Beautiful Dorothy Hoogstratten (better known by her stage name Dorothy Stratten) was a shy, awkward teenager when she met Paul Snider, a money hungry hustler who immediately saw the potential for fame in the buxom blonde. Dorothy had struggled with self-esteem issues her entire life, and despite her ethereal looks she did not consider herself worthy enough of a mans attention until Paul Snider came along.
The two fell in love and got married in June 1978, and soon after the wedding Snider persuaded Stratten to pose for nude photos, which he secretly sent off to Playboy magazine. Just a few months later the pair moved to Los Angeles, where Dorothy became a finalist in the Playboy Bunny Hunt competition. She met Hugh Hefner and worked as a dancer in his Playboy Club, and Snider encouraged her to audition for movie roles. To help her get roles, Snider bullied Dorothy into dying her hair peroxide blonde, and forced her to undertake a gruelling diet and exercise regimen. Dorothy’s hard work paid off when she featured as Playboy’s “Playmate of the Month” for August 1979, and she was also voted “Playmate of the year 1980”.
In 1980 Dorothy starred in her first (and only) movie, ‘Galaxina’, where she plays a beautiful robot. At the movie’s first screening, Hugh Hefner pulled Dorothy aside and warned her to keep away from Snider. “He’s a hustler and a pimp. He’s just using you” Hefner reportedly said. Dorothy made the fatal mistake of telling her husband about this remark, and Snider grew even more jealous and paranoid over his beautiful young wife.
Snider began beating Dorothy, flying into rages about the affairs he believed Dorothy must be having. He prohibited her from leaving the house without him, took away her car keys, and would stand next to Dorothy when she talked on the phone. Her friends desperately tried to seek help for her, but Stratten would always blame herself for his behaviour and make excuses for the bruises that were showing up on her body with increasing regularity.
In April 1980 Dorothy fell in love with Peter Bogdanovich, the director of the new film she had scored a lead role in. Snider hired a private detective to spy on her, and when he discovered his wife’s affair he reportedly threatened to kill Dorothy and “ruin that pretty face”. Dorothy and Peter moved in together at his mansion in Beverley Hills, and by August Dorothy had filed for divorce.
On August 14, 1980, Snider rang Dorothy and asked to meet her at his house to talk about an amicable divorce. Dorothy enthusiastically agreed and withdrew $1000 to give to Snider.
What happened next is unclear. Dorothy arrived at Snider’s house around noon, and at some point during the night Snider beat Dorothy and tied her into an elaborate BDSM harness. He violently raped and sodomized her, before shooting her in the face at point-blank range with a 12-gauge shotgun. Snider raped her dead body again, aimed the gun at his head, and committed suicide.
The landlord of the house discovered the two nude bodies the next day. Dorothy was only 20 years old, and Hugh Hefner wrote this about her in an article:
“Dorothy took my breath away. She had this beautiful inner quality about her that was so charming, so innocent, and it touched everything in the room”
Myra by Marcus Harvey - The work measures 9 by 11 feet (2.7 by 3.4 m). At first sight, it resembles a greatly magnified version of a black and white photograph printed in a newspaper. It was made using casts of an infant’s hand to build up a mosaic of black, grey and white handprints, creating a reproduction of the iconic police photograph of serial killer and child murderer Myra Hindley with bouffant peroxide blonde hair taken after her arrest in 1965
• tinie peroxide blonde snapback hs billie
• chubby flash-his-asshole warning era billie
• punk-ass nose ring blond dookie era billie
• soft n tired pre-AI post-network billie
• eyeliner-perfectly-smudged striped red pants 21cb era billie
• tumbled light brown roots and blond ends sleepy cuatro era billie
• nye 2004 chillin’ with snoop dog billie
“You are a disgrace! An absolute disgrace! I cannot believe you let your daughter see you in this condition, Theodore. She was so worried about you! I wish I could say that I’m surprised right now, but honest to god the only thing that surprises me about this is that you’re not in here with some peroxide blonde tramp!”
