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joheun-saram · 4 years

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To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 8

Chapter 8: Housewarming

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Summary- Finally moved in together, Namjoon and Y/N relish their time together despite their schedules and stupid misunderstandings

word count- 8.8k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, smut, slight angst

warnings- extreme domestic fluff, mention of parental death, alcohol consumption, kink shaming (kinda? idk man), dom!joon, sub!reader, smut (unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex, marking, somewhat daddy kink, orgasm denial), safeword use (yellow), Namjoon being whipped but also being a dumbass, Y/N just trying to chill, Namjoon’s obsessed with her ass ig

a.n- apologies for this chapter taking literally forever! but i give you fluff for your patience. so much fluff omg. can i move in with joon already? but also we cant have this much fluff without a sprinkle of angst.

special s/o to @himbojk, @pars-ley, and @s0seo for beta reading parts for me and easing my worries 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond, @asdfghjklqwertyv, @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @goldenjongho

“Are you sure about this? It’s only been six months honey.” Your mother looked at you through the screen and you felt your heart tighten. She had that worried look on her face, the one that tells you that she will respect your decision but isn’t too happy about it. She looked different too, the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced as she frowned and you wish you could convince her of your decision.

“Seven, actually. I love him, mom. I thought you liked him?” She had been nothing but supportive of your relationship, trusting you to make the right decisions. It had been the two of you for so long when you were younger that it always felt weird that you were on your own now. When your father had passed away when you were starting high school, she had done everything in her power to ensure you never felt like you were down a parent. As a senior partner at a management consultancy, she had long hours and business trips but she always picked you up from school and often took you with her on her business trips. Her trips are the reason that by the time you finished high school, you had been to pretty much every major city in North America. Not to mention that watching her working is the reason you were so good at what you did now.

You remember when the first year after your father’s death you had to go to a father-daughter school dance and she donned one of his old suits to take you. You danced with her that night, surrounded by your peers and their fathers, but smiling at her as you nuzzled into her neck, her scent mingling with your dad’s on the clothes. You felt safe and you decided you never wanted to disappoint her. Maybe that’s where your drive to succeed came from - from ensuring that your mom, who worked long hours but still had a homemade dinner on the table when you came back from school, was proud of you.

“I do like him, honey. Namjoon is probably the best boyfriend you’ve had. I’m just worried you both are moving too fast.” She sighed as she sipped her tea. “He’s a rockstar, I just want you to be happy but what if things changed?”

“A rockstar?” You giggled. Sometimes you forgot that your mom was kind of old school, not beyond judging a book by its cover. “He’d probably die of embarrassment to hear you say that.”

“Y/N I’m just saying. Be careful with your heart.” Her voice was stern as she looked at you through the screen, her eyes narrowed with her warning.

“I know mom. I’m sorry. I trust him, you know. I don’t think I knew what love was till I met him. Having him around makes me feel safe, less lonely.”

“He’s still responsible for my daughter being in a cast.” After the incident, your mother had grown a bit wary of your relationship. She knew he was famous but she never realised just how many sacrifices the two of you had made to be together. You knew she was aware that Namjoon would never hurt you but you still felt bad that she was worrying over what was an anomaly. Speaking to Namjoon, you knew that something of the sort had never happened to him and his members, even to his other idol friends. The thought of it being such a rare occurrence had given you assurance and you hoped it would translate to your worried mother an ocean away.

“Mom! It’s not his fault. We’ve been over this!”

“I know, I know. I’m your mom. I’m just worried.” She sighed as she resigned from the conversation. You knew your mom had your best interests at heart but she didn’t know Namjoon like you did. She had met him twice over the screen and then had spent countless hours googling him and sending you clips of him breaking things with texts calling him out (“he better not be this clumsy with your heart”). You love her but you never know how to convince her that she had nothing to worry about. “Anyways, how’s my favourite son Harry?”

And so the conversation moved on from her qualms about your soon-to-be live-in boyfriend to your business as you told her about the plans you had for your company and talked about your friends. As you went to bed after hanging up, you looked at the empty side. It was the first time in weeks you were sleeping without your boyfriend but you were giddy as you thought about the morning when he would finally move in and you would never see that empty side again.

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“Baby why are all your shelves empty? Why have I never noticed this before?” Namjoon stood frowning in the kitchen with a box of his dishes and cutlery, something you made fun of him about since he notoriously lives on take out, as he placed his plates in the shelves above your kitchen counters.

“Really Joon? Do you know who you’re dating?” You giggled as you hopped off the counter you were sitting at and stood next to him. Reaching up to extend your uninjured hand as far as it could, you looked at him as you just about reached the bottom shelf. You were not that short but whoever designed this apartment thought the shelves looked extra elegant if they were extra high.

“Aw! You’re so cute!” He cooed as he patted your head condescendingly, causing you to scowl and narrow your eyes at him. Before you could retort, he put his arms around your waist lifting you so you were eye level with the shelves. “See? Now you can reach! Teamwork!”

You laughed as he put you down, turning around to wrap your arm around him. “Can’t believe we live together now,” you whispered into his chest as you felt him kiss the top of your head. Placing your chin against him you looked up, speaking in a hushed tone. “Promise me you won’t start hating me and my little quirks.”

“I could never hate you, as long as you promise not to get annoyed by me practicing in our living room.” Namjoon looked at you with a wide smile, as he cupped your face, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You hugged him as you looked across the kitchen island towards your large living room. The large shelf in the corner that once only housed only your books and vinyls was now filled with pieces of your boyfriend. The top shelves had his books with his own organization system (apparently organizing books based on colours was too chaotic for him) as his little collectible figurines stood at random places. Not to mention the tiny baby shoes he had added on one of the shelves (“They’re just cute! I’m totally not picturing a cute fat baby with your doe eyes!”).

You both had added another shelf near the balcony that now housed his extensive plant collection, in fact you had never seen this apartment more green, little plants scattered in the corners. In addition to your framed posters, there were now paintings from his collection, eclectic pieces that lit the blank white walls in color. You both had even moved the couch to the corner and added a mirror on the nearby wall that not only made the room look larger but would help Namjoon if he ever needed to practice his dances.

You sighed contentedly as what was once your home now became the both of yours, your hobbies and tastes intermingling in a perfect union. The den was now a studio, soundproofed and full of midi boards and amps - it seemed like a piece of Namjoon had a place in your home. The two of you had gone back and forth over where to live, whether to move into his house or buy a new place completely, but in the end you had decided your apartment would be best since it was close to both of your work places and because it housed the most memories you shared.

“Oh! Or we can buy a new place?” You looked up at Namjoon’s profile from where you laid next to him, you head in the crook of his arm, his fingers tracing circles on your skin, right above where your cast ended. You were both in bed, a few days after he asked you to move in together, eager to figure out where you would embark on your latest relationship milestone.

“What about here? I like it here. This is our spot.”

“Really you wanna move in here?”

“Yeah this is where we had our first official date. This is where we found out that Ken Burns documentaries make you fall asleep-” He grunted as you smacked his chest at his comment, laughing before continuing. “This is where I first found out how much I love your food. Heck, that living room was where I knew I was in love with you!”

“Oh? You haven’t told me that before.” The two of you turn on your sides to look at each other as you grinned at him in anticipation.

“Yeah it was like a few weeks after we became official. I came over and you were at the gym and when you came back we ordered like a massive pizza and you were so giddy while eating it, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m sure I had literal heart eyes.”

“You know you really like me and pizza together,” you joked as you played with the necklace he had given you, his hand coming to fiddle with the chain as well.

“What can I say? I like you covered in sauce.” He laughed as he held your chin and brought you in for a kiss, humming gently when you separate.

“Be honest though, you totally fell in love with me when I agreed to recreate that porn you like, didn’t you?”

“Ah fuck! You’re right, that’s like the number one reason we should move in here. This is where we found out calling me daddy makes you gag.”

“Yes I’m sure it was just calling you that and not your stupidly big dick.” You both broke into fits of laughter holding on to each other, falling back into the comforting silence, before Namjoon broke it looking at you with a smirk.

“So how about we break out that riding crop again? Hmm? Get you in some of that sexy lingerie?” He moved his arm lower from where it sat on your waist to your hips, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pajamas.

“But baby you said you loved my batman underwear,” you whined jokingly, giggling with your arm around his neck as you looked at him coyly.

“Honestly? I love you in anything.” He said earnestly as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, moving his body to lay on top of yours carefully avoiding your injured arm. “Or nothing…”

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The first week of living together was odd. The two of you had spent the month after deciding to move in together planning so much, even buying new furniture, but now that you were living together it was weird. It wasn’t a bad weird, in fact it was a very, very good weird. You and Namjoon had never lived with a partner before and much like when you first got together, it felt easy. Maybe it was practice from when Namjoon was over all the time, but it just felt so effortless being with each other.

You would be lying if you said your mother’s words hadn’t opened up an insecurity within you. You were messy, sure it was an organized mess, but you were messy. You tend to forget where you put things, and when you’re stressed even the smallest of inconveniences make you snap. However, somehow Namjoon just slotted himself into your life so seamlessly, you were finding it hard to believe how lucky you were.

On Monday, you came home and as usual threw whatever jacket you were wearing on the floor, he followed, silently picking it up and hanging it. Namjoon was organized and that made you remember where you left your keys on Tuesday, because now they were always in the cute little crab shaped plate near the foyer. On Wednesday you were infuriated with work and when you went to pee when you reached home, the toilet seat was up causing you to nearly topple in. But unlike usual when you would’ve torn whoever did that to pieces, you broke into a laugh, dialing Namjoon at practice and telling him you missed him. On Thursday, you had your doctor’s appointment to finally get the cast off, and when you returned home to excitedly show off your new arm, Namjoon frowned at the large scar before kissing it repeatedly and spending the night worshipping you. On Friday, the two of you saw the smog warning and donned some masks going to Yeouido Hangang Park, melding in with the mask-wearing strangers enjoying convenience store kimbap and beers as you read your book aloud to him, lounging on the sloping greens. That was also when he learned you didn’t know how to ride a bike, making it his responsibility to teach you.

“I still can’t believe you don’t know how to ride a bike!” Namjoon laughed as he held onto the handlebars. You struggled to keep the balance, your feet resting lightly on the pedals of the rented bike as he slowly pushed you.

“I skateboarded instead! You tell me that once you land an ollie!” you huffed, now pushing on the pedals, albeit gently. Namjoon found your hesitation adorable. He loved discovering these different sides of you. The fact that his always confident girlfriend seemed scared of something as simple as a bike when she was apparently doing tricks on a skateboard, made his heart swell. It was like you kept all your embarrassing secrets for him, you told him things that no one knew about you, and he couldn’t wait to discover more.

For Namjoon, moving in had been as easy as breathing, even though it had barely been a week. On Monday, he took a homemade lunch to work for the first time in a year. When he opened the box, the smell of your stew lingered in his studio and every time he returned from a meeting that day, the scent made him smile. On Tuesday, you came by his building to pick him up, waving excitedly as he wrapped up a livestream and tried not to giggle like a fool in love, which he very much was. Wednesday, he was having a tough time getting the new dance routine down, but then you called him out of the blue and it made his heart flutter, reenergizing him to finally nail the steps. When your cast came off on Thursday, he was again filled with guilt about his part in your attack, but your assurances helped him ease his mind. However, not as much as you screaming his name when he made you cum for the third time on his tongue. Namjoon had never felt so connected to someone before. Usually he would be scared to share so much of his life with another person, but with you he couldn’t wait. He felt extremely lucky just to be in your presence, soaking in the determined look on your face as he taught you how to ride a bike.

“Okay shit. Nevermind that’s really hot. Let’s go skateboarding next time,” he smiled at you mischievously, knowing that he was going to let go of the bike any second.

“I haven’t done that in ten - Oh my god! Don’t let go! Why are you letting go?” You looked behind you to see Namjoon put a thumb in the air in encouragement.

“You’re a big girl, you can do it. I believe in you!”

“I hate you! I’m gonna fall! How do I stop?!” You could feel the wind blowing through your hair as you steadily picked up speed, and you were terrified. How did you let your tree of a boyfriend talk you into this? There was a reason you had legs, why did you need these stupid wheels?!

“Just push the brakes and put your leg out.”

“Joon! Namjoon! I’m gonna fall!” You watched your life flash before your eyes as you cursed, falling on to the grass, your bike between your legs. Namjoon jogged up the few meters to stand above you, almost doubling over in laughter, causing you to cross your arms where you laid pouting at him. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Sorry! I just - you were going so slow! You literally fell in slow motion!” He continued laughing, even having the audacity to wipe a tear off his eye as you glared at him, before moving the bike and helping you up. “Come on up. There we go!” He beamed at you making it much harder to be mad at him when his eyes squinted in that adorable way they do when he’s extra pleased.

“If I break my arm again it’s your fault.” You leaned into him as he put an arm around you, the other walking the bike back to its station.

“Sorry, sorry! Okay I think that was enough practice. Let’s go home.” He pulled you closer, the bike now firmly locked and no longer charging him through the app. With your arms around his waist, you kind of felt bad giving up on learning so easily. He had seemed so excited when he suggested biking around the river.

“Sorry I can’t bike with you. I wanna share your hobbies!” You pouted, making Namjoon swoon.

“Baby we literally share like seven million hobbies. It’s okay if you don’t like biking. I hate all the Shark Tank episodes you make me sit through.” He laughed as you looked up at him, even with the mask covering half his face you could tell how his dimples would be poking through his cheeks at your comment.

“You said you liked them!”

