#*steel typo!

[typosandtea]

Brotherhood of losers!!!

MAXIMUS DANE THADDEUS <3

Knight Titus and the Cleric can go away though :/

Also friendship ended with knight uniform! TV Squire outfit is my best friend now! 🤝 (I still love that goofy orange jumpsuit)

[ID: a digital cartoon style drawing. Squire Maximus, Aspirant Dane and Squire Thaddeus from the fallout TV show are drawn left to right in that order. Maximus is a black man with very short black curly hair. He is facing slight to the left and is holding a 10mm pistol in both hands lowered, he is wearing the TV squire uniform. He is smiling. Dane is a white non binary person with short black hair with faded sides. They are pictured in the centre of the image, they are wearing the brotherhood fatigues from the show, they are flexing with both arms raised. They are grinning broadly, their 10mm pistol is holstered on their right hip. Thaddeus is a white man with short dirty blonde hair and a thin moustache. He is pictured in the top right. He is wearing the tv squire outfit. He has a bloodied arrow through his neck like in episode 7. His expression is very confused and he has cartoon question marks to the right of him. Both is his hands are raised towards the arrow. His gloves are tucked into his belt. His 10mm pistol is holdered on his right hip. The background of the image is dull blue-green shades in broad paint strokes. There is text above Dane “Dorks! especially him” all navy blue hand written, dorks is the larger text, next to ‘him’ is an arrow pointing to Thaddeus. In the bottom left corner is the artist signature “typos & tea ‘24 :)” in hot pink. End ID]

#fallout maximus #fallout Dane #fallout Thaddeus #brotherhood of steel #bos #fallout #fallout tv show #fallout show #fallout tv #fallout tv spoilers #fallout show spoilers #fallout tv show spoilers #fotv #fotv spoilers #Typos’ sketchy time

[vanalex]

#look at Johnny's earring #Kenny's piercings #early Typo days #type o negative #peter steele #johnny kelly #josh silver #kenny hickey #bloody kisses #1993 #90s #goth #gothic #ton #gothic metal #peter ratajczyk #metal #type o negative forever #💚

[neptunesailing]

Helloo, I really like your art!

Your drawing of Deuce got me thinking about which TWST characters and Enstars characters would get along.

So if you don’t mind, could we see a drawing of who you think is a good pairing?

(Idia and Mayoi seem like a horrid combo tbh.)

i honestly forgot that this was in my inbox oh my go i left it sitting here for days JDFJSKJK anyway this gave me an excuse to draw riddle again so !!!!!

i think riddle and tsukasa would get along well (from the little bits i know about tsukasa lol) both of them love sweets so. STRAWBERRY TART BE UPON THEM.

(also i agree idia and mayoi would be cowering in their separate corners and not talking to each other at first but id think theyd eventually bond over time but it takes FOREVER i love my two weird introverted blorbos /pos)'

#nep draws things #tsukasa suou #riddle rosehearts #enstars #ensemble stars #twst #twisted wonderland #sketch #nep answers #nep does requests #inbox: anon #FUN FACT when i first got into enstars i looked at knights and saw tsukasa and was like hm. this one looks kinda similar to riddle aka my #absolute fav in twst and then when i was introduced to him in the main story i HATED the way he talked but its ok hes just a Guy now :) #anyway i was expecting myself to like him and knights but OH HERE COMES IN ALKALOID WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!!!!!!!!! #i loooooove heartslabyul so much. have i said that. anyway i love my 2 card-suit / alice-in-wonderland / soldier themed groups so much AURG #sorry this is a post abotu tsukasa. sorry tsukasa suou #EDIT I HAD A TYPO

[midnight-moth]

Rain and Dew like to wear coordinating outfits cause boyfriends.

