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#the west auditorium
nofatclips · 5 months
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Cymbaline by Pink Floyd, live at Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco, from KQED's An Hour with Pink Floyd, as featured in the boxset The Early Years 1970 DEVI/ATION
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boxfivetrades · 2 years
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thackooooo
(first javert’s suicide of this run, please don’t repost outside tumblr)
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sinceileftyoublog · 6 months
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The Who Reissue Reivew: Who's Next/Life House (Super Deluxe Edition)
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(UMe)
BY JORDAN MAINZER
After listening to all almost 10 hours of the latest reissue from The Who, I've come away with two thoughts: I'm glad Pete Townshend's vision for Life House has been totally documented, and I'm thankful Who's Next ended up exactly the way it did. The London band's 1971 opus is, full stop, a perfect album, and remastered over 50 years later, it sounds as vital as ever. Hearing "Baba O'Riley" doesn't just excite people experiencing it for the first time but wows those listening for the thousandth, from the opening chords to Dave Arbus' violin at the end. "Bargain" is the band's most underrated song in their entire catalog, Keith Moon's drums acting as a lead instrument, with John Entwistle's bass and Townshend's guitars providing the backbone. Nicky Hopkins' piano graces the two dramatic treatises on the very act of songwriting itself, "The Song Is Over" and "Getting In Tune". "Won't Get Fooled Again" remains a wildly anarchic song from a band that only went so far as to lightly poke fun at consumerism but was otherwise apolitical. And as much as Roger Daltrey was at the height of his vocal powers, belting during "Baba O'Riley" and unleashing one of the most famous screams in rock and roll on the final track, the two songs without him--Entwistle's "My Wife" and Townshend's brilliant choogle "Going Mobile"--shine bright.
So when you hear the demos from the failed Life House rock opera that turned into Who's Next, as well as sessions containing fan favorite songs recorded around the same time, do you question what made the cut? Could Who's Next have been even better? The short answer, and the only answer, is no. But the extended material, in conjunction with live recordings of two concerts in 1971 before and after the record was released, paints a fascinating picture of a band trying to figure out what it's best at. They were the first to advertise a rock opera in 1969 with Tommy, and Townshend was eager to write another one in Life House, an astonishingly ambitious, multi-media project with a convoluted plot and a desired presentation that seems to foreshadow postmodernism, the Internet, and the metaverse all at once.
Appropriately, the Lifehouse Chronicles demos (referring to the box set Townshend released in 2000) indicate a band where he's at the forefront, Moon's drumming notably taking a back seat on a groovier "Bargain". "Teenage Wasteland" shares some lyrical elements with the eventual "Baba O'Riley" but is structured like a prog rock song, and the gist of the lyrics emphase the quintessential masculine impostor syndrome that pervaded the band's earlier songs. "Love Ain't For Keeping" is less of a country ballad and Daltrey showcase, more an opportunity for Townshend to sneer over psychedelic wah-wahs. A 13-minute instrumental version of "Baba O'Riley" starts out exactly the same as the eventual version until the drums swallow in on themselves, the song growing quieter, delving into experimental ambiance, and warping in and out as if it were an electronic remix of the original. What the Lifehouse Chronicles does make you appreciate, on the other hand, is the individual greatness of gorgeous songs that stand on their own merits but wouldn't have sounded sonically cohesive within the Who's Next framework: the strummed "Greyhound Girl", barroom piano jaunt "Nothing Is Everything (Let's See Action)", and the layered "Pure and Easy". Plus, hearing a rawer, more fried version of "Going Mobile" is the closest you'll ever come to witnessing a live recording of the Who's Next standout the band never played in concert.
The two sessions included in the reissue pinpoint where Life House turned into Who's Next. The first contain recordings at New York's Record Plant with band manager Kit Lambert (that Leslie West of Mountain famously played on). Sonically, they're a bit muddier than the Olympic Studios sessions or what ended up on Who's Next. "Won't Get Fooled Again" is plodding, as is "The Note", an early version of "Pure and Easy". When Lambert and Townshend had a falling out about what, exactly, Life House was (Townshend had rejected Lambert's Tommy film script and told Universal Pictures that Life House was a new version of Tommy), the band went to Glyn Johns to produce, who suggested The Who make a single album instead of a rock opera. It's here that we hear versions of songs like "Love Ain't For Keeping" and "Bargain" that sound familiar, as well as stellar versions of tracks recorded for Life House that didn't make Who's Next. "I Don't Even Know Myself" sports clacking percussion from Moon, "Relay" chugs along wonderfully, and "Put the Money Down" juxtaposes Daltrey's huge vocals and Townshend's guitars, the closest the band ever got to Southern rock.
The sixth disc, containing alternate mixes and sessions from Townshend's home studio in Twickenham, is by no means essential, but it reminds you just how good The Who sounded as a result of participating in so many sessions, fine-tuned while at their creative peak. Versions of "The Seeker" highlight Townshend's fast-picked guitar and Moon's drumming, Daltrey's full-throated wails exemplifying what made this era of the band so thrilling. In a call to Live at Leeds, one of the best live albums ever, and one that the band simply released as a way to tide over hungry fans post-Tommy, The Who here include a stereo remix of Leeds favorite "Heaven and Hell". "Water"'s piano trills and call-and-response vocals preview the storming grandiosity of Quadrophenia, while the undeniably silly "Waspman", with its harmonica and vocal zipping, recall earlier, more absurd albums like The Who Sell Out.
The band's concert at the Young Vic Theatre in London, impromptu during album recording, and the site where the band planned to record sonic and visual footage as part of the Life House experience, proved to be the rock opera's death knell. Perhaps that was because fans were quick to shout requests for "My Generation" and "Summertime Blues", disappointed when Townshend announced "Water" instead. I like to think it's because the Who's Next songs sounded good on their own: "Love Ain't For Keeping", the upcoming single "Behind Blue Eyes", and a guitar solo-laden "Getting In Tune". By the time they played later that year at The Civic Auditorium in San Francisco, Who's Next was already out, and it's this concert, presented in full for the first time ever, that documents a band realizing where their newer, more ambitious material fit in with their classics. While they still opened with "Can't Explain" and "Substitute", by the time they performed the synth intro of "Baba O'Riley", fans started to cheer for the new material, too. Naturally, the biggest reaction erupted for a 17-minute version of "Magic Bus", Tommy material like "Pinball Wizard", and a blistering "My Generation". In due time, though, the band would be playing to true arenas, on the strength of, not in spite of, Who's Next. What this box set shows is a potential alternate timeline: If Townshend's vision had panned out, who's to say we'd still be talking about The Who in 2023?
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cartermagazine · 5 months
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Today In History
Doris Miller, African-American hero of World War II, the son of sharecroppers Connery and Henrietta Miller, enlisted in the United States Navy at its Dallas recruiting station.
Following bootcamp training in Norfolk, Virginia, he was assigned to the USS West Virginia as a messman.
On December 7, 1941, Mess Attendant Second Class Doris Miller was collecting soiled laundry just before 8:00 A.M. when the first bombs blasted his ship at anchor in Pearl Harbor. Miller went to the main deck where he assisted in moving the mortally wounded captain.
He then raced to an unattended deck gun and fired at the attacking planes until forced to abandon ship. It was Miller’s first experience firing such a weapon because black sailors serving in the segregated steward’s branch of the Navy were not given the gunnery training received by white sailors.
Navy officials conferred the Navy Cross upon Miller on May 27, 1942, in a ceremony at Pearl Harbor.
In addition to conferring upon him the Navy Cross, the Navy honored Doris Miller by naming a dining hall, a barracks, and a destroyer escort for him. The USS Miller is the third naval ship to be named after a black Navy man.
In Waco a YMCA branch, a park, and a cemetery bear his name. In Houston, Texas, and in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, elementary schools have been named for him, as has a Veterans of Foreign Wars chapter in Los Angeles. An auditorium on the campus of Huston-Tillotson College in Austin is dedicated to his memory. In Chicago the Doris Miller Foundation honors persons who make significant contributions to racial understanding.
CARTER™️ Magazine
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On this day... - April 1st
On this day Led Zeppelin performed:
+ 1969 : Klooks Kleek in West Hampstead, UK
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+ 1971 : Paris Cinema Theatre in London, UK
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This performance was part of John Peel’s In Concert show on BBC Radio One. It was released on BBC Sessions in 1997.
