#if i was id probably be dramatic but 2 of them are under lyric | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

passable-talent · 4 years ago

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Hi yes so I just finished the anakin punk au and it was uh perfect? And you should 100% please write more in that au it doesn’t even have to be in some coherent storyline, just more punk anakin please I am hooked

say no more my dear

I write this. and I think to myself “punks. they like weed. they drink. I should talk about that.”

and then I don’t. because I have a,,, responsibility to promote good health I guess?

don’t do drugs kids. most of them arent worth it i promise

and yes just like i mentioned wattpad in the last one tumblr is coming up on this one we’re breaking the FUCKING fourth wall

part one here

You passed out on his shoulder, exactly as he predicted, at about 2:00 AM.

He didn’t notice for a few minutes, and once he had, he had to make a very hard decision.

He knew you were leaving in the morning, you had other places to be. And he had to get home, Cliegg was going to be pissed he’d been out this late as it was. But- just like you, he never wanted the night to end.

At 2:15, he shimmied out from under you, finding your room key quickly. Once he’d slipped it into his pocket, he picked you up, carrying you all the way back to your room. The door seemed to scream as it opened, but none of the girls were awake. He laid you onto the only empty bed, leaving your room key on the dresser, and kneeled at your beside, for just a moment.

A night he wasn’t going to forget. One he wasn’t willing to leave behind.

He found the notepad left by the hotel for guests and its nearby pen, scribbling his phone number onto it before smacking it onto your room key so that he knew you’d see it.

He wasn’t taking any chances. He did everything he could to make sure that you were safe, that you’d sleep soundly, that he’d see you again. It was a bit of a walk back to where he’d left his car, at the venue, but it was worth it- he shrugged his jacket up around his neck against the cold and kept going, remembering how it’d felt to hold you.

But, in all of his kindness, he had made one mistake. You didn’t get to say goodbye.

You woke up in the hotel room the next morning, for a moment thinking that maybe you’d dreamed the whole thing. But then you realized you still had your shoes on, and you were laying on top of the sheets, why the hell would I do that, and you phone hadn’t been plugged in, and-

And there was a phone number on the dresser.

You weren’t really ‘dating’- you shouldn’t call it that. If you were going to call it that, then there would inevitably be a post on someone’s tumblr that you had a boyfriend, and who was he, where was he from, yada yada... that damn website already had half the internet convinced you were dating Padme, you didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire.

So no, you weren’t dating. But you were texting every day. You learned so much about him, about how he was raised by his mom and worked at her friend Watto’s auto shop, about his step-brother and future step-sister-in-law, how his mom died when he was nineteen, about how he’d tried to move to California with his friend Obi-Wan a few years ago, but it fell through. In return, you told him about your life- living in the outskirts of San Francisco, being pushed into ballet lessons as a kid (as he said- ‘that’s why you look weightless on stage!’), being cut out from your family for quitting college to pursue music.

You texted every day and every night, sent him videos from gigs, and he sent dumb little snapchats from underneath whatever car he was working on. You expected that to be it, probably for a long time- neither of you had the money nor the time to see each other more often. So you held onto the connection you had, the night you’d spent together.

And you thought that’d be it. But- the universe has a funny way of surprising you.

Your record label was based in LA, so you lived in Salta Ana, about thirty miles away, where the real estate was way cheaper. The band lived together, close as four friends could be, so they knew all about how you’d fallen for Anakin. Ahsoka would notice you glued to your phone, and ask snarkily “texting skyguy?” to which you always scolded her that his name was Skywalker.

Living so close to LA made it easy to do gigs at any venue that would take you- bars, clubs, a particularly anarchist biker hall. A bar- such was the case for tonight.

Like usual with a gig like this, Aayla had taken to instagram and called any fan in the area, so the bar was mostly filled with people who knew the music, but there were regulars, too. People who couldn’t be damned to listen to the lyrics, and just let the atmosphere move them.

The setlist changed, when you were at a place like this. You didn’t necessarily rely on the hundred voice chorus that you loved so much, and so couldn’t include some of those songs. Your music strayed a little more to the rock end of the spectrum, when you played in places like this. With that high energy came faster music, more running around the stage, more movement, but you weren’t tired, when the set ended at 11:25. You were more energized than usual, in fact.

“Pads, I’ve never heard you solo like that!” You said, a bright smile on your face as you pushed out of the employee entrance of the bar. She gave you thanks, but not a moment later stopped dead, not saying a word, staring at you. You paused, looking at her, then Ahsoka and Aayla, who’d both stopped, too.

“What?” Ahsoka and Aayla, though, were looking at something past you, which made you realize that Padme was, too. You turned, and leaning against the wall was- was Anakin.

“Oh my god,” you said under your breath, dropping into a run toward him immediately. “Anakin!” He shoved himself off of the wall, letting you run into his arms, and just held you. You pulled away to look at him, amazed that after months, here he was, right in front of you, real.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, bewildered, surprised, ecstatic.

“Visiting Obi-Wan,” he said, and he lifted his hand to your face, giving you a good look at that tattoo you hadn’t quite forgotten, dark lines reaching from his elbow to his palm.

“And you,” he added. You couldn’t help it- you hadn’t seen him in so long, you couldn’t help the way you leaned into it when he pulled you into a kiss, and this time you weren’t exhausted, and you could let yourself feel it, you could pay attention to his chapped lips and the way he slid them over yours, still soft, even after waiting in the cold. You never wanted to leave this moment, like so many of the others that you spent with him, his hands on your face keeping away the January air.

“Yeah, I’m heading home,” Ahsoka said, making you break the kiss. “Coming, or not?” You looked back at her with a bit of a glare, letting Anakin’s hands fall to your neck.

“You guys go ahead,” you said, checking your jacket pocket for the essentials- wallet, phone, house keys. “I think I have a tradition to uphold.”

The bar you’d played at tonight was a bit far away from the place you wanted to take Anakin, but you didn’t mind the walk, since it was with him. You’d been texting every day, and yet it felt different, there was so much more to talk about now.

Apparently, Anakin hadn’t seen Obi-Wan since he’d left to move to LA, so it was a visit to an old friend as much as it was an excuse to see you again.

“So you’re staying with him?” You asked, leading him by the arm down the street.

“Yeah,” he said, hooking his elbow into yours, which let him keep his hands in his pockets. “He’s got an apartment in east LA, it’s got a nice couch.”

“East LA, not bad. What’s he do?”

“He’s a talent manager, actually. Went to business school and everything.” Anakin paused, suppressing a chuckle. “He told me that he’d love to represent you, if you didn’t already have someone.”

“Sadly, we do,” you said, playful, “but I’ll keep him in mind.”

You’d pretend it was the winter chill that brought the flush to your cheeks- he’d told his friend about you. That had to mean you were important to him, right?

“Where are we heading, anyway?” He asked, and you, luckily, could channel your inner dramatic and turn toward the doorway you’d been heading toward all along.

“Right here,” you said, and you took him inside.

This was your recording studio- it was always open, so that any artist could stop in and get out whatever creativity they had. You showed your ID card to the lobby clerk, who approved it and called the elevator. Anakin followed your lead until the door closed, and just like you had on the night you met him, you pressed the button for the highest floor.

“This is one of the buildings for our record company,” you said, the elevator so familiar.

“Which would explain why he let you in,” Anakin said, a slight teasing tone to his voice. All you could do was chuckle, waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor.

From there, you lead him to a glass door, and swiped your ID card through a reader near its frame so you could step outside.

