#Lee!Floyd

[anzynai]

Hi you love twisted wonderland too, I haven't watched the show or played the game(s) so for the request can you do lee Floyd and ler jade or ler Floyd and lee jade the lee could be in a bad or sad mood {you can choose] and they need some cheer up tickles. Have a good day/night.🤗

fEELing

Jade & Floyd (TWST)

a/n: dont worry guys i hate the title too. ALSO SORRY RVERYONE, i know it took forever to get this out but ive been struggling with coming up with ideas and idkkk ANYWAYS, at least this one is up now! i don’t think theyre too ooc but uhh, if they are, please disregard. hope u enjoy!

if this isnt obvious (which is should be), these r twins so don’t ship them??? 💀

summary: when floyd is feeling down, jade tries to cheer him up.

warnings: contains tickling, and multiple florid (floyd x riddle) mentions!

word count: 1.1k

——

“Ughhh…” Floyd groaned very audibly, walking into Jade’s room, and plopping down face-first into the bed. It was a habit of his to go to his twin when he was feeling down and didn’t feel like being alone.

Jade, who was sitting at his desk, working on his homework from the day’s classes, turned around in his chair, watching Floyd mope.

“You seem… upset,” Jade noted, pursing his lips.

“Riddle’s bein’ annoying’…” Floyd crossed his arms, pouting.

“Is he now?”

“I keep trying to talk to him, but he’s all like, ‘Get away from me, Floyd!’ or ‘I’m busy!’. Blah blah blah!” Floyd turned his head, facing the other.

Jade raised a brow. “That never bothered you before.”

“I know, but…” Floyd paused for a second, trailing off, before he let out another groan, more emphasized this time.

Jade stayed silent, thinking, before a lightbulb seemed to light up in his head. “Does this.. have anything to do with your feelings for him?”

Floyd made eye contact with his twin. “I knew nothing ever would get past you,” He replied, but didn’t deny Jade’s words.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice my own brother skipping work to bother a certain redhead? The amount of complaints Azul has had for you recently..” Jade put a hand over his heart, feigned shock in his features.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, when he keeps avoiding me,” Floyd rolled over against the bed so he was laying on top of the pillows horizontally. Jade stood up from the desk, sitting at the edge of his bed, beside his brother.

“Perhaps, talk to him.” Jade rubbed Floyd’s back in what he hoped was a comforting matter. Floyd was never one to be against touch, especially with him, but how effective it was in cheering him up varied.

Floyd invited the touch, most likely unconsciously, but leaning into it nonetheless.

“I…” Floyd seemed shy, something that was very unlike him. Jade was sure if he was anyone else, Floyd wouldn’t be so vulnerable. “I don’t know how,” Floyd admitted with a sigh. “I’m so used to annoyin’ him and messin’ with him, but I don’t know how else to act around him.”

Floyd shoved his face into the pillow, growling at it in irritation.

“And?” Jade pushed, sensing that Floyd had more to say.

“I don’t want him to be annoyed with me anymore.”

Jade’s eyes widened. This was a very interesting thing for Floyd to say, because it was Floyd. Floyd never cared what people thought of him. Jade chuckled to himself. Love really does change people, doesn’t it?

Floyd seemed to take his chuckle as mocking and he lightly shoved him away, a half-hearted glare on his face.

“In my opinion, perhaps, start with small changes. You don’t have to switch up immediately. Slowly, you’ll adjust,” Jade told him. Plus, he had a suspicion that Riddle, if not returned his feelings, at least enjoyed his presence. If Floyd was truly a nuisance, Riddle had ways of being alone, yet he was almost always found in places where a certain eel had a high chance of appearing.

“You’re right,” Floyd huffed. “As always..”

Jade resisted another chuckle, gently pinching Floyd’s side. His smile widened when Floyd flinched. “Don’t be like that, dear brother.”

He curled his index around Floyd’s waist, eliciting a gasp from the other.

“Jade!” Floyd said, but there was no tone of annoyance detected, so Jade took that as a sign to continue. It made sense. Floyd had never been against tickling, whether he was tickling someone or he was being tickled. It was typically only Azul who would fight against it, though Jade suspected it was only to keep up pretenses. Jade brought his other hand to Floyd’s hips, squeezing at the sensitive skin.

“Yes, Floyd?” Jade tilted his head, innocently, idly tapping and gliding his fingers across Floyd’s torso. If Floyd hadn’t known what he was doing, Jade was sure it would've seemed like a mere accident.

“Stahahap ihihit! I’ll gehehet you bahahack!” Floyd didn’t bother hiding his giggles and Jade smiled. Laughter was quite a contagious thing and it seemed Jade was no less resistant to it than anyone else.

Jade swallowed, slowly. He was sure that Floyd definitely would get him back, but that was a problem for the future, he decided. His hands roamed to opposite sides of Floyd’s stomach as he scribbled and scratched any place he could reach.

The shirt Floyd was wearing provided no protection. Perhaps, if he had been wearing his full uniform, but he was only wearing the white polo shirt that was underneath anything. Perhaps, it would teach Floyd a lesson to wear his uniform properly, Jade joked to himself, knowing that it most certainly would not.

“Gahahaa! Jahahade!” Floyd flipped over, his back facing the headboard as he faced Jade, his hands uselessly pawing at Jade’s nimble fingers. Jade moved up towards his ribs, poking in between the bones and pinching the skin. Jade reveled in Floyd’s laughter becoming more high-pitched.

“You are quite ticklish. Must suck being in your position, no?” Jade teased, but Floyd seemed to not hear him, too caught up in his giggling fit, his face flushed. Despite Floyd’s flailing hands, he didn’t particularly seem to be putting in any strength in getting away from Jade, not even trying.

Jade had to admit, it made things much, much easier on his end.

It went on for several more minutes, until Floyd was practically screaming with laughter. The last thing they needed was someone barging in, thinking Jade was getting murdered or something. Though, that fate may not be much different from Floyd’s current predicament.

