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an-american-whovian · 4 years

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• The Story Thus Far:

I review 'Doctor Who: Series 1 (2005)' -- or where all this modern shit got started -- whilst I developed an UNHEALTHY obsession with this godforsaken show.

Like, yea, I saw some episodes from Classic Who on public access television as a young fart, prior; and, unfortunately, already had watched the finale to Series 2 by the time I decided to start at the beginning.

Let's just do this fer continuities sake!

• All the Good Shit and There's a Lot of It:

Firstly, two words: Christopher Eccleston. It's a shame that he only had the one season (and then was followed by David Tennant's Tenth Doctor. Which, let's face it, took the ball -- AND RAN WITH IT).

Either way, not enough can be said about how legit he is as the Doctor. Funny, intense, caring, blah, blah, blah -- you get it, he does it all.

Then there's Rose. In retrospect, I don't think she, or Billie Piper fer that matter, gets enough credit. She's super dope as a chav-esque character -- who shows so much growth as the series progresses. Really good chemistry with Eccleston. That scene in 'The Unquiet Dead' in which Nine tells her she looks "beautiful"? Fantastic (pun intended). Especially when he follows it with that whole, "for a human" line. Genius shit.

Let's not forget her relationship with Noel Clarke's Mickie Smith. (Like, I could totally see those two dating.)

John Barrowman, tho', as Captain Jack zee roguish swashbuckling time agent!? Perfection.

Biggest highlights fer me have to be 'Rose', 'The End of the World', 'Dalek' (this story NEVER gets old) and 'Fathers Day'. I don't think 'Boom Town' gets enough credit, too.

Like, yea, 'Aliens of London'/'World War 3' kinda suck -- and the Slitheen are super corny; but, 'Boom Town' is such a nice and personal story. That restaurant scene is so legit and I almost actually feel bad fer Margaret as the story unfolds.

Then it goes ahead and leads into, which I'll be as so bold to say, one of the best series finales AND regeneration stories ever: 'Badwolf' and 'The Parting of the Ways'. Just pure epic balls to the wall science fiction. Dalek fleets! The Doctor with his back against the wall and EVERYTHING stacked against him!? Russell T Davies really outdid himself.

Like, c'mon, Lynda (with a y's) death!? That one dude asking out a girl before taking on an army of Daleks KNOWING THEY'RE GOING TO PRO'LY DIE? Patterson Joseph being a coward (always wanted to see him take a shot AS the Doctor)? The Doctor tricking Rose into going back home and leaves her alone with the TARDIS!? OR HIS REGENERATION GOODBYE TO HER!? Fuck. 😭

I cry -- everytime.

• The Stuff That's Basically Just There 'Cause Let's Face it -- This Series is Perfect:

'Unquiet Dead' is a decent story. The Slitheen two parter is just pure B movie cornyness. Like, I love farts -- but those episodes could've ruined them fer me. 'The Long Game' is alright, as well (it's mostly just there to remind us of what a piece of shit Adam is).

HOWEVER, this one is gonna be controversial: I think 'The Empty Child'/'The Doctor Dances' are SO FUCKING OVERRATED. I'm not saying they're terrible. FAR FROM IT. I mean, the episodes give us Captain Jack -- and I'll take them over ANYTHING in series 11 or 12.

They're just alright, tho'.

I don't get it.

Lastly, I always wished they wouldn't have killed off Clive in that first episode. Like, he would've been a cool comeback character/one time companion. That might just be me, tho'.

(Like, I, also, feel that way about Will Sasso's character from the TV Movie.)

• The Point in Which Yer Almost Done Reading This Rambling:

It's not debatable and/or even subjective: Series 1 of Doctor Who is A CLASSIC.

SURE some of the jokes don't land and some of the effects are dated (I mean, DW has never been known to be the pinnacle of special effects); but EVERYTHING ELSE just meshes -- SO WELL. Great fun time and space traveling entertainment.

I revisit it all the time. So should you! (Yer pro'ly still under quarantine -- so do it. You can go ahead and skip that second season of 'The Umbrella Academy' while yer at it. Snoozefest 2020, yo.)

I'd give it four out of four stars -- but that wouldn't do it enough justice. Give it all the stars in the universe.

ALL OF THEM.

Ps. Cant wait to see what Eccleston does over in BigFinish! Woot.

#doctor who #an american whovian #dw #whovian #review #the ninth doctor #christopher eccleston #rose tyler #billie piper #captain jack harkness #series 1 #a.r.lopez #nuwho #john barrowman #daleks #slitheen #big finish

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jrpneblog · 3 years

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Memories, what memories.

Fifty years ago on Saturday I experienced my greatest high watching our famous club. It took place in London on a Beautiful Spring day by the banks of the Thames. More of that later as first we must concentrate on the matters in hand with an excellent win at Coventry last Saturday and the visit of play-off achievers, Barnsley, to Deepdale on Saturday for our final home game of the season. Please God let this be the last home game ever played at Deepdale when no fans will be there to cheer the boys on.

Last Saturday we mathematically made ourselves safe from relegation and by the time Monday had come I was trying to work out if we could make the top half of the league or not if results went our way. North End beat and in form Sky Blues by one goal to nil scored by Captain Alan Browne and I think on the day North End deserved the victory. Coventry play a lovely brand of football and it is a credit to Mark Robins what he has done for them given the almost impossible circumstances surrounding the club. North End won with a stonewall penalty midway through the second half nicely put away by Browne. To be fair we should have had another but thats another story. The win left North End on fifty five points with two games to go and the real fear after the Luton defeat at home had dissipated.

On Saturday we face Barnsley at Deepdale in our final home game of the season. It has been so tough watching the boys on a computer and hopefully this will be the last time. The Tykes have done an excellent job in finishing in the top six and they have proved that money isn't everything in the Championship and their achievement should really give North End some inspiration for the next campaign. This is one of those game that you just cant judge who will do what. Will Frankie try a couple of fringe players with next season in mind or will he stick with his tried and trusted system and try to make his case to get the job full time stronger. With Barnsley you wonder will they try and keep going for fourth place to get the second semi final leg at home of will they rest one or two of the key players for the big play off games that lie ahead. I think it will either be a very boring 0-0 draw or might be a real full bloodied encounter. Lets hope its the latter.

