#jaxx things

[zylphiacrowley]

Red Alert Basement Jaxx vs. Metropole Orkest

[nando161mando]

Do Your Thing

[vincentmatthews]

Apologies for not posting anything as of late. I've been working on a lot lately. And none of them are good xD

[huachengapologist]

Hey, friends. I know things have been looking dire ever since the election. It's so easy to give in to the negativity, to let the gloom and fear take control. But. BUT!

- There are more black judges on the federal bench than there have ever been, and the majority of them are women. - There are now 12 openly LGBTQ+ judges on the panel - 4 Muslim judges have been appointed, when there hasn't even been a single Muslim judge previously. - The Right is warring with each other as Trump's racist anti-immigrant MAGAs clash with Elon and his

techbros after Elon straight up admitted that he's specifically hiring immigrants because he doesn't consider Americans to be smart enough for the tech industry (that's his story at least... but I'd also argue that the fact that immigrants have less worker protections played no small part in this decision, which is Not Good, so the MAGA backlash might actually be BETTER for Elon Apartheid Musk's intended immigrant employees? Who will almost certainly have some of the worst possible working conditions.) - More and more Republicans in positions of power are standing up against Trump and Elon and refusing to kowtow. - Ben Shapiro and Matt Walsh's attempts to use the CEO killing to further villainize the left backfired spectacularly, causing many of -- if not most of -- their fans to turn on them after their tone-deaf videos caused said fans to finally realize that Shapiro and Walsh's entire business models depended on the working class hating each other instead of the 1%.

I know there's more, but I'm running out of spoons. I just wanted to share a few of the things that have caused me, personally, to gain back at least a liiiiiiiiiittle bit of hope that things might not be as bad as they seem. So yeah. We take our wins when we can, right?

[bellsblargbin]

This is absolutely terrifying.

I remember when I found out CLAMP were huge Devilman fans and went "well that explains a lot". This is like that. I guess Pomni-Shinji jokes were spot on. Can't wait! <333

Whats your favourite show/movie?

End of Evangelion

[violentdeliiights]

to have and to hold [2] - creature of habit

[series masterlist]

butcher!simon riley x f!reader 1.6k

18+ mdni

cw: brief mention of cannibalism, gory imagery, mention of animal death/flesh/organs typical stalker butcher vibes, stalking/stalker mentality delusion etc, perv simon, brief mentions of war, ptsd, injury, military bullshit, mentions of divorce, price is a bad husband, johnny is a weird flirty objectifying perv, tf141 are NOT good people, overall graphic imagery, mention of domestic violence (not simon), mentions of murder, mentions of kidnapping

<- prev

♫ - songs for this chapter: enter sandman - metallica & where’s your head at - basement jaxx

Simon doesn’t see the harm.

He’s seen his fair share of what the world has to offer. How greed can corrupt even the most pious of men. How hunger can gnaw at a person’s psyche until they snap. A ticking sound you can only just hear, drives you to the brink of madness. He’s seen soldiers trapped in warzones eat their comrades when rations run out. Watched women become toys trapped in labyrinths for men twice their age. He knows how the world is to pretty young things like you. Pretty, soft, naive lambs get eaten whole. Chewed up and spit out. Ligaments torn apart. Tendons ripped from muscle, flesh sliding clean off the bone.

So, no, he doesn’t see the harm in checking on you every now and then.

It starts innocently enough.

Just checking in. Doesn’t want to scare you off, gentle thing that you are.

Doesn’t think you’d take too kindly to his great hulking mass standing over the road from the library, opposite that window you seem to love sitting in. You know, the one with the most comfortable seat that kind of squeaks as you settle in.

Maybe wandering past your flat on his nightly walk after work. Finds his joints lock up if he doesn’t stretch them properly. So what if his route just happens to meander past your building? Just wants to make sure you’re managing. Can’t have anything happening to you now can we, birdie?

It starts innocently enough but Simon will be the first to admit that it doesn’t continue innocently.

It doesn’t take long for him to find himself immersed in you. He knows you like the back of his hand- you’re his. Of course he does.

He knows that on a Monday, you sit and plan your week, and on Sundays you take what he’s heard you call an ‘everything shower’. He knows that some nights you look in your empty fridge and decide to have sleep for dinner (he’s not mad, just disappointed). He knows your favourite cafes and the way you sometimes limit yourself from going one week so it tastes better the next time you go. He knows what the toys in your bedside table look like. Knows how you throw your underwear in a drawer rather than fold it- makes his job easier, he’s sure you won’t notice if a couple pairs go missing. Knows that the bedroom has to be freezing for you to sleep. You keep the window on the latch every night. Ever so considerate, his tender lamb.

It takes a whole seven months for your paths to cross again.

Simon and the lads had gone out for a pint, one of the rare times they were all home at the same time. His palms itch with every second he’s not watching you.

It had become somewhat of a routine; he wakes up, opens up shop, takes his lunch hour where he strolls himself past the cafe you’re sitting in or past the library window you’re holed up in, goes back to finish his shift and shut up shop, ambles across town towards your flat, comes home to sleep and do the same thing the next day. Creature of habit. Creature.

Soothes his flaming palms with the cooled pint in front of him. Condensation collects in his palm’s heart line. Beads roll down the glass to collect in a ring on the table where he doesn’t bother to use a beer mat. Becomes sticky and sickly until he swipes at the puddle absentmindedly as Johnny talks his ear off. Something about the rugby maybe. Maybe a bird he’d shagged while on leave. Is it considered leave if there’s no plan to go back, he wonders. Supposes getting shot in the head is as good an excuse as any.

