#funk zone

[sonicandallstars]

Enter the Funk Zone

[blisterthigh]

warmups

[tearlessrain]

seriously can catastrophes stop happening for five minutes my brain is already fried from the ones we're already experiencing

[hinamie]

hands and knees i am begging . have i passed the test the universe has deigned to give me these past few days. can it be over.

[autism-corner]

uhoh

[thecreativemillennial]

Albums from the 2000s

[chargoeson]

giving myself permission to be even more annoying 🫶🏻

[cadking]

This is an official Twilight Zone post

ive probably said this before but i LOVE the twilight zone episodes with no quantifiable moral at the end, they just wrap up like “wouldnt it be fucked up if that happened?”

[sonicmoremusic]

Timezone - World Destruction

[vegas-ventura]

Album so good it helped heal me from trying to get over a relationship

[gyrrakavian]

Sonic the Hedgehog – Angel Island Zone ▸ Funk Fiction Remix | GameChops How the hell haven't I seen an animation of the Sonic crew just swaggering around to this yet?

I've tried to listen to this without stimming 4 times and have completely failed each time.

[the-most-humble-blog]

Taint Misbehavin’: The Gender-Neutral Tragedy of the Human Gooch

You’ve been lied to your entire life.

Not about taxes. Not about calories. Not even about the clitoris.

No — I’m talking about the taint.

That glorious, forgotten slab of flesh. That unclaimed demilitarized zone between the promised land and the chocolate factory. That thin, sweaty strip separating birth from exile.

Let’s set the record straight:

Women. Have. Taints.

And the fact that society pretends otherwise is the greatest act of anatomical erasure since we collectively agreed that “muffin top” was a nice term.

🧠 What Is a Taint?

Also known as:

The perineum (if you’re a doctor)

The gooch (if you’ve owned a PS2 and body odor)

The grundle (if you’ve ever dated a drummer)

The Devil’s Slip-N-Slide (if your festival record is sealed)

Technically: “The perineum is the area between the genitals and the anus.”

But spiritually?

It’s the unspoken pause in God’s sentence. The hallway between the temple and the abyss. The place where gender, shame, and chafing meet.

🔍 Who Gets One?

Let me be clear:

Whether you’re packing heat or holding space, Slanging meat or curating petals, Carrying a baby cannon or a soft serve dispenser—

You. Have. A. Taint.

And if you’ve gone your entire life without realizing that, Congrats: society’s gendered body-shame campaign worked.

😤 But Isn’t “Taint” a Male Word?

Historically? Sure.

“Taint” was born in locker rooms. Raised by Xbox parties. Educated in Reddit threads. And baptized in the sweat of men who didn’t understand the purpose of a washcloth.

It was linguistically colonized by testosterone.

But anatomically?

It was always co-ed.

🚺 The Untold History of the Female Taint

You think the patriarchy invented oppression?

No. The real villain is linguistic erasure.

Because while men gave their taints nicknames, stories, and occasional bar soap— Women got radio silence.

Your undercarriage has been:

Ignored

Unlabeled

Uncelebrated

Unclaimed

You’ve spent years exfoliating your thighs and waxing your peach… …but no one told you there’s a full-blown diplomatic zone beneath it.

A biological Bermuda Triangle. A tactile twilight zone.

Your taint.

📉 Let’s Break Down the Cultural Bias

Body Part Coverage:

Boobs – Over-celebrated

Butts – Literally worshiped

Clitoris – Found in 1998

Labia – Misunderstood poetry

Taint – Ghosted

Why?

Because it’s funny. And neutral. And sweaty.

You can’t put the taint in a perfume ad. You can’t put it on a billboard.

So they buried it.

💀 What Makes the Taint Powerful?

Because it’s:

Genderless

Timeless

Politically neutral

Sensually charged

Biologically disrespected

It’s the only body part that:

Isn’t sexualized

Isn’t sacred

Isn’t politicized

Isn’t aestheticized

Isn’t protected

It just is.

Unbothered. Unbranded. Unapologetically indifferent.