“It was a month into dating you. I lied.” You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance as he smiled smugly. You knew he hated that show, he would always be getting up to go to the bathroom or get snacks during the pivotal moments. Well at least he was committed enough to not be on his phone when you watched together. Now that you think about it, he must really love you to sit through the marathon you had of it last month.

“So what else do you hate?”

“Arthur C Clarke. I don’t get why you love 2001 so much. It’s so pseudo philosophical and the sequels suck.”

“But the monolith Joon! The spark of curiosity and ambition! And like the combined consciousness! Come on!”

“Eh. Pretentious. Douglas Adams did it better.” He shrugged.

“I can’t believe you! Those are like two different concepts!” You laughed as he dissed one of your favourite books, enjoying his warmth against you as the two of you waited for the car to pick you up in the parking lot.

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Saturday would mark the first weekend of you both living together, and so it was time to celebrate. The two of you had taken the day off in preparation for the first party you would host together, in the apartment you lived together. Just the thought made you giddy. You walked around the grocery store, stocking up on snacks and alcohol as Hayoon, Namjoon’s favourite security personnel, helped you carry the basket that kept getting heavier. You still found it weird walking around with the 195cm, extremely buff older man, but with the attack still fresh in your head, it was comforting having the looming presence. You had noticed that people didn’t even look twice at you, when in the past your foreigner status would have had at least a few staring at you.

Thanking Hayoon for carrying your supplies and bidding him a goodbye, you walked into your living room to find your boyfriend dancing to music playing from his earphones. Somehow in the midst of cleaning and moving furniture to make room for the twenty something people you both had invited, he had started working. You couldn’t blame him when you yourself had taken the time in the car to answer a few emails. It gave you the perfect opportunity to share your present with him.

“I’ve got a surprise for you!” You walked over to block his view of himself in the mirror as he rolled his body to some unknown tune. It was quite funny watching his concentrated scowl turn into confusion, barely hearing you.

“Hmm?”

“Stop dancing! I’ve got a surprise!”

“Can’t stop babe I have to get this down before Monday.” Namjoon looked over your head into the mirror as he continued practicing his choreography, making you roll his eyes.

“Hmm maybe Kook would wanna go instead,” you said nonchalantly as you turned around and started to slowly back away, before Namjoon’s arm came around your waist, stopping you.

“Ah baby don’t do that. See, airpod out, I’m listening!” You grinned as Namjoon pulled his earphone out, stopping the music but continuing to dance.

“You know you look like one of the sims just dancing there without music,” you joked, giggling.

“Babbbbbe! Where are we going?” he whined.

“So you know how your favourite rapper is Nas?”

“Yes I’m aware.”

“I got backstage passes!”

“What? For me?” Namjoon stilled, a dopey grin on his face as you walked closer to him to show him the tickets on your phone. It wasn’t a huge present but when one of your clients had asked if you wanted to attend, you couldn’t refuse the tickets. It helped that your client owned the stadium the performance was at and had accommodated your special requests for privacy.

“And you get to watch from this barricade so you don’t have to worry about paparazzi or fans and you can just enjoy the show!” Namjoon’s heart swelled as he heard your words. You never failed to surprise him with how much you went out of your way to make him comfortable. Lately, you’d been making him want to declare your relationship to the world. It was a dumb fantasy and the two of you had talked (argued) about going public, but between the two of you it seemed that you were more against it.

“You’re coming with me right?” He put his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“I don’t know, I know I just said you’ll have privacy but what if someone sees us together? Maybe you can take Yoongi.” You look up at him with a frown, your hands on his chest, as you assessed the different ways the concert could affect your privacy. He hated how you had to overthink such a simple outing, mirroring your frown as he reached to relax the crease between your brows before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Shut up. I’m only taking you. The whole world can watch!” He grinned making you roll your eyes.

“You scare me with how easily you just said that.” You swatted at his chest. It really did scare you with how easily he’d been saying that lately. He wasn’t really an impulsive person, he usually thought everything through to the utmost detail and so his recent exclamations were worrying you. It’s not that you wouldn’t like to post one of the thousands of couple photos on your social media, it’s just you were worried about how toxic some netizens could be.

“Would it be so bad if everyone knew?” He pulled you closer, arms circling your waist as he pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with a little smile, wanting to play out his fantasy.

“Joon I’m not risking your career so we can go on a few dates.” You sighed, picking at his shirt at his chest where your hands laid.

“My fans will be happy to see me happy, baby.”

“Ugh let’s not argue about this right now. Do you like your surprise?” You put your arms around his neck as you peck his lips.

“Only if I get to enjoy it with you.”

“Yes yes I guess I’ll go see one of my favourite rappers with you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, bringing his lips to yours to kiss you gently. You returned it equally gently, getting lost in the warmth as he molded his lips to yours, tilting his head to get a better angle and squeezing your ass as he brought you even closer in his embrace. Before things could get heated, you pulled away, smiling as he followed your lips, eyes still closed. You pecked his lips a few times before moving away completely.

“Hey don’t let me distract you. Practice!”

“You’re such a tease. Meanie.” He pouted as you walked away with a wave in his direction, smirking at his petulance.

“Love you too Joonie!”

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Namjoon was drunk. He promised himself at the beginning of the party that he would stay sober to ensure his first party with you went seamlessly, but then the Ilsan boys showed up. The Ilsan boys were his high school friends, dubbed so by you. To say you liked them would be a stretch, since he always got too drunk when they were around, but he couldn’t help it. They made him forget all about being an idol and let loose. They were some of the few people beside you and his family that had that effect. Sitting on the couch that was pulled up to the window, he felt the alcohol race through his veins, and he was in his feelings. Beside him, Harry talked to Sehun, one third of the Ilsan boys as they talked about some tv show. He was happy, so happy he was smiling to himself as he rocked his feet on the ground, a beer in hand. He was happy and as he watched you across the room, he was also a little annoyed.

You were talking to Kang, another one of the Ilsan boys, as Jungkook stood with his arms on top of your head for support and Hoseok laughed at some joke you made. Before the party the two of you had decided not to be the couple that only hung out with each other, and since this party was literally just your closest friends, it was not that hard to do. But right now all Namjoon wanted to do was be petty and shove Jungkook off of you, wrap his arms around you instead and tell you how horny your skinny jeans were making him. Alright, correction. Namjoon was drunk, happy, and horny.

He bit his lip as he followed your curves with his eyes, watching the way your chest rose as you laughed, and the way your throat moved with each sip of your whiskey. Okay, that’s it. Screw the decision, he was walking over. Plus, he had stayed away for the past three hours, even had to watch you belt out his favourite My Chemical Romance song as you wiggled your butt, that had to count for something. He made his way to your little group, swaying a little as he shoved Jungkook a little too aggressively off you, making him protest over his spilled beer, before putting an arm possessively over your shoulder. He grinned as you leaned in, continuing your conversation.

“As I was saying there is no way Y/N is a sub. No fucking way!” Kang bellowed from where he stood. Namjoon’s brows furrowed at his comment. Why was he talking about his girlfriend this way? He felt an irrational surge of anger through him. He knew Kang was crass, his talks often devolving to his sex capades a few shots in, but did he really not respect Namjoon enough to be talking this shit in his own home about his girlfriend during their housewarming party?

Namjoon’s grip tightened around you protectively as Kang kept talking about your sex life. You only hummed, seemingly bored as you drank. Turns out you were playing a game, instigated by Kang of course, where you had to guess the other person’s kink, and if someone guesses correctly, you drink if not then the guesser drinks. Apparently you were in the spotlight for the moment.

Namjoon tilted his head, eyes narrowed at his childhood friend and raised an eyebrow. Kang, luckily for him, got the hint, shutting up with an apologetic glance at Namjoon. However, everyone else in the little group seemed to have missed this little interaction.

“I don’t know… I’ve seen hyung’s porn collection. He definitely has a daddy kink.” Jungkook scratched his chin as he slurred out the words, like he was trying to decipher a difficult math problem.

“Dude Y/N would rather puke than call Namjoonie daddy.” Hoseok laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you with a knowing smirk. You laughed, a little too hard in your tipsy state, and Namjoon felt his blood run cold. You had definitely said those words to him, even pretended to jokingly gag when he brought it up the first, and only, time. He stood straighter at Hoseok’s comment. Had you told him about this? Why would you tell Hoseok of all people? You weren’t even close!

His jaw ticked as the group laughed, oblivious to the sudden hurt he felt. He felt exposed, naked and vulnerable, all because of you. He didn’t know if his feelings were elevated with the alcohol in his body, but he suddenly felt like he was losing all trust in you. You didn’t even seem phased, not noticing that his arm was no longer around you as you giggled at their antics.

“Okay. Time to reveal the winner!” You started, your arms wide and voice low as Jungkook used Hoseok’s chest as a makeshift drum, tapping at it lightly in a drumroll.

“Nope.” Namjoon couldn’t help but cut you off. There was no way you were sharing intimate details of your sex life with these idiots. He didn’t know how things worked in Canada, but here in his house he sure as hell was not hearing his friends talk about your kinks. He grabbed your wrist, taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the table before dragging you into the guest bathroom by the kitchen.

“Aww Joonie! Now I have to do three shots!” You pouted at him, oblivious to the storm brewing in his head.

“No.”

It was all he said before he crashed his lips to yours, taking your surprised yelp as an opportunity to roughly press his tongue to yours. He didn’t know what overcame him, he initially wanted to talk to you but something about the utter lack of remorse on your face snapped something in him. Oh those guys didn’t think you were a sub? He was going to prove them all wrong and make you beg for him while no one outside had a clue. It was his biggest turn on after all, to see you confidently striding through every room demanding respect and attention, only to turn into an obedient little girl for him.

He had been horny all night, rocking a semi every time he looked at you, and your little moans as you wrapped your arms around him now only made him harder. He kissed you with more force, removing your hands from around him and pinning them to the door behind you as his lips ventured down your neck to where your blouse started.

He let go of your hands, pleased to see them remain immobile against the door, and reached for your jeans, the same jeans that had been taunting him all evening. Kissing down your body, he pulled the jeans off your legs, turning you around roughly once you stepped out of them. With your ass in front of his face, he couldn’t help himself, biting at the flesh, smirking at your surprised yelp.

He stood up behind you, bending you over the sink. Pulling your shirt up and gripping your jaw, he placed the hem in your mouth. He kissed your neck, keeping his eyes on yours through the mirror as his hands pulled the cups of your bra down to grope you firmly. You didn’t know what had gotten into him suddenly, but you were not complaining, your shirt getting wet as did your panties. Wordlessly, he continued, his hands roaming your body to reach your heat where he didn’t hesitate to slide your panties to the side and thrust two fingers in, making you moan loudly at the sudden stretch.

At your moan, his lustful eyes met yours as he increased his speed, the sound of your squelching pussy filling the air. Namjoon couldn’t help himself anymore, he needed to be inside you, teach you a lesson for being so oblivious to him. Unbuttoning his jeans, he released his dick, already dripping with precum at how turned on he was at the prospect of one of your friends knowing what was happening behind doors. Without a second thought, he lined himself up at your entrance to plunge himself right to the hilt.

You moaned at the sudden aggressive move, your skin tingling with excitement to see your boyfriend this needy for you. Namjoon didn’t usually get this aggressive right off the bat, and his rare sexual desire made you heat up, mewling at the stretch. You braced yourself against the counter as you watched Namjoon’s face contorted in pleasure, his jaw tight as he rammed himself into you again and again, leaving your breathless and with your legs shaking.

“Fuck… I can’t believe we’re fucking in the bathroom… at our own party!” you moaned at a particularly hard thrust.

“That’s what you get for being such a fucking tease all night.” Namjoon leaned closer to speak in your ear, his chest molded to your back as one of his hands pulled your nipple while the other turned your head towards him, leaving sloppy wet kisses on your neck. You need more, needed to kiss him, needed his fingers on your clit, anything.

“Joonie…” you mewled, looking at him pleadingly.

“Ah don’t try to get all soft on me now baby.” He smacked your ass, aiming right where his bite mark was visible, making you preen. “Did you think you were funny telling Hobi how you gagged on my cock when I called myself daddy, hmm?” His hips moved hard, pushing you further into the sink, your walls clenching around him and you were sure your hips were going to bruise from where they slammed against the counter. Your skin was pebbling with goosebumps and you felt like you could feel every vein on his cock as he continued to move in you. With his hand on your jaw, he moved your face towards the mirror, enjoying the way your mouth was held open and eyes wide with want.

“Answer me baby. Did you like embarrassing me in front of our friends?” Namjoon knew he really shouldn’t bring his issues into the bedroom, especially when you allowed and trusted him with how you gave up control, but the concoction of hurt, anger and beer in his veins overrode his rationality.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you at his words, finally realizing what had gotten him so riled up. Making eye contact in the mirror, you couldn’t tell if this was all part of a scene he’d come up with or if he was serious. Before you could say anything, he spanked you again, his thrusts slowing, but somehow getting harder. Although you were concerned, you couldn’t deny how you could feel your orgasm rising, your walls tightening around him.

“Do you like seeing me get hurt in front of my friends?” He gritted out, his gaze darkened.

“H-hurt?” you stuttered, alarmed.

“Yeah baby, hurt. You think I like you sharing our secrets?” He was back at your neck, nipping the flesh and soothing it with his tongue. “You think I liked you and Hobi laughing at me, pretty girl?” he sneered, but you could see past it. Behind the lust in his eyes, he was actually hurt, his eyes glistening, and although you were enjoying this sudden, surprise sex, your needs could wait.

