#jungleland imagine

[a-moth-to-the-light]

The Ultimate Crossover Episode (11)

Giving K-pop Groups (and Soloists!) Bruce Springsteen Songs

Key (SHINee): Jungleland (1975)

"Jungleland" is a perfect match for Key--it's the fun, melodramatic style of retro concept that he did so well with “Bad Love”, but with even more drama. And Key's voice is just so rich & grand, a perfect fit for the theatrical leanings of this Springsteen classic (it really does feel straight out of a musical!)--"Bad Love" was quite the spectacle, but I'm confident he could sell an even more attention-grabbing track like "Jungleland". Now that I’ve thought of it, I can’t imagine anyone else’s voice on that iconic hook: “DOWN in jun… gle… land.”

[kingfishergames]

I know Born to Run / Born in the USA get most of the love, with a Thunder Road or Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out here and there. But allow me to share with you the track that has captured my imagination since I was but a child riding in my father's car.

The man is a poet.

Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run

[boneless-mika]

Listening to the songs for the first leg of the fuck you up music bracket (this post is absurdly long)

The Wrong Child (R.E.M)

I'm not sure how I feel about this song. It won't go on my playlist because the doubling vocals feel really weird to me but it seems really sad. Maybe an explanation for why it fucks you up will change my mind about it.

Some Kind of Hero (Leslie Fish)

This song was really hard to find so I don't even know if I listened to the right song. I like songs that are just stories set to music but this one is a little long to me. It's like closer to story than song if that makes sense. Like the story is great and the music is enjoyable but I wouldn't want to listen to this as part of a playlist with "regular" songs. I really like the singer's voice so I'll definitely listen to more music by Leslie Fish. I was writing this while listening and omg that ending, I really get why it's in this tournament, it did make me cry.

Glassy Sky (Tokyo Goul)

Not a huge fan of this one. I just don't really like ballads and this feels like a ballad.

Bet On Losing Dogs (Mitski)

I don't love this one either.

world.execute(me); (Mili)

Enjoying this one. Still won't put it on my playlist because it's not exactly my thing. I have to admit I don't completely understand this one so I'm curious what people have to say about it when the tournament starts.

I Know Where I've Been (Hairspray)

I'm a huge fan of musicals so obviously I've listened to Hairspray but I admit I did not remember this song. It's far too ballad-like for me.

Kiss Me, Son of God (They Might Be Giants)

First contender for going into my likes on Spotify. I do see how it could fuck you up (bc the whole scenario is fucked up) but it didn't fuck me up at all, I just enjoyed it.

If I Killed Someone For You (Alec Benjamin)

I kept wanting a lyric to recontextualize the whole song and imagine my surprise when there actually was one. Yeah, this one is going in the liked songs. It did fuck me up somewhat but I didn't cry (this is my metric of fucking me up because fucking Cowboy Lullaby has made me fully sob before, it has nothing to do with sadness just emotion in general)

Bathtub Mermaid (Mili)

Another song by Mili, interesting. Too much like a ballad for me and the like pitch of the song makes it really hard for me to listen to.

After All (Dar Williams)

Not really to my personal tastes but I can clearly see why it's in this tournament. If I liked slow songs this one would probably be in my likes.

Ruin (The Amazing Devil)

Too ballad-y for me lol. I claim to like songs that fuck you up but I really don't like ballads, it's a complicated relationship.

Seven Nation Army (The White Stripes)

Oh I like that bass. I think I've heard this before, it might be popular with classic car fans. I absolutely would put this on a partying or cruising playlist with this fucking bass.

Light (Next to Normal)

You remember how I said I love musicals? Yeah, not this one. This is my least favorite musical ever. I mean it does have good songs but this one isn't to my tastes at all.

Dr Sunshine Is Dead (Will Wood & The Tapeworms)

So far this sounds upbeat which is how I like my fucked up songs. The vocals sort of blend in with the instrumentals to me. Overall this one is really enjoyable to me, makes me want to dance.

Tongues And Teeth (The Crane Wives)

I really like this one. It's getting liked for sure.

Tiao Tiao (Huang Shi Fu)

It sounds nice but still too ballad-like for me. One thing about me is I'm super picky with music as I'm sure you've noticed by now.

Step On Me (The Cardigains)

Not really for me either.

Jungleland (Bruce Springsteen)

Nine minutes??? I like Bruce Springsteen but I'm having a lot of trouble understanding him in this song.

Can't Reach (Houseki no Kuni)

Listened to too much music, have no real opinion on this because I don't really enjoy instrumental music.

When The World's At Stake (The Trail to Oregan)

Of course I have heard this one but the problem is I've heard it so many times it doesn't fuck me up at all anymore. I prefer the reprise to be honest

[writer59january13]

The boss aka Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band

Bruce Frederick Joseph Springsteen

born at Monmouth Medical Center

in Long Branch, New Jersey,

on September 23, 1949.

His nationalities include hodgepodge

of Dutch, Irish, and Italian descent.

He grew up Catholic in Freehold, New Jersey.

I dedicate the following poem

to aforementioned musician, whose figurative guitar finger kept on the throbbing pulse resoundingly reverberating

across American heartland.

this cautious man (bobby jean) born in the u.s.a.

grownin’ up in the badlands of atlantic city

bonded with blood brothers

felt born to run along backstreets

in brilliant disguise that did cover me

frequently blinded by the light

of the full moon

casting silhouettes against darkness

on the edge of town

which lunar shafts pierced candy’s room,

while immersed in book of dreams

describing better days on a Cadillac ranch

where devils & dust - visible dancing in the dark

celebrating like calendar showered 4th of july

or other glory days in darlington county

even though I ain’t got you.

livin’ in the future

mine hungry heart hankered

and felt like I’m on fire

for you, this fire in me craved human touch

desire - roaring into the ole factory fire

because I wanna marry you

because the night populated

with girls in their summer clothes

each dazzling like 57 channels (and nothin’ on)

in imagination of my american skin

descended from when adam raised a cain

before last to die forecasting kingdom of days

now dwelling in celestial mansion on the hill.

now rightfully claim status of I’m a rocker/ local hero and I’m goin’ down

meeting across the river

if I should fall behind

on the downbound train as living proof

within light of day magic jungleland

policed by highway patrolman i.e. johnny 99

alias johnny bye bye – held up without a gun

defending this lucky town

established on Matamoras banks

from an incident on 57th street

thus celebrated

as local hero every independence day

when, with murder incorporated

firing point blank out in the street

that staccato new york city serenade

from no surrender outlaw pete

originally from nebraska.

it’s hard to be a saint in the city open all night

within my hometown

once my father’s house, now my city of ruins

where tis moot to ask

does this bus stop at 82nd street?

one step up

into the pink Cadillac

hops the ramrod queen of the supermarket

teasing audio dials sans radio nowhere

a red headed woman

racing in the street toward secret garden

to save my love –

with thee angel rosalita (come out tonight)

offering reason

to believe roll of the dice real world

and to prove it all night

from spare parts – shards of roulette wheel

housing souls of the departed

please save my love and stolen car

for sherry darling – that spirit in the night

she’s the one among souls of the departed

no longer stopped by state trooper

precinct based along streets of philadelphia

some crackling like streets of fire

straight time mandate

for those armed to the teeth

along tenth avenue freeze-out.

requiem per terry’s song – what love can do

accompanied by e street shuffle

performed in somber tones

rumbling down thunder road

for souls of used cars

two hearts crushed

along this hard land

for: the ghost of tom joad

the last carnival homage

to wild billy’s circus story

the price you pay when you’re alone

working on a dream

now wreck on the highway.

we take care of our own from youngstown

when heading of to the promised land

the rising distant mystical eden

where you can look,

(but you’d better not touch)

espying the river of salvation

joining eternally the ties that bind

a tunnel of love

or like the wrestler

pinning opponent tougher than the rest

like laborers working on the highway

chiseled like this hard land!

[hotdamnhunnam]

Dream Baby Dream

A/N: So Charlie’s latest movie, Jungleland, is an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE!! It’s so fucking lovely 🥺😭🥰  Whether you’ve seen it or not, I hope you’ll enjoy this little one shot, based on the below request that I got! It’s all kinds of angsty and smutty and fluffy. (Title is a reference to the Springsteen song played at the end of the movie!) **This fic is SPOILER-FREE**

Pairing: Stanley Kaminski x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, reader gets pregnant, gifs of Charlie in his underpants 😋 Request: This lovely request + follow-up for pregnancy/smut with Charlie’s character from Jungleland!

Word Count: ~3.1k

Important Note: The first line of this fic is a line Stanley says in the movie (scene shown in the gif above and in this gifset) – yes, loves, an actual quote. So if you’ve not yet seen this film but are a fan of Charlie Hunnam, I promise you this scene is reason enough, to watch if only just to hear those words from him... 🤤

***************

“I like the way they make my dick look.”

