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gretagerwigsmuse · 8 months ago

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my expectations were high and they were STILL SURPASSED!?! like holy shit this was unreal. the level of intimacy between them is amazing. the way they can go from anxious to confident to cheeky and funny made the entire hookup feel so real like i seriously felt like i was in the room with them (and the langham does have very nice rooms 😉). i have so much more to say below, but need to add another holy shit and a wow 💕

“Did the boss let you out on a school night, Bradley?” - the paparazzi chatter is so funny! (also i LOVE that she’s at the langham)

“...Paul Varjak,” he states, unable to bite back the smile. - V-A-R-J-A-K 🤭🤭 i squealed like properly squealed. reminds me of notting hill too!

Bradley looks even taller than you remember him. Broader. More… imposing. - he’s so tall and broad and big and brawny and i’d let him manhandle me (amongst other things) on the first date too

“Can I kiss you…?” Bradley breathes out. He feels foolish for asking, but it’s the only way to make sure he’s not ruining the entire evening. - bradley…bubs…it is the OPPOSITE of lame, trust me. and he’s def not ruining the evening. i like that they’re both nervous!!

Bradley tucks some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’m still a gentleman.” “Really? I don’t believe that…” you sway his hips lightly, “I think you’re very… very bad,” you purr out, your lips barely touching. - oh jesus fucking christ like get after it shall we?

“You’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman, kid…” - THE KID AGENDA!!!! okay ‘kid’ is very special to me as a nickname!!! it’s also fitting because it’s kind of like old school hollywood vibes? which fits for them

“Come here, I got you,” he rasps, his heart skipping as he drags the zipper down your back. - first the dress is gorg! and second this is a lot for me 🫠 ‘i got you’ 😮‍💨🫨🫠 jesusfuckingchrist

the lack of response and you’re already thinking, oh no this was a bad idea I shouldn’t have worn this— - sweet girl no!!! oh the poor thing! i can’t wait to explore this more! but also i love when he asks if it’s for him and she avoids the question and he still (kindly) presses her on it? really good writing!

“Such a good girl.” That flips a switch in your brain and he can see it. Your eyes go wide, your posture changes, and all of a sudden, you look so… small in his arms. So vulnerable, so beautiful. So perfect. - my WEAKNESS!!!! jesus 😮‍💨 i’m sorry i still maintain the fact that everyone is small in bradley’s arms/compared to bradley like that’s just the way he is! i love this so much

“Good girl, asking so nicely…” - and then he doesn’t taste, he DEVOURS!?! i’d ask nicely too 🤭

He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, watching you spread out like a feast for him. - the fact that he only just took his suit jacket off is dizzying to say nothing about my weakness for rolled shirtsleeves

He can play dominant all he wants, but he knows that the truth of the matter is, he’s all wrapped up around your little finger. - which is the best kind of dominant personality in a man!!

“Maybe next round,” he cheekily quips back. - i like how you added the lightness between them? like especially for a first time it’s really sweet having them joke around a bit ☺️

“I… I like it when it hurts.” Jesus fucking Christ. - took the words right out of my mouth because my jaw is on the FLOOR

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and it feels unlike your regular out-of-town hookup. No, this one’s different. - awwww i love this! i’m seriously so excited to see where they go from here! i know they’re both gonna be gutting being so far away from each other

fever pitch (b.b.) - part three

previous part | series masterlist

soundtrack: don't blame me - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: you and bradley spend the night, but the road to heaven is full of obstacles; some are external, others are self-inflicted. warnings: language, public scrutiny (will be a recurring theme in this fic ha!), bradley is a stand-up guy all round, fluff, smut (d/s elements, praise kink, bit of a bratty side?, fingering, oral [f receiving], dirty talk, size kink, bradley is PACKING, protected sex) notes: i'm back! life has been crazy since i posted the previous chapter, but i just wanna say thank you so so much for your patience and your kind words about the fic so far! big shoutout to @gretagerwigsmuse and @teacupsandtopgun for being absolutely GEMS in brainstorming ideas-- this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for y'all <3 happy reading!

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The Langham, Sterling Suite. Ask for Holly Golightly ;)

Bradley smiles at your text, and the cheeky “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” reference. He shoots up a quick reply as he makes his way out to the lobby, fighting hard not to be grinning like an idiot to any unassuming passersby, until—

Click-click-click-click! FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!

“Hey, it’s Bradley Bradshaw!”

“Oi, Bradley! Give us a smile, mate!”

“Bradley, did you get to meet Y/N inside?”

“Did the boss let you out on a school night, Bradley?”

”How are you feeling about the Sunderland game this weekend?”

It’s a meager distance from the steps of Annabel’s to the curb where the valet has brought out his car, but holy shit. It doesn’t usually get nearly as crazy as this. He’s partied here with Harry Styles, and nobody bat an eye when the guy stumbled out drunk with his left tit out. But maybe it’s because Harry lives in London sometimes, or maybe because he was on a break… unlike Miss Americana on her world tour right now. It makes him pause and rethink how careful he needs to be.

Bradley gets into his car and drives off, trying to tread between the fine line of quick and careful. He can’t help but look over the rearview mirror more often than normal. Fuck, is this how you feel like all the time? He’s no stranger to the spotlight, but rather than the occasional run-ins, nobody has ever been interested in where he went to dinner on a random Tuesday night.

The Langham is barely a mile away, but Bradley sees photographers parked across the hotel with their long-lens cameras and disgusting disposition, and he keeps on driving. Thinking. Restrategizing. Hoping that his vintage aubergine Ferrari isn’t causing suspicion for driving by the second and third time.

He finds a basement parking lot behind the building and pulls up, hoping it’s the right entrance to the hotel. The attendant looks starstruck as he nods and points the way, sending him off with an eager ‘Come on you Gunners!’. And just like that, he makes it into the lobby out of the pap’s sight.

Be cool, he reminds himself, you’re only as suspicious as you seem to be. He comes up to the reception desk, and the girl behind it greets him warmly.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Langham. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ms. Golightly at the Sterling Suite,” Bradley says smoothly. “Holly Golightly.”

“And who am I speaking with, sir?” The girl looks at him like he seems familiar, but can’t quite place him.

“...Paul Varjak,” he states, unable to bite back the smile. Oh, the thrill of giving out a fake name with the very real possibility of getting called out on his shit.

But she nods and grabs the telephone, dialing into your room. Blissfully ignorant of the pseudonym he just gave her.

Good.

Let this inside joke be the two of yours alone.

The elevator ride up is peaceful—too peaceful that he can hear his heart beating and his palms sweating. Even the carpet mutes his footsteps towards the double door. Before he even presses the bell, a bodyguard opens the door for him.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” he nods curtly. It’s one of the guys from the restaurant earlier. Middle-aged, stout and rather short, sporting a permanent scowl and a vibe that indicates he’s seen some shit.

“Hi. Sorry, I haven’t got your name…?”

“Guy,” he deadpans.

Bradley wonders if that’s his real name or he’s just saying it so Bradley would get off his case, but smiles anyway. “Nice to meet you, Guy.”

Guy hums gruffly and ushers him into the foyer, an identical hallway of the hotel, with a room on each side. “Through here,” he leads him towards another set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

Meanwhile, you are full-on freaking out in your living room. Should you get changed? You’ve taken off your heels, but getting everything off feels so premeditated… You don’t even know if he wants things to go that far. Maybe you can break your little rule and bring out the wine for liquid courage? Gosh, nothing feels right. And it’s been so long since you’ve last done this that you’ve actually gone rusty.

And before you get to decide—in the long, wasteful twenty minutes or so you’ve been pacing, you hear a knock on your door.

“Coming!”

You rush over to get the door and there he is, coming out victorious through the hurdles, smiling at you.

“Thanks, Guy. I’ll take it from here,” you dismiss your security a little too quickly, nodding over Bradley’s shoulder. You’re sure Guy is rolling his eyes all the way back to his room over your lovestruck teenager behavior.

But it hardly matters when this man before you is looking at you like the sun.

“Hey, you.” Bradley beams at you from his spot. As if afraid to invade your space somehow.

And so are you. This feels like that night in the garden all over again. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t some pocket of a park you stumbled into; this is your hotel room.

Quiet.

Private.

Safe.

“Come on in.” You let him cross the threshold, closing the door behind him the warm foyer light cast golden upon his face. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’ve ditched your six-inch heels, or that there’s no one else, but Bradley looks even taller than you remember him. Broader. More… imposing.

“I’m sorry for taking so long. There’s cameras everywhere and I had to—”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him. It feels rude to ask if he got caught on camera, but at this point, you had to ask. “Did you… Did they…?”

Bradley quickly shakes his head. “No, I took the basement entrance, out of sight. We’re good.”

”I’m, uh… sorry for the fuss.”

”Hey, it’s no trouble at all… Ms. Golightly,” he tilts his head, grinning at your chosen pseudonym.

”Yeah, it changes every time. My last stop in Tennessee, I was Clarice Starling,” you admit, making him laugh. “Although I’m glad you got the reference… Mr. Varjak.”

He simpers, very proud of himself. And with that, he takes a step closer to you. Towering over you. Crowding you with his smile, his scent, his body heat… and neither of you makes the first touch. You’re painfully aware of how his gaze keeps dropping to your lips. Bodies drawn towards each other but tied in place for some reason. It seems like despite all the flirting you did at the restaurant, everything goes out the window once you’re alone.

You’re just two strangers, caught in a thrilling game of push and pull. Too scared to tip over and just… fall.

“Can I kiss you…?” Bradley breathes out. He feels foolish for asking, but it’s the only way to make sure he’s not ruining the entire evening.

But you sigh in relief and nod your head yes, and it gives you the push you need to close the distance from him. You don’t know which one happened first; touching his lips with yours, grasping his arms for balance, or standing on your tiptoes on his shoes. He keeps you there, his strong hands securing your waist.

“You’re making me feel like a kid…” It makes you giggle into the kiss, and he can’t not possibly fall in love with the sound of that—with the feel of your lips pulled up right against his.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing…” Bradley runs his hands down your sides gently. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“All night? You mean you’ve been thinking about making out with me while I tell you my life story?” you gasp, feigning shock and offense.

He laughs again. “Maybe for a moment or two there, I’ll admit.”

“I thought you were a gentleman!” you give him a playful smack on his behind, and there’s a flash of… something in his eyes. A spark, or a darkening. You’re not sure what it is yet, but it sends butterflies into your stomach yet again.

Bradley tucks some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’m still a gentleman.”

“Really? I don’t believe that…” you sway his hips lightly, “I think you’re very… very bad,” you purr out, your lips barely touching.

He meets you halfway, and it feels like less of a shock this time. You gladly lose yourself in him, knowing you’ve crossed the line now. You finally notice how his mustache scratches your skin in a nice way, how he holds you flush against him, how he just melts into you in the kiss… enshrouding you in his warmth and lighting you on fire at the same time.

Bradley pulls away, barely just. His forehead is still pressed against yours, your noses are bumping, and his breath melding with yours. He licks his lips and you swear you can almost taste it. “You’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman, kid…”

You can’t help but chuckle at the nickname. It’s not one you expect, but it sounds right somehow. “I didn’t invite you all the way here to be a gentleman.”

The twinkle in his eyes darken. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. “Is that right?” Bradley’s hands slide down your hips, finding the swell of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

The air catches in your throat, and you swallow lightly. “Mm-hm.”

Instead, you lead him into the bedroom. Bradley is right behind you, barely a step behind. His hands have found a home on your hips and he seems adamant to stay there for a moment. Insisting to hold onto you because he worries he’ll get ahead of himself before you’re ready. But gosh, you’ve been ready all night and you’re practically twisting your arms around trying to reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Come here, I got you,” he rasps, his heart skipping as he drags the zipper down your back. He’s not sure which one he loves more; the dip of your spine that he wants to trace with your tongue, or the way the dress falls to the floor and reveals what’s underneath that prim and proper pink dress.

A tiny scrap of lace held by a black strap on either side of your hips, framing the swell of your ass perfectly.

And he swears, for a split second, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck…” he breathes out.

You can’t turn around fast enough. It might be a good ‘fuck’, but what if it’s a bad one? “What’s wrong?”

Bradley just blinks at you, for no other reason than how your nipples are poking out the side of the skimpy triangle of your bra. And that your lipstick is smeared on the edges from kissing him.

But of course, your mind is already racing from the lack of response and you’re already thinking, oh no this was a bad idea I shouldn’t have worn this—

“Hey, hey…” he sees your face fall and your arms come up to cover your chest and he immediately steps in. Holding you close, hoping to give you comfort. “Is this all for me?”

Oh, shit. Maybe if you close your eyes tight enough, you would melt to the floor. “I know, it’s a little much—”

“No, that’s not what I asked…” Bradley tilts your chin up, making you look him in the eye. “I said… Did you put these on for me?”

Your breath comes up short, and you nod ever so slightly. You don’t even trust your own voice not to betray how much you want him to like it. How much you want him.

“It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.” He smiles into your lips, kissing you there. Spelling out how he feels with his hands on your ass, his mouth on yours. “Such a good girl…”

That flips a switch in your brain and he can see it. Your eyes go wide, your posture changes, and all of a sudden, you look so… small in his arms. So vulnerable, so beautiful. So perfect.

Suddenly, he’s holding the world in his arms. The sexy little thing you call panties is a pesky little nuisance now, and he can’t wait to get it off of you. His broad shoulders are keeping your legs open, his nose nuzzling your pubic bone as he looks up at you.

Bradley lowers you down on the side of the bed, settling on his knees before you. Committing every inch to memory by touch, from your ankle to your knee, up the inside of your thighs. When he reaches the scrap of fabric at your core, he feels it slick. He smirks. “What do we have here?”

Your face heats up. How the fuck are you supposed to answer that? No words are coming to your head—not when he’s drawing patterns over your pussy, making the lace glisten all over. And when your panties are positively ruined, he draws his hand back and licks the offending fingers in earnest.

And all it takes is a taste to send him into a frenzy.

“Fuck honey, need to taste you…” he murmurs between feverish kisses all over your legs. “Can I?”

You nod fervently, feeling like he’s got you under a spell.

“Use your words, kid.” He grins, playfully biting the inside of your thigh.

The sharp sensation makes you yelp, and you grip his hair in reflex. “Yes, want your mouth on me, please…”

“Good girl, asking so nicely…” he chuckles, satisfied with your response. Then, he pulls you to the edge of the bed. That dainty scrap of lace you call panties is a pesky nuisance now, and he couldn’t wait any longer to get it off of you. With your legs hiked up on his broad shoulders, he dives into you.

A taste, as it turns out, is an understatement because what Bradley does is devour.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp sharply at the contact.

With one hand pinning your thigh open, he laps you up in earnest, figuring out the many ways he can make you squirm. Time ceases to exist because it feels like he makes you come in no time, but also he’s been down there forever. But he goes on and on and on until his name comes out in a desperate chant of lust and need.

“Bradley Bradley Bradley…” she grinds shamelessly into his mustache now, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation on your part. “Please, I’m gonna…”

“I know, honey. I got you. It’s okay.” It’s an oddly wholesome thing to say in a moment like this, but maybe you’re a hopeless romantic at heart, because sweet nothings get you off.

Your orgasm strikes like a thunderbolt, and you find yourself arching into his mouth. The more you take, the more he gives—or is it the other way around?— It seems like he takes as much pleasure in it as you do. Maybe even more, as he holds onto you as you squirm away overstimulated.

“Bradley… wait.” You grab a handful of his hair, trembling breathlessly.

His mustache glistens when he comes up for air, and he finally (finally!) takes off his suit jacket as he stands up. He eases up on the throttle and lets you breathe for a second. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, watching you spread out like a feast for him. Legs open, bra askew, hair fanned out on the pillow… God, he’s so lucky.

When he returns on top of you, you’re eager to pull him by his belt buckle, but he brushes your hand away. You frown in protest. “But I wanna touch you—”

“It’s not your turn yet, honey,” he chides you teasingly.

“You just had your turn!”

He shrugs, nosing your cheek. “Well, it’s still my turn, so…” Bradley closes the gap again and kisses you openly.

