#and deserve to be played on the radio for the music itself and not to sell you Car

[deliciousmicroplastics]

some of the best of modern music is being wasted on ads

[theetherealbloom]

That's So True

Summary: You write a song about Hugh Jackman because you made it out alive.

Or… But you know, what you know, and he’s just another dude, ooh, that’s so true.

Paring: Hugh Jackman x Singer F!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, Tiny Fluff, Kissing, Break-Up, Hurt, Homewrecking Allegations, Cheating Allegations (not towards the reader), Good For Her(you) trope, Mean!Hugh Jackman, Gossip, Media, Paparazzi, Crowds, Concerts, Confrontation, Drama, Arguments, Real People Fiction

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Sigh, I saw the news/picture today :,)) *BLASTS THAT’S SO TRUE ON REPEAT* I have ideas hehe. Again, this is all fictional so shhHhhHh I have no beef with Hugh or Sutton. I am indifferent or in denial whatever works LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: That’s So True - Live From Radio City Music Hall by Gracie Abrams

| Main Masterlist |

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when you first met Hugh, seated at a small café tucked into a bustling New York street. The air smelled of roasted coffee and faintly of rain. You were there with a mutual friend, but the moment Hugh walked in, the world seemed to tilt.  

He was magnetic in a way that defied logic. His laugh came easily, rich and unguarded, and his charm could’ve disarmed anyone. But you noticed something else—a subtle weight behind his words, the kind of heaviness only someone carrying unseen scars could have.  

“You’re easy to talk to,” he said, his smile soft but his eyes searching yours as if testing the waters of vulnerability.  

By the time the coffee cups were empty, you felt it—an unspoken connection that left you both lingering, unwilling to part.  

Hugh was married then, and you respected that. Over time, your connection deepened into a friendship built on quiet understanding. When his marriage began to crumble, he sought solace in you.  

Late-night calls became your norm, his voice weary on the other end of the line.  

“She says I’m too distant,” he confided one night, his words tinged with frustration. “Maybe she’s right. I don’t know how to be… enough.”  

“You’re more than enough,” you said softly, the sincerity in your voice catching him off guard.  

On a particularly stormy evening, he showed up at your door, soaked to the bone. You handed him a towel and a mug of tea.  

“My house is your house,” you said gently, watching as he lowered himself onto your couch like a man carrying the weight of the world. “You’re always safe here.”  

His gratitude was palpable. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, staring into his tea like it might hold the answers he sought.  

Months passed, and his life began to piece itself back together—or so it seemed. He was Hugh Jackman, after all, the man everyone adored. His career soared, but somewhere along the way, he began shutting people out. You included.  

Fewer texts. Missed dinners. Excuses that felt like thinly veiled walls being built brick by brick. You told yourself he was busy, that it was nothing personal. But deep down, you knew.  

One night, the wall between you crumbled.  

You were sprawled on his couch, an old rom-com playing on the TV. For a few blissful hours, it felt like the early days again. As the credits rolled, you turned to make a joke, but the words never left your lips.  

His gaze was on you, raw and unguarded. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours. It was tentative at first, almost a question. When you didn’t pull away, it deepened, pulling you into the kind of kiss that stole time and left you breathless.  

The next morning, tangled in his sheets, reality weighed heavily on you. He wasn’t ready for this, and maybe you weren’t either. But love doesn’t ask for permission.  

The highs of being with him were intoxicating—quiet mornings, stolen kisses, the way he’d pull you close when the world felt too big. But the lows were suffocating.  

One night, as you sat across from him at his dining table, the weight of it all became too much.  

“I knew this was never supposed to be serious,” you began, your voice trembling. “That we’d end up going our own ways eventually. But I still fell in love with you. I just… I need to know—do you love me, too?” 

Hugh froze. His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his hands as if the answer might be written there.  

“Trust me,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I would love you if I could. But I’m just… not ready. Not after everything that’s happened.”  

The words hit like a blow to the chest, sharp and unforgiving. A bitter laugh escaped your lips as tears blurred your vision.  

“I can’t love you into loving me,” you said, your voice breaking.  

He reached for you then, his eyes pleading. “Please, don’t go. Tell me how I can fix this.”  

You shook your head, stepping back. “You can’t.”  

His face crumpled, but you forced yourself to hold firm.  

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you said, half-sobbing, half-laughing as you wiped at your tears. “God, I wanted this so badly. I wanted you so badly.”  

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”  

You stared at him for a moment longer, memorizing the way his face looked in the dim light of the dining room.  

“Goodbye, Hugh.”  

As you walked out the door, the ache in your chest felt unbearable, but for the first time, you chose yourself. And that had to be enough.  

LONG POND STUDIO, UPSTATE NEW YORK — DAY  

The studio sat nestled in the woods, the floor-to-ceiling windows letting in shards of winter sunlight that painted the room in pale gold. The air was crisp, almost still, save for the soft hum of a guitar and the faint scratching of a pen against paper.  

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a heavy knit sweater hanging loosely off one shoulder, and your journal balanced precariously on your knee. The fire crackled in the corner, but its warmth barely reached the icy knot in your chest.  

“All I ever did was consider you,” you muttered under your breath, the words raw and jagged, “’til all I could do was consider me.”  

Tears streaked your face, but you barely noticed. The pages of your journal blurred as you furiously scribbled down the line, your hand shaking as you wrote it again, harder this time, as if trying to etch it into your soul.  

Across the room, your best friend paused mid-chord, her eyes snapping to you. “Wait!” she exclaimed, setting the guitar aside and bounding over. “Say that again.”  

“What?” you asked, startled.  

“That line. That line,” she said, her voice brimming with urgency. “It’s raw. It’s real. Say it again!”  

You swallowed hard, meeting her gaze as you repeated, “All I ever did was consider you, ’til all I could do was consider me.”  

The words hung heavy in the air, vibrating with a truth that made your chest ache.  

Your best friend clapped her hands together, her grin wide despite the melancholy woven into your tone. “That’s it. That’s the hook.”  

You blinked at her. “You think so?”  

“I know so.” She grabbed a pen and scrawled the line across a blank sheet of paper, then added, “It’s like... it’s a battle cry. A moment of clarity. God, it’s perfect.”  

A shaky laugh escaped your lips. “It doesn’t feel perfect.”  

“Of course it doesn’t,” she said gently, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Because it’s still fresh. But this? This is how you take all of that and make it yours.”  

You nodded, though the ache in your chest didn’t lessen. “Okay. Let’s do it.”  

The two of you worked tirelessly, piecing together fragments of lyrics, melodies, and memories. Each word felt like a wound reopening, but also like a weight being lifted.  

“Think about that day in New York,” your best friend said at one point, strumming her guitar absentmindedly. “When you saw him again. What did you feel?”  

You closed your eyes, the image flooding back unbidden. The way his eyes had met yours across the room. The way your heart had stuttered, even though it shouldn’t have.  

“I felt... angry,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Angry at him, angry at myself for still caring. And I felt... free, in a way. Like I could finally see it for what it was.”  

She nodded. “Then put that in.”  

You wrote furiously, the lyrics spilling out of you like a confession:  

"Said I was fine, said it from the coffin  

Remember how I died when you started walking?"  

Your best friend looked at the words and let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s brutal.”  

You let out a bitter laugh. “So was he.”  

By the time the session ended, the notebook was filled with scribbled-out lines and circled verses. The final song was an anthem of heartbreak and resilience, a mirror of the journey you’d been on.  

“Do you feel better?” your best friend asked, leaning back against the couch as the last note faded into silence.  

You stared down at the pages, your chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. “No,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But I feel lighter. Like I can finally breathe again.”  

She smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “That’s all that matters.”  

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed her.  

RADIO CITY MUSIC HALL, NEW YORK — NIGHT  

The air in the venue was electric, a crackling tension that felt alive. The sold-out crowd was on their feet, their collective energy buzzing through the walls of the iconic theater. You stepped onto the stage, your acoustic guitar slung over your shoulder like armor.  

The spotlight hit you, momentarily blinding, but grounding you in its heat. You adjusted the mic stand, fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped your hands around the neck of your guitar.  

“This next song…” you began, your voice clear but laced with raw emotion. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out the applause. “This next song means a whole lot to me. I wrote it with my best friend during a time when I was trying to piece myself back together.”  

The room fell silent, anticipation palpable. You took a deep breath and strummed the first chord, the sound slicing through the quiet like a blade. The band joined in, and the melody swelled, filling every corner of the venue.  

You leaned into the mic, your voice low and aching as you began to sing:  

"I could go and read your mind  

Think about your dumb face all the time  

Living in your glass house, I'm outside, uh  

Looking into big blue eyes..."  

The crowd’s voices rose with yours, singing the lyrics back to you. The familiarity of their energy pushed you forward, your voice growing stronger.  

"Did it just to hurt me, make me cry  

Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life..."  

Each lyric was a slice of the pain you’d carried, now stripped bare for the world to witness. But you weren’t afraid. Not anymore.  

As the song built to its bridge, your eyes scanned the crowd, their faces blurring in the haze of lights and movement. And then, you saw him.  

