#rubberband man^ to me

[sunnyesteryuri]

static shock yuri !!!!!!

not ben 10 related but my yuriful ass is kinda shipping rubberband man's female form with sharon since she's already dating rbm in general and I love making traditionally straight ships into yuri :p

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

i very much do not need to be coming up with a preliminary cast for a book i know nothing about and will not write until november at the earliest, but HERE WE ARE, I GUESS,

[love-songs-for-emma]

every day i wake up and put on my silly lil necklaces & bracelets one clasp or slide over the wrist at a time, just like everybody else

[supercreig]

Bah. I'm done fighting with my net.

Guess it's to bed I go.

[ceilidho]

prompt: you and Price get in an accident (1.6k)

-

He comes into your life like nothing less than divine intervention.

A fender bender, of all things. It’s a bad day and you’re distracted, too busy thinking about your dad calling to tell you that he lost ten thousand from his retirement fund when the stock he’d invested in crashed and how you’re supposed to help him out of this mess, and the roads are slick with that last snowfall of early spring, still unsalted even hours after the snow started. 

So when you slam on the brakes at the last second after noticing the car in front of you stopped at a red light, your car slips on the ice and slides forward, hitting the back of the stopped car and sending it forward a foot. It’s quick and sudden, and though you stepped on the brakes early enough to avoid a worse collision, your head snaps forward with the jolt and the seatbelt yanks you back violently, winding you. 

Your hands go tight around the wheel, eyes so wide that they nearly pop out of your head as you stare at the car directly in front of you. All of the dread in the world pools in your mouth and then down your throat when you swallow, heart galloping in your chest. You almost can’t believe it for a second.

Then the car in front of you—a big, fuck-you SUV that only worsens your anxiety because of all cars to hit, it had to be someone with a fancy, brand new car that probably has a lawyer on speed dial—puts their hazards on and the driver’s side doors opens and reality snaps like a rubberband back into you. With shaky hands, you put your car into park and put your hazards on as well. 

“Oh shit,” you whisper under your breath. An understatement.

A tall man in a brown parka steps out of the car and stares at you through the windshield, a stern expression on his face. He has a beanie pulled down over his head and a full beard, and for a second, the mental image of a bear emerging out of its den flickers in your imagination, all snow-dusted and irritable. 

He’s grizzled and older than you. The only consolation is that he doesn’t match the image of the driver that you had in your head—no seven thousand dollar suit or bluetooth earpiece; instead, he seems like the kind of man who’d drive an old pickup or a schooner, wearing an Aran sweater and a skipper's cap, with a pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. He seems out of place in the middle of the road in your small town. 

But he is real, and even though you watch him march over to you, you flinch when he raps on the window with his knuckles. 

“Roll the window down,” he instructs, voice muffled through the glass, and you do because the command cuts through the buzzing in your ear. When you do, he reaches into your car with one hand and pops the lock, then takes a step back to open the door. You’d freak out if the situation were different, but you must be in shock because all you can do is stare at him dumbly as he leans into the car and undoes your seatbelt. “C’mon, sweetheart. Out.”

It doesn’t take much coaxing to get you to step out of the car. All he has to do is step back and you get out, knees nearly buckling, like jelly under you. He holds your elbow to steady you. Your elbow feels delicate and tiny in the width of his palm. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks, looking all over your face.

You want to answer him, but all you can do is whimper, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, none of that. It was an accident. You alright though? Anything hurt?”

“Uh…I don’t…I don’t know.” It hasn’t really sunk in yet, you think. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be sore all over, but right now you feel fine. On the verge of shaking out of your skin, teeth nearly clattering together, but more or less okay. 

“Nothing too bad then. Wanna give me your insurance so we can deal with this, sweetheart?” 

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Let me just—” You move to reach back into your car to fetch your purse, but he stops you, insisting on getting it for you. 

And you let him, docile like a doll, watching as he leans into your car and across the seats to grab your purse, big frame looking comically large in your little car. Looking like he’d barely fit in the front seat if he tried to get in. 

