#writing songs and doing music

[brewerssupplies]

Man. I have the want to do so many different projects and pursue so many different art forms. I want to do it all at once and since I can't, I don't do any of it.

[beneathsilverstars]

been thinking about the differences between SASASAP and ISAT lately. because looking just at ISAT and the two hats ending, you'd think loop went through the exact same house as our siffrin, but looking at SASASAP, it's different. it's mixed up. it's obviously a condensed prototype.

but. that doesn't have to mean it's a different universe entirely.

maybe that's just what happens after a thousand loops.

the house warped in act 5. siffrin lost their shit and the house got changed and corrupted, far past its baseline king uncanniness. so it wouldn't be too out-of-the-question for it to be able to warp in more subtle ways as well, due to a more subtle breakdown.

like a jpeg uploaded and downloaded a thousand times, siffrin changed, and the loops changed. over a thousand loops of efficiency, the house got more efficient. rooms combining. items moving. data compressing. and of course, run in a changed house, the script changed as well. it did so slowly, one bit at a time, over a thousand loops of zoned-out half-listening – and by the time siffrin would have noticed each difference, they were already used to it. (and in the moments that they did look at a room that was less familiar than it should be and realize that they had no idea where to find the key, well. that's just classic siffrin, isn't it.)

through sheer repetition, siffrin was corrupted, and the loops and the house along with them. all purpose lost, all signals distorted, until finally they couldn't recognize the meaning in any of it. it was all noise and despair.

so they made a wish. and the loop restarted. not just a reboot, but something more complete.

the data was backed up onto a star – a guide, a warning, a reference – and the loops were factory reset. and for the first time in a thousand loops, siffrin woke up to a clear mind and the crisp sound of birdsong.

[littleplantfreak]

'When', not 'if'

("I'm not a romantic" I cry and scream before dropping the most sickening thing i've written to date. Blame @stunie because i did tell her i would write the most ume thing ever and maybe this is it. The title in my docs for it is 'Fucking disgusting' but i figured i better not title it that here because I'd be seeing it in my notifs lmaoo)

SFW/no cw unless you hate fluff

When you wake up from your nap, one of your slippers is gone, and there's a blanket on you that wasn't there prior. Looking at the clock, it's been about an hour since everyone had left your apartment once your birthday party ended. The day as a whole had been chaotic, your boyfriend shoving you out the door with a note to go see Kotoha.

The note took you farther than that, though, as it seemed Umemiya created a whole scavenger hunt for your birthday that had you running into all of your friends, having dessert at your favorite cafe, and eventually ending up at your shared apartment to find that all that time spent around town was a distraction so that he could set up the space for your party. After it had ended, you were banished to the couch because princesses aren't allowed to help clean up their own birthday parties, which had you huffing and falling face down into the chicken shaped pillow affectionately called Mr.Clucky.

It was a product of your boyfriend's endless cycle of hobbies when he took up sewing. A little lopsided and overfilled with stuffing, you complained to and into Mr.Clucky with your face pressed into him. Apparently, he was soft enough to fall asleep on because before you knew it, you had been drooling on him the entire hour. Prying yourself off the couch took more effort than was almost worth it before your eyes fell on the reason you were so tired to begin with.

Hajime smiles and hums looking at your bleary eyes. "Good morning sunshine, I was just about to take you to bed," he says, folding a dish towel over a chair. You toss off the blanket and grab on the slipper that fell under the living room table before padding up to him. Dipping your hands under both of his arms to lock them together behind him, now your face is in his chest instead of the chicken, which is entirely preferred.

"Don't wanna go to bed just yet," you muffle, sinking even deeper into him when both of his arms wrap around you in support. He smells like dish soap and birthday cake, and you turn your head to hear the heartbeat in his chest.

"What do you wanna do lovey? You know I'd give you the world if you asked," you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest with your pressed ear. He's cheesy, but half asleep, you feel just as much, if not cheesier.

