#working on a YouTube playlist with all of the songs

[itneverendshere]

shy!sweetheart!reader being secretly a metalhead (enjoying bands like falling in reverse and bad omens). rafe finding out like 🤨

this was ridiculously cute to write😌 and i felt like it feet pogue!bartender!reader's universe 100% so i did it.....if it wasn't want you wanted IM SORRY but it's canon in my head and my fingers worked really fast to write this down lmao. thank you for the request!!🩵🫂

you're in the walls that i made - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was get home, toss on your favorite oversized hoodie, and dive into a YouTube rabbit hole of random videos on your phone.

Rafe, of course, was your ride—like usual. He’d somehow appointed himself as your unofficial chauffeur after shifts, and you weren’t exactly complaining. You were saving up for a car, and you were almost there, only a few more weeks and you’d have your baby.

But it was nice to have a reliable ride, even if it came with his very questionable music taste.

"Alright, let's go," Rafe said, pulling up in his shiny black truck as you slid into the passenger seat.

The smell of leather and cologne hit you immediately, as did the unmistakable thumping bass of whatever rap song he had blasting. The lyrics were, as usual, about women, money, and something about getting high on a yacht. You made a face without even realizing it—like you did every time.

"What's that look for?" Rafe smirked, glancing over at you as he pulled out of the parking lot.

You shrugged, hoping he’d let it slide. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to let anything slide. "Nah, you do that every time I play my music.”

You bit your lip, wondering if he thought you were a snob now. “What? No I don’t.”

He shot you a side-eye, his smirk widening as he pressed a little harder on the gas. "You got somethin' better on your playlist?"

It wasn’t like you were embarrassed. You just didn’t think Rafe, with his expensive taste and rich boy vibes, would get it. But before you could answer, the radio cut in between songs with an ad, and you almost jumped in your seat.

“On September 6th, for one night only, Bad Omens will be performing live at the Greyhall venue on the mainland! Get your tickets now before they sell out!”

Your heart raced. Bad Omens. They were one of your favorite bands, and they were going to be right there—just a ferry ride away. You stared at the radio, gripping the sides of the seat like you were about to take off.

"Wait, what?" You said under your breath, but loud enough that Rafe noticed.

He furrowed his brow, glancing between you and the road. "You okay? What's up?"

You bit your lip, feeling the excitement rising inside you and knowing it was pointless. You couldn’t afford concert tickets, let alone the ferry and everything else that came with it. But still, you couldn’t help the tiny squeak of frustration that escaped.

"It’s nothing. Just…one of my favorite bands is playing."

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. "Favorite bands?" His voice lilted with surprise. "You never told me you had a favorite band. Wait—what band?"

You fidgeted in your seat, the seatbelt suddenly feeling too tight. "Bad Omens."

He blinked. "Who?"

Of course. You sighed. "They're a metalcore band. Like heavy, but not just noise. They actually sing. And scream. It’s complicated."

Rafe's expression was priceless—like you just told him you were secretly a wizard or something.

"Metalcore?" He repeated, testing the word,"Wait, hold up. You’re telling me you like that screamo stuff?"

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You? The girl who got him by the balls since he laid his eyes on you? The quiet, sweet, always-put-together girl he drove home after work, into metalcore? It was like you just told him you had a secret double life.

You shrugged, feeling yourself blush a little. "It’s not just screamo. There's a lot more to it. It's deep."

“Screamo stuff,” he repeated, trying to wrap his head around it. His eyes moved from the road back to you, still processing. You were full of surprises, and every time he learned something new about you, it knocked him off his feet. He wasn’t used to it. Most girls he’d been with were pretty predictable—into the same stuff, liked the same fancy dinners, designer bags, the whole kook lifestyle. And then there was you.

You still sounded a little defensive, your fingers messing with the hem of your shirt. “I swear, there’s actual singing and meaning behind the lyrics.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, still smirking, but he wasn’t laughing at you. He was actually impressed. You really didn’t care what anyone thought, did you? He couldn’t even pretend to understand the music, but it wasn’t just that—it was everything about you that threw him off in the best way.

"So that’s why you’re always making faces at my music? ‘Cause it’s not—what, hardcore enough for you?"

You couldn’t help but giggle. "I mean yeah, kinda." You glanced over at him, like you were waiting for him to crack a joke or say something stupid, but all he could do was stare at you like you’d just become ten times more interesting. “What, I don’t look like someone who’d enjoy heavy music?”

