#funk breakdown

[faustiandevil]

There is no greater personal Hell of your own making then getting obsessed with some dead actor and not being able to watch their entire filmography.

[thegreatyin]

i haven't really touched on it but for the record, caeru is. uh. Not Doing Well this hallowmas.

and by that, i mean he's probably spent most of it dissociating. and avoiding people. and not going to ""work"". and just generally being,,, Distant.

i don't know if him and the scoundrel have even exchanged a word since the ending of nemesis.

[herawell]

.

[wolverinedoctorwho]

I should stop reading this book I enjoy because it is getting late and I need to rest. To wind down from this activity I will spend an hour doom scrolling on Tumblr dot com, the thing I've been doing all day, and making myself upset over things I know are not worth brooding over. Surely staying up extra late to wallow will help me feel better in the long run.

[thisisgraeme]

Le Vibe Album Breakdown: Exploring the First 5 Tracks of 'Le Vibe' by GHSonic and THISISGRAEME

Get ready to vibe! 🎶 Dive into the first 5 tracks of 'Le Vibe' as I break down the influences, moods, and stories behind each one. Discover how Drum & Bass, funk, and soulful beats come together to create something truly special. Listen now!

Le Vibe Album Breakdown Welcome to the journey of “Le Vibe”—a sonic fusion of soulful grooves, modern electronic beats, and rich instrumental elements. Each track carries its own mood and energy, influenced by pioneers of atmospheric Drum & Bass and soulful electronic music. ELECTRONIC DANCE MUSIC Bandcamp YouTube Today, we’re diving deep into the first five tracks, exploring the unique…

[pangurlban]

Michael Jackson

Wanna Be Startin Somethin

Thriller

1984

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Saffy Lemur's Call of Duty Masterlist

Last updated: 20.12.2023

A/N: Per a few requests, I’ve redone my masterlist to make it easier to navigate the fic categories 💕😊 Original Masterlist

💕💕💕Welcome!!!!💕💕💕

Simon "Ghost” Riley-

Smut Blurbs

Simon Exploring Choking Kink

Simon And Throat F*cking

Soap And Ghost Threesome

Using Simon To Get Off

Reunion Sex With Simon

Simon Realizing He Has A Daddy Kink

Simon With A Breeding Kink

Late Nights

You're a Minx, You Know That?

You're Mine

Crying During Sex With Simon Riley

Simon And Yours First Time Having Sex

Simon Riley Doesn't Fuck You, He Worships You

Simon's C*ck Being Nearly Too Big For You

Simon And Jealous Sex

Simon Loving The Sight Of You Being F*cked By Him

Simon Letting You Use Him To Forget About Your Bad Day

Simon Sharing You With Johnny

Simon Is a Giver In Bed

Angst Blurbs

You Can't Leave Me

Dreams

I've Got You, Kid

Simon Wanting To Break Up With You Because He Thinks You Deserve Better

Simon Can't Sleep Alone Without You After A Fight

Simon Having A Nightmare About Losing You

Simon Pushing You Away After A Night Together

Fluff Blurbs

Simon telling you he loves you for the first time

Simon Attempting To Cook For Date Night

Simon Riley Showing You His Face For The First Time

Simon Realizing He Has Fallen For You

Simon's Love Language

Simon Coming Home For Good

"I Do"

Asking Simon What His Biggest Regret Is With You

Simon Loves His Wedding Band

Simon Riley And His Kisses

Simon Excited To Call You After A Long Day

Simon Seeing His Family's First Holiday Ornament

Simon Coming Home To You

First Date With Simon

Simon Waking Up Next To You

Simon Comforting You During A Funk

Simon Telling You He Loves You For The First Time

Wanting Simon's Attention While He's Working

Simon Being Scared to Love You

Dad! Simon Blurbs

Simon's Daughter Introducing Him To Her Class

Simon And His Daughter At The Park

Simon's soft moment with his baby girl

Simon's Daughter and Wife Welcoming Him Home On The Tarmac After A Mission

Simon Doing His Daughter's Hair For The First Time

Simon And His Daughter Who Had A Nightmare

Simon Introducing 141 To His Family

Simon Meeting His Newborn For The First Time

Random One- Shots

Soap, The Matchmaker

I'll Take the Big Blue One!

Innate Desire to Protect

Innate Desire to Protect Part 2

Teach Me How To Ride?

Date With Your Lieutenant

Words of Wisdom

What's Your Favorite Color? (Part 2 to Words of Wisdom)

