#one of my favorite spots because when you get real far out there nobody even bothers to swim out towards you hbfhsv

[keeps-ache]

brrrba pa pa da de do ♩

[bagopucks]

J. Hughes - Sally Forth [Peter McPoland]

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Jack Hughes x Fem!dancer!reader

Requested✨

Word count: 3.7k

Warning(s): None

I didn’t state ‘Dance Moms’ specifically, but I also didn’t specify any studio or tv show for that matter. So it’s up for interpretation! The title is also the song I had in mind for the reader’s performance, but that is also up for each person’s creative interpretation.

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“Be ready ladies! I’m serious!” The shrill voice of our dance instructor had myself and the other girls tensing in our seats. This had to be perfect. I had to be perfect.

What the internet says is no lie, reality tv is not for children. I know that, but I have never once regretted experiencing all seven seasons of this show, and now finishing eight. The tv aspect is not what worries me. It’s Nationals. I got the soloist spot in my studio. Some girls cheered me on, others did not. I learned who were my real friends and who weren’t over the years. It was the same with the moms. I’ve always had trouble with them. Any adult in your life can be someone you look to for guidance. In this case, I did not enjoy the company or guidance of any mother on the show. The moms were always building someone up and tearing someone down. Often one was done to accomplish the other. Nobody could ever be equal.

Our director, competition, the end of a season. These were all relative constants in my life from a young age. They caused distress and pride. Self esteem issues, and self discovery.

I was never soft. In this industry I learned that a person simply won’t survive if they are too sensitive. But I had a superpower. Mama Hughes always reminded me of that. I was raised across the street from three rambunctious boys. They gave me hell every day of my life. I had a rough exterior and interior because I grew up getting pushed around, hit in the eyes with foam hockey balls, and shoving any brother out of the way when I heard Ellen shout that lunch was ready. Underneath the chaos, it had always been more than that. I would spend hours working on puzzles with Quinn, and watching movies we weren’t supposed to with Jack. A lot of the bonding I did with Luke was more so teasing and ganging up on him with his brothers, but I did offer school advice when he came to me for it. I slept over with those boys for many years, all wrapped up in comforters sprawled out across the floor. I spent many holidays with them as well. Even Hanukkah.

It was not only my grit and rough exterior that kept me afloat, but my good heart and soul that helped me not get lost in the fame and fortune. Ellen often told me that. But when her words didn’t work, I went to Jack.

He was the only person right now I could consistently think of. My mother and Ellen were here. The dads were in charge of the boys. I didn’t know why. How many adults did it take to control the Hughes boys? I could do it grabbing one by the ear, pinching another’s side, and promising the third a cookie.

I’d have a large support group, but Jack was the one I was worried about messing up in front of. People used to make jokes about us being so close, saying that one day we might get married. We used to gag at each other and shoot off empty insults about the opposite sex until we thought we made our points loud and clear.

Jack stopped that childish antic before me.

I stopped it shortly after.

then we ended up together.

“Alright, your costume’s in the bathroom, let me see your makeup.” I turned in my chair to look up at Ellen. My mother had never been particularly great at cosmetics, but Ellen promised she’d be there to make me pop. “You look beautiful.”

I did some of it on my own, but our instructor was tense about young teens doing their own makeup, so Ellen helped with the eyeliner and maskera.

“Go get into your costume while I clean up.” My mom piped up, and I smiled at her before practically sprinting to the bathroom down the hall. My costume was my favorite one by far. A dark green corset top, where one of the straps was covered in pale pastel colored flowers. Connected to it was a cream colored chiffon skirt, the same pastel floral arrangement sewn in strategically to make the buds look like they grew in a curved diagonal up the side. The skirt flowed nicely with my movements when I practiced in it, and the flowers accentuated every twist and turn. I gave myself a once over in the bathroom mirror before the nerves finally dawned on me. The tingly feeling followed me all the way back into the dressing room, my nails digging into my palms. Jack used to hold my hands in school under the desks when I did that. Now I didn’t have Jack with me.

“Oh baby!” My mom gasped, heads of other girls turning in the process. “You look so perfect.” My mom reached her arms out, and I did my best to attempt a side hug.

“Please don’t crush the flowers mom,” I spoke, alarming her and causing her to pull back.

“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart.” One of the mothers chimed in with what I might dare to call a genuine smile. “Now you just have to dance as perfect as you look.” There it was.

I quickly turned back to Ellen and my mother, my brows furrowed in a silent type of fear I didn’t know how to articulate. After so many years of dance, I still couldn’t voice my nerves properly when I needed to. No doubt because the other girls got torn down for it in the studio.

“You’re going to be so good baby. Come here,” my mom sat down in the chair I previously used in front of my vanity. I walked over and placed my hands in her own.

“You’re gonna do so good. What matters is that you were good enough to make it this far. This right here, is already impressive enough for everybody in this family. Your father and I will never stop bragging about you to everybody we know. Win or lose.” She smiled, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. My own mother made me want to cry on my performance day. “Ellen-“ she sniffed. “Pep talk- I’m gonna cry.”

I turned back to the woman I’d known since the age of seven. She smiled at me, I saw her boys in her. Most of all, I saw so much of Jack in her.

“Motivational pep talk. Ready?” I nodded. “You’re gonna get out there, and show those kids who’s boss. Because in the Hughes house, what do we believe in?”

“Checks, goals, and five holes?” I saw Ellen’s face contort into confusion. She’d have to ask which brother taught me that later.

“No… but close. Hard work takes you far. And dedication. And kid, as cheesy as it is, as long as you have fun, that’s all it takes to be happy with your results.” Ellen’s words made me nod. I drew in a slow breath. “But if you have to check a girl off stage, I won’t hold it against you.” I broke out into a quiet fit of laughter before our moment was interrupted by our instructor informing everybody to step out into the hall. We all did, some girls huddled together while I stood between Ellen and my mom. Ever since I got this solo, I’ve felt alienated. Quinn said they were just jealous. But as a teenager, all you want is to be accepted in a place you feel you belong.

“Ellen!” Jim rounded the corner in a beige suit, looking breathless. “Ellen, you’ve gotta come help me. There’s twenty of them, and they won’t sit in their seats. Luke keeps eating all the skittles- Jack won’t keep his tie on.. and Quinn-“ he looked exasperated, as if Quinn had been the worst of all. Then he paused. “Quinn’s actually fine.. but they’re impossible to handle.” Ellen laughed at her husband’s hardship before turning to give me a quick shoulder squeeze.

“We all believe in you.” She gave me a nod, and I returned it before she walked to her husband.

“Break someone’s leg, eh?” Jimmy’s words earned concerned looks from some of the mothers before the Hughes parents left. Leaving me to wait with my mother.

As the competition started, group by group, one by one, girls went on the stage, and came off. Some beamed with pride, others cried, others looked completely relieved.

“Mom I need to text Jack.” I turned to look at her, distressed. My throat was dry, and I felt like I could barely stand on my own two legs.

“Your phone’s in the dressing room, hun.”

“Please,” I begged. She pursed her lips before retrieving her own phone from her pocket, texting Ellen and telling the blonde woman her middle child was needed.

——————

Out in the auditorium, Ellen’s phone was being passed from boy to boy, until it reached the Hughes brothers on the opposite end of the isle.

Ellie H… Sup?

Jack. I’m really nervous.

Ellie H… No reason. You’ll be fine. You did this in the living room for me like 80 times.

Yeah. But did you point out every little thing that was wrong?

Ellie H… Don’t question yourself. Just go out there, do your dance, celly a little, and lay back for the rest of the night.

Celly a little? I can’t do that on stage.. they’ll take off points.

Ellie H… I don’t know how this thing works. Mom says you look beautiful. I can’t wait to see you :)

Don’t make my nerves worse. But.. yeah I’m excited to see you too. Your dad said you wouldn’t keep your tie on?

Ellie H… Oh it’s on. Mom yelled at me.

Can’t say I’m surprised. I bet you look handsome.

Ellie H… I do. And you’re gonna be fire. 💃

Ellie H… mom says I have to put this away. It’s disrespectful or something. I’ll

———Point of View Switch———

“Jack Rowden!” I could hear my mom trying to shout through whispers, turning my head to look at her as she leaned forward to see me through a row full of guys my age. My team. They were all trying their best not to snicker while the next age group was introduced. I looked back down at the phone to finish my text before Quinn snatched the phone from my hand, bumping the send button in the process.

“Dude!”

“Mom said stop.”

“She needed me.”

“She needed me!” My head whipped to Luke, seated on my other side.

“Shut up Luke. You can’t even get a girlfriend.” Quinn backhanded my stomach- but our fight ceased at the sound of our best friend’s name. My girlfriend’s name.

I couldn’t see her in the dim lights, but I knew her figure when she walked out on stage. I saw the way her skirt flowed behind her as well. She always walked so fast. Like a woman on a mission. When she was little, I used to watch her from across the yard with a box of chalk. She’d step right out the front door and march over to her driveway like she planned on making the most elaborate chalk art known to man. One day I got the courage to actually cross the street to see her. She didn’t like sharing her chalk at first… but that was probably because I used to press so hard I’d break it. She had to show me how to use it right. Always so gentle and elegant with everything.

“She’s set. That’s what they call it in dance when a performer-“

“Quinn, shut up.” I scolded my brother, leaning forward in my seat as my hands gripped my knees.

There was a solid moment where I swear nobody breathed, but it was just me holding the air in my lungs. My girlfriend stopped moving. She was set. She liked to tell me it was a dancer’s face off.

The lights came up in bright pale colors, and the song began. I gripped my knees tighter than ever. Was this what she felt like when she watched my hockey games?

“Oh my god,” Quinn would describe my tone as enamored. I didn’t even know what that word meant. As she moved around the stage, she was breathtaking. I held my breath and gasped with every jump, turn, leap, and roll. She was good. Better than I was at hockey. And even though I’d seen this routine a million times before, it felt like the first time when she was on stage.

“Quinn! Quinny, give me the phone.” I took it from him turning on the camera and holding it up before Luke reached out. “Stop!” I hissed.

“Let me do it so you can watch her,” my younger brother offered, and that’s when I handed the phone over.

I always thought my girlfriend was brilliant every day. Every time I held her, cuddled up on the couch with her. Every time we played board games or watched movies, or studied together. I always thought she was incredible, but I never got to see her really dance. Hockey always got in the way of recitals, and my mom was always worried that me coming around too much might get me roped up into a camera shot. She supported my lovely girl on stage, but I could understand why she didn’t want me or my brothers on tv. Different lives called for different people.

My eyes were trained on her the whole time she floated across the stage. She had grace and emotion in her movements. I could feel the love for what she did, and I swear I could see it in her body language.

“Dude,” Quinn broke the silence. Silence that shouldn’t have been broken, but we didn’t have a clue. Nor did we think it too disrespectful.

“I know.” I answered, my words drawl out as I slowly leaned back, a smile forming on my lips.

“You have to marry her.” Quinn’s eyes flickered from myself back to the stage, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair.

“Can’t if she marries dance first.”

“This is the one time I would ever encourage an affair.”

The woman in front of us turned around to glare, Quinn and I fell silent. Luke was busy giggling at the fact that the audio of whatever video he got, it was going to be good.

———Point Of View Switch———

When the music came to a close, I found myself smiling as bright as the sun. I gave a graceful bow before lifting my head to see an entire isle full of people springing upright. My eyes travelled the expanse of boys to find three brothers near the end in matching navy blue suits. My smile widened. I wanted to scream.

When I was allowed to leave the stage, I did. The second I was concealed by curtains, I went sprinting to hug my mother. Now we had to play the waiting game.

I sat in the dressing room and broke off small pieces of a chocolate bar while the other girls mingled and gossiped about the acts and who they thought was placing where. I tried not to dwell on it, but I did nonetheless. My leg bounced uncontrollably, eyes set on the floor while my mom sat beside me.

“What does this emoji mean?” I turned to look at her phone. She caught sight of the end of mine and Jack’s conversation.

“I don’t know mom.. it’s just a dancer.”

When they began to announce awards, all of the dancers were called to a roped off section of the auditorium to sit. I passed the side where Jim and Ellen sat, and received a fist bump from Jimmy on the way by. I tried not to give Jack any attention, knowing if I did, I’d be even more anxious to go home empty handed in front of him.

As the groups were gone through, and recognitions handed out as well as prizes, I began to tense up.

I was gripping the edge of my seat. Only one person could be in first place of my group.

They announced the third. My heart panicked, but it made me hopeful to be second or first.

They announced the second, and my chest began to tighten while my doubts sank in. My chances narrowed. Slim to none.

The woman on stage announced the first, and all of a sudden, everything wasn’t real any more. I heard my mother screaming her lungs out. I heard Jack’s voice in the back of my head, ‘celly a little.’ What did that even look like for me?

When my emotions caught up with my body, it looked like running in place, bouncing from foot to foot, and shouting at the top of my lungs. Then I bounded out of my isle and up onto the stage. I was presented with a sash and a trophy. Then a pretty silver crown. The woman on stage congratulated me, allowed for a few rounds of applause, and I was sent to sit again. Somebody came by to take my trophy to the back for me. I insisted to keep the crown and the sash.

When the competition was brought to a close, and everyone was thanked for coming, I leapt out of my seat, running to find my parents and the rest of my ‘fans.’ I smoothed down my skirt before reaching my mom, giving her the tightest hug I could before my dad playfully pushed her aside. I heard a voice smack talking my father from behind.

“Come on man, let me see her!” The voice finally pleaded, and my dad let me go, stepping aside to let me at Jack. I bounced into his arms, and he practically swung me from side to side as I shouted in pure joy.

“God you were mesmerizing! I love you so much.” We were only fifteen, but we swore we were in love with one another.

“Thank you for coming Jack,” I breathed a sigh of relief into his shoulder before I felt a force shove his weight into mine, pushing him forward and myself back.

“Let her go, loser. We want some too.” Quinn’s words made Jack reluctantly let me go, and the eldest brother quickly slipped past to wrap his arms around me. The crown on my head slipped, but Quinn was quick to snatch it before it fell.

“I’ll hold onto this, yeah?” The eldest brother offered, making me smile and nod.

“You were awesome. Luke got a video.” Quinn informed me, slowly pulling away.

“Luke got a video?” Ellen was reaching to grab her phone from her youngest.

Instead of hugs, Luke and I exchanged a quick handshake we made up long ago before he smiled at me. “It was pretty okay,” the blonde teased. I ruffled his somewhat styled hair.

I went through with the rest of the group, greeting each of the players with smiles and high fives or fist bumps. By the time I got to the end, I realized Jack had gone around to meet me there, I giggled softly at his eagerness. He had a twinkle in his eyes that made me want to hug him forever in that moment.

We shared another quick embrace, my eyes caught on a camera behind Jack. Ellen’s boys couldn’t escape the screen this time. When Jack pulled away, I gestured for him to take his suit jacket off. For the rest of the time we stood around talking, Jack held his jacket up, concealing us from whatever cameras we spotted.