And that makes it sacred.

📚 Linguistic Justice: Let’s Rename It Properly

Unisex taint aliases, rebranded for the equality era:

The Fleshbridge

The Forbidden Fajita™

Undercooch

The Sin Tundra

Devil’s Hallway

The Emotionless Alley

The Oathbreaker’s Strip

The Nether Yawn

Purgatory Patch

The Biblical Buffer Zone™

Choose your fighter. Reclaim your stripe. We’re not asking anymore.

🧼 Taint Hygiene: No Gender Exemptions

Let’s get raw.

Your taint:

Sweats like a liar in court

Collects funk like it’s in a blues band

Suffocates in yoga pants

Smells like the ghost of mistakes past if ignored too long

Male or female — it don’t matter.

Your taint will betray you unless:

You lather.

You exfoliate.

You show it the respect you pretend to give your “self-care routine.”

The taint is the final frontier of bodily respect.

Ignore it, and it will out you in summer.

🧪 The Psychological Impact of Owning Your Gooch

Let me be dead serious.

When you finally accept your taint:

Your shame collapses

Your ego softens

Your sex becomes better

Your humor becomes darker

Your subconscious literally trusts you more

Women who accept their taint become dangerous. Not because they’re wild — but because they’re free.

💥 The Taint Test: Feminist Edition

Ask your friend with the “Divine Feminine Energy” tattoo:

“Do women have a taint?”

“Can I call mine a gooch and still be empowered?”

“If you ignore your perineum, are you really body positive?”

Watch her hesitate. Watch her blink. Watch her glitch.

Because the truth is hilarious. And hilarity burns the shame right out of you.

🧘‍♀️ If You’re a Woman Reading This…

You now have no excuse.

That strip of skin between the peach and the abyss? That subtle runway between entrance and exit?

That’s your taint.

And it deserves:

A name

A scrub

A shrine

A Wikipedia page

You don’t need to gender it. You just need to own it.

🤯 TL;DR

The taint is real

The taint is universal

Women have taints

The patriarchy ignored it

But your loofah doesn’t have to

This isn’t just anatomy. It’s resistance.

💣 CALL TO ACTION

🔁 Reblog this before someone calls it “cisnormative perineum propaganda” 🧽 Send to the friend who forgot to wash hers today 🍑 Share if you’ve ever worn tight leggings with no idea what’s happening underneath 🫧 Save this if your taint is a neglected spiritual quest waiting to happen

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

This post is satire, anatomy education, performance art, cultural rebranding, locker room theology, and biological diplomacy.

It is protected by the U.S. Constitution, the Geneva Convention of Postmodern Memes, and the sacred covenant of shower-based self-respect.

If you’re offended: Wash deeper. Laugh louder. Reclaim your gooch.

Because if you can’t name it — the patriarchy still owns it.

And that is the real tragedy.

[classyrbf]

PARTY 4 U! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you see your ex at a party two years after a messy breakup, sparking conversation and reliving memories, you’re met with the harsh truth of reality

INFO...ex bf!gojo x fem!reader, reader and gojo are near their mid 20s, italics indicate readers thoughts and flashbacks, angst angst angst, messy relationship, messy breakup, kinda toxic?, talks of engagement, gojo is in a relationship, talks of arguments, reader is still in love with gojo, no happy ending, read at your own risk

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You shouldn’t even be here right now, standing in the corner of the crowded kitchen with a red solo cup in your hand filled with a cheap and bitter tasting alcohol. The pop music blares over the speakers, lightly tapping your foot to the beat while you glance at everyone around you. Couples, friends, random strangers who don’t have a care in the world and are having the best time of their life right now. You only came here for your friend, it was her graduation party, her way of celebrating for finally getting her degree. But you weren’t even sure where she was and truthfully you were starting to regret even coming as harsh as it sounds.

