#found this while clip-searching for my last edit post

[sallymew4]

he is practicing his shapes. leave him alone

[beccasissy69]

Something approaching normal blogging service will be resumed in the not too distant future but today Goddess wants me to write about two specific training sessions I've had.

January was a lot of control and bondage to begin with and then starting last week it began to morph into a more masculine focus. It has been super intense and at times, it has felt almost like I'm drowning in my arousal. Every time it seems like I land at the bottom, my perception twists and I just see more depth beneath me.

My past week or so had built up to these two sessions, first up on Sunday I was watching chubby older guys jerking off, ideally they would have a "smaller" c*ck but that wasn't essential.

As I watched I was stimulating my 🍑 to match the action and I was to lust after his c*ck, his thighs, his tummy, his balls and so on. I got my trusty glass dildo and started looking for videos. It took a while to start finding suitable ones because "men masturbating" videos or variations of that search bring up a lot of sub 1 minute long clips and that's barely enough time to get warmed up!

Once I found a couple of likely ones, it became easier because I could skip to the end and find what it recommended next, which would be more of the same kind and after lining up about an hours worth of clips I got to it.

The second or third video was when it really started to click and I flipped from "forcing" myself to lust after what I was watching to it just feeling completely natural. I even started skipping some videos because the guy wasn't really chubby or they had a large 🍆.

I went just over an hour and about halfway through, I was completely enthralled. I took a picture of one of the guys (I'd post it here but it wouldn't get past the Tumblr moderation 😆), he had rolls of fat on his belly and flabby thighs, a tiny c*ck and his balls kind of merged with that whole area. As I was watching him masturbate and moan, his belly and thighs were jiggling as he stroked and I was aroused beyond all description. I was so turned on I was struggling to see straight and I was feeling things 😅.

I said to Goddess afterwards that the whole session had kind of messed me up because my reaction, both what and how deep it was, was just so unexpected...even from what I'd thought right before I'd started.

The last night's session pretty much destroyed me. Goddess sent me a link to a video and gave me my instructions. They pretty much meant I'd be f*cking myself with a dildo for the whole length and using my mouth in parts too.

I had a look at the video so I knew how much time to set aside and it was a 90 minutes sissy hypno/training video and I was melting from the preview images it had!

I started early and it took a few minutes to get set up, lube everything, insert things and so on and then I started the video. It turned out that it was a number of videos by the same creator edited together into one glorious whole and it was incredible.

Apart from a brief break about half way through to get a drink I didn't really stop and by the end I was a physical and emotional wreck. I'd been f*cking myself with a dildo for 90 minutes, after it took a couple few minutes before i could stand and I had leaked so much! The video was focused on c*ck, cum, submission...the usual themes but it was really well done and editing different videos together meant that every 7-10 minutes it would move from BBC to creampies and then to humilation and on and on.

I was fully engaged in both of these sessions but one of them was much more active, I was lusting after the guy on screen in the first one but yesterday I was much more passive and submissive. I just had to follow my instructions and let the video play. It used a lot of split screens, flashing and quick cut images and it really felt like it was breaking part of me down and going deeper and deeper.

A lot of it just washed over me but the last segment has stuck in my head, probably because it was paced a little slower and felt like a cool down from the rest of the video. The screen was split in three with a different guy stroking a large 🍆 in each as a domme did a relatively gentle "forced" bi, man/c*ck worship audio and every little while, one of the guys would be changed for another.

There was about 10 minutes of the video left and I was a mess at that point, it was like she was talking directly to me and it was going straight to my core. I was slowly bouncing on my dildo (a pretty big BBC one), my mouth was full and I was panting around the 🍆. I'd been on the edge of a sissygasm a few times and pulled back, or the video pacing changed and my arousal had dipped a little, and I felt like emotionally I'd been torn down and stripped totally bare.

I was completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of c*ck and c*m and men, it had been absolutely relentless for well over an hour and my "resistance" had simply melted from a massive overdose of masculinity.

[aion-rsa]

Better Call Saul Confronts Its Legacy in Season 6

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As Better Call Saul heads into its sixth and final season, the AMC hit has found a way to carve out its own path beyond the enormous shadow of its big brother, Breaking Bad. The series combines incredible cinematography, outstanding acting, and intelligent storytelling in a peerless fashion. 

As we continue to anticipate the show’s final episodes, we were lucky enough to get the chance to talk with executive producer Thomas Schnauz about how much the drama has already accomplished, how instrumental actors like Rhea Seehorn and Tony Dalton have been to the program’s success, and what the show’s lasting legacy will hopefully be. 

Den of Geek: Do you have any inklings of information on whether AMC is going to split the sixth season into two parts? This has been a rumor for quite some time and I know Peter Gould said he had hoped it would be aired as a single entity. 

Thomas Schnauz: I don’t know. Because of the COVID delays, and then Bob’s heart attack and recovery, I have zero idea when or how the episodes will be aired. Everything with production is moving forward, steady but slow. We’re filming scenes that don’t involve Bob right now. I just finished editing my director’s cut of episode 607, and I addressed some notes on my script for 611. I’m still waiting to hear the dates of when I’ll prep and direct 611.

Heading into the final season, Better Call Saul is different from a lot of other shows in that we already know what Jimmy McGill’s fate is going to be. What we don’t know is what Gene Takovic’s closure represents. How much more prevalent will those scenes be in the sixth season?

We will of course address Gene’s future, but I’m not at liberty to say how much or how little will be in the show. We talked about it a ton when we were breaking the episodes, and all we writers can do is go with our gut about how much Gene we see. Everyone chimed in with thoughts, and Peter Gould had the ultimate choice, and I think he picked an amount that we’re all happy with.

The fifth season of the show got a lot more action-oriented than past installments as Jimmy and Kim themselves go a little too close to the cartel. Can we expect the violence to be ramped up even more in the final season? How do you balance keeping the same tone the show has always had while realizing that things change as you get close to the finish line?

We don’t really pay attention to matching the tone or the amount of violence that came before in previous seasons. We just do what’s right for the current story. The show has always been violent in my eyes, since season 1, with Tuco and the skate twins, Nacho’s threats to Jimmy, Mike in Philly… and also emotionally violent, with Chuck betraying his brother. So there will be more physical and emotional violence in season 6, but I can’t swear that it’s any more than we had before. We’re coming to the end, so whatever happens will probably hit harder.

Many people have come to view Lalo Salamanca (Tony Dalton) as the best antagonist in the entire Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul universe. Will his role be even larger in the final season than before and do you and the other writers regret not bringing the character into the fold earlier in the series? 

Season 5 felt really special to me. I just felt like we were clicking on all cylinders, and Tony Dalton was a big part of that. We certainly talked about bringing in the character Lalo as far back as season 1, but now with 20/20 hindsight it feels he came in at the perfect time. I can’t say if Lalo’s role will be bigger or smaller in season 6, but he was certainly pissed off and a man on a mission in the season 5 finale.

Last season you wrote one of the most acclaimed episodes in the series, “Bad Choice Road”. How much of the iconic scene with Lalo interrogating Jimmy and Kim at home came from your own imagination and how much of it was a group effort from the whole team? 

We writers all work together on all of the episodes, and it’s just too hard to remember who came up with what beat/line/idea. On my Twitter page (@tomschnauz) I post the boards that we work on (index cards with all the story beats), which is a good indication of what we came up with in the room. I want to say that I did pitch the Lalo interrogation technique of having your prisoner repeat the same story over and over until there’s a discrepancy, but I can’t swear to it. When it comes time to write, we use the cards to help guide us, so the “writer” of the episode puts his/her spin onto it, but even after that, a writer will sit with Peter and often another writer to either streamline or, sometimes, bulk up a scene if it’s feeling thin.

Did anybody realize what an asset Kim Wexler was going to be to Better Call Saul when the show first started? Was it always the intent to make her a de-facto lead, or did Rhea Seehorn impress so much that it just came about naturally as the plot and the themes kept progressing and calling for exploration of her character?

We had zero idea what Kim’s role would be in the series. In fact, I think the writers were still debating into season 2 if Kim and Jimmy had an intimate relationship prior to us meeting her in season 1, or were they just friends? I wrote the line about the “sex robot voice” in episode 3, so I was in the camp of: “they started something but career took over and it didn’t quite go anywhere.” We knew Rhea was good when we saw her audition tape, but then seeing her in the role as we were filming season 1 — all the nuance, the humor, the gleam in her eyes — we knew we had a special combination with her and Bob. 

Read more

TV

Better Call Saul: Rhea Seehorn Shares Her Favorite Kim Theory in Exclusive New Clip

By Alec Bojalad

TV

Better Call Saul Season 5 Reveals Kim Wexler’s Heart of Darkness

By Alec Bojalad

These actors share that indescribable thing when you watch them — when the characters struggle against a system stacked against them, you root for them, but then… when they start “breaking bad” and doing things they shouldn’t, you still root for them!  Maybe you’re not rooting for them to succeed in the horrible thing they’re doing, but you’re still with them and shouting, “No, turn back!  Don’t get caught!”  So, to answer the question, the series is what it is and Kim is who she is because Rhea worked so hard and brought so much to the character. It definitely helped the writers make choices about where the plot should go.

What do you want Better Call Saul to be remembered for What element should be considered its lasting legacy? Do you think this has been a show that has the ability for people to continue to discover for many years to come?

When we started this show, I thought we’d have very limited viewership — a small percentage of the people who watched Breaking Bad. I would have been thrilled with 50% of that audience. But I’ve been delighted to meet and hear from fans who have never seen the original show. I’m hoping people will go back and rewatch both Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul because of the way we wrote them: we didn’t go in with an overall plan, and when we finished writing one episode, we weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen next. 

So the writing was a struggle and we put ourselves into tight corners, and when searching for an answer for these problems we created, we were often surprised, and I hope that comes through in the viewing. The plot is not predictable, and the answers are hard to get to, so I hope both series stand up to repeated viewing.

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

Better Call Saul season 6 is expected to premiere in 2022. Check back with Den of Geek tomorrow for more BCS tidbits from Thomas Schnauz. 

The post Better Call Saul Confronts Its Legacy in Season 6 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3zAgjt8

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter One: Clip #8

Note: the full, edited version of Chapter One will be posted either tonight or tomorrow. I still need to do some editing.  

master list previous

Vrijdag 20:23

Robbe couldn’t remember the last time that he laughed so hard. 

They had arrived at the bar that Jens had chosen an hour ago and Robbe hadn’t felt as relaxed as he did now in the past three months. It was a small bar with just enough people inside to fill the tables, a jukebox playing a soft 80s song that Thomas would’ve hated, and a billiards table with a crowd of people around it. There were enough tables to form a pathway and a black-haired man behind the bar with black-framed glasses on his face. There were various groups around the bar—a loud group by the jukebox, others around the room, one on the edge of the bar. 

It was the type of bar where friends came to hang out and have a good time. But overall, it wasn’t Jens’s typical style for clubs. 

Jens liked hanging out at clubs with bright neon lights and pounding music. After getting a beer or two, he used to hype up Moyo to talk to the girl that he had been eyeing, pat him on the back for making an attempt, and eventually find someone to spend the evening with. Once he and Lucas had started dating, the last step morphed into him dragging Lucas onto the dance floor, a little buzzed and drunk on each other’s presence. 

But when Robbe arrived with Lucas in tow, his best friend seemed at ease, grinning from ear-to-ear when he saw them and craning his head to kiss his boyfriend. All of their friends had arrived before them, waiting patiently at the six-chaired table they had chosen. Lucas and Robbe had been cornered by Milan on their way out of the apartment to get their opinion on his date outfit for his third date with Jonathon. Then they argued about taking the bus vs. their bikes (“No, I’m taking my bike because you’re probably going to Jens’s place,” and then, “Robbe, I don’t know that,” and then, “Really? Every time we go out, you go home with him. I’m right and you know it. I’m taking my bike,” and finally “Okay, you’ve got a point.”). While Lucas claimed the seat next to Jens, Robbe chose the seat where he could see the rest of the bar. 

For the first ten minutes, there was an awkwardness in the air that none of them could shake. It was like they were all struggling to get used to the “new normal.” Robbe tucked his feet beneath his thighs as his friends struggled to find things to talk about. Aaron started talking about his recent date with Amber, but it ended after Jens subtly shook his head (Robbe pretended that he didn’t notice). Moyo talked about how he met a girl in one of his classes, but that earned him a head shake from Jens as well. Finally, Lucas started telling stories of what he had witnessed at the coffee shop, which kicked off a series of laughs and groans of embarrassment. 

Within thirty minutes, Robbe felt the tension in his shoulders melt away. His laughter was practically ripped out of his chest, increasing in magnitude with each new story that Lucas told with a frightening amount of detail. After a handful of stories and a beer or two in his system, Lucas was half-leaning against Jens’ side, his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. A story about two baristas who ended up spilling frappuccino all over each other brought out laughs from everyone.

“Better a frappuccino than a hot coffee!” Moyo pointed out, his hands covering his face. Beside him, Aaron cackled loudly, his eyes scrunching up as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. Lucas laughed as Jens tightened his hold on him. 

“But,” Lucas spoke up, looking serious out of nowhere. He sat up in Jens’s arms and pivoted to the group, leaning in to talk to them like he had a big secret. Robbe took a drink of his second beer, which he had been nursing since he downed the first one. “That’s not nearly as embarrassing as the story where that guy had something to prove at the bar.” Lucas turned to Jens, who ran a hand over his face and groaned loudly. “It was embarrassing to witness.”

“How bad?” Robbe asked, giggling. 

“So bad,” Jens answered, letting out a low whistle. 

“Well, come on, tell us the story!” Aaron urged. 

Jens rolled his eyes, sitting up. “Fine, fine. It was somewhere around Christmas, right? So it’s late in the evening and we’ve got this huge party that’s coming in. Lots of food and a free bar tab that the company is paying for or whatever and-” 

A loud laugh echoed through the bar, over the sound of his best friend’s chatter, over the gentle murmur of the bar. While he could still hear Jens chattering, his brain tuned it out and his eyes immediately went to the bar, searching out the laugh in question. It took several glances over the bar before he found the back of Thomas’s head—which he could recognize anywhere. He found his ex sitting across from a guy with dirty blond hair and a pair of glasses. The two of them were talking to each other, laughing over a couple of beers. 

All at once, the bar felt suffocating, closing in on him from the outside. Robbe reached out, grabbing his second beer and downing it. If his best friends thought it was weird, they didn’t say it (though Jens did send him a questioning glance mid-sentence). However, downing the remainder of his beer did next to nothing to distract him from Thomas. Sure, his mind was a little bit hazy now, but his eyes were still drawn to Thomas, and the bar still felt like it was suffocating. 

Without thinking, Robbe got on his feet and pushed his chair in. Once he realized his friends were staring, he said, “I’m going to get some air.” 

“Are you okay?” Jens asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine,” Robbe lied. “I’m just going to get some air. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

Even as Robbe stepped into the summer night, he knew his best friend wasn’t convinced. The door slammed shut behind him, abruptly cutting off the 80s music with a sharp snap. Even though he had simply stepped outside, he felt like he could breathe again—at least better than in the bar. In the warm night air, Robbe could feel his hazy mind wanting to collapse and hide in the shame of his feelings. But he consciously stepped towards the bike rack; away from the bar, away from his friends. 

Once he had taken a few steps, he glanced over his shoulder and relief flooded his system when he realized his friends couldn’t see him anymore. 

Without consciously making the decision to, Robbe collapsed against the brick wall. Through his t-shirt, the brick scratched relentlessly against his back as he slid to the pavement. He pulled his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees, like he was trying to hold himself together. He didn’t want to ruin what was supposed to be “guy’s night out.” Robbe’s breath was shaky as he exhaled, resting his forehead against his knees to even his breath. 

From a distance, he heard the bar door open. There was a brief, abrupt moment of that 80s song interrupting the silence in the street before it was cut off with the slam of the door. Still wrapped in his cocoon of his arms and legs, he could hear someone walking in his direction and the mechanical sounds of a lighter. The footsteps stopped as a shadow passed over him. A deep voice—one that Robbe didn’t recognize—asked, “Are you okay?” 

Robbe wasn’t—and he was certain this stranger knew that or he wouldn’t have asked—but Robbe wasn’t the type of person to pour his heart out to a random stranger, so he mumbled, in the most sincere tone he could manage, “I’m fine.” 

There was a moment of quiet.

Then, “Well, you don’t look fine.” Robbe snorted. “In fact, you look the opposite of it. And when I don’t look fine, my roommate always suggests that I smoke and talk about my troubles… So, here.”

Robbe tilted his head towards the stranger. The refusal was on the tip of his tongue. He might be confused, desperate to forget Thomas, and buzzed, but Robbe was smart enough not to take a drag from a stranger’s cigarette. As he turned, his eyes caught sight of the joint. It rested between the tips of the stranger’s long and tanned fingers, held out for him to take. The refusal caught in his throat as his eyes caught sight of the tattoos on his wrist.