Price sat opposite him playing with the thick gold band on his ring finger. Simon recalls how messy that last divorce (Price’s fifth he thinks…maybe his sixth?) had been and deems that Price doesn’t like being married, he just likes having a wife. Likes a ring sitting heavy like a shackle, a weight that reminds John daily of his fuck ups but that he is also more than capable of acquiring another wife by the end of the year. Simon knows you’d never think of leaving him like that. He’d never give you a reason to.

Gaz is unusually quiet, sat looking almost through Johnny with glazed over eyes as he swishes the dregs of a pint around in his glass. Simon doesn’t miss those days. Returning from missions so harrowing you can’t even begin to describe what you’ve seen. It only makes sense that Simon became a butcher after he left the forces. Butcher of men returns from classified locations to mutilate and deliver animal flesh. Ice boxes filled with hearts and eyes and organs and his stomach stays completely settled the entire time.

“Phwaw, she’s a feckin’ sorry sight isn’t she? What’s a bonnie lass like her doing here?” Johnny’s voice cuts through Simon’s brain fog like a machete, slicing through the thick invasive weeds overtaking his mind.

His head snaps up like a soldier to attention. The pint glass in his clutch nearly shatters as his fingers tighten around it instinctively. It’s you. His lamb. Here.

You’re standing there in a tiny little vest, your tits near enough spilling from the top. It hugs your stomach and slope of your back perfectly, the jeans on your bottom half all but clinging to your arse. He remembers seeing the scuffed trainers on your feet scattered about your bedroom as you rushed to leave for uni that morning.

You’re standing there looking like the tenderest cut of meat he’s ever seen. And from a quick scan of the pub, every other dirty pervert in here is thinking the same thing.

Difference is, Simon is the only dirty pervert allowed to look at you like that.

The girl next to you is chatting your ear off as you stand awkwardly playing with your necklace. She’s pretty, sure, but Simon hasn’t so much as thought about another woman since he met you. You’re the one.

“Eyes. Off.” His teeth separate just enough to force the order out without tearing his eyes off of you.

A snort from Johnny has him reluctantly swinging his head to look at the younger man, “Ye already called dibs, Ghostie? Tha’s nae fair. A’ saw her first.”

“She’s mine, MacTavish. Don’t fuckin’ try it.”

“Jaysus, calm your heid. Wasnae gonna dae any’ing. She the lassie you’ve been creepin’ on? Boy did good, she’s mighty braw.” Johnny’s eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline as he commends his old Lieutenant, looking around the table at the other men still gazing at where you stand ordering at the bar.

Your friend has disappeared by now, gone to the toilet or outside for a ciggy and unknowingly leaving you to fend for yourself amongst a pack of hungry wolves.

“You ever gonna speak to her, son?” Price’s gruff voice is a welcome reprieve from the slightly slurred rambles of the drunk Scotsman.

“Mmm, gonna wait ‘til she’s ready first. Don’t need her runnin’ off on me.” Simon’s eyes are still locked on you. A sniper with his target set. A hunter counting down his breaths whilst his finger rests on the trigger.

“You? Waiting? Pfft, yeah okay.” It’s the first time Kyle’s properly opened his mouth all night except to half-heartedly agree to Johnny’s drunken word babble.

Simon’s eyebrow raises behind his mask, “s’That supposed ta mean, Garrick?”

“It means, when have you ever, in your bastard life, waited for anything? I’ve watched you tell terrorists to fuck off whilst they’ve held guns to your forehead. Watched you run into active war zones with your chest pumped so full of lead you’d set off a metal detector,” Gaz’s eyebrows are so furrowed in frustrated confusion that it looks painful, “And you’re telling me you’re just gonna wait around and see if this girl wants you? Sure, okay.”

The more Kyle talks, the more Simon realises he’s right. He’s fucking right.

For the last seven months, Simon’s been following you around desperate for the day you turn around and admit what he already knows. That you crave him like he craves you. That you want to crawl into his chest cavity and take your rest. That you need to bury yourself under his skin until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

For the last seven months, you could’ve been his. What the fuck was he doing?

The only good thing his bastard father ever told Simon was that if you want something, you take it. Spewed it through clenched teeth when Simon and Tommy would come home to him stood towering over their mother. Would bark it between coughing his tar-filled lungs up as he would drag another pretty bird into the back garden shed.

Only, Simon remembers the white hot fear in the girls’ faces. Sweat dripping from their forehead into terror crazed eyes, sobbing and writhing, kicking and grunting behind layers of duct tape wrapped around their heads. He remembers the smell of blood and whiskey that always seemed to linger around his father. Remembers how the only ‘gift’ his father ever gave him was on his 15th birthday, when he was allowed to enter that shed. His father died the following month. Simon left for the military a year later. He never celebrated his birthday again.

Simon remembers the fear in the girls’ faces. He doesn’t want that for his lamb.

But if that’s what it takes.

[vile-corvid]

Getting to know me

Tagged by @redwiwo 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

Rules: tag 10 people you want to get to know better

Last song: Where's Your Head At by Basement Jaxx

Last movie: Mononoke Karakasa

Last book: Rereading the first warrior cats series, I also plan to read The Hunger Games books 👍🏻

Last TV show: Mononoke series, rewatching it despite just finishing it this month...

Sweet/savory/spicy: Savoury over all, sweet things are great in moderation though

Relationship status: single

Last thing I googled: whoville cars (Honorable mention: Lobster costume)

Looking forward to: artfight, and the next tomodachi life :O

Current obsession(s): JJBA, mononoke, and my ocs.... rrrrgh.... grrrrh.....

