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ohtobeleah · 3 months

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Ten: [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?]

Summary: Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion

Word Count: 4.2K

Author Note: It's no secret I've been having a little bit of a rough go on this hell-site as of late. But I'm still here, working on this series. Seeing your weblogs, comments and concepts truly mean the world to me. so please, don't be hesitant to share.

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“My only real advice for this kind of thing is this.” Jensen sighed as he stood on the steps of his townhouse with you. Coffee in one hand, end of life brochure in the other. Things had taken a rather drastic turn for him in the last few days. After your birthday, his health started to drastically diminish–so much so that his doctors weren’t too sure how much time there was left to combat the cancerous cells spreading through his body. “Go right through it.” Jensen smiled, never once did you ever see his positivity falter. “Like right through it, feel it all, be in it, don't avoid it because the moment you start avoiding it is when it's truly won.”

Little Sammy held your hand as you stood next to Jensen–he was too young to understand that the man talking to you was dying, hell, you weren't even sure if you understood the significance of the pamphlet Jensen had picked up after your first CCA meeting. He’d told you it was for a friend, little did you know that friend was standing right in front of you.

The Cancer Counseling Association held biweekly meetings at the hospital. You hadn’t planned on attending when your oncologist, Doctor Morrison, had first mentioned it. But when Jensen said he’d been going almost religiously for three years? You thought, what's the harm?

The harm was it was depressing as fuck.

“You go completely in the tough times, feel everything and get out the other end of it all.” You’d asked Jensen something along the lines of how he’d managed to keep fighting all this time and still be so positive about life and all its underwhelming rewards. He was for the most part, a happy guy despite it all. But even the strongest of soldiers have an achilles heel.

Jensens just so happened to be the fact you were forbidden fruit, he wasn't about to tread on another man's toes. Especially when he was tiptoeing towards the sweet release of death's gentle hands. None of that stopped his heart from racing whenever you smiled though.

“Many of these things you don't have a choice in.” Jensen continued as his eyes lingered down to little two year old Sammy who stood holding your hand in his. If anything you needed the encouragement to fight this battle for your children. “You know, fuck, whats that expression?” Jensen mulled it over as you chuckled, still standing on the path right outside his street facing townhouse. “Uhh–oh yeah! It's not how well you walked through the fire, but how you walked through it regardless.”

“I think I'm just barely crawling through the flames right now–” You answered honestly. There wasn't a nice way to say he’d looked better than he did right now, with sunken eyes and skin that looked as if all the life had been drained from his soul.

So you never mentioned it.

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“So—“ The library wasn’t Jake Seresins favourite place to go, but there was someone who made the isles of hard covered literature easier to understand that always seemed to draw him in. Like a moth to a flame. “Did you have a good Christmas?” The silence that followed as you stared across the desk where you were processing returned textbooks had Jake's heart racing, he couldn’t read you and that fact made him all the more nervous. “Or not? If you’re Jewish maybe? Don’t celebrate Christmas that’s cool too I just thought—“ You had to giggle at the college football star standing across from the reception desk with his elbows leaning on the ledge. Your smile was pure happiness, it wasn’t hard to make Jake's heart melt inside his chest—a chest he once thought was hollow.

“I had a wonderful Christmas, I went home to visit my mum, she always says that if the Christians can steal Christmas from the pagans then us non-religious folk can celebrate too.” You shrugged your shoulders politely as you kept checking off the returned textbooks from students who’d taken them home over the summer.

“What do you mean when you say the Christians stole Christmas?” Jake Seresin grew up in an incredibly conservative, extremely religious household that attended church every Sunday rain hail or shine. Jake swore his mother nearly spontaneously combusted when he had to stay in hospital overnight after having his appendix removed. It was a Saturday afternoon when they’d presented to the emergency room—poor old Janeen nearly dropped dead at the mere thought of her ten year old missing church the next morning.

“Lord have mercy upon us, for we have sinned.” Jake could still remember his mother crying vividly when he woke after surgery. Even at ten he knew his mother was somewhat of an overly sensitive soul.

“Well technically, in order to convert the Germanic pagans who, like, celebrated the winter solstice and stuff—the Christians were like, fuck it, let’s just say that Jesus was born on this day and you can hang tinsel and stuff.” Again, you shrugged your shoulders like it was common knowledge, but as Jake stared down at you with confusion swirling in his emerald eyes, you thought for a split second that maybe this was actually news to the college athlete who’d been following you around for the better half of nine months. Respectfully.

“You can’t just change someone’s birthday like that? Can you?” Jake, in all his years of attending Sunday services, Sunday Schools, being forced to read the bible and knowing far too much about parting seas and burning bushes, he’d never once been told that Christmas was just a day.

“It’s kinda like how King James was rewriting the bible on one side of the castle and had witches trying to turn his pee into gold on the other.” Jake was speechless as you looked up at him from your chair, your eyes seemingly swirling with knowledge beyond your years. It made sense that you worked in the library on campus.

