#clapton more like clap me

[terminallyapologetic]

I <3 bothering @legitclaptondavis

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕬 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗

Clapton Davis x gender neutral reader

Summary: You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. What you couldn’t have predicted was that a dare from a simple game would give you a unique chance with the person you’ve had a crush on for too long.

Warnings: pure fluff. No pronouns used towards reader. Reader is a shy nerd. OC male character. Truth or dare. Confession. Kissing.

Words count: almost 3000

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person, comfortable within the confines of your books and thoughts. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls. Jake's reassuring smile beside you was the anchor you desperately needed.

He claps you on the back, urging you forward. “This is your night,” he grins, moving with you toward the center of the room.

You glance around, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The room pulses with life—strangers laughing, dancing, and clinking glasses.

The familiar figure of Clapton Davis caught your eye almost immediately. Clapton, the charismatic and outgoing hipster who seemed to thrive in these environments, was surrounded by a group of friends. He was the type who exudes charm effortlessly with his easy smile and confident demeanor. He was everything you were not, and you had harbored a crush on him for quite a while now.

You often found yourself questioning the small interactions you had with him, recalling the many times Clapton approached you at school, always with some question in mind.

Sometimes, it was about complex subjects like calculus or chemistry, but often, it was something so basic that it made you wonder. “Hey, can you remind me how to find the area of a rectangle again?” he had asked once, his eyes twinkling with an inexplicable charm. Another time, it was, “Do you know if we have any homework for English?” It was as if he sought you out specifically, bypassing others who might have been more obvious choices for such questions.

Things so simple that you sometimes wondered if he was doing it just to annoy you. But you always brushed those thoughts away, deeming them too fanciful.

Each interaction left you with a flurry of emotions, part of you thrilled at the attention, and another part skeptical, thinking it was too good to be true.

Jake nudged you gently, breaking your reverie. “Let’s go join them” he suggested, nodding towards the group that included Clapton and two girls you recognized from school, Ione and Riley. Despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach, you trusted Jake and followed him.

The group welcomed you warmly, and you tried your best to engage in the conversation. Your eyes occasionally met Clapton’s, and each time you noticed a peculiar intensity in his gaze. Was he actually staring at you? You dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and focused on the ongoing chatter.

After some time, someone suggested playing truth or dare. The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, and a empty bottle was swiftly produced. The game began, and the tension in the air grew palpable. You watched the bottle spin, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. It finally landed between you and Jake.

“Truth or dare?” He asked you simply.

In a rare moment of bravery, you chose dare. You wanted to show that you could be courageous and, more importantly, you trusted Jake. He pondered for a moment, then a devilish grin spread across his face.

“I dare you to sit on Clapton’s lap for the rest of the game,” he announced.

That’s it, tonight you’re gonna have to find a way to hide Jake’s dead body without nobody noticing.

Laughter erupted around you, and your heart sank. You shot Jake a death glare so intense that he almost retracted the dare. But before he could, Clapton spoke up. “I’m totally fine with that dare,” he said, his voice steady but there was a noticeable effort to keep his excitement under wraps.

His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm that he tried to hide behind a casual tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a grin.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you stood up. The room seemed to blur as you walked towards Clapton, ignoring the jealous and envious glares from Ione and Riley.

As you reach him, Clapton surprises you by pulling you gently but firmly onto his lap. His muscular arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place. The closeness is electrifying, and your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and a thrill you can't quite name. You can feel his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Clapton shifted slightly, making sure you were comfortable. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, unable to find your voice, overwhelmed by the proximity and the fluttering in your stomach.

The game continues, but your attention is solely on the sensation of being so close to Clapton. It feels like you and Clapton are in a world of your own. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart.

His head rests on your shoulder, and he begins to whisper in your ear, his voice a soft murmur that only you can hear. "How are you doing?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words. The unexpected sweetness in his tone makes your heart flutter.

“Good,” you manage to reply, though your voice is shaky.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You settle in, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks. Clapton leans in closer again, his breath warm against your ear “You’re braver than I thought,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His words send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Do you come to parties like this often?" Clapton asks, his tone curious.

“Not really,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “I’m more of a quiet night kind of person.”

"Really? I'm glad you came tonight," he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "It's nice to see you outside of school."

You nod, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Yeah, it's... different."

Some people in the circle leave to get a drink, others join in to participate in the game and Clapton keeps up a steady stream of whispers. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look really good tonight," he whispers, his voice low and intimate.

Your checks flush deeper feeling the intensity of his gaze on you and you manage a soft "thank you" in response. His compliments are so unexpected and genuine that they leave you both flustered and thrilled.

His lips grazing your ear while his hand rests on your hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles that make it hard to focus on anything else.

Every time someone else takes their turn, you’re acutely aware of his presence. His hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional squeeze of reassurance. He asks you questions, some innocent, others more daring, each one making your heart race faster.

“Have you always been this bold?” he asks at one point, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and admiration. You turn slightly to look at him, his face close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Maybe you just bring it out in me,” you reply surprising yourself with your honesty.

His presence is reassuring and his whispered conversations create a private bubble for the two of you amidst the chaos of the party.

He keeps the conversation light, asking you about your interests, your favorite subjects, and anything that comes to his mind.

"Thanks for all the help with school" he continues, his breath tickling your ear "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning.

"You must be really good at what you do," he says at one point. "I mean, you've helped me so much, and I know I'm not the easiest person to teach.”

You laugh softly: "You're not that bad. Sometimes I wonder if you really need the help, though.”

"Do you remember that time in class when I asked you for help with that really simple math problem?" he asked, his tone conspiratorial.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from smiling too widely "I remember thinking you couldn't possibly be that bad at math”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "I wasn't. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." His admission made your heart flutter, and you found yourself looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection

"Really?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief

"Really," he confirmed, his eyes holding yours with a sincerity that left you breathless. "I guess I just needed a way to get your attention.

I guess I just like spending time with you and hearing you talk.”

His admission sends a flutter through your heart, and you glance at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you. There's a sincerity in his eyes that makes your breath catch.

"I like spending time with you too" you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The game around you fades into the background as you and Clapton continue to talk. He shares stories about his adventures in skateboarding, his mishaps in detention, and his dreams for the future.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart, his breath occasionally tickling your neck.

He adjusted his pink hat, then took it off and playfully placed it on your head. “Looks better on you,” he said with a grin. “You can keep it if you want”

Your face remained a permanent shade of red, but despite your initial embarrassment, a sense of exhilaration began to creep in. Clapton’s proximity, his touch, and his words all made you feel a rush of emotions you had never experienced before. Each time he spoke, it was as if the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of you in an intimate bubble.

"Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?" Clapton whispered, his voice dripping with playful insinuation.

You turned your head slightly catching his eyes with yours. "Maybe it's just you," you replied, attempting to match his teasing tone, though your voice was tinged with genuine nervousness.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I don't think so. I've got a feeling it's because of you." His hand gently squeezed your waist, pulling you a fraction closer. His touch was both comforting and thrilling, a juxtaposition that made your heart race.

"You know, I've always thought you were cute when you were deep in thought," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear once again. "But seeing you blush? That's something else entirely”

You felt your cheeks grow even hotter, if that was possible. "I... I didn't know you paid that much attention," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clapton grinned, his eves twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I pay attention to all the important things." He shifted slightly, his thigh pressing against you in a way that made your breath hitch. "Like how you always have that adorable furrow in your brow when you're concentrating on something.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly the tension casing just a bit. "And what else have you noticed?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost grazing your neck. "I've noticed how you always bite your lip when you're nervous. Like right now." His voice was low, intimate, and it made your pulse quicken.

Your instinct was to look away but his gaze held you captive. "Maybe I should stop being so nervous then," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Clapton's eves darkened slightly, a look of genuine affection mingling with his playful demeanor. "I don't mind. It's one of the things I find most endearing about you.”

When the game finally ended and the party began to wind down, Clapton didn't let you go immediately. Instead, he held you a little longer, his eyes searching yours. As people started leaving, he gently pulled you aside, away from the others.

Jake catches your eye, giving you a thumbs up before you lose sight of him, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Clapton expression was serious, yet there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"I really enjoyed having you here tonight, I like you. A lot." he confessed, his voice sincere.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. The guy you had admired from afar, the one who seemed so out of reach, was standing here, confessing his feelings for you. Overwhelmed, you could only manage a shy smile.

His whispers are constant, each one more daring than the last.

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, his voice barely audible over the music still going. His question catches you off guard, and you can feel your face heating up.

“Maybe,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. The truth is, you’ve thought about it more times than you can count.

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your car. “I think about it too,” he confesses, his voice sending another shiver through you. “A lot.”

“What else have you thought about?” you ask, your voice teasing. You’re starting to feel bolder, encouraged by his openness.

“I’ve thought about what it’d be like to hold your hand” he says, his fingers brushing against yours. “To take you out somewhere nice, just the two of us.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache with a mix of hope and nervousness. “That sounds perfect,” you admit, your voice soft.

“I think we’d have a lot of fun together,” he says, his smile widening. “I’d love to see you outside of school.”

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement building. “I’d like that too.” you say your voice filled with anticipation.

To your surprise Clapton leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle at first, a tentative meeting of lips, it quickly deepened as both of you poured months of unspoken emotions into that kiss and all your fears and insecurities melted away in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, and Clapton's smile mirrored the joy you felt inside.

"Can we try this? You and me?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing that this was what you wanted too. The night had started as a leap out of your comfort zone, but it had ended with a dream come true. And as you walked out of the party with Clapton by your side, you knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

Over the following days and weeks, the dynamic between you and Clapton shifted in the most delightful ways. At school, he would find new reasons to approach you, although now his questions were more genuine and thoughtful. "Can you help me with this physics problem?" he would ask, spending the rest of the time staring at your face lovably without understanding your explanations.

He would wait for you after classes, casually leaning against the lockers, his easy smile lighting up when he saw you.

The whispers and curious glances from others became background noise as you grew more comfortable with Clapton's presence in your life. You spent more time together, studying, talking, and discovering shared interests. You learned that despite his laid-back exterior, he had deep passions and aspirations, and he loved hearing about your dreams and ideas.

He also really loved to take you to his favorite skatepark and hear you cheer his name over and over.

Through every shared moment, every whispered conversation, and every tender kiss, Clapton showed you that stepping out of your comfort zone had been the best decision you ever made. The shy intelligent person you once were found that the risks you took led to the most rewarding outcomes.

Note: it’s been a while since I watched the movie so I’m sorry if I got something wrong with him ♡.

[herstarburststories]

Merry... Birthday?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You love christmas, but Dean doesn’t. Yet, he might make an exception for your birthday this year.

A/N: This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr​ ‘s secret fic exchange. My secret Santa was @katymacsupernatural​. Hey, honey! I hope you enjoy this and happy birthday! You deserve double presents, so here’s mine. All mistakes are mine!

Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

You loved Christmas.

It was probably a nostalgic longing for your long gone urban life. Just in the same way you’d still catch yourself looking through the news for election results or feel your stomach twist if you didn’t eat homemade food at least twice a week. You were dead to the government and certainly spent more on the road than in a home. Besides, you had met up with God enough times to know him. All the encounters and screaming and unapologetic abandonment should make you want to throw any baby Jesus against a wall or even climb on a Christmas tree just to shout about all the hoaxes so perfectly molded in patterns through our brains like braids.

Yet, something about you loved christmas. 

The pretty lights always shining, it didn’t matter where you go. For once, all the city-- everything would be entirely made of light. Their incandescent glow always companishing each person, either it was in an once treacherous alley or only to make the kids' grin bigger as they watched them among the busy streets with wide eyed gazes. The confusion in the kitchen that often ended up with huffs bursting into chuckles between the smell of meals that were too much and would make a room for leftovers for the rest of the week. How everything seemed to be made only of happiness, and nothing could ever cut through those water; all the knives were suddenly swords for kids to play and no white gun. In Christmas, a house became a kingdom for every heart. Everything was good and felt through the skin to the bone, like a single glimpse, a hidden day of what would be paradise.

That was how you were raised, at least. The Winchesters didn’t share the same mindset, no. While you grew up with decorating the tree, they were hiding bodies in the dim light. Leftovers were all through their whole year, and Christmas was described as good or not with one single criteria: snow streets. They had to take one? Annoying date. They didn’t and there was eggnog? Bearable Jesus’s birthday.

Yet, you attempted to make the bunker the more festive possible: buying a bunch of christmas lights, cookies’ ingredients and even a small nativity scene. Your attempts to enjoy the date’s niciities ended up with Sam breaking his arm after crashing on the ground because you insisted on him putting the lights in a place higher than his age, not to mention the burned cookies that looked more like tiny monsters than gingerbread men.

Your parents used to make this look so much easier.

Although the youngest Winchester understood a little more about the concept of holidays, a believer in the good until the very end, his brother didn’t share the idea. You couldn’t say you were surprised. Dean just had two barely normal christmas in his life: one when he was dying and one with Lisa and Ben. Both situations made it to his heart only to shatter from the inside.

‘’Baby Jesus?’’ Dean snorted, shaking his head at the sight of you adjusting the weird little dolls in the nativity. He placed another ruined cook in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full next: ‘’We have the son of Lucifer, guess that counts.’’

‘’Don’t say that once Jack gets home.’’ You rolled your eyes, turning to face the oldest Winchester with your hands on your hips. How could he eat that? You couldn’t even make it a bite and Sam only had half of those. ‘’And stop eating those. They are burned.’’

‘’I’ve had worse.’’ He remarked, adding another cookie to his mouth. You grimaced, wondering for a brief moment how your boyfriend could be simultaneously the guy who saved the world and a man with the taste of a five years old.

‘’Yeah. But I’m the one who has to hear you whining about your bellyache later.’’

‘’I don’t whine--’’ You arched your eyebrows at his statement, making Dean huff in agreement. ‘’That was once and because of Sam’s weird ass vegan bacon.’’

‘’You acted like you were dying.’’

‘’My tongue was!’’

‘’So get this.’’ Sam’s voice interrupted your childish argument, catching the attention of both hunters like a shiny object did to a cat. ‘’Apparently we got an earlier christmas gift.’’

‘’What is it?’’ You asked, approaching the table.

‘’Three teenagers disappeared in the forest, all personal objects left behind.’’ Sam explained as Dean scratched out his neck to glance at his brother’s computer screen. Nothing like a case in Colorado. ‘’The authorities think it’s a serial killer. But one of the girls, Kayla Wodson, said she saw a weird, skinny giant take her friends.’’

‘’Ho ho ho and three bodies.’’ Dean clapped his hands together with a wry curve of lips. ‘’Alright. Let’s hit the road-- Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you are going?’’

You were standing beside Dean while Sam raised to his feet, ready to pack his bags. Dean, nonetheless, was quicker than his brother, soon putting himself in front of Sammy; hands protectively standing in front of the youngest’s chest to keep him from moving any further.

He shook his head with a scoff. ‘’Dude, come on.’’

‘’Not happening, Sammy. You got a broken arm.’’ You mumbled a sorry along Dean’s big brother speech, to which Sam replied with a comprehensive smile. ‘’Y/N and I take care of it.’’

‘’He’s right. Must be the first time in his life, but he is.’’ Dean turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you ‘’Don’t worry. It’s just a wendigo anyway. ‘’

‘’Okay. Just…’’

‘’Don’t forget the fireblazer. As if your brother would miss an opportunity to use it.’’ You scrunched up your noise, causing a chortle out of Sam while Dean commented something about grabbing the specific instrument and walked away. ‘’Maybe you could call Eileen. Ask her to help you to back some christmas cookies.’’

Sammy shook his head at your wiggling brows. ‘’That doesn’t sound as sexy for me as it does for you.’’

Dean Winchester was good with numbers.

Not the urban numerical sense of the deal, of course. He almost didn’t make it in sixth grade with useless geometry and all that, and he still used his fingers to count when he had to deal with an equation. No, his good and quick way with numbers was easier, intrinsic to his head.

How many years since mom died? Seventeen. How many people did he have to save? All of them. How many years had he left? Less than he once owned.

Hunter math was simpler, and was all he really needed since he was four years old, running from the fire with his baby brother in his arms-- which brought him to the second section of his particular geometry: birthdays and death anniversaries. Dean never, ever forgot any special date. Those were his own holidays, the only worth celebrating and remembering. His wishes, grief, and cherishment were reserved for the people he loved, not some celestial assholes who saw his life like a book.

Therefore, his mind went on a golden rush for your day as soon as the Wendigo hunt took more than you both expected. You wouldn't be able to make it home before your birthday, which would be ending shortly, a matter of two or three hours. His inner engineers were useful tonight, in his vision, useful enough to make those sappy movies jealous. While you were washing some guts and leaves away, Dean went to the nearest convenience store. His long arms nesting a bunch of stuff he never dared to touch in years. The cashier with drowsy eyes and escarlet Santa hat seemed bored with his shopping, probably because she saw an uncountable amount of people buying the same things over and over. He couldn’t blame her for the suburban exhaustion. If anything, it was a small comfort for his war orbs to see and be a part of a scene so mundane.

He hustled back to the dive motel room, singing in relief to himself once he stepped in and heard you singing Christmas Tree Farm while the water rushed in. He grimaced at himself for recognizing that Taylor Swift song. How couldn’t he? That woman was 80% of all you heard everyday. Man, he was whipped.

