#Depression hit JD hard

[devotedly-perfect]

Uh yeah

HELLO

My first post on here

Hurrah

[isaacbookclub]

Huge thanks to my friend who attended the Alice Oseman Pop Up Shop this weekend for their photo of Alice’s reasons for each recommendation

THE CATCHER IN THE RYE BY JD SALINGER

This was one of the books that made me want to write SOLITAIRE. Essential reading for any fans of snarky narrators.

SUMMER BIRD BLUE BY AKEMI DAWN BOWMAN

It's hard to find aromantic/asexual representation infiction, but this is one of my favourites.

CONVENIENCE STORE WOMAN BY SAYAKA MURATA, TRANSLATED BY GINNY TAPLEY TAKEMORI

One of my favourite novels of the past few years, perfect for SOLITAIRE and LOVELESS fans. A story about one woman's alienation with modern society.

THE BLACK FLAMINGO BY DEAN ATTA

A beautiful and hopeful story about a teenage drag queen, written in verse.

HERE THE WHOLE TIME BY VITOR MARTINS

An adorable queer teen romance. HEARTSTOPPER fans will love this.

HOMEBODY BY THEO PARISH

This trans coming out story is so uplifting and affirming.

LAURA DEAN KEEPS BREAKING UP WITH ME BY MARIKO TAMAKI

I loved the complexity of the toxic relationship at the heart of this stunningly illustrated graphic novel.

IT'S LONELY AT THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH BY ZOE THOROGOOD

This graphic novel features a hard-hitting and honest portrayal of depression. A great choice for those who are drawn to the mental health themes in my works.

[blade-that-was-broken]

Not enough fics go into the concept that JD is a parentified eldest sibling with a plethora of mental health problems who was having a breakdown in the flashback and whose life only got more traumatic after that, who has probably had a few trips to the psych hospital over the years and his brothers are all people who are seemingly allergic to showing him or each other affection beyond being sarcastic assholes (jokingly) to eachother and how easily it would be for one of clay or Bruce or branch or even Floyd’s little joking comments to hit unintentionally way too hard, set off JDs mental health issues that he ignores until he has a breakdown, and cause him to spiral into a breakdown or a depressive episode. Like people write all the time about JD putting his foot in his mouth and accidentally traumatizing branch but I think branch’s sarcastic asshole commentary would make JD have a breakdown first.

I keep telling myself that this is a child's movie and I don't think the writers are taking this seriously AT ALL. Like, it's more just of this funny little movie about funky little trolls while they pepper in issues and trauma and throwaway lines about the most devastating things.

Personally, I don't think JD is as idk crazy/dumb? as people sometimes think? I think he was overly excited cause he learned his family was still alive after years and he was just so enthusiastic about seeing them. Couple that with the sleep deprivation, adrenaline and straight up anxiety over Floyd's rescue, I just can really understand a lot of John Dory's actions in the present and how he simply was. So I guess that would be part of him pushing his issues? Aside?

The argument at the end kind of pisses me off just a bit because sure, John might be being a little bossy but like I also get it? He's extremely worried about Floyd - he doesn't care about bossing them around or the Harmony - he's just worried about the life of his brothers and Bruce and Clay just... kind of get a little petty for my taste. Like guys, it's been twenty years. Geez.

Branch is... just generally rather sarcastic. John Dory has absolutely NO indication that any single one of his brothers want him back in their lives. Branch literally disowned him immediately (I give Branch a bit of slack because well, I kinda get he's upset and he does go through the mission slowly wanting his siblings around again even though he doesn't say anything - it's a process) so it's the one time where...

I don't think John put his foot in his mouth about that whole thing but recognizing that no one wanted him around and tried to be reassuring. Like, okay guys I know you are pissed at me but after this, you won't have to be - it's for Floyd. Branch is young and he takes it to heart immediately. I don't entirely blame him. Like I said, he's young. And John is just sitting here like.... WELP

John probably is a serious introvert at this point. Kind of like he can be really friendly with people and even make friends but since he spends SO much time alone for so long, those interactions are exhausting after a while now.

It's part of the reason when I write JD, he's always getting hugs. Literally I wrote a oneshot when Floyd is rescued he's just like yeah JD I'm super happy to see you and then gives him a giant hug. And then another one.

Its pretty clear John LOVES his siblings and he's not a bossy jerk just to be a bossy jerk.

[menalez]

i agree that in the end there's no one we detransitioners hurt more than ourselves. and i too have to admit that it also hurted immensely to watch your favourite media personalities turn to gender shit.

i was gnc even before i realised that im a lesbian. i grew up in eastern europe, and didn't know that real love between women is even possible, that its called being a lesbian. everything around me implied that im bound to marry a man in the end, give birth to children and be a mother. and it was scary. i secretly dreamt of waking up a boy one day because then i would be able to marry a nice girl. when i got my own access to the internet, i was exposed to even more misogyny and it made me spiral even further to the point of dreading growing up, feeling disgusted and trapped in my own body etc. but on the other hand i slowly found about homosexuality and other stuff. and so i discovered other gnc women. famous gnc women. when i was a teen, i think i had a celebrity crush on Rain Dove(i still find her very attractive), and listened to JD Samson and LP. (i sorta built my own teen separatist utopia in my online space, when i only watched and listened to and read what gnc and lesbian women had to offer) it was like a breath of fresh air for me. and then women who were just like me, whom i looked up to one by one started to proclaim themselves non-binary and proceed to promote that rhetoric further. it threw me back so hard i got depressed. i was bullied by my dad for "looking too much like Jolie's tif daughter". it took me long to stabilise myself back. im still dysphoric, some times feel worse than others, but nothing i can't bear really.

now i don't think that those women caused more damage than my misogynistic environment,my school, classmates, dance class, family, social media etc., they just reopened the old wound in an unstable teen. but i can't help feeling wronged by them a little bit. i don't place the whole blame on them, at least not equal to what misogynistic society's done to me first. as well as i don't think that their fault as celebrities is anywhere near to anything that a regular detrans woman may have of feel. but i do think that people like them, who helped to spread those ideologies, even if it came from their own traumas and discomfort caused by misogyny, have to take some responsibility for their actions, once they decide to detrans or desist. at least for leading young, gnc, lesbian, mentally ill or unstable, autistic girl to the gender bs.

(thanks for reading my rumbling. i can also call my feelings very subjective, because i acknowledge that after all this time i still feel angry at the world, and at the environment those women had become a part of, that led a little anxious insecure girl i was to think there was actually something wrong with her. can also be the case. bc page's transition also hit harder than i wanted, even though i already was a radfem)

btw shiloh jolie (john) is not trans, shes just a gnc girl and i think its awesome that her mom let her explore that stuff and called her john (as shiloh requested) bc its what allowed her to grow up to be gnc unapologetically rather than self-hating.

i get where ur coming from though, i think its a pretty toxic cycle in general, like many gnc women & girls buy into that ideology because of how it targets them & then further promote it which slowly impacts more and more gnc people negatively. i just think that people have a lot of unnecessary hostility and presumptiveness towards detrans people that acts like these detrans people were personally responsible for this cycle existing, as if they also werent harmed by that same rhetoric and aren't actively fighting against it by being vocal against it. that said, of course it's important to go against your past wrongs and to try to right them, my issue is that people assume the worst of detrans people & don't realise that its detrans people fighting against those wrongs the hardest right now, alongside gnc people.

[secretdelalunee]

Life Updates!

Well hi!

It’s been 7months since i wrote my last life updates. We’ll see apa aja yang terjadi dr 7bln lalu sampai hari ini, i’ll recap it:

Long story short, NOTHING MUCH🙂

Seperti biasa diawali kepusingan, keluhan, dll. Cuman ada tambahan aja skg CICILAN banyak bgt broh yaallah puyeng bgt pala w.

Since terakhir gue update mau ketemu Kim Mingyu on September, well alhamdulillah it happens😭💕

Gue berhasil mencintai grup ini sepenuhnya man, i met them on September, oh ga lupa fansign pas baru sampe bgt di BKK at the end of Sept, then go to BETS in BKK to see them again on Oct, terus surprisingly mereka bikin Additional Show di JKT on Dec😭😭😭 gw bokek bgt but i made it anyway makasih ya Allah.

And… apparently… gue baru plg dr Korea bcs i’m attending CARATLAND 2023😭💕

No words are enough for you bener dah Kim Mingyu saat ini kebahagiaan gue lo doaaanggg.

The Post Concert Depression really hit me hard, terus puyeng bayarin cicilan. Tapi hepi sih, tp puyeng, tp hepiii.

Di karir, nothing much. Really.

I’m planning to move and trying to get a scholarship (again) tapi belum nemu waktu yang banyak untuk urus2 lg berkas huhu, gue msh pengen jd dosen tp sepertinya kehidupan fangirling ini butuh modal yg banyak yh🙃

I’m actually kinda confused dan ngerasa terlalu bablas (financially) akhir2 ini. I need to control them or i really need a new and better job for sure…

Ya Allah, intinya aku tuh masih figure out aku mau ngapain, jadi apa, fokus kemana… But i’m trying.

Fangirling is the only way i can escape from sucks reality, semoga keputusan2 gue ini tetap bijak ya. Semoga rejeki gue selalu diluaskan, dimudahkan, menjadi semangat buat gue untuk do better, untuk semakin dekat sama cita2 gue. As you guys said, we should go together right?

