headaches music

Heathers characters as things my friends have said

Veronica: *curls eyelashes* I FEEL SO ALIVE

Heather Chandler: Which one of you weakling bitches is going to open my Thermos for me?

Heather Duke: Does no one appreciate that I looked up on FUCKING GOOGLE the date Froot Loops were made just so that I could make a SHITTY JOKE?

Heather McNamara: That’s not a year. That’s like…12 months. 

JD: I would kill him for you. I’d kill him for fun, too, but that’s not relevant right now.

Kurt: Great minds think alike in terms of whores.

Ram: I’m going to deep-throat this Pocky, but I’m not gay. I swear.

Martha: You and your fork have outshone me and my spoon.

Ms. Fleming: No fighting in class! Kill each other at lunch, where I can’t see it. I have a headache.

I don’t really understand how people can have a good time in bars, unless they’re dancing or already really drunk. My friends are always trying to get me to visit the local bar with them on weekends, but it’s a cramped building with loud music, way too many people, and only a small fenced-in outdoor area filled entirely with smokers. It is not actually possible to have a conversation with anyone while there, and there isn’t really a dance floor.

What do people get out of that kind of environment, besides a headache?

things associated with the gang
  • sodapop: the comforting smell of a nice gas station, popped popcorn, strawberry smoothies on a picnic, lemon-scented cleaner, glittering blue water
  • ponyboy: pencil shavings, paint-splattered notebook paper, the sound of an old typewriter, the sound of a ripping t-shirt
  • darry: freshly-chopped wood, scented candles, cologne, a perfectly tied tie, wind rustling through dead tree branches
  • steve: car grease, the sound of a kit kat breaking, a sigh of relaxation when you finally go on break, smell of wet household paint
  • johnny: vanilla extract scent, cinnamon gum that's been sitting in a car glove compartment for a week, a neatly stacked pile of paper, organized post-it-notes
  • two-bit: laughing so hard your chest hurts and your eyes water, sun peeking through grey clouds, water-balloon fights, a fire place on a winter night
  • dally: worn-out leather, small headaches caused by loud music and bright lights, drives with the windows rolled down and warm winds blowing through the window
Rule Britannia (Drunkard Version)
Drunkards
Rule Britannia (Drunkard Version)

“Rule Britannia (Drunkard Version)” from Assassin’s Creed Syndicate

First at Heaven’s command
Arose from out the azure main
Arose, arose, arose from out the azure main 

This was the charter,
The charter of the land, 
And guardian angels sing this song:

‘Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the waves:
'Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.’

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Never, never, never shall be slaves!

i love how simple and totally uncomplicated and absolutely non headache inducing bts music videos are like in the blood sweat and tears japanese version namjoon is just a fallen rebel angel who tries to make jungkook also see the truth by forcing him to drink absinthe but jungkook cant really handle the truth initially so he throws it up but when it finally kicks in he rejects yoongi who is trying to keep jungkook safe and away from the truth which he also does to jimin when a version of jimin bites the (forbidden) apple and sees the truth and runs away to try to find the version of himself who hasnt bitten the apple and is just sitting there contemplating if he should when he is in a place that while absolutely dull and uneventful is also safe and comfortable but when he does find that version of himself yoongi manages to cover his face and he never gets to let that version of him know the truth and he ends up juxtaposed with hoseok who is the “boy” who meets “evil” and he struggles to reach out to the heavens while yoongi covers jin’s eyes as well from the vision of “the fall of the rebel angels” but when he gets into a fight with taehyung who is a representation of both lucifer and icarus and taehyung wins the moral high ground that he has taken against the rest of them ends up crumbling and he falls and breaks the same way that they did 

how simple and uncomplicated and totally not headache inducing 

anonymous asked:

would you share your instrumental/orchestral playlist?

yeah sure i’ll warn you though they’re all either chill or vaguely melancholy

also there are a couple of songs that are on there like four times so i can hear them more than once a session

here it is my dude

anonymous asked:

Now that the ask box is open again, I want to ask if you do soulmate AU's? If so, could you write an AU that you have the first words your soulmate says to you printed on your wrist. And that the words Tsukishima has on his wrists is something really negative. How he would react when he would hear his soulmate say those words. (Is this understandable? I feel like this was really confusing)

A) Soulmate AU’s are the reason I’m alive
B) Get ready for insecure Tsukishima Kei because that’s how I write this nut + this fits so perfectly for my headcanons of him I’m bawling y’all


Golden, silky cursive down the muscle on his wrist. It would’ve been so beautiful, if not for the words they said.

“You’re a failure.”


Words appeared during puberty, the peak of your hormonal blossoming. They started out faded, barely noticeable, and as time progressed, they became bold, powerful, the center of every pubescent teens sad, hopeful life. The very moment the faded gold ink first began to bleed into him at thirteen years old, Tsukishima Kei already knew he was beyond fucked. At thirteen years old he was lost, Jean Louise Finch in “To Set A Watchman”, discovering the bitter, cold truth. At thirteen years old he wasn’t ready for love, the only love he ever had washed down in the drain along with any jubilance he had left. At thirteen years old with the constant reminder of absolute pessimism lingering on his wrist while other boys fawned over sweet subliminal messages of infatuation, Tsukishima Kei lost himself more.