... Is he serious? Yes, definitely is. One drink was all it took, for you to know. He walks and talks like someone straight out of an old forgotten book or an obscure off-Broadway show. As if his whole life is imagined, yet for him the fiction feels so fucking real that it’s the only thing he’ll ever understand.

“I like the way they make my dick look”? What the fuck? You’d just paid him a half-joking compliment on his ridiculous sweatpants. But this is a man who takes jokes for the truths they expose. Mama always told you to avoid men like this—cons and crooks—men who crush their own hearts in their fists, steal their strength from the shadows, to run from their weakness. She knows best, and knows that you can’t. Knows that you turn to dust in their hands. But she’s not here to witness.

No, nobody is.

You take another shot, tossing away what little self-restraint you’ve got. “Dare you to tell me just how many times you’ve used that line.”

The fucker flashes you a smile. Cheeky smirk, the only kind that suits his style. Cheap as dirt. Just like his stupid ugly shirt. “Hey, if I had a dime...”

Rolling your eyes, you suck the sour from a slice of lime. Can’t seem to chase away your thirst. “How many times did that shit work?”

“Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first...” he whispers, leaning close to take the lime in his own fingers, squeezing it without reason till every little pulp ruptures and bursts. “Wanna fuck you so hard it hurts.”

***************

Is it the best sex that you’ve had? Hell fucking no—not even close. It’s pretty bad. Probably the worst.

It’s almost gross. Feels like you’re stuck in a low-budget porno. Just a mess of theatrical thrusts. Heated groans, grating deep in his throat. Grabby hands. Somehow you know that he could fuck you so much better, though, if only he stopped trying to put on some kind of show. You doubt he even knows he can.

“Ugh, just—” you grit your teeth against each thrust. “What are you even doing, Stan...”

He groans out loud again. “Screwing you like a fucking man.”

That tasteless statement almost makes you want to laugh, but you bite back the urge. “No, that’s not how it works,” you mutter as his hips spastically jerk, massive dick splitting you in half. “You can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, ravaging your ass with a rough series of slaps. Pulling your hair, making you arch your back, wrapping one hand around your neck until you choke. The sex is so damn close to being epic if this man would just stop acting like a joke. Like, really close, which honestly doesn’t seem fair. “You’re not supposed to talk when you’re taking my cock. Supposed to be too drunk to care.”

Oh God—he’s even dumber than you thought. He should’ve counted that you’d only had a couple shots. “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“As fucking if,” he huffs, taking the hint that you’ve had quite enough. Reluctantly rolls off. Finally stops fucking you over. And that’s when you realize you miss it, although it feels strange to admit. He turns aside, tucking himself in tight under the covers like some kind of scorned lover. Spurned and burned so many times it makes him sick. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sober, a girl like you wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot stick.”

That gives you pause and breaks your heart a little bit. How is this man already getting at your heart, damn it? Mama would say he’s creeping in there with his crooked claws and all that shit. You can’t let yourself fall for his theatrics. Is that even what this is? Somehow, you sense the weight of more than just his body on the mattress; your heart feels heavy now, but not nearly as heavy as his.

“A girl like me? Seriously, what does that even mean?” you ask, reaching to run your hand across the faded scars and bruises on his back. Noticing how he flinches as if your soft touch is a savage attack. No doubt he wishes that you hadn’t seen. No wonder somebody so damaged really thought you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot stick. “Stanley, you are honest to God hot. And plus you’ve got an almost-ten-inch dick.”

He reacts with a snort, and a shake of his head. Scooting out of the bed, shrugging into his hideous shirt. All the scars on his back and his heart safely hidden inside it. “Doesn’t matter if it’s big. Apparently I can’t use it for shit.”

Without bothering to put pants back on, he settles on the couch across the room. You move to follow him, unable to resist when he looks so cute sitting there. Raking your fingers through his ruffled golden hair. “That’s not a problem we can’t fix—come back to bed with that big dick. You just have to get out of your head. Just a bit.”

That’s a notion he’s quick to dismiss, though you notice he’s no longer flinching away from your touch—which means something, you’d bet. It must. Nevertheless, Stanley snickers at what you said, struggling to keep his facade firmly set. “Out of my head? Bitch, I live in it.”

You don’t doubt it. Just want him to try stepping out of it. “Just for a minute.”

Lucid blue eyes look up at you now like you’re seeking to push him past some lifelong limit.

“Damn, what’s it like in there...?” you wonder aloud as you comb through his hair. He’s a poem, a portrait of someone who doesn’t believe he’s a man. Soul has never known any true home. Heart has been locked away for so long that he thought it could never be freed. Head full of dreams, broken and bursting at the seams. His silence fucking screams. “What do you really want, Stan? Really need?”

And you can tell he’s scared, to dare believe you really care. “...Nobody ever asked.”

There’s a whole world behind his words. Woefully true. Yet a whole other world now opens up before the two of you, with yours. “Well, then I’m glad to be the first.”

Of course you asked. Of fucking course. You barely even know him now, but can already tell somehow... you want to love this man so hard it hurts. Truly glad that you were the first. Already want to be the last.

***************

Fucking months have gone by in the blink of an eye. And already you love him so much you could die. 

He’s never fucked someone who ever gave a shit about him, so he gets a rush from knowing that you cannot live without him. And the feeling goes both ways, needless to say. He’s always looking at you like his first glimpse of the sacred light of day. And always seems afraid you’ll run away, no matter how wholeheartedly you reassure him that you’re here to stay. That he should never doubt it. 

Still he’s just crippled with this unshakeable fear of fucking up and everything falling to shit, just as it always did. Of losing love now that he’s finally fucking found it. Stanley’s past is a ripple effect of the failures and losses that constantly kept him desperate and dishonest, and it’s fucking haunted. Can’t help but dread the day it’ll rear its monstrous head and make him pay for ever dreaming he could have the kind of life he’s always wanted.

The most that you can do is hold him close and fuck the pain away, and love him more than words can say. His dreams are beautiful, you tell him. They deserve to see the light of day. With you he never has to act like he’s some character straight off the page; he doesn’t have to be afraid to feel. To fear that all the demons in his soul are real, and full of rage, and fierce enough to kill him. ‘Cause now you’re finally here to hold him and to heal him.

All of his dreams once revolved around his intense bond with his brother. For so long, his heart never had room for another. He tells you often about Walter. The fighter. ‘Lion’ as it were. The whole life that they lived for no one but each other, till one day the champion boxer abandoned his gloves to vow love at the altar.

And Stanley is happy, that Lion has found a new family. A new life as boundless and bright as the sky. Such love as an overbearing older brother could never provide. Though Stan knows that the door’s always open for him, to be part of that family and part of that life... he won’t take Lion up on the invite. Tells himself that the home that his brother has built is too precious for someone so poisoned to set foot inside.

You fuck the poison and the pain out of his veins a little bit more every night. But you know it’s a big fight; you won’t try to push it or rush it. Just guide him and stay beside him as the shadow slowly turns to light.

So what’s left to dream now? Somehow your lover tells you his deepest secrets and desires without ever breathing a damn word aloud. Like the fire’s so fragile a whisper could blow it right out.

Tells you and shows you through passionate, powerful kisses, devouring you with the heat of his mouth. Through the touch of his tough calloused hands on your skin, softly treasuring every last inch, devoting his whole broken heart to the moment in such breathless silence... then driving inside you with vigor and violence, the lion inside him awoken and roaring out loud. Slow and gentle again, at the end. Once you’re both well and truly fucked out. The soft look on his face and his tender embrace expressing just how grateful he is that you taught him to fuck, and to love, without playing pretend.

Is it the best sex of your life? Hell fucking yes. Without a doubt. Every damn day, every damn night. Far and away the fucking best. The kind of sex starry-eyed poets strive and fail to write about. 

Stanley Kaminski is a living, breathing, tragic, magic little poem. But he is also very real, thanks to the love that you’ve allowed his heart to feel. Beating so beautifully now that it’s finally healed. And he’s become your fucking home.

***************

“Babe, you up?”

You weren’t until he spoke. The sun is only barely just; as he so often does, Stan beat the day before it broke. But you don’t mind being awoken by the man you’ll always love. More so than ever now because... you have some news to share today, bound to blow him the fuck away. In the best way, you hope. And trust.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, shifting in bed, lifting your head to see him seated by the window far across the room. Gaze lingering upon his gorgeous features gilded by the glow of dawn. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing at all, for once, he wordlessly responds. Smiles at you before he glances back outside, watching the sun begin to rise, as if its light promises everything he wants.

“Today’s gonna be good, baby,” he states, blue gaze so wild and bright he looks a little crazy. “I mean, I can see it. I can see our future when I close my eyes.”