"I have the world if I have you, they're one in the same. So just you is more than fine." Your eyes are closed, but you feel him shiver a little. "I wanna dance with you, though," you say, voice still soft and kinda raspy from sleep.

"Dunno if I can top what you just said even when I propose," he chokes out a laugh, or at least you think it's one. He shifts his hold a bit and starts leading you both in a lazy sway that starts near the toaster and ends next to the potted plant at the back door before starting over.

"When? Not if?" You tease him, a hand going to scratch the nape of his neck lightly.

"I'll never meet another you, so I'm pretty set on When."

"I'll say yes." Because you will. You can't imagine a life where you wouldn't.

"And I'll still cry when you do." You can tell he's crying now because it comes out shaky and his hold tightens a bit, before you lean back, stopping your impromptu waltz. Both of your hands come up to cup his face and look at his teary grey eyes before cooing at him.

"You big baby! Save those tears for When please. You'll be congested and sniffley all night if you don't stop." You start cleaning off his face with your sleeve, but he stops one of your hands and starts peppering your palm and wrist with small kisses. "I think I'm ready for bed now. Princess's orders," you say, dragging him towards your bedroom. You'll have to figure out tomorrow just how soon When is going to be, but for now you can hear the slow thumps of Hajime's steps as he follows behind you, squeezing your connected hand. It's not pressing in the least, you think, because it feels like there will be plenty of tomorrows too.

-----

When you wake up in the morning, it takes you an hour to realize Hajime had put the ring on your finger while you were asleep.

It takes you five minutes to run through town in your pajamas, barefoot to find and full on tackle him in front of the place he was about to get your breakfast in.

And it takes about two minutes of unintelligible blubbering on both your parts before anyone understands what is going on.

No one timed it, but if they did, it would've taken less than ten minutes for the whole town to find out via texts, calls, and yells down the streets and through windows that you're engaged.

[thestuffedalligator]

Pushing Daisies would make for a killer stage musical, by the way.

[ajcrowlor]

It's so clear now that you are all that I have I have no fear cos you are all that I have

so i decided i wasn't actually all that happy with the background of this piece and redid it haha :'D

again, this is from a post-series Empty rescue plotbunny, it's yet another image of Dean and Cas in freefall (which is probs from watching too much Eureka Seven in hs), and have the soundtrack that is both inspired by this scene and acted as inspiration to draw this (mostly Snow Patrol's You're All I Have and Signal Fire being blasted on repeat):

(also how the FUCK do yall size your procreate shit for tumblr? i feel like everything i post looks like a pic i took with my first slide phone circa 2008... it makes potato quality look good *sobbing*)

[cupophrogs]

Hey DD. How have you been. You’ve been quiet.

“Thankfully, most of the vending machines are intact and full, so we won’t be starving while Cherub’s leg heals. Thing has caught him trying to sneak out far too many times.”

[larabar]

"so, that was fun"

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[iodotsys]

So as some of you may be aware, I am a musician. And since I am a musician, I am also insane. So, I decided to write an entire overture for Insane in the Membrane over the course of two days. Enjoy.

[softpine]

one hit wonder 🌟

inspired by this lovely anon:

[milfygerard]

but fr outside of my contracted madness i absolutely refuse to give joe alwyn gold rush like how is that song at all related to their relationship the lyrics clearly spell out a relationship that either never existed or only existed in implication and fantasies and maybe-maybe nots and its so bitter and yet desperately soft in the bridge where it almost projects a sense of envy, of wanting to be them as much as you want them. It continues an interesting oft ignored lyrical trend of taylor wanting just as much to be her lover as to have them, envying their easy charisma (you were flush with the currency of cool/i was always turning out my pockets) or quiet dignity (your integrity makes me seem small) dating back to her earliest songs (the kind of flawless i wish i could be). Theres a projected self hatred and yearning to be better that twists itself into both romantic and sexual lust for her partners thats so fascinating and speaks to how all of her songs regardless of who theyre about are also an act of self reflection on who she is and who she wishes to be.

