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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Miles Between Us Chapter 13 ~The Reunion~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Obstacle Course ...

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

"What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said."

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money.

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The full moon illuminated Jamie's and Claire's path as they made their way to the cottage into the cold night. It seemed they were the only two people in the world, walking in comfortable silence, lost in their own respective thoughts, and the only sounds to be heard were their footfalls and the dance of the trees. Inhaling deeply, Jamie pulled Claire into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the crown of her head, and in turn, her arm slid familiarly under his jacket to settle around his waist. For the first time in five days, every cell in his body was alive and buzzing, and it felt amazing to hold and have her close again.

Earlier, after the excitement and stramash outside Christie's apartment building had settled, they'd gone back in search of Quentin. It hadn't taken them long to spot him where he'd leaned on the wall outside the pub working his phone, most probably trying to call Claire. Though Quentin had looked like he could go for a few more round of drinks, to his relief, he hadn't put up much of an argument when Claire had firmly suggested it was time to call it a day. They'd escorted him back to his lodgings, making sure he had everything before heading for home.

It had been a surreal day, and Jamie knew it was far from over. He'd sensed Claire wanted to talk, and who could blame her? They had a lot of things to discuss, but his depraved mind had other ideas. His alcohol-fueled bravado from earlier had long waned to be replaced with an urgency that pulsed heat below his belly. But he swiftly reminded himself to be an attentive boyfriend first and clear the air between them.

After what he'd put himself and Claire through the last few days, he was done being a prisoner of the past and mistrusting the future. Here, at this moment with her, he was whole, and just having her beside him was healing invisible wounds all over his body. He needed her, but her needs came first even though her sweet scent and the sound of her soft sighs were piercing holes in his self-restraint. At nearly midnight, the air was icy cold, and yet, there was a fine layer of perspiration on his skin brought about by the anticipation of being finally alone with her.

When they eventually reached the cottage, Jamie had a hard time giving up her body's warmth to retrieve his keys, so he turned her to face him and locked her in an embrace. Savouring the feel of her, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to keep his distance; moreover, allow her to go to Inverness with Tom.

"Home sweet home," Claire murmured, breaking his thoughts. She made a move to pull away, but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her icy fingers instead. "I think I need a drink," she said, shivering, "It's been quite an eventful night, don't you think?"

Jamie shook himself and nodded. "Aye. It's been a riot." He finally let go of her, quickly fishing for his keys in his pocket and unlocking the door, letting her pass first. They were welcomed by two happy, hyper animals who circumvented him to get to Claire. Ah, wee traitors!

He shut the door and watched with amusement as Claire immediately fell on her knees, her arm going around Rollo's neck while her free hand scratched Adso's back ear. Jamie grinned when both nudged closer and let out chesty whimpering sounds as they were treated to Claire's lovefest.

His eyes landed on her unpacked bags on the floor. She must have left the cottage as soon as she'd arrived. "How'd ye know where to find me earlier? Ye never called," he remarked, divesting his jacket and dropping it onto the chair.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I didn't. When Tom dropped me here, I realised I forgot to hand in some documents for Mary. I kind of figured you might be out with uncle Lamb. So I thought before calling you I'd walk over to Tom's to drop the papers for Mary and well, ..." she shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "I was about to phone you, and who did I find outside Tom's apartment building? My boyfriend serenading Mary Hawkins, no less."

Almost completely sober by now, his head dropped to hide his embarrassment, his pained groan barely subdued in his throat at the reminder of the recent event. "Oh, Christ!"

She stood up, walked over to him and encircled her arms around his neck, forcing him to glance at her smiling face. "I thought you were adorable." She kissed his chin. "And I think Mary was chuffed to bits hearing your love declarations. She'll never leave the Highlands now, what with Tom as her new love interest and you serenading her in front of an audience. She probably thinks she's heaven's gift to Broch Mordha and vice versa."

Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ye should be righteously pissed at me for thinking ye were with Tom. And even if ye were in his apartment, I shouldnae have jumped to conclusions."

She contemplated his words. "We all get our jealous moments," she said quietly. "Well, I certainly do ...at least."

"Ye? Jealous? I only have eyes for ye, Sassenach. Ye have nothing to be jealous about." Then the image of Geneva's kiss came to mind, and his throat tightened. With everything that had happened today, he'd already forgotten about it ...until now. He knew only too well how the truth had its way of coming out, and he couldn't just dismiss it as an afterthought even though it didn't mean a thing. He needed to tell her before she finds out from someone else.

"Geneva," she whispered as if reading his mind. "I heard ..."

"Ye heard what?" She's already heard about the kiss? There was no stopping the weight of dread from settling in his belly. "Whatever stories ye heard about her and me, there's a perfect explanation for it, Sassenach. I can assure ye."

She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort nor heard the words he'd just said, her gaze too busy following the movements of her hands as they travelled down to his shoulders and over his chest. "While you were in Lallybroch, Willie came to check up on me once in a while to see how I was fairing. I thought it was rather sweet of him to do that." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he mentioned something about Geneva fancying you, and that didn't sit well because I know she's your therapist, and Jenny preferred her for you." Her eyes suddenly dimmed. "Oh, God! Why am I even telling you this? It's so primary school."

"Sassenach ..." He brushed his lips to her forehead. "It's not ..."

She visibly shook herself. "No, let me finish. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling the way I did. It was torturous knowing you were suffering, and I could do nought about it. I feared that night when you left, I may have made things worse by pushing you to talk about the past." True to her words, her expression was troubled as she chewed her bottom lip. "You see ...I want to be the one who can make things better for you, but I also recognise there are things about your condition that are beyond my understanding no matter how much I try to help or learn about it." She took a deep breath. "Geneva's your therapist, and she knows what she's doing. Sooo ...I have to put aside my petty jealousy and let Geneva do her work. But it doesn't mean I have to like her or the whole situation. So for the sake of ..."

"No, Sassenach. Stop right there." He dropped his mouth to prevent her from saying more, punctuating his words with a kiss. Their breaths collided, his fingers gripping her shoulders hard and digging into her skin. "Ye have every right not to like the situation. Because I dinnnae like it either." He searched her face, but her eyelids were at half-mast, and her gaze seemingly focused on his lips. He tipped her chin up. "I willnae be returning to therapy. So ye dinnae have to worry about her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wot? But why?" She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. If this is your way of making me stop seeing Tom, sorry mate, not going to happen. This is work. And I'm not stopping you from going to therapy just because it's Geneva either."

"Woman, will ye let me finish?" He took a few cleansing breaths. "I'll wager ye a pound to a penny that ye willnae allow me to attend the therapy when ye hear what she did."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did she do?"

"She kissed me."

She stiffened and took a step back. "Wot?" Her expression of softness she had just moments ago made way for disbelief.

He tried to rid the sudden tangle in his throat. "She stopped by today. She said something about wanting to talk about my progress. I told her I was busy. Then she threw herself at me and kissed me. It's nae biggie."

"Nae biggie?!" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth open and closed. And then opened again. "Where did she kiss you? Lips or cheek?"

Her question caught him like a surprise right hook. On any other occasion, he would have probably been amused with her display of jealousy, but the way she was looking at him now, was causing his heart to pound painfully against his ribs. "O-on the lips, but I ...ah ...immediately pushed her away. I swear to God, I did nothing to inspire it."

She rolled her head as if preparing for a fight, and when her eyes landed on the bottle of tequila he and her uncle had been drinking earlier, she made a beeline for it. "On the lips, huh? Did you like it?" She poured herself a healthy measure in one of the used glasses without offering him one and downed it in one go.

Christ! "No!"

"Any tongue involved?"

"Of course not!"

"You sure?" She slammed the glass down on the table, making him flinch.

What the bloody hell? The questions she was throwing at him was making him squirm on his feet, and for the first time, Jamie realised how similar Claire and Quentin were when trying to extract an answer. Both would undoubtedly make great interrogators if ever they'd decided on a career change. "What kind of question is that? The kiss happened so fast, taking me by surprise. I didnae have time to think. She might have tried to put her tongue down my throat, but I stopped her."

"And where did this happen?"

"What do ye mean? I already told ye she stopped by. I was here ...at home."

"I mean, did it happen inside or outside the cottage?"

Jesus! "Outside."

"Outside," she repeated, more to herself.

"Aye, outside. She wanted to come in, but I told her I had things to do and was expecting a visitor ...yer uncle, that is. Anyway, that aside, I didnae think it was a good idea to allow her to come inside, knowing that she's my therapist and fancied her chances with me."

"Hmmm ...so when she threw herself at you, you pushed her away, is that right?"

"Aye."

"Where did her hands go?"

Confusion seeped into his already muddled head. Is this some kind of trick question to catch me of any wrongdoing? "What do ye mean?"

"Geneva's hands. Did it go around your waist, neck or what?"

"Oh, um ...around my neck."

"And what about your hands?"

Huh? "What about them?"

"Where were your hands when she kissed you?"

"They were by my side. The only time I touched her was to push her away from me. Ask yer uncle. He saw the whole thing. I didnae even know he was there."

"And he didn't sock you?"

"Why would he?" he almost shouted. "I didnae do a thing. It was Geneva who initiated it!"

"Fine."

"Fine?" he gasped in confusion.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and took off her jacket. That's it? What the hell just happened? I gave her the truth, and that's supposed to be good, right? Or am I missing something? He followed her strained movement, and he helplessly watched her grabbed her laptop bag and rummaged through it, the silence pulsing around them bordering on awkwardness. This was definitely not how he'd envisioned their reunion, he thought miserably.

"Sassenach," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I can tell ye're upset about the kiss. Ye ken ye've no reason to be, aye?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "No," she agreed, relief washing over him. "I've no reason to." She pulled out sheets of paper from her bag, looked at them and haphazardly stuffed them back in again, seemingly going through the motion of keeping her hands busy.

"Then why are ye cranky all of a sudden?"

She let go of her bag and grabbed the bottle of tequila, sloshing over the rim of the glass as she poured another shot. "I'm not." She grimaced as she threw back the liquid.

"Ye are." When she poured another drink, he frowned at her. "Go easy on that tequila, Sassenach."

Her head spun halfway round in his direction, reminding him of that wee girl in the film, The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him.

He forced himself to remain patient. Claire was visibly upset about something, and now he wasn't sure anymore if it had to do with Geneva's kiss. "Sometimes, I associate alcohol with bad judgments and choices," he began calmly. "My own, especially. But ye've helped me make a lot of good ones in the past, and ...I just want to do the same for ye. Talk to me, Sassenach. What's really bothering ye?"

She huffed and balled her fingers into tight fists. "Fine! Do you want to know the truth? I want to start a fight."

"A fight?" He reined in his frustration of not being able to understand and took a step closer to her. "Why would ye wanna do that?"

A deep scarlet soared from her neck to her cheeks as she threw her hands in the air. "The last few days were trying, alright? It wasn't only you who was having a rough time with it. God, I've been worried sick about you. I've been trying to keep it together ever since you left, wondering if I'll ever get to see you before I return to London. And then ...and then," she hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "One bloody thing led to another. First, I got into a fight with your sister because of some stupid newspaper clipping she had in her possession. Then, not long after that, in the middle of what was supposed to be an important meeting with Tom, my boss dumps the responsibility of babysitting Mary onto my lap, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that with my uncle on his way. Then I got to Inverness, hoping to get at least some work done with Mary to finish her book so I could finally leave London for good and start a new life here with you. And you know what?"

Jamie stood immobile. He longed to soothe her, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched yet, so he waited even though he was slowly dying inside to hold her in his arms.

Her inhale became stuttered, and her eyes darkened with defeat. "I was grasping at straws to keep Mary to sit still long enough to extract a measly one thousand seven hundred words worth of work when I know she could do more in a day. But that's all I got for my efforts because she was too busy galavanting in Inverness with Tom. And speaking of Tom, I still haven't managed to make him sign the contract for his book and when my boss asked me why I couldn't even give him an answer and gave him some lame excuse. The only good thing that came out of Tom is, he convinced Mary to come here. If Tom hadn't been with me, I'd still be in Inverness with Mary. And now ...now I find out Geneva tried to kiss you while I was away. God, I want to scratch her eyes out. But I can't do that, can I? Because she isn't here. So I asked you those dumb questions to find a fault and start a fight because I wanted to vent after the last few days I've had. But even that, I can't do because you've done nothing wrong." She let out a groan of exasperation. "How sad is that?"

Suddenly, it all made sense to Jamie. Claire always put others' needs before hers with no thought for herself. He had to take better care of her. It had been easy to rest all his hopes and fears on her shoulders, and because of it, she was a massive part of his motivation to want more out of his future and be a better man for them. But if they were going to be together, his condition shouldn't always be her fight, and her burdens should be lighter with him by her side and not more. This lass had given him hope, and he's not going to rest until he gave her the same. Until she, too, knew her needs were just as important as everyone else's.

The boyfriend in him wanted to wipe the look of upset in her eyes. Confront the people that pushed her to act out in a way so unlike her usual self. Demand answers to find out what else was troubling her. He sensed, however, that questioning was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to be the protector this time, he opened his arms, relieved when she quietly walked into them. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her, resting his chin on her crown.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke haltingly. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to pick a fight. It's just that ...." Her fingers tugged at the edge of his jeans, and he shut his eyes. He could hear the slight slur in her words, making him realise she'd drank tequila on an empty stomach. "The last few days have been mad, and I -I ...oh, hell, never mind. I'm just acting pathetic."

Jamie frowned against her head. "Sassenach, look at me." He drew slightly away and held the sides of her face in her hands, the unshed tears in her eyes crushing him to the core of his being. "First of all, ye have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, Tom, Mary, yer boss, my sister, including myself, owe ye an apology. And ye're no' pathetic and dinnae ever say that about yersel', ever again. Ye do far too much for others, including me, and it's about time ye did something for ye. The rest of the world can wait, and other people getting their act together is no' yer responsibility."

She blew out a breath, bright amber eyes holding his steady.

"As for Geneva, ye have nothing to worry about her. There was never anything between us. I'll talk to my sister and let her know what her friend has done. If Jenny refuses to do anything about it, I will make a formal complaint about Geneva's behaviour to the clinic's head myself. And perhaps, propose a new or my old therapist be reinstated."

"Jamie, I can't be responsible ..."

"Ssshh, Sassenach. Ye're no' responsible for Geneva. She overstepped the boundaries, so it's only right she takes responsibility for her own actions." He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eyes. "I chose to be with ye as ye did with me, and I cannae have anyone disrespecting that, no' even Jenny. We're together, and we're supposed to be stronger as a unit. I need to step up my game and be there for ye as ye've been for me. For so long, I was so fixated on my own condition, I ceased seeing other people's difficulties." He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Then I met ye, my feisty wee, Sassenach ...for the second time as a grown-up ...and ye taught me all about selflessness and courage. I want ye to know ye're important ...more important than what I want or what Mary Hawkins wants or what yer boss wants. And the things that hurt ye, they're no less painful than what I go through. Things are gonnae change from now on, and it can't be just all about me. I'm so sorry for abandoning ye and for not being there when ye needed me most."

The worst of the troubled look in her expression faded and was replaced by a wobbly smile. "There's nothing to forgive. We were both trying our best to deal with circumstances that were beyond our control."

He smoothed her hair back, picking up the locks and twining his fingers through them. "No, ye were doing all the heavy lifting. Every moment ye spent with me was a trial of fortitude ye were too stubborn not to meet. It would have been easy for ye to give up on me, but ye didnae. Ye always thought I was enough despite my shortcomings. Ye taught me second chances, and because of that, I dinnae want to believe anymore I deserve no' to have ye." He took a deep breath. "I thought my realisation came too late when I thought ye were with Tom, and I was willing to go at any lengths to win ye back and make ye see what we have is worth fighting for. After what I did out there tonight, I ken I'll be teased for the rest of my life for singing like a fool at the village square, but it's all worth it because I get another chance with ye."

"Another chance with me? I never left you, Jamie. I may have been miffed and hurt, but I've always been yours."

He shook his head, more at the error of his ways. "Deep down, I ken that but the mere thought of Tom with ye, all reason and logic seem to fly out the window. In the future, I promise to keep those thoughts at bay. It's no' good for my sanity." He smiled at her. "Shall we kiss and make up?"

