#television overdose

[innovacancy]

T.V.O.D. Fete Lounge, Providence, RI 9 June 2023

[stevenvenn]

TVOD - Underdog (from Victory Garden) Heard this band on Marc Riley’s show when Liz Berg checked in. Love the vibe. Going to have to check out more of their stuff!

[elliesmistress]

EPISODE 1: PILOT

WARNINGS: 18+, heavy drug usage (cocaine, weed, alcohol, etc), oral sex (R, E, D, A, ETC), tribbing, overdoses (reader), mentions of overdoses, angst, EVERYONE WILL BE IN COLLEGE AS EUPHORIA IS SET IN HIGHSCHOOL!, mentions of self harm, Jules will be transgender (same in the show, except sex won't be with her), shoplifting, mentions of death, NATE and his family will most likely be left out of this completely and set with new characters that are less toxic, dealer!ellie (sometimes), drug deals, swearing, less abusive relationships but still toxic, mentions of rehab, rehab (detox), death, degradation, toxic sex, rough sex, strap usage, strap sucking, mentioning of 9/11, lmk if I missed anything please!

a/n: this will be VERY similar to Euphoria, you will be RUE (Due to it being "your" story I will be writing it with 'I' as Rue talks). I just need to figure out where abby, dina, jesse, etc will fit into the story. I do know abby will be CAT very likely all the characters will be the exact same (besides from Nate and his parents) I've struggled with a few of the problems in Euphoria and I've written my own fic about MY addictions but I figured I'd do Euphoria too hehe, I will be removing the SA parts of the story because that's just something I don't want to have on my page. Please let me know if you want to be on the taglist whilst I actually have inspo to write :) 3.8K WORDS, spell checked and shit idk man it's like 4 hours past my bed time and 1am

I WILL BE MAKING A EUPHRIA PLAYLIST FOR EACH CHAPTER!

Taglist: @snowy-vee , @vqxen @pedropascalsbbg

PRESENT DAY

"I was once happy, content, sloshing around in my own private primordial pool." I am standing in front of hundreds of people who are here listening to my story—to say the very least, I was nervous. I always have been a fucking addict, and now I'm telling my story of how I recovered from this fucking disease that ruined my fucking life.

"Then one day, for reasons beyond my control, I was repeatedly crushed." I blink my eyes, looking at the floor, struggling to find the right words: "over and over by the cruel cervix of my mother, Grace."

"I put up a good fight, but I lost, for the first time, and definitely not my last... I was born three days after 9/11."

Memories flood back to when I could hear the TV going on the day I was born.

"I can hear you; I can hear you; the rest of the world hears you; and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon." The unknown man says on the TV that hearing the words "USA, USA!" being chanted over and over again made me cry as a baby. Those chants will forever haunt me.

"My mom and dad spent two days in the hospital, holding me under the soft glow of the television, watching the towers fall over and over again, until the feelings of grief gave way to numbness." I shift uncomfortably in the silence of the audience, glancing at my good friends Jesse and Ellie, who indicate for me to keep talking. A soft chuckle comes from my lips as I continue on with the story.

"And then," I take a deep breath, "without warning, we moved to a friendly neighborhood in the suburbs, to where a middle-class child, me to be exact, was looking up at the ceiling, counting those fucking numbers like I could fucking see them. Over and over again. 'thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... sixteen."

"My mother looked up at that ceiling like I was fucking crazy; the words she said echo through my dumb brain still: 'What are you looking at, y/n?'" "I kept counting, trying my hardest to ignore her. She said to me, 'y/n, look at me."

I chuckle. "I bet you all know where this is going. I kept counting, but from the start," and my smile dropped immediately.

"I remember breaking down and crying when my mother tried to snap me out of it. I wanted... I had nothing but to cry, so that's what I did. I sat in a doctor's office a few weeks later with my mother crying next to me as the doctor said I could be suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder, attention deficit disorder, general anxiety disorder, and possible bipolar disorder." I put my hand up close to the mic to cup it. "But I was a little too young to tell," I said in a joking tone, cracking a laugh from the crowd. "Y'all get me; y'all fucking get me."

"With this being said, I was put on medication to treat half of the disorders I had, and to be honest, I don't remember much between the ages of 8 and 12. Just that the world moves fast and my brain moves so fucking slowly."

"I would sit my fucking ass in class every day and try my hardest to listen to what that fucking teacher was trying to teach, but sometimes I would focus on my breathing a little too hard. I'd die. That teacher held a bag to my mouth to calm my breathing, though it never really helped. I remember trying to outrun my anxiety every day, looking in the mirror and trying to push my stomach in so I wouldn't look "fat."

"I would constantly get messages from people telling me they wanted to kill me, drug me, make fun of me, and bully me. My mother knew something was up and constantly asked me what was wrong, but I always gave the same response: 'I'm just fucking exhausted."

AGE 19 (college years)

"You said the doctor was in our network. How could he suddenly be out of network?" I hear my mother say as I walk out of my room into the kitchen, "I can't afford it" Grace says.

"did you see the beauty queen who got acid thrown in her face?" My sister says as I begin to lean on the dinning room table. "Mm, what? No" I say, turning my attention to her and out of my trance. "it's pretty fucked up." She says holding up her phone. "Hey, Mom, you got any tampons?" I turned my head to face her as she looked at the documents in her hand, I knew full well I wasn't going to be getting tampons but she didn't need to know that shit.

"in my bathroom, under the sink." She replies back, I swiftly make my way to the bathroom.

I enter her bathroom and cough as I open her medicine cabinet to take a few of her Alprazolam (XANAX) pills.

I would do this countless times, and surprisingly at some point, you make a choice about who you are and what you want in life.

I pretend to flush the toilet and I look at the picture in my mother's bathroom- it had my dad and my Mom on it on their wedding day.

I look at myself in the mirror washing my hands and putting on sunglasses to hide my pupils that are almost as big as my actual eye itself- I get out of the bathroom to go back into the kitchen

"alright, Jayda, let's roll." I say to my sister as she looks at me and frowns, probably these fucking sunglasses.

"y/n, did you eat breakfast?" Grace says, moving the phone away from her mouth. "I had coffee!" I yell out, opening the front door and making my way out.

Jayda and I begin to walk down the sidewalk, she turns her attention onto me and asks what's with the sunglasses.

"what sunglasses?" I say and chuckle, Jayda laughs with me.

We both make our way to the bus and wait for it to arrive, once it arrives we get on the bus and make our way to the back of the bus.

I guess... I showed up one day, without a map or a compass... Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice. And I know it all may seem sad, but guess what? I didn't build this system nor did I fuck it up.

I was sitting at a party, with a galaxy book to my knees and a line of cocaine, holding the perfectly rolled 5 dollar bill that had been rolled by some rando.

I snort the line of cocaine and immediately felt the pain in my nose, moving my hand up to my nose and applying pressure to where it is painful, making my breathing hitch, then speeding up my breathing in order to get rid of the pain.

My pupils immediately shot big, looking around—everything felt good, my mind at ease and nothing to worry about. I sit up with the most unreal experience, an out-of-body feeling as I struggle to get up.

"y/n, you good?" My friend Ellie attempts to hold my shoulders to steady me as I wobble slightly, I giggle and smile at her, escaping her grasp. "I'm good!"

I walk past people- everything is in slow motion, my body feels slow, my mind feels slow, and suddenly I no longer feel as high- I find another unknown substance and waste no time snorting it, sitting down on the couch.

I sat back up from the couch I was sitting at, getting offered yet another line of cocaine. I snort that cocaine as well, that leaves it hard for me to breathe, every time I take a breathe out. It feels like I'm breathing out all the oxygen I have.

And then it happens. That moment when your breath starts to slow, and every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have. And everything stops: your heart, your lungs, then finally your brain. Then everything you feel, and wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks. And then suddenly... You give it air again, give it life again, and that's what leaves you needing more.

I smile at the figure I see besides me, her face is blurred but she's speaking to me, I feel scared. "I want to call an ambulance" I say in my mind, "but I don't wanna ruin everyone's time"

"dude get her fucking legs" I hear muffled voices, slowly waking up. It was Ellie and Jesse dragging my body to Ellie's bed, after I had passed out on the couch at that random frat party-

I stand in a church with my hands behind my back, looking up at the ceiling waiting to graduate from rehab. Slowly making my way up the steps, I look at the lady and give her a smile and a nod before exiting the building.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Echoing in my mind over and over again as I make my way to Ellie's car.

"Hey!" I see Ellie running up to me. I drop my bags as she pulls me into a tight hug. I smiled at her shoulder. She squeals, letting go of me and looking at my face, pulling a hair strand behind my ear.

"I've missed you," she admits. "I've missed you too."

"What about we go back to mine and we can watch a movie?" Ellie suggests that, honestly, I wanted to get home and get out to my fucking dealer. I never had intentions of staying clean, but she didn't need to know.

"Uh yeah, sure," I say, quickly breaking myself out of my own stance. She helps me with my bag, and she puts it in Joel's old, beat-up truck, and I get into the front seat. "Everyone's missed you, dude, Abby, Dina, Jesse, and Maddie. Fucking everyone, dude."

I chuckle.

-

I cuddle up with Ellie in her dad's garage as we watch Jurassic Park. I'm on top of her, listening to her breathing—she's relaxed; she's always around me.

I find myself nuzzling into her neck. She moves her head to the side, so you have better access to her neck. I softly kiss her neck; she's always so soft.

Her eyes flutter shut as I start to suck on her neck, her hands finding their way to my ass, slowly rocking me back and forth to grind on her. Ellie let out a choked moan as she felt my clothed cunt rub against her clit.

"Y/N, fuck," she moans. I smile against her neck and make my way to Ellie's lips.

I kiss her slowly, but Ellie starts to become desperate, whining into my mouth as I refuse to give her what she wants. I move my hand underneath her hoodie to find her tits; of course she's not wearing a fucking bra or shirt under her jumper. It's Ellie.

"Wait," I say, pulling down her pants and boxers in one go. I look at her swollen cunt, slowly moving my head downward to lick up her slit, making my way to her clit.

She bucks her hips up into my tongue, I moan into her cunt, and she tangles her hand in my hair, slightly tugging upwards, making me groan loudly.

"S-sh-it," her voice is choked. "Fuck, just like that," she moans, rolling her eyes back, her toes curling in her socks. "Hmm? Feel good, baby?" I say to her, slowly lifting my head up, abandoning her swollen cunt.