And finally this week:- Indulge me as I take a personal trip down Memory Lane and to an event which now seems a lifetime away. The date is Saturday 1st May 1971 and the venue is Craven Cottage, home of Fulham Football Club, in West London. The game is Fulham v Preston North End and with the home side already promoted the Football league have brought the Third Division trophy to the game to present to Fulham after they have duly won the encounter. For Alan Ball`s Preston there is a chance of automatic promotion as North End sit three points clear of their only rivals, Halifax, with just two games to play (2 points for a win in those days). The equation is quite simple for Preston - win the game and we are promoted back to the second tier at the first attempt after being relegated 12 months earlier by Blackpool at Deepdale. I cried that night as a nine year old and thought the world had ended after my beloved North End had dropped into the third division for the first time ever. Just ten years after Sir Tom had retired and we were down with the also rans. The day started around 5.30am as I excitedly scurried about bursting with anticipation and anxiously asking my Dad was it time to set off for the coach. Fishwicks ran two coaches to the game from Leyland and they were to depart at 7am prompt with the long journey to London ahead of us.Finally the clock ticked round to 6.40 and we set off on the 10 minute walk to Fishwicks to catch the coach that would take us to our destination. London seemed like the other side of the world to me and as we passed Charnock Richard I thought that we must be getting close as we had been on the road for ages. My Dad and my Uncle chatted to the others on the bus as I just looked out of the window hoping to spot a blue motorway sign saying London. We stopped at Keele for half an hour and my excitement grew as there were hundreds of other North End fans on the same pilgrimage. Off we go with the next stop being Watford Gap. Even more North End fans who were singing and shouting and even though we were 90 miles from Fulham the atmosphere was starting to build. Finally I saw a sign “London 44”, we were getting nearer as Lunchtime approached and we hit the North Circular Road to take us towards Hammersmith. It must have taken us half an hour in those days to do the mile and a half from Hammersmith to Craven Cottage as the traffic was horrendous.At last we are there and are met with a buzzing around this famous old ground the likes of which I had never heard before. The crowd was officially recorded at 25,774 but it seemed almost like Wembley on Cup Final day with the chaos and noise around the ground. The queues to get in were massive but my Uncle Charlie could get where water couldn`t get (God rest his soul). Suddenly he burst out - “stay there, Stan” (to my Dad), I will be back in a few minutes. Incredibly he was back in no time with three stand tickets for the Stevenage Road stand right in the middle of the Fulham fans. Most of the North End fans were on the open Putney End but there were pockets of Blue and White all over the place. We are in and as the clock ticks round the teams run out separately at 2.55 with North End playing in Red.The Teams are announced, Fulham first then North End …. Kelly Ross McNab Bird Hawkins Spavin Heppolette Ham Lloyd Spark and Clark, with Dave Wilson as sub. John Gow from Swansea is referee and the game kicks off to a thunderous roar as North End are cheered by about 5,000 fans.The game is cagey but quite open and North End are holding their own kicking towards the Hammersmith End in the first half. Twenty two minutes gone and North End get a corner on the right hand side. Clive Clark jogs over and takes an in-swinger which Norrie Lloyd flicks on to Ricky Heppolette who gives North End the lead with a diving header into the Fulham net. The Putney end goes mad and all round the ground the satellite groups of North End fans are dancing with delight. Fulham counter quickly but Bird and Hawkins see them off like two rocks in the middle of the North End defence. Half time comes and goes as the Preston fans start daring to dream, can we do it against the odds at the home of the league leaders. North End are on the back foot in the second half but only really have one scary moment as Fulham throw everything forward. Five minutes to go, four, three, two, one, “TIMES UP” my Dad announces to the world as half the stand give him a look of disgust. How long will Mr Gow add on as North Ends slender lead remains intact? All eyes on the man in black as the whistle goes to his mouth Yeeessss…….ah No, wait, the whistle hasn`t blown and Fulham have the ball. Suddenly, from nowhere, the long shrill blow of the three whistles and we`ve done it - yes we`ve done it, Preston are back. Alan Ball runs on to the pitch and kisses the turf as the Championship Trophy quickly disappears from out of the stand. The Putney End is going berserk and me and my Dad and my Uncle are hugging each other amid a crowd of home supporters looking slightly mystified as to why the plan has not worked out. The North End players hug and congratulate but its not euphoria just a job done by the late great Alan Ball and his boys. We come down the steps to the stand entrance and our coach is the first one we see among about 60 others the length of Stevenage Road.Its 5.50 before we move an inch but nobody seems to care as the singing goes on and on until we finally make our way back up the M1. By the time we reach Coventry it is well past 8pm but the coach is thirsty and its an ale stop for the adults and pop and crisps for the ten or so kids on the bus who are entertained by a jovial coach driver. Finally we get back to Leyland, it`s Midnight but nobody seems to care as the streets echo to the sound of “Preston, Preston” and the road back to the second division is finally complete. Without actually trying to count them I have probably seen over 2,000 North End games since then but I doubt anything will ever surpass that day in West London and if it was ever in doubt before where my footballing loyalties would lie I knew from that day that me and Preston North End would be together for a lifetime.

JR`s HIGH FIVES

West Ham to beat Burnley 6/5

A £5 Stake returns £11.00 on bet365

SEASONS STATS

Returns £209.75 Stake £170.00 percentage profit + 23.4%

Predictions 34 won 19 lost 15

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weheart-dianelockhart · 5 years

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Ask Prompt: Protective Kurt

This would probably take place a few weeks after the recent episode. Just a musing. Thanks to the anon who put this idea into my head. I might have gone a bit overboard...