It started at his wrist, tall black grass encompassing his wrist completely before extending upward as tall black trees. Each tree reached a different spot on his arm and they all stopped before reaching his elbow. The space between the trees was filled with other tattoos—a sunflower, two different dragonflies, and some which Robbe’s hazy, emotional brain couldn’t identify. Each piece flowed together and intertwined like one seamless, intricate design. From his angle, he could tell that the tattoo continued beneath the sleeve of his shirt, but he couldn’t identify what it was.

His eyes flickered up the rest of the way, catching sight of the man’s features, slightly obscured by shadows. From where he was standing, he was blocking the light above Robbe’s head, which shined down on his head like a real-life halo. The halo effect shined a little brighter because of his bright, bleached hair, like Zoë’s. The man moved to sit down beside Robbe, sliding down against the brick, and it was only then that he saw his features in full. The sharp curve of his jawline—bright green eyes, a dark eyebrow that quirked up as a silent question, a crooked smirk of a smile, the meticulous style of his white-blond hair. 

Fuck, Robbe thought, immediately averting his eyes.

The man extended the joint again. Swallowing, Robbe managed to shake his head and get out. “No, thank you.”

“I didn’t poison it,” the mysterious (hot) stranger said, a slight tilt in his voice. As if to prove his point, he brought the joint up to his lips and took a long drag. Robbe watched briefly as the smoke poured from his lips before turning back to the street in front of them. “So, what’s going on?” the stranger asked. Robbe glanced over at him as he leaned against the building. “I saw you leave the bar a little bit ago.” Robbe didn’t believe that, but he didn’t refute. “And you were sitting quite dramatically. Something must’ve happened.” 

Okay, he lied. Sober, level-headed Robbe wouldn’t spill his heart out to a stranger. But currently, Robbe was neither sober nor level-headed. And the stranger had asked him what was wrong, which was more than Thomas had done in the last few months of their relationship. He let out a heavy sigh and said, “My ex was inside… with someone else and I just don’t want to deal with it. I had to get out.” 

“Ouch,” the stranger said, wincing. “That must suck.”

“A little, yeah,” Robbe admitted. 

“Was it a bad breakup?” the stranger asked. “I’ve had at least one messy one, so I can relate if that’s the case.”

Robbe let out another sigh, turning to him. The stranger stared at him with bright, curious green eyes. The joint was still resting in his fingers. The tip balanced dangerously on his bottom lip before he parted his lips and took another drag. “It wasn’t really messy,” Robbe admitted, the smoke filling the space around them briefly before it dispersed. “It was mostly mutual because we had started to pull apart from each other and such. But, it still…” he trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Hurts,” the stranger filled in. 

Unable to say anything else, Robbe nodded. He could see the stranger nodding out of the corner of his eyes, breathing out smoke into the air around them. Silence fell over the space between them and Robbe bit down on his lip. The man looked like he was about to say something else and Robbe turned to him, ready to hear what he might say. 

But, quite abruptly, the door to the bar flew open again. 

The sound of the jukebox spilled out onto the street, suddenly and loudly, now playing a modern rap song. Robbe turned toward the front door—in his periphery, he saw the mysterious stranger doing the same—to see who was leaving the bar. Dread temporarily formed in his stomach, wondering if it would be Thomas and his date. But it was Jens who stepped out. Once he spotted Robbe, he made a beeline for them. Behind him, his boyfriend and their friends exited the building quickly. Jens stopped in front of Robbe and said, hurriedly, “We’re leaving, Robbe.” 

“Huh? What do you mean?” Robbe asked, blinking up at him. 

“Well, Moyo got a text from Luca about a club that she’s at with the girls and we wanted to go check it out if you wanted to,” Jens answered matter-of-factly. “We might gain some of the girls. But it’s still going to be guys’ night and we just might manage to get Moyo a date.”

Despite being happy at the prospect of leaving, Robbe was confused. Jens had talked about how he had picked this bar (based on Senne’s recommendations) so they could hang out without the distractions of the typical club: neon lights, pounding music, chaos. But now they were going to go to the same place that he had been trying to avoid?

Looking for answers, Robbe glanced at their friends. He could see that the three of them were tense and maybe a little lost. Aaron was the closest to the street, typing away at his phone. Lucas was talking to Moyo in hushed voices as he sent a glare into the bar. Without needing to ask, Robbe knew who he was looking at. Whenever Thomas was mentioned, Lucas would make the same face, a mixture of distaste and protectiveness. 

Realization hit him.

They must’ve seen Thomas.

“Okay,” Robbe said. He pushed himself up to his knees, but, once he was standing, he remembered that he wasn’t alone against the brick wall. He glanced down at the stranger, who was still sitting against the wall with the cigarette in his mouth. He wore an amused grin as his green eyes darted between them. “Thanks for the talk, um…” Robbe trailed off. In the few minutes since he had sat down, Robbe realized that he had never gotten the mysterious stranger’s name. 

The man held out his hand and Robbe took it. His hand was much larger than Robbe’s, practically swallowing his smaller hand, and warm to the touch. “Sander.” 

Robbe nodded, sending him a small grin. “Thank you, Sander.”

The mysterious man, no, Sander, beamed up at him, his lips twisting in a quirky smirk as he said, “You’re welcome, Robbe.” 

End Chapter One next (Zaterdag)

[hazelenergy]

How I Digitally Paint like a Scenic Artist/Designer

Aka: how I did this and put my degree to good use. 

LONG POST WARNING

Step 1: Research. 

First off, get to your image search. If you are going to be using Google, you may want to type “-pinterest” in the search to eliminate the countless boards. 

I had to figure out clothing that is vaguely late 1800s. I found a multitude of reference images that were fancier clothes- but I wanted to find images of clothing for kindred across all social classes. Photographs from the era and paintings are your friend. They will more accurately showcase what was worn. 

After Fashion research comes location research. The 1890s in America is known for the rapid industrialization. Factories were getting bigger and work days were getting longer. But, I wanted the moonlight to be cascading into the place, illuminating the scene. This means I needed to find a structure that had skylights or let sunlight in. And the best images I found? Slaughterhouses. Fitting, huh?

The same rule for fashion still stands- if you can find photographs or paintings from the era- they’re better. There are tons of places still standing today from the 1800s. But today, they look WAY different. Ya know, Abandoned! So just be sure to take this into consideration if you search “abandoned slaughterhouses” or go trespassing like I did.

Lastly, pose research. Finding the poses for a fight scene can be tedious. So, I enlisted some help from a few fight choreographers and stunt men. You can record their fights and play them back at quarter or half speed. You can also get a mirror and flop on the floor a bunch. I did both. This lets you see the action/motion lines you are going to replicate in the drawing.  Heres how we initially did fina’s pose:

And sometimes you have to go back and get a clean shot. I ended up using this pose for the axe.

Step 2: Set up and Background!

When you open a new file, set it to the dimensions and resolution you want. I was working at 600. Usually, I’m working at 300-350. You can always reduce resolution. Its hard to prevent fuzzy lines if you increase it later. 

I cannot stress the following enough:

You work background to foreground. Big Shapes and areas to little shapes. Work your way forward. What this means is you need to fill in as much space as possible first. Then build your details. I prefer working as follows: Big Solid tones, Soft shadows, Dark Shadows, Highlights, then final blend. Once you finish this, put an overlay on top. This knocks everything back and helps create the illusion of depth. See this at work with the video below or here

Step 3: Figure Drawings + Composition

Utilize that research and images you collected to pose your characters. I create subfolders for each set of figures. Organization is important here. This will help keep you on the right layer and prevent the eternal digital artist struggle of “Fuck that was on the wrong layer!”

Even after you move on to lineart and shading, Keep the sketch layer as a reference. You may need to see what youre original notes/ figures looked like as you do the lineart and shade. Don’t be afraid to move them around and alter the composition rn. You want to be able to make changes. Make notes! Detail light sources! 

I’m about to through out some art jargon:

You want to think about asymmetric balance. The easiest way to achieve this in an eye-pleasing manner is to use the Fibonacci spiral. Yeah. This boi:

Place your figures and actions in a similar sequence to the spiral and the viewer’s eye tends to naturally follow it. This is sometimes called the Golden Ratio in the art world. 

Doesn’t need to be perfectly on the spiral. You can break it- but its an excellent tool to plan how things move in the piece. 

Step 4: Lineart

Once you got things sketched- its time to do the lineart. I’m using clip studio paint’s standard brushes. Nothing fancy. I often switch between the G-pen and the For Effect Liner. Mapping and Turnip are for thicker lines. 

Usually I set these pens to a specific thickness depending on where I’m drawing.

My background figures are lined at 0.05 thickness, the midground is .1 to .2, Fina is .3 and the foreground is .4. I set my stabilization high to help keep my lines smooth. Stabilization 100 means there’s a significant delay between where the pen is and the cursor. I like the stabilization to be at 20 for freehanding and at 50 ish for outlining. Dont become completely reliant on the stabilization though. Good and smooth lineart is drawn from the arm not the wrist. Your range of motion is severely limited if you only move your wrist. Practice moving from your elbow and you’ll be surprised how much smoother your lines get. 

Once I finish lining the figures, I usually go around it with an outline. This does three things: 

1. Solidifies the figure and cleans lineart for paint bucket tool. More on that in the next step.

2. Its a stylistic choice. Helps give it that comic book feel with a heavy outline. 

3. Pushes figures forward or back in the composition. Thicker outline helps denote that a figure is farther forward than another. My background figures have no outline to push them away 

Step 5: Digitally coloring

For each figure you are going to select outside the lineart. 

Create a new layer under the lineart

Invert the selection. Paint bucket. You should now have a solid shape of the figure under the lineart. Do not deselect.

Create a new layer above the one color. Title it solid colors. Paint in thick, solid tones. I like to use the mapping pen and turnip pen to color in my solid tones: skin, clothing, hair, etc.  

After that, deselect. Create a multiply layer if you can. If your program does not have a multiplier function, Pick a tone you want to use for shadows and lower the opacity (usually 30-40% I like to use lavenders or blue tones). It will not be as vibrant, but you can edit it in post. Select off of the solid colors layer. I like to start with skin tones. Use the airbrush tool to create soft shadows. You don’t want to create harsh lines on this layer.

Then repeat this process with harsh lines.  

Then knock it all back with an overlay. If you dont have the ability to create an overlay, you can again drop a solid color and lower the opacity, but you’ll have to mess with the color balance/ brightness/contrast to let all the hard work come through. 

You’re going to repeat this for every single figure. Here’s a few color theory tips though.

Your overlay colors should be darker (not more vibrant) in the foreground and lighter (avoid using pure white) in the background. This helps with the depth of the piece. Things closer tend to be darker (not always true, depends on lighting)

You can choose to use color theory to aid your shadows. Instead of choosing black or grey for shadows, choose a complimentary color. I used a lot of green for this piece, I used red for really dark shadows. Its not that black drains color- its just loses some depth if not used carefully. 

Keep your colors consistent. Helps unify the piece. You can strategically break the consistency to draw focus. For example, Fina is the only figure with a true blue overlay. This helps her stand out from the other figures who have reds and greens. 

Step 6: Touch Ups and Final Renderings

Now comes the most tedious part. If you’re like me, your computer fans have been whirring for the last few hours trying to render this monster of a file. If you havent already,  SAVE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD

These are the last four layers I have for the entire piece. Here, I am trying to create effective and believable lighting. This kind of work I have only been able to achieve in clip studio or photoshop. You can do it with normal layers, but choose your colors CAREFULLY. Stay away from pure white. Carefully utilize your knowledge of light and shadow to create soft highlights. Harsh lines tend to be a stylistic choice for me. The final layer, subtract, dulls out harsh red tones. I used this as a final overlay to help put everyone and everything in the scene. Without it, things are a little too green and skin tones are a little too blushed for vampires.

The challenge here is I want to tone down the red, but not lose the vibrancy of the blood. So, shift it to a blue. This also helped reinforce the “nighttime” effect. Its only a slight change.

Final thoughts:

Whenever you finish something, its important to reflect.

1. I am so FUCKING PROUD OF MYSELF. This is easily one of the most complicated pieces I’ve done in a while- and I’ve made 16′ tall faux stained glass. Brag. Let yourself feel awesome cuz you just made something awesome. 

2. I timed myself on the piece. I could have easily spent another 7 hours on it. But its important to know when to stop messing with it. Partially for budget reasons but also when you get down to the details you can make yourself go insane. Theres also a ton of detail work I lost cuz of overlays or its just too small to notice. Fina’s face? hard to see cuz its not close enough. 

3. I needed to take frequent breaks for this piece. That was good. Resting and stretching was very important. That is one of the reasons why I was able to work so fast. 

4. I started doing more digital art in April 2020. I have to say, practice makes perfect. I practice drawing and digital painting for at least 3 hours a day. 

That discipline has allowed me to improve so rapidly. So- I don’t wanna hear shit about I can’t possibly get this good! Or I couldn’t even draw a stick figure! BULLSHIT. You can. Get yourself some free software like Krita or Autodesk sketchbook and start playing! 

And thats what I got! Thanks for coming with me on this long post! 

[slasher-party]

Leslie Vernon’s Secret 2021 Short Film: Wait For It

J: Calling all Leslie Vernonites! This info is MUST KNOW for all fans of the Glen Echo slasher! So even if you already know about this project, please consider reading & sharing so more fans can get excited about this!  (This is a post I’ve been REALLY excited to make for a while, so I really hope you enjoy and spread the news!) Lace your boots up, kiddies; this is gonna be a looong post. I’m putting every step of my discovery path in here. That way you have access to all my sources:

We begin our journey on YouTube back in July. I was fooling around, watching some Leslie content, and was recommended  Joebizz34's 1/6 Behind The Mask Leslie Vernon custom figure video (tip: bold words from this point forward are most likely links). I thought it was super cool! And it had about 1k views. A small plug! But I scrolled down into the comments... and spotted a familiar face.

‘Nathan?!’ I thought to myself. Was this his actual YouTube account? That singular like is my own, by the way. So odds are, Joebizz34 himself hasn’t even seen this comment (or doesn’t realize who this is). Step One: Investigating Nathan’s Channel A natural skeptic, I assumed this was a fan account and set out to prove myself wrong. (Here’s the link: Nathan Baesel) At the beginning of all of this, this was the main task I was attempting to accomplish.

Pulling up his page, there isn’t much to look at. Just a clip from an old movie and a short video of someone who clearly isn’t Nathan Baesel. He also only has a handful of followers, but that didn’t deter me and I decided to look deeper. 

Popping over to his own subscriptions, another familiar face jumped out at me:

Ben Pace! Who you might recognize as the man who played Doug in Behind the Mask!

Double-checking this page as well, this is definitely his channel. 

And Leslie/Nathan fangirls will find a particular little treat in this pinned video of his, Hello Jogger:

Absolutely fantastic, the both of them. 

So this is a good sign, but Ben doesn’t follow him back, and I couldn’t find any interaction between them with this account. So this isn’t definitive proof.  Step Two: the 197 MPH Promo Going back to his channel, I checked out the first video he had up... with only 15 views on it. 

Now, this guy I didn’t recognize. So I jumped in to see if I could figure out who it was, and low-and-behold, you’re looking at David J. Stieve, the writer of Behind the Mask. And that man in the back? In the stripes? Well, check out the video yourself and you’ll see:

Now, there’s a lot to unpack here. Keep in mind - I was just trying to figure out whether or not this was Nathan’s actual YouTube channel for fun. Now I’m going nuts cause there’s apparently some short-film set in the Behind the Mask universe that I haven’t heard about?! At this point, I can’t say for sure this is Nathan’s actual YouTube account, but I can definitely confirm that that is Nathan in the video, and this main guy is David Stieve, the writer of Behind the Mask. (Also, can I just say, I live for Nathan’s sass? He’s just the best, guys.) But my goal had changed. Now I needed to find out what this Wait for It project was all about. Step Three: Discovering Wait for It I jumped on over to IMDB and there it is: Wait for It (2021)

Check out that unnamed boy. That’s right, folks.  You’re looking at a secret Behind the Mask project. (That little bit of trivia that says they’re linked was actually added by me. Sorry for the bad wording - I tried to fix it but IMDB wouldn’t let me, so, what can I do.) Now, talk about being hard to find! Without my addition, there’s nothing that points to this having anything to do with Leslie. Even with Nathan & David’s involvement. I checked Twitter today, and there are only a few tweets (with the #WaitForIt tag) that refer to this project and not Hamilton. David hasn’t said anything about it, Nathan hasn’t said anything about it. That I saw. I did an advanced search but if I accidentally misspelled something and they have mentioned it, please let me know. From this tweet:

I was able to find the IndieGogo for the project:

Which was closed a long time ago, with only 36 backers, where B4TM got roughly 300. One can only assume it was an exposure issue, but it doesn’t seem like they really advertised it. However, I wasn’t a Vernonite back in 2017, so I can’t really say that for sure. The last update was from 2018, which stated that things were in motion for the project: 

But then again, the last update on the B4TM Indiegogo is outdated, stating issue #6 is in production when I have it sitting on my desk right now. So who knows where this project lies. It could be even further along than the update suggests, and after all, the IMDB does say 2021. One last update I found poking around the official B4TM Facebook page: 

Now, this is a little strange. You have the Behind the Mask crew here, and given the title of the page this is posted on, one would assume this “screening” is for Behind the Mask. But looking at the date, and the now-familiar-to-us posters on the table, that might not be the case.