The end was the sloppy part. Everybody was getting packed up and beginning to leave. The competition had been far from home, but the hotel we were booked to stay in was nice. The hockey team had to be somewhere else, as did the Hughes boys, but Ellen told Jack she could stay with him in her room where I was only one door down that night.

By the time we left the competition building, it was pitch black outside.

“Mom, can I go with Jack?” I asked softly, and she was quick to nod a yes. My dad offered to travel with the hockey team on the bus, so Jim could spend some time with his family after being apart. Quinn and Luke took the middle seats while Jack and I crammed ourselves into the back together. Despite the jovial moods everyone was in, exhaustion was also evident. A few things were said before silence filled the car on the ride to the hotel.

“You did so good.. I was so nervous every time you jumped. You’ve never done that before in the living room.” Jack and I whispered back and forth as we sat, practically sharing the middle seat in the back. We had unbuckled to be closer. Not the safest move, I’ll admit.

“You really did look handsome tonight.” I whispered in return, reaching up to rest my hands on his shoulders.

“I loved your dance outfit.. but I think these sweatpants look better on you.” Jack teased softly as he rested his head atop the seat he leaned half of his body against. Our knees were touching, legs folded up onto the seats to make facing one another as comfortable as possible.

I dropped my head to rest against the top of the seat as well, our eyes never wandering unless to look at the other’s lips. We’ve never kissed before. In the dark, in the back of the car, it felt like our own little world. Jack must have been thinking the same thing I was.

Our heads slowly drew nearer before our lips touched. Nobody reached out to touch the other, still too hesitant to do much else, but the kiss was electric.

After we pulled away, silence followed. Jack smiled at me, and I smiled back. Within minutes, I scooted closer and rested a hand on his knee, sighing to myself and slowly dozing off as Jack began pulling the pins out of my hair and taking the bun out. I was out like a light before the ends of my hair ever met my shoulders.

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[on-this-day-mcr]

On this day, April 9

In 2002: My Chemical Romance gave their first ever interview. The interview, featuring Gerard and Mikey, was for Snagglezine, a New Jersey fanzine run by two Eyeball Records interns.  Read the interview here, or below the cut!

M: I'm Michael Way, I play the bass guitar. G: I'm Gerard Way, I'm the singer. K: Your biggest influences? G: Iron Maiden. M: The Smiths. G: At the Gates, Brit pop, Blur, Morrisey, shit like that. Like metal, like melodic metal. We're all about it, like Helloween, big influences. M: Oh yeah. Keeper of the Seven Keys. G: You can't hear any of our influences in our music though but it's there. M: It's subconsciously in the music, but nobody else can pick it up unless you're looking for it, you can't really pick on what's there. K: We hear that you just signed to Eyeball (Records). How's it feel to be signed to such a great label? G: We're fucking really excited. M: It's so excellent. G: I've know Alex for a while, I probably shouldn't say that, Alex is fucking great. M: ..and an amazing human being. We've known him and he took care of fucking Thursday and we were psyched about that, but not only that, we were really psyched to be with Pencey Prep because those kids fuckin helped us out right from the start. They gave us their tour van when we needed it, they gave us their fuckin tour van! Hambone gave us the tour van and fuckin cause they're getting a new one and they gave us a spot in their practice studio that we share with them, so we share a practice studio with them. C: Yeah Alex got us our first interview, Thursday. M: Yeah I remember, I was right there. No, but it's great cause it's like a family, we all hang out all the time, it's amazing. G: We can't hang out with Thursday as much as we'd like to cause they're always on tour which is gonna happen to all our bands now. K: Favorite bands to play with and favorite venue? G: Pencey (Prep). M: So far it's just Pencey (Prep) but the Loop (Lounge) was hot. G: But the Loop, even though they don't let kids in which sucks, I don't like that 21 and over stuff, but it had great sound. M: Yeah, there's like a professional sound guy. G: But this place (Garfield American Legion) had great sound. C: CBGB'S had good sound for Thursday. M: Oh the Piebald one? C: Yeah. G: Oh I want to play there. C: It's good. M: So far we only played about 5 shows, out of 5 shows, the Loop was the best. G: And we got an encore there. M: Yeah people were calling for an encore. K: That's awesome, we've never been there. Have you guys played in any bands before? G: Me and Mikey had this band called Raygun Jones and we were like, you know, really young and he was the bass player back then too. We had a female bass player and she just dropped out so we just put a bass on Mikey pretty much the same way we did this time. We put a bass on him and said play. We trained him. M: Yeah exactly. It's like I normally play guitar but like my brother came up to me with the material and I was just so blown away that I had to join. I was like, "I don't care what I play" and "I have to be in this somehow". G: He really filled out our band. We had a good vibe going anyway but then when he was in it, it clicked. And that's why, the way you saw us play out there today, we weren't playing like that until Mikey was playing tight with us and joining. K: How long have you guys been established and what was your reason for starting a band? G: The band, uh, me and Otter really got together in November, I believe, and the real reason we established it was because it has a lot to do with the September 11th attack. I was on my way to get ready for a Cartoon Network meeting because I do cartoons and stuff and he had that option. We saw the plane hit right from the train and when we got there we were all just standing on the pier in Hoboken like right on the edge. There's like 300 people that were friend and family and we all saw it go down. That's when I realized that doing this cartoon was bullshit, I love to draw and make art but it was so commercial, it was just that I felt like having meetings with people in suits, it just made me realize what the hell I'm doing with my life. That's what our 1st song that we always open with "Skylines and Turnstyles" is about. It's about the Trade Center. C: Although I'm a big fan of the Cartoon Network and like 3 in the afternoon in your pajamas... G: Yeah but dealing with them is not fun. That actually got it and everyone like came together through the music. It's like therapy. K: How did you get the name and does it imply that you guys are quite the partiers? M & G: Hahaha Oh!!! G: We used to call Mike "Mikey Party" but now he's "Mikey Romance". K: That's how we met you! M: Yeah it was at a party. G: It's like 11 different meanings for the band. You can take them anywhere. On a personal level, for me, it's about anti-depressants. I was like so depressed about a year ago and I just wanted to cut my fuckin face off. It's also like a reference to Irvine Welsh and his books. M: All his books are like classified as Chemical Romances. It's like love stories where there's like drugs involved. C: Yeah, I went to google to see if you guys had a site and all his stuff came up. M: Yup yup, Irvine Welsh. Now there's only 2 people so far that picked up on that. Two people were like "Whoa, you mean like Irvine Welsh?". But it's a personal level, like we took the name and we brought it to a personal level. G: Yeah it really means for me anti-depressants. Like we drink beer and shit... M: We like to party. K & C: Hell yeah. G: We drink and party, we rock and roll man. K: Yeah, the most "un-edge" name, right? G: We don't like do drugs though. C: You're not my friend then. (haha, he's kidding). M: Yeah we don't need drugs to have a good time. :: Gerard announces slumber party and that guitar player takes guitar to a whole new level because he has a gash and is bleeding:: K: One more serious one, what do you guys think of the sudden outburst of bands on indie labels such as Thursday, Phantom Planet, Hot Water Music, and Rival Schools being played on MTV2 and MTVX? G: I think, I always thought this because I've been an artist with comics from that whole scene too. Anything from the underground eventually makes its way up. It's like something underground, it's new and fresh and it's eventually gonna make its way up to the tv. It's bound to happen, it happens with everything. Nirvana is the best example of it and I think that's what's gonna happen with Jersey and I think it's gonna be great. M: I think it's like survival of the fittest cause like whoever's doing it for the right reasons is gonna survive and whoever's doing it for the wrong reasons is gonna get chopped and fried and we all know who's doing it for the right reasons. C: Yeah we know. Do you guys like Dragon Tales? G: We're Lord of the Rings fans. M: No, he's talking about the cartoon. C: ...on PBS. G: The only exposure I have with Dragon Tales is that little kids come in and ask for the cd @ B & N. C: Best Valentine's gift you ever got? G: I'm about to get one right now but I haven't seen it yet. Shit. I haven't really gotten any. I got roses, I love roses so a girl got me roses. That was pretty cool. M: You know what, I can't even remember getting one because there hasn't been a powerful female outlet in my life to give me a Valentine's day gift. So there's no Valentine's day gift I can remember. C: No little candy hearts from grandma or mom or anything like I usually get? M: No way! K: You got frogs this year. M: You're lucky dude. C: Yeah I got frogs from her. Disney character that most represents you? M: Donald Duck. G: Yeah Mike dressed up like Donald Duck in 2nd grade. M: It was a fuckin rad costume, my grandma made it. G: It was fuckin hot and then the next year he dressed up as a stay puff marshmallow. M: And it was also really hot. G: Mr. Toad. C: Would you guys ever cover "The Lady Is A Tramp" by Frank Sinatra? M: It could be done. G: Could we do that? M: It could totally be done. G: Yeah I could see us doing that. M: Cause Frankie's awesome. G: What about doing a Dean Martin or a Sammy? M: Those guys knew how to party man. C: The Rat Pack. G: The Sans Crew. Vegas man. We want to bring Hambone with us cause he always wins on slots. M: He's the King of Slots. ::tangent on Hambone:: Other members not in interview: Otter (Matt)->drums Ray Toro->guitar, phenomenal

[prettyoddfever]

why are you so against ryden

I'm literally only pointing out why specific examples of "Ryden proof" don't work, or were misinterpreted by people who don't know much about the band. If me being pro-reality means that you consider me anti-Ryden then, uh… you might want to examine that more.

As long as we're on this topic, I'm going to expand on an older post here and go off on a tangent:

I actually loved the Ryden part of the fandom in the pre-split days! Ryden felt like a fandom-wide inside joke that united so many fans and sparked so much creativity (sometimes it reminded me of inventing bs symbolism in english & art classes lol). I didn’t read the slash, but it’s not like those kids stayed exclusively over in their communities… they were everywhere. A lot of my favorite accounts were massive Ryden fans & fic authors. but even the most die-hard shippers in 2006 & 2007 would scoff if new fans asked if they were ever being serious with their comments. It was all just entertaining wish fulfillment done to amuse themselves. They would act like it was a legit alternate reality and write long funny primers & posts like “look guys, they are in love. this is facts… here I go with my proof," but when it came down to whether or not they actually thought it was real… no, of course not. The fanfic authors were the first to laugh and say they weren’t hurting anyone because nobody actually believed Ryden was real and everyone was on the same page. They argued that every single band had a slash community and it just came with the fame. Some fans genuinely wanted Ryden to be real, while others thought it was entertaining how you could cherry-pick events & isolate them from any context to make Ryden look plausible. And both groups were taking matters into their own hands by trying to tie enough pictures & random dots together to make it look like a happy alternate reality that satisfied everyone. It was funny.

The majority of the pre-split fandom understood that Ryden wasn’t real, so people were on the same page when they shared their “proof.” It was like an inside joke. For example, I’ll argue that unicorns could be real because I know that the person I’m talking to is aware of reality. I can get as creative as I want and just have fun because we’re both on the same page… and the other person will be like “well yes of course they’re obviously real.” It looks like we agree. But that does not mean that we truly believe it lol... we're just bored & entertaining ourselves. Someone else who is unsure whether or not unicorns actually exist might read our convo and conclude that we are certain unicorns are real and have proof! But I never intended for my silly convo with my friend to be taken that seriously.

For me, Ryden was more about the fandom. It was just fun to see a picture or new moment and wait to see if anyone else spotted the same potential too. The slash accounts across different sites/forums would even make fun of themselves for how far they would go to make everything fit Ryden. At times it felt like an affectionate joke about the band and the fandom. 

I’d say the Ryden craze first took over with the huge surge of new fans during the summer 2006 tour (around the time Brendon & Ryan started fully going for the mic sharing each night). This was back when the band still read the forums and different fan sites and were trying to get a sense of what their fans were saying (such a bad idea lol). I was never totally clear on where the guys stood on Ryden in 2006 but it seemed like they were in on the joke… but it was so confusing at the same time. Like one minute they’d complain about the disgusting “pornfiction” in an interview and the next minute they’d be hamming it up for meet & greet pictures. Bden would practically hump Ryan’s leg during a show and then Ryan would suggestively run his hand up Bden’s thigh during a meet & greet exactly when he knew fans were watching… and then they’d both act like they didn’t get why fans ever came up with stories about them. I’m not saying their actions meant they were asking for something btw. I’m just saying that it’s equally true that the guys would claim they weren’t huge on Ryden and that they intentionally fueled the fire to get fans to laugh/scream at the right time. The band was super aware that the Ryden fans were a huge part of the fandom who drove a lot of the hype online… so it seemed like in late 2006 the guys were just trying to connect with a fanbase they were being quickly distanced from as they got more & more famous. Then in 2008 the guys intentionally added extra Ryden elements to their stage routine because they knew what a lot of fans still wanted to see.

So my conclusion was that it was all in good fun (except making suggestive comments to the band irl was horrible… people were even saying some seriously gross stuff to Zack about the boys and taking it waaaaay too far). During the lull of 2007, and even into 2008, there seemed to be a whole section of the fandom that was more invested in their fanfic communities than the irl band (they’d often come onto other boards & communities to ask for facts or details for their fanfics and watching the replies they got was like watching a really bad game of telephone haha so I’m guessing those plots diverged from reality pretty quickly). New fans were also being introduced to the band through fanfiction and seemed more intent on just spotting Ryden moments and learning the fanfic version of history rather than any real-life history. So by late 2008 there was definitely a small crowd who was taking Ryden more seriously and also understood less about the band. But I wasn't always sure if their tone was totally serious or not, because the joking posts had often been written in a serious tone too.

Side note on that: when I started this account in 2020 I hadn't thought about P!ATD much while I had been sick for years. I was just trying to throw myself back into the mindset of 2006 and rediscover a time when my world had been awesome & I was healthy. So when I saw all the sun/moon theories that had formed after I'd left the fandom I was like YES omg this is amazing. I lived for that kind of stuff. But then it was confusing how the same people who were currently posting all of the “ryden was real” stuff were the same ones who would quickly point out that another one of my Ryden posts wasn’t what really happened or that a photo manip that I considered fun was actually fake…  I mean, obviously??? I didn’t get why there was any difference between everything. It took me a few months to get a read on the current fandom and realize that things weren't being done in the same joking spirit. I started struggling to explain why I was posting Ryden-ish stuff if I didn’t necessarily believe what I was saying (and again I’m having a hard time explaining here because it never felt like the fandom was making up crap we didn’t stand behind back then! we were serious that we believed it was a darn good connection/theory or photoshop job haha). Ryden used to be like this shared alternate lens to view events through that felt like teamwork to create. We would intentionally pretend like years of full context didn't exist and create our own parallel narrative that could coexist with reality in our minds. But now it feels like people are sharing "Ryden proof" for real as though the piles of creative nonsense are an actual recap of historic events... and you need to pick some kind of "side" to believe? Idk, it's weird. I dropped any remaining nostalgia connected with Ryden content and ended up shifting the tone & focus of my account to organizing actual facts, media, and info about events I remember.