Tilting his head back in reality, he started organizing in clumsy manners of putting everything in place for you. His bruised hands touching so carefully the fragile ornaments to make the motel room with grubby walls and weird black stan on the floor that only seemed to grow a little more like you.

You, the woman who put up with him, who laughed at his stupid jokes, and who watched Scooby Doo, all snuggled up to him every friday. You, the woman who switched from AC/DC to Taylor Swift and then Eric Clapton. You, the one who understood his job and helped him to wash off some of the blood on his hand and never got scared of how red the water could get. You, the girl who rolled her eyes at his first attempt of flirting and now stole his french fries and kissed his lips as if he was worth being delicate with. You, his breathing, his true holiday, his only act of faith besides Sammy.

Dean pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, looking up and down his little manual work. Part of him said it was ridiculous, he surely would make a lot of fun of Sam if he did that to a chick. Yet, mostly he was proud. He wanted you to like it. It wasn’t even near to what you deserved, but it was a piece of it. It was what the Winchester could give you, and that would be hopefully, enough.

While Dean was caught in the crossroad of judging and admiring his surprise, you left the shower with a towel wrapped around your head and lips mumbling Cocaine. Your feet glued to the ground once you witnessed what was in front of you: the room was decorated with christmas lights, a tiny plastic tree on the table, right beside a pie with candle on the top and two cup of what smelled like hot cocoa.

‘’Dean…’’ Your tender tone brought him back from his traineck thoughts as he turned around to glance at you. You chortled in astonishment as he raised his eyes and said surprise! ‘’What’s this?’’

‘’Well, it’s your birthday.’’ He shrugged, scooting closer to you with a smirk. Dean smoothly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours instantly resting around his neck. ‘’In my defense, they just had christmas stuff. Blame your parents for having you close to Jesus’ special day.’’

‘’Christmas stuff include pie and not cake?’’ Your brows knitted together, a heartwarming smile on your lips as you watched his expression marked by multicolored little lights. He smelled like something was a blaze, and you knew that was for standing too close to the candle and not for burning a body this time. Small changes.

He scoffed humorously. ‘’You like pie better anyway.’’ He nodded at the carnival-like situation around you two. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who got insecure, but you could catch a perk of brand nervous hesitation as his green eyes shot you an anxious glance. ‘’Did you like it?’’

‘’I loved it.’’ You pulled cheeks dimpled with joy that was kissed by Dean’s own smiling lips. The kiss was so gentle, it was his own palpable light hearted emotion. You being happy in his arms. It had been so long since he felt he could be enough, he could make someone happy. But you were right there. As you pulled away, another short kiss was given between playful words: ‘’That’s what I call a christmas miracle.’’

‘’Shush.’’ He leaned in and pecked your lips. As Dean pulled back, he couldn’t help but watch around with the pride of Hubris. His glance went back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. God, you loved that smile. You loved that man. ‘’So I added some whiskey to the hot cocoa. We could drink some, eat the pie, and see if those lights make a good improvise rope. What do you tell me?’’

All you could do was kiss him again.

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[legalvinyl]

An Electrifying Blues Performance by Rock Veterans The Black Crowes

After being delayed for well over a year following the heavily influential covid outbreak, last Saturday’s performance by the Black Crowes proved that live music is back and possibly even better than ever.  I arrived at the show more than two hours in advance and was surprised to see the main parking lot fully packed already, people happily throwing frisbees and sandbags for cornhole as the radiant sun gently settled down into the horizon on a beautiful late-summer night in Homdel, New Jersey.  Even the auxiliary parking lot was packed with most of the same tailgating affairs, this time with the sweet smell of barbecues cooking American favorites along a line in the back of the lot.  The energy was great; a fairly old crowd for a young 20-year-old to be around, but still a lot of positivity and appreciation for a show that, at one time at least, looked like it would never actually happen.

I could hear music already as I descended the stairs of the shuttle bus, which was merely a school bus with an outfitted stereo blasting classic 80’s jams, and it had that warm, saturated classic rock tone that reminded me of all the concerts from the 60’s that I’d never been able to see personally but adored watching in retrospect on YouTube.  PNC Arts Center was just getting warmed up however, and although I thought the opening act, Dirty Honey, did a great job setting the mood and getting the groove going, they were no match for the ‘Crowes, who really couldn’t be beat that night anyways.  

Dirty Honey’s setup was demarcated by a big banner proudly displaying their name, separating the stage into a smaller section with all the instruments near the front, but it was obvious that there was a lot more going on behind that screen.  I was especially interested, being a guitar player myself, at the interesting mix of amplifiers that peaked out around the sides.  Oranges, Voxes, a Magnatone stack-I’ll stop there before I geek out too much.  Dirty Honey’s guitar player had a classic Marshall stack, and I was right in the direction of his amp so I could hear all that glorious cranked up sound not just through the coloring PA monitors.  The rest of the band was tight, too, and played with a certain bravado and confidence that made them seem as if they’ve been performing effortlessly for years.  They had a very Aerosmith-meets-Guns N Roses sound, and it kept enough of the bluesy theme for the band to follow without becoming repetitive or too contrived.

The Black Crowe’s came out to an old-school, wild-west bar scene toward the back left-side of the stage.  Looking collected and totally in the zone, the band swung their prop drinks in the air and made out like they were having a grand old time.  Like old friends uniting at their favorite old bar spot after a day of motorcycling across the vast American west.  One member slinks off behind the bar and appears in the next moment with a guitar in his hand, strumming a proud opening guitar riff to the song Twice As Hard.  After a few phrases, the rest of the band appears at their positions having grabbed all their necessary tools from roadies obscured to the side of the stage, and they jump into the first track.  They immediately sound great as a band, with a tight rhythm section led primarily by the drummer’s commanding right foot, but the mix leaves something to be desired; luckily, all the sliders on the mixing board are sorted before the end of the first song, and the sound remains great throughout the rest of their performance allowing the talented musicians to really leave an individualistic impression on a classic, blues-based collage of tracks.  The band plays through the entirety of their hit album, Shake Your Money Maker, and no song goes without clapping and applause.  By the third track every band member is really in the groove, and you can tell that they were having a great time, as well, as they looked at each other during dynamics and solos in little nods of approval.  

The Black Crowe’s are led by two brothers, Chris and Rich Robinson, and as is often the case with brothers in a rock band, they’ve had their rough patches in the band’s history.  But absolutely no hint of animosity was present in the show.  In fact, Chris took a moment to celebrate his brother’s birthday which happened to be on the day of the concert, and Rich seemed like he was celebrating his birthday in his favorite fashion-rocking out and picking up good vibes from the audience.  I loved how the band managed to alter their tone throughout the show even though they played a majority of songs from only one record that has one particular sound.  The two guitarists switched amps and guitars throughout, but always managed to sound balanced and rich in texture.  Chris’s vocals sounded great, as well, and he barely relied on his two backup singers who spent a good portion of the show dancing rather than trying to fill in or take the burden off the vocal section.  Chris sounded lively and energetic, and he moved around the stage like a true classic rock singer who knows they must be as entertaining as they sound in order to convey the true spirit of a rock performance.  I would also be remiss without mentioning how great the lead guitarist, Isaiah Mitchell played all night long.  As a longtime fan of strong lead players like Mick Taylor, his sound and techniques, whether playing with a pick, using a slide or picking with his fingers celebrated the spirit of fantastic guitarists like Mick, and I felt that this was the closest I would ever get to hearing a true masterful lead player in person, something I was especially blown away by considering how little recognition Isaiah gets as a player in the guitar community.  He could’ve blown Clapton off the stage that night and trust me I would never say that about an amateur player.

With enough hit songs in the setlist to catch the ears of even the most casual fans in conjunction with some hand-picked favorites that only dedicated fans would know, The Black Crowes performed a fantastic show with plenty of tonal and rhythmic variety to keep things interesting despite the heavy blues focus.  Given their age, every band member brought considerable energy and vivacity to this performance, and I’d be shocked if they could perform better than this on another tour date that will bring them all the way from the American west coast to Europe later this fall.  If you’re lucky enough to catch them on a later tour date, I highly recommend going and even urge you to consider picking an upscale seat as it’ll allow you to appreciate the finer details of their cohesive and masterful mix of good-old, blues-based rock n’ roll.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Dancing the Night Away [Bale!Bruce Wayne]

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

Request: Can you please write an imagine where Bruce’s significant other gets wine drunk and steals his shirts and dances around his kitchen in socks and sit on his counters and sway with him while he’s super amused and whispers in her ear? Please and thank you!!

Tagged: @kittenlittle24​

Songs: ‘I Can Dream About You’ by Dan Hartman & ‘Wonderful Tonight’ by Eric Clapton

Y/N sat on the kitchen island, swinging her feet as she stared at the clock in front of her.

2:45 AM.

She sighed as she took another swing of the bottle of Zinfandel. She was halfway through her second bottle and the room was spinning around her.

In truth, she missed Bruce. She knew he was out making the streets of Gotham City a safer place but by god, she needed some attention and love and honestly...a good fucking.

It had been forever since they had some quiet time and she was sure since Alfred was out of town, she and Bruce could make the penthouse theirs; however, Batman didn’t take vacations and neither did Bruce Wayne.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she reduced herself to one of his dress shirts and her underwear and some knee high socks, but here she was. She felt comfortable, and in her own way, sexy.

But here she was all cute and whatnot and for what? Just to be by herself?

Before she could deem such a thing a waster, an idea came to mind. She could live out her own wildest fantasy. The one she’s dreamed of having when it came to having a whole ass apartment by herself.

She grabbed her iPhone and connected it to the Bluetooth speaker. She put on her favorite song, the synthesizer introduction getting her into the mood as she swayed her hips. She let down her hair and grabbed the bottle, as she took a huge sip while dancing and lip syncing along to the music.

“No more timing

Each tear that falls from my eyes

I'm not hiding

The remedy to cure this old heart of mine

I can dream about you

If I can't hold you tonight

I can dream about you

You know how to hold me just right

I can dream about you

If I can't hold you tonight

I can dream about you

You know how to hold me just right.....” 

Her eyes were closed as tiny beads of sweat began to trickle down her face and body. Her hair flung wildly as did her hips and arms. She jumped on the couch, her body grinding along.

She was so engrossed in the music that she didn’t hear the door click open. Bruce, on the other hand, expected to come home to a quiet penthouse and find Y/N asleep. 

But instead he found her in his shirt and her lace underwear, dancing on top of the couch with an almost empty bottle of wine. His lips curved into a smirk as leaned against the wall and watched her. 

It wasn’t until she whipped her head and opened her eyes that she saw him. Instead of getting embarrassed, she jumped off the couch and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist. Thankfully his reflexes anticipated this.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed, pressing her lips on his. “I missed you!” 

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You taste like red wine.” 

“Yeaaaaahhh I may have a bottle...or two.” She giggled, throwing her head back. “I just missed you and I was bored and then I figured I’d surprise you and then I got bored...and then I got thirsty...” 

As she rambled, Bruce couldn’t help but think how goddamn adorable she was. She was also a rather clingy drunk, as she kept wrapping her closer to him. He figured with them having the penthouse to themselves they would be able to have some alone time, but his schedule made it tough. Yet she never complained, not once. She would give him a little kiss, remind him to ‘be careful’ and then let him go do what he needed to. 

He carried her into the kitchen, setting her down on the counter as she continued rambling.

“....and then I figured ‘ah fuck it’ and now here we are!” she finished, letting out a little hiccup at the end. 

He nodded his head before she grabbed his face and crashed her lips against his. 

“I can dream about you

I'm gonna press my lips against you and hold you to me

I can dream about you

You know you got me spellbound what else can it be....”

She pulled back and rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him with a huge smile. He chuckled lowly. “Bcc Why’d you stop?”

“Because I wanted to see your handsome face.” Her fingers gently caressed his cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t get a black eye tonight.” 

He pulled back his lips, holding back laughter. “I’m glad too.” 

She pecked his nose with her lips and took his hand. “Come dance with me

“Babe...” 

“Pleaaaaaasssseee! Just one dance.” 

 “I’m not a very good dancer.” 

“Did they not teach you to slow dance at boarding school?” 

He sighed playfully in defeat, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Alright, fine. One dance.”

She clapped her hands and picked up her iPhone. After typing, she set it down and “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton began to play. Bruce helped her off the counter and led her to the middle of the living room. He slid one arm around her waist, holding out their intertwined fingers in the other as they began to sway.

“Hmmm...maybe you’re not a terrible dancer after all,” she whispered.

Bruce shook his head. “You’re a piece of work.”

“But I’m your piece of work, right?”

“Exactly.”

She closed her eyes getting lost in the moment. Even in her inebriated state, she managed to feel some sort of peace and balance. He kept her at bay.

Bruce didn’t anticipate on coming home and slow dancing after a long night out, but he was secretly glad she talked him into it.

“I feel wonderful because I see

The love light in your eyes

And the wonder of it all

Is that you just don't realize how much I love you...”

Y/N pulled her head back and wrapped her arms around his neck, as his hands fell back down to her waist. Her lips hovered over his.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”

His lips pressed against hers, his hands moving up to cradle her face. She pressed the kiss even further as both of them found themselves lost in each other.

“It's time to go home now and I've got an aching head

So I give her the car keys and she helps me to bed

And then I tell her, as I turn out the light

I say, "My darling, you were wonderful tonight

Oh my darling, you were wonderful tonight...”

[axwalker]

Tears in heaven 7: Grief

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings: Liam x MC Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:   This is an 18+ blog.

IN THIS CHAPTER: CAR ACCIDENT, DEATH OF A CHILD, GRIEVING PARENTS.

 if you’re triggered by any of these issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

To catch up: Masterlist

A/N: The story will go back and forth between two different periods of time (2015-2019) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

Thanks to @burnsoslow for so so so much. Not only she corrected my several English mistakes but she helped me with her feedback, and with Alexis’s letter and the horrible phone call she receives.I LOVE YOU  ❤️

Thank you @pedudley for beta reading, for ALL the feedback and for listening to my incessant whining while I was writing this chapter. I LOVE YOU  ❤️

November 2014 – November 2018

That Saturday had started like many others before. Drake woke up early to the sight of Alexis’s soft, bare skin next to him. He leaned over to pepper her back with lusty kisses. They were going to be apart the whole weekend, and Drake wanted to show his beautiful wife just how much he was going to miss her. Alexis woke up smiling and enjoying the jolts of pleasure that his ministrations always produced. Unfortunately, they both heard the voice calling them from the next room, suddenly interrupting their morning plans. Drake chuckled, resigned, as Alexis put on his Rolling Stones T-shirt. Twenty seconds later, Drake brought a sleepy Tom to the room with a book in his hands.

“C’mere, little man.” Drake placed him next to Alexis in their bed. Tom snuggled against his mother and gave her his favorite book as he did every Saturday morning. “I’ll go make us breakfast, Lexie,” he said and left for the kitchen after placing soft kisses on Tom’s and Alexis’ heads.

“Let’s see what you have this morning, Peanut.” She read the title out loud: “The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You really like this one, don’t you, hon?”

Tom nodded vigorously.  Alexis giggled and started reading as her son ran his little fingers over the drawings of the book.

When their reading was over, Alexis took Tom to his room. She went to the drawers to pick out his clothes.

“So, Shrek or Cars, Peanut?” she asked as she pulled out two different T-shirts from the top drawer.

“Shek!” Tom yelled excited.

“‘Shek’ it is, then,” she said, winking at him.

After a few minutes of chasing Tom around the room because he refused to wear his pants, they came down to the kitchen.

Drake chuckled at the sight of Tom wearing his green Shrek T-shirt with yellow pants and the cowboy boots Bianca had sent from Texas. His mother didn’t even know Tom. Those boots were the only gift she had sent him in three years, but Tom loved them.

“Bold choice of outfit, little man. Uncle Max will be proud.”

Alexis giggled. “He refused to wear anything else,” she said, placing Tom in his chair. “I can believe I have to work on a Saturday. I’m going to miss you two so much.” She pouted.

Drake was going with Tom to Ramsford for Savannah’s birthday. Alexis had gotten a job as the assistant to a renowned literary agent. She loved it, but it meant that she had to leave with her boss for the weekend to Portavira’s Book Fair.

Drake cupped her face before speaking. “You’re killing me with that sad little face. The weekend will be over before you know it. Tomorrow night we will be here waiting here for you, and we’ll have dinner ready. Do you want to cook with Dad, Peanut?”

Tom clapped with the spoon still in his hand, splashing strawberry yogurt all over the kitchen. “We make cake for Mommy!”

She took a kitchen towel and cleaned the mess, smiling at Tom’s vitality. “Well, if a delicious chocolate cake will be here waiting for me, I’ll be very motivated to come back as fast as possible.”

“I hope you’ll be motivated by more than cake, Lexie,” Drake said teasingly as he served them the food; he had prepared his Saturday special: Belgian waffles with Nutella and fresh bananas.

Alexis gave him a sultry kiss and whispered in his ear, “Finishing what you started this morning is definitely motivation number one.”  

Drake blushed. God, she loved him so much it hurt. “You look cute blushing, Mr. Walker.”

He chuckled. “I love you, Mrs. Walker.”

