Day 16: Sad Songs
Day 16: A Songs that make you cry (or nearly)
In no specific order:
Entwined by Jason Reeves
Iris by Goo Goo Dolls
Two Beds and a Coffee Machine by Savage Garden
Wonderwall by Oasis
Use Somebody by Kings of Leon (though I prefer the Paramore cover)
Colorblind by Counting Crows
Lullaby by Fall Out Boy (DON'T JUDGE)
Smash Into You by Beyoncé
Collide by Howie Day
Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker
...yeeep. I'm the person, that as someone flips through my itunes or whatever, I'll go "Oh, if I'm in the right mood, this song will make me cry." And I have my stash of songs. Really.
Music is one of those things that I'm intrinsically connected to and as such, it's comforting, it's heartbreaking, it's cheering it's...*waves hands* I'm going to start sounding crazy, but if I don't listen to enough music, I start to feel very disconnected from myself.
If anyone wants any of these songs uploaded, I'm willing to do so, I just wasn't in the mood to fight with sendspace tonight. :)
30 Days Meme:
day 01 → your favourite song
day 02 → your favourite movie
day 03 → your favourite television program
day 04 → your favourite book
day 05 → your favourite quote
day 06 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 07 → a photo that makes you happy
day 08 → a photo that makes you angry/sad
day 09 → a photo you took
day 10 → a photo of you taken over ten years ago replaced: a photo of me last year
day 11 → a photo of you taken recently
day 12 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 13 → a fictional book
day 14 → a non-fictional book
day 15 → a fanfic
day 16 → a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
day 17 → an art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
day 18 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 19 → a talent of yours
day 20 → a hobby of yours
day 21 → a recipe
day 22 → a website
day 23 → a YouTube video
day 24 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 25 → your day, in great detail
day 26 → your week, in great detail
day 27 → this month, in great detail
day 28 → this year, in great detail
day 29 → hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
day 30 → whatever tickles your fancy
Bonus!meme: When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
June '06. Harry Potter, James/Lily. Basically, Lily and James get thrown back into Tudor England to preemptively strike Voldemort, but angst and plot and hormones happen, too. Long, multi-chaptered epic that's nearly done, but then college happened.
The rain thrashed against the stones, the storm piling all her fury onto the hard granite that stood against the wild backdrop. The tempest pounded the castle childishly, trying to break the rocks with wind and water while searching for a crack, a leak, but finding none.
Lashes of storm threw themselves at a window, the warmly lit interior of the room a sharp contrast to the cold world outside. Inside this room, slender hands shuffling paper, a man sat at a desk. His beard, auburn peppered with silvery white, tickled the edge of the wood, and his sharp blue eyes glittered wisely.
A flickering candle on the desk guttered, blown by the invisible tendrils of a draft. The flame cast eerie reflections onto the simple brass nameplate that was pushed to the front of the desk and looked to soon be swallowed by papers. In the wavering light, the letters shone: Albus Dumbledore.
The man, Dumbledore, paid little attention to his surroundings; his mind was focused upon the grave matters of the world; not just those of his beloved school and its young occupants.
Life, death, and the sad purgatory of choices in between were the realms in which his mind dwelt. He sighed, a soft sound that epitomized his worry and sorrow. The matters on which he thought were things that would jeopardize not only his pupils, but the fate of his entire world as he presently knew it.
August 09. Harry Potter, Lily/James. I forget where I was going with it, but I do remember that it was very hurt/comfort lol
This wasn’t the sort of place that one slept alone in.
Lily rolled onto her back underneath her blankets, freezing despite it being late summer. She sighed in frustration and gave up on sleep, sat up, and picked her way through the sleeping bodies on the floor to the shattered window, where the tatters of a nearly transparent curtain gently waved.
Tall, barred remnants of windows let the moonlight shine through, spreading the white light across the grimy, once-white tiles of the floor, while stark, white-washed walls were covered in dirt and spiderwebs that danced in grey sheets when a cold draft wafted through the room. The entire building, from the gloomy grey brick on the outside, to the interior where beds mildewed in the English rain, seeped cold and despair.