I don't think it's ok that moments in the band's history are often distorted or erased in order to pass off certain examples of “Ryden proof” as real now. It would be a shame for ridiculous Ryden stories to be prioritized as key info about the band while normal info about band members & events gets ignored now (ex: turning Northern Downpour into some kind of Ryden thing totally erases what Ryan wanted to do with the song). A lot of people have told me that they don’t care what actually happened because they prefer their ideas anyways. And that’s fine, as long as you’re aware that what you’re choosing doesn't track with reality. (Also, I always felt like knowing the real events or original photos from a manip gave me more appreciation for how creative people were… but I suppose that’s because Ryden was more about the fandom for me).

SIDE TANGENT: I drifted away from the fandom after summer 2009 when I got sick, so I don’t know specifically what happened over the next couple years to get so many fans who were impressively uninformed about the band yet super intense about Ryden at the same time... but I'm also not surprised I guess. Some knowledge about the band absolutely faded to the background in the last half of 2006 as the overwhelming amount of newer fans invented their own answers and were more interested in freaking out over cute guys than actually taking the time to learn about the band. The knowledge wasn't lost, it was just drowned out for a while in the midst of their enthusiastic chatter. It felt like a waste of time to correct them too because they were absolutely everywhere and they weren't really harming anyone by screaming things like Ryan took his mom as a date to the VMAs lol. Maybe there was a surge of younger fans by 2010-2011 who didn't have the context to know what they were looking at too, and were very enthusiastic about Ryden? I don't know. This is all purely speculation on my part.

I actually don't care whether anyone thinks Ryden was real or not... that's definitely not my focus and I'm not trying to convince anyone of a "side" either. You can conclude whatever you want. My focus in my posts is simply to provide context for some of the inaccurate stories & examples that are currently being passed around as though they're actual history. I don't expect anyone to care. But at least the info is still available for any younger fans who might be interested in the real-life band.

[snezus-christ-risen]

I couldn’t not invite Rosa to the fic reunion party. More B99, another spruced up old fic of yore that I missed and wanted to share here. There is almost male sneezing, and absolutely positively no female sneezing whatsoever unless you want to get gut punched by a former ballerina. 🩰

For their ten year friendaversary, Rosa took Jake to lunch in her car. Lunch was candy and convenience store coffee, so the ride was the real treat. Rosa never let anyone in her car - it was her first car, bought with her own money, so she cherished it even more than her bike. She would probably give Hitchcock a ride down the block before she let Jake in there for one second with his sticky toddler fingers. But today was special, she supposed, so she stocked up on baby wipes and made sure the passenger side seatbelt was still in working order.

"Nothing messy," she instructed him when they got to their favorite corner store. "Or blue."

"You do realize how much that limits my options," Jake said.

"You do realize I've been tolerating you for an entire decade and it can all stop today."

He looked at her like she'd taken his hand and placed it directly on a hot stove top. "Wow, Rosa... that was harsh."

"No blue," she repeated, unwavering.

Of course she wasn't surprised to find some frozen green and purple concoction in her cup holder ten minutes later. Leave it to Mr. Rules-Were-Made-To-Be-Broken to find a loophole. "Looks like someone put Barney in a blender," she deadpanned, eager to get back on the road. Jake had spent an unnecessary amount of time of perusing the candy bars and he didn't even get any.

"It's some crazy grape flavor," he said, after taking a sip and making a face. "Blue is my preference, but... you know."

"If a single drop of that touches any part of this car-"

"Hey, I'll be careful," he said, cutting her off before she could get to the scariest part of the threat. "It's my friendaversary gift to you."

"Wow, not having shit spilled all over my car," she said. "Just what I've always wanted."

She waited for an old couple to shuffle out of harm's way before throwing the car in reverse and pulling out of her parking spot. Jake was struggling to carefully open a pack of powdered donuts and almost dropped them as she turned a corner. Rosa nearly slammed the breaks when she saw them. "I thought I said nothing messy."

"I couldn't remember any rules beyond no blue because I was so devastated!” he exclaimed. "Besides, what's a friendaversary without donuts?"

He offered her one but she batted it away. "Stop saying that word. It's not even a word."

"What, friendaversary?"

Rosa closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Fortunately they were at a red light. She briefly considered kicking Jake out onto the sidewalk while they were stopped; instead she took a sip of coffee and privately threatened whatever deity or cruel weaver of fate thought it would be hilarious to put her and Jake together in the same realm of existence.

And yet, as irritating as he could be sometimes, she loved the guy. It was like having a dumb brother who teased and irritated the shit out of you but always backed you up; he felt more like a sibling to her than her actual sisters. He probably had no idea, because he still only knew the tip of iceberg when it came to her story after all these years, but theirs was the longest friendship she ever had, by far. Rosa never cared for her peers back in school, never felt like she fit in with her family, but she liked the people she had in her life now. As much as she cherished her lone wolf status, it was nice to know that she had people who had her back. And nobody had her back like Jake.

The thought brought a little smile to her face, one that quickly faded when she heard Jake start to cough and wheeze beside her. When she glanced at him questioningly he had tears in his eyes. There was powdered sugar on his hands and a half a mini donut partially crumbled on his lap.

"Inhaled a piece," he said with a strained cough, sounding slightly panicked. "It's in my lung."

She rolled her eyes. "Drink your ice thing and be careful, drama queen."

He took a long sip, then gave another choking cough into the crook of his arm. A thorough throat clearing seemed to force out the last of the irritation. "All clear," he said. "Order restored."

"Don't dust that off until you get out of the car." She stopped to look at him critically, then bit back a smile. "Your mouth is green."

"Why do you think I buy these things?"

"To ingest enough sugar to sustain a constant state of hyperactivity?"

"Okay, that's one of the reasons," he said, taking another sip. The straw looked like a small, plastic roller coaster; it looped about five times before plunging down into the colorful cup. She could see the blended Barney mixture slosh up and down the inside.

He cleared his throat again and Rosa heard him sniffle. It was just one of those noises to which she was particularly attuned, having heard it so often before. When she glanced at him he was turned towards the car door, his eyes focused out the window. He never told her but she knew he could sometimes help a sneeze along by looking at a light. The sun was particularly bright today, reflecting off the snow along the sidewalks to create a strong glare.

"Oh, another car rule," she said. "No sneezing. Especially not while holding colorful drinks."

Jake regained his focus long enough to look at her in disbelief. He opened his mouth to reply but then he turned away again, closing his eyes tight and pressing his knuckles against his nose. Rosa shook her head, grabbing the cup from his weakening grip and placing it carefully in the cup holder behind her coffee. “Okay, go ahead,” she said, picking up her own cup as she stared ahead. “I’m granting you special permission.”

She sipped her coffee and steered lazily, waiting patiently for Jake to take care of business. When she heard a plastic wrapper crinkling next to her she whipped her head around to glare at him, but he was just sitting there, fiddling with the sun visor. When he saw her looking he flashed her a grin. Rosa was confused, but pleased to see he had tucked the donuts away in his pocket for later. "I thought you had to sneeze," she said.

"It went away.”

"Huh."

Rosa took another pensive sip of coffee as they came up to another traffic light. There must have still been powdered sugar in the air, because out of nowhere her nose began to prickle. She barely had time to register the sensation before it drove out a sneeze so forceful she nearly bumped her forehead against the steering wheel. Something warm pooled near her crotch and for one terrifying moment she thought she may have actually pissed herself, but she was relieved to find it was just some coffee that had spilled from her cup. Relief turned to anger when she realized that Jake was laughing at her.

"Wait, so are you lifting the ban on sneezing?" he asked. "Because I can totally get that other guy back here. And what about the 'no mess' rule? It looks like you spilled a little somethi-"

She dumped her coffee out the window and chucked the empty cup at his head.

[gae-bug]

A slight hyper fixation is forming on the movie coco so here are some things I jotted down while rewatching it last night.

-We first see Dante next to a shop that sells a bunch of alebrijes

-miguel commenting on how cool de la curz’s guitar is And how his fav song is remember me little does he know that that's hectors guitar and the song he wrote for coco, also he knew they were connected in some way

-they keep up with the dimple only on one side thingy

-the talent of this kid for being able to make a functioning guitar from scraps lying around is fucking amazing, even if his shine for de la curz is a stong fire hazzard-

-learnt by just watching and hearing without actually being taught!!!?!?!?! Bro is insanely good

-"I'm gonna play even if it kills me!" The universe took that a Lil to literally lol

-oh Dante, he shall always be my favorite animal character in a movie

-the collective gasp

-at least Miguel's dad showed some sing of 'okay this is a little to far’ when she went to smash the gitaur

-the way he folds the picture the opposite way, so instead of Hector being the one left out its Imelda

-just casually stealing from the dead, smart move tho with the fire work.

-I like that the petals start to flicker

-how did people realize it was missing so fast bro

-"oh hey Miguel.….😨😨😨😨”

-the city in the land of the dead is so pretty but would also be terrifying as someone who is afraid of heights.

-Hector has no eyebrows, he does got some sick move tho

-I love that everybody's afraid of imelda lol

-imaging still having to work a service job in the after life-

-again Dante is my favorite

-Hector has a broken rib

-I also love Hector's confusion, he's like tf u mean that asshole has KIDSS!!!?!?!!?!??!

-Hector’s guitar has a golden tooth just like him!

-Dante being the best count like 15 lol

-would all these dancer s also get in legal trouble for faking unibrows or do they get a pass bc it was a celebrities idea?

-coresction, Hector had SEVERAL broken ribs.

-"what do you know" alot buddy, A LOT.

-bro took his femur, and DIDNT RETURN IT-

-okay, ik I said Hector had no eyebrows and that is true but basically nobody else really does either but it's more noticeable to me on Hector because of him taking off the fake eyebrows.

-the fucking detail on Miguels face, you can see his skin through the face paint as if it was real.

-the foreshadowing from looking at the shot glasses, one dunk, one still full.

-the nuns are also playing remember me before they even said that everybody is playing it

-one of his arm and one of his leg bones are also being held together by what I think is gauze? Idk it's blue it might be ribbon.

-I love hectors excitement when migeul stars playing poco loca, especially considering that it was most likely a song HE wrote about Imelda

-he called Miguel's musical fantasy stupid bc his got him killed.

-skeleton horses have been spotted, plus 10 points(I say as if I'm keeping a point counter lmao)

-him laughing and genuinely having fun with people who actually enjoyed his music

-he looks better as a skeleton low key- (de la cruz)

- yk there's a thing called stairs Miguel…

-the shock on del la curz’s face bc he knows he DID NOT have children, but he sees this as an opportunity to get more famous so he runs with it

- notice how he doesn't mention him leaving his family bc he didn't leave a family

-can't believe this dude has pools in the shape of the gitaur that he murdered his best friend for.

-he murdered his best friend, stole his guitar, stole his songs AND profited off his death by putting in a move and making himself seem like the victim in that situation.

-all Hector cares about is seeing his daughter one last time

-takes his guitar before Hector even hits the ground.

-when Imelda says I give you my blessing the petal lights up but when de la curz says it the petals stays normal

-as soon as de la curz is meant to be seen as the bad guy you see him in green and purple lighting, colors Disney like to use for villains.

-even though he is fading hectors first priority was comforting miguel

-THE DETAIL ON EVEN THE TINIEST OF THINGS BRO

-seeing Hector with skin is weird to me for some reason, maybe it's just because I'm so used to seeing him without it.

-Dante very well has over a hundred points for being the best at this point

-hector holding his hat like a sad wet cat.

-Imelda has earings but no ears-

-"she’s talking about me! I'm the love of your life!?" One of my favorite moments lol

-bro was stupid enough to keep the photo in his pocket.

-"I don't know what I said" "that's what I heard 🤭😏"

-'that's interesting yk why,’ 'why?' 'Because- *runs away*' seriously tho the run he does lmao

-this entire family got moves bro, and are also very good at avoiding the cops.

-I hate this fucking asshole

-YES! PUT HIM ON BLAST!!!!!!

-dont you fucking call him 'old freond' you fucking bitch

-yes boo him off the stage! Throw your tomatoes!!!!

-bell: 2 Ernesto: 0

-you can start to see Miguel's skull through his skin

-her earrings are just pierced through her cheekbones-

-he follows the petals home

-"not all of us" STOPPPPP.

-I'm glad they didn't try to make it seem like he was singing perfectly and instead had it so you can hear the tears in his voice

-it's dirty gauze and duct tape that's holding his bones together btw

- it's been a year and bro has not gotten better clothes.

Edit: ok hector actually did get some slightly better clothes I think but like they are very similar to his old clothes and seem a lot worse compared to the rest of his family’s

[wingless-thrush]

Impossibly Imperfect

(The following is an edited version of a personal blog originally posted on 10 May 2012.)

I lived in Asheville, North Carolina for a couple years while growing up, which is located in the mountainous western part of the state. Our neighborhood was perched on the side of Beaucatcher Mountain, and was comprised of a lot of hilly, windy streets. One particular neighborhood street was especially steep, with a sharp S-curve at the bottom of a long, straight hill. Just beyond the S-curve, the terrain dropped off dramatically into a rugged, wooded ravine. If the street had been a busier road, it would be one of those notorious stretches of highway that has a nickname like Death Hill or Blood Alley.

As it was, the street didn’t have very many houses on it and was lightly traveled by cars, so it became a favorite spot for us to play. I’d pull my red Radio Flyer wagon to the top of the hill, climb on board, and then ride at top speed down the hill, with the wind blowing in my face. The feeling of flying downhill was as ecstatic as the first big drop on a roller coaster, but was tempered with the very real danger of missing the curve, flying off the pavement, and ending up broken and bloodied at the bottom of the ravine.

The memory of flying down that hill in a Radio Flyer wagon at high speed, with a near-certain bloody and painful death at the bottom of the hill rapidly getting closer, has become somewhat of an unfortunate metaphor for my love life over the years. The whole realm of relationships and sexuality has been a very difficult one for me, and it’s not without a degree of hesitation that I write about it here.  While I do a pretty good job at maintaining close friendships with quite a few attractive women, things always seem to fall apart whenever there’s a hint of romantic feelings involved.

Part of it may have to do with the uptight Calvinist background I grew up in, where sexuality was hardly ever discussed except in the context of there apparently being far too much of it on television and in popular culture. And then there’s the fact that I was sexually abused as a child, by an older neighborhood kid who promised to allow me into his “club” if I performed certain acts down in the woods behind the house. Somehow my membership card to his secret club must have repeatedly gotten lost in the mail, because I kept having to go through the initiation process over and over again.

I'm also mildly autistic with some related mental health issues like anxiety and depression, and that no doubt plays a big role as well, even though I never knew I was on the spectrum until I was well into adulthood. Nowadays I can do a pretty good job of pretending I’m at least somewhat normal, but as a kid I was clueless. Nobody really had a name for my condition at that time; I just assumed I was a weird misfit due to some horrible character defect on my part. While my classmates were playing with their Transformers or G.I. Joe action figures, I was usually off in the corner sketching pictures of bridges and spaceships. A few years later when they were having their first sexual experiences, I was still sketching (slightly more refined) pictures of bridges and spaceships. It’s not that I didn’t have sexual feelings or wasn’t incredibly attracted to certain girls at school; it’s just that I was too chickenshit to actually act on those feelings. My classmates assumed I was gay or asexual, and bullied the living shit out of me accordingly. During bus rides home in 5th grade, a few of the popular kids would corner me in the back of the school bus and ask me invasive questions about my sexuality. If they didn’t like my answer, one of them would give me a swift punch in the stomach.