“Joon… fuck… yellow. Yellow.” You grunted, despite your body begging you to let him continue so you could cum. Suddenly Namjoon froze, pulling out. His eyes softened immediately with concern as he ran his hands up and down your arms to comfort you.

“Shitshitshit sorry! Was that too much? Too rough? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He spoke fast, trying to gauge your expression in the mirror.

“Are you okay? Are you actually mad about Hobi?” You turned around, cupping his face as you looked up at him. He sighed, biting his lip a couple of times and contemplating if he should talk about it now.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I just - it kinda fucked me up.” He averted your gaze, opting to look at the wall next to the two of you, and you felt your heart ache at his words. “Like I was pretty vulnerable when I shared that kink with you and I get it - it’s cliched and basic and you weren’t into it but I feel like you guys were laughing at me. I don’t like getting laughed at by my girlfriend behind my back with one of my best friends.” He looked at you towards the end of his statement, the fiery look back in his eyes. You knew he was mad, but truly he had no reason to be. In fact, thinking more about it made you sad that he would think that you would purposely kink shame him or laugh at him for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Joonie. It’s not even like that. I’m so sorry baby. Do you wanna talk about -” But before you could finish your sentence, he spun you around again.

“No.” He spoke firmly, lining himself once again, fully back into his dominant persona. “Much. Rather. Fuck. My. Frustrations. Out. Colour?” He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips, making you mewl, your earlier lost orgasm revving back up slowly.

“Green. Fuck Joon!” He bent you over further at your words, holding tightly to your hips as he fucked you.

“Tell me when you’re close, baby. You don’t get to cum tonight.” He spoke, his voice strained from his harsh movements. Oh, he must be really mad. Namjoon took pride in making you cum, often overstimulating you, but this was new. He’d never flat out denied you an orgasm before, and the thought made you want to cum even more.

“Joonie. I’m sorry. Please... fuck! You feel so good.” You mewled, looking at him with puppy eyes. You didn’t know how long you could hold your orgasm if he continued, the coil in your stomach tightening at his every move.

“No can do pretty girl you gotta learn your lesson.” He smirked, spanking your ass for good measure, the slap ricocheting through the walls of the small bathroom. You really hoped nobody needed to pee, glad that the music was pretty loud, you could almost sing along to the SHINEE track in the background.

“Please daddy?” You knew he was mad at you for this, but in your lust-addled, desperate mind you just wanted to do anything to please him.

“Fuck off! Don’t make me ban you from cumming all week.” He gritted out, almost panting with how fast he was going, chasing his own release as he spanked your ass twice.

“God. Oh my god, Joon!” You felt him get sloppy, almost on the brink of your orgasm. Namjoon could feel you tighten impossibly hard, and with one last thrust he pulled out, stroking himself before cumming on your ass with a loud groan. You whined, your head on your arms as you felt your orgasm ebb away, your clit throbbing in need.

Namjoon leaned next to you, catching his breath, as he looked at your wrecked state, legs shaking, hair a mess, your tits hanging out of your bra.

“Did you cum?” he asked, stroking your hair as you looked up at him.

“No…” He kissed you at that, gently and quickly.

“Good girl. Now let’s clean you up, we have a party to host.” He buckled his pants, as he handed you some toilet paper, fixing your shirt, and once you cleaned up, helping you put your pants back on. He was still hurt, but weirdly sated. He knew it would take time for him to get over this, but he still felt lucky knowing that you’d understand as he watched you fix your makeup in the mirror.

“Joon, are you still mad?” You spoke after a few minutes, voice uncharacteristically meek, making Namjoon wish he waited till after the party was over, so he could tend to you properly after being so rough.

“A little. It’s just kind of stings right now.” He spoke after a few beats of contemplation leaning against the sink. When in other relationships, he got used to just saying he was fine, with you he felt that he could be honest even if it hurt, and although he still felt somewhat betrayed, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry, truly. I swear it’s not what you think. We weren’t laughing at you, promise! I love you.” You looked at him with such sorrow that he almost felt stupid for having such feelings, wanting to pacify you, but he knew you’d hate it if he did so.

“Ah don’t make that face.” He pouted at you slightly, cupping your face in his hands.

“What face?” You ask, eyes wide, cheeks a little squished by his hands and he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

“That face! Makes me want to kiss you.” He whispered, before capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones.

“Joonie… baby, talk to me.” You pleaded, you hands on his, but he just leaned down to peck your forehead instead.

“Shh, yellow on this convo for now. Let’s just go back to the party. I love you too, pretty girl.” He smoothed your hair once again, before moving to the door. He paused at your lack of movement, turning around to see you frowning as you looked at him. He knew you wanted to talk it out, it was in your nature to solve problems immediately, but Namjoon needed time. If he talked about it now, he would probably get angry, or worse start crying. He needed to think things through.

“Even when you’re mad?” you said quietly.

“Even when I’m mad. Now let’s go before anyone figures we’re missing.” He took your hand and walked you out, the party none the wiser of your little indiscretion. However, if anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed how off the mood was between the two of you, your smiles not reaching your eyes, and your cups always empty.

----------

You stared at the screen, the cursor blinking as you tried to put your thoughts together. This expansion into Japan was going to be the death of you. You had been working on the strategy for months now but nothing appealed to the board who never lost the opportunity to remind you of your age or lack thereof. With your combined shares Harry and you could technically override any of their decisions, but antagonizing the board further would only lead to more problems in the future so you just grinned and bore it.

You had spent all day at the office trying to figure out the new strategy to beat out the competing company that already existed in Tokyo to get sufficient market share to make the expansion viable. Siwon had been kind enough to be your scribe while you word vomited at him but as you looked at the page now it made little sense. You were kind of embarrassed that he had to type out this bullshit.

Frustrated at your lack of progress, you looked at the clock, and reading the 11:34 pm displayed there with a grimace as you stood up to walk to the kitchenette on your floor. Starting a pot of coffee you talked to yourself as you fidgeted with the cups, stacking them this way and that. You kind of wished Harry would’ve stayed late tonight to talk through the strategy with you but apparently Jen had been pretty annoyed with all his late nights so you had no choice but to do it alone. You didn’t mind it as much usually, you enjoyed the silence of the empty building, enjoyed filling it with your favourite songs as you worked through your thoughts.

Tonight however you were pretty annoyed to be working late. After the party, Namjoon had spent Sunday sulking about, still refusing to talk out what you thought was a minor issue of miscommunication. If you were being honest, part of your frustrations tonight might be due to the fact that a part of your brain kept pestering you with the same thoughts. Mom was right, you moved in and look, already not talking to each other. If you can’t resolve this tiny fight, how will you have a future? He’s probably sick of you already.

Trying to practice your coping mechanisms, you let the thoughts pass through your head. They were just negative thoughts, they did not define you as a person, do not react to them. You took a deep breath, focusing instead on the task ahead.

As you walked to your desk with your third cup of coffee of the evening and thought about your business plans, you started resenting your board more and more. It was one thing to want a flawless strategy but they failed to understand that there was literally no strategy in the world that would be as risk averse as they wanted. They thought you too impulsive, too bull-headed to do something that was low risk. They had the audacity to think that you were building all the riskiest strategies on purpose when in reality to get the outcome you wanted there had to be an equal amount of risk to go with it. Sighing, you started typing your thoughts, bulleted, on the doc as your phone rang.

“Namjoon?” you asked as soon as you picked up the phone, a bit surprised that this is how he was choosing to break his pseudo silent treatment.

“Just called so you’re not startled.” You heard Namjoon twice, once in your speaker and once from right in front of you. Regardless of his efforts, you jumped in your seat to see him standing in front of you. Holding your hand on your heart, you looked up at your boyfriend standing over your desk in a matching pair of grey sweats and sweater, a black mask under his chin as he looked at you with amusement at your reaction. It never failed to endear him how you were easily startled at the smallest things.

“Did you eat yet?” He asked as he leaned over the desk, his lips puckered. Sighing a yes, you kissed him, feeling your stress reduce at the touch, relieved that he seemed to be more open to communicating now.

“What brings you here?” You asked, reclining back in your seat as Namjoon pulled up a chair next to you.

“I just got done. Thought I’d pick you up.”

“How did you even know I was still here?”

“Boyfriend senses.” He winked, his arm resting on the back of his chair. You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and really wishing he didn’t go all the way home to come back. “Fine. Siwon texted me. You know it’s bad form to worry your assistant so much he has to call your boyfriend for back up.”

“I’m sorry he texted you.” You leaned forward in your chair with a sheepish smile. Inside however, you were glad Siwon had given Namjoon a push to talk to you. Knowing Siwon you were sure it wasn’t a random concern but probably born out of your talk with him this morning.

He made a noise stating his displeasure at your apology and shaking his head, before reaching out to hold your hand where it lay on your lap. “So when’s this due?”

“Can we talk about Saturday night?” You answered his question with your own, dreading a mood swing, but impatient to explain your side and ease his worries. You really wanted things to go back to normal. Even though it had only been one day, you missed him. He had barely cuddled you in his sleep the last two nights, and you missed the intimacy, and as needy as it sounded in your head, you just wanted him to hold you.

He sighed deeply, leaving your hand to run his hands over his face. With his elbows on his knees, he hunched down, covering his face. He really should let you explain, but he was tired from practice and he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to deal with an argument. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it.”

“Please. Let me explain.” You stood from your chair squatting in front of him and pulling his hands away to make him look at you. With another sigh of resignation, Namjoon nodded for you to continue.

“Hoseok doesn’t know anything. He said that as a joke randomly.” You spoke carefully, watching Namjoon’s eyes widen as he frowned. “Honestly he’s been your friend for so long I just assumed you told him that’s why he was looking at me like that. You know I didn’t agree or disagree. I just laughed because of the memory.”

Namjoon felt like an idiot. It was such a simple explanation. He was kicking himself for not thinking about this earlier, for spending a whole day avoiding you. As he looked at the earnesty in your eyes, he wanted to go back in time and smack himself on the head for making you feel guilty over this non-issue.

“I’m a fucking asshole,” he groaned, covering his face as he rolled his chair away from you in shame. You stood, walking over to him before pulling his hands away yet again, sitting in his lap sideways. His hands instinctively went around your waist, making sure you didn’t slip off.

“No I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed,” you whispered, frowning as you put your arms around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.

“I’m such an idiot,” he sighed, rubbing his hand on your thigh, his touch sending a comforting warmth through you. “Also, I’m sorry for earlier.”

“For what?”

“Not letting you cum.” He looked so devastated, his lips pulled down by his guilt as he stared at you, that all you could do was giggle. It was silly that he thought some of the best sex you’d had was bad just because you didn’t cum.

“It’s fine you were in your dom persona.” You smoothed his hair as you kissed his cheek, making him shyly turn away from you, before he looked at you with a determination in his eyes.

“No it’s not fine. In all the research I’ve done one thing they always warned against was domming angry or like using it to resolve issues or punish your partner in a way they didn’t know what started the punishment, and I don’t know what came over me. I was mad and it was unfair of me to use our kinks against you.” He ranted, his frown getting deeper as his grip around you got tighter. With all his goofy antics around you usually, you forgot how serious Namjoon could get, and although the two of you had promised each other to be honest, it was still jarring to hear his rant. It meant he had been thinking about his actions and it bothered you that he was feeling guilty. When he stopped to take a breath, you brought his lips to yours, kissing him with all the affection you could muster. It wasn’t hard - showing him you loved him. In fact, it was the easiest thing to do, as you let your lips assure him and ease the storm in his head.

“I’m perfectly okay Joonie. It was hot.” You chuckled as you broke away and met his gaze filled with adoration. You felt lucky to have him in your life, and although this fight didn’t seem to have lasted that long, you missed him. Kissing him at midnight in your office, you felt content, your stress from the day melting away at his touch.

“Still. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?” He said as he kissed you again. “Let’s go home, baby.”

You stood and as you packed your stuff, he clung on to you, nuzzling your neck, equally missing your touch. Although you were headed home, you felt it in his arms already.

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natromanxoff · 4 years

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I am sure many of you have already read this one but here are some parts from Ash Alexander’s Queen journey for those who haven’t!

“...At some point in early At some point in early 1983 on a visit to Jacky at the QFC, John Deacon wondered into the office. He came into the basement office and said hello as Jacky introduced me, sat down and spent a little time reading through press clippings. He could easily have slipped away back upstairs, but the fact that he stayed was a nice touch.

Another fan club letter arrived with good news. In Another fan club letter arrived with good news. In November 1983, fan club members were invited to help in a video for the new single 'Radio Ga Ga' at Shepperton Studios. Again, my Mum stepped up and drove me down for the day. I took the day off school and had just turned 14. We arrived at the studio and were ushered into a huge hanger where we were kitted out with white body suits and then sprayed with a light grey stripe on each arm - even now I’m not sure what the spray paint was for as you can’t see it in the video. When we had all been prepared, we were taken into an adjoining hanger and were greeted by the band and an initial play through of the song. The rest of the day was spent clapping as you’ll see in the video. I wound up in the front row, opposite Brian. If you look closely and you know what you’re looking for, you can see me!

In between takes, I approached John Deacon who was surprisingly on his own. I remember trying to remain calm as I approached him. I didn’t mention our brief meeting, I asked him how to get a job in recording studios and that I was interested in pursuing a career as a sound engineer. He was really helpful and took time to explain the usual route.

On 22, March 1984 at Limehouse Studios in London’s docklands, the video for ‘I Want To Break Free’ was filmed, again with the help of fan club members. I went along with my brother Andrew. The set was a big dark staircase that we all stood on. We were given black bodysuits this time that were sprouted with hello paint on the arms. We also wore a hard hat with a head lamp attached to it. The band were set in the middle of us all. After all the filming, we returned to the main building where we said hello to Roger. He’d come out to say thanks. Later, waiting for a cab down in reception, Freddie glided down the staircase and past us with his entourage. I remember wanting to get up and say thanks, but the opportunity was missed.

