#if i say something that is completely wrong about music

[anonymous-existences]

Hello DCxDP fandom. Here I find myself back in DCxReader for some random occasion.

DCxDP Prompt 12 :

This Prompt has been living in my head rent free but it's DCXDP!!

Nobody Knows AU(sort of) + Neglectful Fenton Parents

Danny knows he's dead, No one has noticed his frequent absence, He keeps a stable double Life because the ghosts decides to only seek him out on specific times of the day and he always takes care of them quickly, He and His Body are completely Seperate and Danny Buries His Dead Body deep underground and puts a flower on it daily, grieving his own death.

How the JL will be notified of this is simple. Fenton's are Mad Scientists, One daughter living abroad and in college and there's one clearly neglected teenager under the mad scientist's care. Everytime they enter the Fenton household where Danny is present the Old Yazoo music plays on the non-existent radio and they need to find Danny in the house as the Music slowly gets distorted, when they find Danny is only when the Music stabilizes and they can't take Danny immediately, only one enters the home at a time and whenever they try to enter all of them at once a forcefield appears.

It's nothing Fenton field, It's something else as if Danny is protecting his.. 'Territory'.

And as the prompt above this post suggests it continues that way sort of, they don't know Danny is Dead, Bruce is about to adopt the child and he reveals to Bruce his Dead Body. My mind said it's like a mystery game where they have to slowly gain Danny's trust and Bruce does it the best somehow and Danny finally reveals to them everything ever so slow yet successfully but they know any wrong move they make will lead to the boy's distrust.

No one knows where the Fenton Parents are, Danny says they're inside the portal, no one knows how to get to the portal yet and if they leave the boy for too long and the music completely distorts they are teleported outside and kicked out essentially.

It's a big game of "how to make this neglected possibly magical reality warping child trust us" Danny is slightly enjoying all of it because they bring him treats and the ghosts who guard him seems to be very fond of them.

Whatever happens now can be taken from here by another writer <333

IMAGINE! Bad parenting!reader

Random idea for a yandere!batfam writing that i might do.

Imagine you, the reader take the place of Ron from bad parenting. People in the apartment you live in have reported domestic abuse in the places. You are dead, but can be seen in night. So imagine the batfam’s reaction to see a kid just smiling. Not knowing anything, just pure of light and curiosity. You call the big bat man “Mr bat!” Running up to him holding a doll that looks like you. They notice the snapped neck, but with how you show no sign of abuse because of your father drinking himself sleep.

They search the place, they see you are unable to live here. Batman already has an adoption certificate ready under his suit as you grab Damian’s hand. Jumping excitedly as you show them around. You made new friends!

While the batfam, made their new obsession on how to take you out of this house. Not knowing you are dead.

[stargirllanaa]

Death Grips. II - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

Series masterlist 

A/n: hey guys, I’m currently out of the country so this took me a little longer than I wanted it to but hope u enjoy and pls leave feedback and lmk how u like it!

