#GOD i am so EMO about these two

[aceofwonders]

realizing that rhydian’s last convo with his dad was probably that classic “i’m not mad i’m just disappointed” dad thing and im SCREAMING

[yardsards]

yall i am not fucking ready for the nightmare chapter to make it into the anime

[balladetto]

reasons to cup a face / always accepting / @gloryseized ( Shion )

GROUND, during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again.

     It happens in snapshot moments.

     As he registers the feel of a palm between his fingers, somehow heaving against him without toppling him over, Kane opens his eyes. He blinks — blinks again, and the inside of the Temple of Time comes into focus: a muted colour to the light that pours in through its stained glass windows as if the very air has mildewed. There's a silence here that unnerves him. He realises, at once, three things.

     Kane is in a body he does not recognise but knows, deep down, is his.

     He is holding onto someone he does not recognise but knows, deeper down, is his brother.

     This is a Dream. Which is different from a dream, 'cause this is the type — the only type — he can still vividly recall after waking, like echoes bleeding into reality. He's been getting these recently.

     Almost as though he's been waiting for these things to connect, the likeness of Shion wrests his hand from Kane's. He steps away. He's— so tall like this, figure looming, shadows on his face that can't be cut through, but so is Kane; so is the form he's been warped into, and they are two brothers divided by a space that shouldn't be making his breath quicken so hard.

     "I promise," Shion's image signs, a bold declaration with bold movements, and Kane — for the same reason he knows without recognising — wants to scream at him. What are you promising? Do you have any idea? You can't promise me something like that. You can't promise me something you've already broken!

     Don't leave me!

     The quiet stretches. He can't move. He's stuck in a moment he doesn't know how to break out of, hand vainly outstretched and wide eyes pinned on a face he can't see. His skin feels one touch removed from splitting apart the way his heart feels one nudge off from falling over the precipice of some knife's edge, yet he aches anyway, willing to be ripped open if it means his brother will be there.

     His brother will not be there.

     Kane watches in helpless horror as Shion turns, boots tapping out a decisive farewell march. He's distantly aware of the little light following after him — Navi, it takes a second to place, blue and a perfect fit and so out of place at the same time. They're going ahead without him, approaching the pedestal made for the sword on Shion's back, and Kane is struck with such a sudden desperation that his body, frozen as it is, trembles. Convulses.

     Stop, he can't cry. Don't leave me, he can't plead. It's only when his brother raises the Master Sword high, about to return it to its resting place, that the stone Kane's trapped in releases him. He stumbles forward — forces himself to keep stumbling forward, throat strained raw as he calls for his brother, but he can tell— he's too late. He's too late. The Dream stills, suspended on knowledge he can't look away from—

     Kane wakes up to arms binding his hands to his sternum and a hot face pressed into the back of his neck.

     For a second, the change thoroughly dazes him. He blinks, capturing nothing, and in its span: the world rearranges itself. Pain flares from his chest, throbbing in time with the harsh, too-fast breaths strangling him. The night is lit by firelight, casting a dim glow over cave walls and along the things in a campsite for two travellers. With how sticky his nose and cheeks and eyes feel, he thinks he's probably been crying. His brother is here.

     His brother is here.

     "Shh-ii—" he starts, and finds he won't complete the name.

     Shion jerks against his side, inhaling so sharply it sounds like it'd hurt before hurriedly pulling away from where he's curled around Kane. The motion has him nauseous with a fear carried over, snatching at a forearm the right size with hands the right size, but his brother isn't— isn't going away. He moves until they're facing each other, gaze searching for Kane's. This up close, he can trace every contour. He can delineate every crease, put an emotion to every feature — helped by a nearby fairy's shine. Yellow. Tatl.

     He— lets go. "Shion," he shakily, unnecessarily, forms with his hands. It's too cramped for brother to be signed well, so he repeats it again, and again, and again. The shape falls apart further each time, until it's little more than his left hand knocking atop his right.

     Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. If he could carve this into his skin so Shion can see and understand it when his voice and fingers are as useless as they are now, he would. And maybe some part of him really tried, maybe that's what the twinges running along the lengths of his arms are, but— his brother has never needed Kane's words to know what to do.

     Shion holds him gently. Carefully, palm and fingertips assured in their own tenderness. He presses a different message into the skin of his cheeks, the answer to all that goes unsaid but not unrealised.

     Don't leave me, Kane begs with a bitten lip, heaving shoulders, and a weird, awful certainty that he'll be ignored.

     I'm here, Shion swears with circling thumbs, eyes that reflect his twin's pain, and a steady, near irremovable warmth.

     Kane's voice trips over an ugly sob. He pushes his hands over his brother's, drinking in the touch with an overwrought exhaustion, and tries to match his breathing to the slow cadence of that terribly profuse love.

     ( What a strange Dream, he will later think as they drift back to sleep. A strange fear, he will correct, squeezing-hand-in-squeezing-hand. Shion would never leave him. )

[evandorepart2]

ok anyway im leaving in. the day after tomorrow at like 2am so im just saying its tomorrow cause im literally just gonna stay up till then theres no point in sleeping. BUT two things. one i need to finish packing. my clothes are dry so i just have to bring them upstairs and pack. sort of stressed out bc like. i like my outfit i dont want to change it but everyones telling me its too hot for a leather jacket like i know!!!! but its my jacket :(

anyway i just have to do that so ill do it now and then…on top of that i wanted to get the draft for my ghost story done but i havent been working on it at all >_< ive just been reading comics the past couple days. so tomorrow. for sure. i will definitely work in getting the draft done totally.

but ugh im kind of nervous i havent seen these people in so long and im not great socially. also i dont go on trips in general so like. i hope i have energy for a full month yknow. i have a tendency of isolating myself when im stressed out but i dont have any space to do that…not that i should but whatever you know

[bamsara]

trod au ramble u can ignore

when i say slowburn in an enemies to friends to lovers for Trod I mean slowburn. 300k before Narinder even openly admits he cares for the Lamb, and Lamb actually opens up more than just a shield of positivity and another 100k of character growth, drama, complicated intricacies of grief and anger to communication. The Lamb has boundaries and sticks by them constantly in trod, they're not a pushover, but they don't blow up and react in explosive anger the same way that Narinder does and they are mistaken for soft by him for it, when it's him having to be the one who is constantly re-evaluating his priorities and his behavior because the lamb isn't taking shit from him, despite patience and love, and he's put in this position where he's allowing the grief and the hurt to keep hurting himself and the Lamb in the process, until he risks losing them and Narinder makes the active decision to work on himself. They HAD a healthy, wonderful friendship before, he cared for them. He still does. He wishes he didn't but god he still does.

but i dislike when characters do one change or have one realization and suddenly they're super nice. no I want them to be continuously complex. I want their bad habits and miscommunication to not instantly or quickly disappear, I want continuous effort from the wronger. do you hear me. CONTINUOUS EFFORT. that means a character fucking up again and again and relasping and changing and cursing and being like well he doesn't need to be any different because its not his fault then going back and being like. no. it was my fault. i am wronged and I am the wronger. i need complexities. Let us not forget the definition of 'enemy' in the enemies to friends to lovers here. if they start off soft then where is the growth. Where is the room for growth I want. Where is it.

