#knowing more about pete wentz has never made me understand pete wentz more

[runthepockets]

Most of my experiences with emo subculture (as young kid in the late 2000s - now) was seeing a bunch of white people with admittedly cool hair and nice shoes who were sad about society and me as a black dude being like "hey, me too! Lets hang out!" and then immediately getting treated like scum of the Earth cus those little cocksuckers were not only just sad about not being able to be ignorant little kids with no responsibility forever rather than, like, being mad about poverty or world hunger or anything, but also because my presence as a black dude shook them from their lame delusions that they had it worse than anyone else in the room at any given time. Even the few black emo kids I knew (I was best friends with an emo black girl in middle school, we watched anime together and I read her chibi yaoi comics cus I like seeing black girls happy and successful even when I don't fully understand / relate) were always seen as lower on the caste, just completely expendable, cus they were easy and acceptable targets in a crew full of what was otherwise cookie cutter carbon copies of white fragility.

So yeah when I say I hate emo subculture it's not cus I'm a wet blanket who hates gender expression or vulnerability or whatever, I understand that that aspect was important and formative for a lot of people, I just know for a fact it's all encompassing of white American Protestant circlejerk that I'm always on the receiving end of it. And I single them out over most other white people because these environments foster this kind of attitude. It's a very insular, consumerist, cliquey subculture that prioritizes perpetual victimhood over self advocation, and white people eat that shit up. Emo subculture is, by nature, nothing but a huge circlejerk over who has it harder and then getting scared of outsiders on sight, cus, ykno, white people and perpetual victimhood.

Also, most of the music just plain fucking sucks. There are a couple of emo bands I cape for, but the genre as a whole is not good enough to be caping this hard for and probably never will be. I don't understand the hype, it's all fully grown men just complaining about their ex girlfriends, getting gassed up over their Metal and Hardcore and Punk counterparts via being less "barbaric" cus the former group is made up of suburban college kids who whine instead of being pissed off? They made Pete Wentz straight his fucking afro to be more accessible to white teenagers, dude. Like what the fuck. Is this classist, racist culture that's integral to these outfits only ok because the racism and bigotry is more "passive" than other music subcultures? Cus the people enforcing it went to college and have nice families in nice white picket fence neighborhoods? Cus that's whack as shit.

[notetoselfzine]

friendsorenemies.com

this is an essay i recently submitted on my masters degree, about the now defunct website; (bonus at the the bottom - the full text of the edit I added to wikipedia (after the bibliography))

Upon choosing this module, I had not made a single edit on Wikipedia, always finding the complete information I needed, and never being in a position where I knew more about something than the page did. That changed recently when I had discovered an early social media site on the Internet Archive and struggled incredibly to find any information about it, so I knew it had to be me who made this public knowledge.

My lack of edits stem from there not being many factors surrounding the early 2000’s alternative music scene that are up for debate. Music in the 2000’s was greatly documented, and with blogging platform websites such as LiveJournal, where fans could make communities, we can see events unfold in real time while looking at archived journals. Interestingly, this uncontroversial area of interest is mirrored greatly in my own editing experience.

I settled upon my edits to include information about blogging platform Friends or Enemies on Pete Wentz’s Wikipedia after stumbling upon the website while viewing archived band websites, all of whom were signed to Decaydance Records (Wentz’s Label). Following links to this website, I was amazed by the vastness of communication from musicians to fans, yet shocked I had never heard about it before, considering the Decaydance label is still active. I went through Wentz’s Wikipedia history and only found one mention of the site, in June 2008, which stated that Wentz posted on his official blog that he is expecting his first child. I remain unsure as to why such a notable occurrence has no digital footprint, or remnants of its heyday mentioned retrospectively in increasingly popular 2000s ‘emo’ nostalgia journalism pieces. 

Beginning in week one’s reading, the Rosenzweig article had an amazing quote which summed up my thoughts on how academics view Wikipedia, and ultimately set the tone for the rest of the reading. I was very open to understanding how and why people do not like Wikipedia, to hopefully be proved wrong, but I never happened upon a consensus that was positive from the academics we were reading. McHenry, an editor for the Encyclopaedia Britannica used a ‘public restroom’ analogy while speaking of the site, expressing whether it be dirty or clean, you do not know who was there before you. This is untrue, and I fear this quote shows McHenrys incompetence with understanding the website. The nature of the page has always allowed users to view previous versions, as Halstead states: a Wikipedia page is not fixed or permanent like a chapter of a book. In places, I could not help but feel a negative attitude from the authors, seemingly threatened by a free to use website that is practically as reliable as a book.

Coming from a Digital Humanities background, I felt like I had opposing views to the Historians in our class, I supposed we used the internet in very different ways. The archive blog I run solely uses the internet to find sources, the communities I am interested in did in some ways exist offline, but online was the hub where they met and posted content. I couldn’t help but feel like some of my peers, and the academics whom we were reading, were engaging in a Technological Determinism point of view when discussing Wikipedia. This school of thought believes that a digital product is made, and then as a society, we deal with the consequences. This notion lacks nuance, as it does not recognise the intention behind an idea. Perhaps a Social Determinism of Technology understanding is more precise when thinking about this website: the users of the internet in the web2.0 era wanted a quick and handy place to obtain factual information, so Wikipedia was created. Although it did take a while for Wikipedia to become the site as we know it, with it being one of the most visited websites from the early days of its articles being published, there was a clear need for a website like this, shown by its popularity alone.

I spent several hours locating sources for my edits, wherein all but two were links from archived websites via the Internet Archive. Searching on the current internet served little use as I could not find any information, except for their old social media accounts. Friends or Enemies officially went offline in 2013, which is a relatively short time ago, but in internet time, that is long enough for it to be completely forgotten and any traces of the page be washed away by new websites and new communities. I drafted and redrafted versions attempting to make my tone of writing emulate that of the article. I was genuinely concerned that my own personal tone coming through in my writing would be a good enough reason for a moderator to remove my edits. Admittedly, I wanted my edits to be accepted as I enjoy the thought of strangers finding out about this website, hopefully inspiring them to look at my sources and experience it firsthand. Remaining neutral was simple, what I was writing about is objective: a fan site, there was no way I could take a stance which would make my entry not follow the NPOV rule. One struggle was being able to concisely explain the inception to decline in as clear a way as possible, not to make points too convoluted by getting excited and including information that was not purely vital to the idea. 

I have previously mentioned the website’s popularity, which I believe in a way, is down to its NPOV, or Neutral Point of View, stance it takes on the information it displays. I had not heard of this rule until I began learning how to edit. A discussion in class was had about remaining neutral, and a point was made that remaining neutral is a viewpoint within itself. I found myself disagreeing: to remove personal politics and biases so an objective, impartial telling of events can happen, can allow people to decide for themselves which way they are going to understand the event. In week two we were asked to choose what we think is a good article, which showcases the Neutral Point of View. I chose the Stonewall Riots. The page details the night, the social climate in North America leading up to the riots, and the impact of them worldwide – at no point does the page insinuate the riots needed to happen, nor was it a good thing they happened. The unprejudiced account of events allows the reader to take from it what they want, again furthering my point about the website’s popularity, anybody holding any point of view can ingest the core information, and with the website being run by a charity, there are no political affiliations. 

Much of the reading had strong thoughts on the NPOV rule, suggesting that it goes against how historians are classically trained, to include primary sources and to create a point of view regarding an event. The most interesting consequence of the NPOV rule is the behind the scenes chaos it often causes. ‘Edit Wars’ I believe to be a commonly known term amongst internet users who are familiar with Wikipedia. Luckily Wikipedia has introduced a mechanism which now prevents this, known as the Three Revert Rule which stops people undoing a page more than three times in 24 hours. Nowadays, many of the NPOV wars take place on the Talk pages, often called the Discussion pages. In class I was excited to hear that two of my peers were engaging in strong discourses surrounding their edits, as it seems they had chosen controversial topics. Aforementioned, the page I chose to edit was that of Pete Wentz, bassist of American rock band Fall Out Boy, seemingly not as controversial as some pages chosen by my classmates. I posted on the talk page, made my edits, and that was the end of my experience. I had one apostrophe corrected, and a bot changed the formatting of one of my source links. After much contemplating why my edits were not picked apart, I realised that unlike history that was written in books and passed generation to generation, I could physically see the web page, the history I was talking about, I had solid dates and references. Nothing I posted could be up for debate, as it was genuinely factual with proof, unlike my contemporaries who were in passionate discussions about location and wording. My topic was incredibly interesting to me but did not unnerve the moderators of the page. Reflecting further on our class discussion, it seems my peers had a more ‘classic’ Wikipedia editing experience than myself, at least a version of events which seems to be mentioned in academic writing. Indeed it may be that there are larger amounts of small details to be concerned with on historical pages, yet I wish that I had encountered some issues as I would be intrigued to find out why my edits would not be approved by the wider community. 

Relating to regular editors, studies have shown the demographic is 90% male, and 75% of contributors have some kind of degree. Understandably, arguments have been made regarding that the 90% of male editors are those who uphold the Neutral Point of View, but how neutral can it be if it is coming from a middle-class, educated, white male perspective? To very much contradict myself from an earlier paragraph in this essay, I do stand by this argument that Wikipedia is dominated by the male higher education demographic, whilst still arguing that the NPOV is crucial. I believe a neutral point of view is slightly better than no neutrality whatsoever, unfortunately even if it is coming from a 90% male point of view. A great piece was written by University College London Royal History Society about the editors and amount of pages about women on Wikipedia – leading to conclusions of how the demographic of editors mirrors the gender formation of articles. The work being done by the Royal History Society is aiming to change this, and encourage more women editors to become regular contributors. In hindsight, after seeing how seriously some people take the gender divide of editors, I can not help but feel a twinge of guilt over not putting this information on Wikipedia earlier, almost like my own preconceptions of the website stopped me, notably my lack of digital skill and suspecting overprotective moderators who would shun a fledgeling editor.

A fascinating Digital Culture concept which can tie into the gender of editors is that of Cyberutopia. In the early days of the counterculture net in the 1990s where it was mostly text based browsing, users were unaware of other users’ race, gender, sexuality. This allowed users to flourish, and be their truest self online. Some users hiding behind obscure display names, and not revealing their true identity mimics this, allowing people to edit and be judged solely on their edits, not background or education. However, this also allows some users to engage in Identity Tourism, by hiding behind a display name, they could introduce themselves on a talk board as a female undergraduate student, but are actually a high-school educated male. Famously, Wikipedia hired notable user Essjay who claimed to be a doctorate of History, but turned out to not be as studious as he claimed and was ultimately pushed from his role at the company, in a very early instance of somebody being caught (academic) catfishing.

Allowing anybody to edit is one of the main criticisms of the page, by academics and sceptics alike. Despite having to provide sources, and pages being regulated by chosen moderators, people have a distaste for this mode of online publishing and collaboration work. As previously mentioned, academics struggle with Wikipedia as it goes against their training, but this free to use website that has versions in 329 languages drastically opens up information to be consumed by the masses. Unlike Academic Journals that are hidden behind paywalls, and unlike books that can quickly become out of date when a new discovery in the field happens, Wikipedia can be updated in seconds making it incredibly appealing as a website to check when searching for something online. On the contrary, in some ways that Wikipedia is inaccessible is through the language of the website, as much like the rest of the internet, English is the dominating language, or with the site being partially or entirely blocked in some countries due to distrust of the content on the website. While the site is often praised for its accessibility, it does seem to be that it is by western scholars, for whom the website was built with them in mind. 

One of my main takeaways from this five week module is my glowing optimism about the platform. I found it easy to edit once being taught how, and will absolutely be adding regular edits whenever I come across something noteworthy during my archive research. Through all the reading I have undertaken for this module, I have come to understand why academics are not too fond of the website, notably the NPOV blocking them from adding new narratives to the general consensus of knowledge. Yet Wikipedia truly imposes no threat to academics. Peer reviewed journals are still regarded highly and hidden behind paywalls, the average member of the public is not privy to groundbreaking research, but Wikipedia is the next best thing in the dissemination of knowledge. I sincerely hope the webpage has some longevity, as it truly does serve a great purpose in ordinary people’s lives. This module has helped me to demystify the logistics of the online encyclopaedia, and ultimately made me appreciate it even more than I originally did. 

Bibliography

Halstead, D G, ‘Accuracy and quality in historical representation: Wikipedia, textbooks and the Investiture Controversy’, Digital Medievalist 9 (2013). 

Harrison, S, ‘Why China Blocked Wikipedia in All Languages’, Slate (May 2019), https://slate.com/technology/2019/05/wikipedia-china-block-censorship-tiananmen-square.html [accessed 1 November 2022].

Jensen, R,  ‘Military History on the Electronic Frontier: Wikipedia Fights the War of 1812’, Journal of Military History, 76 (2012), pp. 1169 – 1177.

Leonard, V,  ‘How Can Historians Achieve Inclusivity In Digital Archives?’, Royal History Society, (December 2019), https://blog.royalhistsoc.org/2019/12/16/how-can-historians-achieve-inclusivity-in-digital-archives/, [accessed 31 October 2022].

‘Most Popular Websites in the World 1996/2021’, Statistics & Data 2021, https://statisticsanddata.org/data/most-popular-websites-in-the-world-1996-2021/ [accessed 1 November 2022].  

‘Pete Wentz – Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia’, The Internet Archive (June 2008), https://web.archive.org/web/20080624235142/https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pete_Wentz, [accessed 1 November 2022].

Phillips, M. G, ‘Wikipedia and History: a worthwhile partnership in the digital era?’, Rethinking History, 20.4 (2016), pp. 523 – 543. 

Reed, T V, ‘How Do We Make Sense of Digitizing Cultures? Some Ways of Thinking Through The Culture-Technology Matrix’, ‘Digitised Lives: Culture Power and Social Change in the Internet Era’, (Second Edition, New York, 2019) pp. 1 – 30, 32 – 34

Rosenzweig, R, ‘Can History Be Open Source? Wikipedia and the Future of the Past’, Journal of American History, 93.1 (2006), 117 – 146. 

Steggle, M,  ‘Prospero and Plagiarism: Early Modern Studies and the Rise of Wikipedia’, Digital Studies/le Champ Numerique 2.1 (2010).

‘Wikipedia:Edit warring: The three revert rule’, Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Edit_warring [accessed 1 November 2022].

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my wikipedia edits [sic] to include hyperlinks and references;

Friends or Enemies was a blogging platform created by Wentz to showcase "VIP" content of the bands signed to DCD2. The site first appeared online in the latter half of 2005 stating "coming this fall".[52] On January 16, 2006 the page published its first post, welcoming people to its BETA version; earlier that day Wentz appeared on MTV's TRL wearing a friendsorenemies.com branded t-shirt, to promote the website.[53] The platform allowed its users to customise their own page, comment and reply, and post entries on their profile. In support of Friends or Enemies, William Beckett of The Academy Is... posted on their website that it is "the hatester's MySpace",[54] and Cobra Starship shared a preview of their music video, Church of Hot Addiction on the website, a week before it was to be aired on MTV2.[55] By February 2007, Equalstudio, the designer and host of the website, stated there were over 100,000 members on Friends or Enemies.[56] The website became a hub for posting tour announcements and updates, and had increased its VIP journals to include bands that were not signed to DCD2, such as Armour For Sleep and Innerpartysystem[57][58]

In 2009, Twitter[59] and Facebook[60] accounts were created, which posted the same content as the website, that was still being regularly updated with blogs and competitions. Also in 2009, Friends or Enemies began posting on their YouTube channel which published skits, live performances and interviews.[61] Through 2011 and 2012, the social media pages began to post links to new music videos, while the website continued with blog updates from bands. Despite 2012 being the year for the website that had amassed the most blog posts, in January 2013, Wentz posted an edited photograph of Britney Spears with a shaved head, which served as his last post.[62] By May 2013, the homepage stated the "Network [is] offline"[63] and has remained down since.

[omegalomania]

deeply and forever obsessed and enamored with how fall out boy discuss fame and accessibility with so much hyper-awareness of what they are, what their status renders them in the eyes of the public. in the accessibility of the early days when pete would do livejournal blogs and q&as and on the very opening lines of cork tree the album that made them big like really big and how the desire to create intersects with the deeply potent anxiety centered around your self-worth as someone who lives with a mental illness and creates in spite of that (the immense psychological damage i endure when i think of the line I only keep myself this sick in the head 'cause I know how the words get you off because that is ioh’s thesis statement, because ioh is an album named after a van gogh quote be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. then life seems almost enchanted after all. and we hear that constant and deeply flawed rhetoric of if van gogh wasn’t so depressed we never would have gotten starry night, overlooking the point that van gogh was a creator not because of his neuroses but in spite of them. because that line that the album title comes from is a quote from a letter from van gogh to his brother, discussing how his improving mental health has had a deeply positive effect on his art.)

porcelain. my frankenstein. songs about hero worship and what it means to have an idol that doesnt live up to expectations. the agonizing pressure to always try and live up to that but being so afraid that you won’t. you don’t want to hurt people but it’s inevitable that you will. you will. alpha dog. the music or the misery. she’s my winona. the take over the break’s over. from now on we are enemies. the wrong side of paradise. the knowledge that on some level something of what you are will never be enough for people because you changed but did they even really like you anyway? or did they just like the things that afflicted you? citizens for our betterment. welcome to the new administration. we are a spectacle. we are to be witnessed and consumed and speculated upon. our personhood is secondary, is negligible.

and then sunshine riptide. sunshine riptide and more specifically, the way it combined with the mania experience. please don’t tap the glass. i read it in reverse. we’re the things on display. pete wentz in a glass cage, to be studied and watched. turning himself into a commodity. only. only he’s not that exactly, is he? he’s not just something to be observed because he isn’t acknowledging anyone else. he is aware of his status in the eyes of the public. he is aware like a razor’s edge what it means to be who he is - a mentally ill black man whose art is always under scrutiny, whose art is a culmination of all that he is, who must always be exceptional and beyond reproach if he is ever to achieve a positive comparison to his white peers, and the intersections of all that he is have always been present in his art and in his lyricism and in how he interprets things. please don’t tap the glass. he is what’s on display. he understands what it is to be commodified.

but he dis-acknowledges everything else around him, the people gathered nearby. he is coloring pictures. he is listening to music. he is comfortable in his own space in spite of the many strangers’ eyes on him. please don’t tap the glass. i can never explain what this does to me, this mental image of pete in a glass box. fundamentally absurd but also with this absolute knowledge of who and what he is in the public eye, and reclaiming that under his own power. he is a spectacle. he is an artist. but first he’s a person, isn’t he? he doesn’t exist for our consumption. he never has. but he continues to allow us these discrete windows into himself regardless, despite all this might invite. despite the speculation, the scrutiny, the infamy, the contempt, and everything that comes along with it.

please don’t tap the glass.

[earlgreytea68]

have you ever thought about twin skeletons as a peterick song? it fits so well

YES.

Okay, this *brutal, brutal* song.

Usually when you can discern Peterick in Pete's lyrics, it's soft and sweet and magical. Patrick is golden and sunshine and true blue.

But once upon a time these two absolutely self-destructed together, and this is the spin-out song, this is the song where it's disintegrating inside their hands. This is the song where Pete feels the inevitability of their collapse (this is "our fate"). He feels bad about the whole thing, like, how did they get here, let's take a moment to feel sorry for ourselves (it "deserves our pity"), but at the same time he wishes he could forget it, especially since he blames himself, all those promises he made if (Patrick) would just stay, he doesn't want to remember them now.

This song's first verse has the sexiest, lustiest lyrics and they just absolutely kill me, there is such depth of ardent longing in the lyrics, such willingness to put up with absolutely anything for a few more minutes with (him), just enough of (him) to dull the pain. You know how Pete says they communicate using cryptophasia? The term for a language created and understood by twins. That's he wants: to be twins again. Sure, it's about sex, but sex is never actually about sex in Pete's lyrics, Pete's lyrics are always yearning for more than sex. He wants comfort, he wants connection, he wants the end of the artifice, to be stripped bare and just *be.* The "saints just swimming in our sins" can be a pretty little sex allusion, or it could just be that he wants to be all of himself, both halves, and have that be okay, have the other person jump in and join him, no judgment.

