soundslikeodd

[soundslikeodd]

My apologies for my absence! A lot has happened. To make it up to you, I’ve decided to give you ‘Walks Like Taylor Swift’, a mashup of many Taylor Swift songs and one The Wanted track for an instrumental - born out of a challenge to myself to see how many Taylor Swift songs I could fit comfortably onto a track that wasn’t originally by Taylor Swift. Believe it or not I was making this before Eras was announced, trying to describe exactly what my brain sounds like all the time :) Note that at the time this was made, we only had Red TV and Fearless TV, so some songs included here are still in their stolen versions. I will fix this when the newer versions become available, and maybe add more songs, so please treat this track like a concept demo for the entirely Taylor’s Version full version. Songlist below the cut!

Here’s the complete list of every song you’re hearing here, noted in order of appearance where possible (and apart from one, they’re all Taylor Swift): - Mine - Girl At Home (Taylor’s Version) - The Very First Night (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault) - Long Live - Message In A Bottle (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault) - Welcome To New York - You Belong With Me (Taylor’s Version) - New Romantics - 22 (Taylor’s Version) - Sparks Fly - Starlight (Taylor’s Version) - The Lucky One (Taylor’s Version) - Fearless (Taylor’s Version) - How You Get The Girl - Speak Now - Dorothea - Hey Stephen (Taylor’s Version) and of course, - Walks Like Rihanna, by The Wanted

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Perhaps it was an obsession. He’d had years to think about that idea, from his little cell. He loved just as deeply as the first day he’d laid eyes on his one and only. To some, perhaps it would be strange, maybe dangerous, maybe that was why he was stuck in a cell, after all. He didn’t think it was strange. Lighting every other house on fire had been worth it for the way his beautiful creation glimmered with the reflection of the flames. (I’m sorry about the vocal mixing on this one! There was no acapella so I had to try and extract those vocals myself :) )

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She swore to support him. It was the right thing to do, especially when he was so fragile. He was cold, like ice, but she couldn’t really blame him for that - he was going through a lot, and she was a little further down his priority list. She’d be back on top eventually, but it would be cruel to put more pressure on him right now. She trusted him, after all. No matter how sad it made her in the meantime. She trusted him.

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How did she never see it? They’d known each other, committed to each other, for so long, and yet their arguments always went this way. She was ordinary. She was extraordinary. She was limited. She was fantastical. She was deserving of being put up on that pedestal, for being so wonderful. She was only human. They’d never agree, that much they could agree on.

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Sometimes loving yourself is the hardest part. She, however, found it quite easy, loving the version of herself that glittered and sparkled and promised beautiful, wonderful things, all tied up with golden string and ivy and love for it all. The shimmering her smiled at her in the mirror, even when she felt like a mess, comforting and warm in the cold of the weather. Loving the beautiful, sparkling herself was easy. The rest of her was the hard part, but she would do her best to love it just as much.

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It was in her very being to fall in love. She often found she had very little choice in the matter - no matter who the lucky love was. It made it harder when they turned out to not be all they seemed to be, but that was fine. They could wipe her off their hard drive as many times as they wanted. People would always find her. They’d download her anyway. There’d always be another Mr Perfectly Fine.

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A comic convention was the last thing she’d had in mind, honestly. Cold lighting, surrounded by people in outfits of every kind, merchandise everywhere she looked, and oh, she was suddenly concerned for the children that had attended - though these were childrens’ characters the situations they were in on the comic covers certainly weren’t for children. She’d been promised a date. Soft candlelight, mood music, privacy, that’s what she’d had in mind. Her date’s mouth ran a mile a minute, excitedly explaining some lore she had very little idea about. It was...endearing. He was lucky he was cute.

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This wasn’t the end. She was quite sure about that. She knew so much about him, after all, and he in return. He knew too much about her, and all the seeds were planted. All those times she’d ‘just bumped into him’, all the ‘oh, that’s my favourite too!’, carefully schemed to look like destiny. What was destiny to a driven woman? He could run forever, she even encouraged it - she’d never be far behind, and he would always, always come back to her. She was his favourite.

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She’d searched far and wide for it, that magical something-or-other that would forever put her life back on track, and she’d find her place in the world again. She’d been so terribly lost lately, and nothing at all could be done about her relationship failing before her eyes. He called her crazy, but she already knew that. She’d tried everything to fix it. All the fads, all the trends, none could bring her the happiness she sought. It was only when she truly embraced her madness that she knew she’d finally found herself. At last.