“This is the rooftop set,” you said, gesturing to the wide space, “It’s where we film a lot of music videos.” This close to the door, it was hard to see over the side of the building, and so you took Anakin’s hand.

“The city lights keep us from stargazing,” you said with a smile, and brought him to the guardrail at the edge of the roof. “So I thought I’d show you the city’s version of the night sky.” Looking out across the city, there were a thousand orange sparkles, windows illuminated in buildings stretching as far as the eye could see. Criss-crossed between them were lines of red and white, LA traffic clogging the city streets even so late at night.

No matter how many times you came up here, you’d never get tired of the view. Fifty-five stories up, there were other buildings that dwarfed this tower, but the west was free of them, so your view to the horizon was clear, even in the LA overcast.

“Wow,” he said, looking out over it all beside you. “I’ve never- I don’t think I’ve ever been up this high.” You fixed him with a surprised expression, leaning your elbows down onto the banister.

“No? Really?”

“I didn’t grow up in a city, like you,” he said, settling in beside you, his arm pressed to yours. You let your head rest onto his shoulder, remembering the night you met.

“I’m glad you came out to LA,” you said, “though I’m hoping you’ll stay a while. I want to go on an actual date with you.” You heard him exhale.

“You don’t call this a date?” he asked, and you lifted your head, looking at him, the lights of the city giving his face the slightest, golden glow.

“Well, I mean-” If this was a date, then so had been the one after the show, back in October. Which meant this was your second date, and you’d technically been ‘dating’ this whole time, which kinda made him your- boyfriend?

“Is it?” Anakin slipped his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“This is better than any dinner and movie we could’ve gone to, I think.” He turned over your hand, tracing his first finger over the skyline tattoo that bisected your forearm. “Especially since it seems like this means a lot to you.” You couldn’t believe he’d noticed that tattoo- it meant he really was paying attention to you.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, lifting your arm up, his hand still held in yours, aligning the tattoo with the skyline you were looking at. “I got this done after we did our first video.” Silently, he examined the ink and compared it to the sky, seeing what you meant.

“That’s really cool,” he said, bringing your hand back down, since his fingers were getting cold in the wind, and he had to assume yours were too.

“How long are you going to be in town?” You asked, resting your temple down onto his shoulder again.

“A week, or so. Watto says he needs me to work on a mustang that we’re getting- I think Cliegg told him to say that since he doesn’t want me in the city.”

“Well, I don’t want to undermine your dad,” you said, “But I wouldn’t complain if you stayed here a lot longer than that.” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “It’s really nice to actually have you with me, and not over the phone.” Anakin turned to kiss the top of your head.

“Tell me about it. It’s worse for me, I promise- I listen to your music all the time, and it just makes me want to see you.”

“Sometimes I forget that you were once just a fan,” you said with a laugh, “listening to our music.”

“The luckiest one in the world,” Anakin added, and you almost wondered how you’d ever lived without him.

You let a moment pass, in silence.

“I’m twenty five,” you started, wondering if you had the courage to finish, “do you think I’m too young to be in love?” Anakin didn’t respond, at first. He turned to you, lifting his furthest hand to your face, making you look up at him. You could never get over those blue eyes- you’d forgotten how intense they were.

“I guess it depends on the guy,” Anakin said, his teeth quickly catching his lower lip. “Do you think you are?” You reached up past his arm to his face, your first finger tracing his eyebrow before your palm came to rest on the ridge of his cheekbone.

“No,” you said, and you rushed forward to meet his lips.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #imagines #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #punk!anakin #singer!reader #modern au #musician au #star wars #fics

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candidateofloyalty · 4 years ago

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It’s Secret Samol time, which means I’m thinking about how much I like random minor characters. Specifically, have more opinions about the Beloved Nights than you ever wanted. (image description under the cut)

[image id: a series of tweets and twitter threads from truthfulbell. their display name is “Pleroma’s most annoying Excerpt”

tweet 1: “I don’t know where the idea that Sokrates’ ship was called the Calliope came from but I like to think it’s also an in-universe misconception and where Massalia got the idea for the Melodica’s name“

tweet 2: “Barricade is the kid you assume is shy because they’re quiet but actually they love inciting chaos Compulsion is the kid who’s quiet and kind of mean but when you sit next to them they spend the lecture making killer jokes under their breath that ensure you remember the material”

thread 3: “I can’t blame ...Blooming... for that ridiculously edgy letter she sent ...Signet... given everything that was going on in her life but I do hope she maintained that method of communication in the new Divine Fleet”

“Silver: I’m going to the store, you need anything? Blooming: After spending so long as the single pillar of the community, keeping everything running no matter the cost to myself, I am no longer capable of recognizing my own needs Silver: Literally all you had to say was no”

tweet 4: “Sure, when ...Silver... builds a sentient mech that can single-handedly stand up to the Rapid Evening, no one cares, but Grand Mag throws a brick in a washing machine and everyone calls it a Divine. I see how it is”

tweet 5: “Melodica “there is no foe we cannot defeat” and Barricade “Wall” really are just the unstoppable force and the immovable object made to be roommates”

tweet 6: “Massalia, building Melodica: I should make sure they can speak for me when I can’t/don’t want to

Melodica, powered up for the first time: <the entire lyrics of Caramelldansen>

Massalia: ...that’s probably fine”

thread 7: “Massalia lets Melodica speak for them... Barricade lets Polyphony speak for them... Interesting”

“Some new citizen of the Waking Cadent hears about the stern ...Silver... and their imposing Divine Barricade and then when they finally meet them they hear Melodica’s cheerfully amoral voice saying everything is under control and they probably won’t have to explode anyone“

tweet 8: “How long do you think ...Blooming... spent with the Assemblage going “there is no way I can change my name after hundreds of years without confusing myself but I have to show that I’m edgy and hardcore somehow”“

thread 9: “Excerpts are innately dramatic but Blooming’s drama is self-serious and Silver’s is more emotive so their dynamic is Silver with their head on a table complaining about how they didn’t do well in training and they’re slipping while Blooming eats french fries and calls them a baby”

“Conversely Blooming seethes after the Cadent shoots down one of her suggestions and Silver goes “that’s nice but can you burn with righteous fury somewhere more fun, this is getting old””

thread 10: “...Silver... sends ...Blooming... a note that says “get out of my fleet” but Barricade intercepts it and Melodica substitutes one that reads “your hair is pretty :)””

“..Blooming... starts teasing ...Silver... about their mech’s crush on her after that. ...Silver... is dying“

#friends at the table #twilight mirage #counter/weight #this is deeply self indulgent but who cares #my motto is live like you're a stuck up fish person

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copias-thrall · 5 years ago

Text

This is Halloween (Halloween)

Mary expands Suey's world by taking her to a crazy art party.

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9)

It’s one of the stretches where you actually haven’t seen Mary in a few days. He’d apparently been by your apartment—dishes were done and he took out your trash—but you’d spent that day hunkered down at a coffee shop so you could have sandwiches with a friend who got a job downtown. And while Mary can be lyrical when he wants to be, his texts are usually brief and full of letters that only make sense to him in his shorthand … so you’re not ever going to get any missives from the front lines from him.

Which is fine: you’re super-busy and full of your own hobbies. Like napping. And complaining. Occasionally you’ll round that out with chip-eating. You’ve never been particularly creative—which makes Mary wince at you every now and then (you love art, you’re just not … adept, and sometimes it seems unfair that he can write music AND lyrics AND doodle great sketches)—but you are a voracious reader. You’d been shocked to find out that not only had Mary read Austen, but he also had a love of Persuasion—a novel you yourself found superior to Pride & Prejudice. He’d been similarly chuffed when he’d realized you liked Chuck Palahniuk for more than just Fight Club.

