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unknownati · 21 hours ago

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iii. her new friend.

a/n: im alive i wrote this months ago and i HAAATE it but i wanna post something so maybe ill get back into writing🤷🏾‍♀️ i lowkey cringe reading it 😭 may delete later!

warnings/tags: loosely (very loosely) inspired by the beginning of green eyes by erykah badu, jealousy, no reader description, communication, not good communication but it's still there, disagreement/argument(kinda), ends fluffy (and a LIIIIITTLE SUGGESTIVE A LITTLE), reader stands on big bidness until the end, lowercase intended, BARELY PROOFREAD AS ALWAYS 🔥🔥, self indulgent tbh, also suck at endings just shhh 😊

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you hated her.

well, not her. you hated how abby acted around her.

she was new; just recently started to stay at the wlf stadium.

and she was so pretty, you didn't know about 'prettier than you', but she was really pretty. her skin was glassy, her eyes lashes were so naturally long, her hair looked so nice in any style, everything.

it's not that you didn't have what she did or hated her just for existing. you were sure she was super sweet, talented, all of it. in fact, when you first met her you thought she was fantastic. but something about her being paired with abby made your eye twitch.

but abby seemed so much more...lively around her.

at first, you wondered if it was just you. maybe you were overreacting? you tried to brush it off until you heard somebody passing by call them a cute couple. abby didn't say anything either, just laughed.

you did try to bring it up too. of course not your exact thought, you tried to be nice about it since you assumed she didn't realize what she'd been doing.

"abby, i feel like you've been hanging out with your friend a lot more than you've been with me. not that you can't be with your friend, but y'know...'m here too."

and she chuckled, kissed your cheek, and just whispered a cute little "okay, 'm sorry," in your ear.

after that, she kept up with you for about a week. and then she went right back to her new little friend.

no biggie, at this point you were fed up. you tried a couple times to bring it up again, each time getting more honest and honest just to be met with a similar response.

you didn't care anymore. if she wants to hang out with her, so be it.

"'morning," she leaned over the couch and kissed your cheek, admiring your pretty face. "me and jade are gonna go play with the dogs."

nothing new, but every time you heard her name you felt you were going to explode. "mhm,"

you felt abby still lingering over your shoulder, waiting for another response. usually you'd tell her to 'have fun', 'be safe' if it was patrol duty.

"..you okay?" she leaned further down to be within your line of vision, her hands gripping the back of the couch. when you just nodded she paused, wondering if she should even say anything. she was so confused, why were you upset?

she walked around the side to sit next to you, too close. the contact made you huff, scoot away. she scoffed in disbelief. "what's wrong?"

you forced a smile onto your face and turned to face her, shaking your head. "nothing? go ahead, be with your friend," you waved your hand, turning back to the window. abby's eyebrows twitched. you looked back, eyeing her up and down. "..what?"

"why'd you word it like that?" she asked, her eyes darting to the side and then back onto your face.

"like what? what'd you want me to say?"

"i don't know...it's just--i just feel like you're mad at me." she did that dumb thing with her eyes, slightly tilting her head and looking at you like a sad dog. you knew it was never on purpose, and somehow that made it worse. she had that nervous smile on her face too.

"wonder why? 't's not like i haven't tried bringing it up for the past few weeks."

"what?" her face contorted into one of confusion.

"what?" you raised your brows.

"can you just talk to me?"

"clearly i've tried."

"then talk to me again...please."

you took a deep breath, feeling like a broken record.

"it doesn't even matter at this point. i told you, time after time, i feel like you're with jade more than you're with me. it literally didn't feel like you wanted me, i didn't feel like i was good enough for you. it's like at this point, if you want her, just have her. it's not like you two aren't already practically dating. you didn't listen, but it's fine, i don't care anymore, i'm over it, literally just go."

abby felt like she just got hit with a brick.

"do you think i want her? like, want to date her?" abby watched you groan, stand up and stretch your back, completely ready to just walk away from the conversation. you weren't about to be accused of being jealous on this fine thursday morning. "☆, seriously. is that what you think? i wouldn't replace you for anything, i'm sorry, i didn't--"

"ooooh my god. just go, dude. it's fine."

"it's not fine, though. and did you just call me dude?"

you huffed, about to blow up at her when you felt her grab the hem of your pants to pull you back towards her. "i'm sorry, okay? i mean it. i love you, not her, i didn't realize how much it was upsetting you. i'll stop."

your throat burned, brows furrowed. you almost stopped her when she pulled you into her lap, almost. the warmth of her arms wrapped around you was what made you stop. "i told you multiple times. why didn't you listen?"

"i don't know. i thought i was hanging out with her less."

before you could even start, you felt her littering your face and neck with kisses, her arms squeezing you tighter. it was so annoying to not be able to stay mad at her no matter how hard you tried, and you rolled your eyes. you reached up and pulled her in for a kiss, a proper one, one that you deserved.

"let me make it up to you, please?" she asked, one of her hands dropping to reach up your shirt and gently rub circles into your side.