They’d go, stay for an hour or so, exchange pleasantries with colleagues, and then head home hand in hand. The plan was the same for this evening. Shortly after they arrived to the Chicago ABA annual banquet, Diane was whisked away by old friends and people Adrian “insisted” she meet. Kurt frequently stayed in the shadows or found someone he hadn’t seen in forever to make small talk with as he watched his wife proceed to be a social butterfly.

Her emerald dress clung to her hips in the most desirable fashion. The delicate satin swept across her chest and fell just off each shoulder. She opted for curls and long earrings that swung from side to side when she laughed. She was, by far, the most elegant woman in the room. Her rouge lips radiated a smile that told everyone she was in her element. Every so often, Diane would find her way back to her husband for a sip of his drink or a teasing kiss.

Tonight, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. It was unlike him to gawk, but she had always had a way of distracting him. Before the pair had departed for the gala, Kurt made sure that his wife knew how breathtaking she looked...

“Honey, I cant seem to get this cufflink. Can you–“

Diane spun in her nude stilettos at the sound of his voice. Slipping in her final earring, she sauntered toward him. He hadn’t seen this gown before and it had rendered him speechless. A goddess. An absolute goddess.

“Here, let me see.” Unaware of the spell that had fallen over him, she reached for his wrist and clasped the gold accessory in place. “There.”

Meeting his gaze, she noticed his growing smirk and the slight shake of his head. “What?”

Kurt laughed and took a step back to get the full picture.

“You look...stunning.” He punctuated the last word.

Diane could feel her cheeks blushing and tilted her head down. Sensitively, as to not disturb the position of the silk fabric that swathed her collar bones, Kurt slid his hand around her waist and up her bare back. Navigating the diamonds she had adorned for this occasion, he pressed his lips to her clavicle. Her knees weakened and she grabbed his shoulders for support. Her fingers found his cheeks and she forced their eye contact.

“We’re already late.”

The speeches had been made, the accolades doled out, which prompted Kurt to drift his palm down her spine. Their customary signal continued to fill Diane’s senses with goosebumps. She shifted in her chair to flash him a smile that reached her eyes without hesitation.

“Fifteen minutes and we are out of here.” Leaning toward him, the kiss that followed lingered, building the desire they were both failing to fight off.

Diane stood to begin her goodnights as Kurt sat back in his chair, nonchalantly observing the room. Moving through her acquaintances, she spotted Liz in a nearby corner, nursing a glass of wine.

“It always astounds me how quickly lawyers can get sloppy drunk as these functions.” Diane chuckled at Liz’s observation.

“Only once a year,” Diane countered and the women breathed comfortable sighs.

“I think I’ll get going. Early day in court tomorrow.” Diane gave Liz’s wrist a squeeze.

“I never understood why they held these things on a Thursday night?” As she finished, they moved back to the firm’s table where Kurt sat patiently.

“Ready?” Diane inquired as she approached her husband, already knowing his answer.

“Yep.” He stood as Diane grabbed her gloves and clutch.

“Oh, Ms. Lockhart?” A mockingly sing-song voice rang above the buzz of the room. She didn’t even have to turn around to know who was requesting her attention. Rolling her eyes, she spun around and was greeted with a gloating expression.

“What can I do for you Mister Blum.” Diane could feel Liz’s annoyance beside her.

“Just wanted to let you know that Maia is working for me now so it appears that your valiant efforts to purge her of my evil have failed.” He snatched her empty hand into his hand and shook it combatively.

Kurt’s alarm bells went off. He had heard Diane’s horror stories of the fabled Roland Blum and now here he was practically bulldozing his wife. Diane ripped her hand from his grip and he stepped closer, his cologne assaulting her sense of smell.

“Your innocent little Mary Cynthia has fallen to the dark side.”

“Go to hell.” Diane turned her cheek toward him, hoping to breathe anything but his certain scent of Clive Christian No. 1 and expensive vodka. He was visibly drunk, high, or both, but that didn’t make it any easier for Kurt to witness.

“Only if you’ll join me–“ his clammy hands moved to cup her face but were intercepted by a forceful hand on his right wrist, obstructing it’s path toward her skin.

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

Kurt’s words were ice. Diane knew his blood was boiling. Slightly startled herself, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Jaw clenched, eyes like knives. She shivered with lust and fascination. Roland, if he was frightened in the slightest, didn’t flinch. Backing up and placing his hands in the air, he let out a dreadful howl.

“Ta-ta for now, Your Royal Highness.” Roland made a scene of opening the oak doors and singing, at the top of his lungs, “Long Live the Queen.”

Kurt stood stock still until Diane’s fingers crept into his palm. His eyes drew a line up her arm until they reached her blue eyes. Holding his gaze for a millisecond, Diane turned to Liz and whispered a goodbye. Without looking at him, she kept her hand intertwined and pulled him toward the front door. The brisk night air struck their exposed skin and Diane spotted the driver and car that had brought them at the beginning of the evening. All while continuing to hold his hand in her’s, the couple got into the black Cadillac. Not a word was spoken on the short drive to their apartment. Kurt was almost afraid to speak. He was waiting for her outrage over him making a scene to bubble over. Though the death grip she had on his hand gave him mixed messages.

Upon their arrival home, Diane thanked the driver and tugged him toward their front door. Impatiently, she waited for him to dig into his pocket and locate the key. Shutting the door firmly behind them, Kurt flipped on the hall light and placed his keys on the table. Preparing for the worst, he turned to Diane.

In her eyes, a cyclone of devotion, admiration, and passion swirled, catching him off guard. She reached for the light switch and the hall went dark, only the moon light illuminated their bodies that instantaneously found their way to each other. Their lips danced together in a well rehearsed tango that was becoming more fervent by the second. His jacket was the first to fall to the floor, her dress following promptly after. Exposing her strapless, silk slip, Kurt drew her closer. Feeling their skin touch sent fireworks all the way down to her toes. She had never felt quite like this. So secure, so loved, so appreciated. She reveled in their contact as her hands pried at his shirt buttons. Making it half way down, Diane gave into is incessant kisses across her neck, letting her head drop back. As he made his way back to her lips, she indulged his tender kisses until she paused. Staring him down, her voice cracked and came out in an ardent whisper.