“How the hell do you know all this?” Jake asked through a sheepish smile he couldn’t hide, your intelligence intimated him in the best of ways. You made him want to do better, be better, strive for more in life. It wasn’t that Jake wasn’t smart, he was. But next to you? It was an unparalleled excellence.

“I uh—I tend to read a lot.” Jake caught the way you faded into yourself, never one to want to outshine others. “Just get lost in here sometimes, books are sometimes easier to understand than people.” Jake could sympathise with that sentiment, he knew what it was like to feel like everyone was watching, judging a book by its cover so to speak. Everyone knew him as the meathead footballer who’s weekends were spent racking up the body count.

But with you? Jake just felt like Jake. Because that’s who he was to you. Simply and forever Jake.

“Do you like, not believe in God or something Miss Y/l/n?” Jake asked cautiously. He didn’t want to offend you or come across as rude or anything—he was simply asking a question he thought he may need to know if he was ever going to introduce you to his mother.

“I find it hard to believe in a world full of stories about Gods and Goddesses from a plethora of different perspectives that there can only be one, if one exists they all have to right? Harmoniously and complacent with the way the universe has fallen to shit without their divine intervention.” Jake had to take a moment to take what you had just said in. He was almost rendered speechless, but not quite. Not Jake Seresin.

“Damn Honeybee, you’re fucking fearless aren’t you?“ Jake couldn’t help but to smirk as he tried to keep his voice down. “You’re just raw doggin’ life with no religious affiliations.” It was then your turn to laugh.

“Guess I am. What about you? Do you believe in a God? An all mighty man, or woman, that sits in the clouds and judges your every action?” You asked with a teasing smirk as Jake bit his bottom lip, mulling over your question:

Did he believe in God?

“My mother would probably prefer if I said yes, but, the more I look at life without the rose coloured glasses I tend to think perhaps the big guy in the sky is all just some story.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Did you know hair holds memories.” The sound of buzzing clippers echoed off the walls of the bathroom as you sat before the mirror. Jake stood behind you with those big emerald eyes you loved so dearly, looking at you with a sympathetic look of understanding and support. “In some cultures people don't even cut their hair because it would upset the gods.” Jake could see the tears in your eyes as you looked at him through the mirror, understandably rambling to somewhat buy yourself some more time. “Medusa's hair was alive, there's certain styles linked to different cultures and full hair cutting ceremonies in–” If Jake didn't interrupt now you would have gone on forever. You had a habit of information dropping in situations where nervousness got the better of you. Not that Jake ever minded, he just knew if he didn't get ahead of it, you wouldn't stop. That would ultimately lead to you sitting in silence when the information swirling around inside her head had all been said. Panic would begin to rise inside your chest, the air would soon get thin, the room would suddenly get a little hotter and before you could even realise you'd be in the midst of a full blown panic attack.

The last time Jake witnessed such a thing was when Sam had colic.

“Honey–” Jake cooed as he turned off the clippers he held in his hand, only to place them down on the countertop to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Noone is forcing you to do this, if you don’t wanna cut your hair we don't have to.”

“No–” You sighed. “No, I want to do this, it's just a lot.” You tried to explain. “It's probably one of the only things I still have control over.” Jake understood, it would be hard not to. After all, he wasn't heartless. If he could Jake would have taken this all away, he would have given anything, including his own life to take your pain away. “I just hope I don't have a weird shaped head.”

“I'm sure you have a really nice scalp dear.” Jake chuckled as he massaged your shoulder tenderly. “And look, if you want my professional opinion, I think you’ll make an awesome live action Mrs. Potato Head.”

“Jacob!” You tried to hide your smile as you felt your cheek heating with a hume so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “You’re cruel!”

“But I made you laugh.” Jake countered through a shit eating grin, that signature Seresin smile you loved so much. The very one all three of your children had inherited from their father. “That's all that matters, now–let me work my magic alright, I've got you.”

“You’re probably a worse hairdresser than you were a husband–” It was a low ball, but Jake took it like a champ as he reached out for the clippers. The buzzing was almost immediate as he used the pad of his thumbs to complete the electrical circuit. With the tool now in full gear, Jake chuckled as he looked at you with fake shock and horror casted across his face.

“Oh now who's being cruel huh?” Jake watched as your eyes followed his hand that held the clippers. “Technically we’re still married Honey, you still have my last name.” He mumbled under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear, seemingly trying to keep your attention on what he was saying rather than the clippers approaching your head.

But–you moved:

“Should we cut my hair with scissors first?”

“Y/n–” Jake sighed as he once again turned off the clippers and placed them back down on the side of the sink.

“No no no I'm not trying to stall, I just don't want you to accidentally scalp me when my hair gets caught up in the shaver.” Jake saw your point, for the hair you did have left it was pretty thick and full of life still. He held the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Not in frustration towards you, but in defiance of his new quest.

“I'll go ask the nurses station for some scissors.”

“Thankyou–” Was all you managed to say back before Jake stepped out of the bathroom attached to your hospital room. The Christmas lights still flickered in the dimly lit room, seemingly consuming the entire room in bright blues, greens, reds and yellows. Even in sickness you couldn't help but to lean into the christmas cheers.

