#kurt cobain one shot

[fritz-federleicht]

Your name/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Summary: Kurt carves your name into his guitar

Words: 499

FLUFF

"What are you doing?" You walk up to Kurt with big steps. He's sitting there with his guitar on his lap, carving something into it.

"Carving your name into my guitar." He says as if it were a matter of course and continues to carve your name. You stand next to him and run your fingers through his hair.

"Kurt, are you high?" You ask him, thinking he wouldn't do that sober.

He looks up and nods. His pupils are huge. "Yes. But that doesn't change what I do. I want it like this." He clears his throat and continues.

You watch him finish the last letters of your name, then he looks up at you. "What do you think?" He holds out his guitar to you.

"It's okay." You answer him after a brief look. Kurt looks at you in horror. "It's just okay?" He asks.

"I'm just saying it would look better if it said 'Y/N + Kurt'."

Kurt's horrified face twists into a grin. "You think that would look better?" He asks, convinced of the idea. "Absolutely." You assure him.

"Then you do that." He holds out his guitar to you. You point. "You want me to do this?" "Yes. Then everyone has done their part."

You doubt. "But what if it looks like shit? What if I screw it up?"

"You can't screw up at all. Have you seen mine? It doesn't look good." As Kurt speaks, you run your fingers over the notches that make your name.

"Come on honey. I want to show the world that we belong together." He wraps his arm around your legs and pulls you close.

You put your arms around his neck and run your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. "But you have to promise me that you won't destroy it."

You stick your pinky finger out at him. "Pinky promise?" You ask. Kurt replies. "Of course. Otherwise the tabloids will think we're not together anymore."

You sit down across from him. "All right. Hand it over, then." You hold out your hands, Kurt hands you the guitar. You position it on your lap. "Here, take the knife." You accept it and start carving a big '+' into it.

"Beautiful honey. Better than mine." Says Kurt. You grin and carve the letters of his name into it.

When you're done, you look at your handiwork. "I messed it up. The 'R' turned out way too small." You whine.

"No it didn't. It turned out perfect." He stands up and lifts the guitar, holding it away from him. "This is now the most valuable guitar I've ever owned and ever will."

"Thanks for your help." He leans down and pecks your lips. "I'll use it right away at the next gig."

"Don't do that." You try to persuade him. "Yes I will. You can't change my mind Y/N." He leaves the room and says. "I want everyone to know that you belong to me."

[baenxietydad]

[translation version below]

[hearts4hughes]

nosey - tate langdon x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mdni ; smut ; oral (f receiving) ; fingering ; degradation

A/N: enjoy this 😁

sunlight sneaks through the curtains in your room, illuminating your sleeping figure. you stir slightly and stretch, but continue to keep your eyes closed.

tate sits crisscrossed next to you on your bed. he looks over his shoulder at you as you begin to awake. he smiles and gets back to his reading.

tate was the ghost boy who lived in your house. you were skeptical at first. a cute teenage boy who was telling you that he was forever tied to your house? that’s insane… right?

but as he began to appear out of thin air to talk to you or listen to music, it seemed incredibly real. that’s how the two of you became best friends. he shared similar interests with you that no one else had. he was dark and dressed like kurt cobain and that drew you to him even further. he hid his past from you, shielding you away from the dark that shadowed his entire existence. it didn’t bother you much considering you were keeping some secrets from him as well. now, as he sat on your bed, he flipped through all those secrets.

it wasn’t his fault that you kept your diary on your nightstand.

you blinked the sleep out of your eyes as they adjusted to the light. “tate?” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep. his clad striped sweater back was facing you as he was hunched over reading intently. “what are you doing?”

“morning sunshine.” he turned his head to face you. “dream about me again?” he smirked.

again? what did he mean again?

“what are you talking about?” you rasped, sitting up with furrowed brows. you leaned over to see what tate was holding in his hands and your heart dropped. “oh my god, tate!” you shrieked, grabbing the glittery pink journal out of his hands. you slammed it shut and threw it across the room. he looked smug as ever as you began to freak out.

the blood from your face drained as memories flooded your mind of other things written in that damn book. wet dreams, love confessions, describing how he looked in such detail; god, he must think you’re a creep.

“relax, i was just catching up on my reading.” he simply stated. his eyes wandered over your face, taking in your flushed features. “and i have a right to read that, considering i’m the main character in most of your little stories.”

your eyes shot daggers at him. “fuck you! those aren’t ‘little stories’, they’re my private thoughts! and you have zero right to read them like they’re the sunday morning paper!”

“well i, for one, give you five stars on your writing. i seriously never knew that hazel appeared in my eyes when the sunlight hit them.” he teased with a boyish grin.

your face went from pink to a deep maroon. you clapped your hands over your face and avoided eye contact with the ghost.

“and those dreams were, woah,” he huffed out in a mocking tone. “some seriously got me riled up.” he mocked. you pushed at his chest, mumbling something along the lines of ‘shut the fuck up’. “it’s nothing to be embarrassed of, babe. i’m sure if i could dream, i’d dream about fucking you into oblivion too.”

“our friendship is officially over.” your voice was high-pitched and your face was warm with embarrassment. “i’m never talking to you ever again.” you tried to stand up from your bed, but tate’s hand locked around your wrist and pulled you back. swiftly, he trapped you under his body with your wrists above your head.

“well, what i’m about to do to you might not need many words, anyway.”

before you could argue, his lips were on yours. his tongue slipped into your mouth and you moaned in surprise. it wasn’t long before you began moving your mouth against his. he settled is weight on top of you, an unmistakable hardness pressing against your pajama pants.

you subconsciously rutted your hips up against his. the friction sent a spark of pleasure through your body. warmth settled between your legs at the movement.