Thank you for existing, udah nemenin bener2 24/7 keseharian dan naik turunnya kehidupan gue. Huhuhu masih mellow banget kl denger kaci gayo😭

[lesbianfreyja]

hi, i’m sorry, this is probably not the right place to do this, i just really need to get this out somewhere & you seem to like. actually have some common sense, so anyway, this is about the popularized dv trial going on right now, so if you don’t want to read it/don’t have the capacity/whatever, i completely understand. it’s so disgusting bc like. even the people around me in real life have started to repeat the jd*pp talking points and it’s like i literally cannot exist anywhere in peace, even offline, i cannot exist anywhere without a reminder that these self-professed “feminists” and “supporters of victims” can and will take any opportunity to side with an abuser when the victim is imperfect and will turn cases like these, which are going to have and already have had a profound impact on the way people see victims of dv, into a joke or a series of “gotcha!” memes when the victim isn’t acting how you want her to / doesn’t look depressed and angry and upset 24/7 like. can they get a grip?? it seems like none of them even want to acknowledge that, despite all the odds being against victims, aheard has literally won case after case against him (not that court cases are a reliable marker of abuse, but as we know, it’s way harder to prove it & win a case as a victim than it is to win as a defendant) and this is literally a trial over an article that she didn’t even name him in. like it literally makes me sick because people i once called my friend are treating this as a joke and making an absolute mockery out of this whole thing, and if i say anything to them about it, i’m just hit with a “you don’t believe male victims exist?” and immediately shut down. like no, obviously male victims can & do exist, this rich man with a ton of power in hollywood who has been proven in a court of law (again, not adding this bc it’s the be-all-end-all marker of abuse, just because it’s really fucking hard to prove and she did) time and time again to have committed dv just isn’t one of them & even if she hit back at some point or stood up to him, there’s a difference between self defense and abuse! i had someone tell me that there was a recording of her going “who’s going to believe you?” to him, which, like, first of all, i don’t know if that’s true, but second of all, that definitely sounds like it could be something he could’ve said to her as he was abusing her and she could’ve repeated, so ???? i don’t understand how that’s some kind of like. definitive evidence. and like i have literally blacklisted their names on twitter and shit about the trial still slips through the cracks, and as a dv victim myself, it just makes me so fucking sick to see and have to hear about not just online or on twitter, but by people i thought i could trust. and i don’t even understand what the big deal is about this man anyway?? not that it would matter if he was actually relevant for anything, but like i do not know a single person who was batting for him this hard before these trials/this last trial in particular & whenever i ask about it, people are like “oh, i don’t even like him that much, i just ____” like i don’t get it y’all do not know this man PLEASE get a fucking grip

i’m very sorry you went through that ❤️ i think it’s an indicator that people backing amber are actively trying not to watch the case but frustrated for victims, meanwhile they’re being bombarded with meme videos from people who believe anything they read on twitter but when asked clearly don’t know the first thing about what the trial is even about. which one sounds like we actually advocate for victims??? not the one using audios of her describing her sexual assault and saying they’d love it if he did that. it’s disgusting and devastating that she goes through this every two years like clockwork since they divorced. it’s so devastating what this reveals about how men were only tolerating Me Too and i hope womankind can come back from the damage it’ll do, but my heart’s with the women who WILL feel its immediate aftereffect in the next few years

[rudystree]

Rudy Pankow - Interview Compilation

This is by no means all of Rudy’s interviews, but some main ones that I love. I could scream about each one forever 🥰

Bubble Support Series - Mental Health

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CL20B_VpNMy/?igshid=w1cbdehxll64

Rudy being absolutely adorable with his friend Lacy and talking about all things mental health related. He gives really good advice and it’s just great to listen to him speak about such important issues. They talk about depression, anxiety, her trauma response and bipolarity, and how to practice self care during this pandemic. Also he looks stunning.

Marie Claire - Bookshelf Tour

https://youtu.be/Vox4jxr-P3o

If you’re like me and you’re attracted to intelligent and educated men, please watch this. He’s so eloquent in describing his love for books and plays and how he connects it to his acting abilities and self-determination. He also explains why he loves to sit and read in trees.

Tommy DiDario - Life & Filming Season 2

https://youtu.be/n5cmMuIvWsk

This might just be my favorite. Rudy talks about how he became interested in acting, his big move to LA, getting the role, what it’s like filming season 2 during a pandemic, and his bond with the cast. He gets really personal about his fears and what he wants out of life in general. He also describes OBX2 as a “shocker” and that he was wrong in his predictions for the show. Plus he just looks absolutely stunning and shows off his cool lights.

Chicks in the Office - Judy

https://youtu.be/YA684ButGxM

This is such a must watch. Rudy and JD talking about their casting of OBX, their bromance, and everything in between. I love how they bring up the fact that they’ve both been working minimum wage odd jobs before being cast and how they supported each other during the whole process.

MTV News - The Golden Trio

https://youtu.be/rBGbmJeeyKI

My babies! I love these three together so much. This is such a cute, sappy interview about their characters and their storylines and their romances plus lots of joking around.

Google Talks - Rudison

https://youtu.be/-Z0EqptU4Yg

Rudy and Madison really go in deep during this one. Everything from Rudy’s weariness around social media and tech to Madison’s pan-sexuality. Rudy also talks about how he gets in the headspace for the abuse scenes. They discuss social injustice, body image on the show, how to cope during the pandemic, and how they relate to their characters, plus so much more.

Popternative

https://youtu.be/tQTGpSUaWUc

I loved listening to Rudy’s perspective on the entertainment industry being kind of narcissistic and how easy it is to become full of yourself. He explains how everyone in the world can relate to JJ and how that’s the reason he fell in love with him. Also how his mom wasn’t the biggest fan of his character being a total stoner lol. But the cutest part was him talking about his family and how they made like a little mini OBX premiere for him at his house in Alaska, with like a carpet out of napkins and everyone got dressed up...yeah it’s just so damn wholesome. He also is too embarrassed to share the places he went to get food in Charleston lmao. And JD’s life mission is to get the cast on Hot Ones.

Elle Magazine

https://youtu.be/NHdnIo3qgmY

This one is so interesting in how he reasons his choice to play JJ instead of John B. He says ‘housekeeping’ for the billionth time and talks a lot about JJ and what it’s like filming on location for OBX. This one’s cool because he shares a lot of interesting details I hadn’t heard before, like the fact that he had to learn how to take guns apart and put them back together for JJ’s character training or why filming on the boats was really hard.

AfterBuzz TV

https://youtu.be/37vp9iBix0w

Rudy talks so effortlessly in this one again and I love hearing him tell stories. He mentions how filming the Politician helped ease some stress from acting in front of crowds and prepared him for those big scenes in OBX. He also talks about filming in Charleston and how he grew up in a musical family.

Tings Magazine

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CAZBdDOgeMa/?igshid=a2hbz0o7wx3

aka Rudy eats a ton of food to support local restaurants while talking about...everything. This is probably the best live to watch if you know nothing about Rudy because he gives a full background to his life, including what it was like growing up in Alaska and how he made the decision to leave. He talks about how difficult his transition to LA was and how he grounded himself in acting. Plus how getting famous during Covid is kinda weird. The cutest thing ever is him talking about first meeting each of the Pogues (poor baby had a bit of separation anxiety in quarantine lmao). Oh, and he speaks Japanese again!

CBS Talks

https://youtu.be/h7ct3N6eU1Q

Talking about season 1, getting into character, improv, fame, the pandemic, social injustice, Alaskan wilderness shows, and much more. Interesting bit about how his parents were having a hard time understanding his passion, but his mom’s regret of never pursuing gymnastics fueled her support for his acting endeavors.

Additional Interviews:

http://thesaricohen.com/interview-outer-banks-rudy-pankow-strikes-gold-in-the-new-netflix-series/ (April, 2020)

https://www.ketchikanradio.com/on-demand/first-city-forum/episode/interview-with-rudy-pankow-along-with-a-special-forest-service-update/ (May, 2020)

https://www.elitedaily.com/p/rudy-pankow-is-new-to-this-22979134 (June, 2020)

https://www.photobookmagazine.com/features/2020/6/6/summer-fun-with-rudy-pankow (June, 2020)

https://thepcprinciple.com/?p=13359 (April, 2020)

https://www.wonderlandmagazine.com/2020/04/29/rudy-pankow-outer-banks-jj/ (April, 2020)

https://flaunt.com/content/rudy-pankow-outer-banks (April, 2020)

https://www.google.com/amp/s/uk.news.yahoo.com/amphtml/outer-banks-star-rudy-pankow-213000301.html (April, 2020)

https://www.google.com/amp/s/frenchfries-mag.com/interview/2020/5/20/behind-closed-doors-with-rudy-pankow%3fformat=amp (May, 2020)

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.usmagazine.com/entertainment/news/outer-banks-rudy-pankow-jj-kiara-may-be-end-game/amp/ (April, 2020)

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Eight

Very late, I'm sorry, I just couldn't post it without tweaking things here and there because I'm a little bitch that wants to get this right. I hope everyone has had a good Christmas!!

Words: 4k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, explicit sexual situations

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"It's not a death sentence, Viv." Sharise assures me in the back of the limo. 

"I've really been a lunatic, Sharise, and it's not just because people have overexaggerated about how I've been acting--it's because I've actually been fucking crazy." I state as she sips her champagne. "I have a diagnosis and new medication to prove it." 

"Is it ever gonna go away?" She asks me next, furrowing her brows a little. 

"Nope, but it sure as shit can get worse." I tell her. "There's two strains of it and I have the second one which is just shorter spells of mania--a.k.a being a fucking looney tune--and leaning more depressive--a.k.a staying in bed for three months straight and not wanting my husband to touch me despite just getting married." 

"You're not crazy." She argues, lightly kicking at my leg with her heel. "You just have an imbalance in your brain. It's annoying, yeah, but you're not crazy." 

"I just don't want Nikki to leave me over this. Nothing screams stable marriage like bipolar disorder and heroin addiction." 

"Shut up, you're okay, Nikki's okay, you guys will be okay." She assures me. 

I think back to what his therapist wants us to do Wednesday...I can't tell him I'm pregnant. I haven't even told Duff and he should be the first one I tell. 

I feel like as soon as I tell Nikki, it really will be over. 

I get nauseous, my mouth watering. 

"I need air." I pull the sunroof back and stand up, try to calm down, my eyes closing and my head leaning back as we stop at a red-light. 

I hear the obnoxious rumble of a motorcycle coming to a stop in the lane beside us, and groan. 

"Whew!" I hear a familiar voice call. "Your old man let you outta the house?!" Robbin yells over his the noise of his bike and I look over. 

"He's in rehab!" I reply. 

"No shit!" He chuckles. "Whatcha doin'?!"

"Getting some air!"

"There's plenty of air over here!" He informs me. "Come get on!" He gives a grin. 

"I'm good!" 

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, I've only had a couple shots!"

"Couple shots of what, is the question!" I reply. 

"I'm not high!" He states. "Come on!"

I look at him, considering it. 

"You look too damn good to be riding around in a blacked out car where nobody can see you!" He adds and I roll my eyes. "Come get on the damn bike, Viv, a couple blocks won't kill you!" 

I rub my lips together, seeing that the light is gonna turn in a minute. 

"You're gonna get me in trouble!" I say, going to pull my heels off. 

"Not much more than what you're already in!" He says back. 

I sigh out and start to climb out of the sunroof and he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly before he ignores the cars behind him and kicks the stand of the bike down, coming and grabbing my waist to help me down the car. 

"You look like sex on ten-foot legs!" He adds and I shake my head, pushing at him playfully as we get on his motorcycle. 

"Where the hell are you going?!" Sharise pokes her head out of the roof. 

"I'll catch up to you in a minute!" I tell her.

"Viv--" the light turns green and Robbin doesn't waste any time with getting gone, cutting Sharise short. 