It hit Jake in that moment as he rounded out of your hospital room that he should get you something small to open when you wake up from surgery. The hospital has a gift shop right? Perhaps some flowers and a small gift you could keep with you during chemo. Maybe a book or a– *Thud*

Caught up in his own train of thought as he made his way to the nurses station, Jake ran straight into someone coming out of the elevator. There were two very distinct things Jake noticed as he came back into the reality around him. Those distinct things being that the man he’d run into was carrying not only flowers, but a small gift. Huh, uncanny.

“Sorry man, my bad.” The man apologised almost immediately after the mild impact.

“No worries, I wasn't watching where I was going, my bad, really.” Jake responded with a polite smile his mother taught him about, the kind of smile you give to a stranger after mild inconveniences. “Jake–” Jake reached out to shake the guy's hand, in retrospect he should have kept walking. Jake really should have just let the interaction fizzle out, but he couldn't. He was too polite for his own good when it came to small interactions.

The most paranoid fantasy Jake could think of would never have prepared him for the name that the man spoke next as he took Jake's hand in his.

“Jensen–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Okay, I'm ready.” Neither Jake nor Jensen knew if you had mentioned either one in conversation, so, respectfully, both men chose to play the fool. Neither one really wanted to ask. Neither Jake nor Jensen wanted to be the one to open that can of worms.

When Jake returned with the borrowed scissors in his grasp–he acted as if he hadn’t just met the man he assumed was the very Jensen in your contacts.

“Last chance Honeybee–” Jake cooed as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Are you positive?” He asked with a smile so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “I’m all in with you, just say the word and we do whatever you wanna do.”

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. Jake's questions lingered in the air around you, it was hard not to get caught in the moment, get lost in the emerald eyes looking at you through the mirror. Jake stared you down as you shifted in your chair to look at him. He saw no hesitation in your eyes as Jake followed your gaze, searching for any sign or signal that could indicate that the next few moments were about to be a mistake.

“Honey—“ Jake tried to heed the warning lights flashing before his very eyes as you closed the gap between the two of you. Jake stood leaning over your right shoulder, looking longingly at your lips. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

“Loving you is stupidity—“ Was all you said before you let your lips softly connect with your husband’s. Jake kissed you back with enough love in his heart to knock the wind right out of your lungs. The fleeting moment was broken, however, when Jake pulled away. The idea of another man kissing you on his mind, what was this guy's deal? Jackson? Jason?

“Come on Mrs Potato Head, hand me those scissors—“ Jake chuckled, hiding his own insecurities about the man he’d unintentionally met in the hall. You took a second to keep up, but as you licked your lips to savour the taste of Jake's signature vanilla chapstick, you nodded and handed him the scissors.

“I’m ready.” You sighed, once again looking back at your own reflection. “Let’s get this over with.” Change is an inevitable part of life, but that fact didn't make the current circumstances any easy to process. “Do you think that there's gonna be a place for me despite my inability to believe in a higher being?” Jake understood what you were saying, but he didn't have the answers. “I'm starting to wonder more about if there could ever be a life after death.”

Clumps of hair in small sections fell to the tiled floor around you as Jake worked his hands through your hair. Cutting strands from your head like the local mower man cut grass. It felt like such a mundane task to complete, like this was an everyday run of the mill, average experience. But for you? This was a hard and confronting pill to have to swallow.

“I’ve spent my whole life not believing in religion, so who am I supposed to pray to to keep me alive Jake?” Jake saw the tears in your eyes as he cut your hair with caution and steady hands, he heard the small but audible sobs that escaped your lips as he switched from the scissors to the clippers. The buzzing all but silenced your cries but Jake knew this was hard on you. The tears that stained your cheeks clearly reflected your sadness, anger and the inner turmoil that had been engulfing your entire existence since your diagnosis.

“You don’t pray to anyone Honey, you’re stronger than this cancer could ever be.” Again, no one ever sits you down and prepares you for this. No one gives you the heads up about the possibility of one day having to shave your wife's hair off in the name of dignity and control. But as Jake ran the shavers across your scalp, leaving nothing but a small layer of fuzz in their wake, he saw just how much sorrow and pain was swirling in your eyes.

Jake thought to himself in that very moment: ‘I've been needing a haircut for a while now anyway.’

With one quick motion and in the blink of an eye, Jake was running the shavers right down the middle of his head. You really had to take a second to process what he’d just done, what your husband had just done right behind you.

“Jake!” The shrill that escaped your mouth was something unmatched to any emotion you had ever expressed before. “What are you doing?” The image of Jake shaving his head in solidarity would forever be burnt into your mind.

“You said it yourself–hair holds memories and we can make new ones together.” Jake cooed as he shaved off those golden boy locks you loved to run your fingers through. He suited the buzz cut a little more than you did if you were being perfectly honest.

With teary eyes and puffy cheeks you stood on weak legs. The simple gesture of a haircut meant the world to you, Jake knew that. He didn't want you going through this alone. If shaving his head with you brought you a sense of solace? He was more than happy to.