“you’re so needy,” he murmured against your lips. he started grinding his hips into yours, creating more pleasure than you could imagine. you broke from the kiss, throwing your head back in pure ecstasy. he took the opportunity to press open mouthed kisses to your jugular. “gonna make you feel even better than you could ever dream of.”

goosebumps rose on your skin as he moved down your body, pressing kisses along your exposed skin. he stopped when he hovered over your core, slipping your pants down your smooth legs. he let out a smug chuckle when he realized you weren’t wearing underwear.

“it’s like you knew this was going to happen.” he tsked. “such a slutty girl.” he wasted no time as his tongue licked a stripe through your folds. he moaned at the taste of you. “you’re so wet, baby.” he latched his tongue onto your bundle of nerves and sucked. your mouth was agape. you couldn’t even form coherent thoughts let alone words as he feasted on you.

his tongue began poking at your entrance, causing your hips to buck up. his nose knocked your clit making your eyes roll. that’s when he began to push his tongue inside your tight hole. his hands splayed on your thighs, holding them open as he had his way with you.

he pulled his face away from your core. your slick was covering his mouth and chin. he smirked as he saw you. “is this all you’ve ever imagined? all you’ve ever dreamed of?”

you nodded and whimpered when he abruptly pushed two of his fingers inside you. he curled and thrusted them in at a relentless pace. “words, darling. use your words or i’ll stop.”

“yes!” you blurted out at the threat of him stopping. “making me feel so good.”

“that’s right, baby.” he moved his digits faster in and out of you. your walls clenched around his thick fingers. “making you feel good like the little slut you are. i would bet that you’ve even touched yourself at the thought of this before. haven’t you?”

“yes, i have.” your words were whiney and desperate as you approached your high. you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, as long as tate kept doing what he was doing.

“such a little slut for me.” his eyes were trained where your pussy sucked his fingers in. the squelching sounds only adding to the pleasure. he started rutted his hips against your mattress, trying to relieve some of his aching.

then, as his lips returned to your puffy clit, you came. the knot untangled in your stomach and like a fountain, your release soaked his face. you had never done that before.

“didnt know you were a squirter, but now that i do know, we aren’t stopping.”

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.

[sadnightforus]

THE FATED STARS (PJS)

SYNOPSIS: Park Jongseong harbors the biggest crush on one of the most popular girls on the campus, you. You, being dared by your friend group to tweet and made a boyfriend application, initially started out as a joke, thinking that no one would applied it. Upon the tweet going viral and many applications being sent in, he decided that he would shoot his shot, even if he doesn’t know a single shit about what is the sun, moon, rising in astronomy. 

GENRES: slice of life, romance, comedy

PAIRING: secret-admirer!jay x f!reader

STARRING: xdinary heroes’ gaon and jooyeon, aespa’s ningning and karina, itzy’s yeji, le sserafim’s kazuha, the whole enhypen.

WARNINGS: a lot of actual unhinged things going on, author is a bit too obsessed with astrology so you’re now forced to learn about it, cussing, some lame sexual jokes (I promised it’s lame), they all tell each other to give up and kts, reader is not jlo’s biggest fan because she’s a mariah carey’s fan. the whole band is so broke for some reason. 

A/N: SURPRISEDDDD…. tried my hands on writing smau because too much angst kills me. I hope you guys enjoy it and if you want to be in the taglist, comment on this one.

STATUS: ON-GOING

FORMAT: SOCIAL MEDIA AU

UPDATED: EVERY TUESDAY-WEDNESDAY-THURSDAY

RELEASED DATE: 08 NOVEMBER 2023

END DATE: UNKNOWN.

ASTEROIDS

✭ INTRODUCTION/PROFILES

VICTIMS OF CAPITALISM | 7 DUCKLINGS

✭ MOST POPULAR ASTEROIDS

(001) - BOYFRIEND APPLICATION

(002) - FORM FILLED

(003) - PERSONAL OPINIONS & FAVORS

(UNCUT 003) - FIRST IMPRESSION MATTERS

(004) - CHART ANALYSIS

(005) - MEET UP (+ written)

(006) - SHE HATES ME

(UNCUT 006) - REPLY IF I SHOULD…

(007) - THOUGHTS ON ZODIAC SIGNS?

(008) - BANNED ON KAKAOTALK

(009) - KURT COBAIN’S FANSIGN

(UNCUT 009) - USERNAME CHANGES

(010) - LOSING TO IDGAF WAR

(011) - GOOD THINGS ARE COMING SOON

(012) - THE RECORD STORE HANGOUT (+ written)

(013) - TUMBLR GIRL ERA (SELF SABOTAGE)

(014.01) - BABY

(014.02) - BABY

(015) - SORRY (BUT I’LL DO IT AGAIN) (+ written)

(UNCUT 015) - THE IDOL, THE FAN

(016) - CONCERT ANNOUNCEMENT

(017) - PICKUP LINES TO USE FOR CONCERT GOERS

(018) - CONCERT'S PARADISE (+ written)

(019) - SYNASTRY AND THE SIGNS

(020) - THE COFFEE KISS (+ written)

(021) - ACCEPTING MY FATE

(022) - JEALOUSY? (+ written)

(UNCUT 022) - WHAT TYPE OF LOVER ARE YOU QUIZ

(023) - STEP UP MY GAME

(024) - THE DAY THAT YOU'RE FINALLY MINE (+ written)

(025) - I LET YOU INTO THE DARK SIDE

(UNCUT 025) - FREE CHART READING

(026) - AWKWARD ROMEO AND JUILET

(027) - COUPLE ANNOUNCEMENT

EPILOGUE 001 - TRUST FUND BABY

EPILOGUE 002 - GETTING A GIRLFRIEND IS EASY...