Jade stopped his tickling hands, allowing Floyd a chance to catch his breath. Floyd had a bright smile on his face, a complete switch-up from the depressing and frustrated aura radiating from him when he entered the room, and Jade said as so.

“You seem much more calm.”

“‘Course I am cuz now, I’m gonna get you back!”

“A-already?” Jade’s eyes widened, though he supposed he should have expected that. He backed away, moving from the bed and closer to the door, while trying not to look panicked. Because he definitely wasn’t. At all.

It was just that he never got tickled much! It was always Floyd and Azul, not him! So forgive him for avoiding it! It didn’t take long for Floyd to catch up, though. Jade reasoned that he was going easy on him, but Floyd didn’t listen as he began to tickle the other with a devious grin on his face.

“Hahahaha!” Jade broke after trying to conceal his giggles and Floyd’s smile widened. It was like a dam had been destroyed because Jade couldn’t get himself to stop laughing.

Amidst the laughter, he swore he heard Floyd thank him, but he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination. Floyd started to tickle his hips, squeezing and kneading.

“Nahahahah, F-flohohoyd!” He had more pressing matters to think about anyway.

[ijustliketickling]

Lee!Floyd 2

Colors aren't perfect because I had limited options -w-'

[blueblade-fluff]

So… Floyd Leech is Canonically Ticklish- that gives the Twisted Wonderland Fandom so much more for Lee Floyd! But he is also a Ler because he swears to get Yuu back for tickling him?!

Cannon tickle scene: Floyd Leech Lab Card- Home Screen (when you poke him)

[mayplantstarrwaters]

It's fall....I'm thinking of 60s cloak/cape fashion trend

[ivy09]

I hate when I’m specifically looking for fluff and the only thing that pops up is smut

[flovoid]

“RUN CYBER RUN!!!”

collab with @simminginstars SHARRKKSSSSSS!!!

[doodles-bi-tea]

claim your “I was a Lewis Pullman fan before Thunderbolts” ticket here! (in case he blows up in popularity any more than he might have after things like TGM and Lessons in Chemistry…)

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 05 - sugar and spice

wc: 1.6k

synopsis: hangman leaves everyone hanging... right?

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: absolutely loving all of your comments!! heres some hangman and then centric stuff which I KNOW people are waiting to see more of. the next update will be the final for dogfighting 101 but will feature an interaction between rooster and athena that probably (very honestly) wont answer your questions (yet)

“Howdy Miss ‘Thena,” is Hangman’s opening as you both enter the range.

“Hangman,” your greeting’s lacking a little luster.

Despite your early success, you’d only managed tone once and this was rotation four for you, and that’s not even taking into account the variations in which you weren’t flying and that no one else had managed to take your dad down yet.

Your arms hurt, your shoulders hurt, your back hurt, and you wanted to shower so incredibly bad. More than all of that though, you were emotionally exhausted. Flying with Bradley had been the gift that kept giving because even though you’d already gone through another rotation, you kept thinking about the blow out, about the before, about Bradley. As you stood on the tarmac again, you took in the little indents in your palms from the gravel being pushed into them during your push-ups, rubbing over one red mark and shaking your head. Safe to say, you could not wait to finish out the final few rotations, and then go home.

“What’s the matter, Honey?” the tease comes over the comms and even though you know he wants an answer all you can do is scoff.

“Getting tired of push-ups is all,” you say simply.

“I was hoping so,” Jake decides and your brow furrows. You don’t need to see him to know he was planning something.

“What are you planning?” you ask seriously, fully aware that your dad and the rest of the detachment was listening in.

“I was wondering, are you still made of sugar and spice and everything nice?” it sounds condescending, and you’re sure Phoenix and Halo are scoffing at the question, but you know better.

Sugar and Spice was a code, a reference to something you’d only ever talked through with Jake during some downtime on the carrier. Unlike Rock and Roll which you’d actually trained for with Harvard and Yale during Top Gun, Sugar and Spice was completely theoretical.

“You’re joking,” you deadpan, turning to glare at him through the canopy.

“You said you were tired of push-ups. I think it could work, especially since two highly decorated and competent aviators came up with it. Unless, of course, you’d rather continue the heavy set arm day you’ve got going on?” he says nonchalantly.

“Why does it feel like you called me a coward while also complementing me?” you scoff.

“Because you know me,” is all he offers.

“That’s a lot of chatter for two aviators who don’t have the bandit in their sights,” Maverick’s voice finally cuts through, interrupting your back and forth with Jake.

“Hangman, you got eyes?” you ask staring around and out the canopy after confirming your dad wasn’t on the radar.

“No, my guess is he’s coming from below the hard deck again,” the other aviator offers and you do a quick roll, inverting like you had on the first run.

“No contact,” you huff, rolling back.

And then all of a sudden you hear a boom and Mav comes zipping down in front of you. Breaking the sound barrier as he drops from where he’d been miles above you and Jake moving faster than you’d anticipated.

“Holy shit!” you shout.

“Oh fuck!” Jake’s curse echoes with yours.

“Fight’s on, Aviators, let’s see how your arms feel after, kid,” your dad teases as he circles around.

“Break left!” Hangman’s shout echoes.

And you do.

You break left and loop around, looking for Jake who’d gone int he opposite direction. He hadn’t ditched you, yet. Not like he had with Phoenix and Bob earlier. You know it’s not entirely fair a line of thought though, he was different with you, he’d yet to break a promise or leave you out to dry, not like he so flippantly seemed to be with everyone else. You hesitate a second longer before deciding, no, I do not want to do more push ups, and yes, I do trust Jake.

“Sugar and Spice,” you finally shout.

“Wait, really?” the surprise is evident, as if despite his cocky attitude he couldn’t believe you were agreeing.

“Yes!” you confirm, rolling your eyes. “Now move your ass, Hangman!”