Laughing, tears spilt from her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The urgency that had been building up inside him went off like a gunshot. He drew her in closer. "Christ, I love you, Sassenach and always will." His mouth descended over hers, impressing his vow with a thorough tasting of her lips, savouring the earthy, semi-sweet taste of tequila on her tongue. His thumbs traced her cheekbones and jawline, and when she swayed closer, and the softness of her breasts flattened against his chest, he let out an animalistic groan.

His heart started to pound, every muscle south of his belt tightening. It was as though he'd been in a dry spell for five years instead of five days. His mouth went dry, his palms itched with the need to touch her naked skin, and his body was on fire as the pent-up desire from the past few days burst in a torrent of heat. He was ravenous for her taste and for her hand to encircle his hardness, and he indulged in her eager response that was opposite her usual shyness during lovemaking.

Restless fingers tangled into his hair, clasping his head in place as she kissed him back and met his demand with urgency. When her hips impatiently pressed against him, her scent invading his senses, his cock grew uncomfortably heavy.

He dragged his mouth from hers, twisting her hair in his fist. "Jesus, if ye dinnae take it down a notch, I'll burst in my pants like a schoolboy."

She blinked as if coming from a long sleep, her lips wet and puffy from his kisses and cheeks bright pink. She gave him a slow smile that promised unspoken pleasures, sending his heart up to his mouth. "Not my fault," she hummed, going up on her toes to teasingly brush her mouth over his. "You made me wait this long." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step back and stripped off her clothes, revealing her matching red bra and panty. "So enough talk, Jamie. I can't wait much more. I want you now," she whispered huskily.

Her words did it. His lust-filled brain only gave him a split second to process what she'd just said before the need to be inside her dismissed everything else. That urge he'd felt to make up for lost time raced out of control. He could only see Claire with her dazed eyes, parted lips and loads of naked skin.

He seized her hips, walking her backwards and crowding her against the dining table, pushing the chairs aside to make space. Her breath rose and fell in a choppy rhythm as his mouth dipped for a desperate kiss.

Her mouth moved in perfect unison with his, wee sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips frantically worked together. Lust pumping in his veins, he roughly settled her sweet bottom on the table and gingerly hooked his fingers into the lacey band of her knickers, shoving it down her legs. When she began tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he groaned into her mouth, knowing she needed him just as bad.

"I planned to make slow love to ye tonight. But now I cannae ...because I cannae wait to have ye." His hand slipped between their bodies, and he palmed her between her thighs. Ah, sweet Jesus! Sliding a finger deep into the wet heat of her entrance, he tested and teased, revelling the way her fingernails dug onto the skin of his shoulders in response, his head spinning at the feel of her moistness. "Christ, ye look so needy, ye're giving me nae choice but to take ye right here ...like a wild beast."

"Oh, shoosh, Jamie. Quit talking about it now. You want it just as bad." She began to undo his belt buckle, nipping at his neck as she yanked and shoved. When he was finally freed, he nearly fainted at the relief of no longer being restrained to his jeans. The relief was fleeting, though, when her smooth hands encircled his throbbing cock, her tight grip moving up and down, twisting at the base, preparing him when the only thing he needed was to be inside her. Ah, Christ, but it feels so good. Far too good ...

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he wouldn't last long. "Enough!" he gritted.

She gave him a look like he'd just taken her favourite toy. She unhooked her bra in retaliation and pushed her breasts up like an offering. His breath caught in his throat, stunned by the vision, her eyes, a translucent gold gleaming with arousal, beckoning him to take his fill.

He parted her legs and fisted his cock before rubbing its tip at her entrance. "I've missed ye so much. I might not last long, but I want this to be good for ye," he whispered hoarsely. "I may be a bit rough," He dipped his head, forcing her back to arch like a bow as he bestowed kisses on her breasts. "Are ye alright with that?"

She nodded, feeling her shudder with anticipation and need.

"Is that what ye want?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Take me however you want."

He whipped off his top and lowered his hand to her buttock, coasting his palm over the firm, rounded flesh and squeezing it tight. "Wrap yer legs around me."

Claire's legs wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck. Her thighs glid around his waist with such exquisite perfection that he had to bite the tender flesh on the side of her neck to stop from shouting. The friction of his cock sliding between her legs where he'd touched with his fingers was too much. Almost propelling him past his breaking point. Too impatient to take the time to savour, he gripped himself and pushed deep into her entrance.

Watching her teeth bite onto her bottom lip as if to stop a scream from escaping, he groaned out loud as he pushed inch by inch, his focus whittling down to Claire and the heat enveloping his cock. Everything ceased to exist. He pulled out slightly before thrusting again, their mutual moans resounding on the walls of the cottage.

He shifted closer, needing to feel and touch all of her as possible. Keeping their lips locked, he seized her hips and started to move to the ancient dance of mating. There were no words to express the rough, grinding pace of what he did to her. It only bloomed more intense when she began matching his moves, widening her thighs and rolling her hips like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh sweet Lord, ye feel too good," he muttered against her mouth, hips pounding furiously. "How did I stay away from this?"

She gripped the back of his neck. "I missed this too," she gasped. "Please don't stop."

"I'm not hurting ye, am I? Tell me if I'm too rough."

"No ...no, don't be gentle. I need you to take me hard."

A tide surged inside him, mounting and building like a storm. Jamie roughly raised her hips to reposition her, dragging her arse to the edge of the table, her sweet moans telling him she'd like that. Unable to think past how she wanted it harder, there was no easing down now. He could only yank her leg higher and demand she keep up, ramming into her rough and fast. Her sighs and breath came out like hot rushes of air, thighs squeezing around him and starting to tremble. When her internal walls clenched around his cock, it warned him of her imminent climax, making his balls drew up so tight they ached. He dragged her flush to his body and buried his face in her neck, grunting with every deep thrust and muttering her name while his own release clamoured in his belly.

"Jamie!" she screamed, convulsing against him. He immediately silenced her cries with a deep kiss, but she flung her head back and squirmed, tightening up where their bodies joined, pulsing and throbbing. "Oh my God."

He couldn't wait any longer. Hooking his arms under her legs, he pumped his hardness in jerky hauls, faster and faster until his visions blurred. The whimpering noises she made launched him higher, signalling his own peak, and he soared towards it, his climax made more intense from the knowledge that it was Claire who got him there. He thrust into her one final time and thrust deep, growling her name into her hair and squashing her to his chest as he'd borne the full force of what they'd done.

"Oh, Christ, Sassenach."

Her hands ran up and down his back as she continued to take huge gulps of air. He knew he was crushing her, but he wasn't ready to let go. He wanted to remain buried inside her, holding her like this. With her heels digging into his arse and her arms around his neck. They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

He was about to say "none of her business" when Claire came up behind him, dressed back in her jeans and top. "Mrs Fitz, how are you? Is everything alright?"

Jamie stepped back and observed how Mrs Fitz's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. He figured instantly, his neighbour must have seen that kiss from Geneva earlier and that she'd probably thought the worse of him after hearing Claire's passionate screams. Right there and then, he decided, this time, he definitely needed to soundproof his home from eavesdropping neighbours.

"Ach, I saw light in yer windows," Mrs Fitz beamed, ignoring Jamie's glare. "Ye see, I've made too many pies and thought ye might like one. I remember ye enjoying this when ye stayed with yer friend over at my place this past Christmas."

"Oh, how lovely," Claire gushed, taking the plate from Mrs Fitz. "Thank you so much. Just what Jamie and I need right now ..." She blushed profusely, contemplating her words. "...after a long day."

Mrs Fitz clapped her hands. "I thought that!"

Seeing how thrilled Claire was looking at the desert, Jamie tamped down the urge to say something sarcastic and just scowled at her.

Mrs Fitz must have read his thoughts as this time it was her turn to crimson, a probable sign of her guilt for being nosey. Suddenly at a loss for words, she rubbed her palms at her sides. "Weel, ye both enjoy it. I must get going as it's rather late. Good night, both of ye." With that, she whirled around and disappeared into the night.

He shut the door and sighed, and followed Claire to the kitchen.

"Lovely lady," Claire remarked, sniffing the pie before placing it on the counter.

He turned her around and kissed her slowly, groaning when she opened her mouth for him without hesitation. "Ye're lovelier," he said against her lips. "But I'm not done with ye yet."

She grinned. "Pie first?"

Realising he'd never be able to compete with Mrs Fitz's homemade pie, he laughed out loud. "Absolutely ...why not?"

Dear Readers,

Well, here you go, their reunion! I hope you've enjoyed this lust-filled chapter. I must admit, though, when I was editing the sex part, I deliberately drank Bloody Mary to lose a bit of inhibition and make the scene a bit grittier. I hope it worked, but if it's too dirty for you, I say tough! 😆 Just kidding!

Anyway, thank you for commenting and showing your appreciation for my writing and your well wishes. I don't always reply back but be assured, your feedback is very much appreciated and anticipated.

And before I forget, it's not long now before this arc finishes. There will be an arc three, and I will let you know more on my next update.

Signing off now and wishing you a fabulous weekend. Stay safe and always take care! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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deathishauntedbyhumans · 3 years

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Merry Christmas to @homosexuaalfelix !! I was your Secret Santa in the Portal exchange! I hope you enjoy your holiday, and your fic :)

Read on AO3

The sun is beginning to set by the time that Rick returns to their warehouse.

He’s been out for hours, gathering supplies, picking at some of the abandoned houses in the area that they haven’t had a chance to catalogue properly yet. That’s more Craig’s job, but Rick doesn’t mind stealing things for their base until Craig gets the urge to finish catagorising everything around them, even if Craig always gives him a disapproving look for it.

(“I want to preserve them as much as we can,” he always says. Rick isn’t sure why he bothers, but the only time he ever voiced that particular thought aloud, Craig refused to speak with him for a full day. That was… That was a lonely twenty-four hours.)

He’s got a sack on his back filled with supplies (and a few… other things) as he pushes open the big metal doors and slips into their warehouse. The doors close again with a loud clang.

“Rick?!”

Craig’s voice is as startled as it always is when Rick gets back from a supply run. They’ve tried to figure out a way to soften the noise of the door, or to find some way to alert him to Rick’s presence beforehand, but so far, they’ve come up with nothing.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. It’s just me,” Rick calls in response, just as Craig’s head pokes out from behind the cabinets of their kitchen space.

A bright smile that’s stuck someplace between fond and bemused takes over Craig’s features when he lays his eyes on Rick. “What are you wearing?”

Rick tries not to laugh, but his tone betrays his mirth. “What? You don’t like it?” He strikes a silly pose, sack swinging and bouncing off of the back of his legs and his ass. “I thought I looked pretty sexy.”

Craig stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, snorting and covering his mouth with one hand as he seems to try his best not to betray just how funny he’s finding Rick to be.

If he’s being honest, though, that’s exactly the reaction Rick was looking for when he donned this sad excuse of a Santa costume.

He’s been looking for a proper costume for months, to try and surprise Craig with it for a laugh. God knows that they can use any laughter they can get right now. But actually finding one? Much more challenging than Rick had anticipated.

So he’d improvised a bit! He is —was, he supposes drearily— a scientist. Putting together a costume reminiscent of the jolly old man shouldn’t have proven a challenge. And it hadn’t… mostly.

“Are those… cotton balls?” Craig asks, swiping at his nose as his laughter finally dies away and pointing at Rick’s makeshift beard with his other hand.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,,” Rick says with a wink.

“Santa’s a magician now?”

Rick grins. “Sure. Why not?” He adjusts the vest —mostly red, with black buttons— that he’s wearing with his free hand, since it’s about a size and a half too small for him. “What’re you up to?”

“Cooking,” Craig replies primly. He’s still raking his eyes over Rick’s form. “This is… really something else.”

Finally, Rick allows himself to laugh, and he walks over to Craig, placing the sack carefully on the ground as he goes.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he says in a low voice, privately, like he’s telling Craig a secret in the middle of a crowded room. He kisses him slowly, savouring the intimacy, the closeness.

He’s so glad that he’s had Craig throughout this entire ordeal. Sure, they hadn’t always seen eye to eye in the workplace, but when the infected had first swarmed Aperture and they’d been two of the only people to come out alive, well… Shit like that kinda puts a perspective on petty workplace squabbles.

Even back at Aperture, they’d made a good team. They had argued like cats and dogs, mind, but when they weren’t arguing, they’d had a good many successful projects together. And then, just like that, it had been just the two of them. They had both decided very quickly that arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere. And once they’d reached an understanding…

Turns out, he and Craig get along like a house on fire. Craig tempered him, made Rick a little bit more open to hearing the other side of an issue, especially when that issue was logic versus emotion. And Rick was good for Craig, too. Acting without thought for the most logical process has saved their lives more than once, and each time, that’s been Rick pulling them out of a dangerous situation without logically taking stock of every single exit. They’ve become two halves of a whole out here on their own together. Pre-infection, Rick might’a called it codependent, but labels like that don’t feel like they matter so much in a world where they desperately need each other in order to survive.

“So,” Rick says when Craig finally presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth and steps away from him. “What’s for dinner?”

Craig gives him a wry look, one that Rick pretends he doesn’t see as he busies himself with taking his sack over to their dining table. He sets it down and hears rather than sees Craig follow him and then divert back into their kitchen area across the way.

“Well, we’ve got beans.”

Rick hums. “Christmas beans,” he says. “Sounds delicious.”

There’s a snort from behind him, and Rick looks over his shoulder to see Craig stirring something in what Rick lovingly refers to as his “witch pot.” (Craig had informed him that “cauldron” was a racially insensitive term, and Rick hadn’t been able to tell if he’d been joking or not, so “witch pot” it was.)

“Fact,” Craig says lightly. “Before people ate meat and poultry for Christmas dinner, their main source of protein came from baked beans.”

“Oh yeah?”

Craig shrugs half-heartedly and Rick laughs, shaking his head. “Well, alright then. Guess we got ourselves an old-school Christmas dinner, then.” He turns back to the sack and unlaces the top, reaching inside. There’s some food that he places on the table first, to be put into its proper place by Craig later. The man has a system for their supplies that Rick doesn’t dare mess with.

With a glance towards Craig to make sure that he’s still occupied by his beans, Rick tugs a tiny box wrapped in brown paper out of the sack, followed by a large rolled-up piece of paper in the shape of a tube. He places them both on the table in front of the food, so that they’ll be the first thing Craig sees when he looks over again.

He’s all the way across the warehouse, putting the sack away and un-cotton-balling himself, when Craig’s gasp of surprise reaches his ears. He grins to himself.

“Everything okay?” Rick calls.

“Rick!” The tone begs no argument, though Craig doesn’t sound upset. He just sounds shocked.

Rick strolls back over to the kitchen, now dressed only in the red shirt and black pants of his Santa outfit, to see Craig standing stock-still near the stove, gaze locked on the table.

“What…?”

“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he repeats. He hooks an arm around Craig’s middle and tugs him in close from behind. “What kinda Santa Claus would I be if I didn’t bring some presents home?”

“You are ridiculous,” Craig states, but he sounds like he’s about to cry, so Rick is willing to take that with a grain of salt.

Rick kisses the top of his head tenderly. “I just thought we could use somethin’ nice,” he says softly into Craig’s hair. The sticky remnants of the tape he’d used catch gently on the dark strands. “Thought you could use somethin’ nice.”

Craig wiggles in his arms, so Rick loosens his grip. All Craig does is turn around, though, so that they’re facing each other. Rick leans down and presses his forehead to Craig’s, and Craig tilts his chin up so that their lips are just touching.

“You’re ridiculous,” he whispers. His breath is hot against Rick’s mouth. Rick brings a hand up to cup his cheek. “I love you. Thank you, Rick.”

When a tear falls against his thumb, Rick wipes away the salty track it leaves on Craig’s face. “I love you, gorgeous.” He kisses him properly, softly, and then kisses the bridge of his nose, then his forehead. “Now c’mon. It’s Christmas! You’re not supposed to cry on Christmas.”

“Is that a rule?” Craig asks, voice just watery enough to soften his usual dry tone.

“It is now.” Rick ruffles his hair affectionately, sliding one hand up from his cheek just to mess with him. Craig bats him away, but he’s smiling a soft, private smile, so Rick is willing to count it as a win. “You gonna open your presents?”