But he can't get there. There's a jet black crow droning on and on and on and on and on and that verse ends with what reads as this hesitant, halting declaration of love: "Keep making trouble 'til you find what you love." And is there any more devastating line in all of Pete Wentz's lyrics of rejection than: "I need a new partner in crime, and you? You shrug." OH MY GOD THAT LINE. I will never, ever get over the absolute brutality of that line. "Keep making trouble 'til you find what you love," thinks Pete, and looks across this room in New York City at this person who can get him through the night, and he says carefully, "I need a new partner in crime," I need someone else to make trouble with, be that person with me, he reaches out--and THEY SHRUG OH MY GOD. Like that is so much worse than saying no. That utter and complete indifference to the level of emotion that these lyrics are drowning in, CONTINUING TO KILL ME.

The second verse reads to me like determination in the face of that rejection. "Oh, yeah? Well, fuck you. Every death is also a birth (and vice versa) and I've been to hell and back but this won't keep me down, and YOU, and your SPIRAL OF SHAME, LET ME DIE LAUGHING ON IT." Okay, maybe *that* is the only other line as devastating. I CAN JUST DIE LAUGHING ON YOUR SPIRAL OF SHAME. The knowing, sardonic disgust in that line, HONESTLY, THIS SONG, IT IS RELENTLESS. I don't think Pete is actually cruel enough to have mocked Patrick's ultimate spiral, but I do think Pete, when hurting, when faced with a shrug, is definitely capable of lashing out and being like, "NO TIME FOR YOU NOW, BUDDY." DEFINITELY. This is the Pete who insisted through most of the hiatus that he would never play for Fall Out Boy ever again.

And this is also the Pete who appears to have conveniently forgotten that he was ever that vicious, because for all of its anger and vitriol, this song isn't actually called Hotel in NYC. In the end, this song isn't *actually* about that. This song is called Twin Skeleton's. This song is named for the references of linked togetherness: of being stripped away to your essential self and having the only other person there who understands you. These are the twin skeletons on the cover of the Believers Never Die albums, the two curled together for eternity (who, incidentally, turned out to be two guys). But it's not just twin skeletons, it's possessive: Twin Skeleton's Hotel in NYC. The Twin Skeleton, a duo that is in fact a single entity, and *their* hotel in NYC. Where a lot of stuff went down but you know what? It was *theirs,* and you know how this song ends?

Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on...

I always think of this song in the same breath as "Hum Hallelujah," only because in my head they are both songs where every single line is a tour de force lyric that just bangs and bangs at you. But the way Patrick *snarls* these lyrics just sets it apart, and then the way he sets up those "hold on"s at the end, and carries all of us out with them, the way, in the repetition, it becomes not a lyric out of Pete but a promise out of Patrick. I cannot imagine what it was like when AB/AP dropped and the last song on the album was...that. Like...mic drop.

[dirty-urie]

Cheapen My Love

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

Wicked Era

Smut Oneshot

NC-17

5k words

Warnings: rpf, language, sex on camera, light dominance and submission, spanking, mentions of (mostly harmless) drugs, alcohol, mentions of threesomes and public sex

A/n: I wrote this with a really bad headache, so you have to like it :/ Also, take some time to admire the silly little mood board I made please. It took 10 whole minutes of my life and now my Google ads are going to be full of lingerie I can’t afford.

Thank you to this anon ask for the inspiration!

"I mean, I'd love to, damn I'd love to. Getting to look at you absolutely falling apart from my touch whenever I want? Hearing those sweet little noises you make when I push into that tight pussy? Heaven," he says, eyes going glassy and mouth hanging open a bit, just imagining what it would be like.

Sounds like heaven for you too. His perfect body, those deep groans he can't help but let out, even when he's trying to stay composed. "I'm sensing a 'but,'" you finally interrupt his fantasizing. He shifts his upper body weight away from you, popping his ass out towards you and grinning. You give it a little smack, and he resumes his previous position leaning against you while you talk on the couch. You don't realize that you were both inadvertently using hushed voices even though you're home alone until you let out a full-volume giggle. "Not that kind of butt, you fucking idiot. You're going to say, 'Y/N, I'd love to make a sex tape with you, but…'"

Brendon sighs, extracting himself from you, so he can better hold his ground. "But what if it gets out?" He finally supplies.

You're disappointed at his reluctance, but you refuse to take no for an answer so soon. "What if it gets out? There's hardly anywhere on your body that you haven't flashed onstage somehow, and your moans on Twitch may be jokes, but they sure sound the same as the real ones. Plus, you're a man; it's not like it would ruin your career! It gets out, so what? You get some extra press coverage, and a few million people have something to jerk off to, not the end of the world," You argue. You'd never make him do something he doesn't want to do, but he clearly wants this; he just has some reservations.

He makes a face that's not quite angry, more frustrated at your lack of understanding. "Babe, you aren't getting it. I'm a celebrity; I have no privacy. People know where I live, my dog's name, the exact date when I lost my fucking virginity, and I gladly accept that price to do what I love. But, I'd like to at least keep my wife and me in bed together out of the headlines. It's not about me or my body. It's not even really about your body. Sex with you is… more than just bodies on bodies; it's a language, a connection. I don't want to cheapen that by accidentally becoming some tween's porn," he rants, getting louder as he goes on. When he finishes, you can tell his cheeks are red, but you don't know if that's from embarrassment, passion, or both.

Your eyes are starting to water at his words, and Brendon dries the corners with the sleeve of his shirt. You sniffle and smile a little at how sappy and emotional you're being. "Sorry, sorry," you apologize, "I just love you so much. Love that you love me so much." You take his hand in both of yours, "If you really don't want to make a sex tape, I'll drop it right now. I won't ever bring it up again. But if you're only saying no because you're nervous about the off-chance that it'll leak, I refuse to accept that as an answer. This isn't Pete Wentz sending dick pics to an attention-hungry scene queen from his grandmother's bathroom on a Sidekick. We'll take the precautions; it won't ever go on a device that can connect to the internet if you don't want: right from the camera to a monitor for editing, to a flash drive that we'll keep in the safe. If we want to watch it, we'll hook it up to a TV or projector. Yes, there will still be a risk, but there's also a risk of someone filming us themselves and releasing it," you say, having thought this through thoroughly.

He's nodding along with you but still looks skeptical. "Who would edit it? Who would film it?" He asks.

"I don't want anyone else in the room when we do it, so I think we'll have the videographer set up a few cameras for different angles and just let them roll. As far as who the videographer and editor should be, either Sarah or Zack. They're both incredible visual artists, I trust them with my life and yours, and they've both seen us having sex already in one form or another." You've had Sarah join you a couple of times, and Zack is wholly desensitized to you hooking up right in front of him. Cars, dressing rooms, bathrooms, hotels, the bus. Honestly, when you think about it, it's ridiculous that Brendon's choosing now to be a prude.

Brendon thinks for a moment, "I'll reach out to both of them," he says and then catches the excited look on your face, "if I decide to do it."

You squeal and hug him, "Yes! Let's do it!"

Brendon laughs, "Yeah, I don't think that's what I said, but fine, yes, I'm tentatively giving in."

•••

You're sitting at the dining room table with a laptop and a notepad, trying to get all of the details and equipment arranged. Brendon's across from you, making all the necessary phone calls because he lost rock-paper scissors. He almost always picks scissors, so he can joke about scissoring you, and you almost always joke back with him about it, so he'll keep picking scissors, and you'll still have an advantage. It's a strategy in its own right.

"Hey, bro," Brendon says into the phone, and you know he must be talking to Zack because who else would he greet with 'hey, bro" while making arrangements for your sex tape? "So, as you probably know, because she's been complaining about it so incessantly," you shoot him a death glare even though you know he's not serious, "We leave for tour the day after Y/N's birthday. So as a birthday present, I've agreed to, um, makeasextape, and I was wondering if you would be down to help?"

He puts the phone on speaker so you can hear Zack's response. "Dude, I don't need to see that shit. I've been paid to look after you since you were a horny 19-year-old. I've seen enough of your dick to last a lifetime. Thought it would get better when you got married, but your wife is a whore too, and I'm only saying that because I know she's listening," Zack says.

"Hi, Zack!" You chirp.

He sighs, "Hi, Y/N."

"Zack, just help us with the cameras and stuff. I want Sarah to edit it all together anyway. I need a woman's touch on this video. You and Brendon will probably add dumbass porn music to the background," you reason. "You won't have to see anyone's dick, just the hotel room we're filming in and the hard drive it's on when it's done."

Zack has a hard time saying no to you, so you know you've got him locked in. "Fine, I'll give you some of my equipment, but you're paying me for my time and equipment, B. And if you jizz on my camera, I'll kill you," he finally relents.

"Yay!" You exclaim. "Does next Friday work?"

"Yeah," he says dejectedly before hanging up.

Brendon puts his phone down and puts his head in his hands. "My best friend just lost all respect for me," he groans.

You want to respond that first of all, you're his best friend, and second of all, Zack hasn't respected him for years now, but instead, you just say, "oh come on, he's just jealous. Not everyone's wife lets them have sex on camera together."

"Now you're letting me make a sex tape? I don't recall it happening that way," Brendon says.

You shrug, "Your memory is starting to go in your old age, I guess."

•••

It's the morning of the day you two are filming and Brendon's lying in bed next to you, fretting. "What if I fart?" He asks anxiously.

You're clutching onto the last few minutes of sleep you can before you need to go get ready to go to the hotel to meet with Zack, who's setting up the cameras, and Sarah, who's doing your hair, makeup, wardrobe, and making sure the room looks nice. Brendon won't be at the hotel until the evening because his job is just to show up and look sexy. "If you fart, Sarah will edit it out," you mumble, face squashed into the pillow.

"What if I come too early?"

"Just go down on me then. Or you can wear a cock ring if that makes you feel better."

"What if I'm so nervous that I can't… perform? You know, like, sexually."

You roll on your back, annoyed, giving up on sleep. You grab the pill bottle from your nightstand and shake out two blue pills. You hand them to him. "If you're really nervous about that, then take both of these an hour before we start. I got them just in case." You climb out of bed and put on a t-shirt and pair of high-waisted jeans to go meet with your crew. You go to the mirror hanging over the dresser on the wall across from your bed to check yourself out, and you catch Brendon gaping at you. "What?" You turn to him, "did I say something?”

He looks at you like you just skinned Penny in front of him. "Did you just give me boner pills? Y/N!" He scolds.

You did not give him boner pills; you gave him the off-brand Aleve you take for period cramps, but you know if he thinks he has medicine on his side, he won't stress as much and will therefore be able to get an erection for real. "They're not like intense drugs or anything you're thinking, babe, I swear. They'll just encourage blood flow to the genitals if you're already aroused," you lie. "You don't have to take them, and you still really don't have to do this," you remind him.

He slumps in bed, crossing his arms, delighting you when his muscles pop out a bit. "No, no, I want to, definitely. Just some nerves."

You finish putting on chapstick and move on to tying up your hair. "I still can't believe you've been famous for so long and have never had sex on camera. It feels almost irresponsible of you. Okay, I'm off, see you at 8. Call me if you're feeling anxious, okay, bub?"

Brendon nods, and you head to the hotel. You two decided to film in a hotel for a few reasons: safer for you both if it somehow gets out, if something bad happens you'll have tainted the memory of a hotel instead of your actual home, more space to put equipment, and you don't have to clean the house. Plus, you think the setting is just kinda sexy. He certainly didn't book you guys a motel six; you have the penthouse floor of the nicest hotel in your area. He refused to tell you the cost, even just for one night, so you know it must be exorbitant. It has a private elevator, massive floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, a four-foot-deep bathtub with jets that could easily fit five people if you needed it to, and even exclusive access to the heated rooftop pool. When you get up to the room, Zack is making sure the auto-focus on each of the cameras is working. "Hey, Zack," you greet him.

"Y/N! Hey, I have a proposition for you," he says, looking through one of his bags.

"No, you cannot join."

He chuckles. "No, nothing like that." He pulls out a GoPro with a head strap attached and dons it. "I will pay you five thousand US dollars in cash if you convince Brendon to wear this while y'all two do it."

"Hm, 10,000," you counter.

"7,000, final offer."

You shake your head, cackling. As curious as you are about what that footage would look like, you want your official sex tape to be as close to perfect as possible.

•••

You feel good about everything. Kala came to the room earlier to give you a private yoga class on the oversized balcony and then dish with you over her favorite things in the bedroom, a conversation which Zack interrupted a few times to "set the record straight," as he put it. You've showered and completely shaved, and Sarah's done your hair and makeup. The only thing you need to do is get dressed. Of course, that is if your damn husband ever shows up. He finally meets you at 9:47 pm in Sarah's hotel room, which he also paid for, downstairs from yours. He's out of breath but sputters out, "sorry, late, LA traffic."

You can practically feel the panic rolling off him, but you've prepared for this. "No worries, baby, can you meet me on the balcony to go over the game plan once more?"

He nods silently, and you take him outside, where you've set up a champagne bottle with two glasses on the small glass table. You motion for him to sit, and you fill the glasses each a third. Just enough to romance him and calm you both down a bit without hampering performance at all. He takes his glass, and you clink yours against it, but neither of you drink yet. "Don't be nervous, B. I'm not asking you to try to cartwheel inside me or anything. Just burning hot missionary lovemaking like we've done a million times before," you try to reassure him.

"I don't know why I'm so nervous," he admits.

You sort of get it, fucking is normally like breathing to you two, but the thought of lights and cameras on you is still a tad nerve-wracking. "I'll tell you what, how about a dress rehearsal? We do everything exactly how we want; practice the best angles for the camera, use our best dirty talk. I'll tell Zack not to roll the cameras. We'll just be having sex in a nice hotel, which is something we're pretty much pros at. And we can roll the cameras and do it for real tomorrow morning before checkout," you propose.

The tension leaves his body, "Okay, good plan."

You down your champagne. "Drink up, baby. I still want you to chill out a bit."

"Um, are you sure it's okay to mix alcohol with the," his voice lowers to a whisper, "medication you gave me?"

Yes, you're sure 2 ounces of champagne and low-dose over-the-counter pain meds won't kill him. "Well, be cautious, but I'm sure it's fine," you say gravely.

•••

30 minutes later, you've left him to get ready in Sarah's room while you get ready in yours. You're wearing a black crotchless lace teddy with a thong back underneath a sleek black robe that leaves just enough to the imagination,. You hear the ding of the elevator, warning you that the doors will open in mere seconds, revealing Brendon to you. You haven't been this excited since your wedding day. You haven't seen the outfits that each other has chosen yet, and the anticipation is coiling tight in your stomach. The seconds drag out painfully before the doors open, revealing Brendon to your hungry eyes. He's standing in the center of the elevator, fixing his cuff links and wearing a classic black suit with a white button-up shirt underneath. It's simple, but it suits him perfectly. He's exuding dominance and raw sex. There's a pregnant pause where you're just staring at each other, you lying on your side across the room on the bed and him standing in the open elevator. You're both breathing hard before you rush towards him as he steps forward out of the elevator. The doors close behind him just in time for you to push him against them. You crush your mouth against his, desperately kissing him. He easily overpowers you and reverses your positions. Your back is against the cold elevator doors, and he's pinning you against them with his large, soft hands wrapped around your wrists above your head. He presses his hips against you to make you further surrender control.

His mouth works against yours, and you nip at his plump lips before whining for him to release you. Finally, he does, and you push him against the wall perpendicular to the elevator. You drop to your knees, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants like your life depends on it.

"Shit, babygirl, you gonna blow me? Take my hard cock in your fucking exquisite mouth?" He asks.

You love his formal wear so much that you can't help but mouth against his dress pants before actually pulling his cock out. You reluctantly pull away. "I'd love to. That is, you'll let me… sir." You look up at him with big pleading eyes.

"Please, be my guest," he permits.

You pull him out of his pants, feeling almost greedy to get him into your mouth. You raise your hand up towards his mouth, "Spit, please," you request, and he does, spitting right into your palm. You use your now-slick hand to stroke him to full hardness before wrapping your lips around his head. You tongue at his slit and then suck him deeper down your throat.

Brenon hisses, and you hear the dull thud of his head hitting the wall behind him while you work. He puts a hand on your head, not pushing, just asserting his dominance over you. You love him getting dominant like this; he's mastered the line between firm and pushy. You know both that you'd do anything for him and that he'd never ever make you do something you don't want to.

You're bobbing on his dick like there's no tomorrow, somehow overriding any gag reflex you have just to please him. He's somehow getting harder as you work on him, slowly flushing into a dark reddish-purplish color. You know you've sufficiently gotten him ready to fuck you when you feel the nearly imperceptible twitching of his hips as he restrains himself from fully fucking your mouth. You pull off with an obligatory pop and tuck him into his waistband. "God, I can't stand it any longer. I need you to fuck me," you beg.

He pulls you to your feet and throws his jacket on the floor in the corner. Normally he's decently careful with his nice outfits, even at his most desperate, so you feel self-satisfied at his recklessness. Without warning, he scoops you into his arms, bridal-style, and takes you over to the bed. He lays you down, kissing your lips and face a few times before moving back off the bed. He stands at the foot of the bed, just admiring the stark contrast of your black silk robe against the white sheets. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, continually revealing his smooth skin. He finally finishes and lets his shirt fall to the ground. While he undresses, you shift onto your knees and take off your robe, lying on your side so he can admire the pricey Italian teddy you bought just for this that he’s never seen before. When he's down to his tight briefs, he crawls onto the bed towards you. You lie on your back and spread your legs, so he can see your wet cunt revealed by the cut-out in the crotch of the teddy. "Goddamn, that lace against your skin is heavenly. Just wanna fucking touch and stroke you for hours," Brendon admires. He does touch you, running his hands down your sides. You shiver, feeling beyond sensitive. He moves your hair to one side and pulls your hair just slightly so you'll tilt your head in that direction and expose a slice of your neck. He bites down on your earlobe and then sucks on the skin right underneath. He sucks a line of marks down your neck, and it feels so good that you don't even object to the obviously visible marks he must be leaving. "Love marking you up, claiming your body. Bet these will have barely faded until I've been gone for a month and can freshen them up myself when you come visit me on tour," he says against the warm skin of your shoulder.

"You wanna mark me up somewhere else? I brought the paddle," you tempt him.

His eyes widen to saucers, "Yes please, baby girl,"

You take the paddle out from under the pillow and hand it to him. Brendon sits on the bed, and you lay across his lap, positioning your ass squarely in front of the camera. He pats you with the paddle affectionately before hitting you for real. He varies the intensity and pace of each strike. By the time he's reached twenty, you're falling apart, whimpering and rubbing your pussy against his thigh and the hard line of his cock. "Okay, that's all for right now, love," he whispers, rubbing your flushed ass soothingly. He moves you onto your back, positioning a pillow, so your backside isn't uncomfortable.

Brendon peels off his underwear, fully exposing himself. He teases his cock against your opening, and you want to scream at how frantic you feel to get him inside. "Brendon, please," you beg. He finally, finally plunges into your slick heat. You've never felt so full and satisfied by him. You cry out in pleasure. His pubic bone meets your aching clit with each thrust, and his cock rubs against your g-spot when he bucks his hips. His lips crash against yours, and they're always full, but after kissing and nipping him earlier, they're downright plush. You clutch the back of his head, trying to press him as close to you as possible.

"You feel phenomenal around me. I love when you can't help but roll your hips to meet my thrusts," he compliments.

"Love feeling you inside me, never feel safer and closer to you than times like this," you respond, feeling overtaken with bliss. After that exchange, you two are silent for what could be a minute or could be an hour, just relishing the sensations of each other's bodies. The only sounds in the room are the satisfying slap of skin on skin, mingling with the occasional involuntary grunts and moans you both let out. Despite the cameras, you don't feel like you're putting on a show at all. Not for the video equipment, not for Brendon, hell, not even for yourself. Nothing has ever felt more natural. It's a crackling fire, the rhythm of the waves. He's got you right on the edge of the cliff, teetering precariously into falling into your orgasm.

Brendon strokes the side of your face, "You can let go if you need. Let yourself come." You're hesitant; he almost never lets you come so soon without putting up some kind of fight. "My love, rush towards that peak of pleasure. Come all over me, make a mess of these pristine sheets. You gasp and let go, intense gratification wracking your body. Your contractions snap around his cock. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth to concentrate on fucking you through it.