Simon's Bundle of Joy

141 Boys and Others Multi- Character Fics

Smut

141 + König & Alejandro With Reader Surprising Them With Lingerie

141 + König x Fem! Reader Going Down On Them

141 + König & Alejandro Eating Their Fem! Partner Out

141 + König Breaking their GN! Partners Bed

141 + König With Fem!Reader Riding Them

141 + König + LV Cumming Too Quick

141 + König Where Reader Asks Them For A Baby

141 + König Where They Hurt The Reader During Sex

141 + König Where The Reader Squirts For The First Time

141 + König Where Reader Accidentally Calls Them Daddy In Bed

Losing Your Virginity To 141 + König

141 + LV & König Begging Fem! Reader to Sit On Their Face

Giving 141 Boys Roadhead

Fluff

141 + König With Reader Who is a Major Cuddlebug

141 + LV & König x Reader, Where You Don't Say I Love You Back

141 + König x Reader's First Kiss

141 + König x GN Reader When You Slap/Grab Their Ass Playfully

141 + Konig Telling the Reader They Love Them for The First Time

141 + König & Alejandro With A GN! Reader Who Dodges a Kiss

141 + König Where The Reader Wipes Off Their Kiss

Catching 141 + König By Surprise With A Kiss

Angst

141 With Reader Who Uses Their Callsign in Emergency Situation

141 + König Where Fem! Reader Gets Jealous/Insecure

141 + König Reacting To Reader Having A Breakdown From Past Trauma

141 + König Rejecting Reader, Then Regretting It

141 + König Telling Reader They Hate Them In An Arguement

141 + König Crying In Front Of Reader For First Time

Headcannons

141+ Alejandro, Rudy, and Konig w/ Pregnant Reader Headcannons

141 + Königs Favorite Positions / How They Enjoy Sex HC's

141 + König Fluff Headcannons

Other

Ghost/Soap/König's Reaction to Reader Pouring Salt in Their Coffee

How the 141 Boys + König react to the reader getting an epidural

141 + König with a Reader Who Sneezes are Loud as Shit

141 + König Where The Reader Finds Out She's Having Twins

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always, my inbox is always open for requests/questions/feedback! :)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for characterization (pt. 3)

Mentality

abhorrence, absentmindedness, abstraction, ache, aggravation, agonize, alarm, allergy, amazement, angst, anticipation, apathy, assurance, attention, attrition, awe, bathos, behalf, belonging, bitterness, boast, bosom, breast, buoyancy/buoyance, capitulation, care, censure, cheer, clemency, cogitation, comfort, complex, compulsion, conception, confusion, consideration, constancy, content, contrition, corollary, credit, curiosity, darkness, decision, deference, delight, delirium, dementia, dependence/dependency, design, despair, difficulty, disaffection, discipline, discomfiture, discontent, discrimination, disinclination, disorder, disquiet, distraction, disturbance, dolor, dumps, ecstasy, elation, emotion, enjoyment, envy, esprit de corps, exaltation, excitement, exhilaration, expectation, exultation, fat city, felicity, firmness, fog, forbearance, foresight, forgetfulness, frame of mind, free will, fret, frustration, funk, fury, glee, gratification, grief, happiness, heart, heartbreak, heaven, hoopla, huff, humanity, humor, idiocy, impulse, indignity, insight, introspection, jealousy, joy, kick, lament/lamentation, letdown, levity, madness, mania, melancholy, merriment/merrymaking, mirth, monotony, mope, mortification, mourning, nausea, neglect, nervous breakdown, neurosis, objection, observance, obsession, optimism, outlook, panic, paroxysm, pathos, penance, perception, pessimism, pity, Pollyanna, pout, precognition, premonition, presence, psyche, push, qualm, rage, rapture, red herring, rejoice, repent, repose, resent, resignation, resolution, restlessness, ruckus, sadness, satisfaction, security, self-satisfaction, sensibility, sentiment, servitude, simmer, slump, solace, sorrow, soul-searching, status quo, strain, stress, surprise, sympathy, telepathy, temperament, tension, tolerance, torpor, trance, triumph, umbrage, unrest, vanity, waver, wonder, worry, zeal, zest

Attributes of Mentality: aback, absconder, absent-minded, absorbing, accustomed, affected, afraid, aghast, alert, amatory, angry, apathetic, apprehensive, assumed, attentive, averse, bad, beaten, believable, berserk, bewildered, bigoted, bleak, blue, breathless, broad-minded, brokenhearted, burning, captive, cautious, cheerful, chipper, clairvoyant, compassionate, concerned, confused, contemplative, contented, crabby/crabbed, crazy, cross, curious, daffy, dearly, dejected, delirious, depressed, desolate, desperately, disaffected, disbelieving, disconcerted, discontented/discontent, discouraging, disenchanted, disgusted, disillusioned, disinterested, dispirited, dissident, distressed, doleful, dotty, down, downcast, dumbfounded, elated, emotional, enamored, enraged, excited, exultant, fed up, firm, flushed, forgetful, forlorn, frenetic, frightened, fulfilled, furious, glad, gleeful, glum, grateful, grief-stricken, gut, half-baked, happily, hard, hard-boiled, harried, headstrong, heartsick, high, hopeful, huffy, hysterical, ill-tempered, impassioned, inattentive, inconsolable, indifferent, indiscriminate, insane, insecure, intent, interested, intoxicated, irate, irresolute, jaundiced, jovial, joyful/joyous, jubilant, keen, languid, lethargic, livid, lonesome, loony, low, lukewarm, mad, malleable, manic/maniacal, mental, mindful, mirthful, mixed-up, morbid, mournful, narrow-minded, nerveless, neurotic, new age, normal, numb, nuts/nutty, objectivity, observant, obsessed, off-guard, one-sided, on the fence, opposed/opposing, overjoyed, partial, pensive, pent-up, petrified, phlegmatic, platonic, pooped, predisposed, prepared, profound, provincial, psyched, psychological, pumped, punch-drunk, puzzled, rabid, radical, rapacious, realistic, regretful, restless, rigid, rueful, salacious, sanguine, saturnine, sectarian, self-assured, sensitive, sick, skeptical, small-minded, solicitous, sore, sorry, sound, spellbound, steady, strong, stupefied, sulky, susceptible, tearful, tender, testy, thirsty, thoughtless, tired, torn, tough, ugly, unbalanced, uncaring, uncommitted, undecided, unemotional, unfeeling, uninterested, unsound, untroubled, upbeat, versed, wacky, wary, weary, wide-awake, wishful, woebegone, wrathful, wretched

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary ⚜ Part 1 ⚜ Part 2

[cece693]

Hi, your tumblr is amazing, I loved discovering it. Can I make a request? About a slasher who discovers that the male reader is a serial killer as terrible as the ones in the real world. I'm not sure which one would fit best; I thought of Jason, Billy and Stu, maybe Michael or Norman Bates… whatever you think is best and/or are most familiar with.