“My fine ass, you mean,” he shouts back and you can hear the smirk as he loops back to meet you so you could assume the correct positions.

It’s tricky, you decide.

You always knew it would be, but you never thought you’d actually try it out. In theory, Sugar and Spice was supposed to create a gap that was a trap for the bandit. Where Rock and Roll was a distraction and attack, with each aviator having a specific goal, Sugar and Spice held more risk. Here both pilots act as the distraction, while attempting to get tone at the same time. When you’d initially talked it out with Jake there were three possible formations. Option A was the Side by Side, where you fly parallel. Option B was the Stack, where one pilot flies directly above the other. And Option C, which you had succinctly named, the collision course; in which one approaches from the tail of the bandit, and the other nose.

It seemed Jake had decided to run the collision course. It took a few maneuvers, some creative flying in order to lure Maverick into the right space at the right time, but then you were approaching form his nose, while Jake came in from the tail.

“What the fuck?” was your dads response when he realized that he had to make a choice, continue to attempt tone on you, move before Jake got tone on him, or move before you got close enough to get tone on him.

He feigned a left, which you followed, but then he made a sharp turn right.

What Mav didn’t anticipate was the height change. Jake had moved up, just enough to angle himself perfectly, and to ensure that if your dad didn’t move from the game of chicken you were playing with him, you wouldn’t just crash into your own teammate.

When Maverick flipped a hard right, probably hoping to get tone on you, Jake got tone first, having seen the move coming, and prepared accordingly.

It was silent for a moment, as the tone rang out.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Maverick’s voice crackles over the comms as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

When you land Hangman’s already on the ground by your ladder, having rushed out of his jet after landing first.

You’re not even all the way down when his arms wrap around you and he pulls you down, “Holy shit, ‘Thena, that was fucking incredible!” he shouts, squeezing you for just a moment.

This is Jake, you think fondly. You liked Jake, a lot. You liked him a hell of a lot more than Hangman. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone got to meet Jake, and that, you decided was a god damned shame.

“I mean, I always knew you were smart, ‘Thee but this idea really was something else entirely! And getting to test it out, I’m fucking ecstatic the height change worked….” he was rambling, and there was this twinkle in his eyes that made the green seem alive.

You hadn’t seen him ramble since before the announcement of the detachment, honestly not for a while if you’re honest. Maybe the last time you’d both had feet on solid ground instead of an Air Craft Carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He seemed younger, the southern drawl more evident as he talked too fast to fully enunciate each word.

“Seresin! Mitchell!” the shout from your dad forces Jake to stop, and you notice as his brain finally catches up, how he steps back from you and straightens out, how the excited gleam in his eye dies out a bit, and you frown at Jake, because you watch as he tucks the more authentic parts of himself away.

“Yes, Sir?” you ask, turning to your father who was approaching.

“Hell of a move, where’d you learn that?” he asks, looking between the two of you.

“Lieutenant Mitchell designed it, Sir. After a cat and mouse training exercise on the carrier between our squads,” and if your dad was shocked before, hearing Hangman of all people pay another pilot credit was the blackout on top of the bingo.

“It was a team effort, Sir,” you argue. “Then and now, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else,” you admit, and something in both your father’s gaze, and Jake’s softens.

“Keep thinking outside the box. It’s a good skill, and you’ll need it,” your father praises you, before turning to head to Hondo for his push ups, giving the next group a bit of a break.

“Hey Maverick!” you shout after him, “Always think the 360!”

A random sentence that no one else would understand, but he would, and based off of the near prideful smile he shoots you before turning back around, you know he understood.

While your dad did his push ups and the next pairing came down, you stopped in an empty hallway. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?” he asks, pausing and then turning back once he realized you were no longer right beside him.

“I’m happy it worked too. Thanks for not leaving me hanging,” you say softly.

He looks down and then back at you, brows furrowed as if something wasn’t adding up for him, “Mitchell, you should know by now, I’d never leave you,” he says in response, green eyes swirling with emotion, too many to place, but his words feel like so much more than just talking as your wingman.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid

if your tag is striked it means i was unable to tag you.

[nickmikeoneshot]

And if I show you my dark side

Will you still hold me tonight?

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes

I can barely define the shape of this moment in time

And far from flying high in clear blue skies

I'm spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide

If you negotiate the minefield in the drive

And cheat the cold electronic eyes

And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall

Dial the combination, open the priesthole

And if I'm in, I'll tell you (what's behind the wall)

[mrslectermoriarty]

A tribute to one of the best fanfictions I have ever read:

Don’t worry, you don’t have to know West Wing to read it <3

I can’t wait for the last chapter!!!

Okay so we have

1. “Important press Conference coming up!”

2. “The enemy has invaded the territory - wait no, the marines are the good ones:)”

3. “Quality Time for the family ❤️”

4. Something official (I may have pasted a small extract of the first chapter in there as a filler *-*)

5. “Home Office on a new level, I guess…”

6. “It’s been quite a while and you’re still going strong - happy birthday to my wingman in the air and on the ground @chiefofstaff (thanks for still putting up with me)”

7. “Small Talk can be just as important as conference meetings”

8. “You leave the room for five minutes and your staff starts destroying state property (just kidding, I love them all)”

9. “The vacation where you meet the extended family”

I know that you wouldn’t see most of that irl, but it’s Pete and he’s Maverick, what can I do?

Here are part 2 and 3 ^^

[ijustliketickling]

It's been a while!

