#I’m addicted to Hart to Hart

[amandaj718]

I really want a Jonathan Hart type to fall in love and marry me. Give me a mini family like Max and Freeway.

[missbutterworthless]

[i’m not a violent dog. i don’t know why i bite.]

The lead singer of BOTB’s Season 4 projected underdogs, Arlo Beck of Penny Arcade, declined further comment in regards to the threatening of a member of the media when questioned about former band mate and fellow competitor, Seven Lawless of Soft Violence.

Further Info Under the Cut!

TW for mentions of addiction 🫶

Introducing Arlo Beck, lead singer of Penny Arcade, a pop punk band of humble origins known most for their musically delivered political commentary and their revenge anthems (it is of particular note that such anthems were not common in the Lawless Era, with the band leaning far more heavily into charged love songs. Which could mean nothing.)

Fun Facts!

Beck is an Aquarius!

According to an insider source, beyond singing, Beck is quite capable with the ocarina.

Beck is known to juggle at any and every opportunity, regardless of who may or may not be watching. (He is apparently rather talented as well.)

Beck is known for accessorizing with heart motifs, noted by a previous local publication to be a nod to fellow bandmate Rowan Hart.

Beck often carries a bottle of quick dry black polish for ‘manicure emergencies’. He is known to have addressed such emergencies while on stage after chipping a nail during a performance.

Beck is often cited as the source for Penny Arcade’s ‘gimmick’ of collecting loose change in collection bins during a dedicated song at every performance. The change is then matched and donated to queer and at risk youth. Beck remains firm that every member of Penny Arcade, past and present, is equally responsible.

Picture Easter Eggs and more Fun Facts!

Arlo is wearing a WWOD? bracelet in the pic! The band got together to make bracelets with Orion’s most recent catchphrase while waiting for filming to start. Arlo made his particularly fruity. He also made a keychain version for Orion.

The time on Arlo’s phone is a nod to MCx7. Seven is, well, 7. And Arlo is 1 & 2 because his initials are the first and second letters of the alphabet. Hence, 7:12.

Arlo’s initial tattoo utilizes the S in SD as an infinity symbol. He acknowledges it is cringy. And poetically tragic.

Not shown is his tongue piercing, which Orion chewed him out for getting because his tongue was swollen and his speech slurred for nearly two weeks!

As stated above, he likes to wear motifs of his band members! Because he is a doofus! Most common because it’s his daily accessories is a heart motif for Rowan, but he also has jellyfish pendants and vampire bite chokers for Iris and different color bee pins for Devyn depending on their hair color! Jazzy is represented in the case he carries his juggling equipment in, which he takes literally everywhere after she bought him one for his birthday years ago. He is currently racking his brain for what to do for August!

43 of the 57 missed calls on his phone were from Orion. He knows because Orion’s ringtone is I Don’t Dance from High School Musical 2.

He is heavily addicted to nicotine (to Orion’s chagrin) and became a functioning (for now) alcoholic after The Fight™️. Prior, he imbibed during social functions but never alone and never when he had plans. Up until the audition, he never partook in other substances but caved into peer pressure. Despite his snark and notorius RBF, he is a chronic people pleaser.

The eyebrow slit is a scar from slicing his eyebrow open in Lucy’s diner after crashing head first into the dish station and shattering a plate. With his face. The scar is almost entirely faded but he can no longer grow hair there. He’s actually really insecure about it and has considered getting the spot microbladed.

That’s all for now folks! I mostly wanted to share my art :) I adore @infamous-if and have been playing with Arlo as my MC since Day 1! He finally fully clicked in my head and after days of attempting to find a face claim or craft him in the sims I decided to crack open Ye Olde iPad and do it myself!

Please feel free to share any fun facts about your own Infamous OCs! Regretfully my friends stay firmly opposed to interactive fiction so I am starved for fellow Infamous fans

[absgay]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ “I don’t see no point in blaming you, If I were you I’d do me too.” ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

word counts: 1,2K.

“Something about me, got you hooked on my body. Take you over and under and twisted up like origami.”

warnings: 18+ minors dni, grammar, f*buddy!abby, college!abby, some angst, jealousy, toxic? idk, smut.

next part here: hart to get.

Abby sighed peacefully as she watched you search for your clothes with satisfaction. It shouldn’t have happened, not again. But it’s always been complicated, you couldn’t resist her. “It won’t happen, ever again…” you said. “We were supposed to talk.”

Abby chuckled and sat down against the headboard, all sweaty and breathless. “You don’t have to leave right away.” She looked outrageously good, standing by the bed and putting on some boxers. “We’ve already had this conversation two weeks ago.”

“It’s different this time.” you responded, eyes bright and cheeks still flushed. “I’m trying to move— Listen, I’m seeing someone who’s really nice to me and I won’t let anyone ruin it.” Abby scoffed, unconvinced. “It’s over.”

“Sure…” Abby mumbled, approaching you. “You should’ve thought about that thirty minutes ago.” you sighed. “Come on— Don’t you think it’s cute how we always end up having sex, it’s almost an addiction.”

And there it was: Abby Anderson’s damn cocky smirk. You hated it as much as you secretly loved it. The blond seemed too amused, increasing your annoyance as you looked away, searching for something else to focus on rather than the woman’s abs.

“It’s over, Abby.” you repeated quietly. “I mean it.” You sounded unsure, tormented by your own words as you looked back at her beautiful face. “We can’t see each other anymore, we shouldn’t—” Abby’s eyes narrowed, hands reaching to grab yours. “Please— Don’t.”

Abby frowned as you pulled away. “Who is it?” You could feel the woman’s sudden irritation and frustration growing towards you as she waited, arms crossed. “Tell me!”

“It’s none of your business.” Abby nodded, threateningly. “We’re not together, you’ve made it clear, many times. I don’t owe you shit.” you trembled as she stared at you silently.

She chuckled. “You’re gonna have to explain to your little girlfriend how you ended up with a brand new hickey.” you glanced at the sensitive bruise in the mirror and rolled your eyes. “Don’t even start, because I don’t recall you complaining about it earlier today. In fact, you were begging me to fuck you—”

“Seriously? You’re insufferable!” you groaned embarrassedly and headed straight to the exit. You had one weakness: her. Obviously, Abby knew about it and never missed an opportunity to remind it to you.

She reacted immediately, right hand leaning on the wooden door as you tried to open it, slamming it shut. She moved it down to your wrist, spinning you around to look at you with concern.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked quietly. “Oh— Don't you remember what happened to you, the last time you tried to run away from me? At this party, in the bathroom?” Abby radiated so much confidence, insolence and charm. She didn’t even know how much it affected you, thank god. “Shit— You came so hard on my fingers, you couldn’t even walk properly afterwards…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you responded, flustered and annoyed, glancing at the woman’s mouth. Of course you remembered, the suffocating heat and the obscenities still fresh in your mind. “Jesus— Fuck you.” you murmured, craving the blond’s touch again. She looked too good, too sinful to be true.

Abby smiled. “Beg me.” She wanted to give in as much as you. It was consuming, almost unbearable. You stared at each other with need, too stubborn to let the other one win. “Do you really think anyone else could fuck you this good?” You felt weak and vulnerable as you stumbled back into the door like an idiot. “Tell me.” Abby leaned forward, trapping you against it. “Come on— Answer me.” she murmured near your ear.

“I—” you swallowed hard, throat dry. “We hooked up.” you admitted timidly. The blond frowned and snorted, confused. “I hooked up with her…”

“You did not—” Abby huffed, teeth clenched. The blond’s eyes hardened and narrowed into slits as she stared at you with disappointment. How could anyone else see such a vulnerable side of you? You belonged to her. “You fucked someone else!” she shouted, stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Come on— Are we really gonna pretend you haven’t been messing around with anyone else behind my back ever since we started to hook up?” you asked. “When we first met, you had a different woman in your bed every single—”

“Tell me.” Abby demanded. “How was it? Did you enjoy it?” The bitterness and the undeniable tension turned you on. Usually, you were the jealous and possessive one. You’ve had to sit and watch Abby flirt with an enormous amount of women for the past months, it’s the blond’s turn now. “Let me guess, it didn’t feel as good as it does with me? So— That’s why you decided to come here tonight, because no one understands your body better than I do.”

You chuckled at the woman’s assumptions, in denial. It wasn’t bad but not great either, the real problem was that you had thought about Abby the entire time. She was right, it was an addiction. She lived in your mind rent free, constantly obstructing your thoughts and feelings on a daily basis. It pissed you off.

“It drives you nuts, doesn’t it?” Abby huffed and smirked, she enjoyed your audacity way too much. “I mean— Think about it, I had sex with someone else, someone else touched me.” Abby remained silent, delighted as she pictured herself spanking the attitude out of you. “Someone else made me scream, made me theirs—”

Abby hummed as you moaned pathetically, the blond’s hand wrapped tightly around your throat. She loved how miserable you looked in this exact moment, only for her. “Watch your mouth…” Abby warned as she pulled it closer to hers. “Or I’ll shut it down myself.”

“Like she did.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, maybe you went too far, on purpose. As soon as the words left your mouth, something switched inside Abby. The conversation turned into a heated argument which led to an animalistic make out session: skin flushed and bruised, curses and obscene ideas shared as she pressed you against the sheets once again. Abby held the headboard with one hand and slammed into you hard and fast, the blond’s messy braid falling to the side.

“Shit— Abby.” you moaned between choked breaths, Abby’s hand moving to your thigh and holding it tight as you wrapped your legs around the woman’s waist.

“Look at you— So beautiful and all spread out for me.” she said and slowed down. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” And then, she almost lost control as you whined with pleading eyes, wanting more. “Holy shit— You’re gonna be a good girl and let me ruin this pussy all night, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” you moaned in pure bliss. “Please— Abby.”

Jesus Christ, Abby was gone. She wanted to eat you alive, she had never felt so attracted to someone before: you looked like an angel with the nastiest mind ever and she loved it so much. You screamed and wrapped your arms around her broad shoulders as she slammed deeper and deeper into you. You pulled the woman’s warm chest against yours, your swollen lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss.

Shit, it definitely wasn’t over between you two.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

[nose235678]

Finished my first play through with my Crow!Rook!

I’m devastated! My Lavellan’s happy ending broke my heart and the Lucanis romance is wonderful!

But am I gonna take a break? No, not for a second!

Warden Var’fen “Rook” Thorne reporting for duty!

Her parents left her clan during the Fifth Blight, after they fought with the other Dalish in Denerim and King Alistair refused to honor his promise of land to the Elves. Offering their skills to the Grey Wardens as trackers in the Anderfels where she’d discover her magic and live as an apostate. Training to be a healer with Warden Mages until they invited her to join them on a trip to the newly emerged Kal-Sharok and stumbled into a nest of Darkspawn.

Barely managing to clear them out, but not before Var’fen was blighted and subsequently took the Joining at the age of 23. Suffering a rare side effect of the ritual that turned the sclera of her eyes black. Meeting Varric shortly thereafter and at 24, using a fake last name since joining the Wardens, they would make their move against the Dread Wolf.