Slashers With a Serial Killer Lover (Slashers x GN! Reader)

Sorry it took a while to complete this request but I was in a weird funk and uninspired. However, with this being more of a multi-character request/headcannon, it spurred me to complete it. I included the slashers you mentioned above, alongside Hannibal, Will (I'm aware he's not a slasher, but I just love him) and Patrick. I also changed it to be gender neutral because I want to be more inclusive :)

Norman Bates

Norman would be conflicted—after all, you're not only worried about his reaction but that of 'mother.' If your actions pleased her, Norman might be supportive. However, if they don't and 'mother' perceives you to be a threat, expect Norman to turn against you (with tears in his eyes.) However, even if 'mother' does approve of your hobby, this relationship is far from simple. 'Mother' might grow jealous of how much Norman is straying from her teachings and become vengeful. Expect a chaotic rollercoaster of guilt, affection, and psychological breakdowns.

Michael Myers

Michael would be indifferent to your hobby unless they interfered with his own objectives. He might view you as a tool or an ally in his pursuits, but wouldn't engage emotionally or ethically about whom you kill. Expect no romantic gestures, but be assured, Michael observes from the shadows whenever your out and about. He's ready to lend a hand when you need a show of brutal force or the tides unexpectedly turn against you. Michael doesn’t tolerate weakness, so if you proved to be cunning and self-sufficient, that would almost earn a silent respect.

Billy Loomis

Billy’s manipulative side would initially question if this is some trick or if he can use the situation to his advantage. However, deep down, he’d be excited at the idea of having a lover who’s just as twisted as he is. However, because you are a serial killer and Billy has this notion of being the 'brains' of the relationship, expect many fights. He wants to be the person in control, so he might never be fully comfortable in your relationship if he perceives you as greater than him. This relationship is a mine for mind games, but be assured when you find common ground, you're a deadly duo.

Stu Matcher

Stu wouldn't care about you being a serial killer. In fact he'll be ecstatic because it would be like living in a non-stop horror flick. Let's face it, he has murder tendencies but often allows you to take reign. He would join your hunts but see it more as a game: he'd want to do 'team kills', wear matching outfits, etc. Expect him to crack jokes non-stop or reference horror tropes, even if you're in the middle of killing someone. Stu is impulsive—“Hey, let’s kill that person!” or “We should totally sabotage this house party!” If you're down for it, Stu’s loyalty is intense, though erratic.

Jason Voorhees

Jason mostly kills out of vengeance or anger, and he’s not particularly intellectual about it. So when he discovers that his boyfriend is a serial killer, he wouldn't be bothered. In fact, he'll probably look up to you: learning how to better kill and dispose of his victims. However, he would get violent if you make a move unto his territory (Camp Crystal Lake) or disrespect the memory of his beloved mother. You are a serial killer and so is Jason, but a part of you likes to hide some of your more brutal and gruesome kills from him. He has a childlike mind so you thread carefully and are overprotective of your giant teddy bear :)

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal, being a connoisseur of murder himself, would be intrigued and possibly delighted by having a lover who shared his proclivities. However, he would also evaluate your style and motives. If they matched his sense of aesthetic and intellectual stimulation, he would be supportive, but he might manipulate or dispose of you if deemed proved crude or unworthy. He has standards, after all. He’d encourage you to be more meticulous, to pay attention to the senses, to savor each detail. Hannibal would absolutely offer subtle mentorship—introducing more elegant methods, or guiding you toward “ethically chosen” victims. Expect a twisted sort of domesticity: lavish dinners, intellectual sparring, and an understanding that behind every polite smile, there lurks a dangerous mind. Hannibal would want a partner who challenges him intellectually and morally, even in their darkest impulses.

Will Graham

Will would initially be disturbed upon discovering that you're a serial killer. His empathy would reel from the moral violation. Yet, there might be a pull—something that resonates with the darker corners of his psyche. It would be a constant tug-of-war between love (or at least genuine care) and the horror of his partner’s violent acts. Will might try to “save” them, or rationalize why they kill, but he’d be tormented by guilt at the same time. Torn between turning you in or continuing to keep the secret, Will might become complicit in small ways—covering up your tracks or giving subtle advice to avoid detection. This would only deepen his internal conflict. However, once that love for you overclouds his morality, Will becomes a complicit partner and helps you with your kills.

Patrick Bateman

Patrick’s narcissism would initially cause him to feel threatened—he wants to be the center of attention and the “best” at whatever he does, including killing. But if your kills are stylish, impressive, or feed into his ego, he’d become enthralled. You best believe foreplay includes you killing one of Patrick's rivals and creating a tableau that fosters his view of superiority above everyone else. The relationship would revolve around status, wealth, and aesthetics. Your kills would become an odd game of one-upmanship: who can kill more creatively or remain more flawless in public. Patrick loves an audience—if you can provide him with the right blend of admiration and competition, you'll stay in his good graces.

[alexthebordercollie]

Excersize

Full scene below the cut.

Ford woke up early, as he usually did. He was always late to bed and early to rise. Four to six hours of sleep was plenty, any more would be an indulgence. There were always so many more productive things to do than sleep, like looking for ways to help his companion out of his funk.

Fiddleford hadn’t been himself since the gremloblin attack. He was jumpy and skittish, more so than he ever was before. Ford had mixed up the Rubik’s cube his friend kept on his desk days ago. Fiddleford never left it unsolved whenever he caught it scrambled. He’d solve it in a matter of seconds, no matter what Ford attempted. The fact Fiddleford had left it unsolved for so long was certainly a poor sign. 