I don't know if it's the loudness of the bike, mixed with the wind and Black Sabbath blaring through speakers I'm assuming he managed to beg someone to build into the Harley, or him smelling like a bar, so I know he's probably drunk and I'm focused on not getting myself killed, but I manage to get my mind off of all the bullshit that just seems to keep getting heaped on loads at a time.

We get to the Cathouse, eventually, which is where Sharise and I were headed, and Robbin comes to a stop and parks his bike and I swing my leg back over the side and put my heels back on, reaching for the strap to buckle it, but failing. 

Before I can grab it, he's crouching down and putting my foot on his knee, fastening it for me before he does the other. 

"Thank you." I tell him as he finishes. 

"Wouldn't want you to break a nail." He replies sarcastically.

"Ha ha, smartass." I state and he chuckles, standing up, as I think back to earlier. 

"What 'trouble' am I in?" I ask him. 

"You think I didn't see you come running in with Duff while Nikki was OD'ing?"

"You managed to see that while you were running out of the room to get outta dodge?" I ask him, smartly. 

"I helped Slash's girlfriend for a minute while they were getting you and Duff." He explains. "I got out of there before you had a caniption and killed all of us." 

"I wouldn't have killed you." I argue. "Make you wish you were dead, sure, but actually kill you, no." 

He smiles a little and rubs his lips together. 

"So, Nikki knows about you two?"

"Yeah."

"And he still wants to work things out?"

"Yeah...no reason for him not to when he cheated on me with Vanity, first." 

He just smiles and nods. 

"I'm glad you two are doing that." He tells me. "I was really bummed when I heard he'd filed for divorce." 

"Well, we're not outta the woods yet." I mumble and he furrows his brows. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'm knocked up, Robbin." I blurt, and he looks down at me with this expression on his face of confusion and unamusement.

"That shit's not funny, Viv." He states to me.

"I'm fucking pregnant, Robbin, I'm not trying to be funny." 

I snap out of it when Robbin repeats his question, "what do you mean?" 

"Oh, sorry...I don't know...I forgot what I was gonna say." I say next, wishing I could actually tell him I'm pregnant.

When we get inside and get to VIP, Sharise is sitting with her arms crossed, brows raised at me when I sit down. 

"What?" I ask her. 

"You ditched me for a boy." She tells me, pouting. 

"I didn't ditch you." I reply. 

"You so ditched me."

"...Yeah, I did." I admit, smiling and she nudges me with her elbow, saying, "you better be glad he's cute or I'd be more pissed over it," and I laugh as she finishes her drink.

After a night of dancing and pretending I'm not reaping the consequences of my exponential crisis, I'm dropped off at home. 

When I get inside, I see flowers on the small table in the foyer, and smile a little, seeing the little card that reads, "VIVIAN." 

I pluck the paper from the vase and turn it over to read it. 

See you Wednesday

—Nikki

My smile grows wider before slowly falling. 

I'm not sure he'll even want to be with me after Wednesday. 

I feel guilty because I know he's probably decently looking forward to getting all of this over with and starting over, yet here I come with a damn baby. 

Putting the card back with the flowers and placing them on the kitchen counter, I go to my bathroom to get a shower. 

Once I'm done, I'm staring at myself in the mirror, studying to see if there's any noticeable changes…

My boobs are slightly bigger, nothing too, too obvious--I guess Doc's observant. 

I do look like I'm glowing a little bit, but I can blame that on starting fresh with Nikki and how happy I am because of it. 

I open the bathroom drawer and pick up the little ultrasound picture I had taken. 

A sick part of me has been hoping I'd miscarry by now so I wouldn't have to turn mine, Nikki's and Duff's lives into a shitshow, but I was told the baby's healthy. 

I'm not sure why the hell my body refused to grow anything in it, I guess I should've looked into it after my third miscarriage in a row, but I didn't want to pry at myself. I just wanted to forget I was pregnant at all. 

I regret that, now, though...I don't want to get a couple months in and BAM! no more baby, like in the beginning of '86. I should've looked into it earlier and so I could have figured out what was causing it so I couldn't let it happen anymore. 

Despite us not speaking in years, I was certain my mother had, indeed, still managed to screw me over one last time. My uterus was septated and had gone unnoticed in ultrasounds for years--either by the hands of shitty technology or shitty technicians and doctors that didn't say anything about it. Apparently it was a genetic mutation that women could be born with and was a mystery in itself, but a part of me always blamed my mom.

September 1987

"Wait, wait, wait," I chuckle, Duff's lips on my neck. 

Before I even realize what's happening, my back is hitting the mattress of the bed I share with Nikki while Duff's lips are tugging along the skin of my neck, coaxing a light vapor of moans from my throat while I grab at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head. 

Mine's next, lips pressing down my chest as his hands slide under my back to get my bra off. 

My back arches to let the fabric escape, all while my hands pull at my panties, getting them down my legs before I'm kicking them off, the two of us chuckling, his lips coming back to mine while he goes for his belt buckle. 

It's hard to pretend he's Nikki, like I catch my mind trying to do, because he's not as rough as Nikki is. His kiss is sweet and gentle--not weak by any means, and its still hot, but Nikki's is dominantly aggressive and attentive without even meaning to be…

"Condom," Duff says pulling his lips from mine. 

"We don't have any." I tell him, catching my breath. 

"...I'll see if I have some in the car." 

"You can just pull out." I suggest, not wanting him to give me time to change my mind about this. 

"Are you sure?" He asks me, fingertips running over my cheek. 

"Yes." I grin and he slowly smiles and leans down again, kissing me. 

I screw my eyes shut when he slowly pushes into me, letting out a groan under his breath while I take in a sharp breath, nails biting into his back. 

"Are you okay?" He asks me, and I nod, eyes still closed. 

"Yeah." I sigh out, hands grabbing at his arms, nails biting into the tattoo on his bicep as he pulls out of me and pushes back inside, huffing out a sharp breath, his forehead against mine as I lean up and kiss him, humming as he starts thrusting into me steadily, overwhelmingly so.

Unlike Nikki, he's not ferociously aggressive for the most part. He's more so gently aggressive. 

I can't contain the near squeak that emits from my throat as he continues in and out of me, my arms and legs desperate to get him as close to me as possible.

The more I show that I'm feeling good, the more comfortable he gets, and the more deliberate his movements are. 

"It--" I'm cut short when he pushes against my cervix, and my eyes roll back. 

He's about to pull back out but I wrap my legs around him and pull him back in as I beg, "no, no, please, right there." 

He looks down at me, eager to please, looking me in the eye as he pushes against it, again, a sharp shiver shuttering up my back and I cry out, arching my back when his fingers go to my clit. 

My hands dig into the sheets, gasps and whimpers leaving me as he watches me, patiently, like he's studying me in the throes of stupidity and pleasure.  

I'm trying to crawl away when he grins and starts hounding at me, repeatedly hitting the spot in me that has tears pooling in my eyes from pleasure. 

"Please, don't stop." I ask him, my voice weak, and he sits back on his knees, pulling me onto him, grabbing my hips, guiding quick movements into me, making my thighs tense up while he looks down at my tits and the sight of him fucking me, before his eyes catch at my hip bone. 

"Do you like it?" I ask him and he runs his thumb over the "D" in my skin and looks at me before kissing me, quickening his pace again, hitting my sweet spot once more several times while I tighten around him. 

"Are you gonna come?" He asks me, and I nod, not able to speak. 

I push him down to the mattress and straddle him before I brace myself on his chest and start riding him. 

"Fuck," he says as he watches me, probably not able to believe we're having sex. 

My orgasm hits me in a wave, my head back, my hands moving over his on my waist, before he sits up and pulls my lips to his hotly, our tongues dancing as he wraps his arms around me. 

In a couple more minutes, he's holding me still while thrusting up into me desperately, and I feel my brain swimming on dopamine as sweat rolls down my spine. 

"I'm gonna come." He tells me, shutting his eyes and licking his lips for a second before looking down at himself going in and out of me. 

"Then come." I say softly, leaning forward, kissing, licking, and biting up his neck. 

Duff lets out a sharp breath, his hands pulling me down onto him while he gives one last thrust into me, warmth spreading throughout me as his cum coats my insides. 

"Fuck." I whimper out, my hips flexing, at the feeling. 

"How the fuck could he cheat on you?" He asks me, reeling off his sex-high, his eyes running all over my glistened skin before he's sitting up, wrapping his arms around me. "You're so fucking flawless." He adds and I smile at him, brushing the hair from his face before kissing him. 

Once I get off of him and lay beside him in the bed, he's looking up at our mirrored ceiling, that's recently been replaced ever since I broke it throwing a tantrum. 

"That was…" I start, realizing what I'd just done, and he looks at me, his brows furrowed slightly. 

"Are you okay?" He asks me, sitting up, probably thinking I'm about to cry. 

"Yes, I'm fine." I assure him. "It's just strange to have sex without being left right after." I add, remembering the more times than not that Nikki would leave to go out after we got done. 

"I'm not leaving." He tells me, his hand brushing against my cheek. 

"I know." I reply, closing my eyes, my face resting against the pillow as tiredness creeps up on me. 

He lays back down beside me, pulling me closer to him, and comfort consumes my body…

...Right before the roaring of Nikki's Harley pulling into the driveway shatters it.

I snap up, Duff doing the same. 

"Is that…?" He asks me, eyes wide. 

"Shit!" I whisper yell, the two of us getting out of bed. 

He nearly trips, pulling his jeans back on, and I'm pulling my silk robe on, grabbing Duff's shoes, heading for the guest bedroom closet. 

Once he's hidden, having to crouch uncomfortably to fit under the shelf, I'm running back to our room, spraying a few sprays of my perfume to throw off the sex smell.

I rush to the bathroom to wet a washcloth and get Duff's cum, that's leaking down my legs now, off, just as I hear Nikki's boots stomping into our room. 

I finish cleaning up as fast as possible and get back out there to see him shirtless. 

"H-Hey." I nervously greet him, regretting not fixing my hair from its roused state. 

He glances at me and does a double take, his eyes snaking up my exposed legs before he's looking at me. 

A slick smirk falls on his lips as he says:

"Whatcha been doing?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, eyes wide. 

"I know what you look like post-orgasm, Viv. There's no shame in having fun with yourself." He adds and I nearly sigh out with relief. He thinks I've been masterbating. Perfect. "Infact," he steps closer, making me step back until my back hits the wall, and he puts his hand beside my head, trapping me in, "it's really hot." 

I shift uncomfortably as his other hand moves to the curve of my hip, slipping under the robe to palm at my ass cheek, and I have to force myself to hold back a moan when his hand suddenly comes down to harshly give one good smack to my flesh before rubbing over my stinging skin. 