Craig seems almost… cautious, as he separates from Rick’s embrace. No, maybe not cautious, but… nervous, like he’s expecting the other shoe to drop.

Rick can understand it. They’ve been living day by day, hour by hour, for what feels like decades. It’s only been eight months since the infected had begun to swarm, but it feels like ten lifetimes have gone by since the moment the first one came bursting through the door of the lab that he, Craig, and Wheatley had been working in. It only makes sense that this one good thing would be met with such trepidation. Craig is only logical, and logic probably dictates that if bad things keep happening, then anything good will eventually be tainted.

But that’s not what tonight is about, so Rick gives him a gentle push towards the table. “Go on,” he says, in the most encouraging tone he can muster.

Craig takes a deep breath and swipes at his face. “Okay. I’m— I’ll just—“

Rick places one hand on the small of his back and lightly steers him towards the gifts on the table. Craig lets himself be guided out of the kitchen, though he does lurch to a dead halt in front of the table.

“What do I—?”

“You should open that one, first,” Rick interrupts, though not unkindly. He moves around Craig and points to the rolled-up poster. There isn’t much in the way of actual wrapping done on it; Rick hadn’t been able to figure out a way to wrap it that didn’t involve crumpling it more than it already was, so all he’d really done was roll it up and taped the top and bottom closed.

Craig nods and picks up the paper gingerly. With careful, methodical movements, he plucks the tape from the top, and then the bottom. Rick watches his face closely as he begins to unroll the poster.

A surprised laugh bubbles its way out of Craig’s mouth. “Oh!” he exclaims as the poster is fully revealed.

Rick grins a wide grin. “Saw it and thought of you,” he tells him. He looks down at the poster, too, taking it in again. It’s simple, really, a basic periodic table of elements poster that Rick had found in what had appeared to be a child’s bedroom a few miles south of the warehouse. But the colour palette had been the thing that had caught his eye. It’s all done in various shades of purples and pinks, and Rick has known for years just how much Craig likes those particular colours.

Craig rolls it back up reverently. “Thank you, Rick.” He places the poster back on the table and takes one of Rick’s hands, squeezing gently. “That was very thoughtful.”

Rick squeezes his hand back, and then manoeuvres Craig’s hand so that it’s facing the ceiling, palm-up. He places the other gift in Craig’s hand, the small wrapped box that he’s ridiculously excited about.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, his gaze soft as he meets Craig’s eyes. “You still got one more.”

Craig nods. He seems emboldened, now, less hesitant and more encouraged now that the rug doesn’t seem like it’s going to get pulled out from underneath him.

Rick is doing his best to keep from vibrating in anticipation as Craig gently pulls the tape from the makeshift wrapping paper —it’s part of an old brown paper bag from a now-long-defunct grocery store, but nobody needs to know that other than Rick— and gently begins the task of unwrapping the paper from the box.

A strange expression crosses Craig’s face as the little velvet box emerges from the paper. It’s not a bad face that he’s making, necessarily, but if Rick had to guess, he’d say that Craig has already probably cottoned onto his plan.

That’s okay. As long as he doesn’t run for the hills, they’re golden.

“What…?” Craig opens the box slowly. “Rick, you didn’t—“

Rick takes Craig’s free hand in both of his own hands, and Craig automatically looks up at him with shock painted over his features.

“I love you,” Rick says firmly. “I know shit’s hit the fan a thousand times over since… well, you know. But you’ve been a constant in my life for years, Craig, even if we bickered like hell for a lot of that time.” That prompts a laugh from Craig, although it’s about as watery as he’d sounded when he’d first caught sight of the gifts. “I don’t know where I’d be without you by my side. I know the world is different now, and a lot of old ways are gone in the ways we knew them, but—“ Rick kneels down, one knee dropping down onto the cold concrete of the warehouse beneath him, and Craig takes in a sharp breath. “I can’t imagine existing in a world where I don’t have you. I want to call you my husband, even if it’s just between us, for the rest of our lives.” He smiles wryly. “However short or long that may be.” He brings Craig’s hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles. “Will you wear my ring, gorgeous?”

There are tears rolling down Craig’s cheeks again, freely falling down onto the floor around them. He opens his mouth and a noise not remarkably unlike a sob comes out. His cheeks flush a darker red than they already are, and he clears his throat.

“Of course,” he whispers. He pulls Rick up, hauls him up by the hand that Rick is still holding and throws himself at Rick once he’s got both feet firmly on the ground.

Rick laughs and catches him, trying valiantly to pretend like there’s not a lump caught in his own throat. “Of course?”

“Of course,” Craig says vehemently, and then surges forward to kiss him like their lives depend on it.

When they finally part, Rick knows he’s got his own tears on his cheeks, and he hastily wipes at his eyes, as if Craig won’t notice he’s crying if he can get rid of the evidence quickly enough.

Craig doesn’t say anything, but he kisses Rick’s cheek against the track of a tear, so Rick knows he’s been caught.

“I believe you’re supposed to—“ Craig begins, offering the open box to Rick. Rick grins, a little shakily.

“I reckon you’re right,” he replies. With hands that are trembling just enough to be noticable, Rick takes the ring from the box. When Craig offers his hand, Rick gently slides the ring onto his ring finger.

Together, they stare at the new band adorning his hand. It’s a simple design, not too gaudy, not too showy. It’s nothing that’s going to get in the way of the things they have to do to survive. There are four small stones set into a silver band: two green, two pink. Rick’s no geologist, but he’s pretty sure the green is emerald. He’s not too sure what the pink is, but the colours and the simplicity of the design were enough to catch his eye when he’d started looking for rings.

“Beautiful,” Craig whispers. Rick absolutely agrees.

“I’m glad you like it,” Rick murmurs. He takes Craig’s hand again, this time sandwiching his newly-ringed hand in between his own. “Merry Christmas, Craig.”

Craig smiles warmly back at him. “Merry Christmas, Rick.”

#portal ss #portal secret santa #secret santa #portal #portal 2 #homosexuaalfelix #my writing #wade talks #apocalypse au #factventure #adventure core #fact core

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twdeadfanfic · 5 years

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I ain’t sick Pt.1

Daryl x Reader

Chapter 1/4

Summary: Daryl has gotten sick with fever, but he won’t admit it and slow down until he just can’t keep going, passing out and ending up bedridden, haunted by nightmares and trapped in deliriums about his past abuse while the reader tries to take care of him.(Or: Me indulging in how much I want to take care of Daryl, comfort him, and protect him from everything.) Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff...just my kind of things. Prison era.

Inspired by a request. It’ll be updated twice a week, next chapter coming on thursday.

If you want to read more Daryl x Reader series, mini-series, one-shots and drabbles, check my masterlist in the description of this blog.

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“This’s like the third time you sneeze in less than five minutes.”

Daryl ignored your remark, rolling his eyes as he kept skinning squirrels. You were helping him, not as skillful as him but definitely better than the first times you had tried back when he began to teach you. Another five minutes and Daryl cleared his throat and sneezed again. You arched an eyebrow at him and Daryl glared at you all grumpy.

“I told you already, I think you might be coming up with something,” you insisted. “You have been like this since we went to that nursery to find stuff for Judith two days ago. You might be getting sick.”

It hadn’t been a difficult run, the place had been empty of walkers, though it had been hard to walk through the place, seeing all the blood and abandoned stuff, no matter you needed it, trying not to wonder what had happened with the kids who had been there…

Daryl had seemed to notice your face and train on thoughts, and once he was sure there weren’t walkers in, he had sent you out to keep watch and make sure nor people neither walkers were approaching while he went through the place, collecting everything that you needed for Judith.

Now you were wondering if there might not have been some kind of bug or virus living in the place too, because Daryl had begun coughing and sneezing yesterday, and today you could see him getting worse. You thought he might be coming up with a cold or flu, or anything like that…but of course, he wasn’t going to admit it even if it was true.

“I don’t get sick,” Daryl grumbled, sounding pretty much like a sick, stubborn kid who doesn’t want to stop playing.

“Everyone gets sick sometimes. You should go talk to Hershel.”

“Told you I’m fine!” He snapped and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but deciding to let it go. For now.

“Stubborn…” You muttered.

You knew how stubborn Daryl could be, you probably knew it better than anyone, after been together as a couple for some months now. You both didn’t start to get really close until you lost the Greene’s farm. It first started with late-night talks, slowly getting to know more about each other. Then the nights grew colder and colder, and as you slept by each other, each night you slept closer until somehow it turned into sleeping curling up together. You both had the excuse of fighting against the cold, but at some point there was no point in denying your feelings, your silly smile when you looked at him, the butterflies in your belly, the way you felt with his arms around you, how protective of him you were, rivaling with how protective he was of you too… and so there you were now.

That evening, as you all dined together squirrel stew, you knew by the way in which Daryl was breathing that he was starting to get a stuffed nose. You didn’t say anything about it, not after how he had reacted earlier, but Carol did, which prompted Hershel into asking too and into offering advice. Daryl snapped at them and got up, rushing out of the room, and you sighed as you watched him go. He was behaving like such a stubborn child about this.

After you finished your dinner and helped to wash and sort everything, you went looking for Daryl. He wasn’t in your cell and you found him outside, rattling the fence that separated your yard from another and putting down the walkers that got close, attracted by the sound. By now you had cleared almost the while prison, but there were still some parts with walkers trapped in them.

“I’m going to bed, are you coming?”

Daryl didn’t even look at you as he answered, “You want me to go sleep with you? Ain’t you saying I’m sick? You want me to spread it to you?”

You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic tone, “Clean that blood off you when you go to bed.”

You were awake but lying on the bed when Daryl finally came, a couple of candles illuminating the room.

“What you doing up there?”

“What you said, not getting infected by sleeping next to you…” You knew you were being petty, but you couldn’t help it after how childish and rude Daryl was being, and so you were lying on the top bunk of the cell instead of on the one that you both shared.

Daryl didn’t say anything, just looked at you, shook his head, and got into the other bunk, though he didn’t blow the candles. “You really gonna sleep up there? He asked when a few minutes passed. You hummed a yes, trying to be as stubborn as him, but after a while of lying alone there, you got up, climbed down the bunk and went to lie next to Daryl. “You’re silly,” he murmured as he threw his arm over you.

“No. You’re silly.” You retorted, blowing the candles with a little more force than what was necessary. “You’re getting sick and we’re trying to help but you behave like a kid…or an asshole.”

“Ain’t sick…”

“Whatever.” You turned around so your back was to him, but you didn’t resist when Daryl’s arm tugged at you to hold you against his chest, and he nuzzled into your shoulder. “Your hair’s wet,” you noticed.

“You told me to wash the blood…”

“Yeah, not to take a full shower at night.” The weather wasn’t bad, but still, you worried that if Daryl was already getting sick, a not so warm shower at night and sleeping with his hair wet in a kind of cold cell might worsen it.

You didn’t say anything, though, not wanting him to get all grumpy again, you were too tired to fight, but you turned around so you could wrap your arms around him to hold him to you and try to keep him warm while you both slept. Daryl snuggled to you, wrapping his own arm around you and burying his face in the crook of your shoulder.

“You better don’t sneeze on me,” you teased in a whisper, making Daryl bite your shoulder softly before nestling into you again.

You woke up startled in the middle of the night when Daryl began to cough, making you shake since you both were still tangled together. “Hey, you okay?” You held him tighter when a new coughing fit made him shake.

“Fine,” he grumbled, coughing again.

“You’re not fine.” You reached out until you found the lantern, turning it on and taking the bottle of water that you had next to it, passing it to Daryl.

He sat up, taking a sip. “Thanks.” His voice was coarse and after another sip of water, he began coughing again.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick.”

“I ain’t.”

“Let Hershel look at you in the morning.”

“Told you I’m fine,” Daryl snapped, which made him cough again. He reached to leave the bottle on the bedside table and lied down again, his back to you as if finishing the conversation, and you let out a sigh at his stubbornness.

Daryl refused to go see Hershel the next day, no matter you tried to make him. Instead, he joined the group that was going to clear walkers from one of the cellblocks, with Rick, Carol, Maggie and Glenn, and also yourself. You didn’t let Daryl out of your sight since you noticed he wasn’t feeling good. You could see he had trouble breathing, and from time to time he shook with coughing fits. That didn’t stop him from putting down every walker that he encountered, but still you were close to him so you could help him just in case, putting down walker after walker yourself, until all of you managed to clear the whole cell block. One less to go, pretty soon the whole prison would be free of walkers.

Hours passed and Daryl still refused to acknowledge he was getting sick, even though you could see him getting worse. He didn’t sneeze anymore, but you could hear it was hard for him to breathe, and he was coughing more and more. You didn’t tell him anything, knowing how he’d react, but you were planning on telling Hershel to check him anyway, even if you had to hold Daryl down.

You were sat down in the hall, watching over Daryl at the same time that you studied a map for the next run, focusing on the roads and places that Glenn had marked as the most promising. Rick was pacing around the room as he rocked baby Judith while Daryl worked on his crossbow, cursing every time a coughing fit made him mess something or hurt a finger.

“You’re coughing even worse than this morning, you have to get checked by Hershel, we have an infirmary now after all,” Rick told him, rolling his at the icy glare that Daryl gave him before he grabbed his crossbow and got up, ignoring his words and leaving the hall, heading towards the cells.

You huffed a sigh, shaking your head, and Rick raised his eyebrows at you, smirking. “He can be such a stubborn child!” You complained, and Rick clapped your shoulder as you walked past him to go find Daryl. Rick was right, he was coughing more and you thought he was starting to look sick too.

You guessed he’d gone to your cell, and you found he’d even drawn the curtain closed and all. When you opened it, you found him sitting down against the headboard, fidgeting with a bolt. You went to sit at the end of the bed and he didn’t even look at you.

“Daryl. You’re sick and you’re getting worse.”

Daryl did look sick, there was no doubt, his face pale and clammy, dark circles under his eyes. You hadn’t seen him looking like that before, not even during winter when you all were almost starving and dehydrating. The closest thing was when he was hurt at Hershel’s farm, but he didn’t look ill like this. You reached out to place your hand on his forehead, checking if he had a temperature. You though he felt warmer than usual, but you weren’t sure. Daryl closed his eyes, leaning into your cooling touch before he caught himself and pulled away.

“I think you might have a fever, but Hershel will now better.”

“Told you I’m fine!” Daryl got up but you held his arm before he could walk away. “Leave me alone!”

“Hey. We’re just worried about you, don’t be like that…”

Daryl looked at you, chewing on his lower lip, almost as if he regretted he’d snapped again. “Ain’t no reason to worry, I’m fine,” he muttered before walking away.

That evening, though, you managed to convince him to let Hershel check him, even though he kept insisting he was fine and he complained the whole time. He wasn’t, Hershel confirmed he was starting to get a fever, and he didn’t like the way in which he was coughing. He told him to take some antibiotics but Daryl scoffed, ignoring the advice and telling you all once more to leave him alone before storming out of the infirmary and back to the cell.

Later, when you walked into your cell, Daryl was lying on the bed, half propped against the wall. He peeked at you briefly before looking down, gnawing on his thumbnail, as if guessing you were upset at his behavior and waiting for you to snap at him, but you didn’t. You knew it would take you nowhere. Instead, you sat down next him, taking his hand so he wouldn’t chew at his finger until the skin bled.

“Why you don’t want to take the antibiotics?” You asked softly, trying to finally have a reasonable talk without any of you snapping at each other. Daryl shrugged, looking down.

“Ain’t no reason to be wasting those.”

“It’s not wasting them. You’re sick, Daryl, you may get worse if you don’t take them.”

“I’m good enough. Ain’t nothing. We have to save those, it ain’t like they grow in trees,” he grumbled and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’re lucky I love you, ‘cause you can be pretty stubborn and frustrating some times.”

Daryl scoffed, but his lip curled into a tiny smile as he looked at you in that same way in which he did whenever you told him you loved him, as if he were always surprised to hear it but couldn’t help his smile at it, with his cheeks still always tainted pink. You kind of loved it. Knowing that you weren’t going to change his mind, you decided to let it go for now and shifted to lie down on the bed. If he wasn’t better in the morning, then you’d make him take the antibiotics even if you had to pour them into his mouth and plug his nose.

Daryl turned off the lantern and lied down too. He shifted until he was half lying over you and he snuggled to you, hiding his face on the crook of your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him to hold him, feeling the warmth radiating from him, and you began to stroke his hair.