He laughed, shaking his head.  “I would've never guessed. You’re always so quiet. Sweet. I thought you’d be into, I don’t know, something soft and cute. You look like you’d be into Taylor Swift, not dudes screaming about whatever it is they scream about.”

You let out a small laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He loved that laugh. “Well, I do like Taylor Swift. But, you know, metal is just...it hits different.”

Rafe’s face went from shock to something else, like he was putting pieces together in his head. "Wait, that explains so much. Every time I put on something with a chill beat, you look like you’re dying inside."

"I just have different taste," you admitted.

"Damn, never thought I’d see the day," he muttered, more to himself. “So, this band of yours—Bad Omens—where they playing?"

"Greyhall in September,” you said quietly. "But it’s fine. I can’t afford to go."

He frowned. "The hell you can’t. Just get the tickets."

You blinked at him. "I can’t, Rafe. They’re probably expensive, and I’ve got rent and bills. Y’know, real life stuff?"

He furrowed his brow, like the concept of not being able to afford something was completely foreign to him. “It’s just tickets. How much could they be?”

"Probably more than I make in a week. Plus the ferry, the drinks, food—it's not that simple."

He glanced at you, like he was doing the math in his head. The guy lived in a world where nothing was “that simple” because everything was already done for him. He didn’t have to think about rent or ferry costs or budgeting for groceries. That wasn’t Rafe’s reality, and for a second, you could see it in his eyes—he forgot that your world wasn’t his.

"Alright," he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, "I’ll get them."

"What?"

"I’ll get the tickets," he repeated, more casual this time, like it was the easiest solution in the world. "You wanna see them, right? So I’ll buy the tickets."

Your mouth fell open. "Rafe, no. You can’t just—"

He looked at you like you’d just said something offensive. "I can.”

"No, you’re not buying me concert tickets. That’s ridiculous."

He rolled his eyes, acting like it was no big deal. “I’ve spent more on dumber shit. Consider it an early birthday gift. Or whatever."

“Do you even know when my birthday is?”

He didn’t even miss a beat, "October 8th” he said, his voice so smooth and confident that it caught you off guard.

Your jaw dropped a little, and you stared at him. "Wait—how do you know that?"

He shrugged casually, but he was proud of himself. "What, you think I don’t pay attention to you?”

When it came to you, he was locked in. Every detail, every little thing you mentioned, he was soaking it up. He knew. Out of all the random things, that’s what he remembered. You never told him outright; maybe it came up once in a passing conversation, weeks ago, buried under a million other details about work or life or whatever. And yet, here he was, dropping the exact date like it was nothing. You tried to play it cool, but inside, your brain was short-circuiting. Rafe Cameron knows my birthday. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, that smirk still glued to his face. He was being way too natural about the whole thing.

“Okay,” You snapped out of it, “You’re not buying me tickets, Rafe,” you warned him, crossing your arms and shaking your head. “Seriously, I can’t let you do that.”

He barely glanced at you, too busy making a smooth turn, “You act like I just offered to buy you a house. It’s a couple of tickets, not that big of a deal.”

“To you!” You huffed, leaning back in the seat. “It’s a big deal to me. I’m not just gonna let you drop money like that. For what? For a concert that you’re not even going to?”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, which only fueled your frustration. He thought this was funny.

“It’s just tickets,” he repeated, like that was going to wear you down. “Look, if it bothers you that much, you can pay me back. And I can go with you”

You felt your heart do this weird little somersault, like it didn’t know whether to panic or be excited.

What the hell was he talking about.

Rafe Cameron, Mr. Country Club, wanted to go to a metalcore concert with you?

Your head was spinning. He doesn't even know the band, you thought, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you. But judging by the way he was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he wasn’t joking.

“You’re gonna come with me to a Bad Omens concert?” Your voice came out more skeptical than you intended, but could he blame you. The thought of Rafe at a concert full of screaming fans and heavy breakdowns was honestly hilarious.

He shrugged, eyes still on the road, totally unfazed. “Yeah, why not? Could be fun.”

Fun? FUN? You were genuinely struggling to picture him, in his usual attire, khaki shorts and a Ralph Lauren polo, at a venue packed with sweaty metalheads. You almost wanted to laugh, but then again, he was doing this for you. He was willing to put up with a night of music he definitely didn’t like, just so you could see one of your favorite bands. That meant something.