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Now, admittedly, it wasn’t the done thing to smile after such a horrendous event. Much less one she also caused. In this moment, though, in the privacy of her own home, she couldn’t help a grin. She had become who she’d needed to be, at long last. It was freeing. She could do anything she wanted, and it felt like the chains holding her back had snapped right off. She felt like herself again. She hoped nobody would find the body.

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She’d always got what she wanted before. There was no reason this shouldn’t be the same. This week, she’d decided she wanted a radio show. Perhaps she’d give advice on how to be as amazing as she was, or perhaps just tell stories of her incredible life, and all the things she’d bought with all the money she had. This was quickly derailed on her first caller. The guy on the other end began rambling on and on about being ‘right’, and an ‘expert’, and aliens of all things, and not making it through the night if they didn’t hear him out, like someone was coming to get him.  Which was definitely a weird thing to talk about on a show like hers. He was clearly a fan of metaphor. ...At least she hoped it was metaphor.

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Her husband would be home soon. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but now the day had arrived she felt very little guilt. She supposed the preparation time had lessened those feelings as much as possible. Buying the ingredients had taken enough time, especially the little vial of red liquid that promised ever-after, after all. Finding out his schedule had taken even longer. It’d pay off. One bite of her new recipe would be all it’d take for him to stop fooling around with other women. They were fine, lovely even, but he needed to be shown exactly where his eyes should fall, and perhaps then she’d see him home before nightfall. He laid snoozing in his chair when she heard the timer. The muffins were ready. Her husband would be home soon.

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Perhaps the apocalypse had been a little overdone in the media. When it happened, people had expected the end of the whole world...that hadn’t happened. For the most part, actually, there were only a few changes. Changes in species, a few more societal issues down to new instincts or the breaking of knowledge itself, but overall life really was normal, at the heart of it all. The TV kept playing. The internet lived on. Work continued, and society didn’t collapse. The new song on the radio is very catchy all the same. You do worry about listening to it too much, though. You tend to space out a lot when you do. It’s probably nothing. It’s really foggy outside.

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It was crazy to change for just one person. She knew that, of course, how could she not? She did it anyway, changed and changed and changed until she wasn’t sure who she’d been to begin with. She’d done reckless things, silly things, nonsensical things that had no bearing on her romance, but in her head the connection was there, tied up in golden string. Nobody could blame her. It’s love, young love. She’d always known she was going to do whatever she had to do to keep him with her, forever. That’s love, after all. She loved, she lost, and now she’s going to get her love back. If it kills her. If it kills him.

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It feels like falling in love, he realizes, as his chest thuds uncomfortably to the beat of the drums through too-loud speakers. He was sure he’d done this before, but now, armed with just his guitar and the manager backstage who’d told him to go ahead with a too-wide grin, he’s never felt more absolutely terrified. The lights behind him strobe to the beat. He can’t see the crowd. His crowd. They’re here to see him. He knows he owes them a show. He knows they practiced this for all of them. They’re cheering his name. The confetti cannons are spitting glitter that will never wash out of his clothes or his hair or his skin, he’s sure of it. A glance back. His manager shoots him a thumbs up. He feels himself smile in return. Of course. Why would he be scared? This is his crowd, his drums, his manager, his song, his show. It feels like falling in love.

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It was reasonable to be worried for his daughter. She’d had her share of bad people, and so of course he’d become a little overprotective. Who wouldn’t be? She brought her new crush to meet him, and naturally, he hadn’t liked the boy too much. He wore his hat the wrong way, he wouldn’t take his hand out of his pocket, and he always seemed to have a smirk on his face - how disrespectful! It was clear he’d have to teach this punk proper values before he’d allow him to date his daughter. He was a father, after all.

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The synths grate in his ears through his headphones. He knows he has to practice, he knows they've got an award ceremony coming up, and he knows he can't disappoint his manager, the one who was with him when he woke up, who grinned at him like he was a star.

Part of him feels like this isn't what he wanted to be doing right now. He doesn't know what else he'd be doing, though. Being a performer is all he's ever known, and he's in the middle of rebranding, anyway. It'd be silly to quit now, his tour isn't even over yet. Everyone's going to see him. His manager says that's good, that he's gorgeous and he should be seen. He sounds almost proud about that, which is weird, because he's pretty sure his good looks are natural, albeit the surgery after his...wait, what surgery? The synths fade out. His feet hit the ground with purpose. He's mastered the dance. His manager's going to be thrilled. He hopes he's going to make him do that stupid grin again. He knows the award will help with that. …He doesn't know what they did to deserve this award in the first place.