#into your room

[cosmicdreamgrl]

now THIS is what we call a proper collaboration, features should always enhance a song and oh boy, we love muna for not just being on this vocally (katie and holly sound magical together btw) but the layers in the new production? as if i couldn't love this song any more than i already did, oh my gosh, will be having this on repeat for sure

[annasvinyl]

favs collide!! ✨️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🪩

[consumeronionbulletin]

A Time Called You (2023)

Like an extra long cassette tape from a 90s k-pop icon, this show is chock full of references I will never understand. I liked it though...

At first glance, the show seems to be about brain-bending time travel shenanigans. But it's really about nostalgia, and the story we tell ourselves about ourselves. Especially when that story turns sad and dark. It's also about the lies depression tells the person who is suffering from it.

And there's a murder mystery, which I'm not fond of, but whatever.

What Worked

Show is great at evoking nostalgia. I wasn't a teenager in Korea in the late 90s, but somehow the show made me feel like I was there. It works in the same way that a movie shot in New York makes you miss autumn in NYC, even if you've never been there. When the lights are on and the camera starts rolling, for a little while you get a chance to see the world the way the photographer sees it, and it's magical.

But the closer the show got to the present, the less magical the world seemed. Some of that was intentional, for sure. This was very effective, especially when combined with the score and the cast, but it left me feeling a little hollow at the end of the series.

What Didn't Work

I just don't like murder mysteries in the middle of my romance shows. Even if the romance is more about the romance of the past than about the relationships inside the show. In fact, that's one of the reason why the love "triangle" didn't annoy me as much, show was more about the writer using the characters to show / talk through some things than about the characters or their relationships.

Also, the ending was very rough. It wasn't exactly tacked on, as you could see the direction they were taking the sad girl main character, but still not super cheerful. I liked the message that came out of that ending though.

The Performances

Everyone was pretty good. But the show was definitely more about the writing and the direction (and the sound/music) than about any one performer. I liked the cast, but didn't really love any of them.

TL; DR:

Show was good. It went a little dark in places, but it also had some hidden depths. I'm very interested in seeing the Taiwan drama this was based on. But if you can't / don't wanna watch that, this version is still good.

[groovesnjams]

9 / 50

"Into Your Room" by Holly Humberstone

DV:

In an overall excellent year for varying flavors of love songs, no one captured how simultaneously stupid and exquisite falling for someone feels better than Holly Humberstone. Especially when you're young, though you don't need to look further than the critical reception of early-period Carly Rae Jepsen to realize how often people underestimate their ability to feel intensely and act ridiculously long after they're past their teens. Humberstone had the year's funniest couplet in "You said you'd give me both your kidneys if I cried for help/ Like jesus christ calm down", which isn't from this song, and she had a close runner up with "You're the center of this universe/ My sorry ass revolves around you," which is. The thing about the latter is it's the emotional core of the chorus rather than a throwaway punchline in the verse, a wildly ambitious songwriting gambit. And it works! That single line, bathetic and delivered with complete sincerity, anchors the melodrama of not just "without you my soul is eternally doomed" but the opening "I will run after your moving car." It's cosmic and dumb, just like love should be.

MG:

This song certainly is highly dramatic, which makes for a strong contrast with its satellite radio in store play production. I suppose that sounds backhanded, it is – only because I have no better way to put it, but it truly does underscore the song’s purpose. “Into Your Room” is like framing an exquisite Rembrandt in one of those cheap acrylic poster frames you can buy for 20% off with an expired Bed, Bath & Beyond coupon. It’s like a fear of clowns. These words weren’t made for such builder grade dullness and to see them showcased that way makes them even more desperate and archly ironic. And, I think, due to that perverse juxtaposition, “Into Your Room” is highly quotable. If you’re whatever on the lines DV highlighted, perhaps I can interest you in “Don't make me stand outside in the pouring rain/ With a freshly ripped human heart from my rib cage/ And a boombox, how pathetic, babe.” Like which one is she holding above her head? Is Diane Court even at her window? If you are bored by “Into Your Room,” you simply aren’t listening closely enough.