“You’re not feeling good,” you whispered, you could feel it, but Daryl refused to stay anything, stubborn.

Next morning, you woke up to Daryl crawling over you so he could get out of bed. He murmured an apology and you reached out to grab his arm and stop it.

“Wait, where are you going?” You blinked your tired eyes awake. “How’re you feeling?” He had been coughing during that night too, waking both of you.

“I’m good…” he rasped.

You didn’t let go of him and you sat up so you could hold your palm against his forehead, frowning at how warm it felt. “I think you’re getting worse…you should try to sleep for a little bit longer, you hadn’t got much rest this night…” and while he slept, you’d make sure to inform Hershel and make Daryl swallow whatever pills the vet gave you.

“No. We’re leaving for the run soon.” Daryl yanked his arm out of your wraps but once again you grabbed his wrist, tugging at him to make him fall down onto the bed again.

“We? You’re sick! You’re not going, get in bed. You need to rest.”

“Told you I’m fine!” Daryl snapped, yanking his arm free once again and rushing away from you before you could say anything else.

“I’m gonna tie you to the bed!”

“Sounds kinky…” Came Glenn’s voice from a nearby cell, making you groan as you flopped down onto the bed in frustration.

Much to your relief, Daryl didn’t get to go to the run. Rick took a look at him and told him to stay at the prison and rest. No matter how angry Daryl got and how loud he argued about it, Rick didn’t change his mind, and Daryl stormed out of the room. You weren’t going to the run either, and so when the others left, you went looking for Daryl. You found him once again at the fence of one of the cellblocks that you all hadn’t cleared yet, sinking his knife into the heads of the walkers that came attracted to the noise.

“Don’t wanna hear it,” he snapped when he felt you approaching and he didn’t even turn to look at you. “Leave me alone.”

You wanted to snap too, to drag his ass to bed and force him to take the pills, but you knew it wasn’t the best approach. Daryl wasn’t feeling good and he was frustrated, and so you tried to understand it even though you were getting frustrated too. And so instead of saying anything, you just walked closer and wrapped your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on his back. Daryl seemed confused, stiffing before relaxing again. He shifted a bit, but then he let you snuggle to him, placing the hand that wasn’t holding the knife on top of one of yours.

“Everybody gets sick,” you whispered. “There’s nothing wrong in it.”

“I’m good,” he grumbled and you let out a sigh.

You looked at the walkers on the other side of the fence. There weren’t many left and you decided to let Daryl put them down, maybe it’d help him vent his frustration a bit, and then you’d try to talk sense into him again.

“Why don’t you finish here and then come to help me sort some things inside?” Daryl just shrugged and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, unwrapping your arms and letting him go. “Okay, then. Don’t take long or I’ll come and drag you with me by your ear,” you half teased and Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes before putting down another walker through the fence.

You waited for him inside but he wasn’t coming. You’d warned him, and so you went out looking for him. He wasn’t where you had left him, the place clear of walkers. You considered he might have gone to clear another cellblock by himself, but the idea was even too crazy for Daryl. You made your way to the guard tower where Carl was…it might be a bit strange, having a kid taking watch, but he’d proven to be as skillful as any of you or more.

“Hey, Carl!” You called for him until he looked down at you. “Have you seen Daryl?”

“He came earlier, told me to open the doors cos he was going outside hunting,” he yelled back. “Told him my dad had said he had to rest in here.”

“Bet he liked that…” you murmured. “Okay, thanks!”

You did another scoop around the prison, even checking through the fence of one of the uncleared areas, but Daryl wasn’t anywhere. The doors hadn’t been opened, but you wondered if he had sneaked out anyway. There was an opening in one of the back fences that you all had closed with some wire, but he might have gone out through there.

You rushed to the place, but if Daryl had left, he’d carefully placed the wire back in place. Still, you decided to check, and so you removed the wire, opened the fence and squeezed yourself to the other side, closing it again so no walker could get in. You wished you could track like Daryl, but you couldn’t. Still, you walked into the woods and looked around for any sign of him.

For a while, you didn’t find any trace of Daryl, and then your heart leaped to your mouth when you saw the body of a walker dead on the ground. Had Daryl done that? Were walkers following him? Was he in danger, out there and sick with a fever? You called his name quietly, afraid of bringing more walkers to you, but you couldn’t hear any answer.

All the worse scenarios came to your mind, from Daryl finding too many walkers for him and unable to hide from them as his coughs attracted them, to his fever getting worse and making him being reckless, or maybe making him get dizzy and disoriented, unable to find his way back home…

Trying to calm down so you could be efficient, you began walking through the direction you thought Daryl might have followed, praying he was safe.

..................................................................................................................

I hope you’ll like this new mini-series, if you have a moment please comment with your thoughts. As always, English is not my mother tonge, so I’m sorry if there are mistakes and typos.

If you want to be (un)tagged let me know!

@momc95 @jodiereedus22 @osweetdevilo @sapphire1727 @coffeebooksandfandom @crustyrose @checkintoreality @daddys-little-princess67 @sesshomaru-lover @crossbowking @coltcas @feartheendlesssummer @izumi37 @gruffle1 @cutiepiemimi13 @drina365 @kuolematkorjaavat @daeshaunex2 @twdeadlysins @stressed-lasagna @teenyforestfairy @yenne-yen-illustrations @mychemicalimagines @nikkipea @crazycatladyalustriel @miniprz @wolfkg @paybackbarnes @haleypearce @nikki082489 @dotslabyrinth @mtngirlforever @superflannel @blckbuttler @deanervs @linktheloveabledork @sourwolf-sterek32 @iminlokisarmysofi @traveleraroundsworld @deliciousassafrasssandwich @angelontheinside @friendly-black-cat @firehoopinmama @d0ntfitin @mblaqgi @lxdyred @a-dlv @elysijin @gabriels-pornstashe @marie-is-in-the-dark @lonewolf471 @hedakylo @wnygirl2012 @j-a-val @gabidarkage @dashesoflipstick @hopplessdreamer @of-storms-and-sadness @angelophany @million-dollar-milkshake @daryldixonandfrogs @easnuppa @art-flirt @justanothersarcasticfandomwriter @aisling-beatha @theunofficialduke @toxic-ink @fand0m-fiend @theonlyone-meeeee @nickangel13 @summerluciddreams @fanfictionsilove @lilo-1988

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon & reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd rp #twd imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead

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yeoobiii · 5 years

Text

A New Home | Neighbour AU | Chapter 2

Prompt: “Hey, I locked myself out. Can I stay at your place until my roommate comes home?”

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Fem!Reader, Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N’s life couldn’t have been more ordinary. She lived together in an apartment with her sister, while being a student at the nearby college. The small flat next to hers stood empty for a while now, until one day two young men moved in. What at the beginning seemed like a simple new encounter, tured out to turn her world upside down.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, maybe a little bit of angst

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: I’m in kind of a flow for this story at the moment. I’m already starting chapter 3! Please let me know with a quick feedback if you enjoy my writing. It means a lot and always motivates to write more. Enjoy chapter 2 :)

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Capter 2

What was happening? Was Harrison actually kissing you, right now, at this moment? In your drunken state you expected a lot, but for sure not this. As his lips first touched yours, you were shocked, your eyes wide open, but as he deepened the kiss, your eyes flattered shut eventually and you felt warmth erupt in your stomach.

What were you doing? Kissing a guy, you had about one proper conversation with? That doesn’t sound like Y/N at all. But you couldn’t give less of a fuck. This right here, felt realer to you than everything else you’ve done in the last few months. You weren’t overthinking anything, you were just taking in the moment and every feeling it set free in you.

“Fuck.” Harrison suddenly interrupted the kiss and with that your moment of pure bliss. As soon as he moved two inches away, you missed his lips on yours and you suddenly felt cold.

“Fuck.” he repeated himself, sitting up quickly, “I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

Now you just were confused. Why was he suddenly so stressed out? Did you do anything wrong? Did he actually regretted kissing you so much?

“It’s fine. It’s okay.” you tried to assure him. He wasn’t listening, though.

He held his head in his hands, whipping up and down with his feet. He made you nervous with his behaviour. Suddenly, with one hit, all your insecurities came crashing onto you and you got anxious.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” you said apologetically.

The both of you were still drunk. You could see it on your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“What? No, it’s not you…” he started, hesitated to continue, though, “I have a girlfriend.”

He didn’t dare to look you in the eyes while confessing the reason for his weird acting. Your hands started to slightly shake and your eyes got watery. You had to scream at you within yourself to not start crying, not in front of him. Suddenly, all the warmth is fading from your body and was replaced with coldness.

“I think you should leave.” was everything you were able to say, as you were staring at your hands, because you didn’t dare to look him in the eyes.

You could feel Harrison’s apologetic look on your skin. It burned and you couldn’t stand another second of it. Who was he to petty you know?

“Now.” you tried to command him, but your voice slightly cracked, making it sound more like a request.

Harrison got up without saying a word. It was crazy how he still managed to walk a straight line. He put his shoes on and made his way to the front door. As if planned, at that moment your sister opened the front door and announced excitedly:

“I brought puddinggg.”

She went quiet really fast, though. As she saw Harrison’s flushed face and slightly swollen lips, mixed with the impression he currently had on his face, her mood switched pretty fast. Then she took a look around in the apartment and saw the mess in the living room and you sitting on the couch, back faced to her, not moving in the slightest.

“What the fuck happened in here?” she asked puzzled. She expected to come home to a scene more like: Y/N lying on the couch once again, but this time watching Rick and Morty since she recently finished Modern Family, eating some kind of take out and laughing along to some stupid jokes that were made in the series. She wasn’t expecting THIS.

“I should leave.” Harrison mumbled and shortly after slid through the open-door gap. Your sister closed the door behind him.

Your sister put her bag down and carefully made her way over to you on the couch. You still haven’t moved since your sister stepped into the apartment. Luciana sat across from you; right where Harrison sat just a few minutes ago.

“Y/N, what happened.” she asked softly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” you stared down at the couch-cushion, “I think, I’ll go to bed early today. I’ll clean the mess tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N got up from the couch. Her voice was shaky and Lu could tell that you were about to cry. You didn’t care, though. You just wanted to be alone.

“You know I won’t. Good night, baby-boo. I love you.”, your sister wished you a goodnight, her voice still soft.

A quiet “mhm”, was everything Lu heard before you shut the door to your room. As soon as you sunk down on your bed, the tears were not to stop any more. You hugged your banked really tight and just straight out sobbed. And all this time you asked yourself why you were even crying. It didn’t make any sense. For how long did you know Harrison? A week? Two weeks? How many conversations did you have with him? Not even one that really counts. And still here you were, crying on your bed over what happened in the living room not even ten minutes ago.

What was that and why did it happen? It was the first time you stepped out of your comfort-zone in like forever and the fact that you really enjoyed yourself didn’t make this any easier for you. Why did he have to kiss you? Why did this asshole had to kiss YOU? Why exactly you? He didn’t know you. He had no idea what that would do to you. Why could you not be like your sister? Or friends of your sister? People that just hook up for the fun of it. Tonight, you almost felt like one of them, almost. Then reality came crushing down on you like a truck hitting a wall and with that everything went to shit.

After you cried your eyes out for ten minutes, you started to tell yourself that it was just a kiss. It wasn’t about you. He didn’t fancy you. You were just there. You didn’t know why you had to tell yourself all of this stuff, because the kiss didn’t really mean anything to you either. How could it? Harrison was a stranger to you. How could a kiss with a stranger mean anything?

These questions kept swirling around in your mind until you came to the conclusion, that it wasn’t the fact that Harrison kissed you. It was the fact that you had been kissed again. As silly as it may sound, but you forgot how good it felt to be this close to someone.

Then you started to wonder if Harrison only used you to get his head free of his struggles. And what if? How was that a problem to you? Why did it bug you so much? It was just a kiss, Y/N! For fucks sake. A really good kiss, though.

You knew why it was a problem to you; because you were you.

And like that, the thoughts kept circling inside your head for what felt like hours, when in real life, it only has been forty minutes. You stopped crying a while ago. Now you were just lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. You didn’t know when, but you eventually still fell asleep at some point, because the next morning you woke up, not remembering to ever fall asleep. Your eyes were heavy and sore from crying.

You took a look at the clock on your nightstand. It was 8:36 AM. You groaned and let your head smash back into your pillow. For a second you forgot about the events of last night. It didn’t last for long, though. As soon as the memory was hitting you, you had to swallow hard and were instantly wide awake. Only one thing came to your mind. You were convinced it would help and since you knew, you weren’t able to fall asleep again, you got out of bed. You put your yoga pants on, yet another sports-bar and a grey Nike tank-top.

You put your sneakers on since you didn’t have running shoes yet, but before you left, you dared a quick glimpse in the room of your sister to see if she was still sleeping. And there she was, mumbled into her sheets like a little baby. She only had to work every second Saturday so you figured that it was her day of. You went to the kitchen and grabbed a little piece of paper. On it you wrote: “Out for a run, I’ll get breakfast on my way back! :) love you.” And hung it up on the fridge where you knew, she’d definitely see it. Then you grabbed your headphones and your keys and went out of the door.

As the fresh, autumn morning air hit your skin, you shivered for a second, before you started to take in your surroundings. At that moment, you actually decided against music for this run. It was Saturday, a quarter before nine. London was still asleep and hungover from the night before. You started to make your way in the direction of the nearby park. After five minutes of jogging, you weren’t cold anymore and you started to enjoy yourself. You walked past an old couple on a bench. They were holding hands, one lady was petting their dog with her free hand and the other one was just sitting there, patiently waiting for the love of her life to put her focus back on her. It was a heart-warming picture. You were just running like that for 30 minutes straight, without thinking. You’ve never run this long before. It still wasn’t long, but it was long for you. It was almost insane how the fresh air was able to clear out your mind.

As promised, you got breakfast on your way back. You went to your favourite bakery and got fresh buns and croissants. You walked the whole way back to your apartment and for that part you still decided to listen to some music.

As you opened the apartment-door, your sister was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. You’d be lying if you’d say that you weren’t nervous coming home because the chance of running into Harrison in the Hallway was quite big. But thanks to you, you two didn’t cross paths that morning. Your sister smiled at you and jumped off the couch as soon as she saw the bags filled with buns in your hands. You excitedly took them to the kitchen.

As you were standing at the kitchen counter, taking the buns and croissants out of the bags, your sister hugged you from the behind.

“Are you okay?”, she whispered in your ear.

You caressed her arm.

“I’m fine.”, you said honestly. You weren’t lying. Right there, at that moment, you were all right.

Harrison couldn’t sleep all night, in spite of the alcohol running through his system. What did he do? Why did he do it? It wasn’t like he had feelings for Y/N. He was not supposed to have feelings for any other girl then his girlfriend. The next day he was supposed to meet her for lunch. What was he supposed to do? Tell her? Not tell her? His mind kept spinning like crazy. All these questions he didn’t have the answers to. One he was really ashamed of, after thinking it was: Is kissing even cheating? He knew it was. To her it was, to him it was. Was it going to help if he told her, that he barely knew the girl? It didn’t really help his thought process that he couldn’t get the feeling of the kiss out of his mind; how good it felt. The way she looked at him as they were lying there. He damned himself for thinking these kinds of thoughts. He should have gone home and should have taken some more shots, then he wouldn’t remember any of it now.

He also could slap himself in the face for ruining his relationships with his neighbours of two weeks. He could tell Y/N was not talking it well and he was really sorry about all of it. He knew he was acting like a dick the second he started to lean in. He could have guessed what kind of girl Y/N was and he still did what he did. Even though, she had nothing to do with any of it in the first place. He knew he had to make it up to her if he still wanted to be friends with her. Because he really wanted to get to know her better and become friends. The evening with her was really fun and he really enjoyed himself around her.

He didn’t tell Harry about it and he probably will not be doing it any time soon. Good for him was, that Harry wasn’t home yesterday night, so he couldn’t ask questions. It didn’t mean anything and Harry would just yell at him and call him a dickhead. What he actually deserved, though. He had to make up for it on his own. He just wasn’t sure how yet.