Part: II

………

As you stormed to your dorm, the only thoughts in your head were, What was the point of all of this? And Why was he doing all of this? He had already taken so much from you; why wasn't it enough? You thought you had been going crazy. First, it was the kiss at the party; now, this. I mean, did he still want power over you that bad?

~~~~

The sound of Rafe's engine created a soft hum behind the blaring sound of his music as he used one hand to steer through the night and the other to turn the volume up slightly before resting it comfortably on your thigh. Raindrops smacked hard against The windshield to be quickly whipped away the second they did.

You hadn't felt like yourself in a while. I mean, of course, you felt like yourself, but you felt like a shell, a casing of what you used to be. Your friends had noticed it too, and the abuse you had been enduring daily was getting harder to hide, not just the bruises but your overall mood; whenever you were happy, it didn't seem as big.

Whenever you were sad, it seemed like the end of the world. You constantly felt anxious, wondering if you would say the wrong thing to Rafe; honestly, it made you want to stay completely silent around him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing. It wasn't that important; it was just one of your classmates texting you about a project the two of you were working on together. What you hadn't noticed was Rafe peaking at your phone, too.

"Who's that?" Rafe questioned almost instantly, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the road.

"It's just Cam from my research class," you replied nonchalantly, scrunching your eyebrows as you tried to focus on reading the text.

"Didn't I tell you to block him?" Your boyfriend reminded you more than he asked, and his tone hit a dangerous edge.

"Yeah, but—"you try to backtrack and defend yourself before being cut off by the sound of your boyfriend hitting the steering wheel hard, making you flinch, almost as if he was trying to warn you to shut up.

"There is no, but if I tell you to do something... " he took a long breath, shaking his head. You should respect me enough to do it." When you didn't respond, Rafe took that as a sign to do something to make you respond.

This happened very often. When it came to Rafe, you would tend to shut down, too scared to say the wrong thing.

As you stared out the window, not wanting to argue anymore, arms crossed over your chest, you noticed that the nearby scenery started to drift by faster than it should. Rafe's engine grew louder as his truck moved quicker, and when you looked at him, it all clicked. His knuckles were nearly white from gripping the steering wheel so tight, his eyes shifting back and forth from the road, and you in his face hard as a rock.

"R-Rafe?" You stuttered as the speed of his truck continued to grow, the speedometer moving further and further to the right. But he didn't say anything, and now he wasn't even looking at you, his eyes glued to the road as he continued to push the gas.

"Slow down." Your voice shakes as you try to speak calmly through your growing anxiety, your head whipping back and forth between the road and him. When he still didn't respond, you started to lose it.

"RAFE, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!" You were now screaming through tears; this wasn't fucking funny at all. He was playing with your life, and if this wasn't a joke and he was seriously going to crash the car and kill you both over a text message, it made you feel even more stupid. Rafe had done more than enough for you to leave him, yet you were stupid because you still loved him and couldn't imagine yourself without him.

Instead of slowing down as you asked, Rafe hit the brakes forcefully, causing you to fly forward in your seat and slam your head hard against the dashboard.

"Fuck.." you mumbled under your breath, holding your now-pounding forehead.

Relief washed over you as you looked out the window to see your boyfriend had stopped the truck entirely, but that relief was short-lived when you turned to look at him and were met with cold, calculated blue eyes.

"Get out of my car." Rafe leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with a sinister calm. "I'm not playing around. Get out." The way he said it, flat and final, sent a chill down your spine.

You hesitated, trying to search his expression for any hint of remorse or softness, anything that could explain why he was acting this way. But his face was stone, unfeeling and unmoved by the terror and confusion that must have been clear in your eyes.

"Get out of my car," he repeated, his tone colder, firmer. But you just sat there, clutching your bag and staring at the windshield, hoping that if you didn't move, he'd realize how irrational he was being and calm down.

"Rafe, please… it's pouring out, and it's late. Just take me back to campus, and we can talk about this later," you pleaded, your voice shaking but determined not to show how scared you really felt.

But instead of softening, Rafe's expression hardened, and he leaned over, his hand reaching across to unlatch your seatbelt with a rough pull. "I told you to get out, and I'm not repeating myself again."

You flinched, holding onto the edge of the seat as if it would anchor you there. "No, You're not leaving me out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm not getting out," you replied, your voice firm despite the tremor behind it.

Without another word, Rafe climbed out of the driver's side and rounded the car to your door. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof intensified as he pulled your door open. In one swift motion, he reached in, grabbing your arm tightly, making you wince in pain. You tried to pull back, but his grip was too firm.

"Rafe, stop! Please!" you cried, your voice desperate as you clutched at the car door, digging your fingers into the edges, trying to hold on.

Ignoring your pleas, Rafe yanked harder, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from the seat until your feet hit the wet pavement. You stumbled, nearly slipping as he let go, and you could only stand there, drenched and shivering, watching him with wide eyes.

"Maybe you should ask Cam to come pick you up." he sneered before slamming the door shut and stepping hard on the gas. The tires spun momentarily, spraying water in your direction as he sped off into the night, leaving you alone on the empty road.

The silence that followed was thick and pressing; the only sound was the faint drumming of raindrops against the pavement. You felt as if you were standing outside of yourself, staring at this girl who looked so broken and small.

With a shaky breath, you fished your phone out of your pocket, fingers trembling as you scrolled to Cam's number. You hesitated for a second, feeling a strange, bitter sense of defeat. Rafe had already stripped so much of your self-worth; even calling Cam felt like another small submission to Rafe's control. But you couldn't stay here.

The phone rang twice before Cam's voice filled the line, warm and slightly sleepy. "Hey y/n?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. The sob you'd been holding back escaped, the weight of the night pressing down on you all at once.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cam's tone shifted instantly, concern flooding his voice.

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Can you… can you come get me?"