Tagging (No pressure): uhhhh @mrmillipede @warmtoastysock @valhallgreg

Idk who else to tag, anyone else feel free to join 🪱

[pupmilo-nl]

Now don't crawl back and ignore your training boy... You said you will be a good boy for me so be one! I didn't put you through obedience training for nothing boy. I know my feet stink. But be thankful boy, it is my stink after all. A scent you'll learn to like very much, that's one thing for sure! Now come closer boy, kneel down as the good pup you are.

Take a deep breath, in .... And out .... Good boy! That's it. You feel it burning don't you 😈 Yes you do. Wore them for weeks just for you boy! Now come even closer, push your nose up there! That's it boy! Now breathe!

Good boy!

@pup-jaxx his stinky socks 🤤 Awrooo

[nintendocompositions]

I believe in music, I believe in hope, and I believe in you. Welcome to Club Delfino, now DANCE YOUR ASS OFF~

Splatoon (Toru Minegishi) - Inkopolis Plaza Persona (Shoji Meguro, Yumi Kawamura) - School Days We Love Katamari (Hideki Tobeta, YOU) - Angel Rain Final Fantasy X-2 (Jade Valerie, Kazuhiro Hara, H-wonder, Takahito Eguchi, Noriko Matsueda) - Real Emotion SSX 3 (Basement Jaxx) - Do Your Thing ~ Jaxx Club Remix Jet Set Radio Future (Idol Taxi) - OK!?House!!!!!????? Samba de Amigo (Bellini) - Samba de Janeiro Sonic Mania (Naofumi Hataya, Tee Lopes) - Stardust Speedway Act 2 Bayonetta (Hiroshi Yamaguchi) - Let's Dance, Boys! (BAИSHI Big Booby Bootleg) Pokémon Sword & Shield (Minako Adachi) - Battle! (Gym Leader) Lumines (Eri Nobuchika, Shinichi Osawa) - I Hear the Music in My Soul Touch My Katamari (Yū Miyake) - Katamari on the Funk (Takeshi Nakatsuka edit) DDR Max (OKUYATOS, Sota Fujimori, Johnny Dynamite, Erica Ash) - Kind Lady Funk Disco Extended Mix) Touch My Katamari (Yū Miyake) - Alien (feat. BAKUBAKU DOKIN) Splatoon 2 (Shiho Fujii) - Showdown! (Calamari Inkantation) Kingdom Hearts (Utada Hikaru) - Simple And Clean -PLANITb Remix- Katamari Forever (Yoshihito Yano, Micazo) - Sayonara Rolling Star (Yuri's Mixx) Space Channel 5: Part 2 (Tomoya Ohtani) - Strobe Action #3 NiGHTS into Dreams (Tomoko Sasaki) - Message from Nightopia Lumines (Eri Nobuchika, Shinichi Osaka) - Lights

I DON'T OWN THE RIGHTS TO ANYTHING!

[kissedlver]

Hi hun! Could I request for a Jey fic where reader is engaged to Jey, but gets mad when she read that he had invited Sexxy Red to be his VIP guest and he makes it up to her. Smut or fluff, you decide!

Love your writing!

fuck my baby daddy.

jey uso x fiancé!fem!reader.

warnings: jey being an idiot, smut, the tiniest bit of exhibitionism (but not really), praise kink, and finally fluff!!

hope you enjoy it bookie 💋. @bebesobrielo

xoxo vaeh.

y/n l/n pov.

Upset can’t describe how i’m feeling right now. Joshua decided it would be a good idea to invite no other than mrs fuck my baby daddy herself, Sexyy Red, to be his vip guest.

“hey mrs fatu,” i heard from someone in front of me. I looked up before locking eyes with Trinity’s. I rolled my eyes laughing before shaking my head.

“girl what’s wrong, you look off?” she spoke as she sat in the chair beside me.

“you’re fucking brother in law is what’s wrong.” i sighed as i ran my hands over my face.

“lord, what did thing two do now?” she shook her head. i didn’t say anything as i just unlocked my phone before showing her the twitter post.

“sexyy red?? what the fuck do he got going on.” she semi-yelled as she read the post.

“girl he got me fucked all the way up, entirely.” i spoke as i placed my phone back into my lap.

“oh girl. i know exactly what you can do.” Trinity said before grabbing my phone &’ tweeting something.

i looked at her after she hit post and smirked as we made eye contact.

｡ﾟ•┈୨time♡skip୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“FUCK MY BABY DADDY??” Jon flinched as he heard his twin brother yell. Jon turned around looking at Josh with wide eyes.

“uce what the hell wrong with you, yelling in my damn ear like that.” Jon said shaking his head before having a phone shoved in his face by Josh.

Jon laughed as he saw what his brother was yelling over. his soon to be sister in law had tweeted out, “fuck my baby daddy” and Josh was freaking out.

“damn uce, what did you do?” The older twin asked as he watched his younger brother pace back and forth.

“man uce, i don’t kno-“ Jon looked at his brother trying to understand why he cut hisself off. Josh’s eyes widened as he came to a realization.

“Sexyy, that’s why.” Josh said sighing as his brother looked at him confused.

“i invited her to be my vip guest and i guess y/n found out.” Josh continued as he ran his hands down his face.

“dumbass,” Jon mumbled before getting smacked in the back of the head.

“not the time Jonathan. i need help.” Jey sighed.