All morning, he was thinking about what he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to lie to his girlfriend, otherwise their relationship wasn’t really hitting it off lately anyway and this could really set her off. The chance that she would end anything then and there if he told her was big and he didn’t know if he wanted that. He was dating her for almost two years now. The first one and a half years went great and Harrison and his girlfriend were both really happy. They went like the first one and a half years of a relationship are supposed to go. But lately, they seemed to fight over every little thing really. The time has come where you not only see the good things about your partner. And let’s just say they didn’t really handle the conflicts well. It was then when Harrison started to wonder if all of this even had a future. And he was actually getting sick of all this fighting. He just wants things to go back to how they were.

As he got dressed to go out for lunch, he almost pissed his pants. Did he really want to risk his relationship of two years, just because of one meaningless kiss? He knew that he was the one who had it in his hands. He knew he was the one deciding. His girlfriend deserved the truth. But what if the truth made everything unnecessarily complicated?

He got his key, wallet and phone and went to the front door to leave the apartment. His hands were shaking. He shouted a goodbye at Harry, but then he realised he hasn’t seen the red-haired boy all morning. It seems like he still hasn’t come home.

Lunch with Natalie, Harrison’s girlfriend, actually went by really peaceful. He decided not to tell her, at least not yet. At lunch that day she was as cooperative as she had been for a long time. They talked about a lot of stuff they should have talked about a long time ago and Harrison figured, he would just ruin everything if he would confess to her right now. He didn’t already want to lose all the progress they just made. He knew he had to tell her eventually.

They didn’t hang out afterwards, though. Natalie still had to do some grocery shopping for the weekend, so Harrison went back to his apartment alone. At home, he tried to figure out a way to apologise to Y/N. He didn’t know her very well, so he had actually no idea what to do. And showing up at her door with a bouquet of roses seemed to send the wrong signals. At the end he decided writing Lu, her sister.

Harrison: Hey Lu, it’s Harrison. Hope you’re doing well :) I was actually wondering something about Y/N. Do you happen to know what her favourite food is?

He decided to leave the alcohol out of it this time, so he ended up not asking for her favourite wine. Because that’s the only thing he really knew about her, that she liked wine; and that she had a dog called Frankie.

Lu: Oh hi! I wasn’t expecting you straight asking for top-secret information about my sister, when I gave you my number. But to answer your question, she likes a lot of stuff. Chinese, Thai, Burger, Pizza, actually everything you can get as take out but most of all she loooves sushi! Why are you asking, though? You aren’t planning to take her out on a date, are you? ;)

Sushi, that’s an information he could work with.

Harrison: Thank you! :) I kinda have to make up for something.

“Y/N!” your sister suddenly shouted from the living room. You were currently in your room studying, as you got up and joined your sister on the couch.

“You won’t believe who just texted me!” she quacked excited.

“Wait, what? Who texted you?” her excitement rubbed off on you.

“Harrison!” she proclaimed, “I think he wants to go on a date with you!”

Your sister couldn’t stop giggling. As soon as you heard the name “Harrison”, you knew the excitement was just wasted energy. You almost felt bad for destroying her fantasy.

“What made you think that? What did he write?” you were still curious why he wrote, though.

“He asked me what your favourite food is.” she smirked.

“And what did you answer?”

To your surprise, you managed to stay pretty calm during this conversation. If your sister had told you that a guy like Harrison wanted to go on a date with you, you usually would be freaking out by now. The fact that Harrison kissed you the other day was shoved to the back of your head. All you could think about was, that he had a girlfriend. And you were completely fine with that. And anyway, what were you supposed to do? Be a bitch about it to the point where they break up so you could date a guy you barely knew?

The fact that he asked your sister, set something up in your stomach, though. And the smirk that was currently covering her features didn’t help at all.

“Sushi.”

Your expression fell. You didn’t know if you liked sushi, you’ve never had it before. Your sister loves to point out, that you basically live from take out, but she always only criticised you for never having sushi before. But you didn’t let it bother you too much. You knew there was not going to be a date.

“Harrison has a girlfriend, Lu.” her expression fell. It was funny to see how her face went form excited to “are you serious?” to “omg, you are serious”.

“Who told you that?” she asked, confused and frustrated, not wanting to believe you.

“He, himself told me that.” it was at this point where you decided that you were done with this conversation. You got up from the couch and started to walk into the direction of your bedroom.

“Wait, was that the reason you almost cried the other day?”, she shouted after you.

“Fuck off, Lu.” you retorted before closing the door to your room again.

Why did she have to point that out again? You knew it was dumb yourself. You didn’t need your sister reminding you. You knew that Lu didn’t mean it that way. She was just trying to understand. It was still bugging you, though. More because of yourself than because of your sister.

You had to talk to Harrison at one point. But for now, you were fine with avoiding him. You weren’t even mad at him. What for? You told him you were fine with it. The fact that he kissed you while having a girlfriend was not something you had to worry about. You were just upset because he had such an impact on your feelings that night. You felt like you totally embarrassed yourself in front of him with the way you reacted.

You were lying to yourself if you were saying that you weren’t a little bit curious why he asked for your favourite food. What was the deal with that boy? You told yourself not to think about it anymore, what of course didn’t work.

You didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day, so you decided to pick up your books again and read through all the summaries you already wrote.

You couldn’t help the thought of Harrison and that kiss swirling through your head from time to time, though…

#Harrison Osterfield #Harrison Osterfield x Reader #Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader #Harrison Osterfield fanfiction #Harrison #Harrison x Reader #Fanfiction #Neighbour AU #au #reader insert #fem!reader #Tom Holland #Tom Holland fanfiction #Tom Holland x Reader #a new home

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newmusicmonthly · 5 years

Text

2019

Hello,

Missed me?

No longer a monthly mailer – just another end of year round up.

On reflection, perhaps I’ve played it a bit safe this year, but I didn’t feel there was as much great music out there as in previous years.

Yes, I too use Google, so I have listened to all the end of year Best Of lists online, and so those artists not included just didn’t resonate with me this year.

I maintain ‘bad guy’ off Billie Eilish’s record sounds like a Super Mario bonus level (probably in a spooky dungeon)… which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. And I love Lana, but I just didn’t think the latest record was all that. And the same was true of Angel Olsen, Nick Cave, Kanye, Hot Chip… but don’t get me started on Bon Iver: avant-garde “Kum ba yah” at best (sorry Rob).

But then that’s part of the joy of music, variety and differing opinions… so please share yours! What have I overlooked? What should be revisited? Where in the depths of streaming services is that killer track from 2019?

For now, here is my list of songs, somewhat crowbarred into the monthly format (as mentioned, this email was once called New Music Monthly Mailer with five tracks a month, and surely we need some level of constancy and accountability this year).

Enjoy, or not – but please do share your own choice picks.

Merry Christmas.

R x

NEW MUSIC 2019

JANUARY

Sharon Van Etten - Seventeen Just go and watch her performance from Glastonbury: https://youtu.be/BM6jn891seU Seriously, from 2:45, just fucking brilliant.

J.S. Ondara - Saying Goodbye Lovely acoustic number and a great voice that evokes Tracy Chapman.

Basekou Kouyate, Ngoni ba - Kanto kelena (feat. Habib Koite) Malian ngoni master returns to acoustic roots.

Delicate Steve - Selfie of a Man Synthy silly catchy instrumental pop-rock.

Steve Gunn - Vagabond Guitar troubadour telling stories of solitude with unostentatious guitar tones.

FEBRUARY

Mara Balls - Ikävä ikävää Driving Finnish Doom-lite.

Julie Jacklin - Body A narrative masterclass, sombre and brooding, but also simmering and pulsating.

Strand of Oaks - Weird Ways Big widescreen rock, which builds into a gorgeous swirl of sound, with Timothy on fine yet reflective form, backed by the band of My Morning Jacket.

Crows - Hang Me High Long awaited debut from Idles approved band, loud fuzz Mary Chain / Dom Keller vibes.

Kel Assouf - Fransa Desert blues, with all the best Tuareg styling, but added beefy production.

MARCH

Nick Waterhouse - Man Leaves Town Mr Waterhouse and band well in the pocket.

Dave - Streatham Heavy beats and piano lines soundtrack story of growing up in SW16.

Karen O, Danger Mouse - Turn The Light Danger Mouse brings the gentle disco grooves underneath Karen’s swooning vocals.

Small Feet - The Lake Down tempo reverb and echoes float throughout this woozy directionless jam.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Tombes Oubliées BJM do what BJM do best... in French.

APRIL

The Comet Is Coming - Summon The Fire How can you not move to this?!

W.H. Lung - Empty Room Great new band (c.f. mailer 2017!), and as I already included ‘Inspiration!’ this is my second favourite cut from a top album.

Josefin Öhrn + The Liberation - Feel The Sun Another great artist (championed back in 2016 I think you’ll find), spectral psych grooves.

Weyes Blood - Mirror Forever Great opening line, there’s a coldness but also strangely comforting.

Foxygen - News Now a lot people had fallen off the Foxygen wagon recently, including me, but this is catchy melody filled vibes, with a completely unexpected stonking T-Rex style groove that kicks in around the 3:30 minute mark

MAY

Lizzo – Juice Speaking of good vibes… I mean, again, just go watch the Glastonbury set: https://youtu.be/R9CTs1NsZRI.

Tyler, The Creator - EARFQUAKE Production values: A*, chances of not leaving… C-

The 100 Knights Orchestra - Soul Fugue Celebrating Daptone Records 100th RPM single, this special features every horn player the label has ever worked with, and it is glorious.

Death and Vanilla - A Flaw In The Iris Devendra Banhart vibes to begin, fazing in Mazzy Star style reverb and guitars.

Desert Sands - Are You There The best psychedelic space rock released… ever!

JUNE

Rose City Band - Fog of Love Warm tones and laid back ambles, which has producer Ripley Johnson’s stamp all over it.

Madonnatron - Goodnight Little Empire Disco ditty extraordinaire.

The Black Keys - Lo/Hi Have you heard of ZZ Top? You have?

The Amazons - Doubt It Future rock heroes get dark.

Fat White Family, Parrot and Cocker Too - Feet - Parrot and Cocker Too Remix Gone for the remix version of this great track: what isn’t improved by added shakers and throbbing techno?

JULY

Michael Kiwanuka, Tom Misch - Money (with Tom Misch) The first of two Kiwanuka tracks in this list, but this was a standalone single, and has all the bubbly bass groove it was impossible not to include.

Drake, Rick Ross - Money In The Grave (Drake ft. Rock Ross) Speaking of money… bounce!

DOPE LEMON - Salt & Pepper Weird keys give way to J.J. Cale style guitar noodles, whilst Angus heaps on the druggy references adding to the meandering stoned atmosphere.

The Quiet Temple, Moon Duo - The Last Opium Den On Earth (Moon Duo Remix) Speaking of druggy… 12 minutes of acid psych jazz in the last opium den on earth.

Nev Cottee - Hello Stranger Cinematic and pastoral, but also searing

AUGUST

Palace - Running Wild Top class indie pop nugget with great simple guitar solo to end.

Kandodo 3 - Everything Green's Gone This definitely isn’t for everyone: think Nine Inch Nails soundtracks at their most impenetrable, if you can make it two thirds of the way through this 13 minute wig out, there are some great slide guitars.

Clairo – Bags Breakout bedroom pop with one of the hookiest melodies all year.

Mini Mansions - Works Every Time Behind the beat smooth grooves.

Death Hawks - Whisper Squelchy over produced 80s style pop bananas,

SEPTEMBER

Native Harrow - Can't Go On Like This Inevitable Laurel Canyon / Joni Mitchell comparisons on this retro analogue sound ballad.

Ty Segall - The Arms Ty does a rare acoustic number, and even throws in a rather tasteful mandolin line.

Pixx - Funsize Synth bleeps and beats disguise a Radiohead-esque creeping guitar line.

Sleater-Kinney - The Future Is Here Love the motorik dirge vibes here, underpin lovely vocal lines and melodies which remind us: the future is here, and we can’t go back.

Marika Hackman - i'm not where you are Great pop hooks and guitar lines.

OCTOBER

Dylan LeBlanc - Renegade I’m a big fan of LeBlanc and his retro stylings, and this track is super lilting 80s driving rock.

TOOL - Pneuma I struggled to get TOOL for a while, but this record and this track in particular is fucking phenomenal.

Lightning Dust - Devoted To Amber Webber and Joshua Wells’ solo project (previously of Black Mountain), conjure spectral dreamscapes.

Sturgill Simpson - Remember To Breathe Sturgill goes electronic rawk – and Tomoyasu Hotei wants his production back.

Michael Kiwanuka - Hero Here he is again, with the standout track from a truly brilliant album.

NOVEMBER

Kelsey Waldon - White Noise, White Lines Kentucky country groove rock.

WIVES - Waving Past Nirvana Churning fuzz rock underpins laconic loose vocals, cool.

Pumarosa - I See You Tense synth verses give way to soaring superb choruses.

Jaako Eine Kalevi - Dissolution Finnish synth pop architect doing a very good Matthew Dear impersonation.

Warmduscher - Midnight Dipper “The offspring of a match made in hell between Fat White Family and Paranoid London” – full-on sleazy glam.

DECEMBER

Pond - Don't Look at the Sun (Or You'll Go Blind) – Live My favourite track the band perform live, now finally available on streaming.

Staff Benda Bilili - Jamais de la vie The famous Congolese street band return with tight uplifting grooves.

Khruangbin, Leon Bridges - Texas Sun Sit back, open a cold one, and enjoy (when summer comes back around).

Jimmy "Duck" Holmes - Catfish Blues Mississippi delta blues from the 72 year old Holmes, produced by Dan Auerbach.

Mikal Cronin - Show Me Long-time Ty Segall collaborator serves up some Tom Petty-esque soft rock.

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nightcoremoon · 5 years

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there's lots of tiny brained bad takes of the far left branding things as Bad™ based solely on their association to other things or certain aspects of part of their fanbase.

this isn't to discredit the shit idiot brain fungus plaguing everyone from centrists, the moderate right, the far right, and the alt right, and even some of the moderate left, where they label everything that isn't about a Cishet White Male American Capitalist Bootlicker who's stateist, ambiguously christian/atheist, neurotypical, able-bodied, has "aryan" facial attributes, is an insufferable asshole, and the like, as "SJW garbage".

but see, prejudice and judgment is bad even if it's not motivated by minority demographic. being a rude dismissive asshole is, you know, bad. maybe making fun of a furry or whatever isn't as bad as being a racist, but you're still a fucking dickhead either way. fuck both of you but fuck the racist more. I'll punch both of you but punch the racist twice (maybe a third time for good measure). do y'all understand what I'm trying to get at here with the tiers of badness? the shades of grey? the steps down the path of evil from "kind of rude" to "literally hitler"?

bigotry is not the only bad thing in the world. yeah it's one of the worst, but you can talk about other bad things without discrediting that, which I know is next to impossible for teenagers (or people who never bothered to mentally progress from such) to comprehend.

anyway what sparked this is all the fuckin joker memes. now I went into it expecting, you know, literally taxi driver 2 followed by a silly horror movie about a clown murdering people. which is what the joker of the comics is all about. if I never watched the movie and only saw, what, the killing murray scene, the stairway dancing scene, the trailers, and joaquin phoenix sitting in a padded room and laughing, that's exactly what I'd had gotten.

but like. I fucking watched it because my dad wanted to watch it with me and he fucking loves all things batman (except Ben Affleck). and wolverine but mostly batman. he's a comic nerd. so yeah I went to watch it with him.

and it was legitimately terrifying from a purely psychological perspective. it's LITERALLY the best scary movie I've ever seen without being horror in the slightest. the acting, the writing, the score, the pacing, the cinematography, it was well put together without being a moffat level overproduced mess. it was a good movie. you're allowed to not care for it or not like it but to objectively call it a bad movie is not only a logical fallacy (eye of the beholder) but it also discredits the opinion of every single person who didn't hate it and makes you come off as a pompous fucking asshole rather than having different tastes.

it's about a guy with severe mental trauma in a bad situation trying to make the best of it and care for his family and hold down a job but he gets fucked over from literally every angle and eventually he snaps and makes a mistake and kills the misogynist rich asshats on the train. oh fuck. he could have gone to the police and said self defense and go through the court system but wait, society in gotham doesn't allow for a clean system of justice when you aren't rich. so instead he proceeds to be a major creepazoid turned murdering lunatic blaming everyone else for his own bad situation instead of the whole deal where he did stupid shit like taking a gun into a fucking children's hospital and stuck his fingers inside a child's mouth and stealing shit and falling further down the rabbit hole. until finally, he says fuck it and seeks revenge. the whole bloody mess that follows is his own fault. he chose to kill people. he chose to murder for petty reasons. he made his decisions and he suffered the consequences for it. all of the festering rotten crime in the city spawned by waynecorp's supreme negligence heralded him as a hero and so begins batman's story.

arthur fleck is not a fucking hero. he is a villain through and through. his circumstances were unfortunate but he made the wrong decisions. the world fucked him over and he said okay and retaliated. joker is exactly the fucking same as breaking bad. arthur and walter white are both evil people through their own decisions. but they were once normal people. and that's the point. the scariest monsters in the world are usually the white men angry at the world for their own shortcomings. oswald. ruby. dahmer. bundy. gein. manson. klebold and harris. white. fleck. they're all the filth stuck in the gutter of society that, if left unchecked, has deadly results.