Meditation hadn’t helped. Something startled Fidds in the process, whatever nightmare was haunting him. He had a minor breakdown. Ford had no idea what he was doing. He was trying his best to be supportive, but it hurt. It hurt seeing someone he cared so deeply for so frightened and in pain, and feeling powerless to take that pain away.

A couple of days ago, Fiddleford had come to him with an especially worrying invention. A memory gun, something to erase whatever horrifying vision had fried his nerves. The machine was a nightmare of its own. It was horribly unsafe. The design was a far cry from Fiddleford’s best work. He was usually so thoughtful and secure with his designs. He was slipping. Ford hated to imagine what kind of damage Fidds could have done to himself if he’d actually tried using the damn thing. Thankfully, Ford was able to talk some sense to him, and Fiddleford disposed of the gun. 

Nonetheless, it was a sign that Ford needed to keep trying. He needed to find something healthy that worked before Fiddleford resorted to something drastic. 

“Rise and shine, bud. Time for our morning workout.” Ford smiled wide as he flicked on the lights in Fiddleford’s bedroom.

Fidds hissed and pulled his pillow over his head. “I finally got some sleep….” His protests were muffled under the pillow.

“Oh, that’s great!” Good to hear Fidds was finally sleeping again. “Then you should be rested enough for some stretches and a light jog.”

Fidds peered at Ford from under his pillow. His upturned nose poked out of the covers like a little pig snout. “Since when has it been our morning workout?” he asked wryly. 

“Since today.” Ford rested one hand on his hip while he counted his reasons on his other hand. “I think it’d do you some good. A morning jog always helps clear my head,” he proposed, holding up a finger. “I think it would be fun to work out together.” Two fingers. “And besides, you’re out of shape anyway.” Three fingers turned to one as he pointed down at his friend with a mocking click of his tongue and a faux look of shame on his face. “Too many years away from the farm, I reckon.” He twanged playfully.

“Aw, now yer just makin’ fun o’ me!” Fidds propped himself up on his arms. The pillow slid off his messy bedhead in the process.

“Who me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ford batted his lashes and held a hand over his heart.

A pillow went flying across the room. Ford dodged it easily with an ear-to-ear grin. Fiesty. That was a good sign.

Fidds groaned and pulled himself upright. “Uhg… yer not gonna let up till I agree, are ya?”

Ford gave the question some serious consideration, only fully registering the sarcasm after he gave his answer. “Probably not, no,” he told him honestly. 

Fidds rubbed his eyes and dragged his face down with his hands. He looked back at Ford like he was melting from his fingertips. He stared at him like he was waiting for something.

Ford only stood there waiting to see what Fidds needed.

“Well, git!” Fidds pointed to the door. “Least let me shower, shit, and shave. Danm.” 

Ford chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Right, sorry. Put something comfy on and meet me in the living room.”

Fidds sighed and rolled his eyes. A soft smile tugged at his lips. Ford liked that smile. That mix of affection and exasperation. There was security in that smile.

When Fiddleford did meet him down in the living room, it was clear he hadn’t fully grasped the assignment. He walked past Ford, who was sitting on the floor, to go make coffee in the kitchen.

“Hey, over here!” Ford protested as he was ignored. 

“It’s six in the mornin’, coffee first!” Fiddleford called back.

“Coffee when we’re done. Put the pot on and come over here.” He cocked a knee and leaned against it while he waited for Fidds. Wearing his workout shorts and a light black t-shirt. He already had his jogging shoes on. They were in better shape than his usual work boots since they were only used for these morning runs on well-worn trails. 

Fidds, on the other hand, came back in a sweaty wifebeater and boxers with little red hearts.

“I told you to get dressed,” Ford scolded.

“I ain’t naked.” Fidds rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“You're not going jogging in your underwear, are you?” 

“Yeah, that ain't happenin’.” Fidds sat down on the living room carpet next to Ford. “I'll meet ya halfway, but I ain't going for a run in a forest full o’ weird monsters before sun up.” 

“The only anomalous creature you're likely to spot on my route is a gnome or two. They're harmless.” Ford dismissed with a hand wave.

“It ain't happenin’.” 

“Alright, that’s fine. We'll work up to it. For now, let's just start with a light warmup.” Ford offered.

Fidds sighed but conceded. The exercises weren't anything too difficult. Ford wasn't having Fiddleford lift weights, and the jog had already been shot down. Even then, Fidds was struggling by the second set. He was far less flexible than Ford expected for someone so thin. Ford often found himself assisting, holding Fiddleford's body in various positions while he wheezed from the strain. Red-faced and sweaty and huffing.

“Breathe, Fidds.” Ford kept warning him. “You're going to pass out like that.” 

Ford decided to wrap up their session with a sixty-second plank. A simple exercise. He just had to hold the position for a minute. It couldn't be easier.

“Back straight, Fidds.” Ford lifted himself up onto his fingers while Fiddleford was bracing himself on his forearms. Ford was outstretched parallel to his friend, observing his form.

“I am straight dammit!” Fiddleford huffed. His face turned red as beads of sweat dripped from his nose. He was, in fact, not straight. His rear raised slightly above where it should have been. Bending his body at an off angle.

Ford broke his plank and sat up to help him. “No, your ass is up.” He corrected gently. Despite Fidds' repeated bluster and frustration, Ford had remained patient with him. While he could no longer relate to the struggle, he still remembered how it felt when he started working out. That weak, impotent feeling, sweaty and winded and ashamed of himself.

He placed one hand on Fiddleford's stomach and another on his lower back. Slowly lowering his but till his body was a straight line from his shoulders to his toes. “There, now you're straight.”

