#S-man about to get his entire existence rocked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tteokdoroki · 2 months

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hi hi !! :3 first off ur new theme is soo so cute!! n for your valentines event i wanted to send in one for satoru + an amusement park date as the gift !! you can make it sweet or spicy but i don’t have a specific kink in mind for it so that’s free range for ya ehehe

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. swipe spicy: high on you.

about. boom, it’s a match! satoru gojo has always come up with creative ways to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. this time, he decides to make things a little naughtier atop a ferris wheel ride ( 1.4K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, established relationships, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, also ik ferris wheels don’t exist at amusement parks shuddap!! fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

every valentine’s day you’ve spent with satoru has been unique. different.

for your first, he’d filled every corner of your apartment with every type of flower he could possible find because he wasn’t sure what type was your favourite (he was too nervous to ask). for the second, he’d rented out an entire aquarium for you to walk through and dragging him through each exhibition with pure unfiltered joy. for the Valentine’s Day that he had proposed — your third or fourth, satoru had rented a plane that carried the message ‘will you marry me?’ to fly over your rooftop dinner date. you’d said yes, of course, and every day with satoru since had been a wild ride.

even now, years into your life together, he remained just as crafty and as adventurous as satoru’s gojo had always been.

“s-satoru!” you squeal needily, tucking your face into your lover’s shoulder in a weak attempt to muffle your weak cries and trembling voice. “‘toru please. n-not here. n-not now,” you add when his slender and inquisitive fingers dip past the waistband of your jeans and the scalloped edge of your cotton panties. he’s been like this all day, feeling you up in line for different rides, licking the sugar from your fingers outside overpriced concessions stands dotted across the amusement park he'd taken you to. and now, satoru’s ravenousness has come to a head — with him trying to finger fuck you at the top of the ferris wheel. “p-people are around!”

while typically a romantic spot to watch the world go by, the white haired man has his heart set on making you squirm and cry at the highest peak of the ride. “that’s what makes this all the more fun, right baby?” his digits flex under the rough denim of your jeans in an attempt to get a feel for your wetness all while gojo whispers sinful words against the shell of your ear — hot breath cascading down the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. “relax for me, we’re too high up for anyone to notice. let me make you feel good, yeah?”

your hips buck down against your lover’s hand for a taste of friction — chasing the blistering hot sensation that spreads through your lower tummy once his fingertips come into contact with your swelling, pulsating clit. the very notion of your body succumbing to a few of gojo’s simple touches has him chuckling breathily in your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. you can’t help the instinctual response of your quivering, a stream of wetness gathering in the seat of your underwear too.

“do you think i can make you cum by the time we reach the top?” satoru mumbles huskily, lowering his head to your neck so that he can place hot, sloppy kisses to your exposed skin — contrasting with the night air. tufts of white hair tickle at your jaw, sending you into a fit of shakes and shivers that make your cart of the ferris wheel rock back and forth. “don’t answer that, i know i can.” he’s cocky when he teases you and has every right to be, your thighs twitch apart instinctively to make space for satoru’s hand between them.

he skilfully massages your pretty little pussy even from underneath tight denim jeans, circling in your entrance as it dribbles sweet salacious nectar for him. so much so, that you might soil the fabric of your clothes. if your arousal seeps through, would you drip and gush on all those people below? the thought crosses your might and only serves to turn you on even more — evident in the way you clench around nothing as gojo plays with your empty hole.

“m-mph, satoru,” you hiccup, only tilting your head to face his. your noses nudge slightly, lips ghosting over one another’s while your hot breath mingles. to anyone else — you appear a couple in love, innocently kissing, enjoying a date to the amusement park, and a ride to the top of the ferris wheel. but you’re far from that, and you know it, two delightfully sinful individuals who can’t keep their hands off of one another. “m-more!”

gojo obliges, and you thank whatever diety is up above for blessing him with such magical fingers. two of them slide past your entrance without resistance, stretching your gooey and sensitive walls around their length easily. “hm? what’s the matter, baby?” comes the silver haired man’s lazy response, a sleazy smirk spreading across his plush pink lips at the sound of you squelching around him already. you shake your head at his question, eyes screwed shut since you’re too far gone with the pleasure to answer coherently.

from your side, gojo uses his free hand to keep you nice and spread for him — sapphire eyes glowing in the dark night whilst remaining trained on the way your hips jut down to push back against his fingers inside of you. “god you’re so fuckin’ wet. you really like this, huh? all tbose unsuspecting people below…having no idea that i’m fucking your pussy open right above their heads,” he purrs hungrily and curls his fingers, instantly finding your g-spot because he’s mapped out every inch of your sopping walls and knows them off by heart. “taste yourself for me.”

your lips part on command and tongue rolls out of your mouth to make room for the fingers that have been inside you — sucking on them diligently when satoru presses down on the palette of your tongue. he gets off to the way you taste yourself, moaning around him nastily. you should feel shame and humiliation for acting like this in public, all desperate and needy, but you’re as ravenous and as depraved as satoru is. it’s what makes you a match made in heaven.

with his fingers now tainted with a crude mix of your saliva and arousal, satoru returns them to your temperate and sopping mound — stuffing you full of him once more. he’s knuckle deep in your cunt before you can even moan his name, stroking your insides into the shape of him while you drool syrupy evidence of your arousal into the seat of his palm.

“we’re almost to the top, brace yourself, pretty girl. i gotta see you cum. it’ll give me the prettiest view.” satoru coos to you patronisingly, making sure to grind his wrist against your puffy clit — refusing to let it go unattended. “can you do that for me?”

everything is so sticky and hot, especially with all of the layers of clothes in the way — shielding your dirty act from any onlookers on the ground or in the carts below you. strings of your slick tie satoru’s fingers to your honeyed sex and glue this thumb to your sensitive nub, tucked away between your puffy pussy lips. you claw at the silver haired man’s arm trapped in the middle of your quivering thighs band writhe around in the cart so much so that it creaks with the weight.

you whimper into the cool night air, but satoru lights your body on fire from the inside out — your gut lurching and twisting with an unbearable sense of yearning. “‘m close… think i’m gonna—“ you begin to stutter, bleating like a lamb being sent to the slaughter. you remain at the mercy of your boyfriend’s fast paced fingers, pumping in and out of you with no regard to the painful stack of ecstasy building up inside of you. “please, i can’t hold it, ‘toru,”

“you don’t have to,” your lover tsks in reply, never slowing the speed of his digits stroking at your ribbed walls, slipping and sliding against pleasure spots only he knows exist. “why don’t you let go for me, yeah? there you go. that’s it… just like that and all for me,” satoru’s mouth find yours in the final stretch, sloppy praises whispered against your kiss swollen lips while he rubs over your luscious and equally swollen folds like his life depends on it. “let the people down there know how fuckin’ good i finger fuck this sweet pussy. cum for me baby, i know you can do it.”

each syllable, each impassioned word that escapes him and that he pours into you drags you by the ankle towards your high — and you don’t even try to fight it. once you reach the very top of the ferris wheel, your peak reaches a crescendo. satoru flings himself over you, arm arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you in place in the cart as your orgasm crashes over you in drowning waves. you slip beneath the surface of pleasure, your cunt rushing like a river while you cum all over satoru’s masterful hand with a muffled cry of his name.

“satoru!”

“shh, quiet…that’s my girl, my sweet sweet girl.” he sighs dreamily, fucking you with your fingers throughout your high — only pulling out of your greedy cunt to slap down on it, dragging more spurts of arousal out of you. you squirt through your jeans, onto the metal seat in your ferris wheel cart and all over satoru. who happily praises you through it all. “i bet you’re just drippin’ on all those nasty strangers below. i’m sure they’d love it.”

catching your breath, you tuck your face into satoru’s neck while you come down from your high (and literally too — your cart begins to make its descent back town from the top of the ferris wheel). “y-you’re sick.”

satoru smiles, slow and sexy. “but you love me,”

“mhm, sure,” you quip, somehow finding the energy to pull away from your debauched lover to shift to your knees in front of him — the cool metal digging into your knees. “maybe i love you just a little.”

“only a little? then why are you on your knees for me?” he asks, spreading his legs to make room for you between them.

“it’s your turn, i want to see if i can make you come before we get to the bottom of the wheel.” you say breathlessly and with mirthy eyes, teeth descending on gojo’s zipper while you bat your eyelashes up at him.

celebrating valentine’s day with satoru was always…unique. different…but you’d be lying if you said you failed to enjoy his unconventional methods of gift giving with the person you loved most.

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megumimania · 8 months

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UNGODLY HOUR

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drugs, fluff at the end (i lied!), rapper!ony x black reader, kinda angsty, reader and ony need therapy, mild swearing, unhealthy relationships, somewhat happy ending

a/n: im back after falling off the face of the earth xx this wasn’t supposed to be this sad, sorry x🤗 im clearing out the drafts

ony kept calling again and again, usually you’d ignore it like what you’ve been doing for the past month but tonight was different, so you finally picked up the phone. “hey.” you answered, your voice still groggy from sleep. “hey? it’s been a month y/n, where the fuck have you been!” he said with a slight slur to his words, he was drunk.

“first off, watch your tone when you talk to me and second of all, i’ve been busy.” you replied with a bite to your tone. now you regretted picking up the phone in the first place. prior to your month of no contact with ony, you were his rock. in an industry full of yes men and record labels who didn’t give a fuck about what he did as long as he dropped music on time, you were a breath of fresh air. you were his peace.

so when he’d have a rough day, or was high or drunk out of his mind, you were the first person he called. and you always came to his rescue, calming him down, helping him sober up, hiding him from the paparazzi—but it got all too much. the infrequent bad days became frequent, and his constant expectation for you to be there when he called, meant you lost out on opportunities and relationships, and you slowly began to build some resentment towards him, but that swiftly came down when you realised he was just hurting and lonely.

you were there for him through everything.

you tried to love him from a distance, help him from a distance but that became overwhelming too. you tried to get him help, but that often went nowhere. after a tense argument with him, you went ghost, needing space from him entirely. you still kept up with him on socials though, anonymously of course and it looked like he was doing well—until tonight.

“busy with what?” he asked. you let out a deep sigh before replying, “busy with my life, i have shit that exists outside of you, you know that right?” he went silent for a second before laughing. you were already tired of his bullshit and it hadn’t been five minutes since you picked up. “ony, why do you keep calling me?” you said, frustration evident in your tone. “i missed you ma.” he said his voice sounding hoarse, you felt your heart break for him all over again.

you were sure that you were gonna regret this decision later but you knew that you couldn’t let him be on his own right now, especially in such a vulnerable state. “im coming over.” you said, hanging up before he could get a word out.

—

the first thing ony did after you stepped into his apartment was pull you in for a hug. you pulled away giving him a once over and he looked like he’d seen better days. “you look a mess.” you frowned, pulling him into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “damn ma is that all you gotta say to me, after a whole ass month?” he looked at you in amazement. “just drink the damn water.” you muttered in annoyance.

“so are you gonna give me an explanation to why you ghosted me for a month?” you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “ony man…don’t fucking do this, im not in the mood.” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “do what? im just asking why you’ve suddenly remembered my existence after a month.” you let out a hollow laugh, “i needed space. ”

“space,from me?” ony scratched his beard, not knowing what to say, so you took it as an opportunity to let out all your frustrations at him. “yes, you. ony, you are the most insufferable, selfish person i’ve ever met. you took a deep breath before continuing, “all i’ve tried to do is help and yet you never take it into consideration, hell you don’t even take me into consideration.”

“I do—” he replied. you gave him a deadpan look, “you don’t, instead you end up on tmz or the shade room for doing stupid shit that makes me wonder if you actually care about your career.” ony’s jaw ticked upon hearing those words leave your mouth. he accepted that he wasn’t perfect by any means, but to come for the only thing that he put his blood, sweat and tears into was a slap in the face.

“so why did you come back?” he said quieter than intended, his eyes slightly glossy from the tears.“ i thought time apart would do us good. you needed to work on yourself and on your music, plus i just didn’t want you to rely on me like that again.” you tentatively step closer to him, caressing his cheek. “ony, i genuinely love and care about you but we can’t do this anymore.” you said, your voice wobbling slightly. “you need to sort your shit out and i can’t help you do that any more.”

the tears came out of nowhere and you gave up on trying to stop them. “I should go.” you said sniffling slightly as your eyes, “i don’t even know why i came here, i should’ve stayed at home.” you grabbed your keys and your phone and was halfway out the door, when ony called out for you. “y/n…i’ll go to therapy, anything! but i just can’t lose you!” he begged, the desperation evident in his voice.

“that’s nice.” you said, wiping your tears. you wanted to believe him so bad but you knew him like the back of your hand, this was one of his lies that he’d make you forget about in an array of large gestures and kisses until the next time he spiralled and flipped out on you. “ony, we both know how this is gonna end up.” you swore that you saw his spirit break at that moment, all the fight he had build up, slowly left as his shoulders sank in defeat.

you left his apartment shortly after, before his sweet words could coax you into thinking that things were gonna be alright, that he was gonna be alright. you expected to leave his apartment with some sense of relief but grief ate away at you, you missed him so much and you hadn’t even reached home yet. you mourned the relationship that you had with him, the relationship that could’ve been if he’d just sought out help that he needed.

you got home as the city began to roar up again and tried to move on, it was hard considering that memories of him were scattered all over your apartment, invoking a wide range of feelings from anger to immense sadness. you knew that moving on wasn’t simple especially when you had such a complex history with him. a life without ony, was a life that was going to take some adjustment to but you were to take it one day at a time.

#vina writes #vina writes: aot #attack on titan #aot x black!reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot angst #writing angst is a nightmare #ony angst #x black fem reader #aot fanfiction #black writblr #attack on titan x black reader #aot

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orisquirrelking · 2 months

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Loved the Dude kissing headcanons, I was twirling my hair the entire time and kicking my feet🤭

What's the ideal date for each Dude?

Ideal Dates for each Dude!

Congrats everybody btw. movie dude is now part of the full roster!

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P1/Redux

You’d think that he would prefer to stay inside all of the time, but you’d be incorrect. P1 is a big fan of what he likes to call “Real Nature,” where it’s just you, him, and the elements. He prefers the quiet compared to the bustling of the city, it helps him focus. He’ll bring a picnic set with a mat, utensils, the whole shebang! He isn’t the best cook but he’ll throw together a few cold-cut sandwiches for the two of you to snack on while he talks to you about everything and nothing, just content that you’re there and listening.

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Oh, he has NOT dated since his (ex) wife. Not much for fanciness, though if that’s what you’re into he’ll begrudgingly take a shower and throw on some (stolen) nicer clothes. P2 will probably take you somewhere he himself enjoys. It’s his way of saying “I give a shit!” P2 loves it most when you just kind of.. exist with him. Walking champ? Washing the dishes? Autism be damned, he’s working the grill? Dude just wants you near him, even if that means binging shitty reruns in his trailer.

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Dates? He’s got them planned down to a T. Doesn’t mean they’re going to be the greatest, but it does mean that he’s daydreaming about places he can take you. He’s generally very aloof about dates, often just showing up at your door, gesturing to his shitty car. P3 loves taking you to new places the most, genuinely enjoying the surprised and delighted expressions on your face as he pulls up to weirder and wilder places. He just really likes spoiling you, and if he can, he will.

