river darling

Ten days before the Oscar ceremony, the Gainesville Sun laid out the red carpet to welcome officially the internationally famous actor to town with the headline RIVER PHOENIX, REGULAR GUY. Soon after the article appeared in the Gainesville SUN, there was a backlash against River. Hostile members of a rival local rock band called the Smegmas launched a campaign to humiliate him by plastering one of his early beefcake shots all over town

‘River’s feelings were badly hurt’, said Dirk Drake. ‘He felt that now he had finally found somewhere to live that he liked, he wasn’t going to be allowed to settle down peacefully. He couldn’t understand the hostility.’ As a counter, River arranged to have Aleka’s Attic open for the Smegmas. And when hundreds of kids arrived and paid the cover charge to see River play he insisted on giving all the box-office proceeds to his persecutors. The campaign against him was halted

- Lost in Hollywood: The Fast Times and Short Life of River Phoenix

Sherry Darling
Bruce Springsteen
Sherry Darling

Sherry Darling
Bruce Springsteen

You can tell her there’s a hot sun beatin on the blacktop
She keeps talkin she’ll be walkin that last block
She can take a subway back to the dead of the night
Well I got some beer and the highways free
And I got you, and baby you’ve got me.
Hey, hey, hey whataya say sherry darlin

anonymous asked:

Riv-issy, 24

this one was actually really difficult to get an idea for! but I got there in the end, and fake relationships are the best trope

24 - Cuddling Between Strangers

It’s not how Missy planned on meeting River Song. She’d watched her, of course, from a distance, and thought many times about popping in and seeing the Doctor’s precious little wife, seeing what all the fuss is about. 

Well, alright, there’s nothing little about River Song. And certainly not about her taste in jewellery. 

There are few people in the universe brave enough or stupid enough or clever enough to attempt to steal the Crown Jewels of Arcadia. But it turns out that two of those people are River Song… and Missy herself. 

“Who the hell are you?” River had asked, upon encountering her in the inner vault. 

“Oh god, not you,” Missy had meanwhile muttered under her breath, with a big roll of her eyes. 

The blaring alarms had helped them get over any possible animosity and focus on working together until they had managed to stash the jewels underneath the voluminous skirts that happen to be the fashion on this planet - so handy, for hiding bulky items, it turns out. 

Now comes the tricky bit, though. They’ve made it to the gardens of the palace, but Missy can feel no less than six different guards eyeing them suspiciously as they make their way through. 

It seems, however, that River is just as aware of this as she is. Or at least, Missy’s assuming that’s why she’s just put her arm around her shoulders and pulled Missy flush against her side. 

“Isn’t it beautiful, darling?” River asks loudly. 

Missy lifts an eyebrow, but then smiles and replies, “Yes, it certainly is.”

“I’m so glad we chose to come here for our honeymoon, aren’t you?” River beams at her and drags her to a nearby loveseat before cuddling up to her even more shamelessly. 

Missy isn’t necessarily too thrilled about being cuddled by River Song, the not-quite-human-but-not-remotely-close-enough-to-Time-Lady. The Doctor’s wife. Urgh. 

“Just keep going with it,” River murmurs into her ear, before nuzzling against her neck. “They seem less suspicious now.”

Missy feels somewhat indignant about being nuzzled. Nuzzling is for humans and cats and fluffy animals, not Time Lords. Not the Queen of Evil. 

Of course, it’s not like River knows that she’s nuzzling the Queen of Evil. River just thinks she’s nuzzling an attractive fellow jewel thief. And, admittedly, mostly for the sake of not being arrested and executed for grand larceny. 

Missy smiles, and decides to push her luck a little. She runs her hands up the side of River’s bodice, daring to get a little too close to River’s - very present, with the low neckline of the dress - breasts. 

River’s eyebrow lifts imperceptibly. 

“It’s polite to buy a girl dinner first, you know,” River murmurs in her ear. 

“I’m not a very polite person,” Missy replies, smirking. 

“I got that when you tried to murder me before even introducing yourself. How utterly rude of you.” 

Missy snorts. “Shut up and cuddle me, so we can get out of here.”

River laughs and does exactly that. And maybe, though Missy would never admit it, being cuddled by River Song isn’t an entirely awful experience. 

Being able to tell the Doctor she’d managed to cop a feel on his wife would certainly make it worth it, anyway. 

Send me a number and a ship, and I’ll write a cuddling prompt! 

i am young and invincible
you line up the end of your burning cigarette with the sun dipping low on the horizon
exhale smoke like a river and tell me,
“Darling, we are immortal.”

except we aren’t.

except your mother gets angry again
and takes your door off its hinges
she yells and i know you don’t like the noise
i know you’ve been struggling with diagnoses you’ve had to give yourself
because she’s got a sister with a brain that likes to scream 
and it’s genetic 

your mother always gets angry in the end
and mine stops caring

somewhere along the way we picked up the roles our families failed to fill
slung them over our shoulders and did our best as substitutes 
mother, brother, lover
sister
father

lover.

i hush you into bed and you make me breakfast the next day 
when i don’t touch it you know that the absence of a remark from you will buy you a respite when you work yourself into a frenzy of disassociation again

we are trying our best to fill shoes too big 
to try and just be 
in the empty spaces our parents left behind

we have to be young, my love
because our souls are too old and our minds too aged 
this skin is all we have left of a lost childhood 
and even that is slipping

and we must be invincible if only because we are not:
we have learned to exist not because of but in spite of 
and this is a talent we will take to the grave

my love, 
we have survived too much to not indulge ourselves in this:
a half hour on the balcony watching the sun set 
your breath reeking of smoke but your hand warm on my waist

my love,
we have survived too much to not indulge ourselves in this:
you, saying things you know are not truth but instead pretty falsities 
me, willing to believe because it is better than denying 

darling,
we are immortal.

—  i know that our wicks are burning too close to the end of the candle. you are flickering and so am i // H.S.