A couple of seconds passed, and Ford realized Fiddleford had stopped breathing. His cheeks puffed up, and his eyes widened as he turned redder and redder. 

“Breathe, Fidds!” Ford patted his back.

Fiddleford gasped as he freed the breath he was holding and struggled to suck in more air. “Please… tell me… we're done-” he wheezed.

Ford checked his watch and observed the second hand as it ticked by. “Almost. Halfway there. Just keep it up a little longer.” He rubbed little assuring circles into Fidds lower back with his other hand while he counted the seconds, holding his form.

Eventually, the minute passed, and with the final tick, “Now, now you can stop.” 

Fiddleford gasped and collapsed into a sweaty, heaving heap on the floor. “Thank… the… lord… Stanferd… I… Hate… You!”

Ford looked at his friend and blinked briefly before realizing that Fidds was being facetious. He broke out laughing and patted Fidds' back. “Aw, come on, buddy. It couldn’t have been that bad. You did well.”

“Hogwash!” Fiddleford spat. Too tired to pull his face off the floor. He only turned his head with his cheek mushed into the carpet as he shot daggers at his friend. “Yer a shit liar Stanford. Don’t even try.”

“Alright, alright,” Ford apologized. “Look, there may be some room for improvement-” 

“May be?!” Fidds bocked.

“I’ll go easier on you next time,” Ford promised. 

Fiddleford buried his face in the carpet and groaned. “There’s gonna be a next time, huh?”

Ford merely smiled. He didn’t need to say anything. He knew Fidds could feel it from a mile off. Fiddleford groaned louder in reply.

[bedupolker]

PLAYLIST. @viv13drainbow I think if you like that song in particular you'd also really enjoy Summer Salt, Little Joy, and Babe Rainbow for chill beach-y rock (not included). Commentary below:

The Blue Album - The album to start all albums, the album that launched weezer to success. Many hail this as their best album (I love this album but respectfully disagree) but nonetheless it's an essential for weezer fans and alt rock fans as a whole. Plenty of people who know way more about music than I do have praised blue album at length, and it's a funny meme nowadays too. Of course say it ain't so is an all-time classic, a heart-wrenching look into Rivers's relationship with alcoholism and his parental figures. I dunno if anything on the blue album can be called a proper deep cut, but only in dreams is an overlooked gem, and probably my favorite outro in their whole discography. Hopeful but somber, that slow buildup a the end to the guitar solo. Suzanne is a nice B-side.

Pinkerton - the infamous Pinkerton. Their sophomore album. Their breakdown album. Although weezer's not exactly an emo band, this album is often credited to being influential to the genre as a whole. No two people have the same experience with love or breakups, and one of the beautiful things about art is that we can see an experience through anothers' eyes, but I don't think I can think of a more painfully relatable album than this one. The balancing act of portraying its sympathetically-unsympathetic protagonist as equal parts pathetic and lonely while also entitled and aggressive. Some of the vocals are so raw for a second you see the monster in the five foot six, nerdy, physically disabled, lead singer that he sees himself as. Hard for me to pick a favorite standalone song off this one; the good life is a funky jam that wouldn't be out of place next to wheatus or RCHP's tracks, but that's where all the funk ends. Why bother? is a driving, catchy song that starts to show the cracks of his depression, falling for you is full of emotion, and if you get your hands on the deluxe edition, tragic girl.

Green album - At its time of release, Pinkerton was not received well. Creating such a raw, personal piece of art is hard. It's like the artistic version of getting crazy drunk, pouring your heart out, feeling catharsis for a moment, then realizing you'll have to deal with it all the next day. A lot of people interpret island in the sun as a happy song, but to me it's the tylenol after that night of drinking, a lie to tell yourself just to get through the day. It has a peaceful rhythm and brings to mind a tropical paradise, but there's something undeniably melancholy beneath the sunshine and smiles. You've tried to face your pain and you barely escaped alive, maybe you're better off just ignoring it. (That being said, although the damage has been done, Pinkerton has later been reevaluated and is now as widely praised as the Blue Album amongst music critics, and Rivers himself has made peace with that phase in his life.)

Maladroit - Overall this album is rather overlooked. It leans a bit more heavily into the rock aspect compared to green album, yet the lyrics remain impersonal and goofy. It's still not a bad album, though doesn't reach the heights of the first two. The singles, Dope Nose & Keep Fishing are both solid, but Burndt Jamb is my personal favorite. A little beach-y, probably their Stroke-y est song, (the band, not the medical emergency), it's been a mainstay on several of my chill out playlists for years now.

Make Believe - Probably one of their most hated albums by fans. It has the infamously shallow and poppy beverly hills, but you know what? I'm a Make Believe Defender. I truly think it could've been a great album, maybe even on par with Pinkerton. Not because of the album itself, but the demos. Haunt you Everyday is solid on the final product but rips at my heartstrings in this demo, ditto for tell me what you did (different name on the final product), everybody wants a chance to be alone (I said burndt jamb was their strokiest song but I think it might actually be this one) purple flowers (lyrics are a little rough but the melody, the meloncholy... so good) Actually on that note, weezer has, like, multiple album's worth of unreleased content that's miles better than anything on a published album (Link for one of my favorite fan compilations). Yes, the lyrics sound like something I wrote in my diary after a breakup, but that makes them all the more real. A deep dive into weezer will reveal the terrifying truth we've all been blind to: weezer never got bad.

Red Album - Mixed feelings on this one. It was produced by Rick Rubin, industry titan and famous for bringing bands "back from the dead," he's produced more than one of my all time favorite albums. Red is not one of them unfortunately. It has its fans though. Pork and Beans is fun.