It’s almost like he knows what’s coming, in the next moment. Maybe he does? Your souls are intertwined so close you wouldn’t really be surprised. “Well, looks to me like they’re wide open. Why you even gotta close ‘em?” you reply, stretching your arms out with a peaceful sigh. All set to break the news you would’ve shared with him last night, if only he hadn’t come home and fucked you so epically hard that you just went out like a light. “Stanley, I...”

“Shouldn’t have woken you up, actually,” he interrupts, somewhat unnaturally. Crosses the room toward the bed, to hold your head up, kiss you slow and deep. Then turns to leave. “Love you—sorry. Go back to sleep.”

You pause and blink your bleary eyes. “What? Why...?”

“...‘cause it’s a special day and I’m cooking up a surprise.”

Although that’s super cute... you don’t exactly like the thought of Stanley making food, to tell the truth. You almost puked, first time he tried. He has a lot of skills and virtues, but his cooking isn’t one of them, unfortunately. “Babe, I told you there’s no need to make a big deal of our second anniversary...”

“Yeah, but why’s that for you to decide?” he playfully retorts as he heads out the bedroom door. Shouting back at you down the hallway as he hastens away. “Besides, you’re gonna need something to build your strength up after getting fucked so good and hard last night. Stay put and don’t even try sneaking into the kitchen, alright?”

“Fine,” you sigh, figuring that you might as well listen. No harm letting your man do his thing in the kitchen. You just hope that he won’t be offended if you can’t hold down what he’s serving... especially now that your body’s especially prone to hurling, for reasons that he just unwittingly stopped you from sharing with him.

You can picture him trying to cook, looking so adorably domestic as fuck. So damn cute it hurts. Standing there over the counter in his fugly turtleneck shirt, glancing up every few seconds, just to make sure his girl doesn’t walk in on him while he’s busy at work.

Absentmindedly scratching at his lower back with his wandering fingers, as he shuffles over the cracked tile floor in his raggedy slippers. The ones that he stole from some random hotel years ago. Why he chooses to wear a long-sleeved shirt and slippers, when he can’t be bothered to put on a damn pair of knickers, even in the middle of winter... you don’t even know. It’s such a fucking Stanley thing to do, though.

You can picture the low-hanging hem of his shirt getting stuck in the top of his briefs as he scratches his back. While he just carries on with his business, oblivious, focused on whipping up some sad excuse for a breakfast that will most likely make you gag. Your man can’t cook for crap, and you’re certain that he’s well aware of that fact. So what gives? Where’s he going with this...? You wonder as you wait in bed, enamored with the image of him in your head.

GIFs by uuuhshiny

When he finally returns to the bedroom he’s holding a steaming white mug in his hand, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning like a madman, for reasons that you can’t even begin to understand.

“Okay, listen, Y/N—before you say anything...”

You can already smell the unholy concoction he’s got in his cup, and you’re struggling so hard not to throw the fuck up. “Stan, is that what I think—”

“Hear me out,” he begs, squatting down next to the bed. For some reason he looks all at once shy and proud. “I want you to remember our first time together. The morning after.”

You nervously swallow and nod your head. He can’t really expect you to put that ‘breakfast’ in your mouth—doesn’t he know you’ll spit it right out? You just try to focus on the heartwarming words he just said. “Babe, you know I won’t ever forget. But is that...”

“Yes, it is. Kaminski’s specialty hot shit. The mess I used to make for Lion every day for breakfast. The only family that I ever had, until the day we met.”

You pause at that; is it just a coincidence now that he’s talking about you as family? Surely he knows somehow, what you’re about to tell him now. You want to just tell him already, so badly. “Stanley...”

“Just let me say this. Please,” he murmurs, shifting where he’s squatting on the floor, repositioning his knees. “Tonight I was thinking of taking you out to some nice swanky place I can’t even afford... would’ve tipped the waiter off to drop a little something in the fancy French champagne we ordered...”

Your heart stops as it hangs on his words. Why is he suddenly... down on one knee...

“But I thought maybe this would mean a little more,” he continues. “Baby, I cooked this for you, the first morning I ever woke to the most beautiful view... because a part of me already knew. I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I was already fucking yours. I never would’ve made this crap for anyone but family—that shit’s sacred to me. And now I know, deep down, that’s what I always wanted you to be.”

“Stanley...”

“You had to dig through so much shit, inside of me, and stole my fucking heart right out of it. Still can’t believe you did. Still can’t believe you think I’m worth it. Scared I’ll wake up any second just to see that this was all some crazy dream.”

Your heart is bursting at the seams. “Believe it, baby. You’re worth everything to me. I’ll dig through all that shit again, if it means being with you in the end.”

He holds the cup out toward you like the treasure that it is. “That’s what it means. That’s what I’m asking you with this. Dig, baby, dig.”

You love this man so much more than you can believe. So much for him thinking that you would never touch him with a ten-foot stick. 

Your hand dives straight into the mess to find the ring and scream out yes. Stan smiles and wipes the excess stuff off on his sleeve, then slides it carefully onto your finger as you shower him with kisses. Honestly couldn’t be happier right now that someone else is here to witness.

And he needs to know it, right this fucking minute.

After he takes your newly bejeweled hand in his, blessing it with a kiss... you take his hand in yours and press it onto the surprise that you’ve been harboring inside. Your secret little Stanley. “So... you know I had something to tell you as well, right? I’m not the only one who’s so happy about this. Happy to be part of your family.”

His eyes go wide, the brightest light you’ve ever seen. “Y/N...! Y/N, does—does this mean...”

You answer with a smile as big as his, and seal the promise with a kiss. “Dream, baby, dream.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this!! Would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

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[lascapigliata]

as a younger person i was upset supernatural never used a bruce springsteen song once in its entire 15 year life but now i realize that’s a blessing

[altocat]

SEPHIROTH WEEK 2022 DAY 3

Prompt: Cosmos

Summary: Strapped to the table, trapped in the belly of Despair, the boy turns his reddened eyes to the open window. 

Part of him wishes he could sleep.

It would be easier, in retrospect. Easier to dream. To be still. To close his eyes and lie. It would be easier to burrow himself beneath the black waves of thoughtlessness, to pull himself down and drink deep from that ignorant, welcoming fountain.

"Stop squirming, boy."

So, so much easier.

Instead, he shifts his eyes towards the small pane of glass overhead, watching the warm buzz of color dance between the cool, clear surface. A smooth, indigo landscape dotted and flecked with clouds, drifting past the soft silver orb of the full moon. A swirl of black scuttling across the sky dipping into dark pools, quiet and shifting and yet so, so still.

"I said stop squirming. Really now, I should think you'd be quite used to this by now. We need as many samples as we can get."

He feels the tug, singing and searing through his skin, a hot, throbbing slide through his veins. He feels the rhythmic exchange like the caress of old, familiar ghosts. Taking. Taking and taking and taking. More. Buckets. Pounds. Gallons. All they can grab from him, all they can drink.

And gods, he's so tired and so small.

He can count seven summers on his fingers, describe them by their bloodied scent and texture. Seven. Seven years of frailty, of the reality of his weak, trembling body. Seven years of taking, of him and the silence that refuses to fall.

Seven years of Sephiroth. Seven years of the window.

"If you DON'T stop squirming, you'll be punished. Sit up straight. And stop that whining. You're too old to be wriggling and mewling about like an infant. Chin out, eyes forward. You WILL comply, boy."

Sometimes, he thinks, he can see more than just the vague impression of stars behind the glass. In those feeble, achingly vulnerable moments, he feels his hazy mind slipping away, a floating void that spills through the wall, out to meet that great big beautiful world that was never his to hold. To grip and cling to those glorious golden spangles of light and fire, press them to his chest, grip and nestle into them as if to imprint them into his skin.

You're mine. Stay with me.

Stay, yes. They could stay. He could stay with them, in that wondrous, dizzying promised land. A black panacea, glistening and serene. Wrapped tight in those safe, welcoming arms. Just to be quiet. To be wanted. A child of the cosmos. A child.

"Sephiroth."

Taking. Too much taking. A lurch in his stomach, something hot and acidic in his throat. A grimace. A moan. But the tug only remains, fastened into his skin, a creeping, clutching tendril in savage florescent jungleland. Feeding. Feeding on him.

"If you pass out, you're in BIG trouble. I'm warning you. Eyes open. Pull yourself together."

He feels himself melting through the straps, his small body heavy, eyes half-lidded. He can hear the dull mutterings of the scientist somewhere above him, the faintest fragment of tapping contact against his cheeks.

He doesn't care. He's gone. Gone to meet the stars.

Somewhere, through the murky splinter of thought that emerges through the descent, he observes the cool calculations of the sky, no longer separate but tangible, drifting all around him. A burst of illumination, radiant constellations that curl across his fingers and shoulders and toes. Silky patterns in the gloom, tall shapes that lean down to stroke his cheek, gently pulling him closer. A soft, soothing lap.