they get to the processing of emotions they haven't allowed themselves to feel properly for centuries to take this friendship gone sour by betrayal, plagued by anger and hurt to something slowly blooming back into trust and care and soft until eventually its this healthy love of these uberly overpowered pair of gods

Trod bad end is when Narinder just speed runs the 'rehabilitation' part of the rehabilitation of death' and it circles back to him going feral in the head. Still an asshole? okay your lamb is gone. regret your pride and ego because the patient love you were afforded is gone forever and the last memory you gave them was not the love you could have given them but it will be the love that destroys mortality to get them back.

amnesia au Narinder is just happy to be here. no betrayal, no angst. eventually when his memory does return and he gets caught pretending he doesn't remember just so he can be sweet to them without his pride in the way will force a conversation that will essentially fix the horrific communication these two have. speedrun trod x2

Current Trod Narinder is a emo angsty bastard who's rightfully hurt at being imprisoned and (in his heart) betrayed by someone he trusted dearly (again) while Post-Trod Narinder is still a feral bastard but with truly un-constipated, true equal love for the Lamb that wears a wedding ring made of his own blood to the tune of 'i miss my wife tails' and got a praise kink

but if its not absolute hell getting to that point then WHAT IS THE POINT

and all these are mostly about Narinder but don't even get me started on the Lamb's issues. That sheep thang is hiding shit.

Except I can't talk about the Lamb's hiding issues Too Much yet unless you've been in my art streams and have seen some of my comics, then IYKYK but aaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHG

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch Ⅰ (Regina George x Reader)

Summary: You, a self-proclaimed loser, are going into Junior year with one goal in mind: Avoid Regina George. Nobody notices you, so it shouldn't be too hard…right?

✮✮✮

Light seeps through the blinds and birds start to make themselves known with their melodic chirps. Aggressive rustling can be heard from outside your door as you throw a mini tantrum on your, now ruffled up, sheets. Sleepless nights weren't new to you, but they don't get any less frustrating. You stare at the ceiling for a good 30 seconds before finally pushing yourself off your bed. Walking to turn off the air conditioning, you trip over god-knows what and fall flat on your face. The first day of junior year and you're already contemplating ending it all, on the floor of your dump of a bedroom, laying next to a-

"My mascara!", you exclaimed as you sat up. You lost that thing ages ago. You get up, taking the mascara with you and make your way into the bathroom. Becoming a junior wasn't anything you cared for. After sophomore year, the illusion of high school you created in your head had melted away, leaving behind a hollow teenage girl that just wanted to get it over and done with.

Putting away your mascara, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mirror. A bed-head ridden girl with deep eye bags, which only seem to become more obvious with each passing day, stares back at you. "God, I look horrific," you thought out loud. A habit, in hindsight, you needed to rid yourself of. Going through your morning routine, you think about the coming school year. 11th grade! Will this be the year you reinvent yourself? You could completely change yourself; The way you walk, talk, act, and dress!

...

Who are you kidding.

After successfully poking your eye with your eyeliner three times, you're done. You peak your head out your bathroom door, glancing at the cat-themed clock you've had since you were a baby. It's 8 am. Classes start at 8:15. Curses fall out of your mouth. Did time warp halfway through your routine or something? Running out of the bathroom you quickly change into your clothes, a worn out band T-shirt and black cargos. You can hear your mother cursing at you from downstairs as you make your way out your room. "You're going to be late on your first day, seriously?" Your mom deadpans as you reach the bottom of the stairs. "Whatever, mom, they don't even care."

Walking to school instead of letting your mother drive you was probably not the best idea, but you're too far from the house to care right now. You turn the final corner and arrive at your final location, North Shore High School. Approaching the doors, you can already make out two students face-mashing each other through the window.

✮✮✮

You've been a student at North Shore since freshman year, but anyone could mistake you for a new student, if they even noticed you that is. You pride yourself in being able to blend in with the crowd. This school was filled with losers, so you fit right in. They had already been assigned, so you made your way through the various cliques grouped up in the hallways and to your locker. As much as you hated this place, it's what you're used to. You'd have a hard time adjusting to a new high school, at least at this one you knew who to avoid. You don't even think about it anymore since you don't run into them much- nevermind. "Watch it, freak!"

Great, of anyone you could've bumped into, it's the queen bitch, Regina George. "Whatever." you mumbled and began to walk away when you were pulled back by your bag and shoved back into the lockers...hard. "This is the part where you apologize, Gerard Way." she spits at you while holding the straps of your backpack. A bit of black eyeliner and suddenly you're emo at this school. She was a couple inches taller than you, making it all the more embarrassing, looking up at her. Wriggling around proves unsuccessful. Is there a gym-bro buried beneath her layers of pink and pretty or something? Getting out of her grip doesn't seem like a possibility, so you begrudgingly mumble out a "Sorry..."

She stares at you for a few seconds too long.

"Uhm...can I go now?" You ask. "Yeah uh, sure, whatever." She finally lets you go and storms away towards her group of all-mighty "biatches", or "Plastics" as some (mainly Damien and Janis) call them.

So much for not being noticed.

✮✮✮

A/N: this is my first time writing, so any constructive criticism would be great! forgive any awkward wording or corny-ness. There are more chapters up on my wattpad and ao3, same username for both. @ziggyzolch

[santrrl]

Logan Howlett with Metalhead!reader, face piercings, tattoos, dark clothes - the whole get up.

i need grumpy x sunshine too, like reader actually being a cute little thing :')

L.H X METAL!HEAD READER

Author says; Thank you so much for your request!! I love doing them,l so this is gonna be the first of a few hopefully !<3 I LOVE this idea, and thus this is gonna be so fun to write !! HEHEHEHEH

The first and second part are split between bullet points, and then the actual story so i hope i got this right!! I'm so sorry if I didn't as i have only seen few x-men and dp+w, so i apologise if it's not good!!

BULLETS :

-Once he meets you at first he physically stops. Like, physically, shuts down for a moment.

-Bro was born in 1832, and somehow, this was his first time seeing so much piercings in so many...visible places. He was fine with ears, as long as it wasn't too bad, but more than three? He's gonna shake his head like a dad and shrug it off.

-At first he would probably think you're some emo, hormonal meanie, so when he finally takes a jab at you, he stops dead AGAIN. You? You wearing layer after layer of black n white are more energetic than he thought? What?

-at some point during your years of knowing each other, of course youre gonna be in his contacts. He never saw ':3' before, but..you learn something new every day.

-The first time he sees so many tats on one limb, he doesn't know whether to be amazed or turned on. So he opted for both.

-"Hey, you okay?" He'd smell the freshness of your new tats, and always find a way to let them be a excuse for him to talk to you.