[double-features]

ALIVE - TATE LANGDON x READER

˙◠˙------ tate langdon x gn!reader

SUMMARY : after finding out the captivating boy they fell in love with was dead, no more than a phantom haunting their house, reader wants to join him in the afterlife. they needed to stay with him forever.

WARNINGS : (attempted) suicide, topics of death

GENRE : my crappy attempt at angst!!

───────────────୨ৎ───────────────

The little bottle of prescription pills should have worked its magic. But..

You were still alive.

Having lived in the so-called 'murder house', you figured your death would be inevitable; bound to happen whether you liked it or not. And frankly, you liked it. Being just another angsty teenager, you thought that maybe things would have gotten better,

And for the most part, they did. And who else was there to thank for that than Tate. The mysterious boy that drew you in like a moth to the flame. Maybe it was his cute dimples, or those intense near-black eyes that sent shivers down your spine every single time you looked at them.. Maybe it was the morbidity that seemed to follow him, how someone so angelic had so much baggage following him.. Whatever the case, you were both intrigued and smitten.

“I would never let anyone or anything hurt you” God, Tate had such a way of making you feel seen. Making you feel like the most special person on the planet, even if you thought of yourself far from such.

You were important to him, that's all that mattered.

'My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains', you were never one for poetry before you met the boy who seemed to pop up out of nowhere; but he sparked an interest in you like no other. Tate made you feel, he was the one who kept you grounded. Poetry ended up being one of the most important things in your life after he mentioned Keats once.

He was like a guardian angel sent from the skies to protect you. Whether or not the big man up in the clouds was real, you were certain that Tate was meant to be your savior. Your wonderwall.

Such an ironic choice of words, really. Oasis' frontman himself gave the explanation on what the hell a wonderwall was; an imaginary friend who could save you from yourself. There were so many layers to that, so many connections to what you were dealing with now..

Alas, you two had been so in love. Sappy, lovesick children who clung to each other like lifelines. Tate needed you, you needed Tate. His idolization of Kurt Cobain meant so many sessions where the both of you just sat together and listened to Nirvana, cuddled up on the bed. You were locked inside his heart-shaped box. All the comfortable sweaters he lent you to keep warm at night..

“I love you. I've never felt this way about anyone..”

You should have known it was all too good to be true. Someone who fits perfectly with you? Yeah right. You still couldn't forget the sinking feeling in your gut when you first read that news article that just so happened to pop up when you were looking for Westfield High's website--

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Westfield Highschool student Tate Langdon, age 17, shot and killed 15 fellow students, injured countless others. There is no motivation known as to why the boy went through with it- some speculate drugs and bullying might have been involved, but others claim he hadn't even dealt with much.

“I didn't really know who he was, I remember that he sat in the library a lot. Just sat there, like, me and a few of my friends would stop in there during our study hall and he'd just be seated, looking at whatever book he picked out for that day,” states one student we interviewed after the massacre.

Whatever led to such a tragic event, late yesterday evening, the FBI shot the class of 94' alumni and brought justice to the innocent students he murdered just earlier in the day. Was this an elaborate suicide act? We may never know the real reason behind the sickening actions of Langdon.

All we can say is, for the families of the lives lost at Westfield, don't give up. None of this is your fault...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

It was all so sickening.

Tate. The boy you had clicked with, the boy you gravitated towards, quite possibly one of the first major loves of your life. This.. psychopathic monster was not the Tate you had grown so fond of. Sure, Tate was a little weird, there was obviously some sort of chemical imbalance, but he would never do anything so horrible.. Would he?

Every time you click on another article, the more dread filled the pit you feel deep inside you. All the glee that being with Tate had brought you so far since your move all seemed to crumble, along with the trust you had built. Tate was a ghost.

A ghost. Dead. Just a part of your imagination. At first, you believed that maybe you had heard the name somewhere before and created this delusion of a boyfriend. But that didn't explain how the pictures perfectly matched the appearance of the grungey blond.

That was your breaking point. The moment your seemingly recovered misery returned, it hit harder than ever before.

Tate was dead. He killed people. You didn't even notice the sting in your heart at first until you saw the prescription medication in your peripheral.

Maybe it was the need to be with Tate in the afterlife, maybe it was just the old ideations bubbling over, or maybe it was the guilt of 'dating' someone so damaged. Whatever the reason, the impromptu decision led you to where you are now; in the arms of the boy you loved, under the running frigid water of the shower.

You were still alive.

Feeling the wet, cold sleeves of a sweater wrapped around your waist, you leaned back into the person seated behind you. Curse Tate for being so strangely comforting! You weren't supposed to crave his touch anymore, you were supposed to hate his guts.. But you couldn't bring yourself to do that. You could never hate Tate.

Never.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Even hours later, not a single word was shared between the both of you guys. When he finally released you from the cramped tub and let you cope alone in your room, there was a strange pit inside of her, an emptiness that only Tate filled.

On your bed, you blankly stared at the ceiling and debated whether or not you wanted him there by your side in that moment. No matter which way you looked at it; he was the push factor for your failed attempt. Then again, it was worth mentioning that..

Tate saved you.

Contradictory, isn't it? The conflict is also the resolution. The usual pessimistic attitude you held would tell you that the negatives outweighed the overlying positive, but not this time. Your thoughts all led you to one need. Tate.

Weakly, you called out into your room, not nearly loudly enough to be considered a yell. “Tate..”

