#my feelings are all over the place like its Monday and ill be on pm shift this week but my head is still on the clouds

[collecting--stardust]

This weekend was crazy because I spent Friday crying and dying over the fact that cele might not have a seat, Saturday was insane because cele is back on the front row which means parc ferme interview (his thank you ciao is back!!!) and I was so happy I felt giddy all night and Sunday was spent crying and feeling so happy I might combust because after almost a year we got cele back on the parc ferme after a race and he got to be on the top step of the podium (and the 'thank you to everyone who support me at home' is back and his little ciao and he seems so happy and relieved and-) 😭😭😭

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Mentally Ill! xReader:

Another request from someone else in my second book of yandere stuff.

Yandere: Anderson.

Warning: In this section there are topics such as mental illness, substance use (medications), gore, kidnapping, delusions and hallucinations, as well as mental decline, mention of dead animals and a suicide. They were warned. And pictures are not mine.

*Narrator PO.V*

Ah, life with mental illness is difficult, not to call it hell, right or not?

Some diseases are milder than others, and even share symptoms with each other, but containing their notable differences that characterize them. That was the disturbing case of a boy named Anderson, who was a victim of the terrifying mental illness called Schizophrenia, unlike his twin brother Axel, who was healthy compared to his brother.

Anderson constantly had visual and auditory hallucinations about things that weren't really there, causing him to see himself as "the crazy weirdo" in school and family. The only one who never told him that was Axel, since they got along very well with each other and Axel, thanks to his brother's Schizophrenia, became interested in the subject of mental illness until high school.

Anderson was going to mental health specialists from a very young age and in general his Schizophrenia was not cured but controlled due to the medications prescribed by the doctors.

Or at least until adulthood.

And why do I say it like that? Because when he finished his studies and got ready to work, still under his proper psychological care and medication, he met a girl, a new neighbor to be more specific.

--Hmm, hello, I guess… You are the new neighbor-- He walked over seeing how pretty she was as she finished loading the last cardboard box with her belongings.

--hmm? Oh yeah, it's me, and you're…?-- As soon as their eyes met, he felt a kind of small palpitation in his chest, but Anderson didn't know exactly what it was.

--I'm Anderson, nice to meet you, can I help you?-- The girl politely shook her head and introduced herself as (Y/n), to which Anderson said that he was welcome to her and if she needed anything she would let him know and he would help her.

Poor girl.

Time passed and the girl adapted to her new neighborhood, which was quieter than her previous neighborhood. She came from a toxic family environment from which she has now completely disassociated herself. She dedicated herself to working as a nurse in a hospital near her new home, which was quite nice, although somewhat small, but since she would live alone, it did not hurt her at all.

However, she did not know that her tranquility would be affected again after meeting Anderson, whom she noticed as a bit strange, but she supposed that it would only be a passing feeling.

--Uff, finally-- She said somewhat tired after arranging the remaining things from her last box, which were the glasses and some other dishes that are now in their respective places in the kitchen, then she goes to her room and lies down on her bed to rest. It was already night anyway and tomorrow she has work, so she preferred to fall asleep.

Unaware that someone was harassing her from her window in another house.

Two years have passed since that first meeting, it was already March 2020 and covid-19 was at its strongest, so (Y/n) spent most of his time in his respective hospital working from Monday to Friday from very early until very late, and on Saturdays from 7:00 AM to 2:00 PM, without much noticing the danger that lurked in her path.

But Anderson had other things on his mind. He fell madly in love with her, to the point that he "forgot" to take his medications, which made him gradually have visual and auditory hallucinations of (Y/n) having a beautiful friendship with him, and what has Axel done before All this? When he found out that his brother had gradually stopped taking his medication, he threatened to send him to the asylum if he didn't listen, and Anderson distanced himself from him.

--Oh (Y/n), you're so cute-- Things got to a point where not only did the unbelievable harassment of poor (Y/n) increase, but she couldn't tell what was a hallucination or what was reality in general.

--Oh, thanks-- It was what "__" ended up answering.

--Would you be my girlfriend?-- Yes, he had fallen very much in love with her, to the point of hallucinating that and hearing voices that told him things like "get rid of the competition", "Don't take those pills, your brother just wants to see you suffer separated from (Y/n) ", "KILL THE COMPETITION NOW" and a lot of other things. He believed that (Y/n) loved him back, but she wasn't really interested in Anderson in the slightest no matter how pretty she thought he looked.

She was constantly harassed by him, and this made her feel super grossed out and insecure on a very frequent basis, however, that wasn't the worst of it. Things got out of control when he broke into her house while she was sleeping and kidnapped her in the basement of his house, without telling Axel that Anderson had prepared the basement for her exclusively, since it was very spacious and thanks to his hallucinations, "(Y/n)" loved what he did to her.

--We're finally as close as we've always wanted to be, love-- He approached the terrified and confused girl, who had barely spoken to him in all the time she and he spoke.

--Hmmmmm? (But what are you talking about?)-- She tried to untie herself, but she couldn't.

Hell has begun.

Time passed and everything got worse.

While Anderson believed through his hallucinations that he and "(Y/n)" had a perfect romantic life and that she loved him, the real (Y/n) actually suffered from the worst mistreatment by Anderson in that basement that he unconsciously gave her, since she believed in his mind that they just had "normal little couple arguments", this experience being MUCH worse than when she lived with her evil parents.

--(Y/N)! COME BACK HERE!-- Every time she tried to run away, he would drag her back to him. Not to mention another important fact, and that is that on every Valentine's Day, even before the kidnapping, Anderson gave him more and more macabre gifts such as organs from dead animals such as rodents, mainly hearts, since due to his hallucinations, he believed that he I was giving away nice things.

That only made her more terrified, especially the time she found a dead rabbit in a box. The poor little animal had a heart cooked on its chest, from which (Y/n), as a nurse, suspected that someone very disgusting and evil had already taken it out, and on the lid of the box it said "I love you very much". Maybe Anderson thought it was a stuffed animal because of his illness and that's why he didn't realize what he was actually doing to that poor animal.

--Ah, Sweetheart-- He hugged her from behind and then kissed her cheek while she was just paralyzed with fear.

--Why do you avoid me? Are you mad at me?-- She was crying, although Anderson didn't see that. The girl had quite a few bruises on her due to the mistreatment that Anderson unconsciously gave her, but for him they were just common couple arguments as always.

Was it mentioned that (Y/n) and Anderson had had sexual relations? Well, if they had done it, with (Y/n) giving in for fear of the worst abuse and mistreatment a few months ago, without getting pregnant since she was sterile, and therefore, could not have children and she had been aware of that for a long time, but Anderson "I saw" that it "pregnated" her and here began the real and hair-raising descent into madness.

--We will be the best parents-- He kissed her cheek as he caressed her non-existent swollen belly.

Something happened.

Something a little… loud.

Anderson and she were "arguing" and (Y/n) was "in her last month of pregnancy", however, Anderson, in his hallucination, saw that "(Y/n)" began to bleed and give some screams of pain for a few seconds and fell sitting on the chair, so he thought she was giving birth and "helped" her.

Yes, he helped her on the sofa with the baby, however, the adrenaline did not allow him to think well about taking her to a hospital.

And speaking of hospitals…

Someone had been working in a mental hospital for quite some time, and that was none other than Axel, Anderson's healthy twin brother, with whom the latter had a big fight for not giving in to taking his medications. By now it was already January 2022, and Axel was beginning to consider the idea of ​​trying to visit him to see how he was doing, or that he would try to invite him to his house, why? because she was beginning to suspect that he was not taking his medications.

--Hmm, what can I do?-- Now, Axel has a lot of sympathy for his brother, and it hurt him that Anderson distanced himself from him for not wanting to take his medication that time. But he said he'd take them again, but Axel isn't buying that, and even though he's tired of fighting, he adores his brother and doesn't want to see him broke or in the asylum.

She has even kept a diary about how she felt about this topic, the suspicions she had, and other medical issues she works on. In his spare time, while having a coffee after having followed up one of his many patients with schizophrenia during the day.

<Uff, to try this again, and if not, I will have to intern him> He sighed tiredly after thinking this and taking a sip of his cup of coffee while he walked a little around the room or office. He looked at his watch and realized that his shift is over, so he gathered his things, closed his office and got ready to go home in his car.

As he drove, he thought that he could get closer to Anderson and try to invite him to his house as something casual, invite him to eat and then take the opportunity to secretly give him his medications.

Yes, that would.

Meanwhile, Anderson, unaware of reality, always found a horrible smell, so "his girlfriend" told him to perfume the floor, and it worked, in fact. So he put his plan into action, right away.

The days passed.

It was already February 14.

Axel had been inviting Anderson to make amends, which yes, for a large part he wanted that, but for another large part, he wanted to make sure he was okay, and today, February 14, would be no exception at all.

--You know? I finally got a pretty girl like no girlfriend, we even had a son-- While Axel looked at him confused, Anderson sounded passionate about his beloved and her baby. By this time, Anderson had already taken the medicine without realizing it, which Axel celebrated mentally so as not to raise suspicions, and everything was going smoothly until a call resounded in the room, so Axel went to answer it.

--------------------------------Call----------------------------------

--Yes? Hello? Who speaks?-- Axel asked waving.

--Good afternoon, are you a certain Axel Stevenson? Brother of Anderson Stevenson?-- Who was speaking was another man next to the phone, which confused Axel a bit, who was still unaware of the terrifying context.

--Yes, it's me, what's going on and who do I talk to?-- Axel replied confused.

--I am Police Officer William Mendez. Anderson Stevenson's neighbors contacted us because they detected a rotten smell in his house, is his brother here so we can talk to him directly?-- And if Axel was confused before, now alarmed and even worse. His suspicions that his brother was off his meds were becoming more and more certain, but what the hell had Anderson done to his house to make it smell that way to the point that the police had to be called?

--Um… yes, he is, let me call you for a moment-- He left the phone for a moment to signal to his brother that they were calling him, to which he came and Axel went to finish collecting some things, and while that, he hears his brother say something like:

--HOW IS SHE DEAD?! I-I'm going there-- Axel was more disturbed to hear his brother like that. So immediately after Anderson hung up the call, he dropped everything and got in his car to walk him home.

*End of Call*

The twins had arrived and the police were outside, so Anderson hurriedly went inside while Axel stood outside talking to the guards. Anderson was walking down the corridor in which he ran into the dried blood, which formed a trail and upon reaching the room, he ran into the body of his beloved (Y/n) with stab marks, especially in the stomach from which his guts protruded and brains and in front of her was the stroller that Anderson bought for her son and when she got closer to see its state, she realized a harsh and terrifying reality.

His son was actually a mass of meat and brains coming out of the guts of (Y/n), where the belly was supposed to be.

His precious son never existed.

It was all a cruel hallucination.

Then he remembered the time he had the hallucination in which his "pregnant girlfriend" was starting to bleed and "give birth" and that's when he understood everything.

She wasn't bleeding because she was giving birth, but because Anderson himself had killed her and unconsciously ripped out her guts, pretending that this was the son that never was.

In the end… as a Valentine's gift… he got that cruel news as the only gift of the day of love and friendship. A girlfriend he killed because of his illness and a son who never existed apart from a mental breakdown. Axel was also witnessing everything and to tell the truth he was shocked, disgusted, in denial phase and finally the most difficult one, acceptance.

*Axel PO.V*

It's been a while since that tragic February 14, 2022. My brother was to blame for that tragic murder of that poor girl whom he may have hallucinated as his girlfriend, product of his schizophrenia and as much as it hurt me, I had to commit him to hospital. the city madhouse. And do not think that I have enjoyed this, on the contrary, it hurt me a lot in the soul but it is a sacrifice that I had to make.

No, he's not in the same mental hospital where I work. That would be a lot of emotional burden for me, and for him too, but I have a friend who is the one who evaluates him and says that now he is constantly medicated, sometimes by force, and that he spends his time in his room looking mostly at nothing when no one but him is there, or else, he spent his time scratching the name of that girl and her non-existent son on the walls.

It was also partly my fault for letting him distance himself from me. And you know what? That case, unfortunately for me, became public, and since I am similar to my brother, except for a few small details, sometimes people tell me not very nice comments, so I was forced to change my appearance.

--Why does this have to be like this?-- This situation sometimes makes me want to cry from the great sadness that it gave me to see how someone I loved very much during my childhood and adolescence despite our fights, has collapsed to such an extent.

*Narrator PO.V*

Anderson was constantly medicated in that asylum where there were others like him. I was in a padded room and wearing a white straitjacket most of the time.

--Forgive me, (Y/n)-- It was what he constantly whispered while having that tragic memory over and over again, even in his nightmares for a long two years in which his brother Axel would visit him from time to time since the parents of the twins found out what their son Anderson did, they wanted nothing to do with him.

In the end… Anderson ended up committing suicide, overdosing on medication when he had the opportunity to steal it.

And all for a tragic Valentine's gift.

-The End.

[dw-writes]

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter Three

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: HI GUYS HAPPY FRIDAY!!!!! :D I’m....SO stoked about this series. It’s so much fun, I have a full plot from start to finish, and its??? UGH I’m excited. And I’m excited for this chapter! Because it’s interesting and dives into not only the main plot but the sub plot!! So!! I hope that you enjoy this chapter~!

IF YOU GUYS WANT TO FOLLOW THIS SERIES, LET ME KNOW AND ILL ADD YOU TO THE TAG LIST FOR IT!!!

Also, how do you guys like the new presentation? I think having the summary at the beginning really helps out! :D

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix

You followed the case from the safety of the internet, Lucifer’s emoji filled texts, and wildly inappropriate pictures of the crime scene and suspects. For days, it was all that occupied your mornings, and afternoons you fell into the groove of managing Lux. Once the case was closed, it was all Lux all the time. And…well, running Lux was so much harder than it looked. Add being Lucifer’s personal assistant on top of it? It made your life a living Hell.

You laid down some ground rules after three weeks straight of nothing but Work: Monday and Tuesday you were Unavailable. You did not exist on Mondays and Tuesdays. Nothing, not even the end of the world, could get you off your couch between 12:00 AM Monday morning, to 11:59 PM Tuesday evening. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

So why were you standing in front of Lux in the middle of said unavailable Monday morning?

You clutched your beaten backpack in one hand as you struggled to dredge through the memories, staring up at the sleek silver sign of the club. It took time, but once you made it to the center of your Monday morning memory block, you recalled exactly why you had ended up at Lux’s front doors.

You withdrew from your classes to take the rest of the semester off, and evaluate if you even wanted to finish school. It was a blow to your pride. The meeting itself was difficult as you struggled not to cry while you explained to each of your professors that you needed to leave their classes. They gave the normal nods, the I understands, but you could tell from the looks on their faces that they didn’t expect you back. To them, you were just another drop out.

It made the upset anxiety turn into boiling anger.

You clutched your bag tighter, adjusted it on your back, and pushed the doors open to the club.

Maze was right where you expected her to be – behind the counter, taking inventory of the alcohol. She threw a cursory glance over her shoulder, then turned completely around, eyes only a fraction wider than normal. “You made Lucifer sign a piece of paper saying he couldn’t call you on Monday,” she pointed out.

You dropped your bag on the counter. “I left school,” you said.

She shrugged and set a glass on the counter before you. “Good,” she scoffed as she poured two fingers of the finest whiskey she had, “You were too good for that place.” She offered you the glass. When you declined, she took a sip instead. “A bunch of humans thinking they’re smarter than everyone else.” Her lip curled as she sucked on her teeth.

“Actually, that’s why I came by.” You upended your bag, sending a collection of old boxing wraps, gloves, and mitts scattering across the bar. “I wanna hit something.”

Maze moaned, taking in everything you had spilled on the counter. She looked up at you. “Have I told you that I enjoy you being here, yet?” She picked up the wraps. “You even practice safety in the gym.” She hissed, slow and sultry, and met your gaze.

Your jutted your jaw and widened your eyes. “Yeah, because I want ever trip to the gym to be oddly sexual,” you mumbled.

Maze scoffed and dropped the wraps. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, Mazikeen, that is not the point of the gym,” you sighed.

She squinted, and sipped her drink. “Then why do human women wear tight clothing there?”

There was another one. Human, said as if she wasn’t one, but merely observing another species. It reminded you of an anthropologist, and created disturbing images of Maze in a Jane Goodall hat. You pursed your lips in a lemon pout. You didn’t really like that image, but didn’t say anything. Let her keep her weird vocabulary.

You sighed and shook your head. “Why do you, Mazikeen?”

“Maze.” Her correction snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could ask, she downed the rest of her drink. “Because I know that this,” she waved to her body, “Is delectable.” She slammed the glass onto the bar a little too hard. “It’s like a candy wrapper.”

“No.”

“You know, leather, and yoga pants.”

“That’s not it at all, Maze.”

“Sports bras.”

“Maze.”

“Especially the ones with the zipper in the front?”

You started to shove your work out gear back into the bag.

“Do you have sweat pants?” she asked. She tilted her head as she leaned on the bar. “Yoga pants?” You bounced a wrap roll off her shoulder.

“Stop,” you drawled impatiently. “I came to invite you, and now you’re being weird about it.” You shouldered the bag once everything was collected.

She sat up, spine straightening to the point that something popped. “Wait, you actually PAY to go use someone else’s equipment to work out?” she asked. You nodded, and earned a scoff. “No. No, no, no.” Maze rounded the bar and took your bag. “You can fight me. Here. Right now.” She pulled on a pair of target gloves. “I’ll teach you how to fight a hellion.”

So she did. She did just that for almost five hours. Maze decided that it was best to give you a break when you stumbled over your own feet, fell onto the steps of club, and couldn’t get back up.

“Are you beating up on our administration staff already, Maze?” You dropped your head back, and followed the motion until you were lying on the floor, to see Lucifer standing behind you. He was fixing a cufflink, and arched an eyebrow at your compromising position, with a smile worming across his face. “Oh, hello.”

Maze shouted your name from across Lux as she said, “Wanted to fight!”