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P4’s ideal date is going to your place and taking a nap. I'm serious! P4 is big on touching, and whatever gets him closer to you is ideal to him. He loves planning movie dates with you at home, where the two of you put on a shitty comedy and lay on the couch together, his head in your lap. He just wants you to play with his hair as he narrates everything he hates about grown ups, or how he hates the uncanniness of old cg animation. He just likes being inside and cozy sometimes.

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BD/Alt Dude

These two cannot agree on a proper date for you for the LIFE (lives?) of them. BD’s ideal date doesn’t include the other dude, and vice versa. And yet, somehow, they make it work. Ish. Well, not really. Their ideal dates that don’t involve each other respectively are a night out at a club (Alt) and dinner and a movie (BD.) They begrudgingly compromise whenever you (Semi) jokingly threaten to leave and go home, and the three of you settle for cooking together. They wouldn’t admit it, but they like this much better than going out.

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Movie Dude

Oh this man is an absolute SAP. bar the “I blew up Paradise” incident, he’s an absolute sweetheart. He loves diner dates, where the two of you can pop into the same almost run-down hole in the wall diner and everybody automatically knows your order. He’s going to be corny with the way he asks you to go out though, no simple texts or phone calls for you. Many times you’ve awoken from a midday nap to your phone ringing, the voice message simply saying “look outside!” and a very enthusiastic dude holding some slightly wilted flowers, throwing small rocks at your windows.

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#oris writes #postal dude x reader

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secret-engima · 8 months

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Kumo Thoughts

So this will hopefully be quick but the most common take I see for Kumo in the Naruto fandom is that it's a overly militaristic hellhole (pardon the language) that kidnaps and forcibly breeds any bloodline it can get its hands on and like.

I get it?

the Naruto ninja world is absolutely messed up enough to accommodate a village like that. Especially with- *waves at Kiri*, *waves at ROOT*, *waves at Ame*, *wa-*. But I feel like personally I think that's. The shallowest take? Like if that's how you wanna world build it! You can! Lots of angst and interesting subterfuge down that way.

But we seen in canon that shinobi who live in Really horrible villages do tend to go missing-nin en masse; Kiri is the poster child for this, but Iwa and Suna both have some ... pretty noticeable defections. On the flip side the only REAL Kumo missing-nin we see, iirc, are the Kinkaku brothers.

From The First Shinobi War.

Like- what are things we know about Kumo *really* from the show/s?

and the one everyone harps on in worldbuilding- they tried to kidnap Hinata and Kushina.

HOWEVER. The rest of the things we know about them are:

2. Their Raikage is allergic to doors. He refuses to acknowledge doors. He can and will smash through any wall, window, or other non-door entity in order to exit or enter a room when at all possible. This is not the behavior of a Strict Rigid Militaristic Man this is the behavior of a feral gorilla someone stuffed in an office and expected to do paperwork. Which, granted, A is fully capable of doing his paperwork, by all accounts he's actually really good at running his village. But again. This man is allergic to doors or manners and anyone who is willing to arm wrestle Senju Tsunade to get medical assistance for his own men can't be all bad let's be real.

3. Killer B exists. I feel like he alone is enough evidence against the "military breeding program hellhole" fanon but to break it down. This "brother" of A is not actually his brother. In canon, B is literally just- *some kid*, AT BEST a cousin of the previous Jinchuuriki but that is not confirmed iirc, that was among several other kids that were all lined up and told "we need a new Jinchuuriki and A needs a fighting buddy, run at this training dummy and see if you can help him decapitate it" and when B was the one who succeeded they went "congrats you're his brother now, here's your complimentary octopus monster". And like everyone just accepts this? Not a SINGLE person calls B as a fake brother or points out that he and A are not actually related. Not to mention B has the strongest and most stable relationship with his Biju until Naruto and Kurama work out their bromance, and B was rocking that friendship with his biju *years* before Naruto even knew Kurama was a Thing That Existed.

4. B is also beloved by his village. BELOVED. The people adore him and his weird rapping nonsense. And yeah there's flashbacks in the anime to that not being the case when he was first introduced but B was actually able to work on changing their minds. You really think "small feral child rapping at civilians to make them warm up to him" would have flown in Kiri? In Iwa who canonically keep abusing their jinchuuriki to the point of running off? Nope. No sir. B is also allowed to have a team of his own, and seems to not only be an accepted member of the village but also a much trusted and beloved one who is even allowed his own team? Even Konoha doesn't have that good a track record lbr. It took Naruto face punching the guy who just committed genocide on the entire village for Konoha to go "you know what? We like you now".

5. One of the only other jinchuuriki we see that has fully mastered their Biju state and is on good terms with their Biju while also not being a missing-nin (or brainwashed and then immediately dead) is ALSO a Kumo ninja. Namely the holder of the Two Tails. Now on the wiki it says that she was put through a "detestable" training program but we all know how inconsistent Kishi is with... everything worldbuilding ever. And if we go off behavior alone from the brief scenes with her, Yugito Nii is?? Really stable??? And solid with her Biju??? She gave her pawprint for an Uchiha child's book of cat paw prints for crying out loud.

6. throughout the entire show, Jinchuuriki are consistently treated as the lowest class citizens. In basically every village. Naruto in Konoha, Kushina cried when she realized Minato was going to make Naruto a Jinchuuriki and put him through what she went through growing up as one so you know she didn't have a great time either, GAARA is his own entire dissertation on Jinchuuriki treatment and stability, Fuu was raised by the village leader of her village but had zero friends and was canonically super lonely and isolated, Han and Roku straight up ran away from Iwa because of whatever they were put through, a maneuver only repeated in another village by Utakata from Kiri. But in Kumo we find two jinchuuriki who have mastered their biju, are well respected by their peers and fellow citizens, and are basically treated like any other really weirdo ninja from the village barring needing to be monitored with bodyguards in B's case, which is mostly because he keeps running away to go train under rap artists so you can understand why A is ready to go frothing at the mouth feral at his brother sometimes.

All I'm saying is that if even the village's "monsters" are treated that way, why does everyone stick with the fanon that they're a breeding, bloodline stealing hellhole?

Imo it would be WAY more fun to world build Kumo as the feral mountain ninja-mandalorians of the Elemental Nations, who have a reputation for bloodline theft because they keep finding Actual Strays, Refugees from other villages, and Illegitimate bloodline children and going: YO ANYONE GONNA ADOPT THIS? and not waiting for an answer. Your a missing ninja from Kiri and you're fed up with both them and missing-nin life and want to come work for us? Great. Oh you also have a valuable kekkei genkai that can be inherited? Awesome have you heard of our red light district and child support program or better yet our tax deductible program for marrying one of our lovely civilians and raising a family here where no bloodline purges will ever happen ever. Oh you're a stray Uzumaki on the run from bloodline hunters? Well we may have been involved in destroying Uzushio (depends on your fan interpretation since canonically we do not know which villages did that other than Not Konoha) but we also have hot food, good housing, high ninja standards of living, and free weekly entertainment in betting when our Raikage is going to launch his desk at his brother like a high speed missile because B's rapping got too cringy.

Let Hinata's and Kushina's kidnapping either be the exception to their usual playbook of how they acquire bloodlines (hey it's not their fault if the other villages can't keep it in their pants/can't inspire loyalty) OR have it be seen, culturally in Kumo, as something more akin to a rescue mission. Yes these two girls are useful and have useful bloodlines, that's tactically wise, but also have you SEEN how Konoha treats their jinchuuriki? They have seal master princess and are treating her like a dog on a leash! And literally everyone knows what the Hyuuga do to their own kids if they aren't main branch, and we can't rescue any of those kids without their eyeballs exploding and them dying but hey we can snag the heiress and then any kids she has won't have to be branded so-.

Like I feel that would be so much more INTERESTING? Instead of having Konoha be the only "nice" village and make this weird tonal dissonance for how the "nice" village has the most incompetent leadership (Sarutobi) and underground atrocities (Danzo and Orochimaru) while every other village is Horrible All The Time For Everyone why not have Kumo be actually Really Functional and treat their shinobi and Jinchuuriki well and their horrible reputation is *mostly* (not entirely, because. Ninja.) be cultural clashes between the feral mountain ninja and Everyone Else and propaganda from the other villages who would like their shinobi to STOP DEFECTING TO KUMO PLEASE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVE DENTAL.

Seriously I feel like there is so much more you could do with that angle than just "yet another shinobi village that is Bad and Awful and Needs The Power of Friendship yet somehow has this really stupid goofy jinchuuriki man who loves his brother and his village shut up don't think about it".

#Secret Engima Rambles #naruto #naruto worldbuilding #ninja economics #naruto economics #kumo #naruto kumo #long post

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chycoin · 2 months

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HUGE SPOILER AHEAD!!!

Watch “TRASH FRIENDS” before reading. If you haven’t watched it and still read this, pls don’t say I didn’t warn you 🫠👍

Just watched “TRASH FRIENDS” and the thumbnail really made me think this was going to be an episode focusing on the way Mario has been treated by Smg4 and his friends (at least that’s how I see it) but I wasn’t expecting an episode about Smg3’s insecurities and fears (mostly insecurities)

I really was caught lacking because I was expecting something and I got the opposite lmao. I should be familiar with this guy’s content already and know that the only thing expected from these episodes is the unexpected xD, but anyways back to talking about the video.

In previous episodes we see that he gets a little bit of customers such as in the episode “You used to be cool” and “CEO OF RIZZ” but in this last mentioned episode he tries to advertise his café after Boopkins’s date works out in the end and so does the same in “SMG4’s NEWS.”

At first you think “Maybe he wants more than what he has” but after watching this episode you realize he’s actually struggling with his business and last weeks episode you change your view from his actions and see him as more desperate rather than greedy after watching this latest ep.

Constantly trying to get more people into his café and taking every single chance he can see to advertise no matter the place or time, like life depends on it.

And talking about chances ._.xD

(This goober losing the video to a basketball, I’m dead😭)

Smg4 comes to this guy’s café for his help to get his “Michael Jordan Endorsement Video” back because boi lost it and he wants Smg3’s help because their “FRIENDS”

Of course Smg3 saw this as a chance to advertise his café because HOLY SHIT MICHAEL JORDAD!!! A famous basketball player that anyone would want to have the chance to meet and that’s a chance that Smg3 is willing to take because it means his business would BLOW UP *someone throws them a chair*

Btw when Mario shows up to offer his help, I expected Smg4 to be more happy that he has his avatar buddy always trying to help him but instead…

Don’t get me wrong, I know they got a little weirded out about the fact that Mario is a regular around the Junkyard due to him eating at that location but still, that dialogue still sort of hurt me man qwp

But anyways back to my review of this episode and giving my acoustic povs that nobody asked for.

They arrive at the junkyard and after being there for 5 seconds, they find the legendary pokemon that goes by the name of “Michael Jordan Endorsement Video” (sorry for my weak ass jokes, I just woke up and my humor is a little broken rn)

After having the video on sight, Mario pulls a Yoshi and beats the crap out of the spaghetti plate where the video so happened to land on, in one go. Obviously, causing the other two to try and force the USB out of him but both failed as Mario did a BLJ through the trash and forcing 3 & 4 to dig through everything to find him.

Now… the part I was dying to talk about and hopefully I can let out my thoughts the proper way.

As the two spend an entire evening just digging through trash, they start a friendly conversation until Smg4 touches the Smg3’s CnB topic which causes Smg3 to get nervous and lie about everything being fine because he has something that every human being has unfortunately, ✨I N S E C U R I T I E S✨.

Which I understand because bruh, 3’s been seen as a bad copy of 4 who’s the total opposite of him for a good piece of his life, if not his ENTIRE existence and now that’s he’s going through a change in his life for the better, he’s going to face a lot of these insecurity episodes because he’s so used to being seen as the bad guy, the bad copy, The Villain. Always people seeing what 4 does and never looking what 3 does which got him into that dark path.

Is like the Sun and the Moon kind of thing. The Sun (Smg4) can shine the brightest while the moon (Smg3) is just a floating rock shining the least. I’ll bring this up again at the end of the review.

But yeah, Smg3 has insecurities and is more shown when they reach the entrance of Mario’s hiding spot.

-Part 2 🫠👍-

#smg4 #smg4 review #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #I wasn’t planning for this to be a 2 part thing

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deansmom · 10 months

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Everytime I point out that Dean Winchester is autistic, people get mad or look at me like I’ve spontaneously grown a second head, as if this man’s existence isn’t just checking off boxes for the diagnostic criteria

Special interests: westerns, cars, mechanical engineering stuff in general, 1960’s & 70’s music - specifically classic rock, monsters. You’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s totally normal for someone who was born in 1979 to have borderline encyclopedic knowledge of two decades of music????? Hundreds of years of monster lore??? — for fuck’s sake, he had a train thing when he was little!!!! Those are special interests!!!!

Restricted diet: it’s mostly for Jokes but dean genuinely doesn’t eat much beyond burgers, diner food and pie.

Dean didn’t speak for months after Mary died and there’s 15 years of canon evidence where he loses his voice during moments of Big Emotions!!! He’s going nonverbal!!!!!!!

Trouble with social cues: literally look at every single instance of Dean trying to interact with strangers, ESPECIALLY in the early seasons. He’s not playing dumb, he just doesn’t get it. Also, watch any scene of this man TRYING to flirt and tell me that he’s any good at it. You know why? That bitch is mimicking the fucking movies and tv shows he grew up watching.

Sensory processing disorder: DO YOU THINK HE WEARS 87 LAYERS FOR FUN???? FOR FASHION????? WHAT DID YOU THINK ALL THE FLANNELS WERE ABOUT. THEY’RE SOFT. Also think about how much he liked the nightgown and the robe. ALSO, ALSO: school!!! It’s loud, it’s smelly, it’s dirty (his germ thing), the lights are too bright, there’s too much sensory input happening at one time. Between being so overwhelmed in school that he couldn’t focus and John pulling him left & right for cases and Sam, no wonder dean dropped out :(

14.04. The comic book episode is an ENTIRE episode about dean and his special interests!!!!!! And his social anxiety, hiding out in his room at the beginning of the episode because of all the strangers in his home 😤

Emotional regulation problems: those angry outbursts?? Destroying the Impala??? LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THATS NOT A MELTDOWN

His whole personality is a mask! He based his whole life and personality around the men he grew up around! John, Bobby, the other hunters - we all know that dean isn’t this rugged manly man he puts on. Sure people can have layers, but my man literally wore his dad’s actual jacket for fucking years

Black & white thinking: this doesn’t need anything else tbh

Strong sense of Justice: “how many people do you have to save?” “All of ‘em. Whole wide world of sports.”

Literal thinking: half the show is about how they both have to learn to look at monsters and not immediately go “monsters bad.” Also literal thinking is hard to explain, but I promise he does this.

Hyperlexic: “what? I read?”

“Too blunt”: all those times you thought “that was kinda harsh Dean” or “wtf that was so mean” - he doesn’t like lying to people when he doesn’t have to!