They ate and talked until Alexis’s phone beeped with a message. “Fuck, Drake! It’s Charlie; her car is picking me up in less than 10 minutes.”

Drake smirked. “A dollar in the jar, baby. And I’d like to remind you that you’re losing,” he added smugly.

Alexis stuck her tongue out at him, making Tom laugh. She took a bill out of her wallet and put it in the jar they had placed in the kitchen. They were both trying to stop swearing in front of Tom. Surprisingly enough, Drake was much better at it than she was.

After fetching her bag and coat, she sat on her husband’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. “I have to go -- please take care of our baby. I’m going to miss you two like crazy.”

He gave her a small peck on her nose. “Me too, Lexie, and don’t worry. We’ll see each other tomorrow night. Right, little man? Are you ready to have an adventure with your dad?”

“Yes, an aventure!” Tom exclaimed, beaming and making his parents laugh.

After saying goodbye to Drake with a deep kiss, Alexis took Tom out of his chair and bounced him around, making him giggle. “You behave, Peanut. I will be thinking about you,” she said, rubbing his stomach. “I love you so, so much, my baby.”

Tom placed his small hands on her face. “Me too, Mommy.” Her heart tugged when she put her little boy back in his chair. She was having more trouble than usual saying goodbye.

Drake smiled at the scene. He scooped Tom up into his arms, and they went to the door to wave Alexis goodbye as her car drove away.

Alexis worked hard that day; Charlie was a great but demanding boss. That night, she went to bed with The Goldfinch, Donna Tart’s latest novel. Tart was one of her favorite authors, but she was unable to focus on the story. Alexis finally closed the book and unplugged her phone. Scrolling through The Cordonian Times News website, she saw that a huge storm was about to hit Ramsford. She decided to call Drake.

“Hi, baby. How was the Fair?” he asked.

“Great! You know Charlie. She’s a shark. Three new writers will be signing their contracts next week.” She toyed with her ring before adding, “I just saw that it was rainy as hell in Ramsford.”

“Yeah, the storm is pretty shitty, but I’m a good driver, Lexie. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at Ramsford tonight? It’s safer. Please?” she insisted.

“Yes, I’m sure. But please don’t worry, baby. I’ll be careful,” he answered, smiling. She worried too much about them.

Alexis knew better than to insist; Drake was even more stubborn than her. “Fine. Is our Peanut having fun? Did you take pictures?”

“Yes, lots of pictures. I’ll send them when we hang up. He’s napping now, but Max and Liam played with him all afternoon. I swear, I don’t know which of the three of them was having more fun.” Alexis giggled, making Drake terribly nostalgic. “I miss you so much, baby. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

Alexis looked at the picture of them that she kept in her wallet. “Me too, Drake. And I’m glad that Tom is having so much fun. Tell him I love him with all my heart. I’m sorry he’s napping; I was hoping to talk to him.” She sighed, before adding, with a hint of worry in her voice, “Drake, please be careful. Don’t leave Ramsford if it’s raining too much.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll call you when we get there. I love you like crazy, Lexie.”  

“I love you like crazy too, Drake. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” Both of them hung up the phone smiling.

Drake looked out the window. The storm had calmed down, but it was still raining. He decided to leave anyway; he was a good driver, and the cabin wasn’t far from Ramsford.

He secured Tom in his car seat and left.

They had been on the road for half an hour when Drake took a sharp curve. It happened in a matter of seconds: The wet road caused the Jeep’s tires to slide; Drake reacted fast and was able to regain control of his car.

But the car behind Drake’s didn’t react so quickly. The gray sedan crashed into Drake’s Jeep on the right side ... where Tom was sleeping.

Alexis had fallen asleep with her phone in her hand. She woke up and checked the time: 11:30.

That was weird; Drake should have called her by now. Alexis called Drake, but it went straight to voicemail.

An uneasy feeling took over. She called Savannah, who told her that Drake had left Ramsford around 9:30. She suggested that maybe they had arrived at the cabin and fallen asleep. Alexis thanked her and hung up. She knew Drake by heart -- he would never go to sleep without calling her first. She opened a bottle of water trying to calm herself. She was surely overreacting.

Suddenly, her phone rang, startling her: an unknown number. Alexis took a sharp breath before answering the call that would change her life.

“Hello?”

“Good evening. Am I speaking with Alexis Walker?”

“Yes, this is she.” Ice settled in her stomach.

“Mrs. Walker, this is Lynn from Ramsford Hospital. Your husband and son were involved in a car accident tonight. Are you able to come right now?”

Alexis couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. “Hello?” She swallowed. “Yes. I’ll be there. Are -- are they safe?” “Your little boy is in surgery. Your husband is being checked by a doctor. We’ll have more information when you arrive, Mrs. Walker.”

“Th-thank you.”

But the woman had already hung up.

Charlie insisted that Alexis take her car and driver. Alexis accepted and left immediately.  The questions and uncertainty were killing her. During the torturous four-hour drive, she didn’t stop bargaining. If they’re okay, I will never complain again. I promise, God, I’ll never take them for granted. If you let them live, I’ll come to church every Sunday. Every day. I swear. Please, God, just let them be fine. Please, I beg you.

Alexis arrived at Ramsford Hospital around 4:00. She had practically jumped out of the car and run to the reception desk. She saw Maxwell and Liam sitting in the waiting room.

“Where are they? How are they?” Alexis realized how hysterical she sounded, but she didn’t care.

“Blossom! Thank God you’re here! Drake is fine; he suffered a small concussion and some bruises, but he’ll be fine.”

Alexis nodded, terrified of asking about Tom. Maxwell took a sharp breath before speaking. “Tom has been in surgery for a few hours ... the doctor will come out with an update soon.”

She nodded again, feeling a sudden need to see Drake. “Take me to Drake, Max. Please. I need to make sure he’s fine.”

Drake was sitting on a bed in the ER with Savannah. His eyes were red and puffy. He had scratches and bruises all over his face and arms, and a doctor had patched up his head with a bandage.

Alexis ran to him, intensely relieved to confirm that he was okay. Drake stood up and hugged her tightly, his eyes tearing up again. Alexis had never seen her usually-confident husband in such a state of desperation. It scared her to death.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. He has been in surgery for hours.” His voice broke. “They won’t tell me what’s going on!”

Drake wrapped his arms around her; she sobbed against his chest for a long time, waiting for the doctor to come. After a few more hours, the surgeon and a young nurse entered the ER. Drake was facing the door, so he saw them before her. His heart stopped.

The doctor’s expression told him everything he needed to know.

Drake held Alexis tighter, trying to shield her with his arms for a few more seconds from the pain they were about to experience.

The doctor cleared his throat. Alexis turned her head, trembling, unable to breathe. He took his cap off and held it in his hand.

“I’m very sorry. We did everything we could, but-”

Alexis shook her head. “No, no, no, no!” She didn’t realize she was screaming. “Don’t say it! No! It's a mistake.” She turned to Drake, crying hysterically. “Drake, please tell me that Tom is ok. Please, my love. I beg you.”

Drake held her, but he was shaking himself; he felt his heart actually breaking. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” he said, crying. He was trying to calm Alexis, but his words had the opposite effect. She bawled desperately. Her heart seemed to pound even faster, even harder. She tried taking a deep breath to calm herself, but her breaths were sharp and shallow. Her vision got darker and narrower.  She heard Drake’s panicked voice as if he was talking to her from a long distance. She barely felt a nurse injecting a sedative into her arm … and then everything went dark.

Alexis woke up, and for a few seconds she didn’t remember. But when she opened her eyes, the sight of the fluorescent light in the ceiling brought everything back. Her heart broke all over again as it would break so many times in the future. Drake was sitting on a chair next to her. He hadn’t slept all night as his eyes stared at his phone, looking at Tom’s last pictures. He heard Alexis moving on the bed, so he went to sit next to her and took her in his arms. She hid in his chest and cried again while he soothed her, rubbing her face with his fingers. Alexis couldn’t believe that she would never see her little boy again. It simply couldn’t be true.

“I want to see him.” Her voice was trembling.

“They were waiting for you before … before taking him. Let’s go.” He helped her out of bed and called a nurse who took them to see Tom one last time.  

Those last moments with their son were the saddest moments of Alexis’ and Drake’s lives. Alexis refused to let go of him until a nurse gave her another sedative.

Alexis spent the first four weeks after Tom’s death sedated. She went to his funeral, but she wasn’t really present. Drake took care of everything with Savannah's and Liam’s help. After the ceremony, she went back to bed and lay there for hours staring at the ceiling. The pills had the side effect of making her feel empty and numb, but at least the pain in her heart was silent. Drake fed her and took care of her during that time.

After Tom’s death, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Drake’s emotions were a mix of sorrow, emptiness and desperation. The “what if”s were going to make him crazy with guilt. He tried to use alcohol to drown his shame and grief, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

Five weeks after Tom’s death, Alexis heard a noise in the middle of the night. She got out of bed and found Drake crying in Tom’s room. Her heart tugged seeing him so broken. She sat on the floor next to him and hugged him. They held each other for hours, crying for their son.

From that day on, Alexis started to get out of bed. She stopped taking the sedatives and promised herself that she would try to fight for herself and Drake. It worked for a couple of days, but soon the mere effort of waking up in the morning was exhausting. Everything was exhausting. Alexis did it anyway. She’d wake up, take a shower and go to Tom’s room. She only meant to spend a couple of hours there, but once she went inside, she wasn’t able to leave. And more often than not, the whole day passed with her crying there, incapable of doing anything else.

Drake was destroyed too. Tom had been the light of his life. Sometimes he felt like a sunken ship.  

During the second month after his death, they shared some afternoons where they’d cuddled against each other in front of the fire without speaking, just trying to cope with the deep pain. Those few stolen moments were Drake’s and Alexis’ solace. But they were unable to really communicate, to speak of the bubbling feelings beneath the surface.

Without the pills, Alexis’ mind wasn’t foggy anymore. She felt a deep, breaking pain in her heart and a colossal rage circulating through her veins. At first, her bitterness was directed at God, at life, at fate. But soon, Alexis started to be angry at Drake, too. She tried with all her heart to stop those feelings, but she couldn’t. Drake had chosen to drive in the middle of the storm, after she had asked him to stay in Ramsford. And that had cost her son his life.

Alexis didn’t want to hurt him or to add to his guilt, so she started to avoid him as much as possible. It didn’t work. Drake’s way to cope with his own grief was to take care of her. He truly believed that their love would be enough to keep them together, and for a fleeting moment, Alexis had believed it too.

The rage that Alexis felt for him began as a small spark, but it had soon turned into a burning fire that scared her. She was distant and cold and did everything she could to drive him away.

Drake tried his best to make her feel better. He had even suggested visiting a counselor or joining a grief group. The same Drake Walker who hated to share or talk about his feelings was willing to do it for her. They went once, and it was a disaster. Drake had tried to share a memory of Tom, but the words simply didn’t come out. Alexis had brooded and scowled the whole time.

Alexis felt like she was going to explode with all the emotions she was feeling. She became rude, evasive. She ended up moving into the guest room. Drake was desperate; he tried to make her understand that he loved her, that he needed her.

It was the three-month anniversary of Tom’s death. After yet another sleepless night, she went to Tom’s room. She lay in his tiny bed and cried all day. Drake tried to comfort her, to hold her. But she had chased him away, more haunted than ever by his brown eyes. That night, she had come down to the living room and saw Drake drinking. Alexis sat next to him and poured herself a big glass of whiskey. She gulped it, poured herself another one and gulped it, too.

“I can’t do this anymore, Drake.” Alexis was crying wholeheartedly.

Drake sighed as he looked at her. She had lost 10 pounds and looked tired, pale, extremely depressed. It was the first time since they had met that he didn’t dare take her into his arms. “We need to get help, Lexie.”

Alexis scoffed, “Do you mean like that amazing support group you signed us for?”

For three months, Drake had tried to be supportive and patient. But he felt lost and tired;he didn’t know what to do anymore.

He gulped his tumbler of whiskey before he answered, “I’m doing what I can to help you, Lexie. But you won’t let me. I want us to fight this together.”

Alexis balled her fists. All the feelings that had been accumulating for the last months were threatening to explode.

“I don’t need anyone’s help.” She felt like burning inside. “Especially not yours.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Alexis?” Drake stood up next to her.  

When she finally answered, her voice was trembling with fury. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” Drake asked, puzzled.

Alexis’s eyes filled with tears. “Why did you have to come back that night? Why couldn’t you listen to me? I told you it was raining, I told you it wasn’t safe.” Something dark and dangerous had taken over her, and she couldn’t stop. “But no. You always have to be right, so you couldn’t do what I asked. And now he’s dead. MY SON IS DEAD because you’re too fucking stubborn.”

Drake raised his voice, too. “OUR son, Alexis. TOM was OUR son. I miss him just as much as you do. Stop acting like you’re the only one who lost him.” He sighed to calm himself. He raised a hand to touch Alexis’ face, but she dodged it. “You have no fucking idea how it feels when I try to get close to you and you reject me every goddamn time.”

Alexis tried to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. She answered, furious, “Can’t you understand that looking at you fucking hurts? Every time I see your eyes, I see him. And it’s driving me crazy. It breaks my heart every single time.” She took a swig of whiskey to calm herself, but it didn’t help. “You can’t help me; you’re actually hurting me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re drunk,” Drake stated, pointing at her glass.

“Yes, I am drunk. But that doesn’t change the fact that it hurts so fucking badly, Drake. Why? Why did you do it?” She shoved him.

“Stop!” He grabbed her wrists. He couldn’t believe what she was implying. “Stop it, Alexis!”

She was bawling, agitated. She wanted to take the weight of her emotions off her chest, so she yelled at him without thinking. “You killed him! You killed our son, and I will never be able to forget that.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. But it was too late.

Everything went silent for a few seconds. Drake’s mouth went dry. His heart stopped. Every time her eyes darted when she looked at him, or every time she flinched when he touched her, he wondered if she blamed him for the accident. But until that moment, he had refused to actually believe it.

Letting go of her wrists, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and his glass. He spoke with a gravelly voice. “You’re drunk, I’m drunk. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alexis swallowed her tears so she could talk. “No, Drake. I’m very sorry for what I just said. You have no idea how much, but I can’t do this anymore. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Drake went up the stairs. The weight of her words oppressed him. He lay down on the bed and tried to drink his pain away.

Alexis stood in the middle of the living room hating herself for hurting him. She didn’t want to feel so angry at him, but the rage was stronger than her. She curled up on the couch and cried for a long time -- for her son, for the horrible pain of missing him so much. And for Drake, for the man she loved so desperately but was unable to forgive. Alexis needed to leave, to flee from their house, from the grief. She prepared a small bag with some clothes she had in the guest room. Before leaving, she went to their room where Drake was sleeping heavily after finishing the bottle of whiskey. Crying again, her heart broken, she kissed his forehead and muttered a sad good-bye. She took off her wedding rings and set them on the nightstand. Drake needed to understand that she wasn’t going to come back for a while.

When she arrived at Maxwell’s loft, she took her old sedatives from her bag. Now that Alexis was away from Drake, she didn’t need to fight anymore. She was exhausted from pretending that she wanted to be alive. So she took two pills with a glass of water and finally fell asleep.

For almost two days, thanks to the sedatives, Alexis didn’t do much besides sleeping and waking in a fog to drink a bit of water. She was exhausted after all the sleepless nights she had had since her son had died. Maxwell checked up on her regularly, but he let her rest. On the third day, he entered her room with a steaming cup of coffee.

“Here, Blossom.”

Alexis grabbed the cup and took a sip. “Thank you, Max.” Her eyes teared up.

Maxwell sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. “What happened with Drake, Blossom?” he asked, concerned.

“It was my fault. I’m so angry all the time, Max.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I tried not to be -- I really did -- but that night, something snapped. I said horrible things to him. And the worst part is that I love him so much, but I can’t stop feeling like that.” Her lip quivered. “I didn’t want to hurt him like I did. I swear, Max. He looked so broken.” The memory made her cry again.

“Calm down, Blossom. You need to talk to him. Even if it’s a painful conversation, you need to talk. Drake has called several times since yesterday; he’s worried about you. I’ll take you back to the cabin.”

Alexis was utterly confused. She didn’t know if their relationship could be saved. She didn’t know if she would be able to overcome her bitterness. But she still loved him with everything in her, and she owed it to Drake and herself to at least try.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll take a shower and then we can leave.”

When Alexis arrived at their cabin, everything was silent. With a huge lump in her throat, she went upstairs. Drake was gone. He had taken some clothes, photos, and her wedding rings. Alexis sat in their bed and cried for everything she had lost. The next day, she left the cabin and rented a small studio with her savings. After that day, her grief became more and more difficult to bear.

Drake woke up the morning after the fight feeling dead inside. His desperation only got deeper when he discovered that Alexis had disappeared, leaving her wedding rings on the nightstand. Drake spent all morning trying desperately to find her, until Maxwell finally answered his phone and told him that Alexis was at his house, that she needed time.

During those two days, Drake called Alexis several times, but every time, Maxwell told him that she was sleeping. Drake knew that it was a lie; Alexis barely slept more than a few hours a night. He thought about going to Max’s loft but dismissed the idea. It was pointless to force her.