...20th April 1992. My friend Chesney Hawkes was managed by Trinifold. They also managed The Who. He invited me along to the Freddie Mercury Tribute gig at Wembley. Roger Daltry was appearing and Ches had a spare ticket. He only had one backstage pass though. This was overcome by him befriending the chap on the security door. Ches came out to meet me with his pass. He returned on his own and got in. I confidently flashed my pass and entered the Hard Rock tented area. Ches beckoned me over from the other side of the room. He was signing autographs for a lady, her two children and an older lady was with them. He introduce me to them saying I was a huge Queen fan. ‘This is Freddie’s mother' he whispered to me. I remember saying to her that I wish we’d met under different circumstances and how deeply sorry I was about her loss and how incredibly proud she should be. I often wonder about her.

...In Spring 1993, I was in front office. It was well after midnight and I’d left a s session for a little break. As usual, I took a look in the studio diary to see what was coming up. I flicked through the weeks and came upon an booking entry “Studio 3 - QUEEN” for 2 weeks that was pencilled in. There was no further info than that. I put my initials next to the booking thinking there would be a rational explanation as to what the booking really was. I soon found myself on a 2 week session with Queen.My diary from 1993 is lost, so I have only a mental note as to when & what songs were touched upon at this initial stage of 'Made In Heaven'. We started taking delivery of various multitrack tapes on varied formats. These were then transferred to digital 48 track tapes for future work. Roger & John were alone on these sessions as Brian was touring in Japan. I remember Roger being rather dismissive of Brian being unavailable, much like a brother sledging his sibling would do, with a slightly jealous edge but genuine at the same time.

...Over the 2 week session, Roger would suggest we went out for dinner. We had 3 or 4 meals out at a local Italian restaurant. Even now I laugh at jumping into the back of Roger’s Merc and the four of us driving down Abbey Road to the restaurant. It was owned by an Italian lady that would force you to smell her ‘wonderful mushrooms’ from a jar, which she made Roger do. On our initial meal she told Roger he looked familiar. ‘I know you’, she said. ‘Where have I seen you before?’ ‘Well, I’m in a band and we’ve been on TV before.’ Roger replied. John seemed calm with his lack of recognition. ‘What group do you play for?’ she asked. ‘I’m the drummer in a rock n roll band called Queen’ he replied. ‘No - I don’t hear of this band’ …We finished our food and the bill was called for. It showed up. John took it and asked Roger if he should use the Queen card to pay for it or his own card.

Roger’s drum kit arriving half way through the first week of sessions was a surprise for Noel Harris (the engineer) & me. We expected the sessions to be playing back tapes and working through the various formats to find possible material to be worked on at a later date. Noel was unfamiliar with the room in studio 3 and asked my opinion where to set the kit up and what microphones I would use. Eventually he left me to it. The kit was positioned and I mic’d it up that evening. John had his red Fender bass DI’d (no amp was used) and sat with us in the control room. I doubt these recordings made it through to the final mixes, it’s nice to think that they did.

...Tuesday 5th September

During the afternoon Brian’s guitar and a Vox AC30 appeared in the studio, brought in by Pete Malandrone. We were to do guitar overdubs on ‘You Don't Fool Me’. David asked me to put two Shure 421 microphones pointing into the back of the speaker cabinet. We did have two SM57’s on the front but these weren’t used in the recording.

I had to do a recall of the mix, which meant noting all of the studio outboard settings so we could get back to the mix and finish it off.

We had a technical problem with the Sony 3348 tape machine and eventually had it swapped for a new one. Brian clearly wasn’t aware we weren’t ready for him. I was half way through telling him and Jim Beach jumped in and finished off my explanation. Brian got really cross with him and slammed an empty coffee mug down on the studio table. Later Brian was so apologetic for his outburst. He must have told Jim he was sorry 4 times. As I type this I note it was Freddie’s birthday.

Brian slipped on his guitar that was linked to his amp with one lead. No pedals. His sound was instant and we were soon ready to record. He stood in front of the console in the control facing David & me.

Brian had an idea of what he wanted to play. The guitar riff had already been recorded. The solo guitar is what was added. Brian used a scrap of paper that he drew a map of dots on. Not like musical notation but his own short hand. It reminded me of being at the 'Radio Ga Ga' video shoot 13 years earlier. I was the same distance from Brian as I was then, but the scenario was beyond my imagination.

...Friday 8th September

Day Off - I may have met Pete Malandron at the Sun Inn in Barnes this afternoon. The QIFC was based round the corner at the time & Brian had a house there too, although I'm not sure he lived there at the time. I was with a friend and Pete joined us in the pub. He sat near the window and kept looking out of it. I asked what he was looking at and he replied "I always get worried when I'm out with Brian's guitar. It's in the boot of the car you see." He stayed for one drink and decided it was time to leave.

...One of the evenings of this second week, George Michael came to visit. There was a strong possibility that he would sing on one of the songs. Roger, John, Brian, David, George & I sat chatting in the control room. One of the conversations moved onto the Beatles and their current 'best of' release. I think Brian suggested that it was a bad idea releasing all their old material and I piped up that the fans would buy it regardless, much like the scenario Queen were about to face with the imminent release of the album. There was a deathly hush as I realised what I was saying. I wasn’t being at all derogatory. I was helped out of the hole I was digging by George who agreed with me and we moved on. No one actually spoke about doing a vocal. After George left the studio that evening, Roger was clear that he wasn’t keen on the idea.After looking through the Vintage Car garage across the road from the studio one afternoon, Roger saw a black Cadillack convertible that he quite liked. The following morning he came into the studio and said ‘Don’t tell Jim, but I bought the car.’ It was £80, 000.

Brian asked me if had been involved in the Abbey Road Sessions. Perhaps he’d seen my name on the tape boxes. I said that I was. Immediately he made a phone call. I didn’t hear all that he said, but I knew it was about a special thanks on the album credits. The following morning, after the artwork had been finalised, Roger came in and said ‘morning Aardvark’. Because the special thanks were alphabetic, I was on top of the list. It wasn’t until I bought a copy of the album and saw my name on it that I finally took on board that I had actually achieved one of my dreams.”

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon

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werewolf-kat · 3 years

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Introduction Post

Is this title too formal? Ah well.

Hello, I’m WolfKat! A werewolf in some fantasy existence, and thusly what I use to represent myself online. I like to keep my human self private.

My main areas of skill are in drawing, web design, and some story writing on the side. More on those in another post in the future.

I’m 26 years old as of February 2021 (year of this post). Just existing.

I used to be active here on another account mainly for Gravity Falls stuff back in est. 2015 until maybe 2018. My activity died down and then some drastic, traumatizing events in 2019 really burned me out. I moved onto Twitter for a while and decided I would leave Tumblr for good?

Look how that turned out. Here I am again! But I’m starting fresh on this new account.

And during 2020, I uuhh, had more self-reflection during the isolation with more daring self-confrontations than I have in a while. For things I would question about myself, but wouldn’t feel “allowed” to accept due to my upbringing and the painful subconscious programming that can still induce sick feelings to my stomach and moments of existential dread for my fate after death.

Born and raised in Georgia. Surrounded by baptists, fundies, evangelicals, you name ‘em. Connect the dots from there!

Anyway, to summarize my new self-discoveries... I don’t fit with gender binary stuff. So I’m experimenting with just... Being a neutral “they.” Though I do find comfort in presenting more conventionally masculine.

Having to be considered “female” in my past always felt like a costume; an uncomfortable social obligation so that navigating the world would be smooth when I otherwise struggled in it. In the end, my particular long-term obsession with secret and alternate identities growing up has caught up with me - ‘cause now I have to hide these aspects of myself from people irl! Very fun. My life here on the internet is pretty different to what I have to present of myself offline around locals and family.

It’s still difficult to embrace this and it’s been only since December 2020 through January 2021 that I slowly discussed this with close friends, and then opened up about it briefly and subtly online. I don’t like putting spotlight on this extra personal stuff about myself, so even writing this much without specifics has me a nervous wreck.

Moving on now!

I’ll have a page for interaction boundaries as I want to set those clearly and firmly on my social media and any online presence I have.

And likewise to how I ran my previous blogs, there will be a page for my common, general tags I’ll use to organize posts on here!

There will also be another blog I’m working on, which will be for my business side of things. It’ll be some time before it’s up and running since I want to make a custom theme for it. That’ll be a fun little personal project for me to do!

On that note, I’ve made some nice progress with [vanilla] JavaScript in the past 2 years. I’m still not super fancy with it yet, but I’m steadily getting there I hope? Only the front-end stuff too. I tried some back-end last month ‘cause I felt somewhat ready for NodeJS... It fried my brain beyond just setting up a localhost.

But back on the front-end stuff, I currently make assets and such using HTML, CSS, and JavaScript for OBS’s browser sources! Two of them are free, and the others I sell on my Ko-Fi shop. I accept tips on Ko-Fi too if you wanna drop any instead of buying from the shop. I’ll appreciate any of that!

There’s quite a bit more I have planned, including the occasional project where I can spare time to make it free. They’ll usually be free out of legal obligation... Using IP’s and all, having them be fan works. Can’t risk selling those, y’know?

On the side of drawing, I’ve started using Clip Studio Paint this year... And it’s real darn fun! A generous close friend of mine gifted the base program to me as a belated birthday gift, since it had gone on sale in March IIRC! Been trying to learn how to animate on it (it’s not the fancy edition with extra animation tools) and it can get a little confusing still. But I’m sorta getting it.

For my birthday, I also got gift money to get my portable tablet! I desperately needed that because my unknown physical problems have made it uncomfortable to draw at the desk tablet I’ve had for a few years already. Apparently sitting up straight and/or leaning forward for a little while makes my heart skip beats and/or fully go into tachycardias after ever since having my ablation? Yeah. Gets scary.

So, with the portable tablet I can finally enjoy drawing again. And comfortably in bed... Where I can lean back and relax my body a lot better! Even more recently I got a metal flexible arm that holds my tablet up higher so it’s better for my neck too. I’m doing my best to make things more ergonomic with the very scarce money I earn at all. I have no real income or financial living at this time.

I think that’s all I can do for catching people up to speed with me for anyone who’s known me here before. And for any newcomers, you’ve gotten a first glimpse of me as well! There’s still more, but I think this is enough of a read as is.

My other online presences(?) will also soon be part of my navigation. Stay tuned! Can’t wait to share some art here too and whatever else of my interest!

#wk speaks #personal #wk introduction #original art #werewolf kat #my art #after the read more is a #gif

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wherethehoesat · 4 years

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paint me perfect; ft. akaashi keiji

"in which he paints her bare figure across the canvas and falls in love with the person he'd created-"

painterxmuse au

thick swirls of paint on an empty canvas, eyes flickering back and forth towards his muse, face passive, focused on his art. slashes of rosy red lips curved downwards, e/c colored eyes glistening with colorless tears, shadowed perfectly as if it were real.

he bit his lip in deep thought, glancing at the lady, his stare burning your naked skin. you only had a piece of glittering sky blue cloth draped over your exposed abdomen as you tilted her head, looking up to fluorescent lights and white ceilings, looking very much like the teary eyed woman he'd portrayed.

another glance, another flicker of emotion passing through his eyes that you wouldn't see as you posed, poised to perfection. "we're done here." he claps his hands, snapping you out of your statue-still form, an easy smile forming on your lips as you clutched the lacy fabric onto your chest.

"let me see how i look on your paintings ‘Kaashi." a playfulness in those e/c orbs that made him roll his eyes, still, he pushes the painting towards you, making it face your direction. a soft sigh escapes your lips, in awe of what he’s made.

he had painted you against dark blue skies, stars winking to life behind your naked figure looking up to a moon cupped in your palms as a tear trickled down your skin, flawless, utterly mesmerizing.

"i owe you a drink for this truly amazing piece." you chuckle at him, back turned as you walked towards your belongings, clothes hung over a wooden bench seemingly misplaced amongst the vast sea of white. you slips on your bra first, head turning towards him in a somewhat pleading look. slightly annoyed, he waltzes over to you, clipping on your bra for you, "you really need to practice doing these things on your own l/n." he mutters under his breathe. in the quiet studio, you hears his words all the same and let out a small laugh as you turns towards him, dressed only in your bra, having discarded the lacy blue fabric you'd used to cover herself.

"don't act like a virgin ‘Kaashi. it's not like you haven't slipped off that same bra from my body." you wrap your hands on his neck, bare figure pressing against him, noses touching as you kept that same teasing smirk on your pretty little face. he draws a ragged breath, recovering after a few oh so very slow seconds, he licks his lips, placing an identical smile on his face. he wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you closer, he dips his head and your lips collide into a fiery kiss that burned brighter every second they spend deep in each other's hot kiss, limbs tangled.

he breaks your kiss, a grin on his lips still swollen from your kiss, "you better dress up y/n, you wouldn't want them to catch us fucking in the studio." he still had a hand wrapped around your body, the other tucking a strand of hair that obscured a full view of your features.

you roll your eyes and smacked his arms away playfully, getting back to being dressed. "if they caught us fucking, they'd make damn good money out of it." you snicker as you buttoned on your white blouse. his gaze never wavered from you the entire time and when you finish, he grabs your hand and spins you around like one would in a ballroom dance. your laughter rang in his ears like a melody.