Hyper empathy: “The baby in the well? My bad.” “I do my best to be brave.” Sacrificing himself for people over and over again. The djinn episode and the speech he makes in front of John’s grave. His whole life he’s been told he cares too much!!!!

As a fellow AuDHD bitch, the most AuDHD thing Dean has ever said was “we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous.” Also: “I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.”

Like I could dive into the nuances of all of these and explain them in great detail and find textual evidence for basically everything, but it’s too early in the morning for that much work when I know that I’m right. Yeah he has adhd, obviously, but I will eat my left hand if that man isn’t autistic.

#why do you think him & Cas get along so well!!#hilariously I don’t necessarily agree with the hc that Cas is autistic bc he’s just an angel with no context for all these things #but he’s like Spock! allegory or whatever for autism so ofc him & dean immediately vibe #also you think Charlie was allistic?!?! be so fucking for real rn #you think an autistic lesbian would intentionally befriend a heterosexual (allegedly) neurotypical yt man??#[slams fists on the table] YOUR HONOR DEAN WINCHESTER IS A HIGH MASKING AUTISTIC AND I WILL NOT BE TAKING NOTES #personal

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xopinkroses · 2 years

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Oh boy this one is kind of heavy but I'd like to see Sparda men (and maybe some other dmc characters if you want) reaction when their s/o unfortunately get into a situation that the guys have to mercy kill them. You can skip this ask if you don't like

DMC boys Being Forced to Mercy Kill Reader♥

Summary; Something terrible happens to you, leading to Dante, Vergil and Nero having to make the most painful choice of their lives. Warnings; Death, mercy killing, heavy heavy angst, swearing, descriptions of blood and fatal injury.

MASTERLIST🌸

Dante

How could everything go so horribly wrong in just a few seconds? You're laying in your bed, the one you both share, and you're crying. Short sobs of pure agony as your blood burns like acid through your pulsating, discoloured veins. And all Dante can do is watch. Watch and know that there is nothing he can do for you. Too afraid to even touch you.

You were infected with something while fighting a demon, too slow to dodge the spray of poison it projected to you. The effects were almost instant, and Dante knew instantly how this was going to end.

There is no cure. No hope. Sitting by your bedside, he knows what he should do. But he doesn't have the strength to end your suffering. He's a coward, he can't deny it.

But how can he be expected to do such a thing? To… kill the person he loves most. How is that fair?

You're not stupid. You know that your chances are nonexistent. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I love you."

The only thing you could feel other than pain– is guilt. You did something incredibly stupid, and now you were going to have to leave Dante all alone.

Your words do nothing to comfort your distraught boyfriend, serving only as a sick reminder of what he is about to lose. Somehow making this even harder.

He rocks back and forth, hugging himself like he's physically trying to hold himself together. "I love you too," He manages to say, voice shaking with the spasms in his chest. "Fuck– I love you so much."

"Please, can you hold me?" You don't want to die alone, all you want as a last request is to die in the arms of the man you love.

Dante finds his resolve in the finality of your request, and carefully scoops you up into his arms. The contact hurts, but you cling to him anyway. This is your last moment together. You want to imprint the feeling of him close to you into your memory, something to take with you when you go.

Dante finally lets his tears fall now that you are unable to see them. He places a kiss to the top of your head, allowing himself to just be here with you as you cry into his chest. His hands brush up your neck to hold the back of your head. You don't see it coming.

'snap'

Your body goes limp in his arms. Head lolling unnaturally, swivelling on a broken neck, to fall against his shoulder. He can't look at you, knowing lifeless, hollow eyes will be the thing staring back at him.

Dante screams, but you don't hear him. You can't.

Vergil

The scream that rings through the clearing has Vergil freezing in his tracks. He turns around just in time to see you suspended in midair– impaled through the abdomen by one of the demon’s clawed tentacles. Time stands still and all he can do is watch as you weakly struggle against the pain, a waterfall of red splashing into puddles below you.

Then the demon yanks itself free of you, and you come plunging to the ground. Vergil is already moving before his thoughts can even catch up with the events unfolding. He catches you before you make contact with the ground, gently lowering you down as he cradles you in his arms. A numbness has settled inside of him, and he’s grateful for it. There’s no way he can handle this otherwise.

“Hold on,” He says, an uncharacteristically pleading tone to his voice. “I will return for you.”

Stepping away from you, his demeanour is one of ice cold fury, a raging storm that could rip up entire civilisations out of existence. In a haze, he makes quick work of the demon that did this to you. The sound of his own screaming failing to reach his ears– all he hears is an echo of your cries. They only begin to quiet down when the evil being’s insides are splayed out before him. But with it dead, Vergil has no choice but to look at you.

You haven’t moved, he notes, looking you over in a detached kind of observation. The colour has drained from your skin, having bled out from the gaping hole in your midsection. The area around you has turned dark crimson with your blood, it seeps into the earth and surrounds you like your very own hellish aura.

Willfully ignoring the squishing blood-soaked dirt under his knee, he kneels down beside you. His face is grave as he looks you over. Any other person would fail to decipher the emotion on his face, but you know him too well.

Vergil’s heart is actively being cracked open, and it only shatters more with your next few words. Only a few… but enough to haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.

“Vergil, honey,” You croak, coughing. “Please, make it stop.”

Vergil has always been able to compartmentalise his emotions. Tuck certain things away to deal with later, he forces himself to do this now. He agrees to grant your final request. The word ‘yes’ tasting rotten on his tongue. With an unbearable heaviness in his bones, he slowly straightens up to his full height.

He’s stalling for time as he looks down at Yamato in his clenched fist, skin stretched white over bone. One swipe is all it’ll take, he muses. Just one.

“May we meet in another life, my love.”

He gives you no time to prepare for the blow, making it quick. Your life snuffed out in the blink of an eye– Along with his very soul. You were struck down in the heat of battle, a true warrior's death. Vergil wishes that fact could bring him any comfort. But there is no comfort for people like him, only pain and suffering. For him and the ones he cares about.

What a sick joke, he thinks as his composure breaks and an anguished sob tears up his throat.

You deserved so much better.

Nero

He’s in a living nightmare. One that he wants nothing more than to wake up from. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want to do this.

“Please wake up! Please wake up, please!”

His hands are sticky with red, clutching onto your cold, limp figure as he sobs into the crook of your neck. The Red Queen is tossed a good few feet away, blade covered in blood. Your blood.

You remain unresponsive in his arms, but beyond all logical reason; Nero tries to convince himself that you’re just sleeping. You got knocked unconscious during the fight but you’re fine. It’s not your blood– it’s not! But he can’t, because he’s all too painfully aware of the events that just transpired before his very eyes.

He didn’t want to do it. You gave him no choice!

You were possessed, he later learns. You didn’t want to hurt him either. But right now, all he knows is that his lover launched themself onto the blade of his sword after trying to kill him. Impaling yourself and ensuring you couldn’t hurt him again. He can’t process his thoughts through the panic, the guilt and the begging. Begging for forgiveness, for you to come back, for anything.

This is how his uncle and father find him, screaming and crying hysterically, holding you in a desperate embrace.

“You’re okay, angel– everything’s gonna be okay–”

Knowing they can’t leave him there, alone with the corpse of his lover, Dante and Vergil have to pry his hands off your body and drag him away kicking and screaming. He curses at them and pleads for you to answer him. But you don’t.

You’re dead.

And Nero will never forgive himself.

~ 🖤

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dmc x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #nero x reader #dmc imagines #dmc headcanons #dmc

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uaremyjae · 3 months

Text

My thoughts on my One Piece journey and How it’s affected me 🩷

This is going to be long ass post lol

I think this is the platform that I never knew that I will ever comeback to but you know because of one piece and deprived of Sanji, Nami & Law content, ✨ here I am 😁✨ *shamelessly comeback after abandoned tumblr for good 11 years lmao*.

Anyway, I just want to let out my thoughts on my one piece journey and how it affected me. So bear with me. This is only place I can talk about One Piece because other platforms I had is related to kpop * Yes I’m a kpop fan. HEAVY ON NCT. Neo Got My Back.*

I know about one piece way back when I’m teenager. It’s just I don’t start to watch it/ read it somehow?? Idk why 🤷‍♀️ I’m also confused to as why because I did grew up watch anime like FMAB, Naruto, Bleach, Black Butler, K-On, Fairy Tail on tv. HECK I EVEN WATCH THE LONG ASS DETECTIVE CONAN TOO 😭

I think it’s because back in the day ( 2010 - 2017 ), I had lack of access to internet and not exposed to the series at all. Besides the local TV station here, only aired Naruto ,Bleach and those anime I mentioned . *I’m just 24 years old btw*

So around September 2023, I came across to One Piece content on TikTok and funny enough it’s Brook edit! I was so intrigued with this character and little did I know I watch a bunch of One Piece clip here and there on TikTok. To be fair, I am basically spoiled myself that time 😬 but I’m the type dgaf if I got spoiled because I won’t remember at all later on. 🤷‍♀️

So I decide to start watch it. First few episodes, my reaction was like “ Okay Luffy is an interesting guy🧐his body stretches and always smiled! He got damn hands tho ngl”. Zoro, my reaction was like “ahaaa SO THIS IS ZORO THAT EVERYONE KEEP TALKING ABOUT. Quite a Stud.”

Nami, interesting female character that I can relate because I like money 🤑 and her backstory is so sad. Ussop is also another character I gradually love over the time!

Then COMES MY HUSBANDO, SANJI. Man I have a thing for a man who can cook and looks good in suits. Sanji really makes me having my first anime crush ever! I DONT HAVE A CRUSH ON ANYONE IN NARUTO & Detective Conan but One Piece made me have one 🤧 *The upgrade from loving a guy that exist but doesn’t know you exist ( haechan,jaehyun & jaemin bb i luv you guys but Sanji 😮‍💨) to loving a guy who are not exist on this plane of earth 👀*

Little did I know I start to binge watch it. First day of watching, 30 episodes in 6 hours. 10 days later I already watch 325 episodes . but the show is so good! The story telling that oda created really hit home to me and the foreshadowing & lore he created makes me hooked unlike other story that I have read & watched.

Here’s the thing, to me every anime that I watch, I never like finish it . Sometimes I would just watch last ep and called it the day. This is not only apply on anime, it’s apply to western shows, my own local shows & k-dramas. So One Piece truly like solidified their place on my heart. I finally can understand why one piece are so loved for decades!

Also during those times, I hit rock bottom too. I quit my job because I was falsely accused for stealing shit at my work place and being discriminated by my ex-boss due to being the youngest one for my entire work.( everyone else was in their 40’s ). That time I was desperate as I need some money to achieve my bucket-list and want to lessen the burden of my family. Lord heavens knows what I’m going through, got death threats by that mf. Twisted the truth that causing my whole family cut ties with her severely. From there, I felt so stress and worried.

So One Piece is my way of escapism and it’s been a beautiful and exciting journey. Compared to last time, I took a 7 months breaks from works due to burn out & anxiety, this time it doesnt took long for me to overcome those situations and my “year-end blues” that I called is not as bad as before. I also has been actively try to get a job asap so I can buy an Ipad as I want to start learning digital drawing again after watching one piece.

One piece teach me it’s never late to start a new journey towards your dream! I used to dream to be a graphic designer or animators but my family don’t want me to be that. They want me to have that conservative jobs like working in government, an accountant etc. so essentially I gave up those dreams so I can make them proud of me. It’s been bothering me for so long as I felt like I should have go for what I want not what people want. At the end, I abandoned my accountancy knowledge and worked as an admin & a baker which I found a lot more less stressful that being an accountant. I guess what people describe after knows me personally being a confident, free-spirited & rebellious is just the way I am. AND oddly enough One Piece is just perfect manga & anime for me!

At this point, I already caught up with anime. I’m a weekly basis anime watchers now. I also has caught up with manga too. It’s been a huge revealing & fresh experience of One Piece for me. I felt like I being myself again! It’s weird but it’s the truth! I never felt so at ease and being seen. I just want to do what I want. It’s just fitting fate for me to be a One Piece fan!

That’s all what I want to say… if you really read this till the end. Thank you!

#one piece #I’m lucky to found one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #ussop #sanji #tony tony chopper #PEOPLE SHOULD START WATCH ONE PIECE FOR BETTER LIFE! I’m being real here!#soul king brook #franky #jimbei #nico robin

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terrence-silver · 6 months

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How would 80s terry feel about being beloveds first kiss and significant other? Love your writing, some of the best I’ve read♥️

Part of Terry Silver would be convinced untouched, kissless virgins ceased existing as a concept around the time of the First California Gold Rush.

Okay, all jokes aside --- but then again, am I joking? Am I really? It's the 80's, the decade widely considered one of sex, drugs and rock and roll, and Terry Silver's own hedonistic, upper class lifestyle might lead him to believe, that hey, while people aren't all necessarily debauched (mainly because he's convinced they, unlike him, they simply can't afford it and people who can't afford things view life's pleasures as sour grapes, which, wooptie-doo, for all he's concerned) they still aren't as sheltered and as irrationally pure as to be entirely devoid of basic experience because, knowledgeable and analytical as he is, he doesn't figure that's realistic. Until he finds one devoid of basic experience, yes. As such, discovering beloved is like discovering a rare, improbable gem. Or a new continent! Quite literally. He isn't sure if he'd tease them for it, test if they're a liar even though he knows they're not (but hey, why deny himself the satisfaction of prodding and poking anyway?) cruelly laugh at them, laugh at himself for being so lucky to stumble upon them first, seduce them slowly, quickly --- allow them to beg to be seduced, play this fully seriously and pretend he's much less experienced than he really is to appeal to them or just claim them and ruin them for everyone else? Perhaps, all of the above? Like, this is the type of stuff money can't buy. A kissless virgin who's never felt the touch of a hand? A caress? Stroking, salivating, heaving and thrusting? Giving and submitting? Being guided, molded and taught? Open to opportunity? All opportunity? Good, bad, the very worst and the very best all at once? A blank canvas he can fill with anything he wishes? My goodness, he's hit the jackpot! He loves that. He loves it so much! He's a kid in a candy shop. Like, he'd be manic and enthusiastic concerning the prospect of, oh, I don't know, all the things he could possibly do, to the degree he ain't sure what he wants to do first.

You have to understand --- this is a man who has everything.

So, something he doesn't have? Or hasn't had before?

It's always alluring.

Someone who's suspectable and teachable? A wide-eyed innocent? Uncharted, untouched territory? Someone who's never known anything unless he's demonstrating it to them? A trust he can use or abuse if he so deems it? He can show them unimaginable sights and then discard them for it's own sake, deliberately, as an act of sadism, to let them wander desperate and heartbroken or he can take and devour them in the most selfish, possessive way imaginable. Perfect. Even more alluring. Options are endless. He wants them and he'll have them because he's decided already he's the most fitting person to show them everything. It's the Sensei and teacher in him that cannot resist the opportunity. It's the greedy Capitalist in him, meanwhile, that cannot resist just collecting the rare and the beautiful. So, beloved gets collected too. Like a once in a lifetime bottle of old vintage champagne or an unique piece of art only he has and nobody else --- and they get savored. Time and time and time again. So, how does Terry Silver feel about beloved never having had a significant other prior to him, going as far as to have never really kissed anyone before?