Her words replayed in his head over and over again. Looking at you fucking hurts. It breaks my heart every single time. You’re actually hurting me. You killed my son. Drake felt the weight of his guilt crushing him

Forty-eight hours later, Alexis hadn’t contacted him or answered his calls. With her wedding rings wrapped in his hand, Drake realized that it was time to accept that she had really left him. He couldn’t stay there. He was going to die if he had to keep living alone in the cabin where they had been so fucking happy. Alexis was everywhere. Tom was everywhere. The next day, he tried to call her one last time, but she didn’t answer. Drake didn’t insist anymore. He left for Spain, destroyed. Before getting on the plane, he called Liam to ask him to take care of Alexis; Drake knew his best friend wouldn’t fail him.

After three hellish months in Andalucía, Olivia had called him to tell him how desperately depressed Alexis was. Drake immediately tried to fly back to Cordonia to be with her, but he had only found tickets for the next morning. That single night changed everything. Drake had been arrested and sent to prison. He asked Bastien and Savannah to keep his secret because he didn’t want to worry Alexis or distract Liam from helping her.

Drake felt desperate knowing that he couldn’t help her himself. Savannah and Bastien visited him often, but no matter how much he insisted, they never talked about Alexis. Drake sensed that they were hiding something, but it wasn’t until his release that his sister had told him the truth: Alexis had been committed to a clinic after she had tried to kill herself.

Drake didn’t lose any time and jumped on the first plane back to Cordonia to be with her. Sick with worry, Drake didn’t even go to his house to leave his bag; he had gone from the airport directly to the clinic.

When Drake had seen Liam at the hospital, he was relieved to confirm that his best friend had kept his promise; Alexis hadn’t been alone. Liam had known nothing about his stay in prison, so Drake wasn’t surprised at his best friend’s cold reception. The only thing that mattered to Drake at that moment was Alexis. Seeing her again had been the only thing that had kept him alive.

Drake would never forgive himself for all those months that Alexis had been forced to fight her depression alone, without him there to help her. If she gave him another chance, Drake would spend the rest of his life showing her how much he regretted it, how much he loved her.

Liam had asked him to come back the next day. Apparently, Alexis needed time to get used to the idea of seeing him again. Drake accepted willingly. He was desperate to see Alexis, but her recovery was the absolute priority.

But the next day, things didn’t go as he had hoped.

“You left a broken woman, Drake. She has been in hell, depressed and missing you for months. You have no right to come back and burst into her life, now that she’s finally doing better.” Liam cleared his throat. “She told me she doesn’t want to see you anymore. I’d say I’m sorry, but frankly, I agree with her decision,” Liam said, taking an envelope from his jacket and giving it to him. “This is the letter she wrote to you before she tried to kill herself. I didn’t read it, but I know she was desperate. Seeing you again will trigger her and probably set her recovery back months.  If you still want to see her after you read this, call me, and I’ll talk to her. But for Alexis’ sake, I really hope you won’t insist anymore.”

Drake sat on a bench and opened the letter.

Drake, my love,

Before anything else, I beg you to forgive me. For all of it: blaming you. The words I said. This.

I blamed you for the accident and I drove you away.

It was never your fault. I knew that all along.

And now? I have nothing. There is nothing without him. I have walked through the last seven months in a fog of desperation, and I can’t do it anymore.  

I don't even want to try.

Please move on. Live your life. Be strong the way I cannot be.

It is what he would have wanted.

I have always loved you, with everything in me.

Your Lexie

Drake sat on the park bench and read her letter several times. It was devastating. Picturing her grief, her pain, in his mind was hard enough. But having to face it, having to read firsthand how broken the love of his life had been, was more than Drake could handle.

In spite of what Alexis said in her letter, Drake knew that Tom’s death was his fault. He was also aware that Liam was lying. Drake was sure that Alexis didn’t know that he was looking for her. But Liam was right; after all she had suffered, nothing was worth jeopardizing her recovery for -- least of all him. Drake hadn’t even gone back to his cabin that night. He went to the cemetery first to visit his son’s grave. Then he left directly for the airport, headed back to Spain.

His first year back in Andalucía had been a nightmare. Until then, Drake had stupidly clung to the idea of seeing Alexis again. She had been his motivation to stop drinking, to get help from the prison counselor. Her face was the last thing he saw before falling asleep every night. After all that hope, Drake had a rough time accepting that he had lost her forever.

For a few months, Drake went back to his old bad behaviors and heavy drinking. But one night, reading her letter for the hundredth time, he realized that Alexis was right. Tom would have wanted him to move on. Drake couldn’t continue to hide behind his grief anymore. He suddenly felt the urge to fight for himself. Little by little, he tried to get better. He couldn’t practice as a veterinarian in Spain, so he took a job in a stable training horses and moved out of Bastien’s house into his own apartment. And most importantly, he stopped day drinking.

Drake knew himself; he was never going to love another woman as he loved Alexis. Some nights, he’d go out, meet a beautiful woman, and they’d have fun together, but it never went further than a good night and breakfast.

One afternoon, he met Yolanda at the stables; she was a veterinarian too. Yola, as her friends called her, was a short brunette with pretty green eyes and a wide smile.

Something about her made him think of Alexis. Yolanda wasn’t as sunny as his Lexie, but she was beautiful, funny and smart. Like Alexis, she seemed to love life, and that was contagious. They dated for a few months, but Drake soon realized that he was only trying to replace Alexis with Yolanda, and that wasn’t fair to her. He ended the relationship before her feelings became too strong and resumed his life of endless one-night stands.

Drake’s life was finally back on track when he had received the news of Alexis and Liam’s engagement. It had been a complete shock. In the past, Drake had suspected that Liam was in love with his wife, but he would never have imagined that Liam’s feelings were reciprocated. Drake was well aware that Alexis had every right to rebuild her life, to fall in love. He knew that it was his own fault that Alexis hadn’t even tried to call him and give him the news herself, but the rage was still there. During the weeks that followed, Drake couldn’t avoid the horrible jealousy that was threatening to eat him up. He kept picturing them together and it drove him mad. Until one day, talking to Savannah, he realized that it was time to let Alexis go.

For three years he had lived as an exile in Andalucía so Alexis wouldn’t have to see him again. But she was clearly over him now. Maybe it was time to come back. Drake missed Savannah and Bartie, his country and his veterinary career. So he decided to stop fleeing. He wanted to see Alexis again and make sure she was all right. After that, they’d sign the divorce papers, and he would finally be able to move on with his life.

However, when he saw Alexis again, all of his good resolutions went out the window. Drake had felt angry and jealous seeing Liam’s diamond ring on her finger. In the weeks that followed that encounter, Drake had felt unstable and confused … until the last day at the coffeehouse.

April 2019

Alexis left the coffeehouse frustrated and angry at herself. She couldn’t believe that Drake’s touch was still capable of making her feel that nervous. She got in her car and started the engine. After all that time and the tears that she had shed trying to forget about him, she had finally done it. And she was not going to go down that path, not ever again. To love someone as passionately and as intensely as she had loved Drake wasn’t right or healthy. It was painful and heartbreaking. His departure had nearly killed her. Alexis was aware that Drake had left because of the hideous things she had told him, but she still had waited for him for years, convinced that their love for each other would make him come back. But it didn’t. And now, she was happy again. Liam made her happy. He was sweet, kind and smart. A great lover. He accepted her shortcomings, her traumas. Alexis couldn’t ask for more. She refused to let Drake disturb her life. Whatever feelings she was having for him again, was surely due to their lack of closure. The only thing that should matter to her now was her engagement to Liam. They were going to get married in a month. Liam deserved nothing less than her fidelity and devotion.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drake was shaken after his encounter with Alexis at the coffeehouse. Even hours later, he could still feel her skin on the tip of his fingers. He sat with a whiskey in his hand, thinking about her reaction. As stupid as it seemed, he was sure that Alexis had felt the same powerful electricity that he did. They still shared their old chemistry, even when they had fought at Savannah’s party; it had been heated, passionate. He savored the malty liquid burning his throat as he thought about how gorgeous she was. For the first time since he had seen her again, Drake allowed himself to freely think about her -- her beautiful dark eyes, her soft features, the way she flicked her hair. The old sparkle of her eyes was still there; it was hidden behind a shadow of sadness, but it was still there. That afternoon, Drake had had to actively stop himself from kissing her.

There was no point in lying to himself any longer; he was still desperately in love with Alexis, even more than before. Drake admired her new strength, her determination to fight in spite of the pain. He missed her sarcasm, her sense of humor, the way she always put him in his place. He was as captivated by her mix of sweet vulnerability and intense fire as he had been 10 years before. God he had missed her so fucking much all those years. Drake was destined to love Alexis for the rest of his life.

However, the last thing he wanted to do was to disturb her life. So Drake made a decision. If Alexis was truly happy with Liam and her new life, as much as it killed him, he would sign the divorce papers and leave her alone. Even if that meant that he’d have to spend his life loving her from a distance. But if he discovered that she still loved him too but was too scared to admit it -- if there was a chance that he could still save his marriage -- Drake wasn’t going to leave without fighting for her.

PERMATAG:  @ac27dj @twinkle-320​ @kimmiedoo5​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @loveellamae​ @burnsoslow​ @mskaneko​ @pedudley​ @lauzales​ @pug-bitch​

TEARS N HEAVEN: @ao719​ @yukinagato2012​ @kingliam2019​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @texaskitten30​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @bebepac​ @nomadics-stuff​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @cordonianroyalty​ @msjr0119​

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Harringrove + Live Aid

Okay (this is so long) but IMAGINE a pre-S3 situation (where Billy and Steve got together some time after S2 bc Billy found them and helped them fight while he was looking for Max)(bc MONSTER FIGHTING BOYFRIENDS and that’s all i have to say on that) and imagine Billy hearing about Live Aid and NEVER having been to a concert before (“Seriously? Never?” “I’m poor, Harrington. I tried to sneak into a Grateful Dead concert once but the police were crawling all over the parking lot busting people with weed.” “... Grateful Dead? Really? Aren’t they like… an old hippie band?” “Shut up, Harrington.”) and he starts absolutely GUSHING over the idea of being able to see Black Sabbath and Judas Priest and Eric Clapton and Led Zeppelin and yes, even Santana (bc he kicks ass) and Bob Dylan and Joan Baez (bc his mom was a hippie and even though he has some deep-seated anger and sadness in that department, he grew up listening to the ~~classics~~ of the hippie generation and he can appreciate their presence greatly)

And Steve… Steve listens to Billy gush and complain and whatnot about this for maybe… a day? before he’s figuring out how to get tickets. He’s figuring out how to get tickets before he even knows the rest of the line up, which he’s actually very excited about once he sees it. Simple Minds? Madonna?? The Cars??? Duran Duran????? Fuck yeah.

and tickets are….. expENsive. Steve only gets paid like $3 an hour so he’s gonna have to start saving now but maybe by the time they come out, he’ll be able to buy tickets. He doesn’t let on to Billy that he’s gonna do it. but he does. it’s $35 for random tickets but $50 for tickets with better seats and, call Steve crazy, but he wants to get Billy those better seats bc the boy has never been to a concert, plus some of his favorite bands are playing???? he’s getting them those good seats. He doesn’t need those new ray bans coming out on Friday or that new stereo he was saving up for. and when they come out he rushes to the ticket place nearest them, sending apologies into the ether to Robin who’s gonna have to work by herself for a little bit bc the tickets came out by surprise and he needs to go if he’s gonna get them. and when he finally comes into work, 2 tickets to the biggest concert in their lives in his back pocket, he immediately grabs a grumpy and confused Robin into a hold and spins her around, singing Don’t You (Forget About Me) and ignoring Erica Sinclair’s irritated yelling in the process.

and he does the same thing with Billy when he sees him next. he grabs him and he spins him around and he kisses his cheek and his forehead and his nose and he kind of misses on a few and gets his closed eyelid but it’s fine bc every bit of Billy’s precious face is kissable and they’re going to the biggest concert in their lives! But he doesn’t tell Billy. he just lets Billy get irritated and push him off. he lets Billy call him crazy right before Steve pecks his nose. he lets himself admire the blush that crosses Billy’s face.

But when… when the damn monster comes back; when Steve gets stuck in that weird underground basement of the mall being sought after by Russians; when Steve gets his face smashed in by them; when Billy incurs some serious injuries after that monster tries to basically eat him alive…. Well… 

Steve tells Robin about the tickets first. Robin’s heart lurches for him but she pokes Steve’s shoulder gently and calls him a sap for doing that for his ~~boyfriend~~. She says he HAS to tell Billy, even though it might break him even more, bc keeping it a secret is only going to eat away at Steve and hurt Billy if he finds out. She helps Steve sell the tickets after Jonthan and Nancy refuse to take them, saying they’d feel way too bad about going when he and Billy can’t.

Steve tells Billy the next time he goes to visit his near bedridden boyfriend and Billy is quiet and doesn’t talk much for the rest of the day but what he does say is: Hey… now we get to watch Queen on TV.

Steve smiles sadly.

But as soon as Billy gets enough strength, he basically attacks Steve with kisses and hugs and the cutest fucking nuzzles and Steve doesn’t think it’s real for a second but Billy Hargrove is nuzzling his nose into Steve’s neck and the space behind his ear and thanking him a million times over. 

And when it comes time for Live Aid, the boys are a touch sad, but only a touch, bc Steve has invited everyone over to his house to watch it on his big TV screen bc his parents are STILL away on vacation. So everyone is here, even Hop and Joyce and Murray and Alexei bc this is the biggest concert in decades (and yeah, Hop and Joyce saw bits and pieces of the coverage on Woodstock but LiveAid is massive) and…

It’s so fun. It’s more fun than Billy has had in a long time and he’s spent the better portion of the last year getting fucked into oblivion by King Steve Harrington, so that’s definitely saying something.

And as the broadcast goes on, as El and Max and Nancy jump and dance to Madonna, as Joyce tears up over Joan Baez and sings along with her, as Hop sings all the words along w/ Crosby, Stills, and Nash, as Alexei shows a very surprising interest in Run D.M.C., as Robin shushes everyone during Elvis Costello’s version of All You Need is Love and sings the little “babadadada”s along with him, as Mike and Lucas serenade El and Max VERY LOUDLY w/ “Can’t Fight This Feeling” along w/ REO Speedwagon, as Steve joins Dustin and Will in an air guitar contest along to Bryan Adams’ “Kids Wanna Rock” that Murray is the judge of, as Billy nearly cries over every Beach Boys song bc it reminds him of warm, summery beach days w/ his mom back in San Diego, as Steve gives a very heartfelt performance of “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” to which Lucas and Mike and Max and Robin throw pillows at and boo (and which Billy gets irritated at bc he wants to watch his boyfriend sing and dance, goddamnit)...

As they have more fun than Billy thought would ever be possible w/ all of these typically irritating little losers… Billy completely forgets that they had a chance to be there and see half of these people in person.

It’s not until Queen comes on that Billy is actually glad they weren’t able to make it to the concert. Billy is on the couch w/ Steve, Will, and Jonathan. Max is at his feet. They’re all glued to the screen and by the time Freddie starts singing, so is everyone else. Will is breathless through Radio GaGa. Joyce gasps when everyone in the audience starts clapping in unison. They all yell along with him when he starts his call and response. Billy is tearing up and Max gives him shit for it. Billy kisses Steve during We Are the Champions. Max and El make gagging noises and Jonathan covers Will’s eyes in jest. Steve apologizes to Billy that they couldn’t make it to the concert, and Billy admits quietly that this is better than seeing it live. When Steve asks him to repeat that Billy tells him to shove it.

Billy and Hop shush everyone as Eric Clapton plays. Jonathan nearly hyperventilates over every song by The Who. Robin pulls Billy and Steve up to dance with her and Will and Max and El when Elton John comes on. Joyce and Nancy fangirl together over Hall & Oates.

And when it’s over, the kids start to argue about their favorite parts.

Dustin: “I think the best part was-”

Max: “If you say anything other than Queen, you’re wrong”

Mike: “C’mon El, Rick Springfield isn’t that hot…”

El: “He has a pretty face and his hair is fluffy.”

Lucas: “Jonathan, who was that band you were super invested in??”

Jonathan: “The Who? I have all their albums if you wanna borrow some.”

Will: “Tommy is the best one, Lucas. For sure.”

Lucas: “Yeah? Can we listen to it? I liked the pinball song.”

And Billy’s heart is full and he can’t believe how fun this was and he slips out the backdoor to the porch w/ Steve and makes out with him against the wall bc “fuck Harrington, that was amazing.”

“Music really turns you on, huh?”

“Shut up, I can’t kiss you when you’re talking.”

[ifjgh]

Music, Baby! P4

Even more magic discs!

I was kinda iffy at first when I got this. I love Private Eyes (*clap clap*), but I didn’t know too many of their other songs, but man is this a good one. I also love the cover of this, you can’t see it in the pic too well, bit their faces are made up of dots, like pop-art.

Oh, yeah! Dokken! I love this band, but I only have one of their albums on vinyl. I know you probably can’t see it, but this is the album with Mr. Scary on it.