Theodore rolls his eyes, wincing as his sister-in-law’s shrill screams penetrate his throbbing skull. “Is she still here?” he mumbles, glancing over at the pink haired doll lying crumpled on the floor beside him.
Arabella scowls at him. “Yes. I had planned to take her and Hazel to school early this morning, but she insisted that I come up here to check on you first.”
He nods, and pulling himself up off the ground Theodore silently breezes past Bella and strides down the hallway toward his daughter and her cousin.
“Lila Grace,” Theo forces himself to smile through the piercing pain in his temples. “Go change out of your uniform, sweetheart. You’re not going to school today.”
“What?” the child frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I’m taking the entire day off work so you and I can spend some long overdue father-daughter time together.”
“What?!” three distinct voices reverberate around the corridor.
“No school! No school!” Lila Grace sings over and over again as she dances around her dad’s legs.
“Do I have to go to school, Mom?” Hazel whines.
“Theodore, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Bella hisses, ignoring her daughter’s repeated tugs on the sleeve of her shirt.
“I just have one quick errand to run this morning, Gracie, but after that I promise I am yours for the rest of day. Does that sound like a plan?”
Rewatching Gavin’s Game Time with Burnie, and honestly, everything in it is prime FAHC!Gavin material.
From SMG to Rooster Teeth, it’s like he created two separate personas once he started into a different world.
SMG Gavin is quieter—almost shy—and competent, the consummate professional. He’s young, him and Dan essentially built their empire from the bottom up at an astonishingly young age, but it’s obvious he knows how to be in charge. Gavin and Dan both know their strengths, and they rely on each other for support, but Gavin’s the planner, the one to ensure things go smoothly. They run a two-person operation, and all jobs fall to them. Gavin is the hacker, more comfortable behind the screen, but he also is a frontman. He’s focused on his goal, whether that means sitting in front of a computer for 37 hours straight to verify they have the correct codes for their latest two-person heist, or setting up meetings with potential allies in the hopes of expanding their empire. His job is a projection of their ideals, of their sacrifices to get to where they are, and he refuses to let everything they’ve worked for go to waste.
Not to say he isn’t a total goofball. The boys dance around while they wait for clients and they set off explosions in empty alleys just for shits and giggles. Dan rides his motorcycle too fast through London traffic, spurred on by his B laughing maniacally behind him. They know each other better than they know themselves, and while they are well aware that the other is more than capable of defending themselves, they are insanely overprotective of each other, sometimes to the detriment of themselves.
When Gavin moves to Los Santos as the heir apparent, his new persona is sculpted and cultivated through watching Burnie and Geoff.
Burnie teaches him management, how quality is far superior to quantity, and how trust and loyalty within a gang will lead to a stronger empire than fear and money will. He shows him how to spot a bad deal, and how to retreat when there’s no win in sight. But, most importantly, Burnie fosters the creativity in Gavin, and the confidence to continue on in a city that revels in its blood-stained streets.
Geoff teaches him the ways of a frontman, how to be what people want you to be. He tells him to cherish being underestimated, because it will be all the more sweeter when you see the looks on their faces when they realize they were wrong. He teaches him the importance of remaining calm in a deal, of never showing your hand to the person across the room. As a frontman, you’re unflappable, calm, cool, and collected. It’ll help in tough situations, but, more importantly, it’ll piss them the fuck off. Geoff teaches him to enjoy the finer things in life, while not being afraid to get your hands dirty.
“Expect the unexpected,” he tells Gavin. “There’s never a dull day when you’re in a city as depraved as this one.”
Gavin embraces it. He buys $6000 designer gold sunglasses. He dyes his hair bright, peroxide blond. He gets golden plated guns, cars, and rocket launchers. He becomes the Golden Boy, the bright, shining face of the Fake AH Crew.
Gavin won’t say it isn’t taxing. He has responsibilities—to Geoff and the rest of the FAHC, to Burnie and his associates, to Dan—and sometimes it’s hard to keep it all straight in his head. But this is what he was meant to do, and he’ll do what’s needed. Infiltration, extraction, hacking, he’ll do it all. He put countless years of blood, sweat, and tears to become one of the best in his profession, and he’ll be damned if he lets that go to waste.