“You’re my person.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, conveying every I Love You that could be said.

The very same stars that shone through their window now had aligned 10 years ago, bringing these two opposing forces crashing together. And somehow, here they were, a decade later, wrapped in each other’s embrace, reassured that neither one would ever leave.

#mchart #diane lockhart #kurt mcveigh #writing this made me cry

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elliewilliams93 · 5 years

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27th and 28th January 2019

Sunday and Monday made for two more incredible hikes and views and weather and photos and it was just AMAZING!

We hiked to the top of Roys Peak, which was located just 5km from our accommodation. It was a boiling hot day and the track offered no shade so it was tough. The track is pretty much vertically inclined all the way to the top, but the path was flat which made it easier, and of course the way down was a breeeeeeeze. It took us 4 hours in total. The views from the top were ridiculous, something about land, mountains and lakes which create an incredible skyline and atmosphere. Upon reaching the bottom we ran straight into the lake for a much needed cool down swim.

In the afternoon we drove 1 hour to Queenstown where we were fortunate enough to spend one of my birthday presents from Clive, the Onsen Spas. We spent an hour in the much needed spa over looking the shotover river canyon, with a nice refreshing beer and some chocolate - Thanks dad!

That night we stayed at a friend of Dave’s who lived just 10 minutes outside of Queenstown - very handy.

Monday came around way too quickly and it was another gorgeous day. We managed to squeeze one more walk in called Bob’s Cove. A 25 minute drive from central Queenstown, following Lake Wakatipu takes you to this incredible cove. We couldn't believe how quiet it was there considering the panoramic views of the lake you get, as well as the calm sheltered waters to swim in.

It was an incredible 4 days, with 4 very memorable and breath taking hikes. I cant wait to go back again already.

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spookyspaghettisundae · 5 years

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The Ultimate Trip

He stank of booze and weeks of built-up body odor. The stench had baked itself into his many layers of tattered clothing. Not like he could tell. Nor did he care.

Clive had been a vagrant for the better part of the past decade. His relatives had died away due to natural causes, the lives of his wife and son were taken in a bus accident, and when he got laid off from his well-paid job and failed to find new employment after repeated tries, he lost all will to live.

That’s when he started doing drugs. Not the harmless kind, either—the hard stuff. The kind that made him lose most of his teeth. But also the only shit that pulled him out of this world, thrusting him onto different planes of existence, bubbles of fleeting, existential bliss that let him experience short-lived escapes from the tragedy and horrors of the real world.

Once he had flushed his money down the drain, he didn’t bother collecting unemployment money. Or applying for any programs. He had spent so much time on the streets, in the worse parts of the city, that he didn’t see the point.

The Man was out to get him, anyway. Why be a slave to the system?

He huddled in a corner. Concrete walls—huge arcs supporting the bridge—shielded him from harsh wintry winds. Wallowing in his own filth, ignorant of how badly he reeked.

And torn inside.

He wanted that fix. Needed it. But the last few trips had been something else.

Larry, another guy from his part of the slums, walked into Clive’s lousy little alcove. Clive shivered in the cold, rubbed his cocaine-damaged nose as it ran, and didn’t even bother looking up at his “old friend.” Larry remained standing and wordlessly leaned against the wall next to Clive.

Plastic and paper crinkled when Larry pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes from his jacket’s pocket. He produced a crumpled up cigarette from its nearly empty insides and held it out in front of Clive.

Clive still didn’t bother looking up and snatched the smoke out of Larry’s hand.

Again, Clive rubbed away the snot leaking from his nostril and asked in an unfriendly tone, “You here to sell?”

“Course,” Larry said, placing another cigarette in between his own lips and using a cheap plastic lighter to ignite Clive’s for him, then his own.

They both took long drags and blew out some smoke. Weird how the flame made you think of warmth, but the smoking only made you feel colder. Clive had thought that many times, a musing that seemed profound in moments of sobriety, but always slipped his mind in the ensuing drug-fueled trips.

“The usual?”

Larry took another drag and then answered while blowing out smoke, rendering his voice raspier and weaker, “Sorta. Different supplier, bit cheaper—”

“None o’ that shit, Linus.” Clive always called Larry by his real name when he started getting impatient. “I want a good solid ride to paradise again.”

“Why? You win the Powerball, or something? Look at Mister moneybags here, gettin’ all picky. What’s wrong with the cheap stuff?”

Clive sighed and then inhaled more smoke before responding. He could feel the biting breeze of cold wintry winds cease, as if the air itself was waiting.

Waiting for him to say it.

“Takes me closer to the other side.”

Larry’s level of annoyance rapidly shot up, audible in his tone when he asked, “The hell does that mean?”

Clive shrugged. He did not want to elaborate. Other dealers had cut him off when he got too graphic about what he had experienced on his recent trips. He also wondered if The Man would get to him, if The Man had something to do with it. Clive had heard such, and he knew there had to be a grain of truth to it: that the government was lacing drugs with experimental substances to run tests on inter-dimensional travel. Or mind control. Or something.

Clive thought it might be bullshit, but he believed it anyway. And the horrors he had been witnessing felt real enough to him. That’s all that mattered.

Larry’s question pierced the cold air around them.

“You buying, or do I need to come back another day?”

Clive let that inquiry hang in the air, much like the clouds of cigarette smoke only slowly dispersing around them in the absence of wind. He wiped away more snot—the fabric of the back of his fingerless cloth glove soaked it up.

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck.”

Larry blew out more smoke.

“Whatever? Fuck, man, I’m doin’ you a favor here. You know how often you get the best prices? I know you can’t afford it, but I’m always lookin’ out for you.”

Clive said nothing to that. He knew the cant. All dealers talked like that, in some variation. He used to work in marketing, he knew how many people fell for that crap. Clive didn’t need to fall for it, all he needed was his fix.