As you might imagine, relationships and sexuality – things that, in an ideal world, should be sources of joy and happiness for those involved – had come to be strongly associated with feelings of guilt, shame, rejection, and violence in my mind. When you crash the Radio Flyer wagon into the ravine too many times, you start to dread the idea of hauling it back up the hill for another ride.

Fast-forward to this past week, when a random bit of news during my workday brought back vivid memories of a time when I flew down that metaphorical hill way too fast, and ended up crashing into the ravine in a most spectacular manner.

As it turns out, a former crush of mine is getting married on Saturday, and not to me. You’d think I’d be over it after almost a decade, but this one really stung. For a few months in late 2002 and early 2003, “Jennifer” and I had developed what I considered a pretty deep long-distance relationship, which culminated in her flying to Philadelphia and meeting up with me during her spring break.

I’ve always had a pretty specific picture in my head of what my ideal partner is like, and it was uncanny just how close she came to that mental image, in a number of important ways: her intelligence, her emotional maturity, her overall great looks, and so forth. Nobody else before or since then has come quite so close to my idealized version of Miss Right. I was much more religious back then than I am now, and I was convinced she was the gift from God that I had been praying for almost my entire life.

I’ve always been drawn to the unique and unusual. In a neighborhood full of bland McMansions, I’m the guy who would buy something like the Mushroom House. Whenever I’d get a handful of candy corn around Halloween, I’d always pick out the mutant pieces and eat them first, because they were special and stood out from the others. I was somehow convinced this made them taste better.

Likewise, for as long as I can remember I’ve been fascinated by and found beauty in people with certain unique physical characteristics – even something as relatively minor as having a pair of webbed toes – but particularly with people who are missing one or more limbs, either by birth or through circumstances later in life. Jennifer wasn’t the first amputee I’d felt romantic feelings toward, and she likely won’t be the last. The first crush I ever had was toward Carol Johnston, a gymnast who was born without part of her right arm. Her story was the subject of a Disney film I saw on TV while growing up, and I was enthralled with the shape and movement of her partial arm, which ended with a small, round stump just below her elbow. (Carol is almost old enough to be my mother, but she appeared much closer to my age in the film, which had been produced a number of years before I saw it.) Jennifer was completely armless, not unlike Simona Atzori, an Italian artist and dancer who was also born without arms. No stumps or even scars, just perfectly smooth shoulders where a pair of arms would normally begin. Her use of her feet for daily tasks was as fluid and natural as most people’s use of their hands. I’d gladly pick somebody like her over any number of plastic-looking supermodels.

There’s a lot more to it than just the physical attraction, though. What I find equally appealing is the fact that people like Jennifer have a unique story to tell, that they know what it’s like to be different and to overcome obstacles. My favorite people in the world are those who strive to overcome life’s challenges with grace and humor, and who embrace their own uniqueness. This might be the one element that all my closest friends have in common, regardless of how many limbs they have.

An army of therapists could spend countless hours speculating on all the reasons why I have these feelings, and still not come up with a satisfactory answer. I wouldn’t really call it a fetish, although sexual attraction is certainly one part of it. I’ve always felt different throughout my life, and I think maybe I find a kindred spirit in somebody who is as different on the outside as I am on the inside, and who has spent a lifetime overcoming obstacles and dealing with other people’s stares and clueless comments, as well as more mundane things like a lack of wheelchair ramps or doorknobs that are difficult to grasp. To be clear, the attraction has nothing at all to do with any hardship or suffering that comes with being an amputee. I’ve had a few close friends over the years who are amputees, and I wouldn’t wish those phantom pains, ongoing medical issues, or the cost of a prosthetic limb on anybody.

As you might imagine, being attracted to amputees brings forth a lot of conflicted feelings that include heavy doses of shame and guilt. Pop culture values physical perfection to an obscene level, and people don’t like to be reminded that they might someday lose a leg in a car accident, or give birth to a child that has less than ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. Veterans who lose limbs in combat are either swept under the rug and ignored by the people who sent them into combat in the first place, or are maybe put onto a pedestal and briefly worshipped as folk heros – but never portrayed as the guy next door who lost his legs and a couple of close friends to a roadside bomb, and who still has nightmares about it. But I didn’t choose to have this attraction any more than Jennifer chose to be born without arms, and I reject the notion that I should beat myself up over an aspect of my psyche that I never willingly signed up for.

Soon after high school, my family got a computer, and I was introduced to this new thing called the Internet for the first time. After dialing in to AOL and doing a couple of creative searches (I’m really dating myself here), I soon discovered that I’m not the only person who has this attraction; people like me are typically referred to as devotees within the community. (The phenomenon also has a very dry technical term: Acrotomophilia.) Personally, I find the terminology inadequate – the term admirer has also been tossed around, which I find more apt – but for better or worse, devotee seems to be the accepted label.

How do amputees typically feel about this attraction? Opinions vary widely. Some find it very flattering and liberating; a common sentiment is that it’s nice to be seen as an attractive woman with no caveats, as opposed to being seen as attractive despite a disability. Others find it extremely repulsive and threatening, feeling that devotees are getting their jollies from what for many amputees is the most painful and traumatic episode of their lives. Most amputees’ feelings probably fall somewhere between those two extremes, perhaps accepting of the attraction despite some reservations. As a gross generalization, my experience is that amputees who were born that way tend to be more accepting of the attraction than those who lost a limb later in life due to trauma or disease. It’s a very controversial issue within online support groups and other amputee-related communities, with very passionate feelings on all sides of the issue. The purpose of this post isn’t to change anybody’s mind about it, but to simply articulate my own feelings.

Back in the 90’s there used to be a small online community of devotees and devotee-friendly amputees, mostly on IRC and an email listserv. There were even occasional real-life gatherings, and a number of marriages have come from those meetings. With a fairly intimate community it was easier to keep the predatory elements away, of which there are unfortunately quite a few. In the amputee-devotee subculture, the bad apples usually consist of guys who get off on some sort of power trip by being with somebody they perceive as helpless, or people who live out their fantasies by pretending to be amputees online.

Unfortunately, with the explosion in social media such as MySpace and then Facebook over the past few years, what used to be a fairly tight-knit and self-policing internet subculture has become a free-for-all, with some devotees pursuing amputees with all the grace and chivalry of the Nazgûl pursuing the One Ring, and ruining it for those who have better social skills and more honest intentions. There are still some vestiges of the old community left, but it’s a pretty small and isolated group with relatively little in the way of new blood.

I know of a number of amputee/devotee couples who couldn’t be happier. I also know of devotees who have gone their entire lives without finding their ideal partner to settle down with, and I know of others who ultimately married non-amputees only to find themselves depressed and frustrated, and their marriages failing. As for myself, it certainly makes things difficult because my ideal dating pool is a tiny fraction of the general population. I can go months or years at a time before seeing an attractive female amputee out in public, and the whole online scene is a crapshoot. On the rare occasion I see an attractive amputee out in public and I fail to make any kind of meaningful contact with her (which is almost always the case – I universally err on the side of keeping a respectful distance and doing nothing, rather than annoying her with any awkward advances), it can haunt me for months or years after the fact.

Mind you, I’m still very attracted to able-bodied women as well. The longest relationship I’ve had so far was with somebody who wasn’t an amputee, and I don’t regret a minute of it. But in looking for a long-term relationship or marriage, I face a bit of a dilemma. When I was in that relationship, there was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wasn’t being true to my feelings and that I was “settling” for something that was less than my ideal, and I was overcome with feelings of guilt. I didn’t feel like I was being fair to either her or myself. Nobody likes to be told they’re a second choice.

Jennifer seemed flattered by my unusual form of attention, and I was thrilled with the idea that after so much longing and searching, I had finally found somebody to share my life with. But the day after she arrived in town and we first met face-to-face, she called me up at work just a couple hours before we were supposed to meet again, and slammed the brakes on any notion of a relationship. She never did give a clear reason, but seemed to imply that she wasn’t ready for a relationship and that the chemistry didn’t feel right.

On one level it was understandable, as there was a pretty significant age difference between us, we had different backgrounds and ambitions, and lived a couple thousand miles apart. At that moment on the phone, though, I felt like a bomb had just been detonated within my already-fragile psyche. I blame myself for getting my hopes up too high in the first place, but that euphoric feeling of being head-over-heels in love was incredible while it lasted. For a brief few weeks, I felt like I was racing downhill in that Radio Flyer wagon, and the S-curve and ravine were no longer a threat. I haven’t experienced anything like it since then, and part of me wonders if I ever will.

She said she wanted to remain friends, and held out the idea that maybe sometime in the future, things might work out between us. But it never happened. The phone calls and online chats became less frequent, and then stopped altogether. My greetings went unanswered, and after a lot of heartbreak and depression on my part, I eventually moved on. She became somewhat of a minor media celebrity with her motivational speaking gigs and other accomplishments, and I continued quietly making slow but steady progress toward my academic and professional goals.

I had pretty much put that episode out of my mind until now, but learning that she’s getting married this week brought it all back. In all honesty, I wish her the best, and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, I can now look back and see about a million reasons why things never would have worked out between us. As painful as it was for me, she probably did the right thing by breaking it off sooner rather than later.

So now I’m spilling my guts here, mainly just to get it off my chest and hopefully gain some catharsis, but also to shed some insight into an aspect of my life that, until now, I’ve kept pretty private. No doubt some parts of this blog entry dove pretty far into TMI territory for some, but I’m hoping the benefits outweigh any negative blowback. A few of my closest friends already know about this side of me, and seem generally accepting of it, even if it’s impossible for them to fully understand it.

One of my resolutions for the new year was to try and let go of some emotional baggage that I’ve been carrying around my neck like an albatross, and this is part of that process. With people all over the country being denied equal rights and bullied to the point of suicide because of who they love, it seems hypocritical for me to champion their rights while keeping my own sexual proclivities safely tucked away in the closet, out of danger. Maybe some good will come of this blog post, and there may be some negative consequences as well. But I think I’ve reached the point where I’m finally willing to stop living in fear of the what-if scenarios, and to let the chips fall where they may.

[tyforthevnm]

MCR Interview - April 9, 2002

Source: wertica_ on LiveJournal

This was MCR's first EVER interview, it was for Snagglezine - a New Jersey fanzine run by two Eyeball Records interns (Kim and Chris). I think this was done April 9th 2002 after a show in Garfield, NJ.

M: I'm Michael Way, I play the bass guitar. G: I'm Gerard Way, I'm the singer. K: You're biggest influences? G: Iron Maiden. M: The Smiths. G: At the Gates, Brit pop, Blur, Morrisey, shit like that. Like metal, like melodic metal. We're all about it, like Helloween, big influences. M: Oh yeah. Keeper of the Seven Keys. G: You can't hear any of our influences in our music though but it's there. M: It's subconsciously in the music, but nobody else can pick it up unless you're looking for it, you can't really pick on what's there. K: We hear that you just signed to Eyeball (Records). How's it feel to be signed to such a great label? G: We're fucking really excited. M: It's so excellent. G: I've know Alex for a while, I probably shouldn't say that, Alex is fucking great. M: ..and an amazing human being. We've known him and he took care of fucking Thursday and we were psyched about that, but not only that, we were really psyched to be with Pencey Prep because those kids fuckin helped us out right from the start. They gave us their tour van when we needed it, they gave us their fuckin tour van! Hambone gave us the tour van and fuckin cause they're getting a new one and they gave us a spot in their practice studio that we share with them, so we share a practice studio with them. C: Yeah Alex got us our first interview, Thursday. M: Yeah I remember, I was right there. No, but it's great cause it's like a family, we all hang out all the time, it's amazing. G: We can't hang out with Thursday as much as we'd like to cause they're always on tour which is gonna happen to all our bands now. K: Favorite bands to play with and favorite venue? G: Pencey (Prep). M: So far it's just Pencey (Prep) but the Loop (Lounge) was hot. G: But the Loop, even though they don't let kids in which sucks, I don't like that 21 and over stuff, but it had great sound. M: Yeah, there's like a professional sound guy. G: But this place (Garfield American Legion) had great sound. C: CBGB'S had good sound for Thursday. M: Oh the Piebald one? C: Yeah. G: Oh I want to play there. C: It's good. M: So far we only played about 5 shows, out of 5 shows, the Loop was the best. G: And we got an encore there. M: Yeah people were calling for an encore. K: That's awesome, we've never been there. Have you guys played in any bands before? G: Me and Mikey had this band called Raygun Jones and we were like, you know, really young and he was the bass player back then too. We had a female bass player and she just dropped out so we just put a bass on Mikey pretty much the same way we did this time. We put a bass on him and said play. We trained him. M: Yeah exactly. It's like I normally play guitar but like my brother came up to me with the material and I was just so blown away that I had to join. I was like, "I don't care what I play" and "I have to be in this somehow". G: He really filled out our band. We had a good vibe going anyway but then when he was in it, it clicked. And that's why, the way you saw us play out there today, we weren't playing like that until Mikey was playing tight with us and joining. K: How long have you guys been established and what was your reason for starting a band? G: The band, uh, me and Otter really got together in November, I believe, and the real reason we established it was because it has a lot to do with the September 11th attack. I was on my way to get ready for a Cartoon Network meeting because I do cartoons and stuff and he had that option. We saw the plane hit right from the train and when we got there we were all just standing on the pier in Hoboken like right on the edge. There's like 300 people that were friend and family and we all saw it go down. That's when I realized that doing this cartoon was bullshit, I love to draw and make art but it was so commercial, it was just that I felt like having meetings with people in suits, it just made me realize what the hell I'm doing with my life. That's what our 1st song that we always open with "Skylines and Turnstyles" is about. It's about the Trade Center. C: Although I'm a big fan of the Cartoon Network and like 3 in the afternoon in your pajamas... G: Yeah but dealing with them is not fun. That actually got it and everyone like came together through the music. It's like therapy. K: How did you get the name and does it imply that you guys are quite the partiers? M & G: Hahaha Oh!!! G: We used to call Mike "Mikey Party" but now he's "Mikey Romance". K: That's how we met you! M: Yeah it was at a party. G: It's like 11 different meanings for the band. You can take them anywhere. On a personal level, for me, it's about anti-depressants. I was like so depressed about a year ago and I just wanted to cut my fuckin face off. It's also like a reference to Irvine Welsh and his books. M: All his books are like classified as Chemical Romances. It's like love stories where there's like drugs involved. C: Yeah, I went to google to see if you guys had a site and all his stuff came up. M: Yup yup, Irvine Welsh. Now there's only 2 people so far that picked up on that. Two people were like "Whoa, you mean like Irvine Welsh?". But it's a personal level, like we took the name and we brought it to a personal level. G: Yeah it really means for me anti-depressants. Like we drink beer and shit... M: We like to party. K & C: Hell yeah. G: We drink and party, we rock and roll man. K: Yeah, the most "un-edge" name, right? G: We don't like do drugs though. C: You're not my friend then. (haha, he's kidding). M: Yeah we don't need drugs to have a good time. :: Gerard announces slumber party and that guitar player takes guitar to a whole new level because he has a gash and is bleeding:: K: One more serious one, what do you guys think of the sudden outburst of bands on indie labels such as Thursday, Phantom Planet, Hot Water Music, and Rival Schools being played on MTV2 and MTVX? G: I think, I always thought this because I've been an artist with comics from that whole scene too. Anything from the underground eventually makes its way up. It's like something underground, it's new and fresh and it's eventually gonna make its way up to the tv. It's bound to happen, it happens with everything. Nirvana is the best example of it and I think that's what's gonna happen with Jersey and I think it's gonna be great. M: I think it's like survival of the fittest cause like whoever's doing it for the right reasons is gonna survive and whoever's doing it for the wrong reasons is gonna get chopped and fried and we all know who's doing it for the right reasons. C: Yeah we know. Do you guys like Dragon Tales? G: We're Lord of the Rings fans. M: No, he's talking about the cartoon. C: ...on PBS. G: The only exposure I have with Dragon Tales is that little kids come in and ask for the cd @ B & N. C: Best Valentine's gift you ever got? G: I'm about to get one right now but I haven't seen it yet. Shit. I haven't really gotten any. I got roses, I love roses so a girl got me roses. That was pretty cool. M: You know what, I can't even remember getting one because there hasn't been a powerful female outlet in my life to give me a Valentine's day gift. So there's no Valentine's day gift I can remember. C: No little candy hearts from grandma or mom or anything like I usually get? M: No way! K: You got frogs this year. M: You're lucky dude. C: Yeah I got frogs from her. Disney character that most represents you? M: Donald Duck. G: Yeah Mike dressed up like Donald Duck in 2nd grade. M: It was a fuckin rad costume, my grandma made it. G: It was fuckin hot and then the next year he dressed up as a stay puff marshmallow. M: And it was also really hot. G: Mr. Toad. C: Would you guys ever cover "The Lady Is A Tramp" by Frank Sinatra? M: It could be done. G: Could we do that? M: It could totally be done. G: Yeah I could see us doing that. M: Cause Frankie's awesome. G: What about doing a Dean Martin or a Sammy? M: Those guys knew how to party man. C: The Rat Pack. G: The Sans Crew. Vegas man. We want to bring Hambone with us cause he always wins on slots. M: He's the King of Slots. ::tangent on Hambone:: Other members not in interview: Otter (Matt)->drums Ray Toro->guitar, phenomenal Thanks to Mike and Gerard, we love you guys, you rock!