You're boneless and foggy, barely hearing Brendon when he asks, "Are you okay, love?" His thrusts stop, but thankfully, he's still inside you. You nod. "Words, babygirl," he coaxes, refusing to move until he knows you can handle it physically and mentally.

You swallow and pant, "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Please keep going. Please. I need," you cut yourself off to kiss him, unable to help yourself.

"Need what?" he teases. "My tongue?" He licks around the inside of your lips, "My fingers?" he strokes once on the hood of your still too sensitive clit.

You hiss, pushing his hand away. "Sorry, sorry, not there yet. Need your cock, please keep moving. I almost feel like I could come again with just a little more something." He moves again, more tentatively than before, and you definitely feel yourself rushing towards climax already. He resumes his near-bruising pace when he sees your head tilted back in contentment.

Brendon's face is red, and his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, but he's still the most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes on. "Oh, oh, oh," you chant. "Brendon, I know I just came, but I really don't think I can hold off much longer. I want to finish together. You close?"

He laughs, "God, I've been close. Just holding off for you, sweet girl."

You dig your fingernails into his back, and that little burst of pain is what spurs his orgasm. He explodes inside you, pumping hot come into you while he collapses next to you. You come right along with him. You only see black and can't stop shuddering. You bury your face in his slick chest. You can barely register him trying to keep you grounded by stroking your back. It takes a few minutes for your heart rate to slow and the aftershocks to subside long enough for you to feel human again. "That was… intense," you say breathlessly. His soft cock slips out and you clench your thighs together to keep his come inside of you.

His chest rises and falls rapidly. "You're telling me. Little death is right. I feel like I transcended this body."

"Is it blasphemous if I say that was better than our wedding night?" you ask.

He pauses to consider. "Maybe, but I think I have to agree. God, I can't believe I just had some of the best sex of my life, and it wasn't the one we decided to film," he says, chuckling at the absurdity.

"Well, um, about that-"

He cuts you off seamlessly. "The cameras have been recording the whole time," he guesses.

"The cameras have been recording the whole time," you confirm. "Look, I know it's technically illegal, but I knew you wouldn't ever really feel comfortable knowing that you were being filmed. Say the words, and I will delete the footage right from the cameras right now."

“Delete the footage? I wouldn’t dream of it.” Brendon kisses your lips giddily. "Oh my god. We just made a sex tape!"

"We just made a sex tape!" you echo his excitement, kissing him back.

Brendon crawls down and buries his face in your cunt, sticking his tongue inside you and eating you out like a five-course meal. He loves tasting you, but he especially loves getting to taste himself on you. He rubs at your clit, and you snap your legs close around his head, your third orgasm coming even easier than your second. It still feels good, but the contractions are starting to feel painful at this point. He looks up from between your thighs, and the sight of the bottom half of his face covered in your wetness rivals a thousand sunsets.

He moves back up and wraps his arms back around you. "Mm, wanna stay like this for an hour and then take a warm bath with my girl, but I've gotta get this footage down to Sarah to put it all together," he pouts.

"You don't need to babysit Sarah. She wouldn't leak it. I know her."

He shakes his head, "That footage doesn't leave my sight until it's in the safe. We don't have to give it to her right away, though," he yawns, snuggling against you.

•••

"Happy birthday!" he says, handing you a small box. You've been anxiously waiting for this moment all day, feeling antsy while waiting for your party guests to leave. Inside the box is a small blue flash drive. He's already seen the completed tape, he gave the final sign-off to Sarah, but you haven't seen any video whatsoever, not even the raw footage. Since it's your birthday gift, he's made you wait until your actual birthday.

"Ooh, can we watch it in the theater? Please?" you beg.

He scoops you up, just like the night you filmed it you remember, and carries you to the theater. He plugs the flash drive into the shitty projector that he bought just for this screening. Sarah did a fantastic job. It's somehow graphic and tasteful at the same time. The tape is dark, moody, and sensual, and Brendon's dominance and affection shine through. You're sitting in his lap while watching, and he's breathing hard behind your head. You can feel him get harder underneath you as the video progresses, and it's driving you wild. About a third of the way through the hour and a half long video, you pause it, unable to bear your lust anymore. You unzip Brendon's pants and guide his cock inside you to hold him there while you watch. You unpause and both tease each other as you watch the film. He strokes slowly on your clit and you squeeze your muscles around his erection. As the video gets more intense, he moves faster on your clit, and you bounce on his cock. You both try to time it just right to come along with your simultaneous orgasm in the tape, but you misjudge and end up coming too early. It's almost a relief, though. Now that you've taken the edge off of some of the lust, you can just focus on the complete love and adoration in his eyes while you watch.

"So, do you feel like that cheapened our marital bed?" video-you asks video-Brendon.

"I should've realized nothing could ever cheapen our marital bed. I love and cherish you so much, and our sex life is an extension of our utter devotion to each other. Just like nothing could cheapen my love for you, nothing could cheapen my love-making with you," video-Brendon answers before the tape fades out.

"So cheesy," you tell real-Brendon.

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you in his arms, "Maybe, but I meant every goddamn word."

[anthonycrowleymoved]

okay under the cut because we’re talking about fob and panic again on here and before someone says something about this to me i want to make my personal positions clear (this is about 2000s pop punk bands btw just to go over what you’re engaging with)

sooooo if you know anything about emo bands you know that at least two people i have been blogging about have Certain Allegations attached to them. the two people i am referring to are brendon urie and pete wentz. please note my info is like. five years out of date so if something has happened since i’m not really clear on it. anyway.

let’s start with pete wentz. so like, you know the really angry songs he wrote in the early days of fob? they’re all about one girl, who i’m not gonna post the name of because honestly she has enough bullshit about her on the internet. if you really want to know, you can probably figure it out pretty quick. anyway. there’s a bit of a question as to how old she was when they dated. she was, i believe, between......17 and 19? you can correct me.......when they started going out, and pete was like, 23? 24? something like that. without getting wildly into like, literally twenty years of shit, my opinion is that pete wentz did something skeevy but based on the information we have (which, i admit, is not a lot) i don’t personally think it was illegal (i think she was of age, based on the info people have. which doesn’t make it right, but people calling him a pedophile is. stretching it. in my personal opinion), and if it was the person involved hasn’t said anything to my knowledge, and from what i understand she wasn’t a fan so i don’t think there was that aspect of an inherent power dynamic involved. also, from what i understand, the person involved has never commented on it. and, i admit, those are for some shitty reasons, but the problem is all of the info we have is pretty unreliable because of that. if she came out tomorrow and said something happened, i’d believe her. but like, it’s ALL second hand info at this point. i’m not saying she should have to talk, but i just don’t like that the main sources on either side of this are people who were like. not at all involved so it’s coming to us fifth hand. i also think that this happened the better part of twenty years ago and nothing has happened since that i know of so i’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s like, maybe grown a little bit. yes, i know his current partner is significantly younger than him, but frankly they’re both consenting adults and they’ve been together for ten years at this point and i don’t care about that. and the whole ‘peter pan’ evidence is the biggest load of bullshit i have ever seen in my fucking life. i think that, for me, the problem with him is slightly too murky to like, criticize and hate him for it, and i’ve made my peace with what definitely happened with her (which i’m also not pleased with, but like. whatever). i’m. hoping this doesn’t come across as some sort of apologist bullshit, because that’s not my goal. my personal opinion on this is that i don’t want to like, idolize this man, but i, personally, think the details are too vague for me to put him on blast with every post i make. however, i DO think that, if you listen to fob, you should at least know and understand this particular allegation and come to your own conclusions.

i think that the allegations against brendon are. a little bit more clear cut, if they’re true. i know that she was a fan, i’m pretty sure she was underage, and i’m pretty sure he at least pressured her into sleeping with him. i know of at least one instance of this happening, because someone talked about it. unfortunately, it was on livejournal and it was anonymous. so people haven’t exactly. unpacked it. i do, personally, think that this happened. i also think he’s grown, but frankly because the allegations are a little bit more....severe, in my mind, and someone’s discussed it, and what they went through, i’m. a little less quick to forgive. maybe that’s because i was never a panic stan. i’m not going to pretend i’m not biased on this, i’m human. but i do think that there’s more first hand evidence regarding this than the pete wentz thing. that’s all i’m gonna say. i also get asshole vibes from brendon urie but, frankly, that’s more of a me problem. all i know is that, while i try to not like, personally credit pete (even for lyrics, just in case, because frankly it’s probably too vague to say either way from where i’m standing), i like. actually openly dislike brendon, because i truly believe he raped someone at one point. again, if you listen to panic i encourage you to look into this yourself, you may come to a different conclusion than me.

i encourage you, particularly if you listen to fall out boy or panic, to look into these issues and decide for yourself. don’t follow someone blindly, me OR the artist you like. i came to this conclusion after ACTUALLY looking into it and trying to find evidence on both sides. please do the same.

[mychemicalficrecs]

could i get a rec list of long (30k+) frank-centric any pairing fics? (preferably not in first person, and if there's smut with bottom frank)…weirdly specific but at least i know what i like?

Being specific is totally fine! Depending on what it is you’re looking for, it can even be super helpful :) I originally thought this would be difficult, but it turns out I already had all of these in my bookmarks. It didn’t specifically check for bottom!Frank though (sorry).

Frank-centric Longfic

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, Pennyplainknits, mainly Frank/Gerard, 164k, Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

Nightswimming by waxjism, Frank/Gerard, 141k, Not Rated. My Teenage Romance

Unholyverse by Bexless, Frank/Gerard, Ray/Mikey, 187k, Mature, Explicit. Religion! Horror! Exorcisms! Piercings! And Gerard is a priest.

Illyria (King and Country) by tabulaxrasa, Frank/Gerard, 57k, Explicit. Today, they'd woken up and Gerard was King of Illyria. Frank hasn't really been a stable boy since he ended up in the archduke's bed, but now Gerard's exile is over and he's king. Frank has to survive court, politics, and scheming nobles to figure out exactly what he is now.

Stunning Someone by morbid_beauty, Frank/Gerard, 82k, Explicit. Frankie, a tattoo artist living in Brooklyn, has basically everything ze wants...except, like, someone to cuddle with at night. As lame as that sounds. Gerard, an art student living in Manhattan, meets someone of questionable gender and starts a friendship with an unrequited crush. (Or: the one where Frankie is genderfluid, Gerard is kind of ignorant to much of the queer community, and sometimes you just fall for a stunning someone.)

Envision the Magic by innocent_wolves, Frank/Gerard, 69k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard is a talented magician, responsible for much of the success of the famous Envision Destiny cruise ship. He's also one of those people. You know, one of those people who just seem to take up all the space they come across with their arrogance and confidence. You wouldn't wanna touch their personality with a 10-foot pole, but still people admire them. That is beyond Frank. Working behind the cruise ship bars and seeing Gerard pretty much every day, he can't understand what's so great about him. Besides, everybody else doesn't have to deal with his snide remarks and rude comments. Because if there's one thing Gerard seems to love, it's the act of constantly pestering Frank.

Truths That He Learned by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Patrick/Mikey/Pete, Ashlee/Patrick/Pete, 37k, Explicit. It's Frank's senior year, and it seems like he's constantly having new experiences, at least half of which come as a complete surprise to him. He falls in love, comes out, and has sex, not necessarily in that order.

Fit to be tied by maryangel, Frank/Gerard, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.

Only Going One Way by ataratah, jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Crossover with due South. Constable Gerard Way of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Detective Frank Iero of the Chicago PD team up find Mikey Way in a city where bowling alley score cards hide secret codes, where the good guys are either lying or undercover (and sometimes lying about being undercover), and where criminal bakers make drug-laced frosting.

James Cameron Got It Wrong by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 57k, Explicit. In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019.

Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, Frank/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0-fuckin-kay, Frank/Gerard, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

and me here on the ground by ohnoktcsk, Frank/Gerard, 32k, Explicit. Frank's worked hard to build a life for himself in the city of Jersey, where dragons swoop and dive over the river, and every day is divided by the ringing of the city bells. He knows the streets of the city like he knows the the tattoos on the backs of his hands, and he's content with what he has: a job as a bike courier, friends who love to give him shit, and a crush on a professor of art history at the local university. But he's also got a secret—one he's been running from for a long time. But all it takes is one delivery to a mysterious, quite-probably-magical bookshop to show Frank that there are some things you can’t outrun. Especially since he’s finally found a place that he doesn’t want to leave.

Companion by onceuponamoon, Frank/Gerard, 34k, Explicit. A workplace AU. There’s a dude sitting in one of the high-backed chairs opposite the reception desk. Mostly obscured by a fake ficus plant between them, the guy probably wouldn’t have been noticeable save for the lazy sprawl of his legs, the Chucks contrasting against the floral rug.

Your Heart The Only Place That I Call Home by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, 30k, Explicit. When Frank and his crew of morally ambiguous ethernauts (pirates, as Imperial law would have it, but that's such an ugly word) fetch up on the doorstep of the fabled Sanctuary, they aren't expecting to find much - least of all a long-lost brother, a garden in a box and the key to an ancient riddle.

Give Me a Reason by mistresscurvy, Lindsey/Frank/Jamia/Gerard and most variants thereof, 38k, Explicit. July 2007. Frank is fucking stoked for the next tour. This one will be the best ever, because his wife's gonna be with him the entire time. They've been married for less than six months, and he still can't fucking believe he got to marry her. This summer is going to rock. But life never happens as he plans.

In Repair by autoschediastic, Frank/Gerard, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"

Promises, Promises by silentdescant, Frank/Gerard, 31k, Explicit. "Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway."

Cover To Cover by silentdescant, Frank/Gerard, 32k, Explicit. You've Got Mail AU. Frank owns The Shop Around The Corner, which specializes in classic and rare books, and Gerard is opening up a large branch of Way Books & Café down the street. They meet online and fall in love.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Frank/Jamia/Gerard, 30k, Mature. Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

Let The Darkness Lead You Home by rivers_bend, Frank/Gerard, 49k, Explicit. Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero's parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he's born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he'd go to in order to find a new family to call home.

Gross roomies by turps, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Explicit. Frank loves living with Mikey. Sure, the apartment is a mess, the kitchen's a toxic wasteland, and there's something growing in the refrigerator that's just a day or two away from becoming sentient, but other than those minor inconveniences, it's all cool. Or it is until Mikey decides to embark on a journey of sexual discovery and adventure and Frank's left at home with nothing but the fridge monster for company. To make matters worse, Mikey insists on telling Frank everything he does with his new kinky friends, right down to the tiniest detail. And now suddenly Frank is best friends with his right hand and he can't stop thinking about Mikey in ways he never has before. The really big problem, other than suddenly being in lust with his best friend, is that Frank isn't sure why.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, Frank/Gerard, ~44k, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

Church of Hot Addiction by spleenjournal, 0nlymemories, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Adult. When Gerard Way gets transferred to Our Lady of Peace in Arlington a few weeks into his Senior year, he thinks it's his chance to be cool. Too bad his idea of "cool" is no cooler than it was in 3rd grade, even if there aren't any green tights.

Paradox 'verse by stoplightglow, Frank/Gerard, 42k, Mature. You know the saying. The best part about hitting rock bottom is that you get to meet a hot psychic.

[williamismyhomeboy]

Interview from www.popmusicfan.com 2005

If you only choose one new band to listen to this year, don't let it be anyone other than The Academy Is. With a brand new debut CD out on Fueled by Ramen records and a tour with labelmates Fall Out Boy and Gym Class Heroes, this band is ready to show everyone that they take their music seriously -- but still have fun while doing it. We hung out with lead singer William Beckett on the April 14th stop of their tour and somehow braved the freezing Florida weather.

How's the tour going so far? William: Well, the tour has been pretty spectacular so far. This is our first tour having had the record out and it's been really overwhelming, the response from people and from the other bands as well. We're good friends with all the bands on tour, we didn't know Silverstein until like two days ago, but they're really cool guys. But yeah, it's been great, I miss Midtown... but there's always next time. If you had to choose three bands for the ultimate tour, either to go see or to play with, who would you choose and why? William: Fleetwood Mac because I love Fleetwood Mac, they're one of the great rock bands that did it in a pop way, in a really classy way, too. Led Zepplin.. to go see or to go play with? Jennifer: Either one. William: Oh, yeah, it'd be the same anyway. Pink Floyd, I wouldn't want Pink Floyd because it'd be bad to play with them, they're just too conceptionally profound. Their show is far too extravagant, we'd look like amateurs. Jennifer: Well, if you were just going to see them... William: Oh, yeah, so Pink Floyd. What are your pet peeves about the other guys in the band? William: I've never been asked this before, this is interesting. Yeah, there's a lot. It's a cool thing about being in the band, you never spend that much time with anyone ever. Even married couples don't spend that much time together and that's not even just one on one, that's seven or eight dudes sleeping on a bus. So yeah, we have our differences, just being different people, having different personalities. One day we'll be in a bad mood, one day we'll be in a good mood, one day someone will smell bad and we won't, you know... But for the most part, it's a really brotherly love/hate relationship like most brothers and sisters. For us, we're like a family, the way that we sort of stick it through, for the most part. If you found out you were adopted and you had two celebrities as your birth parents, who would you want them to be and why? William: Wow, I haven't been asked these questions before, this is really cool. If I found out I was adopted... do they have to be like during the same time? Jennifer: Nope, whoever. William: For a mom, I'd probably go with Audrey Hepburn and I'd probably go with... this is tough. I should pick someone like Abe Lincoln or someone crazy. Yeah, I'm gonna pick George Bush. Jennifer: Which one? William: GW, I'm gonna pick GW. Jennifer: Do you like Bush? William: I don't want to talk about it. But his kids seem to have a good time. [everyone laughs] Jennifer: True! William: Right? So there we are.