A deep sigh left your lips, placing the half empty cup of alcohol on the kitchen island, leaving it stranded. You pulled your phone from your back pocket, noticing the message from your boss asking if you could come in earlier tomorrow to help with deadlines. You bit the inside of your cheek, thumbs hovering over the screen, deciding if you should even respond. It seems like your life now is nothing but work, home, sleep, and repeat. You’ve gotten so used to it unfortunately that this party has thrown you out of your comfort zone, but you only dragged yourself here in hopes to have fun and get away from the depressing reality. No relationship, barely any friends, and not even a pet to come home to and hang out with. You were quite literally alone, cooped up in your studio apartment from beginning to end.

Eventually, you put your phone back in your pocket, leaving your boss on delivered. It wouldn’t be hard to at least try and have fun, talk with people, hell maybe even a one night stand will get you out of the funk you’ve been in. You needed some type of push, but who else to do it besides yourself? You glared at the abandoned cup on the counter, eyes narrowing, contemplating if you should down the disgusting liquid in one shot. Before you could even think, the rim of the cup was at your lips and the alcohol hit the back of your throat, leaving a burning sensation. You winced, letting out a small cough as you put the cup back down on the counter. “Gross,” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“She said there should be more drinks in the fridge,” a familiar voice spoke.

You looked up to see a man with long silky black hair, and snakebite piercings to complete his look. It was no one other Geto Suguru, your ex boyfriends best friend. Though you never really spoke much to him, you still knew him well enough that seeing him here brought some sense of comfort compared to the strangers you were around. But just as you were about to say hi, behind him is a taller man with snow white hair and gleaming blue eyes, walking in with that charming smile you remembered so clearly. Gojo Satoru.

Two years. It’s been two years since you’ve last seen his face. Since that night when he walked out on you, left you in street with tears on your face. Your heart sunk, all the memories from good to bad came crawling right to the front of your brain, disregarding anything else you were thinking of. You quickly looked away, trying to avoid any contact with him. Retreating back to your corner in the kitchen, you brought up your phone, sticking your face in it and mindlessly clicking and scrolling through any apps in hopes he wouldn’t look your way. Why was it so much hotter all of a sudden? And why did the walls feel like they were closing in? Leave. Leave. Leave. Please, leave. A shadow cast over you, the mixed scent of cologne and alcohol filling your nose.

“Y/n?” And it was like everything around suddenly stopped. The music. The people. Time. And as much as you wanted to walk away, you didn’t. You looked up at him and smiled. Such a fake smile.

“Hey! Gojo!” You cheerfully spoke, tucking your phone back in your pocket. You gulped, your hands clammy, wiping them against your jean skirt. “How’s it been?”

“It’s been great,” he chuckled. “How have you been? I didn’t expect to see you here.” He took a sip of his drink, taking place beside you.

“Oh, yeah. I know the party girl. Her graduation day, so she invited me! Thought it would be good to get out.” You shrugged, a fake smile still turned at the corner of your mouth.

“That’s good, that’s good,” he murmured, nodding his head.

The tension was thick and awkward and you wanted to walk away, maybe even scream at him for leaving you in the street that night, completely ghosting you and blocking you instead of being an actual man and breaking up with you.

“You look great, by the way. I like, uh, your outfit. It’s something different than what I’m used to.” He cheekily smiled.

Your brows furrowed. “And what exactly are you used to?” You asked, turning to face him.

“I don’t know!” He laughed. “I just remember your style being different. Always wearing jeans or something like that.” He pointed at your skirt.

“Well, it’s been two years since you’ve last seen me, I’d like to think I changed at least a little bit.” You looked down at your outfit, fixing your shirt. “You still look the same, though.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, wow! Do I?” He held his arms out. “I didn’t change at least a little bit?” He turned around, giving you a show of his outfit.

Hopefully as a person.

“Nope! Still the same old Gojo!” You shook your head, smiling. Why are you still standing here? Why are smiling? Why is the conversation going so well as if nothing happened?

“Awe, come on don’t be like that.” He playfully nudged you. “You know you don’t have to call me Gojo either, right? I mean we dated for two years, I’m not a stranger.” He smirked.

Yes, you are.

“Oh, I remember. I remember very clearly.” You nod, fidgeting with your hands.