At fourteen years old he ripped himself apart. The gold ink that bled into his pale, scar shaven skin was still prominent, becoming brighter each time the flesh was bruised. He tried, he really did, to make himself the image of perfection. Knowing that one day, the person who he was to be tied to for eternity would think of him as a failure was just another weight onto his already collapsing being. Yamaguchi hit puberty later than he did, he peaked right after the first semester of their third year of middle school, and as he began to grow, the turquoise tangent on his wrist grew too. “Don’t be upset, I could name one hundred things I admire about you” it read, and Kei couldn’t help but wonder how Yamaguchi managed to be so fatefully tied to a woman of wisdom while he was anchored to a pit of pessimism.

When he was fifteen years old, he couldn’t take it anymore. When high school came, the hype of soulmates did nothing but erupt even more. Outside of volleyball, the only thing his volleyball team ever seemed to talk about was soulmates. Beautiful, funny statements in soft purples and reds and blues, they were all so lively yet Kei couldn’t wonder how his statement out of all of them was colored bright gold. As the year went on he grew tired, the eerie message doing nothing but causing him grief. He couldn’t help but dread recalling midterms, when all that went through his mind when he was studying is the cute gold calligraphy of ‘failure’. Yamaguchi found his soulmate, a lively one from a rival school, a kind, wise hearted soul just like Yamaguchi always dreamed. His friends, or acquaintances, as he liked to put it, we’re falling in love and finding themselves left and right, and by the time spring arrived and every first year on the team found his soulmate, even standoffish Kageyama who couldn’t talk to a female for his life, he drew the conclusion that he might as well be alone forever. That thought was ridiculous though, he knew it. He still had well over seventy years of his life left, and six years left of education, so not finding his soulmate in his first year of highschool would definitely not render him lonely. Although, he felt like it. He felt alone, and it made him feel pathetic. It made him feel like a failure just like those bloody golden words on his wrist prophesied.

He drove himself to move away at nineteen. He hadn’t found anything in his eighteen years in Japan and he hoped, and prayed there would be something for him beyond the borders of the familiar. So, he set off for Cornell, an Ivy League college in America. It was risky, it really was, even if he was the top of his English class. They had a good multicultural scene over there, he was told, and for some reason, that just dragged him in further. His wanderlust grew and grew the more and more he looked around into the vast world in front of him and by the time he was already settled into Cornell, he just wanted to pack his bags and travel somewhere else again. He couldn’t though, at least not until junior year. Cornell was treating him nice, a cosy establishment in the middle of nowhere and honestly, it reminded him a bit of home. If you traveled to the highest point on campus all you could see was miles of rolling hills and maple trees, crows flocking through the air at the break of dawn and the familiar chill down his spine in the winter. Although through it all, he still hadn’t met his soulmate. His brother encouraged him to still have hope through it all.
“I didn’t find my soulmate until senior year, you still have time!” He would say, but Kei would just shake his head.


He was in his junior year of college and he was presented with an opportunity of international education, an opportunity every college student hoped and prayed to have. He was going to Copenhagen, and he knew exactly why. Out of 196 countries and tens of thousands of cities, he chose Copenhagen, the heart of a freezing Nordic wonderland. It was said to be the happiest place on earth and to be frank, there was nothing Tsukishima needed in his life more than an optimistic habitat. So, as soon as the second semester came, he didn’t waste a minute hopping onto that plane.

At first, Copenhagen was weird.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, it was just unfamiliar. It was far too optimistic, streets lined with bars and old woman walking dogs, college students in beanies smoking weed on apartment balconies. Everyone carried an “I don’t give a shit” vibe and just as Tsukishima thought he would maybe, finally meet his soulmate, he was shut down. Everyone in this city seemed to be far too nice to utter such a thing as the thing on his wrist. He was ready to give up.

It was Friday morning and Tsukishima wanted to die. His roommate was already up, playing loud, headache inducing music from his side of the dorm. As much as he’d hate to admit, he got himself drunk last night, well really, his roommate got him drunk last night, it was the bastards idea to buy three crates of beer for a small frat party. He sat up in bed and groaned, not even attempting to hold back his displeasure.
“I didn’t think you’d be such a lightweight, Kei.” His roommate snorted, turning off his music to slump next to Tsukishima’s bed frame. “You want a water or something, buddy?”
“Don’t call me a fucking lightweight, I had eight beers.” He rubbed his eyes harshly, not sure if the stars he saw were from the rubbing or the alcohol that still lingered in his system. “But yeah, the water would be nice. Thank you.”
Tsukishima really hated himself in that moment. He was never one to be late for classes, never one to drink on a school night. Tsukishima Kei was never, not once in his life, ten minutes late for an eight o'clock class on the other side of campus. Although today, he broke the lucky streak.
“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” He muttered to himself, mustering up all his willpower to get out of his bed. His knees wobbled underneath him as he wasted no time getting dressed, chugging an entire water bottle in second, and throwing the empty container right back at his roommate.
“Don’t pee yourself out there, dumbass!”
“Fuck off, Mathias.” Was his reply, slamming the door behind him and immediately regretting his decisions from right now and the night before. Everything hurt, absolutely ached, and he began to wonder if perfect attendance was really worth the torture he was sure to endure in the next two hours. He pushed himself though, because skipping out would just mean that he was a failure.