"Fucking don't," she threatened, and I chuckled. I push my middle finger into her soaking pussy as I attach back to her clit; her breathing gets faster, and I feel her tighten around my fingers.

"F-FUCK!" She moans loudly, and I feel her pussy conract on my finger as she cums, her fingers tugging at my hair. "A bit loud, don't you think?" I tease after letting her ride out her orgasm, and I move up to kiss her sweaty forehead. "Shut up"

"got another in you?" I smirk, taking off my pants, t-shirt, and bra. Ellie takes off her jumper, leaving us both naked. I allow Ellie to get up and let her go on top of me.

Ellie aligns her clit up with mine and moans quickly, filling the room each time Ellie moves her hips. I start to dig your nails into Ellie's back, making her groan in pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ellie chants from the overstimulation. "C'mon, baby, I know—fuck, I know you can do it." I praise her as I feel a knot in my stomach, threatening to come undone.

Ellie moves her shoulder closer to my face. I take this as an opportunity to bite down on her shoulder, which makes her wince in pain.

"I'm going to fucking cum!" Ellie moans out. Hearing Ellie say this triggers my own orgasm, and we both cum together.

-

I sit up in bed watching Ellie sleep, and I take out my phone to look at the time.

4AM

"Fuck it," I think before opening Ellie's window slowly, climbing out her window, and making my way to my dealer's house.

-

"There's a new girl in town I think you're going to be friends with." I stand in front of my dealer, who's sitting down in his chair. "who?" I question.

"shit... I don't know, man. She came in yesterday lookin' all Sailor Moon and sh*t. I'm thinking to myself, "You look like somebody you would get along with."

"Ah, real nice, dude. Really nice, where's ash?"

"I thought you went to rehab?"

"Doesn't that mean I stayed sober?" I smiled, walking towards Ash's room with a smile. I opened his door to see him eating cereal. He puts down his bowl and looks at me.

"Shit, I thought your ass was dead."

"I thought you had Asperger's till I realized you're just a prick." I insult him. "This is a fickle industry. Y'all come and go." He chuckles.

I ask for what I want, and he hands it to me. "Sure, you don't want to try anything new?"

"Like, what?" I asked, pulling the hair out of my face.

"2-C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT." "I have no idea what the fuck you just said, Ash."

"Doesn't matter, dude, this sh*t. Is fucking lit?" He holds up a bag with two unknown pills. "It's a fast-acting psychedelic. I have some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual and shit, but still a sense of distortion... I don't know what's been blowing up in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck on it."

"okay, yeah." I say, putting all the baggies in my pocket, "That'll be 120."

"Fez said he'd spot me."

"Fezco, don't spot anybody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him." I say, pointing the middle finger at him, opening his door, and leaving.

"Do you think my areolas look weird?" Dina says to Abby, "What the fuck, no?"

"Just the edges."

"Dina, they're fine," Abby says, taking a puff of the weed Cassie gives her.

"Fine, like, they're weird, kind of weird, or fine, like, nobody but me would ever notice what I would notice?"

"Fine, like, shut the fuck up, Dina," Cassie says, sitting up, grabbing her vape, and taking a puff. Dina scoffs, pulling up her t-shirt to cover her boobs.

"Hey ladies!" Jesse walks in. "Hey baby," Dina squeals, running to Jesse and hugging him. Abby cringes.

"Straight people, ew," she thinks to herself, looking at her phone. "Yo, you got out of rehab."

"Didn't she die?" Dina asks, and Abby shrugs.

"Yeah, I swear she died. I don't know, is Ellie coming to the party?" Jesse questions, to which Dina nods.

-

I get off my bike at home, slightly drugged up from the drugs I took earlier.

I walk into the house, softly shutting the door.

"Where were you?" My mother says, sitting at the table, Why the fuck is she up at 6 a.m.? You thought to yourself: "I went to eat," I lie. "What the fuck do you mean, you went to eat?"

"what?"

"what?" She mocks, "Don't walk away from me." She sits up from her seat, walking towards me as I walk towards my room. "You know what, y/n? I don't trust you."

"I don't know what you want me to say." It's true; I didn't know why she wanted me to say it. "I want you to tell me where you were," she says, walking quickly as I walk to my room.

"I just said I went to fucking eat!" I yell at her, "Don't you talk to me like that!" Grace says as I slam the door on her face. "Don't be slamming my doors around here."

"It was a fucking accident!" I yell out, holding my body in front of the door. "I don't care. You're not leaving this house until you take a drug test."

"I just peed!" I yell out, "Slam another door."

"Shit," I say, making my way to my bed, not knowing what to do. Every option I could do is unsafe as fuck.

Niacin, maybe. I don't know fuck, I think to myself, putting out my phone to look at the side effects.

Google

Side effects: skin flushing, extreme dizziness, vomiting, rapid heartbeat, and sometimes death.

Fuck, I can't.

"No drug site recommends doing this" I whisper to myself.

The other option is to get a non drug-addicted friend to do it for me.

About 20 minutes later, I show up at Dina's door, knocking.

"y/n!" Dina says, opening the door, smiling and hugging me, "I thought you died."

I laugh. "Can you do me a favor?" Uhm, I'm serious, bro."

"Sure, what is it, y/n?"

"Can you, uh, piss in this cup for me?" I whisper to her . "You're fucking with me, right?" She responds back, and I laugh and shrug.

Dina agrees to do it, and I enter her house to see Jesse and Abby.

"Sup Jesse," I say, fist bumping Jesse, then Abby.

"We thought you fucking died, bro. How was rehab?" Jesse says it with a genuine tone. "Yeah, it was good." I turn to Abby and ask, "How's football going?"

"Yeah, good. Thanks, uh, are you coming to that party tonight?" Abby asks, "Uhm, yeah, maybe."

"y/n" Dina grabs your attention, you move away from Jesse and Abby, and she swiftly hands you the bottle. "Here's that eyeliner."

"thank you"

-

I quietly climb through my window, grabbing my baggie of crushed cocaine, tipping some out onto my shelf, grabbing my 5 dollar note, rolling it up, and snorting a line.

"Argh," I groan, feeling it hit my nose. The same pain I've always experienced with snorting was still there—just muffled out. By this point, my nose was completely fucked, and I could hear the sound of the drugs eating away at my nose.

"Mom! I have to pee."

-

"I wish we could do this in a way that wasn't a complete invasion of my privacy." I say, cup in hand, struggling not to smile at her due to the drugs I had taken earlier on.

"Well, you lost your right to privacy after your overdose," your mom says, staring at you in the eyes.

"That was an accident." I smartly talk back, "Don't be flippy, y/n."

"Could you, at least?" Your mom turns around and says, "Thank you."

I sit down, and before "peeing" in the cup, I swiftly change it with Dina's urine as she talks. I wasn't listening to whatever the fuck she was saying... I was high as fuck, and I didn't care.

I gave her the urine sample, and she put the drug test in the container, and all of them came out negative. "I'm sorry for slamming the door earlier."

"it's okay. I forgive you. Come here." My mom says, pulling me in for a hug.

I guess... Like I said before, you get to choose who you want to be and how you want to be- the way the drugs cancelled out all my emotions was what I was looking for, no person, no nothing could compare to that feeling. Besides from drugs.

"I'm gonna stay at Dina's tonight" i say to which she agrees.

It's now 7PM, I don't know how the day went by so fast- but it did and it fucking sucked. I get a text from Ellie.

Ellie: Yo, noticed you left this morning you okay?

Me: yeah, I'm good bro. You alg?

Ellie: yep! Wanna come over tonight? Dont have to if you wanna go to the party instead

Me: I'll come over around like 11?

I find myself making my way to the party that Jesse, Dina, and Abby are going to.

Jesse and Dina have fucked off somewhere else, probably making out or fucking, and you find yourself next to Abby.

"How was rehab, y/n?" She says, breaking the tension, although I can barely hear her over the music, "Yeah, it was good!" I yell over the music.

I stand up, looking for the bathroom in an attempt to snort more, but people were already in the bathroom. "Shit," I think to myself, not paying attention to where I'm walking, accidentally bumping into this lady.

"fuck!" I yell. Looking at her, she looks like the girl Faz mentioned. "Hey, sorry." I retrace my steps.

"You're good; I'm, uh, I'm Jules," she says, and I smile, holding out my hand to shake hers. She accepts and shakes my hand.

She's got one of the most beautiful smiles you have ever seen; her smile is so bright it could light up an entire dark room, filled with nothing but sadness.

"I'm y/n" I introduce myself, to which we exchange numbers, and I make my way to Ellie's place, feeling overwhelmed from the party.

I knock on her door for Joel to answer; my pupils are dilated, and obviously I've taken some sort of drug.

"y/n... Hey, Ellie's in her room." I smile stupidly. These fucking drugs, man, I can't stop smiling . I swiftly walk past Joel and see Ellie. I smile at her, and she smiles back. "Dude, are you high?" She scoffs, "I thought... I thought you quit."

"I'm not high, Ellie, mania." I giggle; she obviously doesn't want to assume, so she wants to give me the benefit of the doubt.

"Are you coming back to college this month?" She questions. "Yeah, probably." The truth was, I didn't want to. But I knew I probably had to.

I shall leave it at this due to how many words, etc. and idk if people will like this 😭😭

[margojacksonpotter]

Parts in Mockingjay book that should have been in the movie:

-Katniss really disliked living underground at 13. She felt claustrophobic and missed being outdoors and hunting. She never followed the schedule to train and just hid in supply closets and took naps. If anyone tried to question this, she’d show them her medical bracelet and tell them she’s mental.

- Katniss and Annie traveled from 13 to 12 with Katniss’ prep team to find Annie a wedding dress in her house in Victor’s Village. Katniss’ wedding dresses were sent back to the Capitol but she still had a few dresses from the Victory tour. Annie chose a green one. Katniss says Annie laughs at wrong times in a conversation and drifts off mid sentence but Finnick likes her so she does too.

- Peeta decorated Finnick and Annie’s wedding cake. It was part of his therapy after getting hijacked. He decorated it with blue and green waves for their district.

-Johanna and Katniss’ friendship: Johanna wanted to fight in Capitol with the Katniss and Finnick. She and Katniss were deemed too “mentally unstable” to fight. They had to start at the lowest level in training and work their way up to the top. They were even roommates for a while. Katniss noticed Johanna avoided showers and was scared of training outside in the rain. She later finds out Johanna developed a fear of water after being tortured in the Capitol by being waterboarded and electrocuted.