"if you ask me for a drink on each 'wonderful' painting i create, you'd be buried in debts." he warns you. the warning he'd delivered thrown away in the wind after your statement, you looked at him, eyes shifting, darkening as he held you in his embrace. "well, i'd also be under your sheets. think of it as the pros and cons. and in this case--" you draw near, faces a centimeter away, "the cons outweigh the pros. but," you trail a finger across his jawline, "we don't care much about being reasonable, do we?"

something inside him snaps as a smile makes way onto his face, "no," another kiss, another action laced with lust and soft undertones of sweetness, "we don't care about it at all."

__________________

you flips him over so that you’re sitting on top of him. again, you’re only covered by far too thin cloth of the hotel blankets. he stared at you through it all, a habit, he was a painter after all. and you were an art he'd gladly look at for all hours of the day.

a lazy smirk, hands pressed lightly on his chest, tracing familiar lines of muscles with your fingers, "you went fancy tonight." you eye the floor to ceiling windows that seeped light into the dim room, the glass offering a breathtaking view of the glimmering city lights, blending with the cloudless dark sky scattered with stars.

"i sold two paintings yesterday to some wealthy perverted men." his voice was the equivalent of a shrug, "they gave me more than the price i was asking for." amusement curls his lips and she smiles, knowing that the words that would follow would set you to a bout of chuckles.

"for one condition; don't tell our wives that we're buying nude paintings of a younger woman." he says this in a deep, mocking voice that could belong to a bearded businessman in his forties. you throw your head back in laughter, "boys are idiots." you tell him after sobering up from his joke. he raises an eyebrow, looking at you.

"Keiji." you call him, voice soft and his painting comes to life before his very eyes as you becomes the teary eyed woman left on a canvas inside the studio. your eyes glittered with tears and he had the urge to wipe your tears away and remove the traces of sadness in those lovely orbs.

"f/n." you two never called each other by your first names, too casual, so easy to slip into each other's arms and pour your sorrows into each other. you smile again and it looked so bittersweet, you tried blinking back the tears but every time you opens her eyes it seems that more and more tears try and escape. "why are we here Keiji?"

"why are we doing this?" and the first tear fell from your eyes, trickling down your cheek and you shake your head as you see him lift his arms to wipe it away, "no. don't do that. it's getting harder Keiji. i can't keep doing this with you." you shake your head as you cried, tears cascading down your skin.

"i'm falling for you." your fist lands weakly against his chest, and he doesn't stop you, doesn't say anything. he moves, wraps his arms around you so that you both sit, limbs tangled in the darkness as your tears touch his skin as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"and what's wrong with that?" he pulled you closer like he always did, soothed you with gentle touches, "what's so wrong in loving you?" he had said the words so slowly, so sweetly intoxicating.

another sob escaped your lips, "no, don't say love." your tone seems like a plea and your voice cracked in the edges like a glass beginning to shatter.

don't say love because it feels so final, a declaration, words written in stone never to be taken back. you could still remember the time when you first met, back to a simpler past where this feeling had yet to bloom that scorching summer when you had found a job as a muse for his paintings. back to the first kiss you shared with each other, the same delicate kiss that sparked the affection. if you could turn back time, would you take back your offer, the invitation for a drink that started everything. that's how this started. is that how it ends too?

you look up, facing him, making his heart ache at the melancholy in your eyes, another beautiful smile twisted into sorrow "i'm not the person you fell in love with, Akaashi," you whispered, and you were right. you could see it in his canvas, see those identical features, the same and yet so different. the woman painted on paper had the innocence you had lost, the beauty fading day by day as the portrait stayed the same, portraying what you were once, who you'll never be again. Akaashi Keiji fell for the timeless art he'd made.

his hand trails the skin touched by tears he'd caused. steady breaths and gentle words as his fingers memorize your features, "i thought the same once," he never looks up, never sees your eyes filled with questions and brimming with tears, instead he traces your skin as if he was painting you, "i thought i only loved the art, the lines, the curves and the colors i've poured onto the page." a genuine laugh, untouched by the sadness that filled his eyes.

"i thought wrong."

his lips land softly on your forehead, sweeter, gentler than the other kisses you'd shared. filled with love, an emotion that felt so foreign, an emotion that broke the walls that you'd built around your heart in a fraction of a second.

"no, you're not as perfect as the girl i'd drawn." another fact, you lost your perfection the moment you ran away from home, searching for adventure in the bright world ahead, only finding darkness in the road you took, the path you willingly chose. he sends kisses down to your head, to your tear-stained cheeks, moving towards your nose, so gentle, like butterfly wings fluttering against your skin.

"you're not perfect." he tilts your head so that your eyes meet each other's, gazes locking into place, "you're flawed to the very core,” “, and i love you for that."

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craigdavidlong · 3 years

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Ixara

Around the time when you were making little drawings like that, you once invited me up to Ixara’s studio because you and he were hanging out and making art together. It was on the second floor of an old building on Hastings Street that had an iconic hand-painted blue sign that I used to always look for as I’d ride the bus into downtown from the suburbs. The sign said something vague like “The Space” — and though I somehow knew it meant it was artists’ studios, at the time I really had no clue what that meant went on inside.

When I got there I was nervous and feeling awkward about my own naïveté and spiralling in my introspection that I wasn’t cool enough to even be hanging out with you. Why you invited me, what you liked about me — I didn’t know. I had never met anyone like you, and it was probably my fascination with you that led us to becoming friends for a few good years. You wore thick black eyeliner and bright red lipstick and spoke with a subtle British accent that I’m still not totally convinced was real. You had big blue eyes and blunt bangs, and though your name was Angela, you went only by your last name. That’s how we all knew you.

Later on, during the brief period when you were a lesbian living in Montreal, before you got married (to a man) and had a baby, I wanted to send you a package in the mail, but I didn’t know how to address the envelope. First name, last name? First initial, last name? Last name, last name? I’m not sure what I landed on — I probably just jotted down the mononym, dropped it in the mail slot and prayed for the best.

Ixara also had a great name — but we never knew the story of what it meant or where it came from. Any questions about his upbringing were usually met with vague answers, if we got any at all. His last name, beautifully juxtaposed, might have been Scandinavian, though he was just as likely to tell you he was part crow or part raccoon.

Ixara was a sweet, genuine guy, goofy, lanky and crushingly handsome, a skateboarder with a glint in his eye who worked backstock in the clothing store where I was a shop boy. I had a crush on him and I’m sure he knew it — though I didn’t even know it myself. I used to think I envied the attention he got from all you girls, but as I recognize it now, I was actually envious of the attention you all got from him. He didn’t seem to mind my little closeted queerisms, either. I think I liked him for that.

Upstairs at the studio, I just sat there and watched you draw, and Ixara make whatever he was making. Ixara had that chill stoner vibe many of us West Coasters do, but he also operated on his own frequency; he could never really sit still for too long. He was always goofing off, pulling pranks — just how you’d imagine a vagrant skater kid who dropped out of high school.

By contrast, I was always the quiet, studious one. Studious in my observation of you all from the sideline, too. You asked me if I wanted to make anything, and I said no, I’m happy just watching, I don’t really know how to make art anyway. (That was a lie.) But you were kind enough to flip through the pages of your sketchbook and show me your drawings, saying you don’t really have to know what you’re doing, you just have to start doing it, and that eased my anxieties a bit.

Ixara’s attention shifted again and with a burst of energy he blurted out that he needed to go buy spray paint because he was planning to go out tagging that night or weekend. Ixara was the first person I ever knew who did graffiti, and I had never really considered where one goes to buy spray paint for these purposes before, either. So we walked with him to a nearby skate shop and while Ixara bantered with the owner and picked out his colours, I just stood there thinking about the wall of canisters that was locked behind cage doors, humoured that even the people who sold spray paint to graffiti artists had to worry about theft.

You stood outside smoking a cigarette.

That was one of the last times I saw Ixara, or heard from him, or really heard anything about him at all, for that matter. Once I caught a rumour that he had gotten arrested in the Interior during a bust at a grow-op where he had been working clipping buds for cash. Cannabis is legal now, and yet he’ll probably have that on his record forever. Ixara was one of those good kids who honestly just seemed to have an endless streak of bad luck.

There were lots of stories from those party days, though. So many of the people from the time all blur together now. As it were, we were all either drunk or high when we met and traded stories anyway — the memories now a fog as thick as the cigarette smoke in whatever dive bar back room we were singing Karaoke in.

There were stories of skaters I’d met in passing once or twice whose wealthy parents had sent them off to rehab for abusing drugs. There was one who was paralyzed in a tragic accident when he tried to pull a stunt by standing on top of a moving train he’d hopped on. There were guys who had reputations for charming the pants off of girls, then get so drunk and rowdy they’d push her around a bit or hit her and wake up on the beach not remembering any of it. I never really got to know these ones much beyond their reputations.

Ixara though, he shone through. Riding that bus home at dusk that night I clocked the tags all the way along Hastings back to Burnaby and Coquitlam and thought about all the kids who made them. I laughed about the thought of them buying their cans of spray paint, consumers shopping just like the rest of us, punked by the same old system — or else stealing it. Were any of the tags Ixara’s? I’ll never know. I never did find out what his tag looked like or what name he went by. If I did, I’d probably still be looking for it today — for some sign he’s out there and doing ok.

#process

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years

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Hell to Pay: Part Forty

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: hey how about that! there’s no trigger warnings to look out for in this chapter :’)

Amara leaned against the bedroom doorway where Nik was staying. “Good afternoon, sleeping beauty.”

Nik rolled over, squinting at her. “You’re still alive.”

“What, a few days of nothing but Cameron supposed to kill me?” Amara snorted, and flopped down on the bed beside him.

“The fact he hasn’t killed you in your sleep says something.”

“Says he needs someone to take care of before he turns into a literal skeleton, is all. But if I said that to him, he wouldn’t let me stay, now would he?” She plopped a bag beside Nik. “I brought you a gift, and it wasn’t a conversation about your alpha’s issues.”

“And what’s in the bag?”

Amara opened it. “All the supplies we’d need to cut and dye your hair back to it’s former glory. I even brought you plenty of colors to choose from if you want something new and funky.” Amara patted his head.

Nik wrinkled his nose at her. “Have you ever cut hair?”

“Yeah, sure I have.” Amara grinned. “Or I wouldn’t offer to cut yours, you peacock. This is how I know you’re related to Nate, you know.”

“If you’re suggesting Nate would let you cut his hair, he’d break your fingers,” Nik said.

“Oh, no.” Amara gave a laugh. “I’m saying you’re both vain.”

Nik had the balls to look offended at that. “Pot meet kettle,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all pretty little birds. Now get pick some colors so we can go make you look presentable again.”

Nik glared at her, but sat up and started to rifle through the bag. “Were you expecting to dye my hair rainbow? I’m not Nate.” He eventually settled on a deep emerald green. “Here. This.”

“Good choice.” Amara pushed at him. “Now to the bathroom we go. It’s time for aggressive bonding to make up for the not being friends for months.”

Nik grumbled at her as she bullied him into the bathroom. She fully expected it when he went for the window, pushing it open. Amara set up on the clippers and dye while he got settled, and then turned to Nik.

“Put your pretty butt on the toilet so I can get to clipping,” She said.

“Make me,” Nik said petulantly.

“I will shave your head,” she threatened, waving the clippers in his direction. Her threats were empty, and she was sure he’d know it, but what was friendship if not a little bit of consensual bullying?

“Shave my head, and I’ll drink all your booze,” Nik retorted.

“Don’t have any. Reneé dumped it before she moved out, and I didn’t buy any more. Find a scarier threat or sit down so I can make you pretty again.”

Nik squinted at her, but eventually plopped down on the toilet. She hummed, pleased, and went to work. It was nice, being close to Nik again, and she knew, while he was here at Nate’s, someone was keeping an eye on him. Not that Cameron wasn’t, but Cameron was grieving too, in his own way. That might be impossible for Cameron to admit, but Amara knew it was true.

Nik sat through the trimming and the bleaching and the dyeing silently. She was gentle, and let him have his silence, even though the whole process took hours. Once or twice Nate popped in, but Amara didn’t call him out on his fretting. Nate had every right to be worried, even if Nik was in very good hands.

Nate poked his head in as Amara was finishing up. She turned off the dryer, and turned Nik around. “Well?” Amara asked. “What do you think? I do good?”

Nate looked Nik over, and then said with a smile, “He looks great.”

“I always look great,” Nik muttered.

“Yeah,” Amara said, running her hands through Nik’s hair carefully. “You do.”

Nik pursed his lips. “Don’t flirt with me.”

“Oh, Nate can compliment you, but when I do, it’s flirting?” Amara scoffed. “You of all people should know the difference between my flirting and my flirting.” She thought about ruffling his hair, messing it up, but instead she stood and started cleaning up her mess. “I should probably go. Cameron’s probably not gonna be happy if I miss dinner.”

Nik shot her an amused look. “Are you going to start calling him daddy too?”

“No,” Amara said. “But someone needs to keep him on his schedule, or he’s useless to me.”

Nik looked down at the floor. She squeezed his shoulder.

“Hey. He’s doing fine. But i’m also not gonna risk getting kicked out tonight.” She turned to Nate. “Get him in some sun. I don’t wanna see a day where I’m more tan than he is.” As if that were possible, but she really did worry about him cooping up in bed too long.

---

It had been several days now that Ash couldn't keep anything in his stomach. The dark magic cast that had clearly been a failure, had been soaked into the earth and he had spent the entire time in a cold sweat and vomiting his guts up regularly. It was only now that his body gave him a break.