"Hello, dearest."

What he feels is inexplicable. A jagged knot in his chest, welling, threatening to burst. And as his little fingers root and cling through that velvet swath of stars, he knows he's dreaming. Even as she draws him closer. Even as he lies to himself. Even as he knows it will never be real.

But oh, imagine. Just imagine.

She brings her lips to his forehead, easing him against her warm, tender breast, folding his arms, smoothing back a curl of wavy silver against his forehead. He all but shuts his eyes against her, his sigh emphatic, his lips quivering. Tiny hands against glistening, ethereal skin. Tiny words that swell in his throat. A name. The fleeting, fractured suggestion of a name. Poised. Rising. And quickly dying away again.

This isn't real.

And above them, the tail of the glowing scarlet comet sweeps through the darkness. A burning specter, its path unknown, a herald of galaxies yet to be discovered, new worlds not yet claimed.

"Make a wish, my love," she whispers into his ear, kissing his little hand. "Make a wish."

But until Hojo is able to rouse him, everything Sephiroth could ever want is right here.

[lampshadecr0wn]

Psycho Pass Characters as Music Genres (Season 1 Edition)

*Disclaimer* These are just my opinions/ideas so feel free to add anything you like (:

1. Akane Tsunemori - Electronic/ Alternative Pop

Song Example: Yours by Now, Now

Artist Examples: Now, Now , Caroline Polachek, Saint Sister

Akane definitely embraces the modern culture of Japan during her time, so I could see her listening to music that also embraces it. She would be drawn to strong melodies and pounding bass. 

Secondary Genre: Electropunk

2. Shinya Kougami - Blues / Rock

Song Example: Please Call Me, Baby by Tom Waits

Artist Examples: Tom Waits, Nick Drake, Leonard Cohen

Look, Kougami loves to read and be philosophical, so I can only imagine his taste in music would be somewhat pretentious (lol.) I think that despite his angsty and intense demeanor, he would listen to somewhat understated tunes with poetic lyrics. 

Secondary Genre: Indie Rock

3. Nobuchika Ginoza - Classical

Song Example: 2 Arabesques, L. 66: No. 1 in E Major by Claude Debussy

Artist Examples: Claude Debussy, Joe Hisaishi, Frederic Chopin

Sorry, I had to. Ginoza seems like the type of guy who would lose his mind over some good piano riffs, yaknow? Plus, before the end of season one, I can imagine this type of music to be quite the stress reliever for him. 

Secondary Genre: Jazz

4. Shusei Kagari - R & B

Song Example: Nights by Frank Ocean

Artist Examples: Frank Ocean, Solange, SZA

I really think that Kagari likes to vibe. Unlike his rather upbeat personality, I think he would turn towards the more emotional side of R&B. I could see him with some headphones on, lip-syncing the words to Jarrod by Solange in the office. 

Secondary Genre: Rap

5. Yayoi Kunizuka - Riot Grrrl / Punk

Song Example: I Heard it Through the Grapevine by the Slits

Artist Examples: the Slits, the Raincoats, the Regrettes

We already knew this in canon, but Yayoi loves punk music. I think she would be really into girl punk specifically. This is a funny contrast to her personality, because she’s so calm and collected, while punk music... isn’t.

Secondary Genre: Metal

6. Tomomi Masaoka - Classic Rock

Song Example: Jungleland by Bruce Springsteen

Artist Examples: Bruce Springsteen, ACDC, Led Zeppelin

Masaoka is a dad, hence the dad rock. JK. Masaoka talks about life before Sibyl, which makes me think he’s nostalgic for the way things used to be. Classic Rock, especially Springsteen, is quite reminiscent of the “good old days.”

Secondary Genre: Modern Rock

7. Shion Karanomori - Grunge

Song Example: Celebrity Skin by Hole

Artist Examples: Hole, Pearl Jam, the Smashing Pumpkins

Initially, I really wanted to give Shion pop, because I thought it’d be funny. But realistically, I couldn’t see her bopping to Madonna. So I gave her a sister-genre to Yayoi, grunge. She’s probably the type of person to have her music so loud it shakes the floor.

Secondary Genre: Post-Punk

8. Shogo Makishima - Noise Music

Song Example: Pss Pss by Death Grips

Artist Examples: Death Grips, Boredoms, Black Dice

Makishima is FERAL, so its only fair that his music taste is too. I don’t think he listens to much music, but when he does, its something super experimental and profound.

Secondary Genre: Experimental

[dayfelice]

Forgive me for the mistakes - taken from Google Translator

“We all have special memories of music, not least those who breathe and live in the world of music. Therefore, Popmani's editorial staff has selected artists who can share extra memorable musical memories together with an associated playlist.

I'll tell you about the silliest movie I've ever been in. Like many biographical films, it starts with some kind of social realism and then dramatically throws itself into the Hollywood precipice and flaunts on as a bloody heroic tale about the struggle between good, free life and evil, gray everyday life that stands in the way. In the roles we have me as a wannabe dandelion artist, an accident-prone DJ as the nice side kick, and a former restaurant manager as the flattest film villain of the decade.

I had just moved to Gothenburg after what at the moment looked like a crashed career as a TV star. Since my life is a bad movie, I had imagined that I would work as a bartender while I got back on my feet. The bartending profession can be very fun as long as it feels meaningful; either because you are good at it, or because you have a boss who somehow manages to convince you that your suffering actually does some good more than that people should choose to go to this particular bar even the next time they go out. What I unfortunately did not know was that I was a really bad bartender with an even worse boss. This evening I would have stopped at 9 pm to go on the third date with the film's magical, perfect dream man. A few hours before that, I am told that I will apparently instead take care of a wedding party until a few hours after closing, because the restaurant manager has just promised them. No discussion, no "buts". Just me, a DJ, and about twenty wedding guests.

It's obviously going really, really bad. My service is as usual catastrophic, but since the guests see that I have a superhuman mission, no one directs their frustration at me. The evening's unsuccessful toughness instead becomes a kind of unpleasant grief that spreads across the room, and when it's time for the DJ to play music, the wedding's sunny glitter has cooled to a funeral chill. And it is in this mood that the DJ's equipment breaks down.

Now I think you see where this movie is going. But I, who did not know that I was in a movie, continued to serve drinks. The bride burst into tears, and I made coffee. The groom's father shouted "does anyone have a speaker?" and I whipped cream. A cell phone was placed on a chair on the dance floor, but the music did not sound good enough to dance, and I still thought my best chance to save the evening was to get nice lines in my hotshots. It was only after the insultingly clear remark "if still my son who played the piano had been here" that I understood what kind of film I was in. So I put down my glasses of cloudy coffee soup and sat down at the piano.

For some reason, I start with Jungleland. Of course, it immediately turns into a sing-along of Faith and Doubt. Springsteen talks about music as a way for the quietest people to find their voice, and I, who did not yet dare to sing and play at the same time, was extremely happy for the voices that now instead filled the room. The DJ stood behind the bar and showed where the cupboard should be, the tips hailed, and I got wishes that I could only dream of as a troubadour in the following years. I had no set list, no party-friendly repertoire at all, but only guesses and fragments of things I like. And that was exactly what the guests wanted. It was a bizarre mood that wrote bizarre rules, and my emo heart danced.

That night it became clear that I needed change. Cleaning and closing after the wedding kept me going until 5 in the morning, which also caused the tip to burn up in a taxi home. When I was in a bad mood the next day, the boss thought I should take care of myself. At the same time, the night's adventures had not gone unnoticed, so we agreed that there might be a better place for me. I had given up the job as a bartender for anything at the time, and most of all, I had given up any job to relive that night's gig. It is somewhere where the film ends and reality takes over, and as usual in reality, it took a little longer to get out of there than one had imagined. We got a better boss, among other things. But for the sake of pace, I like to cut off a few months there at the end and jump to the cute end when I work full time as a troubadour. It's a story that gets both better and sillier every time I look back on it.

And like the melodramatic turkey movie it is, of course it has a killer soundtrack.”

What a story, uh?

[havocinthebluebox]

Tagged by @magical--wizard, thank you honey ! Oh, this one sounds really fun !

If I was an album: Children of the Night by Tribulation

If I was a cover album: Yeah, are we talking about cover art here ? I’d say anything by “Necrolord” because you know... blue !

If I was an instrument: Bass

If I was a tune/song: Waters of Ain by Watain

If I was a riff or a solo:

      riff: Where Dead Angels Lie by Dissection

      solo: Jungleland by Bruce Springsteen. It was hard as fuck to chose but this one takes the cake...!

If I was a music era: The one during which I was born : the glorious / mad 90s of black metal !

If I was someone of my favourite musicians:  Give me Peter Steele vocal/bass abilities and we are good. Or good old Lemmy, because Lemmy. Or Mia Wallace !!