- Katniss was mad that Peeta was sent to fight in the Capitol so she calls Haymitch. Haymitch gives her the ultimate reality check, delivering the best line in the series: “I think it's time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?” demands Haymitch. I fall silent. It isn't. It isn't how he would be treating me at all. He would be trying to get me back at any cost”.

- In the last part of the training, Johanna and Katniss go through a combat stimulation in which the person must face their greatest weakness. Katniss’ weakness was taking orders (no surprise). In Johanna’s stimulation, she faced a flood, had a flash back and panicked. She was sent back to the hospital and wasn’t allowed to the Capitol. To make her feel better, Katniss combined pine tree needles with a bandage to make a sort of fragrance bundle. Johanna said it smelled like home. 🥹

- After the silver parachutes bombs and Prim’s death, Katniss was also affected by the fire. Her skin became discolored and patchy. Peeta was also at the Capitol Circle during the bombing and was burnt as well. He and Katniss have burn scars all over their bodies that never fully go away.

-After the bombing, Katniss is described as a mental “Avox”, refusing to speak for weeks after her sisters death.

-All the stylist and prep team of the Hunger Games were assassinated, with the exception of Effie and Katniss’ prep team. The victors of the Hunger Games were killed as well except for the ones who were imprisoned in the Capitol and saved by District 13.

- The bombs decorated as silver parachutes to m@rder Capitol children was Plutarch’s idea. A Gamemaker’s touch as President Snow described. Plutarch was just as bad as Coin. He thought it made for “good television”

-After Katniss murdered Coin, she was kept in the Training Center for weeks till they figured out what to do with her. She considered s@uicide many times, either by overdosing or refusing to eat. She wouldn’t speak and sang to herself constantly. All the songs her father taught her. After the war ended, Plutarch asked her if she wanted to be a part of a singing competition he was televising in 4.

-Katniss and Peeta wrote a book about all the people they knew and details about them: Primrose, Cinna, Finnick, Peeta’s dad. Peeta drew the pictures. Haymitch helped them too, giving them information about the tributes he was forced to mentor. They plan on reading the book to their children one day.

-What happened to District 12: Hundreds of people left 13 to go back home to 12. They began finding bodies in the rubble and burying them. Madge and her family were found dead. A large hole was made in the Meadow to bury them. Then people began rebuilding the town. With the mines closed, a factory was built from the Capitol to make medicine.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

WebMD Page for Aziraphale

As promised to you all, inspired by that video of Aziraphale as an antidepressant. The WebMD drug format, from your clearly deranged mascot, Asmi. This took way too much effort. For legal purposes, even though this blog is a lawless hellscape, this is a spoof. If you did like it, reblog it, maggoty loves of mine, because likes don't help visibility on tumblr, and I want everyone to be traumatised with my own specific brand of unhinged. No pressure though, be rebels muaha. That being said:

MENU > DRUGS & MEDICATIONS > AZIRAPHALE

COMMON BRAND(S): Guardian of the East Gate, Angel GENERIC NAME(S): Aziraphale

USES This medication is used to treat mood-related disorders ranging from depression to chronic loneliness and anxiety. It has also been proven effective in treatment of Compulsive Demonic Behavioural Disorder (CDBD) and Post Fall Stress Disorder (PFSD). The medication results in an overall improvement in mood (see Side Effects), morals, and lifestyle choices. This medication is sometimes described as a 'miracle-worker'. It is advisable to ensure that the correct dosage is taken at regular intervals. The doctor/God/Forces That Be may prescribe a lower dose at the start, gradually increasing frequency and amount over the course of millennia.

SIDE EFFECTS Documented side-effects include pining behaviour, severe withdrawal symptoms in case of suddenly stopping the medication, heart palpitations, stuttering or stammering, mood swings including irrational lashing out or defensive behaviour when faced with highly emotional situations, break-ups, misunderstands, obliviousness, amongst others. Despite the studies being limited to a single subject (see Crowley et. al. updated 2023) these effects are typically harmless in the long term. Life-altering effects may also be noted, including irretrievably falling in love, marriage, a positive character arc, tendencies to put oneself at risk to ensure continuation of medication, lifelong friendship, fate-defying romance and severe allergy to the idea of discontinuation of medication.

WARNINGS Casual or reckless consumption can be too fast for the medication, which will lessen its effects, leading to withdrawal symptoms. Withdrawal symptoms range from repeated indulging in CDBD and PFSD induced behaviours to alcoholism, depressive episodes, recklessness, listlessness, and prolonged car rides with no purpose. While the medication should not be consumed too fast, regularity is also advised. This is a long-term medication and not a short-term fix. Rare, short-term exposures will only worsen the side effects, withdrawal symptoms and may even reverse the drug effects.

PRECAUTIONS Ensure immortality so that the medication may be able to work its effect through the full course. Pre-existing trauma and heart conditions may require regular consultations with a therapist.

INTERACTIONS Drug interactions may change how the medication works or increase severity of side effects. This document does not include a comprehensive list of all drug interactions, please do adequate research and check instructions on the medication before proceeding with additional drugs. Aziraphale is known to have highly negative interactions with the toxin hellfire as well as the drugs Gabriel (only when sold as Supreme Archangel), Satan and Metatron (known toxin). Negative interference may occur due to most drugs from the class Heaven and Hell. Vague interference may occur with the drug class Homo sapiens.

OVERDOSE While less dangerous than withdrawal symptoms, overdose may lead to lack of personal space, miscommunication, and decrease in mood stability. Increased irritability is also common. Use with caution.

IMAGE

REVIEWS (1) Effectiveness: 5 stars Ease of use: 4 stars Satisfaction: 100000000000000000000e stars

It must be noted that in the country where I live (India), advertisements for pharmaceutical drugs are legally prohibited on television and other media. Which is why I was very bewildered at the initial video. But WebMD is a universal phenomenon so this shall by my contribution to the fandom. Thank you @neil-gaiman, Good Omens has given me a lot of opportunities to exercise my brain in all the weirdest ways.

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: hi… I’m back? Idk if anyone noticed I dipped lmao, but! Back with another update of this fic and it’s a deep one, left off on uneven ground last time so here’s me clearing that up:) sort of.

Warnings: emotions. <maybe not needed but like, lots of emoting so. Quite a few references to Matty’s past, drug-use/overdosing, previous acts of slight violent and the usual stuff w him and this fic I guess (all mentions are brief)

ALSO back and forth changes of pov between Mouse and Matty so keep an eye out x

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Thing was, waking up had never come very easily to Matty. Even as a longtime insomniac.

Sleep came and went in staggered stages. He struggled with falling into it and then struggled with staying there in that languid state. It was almost as though his body was held prisoner by his mind and the thoughts which seemed to forever war there.

The drugs had fixed that, mostly. Stopped his heart. His lungs. And then finally, his brain. Leaving him in this tranquil haze, floating somewhere in between everything and nothing, muting those militant thoughts, blanketing his rampage of never-ending emotions. 

It was the numbness that he had craved. The nothing.

By the time he’d been shipped off to his first stint in rehab, he was utterly clueless as to just how terrifying it could all seem without it. What with the crutch no longer there. Reckoned he still had scabs that wouldn’t properly heal from all the time he’d spent scratching in that tiny box room they’d given him. Never really sleeping and only ever blinking awake. 

It sort of felt like that now. Opening his eyes to find that the world had tilted sideways once again, the wall slanted and the television opposite morphed longways. He sniffed, feeling the heaviness that immediately encompassed his head as he fought to force himself up onto his elbows.

It was quick, the sudden pressure that ripped through the joints, and he hissed as he peered down to find that the skin had been shred to bits, now blotted with flakes of rusted blood that had to have come from the night before.

“Here.”

Matty blinked blearily, swallowing around a lump in his throat before casting his eyes up slowly to find a glass being shoved towards him. He took it, skin prickling at the sudden chill he was met with and face scrunching up in distaste. 

He didn’t move to take a sip though, even with how dry his mouth then seemed, instead rubbed at his tired eyes before he dropped his hand completely to find Ross already settled on the adjoining armchair. Matty realised a beat too late that he must’ve passed out on the man’s settee, just as a forlorn feeling settled somewhere in his stomach, the evident reminder of the promise he’d been given the morning before hitting him.

‘You can even head back here after if you want.’

He’d wanted. He was forever wanting when it came to her. But he could hardly even recall making it through Ross’s front door, let alone contacting her at any point last night. Brow furrowing over how much he would have had to have drunk. 

“Time’s it?” Matty forced himself to ask, voice more guttural than he was used to, grogginess seeping into the edges of it as he settled himself a little better on the settee. He took a small sip of the water, testing the weight it would leave in his lead filled stomach before taking a couple more larger gulps. He settled it down on the console beside him after and then chanced another glance over at Ross, who looked as much a state as Matty felt. “Hm?” He tacked on when he was met with a bland look.

“Just gone one.”

Matty’s brows shot up at that, before he slumped further into the settee cushions. His head now ached something awful and he felt flushed to fuck, sweat causing the back of his tee to stick to the curve of his spine. “Shit.” He muttered unhappily, the familiarity of a migraine already setting in.

The word was met by a drawl chuckle. And look- Matty had known Ross for far too fucking long not to automatically hone into the odd quirks or reactions the bloke tended to favour, which was why he was already frowning when he squinted back over at him.

Ross had since turned his head against the back of the armchair, enough so that Matty could now see the darker sheen that sat beneath his lidded eyes whilst Ross’s gaze flickered over him. He didn’t say a word, merely chucked Matty’s own phone his way.

Feeling his forehead pinch, Matty forced himself to grit his teeth against the flare of pain that shot through his ankle when the thing purposefully missed his open hand and hit the bone of his ankle. “Fuck’s wrong with you?” He snarled at the oversized twat, picking the poxy thing up before rubbing at the offended joint.

Matty wasn’t offered up much of an answer though, what with Ross silently shaking his head at him. So he rolled his eyes in addition, lifting a finger up towards his face to rub at an eyelid before he finally managed to flip his phone the right way around and get a good look at it.