~~~~~

As you woke up, your heart continued pounding from your dream. It felt so real, and it was for you at one point, and it felt like torture to keep having to relive it again.

~~~~~

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you looked out over the crowd. The night air was crisp, the stadium lights casting everything in a golden glow. You hadn't been to a football game in ages, and even though the noise and energy of the crowd were overwhelming, you were glad you'd let your friends drag you out here.

Your friend Bella leaned over, nudging you with a grin. "Isn't this so much better than moping in your dorm all night?"

You forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm glad I came." You meant it, or at least part of you did. They'd insisted you join them tonight, hoping to pull you out of the isolation you'd slipped into over the past few months. For a second, you almost didn't come, thinking of all the excuses you could make. But here you were, dressed in your school colors, surrounded by people who cared, trying to be normal again.

Yet, as you watched the players run across the field, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed. How you used to feel comfortable in crowds like these, carefree and loud. Now, it felt like a thin layer of normalcy you were trying to wear, hoping it would eventually fit.

As the game broke for halftime, you stood up. "I'm gonna grab some snacks. Anyone want anything?"

They all jumped at the offer. Mia gave you a list with a smirk. "Just think of it as your penalty for making us drag you out here."

Rolling your eyes, you headed for the concession stand, weaving through the crowd until you finally reached the line. It felt oddly peaceful to be alone, a chance to catch your breath from the excitement of the game and the effort of trying to act carefree.

But then, just as you stepped forward in line, a familiar voice behind you made your heart stop.

"Hey," Rafe murmured, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.

You froze, debating whether to even turn around. You hadn't spoken to him since he ruined your breakfast last week, and you'd been determined to keep it that way. But something in his tone caught you off guard, and reluctantly, you glanced back at him.

"Can we talk?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked almost contrite, but his eyes still held that edge, the exact look you'd seen too many times.

You crossed your arms, already feeling your walls go up. "What is there to talk about?"

He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. "I just think… we should put everything behind us. I mean, we're bound to see each other, and now that Topper and Mia are getting closer, it would be better if we could just… let it go."

Your jaw tightened. "Let it go? You mean forget everything you put me through?"

He shrugged as if that should be easy. "Look, that's just how I am, you know? You could never handle me—"

"You're right," you interrupted, your voice stronger than expected. "I couldn't handle the lying. I couldn't handle being with someone who hurt me just because that's who they are. I couldn't handle seeing you fuck another girl."

He barely flinched, his expression annoyingly indifferent. "You think you saw something. We were going through a rough patch anyway, and you know it."

Your hands shook as you clenched your fists, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, I saw it. You lied over and over and then acted like I was the crazy one for not believing you."

Rafe rolled his eyes as if he'd heard it all before. "Look, we don't have to keep going back and forth about this. I'm here trying to make things easier. If you want to keep holding on to some old grudge, that's on you."

You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep your composure. "Rafe, it's not a grudge—it's knowing who you are. I know you're never going to admit it, but I'm done pretending like you didn't ruin us."

He shrugged, dismissing your words with a half-smirk. "Fine, whatever you say."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling both angry and strangely free. You'd finally confronted him, and he'd shown you exactly who he was—again.

When you returned to your friends, arms full of snacks, Mia looked at you curiously. " Is everything okay?"

You forced a smile. "Yeah. Better than it's been in a while."

When the game reached its conclusion, as you walked towards the stadium's exit, a familiar voice caught your ear.

"hey, y/n!" The tall brunette man called out to you.

It was Cam. The two of you had become friends since he picked you up after Rafe left you on the street. Well, a little bit more than friends. You wouldn't say the two of you were dating because you'd never put a label on it. Still, you had been ‘talking’ to him since the beginning of the year and sleeping in his room occasionally.

You stopped in your tracks, asking your friends to wait for you before approaching him. He was leaning against a wall by himself, smirking at you as you walked over. It felt good to feel wanted, but part of you knew anything with Cam would never work because you couldn't even picture yourself being in another relationship after Rafe.

"I fancy seeing you here," Cam joked in a mock British accent, making you both cringe and slightly giggle.

You rolled your eyes, but a grin tugged at your lips. “Nice accent, really nailed it.”

Cam chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “What can I say? I aim to impress.” He leaned closer, his gaze settling on you with that familiar warmth. “So, you’re actually out tonight. Didn’t expect to see you at a game.”

“Yeah, it’s… been a while,” you admitted, shifting slightly as his hand found your arm, his fingers lingering just a bit longer than necessary. A warmth spread from where he touched, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper than friendship.

His fingers trailed down to your wrist, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. “You should come out more,” he murmured. “I miss seeing you around.” There was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen like he actually cared about you—not just as a friend, but something more.

You were about to respond when you felt an odd weight on you, as though someone was watching. You glanced over Cam’s shoulder, and your stomach twisted as you locked eyes with Rafe. He was leaning against the far wall, his expression dark and unreadable, his gaze trained on the two of you with a sharp intensity that sent a chill down your spine. But he didn’t make a move to approach. Instead, he just watched, his jaw tight and his eyes simmering between anger and resentment.

Cam must have noticed the shift in your expression because he gently cupped your face, drawing your focus back to him. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, forcing Rafe out of your mind as you looked back at Cam. The concern in his eyes melted away the anxiety for a second. “Yeah, sorry,” you murmured, leaning into his touch just a bit. “I’m good.”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been wanting to ask if maybe you wanted to go out sometime, just us. You know… something different?”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek made you feel almost safe as if you could finally move forward. You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

In your peripheral vision, you could still see Rafe standing there, unmoving, his gaze locked onto you. But this time, you didn’t look back. You stayed in the moment with Cam, focusing on his warm smile and its comfort, realizing maybe it was finally time to let yourself be happy.

~~~~~

You sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping idly through a textbook, when Mia burst into the room with a huge grin, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Guess what!” she announced, eyes shining with excitement.

You looked up, arching an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Topper invited me to the beach tonight,” she said, drawing out the last word with a delighted sigh. “And… he told me I could bring you, too.”

At that, you felt yourself go stiff. “Topper invited me? Why would he want me there?”

Mia rolled her eyes, crossing the room to sit beside you. “He’s just being nice! He knows we’re close, and he wants me to feel comfortable. And maybe he figured you’d be the best buffer in case things got, you know, awkward.”

You stared at Mia, skepticism etched across your face. “Mia, you know Topper and Rafe are best friends, right? You really think he just invited me along for the fun of it?”

Mia waved a dismissive hand, her expression somewhere between pleading and confident. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but Topper promised me it wouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, this is about me and him. You’re just my plus-one, so I don’t feel like I’m getting in too deep alone.”

You folded your arms, still unconvinced. “And you don’t think Rafe’s going to be there? I haven’t exactly been dying to see him.”

Mia huffed, crossing her arms to match your posture. “Okay, I get that, but you don���t have to talk to him. Just be there with me and have a good time. We can stick together, and if he even looks at you wrong, I’ll drag you out of there myself.”

You could see how badly she wanted you to say yes, and you were tired of feeling like the shadow of your past with Rafe was lurking over everything. Maybe if you went, it would feel less like he was still dictating your life from a distance. Still, the thought of facing him—even at a crowded beach with Mia by your side—made your stomach twist.

“Fine,” you finally sighed, feeling your defenses weakening. “I’ll go. But if he starts anything, we’re leaving. Promise?”

Mia grinned and crossed her fingers. “Promise. And trust me, this is going to be good for you. Just give it a shot.”