If I was a member of a band which I love: Motörhead ! Imagine all the crazy parties... but Rammstein or Judas Priest would be dope as well.

If I was a music engineer for an album which I love:  Dan Swanö, Nightmare Industries or 

If I was a mixtape which songs I would prefer:

SIDE A: 

Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen

Silly god Disco by The Gazette

Helvegen by Wardruna

Percées de Lumière by Alcest

Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

Embrace the Endless Ocean by Amon Amarth

SIDE B:

Living After Midnight by Judas Priest

Victory Song by Ensiferum

Hymmne au Vampire by Seth

Where Dead Angels Lie by Dissection

Highway Unicorn by Lady Gaga

Waters of Ain by Watain

You know the deal : I am not tagging anyone but if you want to do it, @ me and say I made you do this cause I’d be delighted to read your answers !

[rjm773]

Do you want to know what peaking feels like? As much as I and so many - including Trey Anastasio, who was an attendee - want to believe, I’m not sold on it being any of the Darkness tour in 1978.

I think Bruce hit it in 1975, on the nose. His abandonment of the solo-piano “Thunder Road” has been disappointing in the years since. Otherwise, that show is perfect.

To have nothing to lose but with the world at your feet, given the dual national magazine covers of the week. Bruce is out here fronting a band of Jersey Shore renegades, and the UK press is on him like Dylan because they thought they didn’t have anything better going on, despite there being a front merging shortly thereafter.

At one point, he loses his hat; Springsteen may very well end up our last Vaudevillian performer, some NBA players perhaps excepted. He may be the last perfectionist of the form, anyway.

With a handful of possible exceptions, nobody has ever felt more of their place than Bruce Springsteen - he creates the alleys and prefab apartments and lakes that you want to figure out a way to get to, simply by being around.

You end up looking for a specific bakery’s sponge cake on the way back from a town that had never heard of you, and that you wish you’d never been to in the first place, but the sponge cake…well, anyway, you’ll tell your mother about it, and maybe she remembers a family entity going there once.

Bruce loses it - his mind, not his hat this time - during an absolutely monstrous performance of “Jungleland.” You’d be foolish not to, of course.

The one and only time I saw an actual, classic-era E-Street Band performance was in Charlotte in 2009, and that even excepts Danny Federici; they performed “Born To Run” in its entirety. Anybody would be mad not to lose their mind at Clarence Clemons’ sax solo. I surely did. I can’t imagine a band managing that capably in 2022, let alone in 1975. That’s why he’s the Boss.

[dorsalstop]

#80 - 1975/1: Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run

The sleeve: as Springsteen parked his arm on Clarence Clemons' back, did he know he was striking a classic rock'n'roll pose, and indeed was it as classic as it is now? In any case, it's a great sleeve (also when flipped open to reveal Clemons and the annotated tracklist) from font to composition.

Had I heard this before: why yes - this was a bit of a favourite before this listening project.

The most Springsteen Springsteen? There's opener "Thunder Road", which contains the lines "Well the night's busting open / These two lanes will take us anywhere / We got one last chance to make it real / To trade in these wings on some wheels" - Springsteen bottled. And there's the title track, which opens side two with "In the day, we sweat it out on the streets / Of a runaway American dream / At night, we ride through mansions of glory / In suicide machines" but I could quote all of it to make the point. The songs that follow each of these also tell tales of dead-end towns, dreams of getting out, hitting the open road, saving her, being saved by her.

In step with these lyrics, the music also goes all out and more than occasionally over the top. An updated Spectorian Wall of Sound washes over the listener for most of the record, propelled by that roaring sax, while repeated listens reveal one lovely detail after another, from the way the rhythm and lead guitar trade off each other in the second half of 'Thunder Road" to the melodic bassline in "Backstreets" to the strings on "Jungleland".

I dare anyone to encounter all this heart-on-sleeve, almost-too-much-to-bear, desperate romanticism and be left cold by it. I can kind of imagine some listeners thinking it's all a bit too much and also, who does Springsteen think he is - Goethe, Shakespeare, Spector, Dylan, all rolled into one? - but personally I am utterly convinced by it and I've always marvelled at how the emotions wrought on the cracked concrete of working class New Jersey are able to travel and translate to my comfortable, safe European home. Proof, no doubt, that it's a universal desire to find your Wendy and get out while you're young.

[A]

Up next: a round-up! Finally!

[hotdamnhunnam]

I love this!! Thank you again for sharing with me such a lovely list 😘

I have now come up with pairings for all of these songs with their best-fitting fics... in my opinion at least ✨

************************************

Fic Playlist

HotDamnHunnam x Lana Del Rey

Songs suggested by @flaireandsynch; pairings by me

“Salvatore” — I Cum in Peace This song has such a luxurious, languorous feel to it which screams Ray to me! Plus the name “Salvatore” seems sort of evocative of his role as Consigliere... and I mean, this is a fic about cum play which fits very well with these lyrics repeatedly referring to “soft ice cream” 🍦... I don’t know firsthand whether Ray’s cum tastes like vanilla soft serve but hey we can dream 😜

“Honeymoon” — Dream Baby Dream This song is borderline depressing (in a gorgeous way) which fits so well with the one fic that I’ve written for Charlie’s character from Jungleland who has a “history of violence” that surrounds him, but then in this fic everything changes now that Y/N has found him 💗 The fic title fits so well with the repeated line “dreaming away your life”! And the song title fits perfectly with the ending of the story (not to spoil the fact that he asks you to be his wife 💍)

“The Blackest Day” — His Time As noted in this anon ask about how I envisioned post-breakup Jax (which I think inspired your idea to create this list!) – this song is just SO FUCKING PERFECT for this fic, down to practically every last lyric... and the entire tone of it, the sultry sensual spirit... the way the buildup in the climax of the song feels so ORGASMIC is serious magic... thanks to this, I had a religious experience rereading one of my own fics 😂 lol so I give this anon a TON of credit!! ✨

“Religion” — Eat My Crow This is one of my angstiest fics, centered around a big fight stirred up by Y/N’s reaction to Jax’s bad habits—“It never was about the party or the clubs”—followed by hot makeup sex of course, because they always have to make love after war—“for you there's only love”... By the end all sins are forgiven, as they really are one another’s religion 🙏🏼 Y/N down on her knees before him in the bedroom is how they pray. The line “the storms come, in the eye we’ll stay” fits perfectly with this I have to say! 🌩

“Cruel World” — Jax Teller: Fuck You Better I think this song fits amazingly well with the early parts of this fic, in which Y/N is Jax’s best friend but has always been craving his heart and his dick! At the start of the fic Jax is carrying on like a “famous” proud champion 💪🏼 who “like[s] to party and have fun” and he comments on how Y/N has got her “little red party dress on”... he’s “wild” and “free” and “fucking crazy”... but then as the fic develops, blossoming into mutual confessions of love, Y/N comes to see that he’s been “crazy for [her]” all along ❣️

“Brooklyn Baby” — My Throne or Yours? Sooo this one may seem like a stretch but I can easily imagine it in an AU in which Brooklyn is Camelot, and I like that vibe A LOT. These were the lyrics that drew the parallel for me: “They say I’m too young to love you... too dumb to see... they judge me like a picture book...” 👀 This fic starts off with King Arthur’s court judging the queen hardcore, giving her dirty looks, because she started off as his whore. But the whole kingdom soon comes to know... that she’s just as badass as he is if not even more so 👑

“Fucked My Way Up To The Top” — Show Them I’m Yours Oh oh oh... the way the chorus goes “this is my show” and then erotically moans “go go go go go”.... 🔥 This filthy fic takes place in the clubhouse of SAMCRO, so there’s leather and smoke rather than “diamonds and pearls”... but otherwise these lyrics are so perfect for a fic that’s literally about Jax putting on a show for the whole world as he fucks up his dirty girl 😈

“National Anthem” — The Gavel Corrupts Just from the title and the lyrics, and the ceremonial tone of the opening music, this song gives off some serious Presidential vibes. And that’s perfect for this fic because it’s all about the first time Jax took on the President’s patch and then fucked his beloved wife! 👨🏼‍⚖️ “You can’t keep your hands off me or your pants on”... in Parts 1, 2, and 3, we can clearly see that Y/N is his “national anthem,” and the absolute love of his life 🇺🇸

“Cola” — Chick Flick Before Dick So this song gives off quite the sugar daddy dynamic, which I know doesn’t exactly fit with the relationship of high-school-sweethearts-turned-husband-and-wife in this fic... BUT the repeated line “my pussy tastes like pepsi cola”—I have to choose this fic just because of that lyric, without a doubt 🤪 It’s all about Jax using his skillful fingers and his sinful mouth to eat that “pepsi cola” pussy out!! 💦

“Cherry” — Iron Dickhead This song was tricky to pick, but when I saw the reference to “beaches” in the lyrics, it just clicked! A romantic private beach is the setting for Part 2 of this fic 🏝 It occurred to me then that the other lyrics are also a great fit because Y/N gets “ruined” and “set on fire” and “torn at the seams” and just “fall[s] to pieces” from the sheer force of Will Miller’s ironheaded dick 🍆

“Gods & Monsters” — One of the Hundreds It’s heartbreaking how perfectly these lyrics fit with Jax’s little fuck-bitch in this fic 💔... She’s crushing on him hard, but she has no piece of his heart... the loveless way he fucks, for her is like a drug: “fuck yeah, give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want”... lines like “I don’t really wanna know what's good for me” and “If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?”—align with this fic so well it’s crazy!! To this character, Jax really is both a god and a monster... ☠️

+ MY OWN ADDITION (I could add a lot more but will hold off for now... otherwise I get the feeling I’d create a mile-long list somehow...)