He went to find Nate, who was holed up in his art studio. "So, I'm not currently dying," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Wanna see if Lev's soul got shredded in that shitshow of a spell?"

Nate looked at him with a tired, irritated look, putting down his barely used paintbrush. “Tactful as always, Ash,” he sighed. “But, yes. If you’re up for it. I don’t want you dying on me. I’d rather not have another ghost haunting me. Especially you. Then I’d never get any sleep.”

Ash ignored that particular dig. “Then let’s get moving. The sooner we get any kind of confirmation, the sooner this ludacris business will be over with and I can move on with my pain-free life.”

Nate got up from his stool and moved to the center of the room to a paint splattered rug and sat cross legged. Ash watched from the doorway and he could taste the dark magic in the air- dark magic, but not… dark magic. Death was a shadowy world and Nate’s magic had the ability to snuff out life, even after death- to leave a soul nothing more than a forgotten memory.

Nate sucked in a sharp breath, eyes snapping open when he felt… something, a spirit ripped into space, nearly crashing into the floor.

“Well,” Ash said, “I’m guessing that answers that question.”

Nate reached over, taking ahold of the spirit, bringing it to a physical form. “Are you alright?” Nate asked, tiredly.

“What- happened?” Lev asked.

“Tried to bring you back to life,” Ash said. “It failed, dark magic made me sick for a week. Nik got his hair dyed, Cameron fainted because he didn’t eat for over a month. You know, normal things.”

Lev looked to Nate. “Is it supposed to hurt? Like this?”

Nate lifted his shoulder in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know,” he said, quietly. “Your soul just- disappeared. I was worried it got shredded.”

“How long was I gone?” Lev asked.

“A week,” Nate said.

“Spent the whole time vomiting, but you know. Like I just said. Besides, is your soul intact? Do you feel… something missing at all?”

“I feel whole… it just hurts. But it doesn’t.” Lev stopped, and gave a hysterical laugh. “Phantom pain.”

That got an unexpected snort out of Ash. “Okay, puns are my thing,” he said, feeling an uptick of a smile on his face. “But as long as your soul is intact, I see no reason why Amara would stop trying to bring you back.”

“She probably won’t,” Lev said, sounding very, very tired.

“Do you want to come back at all?” Nate asked, quietly. “If you don’t, I will make her stop.”

“What I want and what i should do are two different subjects,” Lev said, after a pause.

“Well,” Nate said, with that legendary patience. “I didn’t ask you what you should do. I asked you what you wanted to do.”

Stars, he could really tell Nate was Bay’s mate. They were both annoyingly similar sometimes.

Lev looked to him, looking very guilty. “I want it.”

“Well,” Ash said, rubbing his temples. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“I wish it didn’t hurt you,” Lev said. “It would make my decision a lot easier.”

“Don’t stop on my behalf,” Ash said, tiredly. “The others haven’t. You might as well join the majority.”

“What- Lev?”

Ash froze at that voice, cursing himself for not being able to hear Nik. He was too damned good at being able to move around like a shadow. Nik was staring at Lev, wide eyed. “What’s going on? And why am I never told a single fucking thing about it.”

Lev looked at Nate, a little stricken. “I’m not supposed to talk to him,” he said, almost a plea to not tell Bay; to not get in trouble with him.

“Yeah well,” Nik said, “Fuck what Bay says. He can get in line after you talk to me because everyone seems to get to talk to you except for me.”

“That would be because you’ve been a wasted train wreck who has been suicidal and nonstop drunk for the last four months while also taking heavy drugs, and oh yeah, overdosing on said drugs. So forgive me for not wanting to watch you have yet another emotional breakdown when your boyfriend must once again disappear into Ghost Land.”

“Ash,” Nate chastised.

Ash ignored him and kept his attention on Nik. “Be pissed all you want, but you know you would have gone even further off the deep end if we told you and you fucking know it.” When Nik looked moments from snapping back, Ash said, coolly, “Do not forget, I know when you’re lying.”

Lev gave such a quiet, “Ash please” that even he could barely hear.

Ash cut Lev a look. “Am I wrong?”

“No, but yelling isn’t going to make anything better.” Lev said. “It’s just hurting people.”

“Yes, hello,” Nik snapped. “You all seemed to have forgotten I am in this damned room and I am tired of everyone ignoring me and my wants. But hey, at least we’re all treading around me like I’m some delicate flower who needs their hand held. Lev. Talk to me.”

Lev slowly looked at him. “They didn’t tell me you dyed your hair green. It looks nice.”

“It’s queer coding for Nik is a train wreck,�� Ash replied. “However, yes. It does look nice.”

Nik smiled just a little bit. “Four months and the first thing you tell me is my hair looks nice? I always look nice.”

Well, that was a lie, but whatever.

“Yeah but it’s a new nice. I haven’t seen green streaks in your hair before,” Lev said, to Nik.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Nik said. “Almost went for orange but… i don’t want that clashing with my skin… and my aesthetic… can’t ruin it. Won’t do it.”

“I think you would look very nice with orange streaks,” Lev said, loyally.

“Oh I’m sure you would,” Nik said, his smile growing just a little bit more. “Cameron, however, would not think your opinions on the matter are valid, considering you wear jorts. So.”

Nate had winced at that. Clearly Nate was on the same fashion spectrum as Ash and Cameron seemed to be.

“You’re bullying me again,” Lev said, petulantly, returning Nik’s small smile.

“Mmm. Am I?” Lev laughed a lil at that. He looked happy. Nik looked a shadow of it, not quite, but not the void he was. Somewhere in the middle. Somewhere between dead and alive. “Did- are you alone? Just watching us?”

“I have company,” he said. “Nate talks to me. I’ve been trying to not hover so much. It seemed to make you agitated.”

Nik’s face fell, seeming to fold in on itself. His scent changed, soured almost. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice more echo than true words.

Lev looked so guilty. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “I needed the space to think anyway.” When Nik didn’t say anything, Lev added, “Coming back is… complicated.”

Nik began picking at his bracelets and seemed to struggle with what to say. Nate looked to Ash meaningfully, and Ash chose this particular time to once again paint himself as the bad guy. “Alright,” he said, pushing off the doorframe. “I think visitation time is over. Lev tell your boyfriend goodbye.”

“Are you okay with that?” Lev asked Nik.

Nik’s breath was too shallow, and Ash didn’t think Nik was going to answer at all. Especially when he was still picking at his bracelets. He could tell Nik’s blood pressure was rising and he was going to damn well fight an anxiety attack to keep himself in this room with Lev. “No,” Nik said, tightly.

“Lev,” Ash said, sharply.

Lev looked from him back to Nik. “If you need me, Nate can get me.”

Nik didn’t say anything, Ash wasn’t sure he was capable of saying anything. The only response Nik had was blinking hard, tears slipping down his cheeks. He wiped them away harshly and turned on his heel, pushing past Ash and disappearing down the hall.

“I fucked up again, didn’t I?” Lev said.

“No,” Ash said. “Nik. Is grieving. You didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t wait for anything else from either Nate or Lev before disappearing after Nik. He found Nik in the kitchen and grabbed his arm before he tried looking for what he always did. “You. Cannot. Drink.”

Nik whipped around and glared at him. “And why not?”

“Because I said so?” When Nik tried arguing with him, Ash said, “Alright. How about because your alpha said so and one step out of line means you don’t get to go home. Nik. Please. Let’s go outside. Beach, maybe?”

Nik’s face fell faintly, but it was enough Nik stopped fighting him on it. He wiped at his face again. “Fine. But you’re buying me lunch.”

“Fine,” Ash said, relieved.

“Wherever I want.”

“Deal.”

----

Sorin poked his head in Cyrus’ study. It was even more a wreck than before. Where it’s chaos had been confined to the desk, now books lay scattered on the floor, and Cyrus was sprawled over piles of notes.

For days Cyrus had been cooped up, going over his notes repeatedly. Sorin had barely been able to drag him to bed. He was about ready to do so again, now, but watching Cyrus work, brow furrowed in thought as he chewed on a ring absently, made Sorin pause.

“I’ve stayed up too late again, haven’t I?” Cyrus finally said, looking up.

“A bit.”

Cyrus hummed, and then went back to staring at his notes.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Sorin offered with a wheedling tone. “I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow if you go to bed soon. Like, now soon.”

“That seems rather unfair. I get up earlier, and I cook the oatmeal better.” Cyrus smiled down at his books. “You’re going to have to offer better if you want a deal.”

Sorin snorted, but before he could figure out what to offer, Cyrus snapped his head up. Before he could process it, Cyris jumped up and kissed Sorin, hard. “You angry ginger genius,” Cyrus said, ruffling Sorin’s curls.

“I’m confused,” Sorin said. “What did I do?”

“Well,” Cyrus corrected. “I’m the genus, but you brought the inspiration.” He wandered to the desk, and pulled out a piece of paper. He scribbled a quick, ‘I have the solution. Bring Amara, either tonight or tomorrow’, and sent the paper away with a flutter of magic. “We need a better deal.”

---

Cameron had allowed AMara access to the front seat, provided she keep her mouth shut. He had the windows up for once, faint music playing, but that didn’t seem to stop her from sitting ramrod stiff like Nik did, except she was holding onto the safety bar.

“Would you like me to roll down the windows?” he finally asked, mildly.

“Won’t do anything, it’ll be fine,” she said. “I trust you to not crash the car.”

He did not want to sit next to this halfway panicked omega while he drove. “If you trusted that, then you wouldn’t be holding on for dear life,” he said. “What do you normally do to stop acting neurotic?”

“My instincts don’t always line up with logic,” she said. “Normally I drink, but I can’t do that right now. This is why I drive a motorcycle.”

“You have been in this car several times,” Cameron said. “And against my will at that. What do you do then?”

“Talk to Nik.”

“Then call him,” Cameron said, in a bored tone, digging out his phone, unlocking it, and dropping it in her lap. “I trust you to know his number by now.”

Amara did as told and called Nik. “What are you doing?”

“Amara?” he heard Nik, say a little bewildered. “...Why do you have Cameron’s phone. Oh stars, tell me you didn’t actually kill him.”

Cameron rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t tell Cameron I didn’t like riding in cars in silence,” Amara said, “And he doesn’t like talking to me.”

“Don’t like your voice, either,” Cameron said. “We must all make sacrifices.”

“Okay, but Cameron doesn’t like anyone,” Nik pointed out, not able to hear Cameron’s response.

“Just tell me what you’re doing,” Amara told Nik. “Distract me.”

Nik was quiet on the other line, just for a few seconds before, “Ash promised me the ocean. And food. I’m fucking hungry and apparently I’ve barely eaten in the last few days.”

Cameron sighed irritably. Maybe he should have nailed it into Nate’s head to make sure he fed his idiot brother as well. This is what he got for assuming Nate had common sense.

“I’d say I’d come and join you after we’re done, but you know how much I hate the ocean.”

“Well I didn’t say you had to swim, Mar,” Nik said, sounding petulant. “And just Ash keeping me company is going to make me drown myself. He’s trying to mom me.”

“You need to be momed,” Amara said. “You’ve been a wreck.”

“Okay, then come play the role of mami if you’re going to be like that,” Nik said, with the smallest hint of a smile in his tone. “Otherwise I’m going to slip the leash again.”

“I need you to hang in there,” Amara said. “I’ll be around more soon, I promise. I’m sure there’s something fun we can do that doesn’t involve alcohol.”

He heard Nik groan loudly at the other end of the line. “How soon,” he asked. “I’m all twitchy and you’re the only person i fucking know who doesn’t bother lying to me.”

“After I’m done with my field trip with Cameron, I’ll come over,” Amara said. She paused before adding, “Unless something dramatic comes up. Everything seems drama lately.”

“Fine,” Nik said. “We’ll be at the beach. Don’t forget sunscreen for your delicate skin. If you forget, we already brought some for Ash.”

“I’m offended,” Amara said. “My side of the family doesn’t burn. Well. Reneé does, but that’s because she’s a ginger.”

He could hear Ash scoff in the background.

“Mhmm,” Nik said. “I’m sure.”

They came up to the house settled in the woods. “We’re here. Tell Nikolas goodbye, Amara.”

“I gotta go Saint Nikolas,” Amara said. “Stay out of trouble and I’ll let you punch me for calling you that.”

Nik retorted something, but it was cut off as Cameron took the phone from her. “Behave,” Cameron said. “I’ll stop by later.” And with that he hung up and got out of the car.

He didn’t bother waiting for Amara to catch up with him before walking into the house and going straight to the study where Cyrus was waiting. “You summoned me?” Cameron asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“We didn’t offer anything in exchange.”

“Consider me shocked,” Cameron said. “Did you have something in mind? I’m sure Death doesn’t take monetary payment.”

“I figure it’s fair to give Death a life for a life,” Cyrus said. “Kill the man who killed him.”

“That would be my brother,” Cameron said.

“Well it’s not like Cameron’s going to do it,” Amara said. “When do you need him?”

When Cameron didn’t offer any input, Cyrus said, “I need to come with you. So I’d rather we wait until tomorrow, at the very least. I need to contain his soul so we can use it in the spell.”

“Anything else?” Cameron asked, mildly.

“Are you feeling up to helping me cast the spell?”

“I said I would,” Cameron clipped out.

“I didn’t ask if you would, I asked if you could.” Cyrus said. “I won’t do it unless you’re healthy enough to.”

“Well here I am,” Cameron said. “The picture of health. Anything else?”

“Is there anything we need to change about the spell? Setting wise? Process wise? Is there anyone else that needs to be present?”