“alright uce , just calm down. i’ll call trin.” Jon speaks as he pulls out his phone before going to his wife’s contact and calling her.

“hey baby,” Trinity’s voice spoke from the phone.

“hey baby, look josh-“ Jon started to speak before the phone got snatched out of his hand.

“trin please i need your help, what did i do?” Josh spoke fast as he held the phone.

“well josh, we can start off by bringing up the fact you invited sexyy red to be your vip guest without warning your fiancé and now she’s upset because she found out from twitter instead of her fiancé.”

Josh could pass out from how stupid he felt at that moment. of course he was going to tell y/n about it, he just never got the chance to.

“shit trin, what do i do to make it up to her?”

“surprise her, take her to dinner and tell her why you didn’t tell her yet i guess.”

“thanks trin, i owe you.” Josh hung up the phone before handing it back to his brother.

“i’ll be right back.” Josh grabbed his phone and sped out of their shared locker room.

Josh passed by multiple superstars on the way to the women’s locker room. Some were confused on where he was rushing to and some had an idea on what was happening.

Josh stood outside the women’s locker room before knocking. He stood there for a minute before Nia Jaxx opened the door.

“Yo can you tell y/n i need to talk to her.”

Nia nods before closing the door again, only for it to open again a few seconds later to reveal an annoyed looking y/n.

“what josh?”

“listen baby i know how this seems but i promise you i was gonna tell you but every time i tried to one of us had something to do.”

Y/n sighed as she stepped further into the hallway closing the locker room door behind her. She grabs Josh’s hand before dragging him to an empty corner.

“I know we’re busy Josh but i wish you would’ve told me instead of me finding out from twitter. you know how twitter mixes things up.”

“I know baby but please believe me. i was gonna tell you.”

“i do believe you josh.”

“oh thank God.” Josh sighed out in relief as Y/n laughs.

“well i still want to make it up to you, let me take you out to dinner after the show tonight. it’s been a while since i’ve treated you to a night out.”

“okay Josh.” Y/n says as she smiles and leans up to place her lips onto Josh’s.

Josh smirks as the two engage in a heated make out session. His hands traveled down her body before reaching her ass. He smacked it before picking her up and placing her on a crate beside them.

Y/n leans her head to the side as Josh kisses her down her neck before going back to her lips.

The two were so lost in one another that they didn’t see Jon standing at the corner. Jon cleared his throat making the two jump.

“Sorry to interrupt but we got a match Josh.” Jon stated while awkwardly looking down.

Josh turned to Y/n and picked her up off the crate before placing her on the ground.

“you good?” Josh asked her when she straightened herself out.

“yeah i’m good, go ahead so you aren’t late.”

“alright, remember dinner tonight.” Josh said as he walked over to his brother.

“i’m guessing your apology went good.” Jon laughed.

Josh shook his head before laughing.

ﾟ•┈୨time♡skip୧┈• ｡ﾟ

yourusername posted on their story

nobody’s pov.

Josh staggered into the hotel room before closing the door with his foot as he held Y/n in his arms.

He made his way over to the bed before slowly sitting Y/n down on the bed. He let his hands roam her body before making his way to the back of her dress unzipping it. he slid the straps off of her shoulders before pulling the rest of it off her body.

He felt the blood rush to his lower body as he saw her bare body under the dress.

“oh so you wasn’t wearing nothing under that huh? You wanted other people to see what’s mine?” Josh spoke lowly as he lowered his lips to her collarbone sucking the skin before going lower.

Y/n moaned as she felt Josh start sucking on her chest. She let her hands snake down to his head before grabbing it and playing with his hair.

The two were lost in each other as their bodies pressed together in a long and passionate embrace, the weight of the world seemed to lift off their shoulders. The disagreement from earlier fleeting from both of their minds. They moved together in a slow and tender dance, lost in each other's touch.

Josh lifted his head from Y/n’s chest before he slipped his fingers down to her core.

Josh smirked at the girl under him as he feels how wet she is.

“I got you like that mama?”

as the sentence was being spoken, Y/n felt as he brought his thumb to her clit and started rubbing it.

She felt her breath get shakey as she tried to respond to him before giving up after she felt Josh’s fingers slid into her slick. she grabbed his arm trying to push it away from her.

“why you running baby? you wasn’t running when you was rubbing all on my dick at dinner. had me hard in front of all them people.”

“Josh please.” Y/n moaned out as Josh sped up his fingers.

“please what mama? i need your words.”

“i need you baby, i need your dick.”

Josh smiled before pulling his fingers out of his fiancé and bringing them up to his mouth.

He started to line himself up with her entrance before slowly pushing himself in.

Y/n’s back arched off the bed as she felt his dick inside of her.

“you feel so good around this dick baby. this yo dick.” josh grunted as he pounded mercilessly into her.

Y/n could only sob and beg shamelessly for more, hands clawing down his back as she felt her orgasm approached fast under his skilled touch.

Y/n felt her body shake as her orgasm took over her body, gushing around her fiancés dick. Josh felt his dick start pulsing inside of her as her pussy grips him over and over again.

Josh followed Y/n soon after as his cum shoots deep in her before his body collapses on top of hers.

“I love you girl and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you earlier.” Josh lowly said as he softly slid out of her before getting up.

“I love you too Josh. I promise it’s okay.” Y/n’s eyes followed her fiancé as he walked to the bathroom before coming back out with a wet rag.

Josh walked over to y/n before cleaning her up and picking her up to take her to the bathroom.

after she finished with her business and cleaned herself again, Josh came back into the bathroom before picking her up again. He laid her on the bed and gave her the water bottle he got her while she was in the bathroom.