He comes back out with your little purse in hand and opens it, handing you your wallet and purse by its strap. Your fingers are still shaking when you pull out your insurance information and hand it to him. Everything feels surreal and muted, and the tears are going to flow at any minute now if you don’t get a handle on it. 

He must notice because a knuckle fits under your chin and lifts your head up. “Hey, what’s wrong? 

“No, no,” you say, reaching up to swipe your fingers over your eyes. “I’m just—I’m really embarrassed. I’ve never been in an accident before.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” His voice is much softer now, pitched low in the way handlers talk to spooked animals. He puts his thumb to your chin, holding you in place. “No one got hurt. Could’ve been worse than it was, and we’ve both got insurance, so what’s done is done. I don’t look mad, do I?”

Trapped between his thumb and knuckle, you can only give a slight shake of your head. “No.” 

“Then let’s just take it one step at a time and no tears. Okay?”

You sniff. “Okay.”

“Okay. I’m going to call the insurance, so you get back in the car and sit tight, alright?” 

You nod. 

“Good girl,” he says, a hint of praise in his voice. “Put the heat on too. It’s too cold for that jacket.”

That makes you go warm all over, flustered and tongue-tied. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to expect a response out of you. The only thing he expects you to do is get back in the car and turn the heat back on, the warm air billowing into your face when he leans in to crank it up all the way. 

Though most of the sound is muffled from inside the car, you turn down the heat and crack the window open slightly to hear him give his name to his insurance company. John Price. Even his name evokes the image of him somewhere else in the world, settled into the nooks and crannies of history. 

John handles everything for you while you sit in the car like he told you to, settling everything with the insurance companies and calling for a tow truck right after that. You don’t realize that, of course, until the tow truck pulls up in front of his car and he comes back to usher you out of your car. 

“How am I supposed to get home?” you croak. The tow truck driver hitches your car to the bed of the lift and pulls it up, your little car looking pathetic all alone up there. 

“I’ll drive you home then bring mine in later.”

“Why can’t I drive my car to the garage too?” You’re petulant now that you’ve learned that he won’t bite, and you know it’s petulance because you don’t actually put up much of a fight to get your car taken off the tow truck. 

That petulance trembles when his expression grows stern again. “You’re getting it checked by a mechanic before you get behind the wheel again,” he tells you in no uncertain terms, eyes daring you to contradict him.

You don’t. It’s hard to argue with someone so adamant on your wellbeing. A mechanic in later days will tell John, with you by his side, that your car was mostly fine apart from some slight damage to the bumper, but that you made the right call to bring it in just in case the frame cracked during the accident.

John’s arm will be around your waist at the time and he’ll pull you tighter into his side when the mechanic says that. And what do you do but go with it, curling into his side like it’s natural. You’ll have already fucked him by then anyway. It’ll be no less forward than letting him take you for coffee and then back home, following you up to your apartment and into your bed. 

Now though, you let him usher you into the passenger seat of his car and shut the door behind you, the wind cutting off abruptly. It only comes back when the door opens on his side. 

You rattle off your address and watch bemusedly as he programs it into his GPS and hits save. You don’t have the temerity to question him, to poke a hole in the bubble of familiarity ballooning around the two of you. The real world seems far away in his car, like you’re in limbo, the rules different here somehow. 

“How about a coffee?” he asks at the next light, putting his hand on your thigh and shaking when you don’t respond right away. “Does a hot drink sound good right about now?”

“I guess?” you say. In truth, it sounds great, but you’re losing the thread of this conversation, your old preoccupations getting further and further away from you. 

John gives your thigh a squeeze, lingering for a beat before pulling away. “Good. It’ll be a nice little pick me up before we go home. My treat.”

All you can do is nod, your throat dry.