[HOMESCREEN]13:02

News 21 mins ago Back on a bender, Healy?The 1975 frontman was spotted out last night in an argument which quickly escalated and ruined a certain band member's birthday celebrations…

Twitter 28 mins ago Topic - music@/The1759: Matty captured in a deal gone wrong down in London?? Nahhhhh we all saw the relapse coming but this is just insaneeee...

BBC News - UK & World Stories 43 mins ago Matty Healy takes family bonding to whole new levels Hit singer spotted with girlfriend's son in an altercation whilst out in London earlier this month!

Messages 1hr ago Hann Ring me when you see this

The Independent 12:09 Singer, to the international band known as The 1975, was seen multiple times over the coming weeks in a variety of altercations that hinder his so-called sobriety, one of which was pictured and also witnessed by the young son of the frontman’s most recent fling. ‘Mouse’ as dubbed by her radio show, MouseOnAMic, has yet to comment on the behaviour concerning both her boyfriend and child, we continue…

News 11:44 This is how it starts! Matty Healy’s road back to rehab? Police were called in to break up a celebratory party held on the stretch of Soho in the early hours of this morning. Many faces were pictured amongst the masses, but most noticeably was singer Matthew Healy of The 1975, who was seen outside of a nearby club arguing with another man holding a bag..

Had you ever felt the floor just slip out from under you? 

Or maybe even the way that the Earth seemed to suddenly stop spinning, enough so that you could feel every little thing that was happening inside of your body? 

The swell of oxygen being forced out of your lungs. 

The rush of blood attempting to find the place of impact, susceptible to the sudden pain that’s been felt. 

Or even, the pulsing beat of every desperate squeeze your heart made in the very tips of your fingers?

There was a sudden sickness that clawed at the cage that bound Matty's chest together, thickening the walls of his throat and heavy enough that he had to inhale so deeply that the air demanded the bile to retreat back, back, back... Until his gut was the only thing churning and all he’d been left with as the most bitter aftertaste.

It was everywhere. Plastered all over Twitter, mentioned in every news outlet around for miles. Just there. Taking up the screen of his phone- and every other fuckers- without so much as a warning. Pictures, stories, accusations…

Evidence, a part of his twisted mind whispered.

But it was. A trail of wrongdoings which had led right back to that very day he’d spent with Teddy.

Teddy- 

God, how the fuck could he have been this mindless? This fucking blind. How had he messed up so badly?

It didn’t feel immediate, the way he moved to grapple his phone, scrolling in search of her name, for her contact, but it was. It was just instinctive. Thoughtless, how suddenly overwhelming the need to hear her voice was. To make sure that she was alright. Not wondering over whether she’d still be there waiting for him- no matter how heavy that thought now weighed on his dreaded mind. He simply needed her to be alright. And for Teddy to be none the wiser. For him to be okay. Just okay.

He remembered bits and pieces. It was slowly coming back now. An old face. Being offered something or other. He’d refused. He remembered he told the guy no. He’d been tempted, fuck had he been so tempted. But he knew better. Deep down. And he remembered saying no. Remembered pieing the guy off, having a light laugh, backing away. But then there had been a throw of hands, a split lip, the ringing crack of a jaw that had made his mind spin with flashbacks of Luke. Of the roof. Of his face hitting the cold empty pavement.

Matty could vaguely recall shouts and calls. George’s wide eyes. Ross’s hands gripping his arms. Hann already on the phone.

Tempted.

He’d been tempted.

It was that thought which played on an endless loop in his head whilst the ring of his phone echoed out into an otherwise silent room.

A flash of faces rattled across the forefront of his mind; expressions, voices, the need to please, a need to entertain.

She didn’t answer. The line went dead.

So he tried again.

Then a third time.

“Fuck.” Matty muttered breathlessly to himself, the panic in his voice breaking up the quiet that stretched between one ring and then the next.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t answer.

–

Thing was, I’d always known it had been coming. As pessimistic as I was.

But hope was a fickle fucking thing. It made me cut the tip of my tongue on the front of my teeth to keep from ruining perfect moments with thoughtless words. It found its way into the little things I had done and still did. It allowed me just a second to smile, for no other reason than simply being. Than belonging.

Because that was what hope did.

It was also the very thing which had forced me to let my guard down, for those walls of mine to slip. It had granted him entrance into the life I’d so steadily built for myself on rocky foundations and borrowed time. 

It had broken me so easily and effortlessly. Wrapped me up in nothing but an empty pang of regret that rang out for miles and miles.

I stared blankly up at the ceiling laid out above me, counting down the minutes until Teddy finally woke once more. Only this time it would be from the sun rising up over the overpass, rather than his mum slipping in to curl up beside him in the early hours of the morning when it had all grown too much. Her need to know that he was okay, her helpless guilt and the pain which had felt all-consuming.

I wondered over the times Matty had been in here with him, putting Teddy to sleep, laughing together, telling him drawn out stories and singing old melodies. I wondered what he’d been thinking in those dotted moments. If he’d been thinking anything at all.

I questioned how stupid I had to have been, how blind to not have seen it. The lies, because he'd done it so effortlessly. The web he had spun, just in an attempt to deceive me. All laid out before my fucking eyes. And he hadn’t even had the decency to tell me to my face. No, instead I’d had to watch it all unfold alongside the rest of the world.

My tongue licked over my lower lip which had since been bitten raw, having dragged it between my teeth in both panic and pity. Because even though I was angry, a bigger part of me still cared. Still continued to worry. Because oh, how I worried. And wasn’t that the most depressing part?

Here I was, concerned about him, whilst he was out doing whatever, fucking whoever, taking whatever. I’d seen the fucking pictures. I’d seen them all. Scrolled and scrolled until I’d come up to the last fuck-off headline. Until his face had morphed into somebody else, and then someone else’s after that.

The reasonable half of me, the half I was attempting to stamp down and drown out, also knew that what you saw online wasn’t always what it appeared. But still, it looked too much like my biggest fucking fear being brought to life to care enough. I simply wished to have him here, so that he could either explain himself to me or so that I could use him as an object to simply scream at. To rally against.

Because I couldn’t believe he’d gone and done the very thing I'd been so terrified of. That he had done it, and that he then had lied to me. That he had chosen to drag my fucking son into it. Into his fucking mess of a life! After-

After everything I’d given to him.

The thought made me question how much I was worth. How easily I could be tossed aside and shit all over.

A hand tightened around my wrist then and my tired eyes startled over to where a matching set now peered right back at me. Though these eyes were accompanied by a sleep filled smile and not haunted like mine.

I reached up to run a hand through Teddy’s soft curls, thumb brushing over his hairline before it trailed its way down the slope of his tiny nose. “Morning, lovely.”

My chest tightened at the hold Teddy found on my arm then, tucking himself up under it so that he could bury his face into the crook of my neck, those little hands of his coming up to clutch at the fabric of my shirt. I chuckled softly, unable to do much else with the surprise that coursed through me, and hugged him back.

“You okay?” I murmured into his hair, pecking the crown of his head and willing the tightness in my throat to go away. I wouldn't cry, not now.

“Sleepy.” Teddy answered me and I felt him smile against my skin when I chuckled quietly, dragging him even closer to me.

“You know what? Me too.”

His little hand started to gently pat my back then and it broke my heart that little bit more, “Stay here, ‘kay? Keep sleepin’.” 

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, enough so that I was too scared to even speak, so instead I merely nodded, hoping that he’d feel it and somehow know.

“‘Kay.” He repeated after a moment in a hushed whisper, fingers clutching at the back of my shirt, “Love you.”

I bit down on my tongue hard enough to warrant some bleeding, the taste of bitter metal slowly filling my mouth whilst I willed myself to be strong. To not cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him.

“Love you too, baby.”

–

He’d wanted to go charging over there.

Mid panic-attack, itching for a drink, or a fucking fix. Fucking anything to keep his mind from imploding the way it currently was.

He wanted.

He so desperately wanted.

He’d shucked on his boots without much thought, paying heedless wonder to Ross’s words, his desperate attempts to get him to listen. ‘Cause it was all for nought.

His chest burned with a fearsome ache that could light pyres. It was all that he could focus on to get him through the front door of Ross’s flat and out into the hallway. There was only one other door on his floor, on the far end. Though it was empty, Ross having bought it out, loaded enough now to not have to fret about futile things like neighbours. 

“Matt! For fucks sake, Matty!” Matty heard Ross stress before fingers were catching around his upper arm, the grip too tight, too overwhelming, stopping him in his stride.

Not even thinking Matty wrenched himself away, hard enough that it put a good distance between him and the bassist, pinking the skin of his bicep. His mind was working overtime, tick tick ticking. He was overstimulated and buzzing with an unfound energy that wasn’t unlike a bout of withdrawal shakes.

“The fuck happened last night?”

The sound of his own voice surprised him, forced his shoulders up and his gaze to widen, to hone in on the only other occupant that took up the narrow hall.

“What the fuck happened, Ross!” Matty demanded again, stomper now, inching slowly back over towards Ross and the still swinging door he’d just torn open. 

Ross was staring back at him, reminiscent of days Matty had spent denying his ever increasing drug use, or the multiple overdose scares they'd been forced through. Matty could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin now, hands shaking to the rhythm of it, but he could not for the life of him take a breath, so focused on Ross and his unmoving form until-

“What didn’t happen, Matty?”

The sting came then. Not just the metaphor for the way Ross’s words had gone and slapped him across the face, no, the sting that threatened to close his throat and wet his eyes. What didn’t happen.

“I need to know, Ross. ‘Cause my head-” Matty raised a trembling hand, dragging the limb down over his face before he was just stood there shaking his head, “It’s fucked. My head's fucked and I, I can’t. I can't remember even getting here. Can’t remember leaving that fucking club or fucking curling up on your sofa! I don’t know what could have happened for me to have fucked up this much.”

A long pause dragged between them then, Ross watching him like an injured stray he wasn’t sure whether or not to lure closer and take home. Whilst the hallway continued on in its stoney silence, not a peep being heard from anyone or anything, only allowing Matty’s hard and fast breaths to break it up and echo out along the walls. Taunting him.

“You didn’t take anything.”

It was both the worst and best thing Ross could have said. Matty’s shoulders slumped with the weight of it and he dipped his head down between the bones of his collar in lieu of an answer. He hadn’t taken anything. But, maybe if he had then there would be a fucking excuse, a way to annul all of his shitty actions. The choices which had inevitably led him here.