He placed the cover over the both of them before leaning over and turning the light off.

Y/n placed the water bottle onto the nightstand before snuggling into Josh’s chest.

[vincentmatthews]

Motion for all of your ocs, please and thank!

Question from this OC Ask sheet💕

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Dean- Dean's clumsy, this man can trip on air and has tripped over his own feet before. His clothes being baggy don't tend to aid that either, he's stepped on the end of his pants and face planted before. His nose is very prone to breaking so if he's punched in the face or falls face first, his nose with break, which cleaning up the blood isn't fun.

Blue- He's naturally off balance which adds to his sense of chaos. As the same as Dean, he's a bit clumsy yet not to the extreme as Dean is. He wears mostly skinny jeans, booty shorts, and crop tops, which don't tend to snag as much, but when he wears the Valentinos' jacket, it does cut down on the rang of motion for his arms. He's not able to make long reaches or reach up too high due to the weight of the leather and the stitching of the jacket, stiffening up the arms and shoulders.

Jaxx- He naturally has very heavy set footsteps, almost as if he was stomping into them. He wears steel toned boots so he can kick the shit out of someone with it; which also tends to add some weight to his steps. Everything he does is pre-planned in some form or another. His clothes are his wolf t-shirt, leather pants, and his black leather overcoat. He's gotten into the habit of going shirtless, which frees up his arm along with making it easier for him to choke and punch people.

Vinny- Vinessa wears latex body suits that hug her body, or she'll wear a bralette shirt with leather black pants. Her way of walking is either more swaying as if she's dancing, or her movements would be swift and jumpy. Her clothes clinging to her makes it easier for her to get the full range of motion, and makes it less likely for her to get grabbed.

[huachengapologist]

Allies when cis men dress femme: omg, queen! Slay! So bold, so brave, FUCK gender roles!

Allies when trans men dress femme: Idk, I just feel like if they were REALLY trans they wouldn't be comfortable dressing femme. Seems kinda sus, if you ask me.

[sophaeros]

the strokes at a pub in london, with the robot gifted to them by rip it up's journalists

the strokes for rip it up - new zealand, october/november 2001 / no. 283 — web version print version

The Strokes, us and a robot in a pub...

by The Ballroom Regulars Photos by The Strokes and Ju-ju (unless otherwise noted)

'The coolest band on the planet', the saviours of Rock, featured in Elle Magazine, played on the Catwalks of New York and Paris, hounded, followed and adored - Not since Oasis broke have the British press put all their eggs in so fabulous a basket. Rumours abound - their names are made up, they were put together by the lead singers dad (John Casablancas, founder of The Elite Model Agency), they're constantly fighting with each other, they're constantly fighting with strangers, they drink too much, they're gay, they're straight, they're homophobes. Everybody wants to know everything they can. But one thing is sure, The Strokes are roundly agreed to be the quintessential Rock band, the 'great white hope' of nu-Rock'n'Roll. But they're more than that. They're five guys who hooked up in High School with a shared interest in booze, girls and guitars.

So what are they all about, besides saving us from the glut of pre-masticated pop and soul stifling dance, what are their hopes and ambitions?

Meeting Julian Casablancas is like meeting living proof that rock'n'roll will never die. At 22 he should be embracing the 'Now' culture of many of his peers. He should be scrupulously clean, drug and booze free, heading down to Florida for the summer break with a pretty blond on his arm and Basement Jaxx on his personal MP3 player.

But he's not. He's still in bed, hung over, refusing to get up. He is unwashed, jet lagged and beer crusted. YAY! When he finally does show, 2 hours late for the day's round of fanzine wackiness, he's disheveled and rye. His grin is about as infectious as rabies and he is, frankly, as sexy as fuck. "Hey" notes Ryan Gentles, their Wunderkind Manager, whose been sitting fretting in the hotel lobby for what appears to be half the night and all of the morning. "This is new..." he means Julian's tan La Coste jumper... not the attitude.

When we get our turn at The Strokes info trough the boys are tucking into Thai rice and a round of the amber nectar. It's 1pm. The sun is shining. Handshakes and suitably half-assed 'nice to meet you's' are flung at us and we wade in...

First, an Icebreaker. Giving them a present fresh from Brixton Market - Your All Plastic Friend: Sir Mixalot Prime - hastily re-christened toy Robot of Asian origin, is about as good as ice breaking gets. The mood of the interview is set... they like us, we admire and respect their ability to make Sir Mixalot simulate sexual intercourse with Nicolai Fraiture. "You bought us a present? That's so cool!" they chime satisfyingly. All except Julian who looks mortified, "I had a dream last night and that Robot... a Robot just like that destroyed the world..." Ah...Ok, maybe we should get straight to the questions.

Right, so what makes the world turn for them? Playing music and doing their stuff, by all accounts. Their stuff: a sublime mix of 70's NYC and noughty's savvy. Fashion flash and strep throats, with a smattering of anglophilia to match the op-shop chic. Garage soul sensibilities and themes as diverse as personal disgust and underage lust. They are 'The Kids' too so it seems right to mellow out with a few pop culture questions to gauge their mind sets:

In the movie Warriors, which gang did you relate to most? Fab: Oh wait...I've seen that. Is that like the 70's one where they're in gangs running across New York? Yeah! Nicky: There's the baseball gang, and the “girl gang” Fab: What was the main gang? WARRIORS! Albert: WARRIORS! Fab: Yeah, we're the Warriors!! Totally.