By your bedside appeared the tall boy, looking just as empty as you felt. He looked like the shell of what you knew him to be, there was no doubt that, just like you, he was affected by what happened. Why wouldn't he be? He loved you.

For what felt like forever, the two of you stared into the others dull gaze, searching for any sign of emotion to appear. It was quickly broken by him, voice shaky as he slowly sat down next to you.

“..Why would you do that..? Why would you hurt yourself like that..?”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you didn't have some silly comeback. There was nothing funny about this at all. “I..”

“Is something wrong..? Was I not a good enough boyfriend..?”

“I'm still alive..”

The comment seemed to take Tate off guard, evident with the widened eyes and lack of a quick response. “You're-- Yeah. You're still alive..”

Alive. Because of Tate. For now, you decided to keep your awareness of what he did in his lifetime to yourself. Since, despite everything, he was still your savior. Misery loves company.

───────────────୨ৎ───────────────

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ ------ reblogs & likes are always appreciated, keeps me motivated to continue creating :)

A/N : first attempt at angst, totally rushed because it was my goal to just get something out before christmas. posting schedule is NAWT existent, sigh.

[temporarywelcome]

Formula of Love - Tate Langdon

Words: .8k (short n' sweet)

Summary: Tate can't stand reader's music taste.

A/N: trying out shorter fics to see how I like it.

“Shut the hell up Mina is so the best dancer in the group,” 

Swinging her legs while lying on her stomach in her comfy bed, Y/N had her phone pressed to her ear using her shoulder as leverage. She pouted, replying to her best friend, “Bullshit, it’s Momo. Mina is a great dancer too though, which is why they share the main dancer position,” 

“You’re just biased because you’re, like, in love with her,” her friend shot back. 

Y/N giggled, rolling her eyes, “My true love is Jihyo,” 

“She will never love you,”

“Youch,” she sat up, “Imma go now, I have some homework to do,” 

After saying their goodbyes, the two hung up, Y/N standing up and walking to her shelf. Surveying her album collection, she plucked out Formula of Love by TWICE, the group that housed Mina, Momo, and Jihyo, settling down in her bed again. Popping open the CD rom of her laptop, she inserted the disk.

Hey, if you have a million albums, you might as well use the CDs.

As SCIENTIST began to play, she hummed along to the song, occasionally eyeing the side of her laptop as if the CD rom was going to pop open on its own. 

Well, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

Ever since she had moved into this house with her family, every time she would play music and leave her phone or laptop for a few moments, the music would either stop or completely change. 

It was… strange, to say the least. Very strange. 

After a few minutes, her stomach rumbled, so she stood up and slipped out of her room to get to the kitchen. 

And that was when Tate Langdon took his chance. 

Tate hated Y/N’s music taste. To him, her music was meaningless and straight up ass. It didn’t help that he didn’t know what they were saying most of the time, so he really didn’t know what the meaning to any of these songs were. 

It didn’t matter anyway, none of those people would ever compare to Kurt Cobain. 

A one point, Y/N had gone hours listening to her shitty music and since she was so engrossed with whatever she was looking at on her laptop, Tate took the opportunity, grabbing a Sharpie and drawing all over one of the posters on her door. 

She was furious, blaming everyone in the house, which gave him time to replace the CD she was listening to with one of her dad’s Nirvana CDs. 

Her dad was cool. 

So as Y/N busied herself with getting a snack, Tate opened the CD rom and took out the stupid TWICE CD, replacing it with a Nirvana one he had taken from her father’s collection in the basement. 

Ah, Kurt Cobain. Real shit. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Tate jumped, head snapping to the direction of the sound. The doorway. Y/N, holding a bowl filled with what he could assume was her brainfood for this homework session. 

“You can see me?” he asked stupidly. 

She looked at him like he really was stupid, “Of course? Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room!?”

“Your music taste is ass,” he ignored her question, lying on her bed.

“Excuse me?” she blinked, eyeing her room for some sort of protection in the chance he was an insane serial killer.

“It’s ass,” he repeated.

“How dare you?” Y/N was completely flabbergasted, “You came into my room just to insult my music taste? Get the hell out!” 

“I don’t want to, Kurt is speaking,” he replied, “I’m Tate, by the way,”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass, get out!” she hissed. She went to throw the first thing she saw at him, the Formula of Love album, but paused. She would not risk a perfectly good album on this asshole. She had a Jihyo poster in there. 

He huffed, offended, as if he had the right to be, “Well, now I definitely don’t want to leave,” 

“What the fuck?” she could feel her blood pressure rising more and more, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

Tate smirked, dimples on full display as he stood up and sauntered towards her. Taking the album from her hands, pissing her off further, he looked down at it, “You call this real music?” 

“You’re a real nice guy, y’know that?” she snatched the album back from him, “Are you the one who keeps fucking with my music?!” the more she processed it, the more ticked off and panicked she got, “How often are you in my house?!”

“Does it matter? I think your poor music taste is more important, a much bigger issue,” 

What the hell is wrong with this guy?

He grinned, strolling towards her album collection, “What is the appeal anyway? You don’t even know what they’re saying,” 

Y/N paused, before slowly joining him in front of the bookshelf. She pulled out a different album, Ready to Be, “I’ll advocate on TWICE’s behalf, you can speak in defense of your Nirvana. Then you can get the hell out of my house.

Tate’s eyes lit up, the idea of being able to talk to a pretty girl around his age about something he enjoyed bringing him joy, “I’m so going to win,”

She was speaking his language. He had a feeling they would be talking more often.

[airam1quhs]

💐This Goes to My Partner.💐|K.C.