Which is all to say that when Mary’s not around, you like to combine your hobbies—a little chip eating while you read, only to fall asleep with the book on your face.

Tonight is no exception.

It’s nearly Halloween (it’s tomorrow actually, and you’re only slightly bummed that Mary has to work), so in honor of the holiday you’re working your way through an anthology of Lovecraft. Unexpectedly, there's a knock at your door. You check your phone, but there are no texts.

Hmm.

There’s another knock, so you set down the book and sprint to your bedroom to take up what Mary has dubbed your “Masher Hammer.” You make it back to your apartment door just in time for a third series of knocks. When you look out the peephole, however, it’s clear that whoever’s on the other side is blocking the viewer.

Gripping your hammer tight—ready for swing mode—you unlatch your door and open it.

You’re met with the sight of a Jack O’Lantern.

No—

Not a Jack O’Lantern … some guy with a carved pumpkin on his head.

“Ta-d—Jesus Christ, Suey … put Masher down,” says a muffled voice.

“Mary?”

Mary lifts the pumpkin—a real pumpkin, not a plastic basket from the dollar store—a little off his head enough for you to make out his face. You lower your swinging arm.

“Why is there a pumpkin on your head? What are you doing here?”

He spreads his arms out and does jazz hands. “Mischief Night!”

When you just stand there squinting at him, he finally takes the pumpkin fully off his head. His hair is squashed, and he’s only wearing some light makeup around his eyes and on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me in, or … should I duck?”

“Oh, right,” you say as you step back.

As Mary suanters in, you can see his eyes sweep to the couch where you’ve made a nest of blankets and pillows—your book lying face down, and the open bag chips positioned at an optimal angle on the coffee table.

“That looks nice.” He sidles up to you to squeeze your tits through your hoodie. “Almost makes me want to call it a night and get cozy in those blankets … I could crush those chips and lick them off you before I eat you out.”

His hand slides down to your crotch.

You’re trying to take him seriously, but he’s holding a pumpkin under his arm. You snap at his face.

“Mary—focus. What the hell?”

He gives you a put out look, exaggeratedly pushing out his bottom lip—but it’s soon replaced with a wicked grin.

“Mischief Night! Do you wanna go to a weird-ass art party?”

“An art party?” you ask dubiously.

“No, not what you’re thinking.”

He sets down the carved pumpkin on your table and walks to your fridge, rummaging around before pulling out the pisswater beer he keeps around.

“Think of it as a teen-movie house party—but on steroids and no one there got laid in high school. With, you know: art.”

“That’s … very specific.”

He walks back over to you, cradling the beer in one hand, and puts the other on your shoulder.

“We are under no obligation to participate in the orgy.”

You don’t think he’s joking.

He gives you a once over. “It’s also a—hmm—masquerade, so we gotta get you outfitted.”

Your mind darts.

“I only have those stupid headband cat ears my friend got me as a joke.”

He gives you a vulpine smile. “You’re gonna go as me.”

It had been a fun little party of two as you’d put on a YouTube Halloween playlist from your phone. Mary’d given you a dramatic mohawk with his precious airplane glue, then fished around in the pink makeup bag with hearts (that you’d put his stash in as a joke and he’d kept) to give you his iconic look—blood and all.

There was no way you were going to fit in his skinny jeans, but you’d been able to pair one of his well-worn tees (that you hadn’t already stolen) with your favorite denim skirt. Mary had taken off one of his studded belts to wrap around you—it’d needed a couple of safety pins to act as extensions, but Mary had assured you that that just made the style more authentic. Upon Mary’s request, you’d put on your ripped fishnets, and you had your own worn Docs to complete the look.

“Do I get to be a sex-crazed jerk all night?” you’d asked as you’d admired yourself in the corroded full-length you had propped up by the bathroom.

“You say that as if that’s something new and different for you—fuck ow,” said Mary as you’d tapped his balls.

“So where is this place?” you ask as Mary and you head to the train.

It’s in the old factory district, which means it’s a ways away, but still subway accessible.

“It’s actually in a converted co-op. I think they started out as squatters—unclear—but now it’s above board as a residence and shit. I used to know a guy who lived there for a while—they had sectioned off areas with screens—and he had a corner so he slept in a hammock. Most of the space is for their art, though. What a fucking life to live.”

You look at him, incredulous. “Mare. You live in a 2 bedroom with 4 other dudes.”

He scoffs at you. “We also have a couch. It’s a whole ‘nother level.”

You just hum at him.

When you finally get there—after a few mis-turns in this silent neighborhood full of abandoned brick factories—you’re surprised (despite Mary’s description) to see that the place is lit. There’s a guy standing at the entrance to the parking lot (that slopes dangerously toward the river) checking attendees; it becomes clear that not only is he checking for 21+, but for alcohol and toilet paper. Those without either have to “donate” $10.

“Oh—” says Mary right before it’s about to be your turn. “I’m not Mary tonight.”

“What should I call, then? The ‘Great Pumpkin’?”

“Just not Mary,” he hisses as you shore up to the “bouncer.”

The guy is not in any kind of costume—just grey sweats and a sports team hat. He’s sitting on a bar stool, and he has a little flashlight he’s using to check IDs.

“Hey, guys!” he says cheerily. “Welcome to Magical Mischief Mystery at the Factory. IDs? Ah! TP and suds? Cool, cool.”

He checks your IDs, then looks at you, then your IDs … then at Mary’s pumpkin face, then at you.

“OH MY GOD,” he starts chortling and slips off the stool to grab Mary’s arm. “Mary, you old bastard—I haven’t seen you since Dusty left to get hitched.”

You take a deep breath and—in your best screamo voice—you say, “I’m fucking Mary Goore,” (not a lie) “and he’s ‘Late for Dinner’.”

The pumpkin head turns to you. You can feel Mary’s unamused gaze.

The bouncer starts wheezing so hard that you’re afraid he might expire from laughing.

“Fuck, fuck,” gasps the dude. He shakes his head, eyes watery from mirth, and waves the two of you through.

“I hate you,” says Mary.

“I didn’t call you ‘Mary’, though,” you quip as you slip your arm through his.

“Why do I have to carry all the shit? Here. Pull your fucking weight.”

Mary hands you the toilet paper roll he heisted from your bathroom.

“Are we going to TP something?” you ask as you take the roll from him.

“Heh. No, it’s purely functional. This many people? It’s so the bathrooms don’t run out.”

The two of you enter with another mass of people, traveling through the miasma of secondhand smoke from the smokers. You cough, but Mary inhales deep, sighing. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you gape as you look around.

You and Mary stand on an open floor—which is what 5 or so floors look out onto all the way up. The place is crowded, but not jam packed. There’s a makeshift kitchen area where a dude in a bare chest and suspenders is accepting the toilet paper and libations. Above him is a white sheet that’s stretched out, on which an Art Film is being projected. The film has no sound because in the far corner there’s a DJ spinning, and a group of people are “dancing” to his jams. Mary was right: it’s like some kind of frat party for the artsy set. Because of the theme, most everyone is in a mask of some sort, and people—or groups of people—are making out in corners in various states of undress.

Mary grabs two beers, then leads you to a staircase—there’s a freight elevator by it, but it’s got cheesy Halloween “do not enter” tape blocking it.