Oh, baby, he feels elated and as feral as one can get.

The World's truly his very own oyster.

Not that he ever doubted it.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; virginity #tw; innocence #tw; corruption #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #80's terry silver

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hh0320 · 2 years

Text

𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥;

part three of the velvet opiate series. part one, part two.

pairing: rockstar! hyunjin x reader (+ minho, felix, chan)

word count: 4.6k

genre: visual gothic rock band, romance, dark smut, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s.

warnings: profanity, mature themes, drug & alcohol abuse, foursome, unprotected sex, filthy talk, light bdsm play, light sadism.

🏷: @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @svintsandghosts.

tunes: radiohead (go slowly), mareux (the perfect girl).

Recordings for the new album lasted for a month and a half.

In those forty five days, none of them could move an inch away from the studio, without Joon breathing down their neck, threatening to kick them out the band. Some nights they would sleep in there, dreaming of riffs, and melodies.

Felix had lyrics. But lyrics were nothing but pretty poetry without the music, and Velvet Opiate were not looking to sell books—Chan was very aware of that.

He hadn’t been sleeping properly, if at all. Notes came to him organically, he could get inspired by anything, had a natural talent in song making, and got paid good money to keep it up—yet, he was fucked.

They needed a title track, and all they’d made so far were B sides. And it was on him. It was his fault, because he was so busy running around saving his band mates from themselves, that he’d had no time to sit down and produce. The one thing that was truly of any significance, for them, but to him, especially, solely.

Bang Chan had his music, entirely. Without it, he was just an entitled clown with a drum kit. The company needed a title track, and he’d provide, even if it killed him.

Nothing else mattered.

“From the top!”

The four of them inwardly groaned, fingers raw, sweat dripping from their hair. That was the fifth time they had to repeat that damn song, and they were fucking sick of it.

“Jail would be better than this,” Felix muttered under his breath, throat dry.

Minho chuckled, discarding his wet, sweaty shirt, bass propped on his thigh. His hair stuck to his forehead, dark circles around his brown eyes; he looked like he’d escaped hell.

Maybe he had, Hyunjin could never tell with his older friend.

“What do you know about jail, sunshine?” The purple haired man asked, sarcastically.

Felix rolled his eyes, a devilish smile on his lips. “I know that I’d drop the soap for you, handsome.”

Minho smirked, leaning forward. “All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.”

“Please stop flirting, it’s making me fucking nauseous,” Chan interjected, a disgusted look on his face.

Hyunjin laughed, going through the tabs. “D’ you think they’ve already fucked, Bang? The tension is palpable.”

“He wouldn’t be able to handle what I give, doll face,” he concluded with a wink, and Hyunjin shook his head, smiling.

“What are you into these days, anyway? Satanic summonings?” Felix widened his eyes, in emphasis.

“Boys, get serious,” Joon said, through the microphone, on the other side. “Again.”

“Lix, shut the fuck up, before he ties you to a goddamn cross.”

Felix pft’ed, while Hyunjin started playing the intro of the new song. “He wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” Minho warned, staring at the singer. “Careful what you ask for.”

Felix swallowed hard, and started:

‘His eyes were heavy

He carried a gun…’

Minho was bored.

His whole life, it seemed, was a mundane routine of waking up to uneventful days, eat, breathe, piss, fuck, repeat. Such was the mortal existence; to have your little time on earth, and then fuck off to whatever afterworld you believe in.

How mediocre—plain. Lee Minho refused to succumb to the monotonous, the tedious. That is why he joined Velvet, that’s why he is the way he is.

Tragic fucking backstory aside, since who the fuck really cares, Minho won’t blame the orphanage beginnings, or the loveless child trope that he’s carried throughout the years.

Juvie at fourteen, mental rehabilitation institute at sixteen, the freezing streets of the capital when freshly eighteen—could he condemn his bad luck? Ignore the responsibility of his fate?

Minho was many things, indifferent to everything, numb to surprise and pain, but he had a sense of responsibility for his actions—he’d never inconvenience anyone, especially the people he associates with the most, because of his own self destructive tendencies. His personal life was his, and his only.

That was the kind of picture Lee Minho painted. A rational one; a competent, sane person, albeit a little unreliable as a narrator.

Some called him a heartless son of a bitch.

Alas, no one was perfect.

It was well after midnight, a Friday on their second week of recordings, when they spotted the fans they’d been warned about.

They were waiting patiently on the side of the exit door, girls in their early twenties, masks hiding their faces, giddy eyes searching for their beloved artists. Joon had given them black caps, and advised the band to keep their heads low, and wave.

Felix broke first, but he later swears it was only because of their long time fan, and founder of his fan club, holding out a gift for him. He hugged her, and signed some pictures for her next giveaway.

Felix was like that—thoughtless, whimsical. It wasn’t exactly a fault, Minho thought, though Chan had reprimanded him quite a bit for his capricious actions.

That night, Minho had a craving. It was an urge, a thirst he couldn’t shake off. And what Minho wanted, Minho had—absolutely.

His gaze had caught the brunette on the far left of the group. She noticed him looking at her, and lowered her eyes immediately, succumbing to his intense stare.

She’ll break easily. That was fine by him, he wasn’t searching for a challenge, not tonight.

A nudge and a knowing look to his bodyguard, and he entered the van after Hyunjin, who’d nearly ran there.

He texted, ‘and her friend,’ to his not so little helper, and smirked down at the screen, feeling Hyunjin’s curious eyes.

“Fuck me,” the blonde boy rolled his eyes. “Just fucking—keep them quiet, will you? It’s a hotel, not your goddamn torture chamber.”

Minho chuckled sinisterly, watching everyone get in the vehicle. It was somewhat unfortunate he didn’t have his…toys with him, but if he was being honest, his patience had ran thin after all the work stress, and not being able to be at the comfort of his own home.

He just needed…release. And they’d have to fucking do, for now.

“I make no promises, doll face.”

Felix turned to that, confused. “Wait, what?”

“Shit, Minho don’t fucking tell me—” Chan started, annoyed.

Hyunjin snorted, lighting a cigarette. He could hear the girls yelling goodnight’s, and I love you’s, and absentmindedly smiled at the words.

“It’s true,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaning back against the seat. “Minho’s gonna bless our ears, and get his dick wet.”

“Charity work, boys. You’re welcome,” the perpetrator finished, amused by the attention he was getting.

Chan groaned, while Felix scrunched his nose, wanting to retaliate.

“We’re gonna get kicked out, again. Fucking watch.”

Hyunjin had gifted Minho a pair of Vivienne Westwood pearl earrings for Christmas. It was her original design, and he’d gotten them as a last minute thing, a thank you for all the times the older boy had covered for his ass to their manager.

Hyunjin would follow Lee Minho inside a burning house. He would, if only to see what invisibility truly was. Minho was deathless, a distant form of a man that got away with everything.

His cunningness, his endearing personality that made you blindly follow him to the edges of the sharpest cliffs—where Hyunjin would free fall, searching for any kind of high, Minho could convince people to jump in his place, manipulate them into thinking they’ll be okay once they reached the bottom.

You had to really know the question mark, to know the fairytales it spewed. And Minho did tell a lot of stories. It depended on the kind of person you were—what you did and did not deserve to find out. For some, dragons have been slayed, princesses rescued—others know of the tales of the cavernous forest; about the tough fight against the darkness, how it stole everything, fed on his soul—

How he lost that soul, and what it cost him in the end.

There were a lot of stories, all of them fake. What was Lee Minho in his essence—a con man, hiding inside a thousand mirrors, each one containing only an echo of the small, scared boy he still was, deep down.

Hyunjin caught a glimpse of those earrings, dangling in the bright lights of the long hall leading to their rooms. Hair shining an intense purple, Minho disappeared behind his door, voice lost and now trapped against the four walls, no doubt a warm greeting to his guests for the night.

Chan was leaning against the railing, smoking one of his rare cigarettes. If nicotine was involved, Bang Chan was fucking stressed. Valid, considering.

“I’m worried about him,” he admitted, running a hand through his silver hair.

Lighter already in hand, Hyunjin copied his band mate. He stood next to him, silent for a while, wondering how could anyone worry about a snake.

The level of danger depends on the kind, but most snakes are adaptable, secretive creatures. They shed their skin when they’ve outgrown it, are reborn stronger, stealthier. A snake cannot truly die. If Hyunjin had to guess, Minho would be a saw-scaled viper, quick to attack, so you never see him coming.

He could survive anything, because he always put himself first. No exceptions, unless specified.

“These walls are paper thin.”

Chan sighed. “I could fucking care less about that, I’ve seen him fuck and get fucked forty different ways. I’m talking about his coping mechanisms—” he lowered his voice, glancing around.

Joon had their entire floor cleared, so it was only the four of them staying there, but some things Velvet Opiate kept close to their heart of hearts, never daring to speak about them out loud. It was an unwritten rule.

“Ever since his accident, her death—he’s never been the same again. I couldn’t possibly know what the fuck he’s thinking now, if I ever did back then.”

It was true. Minho had been in a fatal car accident, a couple years back. He ended up with several broken ribs, a fracture, and a broken leg, but the truck had come into impact with the passenger seat first. His then girlfriend was pronounced dead as soon as the paramedics arrived at the scene.

Perhaps, his most severe wound had been her passing.

The band had gone on hiatus for three months, and Minho didn’t once leave his house during the entire time, except to attend the funeral. And that had been a horrible thing in itself—the freezing cold mask he wore accepting condolences, the ghost that’s followed him ever since.

Lee Minho is the burning house. He’s been in flames ever since he was four years old, and the fire has only grown worse overtime. Hyunjin could only hope he knew how to put himself out before it was too late.

But wasn’t he the same way? Didn’t he also have a time limit—a certain amount of fuck ups before it was game over? What the fuck did he know?

Hyunjin exhaled smoke, nodding at the words his friend had said. “You have to walk through the pitch black darkness, to come through the other side.”

Chan finished his cigarette, shaking his head. “Hyun, he’s fucking drowning. You two are more alike than you think.”

The two boys looked at each other, brown on brown. Hyunjin could see the effort it took for Chan to be this vulnerable about his thoughts—he’s always been the crutch, the lifeboat.

The glue that held everything together.

“Maybe you could pull each other up,” he said, patting Hyunjin’s shoulder, and turning to walk to his room, three doors down.

Hyunjin would follow Lee Minho blind. He mused over the stick between his fingers, slowly turning into ashes, how it would always burn, always reduce itself down to the butt—there was no other outcome, no other way.

Predictable. That’s what Hyunjin was becoming. Inevitable.

He thought of you, and the way your skin felt underneath his own, how your eyes looked up at him with the brightest glint, the angel, the untainted. The holy.

You were probably waiting for him at that bleeding bar, wondering how long until he came back to sweep you off your feet. Tasting him in everything, laying awake panting, dreams of him stuck on your eyelashes. He hoped. He wished.

The damned have their prayers and their credulous hopes.

How expected of him to be this weak. Unsurprising.

What other fucking way does Hwang Hyunjin know, except the dark, thorny one? Except the mud, and the monsters, and the hopeless fight?

There’s only one story for him.

He gets up, knocks on the white door. Pearl Vivienne Westwood earrings greet him, an insouciant Minho blinks at him once, and moves out the way.

Hyunjin enters.

The lighting was dim, atmospheric.

One girl was tied on the headboard, the other on the floor, on her knees waiting, gaze downwards.

Both naked.

Hyunjin momentarily wonders if they were aware of Minho’s sexual preferences. Judging by the girl on the bed, her content face, he decides they probably don’t even care—too happy to be near their favorite idol.

Minho nods over to the vanity desk, thin white lines laid out, a credit card, and a bill next to them. A bottle of whiskey was open, three glasses empty around it.

This was the scene. The car accident, the neon lights, the siren. The death over and over—the self destruction was a suicide. The eventual joining, on the other side.

Hyunjin was familiar with this best of all, because he’d been guilty for it too. Only for him, there would be no rejoicing, no motive. No reason beyond the high.

Minho had moved to the mattress, sitting next to the gagged girl, that had been whimpering and fighting against the restraints. He spoke low to her, almost a whisper; his mouth was sinful, his language filthy.

“How wet is your cunt right now, love? Sprawled like a fucking whore for us. It’s what you wanted, right? To be fucked by a couple rockstars?”

The woman’s thighs rubbed against each other, no doubt aroused by the scenario.

Hyunjin had his eyes set on the submissive one on the floor, though. She had made no move, no sound, ever since he’d entered. She remained perfectly still, deliciously compliant.

He hadn’t used in three weeks. That was a record for him, though he couldn’t entirely put it on himself—everyone’s been micro managing him, monitoring his every move. His phone had been taken from him, all contacts removed.

He hadn’t fought it—he’d actually wanted to give sobriety a try, if for nothing but the sake of the band. But Minho had seen right through him, apparently, had spotted the beast inside Hyunjin, and promised to take care of it.

How expected of him to be this weak. Unsurprising.

Cocaine wasn’t his drug of choice, but anything is food to a starving man. He snorted a line, and rubbed his nose.

Then got close to the girl. Her hair was long and black, a curtain around her face. Hyunjin got on one knee, lifting her chin with his thumb.

Watery eyes stared at him, innocent and willing. Like yours.

“You’re being so quiet, sweetheart. Such a good girl,” he praised, taking in her body.

Perky breasts, tiny figure, hands balled into fists on her thighs. It wouldn’t take long at all—this girl was already broken.

Hyunjin loved broken things. There was no reason to be careful with them, at all. He fisted her hair, inspecting her reaction. She blinked at him, lips parting.

“You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you, pretty girl?”

She nodded weakly, never once breaking eye contact. Oh, she’s fucking done this before alright.

His other hand slapped her cheek, once. Softly, testing the waters. She flinched closer, but there was no pained look, no widening of the eyes. Just plain, unfiltered desire for more.

“Turn around, on your hands and knees,” he ordered, unbuttoning his shirt.

It was a split decision, her mouth opened—

“Can I touch you?” She regretted it as soon as she said it.

The second slap was harder, his palm leaving a red mark on her pale skin. She bit on her lip to keep from crying out, and scurried to get into position, afraid of worse punishment.

Hyunjin had no limit when it came to this—he would take it as far as his partner was willing to go, no second guesses. It was the only thing that gave him control, the only thing that truly gave him pleasure.

Feeling someone physically and mentally submit to him, connecting through inflicting pain on them… he’d been wired that way, it seemed. Violence got him fucking hard, the detachment, the deep emotions of the one receiving—the sweet release. All of it was incredibly arousing.

You had been the only exception, in all his years. With you, he wanted to take his time, defile you slowly, take care of you properly.

You were his angel, untouchable otherwise. You were different.

He pulled this girl by the throat, bringing her back flush against his own naked chest, mouth next to her ear.

“You’re fucking helpless. This is for me, and only me. You better keep fucking quiet, and take it, do you understand?”

She nodded frantically against him.

“Now, what’s your safe word?”

“Burn. It’s burn.”

Burn… This fucking girl.

“A true fan,” Minho commented, amused.