Lucifer crouched to help you sit up, and took the space next to you. “Now, why the Me would you do something as silly as that?” he asked. He took your hand, undid your glove, and proceeded to roll your wraps off your scorching skin.

You heaved a heavy sigh, motioning to Maze. “She said it.”

“Well yes, but why?” he asked again. His fingers were cold on your wrist. Your pulse jumped. As the wrap left your hand and he started on the other one, you explained what happened. “No?” You mimicked the question, voice high and confused as he removed the second wrap completely. “No, why did you leave school? The point was to do school, and keep working!”

You yanked the things from his hands and stood. “One, I can’t do jack—”

“How about Jill?” Lucifer quipped. You rolled your eyes and headed back to the bar, shoving your items into the bag. Maze had come around the other side, and stared at her phone as she dumped ingredients into a blender. Before you could speak, she turned it on, stared at the chocolate brown concoction inside. Lucifer joined you at the bar to watch Maze stop the blender, pour the mixture into a tall glass, and drop it in front of you.

You arched an eyebrow. “What’s this?” you asked.

She shrugged. “A protein shake.” She looked at her phone. “This says its necessary for humans that work out, because like…muscle things, or whatever.” She looked back up at you. “I kicked your ass, you’re probably gonna be sore.” You tilted the glass towards you. “It’s chocolate,” Maze stated, “Don’t humans like chocolate?”

You sipped it. It was thick, and delicious, and so chocolatey you couldn’t taste the protein in it. You downed the shake without taking a break. It left a thin mustache of chocolate across your top lip. You sighed.

“Feel better?” Lucifer asked. You nodded slowly. “So, why did you leave school again?”

Maze whispered something you couldn’t hear as you turned to him ever so slowly. “Really?”

“Well, yes!” Lucifer adjusted his cufflink again. “I assumed you would continue during your employment here!”

You took a deep, slow inhale through your nose. Exhaled. Slid the glass towards Maze with a soft thank you, and went off:

“First of all, how am I supposed to do ANYTHING in my private life when I’m supposed to be at your beck and call twenty-four seven? Why do you think I demanded to have Monday and Tuesday off? Hm?” you shouted. Lucifer started to open his mouth. “That was rhetorical, you dingus. Secondly—” You snatched your bag off the bar to emphasis your words, “Secondly, I was failing. And it’s only for the semester.”

“What, how are you failing?” Lucifer asked. He tutted as you started to walk away, grabbing your arm and turning you back towards the bar. “No, no, no, sit. Explain.” He waved his hands. “Tell me everything!”

“It’s stupid, Lucifer—in fact, it’s already done, I talked to everyone I needed to this morning—”

“No, no, no!!” he protested again. He patted the bar. “First, you tell me what happened! And then we’ll figure out why.” He nodded, and turned to you with a satisfied look. “First rule of Detective School.”

You shook your head, but settled onto the stool he had perched you on, bag dangling from your fingers. “They just told me that my work wasn’t up to par,” you said. You shrugged. “That was it. I mean…it’s the same caliber of work I’ve been doing, better even, and I can’t…” You sighed and dropped your bag to cover your face.

When you looked back up, Maze and Lucifer were exchanging glances. The latter turned his attention back to you, a frown knitting his brow together. “What did you do in school, if I may ask?” he pondered.

“A little of everything?” you sighed. “I uh, I hadn’t really picked a major, but I had enough credits for, like…English, Criminal Justice, uh…a minor or two—”

“Why on Earth would you take so many classes, did you want to kill yourself?” he cut in.

You shrugged. “I have a plethora of unmedicated, and undiagnosed, mental illnesses that I tried to drown out with topics that I highly enjoyed,” you answered.

Maze knocked her knuckles against the bar. Lucifer hummed. “Right, so, we need to introduce you to Linda later, but please,” he shifted in his seat, “Continue.”

Your mouth tightened into an o of confusion as you stared at him. “What do you mean send me to…Linda?”

“Oh, well, Linda is this wonderful therapist I’ve been seeing while here on Earth, and if you say you have these mental illnesses – hold on, is that what you meant before by ‘brain thing’?”

“….Maybe. But that also wasn’t the point of this conversation,” you prompted. But you frowned. Pouted. Looked up at Lucifer. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He straightened his coat as he cleared his throat, tilting his head just a tad. “Oh, well, you’re quite welcome.”

“The school,” Maze cut in loudly.

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Yeah, uh…” You swallowed. “They just said my work wasn’t cutting it. All of them.” You frowned. “I just don’t understand, my work was….amazing. I mean, I had a ton of shorts stories for Creative Writing that my professor wanted to publish them? And my Criminology professor was going to write me a letter of recommendation for the police academy, so…” You sighed and stared at your hands. “This was just last semester, so I don’t know how things changed.”

Lucifer hummed. When you looked up, he was staring towards the ground in contemplation. “Interesting,” he murmured.

You shrugged, and jumped off the stool, scooping your bag up. “It’s life, actually.” You heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna go up to my apartment and shower and…probably eat ice cream for the rest of the day.”

“Nonsense!” Lucifer stood and buttoned his blazer. “Well, besides the shower—do you want company?”

“Lucifer.”

He smiled. “Knee jerk reaction,” his eyebrows moved up and down as his smile grew. “But don’t just brush this off! Alright? Look, I will personally look into this little matter for you. A favor, if you will.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor,” you stated as you walked up the stairs.

Lucifer slid his hands into his pockets. His coin sat at the bottom, heavy, and smooth. He turned it over in his fingers with a frown. “Favors are done in good faith,” he commented absently. You rolled your eyes as you punched the button for your floor. As you disappeared behind the elevator doors, Lucifer pulled the coin from his pocket. The details were flat, smooth. The raised brushed gold pentagram that scarred your hand was now nothing more than a fanciful paint job that had chipped to reveal the silver beneath it. Lucifer set it on the bar and scratched at it with his nail until it all flaked away.

It wasn’t even a coin, just a single flattened metal disk. Lucifer scoffed as he held it up between his fingers. “That’s interesting,” he murmured.

Maze leaned into the space in front of him. “What happened to the Pentecostal coin?” she asked.

“I don’t think it was one at all,” he breathed. He released it, and spun it in the space between his fingers. One side was beautiful detailed, the other scratched away and plain. His eyes widened and he smiled. “Oh, this is interesting.”

[rosesforshego]

𝓘𝓯 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓜𝔂 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7: ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢꜱ

August 28th, 2002 6:30 am.

The fabric of his cotton button-up folded around the curvature of his elbow that rested upon his desk. Pen in hand, he rearranged his day planner to accommodate a pop-up meeting that sprang upon him only five minutes prior. His frown deepened, increasing the intensity of the wrinkles that hung around the corners of his mouth, as the permanent ink scratched out the preparation of his dinner that he was going to start as soon as the shrill bell rang at 2:30 pm. His sigh, long and slow, audibly left his nose as his cheek sunk further into the palm of his hand. Looked like he would have to settle for something small, and easy to make, for his lonesome meal.

It’s for the best, he thought. After all, he had lesson plans to catch up on, and a report to write for his superiors, so he shouldn’t spend time preparing a formal dinner for the one person who sat at his kitchen table—himself.

Drew pushed the frame of his glasses until it settled between his eyes, straightening his vision before the lenses fell from his nose entirely. He was not particularly happy when he received the news of this “emergency” meeting yesterday afternoon, and he was nearly furious when he was instructed to conduct a “team-bonding” exercise for the science department ASAP. He would have to admit, it was a rocky start to the school year—the clique culture that controlled the faculty was as present as ever, despite administration’s attempts to stop its formation over the summer—but, was it his responsibility to wrangle these adults and lecture them on how to be adults? Treating others with respect and kindness was a lesson that was taught in Kindergarten. He thought by the time his colleagues were old enough to return the favor, they’d at least remember this important lesson. Alas, he had put too much of his faith in the faculty, yet again, and it was his job to clean up their mess.

Sometimes he wondered why he accepted this “department head” position. It seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.

Besides this babysitting gig, he was tasked with orchestrating this afternoon’s gathering like a poorly-trained conductor in front of a group of ill-prepared musicians—but that seemed to be the theme of every department meeting for Dr. Lipsky. He and his colleagues knew that little direction equated to little progress, but no matter how many times the science department had voiced their concerns over faculty and students, their meek solutions were lost in the ether, never to be discussed by their boss—the Principal—ever again.

His gaze remained transfixed upon the daily planner in front of him as the vague image of his colleague’s solemn faces flashed before him. After years of poor treatment, he wondered why they still worked at Middleton High.

They deserved better.

The door to the lab shuffled against the floor, displacing a thick layer of dust that accumulated upon the tile. Behind the frame stood the slender stature of Miss Goodwin, carrying two freshly-brewed cups of coffee. Startled by his unsuspecting presence, she nearly receded into the hallway, but instead of giving in to her insecurities and subsequent embarrassment, she confidently stepped into the dimly-lit room, illuminated by the dawn’s rays.

“G’ mornin’, Drew.”

“Good morning, Sheila.”

She closed the door behind her, pressing her sole against the slab, maintaining her balance as she slowly moved closer to him. Drew watched her, in awe, confused and intrigued by the way she carried herself on top of the thin heels of her shoes. He always found fascination in the ability to remain balanced upon such thin plastic and, while Sheila crossed the room with a bit of elegance in each step, he found himself with a lack of understanding for such a feat, yet maintained his sense of child-like wonder.

Sheila placed the coffee in front of him, dissuading his roaming eyes from staring at her grace. Not like she particularly minded, nor noticed. The cup rested within the perfect ring that was created by the coffee that sat on his desk the day before. She cocked her head at the sight, a little perplexed and amused that Drew didn’t wipe away the ring. She thought that such a small marking would have driven him insane.

Maybe she assumed wrong.

She smiled, her teeth peeking out from being her blackened lips in an endearing way that Drew could get used to. However, her sly ploy to distract him was not successful as his eyes landed upon the gloved hand that subtly retreated from the cup, carrying within her palm a crumpled, yellow piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

Her sweet smile faltered.

“What’s what?”

His brows lowered, along with the melody in his voice, “The paper in your hand.”

She grew anxious at the twang of accusation within his tone as her hand deposited the paper within the pocket of her blazer.

She lied through her grinning teeth, “Receipt.”

His gaze bore holes into her fake demeanor, which nearly made her forehead glisten with sweat. Bull, he thought. What kind of receipt was printed on yellow paper?

“Well,” his legs swayed, turning his chair from side-to-side, bringing his idle body with it as he chewed on his words. Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back and that was the principle he lived by.

“Feel free to throw it away in my trash.”

He gestured to the bin beside his desk.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” she deflected, nearly immediately, at his intriguing proposition. Drew sat up, his back pressed into the chair as he watched her free hand wave his words away. She had something to hid, he was sure of it. Just, what? He needed to know.

Quickly, without weighing the consequences, she continued to spin her web of lies as she attempted to add a sort of justification to her statement, “I need it for reimbursement purposes.”

Reimbursement? For what?

Enough beating around the bush; it was time for the direct approach, “What do you mean—"

“So, Doc,” she slid her leg onto his desk, closing the artificial gap between them with such abrupt energy that she nearly split her coffee onto her gloves.

Strange, he mused, eyeing the deep, burgundy that encased her hands. The morning was not chilly. Why did she choose to wear gloves?

The desk creaked beneath her frame, accommodating her weight as she shifted into a more comfortable position. Her words, abrasive against the calm that encapsulated the room, pulled him away from his curiosity, “How’s your morning?”

Truthfully, he was rather appalled that she had decided to make his desk her new seat, but he did nothing to stop her.

A sliver of raven hair fell from behind her ear and Drew resisted the urge to brush it back into place—not like the kind gesture would have eased her frazzled mind. After her successful break-in the previous morning, Sheila had not expected to find Drew slouched behind his desk. She hoped that her sly caper would be just as successful—if not more since she took his coffee suggestions to heart—but, as she felt the heat of her embarrassment rise to her flushed cheeks, there was nothing she could do. Though, she was a little upset that she would have to trash the note she wanted to leave for him. Not in his trash, though.

Maybe it was for the best.

Drew’s raging mind remained fixated on her hunched stature. The confidence that she had entered the room with dissipated behind the worry in her eyes. He may not have known her for long, but if he knew a thing or two about human behavior, he would have to guess that she was stressed—possibly due to whatever secrets she hung over his head. He hoped that Sheila, of all colleagues, could confide in him, but it was only Day 3 of their budding friendship. Maybe he was asking for too much too soon.

The corner of her mouth quivered nervously as her eyes searched his, waiting for his absent reply. Her words pierced the conversation in a way that was rather odd for the two of them, then hung in the space between them as Drew remained silent on the matter. She smiled, meekly, attempting to quell the quiver, but to no avail, as she hoped that he’d drop the subject and free her from her entanglement within the web she spun that would make even the most dignified of spiders proud.

So, drop it he did.

He leaned further into his chair—opening his crossed arms in a comfortable, calming gesture to ease her tension, but he maintained his watchful eye, unsure of where the conversation would lead, nor how his colleague would react.

Miss Sheila Goodwin was a book he’d have to pry open with his bare hands if he wanted to know her secrets. She wasn’t going to simply give them to him, despite his charms.

“Fine,” he replied. His chair squeaked under his weight.

“Just fine?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at his response. The quiver in her lip subsided.

“Drew, I’m surprised. You’re usually more elaborate than that.”

Usually? She’d only known the man for three days. Yet, she possessed the uncanny ability to analyze his behavioral patterns—his strange, wacky, slightly familiar with an aura of comfort patterns. It was something she’d like to explore.

“Well, I had a meeting with the department heads this morning,” he continued, obliging to her subtle request, “and I—”

“Wait,” she interrupted, her curiosity clutching her rational mind, “The department heads? Why did you need to meet with them?”

A short snort escaped Drew’s nose as he crossed his arms, closing the invite he had extended towards her, “I’m the head of the science department.”

Oh.

A pale pink broke through the green tint of her skin. Monday may have been her first day as a full-timer, but she had her substitute experience to fall back upon, and she was rather appalled at herself for not knowing this important bit of information. She knew who held the reins over the other departments, but not for science.

It was just her dumb luck that Drew Lipsky had to be the head of the science department—and she just had to showcase her ignorance in front of him.

How embarrassing.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry,” Drew waved his hand, dismissing her apology, “You’re new. I’ll give you a pass on this one.”

Truthfully, he would’ve given her a pass anyway—on anything. She was nice to him, treated him with kindness and respect that he had craved for years. Why be pressed over a silly matter?

She subtly rolled her eyes, which prompted a cheeky smirk from her colleague.

“Thanks.”

With a gentle push, she gracefully leaped from the desk. Her heels pressed upon the hard floor with a satisfying clack that rang within Drew’s ears. He watched her brush the accumulated wrinkles from the cloth of her slacks and, without saying a word, departed from his workspace.

Drew lurched forward, stretching his hand towards her receding frame, but stopped his movement before he could grasp her arm.

Damnit. Leave it to Drew to screw up practically every good thing that graced his miserable, lonely life.

He retracted his hand and leaned back into his chair, watching her stiff stature fade into the greying light. James had always warned him that his sarcastic personality was a niche sense of humor. His mother had always told him that he shouldn’t utilize commentary in the form of jest. He always knew that his awkward, geeky, socially inept personality would drive others away, but he had hoped that this time things would be different. That they’d click. That she’d understand his sarcastic wit and appreciate the sense of humor that had tormented him throughout his formative years. It was never his intention to offend her and, if he did, he was deeply apologetic about it, but for Sheila to simply state her thanks, then saunter away without a word pierced his beating heart.

When he first found her, sprawled upon the mucky floor, prying gum away from its hold on the tile, a warmth grew within his chest. She and her infectious personality was a gateway to a plethora of opportunities to find friendship within another—someone outside of his little group of scientists who understood the hardships of teaching; someone who’d laugh with him, talk with him, support him through his successes and his failures. He desired for someone different, who could release him from the strong confines of his mundane routine. A colleague who could provide a sense of fulfillment in his dull life.

Was that too much to ask?

She zeroed in on the port that led to the vacant hall outside of his classroom, but she didn’t pass through it. Instead, she turned to the long lab table that sat beside the door and snatched a chair from underneath it.

Sheila dragged the padded, metal legs across the tile towards Drew’s desk, then haphazardly spun the chair and straddled the plastic seat. The back of the chair faced the scientist in an informal, comfortable manner as she rested her elbow on the metal—her balled fist held her chin while the other lazily draped over the chair. A slight grin crept upon her features as her stature invited Drew into the easy-going, laid-back atmosphere her informal stature created.

“So, what happened?” she asked, “Tell me more.”

Drew blinked away the uncertainty that pooled within his eyes. For a brief moment, Sheila recognized a subtle perplexed look etched into the crease between his eyebrows, but it quickly faded once he found the courage to compose himself.

“Well,” he brought a finger to his thin lips, tapping them as his eyes trailed to the brown stain on the white ceiling, “this year has been off to an. . . interesting start.”

She shifted in her seat—the uneven legs rattling against the tile, “You’re tellin’ me.”

His gaze met hers for a brief moment of understanding. Her smile softened the corners of her eyes, but her emerald irises displayed a similar sort of uncertainty, laced with sadness and frustration, that reflected within Drew’s.

The job never got easier and he didn’t have the heart to tell her.

“Yeah,” a small chuckle escaped with his response and faded into the thick atmosphere, “you’re not the only one who had a rough first day if that’s any consolation.”

“Somewhat,” she admitted. It was nice to know that she wasn’t the only person left to suffer in the harsh elements that came with the high school, but the curve of Drew’s frowning lips indicated that there was an issue that ran deeper than new teacher initiation day.

Drew broke eye contract with Sheila, his gaze wandering to the posters the clung to his classroom walls. His lips formed a thin line to counteract the growing frown from settling into the creases that formed deep folds around his face. He was positive that she’d hear about the events that were recounted in the early morning meeting, but, after the horrifying experience she called her first day, he fought against the urge to gossip, despite the intense curiosity that laid within her, begging for him to keep her in the loop that she was shoved out of.