Hugh.  

He was tucked away in the VIP section, half-hidden behind the shadow of a curtain. But you knew it was him—the way he carried himself, the way his gaze felt like a physical weight on your skin.  

Your breath hitched, your fingers faltering for the briefest second before muscle memory kicked in. Your voice didn’t waver as you locked eyes with him and sang the words you’d never been able to say out loud:  

"What'd she do to get you off? (Uh-huh)  

Taking down her hair like, oh my God  

Taking off your shirt, I did that once  

Or twice, uh..."  

The lyrics twisted like a dagger, your tone a perfect balance of bitter and defiant. His expression didn’t change, but you saw his jaw tighten.  

"No, I know, I know I'll fuck off (Uh-huh)  

But I think I like her, she's so fun  

Wait, I think I hate her, I'm not that evolved..."  

The crowd roared, their voices carrying the song forward as you poured everything into the bridge:  

"Made it out alive, but I think I lost it  

Said that I was fine, said it from the coffin  

Remember how I died when you started walking?  

That's my life, that's my life..."  

The spotlight shifted, casting you in stark relief against the darkness. Sweat slicked your brow, but you didn’t care. You leaned into the mic, your voice climbing to its crescendo:  

"I'll put up a fight, taking out my earrings  

Don't you know the vibe? Don't you know the feeling?  

You should spend the night, catch me on your ceiling  

That's your prize, that's your prize..."  

“Mm, bet you're thinking, "She's so cool"

Kicking back on your couch, making eyes from across the room

Wait, I think I've been there too, ooh

Ooh, you've got me thinking, "She's so cool"

But I know what I know and you're just another dude

Ooh, that's so true, ooh, ooh, oh”

The crowd exploded as the final notes reverberated through the theater, applause and cheers drowning out everything else. You took a step back, lowering your guitar as the adrenaline coursed through you.  

The lights dimmed, leaving only your silhouette illuminated in the glow of a single spotlight.  

Hugh was still watching, his eyes dark and unreadable, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, your chest heaving, before turning away.  

This was your moment. He was part of your story, but he didn’t own it anymore.  

You had made it out alive.  

BACKSTAGE — EVENING

The adrenaline from the stage was still coursing through your veins when your assistant appeared in the doorway, her expression uneasy.  

"There's someone here to see you," she said cautiously.  

You didn’t need her to say who. The knot in your stomach told you everything.  

“No,” you said quickly. “Tell him I’m busy. I don’t want to see him.”  

Your assistant hesitated but nodded, slipping back out. You exhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself, but you barely had a moment to breathe before the door opened again.  

And there he was.  

Hugh stood in the doorway, looking disheveled in a way you’d never seen before. His usually polished demeanor was gone—his hair slightly messy, his jacket wrinkled like he’d been pacing or wrestling with himself.  

Your assistant hovered behind him, mouthing, I’m sorry, before quietly shutting the door to give you privacy.  

Your heart raced, anger and longing swirling in equal measure.  

“Are you trying to make me hate you?” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.  

His eyes met yours, desperate and tired. “I just need to talk to you. Please.”  

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Talk? Here? Where you’ve ambushed me after a show, where I’m supposed to be celebrating with people who actually care about me?”  

“I care about you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “You know I do.”  

“Do I?” you shot back, your voice rising. “Because it feels like you only show up when it’s convenient for you. When you need something.”  

“That’s not fair,” he said, stepping closer. You took a step back.  

“What’s not fair is you thinking you can waltz in here and expect me to drop everything because you suddenly decided you want to talk.”  

He flinched at your words but didn’t back down. “I messed up. I know I did. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix it—how to fix us.”  

“There is no ‘us,’” you said, your voice trembling. “Not anymore. Not after you made it so damn clear I was never enough for you.”  

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’ve always been more than enough. I was the one who wasn’t ready, who couldn’t…”  

“Couldn’t what?” you interrupted, your anger boiling over. “Couldn’t love me? Couldn’t choose me? Couldn’t figure out how to be honest with yourself and with me?”  

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of your words had finally crushed him.  

You laughed bitterly, wiping at the tears you didn’t want to fall. “You don’t get to do this, Hugh. You don’t get to show up here and act like you’re the one hurting.”  

“I am hurting,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “Every day. I think about you every damn day.”  

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Why didn’t you show me that I mattered to you?”  

He stepped closer again, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t know how. I was scared of losing you, of messing things up even more.”  

You shook your head, tears streaming freely now. “You already lost me. And ambushing me backstage isn’t going to change that.”  

“Please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just give me a chance to explain.”  

You took a shaky breath, every fiber of your being wanting to let him in, to hear him out. But you knew better.  

“Not here,” you said firmly, forcing your voice to steady. “Not like this. Figure your shit out, Hugh. Then maybe we’ll talk. But until then…”  

You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, and turned away from him, your back to the man who had once meant everything to you.  

You didn’t look back, even when you heard the door close softly behind him.

[jewish-vents]

It was truly numbing driving by the anti-Trump protest in my town today (5th of April, when a bunch of people across the US were doing it) and seeing antisemites amongst them and amongst the smaller, much angrier right wing counter-protest. On Park Street, we have the man who didn't hire me because (((you people))) already have all the money you need, the woman who ripped my kippah off and threw it in a drainage pitch, and the teen boys who like to stand outside the library and tell Jewish women they'll rape them. On Main Street, there's the man who tried to get me banned from the public pool post-October 7th because he thinks a bris is a ceremony where Jews suck on baby's dicks, the woman who spat on me for speaking Ladino to my father, and the girl who actually said 'Me Too unless you're a Jew' to me.

My town is ten thousand people. Everyone knows everyone. And everyone I know has shown me I can't trust them. Country music by a musician who wants me dead plays on the radio as I drive by neighbors, classmates and cousins of my former friends who stand to the left and right of me, glaring daggers at me. I feel myself go a little numb to survive. Not dissociation, just a layer of apathy my mind will use to defend itself from this until a time when I feel safe enough to feel the emotions this stirs up in me.

Because, as much as my right wing relatives like to be smug about the left turning on Jews, the reality is that that's a defense mechanism, too. It's a way to keep the trauma at bay. It's a way to keep the enormity of everyone turning on us from hitting. Like my temporary apathy, it is - I'll have to detour here for a second. My mother once explained to me that sometimes, we get hit with so many things that are too big to process, so we put them behind a door in our minds for later. We find something we can use to put a lock on the door. But if the things just keep coming, the lock is now trying to contain a door pushed outwards by too much contained in a single human heart. And one day, the lock shatters, and it all hits at once, and you will sob until you scream, just to get through it all.

The 'haha, you got what you deserved' from other Jewish people is the lock on their door. It will not hold. It cannot. The pain we are in as a people is too immense. Eventually your lock will break. My lock will break. We will all have to really deal with this pain someday. I don't know how, right now.

I don't hate right wing Jews. I don't hate antisemites. I hate the state of the world and the intoxicating nature of hate, the poison you drink hoping someone else will die. I hate that the days I was just a kid illegally driving without a license at 15 because my buddy was drunk and I wouldn't risk him crashing are gone, that night where Park and Main were quiet, orange streetlights going by, illuminating a surprising amount of softness in his expression as he thanked me for the ride, those days? They're gone. A Jimmy Wayne song was playing, the wind was whistling outside the car, he was bundled up in my flannel because his abusive dad had stolen his, and I let him keep it after that, no questions asked. I would give anything to have a moment like that back. I want to go back to the version of life where he puked at Carly's party and I took the blame so he would still have a chance of dating her, maybe. I want to go back to the days where he was like the brother I didn't have. I hate that those days are done.

I hate that I saw him on the right wing side of the counter-protest. I still remember him beating up the guy who bullied me for being into sewing. I remember helping tailor a thrift store suit for him so he could have something nice for the Homecoming dance, the way he stared at himself in the mirror and went, "Oh, shit. It's like I have money." as if having money would make him worth something. I remember telling him, "She's not dating you for the money. She wants a good guy. You've got this."

He gets married to her this November. I have not only not been invited, I have received a letter informing me I am not to attend or send a gift, under any circumstances.

He was my best friend for 18 years. We met when we were 4.

I hate that I can make myself apathetic to everything else in order to survive it, that I can turn off all my feelings, be numb, but not to him. Not to this. I am going to cry the day of the wedding. I am going to remember the sight of him today, in my yellow flannel from all those years ago, and my lock is going to shatter.

No one ever talks about how much losing friends hurts. We talk a lot about romance and family. But losing a friend is losing an era of my life. It is the end of a person I used to be, with him. It's the end of who I thought he was.

My lock is holding. The cracks, though, are beginning to show.

.

[inksoakedparchment]

SILENT NIGHTS

ficmas - day 1

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: fluff

trope: couple goals

word cunt: 700

tw: none

a/n: cutiepie

Snow fell gently over Brooklyn, dusting the streets with a delicate blanket of white. The air was crisp, the kind of cold that turned breaths into puffs of visible warmth. Bucky Barnes stood by the window of his small apartment, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hands. He watched as children below built snowmen and chased each other with playful shrieks, their laughter muted by the glass.