"Don't stop just because I pulled up." He tells me, motioning to the messy bed. "Keep doing your thing and I'll just observe." He grins, his hand moving to my throat. "Might even get the camera out like the good ole days." 

I can't seem to make myself talk, my breathing heavy, my tongue being bit between my teeth. 

We stare at each other another moment before he loses his grin and runs the thumb of his other hand across my lip. 

He leans down and I let out a breath. 

"Nikki," I start softly, about to pull away as best as I can but he stops me, pressing his lips to mine for a second. 

Our tongues meet soon after, and he's running his hands down my back, before pulling me up to wrap my legs around his waist, causing me to let out a moan as my back's against the wall while he threads his fingers through my hair. 

I snap out of it when my back hits the mattress, his hands sliding under my robe to run over my stomach, up my ribs to run over my breasts before grazing down my sides. 

"Nikki." I say after a moment, the two of us catching our breath. 

"Take your robe off." He ignores me, pressing a kiss to the center of my chest. 

"Nikki, no." I deny him. "It wouldn't be smart for us to do that."

"Why not? You've already drawn up divorce papers or something?" He stands up, pulling away from me.

"You're drunk." I bite at him, annoyed. "And what are you doing home? You don't come back home until morning, usually." 

"Tommy puked on me, I had to change shirts." He says. "Not that I owe you a fucking explanation."

"Never said you did, Nikki. It was just a question."

"No, but you're looking pissed that I'm here so that's why I am."

"I'm not pissed, can you stop assuming things?" 

"Whatever, Viv." He grumbles as I stand up, too. 

"Yeah, whatever, Nikki." 

"Oh my God, just shut the fuck u--" he stops abruptly, and I'm confused until I see he's focused on my hip bone, that's been exposed by my robe failing me when it shifts, and I see he's focused on the "D" on my hip. 

He steps closer to me, angling his head in every direction to see it clearly, even laying on the carpet and looking at it from below, the same confused expression on his face. 

When he gets off the floor, he's on his knees, holding at my hips to look at it from centimeters away. 

"Nikki, cut it out." I scold him, trying to move away from him but he stops me. 

"Ya know, the funniest thing is happening. I haven't taken anything hallucinogenic, but I swear I see a 'D' on your hip bone." He tells me and I finally get out of his grip as he stands back up, studying my expression. "Oh, hell fucking no, you did n--I know you do not have a fucking 'D' on your fucking body."

I had one in me a few minutes ago.

"It's not a 'D', Nikki." 

"I may not have graduated but I know my ABCs, Vivian, and that's a fucking 'D'!" 

"It's a Roman numeral for '100'!" I say back, smartly. "To represent the least number of times you fucked Vanity while we were together, so I'll never forget!" 

"We're still together, Vivian!" He screams.

"Really?! Is that why you screw groupies almost every night on the road?!" 

"Because I get lonely because my wife refuses to acknowledge me without screaming my fucking head off!"

"You were screwing another woman even when I wasn't perpetually angry at you, Nikki, what the fuck are you talking about 'lonely'?!" 

"You know what I mean!" He yells back. "See, I can't even come home without you starting a fucking fight!" 

"Then freaking get out!" I throw my hands up. 

"I am!" He shouts, getting his shirt on and grabbing the keys to his bike and heading to the door and I follow him. 

"Good!" I scream back. 

He leaves, slamming the door, and I exhale sharply, forcing back tears, letting out a frustrated groan before throwing one of our wedding photos at the wall. 

When I start back to our room, Duff is cautiously waiting in the hallway looking at me with a sad expression. 

"Don't worry about it." I assure him, kissing his cheek, before stepping back to the bedroom. 

"Don't worry about it." He didn't have anything to worry about then, but look at what five months did.

I shut the door of my car, looking at the apartment Duff's now sharing with Mandy, and let out a breath. 

Tucking the picture of a teeny-tiny little thing growing in me into my purse, I head up and knock on his door hesitantly, hearing Mandy call, "coming!" 

She opens the door and her eyes light up when she sees me, a big grin coming to her face, a softness to her sweet eyes that makes my stomach turn with nausea. 

"Hey, Viv!" She greets me, stepping aside as if it's muscle memory. 

Why does she have to make this so hard on me? Why can't she be a raging bitch? 

"Hey, Mandy." I reply, going inside, glancing around. 

"What's up?" She asks and I rub my lips together. 

"I really need to talk to you and Duff." I reply and she furrows her brows. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Just have a seat." I tell her. 

"O-Okay…" she goes to the living room and sits down. "Duff, c'mere!" She calls as I sit across from her, nervously fumbling with my hands. 

"What's u--hey, Viv." He says, smiling at me as he dries his hair with a towel. 

"She said she needs to talk to us." Mandy says, her tone causing him to look at me, cautiously. 

"What's wrong?" He asks and I can hear my blood pressure in my ears. 

"...I just...really, really, need to tell you something important." I say as he sits down. 

"Alright." He clears his throat, the two of them staring at me and I realize I'm not freaking talking to them at all. 

Just looking at them like a scared puppy. 

"What's going on, Viv?" He asks me. 

I decide maybe speaking right away is best, opening my purse and grabbing the photo, leaning forward to hand it to him. 

He takes it and Mandy both look at it where I have him/her circled in a red marker, confused…

"Is this…" Mandy starts and stops, eyes shooting up at me. "Are you pregnant, Vivian?" 

I swallow the lump in my throat. 

"I'm pregnant." I admit out loud. 

A smile comes to their faces, which throws me off completely. 

"This is good, isn't it?" Duff asks me, handing the picture back, "I mean, you and Nikki are working things out and he's sobering up...I think it's a good thing, you know?" He shrugs, his smile reaching ear to ear.

"Yeah." Mandy agrees and I have to take deep breaths to keep from crying. 

"Duff, Mandy," I start, my voice cracking, "Duff," I repeat and his smile slowly, very, very, slowly fades as if he knows exactly what I'm saying before I finally say, "I'm pregnant."

[ageofevermore]

can i pls request more rudy little sister pls... i just feel like he would be the best big brother especially to a sister. maybe like him helping her through depression/anxiety or advice about relationships thank u

thank you for the request! and i will def be doing the relationship advice one as well! x

He had her to thank for the authenticity of his performance. He had gone to her about the softest of subjects and listened as she debriefed the illnesses that corrupted her common sense from time to time. A topic she was usually close minded towards. 

Stepping into the role of JJ Maybank was what he had worked for as an actor, however it left him with a heavy responsibility to authentically bring to life the struggle of an abuse victim. She had never been caught up in the web of mistreatment, however her mind was tinted with the degrading self reflections of an anxiety disorder. She walked him through the breakdowns that hit at random times, the depressive lows that struck for weeks at a time, and the hyperactive highs that caused concern. She told her about her triggers, how sometimes it was an unexpected touch, or a conversational topic; explained to him the delicacy of coping with unfortunate events. She poured herself out to him, and he had never been more appreciative of her. It hadn’t just given him a better understanding of JJ’s tendencies, but for the first time, he was truly seeing who his little sister was as her own person. She was incredibly strong minded and determined, something he never doubted but didn’t know the true extent of. 

As kids they did everything together, thick as thieves despite the nearly five year age difference. When she started breaking away from the bulk of her family, riddled with insecurities and insufferable mental anguish, he took it harder then she had when they finally had the diagnosees. Depression and anxiety had stripped him of a lively sister willing to leave the confines of their alaskan ranch in the dead of midnight to build snowmen, but he had found her again after nearly two years of her own self discovery and realignment. 

She had been in Charleston for a few weeks now, studying beneath her brother's boss who had been kind enough to extend her an internship opportunity upon hearing of her interest in film creation. She had been reluctant to take the job, knowing how hard Rudy had worked to score the role, she never wanted to undermine his efforts and so easily feed off of what he had made for himself. It had taken almost three weeks for Rudy and Jonas to convince her to fly down to South Carolina after her last day of school, and spend the summer months of her educational holiday wrapped up in script composure and production. 

It had been a feel good job for the most part, but as she woke in the apartment meant to be solely her brothers and Chase’s, her heart felt heavy in her chest with impossible guilt she thought she squandered months prior. It wasn’t the first time she had woken with an impossible weight on her chest, but it was the first time since leaving Alaska that she felt guilt for working off of what Rudy had made. She recited to herself  as often as she could that feeling bad was ridiculous, she wasn’t getting paid, and her name wasn’t being included in the ending cards, it was all educational, however the more she told herself that the more she felt insignificant. She felt small in the social setting, a longing for Alaska taking her captive. 

Had her blonde hair not brushed against Chases shoulder on her way to the door, neither male would have noticed her presence. She was silent on her journey to her vans, character clad feet slipping on the hardwood until she found a snug home in her white slip ons.

“Josie,” Her brother called for her just before she could slip through the front door without so much of a goodbye to either male, “Why don’t you come with us today?” Chase suggested before Rudy could propose the same argument. 

In the two months since her arrival, Chase had come to be a fourth brother to the soft spoken, strong-willed, determined Alaskan girl who every so often gave into the nightmares living within her mind. He hated seeing her so withdrawn from the social settings he and Rudy created. He had known her for only a few months, but she had been transparent about the telltale signs of her struggle. Rudy sighed when he watched her brow crinkle in rejection, before she forced a smile at the two of them and was on her way to Lilah’s, the same as it was every morning. Only this time, she left her happiness lingering somewhere in the guest bedroom. 

Chase and Rudy shared a look, the men knowing the great difficulties of understanding little sisters -- especially little sisters who thought they didn’t deserve help when they were drowning. 

--

She was laughing with Madison and Lilah when Madelyn and JD came into the trailer, wide grins on their sweaty overworked faces. The day had just paused for lunch, and upon seeing the hazy film in her eyes, Jonas had insisted that she join the cast for their lunch break. Usually that didn’t happen, as she was either at another location working in the office space, or she was shadowing a few of the directors and producers while everyone else ate in the tents adjacent to the Tanneyhill set. 

JD attacked the blonde girl in a tight squeeze, having missed her cold and cuddly embraces. The girls hands and feet were always cold as a mid-winter alaskan icicle, a refresher after spending many hours beneath the unrelenting Charleston sunlight. They were all crammed into a single trailer, hot, sweaty bodies pressed together trying to enjoy the light circulation of the air conditioning. 

“What’a’do girl?” Drew exclaimed, hand outstretched ready to clap against hers. Their fingers curled against each other in a classic brotherly embrace, and she cringed away from the clammy skin of his palms against her knuckles. 

“That’s absolutely disgusting.” She cringed, shrieking in laughter when Drew advanced and rubbed his sweaty hands down her bare thighs, sending her shaking body into JD’s lap. The boy that had previously been fondling her icy hands in content, groaned at the sudden presence of her weight against softer parts of his body. “Sorry, Jed.”