+ 1973 : Centre Sportif in Saint-Ouen, Paris, France
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“Led Zeppelin conquered again last night. They turned an audience that resembled dumb figures at the start into a terrifying mass of hysteria. The roar of approval from ten thousand kids was enough to pump the adrenalin through a nun, let alone a rock ‘n’ roller. Solid slogging work that has now brought about total live perfection. […] Their ability to reach an impeccable high and sustain it for three hours is an astonishing feat.” – ‘Vive le Zeppelin!’ by Roy Hollingworth, Melody Maker
+ 1977 : Memorial Auditorium in Dallas, Texas, USA
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“This was an event – Zep’s first show since 1975 and it was happening right here in Dallas. […] Led Zeppelin did not disappoint. The band played for three hours – way over the norm for a rock concert. And for a first show, it was amazingly professional – loose, easy going but never sloppy. […] The concert also attracted one of the most well-behaved audiences for a show of this type. These were people who came to see and hear their idols, not to cause trouble. Their calls for an encore seemed to be an honest tribute more than an excuse to set things on fire.” – ‘Led Zeppelin rises to a night of firsts’, Times
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presleybutlervsp · 4 months
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January 7, 1956
Elvis performed at the Louisiana Hayride, Municipal Auditorium, Shreveport. Elvis and Red West flew in to Shreveport for a bill that included George Jones.
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winnix85 · 1 month
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The confusing time stamp on the ww2 draft card
You may have noticed that at the back of the draft card there was a date of registration. I've long suspected it didn't reflect the actual date of the registration of Lewis Nixon at the draft board, but rather more likely to be a batch number.
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As you can see, Lewis Nixon's draft card was dated on October 16th 1940, but on that day, he was on the west coast, attending opera with his mother. He was on the west coast until at least November 4th 1940. It's impossible for him to appear at the draft board in N.J. in October.
I think his actual date of registration was on November 22nd 1940, as shown on the right corner on the front page of his draft card, along with his order number 1273.
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The Senate and House on September 14 1940 approved the Selective Service Act, instituting compulsory military service for one year and mandating the registration of all American men between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-five.
But the first "lottery drawing" happened on October 29th:
On October 29, less than a week before Americans went to the polls, he [Roosevelt] stood next to Henry Stimson on the stage of the War Department auditorium. Flashbulbs from news cameras popped as the blindfolded secretary reached into a huge glass fishbowl filled with thousands of bright blue capsules and retrieved one. He handed it to Roosevelt, who opened it and announced: “The first number is one-five-eight.” A woman in the audience screamed. Her son and the more than six thousand other young Americans whose draft number was 158 would be the first ones called up to serve. For the next several hours, War Department officials drew the remainder of the numbers to determine the order in which more than a million men—of the more than sixteen million who had registered for the draft—would be inducted. ----Page 295 of THOSE ANGRY DAYS
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elvis1970s · 10 months
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Had history turned out differently, Elvis' work schedule was set to continue throughout the late summer and autumn of 1977. Reports suggest that Elvis was in good spirits in the weeks off following his June tour, and told his cousin, Billy Smith, that this next tour was going to be the best yet.
This is the itinerary for his August tour:
Aug 17 - Cumberland County Civic Center, Portland, Maine
Aug 18 - Cumberland County Civic Center, Portland, Maine
Aug 19 - Utica Memorial Auditorium, Utica, NY
Aug 20 - Onondaga County War Memorial, Syracuse, NY
Aug 21 - Civic Center, Hartford, Connecticut
Aug 22 - Nassau Veterans Coliseum, Uniondale, NY
Aug 23 - University of Kentucky, Lexington, Kentucky
Aug 24 - Roanoke Civic Center, Roanoke, Virginia
Aug 25 - Cumberland County Arena, Fayetteville, NC
Aug 26 - Asheville Civic Center Arena, Asheville, NC
Aug 27 - Mid-South Coliseum, Memphis, Tennessee
Aug 28 - Mid-South Coliseum, Memphis, Tennessee
At the time of his passing, there were already some keenly anticipated dates confirmed for a tour in September.
Sep 21, 1977 - Huntington Civic Center, Huntington, West Virginia
Sep 22, 1977 - Huntington Civic Center, Huntington, West Virginia
Sep 26, 1977 - Indiana State University , Terre Haute, Indiana
Sep 28, 1977 - Savannah Civic Center, Savannah, Georgia
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Special thanks to Francesc Lopez for providing information and press for the September tour.
In October, Elvis was due open the 5 000 seat Las Vegas Hilton Pavilion, a new showroom which was part of a major hotel redevelopment.
And then, in September 1978...
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prince-of-elsinore · 2 months
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Writing patterns tag game!
Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!
Thank you @flownwrong for the tag! I love tag games that investigate writing style and habits :)
Sam shuts his laptop and massages the bridge of his nose. Too many violent deaths that fit the profile of their vengeful spirit; not enough sleep to parse through them. -
When I climbed over my brother's hips for the third time that night, Sodapop threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. -
When I started writing that composition, it made me remember things. -
The Tar Man first appeared to me in Plano, Texas. -
The brake lines in Mrs. Shapiro's 1986 Ford station wagon need replacing. -
Sam's still in his stage makeup when he pulls his brother into an empty classroom in the wing off the auditorium. -
When Sam suggested they warm up, this was not what he had in mind. For the record. -
New Orleans in the middle of July is hell. -
He spends Christmas Day driving west. -
Storms stir shit up. Like dogs and old war wounds, spirits get restless when the pressure drops. -
Hm, I seem to favor some sort of setting contextualization of time, place, or occasion. And I've started three stories with the word "When." Funny that that includes both my published Outsiders stories, and of course the book also begins with "When." Perhaps I was subconsciously echoing that.
Anyone notice anything else? I'm curious what you see!
I have no idea who's been tagged for this one already so apologies if you're double-tapped: @nigeltde-fic, @mannequin3thereckoning, @buddyaldridge, @nevergettingoverwincest, and @dyed-red :)
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godlizzza · 6 months
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Fic request if possible? - I want to see Middle aged herb get into some argument with a PTA mom over the funding of the science program or something, I like to imagine he’d deny fighting tooth and nail for that kid to get a proper science education but we both know he would 😂
Ty (no rush on it if you’re busy, sorry to bug ya, love your work)
"Now then, onto the point of school funding. I- Yes, Mr. West?"
"It's Dr. West, Carol, try to get it right. Now, what I want to know is, why is there even a suggestion to blow half the budget on- what was it? A patio?"
"It's for refurbishing the auditorium to make it suitable for the children to perform plays. The current deck has a weight capacity that would limit class-wide performances."
"That's absurd. How can you even suggest that when the science lab is in its current state? I've seen run-down meth labs in better condition."
"Oh, my goodness..."
"Dr. West, please try to keep your language appropriate."
"What did I say? I didn't even curse."
"Does anyone else have any propositions over the budget, or-?"
"I wasn't finished. As I was saying, there can't be any question on funding decks until the lab is fit for students to actually learn the sciences in a productive way."
"Excuse me. I can appreciate that you're advocating for your chosen path, doctor, but what about the other subjects? Like the arts? My daughter, Molly, is an aspiring actress. She needs a suitable auditorium to perform in."
"Little Polly can do cartwheels-"
"It's Molly."
"-or the chicken dance wherever she wants. A child actually wishing to develop their education past the preschool level needs the proper equipment."
"Ms. Chairwoman, I don't appreciate Dr. West's tone."
"And I don't appreciate hippies dragging down the average IQ of the next generation."
"Alright, everyone, let's try to keep things civil-"
"I'm being perfectly civil. Brenda's the one who can't control herself. It's no wonder little Dolly can't even count to three unassisted."
"Her name is Molly you insufferable, little-!"
"Ms. Chairwoman, I don't appreciate Mrs. Gibson's tone."
"Okay, enough. Meeting adjourned. Dr. West, may I have a word please?"
"Oh, hey, Honey. How'd the meeting go?"
"Swimmingly. Though, for some reason, several people made complaints about me."
"Herbert..."