It was Christmas Eve.

The lights on his modest tree blinked unevenly, a secondhand set he’d found at a thrift store. The tree itself was a little crooked, decorated with mismatched ornaments—some bought, some handmade by you when you insisted on adding a personal touch. It wasn’t much, but it felt like something. It felt… alive.

You were in the kitchen, humming softly to a holiday tune playing on the radio. The smell of freshly baked cookies drifted into the living room, warm and inviting. Bucky smiled to himself. You had insisted on making Christmas special this year, dragging him to tree lots, baking late into the night, and even convincing him to hang a wreath on the front door.

“Stop brooding,” you teased, stepping into the room with a plate of cookies in hand. You nudged his shoulder gently as you set them on the coffee table.

“I’m not brooding,” he replied, though his lips twitched upward.

“You’re standing by a window with that look on your face.”

He shook his head, setting his coffee down to pull you into his arms. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

He rested his chin on top of your head, the warmth of you against him chasing away the lingering chill. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Good thoughts.”

You pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, your expression soft. “This is nice, isn’t it? Just us. No missions, no chaos.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s nice.”

But the weight of the season wasn’t entirely lost on him. Christmas always brought a mix of emotions—reminders of a time when he was whole, of family and traditions he’d lost long ago. Yet, standing here with you, he felt something he hadn’t in decades: peace.

“Hey,” you said gently, noticing the distant look in his eyes. “Come here.”

You led him to the couch, sitting down and patting the spot beside you. Bucky followed, letting you pull a blanket over both of you. The cookies sat untouched for now as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Do you ever think about what Christmas used to be like?” you asked after a moment.

“All the time,” he admitted. “But it’s not the same anymore. Too much has changed.”

“Not everything,” you said, lacing your fingers with his. “The important things are still here.”

Bucky looked down at your joined hands, then at the way you gazed at him with such unwavering warmth. He’d spent so long running, so long convincing himself he didn’t deserve this. But you were here, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“Yeah,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “The important things.”

The radio shifted to a slower song, a gentle rendition of Silent Night. You stood, offering your hand to him with a playful smile. “Dance with me?”

Bucky chuckled. “You know I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Then we’ll just sway,” you countered, tugging him to his feet.

Reluctantly, he let you pull him close, his arms wrapping around your waist as yours rested on his shoulders. You swayed gently to the music, the room filled with the soft glow of the Christmas tree and the quiet hum of the song.

For a moment, Bucky closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the moment settle deep in his chest. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier here, wasn’t the broken man haunted by a century of pain. He was just Bucky, standing in his living room with the person who made him believe in second chances.

When the song ended, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

He smiled against your lips, his voice low and sincere. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

And for the first time in years, Christmas didn’t feel lonely. It felt like home.

taglist: @sunkissedscribbles @kandis-mom @idkkkkkkk123lgb @nottslvttt

[two-dolla-bills]

Top 10 mechanisms songs that you can get away with playing at a retailers without too many side eyes

I got a job in retail and I felt inspired lol

Disclaimer: this is not a list of the best mechanisms songs/the ones I think deserve to go "mainstream", they're just the ones that would blend in the best

1. Sirens

This song is probably the mechanisms' least "centered" song. It doesn't mention any characters, it has no narration, and out of context it just sounds like A Song that you might hear on the radio. Sirens is to the mechanisms as you're the one that I want is to grease, you know?

2. Trial by song

THIS one. It's in the same category to me as Sirens; you can listen to it by itself and not suspect much. Unlike Sirens which can be completely separated and still make sense, this one is more like a whole new world from Aladdin. There are parts that make it obvious that it's from a larger whole, but if you just so happen to catch the "safe" parts you won't suspect much.

Points were deducted due to Mr. Soldier's unique vocals. (Unique as in not very common in mainstream music)

3. Empty trail

This is no offense to Dr. La Cognizzi, but sometimes when she sings it's hard to make out what she's saying, which works in her favor in these circumstances. It sounds country/rock, which help it blend in with some dad rock songs. If I remember correctly, the melody was actually taken from a Led Zeppelin song, so if you aren't paying attention to what's ACTUALLY being said you can get away with claiming it's a cover.

4. Ties that bind

Although this one does mention many plot points, many fans have stated that they had no idea what the fuck was being said until the have looked for the lyrics (myself included) this, combined with it's jazzy rythm, make it able to blend in with other songs, similarly to empty trail

5. Odin

The most "normal" song out of the entirety of The Bifrost Incident. This song made it to the top five because it has similarities with Roam by the B-52's, but had points deducted due to it clearly being about an awesome space train

6. Lost in the cosmos

This might just be personal opinion, but it sounds like a church song. You can pull off the effect of it being about earth Jesus and not space robot Jesus if you have particularly bad quality speakers and a busy store w/lots of noise. Again, the lyrics kinda give it away as to not being entirely main stream

7. Stranger

Look it's a banger, ok? Many of the lyrics could be taken as just being metaphors, but I feel like you have to squint to "see" it. Pay too much attention and shit gets a little weird. Also, points deducted because it's two men singing together and not a man and a woman, which throws a wrench into the works. At kohl's it might raise some eyebrows but in like hot topic it'll blend in a little better

8. Redeath

You would think a song about a sphoenix (space phoenix) would be lower on the list but you'd be wrong. It's a really pretty song with a good original melody, and it's something that can be drowned out by a particularly rowdy crowd. Like Stranger, it would blend in better at a hot topic than at kohl's, but only slightly.

9. Elysian Fields

The melody in Elysian Fields is taken directly from the song wayfaring stranger, which has been coverd by Jonny Cash, Ed Sheeran, Poor Man's Poison, and The Longest Johns, AS WELL HAS having been featured in the movie 1917 and in the video game The Last of Us II, which make it very recognizable. Because of this recognizability, people who know the original song may be caught off guard by hearing it in a Walmart with completely different lyrics. It was originally in 7th place, but the popularity of the original takes off many points

10. Once and future king

It's a banger, don't get me wrong, but it also very heavily and clearly mentions plot points from the album, which itself is heavily base on Aurtharian mythology; something very well known in the western world (also the names are not common at all and most haven't been in fashion in centuries). In a crowded, busy space with not very good quality speakers it could potentially blend in, but one or two names might sneak out. The only reason it's on the list is because of the instrumental outro, which sounds normal enough

[fuckitpossumorb]

A little detail I love about SDR is how seemingly every me ever of the Rhapsody that flies ships has their own personal radio/music system. Even Leboosh who just fucks around in a massive suit has a little radio playing his silly tunes in the vacuum of space.

It’s just such a funny little detail, the Rhapsody itself also seems to have its intercom system rigged to play Rett’s personal playlist, something he probably did way before the first member of the crew joined.

I just love it so much, I bet every crew mate has their own little personal music player in their room, maybe Kavir has a little portable radio he keeps from his time in Zahra Dune, I can vividly picture Pyke with a Walkman (of the sci-if equivalent of), Dandy deserves a record player, Chuckles is his own soundboard.

Plus! They all probably have different tastes! They seem to enjoy Rett’s old school rock enough, but Leboosh seems to prefer more chill calm music, like ballads (I can’t remember the specific songs he is mentioned listening too but I remember they’re pretty chill), so I can bet the rest of the crew listens to their own silly playlists!

Music transcends all. Even in the expanse of space there is always time to jam.

[wormdebut]

13 for the wrapped game, also, you're wonderful and talented. as if spotify wrapped itself wasn't already great, now we get new worm words from it, hell Y E A H

Oh BOY LEX. Do I have a MESS of a Blurb for YOU. #13 on my Spotify Wrapped is Barbie & Ken by Scene Queen and Set It Off. Enjoy whatever this is.

——

"Eddie!" Chrissy squeals over the radio bluetooth and Eddie can't help the smile that break across his face.

"Hey Chris! How's my best girl?" Eddie hadn't seen his best friend in months. She had gone off to IU and Eddie had stayed in Chicago working on a tattoo apprenticeship.

They had both been so busy, Eddie with his work and Chrissy was busy with college and--well Chrissy had apparently went a gotten herself involved with a metal band? Eddie was very confused about the specifics, but he had finally gotten some time off and Chrissy's band had a gig in Indianapolis tonight so, they were making a vacation of it.

"I'm so excited you're coming tonight! The band is so excited to meet you! Even though they've seen pictures, they are convinced I made you up!" Chrissy giggles and Eddie laughs with her.

"Yeah, I'm sure they think I'm a garbage best friend, but I'm gonna be the loudest motherfucker there, I swear to god. First round after the shows on me!"

Chrissy keeps laughing. "I'm glad you said it, cause Stevie was already telling everybody that my imaginary best friend had the honors of first round anyway."

Chrissy had told Eddie about Stevie. Going on, and on about her. 'Stevie is a fucking musical genius.' 'You won't believe what Stevie came up with today.' 'God, I can't wait for you and Stevie to meet, you guys are gonna hit it off immediately.' He was glad that Chrissy had found a girlfriend, she deserves the best, but Eddie would have to lay it on think when he met this Stevie chick. Make sure that she takes care of his girl.