“You didn’t take anything,” Ross repeated after antoher stretch of time, eyes flickering back and forth over Matty’s sad face, “but you did fuck off for a while after. Found you slurring and pissed beyond belief down some back alley of another club a mile off. You,” He paused there- stuttered with uncertainty in truth, but Matty fixed him with a terrified look, whole body ceasing with it. “You were with some girl, Matt. She was as gone as you but she said she’d only wanted to help.”

A girl.

Right.

Right, yeah, no that made sense. He’d gotten drunk, she’d just stepped in to help. He, he wouldn’t have-

“And that’s it? You’re sure?”

Ross continued to stare back at him for a second or two, then his body slumped with a sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

“You don’t know?” Was his incredulous retort, “What the fuck am I meant to do with that, Ross? Did anything fucking happen or not?” Matty demanded, thoughtlessly taking another step closer. Ross, true to his nature, didn’t move away, merely stood his ground.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Ross reiterated with a sharp edge, as close as he’d ever get to shouting Matty knew. “You’re the only one who was, Matty. You go figure it out.”

Matty scoffed angrily, fisting his trembling hands at his side before they could lash out. “Yeah, and how’d you figure I do that then, hey?”

Ross took a breath, hand coming up to rub at his tired face. He shrugged and Matty could see just how exhausted he seemed with everything, with him. “All I know is you’d worked yourself up into a right state before you did your vanishing act, mate. Said something about Teddy, then about messing things up. I tried to talk some sense into you, I mean, we all did. But man, you were hellbent on fucking it all up completely.”

Ross’s throat bobbed and he looked off to the side, out of a nearby window that showcased the looming clouds above, before his gaze trailed back over to Matty’s defeated form.

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone.”

Matty couldn’t seem to find a reply to that.

Could only stand there. Questioning what the fuck he’d gone and done.

…

Hours passed, and then days.

Matty spent each minute trying to right his wrongs, to figure it all out. He’d called, he’d texted constantly. Basically barraged her with the little he had left to give. But heard nothing in return.

Hann had turned up in search of him later that afternoon he’d woken up round Ross’s and his entire life had been shot to shit. The man had practically boxed him back inside the flat and out of the hallway, forcing him to hole up there until the storm he’d created outside died down.

Not that it was much use. The storm only grew, more stories coming out, people stepping forward with fake tales and photoshopped pictures. Ross promised to talk to Mouse for him, but the most he’d been able to manage was an argument with Adi. Which hadn’t worked out all that well for Matty either as it turned out, seeing as how that had only proved to sour Ross’s already shitty mood, eventually putting the two of them on the outs.

Hann had tried too, attempting to contact Squeaks directly instead of through her mate. But had also come up with nothing. He’d been muttering away on the phone to Jamie since though, and Matty knew out of the five of them, it was probably him that Mouse would say something to. So Matty was avoiding him like the sodding plague, which was all too easy to do now that his phone was shattered to bits from a spiteful reaction to yet another unanswered call. 

He knew Jamie would tell it to him straight, see. That Mouse could just as easily end things through him properly rather than face to face, that’s if things hadn’t already ended between them.

So day three and Matty was basically bouncing off the walls, having already raided what little alcohol Ross kept in his flat the previous day and worked his way through the last of the smokes Adam had dropped round a couple hours before.

He was ticking with the need to move. To fucking escape the flat he’d been confined to.

He’d also had yet to hear from G either.

Which, Matty couldn’t lie was surprising. So when he wasn’t trying to talk his way out of the flat or make plans to set things straight between him and Squeaks, he was prying Ross and Hann for answers.

Not that it was worth the effort. Neither said a thing. Or well, they’d said the same thing, repeatedly. ‘He’s just busy.’

Busy his pasty fucking arse. If George was anything, it was a decent fucking mate. Even when Matty had messed up time and time again, he’d been there. Fucking found him that last time he’d been face down and coughing on his own bile, hadn’t he? G always came through.

Just not now, it seemed.

Matty’s head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening and immediately jumped up off the settee to round the corner to see just who it was. Then was all too quick to reel back, shaking his head in utter dismay as he walked his way back across the living room and out onto the balcony.

He heard a sigh sound behind him just as he wrenched open the door. “Matty...”

“I’m not doing this today.”

Matty threw himself down onto one of the deck chairs that had probably come with the place and cursed at the feel of dampness that instantly seeped its way into the burrowed joggers he wore. He tutted, sitting forward in the seat and reaching down to see that the chair hadn't managed to keep itself shielded from last night's rain. “Fuck sake.” He muttered under his breath but didn’t make a move to stand, figured he’d probably sat in worse.

He didn’t look back over either when the sliding door opened again and Jamie stepped on out to join him, though he did hollow his cheeks in irritation when said man tossed a pack of cigarettes into his lap and situated himself against the glass railing. “Gonna talk now?”

Matty merely opened the pack up, chucking the cellophane somewhere to the left of him and shaking two out. He stuck one between his lips and put the other back in upside down. Stretching out a hand, he used the other to tuck the pack into the band of his joggers, and then forced a snide smile when Jamie ultimately handed him his lighter. 

Two clicks and it was lit, he didn’t spare the man the favour of handing it back to him though, simply tossed it onto the end of the deck chair.

Jamie sighed once more, but Matty figured the older man was more than used to his ever changing emotions by now. Still, he knew he was acting the prick. It was just easier to be a prick and push Jamie away, than let the man fucking hurt him first. Not that he even would, it was just- Mouse, weren't it? Mouse and Jamie were mates, they spoke. They’d been fucking mates before even Matty had thought to even snag her number, before he’d attempted to even try to rid himself of the picture of her his mind had held onto. Jamie would tell it to him straight.

“She’s fuming.”

See?

Matty’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, catching on the front of his teeth and relieving the words with a sharp, albeit subtle sting. He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering quickly over to Jamie and then away again. “Like, bad?”

Jamie scoffed out a humourless chuckle and so in turn, Matty scowled, flicking the remnants of his fag ash out before turning to place the glare on the man.

“Yeah, as in on a scale from one to fucking ten, how pissed is she?”

With a heavy inhale- as though the question had been oh so demanding- Jamie looked up at the cloudy sky before eventually trailing his eyes back down again. “I don’t know.” Matty shook his head irritably, but Jamie just continued on, “But what I do know is that she’s messed up over it. Almost as bad as you, from the looks of it.”

And didn’t that just have Matty’s mind going down in a tailspin. He balled a hand up against his right thigh, letting his nails bite into the skin of his palm whilst his unblinking eyes casted themselves out onto the foggy sky rise of London.

A short scuffle sounded and then Jamie was sitting in the chair beside him, though he’d seemingly had the foresight to wipe it dry first. “Look, mate, it’s bad. But if you’ve done nothing wrong, then it’s something you can fix.”

“Nothing wrong?” Matty scoffed, the tick of his jaw keeping him from taking another drag of his cigarette. “Everything I do is wrong, man.” He let his head drop into his hand at that, the tremble of it more prominent now than it had ever been, “I can’t fix it, J. How can I? The fuck would I even start?”

The chill of the city air crawled up over the thin tee that covered Matty's shoulders, wrapping him up in it, but he could hardly feel a thing past the blur of thoughts that crowded the inside of his mind. Still, he shivered, jumping ever so slightly when Jamie’s hand came to settle on the top of his neck.

“Matty, listen to me.”

And that didn't help.

“All I’ve been doing is fucking listening! Listened to Hann, listened to pissin' Ross. Listened when they said not to go charging over there, to give her time, to give her fucking space! But they were wrong. If-” Matty hissed, rubbing at the sting that had settled behind his eyes, rubbing them raw, “If only I could explain! If I could just talk to her. I only want to make sure that she’s alright. To see her for myself.”

The breath of Jamie’s next sigh got swept up in the wind but Matty felt it all the same, but then the man’s hand tightened its hold on his shoulder and he felt Jamie dip his head in a gentle nod.

“I’ll work something out, yeah?”

And with those five words Matty’s head was snapping up, watery eyes honed in on his managers ageing face as though it held all the fucking hope in the world. And at that moment it fucking felt as though it did. Or it could have done.

“Yeah? Don’t fucking say it and then fall through on me, J. I can’t deal with that shit right now.” Matty told the man almost desperately, chest rising and falling aimlessly as he stared back at him.

Jamie simply chuckled, bracing himself with a smile. “When have I ever fallen through on you lot?”

[kitybur]

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐲

⌦ in which a deadly virus, caused by an unknown drug starts to spread and mutate into a deadly form. a life spent of fearing for your life, killing, and suffering. enemies and friendships made along the way, until you find one man, who changed it all.

— warnings: swearing, gn!reader, zombies, murder, guns/knifes, mature themes, mention of drugs

| quackity apocalypse au!! buckle up! |

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

at the start of it all, you thought it was just a silly news report about another person who had overdosed in your city. it was a well known fact, and often brought up on television to inform people how bad drugs can be for you.

you would scoff as you turned off the tv in a fit of annoyance and go back to making your dinner. it was just like every other day. you went to bed that night, warm under the sheets as you sipped on your glass of water just before you turned off the bedside light and shut your eyes.

what you didn’t expect was to be woken up by your phone going hay wire beside you. the sound of alarms blaring into your ear jolted you awake. the sound of gunfire had you on your toes in seconds.

with a quick peak out the window, the red and grey look covered your vision and clouded your mind. you didn’t understand, who would? a knock on your door had you tearing your eyes from the scene, and slowly backing up. you reached the door, opening it cautiously only for it be be pushed open forcefully.

“what the hell?” you yelled, stumbling back from impact. “tommy?”

there stood none other then your neighbour tommy, who looked out of breath and terrified. he swiftly shut your door, and made sure both locks were secure. he then moved to the windows, shutting the blinds and curtains.

“tommy, what the hell is going on?” he wiped the back of his hand on his forehead, then wiped it on his infamous red and white shirt.

“go pack a bag, and pack some food. we gotta move!” he spurred out. it was a scene to see tommy so scared and so serious. it took a lot for him to be that way, ever since you babysat him as a kid he was always so happy and carefree.

“w-what? why?” you could wrap your head around what he was trying to tell you. instead of answering, he pushed your shoulders and turned you around into your room. he grabbed a backpack hung up on the back of your door and shoved it in your hands.

you didn’t bother asking anymore questions, instead, doing as he told and packing anything you thought you’d need. you made your way to the kitchen and packed food, knifes, anything you could get your hands on.

you also took into liberty to change out of your pj’s and into some more comfortable, suitable clothes. you grabbed your sneakers and pushed them on your heels. you sighed and moved your hair out of your face, turning to tommy.