Crossing her arms over her chest to ward off the chills the building induced, she surveyed the overgrown courtyard below, making sure to stay behind the wall, in case there was anyone outside searching for movement on the inside.
The Order was deep in the English countryside, holed up in a turn-of-the-century insane asylum, long abandoned by any person. After Voldemort’s latest string of attacks in London, destroying many of the wizarding buildings there, the Order quietly withdrew to this place, hoping they wouldn’t be found as they planned their next offensive maneuver.
She sadly gazed at her reflection that was caught in one of the broken window panes, her face slashed open by the jagged edges, and face paler than normal. She was haggard and worn, looking older than her nineteen years. Everyone did. Even James and Sirius were finding their natural exuberance being trodden down by the daily struggle to survive-constantly running, fighting, never having enough to eat. Simply living was beginning to take its toll on the Order; tempers were starting to flare with alarming frequency and willpower starting to wane.
Lily would have liked to say that she was immune to hunger and irritability, but she was only human, and she, too, felt the effects. Tonight she had lashed out at James; not that he was completely undeserving of it, she thought in retrospect. First, at dinner in front of everyone, he had told her that he was not going to allow her to openly fight Voldemort any longer, adding that it was too dangerous for her to go risking her neck. Lily had swallowed her angry outburst, not wanting to fight with him, and figured she’d talk to him later-with several silencing charms around them. But when she attempted to corner him just before they had went to bed, James had gone and batted away her words with needy kisses, his middle bumping against hers as he backed her onto a windowsill, murmuring not to worry about fighting.
As his fingers began to undo the button on her trousers, she’d smacked his hand away and then let him have the full force of her womanly wrath. “You of all people should know, James Potter, that I will do exactly as I choose to and none of your damned pureblood, male authority is going to change that!” she’d screamed at him, hands bunching into fists as she backed him toward the door of the room. “We aren’t fucking married and you still try to order me around!”
He’d pushed right back, his exhaustion and frustration equal to hers. “I was only looking out for you, you idiotic woman! D’you think I want to see you fucking get killed because you’re too reckless to consider the dangers? And if you want to get ‘fucking married,” then fine, but you’re going to have to bloody wait, Cinderella! We are fighting a fucking war!”
May 08. Lost, Charlie Pace. Started off well, but lost (lol) interest/time
Charlie Pace is not dead. But neither is he exactly living, which really throws a wrench into a lot of his plans.
He comes and goes; fades in and out of existence across the years he was alive. 1994: he’s still at home fiddling with his guitar, but he’s also sitting on the white sandy beaches of Greece, sipping a foreign beer while wearing aviators that keep slipping off his nose. 2004: he’s on a plane away from Australia, doomed as it is, but simultaneously playing a game of football with some kids in Central park.
He’s accepted this existence, almost. Although he seemingly has no purpose, Charlie’s always been a people-watcher, content to observe people, integrate the details he notices into his understanding of the picture but not actually interact with them. Plus, he’s twenty-five (or about…do the dead age at all?) and who wouldn’t want to travel the world for free? There always seems to be money in his pocket and a smile on his lips when he stumbles onto a new street corner.
Fall 09. Little Women, Jo/Laurie. AU--Set in the present; Laurie and Jo were besties when they were little, he left, she's pissed. He returns and is devastatingly handsome...stuff ensues. ;) Epically long, smarmy, actually good, but college barged in. I do have plans to return to this
That day of school started out terribly, ominously. Amy burned her cheek with the curling iron, Beth’s eco-friendly notebook had gone missing, and Jo’s favorite pair of jeans had a hole in the crotch, which she had to trade for a pair of slightly too-tight castoffs from Meg.