Doing whatever it took to stop his ritual…

Her likes include:

*Cioccolata calda ☕️ (never had chocolate until Varric bought her a cup and was addicted ever since)

*Dogs 🐶 (left mabari, Josa behind with her family when she left to hunt Solas)

*Rocks 🪨 💎 (picks up a pebble or crystal wherever she goes. Most are just cool looking lumps of granite)

*Giving gifts to friends 🎁 (gifts may or may not be pebbles that “remind her of them” and no, she will never explain what she means)

*Harts 🦌(her parents raise them for mounts to herd halla. Brought them along from Ferelden to the Anderfels when they moved)

*Smoking Elfroot 🍃(helps with period pain; bad before, but the Joining made it worse)

Her dislikes include:

*The Chantry ⛪️(only got her vallaslin to keep Templars from dragging her off to a Circle)

*Dracolisks 🦎(saw one lick its own eye like a gecko once and never recovered. Scarred for life)

*Cooked vegetables 🥦 (if it’s slimy? She will die before eating it, but likes salads, carrots and has been yelled at more than once for shuffling around the pantry/kitchen, eating a whole bell pepper/cucumber/tomato, like a rabbit)

*Taxes 💵(self-explanatory)

Who she’ll romance:

This dapper gentleman, whom she met once before while recruiting conscripts in Nevarra City. Bumping into him on her way out of the city dungeon while he was leaving the morgue after corpse-whispering to help solve a murder. Never exchanged a word, but she remembered his polite apology (the first she’d ever received from a Shem) for nearly knocking her over and he remembered her eyes.

[red-riding-wood]

Yellow Light

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x F!Reader

Summary: Jonathan is your guide as you escape Arkham Asylum.

Based off the song "Yellow Light" by Of Monsters and Men (original version here and acoustic version here). This song is really special to me and helped me brave my heart surgery in August. A lot of this fic is a projection of my own experiences, trauma, and health issues over the past several years -- but Arkham can represent absolutely anything you want it to that you or the character is trying to escape.

Song lyrics are in bold.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of PTSD (hospital trauma specifically), drug addiction/use, psychosis, hallucinations, fear of death, blood.

Will also use similar themes to my upcoming series "Darkness Until Dawn" and OC Cassie Hart but this is a standalone x reader fic.

I also feel like Crane might come across a bit OOC in this fic because he's in an established relationship with the reader and he's in a comforting role, but I promise I have some very fucked-up stuff for him coming up where he's an absolute menace.

WC: 3309

Sounds of Hell threaded themselves into the night air. Howling, bleating, baying down the streets. Whispering thoughts of death into your ears. Thoughts that formed into icy talons that raked down your spine, that stirred goosebumps along the bare flesh of your arms. That froze you in place, your heart slamming against your ribs as they tethered you to the cold concrete like vines.

Frantic looks cast to your left, to your right, you turned, stumbling over your own feet as you whirled, the darkness of each alleyway sinking into your soul. Staring back at you as if to say, you cannot escape me.

I’m looking for a place to start. Everything feels so different now.

Which way was out? Which way was back there? Back to the dingy halls of Arkham, the acrid stench of spoiled cafeteria food, the howling of patients that still seemed to echo back to you from the alleys.

The maw of a great beast parted, razors of teeth glinting silver in the dark, stretching from one brick wall to another. Hurtling towards you, wisps of black smoke emerging from the darkness and curling round you like hissing tongues. The roar started as a peal of thunder, and ended as a shockwave, razor teeth shattering into glass as the beast collided against your skull. Dizzying waves sent the world spinning, brought you to your knees before the Devil himself.

She’s good as dead.

The beast’s maw burned hot as hellfire, breathing smoke into your aching lungs, ripples of molten lava racing beneath your skin. Teeth tore into your shoulder as your hand met the ground, shaking fingers settling into the grooves of the concrete like cold tiles. Death’s talons wrapped around your throat as a cry twisted from your larynx, pointed nails morphing to scalpels and tearing down your sternum, splitting open your ribs and baring your bleeding heart.

Crimson freckled the concrete, splatters of your blood landing hot and thick against the back of your hand as cold washed over each limb, the darkness creeping in from the corners of the alleys. You reached your free hand to your forehead, and nearly cried out again in pain, but you couldn’t speak; something sharp wedged itself between your fingers, something sticky attaching webs of hair against your clammy palm.

Your hand came away with a shard of glass protruding from the stretch of skin between your fingers, red dribbling down flesh too pale to be living.

Your stomach buckled, and you curled in on yourself, eyes rolling to the back of your throbbing skull and voices pouring in like a tide.

Get back here! She’s running. Running away. Where does she think she’s going? She’s not going anywhere. She can’t escape us. You can’t escape us.

Patients rattled the bars of their cages, threw themselves against their padded walls. Screeched warnings and mournful wails and haunted cries into the stale air of the hospital, into the icy chill of night.

Fingers seized into talons as they closed around your ears, attempting to block out the noise as it built into a terrifying crescendo, wails and whispers melding together as if the darkness were mocking you but the chill that swathed your impotent form reminded you of your isolation.

GET OUT! your lips parted to say but fell silent upon the words of the damned. Let me go. Let me go, let me go.

Warmth brushed your shoulder, and you blinked saline from your eyes, streaking salt down your lip, dampened hair falling over blurry vision as you looked up to the hand held to you in the darkness. The white cuff of a shirt disappearing beneath a black suit.

Just grab hold of my hand. I will lead you through this wonderland.

And his voice, soft and warm and human, cut through the noise. Hollowed a path through the tunnel of voices and breathed life into lungs that gasped for air. Sent a tremble of fear through death’s icy talons and made the demons crawl back into the earth.

I’m here, he said.

You couldn’t straighten your claw-like grip as it brushed the warmth of his hand, but his fingers entwined in yours and the glass split his palm and bled over your knuckles and he pulled, your shoulder screaming in pain and your legs wobbly beneath you, but you stood.

Your fingers balled into a fist, the touch of his hand dissolving like a pill in water, like sutures that held you to together for one moment only to leave you in pieces, scarred and bruised and broken. For a moment, you thought you’d fall again.

Faintly, a glow emerged from the blackness, silhouetting the lazy fall of a feather, so tranquil in contrast to the tendrils of ink black that writhed in your peripheral. You swiped a hand out to the feather, its softness akin to his hand, but the voices hissed at you to look up.

The jagged peaks of the skyscrapers groaned above, folding in across the dim sky and curling into black tides that came crashing around you as pressure mounted in your skull.

The darkness devoured you. 

Water up to my knees. But sharks are swimming in the sea.

The ocean came flooding in around you, dampness seeping into the cuffs of your trousers, rising as the blackness pressed in around you. Ahead, the light glinted yellow, casting a thin line of white against the waves. The feather bobbed along the surface, chased by current that now buffeted the backs of your knees.

One foot placed before the other, you waded through the water, each step weighing heavier than the last. Each time, the light ahead grew just a little brighter, though the sides of your vision darker.

Wretched creatures began to emerge from the darkness, hissing and snarling and reaching for you in tendrils of smoke and ink. Gravity began to pull you downward, the current guiding you forwards as the alleyway morphed into a tunnel, and the voices of the underworld rang louder in your skull as you descended into the bowels of the city.

She’s heading into the darkness. The rot.

A giggle, echoing against the walls of the chamber that reeked of all things barren and desolate. Her mind’s a disease.

The reach of death grew thick here, in twisted ropes and vines that swallowed the arched ceiling, that bore down on you like snakes and streaked through the sea like eels of tar, the water itself no longer seeming so heavy in comparison as they engulfed each limb. Tightening. Shuddering.

She can’t get very far. She’s killing herself.

She has to. She has to live.

The voices were starting to argue.

Some were even voices you knew; they came to you past the iron bars nestled into pockets of your memories, depressions in the walls – people you’d known in that awful place cried out to you, cursed you, their faces fuzzy but still recognisable even in the darkness. Fellow souls trapped in the place that knew not of the sun’s warmth against your skin or the whistle of freedom through the wind.

Look. Look, girl.

Your brow furrowed, and your eyes scanned the darkness. With each face they landed on, the symphony of wails seemed to spike in volume along to the frantic thud of your heart, the little weaving line of a monitor etching itself across your mind’s eye.

Not there. No, not there.

Can’t she feel it?

It’s too late. The rot has her.

Soon it will reach her soul.

Your heart came lurching to a burning throat as the waters stirred and a creature emerged from their murky depths, slivers of metal protruding from its back before it disappeared, for half a moment resembling the wicked tips of syringes that still pricked your swiftly numbing skin.

Tearing your hands from the water, you froze, paralysis seeping in to every pore.

Ink tendrils snaked across the pallor of your flesh. From your fingertips to your elbows, the rot had taken you. It tightened round your forearm, your fingers turning completely numb.

You screamed.

Shhhhh, he soothed. Just come to me, darling. I’ll make it all better.

“JONATHAN!” Your mangled cry turned into something intelligible, the name sweet like honey on your tongue despite the bitterness of bile at the back of your throat.

Just follow my yellow light. And ignore all those big warning signs.

You began to slosh through the water, seeking him out in a frenzy, your teeth gritting as the walls of your skull began to cave in, as the rot spread to your shoulders and turned the water to pitch.

And at last, you saw him. Like the feather, silhouetted by the light, but unmistakably him. He paused, looking over his shoulder, strands of his black hair wisping this way and that. His face was shadowed, the sockets of his eyes black. The frames of his glasses glinted silver in the dark, like the teeth, the scalpels.

And he disappeared round the corner that twisted, walls shifting and shuddering as if forming a maze for a path.

Death’s icy fingers pried their way beneath your skin as the cold seeped past your blood and bones and settled somewhere deep inside the dwindling warmth of your soul. Freed from the water at last, you turned the corner and raised a rot-wreathed hand to the light fractured by a criss-cross pattern that reminded you of the bars of the asylum’s gate.

And the damp air became dry and musty, and the sewers morphed into dingy halls, alabaster wallpaper peeling back to reveal the black rot. Your pace quickened as these walls closed in, groaning with curses of the damned.

Just a little farther, the soothing, slightly-lilted baritones of his voice encouraged you on, but every turn you made down the narrowing halls, he managed to evade you, disappearing just out of reach. At the end of each hallway, what must’ve been a sewer drain and not a gate yawned from the blackness, little pockets of light stretching wider with each turn.

The feather crunched beneath your toes.

Fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate, and the hinges squealed as it swung open, your feet slotting into indentations along the walls as you desperately attempted to pull yourself up.

Warmth made you shiver in your cold sweat, and whispers funnelled into thin threads and lay buried beneath the ground as his hand met yours. In the faint glimmer of the light, you witnessed the rot dissipate, chased away by his touch. Purified.

