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#zee machine
seattledaddyintraining · 11 months
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Thirst trapping to tell you to listen to and support my friend @zeemachine.
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masoupe · 1 year
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- vol 58 - YOU DON’T FUCK UP THE FINAL CRY FOR THE MAIN BEIGE DADDY
XXANNY - griddy nutcracker ETHAN BORTNICK - engravings DEV LEMONS - autopilot ZEE MACHINE - habit LEWIS TAYLOR - final hour SEVANA - lowe mi DOUNIA - f.ck me eyes CLAUDE FONTAINE - cry for another SERPENTWITHFEET - you don’t own me / canopy EMMA DONOVAN & THE PUTBACKS - my goodness KHRUANGBIN + LEON BRIDGES - B-side ORIANE LACAILLE + PIERS FACCINI - ode au doute KING MALA - she calls me daddy SIRENS OF LESBOS - cobra LEAH KATE - fuck up the friendship ROSSE - main character KIRBY - coconut oil KAINA - apple MYSIE - gin + juice COCO O. + CTM + YDEGIRL - beige barley
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enchantedtalisman · 11 months
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thunderheadfred · 1 year
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I want my next manicure to look the way this sounds
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winter-tospring · 1 year
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fiddleabout · 2 years
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an-onyx-void · 20 days
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@/zeemachine on Instagram
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notesofseptember · 26 days
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Don't make me swallow my pride
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stolligaseptember · 27 days
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bets on if zee machine and bentley robles' new collaboration will be my most played song this year too
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poprocklyrics · 1 month
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I cut my teeth by living fiction I wined and dined with my addiction And I can′t say no when you tell me you want me I'd sell my soul but you already bought me
Dangerous, ZEE MACHINE
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bagrisham · 1 year
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Song of the Day: Everybody Wants It
Song of the Day: Everybody Wants It - Wrap me up in a nameless color. Brighter than gold.
Today’s song is Everybody Wants It by Zee Machine & Kelechi. Pop. Fast paced and loaded with synth. The vocals are great too. What’s not to love? Yeah, there isn’t much to the lyrics, but the sentiment is sweet. Starlight. Brighter than the moonlight Warmer than the hottest summer. Treasure so rare.  The straight-forward backing drums give heavier focus to how the vocals flow. This…
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anasui-at-disneyland · 8 months
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You guys feel like Animation will have some pattern on the 2020´s ?
Because I think redheads protagonists/co-protagonists might be it.
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viric-dreams · 1 month
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Grand Geode, 1883. Lieutenant Roberts sees a familiar face. Or at least something wearing that face.
There’s a storm coming. Heat and humidity hang in the air, adding strain to each breath. Sweat pools at the back of Roberts’ neck, the droplets sliding down the curve of his spine beneath his uniform. He does his best to ignore the discomfort, gripping the folder in his hands yet tighter as he follows a familiar set of turns down the hall to the Commodore’s office.
In a previous life, he may have regarded his current position as gruntwork–dull, administrative minutia, a world away from any action on the Zee, but in moments like these he finds he doesn’t mind. Any moment now, the heat will break, and the Zee will roil under a torrent of foetid-smelling rain, befouled by the Wax Wind. He does not envy the men on their ships when the storm inevitably hits. Carrying documents up the chain is fine by him, if it means stable stone under his dry feet, and a bed that does not sway with the tides. 
He turns the corner, and before his hand can even touch the office door, Roberts feels the sudden charge in the air, white-hot and electric, and the hairs on his arms stand on end. The sensation calls back to something familiar, half-forgotten in the back of his mind. He wonders if he should leave, perhaps come back later. But before he has time to properly question it, the Commodore’s voice rings out through the door, as if able to sense his presence through the thick wood.
“Who’s there?” 
“It’s Lieutenant Roberts, sir,” he says. 
The Commodore is silent for a beat, then answers softly, as if forgetting the heavy door between them.
“Elias, why don’t you come in.” 
It’s not framed as a question. And so he does.
The Commodore sits at his desk, in the exact position where Roberts has seen him hundreds of times before. But this time is different. This time, he has a visitor. Radiant. That’s the only way he can think of to describe her. A singular point in the centre of the room, the axis around which so many golden threads warp and turn. She does not look happy to see them. In fact, she doesn’t look much of anything, and he struggles to make out her features through the brilliant haze she emanates. 
“Elias, you remember June, don’t you?” There’s a placidness to the Commodore’s voice that he so rarely hears. The man has not taken his eyes off of June since Roberts had entered the room, and he can hardly do so himself. 
Indeed he remembers her. If he squints into that light he can even make out her features, unchanged from when he’d last seen her, nearly two decades prior. He feels warm. Not the muggy heat smothering Zelo’s Town, but a glow, spreading from within his chest out into his limbs. 
“Of course,” he says. How could he forget?
June does not greet him. She does not take her eyes off of the serene face of the Commodore. When her mouth opens, the sound that comes out is otherworldly, timbres not possible on human vocal chords. The sound reverberates through Roberts’ body, like the bass tones of chugging machinery.
It was something of importance. He’s sure of it. She wouldn’t be here, speaking to him, to them, to the Commodore, were it not. A Zee captain will return, and when they do, the Admiralty will be ready. She leaves her instructions. Her voice is so warm, all-encompassing, a rumbling static beating a tune against his eardrums. He will complete the Work. Whatever it is she needs, he will do. They will do. 
He tells her this. At least, he thinks he does. Whether or not he speaks the words out loud she must know this of him. Her eyes are on the Commodore, whose head nods in a slow daze. Of course they can manage. He’ll personally ensure they have the supplies they need. More heat. Pride, this time, that they can do what she requests of them. 
And then she turns to him, golden eyes boring directly through him, setting him alight. Her lips open to speak and–
He comes to at a raucous peel of thunder. June is long gone, and he shivers at the unexpected cold left by her absence, despite the muggy air. Yet despite the chill of her absence, he feels… calm. A slow satisfaction at having done… something right. At least, he feels so. Something worthwhile. 
It’s only several minutes later, when he stands under the building’s awning, the rhythm of rain pounding a frenetic drumbeat into the steel roof, that he realises he’s still clutching the missive meant for the Commodore.
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commoninfected · 3 months
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LEGION OF UNDEAD lol
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dawn-path · 8 months
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so every other nondescript-machine lover talked to the commodore first thing and was instantly blasted with copious levels of unwise "what-ifs", right?
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purple-dahlias · 2 years
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florence gets it.
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