What's the most embarrassing CD you have in your collection? William: Well, I have a lot of guilty pleasures, stuff most people would think is like, 'What?' Like Rod Stewart and Prince, a lot of stuff that you guys probably don't like or listen to. But my first hip hop CD that I ever bought was Ginuwine so bad. Jennifer: That's not that bad, it could be worse! William: No way, that's so bad, that's so terribly bad. Jennifer: What about Sisqo or something? William: Well, that's... wait, is that you? Jennifer: No! [everyone laughs] Well, I do have his CD, but it's from like seventh grade! William: Yeah, Ginuwine... well, Sisqo's probably worse. But at any rate, I'm a big opera fan, too. That's not really an embarrassing thing, but yeah. Jennifer: Have you seen Phantom of the Opera? William: Yeah! Jennifer: Was it good? William: Uh, no. I've seen the actual opera before... Jennifer: I did, too! On Broadway? William: Yeah! And it's amazing, I was raised on the Andrew Lloyd Webber performance disc and then I saw the movie and it was cool, but they changed some lines and it was just really Hollywood. The singing wasn't great, all the actors actually sang so it was cool but they just didn't do it very well, I don't think. Who's the most famous person that you have in your cell phone? William: Probably, like... I don't like name dropping. Jennifer: You can do it, we'll forgive you. William: [laughs] I should make a joke... Pete Wentz, and that's a joke, but Pete's getting pretty famous. That I actually talk to? Jennifer: Um... yeah. Or do you have any random people in there that you just got from a friend or anything? William: Yeah, I have Jakob Dylan's number but I never use it. I have, I don't know, I don't really look for famous peoples' numbers but the most famous person I have is probably Lyor Cohen, you probably don't know who he is. He owns Warner Brothers and Electra and Atlantic. He's like a multi-billionaire and he's one of the coolest guys in the world. I've met a lot of label people before but yeah, he's probably the most admirable one. If you had to describe yourself in five words, which ones would you choose? William: Myself? I'm really bad with self description, I'm really good with self reflection and creation and song writing and things like that, but actually flat out 'this is who I am?' Honest, passionate, polite, moderately-conservative... hyphenated! And, uh, sexual. Jennifer: Oh, that's a good one! Just kidding. William: I'm actually kidding, that wouldn't be my top five. Jennifer: None of them? William: No! None of them wouldn't except for sexual. Kidding once again, there we are! There we are, just joking. So there's my four. What's the biggest purchase that you've made since getting signed and everything? William: Other than my laptop... uh, yeah, it's my new Mac G4, I don't know I feel like a nerd talking about it. But yeah, my new laptop, probably. I try to conserve, to save my money, I don't really like to spend it on a lot of things. What are one of your favorite lyrics from one of your songs? William: It's really hard because... I think you'd have to take each song for it's whole, the song in it's whole is the work, you know what I mean? But I guess in the bridge of "Down and Out," I don't know if you know which song that is, but that song is the closest to me personally. The bridge is really cool and really close to me and all of our friends, just because we name dropped all of our good friends who really helped us and who we wouldn't be here without, and a bunch of records that we were influenced by during the writing process. Like, uh, Johnny and Tony, if you know the lyrics, they started a small record label called LLR and we had our EP on there. I had a solo project in high school.. Jennifer: Wasn't that Remember Maine? William: Yeah! Wow! You did your homework. So that was sort of like the moment in my life where I was making the decision to do music versus going to school, and no one believed in me really except for me and Johnny and Tony. It was a little bit later on that Tony came into the picture but Johnny was and is my best friend and the reason why I'm here, so he helped us get our foot into the door and we've sort of had this success since then which surpassed what they did for us. But we kind of took them with us, like now Johnny is head of retail at Fueled by Ramen. We were like, 'Hey, Fueled by Ramen, this dude is awesome, pick him up!' And Tony is our tour manager, on tour with us, so it's great, it's awesome. That's pretty much the bridge. Jennifer: We were kind of talking about that last night, about how random all the names are and stuff? We were wondering about that. William: Well the song sort of starts with this story about domestic abuse and escaping and getting away from something that you're afraid of or harmed by, it's sort of really dark. But the whole essence of the song, we didn't want to just focus on that, we wanted to focus on the ups and downs of life and growing up. The second verse says a lot about that growth process and friends and coming to that realization that most of your friends in high school, you're going to have to say goodbye to relatively soon and that's something that's hard for everybody I think, to say goodbye to anyone, be it death or be it whatever someone chooses or ends up having have happen to them. But for us it's not about like finding a dark corner and hiding and blaming other people and getting angry and aggressive, it's about accepting darker times and sort of welcoming those things when they happen, you know, to better understand and appreciate the great things in your life and the people that love you. Are you okay? Jolene: Uh huh! William: You're just cold, aren't you? Do you want my jacket? Jolene: No, it's okay. William: Are you sure? Jolene: Yeah, I'm fine! William: So yeah, for us it was really fitting to make the song about more than just that instance, you know, to make it a little more well-rounded so that was just, yeah.

What's something that people would be surprised to learn about the band? William: Probably our seriousness and what we're trying to accomplish. We have a lot of fun, we do, we indulge but our main scope isn't to be a big band and get famous and get chicks, or to get drunk and do drugs and be like this icon. Like, no one will tell you that unless they're just straight up rockstars, but for us, we really want to help people and change the world in the smallest way or globally and that's really what our end of the road goal is. To transcend age, to transcend sex, to transcend race, to transcend languages. Bands like U2, bands like Pink Floyd and bands that I was talking about earlier, bands that shaped generations and shaped people. It's like, 'You're playing these indie tours, you're playing to these young kids, how are you supposed to change the world?' But for me, I see that as an opportunity also. I also want to appeal to older crowds, I want to appeal to people our age, or maybe people that are a little bit older, like twenty-six, twenty-seven years-old and I think that our record does and will once they hear it. But for the future, as we expand and grow and as our minds grow and as our musicianship and our scope and those things grow, we want to be one of those bands that can make a difference and can help people. We want to be that band that you saw when you were fourteen, like our parents loved the Beatles or whoever when they were fourteen years old and they still love them today, and they're like fifty or sixty years-old. That's the band that we're going to be, because we're going to be the band or the songwriters that stick with the generations. I think the way you do that is being fucking straight up honest and genuine and unselfish. If you write about things that are self-loathing and very trendy and very high school angst, those are the people you're going to appeal to and that's it. You know, your mom's not going to listen to a band that sings about slitting their own throat or hanging themselves or crappy metaphors that are in like, Goosebumps books, you know? I think being genuine and honest and smart and unselfish and really looking at the world in a different light... if you have a minute, I try to do this exercise every morning. I think about people's minds, in this example let's think about the musician or whoever that's on a label that's writing these lyrics, okay? I sort of think of their creative mind as a room and let's take one of these singers that sings about one of these things like self-loathing or slitting wrists or something. So they're in this room and it's totally dark, and they have this candle in front of them and it's creating this light that they can only see like three inches in front of their face. They can only relate to those three inches in front of them which is their own little isolation bubble where they can't relate to anything beyond that because they don't know it exists. So they're so wrapped in themselves, writing about how much life sucks and how much it's unfair and about how much they've been mistreated. Or also things that are very self-righteous, like, 'I'm the best, this is how you do it,' things like that. There are those people everywhere, they're in high schools, they're parenting children, they're on their death beds... they're everywhere, you know? These people, I think, especially these artists are too wrapped up in themselves to realize that there might be a wall behind them with a light switch and if you flip that switch there's this whole room around you that illuminates. And for me, that's the world around me, that's everything. That's this tree, that's you guys, that's my family back home, that's this show, these people that are here, the people that are staying at this hotel. It's how it's cold and you're cold and I'm sorry that you're cold, you know? It's the world around you. Every morning I try to wake up and turn on the light, I try to turn on my creative room light to make sure that I'm always viewing the world in the way. I think if more people did that, a lot of things could change for people in their own lives and in other people's lives. That's one of the main things that I'm trying to convey, especially in our newest stuff that we're writing for the next record, so yeah, that's sort of something that people probably don't know about me or us. Jennifer: You're awesome, I decided that. Just now. What's the strangest voicemail or answering message that you've ever received? William: Received? I've given a lot of crazy ones. Probably the strangest one I've ever received... man, it's on the spot, you got me again. I'm tongue tied. Ohhh yeah, this is awesome! [everyone laughs] There was a point when I got a lot of prank calls when people hated me and stuff, it was that stupid, like... Jennifer: Jealousy? William: Kind of, but it was before I had really any success, it was just myself going for what I believed in. Since I was doing something different and not going for a screamo band or something, so it was a big deal when I was playing an acoustic guitar and singing melodies, so it was like 'What the hell?' It was a big uproar. So I got like crazy ones like, 'You're a faggot, you should kill yourself,' stuff like that. Jennifer: That's so mean! Jolene: That's terrible! William: Yeah, but it's awesome, though. No, for real! It's so funny, I know for a fact that that person has grown up and has seen me live by example and that I went for my dream and it's totally paid off, and it's going to pay off in the future more fruitfully than ever. Instead of me feeling anger and being like, 'Fuck that guy, I hope he's burning in Hell' or whatever, I hope that he realized that the way that he was living and the fear that he had about being his own person, I hope that he turned that around, so yeah, it's kind of funny. Jennifer: What about one of the funny ones that you've left people? William: Oh, man, there were some nights that I just called people singing crazy songs that I totally made up at four in the morning, I don't even know, man. I can't really get into too much detail, there were some wild ones. I do voices, I'll be like, 'Hey, yo-a, it's Johnny from over at Auto Repairing, I got your car and it's looking sweet.' [everyone laughs] I have this British voice and this gay voice and some other shit and it's hilarious, I would leave people messages like that and not tell them who I am. What's the last movie that you saw? William: Last movie? Oh, man, that's bad, that's terrible. I had a journal that I write on the website and I actually just talked about this. I'm on this weird horror movie kick right now, and I'm into crappy old horror movies right now. Not even old, like eighties or nineties. I don't recommend them to anyone, it's like Pet Sematary and From Dusk Til Dawn. Well that's like a Quentin Tarantino movie so that's actually a good movie, but the last movie I actually watched was House of 1000 Corpses. [everyone laughs] Jennifer: Oh, God. Jolene: Did you like that? William: I think it's great! For two reasons, alright. One, it's not original by any stretch of the imagination as far as a horror film, it's like Texas Chainsaw Massacre meets something vile, you know. It's basically like Texas Chainsaw Massacre meets a strip club, that's what that movie is. But, BUT-- Jennifer: Oh, I want to hear the but, because I don't think there's any defending this movie. [everyone laughs] William: The way that the movie is edited and the way that the movie is shot, with the color contrast and the way that it looks is just fucking phenomenal. I think the movie is so cool purely because of the way that it looks and because of the cinematography of it, but I'm just a geek like that, those are the kinds of things I look for. But if we're talking about movies that are actually good, go buy Big Fish, it's a great movie. Jennifer: Is it good? I heard that it's really depressing. William: Did you? No way. Jennifer: I work at a video store and that's what everyone's told me, I haven't watched it. William: But those people that told you that mind be those people-- Jennifer: Oh, the close minded ones, yeah. William: The people with the light off! If you watch that movie it's so cool because it seriously confronts some issues like death and memories and relationships being parents and fathers and mothers and their children. I thought it was a really heartwarming movie, especially at the end. It's not this cheese fucking Hollywood ending that everyone wishes would happen but doesn't, you know, but yeah I think it's a great movie. Jennifer: Have you seen I Heart Huckabees? William: I have not, yet. Jennifer: It seems like a movie you'd like. William: I'm sure I would like it. Jennifer: It's kinda like, off the wall, it seems like one you'd like. William: My girlfriend got it and said that it was pretty cool and I'd probably like it. Yeah, I should probably get it. Jennifer: Yeah, I didn't like it that much. William: You didn't? Jennifer: I like my stupid girly movies. William: Like what? Like what? Jennifer:: Like, have you seen the Notebook? William:: I haven't seen that one yet! Jennifer: What?! It's so good. You will cry, I bet. William: I'm one of those dudes that cries in movies, like seriously. Jennifer: Everyone cries in that movie! William: Dude, I even cried in, this is so embarrassing, I even cried in A Walk to Remember. Jolene: Oh, I cried in that one. Jennifer: That movie is so sad! William: I cried like seven times in that movie ALONE, I was alone! I have a huge crush on Mandy Moore, too, like a Hollywood Crush. Jennifer: That one was really sad. William: But at the same time, you know, it's also very... Jennifer: No. William: You don't think so? Jennifer: No! She should've lived. William: But she did through him! She changed. Jennifer: I know, I know! But wouldn't it have been better if she just lived forever? William: Well, it's not Hollywood. Jennifer: I know! What's in your pocket right now? William: Like, seventeen cents in change and a guitar pic, and that's it. Oh, and my cell phone is in my jacket, if that counts. Jennifer: It counts! William: These are cool questions! Did you make them up, too? Jolene: No. [laughs] William: Maybe you should let her make some up next time! Jennifer: I tried! I was like, 'Jolene, help me think of some questions.' She said, 'We're going to do it on the way there.' Two and a half hours later, oh no, no questions. [everyone laughs]

What's in your CD player right now? William: I have an I-Pod. Jennifer: Well what's on your I-Pod that you're listening to a lot lately? William: I'm just going to be difficult. No, I have an I-Pod, sorry. [everyone laughs] I listen to tapes, I don't even have a CD player. No, uh, what am I like loving right now? I'm loving Ryan Adams right now. I'm loving Muse. Jennifer: Oh, they're so good! William: I was on this huge Muse thing and I totally forgot about it and didn't listen to it for forever. I listened to them again today and I was like, AH! I was like, [does Italian voice] yes, yes, yes, this is so good. [everyone laughs] I'm listening to a lot of Radiohead, I'm always listening to Simon and Garfunkel, I'm a huge Simon and Garfunkel fan. Prince, I'm listening to a lot of Prince, a bit of Bowie. It's sort of today's little shuffle encompassed, so that was that. What's the last concert you've went to, other than one that you've played at? William: Damn... I was at South by Southwest but I didn't see any bands, I was just wandering throughout the streets. Last time I was at a show, watching bands... oh, yeah! it was an acoustic show in Chicago, it was Bob Nanna from Hey Mercedes and Justin Pierre from Motion City Soundtrack. They just played acoustic, it was really cool. What are some questions that you hate hearing in interviews? I probably should've asked you this at the beginning so I wouldn't have asked you any of them. William: [laughs] Yeah, right! There really aren't any questions that I really hate, I encourage tough questions. I enjoy people asking tough questions. Hard hitting questions or ones that are condescending because it's their right as journalists to ask those questions. I wouldn't ask somebody, 'What songs do you hate? And I won't write those.' No, I wouldn't ask anyone that, I would just write what I love and write what I want. So yeah, that's my answer. What's a question that you've been wanting an interviewer to ask you but they haven't? William: I haven't thought of one because with every interview, with a few exceptions, I've been asked new questions that I haven't heard before, like today for instance. That's enough for me to keep interested.

[harryandmolly]

Ten Years - Part Three (Final)

summary: ten years after 2007 Warped Tour, Shawn and Val come face to face in London

warnings: Language, NSFW (unprotected sex), A Sense of Finality (TM)

WC: 5.9k

--------

He bought her tiny headphones.

Shawn called at least six of his friends he knows have kids -- Mark Hoppus, Travis Clark and Pete Wentz among them. He asked them what kind of noise-deadening headphones they bought for their kids when they were babies. He did research about decibel levels and infant hearing development. He splurged for the best pair.

Alice’s first Forefront concert is on February 26th, 2018 at the O2 Arena in Greenwich. Val has been planning Alice’s concert outfit for at least a month, which of course is foolish, because Alice is growing like a weed. They don’t know who is more excited about it, Shawn or Val. Alice, in her tiny Chuck Taylors with giant cushiony headphones that look like oversized Princess Leia buns over her ears, is clueless.

Forefront is playing a quick series of four shows at the O2 to round out the final promo push for their last album before Shawn really settles into writing the new one. They’ll be the last Forefront shows until the holidays. Shawn wonders where he’ll be then.

He heads to the arena early for soundcheck, so the girls will meet him there before the show. He put Diet Coke on the rider for Val and Farley’s Rusks for Alice. He wants them to feel at home there with him, wants to show Val that this kind of family, though unconventional, could work for all of them.

It’s been a couple months since they returned from their holidays. Adjusting hasn’t been entirely simple. Shawn barely slept at his rental flat for the first couple weeks after New Years, spending every spare second he had with Val and Alice, but they soon realized that wasn’t the best way to begin this.

It needed to make sense. Practically living together so quickly gave both of them an uneasy feeling of deja vu drawing back to the night before he left her on Warped Tour with an armful of hastily made promises. What made sense were baby steps.

They spent a lot of time on FaceTime at first. Slowly, they found ways to incorporate Shawn into Val and Alice’s fairly strict routine. They started taking walks around Farringdon a couple nights a week to lull Alice to sleep. He began spending the night on weekends, then staying over after their night walks and learning the morning ritual. He’s gotten good at it. He’s even helpful now.

He’s trying not to think too far ahead. He knows writing the album can only take so long. When it’s done, they have to record it, which they’ll be doing in LA. On the other side of the world. When he thinks about it, his blood feels thick and sluggish, dragging through his veins as panic sets in. He’ll be so far away. He’s going to miss them so much it’ll feel like he left a limb back in England. 

This is why he doesn’t think about it.

He’s curled up on the sofa in the green room with an acoustic in his lap, riddling out what this song in his head is trying to say when there’s a knock. Andrew enters wearing a very self-satisfied grin, toting Val and Alice behind him.

Aside from the child in her arms, Val looks about as much like a tired mum of an almost-one-year-old as Shawn does. Her hair’s blown out in soft, touchable curls. Her now vintage Forefront tee is strategically worn and torn, tucked into the tightest high-waisted jeans he’s ever seen that get swallowed up by thigh high leather boots.

The noisy green room full of Forefront members, assorted crew and some London-based friends all fall almost silent. If Val notices, she doesn’t let on. Shawn bets she’s used to it. Val’s never walked into a room where she hasn’t drawn every eye. Even with a squirming, squealing baby in her arms.

Shawn practically throws the guitar beside him and leaps to stand. Val beams, her red painted lips spreading eagerly. It’s all Shawn can do not to kiss her like they’re alone. The guys whistle anyway.

“Fuck off,” Shawn laughs as he pulls away, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. She wipes a bit of lipstick off his mouth, though looking at her, you wouldn’t be able to tell that it smudged. Shawn’s never understood that kind of power.

Each of the Forefront boys take their turns greeting her and introducing themselves to little Alice, who has them wrapped around her pudgy fingers with a single nearly toothless smile. Seth is the only one that asks to hold her, and, incidentally, is the only one Val would’ve allowed to do it. Even so, Shawn hovers impatiently beside Seth the whole five minutes before Seth gives up and forks over the baby. 

Shawn scoops her into his chest and showers her little face with kisses as she squeaks and kicks her powerful sausage legs. Val watches, propped on the arm of the couch with her long legs folded.

“Good to see you again.”

Val looks over her shoulder. Francis is wearing the same troublesome smile she remembers. She grins back.

“It’s been a while.”

“Been a fuckin’ lifetime,” Francis laughs, dropping into the seat next to her, watching Shawn let Alice pluck at the guitar he usually doesn’t let anyone else touch.

Even with the smile, he’s different than she remembers. A little more subdued, maybe a little less focused on competing with Shawn for all the attention in the room. He seems more inside himself in a way a man only can be when he’s grown up. Val’s not unfamiliar with this kind of energy shift. Between the Streets of Gold and All Time Low boys, she’s watched a lot of pop punk brats grow up. From impatient, ambitious teenagers, they become kind, wise, thoughtful men. Francis, she can sense, is no exception.

“Haven’t seen him like this in so long,” Francis admits, looking over her with a ghost of ebbing suspicion in his gaze. She understands why.

“Not that he’s been, like, miserable or anything,” Francis assures her, widening his eyes a little to support his words, “But, you know. Maybe a bit lonely.”

She nods. Her eyes are warm and understanding. Francis sees how Shawn could’ve fallen into them and never found a way out again. 

“Me too, I think,” she murmurs.

The room brightens up even more as the guys prepare for the show. The opener is audible and muffled around the screams of tens of thousands of fans. Val, with her daughter back in her arms, watches as the scared, humbled kids she used to watch pout over playing for a dozen kids prepare for an arena show without breaking a sweat. They each take a tequila shot beside the stage. Val tastes it in Shawn’s mouth when she takes one last kiss. Their chests rumble with the drum track that plays to hype up the crowd before they take the stage. Shawn adjusts Alice’s comically large headphones one last time and checks her face for any sign of upset or discomfort. Her big beautiful eyes are wide, taking it in. They snap shut when Shawn kisses her on the nose with a chuckle.

With one last proud, excited glance over his shoulder, Shawn strides out onto the stage, guitar slung behind his broad back, greeted by roaring, adoring screams. Val swallows and bounces Alice against her hip, feeling almost starstruck.

The show is the finely-tuned version of what she remembers. It’s unstructured and free and fun, a celebration of the music, the friends, the night. Every fan in the gigantic room is a friend and everyone’s here for the party. It’s everything a pop punk show should be, but on a larger scale. 

Val dances and sings along, holding Alice’s fingers and twirling to make her laugh. She catches Shawn’s eye several times, her heart vaulting over a beat with each one, giving and accepting more kisses when he jogs back occasionally to change out a guitar.

By the time the show ends, Alice has fallen asleep and been toted off by Bobby’s mom to nap in the green room. 

“You let Louise take her?” Shawn whines as he comes off stage panting, having to yell over the fading cheers and applause, “Bad idea. I mean, just look how Bobby turned out.”

Bobby lets out a cry of protest. Val lifts Shawn’s sweaty, bare arm and slings it around her shoulders.

“‘S ok. She’s asleep. And we’re busy.”

Shawn blinks, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Are we?”

Instead of returning to the green room, Val takes Shawn by the hand and guides him to his private dressing room. He watches her lead him, or watches the pockets on the backs of her jeans twist and flick as she swings her hips. He can feel his pulse in his ears when she locks the dressing room door behind them.

She’s quiet for a minute, and it’s unnerving. But he knows better than to break it first. He can feel it in the air around them.

Val tilts her head, looking him up and down hungrily. She leans against the back of the couch and pushes some curls out of her face.

She’s all leg and dark hair and brown skin and fire. Shawn gulps comically.

“You are so fucking sexy.”