[cynicallyscorned]

Ship Bias!!

5 ships i'm biased about for my muse! ( accepting. )

and the #1 contender is... shocking nobody,

Sonic X Cynic.

listen. okay. when i first conceptualized cynic, I went in with absolutely no expectations when it came to ships. the goal was just to play a version of sonic that was fun to hate with a warped idea of self image and right and wrong. I was not expecting cynonic (and every variation it can come in) to be one of the main OTPs here. Tbh I didn't even care much for dupe-shipping since part of me thought it was a lil weird, and the other part just had no experience w the concept. enter my friend Jeremy, who came up with an AU sonic on the spot as I was sharing a bit of info about cynic that is basically the polar opposite to his rugged bad boi persona. a couple impromptu improv charming exchanges between them later and I was sold LMFAO. I haven't been the same since. and since then I've developed such a soft spot for the idea of this traumatized lil rat learning to become...okay with himself and who he is and come away from the darkness through Sonic's help. (frankly, sonic being such a strong influence in the other character's life in a positive way has always been one of my favorite things abt his pairings) I've adored every interaction he's had with every sonic! platonic, romantic, sibling like, enemies -- it does not matter to me. it will always fascinate me and I will always get a kick out of writing this guy's complicated and messy feelings abt his alternates because it's always so unique every time.

Shadow X Cynic.

I'LL BE REAL CHIEF. the OG plan was so far away from this pairing. I came up with cynic during a period where sonadow had been a bit soured for me due to bad rp experiences. part of the way I established cynic and his dynamic with his own shadow from his dimension was a little influenced by this fact. WITH THAT SAID - I've been completely sold on the pairing I have going with seiko's shadow (@somewhereinchaos) because it's like a completely different spin on sonadow. at first it just seems like two edgy moody assholes that somehow get along but then the nuance and actual sonadow undertones start coming out as their relationship develops. cynic and shadow are quite similar and they find comradery in their shared grievances with the world - yet at the same time also have strongly different personalities and they manage to strike an unexpected balance of lifting each other up and leaning on one another for support. I love that cynic brings out a soft and emotionally consoling side of seiko's shadow that had nearly been forgotten, while shadow brings out more of the heart and passion that makes cynic A sonic! its so fascinating... their relationship has also made me fall in love with sonadow all over again and I just care them so very much. 🙏

Scourge X Cynic.

You are strongly responsible for this brainrot turning into a full fledged otp because I was not prepared for how much these two would have me in a choke hold HDGLJ. like, I already knew cynic would think scourge is cool, that he'd have a person crush on him. I've said before while describing him that cynic is of a similar concept to scourge if he just never changed his identity. radical differences aside, they both understand what it feels like to be told (indirectly or otherwise) that they are inherently wrong and their version of 'sonic-ing' is bad. but where cynic desperately clings onto his identity as sonic with a struggling grip, scourge cast that life aside and became something bigger. that suggestion is so dangerously tempting to cynic as it is painfully relatable, to embrace your worst side because it's 'all you'll ever be.' BUT BESIDES ALL THAT - it ALSO is in a hilarious yet tragic way, a dark spin on cynonic. scourge has all the personality traits of sonic that pull you in, make you wanna like him, which is.. infectious to cynic. they are doomed by the narrative but you still can't help but go 'aww' when scourge gets cynic to laugh or when they riff off each other in their dumb competitive natures.

Surge x Cynic.

THIS ONE CAME COMPLETELY OUT OF LEFT FIELD FOR ME BUT I AM NORMAL. ok, maybe not normal. I haven't caught up on IDW since reading the first issue for imposter syndrome so there's stuff I'm missing here -- but the bottom line is @synnrrgy's surge has wormed her way into cynic's tiny little brain and he is down bad. they somehow bonded through beating the shit out of each other and sharing that same brash attitude, not to mention their mutual dislike for sonic and feeling the inferiority complex. they are the kind of pairing where one part of the ship is always pushing each other's buttons and vice versa but still can bond over doing dumb and reckless shit. what's more, cynic is hopelessly drawn to dysfunction, and still has that deep seeded ache to help people deep down. the situation surge is in with starline aches my HEART because it seriously brings out the desperation cynic has to protect the ppl he cares about, making him pull a complete 180 to the closed off and aloof demeanor he usually has. and the memory loss.. augh. I love me a good angsty antag pair that motivates one part of ship to try to be the 'hero'

Blaze x Cynic.

THIS ONE.. KINDA JUST HAPPENED and it's not exactly the setting you'd expect either. in the TBC au ive mentioned dozens of times on this blog, cynic who is a misunderstood outcast at school develops a crush on @warraigoe 's blaze, and due to tragic circumstances leads to them both being put in a position where they have to sorta set aside any growing feelings so they can prioritize 'leading' the one standing force against CHORUS tech. blaze is both cynic's rock and also someone he trusts to watch his back, but she is also nearing dangerously close to hosting age (essentially when a teenager comes of age and falls victim to the brainwashing hive mind psychic force known as the Song. it's like an invisible illness that comes for almost everyone at some point in this verse) and so cynic is deeply afraid of losing her too. it's another very doomed by the narrative pairing and it's their softer moments with each other that just makes all the upsetting things that end up happening to them hit even harder. in another life they are happier and able to maybe get a chance to actually enjoy each other's time without the threat of inescapable doom bearing down on them...

[rachelsnotebook]

Holiday Journey

I never knew a holiday could break.

For years things went by predictably: dinner at one, three rounds of tug-of-war over the TV, and silent prayers that this wouldn’t be the year someone snapped, again.

It may have been strange and stressful, but that was home.

As it was happening... I had no idea the memory I was gently holding onto and storing away as my new favorite was actually the last stop before I got lost and fell to the worst rock bottom of my life, so far.

In a rare change of events, I had plans one holiday weekend that took me several hours away from my usual spot on the couch. Understandably, I was psyched to catch up with my friends I hadn’t seen in ages.

My mature, twenty-something year old self was practically bouncing out of my grandparents’ house, wanting it to be the next day already. On the way out, my grandpa decided to make my treat bag that year. Like any sane person, I prioritized crescent rolls over nearly all other holiday foods so it became an unofficial tradition that I was given a part of what was left in the bread basket at the end of the night.

Most years my grandma would piece it together. And she wasn’t exactly secretive that it was because she needed to make sure she kept exactly the treats she wanted. That year her voice carried across the living room and pierced through the wall into the kitchen while my grandpa hurried to throw the bag together. It didn’t matter that she could barely see what was even happening. I know she was ready to go to war over that platter of brownies.

Unfazed, my grandpa brushed off her raised voice and shrugged how nobody wanted her chocolate. And he was right. My sights were set on the crescent rolls.

He turned and handed me a stuffed, zipped bag with strict orders to bring it with me that next day. We both knew depending on traffic that the long drive could be even longer and I’d need these supplies.

And I did. The glass nearly splintered the second I screeched with joy when I discovered the brownies he carefully hid among all the flaky, bread goodness.

There were many things he left unsaid over the course of his life, and oftentimes he purposely kept his hearing aid turned off just so he could have peace in his own home, but the true extent of his feelings could always be found in actions. Like this one.

Or the time he equipped me like an assassin with the amount of knives he bought for my college apartment.

Or how he gave me a real metal hammer, but a perfect size for my five year old hand.

Or how we’d pass books back and forth for the majority of my life as a book club of two.

That final book ended up being one of my favorite childhood stories. It brought me joy when I was small and afraid of the dark. I hoped the magic would bring him comfort while he was in the hospital. His bookmark took up residence three chapters in. I read around it last time.

If he was there that next Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or Easter… I honestly can’t remember anymore. The brain is an unusual thing. When it’s hurt, it eats away so much more than anyone ever warns you about.

It wasn’t long before the holidays stopped altogether.

My grandma decided she was done cooking, but she also didn’t want anyone else to do it. The phone began to ring less. The car kept falling apart. And the cracks grew until the whole thing shattered.

Holding onto the pieces, it’s difficult not to let my mind return to that last time everything felt okay. It almost feels like I’m tethered to that old memory, watching the world roll by the car window. A sense of home pulling me down the road. I keep thinking to myself that maybe one day I'll reach my destination, and there will be something worth celebrating when I get there.

Author's Notes:

I'll be honest...I still don't know what to make of this one.

My nephew is turning five soon, so that means this mother's day marks the Five Year anniversary of my grandpa's passing. I've been struggling to put my feelings into words since then. I can't explain why. No one has ever asked me to do this, but each winter I find myself here: a jumble of thoughts, a bitter taste in my mouth, an anger and feeling of loss I don't understand how to navigate.

I was mid way through my Thanksgiving, which consisted of a bag of potato chips and watching A Christmas Story on loop, when I began throwing thoughts down in a note app on my phone. Over the next several weeks I picked, and poked until I couldn't look at this string of words anymore.

I wanted to share this before Christmas, and then before the New Year. I'll take 2am on February 1st. This is a part of my journey, and maybe next winter I'll find a bit more peace revisiting this stop.

///

This piece has been reworked for this posting, but originally posted on February 1st, 2023 at rachelsnotebook.wixsite.com

[my-weird-news]

🔥 VMAs 2023: Epic Performances, Hot Nominees & More!

