about Huddie Leadbetter and Derrick Chetwyn of the Sydney Folk Song Club, John Francis of the Jug of Punch Folk Club and G R Tomkinson of the Bower Folk Club, Bankstown, provided activity reports and comments on their neck of the woods.  It was a good read, pity it didn’t run to a second edition.  Too many other interesting things to do, I suppose.

The Chetwyn, Chetwyn, Dryden team eventually made way for another expatriate Englishman, the highly focused Mike Eves.  Under his direction the club consolidated Friday Night and expanded into Saturday Night.  He proved to be one of the most able folk club organizers in the western spiral arm of the galaxy.  He was also one of the prime movers of the 1970 Port Jackson folk festival.

A name that resonates across the years from that formidable festival is ‘Extradition’ – Colin Dryden, now at rest in Bradford, Yorkshire, UK, Colin Campbell, now residing in England, and Shayna Carlin, now in transit – were at that time far ahead of their time.  All I can say is ‘Hush’ you had to be there.  

Colin Dryden rejoiced in both the traditional and contemporary songs he had learned from others but told a much more personal series of stories in the songs of his own devising.  For ease of identification I have taken to describing three of his songs as a North Country Trilogy.  I list them as Sither, Factory Lad and Pit Boy because in this order they came to me.

The trilogy captures enduring impressions of the industrial North of England.  The cotton mills, coalmines, terraced houses, cobblestone streets, and clogs, are all here.  He has captured an echo of race memory and recorded a culture and lifestyle fast fading into history.

In the nineteen sixties and early nineteen seventies, in Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane, Colin Dryden had a voice among voices. His interpretation of folksong, both traditional and contemporary, made him a leading folk activist of the day.  Working alone, with a partner or in a group, in a great hall or small folk club he had the power to charm and capture an audience and keep it working with him from introduction to encore.

Colin Dryden’s North Country Trilogy has a readily definable place in the common stock of Australian singers singing on.  The songs pass from one to another, in the main, b oral transmission or by hastily scribbled notes.  Some singers aim at an accurate performance of a known writer’s works, in text, tune and style.  Others add their own stamp of individuality to tune and style.  That is the nature of things.

The folk process in its way a force of nature, is always with us and a few word changes have occurred in some performances over the past thirty years or so. Even in the presentation of the songs by the most diligent of singers.

Transcription errors, copious quantities of amber fluids or the ravages of time and the failing of memory account for minor accidental changes. The only changes that I have encountered, that I find worthy of comment, are those where the delicate and contemplative North Country ‘were’ is replaced by the harder antipodean ‘was’.  To me, at least, the ‘was’ accidental modification disrupts the flow and diminishes the strangely ethereal qualify of the original words of one particular song.

The words, structure and order of verses of the three songs as written down here come from direct contact with Colin Dryden and have been tested for accuracy against the aging audiocassettes of his recorded singing.

So…moving right along, there I was, sitting at what became my favourite table in the Sydney Folk Song Club, otherwise known as the upstairs lounge of the Hotel Elizabeth, in Elizabeth Street, Sydney, one surprising Saturday evening early in nineteen seventy.  Mike Eves started the entertainment, as usual, and we all joined in with Three Score and Ten, Poverty Knock and Rough Tucker Bill.  The Port Jackson Folk Festival was still resonating in the background and there was an air of excitement around all things folk, especially at the Sydney Folk Song Club.

I was there to hear and enjoy everybody but I had a particular interested in Colin Dryden.  I had met him at the festival, at an impromptu session after a riveting Sunday night concert.  On stage his songs of choice were: Lord Franklin, Lassie With The Yellow Coatie, High Germanie, and Silver In The Stubble. Maintaining an after-part song list was too hard.

Performing alone or in a group, on stage or in the corner of a noisy, smoky, boozy room Colin Dryden was impressive.  His appearance at the Sydney Folk Song Club was my first opportunity to hear him in such an intimate venue.