“Looks good–” You smiled as tears ran down your cheeks. Jake reached out to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with the pads on his thumbs. “Mr. Potato head.”

“Consider us the founders of the Potato Head Society.” Jake chuckled as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. In order to cherish you the way you deserved, Jake had to be the bigger man here. He knew that a cloud of uncertainty loomed in the halls, one by the name of Jackson or fucking Jeremy for all Jake cared. But as he stood in the bathroom with you, surrounded in the locks of hair that had once been on your head, he knew damn well at the end of the day it was still his last name you chose to take. “Good thing you don't have an odd shaped head after all, it kinda suits you.”

“Would you still love me if I did?” You asked quietly, giving Jake an excuse to confess his love. Jake's lips were soon pressed softly and ever so tenderly against your once again in the blink of an eye as gentle hands still worked to soothe your stained cheeks.

It wasn’t a hard question to answer, nor an easy question to ask—but as Jake pulled away to rest his forehead on yours as he ran the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, you knew it was an easy concept to understand:

“I’ve never, and I will never, stop loving you Honey.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

For as much as Jensen hated all things hospital related, over his past few years of treatment, he’d come to know these halls better than he knew the back of his own hand.

From countless radiation treatments, to endless chemotherapy sessions. Hours upon hours of remedial therapies and acupuncture sessions to stimulate nerve endings, Jensen was a man who was just about ready to pull the plug and live out the remaining few months he had, or less, from the comfort of his back deck.

He’d been poked and prodded, sliced and diced, far too many times to count on both his hands and for what? A few extra months tacked on top of a few years spent battling pancreatic cancer. No thankyou. Jensen had always had an optimistic outlook on life, until his life started to become the same bland halls and the same bland rooms, with the same bland doctors and nurses who all shared the same look of medical sympathy.

Jesen, for all intents and purposes, was ready to give up his signature status of being the resistant ‘pin cushion’. The student nurses could learn how to change cannula sights on the lady, Paola, who sat in the same chair for every chemotherapy session.

The last few days hadnt been too hot for the six foot one, brown eyed, brown haired (allegedly) man. His prognosis had been diminishing ever since he got the news his treatment was no longer as effective as it once had been.

The day Jensen was told he only had a few short months to live before his organs would begin to fail, even with treatment, was the same day he saw you crying outside the local doctors office. The Hermitage centre as they called it.

The last thing Jensen ever wanted was for his life to be meaningless, before he knew what he was doing? His feet were padding against the concrete as the psalm of his hands began to sweat inside his jean pockets.

“You look like you’ve just been told you’re dying?” As the elevator counted up the floors of which Jensen had to take from the ground floor of the Rhode Island Hospital to the oncology unit, he could vividly remember asking you that question. He recognised the look on your face because not ten minutes prior he;d been told the very same thing.

“I'd start to get your affairs in order, Mr. Hughs “ It hadn't been just a regular check up with his local general practitioner. But it had been the almost final nail in a long awaited coffin.

As the elevator dinged, Jensen took a few steps out into the bustling hallways of the oncology ward. Within seconds, he was met with a force so muscular it damn near knocked him back a few paces. But the cancer ridden ex fireman squared his shoulders and kept easy on his feet.

“Sorry man, my bad.” Jensen almost immediately apologies after the mild impact. He assumed that it was him that had caused the slight collision. His special awareness was pretty shot these days. The flowers he carried were almost crushed on impact, however he managed to save the bouquet of sweet peas, peonies and pansies.

“No worries, I wasn't watching where I was going, my bad, really.” The man responded with a polite smile Jensen could only assume his mother taught him about, the kind of smile you give to a stranger after mild inconveniences. “Jake–” like a slow motion car wreck, Jake reached out to shake Jensens hand. In retrospect he should have kept walking. Jensen really should have just let the interaction fizzle out, but he couldn't. He was too polite for his own good when it came to small interactions.

The most paranoid fantasy Jensen could think of would never have prepared him for the look of utter betrayal that smeared itself across the blonde headed aviators face as Jensen shook your husbands hand:

“Jensen–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm cast #tgm imagine #jake seresin angst #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick

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the-official-memester · 2 years

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ten characters, ten fandoms, ten tags

Thank you, @sewerkingcharlie my liege, for tagging me! 💜

1: Komuso (Okami)

2: Will Byers (Stranger Things)

3: Frank Morrison (Dead by Daylight)

4: Dirge, specifically (Shadow of the Colossus)

5: Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th)

6: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

7: Springtrap (Five Nights at Freddy's)

8: Sammy Lawrence (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

9: Gary Oak (Pokemon)

10: Genos (One Punch Man)

This was surprisingly difficult lmao, I'm at least semi active in almost hundreds of fandoms, but whenever I need to list them they all vanish from my mind. Now, as for the tags!

@scourgeofshadows @a-koi-boi @froegis @deepfriedanon @cyberpunknoire @fubukiswifenoimnotjoking @overlyanxiousace

Aaaand that's the entire limit of people I can possibly think to tag, so..not quite ten lmfao, but close enough.