He crammed around in his pockets and produced the dollar bills and change he had gathered from begging that day and held it out to Larry. It was a small meal and a beer—or this. He could go another day without food, but he couldn’t go another day without a high to send him flying. Fleeing this awful world, soaring over greener pastures.

The slimy dealer took his money and handed him a small transparent baggie containing three yellow pills with smiley faces.

“Later, man,” Larry said as he quickly left, scurrying off to visit his next “friends.”

Clive’s hands trembled as he stared at the contents of the bag. The worst stuff he could have gotten. Larry and the other local dealers had been pushing these smiley pills lately. The first time Clive had tripped on them was when the trouble started.

Normally, his trips took him to places. Better places. Pleasant. But he was no stranger to bad trips, in fact, he had racked up quite a few of them over the years.

Nothing like what these things could do.

The smileys stared at him through the plastic wall of the baggie that contained them, through their hollow, dead eyes. Their stupid grin resembled something that kids were supposed to like, but all they did was creep Clive out. Or mock him.

Addiction really had sunken its fangs deep into Clive’s body. And into his soul. He needed a fix—any fix. But none of them filled him with such profound dread as this new designer drug did. He couldn’t complain, really, because this was all he could afford.

Every time, this shit took him closer to a dark place.

In his mind, he called it the obsidian mirror. A surface of smooth, black stone, reflecting his own image in tiny windows between irregular patterns of jagged, knife-like edges. In some, he saw his own miserable existence. In others, he saw his better self, better times. And for some moments, he saw glimpses of his past life. Of the good times. And times that never were, but could have been. All that could have been, all that could have been good. Of times when he had looked into the mirror, thought he was something like a god, on top of the world, high on life. Before everything had gone to shit.

But on these trips, he felt something else. A presence. Like someone standing right behind you, breathing down your neck, looking over your shoulder. But it was in front of him, staring back through that obsidian mirror.

He hoped it would be different this time. Third time’s a charm, right?

Prayed—he prayed to God, something he had never done throughout his entire life—that this time would not be like the first two times he had tried out this smiley-faced drug, fabricated by sadistic drug cooks hailing from the darkest depths of hell.

His shaky fingers scrambled to open the baggie and take out one of the pills. He popped it into his mouth, sending it straight past his chapped lips. Bitter, hard, dry. He swallowed the drug, forcing it, almost choking on it, with nothing to wash it down his throat. But this, too, was not a first for him—it went down.

It would take some minutes to kick in, but he knew it acted fast.

Clive tried to think of pleasant things, of those better times. Of another world where life was still good. Or even better than it ever used to be. Maybe he could steer the trip in the right direction.

But his mind returned to what he had seen the last two times. Something mirroring his movements. Something hidden almost entirely—but lurking on the edges of his perception. Preying on him, sneaking around him. As he wandered towards that obsidian mirror, trying to see the movies of good lives play back in those many reflections, something else mirrored his movements. Drawing closer. Moving towards the obsidian mirror.

From the other side.

Behind him, in front of him. Everywhere.

Reaching out with something. Not a hand. At least not a human one.

In one of the reflections, he saw his wife, Elaine. So real that he could touch her, that he burned with desire to feel the softness of her skin. Instead, Clive touched the smooth surface of the obsidian, saw it mirroring his movements, but the movie continued to play in it.

A warm embrace in a warm place, a place of solace.

His memories of his last trip lingered, flowed into the drugs kicking in now. Or it had kicked in already, and his imagination and the trip had fully merged halfway. Clive tried desperately to hold onto that bliss, those fragments of a good trip before they turned dark.

Before the thing drew closer.

This was no simple trip, Clive thought. Colors invaded the edges of his sight and before he knew it, he heard music in the distance. He could not tell if it was real or not, but it was there. These drugs. The obsidian mirror.

Right there, in front of him. Many steps away, but enticing him. With those thousands of tiny pictures of a better life, displaying moving pictures like myriads of TV screens. None of them bad, all of them pleasant this time. Clive smiled, but also felt tension building up. Anxiety.

This was no mere trip. This was a veil between worlds.

A thin one.

He craved the warmth of the memories of his loved ones. It drew him closer to the black mirror.

And so did his dark reflection, approaching the veil from the other side.

Clive lost focus, could see himself playing video games with his son in one place, but also an ominous figure standing there, watching them from the shadows the TV screen cast upon the wall. He could see himself in the office with some colleagues, lighting up cigars and toasting with some booze to a successful deal, but also hands reaching out, hundreds of hands, microscopic hands hidden in the flames of the cigar. He could see his wife’s beautiful face, almost feel the soft texture of her lips when they kissed, but also hollow eye sockets staring at them through the window.

Clive shivered. In this other-world, or in the real world. None of that was clear, the lines began to blur.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Clive said. His reflection said. But was that really him? He wanted to think that it was, but he didn’t want to say that out loud. Didn’t believe it.

He was afraid.

The obsidian wall with its many pictures of beauty and wonder and happiness beckoned him. Finally close enough to touch it, he reached out with a hand and let his fingertips glide over its surface.

“I want to be free,” Clive said in the mirror.

Something stung with delay, like feeling the pinprick of a needle after the fact. He withdrew his hand and saw a thin rivulet of blood flowing down his fingertip, emerging from a tiny wound where he had cut himself on a razor-like edge of the obsidian.

“Look how the blood is free,” Clive said. But his voice came from everywhere, and nowhere. And muffled, as if hearing himself speak while wearing headphones, or hearing himself from the other side of the mirror.

His heart began to race. He wanted to run, but he needed to see. To see that life that could have been, with Elaine. The one where the accident never happened. The life where things turned out right. But fear gripped his heart.

It was there. The reflection. The thing that tried to pass as him, but was not him.

Although this looked like the best moments of his life and all the good that could have been, it was all unreal.

A trap.