He was fucking the other girl’s mouth, both hands holding her face still. She was struggling to breathe, a slobbering mess, but there was no voice to her.

“I wrote that song, beautiful,” he winked at Hyunjin’s girl, and she blushed, before going back down, position resumed, lesson learned.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he slapped her ass.

Sliding two fingers in her cunt, he found it soaking wet. Cursing, he fucked her like that for a while, making sure she’d keep to her word and make no noise. Her face was pressed against the carpet, arms barely holding her up.

He grabbed them, holding them behind her back, and removed his fingers. She clenched around the loss, juices running down her milky thighs.

What a fucking slut.

Hyunjin entered her roughly, using her arms to get deeper inside. She screamed, and then apologized immediately, her whole body tensing up, waiting for punishment.

“Didn’t I tell you,” he groaned, drilling into her, “to keep fucking quiet?!”

The girl on the bed was crying by this point, Minho relentlessly pounding her ass, hands still tied, a black scarf covering her eyes. It was like he was deaf to her screams, not present, as his movements quickened, her knees giving way, falling flat on her face, and yet never once shutting the fuck up.

Hyunjin glanced at his friend once, noticing the stoic expression, the hard lines of his mouth. He wasn’t there mentally, he was dissociating. It was what usually happened when Minho was high—he had no restraints, no way to stop, not unless he got what he wanted.

“Get on the bed,” he pulled his girl’s hair, slipping out of her.

She tripped, but did as told. He circled an arm around her waist and placed her right next to the moaning myrtle. The need to gag her was overwhelming, but Hyunjin knew Minho left her like that on purpose. To block his mind; static noise.

He slammed back inside her, cunt now a sloppy mess, lifting her legs over his head. Holding them with one hand, he fucked her brutally, exorcising the thought of you.

Minho stopped, as if awakening suddenly. The girl came hard, spasming violently. He pulled her up by the throat, and bit her shoulder.

“Join them. Let me see you.”

The two women started kissing, completely fucked out, while Hyunjin continued his pounding—close, so fucking close. Eyes shut, you’re there, a vision in black, red all around, getting fucked by him against a wall, like a fucking whore.

His whore. Hyunjin holds you up, your cunt heaven, a church he build to hide inside, praying to your name on his knees. Important, bigger than life, your half naked frame filling his mind, driving him over the edge.

“Burn! Burn! Fucking burn, fuck!”

He spilled inside her, growling, head falling on her stomach. She shook him off, pulling away, wrapping her arms around her knees, exhausted, tears streaming down her face.

You’d hate him for this. But you didn’t understand, yet. He’d make sure you never found out.

“All yours,” he says to Minho, getting off the bed.

“Don’t be scared, kitten,” Minho reasoned with her. “You didn’t think we’d go easy on you, did you?”

Hyunjin quickly slipped into his pants, remaining shirtless. He saw as Minho tamed both women, his voice level and soothing. It’d be a long night.

Pouring himself a drink, he downed it in one go, lines tempting him again. But he could already feel his high, and he really could care less about cocaine, so he left, right as Minho took out a vibrator—

Kinky motherfucker.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Minho called out to him, as the door clicked shut.

For the first time in his life, Hyunjin listened.

Back in his room, he showered off the sex smell, and sat by the window smoking, clad in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms.

He thought of you. Your scent, your soft hands, the way you reached for him. The way he’d scared you by attacking that scum. It’d been too long since then, and his need to see you, to touch you, only grew stronger.

But his life was a golden cage, and he remained a prisoner. Hyunjin had the least freedom of them all, and he had nothing but his addictions to blame.

Grabbing his guitar, he played through random notes, smoke burning his eyes. His fingers settled over a strumming pattern, and he repeated it, a faint melody coming together.

Hyunjin went through it again, and again, building on it, the music descending on his heart, painful and familiar. Reminiscent of the way you said his name.

He hummed along, and where lyrics failed, they now came to him freely, devastating.

‘I tried counting

Her smiling pain…’

He shot up from his seat, cigarette long forgotten, hanging limply from his mouth, and run out of the room, two doors down. Chan’s door was always open, because he never fucking slept.

He was in front of his equipment, free styling on the keyboard, when Hyunjin burst in and stood in front of him, grinning from ear to ear.

Chan squinted up at him. “Are you high?”

Hyunjin shook his head, guitar in hand. “Never mind that. I got us the title track.”

At that, the silver haired boy’s eyes widened, and he leaned back in his seat, intrigued.

“No shit. Never thought I’d see the day, Hyun.”

It was true. Hyunjin never wrote songs—there’d never been anything inspiring, until he met you. And he was so sure of you, his brave girl, so enamored by what you showed him, by what he felt.

“It’s called Knife.”

Chan gestured for him to sit on the bed. “Let’s hear it.”

Hyunjin played.

It was a bit past four in the morning, when Minho’s groupies left. Disheveled, and bruised, shoes in hand, they tiptoed to the elevator like thieves, giggling to themselves.

Hyunjin and Chan were taking a break out in the hall, and watched as they let out similar high pitched screams when they noticed them there.

The black haired one screamed, “I love you Bang Chan!” She looked drunk.

Chan chuckled, waving at her. “What’d he do to them?”

“You want the politically correct answer to that?” Hyunjin asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Never mind.”

They both looked down at the lobby, and met the security guard’s gaze, as the two women passed by him. He probably thought, fucking rockstars, thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want, and he’d be right.

Sometimes they did the most excessive shit for the hell of it. Money and fame gave them the right to do so. What was a hotel’s security guard going to do about it?

Look the other way. They all did.

“What the fuck are you looking at, asshole?” Chan provoked him.

Hyunjin smirked, elbows resting on the railing, letting the scene unroll before him.

“Go back to your rooms,” the guard told him, scowling.

Chan scoffed, laughing humorlessly. “And what if we don’t, tough guy? Are you gonna spank us?”

At that, Hyunjin snorted. Chan had the worst temper of the four, and he loved getting riled up. Shit talking was his favorite pastime, only second to making music.

They had only gotten kicked out of a hotel twice before; once when Minho’s birthday orgy got out of control, and then back when they first became well known, for vandalism. That’d been Hyunjin’s fault—he’d been high as a fucking kite, and decided trashing his room and knocking on every door of his floor, screaming lyrics from their debut song was a great idea.

He got arrested for private nuisance, and fined three thousand dollars for destroying property. He’d barely made it to their first concert in America, and Joon was mad at him for a month after that.

He hoped this wouldn’t be the third, but did nothing to prevent it from happening.

The guy talked in his walkie-talkie, no doubt requesting back up. Hyunjin doubted he’d need extra men, but then again, Chan was known to be unpredictable when messed with.

“What a little bitch. Do you need me to show you, fuckface? Have you ever properly fucked a woman before?”

The receptionist came into view, looking up at them. “Sir, I advise you to calm down, or we’ll have to call the police. Please go back to your rooms, or you’ll be escorted out of the premises.”

Right on time, Minho and Felix came out, curious faces staring at their band mates. Hyunjin sighed, tugging on Chan’s sleeve.

“Do you really have to start shit, Bang? This hotel’s been pretty flexible with us.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Felix asked, rubbing his eyes, looking down at the lobby.

“I’m calling Joon. Chan, fucking calm it, before we’re front page news again,” Minho warned, opening his flip phone.

Chan hit Hyunjin in the back, taking a deep breath, and nodding at Minho.

“You’re right. But let me just—fuck you!” He shouted to the guard, a maniacal smile on his lips.

“Okay, I’m done. Fuck, that felt good.”

Felix laughed, following him to his room. “Fucking Bang Chan…”

Hyunjin stayed behind with Minho, who was on the phone with their manager, explaining the situation.

“So much for laying low,” Hyunjin mocked Chan’s words from earlier that month.

Minho smirked. “We’re Velvet fucking Opiate, doll face. We don’t lay low.”

The blonde smirked back, and put his arm around the older’s shoulders. “Sounds about fucking right, honey.”

“I wrote a song, by the way!”

“About fucking time. We all just thought you’d be a pretty face forever.”

“Fuck you, Lee.”

“Next foursome, doll.”

A week later, the new publication for ‘Nicola’ magazine was out. It was the go to for every teenager in Japan, and Velvet Opiate had been a regular issue on their pages, mainly for their fashion appearances, and hot gossip.

This time it was the latter.

The title read as such: ‘Velvet Opiate fans confess—we slept with the band! EXCLUSIVE’

“Guys!” Joon yelled, reading through the article anxiously.

The band gathered around their manager, peaking at the magazine, curious.

“Fuck,” all four collectively exclaimed.

They were in deep shit.

#ficscafe #straykidsland #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop scenarios #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #kpop smut #mine.

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meet-me-in-the-pouringrain · 1 year

Text

The Phoenix and The Rocket

Chapter 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Emily Prentiss, at the insistent of her therapist, signs up for a trauma bonding site. She never expected that her trauma bond would connect her back to her old boss and the man she’s been in love with for over ten years.

Also the man she’s absolutely furious at for leaving.

Edit : Since publishing I have been made aware that the term ‘Trauma Bonding’ is actually an abuse tactic and doesn’t mean ‘bonding over shared trauma’. Would like to make it clear that was a very strong mistake on my part and I apologise deeply for any offence.

Read Below the cut :)

Days fade into weeks and weeks turn into months.

They correspond on a bi-weekly basis now, as much as Emily's schedule allows them too. The morning after they officially became Buddies, Emily sends an apology message for her drunk rambles and gratitude at his response. Aaron responds in earnest, giving her thanks and dismissing her own, and life moved on. Emily pesters him with questions and he answers them with patience, no issue or frustration on his end. In return, he pokes around her evasiveness and manages to tear down the wall she hides behind, making her open up more than she ever has. To a complete stranger no less.

The last person who made her do that was Hotch, and she feels a pang of odd betrayal whenever she realises that, as if she's betraying him whenever Rocket knocks down a brick.

They really bond over the fact they had false identities forced on them. Aaron shares that it's hard to get out of the habit of Frank, that he has trouble decoding where Frank starts and He ends. Emily offers advice (She's been through it a number of times after all) and insight.

Emily helps him realise that Frank and Aaron can co-exist and they don't need to fight a war. She helps him see that the best parts of Frank are the best parts of him.

In return, he's there for when she has a tough case and advises her on how to take things day by day.

Before, she'd have a habit of ignoring it and putting it off until she physically couldn't and then she'll break.

He opens up about his father, She her mother.

She tells him about her guilty pleasure in Emo-Rock bands, He returns with his passion for 60s music.

Eventually, they're no longer dumping on each other and they’re exchanging food recipes and recommendations and just sometimes messaging each other when they've got nothing to do.

The pair of them feel better about their baggage than they have in years and it truly shows. Emily doesn't snap at Luke or Dave as much anymore, she even stopped overloading Reid's case file. Aaron isn't as argumentative about Jack/Max anymore and only slips up after days in public where he's been forced to call him by the wrong name.

As much as they hate to admit it, Jack and Emily's therapist were right and it did make them better people.

It's 4 months into this exchange that she caves and pays $30 (a criminal charge quite frankly) for the app so she didn't have to open her laptop on the Jet. The website has a policy of exchanging personal details like emails or numbers. Everything has to remain entirely anonymous and there's certain things that'll get them flagged and/or their entire accounts deleted.

Which means that they'd lose contact with each other and neither of them can afford to do that.

It doesn't stop her team of nosy ass profilers noticing her happiness though. As evident by the smirks on JJ and Luke's faces when her phone pings as they leave a crime scene in Utah and she immediately yanks it out of her back pocket.

"Ooo" Luke cooes. "Prentiss has a boyfriend" He sings, climbing into the drivers seat.

Emily scoffs at him like he's the most ridiculous thing she's ever faced as she yanks open the passenger door. JJ is forced to sit in the back when the police officer peels off in the cruiser without waiting for her. "What are you five?" She asks, rolling her eyes. She tilts away from Luke and Jj's wandering eyes as she unlocks her phone.

RocketRacoon : I just had an argument with my son. Peanut butter. Smooth or Crunchy?

RocketRacoon : It's make or break question.

RocketRacoon : Our entire Buddyship relies on this.

Emily couldn't help the snicker that escaped her at the seriousness.

PhoenixPren : Yikes I better think long and hard.

PhoenixPren : Who are we kidding, obviously smooth.

She didn't notice JJ move to stare daggers at her phone.

RocketRaccon : Thank you! Why would you want CRUNCH? IN PENUT BUTTER?

PhoenixPren : Only criminals and serial killers.

PhoenixPren : You spelt Peanut wrong btw

Aaron chortles loudly and unexpectedly at that response. He shakes his head, thinking to himself inside jokes that only he and his old friends would know. He lifts his eyes up and jumps back.

Jack is standing at the kitchen counter, broken arm having been upgraded from a sling to a pliable cast thats been signed with 'Max' over 15 times, with a knife in his hand and a bread smeared with peanut butter. He's staring at his dad with a mixture of confusion and terror.

"What?" Aaron asks defensively, twisting in his seat to just see the wall behind him.

Jack grins then, shaking his head like he knew something. "Nothing" He says coyly.

"What?!"

Jack shakes just head again, biting his sandwich. "It's just" He says behind a mouthful. "I haven't heard you laugh like that." His tone is quiet. "Ever."

Aaron considers his words thoughtfully. He supposed he's right, he hardly laughs anymore. He marvels at his Buddy's way of getting him to do that and comes to the shocking realisation that the only one who's ever made him chuckle like the way Phoenix does is her.

He swallows thickly at the thought before shaking his head and closing his laptop rather forcefully. He moves to help Jack pour a drink, pushing that thought out of his mind.

<~>

“Prentiss has a boyfriend” Luke sings again as they congregate around the conference table and it takes everything in her not to slap the shit out of him. JJ is typing on her phone, glancing up at times with a smirk on her face, and Tara’s phone pings coincidentally. Spencer is in the middle of plotting points on a map with Matt and Dave rolls his eyes.

“Get back to the case” Emily snaps, shoving his shoulder a little as she walks past him to stand at Reid’s map. “So this UNSUB. He takes woman from brightly lit areas, he’s confident. But not too confident to scare them of-“

“So who is he?” Dave interrupts, making Tara snort.

Emily blinks. “He’s an UNSUB, Dave” She replies slowly.

“You’re dating an UNSUB?”

Emily’s hand comes down on the oak of the table, leaving a sting on her hand and echo in the room. Matt actually jumps and spills coffee on himself, JJ’s phone clicks off and Spencer awkwardly turns away back to his map.

“Enough!” Emily barks, expertly hiding a wince at how much she’d hurt her hand. “I am not dating anybody” She hisses. “I am working a case and trying to save the life another another woman. Get back to work!”

“Yes ma’am” A few of them chorus, making her internally cringe. She hates how JJ’s teasing look falls into a professional mask, how Spencer flinches away from her, how Dave even bows his head with a mumbled apology.

She chews on her fingernail as she watched her team work in tense silence. Finally, the boys leave for field work and leave the girls in the room. Emily watches JJ and Tara shoot looks at her out of the corner of her eye for five minutes, both of them trying to discreetly text Penelope.