He blinks. He was thinking it, but he swears he didn’t actually speak. It takes him a beat too long to realize she’s the one that said it.

“Oh yeah?” he pants.

She nods, reaching a hand out for him. He scrambles a bit to take it, greedy for her invitation. She smiles knowingly, lovingly, and pulls his hands onto her hips. He allows himself one needy squeeze before he’s determined to behave himself. 

Even though he’s looking down at her, he’s the one that feels like the willing prey to her predator. She reaches up and fingers the necklace hanging against his chest. Her eyes remain steady on his as he waits for whatever’s coming.

“You’re so powerful on that stage. Confident and sensitive and open and in control. Been wet for you since the first song.”

Shawn’s breath hitches. He quirks a smile. She smiles back and it’s like a shot of adrenaline to his heart.

“But you know who’s in control here, papi?”

Shawn’s eyes flutter shut. His shoulders soften. His body relaxes even as he throbs hard for her already in his jeans. He throws himself into desperately desired surrender.

“You.”

The word is like a prayer on his lips. It hangs heavy between them. He opens his eyes to see her nodding hungrily.

“Get on your knees, honey.”

Shawn muffles a groan, slowly descending to kneel on the carpet at her feet. She watches, satisfied as he blinks up at her, wide-eyed and awestruck.

“Wanna take my boots off?”

He wets his lips and lets his eyes drop to the zipper resting against her inner thigh on her left leg. He feels a flash of a memory prod him, the memory of an inhumanely hot day in Texas in the summer of 2007, the feel of sweat dripping down his neck with the taste of the woman he loves on his lips. He shivers.

Val pushes red polished fingers into his hair, seemingly unbothered by the sweat and hair paste that have thickened it. His eyes flutter. He lifts his hands to her leg, pulling the zipper slowly, admiring her as she so graciously lets him, until he pulls the boot and sock off and starts on the other leg. By the time he’s finished with his hands cupped around the backs of her knees, he’s panting.

Val, watching him with a small smirk, reaches down to lift the hem of her shirt with his band’s logo on the front. Her intricately detailed lace bra is nude, the color of brown sugar, almost as pretty as all her bare skin. Shawn shudders a breath that feels like it scratches on its way out. He tilts his forehead against her hot stomach and forces an inhale.

She starts clawing at the shirt on his back. He can feel how desperate she’s becoming through the haphazard dragging of her nails on his skin until she yanks it over his head and pulls him to his feet. Her eyes are flooded and dark. Her lips are parted. She’s staring at him like she’s trying to decide what she should have him do next. He tucks a curl behind her ear, skimming her soft cheek with his thumb.

“Anything, baby. I’ll give you anything. I’m yours. Please.”

His voice is hoarse from the show and from the closeness of her. She inhales sharply, her incredible breasts rising temptingly in her bra before she snaps like a viper, dragging his lips to hers. They kiss like they’re aching. They’re not shy about biting, sucking, moaning, tasting, taking. They need this. And it feels so fucking good.

Val’s lips wander with purpose, smearing Russian Red over his sharp jaw until she hits paydirt, sucking and nibbling at the spot below his ear that gets him loud.

“Jesus Christ, Vally,” he gasps, rocking his hips hard against her stomach. She mewls at his reaction, biting harder, soothing him with her tongue as he quakes in her arms. He can’t keep quiet. His every breath is a gasping moan. He’s outside himself and he’s not even naked yet.

She seems to want to fix that, fingers tripping over hard muscle on their way down to his jeans, which he helps her peel off, along with his blue Calvins. Next come her jeans, which are even snugger and make Shawn’s fucking head spin. Her matching bra and panties are quickly forgotten, wet and useless on the ground.

She’s propped up on the arm of the couch, legs spread to cradle him between as they writhe like teenagers. Shawn’s cock throbs insistently, trapped between them as her nipple rings brush his chest. Their kisses are so wet and messy, they’re nothing more than a way to be connected while they gasp for air.

“Vally, let me give you something. Please. Fuck.” His voice is fucked out, breaking for her. He’s sure she wants something -- his fingers? His tongue? Both? Whatever she wants, it’s hers. But he needs her to take it.

She shakes her head fervently, her eyes glassy. “Can’t. Can’t wait. Need you inside me.”

Shawn’s gasp is so loud it rattles both their chests as they continue to rock their bodies together. He’s nodding so hard he almost headbutts her. She giggles, making his cock twitch again, and eases him away gently.

Shawn stands back, fists clenched, watching her lift herself off the arm of the couch only to turn around and unfurl over it, her ass in the air, her sticky, sweaty hair stuck to her soft back. She spreads her legs enough for Shawn to see her pink and glistening wet for him. He grabs at his dick, giving himself a squeeze at the base as he swears.

“Holy shit, Valentina.”

Val’s grin, the unholy one, the one he’d let drag him to hell, settles in on her swollen, smeared lips. “Let me show you how I like it this way, papi.”

Shawn’s never given up the opportunity to let her teach him a lesson before. He’s not about to start now. He nods again like a fucking bobblehead doll and practically stumbles up behind her, hands gripping her hips.

Val secures a hand around the back of the couch and looks at him over her shoulder again. “Go ahead, baby. I’m nice and wet for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” he grunts, positioning the head of his cock against her dripping entrance. He presses in slowly, watching her face.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, sounding high on him, spreading her legs a bit further, greedily. Shawn whimpers when he bottoms out.

“Now,” she hisses, struggling to speak coherently, “Keep your hips still for me. Just feel me.”

Shawn begs whatever higher power there is for self-control and slides his hands up to grip her waist as she starts to move. From above her, he watches her body roll, her hips rocking smoothly from side to side as she sets their pace. Shawn’s jaw drops. He holds fast, stunned as she takes what she needs from him exactly how she wants it.

“Feels so good, baby,” she praises, though she’s doing all the work. Shawn mumbles back in the affirmative, transfixed by the slowly increasing pace of her rocking motion as she fucks him.

“Never done it like this before,” he rasps, shaking his head at her ingenuity. With her hands planted below her, she gives him a pulse with her tight walls and smirks over her shoulder.

“I like to keep you guessing.”

He moans, rattling through into her squeezing wet core. She gasps, rhythm faltering. In a few seconds. She’s using her hands for leverage, pressing back into him and ebbing away, sliding his cock in and out as he remains still.

“Vally, baby,” Shawn growls, shifting one large hand from her waist to caress her back, lovingly skimming every notch of her spine. He takes a handful of her ass, kneading her flesh in his fingers. She purrs his name and his other hand off her waist, trailing it down to skim over the patch of hair crowning her perfect pussy. Shawn takes the hint and presses two firm fingers into her clit, letting her grinding motion serve her best.

“Yes!” she cries, thrusting back harder, riding him unforgivingly. He’s holding on by the skin of his fucking teeth for her. He knows she’ll give it when she’s ready. She’ll be ready once she takes hers.

“Gonna come, Vally?”

She nods breathlessly. With one last flash of dark eyes over her shoulder, she hisses, “Fuck me.”

Shawn’s eyes go wide. He bucks his hips, catching up with her rhythm quickly as his starts strumming his fingers against her clit, watching her come up on her tiptoes beneath him, her back arching.

“Yes! Yes! Harder!”

Shawn bears down, grunting with each powerful swing, trying to ignore the filthy sound of her wet cunt around his shaft. He wants to get her there first before he follows. He shifts his hand, gets her clit between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, pulsing her clit between his fingers as his hips pound her ass.

“I’m gonna come!” she cries, the end of her announcement swallowed up by a squeak that makes his stomach drop. She rolls her hips hard against the arm of the leather couch, fucking back against him relentlessly, her pussy clenching and pulsing as she comes hard all over his cock. 

Her grunting is unintelligible, but Shawn thinks it’s a mix of slurred Spanish punctuated by his name. He can’t tell. His ears are ringing as he follows close behind her, screaming “FUCK!” when he finishes. Their hips roll to a stop. One of Val’s hands releases his ass cheek that she reached back and grabbed, her nails leaving marks. Shawn winces, chuckling, pulling out of her to secure a wet towel from the bathroom.

He squats behind her, leaving little kisses over her ass and thighs as he wipes her gently. She makes a whimpering noise and reaches for him. He unfolds her carefully to stand, weak and supple as she rests against his chest. He continues spoiling as much of her as he can reach with kisses until she’s giggling so hard he laughs with her.

“Holy shit,” she declares, lifting her head to look at him.

He shrugs. “You started it.”

Smug, she grins, “I always do.”

+

On July 22nd, Shawn is booked on a flight to Toronto to see his family for a few days before leaving for LA to begin recording.

He stretched the writing out for as long as he could. He pored over lyrics, samples, suggestions from co-writers and producers, piecing it together, then tearing it apart. The problem is, it was flowing out of him. This album was right under the surface of his skin, not letting him rest until he got it out.

It’s mostly about her, of course. Val knows. She helped write a few tracks. By the time summer came, Shawn had all but moved out of his rental flat and in with Val and Alice, full time boyfriend and dad-like figure. They celebrated Alice’s first birthday in Hyde Park. They made picnics for Sundays in Kensington Gardens and Shawn ran around with Alice in the Princess Diana Memorial Playground. He and Val made passionate, ferocious, intimate, quiet, silly, giggly, perfect love for months on end, knowing a drought was coming.

And then it came. The album was ready. There was no hiding from it, not with the hooting and hollering of the label and his management. The time to leave London hit Shawn and Val like a ton of bricks. They traded off being The Positive One and The Miserable One until… well, until they were both miserable.

Standing outside her flat with a black cab waiting to take him to Heathrow, Val holds Alice in one arm and swipes at her tears with the other. She forces a smile. Shawn’s eyes are red and cloudy. His hair is frizzy from how often he’s been jerking his hands through it. He tries to smile back.

“Come here, papi,” she croaks, opening her arm to him. He shuffles forward, draping himself around his little family. He sniffs into her shoulder, willing himself not to cry again. At least not until he gets in the cab.

“We love you,” she whispers hoarsely. He squeezes his traitorous eyes and cradles his girls, rocking them against his chest. Alice, clueless, grabs a handful of Shawn’s hair and yanks.

He smiles for real this time, peeling her little fingers off his hair and bringing her fist to his lips. She patiently coos at the pecking kisses he leaves all over her face and hair until his throat tightens and his chest rattles.

He pulls back to look at her and glances at her mother, who’s trying to hold it together and failing.

“Listen,” he rasps, tucking a hand up under Val’s soft hair to massage the back of her neck, “I-I know you’re superwoman and you can do this all on your own. I know you don’t really need me. Just… just try to pretend you do until I come back, ok? Please? Don’t forget… that I’m part of the family now.”

Val’s heart splits. It’s clean and sharp and she’s sure he could hear it in her chest as she felt it. She releases a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth as he pulls her close to brush his nose through her hair.

“Baby… we need you. God, we do need you. We love you, we both do, so much. And fuck, even if we didn’t need you, we want you. We chose you. Ok? I’ll remind you of it every day. We love you so much, baby. I love you.”

Val buries her face in Shawn’s neck. His heart is so full it aches. He can only hope it’s enough to sustain him until he can try to wrangle a time for them to visit, or for him to fly back. 

“I’ll finish as soon as I can. I promise. I’ll--”

The cabbie honks. Shawn grunts, irritated. With a slow inhale, he peels himself away.

He swallows. “I love you, Vally. I love you, Alice.”

He steps backward and tucks himself into the cab. Val and Alice wave until it’s long out of sight. 

+

“She’s got another tooth coming in. She’s like a shark, this kid. It never stops.”

Shawn laughs. He’s got the phone up against his ear and a hand resting on his chest like he’s trying to hold his fragile heart together. He’s face up on his bed in his LA rental. West Hollywood is noisy outside on a Saturday morning.

On the other side of the planet, London is quiet and rainy. Alice went to sleep an hour ago, so Val called Shawn to keep her company. It’s been two months and 17 days since he left for LA. He flew out to see them last month for two days because he got so miserable, his band banished him and told him not to come back to the studio until he got his Val and Alice fix. Leaving them was a little easier that time, knowing he wouldn’t be gone so long. The album was practically complete. The process had been slowed down by meetings about planning a tour and Shawn’s personal ventures writing with other artists, even helping produce a single for All Time Low. But in 18 days, Shawn would be home.

Home, home. As in, sending his stuff from Toronto, planting himself permanently on the other side of the pond, home. He’ll be moving in with Val and Alice until they can decide on a newer, bigger, better place -- Shawn likes the idea of a townhouse in North London, quiet and removed. Val wants to stay in the city, closer to the museum, in a three-bedroom flat in Kensington, maybe near the park if they can afford it.

Until that time, phone calls and FaceTime sustain them. Shawn is antsy, has been all day. He thinks he hears the same edge in Val’s voice. Phone sex isn’t at all new. It’s one of the only things that’s been keeping them sane during their separation. Usually Val is the one instigating, though. But he wants her to feel wanted, seduced. He’s just not sure he knows how to begin without stumbling into it.

“So… uh, what are you wearing?”

Idiot.

Val laughs. “A latex bodysuit and red lipstick.”

He grunts and wrinkles his nose. “That’s a mean image to put in my head.”

“Mhmm. Well, what are you wearing?”

He glances down at himself like he forgot. “Uh, sweatpants.”

“Me too. Yours, actually.”

Shawn bites down on his lower lip, worrying the ring with his tongue. “What’s underneath?”

She pauses. “Well, I could lie and say I’m wearing the little red ones you like with the straps and the lace. But really, I’m wearing the boyshorts I sleep in.”

Shawn hums, closing his eyes. His fingers twitch on his chest. “That’s ok, I miss those, too.”

“What else do you miss?” Val murmurs, shutting her bedroom door behind her and dropping onto the bed, getting comfy.

“I miss… fuckin’ everything. I miss the way your hair smells in the morning. I miss your tattoos. I miss the spot under your belly button that makes you squeak when I kiss it. I miss the way you taste.”

Val’s eyes fall shut. She slips her hand down her belly and into the waistband of her panties. Her sigh is enough to tell him what he wanted to know.

“Touching yourself, honey?”

She nods, though he can’t see. “Join me.”

Shawn huffs a breath and wriggles out of his sweats, kicking them at the door. He spreads his thighs, determined to go slow. He’s so keyed up that if he starts hot and heavy right away, he’ll beat her to the finish line. Even by phone, he refuses to do that.

He runs his hand up his inner thigh and gives himself a squeeze through the fabric. Val smiles at his sharp inhale.

“What do you want tonight, baby?”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You’re… you want me to pick?”

She hums, cupping her pussy, rocking into her hand as she lets herself imagine the options. “Whatever you want.”

“Could you… I mean, like, if you want to… I-I miss your mouth.” He goes hot pink and waits.

Val tilts her head back. “God, that sounds so good. I miss being on my knees for you.”

Shawn sighs, wrapping a hand around the head of his cock through his boxers, massaging himself, “Yeah. Feels so good every time, honey. You’re incredible.”

Val feeds off his praise. Soon, her panties and sweats are crumpled at the end of the bed. “I like starting by kissing your chest and your stomach. Soft at first, looking up at you while I taste your skin. Then sharper, harder, leaving marks.”

“Yeah,” Shawn grunts, “Mark me.”

“Little bruises on your chest. I swirl my tongue around your nipples. I know they’re sensitive.”

Shawn flicks one with his thumb and lets her hear his breathing hitch. “Yeah, baby.”

“I like leaving a trail of marks down your abdomen to show you where I’ve been. Shawn, you’re so hard for me.”

Shawn kicks out of his boxer briefs and fists his cock, groaning, “So hard, fuck. You drive me crazy like this.”

She’s barely done anything yet and he’s losing his mind. He thinks absently when she gets hands on him again he’s going to come so fast his head will spin. He blinks to focus.

“I like trailing my lips over your cock, feeling it twitch for me. Shawn, use your fingertips. Nice and light.”

His face scrunches as he obeys. It’s torturously gentle, just like her. He sighs heavily into the phone.

“Is your pussy wet?”

“Mhmm. You know I always get wet sucking you.”

He groans again, louder. “Shit, Val.”

“My tongue is warm on your shaft, sweeping up the vein on the underside. Getting you nice and wet before I take you down my throat.”

Shawn grips himself tighter and starts stroking leisurely. His abs tense and release.

“I know you like it when I suck on the tip, flick at it with my tongue,” she hisses, spreading her legs and toying with her clit.

“I do,” he groans, “Love your mouth on me, fuck.”

Val grins, smoothing her fingers over her wet lips, rubbing faster at her hard button of nerves. Shawn hears the change in her breath.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Vally, please?”

“I’m rubbing my clit just like you do,” she breathes, “Fast and hard like when you want me to come on your fingers.”

Shawn’s jaw drops. His eyes snap shut. His hips thrust up toward his clenched fist. “You get so tight and wet for me, Vally.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, “Wet like my mouth on your cock. I wanna feel you in my throat. Fuck your fist and pretend it’s my mouth.”

“Oh Jesus, Val.”

Shawn tightens his hand and plants his feet, swinging his hips up to meet the thrusts of his fist like she told him. It’s not her, but it’s enough for now.

“Baby,” he whimpers, “Imagine my fingers are inside you. Pulsing in and out like you showed me. Pressing up on your g-spot.”

Val’s chest gives a rumbling moan. Her own fingers do the trick well enough. They’re both on the brink of coming.

“Come in my mouth, Shawn,” Val pants, feeling her walls flutter around her fingers.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn chants, releasing onto his chest with a gasp of her name.

“So good,” she chokes, coming on her fingers right alongside him, rolling her hips.

They fall silent soon enough. Shawn blinks slowly and reaches for tissues.

“I’ll be home so soon, baby.”

Val smiles, resting her hand on her stomach. “Counting the seconds, papi.”

+

Val bounces Alice so fast she starts to cry.

A little horrified at her own absent-mindedness, Val hushes her, whispering sweet words in Spanish and starts swaying back and forth instead until Alice quiets and continues tugging at Val’s hair.

Shawn’s flight was late leaving JFK. Never has Val wished so hard for the existence of the Concorde. Tiny Parent Trap-era Lindsay Lohan’s voice mocks her in her head -- 

“Did you know the Concorde gets you here in half the time?”

Val wrinkles her nose in annoyance. What did they really need the Concorde for, anyway? To make a dramatic entrance? Whatever. Val hasn’t seen the love of her life in almost two months. And she’s a single mom with a small baby, so she really should get the Concorde. And--

Val’s ranting thought distraction works. She doesn’t see Shawn when he comes down the escalator, but he sees them. He’s grinning ear to ear, backpack over his shoulder, suitcase beside him. He hustles around groups of passengers milling about, politely excusing himself, dodging, bobbing, weaving. Val has the pram and baby so she can’t do much about meeting him halfway. She has to wait for him to reach her.

Shawn’s brow unfurrows. He drops his hold on his suitcase and slings the backpack to his feet. He throws his arms around his girls and feels everything fall back into place.

“Jesus, I missed you guys,” Shawn whispers, voice thick and throaty. When he pulls away to cup Val’s cheeks, she’s never looked happier.

“We missed you, papi.”

Shawn’s kiss is firm but controlled. His lip ring tickles her as he smiles into it, humming peacefully. She nips at him to make him chuckle, vibrating her lips.

“God, ok,” he murmurs, pulling away, reaching for Alice, “Come here, you.”

Alice bounces in his arms, looking completely overjoyed to have her best friend back. She slaps at his lips and then lets him kiss her plump baby cheeks. He rocks her back and forth, tickles her sides to make her squirm and apparently to make Val’s heart explode in her chest because that’s what it’s doing.

Shawn has the baby in one arm and the suitcase in the other. Val pushes the pram toward the doors, wondering where they can get a cab.

As they stroll, she looks down and murmurs, “We’re gonna need a new pram.”

“I know, she’s gotten huge!” Shawn laughs, squeezing one of Alice’s beefy little legs. She kicks at him with a toothy smile.

“Well, yeah,” Val admits, “And we should probably get one of those big ones that has two seats.”

Shawn keeps walking beside her for about two seconds before he stops. Val turns slowly.

His eyes are wide. His mouth is open. Color rises into his cheeks. He tries to swallow and makes a choking noise.

“Are you-- I’m… Val?”