The taste of your arousal on his tongue makes you dizzy, but it can’t distract you from the buzz of his fingers rubbing your devoured pussy, sending shivers down your spine. It’s entirely too much, and you keel over from the contact.

“Somebody’s a little sensitive, huh?” He grins, easing the throttle a little.

“Fuck you…”

“Well, if you say so.” He slides his middle finger in.

“Ohhh… Bradley…” you buck up your hips and moan. But in comes another finger, and you swear it feels like all of him.

He’s wound differently this time, like a man on a mission. With his fingers crooking and stroking your silky walls, beckoning you to come closer, while you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to hold on. But his teeth yanks the edge of your bra to set your nipple free, and his sly tongue finally gets a taste… all resolve goes out the window.

“Come on, honey. I know you got another one in you…” he breathes out, undoing the front clasp of your bra so he can suck your tits with all his might, willing you to come.

And frankly, who are you to say no?

The burst of pleasure hits you from your core to your fingertips. If he wasn’t pinning you down on top of you, you would have probably floated away. But you’re firmly laid on the mattress and feeling everything. Your eyes blink back into focus as you come down from your high.

You pant, staring at him in disbelief. Nobody has ever put that much attention on you in bed before even taking off his clothes. “You got a baseball bat in there or something?”

“Something like that.” He rolls his eyes playfully. Jokingly, you assume.

You take his arm, kissing his wrist, “Can I touch you now?” sticking your tongue out to lick his digits clean of you. Putting on a show as you suck his fingers. “Please?”

He throws his head back and groans. “Fuck.” He can’t resist that doe-eyed look you’re putting on, nor can he resist you undoing his shirt buttons. He can play dominant all he wants, but he knows that the truth of the matter is, he’s all wrapped up around your little finger. “Okay, okay. You win.”

It’s a mess of unbuckling pants, kicking off shoes, and tossing clothes to the floor. Your hand reaches out to trace his gleaming skin, every ridge of his abdomen. You’ve seen the Calvin Klein campaigns and the Men’s Health covers— and gosh, he looks like a dream. But when that thing just springs up to his stomach when he pushes his boxers down…

You didn’t expect him to manifest straight out of your wet dream.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about your baseball bat,” you breathe out, head tilted as you stare at his thick cock. The vein that runs along the side, the way it curves slightly to the right, the length that makes you clench at the mere thought of it… Fuck, it’s pretty.

Bradley chuckles sheepishly. He knows how big it is, he’s heard all the jokes in the locker room, but hearing it from you hits different. “You scared?”

You should be, a little. But without flinching, you bite your lip and look him in the eye. “Nah, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Gosh, he loves you. He’ll have to remember not to blurt that out too early. “Okay, big girl,” he chuckles, kissing you one last time before rolling off of the bed.

His sudden disappearance out of sight makes you frown. “Where are you—” you prop yourself up on your elbow, seeing him fish out a packet of condom from his trousers pocket, “Right. Safety first.”

Bradley nods, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on. There’s something so hot about how a man looks just before he fucks someone. “Mm-hm. Gotta make sure we’re both covered.”

“Do I need goggles and a helmet, too?”

He pauses as he straddles your hips. “Maybe next round,” he cheekily quips back. The idea of you wearing nothing but a helmet and safety goggles weirdly makes his cock stir, too. But you’re already lying naked under him, and he doubts that much will deter his hard-on.

Bradley pushes himself into you a little, and your eyes water as you whimper out in a blur of pain and pleasure. And here you thought two of his fingers felt full…

He stops in his tracks, trying to gauge your reaction. He nearly lost his mind over how tightly you’re clenched around him, but he doesn’t want to presume. “Too much?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

Your breaths run ragged as you look up at him, almost in awe. “You’re just… so big…”

He laughs breathlessly. He hates to brag, but it’s true. And as much as he’s enjoying the way you flutter under him, he has to ask, “Want me to pull out?” Please say no, please say no, I don’t think I can handle it…

“N-no…” you wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him for dear life. “But I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Bradley smiles at what has to be the most adorable look he’s ever seen from you. He kisses your forehead in reassurance. “I’ll go nice and slow, okay? I promise.”

Feeling this small and vulnerable so soon after meeting someone would usually set all kinds of alarms in your head. You never know how a guy would take it. But in this moment, nestled in the crook of his neck, among the mix of his perfume and aftershave and his natural musk… all you want to do is stay. “Okay,” you nod softly.

“Let’s try again then, hm?” He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear, “Open up, love.”

With a deep breath, you bite back a whimper as you take him deeper, still not quite all the way in. “Hurts…”

Bradley stops again, his concern fully taking over now. “You sure you want me to keep going…?”

“Yes!” You surprise yourself with how quick and desperate you answered him. Your eyes shut, trying to offset the warmth setting over your cheeks, as you make the dirty admission, “I… I like it when it hurts.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bradley has to remind himself not to come on the spot, because holy shit. He wouldn’t go this hard on a woman so early in the game, but… his head is dizzy from how innocently you said it. He takes a breath to pull himself together. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

The air is heavy. The room is silent. You can hear the shift in the tension as you smirk, “Yessir.”

There you are, you little devil. Bradley simply grabs you by the hips and bottoms out inside you. Your face goes slack while your cunt tightens around his cock, and it blows his mind.

He starts out slow, torturously so. Stuffing himself inside your crevice and dragging himself out, willing you to feel every inch. Every ridge. Until your body loosens up and twists around in the throes of passion. Your mouth falls open, your little gasps and moans coming and going as he pleases.

The unhurried pace is nice for a few minutes, when you’re still adjusting to his size. But now that he’s snug inside you, you’re simply aching for more. Your hips arch up into him halfway, a little more urgent, disrupting the rhythm with a pleasant stutter.

He notices this and smiles. “So eager… what’s the rush, hm?”

You answer with a groan. He has a penchant for asking you questions you can’t answer, this man. “You feel so good, baby…” you murmur headily, hands desperately grasping on him—his arms, his shoulders, his back…

”You feel even better.” He nips at your pert nipple, relishing in your angelic little filthy cry. Fuck, he can feel the exact motion of your pussy tightening for him. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that…”

”Then don’t.”

His eyes flicker onto yours immediately. You’re gonna be the death of him, he swears…

You grab his hair by the fistful, keeping his gaze. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

”Oh fuck—” he doesn’t stand a chance. His body reacts faster than his brain could compute, and he holds your hips flush against his as he buries himself as deep as he can. Every twitch of his cock sends you reeling, and your pussy clenches and unwinds in your climax, following him down from his high to yours.

Free falling, hand in hand.

Bradley rolls off of you and you would complain, if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you into his chest. Thank fuck. You’re not quite ready to untangle from him yet. Not when your breaths still run a bit ragged, as if accidentally catching each other’s. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and it feels unlike your regular out-of-town hookup. No, this one’s different. But not a word is said between you on that for different reasons— each of you holding your cards close to your chest, as close as you’re holding each other.

#bradley fic

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cherrytreeshipper · 1 year ago

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jesus FUCKING CHRIST I GOTTA TELL YOU ABOUT WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME. it's about a spider though so if you don't wanna hear about that. don't.

so earlier this morning i was eating breakfast and i saw something moving on my shoulder out of the corner of my eye. i freaked out and inspected myself but couldn't find anything so i assumed it was just my hair and moved on with my day.

a little while later i was watering my forget-me-nots and spraying them with bug spray. when all of a fucking sudden this BIG ASS SPIDER CRAWLS OFF MY ARM AND ONTO THE WINDOWSILL. AAAAAH. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! HOW LONG HAD IT BEEN ON ME? WHERE DID IT CRAWL ONTO ME FROM? I'LL NEVER KNOW!!!!!

...um. i tried to figure out what kind of spider it was, but i didn't get a good look at it and looking at online lists of spiders in my area freaked me out too much. so. there's another mystery for the list. and that's the story!

...wow i'm telling a lot of long pointless stories on this blog huh.

#spider tw #bug tw #words from my mouth

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ithisatanytime · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

Scooter - Fire

its just that i know jesus christ suffered on the cross and died for my sins and it seemed pretty important to him, there was a lot of shall nots in the bible and ive broken my fair share but there was just one thing he was like “abomination” and repulsive in his sight, so i just dont do that thing, simple as

#youtube

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spiritsoulandbody · 2 years ago

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#DailyDevotion So What Are You Doing With The Few Inches Of Life You Have?

#DailyDevotion So What Are You Doing With The Few Inches Of Life You Have? Psalm 39 I said: I will watch my ways and not sin with my tongue; I will keep a muzzle on my mouth while I face the wicked man. 2I kept completely silent and said nothing; then my grief was stirred up, 3and my heart burned in me. As I meditated it blazed. Then I spoke with my tongue: It is perhaps a difficult thing to watch people sin with impunity. They live in iniquity and want you to give approval as if it was good. It can be very difficult to see this and not sin with your tongue. We know if we open our mouths we will be hit with a barrage of “judge nots.” If we say something, it will often come out in anger and we will go beyond what the LORD gives us to say and sin ourselves with our words. So David, in facing the wicked man decides to keep these things to himself. He sets out to muzzle his mouth and keep silent and say nothing. He does not want to sin with his tongue. Yet the wickedness of others weighs down upon him. As he meditates on the situation and doesn't say anything it burns within his heart. He can hardly contain himself. He finally speaks but the Holy Spirit takes him in a different direction. Does the Spirit ever change the direction of your thoughts and prayers? 4“O LORD, tell me about my end, how many days I have left, so that I know how fleeting my life is. 5You made my days a few inches, and my whole life is nothing to You. 6Every man stands there as just a vapor; each one walks around in the dark; he makes a lot of fuss about nothing; he heaps up things without knowing who will get them.” It is no doubt the Holy Spirit who takes David in this direction. He turns things back to David. On the one hand, it could be David who is wondering how much longer he will have to put up with evil in his life. I think the Spirit is driving him to examine himself and his own condition. So David gets the thought he should wonder how many days he has left upon the earth. He should come to realize how fleeting his life is. His life, like our lives, is just like a few inches in time. Our whole life (time wise) is nothing to the Eternal One. We're all like the morning mist that burns up when the sun comes up and we are no more. Worse than that, we are like people who walk in the dark, that is often without God's word directing our lives. We go by what we feel and what we think. We forget to judge it according to God's revealed will. We end up making a lot of fuss about nothing. We may think this is a relatively new thing in social media but as we can see, we've been making mountains out of mole hills for millennia. Are all the things we get upset worth that much time and effort? Could we better spend our time doing good to others and showing people love? Which leads to the last phrase of verse 6, “he heaps up things without knowing who will get them.” Do we need everything we have? Do we use it for the benefit of others? Do we have stuff because buying it in the first place made us feel better? Even if in worldly terms our possessions have some worth, who is going to get them when we are no longer here? How are they going to use them? If you're decluttering, instead of asking Marie Kondo's question, “Does it bring me joy,” perhaps we should ask, “can it serve my neighbor?” It is a good thing to meditate on our transitoriness of our being here in the LORD Jesus Christ and ask ourselves, what are we doing with the time given us. Merciful Father, help us to number our days so we may live our lives according to Your will and not waste them in fruitless thinking. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

#Christ #Christianity #devotion #faith #Jesus #LCMS #life #loveofneighbor #Lutheran #Messiah #Prayer #Psalms #shortlife #transitorylife

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commic-jester · 2 years ago

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emma - carnations (striped), hyssops, mints, roses (yellow), sweet peas, and zinnias .

striped carnations are refusals . i imagine her gettin this flower after . actually no i wont explain that . hyssops r largely symbolic of cleanliness which i really associate w emma ? mint is hospitality which is Emma fr !! yellow roses n zinnias r both friendship n love, n friendship is vv integral to emma as a character (even if she treats her own friends like shit) . sweet peas have a LOT of meanings from what ive found but im more focused on the 'departure' part . emma loses a lot of friends . i think it fits .

manny - daffodils, freesias, gardenias, heliotropes, hyacinths (blue), savories, and speedwells .

daffodils r rebirth . manny reinvents her entire image . freesias (n also gardenias) r innocence n purity, which is practically the OPPOSITE of what happens to many . the purity of freesias would symbolize manny's loss of innocence . heliotropes r endless love...manny has SO much love to give (but how much does she really get in return ?) . blue hyacinths r constancy n loyalty . manny always seems to be a constant in emmas life even throughout their disagreements . savory is a plant i KNOW but it symbolizes romance :] manny is a vv romantic character ! n finally speedwells r meant for healin . manny has, like every character, a LOT of trauma n baggage to work through . but shes strong n she perseveres and and and

rapid fire time .

j.t - brugmansias, forget-me-nots, hollies, lilacs, rosemaries, sweet peas, valerians, and yarrows .

brugmansias (angels trumpets) is vibrancy, but also danger which is kinda really funny in ref to jt . forget-me-nots i already explained . hollies r foresight n defense which is another ironic meanin for jt bc yeah . lilacs r innocence, or jt's innocence, and that he both dies innocent but also LOSES his innocence when he tried to killhimself that one time . rosemaries r mournin/remembrance . sweet peas for the same reason as emma . valerian herbs for strength, or jt's lack thereof . yarrows for 'saying i love you in spite of everything' to liberty, despite the drug dealing, despite the accidental kid, despite the death: jt still loves her

liberty - forget-me-nots, lilies (orange), primroses, roses (red), thymes, violets, and willows .

orange lilies for honor n pride, which liberty has lots of <3 primroses optimism or libertys decision that she WILL have a future without jt in it . red roses for romances or ig romances that liberty always seems to lose apparently which i though was bullshit but oh well . thymes for courage which liberty has so much of . violets for humility . willows for loss AND hope

sean - aloes, bay wreaths, begonias, columbines (purple), lavender, salvias (blue), and thymes !

aloe plant for healin/protection bc sean is such a protective guy n prioritizes his own healin . bay wreaths/laurels for victory except sean may have had a victory but he didnt WIN he never got the satisfaction of winnin he only got the satisfaction of comin out on top . begonias for justice as well as misfortune: sean is vv troubled n is served "justice" in ways that r more unfair than true justice . purple columbines for success . lavender for calmness . blue salvias for long life (in contrast to ricks, who he feels guilty for cutting his life short) . n thymes for courage again ! woohoo !!!

there r SO many more you have no idea . be happy i didnt add craig or campbell or ashley or toby here bc jesus christ

OUGHDODUGJ

#i am. too tired to give an actual response i am so sorry but please know that these r all making me go bonkers /gen

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christmic · 2 years ago

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I love to color in the lines. I color in the lines I drew. I traced them from the bodies of the many nameless lost souls of the world. African women topless with a hut and a little silver cross inbetween their breasts, and eyes that know more paranormal in their hearts than any overweight psychic back in the states. Who bears the weight of the world on their shoulders and lifts them up mount madonna? Who writes poetry with their wife? Verse in sync. Yeah we need a new girl but Jick is too much of a simp to get his new one in on - gotta get some abstracted away CMON MAN to quote bidenism’s you got hairy legs in the pool and they stand up on end if you let her in on the poliverse too! Also R I P to the shifty clittys and lets face it brother we’re getting old and the natural state of men in our position when it comes to girls is out with the old, in with the new. Not that I’d ever do that to my WIFEI!

I agree to an extent - the second most important lesson is as you said to ‘You can whinge and whine all you want, but there are no shoulds, no should nots, and no nos. There are only the friends you come in with, and the friends you come back to.’ But the first most important is Christ is KANG! Always was and is. You can’t be an elitist and have an iPhone though, and also we have no flies they are lifelong brothers in arms - we’ve deduced it to the bay area kids are much more concerned about seeming smart they can’t do the basics later on in life like let a nice girl in on their inside world outside voice doodling club. KISS - Keep it Simple Stupid. CringeBat can’t write anything because God knows she is running and hiding and crying like season 2 of what she did to whats his name the sweet one omg I took his chick the least I can do is remember his name. Ben? No that’s her cousin right? GEORGE OF THE JUNGLE JUICE!!!!!!!

