Rules: post a screenshot or a list of your playlist titles and tag some friends. If you're tagged, send op an ask about one of their playlists.
so. funny story. i....have. a lot. lmao
putting it under a cut for the sake of y'all's dashes
no pressure tagging (grabbing a bunch of you since i haven't done a tag game in a while): @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @writernopal @tabswrites @manicdepressivedaisy @nightingalesighs @commander-krios @princess-prawn @kiran-wears-science-blues @aceouttatime @straypurplebread @discoeffect @bambino1294 @breadedsinner @beelzebby666 and leaving it OPEN feel free to hop on and tag me i love music
let's hear about 25 and 31 for the playlist tag game! please tell me I rolled a Kadmos themed one please please please
ask me about my playlists
you did not but i'll give you a bonus (#55 is kadmos)
kerosene is more or less my ME2 jane/garrus playlist. she's pissed at him for going off and doing stupid shit, he's pissed at her for not letting him have his dumbfuck revenge quest.
faves:
kerosene by vanish [youtube]
breathe by tropic gold [youtube]
aquamarine by the afterimage [youtube]
toxic bastard syndrome is the first castis/avitus playlist i made for @thetrashbagswasteland (here's the answer where i talk about the other one). it's not healthy, what they've got, but it works... sort of.
faves:
salt and vinegar by lights [youtube]
love songs drug songs by x ambassadors [youtube]
this is love by air traffic controller [youtube]
engravings by ethan bortnick [youtube]
neon gravestones is my kadmos mix. it's not quiiiiiiite done, but bc ilysm, i'll drag it out for you.
Ayyyy playlist tag game!!!! Gimme a couple songs from #16 and #57 plz <3
~@tabswrites
ask me about my playlists
the stars we wander, the hands we're dealt is uhhhh the second? i think the second castis/avitus mix i've made for @thetrashbagswasteland, who is entirely to blame for this ship even existing. different than the first, this is aimed less at the hatefucking and more at the sad old men they've become, settled into something like domesticity, or as close to it as avitus can manage. neither particularly wants to admit (to themselves or anyone else) what they are, fearful that saying it out loud might make it real, might mean something more than "roommates out of necessity, benefits out of convenience." it means avitus having to confront that people might actually care if he dies, and that maybe... just maybe, he doesn't want to die in a blaze of glory. that maybe he might want to ride this thing out, see where it goes. that retiring from living hard and fast, that learning to be a person again and not just a tool or a weapon, that holding still might not be so bad after all. oops i. made myself emotional--
anyway here's some of my faves on this playlist (it's actually one of my favorites i've ever made):
the cattle by zach palmer [youtube]
longshot by catfish and the bottlemen [youtube]
bugfood by alissic [youtube]
the boy who cried wolf is actually the playlist for act i of stellar parallax! the songs are supposed to follow along with the chapters!
here's my faves and the passages they go with:
brutus by the buttress [youtube]
Jane knocked the wind from his lungs before he could draw another breath. Her eyes weren’t cold anymore. She fought like a hellcat. Like her life was on the line. How hard had it really been planetside? I have been starving and squatting in an abandoned building for the past three years.
Her fist connected with his jaw and the world went fuzzy. The ground defied gravity, rising to meet him with gusto. His shoulder screamed where it connected with the thin mat. John’s grin was lopsided as he wiped the blood from his mouth. He pitied the pirate that ever ended up in her sights. “Shit, Jane,” he chuffed. “You’re good.”
Jane didn’t return his smile. “No, John.” She spat his name over her shoulder like a curse. “I’m just better.”
where is my mind by safari riot (cover of the pixies) [youtube]
Jane was floating.
Stiff-backed. Limbs dangling uselessly beside and below her like some invisible force had yanked her right off the ground by a string tied to her ribcage. Jaw wrenched open in a silent scream. And her eyes—
Rolled all the way back, as if whatever that beacon was wanted her to see what it was doing to her brain, forced her to see it.
John lunged for her, but thick, armored arms wrapped around his trunk, the same ones that pushed him away from Jenkins. That let Arterius doom the poor kid’s family to a closed-casket funeral. We can’t risk it, Nihlus had said. Do you want him to become one of those things? Do you think you could put him down?
But this time the Brawler was pointed at Jane, and Jane was still alive, she just needed help, she needed someone to knock her loose with a stick like the manuals all said to do with a person being electrocuted. John struggled harder against Nihlus, kicked, punched, spat, cursed — then went still as Jane’s head turned all the way around to face them.