Fuming, the three March sisters began their awkwardly silent trek to the local high school, only a few blocks away from home. They would’ve taken Jo’s car, but Beth’s “green” sensibilities kicked in, and she insisted they walk because it was so warm. Jo had given up talking to anyone for the morning, so despite Amy’s protests, they found themselves walking through puddles that morning.
Once inside, Amy had squealed with delight and ran off to find her friends, blonde pigtails bouncing prettily and chatting about the latest drama, Beth immediately found her way to the band room, the piano waiting for her, and Jo sullenly made her way to her locker, freshman parting before her like the Red Sea.
Her locker, a garish orange color, had been subject to many of Jo’s warpath moods, and as a result was dented at the bottom from where she had kicked it after failing a History test, had an indent next to the lock from when Josh Hummel had asked her to the winter dance (not that he wasn’t a nice boy, it was just that Beth had asked him to ask her, and though Josh was in love with Beth-or perhaps because he was-he had asked her and Jo didn’t appreciate her sister’s well-meaning charity. She needed no man!), and various other mars to the outside. Inside, it was a collage of scraps of paper with poetry and opening lines for stories on them, a photo or two of she and her sisters, and some green Post-It’s with “You’ll use math to figure out sales!” and “Geography isn’t just for pussies!” that she’d scribbled in one of her more charitable moods.
She rested her head against her locker door, holding it in place to hide herself from the world. Her dark brown hair she let fall in front of her face as she sighed. Irritably, she let one hand fall and pull up the pants that were slowly sliding downward on her skinny frame.
“If you’ll let me, I’ll take those in the opposite direction,” a guy said behind her.
Jo stiffened, eyes nearly flashing fire and despite wanting to rain hell and brimstone upon this unfortunate soul, made herself turn to face the perpetrator. And
came face to face with Laurie.
The six years since she’d last seen him had been good to Mr. Laurence. Taller than Jo (a feat in itself), his dark hair was gelled into a punk style that suited him, tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans. His dark eyes were still intense as he stared at Jo with horror, and face as handsome as ever-no, Jo corrected herself, he had gotten even better looking. Damn fate.
Hope you enjoyed! :)
In no specific order:
Entwined by Jason Reeves
Iris by Goo Goo Dolls
Two Beds and a Coffee Machine by Savage Garden
Wonderwall by Oasis
Use Somebody by Kings of Leon (though I prefer the Paramore cover)
Colorblind by Counting Crows
Lullaby by Fall Out Boy (DON'T JUDGE)
Smash Into You by Beyoncé
Collide by Howie Day
Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker
...yeeep. I'm the person, that as someone flips through my itunes or whatever, I'll go "Oh, if I'm in the right mood, this song will make me cry." And I have my stash of songs. Really.
Music is one of those things that I'm intrinsically connected to and as such, it's comforting, it's heartbreaking, it's cheering it's...*waves hands* I'm going to start sounding crazy, but if I don't listen to enough music, I start to feel very disconnected from myself.
If anyone wants any of these songs uploaded, I'm willing to do so, I just wasn't in the mood to fight with sendspace tonight. :)
30 Days Meme:
day 01 → your favourite song
day 02 → your favourite movie
day 03 → your favourite television program
day 04 → your favourite book
day 05 → your favourite quote
day 06 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 07 → a photo that makes you happy
day 08 → a photo that makes you angry/sad
day 09 → a photo you took
day 10 → a photo of you taken over ten years ago replaced: a photo of me last year
day 11 → a photo of you taken recently
day 12 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 13 → a fictional book
day 14 → a non-fictional book
day 15 → a fanfic
day 16 → a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
day 17 → an art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
day 18 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 19 → a talent of yours
day 20 → a hobby of yours
day 21 → a recipe
day 22 → a website
day 23 → a YouTube video
day 24 → whatever tickles your fancy
day 25 → your day, in great detail
day 26 → your week, in great detail
day 27 → this month, in great detail
day 28 → this year, in great detail
day 29 → hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
day 30 → whatever tickles your fancy
Bonus!meme: When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
June '06. Harry Potter, James/Lily. Basically, Lily and James get thrown back into Tudor England to preemptively strike Voldemort, but angst and plot and hormones happen, too. Long, multi-chaptered epic that's nearly done, but then college happened.