[cerise-on-top]

Singing Price a Lullaby

Reusing one of my favorite ideas! I actually put in the names of all the characters I write for into a random picker and I got Price! Lovely, he's earned it!

Looking up from your phone, you gazed through the window, looking at the few stars and clouds that were visible. The sun had kissed the planet goodnight a while ago. And yet, here you were, all alone still, lying in your bed as you awaited your lover to finally finish his work for the day. A torturous time, really. Although he may have been so near, you dared not disturb him in what he deemed so important. And thus you were left to your own devices for hours now, asking him whether or not he had desired some food from time to time. Truthfully, an empty stomach was the only thing to make John abandon his oh so important work. And even then, conversation was sparse, he merely thought about work, not paying you much mind. While there may be the occasional answer were you to ask a question, it was short. He may have been the captain of a prestigious force, but that didn’t mean he should neglect you like that. Even you, with your understanding nature, had your limits. But it wasn’t John unintentionally ignoring you for the majority of the day that got to you, no. What really irked you was how few breaks he took. Yes, what he had to do was indeed of utmost importance, but you’d rather have him take care of himself either way. You brought him tea and water, incentives to get away from his paperwork for a few minutes at a time.

Looking at your phone yet again, the clock read 21:23. Had it been up to you, you would have dragged John from his desk and into bed. While you may not have been as strong as he was physically, you would hold him down until sleep would take him. If you needed to, you would learn to tie knots as well, anything to get your boyfriend to rest. With a sigh, you turned off your phone, deciding that you, and him, had had enough for the night. Your bed may have been a bastion of comfort, but it was incomplete without him. And thus, yet again, you sought him out in the one place he could almost always be found.

You knocked on the door to his office and, to no surprise, John invited you in, not bothering to open the door himself, however.

“Evening, love. Can I help you?” It was late, he had been working since the morning. Evidently, he was tired, his speech a bit slower than usual. John even had the gall to stifle a yawn around you. Had you been stronger, you would have picked him up, thrown him over your shoulder and carried him to your shared bed. But alas he was too heavy. The sentiment was still very much there, though.

“John, don’t you think it’s time to head to bed? It’s half past nine pm already, you’ve been at this since ten am.”

Turning back to his paperwork, he tapped the pen against his papers. “Just a little bit longer, then I’ll stop for the time being.”

Those few sentences made you irrationally angry. ‘Just a little longer’, that usually meant he’d be at this for another three hours or so, which was unacceptable. You took a deep breath and gently closed the door behind you. However, you could not pretend to be calm any longer as you stomped over to John, taking his papers from him and scanning them over. “Spelling error. Spelling error. Did you doze off as you wrote this? Wrong use of ‘than’. Spelling error.” You put the papers down with force, it was a surprise none of them had flown off the desk. “John, you’re dead tired and mentally exhausted. I think it’s time you call it quits for the night.”

Putting his pen down, he sighed. “Love, it’s alright. This is important and the deadline is coming up soon enough. I can go to bed later. I’m not tired just yet either.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you a bit closer and resting his head against you, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll join you soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Stop shitting me. You’re leaving this room right now.” Grabbing his arm, you pulled him up. You had expected otherwise, but he put up no fight as you dragged him off the chair. It seemed as though not even he wanted to really work anymore this late. No one was going to burn him at the stakes for heading to bed for the night. Or stopping for any other reason. “And if you’re not tired, fine. We’ll do something else until you are tired.” What a liar. You were sure if you forced him to bed and wrapped a blanket around him he’d be gone in roughly ten minutes. Maybe even less. His eyes were only half open, and he was, yet again, stifling a yawn. “Come on, we’re heading to the living room. I have an idea for what we can do.”