"what about jade?"

"she can wait."

#abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson wlw #abby anderson x reader #the last of us abby #wlw #tlou #lesbian #tlou2 #tlou2 fanfic #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby the last of us #tlou part 2 #tlou fic

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xmads-omensx · 3 days ago

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Take Me To The Lakes

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,833

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of burnout, England idk, a little sad in places (but not loads), kissing

Summary: Y/N takes Noah away to relax away from work and California.

I woke up this morning with a burning desire to go back to the Lake District, so here. (this is very self-indulgent so sorry in advance lol)

Noah had been distant lately. It wasn’t like we had a fight, or weren’t getting along. He was just distant. He spent more and more time in the studio, at the gym, or out for runs. I barely saw him. He would just crawl into our bed hours after I had gone to bed and pull me into his chest, and would be gone by the time I woke up.

This had been going on for about two weeks when he pulled me into our bedroom and sat me beside him on the bed.

He had sighed and told me that the band were cancelling the upcoming European tour due to their collective exhaustion and burn out. Part of me was glad that they were taking time off. They all needed it. For the last two years they had been touring practically non-stop.

I held him and made sure he knew that he was going to be okay, and that he deserved a break after all the hard work he had done.

However, despite his promise to take time for himself and time to relax, he still snuck away into the studio. I had to do something or I would never get him to leave.

I took some time to think about where I felt the most at peace. What it was that helped me to escape.

Then it hit me.

Noah needed to physically escape. There was no way that he would be able to settle or find any sense of calm when he was still in his working headspace here in California. There was too much noise, too much happening, too much temptation to work.

He needed to get away from here.

Thinking back on what helped me, I remembered feeling most at peace being within nature, isolated from the bustling cities. Noah was much the same, which was one of the reasons we hit it off so well on our first date.

There was one place that always helped me to escape: The Lake District.

We used to go there often when I was younger, and it had always felt like it was in it’s own place, separated from the rest of the world. The lakes and tarns, the rivers, the towns, the trees, the breeze, everything about this place felt separated. Like it was inside of a bubble, protected from the outside world. It was safe. Secure. Hidden.

This was exactly what Noah needed.

I didn’t say anything to him so it would be a surprise, and went ahead and booked two weeks away for the two of us to escape. I spoke to the guys about it and they all said it was a great idea.

“Hey, why don’t you book another week?” Matt suggested.

“Another week? Why?” I replied.

“He needs a break, plus I have a plan.” He smirked at me, before explaining his plot to me in a low whisper. It was brilliant.

Later that week, I began packing two suitcases for myself and Noah, bringing a third for extra clothes as we would need to get Noah some proper hiking boots when we got there, so would need the extra space.

“What’s all this?” Noah asked tiredly, coming into our room to see me sat on the floor, surrounded by piles of folded clothes and bagged toiletries.

“Stuff.” I replied with a sly smirk.

“Stuff? For what?” He asked with a slight laugh.

“A trip.” I said with an innocent look on my face.

“Oh yeah?” He sat down behind me, wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling me into his chest. “What trip?”

“I’m kidnapping you and taking you away for three weeks.” I said, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

He sighed, “Babe, I have work, I can’t just take a trip.”

“I already talked to the guys about it and they said it was fine.” I quietly replied, feeling ever so slightly defeated.

“Really?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah. I booked two weeks and Matt suggested I add another week on.” I said.

“Where are we going then?” Noah asked after a pause.

“Not telling.” I replied.

“Really?” He laughed, “You’re not telling me?”

“Nope.” I said, popping the p.

Noah laughed and pulled me closer into his chest, burying his head into the crook of my neck.

“Need help packing bub?” He murmured.

“No, it’s okay, I’m almost done.” I laughed.

Noah leant back against the bed and watched as I neatly laid out clothes into the suitcases. After watching and helping Noah pack for tour, I had become much more efficient at packing for longer periods of time whilst still keeping space for more things to go in.

That night Noah pestered me asking about where I was taking him like a little kid asking if we were nearly there yet. Each time, I laughed and told him he would find out when we arrived at our destination, and that he had to trust me and I promised that he would like it.

The next week had been a similar story, of Noah trying to ask me questions so that he could guess where I was taking him, but he was getting absolutely nothing from me, and it was driving him crazy. But at least it meant he wasn’t overworking himself.

The drive to the airport was the same. So was the flight. I even had to pretend to be asleep in order to get him to stop. It was nice to see him excited about something other than Bad Omens.

The next part of our journey was a little bit more stressful. We had a very small transfer window to get through the airport and onto the train that would depart from King’s Cross in about two hours. Noah, however, did not possess the same sense of urgency seeing as he hadn’t been to London unless it was for tour, so wanted to have a little look around. That look of wonder in his eyes almost made me slow down as we hurried out of the airport, but I couldn’t slow down. Besides, when we reached our destination he would be significantly more excited and intrigued as he had never been there before. Not even for tour.

