#I had multiple people ask me why I draw ted with long hair that I resorted to making a diagram

[yourlocalabomination]

“Aside from TGWDLM (and a brief BF cameo), Ted Spankoffski has long hair and we as a fandom need to represent that more often within our fanworks, ” I say into the mic.

The crowd boos. I begin to walk off in shame when a voice speaks and commands silence from the room.

“They’re right,” he says. I look for the owner of the voice. There in the 5th row stands: Joey Richter himself, with long hair.

[nicknellie]

I had Thoughts™️ about Reggie so I wrote them down. A lot of what I say in this post will be me drawing from my own experiences so I’m asking everyone to be respectful when adding to this or giving criticism or whatever.

TW for dementia, specifically Alzheimer’s.

When Reggie was little, until about the age of five, he was really close with his grandfather (on his father’s side)

His grandmother had died long before Reggie was born, so his grandad lived alone

When little Reggie visited or when his grandad babysat him, Reggie would always have the time of his life

His grandad was a talented artist - he and Reggie would paint together, and no matter what Reggie’s end product was his grandad would stick it to the fridge and proudly ruffle Reggie’s hair

Reggie would help his grandad in the garden because caring for his plants was always a comfort to his grandad

His grandad would tell little Reggie stories about all the plants - how the fuchsias were little ballerinas, and toadstools were their homes, and how the dandelions would dance with the daisies and the daffodils

Reggie loved hearing all his grandad’s stories and they always made him giggle

They would play music together too; his grandad had a marvellous old grand piano and although Reggie was more suited to guitar he enjoyed plonking out chords to go with the pieces his grandad would play

One day, when Reggie was six, his father picked him up from school early

They drove straight past Reggie’s house, so Reggie asked where they were going

His father told him very simply, trying not to frighten or worry him, that his grandad had tripped over so they were going to go to the hospital to see if he was alright

Reggie was immediately worried - he didn’t want to see his grandad hurt

They found out that when he fell his grandad had hit his head and hip - his hip was broken and while he was in hospital he needed multiple surgeries all very close to one another in order to keep him alive

He was in hospital for months, having surgery after surgery

The doctors hadn’t thought that the head injury was that serious and they had been correct, but the many surgeries caused some sort of other trauma to Reggie’s grandad

Eventually, he was discharged from hospital and Reggie’s dad bought him a frame to help him walk

As the months and years went by, Reggie started to notice small changes in his grandfather’s behaviour

It started with the smallest things

“Blast,” his grandad would say, “I’ve lost my bloody keys, I bet that awful neighbour stole them!”

And little Reggie, only seven and very confused, would say, “They’re here on the table, grandad.”

And his grandad, usually mild-mannered and very kind to Reggie, would snatch them up off the table and snap, “You probably put them there, trying to hide them from me. Trying to make me look stupid.”

Whenever things like that happened, Reggie would put it down to his grandad being in a bad mood

But things just kept getting worse and Reggie couldn’t understand it

Once, he asked his grandfather to make him a sandwich

“What?” his grandad replied

“A sandwich,” Reggie had repeated, thinking his grandad just hadn’t heard him

He got a blank look in return

“I... a what, son?”

“A sandwich, grandad.”

“I... I don’t know... No, I can’t.”

Reggie hadn’t had an explanation for that one. He got up and made his own sandwich and one for his grandad too, which remained uneaten

Another day, when Reggie was about ten, he and his grandad were going to go on a walk together

“Don’t forget to lock the door, grandad.”

“Lock the door?”

Reggie had turned around to see his grandad stood in the open door, looking utterly bewildered

“Yeah,” Reggie said. “Come outside and lock the door behind you, then we can get going.”

His grandad slowly came outside and shut the door behind him, but then looked to Reggie for help

“Do you have the key, grandad?”

“Of course I’ve got the key.”

He didn’t actually have the key - Reggie had to go back inside to get it and found it on the kitchen table

He came back outside and showed his grandad how to lock the door

“Well, of course I knew how to do that,” his grandad huffed

For the most part, Reggie could ignore it - old people forgot things all the time, right?

And it wasn’t like his grandad forgot everything; they would still paint together and they’d play music and his grandad would tell him all his stories about his garden (maybe just not as eloquently as before)

When Reggie was eleven, his grandad said, “Pass me the television remote, Arthur.”