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billboard-hotties-tourney · 2 months

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The Round Two Contenders

Hello, all! As we go into round two, I'll be accepting propaganda for only the following nominees:

Sting

Glenn Gould

Link Wray

Curtis Mayfield

Bob Seger

Oscar Peterson

Eric Stewart

Klaus Voormann

Paul McCartney

Gene Autry

Rod Argent

Fang

Freddie Mercury

John Paul Jones

Sly Stone

Tom Scholz

Justin Hayward

Roger Hodgson

Bo Diddley

Rick Wright

Gram Parsons

Geddy Lee

Ray Manzarek

Sam Cooke

Jimi Hendrix

David Gilmour

Noel Redding

Fats Domino

Eric Burdon

Jim Morrison

Bjorn Ulvaeus

Smokey Robinson

Nat King Cole

Dave Davies

Ray Brown

Ron Mael

Ian Curtis

Arlo Guthrie

Micky Dolenz

Syd Barrett

Chuck Berry

Renato Zero

Bruce Springsteen

Al Green

Miles Davis

Bill Bruford

Charles Brown

Mickey Finn

Bob Marley

Eric Dolphy

Neil Peart

Alan Parsons

Brian May

Neil Diamond

Mick Taylor

Robin Zander

Billy Preston

Mik Kaminski

Tony Bennett

Mick Ronson

Steve Miller

Tony Levin

Johnny Cash

Stevie Wonder

Gordon Lightfoot

Frank Zappa

Ernie Ford

David Coverdale

Marvin Gaye

Buddy Holly

Marc Bolan

Rory Gallagher

Todd Rundgren

Willie Dixon

Joe Strummer

Carl Palmer

David Bowie

Alvin Lee

Rick Danko

Clyde McPhatter

Cab Calloway

John Oates

Kenny Loggins

Roy Orbison

John Fogerty

Richie Havens

Ricky Nelson

Denny Laine

Otis Redding

Dave Vanian

John Coltrane

Elton John

BB King

Dean Martin

Rob Grill

Don Henley

Russell Mael

Jimmy Page

Cat Stevens

Tommy Shaw

Robbie Robertson

Phil Ochs

David Byrne

Steve Winwood

Donald Fagen

Carlos Santana

Peter Hammill

Tom Jones

Bev Bevan

Clarence Clemons

Sammy Davis Jr

Robert Lamm

Bobby Darin

Johnny Mathis

Tony Banks

Robert Plant

Brian Eno

Benny Andersson

Barry Gibb

John Deacon

Pete Seeger

Phil Lynott

Andy Gibb

George Harrison

Mickey Hart

Prince

Jack Bruce

Keith Moon

Those in bold have lots of propaganda already, so they're low priority. Rules for submitting propaganda are in the FAQ. If there are multiple people in the photo, please tell me which one the propaganda's for. Good luck to the round two musicians!

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rosefilledpiano · 3 months

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New to this

Hello!! My name is Judas. Jude for short. I'm 17, and part of the LGBTQ community. (Aromantic and genderfluid). I'm an aspiring cryptozoologist, but I enjoy writing. I'm on here to practice writing, so please send in a request if you'd like. I don't have many boundaries, as long as it isn't incest, non-con, or pedophillia. I'll be writing for the fandoms under the banner.

Heroes of Olympus

Perseus (Percy) Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Grover Underwood

Luke Castellan

Thalia Grace

Nico Di Angelo

Clarrise La Rue

Will Solace

Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano

Jason Grace

Piper McLean

Leo Valdez

Hazel Levesque

Frank Zhang

Apollo/Lester papadopoulous (idek)

Sally Face

Sal Fisher

Larry Johnson

Ashley Campbell

Todd Morrison

Travis Phelps

Lisa Johnson

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun

Yashiro Nene

Hanako-Kun (Amane Yugi)

Kou Minamoto

Mitsuba Sousuke

Tsukasa Yugi

Sakura Nanamine

Natsuhiko Hyuuga

Aoi Akane (male??)

Akane Aoi (female?)

Yako

Hunter x Hunter

Gon Frecss

Killua Zoldyck

Kurapika

Leorio Paradinight

Alluka (platonic)

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Penelope Garcia

Ouran Highschool Host club (I forgot the last names, so I'll have to make it work)

Tamaki

Haruhi

Kyoya

Hikaru

Kaoru

Honey-Senpai

Mori

Gravity Falls

Dipper Pines

Mabel Pines

Grunkle Stan

Stanford

Wendy

Soos

School Bus Graveyard

Ashlyn Banner

Aiden Clark

Ben Clark

Tyler Hernandez

Taylor Hernandez

Logan Fields

The Night and It's Moon

Nox

Amaris

----- (This is my own little series I've dreamed up. Requests are accepted and encouraged. I need help creating the title name, though. So after a few chapters, I'll need recommendations. Here are the characters so far.)

Enid Wright

Rubi Lawrence

Selene Aedes

Liam Hernandez

Aries Deam

Tyler Aedes

Sammy Deam

That's all for the moment. I'll be writing x readers, smuts, etc. Please request something soon! Thanks for reading this far!