And shrieked. Not the scream he expected either, no, what came out of his sister was hundreds, thousands of voices screaming, sobbing, begging, praying all at once. Its volume grew and morphed into a bellow that seized hold of his mind and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed —
Jane dropped to the ground like a ragdoll, and he jolted awake in the Normandy’s medbay.
into dust by mazzy star [youtube]
Saren had offered to help. There were two shovels, after all, and they were both biotic.
Jane grabbed one, then shut the shed. “I need to do this,” she muttered, and started digging.
Dark clouds rolled across the sky.
Once she’d broken through the grass, it wasn’t so bad; the ground was soft and the work was repetitive and Eden Prime was quiet, so quiet now that most of its population was gone.
“It’s going to rain,” Saren said, shortly before the first drop landed on Jane’s nose.
“The porch is covered,” she told him, and kept digging.
All at once, the sky opened up. Somewhere in the downpour, she could hear Saren swearing, dragging the cloth-wrapped body onto the covered porch. Jane took a deep breath.
Focused on digging.
Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.
She’d barely made progress before the first aches settled into her shoulders and back. It was 2183. She didn’t have to do this. Holes could be dug with machines, with lasers, with bots.
Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.
Machines, lasers, and bots had certainly made the body that would fill this one.
Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.
But so had her own negligence. All the bodies littering Eden Prime weighed down her shoulders, adding to the pain spreading down her arms and legs.
Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.
She didn’t have to do this, but she needed to.
The corporal didn't have any family left that would bury him. There wouldn't be a wake, a funeral, an awkward standing-around of relatives who could barely stand each other, picking at the potluck fare for however long seemed appropriate so their departure wouldn't look like an escape. He had no cousins, no uncles, no brothers, no father to carry his expensive wooden box to the hole a machine had dug. He had no friends left. Sandra couldn’t dig him a hole — didn’t need to, not after what she’d seen. John and Kaidan were several systems away.
Maybe you’ve got Anderson and your parents and the Smiths and the Harrises, some smaller, more vicious thing spat in her memory, but all I’m stuck with is you.
Jenkins just had Jane, pulling his dead weight over her back to transport him from the porch to his final resting place. The storm raged on, softened the ground even more. It sucked her into the muck with every step and caked onto her armor up to her knees. She lost her boots somewhere along the way.
Maybe she should have left Powell alive.
Saren had offered to help.
Maybe she should have accepted it.
I’m sorry , she’d mouthed seconds before machines dug a hole straight through the corporal. He might have accepted it, had he still been around to. She wouldn't forgive herself, though, even after all this.
It didn’t feel right to just dump him in, and the ground seemed to agree, crumbling beneath her feet and dumping her into the hole instead. There was a metaphor in there somewhere: lying in a grave she’d dug with her own hands, beneath the soldier who’d be alive if not for her.
She belonged there.
“We have work to do, Jane,” Saren reminded her.
He was right. Jane struggled out from under the corporal’s corpse, arranged him like a funeral home might, and made her ungraceful exit from the grave. She was more mud than Marine at that point, but there was work to do. She picked up her shovel.
Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Plap. Exhale.
She could mourn this man she’d barely known later, after she’d hunted down the bastard who sent his machines to Eden Prime.
Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Plap. Exhale.
Burying Jenkins was harder than digging the hole; it took seven attempts to convince herself that it was okay to throw dirt on his face — she was returning him to his mother, that was the reason that finally stuck. She was returning him to his mother, and he would help her garden grow.
When she was done, Saren sprayed her down with the half-rotted hosepipe he’d found coiled against the side of the prefab. It didn’t matter if she was wet, he told her, it was raining anyway. Water would dry. The blood on her hands wouldn’t, but the water would.
That was okay, too, he told her, albeit in much prettier words. He and his ship were both stained far deeper than anyone ever should be.
tagged back in march by @thesorcerersapprentice (i have a few of these, and i'm so fucking excited y'all don't understand sharing music is my love language) thank you!!!
Rules: Put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up.
don't you worry child || cover by bear bones, tiggi hawke [spotify] [YT]
golden age || foreign figures, ej michaels, jonny t [spotify] [YT]
shadow's call || kisnou, laura vall [spotify] [YT]
tagging (gently ofc): @void-botanist (tagback <3) @sparatus @jezifster @who-is-page @dr-paine @bloodlessheirbyjacques (idk if we're moots but i know you have good taste) @discoeffect @thetrashbagswasteland @teamdilf @liv-is
I’m so sorry for any formatting inconsistencies I’m on mobile. ANYWAY. Another conceptual one that will very likely become Something some day! Also one of my first attempts at photobashing
Is it perfect? No. But I like it!