#I posted this and then deleted it cause it’s stupid and silly. But wait. I’m both stupid and silly. #anyways this dude mobshitty makes good shirts #I have a Depeche Mode one #he uses a sharpie strapped to a tattoo machine #you should def check him out for your small biz gifting needs #I don’t think he did these ones with a sharpie #but most he does #if you like typo o/Peter Steele he def did one of the photos from his playboy shoot #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul

[pcktknife]

Ur right + i think pearl and Marina would specialise in different types. Maybe Marina could do steel type since that’s kinda sciency? Idk what pearl’s type would be but she should have a loudred on her team

anon is reporting live from my brain rn

#literally the moment i got that ask i was like 'i bet marina'd b still and idk what pearl is but loudred has to be there' #great minds think alike #anyways callie fairy. marie normal. marina steel. frye fighting. shiver dark. big man psychic. #i honestly dont know if pearl would be a gym lead cause she doesnt seem like the one to stick to one typing #shed have stuff thatd fit her personality and vigor but that doesnt get you a type specialist job #like just one is too limiting and too dull for pearl she can work with any pokemon #i could see her being normal maybe by coincidentally having the whole team be dual typing and happening to normal as one of the 2 #loudred normal. iirc obstagoon is dual dark normal. #if i had to pick a top 3 to assign to her itd be those two types and i think steel again #*steel typo! #asks #anon

[unholy-bible]

Peter Steele, 90’s

#Peter Steele #Typo O Negative

[starkeaton]

#jjba #jojo part 7 #steel ball run #homestuck #feferi peixes #btw this is a typo theres a good few typos in this translation

[murdersexgrl]

#more typo memes from the fan groups #type o negative #pete steele #johnny kelly #josh silver #kenny hickey

[calenhads]

collpase + catalina!!

21. collapse + catalina hawke

words: 1,251 warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, and presence of corpses

Though the dust was settling thickly over the ever-damp streets of Darktown, Catalina found that her heart could not — would not — do the same. It rattled like a wild thing inside her chest, desperately tearing at the bars of her ribs as if it might break free. Around the edges of her vision, the walls blurred with a thick fog. Likely the chokedamp that writhed and gathered in the darkest corners of this fucking maze. She scoffed, and tasted blood with it. Faintly, she remembered how it had sprayed from a fatal wound, her sword cleaved several inches deep into the meat of that Carta dwarf’s shoulder. Her mouth must have been hanging open, gasping for a breath or crying out in fury. Nose wrinkling, she spat copper-tinged and thick into the dirt at her feet. It wasn’t as if it wouldn’t blend right into the already-bloodied earth. "Oh, Bethy,” she began under her breath, kicking at a corpse petulantly, “this was easier when you could just burn them for me. Now I have to own a flint.” Catalina drew the aforementioned flint and steel from the pouch at her hip, ignoring how her whole body twinged at the motion. A hot bath later would sort that right out, if she could convince Bodahn to help her dredge up the water for it. It was easy enough to light up the pile, crouching low to the ground until the spark grew into a polite blaze, held at bay by the damp walls and the chokedamp that clung to them. Better to burn the bodies than to let them fester in this place.

She might have done so, once upon a time, before Anders and his steady insistence. Rot wrought disease in all places, even more so among the lowest of the low, trapped here away from the sun. It was assuredly selfish, but if Catalina could limit the visitors to Anders’ clinic, she would. Maybe then he would come home more nights than not.  A few long moments later, when she planted her hands steadily on her knees and pushed herself upright, a groan gusted past her lips. It slipped through her gritted teeth, unexpected and bright in the recesses of the Undercity. Her body ached. Dulled edges of pain grew sharp, whetted by the drain of adrenaline from her bones. Distantly, Catalina realized her side was too warm under her armor, that the fog clinging to the edge of her vision was not only gathered in the dark corners of the street. When she pressed a tentative hand to her ribs, it came back wet and warm — fresh then. “That’s not good,” she breathed through a weak chuckle, a sardonic curl to her lips. Anders would have her head this time, for sure.  Anders. Andersandersandersandersandersanders.  He would be able to help. He would give her an earful first for being so damn reckless, for going out alone, for being a fool with a god-complex. But he would help even as he grumbled, and he would press his lips to her forehead as his hand rested gentle and warm and glowing with magic across the span of her wound.  Catalina pressed her own hand to the steadily-bleeding wound at her side, and imagined it was his. Thinner, but with longer fingers, and steadier than her own. And she walked onward, disguising the pained limp of her gait, the easy target she would make so far away from home. It helped, too, that her hair remained matted with blood not her own, smeared where she had tried and failed to wipe her face clean. That her armor clanked forebodingly with every labored step.  As she walked, her mind wandered. Easier to think of bowls of milk left out for the strays and a lantern set out in the creeping darkness than to let her mind get caught on the jagged edges of torn skin. She was almost like a stray herself, she thought. Always showing up on his doorstep with a sad look about her. A dry laugh rumbled in her chest like a prayer, turning into a wet cough and a wince as she gripped more tightly at her side.  Blood bubbled up between her fingers, welling up and over and dripping into the dirt. It was stupid of her to leave such an obvious trail, but her mind was full of golden hair and golden eyes. Long, thin fingers with bony knuckles that poked and prodded and fit between her own. And it was growing darker around the edges, until all she had was a slipping hold on her side and the faint awareness of heavy steps plodding on. A lantern glowed faintly above, wavering like a mirage. Real? Catalina couldn’t tell, not with how her ears were ringing and her eyes refused to focus. They slid from brown-tinged wall to brown-tinged wall until she was dizzy with it, feet shuffling through the dust and dirt and waste without lifting up. She feared she might lose it entirely.