“The first year too many people loaded into it, and it dropped 3 floors before the emergency brakes kicked in,” says Mary as he notices where you’re looking.

In a loft on the second floor you and Mary watch a woman—nude and covered in white paint—become the canvas to her girlfriend’s landscape painting.

In what’s clearly a shared bedroom, you and Mary peruse some really great paintings and sketches from what must be a number of the co-op residents.

“You should have told me to bring cash,” you say.

“We can always come back. I know a guy.”

You imagine Mary’s probably winking at you.

On the third floor there’s an inexplicable open-air kitchen attached to a bathroom. In it there’s a dude doling out beer from a keg.

“What’s this,” Mary asks him.

“It’s my homemade IPA, dude! Pumpkin for the season!”

He hands Mary a business card.

“We have a small space in the boonies, but we’re trying to get a brewery up and running in the city. Red tape though, man.”

“I fucking hear that.” Mary takes a sip. “Good shit, dude.”

The guy high-fives Mary.

“One for your girl?”

Mary hands you the solo cup, and you take a sip. You were expecting something grassy and hoppy—but the pumpkin actually balances it out nicely without it itself being cloyingly sweet. When you nod, Mary just lets you have his and indicates to the brewer to pump another cup.

The two of you enter what you think might usually be a studio space, but instead there’s a burlesque performance going on. There are some people making out, but Mary and you watch, rapt, praising the skill of the performers to each other.

The fourth floor has the least amount of people. Someone is doing a reading in one corner, and across the way there’s some sort of performance art going on. A woman stands in a white shift and gauze. Every time a dude who looks like a Nazgul rings a bell, she contorts herself to a different pose with a dancer’s ease.

You roll your eyes, but Mary begs your patience—watching solemnly as she continues.

“What is it?” you ask when the set is clearly over.

“Did you not feel it?”

“Uh …”

Even through the pumpkin you can feel his eyes on you.

“She’s a dancing monkey. Bound and constrained, only ever allowed to perform at the whim of her faceless master.”

“Mary …”

“No—don’t scoff. That was meant for you. It’s an allegory for the patriarchy, and I for one found it quite moving.”

You guess you can see it now that Mary’s pointed it out to you. He takes off the pumpkin, and you hold it while he goes over to talk to the woman. You shift uncomfortably as they engage, and she grabs his hands, shaking them profusely. Mary suddenly points over at you, and the woman waves and motions you over.

“Oh my god, look at you!” she squeals. She turns back to Mary. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it—she looks just like you.”

“I liked your patriarchal allegory,” you say.

Mary twists his mouth at you, but the woman just presses her hands to her chest.

“Thank you so much. I’m testing it out here as a protest piece. A bunch of us are going to travel to different cities and perform outside of big corporations.” She grabs Mary’s wrist. “Your boyfriend is wonderful. His song about—”

“—my band’s song—”

“—the nature of performative gender roles is one of my favs.”

You have no idea which song she’s talking about, but Mary looks pleased. So you’re pleased. You wrap your arm around his waist.

“He is pretty great.”

She lifts her veil to chug the glass of water Nazgul hands her.

“It was so nice to meet you person to person, Mary. I’m going to find the ladies before my next performance.”

“Love your work, Lizzy. I’ll put you on the list for our shows. Show up anytime!”

She bows and shuffles backwards as Mary leads you away.

“You have no idea what song she’s talking about do you?”

“I—” you sputter. “Uh. Dead Things?”

Mary looks at you indulgently.

“I’ll let you think about it.”

It turns out that the 5th floor is off limits to party goers, so Mary—back in his Jack O’Lantern—and you wander down to ground level to acquire more beer and to join the crowd of dancers. At some point the two of you take a break to pee, then hydrate as you add your own dialogue to the film on loop above you.

Back on the dance floor, there’s some skanking, some goth writhing, and some line dancing as the DJ spins his own set and sprinkles in some crowd requests. At this point in the night, most of the attendees have already made passes through the upper floors and are now all on the dance floor. Mary does some goth stomping (his pumpkin abandoned and now being passed around), and you do a silly skank until you slip on a slick spot and fall on your ass. After that, Mary pulls you close and grinds against you, his thigh between yours, both of you buzzed from multiple trips to the bar.

“Do you wanna find a corner?” he whispers into your ear.

In any other situation you’d probably say no … but—for all the crowd is packed—this is clearly a private party, one whose hosts don’t frown upon a little bit of lechery. You guess he wasn’t kidding about the orgy, after all.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

It takes a little investigation, but Mary and you find a room that seems to have been either designated or usurped as the makeout room. There’s a writhing mass in one corner, and the bed is covered in rolling bodies. There’re some breathy invitations—and a hand or two lightly caresses your calf as you walk by—but no one insists on participation further than that.

Mary yanks a pillow from the bed and tosses it to the floor. He pulls you down so that you’re both on your knees, his mouth capturing yours and his hands alighting everywhere. A hand of his sneaks down your skirt, and yours slithers down his jeans—the roving fingers of you each more a prelude than anything, stoking you both up to what’s next.

“Can I fuck you?” huffs Mary.

“Kinda drunk,” you say.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—just not gonna be very useful,” you giggle.

Because you wore the fishnets you’re not wearing underwear, so all Mary has to do is rip a hole in the crotch area—they’re not even good fishnets, so it’s not like there’s a liner to contend with. He grunts at your wetness.

“You sure?”

“Fuck me, Mary.”

He fumbles with his dick, finally managing to sink it into you. It’s a very awkward fuck—you’re lolling all about the place, and Mary isn’t being particularly steady.

At one point a light turns on only for a Sorry! to squeal out as it turns off again.

You try to swallow your laugh, but your jiggling belly can’t hide your reaction, and soon Mary is laughing too.

“Fuck … shut up … fuck,” he giggles. “I’m trying to get off here.”

You’re just catapulted into further fits, and before long Mary’s soft cock is slipping out of you as he joins you in snickering.

“Crap. I might be too drunk for this too.”

The two of you lay like that for a bit, a feedback loop of laughter, until your belly muscles ache.

“Fuck. Take me home, Suey.”

“Yeah, ok,” you say.

After some readjusting, you both stumble out of the room. The crowd has thinned, but that’s not to say the dance party isn’t still going strong.

“We should get a cab,” you say.

“Cash?” Mary asks as you guys shuffle out of the building.

“App,” you say as you hold up your phone to poke at your cab app. “My card s’on file.”

“Fancy.”

“S’for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “Like staying too late at a factory party.”

There’s a comedy of errors when the cab can’t find you and cancels, and you have to rebook—only to have the same cab automatically cancel your order again. Mary calls the number for dispatch, and they direct you out to a main street. The cab that picks you up is the same cab that voided your reservation twice, and he yells at you for giving him the wrong address.

You let Mary argue with him (content to doze on his shoulder)—the conclusion seeming to be that while you put in the correct address, the app didn’t like it and spit out a close, but different, pickup address.

By the end of the trip, however, the cabbie and Mary seem to be old friends. He lingers even after the driver validates your card, talking with the guy about where he’s from, until you tug on his arm.

“Sleepy,” you grumble into him.

The cab driver laughs.

“We are beholden to our women, yes?”

“Happily,” says Mary as he wraps an arm around you.

“Have a good night,” says the cabbie, and Mary just raps on the car, waving as it pulls away.

“What a cool dude,” he says as the two of you shuffle toward your building.