I hailed a taxi and we began our journey through London to King’s Cross station. Noah simply resumed his questioning. The taxi driver, thankfully, noticed that Noah was American so began to ask him questions about what life was like on his side of the pond. He seemed particularly intrigued by the significant lack of roundabouts in the US, while Noah was surprised by the amount of roundabouts in London alone.

After arriving at King’s Cross, we ran for our train then boarded with no issues at all. This leg was quieter as we were both becoming increasingly tired and Noah took in the views of England that he hadn’t seen before. The cities became countryside, before becoming cities again, then going back to countryside until we eventually arrived at Keswick train station.

Noah had fallen asleep, with his head resting gently against the glass.

“Noah.” I whispered, squeezing his arm.

His eyes fluttered open and he gave me a tired smile.

“We’re here.” I whispered.

He nodded, unplugging his phone and grabbing his airpods case before standing up to grab our hand luggage out of the overhead compartment. He placed his hand on my shoulder as I led him out of the train, grabbing or suitcases on the way out.

Luckily, I had arranged for a rental car, so Noah would be able to get a bit more rest before we got to where we were staying.

I had always loved Keswick. When I was a kid I wanted to live here. It was the perfect mix of quiet and peaceful, with the busyness of tourists hurrying around the town centre. Plus, the fish and chips here were absolutely delicious.

I had book an Airbnb for the next three weeks, closer to Derwentwater itself. Sure, Windemere would have been preferable, but I needed Noah to understand my version of peace and escape.

There was a beautiful cottage nestled beside Friar’s Crag. It was more or less next to the water, with a nice pub and café nearby. We had stayed there a few times when I was younger, but usually aimed to stay more in the town itself so it would be more convenient.

The car ride itself was short. Noah gazed out the window the entire time, wonder filling his eyes. The views were, admittedly, spectacular. I didn’t blame him for his awe-struck expression as I found myself making that same face every single time I came here.

My plan was working.

We arrived at the cottage and unloaded our suitcases, bringing them up to the master bedroom. It was a four bed cottage, so was big just for two people, but I wanted Noah to have the best experience possible, and we needed the space for Matt’s part of the plan to work.

“So…” I began. Noah looked up from his unpacking. “What do you think so far?”

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen somewhere like it.” He said, with a slight laugh. “Honestly, I’m glad you did this.”

“Our trip hasn’t even started yet.” I laughed. Noah stood up and walked towards me, putting his hands on my waist.

“Okay then. What’s first on the itinerary then boss?” Noah smiled.

“We need to get you some proper boots.” I said firmly, smiling at him.

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” He laughed, glancing at the trainers sat by the front door.

“Well, you can’t hike in those things.” I replied, shaking my head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the front door.

We drove back into Keswick town centre with one specific goal in mind. Boots.

Noah looked insanely out of place in Cotswolds. He was the only person covered in tattoos, but most notably, the only one wearing joggers, a hoodie and trainers. The rest of the customers, myself included, were clad in hiking trousers and rain coats.

We walked straight to the back of the store, Noah followed behind me like a lost puppy. I knew exactly which ones he would need, I just needed him to try them on. He was hesitant at first, having never had tried on proper walking boots before, but I managed to persuade him to try them on. And they were perfect.

I also kitted him out with hiking trousers and a waterproof jacket, something that he would never need in California, but were a necessity here.

When we got back to the car, I made him climb into the backseat and change into his new trousers as I was taking him on his first walk. Sure, we hadn’t spent one day here yet, but he needed to wear in his boots.

We drove the roughly forty minutes to Tarn Hows listening to a mix of Hozier and other acoustic songs that put me at a sense of calm.

By the time we got there, the rain had already started, but that was not going to stop me from doing this walk. It had been one of my favourites since I was young, and I knew Noah would enjoy it. The route was flat, with amazing views of the mountains and the tarn itself.

“Are we seriously doing this?” Noah asked as we got out of the car.

“Yep.” I cheerily replied, zipping up my waterproof, pulling my hood up and shrugging on the backpack that was filled with water, snacks and sandwiches for later.

I grabbed Noah’s hand in mine and began the walk towards the gate.

Rain pattered off of our hoods and formed muddy puddles on the dirt path, covering Noah’s brand new boots which he was not a fan of as he was hell-bent on keeping them clean. I assured him that it would be virtually impossible to do that here. His reasoning was that he felt bad getting them dirty as I bought them for him. I assured him that it was fine but I don’t think he really acknowledged it.

Our walk was filled with light conversation about animes we had watched recently, mild drama within my friendship circle, new bands we had discovered and comfortable silence as we listened to the rain on the leaves and against the water.

The walk was over before I knew if and we hurried into the car to hide from the rain and eat our sandwiches. I had made myself a cheese and onion sandwich with salted crisps, and I made Noah a chicken, bacon and ranch sandwich. I had bever made one before, but if he didn’t like it, he didn’t let onto it.