Reggie had laughed and handed him the remote, saying, “It’s Reggie, grandad. Arthur is my dad.”

Reggie’s grandad had looked bewildered

“Reggie?”

Reggie had nodded, starting to feel concerned

“Yeah, Reggie... I’m your grandson, remember?”

His grandfather hadn’t said he remembered, he had just looked away and got back to changing the TV channel

Similar things kept happening: he would call Reggie ‘Arthur’, or the name of Reggie’s uncle, or what Reggie learned from his father was the name of someone he’d befriended in the war

“Why does grandad get my name wrong?” Reggie had asked when he was twelve

His father had sighed and run a tired hand over his eyes

“He’s got dementia, Reg. Your grandad, he’s going to forget a lot of things. Like names, and how to do easy things, a—”

“And his own family,” Reggie had said, remembering how his grandad hadn’t known who he was

“It’s not easy, Reg. And I’m sorry that he doesn’t always know who you are.”

“How do we fix him?”

His father had looked away - later Reggie would realise that it was because he was crying. “We can’t. There isn’t a cure.”

It had taken Reggie a while to understand what exactly dementia would do to his grandad - it was hard to understand how he didn’t know how to swallow a pill when he could sing entire songs off by heart before the lyrics had even started

Reggie tried to carry on as normal as possible

He learned to respond to the names Arthur, Brian, Oliver, Christopher, Ted, and any other name that wasn’t his own

He learned that when his grandad said “spoon” he actually meant “cup”, which was an easy enough link to get

But sometimes his grandad said “pillow” when what he really meant was “washing machine”, or he’d say “bird” when he really meant “paintbrush” and mistakes like that were harder to unpick; it made communication hard and his grandad would get frustrated when he wasn’t being understood

Reggie was keen to find ways to connect with his grandad, but it all felt bittersweet and painful

His grandad still loved it when they would paint together, but where he’d once been able to create beautiful sweeping landscapes there were now only blotches of dilute colours and the odd shape here and there

They both still loved playing music together, but now his grandad’s fingers would stumble over the piano keys and he’d lose his flow

His grandad could hardly get outside to attend to his garden safely anymore

Reggie’s father started hiring carers to go in every day and look after him

When they were around they would boss Reggie about and tell him not to get in the way

He understood they were just trying to do their job, but he didn’t like the brisk, harsh, matter-of-fact way they handled his grandad

His grandad didn’t deserve that; he deserved patience and kindness and to be helped gently rather than forced

Visiting started to get painful - Reggie would go to his grandad’s house and he would have deteriorated severely even overnight

Conversations had become repetitive and almost impossible - Reggie would answer a question and be asked the same one not a minute later

Reggie visited less and less

He never stopped completely, but sometimes it would hurt so much that he would leave weeks in between visits and his grandfather started to forget him even more

He couldn’t help how much it hurt - he had all those memories of spending time with his grandad, talking and laughing and being loved, and his grandad was losing it all; Reggie was losing his grandad right before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it or make it easier

He just had to watch as he became less and less like the man Reggie had once known

Reggie tried writing songs about it once Sunset Curve formed

Luke helped him sometimes, but Reggie didn’t like it when he did that - Luke didn’t have the right experiences, so his lyrics were forced and inaccurate and sensationalised and they didn’t show what was really going on

He never managed to finish any songs about his grandad

One day, Reggie was going through some old stuff he’d found under his bed, and came across a box of paintings he must have done with his grandad

One of them was a black background with a white emblem on it, a sweeping line almost like a road

Reggie spent the entire night painting the same thing but on a much bigger backdrop, emblazoning it with the words ‘Sunset Curve’ and adding splashes of colour

He was no artist but he drew upon every technique his grandad had ever taught him and it looked good in the end

He brought it to the next rehearsal, asked the others if they could use it, and they all agreed

When Reggie was fourteen, his grandad was deemed unfit to live at home by himself and was moved into full-time care

He couldn’t take everything when he moved into the home, so Reggie and his parents had to sort through it all

His mother just threw anything away that didn’t seem important; his father kept things with sentimental value; Reggie didn’t want to throw anything out at all