“It will be done at my house,” Cameron said. “Nik will not be there. Neither will Nate or Amara, They’re both going to keep Nik away from here. Ash will be there to make sure his body is functioning, as neither you nor Sorin are healers, and Sazra is a demonic healer and Lev’s body will likely be too delicate to withstand demonic healing. Anything else you need to know?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Let me know when you guys plan on killing Destris so I can join you.”

Cameron picked at a nail, but nodded and turned on his heel and went to the car. He heard Amara behind him, and before she could start on her tirade, he said, “Backseat.”

“You’re not even going to discuss what I, a full grown adult, am going to do? I don’t mind keeping an eye on Nik, but you didn’t even ask.”

“No, I am not,” Cameron said, stopping at his car and looking her squarely in the eye. “As you keep reminding me, I am Lev’s alpha. You are not. Cyrus contacted me, and not you, making this my problem, and not yours. And since this will be done at my house, with my omega, you are going to listen to me, and if you do not, I will physically restrain you and keep you from stepping foot near me, Nik or Lev until everything is well done and finished. Understand?”

When she did not respond to him, Cameron got into the driver's seat and waited for her to obey him and get in the back. Only when she did, did he hear her mutter under her breath about this being her idea. Might have been her idea, but as soon as she opened her mouth, and her idea fai9led the first round, Cameron was taking it into his hands and not leaving this in the hands of an impulsive child who can babysit Nik for him while he made sure this went smoothly. “I will not be with you when you kill Destris,” Cameron said, pulling the car out onto the road. “And when you watch Nik, do not let him drink. Ash is very insistent on it.”

“I know.”

“You will call me when it is done,” Cameron said, flicking her a look through the mirror. “And I will make the necessary arrangements. I trust you can kill a demon without someone holding your hand.”

“Destris would be dead within twenty-four hours,” she said. “Do you want proof?”

Cameron thought about that for a few minutes, quiet and not saying anything. “No,” he said, “I do not.”

---

Nik laid out on the sand, eyes closed while he took in the sun, the sounds of the ocean and the people around him. Even with the beach swarmed, and with Ash next to him, he still felt eerily alone. And almost like the perfect timing did his phone buzz with a text from Amara.

Mar: Hey, a job came up, but if you still need me, I’ll come

Nik thought about it. However, he had the feeling if she did show up, her brain would be elsewhere and it wouldn’t even be like she was there to begin with. Might as well let her get on her way so she could pretend like she was actually there.

Nik: It’s fine. Do your thing

He put his phone back down and folded his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes. He felt Ash sit down next to him. “Do you want to swim?”

Nik was silent for a few moments. “No, I don’t think I want to. Just sit here and not think for a while.”

Ash settled in the sand next to him and Nik looked over, raking his eyes over Ash’s frame. “You going to put on that sunscreen so your pale ass doesn’t fry?”

Ash cut him a glare, and made a point about how he settled with his eyes closed. “I’ll heal. Still want to get something to eat afterwards?”

“Yeah,” Nik said. “Withdrawal has been a pain in my ass so I’m trying to get something in my stomach.”

“Probably wise,” Ash hummed, slipping his fingers in Nik’s hair, pulling it out of his closed eyes. “Anywhere you’re wanting to go in particular?”

“Guelaguetza, I think,” Nik said. “Miss being able to taste my food.”

“Whatever you want,” Ash said.

“You’re being suspiciously accommodating,” Nik observed, sneaking a peek at him.

Ash twitched his mouth to the side, looking a little amused. “Well, I did say you could choose. And since you’re not being a pain in my ass at this particular moment of time, I thought I would give you a treat for behaving.”

“Hmmm. Fine.”

“Mhmm,” Ash said, settling back down in the sand with a heavy sigh. “Fine indeed.”

----

The restaurant was full of color and food and sounds. Nik seemed pleased to be here, even if they did have a rather long wait. Nik seemed happy enough and that was worth the time spent waiting for a table. The happy chatter around them was filled with laughter and the lovely waitress brought menus for both Nik and Ash.

He had Nik order his food for him since Ash had no idea what to get, but Nik seemed to know exactly what he would want. Nik traced lines into the brightly colored floral print decorating the tables, humming a song Ash didn’t know under his breath. It had been- quite some time since he heard anything like that from Nik.

Their food was brought out to them and Nik happily started digging into his food. Ash started on his own, and he was surprised there was only a faint burn in his mouth. Nik gave him an amused, dry look. “I got the mild. Just for you.”

“I’m touched,” Ash deadpanned.

“Anything for you, vato,” Nik said, with a sickening sweetness.

Ash rolled his eyes, but watched him carefully while Nik ate. After a few minutes, Nik closed his eyes, looking away from his food. “You alright?” Ash asked, mildly, taking a bite from his food.

“I think I ate too much, too fast,” Nik said, pushing his plate back just a bit. He seemed to wait, to see if his stomach would settle, but then abruptly got up and disappeared to the back.

A waitress seemed concerned and asked Ash if his friend was okay; if there was something wrong with the food.

“No,” Ash said. “It’s perfect. He’s just not feeling himself.”

She smiled at him, tan face bright and dark eyes sparkling. “I hope he feels well soon.”

Ash had the feeling Nik would not be feeling well any time soon, but he still offered her the same smile in return. “I hope so, too.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: ash #ch: nik #ch: Nate

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menii · 4 years

Note

Hey, menii, love ur content. Just wanted to ask, do u have any advice for me, I want to start out on digital, I always did physical, but now I want to try out something different. Any pointers u could give me.

aww thank you! I just want to say I’m not the greatest at giving art advice or advice in general but I’ll give it a shot!

The main hurtle of drawing digital is learning a paint software. Which thankfully now we have youtube so looking up how to do something with any program is much easier.

I currently use Clip Studio Paint which has 50% sales of the program so I’d wait until then if you decide to buy it. A program I started with is Paint tool Sai which is very user friendly and pretty to easy for beginners to use.

Next thing you’d probably want to look into is buying a tablet. When I started out I used a small cheap wacom ctl460 bamboo pen tablet(I would of course look into newer models if I where you) . So don’t feel the need to go for a cintiq for when your first starting out. Starting out with a simple tablet so you can learn the program and the feeling difference that comes with switching mediums is better. Having a fancy tablet won’t make you a better artist it’s just kind of nice to have but not necessary.

But if money is no problem I do recommend getting a ipad pro and pro pencil. Since it’s something you can take anywhere (great for getting practice) and it’s also got some great paint programs as well (once again I would recommend Clip paint)

I hope I was of some help <3

#samgleesonart

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lilacmiracle · 4 years

Text

The Terrifying Case of Iplier Manor - Chapter 1

Beta read by @mysterio-is-the-truth

Fandoms: Markiplier, Buzzfeed Unsolved

Note: Quotation marks are Ryan narrating, bold is Shane speaking, italics are Ryan speaking, both bold and italics is the psychic, both bold and italics and in all caps is the spirit box

(AO3) Words: 4,356

The video opens on a series of clips that are presumably filmed later in the episode. The first clip shows Ryan in front of a broken mirror while looking over at Shane, asking, breathlessly, “What the fuck?” The second clip shows Ryan, still in front of the broken mirror, with a bottle of what is presumably holy water. He sprays it at Shane. The third and final clip shows Ryan, Shane, and a new person, all in a different room, this one with a wood fireplace, with a flashlight that has been brightly turned on. The flashlight switches off, and Ryan screams very loudly.

The video then cuts to the intro for most ‘Supernatural’ episodes, with the building in the background being a version of the Manor, rendered in a 2-Dimensional style.

The video then cuts to Ryan and Shane standing in front of the double doors to the Manor, with Ryan on the right and Shane on the left.

“We are here at Iplier Manor, site of the Warfstache Disappearances, for this season’s finale and my one demon sacrifice for this season.”

I’m really fucking scared, man. I -- I don’t wanna do this.

It’s fiiiiiine. I mean, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen? Spooky lawyer ghosts?

We could die! We could disappear like those other people!

Only if the Colonel comes.

“This house, if it is, in fact, inhabited by a demon, is by far the most dangerous location that we have ever investigated. As such, we have brought in a psychic to help us in our investigation.”

The new person from the third clip steps into frame. She appears to be an older woman with short, gray hair and loose clothes. She is wearing loose necklaces and an abundance of bracelets that hang off of her wrists.

Hello, my name is Lily, and I am here to help these two with their investigation on this Manor right here.

With that, the Ghoul Boys™ and Lily head inside of the Manor.

I have a Bible and my holy water.

You’re gonna be fine, Ryan.

I sure hope so.

“This episode is going to be rather out of the ordinary with regards to our other demon investigations, considering the fact that we have already covered the history of this house in our last True Crime episode. However, there are a few odd occurrences inside of these walls that were not covered in that video.”

The video cuts to black, fading into a black-and-white image of Mark Iplier. Ryan’s narration continues.

“This Manor has a long history of misery, being the place of many a divorce and untimely death, all of which were ruled to be by natural causes. Things start getting weird when the actor Mark Iplier buys the house for himself and his new wife, Celine Iplier, in early 1913. Investigators found a diary that is believed to have been owned by Celine Iplier. The entries in this diary paint a terrible picture -- Mark was being twisted into the form of a monster, wrote one entry.”

The image on the video had shifted into an image of Celine when Ryan mentioned her. Now, it shows an image of aged paper, with a message written in practiced cursive. A female voice begins to read:

“Friday, February 20, 1914,

This house has become more and more oppressive. I sense darkness within it, and I think that Mark does as well. I am concerned, for if he feels what I can -- he is not trained in anything beyond our world, he has no access to what is past our mortal realm. For the house to make itself known, even to him, is a sign of something terrible.

I can feel him changing, shifting; he has been ever since he bought this place. Hell, he changed the moment he set foot through those damned doors. I don’t know what the house is twisting him into -- I just know that I won’t like the end result.”

There is a sound effect of the turning of a page, and the image onscreen is replaced by a new one -- another aged piece of paper, the same perfect penmanship, a different message that’s somehow even more ominous. The same voice begins to read:

“Wednesday, August 5, 1914,

Mark hasn’t gotten a job in months. He quit the studio in June, and he keeps telling me that he’ll try for a job with another. He’s not going to, and I don’t have to be psychic to see that. He keeps wasting away in his office, today is no different. He keeps going to the wine cellar, but whenever I go, no wine is missing.

I don’t know what he’s doing. Mark’s beginning to scare me -- he fired our butler. Again. He wouldn’t have done that two years ago. This Mark isn’t the one I married two years ago, either.

This house is twisting him, and I fear the image that he is being molded to. My concerns aren’t being listened to, either -- everyone’s saying it’s the stress of the War. That’s not it, wars don’t make men stay away from their wives for weeks at a time. Wars don’t make men fire staff member after staff member, or buy car after car, while doing nothing at all with the luxuries that they’ve bought. Wars don’t change men like Mark has changed.

I want my husband back. And I want this fucking house burned to the ground.”

Another page turn, another piece of paper. It’s still old, and still covered in Celine’s perfect handwriting. A new message is upon it.

“Friday, May 14, 1915,

Mark is dead, and whatever’s walking around in his body isn’t him. I’ve mourned and made my peace with that. The thing wearing his face is a selfish and awful monster.

It still hosts parties like Mark did -- the same poker nights that are always won by (the writing is redacted. Written over it, in white, is “The District Attorney,” despite the fact that the person that it must be referring to won’t even be the DA for another 5 years), the same cocktail parties for the sole purpose of social climbing. Those parties are the same as before, which is almost insulting. The only difference is that Mark, our friends and I used to make fun of the pompous jerks, afterward. Now he sends them home with everyone else. He never speaks to me, either.

Parties are the only times I see my brother anymore. I miss Damien, almost more than I miss Mark. But I know that Damien is within reach. I know that I can worm my way past the monster, if only for a few hours. But Mark is too far gone to even be contacted through the beyond. I fear that I will never see him again, even after I die. That almost scares me more than the monster.”

Another entry.

“Saturday, October 7, 1916,

William returned yesterday. He says to call him Colonel now, but I don’t think I ever will. It’s too impersonal, and it glorifies the War far too much. The War cost William his leg, and too many others their lives.

Will may be my only escape from the monster. He hasn’t let me leave this house in months, not even to see Damien. There’s a poker night on Tuesday, the 10th. I know that William will be there, and I know that the layout of the house will disorient him. When he gets lost in the house, I can find him. He’ll be away from ‘Mark,’ far enough away that I can convince him to run away with me. I know that he will, I know that he still loves me, even after our breakup, and even after my wedding.

I only have one chance to escape. William is my last hope, and if I fail, my fate will be at the hands of the monster.

At times like this, I think of my husband. My real husband. I miss Mark dearly, but I know that I could never bear to look at him if he came back. His image has been far too tainted by the thing that is wearing his face.

This will be my final entry. I am hiding this diary in the hopes that it may one day be found by those who may purchase this accursed Manor. Know that if I have mysteriously died or disappeared, it was caused by something taking the form of Mark Iplier.

Know that this Manor isn’t safe.”

Well that was something.

That was an adventure. We’ve got body snatchers, we’ve got cursed houses, we’ve got reclusive husbands. Hell, this would make a great book!

(wheeze)

“These diary entries tell the horrifying tale of Celine Iplier, who was terrorized by the demon within this very Manor. It took the form of her husband, Mark Iplier, whom she was later able to divorce. She regained her maiden name, which has now been lost, along with many other names of those present at the party almost exactly four years later.”

What’s weird -- and I mean it’s really fucking weird -- is she did still disappear mysteriously. With whatever made itself look like her ex-husband.

That is weird, yeah, but it’s also four years later. I think it’s a coincidence.