Hey guys, it's been a while since I posted anything or worked on any requests. School is back and I don't have a lotta time, I'm also not very motivated. So, here's how it'll go: I'll try to make 1 to 2 requests every saturday, and 1 self indulgent art every sunday. It's not a lot, but I hope you guys are fine with it. For now, here's a lee!Floyd doodle I made in class a while ago :)

[dailydccomics]

Suicide Squad by Lee Bermejo

[canmom]

music and narrative {[0]}

so. as part of the ongoing music researches, I've for a while wanted about the relation between music and narrative. that's going to be a long project! but to begin with I wanted to run down the examples I know, and maybe solicit a few more~

now, on some level, nearly any song has some degree of narrative. your basic love song introduces us to some characters - singer, object of their affection - and furnishes them with emotions and desires. moreover, music can play a role in a narrative without literally relating events - indeed, the art of soundtrack design is definitely a subject I want to look into at some point. even songs addressed directly at the real world, such as political songs, construct some kind of narrative.

however, for these purposes, I'm interested in songs that go a bit further in the direction of telling a fictional story, especially when those link together into whole albums (sometimes called a concept album, though this is a slightly broader concept). which can work in a lot of ways!

for example, Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid tells a sweeping scifi story of an android fleeing an oppressive society and becoming an unintentional figurehead of revolution. it sketches out a wide-reaching set of influences in constructing a scifi world, but you'd be hard-pressed to boil it down into a simple series of events - it prefers to leave a lot to interpretation. by contrast something like Splendor & Misery by clipping. deals with kinda similar subject matter - a scifi story, an escaped slave, artificial intelligence - but with a different musical approach and perhaps a slightly clearer narrative arc; sometimes directly narrating the thoughts and actions of characters, or slipping into memory, but also drawing less direct musical parallels with e.g. gospel tracks and slave spirituals. both excellent albums - both solve the problems of conveying a story musically in different ways.

of course, the largest pool of examples here comes in the context of musical theatre, and further back opera. (the exact transition from one to the other is something I'm going to need to research). particularly interesting to me are sung-through musicals such as Les Misérables, in which there's no spoken sections in between the songs. this restriction means the songs (and staging etc.) have to do all the work of conveying the events of the story.

there's a lot to be said about the various traditions of musicals (for example). there's even more to be said about the history of opera - both the Western traditions and other musical traditions that have been given the label such as Chinese opera. but that will have to wait for later day in the project because otherwise this entire post would be a huge list of musicals, and I want to try and wander all over the shop.

what I'm most curious to find is music that tells a story all on its own - no actors or staging, but more similar to oral narration. of course, in the present era, music is often released along with videos, and these can tell quite elaborate stories that will become part of the overall 'message' communicated by the song, so the lines are a bit blurry! but since the aim of this series will be to look for ways to convey narrative using music, I'm looking for examples where the music does most of the heavy lifting.

music that tells stories is something with a looong tradition in folk music, pretty much the world over. in Europe, the ballad was a common form for it, a word that survives into the present. it seems that most cultures have had some kind of tradition of wandering itinerant musician-poets - for example, at various points in history, there were biwa hōshi in Japan (pictured) and griots in West Africa, medieval Europeans had minstrels, the Celts had bards, the Occitans had troubadors...

moreover, work and marching songs such as sea shanties would also have a certain degree of narrative to them, in addition to their main function of keeping a group moving in time.

in modern times, people will sometimes attempt to reconstruct how this kind of music and lyric poetry would have been performed. you can naturally only go so far with the archaeological evidence, but I'm fond of Peter Pringle's recordings of segments of the Epic of Gilgamesh, using period instruments if not necessarily a period musical style!

in the modern age of recorded music, these traditions have become much more niche, but there are still artists who use music as a vehicle to tell a fictional narrative. (fair warning: I'm a huge nerd, so most of the examples I know are like, supreme nerd shit. also about ten years ago I was given an assortment of metal from a friend which included a bunch of what I'm about to put below.)

to begin with I've naturally got to talk about my friend Maki Yamazaki (Dr Carmilla) and the band she founded but later left, The Mechanisms. They tell a story of a sprawling gothic scifi universe, with the band playing the role of travelling space pirates who observe the (invariably tragic) tales that unfold. The Mechanisms' music starts as folk song pastiche, but gradually gets more original, although narratively they keep the approach of crossing over mythology with genre storytelling (fairy tales as space opera, arthuriana as space western).

The Mechanisms got a significant measure of international fame washing back after their frontman Johnny Sims got really big on some podcast or something.

Maki's solo music as Dr Carmilla took things in (from a narrative sense) a more abstract direction, using elaborate production and an incredibly textured sound to tell a (so far!) fragmentary story of the tragic space vampire Dr Carmilla and her doomed relationship with another vampire Lorelei (for example). And I'm gonna have lots more to say about them all, in the future, but this is just an overview so let's not get ahead of ourselves!

In a related vein (though I'm much less familiar with them) comes indie band Decemberists, who often create narratively driven songs - for example, The Mariner's Revenge Song depicts a sailor's motivation for extracting bloody revenge on someone who wronged him, with the actual violence conveyed by an energetic instrumental break. A subject that reminds me of the Clockwork Quartet, now long gone, who managed to record just three of their songs from a larger project, yet stand out as way more interesting than most of the steampunk milieu - with for example The Clockmaker's Apprentice giving a very fun antihero-revenge narrative to the ticking beat of a clock, and The Doctor's Wife a compelling tragedy of desperate medical science.

There's definitely something in common with this type of storytelling and the subgenre termed rock opera, which has a pretty long history going back to the late 60s (SF Sorrow by Pretty Things and The Story of Simon Simopath by Nirvana, thanks wikipedia), with notable examples including some incredibly popular albums like Pink Floyd's The Wall (which was adapted into a partly animated film using animations by Gerard Scarfe, c.f AN86) and My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade. In many of these, the connection between songs and narrative is fairly abstract and metaphorical - most of the examples mentioned are about the psychological arc of one character.

Calling this a genre or subgenre is kind of a stretch recently - just in those four examples we see a pretty wide range of musical styles, so it's more like an approach to album writing. Still, for want of a better word, there's definite overlap between this 'genre' and musicals. For example, the history on wikipedia cites The Rocky Horror Picture Show as an example of rock opera, which in my head it's just a musical. (Anyway, exactly the taxonomy of regular opera/libretto, rock opera and musical theatre is not that important anyway, because we want to look at the techniques of all of them!)