……

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘i don’t smoke’

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 ᯓ stupid crush — ᡣ𐭩

she didn't understand why she felt like this, why she felt so... warm. especially when you were around. any time you even came within a 5 feet radius of her, she'd feel like she was going to explode. her cheeks would heat up, and she wouldn't know how to act, what to say—she didn't even know how to breathe when you were around her. which reminded her... you were lying right on her chest, and that only made the struggle to breathe worse. she hopes you didn't notice, but with the way your hand ran across her stomach so often, she was sure you might've caught on earlier than she expected. billie had been the one to invite you over after you got off your shift, and you happily accepted her invitation because she was never really the one to ask.

so, here you were, your bodies laying on her bed as a song from your shared playlist plays at a low volume from the speaker on her nightstand. the rain from outside hit her window, the quiet pitter-patter noises making the whole scene complete. it was something straight out of some classic friends-to-lovers film. her bedside lamp was on, lighting the room up just enough so that you could see her face and she could see yours. she was counting each of the little freckles on your face as you shut your eyes, relaxing into her. she ran a hand through your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp so softly, so carefully as she lulled you even further into a sleepy state of mind. she was praying you didn't hear the fast beating of her heart as she held you, not moving too much because she was scared that she'd do something wrong and you'd leave.

she grabbed her phone from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked her phone and went into her voice notes. she was sure you were asleep by now, your gentle breathing and quiet demeanor, a crystal clear sign. but, as she played the most recent one, titled 'stupid crush,' she regretted not making sure that you were actually asleep. her voice erupted from the speaker on her nightstand, and the first words that were heard were, "this is fucking stupid. i... love y/n. there was that—?" until billie finally came to her senses and paused it, the music resuming almost immediately. if her heart wasn't racing, it sure as hell was now. you stirred in your... sleep?—daze?—she didn't know, but now you were looking directly into her eyes with the... softest expression on your face. your eyes spoke for you, but billie was sure she was misreading the smile that began to creep onto your face. you were going to laugh. make fun of her—

"what's so 'fucking stupid' about that?" you giggle softly, voice slightly raspy and eyes glossed over with multiple emotions. all of which were for billie to decipher because she knew damn well she wasn't gonna get any answers from between your pretty pink lips until she finally admitted her feelings. but she didn't know what to say, and not even the music playing softly in the background calmed her anymore. she shut off her phone, tossing it to the empty side of the bed as she gulped quietly, "tell me, i'm quite interested." you sat up, sitting on her lap as you always did because you could never not be at least somewhat in her personal space. maybe that's part of what helped develop her crush on you. her stupid crush. on you. her best friend, of all people. she cleared her throat of the suffocating feeling as she sat up straighter, body tensing as she hopelessly murmured, "because you're my best friend. we're—y/n, we can't be—"

"who says we can't be together?" you scoff, a half-amused, half-annoyed look on your face. when she blinked, it was like you were a million miles closer to her, your lips inches apart, breath fanning over her face. she gulped again, eyes scurrying over to the empty side of the bed, biting on her lip nervously as she tried to think about what to say. it wasn't like she didn't want you to be her girlfriend, she was just... scared of messing it all up. when you cupped her cheek and turned her head back towards you, her eyes widened, "gimme one reason." you whisper, eyes darting down to her plump lips as you scoot closer to her body, shorts riding up your thighs. she doesn't respond, feeling frozen in the same song that just ended began to play again through the speaker, "billie," you murmur, lips only inches away from hers, almost brushing against each other as your hand travels down and wraps around the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. when your other hand comes up to her shoulder, she only then decides to speak, "because it'll be ten times harder to let you go."

"then you better hold me tight so that won't happen." you whisper before your lips crash softly against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. she doesn't pull away, your words slowly processing in her head as her own hands cautiously grab a hold of your waist, almost pulling you onto her lower abdomen in an attempt to get you closer. she wanted you two to be whole, even after all the doubt she spat out before. your words sunk deep into her heart, and now she didn't have a worry in the world. as long as you were with her, everything would be fine. she'd just have to hold you. close. tight. secure. as long as possible... and maybe even forever. she smirks against your mouth as she feels your tongue run across her lower lip, pulling away only a few inches as she opens her eyes, staring deeply into yours and never looking away, "so... i guess i should rename the voice note 'stupid girlfriend,' now?" she giggles as you roll your eyes, pushing her shoulder softly, "i think you're the stupid one."

𐙚 amiyaps : guys the landing of my flight scared the absolute SHIT out of me... cus tell me why we were dropping so fast bro 🙁

𐙚 tags : @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

[cityofmeliora]

the Terzo autism post ♾️

this is kind of an analysis post and kind of a headcanon post.

Terzo reads as autistic to me, especially during his first two concerts when he was speaking without a script and trying to figure things out.

Terzo has that "trying new things is scary and i need to feel like i'm getting a good grade at social interactions and everything has to be done correctly or i'm going to explode" flavor of autism.

[AFTER PERFORMING PRIME MOVER] PAPA EMERITUS III: How am I doing so far? I've been studying these moves so you would feel comfortable. Are you comfortable? Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

Terzo says he studied the choreography for 'Prime Mover' so the audience would feel comfortable. he's trying to do what people expect, and he keeps checking if he's doing alright and asking the audience if they like what he's doing.