Colin Dryden, introduced by Michael Eves, came to the small stage and sat for a moment in silence. Then, in his characteristically unhurried way, he told a story.  He checked the tuning on his guitar as he spoke, quite softly.  The good audience listened attentively.  Everybody laughed in the right places.  His first song, Pleasant And Delightful, selected to allow the audience to share the moment, and a chorus, worked well, then he introduced Sither.

This is a song in which he remembers, with obvious affection his paternal grandfather, James Dryden.  It tells a simple and engaging story of the old man’s retirement from full time work in the mill. It bears, as title, his grandfather’s nickname.  Sither, or Zither, translated perhaps as ‘see thee’ or ‘look here’ was the name the family used for James Dryden because it was one of his catch phrases.

SITHER Colin Dryden © The Dryden Estate

Forty years in the mill, your day’s near done, but it’s going still. Time to be thinking o’ makin’ your will, for you’ve nowhere to go, no intentions.

Weft and weave it was your game, ten thousand hours upon the frame, then walking home in the driving rain, with a brand new watch and a pension.

Time now to bide, to sit and to dream, on bygone days and the changes you’ve seen, in coal and in diesel, the power of steam, black shawls, coal stockings and courting.

Clogs on the frost on a cold winter’s morn, the smell of the grease and oil on the loom, and the wife wi’ the kids by the gateway at noon stand waiting for your wages on Friday.

Six in the morn and it’s time to rise, sleep on, old man, you’re weary and wise, to the ways of the mill, aye, and all of the tries for a part time job in the doffing.

Puffin’ and pantin’ past the mill, up to the local to get all your fill, though you’ve only got enough brass for a gill, there might be a job in the offing.

But the shuttles have flown, it’s time to roam, back to the armchair and fire at home, and leave all the mill hands and weavers alone  to their beer and their laughter and joking.

But many’s the time when you’ve stood with the best, although the looms have near turned you deaf, they’ve all got a few miles of weaving as yet before they’ll have bested old Sither.

If Sither records working life as observed from the outside, by a grandson perhaps, then Factory Lad describes working life experienced from the inside. Cold early mornings in winter, the cruel demands of the alarm clock, the desire to remain warm and snug in a cocoon of blankets are experiences shared by many.  The early shift at the engineering workshop or factory is calling and you have to go.  Travelling to work at dawn, on shank’s pony, bicycle, or double-decker bus, hurrying to clock-on almost before waking up is a way of life, if not a rite of passage. These may be memories best forgotten but they can’t be.  

           Here too, indelible and indestructible, is the manufacturer’s mark made by the mind-numbing and soul-destroying ordeal of bondage in the factory system.  So many people who have shared this song can say ‘been there done that’.  Others, of a different generation perhaps, can enjoy the song and gain some insight into the work-a-day life of a fitter and turner. Although this begs the questions: Who would want to, and why?

           Factory Lad surfaced, for me at least, at a fairly quiet drink, chat and sing a round night in a cockroach castle in Chippendale in May or June 1970. I can date the event with reasonable ease because I had recently received the first ever copy of the New South Wales Folk Federation newsletter.  It was a masthead, in small print under the larger print of the main title, ‘incorporating the Port Jackson Folk Festival Committee’.

           We discussed it at length.  It contained as much useful event information, local and interstate, that a journal that size could.  Very useful, we decided unanimously.  However, the editorial was a little disturbing in one respect.  There was an aura of ‘we’ve done good and are on our way to glory’ leeching out of the page.  ‘Big is good and bigger is better’ we inferred.  A dark omen indeed, we agreed.  The curse of the folk scene, we decided was the ambitions of some people to tur a popular music movement into a three-ring circus.  Time, we prophesied, will tell.  Then we consumed a little herbal tobacco, made several jokes about camels being horses designed by committees and got back to singing and drinking or was it drinking and singing?

           Colin Dryden sang Factory Lad.  He didn’t say as much but I gained the impression that it was a relatively new song that had been some time in the growing and cone to a performable completion during his Kings Cross sojourn during 1969.  In any event it achieved instant acclaim and there was something of a scramble to get the words. Factory Lad entered the song stock and became a favourite and the ‘Turning Steel’ chorus always gets a powerful response.