After an hour of this we discover that Julian always roots for the underdog and doesn't "really give a fuck about baseball" and that the last time Albert cried was "as the plane was taking off". For Fab it was when Nicky's girlfriend dumped him (for the cute one from Weezer no less). At this Nicky leaps to his feet to sing Don't Cry For Me Fabrizio! At the top of his lungs.

"The Beatles hated each other, but we love each other", Nicky says. To prove the point they all agree that if they could only take five things to a desert island they would take each other and their Manager. That is until Julian demands that one band member opt out so they can "take something more useful like a girl... or our fucking instruments". In the nick of time Nicky reasons that they can make their instruments out of coconuts and bamboo.

The band are open and unguarded - they want to chat. Chiefly with each other, but it's fine just being around this kind of energy. They even happily answer the question that's been raging through the music press for the last six months: YES! Their names are real. As Nicky puts it "Course they're fucking real," gulp, "what a stupid question."

"You wanna see my passport?" yells an unfazed Fab. Cue enormous Italian passport (he was born in Brazil of Italian parents but grew up in NYC) and suitably hideous soccer mullet teenaged photo, nom de: Fabrizio Moretti. "It looks ridiculous," he sighs, "It looks like I'm out of the Military!"

Julian is also carrying proof, so you know they've had this problem before. Cue credit card sized driver's license and an acute sense of having offended your new friends.

Julian F. Casablancas. Nicolai Fraiture. Fabrizio Moretti. Nicky Valensi. Albert Hammond Jnr. You have to ask. You just have to.

Oblivious to the fact that nearly everyone in England is named John Smith, they are dumbfounded that they get asked this question at all. "I guess we just had cool parents who chose our names," chimes Fab, "My mom was like (mock Italian accent) I think this boy will be a rocking roll star!"

The table then descends into chaos and spilt pints as they 'discuss' the finer moments of Mrs. Moretti's partum experience. "But," adds Fab soberly, "she didn't know I was only going to be a drummer... she was too extravagant."

And what about their collective name? 'The Strokes' brings all manner of vaguely squishy images to mind, not the least of which is that favoured by the British press. "What? You mean like...masturbation?" asks Julian looking all innocent, like he is daring us to say the word. Er...yeah, or is that more indicative of your interviewers mindset?

"Nah, it's got nothing to do with that... well... it has, but, no." Albert takes up the baton, "Actually I was reading something about strokes and it described it like a lightening strike in the brain that changes everything." He passes it to Fab, "It's like our music!" One hit and you're never the same again? "Exactly!"

Evidently no subject is sacred. When we finally get round to asking them the all-important 'Who was better - Wham! Or Duran Duran?' question, they almost all say Wham! (Except Fab who's enjoying singing 'Rio' at the top of his voice...bless) Why not Duran Duran? "They took themselves too seriously." states Nicky emphatically.

Fair cop. But a bit rich coming from a band that refuse to do video's, co-produced their debut album without taking any credit, and toured every little pub town from here to Toad Suck, Arkansas. A band who have yet to release an LP (slated for September) despite appearing on the cover of every self respecting music mag on both sides of the pond. They take themselves seriously, OH YES.

The album, 'Is This It', took them one month to record... one month... thirty days. It is the product of their 'salad days' gigging around Manhattan and Philadelphia.

 "That's why it works so well," says Fab, "we've had a really really long time to perfect the album outside the studio... an album that's like... that's who we are as The Strokes."

Who they are is a piece of carefully crafted art that WILL move you from the groin on out. A record to be cherished for its ability to make you smile and get up. Surely this is the wonder of 'Is This It', it's Rock 'n' Roll that makes ya wanna move.

After experimenting with a different producer, namely Gill Norton of Hüsker Dü fame, the boys went back to their old friend Gordon Raphael who originally produced their 3 song EP 'Modern Age'. They wanted to cut back on production, as Albert says, "To keep it true to the live set." They all agree that Norton was great, but not for them.

"Doing things professionally doesn't fit with our style," the lax and by now pissed voice of Julian crawls across the table, "if we stay...raw it sounds, like...great." RAW?! Talk about understated! On the track 'Take It Or Leave It' you can hear this man's tonsils crying out for mercy, you can smell the blood on Albert's shirt sleeves... This ain't no Radiohead mate.

The band even co-produced the album to maintain a level of control over the sound. The chemistry between them and Raphael worked it's way onto the vinyl.

"When you're working with someone and you know that the two of you are just doing something better than you were doing on your own. That's the best way to work." says Julian of the experience. They're not completely pleased with the Steve Albini School of Sound Engineering however. "I don't think it looks that cool when a band produce themselves," pipes Nicky, "You wanna picture the band going in and playing the songs (not) oh now they're too cerebral. It's like a fun thing." So no credits for the boys. They just wanna rock, and drink. Which has to be admired.

They're also un-phased by the press's insistence on linking them to The Velvet Underground, The Stooges, The Ramones and any number of late 70's NYC Punk they care to mention. 'Is This It' isn't going to shatter anyone's illusions about what these boys want to sound like. This album springs from the head of John Cale fully formed and fighting fit.

"What a cool band to be compared to," admits Julian about The Velvet Underground. He means a band that's beloved and credible, different and weird... not to mention fucking good. "It's sorta a subconscious goal to have music that cool, but actually make it popular... a cool way to make popular music more interesting." Hurrah.

We demand an explanation for so suddenly signing to majorinos RCA then. A chorus of oohs and ahhs goes up around the table before the earnest protestations that RCA are the best of a bad bunch, not so bad, and quite ok really fly. They do look slightly... defensive? Cautious? Albert pipes up: "It's like being a bisexual!" Being with RCA is like being a bisexual? "Yeah, you get the best of both worlds."