“You’re not with the production team today?” Lilah asked, leaning over and snagging the iced tea that had been in Madelyn’s hands. The two blondes shared playful looks of annoyance before listening to her shrug her shoulders, “I got told that I could take lunch.” 

She watched Lilah frown, having known the way her father worked and understanding that he usually never gave his interns time to breathe. He liked feeding them all the opportunities and information he could whilst simultaneously running around like a chicken with his head cut off. 

“So did Elaine.” Austin hummed, having been beside the brunette intern when she was gifted with the rare break of lunch. A weight was lifted off of her shoulders, the paranoia that Jonas was fed up with her hazy mindset slipping away into a dark corner. 

She smiled at the beautiful people around her, somehow displaced from the utopia of opportunities sitting right beneath her fingertips. 

-

As she laid in bed that night, head cloudy with the madness of what her life had become, the bedroom door opened allowing a passage of light to coat the midnight walls gold. She shifted from her curled up position, eyeing the blonde figure as they moved through the night and surrendered to the shadow of the moon. 

“Hey.” He whispered as he slung himself against the length of the bed, nuzzling beneath the covers and turning so her was face to face with her. In the darkness he couldn’t see the tracks of moisture against her cheeks, but he knew her well enough to recognize the tremble of her shoulders. 

“Hey.” She mumbled back, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, annoyed with the tickle of a tear beneath her eyelashes. “Sorry.” 

Rudy frowned, searching for her hand in the dead of the darkness and bringing warmth to her anxiously cold digits. She always ran colder when she was anxious, and he couldn’t help but brush his hand along her arm on certain days when she was giving off a mix of warning signs and hormones. “What are you sorry for?” 

“Feeling like this.” She sniffled, “I know you told me you didn’t do jack shit, but I just feel like you worked for this. This is your dream. I feel like I'm piggybacking and that’s the last thing I want.” 

Rudy frowned, wishing he could somehow just prove to her that this wasn’t just some charity work being thrown out to younger siblings in need of a little motivation. Jonas had seen her previous projects and aspiring indie films. He had asked Rudy about your willingness to join him for an internship, but of course Rudy had never told her that while performing a background check on him, Josh and Jonas had stumbled upon her. It just never seemed relevant in the grand scheme of things. But, he told her that now, and though it didn’t lift the heavy guilt or ease her mind, she took it into consideration so that hopefully, sometime soon, she would be confident enough to realize she wasn’t just some charity case related to Rudy Pankow.

— 𝐛𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

[writingonjorvik]

Hey, so I just wanted to put out this post real quick as a kinda vent thing that’s been bugging me for a bit. It’s not like any one person in particular kinda thing, it’s just something I deal with a lot around the community because of how I work.

Can we not keep calling me shit like crazy or insane about how quickly I work?

Like don’t get me wrong, I get it. When I bust out 15k projects in a week or two, having that kind of motivation can be frustrating to see and I get people wishing they have that since getting the motivation to work on creative projects is hard. But like. My work pace is borderline manic episodes. I don’t want to say that it is manic episodes because I don’t want to diagnoses that, but like when I’m doing projects at speeds like that it’s because I literally cannot sleep unless I wear myself out completely working in a day or I will stay up all night thinking about what I need to get done the next day. This post is actually one of those kinds of things as I woke myself up at like 3 am and couldn’t get back to sleep until 7 ish just repeating how I was going to write this.

And like, I’ve lost friends and mutuals over this, people thinking that my 0 or 900 personalities are performative, that I’m willfully being abrasive or forgetful when I’m really so hyperfocused into projects that I cannot process anything outside of working on those projects. I hate being called a liar. It’s like a end a relationship thing depending on the severity of the thing because I cannot process lies, telling them myself or people telling them to me. And so it hurts even more when those people call me liars about something I’ve only started coming to terms with. And then to have mutuals turn around and say things like “Oh, you work so fast, you’re crazy. I wish I had that” is just. A lot and it’s frustrating considering that I’m over here living through the absolute hellscape that is dealing with this kind of non-stop cycle into deep and crippling depression of not being able to motivate myself to do anything when I hit that 0 again and having no win scenario where I don’t also feel insane, which is in no way healthy. 

I know I should talk to someone about this, but you know. United States healthcare is a joke. Covid is a nightmare. I haven’t been able to work since March after just recovering from being suicidal and jobless not three months before restrictions hit, so the antidepressants are just gonna have to do for now and this vent on my blog.

So, that’s what this is. Just, if you can, at least when talking to me, take that language out of the conversation because it’s been really hurtful to my health. Working on JD/JC and ROJ have been really amazing projects because I get way more benchmark check-ins on taking breaks and taking care of myself and the support is just. Amazing. Although, with JC getting so big, I’ve honestly debated taking a step back from it because a lot of people seemed to assume I was expecting the deck to blow up like it did and are mad I didn’t plan better and I was just spending that summer hyperfixating on getting the guidebook done and watching all of the amazing artists and just. I don’t want to ruin that project for me because people assume I’m a liar or performative or that I’m not sympathetic to people who can’t go at the speeds I do. I’m just asking for the inverse in return because I can’t sit still once I’m in my 900 mode and that can be just as exhausting as not having any energy.

[heathersgameoftag]

anyway here’s a preview lmao. i don’t have this one planned out and idk if i will continue with it but. it’s been in my head for too long i had to write it.

Veronica was completely numb.

Because life prepares you for many things, but becoming complicit in somebody’s murder is not on that list. Usually when life hits you hard, you go through the motions of grief or anger or depression or perhaps all three. It’s always messy and difficult, but at least you feel something. Right now, she had no idea how to interpret the events of this morning, had no idea how she was supposed to feel, had no idea what she was feeling. How was someone supposed to feel in a situation like this? Guilty, perhaps? That was an obvious one. Maybe that’s how she would have felt if her brain knew how to process… everything.

Not only was she complacent in both a murder and a murder cover-up, the murder victim in question was her best friend and worst enemy, whom she was supposed to hate with every fibre of her being, but all of it was now gone. She felt nothing. She was numb. She hated it, because even though she had no good role models to look up to in a situation like this, she would have thought the moral thing to do was to be unable to stop sobbing over the death of your close friend who threatened to destroy you the previous night. Oh, dear, sweet, terrible, evil Heather Chandler, how we will miss you so.

Should she be calling her evil at a time like this? Her corpse was probably still lying on her bedroom floor right now, there to be found by her family when they returned from their trip to grandma’s. Oh, that was a horrific thought that made her stomach churn. Good, she was finally feeling something, and it was nausea. Then again, that could easily be caused by the alcohol she drank last night, and the thought of her worst enemy’s lifeless body was just enough to make the bile in her stomach rise more than it should.

She managed to keep it down the rest of the walk home - she’d told JD she would be fine walking back to her house by herself, because as smitten as she was with him right now, she wanted to at least act like she was going through the first stage of grief and shut herself inside for a bit. She made it to her door, at last, and cradled her stomach as she unlocked and locked it again after stepping inside the house. She ran upstairs and darted into the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet for some time before vomit finally crawled up her throat. It was nothing but liquid - she’d chugged a shit ton of JD’s tap water and eaten absolutely nothing since 10pm last night, so that made a lot of sense. It was disgusting how it stuck to her tongue after the worst got out, but staring at the vomit floating in the toilet water was a lot better than the blue liquid that had dripped down Heather’s chin.

“Veronica, honey, are you alright in there?” A knock on the door that she’d actually forgotten to lock.

“Yeah. Fine. Hungover.” Not entirely a lie. “Don’t worry, mom, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

I killed someone. “I’m good.”

“Drink plenty of water, okay? And breakfast will help, if you haven’t had anything yet.”

Food was the last thing Veronica wanted right now. “No thanks.”

“I can make you a hangover cure?” her mother joked. Veronica just froze, unsure what to reply with. Did she know? How did she know? Were she and JD seen leaving Heather’s house?

“I’ll take that as a no,” her mother eventually said. “Just get plenty of rest - your father and I will try and make as little noise as possible.”

“Thanks.” She wanted to slap herself for being so paranoid, but hey, maybe paranoia was common with people who just committed a murder. “I think I will sleep for a bit.”

“Just call if you need anything.”

A time machine. She shakily lifted herself back onto her feet, flushed the toilet and brushed her teeth lazily. The mint flavour was a relief, she’ll admit that, drinking and vomiting and fucking all in one night will murder your breath.

Kind of like how she murdered Heather.

Spitting her toothpaste into the sink and washing it down with more water, she trudged to her room and blocked all sources of light. Curtains were drawn, lights were all off and door was closed, all that was left to do was to strip her clothes off, throw an oversized t-shirt on and curl up in her bed, ready to sleep soundly to the thought of Heather gagging and choking and taking her last dying breath, all because she picked up the wrong fucking mug.

It was a mistake. We all make mistakes, she told herself, closing her heavy lids.

And my mistake was murdering Heather Chandler.

[deathbled]

jonathan “jd” danes info drop.

tw: suicide, abuse, murder.

born in the marriage of famed singer bethany danes (née: richards) and producer anthony danes jonathan was raised with his mother trying to overcompensate for his fathers negligence and, at times where he was home longer than a few days, downright abuse. it eventually came to a point where jonathan became apathetic to everything around him, taking things however they came without fighting back. he’d stopped crying since he was barely six years old; his father had beaten the tears out of him because “you disgrace me with your tears”. his mother, taking as much time out of her busy schedule as she could came to grow more and more depressed with the state of their home life. an abusive husband and a son who was more dead than alive, mentally. it all came to a breaking point on her husbands (& jonathans) birthday when after her husband came home drunk and left the house soon after saying something about “having to drink their disappointing marriage out of his head”. when jonathan awoke later that night because of a bad dream and went to his parents room to ask his mother to sleep in there with her he found her hanging, a sight he’d relive many time in nightmares he’d never be able to fully leave behind. that night he swore to himself to become the polar opposite of his father.

the older he grew the more jd began hiding behind the mask of happiness and kindness, putting a smile on his face rather than the empty expression he used to have as a child. by the time he was ten his father had taken in the children of another star of his company that had “died” under tragic circumstances. he’d learn later from her children that his own father had driven her into suicide, that the entire company was torturous and cruel to everyone that worked for them. eventually all the hiding spaces and empty rooms in their mansion were shown to the siblings that had moved in with them in a “publicity stunt” as his father would later reveal. he’d grown so used to his fathers abuse that he began taking the brunt of his anger while advising his new-found “family” to hide. never in his life would he let them deal with what he’d dealt with in the past. bruised and beaten more and more every single day during his teenage years johnathan began to study hard, learnt as many things as he could to distract himself; even learnt his fathers work (without the callousness and corruption his father used on the job) and eventually began to find solace in his mothers old albums.

everything reached a boiling point on his seventeenth birthday, when his father confronted the younger sibling, sock, about a present they’d gotten johnathan. something he’d mentioned off-handedly wanting as a child. it had made jd happy, but his father called it disgraceful, and jd, fed up after years of taking things quietly, argued back. and his reflexes were fast; years of the same things happening had taught him to predict his father and before the first hit was thrown he’d already pummeled the man to the ground, beating as long as he could until there was no screaming anymore, no more fighting back. no more breathing. before he had any chance to react his new family, his siblings, got him out of the house, found a temporary place to stay with one of sunnies ( the eldest, socks older brother ) friends while jd figured things out. it was at that point that he’d return in the dead of the night to his fathers him to at least steal some valuables, plant evidence to frame one of his fathers equally shady associates and get away for real.

it was during his stay with sunnies friends that he got into music again, trying to create remixes or music inspired by his mothers music. a little while after everything settled down and he managed to get away with what he did he’d taken over his fathers company. strictly throwing out everyone who was essentially like his old man and completely turning the entire place around. eventually he’d stopped going by “jd” or even johnathan danes.  legally changing his name to “johnathan richards” he began using the artist name “stauber”. 