Noah ran from the car to the bin as quick as he could, but ended up tripping on a tree root and falling headfirst into a puddle. I couldn’t hold back my laughter as he pushed himself back to his feet and kept jogging back to the car as if it had never happened.

Mud dripped down his face and the front of his jacket. His knees were coated in mud and his boots were soaked.

He dropped onto the passenger seat with a sigh before turning to me. “If you tell anyone what you just saw, I will never forgive you.” He pointed his finger at me accusingly at me to emphasise his point. I swatted his hand away and we both burst out laughing. It was really nice seeing him laugh again. Properly laugh. Like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I drove us back to the cottage, where Noah immediately jumped into the shower as I finished unpacking our belongings.

“So, what’s the plan for dinner?” Noah asked as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I was thinking fish and chips.” I replied with a smile, placing the last of my socks in the drawer, before lifting up the suitcase to place it on top of the wardrobe. Noah took it from my hands and put it away for me with ease.

“I mean, you’re the one who knows what’s good, so I’m putting my fate in your hands.” I laughed and swatted his chest as he walked towards the bed, sitting on the edge of it, watching me gather my things to put in my handbag.

“I’ll go now then and get it. Why don’t you get dressed and find us something to watch?” I suggested.

“That sounds perfect.” Noah pulled me to stand between his thighs before planting a deep kiss on my lips. He let me go and dropped back with a huff, lying on the bed.

“You’re so dramatic.” I laughed as I walked back towards the door.

“It’s literally my job to be dramatic.” He retorted, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.” I giggled as I left the room.

Once I had acquired our meal, I headed back to the cottage. We spent the evening watching Twilight as the Airbnb only had DVD and for some reason only had that or some nature documentaries, which neither of us were too interested in that particular evening, before heading up to bed and falling to sleep more or less instantly.

The next few days were filled with exploring Keswick and hiking, before venturing to other towns like Ambleside. Noah seemed to really be enjoying his time here. He had put his phone on Do Not Disturb, whilst I kept mine on to keep in touch with Matt in regards to his plan.

The hiking was definitely something that Noah was excelling at. His time spent running and at the gym was becoming obvious the more we walked. He had even started venturing ahead of me as the first week became the second week.

Noah was very clearly doing better. He hadn’t been talking about work at all whilst we had been here. The dark circles under his eyes had lightened ever so slightly and he had been laughing, properly laughing like he had in that car, more often. His laugh was my favourite sound so it made me even happier.

He had even treated himself to a second waterproof jacket and another pair of hiking trousers. And I was definitely not mad about it, because he looked great in those trousers.

Our second week was coming to an end, and Noah sill had no idea about Matt’s plan, which was perfect. The evening was drawing to a close as Noah and I headed up to bed. I patiently waited for him to fall asleep before pulling my phone out and texting Matt to get a rough estimate of what time he would arrive at the cottage. They had just gotten on the train at King’s Cross, so I still had a good three or so hours to get a little bit of sleep before they arrived.

I set an alarm and cuddled back into Noah’s chest. I fell asleep quickly.

When my alarm went off three hours later, I hurriedly turned it off before looking back over my shoulder to see if I had woken Noah up. Luckily, he was a relatively heavy sleeper so he wasn’t awoken by the sudden noise.

I tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room, pressing call on Matt’s contact.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greeted, sounding very tired. It was about 2:30am, so that made sense.

“Hey, Matt. How was the flight?” I asked.

“It wasn’t too bad. I’ve been on worse flights.” He laughed.

“And the train?” I asked.

“Was actually early, so we are almost at the cottage.” Matt said with a yawn.

“Really?” I replied.

“Yeah. We are like two minutes out according to this GPS.” He said.

“Great. I’ll let you guys in and you’re more than welcome to go to straight to sleep if that’s what you want.” I yawned.

“That sounds great, actually.” He replied with a laugh.

“See you guys soon, then.” I smiled into the phone.

“See you soon.” He said, before hanging up.

I sat on the windowsill of the window that looked onto the driveway for about two minutes, just like Matt said on the phone, before a large, black car pulled up and seven men poured out of it, and started taking bags out of the boot.

I unlocked the front door as quietly as I could and greeted them all with a hug before telling them where the spare bedrooms were. They all moved slowly, like their limbs were weighted down with lead.

We all whispered our goodnights before I snuck back into bed beside Noah, who instantly reached out and pulled me closer to his chest. His soft snores lulled me back into a deep sleep.

I awoke to birds chirping outside, and a cold bed. Weird. Noah must have been up for quite some time. I could hear laughter from downstairs. I started to piece together where Noah was and headed downstairs to see everyone.

I was greeted by eight grown men all overlapping eachother on the sofas in the living room, watching some David Attenborough documentary about penguins. It was a wholesome sight. Matt, Nick, Folio and Bryan were piled up on one sofa, with Noah, Jesse, Jolly and Michael piled up on the other. I couldn’t resist taking my phone out and snapping a few photos of the chaos that was unfolding.

They didn’t seem to be bothering eachother, but were all comfortably sat practically on top of eachother. However Folio was actually sat on top of Matt’s lap very comfortably.