You scoffed. “How would I pay you back anyway? With what? My tips from bartending at the country club? Gonna take me six months to pay off Bad Omens tickets.”

He glanced over, eyebrow raised, like he was sizing you up. “You’re seriously gonna pass up the chance to see one of your favorite bands because you’re too proud to let me help?”

You bit your lip, torn between how much you wanted to see them live and how uncomfortable it felt to accept help from someone like Rafe. He was used to throwing money around—his daddy’s money, no less—and you... well, you weren’t like that. You’d grown up on the other side of the island, working your ass off to afford anything. 

The idea of someone just buying something for you? It made you feel weird. Like a sell-out.

“It’s not about a couple bucks. It’s about you doing this because you feel like you have to or something.”

His jaw tightened just slightly, and he shook his head like you were missing the point completely. “I don’t feel like I have to do anything. I want to do this. There’s a difference.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not letting him off the hook just yet. “Why? Why do you want to do this so bad?”

There it was. That look again. He hesitated, like he was deciding whether to be fully honest or not, then leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again, trying to play it cool.

“Because,” he started, his voice casual but his eyes were giving him away. “This is what friends do. They look out for each other. I’m not letting you miss something you clearly want.”

Saying the word made his chest hurt just a little. Friends. Right. But he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t exactly the relationship type, and everyone knew it. You probably knew it, but when it came to you things were different. And maybe the idea of spending time with you at that concert—just the two of you, no work, no distractions—sounded like a dream. How could he say that without looking like an idiot? Or worse, like a an asshole trying to buy his way into your life.

“Rafe, be serious,” you sighed. “I don’t like feeling like I owe someone.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he said quickly, a little sharper this time. He seemed almost offended. “Why do you keep acting like this is some big favor? I’m not holding it over your head or anythin’. I just want you to go to the concert and have a good time. Is that so hard to accept?”

You did want to go. Badly. But accepting help like this wasn’t your style, especially not from Rafe, who lived in a completely different world. And yet you could feel how much he genuinely wanted you to say yes.

 “I’m being realistic.”

Rafe snorted. “Realistic? You’re being stubborn as hell.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are,” he cut you off, pulling into a stop at the light and turning his whole body toward you. His eyes were locked on yours now, serious but still with that hint of playful annoyance. “Look, I get it. Fine. You want to go to the concert. I’m offering to make it happen. End of story.”

He was used to getting what he wanted, and, right now, what he wanted was for you to take these tickets.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

He hesitated for half a second. Then that smirk of his came back, though it felt different. “Because I like seeing you excited about something. You’ve been dragging your feet every time I see you, and now, you hear some band’s coming to town, and you light up like it’s Christmas. You think I’m gonna let you miss that over a couple bucks?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. He was always so sincere. And it threw you off completely. Rafe was a lot of things to a lot of people—cocky, reckless, arrogant—but he wasn’t usually thoughtful. Not to them. Not like this. You seemed to be the only one who saw the good in him.

But you still weren’t giving in. “Rafe... it’s just weird, okay? I don’t want it to be like you’re doing me a favor.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Fine. Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like— I’m investing in something I wanna see. You freaking out at this concert, screaming your head off, losing your voice for two days—that’s entertainment.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re difficult,” he shot back, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’m not backing down, so you might as well just say thank you and take the tickets.”

“Or what?” you challenged, but your voice was softening.

“Or I’ll buy the tickets, show up at your door, and force you to go.”

You blinked. “You wouldn’t.”

He grinned. “Try me. C’mon,” he pushed, sensing you were caving. “You work your ass off at that club, always taking care of everyone else. For once, just let someone take care of you.”

Your breath hitched at that. He wasn’t just being cocky or trying to win an argument anymore. He meant it. You looked out the window, chewing on your lip. This was new, this was all so new to you it felt a little pathetic with how hard your heart was racing. There was a moment of silence, like you were both just waiting for the other to blink first.

Finally, you sighed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine! Fine. Buy the stupid tickets. But don’t think I’m not paying you back. I’ll find a way.”

He just laughed, clearly satisfied with his victory. “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Rafe. You’re the best friend ever.’”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help smiling a little. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cameron.”

As the light turned green and he started driving again, you let out a long breath, not knowing why you were giving up so easily. There was this strange warmth in your chest, knowing he cared enough to go toe-to-toe with you over something as small as a concert.

“Hey, for the record,” Rafe said after a moment, glancing over at you. “I’d do it again. Just so you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? Fight me over tickets?”

