#utilgitt

[fakedsciences-a]

@utilgitt

Burns leaaaaaaaans forward.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY KIDS? OR IS THIS MORE OF A CHILDLESS MILF SITUATION?"

[exspiritment]

@utilgitt said: I haven’t even seen you for a year.

"Well, I've been here. It took you long enough, Penny."

[rekant-2]

@utilgitt

"i heard your set." the bar's been dying a slow and painful death since they got here. by the time penny steps off stage, it's just them and a man who probably can't see two feet in front of his own face, hunched over the opposite end of the bar.

"you want a drink?"

[philomelia]

“     you know what i can’t stand?    the phrase:   you’ve got a voice like an angel.    who said angels were any good at singing?     ”      cassie’s scoff is loud enough to be heard over the hotel din.   she turns to @utilgitt​,   a fuzzy little dot of a girl.    “   do you think you could teach me how to sing?    ”

[fakedsciences-a]

@utilgitt

"They should really tip you more." Maryanne is deadly serious - more stern than her usual calm and amicable demeanor allows. "It's unjust. It's not right."

[exspiritment]

@utilgitt asked for: a dark bus stop lit only by street lights .

Two women alone at the bus stop. No earbuds in — you have to be able to hear if someone approaches from the side or from behind, from the bushes rustling in the wind. No small talk — again, you have to be acutely aware of your surroundings. You have to be alert. You have to hold your keys like a weapon.

Spirit's phone rings, and she holds up the illuminated device. Her wrinkles and dark circles are accentuated, are damn near glowing. Her face crumples and she begins to sob.

[rassvetiye-a]

     “  it was good.  “   sad,  but good.  anatoliy likes the inherent generosity of a sad songs given permission to feel.   he adjusts the coaster under his drink,  feeling the urge to busy his hands with something.   “  did you write it?  “

@utilgitt​ / starter call. 

[saintburnt]

@utilgitt liked for a starter.

it's still early, relatively. patrons slowly trickle in and cormac has his chin rested firmly in his palm, elbow propped on the table, looking at nowhere. it's a table close to the performer, one he had planned to move from long ago, but now is far too crossed to even think about that anymore. he has that icky feeling in his hands — like he shouldn't be there. make sure not to slur your words. ' how many people catch the sound check, you figure? '