"What? I was simply advocating on the behalf of those children and their right to a proper education. If some of those parents had it their way, those kids would be doing nothing but finger painting and singing about butterflies."
"You know, maybe you should sit the next meeting out."
"Dan, you're a bystander in all this. Indifference is the true enemy of progress, you know."
"Uh huh, sure. Now, why don't you sit down and I'll make you a nice cup of tea, huh? How does that sound?"
"What a dear you are. I knew there had to be some reason why I married you."
"Mhmm."
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boxfivetrades · 8 months
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that final 'night' reverberating through the auditorium 💯
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blurredcolour · 1 year
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If You'll Be My Bodyguard | Part Seven
If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist
Summary: Circumstances beyond your control separate you from Austin and leave him vulnerable to attack. The outcome not only results in injury to him and Ari, but a realization of just what you and Austin mean to one another.
Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Bodyguard Reader
Warnings: Language, Mentions of Firearms, Austin Butler Does Not Win the Oscar - Just Like Real Life, Mentions of Reader’s Mother Being Attacked, Mentions of Reader’s Mother Being Injured, Discussion of Parental Mortality, Discussion of Automobile Accident, Discussion of Attempted Homicide With An Automobile, Austin Butler Injury, OC Male Character Injury, Austin Butler Hospitalization, Austin Butler Pain, Austin Butler Recovery, Reader Acting As Caregiver, Home Invasion, Attempted Shooting, Dog Bite to Intruder, Shots Fired, Minor Reader Injury, Allusions to Handcuff Kink, Mature/Explicit Themes [manual stimulation – m/f receiving, oral – m/f receiving, face sitting, sex while injured, multiple orgasms, condom, penetrative sex] – 18+ Only.
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Credit: Mark Seliger
Author’s Note: And so we’ve reached the final chapter! Honestly, it is actually two chapters worth of material but I didn’t feel like adding another part of making y’all wait. So, strap in, there’s a lot to come!
Word Count: 8726
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You were quite certain you had never seen someone lose more graciously. From desperately clinging to Angela Basset’s hands to surging to his feet to cheer on Brendan Fraser as he made his way to the stage, face wide with excitement for his fellow nominee and now Oscar winner. You were thankful to be standing beneath the shadow of the balcony box above as your heart fell through the floor and you were positive that you looked exactly as crestfallen as you felt.
Taking advantage of the time afforded by Brendan’s acceptance speech, and the Best Picture category, you managed to ruthlessly stomp down your disappointment and assemble your expression into a warm, kind, neutral mask before moving to join Austin once the broadcast came to an end. It took nearly an hour for him to make his way from the auditorium – there were simply that many people who wanted to snag a photo or offer their condolences. When you finally reached the doors, he looked to you and swallowed tightly.
“Let’s just go to Ysabel.” He murmured into your ear, and you nodded, sending Ari a message to meet you around the side, away from the press, to make a quick exit to the Warner Brother’s party.
While the Governor’s Ball would be lavish, with food and drink fit for royalty, it was undeniably biased towards celebrating the winners and you could hardly blame Austin for not wanting to go through that. Especially not when, waiting at the private party were people like Polly, Xavier, Kelvin, and Luke. As the car pulled up, you opened the door for him, looking up to his face as he held out a hand to help you in. You smiled softly and slid in carefully, moving across the backseat to the other side so he could climb in immediately after you. Though he did so chuckling and shaking his head.
“I coulda gone around, you know Betty.” He smirked softly and closed the door against the noise outside, leaning back against the seat as the silence of the car wrapped around the pair of you.
Ari carefully navigated his way to West Hollywood, and you politely watched the darkened streets flow past the window. The outcome of the evening was not sitting well with you. It felt like the wrong ending. Like the writer had made a terrible mistake and it just needed a brutal treatment by an editor. Unfortunately, real life did not work that way.
At the brush of his fingers against yours on the seat between you, you looked to him quickly, swallowing tightly as he took your hand and squeezed tightly.
“Thank you, Betty spaghetti, for helping me make it through the insanity of awards season. I’m sorry we’re not on the winning team tonight…” His voice waivered a bit and your fingers tightened around his. “But we’re on the living team and that’s in no small part to you…”
You shook your head, a touch violently, and took an unsteady breath as your heart clenched in sympathy.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Butler. What you have accomplished is truly extraordinary…d..did you hear them? Every time a presenter came on stage they referred to them as a nominee…you will forever be Academy Award Nominee Austin Butler. And not to mention Golden Globe Winner Austin Butler, and BAFTA winner Austin Butler, and Virtuoso Award Winner Austin Butler, and whatever Palm Springs gave you…” You trailed off and he gave you a laugh, with tear-filled eyes, as that definitely took some of the power out of your speech. “But regardless, this is just the start. Your opening act.” You nodded firmly and gasped as he pulled you into a crushing embrace, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder.
“Thank you, Betty…I really needed to hear that…” He whispered, voice fragile against your neck and you could feel the undeniable dampness of tears on your skin as you slid your arms around him tightly in return, holding him firmly for as long as he needed to be held.
“You’re welcome” You murmured softly into the expensive fabric of his tuxedo jacket, neither of you aware of the fact that Ari had parked around the corner from the restaurant a good five minutes ago until he politely cleared his throat.
“Sorry to interrupt but I believe a photographer may have spotted us.” He said quietly from the front seat and Austin quickly straightened, wiping at his face.
You pulled back with similar speed, tugging your dress into place before sliding out from the car to walk around the perimeter and open his door. Walking together, he entered the party to a hero’s welcome, which brought a small smile to his face.
Being swarmed by those who had seen firsthand what it had taken to achieve the artistry captured on film for eternity acted as a balm for Austin. You found the tension and concern leaving your own body a little as he relaxed and seemed to enjoy himself. And when Jerry Schilling showed up? Austin’s smile only grew. You had to chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from beaming as they huddled close on a bench in the courtyard, swapping stories and kind words. Austin’s instincts to come here had definitely been correct.
He ate a somewhat proper dinner and once buoyed by their love and support, made his way to you a little over an hour later.
“We should go meet the stylists at the house to get ready for the Vanity Fair party.”
You nodded quickly, having been eyeing the time and trying to wait as long as possible to allow him to soak in as much of their presence as he could.
“Ari is waiting exactly where we left him.”
While he went upstairs to change, you took advantage of the quiet moment to eat some dinner yourself, sitting at the island as you carefully enjoyed some leftovers with a tea towel draped over your chest. Biscuit was dozing at your feet, somewhat used to the odd hours of awards season, but still not entirely awake. The pair of you lifted your heads at the click of his heeled boots on the kitchen tile as he returned now dressed in a treacherously low-cut silk shirt and black suit. You were grateful that you remembered how to swallow the food in your mouth rather than letting it tumble out, slack-jawed. But only just.
“That still smells good, Betty, gimme a bite…” He leaned in and you carefully loaded a forkful before sliding it past his plush lips. You paid far too close attention to the way his perfectly straight, white teeth scraped the food from the metal fork tines before his lips seal shut as he began to chew.
He made the tiniest noise of pleasure and your eyes flicked up to watch his eyelids fall shut as he nodded with enthusiasm.
“We did a really good job on that one…” He smiled once he’d swallowed, squeezing your shoulder as he licked his lips. “I promise I won’t keep you out too late, you must be tired.”
You tugged the tea towel free of your body, not missing the way his eyes flit to the plunge of your dress. His height and your seated position surely giving him an eyeful before he yanked his gaze away forcefully. You slid from the stool to put your dishes in the dishwasher as goosebumps prickled in the wake of his stare.
“We are going to a party for you to have fun and celebrate the fact that this insanity is over. We will stay exactly as long as you would like.” You replied stubbornly and left Biscuit with dinner before leading him out to the car.
In the dark of the vehicle, you retrieved the tube of lipstick the makeup team had left you from your dress pocket and carefully reapplied some, trying to ignore the sensation that he was watching you.
In the ranking of afterparties, this was certainly the most press intense. There was also a rather breathless moment where Austin’s ex-girlfriend happened past him while he was in conversation with Sharon Stone. Mercifully, everyone did an excellent job of playing blind and after an assault of photography flash and shouted commands, you were inside the party.