He grinned, looking back at the road. “Nah. Fight you over anything, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but you were beaming like an idiot now. You felt lighter. “Just don’t think this means I’m letting you pick the music on the way there.”

“Deal,” he said, laughing as he leaned back in his seat, clearly proud of himself. “But don’t get too used to it. Next time, it’s back to rap and yachts.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

As he drove, you couldn’t help but peek over at him, catching the way his jawline tensed and relaxed, the way his fingers tapped the steering wheel like he was still buzzing from the conversation.

And yeah, maybe you’d heard the rumors surrounding him, believed them a little before.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

All the while Rafe felt like he’d just won the lottery. You had no idea how hard he was falling for you, piece by piece. Every small detail about you made him fall harder, and it scared the hell out of him how much he cared. But he couldn’t stop now.

Truth was, he didn’t want to.

[gailsfrog]

Random puzzevisoion rant on todays episode (idk titles lol)

BRUhhHh todays episode was bonkerss- Right off the back we got mr puzzles beeing all goofy then >:C Mario lol the poor guy just needs a freind- anyway mr puzzles with brain rot- and the kids are just crazy- there possesed acting af-

ISTG THIS SCENE MADE NE DIEE HAHAAHA- New smg4 thing. all of the best villans ride goofy ahh cars HAHA-

Bruh Puzzles is real for that tho- just at the thought of the brainrot crap and ppl saying all that STUFF in school my brain cells man- id be mad too puzzles-

MR PUZZLES LOOSING IT- and calling a kid a fat F@#k also mr puzzles new face is giveing me Smiler vibes-

LIKE BRUh- same smile- and creepyness- i was fr so suprised to see that puzzles got a new >:C face.

Then Mr. Puzzles crying/manicaly crazy laugh cry (?) at the end just was so sad- as a big fan of this dam TV its sad to see him like this :/ BUT THE SONG IN THE BACKGROUND IS SOO GOOD- im a huge fan of the oldschool songs or just ones with creepy vibes lol (usualy putting the dimond city radio on from fallout 4 on for older music lol) i typed the lyrics to it in youtube a few times alot of them were weird modern ones :/ but this is the closest one i found lol https://youtu.be/BXR1tZhEcHE :0 idk if it will work for yall if not the video is called Chick Bullock - Hummin' To Myself and it now lives rent free in my music playlist :0

Also MICKY MOUSE!?!?!!??! ither yalls jellous of puzzles fans, hes gonna be like Mr. Yeest from IGBP since smg4 and puzzles are similar like that- SOMETHING CRAZYS GONA HAPPEN- its like a huge ass plot twist like BRUH IS THAT MICKY MOUSE?!?!? LMAO- were ither gonna get an episode next sat abt mr puzzles haveing another reason/going after the SMG4 crew/Leggy and Mario or a wendsday vid thats like Oh BTW ima kill yall in 72 hours theres a carnaval in town or smthn crazy with Micky and Mr pUzlles lmao or were not gong to get WOTFI untuil begining of October :/ because they gotta have time to let people dicide chalanges and enough time to get a ton of them and a large variety/push out the lore/arc episodes for the chalanges

AnYwAyyyyy bak to watching puzzlevision- i might draw puzzles or some other comic idk yet- :)

[vocaloid-song-of-the-day]

End-World Normopathy by GHOST feat. SOLARIA and Kevin

[softgrungeprophet]

my kaine playlist is 2 and a half hours long...

okay well actually it's more like—

there's my primary Kaine playlist which is 2 and a half hours long and kind of doubles as a partial Janine playlist (still mostly Kaine but there's bound to be some overlap, all things considered):

and maybe it has some questionable song choices

—

There's my Spider-Man (well, really it's just Peter) playlist which is also 2 and a half hours long and has perhaps what some might call "too much" Blink-182 and pop punk on it:

—

There's a mixtape from Annabelle to Kaine which probably isn't done yet but is 40 minutes long:

—

There's a response from Kaine that he makes after leaving which is 44 minutes long and also probably technically not done yet:

—

There's also a playlist for the "worst year of peter's life" fic-in-progress which is 55 minutes long, probably complete, and which is sort of about Kaine but is also about Peter and in general about the entire situation that they've all been subjected to (including like, Flash's interactions with not-Peter (Ben)) and also a little bit about the past:

—

I don't have a playlist for Ben lol

[altfire]

the darkwater writing lineup goes crazy idk

[your-local-uwu-artist]

decided to start making spotify versions of my youtube music playlists for funsies: + draw covers for them all! starting with charlotte!!!

