The Invasive Music meme

[ohohohoho]

♫~The Invasive Music meme~♫


There you are minding your own business when all of a sudden... music. Music that everybody can hear. Maybe the theme is meaningful... a manifestation of a person's philosophy or worldview given song, or maybe it's there to pump you up while you do something heroic, or maybe it's just there to piss you off.

Regardless, the music is there, and the music is not going away.

How this works

• Post with a character, and include name, canon, and preferences.
• Within the contents include the song that is currently haunting your character
• You may also include the scenario they find themselves in, if you like. At work? At the library? During an awesome montage? Anything is fair game.
• Or if you are feeling really bold leave the space blank and let somebody choose a song for your character.
• Other characters can come by and hear and respond to the music that is playing.
• Have fun and tag around!

Comments

Shovel Knight || that game with his name

[shovelry]

[ You'll hear his music as he energetically runs on by. Location isn't important - out in the fields, through a crowded room, in the goddamn library - he's running with a purpose.

... Hey, at least it's pretty solid music, all things considered. ]

don't mind Mr Grumpypants here; he's a lame-arse who *hates* loud music! xD i ❤ it, though!

[discipuluschaos]

[oh, Goddammit...! What on *earth* is that god-awful *sound*, and where is it even *coming* from?]

God *damn* it...!

Can't you see that people here are trying to *read*?

[Unfortunately, Matthew Selwyn here is the only one who seems to be attempting to read, rather than just jamming along (or cheering along!) to the MIDI file playing loud and clear through the hall...!]

Selwyn | Harry Potter | OTA

[discipuluschaos]

[If anyone around him should have their sense of hearing intact, well... this song should fix that for you, right fast...! lol~ Or even this one! (Or, you know, if you have something better suited to a *literally* Death-Eating Catholic, let me know; I *love* hearing new tunes, for serious!)

*Anyway*, needless to say, but -- he is *not* impressed with his mun's god's choice of Soundtrack for his Life...! lol~]

John Lugo | Spec Ops: The Line | OTA

[scout_tactical]

[ Lugo has had a song stuck in his head. It's been stuck there for a very long time... and it doesn't matter that he's just here in his apartment with the front door wide open while he cleans, screaming it out at the top of his lungs. He's always doing stuff like that.

Really, to be fair, at this point, he's no longer cleaning so much as he's sock surfing across the hardwood floors in nothing but knee-high socks and his army-issue briefs, air-guitaring on the broom while the stereo blasts behind him.

Have fun with that. ]

"Touching you~~~~"

[bonking]

[ LOUD BANGING FROM THE FLOORBOARDS although possibly not as loud as the stereo. Unless the man is around where it's being hit, he probably won't feel the vibration either. Oh, but if that noise keeps up, he's gonna feel somethin' soon enough.

How poor of a bastard is John Lugo? ]

[scout_tactical]

[ John Lugo may not be particularly poor, in a literal sense, but he is a generally sorry bastard for sure. He bangs back a bit, probably completely unintentionally, and slides to the living room to resume his stupidity, sweeping a little dust onto the balcony where an area rug hangs precariously over the railing.

There is an air of "come and get me" to all of this, while he continues to howl, unnervingly in key. ]

[bonking]

[ And a normal person, in their normal anger, would probably storm up to the floor above to give that loud jerk a piece of their mind, where they'd then find the door conveniently open.

But Scout's a crazy bastard whose usual nine to five consists of running through a bullet-filled battlefield with a bat and a scattergun. Or, you know, sometimes just a bottle of milk. He's also got the legs of a gazelle.

So while Lugo's out on his balcony, maybe he catches a blue blur out of the corner of his eye just in time to see a stringy bastard in a Patriots jersey and a milkman's cap launch himself up from the balcony below and to the right. In one hand, he's got an aluminum bat, but that's not the one Lugo should concern himself with right this second.

Cuz the other one's got a half gallon carton of milk, and that's the one that swings when Scout catches sight of the near-naked, inconsiderate bastard. Think fast or get pelted, Lugo. The force is enough to make the poor little carton explode on impact either way.

And with that distraction launched, he's got a hand free to grab the railing of the aforementioned balcony, but Scout doesn't plan to hang there long.

♫ I BELIEVE IN A THING CALLED LOOOOOVVVEEE ♫ ]

[scout_tactical]

[ It's like the Matrix. This fucking glitch in the Matrix and time just literally goes into extreme underwater mode. Lugo can almost see the little dubstep wub-wub waves coming off of that goddamn carton of milk. But he's trapped in a time warp with little more to protect him than olive-drab army-issue panties and a corn bristle broom that has the relative accuracy of a virgin's money shot.