Wow so wow mom’s Bday was stelar wrapped nice nice nice nice nice nice gifts cute card we took her out stellar times, stellar times! Madonna Madonna- also I outsource wisdom when needed and Bonjo gives the hair advice(style I transcended her after living in the cities) but HAIR she taught me how to do a manbun and I need to move these large mirrors because it feels vain admiring myself so much. I’m glowing in great shape and am happy and blissed all the time. And Jick can be happy to one day! The day he chooses Love over fear, to accept everyone that didn’t grow up with a lawyer mom / engineer ‘dad’. And instead of looking down on their illiteracy he’ll learn to make real food dig real wholes and plant real plants instead of the sea of abstraction that makes up his fortune. Lauren would be so kind to give me her digits so we can mind control him away from simp life! Because the third most important lesson of the whole poliverse is a given - write everyday new new so help us God. That’s it. You can make excuses calling it toxic. You can feel the censors and the edits and the doubts and the noise of life to pull you away. But who hasn’t missed a day yet? Christmic. Who might’ve missed a day but that didn’t count? Christmic. The solution for your fears is to keep writing shadowClit. THe solution for your fears is to keep posting cringeBat. The solution for your fears is to let the girls in twoGimpHands. Then if you’re afraid they’ll read what you wrote just write a buttload more. I understand I had years of prac with poliw.at and it sometimes got me in a lot of trouble - but WORTH IT! We never have to go beyond codenames in verse.

And the other fourth most important lesson of all - stop all feeds. Feeds are for cattle. Leave zuckbook, leave plebbit, leave google, leave twatter, leave instahoe, leave toktick, leave it all. Stop all news. Stop everything. Stop looking at screens. If you’re on the screen, you’re creating at least. Stop all rectangle slave drivers. But me again my only rectangle is the bible atm. And the transition Saul to Paul experienced in his life was epic! He used to ruthlessly kill followers of Jesus until one day on the road on his horse he was blinded by a bright light and Jesus was there and asked him why he was an enemy of him. That’s maybe where the saying get off your high horse. And then Saul became Paul and went all around the empire preaching about Jesus. He was HIGH UP in the Jewish sect at the time and they hated that he started preaching about Jesus. Eventually they killed him for the same reason he used to kill people. Saul to Paul. Saul to Paul.

You can’t not be influenced, so it’s up to you. Do you want to make God smile in your thoughts in actions? Or do you want to feel naked? Schizo hobos will say how dangerous society became when the people stopped doing their holy homework. Bunch of headless chickens bouncing from distraction to distraciton pretending they aren’t one day going to die and meet their maker. It’s only in the brain! HA! I’ve experienced God in a loud direct sense and in many subtle senses to the point it’s not belief, it’s fact. You can escape God if you like, but it’s not as cool as you think. Separation from God is not something I’d wish on anyone. But hey the harder you push, the harder he’ll pull. I was influenced

Starts: I love to color in the lines

Ends: I was influenced

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photogirl894 · 2 years ago

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At the behest of my bestie, @darthzero22 , I've done a moodboard for something I've never done before...myself!! 😊

A lot of the things on here are things I'm pretty sure I've shared once or numerous times, depending on what it is, but I'll share some things about myself that are on this board, going from left to right starting at the top:

I love writing, as evidenced by my long multi-chapter fanfic and oneshots I've published 🖊

The Bad Batch is one of my favorite shows 🥰

A picture of myself as well as with a camera because I'm a photographer 📸

Dragons are my favorite mythical creature that I so wish were real🐉

I'm a happily married woman (we're going on 7 years in January) and that is my actual wedding ring 💍

I'm a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that is the temple my husband and I were married in and that is also a photo that I took myself ⛪️

The White Tree from Lord of the Rings, my all-time favorite movie trilogy that I've loved since I was 6 years old ��

Sergeant Hunter, my current fictional love of my life 😍

I'm a big Dungeons and Dragons player, I've been playing for almost 4 years and I have a huge collection of dice sets (I'm at 20 sets) 🎲

My favorite animal is a Panda 🐼

Psych is another one of my all-time favorite shows that I've rewatched many times and still am just as entertained every time 🍍

I absolutely love music, both listening to music as well as singing, and I come from a very musical family 🎶

Aragorn, my very first and also-current fictional love of my life 😍

Lastly, I'm a big chocoholic 🍫

Bonus: the flowers on the top and bottom are forget-me-nots, my favorite flower 🌸

Anyways, that's me: Morgan aka Photogirl894!! 💜

That's only a few things about myself and if anyone ever wants to know more about me, don't be shy and reach out! I'm a pretty open book!! 😊

#photogirl894 moodboards

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janiedean · 2 years ago

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Me, innocently: I'm gonna check out some green blogs, see what they think because I feel like sometimes blacks fans are too biased. What I immediately see: I can excuse Aegon being a rapist because it's only there to make Rhaenyra look better and makes no sense (no it isn't and yes it does) plus unironically stanning Criston and Otto. Me: Jesus Christ. We're only one season in and it's already as bad as got discourse.

you are me anon you are me and honestly i am not EVER looking forward to the b&c discourse that will inevitably bring back WE KNOW EXACTLY WHAT DISCOURSE FROM ASOIAF which had gotten old in 2013 imvho :’)))) anyway like i am forever perplexed at the fact that it seems like a lot of ppl on that side aren’t grasping the point that dislike or like rhaenyra *she* was supposed to have the crown end of story X’D like aegon being crown was usurping her regardless of everything else so the whole discourse of ‘they make her look better’ makes me go ????? never mind that whether you agree with the aegon change or not (i don’t find it beyond him tbh i mean……. again anyone capable of doing THAT THING HE DOES THAT ALSO CONCERNED RHAENYRA’S SON WITH HIS SAME NAME is imvho the worst so X’D) it was made to make alicent look better not rhaenyra so X’DDDDDD it was ENTIRELY for alicent’s char development not for anyone else’s so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

that said i get that more than stanning criston and most of all thrift shop tywin from notting hill who is honestly the literal worst but again considering most greens opinions i block on twitter basically hinge around the fact that rhaenyra’s kids aren’t legit so aegon should be king bc he has legit children…. like what did u even understand about these books because legitimacy being what should make you rule is NOT the message grrm wants to send but okay then

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sablelab · 4 years ago

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👻 Spooky meets Kooky 🎃

SUMMARY: Claire reminisces about the time when she first came to Scotland and fell through the stones on the eve of Samhain. Jamie tells her a story his da told them as bairns, and Claire recaps her favourite Halloween memory from the future which has James Fraser all engrossed in more ways than one.

A spoof of when the past meets the future. Retelling parts of Chapter 1, pp 22-25 from Drums of Autumn, inspired by Halloween with the Addams Family and Vera Adxer’s artwork above.

AO3

PART 1 … The Tale of the Tannasg 👻

It was nearing to Halloween time on Fraser’s Ridge, and as the Frasers prepared for a night beside the fire, Claire was reminiscing about times gone by on that fateful night that was to become her destiny.

“Jamie, Halloween, the spookiest night of the year, is almost upon us.”

“Don’t ye mean Samhain Sassenach?” he replied cheekily knowing that the two were indeed similar celebrations centuries apart.

“I do, but I was just thinking about the first time that Frank and I came to Inverness all those years ago … I remember it was on the eve of Samhain.”

She continued to tell Jamie the conversation they’d had in Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast not realizing that her husband’s mind was elsewhere. “I can still recall what she said …”

“Well, you've picked a bonny time to be here. Just nigh on Samhain.”

“I take it that's Gaelic for "Halloween?”

“Well, Halloween is derived from Samhain. You're both welcome at the festival, of course.”

“Of course, what would Halloween, Samhain, be without a good ghost story?”

“Oh, and we have those, for sure. I hope you'll join us for Samhain tomorrow night.”

“What, the pagan festival?”

“Aye. There’s a circle of standing stones on the hill just outside the village, and there's a local group who still observe rituals there. It’s a place called Craigh na Dun and according to local folklore, the stones were carried there from Africa by a race of Celtic giants …”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hmmph! Not Frank …” Jamie mumbled under his breath tapping his fingers against his thigh in dislike.

The mention of Frank Randall’s name only brought back his feelings towards the man he had sent his Claire back to on the eve of Culloden knowing that he would surely die on the battlefield. His emotions were still raw about this man even after all these years and their conversation about him and their daughter Brianna echoed in his head as Claire was still speaking.

“I hadna thought ever to be so jealous of a dead man. I shouldna have thought it possible.”

“Of a dead man? Of Frank?”

“Who else? I have been worm-eaten wi’ it, all these days of riding. I see his face in my mind, waking and sleeping. Ye did say he looked like Jack Randall, no?”

“How? How could you think of such a thing?”

“How could I not? Ye heard her, Claire; ye ken well what she said to me!”

“Brianna?”

“She said she would gladly see me in hell, and sell her own soul to have her father back—her real father. I keep thinking he would not have made such a mistake. He would have trusted her; he would have known that she … I keep thinking that Frank Randall was a better man than I am. She thinks so. I thought … perhaps ye felt the same, Sassenach.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser …!” Claire remonstrated noticing that her husband seemed a little distracted, “… Are you listening to me?”

“Aye, I am Sassenach,” he replied sheepishly knowing that his mind had indeed been elsewhere. “I’m intrigued about that night in Inverness, and what happen to ye before ye fell through the stones.” Jamie looked at his wife and gave her his full attention to what she might say next.

“Do you know that if I hadn’t gone to see the Druids that night, and returned in the morning to collect the Forget-me-nots, that I may not have ever gone through the stones and found you.”

“We were fated mo ghràidh. Ye would have found yer way to the stones regardless because I was waiting for ye on the other side. I thank the day, Murtagh brought ye to me at the cabin.” He leaned towards his love and clasping her hand brought it to his lips placing a tender kiss to the top of her hand and knuckles.

Claire blushed at her love’s romantic gesture and looking at him explained about that night so long ago. “I remember seeing those Druids dancing. They were mesmerizing Jamie twirling in circles on top of the hill with their burning tapers. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the sight of them, but some small voice inside warned me I wasn't supposed to be there. That I was an unwelcome voyeur to something ancient and powerful.”

“Aye, ye were Sassenach, but that is the mystery of Samhain. It is all about the supernatural, witches, spirits and fire. During the celebrations, people dance around bonfires while the dances tell stories of life and death. What ye saw that night was something magical that drew you tae me.”

“I wouldn’t change anything Jamie except for you sending me back on the eve of Culloden, but we found each other again and that is all that counts.”

“Aye. You belong wi' me. We're mated for life Sassenach. I barley lived for those twenty years wi'out a heart when ye were gone. I lived half a man and accustomed myself to live in the bit that was left. Did ye feel the same?”

“Yes, I knew how that felt, and had it not been for Brianna I don’t know how I would have survived too. But I had you always close because our daughter was so like you Jamie. Your carved initial in the flesh of my palm was also a constant reminder of our love. It gave me comfort whenever I touched it. When I closed my eyes, I could feel you touching me.”

Claire looked at the man she adored thankful every day that they had been reunited and that their two-decade separation had been both painful and heart breaking for each of them. “It was lonely without you, so lonely.”

“And me,” Jamie replied pensively, his voice a soft whisper. “I saw ye so many times. You came to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes. When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely, I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, wi’ yer hair curling up about your face.” He paused before an outpouring of emotion surfaced. “During that time apart, I prayed every day that you and our bairn would be safe, for whether I’m dead or you, whether we’re together or apart Claire, I will always love ye.”

“And I you, Jamie.”

“Samhain was the beginning of our destiny Sassenach. A pagan, Gaelic festival brought us together.” He kissed her palm and rested it on his heart.

Claire could feel his heart beating and her eyes misted over just thinking about the significance of this special time of the year. “All I know of Samhain is what Mrs Baird told us. Please tell me more Jamie.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Samhain is a three-day celebration in preparation for winter mo ghràidh and a time for kin all around the Highlands tae come together and feast. People believe that deceased spirits and faeries of the Otherworld can easily come into our world, so ye would honour the dead and implore loved ones to bestow some blessing on them in return. Offerings of food and drink are left outside for the spirits, even portions of crops are left in the ground for them.”

Claire listened, attentive to everything that Jamie was telling her.

“Tricks and pranks are played but blamed on faeries and spirits ye ken. Children disguise themselves as evil spirits by blackening their faces and dressing in auld clothes to go guising door-to-door reciting songs and verses in exchange for food.”

“Why do they blacken their faces?”

“’Twas so that they can venture out safely wi’out being detected by wicked spirits in hope of fooling them and to scare away the ghouls who might want tae harm them.”

“It is so like what happens at Halloween in the future too Jamie. A lot of Scots came to America in the 20th Century and brought these customs with them and they evolved to become extremely popular. There are many similarities to Samhain but also some differences too. In the future people dress up in masks and spooky costumes and the children go Trick or Treating for sweets.”

“Aye, it would seem so mo nighean donn. Samhain and Halloween do seem verra similar.”

“Mrs Baird said that you needed to be mindful for ghosts are freed on the feast days and wander about, free to do good or ill as they please.”

“’Tis true Sassenach. I myself have not seen a tannasg, but there are tales of others who have.”

“A tannasg? What, in Heaven’s name is that, Jamie?”

“Oh, a Dhia … where tae begin,” he exclaimed running his hand over his chin in thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taking a deep breath as if calming himself before he started to explain, Jamie picked up his cup of ale and took a big swig before beginning. He looked at Claire as she waited for his explanation.

“Some say a tannasg is a balding, six-foot-tall, hairy, Celtic beastie, normally only found wandering around the hills and glens at night. Some say it is eerily like a fogy mist that covers the moors on a dark night and is what ye may call an apparition, a spirit or a shadowy ghost figure. Nobody really kens what it is but, nae matter, a tannasg is verra scary and if you come upon one when out in the glens ye must be verra careful. Sometimes it’s an unfriendly faerie or nymph who may have been holding onto a grudge and means tae cause trouble. A tannasg would put the fear of the Almighty in ye and scare ye witless. If ye ever were to meet one it would make yer hair stand up like a man’s cock in the mornin’ Sassenach.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! I’m scared with just the description of one.”

“And so ye should be a leannan. They are verra scary beasties that ye wouldna want to meet.”

“Oh, I do love hearing a scary ghost story Jamie. Can you tell me any about tannasgs?”

Claire watched as his lip curved up into a smile. He had that twinkle in his eyes that she knew so well whenever he was going to tell a story.

“Aye, I will. Sit yerself down by the fire and I’ll tell ye one that ma da told us wee bairns that scairt us truly.”

Settling down more comfortably in her chair, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and waited for her husband to retell the tale told to him, his brother William and sister Jenny long, long ago.

“I can tell ye a frightfully spooky tale of the past. It’s a spine-chilling story guaranteed tae give you a good thrill and chill ye to the bones.”

“I think I best have a wee dram of whisky ready for the story you are about to tell then James Fraser.”

“Aye …” He picked up his cup of ale and they both took a wee sip of their drinks. “Sláinte. Are ye ready Sassenach?”

“I am.” Claire curled her feet up in the chair whilst Jamie began to tell the tale of the tannasg.

“My father loved telling this story.”

She watched as a muted glow descended over Jamie’s face as the light from the fire fell across his features and highlighted the animation she could see on his face and in his eyes. Claire looked at him waiting with bated breath ready for him to retell this tale, for she knew that she was going to enjoy this story very much indeed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Tis the story of a man who was afraid of being alone in the dark and most mortally scairt of the spirits, ye ken, and how one night he met a tannasg. I remember when my da first told this story. I was mortally scairt too Sassenach.”

His body shuddered a little despite the heat in the room at the thought of the untold story he would tell. “I kept awake half the night, after he told us this tale, though it dinna seem to bother Jenny that much.”

“Oh, my,” Claire uttered her voice eager to hear more. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes round with the wonder and intrigue that he would impart with his tale as Jamie began to recount his childhood story.

Settling himself in his seat by the fire, he sat back, his ale cup in hand. Thinking, he rubbed his hand across his chin collecting his thoughts. Jamie then smiled at his wife wryly glancing at her as he began to recount his tale of long ago.

“Ah, well, it was in the late, cold autumn in the Highlands, just when the season turns and the chill in the air tells ye the ground will be covered wi’ frost come morning.”

Rolling the pewter cup slowly between his hands, he stared down into the dark ale as though seeing those Scottish peaks in the pitch-black night and the mist that floated across the glens. Raising his eyes, he looked at Claire. She was hanging on each word and so he continued.