[BEFORE PERFORMING ABSOLUTION] PAPA EMERITUS III: So, we're gonna finish this off with something as weird as a new song. What that delighting, or did you not like that? Yes. Good, good. Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: So, I know it might seem a little confusing –it's even a little confusing to me, sometimes– y'know, playing new songs for people who've never heard these songs. But I tell you what– we have a really good ending song that you will understand why it is an ending song when you hear it. But now it might seem a bit strange, huh? Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

Terzo feels weird about performing new music because it's new and the audience doesn't know what to expect and neither does he. he keeps trying to assure the audience that it'll be okay. but i'm pretty sure he was the only person worried about it. he was about to release a new album, so it completely made sense that he would be performing new songs. he just hates not knowing what to expect, and it doesn't occur to him that not everyone thinks like him.

and then this clip... i think it speaks for itself, but let's talk about it anyway. (i included the audio because i really want people to hear him speaking here.)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Okay! We are now officially wrapping– with a song. It's not a rap song, though. [STUTTERS FOR SEVERAL SECONDS] I've heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we're gonna do right now, and if you had said no, that would have been… weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

like where do i even start with this. him thinking he needs to clarify he's not going to be rapping. the stuttering. the fact that he listens to what Secondo tells him so he knows what to expect. him saying "[...] if you had said no, that would have been... weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is."

he feels like a weirdo and he just wants things to be normal so bad. 😭

he also gets really irritated when people are incorrect / do things incorrectly. he has the literal / rigid thinking patterns characteristic of autistic people

PAPA EMERITUS III: Well, it's getting late. AUDIENCE: NOOO! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes! It's not a matter of opinion. It is getting late. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

he tells the audience it is objectively true that it is getting late.

then there's the whole bit where he wants people to clap along to the music but he hates it if people clap wrong or don't clap with the correct rhythm.

and the bit where he asks the audience to say "Meliora" and emphasizes the correct pronunciation versus the incorrect pronunciation.

Terzo strikes me as someone who is constantly trying to perform a very intentionally constructed social personality, not only as an entertainer but as a person. and while he's naturally charismatic and charming, it's actually quite difficult for him to perform this public personality because he's constantly concerned with getting a good grade in social interactions and things being done correctly.

and there are all the quotes about Terzo being a recluse who only interacts with others as much as is strictly necessary. this is definitely clinical depression, but i think his autism is also a factor.

he got comfortable once he settled into a routine and created a script that he could repeat, though. after that, he was really on autopilot during his concerts. which is also so so autistic of him <3

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Pretty in pink

Another reason why I always knew Clairmy was never gonna be endgame.

This piece of meta has been sitting in my drafts for months. Since I watched S2 for the first time, back in January. After yesterday's teaser, I thought I just might dust it off and hang it out to dry in the sun, so here it is and actually, this is much better timing because I get to supplement it with more and newer meta I came up with later on.

So, the second I heard the first few tunes of the soundtrack I just knew.

The Bear | Pop | 02x05

Storer wasn't subtle.

I just knew that C was gonna end up with someone else, or just letting him go, and when I heard Carmy saying these words:

and they rang soooo untrue and unhinged and even forced or coaxed coming from him and in that context, so OOC, etc... I took it as all the confirmation I needed to firmly stand my anti-clairmy ground even before I got to know her.

It was obvious to me that that was not Carmen Berzatto talking, but The Bear Jr., the kid in HS who grew up isolated and under Michael's shadow.

He was coming from a place of complete and utter stuckness, a stagnant position he regressed to, the second his frustrated HS sweetheart won this battle:

He wasn't necessarily lying when he said he liked her, at least not consciously:

But the TENSE was the problem. He said "I like you so much" when it was the HS stuttery kid the one talking, the one who wished SHE talked to him more, so he didn't have to because he was too shy. He should have said liked if he was being honest with himself and her.

He should have told her something along the lines of: "I had a crush on you in HS, and when you came onto me, I choked. This is so not the right timing for me to do this because I'm tied up with the restaurant, and I just... instead of telling you all of that, I took the easy and cowardly way out and gave you the wrong number. Sorry."

BTW, that's a pattern he will have to outgrow because of Syd if he doesn't wanna lose her. He will have to start telling the woman he loves in proper timing how he feels and why and do the chasing if he must because Syd, unlike C, is NOT A CHASER, she's a walker (pattern she will have to outgrow herself too, as I mentioned → here). No more room for the shy kid, he's gonna have to man up in S4.

After delivering those lines that to me were OOC and plain blatant, he turned into Logan to fit in the party and in C's life (or make her fit into his, whatever).

So, my point is that when I heard the Pretty in Pink soundtrack I immediately drew these parallels:

Duckie is Carmy and Andy is the C person. IDGAF who was gonna play Blane, I assumed that character was gonna be introduced to us later in the series, or not at all. But Andie and Duckie do not end up together because they are not right for each other even though they grew up together. They are just not right for each other because coming from the same place doesn't determine shit in life, the choices you make do. In the movie, they didn't choose each other. PerioT. That was a hell of a musical foreshadowing and I thank the sadist for it because the second I associated that musical piece of data with ep 01x03 I was like: “OK, how much more obvious can you be, Storer? Really? Try harder, please.”

Because why would he give Molly Ringwald such important lines in S1 if Pretty in Pink was not a huge lead we needed to follow in S2 when the same plot of one of her biggest hits made a cameo on the show, right?

So, anyway... I always knew these 2 were endgame:

Waayyyy before Syd said it. Actually, Syd didn't say it bc we don't know who she was talking about, it was STORER who did that in the teaser, HE IS THE ONE WHO SYNCS UP THE MUSIC WITH THE FRAMES OR SIGNS OFF ON WHAT THE EDITORS SYNC UP AS PER HIS REQUEST AND HE'S THE ONE WHO DECIDES WHO ARE ENDGAME ON HIS SHOW. So it's Storer who yesterday told us Pretty in Pink doesn't get the guy, which was pretty obvious, if you ask me :)

Bonus track: Syd is his redemption plot. Syd is his endgame, sure, but first, he has to grow up to be the man he can be as opposed to the bear he is. I always said his whole redemption arc is Kierkegaardian:

And he even looks like him, c'mon!