-You look so....different, so mean, yet, you're so nice? He couldn't understand it. He loved being mean to the people that deserved it, why you felt bad and guilty? Over his head. But the pure fact you looked like a meanie, but weren't? God he wanted to destroy you.

FIC; (Kinda? Im so sorry if its bad, not correlating to the above)

"Welcome to Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. I am Charles, by the way." The man in front of you would grin, opening the doors to the busy entrance. Some students were walking, others chatting and others were showing off their mutations.

"This is where you'll be spending, ah, the majority of your time." Charles grinned, snatching a paper plane out of the air. "Easy, Rodger." He smiled at the boy, who flushed red. As quickly as he turned red, he also turned as white as your eye shadow. And blush. And everything else that you had on that was white currently.

He quickly scurried off, whispering to his friends. "They'll get used to you in time. They think you're cool." Charles chuckled. As you made your way through the tour of the school, you eventually landed back to where you had started. "Any questions?" Charles asked innocently.

"I got one. The fuck Casper the ghost doin' here?" A gruff voice perked up, as I looked behind Charles. The man coming down the stairs practically had a halo on him with the way he had descended the staircase, white wife beater stained from God only knows what.

"Logan." Charles warned. "This is Logan, Logan, this is our newest addition." He introduced. "Keep this one away from magneto, all those piercings." He grimaced. "Oh, my god hi! I've seen so much of you! You're so cool my family adores you so much-"

Logan was confused. He didn't know what to be more confused about, the fact you looked so mean but were sweet, or the fact your rambling went on for eighteen minutes. He wasn't mad about it though. If anything it was...pleasant?

After a few days at the mansion, seeing what you could do, you ironically became quick friends with the rugged man. Even people who had never seen him smile were asking you what it was like. The press had deemed you two - 'Bumblebee team.' Mainly due to your black attire, and his majority yellow view.

And also because it sounded like grumble and hee, implying his grumpy nature and your happy outlook. The media seemed to love you more than hate you however, the nickname ghost, and vampire among others being thrown around, alongside your chosen name.

It only took a few months before the man found himself being more attached. Demanding he be with you on missions, protecting you at all cost, it only took so much in him to not flip you under him when he saw how truly tatted up you were, when after a fight majority of your costume had ripped.

He even went to such lengths as waiting for you every morning to walk you to breakfast, lunch, whatever. "Bub can't the makeup wait?'' He'd sigh, before turning around, already knowing he wasn't winning this fight as your music played in the background, drowning out the sound of a shoe hitting him.

Eventually, he got so fed up of waiting at one point, he just leaned over your desk, and wiped your lips with his thumb, before kissing you and walking away, obviously making you follow. "Just a way to make you hurry up." He'd laugh. LIES.

Those kisses eventually led to heated makeouts, and safe to say, you'd be fixing your makeup more than a few times a day.

IM SO SORRY IF ITS BAD LEMME KNOW AND ILL REWRITE <33

[freyito]

can you write something on how the Lin Keui trio would react to their s/o who can't handle the cold as well as them?

tis the season or something guys! but it's been snowing for two days and guyys oh my GOD i love the snow so much. i love christmas season so much, actually. im like emo or something but i dont care i love christmas season !!! its funny cause i dont celebrate christmas LMFAO. I ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING PLANNED OUT SO JUST YOU WAIT!!! also given the release of the new season i think i am riiiiiight on time, readers.

cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴡ/ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴ ᴋᴜᴇɪ ᴛʀɪᴏ

Bi-Han...

takes note of your shivering right away. He scoffs a little, then wraps an arm around you. It'd be cute! IF IT HELPED.

He's fucking FREEZING. It takes him a moment to remember that he's naturally cold.

After that, he apologizes quickly, and wastes no time getting you a jacket. And some blankets. A lot of blankets, actually. He gets you some scalding hot tea, too. Let it cool down a bit. Please.

Bi-Han's only a little bit prickly about the fact that you're a bit more susceptible to the cold. Considering he's a CRYOmancer, the cold is like a lifestyle for him. But he forgives you.

Aside from a little panting though, he actually cuddles up to you. If you two are in private and he knows no one will interrupt you two. He finds it hard to swallow his pride. But he won't let you freeze.

Kuai Liang...

is already glued to your side. So it's pretty hard to be cold around him. He's like a walking space heater. And it can only get better.

He'll pull you in close, reaaaal close, and just keep you there. Cling to him, he begs. Seriously. There's no need for jackets or blankets with him. Maybe some tea.

He'll even gradually increase the temperature around you two, like a testament to his love. He actually gets kinda defensive if you still need gloves or something.

Speaking of gloves, Kuai Liang LOVES holding your hands in his hands. Not just like holding hands, but cupping his hands around yours.

Anywhere, he's holding you close to keep you warm. Show you off a little, while he's at it. He especially loves it when your clinging to his arm.

Tomas Vrbada...

actually worries himself sick over you. So when he catches you shivering, even if it's just for a second, he's already all over you.

He's got a surprisingly warm body temperature! Unfortunately he cannot heat up anymore, so he's got like a whole checklist on what to get you. Especially on particularly cold days.

Blankets first. He actually kinda forces you inside. But for good reason. He's got like 17 different blankets picked out for you. He's also got some hot cocoa for you, as well.

And if you don't want to stay inside? He has you put on some gloves. Shoves two more pairs in your coat's pocket as well. Like he makes sure you have more than enough layers.

But Tomas does it all out of love! He's kind of a worrywart over you, he can't help but be protective over... literally everything!

Rest assured, you won't be cold around him. Like he really doesn't want you to be. Any little slip, a soft chatter of your teeth, and he's freaking out!!!

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Out Of Context Shit Heard On The SOLDIER Floor #6

Previous: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5

Angeal: No, Genesis, you spaghetti-noodle-spine-having-ass bitch.

Sephiroth: I identify as a tonberry *chases Cloud with a kitchen knife*

Zack: Ra Ra Rasputin *kicks Sephiroth over*

Genesis: Unhand me you cretin *alone, talking to no one*

Angeal: Zack just showed me a picture of the Grinch and said "hear me out"

Lazard: No, Sephiroth, you cannot have a human-sized cat bed in your office "for enrichment"

Cloud: Parkour time *crashes through the air vents*

Sephiroth: I'm the biggest lesbian ally in this department, actually.

Angeal: For the sake of my sanity I'm gonna pretend I didn't just see Zack twerking to One Winged Angel.

Luxiere: I would commit unspeakable atrocities for a crumb of Zack's attention.

Lazard: That stripper pole better be gone when I get back or so help me, Genesis, I will return you to the goddess.

Sephiroth: *does a single pump of sore throat spray* This is enough for sustenance for the day.

Kunsel: Care for a deep-fried cigarette?

Angeal: You look like an AI-generated twink.

Sephiroth: I've grown so tired of Genesis's voice that we now communicate solely through interpretive dance.