“If you MUST know” She breaks, yanking her phone out of her pocket and launching it on the table. Tara pulls back and is the one to scoop it up before JJ could lunge for it. She doesn’t attempt to unlock it though and gingerly holds it in her hand. “I signed up to that stupid trauma website.”

“What?” JJ asks, pulling a face. “Wha- that Trauma Buddies thing?”

She vaguely recalls Penelope talking about it to Spencer, saying that she explored it and her heart hurts for all those people.

Tara makes a noise, shoving Emily’s phone back to her. “Oh Em” She tuts, sympathetically.

Emily collapses into Matt’s abandoned chair and rubs at her face tiredly. “Don’t, it’s okay” She sighs. “I mainly went on there to see other stories, my therapist told me to do it.” She shrugs. “I saw this guy and his story is…” Emily huffs a breath with wide eyes. “A lot. So I reached out and we’ve been talking ever since.”

JJ and Tara share a look, a silent understanding of their friend.

Emily thinks about telling them Rocket’s story but immediately forgoes that idea. Telling them would feel like betraying him. Sure he put his story out on the internet for strangers to see but that doesn’t mean she can go ahead and tell some other people what’s his to tell.

No, she can’t betray Rocket like that.

“We get it” JJ says finally, smiling. “I’m glad that you have that.”

Sure, she’s a little jealous Emily turned to an internet stranger than her. But she’s also mature enough to know that a stranger over a phone screen is a lot less intimidating than someone sitting in front of you. She’s also aware that for the majority of Emily’s journey, she had been there for the traumatic moments.

Cyrus where she got hit in the head, That one case where she got into a car accident and hit her head, The other time she got hit in the head.

She’s been hit in the head a lot.

Then obviously Doyle

And finally, Losing Hotch. Not one, but maybe three times. When she ‘died’, When she came back but he had found solace in Beth and when he left.

Of course, they knew about her feelings for their ex boss. Ever since Penelope got her drunk on the green fairy and she blurted it out during a game of Fuck Marry Kill they were all way to old to be playing.

JJ’s not even sure Emily remembers that night, the amount she drank probably kept the run down bar afloat for a day or two alone. She’ll never bring it up in a million years because she knows her friend with just deny it vehemently. But she can’t deny the hurt or anger that flickers behind her eyes whenever someone mentions his name.

Emily smiles weakly. “Don’t tell the boys?” She pleads.

“Oh never in a million years” Tara chuckles, shaking her head. “I don’t think Dave will let you hear the end of it.”

<~>

“Is it a girl?”

Aaron startles in his bedroom, flinching forward. He turns to find Jack standing in the doorway looking awkward.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, frowning.

Jack fidgets with his belt and then his cast for a moment before sighing. “Your laughter before” He swallows. “was it because of a girl?” He asks quietly.

Since Beth, his father hadn’t dated anyone, not that he’s aware of. It’s strange, to Jack, the idea of his father actually dating somone. He supposes it’s only weird because it had been ten plus years since his mothers death, Beth was around for maybe half a year at most.

But still, it’s fuckin weird.

Aaron sighs, looking at him with a hooded gaze. He can’t lie to him. “Yes” He admits, wincing at the way Jack sucks in a breath. “But not in the way you think.” He amends quickly.

Jack pulls a face now. “Huh?”

“We’re not dating” Aaron launches into everything, how Phoenix messaged him after a couple of days after Jack signed him up. How they became buddies, How she helps him with the Frank dilemma, how they moved on and are now basically pen pals. He thinks about Phoenix’s story and ultimately decides against telling his son all that.

Jack’s been through enough, he doesn’t need to know a strangers plight either.

Besides, Phoenix still hasn’t made a public post and he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t filled with sick, selfish satisfaction and pride at the fact he and only he had managed to get her to open up and that he was possibly the only person to know that’s much.

When he’s finished, Jack is grinning smugly. “Told you” He mumbles. Aaron just rolls his eyes. “That’s great dad.” His son grins. “What’s her username?”

“Don’t go looking for her” Aaron warns, glaring. Jack holds his good hand up with an eye roll.

“Relax” He says. “I haven’t opened the site since I dumped”.

Jack’s therapist got him to the website in the first place, that’s how he knew about it. Aaron eyes his son with suspicion before giving in.

“PhoenixPren” He admits finally. Jack pauses for a second, thinking over the name before smiling.

“Okay” He nods.

“Goodnight, Jack” Aaron states, playfully frustrated. “Busy day tomorrow. We gotta start packing up the house.” He tells him softly.

Jack grins. “I still can’t believe you agreed to move back to Alexandra” He says, making Aaron laugh and agree. He was still in shock he agreed himself. Jack yawns and moves to leave. Aaron pulls back the bedsheets to climb into bed. “Hey” He pauses, poking his head back in. “It wouldn’t be so bad, you know.”

Aaron peers at him, confused. “What wouldn’t?” He asks.

Jack shrugs. “You. Dating.” He says before disappearing without a reply. He shuts the door to his fathers room firmly and pads to his own.

Aaron blinks at the wood before a smirk broke out on his face and he chuckles to himself. He glances out of the window. “He gets that from you.” He states with a grin, his eyes following as the leaves in the trees rustle back at him.

On the other end of the hallway, Jack flops down in bed with a grin. “PhoenixPren” He says to himself. “Real subtle, Miss Emily.” He laughs to himself and flicks his lamp off.

Word Count : 2282

tag list : @lonelychicagos @84hotpockets @serqueljisbon @loriprentiss @velvetblackness @castielryan

if you would like to join or leave the taglist, feel free to shoot me a dm ❤️

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch #agent prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #The Phoenix and The Rocket

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anglbrkr · 1 year

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since you asked and im interested.... cockwarming father james in a confessional ;))

aww yeah

CW: yeah ok so not cockwarming anymore, i got too into it and now its just stealth sex, amab genitalia

longer than 1k

no typos exist in this work

2.5k

[N]’s jaw slackens, twitching as he slowly lowers himself onto the priest's cock, his tight ring quivering around it like a velvet glove that wants nothing more than to be filled. His head rolls back against James' shoulder, exposing his euphoria-filled face while his hips buck up into the air in eagerness; gasping softly between each thrust upward, tongue flickering out to wet his lips again before they flutter shut and swallow them once more. It's almost enough to make [N] want to do something other than sit passively atop the gorgeous prick pumping inside of him—he's not entirely sure about doing it in such a place... But then those fingers slide from beneath his chin down his chest, wrapping themselves around his left nipple and tugging gently on it. And so instead of moving aside, or doing anything really except watching the hand squeeze that sensitive little nubbin hard enough to nearly break off, he decides just to give in and enjoy the feeling of being used...

The confessional is small and cramped, and it seems like even his breath echoes throughout it all, but Father James is eager to suggest they do it in here, "We can't get caught this way, no one will come in.." The priest whispers hoarsely as his hands reach for [N]'s hips, gripping tightly and lifting the younger male's ass upwards slightly, sliding his dick deeper within the warm depths until [N] is snug on his lap. James smirks at [N] who moans deeply and shivers excitedly under the older man, his eyelids growing heavy as his arousal grows, heat pooling low in his belly and spreading throughout his entire lower half; his breaths growing louder and heavier in tandem with his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

"Father..." [N] whines lightly, trying to keep his voice hushed though it feels far too loud in his own mind. In fact, he'd swear someone could hear what they were doing right outside these walls, even with the door firmly locked behind him.

But James doesn't seem bothered by any sort of sound pollution whatsoever, rocking his cock upward, eliciting another moan from [N]'s throat, only serving to excite the young man further. His nerves are stretched taut and exposed, his body craving more of everything - touch, taste, feel, smell; all of it. Everything but words, because they never did much for either of them anyway.

"Sshh, my lamb," the older man murmurs soothingly, thumb trailing over [N]'s cheekbone, down along his neck to his collar bone where his hand curls protectively around it. "I've got you." He pauses, sucking on the shell of [N]'s earlobe tenderly and moaning.

"What if people hear," [N] whispers, unable to turn and meet the priest's eyes, afraid that if he does, he'll lose himself completely. Instead, he focuses wholly on the throbbing pulse hidden inside his walls, or the shallow hitch of the man's breathing across his shoulder. He tenses and untenses around the older man's shaft, and it's painfully obvious he's enjoying it, every inch of [N] tightening around the thick flesh, making him groan hotly, burying his nose in [N]'s neck, inhaling sharply. "What if they see?" he adds, desperate to ask, but unsure how.

James hums lowly, nipping the side of [N]'s jaw and squeezing his hip tighter against him, "We won't let anyone know," he promises quietly. His fingers curl, digging into [N]'s skin to hold him still as he fucks him steadily, dragging out slow, shallow strokes that tease and push, enticing [N] higher and higher towards release.

His nails scrape lightly against [N]'s skin, leaving indents that only serve to drive [N] wilder. The heat building inside of [N] reaches unbearable levels, and he leans heavily into James' embrace, shuddering faintly as his orgasm begins to boil inside of him, beginning with the quickening beat of his heart and blossoming outward, curling its way up his spine and spilling forth from his mouth.

It's a quiet cry, barely audible through clenched teeth, but the pleasure proves to be too much. An open-mouthed, trembling sound of need escapes his throat and makes his muscles tighten impossibly more, sending tremors of bliss rolling through his frame. Every nerve ending is alive with sensation, every movement of James' long slender fingers pleasurable, and the deep rumblings vibrating in his stomach only heighten the intensity of it all.

[N] trembles, weak-kneed and panting, straining his neck forward, offering his lips to James. The priest kisses him, his hand beginning to steadily jerk the young man's previously ignored cock, the added motion speeding the climax. It erupts hotly in a few seconds, filling the confessional, and prompting [N] to press his hands over his mouth, muffling his cries of satisfaction. A hot flush spreads over him and his knees buckle, knocking his legs together and forcing him flat upon the floorboards beneath them, moaning breathlessly and hunching over, resting his forehead on the cool wooden panel that separates them from the other room, letting his hips rise and fall lazily with each labored breath.

After several minutes, [N] finally relaxes, snuggling close to James and sighing contentedly.

"You're still so hard," he manages to whisper, feeling the older man's cock pulse inside him, not quite wanting it to leave, enjoying the feeling of James so deep inside him.

With a grin, James caresses [N]'s bare thighs. The younger man is bare before him, his clothing neatly under the bench, while James sweats underneath his cassock, the hem of the long garment pushed back, allowing his length to impale the young man. "Just you sitting on my cock is enough, my child," the older man replies softly, smiling down at [N] and pressing his lips to the younger man's. Their tongues dance together as they kiss, sloppily at first but soon becoming rougher, hungrier; loving, and passionate.

The sound of the confessional next to them opening interrupts their kiss. They both freeze, startled, looking over at the entrance, and listening closely. With a gasp, [N] goes to lift himself off of James' lap, only to be met the priest's arm bringing him down, his other hand covering the young man's mouth.

Their heartbeats echo throughout the booth, not even accompanied by their breaths, [N] biting his lip nervously as he tries desperately to stop his heartbeat from beating wildly and betraying him to whoever may have entered the confessional. After a moment of silence, James removes his hand from the other's mouth, turning to look at the wall separating him from his neighbor. For just a split second, [N] sees a panic flash in the older man's eyes, but it fades quickly; replaced by determination and resolve.

"Do not worry about me, my pet," he murmurs softly, running his fingertips across [N]'s cheekbones before cupping his chin gently, tilting his head back toward him. "Let's continue with discretion, yes? If we move very quietly, perhaps you will even be able to help finish me off."

[N] swallows audibly, nodding wordlessly at the suggestion. This had better work, he thinks frantically. Otherwise, God only knows how many parishioners might find out what happened here...

He lifts his hips and James sighs, his forehead laying in the crook of his neck and shoulders, whispering softly into his ear, "If I promise to reward your obedience, will you obey, my sweet?" James asks in a deep sultry tone.

[N] hesitates for just a moment longer, but it isn't fear that holds him back anymore; it's excitement. He nods once, determinedly and without reservation. And thus, with a gentle shift of weight to lower himself, [N] rocks against James, easing his tip back into his welcoming warmth; meeting him halfway so that when he lowers himself fully he doesn't bottom out immediately; gliding back and forth across the full length of his member until it finds purchase inside the older man, sliding easily past his prostate and settling in place. There's a brief pause, and James chuckles softly, shifting just a bit to angle his hips upward and take most of [N]'s weight upon his erection.

The priest softly ruts against him possessively, gritting his teeth as he moves, moving slowly as possible, knowing that it wouldn't go unnoticed for long should they make any noise. But neither cares. The simple act of being buried so intimately against each other fills them both with desire, leaving them consumed by animalistic instincts; primal urges bubbling up in their chests that cannot be denied or suppressed. The mere thought of anyone finding them here sends him into a frenzy, which causes him to rock harder than he'd intended to, jerking slightly against him; eliciting a soft gasp from the younger male.

"Sorry," James pants, kissing [N]'s shoulder and stroking his hair soothingly as he works his hips. "I'm sorry...don't stop." His fingers slide down [N]'s face, tracing the curve of his neck as they travel downward, and then wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. "Don't stop..." he repeats huskily, licking [N]'s neck suggestively before nibbling on the sensitive spot behind his ear. "Please don't stop..."

A small whimper slips free of [N]'s chest and James moans deeply at the sound, humping upwards inside him, grinding their pelvises together roughly, relishing the tightness he feels within [N]'s channel gripping him tightly.

The confessional beside them creeks open once more, but now, it's clear that the person is intent on coming in. Dread rises within [N], his breath catching in his throat and causing a tremor to roll through his core; reminding him all too vividly of why they were doing this in the first place.

"Forgive me, Father," a voice rasps in the booth beside them, "For I have sinned."

[N] can hear James gulp behind him, and feel the older man's heartbeat against his back. He bites his lip again, trying to keep his own heart rate steady, though he doesn't manage it all too well. It's easy to forget about such things when you've been swept away by the sensations coursing through your body, but the knowledge of who was approaching them brought everything back into focus.

"What sins do you confess to me?" James asks calmly, moving his hands to rest on the young man's sides.

There's a long pause, during which [N] tries vainly to remain calm even though his brain has completely short-circuited. Finally, the voice answers.

"Well, last week I got caught up in some trouble with some friends," the speaker says slowly, obviously nervous. "And uhm- -well, um-"

James nods, clearly listening, yet his cock pulsates deep inside [N], making the other male squirm uncomfortably beneath him. "Go ahead," the older man encourages after a couple of minutes, rubbing circles along [N]'s thigh. "Tell me what happened."

"We, we were just trying to have fun, and went into this abandoned building, uh..." They pause, as if gathering their courage, then continue on hesitantly, "... and there weren't any lights. We didn't really think anything would happen. It seemed like nothing bad could come out of it, right? Just fooling around."

James hums softly, continuing to run his palms up and down the young man's back absently as he listens attentively.

"But we started messing about anyway," they continue, sounding embarrassed, "and vandalized a bunch of things.. and broke a lot of stuff because it was empty."

The confessioner sound hesitant, unsure, and James merely strokes [N]'s back reassuringly, encouragingly. Slowly, he ruts his hips upward into [N], rocking his member just enough that the heat between them becomes evident.