MTV's Musical Extravaganza Returns to Jersey, Baby! Cue the glitter, cue the drama, cue the questionable fashion choices! It's that time of the year again, folks – the MTV Video Music Awards are swooping back to Newark, New Jersey's Prudential Center for the 2023 awards show. Get ready to witness music's biggest stars strut their stuff on the red carpet, where fashion statements range from "I'm fabulous" to "I'm trying my best, okay?" Traditionally, this shindig happens at the tail-end of August, but hold onto your sequined hats because this year, they decided to be fashionably late. Yep, the VMAs are rolling into town in mid-September, just to keep us all on the edge of our seats. Jake Reynolds, the Prudential Center's President (and unofficial air-kisser), assured us that even with this schedule shuffle, the "entertainment industry's peepers" will be glued to the event. Trust me, folks, if there's one thing Jake knows, it's peepers. He declared this spectacle to be a musical globe-trot, allowing us to cheer for our favorite tunes from all over the world. It's like the Olympics of music, minus the sweatpants. Jake had his speaking cap on, and he went on to gush, "We're giddy about partnering up with MTV – you know, the music channel that occasionally plays music – and getting ready for a night that'll make your socks dance right off!" Seriously, who needs socks when you've got these moves? Now, let's talk throwbacks. The VMAs have been around since '84, and let me tell you, it's been one heck of a rollercoaster. Remember when Taylor Swift and Kanye West went at it in '09? Classic. Or how about Nicki Minaj and Miley Cyrus's showdown in '15? They were flinging metaphors like confetti! And guess what? Nobody has a crystal ball big enough to predict what mess the 2023 show will conjure up. But hey, as long as there's drama, glitter, and maybe a llama, I'm game! Hold onto your hats, your cat's hat, and your grandma's hat, because this soirée is going to be lit. You'll spot more stars than at an alien invasion – think Video of the Year, Artist of the Year, Best New Artist, and a bunch of others. It's like the Oscars, but with fewer tuxedos and more neon. Get Ready to Rock, Jersey Style! Drumroll, please! The 2023 VMAs are dropping onto your screens on Tuesday, September 12, at 8 p.m. ET. Yep, time to get your snacks and sassy remarks ready. New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy is doing cartwheels in excitement because, as he put it, "the VMAs coming back is like a seal of approval for Jersey's ability to host mega-sized shindigs." Who needs the Big Apple when you've got the Big Tomato? It's a Swift Invasion! Taylor Swift is leading the nominee pack with eight nods. Eight! Somebody needs to check if her closet has enough shelf space. SZA's not lagging far behind, scooping up six nominations. Then there's a whole posse – Doja Cat, Kim Petras, Miley Cyrus, Nicki Minaj, Olivia Rodrigo, and Sam Smith – all decked out with five nominations each. It's like a musical version of a competitive potluck dinner. And, hold your breath, we have 35 first-time nominees! Fresh blood, new faces – think Kim Petras, Ice Spice (not to be confused with Pumpkin Spice), Reneé Rapp, FLETCHER, and more. It's like the cool kids' club just got bigger and more stylish. Let the Show Begin – Cue the Glitter Cannons! You want a performance? You got it! The first batch of party animals hitting the stage includes Demi Lovato (in a feather boa, I hope), Karol G (is she bringing tacos?), Italy's Måneskin (they've got the hair to make us stare), and the K-Pop sensation Stray Kids. It's like a musical buffet, and I'm here with my plate ready! And the Host Is...? Hold the phone, MTV forgot to pass on the memo! They're keeping the host's identity locked tighter than my diary in middle school. But hey, who needs a host when the music is the real star? Watch the Magic Unfold! Set your alarms, prepare the popcorn, and maybe dust off your dance moves that you've been practicing since last year's VMAs. The extravaganza goes live on MTV at 8 p.m. ET. It's like prom night for the music world – except you don't have to worry about getting a date. Let the VMAs sweep you off your feet, dazzle your eyeballs, and remind you that life's just a little better with a sprinkle of glitter and a whole lot of music. 🎶🎤🕺🏼# MTV's Musical Extravaganza Returns to Jersey, Baby! Cue the glitter, cue the drama, cue the questionable fashion choices! It's that time of the year again, folks – the MTV Video Music Awards are swooping back to Newark, New Jersey's Prudential Center for the 2023 awards show. Get ready to witness music's biggest stars strut their stuff on the red carpet, where fashion statements range from "I'm fabulous" to "I'm trying my best, okay?" Traditionally, this shindig happens at the tail-end of August, but hold onto your sequined hats because this year, they decided to be fashionably late. Yep, the VMAs are rolling into town in mid-September, just to keep us all on the edge of our seats. Jake Reynolds, the Prudential Center's President (and unofficial air-kisser), assured us that even with this schedule shuffle, the "entertainment industry's peepers" will be glued to the event. Trust me, folks, if there's one thing Jake knows, it's peepers. He declared this spectacle to be a musical globe-trot, allowing us to cheer for our favorite tunes from all over the world. It's like the Olympics of music, minus the sweatpants. Jake had his speaking cap on, and he went on to gush, "We're giddy about partnering up with MTV – you know, the music channel that occasionally plays music – and getting ready for a night that'll make your socks dance right off!" Seriously, who needs socks when you've got these moves? Now, let's talk throwbacks. The VMAs have been around since '84, and let me tell you, it's been one heck of a rollercoaster. Remember when Taylor Swift and Kanye West went at it in '09? Classic. Or how about Nicki Minaj and Miley Cyrus's showdown in '15? They were flinging metaphors like confetti! And guess what? Nobody has a crystal ball big enough to predict what mess the 2023 show will conjure up. But hey, as long as there's drama, glitter, and maybe a llama, I'm game! Hold onto your hats, your cat's hat, and your grandma's hat, because this soirée is going to be lit. You'll spot more stars than at an alien invasion – think Video of the Year, Artist of the Year, Best New Artist, and a bunch of others. It's like the Oscars, but with fewer tuxedos and more neon. Get Ready to Rock, Jersey Style! Drumroll, please! The 2023 VMAs are dropping onto your screens on Tuesday, September 12, at 8 p.m. ET. Yep, time to get your snacks and sassy remarks ready. New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy is doing cartwheels in excitement because, as he put it, "the VMAs coming back is like a seal of approval for Jersey's ability to host mega-sized shindigs." Who needs the Big Apple when you've got the Big Tomato? It's a Swift Invasion! Taylor Swift is leading the nominee pack with eight nods. Eight! Somebody needs to check if her closet has enough shelf space. SZA's not lagging far behind, scooping up six nominations. Then there's a whole posse – Doja Cat, Kim Petras, Miley Cyrus, Nicki Minaj, Olivia Rodrigo, and Sam Smith – all decked out with five nominations each. It's like a musical version of a competitive potluck dinner. And, hold your breath, we have 35 first-time nominees! Fresh blood, new faces – think Kim Petras, Ice Spice (not to be confused with Pumpkin Spice), Reneé Rapp, FLETCHER, and more. It's like the cool kids' club just got bigger and more stylish. Let the Show Begin – Cue the Glitter Cannons! You want a performance? You got it! The first batch of party animals hitting the stage includes Demi Lovato (in a feather boa, I hope), Karol G (is she bringing tacos?), Italy's Måneskin (they've got the hair to make us stare), and the K-Pop sensation Stray Kids. It's like a musical buffet, and I'm here with my plate ready! And the Host Is...? Hold the phone, MTV forgot to pass on the memo! They're keeping the host's identity locked tighter than my diary in middle school. But hey, who needs a host when the music is the real star? Watch the Magic Unfold! Set your alarms, prepare the popcorn, and maybe dust off your dance moves that you've been practicing since last year's VMAs. The extravaganza goes live on MTV at 8 p.m. ET. It's like prom night for the music world – except you don't have to worry about getting a date. Let the VMAs sweep you off your feet, dazzle your eyeballs, and remind you that life's just a little better with a sprinkle of glitter and a whole lot of music. 🎶🎤🕺🏼 Read the full article

[ginshu-eura]

About the Author: Aura Situation

Let me explain this from the beginning so as not to confuse anyone.

My unconscious mind moves at a rapid pace— much faster than what my subconscious and conscious mind can interpret. When I meet a person, my unconscious brain immediately flashes an entirely different world in my head, one that appears to behave and move in an accordance to that person's emotions. This can cause me to fall dead silent in real life, considering the abrupt increase in sensory stimuli.

However, due to my conscious and subconscious mind's demand to "stay in the real world", this aura immediately turns into fog, which soon disappears through time. That is, unless that person experiences an emotion strong enough to bring back the opacity of the aura.

The same applies with sound. If my conscious mind is required to focus (which is almost always), the aura fades into a translucent fog-like state, even when I'm wearing headphones. The only way I can make it more opaque is if I raise the volume. For brief and loud noises, however, I don't have much of a choice. If someone honks a horn, a flash of bright red will block off my entire field of vision, and it's gonna take about a few more seconds for me to fully regain my sight.

I consider explanation to be the hardest part of this complex phenomenon— mostly because my descriptions change in accordance to what I'm focusing on. Think of it as a class looking at an image in a museum. Some may be complimenting the artist's style, while others may be more focused on the symbolisms behind the image. (Meanwhile, there are the certain few who are cackling at the image of a man's ding-a-ling.)

The same occurs in my case. As a person's personality changes, their aura changes along with it. As my perspective of the song changes, its aura changes along with it. This is why I'm so protective of my favorite songs— when somebody close to me applies their own perspective of the song, it will automatically affect the way I see it. Once it changes, it's going to take me forever to get it back.

Hence why I can't defend myself when I learned some songs before Tiktok ever existed, because nobody even knew I knew it (*loud cough* "Still Into You")

I don't have the abilities to control what I see, but I can limit how much stimuli I'm getting from it (unless it's too extreme for me to fight back, such as when there's a serious argument in the room). Everyone around me has an excessively hard time with me primarily because I zone out almost all the time due to sensory overload, so I'm trying my best to fix it.

And in the process of doing so, I am studying how certain personalities and sounds display themselves as auras. Right now, I'm currently using MBTI and cognitive functions as a general basis (since they're the first and most obvious patterns I've spotted so far), but I'm hoping to use DISC and enneagram someday. I'm not musically gifted, considering how I can't identify any scales in music, but I am observing how certain sounds can bring about specific visual representations. As of now, it's doing pretty well, and I'm hoping to see how everything fits together in a few years.

[fruggo]

I’m not gonna lie this would be the first time I requested something so if I do something wrong I’m really sorry,

Can I request Quentin, Leon, Steve, and Frank meeting a female reader who, before the entity took her, had already faced off her own killer?

And this made her kinda tough? Like she knows what she’s doing

oh my gosh thank you so much!! this is my first ever request to fulfill so we’re in this together :DD seriously i really appreciate you!

i decided to do a headcanon kind of format for this, i hope that’s okay! also these are my absolute favorite boys aaahhh this is so fun for a first request

the boys x tough f!reader (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: swearing, reader kicks frank in the shins

word count: ~700-1k each (sorry if it’s too long…i kind of got really excited and uhhh maybe i got carried away,, yeah. sorry)

(also i'll be honest quentin's is not my best. that was the one that got eaten by the tumblr abyss and i had to write all over again, and it just didn't come out the same way that i wanted it to at first :( i did the other boys hoping i'd get some inspiration to fix it afterwards, but i got kind of stuck. so it's not my favorite, but i hope you like it okay! i want to write better stuff for quentin in the future, he is my favorite sleepy boy <3)

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

when you arrived in the realm, everyone thought you would be the same as the others—frightened, confused, and overwhelmed. but you took this nightmarish challenge in stride, adapting to your surroundings quickly and learning far faster than anybody else had.

your past experiences had made you independent and sometimes distrustful, so once you had the gist of things, you didn’t need (or want) anybody to tell you what to do. and nobody was inclined to, either—your instincts naturally told you what to do and when.

the first time you met quentin was a little awkward, i wont lie. you were wary of speaking to the other survivors; you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again.

it was the beginning of a trial. the nurse’s fatigued shrills could be heard all the way from the edge of the wrecker’s yard, but you immediately started work on a generator, unafraid. a few minutes passed, when soft footsteps indicated someone’s approach. it was quentin—he started to work on the wires without hesitation.

you were a little surprised, only because the other survivors usually left you to your own devices. you got the impression that maybe they were intimidated by you, which you didn’t particularly mind. but you wouldn’t particularly mind some company now and then, either.

it was comfortably silent for a while, before quentin spoke up.

“what’s your name?” he asked, gaze still focused on the wires.

hesitating a little, you told him. then you said, “and you’re quentin, right?” you already knew most everybody’s name just from observation.

“that i am,” he replied.

then it was quiet for a while.

very quiet.

well, what were you supposed to say now?

the silence was deafening and very, very uncomfortable to you. normally you were okay with a quiet atmosphere, but it was the kind of silence that buzzed in your ears, chewed at your stomach, filled the area as if it were something solid. man, what were you supposed to say—

it was then that you realized poor quentin had fallen asleep, his face smooshed onto the generator. his cheek was now covered in grease and grime.

it made you smile—only a little. you finished repairing the generator on your own, causing quentin to wake with a start and bang his head on the pole protruding from the machine. he swore like a sailor until he realized where he was, smiling sheepishly.

“sorry, i wanted you to have your nap. you looked really tired,” you said. you also couldn’t stop admiring the dark grease on his face—it was really quite funny. and no, you weren’t going to say anything about it. it could stay there a little longer.

you spent the rest of the trial running the nurse around the whole wrecker’s yard, only suffering one injury until the end. quentin had no idea how you had been here for such little time and already knew how to outplay the nurse, one of the most difficult killers to survive against. he still didn’t know how to do it well himself, so he was thankful for you.

however, once the exit gates were opened, you found yourself in a bad spot. the nurse had caught you in an empty clearing with nowhere to hide or predict her moves, and she downed you instantly. quentin cringed hearing your agonized scream as you were hooked.

there was no way you were dying on his watch. once he was sure the nurse was gone, he gently lifted you from the hook, pulling out his medical kit to begin patching up your shoulder.

despite the pain, you had enough energy to smile at him and say, “thanks, nap boy.”

quentin feigned offense with a wry grin, pulling out some gauze. “is that all i’m going to be to you? nap boy?”

you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “maybe you won’t be if you get me out of here.”

“that won’t be a problem," he smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

“show me the gates and then we’ll talk, nap boy.”

from then on, quentin became your go-to source for supplies and general comfort. you weren't scared of this place, but it was nice to know you had somebody who would really be there for you.

he would often fall asleep on your shoulder at the campfire--he really was a nap boy, and you would never let him live that down.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon could not tear his eyes away from you the first time you arrived in the realm. your presence was strong; he could tell you weren’t one to back away from a fight.

most of the survivors had been (rightly) confused and disoriented when they popped into the realm, but you tried to accept it quickly. you didn’t like it, in fact all you wanted was just to go home, but you came to terms with it and jumped into trials headfirst like an insane person.

that was the courageous part about you—maybe you were scared, but you did scary shit anyways. in fact, you did scary shit to spite the fear, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to overcome it.

and leon couldn’t lie, that was cool as hell.

you had tunnel vision and didn’t pay much notice to the other survivors; you were too focused on learning about this place and getting out of trials. having gone through some real shit, being here hardly came as a surprise to you. if you were going to be here forever, what was the point in mourning? might as well just accept it and try your hardest to survive. maybe someday this sick game would end, but for now, you were prepared to fight for your life and that’s all you could really focus on.

your first trial was not the best. even though you were resourceful, you didn’t know what the objective was yet, so you weren’t sure where to start other than analyzing your surroundings. luckily for you, leon kennedy was one of your teammates.

after being downed immediately by bubba’s chainsaw and tossed onto a hook, you were amazingly resilient to the pain. leon was the one to lift you from the hook, and he took out his medkit to help patch your wound, but you flinched away from him before he could touch you.

he was puzzled. “what’s wrong?” he asked. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to help you.

you hesitated and looked him over before mumbling, “i’m fine.” and you tried to stand on your own, beginning to limp away. you didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

leon sighed, following after you. “let me help, that must hurt a lot.”

“i told you, cop, i’m fine. i don’t want your help, okay?”

leon opened his mouth to insist, but decided against it. if you didn’t want his help, then he shouldn’t butt in. that wouldn’t keep him from watching over you, though.

but then leon called after you (perhaps a little smugly), “do you even know what you’re supposed to do?”

begrudgingly, you stopped walking. no, you didn’t know what to do. “i’ll figure it out,” you said over your shoulder. and you would; you had been through enough to survive any situation thrown at you.

but maybe one pointer couldn’t hurt.

“do a generator,” he told you, giving you a cheeky grin when you turned around to look at him. he was lucky he was cute.

the first part of the trial had been rough, but after that first hook you were doing a lot better. you managed to find your own medkit from a chest, and you learned how to fix a few generators. you found it came pretty naturally, and were satisfied that you hadn’t needed anyone’s help (except leon’s. but you didn’t have to admit that yet). when the killer came near, you skillfully avoided him and stayed hidden as much as you could.

you were also pretending that you didn't notice leon hovering near you. he was not very good at being subtle; he was obviously trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. it was cute. you didn't want to ruin his fun, so you didn't say anything about it.

it wasn’t long before the gates were powered and in the process of being opened. you saw a red glowing light in the distance, and assumed that must be your destination. you put all of your remaining energy into sprinting to the exit, adrenaline pumping through your body.

but then there was a heartbeat. a heartbeat so loud it filled your head, splitting your concentration. it wasn’t your own heartbeat--it was the killer’s.

the sound of the cannibal’s chainsaw roared in your ears and pain tore through your body; you collapsed to the ground with a cry of agony. shit, that really hurt, and you weren't sure you could ever get used to it. eternity sure seemed a lot longer than you had first anticipated. would you really be here forever? doing this over and over?

biting your lip until it bled, you tried to crawl towards the gate, dragging the lower half of your body with much difficulty. it was no use, though--you hardly got anywhere, and you could already feel the killer picking you up. just like that, you were going to die? you had been so close..

but as you were being placed on bubba’s shoulder, you saw a flash of a police uniform and a blinding light, and before you knew it, you had been dropped to the ground, the exit gate looking awfully lovely and much more desirable than a meat hook. you gathered all of your strength and began limping forward, when suddenly you felt an arm firmly wrap around your waist and your own was placed around someone else’s shoulder.

leon. when you looked up at him, all he did was give you a calm smile, which you felt inclined to return. with him supporting you, the two of you made it safely to the exit and began the long traipse back to the campfire, where you would find yourself spending a lot of time together.

from then on, you always remained quite unfazed by the events of the entity’s realm—the only thing that ever made you feel weak was being around leon. he was just so cute :]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

you had never met someone so persistent in your life. from the moment the entity stole you here, steve harrington was after you, and there was next to nothing you could do about it. he sure was living up to his self-proclaimed role of babysitter.

you told him you were fine, that you didn’t need him following you around, but the asshole did it anyways.