So here’s some of my faves from white dove:
I love you but I need another year by Liza Anne [youtube]
Flood by Saltillo [youtube]
Lotus flower (cover of Radiohead) by Alexa melo [youtube]
playlist game "to be anointed in gold" and "cat::mouse" :blurryeyes:
to be anointed in gold is one i made for another ask game -- i think you actually sent me the prompt so enjoy that throwback! conceptually, it's a story of betrayal, of being cast out of the palace, of returning in the guise of a concubine and ultimately getting revenge.
cat::mouse is the turning point for frankie and foxy, wherein their game starts to feel a little too real and hits a little too close to home.
this one doesn't have a tracklist yet, but my favorites on this one are:
just a game by cathedrals [youtube]
headlights by ivy & gold [youtube]
games by reptile room [youtube]
and the passage (from Blinding Neon, chapter 13) that inspired this playlist is one of my favorites, actually:
Frankie slams both hands on the table, and when that doesn’t even get a reaction, she grabs his ear and rattles the table with his head. “Look at them! They weren’t a fucking threat to the mob!” she shouts, holding him down. “These were innocent people just trying to live their lives! Graves was executed on his fucking knees, Key spent the last few moments of his life drowning in his own bathtub, Nolan and Molly had their throats cut for the crime of inhabiting an apartment the murderer wanted access to, Katrina had her eyes stolen before she was strangled, Jazmin just got her fucking skull caved in, Charlotte was orphaned before she got a chance to take her first breath, look at them!”
“The fuck does any of this shit have to do with me?” Foxy finally shouts back. He doesn’t struggle against her hold, but she releases him anyway. She got her reaction.
“Oh, is that how we’re playing it?” Frankie throws her notepad on top of the murder collage, then flips to the first page. “Yeah, you didn’t think I’d keep the detailed copy of my notes on old fashioned paper, did you? You got what the fuck I wanted you to get and nothing more.” She ignores his wide eyes and hanging jaw. “Subject 1 admits primary material is a bulletproof alloy. Subject 2 admits leaving invitation. Ambushed in hallway by Subject 5,” she reads off. “Unidentified red stains on shirt collar. Stains were not present at lunch. Whereabouts of Subject 5 unknown during meeting with Subjects 1 and 2. Coincides with Graves’ time of death. After pursuit by unknown assailants, Subjects 1 and 2 admit Subjects 3 and 5 engage in illicit activity for the organization. Subject 5 took decoy drive.” She licks her thumb with a flourish and turns the page.
“Frankie, it’s not–”
“Subject 2 admits knowledge of active investigations,” she interrupts loudly. “Depth of knowledge unknown. Subject 2 admits Subject 5 engages in espionage. Subject 2 admits Subject 3 and 5 have ‘done hits’ for the organization.”
Fear looks out of place on Foxy.
It makes her mouth water. She’s not sure if she’s about to vomit or wants to eat him alive. She keeps reading so she doesn’t have to think about it. “Subject 2 elaborates further on relationship with Victor Malone, see addendum to case file. Subject 8 admits all Subjects capable of taking a life. Subject 8 suggests verifying the investigating officer of the Malone case. Subject 5 demonstrates physical capabilities at full capacity. Subject 5 implies passive observation of Detective Malone. Subjects 3, 5, and 7 imply Government involvement in theft of civilian data. Investigating officer on Malone case was Joseph Bianchi.”
A fan kicks on in Foxy’s chest. The handcuffs clink together with his subtle movements. Good luck breaking out of those, asshole. Those are designed specifically to restrain droids before decommissioning. The thought makes her uneasy. She pushes it aside and turns the page.
“Subject 5 gains illicit entry into Detective Malone’s apartment. Subject 5’s whereabouts unknown while Detective Malone is not at Plex. Subject 5 arrives from unknown location as Detective Malone is leaving for homicide call. Shirt uncharacteristically plain. Unknown red stains on collar, stains prove to be red-brown in color when rubbed away. Fur on face wet and tangled, scrubbing suspected. Unknown antiseptic odor present in vehicle. Subject 5 knows address of crime scene. Subject 5 was not informed by Detective Malone of address prior to arrival.”