The rain thrashed against the stones, the storm piling all her fury onto the hard granite that stood against the wild backdrop. The tempest pounded the castle childishly, trying to break the rocks with wind and water while searching for a crack, a leak, but finding none.
Lashes of storm threw themselves at a window, the warmly lit interior of the room a sharp contrast to the cold world outside. Inside this room, slender hands shuffling paper, a man sat at a desk. His beard, auburn peppered with silvery white, tickled the edge of the wood, and his sharp blue eyes glittered wisely.
A flickering candle on the desk guttered, blown by the invisible tendrils of a draft. The flame cast eerie reflections onto the simple brass nameplate that was pushed to the front of the desk and looked to soon be swallowed by papers. In the wavering light, the letters shone: Albus Dumbledore.
The man, Dumbledore, paid little attention to his surroundings; his mind was focused upon the grave matters of the world; not just those of his beloved school and its young occupants.
Life, death, and the sad purgatory of choices in between were the realms in which his mind dwelt. He sighed, a soft sound that epitomized his worry and sorrow. The matters on which he thought were things that would jeopardize not only his pupils, but the fate of his entire world as he presently knew it.
August 09. Harry Potter, Lily/James. I forget where I was going with it, but I do remember that it was very hurt/comfort lol
This wasn’t the sort of place that one slept alone in.
Lily rolled onto her back underneath her blankets, freezing despite it being late summer. She sighed in frustration and gave up on sleep, sat up, and picked her way through the sleeping bodies on the floor to the shattered window, where the tatters of a nearly transparent curtain gently waved.
Tall, barred remnants of windows let the moonlight shine through, spreading the white light across the grimy, once-white tiles of the floor, while stark, white-washed walls were covered in dirt and spiderwebs that danced in grey sheets when a cold draft wafted through the room. The entire building, from the gloomy grey brick on the outside, to the interior where beds mildewed in the English rain, seeped cold and despair.
Crossing her arms over her chest to ward off the chills the building induced, she surveyed the overgrown courtyard below, making sure to stay behind the wall, in case there was anyone outside searching for movement on the inside.
The Order was deep in the English countryside, holed up in a turn-of-the-century insane asylum, long abandoned by any person. After Voldemort’s latest string of attacks in London, destroying many of the wizarding buildings there, the Order quietly withdrew to this place, hoping they wouldn’t be found as they planned their next offensive maneuver.
She sadly gazed at her reflection that was caught in one of the broken window panes, her face slashed open by the jagged edges, and face paler than normal. She was haggard and worn, looking older than her nineteen years. Everyone did. Even James and Sirius were finding their natural exuberance being trodden down by the daily struggle to survive-constantly running, fighting, never having enough to eat. Simply living was beginning to take its toll on the Order; tempers were starting to flare with alarming frequency and willpower starting to wane.
Lily would have liked to say that she was immune to hunger and irritability, but she was only human, and she, too, felt the effects. Tonight she had lashed out at James; not that he was completely undeserving of it, she thought in retrospect. First, at dinner in front of everyone, he had told her that he was not going to allow her to openly fight Voldemort any longer, adding that it was too dangerous for her to go risking her neck. Lily had swallowed her angry outburst, not wanting to fight with him, and figured she’d talk to him later-with several silencing charms around them. But when she attempted to corner him just before they had went to bed, James had gone and batted away her words with needy kisses, his middle bumping against hers as he backed her onto a windowsill, murmuring not to worry about fighting.
As his fingers began to undo the button on her trousers, she’d smacked his hand away and then let him have the full force of her womanly wrath. “You of all people should know, James Potter, that I will do exactly as I choose to and none of your damned pureblood, male authority is going to change that!” she’d screamed at him, hands bunching into fists as she backed him toward the door of the room. “We aren’t fucking married and you still try to order me around!”