“Remember our late night 7/11 runs? And when the slushee machine broke and it wouldn’t stop coming out? We literally ran out the door while the guy was yelling at us!” He laughed.

“Oh my gosh, yes! It went all over my shirt and my shoes were so sticky! That shit was the worst!” The memory played in your head like a movie, so clearly you could still hear you and Gojo’s childlike laughter as you ran out the store. But you also remember the days when he would act like you didn’t even exist. Not a single call or text from him for days.

“All I’m asking is for you to communicate with me! I get that you’re busy with school but a text would be fine! I never said you had to talk to me twenty four seven!” You shouted at him.

“Sometimes I don’t feel like texting anyone! Is that so damn hard to understand? Not everything is about you, y/n!” He furrowed his brows at you as if what you were saying was bewildering, like you had the most unhinged thought.

“What? What the fuck are you talking about? And don’t even lie to me either because I see you with Geto out at parties, drinking and having fun all night! So I know it ain’t just about school. You’re just fucking ignoring me at this point. I’m so sick of fighting for attention from my own boyfriend!” You bite the inside of your cheek, stepping closer towards him.

“Then don’t.”

“We had the best times.” He let out a sigh, obvious he was reminiscing.

No we didn’t.

“Yeah, we did,” you quietly replied. There was a few seconds of silence between you two before gojo spoke up again.

He cleared his throat, his smile now faded, a serious look on his face like he was scared to say something. “I wanted to say sorry as well. That night, where I left you in the street, I should’ve never done that. I’m…I’m really fucking sorry. I was immature for blocking you and ending things that way. It was…I guess I was just so confused and overwhelmed by everything.”

“Yeah, I was too. I think it was probably best that we ended things off that way now that I think about it. It was harsh, but it’s what I needed,” you admitted.

“What do you mean?” Gojo asked.

“Gojo,” you sighed, “no matter how bad the relationship was, I willing to stay regardless and ruin myself. It sounds pathetic to say, but I truly loved you so much I wanted to do anything. I wanted you to try with me, at least show me you still wanted me. So, that might where you left and blocked me was the best thing. No contact, right?” You chuckled, like it was some natural thing to say, like it didn’t make your guts turn to think about how much you cried for months on end wondering where everything went wrong.

Gojo stared at you and it’s like he could see the tears on your face from all those times he made you cry, but now you were just brushing it off. Deep down, he still sees it hurts you, he knows you too well. “I loved you, but you deserved better.”

You looked him in eyes. “I wanted you to be better. It’s too late for that, right?” You weren’t really asking, more of a rhetorical question, but Gojo didn’t take it that way.

“It is…I’m engaged…I have a fiancé,” his words were quiet and his bright blue eyes somehow dimmed.

“Oh.” Suddenly those words seemed to turned your whole world upside down. Those simple words had such an impact on your life. The world felt dizzying, like it was spinning faster than you could keep up. “Congrats.” And those genuine smiles you were giving quickly turned fake again. “Did you propose?”

“Yeah…” He answered, blinking.

“Wow, that’s…how long?” You raised your brows in shock. Your mouth felt dry and that shot of alcohol you took just minutes ago felt like it was ready to come back up.

“It’s been a year and a half,” he plainly spoke.

You truly had no other words to say. While you were sat at home, dealing with the worst heart break of your life, mending yourself together piece by piece, he was having the time of his life with someone else. It took you a year to finally start feeling like yourself, to realize that it was going to be okay. In just a few months, he was willing to give another girl everything he couldn’t give you.

He never truly loved you.

Why couldn’t it have been you? Why were you always the girl before the one? Why were you never someone true love? Fairytale? It always ended in a nightmare. And now the man that you loved so deeply is getting married to someone else soon. “I’m happy for you, Gojo.”

“I’m sorry, y/n.” And gojo could tell you weren’t happy for him, yet you lied to him and to yourself to keep your true feelings from coming out. And he didn’t do a thing to stop you from walking out that kitchen, instead he watched you leave.