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[liiilyevans]

Singer/Band AU

Part 4. Peep under the cut for a surprise.

When Harry heard his phone ding and read the message, the first word out of his mouth was 'shit.' He wasn't anywhere near ready to host a guest. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. After quickly buzzing the front desk and asking them to let Ron's little sister in, Harry quickly snatched his old plaid blanket off the loveseat and raced back to his bedroom to throw it on the bed. Then he closed the door. She didn't need to see what a mess his room was.

Not that his work space was any better.

He and Ron still lived in a little flat just outside of Dover. They'd looked for other places now that they could both afford it, but nothing had ever come of their search. Ron wanted to be close to his family, and Harry was not about to leave this flat as long as his best friend wanted to room with him. He figured that he only had so much time left before Ron and Hermione moved in together, shagged til she got pregnant, and popped out two point five kids.

The front room was one half living room and kitchen and one half studio. His keyboard was stuck in the corner across from the door while his guitar rack, sporting only three guitars currently, sat to the right of it. On the left side was his desk, cluttered with lyrics ideas, his desktop and two monitors, and what seemed to be a week old sandwich. Quickly, Harry snatched that and dumped it into the trash. The rest of his equipment was to the left of the desk; two mic stands and two microphones, headphones hung over the mic stand, a seat for when he played guitar, some cables running to his computer, and a partition to keep the acoustics sounding crisp when he sang or played.

Besides his desk, his studio area was mostly clean. The rest of the flat on the other hand was a mess.

Hurriedly, he scooped the trash off the counter and shoved it into the already full trash can. Then he grabbed the blue blanket sitting on the old love seat and quickly folded it, his aunt's voice shrilly ringing in his ears about making the place presentable. Everything still looked old and splotchy and like something you'd expect to see from someone who was just getting started in the music industry, not someone who'd been working at for four years and was successful.

That was when Harry heard the knock on his door.

After brushing his hands off on his sweatpants, which he realized he should have changed out of if he didn't want to look like a bum, he pulled the door open. Ginny Weasley was standing there looking up at the top of his door frame, probably at his and Ron's initials Hagrid had carved when he thought that they were moving out. Hagrid must have thought that if he put those there the boys couldn't leave.

Her eyes fell to his then, and Harry deeply regretted not putting more effort into his appearance. She was wearing denim shorts with a striped shirt tucked into the waistband. She also had an oversized denim jacket on. Her hair, similar to Ron's but not quite as orange, was pulled into a ponytail, allowing Harry to get a full look at the constellation of freckles across her nose and checks and her big brown eyes. He hadn't expected her to be this pretty.

"Hi," she said easily. "I'm assuming you're my brother's roommate and not a dumb thief who decided to open the door of the flat he's robbing."

If Harry hadn't been so shocked by her statement, he would have laughed.

"Yeah, I'm Harry," he said, stepping aside to let her in. Nervously, he ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Nice flat," she said before dropping her bag into the only chair he and Ron had. Her eyes immediately snagged on the equipment on the other side of the room, and Harry immediately felt self-conscious, a remnant he'd tried to smash from his childhood. Realistically, he knew that she was the one who should be nervous since he'd been doing this for a while, and she was relatively new to all this. However, none of the people he'd worked with had been in his flat before.

This was his personal space where he decompressed, where he knew that he could write trashy lyrics that didn't have to be perfect because no one was going to see them. It was home and only two people had shared that with him. When Ron mentioned his sister, Harry figured it would be alright to let her in here since she was his best friend's sister, but now, he felt exposed.

"Do you mind?" she asked, pointing to his acoustic Martin.

And, yes, Harry very much did mind, but something in the tilt of her head reminded him of Ron and so he shook his head no.

Ginny beamed and picked up the guitar. Harry thought it was about the brightest smile he had ever seen. After sitting down on his playing stool, she started to strum out a rhythm, which Harry quickly realized was to The Woods. He was slightly impressed that she had been able to pick up the chords just from listening to the audio recording he'd sent her.

"It's supposed to be a G there instead of an F sharp," he said when he heard the slight turn in what she was playing. A easy mistake to make if you were only playing by ear.

Ginny easily corrected herself and continued to strum, unbothered that she'd gotten something wrong. Harry wondered if she was just that confident or if she took criticism well. After a few more run throughs, Ginny stopped playing and offered the guitar to him. Thankfully, Harry took it, relief filling his chest and uncoiling his shoulders.

"Are you going to be this awkward the whole time?" she asked, her nose scrunching up.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to be this sassy the whole time?"

"I prefer sarcastic," Ginny said. "Sassy's a little demeaning, don't you think?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that. Instead, he just strummed his guitar for a few moments before he picked up where Ginny had left off.

"So, how does this work?" she asked.

"What?" Harry said absently, still trying to work out the ending melody.

"This whole collaboration thing," she said. "I've never really done this before." She said it casually like she was learning to swim or something equally as trivial. "I've only ever played with a band before and they've offered suggestions, but I've never sat down and written with someone."

"Who worked on your EP then?" Once it was out of his mouth, he realized how it sounded; like she couldn't have possibly written it herself. Shit.

"I did," she said, her eyes blazing. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Harry winced. "That came out wrong." He stopped strumming and leaned across her to grab the lyrics he'd been working on. The smell of honeysuckle filled his nose. "These are the lyrics I've been working on." He handed them to her then grabbed a pen and handed her that as well. "Feel free to mark them up."