Chrissy was a raging lesbian and Eddie was Kinsey six gay, but they were platonic soulmates until death and Stevie is gonna have to know that Eddie will kill for Chrissy Cunningham.

The bar was fucking packed. Christ. Eddie should be jealous. Before he had started tattooing he had always wanted to play music, but, shit. He was just fucking proud of Chrissy.

After he had kicked back of few shots of whiskey he was able to push his way up to the front of the crowd just as the stage lights started going haywire. The crowd was yelling and Eddie lost his shit when Chrissy came strutting out in a hot pink skater dress and chunk black doc martens. Her hair was pulled into ridiculously perky pigtails. How this was going to be a metal performance Eddie was very unsure, but he was excited as fuck to see her in anyway.

"Hiya Indy!" Chrissy yells. Eddie yells back with the audience and Chrissy squeals in the mic when she sees Eddie cheering for her. "Hi Eds!" She runs up grabbing his hand and Eddie laughs, squeezing her hand quickly, before she pulls away. "I'm Chrissy Cunningham and me and my band Versailles are super excited to be back here. Well, without further ado my boys are gonna come out here and we'll get this party started huh?"

The crowd goes wild and Eddie watches as three men come running out. There's a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist. Eddie is stoked as hell. Watching as Chrissy hypes up the band. He hears someone in the crowd yell "Where's Steve?"

Chirssy ears perk up. "Stevie? Oh I'm sure Stevie's around here somewhere let me just--" She pulls out a hot pink flip phone. Eddie lets out a loud laugh as he recognizes the damn thing as Chrissy's first phone, from seventh grade. His laughter is cut short as a dial tone starts playing over the speakers

It's a bit.

"Hi Stevie! I--I mean Ken…Um…Are you free right now? I have a song that I need you on. Like now?" Chrissy speaks into the microphone, and the crowd zeroes in on Chrissy as she 'calls' for Stevie. Eddie is so busy being impressed with his best friends stage presence he almost misses the smoke show that comes running out from stage right.

He's pretty sure he should pick his fucking jaw up from the floor. The man has on the tightest jeans Eddie has ever seen tucked into clunky combat boots, framing his ass…quite nicely. His hair is styled far too perfect for a metal show, but Eddie is not complaining. The kicker though, is the hot pink tactical vest he has on over his shirtless, very hairy--fuck--chest. Is this a concert or is this one of Eddie's fucked up sexual fantasies?

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide as he stares at Chrissy and…Stevie.

Oh Shit.

Eddie watches as Stevie--Steve--the source of Eddie's very confused boner right now--whatever the hell his name is--pulls the flip phone out of her hand and leans into the mic.

They both smile right at Eddie. He swears he sees Chrissy wink.

"Let's Party."

Eddie is both entertained and internally tormented throughout the rest of the show. Chrissy knew exactly what she was doing, forgetting to mention that Stevie was a) A man and b) exactly Eddie's fucking type.

Eddie liked pretty boys, and apparently this pretty boy knew how to scream, which--that was--that was doing for Eddie.

Throughout the show Eddie picked up that Chrissy did a fair amount of clean vocals and Steve did a mix between cleans and screaming. Versailles as a whole was actually pretty good, but Eddie was going to have to apologize to Chrissy, because he only had eyes for Steve.

Should he be embarrassed for popping a boner at his apparently metalheaded best friends show? Probably, but--he was not. Steve was fucking hot.

He was also a fucking menace. He kept running up to Eddie, grabbing at his hands, leaning down to scream in his fucking face, and Chrissy, when she caught him doing it, just smirked.

Eddie was gonna kill her.

Eddie leaned against the bar, waiting as the crowd around Versailles died down and spread out. He caught Chrissy's eye as she hopped off the stage running up to Eddie at full speed. She jumped into his arms, "Eddieee!"

Eddie huffed out a laugh. "You have so much explaining to do." He whispered into her ear.

Chrissy just laughed as Eddie set her down, smiling from ear to ear. "Yeah, and I think you owe a pretty boy a drink."

[manias-wordcount]

View of Paradise (Satoru Gojo x Reader) PART TWO

[𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔 𝘼𝙐]

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗼𝗵 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝗶 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀 (𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗱𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄. 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲? 𝗶 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗟𝗢𝗟). 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗽 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼. 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗮 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝟰𝟳.

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗽 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝟰𝟬 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀-𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗽 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗴 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆. 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢

<< 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃 || 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 || 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 >>

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

For the remainder of the day, you’re not in the best mood. But you try your hardest to be the best server you can possibly be either way.

  It’s no surprise to everyone when your shoulders start to slump, and your customer service smile immediately disappears every time you step out of view and into the back of the house. Spending twenty minutes in your boss’ office getting chewed out for disappearing during a sudden order surge is going to do that to a girl. Luckily for you, he was willing to hear you out about what happened after minute fifteen. And so the next five minutes after that were just spent calling you names for not thinking to go around to the front door sooner, rather than blaming you for someone else’s actions entirely. In the end, you left the office with your spirits a little low, but your head still held high. It’s a win, sure. But it’s not a very big one. So you spend the remainder of your shift on your feet, hustling around a bit more than you usually do. 

  It’s the least you could do now that your boss has his eye on you after letting you leave his office with just a warning. Besides, dinner doesn’t pay for itself. And a paying customer deserves a big and bright smile whenever they pop into Zenin Diner! A few hours of pretending to be as happy and as perky as one can be never killed you before, and it certainly won’t kill you now. It’s all you can do. So you do it well.

  Stepping back onto the floor gives you a lot to do. The diner is huge. Bright colors on the walls and posters of all the greatest pop culture moments happening on TV and the radio. There's music that plays too loud. And lights that shine too bright. But it was a welcomed change in your hometown that started a little after the gloomy factories started to pop up all over the place. You still remember bits and pieces of it happening when you were a little girl. Your home was already such a quiet, gloomy place. And the new factories smogging up the skies didn’t make things feel much better, even if they did offer a place for people like your dad to try to earn a better living.

   It took the Gojo Candy Craze from when you were much younger starting up around the whole world, and the main factory belonging to Mr. Gojo himself being built in your town to get Mr. Zenin to allow such a big change in his own diner. And now, twenty years later, booths and seats and tables in red, yellow, green, blue, and purple are crammed here and there and just about everywhere with a large, fancy, shiny counter and a bunch of stools sitting in front of it to boot. The real, authentic diner feel. At least, real like the ones you see on the TVs at work.

  Zenin Diner is open from five in the morning to half past eight o’clock at night. Though you’re lucky if you can make it out of here in a reasonable amount of time on the nights that you close. And even then, during the in-betweens of the usual lunch and dinner rush, there’s plenty of work to be done. At the moment, seven other girls are working the floor with you. Some had been here since the doors opened. Some had arrived at eight to handle the morning crowd like you. And some had just started their shift after swapping out with the morning girls. Same with a few of the chefs back in the kitchen. 

  Though naturally, head chef Nanami makes it to hour nine of his shift with little to no issues arising- ready to face the rest of the day. It’s no surprise to you though. That man has been working here since you were still a young girl. And it’s his dedication to his job that keeps you on your feet today, still doing your best to make up for your mistakes. Well, that, and the promise of him sending you home with whatever scraps are still edible at the end of the day if you manage to make his work day a bit easier.

  So the second you come out of your boss’ office, you’re busing tables for other sections and checking up on yours constantly. Popping by with drinks and fresh silverware just in the nick of time while engaging in pleasantries with both newcomers and your regulars alike. You’re serving everything with care, precision, and speed. Never without your notepad or a couple of napkins and straws in your apron pocket. Never without a pep in your step either. After all, your customers gotta eat. And your family does as well.

  So you make sure everything in your section comes out piping hot and ready and correct. You’re so on top of your game that you managed to catch a moment when even your personal friend and seasoned chef, Toge, forgets a garnish on one of your regular’s Shrimp and Grits. He’s more than appreciative that you noticed. And frankly, you are too when the old lady who ordered it pushes a two-dollar tip in your hands and tells you that everything was perfect. Though it pales in comparison to the time when you and Nobara manage to help catch a bowl of pipping hot tomato soup before head waitress (and one of the owner’s very own daughters) Mai drops it after stacking her tray too full. And although her cheeks are tinted a little red, she doesn’t say anything to you or Nobrara about helping prevent a disaster from happening. In the end, it’s another waitress named Kasumi who's thanking the two of you. But it doesn’t slow you down. Not one bit.

  So you spend the rest of the day making recommendations and accommodations and corrections here and there. Noting down changes to orders- big and little. And remembering allergies and dietary restrictions and silly little things your customers ask for that almost have you rolling your eyes. Almost. 

  When a glass goes crashing to the ground, you’re the first to grab the broom and dust pan to sweep up all the shards. When a bottle of sauce is knocked out of a hand and onto the table, you’re already there with napkins- dabbing it up and seeing if everyone’s shirts were spared. Even Mr. Zenin can’t help but murmur a “good job” to you a couple of hours after the incident had passed when he spots you saving a toddler from flipping a plate of food into their own lap. Today wasn’t a great start, sure. You’ve had much better days- everyone has. But you’re making the most of it. You’re going through the motions. You’re trying your best. You’re rising to the challenge. No matter how hard that challenge ends up being. 