“I’m pregnant, papi.”

Shawn’s mouth snaps shut. His lower lip quivers. Val walks towards him, taking his hand.

“It’s really early. Just over six weeks. With my history, it’s a lot to be excited about so soon. But we have an appointment with my OB, the one that helped me with Alice. It’s next week.”

She’s sure none of that registered to Shawn. He’s still gaping at her, his eyes filling.

“We’re having a baby?”

Val lets her eyes drift shut. A million memories -- heat drenched, sweaty days on tour, ten years of growth, a chance meeting in her favorite park -- flicker past. She opens her eyes.

“We’re having a baby.”

Shawn hiccups a sob and jerks forward, slipping his fingers into her hair to anchor himself against her lips. Their kiss is a little wet from both their tears, and Alice isn’t keen to be left out of the loop, but this moment is all theirs. 

When they’re done kissing, Val rests her head against his chest and lets him just hold them. Beside the doors to the international arrivals terminal at Heathrow, they’re a long way from Warped Tour. The thought makes Val smile.

“What?” Shawn hums, wearing a goofy grin of his own. She lifts her head.

“Do they make those headphones even tinier?”

Shawn grins and kisses her again.

---------

You guys!!! Thank you for your awesome feedback on this fun little series. I’ve been thinking about it p much since I wrote the original epilogue and I feel great about the ending. If you loved it, consider buying me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @embracehappy @peacedolantwins2 @kitykatnumber

[infintyonhigh]

My thoughts about Everybody's Everything that nobody asked for

Ok so I'm gonna be honest y'all, the only reason I watched this is because Patrick did the score. Nothing against Peep but the only song of his I knew was I've Been Waiting and it's a dark subject, you know? I don't necessarily wanna go through that for an artist I only found out about posthumously.

But I did watch it and here's the thing. Because I didn't know any of his songs, at times it was legitimately hard to tell Patrick's score and Lil Peep's songs apart. That's the thing that amazes me about Patrick, the moment that really hit me why he's such a good producer. He really mimics other people's styles so well. The transitions were unbelievably seamless, just atmospheric enough that when they cut to concert scenes or mv clips you were like 'yeah, this is the vibe'!

The one criticism I have is much more about the documentary itself, but the score ends up getting the brunt of it. Patrick has these weirdly haunting songs he comes up with sometimes - that I desperately wish we heard more of - and at times they feel out of place. They're great but the movie set itself up to be way more artistically ambitious than it actually was. I get the sense that Patrick got that note as well, to really amp up the experimental quality of his writing, but the end result didn't reflect that as much.

Like they do this brilliant! thing where they have the grandfather reading his own letters to Peep peppered through the whole thing. Really early on they also mention Peep's admiration for his grandfather and how he was like a god to him. So to have the grandfather be the narrator of his movie... frankly, amazing, showstopping, never seen before. Totally something I'd expect out of a film produced by Terrance Malick.

But the rest of the documentary is pretty standard. They indulge in conspiracy theories way more than I'm comfortable with and very clearly take sides. That's just tasteless, man, especially talking about someone's death. I have no desire to dig into that, but lowkey felt like there was an agenda there which cheapens it a lot (and they also show images of the body. Just, ugh, a lot of bad decisions).

I wonder if the people who made this movie realize the irony of titling it this way, framing his need to please everyone as his demise, when even after his death they were still trying to get something out of his image

It's a shame they leave all of the poetic stuff to the grandfather because, while they do an efficient job at showing how creative Peep was, it could have been a thousand times more impactful if they kept that tone throughout the whole movie.

There's a scene at the end that I saw people complaining online because of the whole tonal dissonance thing. And I agree but! The grandfather gives the last word about Peep, and yeah it's rambly and feels out of place after the conspiracy theory thing, but damn. That dude is definitely a writer because boy he's got a way with words. In a lot of ways it reminded me of Pete's lyric's. He didn't talk about Peep, he described him as a feeling, like you talk about art you really love. 10/10, brought me to tears, best moment of the movie. And Patrick does something so genius during that scene. He leaves it silent for a long time, only as the scene starts to fade and you see the ocean and the blue sky, and you get this crescendo and this really expansive melody?? It's so beautiful. Patrick, and the grandad, and Peep! they all deserved a more challenging movie than this one

P.S.: The grandfather said something at the end that will stay wit me forever. He says Peep was in this world but not of this world. He wanted to go beyond the boundaries set by it. Straight to the heart. Again, a very Pete Wentz thing to say. Put that on a beat, take over for your grandson dude, seriously!

PPS: After watching it I think I understand why DCD2 is what it is now. It's undeniable that soundcloud rapping is the new punk rock. Old white dudes can whine all they want, but it's a diy, independent musical movement that strongly resonates with young people and, much like it's predecessors, encourages a certain level of self destruction for art. Honestly, props to Pete. He's got a good years on me still and he's so open minded, so attuned to new things. Meanwhile I was ready to dismiss it completely just because it's not pleasing to my ears. Goes to show that you always have to be vigilant to not become a grumpy old person :D

[shark-myths]

G.I.N.A.S.F.S.

this song. THIS SONG. an infinity-era song from 2007, Gay Is Not A Synonym for Shitty is a tangled-up mess of peteashleepatrick, guilt and longing and fallinginlove all worked over into knots and poetry.

in the tryst theory reckoning, i think this song is about loving patrick in a way that Isn’t Allowed, a reminiscence on when things were simple and they could just fool around in the van and never really talk about who they were or what it meant, as long as they could keep having it, and about pete’s own confused relationship to queerness (and his own sexual orientation) during this time.

so let’s dig in!

I've loved everything about you that hurts, so Let me see your moves Let me see your moves Lips pressed this close to mine True Blue

But the prince of any failing empire knows that Everybody wants, everybody wants To drive on through the night If it's a drive back home

this reads and plays like a break-up song right at the time when pete’s entering an exciting new relationship, an exciting time of his life where he’s moving out to LA, his band reaching previously unimagined heights of widespread commercial success, a million business endeavors with his name and face on them: this is the time of his life when pete wentz is finally Making Good, living up to his own potential, being a good boy and following the rules and making a serious bid at adulthood. at living happily ever after. at living at all. this is pete building a future for himself instead of looking for the nearest exit ramp for death. this is a time of new beginnings and hope and the rest of your life--so why is he writing a break-up song?

he’s writing it to himself, maybe. he’s writing it to jeanae. he’s writing it to patrick.

True Blue: not parlor trick magic. True Blue is code for Patrick. Patrick is who he wants to drive back home to. LA is not like chicago. and some princes don’t grow up to be kings.

Things aren't the same anymore Some nights, they get so bad You almost pick up the phone

(suggesting that whoever he’s singing about, he’s far away from now, and not reaching out to--even though their voice used to be a daily miracle)

Trade baby blues for wide eyed browns I sleep with your old shirts And walk through this house in your shoes You know it's strange It's a strange way of saying That I know I'm supposed to love you I'm supposed to love you

whose eyes is he singing about? the cover story--the plausible deniability--could be about swapping jeanae’s gaze for ashlee’s. but, and this won’t surprise you, i like the reading best if we’re talking about patrick. are ashlee’s eyes even blue? they’re a slate green type color--striking, sure, but they don’t scream baby blue. whereas patrick rocks these babies (below), which he described once on twitter as “blue with a little ring of yellow around the pupil so they look a little green.” are they baby blues? you decide. (maybe pete’s been singing to joe this whole time?? look at those fucking peepers!)

(aside--is pete talking about new partners with different eye colors, or imploring the listener to trade their blue eyes for his brown ones, to take his perspective and see it from his side? this song is full of clever twists)

this is one of the first times pete’s lived without patrick in years. not in the same apartment, not down the hall, not even on the same side of the continent. so he sleeps in patrick’s old shirts--there’s plenty of documentation of shirt-swapping in the early days of our boys--and walks through the house (probably in ashlee’s uggs, let’s be real, but patrick had quite the sneaker collection in 07 too, as seen on his apartment tour mtv feature) and thinks, I’m supposed to love you.

i love this line so much because it works on two amazing and painful levels. pete can be taken as saying:

I am obligated or meant to love you due to my promise / the expectations of others / the heterosexual label i tentatively offer as describing me, OR

you are the one I am fated to love. we are meant to be together like destiny

or, even more likely--he’s saying both.

I've already given up on myself twice Third time is the charm, third time is the charm Threw caution to the wind But, I've got a lousy arm

And I've traced your shadows on the wall Now I kiss them whenever I'm down Whenever I'm down Figured on not figuring myself out

WHAT ARE THE TWO TIMES PETE HAS GIVEN UP ON HIMSELF? it could be a straightforward reading--the Best Buy Incident and any other peak!depression moments. but i think pete has failed himself in subtle, important ways throughout his life. i wonder if pete is giving up on himself romantically. if he’s giving up on his ability to, as he says, figure himself out--understand his sexual orientation--ever be with patrick in the way he wants to be, because he can’t / won’t figure out how he wants to be. comp het and gendered body dysmorphia are strong in this one. the media has such a field day of making him gay, he’s tangled up in his own crossfire of hero--icon--punching bag. i imagine pete at this age like i spent the first 24 or so years of my life: repeating like a rosary, i wish i was gay, i wish i was gay, i wish i was gay. [girls] are so pretty, i like them so much. why can’t i just be gay so i can be with them?

but he’s got a lousy arm. he keeps trying to declare himself to patrick--we have albums worth of it, at this point, not to mention interviews and what happens onstage during this era--and he keeps falling short. his message gets lost, or worse, considered unworthy. ignored.

i’ve traced your shadows on the wall hearkens back to watching you two from the closet, doesn’t it? it’s all about imagining yourself with someone you can’t have and can’t even understand if you want. he spent so long obsessing over every bright line of patrick’s body, now he traces them from memory on the walls of his always-too-empty home, kisses patrick in his mind and doesn’t ask himself why, because he’s terrified of the answer. because he’s given up on the answer. because ashlee is the love of his life, he’s known it since he first met her, and he’s supposed to be with her. because he’s giving up on himself. because things aren’t the same anymore. he’s a different man in a different city living a different life.

Born under a bad sign, you saved my life That night on the roof of your hotel "Cross my heart and hope to die Splintered from the headboard in my eye" Photo-proofed kisses I remembered so well 

Pete’s a gemini, Patrick’s a taurus. either of those are bad signs, depending on who you ask. but the point of the line, i think, is the curse pete always thinks of himself / writes of himself as living under. this whole verse evokes curses and promises and love everlasting.

and: what is a photo-proofed kiss? it’s a hidden one. it’s a one they’ve made sure no one can ever see, or one that happens so VERY publicly they can deny it.

IN SUMMARY, this is a peterick af song. this is a song about pete grappling with his own relationship to the word gay and his frustrated confusion about his own sexuality. you can see his proposal to ashlee taking shape in it, clear as you can see his choking-thick unyielding love for the man he thinks he’s lost, thinks he’s never held at all. IN SUMMARY, oh god my feelings, oh god this song

[ridingbensolooooo]

Thanks for the tag @discordiavonsin it’s just what I needed to forget about stats for a little bit :) 

Put your music on shuffle and answer the questions about each artist.

Name of Artist:  Panic! At The Disco

What genre are they ? um honestly who actually knows at this point. 

How long have they been active ? since 2004 I believe

Have you ever heard them on the radio ? yeah high hopes still gets played every now and then around here 

Have they released any new music within the last year or two ? Yeah, Pray for the Wicked! Love that album to death, I’ve decided “Hey look ma I made it” is going to be my graduation song when I finish uni at the end of the year!! 

Do they have a male or female vocalist ? Male - Brendon Urie aka Beebop

Name of Artist: BTS

Would you recommend them ? Fuck yeah they’re my favourite band kids

What is your favourite lyric of theirs ? “The dawn right before the sun rises is darkest” I’m gonna get it tattooed when I save up enough money. I’ve wanted that as a tattoo for nearly 5 years now so I’m sure of my decision lmao just need money. 

What are their album artworks like ? Pretty but never over the top which is nice. The last few album sets have made a pattern if you buy all 4 versions and line them up which I have to saw I am a big fan of. 

If they stopped making music, would you be sad ? I would be absolutely devastated. They’re my favourite band! They said in an awards acceptance speech not too long ago that they were considering disbanding at the start of last year and I honest to god burst into tears right then and there. I’d be crushed. 

If you didn’t know what they look like, based off their music, what you guess they looked like ? I’d just have a stereotypical picture of pretty idol boys in mind. Which isn’t far off tbh but they’re so much more than that too. 

Name of Artist: Twenty One Pilots

How popular are they ? Depends on who you ask. They’ve had some very popular songs but people seem to forget about them when they’re not releasing new stuff? 

Have you ever seen them perform live ? I’ve seen them twice actually! Which is surprising, because I live in Australia and not a lot of bands make the trip here very often, so I’m very glad I’ve got to see them as many times as I have. They have an incredible energy when live, Tyler commands the space and Josh is fucking awesome on drums irl too.  

How did you find out about them ? I heard about them ages before I actually got into them, back in 2013 when my friend showed me this cover he was super obsessed with, and it was top’s cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love. 

What is their sexuality, if known ? They’re both in relationships with women so I’ll say straight but who knows really. 

Is their music easy to dance to ? Most of it is! They’ve got some really good beats in most of their songs, but also some of them are very slow and you just want to feel the music, not really dance. 

Name of Artist: GOT7

What instrument is the most prominent in their music ? Umm they’re a kpop band so computer?? Idk how pop music is made. 

Does your family listen to them ? Not at all, I’m the only one in my family who listens to kpop. They only listen when I make them lmao. 

Are they still making music today ? Yes! They’re coming to Australia to promote their new album which is fucking awesome because kpop bands barely EVER come here. Like I thought American and British artists didn’t come here often, but it seems like they’re here every 2 weeks compared to kpop artists TT.TT

Would you want to meet them ? I would love to! I’ve been learning korean but I’m not very good, but they have 3 members who speak fluent english so I’m sure we could manage a chat

How represented is this artist in your saved music / collection ? All of their albums are spread over like 4 or 5 playlists lmao 

Name of Artist: My Chemical Romance

When did you discover them ? I was very young, my mum is super into them and she used to play the black parade album all the time when I was a kid. I literally can’t remember when I heard them for the first time lmao. 

How many albums do they have ? 4 :( 

Which member of the band is closest to your ‘type’ / do you find the most attractive ? Frank Iero could punch me in the face and I’d thank him and tell him his tattoos look really nice that close. 

Have they gone through any line-up changes ? Um, fuck Bob. Enough said. 

Is their music more fun or serious ? The first 3 albums of theirs were very angsty and serious and like rock opera-y but Danger Days has very different vibes. More like, let’s make fun of how shit the world can be instead of wallowing in a pit of despair. 

Name of Artist: Fall Out Boy

Is the type of music / genre they play something you would typically enjoy or is their sound different for you ? Yeah man, I’ve never left my emo phase and I love their sound even as it continues to evolve. 

Based off of their sound, what would a human version of their music look like ? Hmm, depends which era you’re talking about. Early fob is emo Pete Wentz at his peak, but now their sound sort of reminds me of this instagram model I like, Vanja Jagnic.

Could you see yourself getting along with the members personally ? I feel like I would get along with them all very easily! I have it on good authority I’m a nice person, so hopefully that would carry through. 

Did somebody recommend this band to you ? Does my mum count? She likes fall out boy too and used to play them when I was younger as well, so I guess she recommended them to me in a way. 

Name of Artist: BLACKPINK

How many people are in this band/group ? 4 

When did they start making music ? 2016, I didn’t realise it’s been so long already! 

Do they have any well known songs, if so, which one(s) ? Umm not sure in western countries, maybe Jennie’s solo song? They’re pretty popular in Korea though. 

Do you listen to this artist regularly ? My housemate is obsessed with them so yeah I do listen quite a bit. 

How would you describe their music ? Pretty typical of kpop, they’re way more “edgy” than most girl groups though which I like. I’m not a fan of the cute/sexy/infant vibe that a lot of other girl groups have going on. 

Name of Artist:  Seventeen 

If they use a stage name, what is their real name(s) ? Wow this is really the wrong band for this. Okay so, S.Coups is Seungcheol, Jeonghan goes by Jeonghan, Joshua has a korean name but Joshua is his birth name so idk if it counts (it’s Jisoo though), Jun is Junhwi, Hoshi is Soonyoung, Wonwoo is Wonwoo so that’s easy, Woozi is Jihoon, DK is Seokmin, Mingyu is just Mingyu, The8 is Minghao, Seungkwan is Seungkwan although people do call him MC Boo (not sure that counts as a stage name), Vernon also has a korean name but Vernon is his birth name (Hansol is the korean name though) and Dino is Chan. Phew.

Do they regularly make pop charts ? They do in korea! They’re mid range popular, but they’re steadily getting more popular each year. 

Have you ever met them ? No, I wish lmao.

If they toured in your city, would you go see them ? I would! They did come to Australia, but I’m broke and couldn’t afford to go all the way to Melbourne to see them. 

Name of Artist: Red Velvet

Are they known for anything else besides music? Not really sure, maybe being from one of the big 3 companies in Korea? 

What is their nationality ? Korean! 

Are they a guilty pleasure ? A bit yeah lmao, I don’t listen to all of their stuff because a lot of it is not my taste at all, but the songs of theirs I do listen to fall into the category of annoyingly catchy. 

Which age group is this artist most popular with? My age and a bit younger I would say.

Has this artist ever toured in your country/state/city? Nah, SM artists don’t come here. 

Name of Artist: Falling in Reverse

Do you think it’s necessary or important to know about their personal life to ‘understand’ their music ? I feel like some of their songs are directly related to things that have happened in Ronnie’s life, so yeah to a certain extent, but a lot of the time you can get it from the vibe of the song. 

Have they ever gone on hiatus and did they return ? I’m not sure actually, I don’t follow them that closely. 

What instruments do they use ? Guitar, drums, bass, vocals, synth/keys.

What city are they from ? Las Vegas

What are your experiences with fans of this artist? I don’t really know anyone who has them as their favourite band so I’m not really sure what die hard fans are like, but everyone I know who is a causal fan seems super chill. 

I don’t really have that many people to tag lmao so I’ll just tag people in my activity recently @samanddean-winchesthair @unfade @blue-roses-and-red-rubbies @classylaughs have fun if y’all decide to do this! 

[emo-fanfics-uwu]

young volcanoes

pete wentz x reader

⚠️ warnings: cursing, angst (it works out well in the end uwu), literally one non detailed kiss, and yeah mostly angst. love you all!!

today was the day. you were going to end things with pete. it’s not like you wanted to but you felt like you had to. you weren’t good enough for him. pete was telling you how amazing you are and what a beautiful person you are inside and out, but you don’t believe him. 

he’s famous, he’s an amazing guitar player, he has everything going for him. you? you’re a youtuber. sure, you make a living and you’re somewhat famous,  but where’s that going to get you in life? 

you were sitting on the couch bouncing your leg up and down trying to figure out how to tell pete. how to end your three year relationship, how to move out of your apartment, how to isolate yourself from hurting him, how you still love him.

your thoughts were broken when you heard the front door open, then a few seconds later close. you would’ve made a shitty i write sins pun, but you were too caught up in everything happening.

tap.

just tell him how you feel.

tap.

he wouldn’t care if you were gone.

tap.

he’s better off without you.

tap.

you’re gonna hurt him-

“hey lovely,” pete’s voice rang through your head. he seemed so distant even though he was right next to you. he walked over and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“are you okay? you seem tense.” you looked up at him. those eyes. he was worried. he looked scared.

“y/n,,,did--did something happen?” you couldn’t do it. yes you can. he’s worried about you. no he isn’t. this would break him. you’re hurting him. he needs you. just do it, he doesn’t care. you matter to him. you’re worthless compared to him.

you’re head was spinning and you suddenly screamed, “i want to break up!” pete looked terrified,,,like he was about to cry. he looked more broken than you do about this. you stared at your knees as his first tear fell and whispered, “i want to break up.”

“w-what did i do? i’m sorry. i knew i wasn’t good enough, i-i just knew it. i’m sorry. please, please don’t leave. please-”

“i’m not good enough.”

pete’s eyes widened when you said this. how could you ever think that about yourself?