“Jonathan,” you breathed, pulled flush to his chest, the mint of his breath raking across your lashes and the familiarity of his musk inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. You buried your face in his wrinkled tie and dress shirt and sobbed, your tears still tasting like saline. You savoured this moment, trembling beneath his touch, his hand petting the back of your dampened hair. You pulled away only as he hissed in pain.

“Jonathan, I’m scared,” you whimpered, guilty that you had seemed to wound him but caring only for sanctuary in this moment in which you knew nothing but fear. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so, so scared.”

“I know you are,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “But you have to keep going.”

“Where? Where are you taking me?” You stared into the hollows of his eyes, still pitch black past the glint of those silver frames. Why couldn’t you properly see him? Could he see you? Was he just another shadow, a trick of light on the wall?   

Somewhere deep in the dark, a howling beast hears us talk.

Sirens wailed from the alley behind, and your blood ran cold. Jonathan stepped away, his touch tearing from yours almost painfully. Like he’d left the shards of glass in your palms.

“Don’t let them take me!” You pleaded, stumbling forward through the darkness. “I can’t go back! I can’t! COME BACK!”

She’s so afraid. So pathetic. She can’t do this without him.

The light grew in intensity, tinted more gold now than yellow, bathing the walls in a soft glow as they drew impossibly close, tapering the air in your lungs, building the pressure against your temples until your shoulders sagged under the weight of fatigue and white-hot fire cleaved your skull in two.

Jonathan paused, and turned. “Close your eyes,” he told you. “It’s not so dark here when you embrace it.”

I dare you to close your eyes. And see all the colours in disguise.

“NO!” You screeched, afraid that if you so much as blinked, he’d disappear, and you’d be lost to the darkness forever. You lurched forward on your heel, wedging yourself between the shuddering walls that closed in around you, following the same – and only path – he had taken. Turning sideways, you gulped in a breath of air, fingers scraping madly against the brick walls as the tide beginning to pool again round your ankles. The sky collapsed, pinning you, forcing your only breath from your lungs and snapping your ribs around your stuttering heart.

She’s gone. She won’t make it. She can’t reach him.

The air grew stuffy, stale. Your own breath bounced off the walls and flushed your cold, tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just trust me,” Jonathan said. “Just let go.”

Running into the night. The earth is shaking and I see a light.

With the darkness claiming you and the ground beneath you quaking with wrath, the howls of the damned echoing through a familiar hall, the world swaying on its axis, you had no choice but to suffocate your fear, to shutter your eyes closed on the light that seeped through the crack in the walls, warm against your skin in the cold dread of night.

She’s giving up.

She’s fighting.

She wants to die.

She wants to live.

The yellow-gold exploded across the backs of your eyelids, streaking like fireworks along the pitch black. Your skull still throbbed in pain, and your lips parted, the sound of a window banging against old hinges as death whispered to you through the alleys, the sewers, the hallways.

Next time.

Jonathan’s touch met your clammy palm, and the world fell silent, the walls disappearing around you and the emptiness of air spilling around your limbs.

I’m here, he reminded you.

The light is blinding my eyes, as the soft walls eat us alive.

Your eyelids peeled back to reveal the checkered, rose pattern of your wallpaper, the bright fluorescents of the bathroom, the blue eyes that bore into your own past silver frames. Slivers of ice encroaching on ink black pupils, cold and calculating yet echoing a familiar warmth.

He loosened the makeshift tourniquet from your arm, pins and needles racing from your fingertips to your elbow. A syringe of your favourite poison lay on the bathroom tile, beige powder swirling in a sea of saline.

“Come back to me. Come back to me, please,” he begged, as if for this moment alone, he allowed himself to believe in the higher power you knew he cursed.

Water seeped into your clothing like the sea of pitch, spilling from the bathtub that you had left on. It carried little rivulets of crimson around a minefield of glass. He didn’t seem very concerned with turning it off right now, despite always bitching at you about saving electricity or water. His eyes were on you, and only you.

“Jonathan,” you mumbled weakly, though you thought you screamed; your eyelids fluttered and your heart pounded faster in your chest as the darkness threatened to spill across your vision again. Your nails dug past the fabric of his suit, gripping his arm tight so that he could never let you go.

“I’m here,” he breathed, and reached his other hand around your neck to cup your head, to bring you forward. You glimpsed the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, bloodied where you’d tried to steady yourself with your hand after you’d bashed your skull against the mirror – your ineffectual attempt to cast the demons out. Glass shards lay scattered against the tile. Fragments of your broken reflection.

You still remembered the haunted look you’d hoped to banish from your eyes.

“You have to get your head out of that place,” he murmured against your scalp, his fingers bloody and sticky as he brushed shards of glass from your hair, seemingly immune to the pain. “You’re not in hospital anymore. You’re here. With me. You have to come back to me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “I can’t escape them,” you admitted, voice a mere whimper. “I can’t escape it. You’re here to take me back, aren’t you? You’re gonna lock me up.”

For a moment, you really thought that he might; his palm still rested, warm and bleeding, against your cheek, but his cold blue eyes studied you not as his lover but as his patient, assessing your condition. He sighed, as if disappointed. Shame crawled its way beneath your skin like the cockroaches that had infested the asylum’s lower wards. You had always been so desperate for his approval, he rarely saw this side of you since your rehabilitation. It wasn’t until slivers of ice shattered into twin pools of blue fire that relief began to seep into you, slow and warm but whelming.

“No. No, I’m not,” he said, voice gentle, soothing. Blue eyes glanced to your head again. “Though, you are showing symptoms of a concussion…”

Your heart sped in your chest, and the icy talons of death speared your soul, the darkness hedging the borders of your vision. Innerved by your fear, you reached for the bottle of tiny white pills that lay open, haphazard next to you. But the warmth of his hand left your face, and your fingers clenched around nothing. In a blur of movement, Jonathan threw the bottle at the toilet and it clattered against the back of the seat. You jolted, gasping, wincing as the jagged teeth of the beast sliced through your clothing.

“You prescribed me those,” you told him. “They’re supposed to make me better. You said so yourself.”

“I’ll fill you a new prescription tomorrow. Taper you off. They were no good for you,” he said, and laced his fingers through the bloodied locks of your hair. Pulled your forehead to his so that your breaths became one, and the demons in your skull grew muffled, and his warmth chased away the icy touch of death.

“What am I gonna do?” you whimpered, sobbing, hands grasping feebly at whatever you could grab hold of – his sleeve, his tie, his collar. You felt as if your soul, your mind, were laying in fragments around you like the glass, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t piece them back together. “I just want to be free. I just want to be okay.”

“I know.” He inhaled, closing his eyes, and his grip tightened on your hair, scalp stinging slightly at the almost needy action. Like in this moment he was more afraid of losing you than you were him.

Even he thinks she’s a lost cause.

And Jonathan was never one to utter false truths; because you knew this about him, his silence unnerved you. But finally, after what could’ve been hours or minutes of your pitiful sobbing and the endless drone of the tub, the trickling of water against the tile, he said,

“I’ll be right here, darling. All you need to do is take my hand.” The warmth of his palm slotted into your own, and you wove your fingers so tight that your knuckles turned white around the blood that trickled down both your wrists from the jagged glass that barbed your flesh. A seal. A pact.

“I will see you through this,” he said. “All of it. I promise.”

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @purplesnorlaxplush @drcranessweetestdoe @goblinjnr @mizzbel @s0urmarvel @onasmoko @elenavampire21 @rysko @chris-seb-marvel @muhahaha303 @novemberschy @thatonesinglefriend @forgottenpeakywriter @your-nanas-house @onehornedbeast @kiss-me-cill-me @ilovefictionalpsychopaths @birminghamshelbyboys @sometimes-i-sing @olivialveshbc @urlivingdeadgirl @kadethomes @iwannadie07 @persephonaoflove @ssweetleaf @a-nemoiia @cillianhead

[the-golden-comet]

✨🏴‍☠️Bold the Facts Tag🏴‍☠️✨

The lovely @mysticstarlightduck has once again gone out of their way to make a very creative tag game, so I’m here to try it with my OC Peter from Peter Hart

Peter Hart

✧˖°. PERSONAL

$ Financial: wealthy/ moderate/ unsure/ poor / in extreme poverty 

✚ Medical: fit 🔥🔥🔥/ moderate / sickly/ disabled / non-applicable 

✪ Class: upper / middle/working / unsure /other 

✔ Education: qualified/ unqualified / studying / other 

✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes/no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

✧˖°. FAMILY

◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children/ wants children (eventually)

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) /has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / abandoned / adopted/ found family / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

✧˖°. TRAITS + TENDENCIES

♦ extroverted / introverted/ ambivert

♦ disorganized / organized/ in-between

♦ close-minded / open-minded / in-between 

♦ calm / anxious / in-between / highly contextual

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in-between

♦ cautious / reckless / in-between / highly contextual

♦ patient / impatient / in-between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in-between / highly contextual 

♦ leader (reluctantly) / leader (gladly) / follower / in-between 

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in-between / highly contextual 

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in-between

♦ traditional / modern / in-between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in-between 

♦ cultured / uncultured / in-between (depends on the culture) / unknown 

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown / highly contextual 

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown / highly contextual (in his case: faithful in a relationship sense but not in a religious sense)

✧˖°. BELIEFS

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic 

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a matter of speaking 

✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking 

✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking 

�� Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care 

✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

❀ Philosophical: yes / no / highly contextual

✧˖°. SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual/ nonbinary

❥ Sex: sex-repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless 

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious 

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious 

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / both (but has little interest in sex) / agender / other / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / both / agender / other / none / all

✧˖°. ABILITIES

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none 

≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none 

✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✧˖°. HABITS

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / tried it / alcoholic / former borderline alcoholic turned sober 

☁ Smoking: tried it (but hated it and never tried it again) / trying to quit / already quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker 

✿ Recreational Drugs: tried some / never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict 

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess 

☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater 

$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic 

♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gamble

I will gently tag the following (no pressure): @gioiaalbanoart , @alinacapellabooks , @lychhiker-writes , @somethingclevermahogony , @wyked-ao3 , @fortunatetragedy , @jev-urisk , @sableglass , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @willtheweaver , @aintgonnatakethis , @theink-stainedfolk , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @leatafandom , @thebearthatreads , @paeliae-occasionally , @agirlandherquill , @ceph-the-ghost-writer , @marlowethelibrarian , @thatuselesshuman , @noxxytocin , @nczaversnick , +open tag! 💛✨

[transmutationisms]

have you read drug use for grownups by dr. carl hart? saw it quoted in a post you rbed about… something anti psych or drug related (sorry i’m high don’t remember details) anyway i started the book and it harps a lot on personal responsibility in a way that i don’t love? he also keeps unironically citing the declaration of independence? anyway enjoy the eddie

yeah, i forget if i finished it i think i maybe just read chapters. i did write smth about it on here as well, but this might have been when i'd only read like a paper from him or something. i'm tagging his name the other post is probably in that tag.