“Well Jock MacBride’s son brought back their kine from the glen that night, but there was one wee beast missing. The lad had hunted for it up the hills and down the dales but couldna find it anywhere, so his da sent the lad to milk the two others and set out himself tae look for the lost cow.”

“Go on …”

“The da went some distance, but his cottage behind him soon disappeared. When he looked back, he couldna see the light from the window anymore and there was no sound but the whistling of the wind. It was cold, but MacBride went on trapsing through the mud and heather as the ice crunched beneath his boots echoing in the stillness.”

Claire pulled her shawl around her shoulders. If her husband could see her eyes, he would have seen that her pupils were decidedly larger. She was so engrossed with his story thus far and took another wee sip of her drink. With eyes fixed on Jamie, she couldn’t wait to hear more of his tale.

“Soon up ahead of him, Jock saw a small grove through the mist and thinking the cow might have taken shelter beneath the trees, he went toward it. However, the trees were birches, standing there with nae a leaf, and with their branches all gnarled together, so he bent his head to squeeze beneath the boughs.”

“What did he see when he got through the branches Jamie?”

“He came into the grove Sassenach, and saw it was not a grove at all, but a circle of trees. There were great tall trees, spaced verra evenly all around him and smaller ones too wi’ saplings grown up in between the trees to make a wall of thick branches. In the centre of the circle stood a cairn.”

Claire felt as though a sliver of cold ice had just slid down her spine. She got chills listening to him and shivered imagining the scene, for his picture was very real in her mind. She had seen ancient cairns in the Highlands herself that Jamie had just described and found them eerie enough in the broad light of day, let alone to see one at night. That would have been quite spooky indeed.

Jamie was getting that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach he remembered feeling as a bairn when his father had told this tale. He looked over at Claire and she had an expression of foreboding for what he may say next on her face that he’d had too. He took a sip of ale to loosen his vocal cords for his mouth was dry before continuing.

“He felt quite queer did Jock MacBride, for he kent the place, everyone did and kept well away from it. It was strange and it seemed even worse in the dark and the cold than it did in the daylight. It was an auld cairn the kind laid wi’ chunks of rock all heaped round with stones. He was scairt, but he slowly glanced up, and saw before him the black opening of a tomb.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! Was there a tannasg in there?”

Her husband gave her a piercing look. Jamie knew that Claire’s mind was thinking ahead and knew that he was getting close to revealing what Jock had seen.

“He knew it was a place that no man should come, and he was without a powerful charm to ward off any spirits. Jock had naught but a wooden cross about his neck, so he crossed himself with it and turned tae go.”

Jamie paused to take another sip of his ale to catch his breath. Claire saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed and reached instinctively for her own cup with eyes fixed on her beloved. Holding her breath, she gasped, “Don’t stop there. What happened next?”

Giving her the semblance of a wink and a wry grin, he paused then spoke softly stating, “As Jock went from the grove … he heard footsteps behind him.”

“No…!” she exclaimed.

“He dinna turn to see, but kept walking and the steps kept pace wi’ him, step by step always following. Jock came through the peat where the water seeps up and it was covered with ice, the weather bein’ so cold ye ken. MacBride could hear the peat crunch under his feet and behind him the cr-ack! cr-ack! of the breaking ice.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

James Fraser was a natural born storyteller, animated and engaging like most Scots were and listening to him speak reminded Claire of their wedding night and the awkwardness between them. She remembered him saying, “You’re a Fraser now Sassenach. You must learn to tell a story and listen to one.” So, to put her at ease, he’d told her story after story of his family and his life growing up and she in turn had told him about her life too. Her husband was in his element telling this story just like on the night they wed. She knew, that Jamie was aware that she hung on his every word and was eager to hear the rest of the story. The tension was building and placing her legs to the floor, Claire removed her shawl as it was getting warmer in the room and leaned forward eager to hear more of his tale.

“Jock MacBride walked and walked through the cold dark night watching ahead for the light of his own window where his wife had set the candle. But the light never showed and he began tae fear he had lost his way among the heather and the dark hills.”

“The tassasg was following him?”

“Aye, he was Sassenach. All the time the steps kept pace with him echoing loud in his ears. At last Jock could bear it no more and seizing hold of the cross he wore round his neck he swung about wi’ a great cry tae face whatever followed.”

There was apprehension in her voice for poor Jock. “What did he see?”

Jamie glanced at Claire and when next he spoke, his voice was so quiet, almost like a whisper, that she needed to concentrate to hear what he was saying.

“It was a figure like a man, but with no body. It was all white like it might have been made of the mist, but wi’ great holes where its eyes should be. They were black and empty and fit tae draw the soul from MacBride’s body with fear.”

Claire gasped with a cry of anguish at the description, and placed her hand across her mouth. “What did he do Jamie?

“Jock held up his cross before his face and he prayed aloud to the Blessed Virgin,” he said leaning forward intently. “The thing came no nearer Claire, but stayed there watching him.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dim firelight outlined her husband’s profile in a halo of golden aura which made his rustic hair seem like it had flecks of gold and crimson sprinkled in it as well. Suddenly, she was a little distracted by the man and was mesmerized by his intoxicating Scottish drawl. Claire’s eyes glazed over overcome with feelings for the virile man whose silhouette was oh so tempting in the fire’s glow, but also for poor Jock MacBride and how he would get out of his predicament. She held her breath and waited for what would happen next.

“And so, he began to walk backwards not daring to turn around again. Jock walked backward stumbling and slipping in an effort to get away from the spirit, fearing every moment that he might tumble into a burn or down a cliff and break his neck, but fearing worse tae turn his back on the cold thing.”

“I would have done the same Jamie. Better to watch the tannasg than not to know where it was,” she added with a little shiver of dread for the poor Jock MacBride.

“He couldna tell how long he’d walked only that his legs were trembling wi’ weariness. Then at last he caught a glimpse of a light through the mist, for there was his own cottage wi’ the candle in the window. Jock cried out in joy and turned to his door, but the cold thing was quick and slipit past him tae stand between him and the door.”

“Oh no!”

“Dinna fash Sassenach, his wife had been watching out for him and when she heard him cry out, she came to the door at once. Jock shouted to her not to come out but to go and fetch a charm to drive away the tannasg. Quick as could be, Bessie MacBride snatched the pot from beneath her bed and a twig of myrtle tied with ribbons that she’d made to bless the cows. She dashed the water against the doorposts and the cold thing leapt upward straddlin’ the door’s beam. Her husband quick as a flash, rushed beneath and bolted the door shut tight. He stayed inside in his wife’s arms until the dawn hoping that the tannasg would nae come inside the cottage. They let the candle burn all the night and Jock never again left his house past sunset.”

Claire sighed as Jamie finished speaking. “Did they find the cow?” she queried, keen to know the fate of the lost kine.

With a raised eyebrow he answered, “Oh, aye they did. The next morning, they found the poor beast wi’ her hooves all clogged wi’ mud and stones. It was staring mad and frothy about the muzzle. Her sides were heavin’ fit to burst. Jock said that she looked as though she’d been ridden tae Hell and back.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!” Claire exclaimed imagining the visual of what had happened to the poor cow.

Jamie glanced at his wife to see her reaction to his tale. “Did ye like it?”

“Like it? … I loved it Jamie. It kept me in suspense all the way through.”

“Thank ye Sassenach. I’m glad ye liked it,” he replied very pleased with himself.

PART 2 … Halloween Addams Family style. 🎃

“So, what about you Claire? Do ye have a tale tae tell as well?”

“As a matter of fact, I do Jamie, and when I’ve caught my breath, I will tell you something about Halloween from the future. My tale will not be as scary as your story of Jock MacBride though,” she replied with a cheeky twinkle in her eye. “In fact, it is about something that you might find hard to wrap your head around.”

Intrigued with his wife’s words, Jamie sat back in his chair and waited for her to begin. With a curl of his lip and a sparkle in his eye he asked, “And what might that be Sassenach?”

“Television.”

His brow furrowed in thought and Jamie raised an eyebrow a little perplexed as he glanced at Claire. “Television? … Hmmph?” He tapped his fingers against his thigh in concentration and ran the word slowly over his tongue as if savouring a new morsel of information, he didn’t quite know enough about. “Television ye say.” He looked at Claire again in earnest anticipation and waited for her to explain.

“Oh dear…” she sighed. “Where to begin?” Collecting her thoughts on how to explain this invention to her husband, Claire finally had an idea. “Remember when you rescued me from the Witch Trial and I told you I was from the future?”

“Aye, I remember mo ghràidh.”

“Well this is another one of those things from the future too. It is something from my time. You've never heard of it. No one here has, that is except for Bree and Roger.”

He grinned at her statement of the obvious. “Well then, I may not understand it a bit, not yet, but I trust ye. I trust yer word; yer heart and there is a truth between us. So ... whatever you tell me ... I will believe ye, Sassenach. Tell me more.”

Claire bit her lip before she spoke. “Do you also remember the photographs I brought back to show you of Brianna?”

Jamie made a small inarticulate sound, “Aye I remember.”

He remembered all too well Claire taking a small packet from her clothing, to show him the photographs of their beloved daughter Brianna, a fine boned, and delicate replica of himself. He looked up at his wife wondering what the correlation may be with the photographs and this television.

“Well television is those pictures brought to life.”

He remembered how he had splayed his hand out over the photographs, with trembling fingers not quite touching the shiny surface. How was it possible that pictures could be brought to life? He was a little perplexed.

“Television is a machine with a small screen that shows moving pictures and sounds. They were commonplace in many households in Boston during the 60’s and we had one too. The word "television" comes from the words …”

But before she could finish what she wanted to say Jamie butted in with his knowledge of the Greek language.

“Tele is the Greek word for far away, and vision would mean sight.”

A smile softened her lips, “Yes, that’s right.”

He shook his head in disbelief when Claire described something so unfathomable that it was hard to believe some such machine existed. He didn't understand it all, but he listened. Claire had risked bringing the photographs of Brianna through the stones and thus brought something of the 20th century into the 18th century. However, although still a little mystified, nothing she had told him about the future fazed him now and he believed her despite how inconceivable what she was saying could be.

“Television was used for family entertainment and we would sit around in our parlour and watch the screen.” Claire’s voice was animated when she next spoke. “There was a program on the television that you would have loved Jamie, called The Addams Family. Brianna and I loved that show.”

He grinned. “I would verra much have liked to see this television program too Sassenach.” If they loved it, he knew he would love it too.

“They were not your typical family; they took delight in most of the things of which normal people would be terrified. They were kooky and eccentric but they were a very close-knit, extended family.”

“Ah, so just like us here on Fraser’s Ridge Sassenach,” he replied giving her a huge, big smile.

“Yes, I guess, but there was one difference though Jamie, they had decidedly macabre interests and supernatural abilities.”

He balked at that. “Oh, indeed they wouldna fit in well in this time then. People believe in witches and things that go bump in the night, but they wouldna understand them at all. They would have their heads on a pike before ye could count tae ten.”

Although Claire nodded in agreement at what her husband was saying for that was exactly what had happened to her. As he spoke, she was momentarily distracted with thoughts of what had happened in Cranesmuir at the Witch Trial when she was tried and convicted of witchcraft.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

People’s superstitions of anything they didn’t quite understand, especially a person like her was met with fear for they thought her a witch. At the trial, the crowd was baying for blood and wanted to burn her at the stake, and had Jamie not rescued her, that would have been her fate. Nonetheless, he was a little skeptical as well because he’d seen the “devil’s mark” on her arm too. He had calmly asked if she was a witch, because what she had told him was far-fetched. His face throughout her admission was inscrutable and he’d sighed, then smiled ruefully down at her. She remembered their conversation well,

“Claire, are ye a witch?”

“I’m not a witch. Do you really believe me, Jamie?”

“Aye, I believe ye, Sassenach. But it would ha’ been a good deal easier if you’d only been a witch.”

“And if I were? If you had thought I were a witch? Would you still have fought for me?”

“I would have gone to the stake with you, and to hell beyond, if I must!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Claire? … Claire?” Jamie said a little louder as she had been quiet for so long that he was a little concerned for where her mind must have gone, but on reflection it was probably to the Witch Trial when he’d rescued her and she had told him she was from the future.

“Oh, I’m sorry Jamie, I lost my train of thought there for a moment.”

“Nae matter … So, mo chridhe, ye were saying?”

Claire let her husband’s endearment wash over her. Jamie was always so attuned to her feelings and giving him a tentative smile, continued to explain about the Addams family members. “Their mother and uncle lived with them and their children, plus they had a 7-foot-tall butler … their man servant called Lurch, and a disembodied hand that lived in a box called Thing.”

Jamie shook his head, as what Claire was saying was becoming more fanciful, but he kept an open mind as she described more.

“The husband, Gomez Addams was an extremely wealthy man and was able to indulge his wife Morticia's every desire, whether it was cultivation of poisonous plants or a candlelit dinner in a graveyard.”

He raised his eyebrow again at this piece of information. “That sounds verra interesting,” he murmured somewhat amazed.

Claire smiled indulgently at her love. “You are very much like him. He was very romantic and he was madly in love with his wife and loved her to distraction.”

“As do I you, mo ghràidh,” before adding, “I think I should like this Gomez fellow.”

She beamed at him once more as Jamie seemed pleased as punch at what he had just said.

He then blessed himself. “A Dhia! But … I willna have dinner wi’ ye in a graveyard, mo luaidh even wi’ candlelight,” he muttered under his breath. He chuckled at the thought of that idea, especially after having just told her the story of the tannasg who had come out of his tomb. No, he could not come at doing that.

“I agree. I don’t think I would like to do that either, but Gomez and Morticia did. They also had pet names for each other, Jamie.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His ears pricked up once more when she said this, knowing that his Claire had several endearing names that he called her. He sighed his voice a little raspy, “Aye, I do that too Sassenach.”

Her smile was soft and dreamy for the loving man she had married, then she told him some extra information. “Despite what I have just said, this television show was very entertaining and so amusing. It had unconventional humour, sex appeal, the breaking and questioning of the conventions of conformity at the time, as well as looking at the world in a unique, offbeat frame of mind.”

“Well then, tell me more mo muirninn. I am an educated man as ye ken, and I can see that perhaps these Addams people were different but nae different from our family. Do they have something tae do wi’ Halloween then?”

“Oh indeed. Halloween was their favourite time of the year and they would bob for crabs instead of apples as most people would do. You see, they were not a conventional family. They dressed differently to everyone else, they were weird looking and they had peculiar idiosyncrasies. They even lived near a cemetery at 0001 Cemetery Lane in an ornate, gloomy mansion.”

Jamie poured himself a whisky this time and laughed as her descriptions of this family were getting more and more unusual. He refilled Claire’s cup as well and handed it to her, then sat back in his chair to hear more.

“Oh, Jamie I wish that you could have seen it. You would have loved all the characters but particularly Gomez Addams. Bree and I would laugh so much. They were so funny.”

Claire paused a little as if thinking about something she remembered then looking at her husband with a mischievous expression on her face asked, “Jamie? Can you click your fingers? Like this?” She then demonstrated a click! click! sound.

“I may not be able tae wink, but I can click my fingers ye ken Sassenach.”

She began to set the scene for her tale of the Addams Family. “Well then … Every time I say … da-da-da-da … you click your fingers okay?”

“Okay, I can do that mo nighean donn.”

“I will sing you the theme song that would play when the television show came on screen but I’m going to replace their family name with ours, however, … the da-da-da-da was really played on a harpsichord, but I’m going to improvise.”

Claire grinned at her love and saw that Jamie was prepared and a little excited to know more of the Halloween tale she was about to unleash on him. “Are ye ready?”

“Always.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

“Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da” … click! click

Claire repeated the chorus … as Jamie was thoroughly enjoying himself while getting into the swing of things with gusto.

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

“Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da” … click! click

“They're creepy and they're kooky. Mysterious and spooky. They're altogether together ookey. The Fraser Family.

The house is a museum. When people come to see 'em. They really are a scre-am. The Fraser Family.

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

Neat

“Da-da-da-da” … click! click!

Sweet

“Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da” … click! click

Petite

So, get a witch's shawl on. A broomstick you can crawl on. We're going to pay a call on. The Fraser Family.