Sheila placed a gentle hand on his outstretched forearm. The simple gesture immediately forced his eyes to find hers, but they still held a vacant expression as his mind remained lost within his thoughts. Bothered by his distant stature, and his stand-offish gaze that passed through her, she leaned closer to his stiff body that swayed, slightly, in the chair.

“Everything alright?”

“Huh?” he shook his head, her voice yanked him from the confines of his head.

The look of concern that lined her clenched jaw startled him, yet sent shockwaves of a calming sensation that eased his mind. It was an open invitation for him to confide in her.

It was everything he could’ve wanted.

“Oh, yeah,” he regained his composure, removing his arm from Sheila’s touch, “the meeting went well. I’m just not looking forward to hosting one later this afternoon.”

“With the science department?”

“Yeah,” he eyed her as a soft gleam reflected in the beautiful blue that captured Sheila’s attention, “I was hoping to go home early. Maybe take a nap. . .”

“You’re already that tired?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as a hint of a mischievous, playful spirit rose within her banter.

“I only wake up this early if I have to,” he retorted.

Lately, it seemed as if he could never get enough rest. Waking up before the sun didn’t help.

“Not an early riser, I see,” she remarked, crossing her arms upon the back of her chair.

“I thought you knew,” he said, gesturing to the coffee that sat, untouched, on his desk. Its warm steam continued to seep through the cover, dissipating into the morning air. It invited Drew to take a sip—to wake his drowsy, clouded mind—but he remained immobile, too attentive to the conversation, and Sheila’s cheeky responses, to move.

“I made a guess,” she admitted, “It was nearly a fifty-fifty shot since I knew next-to-nothing about you.”

“You knew I liked coffee, didn’t you?”

She laughed—its melody allowed the light from the new, morning sun to enter his welcoming gaze, “No.”

“Lucky guess?”

“You could say that,” Sheila remarked as she stood from her chair, snatching her coffee that sat beside Drew’s upon her departure, “Hopefully I made it right this time.”

“Not like you made it wrong last time,” Drew mumbled, leaning forward to grab his cup.

The liquid behind the Styrofoam warmed his cold hand. He hadn’t meant for Sheila to hear, but in close quarters, it was difficult to mumble anything without her sensitive ears grasping onto every word. She was quick and keen—blessed with a youthful spirit; a witty personality that he’d have to learn how to keep up with if he wanted to maintain the friendship that bloomed between them.

“Yeah, well,” she pushed the chair back towards the lab table, its legs scraping against the floor as it nestled into the nook beneath the chemically-stained surface, “I tried to follow your instructions, but you didn’t give me any.”

Drew brought the coffee to his lips. The bitterness that coated his tongue the day before was replaced with a rich, creamy taste that brought chills to his ample skin. He hummed into his cup, delighted by the taste, indulging for a moment in the delicious caffeine that would, without a doubt, aid him through the long day ahead.

“It’s perfect,” he remarked, reluctantly pulling the cup away as his gaze trailed towards his colleague who was making her way out the door.

“Hey,” he sat up in his chair as she turned her head in his direction, “where’d you get this?”

She smiled, her irises beaming in the sunlight, “I made it just for you.”

With that, she left—the click of her heels echoing in the empty hallway.

The corner of his lip curved into a smile but immediately faltered as he set down his coffee.

If she made it, then what was the paper for?

Alarmed, he abruptly rose from his seat and followed the draft that flowed out the door in her wake, all the way calling her name, asking questions that demanded answers, as child-like laughter beckoned Drew to Classroom 121. 

[seras11021]

Dark Bellow Ch.3 Phantom

(12:30PM Saturday 5/13/2443)

“06 Move up” a large man wearing a black vest and cargo pans holding a rifle approaches a large city wall he taps his earpiece “06 in place” then another voice come thought “05 In place” a large explosion is heard in the distance “06 Birching” the man jumps away from the wall and a small explosion happens behind him. the wall has a small hole only enough for him to fit thought, he walks in rifle raised looks left then right then runs to a nearby alley.

(10:12 AM Monday Brake 5/13/2443)

I wake up on the floor next to my bed I had completely forgotten that she was here.

(the night before) “Also we have the next 2 weeks off so ill be spending that time here with you!”. “so all the time?” I ask in a worried fashioned “yes” she says in the same cheerfully tone, “where are you going to sleep” I say already knowing what she’s going to say. “that's simple I can just sleep in your room” she says while scratching her chin, “why not the couch or my dads room” I suggest. Suddenly (12 no good) she looks at me with her silver eyes and states with a joyful smile” its to far from you”. Something about this statement worries me. we go up to my room I bring out the futon up until 3 years ago I could never imagine something like this I look at her point at the futon and say “there” I then lay down in my bed I close my eyes and lay there, I feel eyes on me ,then the blanket moves a tiny bit, then she’s in the bed I look over my shoulder there she is peering back at me,( but her eyes look red?).I jump out of my bed and lay on the futon she doesn't move.

(current time) I get off the floor she’s till asleep I walk to the door as quietly as I can I open the door and close it behind me “ so much for knowing my every move“ I use the bathroom then head down the stares and start cooking half-way thought cooking I hear a ruckus up stares “she’s awake fun” she runs down the stares panicked looks at me and yells “ why didn’t you wake me up!”. I gave her a little smile and replied food? 

(10:43 AM Monday Brake 5/13/2443)

After a few angry glances from her, I then ask the million gold coin question “so who sent you to come stay with me? ”she then stops eating  (17 GOOD) she looks up at me and say’s “nobody” with a calm face I then say “WHAT?” she looks up at me and says “I was never ordered to come and stay with you, just to watch you but I took it a pawn my self to do so” she stated the last part with to much pride. After an hour of talking in the living room, I come to a huge realization she is scary but stupid.

(1:12 PM Monday Brake 5/13/2443)

“Ok I'm going out for a walk “ I get up and approach the door, as I get to the door it swings open she jumps up and gets in a fighting pose “it look kind of funny now that I look back on it “the door is wide open in front of me and in walks in the girl from the roof.

[timehasbeenbusy]

17 & 18 November 1828

Monday 17 November 1828

5¾

11 25/60

From 6 40/60 to 8 read from page 30 – 42 of the Brief History of Christ Hospital and wrote the whole of the above today – Breakfast at 8 20/60 – off to Halifax at 8 50/60 down the old bank to Mr Briggs – said I had seen Holt, and what I had said to him – Mr Briggs thought I had better give away the coals - getting them would be expensive – must have an engine – did not think they would pay – giving them away would not, said it was my present mind to get them at all rates – Mr Briggs said he would see Holt, and go with him to plan the ground, Mr Briggs shewed me an oak-root round table made at Brighhouse priced £20 – one not so handsome sold to Mr Stead for £25 - About 20 minutes there – then sat 25 minutes with Mrs Veitch (poorly in a bad cold), then at 9 ¾ got to Savile hill –the breakfast things not removed Mrs and 2 Miss Wilcocks – Miss Pickford much better for the baths of St Gervais, to spend the winter at Roma – to write there poste restante – Mrs Wilcocks going to write to her today – begged a little of her paper and wrote ⅓ of the first page small and close, hoping my letter to Genoa was received, giving my address in Paris – observing she could be complacent in writing full letters, all crossed, as I had just seen, to Mrs Wilcocks - to write to me before expecting to hear of or from me again – uncertain as to my stay here, but would not exceed 10 days or a fortnight – asked what beauties she most admired and what thought of this place and that – should not at this moment say of what use her information might be to me – thought that by hook and by crook, I should see her before the twelvemonth’s end –

 ½ hour at Savile hill –then went to Throps – not at home – could learn nothing – my job was but a small one – would think about it – Throp most likely to be at home between 12 and 2 – returned along the canal – the new lodge to Stonyroyde, nearly roofed gable-end, labells windows, little building expensively hewed – got home up the old bank at 12 – Letter from Mariana Scarbro’on my desk – 3 hurried pages 2½ pm yesterday, ‘great change – cannot last much longer – ‘the struggles are dreadfully severe, and it is indeed a trying scene to us all’ – Mariana sat up on Friday night, but says she bore it well – ‘as to myself, have no fears on my account – I am honestly and in truth the best of the set’ would ‘like me to write something more than a mere statement that life was no more ….to appear in the York paper ……..’some little tribute to his merits would be gratifying to us all’ will write tomorrow (ie today) if any thing happens – if not on Tuesday (ie tomorrow) – offers to bring my father cod, sounds as she passes through – Had just begun to write when (at 12 20/60) Miss Hudson of Hipperholme called for ½ an hour – going to send off a parcel from Whitleys tomorrow by the van in 3 or 4 days to Miss MacLean if I had any letter to send Whitley would enclose it in time tomorrow afternoon – said I was much obliged etc etc but a very bad correspondent abomined letter-writing only said what I had to say – did not believe I could make up my mind to write – thought I, no, I wont send in her parcel, I do not understand all this, they shall have it to themselves  Miss Hudson Miss Maclean had asked many questions about the place – it was not very beautiful country and she had said so – I abused the house – said much wanted doing at it – it was a doghole of a place as I always told people – I certainly never said much in its favour  -

Came upstairs again at 12 50/60 – from 1 to 3, wrote 3 pages to Mariana including the following ‘as to the request that I should write something more than a common obituary notice, be it remembered Mary, that I am not an advocate  for long paragraphs of this kind in newspapers, and, above all, that it is Steph, not I who can do this best – when I am serious, you know my repugnance to speak or write strongly in praise or dispraise – all that I need add is, that, were my own father in the circumstances of yours, and I heard I persuaded myself to write any thing more than a mere ‘announcement of the death, it would probably be something like the following’ –

‘Died on ------- at his house in Scarborough, in the ----- year of his age, after a long and ‘severe illness, William Belcombe Esquire, ---- years a resident physician in this city ‘where his talent soon established him at the head of his profession, where by his mild ‘and gentlemany manners, and active and useful benevolence, he was soon and lastingly endeared to all who knew him well – He was eminently successful in his practice which ‘was very extensive  ‘to the last of his professional career, he devoted a considerable ‘portion of every day to his numerous poor and‘gratis patients; and it does not fall to the ‘lot of every one to be more sincerely lamented, or to leave behind him a good name ‘better deserved – But Mary, do you not think, it would be best for Steph to draw up a ‘proper memoir to be inserted in the Genteman’s Magazine?  To do this, no-one is better fitted than your brother – As a professional man, he might give a brief and comprehensive sketch which, in doing credit to his father, might reflect some credit upon himself – your father’s practice which laid the foundation-stone ‘of his reputation in York, was, at that time new in England?  His services in the navy, experience in the ‘West Indies, studies and intimacies with the man of letters on the continent, mild treatment of insanity cases,‘not to forget (if thought proper) descent from an old and respectable Lancashire family, and his marriage with‘whom, - might, if well handled by his son, do some dutiful honour, and some practical good – give‘my best regards to Steph, and tell him so – Then write the following to Mr Birmingham ‘Shibden hall Monday 17 November‘1828 – Sir – Being domiciliated in Paris, I wish to take over with me, on my return, a small box of plate viz ‘1 tea-pot, a couple of dozen folks, dozen spoons, cream jug and sugar, - basin, snuffers and tray, and a couple of ‘waiters – I know, some particular permit is required for this from the French chef de douanes – I shall be much obliged to‘you to take the earliest opportunity of giving me all necessary information on this subject, direct to Mrs Lister,‘Shibden hall, Halifax, Yorkshire – on my arrival at Dover, I will pay you any expense that may have been ‘incurred on my account – I am, Sir etc etc A Lister’ – all which took me till 5 – then skimming over again Cronhelms Book-keeping – dressed – dined at 6 25/60 – at 7 sent off to the post by John, my letter to Mariana ‘Doctor Belcombe’s Scarborough’ and to Mr John Birmingham, Commissioner, Old Ship Hotel, Dover, Post paid’  then Sat talking till after 9 – wrote the last 3 lines – went up to bed ay 10 5/60 – very fine day not so damp and thick as these last few days – rather inclined to be a little frosty – reading the rules in Hutton’s Book-keeping, till 10 ¾

Tuesday 18 November 1828

5 50/60

11 10/60

Read the 1st 45 lines Saturday 2  I went out at 7½ - went to Cowgate wood – took the wallers from walling and stayed there to right the set started against the wood in Pearson’s great brow – stayed with them and did not get home till 10¼ - sent John to make holes for planting in Pump Lane – find on my desk letter from Mariana Scarbro’, 11 hurried lines dated yesterday 17th instant ‘at 5 minutes before 1 today my precious father breathed his last without a groan, tho’ from 11 yesterday to the same hour at night his sufferings were very severe, after that he became calm and composed until 5 this morning, when difficulty of breathing returned and continued till within a few minutes of his death - Steph was with us - my mother at this minute bears ‘up tolerably, and we all do our best – I will write again in a day or 2 – God bless you – always yours Mariana’ –Will she get my letter of yesterday today? What will she think of what I wrote to announce Dr Belcombe’s death? It will seem cold, praiseless, spiritless, heartless – how different our feelings!  Her expression precious father –shocks me – dear father – or simply father - It smites me best to think of those I love when gone as if they were still here – I never yet could say my poor uncle and Mr Sunderland’s exclamation on first seeing him a corpse ‘poor thing!’ shocked me more than I could describe -  Letter also from Isabella Norcliffe, Langton, they had heard a bad account of Dr Belcombe’ think it will be a happy release but I dread the effect it will produce upon Mariana, whose nerves are little able to bear such a shock – I fear there is no chance of our meeting at Lawton, as of course she will not leave Scarbro’ just at present’ – they leave Langton for Bath on the 2nd of December -

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 36

The call came four weeks into the Skull Island shoot, just prior to Tom’s short Thanksgiving break.

It was Monday, and I was out on the deck of the waterfront cottage we’d rented at the Paradise Bay Resort, about six miles or so from Kualoa Ranch. They’d been filming there in addition to other locations in the Waikane Valley, and though Legendary provided housing, Tom spent as many nights and weekends with me as possible. I’d passed on meeting any of the cast or team so far, wanting to allow him to work as he was accustomed, as well as preventing myself from interfering and/or becoming a distraction. That, of course, meant super late nights and group activities on some weekends, but I was so buried with Prosper work, Manageall development, fulfilling my maid of honor duties for Simon and starting to plan my own wedding that any time we spent apart went by incredibly quickly.

I reached for my phone where it rested to the left of my laptop and tablet, smiling when I unlocked it and saw the picture of Tom I’d chosen, him laughing, fresh out of the shower, wearing only a towel as he lunged toward me.

“Wow, Maude. Such professionalism.”

The cast, director and producers were scheduled for a lunch meeting today wherein they’d be discussing schedule and script changes, so I hadn’t expected him to call at all, though he normally did when they broke for lunch on set. My phone time read 3:17 PM as I tapped the answer button.

“Hey, you…how was the meeting?”

Silence greeted me, followed by the sound of a woman clearing her throat, then speaking.

“Maude?”

My brain raced through a hundred scenarios as to why a woman would be calling me from his phone, and I not only had to force myself to answer, but it took every ounce of rationality I possessed to not flip the fuck out.

“Yes…who’s this?”

“It’s Brie, Maude…I’m sorry to bother you, and oh god it’s totally weird that I’m calling from Tom’s phone, I know, but I was afraid if I used my own you wouldn’t pick up and I didn’t want to leave a message and risk not hearing from you right away…”

As I realized it was his co-star, a coldness began to work its way from my chest to my extremities. “Did something happen? Is he all right? Where is he?”

“We’re at the house, cast housing. He’s not hurt, sorry, damn, I knew I’d scare the heck out of you no matter how I tried to explain it…anyway, we had lunch at a restaurant and, well, as it turns out the special was grilled chicken Caesar salad and like three-quarters of us had it and whoever ate it now has food poisoning. There’s a doctor coming in just to check on everyone, and Tom’s in pretty bad shape and you’re close by so I figured you might want to come here because there’s no way he can travel right now. He didn’t want anyone to call you but…”

Able to breathe again, I silently thanked the universe for keeping him at least relatively safe. Food poisoning. Okay. I could handle that. Probably. “Of course he didn’t. Brie, thank you, so much. Do you know the address of the house? I have no clue where it is, but I’m guessing I can be there in like twenty minutes or so.”

She gave me the details, and I mapped the route on my phone straight away, then set to packing up some spare clothing for both of us, as well as some water, a twelve pack of Coke, and some straws. I had no idea what to expect, as I’d managed to live on the planet for nearly four decades without experiencing the true horror of food borne illness, other than some occasional diarrhea. Which, frankly, was fucking bad enough. But I’d had the stomach flu enough times to know that what he was currently enduring in all likelihood sucked giant monkey balls. Kong-sized, even.

Traffic was light, which both surprised me and made me realize that I didn’t leave the cottage very often because driving the Jeep was, like, challenging. It was yet another Wrangler, but this time bright yellow. Which I didn’t care for, but the discount at the rental company was awesome and that was all they’d had left. I was, of course, too lazy to check back and change it out for another one…and also aware that such a thing was just shy of totally petty.

As I pulled into the driveway I whistled…it was a huge, beautiful, modern house with SO many windows, and like the beach rental we’d stayed in during the summer, I could see clear through to the ocean. I parked off to the side as to not block anyone in, then got out, grabbed my bag and headed for the door. An adorable woman with dirty blonde hair flung it open, waving.

“Hi, Maude. That was fast. I’m so glad you came…he’s a mess. And so is everyone else. Just him and four other guys here, Tom has his own suite.” She smiled and held out her hand. “So happy to finally meet you, though I’m sorry it’s under such…erm, unpleasant circumstances.”

I accepted her hand shook it briefly. “Happy to meet you too, and thanks again for reaching out.”

“Not a problem. Follow me, I’ll take you to his room.”

The faint scent of vomit assaulted my nostrils as we walked across the tilted open-concept living and kitchen area, then up a flight of steps to our left, the planks made of native wood, the rest stainless steel and glass. She knocked on the first white door to our right, and when there was no answer she turned to me, whispering.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom…you should probably just go on inside.”