(requested by @screamfome [request: Kurt Cobain but. He writes a song about you and he's like "this goes to my lover, at home])

A/N: I wrote this crumb-not-really-a-crumb a while back but never posted it because I didn't think it was good enough. Turns out I haven't been productive in AGES so you guys can have this lol 😭 keep in mind it's unedited and probably wasn't supposed to see the light of day. And to all my other pending requests, IM REALLY SORRY for the delay and I promise I'm working on them 😭 just don't get your hopes up too high and expect them any time very soon. Sorry again :(

Warnings: N/A. Gn reader (they/them pronouns)

They pressed the button on their telephone, playing back the message that was causing the blinking light. As soon as they heard Kurt's voice they smiled. They looked forward to the daily updates they could wake up to every morning, as it was one of the fewer ways they could contact Kurt while he was on tour.

"Hey love! I know you'll probably be sleeping or out with your friends so I'm uh, leaving a message. Things've been going fine here, I guess. Nothing much to report. Y'know what actually there is, Krist damaged himself onstage again but that's nothing new so," a pause, "You know that big show we have tomorrow night? I think it's being broadcasted live... you should tune in. Looking forward to being home off this fucking drag. Hope you watch the show. Miss you."

The last part was more of a whisper, but they still picked up on it before the sound of the phone being placed back on its holder, and they couldn't control their smile. They were more than ready for Kurt to be home too. By far.It was a weekend, so they amused themself with hobbies and random activities for most of the day, even managing to be a little productive. It's a wonder what a good night's sleep and high spirits can do. But when it came to be evening all tasks were dropped in favor of curling up under a blanket on the couch, eating some snacks and watching the tv.

Sure enough the Nirvana show was about to be on. The channel did the thing where they excessively tease something they're going to show anyways, but it was okay, because it meant they could marvel at the beautiful, professional shots and video clips taken of Kurt. He was photogenic regardless of if he liked it or not.

Finally it began. The show started normally, set tight and not much crowd interaction between. In fact, they didn't think the band had said a single spoken word to the crowd three songs in.

They understood it. He was probably quite fatigued from all the touring. Just listening to his voice in general was enough. Though they were surprised when the band stopped, and Kurt started taking into the microphone.

"These next ones, and this show in general..." He stopped to squint at and survey the crowd as he caught his breath, "this is dedicated to my wonderful partner." He said with an air of seriousness. The crowd roared at that. "I know they're probably watching at home right now." A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, "probably sitting on the green couch, under our purple blanket..." They looked down at their exact position and laughed. Kurt knew what he was talking about. "Probably eating something too, yeah?" The full smile came out now, as he looked right at the camera. "You'll have to tell me when I get home."

With a last, sweet smile, the band went back to paying.But they say on the couch feeling full of warmth. Even a million miles away, hours off in time zones with all sorts of foreign excitement... he was still thinking of them.

[saddie-0420]

Jimmy headcannons

Alternative Universe where Jimmy isn't a sicko rapist or a broney(Don't shoot me if you think they suck)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

-Age isn't really specified within the game but I'd say he's about 35

- Grew up with Curly known him his whole life from kindergarten till the timing of the game

(Curly has many photos of them as kids and well into their teen years Jimmy hates most of the photo mainly his awkward teen years)

-Grew up in the foster care system but wasn't pushed house to house he stayed in one house that was just mentally abusive

-Got very violent around 13 got in trouble a lot in school even fought his only friend a few times (Curly) but because Curly is so forgiving they made up usually a week after fighting

(I'd say most of their fights were just Jimmy taking out his anger on Curly because Curly had a better life than him)

-We all know regular Jimmy is fucked up in the head so he's probably Bipolar and gets medicated for it

(he definitely be skipping taking his crazy meds)

-probably also in and out of mental institutions cause like I said he's prob bipolar

-Very good at card games like war and go fish

(One time during casual game night on the ship they were playing war like 1v1 till it was only Jimmy and Swansea left, Jimmy won and Swansea tried to fight Jimmy cause he lowkey don't like Jimmy in any Au and they broke the table and Swansea fell back on it💀)

-Was probably that kid that always had a bowl cut or a buzz cut till like 7th grade and he started growing his hair out

-Hair is greasy no matter what he uses on it

-Id say he favorite band is Nirvana because it's all him and Curly listened to when they were teens and his fav song is 'Smells like teen Spirit'

(Yes that song is overrated but it's a good song and Nirvana being his fav band is half way cause he shot himself like Kurt Cobain plus he gives off Nirvana vibes)

-has a bit of a alcohol problem

-was a good beer pong player in high school despite being a social loser

-has one of those pin poke tats he did when he was like 15 and it's a star near his heart

(he also tried to give one to Curly but curly refused and had to hop out Jimmy's window to escape from jimmy trying to prick him, Jimmy made fun of him for running away but jimmy is kinda embarrassed by the star cause it's "Feminine")

-got a tongue piercing when he was struggling mentally it was before Curly got him a job at Pony Express

(The piercing is a plastic bar with two star shaped balls on each end of the bar the stars are to match his pin poke tat)

-Lowkey likes taking Daisuke's game boy to play Mario

(Daisuke found this out one night when he was looking for it and found Jimmy in the cockpit beating his high score in Mario, Daisuke gets mad every time Jimmy asks what's the high score on Mario but whooped Jimmy's ass in Tetris)

-Has rage quit Tetris because he's impatient and doesn't understand the game

-He cut his hand open one time and Anya had to sew it up he found it ever interesting watching her do it

-Curly has had to shove Jimmy's Bipolar meds down his throat

(Curly did feel bad but he just wants his Co-pilot to stay sane to keep the crew safe)

-has old scars on his knuckles from punching walls in his teen years

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Thats all I can get off the top of my head but if yall got any message me on them cause I love interacting with people😚🫶❤️

[pjofancalledbelle]

I love Magnus Chase. Literally, YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! He’s my soulmate he is me. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH! Like when he’s sad I’m sad (basically all the time cause his life sucks but Yk)! Magnus chase, the Kurt Cobain looking, man you are!