  And by the time you start to notice just how tired your facial muscles are from all that service with a smile, your name is being called again. And finally- it’s because of some good news.

  “Hey, Okkotsu!” You hear from across the diner. Maki’s voice. The owner’s other daughter and one of the girls you’re more friendly with despite her general indifference towards just about everyone in the world. Maybe she has a task for you…

  “On it!” You call back in response to let her know that you’ll be there in just a moment before turning back to the task at hand. You’re at a table currently. Picking up the empty cups and used napkins and placing them on your tray as you finish cleaning the last table in one of your sections. A quick peak outside at the large window in front of you gives you a surprise though. 

  It’s dark outside. Really, really dark. When had it turned nighttime? When had the sun set? You’re not quite sure, but you glance at one of the decorative, retro-style clocks on the diner wall to see if it will give you some answers. But as you spot the hands saying that it’s just about ten minutes to closing, you find that you left with more questions than answers this time. Oh well.

   There’s no use dwelling on it now. Not when your body (your poor feet, in particular) is starting to feel the effect of the twelve-hour shift you just pulled. You’ll think about it later, you decide as you pile the rest of the trash onto your tray and turn on your heel towards the sound of Maki’s voice and the kitchen trash cans. 

  When you arrive at where Maki’s standing, you’re met with the familiar figure of your little brother Yuuta sitting at the diner’s counter, slumped over a sheet of homework. She’s on the other side of the counter, cleaning cups and drying them with Nobara as they stand over him and direct him on a pre-algebra problem. The two of them are getting a little frustrated, and you can tell that even from far away, there was a little bit of bickering between the two of them on how to correctly use the order of operations to solve this problem. Your poor little brother looks a little flustered and overwhelmed with the two much older girls shooting sharp words back and forth in front of him. So you do your best not to add to that trouble too much when you swoop and tell him hello with a kiss on his cheek.

  Naturally, you’re laughing as Yuuta’s face goes bright red with embarrassment as he tries to wipe furiously at the spot your lips touched. It’s the job of an older sister to embarrass her baby brother after all. So it’s expected when he’s mumbling a half-baked reply with an unimpressed look on his face in response to you telling him that you’d be back in a moment. But as you brush past your bickering co-workers and go to disappear behind the counter and into the kitchen, you’re just able to spot him reaching for the glass of ice water on the counter right next to him and take a big gulp to get out of tiebreaker vote Nobrara and Maki had just turned onto him. Smart choice.

  Though, he doesn’t seem grateful for your existence when you let another little laugh slip. But the Yuuta you know is too well-behaved to tell you off for laughing at him. So you’re able to disappear into the kitchen without so much of a fuss in the end. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a bunch of big sister figures looking out for them all the time. But then again, not everyone is unlucky enough to be stuck between a duo like Nobara and Maki when tensions are high like this. Oh well! Not your problem right now. Yuuta will be fine, though.

  You think at least. 

[ars-theurgia]

Anarchy & Apathy (things we should probably learn from Eurovision 2024)

(tl;dr – a review of the voting process is critical; Croatia should have won)

It’s a rare year that sees a consensual Eurovision winner. It is to be expected – the contest is not only a competition of musical taste, but also of musical identity. There is more than simply genre, melody or vocals at play, as these are often filtered through the lens of national sensibility. At face value, a stereotype of geopolitics; at a deeper level, the actual cultural wealth of each European region. 'Our neighbours', etc. To which of course, theatrics and gimmicks are added, in the hopes of standing out from the rest of the crowd.

This is what makes, or should make, watching Eurovision a positive experience. Which this year, failed spectacularly on all counts, leading to a problematic, underwhelming and polarising edition, derailed on Thursday night and crashing its way through apathy and anarchy all the way to the grand final.

Apathy, because it seemed to want to get away with being apolitical. Anarchy, because it failed to carry out apolitical acts.

And from each side, its worst attribute, resulting in what feels like a bland and uncomfortable watch.

This year, Eurovision attempted (and in my view, failed) to manage itself by allowing too many paradoxes to take place. Glaring inconsistencies, arbitrary exclusions, aloof silences, inability (or lack of desire) to address core issues and legacy accusations – a broken code. A program in error, glitching and ineffectual, all under the symbolic and literal guise of “neutrality” – which doesn’t stick. And worse, seems to negate the actual positive aspects of the show, this year neutralised themselves.

This isn’t to say Switzerland did or did not deserve the win – the voting conditions of both jury and public are clearly stated, and in theory were applied. The jury voted, the people voted, and the winner was chosen.

But unlike other years where a similar pattern of voting distribution could be considered ‘curious’, and where ‘the safer song’ wins over the public favourite – see Käärijä 2023 – this year’s jury results feel unjust not only to the runner-up, but to the vast majority of contestants. And by extension, the viewers.

Stage presentation was ignored (see UK for the extreme example, and Ireland for a less radical, visually incompatible result).

Vocal performance was ignored (see Norway’s Gunnhild/Gåte for the extreme example, along with Portugal’s Iolanda; Germany’s Isaak, possibly the strongest vocalist in the competition this year; Israel’s Eden Golan for the complete disregard of vocal ability over nationality).

Radio-friendly potential was ignored (see Luxembourg’s ‘Fighter’, Cyprus’ ‘Liar’, Italy’s ‘La Noia’, Austria’s ‘We Will Rave’ even).

Resulting once again, in a surprisingly cohesive jury vote that deems Switzerland’s ‘The Code’ as the winner, over the fifth place that the public attributed it.

Being neutral is not the same as being objective. And while objectivity is difficult to gauge in a contest where musical taste and national identity (not to mention global politics) are part of the formula, there is a case to be made for the fact that Eurovision and the EBU’s passivity and top-up decision making reflects poorly on the Eurovision experience.

Recurring discrepancies between jury and public voting should be addressed. Because a jury’s role (in Eurovision and elsewhere) should not be of neutrality, but of objective action.

In objective action, a contestant cannot be excluded without a proper justification, to date only explained through vague declarations and heavy speculation (see Netherlands).

In objective action, and in a self-identified democratic continent, the people’s paid vote should inform the winning result over a closed group of juries (see Croatia’s disproportionate second place).

In objective action, rules must be enforced equally to all contestants (see Ireland, who had to remove part of their presentation, vs. Portugal, who was allowed to show a message through nails).

And in objective action, microphones should not be silenced; contestants must be allowed the freedom to be judged by the people listening, and not on what the EBU determines should be judged.

Until that’s learned, processed, addressed, reformed – why watch for disappointment?

[heyftinally]

Swift is a Quanity Artist not a Quality Artist. She has high sales because of the Quanity of her albums not because of the Quality. Her fans are not ready for that conversation.

She has one song!! doing 2Billion streams on Spotify and she got that just recently. For a modern Artist who is active, it's a pathetic achievement. Abel's highest is 4Billion and there are other artists who got songs with higher streams.

Her fans constant comparsions with MJ make no sense, their output is completely different. Mj became a high selling artist with a relative small discography but big albums. Taylor Swifts output - when it comes to releasing albums- is more similar to Elvis or you would say (Prince) and I'm only talking about sales not talent ofc.

Her behaviour with her fame on top of that is completely different aswell. MJ was careful of not being overexposed during the heyday of the Thriller era. Apparently he even demanded only to be shown a few seconds during the Pepsi commercial in 84'. Barely gave any interviews, no tour ( Thriller), the album just sold on hid own. While Taylor Swift unintentionally or not, forces herself down on people. Her art itself cannot survive on it's own if she didn't do that heavy promo. The heavy Promotion also on Tiktok where, when you even watched a random video; her face would pop out in a small circle. This one of the worst thing she could have done to annoy the gp even more.

Many people who were once neutral about probably began to hate her, simply because of that. It's annoying. And it's also quite pathetic to have your new album play in over 800 radio stations! I mean, how insecure are you about your own art? Good music does not need that heavy Promotion.

It's the ignoring Celine Dion at the Grammys, annoucing an album at the Grammys. It is evident that they tried to make this moment a Taylor Swift moment in history of the Grammys, similar to MJ's back then. But it just ended up being embarrassing and awkward. Her putting her Grammy on boygenius' head. I couldn't even watch this, due to the second-hand embarrassment. She carefully forces everywhere to be always in the center of attention. And she does make it in a way where it seems like it is not her fault, so people getting mad shouldn't be blaming her. But that she supposedly has no say how her public persona is perceived is just laughable. She may cannot control the paparazzis and some articles they write. But she knows how to get attention.

And then this:

https://x.com/PopBase/status/1791100169347375609

Her fans are mad at this because it is a Coleen Hoover book and they feel that Swift deserves better than this. I quite honestly don't understand what they mean with better. But for my understanding Taylor owns her songs post Reputation, right? So she had to give her ok using one of her songs in this Film.