FACTORY LAD Colin Dryden © The Dryden Estate

You wake up in the morning and morn’s as black as night. Your mother’s shouting up the stairs, And you know she’s winning the fight. So you venture out of the bed, me lad, for you know it’s getting late, and it’s down the stairs and up the road, and through the factory gate.

Turning steel, how do you feel as in the chuck you spin If you felt like me you’d roll right out and never roll back in.

Sleet and dark the morning, as you squeeze in through the gate, as you clock in aye yon bell will ring, eight hours is your fate. Off comes the coat, up go the sleeves, and “right lads” is the cry, with an eye on the clock and t’other on your lathe, you wish that time could fly.

Turning steel, how do you feel as in the chuck you spin? If you felt like me you’d roll right out and never roll back in.

But time can’t fly as fast as a lathe, and work you must, the grinding, groaning, spinning metal, the hot air and the dust, and many’s the time I’m with me girl and I’m walking through the park, whilst gazing on the turning steel or the welder’s blinding spark.

Turning steel, how do you feel as in the chuck you spin? If you felt like me you’d roll right out and never roll back in.

Well old Tom left last week, his final bell did ring, with his hair as white as the hair beneath his oily sunken skin. Well he made his speech and bid farewell to a lifetime working here, but as I shook his hand I thought of hell as a lathe and forty years.

Turning steel, how do you feel as in the chuck you spin. If you felt like me you’d roll right out and never roll back in.

So, when my time comes as come it must, I’ll leave this place. And I’ll walk right out past the chargehand’s desk and never turn me face, out through the gates into the sun and I’ll leave it all behind, with one regret for the lads I’ve left to carry on the grind.

Turning steel, how do you feel as in the chuck you spin? If you felt like me you’d roll right out and never roll back in.

Pit Boy, the third song in my ordering of the trilogy, is evocative and lyrical, a song at the edge of memory.  I can only recall Colin Dryden sing it ‘live’ twice. The first time was in the winter of 1970 at a Sydney Folk Song Club Saturday night after-party at a very interesting house in Cambridge Street, Paddington.  The second occasion was at the Sydney Folk Song Club a year or so later.

           The Cambridge Street after-party had a very special resonance.  Colin Dryden hadn’t appeared at the club that night, even though he was expected, but he had a sixth sense when it came to party locations. He arrived just after midnight with a tall fair-haired girl from a different planet and a guitar swathed in a tartan car rug, because it was bloody cold out there.

           He was in good spirits, and in good voice and sang several songs.  Lark In The Morning, Cocaine and Pit Boy come to mind. Time, I regret to say has hidden the others.

PIT BOY Colin Dryden © The Dryden Estate

The times are hard, the days are long, I wish I were a farmer’s son – out in the green fields all day long – away from the dark of the day.

When the sun is hanging in the sky, the days are long, long are the sighs, down in the darkness, where we bide, passing our lives away.

And if I were a robber bold I’d rob the rich of all their gold. And if I were caught, well I’ve been told it’s better down Botany Bay.

When the sun is hanging in the sky, the days are long, long are the sighs, down in the darkness, where we bide, passing our lives away.

And if I were a sailor, I’d sail the main, and robs the ships of France and Spain. Now if we lost perhaps we’d gain for the French might raise our pay.

When the sun is sagging in the sky, the days are long, long are the sighs, down in the darkness, where we bide, passing our lives away.

Like pit ponies, down the mine going blind without the shine – though if we do we’ll never mind – ‘cos we’ll never want the sun no more.

When the sun is hanging in the sky, the days are long, long are the sighs, down in the darkness, where we bide, passing our lives away.

In terms of performance by others of a North Country Trilogy – in total, Sither, Factory Lad and Pit Boy – the only Sydney folk activists I can recall singing all three songs at one time or another are the late David Alexander and the encyclopaedic Robin Connaughton. However, I have encountered several other singers and groups of singers presenting one or other of these eminently singable songs on numerous occasions stretching over thirty years.