Lazard, over the speakers: Whoever heated fish in the break room microwave, please come by my office so I can break your knees.

Zack: Aww, I forgot to feed the Roomba :(

Genesis: I don't know why me and Angeal are being judged. Simulating a birth with a watermelon is a perfectly normal activity for two people.

Kunsel: Hopefully this office party won't end in accidental weed use.

Angeal: WHY IS THERE A FAMILY OF RACCOONS IN THE TRAINING ROOM?

Genesis: I noticed some homosexual subtext in your screams, do you want to talk about that?

Angeal: *sniff sniff* Ooh~ who's barbecuing? OH MY GOD IT'S AN ELECTRIC FIRE.

Roche: Every time I think about chopping my hair short I think "Sephiroth wouldn't want this for me" and the feeling is gone.

Genesis: I made a friend *drags in a skeleton with a Sephiroth wig*

Cloud: *points at Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth* Pure of heart, dumb of ass, big of tit.

Lazard: I told Zack to use Excel and he started sobbing.

Angeal: WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST SEASONING YOUR GROUND BEEF?

Sephiroth: It's extremely rude to ask someone why they're eating a salad bowl of udon at 8 AM. Mind your business, Zack.

Cloud: Genesis likes Loveless so much because the title resonates with his love life.

Zack: You keep your anxiety pills in a takeaway to-go box? Dude that's so fancy.

Lazard: Why is Sephiroth the only one wearing a shirt??

Angeal: Common sense has chased Zack all his life but he wears wheelies so he's faster

Sephiroth: I personally don't use the peace sign because I haven't had a day of peace since I was 12.

Kunsel: I'm never going out in public with Zack again. A child's balloon popped when it went near his hair.

Angeal: No I'm not giving you an aspirin. Last time I gave you one you crushed it and snorted it like cocaine.

Lazard: An overwhelming majority of you peaked in kindergarten.

Sephiroth: Zack, I'm becoming increasingly concerned by the amount of potatoes in your pants right now.

Zack: This year I want an A/B/O themed birthday party.

Sephiroth: Please don't commit tax fraud, Genesis. You won't thrive in prison.

Genesis: Does anyone have an extra ramen packet to give Sephiroth? The 64 he consumed this morning weren't enough.

Roche: Commander Rhapsodos and his emo fringe is our culture.

Zack: I'm at my fucking limit! I'm about to eat a vegetable!

Genesis: He's a son of a bitch Sephiroth: That implies he has a mother, so I don't see how that's an insult.

Zack: Fuck around and find out *said with a chunk of Genesis' red coat hanging from his pocket*

Cloud: Does anyone have an extra brain cell? I lost my remaining one when Genesis spoke to me this morning.

Sephiroth: Damn.

Kunsel: Zack owes me so much money that if he sold his box of random shit he stole from Angeal, he still couldn't pay me back.

Angeal: Why are you guys playing Queen's Blood in the closet? is this a metaphor?

Genesis: Have you prayed to your Sephiroth cardboard cutout yet today?

Sephiroth: Alert me once Rufus Shinra arrives so that I may greet him adequately *said while building a pipe bomb*

Lazard: It's all fun and games until the timeout cage that I ordered online arrives.

Genesis: I will atone for my sins by becoming a nuisance to the environment.

Cloud: If Zack were a scented candle he'd smell like ADHD and crayons.

Sephiroth, standing on a table: DO NOT. EAT. THE CHEESECAKE. IN THE FRIDGE. It's mine.

Angeal: *with a bucket while it's raining hale* Free ice baby.

Zack: I finally have enough gil to buy a sixteen bouncy castles.

Genesis: Being overcome with the desire to eat pasta and call your mother at 2 AM and wondering if you're having a mental breakdown or are possessed by Sephiroth.

Lazard: I can't fire any of you, but I'm about to start setting things on fire.

[deutsche-bahn]

Es ist Januar, ich bin Neunzehn und in den Niederlanden auf irgendeiner Party. In fünf Stunden muss ich bei meinem Nebenjob im Nachbarland sein. Eigentlich kenne ich hier kaum jemanden. Aus extrovertierter Verzweiflung drehe ich mich zu dem Typen neben mir um, der gerade vom Rauchen zurückgekommen ist. "So, what do you do, anyways?" frage ich ihn. Ich weiß selber nicht wonach ich mit der Formulierung gerade genau frage. Seinem Blick nach weiß er es auch nicht. "Well," sagt er und lehnt sich nach vorne, "I work in finance".

Ich habe Fluchtgedanken. Vielleicht sollte ich mich spontan outen um ihn mit dieser rhetorischen Rauchgranate von einem Statement von seinem Beruf abzulenken. Zu spät, er setzt zum reden an. Ich stelle mich mental auf die langweiligsten zehn Minuten meines Lebens ein. "Cool. What sort of finance?" frage ich, aus resignierter, masochistischer Höflichkeit.

"Terrorism financing" antwortet er. Ich reagiere souverän und geistesgegenwärtig mit "Hm??". Bin kurz davon überzeugt dass vor mir der Geldgeber irgendwelcher obskuren Splitterzelle für und/oder gegen holländische Unabhängigkeit sitzt. "No, we're against it" fügt er hinzu. Das Erklärungsniveau, Wir sind dagegen, hat er mir zuliebe scheinbar schon auf Sendung mit der Maus-levels runtergeschraubt. Wie nett von ihm. "So, how about you?". Ich bin gerade gesprächstechnisch außer Gefecht gesetzt und muss kurz verarbeiten, dass es Sachbearbeiter für Terrorismusfinanzierung-oder eben gegen Terrorismusfinanzierung, oder was auch immer man heute im VWL-Studium lernt- gibt. Er sieht mir mit Engelsgeduld zu, während ich ihn gefühlte drei Minuten leicht irritiert anstarre.

Oh, right, er hat mich ja nach meinem Beruf gefragt. Meine Englischkenntnisse verlassen mich augenblicklich, ich komme mir hilfloser vor als in der mündlichen Spanischprüfung in der selbst meine Lehrerin zu lachen anfing. "I, uh, I build signs" erkläre ich. Cool, thrilling, tell me more. Schilder. "It's actually really interesting" füge ich hinzu, mit dem leeren Blick von jemandem der seit dem Mauerfall Druckerpapier verkauft. "Cool, no, really!" er nickt enthusiastisch. Ich möchte mich irgendwie rausreden, das Gespräch ungern so verenden lassen, und versuche, dem irgendwie eine kleine, lustige Anekdote aus meinem Berufsleben anzuhängen: "Yknow, one time my coworkers duct taped me to an office chair and left me outside". Er sieht weder interessiert noch unterhalten aus. Eher unendlich besorgt. Großartig. Hast du toll gemacht, willst du ihm als nächstes erzählen dass deine Kollegen dich nachts an die Heizung ketten? Ich habe ein undefinierbares Gefühl des Scheiterns, keine Ahnung, woran genau, aber ich scheitere gerade definitiv.