They both fell back against their chairs laughing out loud as Claire finished the theme song and Jamie clicked the refrain part with enthusiasm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I see what ye meant earlier Sassenach, so, tell me more about the husband Gomez and his wife Morticia.”

“Gomez was the patriarch of the family, just like you Jamie. He was a very dashing man who loved to wear pinstriped suits.”

She saw his puzzled look and explained. “Clothing was very different in the 60’s to what it is now, but he was as dashing as you were in Paris. Suits are a two-piece garment, long breeks and a jacket cut to the hip, made from the same material and worn together. Gomez Addams smoked cigars and had a very quirky moustache. I’ll ask Brianna to draw you some pictures of the family if you like.”

Jamie nodded in reply to her statement for he loved the drawings Brianna did, and although he could picture them in his imagination, seeing a picture of the family would make them really come to life.

Claire knew that her husband would relish this next piece of information. “He adored Morticia and would call her Cara Mia, Querida, Querida Mia, Tish, or Cara Bella.”

“Hmmph? … Querida is Spanish for "the woman I desire.” I can relate tae that Sassenach,” Jamie replied with a sharp look that made her heart skip a little beat. “I see now why ye think we are alike,” he proclaimed with a penetrating gleam in his eye. “And his wife?”

“She was very beautiful with long flowing, straight, raven coloured hair. Morticia was described as a witch; she was slim, with extremely pale skin.”

“A witch ye say? … a Dhia Claire! … It’s just like people called you because of yer healing powers. I am seeing more parallels here … Querida,” he added in that sexy voice that always thrilled her.

Claire nearly lost her train of thought when her husband called her Querida and she bit her lip in response to the endearment once more. “Stop interrupting me James Fraser, I’m trying to tell you my Halloween story.”

“Duilich … Sorry Sassenach, but I am just imagining the things ye are saying just like you saw on the … television. Tell me more about this Morticia Addams.”

“Her black dress matched her hair and it was skin tight and figure hugging with a fringe of octopus-like cloth "tentacles" at the lower hem that pooled around her feet.”

“That’s quite an outfit you have on there lady?” one of the robbers said to her Jamie.

“I always wear this for Halloween.”

“Looks great. Real good for Halloween,” he replied thinking that she was wearing a costume but it was her actual clothing.

“Is that so? Anything else …Tish?” Jamie grinned cheekily doing a mental checklist of the romantic names Gomez had called his wife.

“Morticia could easily excite her husband by speaking French and other languages. Her pet names for him were Bubula, Mon Cherie and Querido.”

“Ah, Querido, the Spanish word for "the man I desire." I like that too Claire. Ye can call me that at any time my … Cara Mia.”

She blushed a little more at another one of Morticia’s pet names her husband had called her and felt a hot flush warm her cheeks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, Sassenach tell me about the Halloween story ye and Brianna loved watching on yer television about the Addams Family.”

“Well Gomez received a new carving knife in the mail and used it to carve out a pumpkin with the face of his Uncle Fester on it for Halloween. They would put a candle in it to light it up at night and the face would shine through the holes in the Jack-o-lantern. This is very common in the future and people in Boston would put their carved pumpkins on their doorsteps at Halloween. It was a fun thing to do and they would also decorate their houses with ghoulish things.”

“‘Tis similar to Samhain too Claire but people use turnips. I guess a pumpkin would be easier tae carve though,” he proclaimed. “Tell me more.”

“Their children, Wednesday and Pugsley, dressed up and went trick or treating with their Grandmama for sweets and treats that they would collect from their neighbours. While they were out two robbers who were escaping from the police … took refuge in the Addams family garden. Thinking they were their Halloween guests, they were invited inside for a Halloween party but unfortunately, they tried to steal money from the family instead of enjoying their hospitality. When they saw inside their spooky house they exclaimed,

“You folks sure don’t hold back on Halloween.”

“It’s our favourite holiday.”

Then Gomez said, “Gentlemen come here and I’ll give you a treat. Open your bag. They didn’t want to show him what was in there because it had the stolen money in it.”

“What happened next Claire?” Jamie asked thinking this story of the future was a little bizarre but extremely interested in her Halloween story of a show she had watched on television.

“Now, now, there’s nothing to be scared of, I think it’s kind of heart-warming that adults get into the Halloween spirit, and when Gomez opened their bag, he found it was full of money, and he assumed that their neighbours had given them cash for a Trick or Treat. He took out several hundreds of dollars from an open drawer and gave it to them. The robbers’ eyes widened with surprise and decided to hatch a plan to steal all the money and their valuables from them.”

“Did the Addams’ ken they were planning tae steal their valuables?”

“No, they were in the kitchen getting refreshments, and whilst Morticia was stirring the punch, her husband Gomez became quite amorous towards her.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This story now was just getting more fascinating for James Fraser by the minute. He smiled at his Claire and asked a little provocatively, “Tell me more Sassenach. What did he do … in the kitchen?”

She was a little tongue tired especially with the way the man she desired was looking at her, but she ventured on regardless to how her insides were all fluttering with tingling feelings that she felt to the very core of her being. When Jamie was in this amorous mood, she was putty in his hands. How was she ever going to tell him what happened next, she thought, but she did.

“When Morticia called him “Bubula … darling” … he took her hand in both of his and kissed it before caressing each finger with his lips beginning at the little pinkie, then the ring finger, and then each other finger after that, until her whole hand had been caressed. It was something he always did.”

Jamie’s eyes were smouldering. “How did she react tae that ... Querida?” he murmured with a little raspy grunt.

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Morticia swooned at the attention her husband was giving her and replied … When we are together darling, every night is Halloween.”

Claire was starting to swoon a little herself. She was feeling a little hot and bothered, and bit her lip as Jamie’s gaze washed over her with intent, but she continued with her story. Her husband knew exactly what he was doing with the way he was looking at her, and he couldn’t be more interested in what would Gomez Addams do next. Jamie hung on each word that came out of her mouth.

“Go on … Sass-en-ach.”

Her mouth was getting a little dry, so Claire took a wee sip of her whisky to also compose herself before she went on with her tale.

“Then while his arm was around her waist, and holding out her arm, Gomez slowly ran his lips up the length of it, kissing across the back of her neck … her shoulder, then down her back and …”

“Aye? And … then what?”

“The punch exploded!”

Jamie couldn’t help himself. He was not expecting Claire to say that, and doubling over in mirth, he burst out laughing as too did she. The happy, raucous sound echoed in his throat and their combined laughter loudly resonated in the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

However, James Fraser suddenly stopped laughing.

Looking up, Claire saw the explicit intent in her husband’s eyes that always made her catch her breath. She watched; eyes fixated on her virile man as he rose from his chair and made his way over to where she was sitting. Jamie was now standing in front of her chair. He reached out his hand towards her, then placing her hand in his grasp, he slowly pulled Claire up and out of the chair until she was but a hair’s breath away from him. She could feel the solidness of her husband’s chest.

“So, mo nighean donn, what happened tae the robbers?”

“I … ahh, … I … don’t re-member,” she mumbled, tripping over her words as Jamie’s penetrating gaze held her eyes captive with a look that had her feeling quite breathless.

Claire could feel the warmth of his breath as her love quietly spoke seductively against her lips. “I see … Well then ... What were ye sayin’ about what Gomez Addams was doing tae his wife … Sass-en-ach?”

Lost in the suggestive look that Jamie was bestowing on her, Claire Fraser found it difficult to breathe let alone speak as she felt the gentle but scorching touch of lips brushing against her own.

“Ahhh … Ahhh …” she murmured incoherently. “He kissed … her hand.”

“What? … Like this?”

Placing his arm around Claire’s waist, Jamie held out her right arm and proceed to place warm, fervent kisses to the top of her hand before trailing them down to her little pinkie finger.

“Ye-yes…” she purred closing her eyes in the bliss of his seduction.

Soft, warm lips lathed the small digit before continuing on to her ring finger. His lips started at the tip of her fingernail drawing it into his mouth before releasing her finger. His tongue then skimmed up and over her knuckle to where his wedding ring, a silver band with a small thistle bloom carved in the centre of each intertwined Highland pattern, lay nestled against her skin. Jamie’s lips hovered over the ring, stopping as his eyes observed his token of love on his Sassenach's finger. Jamie hesitated for a moment, then bent his head over it, his lips barely brushing over her knuckles once more before they touched the silver ring and stopped there for one moment of remembrance.

At the same time, suddenly Claire’s thoughts returned to that day in the hospital recalling when Frank had tried to twist it off her finger and the panic that she’d felt. The guttural sound she’d made was heart wrenching and she’d jerked her hand away and cradled it, fisted, beneath her breast cupped in her left hand.

“I never took it off … mon Cherie,” she whispered, the love in her voice caressing Jamie’s ears as much as his lips had caressed her hand.

This ring was special to her and she had never taken it off even over the twenty years they had been parted. During those long, aching years of separation, it was one of her very, very few tangible reminders of Jamie. The Latin phrase that he’d engraved inside her wedding ring was a brief quotation from a love song by Catullus, and she had recited it so many, many times just thinking of her love when she closed her eyes at night.

Jamie’s lips found and touched the silver ring once more before his tongue slid from one side of the ring to the other. His ring which she wore on this finger since the day they had wed was special to him. It was his ultimate love token to the woman who had stolen his heart from the very moment he had laid eyes on her at Samhain time. This ring spoke to him and was a reaffirmation of how solid was their love and how strong their bond was.

Her eyes were closed, and Claire knew without looking, that Jamie’s were, as well.

“Da Mi Basia Mille, diende centum, dein mille altera, dein secunda centum …” he murmured, smiling before opening his eyes to stare piercingly at his love as he translated the Latin. “Then let amorous kisses dwell on our lips, begin and tell, a thousand and a hundred score, a hundred …”

Claire’s eyes blurred with tears. Placing her hand at the nape of Jamie’s neck, she fisted it in his glorious red hair, slowly twisting the curls between her fingers. "Dein mille altera … then give me a thousand more,” she uttered breathlessly clearing her throat.

He brushed away the tear that had trickled down her cheek with his finger, but two more welled up and overflowed; she felt them, full and round, roll down her cheeks.

This poignant romantic moment of remembrance between them was suddenly so overwhelming, that she felt her eyes well up once again. The reality of the power of their love and connection made the fictional one between Gomez Addams and his wife Morticia pale in comparison. Perhaps the show she had watched when back in the future was a reminder to her of who she missed terribly and how much she missed so achingly the sensuous kisses that her beloved husband had given her. Suddenly, she was overcome with emotion as Jamie continued to display his amorous kisses to her hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

However, he soon sensed that his Claire was feeling wistful.

“Cl-aire?” Jamie’s voice was gentle and his utterance of her name, spoken in tenderness, nearly made her break down again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Are ye okay mo ghràidh? What’s the matter? Am I not doin’ this right, like Gomez Addams?”

“Oh, Jamie, … You are doing this … so much better … than he ever could my love.”

Slowly he drew her close to him, taking both hands and holding their linked fingers just under his breast to where Claire could feel his heart beating in his chest. Jamie held his love close for a quiet moment and kissed the top of her head as it lay nestled against him. Placing his finger under her chin, he lifted Claire’s face up to his, then cupping her beautiful cheeks with exquisite gentleness, he set his mouth on hers.

“I like yer Halloween story verra much mo ghràidh, in fact I like it sae much that I think we could … continue it in our bedroom. What say ye … Querida Mia?” … He kissed his wife’s cheek … “Cara Bella,” … and then her other special name … “Sor-cha,” … Jamie muttered against Claire’s lips before trailing them down her throat in an assault that had her losing consciousness in his arms.

“Per-haps … we … could …” was her garbled reply spoken against his hot mouth as she wound her arms around her husband’s neck. Her eyes glazed over with emotion for this wonderful man as she succumbed to the sweet surrender of his embrace. Jamie’s eyes too were shining with passion as he lifted Claire up into his arms and carried his love into their bedroom.

“This has been a verra good night Sassenach and one I think could be repeated each Samhain.”

“I approve … Querido,” she murmured seductively against his ear and cupping his cheek with her hand.

Touching foreheads, Jamie’s lips hovered over hers and he smiled with such a wicked look that Claire couldn’t help but smile too knowing that whatever came out of her husband’s mouth would be something profound. However, she was not expecting his reply with the phrase Morticia Addams had spoken on the television program.

“When we are together darling … every night is Halloween. Now, I want to take ye to bed, and I mean to spend the rest of the night thinking what to do to ye once I’ve got ye there.”

Then James Fraser proceeded to demonstrate the many ways that this Fraser husband showed his wife how he would seduce her every night … but twice on Samhain and Halloween.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Addams Family Theme - Vic Mizzy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ5IWRz78DY

Halloween with the Addams family (full episode)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LavY2K3-Vhs

Endearment Translations:

Claire Fraser

mo chridhe - my heart

mo muirninn - my darling

mo luaidh - my darling, my dear.

a leannan - sweetheart, or beautiful woman

Sorcha – brightness

mo ghràidh – darling

mo nighean donn - my brown-haired lass

Morticia Addams

Cara Mia - my beloved

Cara Bella – pretty face

Querida - the woman I desire.

Querida Mia – beloved

Tish – strong willed

Gomez Addams

Bubula – sweetheart

Mon Cherie - dear heart, my dear love.

Querido - dear

#samhain #halloween #James Fraser #clairefraser #the addams family #2020 #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfic

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shiroganeryo · 3 years ago

Note

I only saw now that you reblogged that sweet and pure ask thing. So here goes: 🐰🌸🍯🕊️

Bunnyyyy thank you for dropping an ask! 🥺💖 It took me a while to get to it because I've been so exhausted it's not even funny, but here we go!

⭐ Sweet and pure asks

🐰 Do you believe in soul mates? Why, yes! I believe very strongly that there's a reason for everything in our lives, both the good and the bad, so that belief also applies to the ones we cross paths with. I can't really put my exact feelings about it into words because this would get very long and contemplative while I try to explain - and possibly fail - how I feel about it.

Keeping it as simple as I can, I get very emotional over this concept. Because no matter what happens, two beings share such a strong bond, that they'll always meet; there's no other word for that other than fate. And let me tell you, I'm very temperate, skeptical even, when it comes to believing in things such as fate and the predestined.

Some beings simply belong by each other's side. It's like when their time of parting from this realm comes, they won't wave each other goodbye, but rather, say "see you soon".

This feeling of belonging is a precious concept to me. I feel like I can be certain that no matter whom I lose, we'll definitely meet again one day...

🌸 What is your favorite flower? I'm very fond of dandelions, forget-me-nots, and red roses. I'm a plain person. Flower language interests me a lot, but this fondness dates back to old times when I was just a dumb, impressionable kid hahaha So it doesn't have to do with their meanings - but they are very neat, too!

🍯 Describe your favorite smell That's hard to put into words because I like the "smell of the wind". The smell of when a fresh breeze blows and I can feel the smell of the "air", the plants, together with the sound of the rustling leaves of the trees. It makes me feel "home". I'm extremely allergic to perfumes and stuff of the sort, so I'm not a fan of anything that smells too strongly. Oh! I also like the smell of my spouse and my cat.

🕊️ 3 habits you have? Let me see... The first one that comes to my mind is washing my hands. Jesus Christ, I've always washed my hands a lot and because of that, I currently have fingerprints so faint, many of those biometric systems can't recognize it orz

Another habit of mine is that, despite being a quiet person, I have the habit of becoming long-winded when it comes to explaining or sharing my knowledge on something. I tend to elongate it too much because I want to make sure I'm being clear enough to be understood with no information gaps, especially if I'm giving any kind of advice so the person has all information they need to take the better decision for them or make better use of the things they just learned about. I don't mind coming up with different ways of explaining something either if needed, even if it makes the conversation even longer, I just want to be helpful. That can become a hassle, though, if the person grows tired of when people can't simply go straight to the point. This is something I find myself unable to do, I have zero summarizing skills.

See how this simple explanation got quite long? Yep haha

And for a third one... I have the habit of saving my drawing files once per 5 minutes or so. This one is kind of compulsive at this rate, because I do it very autonomously. I've lost some important drawings in the past and back then there were no good backup options in drawing programs. It's not the case anymore, but... You never know... *squints eyes*

#ask #tag game #these questions are so innocent #I feel like my soul has been cleansed

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

Text

February 2, 2021: Pretty Woman (1990)

ALL RISE FOR THE KING AND QUEEN OF ROMANCIA!