"And the authorities got involved, and we ran," the anonymous person finishes. "It's not the full story, I don't know what anyone would think if it was the full story... but I just.. need to tell someone. Please forgive us, forgive me.."

"My child, please," James whispers quietly into [N]'s ear, yet loud enough to be picked up from the , rolling his hips faster against him. "Your guilt is only proof that you lack sins." His eyes droop, licking his lips as he hears [N] begin to pant, pleasure beginning to build within them both as he humps against [N] softly, unable to resist pushing harder against the younger male's constricting walls. "God forgives those who are repentant," he mutters lowly, kissing [N]'s temple tenderly. "Are you repentant?" He asks in return, his words spoken almost reverentially. "Have you truly repented?" He growls hotly as he begins to rut into [N] harder, needing something, demanding more satisfaction. He needs the boy beneath him to moan with blissful abandon and let go of all inhibitions and worries. To give in to the pure sensation. He wants [N] to be filled with ecstasy and lose himself in their connection so badly he aches for it, begging silently for forgiveness.

"... Father, are you okay? You're breathing hard." The voice on the other side notes, quiet, like they want to take the comment back. Instead of fear, hot arousal fills [N] as he hears the priest's arousal be noted. When he looks up, he catches sight of James' eyes burning into him intently, unblinking and focused solely upon him as the older man thrusts steadily. Pride fills him because it's him who's making James react like this, lose his self-control.

His vision blurring with pleasure, "Y-Yes..."James whimpers softly and kisses [N] fiercely, softly moaning into his mouth as he continues to grind against him with increasing urgency.

"Are you sure..?"

[N] rubs the head of his cock, his thumb grazing his slit and rubbing lightly over it. He gasps softly, pressing his thighs tighter together around his shaft, the friction of his hand sending shivers throughout his entire frame. His breathing quickens further still as he does this, the slow movements of his hips causing his erection to swell impossibly larger within his trousers. With shaky breaths, he keeps rubbing, wanting to prolong the feeling just a little while longer, hoping to delay the release. James nods at the confessioners question, forgetting for a second that he can't be seen.

"Y-yes, my child, everything is perfect," he licks his lips, watching [N] pleasure himself, "it's perfect..." His grip tightens briefly upon his hip as he watches [N] squeeze his sac, tugging at his testicles with delicate motions of his fist. A pleased smile forms on James' lips at the sight; knowing exactly what he's going to do next.

[N] groans low, arching his spine forward slightly as his palm slides across his slicken flesh.

"O-oh God..." He breathes hoarsely, biting his lip as he rolls his sac teasingly between his fingers, coaxing another moan from deep within him. His hips shake gently, matching the rhythm of his motion to the pressure of his hands upon his dick as it teases and taunts him with its touch.

"Father..?" the voice sounds concerned, and [N] glances towards the doorway, surprised that the person hasn't left already. Hesitant curiosity warms his cheeks faintly as he returns his attention to his pleasure, squeezing around the priest's thick member until he moans, a harsh sound escaping his mouth that makes him blush furiously.

"You may leave now," James murmurs, his eyes fixed on [N] as he pushes deeper inside the young man, filling him fully. "Thank you for your confession." The doors on the other side creek, and the person's step hurriedly fades out of earshot as they exit. They don't even wait.

#have sex have sex #james will fuck anywhere #james will fuck on the alter #james will make up a fake religion or holiday dedicated to fucking #james wants to fuck so bad #if i make more james stuff ill have to go into detail on his devotion #male! reader #male reader insert #male reader #x male reader #anon.txt

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arrancxr · 1 year

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What would your favorite shinigami be like as arrancars? Vice versa, how would your favorite arrancar's be like as shinigami?

Oooooh, interesting question. OwO I'm not sure how well I'll be able to answer it, considering my... general lack of interest in the Shinigami, but I'll try my best!

Also, I'm only doing the "Shinigami as Arrancar" part, since I don't know the Shinigami system well enough for the opposite. >.>

I only have a couple of Shinigami that I like...

. . .

Aizen

Has a nasty grudge against the Shinigami, and some horribly complex scheme to deal with it.

Probably pretends to be a "good" Arrancar on the Shinigami's side, playing all obedient and helpful while hiding how powerful he actually is. He's harmless, of course!

(Is also definitely mistreated by the Shinigami.)

His release is butterfly-themed and involves, of course, illusion powers! These powers are accessible even without the release form, and he tends to rely on them a little too much.

Deep down, he resents being a Hollow because of how isolated it makes him. Aizen can never not be a sad, lonely little man.

Unohana

S t r o n g

Absolutely terrifying. Definitely made from a Vasto Lorde, if not one of the "naturally" formed ones that are just. So scary.

Her release is manta ray-themed and involves powerful healing abilities, as well as that blood-looking stuff. She'll heal you just so she can keep hurting you. For funsies. :)

Naturally has incredible regeneration that makes her virtually impossible to kill. Anything short of an instantly fatal injury won't keep her down.

Serene, composed, and entirely uninterested in silly wars. All she cares about is finding the best battles possible.

Hanatarou

Oh no. Oh no.

He is NOT doing well as an Arrancar. At all.

Between being weak enough to be at rock bottom of the food chain and having absolute shit luck in general, his existence is one of un-ending misery and fear.

Doesn't fight much. Gets used for healing people and stupid errands instead, and honestly prefers it that way.

Looks like he's going to die of stress at any moment.

#Meta

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feralshadowdemon · 3 months

Note

HELLO

ivan, chuuya, fukuchi, tetchou, AAAAND

yosano

HELLO!!!!!!!!! THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG ivan goncharov first impression: oh how did fyodor fuck you up (did not know/realize he was lobotomized either) impression now: ohh he's my silly. his english dub voice gives me gender envy. i like his eyes. he is weirdly a well-written lobotomized guy. i looked into actual lobotomy for you favorite moment: his entire fight scene was good and more people should talk about it. signed yours truly me idea for a story: primarily? a general character study, however, - bubble bath. it is a character study with him and shibusawa. not set in canon - highschool au. he deserves to be a normal highschool student. he would swear a sweater vest. i will die on this hill unpopular opinion: his character is really fucking good and yes his ability's name is on the nose but i hope we see him again. i don't like shipping him in canon though bc he can't. Consent. Fyovan should not exist. also i think more people should be paying attention to the bsd side characters favorite relationship: shibuvan/shibusawa x ivan and you know it. my #1 comfort ship in my heart. they are so cute <3 favorite headcanon: he has tics and freckles. also sometimes i like making him trans the others are below v

chuuya nakahara first impression: oh he's cool impression now: I WANT TO BE YOU YOUR CHARACTER IS SO COOL GIVE ME YOUR GENDER YOUR CHARACTER SCRATCHES MY BRAIN YOUR ABILITY IS SO COOL. I AM NOT NORMAL. favorite moment: THE HELICOPTER SCENE OH MY GODD idea for a story: i have many! - hirotsu visits him during a stormy night and he's suffering w chronic pains but hirotsu gets him his meds. they get to talk a little. they are silly to me - summer camp au w dazai they are at war constantly - i have too many, but to briefly summarize the rest: fan dancer and kitsune au, meiji era/period au, chuuya and kouyou fic/character study, there will be more after i read stormbringer unpopular opinion: he probably doesn't have anger issues. might just be agitated easily or because of dazai. also people need to stop getting his character soo wrong because the amount of mischaracterization that surrounds that man is NOT funny favorite relationship: people sleep on his and hirotsu's possible dynamic. next one is well. okay. it's obvious, but soukoku, i just like their dynamic whether it's romantic or not. absolute menaces. shoutout to kunichuuzai also, but i honestly cannot ship that man all the time. bonus platonic relationships i really like is the idea of tetchou and chuuya becoming good fucking friends. let chuuya have so many friends to make up for the ones he's lost favorite headcanon(s): freckles chuuya, lightning scars chuuya, nonbinary chuuya (i dont use they/them for them all the time but i am a believer in it), chronic pains, autistic, metal/rock (the song genre) lover, sanrio and ocean life special interest, also demisexual/demiromantic !! sorry they have the most. favoritism is showing fukuchi ochi

first impression: oh doesn't he kill everybody's faves. meh impression now: YOUR CHARACTER AND WRITING IS SO OVERLOOKED. YOU ARE DAD MATERIAL AND THAT SCARES ME BUT IM ALSO :D ABOUT IT favorite moment: the entire fucking fight he has with atsushi and akutagawa. you don't understand he was both terrifying and also that gave me an actual adrenaline rush once i watched it in the anime. the music was so good. also the scene w aya !! idea for a story: the main one is a fukufuku fic where it goes through how overtime, fukuzawa in fukuchi's eyes is more like a wolf than a human being. it's his way of making it hurt less when he has to hurt him. i cant remember any others, but i hope there will be more unpopular opinion: can the fandom not hate on him so much lmao i dont mind seeing people dislike him that's valid but like. give him a chance i swear. he also can be trusted with children favorite relationship: him and fukuzawa's (romantically or platonically idrc). holy shit. holy shit. holy shi- also bonus shoutout to him and ranpo's!! it is not shown a lot but augh. of course i love his relationship with the hunting dogs too but fukufuku sits at the top favorite headcanon: hm. i can't think of any rn tetchou suehiro

first impression: AUTISTIC impression now: AUTISTIC favorite moment: them and kenji's fight >>>>> idea for a story: they are a samurai and they meet jouno along the way. they stay with fukuchi after having a rough run-in with an innkeeper and some people who are after them. they smell like blossoms unpopular opinion: i wish people wrote them beating up people more they're literally one of the strongest characters (physically specifically) of bsd favorite relationship: them and jouno's is peak favorite headcanon: asexual and nonbinary tetchou for the win. my most favorite one of all time though is them being half-taiwanese :] akiko yosano (surprise???)

first impression: please be well written. impression now: she is so cool!! i wish she had more screentime but oh my god she is so cool <33333 she is fun in the manga and i love her so much favorite moment: her backstory i wanna say. we don't get too much content of her but damn her backstory hits hard. it adds so much to her character and i love her a lot idea for a story: she and fukuzawa go shopping together. i think she also deserves some fics w fukuzawa. they have a fun time !! unpopular opinion: not a fan of kousano favorite relationship: her and ranpo's. siblings your honor, absolute siblings, ALSO THAT ONE SCENE IN HER BACKSTORY WHERE HE KNEELS DOWN TO HER AND SHES CRYING AND SJJSDHHFBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA favorite headcanon: aro/ace yosano is cool. very cool. aro/ace yosano.? holds her out to you. Consider

#lou *throws you a breadcrumb*#ask game #bsd

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belovedindierock · 1 month

Text

Bent out of Shape

Cranky, playful, and maybe just a bit cracked, THOM YORKE has channelled his anxieties into a new solo album. Join him as he ponders the future of Radiohead and the end of civilization.

by Brian Raftery / Photographs by Jack Chessum

THE FLIGHT LAST night was torturous. He didn't sleep—he never sleeps, in fact, no matter what he tries. The herbal pills shut down his body but not his brain, and melatonin gives him wide-awake nightmares that he dubs "the horrors." Sometimes he works on songs on his laptop, but usually, by the time he's halfway through the air, Thom Yorke is silently freaking out. But this morning he woke up, put on a Björk tune, and got a massage. Sitting in an abandoned, librarylike meeting room at Philadelphia's Loews Hotel, he walks over to a window framing the skyline. The sky outside is a wondrous blue, and the 80-year-old Ben Franklin Bridge looks as if it could reach into heaven. Yorke takes it all in, sweeping his arm across the display of buildings. "You know, you land in the U.S., and you look out the window here," he says. "And all this infrastructure, everything that's going on... it will not exist."

He launches into an explanation of how it will all go down: The world's oil supply will be depleted, American won't be prepared, and the City of Brotherly Love as we know it could be gone in the next 100 years.

This is what Thom Yorke is like on a good day.

His malaise is understandable. Yorke is a few months shy of 38, and like most people who pay attention to what's going on in the world, he's scared shitless. Much of this fear is channelled through The Eraser, a heavily electronic side project—he bristles at the term solo album—that Yorke recorded with Nigel Godrich, who has also produced albums for his band Radiohead. Its nine songs are jittery meltdowns about alienation and anxiety, and it's hard to listen to it without thinking, Man, does his voice sound good when it's so far up in the mix. Also, is the apocalypse going to arrive before track six is over?

And yet, because he has a partner, Rachel Owen, and two young kids, Agnes and Noah, and because it's no fun to be a gloomy Gus all the time, Yorke remains a 21st-century optimist, one who believes that things are bad but we're not entirely screwed. Yet, "I have to be positive," he says, "because when it comes down to it—how do I say this without sounding really revolting?—you have to get up every day with love in your heart."

He pauses, his face frozen in a wince.

"There you go. I sound like some sort of lunatic. I'll just say I haven't slept much."

There is absolutely nothing surprising about seeing Thom Yorke in person. With the exception of the mid '90s Pablo Honey era—during which he rocked a blond shag that made him resemble Garth Algar after partying in The Dark Crystal—he's appeared more or less the same for over a decade: spiky dark hair, a flatlined gaze (the result of a lazy left eye), and some tentative stubble. He dresses his age, in jeans and a white short-sleeved dress shirt, but looks five years younger—not surprising, perhaps, since 33 is the scientific proven median age of Radiohead's fan base.

What is surprising, though, is that while Yorke sounds as tense as ever, he's looking relatively relaxed these days. The perpetually tortured glare that greeted reporters and hangers-on during the OK Computer era has been replaced by an occasional nervous laugh and some self-deprecating digs. "It's difficult to tell how people have changed," says Radiohead guitarist Ed O'Brien. "But Thom's been in a better headspace for quite a few years."

Part of the reason for this reversal, Yorke admits, was The Eraser. After Radiohead's exhaustive tour in support of 2003's Hail to the Thief, the band needed a rest. Yorke retreated to his home base of Oxford, England, gathering blips and beats that had been lying around for years and assembling them with Godrich's help. "After the last tour everybody decided to take a break and have kids," says Godrich. "But Thom had actually had his kids first, so he was given this space to think about what he should do. And he thinks very hard about that." Everyone in the band knew about the project, but when Yorke describes the recording, it's as though he's talking about having an affair. "We were getting together a week here and a week there, and it really wasn't a big deal," he says. "And because it wasn't a big deal, it was fun. It felt like nobody was watching."

What happened on that last tour that made you so anxious to work on The Eraser?

The last show was Coachella, and by the end of that, we'd completely lost interest and lost confidence. Part of the nail in the coffin for me, personally, was going on after the fucking Pixies. It's like going on after the Beatles. It was a massive big deal, and I really, really, really didn't want to do it. It was an odd situation, as well, because I think the Pixies misread it. They thought it was because we didn't like them. I lost sleep for a month. It was time to stop for a bit.

What happened when you stopped?

The interesting thing was the lack of momentum, the lack of doing anything. You just sort of go into this loop where you're like, "Ahhhh, fucking hell," because nothing's done. Unless you finish a song, you can't move on. That's what was the good thing about The Eraser, going bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, and it was done. I want to get a bit of that bang, bang, bang, bang thing back again.

Making The Eraser may have been cathartic, but it's a very bleak record. There are songs about distrust, isolation, bombs in the Underground...