Said poor little carton approaches with menacing slowness caught up in this mad trap of adrenaline. The broom swings and completely misses it's intended mark, but perhaps fills the intruder's face with a barrage of straw, but perhaps not. The handle is really only so long, after all. The carton strikes like a meteor, right at the gather of an external oblique, shattering over the deep groove of his v-cut where muscle joins at the iliac crest, and there's a veritable explosion of white liquid. Kind of like a white phosphorus mortar, but cold. Lugo howls his defeat as momentum wins against socked feet and sends him sliding like a madman off of his feet and down onto the milk-sprayed hardwood.

He's only thinking about how he's never going to get the smell out. ]

[bonking]

[ Yeah. Have at thee, motherfucker.

Before Scout can think to be smug, though, he gets a face full of bristle. Fortunately for him, it's more of a panicked swing or his damn fool head would have probably probably spun around and spun him off the balcony. It does succeed in knocking his hat off, revealing a crew cut of dark hair that's beginning to get a little long. Scout sputters a second, but he never stops moving. He's over the balcony when Lugo falls down, his own feet bare.

He nimbly seeks to step on, then over Lugo at the collar bone, heading deeper into the apartment towards the source of the music, trailing milky footprints behind him. When he gets there, he sizes up the stereo while he lazily begins to wind up the bat. As Scout slowly leans back and pulls his bat towards his shoulder, he casts a look over at Lugo, a crooked little grin beginning to crawl across his face. Gotta make sure he's got an audience when he destroys something beautiful, if not offer him an opportunity to beg. ]

[scout_tactical]

[ Oh man... this really is coming to an ugly head. Getting stepped on (much as it actually does kind of hurt) doesn't particularly bother him, but when he sees that baseball bat, he freezes. He knows where this is going... and maybe this skinny little prick think's he's dropping the Bomb here... but Lugo is a whole other animal. He flips, though a little clumsily in the slippery puddle left over from the initial attack. In a crouch, he points, dark eyes narrowed. ]

Go ahead, punk. You just bash it if that's what you want... but by god, I'll make you regret it.

[ He doesn't entirely sound like he's joking. But... well... Special Forces and all. He can joke, just doesn't all that often in these sorts of situations. ]

[bonking]

WHASSAT? YOU SAYIN' SOMETHIN'?

[ Get it? Because this music is loud as fuck and he can hear it downstairs. But Scout gets it, really, more from the other man's posture than his words. It's a threat.

He winks.

Then he swings.

Just short of the stereo, though, he slows his bat to a stop and just gently taps the volume knob, tapping off the music. Bap.

As he turns towards Lugo, his smile totally drops off into something more serious, though. He jabs a finger at him. ]

You come between me and the Pats again, buddy, I'm gonna wreck ALL your stuff. Got that? Red Sox and the Yankees play startin' at 7 this Thursday and Friday. You interrupt that, I'll fuckin' hurt ya. Be a good neighbor, asshole.

[ That said, Scout turns on his heel and starts for the open door. On the way, though, he's gonna make a pit-stop off at Lugo's fridge to see if there's any milk that can't replace what he threw at his neighbor.

[scout_tactical]

[ For all of a minute, he's bunched to pounce into action, but then things just kind of... well... they go low key... And Lugo's left crouched, kind of wondering what the fuck all just happened. He stands up, and as the guy makes a bee-line to go to his fridge, he follows, dripping milk everywhere, kind of unsure of what to think, standing there in his soggy underwear with a welt starting to rise on his side where the milk carton struck him. ]

There's uh... beer in the crisper.

[ He's not entirely sure what to think about this whole exchange... but yeah... it's definitely been a doozy so far. ]

Sevenish? Should I bring hot-wings?

[ It's mostly a joke. Mostly. ]

[bonking]

[ Scout has a sense of humor well enough - he also doesn't need a damn lawsuit or to find a new apartment, if he can help it. Yeah, he's got the money to shack up almost anywhere, but he's used to modest means and he's away enough that buying a new place would be one hell of a hassle. Besides, if he was like Demo and bought himself a goddamn mansion, he'd have to hire servants and... maybe later.

Anyway, he isn't afraid to recoup his losses. He tenses initially as Lugo comes up behind him, expecting a fight, but that goes out when the other man tells him where the beer is. He'll pick up one of those cans too, stuffing it in his pocket.

He turns, eying the other man up. Hotwings, he says. ]

Yeah, alright. I got seven brothers, though, and any one of 'em could show up. You want any of them wings, you better plan ahead.