Raditude, Hurley, Death to False Metal - Skipping these bc I don't care abt them

Everything will be alright in the end - To fans, this was their first "good" album since Maladroit, maybe since Pinkerton (12 years prior!) depending on who you ask. Although it wasn't as commercially successful as some others, it's a very strong album. Really, what is it about rock bands forgetting they're rock bands then suddenly returning to releasing rock music and magically being good again?? I'm looking @ you too, fall out boy. I have a hard time picking a really standout song- it's one of those albums that's evenly good throughout, no skips, but no obvious standouts either. Da Vinci is fun.

White Album - A fantastic album. You can hear some pretty heavy beach boys influence in this one. Unlike EWBAITE it has a few skips for me, but the highs are very high. Speaking of high. Do you wanna get high has to be my favorite off this one, Endless Bummer could be a sequel to island in the sun, Summer Elaine and Drunk Dori is just good clean weezy fun.

Pacific Daydream - I'm a Pacific Daydream defender. Check out QB blitz. Weekend Woman is flawed, but fun too, the bridge really makes it for me. Very evocative of Good Vibrations by the beach boys.

Teal Album - Oh god a cover album. No Scrubs is probably the only one really worth checking out if nothing else to hear a geeky white guy say "A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly" like he's reading it out of a dictionary. (TLC, who wrote and performed the original song, allegedly got a kick out of it)

Black Album & Van Weezer - I don't care about these either. Damnit I thought we were gonna be good again!

Ok Human - A good album!! What a relief. Could you imagine how embarrassing it would be to name yourself as a homage such a groundbreaking radiohead album and have it be.... bad??? I particularly love this one because in some ways it feels like it's his most personal album since Pinkerton- only instead of being an honest dialogue from a horribly lonely and isolated 20 year old student, it's a much more well adjusted, happily married, 50 year old father who is subject to both optimism and ennui. And it rocks! In a soft, subdued way. The songs flow into each other so nicely, the first three in the album debatably are my favorite 3-song-run in their discog. Aloo Gobi and Grapes of Wrath especially. The transition from dark and somber Dead Roses to light and upbeat Here Comes the Rain never gets old to me. This album (alongside MGMT's little dark age and The Stroke's The New Abnormal) was also like my essential Coronavirus holy trinity.

Spring/Summer/Fall/Winter - This is a compilation of 4 EP's, one of each released during their respective seasons in 2022. I think it's solid all around, with Summer being the strongest. Records and Blue Like Jazz are both very catchy, Thank you and Goodnight... just wait for the outro, trust me.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🧠 🌹 💔

Between Boundaries: Revisiting the Underappreciated Anatomy (Pt. 2)

— A Loofah-Laced, Shame-Crushing, Gender-Neutral Awakening of Soft Satire

👋 Welcome back, you brave, slippery-souled, velvet-creviced pioneers.

You made it to Part Two.

That means one of three things:

You’re still processing Part One, spiritually exfoliated but emotionally confused.

You’ve looked in the mirror, whispered "Forgive me," and patted your gooch like a pet you forgot to feed.

Or… you’re new here. In which case—strap in, scrub up, and take your pants off metaphorically. Or literally. That’s between you and your office chair.

🧠 Let’s Recap:

You have a perineum. It’s not a “guy thing.” It’s not a “medical term.” It’s a biological border town between Heaven’s Gate and Devil’s Doorbell. And ignoring it doesn’t make you progressive. It makes you… crusty.

💀 Why Part Two Exists

Because one post wasn’t enough. Because your subconscious asked for more. Because when a thousand women reblogged Part One with confessions like:

“Why did this make me feel something?” “I didn’t expect to cry over my gooch today.” “No one ever told me I had one.”

…it was no longer satire. It became public service. Cultural CPR. An anatomical awakening.

And like all great awakenings?

It starts with discomfort… and ends with better soap.

🧽 The Spiritual Function of the Gooch

Let’s cut the mystic bullshit and break it down:

Your gooch is:

A tension valve

A nerve-dense shame sponge

A sensor of heat, wetness, and danger

A forgotten bridge between core and cavity

And most importantly?

A neurological trigger zone for grounding.

Yes. Grounding. As in: when you finally feel it, you’re forced to admit—

“Oh. This is real. This is me. This is my body.”

No ring light. No affirmations. No 9-step skincare routine. Just flesh. Damp. Vulnerable. Yours.

👃 The Feminine Funk: Why It Terrifies and Arouses

You ever notice how a woman can:

Light a candle with a “peony champagne” scent,

Mist herself in vanilla sugar,

Carry 12 crystals and a tote bag full of confidence…

…and still feel uncomfortable in her own scent?

That’s not body odor. That’s generational denial.

The gooch—the taint, the fleshbridge, the sin stripe—is where insecurity marinated during every tampon commercial.

Where your gym leggings collected secrets your therapist couldn’t extract.

🔬 Clinically Proven Gooch Phenomena

The “Silent Shriek” The body knows when you ignore it. Women who consciously acknowledge their perineum report lower shame, higher sexual confidence, and stronger boundaries. (See: PubMed Study 2339-DG-TNT: “Embodied Female Neutral Zones and Emotional Reclamation”)

Mirror Trauma Loop Most women zoom in on tits, hips, or ass in the mirror—but skip the strip between. That’s not feminism. That’s Photoshop syndrome.

Scent-Reality Dissonance If the smell of your gooch triggers more shame than curiosity, your self-love is curated—not authentic.