(I’m going to have to write a one shot for him at some point)

[twin-fantasies]

omg molly look at this

FullyFocusedOnNought•2 mo. ago

A few things that raise suspicion that some kind of foul play was at hand (only listing things that have been confirmed by multiple sources, police reports, taped records, etc):

Kurt Cobain did a huge (allegedly very lethal) amount of heroin, then shot himself, which is not only extremely rare - the two acts in combination, I mean - but also pretty hard to do

His heroin paraphernalia was neatly packed away in its box after he injected himself with an absolutely massive dose of heroin

His sleeves were rolled down (I believe)

The gun casing was on the wrong side

Someone had slashed the tyres on Kurt Cobain's car

The suicide note reads much more like a letter of resignation to fans, except for the part in what looks a lot like different handwriting

Their lawyer and family friend, Rosemary Carroll, confirmed on tape that Courtney Love had a bag with a handwriting practice sheet in it

Courtney Love called in the police report to say he was missing but gave Kurt Cobain's mum's name, not her own (the policeman, Terry O'Connor maybe, who she named in the report and was friends with, was later killed in one of the only fatal police shootings in Seattle at that time)

Kurt is confirmed to have spoken to Cali, the nanny and ex-boyfriend of Courtney Love who was living in the house at the time, and his girlfriend, yet this was never mentioned by Courtney Love, who exchanged several phone calls with Cali

Cali's girlfriend, Jessica Hopper, left in a hurry and vomited in the driveway on her way out

Cali left a really suss note on the stairs at this time - worth a read

Cali was immediately sent to LA to go to rehab on Courtney Love's dime

Kurt Cobain's friend, Dylan Carlson, who bought the gun, also received a lot of money from Courtney Love

Courtney Love knew the coroner who did the autopsy (he also fled across the country and died in some weird base jumping accident, though I am guessing this was just a coincidence)

Kurt was planning to quit Nirvana, potentially losing millions of dollars in the process

Kurt had contacted their lawyer about getting a divorce around two weeks before his death: Courtney Love stood to lose millions if they divorced as they had a pre-nup. With his death, she inherited half his estate and was set for life

Courtney Love lied about Rome - she described a suicide note, but then also said that it was about getting a divorce

After leaving rehab, Kurt Cobain actually tried to contact Courtney Love at her hotel, and also spoke to other people - he was not, in any real sense, missing

Punk rocker El Duce claimed that Courtney Love offered him 50,000 dollars to kill Kurt Cobain - El Duce was one crazy dude, but his story was corroborated by the owner of the Rock Shop, where it was alleged to have happened, and El Duce also passed a lie detector test (again, not proof, but an indication of some kind)

El Duce let slip the name 'Allen' to a BBC documentary maker, Nick Broomfield. Then, not long after, in a local interview (available online), he said the name Allen Wrench, one of his good friends

I believe the next day, El Duce was dead, decapitated by a train after allegedly falling asleep on a train track. Confirmed as the last person to see him alive: Allen Wrench

Allen Wrench then got a Lexus, a new recording studio and toured Europe with his low-grade band

Kristen Pfaff, who was rumoured to be in love with Kurt Cobain and who had been threatened by Courtney Love in the past, soon quit Courtney Love band's Hole, where she had been the bassist. She returned home to get clean and rejoin her old band. She then died of a heroin overdose when she went back to Seattle to pick up her stuff. Her diary was found with the pages from the week that Kurt Cobain died ripped out.

Courtney Love recently settled a very similar case with her daughter's ex-husband, Isaiah Silva

Also, I really recommend checking out the artwork of Michael 'Cali' DeWitt, who is confirmed to have been in the house at the time of Kurt Cobain's death.

Things in favour of it being a suicide: Kurt Cobain suffered from depression, had marital problems and was having trouble trying to escape Nirvana, too.

So, you know, both options are possible, but to me one explanation explains away a lot, whereas the other one really doesn't. Kurt Cobain was certainly prone to erratic behaviour and depression, but Courtney Love shaped the narrative of a suicidal person before, during and after this period to such an extent that it made it extremely hard for most people to look at the case objectively - from the very first instant, with Rome, the missing person report filed under a false name and other police incidents, people were led to look at the case in a particular way that may not have been wholly accurate.

At the very least, I believe that people who ask some questions should not be dismissed out of hand.

Dandy, oh my god. That's so interesting like actually. Oh my god wow ok i am totally on your side now she definitely killed him! The DIARY??? THE HANDWRITING???? THERES NO WAY SHE DIDNT KILL HIM

[fritz-federleicht]

Hey boo! I love your Kurt imagines and I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is sick. No worries if you can't.

Thanks! <33

Next to you/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Summary: You're sick and try to keep Kurt at a distance. He soon longs for you

Words: 570

FLUFF

---------------------------------------------

The door slowly slides open. Light streams into the completely dark room.

You groan and turn in your bed, away from the light. Footsteps come toward you. "Kurt, you know it's no offense, but go away! I don't want you to get sick." You try to stop your lover with a raspy voice.