[guillemelgat]

I thought this song, a collaboration between Basque band Bulego and Spanish musician Ede, was really pretty, and the words are also very poetic. They switch between Spanish and Basque in very interesting ways, but the whole thing comes together quite well. If you speak Spanish and/or Basque you can watch the process they went through to make the song here, and give a better explanation than I could of what it's about, but roughly it speaks to the fact that even past experiences that we regret make up an important part of who we are now, so as much as we might want to get rid of them we can't.

Si lo hubiera sabido antes If I had known before que todo este ruido escondía mi nombre That all this noise was hiding my name

Isiltasun honen atzean gorde dira Behind all this silence are being kept nire izenaren oihartzun guztiak All the echoes of my name

Quizás escondiendo las manos Maybe hiding my hands quizás rebajando la voz Maybe lowering my voice quizás resistiendo el impulso Maybe resisting the impulse o quizás incluso si no Or maybe even if not podría apagar esta culpa I could turn off this guilt pero sin todo este dolor But without all this pain

[ ERREPIKA / ESTRIBILLO: Ez nintzen ni izango I wouldn’t be me Esa no sería yo That wouldn’t be me Dudan hutsune honek bete ez banindu. If the hollowness that I have didn’t fill me Esa no sería yo That wouldn’t be me ez nintzen ni izango I wouldn’t be me hoy la culpa deja hueco a la luz Today guilt leaves a space for the light ]

Lorez apaindu ditut I’ve embellished with flowers isiltasun honen erpin guztiak All the spikes of this silence En este pecho tan lleno In this full bosom ya no cabe el silencio que me pides guardar There’s no room left for the silence that you asked me to keep

Agian ausartu banintz Maybe if I had dared to agian egin banu Maybe if I had done it agian ahots horrekin Maybe with that voice ezingo nuen lortu I wouldn’t have been able to erru hau itzali eta Turn off this guilt and min hau berriz ez sentitu Not feel this pain again

[ERREPIKA / ESTRIBILLO ]

[robin-with-a-pen]

UUUUUGH I can't think! anyways- I saw this and HAD to write it- I've reached a stand still tho ):

current writing (unedited, sorry) under the cut:

In truth, I am very sick. 

I am not angry, not upset at all. I have lived a long and fulfilling life. Beside me is my son and my beautiful wife. I am the king of the land, my son will soon take my place on the throne and I can’t be happier.

He’s a stunning young man, a responsible and upstanding gentleman. He will be a kind and just ruler, I know it. I have faith in my son. He will take care of my wife, he will take care of his wife, he will take care of our kingdom. I am proud of him, I am proud of how me and my wife have raised him.

I admit that I can be prideful, and for this reason, I don’t want to admit that I am in pain, but I am. No amount of denial will cure me. I am nearing my end.  Everyday, every action, every breath I take is met with excruciating pain. I no longer have the energy to sit up, I have been rendered a pitiful old man relying on my family to do even the simplest of tasks. 

My son, my perfect boy, has not uttered a single complaint. He is taking care of my wife as she too gets older, he is taking care of me as my health worsens, he is taking care of the castle and its workers, the kingdom and its people, he will be a perfect ruler. He’s already doing the work, all he needs is the title.

When I was much younger, a prophet arrived at my door shortly after I was crowned king. With shaky hands and fear in his eyes he warned me that one day, my eldest son would be the man to take my life. 

“The gods have spoken, they warn me of the misfortune that will befall you. My dear king, your eldest son will be the man to end your life and take your throne.” 

I was terrified. The thought scared me, my son? Betray me? Betray his family, his blood, his kingdom? I had just begun to court my wife, we would soon be wed. The prophecy plagued my mind. My mind became filled with anxieties and doubt.

Would it be greed? Wealth and power? Would I raise a son so selfish he would kill his own father for power? Would I deserve it?  Would I become a terrible father? Would my throne corrupt me? Would My son grow to fear and resent me? Would he kill me out of spite? Would I push him to do it? 

The image of my son, a man who had yet to even be born yet, standing over my corpse with a blade in hand. Blood staining his clothes and a wicked look in his eyes. It haunted me. I began to question everything. As ashamed as I am to admit it, but I even doubted my dear wife. My beautiful bride. What if she was the cause? She could corrupt our child, convince the poor prince to take my life. 