First, we bow to the Actor King of Romancia, Richard Gere. Gere is a DYNAMO of romantic movies, having starred in The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, American Gigolo, An Officer and a Gentleman, Sommersby, Autumn in New York, Chicago, Shall We Dance?, Runaway Bride, and of course, Pretty Woman. He was crowned king of this fictionation both because of his film prowess, and because DUDE HAS DATED A LOT OF FAMOUS PEOPLE GODDAMN

Second, we bow to the Actress Queen of Romancia, Julia Roberts.

Roberts’ resume is equally romantic, including films such as Notting Hill, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Eat Pray Love, Steel Magnolias, Mystic Pizza, Runaway Bride, and of course, Pretty Woman. She was crowned queen of this fictionation because, I mean...it’s Julia Roberts, man. Who else was gonna be queen, Meg Ryan? She’s too busy ruling the Holy Romance Empire.

Yes. Yes, I will be visiting the Holy Romance Empire soon.

Anyway, one of the advisors to this great land was the now sadly passed Garry Marshall, a seasoned romantic movie director, responsible for The Princess Diaries (and its terrible sequel), Beaches, Runaway Bride (shit, should I watch this one?), and those bad holiday romance movies from the late 2000′s. You know, Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Mother’s Day? Yeah, that’s the guy.

Marshall was appointed an advisor of Romancia because of his role as director of the film...you know.

Enough navel-gazing; let’s get into Pretty Woman, shall we? I, for one, am looking forward to venturing further into the land of Romancia! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start at a party where...George Costanza?

Huh! Phil Stuckey (Jason Alexander), a lawyer and kind of an asshole, is romancing women at a party, held on the behalf of Edward Lewis (Richard Gere), a businessman from New York. However, he’s currently in California away from his unhappy girlfriend back east, who’s feeling a tad neglected by the constantly busy Edward.

Meanwhile, on a less-than-great side of town lives Vivian Ward (Julia Roberts), a prostitute working the mean streets of Hollywood. Making her way to the red-light district, she enters the Blue Banana Club (which is...a name, that’s for sure), where she finds her roommate Kit De Luca (Laura San Giacomo). Laura’s unfortunately spent their rent on drugs, during the height of the cocaine epidemic in Hollywood.

The two meet each other on the street, where Edward’s lost, and struggling with Phil’s stick-shift Lotus Espirit. She offers to give him directions for money, and he reluctantly accepts. She gets in, and guides him back to his hotel. As he struggles to drive, she displays her knowledge of cars from back home. He then offers to drive the car for him, and also shows her prowess as a driver. Which...is pretty neat.

He asks how much she makes in her profession, as the two roll up to his hotel. As they begin to part ways, he asks her instead to accompany him into the hotel. She’s about as charmed and gawky as I would be going into a sick-ass hotel like that. The elevator in it has a FUCKING SOFA INSIDE, YES PLEASE

Edward’s a little embarrassed by her gawking, but they quickly get past it. Edward’s graveyard-still complacency is contrasted by her manic pixie energy. Not that she’s a manic pixie dream girl...I think. It’s more of a “rock-and-balloon” relationship deal. When Vivian busts out the condoms (she’s a “safety-girl”), Edward instead says he wants to “talk.”

During this talk, it’s revealed that his girlfriend has officially broken up with him, leaving him conspicuously single. He asks if she can stay the entire night, and she agrees for a price, to which he gladly agrees. They spend the night getting to know each other, although Edward is doing business during much of it. And she’s watching TV, and it gives off these kinda weird daddy-daughter vibes (not kink-shaming, mind you), and it’s...mildly uncomfortable.

This quickly progresses into her beginning to seduce him, and the two presumably have sex. We cut away just before anything happens, though. Afterwards, Edward takes a shower, as Vivian falls asleep, taking her wig off for the first time.

The next morning, Edward talks to Phil about an upcoming business purchase, when Vivian walks into the room. He’s ordered breakfast for them. ALL OF THE BREAKFAST. Seriously, everything on the menu. Motherfucker, do you KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE ROOM SERVICE IS? WE GET IT YOU’RE RICH

He reveals just how rich he is, noting that he buys companies on the brink of failure, and then sells pieces of the companies he buys. Vivian equates this to a chop-shop, which seems extremely accurate. On another call, Phil tells him that it would be better if he had a date. And it looks like...he already has one.

Yeah, Phil “hires” Vivian to be his girlfriend for a week. For $3000, she accepts, and I feel just a little icky. And yet...I dunno, we’ll see. He’s doing this purely to avoid romantic attachment, which is a little weird, but understandable? Maybe?

At this point, we get one of the most iconic scenes in the film, as the uptight women at a Rodeo Drive store tell her to leave, like assholes. They’ll get their comeuppance, though. OHHHHHH, THEY’LL get it. This compounds when the hotel manager, Barnard “Barney” Thompson (Héctor Elizondo), questions her presence there. And while it seems that he’s going to kick her out, he actually helps her out with an outfit.

Meanwhile, Edward’s business deal begins to go somewhat south, until Edward takes advantage of GOVERNMENT CORRUPTION. Anyway, Vivian goes to a local department store, where Barney’s friend Bridget (Elinor Donahue) helps her out with a cocktail dress. When she heads back, Barney acts like a bro once again and teaches her proper etiquette, Emily Post style.

Edward heads back to the hotel, where Vivian is waiting for him. And she looks cuuuuuuuuuuute. Edward thinks so, too, and they head to the corporate dinner. There waitselderly businessman James Morse (Ralph Bellamy), and his grandson David (Alex Hyde-White). We get a taste of just how vicious of a businessman Edward is, and Vivian makes a much better impression on the Morses than Edward does. Also, Eddie’s kind of a sociopath, huh? Or, at least, he has some sociopathic tendencies. I dunno his pure emotionlessness is rubbing me a weird way.

After the dinner goes VIOLENTLY south, the two begin to relate to each other a bit more. He notes that he prefers not to bring emotion into business, although he apparently does like Mr. Morse. He also notes that his father died a month ago, but it doesn’t appear to affect him much. Still he heads downstairs to get some air. Later, Vivian gets the bellhop, Dennis (Patrick Richwood) to help her find him, and she does. He’s playing piano like a GODDAMN MANIAC HOLY SHIT! Just like, “Don’t mind me, I’m just playing an operetta to PUT THE KNIFE FEELINGS TO SLEEP IAMTHEZODIACKILLER.” This manic performance is followed by the two just...fuckin’ on the piano. They just FUCK IN THE LOUNGE RIGHT ON THAT PIANO JESUS CHRIST GUYS

The next morning, post-musex, they go to get outfits together, in which Gere buys a massive set of outfits, and we get the first makeover montage this month! He also flashes even more sociopathic flair with a clothing store owner, goddamn. And that’s...when we get the song.

youtube

I mean, we had to get this song in here at some point, right? She also engages in the most iconically HUGE moment of the film. You know what I’m talking about, and it’s beautifully cathartic, my Lord.

Meanwhile, at work, Edward’s starting to...lose it, I guess? As Phil’s encouraging him to close in on Morse for the kill, Edward’s beginning to grow a heart. And may I note that he’s been in this relationship for TWO DAYS. Jesus, buddy, you’ve really never had a meaningful relationship, huh? They eventually go to a polo match for business reasons, here Phil finally meets Vivian. Vivian also notices that none of the high-society people here seem like, well...friends.

Turns out that David Morse is one of the polo players, and Vivian starts to speak with him. Phil, meanwhile, notices this, and suspects her of being a corporate spy. And Edward, like an ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE, tells her that Vivian’s a prostitute. Phil LITERALLY IMMEDIATELY GOES AFTER HER, and solicits her like a fucking CREEP.

This obviously very much upsets her, and she chews Edward out back at the hotel. And the argument that follows IMMEDIATELY puts me on Vivian’s side, because Edward’s being a sociopathic douchenozzle. Goddamn. She rightfully wants to leave, and he just lets her. And here’s the real kicker; she doesn’t take the money.

And that’s when Edward sincerely apologizes to her, as best as he can. And yeah, he’s a little sociopathic, but I can see that the dude is trying? The two make up, and once again open up to each other. Edward starts to realize, in turn, that he legitimately has feelings for her. And we head into the third act of the film.

The next day, Edward leaves work early to go on a date with Vivian, and Phil asks if the date is with “the hooker.” And Edwards flashes him a look that’s just...knifey. I’m still not convinced he isn’t the Zodiac Killer. He takes her to an opera in San Francisco, before which we get this scene.

Adorable. God, I love Vivian. Also Dennis and Barney are the best, and they’re super fucking invested, and I am HERE for it. Their date to the opera is...sublime. Understand, my girlfriend and I watched this entire film together, and we’re both in love with Vivian and the opera after it. Imma take her to the opera on a date one of these days, I swear it.

That night, they play chess together, and Edward actually takes the following day off. He also actually sleeps in a bed for once, instead of going to work. And this is when my girlfriend the following phrase:

Is he sculpting her, or is she sculpting him?

OK, that fantastic question is one of the reasons we’re together, but also a very interesting point. Lemme explain here. This is very much a Pygmalion story in a few ways. While not a straight adaptation by any means, this film is definitely taking a few ideas from the Pygmalion trope. See, if you don’t know, Pygmalion’s a Greek myth about a sculptor who falls in love with his statue. It’s been adapted multiple times throughout the history of the arts, but the most prominent version of this was the stage musical My Fair Lady, famously adapted into a film starring Audrey Hepburn in 1964.

And again, a lot of adaptations of that, too. While Pretty Woman isn’t explicitly an adaptation of either work, the themes are still present in the work. So, yeah, it’s a good point. In this version, she’s changing him as much as he’s changing her. The sculpture is sculpting the sculptor. Which is cool.

And then, as we had that cute little revelation, Vivian tells Edward that she loves him. And OH FUCK. It’s the last day. And when he says he doesn’t want this to be the last of them together, she takes it as romantic. But when he essentially proposes making her a beck-and-call girl, putting her up in an apartment and hooking her up with dresses...she’s understandably not interested. She says that, as a little girl, she dreamed of a white knight that would sweep her off her feet and take her away. But Edward isn’t that knight.

Have I mentioned how much I love Vivian? Because Vivian’s fuckin’ fantastic, Jesus Christ.

Edward decides to leave, and says that he’s done all he can at this point. He leaves, and she’s shattered. Kit, meanwhile, comes to visit her at the hotel, and she admits that she’s fallen in love with him. While Kit’s initially worried about it, she says that they could maybe settle down and buy some diamonds and a horse. I also love Kit.

Meanwhile, at the meeting with Mr. Morse, Edward turns the tables on Phil and his yes-men, and asks to speak with Mr. Morse alone. Phil’s gobsmacked by this, but agrees. Once they’re alone, Edward admits that he no longer wishes to buy his company and destroy it. Instead, he wants to help him rebuild his company. And Morse agrees, telling Edward that he’s proud of him.

Phil, EXTREMELY irritated by this, and decided to make his way to talk to Edward at the hotel. And that’s when he finds Vivian. FUUUUUUUUCK. As expected, Phil tries to r*pe her, and that’s when Edward shows up, and BEATS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM.

Edward tells Phil off, calling him an EVEN BIGGER sociopath than he is, and kicks him out. Friendship ended with Phil. Now Vivian is his best friend. But despite this, Vivian still realizes that their relationship, at least the one she wants, seems impossible. Conceding, and on his way back to New York now, Edward pays her, and tells her to call him if she ever needs anything.

But he asks her to stay one more night with him, not because of money...BUT BECAUSE OF LOVE. And she replies that she can’t...and they part ways. Vivian goes to say goodbye to Barney, who still rules. He calls a cab for her, and says that she can visit them anytime. My girlfriend says that she would leave me for Barney, and I agree. I agree so much, because she deserves the best, and the best is Barney, and I could never BE Barney.

I could never be Barney.

It’s over now, as the song in the background says, and Edward laments his lost relationship as the thunder rolls in. Vivian decides to finally go to San Francisco, and finish high school, inspired by Edward’s love and faith for her. She passes that faith onto Kit as she says goodbye. Fuuuuuuck, man, this goodbye hurts as well.

Edward goes to the lobby, and talks to Barney one last time. AND BARNEY TELLS EDWARD WHERE VIVIAN WENT, LIKE A GODDAMN CHAMPION. WHY CAN’T I BE AS PERFECT AS BARNEY????

He makes his way to her apartment, and buys flowers from a woman with a Cockney accent, WHICH IS A MY FAIR LADY REFERNCE! HOLY SHIT! He arrives in a white limo at her place, overcomes his fear of heights and climbs a fire escape in a metaphorical tower to rescue his princess.

THAT’S HOLLYWOOD, BABY! And it’s Pretty Woman as well. That was a very heartwarming film, and I’m very glad that I watched it! Is it perfect? Ehhhhhhhh, see you at the Review.

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lucadansembourg · 4 years ago

Photo

highsocietyhq task forty-one —– inspo.

“oh! i’ve made the wrong decision, haven’t i?”

i. william thacker // notting hill (1999)

luca is, at his core, sort of a bumbling idiot. truly, every time i watch this movie, i can’t tell the difference between them. will’s constantly making bad decisions, running around like a fool and risking it all for any chance at being loved. and then - in the end - he still manages to make the wrong decisions for himself, even if the right answer is obvious. i feel like luca is a bumbling hugh grant type, anyways, so you can find a bit of him in pretty much any 90s rom com starring hugh grant because jesus christ this dude gives off awkard vibes for MILES.

here’s a few scenes that really give me luca energy:

“oh, i’ve made the wrong decision haven’t i?” the luca vibes of fucking up and realizing it literally two hours later. also rhiannon is his insane roommate spike, no i won’t elaborate.

the “whoopsie daisies” scene really just. it has all the awkwardness of luca trying to interact with anyone ever so. jot that down.

i just think this scene is funny sorry i had to include it

ii. ben wyatt // parks and recreation (2009 - 2015)

let’s be real with each other: the invasion was definitely luca’s version of “ice town costs ice clown his town crown”. i have to laugh because of that, but the manic energy of ben wyatt managed to fit luca perfectly. i think ben carries the same “constantly fucking things up” energy that luca does, and he also has that awkward manner of interacting, even if luca definitely lacks that deadpan sense of humor that ben wyatt’s known for. also, during luca’s super depressive phases he would try to make “requiem for a tuesday”

here’s a few scenes that really give me luca energy:

"do you think a depressed person could make this?” - luca trying to convince anyone he doesn’t have depression and failing wildly.

the ice town chronicles is. yeah.

“who hasn’t had gay thoughts?”

iii. danny tanner // full house (1987 - 1995)

i’m just going to say it: luca d’ansembourg is what would have happened if a sitcom dad accidentally became king of a small country. and i will also, full disclosure, admit that i hated full house as a kid. but danny tanner in half of the clips i can find of him is just... the “proud widower dad” energy is too much and i just. why are half the 90s tv dads widowers? anyways! danny tanner was really trying his best to raise his daughters right and i think that’s the number one reason that i get luca vibes off him.

here’s a few examples:

the dumbass energy that he carries in this collection is. luca vibes.

this collection of scenes is luca vs anna & liza during the invasion SO.

iv. bruce banner // marvel cinematic universe

i think most of this is the way that bruce banner in the mcu constantly reads like a strange, repressed and definitely depressed dude. all of which hold luca energy. even if i feel like luca doesn’t have the ability to “hulk out”or even truly get mad enough to get close, i think that the whole “suffering through everything” angle really fits him, too.

anyways here’s the scenes with luca vibes:

the not knowing how to do a fistbump in this scene. i just-

the entirety of this video

v. maxwell sheffield // the nanny

i won’t lie - i actually wrote my app for luca while i was watching “the nanny” and somewhere along the line my wires got crossed and i accidentally made luca a whole lot like mr. sheffield. oops! anyways, the widower with a heart of gold who adores his children and is weird about being allowed to move on from his spouse? yeah. that’s both of them. i hate this realization, because it’s only made me want to rewatch the nanny over again for like the 5th time this year.

have i mentioned that this is my favorite show ever? anyways! here’s some clips:

"i’m 42 years old and what have i achieved?”

the entire “imaginary friend” sequence.

vi. george mcfly // back to the future

now - this is all because luca is a goddamn doormat, just like george mcfly in the first back to the future movie. if luca wasn’t a royal, he’d be the guy getting bullied and forced into doing some asshole’s homework. also - it’s about the whole “loser gets the girl” trope, that’s basically the story of luca’s marriage. anyways! i think another point is that george gets this “big damn hero” moment, and i can definitely see luca managing that by complete accident, too. so.

ok here’s my 3 favorite george mcfly moments:

getting bullied is luca energy

going through the plan over and over again. luca before ever event.

the “big damn hero” moment

#hshqtask041 #this. this was fun. but also realizing i created a sitcom dad and accidentally let him run a country was. less fun.#JFSDKLFj #deadass i hate how this turned out but i don't want to look at it for another second so here you go everyone else has to suffer

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dangerously-human · 5 years ago

Text

Tagged by @simplyghosting, thank you friend!