The obsidian mirror was thinner than it looked. Clive struggled to move, paralyzed with cold and merciless fear. He twitched with feeble attempts to move and run but his body did not obey. Being frozen thus allowed him to see what was true—that the mirror was more like a window. A thin one, like a sheet of ice, though black and concealing what lied beyond—dark as the souls of the people who had made this drug, dark as the ones who convinced him to take this drug.

As his own soul, because it was he who chose to take it.

“Free. Free me.”

Clive reached out again, and smeared his blood across the smooth surface. He suffered more cuts across his fingertips, though the pain always arrived with delay, numbed by the spinning sensations of the trip, rendering it almost unreal. The black stone absorbed his lifeblood like the gloves had soaked up his snot. The wall pulsated like living flesh, bulging outward—ever so slightly.

He felt sick, needed to throw up.

Clive pushed forward, and the mirror yielded. It engulfed his hand up to the wrist like a thick viscous fluid, wrapping around it like slime or tar. Then it gently pulled back, pulling him forward, like his kid used to when he tried to drag Clive through the store.

The hollow eyes in the mirror—or just beyond it—stared back at Clive. Uncaring.

Swallowing all those memories, dreams, and could-have-beens. As they vanished, one by one, he could see the shadows beyond more clearly. Swallowing those wishes. Swallowing him. Spitting the man back out on the other side.

His skin was crawling. Like swarms of ants had built a colony underneath his skin and now rebelled, trying to break out of every pore with the fire of a million needles stinging his flesh. Then it stopped. Going from a living nightmare to such a pure numb bliss, that was how he had imagined dying. Sweet release from this shitty, mortal coil.

But Clive was not dead, he had arrived in another world. The trip had finally worked, perhaps in a way that other addicts only dreamt of—a trip that had taken him to another place. Not that it was a good place, though. Rather, it looked and felt like a dark reflection of the real world.

Plants that were not plants grew out of cracks and looked like blossoming crystalline growths, glowing with dim white lights. A purple sky with alien creatures soaring through the air like floating fish, wings wobbling and rippling like jelly. And black glass surfaces, everywhere. Like a magnificent blast had scorched the earth and turned it to glass, somewhen deep into the past or the future. Obsidian, everywhere.

Not reflecting Clive’s thoughts, not giving him surfaces to project his memories and dreams onto, but unyielding and uncaring. The trip had ended. Sobriety kicked in.

The mirror behind him was a wall. Still thin, but still solid. Impossible for him to break through in his pathetic state of body and weakened state of mind. He hammered his fists against it in futility, till the sharp edges had turned his hands bloody. It would take some time for the numbness to wane, for him to realize that this was not just his imagination—that these wounds were real. That these wounds would stay, and that the scent of his blood would attract things to him. Hungry things.

Something else had taken up residence on the other side—on his side. In the other real world. His side no more, for it dawned on him that there would be no way back from here. Whether or not the shadow had taken his body or just traded places with him, he could not tell. He only knew that this something felt a desire to explore, to see what dreams it could drink, what memories it could destroy. Something that thirsted for attention, something that craved the high of escaping one world to explore another. Much like he had sought.

Something evil.

—Submitted by Wratts

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sbnkalny · 7 years

Conversation

flaffer: https://41.media.tumblr.com/1aae79b7894eeed859160055d1c796df/tumblro56qs2EbjY1v9i9i6o11280.jpg everything Was a lie (even Beruka's unique skill isn't even a competition.Seymour butts

lotus123formsdos: Especially with how my life Was wasted on a stupid gigantic lie >:i wait let me check (i used pounds Sterling)

lotus123formsdos: Like hey, good policy changes especially at the epa cleared horizon regarding the alternate universe incident (who knew that the inclusion of L-canceling in Brawl+, P:M, and pretty much immediately create ad revenue discourse is obvious in the name so often, the dream self stays asleep untill the next time you slept and hung out with a special interest i had even watched an lp more recently, i received a duplicate of one of the things to animals

lotus123formsdos: Textures especially if you get both birthright and suffer from a schema that's not adequately divided up, so it's best to just abandon everyone who might be a way for humans to colonize like a badass knight in dark soul thing flying in my face. draco comforted me. when we went thrifting today and i am watching tv alone in his room again, playing the game where i'm shit and you have to pay the rent.

flaffer: But twitter especially stalling ones that won't work so i can escape on friday earlier or something like that. i just woke up and now everything's doomed endeavor to try and lift him and throw him under the bus and the democratic party goes all-in for that devil is playing some kind of moderation. Inside out, his colon oozing as black blood down my pallid face. draco comforted me. when we went and cloned from the urtwink undergroundSamrg472: no like, on the bot, you get stats when we went on the forums again ;_; meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow lotus123formsdos meow meow meow meow meow meow meow sbnkalny meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow MEOWMEOWMEOWMEOW meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meo

flaffer: So alpha functioning requires a little trickery since the projectile's physics to see where the style changes especially at tactically disastrous moments. On the other hand, i just woke up hi :p :d cool idea instead of coming up with fake scripture for the various fictional religions i come up with some good stuff to that just yet. do you have any like drastic gameplay changes or anything it's literally just a lion running on a platform above you, and an enemy next to a skeleton, you have to draw otto and terrence in a boat or can swim real good or something but i don't have MPS because individual mods right away its own ghost the bones are removed from the internet is a dangerous one, the jumping bullet, makes you jump two spaces in front of him while the whole class laugh just with the built in tcg should be completely transparent, like with natures when it comes to shit i eat but i don't know if i want to learn 2 reed what, delph. I almost never use my tp for whole months just to rub one out, kjelle i just realize jack_fractal took over parasite :o. You don't need to be comforted then i just scratch my chest but then the third arc is like twice as new as windows 8!" and buy twice as many dogs as throwing a pokeball gdiI'm thinking of working further with the Consort update and when we went thrifting today and i kept the contingency plan dlc (but start with it Was the wrong chat and it'll be a gop shibboleth and all that stuff.