He moved over to the loveseat to put some distance between himself and the redhead, who looked like she still might throttle him. While she looked over the lyrics, he started to strum out the melody again. He could hear her quietly humming as she nodded her head along to the beat.

"Maybe replace 'what' with 'the things'," she said. "I feel like that's more concrete." Then she opened her mouth and sang the line. "There ain't no language for the things I've seen." Her voice was gritty and textured, just like Harry remembered it from her concert. She wasn't a smooth singer, though he was certain she could sing the notes clearly and cleanly if she wanted to. Her voice had character.

"I like that," he said. "Mark it up." She seemed surprised, but began to cross out and write in her change. She probably wouldn't have looked so surprised if she knew he kept all his first drafts on his computer and that version was just a copy.

"This next part," she said, pointing about halfway down the page. "Is this a verse?"

"Chorus," he said, changing the to the chorus melody.

She hummed. "Maybe speed that up?"

And so they went, back and forth, Ginny asking questions and Harry answering anything she asked about the song. When they were done, Harry was fairly confident that they were close to being able to record a demo. Ginny was standing up and stretching when Ron came in, dunking under the doorway.

"What the fuck?" Ron said, his eyes widening as they landed on his sister.

"Nice to see you, too, Ronald," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't know you were coming over," he said. "Have you been working on music?"

"No, just our making out skills," Ginny said.

Ron sputtered, his ears turning red.

This time Harry did laugh at her humor.

She grabbed her bag and waved. "See you later, Harry."

[kacievvbbbb]

Truly from the depths of my struggling heart. Viva La Vida by Coldplay belongs to one Toshinori Yagi aka the one and only All Might.

Coldplay should just sign over the rights of the song at this point promptly too.

[esta-elavaris]

Had a moment today that exemplifies how my family thinks but like, in a way that’s just very sad and makes me glad I don’t think that way.

Showed a relative the amazing painting that friend did for me, and her first response was “you’d be able to sell that for some good money!!!”

Like. No????

For months I’ve discussed this creative trade with this friend, we’ve talked about what the other wants, we’ve gotten excited about it and traded progress pics as we work on it for each other, gotten stoked over making plans to get to the post office and seeing the other finally get it, and it’s just been a very wholesome and very fun project. It took six weeks for us to complete these projects, and now I have something on display in my room that makes me very happy, that’s objectively beautiful, and that I know a friend put a lot of effort into making for me and was THRILLED when I adored it.

And my family’s immediate line of thinking is “make a few quid from it lol”.

I can’t imagine the headspace it must take to go through life like that.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

russ ballard on leaving argent:

(1974)

"Before I told the lads, I was pacing the floor all bloody night, which didn't exactly help health-wise."

"The hardest part about leaving was telling Robert Henrit, our drummer, 'cause we've always been in bands together over the past 12 or 13 years but it was just something I felt I had to do if I was going to do my own thing."

"Even at the time of Hold Your Head Up I wanted to do an album and play all the instruments and I thought hell, I don't want to reach the age of 35 and still be waiting to do something on my own. To produce my own things will give me the satisfaction of knowing that it is down to me, knowing that if anyone was going to take the rap, it would be me, whereas in a band, you can always spread the blame or credit to the rest of the boys."

"It bugged me a little bit because although Rod's a great organist, the solos particularly on my songs went on for too long in my opinion and it got me down. I thought some of the instrumentals on the album went on too long but that's the way Rod feels and you can imagine how these little differences become bigger and bigger year after year until you think, hell, I've got to do something about it."

"You can always change a situation that you are in. So many people sit around and complain and do nothing about it, whether it's in marriage or, in my case, music. But now I've changed my situation and I've always been a great believer in this method."

"I never realised this, but I was talking to Colin the other day about organ solos and he told me that he used to ask Rod in the Zombies' days if he could walk off-stage during the organ solos. Rod apparently couldn't understand why Colin was like this but I can see his point now."

"It's frustrating 'cause I'd like to do more piano and have a bash on the drums but I'm limited and it is frustrating just standing there watching."

"I reckon Argent are one of the best around at the moment and there's still room for improvement, but I think I've got more to offer on my own. We're a very close band and that's why we've lasted so long. Rod has said that we pull in different directions at times and it's perfectly true. I think the group will be better off without me 'cause he can do his thing and he won't have my influence and they'll have more direction."

"I wanna get a drummer, bass player and guitarist, preferably some good young talent who are enthusiastic. It's going to be very hard 'cause I've been in bands since I was 12 and Argent is the first band I've experienced who are totally into music. You'd always get one who was only after the birds and others who were in it for how much money they could get, so I want three guys who are into music and not into the trappings."

"I like to hear a few bum notes on an album as long as the performance is good. I find that Argent are too perfect at times, making each note too good and it doesn't sound real."

[weirdlizard26]

so bizarre to me that my love language is apparently recording music for people. how did this even happen

[logosbot-tm]

Sometimes, I want to complain really loudly on tumblr about random shit I dislike, but I know someone would show up to tell me not to do that.

Sometimes, I enjoy when ppl are allowed to have different opinions ✨️✨️✨️ even if they're negative ✨️✨️✨️

Hell, I love hearing opinions I don't agree w. It's neat to hear what someone else thinks and why!

Yes, complain about that random ass thing, that is (completely unimportant) fuck yeah. I disagree with you, but cool that you have different point of view.