Jolly turned his head round to look at the doorway I had just entered through and waved at me, shouting “Morning, Y/N.” Causing the rest of the guys to turn to face me and copy his actions.

Noah turned and smiled, offering a, “Morning, baby.” Instead, causing the rest of the guys to make kissy noises at him. I simply laughed, sliding onto his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.

He whispered facts about the penguins that I had missed into my ear as my focus was drawn to the television in front of us.

We all sat in a blissful silence for the rest of the documentary before getting ready for the hike that I had promised them.

We piled into the two cars once we were all ready and head off for Cat Bells. It wasn’t an easy hike by any means, but was a good one for beginners. My plan was to take them on one with a fantastic view first, so that then they would be hooked and would want to go on more.

We began our walk up the trail, Noah and I falling to the back of the group, knowing to pace ourselves as I had taught everything I knew about hiking in The Lake District.

The rest of the guys tired out very quickly, allowing for Noah and I to take the lead and reach the top first.

We stood and admired the view, before Noah began to speak.

“How come the guys are here?” He asked.

“It was Matt’s suggestion, I just implemented it.” I began. “He said that a holiday wasn’t a bad idea, so I extended our trip and arranged for the others to have a week here as well.”

Noah smiled at me, but didn’t say anything.

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

“The most fun.” He replied with a content sigh.

It was bittersweet. Our trip was ending, meaning we had to go back to California. I considered it a second home, so I was looking forward to getting my routine back, but I also loved it here. Noah could see it all over my face.

“I’d like to retire here I think?” He said, turning back to face the view.

“Really?” I asked, taken aback slightly by his admission.

“Yeah. When we’re older, married, with some kids. Obviously we would have some dogs too.” He went on, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“That sounds nice.” I said with a smile, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He said quietly after a moment of silence.

“For what?” I asked, looking back up at me.

“Taking me here. Away from everything else.” He explained. “You showed me your safe place, and I’m very grateful for that.”

“You needed a break, obviously I wanted to help.” I replied.

“You are amazing.” He said before kissing the top of my head.

I laughed at him. He laughed back. I loved his laugh. It bounced off of the surrounding mountains and fells, glided over the tarns and lakes and echoed in the caves. It consumed me.

No. He consumed me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

#madsy says shit sometimes ig?#noah sebastian #bad omens #fanfic #noah sebastian fic #one shot #noah sebastian one shots

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investmentassistant · 1 day ago

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How to plan the perfect solo night in

Sometimes, the best company for the evening is yourself. Planning a night in alone can be a perfect way to recharge, unwind, and spend quality time doing exactly what you love. Here’s a guide to making sure your solo night is exactly what you need—relaxing, enjoyable, and memorable.

Set the scene

Creating the right atmosphere can make all the difference. First, think about how you want the space to feel. Do you want a cozy setup with dim lights, soft blankets, and a warm drink? Or maybe something lively with upbeat music and bright lighting?

Choose a spot where you feel comfortable and add some personal touches. Light a few scented candles, arrange some pillows, or play your favorite playlist softly in the background. Making your space feel welcoming will help set the tone for a truly enjoyable night.

Treat yourself to your favorite food

No solo night is complete without a bit of indulgence, so treat yourself to your favorite food. You could either go the homemade route and cook yourself a special meal, or simply order from your favorite restaurant. If you’re in the mood to cook, consider trying out a new recipe or making a comfort food that you rarely take the time to prepare.

For those who love a little variety, consider preparing a few different snacks or a small charcuterie board. Here are a few snack ideas to inspire you:

Fresh popcorn with different seasonings

A charcuterie board with cheese, fruits, and nuts

Mini sliders or sliders of your favorite type

Dark chocolate or a mix of sweet treats

Take a moment to savor the food you’ve prepared or ordered. Eating slowly and mindfully can add to the relaxation and enjoyment of your evening.

Choose the perfect entertainment

When it comes to entertainment, choose something that feels right for the night. If you’re in the mood for a film, consider revisiting an old favorite or trying a movie from a genre you don’t usually watch. Some nights call for classic comedies, while others might feel more suited to a drama or a mystery.

Alternatively, if you’d rather read, pick up a book that you’ve been meaning to dive into. For those who love a mix of options, start with a movie and then transition into reading—it’s your night, so feel free to experiment with different activities.

If you’re interested in a more active approach, you could try:

Listening to a podcast

Doing a short creative project like sketching or journaling

Practicing a bit of meditation or stretching

A night spent doing something out of the ordinary can add a bit of excitement to your evening, even if it’s something simple.

Unplug for a truly relaxing experience

It can be tempting to scroll through social media or check messages during your solo night in, but consider putting your phone away for a while. Disconnecting from screens can help you feel more present and connected to yourself.

If you want to document the night, take a few photos or jot down a few thoughts, but try to avoid distractions. Many people find that turning off their phone entirely or setting it on airplane mode helps them fully unwind. Allowing yourself this “offline” time can make your night feel more like a mini-retreat.