A more direct narrative comes in the work of The Protomen, who have the 'no way that would work' premise of creating a huge, dramatic, emotional story based on the plot of the Mega Man games. By putting the focus on the tense relationships of the fought main characters (scientists Light and Wily and robot boys Proto Man and Mega Man), and their sense of rejection and betrayal by the broader society, they somehow pull it off.

Moving gradually in the direction of (progressive) metal, we encounter Ayreon, whose entire career has been telling psychedelic and occult stories of time travel, aliens, warnings projected into the past, out of body experiences, and the history and direction of humanity. I'm not sure if all of their albums fit together into one big story exactly, but certain ideas seem to keep coming up - for example, future societies or aliens sending warnings to humanity to fix our shit before it's too late. In some of their albums (e.g. The Electric Castle) they follow the device of having each member of the band play a character in an ensemble cast, bringing it a bit closer to something like a radio play.

Also in metal land we find the rather unique project Charlemagne: By The Sword and the Cross, best known for that time Christopher Lee shed the blood of the saxon men. This is using music as a vehicle for a (more or less) historical story, featuring an old Charlemagne (Lee) reminiscing on the various awful things he did over the course of his life. Apparently they made a sequel to this album, which I never realised!

As well as history, metal also likes to lean on literature and poetry. For example, Kamelot (classed, apparently, as 'Power Metal') have a rather fun adaptation of the story of Faust into two albums, Epica and The Black Halo. Iron Maiden famously took on the Rime of the Ancient Mariner in a 13 minute song. And that's not even to get into all the songs dealing with Tolkien.

Moving on from metal before we start listing a hundred songs about vikings, it's worth looking more broadly for music about history, since it's a pretty major overlap with fictional storytelling! For example, the Boney M song Rasputin tells an incredibly catchy account of the assassination of Grigori Rasputin. Another rather more charged example comes in Nakam by Daniel Kahn and the Painted Bird, about the unsuccessful paramilitary plot to poison six million Germans as revenge for the Holocaust.

If you go looking, you can find an impressively long list of historical songs compiled by 30 users of lyrics website Genius - though many of these I feel don't really count, since they were describing contemporary events when they were written.

Of course, there is a heavy overlap between this subject and political songs - in many cases the historical subjects are invoked to comment on the present. For example, Wernher von Braun by Tom Lehrer was written at a time when von Braun was leading the US space programme. In many cases, the songs simply invoke a historical event to express a feeling, assuming you already know what happened. Others may recount events more or less directly, before seguing into a verse or two at the end about why it matters now. Most of the songs in this list focus on recent (20th-century) history, sometimes they reach further back - mostly to talk about colonialism.

Historical songs can also be quite oblique. For example, Mili's song Salt, Pepper, Birds and the Thought Police is about the life of Korean poet Yoon Dong-ju, but you wouldn't necessarily know it from the content of the lyrics unless you were already familiar with Yoon's life. More on Mili in a moment - most of their songs are more fictional.

One thing I'm curious about is whether there are examples of more historical fiction in music, which tries to imagine the thoughts and feelings of historical characters... well obviously there's Hamilton, and perhaps that illustrates why there aren't a lot more songs about non-recent history, because the vibes can be off.

Storytelling is still a powerful mechanism even in a contemporary, political song. Take Construção by Chico Buarque - the story it tells is of the pointless death of a construction worker; with the lines ingeniously remixed over the course of the song, this turns into a wider illustration of the ruthlessness of the system that killed him. Its lyrics are absolutely fucking genius, even if you don't speak Portugese.

Speaking of language, most of the examples I've covered so far are in English, since well, that's my native language. It's naturally a little harder to access a story in a language you don't speak, but in these days of subtitles, we kinda can! So for example I can encounter projects like MILGRAM, something of a combination of music project and voting-driven story, in which we are introduced (by character song) to a number of characters facing execution - and then invited to vote on who should die. Heavily illustrated, it is somewhere vaguely in the space between album and straight-up anime.

I mentioned Mili already, but many of their other songs have a strong narrative arc to them, and sketch out the contours of a fictional setting. For example, one of their best-known songs is world.execute(me), which portrays the failure of a bdsm relationship between an AI girl and her creator. Which is relatively grounded by Mili standards - other songs depict for example the relationship of a jiangshi and a mad scientist cooking food, or a witch reanimating a knight with scientific methods to kill on her behalf.

And I think that will suffice for now. But we are of course only scratching the surface - this is by no means supposed to be an exhaustive list but I'm sure there's stuff that I'll be kicking myself for not mentioning. Mostly, however, this is a request for recommendations - particularly, of music from genres I haven't addressed in this post, and especially non-English languages, or that convey their stories in especially creative or unusual ways.

This project will likely be a long time in the works - it's something of a supplement to the Music Theory Notes (for science bitches) series - but my aim will be to pick out a few of these to examine how they go about conveying narrative through songs. Because I think that's kind of one of the big things I want to do with music.

ok canmom out i gotta go play some music. see you next time!

[anzynai]

Day 1 - Anticipation

Floyd & Riddle (TWST)

YAYAYAYYAYA first day of tickle tober and we have florid teehee well its not stated but u can interpret it as however u like. this one is very short unfortunately but i hope you dont mind, i didnt knkw how to make it longer without making it appear forced😭😭 eitherway hope u enjoy this

——

“if you’re going to do it, just.. just do it!” riddle exclaimed, embarrassed and exasperated. floyd just grinned at him, smug and toothy, as he wiggled his fingers towards the other, almost mockingly. riddle closed his eyes, nerves aflame, before the tingly sensation that he was expecting to feel seemed to pull away just as it began to graze his skin.

riddle peeked one eye open, before raising a brow, almost in disbelief.