So, does that mean this short film is finished and unreleased? Does that mean we see Taylor and crew in the film? Or are they there to support the creators? I’m leaning toward the latter. A streaming party was also an incentive for backing the Wait for It fundraiser. I’m lead to believe they premiered a rough-cut of the short film, and that’s what we’re looking at in this photo. That may also be where the technical data on IMDB is pulled from, but that rough cut isn’t available to us, and the finished project isn’t either. If it is I can’t find it, otherwise it’d be part of this post.  I also did check the collector’s edition Blu-ray (which I’ve yet to get myself but I do want it for the incentive of extended/deleted scenes, the interviews, and the movie commentary), but Wait for It was not listed as part of the bonus features.  Now, this interview has the most information about the project’s details out of everything out there I’ve seen so far. It’s an audio-only over the phone interview a horror channel did with David Stieve back in 2017.

For details on what Wait for It is about, and how it fits into the Leslie universe, it would be better to listen to this interview than for me to write it all out.

Step Four: What now?

Well, I realized that I might have found something that maybe a lot of people don’t know about, but they should. So, I’m putting this together! While we can’t back the project monetarily anymore, we can support it, the creator, and the Leslie Universe by spreading as much awareness about it as possible.  With that said, this is all the information I’ve found, with the links included. Poke around and see if you turn up anything else! And if this project is available somewhere, even as a rough cut (but so long as it’s posted legally), please do share! I love Leslie, I love Taylor, and I love what the Behind the Mask universe stands for. I love David Stieve’s mindset, and if I won the lottery tomorrow, I would immediately call him up and tell him any Leslie projects he had planned were now completely funded. I’m really just that passionate about this franchise. 

Thank you so much for reading this!  I hope you found out something new, or you at least now have a post with all the information about Wait for It gathered in one place. Like I mentioned at the beginning, please consider sharing so all the Vernonites know about it! As always, much love to all of you, and the Slasher community!  XOXO, Mod Jess

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter Four-Please Remember

Book: TRH

Pairing: Liam and Riley

A/N: Thank you @burnsoslow who edited the hell out of this and did so masterfully and just for all your support with everything. Also, @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore and @romanticatheart-posts I stole your words from your comments on the previous chapter. It was just two sentences but wanted to give credit where it was due. Keep your comments coming and you two will have this thing written for me..lol. And lastly, @dcbbw who sent me the perfect song for inspiration found here:

 https://youtu.be/3Ru1euNUN2s

Warning: Physical altercation and MC death mentioned.

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

Silence fell on Liam’s lips as he held in his hand the first missing piece to Riley’s death. It had been exactly 12 hours since she departed this earth and his life,  taking with her the best parts of himself. Every second since had felt like thousands of painful stings throughout his entire body that he wanted nothing more than to numb.  Would this report provide him with all the answers he sought to why her life was taken from her? Would it make his heart hurt any less knowing what happened? Or would it simply open Pandora’s box, leaving him with more questions?  He knew it wouldn’t heal the pain he felt, but perhaps it would clue him into why she was gone.

Ignoring Bastien’s suggestion to sit, he turned away from his head guard and pinched the clasp of the manila envelope. With his heart thundering in his chest, he reached inside and slid the report from its enclosure. Pacing nervously, his eyes scrutinized every single word, line by line, from her name to how the exam was conducted. Nothing was abnormal.

He licked his thumb and turned to the second page. His eyes immediately caught sight of the bold type at the bottom of the page, and he couldn’t help but skip straight to it.

The cause of death is acute respiratory distress from potassium cyanide-induced histotoxic hypoxia. 

Manner of death: Homicide.

Liam read those words over and over again, unsure he really believed them. His stomach wrenched as thoughts of his own mother's murder began to haunt him; how could this happen again?  Riley, his love, the one who made him complete, who turned his world upside-down in the very best ways possible, succumbed to the same death his mother had over 20 years ago. Poisoned.

He had spent the last several hours contemplating whether he had done something to hurt her, thinking perhaps she hadn't been physically ready to be intimate the prior evening. As ominous as that thought was, knowing now that she was murdered, that he risked her life to marry for love after his father warned him of the pain of losing Liam’s mother, made him feel every bit as culpable of her demise. It was why he hadn’t chosen her at his coronation; he knew she was set up, but he had to protect her, even if it meant they couldn’t be together. 

Liam turned to Bastien with a remorseful look. “I killed her, Bas.”

“Sir, you did no such thing.”

He held up the report. “Then explain this … he warned me, Bastien; my father told me my love for her made me weak, that I put everyone at risk by choosing her. He was right.”

“Your Majesty, regardless of what the late King said, the same poison that killed your mother was found in the Queen. We need to proceed with an investigation and find out who really committed this atrocious act.”

Liam ran a hand down his face. “Yes, we need another damn investigation that will take you 20 years to figure out-except you didn’t figure out who killed my mother! my friends and I did that!” he spat.

“Sir, with all due respect, I wasn’t the Head Guard when your mother passed.”

Liam yanks Bastien by the collar, nearly nose to nose with him. “YOU ARE FOR THIS ONE!”

The guard attempted to loosen the grip, feeling the weight of his King’s words. “Please, sir. I understand the anger directed at me …”

“Oh, I don’t believe you can even begin to understand the anger I have for you, Mr. Lykel.” Liam stepped back. “You are charged with protecting my family, and so far two members of the royal family have been murdered on your watch:my father and my wife..So help me God, if I find out you could have prevented this and failed again …”

“What’s going on?” Drake asked, having heard the commotion and stepped around the corner to make sure everything was okay.

Liam continued to eye Bastien with a steely glare. “Drake, can you stay with Ellie while I take care of some business? I need someone I can trust to actually protect her.”

__________

In the lowest reaches of the palace, Liam placed two cold hands on the cell bars of the former Duke of Karlington. Godfrey had been imprisoned for the last six weeks, awaiting trial for his part in Eleanor’s death. The elderly man was lying down on his cot, stewing in boredom and oppressive thoughts, when he heard the familiar sound of keys clanking and the creaking of the door swinging open. Before he had time to lower the arm that rested over his eyes, he was jerked from his peaceful doldrums on the bed and brought to his feet. His aging body was thrust against the icy concrete of his prison walls, causing him to bounce off and stumble harshly to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Liam crouched down beside him, grabbing a fistful of Godfrey’s silver mane in one hand and his feeble neck with the other. “You son of a bitch. I will give you one chance and one chance only to rectify your miserable life before I strangle you with my bare hands!"

"This is preposterous," he gagged slightly as Liam's hand constricted tighter around his neck. Godfrey instinctively began tugging on the King's arm, desperate for breath.

"Did you kill my wife?" His tone became sharper.

The Duke gasped for air after the grasp on his neck was loosened. He furrowed his brows as he stared straight into the unforgiving eyes of his captor, unsure whether the lack of oxygen caused him to misunderstand.

"Did I hear you correctly? The Queen … is dead?"

Liam released his hold on Karlington's neck but kept the other bound to the back of his hair. "Did.you.do.it?'' he seethed.

"I haven't the faintest idea what the bloody hell you speak of!'' he replied contemptuously. "I'm facing death for what happened to Eleanor; what possible reason would I have for harming the Queen now?"

"Because you have a track record, Your Grace. The same poison you used to end my mother’s life was found in Riley’s body. I don’t believe this is just some coincidence.  You had nothing to lose."

"I would have nothing to gain either," he replied succinctly.

Liam let out a heavy sigh and stood, towering over the man whose deception and thirst for power had cost him years of anguish and emotional turmoil as a child. He searched Godfrey’s malevolent face for any indication of guilt or responsibility, yet none was detected. Feeling overcome by mental and physical exhaustion, he turned and walked toward the prison doors, where a guard stood nearby watching the encounter. “I’m ready.”

The guard pulled his keys from the clip on his belt and opened the door. As he exited and the lock was secured behind him, Godfrey pushed himself up from the ground and called out to him.

“Your Majesty!”

Liam stopped just out of view but did not face him. "What is it, Godfrey?"

Godfrey grabbed the bars of his cell and pressed his withered face against them.

“Sometimes we have no one to blame but ourselves. Are you really surprised this has happened, considering that from the moment you announced your engagement to the puckish American, our country has suffered one attack after another? Perhaps you’ll think wisely when choosing your next queen, because this lies squarely on your shoulders, Rhys."

Liam hung his head low Godfrey’s words were doing exactly what he intended them to do, getting under his skin and inside his heart. He did blame himself; he knew he always would. The guilt was eating him up inside because he thought the two of them together were unstoppable. They had encountered every possible danger together and always came out victoriously, but somehow he failed her this time. He turned on his heels, motioning for the guard to reopen Godfrey’s cell door.

“Take care of him.”

The guard nodded and lifted the pommel of his club from the holster at his side.

_____________

That evening, Hana would return to Valtoria. She had offered to stay, but Liam insisted he and Ellie would be fine. Maxwell and Bertrand returned to Ramsford soon after, and Drake retired to his room.

Liam stood just outside his bedroom after putting Ellie in her crib for the night. Fear of being in their room without Riley, sleeping in their bed alone for the first time and knowing that was the last place he saw her alive, prevented him from stepping inside. He placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, then let go. 

With the baby monitor still in his hand, he headed back downstairs and stepped out onto the balcony just off the living room. Liam placed both hands on the balcony railing and leaned into it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing the cool, spring wind that carried just a hint of honeysuckle to refresh his mind and relax his worn and weary body. 

“My love,” he began, peering down towards the entrance of the hedge maze. “I keep expecting to wake up and see that beautiful face of yours looking back at me, telling me this has all been just one horrible nightmare.” His throat began to tighten as his emotions started to resurface. “I have all of our wonderful friends, I have Ellie, but I don’t have you … and I’m so lonely, Riley,” he choked out. “I’m so lonely.”

Liam swiped away the tears that began to surface and roll down his cheeks like a torrential downpour. “Everyone keeps telling me that we will find out who did this to you - and I swear I will - but in the end, it won’t bring you back to me ... and our little girl will never know her mother, Ri. How do I even begin to tell her about you?... about us?” 

Liam pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and washed it over his teary face. His gaze turned to a small apple tree that he and Riley planted just outside the hedge maze shortly after finding out they were expecting a baby. Liam recalled she wanted something to represent the three of them: her being from the Big Apple, him being from the Land of Apples and their baby referred to by the people of Cordonia as “the Little Apple.” A thought crossed his mind, and he knew it was the right decision.  “Love, if it’s okay, I would like to lay you to rest under that tree.” He sniffles, “I think you would have wanted that.”

Feeling his eyelids growing heavier than he could withstand any longer, he said a quick good night, hoping it reached the heavens, before returning to the warmth of the indoors. 

Liam walked back upstairs and grabbed two blankets and a pillow from a hall closet. He entered Ellie’s room. Even with a guest bedroom, he didn’t want to be alone tonight, opting to sleep on the floor next to his daughter’s crib. 

______________

It had been one week since Riley died, and there were no leads, no suspects, no evidence other than the cyanide found in her body. No one who had spoken with or saw her in the days prior to the tragedy noticed anything that suggested she was sick. Cyanide poisoning kills quickly, though, and Liam, as the last person to see her alive, couldn’t explain how she ingested it. Their quarters had been swept, and no traces of suspicious activity was found anywhere. As frustrating as all of this was to Liam, he had something else on his mind today.

It had taken him three days to finally re-enter his bedroom, yet he still slept in Ellie’s nursery where the staff prepared a small bed for him there. He knew it was nonsensical, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be alone in bed without Riley.

Today, all businesses were closed, flags lined the streets of the Capital, and a frenzy of press and people were already gathering along the funeral procession route to pay homage to their beloved queen. At the palace, Liam stood before the vanity, adjusting his tie, smoothing out his suit jacket, and locking the emerald  cufflinks Riley gave him in place. He glanced over himself once more in the mirror before peeking down at Ellie, who was sitting in a bouncer on the vanity beside him, watching his every move. 

“All right, Princess, this is where your mother would tell me my tie is crooked or I have a hair standing up in the back. It’s up to you now; what’s the verdict?”

Ellie’s lips curved into a large smile, completely enamored by the attention she was getting from her father. “I will take that to mean the Princess approves,” he smiled back.

Liam gathered a baby cloth and slung it over his shoulder then lifted the baby from her bouncer. With a kiss to her forehead, he moved downstairs, where Bertrand and Maxwell were waiting for him at the door. Both brothers’ grim faces perked up at the sight of the approaching baby, who was almost a mirror image of Riley. Miss Talbert, who had served as Riley’s personal assistant, agreed to stay on as Ellie’s nanny, having helped care for her in one way or another since her birth.

“Amanda, she’s been changed and fed recently and will most likely take a nap within the hour.”

“Come here, sweetheart.” Amanda took Ellie from Liam’s arms. “We’ll be fine, Your Majesty; I’ll take good care of this little peanut.”

Liam kissed his daughter on the cheek. “Daddy loves you, sweet girl; I’ll be home soon.”

He looked down at his watch and then to Bertrand and Maxwell. “We should probably go.”

Stepping outside the front doors of the Palace, Liam took a deep breath and prepared himself mentally for what he thought would be some of the most difficult hours of his life. The eyes of the world would be watching his every move, every expression, and every shed tear. It wasn’t fair that he had to be strong; he detested the expectations he was burdened with on today of all days, yet it was what was conventional of a monarch during a time like this. Any sign of weakness could be detrimental to his country, or so he had been led to believe. He wondered why grieving the loss of your wife, your best friend, could be misconstrued as a sign of vulnerability ... but then, perhaps, today, he was vulnerable.

The sun was high, and the warmth it rained down was quite welcoming. With Maxwell on Liam’s left side and Bertrand on his right, they stopped at the end of the cobblestone walkway that led to the drive in front of the palace, and there they waited. The silence that commenced for the next minute was finally broken by the advancing sound of a horse’s trot. 

Drake was riding Maribelle’s Dream and pulled a wooden caisson bearing the casket of Riley Brooks. Draped over her coffin were the flags of Valtoria, Cordonia, and Ramsford, as well as a bouquet of her favorite flower, purple lilies perched in the center.

Maxwell lost all control of his emotions as she passed by, while Liam and Bertrand bowed their heads in deference. Once the carriage had cleared, the three men stepped forward and followed behind on foot, out the gates and to the cathedral. 

The service was a traditional, royal funeral. Liam wasn’t sure she would have liked it, considering she was anything but traditional. Sitting in the front row, he maintained his stoic facade as everyone around him wept and sniffled, yet inside, he was completely destroyed. He was devastated in his grief and the realization that the last time he was in this building, he was beginning his life with her; now, one year later, he was here once again, for its ending.

“King Liam of Cordonia, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you vow to love her, comfort her, and cherish her, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in times of joy and times of trial, til death do you part?”

“I do.”

At the conclusion of the ceremony and after all guests in the cathedral had exited, Liam, Drake, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand each gathered around Riley with heavy hearts. It had been decided they would each place a sentimental item with her and say their final goodbyes, away from rolling cameras and the eyes of the public. This would be their final time together as “The Gang” and wasn’t something they wanted to share with anyone else. 

Bertrand, never one for words, gave her a copy of the bill for the Applewood dress she never returned, knowing she would have found it hilarious and so perfectly him. His throat tight with emotion.  “Goodbye, Lady Riley, until we meet again.”

Hana stepped forward. “Riley, you gave me the confidence to be me, to follow my own path, to have fun, to laugh, to be wild and free. You’ve always been there for me, and I will never forget you.” She gave Riley the recipe for her hot cocoa that they had spent so much time bonding over. It reminded her of all their best times together. She placed a hand on her friend’s cheek.

Maxwell held out a small white box and placed it next to her. “I wanted to give you a box of cronuts because it was one of the funnest nights I ever remember with you … I assume you would appreciate the fact that I’ve already eaten half of them.” he chuckled through tears. “I’ll never forget you, Riley … I … I … I can’t do this.” Maxwell turned and fell into Bertrand and Hana’s embrace.