“Born To Die” — Cum Join the Murder This particular song/fic pairing just occurred to me immediately as soon as the idea came up to pair my fics with Lana’s music! The morbid tone of it, the haunting lyrics... this is one of my favorite Lana songs and CJtM happens to be one of my faves of my own fics 🖤

—————————————————

Thanks again @flaireandsynch!! I absolutely love this playlist 🥰

Lana Del Rey Songs to pair with your @hotdamnhunnam smut.

**She didn't put me up to this, I did this on my own accord.**

-- Salvatore

-- Honeymoon

-- The Blackest Day ((as noted by an Anon on her page))

-- Religion

-- Cruel World

-- Brooklyn Baby

-- F**ked My Way To The Top

-- National Anthem

-- Cola

-- Cherry

-- Gods and Monsters

**Peeps can add on if they want**

[funnynewsheadlines]

145 Stupid Things Kids Did That Adults Just Had To Share

We all used to be kids at some point, but child logic still remains largely a mystery. Even when we grow up and become parents ourselves. Imagine stuffing your backpack with "beautiful cube rocks" or bathing in paint containers after your parents spend $150.00 on a pool.

A subreddit r/KidsAreF***ingStupid offers a priceless collection of clueless little ones, both adorable and hilariously funny. “Like what, you seriously can't hula hoop? Jesus Christ,” says the description of the group with a whopping 1.7 million members. All that you're gonna see below will make you wonder whether you too were like this, and the answer is most likely positive.

#1 I Love Him Tho

Image credits: jungleland

#2 Lemme Go Take A Quick Nap So I Can Understand You

Image credits: WhiskeyMeAway-

#3 Kid Just Wanted To Be Sure

Image credits: mirielmargaret

#4 My Son's Latest Attempt At “Hide And Seek”

Image credits: smazarpay

#5 My GF Teaches 1st Graders. Her School's "No Tag" Policy Is Working Great

Image credits: jaywill808

#6 Speaks For Itself

Image credits: GoodishIntent

#7 Straight Out Of The Fantasy Book

Image credits: JulieMannell

#8 Phrasing

Image credits: someboysmother

#9 Another After Another

Image credits: MattWalshBlog

#10 Kids Are Bigbrain

Image credits: ginad129

#11 He’ll Never Have Get It Back

Image credits: TedCruzIsMe

#12 Words Can’t Explain Their Stupidity

Image credits: kansa04

#13 Incorrect

Image credits: EllieReedHayden

#14 Kid Describes Colour To A Blind Person

Image credits: Jammiedodger2000

#15 Dad Of The Year

Image credits: TwinzerDad

#16 It’s The Same Dog

Image credits: mollypriddy

#17 Was Asked To Grab A Screwdriver

Image credits: rosesvts

#18 The Next Picasso

Image credits: sphiaalln

#19 Oh No. Not The Tomato

Image credits: XplodingUnicorn

#20 One Time My Uncle Put A Wig On My Cousin's Head And Told Him It Was Permanent

Image credits: nyzoran

#21 Kid Buys Farts From Amazon

Image credits: kittydetonator

#22 Deception: 100

Image credits: DisneyHipsters

#23 2020 Vision

Image credits: jessemodz

#24 Blaming On A Doggo. Heckin Bamboozled

Image credits: Buff_52

#25 Close One, Kiddo

Image credits: kunachikun

#26 Friend Thought His Dog Wouldn’t Like Him Anymore

Image credits: Trev97

#27 You Telling Me There's Someone Else In This House That Draws Like A 4-Year-Old?

Image credits: yeager.bezuidenhout

#28 The Other Team

Image credits: DanielGAlarcon

#29 Mashed Potatoes

Image credits: Jazzicots

#30 150.00$ On A Pool For This Kid To Rather Be On A Paint Container

Image credits: kirktucci

#31 Oh Dear

Image credits: lauren_hovekamp

#32 Wholesome Stupidity

Image credits: Horrors-Angel

#33 They’re Identical, How Did Their Mom Notice?

Image credits: kbiegel

#34 Just Like We Practiced

Image credits: JannaKillHimNik

#35 Some Siblings Love

Image credits: youneverknowwhatyouregoingtoget

#36 It Wasn’t Even Double Stuffed Smh

Image credits: littlebluekid

#37 Found My Old Diary Entry From 2000

Image credits: malissatran

#38 Kid Thought He Was Sneaky

Image credits: LucTheCookie

#39 Parenting

Image credits: om_eye_goodness

#40 The Kid Decided She Doesn’t Like Squash Anymore. Big Fan Of Yellow Cucumbers Though

Image credits: hsr6374

#41 Smashed It With A Hammer

Image credits: bloodpilots

#42 Seems Like A Good Trade

Image credits: HenpeckedHal

#43 Ya Gotta Check

Image credits: mommajessiec

#44 I Was A Stupid Kid

Image credits: D4m1tB0bby

#45 Child Sacrifice

Image credits: jacaristar

#46 I Mean, He’s Not Wrong

Image credits: TallWafer

#47 While The World Is Fighting Over TP, My Toddler Is Giving Ours A Bath

Image credits: dmclb

#48 My Kid Swallowed A Penny While Showing His Little Brother How He Accidentally Swallowed A Sim Key The Day Before

Image credits: StumpedatUserName

#49 How Do You Lose A Cello?

Image credits: lesterkk

#50 I Believe I Can Lie

Image credits: YagamiRyuzaki

#51 My Girlfriend’s 10-Year-Old Sister Packed Her Backpack With “Beautiful Cube Rocks”, Which She Picked Because They Were So Unique

Image credits: Soothingwinds

#52 Well, It's Better Than Being Asked "Are We There Yet?"

Image credits: bradley163

#53 When Life Gives You Lemon Loaf, Call It Lemonade Cake

Image credits: anne_theriault

#54 Legendary

Image credits: BaseballBros

#55 My Daughter Just Turned 5 And Got A 5 Dollar Bill. She Wanted To Share Her 5 Dollars With Her Little Brother

Image credits: ThreeCherrios

#56 That’s A Stellar Deal

Image credits: samnewberyy

#57 Sam By Day, Captain Ravioli By Night

Image credits: samlymatters

#58 They’re Pretty Wholesome At The Same Time

Image credits: CursedKisses

#59 Joe Jonas Wished He Had A Chance

Image credits: Emily_Runnels

#60 Mathematic Genius

Image credits: Lorde_Farquad

#61 Wait A Sec, There Are Real Bats?

Image credits: TragicAllyHere

#62 Makes It Easier To Predict A Child’s Future

Image credits: randypaint

#63 "Bears Don't Live Here!"

Image credits: CharacterFood9

#64 The Things You Deal With As A Waiter

Image credits: nickbossbat

#65 6-Year-Old Me Was Very Worried

Image credits: duelingo

#66 If It Fits, It Goes In The Drain

Image credits: ladyjriggs

#67 He Didn't Do It

Image credits: HenpeckedHal

#68 Ah, My Favorite Letter

Image credits: iwearaonesie

#69 The Day My Sister Tried To Kill Me (Or So I Thought)

Image credits: FourRomeoAlpha

#70 Solid Plan

Image credits: JoeyDarcyy

#71 Why Are Kids So Damn Crazy

Image credits: SeauxCocoa

#72 Worked A Treat

Image credits: hxrvn_

#73 “They Don’t Do That”

Image credits: kaangzz

#74 Donkeyyy

Image credits: petrichor1300

#75 This Is My 5-Year-Old Son's Art Project. He Whispered "They Look Like Boy Weiners"

Image credits: dafreak999

#76 A Letter From My Daughter

Image credits: Str8upbored

#77 Great Idea, Poor Execution

Image credits: NedHartley

#78 Imagine That

Image credits: bloodpilots

#79 Everyday Child Antics

Image credits: papaneedscoffee

#80 I Love Playdoh

Image credits: trinadahlgren

#81 Mystery Of The Wine Bottles

Image credits: azedi

#82 Plot Twist: He Lives At The School

Image credits: NachNach16

#83 Crack Smack

Image credits: Ganeos96

#84 “But That Is My Real Age!”