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #30: Ominous

A sharp and bitter autumn day, the kind that made you glad of the classroom's warmth.  Danielle Corbeau and Belle Resone walked down the street to the Okusanya house, with a bookbag floating behind Resone, trailing her like a patient pet.  Ayumi had stayed home today, ostensibly due to illness, but they both knew better. Ayumi couldn't get sick.  Most likely her father had kept her home to help him with something.

"He could have asked us," Danielle groused.  "I'd have been glad to stay home."

"So'd Ayumi.  And Dr. Okusanya's not our father, much as we might like."  Resone was uncharacteristically cheerful-- not that she was normally depressed; normally Resone was an emotional cipher, showing about as much emotion as your typical android.  Today she walked with a spring in her step and a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips, which for Resone was what skipping down the street singing would have been for anyone else.

"I wish," Danielle muttered.  "What are you so happy about?"

"Am I?" Resone frowned slightly. "I suppose so.  Look, Danielle."  She turned and gestured at the patiently floating bookbag.  "I can control it."

"Wow." Danielle was not impressed.  "You've been able to control the teek ever since I met you.  You just need to be in the right mood."

"No, I--" Resone stopped in some confusion.  "This is the first time, isn't it?"

"You don't remember?"

"Oh, right." She had lost the faint smile, though, her face reverting to its usual expressionlessness. The only way Danielle and Ayumi knew she wasn't an android was the few times the floodgates had opened, and Resone had gotten violently emotional. Andys did have emotions, but they didn’t have hormones, so that kind of behavior was not a thing they’d do. She never admitted to these episodes afterward, but they were enough to prove that she wasn't an andy.  That, and the fact that andys didn't have psi, according to Dr. Okusanya, and he was the world's top cyberneticist, so he'd know.

They turned a corner and passed a group of guys.  "Woo-oh!" Danielle turned her head to watch them as they passed, leering. "Check out the buns on the blond there!"

"Danielle, you're almost as obnoxious when you do that as the guys are when they do it."

"Come off it, Resone. Either I'm every bit as obnoxious or no one is.  Hidden sexism, you know. Oh, wow!"  Resone followed Danielle's gaze to a stunning redheaded girl.  "Excuse me."

"She's got a boyfriend," offered Resone as advice.  "And she doesn't like you."

"Who asked you?" Danielle slid into an alleyway and transformed, taking male form. Resone had seen this scene before-- she didn't need her precog to tell her how it would come out.  Daniel, now, would attempt to charm the girl, and either get into her pants or get hit.  Most likely get hit.  Resone had already divined the girl's opinion of Daniel.  She didn't need to watch.

//don't you?//

Resone lifted her head slightly.  Someone had spoken.

Who's there?

No answer.

Something was happening. Resone tried to analyze it, but it was no more yet than a prickling at the edge of consciousness.  She'd have to wait for it to come.  Perhaps it had something to do with Ayumi.  She continued on a path for the Okusanya house.

Once there, she paused at the threshold.  She's not here.

`Something was happening. An electric current in the air. Something she hadn't seen, yet. From somewhere inside, Resone felt the first faint uneasy stirrings of fear.  She liked things predictable.  If she saw it ahead of time, she could compensate.  Predictable and safe.  The other way was nightmare.

mommy please don't i'm sorry

No.  The fear went away, like that.  Like a circuit breaker in her mind, shutting off emotion.  She pushed open the door-- and turned, startled, as with a thud her bookbag fell to the porch.

Wasn't controlling.  I must be more careful.  Resone picked it up, brushed it off and went into the Okusanya house.

Dr. Seye Okusanya was working on something.  Resone waited patiently outside his door for ten minutes before realizing that he was far too distracted to notice her when her whole field projected a don't-notice-me aura.  "Excuse me.  Dr. Okusanya?"

He turned his head. "Ah, Resone.  Is Ayumi in detention again?"

"No..." Resone was esper.  More than simply meaning she had psi, it meant she had perceptions outside the sensory realms, and she integrated faster than most.  It occurred to her, now, that Dr. Okusanya had not kept Ayumi home. Therefore, something else had kept her from school.  Due to Ayumi's desire to be a Peacekeeper, that something was more than likely trouble.

"I think she's in danger," Resone said.  "She and Danielle both."

"What?" Dr. Okusanya turned all the way around.  "Why do you say that?"  He then remembered that "why" was a nonsensical question when dealing with Resone. "What sort of danger?"

"When did you last see Ayumi?"

"Why... last night. She said good night to me."

"She was abducted between here last night and the school this morning," Resone said. "Or perhaps enticed.  It's hard to say.  I left Danielle behind on the way here, but I shouldn't have.  I didn't sense the danger."

"What's the danger?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's have you do a psychometric location, see if you can find her.  And Danielle.  Does the danger know what the three of you are?  Is it targeting you three in particular, or is it going after the population in general?"

"I don't know." The fear was beginning to stir again.  That wasn't right.  Resone was never afraid, not of anything.  But then, she always knew how it would come out.

Ayumi's scarf, from her bedroom.  Ayumi loved that scarf, wore it whenever they were going on a job.  It had to be something with emotional resonances. Resone picked it up and wound it around her tiny hands, picturing Ayumi.

Ayumi Okusanya-- tall, with deep brown skin, the flawless body of an African goddess, Japanese features that might have been delicately beautiful if they weren't pulled into a scowl all the time, and frizzy pink hair.  Everything about her screamed "attitude."  Teachers hated her, and she returned the favor with interest-- unless they were that rare breed of teacher that could see through the tough-girl pose to the wounded child inside.  Ayumi was a full-body cyborg, made so at the age of 5 by an accident that had killed her mother, and now very little of her was still organic, as of course she'd had to transfer bodies every two or three years to accomodate her growth.  The body she wore now was a state-of-the-art android with an interface to her human brain and actual hormonal glands to enable a full range of emotional experience, since unlike an andy Ayumi had a brain that could interpret emotional inputs. It looked, felt, and smelled fully human, and had been designed by her father to Ayumi's own specifications.  

But it was the first body she'd had that couldn't be pegged as a cybe.  The first body she'd had, as a small child, had been crude and robotlike, matching the then-current android technology, and though each new body had been cutting edge, the edge hadn't reached humaniform until now.  

In fact it could be argued that Ayumi's pain at being a freak had been part of what had driven android bodies to improve so rapidly, as her father was the leader in the field and was probably so because he'd been personally driven to make his daughter the best bodies possible.  But having a fully humaniform body now didn't erase ten years of being a freak.  Ayumi couldn't quite believe that people were no longer laughing at her clumsy metal body, and it made her lash out.

At the same time, despite her reputation as a JD, Ayumi was truly committed to helping people.  She wasn't a school nark or a monitor, because she couldn't handle toadying to the Establishment.  But she had, for the past schoolyear and change, used her rep to get the lowdown on the gangs and the deals, and reported to her father, who reported to the police.  Tifaret High was a lot cleaner now than it'd been this time last year.  Ayumi wanted to be a Peacekeeper, and she didn't want to wait the three years until she'd be 18 and it'd be legal, she wanted it now.  She wanted to prove that teens could be effective Peacekeepers too.

When Resone had first detected the dimension warp and recruited Ayumi and Danielle against it, it had been Ayumi who gave the group its strength.  Resone was the brains and Danielle was the guile, but Ayumi was the heart of the three, her passion driving the other two.  Since that time, the three had actually become best friends, despite their differences.  It would hurt, if Ayumi was suffering.  It would hurt, and Resone pulled back, not wanting to see what she would see.

But of course, she saw it. The ice came down, freezing her in perfect control, blocking away the pain, as she saw Ayumi trapped in a genie bottle, shouting curses.  Resone couldn't see Ayumi's body, but could tell where it was likely to be-- hooked into a virtual reality simulator.  Ayumi was inside a computer, and didn't know it.  She was no linerider like Danielle-- she would be totally unable to alter her surroundings, even if she knew it wasn't real.

Resone couldn't see Danielle, even when she held Danielle's mojo stone, but that wasn't surprising. Danielle was quicksilver, a water elemental, flowing and changing shape, with little constant enough to make a firm psychometric imprint.  She did, however, get a very distinct impression from touching the stone. Words, symbols, resolving into a phrase.

OUR LADY OF MERCY HOSPITAL.

"The hospital," Resone said.  "Mercy Hospital.  A virtual reality, and a hospital..."

"What's happened to them?" Dr. Okusanya asked.

"They were lured. Tricked into going to the hospital, separated from the rest of us.  Each of us, one by one.  Dani, they used sex, of course.  Ayumi, they presented with one in need of rescue."

"And you?  How will they go after you?"

"Oh, they already have. Obligation and loyalty.  I'm going in after them."

Dr. Okusanya considered. "They'll be prepared for you, if they're luring you.  I think you need some kind of equalizer."

Resone stood behind ice, insulated, and watched herself say, "Don't worry, Dr. Okusanya.  They don't know me well enough to prepare for me."

***

Resone was a tiny, albino female of fifteen, still not quite 5 feet tall, with a mane of fluffy white hair, watery blue eyes she generally concealed behind extremely dark prescription sunglasses, and a girlish, undeveloped body.  One would think she would be very difficult to disguise.

One would think.