There was a door in front of her.  That hadn’t been there before, had it? Catalina didn’t remember seeing it. She would have remembered seeing it. She liked this door.  It was easy enough to sag against the doorframe, her pauldron connecting heavily with the wood. Later, there would be a dent left behind, a reminder that they had lived and loved and survived in this place. But now there was only the dull metallic edge digging into an old, dry plank.  After a pause — only a moment, but feeling so much longer for the way her vision blurred and her head swam — the door creaked open. A beam of golden light from the lantern above her head slipped through the crack, illuminating a man peering out. For a brief, kismet moment her vision focused and all that mattered was him. Anders.  “Hawke?” he asked, brows pinched in worry and eyes narrowed in strain against the blue lines that threatened to overtake them.  Unable to help herself, Catalina grinned at him, baring bloodied teeth as she leaned more heavily against the doorway. “Miss me?” she teased, voice slurring, before she collapsed forward and into him.  Anders grunted under the sudden weight, the breath knocked from his lungs even as his arms reflexively wrapped around her middle to support her.  “I missed you,” she admitted quietly, morose now as she tucked her nose into the space between his feathered cape and his neck, sighing heavily. He was so warm like this, comfortable even through the clinical scent of antiseptic and the heavier shroud of putrefaction that lay over him. She knew she smelled the same. Life and Death always had a funny way of taking after one another. “I know, dear. I missed you too.” The blue light had faded now into nothingness. Catalina sighed into the crook of his neck in answer, some of the lingering tension draining out her body. His hand, slender and clever, swept soothingly over her side and in its wake was the warm tingle of magic knitting her skin back together.  “Come, let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, walking her towards one of the empty cots with all the professionalism any man could muster with a grown woman clinging to him like a burr. Catalina only nodded, stepping weakly in time with him as if they were dancing a waltz. They were certainly close enough to have been. “We’ll talk in the morning. Now sleep, Lina.”

#meaghan talks #ask #um! here comes meaghan 10 months late with a steel chair!!!! #literally this has been sitting in my inbox since late may of last year #but i wanted to write for them and remembered this ask so <3 #if you see any typos and/or inconsistencies no you didn't there was only so much research i could do when i was writing this #considering that i wrote it in class this morning because i was bored </3 #anywayssss ty for reading i love cringefail bisexuals in love #my writing #oc: catalina hawke #x: the war is over

[link-lonk]

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap is such a cool stand ability though, I think the part about it I love the most is how it builds off of the ending of Stone Ocean. Like at the of SO Pucci created a new universe very similar to the one all the previous parts took place in but not exact. SBR takes place in an alternate universe where some of the characters from before still exist but with different names and personalities. Starting SBR I thought it takes place in the past of the world Emporio ends up in after Pucci's reset, but D4C says that there are an infinite number of these alternate worlds where everything is almost but not quite the same. The base world of SBR and the ending world of SO could very well be two completely different worlds. The other thing about D4C is even though it allows Valentine to travel to these other worlds the time in each stays constant, he can't use these worlds to jump forward or backward in time and in each world he's shown to be in similar situation to that of himself in the base world. To get the alternate Dio to come to the base world he had to travel through countless other just to find one where Dio was alive, and even that Dio died in the end. I think it all kinda goes back to Pucci's point of gravity, everything is fated to happen one way or another. No matter how many worlds he escaped to, Valentine was still fated to die by Johnny's infinite rotation.