Wir werden unterbrochen. thank god. Jemand wirbelt durch den Raum und wirft sich auf den freien Hocker zwischen uns. Es ist das Polykül, im midwest emo style Strickpulli, mit Portweinglas in der Hand. "Glad you two are getting along! What were you talking about, just now?" Der Finanzler und ich wechseln einen Blick. "Terrorism", sage ich. Höfliches Lachen seitens des Finanzlers, schmerzverzerrtes Grimassieren meinerseits. Das Polykül wirkt just happy to be here. Der Finanzler bietet währenddessen Antwortmöglichkeit B an: "He was, ah, telling me a story about his work, actually!". Das Polykül rotiert auf dem Hocker zu mir herum. "Oooh, really?" In mir erwachen die prähistorischen Fluchtinstinkte eines längst ausgestorbenen Homo Habilis, der einen lauernden Säbelzahntiger, oder lächerlicher, einen lauernden Terrorvogel wittert und sich am liebsten auf den nächstbesten Baum retten möchte. Ich überwinde meinen inneren Homo Habilis und grinse. "Are you a good storyteller?" fragt das Polykül. Die Frage hat den Tonfall, mit dem man einen Hund fragt, ob er ein guter Junge ist (nicht, dass ich Erfahrung damit hätte). "I hope so" sage ich. Es ist das erste Mal, dass ich den Finanzler ehrlich lachen höre. Das Polykül ignoriert ihn. "Oh, you're perfect" heißt es. "You like history, and you're a storyteller, if you were more of a man I'd be so into you". Die Aussage wird durch weiteres Herumgefuchtel mit dem Portwein unterstrichen. Ich kippe fast vom Stuhl. Aus der Bluetoothbox klingt "Waterloo" von Abba. Ich beschließe, bei der nächstmöglichen Gelegenheit auf einem Walfangschiff anzuheuern und nie wieder mit irgendjemandem zu reden.

[prettyboypistol]

Stardew Valley Bachelors x Male Reader Relationship Headcanons

Harvey

Super Shy Gay(TM)

I dont CARE if you're married he ASKS TO HOLD YOUR HAND

Kiss him. Kiss him in public. Do it.

If you call him gay he'll get flustered

Can't cook for shit but tries his best. yes, the smoke alarms are going off because he tried to cook bacon.

Harvey is one of those anxious boyfriends that asks you to text him that you made it to a place safe.

"Drive safe, I love you"/"Dear it's been 10 minutes since the ETA are you alright?" hella ass

probably forgets your anniversary ONCE, but then never again when you tell him you were upset.

Elliot

you know the men that forget your anniversary? NOT ANYMORE

you randomly come home to roses all the time.

"Oh hello my love i am writing a book about homosexual pirates wear this to immerse me please"

probably hides gifts around the house with little notes

bad at confrontation but will eventually talk to you about things that bother him like a week of letting it fester.

"BABY CAN WE PLEASE GO TO THE RENAISSANCE FAIR"

Dramatic ass bitch on GOD

probably likes to be choked

Shane

Calls you gay slurs affectionately and expects the same energy back at him.

He can cook like, 2 meal.

Remembers every little anniversary but is embarrassed about it. He remembers the first time you kissed, the first time you said i love you, etc.

Biggest cuddlebug known to man

Feels bad that you're the main breadwinner so he begs to take care of the chickens on your farm.

You WILL find Shane asleep with a baby chick in his arms sometimes i'm sorry homie

Confrontational af, if something happens that he isn't okay with he'll bring it up as soon as situationally possible in a kind way.

Sam

writes you love songs

he's a bit of a messy partner, but if you mention the mess it'll be spotless for like, 3 weeks.

if you get in a fight he'll brood outside with his guitar for a little, but will always get into bed with you at the end of the day happily.

loves surprises and surprising

he's all great when it's casual flirting, but as soon as you two start seriously flirting he gets all flustered.

bi-curious, you're probably the first man he's dated but not the first man he's kissed.

loves to binge TV shows with you

Sebastian

pan ICON

he thinks you're too cool for him, but he is grateful that you enthusiastically love him

calls you a hillbilly if you call him emo

if you ask about a project he's working on he WILL talk for hours

Falls asleep at his desk a lot, but appreciates when you carry him to bed

he loves when you talk to him "while he's sleeping"

Lets you ride with him to TechCons or Comicons, loves going as couple characters

you get invited to the Dungeons and Dragons campaign

likes calling you his boyfriend

Alex

picks you up and does reps with you to flirt

he loves touching your body after a long day of farming, the tan fascinates him.

a surprisingly great cook, always knows what you wanna eat without asking.

has never even looked at a man before you came along, so he's kinda awkward about serious romantic things

bad at confrontation, but great at supporting you

he calls you very masculine things like "superman" or "my man" a lot

Defends Dusty when he steals your spot on the bed, but offers his chest as a substitute.

[tobbotobbs]

what about cod men with reader who BLASTS music like ayesha erotica, nikki minaj and etc randomly while chilling or has headphones and does that while on field

Ohhhh I think they would probably be all so confused or worried if it happened in the middle of a mission lol, here my thoughts to that scenario:

When Ghost heard you playing Nasty from Ayesha for the first time on the middle of interrogating someone they captured and kept alive on their mission, he was very irritated. Soap tried to get the new, right information out of the soldier meanwhile you two and Gaz stood in the darker corner, staring at the horrified man as you quietly sang the lines of the song playing over your headset.

,,Damn I'm sorry I blew you off, I was doing lunch with Microsoft. I'm sucking off a C.E.O, if he's not a millionaire then I've got to go~"

,,What the hell?! Y/n quit that singing! What even is that?", Ghost looked disgusted at you, questioning why he was even befriended with you in first place but quick to remember that you're actually his favorite person on earth, except for when you were listening to sich filth. In the middle of a mission. He quickly became used to it though, just told you once in a while to keep it down or put the music off if the operation was in need of your attention. He didn't enjoy the music as it was, the text too vulgar and flithy for his liking, but he couldn't deny that the melodies of some of your songs were quite catchy sometimes. Of course he grew even more annoyed when you and Gaz would play songs together on base and Soap would jump in on it with his ugly singing.

He didn't knew you were listening to that kind of music. He sometimes heard you playing some songs as loud as you could in your room, but he never understood a thing of what was sang and your door was always locked, as if to keep people out from seeing you dance some kind of risky dance to this music. Oh boy, if he knew.

Emo Boy was suddenly playing. It scared the shit out if Soap, Kyle and yourself even though it was your ringtone.

,,Oh shit! Sorry guys, Mama's calling. Don't wait for me with the movie!", you were smiling at them and quickly picking up and talking to your mum over the phone.

,,Was that-", ,,Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica?", ,,Oh. My. God. I heard that right?!!?", ,,Yeah...I didn't know Y/n would listen to that type of music Soap!", ,,Me neither Gaz...it's a catchy song though", ,,Oh it really is. Probably why he chose it?", ,,Yeah...you think he's also into other songs of that genre?", ,,Maybe. Are you?", ,,Oh hell nuh. Not me, no no".