[thirst2]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨ 🫶🏼

Speaking of Bruce Springsteen…

"Incident on 57th Street" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yk8iXy-aw30)

"Street Punk Gospel Choir" by (not the Bruce Springsteen song but the band) Candy's Room (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzqHaCFYqwY)

(hey, y'all – prepare yourself for) "The Rubberband Man" by The Spinners (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSMVflSBKx8)

"Cumberland Gap" rendition by Meredith Moon (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubC7ClPrH1g)

"Everything Looks Better (in Hindsight)" by The Wild Reeds (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=osW7rC4YiXw)

[thatkindofwoman]

My hands can be cataloged as right thumb, index, and ring covered by a light dusting of a weak charcoal color spray paint. I was spray painting a recently repaired, long-ago broken wrought iron chair. I ran out of spray paint before completing the second one, and admittedly did a bad job on the first. It's fine.

The right ring finger has a brass dome ring I purchased at my favorite store in Cape May two summers ago, I believe. Givens, the store. 2 years, and estimate. The wrist wears a loose rubberband, a gold permanent jewelry bracelet courtesy of Janna, a faux crystal stretch bracelet, and beads I bought at the one headshop I used to like in town.

On the left hand, another ring purchased at Givens in Cape May, 3 summers ago. Round, imperfect malachite. I am rough on this ring. I am rough on my hands. My thumbnail was bruised for several weeks; I cannot remember the exact damage inducer, probably my own clumsiness. The wrist is adorned with two silver permanent bracelets, much more delicate than the other side, two silver bangles and a gold. Cheap 5 year old target beaded bracelets I can't remember which target, something is telling me the one outside of Philly I stopped into on a whim as I needed a brush and clib for my hair. Maybe. No target since DEI rollback. I don't miss it as much as I thought I would.

I just seeded the long garden bed in the most eastern part of my garden with Radishes, Corn, cucumbers, and potatoes. I lied. The potatoes I put in hours earlier between answering work calls and editing a blog about shipping hazardous materials. Drafting proposals to train 100 people in regulatory compliance for DOT Hazmat Wastes. I refuse to retain the blog's details, much like I refuse to retain any more details about my day job. I do everything on the back end: the shipping of our compliance guidebook, photography, website, contracts, bills, graphic design, marketing, customer service, editing, and talking down my coworkers. I know what we do. I don't find it interesting, but here we are... It started September 2017. Well, it started decades before that, but that's when I started full time, and now.... I manage. I actually manage the majority of the business and the buildings. I managed the business through a plague and numerous mental breakdowns. I also have started The Publishing House back up, as of October of last year, and I help my mum with the flower farm. Pop-up markets, live music, mutual aid, art.

On a whim of me being me, I am running for Borough Council, much like city council but this small rural Pennsylvanian town isn't a city. It's a Boro. I'm tired, and sensitively disoriented, but I know what a difference I can make. And allowing the spot to go to someone who may facilitate hatred or harm was too much to bear. I am running unopposed. So unless someone campaigns as a write-in, I am a shoo-in.

Here goes 35, and I'm taking on more to impact my community more.

I am also approaching 2 years since meeting the guy and a year and a half of being together. I tell you, the frustrations of being in a relationship with a man in his early 40s make me want to scrub the world of gender norms and relationship expectations and start fresh. And as much as communicating that with my guy wants to happen, I am learning I must prioritize myself, knowing myself and my mind first before I can make a clear statement. Blurting out my feelings and problems to a nonconfrontational man who isn't the best communicator is, well, it's a whole thing.

Outside of the ins of my life, I feel broken by the horrors. We're living under a dictator, capitalism and white supremacy have won out, and the fight is harder and harder. I am trying to grow a garden, and do my jobs and maintain a social circle, and take care of my dogs, my cats, my relationship. My family. I am watching, and donating, and sharing information as best I can. I am trying not to burn something to the ground, at least right now.