Okay, this was one of my first albums I bought. I don’t listen to this one. I have a good reason not to. I got this at Barne’s and Noble, when they were first trying out the whole selling vinyl thing. Bad idea. The first copy of this I bought kept skipping, it was never opened before hand, it was a brand new copy. So I still had the receipt and I returned it. the lady said it would be about a week before a my replacement would come in. That was fine. A whole month goes by and I finally get the call that it’s in. I get what is now the copy in the pic, and it does the same thing. I just gave up at that point. Moral of the story, don’t get vinyl from B’n’N. I now get them from a local vinyl shop, the guy there is awesome and always gives me a slight discount. Thanks Jim! Radio Wasteland Records is the best!

Yeah, another dad choice, he’s a self proclaimed Clapton freak. This is a pretty sick cover for an album, it’s pretty heavy too.

End P4.

[audreysmusicaljourney]

Album #29: The Beatles “White Album” (1968)

I have heard of this album, but I don’t know that I have ever listened to it.

The album begins with “Back in the U.S.S.R.,” which features a nice rock sound. Part of this song really sounds like something by the Beach Boys. It has a blues vibe to it with the pounding on the piano. The plane noises add a different element to this track as well. “Dear Prudence” has more of a folk sound with minimal instrumentation. The vocal harmonies are impressive on this track. I have never heard “Glass Onion” before. It has a slow and steady rock sound. It ends with an odd strings arrangement. “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” is a great track. I love how it hops along. I never pegged it as a ska track before, but that is exactly what it is. I have no idea what is going on with “Wild Honey Pie.” I like the use of the flamenco guitar on the opening of the track “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill.” The tone of this track varies from serious on the verses to silly on the chorus. The style of this song makes me think of the Decemberists. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is a hauntingly beautiful track. The vocal harmonies are great, but the guitars kill it on this track. I had no idea that Clapton played on this track. “Happiness Is a Warm Gun” sounds like a mash-up of two different tracks. I like the second track better than the first.

“Martha My Dear” features some awesome hand claps and a nice horn arrangement. I have never heard��“I’m So Tired” before, but I can definitely relate. I like when it moves to a harder rock sound. I love “Blackbird.” McCartney kills it with both the vocals and the guitar on this track. I don’t know what the ticking is, but I like it. “Piggies” has a Baroque sound with unexpected paradoxical lyrics. The harpsichord kills it on this track. “Rocky Raccoon” may be one of my favorite songs by the Beatles. I love the use of the narrative style of Dylan on this track, which is steeped in the folk genre before swinging into a Western saloon piano solo. “Don’t Pass Me By” is a fun track with the fiddle contributing a lot to its sound. “Why Don’t We Do It In the Road?” reminds me of something by Joe Cocker, who is actually my favorite Beatle. “I Will” is a song that I have never heard before. It definitely is rooted in folk music. “Julia” is a nice ballad from Lennon while he plays on the guitar. This is a nice tribute to his mother. 

“Birthday” is a fun song. I have heard this song a lot...often on birthdays. I like how the guitar keeps the rhythm going. “Yer Blues” is definitely the Beatles’ version of blues with Lennon singing about mother earth. I like the track “Mother Nature’s Son.” McCartney again kills it backed only by a brass arrangement on this track. I have never heard “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey” before. It has a nice groove before it erupts into all kinds of chaotic sounds. “Sexy Sadie” appears to be the Beatles’ attempt at a little more soulful of a sound. I don’t hate it. I can’t imagine that anyone listens to “Helter Skelter” without thinking about Charles Manson. It is a good rock song with a harder sound than one would expect from the Beatles. It is quite frenetic with many instruments and vocals working together as well as against each other throughout this track. It’s interesting how the song returns after going to silence in a bit of a reprise. Starr makes it clear when the song ends as he yells about having blisters on his fingers. “Long, Long, Long” is a slow and melodic track. The organ is a little haunting on it, but the ending is where things get really eerie.

“Revolution 1″ is a classic track. It is a very slow track with a pleasant tone, which is not what one expects from a revolution. I did not initially recognize “Honey Pie,” but I did once it picked up. It has a 1920s ragtime/flapper sound to it. “Savoy Truffle” has a jazz vibe to it but it is definitely a rock track. I like the use of the harmonium on the track “Cry Baby Cry.” It’s otherwise quite a repetitive track. I like the interlude at the end of it. “Revolution 9″ sounds like a mash-up of all the leftover recordings for this album. It has an experimental sound which I think is intentional. My parents visited an exhibit by Yoko Ono years ago and based solely upon their reports from that experience, I believe Yoko had something to do with this track. It goes on way longer than it needs to. Starr does a good job singing on the closing track “Good Night.” It is a fairly beautiful song with nice instrumentation and backing vocals. It is a calming and fitting ending after whatever was going on with the preceding track.

Rating: 8/10

How I Listened: Spotify

Takeaway: I have always heard of this album, and some of the songs are great. Others are definitely just filler. I prefer the first half of the album to the second half. The Beatles were clearly not afraid to dip their toes into different musical genres. Some of that worked out, some didn’t. Ultimately, you never know if you don’t try, right?

[peterjonesparker]

in which junior prom is a thing and michelle is having fun at the thing, which may or may not be because peter parker is her date, but shhhhh.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (THIS ONE!) | nine

when michelle was younger, she didn’t exactly have a lot of suitors knocking down her door. none of her classmates were leaving cute notes in her locker or asking her to be their valentine. so maybe michelle is feeling a little nervous as she sits in front of the mirror on friday night. prom night.

6:07

prom is in the gym of midtown high. everyone agreed to leave her apartment at seven because who needs to show up on time? unless you’re cindy and you’re working the prom, but they don’t have that concern. everyone is supposed to arrive at her house at six thirty for snacks and prom pictures™. which means peter should be arriving in approximately eight minutes if his previous history is any indication.

she takes a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror. her mother absolutely adored the red of her dress. so she took the lead with everything else prom related. she’s wearing her mom’s red heels from the nineties and her mom’s bold red lipstick from…well…from sephora, she thinks?

she doesn’t ask her mom about date nights with her dad. that’s just…weird.

anyway

michelle knows she looks beautiful. but part of her is worried. because, well, her previous crushes haven’t always thought so and she’s nervous that, despite all the signs she’s hoping that she’s reading correctly, peter only likes her as a friend.

“michelle.” her father calls from outside her bedroom door. “peter is here.” he slowly opens the door, sticking his head around. his smile spreads wide and bright across his face as he walks over to his daughter. “mj, honey, you look beautiful.” he hugs her tightly and mj smiles into his shoulder. she really loves her dad. but oh god, is he crying again?

“dad! you promised!” she pushes him away, hitting him lightly on the shoulder, though she’s chuckling with a bright grin on her face.

“I know, I know!” he wipes his tears quickly and takes a deep breath. “but it’s just you and I here, so it’s okay. I won’t cry in front of your boyfriend.” he draws out the word in a song and shakes his shoulders from side to side when he says it and michelle groans and wants to stomp off but these heels are higher than she’s used to so she just walks, simple and dignified.

she waits at her door for her dad, nonetheless. and if she grabs his hand before walking to the stairs, that’s nobody’s business. she’s allowed to do-

fuck

there is no way peter parker should ever be allowed to look that good.

he’s talking with her mother and laughing and his whole face is just lit up like the sun. he looks so happy and carefree. and his suit. it’s tight in all the right places. like, she knew he was spiderman so in theory he should have muscles, but it’s actually just straight up unfair how good he looks.

then her dad clears his throat and mj quickly bites her mouth closed. she hadn’t even realized it had fallen open. she might as well have been drooling. and then she locks eyes with peter and she smiles. she hopes the gulp he takes and the glaze that covers his eyes aren’t something she’s making up.

her mom cheers and claps as she walks down the stairs and michelle rolls her eyes but she’s actually very ecstatic because this is her prom and she’s going with the boy she likes and she’s wearing a beautiful dress. she’s allowed to be giddy and happy and excited and bashful.

when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she hugs her mother and then looks at peter. she smiles as she meets his eye, but he still doesn’t look quite focused so she snaps in his face. “hey, loser, ready for prom?”

he jumps slightly, shaking his head, smile growing slowly on his face like the dopey nerd he is. “of course.” he moves back and forth on his heels a bit and michelle is overwhelmed by how precious he is and how much love she has for him. “I’m really excited.”

her mother looks between the two of them, who aren’t really looking anywhere but at each other, and announces that she’s going to go finish preparing the snacks in the kitchen. she grabs her husband’s hand and takes him with her.

mj and peter stand there, smiling at each other like dorks, and mj hasn’t felt this elated in a long time. she laughs, looking down briefly before giving him a quick once over. “you cleaned up nicely, parker. color me impressed”

peter smirk, grabbing the lapels of his suit proudly. “told you I would look good. my uncle ben had good taste.”

mj smiles, smoothing out his collar gently. “I can see that. it’s a good look, parker. you should wear it more often.”

his dopey grin fades a bit and he clears his throat. “you look really pretty, mj.” he looks stunned. “like, really pretty.” she has trouble trying to fight the butterflies in her stomach that threaten to fly out. and she has to maintain some element of cool here.

“thanks, dork. now let’s go eat some moon pies.” and so they walk to the kitchen and chat with her parents for a couple minutes before the doorbell rings and ned and betty are there and then the apartment really fills with noise. ned has an amazing ability to just. keep. talking. don’t tell him, but mj loves that about him.

they eat snacks her parents made and talk and laugh. they take embarrassing prom pictures™ on her staircase and maybe her happiness threatens to bubble over when peter wraps his arms around her waist. and maybe she’s frozen a bit and she can’t really breathe because those are his arms around her and his hands locked over her stomach. and she doesn’t even have to try to smile because she’s already doing it and she can’t help it.

everyone agreed that mj should drive because her brother left his car in new york and really, it’s her car too. no matter what alexander insists over the phone. (but she did get his permission to take the car for the night, promise to be the designated driver and all.)

so they all pile into the car and her parents give her a brief talk about responsibility and driving safely and consensual, protected sexual activity and she groans and wants to melt. she hugs them anyway and gets into the driver’s seat and peter puts his hand on hers briefly when she rests it on the center console. “thanks for asking me to come with you.”

she’s too stunned to smile and then he’s taking his hand off and smiling as he looks straight ahead at the car parked in front of them on the street. she shakes her head briefly, looking forward and placing both her hands on the steering wheel. she takes a deep breath and forces her heart to shut up for once as she turns the key and pulls into the street, on the way to the very exciting locale of midtown high.

ned and betty’s chatter fills the silence of the car ride and peter seems to just be content to smile, but his hand is resting on the center console and she doesn’t know if that means he wants to hold her hand or not and she doesn’t want to hold it if he doesn’t want her too so she just keeps her hands planted on the steering wheel. focus on driving, mj.

so that’s what she does. and if she keeps looking over at peter, smiling if he happens to be looking at her, and then blushing and quickly turning back to the road, well, no one can judge her.

when they arrive at the school, she parks the car and they all walk over together, back to laughing and shouting about silly things. peter offers her his arm and she blushes when she wraps her hand around it, holding him to her tightly through this one point of connection.

michelle will be the first to admit: she is very impressed with the setup of the prom. the decorations are beautiful. she actually likes the song playing. she’s there with all her friends and oh my goodness, are those brownies? she makes a note that she needs to compliment cindy and the rest of the team responsible for putting this together.

and then they’re just….at prom. and they all walk over to where the rest of the team is hanging out, even flash thompson. and the whole team jokes around and laughs and brags to each other about their two year winning streak and making it a triple. and it’s fun.

so michelle allows herself to make weird faces in the cheesy photo booth set up in the corner and she allows herself to drink really sugary punch and pretend to gag at ned and she allows herself to dance awkwardly and sway side to side as a pop song plays and she allows herself to look at peter and smile at him and make jokes with him and wrap her arm around his shoulders when she calls him a loser and he makes a face like he’s sad. (he isn’t.)

and she and peter are laughing at how ned blushed red as a tomato because betty kissed him on the cheek when peter just…gasps. she looks up to find him staring off toward the dance floor, face completely entranced and blank. “uh, earth to parker?”

he whips his head around to look at her and his cheeks are slightly pink. “sorry, it’s just, uh-” he looks down at his shoes, hands moving back and forth at his sides, “this is like, my favorite song.”

and michelle listens more closely. and wonderful tonight? oh god, her mother listened to this song on repeat for all of her middle school years. really? she never took peter for a sappy romantic. but she guesses he’s just full of surprises. and then she looks at the dance floor and couples have matched up and entwined themselves, swaying slowly back and forth as eric clapton croons the lyric, “you look wonderful tonight”.

oh

peter’s favorite song isn’t just a romantic song. it’s a slow dance song. arms around your neck, hands on your waist, head on the shoulder slow dance song.

and

well

michelle doesn’t want him to have to stand around while his favorite song plays at their junior prom. so, despite all the flurries she’s getting from listening to this song about a man telling a woman that she looks wonderful:

“okay, then let’s dance, dork.”

so, slowly and most definitely awkwardly, the pair makes their way to the dance floor to join the hoards of other students dancing. and michelle takes a deep breath and wraps her arms loosely around his shoulders while he lightly grabs her waist. and they start dancing.

they don’t talk for a few moments, both looking determinedly over the other’s shoulder. and then

“michelle, I-” she looks at peter, eyes gentle and nervous.

“yes?” she tries to keep her voice calm and decidedly not desperate. and she doesn’t dare say another word because the whole world has become silent and focused on this one moment in her life.

peter takes a long, deep breath. “I just. there’s something I have to tell you.” he wont’ quite meet her eyes, but maybe it’s for the best. her heart’s kind of beating a mile a minute but it’s also lodged in her throat and things are very confusing but she’s also nervous and excited.

and then he looks her straight in the eye and whispers, “i’m spiderman.”

and

she wasn’t expecting this. but. this also feels so great. because she’s waited months for him to trust her with this. for him to feel like she deserves to know his biggest secret in the world. and she can’t help but feel happy about that. even if part of her heart is disappointed.

“I know.” she smiles as his face contorts and he starts, “how did you-”, but she just covers his mouth, quietly whispering, “be quiet, you horrible secret keeper. just dance with me.”

she pulls him closer and rests her chin on his shoulder, hugging him tightly as she continues to sway back and forth with small steps. he pauses for a brief moment before wrapping his arms tightly around her back, deeply sighing.

they stay silent for a few more moments before she smiles, face pressed up against his soft hair, and gently says, “thank you for telling me.”

“I’m glad you know.” he says, tightening his arms and they stay locked in that hug well into the next song that plays. (one sweet day by boyz ii men and mariah carey, if you were wondering.)

they only pull apart when peter nervously and awkwardly announces that he has to pee really badly. she laughs and pushes him toward the restroom. she shakes her head when he trips over his foot near the gym door.

she goes to wait by the fruit punch. (even though it’s sickeningly sweet…she kind of likes it, okay? leave her alone!)

and then flash thompson approaches her. “hey mj.” he says, nonchalant, as he grabs himself a cup of punch.

“flash.” she looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

he rolls his eyes and scoffs. “calm down. I’m only here to invite you and your nerdy friends to an after party at my house. the whole decathlon team is invited.” he more quietly says, “we did a good job this year and I wanted to celebrate one last time before summer.”

and mj nearly smiles at flash thompson, of all people. “yeah, that sounds fun. I’ll ask them.”

and he smiles, walking back to his date. “what did flash want?” ned asks, walking over to her as she sips on her punch.

she glances over at him briefly. “he invited us to a party at his house after prom.”

“really?” ned sounds very excited for a moment, bu then he huffs angrily and says, disappointed, “I don’t have my party hat with me.”

at that, michelle actually laughs. ned looks stunned and a little hurt. “buddy, I’m sure betty is gonna think you look just fine without your party hat. and that’s all that matters tonight.”

he lets out a quick smile, nodding his head once. “you’re so right. this is gonna be so much fun! flash is supposed to have great food.”

“who has great food?” peter asks, walking up to them. he gives mj a smile almost as sweet as the punch and she blushes ferociously.

“flash. he invited us to his party. peter, we have to go.” ned says, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and looking him sternly in the eye. “it’s our junior prom. we need a little fun.”

“well, uh,” peter moves to lock eyes with mj, “do you want to go?”

he shrugs her shoulders and nods. “it could be entertaining. what’s the harm?”

so peter nods quickly, looking back at ned. “sure, why not?”

“yes!” and with that, ned runs off, presumably to go find betty and tell her the exciting news that they, the dork squad™, have been invited to flash thompson’s prom after party.

when she takes her eyes off ned to find peter, he’s smiling, small and adorable as he looks at his shoes. and, well, she’s hoping the after party will hold more pleasant surprises.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Wonderful Tonight

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, fluffy fluffy fluff, cursing? Am I supposed to tag that?

Word Count: 2.3k

Challenge: @jpadjackles ’s Double Birthday Challenge

Prompt: Eric Clapton - Wonderful Tonight

A/N: HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks to @potato-that-needs-therapy for beta-ing this and saving me in the last moment. And to @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester for keeping my sanity intact. This was a pain in my ass and I’m not sure why. Hope you enjoyed though. Feedback always appreciated and warmly welcomed.