"you're kidding," pete was about to hit the point where tears were building up.

"i'm not pete! you--you don't understand how hard it is to live with someone like you. you're fucking famous, and you have such amazing friends, and you're so much better than i am. i'm gonna drag you down and hurt you."

pete was silent. that's all you heard. you looked up and he was sobbing. you had never seen him this hurt before besides high school.

"pete,,,no pete. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry i didn't mean it like that." you stood up and hesitantly touched his shoulder. you didn't know if you should hug him or give him space so you would let him decide.

"okay y/n. if you mean that," he took a breath, "look at me and tell me."

"w-what?"

"make it easy--"

"pete," you dropped your hand down to your side. you were scared. scared because now you knew you didn't need this.

"--say i never mattered."

you looked at him, his eyes still overflowing with tears. you snapped at the rubber band on your wrist.

"you," you swallowed the lump in your throat, "you never--"

your eyes started to get glossy and you tried to hold it in. you had to stay strong because this is what's best for him,,,right?

"you never ma--" you broke. so much for keeping strong.

"i'm sorry," you whispered. pete pulled you toward his chest and ran his hand theough your hair. you were both the same height so it was comfortable.

"there's nothing to be sorry for."

you looked back at him and he was smiling at you. "you're kidding? i almost just left, almost told you that you never mattered even though you mean everything to me," you rambled and kept going on and on until pete kissed your lips to get you to stop.

by now you both had small sniffles and glossy eyes. yours were both bloodshot.

"i love you n/n. and don't ever think different. i love you so much. and you're perfect."

you smiled as he laid down on the couch pulled you into him. the next hours were spent cuddling, watching horror movies, and occasionally kissing.

he loves you, and you love him. everything will be okay, because you matter,,,a whole lot to him especially.

wow it's late but i wanted to get this out there. requests are always open as usual for anything and everything. please request cause i honestly love reading them (:

remember that you matter no matter what's happened. the past is the past, people change, and everything is gonna work out. talk to me if you need to, i understand♥️

stay alive |-/

XOcourt

[earlgreytea68]

It’s my FOBiversary!

A year ago tonight I started reading this Regency AU about people I didn’t know. I stayed up all night. And then a year ago tomorrow I woke up and thought to myself, Who the hell is Pete Wentz? And then I found out. 

And if you’re wondering how I’ve spent my past year, it’s been learning this: 

That:

Once upon a time. 

Once upon a time there was a boy named Pete. He was supposed to be a lawyer. What he wanted to be was in a band. He wanted to stage-dive into crowds of people. He wanted to scream into microphones for attention, and to have the audience scream back at him. 

He wasn’t especially good at music himself. (What he was good at was soccer. Really good at it, as Patrick Stump will tell you. All-State in Illinois.) 

But what Pete was also very good at was two things that turned out to be super important to his future: emo LJ poetry, and Making Things Happen when they needed to happen (even if that made him the asshole). 

Pete was in a band that was touring and stuff but he was kind of getting bored. He knew this kid Joe who said, “Hey, let’s try a pop punk thing for fun,” and Pete was like, “Ha, that sounds hilarious, let’s do it.” (Pete was once part of a band where the members were only allowed to perform using instruments they didn’t know how to play. Pete had a history of bands-for-jokes.) 

At the same time: 

Once upon a time there was a boy named Patrick. He was super-good at music, had written it in his head for as long as he could remember, sang so well naturally that it literally didn’t occur to him that singing wasn’t something everyone could do. He was so good at music that he could be lazy about it, that he took up drumming because it was so easy for him that he didn’t have to put much effort into it. 

But by the old age of seventeen he was also super-disgusted with everyone around him for failing to take him seriously, when he was *really good at music.* Just because he was a *drummer* didn’t mean he didn’t write *awesome music,* ugh, it’s really rough to be sulky teenage Patrick Stump, let me tell you. (It’s also rough to be stubborn, control-freak Patrick Stump later on, and Patrick-Stump-who-has-such-a-beautiful-voice-why-doesn’t-anyone-respect-me-as-a-MUSICIAN-goddammit. Patrick’s a sweetheart but he’s also got the kind of effortless affinity for things that makes you very impatient at how long it’s taking everyone else to WAKE UP ALREADY.)

Anyway. One day, the drummer boy Patrick was working at a Borders and interrupted a conversation he heard two boys having about the band Neurosis. Because that’s the kind of pretentious music geek our boy Patrick is. One of the boys happened to Joe, who was about to change Patrick’s life and Pete’s life and his own life by somehow stumbling upon Pete Wentz’s creative soulmate in a Borders bookstore. But how was anyone to know that at the time? Joe just thought, “Wow, look at this kid who’s pretentious about music, I bet he’d get along with Pete.” So Joe said to Patrick, “Hey, do you know Pete Wentz? I’m starting a band with him and we need more people.” 

Patrick knew of Pete Wentz. Pete was in real bands. Bands that toured. Pete would be an excellent person to know in this scene Patrick wanted to get more into, instead of just know of. So Patrick was like, “Whatever you need for your band, I can definitely do it.”  

Joe called up Pete. Joe said, “Hey, you know that pop punk thing we’re going to do?” 

Pete said, “Oh, yeah, that joke band?” 

Joe said, “I met this kid Patrick, he could be a drummer or, I don’t know, anything. Here’s his MySpace.” 

At this point it’s unclear exactly what happened, although it seems to be that Joe and/or Pete definitely approached the meeting of Patrick with the idea that he was definitely not going to be the band’s drummer.  

They go to Patrick’s house. We know exactly what Patrick was wearing because Pete tells us: He wore shorts, knee socks, and an argyle sweater. Pete thought this kid and his outfit were kind of amazing. Patrick, when he tells this story, say that his first impression of Pete was he thought he would be taller. 

Patrick, apparently, sang. According to some accounts, he sang Through Being Cool. Pete said, “Yo, we’re going to make you our singer,” and Patrick was like, “But...I don’t really sing,” and Pete was like, “You definitely sing,” and Patrick was like, “I guess, man, whatever, can the band play my music?” because that’s really what Patrick wanted at that point, and Pete was like, “Sure.” 

It was a joke band. Pete had a serious band. It would have been ridiculous for Pete to leave his band for this pop punk thing with a couple of kids. In fact, Patrick actually held songs back, kept them in his pocket, assuming the band wasn’t going to work out and he would need them for when he struck out on his own. He was building connections, he was using Pete Wentz for everyone he knew, he was hiding his favorite songs and riding this whole thing out. 

But the thing about Pete Wentz: He’s smart. Always smarter than he acts. Joe in a Borders had stumbled across a one-in-a-million find, a kid with a once-in-a-lifetime voice, a huge reserve of natural talent, someone who was preternaturally good at music to make up for Pete’s lack of that. Pete looked at this kid and thought, He’s a golden ticket, and held on tight, and never really let go. 

Patrick was a restless kid, with one foot half out the door. When he tried to quit the band, Pete said “NO, NO, THIS IS THE SERIOUS BAND NOW. I AM DEDICATING MYSELF TO THIS BAND.”  

And he did. 

He broke up with his other band and he devoted himself to Fall Out Boy. (In fact, Pete’s the one who originally registered their trademark, charmingly listing his AOL email as the band’s contact info. Letting one person in the band trademark the name is exactly what a lawyer would never want you to do, but, because Pete’s a good guy, he transferred the mark over to the band’s corporation once they were big enough to incorporate.)

And Pete said to himself, “We are getting ourselves a record deal, now that I have dedicated myself to this band.” This is how Pete is: If someone needs to make something get done, it’s Pete who does it, and if he has to be an asshole to do it, then so be it. Patrick, in the later years, will give interviews constantly defending Pete, marveling at the impression people have of him, begging people to understand that he’s a nice guy who’s a great friend (Patrick, of course, is Pete’s favorite, and the beneficiary of most of Pete’s single-minded get-it-done-ness, so he’s possibly somewhat biased). 

So the band makes a demo. Pete goes to the guy who will eventually produce their first album and says, “Hey, I’ve got this, like, joke band, can you listen to it?” The producer was like, "Who's the singer?" And Pete was like, "Patrick. I think he said you recorded one of his former bands." Which was true. So the producer was like, "Patrick, the drummer kid?" and promptly never listened to the demo, because he was like, "Pete has lost his mind" and moved on. 

And then eventually when he finally heard Patrick sing he was like, ......oh.

The producer is recording this other band, and this other band was, like, the first band in this particular Chicago scene who had made it this far. So this band has this deal and the producer is super stressed out about it because it's his first kind of chance to prove himself to a major label and the band, it turns out, is terrible with vocal harmony, like, just awful, and the producer is like, “What the fuck is this, we can't give the label this.” 

So he tells the band they need to go out and find someone to do harmonies for them, and the band starts asking around, and hey, wouldn't you know it, a rumor had begun that you know who's aces at vocal harmony? That kid Patrick. (I BET I KNOW WHO STARTED THAT RUMOR.) So the band says to the producer, "We're getting Patrick to come do the harmonies" and the producer is like, "WHAT IS WITH EVERYONE AND THIS KID PATRICK ALL OF A SUDDEN.”

So Patrick comes in to the studio, and literally he is a child in high school. The producer remembered him as a fourteen-year-old, but he’s still only seventeen now. He had to keep calling his mom to extend his curfew. So Patrick comes in and they're all ordering lunch, so they ask Patrick what he wants and Patrick is like, "no, no, I don't want to eat anything before I sing," and the producer is like, "look at this pretentious kid.” So he's like, "okay, whatever, go record some stuff.” 

And then Patrick starts singing. 

And the producer is like, WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN HAPPENING. 

And keeps Patrick in the recording booth for like thirteen hours or something, with no food, with Patrick periodically calling his mom to be like, “Nope, still recording.” 

So then the producer went back and listened to Pete's demos.

You see, it was a slow gradual shift from joke band to “hang on, maybe something is going to come of this.” For everyone but Pete, who seems to have never doubted and always been all-in. 

It starts with Take This to Your Grave. 

No, it starts with Evening Out with Your Girlfriend, but Patrick is cranky about that one. 

So it starts with Take This to Your Grave. They record fast and cheap, because they have no other option. Pete is hiding from his parents because he’s supposed to be in school. Patrick writes the songs and Pete nitpicks the lyrics so intensely that they have vicious fights about it and sometimes the rest of the band isn’t sure the album’s going to get made. Patrick is so annoyed at Pete’s rewrites that he has a sudden revelation: “Wow. I must really want to be in this band.” Even for Patrick, it has gradually gone from an opportunistic joke to a real possibility for a future. Patrick struggles to write lyrics with Pete, but eventually becomes so exhausted by Pete’s dedication to his particular ~~visions that he’s like, “OH MY GOD, IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE SO PICKY, YOU COULD JUST WRITE THE LYRICS AND I’LL WRITE THE SONGS AROUND THEM,” and Pete’s like, “Oh, cool, let me go get you all of my emo LJ entries we can use,” and so that’s how that arrangement starts: Pete feeds stream-of-consciousness poetry and Patrick makes music out of it. 

The first song they write together successfully is “Saturday.” It’s the first song they don’t have a knock-down, drag-out fight over (and Patrick is not shy about throwing a punch at Pete at times). And it’s a song explicitly about them. The lyric reads “Pete and I attacked the Lost Astoria,” but Pete claims he wrote it with Patrick’s name and it was switched up for Patrick to sing. “Me and Pete,” Patrick sings at the end. And it’s this song -- this first song of successful collaboration, this song that’s all about them -- that they still play at the end of every concert. (In the video, Patrick plays a detective chasing down Pete’s charming serial killer whose calling card is the Queen of Hearts, until the plot twist where they’re actually the same person.)

The buzz around their joke band is building. Their shows start turning into near-riots (because Patrick is just that good when he sings). Pete stage-dives into crowds and lets audiences shout lyrics at him. Where is your boy tonight? Boys like you are overrated. Two more weeks. They fantasize about playing bigger venues, not Wrigley or anything, because who would aim for that, but just shows where they’re getting paid in more than pizza. Pete is beating down the door at indie labels, with a strategy of landing them a small deal to build a fanbase before springing up to a major record label. He tours the band with exhausted determination, in a broken-down van. At one point, Patrick has to break the news to his family that he’s going to delay college because he’s got this band he’s in. They’re like, “What do you do in this band?” He’s like, “Oh, I’m the singer,” and his family is like, “...You sing?” 

Because Patrick’s a singer because Pete saw it in him, Pete wanted him to be. Patrick sings Pete’s words; Pete sings through Patrick. 

The producer finishes up Take This to Your Grave while they’re on tour. When they get back, Patrick is pleased with it. He’s the kind of perfectionist who spends all night on thirty seconds of feedback at the end of a song, but the producer knows what he was going for and Patrick’s happy. 

Pete wants his screaming to be louder, so he goes back into the studio to re-record his screams. 

Pete’s plan eventually works perfectly. They start small. They build a following. They land a major record label. 

Pete Wentz suddenly finds himself, with his joke band, staring directly at the future he dreamed of. 

And it drives him into a panic. He engineered their strategy. He held them together. He bought Patrick a hat when he worried about not wanting to see the audience while he sang, and he promised to be the frontman, the on-stage presence, the complement to Patrick’s musical talent. Together, he and Patrick are two halves of one perfect rock star.  

And Pete Wentz is panicking. 

(TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE)

The band keeps scrapping songs and writing new ones, unable to get exactly what they want. Pete, terrified of letting his band down, plummeting into a depressive episode of his bipolar disorder, isolates himself, handing lyrics over and then going back into hiding. Overwhelmed, he takes too much Ativan in a Best Buy parking lot. He says later he wasn’t trying to kill himself, just shut his brain up for a little while. (He talks often about needing a creative outlet; he writes often about his brain being a noisy place.) He says later that he remembers Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah” on the radio. He says later that he felt exhausted by the act of being Pete Wentz, that he was so much Pete Wentz for everyone that he forgot to be it for himself. 

A phone call to his manager saves him. He doesn’t die in that Best Buy parking lot. He spends a week in the hospital before moving back in with his parents. His band goes to Europe without him, struggles through shows without their epicenter. 