Indulge in self-care

One of the best parts of a solo night in is that you can completely focus on yourself. This is a great time to pamper yourself with a bit of self-care. You could take a long bath, use that face mask you’ve been saving, or try out some meditation or breathing exercises.

Self-care doesn’t have to be elaborate—it’s about doing what makes you feel good. You could do a quick workout, write down a few positive affirmations, or simply enjoy some silence. Taking this time for yourself, even if it’s just a few minutes, can feel incredibly refreshing.

Reflect and unwind

As your solo night winds down, take a few moments to reflect. Think about what you enjoyed, what helped you relax, and any thoughts or ideas that came up during the evening. Sometimes, spending time alone can spark new inspiration or give you a fresh perspective.

Whether it’s by writing in a journal, taking a few deep breaths, or simply enjoying the quiet, let yourself feel the benefits of your solo time. Ending the night on a calm, positive note can help you feel recharged and ready for whatever’s next.

#relaxation

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i-am-the-oyster · 3 days ago

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ALBUMS

Where's The Beef?

According to the man himself, Paul can bash out a song in the time it takes Linda to whip up a soyasome supper. But is this necessarily a good thing?

By Chris Ingham. Illustration by Richard Camps.

Paul McCartney

Flaming Pie PARLOPHONE

McCartney sans band again. Self-penned, played and produced, apart from contributions by Jeff Lynne, Ringo Starr, Steve Miller and son James McCartney.

I'VE STOPPED TRYING TO JUSTIFY LOVING solo McCartney. Of course some of the work of the last 27 years has been slack and misjudged. Yes, his trust in stream-of-consciousness and the inspiration of the moment ("If you're working too hard on something, it probably means its not very good") has left a catalogue with at least as much eccentric, cavalier material as substantial. But if you respond to someone, you respond. A lot of minor McCartney means as much to me as the major. The aloof will sigh; we expect more from a pop giant.

But there is more - the gargantuan Liverpool Oratorio has its moments, his minimalist-impressionist chamber piano piece A Leaf is a charmer, the forthcoming Standing Stones symphony is an intriguing prospect - it's just that these days, pop is only part of what he does. In pop, he's changed the world already, he's had his purple patch, and he hasn't had another genius to run his new songs by for quite a while; that can do things to a man's quality control.

However, though less spectacularly ambitious than the serious work, there is much to be enjoyed here. The indisputable melodic flair, the uplifting, doe-eyed optimism, the daft rockers, all here on Flaming Pie, an album in the McCartney tradition of pretty good, nudging upper middle. If you're hip to him, that's all you'll need.

Though not reaching the coherent, miraculous heights of Band On The Run (1973), it's miles better than the interminable live albums or his last, the heart-sinkingly ordinary Off The Ground ('93). Better, too, than the aberration of Give My Regards To Broad Street ('84) and the not-as-bad-as-you've-heard Press To Play ('86). So, it's probably on a par with Flowers In The Dirt ('89) which, though lauded at the time as a major return to form (prompted, no doubt, by the red herrings that were the awkward McCartney-McManus collaborations), now seems no better/no worse than the slick, unfailingly tunesome Tug Of War ('82) or Pipes Of Peace ('83).

What noses Flaming Pie ahead of the pack, however, is a return to the engaging home-made quality of his earliest solo work. Back in do-it-your-self, down-home primitive miniaturist mode, back on deep-groove drums and bluesy guitar, there are echoes of McCartney (1970) and Ram (1971) here, and it all has an authentic ring of auteur about it. It's not that Beatley, but it's very McCartney.

Some of it is positively reckless, there's a determination to follow the mood, have a laugh, see what happens. Three songs here are little more than jams. Flaming Pie was a self-imposed challenge to finish a track with Jeff Lynne in four hours (like you do). Funny, surreal lyrics, a cracking 3 Legs-type vocal, a thunderous Why Don't We Do It In The Road/Don't Bring Me Down groove and some hilarious, cack-handed barrel-house piano; this is the track I'm playing visitors.

Ringo and Paul lock into a super-taut, muscled riff on Really Love You and McCartney makes up the song as he goes (like Mumbo from Wild Life but with words); mad, indulgent, but kind of happening. Only the duet with Steve Miller on a slinky Texas 12-bar palls. Two minutes of this good-vibe, one-take blues would have been a treat, four minutes feels like eight.

Interspersing this japery is good and OK Macca fare made better, perhaps, by co-producer Jeff Lynne's ear for detail on over half the tracks. There are no obvious ELO/Wilbury mannerisms and, oddly, the ones that sound most like Lynne don't involve him (both the strangely sinister If You Wanna and lightweight, damnably catchy Young Boy - the one he completed in a couple of hours while Linda was tinkering in the kitchen - feature orchestras of acoustic guitars), though the dry-as-a-bone sound and upfront vocals elsewhere betray Lynne's welcome presence.