Is coming back on Tumblr a good idea? Probably not. It's a shell of what it once was. Close friends are now strangers who I follow on Instagram and occasionally reconnect with, or who I'm friends with on FB because they stopped following me on Instagram in my huge migration farther and farther left. I truly miss when the internet was on your laptop or desktop and your phone wasn't the portal to the world's horrors, lies, and hopes. It was a way to call or text a friend, and not the end all and be all of content, direction, health, emails, propaganda, advertisements, and all the bullshit.

I am hoping this prompts some writing and inspiration at the least. Here this little corner of the internet. I hope.

[kittynugg]

I made you some stuff

"TTHE AUDACITY WE FIOUND IT ITS REAL" IM FUCKING ROLLIN G THAT IS SO IN CHARACTER HBKVKBHKSJVJ

AND THE FUCKING FIRST ONE WITH THE AUTISM stan's just "noooo... no wayyyyy.." ford's just internally screeching "DIPPER WAS RIGHT" and stan continues just sarcastically denying it and this poor lady is waiting for him to shut the fuck up to recommend a psychiatrist and stan ushers ford away to show her the diagnosis papers he already has

you depicted like EXACTLY what i was going for with the mac n cheese btw. like. he's so petty about it "those fucking normal people.. eating at the table where its sanitary.." i was actually originally planning for him to reconsider eating on the floor because of sanitation because its ford we're talking but i ultimately decided against it because eating on the floor is comfortable and let the man be comfortable he's been through so much already and he's gonna go through mo- i mean whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat thats crazyyyyy did someone hear something

ford breakdown in the gift shop core 👏👏👏 again that is exactly what i pictured in my head writing that you done good tyrant you done good. he's just uhh,, adjusting. yeah. i dont think ford was a crybaby when he was a kid but you really gotta take into consideration that this man has just rubberbanded FIFTY FOUR years and just has to deal with that shit. i think it'll get better in time

he would absolutely just freeze against the nearest wall if there were too many other people in a room though. i feel like he's like mugman with his stage fright

like this is literally what i imagine he looks like

i think i drew that lil scene actually and didnt post it bc i didnt like it lemme dig it up for you in return for your art

yeah tysm for the art though i fucking love it man let me just

quick stimmy i doodled out. just for you

[musicmoreweirdthangood]

Klaus Nomi, 1982: "Rubberband Lazer"

It wasn't enough for him to fuse opera with quirky synth pop on tracks like "Simple Man" and "Nomi Song (Know Me)" so for this song about being a space pilot he threw in some cowboy music

[kaibacorpstocksplit]

this does stress me out like what are you doing

you spent however long organizing those and theyre gonna fly everywhere the second you move. that or theyre so tightly packed theyre gonna be a pain to get out. you could at least put rubberbands on them. surely somewhere in kaibacorp there is a supply room. cmon man.

[batmanwhoblazes]

Asked a friend to draw the underrated Rubberband Man from Static Shock for me— and god damn did she deliver.

Rubberband Man!

🎨 — Starkiss | Starkiss_Art

[featureenvyproductions]

happy new year time for me to bother you with a TRAILER for my short animated film about a mars mission 🎉

surprise I have cobbled together shots I have done from my [traditional] animation I'm working on along with a TEST recording (which is why it sounds like it's being recorded in a toilet that is also a cathedral) of some of the music clips. I tried to edit it like a Real TM Trailer but the pacing is a little weird bc it's a silent film sorry

OK LOTTA BACKGROUND INFO UNDER THE CUT

So if you haven't seen my other posts, I sort of have this thing for doing projects I know damn well shouldn't be done by Just Me however if there's 3 things I enjoy it's exacerbating my wrist problems, traditional animation, and social isolation so last year to get my mind of the trash fire of an election season I bought a bunch of cels and paint and started working on this short film. It's gonna be maybe 10-15 minutes when done and, aside from a handful of tweaks*, it is all traditional 2d animation - hand drawn AND painted (which is why the frame rate makes even the recycled clips in 80s he-man cringe) .