Left brow rising, I whispered as well. “Does he know I’m coming?”

She shook her head, smiling timidly. “No. Sorry. I didn’t…”

I nodded, right hand up, palm extended toward her. “I understand. Totally cool. Far better that I just appear so he doesn’t waste his energy arguing.”

“Yeah, that’s how I felt about it. Oh, his phone…” She pulled it out of her back pocket and passed it to me. “I snagged it last time I knocked and got no answer. Man, I feel really bad for all of them…and I’m really, really glad I had a vegan wrap. Good luck, Maude. I’m going to head out as soon as the doctor gets here, which should be soon. I hope. The smell is making me feel…not so good.”

“It’s…pungent, that’s for sure. Thanks again for calling me, Brie.”

“You’re very welcome.” She gave me a quick squeeze, then headed back downstairs as I turned the knob and opened the door to Tom’s room. The floors were white tile, the walls a pale blue, with a gorgeous view of the ocean out the floor to ceiling windows…and it smelled like I’d stepped into a parmesan cheese factory, which is what puke had always smelled like to me. Mixed in for fun was and acrid sweat and other unmentionables. The furniture was native wood, and the light-blue bedding was all askew…with no sign of Tom. To the right of the bed was another door, and as I approached I heard retching.

For several minutes, I remained silent, waiting for a break in his torment, and when it finally came I knocked gently and spoke his name.

“Tom?”

A groan, followed by another retch, then a reply. His voice was raspy, weak, and I immediately wanted to barge in to…to do…something, anything.

“Maude? Is that…is that you? Or am I hallucinating? Oh god. Somebody make it stop.” More retching, and I swung the door inward. He was completely naked on the bowl with a small bucket, most likely the bathroom garbage can, resting on his knees. His face was ashen, hair flattened with sweat, and the dark circles under his eyes made me flinch when he looked up at me. I walked to his side, placing the back of my hand on his forehead…he was blazing hot, and shivering wildly. His hand reached up, shakily grabbing my wrist. “Is it you? Are you real?”

Nodding, I bent to kiss his forehead. “It’s me. I’m real. What can I do to help you, babe?”

His teeth had begun to chatter. “I…I don’t know…every time I go back to the bed, I have to get up again and I’m so tired but I can’t sleep and I’m sorry that you’re seeing me like this and that you had to come here…” A tear ran down his left cheek and I brushed it away with my thumb.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, there is no other place I would rather be right now. Okay, that might not be entirely truthful. How about there’s no one I’d rather be WITH…”

He smiled wanly, then retched again, eyes glassy when he finished and turned them up to me. “Sorry. I’m just dry heaving at this point…there’s nothing left to come out. Not at this end anyway. Can you…will you step out for a minute?”

I exited, closed the door behind me, and walked over to the windows to allow him as much privacy as possible, waiting until the flushing stopped before going back in. He’d put the bucket on the floor next to him, and was holding on to the sink vanity to his right, attempting to rise. I slipped one arm around his waist.

“Want to go lie down?” He nodded slowly. “Okay. Lean on me. Let’s get you there.”

Our height difference was an obstacle, but we managed to reach the bed without me letting him fall to the floor. He was so feeble it was frightening. I tucked him in, blankets up around his chin, then sat beside him on the mattress, legs crossed in front of me, knees touching his ribs, my sandals cast off onto the tile haphazardly.

Another tiny smile appeared on his so-very-pale face. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry you feel like…like…”

The smile widened. “Death?”

I took his hand in mine and began rubbing his wrist with my thumb. “That bad, eh?”

“Well, maybe more like wishing for death, I guess.” He reached across and placed his other hand on my bare knee. “How did you know to come?”

“Brie called me.”

He frowned. “I didn’t want anyone to call you.” The frown faded quickly. “But I’m very glad someone did.”

I smoothed back his hair. “Me too.” His eyelids fluttered. “Try and get some rest, babe. I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?”

“Oh. Kay.”

Twenty minutes later he woke up moaning and clutching his stomach, racing to the bathroom on his own, powered purely by adrenaline. I helped him back to bed once he’d finished, and every twenty minutes for the next two hours the cycle continued, leaving him more and more frustrated and exhausted. At around ten after six the doctor popped his head into the room after three short, sharp knocks. He was my height, chubby and bald, with dark framed glasses. After examining Tom thoroughly, his official diagnosis was indeed food poisoning, the likely culprit Staphylococcus aureus based on the time between ingestion and onset of symptoms. I was left with a 24/7 contact number, a six pack of adult Pedialyte, and a handout listing signs of dehydration. If any of said signs appeared, I was to take him to the nearest ER right away. The good news was that his symptoms would likely improve by morning, and introducing the Pedialyte whenever Tom expressed an interest was permissible since he was no longer vomiting. One teaspoon every fifteen minutes until he kept it down for at least an hour, then after that, it was fine to follow the instructions on the bottle. Nothing solid for at least another day, and then bland foods until the diarrhea ceased. I took a deep breath, hoping he’d just sail through, but still the worry threatened to overwhelm me and I knew I’d be obsessively checking him for dry mouth and heart palpitations. The sound of his voice pulled me back from the edge of an anxiety attack, and I put the pamphlet on the bed next to me as I felt his hand on my arm.

“Maude? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. How are you doing?” Deflect and divert. Go Maude.

“You went rather pale there. This isn’t contagious, is it? I thought I heard…”

I shook my head. “Yep. The doctor said the type of food poisoning you have isn’t contagious.”

“But what if he’s wrong about the type? I don’t…”

Taking his hand in mine, I brought it up to my lips and kissed it. “You should SO not be worrying about me. You shouldn’t be worrying about ANYTHING. Okay?”

He shifted toward me, groaning with the effort. “You’re worried.”

The man knew me entirely too well. I sighed. “Sorry. Yes. I’m worried, mainly about my ability to take care of you properly. I’ve never done anything like this before, other than maybe an after party make sure no one chokes and dies session. And never for anyone I actually, you know, cared about. I apologize in advance for sucking.”

A soft snort escaped him, and I knew there was a suggestive comment on the tip of his tongue, but he dozed off again prior to making it.

Four hours later the stomach cramps had gotten so bad he was no longer able to sleep at all, instead shivering next to me while curled into a fetal position while I rubbed his back lightly. That was followed by another bout of throwing up….this go round consisting of a yellowish substance that the internet told me was likely bile. Afterward, the cramping subsided significantly and he managed to sleep for an entire hour, during which I cleaned the bathroom. It was a challenge to say the least, as I all I had was toilet paper, antibacterial soap, hand sanitizer and some towels, but by the time he woke up every surface had been scoured and most offensive odors eradicated. It was my hope that doing so would help with the nausea, but, truthfully, I had no fucking clue if anything I was doing helped at all.  

He’d called my name, and I approached the bed anticipating another bathroom assistance mission. Instead, he pointed at the Pedialyte.

“I’m thirsty…may I have some of that, please?”

My head tilted to the right, seemingly of its own volition. “Do you need me to walk you to the bathroom first?”

“I don’t think so, no. But I am very, very thirsty.”

Perhaps a corner had been turned. I removed one of the bottles from the shrink wrap, then set it back down on the nightstand when realized I didn’t have a teaspoon.

“Okay. I need to find a teaspoon. The kitchen here’s fully equipped, right?” He nodded, and I kissed his forehead. “Be right back.”

I walked down the steps, turned around and headed for the kitchen. The cabinets were white with glass inserts, stainless hardware and quartz countertops. The silverware was in the top drawer of the island, and I grabbed two teaspoons and washed them off in the sink, just in case. As I reached the steps to return to Tom’s room, the eerie quiet of the house totally creeped me out and I half jogged to my destination. When I opened the door, there he was, sitting up, bottle to his lips and head tilted back as he took three huge gulps right in front of me.

“THOMAS. WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?”

His eyes widened as he lowered the bottle to chest height. “Drinking. Should I not be drinking? I was thirsty. I’m sorry. Is it going to start all over again now? I don’t think I can take any more. I don’t…” His lower lip began to tremble, and I ran over to the bed, gently taking the bottle from him and setting in on the nightstand once again, then wrapped my arms around him.

“Honey, honey…it’s okay. I’m sorry for being loud. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right here, you’re going to be fine. Please don’t cry.” Not only did I not want him to cry because it would make me feel like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the planet, I didn’t want it to happen because it could impact his hydration level.

He nestled his head in the crook of my neck, and I straddled him, keeping all my weight on my knees. His skin was still warm, but not as blazing hot as it had been earlier. I lifted him off me slowly, hands pushing on his shoulders, and was surprised by his hand suddenly touching my face.

“Maude…I…love you. Tired. Lie with me?”

“I love you too. I’m not sure you should lie flat, though…” I climbed off him, and as soon as I let go of his shoulders he began to slump backward. “Can you sit up just a little longer? I have an idea.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with his head in his hands. I figured if he remained upright there’d be less of a chance of him throwing up, which I was probably totally pulling out of my ass, but I was hopeful that some sort of instinct was responsible for my thought process. First I piled all the pillows near the wooden headboard on his side of the bed, then grabbed our phones from my pocket and set it on the nightstand. Lastly, I took my shorts off and positioned myself behind him, legs open, back against the pillows.

“Okay, all you need to is slide back. Can you do that?”

Instead, he turned himself to the side, legs flung over my right thigh with his ass centered between my own legs.  His right arm slipped around me and he again nestled his head in the crook of my neck, the side of his torso pressed up against my front, left hand resting on my right shoulder. As I began to embrace him, he pulled back and tugged at my shirt, his voice barely audible.

“Off. Skin.”

I removed it as requested, then wiggled out of my bra. He snuggled back into me, a small smile upon his lips. In that moment I was struck by the fragility of this life, how quickly things change, and how loving so deeply was both a blessing and a curse. A terror began to grip me as I realized that one of us would more than likely leave this earth before the other, and I just couldn’t imagine not wanting to die myself right then and there if I was the one left behind. He kissed my neck, and I reminded myself to try to be grateful for every moment. Every single one. All the time.

“Maude?”

I took a deep breath before replying, afraid I might burst into tears. “Yeah babe?”

“Sing to me?”

“Absolutely. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“A song.”

After running through my repertoire, I decided on “You’ve Got the Love”, the Florence + the Machine version. Doing the whole thing acapella was going to be interesting, and never before had I wished that a magical harp and band would appear out of thin air to rescue me. The song had religious undertones and was essentially about God, but in my head I always un-capitalized everything to make it, you know, NOT. I took a deep breath and began, lowering my normal volume considerably, singing as if it were a lullaby.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air I know I can count on you Sometimes I feel like saying, "lord, I just don't care." But you've got the love I need to see me through Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough And things go wrong no matter what I do Now and then it seems that life is just too much But you've got the love I need to see me through When food is gone you are my daily meal When friends are gone I know my saviour's love is real You know it's real You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love Time after time I think, "Oh, lord, what's the use?" Time after time I think it's just no good 'Cause sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose But you got the love I need to see me through. You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air 'Cause I know I can count on you Sometimes I feel like saying, "lord, I just don't care." But you've got the love I need to see me through

Midway through I felt his breathing change and his body relax, and sure enough, by the time I’d finished he was out cold. I placed a gentle kiss on his temple, then eased back into the pillows and stared at the room around me…I’d neglected to turn out the light, but there was no way I was disturbing him to rectify the situation. The contents paled in comparison to what I held in my arms, so I opted to gaze upon that instead. He was so peaceful in sleep, and the way he was curled up against me made him appear almost childlike, delicate and ethereal. I counted freckles, still one of my favorite pastimes, and it was exceedingly difficult to not trace them with my fingers. The worry reared its ugly head again, and I pushed it back by telling myself that he’d kept down liquids for at least a little while, and that he seemed to be resting comfortably. He stirred briefly, and I wondered if perhaps he was chilly in the air-conditioned room, so I used my right arm to reach the blankets and pull them over him. That seemed to do the trick, and I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I knew it was morning.

“Maude?” A hand on my shoulder. The sound of someone drinking and swallowing. My eyelids felt as if they were made of lead, and opening them seemed an almost insurmountable task. I squinted, waiting for my contacts to clear enough for me to actually see, and once they did there he was, face inches from mine, still paler than normal, but his eyes had light in them once again, despite the huge dark circles beneath. His rear end was still between my legs, but he was sitting fully upright, the bottle of Pedialyte in his right hand three quarters of the way gone. He smiled, that adorable adoring smile. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How long have you been awake? How do you feel? Do you need help getting to the bathroom or anything…”

“About twenty minutes, like I might actually survive, and I’m not sure yet. What I do know is I’ve never been this thirsty in my entire life.” He finished off the bottle. “Can I have another, do you think?”

I placed the back of my hand on his forehead…no fever as far as I could tell. “Um, probably? But maybe you should wait a few minutes…”

He swung his legs and spun around so they were now resting over my left thigh, his arm reaching out to tug another Pedialyte from the shrink wrap. After grabbing it, he simply said ‘shit’ then leaned into me again.

“What’s up? Nausea? Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Bathroom?”

His voice was mildly muffled, his breath on my neck. “Just a little light headed. Perhaps I moved too quickly.”

I snorted. “Ya think? Take it easy, Thomas. Let me do stuff, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you for the song last night.” He fumbled for my hand, gripping loosely when he found it. “I love that one. Hearing you sing it just for me was…and you taking care of me…I feel so...”

“Light headed and thirsty?”

He laughed softly as I helped ease him back into a sitting position. “Loved, actually. But that too.”

After another full bottle of Pedialyte, I escorted him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth and then served as his official shower aide, shampooing, soaping and rinsing. He sat on the wall bench within the enclosure while I cleaned myself up, watching me and smiling when I met his gaze, but when I snuck a peek now and again the fact that he was far from well was glaringly apparent. Once dried and dressed, he stretched out on the bed, sighing heavily.

“Maude, I’m knackered. Completely. I don’t think I can be Captain Conrad today.”

I’d just latched my bra and turned to him, mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need to call Jordan. I hate to hold everyone up but I just…well, maybe some coffee will get me going?”

“Dude. No. Just because you seem to be done puking and stuff doesn’t mean you’re, like, BETTER. You need to rest, drink lots of clear liquids and maybe have some chicken broth. You’re not supposed to even eat solid food until tomorrow. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who’ll be MIA.” I retrieved his phone from the nightstand and handed it to him. “Here. Call.”

I finished dressing as they spoke, wrestling my hair into an elastic, coming in on the tail end of the conversation.

“Okay, man. Thanks. No, no, it’s cool. You can’t tell about these things. It was a really nice place. It happens. I’ll see you next Tuesday. Happy Thanksgiving. I will. Thanks again.” He ended the call and looked up at me. “Jordan decided to shut down early, so we’re done until next week. He also said to say thank you for coming down and helping out. And Happy Thanksgiving.” He grimaced.

“Babe?”

“Just gas, I think. Doesn’t seem possible that there’s anything else left.” A few minutes later, he exhaled with a whoosh. “Okay. Better. I don’t suppose I could convince you to drive me back to our cottage, my love?”

“No convincing required. I have to stop and pick up a few things for you, though…cool?”

He nodded, and I gathered our stuff, brought it out to the Jeep, then came back for him. The steps were rough, but once he was belted in the vehicle and able to rest again I determined the trip was possible. He smiled.

“Would you mind, you know…”

I laughed. “Going slow? Yeah, I guess. But just this once.”

He laughed in return, took my hand and kissed it, and I felt as if another corner had been turned.

****************************************

We spent the rest of the day in bed, binge watching Mozart in the Jungle on my laptop. He’d told me he didn’t mind at all if I needed to work, to which I replied with a ‘fuck that shit, it can wait’. The Pedialyte stayed down, and around five PM I microwaved some chicken broth for him to try. That, as well as the two cans of Coke he guzzled down, in part, I suspected, because he was experiencing some serious caffeine withdrawals, stayed where they belonged too. After he crashed out at nine, I managed to get two Prosper client sites up and running before crawling in beside him at two AM.

Wednesday found me in bed alone, and I’d slept so soundly that I hadn’t felt him depart. I leapt up and half-jogged the eight steps into the bathroom, expecting to find him there, sick all over again…but it was empty. I padded back into the bedroom, opened the folding door and, just as I was about to freak out for the millionth time, spotted him sitting out on the deck, stuffing his face, clad only in a pair of shorts. I slipped into a robe as I walked to join him.

He grinned, chewing messily, cracker crumbs landing and sticking in his scruff. I grinned in return, taking note that his color had returned to normal and his dark circles were much improved.

“Well, someone’s feeling chipper today.”

He swallowed, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I’m not certain about chipper, but starving, yes.”

I moved closer, resting my left hand on the back of his neck as I inspected his feast. “Let’s see…chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, toast – which had better be sans butter, by the way- three banana peels, and two Cokes. Gourmet breakfast if I’ve ever seen one.”

He slurped another spoonful of soup. “Lunch, actually.”

“Lunch? What time is it?”

“One or so.”

“Well, shit…sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you have breakfast? Are you okay? Any…issues?”

Motioning to the chair to his left, he snorted as I walked around the table and sat down. “No issues. All digestive system components seem to be fully functional. Breakfast was identical to lunch, and I devoured that at around six this morning. And, I didn’t wake you because I figured you might be in need of some solid rest. I’m tired still, but the ocean air seems to be doing wonders for me. I’ve just been sitting out here, watching, listening, thinking…sometimes not thinking, which is a rarity for me, but decidedly peaceful.”

It was my turn to snort. “Yeah, I think they call that ‘relaxing’. But it’s an activity I’m unfamiliar with so I can’t be, you know, SURE.” My gaze turned to the water in front of us and the mountains in the distance. “This is right here, every day, and I swear, most times I don’t even notice because I’m so busy adulting. Embarrassing. Shameful, even.”

His hand found mine, our fingers entwining. “We have today, and ahead of us five more glorious days off. Together. Let’s make a pact right now to not do a single shred of work. Sound good?”

I nodded. “It sounds fucking exceptionally good. If you see me working, stop me, and I’ll do the same. Deal?”