Track Listing

The Song We Were Singing

The World Tonight

Somedays

If You Wanna

Young Boy

Calico Skies Flaming Pie

Heaven On A Sunday

Used To Be Bad Souvenir

Little Willo w

Really Love You Beautiful Night

Great Day

The Song We Were Singing is a vivid evocation of an evening with friends in the '60s; the sweet, hazy vocal, the trippy twang of the guitar, the struggle to make "...discuss the vast intricacies of life" scan, the soaring, singalong chorus all combine to give the track an enchanting, stoned elegance. Heaven On A Sunday is prime, dreamy Macca with gorgeously textured sound. It also features his son's debut as Dad trades his Oo You guitar licks with 20-year-old James McCartney's Dave Gilmour ones. Souvenir is an oddball beauty; a soulful, lazy thing with a surprise guitar-riff-from-hell and a psychedelic fade. This is all very encouraging, Lynne appears to have helped McCartney sound more like himself, somehow. To be continued, hopefully.

There are three finger-pickin' solo numbers. Calico Skies is an earnest little love song which develops into an anti-war prayer. Somedays is a portentous song of doubt, always threatening to mean something, beautifully decorated by George Martin's arrangement. Great Day manages to allude metrically to the Vincent Youmans's 1930 standard of the same title and melodically to McCartney's own Big Barn Bed in a sweet, throwaway piece of unfeasible optimism. They ain't Blackbird, but they're fine.

It must be noted that the man's singing is a marvel. The grey-around-the-edges folk-balladeering of Calico Skies, the falsetto blues-croon of Heaven On A Sunday, the deliriously uninhibited rock-shriek of Really Love You re-confirm that McCartney's vocal-style range is without equal in pop. Sinatra's pipes had virtually cracked at 55. What is this guy on?

"No sleepless nights over this one," he told Steve Miller. What with the serious stuff people keep asking him to write, who can blame him? Making this will have been a holiday by comparison.

The World's Greatest Living Melodist crown must lay heavy; here McCartney is sporting his Eccentric Primitive Miniaturist colours. Flaming Pie is a fine reminder of how much they suit him.

Paul McCartney talks to Chris Ingham live from his car somewhere in the great British countryside.

Flaming Pie. Pleased with it?

Yeah, like it a lot actually. It's always good when you're proud of what you've done, because when you're not you're always moaning at the record company about how they don't put posters up, or how they don t get plays and all that. But I sort of don't care. Even if radio doesn't take to it, posters don't get put up and people don't say the right things, I've got a feeling that because I like it, I don't give a shit. I'm not sure that's 100 per cent true but the feeling's there. It feels good. I'm comfortable; there's a lot to be said for that.

Don't you feel like this after each new record?

No, not really. You always enjoy like having a new baby, as it were, but this one feels a bit special. It's like Anthology, people would ask, "Are you worried? Should you have done it? Is it right to do Free As A Bird?" I would say to them, listen, once The Beatles and George Martin have signed off on it, I always get a great feeling that it doesn't really matter what anyone thinks, we're a sufficiently cool enough gang of dudes, it's a question of sod the rest of them. I always used to get that feeling on Beatles albums; hey, it's The Beatles, we all like it, that's a pretty strong opinion.

It's not as easy to get that on my solo records because it's mainly me. I don't have the strength of the Woolwich around me. But on this one, there wasn't much pressure because the record people said, "We don't actually need a record from you for a while, so l started making music just for my own fun.

I think I've given the Anthology a decent interval, my stuff is suddenly ready, asked Linda if she had any photos, she had a great little selection, banged it together and it all suddenly seemed to work and it was, "Oh, there you go.

And I've told the marketing guys, "I don't want any sweat on this record, I don't care if you don't come up with a good idea, we're just gonna have a laugh." It's funny, they don't know where you're coming from, they re so used to that 'gotta get it right, get the right image desperation. Whereas I'm saying it'd be nice, but it's only a record. It really does cool things down.

One big thing with The Beatles, once in the early days we broke down on the motorway going back up to Liverpool in the severe winter, somewhere. One of us said, "Oh, what are we going to do now?" and another said, "Well, something'll happen." And it sounded so naive, we all laughed, "Yeah, something'll happen." Immediately a lorry came up and said, "Wanna lift, lads?" We all piled in. I'm a great believer in that "something'll happen" syndrome. It's like if you allow that space, that bit of peace in your mind, something sort of comes in to fill it. It's all very metaphysical.

You've said, "Songwriting's like the thumb in the mouth." It's interesting that through a worrying time with Linda being ill, you've made an upbeat kind of record. Is there a connection?

Yes, I think there is. When you have a major problem like that, it focuses what's important. I know everyone says that but it really does. For me, my family comes first, and a close second is music and working. I think it stopped me pissing around. I might have made a record and thought, Oh that's OK. But with that and having just done Anthology I thought, No I'm gonna make sure I'm happy with every song on this album. I don't want to waste time. I think that's the main force. If you're just breezing along you can think, Aah I've got forever, it's all great - you can find yourself wasting time. And also having looked at The Beatles albums and running your finger down the tracklist and it's Nowhere Man, Here There And Everywhere, Taxman, bang, bang, bang, every single one is a song you remember. I thought, I'm gonna make an album like that. I sorted a lot of songs and didn't bother with things I was in doubt about. So the whole episode focused me up quite a bit.