“now, can you please tell me what is going on?” he looked at you, then at his feet, then back to you. you could tell he didn’t want to worry you too much.

“well.. the science people said there’s a new virus going around. a deadly one. it’s wild.”

“science people?” you raised an eyebrow at him, you felt like you were talking to a wall. tommy shook his head.

“i have a friend, not far from here who can help us.” he stuck out his hand, waiting for you to take it. you hesitated for a moment. a deadly virus?

reluctantly, you took his hand. adjusting the bag on your shoulders you let tommy lead you out the door and to your car. he immediately gets in the passenger seat and throws his bag in the back, along with a blanket you didn’t even see him pick up.

you, more casually, do the same. putting the vehicle in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. tommy points to the left, to which you turn the wheel too.

“so, where are we going exactly?” you asked. the car was silent other than for both the heavy breaths from the two. tommy was fiddling with a walkie talkie that you had gotten him and tubbo for christmas.

he didn’t answer for a moment and instead, static came from the walkie. you peered over at tommy, he look so out of place, so confused. he was a teenager after all. a teenager who shouldn’t be so scared about the world ending.

when the quietness almost seem to be to much, a voice came from the walkie. “hello? tommy? tommy, are you there?” it was a males voice, he sounded older than tommy. was this the guy he was talking about?

“charlie! it’s so good to hear your voice, man!” tommy laughed to himself. you couldn’t help but smile. “we’re on our way. tell alex we’ll be arriving shortly.” they talked for mere more seconds before ending the chat.

“charlie? alex?” you asked, dumbfounded. tommy chuckled, giving you more directions.

“charlie is an old friend of mine. we use to play video games together a lot.” he paused. “he’s with alex who is the friend we’re going too. he knows how to keep a group safe, we’ll be safe there.” he nods at his own words.

you believe him. you have trust in tommy’s friends and you have trust in tommy. if he thinks it’s safe so do you.

“okay.” you take a breath. “are they teenagers?” you had to ask. although you agreed, you weren’t being ran by a teenager. tommy let out even more of a chuckle, slamming his hand against his knee like it was the funniest joke you ever told. “what?” you asked, confused why he was choking on his cough.

“sorry! s-sorry!” he laughs again, sipping his eyes. “how do you not know who they are?” you raised your shoulders, shrugging. “oh you’re serious.”

“tommy, just tell me. please!” you urge, still confused and lost. tommy shrugged.

“i use to do minecraft videos with them.. remember? you played with us? you and alex hit it off well.”

you thought back for a moment, and then it came to you. you had joined tommy in a modded mc world with his two friends, slime and quackity. quackity and you had flirted to entire recording but never exchange numbers or socials.

you widened your eyes. “i’m going to stay with a bunch of minecraft streamers? and they’re going to keep me safe?”

keeping a grip on the stirring wheel, you could tell you were in for a lot when you arrived. having to worry about boys who play minecraft for a living, while the world is ending.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

a/n: bad ending, but I wanted to post something 😭

[gatabella]

How Ava Gardner Saved Carrie Fisher’s Life

On the afternoon that Debbie Reynolds married her third husband Richard Hamlett in 1984, Carrie Fisher called her mom from London to wish her well and apologize for not being at the wedding, explaining that she wasn’t feeling well. Carrie (to her great credit) was always honest about her addiction issues and struggles with bipolar disorder, but at the time she was going through a difficult period at the end of her brief marriage to singer Paul Simon and trying to hide her problems from her mother. Debbie, however, sensed that something was wrong and when she tried to call Carrie back and she didn’t answer the phone, she panicked. Debbie then called the hotel’s front desk and asked if they’d go to Carrie’s room and check on her, but they refused, not believing they were actually speaking to Debbie Reynolds. “It was close to one in the morning in London, and somehow I had to save my daughter. Who did I know there who could help? Frantic, I asked the concierge, ‘Would you go to Carrie’s room if Ava Gardner came to the hotel and went with you?’ In the moment of silence it took him to process this and agree, I prayed that my good friend would be true to her reputation, still awake in the wee hours and sipping champagne at home. Thank goodness she was. ‘I’ll sure as hell take care of it,’ Ava said when I explained the situation to her. Ava had handled everyone from Frank Sinatra to bullfighters in Spain. I was confident one London concierge would be no match for her. Ava rushed to the St. James Hotel the instant after we’d first spoken. When she and the manager opened the door to Carrie’s room, they found my daughter asleep on the floor, all of her clothes still on, including her shoes. The television was playing and all the windows were open, chilling the room. Ava called a doctor, who gave Carrie the medical treatment she needed. Carrie had not overdosed, although she had taken many more pills than a person should. Ava stayed with Carrie until she was sure she was out of danger. In our last phone call, many hours later, I thanked Ava for taking care of Carrie and making sure she was safe. I knew that words could never express how grateful I truly was. I trusted that my dear friend would understand.”

-from Unsinkable: A Memoir by Debbie Reynolds and Dorian Hannaway, William Morrow (2013)

[sgiandubh]

Mordor says He returned only for Visa reasons. They did some math and understood that Sam had been there for almost 90 days, só It was time for a quick walk home.

Dear Visa Anon,

Which Mordor luminary came with this idea? The MENSA-level CRT Clique or Miss Marple, who thinks I know nothing (the Dimwit from Madrid is still learning how to spell, so I can't believe it's her)?

Regardless. These people should immediately stop watching Ninety-Day Fiancé on their cable network, following a severe overdose on Uzbek midgets and Egyptian gigolos 'looking for true love' stories.

Maybe they could also have checked their facts before solemnly stating bullshit, since they clearly think all the visitors to the wonderful U S of A are tourists and as such, entitled to a maximum 90-day stay at a time (and then a short hike to Tijuana or Canada and back on tracks: not EDI/GLA, FFS!).

Incidentally, may I remind these geniuses that S has been spotted only near EDI, which of course would mean for them he'd be getting his visa there. Unless...

Unless you know the US General Consulate in EDI does not issue any type of visas - LOL, idiots. And unless he'd need to be in LHR for the pre-appointed interview and then another 7 working days delay for processing and 1-3 working days for passport delivery by mail only (never in person, chickadees). Doesn't really click with timelines, Madam Expert.

Because they are all very intelligent, they also forgot everything about/never bothered to look for the new-ish ESTA system (https://www.handyvisas.com/esta-us-visa/british/), especially designed for Visa Waiver countries' citizens. So I insist: if traveling as a tourist, S does not need a visa to enter the US for up to 90 days - that is correct, but by no means applicable to S's reality. And if he knew he'd need to stay more than 90 days, he would have applied for a visa - mandatory - in London before the Summer of Sassenach tour.

But he is not traveling as a tourist and very probably not under another type of non-immigrant visa, simply because he has businesses there and he is also involved in the OL project with *** (d'oh!).

Let's unpack:

As per US current regulations, S cannot apply for a B-1 (business non immigrant visa). To understand why, kindly refer to the US Customs and Border Protection FAQ (https://www.cbp.gov/sites/default/files/documents/B-1%20permissible%20activities.pdf). I already munched it up for you:

He could only apply for a O-1 B immigration visa, for which his agent or employer should mandatorily petition the US Citizenship and Immigration Services. These are special visas designed for the individual who (...) has a demonstrated record of extraordinary achievement in the motion picture or television industry and has been recognized nationally or internationally for those achievements. This is very subjective and a contract with * should be enough - I was in a taxi when I received your ask and immediately checked with a friend from the US Consulate, to indulge you. And all this hassle just because a Tumblr Nobody has flatulent opinions, huh?

According to the USCIS's own regulations, not Dutch fantasy or Belfast sagas, the authorized period of stay and possibility of extension are as follows (https://www.uscis.gov/working-in-the-united-states/temporary-workers/o-1-visa-individuals-with-extraordinary-ability-or-achievement):

The good thing about getting this visa (and I think * sorted it out a long time ago for both of them) is that it helps tremendously with the Green Card procedures, something I bet the farm both S & C already have, by now.

So doing the maths was perfectly inane and useless.

Does that answer your question, clever Anon? Can I go back to the Quaich post I must finish (it will be VERY long, beware) today?

Thanks for asking and I am sorry for the length: this fandom being paranoid, I had to include all the tedious details. I hope we can put this idiocy to rest, now. Parochial twits.

[wistfulwatcher]

"at least natalie's death was narratively satisfyin—"

no. it wasn't. they gave us a character who has struggled with addiction her whole life. struggled with self-harm in a variety of forms. who has felt lost and guilty for the last twenty-five years. a character who has been suicidal multiple times in the past, a character who was literally suicidal a week ago.

and you killed her a day after she started to actually, truly try to heal.

yes, this show has always been dark. yes, from the first moment of the entire series we knew these girls committed unspeakable violence on one another, and did so ritually. yes, we knew that the adult versions of these characters spent the last twenty-five years struggling with their guilt and shame and trauma, and were doing it very, very poorly.

all of this just shows that the story has been in their struggle. this has been—or at least it was initially sold as—a show about women and their trauma. a show about women who don’t know how to examine their trauma, don’t know how to process it. who can’t take more than small glances at what happened, but who can also never, ever forget that it’s there. this has been a show about women who are coping, most times poorly, but very, very realistically.

and there was so much hope in that, despite (or because) this is such a dark show. these women can screw up and struggle and be real people—which women never get to be on television—and still maybe, they can heal bit by bit. there was always an inherent hope in this story, because they were all still, as adults, trying to make a life for themselves even if they were muddling through it.

in season two, natalie starts to heal at the retreat. (apparently—i personally found her 180 between "qui" and "burial" highly suspect and very poorly executed, but that's a moot point now.) she spends most of the season struggling against lottie, but finally accepts lottie's therapy (thanks to lisa) and beginning with "burial" she keeps trying to get the girls to talk about what happened. she figures out what she needs to move forward—to finally, truly address what happened in the wilderness by talking about it. that becomes her goal, and her focus with the others.

but natalie doesn't get to talk about anything. the girls want to drink instead of talk in "burial". and in "it chooses," the second nat suggests they talk, lottie shuts her down and suggests they drink poison instead. natalie is sober, and trying to do what she thinks she is supposed to do by confronting her trauma. she has made all of the "right" choices to actually heal from her pain, but she never gets to.

natalie’s entire story line, set up in her very introduction in the pilot, is to find her purpose. she talks about her self-destructive behaviors being due to her lack of one, and makes it clear that she intends to find that purpose once she leaves therapy. thus, for natalie’s story to be narratively satisfying, her story needs to end with her finding that purpose, right? which means that, if we are to treat this as a narratively satisfying ending, then natalie physically sacrificing her life for lisa is supposed to be that purpose. 

but death is not a purpose. and, to portray it as such for a character who has tried to commit suicide is, honestly, disgusting to me. especially for a character who was saved—again, a week ago—from her attempt by the very woman who then encourages her to drink poison that is used to "put animals out of their misery". who is then told in her death vision to “let the wilderness in” (when "the wilderness" has been a pretty clear metaphor for trauma!!!). they spent all season telling a suicidal character to suddenly let go and give in and stop resisting in a narrative that leads to her “””finding purpose””” in her fucking death. not to mention letting that death be recorded as "an overdose" after she has been explicitly sober as part of her growth!!

a far, far more narratively satisfying path for natalie is for her to actually find a purpose that is consistent with the hunter-protector she’s always been described as. in “no compass” tai says that natalie is the reason they all made it out of the wilderness. (again, wilderness as a metaphor for trauma!) so why, on earth would the better story line, the more consistent story line, the more satisfying story line—especially when this show is all about parallels and cycles repeating—not be natalie leading them all out of “the wilderness” by helping them process the trauma? by getting them all to talk about it?