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“Jesus, you’re useless when you’re drunk.”

There’s a lot of fumbling and stumbling, but you both finally make it into your apartment. Somehow Mary gets you into the shower, which you don’t even realize until it turns on, and you shriek when the cold water smacks you in the face before it has the chance to warm up.

“Why am I still in my clothes?!” you whine.

Mary pokes his head in.

“You fucking serious? You almost bit off my fingers when I tried to undress you!”

“I’m more than just sex!” you yell.

“Just fucking wash your face.”

“Kay.”

You fall asleep sitting in the shower, waking only when the water turns cold. It seems to have had a sobering effect, because you definitely feel more clear headed than when you entered—it’s not as funny to be slightly sober and peeling off your cold, wet clothes. Usually you give your teeth the full experience, but tonight (this morning?), you just give them a quick brush.

For all he seemed soberer of you two, Mary doesn’t seem to have fared much better. He managed to get his shirt off, but he’s lying on your bedroom floor—curled in a ball—still in his unbuckled jeans. It would be amusing—and maybe after sleep it will be—if you weren’t so wrecked. It’s a struggle tugging off his jeans, and he semi-wakes halfway through and starts to shiver.

“Wha—?”

He looks at you blearily.

“Help me get your pants off, Mare bear.”

He blinks down at his legs, then sort of squirms his legs to help you wiggle him out of the black denim. Luckily—disorientated as he is—he’s able to assist you in getting him into your bed; he conks out again the minute you trundle him under the covers. The night outside is lightening, and you know there’s no way you can work tomorrow. Today.

Whatever.

You shuffle into your living room and start up your laptop, blinking rapidly as it boots up. When it finally loads, you send off a missive to your supervisor about potential food poisoning you’ve contracted, but how you’ll check your email later this afternoon. You preemptively down some ibuprofen and sneak some of Mary’s Pedialyte.

Mary seems dead to the world when you climb into your bed, but he’s rolling over and wrapped around you as soon as you’re settled, huffing into your neck.

“Took the morning off,” you mumble.

He hums.

You’re in a good doze when he speaks, jarring you back awake.

“Had fun?”

“Yeah, Mare. Now, shh.”

He mumbles something into your neck, but it’s too incoherent and you’re too knackered to decipher it. You just relax into his koala embrace and let sleep take you.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #gritty girls #gutter punk #my writing #original post #no smut #...kinda #original content

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bifuriouswaterbender · 7 years ago

Text

A Sense of Identity--Yukonic Fanfic

Read on AO3 here. This was inspired by the motto “If no one else will write fanfic for your ship, write it yourself.”

Fandom: Deadpool (2 technically)

Characters: Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Yukio, Colossus (briefly), Deadpool (mentioned)

Pairing: Negasonic/Yukio

Rating: G

Summary: Negasonic reflects on her own name as she deals with the gay panic of a teenager lesbian facing her first major crush.

She had never liked her name.

Ellie was so plain, so simple. It was a common name that had never really fit her. Now if her parents had been forward-thinking enough to name her Elliot, she may have felt differently. But Eleanor had never suited her, and Ellie barely worked. But it was the only name she had.

The first time she accidentally exploded into a ball of fire had been terrifying for everyone around her. For Ellie, it was a relief.

She loved her parents, but they’d never really understood what made her tick as a regular human. As a mutant? They were happy to send her off to a fancy school where she could harness her powers and maybe learn some manners.

She hadn’t exactly gained the manners, but Negasonic Teenage Warhead was a miracle of a name. When she was struggling to come up with something that felt like enough, one of the older kids had suggested listening to old songs. Some of the coolest names came from the lyrics. Taking their word for it, Ellie had flipped through old records, pausing when she saw a song title she liked. Negasonic Teenage Warhead had frozen her, an exciting sense of cold running down her center to cut the heat she always knew was there. It was over the top, strong, and just anarchistic enough to feel like an identifier. Once she listened to the record, she decided the song itself was fine. But the name couldn’t be beat.

Most of the other kids found her name to be too much of a mouthful, and she became Negasonic to most of them. Occasionally someone dug up the name Ellie Phimister. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but Negasonic did everything in her power not to answer to it and to get people to stop using it.

Most of the time it worked. Even when she wasn’t actively using her powers for anything, just channeling them was enough to intimidate most people. She infrequently got asked what she would do about her name once she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

She would shoot whoever asked a scorching look complete with one raised eyebrow and say, “The name is more than just Teenage. I think I’ve got other parts to keep.”

Secretly she liked the ring of Negasonic Warhead. It sounded even more badass in her mind than the full moniker, but twelve-year-old Ellie had been too excited by the idea of literally identifying as a teen. Until she turned nineteen, though, she could handle the middle, especially since no one ever used the full name anyway.

Except occasionally Wade, but he alternated that with so many insults and (often outdated) pop culture references that she didn’t really care.

“Negasonic,” Colossus called up the stairs. As usual, his voice carried without him actually raising his voice above typical speaking level. “Come down here. There is friend I want you to meet.”

Friend was not a typical word thrown her way. Negasonic knew Colossus had been trying to find her a nice friend ever since she’d buzzed her hair. It had been the same chin-length bob since before discovering her powers, and Negasonic had needed a change when she hit fifteen. She thought it made her look edgy. One of the more obnoxious preteens had said it made her look ready to beat someone up. She’d only somewhat threatened to beat him up for it.

Even now that she was letting it grow, Negasonic was more than happy to lean into that reputation whenever possible. She imagined this supposed friend would be easily intimidated with a scowl or two and that Negasonic could escape after a quick tour and a little awkward small talk.

She wasn’t expecting a perky pink-haired girl with gorgeous eyes to be waiting at Colossus’s side.

“Negasonic!” Colossus said enthusiastically, clamping a hand on her shoulder that was obviously oblivious to her gay panic. “This is Yukio. She will be joining X-Men.”

“Hello,” said the girl. She bounced forward--literally bounced--and stuck out her hand for Negasonic to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She reacted on autopilot and shook the girl’s hand, trying not to focus on its soft warmth. “You too,” Negasonic said. Was her voice faint? Damn it! She’d gone through all this work to build a reputation, and it was all about to be undone by a single pretty girl.

“Colossus said we might have a lot in common.” Yukio’s eyes actually sparkled as she looked up at the metal man.

Negasonic looked up too, mostly to determine if he was having heat stroke from baking in his metal body all day. Aside from an affinity for nontraditional aesthetics, Negasonic couldn’t imagine what she and Princess Bubblegum had in common.

God, she needed to spend less time around Wade.

“Indeed,” Colossus said, giving Negasonic a firm thump on the back that almost sent her flying. “You two are same age, both sassy, both independent. I expect the two of you to be fast friends.”

As two pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly, Negasonic felt a bit of sweat building at the back of her neck. But gay panic or no, she couldn’t afford to be weird. If she screwed up this girl’s first day, Colossus might not forgive her. Plus, bangs that perfect and that pink couldn’t belong to a straight girl, right?

“We’ll see,” she said, trying to remain neutral outwardly. “Would you like a tour, Yukio?”

As Yukio beamed at her, Colossus gave Negasonic another affirming pat on the back. This one did force her to stumble a bit because she’d been so focused on not letting herself be blinded by the literal sunshine on Yukio’s face.

“Wonderful!” Colossus moved a couple steps down the hall. “I have paperwork to do—finalizing Yukio’s transfer to the team and figuring out her class schedule. I think she would like some of the same classes as you, Negasonic. You two have fun!”