#radiostatic.txt #this is probably not at all coherent and probably has a lot of typos but I apologize for nothing #jjba #jjba part 7 #steel ball run

[eau-the-agony]

Buying one of these suckers for my future spouse instead of an engagement ring

#why do they sell these if not for human? #your crusty white dog doesnt understand the importants of brands or marketing #importance* sorry that was a really dumb typo im tired #and they probably dont have a solid idea of what silver is #(apparently its actually steel) #i think im mostly offended by how much theyre charging for fake leather #hamb goes on a ramb #hamb dies on increasingly strange hills

[luvjunie]

— headcanons. miles morales (earth1610)

MILES who somehow managed to pick you up with that corny little shoulder touch his Uncle Aaron taught him. Not because it actually worked and left you smitten and head over heels for him—but because in that moment, the dorky boy who stood in front of you had made you laugh so hard you’d nearly peed yourself. There was no way that with a sense of humor like his, he wasn’t getting your number.

MILES who has never missed a good morning or a goodnight text. While often they may not always be at the most ideal times, it’s the fact that he remembered that means the most to you. Even if he’s running late to school, shoes untied, and shirt buttoned unevenly as he bundles out the door of his dorm, he insists he can text and run to class at the same time. And at night, even if his eyelids feel as if they weigh a ton the minute his back finally hits his mattress after webbing the villain of the week to a light pole for the cops, he refuses to fall asleep without telling you he loves you first— though the message may include a few sleepy typos. “Goodnihgt aby i lov youuu” “shitno i meant baby not aby”

MILES who hand draws a card for you when the monthly anniversary of your relationship rolls by. Each one of them is different and creative in their own way and you’re always excited to see what it’ll look like this time. He’ll swiftly swing by your fire escape on his way to patrol, drop a box of chocolates, your favorite candy, or a bouquet of flowers on the steel metal along with the card, then switch arms and thwip another web to the next building in the same breath.

MILES who loves to draw you, especially when the two of you haven’t been able to hang out in a while, just so he can reminisce and pretend like you’re there, in his room with him. His sketchbook is filled with pictures of you, hearts usually adorning whatever space is left blank on the paper. He sees you in such a different light than you view yourself in, and he’s able to capture certain aspects of your features that you hadn’t even noticed before. He was so embarrassed the first time you saw his sketchbook laid open on his bed and tried to hide them from you, nervous he’d make you uncomfortable in any way. But you were nothing short of flattered, and reassured him of such by smattering kisses onto the expanse his flushed face and telling him how much of a sweetheart he was.

MILES who falls asleep in the span of two seconds. Usually when you can’t come over, you settle for long facetime calls so you can tell each other about your days, or watch a movie together. But he’s just so comfortable around you, and your voice is so calming, like a lullaby, so much so that he can’t help it when he falls asleep halfway into your rundown of events. After five minutes of silence, which is unheard of for a kid like Miles who is always filled with endless quips and jokes, you’ll scoop your phone off your bed only to see his ivory-colored ceiling instead of his face.

“Milesss!” You whine, the sudden sound of shuffling from the other end of the line erupting through your speakers as he frantically scoops his phone back up from his pillow, his sleepy face shifting back into view.

“Huh?” He mumbles, clearing his throat as he blinks the sleep from his eyes.

“You fell asleep in the middle of my story again.” You accuse.

“Nuh uh! I’ve been awake this whole time. I’m just a really, really good listener, m-hm. I am a wonderful and completely-awake, professional listener.” He nods, gifting you his signature goofy smile that‘s always a reminder that you can never be mad at him for long.

MILES who loves taking you to the new places he’s able to go around the city now that he’s Spiderman.

When you found out your boyfriend was Spiderman, you were in such disbelief that you immediately asked for proof, for him to show you anything that proved he was spiderman other than a suit and a mask. And proof you got, if the powerful gusts of wind in your face as he swung the two of you with web after web over the skyline of the city were anything to go by.

You were terrified the first time, legs glued around his waist and arms clamped so tightly around his neck that there was no way you’d fall. He would never in a million years let you slip from his grasp anyways, but if you did, you were damn sure taking him with you. He kept one arm around your waist for support and laughed at how you hollered almost the entire way to the clock tower, and whether they were screams of excitement or terror, he didn’t know.