The rest of the band agrees. "They just give us money and stay out of our way" says Nicky, flicking his hair out of his eyes.

Are they unrepentant about signing to a major?

"I had the fucking head of RCA on the phone at 4 o'clock in the morning," states Julian, "telling me how much he loved the album." Yes indeed.

So sign to the Rough Trade phoenix for your soul's sake and the Big Money for lig? Why is this not sickening? Why are the credibility censors not in overdrive? Because this is a BAND pure and simple. Mates who saw the spark reflected in each other. And they ain’t that pretty or well dressed. OK they are, but the point is, they just ARE. The Strokes were always going to happen thank Christ. A wake up call for the apathetic. No slouching unless you mean it. More than the sum of their parts, more than The Velvets/Stooges/Television honorists.

"I had this idea to make it (the album) sound like music heard in the future from 30 years ago," says Julian. Fab explains, they were listening to the radio and La Bamba by The Gypsy Kings came on.

"It was terrible and Julian said we should make it (their music) sound like it was the original, by Richie Valens."

Huh? Julian pipes up, "I wanted to make the music sound like it was from 30 years ago, but being heard now. With everything that entails. Do you understand?" If he means pared down and honest to the point of embarrassing, then yes. "Or the other way", he says, "like music from the future heard now..."

True, 'Is This It', sounds a little like it's something you dug out of your Dad's wardrobe where the band on the cover are all wearing winkle pickers, whatever they are. There's more though, an understanding and knowledge that blasts the naïveté of 60's Garage out into space. It's lyrical. 'The Space ships they won't understand'?

"The lyric is 'IN space ships they wont understand'," corrects Julian talking about the bridge to 'Last Night', "and what it means is that in the future, when we're all flying to work in fucking space ships, it'll still be the same old shit. Like, no one will understand why you have to just do it." Fab leaps up to hug Julian, "That's fucking beautiful man!"

Julian's descriptive powers aside, aren't they worried that they'll loose this edge? Money, girls, and power, have wrecked havoc with better men than them.

"But who cares as long as it sounds like we want," mutters a very distracted Nicky, only putting his head up occasionally from his magazine. "I mean, rawness (derisive snort), maybe we will want it more produced if that's what we like."

And here in lies the rub. In a perfect world RCA would not throw money at these kids. RCA would ignore them no matter how good they actually were, no matter how much they want the cotton wool cosseting of the Big League. The band would have to work, creating themselves every step of the way. Paying their dues and becoming in the end a band utterly worthy of the great white hope tag that has been hanging so carelessly on their coat hanger shoulders. They are SO good, but you want them to be great. And Christ you can smell the greatness waiting to get out in every jangled chord of Hard to Explain, on every slinky line of Barely Legal. These things take time. One album does not a legacy make. There has to be more to come, and there is such a thing as too much too soon.

A friend said, they'll get exactly what they wanted. And the sad thing is so will we, the 20-episode Pop Stars fix. Will hype drown the creative spark? The worry is that in 6 months time no ones gonna give a fig about Fab's broken hand, and Julian's Dad, anymore than they'll care about any second album. The backlash that never should have been may have already begun...

A few days later we bump into The Strokes lending moral support to fellow NYC space cadets, the Moldy Peaches, at their first London gig. The boys are high as heaven having come straight from the BBC where they recorded three songs for the legendary Top of The Pops. "Man," wails Julian, resplendent in pink silk tie and shiny grey suit jacket, "It was so fucking cool! It fuckin' rocked!"

Fab is more sedate. "I can't believe we did it, but I fucked it up!" Surely not? "I was so nervous I kept making mistakes. I sucked." But watching their performance on the show later it is easy to see that this is a band still on the rise, perfectionism aside they control the stage, the cameras and above all the hearts and souls of an audience more accustomed to Shaggy and Nelly Furtado. The fact that they're on TOTPs at all (their single Hard to Explain entered the UK charts in the top 20 on a wave of passion and NME hype) speaks volumes about the music buying public's desire for some goddamn GRUNT.

At their epoch marking, celebrity studded, sold out show at Heaven in London, tickets are changing hands for £150! At the after party the place is in a frenzy. The boys can barely move for the cameras clicking, autographs to be signed and girls hanging off every thread of their thrift store suits.

"I've been trying to get to the other side of the room for the last hour," Julian says incredulous and separated from his mates as they are accosted from all sides.

Nicky is posing in a photograph for a fan. Nicolai is signing a CD. Albert is being followed and literally clawed by a young female. It is as if she senses that this is her only chance before he gets blasted into the rock god pantheon. Fabrizio escapes the seething mass, broken hand in a sling (sadly replaced temporarily half way through their UK and Australian tour with Strokes friend Matt Romano), opting to talk to people outside the guest pass zone.

They have made it, with all it entails. Young, talented, beautiful, cool and full of charisma, it seems that the rock and roll glitterati is at their blessed Rock'n'Roll feet. Hype and fashion aside, the music stands for itself. This is what we've been waiting for.

[xoxo-stellea]

⋆.˚✮ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒕? ✮˚.⋆

ᴄʜʀɪꜱꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☘︎

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ//ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋꜱ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ˙⟡٠࣪⭑

It’s a rather quiet Saturday night as you and Chris stand in the kitchen cooking together while Nick and Matt played some game upstairs.

Chris just out the noodles into the boiling water cus you were making pasta with tomato sauce and shrimp. He turns from the water to you.