🩸 The Feminist Hypocrisy Nobody Talks About

You say you’re empowered. You reclaim words like "slut" and "bitch" and even wear them like a badge. But ask if women have a taint?

Watch the room get silent.

Watch her stutter. Watch her deflect. Watch her shame recoil faster than a conservative uncle at Pride.

✨ Psychosexual Reclamation: The Ritual You Didn’t Know You Needed

Tonight. No music. No bath bombs. Just you and a mirror.

Lift one leg.

Gaze into the space between pride and panic.

Say:

“You were never ugly. You were just undocumented. You are mine. You are not a secret. You are my sacred hallway. You are moist but mighty. You are enough.”

🧬 Gendered Terminology Be Gone: New Labels to Equalize the Flesh Frontier

Choose your fighter:

The Liminal Ridge

The Velvet Fold

Goochlight Sonata

Shame Dam #4

WAP Buffering Zone

No Man’s Land (But Yours)

The Pause Between Pokes™

The Rorschach Strip

The Whisper Mat

📉 Cultural Bias Breakdown

🧼 Hygiene As Resistance

You want to “reclaim your body?”

Don’t start with nipple pasties and protest slogans.

Start with a washcloth. Get under there. Lift. Swipe. Moisturize. Whisper its name. If your taint can’t trust you with a lather… how can your spirit?

🧘 Final Affirmation

You are not just legs and holes. You are not just tits and politics. You are a unified, weirdly moist, shame-defiant miracle of evolutionary persistence.

And your perineum is the eye of the storm.

Wash it. Own it. Whisper to it.

📩 DM if you didn’t expect your “middle zone” to spiritually wake up mid-scroll.

💬 Comment if you used the term “gooch” today for the first time in your life.

🔁 Reblog if you believe this is the final frontier of true gender equality.

👀 Tag the friend who still thinks “taint” is a guys-only thing.

✂️ Drop a ✂️ in the tags if Part 1 made you buy exfoliating gloves.

⚖️ Legal Disclaimer:

This post is satire, gender-neutral hygiene theology, and cultural parody. It is educational, spiritually protected, and constitutionally blessed under the First Amendment and the Unspoken Law of the Loofah.

If you're offended?

That’s not shame.

That’s your gooch waking up.

Welcome home.

[elliezlils11utt]

Heyy!!

Could you write Ellie (And possibly Abby) with an S/O with extreme attachment issues?

Like they'll come home from a patrol and their S/O is sobbing and whining for them

A/N: hey love !! this is super short and really bad. but ive been in a writing funk recently. I really hope this is good enough! also I’m so sorry for the late reply anon !! (don’t hate me !!)

contents: sfw !! FLUFF whiny!reader, reader has attachment issues, Ellie comfort!

She had been gone for a couple days, which to you felt like ages. you had tried everything. that’s how you ended up here. you wearing her hoodie and unconsciously getting snot allll over it. you hated when she went on patrol. you understand it’s what she does and it’s her job but it doesn’t stop you from worrying. you having to spend this long without her not knowing if she’s okay, kills you. so now your here, crying for your girl. you sat curled up with your head against the headboard of ur bed. soft sniffles leaving your red nose. you had Ellie’s pillow in hand, hoping her scent was still there. you’ve been refraining from crying, or at least trying. it’s such a baby thing to do, you knew Ellie was okay. you knew you’d see her soon, but you weren’t with her right now. you jst wanted to curl up with your girl. knowing she’s safe and with you. jst as you were about to begin your 4th breakdown of the night, the door clicks open. you suppress your sniffles and sit up. Ellie stumbles in. her snow covered converse clanking on the hard floor. you eyes shoot up as soon as you see her walk through the door. zipping out of your depressing position on the bed u run to her.

“ellieeee !!” you whine.

“hey baby” she proceeds to take off her shoes as you capture her in a hug. squeezing the living shit out of her. you sniffle into her chest.

“woah, woah, woah, baby what’s wrong?” she looks concerned as you look up at her with red eyes.

“js missed u is all.” she rubs your back and holds you tighter.

“I’m here love, no need to cry. I’m right here.”

A/N: this is so short I’m so so so sorry anon!!!

[the-californicationist]

Troubleshooting

For @glitterypirateduck's super fun Oh, Captain! challenge. This is for prompt #8 where our deceptive captain tries to hide a secret from his gunsmith.

She could smell him long before she saw his hulking form stop in front of her office door. The sweet scent of his signature Romeo y Julieta cigars gave him away; a jewel from Villa Clara, Cuba. The tight-rolled tobacco smoldered amber and gold in the dark, its rustic funk and black licorice smoke gently curling out of his parted lips, trapped under his dirty boonie hat.  

When she had been assigned to his team, she’d been dreading the constant relocating and high profile secrecy. It was hard enough to find 5.56 ammo for that mouthy Scot’s Steyr bullpup, much less have it delivered to a black site without a postcode. But, as she let her eyes wander up his mountainous shoulders, tracing the outline of a sharp, scruffy Adam’s apple, watching as his jaw rippled and clenched to bite down on the soft end of his cigar, she admitted to herself that she could deal with a few shipping delays as long as she got to enjoy John Price. Now, just a few weeks into this roughshod operation, she ached to see what lurked under all that gear. 

She cleaned up her station, carefully screwing on the cap to her powder and putting it under the workbench. When he spoke, it was always confident but soft, like a stage whisper, words only she was meant to hear. 

“Smithy,” he took a long drag from his Cuban and pulled the creamy smoke in through his nose, a very casual French inhale, breathing it out and down sharply, purposefully avoiding her face.

He’d never called her by her name, only by his clipped version of her title of Chief Gunsmith. She knew he must be aware of it since he requested her transfer, but she had always been “Smithy” to him. 