I also, unpopular opinion as an already huge artist find it cringe to have a song as a movie soundtrack. Like you are already popular enough. Give it a rest sometime.

She oversaturates the market just to always be on everyone's radar in the most obnoxious way. It's not just that her music is on 800 stations, it's that on any one station they'll play four of her songs for every one of anyone else! When I can hear the SAME Taylor Swift song 4+ times in >4 hours, that's excessive.

But she truly doesn't care, as long as she's the center of attention at all times to feed her ego. Just like when she snubbed Celine Deon. But she paints every and any criticism as an attack/"misogyny" (she wouldn't know the definition if it slapped her smug smirk off her face), and just further feeds her victim complex.

And, for the record, she does control the paparazzi, in a way. There's been reports of her staging outings with friends and having her team call the paps to get shots of her and her entourage. With Taylor always in the middle like Regina George, interestingly.

That said, Taylor doesn't deserve anything "better" than a Colleen Hoover movie adaptation oh please no someone say sike. Taylor can't write good music - might as well pair it with a trash book lol.

Depending on the artist, I think including them in a movie soundtrack can work. Bowling For Soup was in a fair amount of Phineas & Ferb. Hilary Duff had a thriving music career when she was in The Lizzie McGuire Movie and A Cinderella Story, and her music was in both. Same for Selina Gomez in Another Cinderella Story, and Aly Michalka in Phil of the Future on Disney Channel. In all of the above cases the singers had established careers in music, but their music still added something to the media they were in.

Now, that said, I don't think Taylor Swift's music will do the same. I already saw that back in Valentines Day, and her song "Today Was A Fairytale" felt excessively cheesy, childish, and almost Disney-ish for what was supposed to be an older teen/adult movie. And given how stagnant her "growth" as an artist has been since then, I can't see her current music having much benefit for *any* movie.

And yes, she has final say in what movies get her songs at this point, so she signed off on this somewhere. So if/when she cries and/or bitches and bashes the movie for whatever petty reason she decides to fabricate, I want everyone to remember that 1) I called it 2) she HAD to have given permission for her music to be included. *I* have to pay royalties just to use music for a group of 8 year olds to compete at a dance competition - Taylor Swift was ABSOLUTELY compensated after signing an agreement somewhere.

[fights4users]

The sounds of Tron-

Something that is often looked over is the fact that Tron not only has a connection with early computing but with early gaming as well. Not just because one of the characters makes games and runs a arcade, video games are absolutely integral to the world. In fact they make up a good portion of how the system looks and functions!

For example most of the transport, ships, and weapons we see come from video games, mainly Flynn’s but extends into encoms catalog. In the vernacular it’s common to mention it as well “video game warriors” “Gonna make you play video games” “video game simulation” etc. but you didn’t need me to tell you this.

The way video games impacted and shaped the digital world of Tron absolutely plays a hand in how seamless it translates into the two tie in Arcade cabinets. Though heavy on the grid bugs they’re beautifully decorated and similar to the games as we see them on screen/would translate in real life. The music stings come straight from Wendy Carlos’s work for the film, to the extent the game contains the entirety of Anthem. [Listen]

Sound cue’s and combat-

Part of what makes the sound and style of the game so accurate to the movie is the sound design. Like in old games there is a sound for everything. Every movement has its own sound, it sounds silly as things in real life also have noise but if you’ve ever played any retro game you know what I’m talking about.

One of the best examples of this is when Flynn is tossed into the cell and stumbles around, there’s a metallic echo to his footsteps. In combat it’s the same thing —very distinct sounds to go with every action. A lot of what older games are is pattern recognition- both visual and audio, certain music loops or sound cues help you get better at the game. Another good example is Tron casting his disc, blocking throws etc- if you know what a disc sounds like you can better dodge etc. I also like how they have almost a ceramic sound when Ram plays with his.

Nothing is more video game than De-resolution itself! The death cry and slowly breaking into bits before getting reabsorbed. You can hear the noise off screen and know what happened, game over.

Apart from video game comparisons I do have such a genuine love for the sound design of the film and how much it fleshes out the world. The blips and bloops of energy flowing through the system. The sounds of a working computer. There’s a dial up esc noise when Flynn is beamed in and judging by the guards reactions it’s not different from a how a regular program would enter/travel between systems. Programs get to make funky little computer noises in my heart 💕(another inhuman attribute I think they deserve, they’re like us in so many ways but then… aren’t.)

I know it’s probably just because it’s older recording equipment but occasionally programs will get a grainy feedback/radio style grain to their voice. I’d like to think it’s intentional- especially considering Legacy does this too (going so far for it to be what some sound like all the time)

The way sound is utilized in the movie is a incredibly underrated aspect of what makes the movie so good.

[viscerax]

How to never stop being sad

(Repeat to yourself that they're not really gone)

Tim opens the door to his home, practically throwing his jacket to the floor. He calls out, announcing his arrival. For just a moment he thinks he hears a response. A call from another room. Jay greeting him. Brian welcoming him home. He doesn't really hear it. He knows its not real. But it doesn't matter.

(Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over)

__________________________________________

(Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you)

Tim pops the tape into the radio of his shitty car. A compilation of all the songs he and Jay listened to on their 'road trip'. Sometimes it made him sad to listen to them, to think about the bittersweet memories of the man sitting next to him and dumbly singing along, or when they would yell at eachother as the music filled the background.

__________________________________________

(Stay up every single night staring at your phone, Either attempting to gather up the courage, To turn these demons, these constant reminders, Of your loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream)

Tim clutches his phone with conviction. He plays the voice-mails over an over again, as if hearing their voices would bring them back. He listens to Jay's grainy voice asking for a call back, and he let's out a shuddering breath. He knew the man for such a short amount of time, most of which was spent at eachothers necks in an argument. And yet, he felt closer to him than he had with anybody since Brian.

__________________________________________

(Or praying just for one second you could feel

The warmth of equally returned love)

Tim remembers the feeling of Jay's hand slotting into his as he drove. He remembered that look that Jay had in his eyes whenever he was staring at Tim. That look that made Tim feel like he was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. It filled him with a bitter weight. How could he have ever punched this man, this man that looked at him like he was a precious jewel?

Tim remembers the feeling of Brian pressed against him as the two sat on his sofa, away from the publics watchful eye. He remembers Brian's arm around his waist, and his lips on his. He remembers how Brian looked at him the same way that Jay did. He remembers that sweet smile and that adorable tooth gap, and he remembers the feeling of Brian's mustache rubbing against his upper lip as they kissed.

Sometimes he can still feel it, for a fleeting moment he feels a hand in his, or an arm around his waist. And for a moment he thinks 'this is nice.' And then he remembers. And its not nice anymore.

__________________________________________

(Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself)

The baristas have got to think he's the weirdest guy ever. He sits there for hours on end on his days off. The shop is so far away from his home, but he pretends like it isn't. Tells himself he was going to come down here soon anyways, so he might as well. The coffee isn't even good. But he drinks it anyways. He thinks back to when him and Brian were filming that god-forsaken film. He remembers the shoddy dialogue they exchanged out on the wooden steps.

He stays there until closing sometimes. He doesn't even do much. Sits there, spaces out, tries to imagine he's there with Brian, or with Jay, or perhaps both. And the illusion lasts for a bit before its broken by the sound of the bell ringing over the door. He always looks back, always thinks for a moment that he's going to see them standing there. It never happens, but that doesn't stop him from hoping.

__________________________________________

(Talk down on yourself whenever possible

My life is shit because I deserve it, right?)

Your fault. He hears whispers in the night. He knows its his own brain. He knows its himself. He thinks its funny how the human mind betrays itself. He thinks, it must be true, though. To hear it so often.

Tim tried to distance himself from anything to do with the channel. But on particularly lonely nights, he would visit the Twitter page, see the tons of people who made comments, who were trying to solve the whole thing along with them like it was a game.

"I think Tim is responsible for Jay's death. If he hadn't left Jay, he still would've been alive." He read that comment and let out a laugh. At least he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"That was cold of Tim to let Brian fall like that." That one hit Tim. He knew it wasn't true. He knew there was no way to catch him, and he didn't even know it was Brian then. Still. It hurt.

(You must have done something real bad

Its nearly impossible for you to cry now)

__________________________________________

(Avoid your friends for weeks even though

They're the only sense of consistency you have)

He let's the phone ring a few times before finally picking up.

"Hello?" He answers, sounding not-so enthusiastic to be talking to whoever was on the other line.

"Hey, Tim!" Oh great. One of Tim's work friends, Eric's, voice came out of the phone. "You still down to watch the game tonight?" Tim was invited to some football watch party. Tim didn't like football, but the concept of being invited to hang out was nice enough. He said yes at the time, but here he was, sitting on his floor, tears still remnant in his eyes.

"Oh, uhm, no thanks. Got caught up with something. Maybe next time?" There won't be a next time. He knows he can only cancel on so many plans before they get tired of him. But he hears Eric hum in agreement and the two part ways.