Anyway if you didn't gather from the intertitles, this [a FICTIONAL STORY WHERE EVERYONE IS FICTIONAL PLEASE NO ONE SUE ME] is about the US and Russia collaborating on a mission to Mars where they're gonna send some folks up there to hang out and do research indefinitely until another mission happens. While the crew - comprised of an astronaut Adam and a cosmonaut Yuri - is in transit, war breaks out between the US and Russia back on earth, snapping the ever tightening rubberband of willing cooperation between the countries. Everything goes to hell, and in this case it also threatens to compromise the mission, meaning an uncertain future for the crew, who have to choose between loyalty to the death cult of blind nationalism, or loyalty to science and each other.

I am aiming to finish this in 2025...The story has been in the works for a while, but I only recently felt like "huh I kinda wanna animate this"

Im sorry the music is so....Like That lol. I wanted to get this done today before I go back to work and like I don't think anyone who follows me really minds if it's not perfect rn. See I only have a keyboard at the moment and I was trying to do an aux cable from it to my laptop to keep from recording the UNMANAGEABLE CLOMPCLOMPCLOMPITYCLOMPPP of the keys but it just made the sound toilety uhg oh well. Anyway I am writing some original stuff for the eventual whole film, but for this trailer I arranged some snippets of Tchaikovsky's sleeping beauty for piano (the score is in the public domain fyi...My arrangement is my own...). I've got some other bits of that in the works as well which will also show up in the full film.

Oh another thing is, most of the technical stuff should be fairly grounded in science (maybe aside from some Artistic License Engineering for story/ease of animation reasons, but....). So there's that. I don't think it makes much of a difference for the trailer but IM TELLING YOU BECAUSE I DID SIT THERE AND PAINSTAKINGLY RUN A FUCKING ORBIT PROPAGATION ALGORITHM TO BALLPARK WHERE THE SHIP SHOULD BE AT CERTAIN POINTS IN THE NARRATIVE AND YOU WILL KNOW I SUFFERED. FOR YOU, THE AUDIENCE.

*full disclosure by tweaks I mean stuff it's barely noticeable to you but impractical for me bc cels are REALLY expensive, so stuff like blinking and mouth movements I drew in photoshop because that's probably 100s of mouth-or-eye cels I can't really afford to waste, and you can only scratch paint off and reuse a cel so many times before it looks like crap. Some of the panning I also did by scanning the hand drawn cels and then changing the subject position in photoshop for each frame because I'm compositing frames essentially by sticking them face down in a stack on my scanner bed and haven't found a good way to do it yet. I've attempted to built a little track before but can't get it flat enough for the cover to make contact with the frames and smash them into the glass. If you have a solution for this, let me know.

anyway the target audience of this is people who liked Apollo 13 but wished it was worse quality and was more gay and anarchist so if you are vaguely that please enjoy and follow for updates on this costly and questionable venture

[russthechaotic]

Here are some of my headcannons for Hotstreak:

1) Francis has severe mental health issues that have caused him to act out. Quite possible intense separation anxiety as we see with Wet and Wild. Also PTSD as we saw in No Man's an Island when he reacted to possibly being back in a hospital setting.

We already know in the show that he has severe anger issues quite possibly steeming since the second grade. Which could be linked into possible trauma he might have experienced before then as most children who are acting out severely are only reacting that way because of a trauma response.

Plus consider this everytime Francis is arrested when he has his public outbursts its never really established that he goes to a proper jail like rubberband man did. Every time we hear him "going away" its usually assumed he went to a psychward to get counciling for his issues rather than to just sit and rot in jail.

2) Despite what most people think Francis is pretty smart. As we have no idea where his family is within the show I would say it safe to guess that in my opion that Francis is a runaway and has been living on his own ever since.

If that were the case he would have to be very observant and crafty to get by all those years on his own with or without his gang assistance also to add onto that real quick.

Francis was a leader of a gang of a few men who did as he ordered. That means he has some quality of leadership and communication as to lead a gang into a literal gangwar with the potential of death being a highly likely outcome you'd have to had some serious level of high trust within your leader.