“Excuse me, ‘scuse me.” You pushed through the crowd of people, your chest starting to tighten and the music ringing in your ears. Fresh air, you needed fresh air. It felt like you were going to pass out. Why was everything moving in slow motion? You stumbled to your car, unlocking the door and quickly sitting down, slamming the door. The cool air hit your skin, your chest rapidly moving up and down with each shaky breath.

You turned to look towards the party, hoping by some miracle you’d see Gojo coming after you instead of just leaving you like he did before. And with each passing second, tears welled up in your eyes because you knew he wasn’t coming. A sob escaped your throat, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. You sucked in a breath, quickly wiping those tears away, afraid to show any sort of emotion towards him again. He didn’t deserve any more of your tears. But no matter how many tears you wiped and how much you tried to hold it in, it was inevitable. So you sat there, alone in your car, wiping your own tears and mending yourself back together before you had to go back home and restart your routine again tomorrow.

taglist:

@sleepykittyenergy @ravenbc @yharnam-prophet @screechingbasementprincess @avaredava @mxrxlxy @lordchula-thagrandrula @akiyhara @palestrawberrycollection @bijuu-naginata @jeansblit @jabulile @aemyuo @springismss @fmlalexis @gradmacoco @phob1cc @kousweet @saoirses-things

[sparklebootsandvans]

x

[teaboot]

It's weird enough as an agnostic having a solid month and a half of of nonstop schristmas music a year but what's it like for yall raised in fullon non-christian religions to hear dead 1950s white jazz guys harp on about snow and magic and Jesus in Bethlehem n shit

If i walked into work one day and there was an entire ass playlist full of 1960's funk about Brahma think I'd zone out a lot tbh

Would spend a lot of time googling

[pxpecxdy]

Thoughts from this semi-reformed thot - reactions from Charlie, Pope, Jack, and Robby upon finding out they've given the reader their first ever orgasm? ;) especially if they find out mid- or post-deed?

Let me just say I absolutely loved writing this!!! Got me outta a little funk I was in, especially with trying to write something different for each! Thank you!

TW: crying during sex, daddy kink, degradation

Pope freezes the minute it happens. He's on top of you, your back pressed against the soft mattress. He almost came from how tightly you clenched around him. But the air has shifted. He loves to stare at you while making love to you. He sees the tears drip down your face and stop everything, his fingers brushing the tears away. He immediately assumes he's done something wrong, that you've come to your senses and don't want him. "I'm okay I- its- I've never-" you whisper as you try to keep from sobbing but it's oh so hard. "That's my first one ever" you finally spit out. Pope doesn't say anything. He's just staring at you before he presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss.

Charlie is demeaning about it. "Oh you needed Daddy to be the one to finally get you off? Speak up, princess, all I hear is ah ah ah." He's mocking you while pounding into your tight cunt. His arm wraps around your throat, not squeezing but holding you in your place beneath him. "Nobody else could do this? How pathetic." He's chuckling like it's a game "This is easy, you're already about to cum again like the slut you are." His fingers rubbed unrelentlessly against your clit.

With Jack it's afterwards. You tell him as you're both cooling down. He's sitting on the edge of the bed putting his prosthetic back on while you're laying on your back across the entirety of the bed. "You know that's the first time I've ever come before?" You say causally like it's a fun fact. His head swivels and he's got that shit eating grin across his face, the same one when he proves he's right and does a complicated procedure on a patient. "So you're saying I rocked your world?" He teases as he leans back over you.

For Robby it throws him off. It's been a long time since he's been anyone's first for anything. He's between your legs with a damp rag, wiping up his cum that's spilling out of you before it starts to dry and get too uncomfortable. There's also the mixture of your own cum from what Robby thinks was the most powerful orgasm he's ever witnessed. "I've never had an orgasm til now" you admit to him. He's in the zone pampering you, doesn't even recognize the words that come out of your mouth right away. "Oh sorry." He says without thinking. You pause, looking down at him with the most amused and confused face. You burst out into a fit of giggles as you're yanking him up the bed and peppering his face with kisses.