By the end of two weeks, his own bedroom was filled with things he didn’t need but couldn’t bring himself to get rid of: old cigarette cards, a collection of toy cars, a dozen flat caps, a broken walking stick, toys Reggie had played with as a child, hundreds of other items

The magnificent old grand piano now was in Reggie’s living room

Reggie would visit his grandad at the home

His grandad despised living with all the other old people, but the carers were good at making him happy

He liked seeing Reggie even if he didn’t have any idea who he was

Reggie would bring his bass sometimes and have the volume as low as it would go, playing for his grandad in his room

His grandad loved it

Sometimes it could get too much for Reggie to be there - usually a carer would notice and provide him with an excuse to leave or take a breather

It hurt having to leave without saying goodbye, but it saved a lot of pain and confusion

A few days after Reggie’s fifteenth birthday, his dad got a call from the care home

His grandad had fallen again and was in the hospital

Reggie visited with his dad

His grandad was in bed, practically immobile - the doctors said he had broken his hip again

Nobody told Reggie, but it was obvious that recovery was unlikely

His grandad was sent back to the care home to be looked after, but was bed-bound

Reggie visited as much as he could, trying to make up for all the time he had missed when it had been too painful to go

One day, Reggie was shown into his grandad’s room and sat beside his bed as usual

His grandad turned to face him, smiled, and took his hand

“Reggie. It’s so lovely to see you. Thank you for coming to visit me, son.”

It had taken everything in Reggie’s being to stop himself from bursting into tears

He clutched his grandad’s hand tighter and shakily breathed, “Always, grandad. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

There was a pause

“I will miss you,” Reggie whispered

“And I will also miss you.”

That evening, just as the family sat down to eat dinner, they received a call from the care home telling them that Reggie’s grandfather had passed away in his sleep

It was over

Whenever Sunset Curve made money from gigs, Reggie made sure to donate some of his share to dementia charities and the care home that had looked after his grandfather

He tried writing more songs for him, but still couldn’t find the words

Every now and then, he would find a birthday card or something similar that his grandad had written him - his handwriting and spelling had got worse and worse as his dementia had progressed but Reggie’s heart swelled when he read them

‘Dearest Reggie, happy birthday. I love you very much. Grandad.’

Reggie kept that little note with him wherever he went

When Reggie died, he almost hoped he would get to see his grandad again, but he was glad that he didn’t - that meant his grandad had crossed over, which meant that his life had been fulfilled

And for the rest of his life and afterlife, fuchsias remained Reggie’s favourite flower

He would see them dancing on a breeze and hear his grandad’s voice telling him they were beautiful ballerinas who lived in the toadstools

It comforted him on his darkest days

This is a link to a post I made where you can learn more about dementia and donate to Dementia UK and the Alzheimer’s Society.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 1)

Gif by @classic-rock-roller

The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Original Female Character

Summary:  Rayne moved to LA a few years ago and has never really fit in.  While most of the Sunset Strip girls were movie star beautiful, with thin builds and blonde, Rayne stood at 5′10 in flats, had curves that no diet would make disappear and had big red curly hair.  The only person that ever made her feel normal was her best friend and room mate Jo.  One night Jo talks Rayne into going to a house party on the strip that promises to be a circus.  Rayne never expected to catch the eye of the ringleader himself.

Authors Note:  Hello everyone!  I’ve been so inspired reading so many of the amazing works people have written since The Dirt came out.  I’ve had this story in my head for a little bit and finally got the courage to put it to text and post it.  I’d love to hear any and all feedback anyone has, my asks and inbox will always be open!  It is my first time ever posting a fic, so if I do anything wrong or against the rules please let me know.  I think the community of people writing and reading these Dirt fics are amazing and supportive and I hope you all find some enjoyment in my story!  

I am also extremely inspired by music when I write so I’d be happy to post any and all songs that inspired chapters, or that I use in chapters.  Our first chapter is absolutely inspired by Stranglehold by Ted Nugent.  

On with the god damn show….

Word Count: 1,800

Chapter 1

Rayne looked herself in the mirror one final time before spraying a few more pumps of Flexnet into her voluminous red curly hair that fell down to the small of her back.  Rayne took the teasing comb to her roots one last time before using her hands to fluff her hair into place.  Her eye lids rimmed in black eyeliner smoked out with blacks and browns.  Her makeup was absolutely fitting of the place she was going tonight.  