“Deal.” He kissed my cheek. “Thanks again for taking care of me. You…you’re just…amazing.”

“You’re welcome. It scared the crap out of me, man, how sick you were.” He chortled. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. Anyway. I’m just thankful you’re all right. So I did okay? I had no fucking idea what I was doing, dude.”

He kissed me again, this time on the lips, his tongue tentatively seeking entrance into my mouth. I opened to him, connecting, tasting the odd mixture of chicken broth and bananas, then forgetting about it quickly as he began gnawing on my lower lip. Our contact was severed as we came up for air, and I realized immediately that his panting wasn’t completely rooted in desire. I grasped his chin gently with my right hand, staring into his eyes.

“You okay?”

He nodded as I released him, taking another several seconds to catch his breath. “Yes. Though I’m mortified to admit I may not be quite well enough to take advantage of you at the moment. Forgive me?”

My eyes rolled. Twice. “Thomas. Please. You’re supposed to be resting. I’ll clean all this up, you go lie down.” His mouth opened, and I cut him off before he could begin. “NO. GO.”

He smiled. “All I was going to say is that I was planning on taking a shower first.”

“Oh. Fine. Carry on. If you need help, holler.”

We both stood, and he pulled me into a huge, warm embrace. “I love you, woman.”

“And I love you, man.”

“I know you just got up, but I don’t suppose you’d join me in bed again after I’m done washing?”

“Absofuckingloutely I will. I just need some fuel…the chocolate pie in the fridge should do the trick.” A sheepish half-smile from him. “Thomas. Tell me you did NOT eat the pie.”

He laughed. “I didn’t. I wanted to, but thought better of it. Though I wasn’t sure which would be worse…my stomach acting up again, or your wrath upon discovering it gone.”

I poked his shoulder. “Get off my deck, you cheeky bastard. GO.”

He let me go, turned and headed back into the cottage, moving at human speed instead of Tom speed. Every day at some point, I fell in love with him all over again. This was today’s moment, watching him walk away, feeling grateful that he was able to do so under his own power, and that he was…mine.

I’d just finished doing the miniscule amount of dishes his lunch and my breakfast had created when he came around the corner and into the kitchen, totally starkers.

“Oh my…Thomas, I had no idea there’d be a SHOW before we retire to the boudoir.” He grabbed me from behind, arms around my waist, lips on my neck. “And I’m sure our neighbors didn’t, either.”

He glanced to our left and saw that the curtains and the blinds were wide open, releasing me to go close them with a flourish. “My apologies, dearest neighbors…this show is by invitation only.”

When he turned around to face me, I was not in the least surprised to see that his cock was hard and at half-mast. I raised a brow, pointing.

“Well, I guess what they say is true…you really can’t keep a good man down.”

He blushed adorably, shrugging slightly, hands outstretched. “I thought maybe, just maybe, that if I didn’t have to move very much we could…”

“So you want me to ride you like a pony, is that it?”

At that, his cock twitched and grew fully erect. The blush deepened, turning from baby pink to nearly magenta, and I roared with laughter. “Oh my GOD you are so CUTE I can’t EVEN.” He covered his face with his hands, and I laughed louder, bent over with my hands on my thighs, my words sporadic and between chuckles. “If you…if you’re not…on that bed…in the next thirty…thirty seconds…I’m going to have to…SPANK YOU…”

Once I composed myself, I washed my hands, dropped my robe on the floor, and joined him in the bedroom, closing the folding door behind me. He was waiting, lying in the middle of the mattress, still red as a beet. I straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him briefly as I took his cock in my left hand.

“Just lie back, relax, and enjoy, my love. If it’s too much and you need me to stop, just say so, okay?”

He nodded, and I ran the tip of him up and down my slit and against my clit a few times before sinking down onto his full length.

“God, Maude…you feel so good. So, so good. I love being inside you. I wish I could be inside you, every second of every day. Just like this, all the time. Divinity. All mine.”

I began rocking, slowly at first, upping my tempo as his moans grew louder, finally resting my hands on either side of his head, angling forward to ride him in earnest, our eyes locking.

“How’s that, baby? Am I your cowgirl? Riding my wild stallion, taming him, teaching him how to please me, how to behave?”

“Oh yes. Yes. YES. Please don’t stop.” His hips began bucking up into me, and I paused.

“Ah, ah…there will be none of that. This is MY rodeo, sunshine.”

He ceased, and I moved faster, the head of his cock pressing into my G-spot with every tilt of my hips. “That’s a good boy. You do as your cowgirl says and let her have her fun, and maybe you’ll earn yourself a treat, too. Would you like that?”

More nodding, his eyes closing as he forced himself to remain still, though I could feel the tension in his thighs, the desire to pound into me nearly overwhelming him. It pushed me over the edge, and I came, my own muscles tensing and releasing, squeezing him, pinning him in place inside me as my hips jerked wildly.

“There it is. Oh yeah. FUCK YEAH. Your cock is so fucking HARD, it feels so fucking GOOD my god OH MY GOD…”

He let himself go then, fucking up into me, thrusting no more than five times before he came as well, warm cum shooting up inside me, his head thrown back on the pillow, eyes still closed, mouth open, silent. The sight made me come again, my own eyelids falling shut, then snapping open in concern at the sound of him whimpering.

“Babe, you okay?”

His hand reached up to cup my jaw, slightly-unfocused gaze meeting mine. “I’m perfect, thank you. Sorry I came so quickly, love. It’s been since Sunday…how I am I ever going to manage when I’m in Australia and you’re in London for two weeks in January? I need you. I need to have you…”

I lifted myself off his softening cock and rolled onto my back beside him, his hand slipping off my chin in the process. “Skypesex. Lots of Skypesex.”

He shifted, turning his head toward me, and when I did the same the look on his face made me melt…the sweet, gentle smile, eyes wide open and full of light and love, blinking slowly, those damn lashes brushing his cheeks…I inhaled sharply at the beauty of it all, and his hand reached out again, this time to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I’d be remiss to not mention that I’ll miss your company most of all. Your physical presence in my sphere, your laugh, your voice, your scent…you. You’re just as much a part of me as my own heart is, and living without either is impossible.”

“Well, I was going to say it’s just two weeks, it’ll go fast and we’ll be fine but now I’m going to have to quit my job and hide in your suitcase instead.”

He grinned. “I fully support that decision.” The grin faded, countenance growing serious. “I know it will be fine, and we’ve been apart a few nights here, but we’ll be halfway across the globe from each other and I’m going to miss you, Maude. Like I’ve never missed anything else before in my life. And, I have to be honest…I’m frightened, even if it’s just a little.”

I rolled over fully and propped my head up with my arm, elbow resting on the bed. “Frightened of what?”

He rolled as well. “Distance. I’ve never been good at it. I think I’m better now, but…what if you discover that you don’t want to deal with it? Or me? What if you realize while I’m gone that you liked your life better without me in it? I…”

I kissed him, sucking his tongue into my mouth, the released him quickly. “There is NO life for me without you in it, Tom. Don’t be afraid. It’s going to suck, but we’ll handle it. Just like we’ll handle anything else that comes our way…together.”

“You’re right, Maude. I know that.” A sigh escaped him, followed by a deep inhalation. “I just have remember that past experiences are exactly that…the past. I need only focus on now, and the future. Our future.” His left hand first cupped my left breast, then worked its way down to rest on my lower belly. His gaze followed, remaining there for ten seconds, then returned to my face, his eyes questioning. “Speaking of which…I’ve been meaning to ask but you have far too much on your plate already and I don’t want to add to your stress but I guess I’m going to anyway, aren’t I? Sorry, but you singing to me Monday night, it was so like a lullaby and…” His hand began to caress me gently, and I suddenly understood what it was he wanted to discuss.

“You want to know if I’ve thought about when we should start the whole let’s-try-to-knock-up-Maude business?”

He chuckled, then sobered. “Yes. So, you have, then?”

“Oh yeah. A lot, actually. Let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken, which means time is of the essence. So, I want to say, like NOW, but…and this is going to sound utterly ridiculous because I’ve been married before, much to my horror, and in this day and age no one really gives a remote shit about such things, but I am totally not comfortable with the idea of being visibly pregnant at our wedding. I’m sorry, it’s stupid…”

He kissed me then, deeply, moving the hand that was on by belly to my backside, propelling me toward him, then pulling back to reply.

“Maude, it’s not stupid, not one single bit. It’s actually rather adorable, honestly. And hilariously contradictory and god, how I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m perfectly fine with fucking your brains out constantly but visible, tangible proof of said fucking in the form of a preggo belly? Oh, no, not THAT. I’m insane. But you knew that going in, right?” He snorted, and I pinched his nipple. “So. I’m thinking if I wait and go off the pill in February, that should do the trick.” I frowned.

“What is it?”

“Well, there’s another conversation we need to have.”

“Which is?”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Since I AM older, it might not be easy for me to get pregnant. I might not be able to get pregnant without fertility drugs, or other assistance. And there’s a possibility I might not be able to get pregnant at all. Or, since the only time I was pregnant I had a miscarriage, I might not be able to maintain a pregnancy. You need to be sure you’re okay with those things before we get married. I know you want a family, and if I can’t give that to you…”

He placed his hand over my mouth, gently silencing me. “You’ve been worrying about this.” I nodded, his hand remaining in place. “Don’t. Not ever again. We’re very fortunate that if things aren’t easy, we’re financially able to pursue any and all options available to us. And yes, I DO want a family…but Maude, there are all kinds of families. My gut tells me it won’t ever be necessary, but I’m open to anything, including adoption. Or, no children at all. YOU are what’s most important to me. It’s all I need in this life…everything else, it’s gravy. Like you just said…we’ll handle anything that comes our way, together. Right?”

I nodded again, and he removed his hand. His stomach gurgled, and he smiled at me. “Could I, do you think, possibly get away with having a teeny, tiny piece of that chocolate pie?”

“By get away, do you mean outrun me? Because that’s what it’s going to require, dude. PIE. MY PIE.”

He leapt up off the bed, opened the door just enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind him to slow me down. I didn’t bother to get up, shouting from the bed.

“Fucker. If you eat all that I’m never sleeping with you again.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah. I totally am. Bring my piece in here please, Sir Asshat.”

“As you wish, my love. As you wish.”

[namuneulbo]

week eleven

im writing this w newly painted nails so lets pray i dont get nail polish all over my keyboard. i struggle so hard w painting my nails neatly. it always gets all around my fingers.

i dont remember monday really... i didnt do anything special.

tuesday was theory, prod and band practice. during lunch break i went to the store to go pick up a package. i ordered a tee for t for their bday. idk if i talked about it in another entry but yeah i got her a ghost tee and thanks to the buy two get one free thingy i got a fall out boy tee for myself. ive been wearing it everyday since i got it TT

wednesday! school was normal but i went to culture club in the evening (culture club as in an event, not the band). it was some instrumental experimental jazz thingy. quite nice but i couldnt help but phase out sometimes. me and l (who i usually go to culture club with) sat w my old friend j. later on ls friends a and m joined as well. i wanted to order a latte but they couldnt serve lattes and i dont like the other drinks they have so i just had nothing. a later got coke and i realized i couldve just gotten that... i didnt wanna embarrass myself more in front of the hot cashier though (e, if ur reading this, i know ur like engaged and stuff but u know if u ever need like,,,, me, just hmu!!).

i had an extra band practice on thursday since were nearing the concert and also the keyboardist cant join next week. we practiced it like it was the actual concert (by that i mean we included the stuff ill say in between songs as well) once before we ended. the entire set is almost 30 mins. after practice i went by the store to get chocolate for my mom since her bdays next week.

on friday i met up w l to celebrate their 17th bday. their bday was last friday but u know, i was in stockholm.. anyways!! we met in town to go get churros. we went to my place and ate them and i showed her the albums i got in stockholm. we then went to the studio to go do some work on my prod but surprisesurprise... i did absolutely nothing. i literally cant focus wo a teacher telling me what to do next. i compressed (?) the synth. thats it. i wish i liked producing.

l got hungry and we decided to go get food. we struggled w picking a place, none of us really cared about what we got, especially after i also started getting hungry. we went home and we had planned to order in mcdonalds but it was temporarily closed :’) we then decided to go get afghan food from the cart right outside my house. it was pretty good. i had never tried it before but i think i liked it even more since i was hungry. i probably would get it again since its the only place nearby where u can get falafel as far as i know.

i dont actually remember if it was her or me who initated it but i wanted her to sleep at my place bc im scared of the dark and my mom would be at her boyfriends place this weekend so id be all alone and i get so anxious when its dark :’) sadly they didnt bring any stuff w them so she couldnt really and not from saturday to sunday either bc theyd have to leave early in the morning on sunday.

i went to sleep early to avoid any more nervousness lol thankfully i usually feel less anxious if a friends been there recently since i still somehow feel their presence????? girl idk either but its easier to stay calm.

saturday was busy in a good way. i met up w i, m and t around 1 pm and we made pancakes. we (i) made too much batter and later on i had to throw it away bc i left it out instead of the fridge. anyways it was good and we had them w vanilla ice cream, syrup, berries and bananas! later we played a cah like game on our phones. it was fun!!

i had to almost rush them out of my place since i was supposed to hang out w e, l, m and t (again) at 6. it was a bit confusing since t had to go home before going to ms place so they had to leave and then go to ms place right after lol

anyways we ended up being like,, 20 mins late but its fine haha it was our (me, l and ts) second time meeting w them (e and m). it was our first time at ms place too (or well, first time at her parents place. we were at their own place the first time).

we had really fun. they had chips, chocolate and pepsi all served out and her mom even made nachos for us. it was nice.

we left around 11:30 pm. i went to sleep right after.

today ive only spent time getting ready. for what? absolutely nothing lol i just like looking pretty. i think my nails are dry now so im gonna go clean up the stuff that ended up around my nails. bye!!

sotw: fall out boy - tiffany blews

[fxycu]

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[savofid]

I'm completely burnt out at this point. Just... I dunno.

For context, I've got some pretty bad anxiety issues brought on by a combination of working for the government and being in a relationship with a legit psychopath. I went from an incredibly controlled and structured work environment to a somehow even more controlled home life. She would lie and manipulate both me and my friends to maintain control over me. I eventually did end the relationship, but the damage was done and can't be undone.

As for the burnout... I was at work on Saturday, a day where a very important inspector happened to be visiting. We knew in advance, which probably didn't help me at all. We did well, which is nice, but he didn't show up until the afternoon. Considering I got there at 9 in the morning, I had all that time to just let my anxiety fester and grow.

When my anxiety manifests itself, it does do in one of two primary ways. I either become physically ill or incredibly aggressive. Saturday happened to be an aggressive day, so I kept my mouth shut and talked to no one. Every little thing that one particular coworker did would set me off, and I had to keep that all bottled up. The sheer level of her incompetence is unparalleled in any place I've ever worked, and I once had a boss that couldn't do basic math.

Now, I thought that, outside of that day, especially having the next day off, I'd recover and be fine. Turns out that having what was effectively a low intensity anxiety attack for ~6 hours does a lot to wear you down, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, as well.

When I got back to work on Monday, I was relatively okay. I didn't really sleep the night before, maybe getting two hours, but, other than that, I was fine... Until 3 PM, when one of the girls I work with showed up. For the record, I have an incredibly powerful sense of smell, to the point where I can tell when one of my coworkers is having her period even before I've seen her. I can just smell the change from across the restaurant. Smell also has a profound effect on me, which I suppose makes sense given the context.

She must've changed her shampoo or perfume or something, maybe deodorant, I don't know, but whatever she did made her smell exactly like my first ex. I had to actively stay away from her because it would just send me through an emotional rollercoaster each time I got a whiff of it. This eventually caused me to break even more.

Thoughts were filling my head; thoughts of self-harm and self-destruction, an intense desire to drink, a want for isolation, and just an overwhelming desire to collapse onto the floor and weep. I gave in to none of those (although I did have a single beer before bed so as to quiet that stupid, nagging voice in my head that refused to shut up even after 8 hours). I honestly think I should have at least allowed myself to cry. I think it would've been cathartic.

All this being said, it's been almost 6 days since then and I only feel marginally better. I just want to be okay again, and I don't even know where to start. How do I even stop that? How can I possibly stop myself from smelling something that'll flood me with overwhelming emotions and bring me crashing down all over again? I don't have an answer that doesn't involve the destruction of my olfactory nerves, because part of me feels like even that won't stop it.

Should I go into therapy? Probably, yeah. Do I want to? Absolutely. Can I afford to? Not at all. I can't even afford to replace my car right now, which is its own source of anxiety. I know I've got friends that would happily talk to me about what I'm going through, but I feel like they won't understand it completely, that some part of it will get lost on them without me having to go into a lengthy amount of context as to how all of this is affecting me. I could do it here, sure, but no one reads this or is going to read this, so what's the point? I'll give some context, though, just in case someone does end up stumbling across it at some point:

My first ex was also my first partner. As the saying goes, "You'll always remember your first," and, boy howdy, is that true. She was patient with me and genuinely did love me. She taught me much of what I know now about sex, and I, somehow, taught her a few things, too. However, she repeatedly cheated on me. We were only together for 6 months and she managed to cheat on me 7 times. Now, the critical thinkers might assume this caused some abandonment issues or worries about trust and all that. You'd be incorrect. The stem of the issue that I have today is from me, not her.

After we had broken up, she would still try to talk to me and get me to come back to her house to have sex. I'd refuse every time cause I didn't want anything to do with her anymore. However, one day, I was at work and she texted me. That particular day was following a rather painful dental operation that resulted in me being prescribed painkillers. I won't get into the side effects they had on me, but let's say one made me much more willing to take her up on her offer.

I texted my parents and told them that I was going to be late getting home due to one girl being late. This wasn't an unusual occurrence on its own, so they bought it. Instead, I went over to my ex's house. I didn't even change out of my work clothes, was still mostly dressed, and we ended up having sex. I ended up finishing much quicker than anticipated, most likely due to the meds, and I immediately began getting ready to go.

She lay there, naked on the floor, looking innocent and sweet like she felt I was coming back to her in that moment. I looked at her and said, "Do you wanna know why I finished so quickly?"