With hair braided and hidden under a short, dark blonde wig in a boy's cut, with dark contacts replacing dark glasses and makeup to make eyelashes and eyebrows look brownish-blond and not white, with tape wrapped around her tiny breasts and a boy's school uniform on, she felt very masculine in a boyish way.  Not Resone anymore.  This was Jason.  Jason turned this way and that, surveying his appearance in the mirror.  He wasn't very objective, of course-- he always saw himself as male, since that was what he was-- but Resone could be objective, and objectively she looked like Jason.  So let it be.  She let herself be Jason, and strode off purposefully, heading for the hospital.

//Something's happening, and you don't know what it is, do you, Belle Resone?//

Nobody here by that name. Sorry.

He walked to the hospital, sensing dimly a gathering storm.  The warp was active.  This was another stage of the strange war the intruders waged.  The hospital was not the hospital.  The street was not the street.  Like traveling between air and water, he stepped onto the street and everything was different.  Yet he couldn't tell exactly how it had changed.  Everything looked the same.  Change of refractory index-- inside, it was the same. It was the outside that was different.

Jason was afraid.

He wanted to be Resone again.  Resone was sheltered under ice, cold and insulated from fear.  But Resone couldn't do this.  They were looking for Resone, so she could never walk in directly under the eyes of the receptionist.

"Young man, where are you going?"

The receptionist was a pinched and dusty old lady with piercing glasses and the smell of moldy fish, not quite drowned by antiseptic chemicals.  "I'm visiting someone," he said.

"It's not visiting hours," the turtle-mouth snapped.

A stained clockface on the wall read a dreary four o'clock.  "When are visiting hours?"

"Not until five."

Hands of the clock spun, aged and rusty things responding to Jason's will.  He was dominating, not like passive Resone.  He was free to act, to control.  "But it is five," he said.

"It's only--" The receptionist glanced up.  Jason worked the same alchemy on her watch as she looked away, so it confirmed the lie. "That's strange.  Where does the time go?"

"The time eaters get it," a tall black man said, and laughed at his own joke.

"Who are you here to see?" the receptionist asked.

The lobby was filled with people, loud and chaotic.  Old smelly women with bulging black handbags as weapons against the world.  Young women in loose t-shirts with huge breasts and screaming dirty children clinging to them.  Snot-nosed brats of 11 or so flinging slingshot spitballs at each other. Dirty unshaven men in undershirts with beer bellies.  And the black man with the spiked dreadlocks, the mishmash mismatched clothing that covered plaid, solids, spots, in bright and loud colors, a ridiculous leisure suit and a ridiculous bowtie, askew, over a Day-Glo yellow shirt.  The man with the piercing grin.

//Something is happening, but you don't know what it is-- do you, Belle Resone?//

Jason pulled a name and a number out of the air.  "Room 23B," he said.  "Rachel Buscaglia.  I'm her brother."

"You have to be over 14."

"I'm 15.  I'm short."

//You're also a girl, girl-child.//

Shut up.  I'm a boy.  "Can I see her?"

Unable to find another reason to prevent him, the receptionist muttered, "I suppose so. Elevators are back that way."  She gestured vaguely.

Jason lost it as he left the waiting room.  The man in the mismatched clothes was following him, and a surge of fear swamped him. Be Resone, cold, controlled. Resone turned to face the man, safe behind a thin but strong layer of ice.  "Excuse me, why are you following me?"

"We're going to the same place," the man said cheerily.  "I'm Rachel's brother, too."

Resone frowned. "Rachel who?"

"Rachel Buscaglia. You remember, girl-- or maybe you don't, oh well.  But we're going to the same place.  You're gonna need help."

"I don't need help. I don't know you."

"I'm the March Hare."  He grinned broadly.  "Also known as the Cat Who Walks Through Walls.  That was a book by Heinlein, long time ago.  Good book."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Resone.  I'm Resone."

"I like your first name better."

"What?"

"Belle. Bella.  Beautiful.  Vous erez La Belle Dame Sans Merci, n'est-ce pas?  The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy.  Ah, Bella."

Resone stiffened. "Don't call me Belle.  I don't go by it."

"Somebody does."

"What?"

"For someone who's supposed to be such a hot esper and have so much on the ball, you can be dense, chère Belle."

"Don't call me that! I'm Resone!"

A white heat threatening to crack the ice.

my belle my beautiful belle come to daddy belle

The ice engulfed.  The anger drained out into the encroaching dark. Why should I care what he calls me?  "I have things to do."

"So do I.  By some strange trick of fate, many of them are the exact same thing as yours.  How's that for coincidence?"

"Hmm.  You're an esper, I take it."

"You know all about me, Bella.  All you have to do is think."

"Perhaps I don't care to."

She headed for the staircase.  Danielle should be found first, because she could hook into the line and find Ayumi. Resone might be esper, but she wasn't a linerider.

"Perhaps not. Where to?"

"Find Danielle."

"Could be rough. I think our friends are about to find you."

"Really." Resone didn't sense any danger-- but then, her senses seemed to be somewhat dulled here. “What am I expected to do about that?”

“Well. You in the mood for a fight, or you wanna hide and keep your powder dry?”

“I think I should hide,” Resone said, looking around. The elevators were coming. 6, 5, 4, on one elevator. 5, 4, 3 on the other. Her eyes fell on a set of double doors that she wasn’t supposed to go through. There.

The March Hare, or the Cat Who Walks Through Walls, or whatever his name was, followed her. “Interesting choice.”

As soon as she was through the doors, she whispered to him. “You are too distinctive. There’s no way I can not be here with you beside me. Go away.”

“Mm, no.” The Hare opened the nearest door. It was an empty examination room, darkened. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t join forces. Hide in here.”

Resone raised an eyebrow. “A fifteen year old girl hides in an empty hospital room with a grown adult, probably in his forties at least, that she doesn’t know. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He sighed explosively. “Bella. Such a correct and careful girl you are. Do it or don’t, but I can’t help you if I can’t talk to you, and we can hardly talk while you’re not here.”

“I think you can talk to me when I’m not here,” Resone said. “I think you’ve done that a few times today.”

A broad grin split his face. “Guilty as charged, but there’s can do the thing, and then there’s can do the thing and still have the juice left to run a mile or jump a fence. C’mon, Belle, I gotta save it for the parkour.”

Resone was used to knowing everything she needed to know. Remain passive, remain quiet, but look at everything. She was legally blind, and her mother couldn’t afford to get her cybeyes – Dr. Okusanya had offered, but for some strange reason her mother hadn’t been willing to entrust the father of a random school friend of Resone’s with doing surgery on her child, even if he was well regarded in a field she knew absolutely nothing about. Imagine that. But she watched everything, and she listened to everything, and if she held still, knowledge just came to her.

This man was an incomprehensible black hole. He was a singularity where knowledge went to die. Resone wouldn’t tolerate that.

With the faintest sag of her shoulders that on anyone else would be an explosive sigh, perhaps with eye roll, Resone went into the hospital room and let the March Hare shut the door.

“I’m going to begin by saying you’re an asshole,” Resone said. “And extremely creepy.”

“Oh, now ‘asshole’ I’ll own to, but when you say ‘creepy’ it sounds less eldritch horror and more Uncle Grabbyhands. If that’s what you’re picturing there then you got it all wrong.”

“You keep calling me by a name that’s not mine. You’ve referred to me as ‘beautiful’ and ‘the beautiful lady without mercy.’”

“A man can’t make a play on words about your name? I was joking, child. Have I touched you? Looked at you anyplace below the chin? But I’ll admit, I’m not used to dealing with kids, and I’ve been around a long time. Was a time they’d have strung me up for talking to you, white girl… if they could catch me. I’m gonna talk the way I know how, but I don’t mean nothing creepy about it. Unless you mean creepy like Slenderman or the man hook door hand story. In which case I absolutely mean it.” He grinned.

“Are you going to call me by my name?”

He sighed. “I suppose. You know, a fellow has as many names as I do, he doesn’t get so hung up on them. And you’ve got a lot of names, too, but then again… I’m guessing you don’t. Can’t read you as well as I’d like, to tell the truth.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Indefinable pressure. Time, pushing at her, and a sense that space was congealing around her. If she didn’t move soon she never would. “Who are the enemy?”

“Well, chère, thereby hangs a tale.”

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

This is all I have on a story called “Welcome to the House of Fun”. It’s quite old; I had to revise a good bit, mostly for cultural reasons (Ayumi’s dad, for instance, originally had a name that was African, but it was an African woman’s first name and the last name is a word but not a name, mostly because in the 90′s and early 00′s we did not have the resources for research that we do now.)

The time stamp on the file before I started working on it claimed I started this in 2001. I’m pretty sure it’s older. Ayumi, Danielle and Resone are a trio of teenage heroes (do not call them magical girls) who are essentially a mishmosh of elements from other stories. In Ayumi I’m counting Asamiya Saki from Sukeban Deka, Cyborg from Teen Titans and The Major from Ghost in the Shell, at least.

There is some stuff in here that is very, very 90′s, DC Vertigo-inspired, that I am likely to pull back on. I may rethink what’s going on with Resone, or maybe not. 

[david-deactivated69420]

raiting every tmg song bc i’m depressed and don’t have anything else going for me atm 1- Jeff Davis Country Blues

i was originally going to put the title of the song in all caps bc i’m like that but honestly i’m listing to the track rn and i really feel like that kind of aggression does a disservice to the piece. i don’t really feel like i can use any caps at all. it’s a quiet song. jdcb is one of the few ahwt songs that doesn’t immediately shoot me through, but it still hits me pretty hard. i really like the obvious themes of being lost and shit. +7 for good themes +1 for limiting my use of caps -1 for my own personal lack of attachment to this track because this list is biased and very much about me

"It's a song you may find yourself singing if all hope is gone. And you're like, 'Oh, man, this sucks that all hope is gone. I liked it better when there was hope. Guess it's too late to really be worrying about that now, though, and that's what the whole meaning of the word gone is, isn't it.' And maybe you look it up in a dictionary, but there's just a picture of your motel under that. And you think, 'That's really fucked up.' It's like a movie, and you start looking around for cameras — there's no cameras." here’s a jd quote about it that i really like. idk. there is something nice about taking comfort in being lost. i think when i get my drivers license i’m gonna drive the route he sings about. idk if it’ll mean anything to me or if it’ll be a worthwhile use of my time. i don’t know much about driving in texas. i don’t know who jeff davis is. i don’t know a whole lot of things i guess. +1 for good jd quote -2 for how i sorta feel like i’m always drowning in things i don’t know

i like how you can hear the in and out wayne of the boom box the album was made on. +2

8/10

[brn1029]

Get those tin foil hats ready to go!