There was a man sitting on the couch of Murphy’s living room. He was
wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie with a single stripe
of maroon. His skin was dark—more Mediterranean than African—but his short,
neat sweep of hair was dyed peroxide blond. His eyes were an unsettling color,
somewhere between dark honey and poison ivy, and the sharp angularity of his
nose made me think of a bird of prey.
He didn’t look like a big guy. He
wasn’t heavy with muscle. Neither are cobras. There was plenty of room for a
gun under that expensive suit jacket.
“We’ve coexisted well enough for the past six months. I see no sense in letting frayed tempers put
an end to that now.”
Murphy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Marcone’s top murderer—”
Childs lifted a hand. “Please. Troubleshooter.”
Murphy continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “—doesn’t back down that
quickly, regardless of how survival oriented he is.”
“Will you give me your word on that?” “I already have.” Childs stood up, the motion a portrait of grace. If he was
a mortal, he was deadly fast. Or a ballet dancer. And somehow I didn’t think he
had some Danskins stuffed in his suit’s pockets.
“You should know,” Murphy said quietly, “that my trust issues don’t
change the fact that she’s one of mine. If I think for a second that the outfit has
done any harm to Molly Carpenter, the arrangement is over and we segue directly to the OK Corral. Starting with you.”
Childs turned smoothly on a heel, smiling, and lifted an empty hand to
mime shooting Murphy with his thumb and forefinger. He completed the turn
and left the house.
He might only be in one scene, but damn he makes a good/badass/ominous first impression. I love the way he’s described. I want to know more about him, especially what he’s like when Marcone, Gard and Hendricks are around. Also I’m probably the only one who thinks about stuff like this, but if Karrin had called Kincaid a murderer he wouldn’t have insisted on a euphemism, and knowing that probably made Karrin even more pissed off. If she and Kincaid were still together, she’d totally call him up to get all the details on the guy so that she’d known who/what she was dealing with, but post-Changes she’s alone, and all she can do is throw around a few threats and hope they make a difference.
They’d met for drinks at their usual place, a luxurious, darkly furnished martini bar in on the first floor of the L-Corp building. It was a far cry from the sports bars the boys frequented and the dives Alex preferred. Kara never really felt like she fit in with Lena’s crowd, executives in power suits and their saucy housewives. But Lena never had much time to venture far from work and when she’d told Kara she was her only friend in National City, these Friday night wind-downs had become an integral part of their friendship.
Kara ordered her usual Cosmo and smiled gently at Lena as she sat down.
“Sorry I’m late. Research on a new project got completely derailed. It’s a mess. The team’s a mess.” She chuckled. “I’m a mess.”
Kara grinned. “Well, you’re the most put-together mess I’ve ever seen.” It came out more flirty than she’d intended, but she found herself not wanting to take it back. The resulting blush couldn’t be stopped, however. “Will one mess let another mess buy her a drink?” She recovered and caught the eyes of the waitress who’d been coming their way.
“Whiskey sour,” Lena ordered gratefully and turned her attention back to Kara. “So, Kara Danvers, why are you a mess?”
They chatted about their long work weeks, Lena’s frustration with the media and constant scrutiny, Kara’s terrible boss and desire for more direction and support. Lena offered some advice and Kara offered some support and the topic had finally shifted to the more fun topics of literature and television, of which Lena watched very little.
It was just as Kara was planning a marathon of all her must-see binge-worthy favorites that a look of horror crossed Lena’s usually neutral expression. Her eyes were focused on something over Kara’s shoulder. Kara turned to look at what had spooked Lena so thoroughly before a strong hand clamped over her wrist. “Don’t look, Kara.”
Kara’s head whipped back around and the look on Lena’s face was positively haunted. “Lena, what…?”
“I need you to do something for me and don’t ask any questions.”
1940s gelatin silver photograph of tempting, blonde, B-movie actress Adele Jergens. A seductive and glamorous cheesecake pin-up portrait, Jergens shows off her curvaceous figure in a leopard print bikini. A truly tempting old Hollywood artifact!