She perked up, eager to hear the answer. "Why's that?" She was clearly expecting me to tell her something about how I missed her, but I shattered her in that moment with a single sentence.

"Because I don't fucking love you anymore." I walked out of her room, waved goodbye to her dad, got in my car, and left into the night. She never tried to talk to me ever again after that. The closest reaction I had to her was her mom apologizing on behalf of her daughter's behavior while the two of us were together. A year after we broke up. It was... Awkward, to say the least.

I still beat myself up about that, about how I broke her heart. To this day, I still haven't forgiven myself, even if it was what was needed to have been said to get her to leave me alone. I didn't need to be so mean about it. There were other ways to achieve the same result, and I chose the nuclear option. That's why, when I smell that same smell, it hits so goddamned hard. It doesn't remind me of her, it reminds me of what I did to her.

And now, here I am, 11 years later, still paying the emotional price for that. The look in her eyes as I said that still haunts me to this day; the look of someone completely broken in the most vulnerable position one could be in.

People tell me I'm nice. I'm not. I'm a terrible person and should be treated as such.

[sussex-nature-lover]

The Roadmap out of Lockdown

From England’s Government Monday 22nd February 2021

Scroll down the page for the usual daily blog.

My friend across the Ocean has heard we’re going to be easing our National Coronavirus Restrictions and so I thought I’d post what the Government said yesterday.

This is copied from the BBC news site on line.

A new four-step plan to ease England's lockdown could see all legal limits on social contact lifted by 21 June, if strict conditions are met.

Shops, hairdressers, gyms and outdoor hospitality could reopen on 12 April in England under plans set out by the PM.

From 17 May, two households might be allowed to mix in homes, while the rule of six could apply in places like pubs.

It requires four tests on vaccines, infection rates and new coronavirus variants to be met at each stage.

Prime Minister Boris Johnson told MPs the plan aimed to be "cautious but irreversible" and at every stage decisions would be led by "data not dates".

There was "no credible route to a zero-Covid Britain nor indeed a zero-Covid world", he said.

--------------------

Mr Johnson later told a Downing Street news conference the coming spring and summer would be "seasons of hope, looking and feeling incomparably better for us all".

Local Bluebells last year - Season of Hope

He described the plan as a "one-way road to freedom" but said he could not guarantee it would be irreversible "but the intention is that it should be".

It comes as the first data on the UK's coronavirus vaccine rollout suggested it was having a "spectacular" impact on stopping serious illness.

Step-by-step

As part of the first step of the plan for easing lockdown in England:

From 8 March - All schools will open with outdoor after-school sports and activities allowed. Recreation in an outdoor public spaces - such as a park - will be allowed between two people, meaning they would be allowed to sit down for a coffee, drink or picnic

From 29 March - Outdoor gatherings of either six people or two households will be allowed. It is understood this will include gatherings in private gardens. Outdoor sports facilities such as tennis or basketball courts will reopen and organised adult and children's sport, such as grassroots football, will also return

Secondary school pupils can access tests and will be required to wear face coverings in classrooms and shared spaces like corridors.

There will be a gap of at least five weeks between each of the plan's subsequent steps to allow for the impact of changes on infection rates and hospital admissions to be assessed.

image: istock

------------------

The second step from 12 April 

would see major parts of the economy permitted to reopen:

Non-essential retail opens, hairdressers and some public buildings like libraries

Outdoor settings like alcohol takeaways, beer gardens, zoos and theme parks

Indoor leisure like swimming pools and gyms

Self-contained holiday accommodation, such as self-catering lets and camp sites

But wider social contact rules will continue to apply in all settings - meaning no indoor mixing between different households will be allowed.

Mr Johnson confirmed the end of hospitality curfews - and requirements to eat a substantial meal alongside alcohol.

He said a review of international leisure travel restrictions would be announced by 12 April at the earliest.

Funerals continue with up to 30 people, and weddings with up to 15 guests.

----------------------------------

The third step will come from 17 May

- if the data allows - and will see the "rule of six" abolished for outdoor gatherings, replaced with a limit of 30 people:

Two households can mix indoors - with the rule of six applied in hospitality settings like pubs

Cinemas, museums, hotels, performances and sporting events reopen - though social distancing remains

Up to 10,000 spectators can attend the very largest outdoor seated venues like football stadiums

Up to 30 people will be able to attend weddings, receptions, funerals and wakes.

image: Cambridge Tent Company

Mr Johnson said this step would also "consider the potential role of Covid status certification" - which could refer to so-called "vaccine passports" - in helping indoor venues to reopen safely.

Before the fourth step, ministers will carry out a review into social distancing and other "long-term measures" designed to reduce transmission, including the "one metre plus" rule and the wearing of face coverings.

They will also consider whether to lift the "work from home" guidance, which the government says people should continue to follow until the review has been completed.

---------------

The fourth step from 21 June 

will potentially see all legal limits on social contact removed, with the final closed sectors of the economy reopened - such as nightclubs.

The government hopes that - from this date - restrictions on weddings and funerals will also be abolished.

Music and events leaders called for more financial support for the sector, with the boss of one live music trade body saying his industry is "at the back of the queue to re-open" once restrictions are lifted.

MPs will vote on the roadmap in late March.

Labour leader Sir Keir Starmer welcomed the plan but said certainty was needed over the future of the government furlough scheme for both businesses and workers.

Prof Neil Ferguson, of Imperial College London, said he thought the roadmap struck the "right balance" - but warned reopening schools risks increasing the number of cases reported each day.

Speaking later at the Downing Street briefing, UK chief scientific adviser Sir Patrick Vallance said it was "very important" to leave a gap of five weeks between the changes in the roadmap to avoid "flying blind".

Sir Patrick also said "baseline" measures - such as face coverings in certain situations, hand washing, and self-isolation - may be necessary next winter.

Why the caution?

The vaccines are working well and infection levels have fallen five-fold since the start of the year.

So why, many may ask, is there such caution?

The answer lies in the mountain of data published by the government as it unveiled its roadmap.

Among the documents was modelling done by Imperial College London.

It showed a rapid easing of restrictions could lead to surge in deaths over the summer and a total of 80,000 deaths by the middle of 2022.

There is much uncertainty about scenarios like this - for one thing it did not take into account any seasonal impact that the warmer weather could bring by reducing spread of the virus.

The gradual lifting could, by comparison, reduce that to around 30,000. That would bring it in line with the sort of deaths we could see during a bad flu winter.

UK chief medical adviser Prof Chris Whitty says that should be the context in which we judge Covid now.

The devolved nations have the power to set their own restrictions but have largely moved in the same direction, though at different speeds, during the pandemic.

--------------

♦ PERSONAL NOTE: Crow had his first shot of the vaccine on Friday19th February 2021. He was given the Oxford-AstraZeneca version and had no side effects whatsoever. English policy is for second doses to be given 12 weeks later.

[justinjohn]

A New York State of Mind. 2.18.18

I’ve been out of NYC for about 3-4 months now. 

It’s been an insane two years. I feel like I’ve just woken from a coma, but in which I was awake and functioning but operating like one of those cockroaches that’s been taken over by a zombie wasp, maneuvering through the world but without free will. You know that feeling? “Automaton mode”? That was me for like the last several years– just sort of going through the motions, staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over, wondering where the remote is, if the Handmaid’s Tail is on yet. 

It’s taken me months of questioning myself, my identity, my dreams, my life, and doing the ‘Okay, so I’m 33 now - I have, like, how many good years before I am too decrepit to fly?” questioning, which I guess is premature, unless like me, you’re convinced there’s a terminal illness brewing inside you at all times just waiting to emerge. (Thank you @WebMD.)

So as I sit here with a blanket on my lap on this reflective Sunday, staring at the broken tortilla chips littering the carpet that missed my mouth last night and empty glass of wine on the coffee table, I thinking about “what’s different now?” And I realized that the longer you live in New York, it changes. It morphs. Sometimes for the better, and in my case, sometimes not. 

When you’re in New York in your twenties, the passage of time doesn’t exist as a concept: you’re too focused on work, Tinder, trying to not throw up in the cab on the way home, doing ‘brunch’ as a novelty thing with sunglasses on the whole time and bitching about how slow people walk on sidewalks. It’s this hubris ‘freedom of youth’, a 6-year alcohol-slide of fun after college that spits you out at 30 when you wake up with your first 3-day hangover you didn’t know was possible and the realization that three of your friends moved away for jobs, pregnancy, and ‘other pursuits’.

Except at 30 in New York, you’re like, “What other pursuits?” Other pursuits don’t exist in the lexicon of a die-hard New Yorker, so you just think everyone else is a cop-out for leaving, like those people who go home at 11:30 PM at a really good party, and you keep going because on the island of Manhattan, everyone is dancing and there’s no bar time. 

Except then, like me, you wake up a few years later and you realize that you’re still at the party but in a stupor in the corner, and the girl you used to hook up with 10 years ago is now a lesbian and 40% of the party has departed. Once you climb in mid- to late- thirties in New York and look around, 90% of your friends are still single, some are starting to go insane, and you find $160,000 in New York gets you a 650-sq foot one bedroom, you’re sort of like, “Wait, where’s my brownstone and executive husband who is going to surprise me with a ticket to the opera?” And in my case, I sort of realized, I was the one deluding myself. As you get older in New York, the experience centers more around a good bagel on a Saturday morning, runs along the river, more adult-like meetings that don’t end in someone doing coke in a bathroom stall. Seeing your friends’ baby and then calling your friends to talk shit about her.  For me, it included a constant state of exhaustion due to always feeling like I had to be productive at every waking second of my life, low-buzzing anger against tourists and crowds in any context whatsoever, and an undying fear of cockroaches. I lived a self-righteously independent lifestyle that required the existence of no one else, and I saw that going nowhere good. It was a moment when I realized, “Does this just continue until I die?” 

Retail changed. Fashion changed. I started to like dogs again. My sister had a baby. I was tired of flying all over the country and sleeping on hotel pillows that smelled like someone else’s hair. I stopped going out after work 5x a week. And restaurants seemed all overpriced with mediocre food. And the rest of the country was getting all the same places. I was realizing more and more that what made NYC special in my twenties just didn’t have the same sparkle.

My friends were mostly gone. My life had become a smaller vortex in a way I didn’t expect: marked by dinners the same people, the same restaurants, and I started to go to places I used to frequent that became younger versions of themselves for the ‘new class’ of young Manhattanites. And yet I still had only a partial set of dishes, no oven in my apartment, and when it would rain, the water would drip through my bathroom ceiling onto my toilet. I started to run out of bars if I saw I was out past 2 PM, and living in 300 square feet was just starting to feel more like a cage but with pre-war accents. And those nights of just going to Broadway shows on my own that I imagined? I did it once and I felt like that 85-year old gay man who loves musicals so much he goes to ‘show tunes’ night at the bar on Mondays to sing Bernadette Peters and people are like, “Clem has been coming here since 2006.”  So, no. That ended.

The construct of New York itself, as an intimidating, incomprehensible frontier, had withered; it wasn’t a playground for fun like it used to be, but rather now a place of subsisting where I now had to transition from “NYC” to “adulthood”, to real life, in a way I never thought possible, which grew in volume by the day until I couldn’t drown it out anymore. The days of taking subway rides to challenging jobs with fun dinner plans and a possible reckless night ahead had been laid to rest. Now, I was in the game of back waxing, face masks, and 11 AM body attack classes on Sundays, wondering if I should finally try to make my relationship work.. A word not in my lexicon in my 20s.

I had come to a moment in my life where I had to question: do I cling to this ideal of what I imagine New York is forever, or is there something behind the curtain of life I am missing in the process of being addicted to this pursuit?

Sometimes what we want is not what we need, and very often those things diametrically oppose one another. I wanted: fashion, money, status, clout, a big apartment, exotic travel.  I need: someone home with me, possibly a dog, good food, music, writing, adventure, family. 

Weird how simple it is, no?

Manhattan, to me in my twenties, was an eschewing of life and its convention, an escape from the imposition of social standards, freedom. And it was. But then you realize in your thirties: we are all actually just human. And the vulnerability of humanity rises above any place we choose to live. The need for love and socialization, to desire to co-habitate and be with friends and family (and for some to pro-create) will rise about the context of any city and its wonderful, sophisticated distractions. 

New York is a state of mind.

It hasn’t been easy. In four months I’ve almost moved back twice, like some Stockholm syndrome, this magnet of promise of a life that once was, of relevance and excitement, which is now a proverbial urn filled with the ashes of fabulous memories we will retell over drinks, which periodically pop up on my facebook feed as embarrassing face-palm reminders of my behavior.

I’ve been forced to look at life in a bigger way, beyond ‘Manhattan’,  and in hopes that I haven’t broken our relationship for good. 

And so it is after 10 years of fashion, two moves, that I am trying to now rediscover life in all of its new meaning. It’s weird and hard and yet kind of fun and I’m doing my best to learn the ropes. I hope I hit my stride soon.

---

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[krebstar]

hey so like i feel absolutely silly doing this but it has been really rough and i’m not sure i can really Handle my mom anymore

this is mostly planning in advance but, i’m in a mentally abusive household and i really need out of it. however, i am a minor so i’m unable to for at least another year. i would really appreciate having the money to move out as soon as i can, which is why i’m making this post.

my paypal is here, and you can buy me a coffee here. i do commissions, too if you would prefer that.

more details about what’s going on are under the cut. it’s... really long but has like. everything i can remember, so.

so... this has been going on as long as i can remember (~10 years old or so). it used to be both of my parents, but my dad passed away and now it’s just my mom.

the earliest thing that i can remember is from the later years in elementary school (3-5th grade? around 8-10 years old?). my dad was terrifying when he was angry and was very loud, and my mom had a tendency of getting me in trouble, and then telling him how awful i was and she would have him yell at me for something he knew very little about (she would make him just jump into the conversation.) this was one of those times, and i was curled up on the floor with him yelling at me, and her standing over me. i remember afterward, i wrote something along the lines of “my happiness is ruined” or “i’ll never be happy” or something of the sort about.. not being happy, then i tore it to shreds.

around middle school (11-14 years) was where everything sort of picked up? my mom began to pick on me with constantly telling me i was breaking out, i looked bad, smelled bad, and so on and so forth. i asked her to stop numerous times and she refused to, laughing in my face whenever i asked. it started to make me feel bad about myself, and is the root of why i’m self conscious.

one day (7th grade) when she was telling at me for something i can’r remember, i told her “i hate myself because of you” and she replied “if you hate yourself because of me, you need to get a life.” thus, marking when i stopped telling her anything.

there was one time at a restaurant, where my mom wanted me to try and do the math for the bill. despite me refusing due to my math learning problems (possibly dyscalculia, but she refuses to get me tested), she continued to try and press it on me. when i continued to say no and got stressed and upset that she was trying to force me to do something i didn’t understand, she reacted badly. she told me that we were joking and laughing (we weren’t, she was very serious) and then told me that i had a “personal problem.”

my mom and i were at my grandma’s over the summer and she told me that she always jokes with me after arguments (meaning: she yelled at me a lot and made me have a panic attack) so i “get over it quicker” / “forget about it”

at one point laptop broke, and my mom called the people to send it in and get it fixed despite already taking her medicine (which wouldn’t have kicked in for another 30 minutes). I was grateful and thanked her, though i was still panicky and crying due to being so dependent on my laptop. i was yelled at for being in that state, and it was another instance when my dad yelled at me as i was curled up on the floor. he yelled at me for not being grateful when my mom called even though she took her medicine, and for some other stuff i can’t remember right. (i do remember pulling my hair hard and calling myself a horrible ungrateful daughter.)

one time when my dad and her were fighting (they were on a brink of a divorce before he passed away) she said that if i wasn’t around, that she would kill herself. she said that.. when i was right there in the other room with the door wide open.

(my dad was always neglectful of me, and never? really gave me the time of day to the point where i didn’t entrust that he could take care of me, and if he payed attention to me, he would just yell at me.)

in 8th grade, my dad passed away by drowning (i feel uncomfortable giving more details about that, if you need them you can PM me, but otherwise i won’t disclose the rest. i have a post about it in my archives somewhere as it was happening.) i grieved “weirdly” i suppose, i didn’t wish to hear the word “dad” or look at the river, let alone be around it. i didn’t want to talk about it with my mom, though i talked about it with my friends.

i continued to not to want to look at the river, and would refuse to, for a couple months. my mom didn’t like this at all and told me to “get over it” several times. and even though i asked her not to talk about him several times, she did anyway, constantly and always.

around freshman year things sort of.. escalated. the rest of this will be taking place from freshman year to current (14-16/almost 17). these might be out of chronological order, but ill try to keep them in order as much as possible. i started writing stuff down around here so im going to start off with the dated ones:

Saturday, January 9 2016: admitted to wanting to slap me Wednesday, January 20 2016: admitted to wanting to slap me Monday, February 22 2016: Oak Court mall in a dressing room: grabbed me by my shirt Wednesday, March 30 (6:00am): “You know one day in the morning you’re going to cop a little attitude and i’m just going to smack you.” (a minute afterward coming and saying she loved me) Monday, August 8th (5:36am) “if you give me a sarcastic attitude this early in the morning, I’ll end up smacking you in the face.” Wednesday, August 31st (9:41am) she was throwing an eraser at me, and when I was showing discomfort, she said “be glad I’m not throwing something bigger at you” and pretended to hit me with my tub of icing

August 9th, 2016: i suggested we leave so we can go feed the cats [that i was catsitting]. she didnt get that, and got mad at me for “never listening to her” because she wanted to feed the cats afterwards. she said i always get what i want, and she wants to get what she wanted. started talking about how i “lived a charm life” and i always “get what i want” and asked me what i “didnt have” and “nothing? yeah”

told her i was upset because i felt like she was so mad at something that wasn’t that big of a deal. the conversation below happened (her voice was slightly raised)

my mom: you always say i get upset with you for nothing me: when was the last time i did that? my mom: the last time we fought me: and when was that?? my mom: my mom: it doesnt matter

she started talking about how it was a problem i think i “always get what i want” and if i didnt think it was a problem that i had a “serious problem” with her. i started to be unresponsive, just looking ahead and replying with “okay” and not being on my phone. she started to try to talk to me, and turned on the radio station i like to listen to. she started to tell me she loved me. she apologized afterwards, and its the only time i can ever remember her apologizing for anything.

there was a time we got into an argument, she said that we “dont have [my] dad to be peacemaker,” completely ignoring that it was NEVER his role to be peacemaker, and that she only ever made him yell at me more.

she talked a LOT about my dad and how awful he was, and about their marriage problems. she told me at one point that her bipolar is so bad because my dad never had sex with her enough.

she attempted to have .... something with one of my really close friend’s dad at one point in time, in the past couple years or so. i walked in on them making out sometime. she wanted to date him-- and lied about it-- and he didn’t because he was a bit weirded out because my dad had still somewhat recently passed away. she cried for a whole 24 HOURS, ignoring sleeping time, about him and about how much she missed my dad, but never let me grieve in my own way.

we were at perkins when the subject of dating was brought up and i told her i was uncomfortable with it (it hadnt even been a year, or had just been a year or something) and she told me, again, to “get over it”

and, then, she got her boytoy (who we’ll call larry) and successfully got (and still has) a friend with benefits. she lied to me a long time, and told me that they weren't together or anything despite them fucking while i was home, and NOT being silent about it, either. i eventually told her i knew and that it made me uncomfortable that they had sex while i was at home. she told me to get over it at first, that i always got everything i asked for, so on and so forth.

after a while, and me continuously asking her not to have sex while i was home because i already walked in on her once, she told me that it was her house and that her friends couldn’t “believe the audacity [i] had asking her not to fuck while im home” and she.. hasn’t stopped. ive actually found her bondage gear recently.