           Only one performance caused me to recoil with horror.  That was at a chorus cup session, when a gathering of ponderous choristers managed to turn Factory Lad into a turgid facsimile of a high church hymn.  It was the dark side of harmony singing.  Choirs, I thought, belong in far distant cathedrals, with the doors locked and bolted on the outside.

           The clock’s ceaseless ticking counted the folk at the Hotel Elizabeth on a pace through the early and into the middle nineteen seventies.  Changing fortunes hurried the departure of the Irish Musicians club and brought a new team, David Alexander and Keri Levi, to the Wednesday Elizabeth.  Within weeks they made way for Darts Kelimocum – Dermott and Alison Ryder, Tony Suttor, Maureen Cummuskey, with Keri Levito to ease the changeover.  Competing ambitions saw Mike Eves, a most able man, move on from the Friday and Saturday ‘Sydney Folk Song Club’, and the merging of the Wednesday, Friday and Saturday operations under the Darts Kelimocum banner as the ‘Elizabeth Folk Club’.

           Folk organisations always suffer the attrition of competing objectives; Keri Levi’s stay was short, and later Tony Suttor and Maureen Cummuskey sought different roads to travel.  That left yours truly and partner to run the three nights a week ‘Elizabeth Folk Club’. It was a time consuming, challenging, rewarding experience.

           A significant event in the folk lifestyle of Sydneysiders, Andrew Saunders reminded me of it, was the closing down of Tommy and Joan Doyle’s pub, the Westworth Park Hotel in Ultimo, an inner city suburb of Sydney.

           This ever-hospitable couple had made the pub a home from home for folk musicians for eight years or, as Declan Affley put it on several occasions, from time immoral.  The last Saturday, 27th November 1976, at Tommy Doyle’s was an almighty wake. The pub actually closed on the following Tuesday, many of the Saturday revellers were still there.  The Wentworth Park Hotel, and Tommy and Joan Doyle, had a mother and a father of a send off.  One of Colin Dryden’s contributions on the Saturday evening of the event was an English folk song that seemed to fit the passing of an era wonderfully well.

WHAT’S THE LIFE OF A MAN English – Traditional

As I was a-walking one morning at ease, A-viewing the leaves as the hung from the trees, They were all in full motion or seeming to be, And those that had withered, they fell from the tree.

What’s the life of a man, any more than the leaves? A man has his seasons, so why should he grieve? Even though in this wide world he seems bright and gay, Like the leaves he shall wither and soon fade away.

Did you not see the leaves but a short time ago? How lovely and green they all seemed to grow, When a frost came upon them and withered them all, Then a storm came upon them and down they did fall.

What’s the life of a man, any more than the leaves? A man has his seasons, so why should he grieve? Even though in this wide world he seems bright and gay, Like the leaves he shall wither and soon fade away.

If you look in the churchyard there you will see Those who have passed like the leaves from the tree. When age and affliction upon them did call, Like the leaves they did wither and down they did fall.

What’s the life of a man, any more than the leaves? A man has his seasons, so why should he grieve? Even though in this wide world he seems bright and gay, Like the leaves he shall wither and soon fade away.

 Russ Herman and Tom Zurycki captured that historical folk event at the Wentworth Park Hotel on half-inch reel-to-reel video p/pack film and later transferred it to VCR when they discovered that only one machine in the known universe could lay it.  It was sad to say farewell to Tommy Doyle’s but the legend lives on.

           Community access FM radio arrived in Sydney in 1975 and in early 1976 folk musicians were performing ‘live’ on 2MBS-FM on a regular basis.  The programme ‘Burn The Candle Slowly’, a magazine in pages broadcast from Tuesday midnight until 6:00am every week.  One of the pages, ‘Looking at it Sideways’ later became ‘Ryder Round Folk’.

           Derrick Chetwyn of Liverpool UK, then Sydney, later Brisbane, performed Colin Dryden’s songs Sither and Factory Lad live to air on the 2MBS-FM programme ‘Looking At It Sideways’ in September 1976.  Pit boy, performed by Colin Dryden and recorded live at The Elizabeth Folk Club, also appeared in that programme.  Recorded for posterity, and for playing in the car on the way to reunions, this moment in radio history can be found on the 2004 Screw Soapers Guild project CD, On This Michaelmas Even, SSG-sideway-760928-Z41020.