I'm not kidding at all when I say joker was an important movie for myself personally to see exactly when I saw it. because that first half, I'm not gonna lie, it got me. the therapy didn't work and then it was taken away. he didn't eat most days because he had to support his mother. the people he worked with were dickheads, the people he commuted with were dickheads, his boss was a dickhead, people treated him like garbage on the streets. he couldn't remember the trauma inflicted on him when he was a baby but it still warped every aspect of his life. he had aspirations but lacked the skills. he was sad. alone. empty. he was suicidal. he was me.

then he started killing people and using the neighbor girl as a tulpa and I realized oh no oh god oh shit OH FUCK I need to change from this. and I did.

joker is a perfect template of how not to react to the world when it kicks in your teeth. it's a perfect template of a dark movie. just enough to sympathize with the bad guy but not enough to excuse his actions. the opposite of star wars with kylo ren. a good movie. a good character. an amazing actor. a terrible person.

if you watched joker thinking you're watching the story of the protagonist, you're right, but if you conflate protagonist with the good guy, yeah you won't like the fucking movie because it'll leave a sour taste in your mouth. you'll feel slimy. disgusting. unless you're a megadouche shitlord piece of human fucking garbage who wants to cosplay arthur fleck because he's so damn cool like walter white and eric cartman and rick sanchez and bojack horseman and tyler durden and all those FUCKING HORRIBLE LOATHESOME HUMANS TO NEVER EVER TRY TO EMULATE OR YOU ARE AN UNEMPHATIC ASSHOLE AND A MORON TO BOOT.

if you hated the movie, that's fine. you're kinda supposed to hate it. and if you loved the movie, that's fine so long as you understand what the message was. but if it's one of your favorite movies of all time ever made holy shit please go to therapy jesus christ.

still the point of this post is, discrediting the movie as a steaming pile of shit is incredibly ignorant. and as for the "good movies made by white men are only liked by other white men and are therefore bad movies" thing... if y'all can thirst over eddie brock in the trainwreck of venom and admit that the standards of good movie vs bad movie are all subjective, you're a goddamn idiot if you can't apply the same logic and reason to every movie just because some white boys like edgy clowns (even tho joker is way less edgy than pennywise but go off) in abusive relationships with harlequins. oh and assflash newshole, I'm not a white man.

I swear this bandwagoning bullshit is exactly the same mentality as "hurr durr nickelback worst band ever" even though nickelback is ripe with musical talent underneath a few pop songs that they wrote for the record label as part of their career so they can make a fuckin living BECAUSE CAPITALISM IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL and also because of all the misogyny that bled its way into the music industry in the 2000s but that's a topic for another day. 'joker bad' and 'nickelback bad' are products of the same mental decay that social media wrought upon us all, inflicting mass mob mentality and incapacity for individualistic rational thought. which is exactly why there's a war between camp 'joker is bad' and 'joker is amazing' and nobody acknowledges the group in the middle that's like 'joker was good objectively but also terrible subjectively and content-wise'. polar. I could make a political statement and also say how the neoliberals and the fascists are at war while the people in the middle are caught in the crossfire and forced to fight like pawns on a chessboard, but the moderate right, dumbass centrists, pastel commies, and pockets of the moderate left, but that just throws everything into chaos.

tl;dr learn to think for yourselves omg

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale Review

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This RICK AND MORTY review contains spoilers.

Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale

It’s been a while, so let’s first recap the consistent problems with season five of Rick and Morty. Problem one is that characterization feels like it’s either pushed aside in favor of crazy, silly sci-fi nonsense or lost in a muddle of convoluted sci-fi nonsense. Problem two is that episodes are so overloaded with plot and dialogue delivered at such breakneck speed that there’s either no time for jokes or, packed in with everything else going on in these overstuffed episodes, they just don’t land. The missing characterization issue isn’t exclusive to season five, but the lack of laughs is; this has easily been the least-funny season yet.

Now, finally, after a month’s wait, we get the two-part season finale! Does it manage to avoid the problems that have haunted this season until now?

Not really! But some of it certainly looked cool.

“Forgetting Sarick Mortshall”

Though they’re both about testing the strength of Rick and Morty’s relationship and the first does directly lead into the next by virtue of… crows… these really are two separate episodes with two different focuses and tones. This first one is closer to a “normal” season five episode. Sure, it’s got Rick pissing Morty off so much that he goes off on his own anti-Rick adventure (with a dude fittingly named Nick), but, for the majority of the runtime, it’s not handled like it’s all that big of a deal.

Regardless, the inciting incident here of Morty accidentally getting portal juice on his hand, thus creating a portal in his hand that connects to Nick’s thigh is a really clever one. It’s unfortunate that an odd side effect of a series with a premise that allows for infinite sci-fi possibilities is that many concepts, no matter how much creative effort is put behind them, feel like retreads that fall into a similar category (e.g., the season premiere with its Narnia world that evolved at hyper-speed felt not entirely dissimilar from the sequence of Morty living an entire life in “The Vat of Acid Episode” which, in turn, felt not so dissimilar from that time he played Roy: A Life Well Lived). However, this portal in the hand thing feels totally new and fresh.

They get some good mileage out of it too, with some cool action sequences (like Jackie Chan!) and inspired moments like Morty making a dude eat shit, literally, by transferring the contents of a chamber pot by way of the hand/thigh portal system or when Nick takes control of the car Morty’s driving by sticking his hand through Morty’s portal hand. It’s also used smartly in the most effective dramatic moment in “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall” when Morty chooses to destroy his portal connection to Rick by placing his hand on a train track so that it’s severed off, and then drops the hand-portal into Nick’s thigh-portal to kill him. It’s all very clever, well-executed stuff, though, typing it out, it sure sounds weird.

How Morty comes to the decision to sever his hand and connection to Nick is less well-executed. It unfortunately brought to mind the episode with Planetina, perhaps the worst of season five, as in both episodes Morty realizes the person he’s spending time with ain’t so great because—shock horror—they’re cool with killing innocent people! Yes, Morty has a moral core, so it’s not like it doesn’t make some sense, but it’s just that, with the amount of people he and Rick murder out of petty anger or just by happenstance all the time, it feels like they need to sell his change of heart a little more.

The other half of this episode is about Rick replacing Morty with two crows, at first as a joke, but then he gradually comes to realize crows are actually cool and can teach him about empathy. The idea of it is that this “two crows” thing is engineered to be a silly, one-off inanity, but then the joke becomes so much more as the writers sincerely explore the concept. However, it never really successfully elevates itself above its initial inane premise. I still just found myself thinking “What is this crow bullshit? Why crows?”

It’s also becoming a bit of a predictable Rick and Morty staple that characters that appear incidental at first actually have a whole society and way of life we get to learn all about (the face-huggers, the Narnia people, the Chuds). It’s an obvious plot device to return to seeing as this is a sci-fi series about visiting new universes and alien worlds all the time, so it would be irrational to suggest they stop doing it altogether, but did this particular plot really need to go in that direction? The introduction of the crow society comes out of nowhere and it isn’t convincing that Rick decides to follow a path of empathy with his two crows right after he just killed a whole bunch of other crows. Anyway, the only thing that makes the crow plot “interesting” is that the writers commit to it so hard it carries into the next episode.

Season five style, “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall,” is not funny. I chuckled at the very last moment in the tag when Garbage Goober said “Mmm, trash, I love trash” and I smiled at Rick’s (possibly improv’d) rant about watching sitcoms on your shoes, but that was about it. Still, at least there were the aforementioned clever moments and it got a tiny bit emotional when Morty told Rick “I miss you, man” and when Rick admitted their relationship was abusive.

“Rickmurai Jack”

Lore, lore, lore! How do you like it? Hopefully you like it lots because “Rickmurai Jack” is chock full of the stuff!

The Rick and Morty team, however, absolutely hate it! Well, they can’t totally hate it, or they wouldn’t have bothered to make this episode, but they definitely have an acrimonious relationship with continuity and canon. Dan Harmon has stated before that giving Rick a tragic backstory would ruin the character and Rick himself reaffirms that opinion in the episode. In fact, the writers can’t help themselves in breaking the fourth wall throughout to remind us how much Rick hates canon and how it’s better to “keep it episodic.”

It’s understandable why they resent canon. It’s got to be much easier to write one-off, funny sci-fi adventures than to sustain serialized plots told over multiple episodes. Unfortunately for them, way the hell back in season one Rick and Morty destroyed their universe, killed alternate universe versions of themselves, and took their places. The series kept this plot point intact, referencing it later, and also gradually made Morty’s character more jaded in response to this, as well as the many other horrors he witnessed. In other words, they made this canon bed and now they have to have adventures in it (I know how this sounds and I’m fine with it).

Before it gets to all that serious canon, however, “Rickmurai Jack” has to honor the continuity of the previous episode by tidying away the stupid crow plot. The continuity is certainly sound: the crows weren’t funny in the last episode and they’re not funny in this one either! There’s an anime intro. There are villains whose names flash on the screen in big letters. There’s an arch-villain named CrowScare who has sex with Rick’s crows. Yeah. Fine. At least this part is done away with relatively quickly. (Side note: Odd that Rick becomes a bird-based superhero and yet there is nary a reference to Bird Person.)

Rick and Morty Confirms A Dark Beth Theory

By Alec Bojalad

Rick and Morty Season 5: Bruce Chutback Gets the Show Back on Track

By Alec Bojalad

After this, the episode maintains the season five status quo by continuing to be unfunny. I don’t believe I laughed at this one at all, although I liked Evil Morty’s line, “I lied. That second seat’s a toilet.” The lack of comedy is a bit more forgivable, however, as “Rickmurai Jack” isn’t trying as hard to be funny. This really is the loreiest lorepisode they’ve ever done and so the focus is on backstory and continuity to do with Evil Morty’s long-gestating plan.

As one of the annoying nerds constantly complaining that this show doesn’t do enough character development anymore, I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this episode (Rick angrily says as much) and I am, somewhat. It’s cool to see Evil Morty again and to hear his awesome theme music. Personally, I was never asking for Rick backstory and I’m a bit surprised his origins more or less are just the easy answer of “dead wife” after all, but sure, that’s fine. More profound and fucked up is the origin of all the Mortys in the multiverse, engineered by Ricks to be the perfect sidekick.

I just wish all this development hadn’t been given to me, season five style, in such volume at such speed. The fact of the matter is I was straight-up confused about what the hell was going on sometimes. I understood Evil Morty’s plan enough to get that he’s extricating himself from the cycle of Ricks and Mortys (and maybe ending the cycle forever?), but where did he fly to? Did he kill every Rick and Morty ever except our protagonists and whoever they escaped with or just everyone in the Citadel for some reason? Did he remove all portal fluid from the multiverse? I also lost the plot of Rick’s backstory, not understanding why he was going around killing all these other Ricks until I watched it back and realized he was going after the Rick who had killed his wife and kid Beth; I still feel it could’ve been more clearly presented though. Also confusing was the sequence in Rick uses some of his blood to create Big Boy(?) who… transfers power to Rick when he’s attacked… or something?

Look, I know how this goes. I’m a stupid moron and the nerds in the comments will be more than ready to let me know that everything that was confusing to me was, in fact, completely obvious, duh-doy, and here’s why and I should stop watching the series, and so on, and so forth. However, something I’ve always marveled at (as I did only two episodes ago) with Rick and Morty is, despite how crazy and layered its ambitious plotting gets, I never lose track of what’s happening. So, either my very high IQ is dropping points or this shit was kind of confusing.

Regardless, it’s appreciated the creators of this show finally gave in and threw a bunch of continuity and canon in my whining face. It just would’ve been nicer if it had been delivered in a clearer way that was easier to process and to feel something about. Like, every time Evil Morty has appeared in the series, he’s been an intimidating and chilling presence. I did get chills when his theme song kicked in this time, but that was more of a Pavlovian response earned from his previous appearances. Otherwise, I was just bewildered by all the information being chucked at me. Still, if nothing else, it was certainly a cool-looking spectacle.

What’s best about this episode is what it sets up for the next season. Who knows how long they’ll stick with this, but it’s implied that Rick is out of portal juice, which makes him that much less god-like and which could maybe, finally, reintroduce some actual stakes into Rick and Morty instead of every episode being about a sarcastic unstoppable murderous sci-fi family. I truly do look forward to that.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The other best thing is Mr. Poopybutthole’s profound advice that we should be brave enough to love the people who love us back. Thank you for your wisdom, Mr. Poopybutthole.

The post Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale Review appeared first on Den of Geek.

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lifeof-quietdesperation · 6 years

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First sentence prompt: Is there a reason you never say my first name?

Is there a reason you never say my first name?

When we first met in university, years, eons, a lifetime ago, I shook your hand and introduced myself. We were at a party, an orientation of sort, and everyone was at least 3 beers in. I looked you in the eye, and gave my best impression of a functioning, sophisticated adult, complete with a firm, albeit slightly sweaty, handshake.

“Alex Moffat. Nice to meet you.”

Cool as a clam, you nodded, shook my hand, and said nothing about my clammy hands. That, I think, was what made me fall in love with you.

But even then, you never called me by my first name. It was always “hey”, or “Moff”, sometimes “babe”, but never Alex.

Not even when we ended up in the same lecture theatre the following semester, always sitting rows apart, with me somewhere in the middle by the aisle while you only ever took the back-row seat closest to the exit. Not even when we became friends and met up regularly at the school cafeteria, arguing over coffee the different nihilistic viewpoints in Bojack Horseman versus Rick and Morty.

Not even when we started hanging out outside of school, in your room, in my room, in the mall, at the movies, in restaurants.

Not even when you first kissed me, in the alcove on the third floor of the library, amidst dusty aisles and even older books. Nothing more than a quick peck between furtive glances, my heart beating so rapidly and loudly in the quiet stillness of the library. You turned and walked away before I could say anything, and even then, after the two hundred and twenty-four times I’ve called you by your name, you’ve never once called me by mine.

Not even when we first had sex, in my apartment while my roommates were out. In the dark, on my bed with freshly laundered 180-thread count sheets. Right before you came, you bit my shoulder and I think I heard you breathe “Moff” as you licked your bitemarks, soft kisses as if in apology for biting me. I was too busy coming my brains out to pay attention.

Not even when we bumped into my parents after dinner one day outside our regular restaurant near campus, and they stood in front of us expectantly, eyebrows raised, until I had no choice but to introduce you as a friend from school. Dad shook your hand, and asked, genteel and polite, if I have been good in school. I thought you’d be spooked, seeing how Dad has had a reputation in school for being a strict, no-nonsense professor, but you took it all in stride, looked him in the eye unblinkingly and returned his strong and sturdy handshake. “Moff’s the best,” you said, never once breaking eye contact.

Not even when I finally introduced you to my best mates, in a pub after tutorial one evening, and we spent the entire night complaining about school and drinking ourselves silly. You had been standoffish, bordering on rude, and I got a little annoyed but you made it up to me that night with gentle kisses and soft murmurings, saying how you weren’t good with new people but you’ll try harder next time, for me.

I never once dared to ask you why. You were the cool, mature one in the relationship and I didn’t want you to think less of me and my petty concerns.

Perhaps, it was a cute couple’s nickname thing. No one called me “Moff” but you. It felt like a secret, a code, something special for just the two of us.

You have never once stayed the night, and that was perhaps when I started putting the pieces together.