Image credits: hilaryk25

#85 Ah Yes, Youth

Image credits: DrPhilsSlut001

#86 Reaction To Almost Getting Hit By A Car

Image credits: ultr4nima

#87 Doesn't Expect To Get Kicked When Wearing A Shirt Saying “Kick Me” To School

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#88 They Were Arguing Over Who Got To Be My Foot Rest. So We Compromised And They Each Got One Foot

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#89 Texts From The Babysitter Never Surprise Me Anymore

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#90 It Also Works With Sea Bears

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#91 My 4-Year-Old Son's Search History

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#92 Lmao

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#93 My Little Sister Wondered Why Her Screen Didn't Work

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#94 What's The Dumbest Thing You Believed As A Kid

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#95 Snoop Dogg Approves

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#96 My Brother-In-Law Got This Email Today

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#97 Famous Kids Are Also Stupid

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#98 The Wonders Of Childhood

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#99 You Learn Something New Every Day

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#100 But She Ate It Anyway

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#101 My Nephew’s Latest Artwork. Teacher Is Shook. Parents Are Shook. Horse Couldn’t Be More Proud

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#102 Daughter Decided To Toast Her Crackers In The Heater And Not Tell Me About It For A Couple Of Years

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#103 But Is It?

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#104 An Interesting Title

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#105 Kids Are Special Beings

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#106 Kid Kills His Fish

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#107 My Son After Trying To Get Back Down From Washing His Hands. Just Hanging There. Helpless

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#108 Like When You Can't Find Your Glasses And There On Your Head

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#109 Bird Is The Word

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#110 Me When I Was Like 6

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#111 Not Anymore

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#112 He's Crying Because He Bit His Own Arm

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#113 Kid Actually Thought She Was Going To Disney World For A Field Trip Without Parents

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#114 Son Brought A Stranger Into Our Beach House While We Were Sleeping

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#115 My Pre-K Rebellious Phase

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#116 Aah, The Young Mind Of A Young Child

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#117 Power Move

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#118 Now This Is A Commitment

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#119 Where’s The Money At?

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#120 Harvard Wants To Speak With This Kid

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#121 So My Kid Asked Me, "Why Is That Lady So Small?"

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#122 Toddlers Are Goldmines For Silly Situations

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#123 Play Along, Silly

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#124 Friend Went Though An Emo Phase. Meant To Say "Don't Label Me" But She Didn't Know How To Spell It

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#125 My Little Brother Tried To Block The Lens

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#126 I Would’ve Gone

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#127 Solid Question

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#128 Well Done

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#129 5-Year-Old Niece Wants A Bunny, So She Made This Trap On The Driveway

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#130 Someone Come Get This Kid

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#131 He Runs Full Blast Into Counters, Walls, People Like This But He's Laughing And Having A Grand Ol' Time

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#132 A Thrilling Turn Of Events

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#133 2-Year-Old Scared To Go Into The Room Because “Bad Yoda Was Watching Her”. Turns Out It’s Just The Backside Of This Powerpuff Girl Toy

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#134 Floating. It's Called Floating

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#135 The Tape That Had My Mom’s First Ultrasound Of Me, Until I Taped Reruns Of The Simpsons Over It When I Was 7

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#136 That Bath Mat Came Out Of Nowhere

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#137 My Poor Mom

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#138 A Perfect Betrayal

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#139 I Felt Inferior

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#140 Coffee The Destroyer Of The Young

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#141 I'm Sure No One Will Know Who's Son He Is

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#142 Took Me Years To Realize

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#143 This Is A Trick That Only Works Once

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#144 Misguided Altruism

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#145 Kids Are Just

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[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2019, Part I

On one hand, I fear the direction of American cinema, and I feel more personally distracted from great art with each passing day. On the other hand, my viewing was up 5% from last year despite my belief that I’ve gotten choosier. I even approve of most of the films nominated for Best Picture. Are the offerings just top-heavy this year? Are my standards declining? Answering questions like those is part of why I present a paragraph or two on everything I see each year, though I can’t even imagine someone sitting down and reading all of this.

Full disclosure: I haven’t seen Just Mercy, Monos, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Good Boys, Frankie, For Sama, or An Elephant Sitting Still. The tiers, as always, are Garbage, Admirable Failures, Endearing Curiosities with Big Flaws, Pretty Good Movies, Good Movies, Great Movies, and Instant Classics. GARBAGE

129. Cold Pursuit (Hans Petter Moland)- A film professor of mine showed us Wings of Desire and City of Angels, its American remake, in order to show us how a film can technically cover a story while losing the essence that made it special. I can only hope that Hans Petter Moland's Norwegian original is better than his stab at an English language remake, which fails completely at balancing violence and comedy. The movie almost announces its own boredom with the protagonist as it shifts focus first to the villain and then to cops on the case, all of whom have artificial quirks to try to give them life where there isn't any. The Neeson character's journey toward revenge is empty, so the film drifts from him, but it doesn't have anything to say with the other characters either. 128. Domino (Brian De Palma)- Seeking revenge, a Libyan informant roughs up a potential terrorist by throwing him over a restaurant bar. Cut to two cops driving wordlessly. Cut to the Libyan guy dunking the other guy's head in boiling soup. That interruption spells out what the rest of the film does: De Palma could not be less interested in his replacement-level actor's shoddy policework, especially in the self-parody of the last twenty minutes. Any intensity the movie has comes from terrorists (or Guy Pearce over-salting a salad), and then the police drain the momentum. Just make a movie about terrorists, Brian! And, as I've urged you for years, get rid of Pino Donaggio. 127. Beach Bum (Harmony Korine)- Moondog, the spacey, Floridian hedonist poet at the center of the film, is supposed to be "brilliant" and "a good guy" at heart according to his daughter. But at the daughter's wedding, he shakes the hand of her fiance, whom he usually calls "limp-dick," and he says, "What's your name again?" The line got a laugh in my theater, but is it likely that he didn't know the name of his daughter's fiance? Especially if he's a good guy who doesn't hurt people on purpose? It's one example out of a thousand of Harmony Korine making the goofy decision instead of the one that would benefit character or story. I thought that Korine had taken a turn for the lucid with Spring Breakers, but he just isn't interested in making anything consistent enough for me. There's an hour of consequence-free episodes to follow, though I did cherish Jonah Hill's three improvised scenes, for which he tries a sort of Tennessee Williams voice. You can admire how audacious some of the choices are--describing Zac Efron wearing Jncos makes the film sound more fun than it is--but looking at the poster gives you about 70% of what you would get out of the long ninety-five minutes. Yes, McConaughey's shoes are funny, but what else have you got? 126. Fyre Fraud (Jenner Furst, Julia Willoughby Nelson)- Half as good as the Netflix one. Please, by all means, explain to me what a millenial is again. 125. The Kitchen (Andrea Berloff)- One of my mentors stressed that Shakespeare worked in "cultural touchstones," truisms that weren't difficult to prove but served as a sandbox for all of the juicy stuff. So we all know that, say, too much ambition is a bad thing, but having that North Star at all times allows Shakespeare to ply his trade with character development and imagery and symbol. I know that The Kitchen isn't funny or cool or original, but it also doesn't really have an emotional or thematic core. It's a movie with neither the window dressing nor the window. I don't know what I'm getting at, but I watched the last five minutes twice to make sure that it actually was as anti-climactic and inert as I thought.

124. Climax (Gaspar Noe)- Ah, to be a provocateur who has made his best work already and took all of the wrong lessons from it. I don't envy Noe, who insists on formal rigor even when it adds nothing, who goes to greater, more desperate lengths to shock. A third of this film, embedded somewhere between the three openings, is gross young people talking, lewdly and clinically, about whom they want to bone. I thought I started watching French art movies to get away from locker rooms. 123. The Best of Enemies (Robin Bissell)- The supporting cast of Anne Heche, Wes Bentley, and John Gallagher Jr. avail themselves better than the finger-wagging, scenery-chewing leads, but that hardly matters in a movie this fundamentally broken. Apparently no one saw the problem with making a Ku Klux Klan president the dynamic hero of a school integration that he fought against, but that's how the story functions. He's the guy who casts the deciding vote and gives the speech at the end, but it's a bit anti-climactic for an audience that assumes, yeah, the White race is not morally superior to any other race. Congratulations on your realization, buddy. Long before that, Sam Rockwell’s character is inconsistent. Neither the Rockwell performance nor the Robin Bissell script can thread the needle between showing the heinous terrorist that a Klan member is and revealing the depth that foreshadows the character's change. The answer is to show the character being nice to his developmentally disabled son, which, again, doesn't get all the way there. That's cool that you love your own son, but, uh, that has nothing to do with the hatred that made you shoot up a girl's house because she has a Black boyfriend. Of course you can show these contradictions and changes in a character incrementally--lots of good movies have--but this one ain't going on the list. 122. The Intruder (Deon Taylor)- Probably the most two-star movie of the year. Prototypical in its two-starness. Instructive to me as far as what I give two stars. There’s a point of view error in the first twenty minutes that ruined it for me. ADMIRABLE FAILURES 121. Little (Tina Gordon Chism)- We're all good on body swap movies for a while. This one, otherwise undistinguished in its comedy or storytelling, is notable for just how specifically 2019 it might look in a time capsule: Here's a joke about transitioning as we're on our way to our job developing apps; there's a kid doing The Floss and talking to Alexa. Whoops! Bumped into a guy wearing a VR headset! 120. The Kid Who Would Be King (Joe Cornish)- I appreciate that somebody is still making movies for 9-10 year old boys, but I checked out hard and kind of just left this on until it was done. I don't like lore. Much less funny and urgent than Attack the Block, and it's crazy that this is the only project that came together for Joe Cornish in the intervening eight years. 119. Godzilla: King of the Monsters (Michael Dougherty)- Exhausting and joyless in its large-scale destruction, Godzilla: King of the Monsters pitches everything at the same volume, and even the end of the world ends up not mattering as a result. Despite (or maybe because of) the presence of such great actors, the screenplay dilutes the characters by having three fighter pilots or three scientists when all the lines really could have been given to one of these interchangeable figures. That's first draft stuff, homie. Still, Kyle Chandler is kind of awesome as the weathered one shouting about how everyone else is playing God. He reminds me of Larry Fitzgerald toiling away with professionalism on teams that would never sniff the playoffs. 118. Blinded by the Light (Gurinder Chadha)- I made it about twenty minutes into this movie before flipping the switch and making fun of it relentlessly. It tries to strike the heart-on-sleeve authenticity that a Springsteen song does, but if The Boss never overwhelms you with language, almost every line of dialogue in this film spells out what the character is thinking. The overbearing father is especially intolerable: "What is this music? You need to get rid of distractions and focus on getting a good job so that you don't end up a taxi driver. Like me!" I'm only sort of paraphrasing. Blinded by the Light is too well-meaning to be offensive, but it's absurd in its spoon-feeding. LMK, ladies: On the third time that I have headphones in my ears during a conversation with you, and I start buttering you up with lyrics to "Jungleland," will you still love me? 117. Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw (David Leitch)- What a summer, huh? The go-for-broke final setpiece redeems the film somewhat, and Vanessa Kirby is a welcome addition to the universe. But Idris Elba's first line, responding to a question about who he is, is "Bad Guy," and the characterization doesn't go too much further. I feel as if I have honed the requisite disposition to enjoy a Fast and Furious movie, but that doesn't mean that the most cliched thing has to happen at the most cliched time in the most cliched way.

116. I Lost My Body (Jeremy Clapin)- Not for me ultimately. The film presents itself as above the tropes of cinematic romance but sure seems to circle around them. Clapin is willing to set up the pins of, say, "I'm actually the pizza delivery guy but have kept it a secret for a year," but he is unwilling to knock the pins down with anything resembling catharsis. I don't know if the French bowl, but feel free to substitute whatever kind of metaphor they might get offended by.

115. The Lion King (Jon Favreau)- I saw the original Lion King when I was ten: old enough to think that Disney movies were beneath me but young enough to know nothing about art or the world. And I remember the way that the songs transcended reality: "I Just Can't Wait to Be King" turning into a Busby Berkeley number, "Be Prepared" taking on an expressionist green tint. It was mass entertainment that was far from experimental, but I remember thinking, "Can you do that?" As an artistic experiment, this remake is kind of confounding, to the point that I don't know whether to classify it as an animated or live-action film. The final scene starts upside down, and your eye adjusts to the idea that you're looking at a reflection in a stream, but that stream is a Caleb Deschanel-aided, computer-generated reflection of a reality. However, I return to my original point: You're missing something if you think The Lion King is a better story if it's more realistic. Capably made as The Lion King 2019 is, no one is referencing 42nd Street. These Disney remakes just reference themselves. 114. Stuber (Michael Dowse)- The critical community has been pretty forgiving of Stuber; I guess because it's a type of studio film that used to be common but now is not. Judged on its own merits, however, it's labored. The screenplay circles around questions of masculinity, but not in a way that hasn't been done better in other recent comedies. Perhaps most disappointing of all, I've seen Iko Uwais and Bautista fight before, and it looked a whole lot cooler than the way they're sliced and diced here. The ending's sweet at least. 113. After the Wedding (Bart Freundlich)- Think of what Julianne Moore could have accomplished in the time it took in her career for her to shoot four crappy movies with her husband. This is the type of melodrama that makes more sense after all of the revelations have cleared the air, but that doesn't mean the preceding hour and a half was any more fun because of the aftermath. 112. The Goldfinch (John Crowley)- One day someone's going to figure out how to coherently adapt a Dickensian novel and actually do that thing Crowley is trying to do: condensing two hundred pages of back story into 1/8th of a page here or a line there. Somebody's going to be able to figure out the little moments that are important and the big moments that aren't. And you'll all be sorry. The movie is ultimately hampered by the bad ending of the novel, in which a person who isn't a mystery writer has to solve a mystery. Perfect casting for Luke Wilson though. He definitely looks like a whiskey-faced dad who would steal your social security number. 111. The Souvenir (Joanna Hogg)- This movie is autobiographical. The protagonist has the same initials as Joanna Hogg, and she's attending film school at the same time Hogg did. But what a self-own it is for your hero, based on you, to be this inexpressive and restrained and deferential. The film is mostly about a cold romantic relationship--and I guess what the character learns through that experience--but when her beau's friend asks what she sees in him, she can't really say. Neither can the audience. I guess it's a skill to write a scene in which a family is having an argument that is so clenched-jaw reticent that the viewer can't even discern the topic of conversation for a few minutes, but it's not a skill I appreciate. 110. The Dead Don’t Die (Jim Jarmusch)- Jim Jarmusch must be a very good friend.

109. Velvet Buzzsaw (Dan Gilroy)- If the film were funny, I wouldn't mind the lack of narrative drive. If the film had narrative drive, I wouldn't mind the lack of atmosphere--glaring for a film that circles around to horror eventually. If the film had more to say, I wouldn't mind how pedantically it says it. If the protagonist's change of heart made sense, then I wouldn't mind that his conversion apparently happens off-screen. At least most of the actors seem to be having fun. I wasn't. 108. It: Chapter Two (Andy Muschietti)- I started squirming in my seat during a sequence somewhere in the circuitous second hour. Bill sees his old bike in an antiques window, haggles with a Stephen King shopkeeper cameo, and finishes the scene on a triumphant note, believing that his old bike will ride like the wind. Cut to the bike falling apart on the road, deflating his pride with comedy. Cut to a flashback of him riding the bike with young Beverly, serene and warm. Cut to him riding the bike again with determination until he stops, terrified. Within fifteen seconds, the film jerks us into four divergent emotions at a whim. The overall tone felt just as arbitrary to me, and that's before we get to the always-unclear line between fantasy and reality. And this time, the flashbacks of each young character's encounters with Pennywise are less scary because we know they all live into the present. Andy Muschietti just does not have a light enough touch to make this movie work.The last forty-five minutes are interminable. But I had all the same gripes with the first chapter, so personal taste is a factor. 107. Trial by Fire (Edward Zwick)- Perfect example of a true story that could use some poetic justice. I don't want to give away anything that the first line of the imdb summary doesn't already, but this ending could have been much more satisfying by changing one or two lines. This is a movie that recreates, multiple times, babies burning alive, but the ending is somehow more punishing. It's also one of those films that should have just begun at the halfway point. If we can praise special effects when they're done well, then they should be fair game when they're this embarrassing. Zwick definitely put his flash drive into the Lifetime computers for fire.exe.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Stanley: 🐓🍑🍭

(Again, I’ll leave it up to your interpretation 😝)

Thanks for another fun request! ❤️

Drabble Fest Rules (3 words –> 💯word smut)

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Stanley Kaminski (Jungleland) x GN!Reader

cock • peach • lollipop

🐓🍑🍭

“If your cock were a lollipop what flavor would it be?”

He sits back in his seat and smiles incredulously. “Hell, you’re asking me?”

“Who else? You strike me as the kind of freak who’d know something like that about himself.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m that flexible. It’s sadly out of reach.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant, Stanley—you’ve obviously kissed a girl right after she’s gone down on you to taste yourself just out of curiosity,” you state confidently. “My guess has to be strawberry. Or peach.”

“Let’s take that guess... and put it to the test.”

--- 💯 words ---

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