“how cool do you think you are?” you asked him at some point, to which he simply shrugged with that stupid grin on his lips.

“i can take care of myself.” “i really don’t need you to baby me, steve.” “steve, if you don’t leave me alone i’m going to break your kneecaps.” these were all things that had come from your mouth multiple times recently. you were seriously thinking about that last one now.

you knew you could make it on your own, and you only wished he would give you a chance to prove that to him so he would leave you alone. but it was like he had attached himself to your hip, and for some reason the entity seemed to really enjoy putting you in trials with him. great.

he was a dumbass and a sweetheart, and you weren’t sure which one of those took higher priority. you knew he only meant well, but god, you wanted to be independent for once. why did he think he had to protect you so much? you arrived here after running for your fucking life, fighting off your long-time pursuer, and living in awful, ever-changing conditions. you had seen your closest friends die, right before your eyes. you didn’t need to be sheltered or coddled, but you couldn’t seem to make steve understand that, no matter how much you fought with him.

steve would literally throw himself in front of the killer for you. he clicked his flashlight in the killer’s face if they were after you, and he would swear and cuss until they chased him out of pure annoyance. it got him killed countless times, and you didn’t know whether to call him stupid or selfless. probably both.

eventually you decided to just copy him and see how it worked out. you weren’t scared, you had no reason to be. you wanted to show him you could be just as flashy as him.

as you arrived into a trial, steve right across from you (of course), you smiled to yourself. you had brought your best flashlight, and you were prepared to use it. the two of you began to work on a generator together, making light conversation as usual.

“if the killer comes here, hide. i’ll take him away.” “fuck you, steve harrington.” “sure, if you really want to.” “why don’t you ever leave me alone?” “it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” “i could punch you right now.” “but you won’t. i’m too good to look at.”

you know, the usual friendly stuff.

you purposefully connected the wrong wires, making the generator spark and sputter. “oops. oh no, the killer must be on their way,” you dead-panned. steve gave you an unamused look.

and indeed, only a few moments later, you heard the sound of the hillbilly and his chainsaw roaring in your direction. the two of you split up, and the killer’s weapon collided with the generator, making an awful screeching sound.

and that was when the chaos started.

steve began hollering and flicking his flashlight into the sky as usual, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same. steve looked at you in astonishment, pausing, but then he started again, even louder. you tried to outdo him.

“HEY BILLY! FUCK YOU!” you screamed, ignoring steve’s attempts to get you to stop. “COME AFTER ME, SHITHEAD!”

steve started actually yelling, just yelling, while you continued to swear meaninglessly. the poor hillbilly looked confused and overwhelmed, and eventually he couldn’t take the noise anymore--he just left, opting to find the other survivors while the two of you sorted out whatever it is you obviously had against each other.

it was dead silent now that the killer was gone, and you and steve were both out of breath. but as soon as you made eye contact, laughter bubbled up from your chest, causing you to collapse against the tree and slide to the ground. your voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

and then he was laughing too, stumbling over to plop down next to you, and your giggling started up a whole new round.

after the laughter died down, you stared at your hands, ignoring steve’s gaze on the side of your face until you couldn’t anymore.

“what?” you asked, finally looking at him. he was smiling all stupid again. “what?” you insisted, fighting off a grin of your own. you hated when he looked at you like that, because it made you want to smile back at him.

“nothing,” he said coyly, laughing again. you punched his shoulder playfully.

“c’mon harrington, when have you ever held your tongue before? spit it out.”

he nodded, that was true. so he said it. “i just like you, that’s all.”

oh. oh.

realization dawned upon your face. “is that why you always--”

“yes,” he interrupted you. “i thought it was obvious. man, you’re clueless sometimes.”

oh.

huh.

you guessed…maybe…steve harrington wasn’t that annoying. maybe.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

to say you were feisty was an understatement. frank hated your guts at first because you were so good at evading him, which he would never admit. but the thing that made him really mad was that if he ever downed you, you would kick at him and try to trip him over, like actually bruise his shins. it hurt like hell.

this lead to his decision to constantly tunnel you, and he would laugh at you while you were on the hook, too. so you hated his guts just as much as he did yours. it was a mutual guts-hating situation.

your teammates always felt bad for you, but they also thought you were a badass and knew you could handle yourself. you hadn’t told anybody where you’d come from or what had happened to you, but they knew it was something interesting. there was a reason that nothing that happened here really got to you.

sometimes things escalated even further than shin-kicking. there was one time where frank had managed to grab the back of your shirt as you tried to vault a window, and as he pulled you closer to himself, you elbowed him in the neck and squirmed out of his grasp. while he stood stunned and lost for breath, you kicked the back of his locked knee so that he fell to the ground and bonked his forehead on the wall—the classic dead leg.

this was very funny to you.

not to him.

while you ran away, laughing to yourself, frank’s anger built and built. he was tired of letting you make a fool of him, and it was time to be serious about things.

he ignored you for the rest of the trial, forming a plan in his mind. there was something he needed to do after this, so he made sure to kill everybody else to please the entity—he couldn’t get caught up, it would derail his anger train. he also didn’t feel like getting kicked in the balls or some shit, so he let you out without a problem.

frank did some brooding at the ormond lodge before he was ready to go through with his plan. and his shins really, really hurt, so susie helped him ice them before he left.

the masked killer made his way to the survivor camp rather hastily. when he arrived, he saw you pacing around, deep in thought.

so he threw a rock at you.

it was just a pebble, really. maybe it could be considered a rather large pebble, but frank insisted in his mind that it was a pebble.

“ow, what the fuck!” you cursed, rubbing your sore shoulder and looking around to find the culprit. and then your eyes laid on him.

he looked so sultry standing there at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and mask smiling, you could almost laugh at him. he acted so serious, when really, he was just an angry and misbehaving twink.

you put on your best serious face, genuinely trying not to be amused by this, and strode over to the killer.

“what do you want?” you asked confidently, mirroring his body language and crossing your arms.

frank bristled at your approach, as if trying to make himself look bigger. he wished you were scared of him like everyone else, it would really make him feel better.

“i want a truce,” he said.

you almost burst into laughter at that. a truce? what the fuck for?

he said was willing to stop tunneling and camping you if you stopped beating the shit out of him with your sticky little hands. he didn’t say it like that, but you knew that was what he meant. you, a survivor, could beat up frank, a killer, and it upset him and his little ego :(

just to humor him, you agreed. and frank nodded.

“but,” you continued, raising your eyebrows, “you have to give me something else.”

he started to say “no, no way—“ but you interrupted him: “you’re asking me to stop fighting for myself and just give in when you catch me. i think i deserve something other than just not being tunnelled.”

frank glared at you under his mask, thankful that you couldn’t see. “okay. whatever. what do you want?”

“i want to see your face.” you thought this was a good choice, something you could lord over him forever. it was surely only a win for you. his face was something private, and you would be the only survivor to know.

of course you wanted to see his face, frank thought. everyone did; they wanted to find out if he was good-looking. which, according to him, he was. if you ever asked the other members of the legion, susie was the only one to actually respond. she felt obligated to compliment him as she was basically his sister. so she would say frank is handsome in a ruggedy, jess mariano kind of way. you wondered how she knew what gilmore girls was, since that came after her time, but susie would never give away her secret.

so with a sigh, frank agreed to let you see his face. he didn’t really care, all he wanted was to stop having bruises on his shins. it was kind of miserable, and the entity never did anything to help him.

when he said that you couldn’t do it here, and you asked why the fuck not, he said it was because some other survivor might see. you decided he had a fair point, so reluctantly you let him drag you all the way to ormond.

when he took off his mask, your first thought, whether you wanted it to be or not, was “wow! he really does look like jess mariano! but with tattoos! hot!”

you were lost for words. you didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you sure weren’t expecting him to be that attractive.

he could tell your thoughts from the look on your face.

this had been per your request, and you were planning on this being something you could hold over his head, but the situation had turned into something that he could hold over your head.

oh dear. frank morrison now held pretty boy privilege over you.

and soon you would find out that he was going to keep tunnelling you anyways.

listen i've been watching a lot of gilmore girls and i just get jess vibes from frank, except our boy is more of a twinky idk shdjfhsf i love this guy sm

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance (Epilogue)

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, some angsty undertones ig??? 

Word count: 912

Summary: After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.

a/n: how the fuck are we at the end of josh’s series i’m gonna cry. this series is definitely top 3 of my favorites in tftp and i’m gonna miss it 🥺 but i hope y’all enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it!!!!

Previous | Second Chance Masterlist | TftP Masterlist

The mark.

Your fingers brushed the little red marks on your neck as you looked at it in the mirror. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t get enough of looking at it even though you’d gotten it almost a week ago.

“Am I supposed to mark you, too?” you had asked Joshua during one of many post-sex conversations, downing as much water as he could get into you.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, “do your instincts tell you to? I don’t know how coyotes work.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Well, you can if you really feel like it.”

You, being the curious thing you are, decided toward the end of your head that you wanted to do it just to see what it was like.

“You can just do it now,” he offered.

“You said that it hurts, that’s why you do it during sex.”

He just shrugged, “I wanna know what it feels like. Besides, I can take it.”

All he did was let out a sharp inhale of breath before muttering, “Motherfucker.”

You didn’t feel any different afterwards, but Joshua seemed content — or maybe he was just amused by you and your constant curiosity, even when it may or may not go against your instincts.

“Hey, kid,” Joshua’s voice took you from your thoughts. Your eyes found him looking at you in the mirror, standing behind you. “Ready to go?”

You turned to face him and nodded, “If you are.”

He took a deep breath before holding his hand out toward you, wanting you to come closer and take it, “I am.”

-

The pack ventured through the forest, making conversation with each other. Some took turns holding Jiwoo and occupying her or letting her nap in their arms. Yeji spent half the trek riding on Jihoon’s back simply because she didn’t feel like walking. Eunjin trailed behind with Seungkwan, spacing out more often than not and mumbling to herself — or maybe people they couldn’t see.

After what felt like forever, the forest broke into a clearing that was familiar to even those who had never been there.

“Whoa…” Danbi breathed as she looked around the clearing that was mostly purple flowers.

“Wait, this place exists?” Jooyeon asked.

Jeonghan furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve only seen this place in my dreams,” she explained. “I didn’t think it was real!”

“Me too,” Yeji interjected.

“Yeah, me too,” Kyung nodded.

All of the mates spoke up, mentioning that they’d only seen the clearing in their dreams.

“Yes, me as well,” Eunjin nodded slowly, her voice quiet and somewhat far away like she was focusing on something else. “But…it’s louder here…”

The pack fell silent and stared at Eunjin, but the girl in question was staring intently at one spot in the clearing.

Joshua just knew what — who — Eunjin was talking about, and after a few beats of silence, he said, “This is where we buried Lilly.”

Your head whipped around to look at Josh, who stood beside you. His eyes met yours as other mates questioned the pack about the family outing they were brought on.

“What?” he asked.

“You…wanted to bring me here?” you questioned slowly.

He nodded, “The girls never got to see this place, but yes, I wanted you here, too.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “But… But isn’t this— I mean—“

“It’s not…weird or anything,” he chuckled. “You’re not intruding on anything or overstepping. I brought you here. Plus…I know she’d really like you.”

You smiled at him softly. Those words meant a lot more than he probably thought they would.

“Yeah, she would’ve thought you were the cutest thing,” Seungcheol agreed with a warm smile.

“Remember that time she brought home a bird that was on the verge of dying?” Jeonghan laughed. “She forced us to nurse it back to health because it was so far gone that even Josh’s power couldn’t help it?”

“And then Josh brings home a dying werecoyote,” Junhui snorted.

“Don’t act like I became some softie,” Josh mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Became?” Hansol laughed at the same time that you said, “You kind of are.”

“You’ve always been one,” Hansol continued with a bright grin. “Hate to break it to you.”

“I beg to differ,” Soonyoung spoke up.

The pack went on to tell stories of Lilly — like how she hated lily flowers but her favorites were lilac, hence why the field was almost completely covered in them — while the girls listened. You stood there and listened, but instead of keeping track of who was talking, you were watching Eunjin who was still staring at the center of the circle that the pack had created. You assumed you were all standing around where Lilly was buried.

You felt Joshua’s warm arms encircle you as his body pressed against your back. You tore your eyes away to turn you head to him, and he pressed a soft kiss to your temple before going back to his conversation.

“Kwannie,” Eunjin whispered.

You focused back on the couple, but nobody else paid them any mind — except Jia, but you’d never be able to tell.

“The voice,” she told him. “She’s…gone.”

Seungkwan’s eyes flickered to you, meeting your curious gaze. He let out a small laugh before leaning in to whisper to his mate, but you still heard him.

“It’s a good thing, love. She doesn’t have to watch him anymore. She knows he’ll be okay now.”

[samstree]

for the cliche tropes, 27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second with geraskier, if you please <3

Thank you for the prompt! 🌼 Sorry it’s quite late but please enjoy this tiny piece of pining on this fine Friday.

(1.3k, geraskier, slow dancing, drunk jaskier, protective geralt, no warnings.)

“Oh, Geralt! Fancy seeing you here!” Jaskier exclaims, as if they didn’t come to the banquet together.

The bard reaches Geralt’s table and sweeps away his ale in one swift motion before chugging it all down. When he finally puts down the tankard, Geralt finds himself the recipient of the bard’s most charming and yet most performative smile.

Jaskier is nervous.

“Phew!” His hands flail dramatically. “Fine evening, isn’t it?”

Geralt hums, waiting for the catch.

“Let’s dance!”

Without getting a reply, Jaskier is already dragging Geralt up from his seat. With all the wine and ale in his system, Jaskier’s hold is not strong enough to manhandle a bulky witcher, but they end up at the edge of the dance floor anyway.

Jaskier’s warm palms rest flush against Geralt’s waist, and their faces are only a hand’s breadth away. Geralt can feel the heat on the bard’s flushed cheeks and hear the pounding of his heart in the din of the room. They sway to the gentle music.

It’s…close, too close. Geralt needs a distraction.

“What’s the catch, Jask?”

The bard scoffs, almost offended. “Do I require a reason to dance with you? Or am I not allowed to just enjoy quality time with my favorite witcher?”

Geralt simply lifts an eyebrow.

“All right. You are too smart for your own good.” Jaskier chews on his lips, again, nervously. “There is this one gentleman, who may have been too eager for my…company, despite my explaining of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m in love and thus unavailable?” Jaskier says as if it’s obvious. Geralt frowns with worry.

“Still?” the witcher asks quizzically. “Valdo left nearly a year ago, Jaskier. It isn’t healthy.”