Name: Rachel

Nicknames: Rachel B (alternatively, Rachel B the Jesus Thief), Sweet Rachel, Danger/Rachel-Danger, Sunshine

Zodiac: ???

Height: 5′7″ (I wanted to fight the doctor the last time I went and they said I was down to 5′6.5″, listen, I wanted 5′8″ and never made it and YOU ARE NOT TAKING THAT HALF INCH FROM ME YOU BASTARDS)

Languages: Only fluent in English. I’m probably around a fourth grade level with Spanish (have lost a lot of it but can still read it pretty well), and I have a teeny bit of ASL and a very very tiny smattering of Irish

Nationality: American (German and Welsh heritage)

Favorite season: spring

Favorite flower: Way way way too many! Pansies, forget-me-nots, tulips, crocuses, sunflowers, hydrangeas, hyacinth, snapdragons...

Favorite scent: lemon

Dogs or cats?: Love both! My cat Bo is sitting next to me as I type this, though, so I feel obligated to say cats (though I think I prefer dogs for stereotypical personality,/way of relating, which is actually why Bo and I get along so well, he needs constant affection and always wants to be held)

Number of blankets: An abundance, but I only sleep under one

Dream trip: Back to Ireland!

Blog established: October 2010

Random fact: I am currently wearing very cute bumblebee socks and listening to a Twenty One Pilots playlist

Gender: Female

Current time: 6:23pm

Favorite fictional character: This is a cruel question, so I try to pick someone different each time. Today’s is (zero surprise) Endeavour Morse because I LOVE HIM OKAY

Coffee, hot tea, or hot chocolate?: Hot chocolate

Average hours of sleep: Probably around 7.5

Favorite artists: Twenty One Pilots, PVRIS, EDEN/The Eden Project, The Chainsmokers, Skillet...

Stuck in my head: Well, I’m currently listening to “Car Radio” by Twenty One Pilots, so I guess that

Last movie I saw: Arrival (I liked it!)

Last thing I Googled: “do everything in love” (couldn’t remember the verse)

Other blogs: @justanotherquoteblog, which is rarely active anymore, but who knows, maybe I’ll go back to it someday

Do I get asks?: Yeah, on occasion! Mostly nice ones, which I appreciate very much :)

Reason for URL: I’ve given this explanation pretty often (from The Elephant Man, but also for the poetry of being human being a danger either to me or coming from me), so you guys could probably tell it better than I could by this point

Followers/following: 893 / 772

Lucky number: My favorite is 8

Currently wearing: Red and black shirt with blue flowers on it and skinny jeans, plus the aforementioned bumblebee socks

Dream job: Data something or other, preferably in research of some kind

Favorite foods: Mashed potatoes, peas, heath bars... idk, those are the first couple things that came to mind

Instruments: Played cello a long time ago

Favorite song: I think it has to be “You should be sad” by Halsey for how often I’ve had it on repeat lately

Tagging: @xayhra, @brontes, @paula-of-christ (idk which of your blogs I’m supposed to tag!)

#personal

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girlinthepictureframe · 5 years ago

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The Briefest Kiss Part 13

Thank you for all your kind words and likes and reblogs! ❤️ This story is now on AO3 as well. Here’s the link for those of you who are interested!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921534/chapters/49736201

Present Day

April 2019

Alex sat in the back of the chartered jet, on route to Argentina with the rest of the Monkeys. Matt and Jamie were joking around in the front while Nick had fallen asleep half an hour ago. He'd like to get some rest as well, but it just wouldn't come to him. Instead, he kept checking the time. Still too early to call, wasn't it? “Fuck it,” he murmured and pressed dial.

Miles picked up after the first ring.

“Good morning, Miles. This is Alex, calling for our fourth, scheduled 'let's have a phone friendship'-call. How are you this morning?” The disdain for their situation, but mostly for Miles' idea of a separation, dripped from every syllable.

“You ever start a conversation with me like that again,” snipped Miles from across the ocean, “I'll hang up. Got it?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Too early for your sense of humor, ey?”

“No,” retorted Miles. “But this is the fourth time you call me and use that passive-aggressive tone of yours and you know how much that tone pisses me off, which means you're doing it on purpose. You're mad at me and I get it, okay? You don't like this. Well, guess what?” said Miles as his voice got louder, “I don't like it either. But it is what it is. And for what it's worth, you and I are busy. You're doing your tour and I'm doing mine, so it's not as though I'm stopping us from hanging out at some beach or whatever!”

Alex knew that. He knew Miles was busy. He was busy, himself. And if fucking annoyed him that he hated that fact. He ought to be enjoying it. It was the last leg of their tour and it had been a good tour! He should be having the time of his life at the moment. Instead he felt trapped. Worse, he felt shut out of Miles' life. “That's not what I'm saying! But you're the one who decided that we need distance. And then you fucking kicked me out of your apartment! So excuse me for being a little bitter about that!”

“I didn't kick you out, Al.”

“Yes, you did. Call it whatever you want, but that's what it was.” After that night, they hadn't spoken for half a week aside from the occasional and impersonal text message. And Mexico had been no different. Miles had barely spent any time with him and when he had, they had always been around other people. Never alone. “You're treating me as though all of this is my fault.”

Silence fell over them. A few moments passed before Miles spoke up. “I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention.” Another beat. “You’re different than I am. I always worry and my head is filled with different scenarios of all that could go wrong. You let your heart guide you. You're reckless. And I don't mean that in a bad or mean or insulting way. I'm just trying to explain myself. I fear I'm not doing well with that.”

Alex leaned back, closed his eyes. “Are you blaming me for that kiss?”

“No, no.”

“Sounds like it, Mi.”

“You told me to lose control, Al!”

“So you are blaming me!” He took offense. “I was caught up in a moment,” Alex reminded him. “You're the one who kissed me all slow and…” The memory of it caused a shiver to run up his spine. “You know well enough how you kissed me!”

“I know what I did,” snapped Miles. “Why the fuck do you think I'm staying away from you, huh? I told you I can't control it.”

“Stop punishing me for that,” bit Alex back.

Silence fell over them again. Alex took a few deep breaths, rubbed the weariness from his eyes and leaned forward, propping his heavy head up on his hand.

“I feel like I'm losing my mind,” admitted Miles, breaking the quietness. “I don't want to snap at you. Alex, I miss you! But all it takes is one look at you and all my resolve melts away.”

“So does mine,” said Alex defensively. “I wasn't trying to seduce you,” he whispered, occasionally remembering that he wasn't alone on that plane. “But whenever we're that close, I just forget everything else. My mind blanks and all that's left is��you know what!” He sat up straight again. “You barely talked to me in Mexico. You treated me like a stranger! That hurt.”

“Louise was there!” Miles shot back. “That—”

“That what?” demanded Alex to know when Miles abruptly stopped speaking.

“I didn't want to be in the way,” finished Miles, using words that Alex could tell were chosen carefully.

“That's not what you wanted to say, Miles! Don't lie to me!”

“It fucking hurt, okay? Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Was it? Alex didn't know. If that's what he wanted to hear, didn't that also imply he had purposely paraded her around in front of Miles? Had he done that? Was he that sick of a bastard? Had he been that bitter about Miles' wish for a bit of space? And how could he have known that her presence would hurt him? “That’s not…”

“Damn it, Al! What are we doing?”

“I don't know, Mi.”

“You know, yesterday, I was actually looking forward to our call. I had this idea for a riff that I wanted to share. And Victoria told me a joke that I thought you'd really like. I wanted to tell you that my coffee maker broke. I knew you'd be happy to hear that, since you hate that thing so much! All this stuff that real friends talk about.”

Alex would have loved to hear all that. “Then why were you so grumpy when you picked up?”

“Cause I had just woken up from a dream.”

“And?”

“And you’re not here,” confessed Miles.

Alex felt his eyes grew heavy and his skin turn hot. How he wanted to be there, in bed, with Miles! This early in the morning, the pillows and sheets would be warm and soft and Miles would be, too. He would be sleepy and he would have that lazy, subtle little smile on his face that always let him know that he had dreamt well. Alex would wiggle closer towards him, maybe brush his leg against his dick to tease him just the slightest bit. And he would kiss him. He’d take his time and be tender, until he would know that Miles was awake. Then he would kiss him harder, deeper, vigorously. He’d roll on top of him, grab his arms, pin him down and…

Alex shook his head, swallowed hard. “Oh,” was all he could reply.

Miles seemed to understand. “Exactly.”

“Should we hang up?” asked Alex, unsure how to handle this whole mess.

“Not yet,” pleaded Miles. “Tell me about your day. Tell me boring things.”

Alex turned to stare out of the window and found the endless horizon staring back at him. “The hotel staff temporarily lost one of Nick's guitars,” he began and took Miles step by step through the day's events. They talked for another hour, about benign little things that carried no meaning at all. At the end of his story about how the Monkeys' driver got lost on his way to the airport, Alex could hear the hoarse, breathy sound of Miles' soft snores.

The desire to be lying next to him in that moment became almost unbearably painful. That feeling of being stuck returned to him. And there was nothing he could do to make it go away. “Sleep well, Mi,” whispered Alex and ended the call.

Two weeks later.

“You really don’t mind if I toss all those guitars into the trash?”

Huh? What? Of course he would mind! These were his guitars! Alex shook his head, turned to stare his father with a look of shock. “Why would you want do that?”

“Jesus Christ!” said David Turner and placed the heavy box with old cables and what-nots onto the floor. “You were listening, then!”

Alex rolled his eyes as he wiped the dirt from his hands. “Yes. Sorry, dad. Got a lot on my mind today.” Even though it was a chilly spring day, he was sweating nonetheless. “How many more boxes are there?” He tried not to sound as annoyed as he felt. “I thought you and Miles already did the heavy lifting?”

“We did a lot of it,” said his dad as he picked the heavy box back up. “But there’s a whole lot of stuff in this garage that I want out. And then we have to paint the ceiling. Else we can’t begin to build the new racks.”

“We?” asked Alex, with dread.

“You said you were staying for a bit!”

Only because his mother had promised him that there was no home-improvement planned for the duration of his stay. Otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up. Played. By his parents. Once again! Story of his life. “You know I could pay for people to do all that for you? I’d be happy to!” He’d pay a fortune not to have to do the work himself!

“Where’s the fun in that, son?” He handed the heavy box to Alex. “Go put that with the other stuff. Your mother and I are very appreciative of the fact that you so generously want to spend your hard-earned money on us, but every once in a while she and I like doing a bit of the work ourselves!”

Why, Alex would never understand. But what choice did a son have than to buckle up and help! So he went and put the box with the other stuff.

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” asked David as he rummaged through a bucket filled with nuts, bolts and screws.

“You’ll never need those again,” pointed Alex out, only to receive a stern glare in return.

“You don’t know that!” He picked the bucket up and handed it to Alex. “Go put that—”

“With the other stuff,” finished Alex. Bloody thing weighed a ton! “Nice of you to offer your ear but…”

“I’m not your mother?” His father chuckled. “She may understand the matters of your heart a bit better than I do, but you’ve been glum and moody for almost a year now. If her words haven’t helped you by now, maybe it’s time you give me a chance.”

Alex smiled. And felt bad. He had great parents, didn’t he? He shouldn’t have spent the day bitching about helping with the garage. “How about a break, dad? Do you want something to drink?”

“A coffee would be quite welcome at the moment. There’s a new coffee machine in the kitchen but I don’t know how to work it. Would you mind?”

“Of course not. Plain black coffee?”

“No,” grinned David. “Café latte with foam, please. Thank you, son.”

A what now? Alex shook his head as he made his way inside. And then he saw it. In the corner, by the fridge. A big, tacky, bright red machine with a blinking LCD display, a few gaudy chrome buttons and two empty mugs waiting to be filled. Oh, it had to have been him! There was no way his parents would ever buy themselves something as big and ridiculously expensive as this thing. And it was expensive! He knew, ‘cause he’d been there, four years ago, when Miles had went and gotten himself the previous model of that fucking coffee monster! Who had ended up carrying that stupid thing up the three flights of stairs to Miles’ apartment that day? Well, not Miles! He’d been busy carrying the Saint Laurent bag filled with a new pair of shoes!

Alex made his father his desired cup of coffee, then went back to the garage. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“When did he drop by?”

David looked up mid-sip. “Who?”

“Miles. When he did drop by? He’s the one who got you that fucking coffee machine, isn’t he? He knows how much I hate those. He’s getting a kick of letting me suffer!”

“It’s a coffee machine, Alex. Don’t be dramatic. And if you must know, it was Miles. He came by last week. Called it a very belated Christmas present. Your mom already fancies herself in love with that machine.” He chuckled at that. “It’s a little big, yes. But quite efficient! And very good at its job. I’ve never tasted coffee that good! Why don’t you like it? You love coffee.”

A simple coffee maker got the job done just as well. And if one wanted fancy coffee, then one could walk to a coffee shop and get it. The idea of putting overly big machines into a kitchen was beyond him. Also, it annoyed him that Miles hadn’t told him that he’d dropped by his parents’ home, even though they had spoken on the phone a few times since. It annoyed him almost as much as the fact that his parents had actually gotten to see him, while he was stuck on the bloody phone with him.

David sat down on an old wooden chair in the corner, taking another sip. “Very good coffee, indeed. When you’re done with those two boxes, we should call it a day. It’s already late and we’ve yet to find something to eat. I told your mother I’d fire up the grill, but I’m not sure we’ve got anything to put on it. By the way, will you ever tell Miles that you’re in love with him?”

Alex was in the midst of lifting yet another, even heavier box when his father’s words sank in. It slipped right out of his hands and he barely managed to jump away in time to avoid having it land on his feet. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I fear we’re out of steaks.” When Alex met his eyes, David smiled warmly. “Talk to me about Miles, son.”

“I got to hand it to you, in terms of bluntness, mom got nothing on you!”

“Don’t tell her. Let that be our secret.” He grinned.

Alex sat down on the now ignored box. “How do you know?”

“Aside from the obvious? That boy has spent the last ten years or more walking in and out of our house as though he lived here. Then his visits become less frequent. Eventually they stop. And, coincidentally, at the same time you become a hollow shell of your former self.”

At that, Alex scoffed. He wasn’t a shell, was he? A little preoccupied with his thoughts, maybe. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Am I wrong?”

Well…he had been distant lately. And downtrodden. And maybe he had listened to a few too many depressing songs, realized Alex. He shook his head and admitted defeat. “No.”

“The pictures hurt you, haven’t they?”

“How the fuck do you know about the pictures?” Alex had been on the plane back from South America, on route to London to visit Miles, as friends did. The tour was done. He had also planned on visiting his parents. The entire thing had been completely above brow and Miles wouldn’t have been able to take offense or accuse Alex of breaking another one of Miles’ ridiculous and annoying boundaries!

But on the plane, he had gotten bored. It had been a very long flight. So he had checked the Daily Mail gossip page. And there they had been. Pictures of Miles with his former girlfriend, partying in a club, huddling together, whispering to each other, smiling at each other. It had hurt. Badly. But he wasn’t allowed to take offense, to be hurt, was he? He had a girlfriend in France, waiting for him to return. And Miles was single so his friend had done nothing wrong! However, that didn’t change a thing. No matter how often he had tried to explain it to his heart since then, the stupid just wouldn’t listen and stubbornly kept hurting. So Alex had traveled directly to his parents, instead.