There was mixing, mingling, drinking, and nibbling. Kate, Baz, Catherine and some of the Elvis cast also appeared. At one point Austin was pulled aside to have some photos taken by Mark Seliger. There was no shortage of toasts in his name, and when Brendan Fraser arrived he immediately sought Austin out to hug him close. Smiling fondly, you felt your phone begin to vibrate in your pocket and rolled your eyes playfully thinking Maddie was going on another tirade. Given the time, she really ought to be in bed.
You could barely contain your confusion when your father’s name displayed on the screen and felt a cold trickle of panic drip down your spine to settle in the pit of your stomach. Your father never called. Let alone in the middle of the night. You forcefully pushed the answer call button and lifted the phone to your ear, eyes casting about for somewhere quieter but also flicking back to Austin – torn between the urgency of this call and the importance of your duties.
“Hey dad, I…What’s up?” You found yourself half-shouting as you cupped the bottom of the phone to hopefully capture as much of your voice as possible.
Only select words were audible above the din of the crowd and the throb of the bass from the music.
“….mother….town….mugged….hospital….ok….”
Austin was making his way over to you excitedly talking about a private island in the Bahamas that someone had offered for him to relax upon as you felt all the blood drain from your face and extremities, the snippets of your father’s words making your hands clammy and shaky.
“Daddy, just wait I can’t…” You glanced around frantically now, vaguely registering the change in Austin’s countenance.
His arms wrapped around you, hands gripping your hips as he easily navigated through the crowd to lead you out onto the patio. He did not stop walking until he reached the very edge of the party and continued to shield your body from the curious glances of the other attendees you had passed, caging you against the fence as you could at last hear yourself think.
“I’m outside now, what happened?” You tried again, feeling yourself swaying a little on your feet as he relayed the full story of some local troubled youths who had decided to mug your mother and her friends on their monthly night at the theatre in town.
You clutched at the lapel of Austin’s jacket, desperate for some stability as the entire universe seemed to be off kilter.
“Your mother’s friend, Cynthia, well she fought back and it…didn’t end well. Everyone is…well they’re hurt but the hospital discharged them all same day, today…well tonight.” You could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “She’s just gone up to bed, told me not to call you but…”
You shook your head quickly and swallowed roughly, trying to find your voice.
“No, no thank you for calling me I…she’s really going to be ok?” You asked quietly, feeling all of six-years-old despite the fact that you were standing in a gown at the Vanity Fair Oscar’s After Party wrapped up in Austin Butler’s protective embrace. “I…tell her I love her ok, Dad? I’ll…I’ll talk to my boss…No I…Dad. Dad, I want to see you guys I…thank you for calling. Love you too. Bye.”
You let the phone drop from your ear but made no move to stand fully, rather preferring to hide against Austin’s chest and ignore the outside revelry for as long as possible. You leaned into him, the crown of your head settling against the hollow of his throat as his arms slid around you fully, supporting you more than you would care to admit as you tried to take steady breaths.
“Betty, I would like to give you time, I just need to know you’re not going to keel over on me here…” He murmured gently into your ear. You nodded quickly, rocking back on your heels and straightening so quickly he looked briefly startled before resuming a patient and supportive expression.
“Some little shits decided to jump my mom and her friends on their way home from a play tonight.” Your gaze was unfocused as you were picturing the faces of the known delinquents.
“Oh Betty…” His voice broke as he gripped your shoulders tightly to help steady you on your feet.
“My mom…she’s not like me, she’s a lady. She does lady things like get her nails done, and bake, and go to the spa and the theatre and…This is not how tonight was supposed to go. She was supposed to have fun with her friends watching some local people do a Tennessee Williams play and get a little tipsy and come home….and you were supposed to win because you deserve it so much. You put everything in that role, which was incredible by the way” you dropped the wall of professionalism for the first time, “and you’ve dragged your ass around in this dog and pony show, performing tricks for them for weeks only for them to give it to the other guy and now here you are putting on a brave face and watching me fall apart at an after party…” Your cheeks were wet and you’d started sniffling somewhere in the middle of your tirade against awards season, though you weren’t quite sure when.
“Oh, my darling Betty…sweet Betty spaghetti don’t waste your anger on this frivolity. We’ve spent months on this empty preening for golden statutes and here you are staring down the things that really matter and you’re spilling your priceless tears over me…” his hands cupped the sides of your head gently as his thumbs swiped at each traitorous tear that stole down your cheek. “Let’s get you home, ok?”
You gripped his wrists and looked up to him, brow furrowing.
“But I’m ruining your night…” You protested weakly as he shook his head.
“You’re reminding me of what really matters, come on.” He slid his arm around your shoulders protectively, guiding you back through the crowd of attendees.
You kept your head low, certain your makeup must be ruined, arranging for Ari to meet you at the side door. Austin helped you into the car and pulled out his own phone once you were settled.
“You find a way home, I’ll call Scott.”
You looked to him startled.
“Like…right now? I meant…I meant once you were on your vacation or something…”
“Now, Betty. You’re going home, home. Now.” He nodded firmly and dialed Scott before you could utter another word in protest.
Swallowing tightly, you pulled out your phone to make travel arrangements to get home as soon as possible. He went upstairs to change when you arrived back at his house, and you went into his office to pack but he found you fifteen minutes later, still standing in the doorway dressed in your gown, staring at your empty suitcase open on the bed.
“C’mere…” He said gently and pulled you close into the soft hoodie he now wore. “Facing the mortality of our parents is a truly foundation-shaking experience.” He murmured into your hair, and you nodded speechlessly.
He helped you fill your suitcase with some clothes and useful things, sending you to the washroom to change into something more practical for travel. You wiped the makeup from your face and blew your nose a few times before collecting your things.
“Are you sure about this, Austin? I could always delay…”
He cut you off with a shake of his head, gently pressing his lips to your cheek.
“I’ll be fine, you go take care of your family.”
In your fragile state, you had been easily seduced by his words of comfort. Fooled into believing that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he would be perfectly fine in your absence. That there wasn’t a psychologically unstable woman out there hellbent on killing him for the spiritual transgressions she so strongly believed he had committed.
It had been the right thing, for you personally, to go home. It felt good to be in the embrace of family, to gather with the people you loved and support one another after such a scare. It had admittedly been far too long since you had been home, regardless, and you made a vow to not let it be so long in the future. On Wednesday, Maddie and her mother came by with a casserole and you took is to the kitchen to allow them a chance to visit with your parents – to let them relax in the living room.
The shot of the coastal highway on the TV screen in the corner of the kitchen caught your eye as you began to assemble a salad to balance the richness of the casserole. It screamed for your attention, despite its anonymous, sundrenched beauty. Grasping the salad bowl tightly, you reached out to turn up the volume, your eyes skating over the variety of emergency vehicles assembled at the scene…the automotive debris scattered across the asphalt. That’s when his name splashed across the screen.
 Austin Butler in Critical Condition
“The award-winning actor was transported by rescue helicopter to Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre where he is listed in critical condition. His driver was taken by ambulance to a nearby hospital in stable condition. The female driver of the vehicle suspected of running him off the road was pronounced dead at the scene. The FBI is now confirming that she was their primary suspect in a string a threatening letters sent to the actor…”
You had not even noticed the heirloom crystal bowl slide from your fingers and shatter against the kitchen tile until Maddie called your name sharply from the doorway. You glanced down through rapidly blurring eyes and swore thickly, crouching down to quickly pick up the scattered shards. Shock had stolen all sensation from your fingertips, the countless nicks on your skin marked only by red blossoms of blood.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Maddie shouted and yanked you back at which point you collapsed against her sobbing. You had failed him. You had left for selfish personal reasons and now he was clinging to life alone in a hospital room.
Several Band-Aids and a cup of tea later, you were once again packing your suitcase. The gut-wrenching reaction to his accident had equalled that you’d felt for your own mother. And was hanging around like a bad penny, filling you to the brim with nervous energy. There was no possible way you could deny what Austin meant to you any longer. You would only be lying to yourself. To him. And he deserved better than that.
“You’re gonna make it to LA ok?” Maddie asked quietly as she zipped up your suitcase and you sighed heavily.
“I’ll do my best, Mads…thank you…” You hugged her tightly before saying proper farewells to your parents and heading out.