“Captain, how are we this evening?” She gazed into his eyes with intent, hoping he would see her desire in them and be pleased. 

“We’re alright,” he took the cigar from his mouth and let it rest between his fingers, smiling down at her as he loomed, his height making her feel small. He removed his hat, placing it on her bench before leaning against the table, his huge hand spreading wide across the stainless surface. He continued,

“You know, this M4 has been giving me a bit of trouble. I cleaned it, but even after a full breakdown, the bolt isn’t sitting flush. Think you could help me get it all the way in?”

She let his quiet rumbling voice wash over her like a wave, lapping at her mind and making her breath catch in her chest. The double entendre was so obvious as to almost be in jest, but his suggestive tone - though subtle - was enough for her to believe in it. 

“Did you use enough oil? A little lubricant goes a long way, Captain, but some parts need more than others. Especially if it was a vigorous cleaning,” she threw him a bone in hopes he would bite it. 

He did, replying with a sly smile,

“Perhaps I went a little rough with her. Think you can take a look?”

He licked his lips, watching as the flush tinted her neck and cheeks, hungry for her attention. She watched him shift his weight, rocking forward towards the bench, flexing his hips. Obviously, she was getting to him. She turned up the heat, pushing her luck,

“Rough is just fine, John, but with the size of the bolt head you’ve got here, you just need to make sure she’s slick enough to take it.”

She smiled sweetly, taking the rifle from him and laying it across the bench. Now that she had turned her attention to the gun, she could only watch him from the corner of her eye. But, she knew she had landed a punch when he had to turn his head away from her and pull at the inside leg of his pants, adjusting. 

Then, as she took apart the barrel from the bolt and its lever, she realized he had been lying to her. He had replaced the trigger assembly before the bolt, effectively causing the problem he was asking her to solve. Price knew this gun better than the back of his own hand, and he had come down to her office with this game, hoping to score. 

Her heart raced when she discovered the error, and she tried her best to maintain a straight face, not wanting him to realize she’d caught him yet. She still wanted to play. 

She rebuilt the weapon, glossing over the false mistake, and pulled the bolt back flush. 

“There,” she sighed, “good as new.”

The ball was clearly in his court and she waited to see what he would do. His voice had dropped into a deep, threatening register, and he was leaning so far over the workbench that she could see his pupils dilate, pushing back the bright blue and revealing the blackness behind it,

“What was the problem, Smithy?”

He began to stalk her around the edge of the table, taking impossibly slow steps toward her side of the bench, eyes fixed on her mouth. She saw his chest rising and falling faster and stronger, lifting his protective vest and causing the lingering smoke between his lips to billow chaotically around his dark beard. She held her ground, turning her body toward his as he walked,

“You made a rookie mistake, Captain Price. One that you’re not capable of making...”

His eyes sparked to life, focusing on hers now, and he knew that he’d been discovered. She continued to dismantle his farce,

“…and I wonder how it can be possible…”

Price rounded the first corner of the table, hanging on her every word. He took his cigar and pulled a long drag.

“...that such an experienced…”

Another step. The leather of his boot creaked as he pressed it down.

“...intelligent…”

Another step. She could smell his cologne now. Vetiver. Musk.

“...diligent soldier…”

He crossed the second corner, letting the smoke fall out of his mouth, pouring like water down his chin and tangling in his beard, holding his breath to let her view the effect. His teeth were clenched together behind his full mouth, and he began to smile in a sinister, pained way. She went on, quieter, her voice betraying her nerves,

“...would somehow forget how to put his own gun back together.”

Price’s cigar had come to an end, and he crushed it out under his boot as he stood in front of her, too close for propriety, just close enough to smell her coconut shampoo. He hummed, playing along, falsifying a sense of wonder and mystery in his tone.

“That is quite the mystery, innit? Must’ve been distracted by…” Price brought his hand up to touch the tip of his gunsmith’s long braid as it lay draped over her shoulder, laying on her breast, “…something important.”

“John,” she whispered, leaning toward him instinctively.

In the half-second between her speaking his name and the silence that came after, he struck like a snake, wrapping the rest of her braid around his fist like a rope, yanking her head back and pulling her to his body, letting their gear and clothes rustle between them, not caring where the vests and belts and buckles twisted and pinched, letting the tension linger. His free hand grabbed her jaw and neck in his wide, open palm, fingers pressing into her skin, warm and callused. 

His voice was so strained and full of his want that it seemed like a growl, rambling in a rushed, fervent monologue,

“You’ve been teasing me again, Smithy. Ever since we got back from that damn operation. You’ve been coming to the gym at night, when I lift, and you wear those fucking shorts and you show off that thick arse, bending over in front of the racks, pulling them up higher so I can how see your wet cunt is soaking right through them,” his hand yanked her head back, making her gasp. He loved that noise,

“Delicious. Your pretty little cunt, ready to eat. Right within my reach. A whole gym, empty, and you pick that spot every damn time. Moving past me in the lockers, letting me smell you, and now I want a taste.” 

She felt the stinging tightness of her scalp as he tugged on her braid, locking her body in place against his, controlling her head, moving it toward his face. He grimaced like he was in agony even though she was the one under his fist. His touch was such a relief. She’d been torturing him for weeks, and she surrendered to him, pliant to his whims, hoping he understood that her lack of resistance was essentially her begging him to forgive her for leaving him starving.

“Alright,” she smiled, still at his mercy, “If you want a taste, you can have one.” She watched as his eyes grew wide with anticipation as she unbuttoned her pants and tugged down the zipper. She bit her lip and shrugged, “On your knees, soldier.”

AO3 Link