We never met each other’s friends, never held hands in public, never had sex facing each other.

Perhaps I’d always known, deep inside, why you never called me “Alex”.

With “Moff”, or “babe”, perhaps, you could tell yourself you were dating a regular girl. The girl-next-door you could bring home to show your parents. The girl you could settle down and start a family with. The girl you could grow old with.

You can never call me by my name, but I’ll always be Alex Moffat, the boy who fell in love with you after a single handshake.

______________

There’s a reason why I’ve never called you by your name.

You probably realised it early in our relationship but being the kind and gentle soul that you are, you never brought it up. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop but it has been months and you never said a word.

You remind me so much of him. You have the same eyes, a beautiful pale blue around the edges of your irides with spots of brown towards the center. I’ve always loved your eyes. I could never be the first to look away, for staring at your eyes made me feel like I was floating in the cosmos, drifting, unanchored, drowning. “Partial heterochromia”, you said, abashed, as you tried to shield your eyes from me, “probably genetic because my dad has them too.”

Your shoulders are almost identical, skinny and slightly stooped, except you have a little mole on your left shoulder and in the throes of passion, I sometimes find myself biting into it during sex, perhaps, subconsciously, in an effort to rid you of the marring on your skin, and make your shoulders identical to the ones I loved so.

Even your mannerism, the way your long fingers move in gesture as you often do when you get excited. So expressive, so elegant, so like him. Even your slightly awkward gait, the way you slouch and seem to close in on yourself to make yourself seem smaller when you’re unsure and hesitant. On you, it seemed like a sign of uncertainty, but on him, it looked like a quirk, a characteristic trait, but I guess he has had years on you, growing into his own skin.

Even your idiosyncrasies, the way you absentmindedly correct someone’s grammar mid-sentence, and when I call you out on it, as I often do to him too, you shrug and say, “society as we know it would collapse without some semblance of rules and regulations, and adhering to proper grammar structure is my way of keeping the world’s balance. That’s just how I was raised. A grammar superhero.”

Even the way you look at me when you’re aroused, eyes blown, with quick flutterings of your eyelids, and the slight tilt of your head tells me you’re thinking about sex. That soft moan you make when I kiss your collarbone, how you’re slightly ticklish around your lower back, the way your sensitive pale skin flushes with beard burn when I get a little overzealous, but always hidden under your clothes, out of sight for he has trained me a little too well to leave visible marks above the collar.

I knew who you were the moment I saw you at the orientation party. How could I not? God knows he has mentioned you enough. Our conversations almost always include you, and I admit, I’ve always been a little envious of the love between the two of you, and even though you were never where we were, I’ve never felt good enough for him, worthy enough, special enough. A dirty secret never is.

I’ve never called you by your name because that’s not what I called him. I’ve never called you by your name because a part of me knew that I would be shattering the illusion that I’m with him instead of you. WIth the number of similarities between the two of you, I have always gotten away with imagining him in your place. It’s sick, I know, but it’s the only way I can have him, and I’ll have him any way I can.

We bumped into him, the other day. A sick perverse part of me wanted to be called out, for you to realise what I’ve been doing behind your back, behind his back, for me to finally embrace him in broad daylight, for him to accept me for who I am, and for him to accept himself for who he was, and has always been. But I saw the look of sheer panic in his eyes, gone in a flash, too quick for you to have picked up. So I plastered on a fake smile, shook his hands, and told him how you great you were, all the while referring to him instead.

It was in that moment, I think, that he realised what I’ve been doing, how I’ve been treating you. It was in that moment that he saw me for the disgusting, vile creature that I’ve always been.

I only call you “Moff”, for that’s what I called him too.

He tried to make me call him by his first name, when we first met, when I was but a fresh-faced undergraduate. But I couldn’t, for he will always be Professor to me. He had laughed when I called him that in bed, chiding me gently for reminding him of his age. So we came to a compromise, last name at the very least, if I could bear it, he teased. I found that I couldn’t. Moffat sounded too stuffy, too formal, too distant, and so I shortened it to Moff.

Maybe if I had met you first, I would be contented with what we have. I do love you, but it’s a warped, distorted kind of love, a love that’s an extension of the all-consuming love I feel for him. A love that makes me giddy and breathless, at being given the chance to imagine what it would be like if he were twenty years younger, if I had met him as a peer at a campus party like how I met you, if we could be with each other the way I’ve been with you.

I can never call you by your name, because you have never been anything but Moff to me, and I will probably never love anyone the way I love him.

#writing prompt #prompt generator #prose #short story #mine #fiction #unbeta'd #creative writing

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ask-otto-lammermeier · 7 years

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“Stars” & “Other stuff” !

Stars: Experiences:

Sun: Have you ever had alcohol?No, but one time I tried a beer flavored jelly bean?Sirius: Have you ever failed a class? Nope. (Knock on wood)Rigel: Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster? I seem to recall being dragged by Ilse and throwing up afterwards.Deneb: Have you ever been out of your home country? My whole family visited Canada when I was 2, but I don’t remember anything.Arcturus: Have you cried out of something other than sadness? I’ve stressed-cried. A lot.Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about? My first time sailing. Absolutely magical, even though I was terrified the entire time.Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about? Besides my friends and family (obviously), I think I stress over my grades a LOT.Canopus: Have you ever broken a bone? No, but I’ve sprained my arm in a mildly embarrassing way. Only Moritz knows the cause, and he would never tell anyone.Bellatrix: Have you ever been forced to lie/keep a secret? Before I came out to my parents, all the time.Alphard: Have you ever lost a friend?When I was about 7, I made friends with a girl about a year younger than me. Then she beat me in Monopoly. Being the petty child I was, the end result was not pretty.Vega: What’s something you’ve done that you wish you hadn’t? I make a lot of jokes, and once or twice I’ve gone too far and immediately regretted it. I try to watch myself though.

Other stuff: Wishes

Comet: What’s your big dream? I’d love to discover something brand new.Asteroid: What does your dream life look like? Traveling the world (preferably with Georg if he’s willing) going on ‘adventures’.Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t? I can’t tell you, silly!Nebula: If you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be? Probably waiting so long to accept that I wasn’t straight. Self hate sucks man.Shooting Star: If you could bring back one thing, what would it be? I’d like to bring back the idea of worshipping cats like they did in ancient Egypt.Pulsar: What do you hope to do in the next 10 years? Publishing a book would be hecka cool.Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die? I guess make some form of impact on the world?Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be? Definitely Rick Astley. I’ve heard he’s a really cool guy.Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? I wish that Melchior would just admit that he’s a furry, but I know he’s afraid of what we’ll think. :(Black Hole: What’s the last thing you want to see? As in before I die? Probably a really cute puppy. @ anyone with me on my death bed: bring dogs!

Thx Ernst!

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thefandomships-imagines · 7 years

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Ship

hi. ❤️ could i get a avengers, x men and suicide squad ship? 5'9, inverted triangle body shape, brown hair with bangs, heterochromia ( blue eyes, left one’s mixed with hazel ), baby face, dimples. slytherin. isfj. bi-curious. at first, i’m shy, quiet and reserved. usually playful, dirty minded and fun around friends. a perfectionist, control freak, slight clean freak. stubborn, jealous, emotional, punctual, impulsive, selfish, socially awkward. if i’m annoyed or impatient, i can say something mean or witty which later on i may regret. i put on a mask of confidence, but i’m really not due to my body insecurities and the small gap between my front teeth. when i’m hurt, i turn petty and may complain. when i’m nervous, i talk a lot. hate crying in front of people. don’t like to be forced into stuff or being compared to somebody. i don’t like to ask people for help. i can’t fall asleep without music. dislike romance. i stress over little things, like - make a big deal out of nothing. nervous whenever i do something out of my comfort zone. hopefully, one day i’ll find my true calling, but right now i’m thinking about becoming an actress. motherly towards kids. fashion is my passion, as well as reading and role playing on tumblr. after finishing high school, i want to travel the world. overprotective over my mom and lil’ sis, knowing my mom is a single parent. daddy issues. bad at cooking. spontaneous road trips with loud music on is life. prefers tea over coffee. dress to impress. thank you so much!

Note: Gifs or characters are not mine! I just get them off of tumblr or google, if you see one that’s yours and isnt credited, please contact me and i’ll fix that :)

Hello lovely!

Avengers:

I ship you with Bruce Banner!

You strike me as a person that spends a lot of time in their ‘shell’, and isn’t very comfortably with others very quickly due to your reserved nature and said ‘ mask’ you tend to wear in front of people you don’t know very well. It takes some time in order to get comfortable with others and that’s okay, and if there’s someone that understands that it’s Bruce, the only one who could see trough the confident banter next to Wanda Maximoff. It’s one of the things that made him interested in you from the moment he met you. He is not the most extraverted person himself, not really going with playful conversation like the rest of the group tries to do. It wasn’t until you two had both stayed behin while the rest went out into town that you realised that you had more in common than you thought. You got into conversation and somehow he immediately felt comfortable around you and started opening up to you bit by bit. This encouraged you to, unawarely, do the same. He kind of dragged you out of your shell and you started hanging out together more and more, which your friend Wanda did not take long to notice. How you got together: Stupidly, Bruce had confided in his friend Tony about talking to you and about how comfortable you made him feel. Big mistake. Because if Tony smells drama, a way to draw his friend out of his comfort zone or both, he loooves to exploit it. One of the things bruce told him was that he did not understand how insecure you felt sometimes. When Tony asked why, the answer was that he found you absolutely breathtaking. You were beautiful, unique and you made him feel accepted and made him laugh. You’re honest, protective and smart. In short : he sounded like a lovesick puppy. And since Tony knew Wanda was your friend, he went to her. Turned out she shipped it too and together, the unusual duo concocted a plan…… Bruce would NEVER hurt you, or make you feel small in a bad way. He respects you immensly and understands about 9/10 of the time. You’re the only one allowed completely into his mind, and hopes you trust him excactly the same. You’re also the only one allowed to tease him. Ever.

X-men:

I ship you with Havoc!

Alex seems like a real asshole at first, and he probably was when he was younger. Tough from the moment that Charles and Erik went to fetch him out of jail, he changed completely. When you joined the group, it took time to get used to him . A LOT of time. Actually, he used to think of you as a little rude, and had trouble reading you so he didn’t usually make contact with you. This was the biggest problem in the beginning, not being able to get a read off each other causes a lot of fights and snarky comments, making the rest of the group unhappy with you seeming like enemies more than comrades. He began to feel more like understanding what you were about after spotting you in your free time. The way you were with your little sister, the bond you had reminded him of his own little brother. He saw how protective you were over her, for example when you got in trouble with a couple of jerks and you got them to fuck off. It made him want to be a better person for his own family.

When you got back, he acted completely differently than how he had seen you with your family. Your wall was back up and that was something he did understand. After all, he was the one that tore everything apart, landed in jail, all because he acted differenly, to not be vulnerable. He kept notincing more layers of yours after that. The way you spoke so indifferently and playfully to Raven and Banshee, wheres you were much more considerate of ‘Bozo’ aka Hank. The way ‘the claws’ came out when you were pissed, and the way you sat by yourself, buried in a book pretending to read while half-sulking later. He started admiring you, though you never picked up on that and just kept doing so until Hank, while annoyed wih Alex, uncharacteristically told him ‘to stop being a little bitch and do something other than swooning from afar, if he’s so tough’. So thats what he did. At first you really didnt understand why the hell he was interested in you and you actually thought it was a joke. Luckily that didn’t last very long. Alex is now the most attentive and protective guy you could wish for, though you’d never even thought of him being an option.

Suicide Squad:

I ship you with Rick Flag!

Rick, after all that happened was broken, lightly said. He didn’t know what to do with himself after the battle. Sure, he’d go home, shower, eat and sleep, but his visions of the world and of right and wrong were twisted up. Almost as if he’d lost his purpose. Good guys had turned out to be bad and a firebreathing-god gangster had sacrificed himself to save the rest, his family he had called it. So he just pretended to have moved on. The baddies went back to jail and he went back to work.

Rick and you hadn’t been on good or bad terms. You just accepted the fact that you co-existed. Sometimes you dares joke with each other. You see, Rick automatically hated criminals and didn’t hate figures associated with the law in a good way. The thing is, you were neither. Well, you didn’t have a record, though your reputation was…..interesting. Which is why you got in the team, you were granted full immunity for the future. To be honest you would have done it for free, since you kinda do live on this planet and rather not have it detroyed. You weren’t as overpowered as your late friend El Diablo or as crazy as Harley, but damnit if you weren’t a badass. Knives were your thing, and at your thing, you were the best. Granted, being about 5 times as agile and 3 times as fast as the average human also helped. And all while looking slayin’. Yeah, let’s pass the spandex. So, after the battle you simply returned to your old life as well, occasionally standing by on a A.R.G.U.S. mission, which is, after a couple of months, where you saw Rick again. When you saw him, you almost flinched. He seemed so lost. Dark bags under his eyes, abviously thinner, paler than ever and he barely opened his mouth. Mr. gruffypants certainly didn’t deserve this. When Rick saw you after a couple of months, his reaction was more the opposite of yours. He was slowly recovering from all his emotional damage, and now, he felt guilty. Very guilty as he looked at you. He was moving on but he felt wrong looking at another person, and finding that he enjoyed watching the way their outfit hugged their curves. He did not speak to you that night.

Fastforward three weeks. A group of agents were chasing an installment of the Triads. Yay, which meant you were called out of your comfy bed again since annoying you was easier that getting Boomerang, who would try to escape….. In the meanwhile, the guilt had been another factor combined in crushing Rick’s mental condition. The chase was going nowehere, well, apart from four killed and two wounded at your side, It was safe to say it was a shitty night. When your team lost track of said Triads at 3 o’clock in the moring shit hit the fan. You had to call it in to Walker, who was not amused. Ambulances and coroners where called in an you were making sure everyone that needed it got help. You were not that much of a villain. All were accounted for, except your brusque Captain. Damnit. When you finally did find him, you did not know excacty what to do. He was huddled against the wall of an abandoned building, your silly little superiour. Slowly, you approached him, sliding against the wall next to him. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

You awoke to a car honking. Great, you thought. Six in the moring, in an abandoned builing, half asleep with Flags’ head on my lap…. FLAGS’ HEAD ON MY LAP. Shit. He did look cute, relaxed. After about an hour he started to stir. ‘I haven’t slept this long since months.’ he smiled. ‘Great.’ you deadpanned. ‘I’m oficially functional as a plushie.’

You might be an odd couple, and you might not have been a ‘good guy’, but you were Captain Rick Flag’s salvation. And now, whichever idiot tries to mess with you hasn’t just got a knife-wielding superhuman after them, but also a very pissed of Rick Flag. The rest of the squad loved to tease you guys about it all. And that’s all fun and games until there’s another knife stuck in the wall at A.R.G.U.S. headquarters, which, lightly said, makes Walker, not amused.

Hope ya liked them all :3

WELL THAT WAS ONE HELL OF A RIDE. 1560 WORDS HELP. Extra elaborate because IM OFICCIALLY BACK *cheers*. Let’s just hope i wont have any forced hiatusus anytime soon again (@.@) Also, thanks for sending me a message and being so sweet!