Gaz raises a brow at that and smirks. Then they both start laughing. ,,Oh you are so listening to this kind of music man!", ,,Pah, and if I am? You knew the song by name and artist by just a few seconds of melody playing!", ,,Ah yeah you got me there mate heh"

,,Alright guys, I'm back! Let's start this movie night shall we?", you grinned and sat next to Kyle again, who just smiled at you and nodded, reaching for the remote control. ,,Tell me, is that the music you alway listen and dance to in your room?", ,,Uhm yeah, whx Kyle?", ,,...Wanna show me one of those dances someday?", he grinned suggestively and you just giggled at that.

Oh this man showed you this tyoe of music, actually. He was playing some song from Doja Cat on the radio of the car from his so nicely called "Hype or Horn Me Up" playlist. You were confused at first. The words used in the songs were...interesting. And Soap was dancing and tapping to it like he was in some dance off. It was amusing and fun. Of course his taste in music wore off on you and so it surprised noone on the team when you were running past them on the field, gun in hand while looking as if you had the time of your life, the could hear for a short time the music blasting through your headphones as you went to go for the next kills.

,,I ain't tryna be cool like you hmmhmhmhmm", you sang while aiming to shoot an enemy, the new song coming on another Doja Cat favourite of you and soap. Hitting the target clean in the head you smirked. ,,I'm bitch. I'm a boss. I'm bitch, I'm a boss, I'm a shine like gloss!", ,,Oi yes you are Darlin!", Soap beamed from behind you. Price was just sighing and pinching his nosebridge while Ghost was just standing next to him like an annoyed older sibling.

You guys would play this type of music all around the base, 24/7. All week long. Until Price got so mad he made you do the dishes and gave you one month of cleaning duty. You did in fact not keep it down afterwards and everyone just had to live with it. Some of the younger recruits actually enjoyed it and envied you guys for that, made them feel less stressed and more relaxed.

Oh boy. Oh. Boy. He nearly died. First time you blasted that music on the car ride to some pub out of town because you guys all got some time off duty? He was thinking about how he could never go to heaven now, or even just into a church. He would perish just standing on the steps of a church. But then he remembered, he wasn't even religious. So that was fine. But then he thought "Why the fuck is this muppet listening to THAT?!!?!?". You currently sat in the driver's seat and danced to S.L.U.T by Bea Miller. Before that a song way worse was playing, Price recalled (it was I Want Your Bite by Cara Cunningham). This one now wasn't too bad. It was quite nice actually. Way more innocent than ghe other one. John was thankful for that, he grew very hot and was all flustered by the other song which made him feel a little uncomfortable.

,,Oh we're nearly there Cap!", ,,Y-Yes. Just...just put the car to a stop yeah?", ,,Whatever you say Captain!", you smiled while the next song came on. ,,Oh my god this one is so good!". Price looked over to you, awaiting something more innocent again like before. He thought wrong.

,,Ride it, slide it, bite, get inside it

Come on, touch my body

I know that you like it, you can't hide it

Come on touch my body

Hotter, bigger, faster, longer, thicker

Come on touch my body!", you sang loud and proud to the lines of Treat Me Like A Slut by Kim Petras. John officially was a tomato now. He loved seeing you having your fun, but this was surely and never will be his kind of music choice.

,,Treat Me Like A Slut, little dirty bitch I love to fuck!", ,,Okayyy I think it's- oh look there's the pub! Get us a good parking lot and then we'll have some fun kid, a'right?", ,,Yes!".

Poor guy always gets all red when he hears some of his boys play such music. And with Soap and you, and occasionally also Kyle, on his team that was a lot of times. But he wouldn't be too mad about it. Just sometimes id you played it too loud or while he was in an important meeting. He did enjoy seeing you all have your fun so he is not too strict with punishments.

You are playing some pretty filthy, nasty song in your shared house. Ale just came back from grocery shopping, Rudy in tow helping him with the bags. You were wearing just a shirt and boxers while singing to the song, looking through some magazines on the couch and just waiting for Alejandro to be back. He new of your guilty pleasure for those songs, this kind of music. He adored the way you would get all red sometimes when he talked about it to you, but he doesn't judge. He actually listens to songs like this as well. Obviously in spanish. He showed you some in his native language and you enjoyed them, even if you didn't know what was said.

Alejandro would laugh sometimes when you randomly put the music on while you were in a fight. It always made his mood go all the way up hearing and seeing you enjoy this music, especially if you would listen to the spanish ones he had shown you. For him it is no problem. He trusts you with being focused on missions so he allows you to listen to music, sometimes you even listen together over the radio.

The same goes for Rodolfo, but the poor guy would be worried sick if you would start blasting loud music on missions out of nowhere. Give the little guy a warning beforehand so he doesn't shoot you out of shock hehe. He also shows you songs in spanish, some that are not as filthy as yours but have the same kind of energy and he translates them for you.

Little german/austrian boy listens to filthy music himself. He is the biggest Rammstein fan there is. One of his favourite songs is probably Bück Dich (Bend Over) and Dicke Titten (Big Boobs/Big Tits). He also really enjoys Labyrinth by OOMPH! It's not really filthy with words but the meaning is pretty dirty. It's also a banger like, he was so happy you enjoyed listening to music with him. To that kind of music as well. He really wantes to visit a Rammstein concert with you someday, if you said yes.

He doesn't listen to music on the job though. And because he's your colonel he asked you kindly to not do it either. On the flight to wherever the mission was? Yes of course he will even listen with you to calm his nerves. At the base? Sometimes he even gets Horangi to join you guys, who really hates this kind of music because he heard too much of it in hia home country (he absolutely hates kpop and all the horny people coming with it).

When you showed him some of your favourite artists and they would sing too fast or use words he didn't understand, you would try to translate for him and the most funny german ever. He told you it was fine to try to explain in english but you really wanted to make him happy and maybe even laugh a little when you tried to explain that the person in the song just sang "Ich möchte in deinen Titten ertrinken" (I wanna drown on those tits/boobs of yours). He is so sweet if someone came up and would make fun of you listening to such music, like he would finally use his rank for once and make them regret for ever saying that to you.

[marywisdom]

Okay so I’m a physical conspiracy board away from turning into Riz, but there’s one thing I cannot get out of my mind and that’s

The Rogue teacher found Kipperlilly. Not the other way around. The Rogue teacher found Kipperlilly.

Which means that the Ratgrinders have at least one teacher in their corner (likely two if Ruben and Henry Hopclap don’t share a name by pure fucking coincidence). What does the Rogue teacher have against the Bad Kids?? Have we met them already?? Are there more teachers with taking issue with them? I actually don’t think Porter, he’s just a dick. But like, somebody wants the Ratgrinders to get revenge for something.

What I think is likely:

- Lucy Frostblade died at the end of Junior Year due to something related to the Bad Kids shenanigans.