[problemnyatic]

It's too late, I've already depicted you as the ugly pathetic "soy"jack (the soy is because soy has estrogen in it, this is bad because it makes you less masculine and more like the inferior female sex, because men should only be manly otherwise they're "failed" and thus lesser and deserving of ridicule) And me as the White Handsome Blue-Eyed Blond Man With Impressive Facial Hair Who's Memetic Association Is With Being Objectively Correct (This makes sense because he is the ideal Aryan specimen, all of these features obviously make him objectively superior to other people). This means I win and definitely look good here, you should really just pack it up. I'm a leftist btw

[marypsue]

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

[cozylittleartblog]

cant tell you how bad it feels to constantly tell other artists to come to tumblr, because its the last good website that isn't fucked up by spoonfeeding algorithms and AI bullshit and isn't based around meaningless likes

just to watch that all fall apart in the last year or so and especially the last two weeks

there's nowhere good to go anymore for artists.

edit - a lot of people are saying the tags are important so actually, you'll look at my tags.

#please dont delete your accounts because of the AI crap. your art deserves more than being lost like that #if you have a good PC please glaze or nightshade it. if you dont or it doesnt work with your style (like mine) please start watermarking #use a plain-ish font. make it your username. if people can't google what your watermark says and find ur account its not a good watermark #it needs to be central in the image - NOT on the canvas edges - and put it in multiple places if you are compelled #please dont stop posting your art because of this shit. we just have to hope regulations will come slamming down on these shitheads#in the next year or two and you want to have accounts to come back to. the world Needs real art #if we all leave that just makes more room for these scam artists to fill in with their soulless recycled garbage #improvise adapt overcome. it sucks but it is what it is for the moment. safeguard yourself as best you can without making #years of art from thousands of artists lost media. the digital world and art is too temporary to hastily click a Delete button out of spite

[flowing-between-space]

you, me, and the sound of my fingers in your pussy on a lazy sunday afternoon

[poprocklyrics]

I'm throwing stones at your window to get you to notice me Don't make me stand outside in the pouring rain with a freshly ripped human hеart from my rib cage and a boom-box How pathetic, babe

Into Your Room, Holly Humberstone

[ohposhers]

SHES THEIR #1 FAN DUDE ARE YOU KIDDING ME !!! shadow's literal wingman fr fr fr

[redsray]

I love the hc that Tim never really stopped taking pictures of heroes and vigilantes even after he became Robin. Not even out of hero worship or anything-- he just found it fun. In fact, being Robin just made this hobby easier to do. He has them separated in folders and definitely has blackmail photos included.

The first time Tim met the Justice League one of his first reactions was to sneakily take at least one picture of each of them. Clark vaguely heard a camera shutter but he could never find any cameras or camera owners.

Sometimes Bruce comes to him and asks for specific pictures of members of the JL doing things they shouldn't be doing i.e Barry ditching a meeting cause he was eating Chipotle in the Watchtower kitchen. No one knows how Bruce gets the pictures except for the other Batfam members.

Tim is the god of blackmail right behind Babs. You need older blackmail or videos? Go to Babs. But Good quality blackmail photos? Tim is your guy.

He has at least 4 folders full of pictures of Dick specifically. One for his time as Robin, one for Nightwing, one for Discowing and one for just Dick.

He also manages to have pictures he definitely should not have because how did you get into the cave before you were Robin, Tim, but he refuses to elaborate on those. i.e Robin Jason out of costume, cozily reading at the batcomputer ("seriously, Tim, that's creepy"), Dick when he first adopted Haley ("were you there when I rescued her?!"), Damian training with the League of Assassins ("how the hell did you get that"), Duke back during the We Are Robin movement ("I do not remember you pulling out any cameras what the hell")

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[fanaticalthings]

just another night in gotham

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[bli-o]

hey autistic people who get overwhelmed by large groups or noise or conversation or etc etc etc you’re not evil for wanting to leave a family gathering. just so you know.