anyway yeah he is a huge cornball liberal, i think there is value in his work where it challenges shitty science practices in the drug literature (like about what addiction even means, how prevalent it actually is by those varied definitions, what the actual risks are of various substances) but he has basically no useful actual commentary on policy or even like a basic understanding of how political power works, where drug policy comes from & what purpose it serves, etc etc. for me he goes in the bucket of Did some useful groundwork but citations of him should be limited and local and integrated into a wholly different analysis -- which is true for many liberal academics eg many historians lol

[ohbo-ohno]

Okay so BO!!! I have two brain worms lately that I wish to share but I’m only gonna tell you the one now because I’m lazy. Police Officers!Ghoap stopping your friend for speeding and seeing Reader in the backseat, drunk and to yourself, waving at them excitedly when they look in your direction. It gets Johnny all excited and before Ghost can even say anything he’s telling your friend and you to get out of the car, giving you both field sobriety tests. You fail and your friend passes but they both lie and say that they failed and that they have to take you both into custody. Taking you to the station and frisking you, Soap reassuring you when you ask if it’s normal to need two officers for a search. Ghost holding you still when Soap starts to remove your clothes, ignoring your whimpers and whines when he gropes at the flesh of your ass, resisting the urge to bite into it. And then Ghost says they have to do a cavity search on you to be certain you don’t have anything dangerous to hide :((( 🧡🧡🧡 - 🕸

ooh you should maybe check out No One Has To Know by Carin Hart! tbh i wasn't a huuuge fan, but it's got a stalker police officer who kidnaps the fmc and uses his position as an officer to threaten her

anyways! i very rarely write it bc i've actually never been drunk (looong history of addiction in my family) and i feel like if i tried i'd sound like kid guessing at what drunkenness is lmao but! i fucking loooove noncon (dubcon?) with a drunk victim who wouldn't consent if they weren't drunk, and the abuser takes complete advantage of that. hot as fucking hell. and the talking them down the next morning, gaslighting them into thinking they did consent? ohhh i eat it up

anyways 2x. im obsessed with what you've sent me, may i offer some variations?

rookie cop soap & experienced (and jaded) cop ghost who's stuck as his partner. they take both you and your friend in and soap takes you into a private room for your search but ghost can just tell that soap is gonna get himself in trouble, so he finishes his search real quick and goes into the private room to find johnny humping your back while you grind on his leg :( soap freezes in fear because he is actively assaulting you, but ghost just sighs and closes the door, grunts "hurry up, then. need to get her in a holding cell. can spend some more time with her then." and johnny moans, making you moan, and the two of you are just a soaked and desperate mess of limbs

ghost and johnny pulling you over alone on the side of the road in the middle of the night. they handcuff you and you're too scared to fight back, and they insist on doing a search, and then a cavity search before they take you in their car :( you're squirmy and scared and trying so hard to be good, and ghost and soap play good cop/bad cop with you. except, surprising you, ghost is the good cop and soap is the bad cop. mostly because ghost is near silent and soap is rough, kinda mean, while ghost is just ordering you around. anyway the interaction ends with ghost fucking you with his gun :/ you're trying so hard to be good but it's scary and soap keeps threatening to gag you if you get any louder :(

ghost and soap sneaking into the holding cell, making you stay silent in less you want your friend to wake up and see you taking their cocks so well :/ age-old trope but reader getting interrogated by ghost and soap and totally abused and violated as an interrogation method :/ ghost getting mean mean and telling you he'll either fuck you with his baton or beat you with it :/ soap making you shine his badge with your tongue while he's railing you :/

[piggledy-higgledy]

As anyone who’s been looking at my page semi-frequently will have noticed, I am a big Richard Armitage fan. Mostly in love with his portrayal of Gisborne in BBC’s Robin Hood, but I also enjoy most of his other work and consider him a very talented actor (and a very sweet person from what we can tell.)

There has been a lot of furore lately about his latest project, “Obsession” (a series unfortunately promoted as an erotic thriller by Netflix), which is a remake of 1992 film “Damage” (with Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche) and based on the book by Josephine Hart. He portrays William Farrow, a married, middle aged, successful surgeon, who has an affair with his son’s fiancé, Anna (Charlie Murphy) -an affair so obsessive that it costs him everything: his career, his family, his son’s life, even his own self (more on that later.) The series features a lot of sex scenes, very light BDSM elements, and a LOT of nudity from RA on a level most fans never thought we’d see (RA being famously private and modest.) The fandom has been divided over this, with some looking forward to it and some being sure it’s not for them at all. From what I can tell (and I might be wrong) most people were put off by either the copious amounts of sex (and the trailer leaned very heavily on that) or the unsavoury morals of the main characters. Which is fair, if it’s not your cup of tea, don’t watch it.

I *did* watch it, and because opinions have been so strong, I wanted to share my thoughts. No disrespect if you prefer to pass. I hope it might be helpful for anyone on the fence and still making up their mind whether to watch or not. Happy to chat more about it if anyone likes! There WILL be spoilers.

Before watching it

I have personally felt very intrigued about this series and I was excited about watching it. Not so much because of the nudity or explicit scenes -or, rather, because of them, but not in the way you might think. Richard Armitage has played very, very few roles where he was primarily the romantic lead, and none later in his career. He tends to be cast in active roles, a lot of dark, violent characters, tense action. When there is romance it’s not the main aspect being explored. And he has NEVER (with the notable exception of Between the Sheets, which was so early in his career I doubt he necessarily had much choice to turn down work) done anything close to this level of sexual screen time. Why now? What made this different? I really wanted to know.

There was another reason I really wanted to watch Obsession. What Richard Armitage does best, in my opinion, is give characters depth (even characters that were clearly not written that way *cough* *Guy* *cough*). He is an incredibly detailed actor and uses his face and eyes to a stunning degree to convey things that go far beyond the dialogue. He has spoken about how he creates complete backstories for all his characters. This project is literally made for his type of acting. There is hardly any action, and leagues of unspoken material. RA called it “one of the most fulfilling pieces of work he’s ever done”. I needed to see why.

After watching it

I binged all 4 episodes in one night. And then again the next morning. And again today. I finished the first episode and thought “Yes, I understand why he wanted to do this.” (He also said in an interview that there was a moment in one scene that he’d never achieved before on film. Having watched this, I believe him.) Is this the kind of series I’d normally gravitate to? No. But I’m glad I watched it. Every single actor was incredible. The filming was beautiful. I just… don’t know where to start.

The story:

In my opinion “Obsession” is not about infidelity or sexual exploration -it’s about William and Anna’s experience with obsession and addiction. Anna isn’t just having an affair. She is addicted to being in control and to using sex as a means of asserting that control. (We learn that she had a brother who sexually abused her for years and committed suicide when she finally put a stop to it. And throughout the series, she reacts to strong emotions by initiating sex. Charlie Murphy described the character as a “dominant submissive” and that’s spot on, not just in the way that she sets the rules and boundaries of their sexual relationship, but in the way that, having been abused, asserts her control on the situation she had to submit to as a young girl by controlling when and how she submitted). William is not just having an affair. He is obsessed and addicted to Anna to the point that it completely deconstructs him as a person. He is the counterpoint to Anna’s character, in that he has no control. He doesn’t initiate, he doesn’t resist, he can’t or won’t control his reactions or his impulses and he completely loses control of his life as a result of his actions. In the final episode Jay, the son, discovers the affair and in shock, falls off a railing to his death. There is a scene where William faces his wife after everything is revealed and watching Richard Armitage convey all those emotions without saying a word is some of the best acting I’ve seen in my life. I don’t know what part of himself RA drew from to act the guilt and grief and absolute devastation in that scene but it was… amazing and heartbreaking. Even then, the obsession wins. When Jay dies, we see Anna walking away while William cradles the body of his son, paying her very little attention. I completely believe that he is broken in the scenes that follow. But after a few days the addiction takes over and he still seeks out Anna, convinced they can now be together (“there’s no version of this with just you,” she’d told him earlier on, but he clearly thinks otherwise). And we get the following:

W: … I let uncertainty in. (NB: What is uncertainty but lack of control?)

A: And look what happened. I don’t think… we can ever separate who we are from what we’ve done.

W: But… we can’t let it all be for nothing either (NB: William’s voice breaks here. He’s lost everything he ever cared about, she’s the only thing left. Does this phrase mean he thinks there was depth in their affair? Or does it mean that he is looking for meaning and depth so that he can cope with the fact that he sacrificed everything for an obsession and an addiction?)

A: Jay died because of us.

W: Still I wouldn’t change it (TNB: THIS! This phrase upset so many viewers! And of course it did, it was supposed to. The acting is, again, amazing. This isn’t said to Anna, this is introspection. William is looking inside himself, realises he wouldn’t change it, realises how much of himself he’s lost.)

A: You don’t regret it?

W: How can I?

A: We caused so much pain

W: But it’s done now.

A: I am so sorry for what happened. But I wish we’d never met. (She walks away, leaving William sobbing. Because there. is. nothing. left.)

The sex:

I hate that this was marketed as a sexy series because it created all sorts of hype and expectations that were misplaced imo. The story was never about the sex. Morgan Lloyd Malcolm said a couple of days ago on Twitter that it’s about “sitting in the discomfort of human behaviours” and that is spot on. Like I said above, this is a story of addiction. Anna is not addicted to the sex -she is addicted to using sex for control. That’s why Anna and William never kiss (she is the one controlling their physical interactions. William leans in to kiss her in many scenes, she never lets him.) That’s why the music is so jarring in all the sex scenes. That’s why there’s no foreplay, that’s why William never lasts long. That’s why they only ever have sex on the floor or in public, never in a safe, comfortable place like a bed. They are not comfortable. This is not a comfortable situation. We, as viewers, are supposed to be uncomfortable. The infamous hotel pillow scene was meant to demonstrate the turning point in William’s addiction, the complete loss of control, I think. It was never supposed to be funny or sexy -it was meant to disturb us because this intelligent, cultured, previously collected man becomes completely animalistic. Which is why he sobs afterwards -I think this is the point when William realises that (as Ingrid puts it later) “he is lost to her”. William’s face after their first sexual encounter is the face of a man under the influence. When she gets up to leave he makes this movement with his fingers like he is trying to hold on to her, but only grabs air. It’s just a twitch -but it’s Richard Armitage and we know how detailed he is in his acting, and I am sure it was a gesture with meaning.

The intimate scenes in Obsession are sometimes sensual, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes genuinely hard to watch but never gratuitous.

Why a fan of Richard Armitage or anyone writing for his characters should watch it:

Again, you do you, but hear me out: This series is a veritable treasure trove of body language, voice/cadence, facial expressions that you can then apply to your favourite RA character. The longing. The conflict. The loss of control. The vulnerability. The eye contact. The fact that the lover’s name is Anna, which is also my name. Also, I’m being completely serious when I say that this is some of the best acting I’ve seen him do *ever*. If you can only bring yourself to watch parts of it, do that. There were some scenes that genuinely made me tear up. Look after yourself, respect your boundaries, but sample what you can because it’s a veritable banquet.