„Could you set a timer for like 12 minutes?“

„Yeah sure…, wait a second“

You take your phone and lean over the counter and set the timer like he asked you to but right as you switched to snap to check the messages your friend sent you you start to feel kinda weird. And then, like a switch flipped, something just… shifted.

You didn’t even realize it at first. It wasn’t dramatic. It was more like a flicker- like your brain glitched for half a second and then forgot how to come back online properly.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And just like that, you didn’t feel okay anymore.

You walk over to the stove and try to shake it off and just stir the noodles but your chest got tight- not in a gasping-for-air way, but in a quiet, creeping kind of way, like you were breathing through a straw you didn’t ask for.

There was no reason. No trigger. No “oh yeah, I was stressed about this.” It was just your body betraying you out of nowhere. Like, cool, thanks for that.

You tried to ignore it. Kept stirring. Glanced at Chris who was still cutting up veggies, totally unaware of the war starting inside your chest.

You told yourself, Don’t make it a big deal. Just breathe. You’re fine. You’re fine.

But that didn’t work. Your vision started to go fuzzy at the edges, not black, just… weird.

Like the room was too sharp and too blurry at the same time. The lights felt brighter. The air felt heavier.

You realized your jaw was clenched, your shoulders tensed like you were bracing for something, but there was nothing there.

You lean over the counter again now bringing a hand to your chest trying to calm yourself down- to no use at all.

You blinked another time, it felt kinda slow cus I’m the next moment Chris was standing next to you putting a hand on your back.

„Hey…? You there? Everything fine?“

He looks at your now rather pale face as you look up at him.

„Y-yeah…., no? I don’t know, Chris something doesn’t feel right“

He looks at you for a second before speaking up again but by now you can’t understand him anymore, like your ears just put a filter over everything he said.

He grabs you by your shoulders to make you look at him but everything he says just goes right through you.

The only thing your head is your heavy breathing, your heart pounding, every milliliter of blood that’s going through your body.

You blink slowly trying to take in what Chris is saying or doing but as you open your eyes again you’re already sitting on the floor.

Knees tight to your chest and arms around them with Chris kneeling beside you.

You try to focus on anything just anything.

Every muscle in your body is numb.

All of the sudden Chris picked you up and placed you onto the couch kneeling down infront of you again.

You snap out of whatever that is and hear him talk again.

„Hey you gotta say here, I’ll not have you pass out okay? We’re not doing shit like that.“

You try to nod but it feels like your muscles aren’t connected with your brain anymore. Your breathing still as quick as 5…10…30? Minutes ago.

„I can’t- fucking shit I can’t do this I need to get outa here Chris“

You stutter, not being able to get out a clear sentence. But you don’t have to say more.

He picks you up and with you, bridal style, in his arms opens the door to the balcony and sets you down again.

The cold night air hit your skin, sharp and sudden, but it didn’t help the way you thought it would.

Your fingers gripped the railing, knuckles white, because if you let go, you weren’t sure what would happen.

You hold onto the railing, your knuckles turning while and your hands freezing but everything’s still as numb.

Everything was too loud, even though it was technically quiet. The distant cars, the wind moving the trees, the creak of the balcony- every sound stabbed into your brain like it didn’t belong there. Like you were hearing the world from underwater, but it was still somehow too much.

You hated how your heart wouldn’t slow down. How it slammed against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You tried taking a deep breath, like people say to do, but it got caught halfway in your throat and stayed there, sharp and stuck. You swallowed hard. It didn’t help.

Your skin felt wrong. Not just cold, but crawling. Like something invisible was brushing over you, and you couldn’t make it stop. You rubbed your arms, wrapped them tight around yourself, tried grounding yourself.

What’s happening to me? Why now? I want this to stop. I want to go home-

Even though you were home. That didn’t matter. Nothing felt safe, even here. Not even in your own body.

You paced a few steps, stopped. The ground felt unstable, even though it wasn’t moving. Your heart stuttered, and for a second you thought- am I gonna pass out? Am I dying? And that thought just made it worse. You hated how ridiculous it sounded but also how real it felt.

You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or throw up. Or maybe just not exist for a little while.

But instead, you stood there. Shaking. Breathing wrong. Feeling trapped in your skin while the world stayed quiet and normal and completely unaware that everything inside you was falling apart.

Chris just stood there watching you, hoping that bringing you outside would help.

„Better?“

He asks a few minutes later.

You turn around, tears flowing over your face as you finally speak up.

„Everything just feels wrong, I don’t know what it is but it’s just wrong, something’s off. But I don’t fucking know what it is-“

You can’t even find the words to describe what or how you’re feeling but he gets it.

He knows what you mean.

He knows how you feel.

He walks over to you as you throw your hands around in the air trying to find an explanation for something you don’t even know what it is.

He stands right in front of you as he wraps his arms around you.

Just holding you.

Not moving.

Not saying anything.

Just in this moment.

Holding you so tight and close that it feels like he’s protecting you from everything bad out there or inside of you…

ᴀ/ɴ// ᴜᴍᴍ ɪꜱ ᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘᴇ? ᴜᴍᴍ ʏᴇᴀʜ ɪᴅᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅᴏ ɪ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴇᴀʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ x ☘︎

[kourt-jester]

JAXX!!!! The plushie is the last thing his mom gave him b4 she was killed. He keeps it as a good luck charm and as a form of comfort. He mends it whenever damage is done to it and will hide it when around people he doesn't trust due to a lot of trauma that has happened. (idk why its so low quality btw)