For a moment he hesitated, refusing to go along with you as you were halfway through the door. John looked back at the documents on his desk, barely moving as you tried to drag him through the door. His gaze seemed almost empty as he stared off into space. He was half asleep, even while standing there. Eventually, he relented, turning off the lights and following you into the living room.

Holding onto his wrist still, you sat down on the couch, patting your lap as John simply stared at you. Raising his eyebrow, it was clear what he wanted to convey. ‘I’m too heavy for you, I won’t be sitting in your lap.’ But that wasn’t your intention either.

“Lie down, put your head on my lap.” Although he may have been a captain, he obeyed your command, no complaints from his side either. It was adorable how he looked up at you, barely conscious. You were certain he’d fall asleep eventually. However, maybe, just maybe, you could convince him to go to bed without him actually falling asleep in your lap. You wanted to sleep in your bed as well, after all. All of this could have been avoided if only he would take better care of himself. You’re going to scold him for that, but it could wait until tomorrow. For the time being you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What are we going to do now? Watch the telly?”

“Quiet, my dear. I’m thinking.” What you were about to do was kind of embarrassing. You were only really used to singing to yourself when no one was around. But you always found your voice to be quite soothing. In fact, you could sing yourself sleepy with certain songs as well. It was a blessing and a curse. You hoped you wouldn’t start yawning throughout it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as unlikely as one would think. Still, you’d give it your all. But what to sing? You wanted to go for something a bit nicer.

Eventually, you settled for a song, looking away from John for a bit before starting to play with his hair again. He never looked away from you, taking in all of your features, regardless of how many times he had seen them.

Your voice wasn’t overly loud, it wasn’t overly high pitched either as you sang. Still, you felt a bit embarrassed, avoiding John’s gaze. It seemed almost humiliating to you, singing in front of someone else after years of not doing so. But it would take John’s mind off of things, you hoped. Your little performance was nice, you could feel yourself relaxing a bit as well.

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

Searching until my hands bleed

This flower don't belong to me

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

Searching until my hands bleed

This flower don't belong to me

This flower don't belong to me

Why can't she belong to me?

Slowly, you could feel your eyes getting a bit droopy as well, a yawn coming along with the feeling. Still, you ignored such for the sake of continuing to sing. John shifted in your lap, laying down on his side as he nuzzled into your stomach. You couldn’t tell if he was actually enjoying this, anxiety building up in your chest. However, you had already started, it would be a shame to stop now.

Every word, every thought, every sound

Every touch, every smile, every frown

All the pain we've endured until now

All the hope that I lost, you have found

He wrapped his arms around your middle and sighed contently. Maybe your anxieties were unfounded after all. It wasn’t often he’d sigh like that, only when he was really comfortable. For a moment, you dared to look at him. His eyes were closed and he seemed happy.

Every word, every thought, every sound

Surrender

Every touch, every smile, every frown

Surrender

All the pain we've endured until now

Surrender

All the hope that I lost, you have found

His breathing was shallow and calm. Has he fallen asleep already? You would have preferred it if he had fallen asleep in your shared bed, but you supposed this was better than nothing. You could always just take a nap tomorrow.

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Your little performance was over now. You had found yourself to be quite tired yourself, but dared not to move in fear of waking John. Yet, eventually, he stirred awake, in spite of you not moving a muscle. His slumber didn’t last very long, if he had even slept in the first place.

“Beautiful, love. How come you never told me you could sing like that?”

“Well, it is a bit embarrassing. Even though I really do love singing. Anyway, go to bed, you stinker. It’s late and you’re tired.”

John sighed, but got up reluctantly. Having pulled you up with him, he linked his arm with yours. You were ready to hold him given how he swayed from left to right as he walked. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. You should sing more often. I’d love to hear you sing again sometime.”

“W-well, I’m sure that could be arranged… We’ll discuss that tomorrow. For now we’re heading to bed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else at this hour.” What a jester. Had you not intervened then he’d still be working away at some boring papers. But you were proud of him for complying. He needed that rest, after all.