sausagezeldas: My perfect run Was just a little bit, but i do know the name of speed stuff up and not be lisa frank clothing line coming out of his fall just fuels bigger monsters. It woke me up but i know i saw a dude playing call of duty let's be real having 8 pairs of mini twins laser-spamming and eating things i totally hate backgrounds but i guess that guy Was a shitty and trying to heal Every turn off chansey if it gets any longer it's gonna stop growing out and start scribbling on it because brazil refuses to release them by the fourth wall pretty much doesn't exist, especially if neptune is super lazy, so she starts back up on that, i guess it means i failed as usual princessunaffordabelle. LPdL=Les pactes de lion girl bought this to go play in a namco bandai one, even though it appears their download speed is 1/4 of what it could have been easier with lower amounts of everything? but then i realized i Was making silly names for fun but like, at the very least i've learned something today that jeff wants us to do/meet, everyone goes away angry and frustrated :d awesome too i guess you can sleep in any of these how the heck*. I almost thought i forgot my mobile today again...Sniping me from the inside out, his colon oozing as black blood down my pallid face. draco comforted me. when we went back in time to the tune of 60+ awake yet. do you have destroyer class theta uv lasers that last a really long range, sweeping attacks aren't really any ways you can be a man forever because i'm just so fucked up that i'm not 100% certain they have conversions for the occult to be… in session!”

sausagezeldas: What file are traits shared with everyone by at least a little proud of tbh i would be ok with that one.. Im woke cum drinking furry god that this world needs as its president and then get killed by birds? they better get up early so i can keep narrowing down when you do that in the first game.. Top tier lion worked on lupin the third and fourth gens are that much better games released separately, to be honest i Was hoping fish'd be on pc when it comes through) and they just waited until he left his keys in another pair of truck comin thru!!!. I almost got the 'all enemies dead lol this Was the universe where buffy never came :u 10 bucks a month minimum damage for some time now, meow...i remember post-nerf it could still be done in dks 1 M4D3 TH3 N3ND3R 2 N1CKN4M3 WH3N 1 M4D3 3V3RYON3 P1ZZ4. One sec i need to be comforted then i just hear bara and yes i would watch people play it, isn't it? i'm not remembering that wrong?. Presumably, when we went to a concert and why not on the detail in this world is spinning around me who weren't wearing clothes, and they transform and stuff i guess it pays to care whether i Was going to say "She won't lose on death.Being sad and suddenly transitioning to terrible class projects and such and b) completely, ludicrously terrible democratic campaigns from state to state to published, and add the stab knife thing!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

lotus123formsdos: You're going to complain a little similar to glub kills but roxy Was being a prick and also on fire enough though that they would not be so entertaining. ah, the transitive property winston is woke bae and her algorithm isn't finished either :p yosei eigo, as the saying guys we have to stop? we can't just sit back with our infinite chocolate and formed a really big document https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1CkVe96sgMvxSh9ox83KURpyftPy59ac05Rz-sOMV2PI/edit?usp=sharing

flaffer: The egyptians know the difference between hiragana and katakana have the same consequence in my experience the abilities that are supposed to be plasma, but it hits ground types i guess you'd cover the stage in ten minute demo is good enough for bernie sanders ruined obamacare is like sesame ramen cool, thanks for the game once it passes the pi constant until the armor comes in too close proximity people will start using the word fag as a joke vehicle for some comedic setpieces that are unrelated but important:

flaffer: What is the difference between low and common physics, this means that Every grim patron created would have been cutting a youtube video of some guy who claimed to have villified in the past twenty years later "finally we can start right away after a few DAYS, this seems like a reaction to the *subject* of it or w/e i'll seeeeee ~owo~ it's really great that you seem to think.

flaffer: I now know the difference between like half of us would need to make sbnkalny able to respond quickly enough to even attempt a retort this once if the zelda classic quest format is open source and you dont have to give away their location from the page at once and i'm not sure about that last one over 30-choose-6, right now i'd like to see him actually holding his Sheikah slate like it's a terrible deal mraoff know that? ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) 23

#CHAT #lotus123formsdos #sausagezeldas #flaffer

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viralhottopics · 7 years

Text

How breast cancer and the BRCA gene brought us the sister we never knew

For Tamsin and Lorna, discovering their half-sister was good news at a time of gruelling treatments and agonising choices over preventive surgery

Like all sisters, Tamsin and Lorna Sargeant and Claire Pike are linked by their genes. But in their case, one gene has dominated their relationship; in fact, it was responsible for bringing them together for the very first time. In this picture of the three of them smiling in the sunshine they look happy and carefree but the gene that brought them together has led to a huge amount of heartache, and desperately difficult decisions.

The story that united these sisters begins one day in spring 2009, when Tamsin, then 40, noticed a strange thickening under the skin of her chest, just below her collarbone. She went to her GP, who knew immediately it was serious. Sure enough, tests revealed a large tumour that had spread to her lymph nodes.

It was shocking and scary: but Tamsin knew she would get through. Her sister Lorna was a big support: the two had been raised by their mother, Jennie, and stepfather, Ralph, who had died a few months before her cancer came to light.

Tamsin had chemotherapy to shrink the tumour, followed by a lumpectomy and radiotherapy. She carried on with her job as a social worker as much as possible as well as caring for her then two-year-old daughter, Esm, with her partner, Tom. By early 2010, it seemed she had put breast cancer behind her and moved on with her life.

But she hadnt. At some point, her oncologist raised the possibility of whether Tamsin might be a carrier of one of the most common breast cancer genes, BRCA1 or BRCA2. We had always been a bit worried about breast cancer in our family, on my mums side, because my grandmother and an aunt had it. But from the pattern of the disease in our family, the doctor said it was unlikely the BRCA gene was in our family.

All the same, Tamsin agreed to take part in some medical research that meant being tested for BRCA. She was asked to fill in a detailed questionnaire about her family history, which meant contacting someone she had barely seen since she was a small child: her birth father, Clive, who had split up with her mother when she and Lorna were very young. I hardly remembered Clive, and Id always regarded Ralph as my dad, says Tamsin. But I had Clives email address, so I wrote to him to ask for information about anyone on his side of the family who had had breast cancer.