It was beyond exhilarating, seeing the city from above with him, standing on the roofs of buildings you never imagined you’d reach. It had your heart pumping faster than you thought it ever could and your trust in him solidifying even further, and soon you found yourself asking him take you again, and again. And Miles would take you anywhere you wanted to go; open to doing anything just to see a smile on your face and to have you holding onto him like that again.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales fanfiction #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderman astv #miles morales fluff

[vanalex]

Yesss... here is my favorite band again ⊝

#type o negative #goth #aren't you getting tired of me posting all this typo stuff ⊝ #peter steele #johnny kelly #josh silver #kenny hickey #gothic metal #gothic #type o negative forever #ton #peter ratajczyk #90s #metal #2000s #steeleheads #stay negative #casket crew #the drab four

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

series masterlist | next >>

You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

[kilophere]

Typo negative peter steele

That innocence is what kept Type Of Negative tied for so many years, which benefit from its own inner charm and silliness. As the camera got closer Steele’s showed up, clapping while trying to take a shit. In an scene from the DVD “Symphony for the Devil”, we see the most horrible underground bathroom in history, filled with graffitis and a horrible stent that, while not tangible, is certainly perceived by the recording. But there was always an innocent humour into the equation. He always said that the way he dressed, using a black suit most of the time, was a signal of preparation for the inevitable deaths of friends and family.ĭark humour was always present, as well as absurd and grotesque scenes that plagued both their live shows and the DVDs released. We are talking about a person who attempted suicide, had to spend time in jail and that lived with a constant depression about his surroundings. But, in reality, most of them tackled real life issues that were tormenting the lead singer’s head on that time. Some of the lyrics, along with song titles, only became more and more illogical over time. The band enjoyed to mix hardcore with goth sounds, or even seventies’ pop from now and then. Hits like “ Christian Woman (Butt-kissing, Sell-out version)” on the bonus CD of “Life is Killing Me”, along with even crazier ideas like “ Gravitational Constant: G = 6.67 x 10-8 cm-3kg-1sec-2” carried the same identity from their attitude. One could think that songs such as “ My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend” or “ I Don’t Wanna Be Me” showed up as an intent to go towards a commercial patch, but that couldn’t be farther from reality. But hey, the album “Bloody Kisses” released on 1993 was the first platinum record of the brand, what could they do? The success did nothing but increase since. They couldn’t care less for the listeners nor their record label Roadrunner Records. Crying babies, torture machinery sounds, more moanings that I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Type O Negative didn’t care for anyone, something they were always implying in every song. Songs portrayed topics like lycanthropy, religion, white people, murder, depression and suicide. Type O Negative started their career on 1989, formed by Steele (who had been on two bands prior TON, called Carnivore and Fallout), Josh Silver (keyboardist and producer), Kenny Hickey (guitar and vocals) and Sal Abruscato (drums) who was replaced by Johnny Kelly in 1994. 1” surprised me at first, but going through their discography was an experience that, until this day, have never got old. I remember the first time I listened to the band. Throughout the years, Type O Negative never gave up this attitude. Later that night, the whole band showed up with tons of toilet paper and started screwing around, interrupting the concert completely. Ten years prior, during a performance by Pantera on 1995, the singer showed up and started sweeping the stage’s floor, where the singer Phil Anselmo was laying, getting hit with the broom. “The power of God compels you” came out from his mouth as “ Christian Woman”, one of their most iconic songs, started playing. In Wacken 2007, dressed as a priest with black shirt and a green collar, Peter -lead singer and bassist of the band- threw wine to the public. It was just the way Type O Negative’ crowd interacted with the band. “You suck!”, the public creamed, as if we were listening KMFDM’s audience, mocking but also cheering them at the same time. Who’s the real asshole here?”, Peter Steele said on the live version of “I Know You’re Fucking Someone Else”, a 15 minutes long song that featured moaning, a constant change of rhythm and an ever increasing brutality staring lyrics about a man finding out he has been, without any doubt, cheated. “You paid fifteen american dollars to get in here.