           Sither, performed live to air by Robin Connaughton on the 2MBS-FM programme ‘Ryder Round Folk’ in July 1983 generated a spirited listener response. The programme segment also included Sandy Hollow Line by Duke Tritton and Sergeant Small by Tex Morton with a tune by Brad Tate.  It was rebroadcast several times and also found a home on the 2002 Screw Soapers Guild project CD, Cross-Section of Connaughton, SSG-RRF-830723.

           Factory Lad has become, over the years, the most performed, and recorded, of the songs.  In 1977 Sydney singer Andrew Saunders, late of Folk’sle, Steamshuttle and later of the Larrikins, Balmain Light Haulage and The Symbolics, recorded it for the concept album, On My Selection, Larrikin LRF 017.  In 1982 the Melbourne group Cobbers included it on their album, By Request, Festival L37919.

           The producers of Dave Alexander’s late nineteen nineties posthumous CD, Singer At Large, DAS27/24H selected Factory Lad as the first track.  In live performance, Andrew Saunders included Factory Lad in his set at the Screw Soapers Guild 2003 Christmas convocation. Robin Connaughton of Roaring Forties, in 2004, still sings it occasionally.

           Pit Boy is also part of Robin Connaughton’s song stock.  He remembers that he first heard Colin Dryden sing it at one of the Newcastle folk festivals in the early nineteen seventies.  A short time later, in 1972 perhaps, on Connaugton’s entry into Sydney’s big city society, he heard him sing it at the Red Lion Folk Club in the Red Lion Hotel in Sydney.  There he got the words directly from the singer.  He started singing the song almost immediately and has sung it ever since. He presented it in his set at the Screw Soapers Guild 1997 Christmas convocation.

           This performance, including Old Ben by CJ Dennis and Monday Morning by Cyril Tawney, appears on the Screw Soapers Guild 2002 Limited Edition CD, Another Saturday, SSG-collect-070.  Sadly, Pit Boy and Sither are finding quiet times now.  I am hoping for a renaissance.

           Colin Dryden popularised his own songs, and others, during the nineteen sixties and seventies.  His strong, rich voice, his skill as an entertainer, his musicianship and his easy-going personality made him a popular addition to any folk club night.  Then our world moved on, tick tock.

           I have a theory, one of many, that older singers singing Colin Dryden’s songs can still hear Colin Dryden singing them, and that younger singers singing his songs wish that they could hear him singing too.

           Colin Dryden, in failing health, returned to the United Kingdom in 1986. He and his family were fortunate enough to be able to spend some valuable time together.  He died very suddenly of an aneurysm on July 28th 1988. He has found a lasting peace at Lidget Green in Bradford, Yorkshire.

Resting there, safe, home at last, a travelling bard of the hero caste, in gentle sunlight, in soothing rain, in whispering winds he’ll sing again.

People of my generation remember Colin Dryden for his personal warmth, his good companionship, his generosity, his free spirit, his delicate touch on the acoustic guitar, and for his singing of those songs we will always think of as a North Country Trilogy.

An Appreciation

Folk Odyssey – The Magazine and Dermott Ryder take this opportunity to thank the Dryden Family of London, Bradford and Newark in the United Kingdom for the help freely given in the writing of this short personal tribute to Colin Dryden [1943-1988].  He was to all that knew him, a North Country Gentleman.

FAREWELL SHANTY English Traditional

It’s time to go now, haul away the anchor. Haul away the anchor.  It’s our sailing time

Get some sail upon her. Haul away your halyards. Haul away your halyards. It’s our sailing time.

Set her on her course now, haul away your fore sheets.  Haul away your fore sheets, it’s our sailing time.

Waves are surging under, haul away down channel. Haul away down channel, on the evening tide.

When my days are over, haul away for heaven. Haul away for heaven, God be by my side.

Dermott Ryder