It was well past visiting hours when you arrived at the hospital, but you’d called Scott on the way and he was there waiting to lead you up to Austin’s hospital room.
“He’s been upgraded to stable condition, you’ll be relieved to know.” He informed you as the doors to the elevator closed.
“Scott I’m so sorry I…” You looked to him as you rose floor by floor.
He looked to you startled.
“What on earth…sorry you weren’t there to get hurt? There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this. Nothing you could have done in that car but increase the list of injured or worse. Thank hell you weren’t there…How’s your mom?” He asked quickly and you smiled just the hint of a smile.
“So much better…I…it was good to see her.”
“Good.” He nodded firmly and led you to the room where an armed police officer watched the door. He introduced you to the man as Austin’s bodyguard, all pretense now dropped in light of the story having gone public since the accident, and quietly led you into the room where Austin lay. “I’ll leave you to it…” He whispered and nodded before stepping out.
Because the unit was a higher level of care, the door remained open to the nursing station to allow them to keep an eye on him, but he otherwise had the spacious room to himself. The bed and monitoring equipment only served to make him look small. You pressed your fingers to your lips, trying to smother your shaking breaths as they seemed to thunder in the otherwise quiet room. The only other sound was the beeping of his heart rate monitor – reassuringly steady.
Your eyes scanned across his face and down his body, taking stock of marks that would bruise and numerous abrasions. The image of him beneath the stark white, antiseptic blankets began to blur and you sealed your hand over your mouth as you tried to focus on the expanse of the city lights out the window beside him, tried to regain your composure, when you heard him rasp your name.
You moved closer to the head of the bed, leaning in to see his eyes made glassy from pain medication trying to focus on your face.
“Austin, I’m here…” He reached out with his left hand and you took it carefully, trying to wipe your tears away quickly with your other.
“Oh Betty, there you go wastin’ those tears again…” He murmured and you couldn’t help but laugh.
He chuckled briefly before wincing with a groan and you frowned deeply.
“Jus’ some broken ribs, I’ll be all right…”
“Shit…I shoulda been there Austin…I’m so sorry…” You whispered, fresh tears spilling from your eyes.
He reached with his free hand, grunting in pain as he wiped at your face, only making your lip wobble, sobs building in your throat.
“I have to resign.” You choked out suddenly and his eyes flashed to your face.
“What jus’ because you weren’t here?!” He asked incredulously, words slightly slurred.
Shaking your head, you took a deep, fortifying breath.
“I’ve gone and done something I shouldn’t.” You whispered.
His brow furrowed as he looked at you quizzically.
“I’ve fallen in love with the client.” You confessed, holding your breath as you were only brave enough to risk glances at his face before looking back for your entwined hands.
“Oh, thank god” he exhaled after what felt like an eternity and released your hand, cupping the back of your neck to pull you close.
You braced your hands on other side of the hospital bed, not wanting to jostle him, to cause him any pain, as you brushed your lips against his gently.
“You’d better give me a better kiss than that…” He teased, mouth moving against yours as he held you stubbornly close.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Austin…” You protested, feeling the rough edges of the abraded side of lips against your own.
“I’ve been dyin’ to kiss ya since you threw Marwan into the floor in Palm Springs…please….” He whispered.
“How much medication have you had…” You hissed, half playful, half mortified, still hovering above his lips.
He whined your name, completely washing away the last of your resolve and you slotted your mouth against his firmly, shifting your weight onto one hand to slide the other into his hair on the uninjured side of his face. He hummed against your lips eagerly, fingers curling into the skin at the base of your neck as his lips moved against yours needily. You sighed deeply, warmth spreading through your entire body, until a politely rapping on the door frame had you quickly pulling back from his lips.
“So sorry to interrupt…” The nurse could barely contain her grin as she came in to check Austin over, noting his vitals in his electronic chart, before leaving you two alone.
“Guess I don’t get a vacation…” He pouted playfully and you shook your head, pulling up a chair to settle at the head of his bed.
“One day at a time, Austin…Let’s get you home first, ok? And for that to happen, you need to sleep…” You smoothed his brow with your thumb, fingertips stroking his curls.
“Just wanted to go to the beach while the groomers got Biscuit ready for our trip…the car came outta nowhere…They said Ari is ok, he’s really ok, right?” He rambled sleepily.
“Yes, at a hospital in Santa Barbara, stable just like you.” You reassured him gently.
“You’ll be here when I wake up…? You’ll stay?” He whispered with open fragility.
“Yes, I’ll be right here Austin…rest…”
“Love you, too…” He breathed.
You smiled softly as he closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep, clinging to your other hand.
Sleeping in a chair with your hand trapped in his grip was hardly comfortable, nor were the frequent interruptions by the nurses to check his vitals and administer frequent cognitive tests – you surmised the reason was a concussion he had neglected to share with you, restful. But there was honestly no other place in the entire world you would have rather been. Daylight brought the arrival of his father and you moved to step out, but Austin insisted you stay.
He held his hand out to you once he’d settled back into the bed following a nurse assisted bathroom trip. You shyly avoided the knowing smile of his father, sliding your fingers through his. The attending physician arrived not long after and delivered the full litany of Austin’s injuries. You clung to his hand silently as his father asked the follow-up questions, doing your utmost to fight back the urge to let the guilt overwhelm you once more.
“We anticipate that Mr. Butler will be able to head home tomorrow but he will absolutely require assistance in his home, including supportive devices, and physiotherapy as he recovers.”
You heard Austin’s father suck the air between his teeth, knowing he had a life and responsibilities of his own back in Arizona while you? Well, you were recently unemployed and more than willing to take the time off to care for the man you loved.
“I’ll be happy to take care of everything.” You swallowed and looked to Austin. “If you’re ok with that?”
He looked to you, face softening.
“I am more than ok with that, you beautiful woman…” He sighed lovingly and lifted your hand to kiss the back of it gently.
“Wonderful, I’ll send in Occupational Therapy to help you prepare for his homecoming.” The physician departed just as Kate appeared, looking fresh off the plane from somewhere tropical. She even smelled of coconut suntan lotion.
Though he was still quite medicated, Kate worked with Austin to determine the loose parameters of a press release before she set up in the corner of the room, calling her team to hammer it out. Austin’s father pulled you into a grateful hug before making a trip to cafeteria for coffee and food for the three of you and you remained at Austin’s side as he still refused to release your hand.
Once everyone was fed, the nurses insisted Austin needed his rest. Kate took Austin’s father home while you met with OT in a nearby conference room, arranging for the necessary items to be delivered. You gave Trey a call to make sure he could let the deliveries in, before creeping back into the room to doze some more in the chair. As visiting hours came to a close, you left a pouting Austin for the night, placating him with the knowledge that you were going to his house to set up for him to come home in the morning.
You were struck by the scent of flowers when you stepped into the house, every surface on the main floor covered in floral arrangements from friends, family, colleagues, and acquaintances. The second thing you noticed was a very enthusiastic Biscuit who was surely very confused and lonely but looked very good from her well-timed trip to the groomer’s.
Austin’s father already had a head start when you arrived, setting up the shower chair and the supportive pillows on the bed. The last thing that had to be done was taking the mattress from the murphy bed in the office to lay on the floor of Austin’s bedroom so that you could be close by to assist him in moving around. You made up the beds with fresh sheets before passing out for the night with Biscuit in your arms, alarm set for six the next morning.
You showered and ate the breakfast that Austin’s father generously prepared for the two of you before you got the discharge call from the nurse. The pair of you headed over in Austin’s car to pick him up, greeted by a beaming, lanky man in a wheelchair whose mood was utter elation at being released. In a group effort, the three of you got him to his feet and into the front seat of the car, buckling him in and closing the door before taking him home.
The next few weeks were entirely devoted to getting Austin well. His father was able to stay for a few days, cooking all the meals and filling the freezer with food. At first, Austin mainly rested, but you insisted he spend some time on the main floor and outside, keeping him moving to avoid any negative complications. His physiotherapy appointments began after a few days and they carefully taped up his ribs which went a long way to improving his comfort level. His bruises slowly transitioned through the rainbow as they healed, and his abrasions smoothed out. The many kisses he insisted upon helped you to confirm this.