- This turned Ruben emo -> is there a clue hidden in his song? “In space no one can feel you dying” - is this what happened to Lucy?? Did Lucy go to Astral Space, either to look for YES! or for another god and did she die there? Did she die because of Cassandra? Did she die because of YES!? Did she die because of the Night Yorb?

- side note, I am throwing it out there, I think the Rogue teacher is that little aviator goblin - I don’t trust him, also Brennan pointedly said that kid was like Riz in Freshman year, only into aviation instead of detective stuff, and with how the Ratgrinders are so clearly mirrored after the Bad Kids I am suspicious. Bonus points if Ecaf is somehow involved, being an actual mirror. (Oh god I’m this close to writing an essay about how Brennan is holding up a mirror to all of his PCs this season and what this symbolizes in terms of growing up and such)

- Anyway, Lucy’s death must have something to do with the Bad Kids. Why else would they specifically request a Cleric of Helio for their party, if not to mess with Kristen?

This list has gotten away from me - anyway I cannot wait to find out what the Ratgrinders High Five Heroes did for their Sophomore Year project. I’ve got a feeling it’s really important

[angelesca]

need sunday's touch so bad but he is being emo about it

wc: ~1370 // content & warnings!: pining, so close yet so far grr, sunday x gn!reader, pet name("little bird"), kissing n' touching but nothing explicit, slow burn-ish a/n: i wrote this as a sequel in mind (part 1 here), but you could likely read this as a standalone. however, i make references to part 1 so it would probably flow nicer ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

"SUNDAY," YOU FIRMLY STOOD YOUR GROUND, "WE CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE."

the stars shone in sunday's eyes, shining golden with undying devotion to your sacred temple. between yours and his desperate eyes, millions of unspoken words traversed back and forth.

in his room, your hands gripped both arms of his chair, confronting him face-to-face. today, you will shatter your fears.

his eyes lowered, face tilted away. "i do not know what you are referring to."

your eyebrows furrowed. "don't give me that excuse."

you were both trying to hinder the fierce, unbreaking desire to tip the edges, testing patience.

all the emotions you have clutched in your heart weighed down on you, and it punished you the more you realised your fondness for sunday. when your eyes searched for him - and there he was - in the shadows without fail. when you caught the lift of his lips, cheeks, and eyes as your gazes met. and you do not realise how your smile naturally jumped higher until he abruptly left you alone. to acknowledge how much his presence affected you.

it constricted you slowly, a vice that gradually tightened as days passed. the love you reserved for sunday cast pain and joy - a double-edged sword.

"do you hate me?" you asked, resolute, yet trembling at the thought of his response confirming your anxieties.

sunday's eyes narrowed, questioning the nonsense you were spewing, tracing your hazy expression to figure you out.

"then why do you avoid me so?" you asked, "you have never stood within even arm's length. you have never handed me anything in person. you have never picked me up when i fell over. and... "

always so close but never there, your mouth opened but did not convey these last words. you shut your eyes momentarily. "i don't get it. please, tell me, anything please, just some words to explain this silent distance between us."

sunday's stare softened, wordlessly embracing your vulnerability. however, he was conflicted on whether to comfort you. to indulge in this new light at the end of the tunnel, which you forlornly wrenched with your hands, would be to infringe upon your divinity. his hands that have known endless suffering and sacrifice, could never dare to brush yours unless he craved to provoke the gods.

sunday paused a moment before announcing: "i will be leaving soon coming the charmony festival."

"... what?"

his words parted a greater distance between you two.

your vision clouded. the vice - tightened. relentlessly. twisting deep into your weakness, stripping you bare of your guard. you were hearing crashing waves and everything tipped over all at once. this was it.

"if you're leaving, i respect your decision. but you cannot leave me like this," you replied, biting your lip, "do not leave me to wonder what your touch would've felt like." wetness coated your eyes.

"my hands are unclean. i cannot grant you this." sunday vowed. his fingers opened but withdrew them just as quickly.

"so stupid," you muttered. your chest exploded, "then just taint me. corrupt. with your 'blood and sin'. after all, i am no saint either."

your fingers ghosted over his pristinely gloved hand. hands that, which 'hid blood and sin', had never once sullied a speck of your blessed body, gravely frightened of dulling your radiance with the slightest trespass into your orbit.

"i am not some deity that needs sheltering. i am just another existence, just as you are." you finished.

sunday's eyes widened, thunderstruck. you articulated reason into his stubborn mind: you were no godly being. your brightness made him believe he was not worthy of you; you were on the far horizon that was unreachable to him. yet, you were just another existence, just as he was.

he spoke hesitantly, "of course not. you are one of the strongest people i have had the pleasure of knowing. i know of your gratuitous kindness, strength and bright eyes. you are not anything less," his voice withered, "i did not mean to discredit you."

"then what is stopping you from me?" you taunted.

your ears drowned out everything but the rapid lifts and falls, and the deep and shallow pacing of his breaths. his fingers twitched in response, attempting his hardest to restrain whatever fragile control he had left.

he did not think you would confront him like this. he believed living in your shadow would make him insignificant enough for you to forget him after his plans. but you both could not ever forget each other. how could he forget you at all? he did not plan for this. how stupid he was.

he listened to your breathing, mimicking as you did to his, pacifying his wavering worries. your comfort and company felt natural, like home. the sun was dimming and the stars began to set in your eyes as they whispered reassurances. the apprehension of tomorrow was blanketed by your steady voice which commanded mountains and soothed fires.

you had stood on his horizon, finally within reach, and he was right there with you. the waves were slowing in his ears - he had returned to your shore.

he swiped the tears varnishing your glistening eyes, but not close enough to touch your skin. he was about to let the scales tip in favour of you. "so you would not mind? you would not mind me?"

your eyes formed their crescent shape and sunday melted into it. "you can be so stupid sometimes."

fervours resonated, heartbeat-to-heartbeat, pulsing for one another's precious touch.

it pained both of you greatly to observe how the other needed, yearned, yet never touched.

magnetised, yet ill-fated to repel; parallel lines that would never meet; the inverse ebb and flow of day and night. the universe tried its hardest to work against them.

to brave beyond the barriers enforced by universal law would be to risk everything faithful in the world.

with one more breath, all fears finally shattered.

your touches finally found each other, joining at the horizon.

initially, awkwardness hung in the air. shuffling and shifting. fluttering fingers and bashful staring. contented smiles and chuckles at the unimaginable situation they had wandered into. like a mirror, reciprocating back and forth, neither knowing what to do. overwhelmed but delighted.

sunday decided to make the first venture. he gently unfastened his gloves, to your surprise, and you learned every scar, bump and discolouration on his bare hands. it was not hideous, nor did it bear any sin. it was only human.

your hand crawled up his palm and he quivered at first before settling into your solace. fingers instinctively intertwining - a key and lock that fit each other. his thumb grazed your knuckles. you drew along the lines of his lips and he released an unsteady breath, nestling into your touch.

the way his palm timidly sketched the outline of your body but did not initiate further. how he shrank as much as possible to house you on his lap. when he looked at you, infatuated, puppy-like, waiting for you to throw him a bone. anything. he was all yours to command.

so you shed your shame and press a kiss on the corner of his lips. you did not move far, lingering in front of his face. it took him by surprise, evident by the pink flush on his face and the fluttering of his wings above his ears. akin to a dog wagging its tail.

he inhaled deeply. an indiscernible look flashed on his face. his brilliant eyes eclipsed, darkening, and his face tipped over. his lips hovered by your ears, on the verge of precariously meeting if you did not back away.