PS: I am focusing on Richard Armitage for this review because I came to Obsession from that fandom. But every single actor gives an amazing performance. I especially adored Charlie Murphy as Anna, Indira Varma being astounding as Ingrid and the criminally underrated Marion Bailey as Anna’s mother, Elizabeth, who packs SO MUCH into so few scenes.

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [36]

chapter thirty-six, act five: the ballad of me and my brain

masterlist

little Author's note /TW before this act begins. There's going to be alot of talk of drug use and addiction within the chapters coming, if you're not comfortable with these kinds of things please don't read.

January 14th 2017

Tommie yawns, one big loud yawn as she shuffles through her house to the front door.

Gabby grins when it’s opened and tugs her little suitcase in behind her. “Hey, babes.”

“Gabs? What are you doing here?”

Gabby sighs, “I miss my best mate, is that a crime?” She asks kicking her shoes off and lining them up neatly besides Tommie who quickly shakes her head and opens her arms for a hug, “Haven’t seen you since Christmas, I missed you.”

Tommie smiles, breathing in slowly as she accepts the hug from her friend. “Okay, I have so much planned for us, tonight is movie night, tomorrow I’m driving us to Cardiff and we’re having a shopping day, monday we’re going to go to the cinema, I haven’t decided on tuesday yet, struggling between a pamper day and a trip to a beach, but that might be too cold now I’m thinking about it.”

“Okay, let’s start with movie day-”

“Okay, but I’m picking. I cannot watch Fantastic Mr Fox again.”

“But it’s my favourite.”

“It’s the only film you watch besides Revenge of the Sith.”

“They’re good films.”

⋆｡ ��☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ 

The flashes are bright, too bright and she’d forgotten her sunglasses to protect herself from them.

The bag on her shoulder weighs her down more than everyone else, her laptop, books, writing books, hoodie and a pair of shoes she couldn’t fit into her suitcase make their weight known against her muscles.

Ross’ body blocks some of the light, but when he’s moved over by Jamie and towards the side her shield is gone.

The screams of teenage girls are too loud as they push against the old creaking barrier to try and get closer to Matty, he’s upfront, sunglasses and leather jacket on looking like a guy out of a Corey Hart song.

He revels in the attention whereas Tommie hates it, shying away as much as she can, hiding into the darkness of her hoodie as her hands fumble with the strap of her bag.

Then someone is breaking over the barrier, she can’t tell who gets over first, the fan or the rogue photographer.

They both shove each other, the poor teenage girl is on the floor, Tommie’s standing there above her, photographer’s camera in her face.

Without thinking she’s shoving the camera away, it clatters and smashes on the floor, hitting the girl who’s being helped up by other fans.

“Tommie! Tommie!”

Hands are gripping her from both sides of the barriers, the walkway hasn't been made big enough. Strangers are touching her and she holds her breath not to be sick right there.

“Tommie! Matty!”

Someone gripped her and pulled her into them, arms wrapped around and guiding her into the van, straight into the back.

George sits beside her, holding her hand in his lap as the rest pile in, Matty coming in last after signing a few screaming fans shirts.

Matty raises his brows as he peers over the drummer, but George shakes his head, wraps one arm around her, tugs her into his side and blocks her from the singer’s view.

“Tom.”

“Leave her be, Matty.”

“You alright?”

He ignores George and moves his arm to brush his knuckles across the top of her head, reaching around the back of George awkwardly to do it.

“Matty-”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

George elbows him, giving him a look that he once again ignores. 

“I’m fine, Matt.”

Her tone is sharp, and he leans back, taking his arm away and resting his hands in his lap. “Okay, I was just asking.”

“You’re always just asking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ross looks between them slowly, the tension has been building between them for weeks and no one knows why.

Adam gives one harsh look to Matty and he’s pausing, shrinking back in his seat and mumbles an apology. “I jus-” He cuts himself off before he can finish the word, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ 

February 21st 2017

“Just be honest with me, Jamie. Be brutal. It’s bad.”

Jamie sighs, “It can easily be fixed.” He assures, “I’m sure Matty will do something bad next week.”

She sighs and leans forward, head in her hands, Adam moving to rub up and down her back, “God, this is bad.”

“It’s fine, it’ll blow over.”

“Yeah, but I-”

“So what? Have you seen the way the Gallaghers act? Or any other mildly popular artists? People have done worse.”

She looks at the newspaper on the table. An article about her blowing off the fans at the airport, talks of assault as she’d accidentally shoved someone in a hurry to the awaiting car.

The truth was the flight had been bad, she’d been seated beside Matty, the pair still haven’t talked since he showed up at her house, and with the show after show after show routine she’d already been on edge.

It’s all falling apart. Something she used to be so good at, touring endlessly with no rest, is no longer her strong suit.

And to top it off, she hasn’t seen Button in two months, the dog has been staying with her grandparents back in South Wales to give her a break from moving around.

Usually articles like these would mean nothing to Tommie, she’d brush it aside with a half-arsed shrug.

But it's the fact they’re dragging Caleb and his band down with her, knowing the 1975 are far too popular around the world to be touched by a little article they’ve targeted Dirty Delights.

She knows they probably won’t see this. It’s a European news outlet, there’s no chance, right?

Nope.

Caleb had called her the moment it came out.

That’s why she’s panicking.

She doesn’t want to ruin Caleb’s career before it’s even begun.

George sighs, finally sitting down, “It’ll be forgotten next week. They’ll start talking about Taylor Swift again or a shitty Kardashian boob job or something, don’t worry.”

She sighs, “What if this ruins Caleb’s career?”

“What career?” Comes a snort from across the room.

Ross smiles, but it's quickly dropped when he sees the glare that Tommie is sending to Matty across the room.

“I can’t be the reason his band fails before they’ve even had the chance to start.”

“They’ve had plenty of chances, they’re the ones who's fucking up. I wouldn’t lose sleep over it.”

“Matty-” Adam tries but Tommie’s standing now.

“You’re forgetting you guys were in a band for ten years before you got the chance.”

“Yeah, but we had fans. People who’d turn up to our gigs-”

“Oh, you mean your groupies who’d give you money to suck you di-”

“Alright.” It’s Gabby who’s breaking them up, brows raised as she looks between them weirdly, she sighs as she moves to Matty pushing him back down, “Shut up.” She tells him as she moves to sit on the other side of Tommie, bringing her back down to rub her arms.

“Give it a few days, ignore it, don’t comment on it. You get things like this all the time.” 

She shrugs, picking at her jeans as she nods, “I know.”

“Never usually bothers you like this.”

“I know.”

Matty’s jaw wiggles as he watches his girlfriend comfort Tommie quietly, arms around her with Tommie resting her head on her shoulder.

The door opens then, Caleb steps in, eyes falling to his girlfriend who sits up quickly. He smiles walking over to greet her and she stands as he hugs her.

He mutters a ‘don't worry about it all, we’ll talk later’ and she nods quickly.

Then Jamie's standing too, “Come on, five minutes and you’re all on.”

On her way out he grabs her hand, “I’ll sort it.”

“Thank you.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

“I’m sorry.”

Caleb shrugs as they enter their hotel room in London, he sheds his jacket hanging it on the chair and starts unlacing his shoes.

“It was all too much, everything, I-”

“Babe.”

He turns, holding his hands out for her and she slowly accepts it, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, I know how you get.”

“How I get?”

He nods, wincing at his words of choice, “You know what I mean.”

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Well, you’re… different, Tommie.”

“Different?”

He sighs, bowing his head, “I’m not winning this no matter what I say so whatever it is you’re building up to just get it out with.”

“I just want to know what you mean.” She says, knowing full well she does in fact know what he means, and she also is in fact building up to say something. 

She sighs looking down, “I’ve always been called different, Caleb, but what does that mean?”

He sighs slowly, “You’re just… not like everyone else.” She raises a brow and he sighs, “It’s not a bad thing.”

She nods, then steps back shedding her blouse and jeans to put on her pyjamas.

“Tommie.” He says, watching her carefully, “You’re just a little more… I don’t know, sensitive I guess.”

“Sensitive?”

“Yeah. But also weirdly emotionless at the same time.” He says looking up at thought.

“I’m not different.” She says, as she glances up over his head at the mirror hanging on the wall to stare at herself. Picking apart everything, her straightened hair, the makeup still on her face, the gold necklace he got her for her birthday, the bags under her eyes, the little scar on her eyebrow from when she hit her head as a kid. It’s not her. It’s Caleb.

Straightened hair because he likes it like that, makeup left over despite how hard she’s scrubbed her face because she put so much on to hide the bags given to her by sleepless nights made no better by his comforting hands, a golden necklace replacing her favourite silver one because he caused an argument when she didn't wear it. The scar on her eyebrow he points out way too much, that he avoids touching when his fingers trace her features. 

“I’m just me.”

Caleb watches her as she climbs into bed and hangs his head, “Tommie…”

“Goodnight, Caleb. Big day tomorrow.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[jessread-s]

Thanks to the publisher for providing me with an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review

✩⚔️🦋Review:

This book took the world by storm and rightfully so!

“Quicksilver” follows Saeris Fane, a metalworker and thief, after she inadvertently reopens a gateway between realms with the. Strange powers she possesses and is transported to a land of ice and snow. The Fae have always been the stuff of myth, of legend, of nightmares…but it turns out they’re real, and Saeris mistakenly binds herself to Kingfisher, a handsome Fae warrior. He has nefarious agendas of his own, but he’s the only way Saris is going to make it home alive. 

If you’re looking for an addicting enemies-to-lovers romance set against the backdrop of a centuries-long conflict in a dangerous fae realm, this one has your name on it! The very first chapter put me in a chokehold and did not let up until I found myself at the very end! 

Hart’s immersive world is dangerously captivating. She does a wonderful job distinguishing the differences between each of the Fae kingdoms and the regions they are located in. She also takes her time in revealing bits and pieces about the magic they possess and the gods that rule over them as both become more relevant to the plot. While the lore did bog me down at times, it is necessary in paving the way for the books to come. 

The friction that builds between Saeris and Kingfisher is insane!! I was living for their dynamic! As crazy as it sounds, every fight they picked kept me coming back for more. Watching their animosity slowly give way to an intense, all-consuming love was way beyond satisfying. 

I really enjoyed Saeris’ character. In a world of temperamental Fae, she doesn’t let her humanness damper her tenacious, strong-willed personality. She isn’t a skilled warrior by any means, but never shies away from a fight when the lives of those she cares about are in peril. It was fun to read from the perspective of a novice in combat and magic for a change.  

Fair warning, the end of this book is absolutely criminal! I’m excited to see how things play out in the next one!

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

[harleysalicent]

thinking about this thing brit marling just said in a rolling stone interview and this is another reason darby hart hits me so hard

I’m just a little bit older than darby and had somewhat of an “analog” childhood but from a fairly young age me playing within the endless limits of my imagination was soon replaced with tangible escapism behind these screens and that is so fucking addictive for a neurodivergent child in an unsafe household who wants nothing more than to be somewhere else, be something, someone else.

I know technological determinism is maybe becoming a tired and repeated narrative in fiction but I think we also need to listen and talk about what it’s done to us and our brains. it has helped us, yes, I’m able to write this thought and send it out to anyone around the world who might see it and that’s incredible. but how many ways has it harmed us. the fact the billionaires who invent or invest in this technology go on technology free retreats (and can afford to switch off in a world they have created to keep us plugged in) should tell you something.

[babylon-crashing]

Q: is sadness necessary for writing good poetry?

I can speak only for myself but it’s pain that’s the force that through the green fuse drives my flower, as they say. Sorrow is just a term we use in trying to express how we feel about it.

Pain is the true unnatural state. It’s alien and confusing and unavoidable.

Why would any of us, in a million years, choose to become an addict if pain were something slight and unessential? When people complain that poets “feel too much” or are “too sensitive” that’s their way of saying, “shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” These are not people interested in the story of your survival, which is what your poetry is. Your poetry stands between you and utter destruction, as if to say, I have no other way of speaking my truth but these words, but at least I have these words.

It’s as James Baldwin said in Sonny's Blues: “For, while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn't any other tale to tell, it's the only light we've got in all this darkness.”

And then one day I woke up and found the words didn’t come to me much anymore. That’s also a form of desperation, my bona fides weren’t all that bona and I’m just one in a long line of ancestors.

When he was of a “certain age,” Ernest Hemingway first tried electro-shock treatment, thinking that he could jolt his creativity back. When that didn’t work he put the end of a shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Virginia Woolf loaded down her pockets with stones and sank to the bottom of the pond. Paul Celan and Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath and Hart Crane and Yukio Mishima and the list goes on and on. Well, dang, “out out brief candle,” indeed.

I will never fault another human that self-destructive impulse once their art and craft and skill, all that lovely borrowed time, leaves them and the darkness moves in.

[alice-drysdale]

Guidance (part 2)

Alice’s POV:

Every morning feels the same, feeling the cold air in my room, smelling my dirty sheets, looking in my cracked mirror for 10 minutes asking myself if I will ever appreciate myself.

The answer is no. Probably not. But at this point I don’t even care. I feel empty every morning when I wake up, every minute I get screamed at by my parents and every second when is see my ugly reflection.

The constant screaming match my parents have are tiring. It’s always the same.

Maybe that’s why I’m excited now because I got a little change in my live. And that is saying hello to Mr Hiddleston and talking for 20 minutes before my break is over and I have to go back to my next class.

We have these small talks now for five weeks. And they were/are the best five weeks of the 11 years of school I ever had.

He is such a nice and fun person to be around. We talk a lot about books, poetry and theater. Sometimes he lends me books he thinks are interesting. And I read every single one of them and gave him my critics on it.

It felt like someone actually took my opinion seriously and by hart. And that’s why I got slowly emotionally attached to him.

Something that changed too was that I now sit next to him and not at the other side of the table anymore. It’s nice being so close to him. He radiates warmth and comfort with his calm presence. It’s something I never experienced, but it’s so nice.

Walking to school and back was always very tedious. I had to walk for an hour and ten minutes two times every day. But there is nothing I can do. My parents won’t give me money for driving with the bus or making my drivers license.

But it’s okay because on the way to school I already think about what me and Mr Hiddleston could talk about. Yesterday he told me he got a surprise for me and I ask myself what it is.

I try to listen to Mrs Gosling but it’s hard. I don’t understand math, I never did. And the bell would ring in a minute for Lunch so I only think about storming out of this classroom.

When the bell finally rings I but my stuff in my bag and run to the library. And Mr Hiddleston is already sitting at the table typing something on his phone.

„ well well well I think I have to confiscate that, no phones allowed Mr Hiddleston” he looked up surprised but then chuckled. „you are right I’m sorry Miss Bielefeld”

I set myself down next to him. I could smell his Parfum it was a citrusy and fresh smell with a bit of musk.  it’s addictive „you told me you have a surprise for me yesterday?” I asked excited.

„Did I?” He looked at me confused and my smile dropped slowly. But then he smirked at me „just kidding of course I do, wait” he looked around in his bag looking for something and pulled what looked like two pieces of paper out.

„I talked to the principal and told him what wonderful after- school- work you did for me for extra credit. And I told him that for this extra credit I planned on having a little educational trip for about 5 hours tomorrow. You will be excused for tomorrow and you will not have to attend your normal classes.“

He gave me one of the small pieces of paper… and it was a ticket for a theater show tomorrow. I was just holding it in my hands starring at it in disbelief. „I don’t think that the principal has to know that your extra credit was just reading a few books“ he chuckles

I teared up still holding the ticket in my hands starring at it. Mr Hiddleston Noticed that I wasn’t saying anything and he said slowly „I just thought it’s something you would maybe enjoy because you told me you never saw a show before. You don’t have to go of course- ”

But before he could finish his sentence I turned around and hugged him tightly crying into his shoulder. „T-Thank you“ I said still crying. he was Hesitating but then wrapped his arms around me too and stood up from the chair she he could hug me properly.

He probably doesn’t know what he really did to me with this. This was the first time someone ever gifted me something… and he gave me something i told him and wished for a few weeks ago.

When I was coming to my senses again I pulled away still looking at him with My watery eyes „how much did it cost?” I asked

He looked into my eyes saying seriously „it’s nothing you should ever worry about. I go to the theater often and buying a ticket more won’t make me poor“ he said softly.

“Here this is my email Adress, just write me one later where you want to get picked up. I will be there at around 8 am” he wrote it Down and gave it to me.

„Okay will do, thank you” I nodded. His thumb wiped away the last tear that rolled down my cheek. And this beautiful moment was destroyed by the bell

„Now I want you to stop crying, go to your next class and pay good attention. Can you do that for me Alice?” I nodded again and he smiled at me and I walked out of the room with a lot of different emotions…

Emotions I’ve never felt before. But I was sure of something

they were emotions I shouldn’t have for my teacher

When I got home I send Mr Hiddleston the Adresse from the Bus stop near my house. He send me an email back hoping that I will like the show tomorrow and that I should go to bed now to get a good sleep.

And I did exactly that. But I was to excited and I couldn’t sleep for the next 3 hours. But at some point my body was to tiered and i fell asleep.

_______________________________________________

Uff part 2 and I feel like I want to switch guidance into a dark story. If you got any suggestions or want to get tagged just write me. But until then I see you next Tim! :D

[middleearthpixie]

Human Touch ~ Chapter One

A/N: This is the follow up to Playing With Fire, but can be read as a standalone. I thought Frerin deserved a nice, steamy romp just like his older brother got with Leda, so this is his story. I know I’ve got like three other fics to update, but I thought maybe I’d throw this out there and see what everyone thought of it… 

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, new to the history department at the high school, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x OFC Elena Madison

Characters: Frerin, Elena, Alyssa, Nurse Angela Hart, Nurse Leigh Addams

Warnings: None (yet)

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.1k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

I know I ain’t nobody’s bargain, but hell, a little touch-up and a little paint ~ Bruce Springsteen

December 15

Monday night, 2:50AM

“Dr. Durin?”

Frerin rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but we just got a call from the ER. They need you down there.”

“What time is it, Leigh?”

“Ten to three.”

He bit back a groan as he sat up. He was getting too old for being yanked out of bed in the middle of the night. “Okay. I’m coming. What is it?”

“A six year old with exposure.”

“Exposure?”

“That’s what they said.”

He slid down from the bed where he was tying to catch some sleep in the on call room, and grabbed his white coat from the foot of it. “What the hell was a six year old doing out in this?” He gestured to the sleet pounding against the window. 

“I don’t know,” Nurse Leigh Addams shook her head as he joined her in the hallway. The lights were softer than normal, since it was the middle of the night, but he was still mole-eyed. 

“Damn it, do you know where I left my steth?”

“Take mine, but give it back.” She reached up to drape it around his neck, then gave him a gentle push. “Go.”

“I’m going.” He rubbed his eyes as he turned to make his way to the elevators. The pediatric unit was on the eighth floor, and fortunately, the elevator was quick. He was alone in the car, and all he could think about was getting a cup of coffee. Caffeine was a must when he worked the night shift. His days of being able to power through without it were firmly behind him.

The doors slid open and where the pediatric unit was fairly quiet at almost three in the morning, the ER was a bit busier and must’ve been for some time, judging by the sheer number of patients he saw. The rooms and curtain areas must’ve been at capacity, since there were nearly half a dozen patients on gurneys in the hallway as well. He moved by them, dodged paramedics clattering by with their stretchers, and at the main desk, said, “You called, Angela?”

Angela Hart smiled. “Dr. Durin, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you on nights.”

“Yeah, well, McArthur is out with the flu, so someone has to cover. Where is the frozen six year old?”

“Paramedics are rolling up now.”

He rubbed his eyes again. “Is there coffee in the lounge?”

“There should be, but it might be from the day shift.”

“It’s caffeine. I don’t care if I have to chew it. Let me know when the kid’s back.” 

The lounge was directly across from the main desk, and thank Christ the coffee seemed fresh. He poured a cup, raided the fridge for half and half, only to find nothing but flavored creamers. He wrinkled his nose, but grabbed the French vanilla and poured it into the cup. 

“Frerin,” Angela poked her head into the lounge, “your boy is in Trauma One.”

“Okay.” He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, winced as it scalded its way down his throat, and then he set the cup on the table. “I’m coming.”

Trauma One was down the short hallway and to his right, one of three in the ER, as they were the county trauma center when Robert Wood Johnson University Hospital was too far for transport. He hadn’t spent much time in the ER lately, but had spent enough that he knew the ER docs and nurses, they knew him, and they all worked well together. 

“Okay,” he said as he came into the room, “give me the bullet…”

“Mom?”

Elena Madison bit back a groan at her daughter’s whisper. “What is it, Alyssa?”

“I don't feel well.”

Elena lifted her head to squint at the clock. Three-thirty in the morning. She reached over to switch on the lamp. “What’s wrong?”

“My throat really hurts and I can’t get warm and everything hurts.”

“Do you want to sleep here, with me?”

“Can I?”

“Come on.”

Alyssa climbed up into the bed and snuggled up against her. Heat wafted from her daughter’s body, hot enough that Elena laid a hand on her forehead. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

“A while. I felt funny when I was doing my homework, but thought I was just tired. But now… I really feel awful.”

“Let me see if I can find the thermometer. It might not be unpacked yet.”

Alyssa squinted at the light and nodded. “Okay.”

Elena frowned. Alyssa looked pale. Almost chalk-white, actually. The flu was going around at Sidleburg High, where she was a freshman. Oh, she hoped it wasn't that. They’d only been in town a few days, she hadn’t had time to find any kind of doctors yet and didn't even know where the nearest medimerge was.

Still, she got up and padded into the bathroom, where she searched for the digital thermometer. Luck was on her side. It was tucked into her makeup bag. 

She brought it back to her bedroom. “Under your tongue, peanut.”

Alyssa nodded as she opened her mouth and let Elena slip the thermometer under her tongue.  Then, she sat very quietly, just resting her head against Elena’s shoulder until the thermometer beeped.

Alyssa pulled it out and frowned. “One-oh-two, Mom.”

“Okay, tell you what, why don’t you just stay here and try to get some sleep and if it gets any higher, we’ll run to the ER?”

Alyssa winced. “Everything just hurts… I don't even want to lay down.”

Elena sighed softly. “Do you want to go see a doctor?”

“Will it help?”

“I don't know. It’s probably just the flu, but it might not be, either.” Elena gently pressed her hand to Alyssa’s forehead only to have her flinch and jerk back with a muted cry. “Okay. We’ll go over to the ER. Let me throw some clothes on, okay?”

Alyssa nodded and gingerly lay down to curl into the fetal position. “Okay.”

Elena grabbed a hoodie to tug on over her tee shirt, The leggings she had on would suffice, so she tugged on thick socks and her work boots, ran a brush through her hair and tugged it up into a hasty bun. “Ready, honey?”

Alyssa nodded slowly, sitting up with a wince. “My hair hurts.”

“Yeah, fevers do that. Come on.” Elena eased an arm about Alyssa’s waist and gently helped her to her feet. “Let me just grab my keys and we can go.”

Outside, Alyssa sucked in a sharp breath. “The snow hurts…”

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll have the car warmed up in a jiffy, I promise.” She helped Alyssa around to the passenger side of her Accord and gingerly fastened the seat belt. “Just close your eyes and try to sleep a little if you can. We’ll be there in a few minutes, if I don't get lost.”

“Try not to get lost, Mom.”

“I’ll do my best, Sarge.”

That earned her a weak smile and she pressed a light kiss into Alyssa’s hot forehead. Then, she closed the car door, skirted the car’s nose, and sank into the driver’s seat. 

The advantage to trying to find Sidleberg Memorial Hospital in the dead of night was there wasn’t a lot of traffic. The downside? She still didn't know exactly where it was and even with the GPS, it took her longer than she would have liked to find it. But finally, she swung the car into the driveway, looped around to pull up in front of the big revolving door leading to the ER.

“We’re here, honey. Let’s get you inside and I’ll move the car, okay?”

Alyssa nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Good. Come on, baby, small steps. We’re almost there.”

“I’m so cold…”

Elena came around to grab her about the waist. It might have only been her imagination, but it seemed more heat radiated from her daughter than before and she shivered as well now. “Easy, honey. We’re almost there.”

“I just want to lay down, Mom.”

“I know. Soon.” She nudged the door with her hip to close it, then slowly walked Alyssa into the brightly lit waiting room and guided her over to a chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Alyssa nodded, curling into a ball once more. “Okay, Mom.”

Elena crossed to the reception desk, where the nurse sat behind a plexiglass wall. “How can I help you?”

“I think my daughter has the flu, but her temperature has really shot up in the last half hour. It was one-oh-two when we left and I think it’s gone up.”

“Her name?”

“Alyssa Madison.”

“Date of birth?”

Elena gave her the information, dug out her insurance card, and waited as the nurse typed all of the info into the computer system. The nurse offered up a reassuring smile. “She’ll be brought back as soon as possible, Mrs. Madison.”

“Thank you.”

She went back to where Alyssa sat and not five minutes later, another nurse, in cranberry colored scrubs, came over to them with a wheelchair and a hospital bracelet. “Alyssa?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m Carol, how are you feeling?”

“Like crap.” Alyssa looked over at Elena. “Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s okay.” Elena ruffled her hair. “You get a pass because you look like you feel like crap.”

Carol smiled. “I know, there’s a lot of flu going around.” She looked up at Elena. “Who is your pediatrician?”

“We don't have one yet. We’re new to the area.”

“Well, you’re in luck. We’ve got the head of the department here tonight and he’s really good. So,” she fastened the bracelet about Alyssa’s right wrist, “why don't we get you back into a bed and get you a nice heated blanket?”

“I’ve got to go move my car,” Elena said, gesturing to the black Accord still in front of the door. 

“That’s not a problem. Gloria will buzz you back and tell you where to find us. Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll keep an eye on her. Can you move over into the chair for me, Alyssa?”

“Sure.” 

As Alyssa moved, Elena went out to park her car in the parking deck. There was spot just beyond where the ambulances charged, and she quickly locked the doors and hurried back inside, where Gloria told her she’d find Alyssa in Room Six, and told her where she’d find Room Six.

Alyssa was dozing, looking almost as pale as the hospital linens and Carol was still there. “Her temp is one-oh-two-point-three. You made the right decision in bringing her in, Mom. Is she allergic to any anything?”

“Cashews,” Elena said with a slight smile as she cast a worried look over at her daughter. “They make her lips and tongue tingle and swell.”

“Is she on any medications?”

“No. She’s always been a healthy kid. Aside from finding out about the cashews, anyway.”

“And medical conditions? Heart or kidney problems?”

“No. Again, she’s a healthy kid.”

“Okay. We’re a little busy, but it shouldn’t take Dr. Durin long. If you want to watch television, the remote is on the tray.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

After Carol left, Elena sank into the single chair alongside Alyssa’s bed with a soft sigh, reaching up to rub one eye. It was nearly three-thirty. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday. She hated calling out sick when she’d only been there a few weeks, but would have had no choice if it was a weekday. She had no idea how long they would be there, and had no idea if Alyssa was sick with the flu or something worse, and she had no support system aside from herself. The last thing she wanted to do was call Alyssa’s father and even if she wanted to, there was no point. He and his girlfriend were in Aruba for the holidays.

She sighed softly, tucking her legs up under her and propped her head on her fist as CNN played softly on the television. 

She didn't know she’d dozed off until she heard a soft, “Mrs. Madison?” and felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

She jumped as if someone had shouted at her. “I’m up… I—I mean, I’m Mrs. Madison… yes…”

“Sorry. I tried to not to startle you.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay. I didn’t even know I fell asleep.” She rubbed her eyes slowly and squinted up to find herself looking at a rather tired-looking man in white lab coat with a hot pink stethoscope around his neck who moved to the box of latex exam gloves and tugged two free. 

“I’m Dr. Durin. This is your daughter,” he glanced down at the chart in his hand, “Alyssa?”

“Yes. I think she might have the flu, but I’m not sure. She’s had a cold for the last two days, but tonight started running a fever and it shot up pretty quickly.”

“Okay. You’re probably right, but I’ll check her just the same.” He set the chart down on the counter and pulled on the gloves. “You’re welcome to stay in the room, or if you want to step out, I’ll have a nurse come in, instead.”

“I’ll ask Alyssa.”

“Fair enough.” He smiled. “Don’t look so worried, Mom. She’s in good hands.”

“I didn't realize it was my worry was showing.”

“I can see it.” He moved closer to the bed and gave Alyssa a gentle shake. “Alyssa? Can you open your eyes for me?”

“What… who… who are?”

“I’m Dr. Durin. Mom said you’re sick? You think you might have the flu?”

“Maybe. I thought it was just a cold, but now… I’m freezing and the nurse said my fever got higher.”

“One-oh-two-point-three. Yeah, I’d say you’re definitely sick.” He touched the top of her head. “Does that hurt?”

“Everything hurts.”

“That’s the fever. We’ll give you some Tylenol to help, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now,” he lifted the stethoscope from around his neck to fit the earpieces in place, “do you want Mom to stay or would you rather Carol stay while I examine you?”

“Mom can stay.” Alyssa managed a slight smile. “I like your stethoscope. Pink is my favorite color.”

“Oh, yeah? This isn’t mine. Mine went missing, so I borrowed it from one of the nurses. I think she has a purple one, too.”

“I didn't know they came in different colors.”

“They do, indeed. You name the color, you can find one in it.” He warmed the diaphragm part of the stethoscope between his palms, then slid it beneath her hospital gown, bringing his free hand up to hold a finger to his lips for minute. Then, he moved it, saying, “Take a deep breath for me?”

She did. He moved it again. “Another, please.”

She did and he slid the stethoscope free. “Can you sit forward for me, Alyssa?”

She nodded and did, then began coughing. He waited until she finished. “Do you need a drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay, Dr. Durin.”

“Okay.” He pressed the stethoscope to her back. “Again, a deep breath for me.”  

She did and then he tugged the ear pieces from his ears and draped the stethoscope around his neck once more. “Okay. You can lie back,” before picking up her chart to make a notation. “Your lungs sound clear and that’s a good thing.”

She sighed softly as she sank into the pillow. “What color is yours?”

“My steth? I’m afraid it’s boring gray.” 

“You should get a pink one.”

Elena pressed her lips together to hold back her smile as Dr. Durin said, “You think so? It wouldn’t make me look dorky?”

Alyssa shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“I’ll think about it.” He set her chart on the tray table and brought his hands to her neck, feeling around and under her jaw. “Glands are a little swollen. Do you have a sore throat?”

“It’s a little scratchy. It was worse yesterday.”

“How much worse?”

“It felt like razor blades.”

“How old are you, Alyssa?”

“I’ll be fourteen on the twenty-ninth.”

“Yeah? My daughter’s about your age. Are you a freshman?”

“Yeah.”

“So’s Maura. How do you like school?”

“I like everything but algebra.”

“I hated algebra myself. I like Chem and Bio. Anytime there was a chance I could blow something up, I was there.”

Alyssa chuckled. “I can’t wait to take Chem.”

“Mom, how is she doing in school?”

“Don’t let her fool you. She’s a straight-A student.”

“Really? Good for you, Alyssa. Keep those grades up and get into a good college.” He took a pencil flashlight from his pocket. “Do me a favor? Follow the light with just your eyes, okay? Don’t turn your head.”

“I won’t.”

Elena tucked her legs back under her as Dr. Durin then shined the light in first Alyssa’s left eye, then her right, and then straightened to tuck the flashlight back in his coat pocket. “Okay. I’d like to draw some blood, Mom, if I can, just to rule out a few things. I think it’s flu, and lord knows we’ve seen enough of it, but I want to be sure, because she’s a little sensitive to the light.” 

He turned back to Elena. “It’s probably the fever, but we’ve also seen a few cases of meningitis, so I want to rule that out entirely.”

“That’ll show in a blood test?”

He nodded. “It can, so that’s where we’ll start.”

“Do I have to get a shot?”

He turned back to Alyssa. “No, I don't think so, but I do want to take some blood. I promise you, Carol has the lightest touch and you’ll barely even feel it, okay?”

Alyssa’s pale face went paler still. “I don't like needles.”

“It’s not really a needle, Alyssa. It’s smaller, and I promise, I’ll only take a little bit.” He patted her through the blanket then looked back at Elena, peeling the gloves off to toss in the trashcan. “Mom, can I have a word with you?”