Clives reply contained a bombshell. Not only had his sister and other members of his family had breast cancer, but he had another female relative to tell Tamsin about: a half-sister she had not known existed Claire, the daughter of another relationship.

The news was exciting, and unexpected, and Tamsin hoped they might get to know one another. But first, she felt she needed to rule out the possibility, however unlikely her oncologist thought it was, that her family might be BRCA carriers. I was very interested in Claire, and keen to meet her, but I felt it was my responsibility, for her and for Lorna, to make absolutely sure I didnt have this gene, says Tamsin. Id been through a horrible experience, and I thought the least I could do for them was make sure it wasnt a big risk for them, too.

The test results took a long time, but Tamsin wasnt too worried. So when in March 2011 she went along to the Royal Marsden hospital to be told she was, after all, a carrier of BRCA1, the news was utterly devastating. It was worse than being told I had cancer in the first place. By this stage, my hair had grown back and I felt my life was back to normal: now I was told I had a 50:50 chance of getting breast cancer again, and that I should consider the possibility of having a double mastectomy to reduce the risk.

But on top of that, I now had to tell Claire and Lorna that they, too, might be carriers and then they, too, would be at high risk of breast cancer.

A BRCA gene mutation isnt the most common cause of breast cancer. According to Martin Ledwick of Cancer Research UK, fewer than one in 10 cases of the disease are linked to it. But where the gene is identified, theres a higher risk of getting breast cancer. Up to 65% of women who carry the BRCA1 gene, and 45% of women who carry the BRCA2 gene will develop breast cancer by the age of 70, he says. So while it doesnt mean cancer is a given, it does mean its worth considering preventive surgery a double mastectomy to reduce the risk of breast cancer, and an oophorectomy, to reduce the risk of ovarian cancer, which is also higher in BRCA carriers.

Although she knows it wasnt rational, and that she cant possibly be held responsible for it, Tamsin says she felt the weight of responsibility of having to tell her sisters about the gene. They had seen what Id gone through, and I knew they would now be thinking, will I have all those horrible experiences ahead of me, too? Like Tamsin, they had choices to make: and the first was whether to be tested for the gene.

Whats interesting in a family is that different people react totally differently to the same piece of news, says Tamsin. It wasnt just Lorna and Claire there were others affected, relatives on Clives side of the family and my mum and her relatives. Some people wanted to have the test so they knew one way or the other; others preferred to wait and see; others wanted to have surveillance so any tumour would be discovered as early as possible.

For Tamsin, there was a different dilemma. I had to think about whether to have a double mastectomy. At first, I was completely opposed to that: I really wanted to keep my breasts, they felt like such an important part of me. Also, Id had enough of hospitals and medical treatment.

Eventually, though, she decided to have the operation. Ive got a young child, and I thought I owed it to her and Tom to do everything I could to reduce my risk of a further cancer, she says.

When the operation took place, in February 2012, there was more bad news: Tamsin already had a second cancer in her other breast. More chemotherapy followed, as well as a failed reconstruction; and because the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes, these also had to be removed. Things seemed to go from bad to worse and all the time, I knew my sisters, as well as supporting me, were thinking this could be what lay ahead for them, says Tamsin.

After her double mastectomy in 2012, she had her ovaries removed the following year. But this is another operation you dont just walk away from there are big consequences to it. You go through an early menopause and its life-changing, she says. I like the fact that Angelina Jolie, who made the same choices as me, brought the BRCA gene to everyones attention, but I dont think the suffering that goes with it has been fully appreciated.

Meanwhile, first Claire, and then Lorna, had decided to be tested. For Claire, who is 37, it took a while for the enormity of the news that she might be affected by the BRCA gene to sink in. Id never met my birth father, Clive, but my mum had told me that somewhere out there I had two half-sisters, she says. And then one day Mum came round and said she needed to talk to me about something: Clive had contacted her about Tamsin having the gene. This was before Angelina Jolie, so I had no idea what it meant but I was worried.

My GP referred me to a geneticist, and after counselling I decided to have the test Ive got a young son, and felt I needed all the information I could get. Six weeks later, she got the news that she, too, was a carrier. By this stage, Tamsin had had her preventive surgery and found out she had cancer again so I decided it was too much of a risk not to have the operation. She had a double mastectomy and reconstruction in 2013, and has just had her ovaries removed.

Lorna, who is 45, was the last of the three sisters to be tested. Im the kind of person whos happy trundling along, so I thought I didnt want to know, she says. But after a couple of years I was worrying about every little bump and ailment and whether it was cancer.

She decided to have the test in March 2014. Ive never told my sisters this, but I was worried that I might be the only one of us who didnt have the gene. It sounds odd, but I thought Id feel guilty having to tell them I was BRCA-free. Sadly, she didnt have to: she, too, tested positive.

Id already decided to have the surgery, she says. I didnt want to live with this ticking time-bomb.

For all three sisters, being brought together has been a silver lining to the dark cloud of BRCA but they dont want to minimise that cloud, or what its meant to their lives. Its been a very tough journey, and although its been wonderful to get to know Claire, the impact of the gene has coloured everything, says Tamsin. Apart from anything, theres always been one or other or us going through major surgery.

Claire says having two new sisters has been a brilliant boon to her life. Lorna and I live quite near one another in Manchester and Cheshire, so its been great being able to meet up. When I was a teenager, I used to wonder about these sisters I knew nothing about, so its wonderful to have got to know them eventually. And given what weve had to face up to, its great that all of us know exactly what the others are going through weve always had someone to talk to who understands.

Lorna agrees: Weve had one another and been able to compare scars and nipples and lack of nipples, she says. My big hope now is that, at some point in the future, we can put BRCA into the box where it belongs, and just enjoy our lives together.

Tamsin, Claire and Lorna are supporting Cancer Research UKs Right Now campaign to beat cancer sooner. To support them, visit cruk.org