But it’s four years to the day!

Coincidence. Although -- this does paint Warfstache in a whole new light.

It does, actually. He’s the hero now!

Good for him.

“Speaking of Warfstache, we are now going to be entering the room that matched the location of his supposed ‘séance room.’ When it was investigated, there was no evidence of anything supernatural at all, though it doesn’t hurt to look.”

The crew enters the room, which is set up with a table in the center. Around it are three chairs, presumably meant for Shane, Ryan, and Lily. There are three lit candles sitting on the center of the table.

We are going to be performing a séance in this room, the one where Damien and Celine allegedly disappeared. We will be attempting to contact their departed spirits, in the hopes that they will be able to give us answers as to the events that transpired in this house.

Shane, Ryan, and Lily all sit at the table. They join hands around the table, encircling it.

Close your eyes, everyone.

Shane, Ryan, and Lily all close their eyes.

We are reaching out to one or both of the twins Damien and Celine, who disappeared in this house in the year 1920. If either of you are present, please send us a sign.

Nothing happens for a moment. The room is silent, the only light coming from the flames of the candles.

Lily visibly shudders.

Something is here. I do not know who, or what, it is. Ryan, if you could ask your first question?

Yes. Are you Damien or Celine?

I -- I just felt a “No.” In my head. I don’t think that it’s either of them.

Are you, or were you, human?

Another “No.”

Are you a demon?

Lily breathes deeply, as if steeling herself.

“Yes.”

Ryan visibly tenses. Shane continues his questioning.

Are you the demon that looked like the actor guy?

Lily becomes unnaturally still for a moment, as if she’s listening to something that nobody else can hear.

It -- it says that it never looked like him. It never possessed him. It just ... spoke to him. Are you intending to harm anyone in this circle tonight?

Silence. The video cuts ahead, almost imperceptibly, as everyone is still in the same position as before.

Fifteen minutes have passed with no answer. The demon has ended the séance.

Lily opens her eyes and releases Shane and Ryan’s hands. The others follow suit.

I’m really freaking out now.

You’ve got your holy water, man. And your Bible.

I -- yeah. I have holy water and I’m not afraid to use it.

You think it was telling the truth? About not possessing the guy?

Are you actually admitting that a real demon was talking to us?

I’m not admitting anything. I’m invested in the story, though.

The story.

Yeah, the story. Was the guy possessed like the wife says, or did he just become a total douche? Fame can do that to people, you know.

You didn’t need fame for that, you dick.

Shush, you.

“After the séance, we’re going to be walking around the Manor so that Lily can get a general sense of the place and if there’s anything that she can pick up on that we haven’t.”

I would just like to say, before we leave this room -- I can feel something here. Unrelated to the recent séance.

Ryan hesitates, then says,

Please elaborate.

Something ... bad ... happened here. In this room. I sense feelings of confusion, betrayal, loss ... regret. I -- hang on.

She moves to another area of the room, closing in on herself.

Something terrible happened, right in this spot. Somebody died right here. The thing is, though, I can usually sense if it’s a masculine or a feminine presence. I can definitively say that there was at least one masculine presence, the one that died in this spot. But the other ... seems to alternate between the two. And not in a natural way, either; it feels like a woman was possessed by something male. These ‘presences’ aren’t here right now, though, Ryan, you can relax.

Ryan had tensed up, but now he relaxed slightly after Lily told him to.

These are ... echoes of people that were here, ones that went through something awful. These echoes feel very similar to each other, at least, the masculine one and the feminine part of the other. I think that Damien and Celine did die here. I can also sense that they are still wandering this plane, still stuck roaming the mortal realm ... but they left this Manor long ago. We won’t see any of them tonight.

With that, she exits the room, beckoning for Shane and Ryan to follow.

“Our first stop is by an object that most paranormal investigators have agreed is one of the most active places in this Manor.”

The crew stops near a broken mirror on the first floor of the building. There is a large hole just to the left of the center of the mirror.

There is a lot of energy here. You boys might like to use your ‘Spirit Box’ here later. I can feel ... quite a lot, a lot of people, a lot of emotion, right here. I can feel an echo of a man, just over there.

She points to an area just past the mirror, towards what appears to be a room with large double doors leading outside. They are covered by curtains, and made almost completely of glass.

There is a sense of ... pity. Towards him, from someone over here. This mirror feels ... empty. Not empty as in ‘there’s nothing there,’ but empty as in apathetic. Someone fought desperately, kicked and screamed and did everything in their power to get someone, anyone, to help them ... but nobody came. So, they slowly gave up. The fight drained until they finally realized that nobody would, or even could, save them. Now they’re trapped in the eternal hell of the mirror, abandoned by those they thought to be friends. I ... don’t know where that came from, I’m sorry.

Don’t be.

Well, I can tell you that the presence in the mirror was human, but now they’re a spirit. Neither a masculine nor feminine presence, but I think that that discrepancy is a natural one. I can also feel ... something familiar, similar to the room we were in a few minutes ago.

The séance room?

Yes. It is only an echo, but it feels ... powerful. Very, very powerful. And ... angry. On a quest for revenge, hoping to right the wrongs done unto it. Them. It feels like multiple people in one echo, which ... I don’t like that. But ... that echo held the souls of Damien and Celine, but ... not. It was them, but broken. Only bits and pieces of their souls were pieced together into this ... amalgamation. I just ... I really don’t like the energy over here anymore. May we go on?

Of course.

Shane and Ryan hang back a bit.

That was intense. Maybe it possessed her? A bit? Or the thing in the mirror was lonely, and went kind of overboard in expressing itself. Maybe?

We can ask it with the Spirit Box later. Of course, I would not be at all opposed if you didn’t want to.

Why? You scared, Shane?

It’s loud and annoying and, frankly, if I don’t have to hear it then I wouldn’t mind at all.

Yeah, it is kind of loud and annoying.

Thank you.

But we’re still doing it.

*sigh*

The video cuts to the crew walking around various hallways and into various rooms. A few occasional creaks and thumps can be heard, but they’re all easily explainable as the house settling. It is uneventful, until Lily suddenly stops at the top of a balcony on the second floor. Shane and Ryan turn around to see her grasping at the rail with a white-knuckled grip, her eyes squeezed shut.

I ... someone died here. Someones, actually. Two people died in this general area.

Can you tell us if you have any idea of who?

Yes. I need a moment, though.

She walks back to a window that she had passed a moment ago. She kneels below it, her head bowed. She stands again.

I can feel it. A man died right here, very suddenly. I would say that I smell gunpowder, but I don’t smell it, I only sense it. This man wanted justice, he wanted answers for ... I’m sorry. I don’t know.

That’s alright. Can you give any more insight as to who he was?

Yes. Something about him is very ... fixed. He stuck to what he knew, and what he was familiar with. He always had a partner, even though none of them lived to tell the tale.

The Detective.

That seems to make sense, considering everything that I’m getting from him. I think his name was ... “Abe.”

Thank you. Now, can you tell us anything about the other death?

Yes. It was over here, I believe.

She walks back to the balcony, gripping the rail. She never looks over the edge, instead staring into the camera.

It was just as sudden as Abe’s. A gunshot. They were trying to help their partner, though they didn’t blame the culprit. Everyone was high-strung at the time, and the Detective was ‘poking the bear,’ at least, that’s what I’m getting from them.

Their partner ... this must be where the District Attorney died.

This feels eerily similar to the spirit in the mirror.

One could hear a pin drop, with how silent it got. After a moment, Lily continued.

They were shot, and then they fell over this balcony right here, all the way to the ground below.

Lily looks over the railing, gripping it with both hands. Her knuckles are white, when suddenly she reaches out, screaming,

IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR!

It echoes in the hall for a moment. Everyone, even Shane, stands there in stunned silence. Lily retracts her hand, resting both gently upon the railing. She looks down. Her eyes are closed. She murmurs, softly, almost to herself,

It’s not fair, is it?

Lily shudders and looks up and around, coming back to herself. She folds her arms tightly across her chest and breezes past the camera, murmuring,

I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll be in the last room.

The video shows Shane and Ryan looking at each other in confusion and concern. The video shows the crew chasing after her for a bit, then cutting to a room with a couch and a fireplace, with a hardwood floor. It is the room that was shown in one of the clips that was played at the beginning of the video, the clip with the flashlights. Lily is there, with Shane and Ryan. Lily is standing in front of the fireplace.

Are you sure that you want to do this?

Yes, I’m sure. The flashlights will provide a mode of communication, so nothing will have to use me. This will actually be the safest thing that we have done thus far -- provided, of course, that we continue to adhere to the rules of proper conduct.

What are those? We haven’t heard of any kind of rules, except for not to directly incite anything to speak.

No, that’s not what I meant. You received general advice, of the kind that could be used in contact with any run-of-the-mill demon. This one, however, requires a bit of ... decorum. Most powerful demons are like that, and this Entity is no exception.

What are these rules, exactly?

You don’t need to worry, I’ll let you know if you come close to breaking any. Just continue as you were.

Okay, well, if you’re sure ...

“We are currently sitting in the room that contained the makeshift crime scene, that was supposed to belong to Mark Iplier. The area that the body supposedly occupied was in front of that fireplace right there -” he gestured over to the fireplace “- and it is also here that he reportedly died. Once again, this was covered in our True Crime video, however, there are a few supernatural elements that we neglected to mention. Specifically, Warfstache’s reports of the body having disappeared less than 24 hours after it was discovered.”

The “poof” strikes again.

(uneasy laughter)

“There is no evidence to suggest that this body was moved through supernatural means, in fact, there is also no real evidence to suggest that a body was even here in the first place. The crude shape of a body lying on the ground was constructed of white tape, however, it was not likely that it was constructed by actual authorities, given that no records definitively place a body in this spot.”

Not to mention that the tape structure had a dick on it.

Wait, really? Like, the real outline had a dick?

Yep.

(disbelieving laughter)

“Additionally, many tests have been performed in this area to determine whether any bodily fluids, fingerprints, or any kind of remnant of a human body was present in this area. All that was found was half of a thumbprint, which could not be identified.”

The thumbprint was in the general area of where the thumb would have been, judging from the tape, but that’s not enough conclusive evidence to say, “yes, Mark Iplier did die here.”

It could’ve been any thumbprint, from anyone who was making the tape thing.

Yeah. Personally, I think that it was Iplier’s, but some may not exactly be inclined to believe that.

Lily takes the end of Ryan’s narration as her cue to begin investigating the room for an echo or a presence of any kind.

There was death here, but ... I do not sense any emotion from the victim. That’s ... very odd.

The “victim?” So the person that died here, were they mur-

NO!!!

Ryan and Shane glance at each other in shock.

Don’t say that word. It’s a rule for this demon.

Ryan gives a shaky exhale.

Thanks.

But to answer your question ... yes. The victim was ... killed by someone else.

Do you have any idea who?

I ... barely. He seems very similar to the man I sensed earlier, the one who was pitied by something near the mirror. I know it isn’t much, but ...

Thanks anyway, Lily. Now, let’s get into Shane’s favorite part ...

It’s flashlight time!

A flashlight is set up as usual, with the setting almost hovering between on and off. It’s currently on, but it would be very easy to turn off completely.

Okay, my first question: is anyone or anything with us right now? Please turn the flashlight off if you are willing to communicate.

The flashlight doesn’t change for a bit. Then, slowly, it dims and turns off. Ryan tenses up immediately, while Shane hardly reacts.

For the record ... this does feel very similar to the demon from earlier.

If you’re a demon, turn it back on!

The flashlight turns on almost immediately. It is shining rather brightly, brighter than before. Ryan shrinks back a bit. Shane, however, is laughing.

Turn it off ... if you’re gonna kill us!

The light turns off, and Ryan screams. Shane laughs at Ryan’s reaction.

Okay, demon, just one more question before Ryan starts talking ... turn the flashlight back on if you’re gonna disappear us like those other guys.

The camera focuses on the flashlight for a few minutes, but it remains off.

Wow, we’re not even gonna be a mystery? You’re just gonna kill us and not even bother making it interesting? You have no taste.

Shane is shaking his head in mock disappointment as Ryan laughs uneasily.

I am gonna be slaughtered in cold blood, and when I do I want it to be a goddamned mystery! I wanna be on Buzzfeed Unsolved! Fuck you!

Ryan is laughing louder now, and is beginning to relax.

Okay, uh, let’s get down to business. Did you kill the inhabitants of this Manor in October of 1920?

The flashlight remains off, immobile.

I think I scared him off.

Try one more question, Ryan?

Okay. Did you enable, or help along in any way, the deaths of the inhabitants of this Manor in October 1920?

The flashlight remains off for a moment. Then, slowly, it dimly turns itself on. Ryan jumps, but doesn’t freak out as badly as before.

I ... I think that we’re done with the flashlights tonight.

Awww!

Shane pouts, while Ryan grabs the flashlight and turns it off. Lily stands, and nods at Ryan and Shane.

It seems that it is time to make my leave. Goodbye, you two.

Lily begins to walk away, as Ryan and Shane wave a short goodbye. Then as soon as she is about to leave the room, she stops and turns back.

Good luck. You’ll need it.

Then, she walks out of frame.

Tags: @lildevyl @ghostly-quest @turtlecrow @sandinthetardis

#markiplier #wkm #The Terrifying Case of Iplier Manor #The Terrifying Case of Iplier Manor - Chapter 1 #bfu #buzzfeed unsolved #wkm fic #ryan bergara #shane madej #Damien #Celine #wkm the seer #wkm the mayor #wkm the detective #wkm the colonel #wkm the actor #wkm the DA

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