Negasonic watched him gently thunder down the hall, her panic slowly rising toward the surface as she was left alone with the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

There was a twinkle in Yukio’s eye that made Negasonic wonder if the girl was onto her. Before she could process that idea, Yukio took a few bouncing steps up the stairs.

“So where do we start?” she asked, offering Negasonic a knee-weakening grin.

Negasonic swallowed hard. Time to hit the reset on her feelings because she’d never be able to function if this kept up. Pretending to become her usual moody self, Negasonic jerked her head in the direction of the grounds.

“It might rain. We would probably check out the training areas first.”

The smile Yukio sent back at her was more reserved than the ones from earlier, and Negasonic tried to pretend the smaller smile gave her a smaller reaction. Being a girl had its advantages for hiding such things.

…

As Negasonic thought back on the last hour, she wasn’t quite sure how Yukio had ended up on her bed.

They’d barely made it inside as the rain started up outside. Yukio had scrambled back toward the door with such zeal that Negasonic hadn’t been able to help running alongside her. They’d stumbled back inside laughing loud enough to prompt Colossus to stick his head out of his office. When he’d seen who it was, he simply smiled and let them be.

The downstairs hadn’t taken very long since many of the spaces were ones that they weren’t supposed to go in or had classes in progress. Negasonic was technically missing Latin, but she both hated it and was pretty sure Colossus would vouch for her. He seemed to be in that kind of mood today.

Upstairs was mostly dorms, and when Negasonic had pointed out her own bed, Yukio had collapsed onto it dramatically.

“I hope we’re roommates,” she said with a kind of dreamy earnestness that smacked Negasonic on her ass.

She sat down at the end of her bed, trying not to think about the fact that she’d never had another girl on it before. She didn’t have any female friends who did things like sit on each other’s beds to gossip. The closest she’d come was an offer to visit someone else’s bed when she’d snuck out to a local gay bar. She suspect the other woman had also lied her way in with a fake ID, but even with that suspicion, Negasonic hadn’t been able to justify to herself sleeping with someone she didn’t know, especially if that person thought she was over eighteen and named Alex instead of Ellie.

“We probably will be.” Negasonic shrugged and tried to look like she didn’t care one way or another. “They try to room people age alike. Since most of the other girls are under fourteen or at least eighteen, we’re pretty secluded. There were two other girls in the middle bracket. Both roomed with her, but neither of them talked to her much.

“Lots of guys though,” she added as an afterthought. Without meaning to, Negasonic watched for Yukio’s reaction.

There wasn’t one. Instead she leaned forward and looked expectantly back at Negasonic. “You have a really cool name.”

She didn’t know how to handle that. “Um, that’s the idea,” she said, annoyed by how easy she had been to fluster. “What about you? Is Yukio based on something?” Negasonic didn’t really know anything about Japanese culture, so she hoped it wasn’t something obvious.

“No,” the pink-haired girl replied. “It’s actually my real name.”

Negasonic furrowed her brows together. “Do you not have a name yet?”

She hadn’t when she’d first arrived, but Negasonic had still been relatively young. And Ellie had shed her name as quickly as she could.

Yukio shook her head, ponytail whipping around her face as she did so. “No, and I don’t want one.”

“But you have to have one.”

Yukio smiled, like she knew something Negasonic didn’t. “Actually I don’t. We have them for safety, but it’s not like any of us do anything to protect our identities.”

That was true. Some superheroes were ridiculous about keeping their identities secret, and while Negasonic could understand that perspective, it wasn’t true for a lot of mutants. Often their powers outed them, like hers had. Regardless the big players had their strong we shouldn’t have to hide agenda that they frequently pushed. Many mutants who could have otherwise kept their powers a secret, as she could now that she had much better control of them, readily revealed their identities. Masks weren’t exactly big around here.

It was easy for her, though. She didn’t have a secret identity because Negasonic felt much more like a name than Ellie ever had.

“Still,” Negasonic said. She didn’t know what she was trying to argue, but an argument felt like it needed to be made.

“I’m okay only have one identity,” she insisted. “Besides, my family call me Yuki anyway. Yukio is starting over in a way.”

“A new identity isn’t the same as starting over.”

Yukio simply looked at her, the playful indulgence easy to read. “No? Then why did Colossus call you Negasonic? Why do we all call him Colossus? There may be mutants who go by both readily, but for most of us, the new one is the only thing that matters.”

Maybe that’s why she’d always called Deadpool Wade. As near as she could tell, his alias was purely for professional purposes and because he thought it sounded cool. But to everyone who actually knew him, he was Wade. But despite basically dying multiple times without actually dying, Wade wasn’t a Before and After. It was weird because he literally looked nothing like he had before. (She’d seen the pictures. He was tolerable if you were into clean cut white men, which Negasonic wasn’t.) His personality hadn’t shifted at all, and he’d really just used his After as an extension of the same kind of personality and shit he’d done before. He was just more deadly because he couldn’t die.

Yukio angled her head as she studied Negasonic. In turn, Negasonic wanted to crawl under the bed.

“What’s your birth name?”

Negasonic bit her lip. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? “I don’t actually like it,” she admitted, hoping that would be enough.

That unfortunately didn’t seem to satisfy Yukio’s curiosity. “What not?”

Shrugging in an I-don’t-care way, Negasonic stared down at her bedspread. “I guess it never really fit.”

Yukio didn’t respond. The silence filled the space between them before expanding into the room as a whole. It left Negasonic ready to suffocate, and she couldn’t stop herself from willingly sharing her name for the first since taking on her superhero identity.

“I’m Ellie.”

“That’s a nice name,” Yukio said, “but you’re right. It doesn’t really fit you.”

Negasonic swallowed, glancing back up at Yukio. The seriousness she found on the other girl’s face transfixed her. They stared not uncomfortably at each other for longer than Negasonic cared to admit.

“What about El?” Yukio asked suddenly.

“It’s a nice letter,” Negasonic responded, not understanding where she was going with this.

As Yukio shook her head again, Negasonic let her eyes track the pink swinging hair again.

“Not the letter L. El as a shorthand for your name. It suits you.”

Negasonic paused as she thought about it. It felt less childish than Ellie and less girly too. “I like it,” she said. Without meaning to, she added, “I like you.”

Instantly Negasonic froze, ready to bolt form her own room of embarrassment. Yukio, to her credit, just grinned with all that sunshine Negasonic had noticed earlier.

“I like you too.”

#deadpool #deadpool 2 #negasonic teenage warhead #yukio #yukonic #negasonic #fanfic #fanficiton #mine #my writing

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zoenightstars · 8 years ago

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THE PJO MUSICAL !!

i know u guys don’t know any of the songs so i’ll explain everything i mention under the cut!!!

Song I wish was longer: Luke’s Good Kid Reprise (listen i know it’s part of The Last Day of Summer but like. It should get to exist in its own right). but if we’re talking full songs, probably Strong. Song I wish was shorter: The Last Day of Summer (except Luke’s part)The one song I always skip: um there’s no soundtrack yet but i could probably go without Drive. or The Oracle. Song I sing the best: Good Kid is the only one I’ve tried but i sound p good i guess. I’ve also sung the only 3 words of Son of Poseidon that i know and they are right in my range god blessSong I still don’t know all the words to: fucking....all of them. i want to know the words to my grand plan thoSong that honestly deserves an award or five: my grand planSong that’s terrible but I still love: Lost! (it’s not bad at all it’s just a little cheesy haha. honestly one of my favorite songs) Song that’s really good but I hate: i loved them all! Song I think could change the world: good kidSong I wish I’d written: the tree on the hill

Also shoutout to other songs that were great but i didn’t mention: DOA, The Campfire Song, and Another Terrible Day!

send me a musical!