“I don’t know what to wear” She groaned, flopping on the bed with a pout. “I only have one dress and it’s too elegant for the occasion”

“We’re going in a literal mansion.” She turned to the sound of his voice, her heart skipping a beat. Of course he had that effect on her. “The party is hosted by the richest people in town. The dress code says ‘formal’. There’s no dress that would be ‘too elegant for the occasion’ ” Dean replied, taking a sip of his beer. She snorted humorlessly, running a hand through her hair.

“I guess” she huffed and dropped her arms on her lap limply.

An hour later, as Dean pounded the motel’s bathroom door with his fist, he yelled;

“Come on, y/n, we’re late!” Sam glanced from across the room, fixing his tie and straightening the collar of his white button-up. Everyone was ready to run except for Y/n, who had been locked up in the bathroom for a little over thirty minutes, doing God knows what.

“Wait, goddammit-! Ow fuck!” She threw curses in the air, a lot of shuffling coming from inside, a tap turning on, then off, then silence. Dean shot a confused look at his brother who shrugged. He was ready to turn around and yell for her again, but the door opened.

Dark green lace covered her arms, reaching her wrists. The fabric wrapped around her waist and fell loosely to the floor covering her feet, while a long slit drew up her leg till the top of her thigh, sexily uncovering her lace covered legs. Her chest was perfectly displayed and the right amount of cleavage was shown off. Her hair was simply pulled up in a twisted bun with loose curls framing her beautiful, pale face. Her face was kept nearly bare, as to not grab the attention from the dress, but a little dark green eyeshadow was dusted on her eyelids and clear gloss covered her lips.

And he’d be damned if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman Dean had ever seen.

“So?” She asked, looking down at the dress and slightly toying with the fabric in nervousness. “How do I look?”

Sam and Dean stared, slack-jawed and unable to move.

“Well?” Sam gulped. “Earth to Winchesters?”

“You look…” he blinked “incredible” She blushed a deep rose red and looked at her feet

“Thank you Sammy” she mumbled and smiled shyly, risking a glance at Dean. He looked awestruck. She walked up to him and placed her hands on his tie, touching it up and straightening it for a second before brushing down the wrinkles of his shirt. “Come on,” She whispered, his gaze still fixed on her. “We’ll be late.”

“Okay. You play the couple, call if you see anything, I’m going to find the book.” Sam ordered. Right, they’re in a case. Y/n forgot. Sam walked up to the security guard at the front, smiling kindly and handing out his invitation.The man nodded and let him in, smiling back a practiced, tight-lipped smile. Sam shot them a glance and disappeared behind the mansion’s double doors.

“So,” Dean offers his elbow “you ready, wife?” She bites her lip and loops her hand around his arm, nodding.

In less than five minutes they were inside, staring in awe at the huge spaces, the lights and candles, the gigantic dance floor and the buffet, the waiters that passed by offering champagne and caviar treats. A kind looking woman approached showing off a tray of some sort of expensive white liquor and y/n grabbed one without hesitation.

“I’m gonna need that” she mumbled, chugging it down like it was water. Her face scrunched up and she resisted the urge to gag, placing the empty glass on the tray, as the girl scurried. “That was horrible” She stated, lip curling and Dean, who had been looking at her the entire time, chuckled. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Did I tell you how wonderful you look tonight?” Her head turned to him, bright, doe-like eyes meeting sparkling green ones. She blushed a bright red, glancing at the floor, before looking up at him again. Her heart was jumping all over the place. She still couldn’t comprehend how much he affected her.

“No, you didn’t” She grinned “But thank you,” sincerity was clear in voice and he smiled proudly. “Wanna dance?” she asked him, walking towards the dance floor.

“Oh no, I don’t dance, sweetheart.” he shook his head, slightly mortified at the idea.

“Me neither but these people aren’t dancing. They’re swaying out of rhythm” she shrugged, grabbing his hand and giving him puppy eyes. “Please, Dean, one dance” Her bottom lip pouted out adorably. Dean looked at her, then at the swaying couples, then at her again and slouched in defeat, grumbling.

“Fine, but only one dance” She stifled a squeal and grabbed his wrist, tugging him towards the other people in the centre of the room.

Women with long expensive gowns and hours of makeup perfectly applied on their face partnered with men in impressive suits that looked like they cost a fortune. Y/n seemed more unsure by the second. Dean squeezed her hand and pulled her to his chest.

“Don’t abandon me now, kid” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling his nose in her hair. She breathed out and placed her hands delicately on his broad shoulders. She would’ve loved to bury her face in his neck but unfortunately she had to look out for the witch.

Dean’s breath was hitting the nape of her neck, as his eyes danced around the dance floor but her scent was just too distracting to let him concentrate. Just as he seemed to focus on trying to find the bitch, her hands started travelling up his neck, nails reaching his hair and lightly scratching his scalp. Dean stifled a groan, arms instinctively tightening around her frame.

“This okay?” Her voice rung in his ears like a fragile whisper.

“More than” he replied with, tracing circles with his thumbs on her waist. Every molecule of his body was on fire just by being around her. He could feel his heart beating intensely in his chest, making him pray she couldn’t feel it.

No such luck.

“Your heart’s beating so fast” She whispered, one of her hands being placed over it. He huffed “Are you afraid?”

“Of the witch?” He shook his head in amusement “I wish that was it” he sighed. His eye twitched, and he caught a woman appearing and disappearing next to the buffet. He straightened up, hands instinctively grabbing y/n’s waist tightly in protection.

“Dean?” she asked, seeing the hunter instinct kick in, his eyes hardening.

“Come on” He urged, pulling away from her and gripping her wrist. He rushed towards the buffet where he saw the woman disappear. A light smell of something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on, lingered in the air.

Suddenly the lights flickered, and darkness surrounded him.

“What the hell” he muttered.

“Ah, welcome, welcome.” a warm and alluring voice echoed in his ear and a fabric was torn away from his eyes. He shook his head and blinked, then blinked again. He looked up, thankfully the room was dimly lit. He shook the blurriness away. Across him, his brother was tied down, tuxedo muddy and ruffled up, hair tousled and hands behind his back, tied around a pillar, a look of hatred and contained anger targeted at the woman in the middle of the room. He examined the cut on his cheek, already clenching his fists at the idea of someone hurting his little brother and discovering he, too, was tied down.

His eyes danced around the room, meeting the limp body of the girl he lov- liked. Liked? No, liked is too weak for his feelings. But now is not the time. Focus, Winchester.

She looked unconscious for now, but there was blood staining her beautiful face, starting from her hairline in a deep gash.

“You guys are the infamous Winchesters?” His eyes met the woman’s. She was tall with long dark hair that reached a little after her shoulder blades and a long elegant dark red dress that flowed freely reaching her feet. Dean snapped out of his thoughts at her sarcastic laugh “Well…  that was fairly easy” She grinned.

“Is it time for your long speech about your incredibly clever and evil plan that will terrify and eliminate us all?” Y/n’s voice perked up, scratchy and tired, dripping with sarcasm. She groaned and shuffled around, her wrist shooting small sparks of pain through her arms. A nail scratched her skin and she hissed in surprise and pain. Every head was turned to her. “What?”

“Is she always that annoying?” The witch scoffed “She’s not special at all. Strange you chose her to fall for.” she let the statement hang heavily in the air, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The shock registered on both Y/n and Dean’s face. Y/n stared at Dean, eyes wide, heart ready to jump out of her ribcage.“Oh” the witch smiled menacingly “it was supposed to be a secret?” she seemed amused. “How wonderful.” she clapped her hands with a ‘ha!’, causing everyone in the room to flinch.

Dean looked pissed. His eyebrows were lowered, jaw set, glaring daggers at the woman in front of him. She was gonna die a painful death, he was making sure of it.

The witch approached y/n with purpose, menace lingering in her eyes in a faint glint.

“Don’t you fucking touch her you bitch!” Dean screamed. Y/n strategically acted scared, her wrists slowly but forcefully stretching and tearing the rope that they were tied with, with the help of the nail. She glanced at Sam, realizing he, too, was tearing his bonds.

The witch kneeled in front of her. She hummed in thought.

“How about we skip the speech?” She traced a finger on y/n’s face, trailing it down to her neck. Y/n gulped, glancing away from the witch’s face. She spotted what she recognized was Sam and Dean’s guns on the ground. Her hands were finally freed with a tiny snap and she smirked. Awesome.

“Sure” She smiled, looking the witch in the eye, before her right fist flew to the witch’s jaw, a satisfying crack echoing in the room. She pushed herself to her feet as the witch fell to the ground, looking livid. Her hand shot up and sending Y/n flying to the wall across, gasping for air.

Sam shot up, jumping towards the guns but with a flick of her wrist, the witch threw him to the nearest wall. Dean finally untied himself and jumped up as well. The witch growled and started forming a curse, but before she could finish it, Dean dove for the gun, aimed and shot. The witch fell on the ground, a pool of blood forming around her.

Y/n fell on the ground, a punch of oxygen hitting her lungs violently. She gasped and coughed, Dean running and falling on his knees next to her.

“Are you okay?” Through the corner of her eye, y/n noticed Sam limping towards them. She nodded, clenching Dean’s shirt in her hands, small heavy pants coming from all of them.

They managed to pick themselves up, dust each other off and carry one another to the Impala, driving to their motel room. Sam immediately claimed the shower, still limping from the wound on his leg.

Y/n sat on the bed, taking her shoes off and sighing. Thoughts were swimming inside her head, the witch’s words ringing like church bells, borderlining a headache. Did he really love her? Was she willing to risk it?

“What’s cooking in that head of yours?” Dean asked, eyes dancing over her frame, his weight against the wall. He looked delicious, arms crossed on his chest, muscles clenching, hair ruffled from the hunt. Y/n pondered over it for a couple of seconds, before getting up and walking towards Dean. He curiously eyed her stalking over to him, arms dropping as she placed herself between his legs. Her palms rested against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Dean’s hands instinctively went to her waist.

“Please tell me she wasn’t lying” y/e/c, desperation-clouded eyes locked with bright green ones and his heart went haywire. He looked down, nervous, like a child caught doing something wrong. A small sigh left his lips, eyes coming back to hers.

“She wasn’t” he looked guilty. As if he shouldn’t have let that happen.

“Oh Thank God” a full blown grin spread on her face, irises brightening in happiness. Dean’s head snapped upwards, confusion written on every feature of his face. She exhaled a laugh and moved a hand on his cheek, looking at him lovingly. “We’re such idiots” She laughed lightly, as if a big weight was off her shoulders. Dean’s shoulders slackened as she pushed herself on her tiptoes. She lightly placed her lips on his. pulling away a second later.

Dean looked absolutely flabbergasted. The shock registered on his face before both his hands were cradling her face, his lips moving against hers. He smiled into the kiss and she swore it had to be the best feeling in the world.

However all good things must end, as both of them jumped apart at the bathroom door opening.

“Am I supposed to pretend I wasn’t expecting that?” He asked in a somewhat mocking laugh. Y/n grinned, Dean pulling her by her wrist towards him, wrapping his arm around her lower back and kissing her temple, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Are you okay?” she asked him in a whisper, as Sam flopped on the bed, groaning.

“I’m wonderful” Dean’s smile lit the whole room. He leaned down and pecked her lips, pulling her even closer.

“Ugh, get a room” Sam groaned again, a teasing smile on his face.

“Will do, Sammy” Dean grinned down at her. “Will do”

[nicksilveirart]

(SING!) Story Not Told, chapter 12 – Tears in Heaven

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 (MATURE)

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Click here to read chapter 12:

"No! I mean... Yes, he's in there and not coming out. I've tried that! That also. You're what? No, not today. At least let the guy get a good night of sleep before that. Knowing him, he'll be up first thing in the morning. Okay. Go ahead, I'll just... Keep trying. Thanks." Eddie was whispering into the speaker, then turning his attention to the door in front of him. "Buster, you can't hide in there forever!" He knocked for the, he figured, billionth time. "Open up!" He could make out soft cries and sobs on the other side. The knob turned to reveal the theatre owner. Buster was a mess, and felt like such. Sniffing, he looked up at the much taller sheep. "Yes?" "I ordered pizza." "I'm not hungry, Eddie." He forced himself to smile at his friend. It was not his fault he had destroyed the theatre and was now headline news, right? "But thanks." "Okay, forget the pizza. Wanna play something?" "Nah, I'm good… I think I'm gonna call it a day." He rested down on an inflatable bed, and looked up at the TV. Citizens are shocked, and it's a miracle anyone survived this great disaster. Whilst Moon has not been found to give interview, sources say- Eddie quickly grabbed the remote, and turned the TV off. "You don't have to listen to this, you're beating yourself up as it is." He sat near his friend. "I deserve it." He chuckled sadly. "Let alone destroying the theatre, Eddie, I could've killed everyone. I deserve everything they're saying." "You could've gotten yourself killed back there, that occurred to you?" He froze for a second, thinking about his girlfriend. He could be the biggest loser he knew, but someone saw something in him. Ash wanted to be near him, a fraud or not. And she would've been sad if he had died, or so he figured. "Now it did." "So don't beat yourself up too hard over this." He flopped onto the couch. "Anyways… That girl that was here today?" Buster's ears perked up. "What about her?" "I've never seen you so comfortable around a girl before." The sheep laughed. "Well…" He pulled the sheets over himself. "Can't be all awkward around the cast, right?" "Except for she's not cast anymore. She was here with no competition up." Good god. The koala definitely didn't like where this was heading. "Yes?" "Dude… You like her or something?" He shrugged. "Maybe." Eddie looked at him intently. "Okay, we're together." "That's awesome news, man! Congrats!" "Thanks." He smiled. "How long?" "A couple days." "While the competition was still up?" He raised a brow. "Hey, if it was for that she wouldn't come here." Buster sighed. The same assumption Lance had made, and it was enough to make his stomach turn. He knew her, Ash wouldn't go that low. "True." He yawned. "Good night, Buster." "Night, Eddie."

Ash walked towards her apartment. That had been a busy day. The whole theatre coming crashing down aside, she had been walking for a good hour before finally catching sight of the NYC suburb-styled building she lived at. However, that wasn't the only thing she got a glimpse of. "Oh no…" She hid in a bush just on the other street, and peaked her head out. "Come on, why are you doing this to me?" Just outside the door, sat her mother and father. "You never cared before, you never- Goddamn it…" No way in hell she was going to face her parents. Turning around, she silently prayed they hadn't spotted her as she walked in another direction. Tara was laying down at the couch, re-watching Two and a Half Moose, and laughing to herself at the stupidest things said by the characters. After a tiring day directing many crew members around a set, she gave herself a marathon of her favorite series as a reward. She loved directing, but couldn't deny it was a ton of work. Holding onto a bucket of popcorn, she slowly drifted into sleep. Between an episode and another, the doorbell rang, and she woke up in a jolt, dripping popcorn all over the place, and falling over it. The doorbell rang again, and she stumbled her way over to the door. "Who is it?!" She asked, distressed. "It's Ash! I kinda… Need a place to stay. My parents are keeping guard at my house." Tara quickly opened the door. "I'm sorry, okay? They put me against the wall, your brother said we had seen you, and-" "Whoa there!" Ash laughed. "I'm not complaining, Tara. Actually I kinda expected that to happen, I knew he wasn't going to keep secret. I just need to crash somewhere and well… You're the one friend I've got that won't smoke weed through the night." "Oh. Uh… Get in." She stepped aside. "Thanks." Getting inside, the rocker rested her guitar case by the door, quickly noticing the mess in front of the TV. She burst out laughing. "What happened here?" "You happened here." Tara smirked. "I was watching TV, eating some popcorn, and fell asleep." "I told you many times you gotta learn how to sleep in a bed." She said, plopping herself onto the couch. "I will soon, mom." The otter shot back. "Wanna watch something?" "Whatever you are watching." "Fox is having a Two and a Half Moose marathon." "Two and a Half Moose it is." "Great." Tara flopped herself onto the couch. "If you're hungry, there's popcorn all around." "Pass." In-between episodes, breaking news showed the destroyed theatre. Tara looked at her. "Well, this happened." "Damn! Moon put a massive tank in there?!" "Moon built a massive tank in there. Using practically anything he could find that was made of glass." Tara's jaw dropped. "Are you okay? I mean… Your chance to perform your original and all." "Yeah, I'm good. I talked to Buster, about putting the show together again, he told me to call him tomorrow." Tara laughed. "He gave you his number?" "No, we are going use telepathy." Tara laughed. "You moron." "He just wanted you to call him." She winked. "You think he has a crush on me, don't you?" "First praising your talent, then the song, and now he asks you to call him? Pretty sure he does." "A bit old for me, don't you think?" "As long as he makes you happy." Ash raised an eyebrow at her friend, smirking. "Wait, no way!" "Yes, we are." "Tell me how it happened!" "We were at the theatre, and kissed. No big deal." The otter was listening expectantly. "The tank who caused all this? He got squids to perform there. Yesterday, he took me there and showed what he had planned, and we kissed." "Was it good?" Tara was holding onto a cushion. "It was great. We kissed and, well… You know. Everything happened fast, but it was nice." The other girl held a hand up. "He took you to bed with him?" "More like I took him to bed with me." Ash laughed. "Straight-forward. Was it good?" The teenager nodded. "Great." Both girls turned to the TV in time to see the adjectives that were being thrown at Buster, and Ash could only hope he wasn't watching the news. She was almost asleep when her phone rang, startling both girls. Groggily, she picked up the phone. "Hello?" She yawned and rubbed her eyes, suddenly jolting awake. "Oh hey, Miss Crawly."