3) I think Francis has severe trust issues. As he really don't hold alot of people close that he would consider friends much less allies. Only characters that we even see that are close to his allies are Talon from there interactions, and Static in a friendenemy type of way.

It seems that people have to have certain qualities or prove themselves to him to earn his trust/respect. And we can see that with how he interacts with people who he doesn't respect or care for. Prime example is Ebon once he lost respect for Ebon seeing his true colors after Talon exposed him for the weakling that he was Francis was quick to disregard Ebons orders and do his own thing.

Now I wouldn't put Virgil in that category of people he doesn't respect. Yes in the start of the show he was a big problem for Virgil to deal with. But it wasn't really established that Francis went out of his way to target Virgil specifically. Francis targets anybody that stands in his way or causes problems for him. When he beat up Virgil I interpret it as street code ethics. Now I will say this Francis is a bully, and he is a gang member.

With that in mind people that come from this life style have morals and codes that they run by. Francis is a prime example of that and how he acts towards people especially Wade who is another gangmeber within the show. Virgil is a civillian and most people who are street tend to not have problems or beef with them.

However if a civilian were to over step there bounds and meddle in things that they shouldn't stick there nose into people from this lifestyle will make it there mission to give warning signs as to tell the civilian to mind there own business. It usually never escalates after that as again a civillain has nothing to do with said person and what they have going on. Which is what I believed happens between Francis and Virgil.

4) All that being said I have reason to believe that Francis knows Virgil is Static and because of that grew to respect not only Static but also Virgil. Sure they have disagreements here and there but there is a underlining of respect between the two nonetheless.

5) I think Francis is Spanish this one is a more fun one for me. As from what I recall it was never really established that he was white like Richie who is Irish. And seeing how the setting of Dakato is a mixed population I would say it safe to say Francis is Spanish.

[labyrinthian-orbistertius]

[FIRST CONTACT]

Date: 02/01/2X42

Neri holds the pendrive in her hand, examines the slip of plastic and metal closely. Ah, how wondrous! This small thing will help pay for her needs for the rest of this year: food, shelter, clothes. A few additional creature comforts, and treats for her crows. She whistles lightly, tosses it into the air and catches it again.

She strolls out of the building, looming large and lustrous behind her. In her mind, it explodes into a towering inferno as she walks away, a billowing beacon of smoke, flame, with corporate hopes and dreams melting into nothing.

Nothing of that sort happens, of course. But it's fun to imagine.

The corporation purchasing her services were to contact her within 48 hours of successful extraction to arrange a pick-up, so in the meantime… all she needs is to lie low. Easy enough, with her ability. The young woman tosses the drive into the air again, smiling.

"Ah. There you are."

Freeze.

With an unnatural slowness, Neri twists her neck to look in the direction of the voice. Eyes widen and twitch - a faceless man stands in front of her. For a moment - roar in her ears. Pressure, clamping down on her skull - dizziness - a sense of falling, sidewalk rushing up to meet her except it isn't concrete, instead it has jaws and it's going to devour her whole and this faceless man is watching and laughing with eyes of frozen flames - she's stretching, a rubberband pulled to its snapping point, thins in the middle - stretch - streeeeetch - sna -

The roar quiets. The pressure dissipates. She is breathing, still.

Neri is standing, she hasn't been devoured; she is not a rubberband pulled to its breaking point.

Another deep breath, and she looks at the man. Not faceless, but absolutely a man in a mask that covers his entire head, with bright blue lenses for eyes that make her shiver and hunch in suit jacket, not liking the intensity. White hat, long white coat with a high collar. Most importantly, she sees the hand tucked into coat pocket, not moving, with the outline of gun pressing through the fabric.

"Who are you?" She asks, finally, voice high and clear.

The masked man tilts his head, and she sees those lenses…squint?

"Because," he says, "I come to you in good faith -"

Neri's eyes flicker to the gun. He holds both hands up and above his shoulders, showing them empty.