Drake inhaled deeply. “Uh … hey, Brooks. You already know what I got you.” He slipped a bag of marshmallows inside. “I can hear you laughing now and telling me how gooey I am on the inside. I like to think you had a little something to do that with, but don’t go getting all boastful about it.” He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. “Damn, this hurts, Brooks … but I want you to know, I’ll take care of Liam and Ellie and … maybe you can save me a seat at that bar in heaven.” He smirked, “Yeah, my heaven has a bar, and all the whiskey I can drink.”

The four friends stood back, their arms around each other as Liam prepared to say goodbye. His thumb caressed her temple as he looked down at the face of his angel.

He cleared his throat and reached inside his breast pocket, pulling out several things. “Love … I have a few things to take with you, just some photos of us together and Ellie … and because you know me better than anyone, you would know I spent last night writing this letter to you … you always said I have a letter to write for every occasion. I won’t read it to you, but --” his lips began to quiver and his shoulders shook -- “I wanted you to know how proud I am of you … how proud I’ve always been of you. You possessed a strength I never had and without you, never will. All those dreams we won’t be able to fulfill -  yet we lived every dream we had to the fullest. We sure had one hell of an adventure, didn’t we?” He sobbed passionately, “We just ran out of time.” 

Liam leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Riley’s lips, lingering for just a moment. “I always loved you … I always will.”

With that, “the gang” left together and returned to the gardens of the Palace. They gathered together for a private burial under that apple tree she planted, while the birds soared, the butterflies flew, and the squirrels ran across the lush palace lawn. The five of them held each other, cried and laughed, remembering times and a life they would never know again.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 4

here’s the next installment! hope you enjoy. thanks in advance for the likes and reblogs <33333

[Read Chronicles on AO3!]

so i’ve been working on a new song recently. watch this space for a clip.

i think.

Well, he meant it when he said he wanted to play a song that matched her eyes. Marinette’s eyes. He’s just lucky he can find so much inspiration in color.

It’s just that every time he sits down with his guitar or his music notebook, it feels like no note or chord can do that color justice. It’s been like this since the day the met, after band practice dispersed and he holed himself up in his room with his guitar. It’s not that no music comes to him; no, he can pick up on that easily. He’s been playing people’s hearts by ear for as long as he can remember. It’s just that no matter what he tries to play or scribble down, no matter how much he tries meditating to clear his mind, it doesn’t sound perfect. Even if he tries to match the tempo to that spark he saw and the sweetness of her voice, even if he tries to make the music swell for the richness of the color, none of the melodies sound like just that right shade of blue. The unreachable kind.

Maybe that’s the point.

Even if it is, he doesn’t want to stop trying. Her eyes are worth the effort.

In fact, Juleka’s the one who finds him lying flat on his back in bed, still holding his guitar as he stares up at the ceiling, playing out every blue song he knows because even that’s better than trying to make it up in the silence. “Wow,” is all she says. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What?” he mumbles, half-wanting to say Sunday? instead. “The day I’d have it this bad for a girl?”

“The day you’d actually find music hard,” she says. “But that, too. Usually I’m the one who’s supposed to be this bad.”

Never mind that Juleka and Rose have been dating for years, and practically inseparable for even longer. Luka puts his guitar aside, grabs his pillow, and promptly groans into it.

“You know,” Juleka says; he can feel her looming over him, just like she did when they were both still teenagers and she wanted her turn on their shared handheld console at the asscrack of dawn. “I think you’re the one who needs the pick-me-up this time.”

Under the pillow, Luka rolls his eyes. “I’ve spent enough money there this week, trust me.”

“What’s this?” she teases. “You’re passing up the chance to meet eyes with Cute Bakery Girl?”

God, he forgot she followed him online. Why wasn’t there a way to edit posts so that your sister, who apparently only ever graced you with her snark, couldn’t see them?

When he pulls the pillow away, Juleka is smiling, toying with the ends of her hair. “Get out of here,” she says with a nudge. “You’ll feel better if you walk away from it for a little bit.”

She’s right, but he doesn’t say so out loud. “Is that code for, ‘The sooner you feel better, the sooner you can help me re-dye my hair?’”

Juleka snorts. “It might be.”

The first time he ever went to Tom and Sabine’s… it had to be months ago. Back when he’d found Juleka at her desk, crying and stressing over some exam or assignment and PMS-ing all at once, all during her first year in university… God, it was terrible, seeing her go through that. Not as bad as actually going through it—he’d probably never know what any of that felt like. She’d broken at just the first touch of his hand on her shoulder, broken when he hugged her through it and murmured that it was all going to be okay, and here he was, doing the quickest search he could manage of nearby pastry shops that sold pear tarts. The best ones.

Juleka always did deserve the best; that went without question.

Tom and Sabine’s was the first result to show up. Stellar reviews—nothing below four stars. It was the obvious choice; he didn’t need to look anywhere else. He biked the whole way there, and the instant he walked in and removed his helmet, he was all but walloped with the smell of freshly-baked bread, the classical music wafting through the shop, the display cases of sweets—and then the kind lady at the register, waiting for him to approach. She’d packed the tart with such care and affection as soon as he’d told her who it was for and why, and he felt it. All the  she felt for every creation in this space. All the love for every person who had the honor of tasting them.

He didn’t need to go anywhere else after that. They spoke his language, in food instead of music, so they had his patronage on lock.

And now they extra had it on lock—he’d admit it to himself and a few hundred sort-of strangers, at least—because of Marinette. Whose wit isn’t exactly firecracker, but is still warm and quick enough to keep him on his toes. Who seems to know how to hold her own and look like she wants adventure in the great wide somewhere all at once. Who read his note, and smiled, and might not have thrown it away. Who just might have let him in.

Who, of course, is working the register today. (Seriously, he knows the bakery is open every day, but does Mr. Dupain really not give her any days off?)

And who, of course, is watching him with those sparkling, unreachable blue eyes as soon as the door opens. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” she comments, the threat of a smile at the corner of her mouth and a faint lilt in her voice. The kind that tells him she probably watches a lot of sitcoms in her spare time, because you don’t pick up that kind of teasing wit from nowhere. “At this rate, you’re gonna be seeing the dentist as often as you see this place.”

Luka balks a little, but tries not to show it. “I mean,” he says, jerking a thumb behind him, trying to make a joke of it all. “I can go…”

“Don’t.” Marinette says the word like she means to spit it out—like she regrets her own joke, even—then pauses as if to assess herself. “Sorry,” she sighs. “It’s been a long week. What can I get for you today?”

She looks… apologetic. It’s actually kind of sweet.

“Hey,” he says; it comes out more gently than he meant it to, but it certainly doesn’t seem to do any harm. “Don’t worry about it, really. Can I just get an eclair to go?”

Marinette nods, seemingly unconvinced, and sets to work. It’s while she’s reaching into one of the display cases that Mr. Dupain’s voice comes seeping under the door to the back room. “Marinette! Are you out there?”

“Coming, Papa,” she says without so much as looking up, her voice all too musical as she lays the eclair in the box—

Wait.

Papa?

He must be staring, because when she looks up, the first thing she says is, “What are you looking at?”

“You…” Luka clears his throat. “You’re Mr. Dupain’s daughter?”

Marinette’s brow furrows. She doesn’t look upset, simply confused—as though the answer should have been obvious to him. “Um… yes?”

“Oh. Well.” He pauses. “Huh.”

What is he doing? What the hell kind of reaction is that?

“I mean, I get it,” she says. “I look more like my mom than my dad, but…” She shrugs, smiles faintly. “At least I’ve got his eyes.”

This time, when Luka stares, it’s intentional. Over the music, he’s putting the pieces of her parents together—her father’s eyes, her mother’s hair, all of their joy in the smiles he’s seen. The more he looks, the more she looks like them, and the more he wonders if he’s trying to traces something in him, too. There’s… something in her that looks like she might know him, but he can’t possibly place where.

From the back room, Mr. Dupain—Marinette’s father—calls her again, and she jolts to attention again, makes for the door. Just before she opens it, she gives him one last meaningful look. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she says, “at your service.”

“At least until Mrs.—until your mom gets back,” Luka says. “Right?”

Something hopeful flickers in her eyes, or maybe he’s just hoping that it’s hopeful, before she disappears behind the door, and Luka strolls on out with her name buzzing behind his teeth. Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Something about it sounds so friendly. Something about it sounds so… familiar.

He’s about five steps around the corner when he realizes, among all the repetition and trying to place just who she inherited those gorgeous eyelashes from, that he left the eclair on the counter.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng isn’t laughing when he comes dragging his feet back into the bakery, but those blue, blue eyes are. “Forgetting something?” she asks, nodding to the lone beige box on the counter.

Luka wonders if his are laughing, too. He hopes they are. He gives a two-fingered salute, and this time, just before he opens the door, she’s the one to call to him.

“Thanks,” she says. “For the note.”

There’s a scream that wants to rip its way out of his chest and explode with excitement and relief, and he channels every bit of it into how tightly he squeezes the doorknob. There’s something else that wants to turn him back to her, to get one last look at those blue, blue eyes, but he doesn’t let himself. If he does, he’ll never leave, and then he’ll never hear the end of it when he gets back home. “Anything to make somebody’s day a little brighter,” he finally says.

Which isn’t entirely wrong. It’s just that instead of somebody’s, he wants to say, yours.

(He wanted to get away with it. Saying her name one more time.)

plot twist of all plot twists: Cute Bakery Girl is Wholesome Bakery Couple’s literal daughter.

they have an entire daughter.

and she’s cute as fuck

and i’m so dead

and p.s., i think she’s been giving me macarons for free.

[freudensteins-monster]

I Need a Hero! 

Following on from Ooh! Barracuda!

Despite what Darcy had promised, their third date had ended with them still fully clothed, kissing goodbye on the street outside the restaurant they were supposed to be dining at, all because some asshat let mutated wannabe velociraptors escape from a lab in Nova Scotia.

And though they both claimed to want a do-over, culminating in the stereotypical post-third date activities, that first interrupted date was the start of a holding pattern.

They made reservations at another nice restaurant and Bucky walked Darcy to her room at the tower. They made out against the door – the inside of the door, as the hallway had hears, and high resolution cameras – but then Bucky cut it short claiming he had an early training session at the upstate facility in the morning.

Okay, thought Darcy. Except she learnt later on that he had volunteered for it the morning of their date.

The following weekend JARVIS found them an old school dance hall and the pair got dressed up in their 1940’s finest and went out dancing. Bucky walked her to her door again, and again cut their goodbye kiss short claiming tiredness because of the training upstate, and the travel, and the dancing.

Fine. Except Steve had mentioned two days later that Bucky had been putting extra sessions in at the tower gym – including the night of their dance hall date.

Darcy invited him around for a home cooked meal and suggested they watch something from Bucky’s “must see movies of the last 100 years” list. She instigated a little Netflix and Chill action, only for Bucky to put the brakes on claiming he wanted to see how the movie ended.

Really? It’s not like they couldn’t have paused the damn thing, Darcy would grumble to Jane later.

For their next date she pulled out the big guns: a slinky, sleeveless, little black dress that showed even more skin than the blue-grey number that had prompted Bucky to ask her out. When she opened the door Bucky’s knees almost buckled at the sight of her (or the girls) and Darcy thought she was on to a winner. She was flirty and affectionate on the way down to the lobby, and Bucky seemed to be reciprocating, but of course, their luck being what it was, the second he opened the car door for her his phone rang with an emergency Assemble.

Fair enough. He couldn’t fake an Assemble, but he didn’t have to look so damn relieved about it.

The mission took three days and when Bucky returned Darcy was caught in the middle of Jane’s latest breakthrough, so it ended up being a full week after their last failed date before they could reschedule. This also gave Darcy plenty of time to plan a course of action to address the elephant in the room, which basically boiled down to “talk about it like mature adults in an adult relationship”.

“This suuuucks,” Darcy groaned to her empty apartment as she waited for Bucky to knock on her door.  Thankfully she didn’t have to wait too long; a minute later and she would have chickened out.

“Hey doll,” he greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you like crazy this week.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a crazy week,” she joked lamely, as Bucky made himself comfortable on her couch.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind tonight? I was thinking we could try that Caribbean ramen place Tony was going on about and maybe start one of those Star Wars trilogies everyone seems to love. Sam wants to watch them at the next team movie night, but you know he and Clint will just talk over them and it’ll just ruin my first viewing.”

“Speaking of firsts,” Darcy interjected, grasping at any excuse to get the crappy portion of their evening over with. “Do you not want to have sex with me?” Bucky balked and couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. Darcy cursed herself for having the subtlety of Thor’s hammer, but sat as close to him as she dared and powered on. “Considering how you were looking at me the day you asked me out, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you find me attractive, but you keep pulling away from me when things get hot and heavy, and I know you’ve been making up excuses so you can cut out early. So… what is it? Why are you embarrassed to tell me no? Is it a religious thing – do you not want to have sex before marriage? A medical thing? Do you not want to have sex at all, or just not right now? Whatever it is, I just need you talk to me about it and tell me where you’re head’s at so I can adjust my expectations accordingly, okay? Because right now I feel like an asshole for trying to move us in a direction that you’re clearly not comfortable with.”

It took Bucky a minute to reply, his mouth opening and closing as he tried and failed to find the right words, but eventually he turned those beautiful stormy eyes of his in her direction and took one of her hands in his.

“First off, of course I find you attractive. When it comes to brains and beauty I think you leave Hedy Lamarr in the dust,” he assured her with a smirk. “And don’t go twistin’ yourself up thinkin’ I only want you when you’re wearing one of those maneater ensembles of yours. Done up and dressed down, soft and sexy; I like the whole package, sweetheart.” Darcy couldn’t help but blush. “And I do want to have sex with you…”

“But…”

Bucky sighed and squeezed her hand just a little bit tighter. “But… Nobody but doctors have seen me without my shirt on since I came back to myself, and I can’t stop worrying about what you’ll think.”

“About?”

“All this,” he replied with vague gesture.

“Your arm?”

“You gotta remember that I got the knock off version of the serum; I ain’t like Steve,” he added, anxiously rubbing his shoulder. “I might heal fast but my scars don’t fade like his do. At least, the ones Hydra gave me didn’t. It’s not pretty, and I just don’t want to see you pretending like they don’t upset you.”

“Of course they upset me, Bucky. But only because I wanna tase every Hydra goon in the balls for what they did to you. Seeing your scars isn’t going to make me want you less. Solid muscle and solid metal, cocky and self-conscious; I like the whole package, Sergeant Barnes,” she teased.

“Oh, yeah?” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Ugh, dude. Don’t make me fall on my sword.”

“Huh?”

“JARVIS, can you play my favourite fanvid?” she asked the ceiling with a sigh.

 “Of course, Miss Lewis.”

“What are we watching?”

“Just… watch,” Darcy cringed as she shushed him. “And try not to hate me or, like, run screaming from the room in search of a restraining order.”

 🎶 Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods 🎶

Bucky knew this song. He heard it every now and then when he was passing by Jane’s lab on the way to or from Tony’s, but it would always cut out when he got close. He’d asked Darcy about it once and she claimed it was her ringtone. Now that he thought back on it she had definitely been lying but he’d been too distracted by her bashful smile to notice it. He turned his attention to the television fixed to Darcy’s living room wall and as the song continued dozens of hastily edited together video clips were thrown up on the screen. Video clips of him. There were paparazzo footage of him and some of the team leaving a bar in DC after they’d gone out for drinks on Sam’s birthday, some video of him lifting weights in the gym for that Avengers Tower behind-the-scenes thing that Pepper had organized, though it was slightly pixelated as the editor tried to zoom in on his arms. There was even news footage from his missions with the Avengers, and a few of his missions against them.

“Is that… is that the Winter Soldier in Germany?”

“Um… yes?” Darcy winced.

“People like that – you like that?” he asked incredulously.

“I know it’s awful of me, and you have every right to hate me for making light of something that is obviously so awful, but seriously dude, you were built like a friggin tank! I don’t know what you were eating when you were hiding out in Romania, but damn!”

After a few more minutes of crippling awkwardness Darcy finally asked JARVIS to cut the feed.

“So…

“So… I hear this song playing in your lab all the time. Just how often have you watched this thing?”

“I plead the fifth,” Darcy blushed.

“JARVIS, how many times has Darcy watched this video?”

“Don’t answer that!”

 “This is Miss Lewis’s 57th viewing of this particular Youtube video.”

Bucky looked rather pleased with himself. “Fifty-seven…”

“Okay, listen, I may have left it playing on loop one afternoon while I cleaned my apartment. I have not sat here and watched it fifty-seven times.”

“I can remember at least four separate instances where I’ve walked past your lab and interrupted this song.”

“So? That’s just four times.”

 “Miss Lewis also asks me to loop her into gym’s security footage whenever you and one of your teammates are sparring.”

“JARVIS? What the hell?” Darcy screeched as Bucky doubled over with laughter.

 “I apologise, Miss Lewis. I just thought Sergeant Barnes would appreciate having all the evidence at his disposal.”