By the time he arrived he was thirty minutes late. People were gawking at him, obviously taking notice of how he looked like an absolute wreck. He knew his eyebags had to be atrocious, but he was hoping and praying that he didn’t look like the walking dead. He took a quick seat in the back of the room, hoping that once he sat down people would lose interest and forget him. They did, one or two students still making nasty remarks a few rows in front of him. If he hadn’t cared so much about his reputation (and his mother’s money) he would’ve thrown his textbook at the back of their heads. The girl next to him fidgeted, scooting down the bench slightly to get away from him. She looked a tad bit uncomfortable, and part of him wanted to feel a bit guilty for her. He probably still smelled like alcohol, he thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He snorted, once he caught her eye and got his things situated. Tsukishima didn’t know why he thought a self deprecating joke would lighten the mood, for her eyes just widened and looked down at the laptop in front of her.
“Oh, sure, you’re a failure.” She commented back, her sarcasm blatantly evident. She pointed towards a pile of papers on her desk and said something else, but Tsukishima had short circuited far too long ago to process the words she said next.
His whole life was a misconception. Six years of acceptance and self consciousness all derived from one, big, misconception. She was the one to bring the words on her wrist to his attention. Small, blocky orange writing stating “I’m sorry, I’m a failure.” He still couldn’t process words, his wrist feeling as if it were burning. His gut was roiling and he absolutely couldn’t believe the horrendous irony this situation reeked with. The professor kept talking, droning away about the history of a long dead African tribe, but he didn’t care.
“I don’t think you realize how much these words have made me hate myself these past few years.” he muttered into her ear, breath shaky and languid from the adrenaline rush he experienced.
“I don’t think you know how worried I’ve been for you these past few years.” She replied, her fingers absentmindedly running over her wrist. “I thought I’d meet you on a bridge.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Well, I thought I would.” She shrugged, nudging his hip and motioning him to collect his things.
“Let’s get out of here.” She implied, already shoving her laptop back into her purse.
“But I just got here.” He argued.
“But I just met my soulmate. C’mon, nobody’s going to think you’re a failure.”

Ficlet

Based on x


Sasuke was never much of a party person. It was a myriad of disasters waiting to happen, what with the hordes of people, thundering music, and enough alcohol to kill a blue whale. What was a quiet, reserved introvert supposed to do? Have a conversation with the only interesting thing in the room, the counter? Sasuke doubted he’d even know any people at this place, it was some club that his housemates wanted to spend the rest of the night at. Sasuke was new to the city, he’d moved out to it, across the country from his small hometown, in order to start university. There weren’t any prestigious schools back home, you see, and if Sasuke had any hope of making it in the competitive world, he’d have to suck it up and figure out how to make it in the city life. Luckily, his major was psychology, where his career goal was to become an adolescent psychologist. His work and study loads were often too hefty for him to have any downtime, much less social time.

So, he had to ask himself, why had he allowed his housemates to drag him all the way out here to some club he’d never heard of? Was it because Karin kept begging him to get out and enjoy life? Was it to make Suigetsu stop teasing him for being so introverted and shut in? Or, was Sasuke hoping this single, cautious venture would get his friends off his back? The answer was, ding ding ding, all three. The chances were slim, but hey, a guy can hope, can’t he? Karin said she’d been to the club a couple of times before, though it was fairly new, and she swore up and down it was a cool place. Flashy lights, good dancing music, great drinks, and an assortment of people to mingle around. For Karin, it sounded great. For Sasuke, it sounded like a nightmare. A bunch of sweaty bodies grinding against yours, a headache from the booming music, and hardly enough air in the room for everyone to breathe, nightmare. Sasuke had gotten used to hearing that he should “leave his comfort zone” and try new things, but for god’s sake, wasn’t moving hours away from home all on his own to start a demanding new life enough? That was a pretty damn far leap out of comfort for anyone!

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Candy Hearts | Do Kyungsoo (EXO)

Originally posted by letmecumbaek

Ch. 1

Genre: Candy Store Worker! AU, fluff

Word Count: 2493

Summary: You had always thought that candy was the sweetest thing in the world, until you met Do Kyungsoo.

A/N: This wasn’t requested, I just wanted to write a oneshot because I absolutely adore Do Kyungsoo. Except now I’m thinking about turning it into a series. Feedback would be greatly appreciated!


Kyungsoo had never been a major fan of sweets, and the only reason he had agreed to apply for the open position at the candy store, was because his friend said that he was guaranteed to get the job. Working at SM Sweets was supposed to be a temporary job, a couple months at the most when he was promised that the barista position at the local café would be available then. Yet, as soon as he stepped inside the brightly-colored store filled with all types of candy and giggling children along with it, he knew right then and there that he wasn’t going to leave.

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