He stops. "But I want to hold you in my arms again. Besides, the sofa is rock hard." His footsteps settle back into gear. In a moment, he'll be standing right next to you. "And it's not particularly big, either."

"But I don't want you to get sick!"

You almost made it through the cold without infecting Kurt. He's been nursing you the last few days. Again and again he came into your room like a caring mother and asked if you needed anything. Kurt brought you tea and soups. In the meantime your cold has gotten better, but not completely gone.

Despite your illness, he often tried to lie down with you. During the night he entered the room and crept up to you. Kurt slowly lowered his body onto the mattress. But because of your cold, your sleep wasn't very deep anyway and you woke up immediately. He tried to move as little as possible, hoping you wouldn't notice him. And thus also not the deepening in the mattress.

Kurt now stops a little bit away from you, accepting your request not to come closer. For now. "I won't get sick, my love."

"Honey, it's only two more days. I'll be fine then." Your voice is weak.

It's quiet. Kurt doesn't answer anymore and you wonder if he has left the room.

"Kurt? Are you still there?"

Suddenly he's standing right in front of you. The light shines against Kurt's back, exposing his slender outline. Before that, he avoided the brightness. "I don't care if I get sick. Understand this please. I just want to hold you in my arms." Kurt's voice sounds tortured. So very tortured. He sounds like he's about to cry because his longing for you is so strong. It breaks your heart to see him suffer.

You exhale and slide to the side. "Alright, then lie down with me." You pat the empty spot next to you. "But don't complain if you feel bad later and get sick."

Kurt places himself next to you and gently wraps his arm around your waist. So gently, as if you could break at any moment. He pulls you to his chest and exhales in relief. "Finally. I've been wanting to do that for the last few days."

A soft chuckle creeps over your lips. It's sweet that he missed you so much.

Kurt continues to speak. "And if I get sick, then that's the way it is. I'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now I want to enjoy this moment."

"Then do that. I won't run away." You drop deeper into your soft pillow. "Is it okay if I sleep?"

"Absolutely. You need to get well." Kurt's lips gently press a kiss to the back of your head as he pulls the blanket over your ailing body. "Sleep tight honey."

You close your eyes, sure you'll feel much better tomorrow. Maybe it's because of sleep, or maybe it's because Kurt is lying next to you.

[coleaep]

��AT HIS WORST🤍

Kurt Cobain x Reader

1167 words

WARNINGS: mentions of virginity loss, sex. Heavy suicide mention. Depressing.

Lmk if I missed something

Before Kurt and i married each other we had a friendship. It was a trouble making, punk, but quiet teenage friendship.

At one point he told me about his parents and his pot addiction. To be honest I didn't like it, but I didn't tell him that. Kurt was already to shattered to hear me nag at him tell him it's not good for him as well as to stop.

But that was until my parents got divorced and none of them wanted me, leaving me no choice but to run. Not really though. I stayed with Kurt at a run down place.

I was hanging out with Kurt one day while he was smoking and I decided to take a hit, I mean .. I had nothing to lose.

I don't know when it was that Kurt had asked if we could take each other's virginity. I said yes, thinking I was going to never get a boyfriend.

After we had sex I caught feelings for him and I hated it. He wasn't stable enough to be in a relationship and he knew that. Although when we turned 16 we got together. I suppose it was to seal the lonely hole we both had in our hearts.

Once we turned 20, we got engaged and then married but just before that I got pregnant with his baby.

____

And so now we had a 2 year old girl.

I also started to feel like Kurt was acting strange. Almost dead..

His smile rarely came onto his face when he was around not only his band mates, but me as well and it made me feel scared yet also insecure that his love for me was fading.

I knew confrontation wouldn't be the best for him since he's to fragile so I just decided to ask him how he was going.

__

I walk inside the house after going out to buy some groceries and I head to both mine and Kurt's bedroom, but yet I find it empty.

I tip-toe to the bathroom unsure of where the man was.

"KURT! NO!". I smack the shot gun away from his head, dropping to my knees and clinging onto him so tightly I thought I might suffocate him. It takes him a second to realise I was there. "I'm sorry Yn" he cries immensely as I do to. "Kurt... please don't leave", i cough.

"I'm so broken" he continues and I hush him. I couldn't sit there and let him say he wanted to end himself. I wouldn't let him. "Please Kurt .. j..just talk to me. Let me understand".

Sniffles and coughs come from us both as we hold onto each other. I didn't want but I knew I had to let go of him. Just to hear him say what's going on in his head. I knew it would be hard for him to explain or even just say but I didn't care.

I untangle myself from him and keep his hands tightly in mine. " I know you deserve better Yn..", he mutters. "No. Kurt, no. I'm not gunna let you say that. Baby, please" I cup his face in my hands and I look into his ocean blue eyes. I don't know what I would do if I lost the opportunity to look at them.

I felt like I couldn't ever leave him alone anymore. This just proved that he had no idea how much I needed him.

We sat in silence for what felt like hours. I held his hands in my lap whilst his head rested on my shoulder.

"Kurt..." I whispered. He hummed in response. "Lilly has to be picked up and I want you to come with me.." "k" was all he said before we got up and went outside and into his car. As we drove to the preschool Kurt held onto my arm securing it in his embrace.

_

As we walk through the small playground in search of our child, Kurt kept his head down. I wanted to comfort him but I didn’t know how.

“DADDY!”. (C/n) wobbled over to us with her arms open wide. “Hey baby”. I could see a small tear drop fall on (C/n) ‘s head whilst she hugged his leg.

“Hey princess, wanna have a sleepover with grandma tonight” I suggest and her smile glows as she nods. “Ok” I smile and we walk back out to the car.