“Go away, JARVIS.” Darcy sighed and tried not to combust from blushing as Bucky chuckled at her embarrassment. “Okay, fine. As you can see from Exhibits A through to like friggin J: I find you stupidly attractive. So, you don’t have to worry about me being upset about your scars from an aesthetic point of view, because if it’s not painfully obviously, I want to see you naked. Real bad.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to blush. “Can I kiss you, doll?”

“Please,” she begged with relieved smile. “Anything to stop me from embarrassing myself further.”

They started tentatively at first, but soon things started moving in a horizontal direction, with hands toying at the hems of shirts and brushing over zippers, and Bucky pulled back. Darcy did her damndest not to let her disappointment show and waited patiently for Bucky to tell her how he was feeling.

“Do you think we could, uh, relocate?” he asked, surprising her as he tilted his head towards her bedroom door. “I don’t know if I’ll want to… I mean, we can try…” he stammered.

“Whatever you’re okay with. Whatever you want,” Darcy promised.

Bucky swooped in for another kiss before lifting Darcy up off the couch in one smooth movement, smiling like an idiot as she giggled in his arms.

“JARVIS, play us out.”

🎶 Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat / It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet / I need a hero! 🎶  

[ontowanderlust]

How to say I love you (3)

A/N:  Hi. Hello. Yes, I’m alive, and yes I should’ve updated sooner. In my defense, it’s been one hell of a semester, I’ve had quite of a rollercoaster ride and not in a good way, mind you. Writer’s block had enveloped me in some ways you can’t imagine and now, here we are.

I would like to thank all of you for still going to my blog even if it’s dead and still read my works. You guys are awesome! I do wish you’d take the time to comment or send me asks about random stuff....

Another thing, please excuse this story. It’s not as par as the first two and well.... I hope you guys bear with me.

Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas! (It’s Christmas here sooooooo yeah)

Special thanks to: @grimpower-s My dearest beta, you are amazing! Thank you for editing this on short notice and for waiting for quite a long time for my update.

One of the reasons why I haven’t posted this was because of the sucky title. Let me know if you guys have better ideas. The other reason was just I’m too lazy to post this. My betas knew that I had a name written here but I had to revert to second person since… this is tumblr. (Though, the last name is predetermined already, don’t fight me on this.) Let me know if this sucks or if you guys like it.

Also some reminders:

Five is eighteen in this fic

The apocalypse had already happened

(Spoiler) They are sent back in time

And there are some of the 43 involved in this fic- there are 16 actually. Find them all and hit me in my asks if you knew the reference of the names.

Alternatively: 7 times he confessed and the 1 time she accepted his confession / 8 ways to say I Love You

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Prompt: This prompt is brought to you by R. McKinley (you write beautifully, may I just say) and @chickenshit​‘s photo edit. I did say that I’m gonna write something about this, right?

=Masterlist= 

It was so unlike her to stay silent as she assessed him. Given that she usually had a comment ready for him, he’s unsure as to what to make of her lack of reaction. 

It didn’t help that they are both standing on the front porch of the Morris’ mansion- where they could be easily seen by either of their families with him wearing that stupid suit and tie Luther had procured for him while balancing a ridiculously large teddy bear and huge bouquet of flowers shoved onto him by Allison.

Why hadn't he asked Vanya again? He groaned inwardly as he shifted his weight in an attempt to curb the nervousness he is starting to feel. Oh yeah, her boyfriend turned out to be a real piece of an asshole. 

“You need some help with that?” she asked, gesturing to the ridiculous items he held as he gladly shoved them to her, eliciting a slight oof from her. 

“Please,” he muttered, backtracking his action as he helped her settle the teddy bear to the ground while she balanced the bouquet on her arm. “They’re yours anyway,” he cleared his throat, wiping his pants discreetly onto his pants. 

Why the hell is he nervous? It’s just his neighbour, after all. 

His neighbour, whom he found annoying, whom he had kissed the week before. He inwardly groaned. If only he could go back in time without facing another repercussions…

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes darting from his gifts back to him, searching his eyes for answers. “Why?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?” he echoed as he studied her, eyes narrowing as he was trying to decipher if she was messing with him. “These are what girls like, right? You know, when someone needs something from them? Flowers, teddy bear, chocolates, and a fancy restaurant date?”

As much as he liked to see the smile creeping back to her face, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of annoyance as he watched her face go through a myriad of emotions, finally settling with a full blown laughter. 

“It’s the chocolates, isn’t it?” he groaned as he was about to spatial jump and find the item he had forgotten to which she waved him off. 

“And where…” she wheezed out, trying to control herself. “Where did you even get that information, hmm?” she challenged, tilting her head at him as her laughter ceased, rising to her tiptoes as she reached over, the back of her hand pressing onto his forehead to feel for any sign of fever. 

“Please don’t tell me you resorted to watching those cringey films-”

How dare she? 

“Listen, you ungrateful-” he started, trying to swat her hand away from him. 

He was cut off by the front door swinging open only to reveal the grinning face of Y/N’s twin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his sister. “Hey, there you are! You’re being-” his jovial tone died in his throat as he drank the scenario before his eyes. “-summoned.” he finished lamely as he watched his sister pull away from the ridiculously overdressed guy standing on their porch. 

Crutchie paused at the doorway, his head shaking as his grin made its way back to his face as Five closed his eyes in embarrassment. 

Just when he was about to speak again, Five grabbed Y/N’s free hand, his wrists glowing as he spatial jumped both of them out of the porch, and out of Crutchie’s sight.

“This isn’t what it looks like, Crutchie!” the remaining lad let out a small laugh as the sound of his sister’s voice died into the air while he retrieved the forgotten bear before closing the door. 

“I have to admit, this is not what I envisioned when I saw this. I’ve always thought this was his way of proposing…” he muttered to himself.

“I… am severely under dressed for this.” She bemoaned as the blue lights dimmed, revealing the fancy restaurant he was talking about earlier. He wasn’t really kidding about taking her to the restaurant. 

He gave her a glance over. While her description of what she is wearing is severely under dressed, he had known that she was brought up beyond a comfortable lifestyle. Her dress- while she would describe it as simple, it is enough for his breath to be taken away. “You look fine,” his tone is dismissive, yet he couldn’t help but glanced at her again. “As you always do.” he muttered to which she turned her head to him with a questioning look on her eyes. 

She shook her head as he grabbed the menu off the table. When she felt him actively averting his attention from her, using the menu as a way to do so, she sighed, effectively stopping time around them as she did, earning the attention she was seeking from her companion.

She stood up, carefully taking the bouquet before striding towards his end as she took his wrist and dragged him away from the table, and away from the restaurant. 

When she felt like she had placed quite a distance between them and the offending restaurant, she had relinquished her hold over time but she had yet to relinquish the hold she had over the boy. 

“What the hell was that?” Five demanded of her as she steered him towards the park near their houses and slowed her pace, prompting him to do the same. “I was about to order you food.”

She scoffed. “You’ve no idea on how to dine exquisitely. Stop trying to pretend like you have an idea of what it’s like to live in finery. It doesn’t suit you.” She scolded him. “Besides, why would you even take me there when you’re obviously not used to that kind of stuff?”

“I don’t get you,” he spoke as he shifted her hold on him in a more comfortable position. “Here I am, trying to make up to you, trying to apologize but you won’t even give me the chance. Do you really not like me that much?”

“And why exactly are you apologizing?” she countered, pausing at her tracks. “You know, this is the most out of character you’ve ever been: dressing to the nines, knocking over my front door, giving me ridiculous stuff, taking me to a nice restaurant… if I hadn’t known any better, I would think you’re trying to take me on a date here!” she spoke in a no nonsense tone, her hands leaving his to move animatedly as she enumerated what he had done, faltering for a moment as he watched her eyes went wide. 

“What?”

“Are you…” her voice dropped to a whisper as if she was afraid of voicing something confidential out loud. “...confessing your feelings for me?” she asked out of nowhere, making him freeze. 

He looked at her sombrely. “...would you believe me if I were?”

“Not in the lightest.”

Her reply was instantaneous and clipped as she resumed walking, making him do the same. What the hell is wrong with this girl? One moment she’s all animated then the next she’s being hostile. She hadn’t believed him yet so why would she believe him if he had outright shown it through this? 

Whatever. It’s not like him to care about anyone’s opinions. He shouldn’t make any exceptions. 

But why does it feel like he is suffocating?

“If you had allowed dinner to commence,” he cleared his throat, reigning him back to reality. “You would’ve known that I was trying to apologize for my actions last week.” he explained in a strained voice. 

“Last week?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “What did you do last week that warrants all of this?” 

“Please don’t tell me you had forgotten what transcribed last tuesday.”

“You mean to tell me that you went all through this just so you could apologize because of the kiss?” she slowly uttered the words as if she was trying to comprehend what he was trying to convey. 

“Exactly.” he nodded. “If you could just find it in your heart-”

“Fine, I accept your apology!” she suddenly exclaimed, throwing her free hand in the air in somewhat defeat. “Now can you please just stop being weird?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “Me?” he asked her. “Being weird?” 

“Weirder than usual.” she amended as her face underwent a myriad of emotions, settling on furrowing her eyebrows as she sighed. “You didn’t have to go through all of this, you know? A simple apology would’ve sufficed- not that I was expecting one from you anyway. But thank you, it means a lot as to how far you’d go for an apology.”

He didn’t know why but there was a strange urge for him to utter those words he was dying to say ever since he saw her on her porch earlier. He could’ve easily blamed it on the way the street lights seemed to envelope her in an ethereal look, or perhaps the way she looked right now with a bouquet cradled on one arm while dressed in one of her simpler yet refined dresses.

“I-” he opened his mouth but at the last minute, he seemed to swallow the words as she looked up to him with those eyes displaying a curious look. “So we’re okay now?”

She let out a small smile. “Yeah, we’re okay now.” she seemed to hesitate for a bit but decided against it as she stepped towards him, raising onto her tiptoes as she hugged him tightly, ruffling his hair as she quickly stepped back and dashed away from him, perhaps out of embarrassment. 

He shook his head, a small smile slowly creeping its way to his lips, that heavy feeling dissipating all so suddenly.

“Okay.”

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans - Chapter 2: The Heist

Charles was, in fact, difficult to persuade of the plan. Sure, he wants money just about as much as any of the rest of the crew. But he's also pretty fucking pissed at Eleanor Guthrie.

Although the prospect of getting one over on her – and ruining another one of the people responsible for sending him to jail and getting filthy rich in the process – is a strong incentive. And Jack's always been good with words. Persuasive, one might say. Charles is stubbly, slightly recalcitrant putty in his hands.

So they all troop down to the nearest YMCA so Charles can take a shower. And Anne shoplifts him some slightly more upscale slutty clothes, because God forbid the man ever actually wear a shirt. But he looks like a halfway respectable stripogram by the time he shows up to Eleanor's little birthday party – a fashionable two hours late so the party's in full swing and he doesn't look desperate. Though Eleanor will probably still read him that way. A pathetic sad sack crawling back to her on bended knee, ready to beg forgiveness and willing to do anything to get back in her good graces now that his former crew is a wreck and Flint's run off to America.

Eleanor thinks she's got Charles right where she wants him – under her two-thousand dollar heels. But that doesn't mean it's not a scene worthy of the fucking Baftas when she sees him come through the door.

Jack and Anne and the new guy are posted up in the kitchen, dealing to all the posh little fucks looking for a bit of white gold to get the party started right. Just killing time until Charles makes his move and he and Eleanor head to the bedroom.

And minimalist open plan living being in fashion, even in these old Victorian piles, they can hear every fucking word of the happy little reunion from a whole half a house away.

“Why Charles,” Eleanor practically purrs – and it's the purr of a Jaguar, lethal and expensive. “Whatever are you doing here.”

It's not a question.

Charles forces himself to look down at his feet. As if he's weak. As if he's ashamed.

“Eleanor.” He makes it sound anguished instead of angry. “I had a lot of time to think while I was away.”

Because Eleanor and her lot threw him away. And who knew Chaz was such a good actor? There's none of the violent, simmering fury Jack knows he feels over the betrayal. His tone is contrite and he must look suitably groveling, because Eleanor lets him continue.

“I started thinking about what was important – what was good in my life.” Namely her. And what he'd do to get her back. Though that goes unsaid, because there's such a thing as laying it on too thick, even for Eleanor fucking Guthrie.

And they – Jack, mostly Jack, who'd coached Charles through the whole interaction - must have struck just the right balance of pathetic groveling and virile masculinity with that little performance, because Eleanor says, “Why don't we discuss this somewhere more private, Charles?”

A few minutes later, Jack gets a surreptitious eggplant emoji from Charles's burner phone – the prearranged signal that he's successfully convinced Eleanor to sleep with him and that they're free to comb the house. Jack sends a winky face in response and then he, Anne, and the new guy split up to search for the cash.

Knowing Charles – and Eleanor – they'll probably be tied up for a while. Charles almost definitely literally. But that doesn't mean they can dawdle.

Anne takes to rifling through the bedrooms, disturbing several couples – and more – in the throws of passion. But she's always been good at intimidating idiots to stay out of her way – and so obviously on a mission that they don't do more than voice a few token protests. Plus, she's good enough at what she does – and they're so wrapped up in their drugged out fucking – that she's in and out before some of the participants even notice she's there. But, as Jack learns from her regular updates of terse “NO” and red “X” texts, she has no luck finding the cash.

Jack hadn't really expected Eleanor or Woodes Rogers to keep the cash in a random bedroom, where any horny houseguest could stumble upon it. So that just leaves the master suite – empty, what with Eleanor having taken Charles to the room that apparently serves as her bedroom cum sex dungeon, if Max's deeply - horrifyingly deeply - detailed description is to be believed. (Privately, Jack thinks Eleanor may have gotten just a little bit too invested in the whole Fifty Shades trend. But bored horny women are bored horny women, regardless of bank account balance, apparently.)

And Woodes Rogers is otherwise occupied downstairs, courtesy of the new guy, who's apparently caught his eye and is being rather badly flirted at, if the increasingly frantic texts Jack keeps getting are any indication. Jack feels bad, he really does – ok, not that bad, he'd do the same thing on purpose if Woodes Rogers was into queens. But he likes a little bit of rough - not that Jack can blame him – and the new guy seems to be doing it for him, even if he's got a pretty boy face. And this is probably the best chance they're going to get of having the house to themselves for the search. So he tells New Guy to stick it out and if Woodes Rogers starts getting too sleezy to make a break for it. They'll all meet at the rendezvous point at the kebab shop in the West End anyway, it doesn't matter if they don't all go together.

Plus, it'll help take the heat off if they just look like regular party goers instead of co-conspirators in a heist.

But Jack doesn't have a lot of extra time or attention to spare for New Guy's plight. Because Anne's struck out in the master bedroom, except for some rather tasteless but presumably expensive jewelry. And Jack's searched the study - a big, stupidly imposing room that practically screams “compensating” - and he's come up with zilch. A fucking goose egg, outside of a moving bookcase that hides a humidor. Probably Eleanor's.

So he moves on to the library, the last place the cash could reasonably be without them having to try and search the fucking basement.

It's probably the least used room in the house. Because sure, Woodes Rogers is a lawyer of some description and Eleanor an accountant. But the paraphernalia for that kind of stuff gets kept in blinding glass and steel corporate offices. This room is for impressing the impressionable. And it's absolutely stuffed to the fucking rafters with first editions of classics and entire sets of encyclopedias that Jack would bet real money have never even been opened by their current owners.

There are also several oil paintings in heavy gilt frames – perfect for hiding a wall safe. And if that doesn't reveal anything, there's always the horrifically overbearing desk situated in pride of place in front of the enormous bay windows. Jack can just see Eleanor there, sitting in the high backed antique chair like it was a throne, dispensing her version of mercy on groveling penitents.

Jack wonders if she ever made Max fuck her in that chair. That feels like something she'd be into.

And with that lovely thought, Jack turns to search the nearest painting – a drab toned portrait of a man who is presumably one of Woodes Rogers's antecedents. Blugh. But, heinous crimes committed during his life or no, he isn't the final resting place for stolen goods.

Jack turns to the next painting and the next with no more success. The final painting – one of hounds on the hunt – doesn't reveal the cash, but it does reveal some rather racy photographs of Eleanor and one of her previous lovers (neither Max nor Charles, so Jack doesn't remove them) in what is apparently Woodes Rogers's pathetic attempts at a black mail collection on his wife. It's quite sad really, so Jack just takes a snap of it for Anne – who'll undoubtedly show it to Max, who'll get a kick out of it - and moves on to the desk.

There, he strikes gold. Or cash, really. There's a hidden compartment in the bottom of the desk drawer with a lock on it – as if that could stop Jack. Or anyone with better fine motor skills than a toddler. It only takes him a few minutes and an unbent paper clip to open the catch.

And there lays the cash.