On the other side of town, Lance finished another gig with his current girlfriend Becky. House wasn't full, but they had gotten a decent amount of claps. Offstage, they shared a drink. Performing mostly in bars, it was more than usual for them to get one or two shots on the house. It was also around this time that the only folks you could find around were drunk animals singing karaoke, band members chilling out, or stoners from around town. "Well done, babes." "Thanks. You feeling better?" "Getting there." He rubbed ice along his bruised arm. "I swear, I was this close to kicking his ass." Before Becky could reply, a female voice laughed right behind them. "Sure you were." "Don't you have a better place to be, Laura?" Lance replied, annoyed. "My shift's over, I'm just another employee enjoying a drink." "Go defend your boyfriend someplace else." "He hates me just as much as he hates you, Lance. Know why? We're both cheaters. And you know you deserved it, talking about that girl like that." "Did you eavesdrop on us?" "More like heard it on accident." Becky stared at her. Laura merely smirked as she took another sip of her margarita. "You teenagers shift emotions towards someone so fast… And when you look back you see you made a mistake." "If you start talking like a wise old lady I'm gonna throw up." The other girl snickered. The three of them laughed. "I'm not that old, and I don't have to be the wise lady. Time will teach you, Lance. Breaking other's hearts isn't cool." "Why don't you go bother another cheater?" "I don't know another cheater." Laura laughed, as she rested a couple $5 bills on the counter. "Gonna get in line for karaoke." "Don't blow our ears up!" Becky mocked, and both porcupines laughed. "I'm not worse than the two of you, don't worry." She walked away. The two lovers, in lack of a better program, proceeded to listen to Laura's singing. They would never tell her, but she had just a fine voice, and pulled Ewe Clapton's Tears in Heaven just fine. Not too long after, one of the TV's in the bar started showing news from the incident at the Moon Theatre. Becky quickly turned to the bartender. "Hey, put that up please? Lance, look!" Both of them turned just in time to see the site the theatre used to occupy destroyed, chairs and bricks everywhere. Lance's jaw dropped, and he soon replaced it with a smirk. "Suits the koala just fine." He laughed. "A handmade fish tank? Seriously? He thought that was gonna work? And to think Ash traded me for that idiot." "I know, right?" Giggling, Becky got off of her chair and motioned for Laura to look at the TV. The koala got distracted for a second and, upon finishing her song, ran to the counter. "Good lord…" She couldn't help but remember all times Buster had told her about the theatre, how much he loved directing and how close him and his dad were of buying it. The times he worked at the car wash after school, sometimes even missing their dates, to clean a couple more cars. All for that place. And there it was: his beloved theatre reduced to ashes. "Hey, you know what? Now that the guy's probably curled on himself crying, might just be the best time to win him back." Laura stared up at the porcupine. "Come on, don't be mad, I just want to reunite the lovebirds." Lance moved closer, and started messing with her ears. They twitched. Without another word, she kicked his chair, and the much younger male fell face first on the ground. "Might as well tell Buster he doesn't have to fix your buck teeth anymore."

[itsmorefuntohavebadtaste]

Braving the RS 500 Greatest Albums of All Time: #65, Phil Spector - Back To Mono (1958-1969)

(Start date: April 19th, 2018 / Day 324)

From Rolling Stone:

When the Righteous Brothers' Bobby Hatfield first heard their "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'," with partner Bill Medley's extended solo, he asked, "But what do I do while he's singing the whole first verse?" Producer Phil Spector replied, "You can go directly to the bank!" Spector invented the idea of the rock producer as artist. He built his Wall of Sound out of hand claps, strings, massive overdubs and mountains of percussion, making some of the most frenzied, dramatic teenage-lust pop ever heard. This box has hits such as the Ronettes' "Be My Baby," Darlene Love's "A Fine, Fine Boy" and the Crystals' "Da Doo Ron Ron," one of Spector's "little symphonies for the kids."

Do I really have to listen to “A Christmas Gift For You” again? Really? In March? I’m not gonna skip over it because of the integrity of the project, but it seems kind of superfluous.

These anthologies have been sort of been the bane of this project for me, but luckily, in this case, Spector was a writer and producer and not a band or artist, so it has a little more diversity going for it. Granted, most of the body of this work belongs to Ronnie Bennett and girl groups that were similar to The Ronettes, but it’s enough to keep it interesting.

I liked the music, but I can’t help but be annoyed with the framework here. I’m not really sure why the girl groups that Spector oversaw seem to be the only artists on the list where their producer is credited over them. I mean, I have a few ideas, but I’m not going to get into them. Or maybe I will.

I’ll say this much about it, though: there are a lot of artists here who are interpreters in one way or another––Etta James and Otis Redding come to mind immediately, since they were the most unambiguous about it, and also some of the best out there, but so are the great majority of the blues groups and musicians. Cream recorded plenty of blues standards, as did Willie Nelson, The Grateful Dead, Elvis, and the Beatles even dabbled in it. But with these artists, especially in the cases of Clapton, Nelson, Presley, Garcia, and Lennon & McCartney, the enjoy a fair amount of credit for that art. They get to own it. They get to have their names on it, and have the fact that these artists, most of which are women, almost all of whom are black, are subordinated beneath their producer, communicates a really troubling message about music criticism.

I also feel like it’s appropriate to mention that Spector also produced Lennon’s “Imagine”, and while it didn’t go unmentioned, anyone would recognize it as ludicrous to credit Spector over Lennon for that album.

There are a lot of oversights on this list, and anybody with a somewhat informed opinion about music could recognize that, but for all its faults, it does do a good job of illustrating popular Western critical consensus, in what it prioritizes, and the many ways in which it falters. There’s a really strong tendency to lionize artists who were objectively terrible people, and minimize the contributions of others whose artistic labor ended up being exploited by names that would go on to be bigger, and this is just a really damning outline of how both of these things came together to build the legacy of a man who is easily one of the most deplorable figures in mid-20th century music.

Absolute best case scenario, this is really reductionist.

But this sounded good! So there’s your review.

Year: 1991 Standout Track(s): Spanish Harlem, Be My Baby, Strange Love, So Young, Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) Rating: 3/5 - I wanted to rank this as “irredeemable” because it’s Phil Spector but I figured that’d be too unfair to the artists here.

[iwannashelteryou]

i was tagged by @sarahpaulscns ♥

Rules: always repost the rules; answer the eleven random questions posted for you; create eleven new ones and tag eleven people.

Which movie has had the biggest (positive or negative) impact on you? Why? Either I play it easy and answer the Lord of the Rings trilogy because i simply love the universe and the book-to-movie adaptation was quite ‘’’perfect’’’ in my eyes and since it’s my go to movie when I’m feeling down, or I play it hard and try to explain why the movie Submarine by R. Ayoyade resonated so much with me (it has to be the arctic monkeys soundtrack right ?) and i don’t feel like doing any of it so yay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you could have any song covered by any artist, which song would it be and who would cover it? A cover of Femme like U by K-Maro by Alex Turner. I’ll either die of sexyness or of laughter, but it would definitely be something to listen to.

You’ve been chosen to spend a year alone in a submarine studying ocean shit or in a spacecraft studying space shit. Which one do you choose and why? The spacecraft, i have a really really great fear of deep waters, or just having my head underwater in general, like in a swimming pool just crossing under the red and white lines thingy makes me sick, so me in the closed space of a submarine surrounded only by water ? UGH NEVER. I won’t be much more confident in space though but since i’ve never been up there and i really hate the idea of a submarine i’ve got no other choice now have I ? (also stars are pretty)

If you could go back in time to ask one question to one person (someone famous, or someone you know, your choice), what would be the question and who would you ask it to? I’d probably go back to when Roald Dahl was still alive and ask him to give me a signed copy of the Matilda manuscript (wow what a profound answer clap clap)

You can be send anywhere in the world to do one thing right now, at the exact moment you’re reading this. Where do you go? What will you do? I’d go to someplace in the moutains in a cabin surrounded by snow and i’d watch the stars on a balcony wraped in numerous blankets. 

What are your five favourite musical albums of all time? UGH I HATE THESE QUESTIONS IT’S SO HARD TO CHOSE ONLY FIVE. Let’s try though... Favourite Worst Nightmare by the Arctic Monkeys, The concert in Central Park by Simon & Garfunkel, Repenti by Renan Luce, My Head is an Animal by Of Monsters and Men and Hera by Georgio. 

You can go back in time and ask Michelangelo to paint or sculpt anything, knowing that the painting/sculpture will be as famous as the rest of his work. What do you ask him to paint/sculpt? I have asbolutely no idea. To sculpt a replica of the one true ring of power just to mess everyone up ??

Which song makes you feel the most sad? Happy? Sexy? Badass? Sad : tears in heaven - eric clapton Happy : mardy bum - arctic monkeys Sexy : i never feel sexy, an hymn by me :/ Badass : la terre je la dévore - georgio

If you could create a huge charity organization, what would it be for? i’d develop a charity org to fight all kinds of discriminations and theire main goal would be to go in schools and teach kids and teenagers how to be decent human beings (also they would be obligated to dress up as silly super heroes we would made up).

Who do you consider to be the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen? (other than people you know personally. It can be someone famous, or a random person in a picture you found online or something.) Felicity Jones and Matthew Clavane definitely have me shook atm.

What’s one thing you can absolutely not eat? CARROTS. It makes me want to throw up. (Which is kinda funny because apparently I used to love carrots when i was a kid).

Aaaaaaaaand my questions for @scavengerridley @studyingqt @myheartincellophane @philippwaldenbeck @herofthisstory @wormdelivre @the-fault-in-our-cakes @theblackwook @gayer-and-cuter-than-you @liledgyacrobat  @dempayoh are :

You are given an unlimited budget to travel the world during three months. Where would you go, how long, with whom and why ?

You can only eat one thing from now on until the day you die, what do you chose ?

One day, you wake up and realize you’re not yourself anymore but Midas and you can turn into gold everything you touch. How do you live with this malediction ?

Who would you ask to direct a movie about your life and who would be playing your role ?

What are the last three positive things that happened to you in the past few days ?

From now on, you can only see the world in one colour. What is it ?

You suddendly find yourself send into the last book you’ve read/the book you’re currently reading. What is it and what would happen to you ?

In a movie adaptation of your life, what ten songs would be a must have ?

How many languages can you speak, which, and would you like to speak some more ?

Do you prefer libraries or bookstores ?

You are given the opportunity to meet with the head of your country’s government for a day. What do you use this day for ?

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 3: Again

Tears in Heaven 3: Again

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog. N*FW

This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2009 / 2015 / 2019)

A/N: I  used Grey’s Anatomy prompt # 16 , requested by @burnsoslow (in bold in the story)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 4,957

Songs inspiration: Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO:  @burnsoslow  Thanks for beta reading and correcting so patiently 🤣🤣    @pedudley your comments and encouragement are the best. LOVE YOU BOTH! ❤️

June 2015

Liam sat at the hospital bench with his heart still racing. He had barely made it on time. He didn’t want to think what would have happened if he had taken that last call in his office, or if he had come across more red lights on his way to her house.

The doctors had told him that with the number of pills she had ingested and how weak her body was, she wouldn’t have survived much longer.

When Liam had arrived at her apartment that night, he had knocked several times with no response. Something was not right. That morning, she had seemed different: more serene, more at peace. He thought about the expression on her face when she had said good-bye, and it all made sense.

He didn’t lose any more time knocking. He took three steps back and ran at the door, slamming against it with his shoulder. When it opened, he ran to her room, to find her unconscious on the bed. He didn’t think twice; he would be much faster than an ambulance, so he scooped her in his arms and took her to the emergency room in his car.

When he arrived at the hospital, a nurse laid her on a stretcher and took her away from him.

After waiting the longest two hours of his life, a doctor had come out to tell him that she was sleeping, but she was going to be fine. Mainly due to his fast reaction.

He had called Olivia and Maxwell, who had rushed to her side, and the three of them sat together waiting for her to wake up.

Liam couldn’t help but feel furious. She had been selfish and had forgotten about her friends. About Max and Liv. About him. Liam knew his death had been devastating, but she had no right to leave them like that. He couldn’t imagine his life without her friendship, without her.

When he was finally allowed to see her, his anger had faded. She seemed so fragile and small in the bed that all he felt was a deep sadness - for her and for everything that had happened. He sat next to her and took her hand, all his feelings for her rushing back.

She stirred in the bed and opened her eyes to see Liam smiling softly at her.

“Hi, Alexis.”

“I’m in the hospital.” It was more of an angry statement than a question.

“Yes. I came back to check up on you, and I barely found you in time.”

“I didn’t want you to save me, Liam. I just …” She sighed, unable to finish her sentence.

“What?” He stared at her, angry again.

Alexis refused to talk anymore, so she turned her back to him, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it so easily. He walked around the bed to face her.

Liam needed to confront her; maybe he had coddled her too much. “Say it. If you’re so determined to really give up, if you really think that’s what he would have wanted, then at least have the courage to say it. You wanted to die.”

“I would never know what he would have wanted or not.”  Her eyes filled with tears. Why couldn’t Liam understand that she was already dead? “Leave me alone, Liam. Please, I beg of you, just let me go, let me die. I’m just not strong enough.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “It doesn’t matter how tough we are. Trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home; it changes our lives. Trauma messes everybody up. But maybe that’s the point - all the pain and the fear. Maybe going through all that is what keeps us moving forward. It’s what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up before we can step up.” He rubbed her forehead softly. “I’ll never leave, Alexis. We’re going to fix this. I swear.”

He took his jacket off and hung it on the chair behind him. “You should sleep a little. I’ll stay here.”

She closed her eyes and fell asleep almost immediately. Liam pulled out his phone and started to look for the best clinic available. He was determined to save her.

September 2009

Drake and Alexis were excited to spend their first weekend together. The annual Derby in Portavira had been the perfect excuse. She had told her father that she was staying with Liv at Penelope’s house, but she was going with Drake to Portavira for the race, and after, they were going to escape to a little cabin on the beach for the night. Their first night together.

They had agreed to meet at Olivia’s house. When Drake parked in front of the estate, he saw her walking down the stairs towards him. She looked gorgeous in a simple white midi dress and a fedora.

“Hi, Drake.” She looped her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, grinning. Fuck, he was crazy about her. “Hi, O’Brien. I can see you’re not wearing a big feathered hat.”

She beamed. “Olivia tried to lend me several, including one with a dead bird on top of it, but it wasn’t really me.” She lifted her face coquettishly. “Do you like this one?”

He rubbed her cheek, smiling. “You look beautiful, Lexie.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome too. I like that white shirt.”

Drake blushed and smiled as a reply to her compliment. He put her bag in his trunk and they left for Portavira.

They arrived at the racetrack three hours later and easily accessed the infield where the nobles’ tents were located, thanks to the special pass Liam had given him.

Alexis shook her head at the swarm of reporters and photographers waiting for the celebrities and the nobles. “I would die if I had to spend my day thinking about my outfit and talking about Cordonian apples.”

Drake chuckled. “Come on, O’Brien. Let’s go to the tent.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the Rhys’ tent. “I’ll go get something to drink. A lager pint?”

“Yes, please.” She winked at him playfully before turning to enter the tent.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him for a kiss. “You look so cute when you wink at me like that; I couldn’t resist.”

She shook her head smiling sheepishly.

“I’ll be back in five minutes. Just go inside; Li is already there.”

When she entered, Liam was there alone in a high chair facing the racetrack. He was reading a horseracing magazine.

“Hi, Li!”

Liam’s heart skipped a beat when he saw her. “I didn’t see you there, Alexis.” He smiled kindly.

“Sorry, you seemed awfully focused.”

“Heh! I was trying to decide which horse to bet on. Drake has won two years in a row, but this year he’s going down,” he joked.

She laughed. “I should have guessed that you two liked to compete against each other.”

“I hardly call it a competition; Liam loses all the time.” Drake entered the tent holding their three beers.

“I don’t know, Drake,” she teased him as she took her cold drink. “Li has been researching, and he feels extremely confident.”

“Is that true?” He sat next to Alexis, his arms encircling her waist.

Liam nodded excitedly. “You better start warming up. I’m positive that Mirabelle will win.”

“It’s not a bad prediction, but this is Twilight’s year. You’ll see,” he said with a smug look in his eyes.

Liam extended his hand. “The usual?”

Drake shook his hand in agreement. “The usual.”

“What’s the usual?” Alexis asked, intrigued.

“Ever since Drake and I were kids, we bet each other with push-ups,” Liam explained, his eyes crinkling at the memory.

Drake raised his finger. “Well, they aren’t just any push-ups - they are push-ups using only one hand.”

“That’s so cute,” Alexis answered, smiling. She loved their friendship.  

Drake frowned. “It’s not cute;, it’s rugged and manly.”

Liam frowned too. “Yes, very tough, I’d say.”

“Sure, of course. My bad!” She giggled.

“Except that I think we should change the bet a little; it would be incredibly rude to leave Alexis out. She should bet against us, too,” Liam suggested.

Drake looked at his girlfriend. “What can you do instead of push-ups?”

“I don’t know.” She thought about it. “But I want to play, too. Maybe I can eat something really spicy, for instance.”