I’m going to write the songs in order (with their number) of the ones i’ve mentioned. There are spoilers.

The Last Day of Summer: song #19 out of 20. It’s the song where percy’s trying to decide whether or not he stays at camp year-round. Luke’s good kid reprise happens here, percy gets stabbed and he and annabeth almost kiss. The melody of the main song is forgettable but the good kid reprise was one of the best moments of the show. the audience was shook

Strong: song #2. sally singing about how strong and special percy is!!!!! it’s glorious and sally is so wonderful and carrie compere’s voice is beautiful. she sings about how like blue food, what makes percy strange is what makes him special. it’s such a sweet moment between the two of them.

Drive: song #14. it has kind of a country-ish melody which i wasn’t huge on? but it was p good lyrically. it was basically about them getting to LA. there were some good moments in it though! like they were gonna stay in the lotus casino, and percy’s like”ma’am? how long have you been here?” “i got here just yesterday! may first, 1939!” “WE’LL SLEEP ON THE ROAD.” It was mostly a filler song to move the plot but it was still good!

The Oracle: song #8. just a very dramatic singing of the prophecy ft. carrie compere wearing bedsheets and toilet paper with kristin, sarah beth, and i think george? under the sheet (because it was long as fuck) singing dramatic harmonies.

Good Kid: song #9. y’all know

Son of Poseidon: song #18. percy defeats ares with a shitload of water (which is just toilet paper rolls on leafblowers and blue overhead lights, god bless). he sings the song while fighting ares and how he’s powerful and proud to be poseidon’s son. it’s epic.

My Grand Plan: song #13. annabeth’s big solo song. it’s incredibly rangey and kristin sings it beautifully. it’s about how annabeth’s grand plan is to accomplish something awesome, be noticed by athena, and be remembered. she also calls out sexism in the song and sounds 100% ready to kick ass. i was rooting for her.

Lost!: song #12. the bus they’re on explodes, so they sing an entire song about how they’re “lost in a forest in the middle of new jersey and we’re never ever ever gonna leave”. they have special contempt for new jersey. There’s a line about how they refuse to die in the garden state. it’s high quality.

The Tree on the Hill: song #16. grover’s big solo song. it tells the story of thalia and how grover feels like a failure because he couldn’t save her. george cried. they did a silent reenactment of thalia’s death on the upper scaffolding with green lights and they highlighted certain sections with yellow scaffolding lights when they wanted to focus on it, which was super cool. The way they made her a tree was basically sarah beth looking dramatically out onto the audience with kristin and james’ arms making branches behind her. it was absolutely stunning, and george sounded fantastic. i loved the lyrics so much.

DOA: song #17. carrie compere kickin ass in a gold sequined dress. she’s playing charon or something. “i have a band. do you want to hear my demo?” “not really?” “sorry, i couldnt hear you over this SWEET ASS RIFF” and she launches into an awesome rock song about how you’re dead on arrival in the underworld and she does some serious belting and hits some high ass notes. it’s so good oh my god. also, “we got everybody here. beethoven, kurt cobain, you name it! any requests?” “do you have josh groban?” “we will.”

The Campfire Song: song #7. all the chb kids (grover, silena, katie, percy, luke, and annabeth) are shit-talking their parents. “Oh things couldn’t be worse when your parents run the universe” is the chorus, which is cute and folksy af. grover cries about pan. luke says “i met the guy once, which was more than enough.” annabeth takes a shit on her dad + stepmom’s lives. silena’s like “she steals my mascara and all my dates!” about aphrodite. katie says “for my friends 16th birthdays they all got cars. I got a fern and some mason jars!” then percy’s turn happens and he’s just like, very quietly, “my mom loved hugs and scary movies” and katie just yells “I DONT THINK HE’S DOING THIS RIGHT” then percy goes off on his then unknown dad “i have a few choice words id like to throw in his face!” get him boi

Another Terrible Day: song #4. basically dionysus bitching about how he can’t drink and how he hates children. He kicks his folding chair across the stage multipe times, much to sarah beth’s character at the time’s chagrin. it’s just really funny and george does a really good job of it.

obviously there are a lot more songs but those were just the highlights!

#pjo musical #the lightning thief musical #u guys can def rb this if u want!!!!!#broadway #sunlitshowers #asks

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bucketofkay · 8 years ago

Text

Music Asks

Requested by @theshippingdocks

~playlist~

1. a song from the year you were born

ugh i hate this prompt there are like no genuinely good songs from 2000

All The Small Things - Blink 182

(i looked up the top 100 songs of the year and the only two songs id heard of and didnt hate were this and bye bye bye)

2. a song that reminds you of school

Proud - Heather Small

bc its used in every motivational assembly and end of year video

3. a song tied to a specific moment in your life

Guren no Yumiya - Linked Horizon

we do not speak of these dark times

4. a song that is not sung in your native language

Von - Yoko Kanno ft Arnor Dan

icelandic! a language i dont think ive ever used for a music asks playlist (in fact this whole list is turning out really different to usual. ill see if i can keep that up.......)

5. a song over 5 minutes long

most of the music i listen to is over 5 minutes......

I left you ~ Not sure if I did - Reimi Horikawa

its one of those really slow but beautiful OSTs that i just love

6. a song under 2 minutes long

Bim Bim Bim - Jay Foreman

there was no limit on what the song was.....

(but its gr8)

7. an instrumental

oh no.... what will i do...... how do i possibly find an instrumental track i enjoy.....

Stories Not Forgotten - Windsor Airlift

8. a classical piece

Fur Elise - Beethoven

i just kinda like it?? idk im not rly into classical

i prefer modern orchestral stuff

9. a song with no percussion

Inevitabalis - Yuki Kajiura

i LOVE pure piano songs

theyre so emotional

10. something you’ve heard performed live

Time is Running Out - Muse

(this song is my most vivid memory from a concert)

11. something you’d give ANYTHING to hear performed live

Nothing Without You - Emma Blackery

(im sorry ill try and make this the last predictable answer, but no guarantees)

12. a song by an artist who’s from where you’re from (town/city/state/country)

Together in Electric Dreams - The Human League

god its been so long since ive listened to this song

(the human league are from south yorkshire)

13. a song made suddenly precious because of a special someone

Saviour of the Waking World - Toby Fox

(anything hs really)

14. a song made suddenly awful because of a special someone

there isnt one, so:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ shrug midi art - CrystalVisionOKC

15. something to BELT SHAMELESSLY/do DIVA HANDS to

this obviously screams musical, so:

Gone to Oregon - The Trail to Oregon

16. something to SCREAM ALONG to

Mr Brightside - The Killers

obvs

17. a song for raging

Don’t Stop - Black Lagoon

(like the whole ost tbh)

18. a song that demands lipsyncing into a makeshift microphone

We Built This City - Starship

it was suggested on electric dreams, and its perfect for this one

19. the last song you had stuck in your head

why is this even a question?? the only songs in my head now are songs from this list

Duder’s a Spy - Brian Holden and Michelle Chamuel

is the last i remember

20. a song you’re dying to master all the words to

another predictable one, but

Bravely You - Lia

i still cant get the fast bit quite right

21. a song that you could SLAY at karaoke

hey, an excuse to put another instrumental song in

Rely on Thermal Winds - Seas of Years

(im not gonna be slaying anything at karaoke any time soon)