#Typo negative peter steele

[youaintnothinbuta]

“I’m right here.” — feyd rautha x reader

Summary: you get injured while combat training and Feyd kills your instructor for causing it

Pairing: feyd rautha x fem!reader

Word count: 884

Warnings: Feyd fluff. Graphic violence, killing, blood, stab wounds depicted, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stood in the training grounds, sweat dripping down your forehead as you faced your instructor. Ever since marrying Feyd, you had been keen on improving your combat skills. You were a good fighter already, but Rabban had laughed at you once, calling you a fair fighter. That stuck with you. You didn’t want your fights to be fair. You wanted to be ruthless and brutal like the Harkonnen were known for. Feyd insisted that you did not need improve and that he would never let you be caught in a situation where you’d ever need to employ your already strong combat skills. Feyd as a husband though, was incredibly doting and indulgent, and whatever his wife wanted, he made sure his wife got.

Your fighting instructor was one of the (particularly stern) Harkonnen wards. Feyd liked to attend your training sessions whenever he could. He watched from the sidelines, two of his subordinates either side of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed your every move. He monitored your progress, but more importantly, was there also in case anything happened to you.

“Again,” the instructor barked, lifting his dagger to strike.

You ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the blow. Your heart raced as you lunged at him, your own blade flashing in the sunlight. The Harkonnens were known for their ruthless fighting style, and you couldn't afford to be caught off guard.

You parried his attack, the clang of metal ringing out in the arena. The dance of combat ensued, each strike and parry leaving Feyd impressed. As you sparred, you felt a sharp pain in your side. A piercing shriek rang from your lips, you cried as you reeled over in pain, the sound echoing off the walls of the arena as you stumbled to the ground. Feyd was by your side in an instant, getting you onto your back, cradling your head in his lap. You screamed and cried, your vision swimming with tears as you fought to stay conscious.

“Just breathe,” he murmured in between your screeching, “just breathe.”

The sound of your cry, especially one of pain, was the worst sound he could ever be subjected too. Like how a mother reacts to her baby’s cry, it was horrid, not because of your voice, but because he felt this unyielding compulsion to put an end to its cause in an instant.

He had one hand at the top of your head, holding it steady against his thighs. The other hand, he had firmly gripped on your chin, holding your head so you wouldn’t catch a glimpse of your wound, your vision pointed directly up at his face. Feyd knew that your injury was not that deep, nor in a fatal position. He knew he wouldn’t have made so much of a peep if he received the same one. If you were his student he would have punished you for reacting to your wound. That was irrelevant, though. He didn’t need you to be as good of a fighter as him. He just needed you to be okay.

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to catch your breath. The pain was intense, like a searing hot knife cutting through your flesh. You could feel the warmth of your own blood seeping through your training clothes.

As the sound of hurried footsteps of medics and doctors approached, Feyd's demeanor shifted, his gaze hardening into steel.

"You are okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible, “I’m right here.”

He rose to his feet, his movements fluid and purposeful as he approached your instructor with a rumbling snarl.

"Women are not fighters," he spat as Feyd approached him.

“You commit treason,” Feyd growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You are weak."

With a swift motion, Feyd drew his blade, the metal glinting ominously in the light. Before anyone could react, Feyd struck, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Blood sprayed across the arena as the instructor's throat was slit open, a gurgled scream escaping his lips before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Feyd stood over the instructor's lifeless body, his blade still in hand. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of fear in them. But then it was gone, replaced by a fierce determination.

“You will heal quickly, you are strong. I will protect you,” he said, his voice fierce.

And you knew he meant it. Feyd Rautha, the Harkonnen heir, had just killed one of his own to protect you. You had been cut free of your clothing, your wound was tended to, cleaned and stitched up and injected with pain killers in a matter of minutes, exactly the way the Harkonnen medics were trained to do. Feyd watched over as they did so. You could feel his hand on yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“I'm here,” he murmured. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. He shook his head, arguing your apology.

Feyd was right, you did heal quickly. With his care and the help of healing baths, despite them being slightly disgusting. Feyd also made the decision that when you had healed, he would be your mentor, as he no longer trusted any of his wards to be.

#feyd rautha #feydrautha #feyd-rautha #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd x reader #feyd #feyd smut #feyd x you #feyd rautha fluff #feyd oneshot #feydbaron #feyd rautha x yn #feyd rautha x you #reader x feyd rautha #reader x feyd #you x feyd #you x feyd rautha #yn x feyd #yn x feyd rautha #y/n x feyd rautha #y/n x feyd #dune #dune part two #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction