#feels like I've suddenly taken crazy pills

[amarriageoftrueminds]

the dizzying cognitive dissonance created when there's a sudden peggy-praising jumpscare in an otherwise completely rational fic?? 😵

[donnerpartyofone]

At one point when I was trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, I saw a psychologist who had a holistic angle that I liked the sound of. She ran this crazy battery of blood tests, and told me that I had the highest copper levels she'd ever seen. She explained to me that the inability to properly metabolize copper is connected to depression and anxiety, and suddenly things started to make sense to me.

I do not have it as bad as I might, which would mean Wilson's disease, which has been historically mistaken for schizophrenia. But it did seem to help explain my lifelong, severe depression and anxiety. And it also had some kind of satisfyingly poetic resonance vis-a-vis my problems with femininity. Copper has this Venusian association, and is also therefore associated with Taurus, which I happen to be, and I always felt burdened by this ultra-feminine assignment. I have certainly always felt like a woman but I never felt like I was permitted to enter the feminine world. My mother seemed to kind of hate me right out of the gate for some obscure personal reason (and/or because I'm crazy). I had a much harder time getting along with girls than with boys. My main interests were all considered traditionally masculine. As a teenager, I could never figure out any of the feminine beauty or seduction rituals, and I didn't have the kind of friends who would teach me them. I rarely have a period if I don't take a pill about it, I don't have problems with PMS, and I have absolutely no maternal feelings whatsoever, so I cannot achieve community with my fellow women through those items. As a straight female, I have always felt like a fucking alien.

^And because of all that, it made some kind of sense to me that my mind is being poisoned by an excess of copper--the Venus metal--which my body doesn't know what to do with. Like of course it is. Duh, even. Unfortunately this knowledge didn't really lead to a breakthrough. The doctor who figured it out prescribed this giant menu of nutritional supplements I was supposed to take, including a boner pill-sounding compound called Enhancer Adult-1, which is usually used by Alzheimer's patients to reduce heavy metal-related inflammation in the brain (if I'm even remembering that right). I don't remember how well this all worked, since I had an extremely stressful job at the time, and I also couldn't keep up with the extremely expensive and extensive blood tests, and also taking that many supplements at once made me sick. I have never been so directly aware of the fact that nutrition is really best taken in food, not in pill form.

I guess I'm thinking about all this for a confluence of random reasons. One is that I have to have filtered water to avoid taking on extra copper that way, and in my experience home water filters are often slow and unpredictable and I often hit a point in the day where I'm like, oh well, I guess I'm not allowed to drink anymore water. Not like it's the basis of all life or anything. Oh well. Another thing I was just thinking about, while we're packing up to move and throwing things out, is how incredibly susceptible to supplement hype I am, even though I've had bad experiences because of it. I saw some ad on TV the other day, it was on mute and I was trying to guess what it was for; it just showed a woman of a certain age doing a variety of unrelated, pleasurable activities. Finally the product came up and, as far as I could tell, it was a daily pill for your entire recommended fruit intake, and a daily pill for your entire recommended vegetable intake. I thought, God that's so dystopian. Isn't that a trope in dystopian sci-fi, where future people get all their meals from capsules? Is that in "In the Year 2525"? I know this is a thing, I must be able to think of examples. And finally I realized that what I was really remembering was SANTA CLAUS CONQUERS THE MARTIANS, a movie I find so fascinating that I've seen it many times WITHOUT the classic MST3K commentary.

But this just makes me think, maybe I need more Martian energy. Fuck off with this poisonous Venusian crap that's giving me depression and andrenal dysfunction and chronic fatigue and everything. Maybe I got that iron deficiency. Maybe I need to move to the fucking planet of Mars.

[darkmarkets]

The Horror of Writer's Doubt

(Or, is that an angry mob in your pocket, or...uh…)

Writers have a lot of afflictions to suffer from. We have the commonly known Writer’s Block, the lesser known Writer’s Apathy (when we need to write but kinda don’t want to at the moment), Writer’s Carpel Tunnel, Writer’s Desksores (like bedsores), Writer’s Syphilis…okay, maybe that last one is just me. But one of the most horrible writer’s afflictions one can suffer from—second only to the dreaded Writer’s Block, which has been known to wipe out whole villages—is the horrible Writer’s Doubt.

Writer’s Doubt often strikes just after that short period of euphoria that comes with getting something published. It’s that moment when the happy glow fades, and a doomful feeling creeps in to settle into the bottom of your stomach. It’s the “Oh, crap, somebody might actually read my stuff now” feeling. And the “Oh, crap, what if they hate it?”

Maria is one of many stricken by this horrible blight, and she had the courage to write in and tell us about it. She says:

April 15th saw the publication of my poem "Spectral Compromise" in the Absent Willow Review. I enjoy this magazine which is why I was eager to submit something worthwhile. I was thrilled when editor Rick De Cost emailed me back in February telling me the poem had been accepted for the April issue. Now…Day and night for the past few days my thoughts have been reeling over what the readers are thinking, what unkind things about the poem people from my former job might be emailing to the editors of the magazine, and basically just how unwelcome I feel in the world. 

A lot of worry to lay on the shoulders of one little poem. Now, of course, I'm dreading to even go to the magazine's website for fear that the poem might be taken down due to unpopular demand. While I've never seen the magazine's editors do this, in a nightmare it seems entirely possible. In a nightmare every one is panning your work, everyone is spreading lies about you, and everyone has nothing better to do except try and ruin your life.

What Maria is experiencing is Horror Writer’s Doubt. For Horror writers, Writer’s Doubt comes with an additional symptom—the nail-biting fear that once people actually read the gory stuff we’ve written, they’ll suddenly think us deranged serial killers and seek to destroy us.

But, take heart! Dr. Baphomet is in the house, and he has a few suggested medical treatments:

Don’t talk about your writing to your co-workers (or any other non-writer, non-Horror people you hang out with.) Oh, sure, tell them that you��re published, but don’t tell them where. This is a tactic I’ve employed to great effect. (I was a public school secretary for five years—one does not share their bowel-eating Lemur story with their kindly Republican principal.) Instead, choose to share your successes with those who will truly be able to appreciate them, like the friends who love how twisted you are or other horror buffs.

Just remember; it’s more likely no one’s reading our stuff, anyway. Yeah, that’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s a realistic one. And there’s nothing like crushing disappointment to fill the twitching, panicky void within us.

But, another thing to keep in mind is, hey—you just got published! Holy crapballs! Somebody liked your stuff enough to put it in their publication, and the people in this industry are freakin’ crazy about their publications. It’s their blood, sweat, and bloody-sweat that goes into making these magazines and publishing houses, so they only want to put the most awesome of Awesomeness into them. So, the fact that you’re suffering from Writer’s Doubt in the first place is an excellent sign. It means you wrote something that cast a glimmer of light from the murky depths of the slush pile to shine on some poor, beleaguered editor’s face. This is where, as a writer, you get to be proud.

You get to be proud you wrote something awesome. Sit back and enjoy it!  And, just remember that pride when a rampaging horde of former coworkers come to your door waving pitchforks and torches, crying "Kill the monster!" They probably wouldn't understand if you explained it to them, anyway.

Maria’s super-cool poem can be found at http://absentwillowreview.com/archives/spectral-compromise, that is, until the angry mob manages to get a hold of her. Read it while you can!

[c5634]

Laughing-part 1

Jerome Valeska x reader

736 words

She sat in darkness ripping out her hair as she broke out into uncontrolled laughter as she sobbed.

Everything was taken from her.

Her parents, her siblings, her boyfriend, her unborn child and her sanity.

It was burning as she choked on her own emotions.

She let out a piercing scream as she hugged her knees as she begged to stop laughing.

She clawed at her throat but the skin wouldn't tear.

The guards watched her laughing as she begged for death.

She fell to the floor and sobbed on the cold concrete.

She had never felt a pain such as this and what made her skin crawl is that it would never stop.

She sat in her cell after months of refusing to eat or drink.

She hoped taking her meds without food or water would kill her but it only made her sick.

She looked around in complete darkness as her door opened showing a guard as she shielded her eyes.

She looked at her as he grabbed her.

"Where are you taking me?" she said gathering enough strength to walk by herself.

"To the reck room, your therapist recommended you talk to others that aren't the voices in your head," he said with venom laced in his voice.

"Wait what?

No, please can I go back to my cell" said Prim.

The officer didn't respond as he dragged her into the reck room.

She looked at him with hate in her eyes before looking at the inmates.

She walked to a table and sat down before laying her head on her arms falling asleep slightly.

She wasn't protected but she had a history of killing inmates that annoyed her or made her go into a laughing fit which caused the inmates to back off except one.

"Move, this is my table bitch" said Barbra the new inmate.

"It's a table, technically it's the governments," said Prim in a soft voice.

"Do you know who I am?" said Barbra.

She looked at him "Go to the guys eyeing you like your a piece of meat and leave me alone" said Prim.

"No, im just going to sit here and you are going to move," said Barbra sitting down.

"Why?

What would you do to make me?" said Prim.

"I killed my parents what have you done?" said Barbra trying to threaten her.

"I've killed 100 people in three years, please leave me alone," she said coughing as she felt a laughing fit in her lungs.

Barbara looked at her in shock "Your lying" said Barbra getting up.

"Maybe?

Do you feel lucky enough to guess?" said Prim holding her throat.

Suddenly Barbra slapped her causing the whole room to look at them as she started laughing.

Barbara looked at her as she started crying.

"Wow, cool act.

Are you two related or something?" said Barbra looking at Jerome.

Suddenly guards ran to them restraining Barbra as a guard went at Prim with a needle.

"P-Please nn-no" stuttered Prim as she struggled to talk as the laughing got worse.

Suddenly the needle went into her back as the guard help her head against the table.

Prim cried out as she suddenly faded into a shell of a perfect as she laid there frozen.

Barbra looked at her as she was let go.

Days passed as the Maniax lived in Theo's penthouse.

Theo sat on his bed as he watched Prim sleep from heavy sedatives he injected into her body after she was brought to his penthouse.

The laughing fits she had caused her so much pain.

It chipped parts of her until only her bones remained.

Suddenly Jerome came in after Tabitha told him Theo needed a word with him.

"You wanted me boss," said Jerome smiling in the doorway.

"This girl, I want you to be her friend through this.

She lost her entire family and keeps having these horrific laughing fits that trigger randomly or with violence" said Theo.

"Yes sir," said Jerome saluting.

"I will need to give her pills she was on in Arkham and I know she hated taking them so I need you to help her build a tolerance until she is back to normal.

You will also be eating together as she has a building eating disorder" said Theo.

"Yes sir," said Jerome.

"Thank you Jerome" said Theo.

This was the beginning of their crazy story.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

House, M.D. Fanfic (8/?)

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to leave a note on my story. I hope you continue to enjoy my kind of rewrite and/or additions to certain episodes! As always, I don't own House. If I did, Lisa Edelstein would have gotten the respect she deserved contact wise for a season 8.

As stated in previous chapters, the story follows the big picture laid out on the show, but with my own take on things. This chapter starts with Cuddy's struggle to keep it a secret from House about his previous diagnosis being correct. I should say that I REALLY don't care much for early season 3 Wilson, and I'm going to do my best not to let that affect the storytelling. This chapter is longer... lots of story development to get through.

Thanks to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie on Tumblr for reading my ideas and providing positive feedback! Anything in the way of feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

xxxxx

She was definitely not comfortable lying to House about this. He deserved to know he was right. She didn't know why Wilson suddenly thought he needed to teach House a lesson on humility and make her a party to it. "I have to tell him. I see him every day. I..."

"Everybody lies."

Wilson's words echo through her head that night as her head lay on his shoulder, her fingers tracing lines across his chest. "You were right."

He turned his head slightly to see her better. "I'm right about a lot of things. You're going to have to be a little more specific."

She pushed up slightly on her elbow, the sheet sliding down her chest a bit. "Your patient. In the wheelchair," she started.

He smiled slowly. "You gave him the shot."

She sighed, dropping her head back to his shoulder. "I gave him the shot."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. Because you see things the rest of us don't see. Because as infuriating as it is, you're never wrong about the medicine."

He smiled smugly. "I was right."

"Yes," she sighed, rubbing her face. "You're always right. The man stood up from his wheelchair and hugged his son."

"You weren't going to tell me..."

She looked up at him then. "Wilson thought it was a bad idea..."

"Wilson would think this is a bad idea too. That mean you're going to stop sleeping with me to get pregnant?"

"No, of course not..."

"Then why are you suddenly listening to him?"

She was quiet a moment. "You like the high. The night you showed up outside my window with your diagnosis, you were higher than I've ever seen you on Vicodin. We just worry about you."

"And yet you told me anyway," he pointed out, shifting to get up and grab his boxer briefs. He needed to walk. He needed to think.

She made a grab for his shirt and slipped it on. There was an argument brewing. "You're an addict, House. You're always looking for a fix. If it's not Vicodin, it's a medical mystery that only you can solve. If you don't have the puzzle, you get your high in my bed. Its all just a fix for you."

"That's what you think this is? That's all you think you are? A fix because I don't use Vicodin anymore and you told me no at work?" He spun around to face her. The look in her eyes said it all... she did think that's all she was to him. "I'm going home," he started pulling on his clothes.

"House, that's not what I said..."

"You said enough. I got my 'fix.' Keep the shirt." He headed for the front door.

"House!" She called after him. But it was too late as she heard the front door slam. She sighed and for back into bed. She should have said something. She should have told him him she knew she wasn't just a fix...because she did know. This had been going on for months... it was way past just sleeping together to get a fix or to get pregnant.

Her hand moved over the place he'd occupied in her bed not even ten minutes before. How had this even spiraled out of control that quickly? Sliding closer to his pillow, she inhaled his scent. She could hear his bike engine revving as he tore down the street, and she knew sleep was not going to come easy now in her empty bed.

xxxxx

"How's the leg?" she asked cautiously as she opened his door. She wasn't going to push too much since they were at work, but she was trying to judge his mood. Especially since he hadn't bothered to tell her that his leg was starting to hurt again.

He looked up from his desk and saw her entering his office. "My leg is fine."

"You're limping. Cameron thinks it's because we lied to you. We both know that I already told you, so that's not it. Is it because we had a fight?"

"Your breasts are different," he studied her closely, completely ignoring her attempt to talk about him.

She continued unfazed. "Wilson thinks I haven't told you, and that I'm feeling guilty and want to coddle you."

He shook his head. "You're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant. How badly does your leg hurt?"

"Your breasts are firmer. As someone who had intimate knowledge with the girls, I would know," he stated. "You're pregnant."

"It's called an underwire. Tell me about your damn leg." She was not going to let him deflect by turning the tables on her.

"My leg is fine."

"Let me do a scan on your brain. If the Ketamine is wearing off..."

"Let me do a pregnancy test." They each wanted to test the other. Fair was fair, after all.

"House, I'm not pregnant!" she dropped her voice at the end, not wanting that word to escape the walls of his office.

"You've been taking fertility drugs. You've been getting laid on a regular basis, without protection. Your breasts have enlarged. You're doing crazy things, because I can't think of any other reason why you would ever listen to Wilson about lying to me. You're pregnant."

"You're not always right, you know."

"Actually I am. You said so yourself. I'm never wrong about the medicine. But you and Wilson would just have me think I'm wrong. You'd rather have me doubt myself and lie to me about it than tell me the truth and prove I'm right," he said lowly, massaging his thigh.

"House, let me look at your leg."

"My leg is fine!" After a moment, he dropped his head slightly. "Don't you think if I thought the treatment wasn't working that I'd do something to try to fix it?"

She sighed softly. "If it gets worse, call me." She knew she wasn't getting anywhere with him then, so pushing further was futile. He was still pissed at her for not telling him he was right. She was pissed at herself for going against her better judgement on this and actually listening to Wilson.

xxxxx

He hated that he'd had to grab his cane. He hated that he had taken the pills. He hated that he was now standing on her front porch, leaning against his cane, knocking on her door.

"Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?"

She wasn't surprised to see him, not really. Not after the way they left things. She was, however, surprised to see him with his cane. "Why do you keep insisting I'm pregnant?" She moved to let him in.

"Why do you keep insisting you're not?" He studied her. That had, afterall, been the purpose of them sleeping together to begin with. She had been very actively trying to get pregnant. So why was she now suddenly opposed to taking a pregnancy test to try to confirm it when he suspected it?

"You're walking with your cane. That means the Ketamine wore off." Now she was deflecting.

"Or it just means I need my next fix. That's what you and Wilson expect of me anyway, right? No puzzle to take my mind off it. Time to give sex a whirl."

She crossed her arms. "That's why you're here?"

"Why not? You have been so eager to welcome me into your bed. Figure I'll get high on endorphins from mind blowing sex and walk out of here without my cane," he said sarcastically. He caught the hurt look on her face at his comment and looked away.

"Call one of your hookers if you want mind blowing sex. I'm not in the mood," she turned to walk away.

"Hookers can do the distraction. They can't do the mind blowing sex. They don't do what you do..." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He'd crossed a line with that last insult, and he knew it. He'd tried to hurt her with it... knew just what button to push to get the desired reaction. "I took the Vicodin. My leg hurts," he admitted quietly.

She took a step closer then, resting a hand on his arm. "We can figure something out."

He shook his head. "Nope. Tried Ketamine. It didn't work. House the cripple is back for good," he told her simply. He'd gotten a beautiful glimpse into a pain free life, had allowed himself to hope, only to have it yanked away. "Probably for the best. I do my best work this way. Less likely to screw up diagnosing patients when I'm in pain. More likely to be an insensitive ass, but less likely to miss something and screw up the medicine."

"House..."

"Are. You. Pregnant?" his voice low, his eyes dark as he closed down any chance of continuing to talk about himself.

"No," she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms once more.

"Take a test?"

"No. It's not time y..."

"Then how do you know?" He interrupted her, moving closer.

"It's too early to..."

"Better to have another go then. Just to make sure it takes," he murmured lowly, pulling her against him in a kiss then. He was ready to lose himself in her and the way she could make him forget everything else.

At first she was going to push him away, but after a moment, her body melted against his, not bothering to stop him as he pushed her shirt up and over her head. He was in pain. He needed the distraction. Maybe she did too. Maybe she needed the high of sex with him even more than he did. Biting his lower lip as she deepened the kiss, she shoved him back against the wall hard.

He growled when his back hit the wall, his eyes darkening with lust, fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her roughly against him. His mouth moved to her neck, biting her pulse point hard and causing her to hiss, before soothing the spot with his tongue. She'd have to cover that with makeup tomorrow.

Her hands started pulling at his clothes as they worked their way to her bedroom. He closed the door with her body, pushing her back against it as his hands slid to her thighs and lifted her up, using the door to support the added weight so it didn't mess with his leg.

xxxxx

They finally both fell into her bed, breathless and in better moods. "Does that count as makeup sex? Or is that still angry sex?" He asked a moment later.

She lifted her head and couldn't help but smile slightly. "Shut up, House."

"I just need to know if I'm going to be expected to go another round for makeup sex, or if that was already covered..."

She grabbed her pillow from where it had landed on the floor earlier and smacked him lightly with it before shifting to get more comfortable in bed. "Shut up, House." But she did giggle softly to take the bite out of her words. She wasn't mad anymore. He didn't seem to be either. "Go to sleep."

[alj4890]

A Little Romance Couldn't Hurt

(Maxwell x Amanda) as requested by @krsnlove with the below prompt. Taken from The Other Friend Series.

Brought in some of The Red Carpet gang for a few scenes 😉

A/N this started out as a fluffy Friday story, but became too long and complicated. But a promise is a promise, so here it is. Everything, except the rocks and famous people, have happened to me on various vacations with friends or my husband, LOL. Always make sure to travel with someone who can make you laugh. And bring pain pills.

"Whoohoo!" Maxwell exclaimed as he walked out on the balcony. Carmel was absolutely beautiful. He and Amanda had left their little girls with Liam and Riley and had come for two weeks of fun in the sun and a few meetings with Thomas Hunt. Maxwell had plans though that involved some special alone time without a six year old and her three year old sister running about.

He rubbed his hands in anticipation. This was just what they needed. He returned to the suite and grinned when he saw Amanda on the phone. She had already called before they took off, while somewhere over Kentucky, and when they landed. She looked up at him. "Here's your daddy. Love you angels!"

Maxwell talked for a few minutes and told the girls he loved them. He tossed the phone aside and tackled Amanda on the bed. She giggled as he propped himself up on his elbows. His expression was filled with mock surprise. "Sorry, I tripped." She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss.

They were interrupted from exploring this long forgotten freedom by the phone ringing. It was Thomas. He had arrived early and was waiting down in the lobby. "We will be right down." Amanda said while Maxwell shook his head, no. "See you soon."

He groaned and pulled her closer. "Wouldn't you rather stay here for a romantic beginning to our getaway?" He kissed along her jawline to her lips. He rolled over, causing her to laugh into the kiss.

"Yes, I would. That's why I'm going down there now so that I can hurry back up here and be alone with you." She moved her lips down his neck as she talked. "Let's go." She pushed off and grabbed his hand. He groaned and got up. "How did I end up with someone so cruel?"

The lobby was teaming with people. Luggage was moving at an alarming speed by the staff trying to get everyone situated. Maxwell saw a luggage cart barreling toward Amanda and shoved her out of the way. He was knocked down and bags landed on his back. His cry of pain echoed around the room.

"Maxwell!" Amanda began to try and pull the bags off of him but they were unusually heavy. Thomas ran over and tried to assist her. "Are there bricks in these bags?" He growled as he lifted.

"Actually, it's rocks." They turned to see a nervous looking man. "I'm a geologist and I brought some samples to share at UCLA."

"Well don't just stand there! Help us!" Thomas yelled. They soon had Maxwell unearthed and he moaned in pain. "My back." He stayed still trying not to tense up. The manager ran over, apologizing while yelling for a doctor to be called.

A few hours later, Maxwell was lying in bed feeling the effects of the muscle relaxer. Amanda had been alternating between heat and ice, while grimacing at the darkening bruises. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to a spot that had no mark.

He had a loopy smile on his face. "That felt nice." He said in a slightly slurred voice. Amanda gently ran her hand down his back. He would have a few days of swelling and spasms. So much for their romantic beginning.

Five days later, a rather grumpy Maxwell watched his wife get ready to go down to the beach. Apparently, Ryan Summers had invited a bunch of the friends she had made her first time here for a little fun in the sun. There was no way he was letting her go without him.

"You sure you feel up to it?" She asked for the fifth time. "I won't stay long if you want to lay back down."

"I'm fine." He bit out.

Amanda paused and looked at him. "You don't sound fine."

"I'm fine." He stressed again.

"Ah yes, the positivity just oozes from you." She teased.

His lips quirked and he couldn't help laughing at how ridiculous this trip had been so far. “I am gonna be so positive today! Positive or DEATH TO ALL!”

"Took a bit of a dark turn there at the end." She said, slipping her hand in his as they walked out.

"Well, you would worry about me if I was suddenly sunshine and rainbows after the last couple of days." He stepped out onto the warm sand and gazed out at the deep blue water. This was what he needed. He smiled down at Amanda as she wrapped her arms around him. Well, he needed something else too, but this was a good start.

They heard their names called out and turned to see a group waving at them. A petite blonde came running at full speed and hugged Amanda, squealing with delight. "Addison! It has been too long."

"I know! I've missed you guys like crazy." She grabbed Maxwell and hugged him.

"Careful!" Maxwell exclaimed when she squeezed hard.

"Sorry! Thomas told me what happened." She grabbed both their hands and pulled them along. They spent the afternoon enjoying the time with everyone. Maxwell relaxed back in his beach chair and was even found smiling most of the time.

His eyes rested on Amanda often. Addison and Holly had talked her and Thomas into playing badminton. During the hilariously bad plays, he noticed Amanda was looking a little red. He called out to her and rummaged around in her beach bag. "Uh oh."

"What's wrong." She asked as she sat down beside him.

"You look a little red. And we have no sun block." His eyes widened when he got a closer look at her. "Umm. We might need to get you inside."

"What? Why?" She asked. He pointed at her shoulders. Not only were they red, they had begun to blister. "What did you put on?" He asked.

"It was some kind of weird stuff Addison had. She said she used it all the time at the beach and that I had to give it a try." They yelled out to her.

"What's up? Holy crap! Your shoulders! Wait...which stuff did you put on?" Addison asked. "Did it smell like lemons or coconut?"

"Coconut. Why?" Amanda began to feel alarmed.

"Yeah... that's my super secret dark tanning lotion. I barely stay out for an hour when I have that on." Addison seemed worried.

"I've been out here for over three hours with it!" Amanda exclaimed. Now that it had been pointed out, she could feel the burn.

Maxwell stood up and they said their goodbyes. When they got back to the room and she removed her top, they both stared in horror. "I look like an overcooked lobster." She whispered.

"Yes you do. Did I mention that I love lobsters?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her causing her to giggle. She sobered the longer she looked at the crisp carcass that once was her body.

She teared up as she looked at her shoulders. For some weird reason they were the only blistered part. Everywhere else was red. Her cheeks and forehead were bright red and her nose...good grief. Through the tears of pain, she started laughing. "Who knew my love of all things coconut would lead to my downfall? I thought their shells were the only thing to cause bodily harm."

Maxwell started laughing and grabbed his back. "Ow! Don't make me laugh so hard." This caused them both to laugh harder. Amanda gingerly laid down on the top of the cover, cringing as her raw skin touched the comforter. He groaned as he stretched out beside her. "So..." He began, a teasing glint in his eyes. "This has got to be our most romantic getaway ever."

Amanda laughed. "I would kiss you but I think my lips were singed off by the sun."

"I would lean over and kiss you back, but I would never be able to move again." Maxwell said. He glanced at her and grimaced. "I can literally feel the heat of your burns way over here."

Amanda nodded. "I'm freezing but I'm pretty sure I would pass out from the pain if I pulled a blanket over me." She thought a minute and grabbed a blanket. It hurt like crap but she was still conscious. "Didn't work."

Maxwell slowly moved closer to her. She eyed him warily, afriad he would bump into her. He stopped about six inches away and collapsed. "Okay...by my math, if we can miraculously heal in two days, we will have at least one whole week to ourselves." He turned his head to look at his badly burned wife.

She met his eyes and began to laugh. "In case it was burned off, I was raising my eyebrow in disbelief." He snorted and the bed shook as they continued to tease each other until they fell asleep.

The next morning, Amanda opened her eyes and tried to get up. Her burned skin was tight and she hobbled around slightly bent. She looked in the mirror and realized she looked worse than before. Her shoulders had literally been basted with coconut substances and cooked for hours. The blisters ran deep around where her straps had been. MaxwelI heard her moan in agony as she tried the shower. She got out and ran the tub faucet and slowly sat down.

He tried to get up but his back had spasmed. "Babe. You okay?" He called out.

"Not sure. Think so. You?" She replied.

"I can't get up at the moment. Know that I would have checked on you if I could." He moaned and rolled over on his stomach.

"That's why I love you. I would come check on you but I barely got in the tub. This might be my new residence. Be sure to bring the kids by for holidays." Amanda tried to lean back and sucked in a painful breath.

After a little while she was able to get out of the tub. She tried to gently pat dry her messed up skin. Maxwell finally got up and walked in the bathroom. He averted his eyes. Her burns hurt just looking at them.

"I saw that. I know I look disgusting." She mumbled as she tried to put a t-shirt on. She gasped and breathed hard through the pain.

Maxwell shook his head. "You know I don't think that. It hurts me seeing you like that." He looked at her and frowned. "There is nowhere to kiss you that won't hurt."

Amanda reached for the boxers she stole from him. And slipped them on slowly. "That's better." She shuffled out and tried to sit down on the couch. "Nope." She got back into bed. The comforter was softer. Maxwell ran a shower and sighed as the hot water hit his sore spots.

He got dressed in pj bottoms and a shirt. He smiled and stretched out next to her. "You know...I had planned on the two of us spending most of the trip here. This wasn't what I had in mind."

Amanda laughed and barely kissed him. Her lips were raw but she couldn't resist.

And so it went for the following days. Finally, Maxwell's back stopped hurting. Amanda's burns, save for the very top of her shoulders, had healed. They decided to celebrate with a romantic night out.

Maxwell was tying his tie when Amanda stepped out in a little black dress and did a slow twirl. He let out a low whistle. "If I did not want to show you off so much, I would suggest we stay here." He ran his hands down her back as he kissed her.

She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He smiled, planning in his mind how the evening would go. It was going to be a night to remember.

2 hours later.

"Why does this place hate us so much?!" Amanda cried out. She heaved over the toilet. Maxwell was in the other bathroom heaving over his own. "I don't know. But I want to go home." He sighed and collapsed on the floor. Food poisoning. At a five star restaurant. Why?

After he knew nothing else would come up, he crawled out to check to see if he was a widower. It was too quiet in the other bathroom. He stuck his head in and saw her laying in the floor. Her chest was slowly moving up and down so he didn't have to worry. He crawled next to her and laid down.

"If it's cool with you, I'm going to die. You are such a great father that you and the girls will be fine." She whispered.

"You can't. I'm dying right now. One of us has to stay for the kids. They need you more. You're the perfect mom. Plus I think I just died during that last sentence."

Amanda rolled over slowly. She took his hand. "I'm going with you. The girls have all those godparents. It's safe for us both to die."

2 days later.

They finished packing what they could, ready to leave whatever level of hell they had stumbled into. Their jet was being made ready for the earliest possible departure. Maxwell glanced around at the room that had been a prison, hospital room, and a torture chamber. He opened the door to step out on the balcony when Amanda jumped in front of him.

"Are you crazy?! You step out there and either an anvil will fall on you or some giant bird knocks you off the balcony." She pushed him away and went to shut the door when a bat flew in.

They screamed and ran out of the room.

1 hour later

Their private jet seemed the best place to wait for the next 10 hours. They placed their bags down and reclined in their seats. Amanda opened her eyes and looked at the only man she knew who could make her laugh so much during so many crazy, rather painful situations. She gently touched his cheek. He opened his eyes and grinned. He kissed the hand against his cheek.

"I love you so very much." She whispered.

"I love you so very much too." He whispered back. He tucked a blanket around the two of them and pulled her close. He let out a contented sigh and went to sleep.