(i didn’t necessarily need or expect yellowjackets to give a truly “good” message or resolution—bittersweet would be plenty for me—but can you imagine the beauty of that story? the character who has felt nothing but pain and guilt, who has been alone for the majority of her life, who has never felt good and stable love, being the one to break through the trauma first? the one who finally learns to heal first, and protects them all once again by leading them through the wilderness? a story of a woman supporting women through trauma that only they can understand?)

instead natalie's story goes from struggling with her pain and guilt, to trying to find some purpose in her life, to losing that purpose and attempting suicide, to being saved and actually starting to address her trauma head-on. and then dying before she can. i'm sure there are some people who believe that this is character growth (the briefest moment of addressing her trauma), but it wasn't; her growth is blunted by her death.

and this makes her death both tragic and unsatisfying. a character who struggles so hard and so long, who finally, finally sees a light, and the moment she reaches for it, is shifted back to where she was a week ago, having never gotten to actually grow.

so no, just because i am personally devastated by nat's death does not mean that i am blind to the narrative; quite the opposite. i am furious both as a fan of the character and a fan of the story. i feel deceived, disappointed, and insulted by every single part of this story. i feel like we were all cheated out of what could have been a beautiful exploration of a complex and fascinating character. and on top of all that i am very, very hurt.

[exy-conspiracies]

Okay so. This might be pushing it but. In light of everything that happened recently.

Was Seth Gordon's death actually an accident?

as a reminder, because I know most people didn't care about the Foxes until a few weeks ago: Seth Gordon was part of the Foxes' lineup at the beginning of this year as a striker. he died not long after the beginning of the season, apparently from an overdose.

I know this sounds crazy okay? But. Hear me out.

The final last week was fucking wild, and I don't care what you guys saw at home, but I was there at Edgar Allan and I fucking saw Riko trying to murder Neil!! With my own two eyes!!!

And I think we all remember when Kevin decided to just go "I've never been skying" on live television, while implying it was (1) the Ravens' fault and (2) done on purpose (!!).

I know we never got an answer as to what actually happened, and honestly now that Riko is dead I don't think we ever will. (cause you know, don't speak ill of the dead and everything) (i will be speaking ill of the dead here, consider yourselves warned)

but honestly. after last week? I think I've got a pretty good idea what happened.

and that's without even getting into the complete, messy, foggy situation around Jean Moreau.

So, I know this is technically its own theory, but my mind is already made on this, so that's not what I actually want to offer for consideration.

My point is:

At the beginning of the year, Kevin and Riko saw each other again for the first time in public (maybe at all?) since Kevin left the Ravens. Neil was a complete ass to Riko's face (which makes a lot more sens in hindsight).

and like the next day a Fox was dead.

Is that a coincidence???

are we ready to argue it's a coincidence, after everything we've learned?

Riko looses the championship and tries to murder Neil. Kevin is a better striker than Riko so Riko breaks his hand (allegedly).

that sounds like exactly the kind of person that would try to get back at someone insulting him on live TV (and keeping him from Kevin, now that I know, it's so obvious what Neil was doing). and since Neil is untouchable, cause, you know, gangster father, he goes after another one of the Foxes.

I know it sounds crazy okay? I'm only half convinced myself. hurting someone in anger is different from premeditating a fucking overdose.

(or did Riko just go batshit on him and then they somehow managed to disguise it as an overdose??? i feel like that's even crazier)

and like, Seth had an history of drugs and overdoses. as the media reminded us at length when he died. so it's not like him dying from an overdose is suspicious in itself.

But the timing!

the timing is hella suspicious is what i'm saying.

Anyway, I'm sending this anonymously cause Ravens' fans are fucking insane, but please tell me what you think of this!!

.

[3wishesgenie]

Obsessed with the Insane

#dark content #murder

Being the average cliche housewife tending to your husband everyday he gets off. You’ve been married for a while and have no children yet. But are hoping to have some in the near future when your husband has time for you.

Just taking your empty days and buying whatever you want and cleaning around the house waiting until your husband gets back home from work. His mother sometimes comes by and invites herself in making her “one and only baby” some of his favorite pie (to which he takes to his coworkers).

Today your husband comes home early when you hear him close the car door and you move to wait for him by the door. You greet him when he opens the front door and take his coat, giving him a kiss. That’s when you turn around to ask him about his day after putting his coat on the rack, and you see a kiss mark on his neck.

You knew your husband was cheating on you and you wanted to ignore it because you actually love him for him not just his money which is actually surprising for people in your situation. You’ve asked him about his department lead and if they had anything going on to which he lied.

This is what ended up driving you mad in all this alone time you had you could make thorough plans to get your husband back. He was supposed to go on a trip next week luckily she wasn’t going to be there to have your husband.

That’s when you carry out your plan a few days after you husband had arrived in Maryland for this work trip you called that night to check on him before changing out of your clothes into something dark , grabbing the gun and knife you’d brought because you took your husband you needed it for “self defense” even though not even the fbi could get into your house.

You set out to her house to catch her sleeping on her couch to which you broke into the front door, going into her house just like you’ve seen on television. Once you're in front of her on the couch you wake her up by firing the gun off into the end of it. 

Once she's awake you hold the knife to her neck making her take fentanyl laced pills and slitting her throat and choking her until she finally takes her last breath. Walking out of the house you get into your car taking off your gloves. Smiling to yourself about what you’ve just done.

The week has passed and it’s gotten out that she was found dead in her home from overdose and blood loss. Your husband seems hurt but he’ll get over it eventually now that he can finally enjoy what he’s married. Everyday after you ended her life was great for you, your husband finally gave you a child you’ve moved and he’s gotten a promotion and you’ve put all the negative behind you. But little do you know there’s another mistress lurking and she’s crazier than you.

[whim-prone-pirate]

they might have genuinely been drunk and high and over-caffeinated and overdosing when writing the nero and sporus scene because i'm rewatching it and what the FUCK was the point of it if not the most insane declaration of deep homosexual love ever displayed on television

[calabria-mediterranea]

Dalida - The Beloved European Singer’s Calabrian Roots

Although she became famous worldwide as Dalida, she was born Iolanda Cristina Gigliotti in Cairo, Kingdom of Egypt, on 17 January 1933.

What is Dalida's Calabrian connection? Her father Pietro Gigliotti (1904–1945) and mother Filomena Giuseppina (née d’Alba; 1904–1971) were born in Serrastretta, Calabria, in Italy. Pietro studied music in school and played violin in taverns; Giuseppina was a seamstress.

Dalida was born in Egypt after her parents settled there, a move they made so that her father could pursue his career as a concert violinist.

By birth, Dalida automatically gained Italian nationality through jus sanguinis of both Italian parents.

Dalida singing the traditional Calabrian song "Calabrisella mia" (translation: "My sweet Calabrian girl") with actor John Dorelly on Italian national television:

She and her parents have maintained a strong bond with their roots over time, not only emotional, but also cultural and bureaucratic.

Dalida, in fact, even after moving to France, maintained her Italian citizenship and became French, with dual citizenship, only with her marriage to Lucien Morisse in 1961.

Dalida's visit to that small mountain town in Calabria, where her parents were born, Serrastretta, was unforgettable.

The singer decided to include an extra charity concert date in Catanzaro in her Italian tour, precisely to travel for the first time to the town that was the birthplace of her loved ones. Here she visited the house where her parents lived before moving to Egypt:

And she also met her cousins and her great-aunt who was still alive, played the tambourine and embraces the football team that bears his name.

The much idolized Dalida, the first woman to win the Platinum Record and for whom the Diamond Record was created, took to the stage of the Municipal Theatre of Serrastretta. All the newspapers talked about it. And at the moment of her departure from Sant'Eufemia station (modern Lamezia Terme), the tears flowed freely, so much so that a few days before the end of the tour, Dalida wrote to the mayor.

A shot that immortalizes Dalida's visit to the mountain village of Serrastretta, photographed next to the then mayor, Menotti Mancuso (1962)

«I would like to express to you again all the joy I felt in getting to know my family's town - wrote Dalida following a visit to Serrastretta in the 1960s -, and thank you for the warm and enthusiastic welcome you gave me. I will never forget the emotion I felt in finding myself among all of you and I ask you to pass on, both to my cousins and to all the inhabitants of Serrastretta, the thanks that come from the bottom of my heart."

Dalida in Calabria in 1962, photographed by Ezio Arcuri, upon arrival at the Sant'Eufemia Lamezia station (reportage archive)

Dalida spent her early years in Egypt’s bustling Italian Egyptian community but she lived most of her adult life in France.

Beloved singer both in Italy and France, unforgettable queen of the Paris Olympia, during her career she sold over 170 million albums all over the world, also earning the first diamond record in history in 1981, created specifically for her.