You weren’t sure how long it took for him to actually fall asleep, but you could have sworn you heard light snoring the moment he hit the bed. In fact, he wasn’t even moving anymore, it was you, who had to drape the blanket over the both of you. But you didn’t mind. With a gentle kiss to the top of John’s head, you settled down for the night yourself, nestling into the blankets and getting comfortable. Eventually, you, too, fell asleep, tired from singing the lullaby.

[littleplantfreak]

The Wheel - Umemiya Hajime

(From my earlier post this morning about how Umemiya would do the voices from his kid's bed time stories. I don't think there's any CWs. It's SFW and a x reader? but that's all i think)

Umemiya’s always been a reader. Whether it was his parents reading to him when he was young, him reading to his siblings in the group home, or just the gardening books he began to read as he started taking an interest in it, books were always a staple to him. It’s no surprise when your first child’s room ends up having a huge bookcase full of books, along with a few scattered toys and a piggy bank placed high enough that your three year old can’t reach it. Every night before bed, your daughter picks an armful of books out before waddling over and throwing them down. To her, this is one or two books, even though it’s actually around ten if you counted. She never stays awake long enough to get through all of them, but her efforts are nothing if not valiant.

The three of you squish up on her small bed while her pudgy fingers grab the first book on the pile. You start the narration, and she’s running her hands on the pages, tracing little goats as they’re frolicking through the pages. Just as the troll begins to speak, your husband takes over the dialogue after slipping on his reading glasses.

“Who’s that going across my bridge?” Hajime grumbles in a deep voice, and you can see your daughter visibly perk up. As the little goat gets past the troll, he gets more dramatic, and at the climax, he pauses the story.

“Is he gonna hurt the big billy goat, daddy?” Your little girl asks, bottom lip trembling in upset.

“I’m not sure, little star. Do you want me to keep reading?” He brushes her hair back out of her face as she thinks about it. She looks at the big billy goat, hand passing over the picture again, and even though she’s about to tear up with worry, she grabs your fingers and squeezes them tight before telling him yes, she does want to hear it.

He starts again, explaining that the big billy goat rammed into the troll so hard, he flew off the bridge and was swept away by the river. Your daughter smiles, looking at the three billy goats happily munching on the grass, and you can’t stop a giggle from rolling past your lips.

“Daddy’s pretty good at the voices huh?” you ask, booping her nose gently.

“THE BEST!” She yells before picking up the next book from the pile as she explains that you’ll do the same thing as before and Hajime will be doing the high-pitched voice of a baby bird trying to find its mother that has you snorting into your hands.

When she has a play date with some neighborhood kids, her and her friends are enthralled by him reenacting the story of Peter Pan, sword fights, and all while you’re making lunch in the kitchen. Even after you adopt her younger brother, your daughter listens to the same stories he’s told a hundred times before with the same adoration, sometimes jumping in herself to voice the characters she really likes.

Your son, now a teenager in high school, sits at a table in the local library, book open to a page he hasn’t turned in the past 20 minutes. He’s hunched over it as if to study, but his eyes flicker over to the corner of the children’s section every so often. There, a group of younger kids crowd around on a circle carpet for the weekly reading time, hushed in awe of the man reading a story.

“…and the big billy goat winds up to run headfirst into the troll…and he gets eaten!” No longer quiet, the kids are howling and shouting, and your son’s neck snaps in the direction of his father. Shutting his book, he pushes out of his seat, walking to the edge of the carpet.

“Dad!” He blusters, a little too loud to be considered decent in a library. Hajime just tilts his head towards him, eyes locked on with a grin on his face.

“Hey tiger, thought you were studying,” he says, playing at surprise.

“That’s not how the story ends, and you know it,” his son's eyes are serious, his expression bothered. He’s heard this story countless times, and the big billy goat never loses.

“Really now?” Hajime slaps his hands on his thighs before standing up from his chair, holding the book out close enough for him to grab. “Why don’t you show us how it ends then?” He grins, scarred eyebrow cocked in challenge.