Fewer dames were tougher on the 40s and 50s screen than leggy (5'9") “B” star Adele Jergens, the tough-talking, plump-cheeked peroxide blonde who gave her fair share of tawdry trouble in backstage dramas, film noir, crime potboilers, and adventure yarns. She was just as headstrong at trying to bust out of the chorus lines and cheesecake parts to become a topnotch “A” actress draw. She failed in the latter but nevertheless left a respectable Hollywood legacy for the host of hard-as-nails babes that did leave an impression.
Born on November 26, 1917, in Brooklyn New York, the youngest of four to working class Norwegian parents, she was christened Adele Louisa Jurgens (some sources say Jurgenson) and started her youth as a sports-minded tomboy before setting her young teen sights on an entertainment career as a dancer. After years of study (she earned a scholarship) at a Manhattan dance studio and following her graduation from Grover Cleveland High School, the knockout-looking 18-year-old found her way into the Broadway chorus line (billed as Adele Jurgens, her real name) of the Moss Hart/Cole Porter musical “Jubilee!,” which introduced the classic Porter songs “Begin the Beguine” and “Just One of Those Things” and starred Melvin Cooper and Mary Boland as the King and Queen and a young Montgomery Clift as Prince Peter.
The John Robert Powers Agency saw in Adele top runway model potential and quickly signed up the gorgeous girl and her gams. She willingly played the starlet game by being squired around town by big Broadway stars and handsome male eligibles, and finding promotional titles to further attract pin-up attention – “Miss World’s Fairest” at the New York 1939 World’s Fair, as well as “The Champagne Blonde” and “The Girl with the Million Dollar Legs”. She was even dubbed “The Number One Showgirl in New York City” at one point. By this time she had revised the spelling of her last name for the stage (Jergens). In between modeling assignments, Adele found dance work in other in cabaret revues, nightclubs, in the Rockette chorus line, and in such Broadway shows as Cole Porter’s “Leave It to Me!” (1938) again starring Gaxton and Moore and co-starring “My Heart Belongs to Daddy” singing star Mary Martin; Cole Porter’s “DuBarry Was a Lady” (1939) with Ethel Merman belting out “Well, Did You Evah?” and “Friendship”; “Louisiana Purchase” (in a replacement role) (1940), “Banjo Eyes” (1941) starring Eddie Cantor and the burlesque revue “Star and Garter” (1942) in which Adele had a featured role while understudying one of its headliners, Gypsy Rose Lee. She went on for Ms. Lee, Hollywood took immediate notice with Twentieth Century-Fox signing her up.
Adele started at the bottom rung at Fox with the usual decorative showgirl or good time girl parts in the musicals Hello Frisco, Hello (1943), Sweet Rosie O'Grady (1943), The Gang’s All Here (1943) and Pin Up Girl (1944). When Fox dropped her option she was snatched up by Columbia in a seven-year contract. After minor parts again in the musicals Dancing in Manhattan (1944), Tonight and Every Night (1945) and State Fair (1945), she was entrusted with the lead femme role as Princess Armina of Baghdad in the Eastern adventure _A Thousand and One Nights (1945) starring Phil Silvers and handsome Cornel Wilde as Aladdin. She also displayed a brusque comic flair as the aptly-named Allura in the Rosalind Russell comedy She Wouldn’t Say Yes (1945) as an hilariously-accented blonde briefly competing for Russell’s man Lee Bowman. Adele also top-lined her own musical albeit the quickly forgotten When a Girl’s Beautiful (1947) which co-starred Marc Platt and Stephen Dunne.
After a lull, the former WWII pin-up (once nick-named “The All-American Girl” by the men of the 504th parachute infantry) was now being billed by Columbia as “The Eyeful” and returned to the musical genre with the fantasy Down to Earth (1947). Rita Hayworth plays a heavenly muse who, disturbed by a Broadway musical below the clouds that is mocking Greek mythology. Turning mortal, she takes things in her own hands by turning mortal and (not easily) replacing the show’s tough-talking original goddess Adele Jergens in order to manipulate the proceedings. Adele gets to tap and sing (dubbed by Kay Starr) before she is fired.