Her best friend Jo had talked her into going over to a house party on the sunset strip.  Jo had gone to the Whiskey earlier this week to see a band and when she laid eyes on the singer she knew she wanted to fuck him.  Rayne had to give it to her friend, when she had a goal she achieved it no matter what.  As a matter of fact Rayne wasn’t even completely sure they were exactly invited to the party, but that wouldn’t stop Jo from getting what she wanted.  

“Ray!  Are you about ready I want to get over there!” Jo banged on the bedroom door.

Rayne looked over herself one final time in the mirror pulling her leather jacket on.  Rayne didn’t hate her body but she looked very different from most of the women she saw on a regular basis out on the Sunset Strip.  Rayne had curves, major curves, despite going to the gym on an almost daily basis.  She had large hips, a big ass, smaller waist and her boobs we’re much more than a handful.  Rayne also physically stood out on the Strip, standing at 5'10.  Most of the women on the Strip were stick thin, athletic, and flat as pancakes (except the strippers who loved their fake tits).  

Rayne knew she would get stares tonight and probably a few comments.  Tonight she chose leather pants that laced up at the crotch, they didn’t really fit her properly but she masked that with a loose fitted off the shoulder mesh top.  Around her neck was a leather collar with a D ring and her boots also had chains on them and jingled as she walked.

“Ray!  Come on!” Jo shouted once more hitting the door louder.

“Coming!” Rayne huffed opening the door sarcastically asking,  "Well, are you ready to go?“

“Oh Ray!” Jo whistled opening the front door.  "You trying to snatch up a dirty rocker boy tonight too?“

“Last thing I want.” Rayne laughed walking through the door locking it behind her.  "I’m going as moral support and hopefully some decent alcohol.  If they’re in a band they better have some decent booze.“

"Sure, sure.” Jo fiendishly smiled.  “Booze is good for you, it makes you more flirty.  Remember that time you got up on the ba…”

“Yes!”  Rayne raised her voice hushing her friend, “I remember it, although I wish every day that I could forget it.”

It didn’t take them long to walk to the apartment where the party was happening.  They were cat called multiple times on the way there, mostly aimed towards Jo, which she loved. Sometimes Rayne wish she looked like Jo, she was an average height, platinum blonde and a body to kill.  Jo could’ve been a Playboy bunny if she wanted to, but instead was in school to be a dental assistant.  Jo was also so confident, it was like she walked on air.  Where Rayne used her wit and sarcasm to deflect people, Jo used flirtation and charm to draw them in, together the two were ying and yang and had been friends since Rayne moved out to LA three years ago.

“I can hear the music from here, we’re getting close.”  Jo turned toward Rayne.  "We have to use the window, the door is apparently nailed shut from the cops.“

"Oh yeah I’m sure this is a good idea.” Rayne shook her head laughing to herself.

As they approached the apartment was crawling with people around their age.  It was a good mix but definitely leaned towards female.  Not a shock, especially if the rest of the band were as good looking as Jo described the singer to be.

“At least the music is good.”  Rayne complimented while they climbed the stairs and through the window.  Stranglehold by Ted Nugent had just started playing.  Rayne always thought it was a sexy song.  The apartment was small and packed with people, couples making out on the couch, guys puking in trash cans and girls leading men through various doors.

“I’m gonna go find Vince.” Jo purred into my ear, a devilish smile on her face.

“Alright I’ll be around.” Rayne said heading towards what she believed to be the living room.  To say it was sensory overload was an understatement as she looked around trying to take everything in.  Rayne saw one guy lighting himself on fire, and a group of guys doing lines off a plate before her eyes landed on a girl pulling on the arm of a brunette sitting at the table in the center.

“Check this out dude, you’re gonna fuckin freak.” The guy said before dropping to his knees going down on the girl in front of everyone.

Jesus Christ.  Rayne thought to herself before her eyes landed on a counter lined with alcohol bottles.  She took a step towards the counter, basically stepping over the two putting on a show for everyone.

There were plenty of bottles of Jack Daniels, which Rayne always thought tasted like piss.  But at the end of the line was a bottle of Jameson, still not her favorite whiskey, but she would have to make due with it.