"bad..." he mumbled, "you are a bad little bird."

electric ran up your spine as the words left his deceptively innocent lips. you sat up straight, at attention, the sensation of heat overriding your senses.

"a-ah..." you could only focus on the fire pooling below your stomach, writhing, as a tornado stormed your mind.

he pulled you closer. hands snaking up your shirt at an agonizingly slow rate, teasing you, corruption taking over.

"do not run away now. you will finish this mess that you have made."

and you and sunday crashed, collided, and met each other, all at once.

a/n: yikes this was longer than i hoped for. there are still many dynamics that i can envision with sunday but this was long enough. hopefully this fic makes someone happy out there ahaha ;'') thanks for reading!!😘

[ms-demeanor]

oh my god this is random but i rarely come across people who like mike patton, i know he's very influential but for some reason almost no one talks about him, it was nice see you mentioning him!! i would love to hear more about your music taste

I am painfully and overwhelmingly obsessed with Faith No More to the point that I am the lone remaining admin of @faithnomoreshitposting. The first dance song at my wedding was Mr. Bungle's "Retrovertigo" (Mr. Bungle was the last band I saw pre-pandemic and it was fantastic) I also used to make a webcomic on tumblr called @punkpuns that's about goth, metal, and punk subcultures and at lease a few of those comics touch on my taste.

I'm also in a band called P.I.T. and a lot of the music we've made is music I like. It's a punk band but it's a punk band that's heavily informed by the two permanent members being goths who are really into industrial and metal. Here's one of our songs:

My singing style with my band is *very specifically* colored by the way I'm fixated on Patton's voice. That doesn't come across in all of our songs but I was definitely thinking "what would Patton do?" when I was figuring out key changes and breathing and switching between clean and distorted sound or trying to get to the very bottom of my range.

I also really like Orville Peck, Soul Coughing, Hole, Tom Petty, and ELO. I really like The Clash. I really like Body Count. I really like (the) Melvins. I had an obsessive Beatles phase from the ages of 13 to 17 and I grew up in a household where my dad was similarly obsessive about KISS so I kind of like KISS by default even though they objectively suck.

I generally like a lot of music. I like a lot of rap but I'm not deeply familiar with the genre and am mostly aware of stuff that was popular in the 90s. I like a lot of big band music but and a lot of jazz but I couldn't name a lot of albums or songs. I like a lot of country generally but I do not like a lot of country since the nineties. I have listened to and enjoyed a lot of emo but that mostly manifests as playing one Bright Eyes song on repeat. I am not terribly fond of pop music but I get why people like most of it (I don't understand swifties, sorry, she's the aural equivalent of dry toast except listening to her doesn't reduce nausea).

I will pretty much listen to anything, the things that I like the best are rarely played on the radio, and there's very little that will annoy me if someone puts it on (please don't make me listen to showtunes or pop country).

IDK music is good. I like music. On my website rec page I've got a running list of whatever piece of music I've been fixated on recently. I think I spent two months of 2020 listening to Janitor by Suburban Lawns on repeat.

[wonysugar]

hate rodrigo (literally) | aeri uchinaga

a/n: this is not even a fic this is a tiny little one shot that i wrote yesterday night AT LIKE TWO AM due to thoughts we had in a discord server ahem anyways I FELL ASLEEP THO. soo have this now!!

genre : really bad crack smut like i genuinely have no idea how to describe this

word count : like 600 something?

tags : one shot, smut (obvs), crack, ptv mention, falling in reverse mention, olivia Rodrigo mention, mcr mention, taylor swift mention (sorry @pupyuj)

pairing : angsty!giselle x whitegirlmusic!femreader (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO LABEL THISSFJEKF)

your music taste wasn’t something you particularly shared with people, but you didn’t hide it, either. to you, it was music, nothing more, nothing less.

however, one of your friends, aeri, took music very, very seriously, and it really showed. she had a certain aesthetic, she wore certain things and god, did she listen to certain music.

“no like i genuinely can’t grasp the fact that you unironically listen to olivia rodrigo?” she laughed, leaning back on her bed as you stared at her in disbelief.

“god aeri, some of her songs are good, you just haven’t tried them.” you snapped back, wearing a convinced smile as you proceed to jokingly hit her arm.

“okay, sure, whatever. but just imagine getting to know someone, going on dates with them, all the sha-bang. then, when it’s time to get down and freaky, they turn on their sex playlist and motherfucking driver’s license starts playing??”

she was basically cackling at that point and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. defending your cause seemed like it would’ve been difficult, with how far up her own ass she was.

“yeah, because that isn’t a sex song? olivia rodrigo doesn’t make fucking sex music?? try putting a falling in reverse song while you get naked, see how that works out for you.” you fight back.

“oh i don’t know about you, but i’d be soaked for sure. plus, anything would be better than hearing young adult women sing about their previous relationship like it was a war they fought in.” she kid, crossing her arms in victory, as if she even won the argument in the first place.

“i’m gonna make you swallow those words right back up, uchinaga.”

“try me, l/n.”

-

“f-fuck y/n, go- mmh- slower..”

so, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way!

it originally was just the both of you, taking turns and putting different songs on the bluetooth speaker and rating them based on ‘how wet it got you’.

turns out, while that was a theory stage, there seemed to be a practice one too, and you’ve been in it for the past 10 minutes now.

thrusting your fake cock in and out of her, paying no mind to the very loud, very obnoxious pierce the veil song that was playing in the background, you pinned her hands above her head. your pace increased with time, and the decibels of her voice increased with the pace.

“oh my god y/n pleasepleasepleasepleasee i’m s-so sorry i- fuck me- i didn’t mean-“ she cried, poor thing probably didn’t even realize that her black eyeliner was running all over her cheeks. her arms and legs wrapped around you,

“shut your fucking mouth and take it, you emo fucking cumslut.” you slammed your strap into her as she yelled out your name. while she was pleading and begging for something, you were on top of her perfect laying-in-mcr-bedsheets body.

she, herself, wasn’t aware of what she was begging for, her mind was completely blank. all she could think about was how good her pussy felt when you pounded it so violently, when you were being so aggressive with her that you just used her body however you wanted.

you thought that whole thing would be a one-time occurrence, but no, it happened a second time, when she said that taylor swift had mid music. was she doing it on purpose or something?

anyways,

yes, you fucked her with the 1989 album playing.