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artisticlegshake · 10 months

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THE DANCE AWARDS ORLANDO RESULTS 2023

SENIOR SOLOS:

1st Sam Fine - STARS JP!

2nd Robert Williams Nicolau - STARS JP!

3rd Destanye Diaz - STARS JP!

3rd Sofia Benning - EDX JP!

3rd Sebastien Leroux - ECOLE DE DANSE JP!

3rd Bella Tagle - STARS JP!

4th Jackson Roloff-Hafenbreadl - STARS JP!

5th Iliana Victor - STARS JP!

5th Caleb Monnell - WEST FLORIDA JP!

5th Kennedy Clouse - EDX JP!

5th Andres Jimenez - ARTISTIC EDGE JP!

6th Julia Lowe - EDX JP!

6th Zuzu Duchon - PROJECT 21 JP!

6th Sierra Drayton - EDX JP!

7th Ivanna Vaitkus - THE NINE JP!

7th Lamonte Sadler - CHARLOTTE PAA JP!

7th Angel DiMartino Palladino - VLAD’S JP!

7th Sammi Chung - PROJECT 21 JP!

7th Ally Pereira - STUDIO 61 JP!

7th Madison Mier - YOUR HAVEN JP!

8th Kristin Howell - EDX JP!

8th Sofia Gander - WEST FLORIDA JP!

8th Loila Rhee - PROEJCT 21 JP!

9th Claire Riegler - STARS JP!

9th Jayden Lan - VLAD’S JP!

9th Kaden Golding - EDX JP!

10th Maya Morrison - EDX JP!

10th Tatiana Hagee - NORTHPOINTE JP!

10th Isabella Weidmann - WESTCHESTER JP!

10th Yasmina Granic - CDC JP!

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thechanelmuse · 1 year

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My Book Review

I finished this book a week ago. I’m still struggling to put my thoughts into words because this book jam packs a load of history in 430 pages. Where does one start?

Bright Boulevards, Bold Dreams travels back in time to the founding of what would be Los Angeles in 1781 by a group of eleven families—forty four Black Spaniards— before building upon the land and establishing what would be the home of the film industry. This book spans six decades within the history of Black actors in Hollywood beginning with Madame Sul-Te-Wan, the first. It even includes those surrounding the Hollywood scene like dancer Carmen de Lavallade and Paul Williams, the foremost trailblazing Black architect who created the blueprint for the eye-catching structures and homes of the stars still standing firm today.

Bright Boulevards, Bold Dreams is a lot to take in from the bad to the good. It’s partly because the wealth of info would be more digestible had it been fleshed out further without creating a sweeping effect (like snippets) through moments in time to build the larger framework. After all, we’re talking sixty years.

I’m a cinephile so I would’ve enjoyed more focus into the actual creation of a number of films, particularly the all-Black productions in those days. As for the gossip scene and the 👀 happenings in their world, here’s a snippet: Duke Ellington had an affair with Freida Washington, whom she felt was the love of her life. Duke wouldn't leave his wife so Freida did work in Paris to keep busy and get over him. When she returned, she ended up marrying a member of Duke’s band 🙃. Also, Lena Horne had an on and off-again affair with heavyweight boxer, Joe Louis. Might be hella messy and pearl-clutching in our world, but you gotta remember Hollywood is its own world. Small. They operate differently and nothing is swept under the rug in their society. Though discreet, everyone knew everyone’s biz.

I can’t even imagine the amount of research that went into making this book. It’s def worth the read. Just know that it may feel a little dense because it’s so many actors, gigs ands so forth spanning decades.

PHOTOSET: Madame Sul-Te-Wan, Ernest “Sunshine Sammy” Morrison, Ethel Waters with Freida Washington, Daniel L. Haynes with Nina Mae McKinney, Mildred Washington, The Nicolas Brothers, Eartha Kitt with Sammy Davis Jr, Joe Louis with Lena Horne, and the Dandridge sisters: Dorothy and Vivian.

SN: Off-topic. The author’s surname, Bogle, caught my attention when I first got this book, which had to be about about 10 years ago now. (Yes, this book has been sitting on my shelf for that long...among the other 600+.) The only Black Americans I’m familiar with with that surname are from Philly dating back to chef Robert Bogle, the creator of catering:

Whad'ya know? The author too is from Philly. I’m curious if they’re related. That’s a book in and of itself.

#bright boulevards and bold dreams #donald bogle #robert bogle #thechanelmuse reviews #black history books #madame sul te wan #paul williams #carmen de lavallade #dorothy dandridge #eartha kitt #black hollywood

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joearlikelikeswrestling · 8 months

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#Sammy Guevara #Tay Melo #Tay Conti #Alan Angels #Aaron Solo #John Morrison #Brandon Cutler #AEW #All In #Griff Garrison

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thebunnybooknook · 9 months

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Books That Deserve to Be Inducted ( & Re-Inducted) into Coquette 'Girl Blogger' Canon

White Oleander by Janet Fitch

Everywhere hailed as a novel of rare beauty and power, White Oleander tells the unforgettable story of Ingrid, a brilliant poet imprisoned for murder, and her daughter, Astrid, whose odyssey through a series of Los Angeles foster homes-each its own universe, with its own laws, its own dangers, its own hard lessons to be learned-becomes a redeeming and surprising journey of self-discovery.