He’d pushed right back, his exhaustion and frustration equal to hers. “I was only looking out for you, you idiotic woman! D’you think I want to see you fucking get killed because you’re too reckless to consider the dangers? And if you want to get ‘fucking married,” then fine, but you’re going to have to bloody wait, Cinderella! We are fighting a fucking war!”
May 08. Lost, Charlie Pace. Started off well, but lost (lol) interest/time
Charlie Pace is not dead. But neither is he exactly living, which really throws a wrench into a lot of his plans.
He comes and goes; fades in and out of existence across the years he was alive. 1994: he’s still at home fiddling with his guitar, but he’s also sitting on the white sandy beaches of Greece, sipping a foreign beer while wearing aviators that keep slipping off his nose. 2004: he’s on a plane away from Australia, doomed as it is, but simultaneously playing a game of football with some kids in Central park.
He’s accepted this existence, almost. Although he seemingly has no purpose, Charlie’s always been a people-watcher, content to observe people, integrate the details he notices into his understanding of the picture but not actually interact with them. Plus, he’s twenty-five (or about…do the dead age at all?) and who wouldn’t want to travel the world for free? There always seems to be money in his pocket and a smile on his lips when he stumbles onto a new street corner.
Fall 09. Little Women, Jo/Laurie. AU--Set in the present; Laurie and Jo were besties when they were little, he left, she's pissed. He returns and is devastatingly handsome...stuff ensues. ;) Epically long, smarmy, actually good, but college barged in. I do have plans to return to this
That day of school started out terribly, ominously. Amy burned her cheek with the curling iron, Beth’s eco-friendly notebook had gone missing, and Jo’s favorite pair of jeans had a hole in the crotch, which she had to trade for a pair of slightly too-tight castoffs from Meg.
Fuming, the three March sisters began their awkwardly silent trek to the local high school, only a few blocks away from home. They would’ve taken Jo’s car, but Beth’s “green” sensibilities kicked in, and she insisted they walk because it was so warm. Jo had given up talking to anyone for the morning, so despite Amy’s protests, they found themselves walking through puddles that morning.
Once inside, Amy had squealed with delight and ran off to find her friends, blonde pigtails bouncing prettily and chatting about the latest drama, Beth immediately found her way to the band room, the piano waiting for her, and Jo sullenly made her way to her locker, freshman parting before her like the Red Sea.
Her locker, a garish orange color, had been subject to many of Jo’s warpath moods, and as a result was dented at the bottom from where she had kicked it after failing a History test, had an indent next to the lock from when Josh Hummel had asked her to the winter dance (not that he wasn’t a nice boy, it was just that Beth had asked him to ask her, and though Josh was in love with Beth-or perhaps because he was-he had asked her and Jo didn’t appreciate her sister’s well-meaning charity. She needed no man!), and various other mars to the outside. Inside, it was a collage of scraps of paper with poetry and opening lines for stories on them, a photo or two of she and her sisters, and some green Post-It’s with “You’ll use math to figure out sales!” and “Geography isn’t just for pussies!” that she’d scribbled in one of her more charitable moods.
She rested her head against her locker door, holding it in place to hide herself from the world. Her dark brown hair she let fall in front of her face as she sighed. Irritably, she let one hand fall and pull up the pants that were slowly sliding downward on her skinny frame.
“If you’ll let me, I’ll take those in the opposite direction,” a guy said behind her.
Jo stiffened, eyes nearly flashing fire and despite wanting to rain hell and brimstone upon this unfortunate soul, made herself turn to face the perpetrator. And
came face to face with Laurie.
The six years since she’d last seen him had been good to Mr. Laurence. Taller than Jo (a feat in itself), his dark hair was gelled into a punk style that suited him, tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans. His dark eyes were still intense as he stared at Jo with horror, and face as handsome as ever-no, Jo corrected herself, he had gotten even better looking. Damn fate.
Hope you enjoyed! :)