That is the wrong thing to say because Jaskier flinches at the name. Hurt flashes across those cornflower blue eyes, and Jaskier looks too dejected, too similar to how Geralt found him at his worst, in pain and alone and roaring drunk. He never wants to see Jaskier like that again.

“Well, no matter,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “It’s not like the guy took the hint and left me alone, so I had to improvise. Now, before you give me another lecture or something, you need to know that I had no choice but to—”

“What did you do?” Geralt lets the music and the crowd lead the two of them around the dance floor, careful not to bump into another couple.

The bard regains his balance, looking contrite.

“I may have implied that, um, the person I’m in love with is here tonight.” He pauses before continuing reluctantly. “Or I may have said plainly that he is…a certain witcher.”

“Jaskier…”

“I know. I know! But he was relentless and I couldn’t get away!” he pleads.

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s hands tighten on Jaskier’s shoulders protectively. The bard is too drunk to even keep up with the dance, let alone fight off some unwanted pursuer. In truth, he’s only relieved that he is here with Jaskier, even though the lie is hitting a bit too close to home.

Holding Jaskier like this, swaying with him gently, is once again reminding Geralt of what he isn’t allowed to dream. He no longer dares these days. Not when he’s the one pushing Jaskier away time and time again, not when he’s the one who let Jaskier slip through his fingers and end up with Valdo, not when he’s the one who inadvertently caused Jaskier’s broken heart.

“Oh fuck.” Jaskier hisses, his body tensing. “He’s coming towards us. Okay, act natural! Wait, what is natural if we were together? Oh…um… Just roll with me, will you?”

Before Geralt can reply, Jaskier’s mouth is on his. The kiss is as chaste as it can be—Jaskier is only pecking at his lips gently, never pushing in. Geralt only remembers to close his eyes after a moment, and forces himself to respond as such. To keep up the front, he tells himself, lest the guy is watching.

And he is. Deliberate footsteps are circling the dance floor, not far from them. Geralt concentrate on identifying the man’s heartbeat and his movement—

Jaskier sucks on his lower lip once, twice, before letting go. He buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, his body still taut like a statue.

“Is he gone?”

Warm breaths ghost over the skin of Geralt’s neck and he struggles to open his eyes. The man is not gone. In fact, he’s observing them intently, just shy of stepping into the dance floor himself. Through the moving crowd, Geralt can make out his golden hair and slim shoulders, almost a spitting image of one Valdo Marx, only a little taller.

Geralt hates this man immediately.

Perhaps it’s those too piercing eyes, or the way his presence is making Jaskier nervous like this, or just the look of him. Geralt narrows his eyes dangerously.

“He is not,” Geralt says into Jaskier’s ear, mimicking a lover’s murmur, all the while not breaking eye contact. He’s heard so many times how his yellow eyes are monstrous, and Geralt is thankful for once. It takes some balls to not cower under a witcher’s glare, one that projects predator from afar. This one crumbles within seconds.

With a triumphant smirk, Geralt moves one hand up to cup the nape of Jaskier’s neck, the other one still pressed between his shoulder blades. He’s laying claim. Hopefully, the light can catch a glint of his fangs, but either way, the man is soon running off, tail between his legs.

“Now he’s gone,” Geralt’s voice comes out deeper and rougher. He clears his throat. “Should be out of the gate by this point.”

They are standing impossibly close. The anxious rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest slow to normal and they separate. Geralt misses the contact. He now has a harder time keeping Jaskier steady on his feet. Yes, that’s the sole reason to miss holding Jaskier.

“I—” Jaskier’s gaze is still fixed somewhere far away behind Geralt’s shoulder, oblivious of how reluctantly the witcher is retracting his hands. “Sorry I did that.”

“Hmm. It worked.”

The bard lets out a dry laugh. “Thank the fuck you are here. I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“You can take care of yourself.”

Geralt only has one hand at Jaskier’s elbow, holding onto him with a featherlight touch. The music has come to an end and the quiet intimacy dissipates.

“Can I?” Jaskier says half-mockingly. “One look at that guy and I could barely breathe, Geralt, and he doesn’t even look that much like Val—him.”

Jaskier bites his lips in contrite, his eyes dimmed. Geralt dips his head to meet Jaskier’s gaze, the ocean blue so lost.

“Hey. I’ll be here if you need me,” he adds way too quickly, almost spluttering. “—to get rid of unwanted attention, that is.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice the awkwardness. Instead, a soft smile stretches across his face. Wordlessly, the bard leans forward to place a small kiss on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt has to hide the gasp, his eyes wide. He doesn’t know why he’s more affected this time. Is it because it’s real? A voice at the back of his head asks. The last time—even with Jaskier’s lips all over him—was only a show, but this one is full of Jaskier’s heart.

“You are sweet.” Jaskier wipes at the spot with a thumb. “What would I do without you, my friend?”

“Hmm.”

Friend. It’s one little word that Geralt has rejected time and time again, and just when he begins to want for more, he finds himself trapped in the very same word. The irony would be laughable if Geralt is not missing the warmth of Jaskier against him so much.

How the turntables.

Geralt lets Jaskier retreat into the crowd, and if he turns to smell the lingering scent of Jaskier on his shoulder, nobody needs to know.

[allegra-writes]

"The Game"

Tom Holland x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink.

Golf is boring. You wanna play something else...

"Swinging on the front porch, swinging on the floor.

Swinging where we want, cause there ain't nobody home..."

Cherry Pie - Warrant

He should have known it was a trap. He should have known it from the very first minute. This was punishment, plain and simple punishment. Unusually cruel punishment. He didn't even know why he was so surprised, in fact, he should have seen it coming a mile away. After all, you were about as subtle as a train wreck. And that was exactly how you had hitted him. 

You had always despised golf, said it was snobbish and boring. But he always invited you to tag along just in case, because sharing one of his favorite activities with his favorite girl? That sounded almost like paradise to him. That was probably the reason why that morning, when you had jumped at the chance to join him at the country club, he hadn't suspected a thing.

Oh, how naive he was. How trusting of him. Because now, he had to play 18 while trying to conceal a throbbing, almost painful erection, watching you prance around wearing that. It was ridiculous. It was silly. It was cliche.

It was driving him completely insane.

Your little ensemble was straight out of some soft-porn movie set, he was sure of it: Keds, knee high socks… and a criminally short pleated skirt, especially designed to torture him. You guys weren't even half way through, and he was already about to snap, with his arms enveloping you, hands over yours on the handle of the club, as you bended over just a little, ass pressing against his pelvis just enough to tease him, to remind him how good it felt being buried to the hilt inside your tight, tight heat, the slapping sounds of skin against skin combining with your moans...

One of his hands let go of the club, subconsciously wrapping itself over your hip bone, when you moved, twisting, hips getting away from his. 

"Oh my god! I can't believe it, did you see that?" You turned around to face him, eyes alight with joy at having hit the ball for the first time in your life. 

And for a second, he felt bad. He was probably reading too much into it, chances were you didn't even know what you were doing to him. You were innocent in all that, it wasn't your fault not knowing just how damn irresistible you were, how hard you made him just by standing close to him…

Until he noticed the outline of your nipples under your white t-shirt, made almost see through under the bright sunlight. His eyes squinted in suspicion.

"Are you wearing any underwear?" He blurted out, cheeks immediately turning red, looking around to make sure no one had heard him. But there was no one around, not many people playing on a wednesday morning. In fact, you had the whole course pretty much for your selves.

His cock twitched inside his pants, but he shook himself, squashing the thought before it could take full shape.

You seemed to ignore him, as your face fell.

"I… don't think I was supposed to shoot it that way, though" 

Tom's eyes followed yours, but try as he might, he couldn't find the white dot he was looking for.

"Where the hell did it go?"

"I think it landed behind those bushes" You pointed to the far away patch of hydrangeas on the other side of the field. He couldn't help the snort that left his mouth,

"Yeah, that's not even close to where it should be!"

"Hey! Don't laugh at me"

"I mean, at least we know you have a strong swing" He let out between laughs

You rolled your eyes,

"Be gentle with me, this is my first time" 

The laughter died in his throat like you knew it would, as the innuendo hit him, eyes darkening as they roved over your body once again. You had to know what you were doing... 

You turned around so he couldn't see your smirk, as you started walking in big strides in the direction of the bushes, leaving him to struggle to follow you, carrying the bag full of clubs. 

It wasn't a bad sight, he had to admit, watching you walk ahead of him, your skirt bouncing with your movements, hips swaying gently from side to side. And it was even better as you reached the tall plants, parting the branches trying to see past them, bending over once again, your short skirt riding up your thighs, higher, and higher. He gulped, what little blood was left in his brain rushing south, as he saw the cleft where the round globes of your ass met your legs. You climbed on your tiptoes, and he choked on a groan: just a little bit more and the answer to whether you had or not any underwear on would be right before his eyes, literally…

"Found it!" You called out, victorious, falling to your heels again, walking around the lilac flowers, disappearing from sight, heedless to his disappointment. 

He knew it was a bad idea, as he trailed after you, like in a trance. But there you were, waiting for him behind the tall wall of bushes hiding you both from sight from every angle, mischievous glint in your eye.

The ball was nowhere to be found, and he finally understood.

Your stomach made a flip as Tom tugged at his glove with his teeth, discarding it on the green grass, his whole demeanor changing before your eyes, jaw squaring, eyes hardening, movements slow and measured as he circled you like a tiger stalking his prey. 

"You dirty little liar" He accused, watching the corners of your mouth twitch, trying to hide your satisfied smile, but it was useless: you looked every bit like the cat that got the cream. Well, he knew of another thing that looked great dripping down your chin…

"You think you're real clever, don't you? Really sneaky, teasing me all morning with this little outfit," He let his now naked hand trace your nipples, already hard under the fabric of your tee, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. He was right, you hadn't bothered with a bra, "making me hard with your little touches and smart mouthed comments…"

"Golf is boring" You shrugged, "I wanna play something else" 

He stepped back, away from you, leaving you feeling cold without his heat, despite the bright sunshine. 

"Too bad, baby girl, I'm done with games" His eyes were steel as he commanded, "Show me"

"Show you what?" You looked at him through your eyelashes, you knew how much he liked it when you played coy. But this time, he had told you the truth, the games were over.

"You know bloody well what" His south London accent was always heavy when his patience was wearing thin, "lift that little skirt and show me what's mine" 

You obeyed, and this time, he did groan, the wet patch on the simple white cotton of your thong almost better than his fantasies of your bare skin. 

He fell to his knees on the grass. God, he was so whipped! His plan had been to have you kneeling in front of him, choking on his cock as he fucked your mouth so deep and hard that tears would stream down your face. He would release himself down your throat, leaving you begging for his softening cock, his fingers, his tongue, his freaking golf club, anything to fill your empty little cunt. But of course all of that flew out the window the second he actually saw that pretty pussy through your panties, made almost transparent with your desire for him, the fabric clinging to every curve, every little detail clear for him to admire.

"Come here, baby girl" His tone was much softer as he spoke, "let daddy have a little taste" 

You did as you were told, never stopping to hold your skirt up high for him. Tom nuzzled the cotton, breathing you in before hooking one finger on the damp fabric, tugging gently to the side to reveal your most secret spot to him. He let his tongue poke out, placing kitten licks against your clit, eyes rising to meet your face. Your own were closed already, little frown between your eyebrows, as if the tiny shocks of pleasure coursing through your body confused you. So expressive. So responsive. 

How could he ever stay mad at you when you were so fucking perfect? It only took one taste of you to melt whatever was left of his anger, as he marveled of the angel whining so prettily above him, delicate fingers digging into his shoulders to support herself as her legs shook for him. It never failed to amaze him, to blow his mind. It had always been like that, he had put you up on a pedestal long before you had started dating. 

But now, he wanted to lay you down, and spread you open under the sun. 

He tsked at your huff as his tongue left you.

"No, baby, you don't get to complain today. You've been a very bad girl, so now," He helped you down onto your back on the grass, making quick work of your panties. Taking a hold of your ankles, he hooked them over his shoulders, aligning himself with your dripping center, "you're going to take my cock like a good girl" 

With that, he let his head breach you, entering you slowly, so slowly. Savoring every second, sliding in inch by inch, making you feel every millimeter of his thick, thick length as he buried it into your sweet pussy, stretching you to the limits of pleasure. He had you fold almost in half, as his pelvis finally met yours. You sighed, you had thought he would burst through your ovaries before he was completely seated inside you.

"Can you feel me, babygirl? Feel how deep I am?" 

You nodded, unable to form words. He relented, only a couple of inches, before surging back in. 

"Feel me stretching your tight little cunt? Fuck, it feels so snug…"

He drew back again, snapping back against you harder, making you cry out,

"Yes!"

"Only I can fill you like this" He breathed, in and out again, and again. And again, establishing a harsh rhythm, "This pussy belongs to me…" 

"Yes, daddy" You sobbed, obediently. By now you knew exactly what he wanted to hear. He tugged at your t-shirt, sneaking his hand under it, massaging your breast. 

"These pretty tits are mine…"

It was hard to concentrate with him railing you into the ground, fast, brutal. Making sure the base of his cock dragged against your clit just right with every thrust.

"Yours, daddy" You managed, somehow, earning yourself a smile. If wolves could really smile at lambs before gobbling them right up...

He leaned forwards, bracing himself on one arm, the other travelling from your chest, to your neck. To your jaw. His tumb caressed your lower lip, and you opened up to him. Two of his fingers slid inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, you sucked them eagerly, hollowing your cheeks just the way he liked. 

"My princess… so pretty with your mouth full" Tom praised, hips never stopping, plunging his cock into you as far as it would go, over and over again, "wanna fuck your beautiful face… but this pussy… feels too good"

You sobbed around his fingers.

"So good… won't let me go… a slave" His thrusts were becoming messy. Erratic. Tom took his fingers out of your mouth to flick your clit with them.

"No, Tommy! Too much…" You cried, pushing at his hand, overstimulated. But he wouldn't budge. 

"Don't care. You're gonna take it" He growled, but sweetly kissed away your tears. He needed you to come, fast. Because there was no way he was lasting much longer, and you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop anyway. 

"Fuck… yeah, just like that" he could feel you tensing around him. You were almost there, and he was right behind you, "so good… gonna come, baby girl. Gonna come inside you…" 

You shook your head, too delirious to express it with words, but he knew. You didn't like feeling dirty, didn't like the smell. But he fucking loved it. 

"Oh yeah… gonna fill you up… and you're not getting those panties back" His smirk was devilish, filthy. And you were sure that, even without his cock jackhammering into you, you could have come from that look alone. "Gonna see myself dripping down your thighs as you walk…"

His movements were downright sloppy now, as his words edged himself as much as they were edging you.

"Gonna have you sit in the car just like that… ruin your fucking little skirt… OH, FUCK" 

You felt his cock swell, pumping his seed inside your loins. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming, as his climax unleashed your own. Still, he kept moving,

"Gonna put your mouth around me while I drive…" There was no way the morning was ending without him having your mouth.

"Tom…" You could feel him begin to soften inside you, but he still wouldn't stop.

"Shhh, baby girl. Wanna make a mess…"

The end.

Buy me a coffee