Scott arranged for the FBI to present their findings on the case to Austin at home, and the entire team breathed a sigh of relief when it was confirmed that the deceased driver was indeed the woman responsible for the threats and letters. With the case now closed, the contract with Lane Protective Services was ended and you found yourself alone in the house with Austin. His sister, Ashley, made a weekend visit, but on the whole his home was one of peace and solitude. One in which your rather young relationship blossomed.
As his strength increased, you began to take him on short walks with Biscuit, choosing to still carry your firearm. It would take some time, it seemed, for you to shake that habit. On a particularly warm day at the beginning of April, at Austin’s request, you settled out on the pool deck in bathing suits to soak up some sun. You found yourself smiling as you looked over his torso.
“You can barely see your bruises.” You remarked softly, fingers brushing along his side gently, well aware that he still had healing ribs beneath.
“Must be thanks to you, sweet Betty, taking such good care of me…” He grinned, hand grasping your wrist to lift your fingertips to kiss each one.
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before pulling your lower lip to sink your teeth into it as he pressed his mouth to your palm.
“If my body wasn’t still broken…” He groaned against your skin.
“S…s..sorry.” You apologized quickly, accidentally licking your lips again.
He growled a little and cupped to back of your head, pulling you down for a hungry kiss. His lips had barely pressed against yours before his tongue was licking into your mouth, seeking yours eagerly. Sinking onto your knees on the pool deck, you braced yourself on the arm of the lounger, trying desperately to keep your body weight off of him as he seemed to be sucking the strength from your body, turning your bones into molten metal.
He pulled back with a grunt, gasping for breath as he wasn’t able to hold deep breaths just yet, but immediately moved to trail his lips down your neck, punctuating his kisses with gentle nips of his teeth that had you trembling above him.
“Austin…” You panted. “You gotta be careful…” Your warning was choked off into a moan as he sealed his mouth over your pulse point and began to suck at your skin making your control waiver.
You pushed yourself back from him, chest heaving, terrified as you’d almost crashed into him.
“Come back…” He pouted huskily, licking his lips.
“Austin…fuck I almost fell on you this isn’t safe…” You rasped, voice obviously affected.
You watched as he pulled and chewed at his lips for a moment before carefully pushing himself to sitting and then to standing.
“Come on…” He held out his hand and you took it carefully, following after him suspiciously, but also unable to deny the heat of desire pulsing through your veins.
He made a brief detour to the kitchen, setting up Biscuit with a puzzle toy before taking you upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind you.
“Lay on the bed beside me? Then you can’t fall?”
“What if I move too much?”
“I’ll tell you if it hurts, sweet Betty, I just need to touch you so badly…” He whispered heatedly as he cupped your cheeks, stealing the breath from your lungs, before leaning in to press his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that easily erased any and all reason from your mind.
He carefully walked you over to the bed, sliding up onto the pile of pillows, looking back to you expectantly once he was settled. You gingerly crawled onto the bed next to him, laying on your side as you shifted closer until you were within his reach. He pulled you close, mouth latching onto your neck once more, pulling another ragged moan from your throat as one hand came to knead at your hip and butt cheek.
Moving slowly, you slid your leg over his, giving him ample time to protest in pain before your thigh pressed against the growing bulge between his thighs. When no outcry of pain reached our ears, only a shuddering sigh against your damp skin that sent goosebumps racing down your neck, you applied subtle pressure and friction, pleased when his lips crashed into yours once more. Burying one hand into his golden curls, you allowed the other to skim down the muscles of his chest and abdomen, tracing the hard planes beneath his smooth, soft skin.
You felt his hand shift to cup between your legs, your hips bucking into his touch involuntarily as he stroked at your folds through the thin fabric of your swimsuit with his long, elegant fingers, confirming your long-suspected hypothesis that he was indeed very good with his hands. You tore your lips from his to cry out eagerly as his skilled digits pushed aside the inconvenient fabric to touch your bare skin, immediately seeking your sensitive bundle of nerves. His head shifted lower to kiss and nip at your cleavage before huffing against your chest in frustration.
“Can you take off your suit for me?” He pleaded hoarsely, looking up to you with blown pupils, only a tiny ring of blue iris now surrounding them.
Licking your lips you nodded, carefully disentangling your limbs from his to shift back, sliding from the bed to work the suit from your body. You could feel the heat of his gaze as he watched you expose your body, the moisture evaporating from your mouth, making it impossible to swallow as you climbed back onto the bed with him.
“You are unspeakably gorgeous…” He breathed, reaching out to pull you close to him, lavishing kisses along every inch of exposed skin he could now access as his fingers resumed their torment of your clit, the pad of his thumb circling and pressing at your entrance.
“Ahn! Austin!” You whimpered, bending the knee of your top leg and planting your foot between his calves to give him more room to work, admittedly greedy for his touch.
“Sweet girl you’re positively drenched…” He breathed against your breast before sealing his lips around your nipple, sinking a finger into the heat of your cunt.
You wailed and arched against him at the dual assault, fingers tugging at his hair before holding him to your breast needily. Rocking the heel of his hand against your clit, he began to rhythmically work his finger in and out of your heat before adding a second, growling hungrily against your skin at the eager gush of arousal your body rewarded him with. He withdrew his hand from between your legs, making you whimper at the loss, eyes flashing open only to be treated to the sight of him devouring every drop of your nectar from his hand.
“Oh, please I need to taste you…” He pleaded, hooded eyes burning into yours. “Can you get above me?”
You did not need a second invitation. With legs like jelly, it was more challenging than first anticipated, but with the assistance of the frame around the top of the bed you were able to kneel on the pillows on either side of his head before sinking down onto his eagerly waiting mouth. He barely gave you a moment to breathe before his wicked tongue was working through your folds, his lips slurping up your arousal, filling the room with an obscene mixture of noise as you moaned helplessly. He suckled at your clit before burying the pointed length of his tongue deep into your cunt, hooking his good arm over your hip to pull you down and encourage you to grind your bundle of nerves against his nose as he rocked his head from side to side. You pressed your face into your bicep as your thighs began to shake, eyes clenching shut as you could feel yourself just on the precipice.
One hand moved to cup your breast, massaging and pinching at your nipple as you gave in and rocked dock against Austin’s face, earning a deep moan from the man below you. The vibrations ricocheted through your body and sent you surging forward, tumbling into your release with a harsh cry of his name. Slumping forward against the wall, wave after wave of shuddering pleasure flowed through your body as you felt him avidly lap up all your body had to offer until you had to pull back, climb off him, as it was just too much – you were too sensitive.
Settling onto the mattress beside him, you leaned in to kiss Austin warmly, giggling a little at his face was soaked. He just grinned at you proudly. Rolling over, you found some tissues on the nightstand and gently wiped at his cheeks and chin before tossing them into the bin on the floor beside him, the prominent outline of his hard cock beneath his swim trunks catching your eye.
“Would you like some assistance with this?” You asked, sitting at his hip and running your fingers along the waistband of his suit.
His teeth sunk into the plush pink of his lower lip as he nodded, and you worked together to slide the bathing suit off his hips and down his legs. It was not the first time you had seen him naked – you had been helping him shower, towel off, and change since his return from the hospital, but this was different. And not just because his sizable length lay hard and angry against his abdomen. The intention set the tone, this was about pleasure, and you allowed yourself to enjoy the full expanse of his sun-kissed, freckled skin.
“Unspeakably gorgeous, was it?” You breathed and reached up to cup the tip of his length, collecting the precum that pooled there before wrapping your fingers around him, stroking his cock and delighting in the way it made the muscles of his abdomen flutter.
“Oh fuck…” He hissed, writhing against the duvet.
Licking your lips, you slithered down onto your stomach, planting an elbow between his legs and laying your chest across his uninjured hip as you licked a broad stripe from base to tip, grinning as his hips jerked towards your mouth. His whimper reminded you to be merciful and you gently began to sink your mouth down onto him, taking as much of his cock as this angle would allow, leaving your lips parted to allow your saliva to flow freely over his rest of his length and further down between his thighs.
He moaned your name as you wrapped your hand around the base of him before you began to work up and down, hollowing your cheeks and tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. He whimpered and rambled, fingers gripping the back of your head. You hummed in sympathy, and he writhed beneath you, length twitching against your tongue.