__________________________________________

(Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love)

Tim sets the ukulele down with a discontented sigh. The instrument no longer rested neatly in his hands. He could no longer play the chords so fluidly like he used to. Now, whenever he picks it up, it feels more like a chore. He plucks the strings a bit, but nothing more. He thinks about Jay, and how when he found out that Tim could play the ukulele, he told him that it was "basically a guitar but gayer".

__________________________________________

(Watch as you begin to take a backseat

To the world around you, don't fight it

Become a secondary character in your own motion picture)

His days go by in a blur. Every single moment passing by him like he's watching a film. Every day at work feeling like nothing but a mundane task that he's forced to watch someone else do. At this point, he's not sure he even wants to fix things. He stops seeing his counselor after a few months. She wasn't any help, bless her soul. It's not like it was her fault. You can't fix someone who keeps breaking themselves down.

__________________________________________

(But most importantly

Drown every single one of your feelings

In old stolen rum)

If Tim were at a bar, he surely would have been cut off by now. He was almost done with the bottle. He could barely see straight, and he knew he was going to have one hell of a hangover tommorow.

(Learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat)

It burns. And it tastes gross. Tim is reminded why he never drinks everytime he takes a shot. But it doesn't matter. The burn is good, right? It makes him feel good, his brain fuzzy. It clouds his mind and yet makes him feel so much at the same time.

(Find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach

You're drinking bottled love now)

__________________________________________

(You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness

You just needed to find a way to talk to it)

[defira85]

11, 12 and 14 for everyone you like. And Gromph. Cuz you somehow turned him into ur blobro and have caused him to live in my head rent-free (HOW)

From the ask meme here

11. Is there any existing character from other media that your character resembles? Was the resemblance intentional or was it a coincidence?

I made Kass to deliberately resemble a human version of default Durge, does that count? Otherwise... there's a bit of Darth Revan in the way I approach Kass, both default Revan and my custom Revan Vivaane. The amnesia, the unfathomable power, the dancing between good and evil. Oh, and of course the oracle Cassandra from the myth of Troy. Rhyme's character was defined by my immense hatred of how drow women are treated in FR canon if that counts

SIGH AND IF WE'RE DOING GROMPH. I'll succumb to the inevitable. Put Mannimarco from Elder Scrolls in a bag with Ludinus Da'leth from Critical Role and add in Dongfang Qingcang from Love Between Devil and Fairy and shake vigorously. VIGOROUSLY. They all deserve it

12. Do you have a playlist for the character? What songs do you associate with them and why?

I'm bad with playlists, I'll either put on the instrumental soundtrack or I'll have like two songs I play on repeat for them.

We Are by HAEVN is the song I had playing on repeat when I wrote Kass holding Enver as he died. Fucking DEVASTATING song. Begging him to stay alive, begging him to come home to her. HAEVN do some absolutely great music, I highly recommend.

Silverlines (Orchestral version) by Damiano David. He's the lead singer of Måneskin and he's doing some solo stuff lately. I specifically like the haunting nature of the orchestral version as opposed to the radio edit. This is relatively new so it's only just joined the rotation but it's Rhyme facing off against the Netherbrain expecting to die and reflecting on the fact that she's finally got something she's willing to die for in Gale. And the silver lines is a nice little nod to the astral romance scene I think.

I have spent like an HOUR going through Youtube and Spotify trying to work out if I have a song for Gromph and the answer is: not yet. Give it time, it'll happen. I'll halfheartedly say Born Without a Heart by Faouzia but it's not quite right for the vibe I go for OH WAIT FUCK I LOOKED AT MY FUCKING DURGETASH PLAYLIST. Power by Isak Danielson. Love me some fucked up power dynamics, and the power play between Gromph, the most powerful male drow in existence, born into luxury and wealth and power but still treated as lesser due to his sex, and Rhyme, lowest of the lower class, one step above slavery, uneducated labourer who by sheer cruel luck caught Lolth's attention and got uplifted to a position of ultimate power in drow society, is SO toxic to start with. He hates being outranked by her despite his hundreds of years of accomplishments. She hates being talked down to by him. They have SO much in common if only they'd allow themselves to recognise how they're both being abused by the system!!!! So yeah they can also borrow my Durgetash song

14. Do you have any quotes tied to the character, either from the story itself or from another source that fit them?

Kass has two really good lines from her fic that I love as a zinger, they're from her confrontation with Bane: "My name is Kassara Ansuran, the Waiting Storm, and I am tired of waiting!" and the second one "Call me Kassie again, you tyrannical cunt," she said.

For Rhyme it's from the poem climbing by Lucille Clifton: maybe I should have wanted less

For Gromph it'll be from Isabel Allende's The House of the Spirits: He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise

[charmingradiobelle]

I watched Zootopia like 6 months ago on a whim, and now the fixation is still hyper...ing.

Yeah

Anyways, Judy and Nick are the best and deserve everything (I genuinely couldn't remember anyone else's names the first time I saw it) aaaaand yeah it's sad that the Fandom is basically nonexistent.

Actually, it's still going strong(?) on AO3 (i've made a few one-shots (shameless self promotion I'm Not_Quite_A_Moron there)) but still, kinda sucks.

Anyways, random headcanon time:

Nick has two moms (he doesn't have specific names for both of them, he just yells "MOM!" anytime he needs help)

Judy actually really likes eating meat, Nick just has to convince her to try it

Nick became really closed off and touch starved after the Junior Ranger Scouts incident, so now, he's a chronic cuddler (especially with Judy (which she loves))

Judy's on the autistic spectrum (she often stims by tapping her foot, and she likes to display affection via playful punches to the arm)

Judy was born on the same day that Nick got muzzled, as if the universe itself felt bad and said "here, have a rabbit" (definitely didn't steal this one from Tumblr nope certainly not)

Nick doesn't really like Gazelle's music, he's more of a rock kind of guy, but he'll stomach any song for Judy’s sake

Judy's asexual (Take one look at the nudist club scene and tell me she isn't at least demi)

Bestie I’d just like to say AAAAAAAAAA

Sorry, but I just got SO excited when I saw someone submitting headcanons! It’s been way too long since I’ve been able to have a good ol’ Zootopia discussion. Oh and I’ll certainly check out your fics! My user is Pixarpnflover so be on the look out for some kudos!✨

Anyway, I love the idea of Nick being raised by two moms! There was supposed to be a plotline about his dad—John Wilde, I believe was his name—but got scrapped along with a lot of other content. So until it’s actually mentioned in canon I’m choosing to believe his mom in the flashback was in fact a raging lesbian lmao🤷‍♀️ also would that make him a double mama’s boy?🤔

Ooo an herbivore converting to a meat diet? How intriguing! I like to think now that she lives in the city that Judy would be open to trying new foods, which would include poultry and fish. I can see her favoring sushi or even turkey.

Nick being openly affectionate after meeting Judy, and reserving most of that said affection for her? Hell yeah. He’s very unapologetic about it too. He’s waited far too long to share that amount of vulnerability and comfort with someone. No way he’s ever going to hold back🫂

Autistic Judy my beloved🙌🏻 You cannot convince me she’s even a little bit neurotypical, I will not believe you lol. I love that her natural rabbit behavior could actually be interpreted as stimming!

Dude, I have believed this headcanon for so long!! The second I found out their age difference, I just knew there had to be some kind of coincidence going on there. I mean, Nick could’ve just said “when I was a kid” when beginning the story, but instead he specified his age (or an estimate, at least) and I think that a choice on the writers’ part. Anyway, I’m a big believer in fate/soulmates, so even just the idea of Judy being born, destined to cross paths with Nick someday to heal his childhood trauma and make his life better, just melts my heart❤️😭

Haha yeah, you can tell the concert at the credits that Nick was only there for Judy😆 Not to say he wasn’t enjoying himself, he just wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as everyone else. But ya know, the things ya do for your girlfriend!😋 I can also imagine Judy listening to music she doesn’t necessarily enjoy either. A certain loud rock song starts playing on the radio and before she can even think about changing the station, Nick goes “oh I like this one!” And so she smiles and suffers through it. She may even end up liking it anyway!😌

As for this last one, I kinda have to disagree. Not to say she isn’t ace or demi, and no hate to anyone who shares this opinion! But idk, to me I don’t think someone not wanting to see a bunch of people walking around ass-naked makes them ace or a prude (which I’ve seen some fanfics try to claim her to be?) I mean, I’m horny asf and I’d be just as uncomfortable walking around a nudist club😆😅

…I never thought I’d type a sentence like that lol

Anyway, thanks for sharing these! I sure hope the fandom comes back someday, but in the meantime I’ll be here waiting and open to exchanging more headcanons! :3

[iced-cofi]

Hello, ladies, gentlemen, neither, both, in-between, and etcetera. Earlier today, I was thinking about how some of my favorite indie titles don't really get the reach they deserve, and then it occured to me that maybe that's because people don't talk about them very much. So I figured the best way to share them is to talk about them! So today, I would like to share a list of some of my favorite underrated indie games that I firmly believe deserve more love!

So welcome all, to...

Indie Games that I like that don't get enough attention (:

Now, these will all be shorter reviews with one or two images each, simply to give a taste, and to try to get y'all to check them out! Also, just so y'all know, most of these aren't totally unknown, but are still underdiscussed and appreciated in my opinion. Without further ado, enjoy!!