22. a song you can’t help but dance to

Hold my Hand - Jess Glynne

the problem with learning dances to songs is that you lowkey never forget them

23. a song that makes you want to dance on a table

Defying Gravity - Wicked

i struggled w a non-predictable answer for this one, but just bc it needs to be performed dramatically from a height

24. a song that makes you wanna STRIP

Naked in a Lake - The Trail to Oregon

p self explanatory

25. a song with a great music video

ive said this before, but im not a music video person, so the next two are def gonna be predictable

Perfect - Emma Blackery

26. a song that makes you act out the music video when you hear it

uh, none

but the closest id say is

Lonely People - Orla Gartland

bc it just kinda makes me wanna go out and do something awesome

27. a song with counting

5 6 7 8 - Steps

i couldnt think of anything better, im sorry

28. a song with spelling

Revolting Children - Matilda

29. a song with lots of clapping

Faces Going Places - Dodie Clark and Lucy Moon

this is the only thing i could think of

30. a song 40 years older than you

back to googling to find a song i dont hate.....

Beyond The Sea - Bobby Darin

31. a song you wish your parents didn’t know the words to

All About the Bass - Meghan Trainor

(im sorry) my mum WONT STOP SINGING IT

32. a song whose lyrics shocked you once you were old enough to understand them

The Circle of Life - The Lion King

bc of how fuckin simple the lyrics actually are when you translate them

33. a song you have ZERO patience for

Blurred Lines - Robin Thicke

no. just no.

34. a song you’d like your favorite artist to cover

taking my favourite artist as emma blackery (rather than ZHIEND, as i like them for their original music)

and sorry for predictability again:

Not Over You - Tessa Violet

35. a great song you discovered thanks to a movie

Someday - Steve Earle

(i dont like the original but the bridge to terabithia version is p good)

36. a great song you discovered thanks to television

First Things First - Neon Trees

37. a song you’re ashamed to have in your music library

Dead Gorgeous Opening Theme

not really tbh, but i have to save something for 38 (why???)

38. ok what’s the song you were too ashamed to even post for #37

Mickey Mouse Club March

bc i have a disney compilation cd, and for some reason they decided to put this on instead of any songs from the lion king 2

39. the most played song in your music library

i have no idea overall, but on my phone probably

Clouded Sky - ZHIEND

especially since its my alarm......

40. favorite disney song

They Live in You - The Lion King

and thats it done!

i hope this is different enough to every other music ask game i do

~playlist~

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tinyolsen · 8 years ago

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Odds!

o 1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? Sort of level but if anything more milko 3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Post it notes, traintickets, bus tickets, anything tbho 5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Yes if my mouth is open/ showing some teeth cos idk it feels weird but to quote my mate I have ��a cheeky lil smile” so o 7: do you name your plants? I have a mini cactus called oucho (see ed and oucho from cbbc) o 9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Yes if no one is around, I was singing in the kitchen in my uni accom and the cleaner walked in, I nearly diedo 11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? Bert box, hughhhhhhhh and hades without any of the weird shito 13: what’s something that made you smile today? I went to a talk by sunny Jacobs and peter pringle and when they said we have 4 goats and live together, I beamed they are sooo cute (btw look them up their story is amazing)o 15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! Venus is 462 Co 17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I wont dye it but like dark blue/ black like gabriella in hsm 2o 19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I do I have three, one for cute memories, one for random facts and one that has doodles in it mainly of my dogo 21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. My fav bag is no bag ever, cos effort to carry but my mufc hold all, has been to football tournaments, dance shows, America and back and its now under my bed at uni with spare towels and tea towels ino 23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Play guitar, catch up on tv just chill, don’t think about work, go to the park and just sit and take pictures, dance in the kitchen (opps thing)o 25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? I have never broken in anywhere o 27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Cherry o 29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? one of them does a sideways smile when you say her nameo 31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I love patterned socks, football socks, trainer socks, slipper socks, but I have to wear just plain black trainer socks otherwise I think someone is judging me, but I really love my monkey and banana ones they are burgundy I also just got iron man, spiderman and captain America ones from my mateo 33: what’s your fave pastry? Puff, comes ready rolled, is vegan and I use it to make cheese straws for my flatmates (I have just been told that this means pastry thing, in which case cheese straws) o 35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? Yessssss! I just bought purple and blue highlighters cos I had to get rid of my old ones (long story) and they are awesomeo 37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? I like it lived in but not messy, and clean o 39: what color do you wear the most? blacko 41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, its just inspiredo 43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? Someone who I dated for a bit but id like to forget that plsssso 45: do you trust your instincts a lot? lol noo 47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Custard o 49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? Not really cos I often don’t like full albums, unless its Rumors – Fleetwood mac but I bought when you love someone (acoustic) – James TW on itunes if that countso 51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? My brother and little things cos we have a funny joke with it (funny to us)o 53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? yes, no, no , yes/ loved it, n/a, n/a, and loved it.o 55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? eaten a tub of ice cream to prove that I could bite ice cream for more than just one bite, I stared the girl in the face and bit every spoonfulo 57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? Awake, course, you are lying if you say you don’to 59: what’s your favorite myth? The Trojan horse was the first one I ever learnt in year four and it will always be my fave, but Icarus and Daedalus comes closeo 61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? This all happened this Christmas, I gave my dad a mug saying “im retired (emphasis on the tired)” and my mum gave me bin bags (im an excellent gift giver just ask my family, I out do them all every year) o 63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? As long as the books are upright with small in the middle, large at each side idm, and my music is on specific playlists on my phone (i.e fast walking playlist, chill walk playlist)o 65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? Quite a few people from school, and the three awesome people who made my dance class epic (going to uni and leaving them sucks)o 67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? Awesome, if im okay anyway cos its so prettyo 69: what are your favorite board games? Monopoly cos I rule at it, block us and scrabble with my grandparents cos they like to use non English words/ made up oneso 71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? Good ol’ cuppa (Yorkshire tea bags) o 73: what are some of your worst habits? I isolate myself, blank out, cant react to other peoples emotions and I pop my shoulder in and outo 75: tell us about your pets! Omggg, Alfie the cute lil puppy is my bae, hes the light of my life, hes a cavalier king Charles spaniel and he’s the best boy, the only guy bar my lil brother I trust. And then my rabbit, leon the lion lop, died just before xmas, I miss the lil fluff but he was the cuddliest thingo 77: pink or yellow lemonade? After learning that this probably means American style lemonade, yellow. But uk style, lucazade pinks one is pengo 79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? My best mate gives my the best handmade cards all the time, that and a date gave my guitar picks with my name on onceo 81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. grey pebbles imagine if you put the clearest water blue stripped though out it or a grey and blue stepsil mushed together o 83: what’s some of your favorite album art? Idk tbh not gonna lieo 85: do you read comics? what are your faves? On and off, and probs the one amazing fantasy ive reado 87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Dead poets society, 50/50 and some others I cant think ofo 89: are you close to your parents? Ish, um naho 91: where do you plan on traveling this year? Back home and idk where else yeto 93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? Side parting and just brushed, nothing fancyo 95: what are your plans for this weekend? Do uni worko 97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? Infj, Aquarius and ive had Hufflepuff, ravenclaw and Gryffindor in recent weekso 99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Scars to your beautiful, facing west cover and halo- lewis Watson

thank you :)

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