Elena’s stomach curdled as she nodded and rose to follow him out of the exam room. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But, I’ll need your permission to draw the blood and if necessary, to do a lumbar puncture.”

“A what?”

“A spinal tap. But,” he held out a hand as she opened her mouth to protest, “that’s only if the bloodwork comes up inconclusive. So, it’s a last resort, I promise. I do think’s it’s the flu, but like I said, we’ve had a few cases of meningitis and I don't want to risk it.”

She sighed softly, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. “I suppose. I hate the idea of a spinal tap, though.”

“It’s only if I can’t rule it out through the bloodwork. And I’d give her plenty of local anesthetic so she wouldn’t feel much.”

Elena sighed again. She supposed at one time, she’d have wished Alyssa’s father was there, helping her make the tough decisions. But then she remembered that the reason she was there alone because he didn't care about making any decisions with her or being a team. He was far more interested if where he could stick his cock next.

So, slowly, and not at all certain she was making the right decision, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Madison,” he told her with a hint of a smile. “I’ve done more of these than I can count and she won’t feel it. I promise.”

“Do I look that worried?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry… I just… I just thought it was a cold and then—”

“It’s been a rough flu season, and like I said, that’s probably what this is. I just want to be sure.”

“I know.” She peered around the doorway at Alyssa, who looked even younger now, her eyes closed, and she fought back a sigh. “But… that’s my kid.”

“I know.” He smiled. “I’ve got three of my own and I would react the same way if I was in your shoes. But, I promise you, Mrs. Madison, I won’t do it unless I have to.”

She looked back at him. “Okay. But, if you were me, would you agree to it?”

“I would. If it’s something like meningitis, you don't want to play around with it.”

“I know that. I do. I’m mostly a rational adult person, but—”

“It’s different when it’s your kid.”

Elena nodded, rubbing her forehead with one hand as she sighed softly for at least the third time. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so damn tired. “It’s different when it’s your kid. And I already hate being in the ER for something like this, but we don’t have a pediatrician yet and I don't even know if there’s a medimerge type place anywhere in town.”

“It’s okay that you brought her here.” He reached out to touch her shoulder. “It’s better to be safe than sorry. In all honesty, I do think it’s just the flu. I just prefer to err on the side of caution. So, I’ll have Carol come in and do the draw and when the results come in, I’ll come find you, okay? The cafeteria is closed, unfortunately, but there is a coffee machine just down the hallway if you could use a boost.”

She managed a slight laugh. “There isn’t enough caffeine in the world for a night like this.”

“I know. I’ve been there. Like I said, I’ve got three kids and they never get sick at good times. But, she’s in good hands. I promise.”

Elena nodded and rubbed her eyes this time. They stung with a fury and she really just wanted to curl up in a ball and let them close. But, since she couldn’t, she lowered her hand to look up at him  “I know.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I have the results of her bloodwork. You can use your cell in here if you want to call your husband.”

“There is no husband. It’s just me and Alyssa.”

“Okay, well… if there’s anything you need, just let Carol know, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He smiled and then started off down the hallway. She stood there for a moment, just watching, and then berated herself silently since it was not the time to be thinking about how beautiful his blue-gray eyes were. Not when she was waiting to find out if Alyssa had meningitis or not.

So with a sigh, she went back into the room and back to her chair, where Alyssa offered up a tired smile and said, “I like him, Mom. He’s nicer than Dr. Garrett was. Cuter, too.”

“Alyssa.”

“Oh, tell me he isn’t.”

“I thought you were sick?”

Alyssa tugged the blanket back up to her chin. “Mom, you could totally land a doctor. Dad would stew in envy if you did.”

“I’m not looking to land anyone, Alyssa. Especially not tonight.”

“I’m just saying. You could.”

“Alyssa?” Carol tapped softly on the door and came into the room. “Dr. Durin asked me to draw some blood.”

Alyssa went paler still as she nodded. “If you have to.”

“Mom, I just need you to sign the consent form and then we’ll get started.”

Elena looked over the form and sighed as Carol tugged on a pair of gloves and unwrapped the kit. Alyssa held out her left hand. “Mommy?”

Mommy. Elena couldn't remember the last time Alyssa called her that. Without hesitation, Elena caught Alyssa’s hand and whispered, “It’ll be fine, peanut,” as Carol tied the rubber tubing about Alyssa’s right arm. Alyssa sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening about Elena’s, and Elena kept whispering, “It’s okay, sweetie.”

“All done,” Carol said, untying the tourniquet and pressing a small piece of gauze into the crook of Alyssa’s arm. She unwrapped a Band-Aid and pressed that over the gauze. “Try to get some sleep, Alyssa. Hopefully the results won’t take long, but you never know. We’re crazy busy tonight and I have no idea how backed up the lab might be.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you need anything?”

“No, we’re fine.” Elena looked over at Alyssa, who was already asleep. “I just need her to get better.”

“She will. And Dr. Durin will be in as soon as the results are in as well.”

“Thank you again.”

Carol smiled and left with the vials, and a few minutes later, despite her uncomfortable position, Elena managed to doze off as well. 

[wrestlingfaves]

Royal Rumble Marathon: 1993

We’re rumbling into 1993.

Spoilers for past Rumbles.

The undercard:

The Beverly Brothers vs the Steiner Brothers. WCW lost some big names to the WWF during this time period: Ric Flair, the Steiner Brothers, Lex Luger. None would have long runs with the WWF. (Flair would a decade later for a longer run, Scott Steiner’s return would be as brief as his first run). Scott’s promos may have been more boring but in-ring he was much more enjoyable to watch in his pre “Papa Pump” era.

Rockers team and breakup/Marty’s return hype video. Sherri Martel, now managing Shawn Michaels, has mirror smashed over her head when Shawn throws her into the path of Marty. Sherri was such a beast in everything she did. There was no other woman like her during this era. (Luna Vachon come close).

Shawn Michaels vs Marty Janetty. Sherri is at ringside with no proclaimed loyalty to either man.  The Rockers broke up over a year ago but the feud was backburnered when Marty left the WWF due to addictions/personal issues. A year later and we’re finally getting the long-awaited match. Sherri’s interference costs Marty the match. Sherri’s loyalty remains unknown after the match. Mean Gene attempts to interview Sherri after the match but is interrupted by the brawling Shawn and Marty.

Bam Bam Bigelow vs Big Boss Man. Match was okay but would have been the “bathroom/merch break” match for me if I was at the arena.

Bret Hart vs Razor Ramon. Bret is the World Heavyweight champion. Stu and Helen Hart are at ringside. It’s noted (for the first time) that the winner of the Royal Rumble will be given a shot at the World championship. Great match (not surprising considering its Bret and Scott).

Bobby Heenan unveils “the Narcissist” Lex Luger, which is Luger posing before mirrors and monologuing over his perfection. Moving on…

“Ceasar and Cleopatra” issue a proclamation on Wrestlemania (it takes place in Vegas in ’93). The duo proclaim the winner of the Rumble will battle the world champion at Wrestlemania. Let the games begin.

The entrants, in order of appearance:

Ric Flair

Bob Backlund (before he shaved his head and “snapped”)

Papa Shango (aka Kama aka the Godfather)

Ted DiBase (accompanied by Jimmy Hart)

Nast Boy Knobbs

Virgil

Jerry “the King” Lawler

Max Moon (Konan)

Genichiro Tenryu (This is pre-internet so I wonder how many fans in the arena knew who Tenyru was. Tape trading was a thing but access wasn’t easy compared to getting on youtube and searching for videos of a wrestler).

Mister Perfect (Curt Hennig)

Skinner (Steve Keirn)

Koko B Ware (at the time ½ of High Energy with Owen Hart)

Samu (accompanied by Afa, ½ of the Headshrinkers)

Berzerker (John Nord)

Undertaker (accompanied by Paul Bearer)

Terry Taylor (non-Rooster)

El Gigante (accompanied by Harvey Wippleman, making his WWF debut, El Gigante eliminates himself)

Damien Demento

IRS (accompanied by Jimmy Hart

Tatanka

Nast Boy Sags

Typhoon (aka Tugboat aka Shockmaster)

Fatu (accompanied by Afa, ½  of the Headshrinkers, better known as Rikishi)

Earthquake

Carlos Colon (Monsoon refers to Colon as a “youngster”, umm, not so much. As with Tenyru, how many of the fans knew who he was?)

“El Matador” Tito Santana

“The Model” Rick Martel

Yokozuna (accompanied by Mr Fuji, my youngest sister was very young when we watched this Rumble for the first time, I will never forget her response to Yokozuna’s appearance: Why is he wearing a diaper?”)

Owen Hart (1/2 of High Energy)

Repo Man

Randy Savage (Savage continues to be confused as to the rules of a Rumble as he eliminated himself in a previous year and attempted to pin Yokozuna in this Rumble).

Yokozuna wins the Rumble. The ending credits show Yokozuna having a confrontation with Bret backstage.

I spotted Bill Alphonso as one of the outside referees. I’m so used to him as “Fonzie” in ECW that seeing him as a referee is weird.

There were 31 participants in this year’s Rumble. 30 if you don’t count El Gigante who was a “surprise” appearance. First time Rumblers: Bob Backlund, Papa Shango, Jerry Lawler, Max Moon, Samu, El Gigante, Damien Demento, Tatanka, Fatu, Carlos Colon, Yokozuna, Owen Hart

Tenyru and Colon would be the first surprise/random entrants in the Rumble.

Undertaker has the first “big man goes on a rampage and eliminates everybody” spot.

We also had the first “unite to throw the big man out” spot when the entrants attempted to eliminate Yokozuna.

Backlund had the longest performance.

Quick Eliminations: Papa Shango, Terry Taylor

Feuds in the Rumble: Flair/Perfect, Taker/Gigante, Santana/Martel

Road to Wrestlemania: Bret/Yokozuna and Gigante/Taker set up.

The Taker-Gigante face-off was ridiculous. Gigante was supposed come off as menacing but how can I take seriously a man in a poor Bigfoot cosplay. Taker’s gimmick is equally cartoony but he can bring the menacing aura. Gigante can’t.

Loved the face-off between Yokozuna and Earthquake: the pretend sumo wrester vs the wrestler with an actual sumo wrestler.

Rating: 8 out of 10.  The undercard was strong (minus the Bigelow-Boss Man match). The Rumble itself finally had “victory = title shot at Wrestlemania) established along with several key spots: surprise entrants, big man on a rampage, unite to throw the heavyweight out.

Wrestlers and others who have passed on: Gorilla Monsoon, Bobby Heenan, Howard Finkel, Joey Marella, Sherri Martel, Mean Gene Okerlund, Bam Bam Bigelow, Big Boss Man, Razor Ramon (Scott Hall), Stu Hart, Helen Hart, Virgil, Paul Bearer, Mr Fuji, Yokozuna, Owen Hart, Randy Savage.

Total deceased individuals: 17 (down 9 from the previous Rumble).