The suicide attempt is a discernible thread through Pete’s lyrics through the years. Also discernible, it seems, is a promise made to Patrick: not to do it again. 

~~~~~~~~~

The band regroups. The band writes a number of songs in a frantic two-week session, including “Sugar, We’re Goin Down,” which Patrick claims later to write in ten minutes, fooling around, and then says to the band, “I just paid for our kids to go to college with this song.” The album’s producer agrees. He signs on after hearing their demos of “Sugar” and “Dance, Dance,” two songs he predicts will be smash hits.

They are. Only after Pete once again goes to bat for the vision he wants, because the record label hates the refrain of “Sugar,” calling it too wordy. Pete wins, in basically every way he could win. 

His joke band’s a big deal now. His joke band gets nominated for a Grammy. Patrick, at the Grammy ceremony, realizes, “Huh. I...think I’m a singer now. I should probably take this seriously and, like, get lessons or something.” (This is, incidentally, why he’s so difficult to understand, as it was a while before he learned proper enunciation. In the beginning, he sometimes wrote songs out of his vocal range by accident.) 

They tour. They write. They promote. Pete keeps up a steam of Q&A’s at their fan website, patiently giving advice on relationship break-ups and losing loved ones, and talking about how hot Patrick is whenever he gets a chance. 

He makes up a string of nicknames for Patrick, then tells the fans they’re not allowed to use them, only Pete can use them. 

(Patrick says later he has no nicknames, but Pete, as ever, makes his own reality.) 

He says that he makes Patrick sing his favorite songs to him whenever he wants.

He says that Patrick is so perfect he basically dreamed him up. 

He says that he always wants to be wherever Patrick is. 

Patrick is his true blue.

Pete is always the source of Patrick’s loudest applause. Pete would take a bullet for him. “Patrick is the only reason anyone will ever listen to this band,” says Pete. 

“Pete’s lyrics are ninety percent of the reason anyone listens to Fall Out Boy,” says Patrick. 

They’re like that, these two. 

They descend into what the New York Times at one point refers to as their “creative exclusivity.” They talk of never having a friendship ever before like the one they share. They reference cryptophasia in how they communicate. Their long-suffering bandmate Joe suggests they should just get married already, and they respond, “We are.” 

Pete teases Patrick about wanting to do him, whispers in his ear at concerts, leans on him or curls close, kisses him on the cheek. 

And always, they finish with Saturday. 

They write Infinity on High quickly and easily and it’s a huge hit, but in the meantime Pete’s gone down in infamy with one of the first viral dick pic leaks and Patrick’s had to talk him out of quitting the band, the same way Pete did for him years earlier. Patrick goes into protective mode, defending Pete far and wide to anyone who will listen. Patrick gives interviews where he says he wishes people understood who Pete is, how he’s loyal to a fault, how he’s Patrick’s best friend. “What do you wish people knew about Fall Out Boy?” people ask him. “What do you wish people would ask you?” “How great Pete is,” Patrick says. 

But, you see. 

Patrick is tired. 

They’ve been touring non-stop for years now. Patrick skipped college in favor of Fall Out Boy. Patrick has grown up on-stage next to Pete. And Pete’s five years older, but Patrick’s been supervising him all this time. Pete’s the sort who thinks it’s a good idea to jump off a roof holding a patio umbrella. Pete once took to throwing bowling balls overhand around a luxury hotel suite they were in. Patrick has perfected the rolling of his eyes and the careful, nonjudgmental removal of himself from the more questionable situations. When Pete, convinced he would die at the age of 27, turned 28, it was Patrick who received the calls of congratulations for having gotten Pete through. 

And Patrick is tired. 

And Pete is in a whirligig of fame. Patrick’s best friend is still shorter than he thought he would be, is still a good person to know, is still loyal and smart, is still a poet who sends Patrick lyrics for him to mine, picking together pieces from here and there, archeology of Pete’s soul. Patrick will say later that what he does is write the score for Pete’s life. 

Pete is still his best friend. It’s just that Patrick’s best friend is now also very famous. They’re a big-deal band, and Pete is far more than the bassist. Pete is the showman; Pete is the onstage banter; Pete, Patrick will say, is the singer, he just sings through Patrick.  

When Pete gets married, Patrick’s the best man, just as Pete will later be Patrick’s. But when Pete gets married, the wedding photos are on the cover of People Weekly. 

Writing the album that will come to be Folie a Deux is a struggle. They fight more than they have in years. Patrick spends most of his time in the studio. Pete waltzes in and out, criticizing what Patrick’s doing. Once, they get into a physical fight over chord progressions. After phone conversations with Pete, Patrick throws things around the studio. Pete has descended into a haze of prescription pills, because Hollywood doctors will give you anything, and, hey, if a doctor handed them to you, it must be okay, right?  

Patrick remembers touring for Folie as being a disaster. This is possibly for reasons other than the tour itself, because the rest of the band seems to disagree. At any rate, it is Patrick who asks for a break. Patrick says they need to take a breath or they’ll end up hating each other. Pete doesn’t seem to take this very well. 

They release “What a Catch, Donnie,” a rare ballad that ends with a medley of their greatest hits. In the video, a lonely Patrick collects the detritus of Fall Out Boy’s success. He gets a happy ending, joined in the end by the rest of the band and all of their friends. Notably absent is Pete, who puts himself on a sinking ship and leaves everyone else partying joyfully without him. 

The hiatus begins.  

Pete says it feels permanent. 

Patrick embarks on what at first seems like a fun passion side project, and then increasingly gets more pressure put on it as the hiatus drags on and Pete says he can’t imagine ever playing for Fall Out Boy ever again, can’t imagine the band ever getting back together. Patrick is still writing songs for Fall Out Boy that he tucks away for “someday,” says he would still take a bullet for Pete Wentz, but it feels increasingly like maybe he’s a solo artist now. 

Pete starts another band and finds himself a female lead singer, because, he says, he can’t replace Patrick. But they feel increasingly separate. Fall Out Boy feels increasingly in the past. Patrick tours on his solo material without his trademark hats. He bleaches his ginger hair blonde and sticks devil horns on his head. If once he had Pete for the showmanship side of rock-stardom, Patrick steps forward to be the whole thing now. 

But the thing is. The thing is that one day Patrick posts an angry, frustrated, lonely, unhappy blog entry. Oversharing on the internet: used to be a Pete Wentz thing, becomes a Patrick Stump thing. But Pete Wentz knows what that kind of oversharing means. 

Pete reads the entry. Pete considers his friend, furious at being a has-been at 27. Pete paces. Pete thinks about how tough it is to call your ex after a bad breakup. But Pete does it. The reunion sex might be great, after all. 

Pete says to Patrick, “You need your band.” He says, “We built each other’s houses and you don’t even know my kid.” He says, “I need a creative outlet, can we try writing?” 

He says Patrick agrees not because he wants to, but because he’s a nice guy. 

But Patrick’s got Fall Out Boy songs tucked in a drawer somewhere. Patrick always wanted a pause, not a full stop. 

They write. 

They get nowhere the first session, but they write. 

They write well enough to try it again, and then they write “Where Did the Party Go?” 

And then they write. 

They get the band back together. It takes Patrick six hours on the phone with Joe, Joe with his successful new projects and his butting up against Patrick’s stubborn control over the music, but Patrick makes promises and they get the band back together. 

“I wouldn’t hold my breath for a Fall Out Boy reunion,” Pete tells the press. 

The next day, there’s a Fall Out Boy reunion. There’s a new single, recycling a lyrical line Pete first wrote years earlier and that they liked enough to revive. There’s a new album, and on it is a song written by Patrick during the hiatus, about hot whiskey eyes. I miss you missing me, Pete wrote in a poem during the Folie era of their lives. I miss missing you, writes Patrick. 

They tour. Not the tour of small venues they thought they would have because no one would care, even though that very first show people waited hours outside in the Chicago cold and the crowd was so loud Patrick could barely hear himself. No, they shift to arenas. Patrick has to find a way to sing live songs he thought they’d never tour on because no one would ever want to hear them. 

They write another album, fast and easy like the old days. It’s history repeating but they get to do it right. They write songs with lyrics that say And in the end, I’d do it all again. And I think you’re my best friend. And I’m yours. 

For the third album of their second chance, Pete writes, I’ve lived so much life God is gonna have to kill me twice. A far cry from the lyrics from the first album of their first chance: I read about the afterlife but I never really lived more than an hour.

They perform. Sometimes Pete still stage-dives. Always the crowd shouts his words at him. Always Patrick makes those words beautiful. 

Always they end with me and Pete, in the wake of Saturday. 

So. 

That’s what I’ve been doing. 

[iwillphysicallyfiteyou]

Badass Boys - Chapter Fifteen

First, Previous, and Next.

Masterlist/Outfits

Series Description: Virgil has always been known as a bad boy, Logan very recently has been considered a bad boy. However, no one knows that these two bad boys are gay.

Chapter Description: Virgil and Logan go on their first date.

Pairings: Analogical (Side Royality)

CW: Mention of abuse, mention of money and hospitals, mentions of throwing up, kissing, and a bit smutty (nothing explicit).

The last couple of days have been painful for both Logan and Virgil. Even though it’s his eighteenth birthday Virgil still refused to go to a hospital because of the inevitable hospital bill.

“Look, it doesn’t hurt that much anymore, and most of the bruises are gone. Why don’t we go to the amusement park, you know, finally have our first date,” Virgil said through the phone.

“I’d like that. When should we go?”

“ASAP.”

Logan chuckled before saying,” alright, I’ll be at your house in twenty.”

They said their goodbyes before Virgil went to his closet. He changed into a plain black long-sleeved button-up shirt and black jeans. He attempted to tame his curls by putting some product in it, but they were still crazy and slightly frizzy. 

He put on his favorite black combat boots and stared at the container on top of his drawer. Inside the container, he had the necessities: a comb, lube, a pen, an expired condom (he made a mental note to throw that away later), chapstick, and of course, a lone black pencil eyeliner.

Logan seemed to like the smart and casual type of men, however, Virgil did realize that the only guy he knew that Logan liked was him so he probably had nothing to worry about.

Probably.

He took a deep breath and put the eyeliner on Pete Wentz style. He looked in the mirror and admired how he looked. Well, not exactly admired, more like making an attempt to point out every flaw that his face holds. His pasty white skin matched the aesthetic he was going for, so he guesses that wasn’t exactly a fault. He has a scar where his eyebrow piercing used to be, which he hates. His lips are chapped, so he quickly applied some chapstick. His brown eyes are boring and dull, unlike Logan’s beautiful and complex hazel eyes. He decided to back away from the mirror.

He picked up his phone to see that he got a good morning text from Roman, which meant he just woke up. Virgil quick sent Roman a text jokingly making fun of him for waking up at 11 instead of 7, then he went downstairs.

“Virgil, why are you so dressed up, and why are you back to that makeup? God, do you wanna look like a girl or something?”

“No Mom, I don’t want to look like a girl. I have a date- um yeah at the amusement park.” Virgil stopped himself before mentioning Logan since he knew how his mom felt about homosexuality, and he’d rather not show up to the date with a black eye thank you very much.

“With who?”

“Look, nothing’s official yet so I’m not saying names until we’re at least on the third date.”

“It’s a girl, right?”

“Mom.”

“I know, I know. You know, Reid thinks being gay is normal or whatever. I don’t understand it but if my two boys think it’s okay then I won’t break anyone’s nose over it. I’m still going to be disappointed though.”

“You’re always disappointed.” She frowned at that. “I have twenty minutes until my date gets here.”

“Clean. Read a book. Call Valerie, whatever you want.”

“Alright,” Virgil said before running back upstairs. He texted Patton about what his mom said.

‘Can you believe her? As if punching someone just because they’re gay would be okay even if Reid and I didn’t think it’s okay. And the disappointed part? Like bitch????’ Virgil texted before realizing that if Roman just woke up then most likely Patton’s driving to Roman’s house, so he won’t get a text back for a while.

He picked up the book Carry On by Rainbow Rowell and read that for the next twenty minutes.

Virgil’s phone beeped.

‘I’m here, and I don’t want to knock on the door because your mom’s glaring at me.’

Virgil shoved his phone and wallet into his pocket before sprinted to the front door and his mom grabbed his arm.

“Logan? Are you kidding me?” She asked.

“He’s just my ride there, calm down,” Virgil lied.

His mom sighed before saying, “alright, have fun.”

“I will.”

Virgil’s attempting to walk casual ( which he sure that he failed horribly at) to Logan’s car is awkward and weird, but he took a deep breath and thought, ��that’s all part of the human, being embarrassed once in a while is normal. Wow, my therapist would be so impressed by that.’ 

However, Logan didn’t even notice. He’s too focused on how cute Virgil looks in all black and makeup.

Virgil sat in the car and greeted Logan.

“I really like your outfit and makeup,” Logan said.

Virgil tried to hide his growing blush by looking away while saying, “Thanks.”

Even though he wanted to hide his face from Logan, he couldn’t help but sneak looks at him. He’s wearing a pair of orangish-red jeans with a green flannel. He looks so hot. 

“I like your outfit,” Virgil complimented.

After a couple minutes of small talk, Virgil got a call.

“One second, Patton’s calling me,” Virgil said, “hello.”

“Sorry, I’m driving-,” Patton gasped, “a dog! Anyways, if you hear cars honking and stuff, that’s why. I am so upset over your mom, God, I wish she could just accept that people are different.”

“Yeah, she’s... difficult.”

“Yeah and the- wait, are you in a car too?”

“Yeah, Logan and I are going to the amusement park.” Logan smiled over at Virgil before looking back at the road.

Patton gasped before saying, “like a date.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my puppies, I ship it so much.”

“For some reason, I’m not surprised.”

Patton giggles before saying, “I can’t help that I love love. Okay well, I should probably let you go, have fun!” 

Virgil put his phone back in his pocket.

“Happy eighteenth.”

“Thanks, when are you turning eighteen?”

“June 27th.”

“That’s coming up. So you’re going to be seventeen when you graduate.”

“Yup. I’m the youngest in the class.”

“You’re practically a baby.”

“Oh hush, you’re such a grandfather.”

Logan shook his head with a gentle smile on his face. 

*

“We’re here.”

They got out of the car and looked at some of the rides. 

“Can we agree to not go on the roller coaster?” Logan asked.

“I’ve never felt more relieved.”

Logan bought some tickets since Logan refused to let Virgil pay. 

“Which ride should we go on first?”

“What about the Scrambler?” Virgil suggested.

“Perfect.”

“Maybe I should have picked a different day to wear all black,” Virgil said while sweating in the 85 degrees heat. “You’re probably really hot too.” 

“Yeah.” 

Virgil felt the urge to throw himself in the sun because of the failed small talk, however, he just stood in line next to Logan instead. 

Logan snaked his hand into Virgil’s and they stood there saying nothing for a couple of minutes.

“Tickets please!” A young teenage girl practically yelled with fake enthusiasm. 

Logan gave her four tickets, two per person, and they sat into a booth type thing.

“Are you excited?” Logan asked.

“Hell yeah, I’m so ready to throw up.”

“Alright! Please do not open the booth or stand up or undo the seatbelt. Have fun!” The overly enthusiastic teenager yelled before starting the ride.

The ride started out slow, but eventually, it got faster and faster, and Virgil’s thin body was pressed up against Logan’s side. Virgil places his hand in Logan’s and squeezed. Although Virgil is having fun, he’s also terrified. Logan grazed his thumb over Virgil’s in a slow and comforting pattern.

After the Scrambler they went on the Scat, then the Tilt-A-Whirl and Virgil had to sit down on a bench just to keep himself from throwing up. 

“Are you having fun?” Logan asked as he sat down next to Virgil.

“Yeah, thank you so much,” Virgil said as he laid his head on Logan’s shoulder. Logan put his arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “We should go to the lake.” The lake is known to be a go-to make out place for delinquent teenagers.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They were quiet the entire car ride, and once they reached the destination they sat in the car and watched the geese flocking around.

Virgil unbuckled his seat belt and looked over to Logan, who smiled back. Logan unbuckled his seat belt while keeping his eyes on Virgil. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Logan said.

“Thanks.” Virgil covered his blushing face with his hands. Logan gently took Logan’s hands away from his face.

“You’re cute when you blush.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush more.”

Virgil climbed into Logan’s lap and sat with his legs on either side of him, which was a little uncomfortable since they’re in a car. They’re so close that Logan can feel Virgil’s warm breath on his face.

Logan sets his hands on Virgil’s hips, and Virgil gently places his hands on the sides of Logan’s face. Virgil leans in but stops a centimeter from Logan’s face.

“Logan Woods, you are such a kind and caring person.”

Logan started to dig his fingers into Virgil’s hips.

“Fuck, Logan,” Virgil whimpered.

Logan closed the gap between them. The kiss is soft at first, and Virgil can tell that this is Logan’s first kiss. Even though Virgil is extremely submissive, he leads the kiss. He slightly grinds on Logan as he deepens the kiss. Logan releases a small moan and snaked his arms around Virgil. 

They are now chest-to-chest, breathing heavily as they take their lips off of each other.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Logan admitted.

“Couldn’t have been that long, we only met two weeks ago.”

“That was my first kiss.”

“I know.”

Virgil placed sloppily kissed on Logan’s neck, and it takes everything in Logan not to release a loud moan. Instead, he releases a quiet and breathy one. Virgil leaned back and grazed his thumb along Logan’s bottom lip. 

“How can one man be so damn beautiful?” Virgil asked, and Logan smiled.

Virgil put his hands on Logan’s shoulders and leaned in for another kiss. This kiss is passionate and heavy. Their hands roamed each other's bodies, which caused a lot of cute little noises to rupture from the two men.

The parted once again and sat there and breathed heavily before Logan said, “we should go to my house.”

Here are videos of the rides in action:

The Scrambler

The Scat

Tilt-A-Whirl

Taglist

@metaphoricalpluto @scorching-scotch @sockopath @confinesofpersonalknowledge @nienna14 @awkward-avocado-of-death @6tick6tock6

Next Chapter (Coming June 17th, 2018)

[thisaintascenereviews]

Album Review by Bradley Christensen Fall Out Boy – M A N I A Record Label: Island / DCD2 Release Date: January 19 2018

Throughout my eleven years being a music fan, no other band has meant more to me than Fall Out Boy has or ever will. I have such a strange relationship with them, because they’re a band that’s been there since the very beginning. Their third album, 2007’s Infinity On High, is the album that got me into music, so if it weren’t for Fall Out Boy, I wouldn’t be here right now. Our relationship has always been symbiotic, because just as much as I’ve grown with them, they’ve also grown up with me. I’m not the same person I was when I first got into music, and my music taste is nowhere near the same as it once was. Fall Out Boy is not the same band they were all of those years ago, and their sound is nowhere near the same as it once was. This band has been a major staple in my life throughout these last eleven years. I don’t even mean that in terms of my music taste, but they’ve been there for me during a lot of the worst times of my life. When Infinity On High came out, part of why I resonated with it was that it was an album that made me feel less alone. The other album that means a hell of a lot to me is 2015’s American Beauty / American Psycho. This LP came out at the end of that relationship, and I was almost not going to listen to the album, because that person and I both loved the band, so I felt like I couldn’t listen to them anymore without feeling negatively. Revisiting Infinity On High, however, made me remember how much the band means to me otherwise, and how no one can take away those prior memories of discovering this LP at Target when it came out, ultimately falling in love with music for the first time. American Beauty / American Psycho was an album that represented moving on, because I was finally free from someone that hurt me, abused me, and treated me terribly for so long. I have a strange relationship with Fall Out Boy, because it seems like their albums come out during the right time for me. American Beauty / American Psycho was an album that I needed to hear, because it not only helped me through that awful mess, but it was an album that reinvigorated my love for Fall Out Boy.

Here we are a few years later, and we’ve been gifted with their seventh album, M A N I A. This album has an interesting history behind it, too, because it was supposed to come out in September of last year, but the band delayed it. They weren’t happy with the songs on it, and only two songs from the original vision for the album remained – “Young And Menace” and “Champion.” It worked out that the album came out when it did, because I’m at a whole new chapter in my life. It’s amazing how things can change in the span of a few years, because I went from being utterly devastated and heartbroken to being in the best relationship that I’ve ever had. I met my girlfriend around September of last year, right when the album was supposed to come out, but to keep a long short, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me and I’m absolutely in love with her. Even before its release, however, M A N I A meant a lot to me. American Beauty / American Psycho represented moving on and looking to the future, but M A N I A represents truly being happy. Not only am I truly happy, especially because I finally found someone that truly loves me, cares about me, and respects me, but the band is also truly happy. They started to experiment more with American Beauty / American Psycho, but they truly do it here, and in that sense, I feel like Fall Out Boy has never felt happier with their sound and what they’re doing. It’s an album that represents the same thing for me, and it’s honestly amazing to truly be excited for a new album from these guys. I was definitely excited for American Beauty / American Psycho, but at the same time, I was only excited for the last week before its release. I’ve been excited for M A N I A for the last few years, and everything that’s happened in the last few months, especially with meeting my girlfriend, it feels great to genuinely be excited for this album.

I know that this review doesn’t necessarily read like a review, because I’m not talking about the music itself, but there’s a reason for that. I wanted to focus a bit more on the meaning behind this LP for me, because it’s a personal album for me, as well as the band, obviously. This album means a lot to me, and I wanted to talk about that before I talked about the album itself, because there’s a lot to unpack. I’ll be frank, folks – M A N I A’s great. I love it. I know a lot of people, especially those that grew up with the first few albums, and all of that stuff, don’t like this record, and they think they “sold out,” as well as all that other nonsense, but the band sounds amazing on this album. This record’s on par with Infinity On High, but more specifically, it’s for its experimentation and scattershot sound. I don’t know about its quality, but there’s something to be said about how Infinity On High is my favorite album from them, partially because it’s their most and experimental. Time will tell, though, but in the meantime, this album is awesome. This album is definitely more pop than anything else, but I don’t see that as a bad thing. They never “sold out,” and they’re definitely the most confident and happiest they’ve ever been as a band, which shows in the music itself. A lot of people were very turned off with “Young And Menace,” the lead single from the album, and I understand that, because it’s a weird EDM-ish song, but it’s a really cool and weird song that has its own feel to it. It opens up the digital tracklisting of the album, and yeah, the album actually has two different tracklistings. If you buy the digital copy, there’s one tracklisting, but the physical CD has the same songs on it, just in a different order. I’ve only heard the digital one, but I wouldn’t mind listening to the psychical CD tracklisting. I feel like the digital is better, only because “Young And Menace” is a perfect opening song. It represents how you don’t know what to expect when playing this album. This album truly is scattershot, but that doesn’t ever become an issue to me.

This album’s definitely their “poppiest,” I guess you could say, but that doesn’t bother me one bit. “Pop” is not a dirty word in music, especially when this album is one of their most experimental. This sounds a lot like the sequel to vocalist Patrick Stump’s 2011 solo LP, Soul Punk, and not in the sense that Fall Out Boy is a Patrick Stump solo project, or anything like that, but that album’s sound was rooted in pop, R&B, soul, funk, and electronic music, much like this one. “Young And Menace” is an EDM track at its core, but the next track, “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea” is an R&B-laced track, whereas “Church” has a gospel-tinged sound to it, and “Heaven’s Gate” is pretty much Fall Out Boy’s first foray into outright soul music. There’s a lot of experimentation here, and it all depends on how you feel about these styles, or how you feel about the band itself, as well as how they’ve gone into a more mainstream-accessible direction. Personally, I’m all for it, because there are plenty of great hooks throughout this record. Stump’s vocals are amazing on this album, and I’m surprised at how he keeps getting better and better throughout his career, but he does. The songs themselves are a bit more simplistic this time around, at least in terms of their structures, so this LP is really short, not even 40 minutes long. It’s a bit over 35 minutes long, making it their shortest album to date, but that works to its advantages. It makes the experimentation a bit easier to take in, especially if you’re not used to it or even all that into it. Not to mention, the lyrics are a bit more repetitive and simplistic on this record, which doesn’t really bother me, because the lyrics have a lot of potent and interesting messages and ideas within them, such as “The Last Of The Real Ones,” “Church,” “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes),” “Heaven’s Gate,” and a few more. There are a lot of little lyrical nuggets that stick out throughout the album, and while they are more repetitive, so certain lyrics will stick out more, bassist / lyricist Pete Wentz’s writing is still interesting and tongue-in-cheek, so I can’t say I haven’t any complaints with the lyrics whatsoever.

All in all, M A N I A’s a great record and I’m not ashamed to admit that. Why would I be? I love it. I’ve been excited about it for years now, even before it came to fruition, but it’s what I was hoping for. I want them to explore more facets of pop music, and even just styles of music in general that they wanted to experiment with. That’s what this album is – an experiment. People are calling it a “mixtape,” and I’m like, “Why?” I understand why people don’t like this album. I get it. It’s not that I don’t get why people aren’t into it, especially fans that prefer their more pop-punk side (and that’s totally understandable all in itself), but my issues lie with the entitled fans that never want them to change or think they sold out, merely for going to a pop-based sound. They didn’t. I hate that Fall Out Boy has gotten this bad reputation over the last ten years, especially within the last five, when they came back from their hiatus, but what can you do? It seems like a lot of people love this album, and even then, nothing is going to prevent me from loving this LP, so I’m going to praise it to the moon and back. It’s a wonderful album that shows how experimental, interesting, and confident this band still is. It’s all that I’ve hoped for and a bit more, too, because I didn’t think the album would be so experimental, but it is. There’s a lot happening on this album, and as someone that’s very big into pop music, someone that’s enjoyed the last couple of Fall Out Boy albums, and even really enjoyed Stump’s solo material, especially Soul Punk, I’m totally into this record. The meaning itself is something that elevates this album already, because it’s an album that feels like was worth the wait. I’ve been truly excited about this, and it’s the first Fall Out Boy album that I’ve been excited about in a long time, as well as an album that represents happiness. This album came out at a perfect time, but not a negative time. While American Beauty / American Psycho came out when I was reeling from the aftermath of a breakup, this one came out during the middle of the best thing to ever happen to me. Fall Out Boy get to be apart of that, even if it’s in the most indirect way, but being able to start off the new year with an album from my favorite band, as well as my favorite person, is absolutely amazing to me.