#listen all the songs sound the same

[unreal-unearthing]

I have at various points of my life been a fan of tswift…. But…. dare I say it…. This new album is….. bad.

[theconfusedacorn]

Yall,

Who

THE FUCK

Was going to tell me that:

The guy from The Amazing Devil, is ACTUALLY a guy named Joey Batey, and that this guy, Joey Batey, PLAYS THE BARD GUY IN THE WITCHER!?

AND HE DOES MORE MUSIC FOR THE SERIES BECAUSE HES A BARD!?

HELLO!?

I COULD'VE GOTTEN MORE MUSICAL CONTENT FROM THIS MAN THIS WHOLE TIME!?

WHO THE FUCK WAS GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT "BURN BUTCHER BURN"!?

SERIOUSLY!?

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME!?

[xviruserrorx]

Something that The Amazing Devil does so beautiful is that even though a lot of their songs are very wordy they don't rush or skip over the rests in-between. And my favorite examples of this are Elsa's Song and Old Witch Sleep/Good Man Grace, because in old with/good man the beggining is so nice because they put so much pauses between each phrase and even parts like the "Sleep now, oh, she said" there is this smallest rest between the "Now" and "Oh" and it's so subtle but if you don't do that rest it's very very noticeable because your just slurring these two (almost) very short phrases of their own. Then in Elsa's Song l love how the tempo and when they come in, is almost dragging, they are coming in at the very last second of the beat and it makes the tone of the song so so so good

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[hecksupremechips]

Come back home when you have some sense

You can throw your life away just not at my expense

You’re not the son I raised

[stuckinapril]

listening to all the demos victoria monet did for ariana grande is insane bc how did this woman have it in her to sit on all this material and not be frustrated about it

[a-whole-lot-of-things]

i love dead boy detectives to death, and hope with all my being that we can Somehow pull off getting it back (through netflix or otherwise)

but honestly if we cant? if we get stuck at where we are now forever? i honestly think ill miss the potential s2 soundtrack the most

[asurrogateblog]

just because you two are the blue ones to your red counterparts does not mean you're the normal ones

[good-beans]

Pros of Milgram releasing song snippets at the beginning of each trial: it gives us info about the characters to start theorizing on throughout the trial instead of waiting a year to have ideas about the later prisoners, it gives us something to look forward to between songs, it lets us (slightly) prepare for the emotions we're getting ourselves into with each, and more!

Cons: It has been months of me vibrating with the thought "Double is going to kick ass" and it will continue for months!!!!

[chibishortdeath]

Mspaint is really fun actually—

[pcktknife]

if you havent heard em all. all versions are on the wiki on the side banner. music player's at the bottom (^^)

[yourmythicalbest]

best rhett and link vocals in no specific order, according to me, a classically trained opera singer who still cares too much about rhett and link

[bedforddanes75]

they should allow me full access to every stimulant so i can do them all at once then die

[steakout-05]

i miss her everyday

[larabar]

never getting over how. melancholy im here sounds

the chords in the chorus sound a little more triumphant at first but it kinda just sounds like a half victory. the pain of the journey is still there, even at the end of it all. but its alright. i will be with you. im here

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Heavily encouraging y'all to send me songs to listen to (not necessarily for the gay porn writing playlist)