Outside of musicals, the hard-looking blonde (especially when her hair was let down), Adele started making headway in crime dramas and film noir starting with a nifty featured role as a glamour girl in The Corpse Came C.O.D. (1947). She followed that with hard-boiled roles in I Love Trouble (1948), The Dark Past (1948), Edge of Doom (1950), Armored Car Robbery (1950) and Side Street (1949). For the most part, however, it was the usual over-served hash that, while keeping her busy, also kept her locked in the “B” support ranks – The Prince of Thieves (1948), Law of the Barbary Coast (1949), Slightly French (1949), Make Believe Ballroom (1949), Aaron Slick from Punkin Crick (1952), Somebody Loves Me (1952) – when not leading in inconsequential material such as Ladies of the Chorus (1948) (as Marilyn’s Monroe’s mom), The Mutineers (1949), The Woman from Tangier (1948), The Crime Doctor’s Diary (1949) and the serial Radar Secret Service (1950).
Treasure of Monte Cristo (1949) was notable for the casting of Adele and future husband Glenn Langan. One might think that gorgeous Adele would end up a divorcée many times over, but she and Langan, who wed on October 6, 1951, stayed married until his death almost 40 years later. The 1950s, following good parts (Sugarfoot (1951)) but far more routine ones (Beware of Blondie (1950), The Traveling Saleswoman (1950), Blues Busters (1950)), Adele moved into TV work. After having son Tracy in 1953, Adele took a brief break from her career, then resumed it and found work on such programs as “Dangerous Assignment,” “The Abbott & Costello Show,” “Mr. and Mrs. North,” “Make Room for Daddy,” “The Public Defender,” “I Married Joan,” “My Favorite Husband” and “The Burns & Allen Show”. Co-starring on film with husband Langan again in The Big Chase (1954), Adele worked for a couple more years then left the business as the quality of her movies diminished with tawdry roles in Fireman Save My Child (1954), The Miami Story (1954), The Lonesome Trail (1955), Girls in Prison (1956) and Runaway Daughters (1956). She never returned but husband Langan continued his career until the early 1970s, and he also dabbled in real estate.
Glenn Langan died of cancer in 1991 and their only child, 48-year-old Tracy, who had become a film technician, died in 2001 of a brain tumor, which devastated the actress. Her health declined quickly after her son’s death; she died the following year of pneumonia on November 22, 2002, just days before her 85th birthday.
[[ Request: imagine where you’re opie’s old lady and one of his ex’s became a croweater and won’t leave him alone so you beat her ass ]]
“I’m so sick of seeing her scrawny ass prancing around here.”
You and Gemma looked on at the skinny peroxide-blonde stumbling around the clubhouse. A skin-tight dress clung to her body for dear life, and she could hardly walk in the sky high heels she was wearing. She thought she looked great, but she looked like a mess. Then again, you weren’t exactly being objective about it. That skinny blonde just so happened to be your old man’s ex who had become a croweater for the sole purpose of making your life a living hell. At least, that’s what you had always assumed. She never seemed to leave the clubhouse. She constantly hung around, drank, and made an ass of herself. Oh, and she liked to hang all over your old man whenever the opportunity presented itself. She couldn’t seem to let go of the fact that she was no longer Opie’s old lady. You had taken that title, and after two years, she still hadn’t gotten it through her thick, dumb skull.
“You need to take care of that, baby,” Gemma told you, a stern look on her face. “Need to put blondie in her place.”
You sighed and watched as blondie pranced her way over to the bar. “Yeah. I know.”
“That little tart is back,” Gemma said, walking up to you as you were restocking the bar at TM.
There was a party tonight, so of course you expected the blonde idiot to show up there, but it was only two in the afternoon. She had no business being at the clubhouse at all, and she was really starting to piss you off.
You sighed in annoyance and placed another bottle of Scottish whisky on the shelf. “That bitch is really testing my patience.”