[ Probably none of them will show up. Half of those boys have family and he's a little from Boston besides. Still, some extra wings can't hurt. ]

You finish up and wanna come watch the game.. [ A slightly nonchalant sniff. ] I'm downstairs.

[ And taking your shit, bye. ]

[fallstheshadow]

[Honestly, the music and singing goes on a lot longer than it technically should have. There's an expanse of time between when the karaoke starts and when Walker comes through the archway from the kitchen area behind Lugo, clothes basket stacked high on one shoulder.

Walker opens his mouth to reprimand Lugo about the noise, but hesitates when he realizes that Lugo is dancing (with a broom, no less) in nothing but socks and underwear. The surprise stifles his call, and he resigns himself to stand there, looming in the doorway, thinking maybe Lugo will turn around and see him.

He stands there a good while. The clothes basket doesn't bother him, but the waiting does. His voice sounds like rocks inside of a cocktail tumbler, and he raises it over the din of music.] Lugo.

[scout_tactical]

[ Lugo's right in the middle of a good falsetto wail, stops abruptly and turns around with the gawky awkwardness of a 26-year-old who might actually feel a little bit of shame for his nakedness. He'd forgotten Walker was there. Right uh... plan B? He smiles like an idiot and waves a little, putting some oomph into a little bit of hip shaking and points over his shoulder to where the doorway of his bedroom lies open and inviting. ]

You didn't have to fold it, you know...

[ He sounds pretty thankful through all the clatter, at least... ]

[fallstheshadow]

[He thinks he shouldn't be surprised, but he is surprised anyway. He's pretty much always surprised when it comes to Lugo trying to be a normal human being in society. Don't try to tempt him with the hip swing either.]

I had to fold it so you would finally put some clothes on. [He shifts the basket off his shoulder and lowers it down to the floor. He points at Lugo and then at the basket--get some damn clothes on, it says. Meanwhile, he makes a quick beeline for the radio in order to turn it down some. Can't have, you know, neighbors leaping from the balcony and tossing milk at them for blasting music.]

[scout_tactical]

[ A little perturbed are we? Better fix that. Lugo smirks a bit and practically sashays over, turns before he bends to pick through the folded clothes, giving Walker the full view of his glorious butt, crack and all. He's always been the shameless type, of course. ]

Think I should actually get dressed?

[ He peeks over his shoulder, smirking like an idiot. ]

[fallstheshadow]

[Walker side-eyes the very, indeed, shameless display of assets.] Are you really going to walk around all day with nothing on but socks and underwear?

[He narrows his eyes when Lugo looks back at him. A different tactic then:] So I washed and folded all those clothes for nothing....

[scout_tactical]

I'd thought about it...

[ He smirks and picks through all the clothes there for him to think about, finally wriggles into a shirt and a pair of shorts - ranger panties, actually - so there isn't really much difference from when he was lounging around in his underwear. He gives a little shake and then settles in, smirking. ]

I'd think you know where my dresser is by now... just drop all that off over there. I'm gonna finish sweeping and get some mopping done.

[ The mix will change soon, too... and he has a feeling he knows what will come on next. ]

i told you i got an idea.

[militants]

[ chris is used to noise pollution. really, it's nothing new to him at all – but it's usually in the form of gunfire and exploding grenades and the grinding-growling lull of j'avo dragging themselves across the ground once he's put a few dozen bullets in them and they still won't die.

the fact that this time around it's in the form of what sounds like a cat screeching as it's put through a meat grinder is a little more surprising than it should be. ( because really, is there anything left to surprise him, even in the slightest? )

he passes by the open door on his way to his own apartment, doesn't think about turning around and yet somehow ultimately does, squinting around the door frame and catching sight of the one doing the singing, eyes narrowing even further. huh. so it isn't a cat. or a zombie.

the fact that the guy is in nothing but standard-issue boxers, air-guitaring with a broom should be embarrassing enough – but being caught right in the act, well. let's see how that goes. ]

Got a habit of leaving doors open?

Oh you~ :'3

[scout_tactical]

[ The soldier startles a bit, but smiles in the stranger's general direction, hamming it up with his broom guitar for a moment, swinging his hips with the sort of flexibility you generally don't see in men. ]

Only when I'm cleaning. This place doesn't really got much in the way of tenants just yet. So I can usually get away with it.

[ He eases back a bit, then and sets his broom aside, smirking lazily, dark eyes narrowed down so much they just look like slits, really. He runs a hand over his shaved scalp - noting that his hair is getting pretty long, but not quite long enough to bother shaving just yet. ]

So, to whom do I owe the pleasure?