(sidenote on larry: hes... really disgusting. he watched one of my friends take a shower while she was over, and when i told my mom that she said “well not everyone is perfect.”)

and then... the night that prompted me to start this post, which happened october 8th. she left me home alone for ~30hours (and i only saw her for 2 of those), which... i had already told her numerous times that i dont like to be home alone at night because it causes my delusions to act up and makes me very paranoid. on the third night she was gone, i texted her a handful of times asking how she was because i hadn’t seen her, and i missed her (a novel concept) and.. that was apparently the wrong thing to do.

she came home at 2am that night and started to ask me why i could never be home alone and making it way deeper than it actually needed to be. she called me a coward for my delusions, selfish, and told me that she didn’t think i was going to be a functioning human being. she told me that im faking my mental illnesses because i want an excuse to be scared (which ill get into later*) and refused to acknowledge the research i had done on these mental illnesses. at one point she was guilt tripping me, and i gave in and admitted it was my fault... and then she..? guilt tripped me? for that. she said that i was just “saying that to make [her] feel bad.” she told me that i was making up my mental illness symptoms by telling me that they’re.... “in [my] head” and that i cant be mentally ill because ive stood up for myself twice. (the only reason that i’ve stood up for myself is because the things that were happening were very hazardous to my health and i was close to killing myself)

i had been sleeping in her room because my air conditioning upstairs wasnt working and it was too hot to exist up there at all, and so i packed the items i brought down with me, and was moving to go upstairs. she forced me to stay downstairs because i was “running away from the conversation” (which ill also get into later**) and forced me to stay the night downstairs. after the conversation was said and done, she returned and told me “do you ever think your delusions and hallucinations are overactive imagination because of your ocd and you think of the worse possible scenario when you hear a noise?” which is...not how anything works.

the following morning, she was EXTREMELY petty and wouldnt let me leave her side since “i missed her so much!!” and continued to force me to spend time with her and refused to let me on my laptop or phone. she started to yell at me again (which i cant really remember what she said, but she called me selfish for.. wanting her around?)

BONUS CONTENT :) aka stuff that i wasnt able to put in to keep it chronological

my mom has always threatened to ground me because of crying (though she said she would “never ground me because it would ground [her] too”) and im basically... not allowed to feel anything but happy, because if i express any other emotion it always results in her yelling at me for some reason.

*she gladly admits that i inherited OCD from my dad (who had an extreme case, as well as almost my dad’s whole entire family) but refuses to admit that i also inherited psychosis from her. ive brought up that im pretty sure i have DPDR, but she also refuses to even learn what it is and tells me that im just faking it. she won’t get me help, and says she won’t.

**my mom walks away whenever she doesnt get her way in an argument. she has left me in the middle of a museum in another state (not without shouting “fuck you” at me from across the room first), in the middle of a parking lot for at least 5 minutes, walked out of my grandma’s house twice, and then walked away from me another time downtown (thankfully i was with a friend.)

she shits on literally anything i enjoy. we go to the movies, i show her shows, i talk about things i like and she always has to find something she hated about it. even when she cant find anything specific, she replies with “eh it was okay” and doesn't fake it to ever let her child enjoy something. i always feel bad immediately after. the most recent example i can think with this is seeing moana with her.

if anything Major Happens(tm) ill probably reblog this and add it on, but until then.................. yeah

[roccoroks]

VOLUME 5 DAG POST SO ANOTHER ROD RUN HAS COME AND GONE AND IT HAS LEFT ME IN THE WAKE OF DISGRUNTELED GUEST OVER PARKING , ROOMS WITH BROKEN REFRIDGERATORS AND SEVERAL LOST ITEMS IN NEED OF BEING RETURNED TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS. SEVERAL THINGS HAPPENED THIS TIME AND I WILL TRY AND KEEP THINGS AS STRAIGHT AS MACH STYLES SEXUAL ORIENTAION SO BARE WITH ME! It was your typical rod run this spring in that there were classic cars as far as the eye could see, toilets were overflowing with the stench of nearly dead guests last dinners from the golden coral and I for the first time in 3 years had the day off to enjoy ………at work……even in my down time I have to come here….sux. The time is 4:30 pm, it officially hawt as bawls outside and im watching the desk while my new manager “monty” dips out for a bite to eat. The door opens and im faced with a loud, demanding, hateful women from PA….so a normal woman from PA….who is mad about parking. Me: *gee, I really hope the next 30 mins goes smoo….. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SMELL! IT REEKS OF BITCH!* CLAB: *Crazy Loud Ass Bitch* umm….theres a man outside that’s saying that if I don’t move my car then he will have it towed or he will park his truck in front of it until Monday and called me a bitch……(ME: honestly I stopped paying attention to her at this point)……or im going to call the cops. Me: *fuck you karam, just because I like to rub vasoline all over my butt cheeks and press it against businesses plate glass windows in downtown under the cover of darkness, I have to deal with this?* CLAB: so…..what are you going to do about it? Im paying 175.00 a night and I feel I should beable to park where ever I want! Me: *you are the same bitch from last year aren’t you…* mam im really sorry about this but during the rod run we have over 5000 people and cars come into town and parking can get a bit limited. CLAB: WELL DON’T YOU THINK THAT’S NOT MY PROBLEM? Me: *oooooooh so we are going to go down this long road of stupidity?* like I said, mam, parking can get a bit hectic during these shows and we expect everyone to govern them selfs. CLAB: look you NEED to go out there and talk to this man or im going to report you to your manager. Me: *ah hellnah! Bitch you did not just…….. >.> i cant believe you just...how dare.....i may pee on you* Me: ok, lets go *get this over with* *we both walk out to the parking lot where im am greeted buy a mid 40’s male who knows me from years of rod runs and he seems to have been drinking and is in no mood for this ladies bullshit, I know because he says so in this dialog ^.^ * CLAB: this is the guy that spoke to me like I was trash Me: *because you do infact smell of a garbage bag filled with diapers that someone threw up on and set on fire....because thats what bitch smells like* DD: *drunk dude* look I never said any of that shit to you, your just making it up Me: but we haven’t even discussed what you said yet….never mind, look, why is it a problem for her to be parked here CLAB: *interrupts* oh there’s no problem, he just wants this parking spot to himself DD: look, my tools are in my truck and I need to work on my car and I don’t want to have to walk across the parking lot to get my tools every 5 mins Me: *and a long stager it must be 25 feet away! Beside, had you bought a ford instead of that rolling shit box you call a nova that’s more rust that nova, this wouldn’t be a problem* CLAB: that’s not my problem , I need a parking spot and this one was open Me: *5 points to bitchindore!* DD: MY GD CHAIRS WHERE IN THIS SPOT SAVING THEM FOR ME AND YOU JUST…..JUST…..MOVED THEM! LIKE THEY WERE NUTHIN! Me : *shee-took-yur-churrrs! * CLAB: well they were in the way! DD: iv had just about enough of your shit! ME: HO HO HO HO HO HANG ON A MIN! *yelling louder that both of them to convey my point* NOW LOOK, last year I put up two signs and handed out two flyers to ALL of my guests, including you, that 1. Trailers are no longer to be parked on site and 2. That chairs could no longer be used to save parking spots, meaning first come, first park no exceptions! DD:…….. I forgot about that, you did do that CLAB: *shoots a look of “take that bitch” Me: *looks at clab* I also told you on Tuesday when you checked in that this would happen with parking and that you would need to get a spot early to AVIOD THIS! CLAB: I don’t think that’s my problem do you? Me: *omfg if you say that one more motherfucking time* YES, yes it is your problem when I looked right at you and warned you this would happen and you ignored it! Is like I said “hey this coffee is hot, don’t pour it all over your face ok” and you did it anyway and couldn’t figure out why it hurt. CLAB: I just don’t see how this is my problem Me: * o.e there is a special place in hell for people like you! Its called florida* I honestly don’t know what to say. DD: I don’t know why this is such a problem, I mean there is a perfectly good spot open right over there by the pool doors, its closer too. Me: * O.e…..did I just hear a loud pop sound in my head? Why is everything starting to get shaky and I smell burning hair….am I having a aneurism?* did….you just? Surely you did say there is a parking spot right over there….right? DD: yeah, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about! *crosses arms and looks proud of him self CLAB: I don’t want that parking spot I want this one! Me: …….. *looks at both of them in disgust* so what’s wrong then? *both look at me like im a idiot* Me: *clearly im dealing with creatures with undeveloped brains not unlike that of a 5 year old or a form of mild cheese. I may have to get the speak and spell out for them* look, I should be in my office answering the phone and booking reservations for tomorrow night, instead im out here dealing with 2 12 year olds who are fighting over who gets to ride the tricycle next. There is a perfectly good spot right over there that either one of you could park in, its close to the hotel, and its close to your car so THERE IS NO PROBLEM. You two just wanted to be validated in what you both thought was right in your list of personal self-ethics and came and got me, someone half both of your ages to settle your squabble instead of acting like adults! CLAB: who’s your manager, ill have you fired for this! DD: …..mam, this young man is the owner. CLAB: *looks at me* WHY DON’T YOU TELL HIM TO APPOLGISE (or how ever its spelled) TO ME THEN! Me: *really….you are no longer mild cheese, im down grading you to Mexican! (yup, going to hell for that one)* because you started this! You both can’t act like adults and neither one of you deserves it! Look if I have to come back out here and deal with this again, you will both be looking for a lot more than a parking spot for the night! *walks off like a boss!* Meanwhile back in the halls of ‘’fort phone ringing the fuck off the wall’’, I have 12 people trying to call me at the same time Me: good afternoon RSML, how may I help you Dag: umm….yeah….um…hi…um like how much like…you know ….your Me: *come on you can do it* Dag: um….like your 2 room bed suites are? Me: *in what way was that even a fucking sentence….* when are you coming in? Dag: um….. like……you know….that time….next month? Me: hummmmmm that time next month….. Dag: oh! Um….yeah you know….like Saturday? Me: ok getting closer, we narrowed it day to 5 days instead of 31 Dag: oh, um….you like….. Me: *oh for fuck sake* *begins trying to pull my hair out and presses the phone harder to my ear out of frustration* Dag: like…that one Saturday that everyone's coming in? Me: 199.95 +tax Dag: wow that much? Me: *oh now you speak coherently* yes sir Dag: for which Saturday? Me: um like…you know...um...all of them Dag: *hangs up phone* Me: and a fine fuck you to you too sir *hangs up phone and turns around to see a family of 5 behind me* Me: how may I help you? FO5: we will just check somewhere else *walks out the door* Me: normally this would be bad but we are full soo……fuck em…. Monty: *from the back office* you should be nicer, they might have come back Me: really ass, you were back there the whole time and you couldn’t come to help me? Monty: I have a ham sandwich, this take precedent over pot heads asking about rates Me: you know I can fire you right Monty: you wont though Me: ……mother of fuck…..bitch called my bluff Few mins go by and im about to head out for the night when a man that I can only describe as so old that he may have known jesus on a personal level. Me: good after noon, how may I help you? *20 mins later he makes it to the desk* Old Dude: (we will call him OG cuz he gansta!) do you have anyrooms? Me: yes sir ! I have 2 br suites available *maybe this is a cool old dude and my night is turning around for the good* OG: oh good, what that Me: *ah you’re a crazy old man* well that’s our trademark room with 2 queen size beds! OGh I need 2 rooms with 2 beds in each room Me: well I have 2 2bed room suites side by side if that will work for ya? OG: no no no, I only need 4 beds not 8 Me….um…k….well if you get two of our 2 bed room suites then it would accommodate you that would give you 1 queen per bedroom OG: no no no then I would only have 2 beds, I need 4 *he is getting a bit angry…..or tired….or both, idk, hes old and hard to read* Me: I know sir but 1 of our 2br suites will have 2 queen beds OGh ok so that’s 1 room with 4 beds total right? Me: *O.e…wooooooooooooooow….* no sir that’s 2 beds total per room OG I know giving me 4 beds total right? Me: yes….wait no…what? OG: do you even have rooms with 4 beds/ Me: no sir OG: do you have 2 rooms? Me: yes OG: how many beds do they have Me: 2 per rooms OG: so you do have 4 beds per room? Me: whos on first? OG: what? Me: no whats on second, do you want a key so you can look at one of the rooms? OG: yes….wait, what? Me:...here…..*grabs pen and paper* OG: oh….nevermind, that’s not what im looking for ME: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU /RANT . . . . . . . . OR IS IT……

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Rafael Barba / In Sickness...

Imagine having to take care of Barba when he’s sick.

So if this hasn’t been done a million and one times.... So I love the idea of having to take care of Barba when he’s sick, because I feel like he’s really stubborn and would hate that a little cold could take him down like this. He stands up to rapists, murderers, and gangsters, but a little cold and he cannot function. This is me though since I tend to get sick before/after midterms/finals or when I’m super stressed and I am also a workaholic like Barba soooo.

Barba hadn’t shown up to the office today, you noted with some curiousity. You tapped your pen on your desk, recalling the handful of times he’s been out of the office for this long without prior notice. Well more work for you, you sighed, glancing at the pile of briefs and motions in front of you, before getting to work. Either way, it would be nice to get some work done without him watching over your shoulder for once. You had just gotten to work, when your phone started to vibrate. It spasmed, informing you of several messages that had come through. You checked the phone, spotting Barba’s name flashing at the top of your notifications. You unlocked your phone, only for him to call you. 

You sighed, the man was the most impatient person you had ever met, and picked up the phone call with a bit of reluctance. “L/N,” You answered. 

“I texted you some file names. I need you to bring those files to m-” Barba’s last words were cut off by a hacking cough, you flinched, holding the phone away for a moment, before getting back on the line. “To my apartment.” He croaked out the rest of his sentence.

“Are you okay?” You could almost see him scowl at you, feeling the daggers come through your phone screen.

“Just perfect,” He replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though severely undercut by his now hoarse voice. You said nothing, giving an audible sigh, and waiting for him to explain. “I caught a cold, and didn’t think it was prudent for me to come into the office sick-”

“Even though you probably have done that before?” It was his turn to sigh.  

“Maybe I’ll just pick them up myself,” He said bitterly, and you felt a tinge of guilt gnawing at you, before leaping into action. You held your phone between your cheek and shoulder, as you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.

“Hold it, Barba, I got it. You’ll have your folders in no time. Just stay in bed and rest. Tell me which ones you need.”

You not only picked up the folders he needed, but while you were at it, you picked up some cold medicine, cough drops, and some lunch. You figured he didn’t exactly have the energy to cook, especially since he actually stayed home from work. Something that still surprised you when you considered what a workaholic the man was. You arrived at the address he texted you, the doorman let you in and you arrived to his loft. You knocked on his door hesitantly. You just realized you were arriving at your boss’s apartment, you weren’t sure how to conduct yourself. You fidgeted while waiting for him to answer the door, when you got a text. It’s open.

You threw open the door, shutting it behind you with your foot. “You work sex and murder crimes and you think its safe to leave your door-” You looked around, you didn’t see who you were lecturing. “Barba?”

“In here,” A muffled voice floated from another room. You wandered to another door, knocking on it. “Come in,” You saw him with his laptop on his lap, back pressed against his headboard and some pillows. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice scratchy, and his nose was red and splotchy. He had several files piled next to him, as well as a mountain of tissues in his trash can. “Good, you brought the files.” You saw him texting on his phone. “I have a hearing on Monday. I’m texting Rita Calhoun trying to-” You walked over, snatching the phone from his hands. “What? What are you doing?” You closed the laptop, picking up the files around him and placed it on his dresser. “Y/N, give-”

“Bed rest,” You said calmly. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “You want to be well enough on Monday for trial, you need to rest.” You dug through the bag you bought, pulling out some cold medicine and tossing it to him. “Take this. Wait, how long has it been since you took anything?” He glowered at you.

“I’m not a child,” He scowled, but it was less effective with his red nose and watery eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

“I want you to lay down, and rest. I bought lunch, but I’m going to heat it up.” You turned and were heading from the room. “Lay down,” You insisted with a wave of your hand. “Please?” He grumbled, and muttered something about still needing his phone back, but he laid down as per your request.