Gemma crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at you in amusement. “I told you how I’d handle it, sweetheart.”
You looked over your shoulder as the blonde tip-toed towards the back of the clubhouse, heading directly towards Opie’s room. He wasn’t there. The guys were out on a run and wouldn’t be back until right before the party. But the fact that she thought she could just go back there, especially now that you were Opie’s old lady, just rubbed you the wrong way. She had been at the clubhouse every day for the past two weeks, her nose practically shoved up Opie’s ass. She had been glaring at you any time she got the chance. If looks could kill, you would have dropped dead after the first day. Unfortunately for her, you were beginning to run out of patience. You had just about had enough of her bullshit, and you were tired of playing nice. She was going to step on your final nerve soon, and there was no telling what you might do.
“Opie, I swear to God, if she shows up tonight - ”
“I’m sure she won’t, babe.” Opie took your hand and pulled you towards him. He pulled you down into his lap. “She’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Ignore her.”
“Kind of hard to,” you said through gritted teeth. “She’s always at the fucking clubhouse.”
Opie sighed loudly. “Want me to say something to her again?”
“No.” You stood from his lap. “I can handle it, baby.” You placed a kiss on the end of his nose and smiled devilishly. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You walked back towards the bar where your old man was waiting for you. Just as he came into sight, you saw that familiar head full of fake blonde hair, and you felt a wave of anger course through your body. You stopped and watched as she made her way over to your old man, her body barely clothed in yet another too-tight strapless dress. She reeked of desperation. You could smell it all the way across the room. You continued your walk towards the bar. You were a few feet away when you saw her throw an arm around your old man’s shoulder’s and try to slide into his lap. Opie pushed her off, and you could see that he was saying something to her, his eyebrows knit and his face looking angry. But it didn’t matter. It was too late for her. You had had enough. You were tired of seeing her slink around the clubhouse, and you were determined to put an end to it.
“You stupid blonde bitch,” you snarled, stomping up behind her and Opie. Before she knew what was happening, you had grabbed a fistful of her dyed blonde hair. You pulled hard, dragging the surprised croweater away from your old man and down to the floor. She fell hard, squirming and slapping in an effort to be freed. “You think you can keep doing this shit and nothing will happen?” You dug the toe of your boot into her ribs. “I’m tired of seeing your desperate ass hanging around here.” You let go of her hair with a forceful push. Her head hit the wood floor of the clubhouse with a loud thud.
By now, you had caught the attention of nearly everyone in the clubhouse. You stepped back and stared down at her for a few moments before you began to walk off, thinking you had finally scared her off once and for all. Opie stood from the bar, his eyes wide, but he looked amused.
“Shit!” You could hear Jax yelling as he made his way over to the bar, but you could hardly tell what he was saying. You looked back up to see Opie and his ex yelling at each other, hands shaking and voices getting louder by the second. You crossed towards them. The bitch wasn’t taking the hint, and you were seeing red. Before anyone could stop you, you had buried your fist in the blonde’s face, colliding with her nose and causing blood to pour out immediately.
Opie’s mouth opened in shock. Jax stood back and stared, his blue eyes now huge.
“Shit,” Opie mumbled. He looked mildly impressed.
She grabbed her nose, her eyes wide. “You bitch!” she screamed, blood now covering her hands. “You broke my nose!”
You stared hard at her, eyes low and full of rage. “Get out,” you growled, “And don’t you ever fucking come back.” She must have known just how serious you were, because she didn’t protest. She turned, heading for the exit of the clubhouse, hand still clutching her bleeding nose.
“Well, shit,” Gemma crowed from behind you, a hint of amusement in her voice. Opie and Jax stood to the side, shocked looks on both of their faces. “Glad you finally took my advice, baby.” Gemma walked over and gently grabbed your chin. She turned your face from side to side. “Not a scratch.” She placed her hands on her hips and smirked at you triumphantly. “That’s my girl.” She winked at you. “Now you really are an Old Lady.”
You turned back to your old man, whose mouth was now closed and spread into a playful smirk. “Damn, babe.” He took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around you. “You weren’t lyin’ when you said you were going to handle it.”