Away from the spotlight, however, many great sorrows accompanied his life, which was interrupted - at the age of 54 - on 3 May 1987 by an overdose of barbiturates. «La vie m'est unbearable. Pardonnez moi/Forgive me, life is unbearable for me" wrote Dalida in her farewell note, found on the bedside table of her bedroom, in the villa at number 11 bis Rue d'Orchampt in Montmartre.

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[wonderlandleighleigh]

The cooking show in ‘78 is a big hit, which doesn’t really surprise Midge, much. She’s always been a whiz in the kitchen, and she’s funny as hell on top of that, and so the combination of her quick humor and delicious food winds up being an irresistible one-two punch.

Susie is happy, too. It’s keeping Midge in the public eye without having to send her on tour. Abe isn’t doing all that great now that Rose is gone, and the kids are a fucking mess, apparently, with Esther’s genius starting to make her life much harder, and Ethan is still trying to decide whether he wants to do his rabbinical studies here in the states or in Israel.

Shit’s nuts, in short.

But the show is fun. It’s low stakes, and every once in a while they have a celebrity guest come on to make one of their own dishes. Gordon Ford came on once for a steak au poivre recipe where he just hit on Midge the entire time. It made for good TV, but Midge left set annoyed as fuck and the two women drank their way through a couple of bottles of wine that night.

Shy Baldwin came on for an episode to make paella and Midge makes lots of jokes about Jewish people and shellfish, while Shy complains about the fact that when he does cooking shows everyone wants him to make fried chicken.

“My fried chicken is terrible,” he laughs. “I gave Reggie salmonella once.”

Midge laughs at that. “You did not!”

“I did! He’s never let me live it down!”

It’s a great episode, two old friends who have mended a long-broken fence giggling their way through a half hour of television, talking about the tour in 1960, and having a frank discussion about Shy’s coming out the year before. Shit gets rave reviews TV Guide, and even Variety picks up a blurb about the two’s warmth and effervescence on screen.

Susie is happy.

“I booked Lenny Bruce for next week.”

Susie is less happy.

“Mike!” she snaps. “What the fuck?! Seriously!? She hasn’t spoken to him since his overdose in ‘66!”

Mike blinks. “I thought they were friends.”

“Before he fucked his life, yeah,” Susie tells him. “They haven’t spoken in years.”

“Do they hate each other?” Mike asks. “Should I cancel?”

Susie blows out a breath and thinks for a moment. Midge doesn’t hate Lenny. Quite the opposite. They just...never got it together. “Let me talk to her. See what she wants.”

“The guy’s been clean since he almost kicked it,” Mike shrugs. “And he’s mostly working behind the scenes producing documentaries these days. I thought it’d be a nice ‘hello, old friend’ kind of episode.”

Susie squeezes her eyes shut. “Just...lemme take her temperature on it.”

*****

“Oh.”

Susie observes her oldest friend quietly as the comedian absorbs the information. Her eyes look sad and wistful for just a moment before she takes a breath and sits up straight.

“It’ll be fine,” Midge says. “It’ll be...nice. To see him.”

Susie eyes her suspiciously. “Will it?”

“I uh...yeah,” Midge nods. “I think the last time we spoke, we ran into each other at a Grammy party he stopped in at right after he got clean. He was...it was nice.”

Susie sighs softly. She likes Lenny. She, too, has run into him here and there, and since getting his shit together and winning his appeal, he’s been good. He was downright sweet the last time, buying Susie a drink. Thanking her for trying to drag his dumb ass out of that hole he was in.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if Lenny wound up being husband number five.

“Okay, then. Lenny is on next week,” Susie confirms.

*****

He gets to set a little early to prep, and say hello. He’s quiet now, which Midge finds strange, but he’s clearly happy to be there. They share a friendly peck in greeting and then the work starts.

Susie hovers, whether to keep an eye on him or to keep an eye on her, Midge doesn’t know, but they run through what they’re doing (chicken soup - she can’t believe she hasn’t made it on the show yet), and the director does his usual shpeil, explaining how things work, where to look, where to stand.

Once the cameras are rolling, that old chemistry comes roaring back like a tidal wave. Their banter is fast and funny, and they laugh together. They shamelessly flirt, and Lenny drives her nuts by adding too much chili powder to the soup.

“You like spicy food,” he accuses.

“But chicken soup isn’t a spicy dish, Lenny.”

“Why not? We’re adults. We’re not committing murder. We can make spicy chicken soup.”

It goes off the rails from there, and suddenly they’re adding an entire jalapeno to the soup, and Lenny goads her into doing a party trick she’d mentioned to him long ago; eating an entire hot pepper without incident, which she does. 

They eat the soup, and declare it delicious, surprisingly, with all the spice.

They end the episode with their arms wrapped around each other, and Lenny laughing and trying to avoid her spicy breath as she giggles her way through the outro of the show. Once she gets out her “thank you and goodnight!” she turns to him and huffs in his face, making him jerk back, still laughing.

Susie can’t remember the last time Midge lit up so much with anyone other than Susie herself. It looks good on her, and since her mother died, she’s been down.

“You still out in LA?” Susie asks him as he’s getting ready to leave.

“I just moved back,” Lenny admits. “There are three docs shooting here in the next year I’m working on, and I’ve been asked to be more active, so I got a little place.”

Midge hears and perks up, but doesn’t say anything.

“Well...don’t be a stranger, then,” Susie tells him, patting his arm as she walks off, leaving the two comics to talk, though listening as she goes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were moving back?” Midge asks.

“We don’t talk very much anymore, I didn’t think you’d care to know,” Lenny offers helplessly.

“You’re so dumb,” she accuses. “Of course I care to know. We should throw you a housewarming party.”

“No.”

“Lenny.”

He sighs heavily, as unable to say no to her as Susie is. “Fine.”

Susie smirks and heads for the offices to get a bead on last week’s ratings.

*****

After that, Lenny guests on the show once a month, and even when he’s not there, Midge brings him leftovers. 

END

[candiedspit]

Gorilla Mask

As Nina does my makeup–swivels the contour and punches the blush onto my cheeks, a star, she says, I’m gonna make you a star, don’t you worry baby you’ll knock ‘em dead, you see–I smoke a cigarette and check the time. I’ve got half an hour before the curtains split apart like the legs of a wonderful, beautiful slut. I imagine the audience packed into velvet seats, dressed in cocktail dresses and the suit he plans to be buried in. A Tuesday evening. While my manager insisted on Friday night, I insisted on the opposite. When is the best time to be transported? When you least expect it. After an eight-hour shift at some metal box downtown, moving papers and pushing phone calls. I know my people. I know what they need. 

Nervous? Nina asks, meeting my gaze in the vanity. You’re quiet. 

I shake my head. 

I fuck up, I go home, I say. And that’s the end of it. 

This is my first show in twenty three years. Last time I was on a stage, I was a young golden cat that people rubbed for luck. I could sing God to sleep. I feared nothing and wanted everything. Once, I kissed a girl for the first time twice. 

But that’s the hard part, right? Nina asks. Going home?

I laugh a dry laugh. 

That is true. That is always true. 

At the height of what you could call my career–that never ending totem pole, that white flash of light in which I saw nothing but mercury and moon shrapnel, I wrapped my limo around a city block. And that began the descent into capsules and deadbeat girlfriends. I broke my neck in the accident. Then, the pain pills began to taste like dust. And I needed something stronger to tether myself to the earth. 

It was always a good day when I was high. I could spend seven hours staring at the ceiling and it would feel as though I’d gone on Space Mountain a billion times. I had a sitting heart rate of one hundred and twenty three. I still did shows though they were more like human zoo exhibits. The public came to watch me die. I slurred through old gospels. I fainted during an encore. Once, I gave up. I sat on the stage unmoving and someone had to come remove me. After I went to rehab for the first time, I stopped doing shows. It was only supposed to be a year off. But I couldn’t stop going back. I got into all sorts of things. I huffed paint to watch the wall turn blue. I did coke off of someone’s wedding ring during the wedding recital. I chased some kids down the block for ten dollars. 

Elaine left. And I moved to Memphis. I sat on the back porch smoking heroin, noticing the light ooze through the leaves and feeling every breath in my chest. And I tried again. And tried three more times. I went to a rehab in California where they served lobster rolls and where you had to soak in a hot tub for forty five minutes each evening. I went to a rehab in New York where you could see the skyline pressed against the dark coils of night and the nurses wore short skirts. I went to a rehab in Paris where I beat a lawyer at connect four three times in a row and couldn’t figure out the shower head. Then, I overdosed in South Dakota while visiting some cousins; thin, bare chested men who shoot pistols with one eye closed and drink moonshine for lunch. I died for an hour; saw nothing but a few abstract, pink lines. The rehab I was sent to there was the one that did it. Nothing glamorous. A cold turkey sandwich at noon. Librium in the mornings. After detox, you’re on your own. Gotta change the sheets. Gotta clean the bathrooms. Gotta set the tables. No television after nine. No phone calls in the morning. I was already old by then. And nobody knew my name anymore. What the hell is following the rules for a while? I called my mother halfway through my stay there, after a lunch of fried chicken with plenty of nerve and gallons of black tea. I told her where I was, and what happened. How I couldn’t apologize. 

Are you sorry? She asked. 

I could see her standing in the kitchen, backed into a slant of light, arms crossed. 

If you’re sorry, you won’t do it again. When you get out, you’ll know. So, we’ll see. 

Mama, I can’t do it again.

We’ll see, she said.

And hung up. I knew she was right. I had to be good. It wasn’t enough to want to be good. I had to be out there, doing good in the daylight. When I got out, I didn’t go back to the cousins. I went to Memphis and started going to meetings and church. I didn’t know what to believe but it needed to be huge, crucial. A giant cock to rub. A pleasure to be had. I read scripture on nights I couldn’t sleep. After months of this safety walk, the songs came. I was with my sister Diana; a spoiled eggnog of a girl, ten years younger than I am but we’re wired in the same ways. I can read her mind. I’d know her heart from look alone. It was summertime and we were at the fair together. It was the first time since getting out that I felt safe to be among the others, the extraterrestrials made of crazy glue and fireworks. 

And we were on the Ferris wheel, a thousand feet above the ground, everybody like throngs of specks of dirt below us, the stars as close as they’d ever been. I got a melody in my head like a buzzing gnat. And started singing. Diana stared as I sang, the words mush but the melody there. And we celebrated when I quieted down. I didn’t think I’d ever write another song again. 

But there it was–the massive, throbbing thing to believe in.