The prophet’s words played on repeat. My son would kill me and take my throne. I had plotted a thousand murders in the name of a man who didn’t exist yet. By the time my wife was pregnant I had even planned to kill the child. 

I had decided that if this child were to be male, I would drown him in the river. I didn’t want to torture my son, I did not want to harm him at all, but I feared what he would become. I feared him. And for nine long months I was plagued with endless anxiety. I feared my wife for the monster she might birth, I feared myself for the sins I might commit. 

Now, I am ashamed of my thoughts, and my actions. Oh, if these fears had stayed in my head I would be a much happier man now, but they did not. The way I treated my dearest, my perfect and beautiful wife was horrid. She dealt with her pregnancy alone, I was much too busy plotting my own murder. Then, when she went into labor I did not think to help her. I did not hold her hand as she birthed our first and only child, I offered her no comfort. 

I stood by the doctor. Watching and waiting. I feel as though my heart had stopped when I saw my son for the first time. My soul had left my body, along with it went any thoughts, considerations, or plans to kill the angel in my wife’s arms. 

He was beautiful. No words could describe the mixture of shame and pride I felt. He looked at me with bright eyes and I couldn’t fathom this boy hurting a soul. Right then, as my wife slept, as I held the boy in my arms, as I rocked him to sleep I vowed to be the father this boy deserved. He might be my killer but he was yet to be tainted. 

Briefly, I even doubted the Gods. I questioned them openly and without fear. How could this precious child be my doom? I wouldn’t allow it.

-------

Thanks for reading!

[raedas]

pretty please i would love iranian music recs 🤲

ghalbam roo tekrare - morteza pashaei

asheghi ba to, loknat, ahay to, bia ashegham kon - benyamin

khanom gol, sabad sabad - ebi

aftab - black cats

baroonaye nam nam, delaaram - puzzle band

pa be paye to, daryaabam - mohsen yeganeh

ageh yeh rooz - faramarz aslani

mah o mahi - hojat ashrafzadeh

khodayeh asemoonha - andy & kouros

jooni joonom - leila forouhar

man amadeh-am, makhlough, gharibe ashena - googoosh

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

So I guess it’s time for me to advertise to the entire neighborhood how insufferably neurodivergent I am by blaring a very specific playlist on a portable speaker while I ride my bike around the neighborhood, wearing very specific clothes — holding my hands, face, and posture in a very specific way — and pray to Satan (not really… I’m agnostic just like someone else, unironically) they understand what I’m trying to tell them with the music, and make the connection between the name I’m alluding to and exactly what that name means, and put two and two together that the name will happen to them if they take any pamphlets from my father seriously and decide to convert to the path of “everlasting life on a paradise earth” ahahAhAHAHAHA I AM MAD SCIENTIST! (sunuvabitch)

[nomaishuttle]

i think its fucking rly stupid that theyre spoonfeeding us the 2023 cast recording like. 1 song at a time its so dumbb LOL

[anachronistic-falsehood]

driving into the city tomorrow and i ammmm terrified </3 i am always always so paranoid about driving i wish i had sides like sanders sides so i could throw a weighted blanket over my anxiety and make him have a nap and stop making me lose my marbles

[icannotgetoverbirds]

it's called cowpunk

BUT THERE'S NO FUCKIN'. PLAYLISTS ON YT THAT ARE SONG COMPILATIONS

IT'S ALL PLAYLISTS PUT TOGETHER USING THE FUCKIN' PLAYLIST FUNCTION AND MY BRAIN WON'T LET ME TRY THOSE OUT FOR SOME ARBITRARY REASON

please for the love of god i want to listen to punk country music. i've secretly always loved the way that country music sounds but the lyrics are just so terrible so often that i've stayed away from it for the sake of my sanity

but punk as a genre has never failed me so COWPUNK, which is the punk subgenre in country music, should be fucking amazing. but there's like 5 playlists and brain is too scaredys to look at them. screaming crying throwing up taking my brain out and picking it apart with tweezers until i can figure out why those aren't good enough so i can problem solve

[cesium-sheep]

at least my meltdown playlist still works.

[quirkidol]

((Don’t have time to write much rn but here’s the song for this week’s episode. Right after all the destruction of the city.))

[morimess]

i keep seeing songs on TT that remind me of Linebeck...and I don't...really know how to feel about it.