“you’re so funny, goldfishie!” floyd chuckled to himself, looking way too entertained for riddle’s taste. again, floyd continued that motion— wiggling his fingers and pulling away at the last second, until it was evident that riddle wasn’t going to fall for it.

“you’re just teasing me at this point! are you not going to do it at all?” riddle asked, crossing his arms, eyeing the much taller one in suspicion.

“do what?”

“you know what!” riddle sputtered, face hot. this time, a content smirk adorned floyd’s features, as he leaned forward, towering over riddle more.

“oh, you want me to?” floyd asked, beaming.

riddle looked away, not agreeing but not exactly denying it either..

when riddle looked up, then back at floyd’s hands, which started moving again. riddle frowned at it.

even though he knew floyd wouldn’t do it, seeing how he had barely touched him the last few minutes, he couldn’t help feel a bit nervous as his hands slowly got closer and closer towards his torso.

then they paused, about to pull away, and riddle sighed, slowly. of cour—

“GAH!” riddle cried, feeling contact as floyd began to spider his fingers across his stomach. “nohoho, stahahap!”

“hehe, guess i did know, afterall, huh?” floyd teased, after not stopping and riddle groaned through his laughter. this tease…!

[shadowsndaisies]

iceman's final flight

WC: 3.3k

synopsis: ice's funeral, as you can imagine, is painful and heartwrenching

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the brain rot my friends is absolutely insane.

You never liked wearing your full-service dress uniform. The whites meant shipping off, and the blacks always seemed so morose. And wearing it for Tom Kazansky's funeral, well, it was difficult to even get it on. Honestly, if Jake hadn't knocked on your door, you're not sure you would've been able to do it.

But he did.

He stood, fully dressed, and didn't say anything when he saw you still in your pajamas. Simply squeezed into your barrack and directed you to the shower. When you came out, he had your service dress laid out on your bed. he waited, back turned while you put them on, and then sat you down and did your hair. You focused on him while he did. The careful movements, the gentle brushes. You knew he had a sister, but this was much more of Jake than of Hangman.

He didn't ask you about it, even though you know he probably wanted to. He knew that your dad had been close with Ice; they'd been in the same Top Gun class, and that was all he needed to know for now.

So he helped you get ready.

He gave you a protein bar because he knew you wouldn't eat anything otherwise; quite frankly, you weren't sure you could stomach even that, but he patiently waited, watching, making sure you ate something. The blank look in your eyes was alarming because in the years he'd known you now, he'd seen your eyes get glassy with nostalgia, sadness, and heartbreak. He's witnessed the fire from anger, ferocity, and challenge; he's melted at your softness, your light; and been in awe of your mischievous streak, and cunning mind. He's never seen this, though, the blank dis-attached expression.

He guided you to the atrium where the rest of the recalled aviators were meeting before you'd all participate in the procession to the burial site. Hand pressed to your back, as you seemed to disassociate with everything around you.

Your dad was already on site when you arrived. Staring at the photo of Ice, and while he looked every inch the PACFLEET Commander that he was, you much preferred the collection of photos that you had. Polaroids and film shots from you as a toddler on his shoulders or in his lap, the collection that grew with each of your father's deployments spent in his home, of barbecues and beach days. This man helped raise you. He filled in the role of father when yours was on a deployment. He signed permission slips and stayed up with you that first night of every deployment when you were too anxious to sleep.

Goose had been your godfather, the one who you would go to if something ever happened to Mav, and then Goose was the one who was gone. And Mav changed the papers. He changed it because how could he place that pressure on Carole when she's battling her heartbreak and raising Bradley? Ice and Sarah were the ones who would assume you if he took his last flight before you were old enough to take care of yourself.

When your dad spotted you, he waved you over. You felt Jake's hand at your back reassuringly before you left the rest of the team.

Approaching your dad, you notice who is next to him, and you have to fight to not break down at the sight of Aunt Sarah.

"Ma'am," your voice cracked as you stood at attention.

There were tears in her eyes as she looked at you, "Stop, no," she corrected, arm grabbing you. "You're our girl, remember? I don't want Ma'am's, not from you, never from you," her whispers bring more tears to your eyes, and your vision swims as you try to breathe through it.

"Lieutenant Mitchell," you straighten at Cyclone's voice and turn to him. "A word before we begin," he calls, and you nod. "Apologies, Mrs. Kazansky, for the interruption.”

You squeeze Aunt Sarah's hand before walking over to the Vice Admiral, "Yes Sir," you respond, standing at attention.

"The Kazansky family has made a request," he begins, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Sir?" you ask.

"Mrs. Kazansky, has indicated that following the conclusion of TAPS, she would like the flag presented to her children," he explains.

"I'm sorry, Sir. But it was my understanding that you would be presenting the flag?" you finally ask, though your voice lacks its normal luster.

"In his instructions, Tom Kazansky requested that you present the flag to his family, Lieutenant," Cyclone says, and you freeze.

He did what?

Your eyes meet the Vice Admirals, and you're not sure how to react or what to say.

"Do you accept this final order from former PACFLEET Commandar Tom Kazansky, Lieutenant?" he presses when you stay silent too long.

"Sir, yes, Sir," you affirm.

"Good. You will honor his flag, Lieutenant, assume your position," he nods to the space where you assumed he would have been, but you nod your head in affirmation.

"Yes, Sir," you repeat.

He nods once more, a look in his eyes, but doesn't say anything else, instead walking away. You took a moment to breathe, then you turned and assumed the position across from Cyclone. Your eyes focused for a moment on the coffin in front of you. The resting place for the man who helped raise you. You swallowed the lump in your throat again and then assumed a position at attention. You made eye contact with your dad, who nodded at you with glassy eyes, with Natasha, who offered a sad smile in support, with Jake, whose expression was nearly unreadable but whose eyes were focused entirely on you, and finally with Bradley, who looked like he was in a similar boat, keeping back tears and swallowing the distress in his throat. He was so much bigger, so much older than when his mom passed, but his tells hadn't changed all that much. You focus on him for a moment, and despite the rift, the still uneven footing you both have with each other, there's something there in this moment, brought on by the man who loved you both the way he loved his own kids.