__

The drive to Kurt’s mothers house took about 20 minutes. I could see multiple tiny drops of tears coming from Kurt’s eyes during the 20 minutes.

I got out of the car once we arrived and Kurt’s mother waited at the front door. I said my goodbyes and rushed back to the car.

As before the drive back home was way to quiet. The silence was almost deafening. I turned to face Kurt at one point, his already on mine. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled. Although it seemed like he wasn’t, I knew he was.

Instant tears flowed slowly down my cheeks. “I know..” I say, barely able to stabilise my words. “I just wanna .. u-understand baby” my hitches bud into my saying. “I know you do” he whispers back.

“I don’t like feeling trapped” “Kurt.. you mean like.. trapped in a marriage?” “No Yn. I feel trapped in my head cause my thoughts are trying to end me. It’s not you Yn. You and (C/n) mean the world to me. I don’t want you to see as me a broken down heroine addict. Especially (C/n)”.

I knew where he was coming from. But all I was thinking was the fact that if I was (C/n) I wouldn’t mind. I mean sure, him being addicted to drugs is bad but him still loving his child and me with all of him, was all that mattered and I wanted him to know that.

“You know Kurt..? I think (C/n and I are just lucky to have a dad and husband that loves us more than anything in this world. J just want you to know that. I really am not sure what you need to help you but I’ll do anything baby.”

“We can’t afford anything thing like a therapist Yn..” he says. “I’ll be your therapist. You can talk to me. Get things off your chest. Get them out so your not trapped”, I suggest, something in me told me he wouldn’t turn this down.

And in fact, he didn’t. “That means a lot Yn. And I’ll try.. see if it’ll get me out of my stupid brain for a minute”. “Kurt your not stupid. Your just an over thinker. I am to. But I tell our dog” he breathes out a chuckle at my last sentence and I do to.

“Ok. When we get home we are going to have a calm night ‘k?”, he nods at me and lays his hand on my thigh as we con the drive.

Its heavy but I’m going through some stuff so yeah…

[yama-uba]

Oh Gods. I just searched for Buckshot Roulette and was relieved that I wasn't the only one who had a hyper fixation on this unusual demon or Monster.

Even 3 months ago, I noticed that this game, created in Mike Klubnika trademark off-putting, uncomfortable atmosphere, became more and more enjoyable the longer you played it. And Diller, similar to the characters from the dark game Vangers, loses his disgustingness in your eyes and begins to acquire some kind of specific piquant charm. But then I saw the art from the April update where his face/mask is contorted into this devilish smile with a cigarette, and his hyper-realistic hands are cradling a Browning A5. And something clicked in my poor brain and ovaries.

Oh, Mike, I'd pay 10 times more for a DLC where you could select your avatar's gender and appearance by typing (like Mindjourney's AI) and have a few questions with Diller between shots (Let this be the most banal integration of GPT chat, which plays the role of a character). This would be a "sissy" mode with an air gun that still does a one-shot if you choose the female gender. (Although, who am I kidding, I would always go for Gwen's look from TDA, because I'm sure that guy's "type" is definitely punk and old school goth girls)

I can’t answer why my mind is so captivated by this creature and I’m not even interested in winning the game. I want to know more about HIM. Who are you? Are you a demon? Pyramid Head's partner, specializing in the punishment and redemption of gambling addicts? Are you death? Are you the one who killed God or are you God? Is this your real face or a mask? Are you hiding your body in the dark? Is it not visible? Don't you have a body? You don't die if you lose, do you? Or do you know how to resurrect? Where do you get so much money to throw it away on beer, cigarettes, painkillers, a resuscitator and blood components for transfusion for everyone who agreed to play with you? Is this your hobby? What do you do for a living? (And what are your plans for this evening, after the game?) Is this your nightclub or do you know the owner so they can reserve the back room for you? Are these cameras for your "home video" collection or some show on the darknet? Does selling these guro videos provide money for the jackpot? Does taking risks give you so much pleasure? Are you aware that you have problems with gambling addiction and adrenaline addiction? Was it difficult to beat Adolf Hitler? And Kurt Cobain? Ernest Hemingway? DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?! What’s so special about her, besides her anorexic thinness and talent as a DJ at MMDMA-raves, that a quiet straight-A student with ADHD can’t give you?! Can’t I arrange the same heavy emotional swing?! =) And most importantly: How do you do it? How did you cross out millions of years of evolution and the most severe selection by making me think of yourself as a living man prone to risk? You're just a drawn grimace with two hypnotizing abysses instead of eyes. How did you do this?!

Afterword: Let me mention again that it was a big relief to realize that I was not alone in this strange *hit)

[sadnightforus]

THE FATED STARS (PJS) | SMAU

009 - KURT COBAIN’S FANSIGN

Park Jongseong harbors the biggest crush on one of the most popular girls on the campus, you. You, being dared by your friend group to tweet and made a boyfriend application, initially started out as a joke, thinking that no one would applied it. Upon the tweet going viral and many applications being sent in, he decided that he would shoot his shot, even if he doesn’t know a single shit about what is the sun, moon, rising in astronomy. 

WARNINGS: they tell each other to seek help, s**c*** jokes, mentioned of cheating.

A/N: I need to stir up a drama in this. It’s so all over the place.

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[deadnburied13]

Considered one of the most beautiful rock photographs ever, Ian Tilton's shot is a real foray into Kurt Cobain's evil. It was taken on September 22, 1990 during some rehearsals: Kurt smashed his guitar against the amplifier and then escaped backstage to release all his emotions: anger, frustration, pain.

Tilton immortalized all the imperfect, vulnerable humanity of an artist.