I have many bleak thoughts. Don't get me started, man, It's one f my specialties, apparently. I'm concerned for our future, generally speaking. I'm concerned for my children's future. The reason I called it The Eraser is because the whole thing was written just trying to forget all the things that scare me. For example, we've reached the point where the [oil] supply has peaked. So what's going to happen? It's this enormous fucking elephant in the room, and everybody in the Western world is ignoring it. It's insane. And me being me, I don't ignore it. I guess I have too much time on my hands. So yeah, big surprise that I happen to be writing about that.

How do you keep those things in mind and not have it weigh down your life?

I have periods like that, which probably means I should be [institutionalized]. But I'm not a pessimist. I've gotten involved with this Friends of the Earth [group]: in the U.K. they're a big thing, like Greenpeace. They have this campaign to get the government to reduce carbon emissions by 60 percent by 2050 or something like that. And it's quite interesting to be sitting down with these people, and them actually saying, "These things are achievable."

We've got 50 years to reassess how we interact with the world around us. And it could be really exciting. It's not like this [points to window] is making us happy. Sitting in gridlock is not a blissful experience.

So what about stepping up your political involvement, like Bono or Bob Geldof?

I'm not capable of becoming a big spokesperson. I don't think it's a good idea for the sake of my sanity. You have to know what your limits or strengths are, otherwise you'll crack. And taking on the responsibility in that way is really tough. You have to retain your independence of mind because everybody has a different [opinion]. It's not good for you. It's purely self-preservation.

But you've spoken out against Bush and Blair in the past.

I have a problem when I make personal attacks. I always say, "Well, they don't make personal attacks on me." It's bad karma doing that shit. But at the same time, they're pretty good at racking up their own bad karma. I find it very difficult to worry about that level of karma when they're still preaching about democracy.

Do you ever wish you weren't aware of all this stuff? That you could shut it out?

I wish I could find the pill. Unfortunately, all the ones I've tried only make it worse. [Laughs] The stuff that makes it go away for me is listening to music. That's always going to be the best way.

Have you ever tried antidepressants?

Oh, no! GlaxoSmithKline's legacy to the world is these poor bastards who can't get off Prozac. That's a fucking evil organization. Oh, I can't say that, can I? [Pauses] That's a very astute organization. They obviously know exactly what they're doing.

IN NOVEMBER 2000 this magazine put the pouty faces of Yorke and his bandmates—O'Brien, guitarist Jonny Greenwood, bassist, Colin Greenwood, and drummer Phil Selway—on the cover, along with the question, "The world's greatest rock band?" At the time the answer was pretty easy: Sure, why not? They were only a few years removed from the laser-show vignettes of OK Computer, and they'd just released the successfully audience-segregating Kid A, the only chart-topping record to include a relevance to rampant lemon-sucking. Besides, the pickings were slim—other groups mentioned in that issue included Disturbed and the Insane Clown Posse—and so being the world's greatest rock band was about as admirable as being the world's most dazzling salt-rock formation.

Despite the good-but-not-great sales of 2001's Amnesiac and 2003's Hail to the Thief, the fact that they have released only one new song in the past two years, and the ascent of bands that sound more like old-school Radiohead than Radiohead do, the answer remains the same: Of course they're the world's greatest rock band.

Much of this has to do with Yorke being one of the last truly myth-shrouded frontmen left. Not to slag on the competition, but the Gallaghers no longer have the tunes, Bono isn't enough of a recluse, and Chris Martin still hasn't written a song as good as "Karma Police." Even musicians who aren't Radiohead fans speak glowingly of them. "What they're doing with musical ideas is really genuine and authentic," says Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore. "They could really become super arena-rock, because they had that promise. But they take another turn with [their sound], because they want to do different things.

And like Moore, Yorke finds himself in the position of unlikely rude elder statesman.

Do you feel old?

I feel old. And wise. It's a fucking weird thing, because I've always wanted to do that thing of growing old disgracefully, one way or the other. It's a bad idea to say to yourself, "I wish I was 20 again." I hated it. I used to go through really bad periods.

What was going on?

I was—well, I am—sort of confrontational. If I don't agree with something, then I'll rant and rave about it. It was almost pathological. Early on I used to get into all these scrapes with people. I'm sort of proud of that, because it kicks up the dust. The Arctic Monkeys—they have a bit of that, which I think is good. I don't really understand the music myself, but they've been put in that position, and they're really young, and they don't give a fuck. There's all these people all over them like a rash, and I can remember exactly what that's like—all these people going [affects a sleazy coo], "Oooh, we'll have a piece of you." And I think biting the hand that feeds you is incredibly important.

Nowadays are you more comfortable with the inanities of fame?

They don't happen anymore. There seems to be this threshold, and during the OK Computer period, suddenly all this shit started happening, and you're this moving target, and weird people start attaching themselves to you.

With Kid A and Amnesiac, it was tough making those records, but at the same time, it was exciting to feel like you were basically jumping off: "Fuck the lot of you! We're off!" The most amazing thing about it was I remember sitting in Central Park, and Kid A was No. 1 for one week—like some sort of clerical error was going on. How the fuck did we do that? No videos, no bullshit—we minimized it as much as we could. Knowing that we'd never get away with it again was like our little proxy Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle.

So do you have a normal life in Oxford?

It's fine. Really. It's good for the soul to see the same people walking down the street and not get hassled. I only get hassled once every two or three days—someone might come up, but it's usually a nice thing, a positive thing. So I cannot complain.

Are your kids old enough to know what you do?

My [five-year-old] son came to our first show in Copenhagen. I can't get anything about it out of him: "So what do you think?" [Mimes a childlike shrug]

LIKE SO MANY other easily distracted creative types with too much free time and too little restraint, Yorke started blogging last year. The posts? Strung-together rants, plus the occasional in-the-studio update (Radiohead have been recording a follow-up to Hail to the Thief since last fall, though Yorke says they're nowhere near done). Yorke's prose style is choppy and scattered, and his entries make for an often disturbing read: Extremely personal, grammar-be-damned lines like "I was struggling, feels like we been trapped for a long time" are posted with no additional details, leaving readers to wonder if Yorke has gone completely crackers (and also to ask, "When did he start using smiley-face emoticons?").

I'm going to read you a few of these blog postings...

Oh, goody.

"Have come through another crisis, shaky but intact." What crisis?

[Pauses] Just wondering whether [Radiohead] should be carrying on. I always wonder whether we should be carrying on. We all do, really. In January and February we were still trying to work out what was what. It just seems to take a monumental effort to get everything back in gear. We stopped for so long. You need to be hanging out a lot and sharing ideas without realizing it. You can't disappear for six months and come back and expect it to be wonderful. And by rights now, we should have split up. Isn't that what we're fucking supposed to do at this point? We're not fucking 20.

Here's another one: "I'm fucking tearing my hair out. Too much at once." It sounds like you put a lot of pressure on yourself.

The pressure's from all of us. There was a long period of time when we didn't have a producer. We didn't have someone external giving us feedback. And by default, that meant that I, for whatever reason, was the one saying yes or no, and I was tearing my hair out because I couldn't wear both hats.

How about "There are giant waves of self-doubt crashing over me."

Ah. There I go again.

Is this an allusion to depression? You've talked about depression in the past.

Maybe. I mean, I can never work out if it's depression or just lack of energy.

A FEW NIGHTS LATER, outside Philadelphia's Tower Theatre, a determined-looking teen stands on the corner, index finger in the air. Like so many other 'Headheads milling about, he has an almost zero chance of getting in; the Tower holds only 3,000, and the seats for tonight's show—the band's first Stateside concert since they were forced to headline over the Pixies—sold out in seconds.

So he'll miss out on the mad rush when the band takes to the stage with "You and Whose Army?" He'll miss the nine new songs, many of which sound like a return to the rock-oriented Radiohead of The Bends (especially the soulful "House of Cards" and the Wire-in-a-haunted-house "Open Pick"). And he'll miss out on one of Yorke's most physically animated performances to date: the frontman staggers, flails, and waves, and at one point appears to approximate Axl Rose's shimmying snake dance (thought the homage is probably accidental). To the casual observer, it could even look as if he's having... fun.

When you were in the studio earlier this year, pondering the breakup of the band, how serious did it get?

What will probably irritate me about talking about that is that people make a big thing out of it. Well, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to say it's all wonderful and that we never thought about it? I think it's good to be honest about wanting to still have genuine reasons for doing this. But when you say that some days it doesn't feel like the right thing to do, it's made into this big thing. But surely, that's fundamental. That's a fundamental part of the whole process of being a musician—choosing whether to work this way or that way.

How bad did it get? I don't know. Lots of discussions. I think we're a lot closer now than we have been for a few years.

Do you still enjoy being in Radiohead?

Yeah, I do. Ultimately, it's important to me to be sharing ideas with the others. That's the way we do it. You don't notice it until you actually decide to not hang out with each other for a bit.

You've been cracking jokes and smiling a lot on this tour. Do you think your reputation for being humourless is fair?

No. I think it's widely unfair. But it's out of my control. I'm humourless when I think people are wankers. I'm not tolerant of idiots.

What's the biggest misconception people have about you?

Well, that's the same as the previous question!

Johnny Cash Movies, Pixies Who Sing

THESE ARE A FEW OF YORKE'S FAVOURITE THINGS

Walk the Line

"Fucking hell, what a great film! I liked the way they were able to take the [characters'] biographies and dramatize them in a way that wasn't naff."

Liars, Drum's Not Dead

"My favourite record of the moment. I don't know what it is about it—when you have it on, you just zone out. They moved to Berlin, and they sound like they're smoking loads of ganja."

The Bug vs. the Rootsman

They're on Rephlex, which is Aphex Twin's label. It's all sort of bit-crushed, and I guess it's drum'n'bass. I don't know. I'm too old to actually know the difference between this and grime. I'm supposed to know this shit."

The Geography of Nowhere: The Rise and Decline of America's Man-Made Landscape, by James Howard Kunstler

"It's an American book. [Album cover artist] Stanley Donwood lent it to me because we've been obsessing about suburbia. It's an analysis of the way America's developed since the first settlers. There was this period before and after the Second World War where America could have gone one way or another. And it chose to go [toward massive development]."

Björk, "Unravel"

"While you are away, my heart comes undone/Slowly unravels in a ball of yarn/The devil collects it with a grin." I'm trying to get Radiohead to do a cover, because I think it's one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard."

"Ain't No Fat on This Record"

YORKE COMES CLEAN ABOUT HIS ALBUMS

PABLO HONEY

1993

"Some of the songs we did justice to, and some we were in a bit of a hurry to do. But I think we did a good job on that record, considering we were kind of wet behind the ears."

THE BENDS

1995

"I like the fact that The Bends was so direct, but it [required] a lot of aborted sessions and starting over. For 'Street Spirit [Fade Out]', we were bashing our heads against the wall for days and not getting anywhere. We had countless versions that didn't make sense. I was being impatient."

OK COMPUTER

1997

"The house [in Bath, where it was recorded] was the most haunted house we ever encountered. Some people saw things, some people heard things. What tends to happen to me with haunted houses is I hear the thoughts of this other entity. You can't determine what they're saying; they're not that specific. Unless you're under the influence, and it gets really specific!"

KID A

2000

"I often think about the horn section on ‘The National Anthem'. Me and Jonny were standing in front of all these players; Jonny was writing out scores, and I was going, ‘Just play it like a bunch of cars in a traffic jam! They're really cross!' I really didn't give a shit what they started playing. I was listening to a lot of Charles Mingus. I wanted to take that to the extreme."

AMNESIAC

2001

"It never felt right to make Kid A and Amnesiac all one record; they both have [their own] weird flow. Amnesiac has some good songs on it—we play ‘Dollars & Cents' a lot. And I'm really proud of ‘You and Whose Army?': Jonny was listening to [30s vocal group] the Ink Spots, and he and Nigel had a bee in their bonnet about how it should be done. And I was like, ‘Are you sure about that?"

HAIL TO THE THIEF

2003

"Of all the records we did, I'd maybe change the playlist. I think we had a meltdown when we put it together. ‘There There' is amazing, and ‘2+2=5' is good, but as Nigel says, I wish I had another go at that one. We wanted to do things quickly, and I think the songs suffered. It was part of the experiment. Every record is part of the experiment."

THE ERASER

2006

"Ain't no fat on this record — it's a lean motherfucker. Short records are a good idea—40 minutes is the length of a school lesson, isn't it? Besides, we didn't have a lot left over. There's a B-side called ‘Drunk Machine,‘ which was cool, but The Eraser has a nice sheen to it, and if we put that in, it would have been like putting a massive stink bomb in the middle of the record."

Troubled Man

Confusion reigns on the Radiohead leader's solo debut [3 out of 5 stars]

by Jon Dolan / Photo-Illustration by Joe Magee

Rock music is based on a symbiotic relationship between artist and audience: They do whatever they want, we think it's genius. Get coked up and drive your car into a rehab clinic? Genius. Sober up and sit around a castle IM'ing with the Dalai Lama while a sexy robot maid rubs your temples? More genius. But some rock gods don't play that game, and Thom Yorke is one of them. The career of the Radiohead frontman has been an ongoing process of building a strange, maybe unprecedented empathy between a musical icon and his teeming minions.

Throw on any Radiohead album since 1997's OK Computer rewrote the book on stadium-rock alienation. Each is a little black pool of prog-rock drift where Yorke marinades his ego until it nearly dissolves, leaving him and the listener in a liberating state of disorientation. The woozier the vertigo, the deeper the bond. Now he's also got a blog (www.radiohead.com/deadairspace/) where he can share his most personal, tortured thoughts. Celebrities get rich commodifying their elusive inner beauty, but Yorke's freebie outpourings are kind of subversive.

The Eraser, a stopgap en route to the next Radiohead album (due in 2007), offers nine excursions into ambient neurosis that only heighten that shared sense of confusion. The skittery, out-of-focus beats and electronica brutalism are unsettling, and Yorke's dire musings are more obtuse than ever. But for him, that's just honesy, and this is his most personal, confessional work (Yorke created all the songs with producer Nigel Godrich). Call it a blog with beats--low on guitars and high on abstract expressive moodiness. "The more you try to erase me, the more that I appear/The more I try to erase you, the more that you appear," he yelps above the blurry piano on the title track, before the tension breaks with an almost humane house-music groove. It's one of the few moments when his body takes precedence over his troubled mind.

These are the weirdest tracks Yorke has ever been a part of; even devotees of Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood's comparatively pleasant orchestral outing, Bodysong, may be a little freaked out at first. "Analyse" suggests Swan Lake performed on a hot plate, and "Skip Divided" is like an EKG machine humming old soul tunes. Echoing Radiohead, these songs dwell in the space where everyday communication fails, and we have to look deeper or look away. But Yorke's ability to make alienation seem reassuring--what he refers to here as his "elliptical caress"--always draws you in. Whether he's singing about his childhood or postmodern apathy or math or rain, his drippiest distress calls sound like gospel. Even if he's going nowhere in particular, you can't help but tag along.

#radiohead #indie rock #indie music #thome yorke #jack chessum #SPIN #spin magazine

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