His son realizes the trap he’s fallen in, looking at the pairs of eyes now burning into him, urging him to finish the story the right way. “…Fine. But everyone’s gotta listen because I’m not going back and rereading it if you start giggling with your friends,” he says, grabbing the book and flipping its pages, rewinding a bit before the climax so it won’t confuse the ones who were thrown off by the fake ending earlier. Hajime sits down on the carpet with the rest of the kids cross-legged, watching his son start out slow and nervous, but eventually his tone changes and slips into a grumbled voice, the big billy goat about go head to head with the troll again.

By the end of the book, the kids are up and crowding him, asking if he'll pleeeease read another story! Just one more, Nii-san the caterpillar one! No, he's gonna like the one with the bats more-. and the flush on his face rivals Sakura's when he was younger.

You walk in just as the kids start showing your son different books, pulling on his pant legs, and you can't help but laugh. You look at your husband, who's not giving any aid whatsoever.

"So you're pawning off your jobs now? What happened to the reliable Umemiya Hajime?" You tease, giving him one of the drinks from your shopping bag.

Hajime hums at that, a smile on his face. "He just so happens to be equally reliable. I think he's got a knack for it," he whispers, pulling you close so you're hip to hip, his arm wrapped around your waist and pressing a kiss to your jaw.

"Right, and this has nothing to do with the text from our daughter saying she's coming to visit in a few minutes? You told her to come down here, didn't you?" Accusation evident in your voice, as you check the time from the last set of texts in the family group chat.Your son's been talked into reading Paddington as the kids quiet down in rapt attention.

He doesn't notice his big sister coming in and snapping a quick picture of the scene in front of her until his phone goes off, and he's turning pink, fumbling, and trying to make excuses as to why he's reading to a bunch of kids. No matter what, she'll end up teasing him about it, so he's at a loss. It doesn't stop him from coming back next week at the same time, when his dad makes the excuse that he'll have to cancel the reading time this week due to an appointment if he can't get someone to fill in.

[tvlipsandbread]

[eri-pl]

My dear mutuals, I just realized something.

So, there's been talk recently about breaking Papita out of Mandos and I suppose more of us may need help at some point... but we need one fundamental thing if we are to be able to save one another from some terrible prison (or, idk, recognize each other in a supermarket...):

we need to have a song in common

Like, seriously, the default scheme for breaking someone out from somewhere is: character A start singing, character joins them, character A finds character B and gets them out. Except...

I'm not sure there's any song I could sing together with any of you.

We need to make a list of songs that we all know well enough. Seriously.

[fairyrona]

So, in s5 we're going back to s1, right?

In s1 hearing Will sing in the talkie was a beacon of hope. He's alive!

What if in s5 it's the opposite? the moment doubt sets in?

Personally I ain't expecting another "fast! what's their fav song??", but it would be expected for music to be used with a positive driving force. Motivating, inspiring, waking up some good memories.

However, making the villain use the 'good guys' weapon against them?

That's new.

Everyone having a break, occupying some room, Will scribbling in a notebook half-heartedly. Then a head turns in his direction. And then another one. Already faint chats stop mid sentence, one after the other. All noise but one tune die out.

He's humming absentmindedly. A word or two every now and then.

...

"What's that song he's singing?"

"Guys..."

"Will?"

"Where did you hear that song?"

"What song?"

"The one you were just humming?"

The one that was playing on the radio.

"It- It was just playing on the radio?"

...

"...There's no radio here."

And nobody knows if it was just the connection, the memory somehow making it's way into Will's mind or Henry deliberately showing everyone that he's there. He has him.

But then?? Wouldn't it be stupid, losing his spy? Why would he do that, it couldn't have been on purpose!

After that it comes falling apart. Mistrust and doubt. Confusion and chaos.

Well, he played us the last time!

(I am of course talking about Victor's safe song, Dream a little dream of me)