Jack signals Anne and the new guy to come help, since there's approximately a metric fuckton of it. Someone who's not Jack is going to have to practically crawl inside the desk to get it all. But they've found it, finally.

Thank Christ.

Jack starts laying bundles of cash into the bottom of his traveling case – one of those hard-sided suitcases that businessmen so love to use. And he's honestly not sure if that's going to be enough. But fortunately, the new guy had the foresight to bring a ratty backpack along and between the two bags and the three of their pockets, they get it all stowed away.

Jack texts Charles a Jolly Roger to let him know he can wrap things up with Eleanor and all that's left now is to get away clean.

Which is almost easier done than said. They walk out the door, times staggered enough that it doesn't look like they're all leaving together, and no one notices a thing. It's all very anti-climactic, honestly. The movies always make this part seem so exciting – car chases and shoot outs and etcetera. But they just walk right out the front door, completely invisible to the partiers still inside the house.

Jack leaves last, so he's only about a half block away when Charles finishes their little distraction off with a bang. They'd planned it all out – how to make it look like Eleanor had the upper hand in the breakup this time, so she wouldn't look too hard at the evening and link the theft back to Jack or Anne. How to make sure that Eleanor was left physically and emotionally satisfied enough that she never seeks Charles out for another night of fun. How to make her feel in charge and in control and like she's throwing Charles over, instead of them conning her.

And frankly, the bits Jack can hear are a masterstroke. Charles is pathetic and groveling in a way that is genuinely unappealing – but that apparently gets Eleanor's rocks off, because she's got the most self-satisfied fucking smirk on face, the one he imagines she wore the entire time Charles was in her bed. And Eleanor stands at the top of the stairs, framed by the open doorway, lauding her everything about herself over Charles as he begs her to take him back. Which she does not deign to do at all.

All the other party goers have gathered around to witness the carnage and Eleanor's not even pretending to feel sorry about making such a scene. This – this is what she's been looking for ever since Charles gave her the boot – coincidentally right before he went away on that two stretch. And she's milking her ability to get one over him in that same way for all it's fucking worth.

“We're done, Charles.”

She says it with the cold finality of a vault door swinging shut. And she sweeps back into the house, surrounded by the ranks of simpering sycophants. Leaving Charles curled into himself on the cold pavement.

[sagehaleyofficial]

HERE’S WHAT YOU MISSED THIS WEEK (4.8-4.14.20):

NEW MUSIC:

Bring Me the Horizon posted a new teaser featuring Oli Sykes and Jordan Fish bellowing unclean vocals combined with darker lyrics. In mid-March, the band announced they were working on new material, tentatively titled BMTH8.

YUNGBLUD gifted fans a new vertical video for his song “Original Me” after dropping the song last fall. The new video featuring Imagine Dragons vocalist Dan Reynolds is available to watch on YouTube.

Senses Fail recently announced they will be releasing an album of covers, recorded during the coronavirus quarantine. The band hit the studio in late February to start working on their new album, which at the time was titled Hell is in Your Head.

Machine Gun Kelly released another cover during his time in isolation due to the coronavirus pandemic, taking on a track from fellow rapper Jack Harlow. He posted a clip of him singing to “WHATS POPPIN” while on a video chat with Harlow.

After announcing the release on Twitter three days prior, Twenty One Pilots delivered a new song “Level of Concern.” “Always writing, but this one feels like it should just come out now,” frontman Tyler Joseph tweeted out.

PVRIS have unfortunately had to postpone their upcoming album Use Me due to circumstances beyond their control. The album was originally set to release on May 1st, but is now delayed until July 10th.

MxPx streamed a deluxe version of their 2018 self-titled album, which includes the full original 11-song album, four bonus tracks and five acoustic versions. In addition to this edition, vocalist Mike Herrera is participating in livestream performances. 

Man Overboard released their first new music in over five years, a new track titled “Lifeline.” The band was previously on hiatus since the release of their last record, only reuniting for special anniversary and holiday shows.

Neck Deep released the second single off their upcoming studio album, All Distortions Are Intentional, titled “When You Know.” The music video features fans from around the world, holding up pieces of paper with lyrics from the song.

A snippet of an alternative version of Blink-182’s “I Really Wish I Hated You” featuring Miley Cyrus was released online. Frontman Mark Hoppus confirmed its legitimacy on a recent Twitch stream.

FEVER 333’s Jason Butler gave fans an intimate look into his career via his 333 WRECKORDS CREW label. The label is offering demos of his former act Letlive.’s acclaimed album Fake History on a pay-what-you-want basis.

TOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS:

Pierce the Veil reunited online to perform an intimate acoustic version of their song “Hold on Till May” from the safety of their own homes. The video begins with frontman Vic Fuentes asking the other members how their quarantine is going.

OTHER NEWS:

A man in Wisconsin is reportedly suing ticket resale company StubHub for $5 million in a class-action lawsuit. The lawsuit comes after he purchased tickets to an NHL game before the coronavirus pandemic postponed the season.

Vans launched the “Foot the Bill” initiative, in which all net proceeds will go to small businesses around the country. Additionally, Tony Hawk will act as an official global brand ambassador, as well as making a pro Vert skateboarding competition.

Post Malone‘s song “Circles” is the subject of a songwriter claiming he is entitled to credit on its release. According to TMZ, Tyler Armes co-wrote and co-produced the track, and is now filing a lawsuit for his share of royalties.

In celebration of the company’s four-year anniversary, Good Dye Young is having a sitewide sale for the month of April. The line was founded by Paramore frontwoman Hayley Williams and her business partner Brian J. O’Connor in 2016.

Fans of 5 Seconds of Summer have been fighting Billboard to get the band’s latest album C A L M to the number 1 spot on their chart rankings after a shipping error lowered the numbers. Drummer Ashton Irwin later spoke out about the issue.

The copyright infringement lawsuit between Yellowcard and Juice WRLD’s estate has been put on hold until July. According to Digital Music News, the reason is due the coronavirus pandemic preventing search for an executor.

Thursday’s face masks for fans sold out in just nine seconds, giving them the ability to now create hundreds more to donate. The band worked with New Jersey organizations NJ Maskmakers and FaceMaskWarriors to make them.

Halsey is donating 100,000 FDA certified three-ply face masks to various California hospitals. She is doing this through GiveDirectly, a nonprofit organization focusing on directing cash payments to vulnerable households in at-risk communities.

My Chemical Romance frontman Gerard Way is partnering with a number of artists on the Quarantine Coloring Book. The idea spawned from Sara Taylor of Youth Code, who joined the band on vocals at their reunion show.

British shoe company Dr. Martens is rolling out a line dedicated to punk band the Sex Pistols. Two new designs were released paying tribute to the band’s groundbreaking history in the 1970s.

___

Check in next Tuesday for more “Posi Talk with Sage Haley,” only at @sagehaleyofficial!

[aquietcollectionofthings]

Vengeance //SansaxIvar// oneshot

A GoTxVikings mash-up. Ivar is King of Kattegat and Sansa has already been married off to Ramsay Bolton. One of the few things I’ve written in awhile and liked enough to post. May eventually expand further, but will certainly edit forever. --

When they found her she’d been locked away, dressed in nothing but thin, filthy, nightdress. The room was cold and empty minus the bed and furs covering it. She’d been in a corner-- not quite cowering but seemingly preparing for someone to attack her by the time he’d arrived. Despite the amused looks on the Vikings faces as they lowered their own weapons she held hers at the ready- a bloodied piece of almost sharp wood she had pried from her headboard and now clenched tightly in her fist. The blood from her hands had run in small rivers down her wrist to her elbow and had already begun to dry, the rust colored rivulets a stark contrast against her pale skin.

King Ivar and the others certainly hadn’t intended to find her, they never really expected to find people locked away, but he’d been going through some of the rooms with a few of his men and.. there she was. Practically waiting to be found. He had been one room over when they’d broken through her door at first, she’d started screaming as his men had entered the room and he had gone to find out what the commotion was about. The click of his crutch on the stone echoing loudly as he entered the now silent room.

“What’s your name?” He’d asked sharply, but she either hadn’t understood him or was refusing to answer. Trying again in what he thought may be her language, tone clipped as the word slipped from his lips, he asked her, “Name?”

After a brief moment of hesitation she’d finally responded. “Sansa” she’d said quietly, eyes to the floor while a mess of fiery red tresses hung down to hide her face. Between the dirty strands he could see the heavy bags beneath her eyes, almost purple against her fair skin. “The Lady here?” But he got no response despite what he was sure had been the right words. Settling on to the crutch tucked under his arm he looked her over curiously. As he went to approach her the movement seemed to set her off, she came at him quickly but he stopped her. She was soft, worn down from whatever she’d endured in this cage of a room, and he knocked her to the side easily with the hand not tightly gripping his crutch. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, but she had tried to stab him. It only seemed fair enough. As she hit the ground the blanket slipped away and he could see the angry tips of thick welts along her shoulders, disappearing beneath the thin and bloodied material trying to cover her. When a few of his men stepped forward he shook his head, a sharp ‘no’ cutting through the silence.

One of the men that had found her stepped forward, eyeing the seemingly wild girl splayed on the ground, “King Ivar... what do you want to do with her?” It was a good question and he searched for an answer, considering the things he’d heard in their days leading up to the attack on Winterfell. He knew the Lord had a wife, but they assumed like the others before him they would send her away, off to her family to be protected until the heathen threat had gone.  

Ivar chewed the inside his cheeks for a moment, eyeing the girl on the ground while she watched him through the safety of her hair. They appraised each other in a loaded silence, each trying to gauge just how much trouble the other might be. When the king found nothing but sadness in her eyes he tore his own away, looking past her to the bed once more. “Take her to my tent at the camp, keep her safe,” he said quietly, turning on the man after a moment to give him a serious look. “Give her your cloak and don’t let her out of your sight. Go.” Turning away from the confused looks he received he left the room, moving on to the next one. No one would be bold enough to question his motives in the moment.

-

Back at the camp Ivar rounded up a few of the thralls he’d collected along their journey- the war the Saxons were waging amongst each other had made their last couple of raids easy and they’d been blessed with several bountiful ones that season already. It made selecting the girls to tend to his guest easy, though he did choose them each for specific reasons. Two had come from within the Earl’s home of the first kingdom they’d attacked upon their arrival and had been tending to him since. The third had come from the village before they’d reached Winterfell, if there really was a language barrier he’d hoped she would be the one to overcome it.

Inside of his tent she sat beside the bed, back pressed against the edge of it as she stared at the furs beneath her feet. Taking a seat at the table a good ways away from her he waved a hand at the man at the doorway, sending him out. Pointing at the girl he’d found nearest to her city he motioned her over to Sansa, she would relate to her the most, maybe know who she was, the other two he directed to the wash basin. One went off to fetch the water while the other gathered the supplies they would need to clean her up.

Looking back to Sansa and the thrall he watched the low-born girl whispering to her, trying to coax her up, but the so-called Lady wasn’t budging. What did she think was happening? She needed to bathe, to eat, they needed answers from her— who would be looking for her, who would pay for her. Ivar slammed a fist down on the table, pitcher and glasses rattling from the motion. As the thrall returned with the first bucket of water and filled the basin Sansa finally looked up, looking from the basin, to Ivar and back to the girl kneeling in front of her. She murmured something to the slave and the girl gave her a sheepish look before crossing the room to Ivar. “Sir, your majesty...” the thrall struggled with what to say, considering her words carefully, “she’s... she’s shy, she says she doesn’t want you to see her.”

A strangled laugh worked its way out and he shook his head, “Tell her to get in the fuckin’ tub or this is the last polite thing I will do. Remind her that the only people that care she is a Lady are...” he motioned around the room as both girls watched him speak, “not here.” When the thrall hesitated he hit the table again and she hurried back across the room. He was still unsure why he was concerned with her well-being, but something was telling him he had to be.  

Ivar watched as the thrall got the other girl to her feet, shushing the protests she was whimpering out and trying to wipe the rapidly falling tears from her face. The slave girls' reassurances were falling on deaf ears, she just kept repeating the same phrase, ”He’s nice, he’s nice,” and wiping at eyes that wouldn’t stop weeping. Leading her across the room as the other two girls finished putting the bath together, the thrall paused, a hand on the other girl's back as she urged her forward, looking back to the king to see if he saw what she did. The bloodstains that scattered the back of her gown varied in color and size, from shoulder to knee, welts and lacerations still peeked from her collar. “I know,” was all he said on it, nodding at her to continue despite the girls sobbing. If it was as bad as he presumed the bath would be good for her, they’d clean her up then they would bring someone in to treat it in the morning.

It would take all three of the girls to get the gown off of her as she struggled, one of the girls going to leave to wash it. Ivar stopped her, beckoning her over to take it from her hands. He’d just begun to unfold it when he’d caught sight of her bare skin as the remaining girls helped her into the tub. His lip curled back in disgust and he looked to thrall, away from the painful sight of the girls back. “Find her a new one, something suitable to travel in,” It had been worse than he’d thought, they weren’t old, not all of them. Most were fresh, some had split in the centers of bursts of overlapping bites from whatever they had taken to her and there was no mistaking the carefully carved characters in her skin for the normally hand printed letters he had seen himself in the Christians texts. “Who?” He demanded, leaning forward in his seat as he waited expectantly for an answer.

The thrall that had gotten Sansa to the tub knelt down beside it with her now, wiping at the girl's face once more as her own eyes watered. “He wants to know who did this to you...” she whispered, reaching into the tub to pull one of the girl’s hands off her shoulders and into her own. While the king had lashed out a time or two since she’d been with them, she hadn’t seen him act out with downright cruelty, not like what was displayed on the girls back. Maybe a swat at her ass when he was drunk and a compliment in poor taste, a bit of yelling when something was done wrong, the ruthless treatment of the Christian men, but never cruel with her or the other girls.

A distressed whimper left Sansa’s lip and she leaned on to the edge of the tub, “He was supposed to be my husband,” she whispered, squeezing the thrall’s hand tightly in hers, “he was supposed to be a Lord.” From across the room Ivar could see the reaction to his guests’ words and his brow furrowed as he waited to be filled in.

“It was the Lord there,” the slave girl repeated, looking past Sansa to the King again, “His name was Bolton. Ramsay Bolton.. I knew of him before..” she shook her head, trailing off, that didn’t matter now. Focusing back on Sansa she picked up a rag, joining the other girl in tending to the woman.

Ivar stayed quiet, processing the information before collecting his crutch and rising from his chair. Disappearing out of the tent he tasked the man currently stationed at the entrance with finding out if the offender was alive or dead and few follow up instructions for either outcome. It didn’t matter that she was a Lady, not really, that didn’t guarantee anyone would pay for her, but as he took his seat back at the table and watched the bathing with a morbid curiosity he considered why he was invested. The absolute and utter cruelty behind it all? The time that was put into it? He couldn’t be sure, not quite yet. Not until he saw the man— whether it be alive or dead with his head on a spike. They’d certainly need something to leave behind for the others to find.

As the thralls started on her hair he snapped his fingers at them for their attention, watching as they paused on the knots they were working at. “Do something with it when you get her out, we’ll leave tomorrow,” he’d intended to find her people at first, bargain with them for a reward, but now he was not sure that it would be worth it— for himself or Sansa. The slave girls shared a look between each other— they had observed the customs over their few days of being around the Vikings, they knew that braids were only meant for shield maidens preparing for battle and those that were married. Did The King have a plan?

“Where are we going?” Sansa whispered from the safety of the tub to the thrall’s, arms wrapping tightly around her chest once more. “To Kattegat,” one whispered back to her, “he is the king there…” they had all glanced back at him at the mention of it and he attempted to return their stares with a soft smile, though his eyes were still narrowed and dark. A chill ran down her spine despite the warm water and she looked away, thankful to see the missing thrall returning with what looked like a fresh dress.

-

As the girls were finishing up with Sansa in the tub there was a commotion outside of the tent and Ivar had to wave a hand at the thrall’s to get them to keep moving. “Get her out of there, take her to the bed, get her dressed and finish up,” he snapped, hoisting himself up from his position in the chair and herding them to the back of the tent as they dried off his guest. In a mix of eagerness to see her attacker and a bit of desire to humor her earlier request that he not watch he turned away from them, only glancing back once to make sure they’d dressed her before calling out to the people outside. Off the table he grabbed a fairly large knife, clenching the handle tightly in his grip while they brought in his newest visitor. This one seemed to be struggling more than the other, he’d expected him to be a better sport.

At the sight of Ramsay Bolton in the flesh Ivar couldn’t help but sneer, he’d seen the man fighting, spotted him across the field before he’d retreated to the castle. In comparison to the beginning of his day he looked as though he were from a different life— blood matted his hair to the sides of his head, an eye had swollen shut and he’d been stripped to almost nothing; no sword to save him, no armor to protect him, no tunic to cover him. He had been tough, but not smart enough to get away and Ivar intended to make him regret all the wrong decisions he’d made.