When TAPS began, a chill went down your spine, a finality of what it all meant settled over you, and a tear escaped. You sniffed but remained silent. Warlock was on your left, and Cyclone was across you. You followed the motions, folded the flag, and when the ends were tucked in, you approached Aunt Sarah. She nodded with a sad smile, and you continued, stopping beside Ryan and Elizabeth. Ryan and Elizabeth, who had been your younger siblings, who you love so much, and who you used to play with in their playpens. Ryan and Elizabeth who were both married with their own kids now. They looked so incredibly sad, but as they stared at you, Elizabeth started shaking her head like she couldn't believe this was happening. And when you held out your hands, flag proffered. Ryan's hands clenched, but he waited for Elizabeth. When he looked at you for help, you cast a sideways glance at Aunt Sarah, who was crying silently now.

"Lizzie," you whisper, and Ryan's eyes blow wide.

Talking was not a part of the process, especially informally, not when presenting honors to a grieving family, but this was your family, too.

"Lizzie, take the flag," you whisper again, and this time she meets your eyes, and you nod encouragingly at her. "Take the flag, kid," you repeat, and this time, she uses one hand to hold her brothers as she accepts the flag. Ryan's other hand supports it, and if you squeeze his hand gently as you hand it off, no one else needs to realize it except him.

You step back and salute the Kazansky family, and your father steps up to do his part. His wingman until the end, you watched, arm still raised, as your father approached the head of the casket and placed the aviation wings at the head, pounding it into the casket.

His final flight.

The sound of the pin pounded in place and echoed in your ears long after the jets of salute and the sound of TAPS.

When it was over, and the civilians began to walk away, you moved to fall in line with the aviators. A space had appeared beside Bradley and Hondo. You swallowed as you stepped into it. You could feel his eyes on you as you did.

When the call for dismissal was stated, your whole body seemed to sag a bit, tired, strung out, and heartbroken.

"(Y/n)-" Bradley's the one who said your name so softly, so broken, that you almost caved. You almost caved and launched yourself at him the way you would have in the past.

Almost.

Because Ryan and Elizabeth were walking straight up to you at the same time, calling you with a wavering, "Miss Mitchell," the tone nearly reminiscent of when you were kids.

"Kid Kazansky," you greet in kind, matching his tone.

"Is it bad form to hug you now?" Elizabeth asks though she doesn't really wait; instead, she lunges at you.

You rock back a bit and feel Bradley's arm steady you before it retreats.

"Never bad form for a Lizzie hug," you whisper, and she sobs a little.

"Bradley?" Ryan's surprise is evident as he stares at the man beside you. His eyes jumped at you and then Bradley like he couldn't figure out the puzzle before him, not that you blamed him; you were having a hard time, too.

"Wait, Brad?" Lizzie asks, turning to catch as Ryan and Brad shake hands.

"You two grew up," he notes sadly.

"Well you'd know-" you pinch at Lizzie's side, she had a smart mouth, something Ice and Sarah liked to blame on you, but now was not the time, and this was not the place.

Elizabeth huffed but stepped aside to stare at Bradley, and he stood and took it while Ryan stepped up and hugged you. If he squeezed tight, you squeezed back, and when he pulled back, you could see today's toll on him.

The Kazansky kids have been prepared for this day from the moment Ice was diagnosed, maybe even earlier when you consider all the deployments, but just because it was a possibility, the reality of it was painful to experience and to witness.

"Mom wants to know if you're able to come to dinner tonight, she said to add she's not afraid to pull the grieving widow card," Ryan asks, and you smile ruefully.

"I-" you begin, but Lizzie cuts in.

"We understand, though, if it won't work," she reassures you. "Dad mentioned some special detachment as the reason you were back for a bit," she admits.

"Time sensitive and top secret," Ryan supplies, and you frown at them.

"When'd you two get so smart?" you ask with a frown, bringing a small watery chuckle out of Aunt Sarah, who'd finally walked over herself.

"Probably around the same time you did, sweetheart," she says gently, taking your face in her hands.

"I am so proud of you," she begins, and the tears reappear in an instant.

"Aunt Sarah-" you try to stop her, all too aware of how the rest of the detachment is unabashed in witnessing this moment.

"I am so incredibly proud of you, Lieutenant Mitchell, but I am even more proud of (Y/n)," she begins again. "And he was too. He was so, so proud of you. And folding the flag, it was unfair of him to ask that of you, but I am so proud of you and so grateful that it was you handing it off, holding his honor," she says, and you break.

A sob slips past your lips, and she pulls you forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, mindful of your cap. "I will see you at dinner, Lieutenant. It's perfectly alright if you're late. We've spent a lifetime on the Navy's clock; we can last another day," she says finally, and you nod. "Good, bring your dad," she adds as an afterthought.

"Yes, Aunt Sarah," you nod.

"Good girl," she smiles again, still holding your face, and when she lets go, she straightens your coat, just like she did after hugging you at your graduation. She finally looks down the line at the aviators standing nearby. She starts with Bradley, directly on your left, "You too Bradley Bradshaw, I expect to see you at dinner, and I demand one song, any song," she says forcefully, staring hard until he nods his affirmation at her, lips sealed shut.

She looks down the line; you know she recognizes Yale and Harvard from when you were in Top Gun originally; the two had become your guests for poker nights and barbecues. She turns back to you, "Bring all twelve of them," she finally decides, and you hear the intake of breath beside you.

"Aunt Sarah-" you begin.

"Let's teach them who he really was, huh?" she says softly, and you nod.

"Yes, Ma'am," you agree.