“Please! Oh, please get back up here I wanna kiss you when I cum, wanna pretend I’m inside you…” He pleaded and you pulled back, releasing his cock from your mouth with a pop, before laying on your side.
His lips crashed against yours as you slid your leg over his, hand resuming the rhythm of your mouth. His hand gripped your ass and his hips rocked in time with the strokes of your fist. You found yourself grinding your still-damp core against his thigh, earning a ragged groan against your lips.
“Gonna…gonna…” He panted and you opened your eyes to take in as much of his face as he could, his breath panting into your open mouth before he gave a sharp cry and spilled his climax against his stomach as you continued to gently stroke his length to prolong his pleasure.
As the tension left his body, allowing him to sink into the mattress, you kissed the corner of his mouth softly and retrieved a warm washcloth to clean him up. You helped him into his pajamas, frowning as he gave tiny hisses of pain, but the lopsided grin never left his lips.
A pathetic awooo from the hallway alerted you to the fact that Biscuit was well finished with her puzzle toy and now aware of her locked-out status. You quickly slid on your own pajamas before scooping her up from the doorway to settle her at Austin’s good hip to allow the pair to settle in for an afternoon nap.
He only continued to get stronger as his bones and ligaments healed, yourself and Biscuit joining him in bed nightly by the end of April. And while creative solutions were keeping the pair of you satisfied enough, when Austin’s physician finally cleared him for more strenuous activity, both of you admittedly had the same thought.
The evening began innocently enough, with a nice dinner the two of you made together, with a delicious wine now that Austin was no longer on pain medication. You talked for hours, still in the beginning stages of your relationship where there was more to discover about one another, before cleaning up the kitchen. Yet it ended with you on your back, legs hanging off the side of the mattress, propped up on your elbows as you salaciously watched him indulgently stroke his cock a few times before carefully rolling the condom down his length.
Chest heaving, cunt throbbing from the orgasm he had just wrung from you and the promise of him inside you at last, you chewed your lip impatiently.
“Don’t you go damaging those plush pretty lips, sweet Betty, I like kissing them far too much.” He leaned down carefully to prove his point, the wet muscle of his tongue twining with yours until you were both humming with need.
He straightened, guiding your hips to the very edge of the bed before sliding his length through the slick of your folds, gathering as much as possible while teasing your clit before shifting to slowly begin sinking into your wet heat. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you dropped back onto the mattress, keening softly as you gripped his wrists while he stretched and filled you impossibly full.
“Oh my…fuck you feel so good…” He hissed above you, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips.
“Oh yes…” You panted in return, rocking your hips against his experimentally, a chorus of moans falling from both of your lips.
It was all the motivation he needed to pull his hips back before immediately sinking back into your demanding warmth. And while you wished he were closer, wished you could be wrapped up in his arms, it was amazing to finally feel so connected to him, completed by him.
“Austin!” You exclaimed, too overwhelmed to put the emotions swirling in your chest into more words beyond his name.
“I know….I know…” He panted between thrusts. “I love…you too…” He moaned your name raggedly and rocked harder, thrust faster, pushing you ever closer to release.
“Love…you…” You whimpered in return, feeling your walls starting to clamp down around him.
“Oh, fuck yes…” He quickly reached for your clit, circling it in a way that he knew after weeks of practice would make you cum, and growled happily as you did just that, scratching at his forearms a little as you clenched around his length through wave after wave of climax. “Yes!” He barked out triumphantly before thrusting erratically once, twice more, joining you in release.
You could feel him sway on his feet, recognizing that though the position had kept pressure and impact from his body it had demanded tremendous physical effort of him. You quickly shifted back to slide his length from you before guiding him to sit on the bed. Peppering his face with kisses, you rid him of the condom and then helped him into his pajamas, noticing the winces.
“Would you like heat or cold for that?” You frowned, guiding him to lay down.
“Heat please…” He sighed a little. “So worth it though…” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes playfully before kissing him gently.
“Well, it’s a good thing I left the mattress on the floor. Biscuit and I will let you have the bed tonight.” You teased before getting him some over-the-counter pain killers and a heating pad.
Tucking away the stairs that helped Biscuit access the bed, you and the dog curled up on the mattress on the floor beside him, kissing the tips of his fingers as he dropped his hand down while wishing you a good night before his slow, steady breaths filled the room.
Biscuit’s low growl startled you awake some hours later and you lay perfectly still, trying to locate the source of her upset. The less-than-subtle sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs not seconds later provided you with a very clear answer and had you surging to your feet. Your firearm was locked in a small safe on the other side of the bed and based on the speed of the approaching intruder in the hallway, you did not have time. You shook Austin awake as you launched yourself over the foot of the bed just before the door flew open, the metal of a gun barrel flashing in the glow of the streetlights from the hallway.
You surged up, under the intruder’s arm to push the muzzle upwards as he pulled the trigger, sending the bullet into the ceiling in a shower of drywall and paint chips. Biscuit was barking at a ferocious pitch you had never before heard as you struggled with the shadowy figure’s bulk, trying to wrestle the gun free. Another shot was directed into the hardwood floor before you were able to claw the gun from his hand. His elbow snapped back, slamming into your nose with a sickening crunch. A gush of warmth down your face and the coppery tang of blood filled your mouth – an oddly nostalgic sensation that took you right back to a Judo match.
The intruder let out a sudden wail and jerked back, and you felt something fluffy dart past your legs. Biscuit had scored one for the home team. The gun now fully in your grasp, you threw it into the ensuite bathroom before taking down the freshly bitten man with a Judo throw while he was distracted by the pain. You knelt in the middle of his back, pinning his arms behind him.
“Austin, I need something to tie him!” You cried out, listening to his footfalls as he made his way from the ensuite, where he must have been hiding, to the nightstand, and then over to the foot of the bed where you were.
He procured a pair of silver handcuffs and you looked to him in slight disbelief, before gesturing with your head for him to secure the assailant’s hands.
“I’m going to put him in the chair, don’t want to compromise his airway any longer….he’s probably going to say terrible things…”
“I’m ready, Betty.” Austin said through gritted teeth and you hauled the incapacitated man to his feet before forcing him down onto the chair of the built-in makeup stand that Austin’s former girlfriend had designed. “Turn on the lights?”
Everyone blinked rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness, and you swore under your breath as you recognized the dog-walking, brick-throwing, psychopath-loving man who was supposed to be in prison in Santa Barbara.
“Gabriel.” You muttered in shock.
“You fucking godless whore bitch!” He spit at you and you didn’t bother moving, not wanting to loosen your grip on him.
You had Austin call the police on speaker phone while you strapped the man to the chair with a series of belts, as he continued to spew hate and vitriol at both you and Austin.
“Betty you’re bleeding…” Austin whispered at one point, trying to wipe at your face.
“Later…” You whispered back, not wanting to take an eye off the man.
“The love of my life is dead because of the two of you! She was a righteous woman! How is she dead and the two of you are alive! You do not deserve to walk this earth!”
The police, thankfully, showed up rather quickly and took the man back into custody. They collected the man’s firearm from the ensuite, as well the bullets from the floor and ceiling, before taking your statements and assuring you that these charges would keep the man locked up for a much longer time than throwing bricks.
You allowed Austin to pull you into the bathroom once they’d left, sitting on the counter patiently as he gently cleaned the blood from your face before testing your nose.
“I don’t think it’s broken…”
You shook your head carefully.
“Just a solid whack. I’ll have a nice pair of black eyes tomorrow, most likely.”
He frowned deeply and kissed your forehead.
“Oh, Betty I’m so sorry…”
“I’m not. That bastard deserved worse than Biscuit gave him…We should get her some extra treats.” You smiled weakly as he snorted into your hair.
“I’m going to get the ice and then the three of us are booking that damn vacation to an island far away. Deal?”
You nodded your acquiescence and it was less that thirty-six hours from the time you confirmed the booking, snuggled up against him with an ice pack pressed against your face, to the time you were sitting on a private island in the Bahamas. Biscuit was darting back and forth between you on the sand, chasing a tiny crab, making the pair of you laugh.
“Terrifying little guard dog…” Austin smirked and shifted to sit next to you, sliding an arm around your waist.