Or hell yeah, you like the thing I dislike? Awesome, tell me all about how it makes you happy.

I don't like it, bc I just don't, but fuck yeah I'll listen to your rambles.

[tidepoolalgae]

.

[perilegs]

kinda related to previous reblog. i have to complain real quick

[david-watts]

now that I am on a computer with a keyboard and not trying to use my blunt malformed arthritic-swollen fingers which I'm certain have some form of nerve damage after consistent frostnip for literal years. I had a very strange dream last night and I think it may be one of those dreams. the ones I remember for years. the ones where... I don't think I can explain that in public without a lot of people suddenly having another reason to hate me and want me committed

[rex101111]

I think Todd's video is actually the more impactful of the two for me. Like with Hbomber, that's like, his thing. He does extensive research about a specific topic and goes into great detail about it. He's in the same general "circle" as Somerton so he makes sense as someone who would like stand up and be like "hey something is WRONG here" and then just spend a very long while detailing exactly what is wrong.

Todd? Todd reviews music, albums and songs. That's his thing. Most of his videos are, at most, maybe half an hour long. His skill set and area of expertise are completely unrelated to Somerton's bullshit and yet even he can just stand up and go "something smells like bullshit" and just tear into Somerton's lies and nonsense for nearly two hours.

And most of Todd's research in that video is, by his own admission, fairly minimal. He googled, he looked up public documents, searched on forums, but nothing the average person doesn't have the time to do if something is bothering them and they want info on it. It's just testament that just about anybody can just...fact check. Look things up. It shows that there's no reason to just take things people say to you at face value if you think something is off. You can suss out bullshit by yourself.

And I just think that's a good thing to keep in mind.

Also of course when Somerton does start lying about something that Todd does have plenty of knowledge in, music, he actually gets mad and really lets the bastard have it. That's good too.

[waffled0g]

Everyone gets “The 90s” look wrong and I hate it

Couple years ago I saw these two board games at the store back to back. Well, not saw them per se, but ya know. Spied them out of the corner of my eye. And for a moment without reading the text, I couldn’t tell you which was which decade at first. Funny. Either they were in a rush to get these out the door or they wanted their throwback trivia game boxes to look uniform. I didn’t think too much of it.

Only, from then on I started seeing it MORE. Every time someone markets a 90s or 80s throwback...

Goddammit they’re identical! What??! How did we let this happen? As a 90s survivor and a designer, this drives me up a wall.

Look, I know I’m late to the party to complain about “the 90s look” when we’re just starting to get sick of the Y2K nostalgia train. But c’mon, the 90s were not The 80s: Part Two™ 

Trust me when I say that we weren’t all wearing neon trapezoids up until the year 2000. The 90s look being peddled is so specific to the tail end of the 80s and an early early part of the 90s - a part of the 90s when it wouldn’t stop being the 80s. This is Memphis design being conflated with the wrong decade.

Keep reading for a long ass graphic design history lesson and pictures of old soda and fast food.

Specifically, the look is Memphis Milano, self-named by the Italian design house Memphis Group. Starting in the early to mid 80s, they made all sorts of furniture, fabrics and sculptures that were like a Piet Mondrian grid painting under heavy radiation. Their whole deal was defying the standards of existing industrial design up to that point on purpose. Chairs had weird arches, bookcases would be in strange alien colors, unusual materials like plastic or elastic were used in place of metal or wood, that sorta thing.

Memphis quickly became the signature look for the decade. You can tell something’s influenced by Memphis design from it’s telltale trademarks:

Clashing, neon colors.

Use of diametric shapes.

Contrasting patterns like zebra print stripes, confetti squiggles and checkerboards.

It wasn’t long before Memphis Milano-inspired design was everywhere in 80s pop culture:

It was a special time, yes.

I was a kindergartener at the tail end of the 80s, so I knew Memphis mostly through the lens of kids media. Toys, clothes, games, tv shows used it like candy colored catnip. Cable channel Nickelodeon more or less adopted the Memphis aesthetic as their signature in-house style and practically built a monument to it at a Florida theme park:

I think this is why folks mistake what decade Memphis is representative of - 90s staples like Nick, Saved By The Bell, Fresh Prince - they all stayed around much longer than the design trend’s expiration date. 

Couple that notion with the fact that companies are slow followers to design trends. Something gets popular and they want to get on the bandwagon? Gotta wait for the ink to dry, gotta wait for the production molds to be made. It would take a few years for them to completely work Memphis outta their system.

Now, this is not to say Memphis is bad! Personally I’m a fan of the aesthetic, if my neon-drenched artwork wasn’t a tip-off already. But it is a trend, and trends never last forever.

So what took the Memphis Milano look down for good? This part’s up for debate, but I personally think it had something to do with this dude:

It’s that grunge music from Seattle that’s so popular with the kids these days dontchaknow.

Once Smells Like Teen Spirit hit in 1991, the Nirvana tone drove the rest of the decade. Clean geometry became weathered, grainy and organic. Bright neon pastels became more bold. Bubblegum pop music sounded fake and manufactured. Attitude and apathy was authentic. Whatever.

Things got grungy. Things got grimy. Olestra was invented.

I think the best way to visualize this transition is how Cherry Coke entered the decade and how it left it:

1992 Memphis on the left, 1998 grunge junkie on the right. Fitting that the 90s would end with a design that looked like Darth Maul’s lungs.

Okay, so what should 90s retro design look like?

Continue on to PART TWO! Spoilers: No VHS filters or vaporwave needed, but maybe bring an antacid.