“Yeah, okay, that one looks bad–”
“Molly Burch resembles Detective Malone. Hesitation marks noted around fatal laceration.”
“Frankie–”
“Subject 5 picks locks and disables cameras of precinct station. Subject 5 admits organization resources may be helpful in investigation. Services declined. Subject 5 allegedly investigating scene of droid decomm. Subjects 6, alias ‘Helena Gallus’, and 7 called to scene as backup, source unknown.” There’s no interruption this time, so she turns the page and carries on. “Subject 5 suppresses distress signal and informs Detective Stone of alias ‘Jack Cassidy’. Forensic Tech Reynolds checks background of alias. Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
Frankie sucks her teeth. Turns the page. “Subject 2 gains illicit entry into Detective Malone’s apartment. Subject 5 has connected mismatched information in Victor Malone case. Information not acquired due to interruption.” Turns the page. “Subject 3 put in alleged extended maintenance cycle–”
“Are you implyin’ I did somethin’ to–”
“-- to recuperate after assault of Detective Malone. Subject 5 witnessed at scene of Stafford and Mercer double homicide–”
“What?”
“Suspected to have escaped scene through window–”
“For fuck’s sake–”
“And then you were at the fucking scene today, and you just keep showing up everywhere! Are you following me? Are all those notes supposed to throw me off my game? Are there fucking cameras in my apartment, is that why Freddy had me moved in? The breaking in, the sneaking around, you did something to Monty, I know you did–”
There’s a loud, scraping clatter as Foxy tries to stand, gets tugged short by the cuffs, and promptly faceplants into the table, shoving it forward a few inches. “Fuckin’ listen to yourself, Frankie!”
She doesn’t speak.
That’s fine, he’s got enough words for both of them.
Foxy pops his replacement hand off to free his wrist, laughing bitterly as Frankie takes a few steps back from the table. He doesn’t go after her. One of them needs to take the fucking high road for once, and their little game of cat and mouse isn’t fun anymore now that it’s got a body count nearing ten and left them both in paranoid pieces.
He picks up the photos of the first scene, commits them to memory, and taps the gathered edges on the table to neaten the stack. “This is the one with the conspiracy room, yeah?” He’s not expecting an answer. He doesn’t get one. “Did you go through all the shit in that room?”
“There hasn’t been time–”
“Did you,” he enunciates, sliding the photos back into their case file, “go through all the shit in that room?”
“No. Sawyer did, and she found the connection between Graves and Key.”
Foxy picks up those photos next. “Grey market dealer?”
“What does that have to do with–”
“Everything,” he clips. “I’m not sayin’ he deserved to die, nobody does.” The surprise on Frankie’s face cuts a lot deeper than if she’d have just shot him. “But I am sayin’ it’s a risk of the profession.”
“And that’s your excuse? He had it coming?”
Oh, she’s venomous now. “Careful, Detective,” he warns, holding up his uncuffed wrist. “I’m half-free.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It might be.” That surprised face plasters over the first. “I’ll go ahead and assume you didn’t go through his shit either.” Foxy glances at his arm as he slips the photos back into the case file. Frankie is roughly the same color. “Now them,” he moves on, holding up the thickest stack of photos, commits them to memory. “That… that’s just unnecessary.”
“Is it ever?”
He shrugs. “It might be.”
She doesn’t have a retort to that.
“But not for this. There were at least thirty more efficient ways Key could’ve been taken out.”
“Nice, Foxy, that’s so fucking charming.”
Ah, there it is. “You had it wrote down in your lil notebook, Detective, no sense dodgin’ the truth now.” He puts the newlyweds’ file back together. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “This is an official interrogation, ain’t it?”
That shock is all for him. She bounced his head off a metal table like she was in an action movie, he can have a little retaliation. As a treat.
Foxy clucks his tongue. “Ohh, Frankie, Frankie,” he coos. “You gonna read me my rights?”
He sees the answer in her coal-dark eyes before it leaves her lips, but he wants to hear it. He wants her to hear it out loud, from her own mouth. There wouldn’t have been one anyway , her memory echos. She’s a droid. Frankie gets credit for the hesitation, at least. “You’re a droid,” she seethes. “You don’t have any rights to read.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You ain’t changed a bit, have you?” A crack forms in the angry shell she’s formed over her heart. Now he needs a chisel. “Let’s tear these notes apart next, shall we?”