“Put him on the ground, I want to see his back,” the king instructed and the two men that had brought him flattened him to the ground. One held his hands while the other held his feet, the prisoner cursing to himself as he refused to look at any of them. With another glance over his shoulder at Sansa and the thrall’s he turned back to Ramsay, tossing the crutch aside and using the table to lower himself to the ground, knife still firmly in hand as he focused back on the task at hand. On his stomach Ivar crawled the distance between himself and Ramsay, bringing himself face to face with the so-called Lord as the girls stopped their braiding to watch him. A wicked smile twisted his lips as he poked at the man's swollen face with the sharp tip of his knife, barely eliciting a squeal from him. “This is on behalf of the Lady,” he told the room, the tip of the knife poking a cheek once more, drawing a fat dab of blood this time as the two men locked eyes. With his free hand he grasped a handful of the offending man's hair, turning his head and pressing a cheek against the ground so he had no choice but to look at Sansa in the bed. One of the thrall’s was trying not to watch, fingers working quickly as she began to braid back the bulk of Sansa’s fine hair, but even she couldn’t help but peek.

Sansa was crying again, though even she wasn’t sure as to why. Her face was numb, brain simultaneously overwhelmed with emotions and void of them as she tried to decide how she felt. Ramsay had been no prize-- the time leading up to their marriage had been just as bad if not worse… and of course he deserved to die. Or whatever it was that was happening before her, but who was this King? It was enough to assume they were the Vikings she’d heard about, there’d been plenty of shouting about it when they’d arrived... but why take care of her? All the men in her life so far had used her for something, hadn’t they? He’d be expecting something in return, she knew that much. The idea alone made her tremble and in return a thrall draped her in furs as they all watched the display, mistaking her fear for a chill.

On the ground Ivar had moved his body away from the man’s face, making sure he had a clear view of the girls in the bed as he set to work. From the base of his neck to the far edge of each shoulder he drug the blade down and across the man’s back, a thick line of blood bubbling up from each sect of split skin as the knife punctured it. Then, from the same starting point as the others, he carved out a line right along the spine to form a large Teiwaz rune. It seemed only fitting, all things considered.  

Silent for the most part since he’d been brought into the tent Ramsay was trying to restrain himself, but there’d be no fooling his captors. Despite his already battered appearance his one almost good eye had squeezed tightly shut and he was clenching his jaw so hard it was turning the unbruised parts of his pale face a deep shade of crimson. When he wasn’t holding it he was sucking in shaky breaths, body and limbs rattling with effort. Ivar had expected a bit more dramatics from him, he found men that consistently chose women as their victims were never quite as tough as they seemed. Reaching to the man’s face he pried the good eye open and miraculously it stayed while the other seemed to leak an endless stream of bloody tears.

Unsatisfied with the reaction he was getting the king stuck the tip of the knife into the man’s side, giving it a sharp twist as he did so to draw the perfect squeal out of his victim. One of the girls on the bed— he wasn't sure which— sucked in a sharp breath, another stifled a shriek. Their reactions seemed to snap something in the man beneath his blade and he struggled against the men restraining him despite their superior size and strength, cursing at them as he did so.

That was more like it…

-

Once Ivar had his fill— long after there was no more usable canvas left—  he’d had the man taken away. While there wasn’t much left of Ramsay, there’d be less before the night was over as his wounds steadily leaked blood. He’d sent the two men away with explicit instructions on what came next for his work of art. They wouldn’t outright kill him just yet, suffering seemed appropriate, should he make it to the morning they would kill him and do something to set him on display for whoever came upon the castle next. Deciding just what would be the difficult part. For now they would keep an eye on him, try to keep him awake and miserable if they could.  

With just himself and the girls left in the tent he turned to them from his spot on the floor, bloody knife still tight in his grip. “One of you come here, clean me up,” he ordered, dragging himself back to the chair at the table. After he was seated he wiped the blade on his sleeve and tossed it onto the table, looking at the remaining girls on the bed but never breaking focus from Sansa’s horrified expression he sighed, his own expression neutral. While he’d gotten carried away, that hadn’t been quite the reaction he’d hoped to get from her. He finally looked away as the thrall set a large bowl of water on the table and helped him strip his top layers away. After draping the clothing across another chair she began to wipe down his bloodied face as he rinsed his hands and arms before leaning forward in the chair so she could move on to his neck and decorated shoulders.  

Being exposed to brutality was not new for Sansa, certainly. If the man only knew the extent of what she’d seen and endured maybe they would better understand each other, but she wasn’t sure she could share those details with him- or anyone. Not yet. Instead she watched from the current safety of the bed as he was tended to, enjoying the change of roles for a brief moment before the nervousness set in. The girls had finished up on her hair but the two he hadn’t summoned remained on the bed with her, smoothing out the baby hairs along her crown and adjusting the soft dress they’d found for her. It had come out of a chest taken from the first Earl’s home, something they’d taken out of one of the ladie’s rooms that had been left behind. It was soft, colored a deep purple and would only be suitable for the night. In the morning they would have to bring her a new one and find her a cloak if she stood any chance of holding up against the wind on the water when they set sail. It had been refreshing to be in something other than what she had been, but she was unsure if it was a sign of what was to come or not.

Finally free of the blood and sweat that had coated his skin the thrall brought Ivar something to dry his face before clearing the mess away. Taking the crutch under his arm once more he rose from the chair, waving the remaining girls away from the bed as he made his way over and took a seat on the edge, back to Sansa as he laid down the crutch and began on the braces secured to his legs. One of the girls had lingered, moving towards him to offer help with the contraptions, but he shot her a dark look- she blew out all the candles but the one beside him and left the two alone instead.

With the others gone a silence fell over the room, the only sounds filling it the quiet grunts escaping Ivar as he worked the braces off. The day had been easy enough, the pain no better and no worse than usual, and he silently thanked The Gods for that. He was still unsure why he’d brought the girl back with him, why he intended to take her back to Kattegat, but he felt as though they knew something about it as well and thanked them for her too. There were other places she could have stayed, with the thrall’s or in a tent of her own even, but something told him she wouldn’t be safe. Her status and state when they found her marked her as an easy target, he knew that. He knew better than that. If anything were to happen to her he would feel obligated now, having taken her out of one situation to bring her into a worse one.

Braces discarded to the side he let out a heavy sigh, happy to be out of them despite the sense of normalcy they brought him on a daily basis. It had been easy enough to get out of them that night, The Gods must have been listening to him. Though while he wasn’t expecting anything out of their night together, Sansa seemed to be convinced he did as she scooted herself to the far edge of the bed. With his pants still on he folded back the furs covering his side of the bed and lifted his legs in, one by one, before laying the furs over them and settling back against the pillows. Patting the spot next to him he cleared his throat, “It is okay…” he whispered, “you are safe. He can not hurt you anymore,” he had made sure of that.  

Sansa had flinched at his words, but looked over at him nonetheless. “What will you do with him?” The question was quiet, murmured down at the bed as she couldn’t bring herself to look her apparent savior in the eyes just yet.

Raising a questioning brow at her he patted the spot again before holding out a hand to her, waiting for her to take it and come closer to him before answering her question. He folded back a few of the furs for her to climb underneath, making sure to keep his own legs carefully swaddled. She took his hand, closing the space between them before pulling her hand back to her lap. While she let him cover her she stayed upright, not sitting back against the pillows just yet. When she finally met his eyes he began to speak, “We will put his head on a spike, left out front for the next men to find. To let them know what happened there. It is almost what he deserves…” though simultaneously too good for him at the same time. What he had done to her was uncalled for, no matter the imagined crime he was sure the man had justified it with- because certainly there had to be a reason for something so cruel. The silence was back, Sansa had broken their eye contact and focused on the fur in her lap, fingers running through it for a moment. Finally looking up at him she sighed, steeling herself and setting her face to keep the tears that threatened to spill again from coming out, “You should feed him to his dogs,” she told him, voice cracking as she settled back against the pillows beside him and leaning into his chest. Ivar wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer as she tucked into the nook that was formed. “That’s what he deserves,” she muttered, turning her face into his shoulder as the tears broke though.

He settled his cheek against the top of her head and sighed, eyes slipping close in the comfort of the moment. This is all he had really wanted out of the night, the closeness. Of all people he understood her desire to not be seen, the feelings of being disfigured, and for that he wanted to protect her.

“Then that’s what he’ll get…”

Fin.      

[kodzuskook]

shipped | jeff wittek

description: the reader and jeff get to know each other and david puts their interaction in the vlog causing the fans to go crazy.

requested?: [ @itsdavydorbik “can i request an imagine w/ Jeff and you are part of the VS but you’re the girl that’s never seemed interested in a guy but Jeff comes along and that changes and everyone starts shipping you together?”]

author’s note: just wanna say a quick thanks to the user for letting me take this request off of @zanesgirlfriend’s hands!! i hope i did it some justice!!

﹉﹊﹉﹊﹉﹊﹉﹊﹉﹊﹉﹊ “okay so last time we did this, we all talked about our relationships and advice. this time, we have y/n with us so to compensate for her missed appearance in the vlog, y/n’ll tell us a bit about her experience in relationships and stuff like that.” erin smiled at you as she finished explaining the situation to the camera.

all the girls had gathered together again to film another part of the new vlog squad girls series. this time, the girls sat in your apartment, filling the space of your living room. again, natalie was missed from the video because david needed her for something last minute. 

an assortment of snacks were arranged on your coffee table, liza’s hand quickly reaching over to grab a bag of popcorn, “damn, y/n, this is really good popcorn.”

“right!” you laughed before looking at the camera, “i’m y/n, i’ve been a part of the vlog squad for a while now?” a series of nods followed through the girls, “i’m not dating anyone at the moment. i think my last relationship was about,” you squinted, “eight? nine months ago?”

carly sat up from where she was leaning, “ooo, tea. let’s hear about it.”

you shrugged, “he was kinda just really full of himself and it always felt like the relationship was about him and not me? i just wish i could’ve told myself earlier that there was no way that he would change for me and that i should really stop wasting my time waiting for it to happen.”

mariah looked over at you, “how long were you with him?”

you shook your head, “at least, like, six and a half months.” you heard a few sounds of disapproval, “and it sucks because on our six month anniversary, he literally didn’t do anything. he just brushed over it and went out with friends.”

you looked over at the camera, “don’t ever date a boy who acts like he’s too good for you and never puts you first. and i don’t mean that you have to be his top priority at all times, but make sure that he shows he cares for you in instances that he should already be caring for you.”

kristin gave you a high five, “totally, i get that and i respect that.” 

corinna smirked, “so, any hot guys in your life?” she laughed, “the vlog squad boys can count too, if you want them to.”

you raised a brow at her question, shaking your head in disagreement.

“so no guys you’ve got your eye on?” erin asked this time.

you felt like you were in a cliche sleepover, just with the addition of a camera recording your every word and action. you laughed and shook your head, “nah, not really.”

carly leaned closer, at this rate you felt like she’d fall off the couch if another juicy question was asked, “not even jeff?”

you shrugged, “i don’t even know him that well.”

kristin shoved your shoulder lightly from behind, “so what you’re saying is that if you knew him better..” she trailed off.

you laughed, “no, i don’t know! shut up, please!”

carly finally sat back in her seat, “do you at least find him attractive?”

“i think that’s an obvious answer. he’s attractive. literally everyone knows that.”

the girls quietly agreed, moving on from questions about jeff and onto more pressing matters, “what’s your favourite colour?”

***

the next day, you found yourself laying on david’s couch, the man of the house being outside recording some shots for his vlog. carly and erin had uploaded the video early this morning, claiming that the video didn’t have much to edit out except for long mukbang-esque clips of them eating popcorn and chips silently. you had laughed when carly told you.

“hey.”

you looked up from your phone to meet eyes with jeff. you pushed yourself up, “hi!”

he gave you a smirk, “so, i watched carly and erin’s video.”

you smiled, “did you?”

jeff sat down next to you, “well, i mean, i didn’t plan on–no offence–but i kept gettin’ tweets to watch for what you said and so i did.”

you groaned, “i’m not gonna feed your ego, wittek.”

he let out a laugh, “you got jokes, y/l/n.”

you cocked your head to the side, “you got balls.”

jeff smirked, “yeah, wanna see them?”

you groaned, swatting his arm as he laughed again.

jeff leaned his head back, “so, why not do it?”

you looked at him oddly, “excuse me?”

his eyes widened, “fuck, no, i meant like the video.”

you nodded your head, unconvinced. jeff noticed and gave you a playful shove, “about gettin’ to know each other, y/n. get ya mind outta the gutter.”

you shrugged, “sure, why not.”

the two of you sat criss-cross, facing each other on the couch, talking about anything and everything. you laughed as he told you about his brief and ‘dumb as shit’ acting career, grabbing your phone and instantly searching up his name. he noticed your screen loading and grabbed your phone from your hands, exclaiming on how it wasn’t something to be seen. you two calmed down after that, going back to talking about anything that came on your mind. unknowing to the two of you, david had walked back into his living room and had recorded a good portion of your interaction.

***

“--terally all your comments are about jeff and y/n.” you caught the end of matt’s voice as you entered david’s house. the boy had texted the group chat to come over as soon as possible, to start filming for his next vlog.

“comments about jeff and i on what?” you asked, slipping off your shoes before curling into david’s love sac. you were still tired from the late night before and had texted jeff to bring you an iced coffee on the way to david’s.

david gave you a glare, “my latest vlog. you’d know if you watched my videos and supported me like a real friend.”

matt let out a classic ‘ooooooh’s and you gave david a look, “david, you post at five in the morning. i can’t just wake up to watch them.”

david stuck his tongue out at you, “anyway, all the comments are asking whether you and jeff are together or not and how they ship you two a lot.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, “but david, we weren’t even in your vlog.”

david sheepishly smiled. you groaned and threw your head back. the sound of david’s front door opening sounded through the house, zane’s chatter instantly replacing the quietness of the house.

jeff smiled as he laid eyes on you all curled up on the love sac. he walked over to you and handed you your coffee. you smiled and leaned to the side, offering jeff the other half of the love sac. he plopped down next to you and smiled at the boys sitting across from him.

“...the fans might just be right.” you grabbed a pillow from the side and threw it at david’s head.

“right ‘bout what?” jeff looked confused.

“not--”

“david put a few seconds of you two talking yesterday in his vlog and all the fans are commenting about how they think you guys are a couple, might be a couple, or should be a couple.” matt listed off.

zane smiled as he read a few comments on the laptop, “y’all bein’ shipped, babyyy! hashtag otp.” he sucked on his straw, wiggling his brows at you and jeff.

this time it was you who stuck your tongue out, “shut up, zane. we’re not even dating.”

the three boys on the couch rolled their eyes and went back to waiting for the rest of the vlog squad to arrive.

jeff looked over at you, “does it bother you? the shipping thing?”

you took a sip of your coffee, “no, not really. does it bother you?”

“i wouldn’t have come up to you yesterday if it did.”

[dearlydreadful]

BTS Reactions

Scenario Requested: Reacting to their S/O being a famous youtuber/influencer as well as reacting to their fandom loving and supporting their relationship.

my favorite is taehyung

Jungkook

You bit your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend’s face closely, waiting for any little signal. His expression was blank, giving you no reassurance. He was staring at his hands on top of the table.

You and Jungkook had been dating for several months. Initially, you had kept your gamer youtube fame a secret. You didn’t think it mattered much. Then the months started to fly by and you got deeper and deeper into the relationship. Guilt started to eat at you. You knew you had to tell him.

But now you were left with silence.

Jungkook hadn’t said a word since you explained yourself. You didn’t know what you could say to make it better, either. All you could do was wait for him to process it and watch his beautiful face be stone cold.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.” His angry voice startled you, causing you to jump a little.

“I-,” you didn’t have a reason to give him. You should have told him sooner. 

Your hesitation seems to upset him more. “Did you not trust me?”

“No! That’s not what happened. I just - I didn’t.” You worry that finishing that sentence will push him over the edge. 

“You didn’t what? Think it mattered? You thought I was just dumb enough to not care?”

Your mouth fell open. Your eyes start to burn as a lump formed in your throat. “We weren’t official in the beginning so I didn’t think it mattered. Things just happened quickly and I didn’t know when I should've told you. I’m sorry.” you said, as a little sob escaped you.

Jungkook’s warm hand cups your cheek, pulling your face upward so you have to look at him again. His expression has softened, eyes growing warm and inviting again.

He frowns. “Don’t cry, Jagi. I can understand your reasoning. I just - it hurts to think you would ever keep something from me or that you would be scared to talk to me. I want to be the person you can always come to and depend on.”

“I’m so sorry for making you feel like that. I promise it’s not true. I love you Jungkook, and I want to share everything about my life with you.” A few tears slipped out. 