“Invaluable asset, she is.” You nodded with a grin; your black eyes hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses.
“Betty spaghetti, I love you, you know that?” He kissed your temple, making you smile softly.
“Yes, I do, Mr. Butler.” You grinned. “Love you, too Austin.” You pulled him in for a kiss.
“I’ve been meaning to ask though…” You smirked when he eventually pulled back to allow you both a chance to catch your breath and he raised a curious eyebrow. “…about those handcuffs in your nightstand…”
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If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist
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Tag List: @littlewhiterose, @austinsvlrslut, @emrysdreams, @slowsweetlove, @xstrengthxinxtragedyx, @shelbygeek, @kingdomforapony, @artlover8992, @eliseinmemphis, @haydensith, @breadsquash, @chimchimjiminie16, @qxiva, @lilsiz, @18lkpeters
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thegroovywitch · 1 year
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“Having kicked off in Atlanta, the US tour worked its way across the south to the West Coast, then looped back round towards Madison Square Garden. We had recorded the Long Beach Auditorium and the Forum with Eddie Kramer in 1972, and I’d managed to get hold of him again to record the upcoming Madison Square Garden shows in New York. It had also been decided that the Madison Square Garden shows would be filmed. Eddie was going to take care of the recording, doing the engineering in the truck while we were playing.
Meanwhile, touring on the West Coast, I had developed a tendon problem in my left ring finger, which is really important for doing string bending and finger tremolos. When I was playing the guitar, it felt as though I was getting an electric shock down the finger. I had to wear a wrist support when I wasn’t playing. It was an absolute nuisance of a thing to happen, because we were then working our way back towards the East Coast and our date with the silver screen.
There was no obvious cause. I didn’t want to think that it was some kind of repetitive strain injury, because if that were the case it could carry on being a problem. Instead I put it down to an incident when I had caught my finger trying to climb up a wire fence. But there was no sign of any external injury; it was definitely a problem within the hand.
That whole tour was literally touch and go, if you’ll excuse the pun, leading up to New York. I actually developed a technique to avoid using the finger. I thought, well, if Django Reinhardt could play with two fingers, I could probably play with three. I was struggling to do the best I could under the circumstances and trying to put out of my mind how fast those East Coast dates in Baltimore, Pittsburgh and then New York were approaching. But, mercifully, by the time we got to New York my finger was fine.
So that’s a little bit of extra drama that didn’t make it into the film. Everybody gets injured, and it’s not worth making a song and dance about it. I certainly wasn’t thinking about cancelling anything. I just had to think, OK, I need to overcome this the best way I can.”
— Jimmy Page: the Anthology
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droughtofapathy · 10 hours
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"Welcome to the Theatre": Diary of a Broadway Baby
Cabaret
April 24, 2024 | Broadway | August Wilson Theatre | Evening | Musical | Original | 2H 45M + 1H preshow
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I am kicking my feet and twirling my feet as I lovingly, tenderly, reverently carve Bebe Neuwirth's name into the Tony personally.
Bebe Neuwirth Verdict: My Soul Transcended Space and Time
A Note on Ratings
Oh. The rest of the show. Right.
Cabaret is one of the greatest pieces of musical theatre to exist. I have seen four productions of this show on multiple "levels" of production (Broadway, community, regional, etc.) The show being what it is, it seems inconceivable to ever stage a poor production of a show with such rich material. Even if the talent pool came from a small town, the music, the lyrics, the story would be so strong, so moving, so timeless, that nothing coupled possibly ruin it.
I was wrong.
The fifth Broadway revival of this beloved Kander and Ebb musical is a stagnant spectacle whose price tag seems to actively encourage its potential audience to pick up their knitting, their book, and their broom, because the holiday of the Kit Kat Club is only meant for the rich denizens of society. Helmed by a director with no prior experience in musical theatre, the show fundamentally mistrusts its audience's intelligence and the once-masterful subtext is now about as subtle as a brick through a fruit shop window.
It's a bad sign when the security staffer at the entrance line tells you the design is excellent, the visuals are excellent, "the show is...good," with pointed hesitation and eyebrow raising. What would we do without New York honesty?
Under this new "immersive" direction, patrons enter through a seedy back alley door (with too many steps, which granted, they did warn me about before and I should have listened) and into a massive three-story club design with pre-show entertainment and drinks galore. With limited seating and rather underwhelming acts, my disabled ass went to my seat in the theatre instead where the whole auditorium has been gutted and renovated to create a theatre-in-the-round setup that ultimately does not suit the staging. Instead, actors play primarily to the "east" side, leaving the "west" to see a lot of backs throughout.
As characters, the Emcee and Sally are deranged, clownish, and utterly devoid of layers and complexity. They are exactly what their outlandish costumes, garish makeup, and overwrought performances say they are: too much. Eddie Redmayne is going for some kind of demonic muppet clown portrayal. This interpretation fails to do what the character is meant to do. Seduce, entice, enchant, all of which can be done in a morbid or even unsettling way, but Redmayne only ever irritates and repels. Similarly, Sally is an easy character to misunderstand. She's seemingly vapid, ignorant, and concerned with nothing more than having a good time. She's a character on the verge, but only ever on the verge. Too often I have seen performers act out the titular song as a full-blown breakdown. It is not. It is a triumph. It is a discordant celebration as the rest of the show falls into despair. In directing all of Sally's numbers to be as hysterical, unhinged, and off-putting as they are, it's clear the director, the producers, and to an extent, the actress who went along with it, do not understand this character, this story, this world. Less is more. Trust the material. Trust the audience.
Cabaret is a racy show with plenty of lewd and lascivious content. But this production takes the graphic nature to an extreme that ultimately misses the mark. Instead of a seductive coaxing, or even a morbid eroticism, we're granted such overt choreography (a man jerks off a giant black phallus into a woman's mouth, a woman mimes raining her tit milk all over a man's face, a woman graphically masturbates to Mein Kampf) that it becomes a juvenile display. Like children who make sexual jokes to be edgy, but only ever sound immature. It's off-putting, it's annoying, it's dull. There are multiple rewrites to the "Willkommen" introduction schtick, and the new lines are such a downgrade.
There are moments of relief amidst the spectacle that somehow still lacks spectacle. Bebe Neuwirth is a wonder of wonders, and her chemistry with Steven Skybell as Herr Schultz is a miracle of miracles. They are the saving grace of this monstrosity. Age, experience, and deep connection to the writers and the show give their performances a joyous, heartbreaking, beautiful tone. They are real, they are grounded, and they will shatter your heart. These scenes are the only places the director shows she's capable, perhaps because she has only ever done dramatic straight plays. The decision to stage "Married" as a trio with Kost spot-lit and singing in tandem was simple and brilliant and poignant. The way this show is meant to be. "What Would You Do?" is staged perhaps a little oddly, given the director's inability to remember she's doing an in-the-round show, but Bebe's rendition is the best I've ever experienced. I have heard this song sung beautiful by stronger singers, many who still grasp the acting well, but none hold a candle to her. This is a woman who has torn out her own beating heart from her chest as she chooses safety and self-preservation, even if it breaks her. This is a woman who is old and tired and not brave. Who has been given this one moment of happiness in her life and she has no choice but to saw it off like a gangrened limb before it poisons her entire body. Schultz and Schneider are the heart of this show. They deserve better.
It's been said by others, but the issues with this production seems to stem from its creative team's fundamental misunderstanding of Jewish culture. The show was written by three Jewish men who understood what was at stake. They had all lived through WWII. This is a production with a distinctly English tone, directed by gentiles, for gentiles. Broadway and New York, more familiar with Judaism than perhaps the West End, clearly received this revival differently.
Final Verdict: A Long Slog to Curtains
A Note on Ratings
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leonardslee · 7 months
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Michael Harrison for Lloyd Webber Harrison Musicals has announced that Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Starlight Express will return to London in 2024.
This brand-new production will open in a purpose-built, specially designed Starlight Auditorium at Troubadour Wembley Park Theatre, with performances from 8 June 2024.
This new production of Starlight Express promises to fully immerse audiences inside a world of speed, song and storytelling.
A cast of 40 will whizz around and above the audience on roller skates, performing songs including AC/DC, Make Up My Heart, Light at the End of the Tunnel and the iconic Starlight Express.
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