The room was now filled with loud moans as everyone’s attention was on the act happening in the middle of the room.  Rayne unscrewed the lid and took a swig from the bottle.  Ah fuck it.  She heard the guy say people were gonna freak so she might as well stay and watch what was going to happen.

“Alright dudes, here it goes!”. The brunette said happily before standing up, looking over the room with pride before his eyes locked on the redhead across the room, the smile dropping slightly from his face.  His hand quickly went up to wipe his mouth of any remnants of cum from the girl.  The woman’s hand went straight to where his mouth had just left continuing to work herself until she screamed and a stream of liquid shot out of her.  Rayne stood there eyes wide she had never seen that outside a porno, and in all honesty didn’t even think it was actually possible.  The blonde woman kept her legs spread sounds of pleasure still coming from her as she came down from her high.

Deciding that she had seen enough, Rayne took the bottle of Jameson and grabbed for her pack of cigarettes.  As she turned to walk towards an outside balcony she saw she noticed the brunette man staring at her from across the room.  Or maybe not her.  Rayne didn’t know why he’d be staring at her when he obviously had a girlfriend.  She put a cigarette between her lips and made her way toward the balcony.  As she got outside Rayne lit her cigarette taking a long drag from it, blowing a steady ream of smoke from her lips.  She placed the bottle of Jameson on the ledge of the balcony and leaned over on her arms bobbing her head and hips to the music.

“Wow.” She heard from behind her, causing her to turn around startled.  Standing behind her was the brunette man from before, she didn’t realize how tall he was.  He towered over her, almost unbelievably so, she was used to standing taller than most men.  He was in a leather jacket and a black and red shirt with leather pants.

Taking another drag from her cigarette Rayne looked questioningly at the man in front of her.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” The man said.  

“Yeah well,” Rayne exhaled smoke.  "My friend is here to fuck your singer.“

The man chuckled, "She’ll have to get in line.”

It was Rayne’s turn to let out a healthy laugh this time, “You’ve never met my friend.”

“What’s your name?” He took a step closer to Rayne.

Rayne smiled up at him leaning in closer to him.  "Shouldn’t you be getting back to your girlfriend?“

"She’s not my…”

“TOMMY!  WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” A shrill voice shouted for him.  Rayne watched as he closed his eyes and sighed.

Taking a final drag from the cigarette and stubbing it out Rayne said again a smug smile on her face, “You should get back to her, Tommy.”

As she went to step around him to go back into the apartment she felt him gently grab her hand to stop her. “Tell me your name, give me that at least.”

Hm, so this is what Jo must feel like.  "I’ll see you around.“ Rayne said simply before walking back inside the apartment being immediately grabbed by Jo when she got back to the kitchen, Rayne was glad to see her friend it made her forget about the tingling sensation in her hand from Tommy’s touch.

"Oh my god Ray, I haven’t been fucked like that in my entire life.  You ready to go?  I accomplished my mission.” Jo smiled big, hair more messy than before and lipstick smeared.

“Yeah, let’s roll.  I want details.”  Rayne smiled at her best friend.

“Oh and you’ll get them.  Copious details.” Jo giggled happily wrapping her arm around Rayne’s waist.  "Anything of interest happen while I was getting off?“

Rayne looked around the apartment, eyes landing on the man she now knew was named Tommy who had just come in from outside.  His eyes were still locked on Rayne.  "Nope, nothing to report.”

“It’ll happen for you one day Ray.  I know it.” This is why Rayne loved Jo, she had a heart of gold when it came to her friends.  Rayne was a bit of a romantic but had sort of given up on the idea of romance since moving to LA.

“We shall see.”  Rayne looked down smiling softly.  "Come on let’s go home.  I’ll pour us both glasses of actual good whisky.“

Tommy watched the two girls as they exited through the window until they were out of sight.  "Tommy!  My man!  You know I can’t stand Bullwinkle but I’ll never tire of watching her squirt.”

“Nikki, I think I’m in love.”

“What with Bullwinkle?  No you’re in love with her pussy.” Nikki smacked Tommy on his back.

“No not with her.  Someone else.”  Tommy spoke as if in a daze.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy stood up straighter, “but I’m gonna find out dude.”