I might be a lil rusty so if you find any silly errors made by me please send in something so le me can fix it :D

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

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KATY PERRY FT. NICKI MINAJ - SWISH SWISH [3.36] *types "sports" and "feuds" into subhead, gets 100000000 pageviews*

Mo Kim: "Cartman is introduced to Katy Perry's songwriting staff, who turn out to be a group of manatees. The staff, who live in a large tank, pick up "idea balls" from a large pile of them, each of which has a different animal, quote from direct-to-DVD sleeper hit Bring It On 4: The Bringing On Of The It, or gentrified black slang term written on it, and deliver them, five at a time, to a machine that then forms a verse based on those ideas. Katy Perry refuses to sing if any idea ball is removed from their tank, making critique an unfeasible practice with her. Cartman secretly removes a ball from their tank, causing Katy Perry to stop working, and then convinces the Capitol Records president that she is spoiled and abusing the executives' generosity. Cartman convinces the president that they need to show them what is what. The president decides to pull the new Katy Perry album before its release. Cartman feels victorious, but Taylor Swift shows up, saying that she just convinced the president to tack a 2014 Nicki Minaj verse he found in his Recycle Bin onto the end and release the damn song anyway." [2]

Thomas Inskeep: If you thought "Look What You Made Me Do" was petty, you haven't heard nothin' yet. Clumsy lyrics, a bad early '90s house retread track, a guest verse so phoned-in that Minaj sounds bored doing it, and worst of all, Katy Perry herself, the saddest virus in pop music. Fortunately, it seems that pop fans have developed an immunity to her, based on the pathetic chart performance of her current album and its attendant singles. That sound you hear isn't a "swish," it's Perry's career circling the drain. [0]

Ryo Miyauchi: Genius insists with all its investigative power that this hater-pop is personal, but Katy Perry throws limp jabs that rings anonymous as the dance beat behind her. At least Duke Dumont's wheelhouse is more reliable to entertain. [5]

Crystal Leww: How is it that Duke Dumont is credited as a producer for basically taking Maya Jane Coles and Fatboy Slim production and then somehow making it bad? [1]

Katherine St Asaph: "Walking on Air" was the best track on Prism, and I'm still not sure how Maya Jane Coles isn't everywhere for how much she's influenced pop, so the synthesis was bound to be both good and ascribed to no one involved. "Things have changed from true believers of the music to a more commercialized version of what used to be," said Roland Clark about his infinitely sampled "I Get Deep," so I'm sure he's just thrilled about his words trickling up uncredited, via Fatboy Slim via Duke Dumont, to a Katy Perry song. (He's not disowning it, at least.) If you're very charitable you might see this as Duke Dumont trying, as all pop-house producers do, to prove he Knows His History, but perhaps not, given the aforementioned infinite samples and how Katy's team uses it as a reaction GIF. But at least it belongs in a house track -- unlike the hook (probably Starrah), which belongs in a track that draws out its menace, or the verses (probably Sarah Hudson; evidence), which belong in Pink's "Can't Take Me Home" and in the care of several more editors. (Editors one and two: "what the fuck?" Editor three: "And every bad lyric has nothing to do with basketball anyway. If you're going to keep glomming onto sports because they're now the monoculture that music is not, at least stick to the metaphor." Managing editor: "STOP BEING MUSIC GEEKY.") Everything suggests the kind of song that only coheres with the memes and fake context. Yet somehow it works: the unsweet tea to Meghan Trainor's Arnold Palmer of "Me Too," a machine that looks inexplicably polished. [7]

Madeleine Lee: Finally, a pop single with a house beat that I don't like! I mean, the beat is fine, but I can't enjoy it over the lyrics, which are supposed to be fierce but just sound silly in their mix of bizarre analogies (my personal favourite: "a tiger...don't need opinions from a shellfish") and parroted clapback phrases. Even the robo-voice sample is bad -- that long pause inserted before "what the fuck" is the sound of an air ball. [2]

Nortey Dowuona: A thin, slipping bassline over flat drums. Katy sings blandly. Nicki spits a sharp-toothed verse that is there and then gone. [5]

Frank Kogan: Swish kiss plish, wish the lyrics were different from this. Aside from them, the sound is weird and emphatic and grabby as if she were a Rick James protégé, and jolts me to happy attention. Of course Teena Marie, the Rick James protégé, would've run a thousand rings and wings and epicycles around this. But this track is great for using just a touch of Teena and then continuing to bear down on that little touch, getting all it can out of its little somersault. [8]

Maxwell Cavaseno: The "dance like dubstep" line by Nicki is the perfect thing to overstate as to why both artists have been failing to hit their marks. In Perry's case, there's been an insistent attempt to change what's working for her and mimic other people's successes when, considering how the personality-bleached "Rise" was a home run for her, that's the last thing she needed to do. And Minaj's verse-by-numbers, complete with unnecessary sung outro and dustbin bars, feels like someone who's been sleepwalking since 2012. It's a bitter irony: someone desperate to change who never needed to, and someone too stubborn to recognize how antiquated they've become. Plus, this bad Duke Dumont hijack of Maya Jane Coles doesn't even sound like anything plugged into what was hot at any particular time. From the melodies to the cloying attempt at a catchphrase, it feels so disconnected from any real attempt at a hit to the point you wonder why this was released as it was. Greater songs have been kept out of sight. [2]

Will Adams: In the aftermath of Perry's promo campaign for Witness, a fever dream of live streams and awkward celeb collabs in feeble support of Katy's Great Awokening, "Swish Swish" doesn't look so bad. On first glance it seemed as noxious as it read on paper: more references cherry picked from a position of privilege smooshed together with more reverse engineered memes, from Backpack Kid to the cameo sopped video. Yes, the song itself still isn't great. There's still too much reverb, and there's still some unfortunate scansion and even more unfortunate use of the English language. But the sonic references make a difference; Maya Jane Coles' continued influence on pop is a trend I warmly welcome, and if "I Get Deep" needed to get a reboot for the mid-late '10s, keeping it tied to its house roots is a thoughtful choice. "Swish Swish" is at its best when the excess surrounding it is ignored. [5]

Alfred Soto: Apparently this is an "anti-bullying" track! It's not my job to learn intentions, not when "Swish Swish" is a mishmash of incongruous and unhappily cobbled samples, strange vocal choices, and an inapposite Nicki Minaj cameo. [2]

Alex Clifton: Look, I tried to give this a point for Nicki Minaj singing "I already despise you" in the sweetest way, but I can't do it. "Swish Swish" is the blandest Katy Perry song I've ever heard, which is really saying something. Much as I loathed "Bon Appetit," at least that had, er, memorable moments. Nothing here stands out, a sin for a diss track: the beat is half-assed, the insults are weak ("you're 'bout as cute as an old coupon expired" -- what on earth does that mean, Katy?), and the delivery is emotionless. A song about being the baddest bitch on the block who kills people needs swagger, which has never been Perry's strong point. Say what you will about Taylor Swift, but at least in "Look What You Made Me Do" she sounds icy and in charge. Perry doesn't even have that going for her. [0]

Stephen Eisermann: Nicki's verse is a blast -- quick-witted, fun, and catchy -- and deserving of a much better song. But here, it's just a silver lining on a dark ass cloud. Nothing about this song comes across as sincere -- where Taylor's vindictiveness comes from a place of actual anger, I just don't think Katy cares enough to fight with her. And that's totally fine, but there is no need to fake it! Also, the release of this song feels so weird considering she went on a reconciliation press tour earlier in this album cycle, no? [3]

Joshua Copperman: Swap the two artists around, replace the video with literally anything else, and it's much better - all the pieces are there, including the Duke Dumont-produced beat, but the "old coupon expired" lines aren't iconic; they're dumb. Same with the video, which tries to be a mess and succeeds too well. At least Nicki seems to know what is what. Katy, on the other hand, does not know what is what. She just uses dated memes in her already overblown video struts. What the heck? [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Katy Perry #Nicki Minaj #Swish Swish

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cake-by-thepound · 7 years

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This is really random but what do you think Richonne's first petty argument as a couple was about??? I can't even imagine Michonne getting mad at Rick over some dumb shit like him leavin them dusty jeans on the floor lol

Lmao. Yeah, I can’t really imagine them arguing over something like that. I feel like Michonne just has a certain standard, and Rick makes sure he meets it, whether subconsciously or deliberately. So he’s not leaving his drawers on the floor all day. Unless hers are down there, too. 😄He keeps the toilet seat down and the kitchen clean. He takes out the garbage without her having to ask. (Where? I don’t know, but he takes it, dammit, lol.) He’s an equal partner in their relationship and in their lives, so I think it’d be rare for her to have anything to complain about.

If anything, it’d probably involve Rick being jealous of someone flirting with Michonne. And not mad at her of course, but I can see him doing that murder twitch and Michonne thinking it’s silly for him to be jealous (although on a deeper level, she kinda likes it). So it’s not a serious argument, but maybe it takes up a drive home. Or maybe they argue over Rick shaving. 🤔 Though I like to believe Michonne has come to her senses and enjoys his face losing that war at this point. So maybe the tables have turned and he wants shave, but she doesn’t want him to. Or… I could see them having a difference of opinion on how to ground Carl for something. (For sneaking to the Sanctuary, for example.) Like Michonne thinks Rick is too soft on him. Or vice versa.

Whatever it is, I wish we could see it? Even though that’s not the show we’re watching, I’m dying for more of Grimes family life – the domestic moments; the parenthood; the little nothing fights. But I guess that’s what fanfiction is for. 🤗

#i'm about 89% sure i'm gonna end up writing all these scenarios now lol #i miss them so much 😩#it's gonna be a long six months #richonne

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nagitolovebug · 8 years

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Star Asks

I’m answering these all for my silly wife whom i love this is for you @angeltendou

-Mercury: What’s your full name? Lmao I know I have like 30 million last names but as far as what most people (and I) know it’s AnaSofia Gonzalez.

-Venus: What’s your first language? Spanish lmao there are videos of me singing as a child in Spanish and I’m just like damn ok

-Earth: Where’s your home? Idk I guess it’s just a feeling but I feel at home wherever I’m safe, warm, and happy and I think I’ve found that with certain people which both terrifies me and makes me wanna cry but thanks to those people

-Mars: What’s your sexuality? Lol, I’m gay as fuck

-Jupiter: Do you have any siblings? Technically, I have one, by blood. If I’m speaking from the heart, I have a person who I consider no less, if anything much more than a sibling, so I’m going to say 2.

-Saturn: Any pets? Yes, a silly little cocker spaniel named Dobby (bc I’m a nerd)

-Uranus: What’s your hobby? Writing, which I do love, but haven’t done much of lately, I’m sad to say

-Neptune: When’s your birthday? September 23

-Pluto: What time is it right now where you are? 11:43 pm

-Moon: What are you currently studying/hope to study? I’ve always wanted to major in writing and write my own novels, although, as of late, I’ve taken to a deep fascination of space and the sky and what lies beyond, and though science is not my forte I may look towards studying that as well. I’m also yearning to learn Italian.

-Sun: Have you ever had alcohol? Once, at a party at my grandparents house, I thought this mysterious drink on the counter was one my favorite sodas, Colombiana, but I wasn’t sure; so, to make sure it was before I poured myself some, I put my finger to the nozzle where there was a drop of it and tasted it. It was disgusting, and certainly not Colombiana. As it turns out, it was beer. Other than that, no.

-Sirius: Have you ever failed a class? Nope

-Rigel: Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster? Yes, several, and I find them quite fun, although the sever anxiety I have before riding them could be left out, preferably.

-Deneb: Have you ever been out of your home country? Yes, several times. I spent a month in Colombia with my cousins, then returned a year later for a wedding. Also, as a baby, I’ve been told I went to the Dominican Republic. I’m going to England in the summer.

-Arcturus: Have you ever cried out of something other than sadness? Tears are second-nature to me, as free flowing as the blood in my veins. I’ve cried of fear, anger, frustration, happiness, guilt, out of being overwhelmed, out of feeling trapped, out of loss, out of complete gratitude and vulnerability to another person. Yes.

-Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about? I still have petty grudges for people I’ll never see again, real grudges for what someone has done to hurt me. I suppose a profound memory and the one that comes to mind when presented with this question is when I locked myself in the bathroom out of a paralyzation of fear and cried.

-Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about? My friends, and their well-being and happiness.

-Canopus: Have you ever broken a bone? No sirree

-Bellatrix: Have you ever been forced to lie/keep a secret? Oh, all the time.

-Alphard: Have you ever lost a friend? Yes, we were incredibly close, and although we still talk it’s like there’s a big cloud above us and you know it’ll never be quite what it once was.

-Vega: What’s something you’ve done that you wish you hadn’t? At the moment I can’t think of any Profound Regrets, but I do wish I were less shy and spoke my mind more often than I do.

-Centaurus: Favorite holiday? Halloween!

-Orion: Favorite month? Honestly, every month past August is Party Time; I particularly love October

-Cassiopeia? Favorite book? Hoo boy ok. I love all the Harry Potter books and most everything Rick Riordan writes but apart from that (which goes on my Pedestal of Incredible); The Song of Achilles broke my heart but it was gorgeous and I’m in love; also, Rainbow Rowell’s novels sweep my soul away and they too are lovely.

-Delphinus: Favorite study? I love space and the stars + Greek/Roman/Egyptian/Norse/etc myths captivate my soul and I’m infatuated with them

-Hercules: Favorite instrument? Hoooo bOy, ok: the drums are incredible and I love the rhythm and beat they provide, b u t, the violin is incredibly gorgeous and elegant, the piano is hypnotizing, and basically those are my faves.

-Gemini: Favorite song? Idk?? Honestly, it changes depending on what I’m listening to, but as of now I love Dear Theodosia

-Pegasus: Favorite place to be? I love the space on top of my roof + the warm happy feeling of wherever I am w a friend

-Libra: Favorite color? All colors are beautiful but as of late I love green and mint green and every shade of green; I’m also in love with the infinite blue of the sky

-Phoenix: Favorite thing to wear? Jeans, sweater, socks (if shoes are required, then sneakers)

-Aries: Favorite movie? I don’t really have one because every movie I watch that I like I go “tHIS IS MY FAVE!!” but Captain America; Civil War broke my heart and I loved it, accompanied with Rogue One so I’m going with that

-Cyngus: Favorite weather? I like it when it’s really cold and windy, and light rain with no thunder or lightning is good. I also like cloudy and sunny, or just bright and sunny but not too hot; raining while the sun is shining is perfect

-Hydra: Favorite sound? Friend’s laughter is gorgeous, really pretty music, rain

-Milky Way: Who’s your oldest friend? My (unbiological but still) sister of 9 years

-Andromeda: Do you consider yourself social? Hell no, but with certain people I’ll chat your ear off and they’re the ones who matter

-Black Eye Galaxy: Do you believe in love at first sight? I mean...no? It takes me to get to know someone first and be friends before I develop any sort of remotely romantic feeling, so at least not for me

-Cartwheel Galaxy: When was your first kiss? I’ll get back to you when it happens ;D

-Cigar Galaxy: How’s your flirting skills? I’ve recently discovered that I actually do flirt without realizing, but through texting, so I suppose I’m rather decent,,(?) In a verbal conversation, however, absolute rubbish I guarantee it (not that I’ve tried)

-Comet Galaxy: Have you ever had to leave a relationship because someone changed too much? I’ll get back to you once i’m in or have been in a relationship ;D

-Pinwheel Galaxy: Would you date the last person you talked to? Absolutely

-Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now? ;D

-Bode’s Galaxy: Have you ever had a secret admirer? Not that I know of

-Sunflower Galaxy: Would you date/make friends with someone out of pity? Fuck no

-Tadpole Galaxy: Would you deny a relationship/friendship? Does this mean turn someone down? Yes?

-Whirlpool Galaxy: Have you ever cried over a breakup? Yes, but not one of romantic kind

-Comet: What’s your big dream? I have several, however unrealistic they may be. I want to grow up to be happy, to be in a committed, healthy, and loving relationship with another person, and for them to be happy too. I want to write a book, or books, that inspire people and mean something to them, something they love and cherish with characters they’ll fall in love with, something that will make them love reading and do what many authors have done for me. I also wanna make a change in the world, somehow do something profound that’ll make life better for people in need. Lastly, and perhaps the most far-fetched of all, I wanna explore space? Not just our solar system or Mars, but full-on Star Trek explore; I want to be alive when/if portals are made to explore deep space and learn more about what’s out there and contact alien life.

-Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t? I wish I could tell my family, more importantly my immediate family, that I’m gay

-Nebula: if you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be? My birth idk

-Shooting Star: If you could bring back one thing what would it be? Um idk, my motivation to do things? Happiness?

-Pulsar: What do you hope to do in the next 10 years? Experience things and learn more things about myself and who I am, go through my Angsty Teen Discovery moment, and just enjoy life. Vote, drive, fall in love, get into college, graduate highschool.

-Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die? See the world/explore space

-Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be? nOPE

-Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? Portals are invented and my Space Princess and I become astronauts and explore space!

-Black Hole: What’s the last thing you want to see? Everyone safe and happy, no hate, everyone living harmoniously regardless or race, religion, gender or lack thereof, or sexuality

#hoo boy i wrote a lot #some of these #i feel were too Angsty #we get it hoe #Tragic Backstory #a lot of them were space!#kick ass go to space #represent the human race #i hope youre satisfied wifey #for you <3 #alec tag

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