You've admitted in the past to feeling daunted by the Beatles' achievements, yet all this full-on Beatlosity of the past 18 months or so seems to have spurred you on.

Yeah well, the sort of plan was to take a holiday. But I'd just be sitting around with my acoustic, writing a song in a power cut in America, played it to a few people and it's "Ooh yeah, that's a good 'un." So I started stockpiling a few with nothing in mind, stuck 'em on a cassette and called them New Songs. Suddenly I had a lot of them. Called Steve Miller, who I'd known and played with once in the '60s after a Beatle session which was aborted because of, ahem, business differences. God, I've just come across a big field full of sheep here. Amazing. But I digress... I'd say to Steve, "look we don't need to get into heavy breathing, let's just knock it off", the way we did that track of his, My Dark Hour. He'd invited me up to his studio in Sun Valley, Idaho, did a track. Returned the hospitality, knocked off a couple more.

You're working with Jeff Lynne again. He'd passed the Free As A Bird test then?

Yeah, that was the audition (laughs). He was sort of George's boyfriend, if you know what I mean, and, you know, you don't want to tread on people's toes. But I'd enjoyed working with him and found him really easy to get on with, we always had a laugh. And I said, "Do you want to come over for a couple of weeks?" He said, "Well, you can't do much in a couple of weeks." I said, "Well, we can do a couple of tracks and mix 'em.."

What was the dynamic between you and Jeff?

I'd show him the song. And then first of all we'd bang it down with a couple of acoustics so we'd have a wash to go against, instead of a click track. It's an old Beatle trick, really. Everything used to have two acoustics, at least. It was mainly me and John showing the guys the song. That's one of Jeff's production tricks, too. I can't think where he got it. A lot of people when I mentioned working with Jeff their eyebrows raised, and I picked up what they meant was he's going to make an ELO of you. I actually had that worry with Free As A Bird. But then I thought, No, we'd worked around it, and even though it was a Jeff Lynne-type production I still thought it sounded very like The Beatles. So I had a chat with him and I said, "I don't want to get into your recognisable sound." He was actually a little bit surprised, I don't think he thinks he has a sound (in surprised Brummie voice), "What do you mean?" He's a very innocent kind of bloke. I said, "If I feel we re getting into a bit of a Jeff Lynne formula, let's find a trick to get round it, subvert it." He was quite into it, actually.

John Lennon said in the late '70s that if The Beatles were still making records, they'd sound like ELO.

Yeah, it was important to Jeff to meet John and have him say, "Oh I love some of those ELO tracks." I liked them, too. It's a bit like Oasis. Anyone who gives such an obvious tribute to you, you either hate it or you love it, and I love it. They're taking our style and proliferating it, if that's the word. ELO were good, you know, pity about the haircut. (Pause) I'm only kidding about the haircut, you'd better put in brackets - he'd kill me. He's still got it.

Given Ringo's and George Martin's cameos, George Harrison remains conspicuous by his continued absence. Is it difficult, given your history and the reported 'artistic tension' on the Free As A Bird/Real Love sessions, to contemplate a Harrison/McCartney collaboration?

I don't know really. To tell you the truth, when I was working with John, it was so, I don't know, so full, you never had a minute, so if working with George never really came up, I got in the habit of not working with him, I never really learned how to do it. When we did Free As A Bird there were one or two little bits of tension, but it was actually cool for the record. For instance, I had a couple of ideas that he didn't like, and he was right. I'm the first one to accept that. So that was OK. We did then say that we might work together but the truth is, after Real Love I think George had some business problems. Er, it didn't do a lot for his moods over the last couple of years. He's been having a bit of a hard time, actually, he's not been that easy to get on with. I've rung him and maybe he hasn't rung back. No big deal. But when I ring Ringo, he rings back immediately, we're quite close that way. You know, I'll write George a letter and he might not reply to it. I don't think he means not to reply to it but it makes me wonder whether he actually wants to do it or not. And if you're not sure, you back off a little. But I love him, he's a lovely guy and I would love to do it. It'd be fun, he's good.

#always start with an apology for liking paul #transcription was partly automatic but then it started getting hinky so i had to type loads #please point out mistakes!#i guess i have to admit that i have a *collection* of vintage magazines now

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buildoblivion · 1 year ago

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A Fallen Crow

#heh heh heh #he nakey #jon snow #feeling a little self indulgent so have this #put some clothes on Jon for the love of god #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #ides of marsh #jeor mormonts raven #grrm #George r r Martin #adwd #a dance with dragons #minsart #valyrian scrolls #my art #fanart #canonjonsnow

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cheesecakethots · 1 year ago

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Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

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