She smiles, tapping your cheek one last time before turning to her kids. Each loops an arm with her, and they walk back toward their cars. The second they're away, you sag fully, all but ripping your cap off, breathing too fast; you know you are.

Bradley reaches for you first, but you flinch away, and he freezes. Nat's calling your name, and the rest of the team is lining up around you protectively. The first set of eyes you meet are green. Jake. Slowly, he shows you his hands, and one starts at your shoulder, skims down your arm, and takes your hand, pulling it into his chest.

"C'mon, 'Thena," he whispers softly, "five senses," he adds, and you nod jerkily.

Five things you can see: green eyes, Jake's ribbons, Bradley still hovering beside you, the grass, the jet trail in the sky

four things you can touch: Jake's dress shirt, the cufflink of Jake's coat, his hand, which is holding yours in place, the chain of your dog tags around your neck.

Three things you can hear: distant chattering of all the funeral attendees, Jake's gentle affirmations, Hondo on the phone

Two things you can smell: Bradley's cologne, the fresh dirt, and topsoil.

One thing you can taste is blood from where you'd bitten your lip during the ceremony.

You take a staggering breath at the end and let go of Jake, who straightens beside you and waits for your next move. He allows you a moment to continue evening out your breathing.

"Two feet on the ground, right?" he asks.

"Copy, you," you confirm.

He nods, satisfied by your response.

You finally look around at how the team had shuffled to keep you out of sight from anyone else. Yale and Harvard are sending you concerned glances as they stand guard.

"I'm fine," you tell them, waving off the concern. "I'm fine, it was just too much, at once, but, I'm fine," you say, readjusting your cap back on your head.

"Maybe you should take a minute, Athena," Bradley cuts in.

"I said I'm fine," you negate.

"Just take a breath! Do your box breathing-"

"Box breathing? Are you serious Bradley?" your tone finally loses the flat edge it's had all morning, giving way to incredulity. To his credit, his eyes blew wide at it. "Box breathing hasn't worked since I started pulling Gs regularly," you scoff. "I said, I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine!" he argues, the two of you facing off across each other now.

"And how would you know?" you challenge, voice dropping back to a reasonable level, but suddenly so cold. "How could you possibly know what fine looks like for me now?"

He freezes again; it's a direct dig, more so than any of the wave-offs you've done when he tries to talk to you since you both got reassigned.

"If Athena says she's fine, then she's fine. I'd take her at her word any day," Harvard cuts in, and you look at your friend gratefully.

"Seconded, c'mon, we can give you a lift back to base," Yale agrees, and you nod.

You spare another glance back, focusing on Jake. He nods at you, though you can see the concern in his eyes, and you nod again, turning and walking in line with Harvard and Yale.

"My saviors," you whisper to them.

"It's a hard day, and the absolute least we could do," Harvard offers.

"You're getting softer with age, Brigham," you chirp, but there's no heat behind it.

"Speaking of soft," Yale hedges, and you side-eye Logan. "Hangman knows about your anxiety attacks?"

"Not only does he know, he knows how to talk you down," Harvard supplies.

"Don't," you warn them.

"Today is hard, we know. We know it's going to be hard for a long time," Harvard back peddles.

"We just… we wanna look out for you Athena, you always did for us, you still do," Yale clarifies. "Look, Hangman's a cocky bastard-"

"I believe Phoenix was the one to coin the term Texan Douchewad," Harvard supplies.

"But," Yale sends his WSO a look, "it's obvious, he's different with you."

You were content to ignore the prodding, but Harvard stopped, handing over the passenger seat door. He planed to open it for you but pauses and holds out a hand.

"Just hold on a second, please," Harvard asks when you start glaring at him. You huff but pause. "Look, today… today sucks, but seeing him help you makes him suck slightly less in my book. You're the only person he didn't ditch during the dogfights. We assumed he was brown-nosing because Mav's your dad, but obviously there's more there. Ice was… he was so much more than PACFLEET Commander to you, we know that. We've seen what you and he were like together. I consider myself really fucking lucky that you trusted us enough to share that shit with us, and clearly Hangman knows it too, but he hasn't made a single Nepo-Baby joke the entire detachment," he lines out, and when you drop his gaze, he sighs.

"Athena, we learned day fucking one at Top Gun that you are a force and a half, we have always got your back, we just… we need to know the play is, that's all," Yale tags on.

You lift your gaze and stare at the two; Brigham and Logan were the only Aviator/WSO team that got recalled. Payback and Fanboy hadn't worked together before, nor Phoenix and Bob, or even Fritz and Halo, just them. You're stuck on how well they know each other for a second, and you are so glad they got called back, too.

"The play.. the playbook is on fire," you admit, and they share a nervous glance. "It's in a fucking dumpster fire, with jet fuel poured on top," you tell them, and they wince. "But, the plan is we go back to base, we finish the day, we go to dinner. I'll probably cry my fucking eyes out, so hopefully, one of you will bring tissues, and then tomorrow we go back to work because Ice died, but the clock doesn't stop, and he'd be pissed if I let Jake or Bradley make Team Leader over me," you huff out.

It hurts so much because his phrasing would have been over my dead body will you let cocky aviators walk over you, but he is dead.

You just buried his body.

That doesn't change the point, Kiddo.

Your heart clenches at the response because it even sounds like Ice.

Ice cold, no mistakes, the voice continues.

"Ice cold, no mistakes," you repeat softly.

"Then that's the play," Brigham nods, finally opening the door for you.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891

[nickmikeoneshot]

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes

I can barely define the shape of this moment in time

And far from flying high in clear blue skies

I'm spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide

If you negotiate the minefield in the drive

And cheat the cold electronic eyes

And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall

Dial the combination, open the priesthole

And if I'm in, I'll tell you (what's behind the wall)

And if I show you my dark side

Will you still hold me tonight?

And if I open my heart to you

And show you my weak side

What would you do?