"I come to you in good faith," he repeats, "and my name is Cypher."

Her eyebrows raise. "That is not your real name."

"Neither is Neri," he says lightly, with a little laugh.

And she hisses in response, but he doesn't comment on that, as if she'd done nothing more banal than sneeze. She can't see his expressions, and it's throwing her off, unsettles her.

"I have an offer for you, on behalf of my employer. You work for us, we provide everything you might need. Better pay, too. In exchange, you give us the drive in your hand."

Neri considers this, face blank.

"You won't remember me after this," she says at length.

Cypher laughs at that, quick and reedy. "Ah, that is where you are wrong. I see everything, you included, and I know how to -."

"Okay, Cypher. Sure. Why not?" With a snappy little movement, she tosses him the drive. He catches it with a swiftly, and once he nods, Neri turns and walks away, disappearing quickly from view.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

[folklore-barnes]

fourth of july | playlist

even tho there's not much to fucking celebrate

party in the u.s.a. // miley cyrus

made in the usa // demi lovato

r.o.c.k. in the u.s.a. // john cougar mellencamp

i gotta feeling // black eyed peas

material girl // madonna

you spin me round // dead or alive

tik tok // kesha

end game // taylor swift, future, ed sheeran

end of the world // miley cyrus

mr. electric blue // benson boone

i had some help // post malone, morgan wallen

fourth of july // fall out boy

firework // katy perry

summer heat // sun room

born in the u.s.a. // bruce springsteen

summer of '69 // bryan adams

dancing queen // abba

don't stop believin' // journey

please mr. postman // the marvelettes

beat it // michael jackson

you're the one that i want // grease

uptown girl // billy joel

playing with the boys // kenny loggins

rubberband man // the spinners

escape // rupert holmes

nuevayol // bad bunny

let's groove // earth wind & fire

king of my heart // taylor swift

hot n' cold // katy perry

telephone // lady gaga, beyoncé

espresso // sabrina carpenter

fight for your right // beastie boys

get low // lil jon, the east size boyz, ying yang twins

american pie // don mclean

joyride. // kesha

a bar song // shaboozey

all the stars // kendrick lamar, sza

looking for love // the strike

pour me a drink // post malone, blake shelton

ymca // village people

lose yourself // eminem

gold trans am // kesha

we can't stop // miley cyrus

young american heart // benson boone

the chain // fleetwood mac

[nerdgatehobbit]

The music industry subplot in "Duped" is somewhat interesting, mostly in showing that Adam Evans has grown to be not retaliatory when it looks like he's being snubbed. Luckily for him, it was the villain of the episode Replikon (played by Coolio) replacing AJ McLean (played by himself).

Frieda and Daisy turn out to be among the local Backstreet Boys fans in Dakota, although the episode ends with them being as baffled by the two guys' antics which helps make the situation more of a 'not getting the other gender' set-up than mocking teenage girls for enjoying boy bands. It also helps that Frieda and Daisy both enjoy working on the school paper and the class website.

Part of me wants to be annoyed that Frieda and Daisy are being treated as an 'unit' and/or as swappable characters, but it's also nice to see two female characters working together on an activity and not being treated as lesser for having a 'standard' teenage girl interest. Furthermore, it was funny to see them take advantage of Richie's "I know something you don't know" taunt later in the episode to bribe him into telling them the secret.

Here's a look at the cartoon-ified AJ McLean. It was nice to see this episode showcase how Adam and Virgil are getting along better, as are Rubberband Man and Static.

This was a decent episode, but I don't have a lot to say about it, particularly as a lot of it was showcasing its guest stars, neither of whom I know much about. I'd be more concerned about Coolio playing a villain while AJ McLean plays 'himself', but I think that was more to position Replikon as Adam's foil to show how he's grown as a character since his first appearance. In "Duped", Replikon commits his crimes in an effort to take shortcuts to fame in the music industry.