“Nice try, Lexie. You love spicy food.” Drake squinted at her, thinking for a few seconds. “But I do have something in mind.” He turned to Liam. “Can you believe she has never watched any Indiana Jones?”

Liam’s eyes widened; he and Drake had watched all the movies more than 20 times since they were kids.

“Alexis, how can you live like that? It’s like you had no childhood,” he said, horrified.

She shrugged.  “What can I say? I just wasn’t interested.”

Drake shook his head in disbelief. “Well, if the horse you choose doesn’t win, you have to watch all the movies with us. But better beware that we know all the dialogue.”

She laughed, picturing the two of them being excited about Harrison Ford.

Liam tried to ignore how much he liked her contagious laughter. He cleared his throat. “Just so we’re clear, there’s only one winner. The other two losers have to accept their punishment.”

Alexis clapped her hands. “There we have it, then.” She looked at the magazine with the horse’s information for a few minutes. “I choose Bolt.”

Loud trumpets announced the start of the race, and the three of them turned to look at the track. All three of them were leaning forward, absorbed. Alexis, especially, was rapt. Drake leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder; he loved the passion she put in everything she did.

“Twilight takes the lead,” Drake smirked. Twilight was being closely tailed by Marabelle’s Dream, Bolt, and another horse.

“Race isn’t over yet. Go, Marabelle!” Liam urged the horse.

The horses reached the point that was further from their tent, making it hard to distinguish much. They could, however, see a white horse still in the lead.

“They’re rounding the third bend …” Liam said quietly, almost to himself. It was a nervous habit he’d always had during the races.

“Come on, Bolt. You can do it!” Alexis was shouting with everything in her.

“Catch them in the final furlong.” Drake’s hands were balled into tight fists.

“They’re neck-and-neck!” shouted Alexis excitedly. Marabelle’s Dream had finally caught up to Twilight and Bolt and they galloped together, their jockeys' legs almost touching. They were coming around the bend and getting closer to where the three sat.

“Come on …” Liam pushed.

At the very last moment, a mere foot from the finish line, Marabelle’s jockey gave her one final push, and they broke the finish line seconds before the other two horses.

“And there goes Marabelle! Ha! I knew it!” Liam pumped his arms triumphantly and gave Drake a gloating smile. “Drake, I believe you’re up, and if you think I’m enjoying this too much,” he chuckled, “I totally am.”

“I must’ve done something very wrong at some point for you to be my best friend,” Drake replied.

He took off his shirt and crouched into the push-up position. “Well, here we go…”

Alexis couldn’t help but admire Drake’s ability to do the push-ups using only one hand. It seemed extremely difficult. And he looked extremely handsome.

When he finished, he put his shirt back on. “Never let it be said that I’ve ever backed out of a bet,” said Drake as he buttoned his shirt back up.

Liam laughed. “You better get used to it, Drake.” He checked his phone; he had a date but wasn’t very excited about it. “Are you going to the beach then?”

Drake nodded. “Yes, we’re leaving now. This was fun, Li.”

Alexis smiled at him too. “Very fun. I owe you two an Indiana Jones marathon.”

Liam grinned. “Don’t worry, Alexis, neither of us will let you forget it until you pay up.”

She laughed. “I’m sure of it.”

The ride to the cabin was silent. Alexis plugged her phone in the stereo and played the playlist she had prepared for the trip, lost in her thoughts. She was well aware that she wasn’t nearly half as experienced as Drake was, and that made her really nervous. They had been waiting for more than a month, so their makeout sessions, intense and passionate, always left them incredibly frustrated. Her heart raced just thinking about their night ahead. She shook her head, trying to focus on the road ahead of them.

Drake knew she was nervous even if she was too stubborn to confess it, and he had to admit that he was a bit nervous himself. He wanted to give her a perfect trip. A perfect night. He grabbed her hand for the rest of the ride.

The cottage was hidden in a corner of a sandy beach. It was a small, charming house made with grey bricks. It had red wooden doors and window frames, a chimney, and a small white hedge surrounding the property. It looked alive and welcoming. The sea was only a few meters away. Alexis smiled, completely captivated by the place. The inside was equally cozy: rustic furniture, fluffy yarn rugs, a small kitchen, and a large fireplace. It was perfect.

“Drake, this is lovely.” Her eyes were brightening the way they did when she was particularly happy.

Drake sat on the large couch and pulled her into his lap. “I’m glad you like it, O’Brien. Bastien bought it, and the three of us remodeled it when we came here during the summer. He was going to move here when he retired, but he met Andrea and moved to Spain instead. Now he rents this during the holidays.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.” She grinned again, locking eyes with him.

He cupped her face and kissed her hungrily; he was dying to be with her, but they had all the time in the world. He rubbed her face softly. “I was thinking that we could go to the beach and swim a little now; the water gets too cold later.”

They spent a few hours in the water swimming and snorkeling, and later on the sand, kissing and playing poker while they drank the bottle of wine. At 6:00, the temperature dropped several degrees, and they decided to go to the local market to get something to eat.

The market was colorful and filled with spices, fruits, vegetables, and lots of fish. Alexis had promised to cook, so she went from stand to stand asking questions and choosing ingredients for her mysterious dish. She had even found Mexican tortillas which, apparently, was a miracle in Cordonia, because she had almost kissed the man at the stand.

Back at the cottage, Alexis cooked as Drake started a fire, and set the table. “This smells incredible, Lexie.” He circled his arms around her while she poured a creamy red sauce over the chicken wraps.  He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent that drove him crazy. He needed more. He pushed her hair aside and gave her soft kisses on her neck. Alexis swallowed hard, thousands of goosebumps appearing on her arms. Her soft moans encouraged him; his kisses deepened. She threw her head back, lost in him, unable to keep doing whatever she was doing before him.

He turned her and searched for her mouth, desperate to kiss her lips again. “I can’t wait anymore, Alexis.”

She shook her head, speaking with a low, sultry voice. “Me either.”

“Fuck, Lexie, come here.”  She jumped into his arms, straddling him. He carried her over to their bed, leaning forward and easing her down onto it. He laid next to her and traced her jawline with his thumb softly. “Are you sure about this, Lexie?”

She was unable to speak, feeling his fingers wander around her face and neck, his warm breath so close to her. He took her chin, making her look at him “I need you to be sure about this, baby.”

She nodded.  “I’m more than sure, Drake.”

“You have no idea how much I want this, Lexie.” He could barely get the words out through the surge of desire that rushed through him.

Her mouth opened, and then her tongue was on his, and he was so far gone. His hands roamed her back before settling on her hips, which he gripped hard. She’d been running her hands through his hair, but now she moved them to his chest. She grabbed and bunched up the fabric of his shirt, trying to get him closer than physics would allow.

Drake broke the kiss, feeling like he had to come up for air. He was breathing as heavily as if he’d just run a marathon.

Then he kissed her ear, her cheeks, and slowly, softly, bit her neck. Alexis was dizzy and giddy; she felt a heat travelling from her chest to her core that made her feel like she was going to self-combust.

He knew he was torturing both of them with his slow movements, but it was their first time together. He wanted to take his time, make her enjoy every second of it.

He looked at her, letting his hands play with the front buttons of her dress. He undid one by one; kissing each portion of skin exposed to him, until she only had her lace underwear left.

“You’re a goddess, Alexis.” With the tips of his fingers, he made a path on her bare skin from her jawline to the hem of her underwear. “You deserve to be worshipped.” He put his hand on her back and unclasped her bra, carefully taking down one strap, then the other, while he kissed both shoulders, finally taking it off. He kissed her breasts, gently sucking her buds, rubbing them with his fingers. “Fuck, baby, I want to kiss - to feel - every single part of you.”

She tried to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers were shaking.  She was too nervous and excited and unable to function while he kissed her like that. He sensed her nervousness and moved to kiss her lips again.

“Look at me, Lexie.” She fixed her dark eyes with his. “Are you okay, baby?’

She nodded, smiling; her heart was beating too fast. He kissed her gently, cupping her face; he hadn’t told her yet how much he loved her, how lost he was for her, so he kissed her as deeply as he coul, to make her understand. She kissed him back hard, sure that he was going to drive her crazy.

He lowered himself to pepper her stomach with kisses, letting his tongue explore her. He caught the hem of her underwear with his teeth and pulled it down, painfully slowly. She was completely bare, exposed to him, and he allowed his gaze roam all over her exquisite body. He took his shirt, jeans and boxers off and lowered himself to kiss her again: first, her long legs that drove him mad, then her thighs and sensitive inner thighs and finally, the skin around her core. He felt her shiver underneath him and raised his face to look at her. She was completely lost, a pretty blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks, her lips parted, her hair a complete mess, her fists clenching the sheets. She drove him completely wild. He kissed her soft skin, letting his tongue enter her and tease her nub as she gasped and writhed underneath him. She had never felt anything remotely similar to the electric feelings he was producing in her.

While his tongue continued to discover her, he easily plunged two fingers inside her, pumping slowly at first and then mercilessly as she arched her body, moaning his name, oblivious to everything around her. She felt the wave of heat wash over her, catching her off guard. Her whole body convulsed, and a final cry left her throat. He removed his fingers, drenched in her juices, and licked them clean.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He ravaged her lips again. She groaned as she felt his weight settle down on top of her for the first time, his hips pressing into hers, his broad chest barely meeting her body. He’d propped himself up on his forearms, and she felt his hands moving through her hair even as his mouth kissed her repeatedly. It felt like she was covered in him almost head to toe. It was overwhelming.

He held her steady and moved his hips, feeling himself slide into her gradually, giving her time to adjust to him “You’re so beautiful, baby.” She moaned, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, thrusting his hips and leaning forward. “God, Lexie, you’re so fucking tight baby; you feel amazing.” Her hands desperately clenched the sheets again; she fought to keep her eyes open, but she could barely think. She could only feel him. He was inside of her, thrusting. He was ravaging her neck with his lips. He was holding her and caressing her lower back, her ass. He was talking to her, telling how beautiful she was. She arched her back when a jolt of pleasure invaded her. “Oh, my God, Drake … Drake,” she moaned endlessly.

He saw her writhing under him, her back arched, her eyelids shut, her full lips parted almost screaming. She’s mine; this gorgeous girl is mine.

“Say my name again, O’Brien,” he growled as he quickened the movement of his hips and she cried out, indiscernible sounds at first.

“Dr … Drake …”

He leaned into her. “Look at me, baby.” She seemed unable to do it. He pulled her back against him and whispered in her ear. “I want to see your beautiful eyes looking at me when you come.”

His words made her gasp, and she complied, locking eyes with him. He moved his hand, using the tip of his finger to circle over her core, as he pounded her faster without taking his eyes off of her. “Lexie you’re driving me insane.” He was about to explode.

She moaned his name over and over again until a wave of pleasure invaded her. “Drake … I’m … Fuck, Drake! I’m close.”

He felt his own release not far off, the pressure in his stomach growing as her movements sent pangs of heat shooting all over his body.  “Come with me, Lexie.”

“D-Drake …”

He crashed his lips against hers as she moaned against his mouth. He felt her stiffen against him, muffling her cries against his mouth.

“Drake!” She sobbed his name as her muscles clenched around him. The sensation of her around him and his name on her lips sent him over the edge with her, producing a grunt from him as he filled her completely.

He collapsed on the bed, pulling her against him as they floated down from their high.

He never wanted to move. Ever. He just wanted to stay here, with her, exactly like that, forever. He lazily trailed his hand up and down her back as she sighed contentedly, nuzzling his neck.

“That was …” She shook her head. “There are no words.”

He kissed her head. “For me either, Lexie.”

A few hours later, famished, they went to the kitchen to eat the dinner she had planned for them.

“I only have to put the dish in the oven for 30 minutes.”

Half an hour later, they sat in front of the fireplace with the cold wine.

“Lexie, the smell is incredible.”

“They’re called enchiladas. It’s a bit spicy. I really hope you like it.”

She was looking at him, biting her lip expectantly. She was so adorable that he couldn’t help but kiss her before tasting the dish. It was amazing.

The tomato sauce was a bit spicy and it mixed heavenly with the grated cheese and the chicken.  “Fuck, Lexie. This is delicious.”

She was eating, too, a pleased expression on her face. “I’d like to be polite enough to say it’s not. But I actually really liked it, too.”

He chuckled. “Love your modesty.” And I love you too.

When they finished their dinner, they drank and talked about their lives. Soon enough, their desire became impossible to ignore. They made love again in front of the fireplace for hours, consumed in each other. They fell asleep on the yarn rug until Drake’s phone alarm woke them at 6:00 in the morning.

Alexis took the phone angrily. “Do you have a death wish, Walker?”

He laughed. “So, not a morning person. Noted.” He kissed her bare back, making her moan again. “I would love to have time for that, baby, but I want to show you something.” He stood up, extending his arm to her. She took it and stood up as well, still drowsy.

He helped her down the stairs and told her to wear a thick jumper and her jeans. He took a couple of blankets and prepared a thermos with hot coffee.

They got out of the house and walked a short mile. When they arrived at the spot he was looking for, he spread one of the blankets on the sand, and they sat on it facing the sea.

“There’s not a better spot to see the sunrise in all Cordonia,” he stated, simply passing her the coffee thermos.

“Drake, it’s gorgeous.” She looked around, admiring the splendid pink lights.

He pulled out the other blanket and covered the two of them with it.

She cuddled against him, enjoying the incredible view.

“Bastien used to take me and Savvie here when we couldn’t sleep after my dad died,” he said, with a bit of nostalgia in his voice.

She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. Thinking about him, as a little boy sad and scared, broke her heart. She couldn’t believe how much she loved him after only a month.

He turned to look at her; her expression was serene, beautiful. He loved every single side of her, and he couldn’t think of a better moment to tell her than that one right then, with the sun rising.

He locked eyes with her, an earnest expression on them. “I know we only met a month ago, but I love you, Lexie. You have no idea how much.”

Her eyes watered, and she felt overwhelmed for a second before she could respond. “I love you too, Drake. I’m crazy about you.”  She knew they were meant to be together, she had never felt surer about anything in her life.

April 2019

Liam was waiting for Alexis in the living room with a glass of Scotch in his hand, lost in his thoughts about the past, about what he had done. It had seemed a logical thing to do back then, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He had betrayed his own values. She came down the stairs, still holding her phone. She put it on the table and sat on the couch next to him, twisting her engagement ring nervously.

“Did you speak with Rashad, love?”

“Yes, I did. I have to go there myself, Liam. It’s better.”  

He placed his glass on the table and leaned over to hold her in his arms. He hated the anxious look in her eyes, her sad expression.

“I’ll go with you. We’ll face it together, Alexis.”

She laid her head against his chest. “You know that I have to go by myself, Li. I’ll be fine, I promise.” She checked the time on her phone. “I better leave now; I don’t want to drive at night.”

Alexis kissed him and left the house, trying to show him a strong façade. Sometimes she felt that worrying about her was a full-time job for Liam, and she blamed herself.

She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror of the car. Five years after his death, and she still could see the emotional scars in her face, in her eyes. The closer she got to the house, the antsier she felt. She was going to open old wounds, to stir the past, and it was too painful; it hurt too much.

Even after all those years, just thinking about her life before the accident brought her to tears. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. They fought, frequently; they were both incredibly stubborn. They struggled about money, they had had too many sleepless nights and worries, but their love had been so deep, so powerful, that nothing else had really mattered.

Or so she thought.

She parked her car with her heart racing. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing had quickened considerably. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it was useless. After a few minutes of raising her hand to knock on the door and regretting coming there at all, she finally gathered some courage and did it.

When the door opened, she gasped. He had barely changed in almost five years. A few white hairs, more wrinkles, but he was still the same handsome man she had fallen crazily in love with.

He was preparing to go out when he heard the knock at his door. When he saw her standing at his doorstep in front of him, his heart stopped. He froze, completely unable to move or speak for a few minutes. Finally, his breathing steadied, and he was able to mutter her name.

“Alexis.”

“Hello, Drake. We need to talk.”

[racingtoaredlight]

Starts super slow...skip to around 2:45.

Wes Montgomery should be talked about as one of the dozen or so greatest guitarists of all time.  Of course, we’re in a post-Beatles post apocalyptic musical shit world where guitar forums have more posts about shit humanity like John Frusciante.

In completely different stuff...if you’re ever in a situation where you feel like you’re wildly gesticulating, doing most of the talking, going a mile a minute trying to impress someone on the other side of the conversation to the point where you have trouble maintaining eye contact, and the person you’re talking to is responding like Clapton...they do not respect you.  Your best bet is to politely excuse yourself from the conversation.

My absolute favorite moment is at the 1:40 mark.

“Macca”:  ...to give me a sort of [imitates crowd clapping]. Clapton:  Oh yea.  Yea. “Macca”:  It’ll give me a chance to...it’s difficult selling it to people.  Because if I were hearing this sell, I’d be a little unsure. Clapton:  /folds arms Clapton:  Well I’m not like that. “Macca”:  Oh yea, you’ll be happy.  It’s G.  Basically G.  Anything G, E-minor, blusey stuff will work. Clapton:  /arm folding intensifies Clapton:  Ok...

Macca is an annoying, stupid ass fucking nickname.  Also gotta love him bragging about Harvey Weinstein, that fuckface.