You shrugged and smirked up at Opie. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
Opie laughed and shook his head at you. “I guess you did, babe.” He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. “Come on, slugger. You can take the rest of that pent-up aggression out on me.”
Request: Can u do an after death imagine for Kyle when the reader is having a panic attack and he can’t talk so he doesn’t know what to do
The click clack of stiletto heels on the glossy wooden floors is enough to make you want to run screaming from the building. Madison, the witch bitch, just doesn’t sit right with you. You’ve seen moments of humanity in her, but mostly she seems to honestly be a psychopath. “Hey little girl,” Madison calls to you in a sing song voice, waving a pointed manicured hand mockingly. Slowly, so you can compose yourself, you pivot so that you are facing her. Madison stands in a fur vest and red sequin maxi dress, how does she get away with these clothing choices? Her slim alabaster arms are crossed and she is wearing a wicked grin. You are in for it.
“So, have you gotten your affairs in order?” Madison questions, tilting her head to the right brazenly. You crick your head to the side and your sculpted eyebrows pull together in sincere confusion. “You know? Since there is no way you are going to pass descensum. You’ll fall into a nightmare forever! How fantastic, I bet the nightmare will be your little boyfriend Kyle breaking up with you for me.”
There is truth to Madison’s wicked words, you are extremely worried that you will fail. You and Madison are witches, yes, that seems impossible. That’s what you thought until the day you woke up floating above your bed. You were sent to a witch school to be taught how to wield your powers. While there you went out to a frat party with Madison and your friend Zoe, that’s where you met Kyle. You guys hit it off but Madison killed him, she killed him. Madison and Zoe helped you bring him back and you’d been with him since. You have a gripping fear that when he is healed he won’t love you and if you don’t complete the seven wonders, a competition to determine the next leader of the coven, you’ll probably die.
She twirls on her heel, intentionally flipping peroxide blond hair in your face. You reach out for her and grasp at the scratchy sequins, “I have just as much chance as anyone..” Unfortunately, your voice falters with uncertainty and Madison is not the kind of person who misses those things. Her blood red lips curl and you prepare yourself for an assault of cruel words. “You won’t last a minute. You are a weak little shit,” Madison pauses, thoughtful, and then dives back in with a cackling laugh, “You have to date a boy who can’t even speak because anyone smarter than him wouldn’t want you!!”
You feel the heat behind your eyes and go blind with pain. Spinning on your heel you dart out of the kitchen and up the large marble staircase, straight into your room. You slam the door behind you and rush to the bathroom where you collapse to the cold tiles. Your chest tightens and you suddenly gasp for air. Black stars dot your vision and you clutch your shirt in panic. You can’t think straight you just keep thinking; I can’t do this, I’m going to lose him. I can’t do this, I’m going to lose him. The words have haunted you but finally they were realized by Madison.
As you gasp for air, jutting your chin up as if that will help, you hear the bedroom door open. You hear an alarmed grunt and suddenly Kyle is there. He sees the terrified tears streaming down your face and drops to his knees, crawling quickly toward you. He looks at you wide eyed, his chapped mouth drops open and keeps slightly opening and closing as if he wants to do something but doesn’t know what. Kyle grimaces frustratedly and tries to get out a word, “Wh-what?” You clutch your chest still trying to breathe and Kyle looks around as if trying to find someone else, he begins to leave, presumably to find someone to help, but you reach out and grip his hand desperately, “Stay,” You rasp between pants. You know this is a panic attack and it will work itself out. Shaking, you draw your knobby knees to your chest and hang your head between them.
You feel a large warm hand settle on the small of your back. Kyle grunts and pulls you into him, so you are between his legs and he is holding you protectively to his chest. Kyle strokes your hair tenderly and pushes out, “Pro-protec-ct,” You look at him with mascara streaked down your face and give him a sad smile. “L-love,” He sighs into you kissing your head. Your breathing returns to normal slowly but surely. You gaze up at him lovingly and you know you have to give tomorrow your best. “Love,” You repeat, tapping his nose lightly.