Jesus Saves by Darcey Steinke

From one of the most daring young writers in America, Jesus Saves, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year, is a suburban gothic that explores the sources of evil, confronts the dynamic shifts within theology, and traces the consequences of suburban alienation. Set in the modern launch pads of adolescent ritual, the strip malls and duplexes on the back side of suburbia, it's the story of two girls: Ginger, a troubled minister's daughter; and Sandy Patrick, who has been abducted from summer camp and now smiles from missing-child posters all over town. Layering the dreamscapes of Alice in Wonderland with the subculture of River's Edge, Darcey Steinke's Jesus Saves is an unforgettable passage through the depths of the literary imagination.

Sula by Toni Morrison

Nel and Sula's devotion is fierce enough to withstand bullies and the burden of a dreadful secret. It endures even after Nel has grown up to be a pillar of the black community and Sula has become a pariah. But their friendship ends in an unforgivable betrayal—or does it end? Terrifying, comic, ribald and tragic, Sula is a work that overflows with life.

Earthlings by Sayaka Murata

As a child, Natsuki doesn’t fit in with her family. Her parents favor her sister, and her best friend is a plush toy hedgehog named Piyyut, who talks to her. He tells her that he has come from the planet Popinpobopia on a special quest to help her save the Earth. One summer, on vacation with her family and her cousin Yuu in her grandparents’ ramshackle wooden house in the mountains of Nagano, Natsuki decides that she must be an alien, which would explain why she can’t seem to fit in like everyone else. Later, as a grown woman, living a quiet life with her asexual husband, Natsuki is still pursued by dark shadows from her childhood, and decides to flee the “baby factory” of society for good, searching for answers about the vast and frightening mysteries of the universe—answers only Natsuki has the power to uncover.

Brutes by Dizz Tate

In Falls Landing, Florida—a place built of theme parks, swampy lakes, and scorched bougainvillea flowers—something sinister lurks in the deep. A gang of thirteen-year-old girls obsessively orbit around the local preacher's daughter, Sammy. She is mesmerizing, older, and in love with Eddie. But suddenly, Sammy goes missing. Where is she? Watching from a distance, they edge ever closer to discovering a dark secret about their fame-hungry town and the cruel cost of a ticket out. What they see will continue to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Convenience Store Woman

Convenience Store Woman is the heartwarming and surprising story of thirty-six-year-old Tokyo resident Keiko Furukura. Keiko has never fit in, neither in her family, nor in school, but when at the age of eighteen she begins working at the Hiiromachi branch of “Smile Mart,” she finds peace and purpose in her life. In the store, unlike anywhere else, she understands the rules of social interaction—many are laid out line by line in the store’s manual—and she does her best to copy the dress, mannerisms, and speech of her colleagues, playing the part of a “normal” person excellently, more or less. Managers come and go, but Keiko stays at the store for eighteen years. It’s almost hard to tell where the store ends and she begins. Keiko is very happy, but the people close to her, from her family to her coworkers, increasingly pressure her to find a husband, and to start a proper career, prompting her to take desperate action

Breasts & Eggs by Meiko Kawakami

On a sweltering summer day, Makiko travels from Osaka to Tokyo, where her sister Natsu lives. She is in the company of her daughter, Midoriko, who has lately grown silent, finding herself unable to voice the vague yet overwhelming pressures associated with adolescence. The story of these three women reunited in a working-class neighborhood of Tokyo is told through the gaze of Natsu—thirty years old, an aspiring writer, haunted by hardships endured in her youth. Over the course of their few days together in the capital, Midoriko’s silence will prove a catalyst for each woman to confront her fears and family secrets

Luster by Raven Lelani

Edie is stumbling her way through her twenties―sharing a subpar apartment in Bushwick, clocking in and out of her admin job, making a series of inappropriate sexual choices. She is also haltingly, fitfully giving heat and air to the art that simmers inside her. And then she meets Eric, a digital archivist with a family in New Jersey, including an autopsist wife who has agreed to an open marriage―with rules. As if navigating the constantly shifting landscapes of contemporary sexual manners and racial politics weren’t hard enough, Edie finds herself unemployed and invited into Eric’s home―though not by Eric. She becomes a hesitant ally to his wife and a de facto role model to his adopted daughter. Edie may be the only Black woman young Akila knows.

The Moth Diaries

At an exclusive girls’ boarding school, a sixteen-year-old girl records her most intimate thoughts in a diary. The object of her growing obsession is her roommate, Lucy Blake, and Lucy’s friendship with their new and disturbing classmate. Ernessa is an enigmatic, moody presence with pale skin and hypnotic eyes. Around her swirl dark rumors, suspicions, and secrets as well as a series of ominous disasters. As fear spreads through the school and Lucy isn’t Lucy anymore, fantasy and reality mingle until what is true and what is dreamed bleed together into a waking nightmare that evokes with gothic menace the anxieties, lusts, and fears of adolescence. And at the center of the diary is the question that haunts all who read it: Is Ernessa really a vampire? Or has the narrator trapped herself in the fevered world of her own imagining?