The 10 greatest conspiracy theories in rock

By Emma Johnston

In a world where fake news runs rampant, rock'n'roll is not immune to the lure of the conspiracy theory. These are 10 of the most ludicrous

Conspiracy theories, myths and legends have existed in rock’n’roll for as long as the music has existed, stretching all the way back to bluesman Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil at the crossroads in exchange for superhuman guitar skills, fame and fortune.

There are those who believe Elvis Presley and Jim Morrison live on, others who think the Illuminati control the world through symbolism in popular culture, and plenty of evangelical types with their own agendas trawling rock and metal songs for secret messages luring the innocent to the dark side.

Let us take a look, then, at rock’n’roll conspiracy theories ranging from the intriguing to the ludicrous, as we try to separate the truth from the codswallop.

Lemmy was in league with the Illuminati

Few men have ever been earthier than Lemmy, but one conspiracy theorist claims that the Motorhead legend didn’t really die in December 2015, instead “ascending into the heavenly realm” after making a “blood sacrifice pact” with the Illuminati.

A “watcher” of the mythical secret society some believe are running the world – despite evidence that is at best flimsy, at worst straight from The Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown’s discarded notebooks – told the Daily Star: “Lemmy signed up for the ultimate pact – he signed his soul to the devil in order to achieve fame and fortune.”

While we can only imagine what the great man would have to say on the matter, there’s one word, in husky, JD-soaked tones, that we can just about make out coming across from the other side: “Bollocks.”

Paul McCartney died in 1966

As you might expect from the most famous band that has ever existed, there are enough crackpot theories about The Beatles to fill the Albert Hall. From John Lennon’s murder being ordered by the US government, who, led by Richard Nixon, suspected him of communism (the FBI actually did have a file on Lennon, but the story is spiced up by the man behind murderlennontruth.com, who apparently believes author Steven King was involved due to, uh, looking a bit like Mark Chapman) to Canadian prog outfit Klaatu being the Fab Four in disguise, there are plenty of tall tales more colourful than a Ringo B-side.

The most enduring, though, is the notion dreamt up by some US radio DJs that Paul McCartney died in a car crash in 1966 and was replaced by a lookalike. They came to this conclusion having studied the cover of Abbey Road – McCartney’s bare feet on the zebra crossing apparently symbolising death, while others found “evidence” in the album’s opaque lyrics. There were a lot of drugs in the 60s.

Gene Simmons has a cow’s tongue

It’s easy to see why all kinds of far-fetched stories sprung up when Kiss first took off in the 1970s. The fake-blood-spitting, the fire, the demon-superhero personas – middle America clutched its pearls and word spread that these otherworldly weirdos’ moniker stood for Knights In Satan’s Service. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

It was Gene Simmons’ preposterous mouth that got the nation’s less voluminous tongues wagging though. So long and pointy is his appendage, and so often waggled at his audiences (whether they asked for it or not), that eventually the rumour spread around the world’s playgrounds was that he’d had a cow’s tongue grafted onto his own. The bovine baloney is, of course, bullshit, but Simmons has admitted it's one of his favourite Kiss urban myths.

Supertramp predicted 9/11

The Logical Song may be Supertramp’s calling card, but one man in the US stretches common sense to the limit having come to the conclusion that the artwork for their 1979 album Breakfast In America gave prior warning of the terrorist attacks on New York on September 11, 2001.

Look at the album cover – painted from the perspective of a window on a flight into the city – in a mirror, and the ‘u’ and ‘p’ band’s name appears to become a 911 floating above the twin towers, while a logo on the back features a plane flying towards the World Trade Center.

So far, so coincidental, but when our intrepid investigator falls down a rabbit hole of Masonic interference, strained Old Testament connections (“The Great Whore of Babylon – Super Tramp”), and the title Breakfast In America reflecting the fact that the planes crashed early in the morning, things get really tenuous.

It’s fair to say it’s unlikely a British prog-pop band had prior knowledge of the terrorist attacks 22 years before they happened. But maybe Al Qaida were really big fans.

Stevie Wonder can see

Stevie Wonder is a genius. That fact is not up for dispute. The soul/jazz/funk/rock/pop legend was born six weeks prematurely in 1950, and the oxygen used in the hospital incubator to stabilise him caused him to go blind shortly afterwards. But his love of front-row seats at basketball games, the evocative imagery in his songs, and the fact that he once effortlessly caught a falling mic stand knocked over by Paul McCartney (who, let us reiterate, did not die in 1966) has caused basement Jessica Fletchers to muse that he’s faking his blindness as part of the act.

Wonder himself, a known prankster, has great fun with his status as one of the world’s most famous vision-impaired musicians. In 1973, he told Rolling Stone: “I’ve flown a plane before. A Cessna or something, from Chicago to New York. Scared the hell out of everybody.”

Dave Grohl invented Andrew W.K.

When Andrew W.K. first broke through in the early 2000s, dressed in white and covered in blood, his mission was serious in its simplicity: the party is everything. He took his message of having a good time, all the time, to levels of political fervour. But rumours of his authenticity have been doing the rounds from the start.

Reviewing WK’s first UK show at The Garage in London, The Guardian’s Alexis Petridis wrote: “One music-biz conspiracy theory currently circulating suggests that Andrew W.K. is an elaborate hoax devised by former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl.”

As time went on, the theory gained traction – Grohl was believed to be the mysterious Steev Mike credited on the debut album I Get Wet. And as W.K.’s style changed over subsequent records, and his own admission that there were legal arguments over who owns his name, whispers began that he wasn’t even a real person – he was a character, played by several different actors, an attempt to create the ultimate Frankenstein’s frontman.

"I'm not the same guy that you may have seen from the I Get Wet album," W.K. said in 2008. “I don't just mean that in a philosophical or conceptual way, it's not the same person at all. Do I look the same as that person?" The jury is out, but if this is a great white elephant concocted just for the sheer hell of it, we kind of want this one to be true.

Jimi Hendrix was murdered by his manager

An early victim of the 27 club, the death of Jimi Hendrix was depressingly cliched for a man so wildly creative: a bellyful of barbiturates led to him asphyxiating on his own vomit, according to the post-mortem. But in the years following the grim discovery at the Samarkand Hotel in London on 19 September 1970, a different theory was offered by the guitarist’s former roadie, James “Tappy” Wright.

In his book Rock Roadie, Wright claims Hendrix was murdered by his manager, Michael Jeffery, who he says force-fed his charge red wine and pills. The motive? He feared he was about to be fired and was keen to cash in on the star’s life insurance. One thing we do know for certain is Jeffery won’t be able to give his version of events, as he was killed in a plane crash over France in 1973.

The 50th anniversary of Hendrix's tragic passing was "celebrated" with the release of Hendrix and the Spook, a documentary that "explored" his death further and was described by The Guardian as "a cheaply made mix of interviews and dumbshow dramatic recreations by actors scuttling about flimsy sets in gloomy lighting." Sounds good.

Courtney killed Kurt

Courtney Love is no stranger to demonisation from Nirvana fans. When Hole’s second album, the searing, catchy, feminist, witty, aggressive, vulnerable and unflinchingly honest Live Through This was released, days after Kurt Cobain’s death, rumours almost immediately started up that Love’s late husband wrote the songs. That was insulting and sexist enough, but nowhere near as damaging as the conspiracy theory that Love hired a hitman to kill Cobain amid rumours they were about to divorce.

After Cobain’s first attempt to take his own life in Rome, the Nirvana frontman was eventually convinced to go to rehab following an intervention by his wife and friends. He ran away from the facility, and the private investigator hired by Love to find him, Tom Grant, eventually became the source of the idea that Love and the couple’s live-in nanny Michael Dewitt were responsible for Cobain’s death shortly afterwards.

His claims, made in the Soaked In Bleach documentary, include the notion that Cobain had too much heroin in his system to pull the trigger of the shotgun, and that he believed the suicide note was forged.

People close to Cobain (and the Seattle Police Department) have refuted the theory, including Nirvana manager Danny Goldberg: “It’s ridiculous. He killed himself. I saw him the week beforehand, he was depressed. He tried to kill himself six weeks earlier, he’d talked and written about suicide a lot, he was on drugs, he got a gun. Why do people speculate about it? The tragedy of the loss is so great people look for other explanations. I don’t think there’s any truth at all to it."

The CIA wrote The Scorpions’ biggest hit

Previously synonymous with leather, hard rock anthems and some very questionable album artwork, West Germany’s Scorpions scored big with Wind Of Change, a power ballad heralding the oncoming fall of the USSR, the end of the Cold War, and a new sense of hope in the Eastern Bloc.

In a podcast named after the 1990 song, though, Orwell Prize-winning US journalist Patrick Radden Keefe follows rumours from within the intelligence community that the song was actually written by the CIA, as propaganda to hasten the fall of the ailing Soviet Union via popular culture.

“Soviet officials had long been nervous over the free expression that rock stood for, and how it might affect the Soviet youth,” Keefe is quoted as saying. “The CIA saw rock music as a cultural weapon in the cold war. Wind of Change was released a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and became this anthem for the end of communism and reunification of Germany. It had this soft-power message that the intelligence service wanted to promote.”

It's a convincing theory, but one that is disputed by Scorpions frontman Klaus Meine: “I thought it was very amusing and I just cracked up laughing. It’s a very entertaining and really crazy story but like I said, it’s not true at all. Like you American guys would say, it’s fake news."

There are satanic messages in Stairway To Heaven

The great comedian Bill Hicks had something to say about people searching for evidence of devilry in rock’n’roll: “Remember this shit, if you play certain rock albums backwards there'd be satanic messages? Let me tell you something, if you're sitting round your house playing your albums backwards, you are Satan. You needn't look any further. And don't go ruining my stereo to prove a point either.”

The memo didn’t get through to televangelist and stylus ruiner Paul Crouch, who in 1982 attempted to scare the Christian right into believing Led Zeppelin’s Stairway To Heaven was stuffed with demonic meaning, and that played backwards it revealed the following message: “Here’s to my sweet Satan/The one whose little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan/He will give those with him 666/There was a little toolshed where he made us suffer, sad Satan.”

Guitarist Jimmy Page, of course, is no stranger to the esoteric, making no secret of his interest in occultist Aleister Crowley and the attendant magick, and there were even rumours the band made a Faustian pact to achieve fame and fortune. But hiding messa

[pebble-of-gold]

TW: DEPRESSION, SUICIDE

I was having a bit of a cry and rant on the phone to my friend saying how sven though I dont want to kill myself I know if I didn't wake up one day I would be okay with that.

We talked a while longer and then hung up.

Then we text for a bit and I said I was going to bed and that I'd remember his stickers and he said "yeah, and please wake up"

And that hit me really hard because no ones ever had that reaction before and it shows how much he really cares. And i just started crying

So even though you don't have tumblr

Thank you JD.