“Shhh. It’s okay Jagi, I love you too. We’re gonna talk this out and we’ll be just fine.” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek. “Now why don’t you show me a few of your videos? I wanna see if your good enough to beat me.” He chuckled and you could already feel the weight being lifted off your chest from seeing him smile.

“I’m not very good at them. But that’s kind of the point. People find me funny.”

Jungkook tilted his head back and laughed. It made you smile. “Of course you are, my love.”

Taehyung

You stopped in the middle of the kitchen, placing your hands on your hips and raising both of your eyebrows. You stared your boyfriend down.

“Why did you stop cooking, Jagi?” He widened his eyes innocently. You both knew he was anything but innocent.

After four months of dating, you had decided it was time to confess to Taehyung about what you did. You explained and let him watch a few episodes of your cooking channel. He said he fully supported you and loved how quirky you were in the kitchen.

He only had one request.

He begged you to let him be in an episode. You were unsure at first, knowing that his fans could start chaos quickly. But you pushed those thoughts aside and agreed. What could be more fun than doing your favorite thing in the world, cooking, with your favorite person in the world, Taehyung?

You should’ve known better.

“You know exactly why, Tae!” You kept your voice stern even as he pouted at you. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m going to have absolutely no footage to post after editing it all out!”

You had been in the kitchen for a good 30 minutes now. Just about every 3 or so, Taehyung would make an effort to touch you somehow. It started with just brushing hands by picking up the same item. Then it escalated to placing his hands on your hips to move you. The one that had been the last straw was a firm squeeze to your bum. It was like he didn’t even care that you were on camera.

He huffed. “Jagi!”

“Taehyung!” You huffed right back at him. He wrinkled his nose up but then sighed.

“I’m sorry, Jagi. I just can’t help it! I keep thinking about all the people that will watch this when you post it. Do you know how many male viewers you have? I’m sure it’s a ton. I just want to make sure everyone knows that you're mine.”

“The episode it literally called ‘Letting my boyfriend in the kitchen’. I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re a thing.”

He pouted, making your resolve break.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He perked up. “If you behave for the rest of filming, I’ll leave a clip of us kissing in the video. An innocent kiss!” You added the last bit as his expression went immediately mischievous.

He gave you his classic boxy smile that made your knees weak. “I promise, Jagi. Thank you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come kiss me, you fool.”

Jimin

You weren’t sure how you felt about going public with your relationship with Jimin. It was hard enough to break the news to him about your youtube channel, where you posted covers and some original music, but the first thing he had wanted to do once he found out was to tell his fans.

A smile crept onto your face as you watched Jimin tell his fans in a vlive that he had big news. He was telling Army how much he loved them and that would never change, but he was also in love with someone else. Your insides went gooey.

He was going on about how talented and beautiful you were, being his perfect fit. He soon beckoned you over. You took a deep breath before joining him in the camera frame and gave a slight wave.

It only took a few seconds before the comments started pouring in. You were surprised but elated that almost all of them were positive. You looked at Jimin and your heartbeat stuttered. He had your favorite smile on. The smile that made his eyes crinkle almost closed and dimples to appear. You pressed your face into his shoulder to keep the camera from seeing how red your face went.

Jimin chuckled and placed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Jagi, we should’ve done this ages ago!”

Namjoon

You held your breath as you watched Namjoon scroll through your instagram. Of course he had seen your normal day-to-day instagram, but this was different. This was a part of your travel blog, your baby.

You were hoping that with as much as Namjoon traveled, he would be spooked by it. Most guys tend to get that way. Something about all the places you’ve been and adventure you’ve had just scared them. They never understood that there was so much you hadn’t been able to do yet.

You chewed on your bottom lip as Namjoon set the phone down on the bed, turning towards you. The silence ticked by, slowly killing you.

“You’ve been to so many incredible places.” He started and your stomach sank. You’ve heard that sentence before, and It’s never ended well.

You sighed and dropped your gaze to your hands.

“I am so happy that we have the same love for the world and seeing every inch of it.” Your head snapped up to see him smiling at you. “I can’t believe I finally found someone who can enjoy traveling with me.”

“You want to travel with me?” You asked, jus to be sure.

Namjoon chuckled. “I would fucking love to travel with you, Y/N.” Your heart fluttered. “Just like I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, Joon.” You let your head fall onto his shoulder. You felt warm and like you were floating. You had been so nervous about showing him, but he only loved you more for chasing your dreams.

Hoseok

You had told Hoseok about your main source of income early on in your relationship. He had absolutely loved watching your videos while you edited them. His favorite part was making comments off camera to crack you up while you were recording. You always added the little snippets of your laugh into the final edit and it would just fill him with such pride.

You watched as Hoseok paced in front of you. He wasn’t the normal ball of sunshine today for you. Instead, he was a nervous wreck. After several discussions with Big Hit, everyone had finally agreed it would be acceptable to release the news of your relationship. Hoseok was having a panic attack about his fan’s reactions.

He loved Army so much, but he loved you too. You hated seeing how torn and flustered he was. You just wanted to hug him until he turned back into his usual chipper self.

“Hobi, will you please come sit down with me?” You whined, hoping it would help convince him.

He looked over with his lips pursed. You melted as his dimples popped out.

“It’s going to be okay. No matter how they take the news, we’re going to make it, okay?” You tried to reassure him but it didn’t do any good.

Hoseok sighed and slumped down beside you. “I mean, I know we’ll be okay. But I still want them to be happy for us, you know?”

“I know, Jagi.” You ran your hand through his hair and smiled as a little blush crept over his cheeks at the nickname. “Why don’t you go ahead and check twitter? I’m sure some kind of news has circulated on there already. Let’s just rip it off like a bandaid.”

Hoseok had his phone out before you could blink. He searched his own name on twitter which you could only smirk at. Posts flooded the page.

OMG LOOK HOW CUTE HOSEOK AND Y/N ARE

Thank you @BigHit for letting Hobi have his happiness with Y/N

Y/N is the angel Hoseok deserves!!

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so big. When Hoseok’s warm brown eyes met yours, your heart thumped hard.

“They love us!” He cheered. You barely had a second to cherish the moment with just the two of you before he was up and running off to scream at the other boys. He went running down the hall screaming the same sentence over and over. You hugged yourself as you thought the same sentence. They love us.

Yoongi

“Y/N!” You jumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s yell. He rarely raised his voice and with the added tension in his tone, it put you on edge.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong!” Your pitch was high as you stood up from the table. You didn’t have to wait to get your answer.

Yoongi came bustling into the room. His eyes were wide and he was panting. Terror took over your body. This was certainly odd behavior for your normally peaceful and carefree boyfriend.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” You eyed him up and down, but there was nothing that immediately stood out as wrong. Yoongi held his phone out toward you, piquing your confusion. “What,” the rest of your question died as your mouth went dry.

Yoongi had a youtube video pulled up on his phone. It was the one you had posted only a few days ago. Your eyes met his and you can only imagine your expression turned into a grimace. 

“When exactly were you going to tell me?” Yoongi took his phone back once he saw the recognition in your eyes. He tossed it onto the table.

“I … don’t know.” The truth was you weren’t really planning on telling him. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or wanted it to be a secret. It just didn’t seem important to you.

“You don’t know!” His voice got louder as he turned away from you and pulled at his hair. “Do you even know how long I’ve been following your podcast? I’ve been listening to every episode since you started! And now! Now you’ve made a youtube and I finally get to see your face and it’s you! I’m dating my own idol!”

You blinked. “Idol?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “The way you dissect producers and artists is incredible. Of course you’re an idol to me!”

Your brain is mush while you try to take in all the words Yoongi is yelling. “You - you’ve been listening to me this whole time?”

“Yes!” He threw his hands up. “That’s why I’m freaking out!”

You giggled.

“Oh my god. We’re dating!” Yoongi quickly covered his mouth. A high pitched squeal erupted from him. Your chest swelled at how happy he was and how proud he was of you.

Seokjin

You were so nervous. You had been dating Seokjin for months now, but you had yet to tell him the truth about your youtube channel. Mostly because you were terrified how he would handle the news. He’s worldwide handsome, an international idol, but you were famous in your own right. What if he decided he didn’t want to continue dating you because he wanted someone lowkey?

You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans. You loved Seokjin, even though you hadn't told him that yet either. He meant more to you than you had ever imagined. You had invited him for a nice dinner at home, not wanting to make a scene in public, good or bad.

“Jagi, I’m home!” You absolutely melted at the sound of Seokjin calling your apartment home.

“Come sit down!” You clasp your hands together to keep them from fidgeting. Your smile brightened as Seokjin’s head poked around the corner.

“Oh my god! You made me dinner! This looks delicious.” Seokjin quickly came in and gave a tender kiss to your temple before sitting down across from you.

“There’s something I want to show you, before we eat.” You licked your lips and took a deep breath. “You know how I told you I love to dance and I go to the studio all the time?”

“Of course.” Seokjin nodded enthusiastically. “Are you finally going to let me come watch you?” He teased with a chuckle. You chuckled a little too.

“Well, I actually record a lot of my sessions and put them on youtube.”

“Oh really?! Can we watch one?”

You nodded as you pulled your phone out. You picked one of your personal favorite choreo’s and handed the phone to Seokjin.

You watched Seokjin while he watched you. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open a little. You felt the pride swell a little at how impressed he seemed to be with your moves. It wasn’t until he turned your phone back right side up that your nerves came back. You watched as he processed all the comments and views on the video.

“This is incredible, Jagi. You could get really famous with these.”

You hesitantly smiled. “I kind of am.”

His eyebrows rose as he clicked to see the overall channel stats. His mouth fell open again. “Jagi!”

You went straight into panic mode. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you! At first, I didn’t know how to. And then I was scared it would scare you away. I’m still scared I’ll scare you away.”

You stopped rambling as Seokjin’s laugh burst your bubble. “You’re so silly, Jagi. How could you ever scare me away? If anything, I’m even more amazed by you. This is incredible that you’ve done this all on your own. I would be surprised if someone doesn’t try to sign you soon.”

“Really? You’re not scared or mad at me?”

Seokjin reached over to hold your hand. “I think this is a great opportunity to confess something I’ve kept in for a while now.” His genuine smile and squeeze to your hand melted your heart. “I love you Jagi, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest swelled as tears collected in your eyes. “I love you too.”

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

A Tale of Two Valentines (Part I)

Although we’re four months past this occasion, I still want to share this post with you at this time that we’re searching for more love, care, and support. 

Here’s Johnny looking like the ultimate boyfriend material (well, isn’t he always?)  in this edited screenshot. This should give you a clue of what this piece is going to be about!

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

Summary: If you saw the photo, then it should be obvious that this story was inspired by this clip that came from this video. How could I not write anything about it when it’s begging for it? 

POV: 2nd person since this is one of the first Johnny-centric fics I’ve written last year. 

Word count: 1,300 + words 

Warning: Every day is a fluffy and cheesy occasion for me, so I’m not sparing Valentine’s Day from this combo. 

–––

You could care less for Valentine’s Day. Not because you were single but because it’s overrated. People always make it seem like a day for couples when it could be a day for everyone you love – family and pets included.

As you buried yourself deeper into the comforter, you scrolled through your social media feeds and grumbled at how everyone seemed in love with one another.

You had the itch to leave a sarcastic remark on one of your friend’s posts until your phone rang. According to your screen, John was FaceTime-ing you. Do I know of a John? was the first thing in your mind until you remembered that one of your best friends, Johnny Suh, tampered with your phone the other day. Of course, he’s John, duh, you rolled your eyes at your stupidity and clicked the green call button.

“Hey,” you started, your voice still rough from the night before. You were up late drinking with your girlfriends as your celebration of Galentine’s Day (thank you, Leslie Knope).

“Hey, what are you doing?” Johnny asked, who was wearing a white shirt with a plaid coat on top. The background he was in seemed familiar, and your eyes widened when you finally recognized it.

“I’m right in front of your house, come on,” he said, taking a quick look at the background behind him. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he then showed you the cup of coffee he was drinking, “I’ve got some coffee.”

It was his favorite – iced Americano. That drink suited him well: he’s chill as ice, and he’s more American than Korean.

“Uh, but I’m still in my pajamas, dude,” you muttered, glancing at your cupid cow-printed set.

“It’s fine, whatever,” he said with a smile, “the weather’s really great too. Come on, come out. ”

You groaned in response, slowly taking off the comforter. “Okay, I’ll be right here,” were the last words he said until he hung up.

It took you half an hour to prepare, and you felt rushed. Usually, you took an hour to an hour and a half to make yourself presentable. Since you didn’t want Johnny to wait outside that long, you decided to wear a simple dress and your favorite pair of sneakers. You had light makeup on, and you decided to let your curls loose. If you put in more effort, it might feel like you two are on a date when it’s just a simple invitation to hang out.

As you descended the stairs, you saw that he was comfortably sitting on your couch. “Who let you in?” You asked, forgetting your proper greetings.

“Uh, I let myself in. I have a copy of your house keys, remember?” he said, shaking a keychain filled with a dozen other keys. “And it was starting to warm up outside. I don’t want my outfit to go to waste.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, and he ran a hand through his hair with a sheepish grin on his face. “Well, Mr. Suh, thank you for getting me out of my house on this fine Valentine’s day,” you curtsied.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Park, and oh,” he reached over the side table and held another cup of coffee. “This is yours.” He stood up now and handed you the warm beverage.

You took a sip and made a face. “Hey, this isn’t my usual order,” you said as you took another sip again. “I ordered Café Mocha for a change, dear. White Chocolate Mocha is too sweet.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and you scoffed in response.

“And your choice of coffee is like drinking tar,” You eyed at his iced Americano, which was about to be empty.

“Can’t we just agree to disagree? Or else I’m going to ask you to pay for your drink.”  

You flipped the bird on him, and he just laughed. “Okay, but seriously. Let’s go. Have a walk outside with our coffee.” He offered his hand, which you took without any hesitation.

As both of you walked towards the park, you noticed other people celebrating Valentine’s Day in their special way. Some couples were outdoing each other on how they will make their partners happy, while some looked like they were having fun just in each other’s presence.

You couldn’t help but smile at these people in love. You felt your ice heart melt at the joy they were radiating. But when your mind had to remind you that you did not have a special someone, you frowned. Yeah, I’m a single lady walking at the park while drinking coffee. I’m with my best friend, who is one of the most handsome people I’ve ever met…You looked at the man walking beside you, whose facial expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Everything okay, John?” Dang, you weren’t used to calling him that.

“Yeah. It’s just that…I feel happy that everyone’s in love and all, but it had to remind me that I’m a single male.”

Both of you were thinking of the same thing, and you could only widen your eyes in response. “You know, I’ve been thinking of the same thing.”

“Seriously?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe you two are destined to be best friends…or even something more.

“I mean, I am happy that the people here are all lovey-dovey, but I want some action too, you know?” You started rambling, eyes focused in front of you while your hands moved animatedly all over the place.

You didn’t see the smile forming on Johnny’s face, which could be interpreted as sheer joy or total mischief.

He cut off your babbling by grabbing your wrist that wasn’t holding your near-empty coffee. He pulled you towards him and wrapped an arm around your waist. You were about to protest, but his breathy voice got to you.

“Why don’t we pretend we’re a couple today? If you’re up to that, of course.”

You looked up at him and saw that both his cheeks and ears were red. His eyes bore into you, expecting your answer.

“Very funny, Johnny. But if you insist…well, people always thought we were a couple anyway!” You were laughing at how people assumed you two were an item since you were quite touchy with each other. Your hands slipped into his, and he squeezed it gently.

“Well, we could make it happen if we wanted to. But it looks like I’m not your type,” he pouted.

You felt your cheeks flame with his admission. If you only knew…

“Did I say who my type was? I can’t recall,” you said, eyes wandering to the clear blue sky.

“I’m just messing with you, dear,” Johnny squeezed your hand again. “How about we grab something to eat? Are you craving for something?”

You put a hand on your belly and rubbed it, hoping it will give you an answer. “How about quesadillas? Or burritos? Mexican food sounds good to me!”

“Por supuesto, mi señorita!” He replied in Spanish, making you thwack him on the shoulder. Deep inside, you swooned at how sexy he sounded whenever he spoke in another language other than English and Korean.

“Gracias! Vamos a comer, porque tengo mucha hambre,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter. It was one phrase that your aunt taught you that you will never forget, as it perfectly sums up your personality.

He wasn’t able to hold it in – he guffawed in public while still holding your hand. It took some time for you to settle down, and when you did, your hands were still intertwined.

“Taco Bell?” He asked, his tone playful.

“Yeah, I’m fine with Taco Bell.” He snickered at your answer and broke away from his hold on you. For a moment, you missed the warmth of his hand, but then it found its way around your waist.

Both of you walked towards the nearest Taco Bell, his hand on your waist and your head on his shoulder.

Now you could care more about Valentine’s Day, even if it’s just for today.

–––

FIN