Number 1: ROLLER DROME

If you know me at all, you know that I fuckin love Tony's Hawk Pro Skate Fun Time. Along side that, you should also know that I really like quick paced movement shooter combat. And the idea of marrying the two makes me salavate like a feral beast eating for the first time in a week.

It is lightning fast, always changing, and requires you know how to do sick tricks while gunning down hoards of bat wielding madmen and laser firing teleporty... death... folks (I dunno I couldn't think of a good description for them lol). The gunplay is satisfying, challenging, and yet so consistently rewarding in and of itself that I actually wanted to go for a high score in most of the levels, a thing I do it literally nothing else except fuckin Tetris and Sonic. I would recommend it back to front, again and again. Absolutely phenomenal, with a pretty rad NG+ as well.

And all this goes without mentioning the brilliant comic book visual style, breathtaking views and locales, and brain pumping soundtrack. And while the story is simple, it is told in an incredibly fun yet quiet, eclectic yet unique, and engaging yet entirely optional way.

I would recommend this game to anyone looking for something energetic, challenging, and accessible in all the right ways. Good shit, I promise.

Number 2: PACIFIC DRIVE

As a 22 year old who grew up in Colorado with family living out of state who we would visit at least once a year, I am not exaggerating when I say that Road tripping is like my favorite fucking thing ever. Driving though forests, listening to indie rock and podcasts while playing word games and chatting with loved ones, it is a one of a kind experience that fills me with a... Quiet yet appreciative meloncholy.

Pacific Drive distills the beauty and calm of a road trip, and combines that with a strange, anomalous world to create one of the most unique survival games I have ever had the pleasure of playing. The moment to moment gameplay can range from solemn drives though scenic Pacific northeast forests, listening to a wonderful collection of indie music on the in game radio, all the way to hauling ass through forests as reality collapses around you, trying to get your fuckin wreck of a car through a beam of angelic light to teleport to safety in an instant of white hot light.

And this is all while managing every single minute detail of both your car and your environment. Bumper taking a beating? Repair and upgrade it to take more hits. Door torn off in a hell storm? Find one off of one of the many wrecks and throw it on there, it'll work for now. Too dark to see through the rain and wind? While you gotta turn those headlights and windshield wipers on. It's complex yet understandable. It's customizable yet consistent. It's so fuckin good dude.

Oh also the story fuckin rules but I won't say anything else cause you really should experience it yourself.

I would recommend this to anyone nostalgic for late night drives and cross country road trips, but I assure you this shit ain't stress free lol. Worth every moment tho. Amazing shit.

Number 3: KILLER FREQUENCY

I have always been iffy on the slasher genre. While some of them are absolutely delightful with just the right amount of cheese and... While, slashing, some of them divulge too much into gore and guts, with such intense tonal whiplash it breaks my fuckin neck. But sometimes, something gets it just right. And this game absolutely does.

Killer Frequency is the answer to a question no body asked. "What if you were a radio host who had a bunch of people call in desperately begging you to help save their lives?" But why did no body ask it? It fuckin rules! The game consistently provides puzzles that poke at the brain while constantly under the stress of needing to solve it or someone will actually just fucking die. With perfectly campy performances and writing, it constantly entertains without feeling like it relished violence, mainly because most of the actual murdering happens over the phone. It's awesome and eerie, and provides a really fun mini radio station sandbox to play records, ads, and sound effects on. It fucking rules.

Ironically, of the games thus far, this one is actually pretty low stress and casual, and doesn't really push the boundaries of horror in a way that will turn people away. I really would recommend this to anyone looking for a fun one or two session slasher flick to play with friends.

Number 4: POST VOID

I'm gonna keep this one super short and sweet, cause this game likes to do the same.

POST VOID is a psychedelic, hyped violent, messy first person shooter rouge lite about movie fast and kickin ass. It is constantly breakneck, borderline mindnumbing, and almost disquieting in its art style, like every thing is a scribble in the mind of a broken man. The game can be beaten in an hour if you're good, and yet can be replayed again and again and again. It's the perfect game to pop open, run a few times, and then close.

Play this game. It's like 6 bucks I don't care if you don't think it's for you, it's so good. I promise.

Number 5: PENNY'S BIG BREAKAWAY

This is the last one for the night, and I'm probably gonna do a part 2 but I need to go to bed. But regardless, holy shit. My favorite genre in all of gaming is 3D platformers, and the fact that this game underperformed is a downright fucking crime, cause this is one of the most unique, fun, wacky platformers of all time in all the best ways. It's weird and confident and full of shit to do, and also it's developed by the Sonic Mania team, and all of that care and love and passion and talent fully carries over.

The controls are incredibly unique, and take a minute to get used to, but once you do, you will find yourself entering a platformer flow state like none other. Jumping and flipping and twirling and rolling and diving, it all flows together seamlessly in one of the most unique control schemes I've ever played with ever.

And of course, the visuals are wonderful and silly and so fuckin good it makes me want to cry. And the music oh my fucking God the music, it is one of a kind. It's bouncy and fun and both so distinctly 90s and yet so modern in quality and mixing, it makes for a audio feast for the ears.

Every challenge completed, every level beaten, every boss stomped, every single moment spent playing this game is a moment that you improve, and get better, and move faster, and flow better. And in tandem with the brilliant art direction, amazing music, and Saturday morning cartoon ass story, it makes for a one of a kind, silly, charming, absolute blast of a game I would recommend to anyone of any age, period and of quote.

If you have the means and ability to do so while caring for yourself, please play these games. Each is entirely unique and weird and fun and each one is absolutely worth every penny (haha get it) they cost.

Thank you for indulging me, and I kinda wanna make a video with this concept soon. This was very very fun!! Have a good night thanks for listening to my bullshit also last thing last little bonus here are songs from each of the games. They are all in the same order as the games if you are wondering which game each is from ok that's all have fun ok night night!!

[viccharine]

who the HELL is panicking at this disco!!!!

(reblogs greatly appreciated!)

(available on my ko-fi shop!)

process + commentary under the cut!

about the piece: i found myself in a bit of a slump after pushing out so much art in about 2 weeks so this piece took wayyyyy longer than any of my other ones. i knew I wanted the concept of a thermometer as a “cigarette” (do you guys get it. because like. a fever you can’t sweat out. a high fever. right you guys get it right??????) but it took me a LOT of tries to eventually land on a composition i actually liked—do not even get me STARTED on how I incorporated the title. I couldn’t decide on using a font or hand lettering or even where to place the text, it took me a solid two days to get to where it is now and I’m not even 100% happy with it. i tried to mimic a playing card design with the text placement but I’m not sure how well I pulled it off

here are some of the process pics:

the concept itself comes from a lot of the references to addiction in the album as well as the heavy burlesque, early 1900s, circus influence on the album aesthetic (whoever thought of this album theme deserves an award, AFYSCO has genuinely some of the coolest concepts from a design perspective to me)

about the album: AFYCSO is probably one of the best debut albums imo (although that title probably goes to Olivia Rodrigo’s “SOUR” for me)—it’s genuinely in my top three favorite albums of all time, no skips whatsoever on there. regardless of my opinion on Panic! at the Disco (which was pretty much neutral, I never really got into bandom and I didn’t really listen to panic’s music outside of AFYSCO) AFYSCO will always have a special place in my heart, both musically and lyrically it’s SO GOOD

although, I will say that there are some misogynistic undertones (and in some cases just outright misogyny) in these lyrics—I did touch on this topic in my DANCE DANCE commentary so I won’t repeat myself, check that post for more of my thoughts. all in all, the album bangs, but the misogynistic undertones were basically unavoidable if you look at the album in terms of being written by a teenage boy in the early 2000s who got cheated on. hell hath no fury like a woman scorned but the devil himself doesn’t write lyrics like a teen boy cheated on—go figure. im not saying all the songs have misogynistic undertones but I will say there are a couple that are WAY in ur face (looking at you, I write sins)

anyway, that’s basically it, ok byeeeeee!!!

p.s: i was debating mentioning this because I feel like im beating a dead horse, but in light of Brendon Urie’s recent actions (as well as past controversial actions), I don’t support him and feel extremely bad about the people who his actions have hurt—but I don’t think that means much from a person who never really liked him in the first place. again, while I was a BIG fan of AFYCSO, I never really got into Panic! at the Disco (I only listened to Pretty. Odd. recently this month and before that I only really knew the big radio hits). im not gonna pretend like I know everything about what happened with Panic! at the Disco in recent years and truly? I don’t Care to find out—panic! has been disbanded, and while I look at AFYSCO fondly with nostalgia, I don’t feel much about the band itself

p.p.s: AFYCSO almost killed me once because when I had a kidney infection (although I didn’t know it at the time) I had an INSANELY HIGH fever. I thought to myself “haha this is a fever I can’t sweat out!! like the album!!” and then promptly passed out—I wasted my last coherent thought on some stupid P!TAD joke instead of. asking for medical attention. anyway I ended up in the emergency room so I didn’t die but it was a near thing