You warmed everything up, you grabbed some food from a great Egyptian place that you and Rafael often got lunch from. You found a bed tray he had in kitchen, and set it up on his lap. You brought in his wrap, plus a large drink and some fries as a side. Rafael’s eyes cracked open, peering at you and the food. “Should I feed you too?” You joked as he sat himself up. He began to eat, as you left the room to eat yourself, but you heard him call you back. “Yeah?”

“Aren’t you going to join me?” He raised an eyebrow. You blinked.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.” He rolled his eyes as he had done countless times. 

“Do I need to be incapable of eating in order to get you to have lunch with me?” You sighed, the man was a piece of work. You grabbed a chair and your food, pulling up a chair next to his sick bed. You both ate in a comfortable silence, until he broke it. “Thank you,”

“What was that?” You grinned at him, and he shook his head.

“And you say I’m a piece of work,” The man was also a mind reader. “I said thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to.”

“Well, you’ve grown on me Barba, what can I say?” You took a bite of your wrap. “Plus I couldn’t ignore a sick man’s desperate pleas to work, but you aren’t working while I’m here. I’ll stay past dinner to make sure you don’t starve.” You checked the time. It was 1 PM. You looked back to see Rafael checking his phone again. You snatched the phone from his hands, he snapped up at you, aghast. “You eat lunch with me, you play by my rules, counselor.”

After some prompting, you got Barba to take his medicine and go to bed for a few hours, forcing him to change into something more comfortable after you left the room, which left you alone in his apartment. You pulled out your laptop and began to work on some of your own cases and work. You took care of your work and some of Barba’s work as well. You sighed, feeling accomplished, but completely mentally drained. You laid on the couch, pulling out your earbuds and phone, listening to some music. Your mind began to drift, and managed to sleep for about an hour, until a knock at the door startled you to your feet. You stumbled to the door, throwing it open. You saw an agape Olivia at the door, her expression went from confused to awkward in a matter of seconds, and you realized what conclusion she had jumped to.

“Y/N,” She looked at a loss for words, while your mind had completely blanked. “I went to see you both, but Carmen told me that Barba had stayed home today, and you had left, so I thought I’d pay him a visit.”

You remembered after an excruciatingly long millisecond that you could speak. “Yes, of course; he’s still asleep actually.” You felt blood rush to your face when you saw her eyebrows raise. Shit. You realized not only the implied connotations of what you said, but what a mess your clothes and hair looked like after falling asleep. “In his own bed. I was on the couch. He asked to bring over some files.” You explained, your words rushed, as you let Liv in. You saw her eyes spot the takeout containers on the counter. “He’s really ill, so I brought lunch for him, and me, since I hadn’t ate.” You were rambling and felt quite stupid to be honest. Liv always managed to make you feel inferior in someway. She just seemed so together all of the time. And her and Barba, well...the two had chemistry. You wouldn’t be surprised if they had or would ever date. The thought had crossed your mind, but you had pushed it aside. Although, you couldn’t deny it always left a strange tinge. “He’s passed out, but maybe I could help.”

Liv explained the case to you, a rape case gone cold had opened back up again. She wanted to see if they had enough to take it to trial. You looked over the files, smoothing over your hair as you did. “I don’t know. It seems like the evidence is-” That’s when Barba’s door opened behind the two of you, and you both turned to see Barba walk out in a plain t-shirt and shorts, rubbing his eyes.

“Do you have anymore of that medicine you gave me in bed because-” He seemed to have realize Liv was there, and you swear you saw a blush appear for a split second as blood rushed to his nose and ears. “Liv, what’s up?”

You had turned about five shades of red at the implication of being in bed with your boss. And you saw Liv’s expression out of the corner of your eye, and you weren’t sure, but she looked almost amused. “Not much, Barba, just some new evidence in that rape case we were working. Now do you want to discuss this now or after you get dressed?” A look of realization and horror crossed his face, before he quickly retreated into the bedroom.

There was several moments of mortifying silence, until you chose to break it. “Liv, you know it’s not what it looks like. I really did only come here to bring the case files and lunch.” 

Liv searched your expression, freezing you in place like a prep, but then shook her head. “I know,” A brief smile graced her features. “But I’m still not going to let him live this down.”

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND September 6, 2019  - LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE,  SUPER SIZE ME 2: HOLY CHICKEN! and IT: CHAPTER TWO

Lots of COLONS -- there, you happy Edward Havens? :) -- in this week’s featured movies, huh?

Although summer still has a couple weeks left according to a couple of my co-workers, the fall movie season officially starts this weekend, but before we get to the wide releases, I want to talk about the fantastic doc LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE (Greenwich Entertainment), which opens at New York’s Film Forum on Friday. Directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, this movie really surprised me, because I never considered myself a fan of Ronstandt, despite listening to a lot of AM Top 40 radio in the ‘70s – yes, I was alive back then. I know I don’t look it, but I’m old.

This movie gave me goosebumps hearing Ronstadt at the beginning of her career, the archival footage of her performances making it blatantly obvious how talented she was and why she became so popular, something that wasn’t nearly as evident hearing songs like “Blue Bayou” on the radio.  What’s even more amazing about Ronstadt is that I didn’t hear about much of her work in the ‘80s, as she started doing more unconventional things like honoring the traditional Mexican music of her father. I mean, she was just an amazing artist but she started drifting away as MTV made major stars out of much less-talented singers. And then of course, there’s the Parkinson’s Disease that made it impossible for her to sing and kudos to the filmmakers for actually catching a rare singing moment with her family. This movie honestly got me quite teary-eyed as it went along, because you watch this amazing talent having her greatest asset taken away from her by this horrible illness.

Anyway, this is another music doc that I highly recommend checking out if it plays at a theater near you as it continues a long run of solid music docs we’ve been getting so far this year. (Oddly, David Crosby was supposed to be in this movie, too, but I don’t remember seeing him in it, but saw his credit at the end. Weird.)

Another doc opening in New York, L.A. and Chicago before expanding further on Sept. 13 is Morgan Spurlock’s SUPER SIZE ME 2: HOLY CHICKEN!... and yes, the irony of Spurlock still calling his movie something that includes the words “Me, too” in it is a little more than ironic, since it was the movement that took him down just a few weeks after the movie premiered at the Toronto Film Festival (which is where I first saw it). But honestly, Spurlock took himself out, as he came forward and admitted a few things from his own past, which basically got the movie dropped by YouTube Red, who had just bought it. Two years later and I’m not sure how I feel about the movie, but when I saw it back then, I thought it was a worthy successor to Spurlock’s Oscar-nominated film. This time around, Spurlock wants to set up a healthier fast food option, choosing a chicken sandwich place but also wanting to stick to some of the guidelines by making the chickens organic and free-range, something that he finds is more difficult than he initially thinks.

I generally like Morgan Spurlock’s docs, which generally includes himself as a personality, similar to the work of his peer Michael Moore, but Spurlock doesn’t always make super-serious docs and always keeps him mind on the entertainment aspect of going to the movies, and in that sense Super Size Me 2 is as entertaining as some of his past films.

Super Size Me 2 is opening at the Cinema Village in New York and Laemmle Music Hall in L.A. on Friday.

The only new wide release this weekend is New Line/Warner Bros’ IT: CHAPTER TWO, which I’m sure I’ll be writing about a lot over at The Beat, so go click on those links so that they’ll continue hiring me to write more stuff! You can read my review here and an interview with actor James Ransone over at The Beat.

LIMITED RELEASES

Because it’s early September and there is a big wide release, there isn’t as much to talk about as far as limited releases.

Apparently, Janice Engel’s doc Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins (Magnolia) was released in Texas last weekend, which makes sense since that’s where journalist Molly Ivins is from, but it will open in New York and L.A. this weekend as well. I wasn’t as big a fan of this doc as the ones above just because Molly Ivins just felt like she was trying to do a stand-up comedy routine. In other words, the film lacked the depth I would have hoped from a political figure.

Chelsea Stardust’s Satanic Panic (RLJE Films), written by my good friends Grady Hendrix and Ted Geoghegan, that follows Hayley Griffith’s Sam, a pizza delivery driver whose last stop of the day is to a group of Satanists looking for someone to sacrifice. Yup, that sounds like something Grady and Ted (who wrote Ted’s second movie Mohawk) might come up with. So Sam must fend off witches and demonic creatures before she can end her shift. The film also stars Ruby Modine, Rebecca Romijn, Arden Myrin and Jerry O’Connell. It will be released in select theaters and On Demand Friday after premiering at the Overlook Film Festival and playing Fantasia in Montreal in July.

Two more movies opening at the Cinema Village(and other theaters) is Rowan Athale’s Strange but True (Lionsgate Premiere), a star-studded thriller based on John Searles’ novel, starring Margaret Qualley from Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood as the ex-girlfriend of a dead high schooler who shows up at his family’s house claiming that she’s pregnant with his child (five years after her boyfriend Ronnie’s death). Ronnie’s mother is played by the great Amy Ryan and brother by Nick Robinson, and the movie also stars Greg Kinnear, Brian Cox and Blythe Danner, which makes you wonder why this is being four-walled and most likely getting a typical Lionsgate Premiere VOD release.

Paul Taublieb’s doc Blink of an Eye (1091) is an inside look at the Daytona 500 in 2001, featuring Michael Waltrip and Dale Earnhardt Jr, and that’s about all I know about it. Waltrip is a perennial underdog who broke his 462-race losing streak just before the 2001 racing season, but when his best friend the older Dale Earnhardt crashes in the last lap of the Daytona 500, he steps up to race against Dale’s son, Dale Jr.

Opening at the Roxy Cinema in New York this week is Michael Oblowitz’s surfing doc Heavy Water, which follows surfer Nathan Fletcher, whose brother is credited for introducing punk rock skateboarding techniques to the sport. That’s about all I know about that one.

Since actor/filmmaker Justin Chon (The Twilight Sagaand Gook) will be in Toronto this weekend with Wayne Wang’s new movie (which is premiering there), he probably won’t be doing many opening weekend QnAs for his new movie Ms. Purple (Oscilloscope), which opens in L.A. at the Landmark Nuarton Friday and at the Quad in New York on Sept. 13. This one is a drama about a brother and sister (Teddy Lee and Tiffany Chu) who seemingly are stuck in Koreatown after being abandoned by their mother and raised by their father, who is dying. It sounds like a real hoot.

Opening in New York and L.A. is Simnon Hunter’s Edie (Music Box Films), starring 86-year-old legend Sheila Hancock as a widow about to be forced into  retirement home for her last days but wanting to do one last climbing trip before she dies.

The Bollywood film Chhichhore(FIP), directed by Nitesh Tiwari (Dangal), will also open on Friday in top markets, taking place in a hostel filled with interesting and unique characters who go on a journey together.

Coming to theaters for one night only (i.e. Thursday) is Melanie Martinez’s musical K-12 (Abramorama/Atlantic) about a girl named Cry Baby who is sent to a disturbing sleepaway school where she is bullied until she finds a friend who helps her fight against the Principal and his “wicked staff.” I haven’t seen this but having suffered through Slaughterhouse Rulez I’m slightly dubious.

LOCAL FESTIVALS

Not local, but the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) starts this week. It’s my favorite film festival on the world (after maybe Oxford) but I can’t afford to go for a second year in a row, so instead of writing about it, I’m just gonna spend the next week and a half sulking and writing about other things. L

REPERTORY

Since it’s September, a new month and a movie season, I’m welcoming a new addition to this section…

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

I went to see Hitchcock’s Vertigo in 70mm over the past and saw that they’re starting to do a lot more rep. programs tying to upcoming new releases by directors like Pedro Almodovar and Bong Joon-ho, so I’m going to start including some of their screenings and hoping they won’t disappoint me like the New Bev has the last few months. (And hopefully I can include the brand-new L.A. Drafthouse soon, as well.) The problem is that very often, the rep screenings might sell out before I have a chance to write about them, similar to the New Bev, actually.

Much of the Alamo’s rep programming happens on weekdays at 9:30 PM, but as I mentioned, they have some interesting fall series planned.

This week’s “Weird Wednesday” is Drop Dead Fred (1991), starring Rik Mayall of “Young Ones” fame. Monday’s “Video Vortex” is the 1943 Bollywood horror film Son of Dracula, and next Tuesday’s “Terror Tuesday” is the original found footage horror film The Blair Witch Project from 1999. (There’s a free screening of Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of CherbourgWeds night for Alamo Victory members but it’s already sold out.)

METROGRAPH (NYC):

I never thought the Metrograph would bring back its initial charter “A to Z” program with more offerings but sure enough, this week begins Welcome To Metrograph: Redux! On Thursday, it begins with John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 from 1976 and continues Saturday with Ján Kadár’s The Angel Levinefrom 1970. I have never heard of Paulin Soumanou Vieyra but clearly, the programmers at the Metrograph have as they’re playing two shorts programs as well as his 2019 movie Testimony on Sunday and Monday. Also, the Metrograph will continue showing off its love for Anime with a regular engagement for the late Satoshi Kon’s Millennium Actress (2001) after showing Paprika and Perfect Blue the last couple weeks. (You can still see Perfect Blue and Paprika on Thursday, as well as Roehmer’s Le Rayon Vert and Goddard’s Pierrot Le Fou.)  This week’s Late Nites at Metrograph  is René Laloux’s animated Fantastic Planet (1973). Kinda esoteric, no? Playtime: Family Matinees  is Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (2001), so a little more mainstream for the kiddies. Also, some of the Shaw Sisters movies continues through the weekend, and I can recommend both Puppy Love and Starry is the Night, two of my favorites from the series.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

“Marty and Jay’s Double Features” ends on Thursday, so your last options are William Holden’s The Counterfeit Traitor (1962) and Slightly Scarlet  (1956) on Wednesday and Sanjit Ray’s The Music Room  (1958) /Il Post (1961) or Voyage to Italy (1954) and Vincento Minnelli’s The Long, Long Trailer (1954), starring Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz on Thursday. Joseph Losey’s 1976 Holocaust drama Mr. Klein, the filmmaker’s first French film after being blacklisted in Hollywood, will be screened on DCP starting Friday. Also, “Film Forum Jr.” is BACK this weekend with Buster Keaton’s Our Hospitality  (1923)on Saturday and Sunday morning with live piano accompaniment.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Egyptian going a bit esoteric this week with “A Short Series about Krzysztof Kieslowski” (which I won’t even try to pronounce), dedicated to the filmmaker behind the famed “Three Colors” trilogy, which will screen (all three chapters!) on Sunday evening. On Thursday, there’s a double feature of A Short Film about Loveand A Short Film about Killing, both from 1988, and they’re both under 90 minutes so no lie in the title. Friday is a double feature of The Double Life of Veronique (1991) and 1981’s Blind Chance.

AERO  (LA):

This week begins the French Noir series “The French Had a Name for it 5” with a number of double features. On Thursday, there’s Quai es Orfèvres (1947) and The Sleeping Car Murder  (1965), Friday is Maigret and the St. Fiacre Case  (1959) and Port du Desire (1955) and Saturday is René Clement’s Purple Noon from 1960 and a double feature of Melodie en Sous-Sol (1962) and The Sicilian Clan  (1969). If it isn’t obvious, I haven’t seen any of them, but I have seen John Waters’ Pink Flamingos, which is the Aero’s Friday night midnight movie. Sunday’s French noir double feature is 1946’s Paniqueand 1947’s Non Coupable. “Heptember Matinees” continues on Tuesday with Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in Adam’s Rib from 1949.

FILM AT LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

Friday begins a new series called “Sci-Fi Visionary: Piotr Szulkin”  showing six of the Polish filmmakers films beginning with 1980’s Golemand 1981’s War of the Worlds: Next Century. They’ll also be showing a new 4k restoration of George Nierenberg’s 1982 music documentary Say Amen, Somebody (Milestone Films) about American gospel music starting Friday with QnAs and choir performances following screenings on Friday and Saturday.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

Beginning Weds, the IFC Center will screen the new 4k restoration of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986), a movie that I feel it’s been showing as part of its midnight series for months… but if I get to this week’s offerings, and there’s the same bullshit I’ve seen every single week, I’m moving this down to the bottom of the rep section. This weekend’s Weekend Classics: Staff Picks Summer 2019 is John Singleton’s 1995 dramas Higher Learning starring Laurence Fishburne, chosen by “Kashif” and “Marilyn,” while Waverly Midnights: Staff Picks Summer 2019 is Scorsese’s 1999 film Bringing out the Dead (chosen by “Luke”), starring Nicolas Cage.Okay, at least this week’s Late Night Favorites: Summer 2019 is Satoshi Kon’s 2006 movie Paprika (2006), which the Metrograph has been playing for weeks, so I’ll spare the IFC Center from punishment … for now.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

On Friday night, the museum is showing Douglas Trumbull’s 1983 sci-fi thriller Brainstorm in 70mm, and then on Saturday and Sunday, its showing It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World and Spielberg’s Ready Player One, also in 70mm.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

On Thursday, the Roxy is showing Jonathan Demme’s Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense, and then on Saturday and Sunday, it’s showing the Apocalypse Now 40thAnniversary Final Cut.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

This week’s Friday midnight is Tommy Wiseau’s The Room… again. YAWN.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Here I was going to give Tarantino the benefit of the doubt that he’d be back to rep programming in Sept. but why do your job as a programmer when you can just play your latest film and make just as much or more money? Sure, it’s playing The Postman Always Rings Twice from 1946 as the Wednesday matinee the original Disney The Parent Trap (1961), starring Hayley Mills, as the weekend KIDDEE MATINEE. And I do love P.T. Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love, which is playing as the Monday matinee. But otherwise, it’s all Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood all the time. (I guess the Saturday midnight movie is Reservoir Dogs at least?) For this infraction, the New Beverly is being moved to the VERY BOTTOM of this section as punishment, yes, even below the Nuart’s midnight screening.

(NOTE: As of now, it doesn’t seem like the Quad Cinema or BAM in Brooklyn have any new repertory screenings this weekend.)

Next week, the wide releases are STX’s Hustlers and Warners’ The Goldfinch, plus I hear Jillian Bell’s Brittany Runs a Marathon will be expanding even wider. I’ll cover most of those over at The Beat, but I’m sure I’ll have stuff to write about here as well.