Their Eyes Were Watchung God by Zora Neale Hurston

Fair and long-legged, independent and articulate, Janie Crawford sets out to be her own person—no mean feat for a black woman in the '30s. Janie's quest for identity takes her through three marriages and into a journey back to her roots.

#coquette #coquette aesthetic #bunnyburrow

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ronnymerchant · 10 months

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Bela Lugosi and Sammy Morrison- SPOOKS RUN WILD (1941)

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indigostreaking · 1 year

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could you do a headcannon of the boys taking care of you while sick? i’m super sick with the flu rn and just want affecting lol 🤍

Absolutely 🤭 I tried to vary the illnesses just for the sake of not being repetitive, but I genuinely think they’d all be very sweet and attentive.

Warnings: mentions of chronic illness, throwing up, and a whole lot of sweetness

Josh:

“You okay babe?” He asked as he walked in to your darkened bedroom. He had always been a morning person, rising with the sun. You usually slept in until mid morning, but you were woken by a cough. It was deep in your chest and rattled when you exhaled. You couldn’t breathe through your nose, so you let your mouth hang open as you shook your head. Josh walked closer, sitting down beside you and kissing your forehead gently as he held your face in his hands. “You feel pretty warm..would you like some tea?” He asked with an easy smile. You nodded this time, still far too early for words. He padded down the hall, returning moments later with a steaming mug. “I added some honey..good for the throat,” he sat down once more and held out the mug. You accepted it graciously, taking a delicate sip before placing it on your nightstand and snuggling into his lap. “Will you sing me a song?” You asked quietly and he smiled down at you, running his fingers through your hair while gently untangling the knots from sleep. He looked up and to the right as he searched his memory for the song he wanted, then back down to you as he began to sing Into The Mystic.

Jake:

“Soup’s done…want me to bring it to you, or do you want to venture out to the living room?” He asked as he leaned into your shared bedroom, hanging sideways on the door frame. You loved having him home and seeing him all domestic compared to his ‘usual’ rockstar vibe. He was wearing red flannel pajama bottoms that his mom got him for Christmas—she got a set for everyone so you could all match. His hair was pulled back in a low bun, which he did frequently when he cooked. “I can manage for soup, I guess,” you teased, not losing the sass even after sweating out a fever all morning. You wrapped the blanket around you and waddled after him, plopping yourself down on the couch while he brought over a bowl for each of you. “You’re gonna get sick if you stay this close to me,” you reprimanded between sniffles when he sat down close enough that your thighs were touching. “Don’t care,” he grinned before leaning in to kiss your forehead.

Danny:

“Y/n, you okay?” Danny asked gently after knocking on the bathroom door. You groaned in response before throwing up again. The door clicked open, and he padded in across the tile, frowning when he saw you sitting in the floor, draped over the toilet, in the middle of puking your guts up. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy, but you couldn’t find it in you. You looked up at him helplessly, and he sat down behind you without a word, removing the hair tie from his wrist to pull back your hair and rubbing your back soothingly. “You’re shaking…Do you think I can put you in bed?” He sounded nervous as he asked, but you nodded. You felt okay enough for the moment, so he scooped you up bridal style and carried you to bed, placing you gently and tucking you in. He trotted out of the room, returning with a trash can, some crackers, and a glass of ginger ale with a straw. He sat everything down and handed you the remote before settling in beside you. You took it and switched it to YouTube, turning on your comfort song without shame. Danny giggled and shook his head when Light My Love came on, but you could have sworn you heard him singing along before you fell asleep.

Sammy:

“Baby, it’s fine, I promise. Go take a bath and crawl back in bed. I’ll join you in a few,” Sam said sweetly after you told him you didn’t really feel up to the plans you had today. You were dealing with a flare up, and just felt exhausted and sore. He was an angel for being so understanding, and you made a mental note to make it up to him when you felt better. You turned on the faucet, letting the tub fill with warm water as you undressed. When you shut the water back off, you could hear Sam talking to someone on the phone. “Yeah, sorry but we’re not going to make it today. Y/n isn’t feeling well,” he said calmly, and you hated that he felt the need to be the one to let everyone know..but you loved him for it. “Well yeah, that’s what chronic means,” he was definitely annoyed now, bordering on angry, and you desperately wished you could hear the other person. “I don’t care if she ‘looks sick’. You don’t look like an idiot, but that didn’t stop you….yeah fuck you, too!” You heard his phone slam into the couch cushion and he sighed. You settled into the tub, knowing he’d come to you when he was ready, and like clockwork he appeared. “Who was that?” You asked softly. “No one important,” he replied plainly. “Room for one more?” He asked with a sly smirk.

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #gvf headcanons

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