“I saw them on Twitter,” explained David, pulling Alex out of his thoughts.

“What?!” His dad was dropping bombshell after bombshell!

“How am I supposed to keep up with what the bunch of you are doing?” David asked indignantly. “I’d like to know it if one of you does something that might require a few stern words or a compliment. Twitter is quite efficient to stay on track.”

“You don’t know how to work the coffee machine but you know Twitter?”

“You don’t know how to work Twitter but you know the coffee machine!” Retorted David.

Point taken. Alex sheepishly looked away.

“When Miles visited, back before you all went on tour,” Alex’s father continued, “I could see the light return to your eyes. You were laughing and playing guitar and enjoying life a little more. I’m not blind, Alex. I watched you on tour together. I’ve seen you around each other. I don’t wrap myself around my best friend when we hang out. We don’t kiss each other’s cheeks all the time. I don’t hold his hand when I walk with him through the house. I can see the look in your eyes when Miles is near. Whenever you think he caught you staring at him, you quickly look away, even blush, and crack a silly joke that nobody but Miles finds funny. Your mother and I have shared quite a few giggles over that.” He was giggling now. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen Miles look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if it were true? But it wasn’t. And his father was imagining things, sad though that was. “Miles and I…he and I…” Alex struggled to find the right words. As always! “We’re both male.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” deadpanned his father.

Alex groaned. “I’m trying to say...I mean...for as long as I’ve known him, I never worried about going too far and crossing a line. I never thought there were lines to cross. Because, well, I mean…we had girlfriends. It never occurred to me that…”

“You thought that, because he’s a guy, you could get close to him without risking your heart?”

“Relationships end. Friendships are supposed to last forever. I never meant to fall in love with him. I never thought I would. I never even thought I could, because he’s a guy! But it’s becoming clearer to me these days that my heart never cared for that. I think I may fallen in love with him at first sight.” He gave his father a helpless, hopeless shrug of his shoulders. “The other stuff…the attraction, the physical…ugh, it’s really hard to talk to you about this,” admitted Alex and looked at the ceiling, blushing hard. “It’s always been there. I just never noticed it before. At least not like I do now. But now that I have, I can’t…un-notice it, even though I want to un-notice it so badly.”

David got up, put the empty mug away, and took a seat next to his son. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gave it a squeeze and pulled him against his side. Alex placed his head on his father’s shoulder, closed his eyes and just reveled in the comfort he was receiving. “It’s so complicated now.”

“Now? Did something happen between the two of you?”

Alex marveled, and would forever remain grateful, at the fact that his father was utterly unfazed by the fact that his supposedly straight son had just admitted to being in love with a man. His dad was treating it as the most normal thing in the world. It allowed him to be more honest than he believed himself capable of. “He and I…we did…you know what…last year. It got messy after that.”

“How?”

“I got scared. I had all this feelings,” Alex said quietly, scooting closer into his father’s arms. Who would have thought that, at over thirty, a parent’s embrace could still be so wonderful. “I didn’t know what to do or how to react and I ran. That’s when we stopped speaking. When he came here, we agreed to be friends again. And only that. Only friends. But it’s much harder than I thought!”

“Tell him that,” suggested David.

Alex chuckled sadly. “I have, I think. Miles doesn’t want to be with me. He’s not in love with me. I can handle that. It hurts, but I can handle it. We agreed we’d never do that thing again because it would ruin our friendship. He said he would never risk losing me for a bit of sex. And I love him even more for that.”

“You got it bad, don’t you?” He gave Alex another squeeze. And smiled widely. “But it all sounds so sad and tragic when you tell it. It doesn’t have to be!”

Alex was stunned. “How can it not sound that way? I’m madly in love with my best friend who doesn’t love me back!”

“Alex, come on. Get up, son. Let’s go shopping. We’ll get burgers and fries and that green stuff that your mother likes so much when we eat it.”

Alex followed his father towards the car. “Vegetables?”

“Precisely.”

“Dad, wait! What just happened? I tell you why I’m sad and you smile and want to go shopping? What did I miss?”

“The answer,” smirked David. He came to a stop in front of the car, turned towards his son and gave him a quick hug. “Everything you’re trying to figure out is already in here,” he said and tapped Alex’s forehead with one finger. “Take a break with me, clear your head, and then, when I grill the steaks and you finish up in the garage,” he interjected, “you go and ponder what you just told me. And I guarantee you, it’ll make you feel better and show you what to do next. I’m serious about the steak, though. I am hungry!”

“If you think you know the solution to all my troubles, why won’t just tell it to me?”

“There are a few things in life that one needs to figure out for one’s self, son. You wouldn’t believe me anyway,” said David as he got into the car. “You’re coming?”

Alex groaned but got in.

“Remind me, we need milk and cocoa powder as well. And those white foamy sweets.”

“Marshmallows?”

“Yes! Your mother loves those with her hot chocolate. I’m telling you, that coffee machine is the best gift we’ve ever gotten! It’s so versatile!”

I once bought you a car, Alex wanted to point out. But whatever! Stupid coffee machine. Stupid, single Miles and his stupid, fancy coffee machine!

Later that night, Alex all but sprinted across his old bedroom when his phone rang. “You got ‘em a bloody coffee machine!?” It truly did bother him!

He heard Miles’ laughter. “I needed a new one, I told you! And they had one on sale. It was a really good deal, so I got it for your parents. You should be happy that they’re enjoying it. They are enjoying it, right?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” grumbled Alex as he laid back on his bed. “Speaking about gifts, how come they get one and I don’t? You’ve yet to pick up yours and still haven’t said a word about mine. May I remind you that we missed out on celebrating Christmas and my birthday together, which means you’re two gifts short!”

“I have gifts for you,” mumbled Miles and Alex had to concentrate on making out the words. “The gift I got you for your birthday is pretty big. It’s in London. You just have to drop by and pick it up.”

“Big how?” asked Alex. “You made a huge fuss about my gift for you, which you – in my humble opinion – refused to accept for an entirely ridiculous reason!”

“Not big like that.” Miles hesitated. “The box is big. It’s actually a bit of a funny gift. The one I got you for Christmas…well, I kinda got it for you last year, long before we…you know…and I haven’t given it to you because…it might be the different kind of big. And after the huge fuss I made about your gift for me – which, in my humble opinion, was entirely reasonable – I really shouldn’t give mine to you. But I really want you to have it. It’s a dilemma.”

“Oh, it’s not!” Alex reassured him, grinning. “I’m not like you! I have no issues accepting big gifts! When will you be in London so I can get my gifts?”

“Impatient much?” Miles laughed. “I won’t be back before next week. I’m visiting a few old friends. Then I’ll head to my mom. And there’s a birthday party near Sheffield two days from now, so I’ll be near your parents. Maybe I drop by for coffee!”

“Whose birthday?” asked Alex dryly, deliberately ignoring the coffee quip.

“I don’t know,” admitted Miles. “Friend of Victoria’s. Came by one of our shows. He invited everyone, said it’ll be a huge party. The whole band is going. What are you doing next week? You’re back in Sheffield, aren’t you? Admit it, you’ve spent a good portion of your day pointlessly glaring at the poor, innocent coffee machine!”

“I haven’t. I don’t glare pointlessly. I glared at it angrily.” Alex sank deeper into the cushion. “Don’t know about next week yet.” He hesitated for a moment, but then did suggest what he’d initially intended to do anyway. “We should meet, Miles. It’s been a while.” Almost three weeks.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” That wasn’t the reply Alex had expected.

“Okay,” repeated Miles. “Let’s meet. In London. Soon. So you can get your gifts.”

“And my shirt,” which Alex had absolutely not forgotten about.

“Does that mean I can keep the belt?”

“Dream on!” Both laughed. It felt so good to laugh with him. And even though he’d never, ever admit it to Miles, Alex had to agree that talking to him via phone was a bit easier and less distracting than speaking to him directly. “Miles? Are you busy at the moment? You got plans tonight?” Are you meeting your ex, he really wanted to ask.

“Nope. Just me and the TV tonight. You?”

“Me and no TV. It was a long day.” Was it a bad thing that it made him happy that Miles had no plans for the evening? He pushed the thought away. “Did some working out, sort of. Dad had me carry a lot of boxes. That bloody garage! I think I’m getting old. In the old days, I could go for days without sleep. But now? It’s sad, truly.”

Miles was laughing again. “I feel for you, babe! But you’re right. I also like my off-days much more than I used to!”

Alex was shaking his head at himself. One little word. Babe. And here his fucking heart was, fluttering around in his chest like those four little letters actually meant something.

Words.

Meaningful words.

Alex frowned. A thought had just crossed his mind, but it had been too brief, too fast, to take note of in time. It made him feel strange and restless, all of sudden. Like he’d glimpsed at something very important without realizing it. And now that he tried to get a closer look, it was gone. Where did one search for a thought?

“Alex? You’re still there?”

“Huh? What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” said Alex, without feeling okay. He sat up straight. “Did you ever feel like…like…” “Like what?” asked Miles, clearly interested.

“I can’t even say,” Alex described. Or rather failed to. “Something just crossed my mind! Just a second ago! But I don’t know what! I just…argh! You must think I’m crazy!”

“I would never think that of you. Did the idea for a song come to you? A lyric? A melody?”

“No.” Alex tried to recall that elusive thought. “I think not. Feels different when that happens.”

“Well, let me know if you figure it out,” Miles told him. “You got me all curious now!”

A loud groan slipped from Alex’s throat. “Ugh. I bet I won’t get a moment’s sleep tonight. I just…I had a thought. But I don’t know what thought that was. It’ll keep me awake all night, I swear! It was something about…words.” He felt as though he was trying to recall the entire plot of a book he’d never even read!

“Words, huh? That’s a vague description. Good words? Bad words? A specific word? Words that somebody has said to you? Or wor–”

“Stop!” There it was again. And there it went away again. “Argh!” Alex drove a hand through his hair, only to hiss in pain. Shit. He’d forgotten that hair, once grown to a certain length, would tangle and knot and not part easily. “Damn hair!”

“I’m not there with you,” Miles reminded him somewhat pointedly. “So if you jump from thoughts to hair to words and back, I’m unable to follow you. Oh shit!”

“What? What happened?”

“Oh no! Oooh! I was supposed to go to the dentist today for my routine checkup! I completely forgot about that!”

Alex rolled his eyes. Speaking about jumping from one thought to another! “Damn it, I thought something bad had happened!”

“It is bad!” Miles was adamant. “I don’t like letting people wait around for me! It’s rude and not fair. I should have canceled sooner. I knew I wouldn’t be in town today. Gotta call tomorrow and apologize!”

“To the dentist?” Alex scoffed. At least he wasn’t the only one who was crazy!

“To the person who makes the schedule! Mock me, I don’t care. But I don’t like people to think I’m some prick who believes he can come and go as he wants. I’d never do that! Which, if I may remind you, is the reason the guy who drove the bus when you and I did our tour liked me a lot better than you!”

“Well, he might have liked you better but while you were sitting in the bus like the well-behaved little rockstar that you are, I was sleeping out! So, which one of us made the wiser decision? I believe I did!” Alex grinned when he heard Miles begin to laugh.

“Fair point,” agreed his friend, taking it in stride. Alex yawned and Miles laughed louder. “Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you’re getting old! I think it’s time you try that whole sleeping thing! Slumber well, Al.”

“Night, Mi.” He hung up with a chuckle.

I’d never do that.

Alex bolted upward and zoomed in on Miles’ words. “He’d never do that.” The thought came back. Clearer, this time. “He’d never risk that.” Miles loved Alex. As a friend, yes. But he loved him. And he’d never risk losing him as a friend for a bit of sex. He had said so himself. And if he would never do that? What did that mean?

Alex got up, paced the room with large, impatient strides. They were friends. They loved each other. But…if Miles would never risk their friendship just for a bit of sex, then…then it hadn’t been just a bit of sex. And if it hadn’t been that, did that mean that it had been more?

With a groan he stripped off his hoodie. Suddenly he felt warm, sweaty even. His head was overflowing with thoughts. His entire body was pulsating, throbbing with something he couldn’t define. His eyes landed on the phone which lay on top of the comforter.

Miles.

We’ve locked our hearts in.

Alex’s breathing became uneven as he was hit by memories of Miles explaining his feelings to him. His friend had been so honest, so open, this entire time. If only Alex had paid closer attention to his actual words! Or even just his actions! All those nights that he’d spent in Miles’ arms, pretending that it was just a friendship-thing? When had he ever felt the need to sleep in Matt’s arms? Or Jamie’s? Or Nick’s? Hell, when had he ever desperately desired to sleep in Taylor’s arms? None of them would have ever even allowed him into their beds, or arms. None, except Taylor. Because Taylor had loved him. But not as a friend!

Miles had always opened his arms for him, Alex realized. Without any hesitation. He’d held him, squeezed him, kissed him, caressed him, even sucked him and fucked him and none of that had felt platonic! Alex came to a stop, held onto his desk and closed his eyes. He remembered those kisses, remembered the way Miles had deepened their contact, had groaned and moaned into his mouth, had sighed in pleasure and begged in need.

Miles had told him they were different, but they weren’t. Not that different. Alex tried to recall his own romantic escapades, tried to recall what he had felt then, but those brief affairs and one night stands that he used to have were all pale and dim compared to the fireworks and explosions he’d experienced with Miles. The ones that had come before Miles didn’t matter to him. They had never left him drowning in want. They had never made him feel loved, the way Miles had made him feel loved. They had never made him surrender completely.

Images of Miles’ face flashed in front of Alex’s eyes. Images from their night. Images of Miles staring at Alex with complete and utter fascination, as though Alex was a living, breathing miracle and Miles was overwhelmed by his beauty. No one had ever looked at him like that.

That fucking hurt!

And how could Miles have been hurt by Alex if there were no feelings which could have gotten hurt? If Miles had wanted him there when he had woken up that night, then he couldn’t have been disgusted by him! And if the attraction was still there, as Miles had told him, as he had demonstrated by kissing him again, then he didn’t regret it. Did he? If the only reason it couldn’t happen again was the risk of losing their friendship, it meant Miles absolutely didn’t regret it!

We’ve always pretended that all we did was play around.

So if they hadn’t pretended, if they hadn’t played around, if everything had been real, then…

Could it be?

I’d never risk losing you for a bit of sex.

If Miles hadn’t risked it for a bit of sex, he had risked it for something more. And more than sex was…love.

Was Miles in love with him? Alex dropped to the chair next to him and just sat there, in silence. Motionless. Was that possible? Did he dare to believe that the one person he loved so wholly might actually love him back? Alex tilted his head to the side, to look at his phone again. Well, he couldn’t really call him and ask him, could he?

Oh God! What was he supposed to do now? Wait until they met again? How long would that take? He couldn’t even go to Miles because he didn’t know where, precisely, Miles was at this very moment. And he couldn’t call and ask Miles, because hearing his voice right now would make speaking entirely impossible and Miles would never just tell him without asking why. What then? Same problem! He couldn’t tell him on the phone. “Fucking hell,” shot Alex and closed his eyes.

Party.

Wait, there was a party. A birthday party. Everyone was invited, Miles had said so. That meant Alex was invited as well, right? But whose party was it? He needed to call somebody other than Miles for details. Victoria! He could call Victoria! Alex jumped up, grabbed the phone from his bed and – then stopped. It was already midnight. He couldn’t call her now. That would be strange. And it would raise flags. Victoria would then call Miles, who, in return, would call Alex. Voila, back to problem one. Fucking phones!

He’d do it tomorrow. He’d find a way to explain it to her.

Tomorrow. Oh, tomorrow was so very far away.

And it’d be days until he saw Miles. Days!

Alex sank down on the bed and laid back again.

Days!

He’d never last that long.

Spoiler for Part 14:

“Fuck talking,” declared Alex.

“Fuck me,” said Miles.

#the briefest kiss #milex #milex fanfic #milex fanfiction #miles kane alex turner #fanfic #fanfiction

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