#but now it's actually lots of careful planning and repeating and even every millisecond is important!!!

[mcrmadness]

I think people in the internet take everything for granted nowadays. I mean, we see so much content of all types of media online nowadays that we don’t even stop to think what’s behind there, which means we don’t stop to appreciate the hard work that was put in everything. Still people feel the need to call out anyone who does anything too “lazily” or sloppily, but when a work is well done, hardly anyones feels the need to say anything aloud. Because that’s just how it’s in the internet nowadays, why should we appreciate and praise each other?

As a “content creator” of many mediums (mainly videos, visual arts and sometimes gifs), this is extrtemely frustrating. I don’t think people know how much time and effort and love people can put into their art, be it videos, drawings/paintings, gifs, music... almost everyone’s doing one or more of those things nowadays and there’s also lots of programs that basically do everything for you so you don’t need to do much than just come up with the idea. Youtube is full of videos and new ones are uploaded so many every day.

So it feels... well very much waste of time. When you use hours and days, sometimes weeks for something you create and then people don’t really even interact with it, at least don’t leave any feedback, because it’s just one creation among billions and billions of others in the internet.

I’m sure I probably would not understand this if I wasn’t creative myself. But for example when I make a video... I don’t know how all those youtubers can sometimes get three or more videos out in a WEEK when I can get 2 videos out maybe in a year - if I’m lucky. It’s mainly because editing just one 10-20min video takes weeks from me. Sure if I made it into a habit, it maybe would be much faster for me too but at the same time - I really enjoy doing very very detailed work and I enjoy every second I use for my videos, even if there’s not too many of them. So everytime I post a video somewhere, it just is such an anticlimax to then realize that everyone is probably comparing my videos to the billions of other videos they have seen. And I’m only comparing my videos to my earlier videos. They might not be as good as what others make, but I put so much effort in the details and it just feels so stupid when I feel that people take every detail for granted and don’t even notice them because they don’t know it was something I had never done before .

Nowadays I always look at everything from the point of view of the creator. I watch a video and I think the filming, the editing process... all that jazz. I watch a movie and I just keep thinking about everything that goes behind the scenes, from the idea to the special effects (which is why I value actual hand-made special effects over CGI and I love 80s movies for that). When I see paintings or drawings, I just think about how they maybe were done, how the person starts, how do they sketch, what they use to make the art piece into what it becomes. I find it extremely fascinating to think about creative stuff to deeper than what’s the surface. Lately I was so hyperfixated on art related youtube videos that it opened my eyes and now I see paintings in so different light compared to when I before didn’t care about paintings at all just because I myself never got along with painting. (And I had to do that A LOT as a kid because of school and art school hobby...)

Maybe it’s just me and my extremely curious nature and my need to know everything. My question to everything has always been HOW instead of WHAT. Even in horse groom school my teacher told me he won’t explain me something because it will go “too far” and more like veterinary kind of knowledge. But I wouldn’t have minded! I found that info fascinating (sadly he refused to explain anything of that to me) because I wanted to know HOW horses work, anatomically speaking. The reason I continued to horse training studies was because I know some people are perfectly happy when they are just told what to do and then they do that. I wanted to know more, I wanted to know why we do what we do (as horse grooms) and I wanted to know how does a trainer decide what we should do.

This got a bit long but it’s okay to reblog if you really feel like to.

[knchins]

Courage - Tendou Satori

Summary: Tendou Satori has been turned down by every person he’s ever asked out. Now he’s hoping that’ll change when his eyes set on you.

Pairing: Tendou x GN!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.1k

HQWK Prompt: Favorite Character

Warnings: Slight angst (but with a happy ending!), Mentions of bullying

Notes: Haikyuu!! Week 2020 is finally here! This is my submission for day one! Feel free to check out @haikyuuweek2020​ for other entries for today’s prompt!

 Satori was used to rejection. He had faced it his entire life. His looks, his personality, his reputation all made him unlovable. Even some of his teammates thought he was a clown-looking weirdo and didn’t want anything to do with him outside of club activities. He supposed he couldn’t fault them for that, all his life he’d been called a monster. The name hung around him like a shadow, and he had been unable to shake it in his eighteen years of life.

 For this reason, asking people out had never been very difficult for him. He knew going in that they’d say no. He didn’t even have to plan out any sort of actual date because he’d be stopped in his tracks on day one. If anyone were to witness, they’d see his same twisted grin and watch his shoulder shrug as if it were water off a duck’s back. Rejection came easy. Easier than acceptance now it seemed.

 He would never admit how much it hurt him deep down. He’d never show how the tiny flame of hope that had been burning within him was snuffed out in a millisecond. At least now it was his final year of high school and soon enough he’d never have to face some of these people ever again. They’d go their separate ways, many probably never leaving Japan while his dreams lay in Paris. He’d be far away from all of them and the only person he’d truly miss was his lone best friend Ushijima Wakatoshi.

 And then there was you. You had captivated his eye quite a lot recently. He noticed you looking his way on more than one occasion. At first he had assumed that you were looking at Ushi. I mean, most people that were staring at them were really looking at the future pro player. He was the star of Shiratoriwaza after all. Satori was just his guard dog on the court.

 He couldn’t deny that he would miss running into you in the hallway, the deer-like look you’d give him as you accidentally ran into him. He thought it was cute how deep in thought you could get just from going from one class to the next. Secretly he wondered what was going on in that head of yours. What were you thinking about that had you so distracted that you missed the one student that stood out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else. It was almost nice to not be noticed for once.

 When he first had the idea to ask you out, he quickly dismissed it. I mean, of course you’d say no. It wasn’t as if you treated him differently than everyone else. You were kind to everyone you came across. However, maybe that was different to him. No one outside the volleyball club really did that for him. Most people avoided him, muttering insults under their breath. They wanted nothing to do with a freak like him.

 So while he was certain that you wouldn’t laugh in your face as some people had, he was certain that you’d still turn him down. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could handle that coming from you. Your kind eyes turned horrified at the very idea of going out with him. The scared expression on your face. No, he couldn’t handle that at all.

 After explaining all this to Ushijima, the star ace told him that he should still try. That he should use the confidence he had on the court. Ushijima had only known you to be nice and caring, and the only time he had seen you be mean to another person was when you had overheard them making fun of Tendou. You had practically tore them apart with your words. Previously he had never told his friend about this incident, as he really thought nothing of it.

 Of course, when Ushijima finally told Satori about this a new wave of admiration came over the redhead. He couldn’t believe that you had stood up for him like that. Ushijima normally kept to himself unless someone directly said something to him, he didn’t interfere. Satori was never offended by that, as it was just the way his friend was.

 So to hear that you, his latest crush, was unleashing an unknown fury to protect him? That made him incredibly warm inside and his heart nearly thumped right out of his chest. It was then that he knew Ushi was right, he had to bolster up the courage to talk to you face to face. Because maybe, just maybe, this one time…someone would say yes to him.

 He had cornered you outside of your last class, and while most people would have eyes wide with terror, you simply smiled warmly at his closeness. “Satori, what is it?” You asked, your tone showing just how comfortable you were with his body being only inches away from yours. No look of disgust or resentment. Already this was going much differently than any other time he had asked someone out.

 “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me on Friday after practice.” Though he was shaking with anxiety on the inside, on the outside his voice remained calm and lighthearted. If you took this as a joke then he’d just laugh along with you. If you hit him then he’d just roll with it. Literally every scenario except the one where you said yes had played through his head on repeat for the last three days.

 But instead of a sneer or a grimace, your smile widened even more. “That sounds great, I can meet you outside the volleyball club room if you want? I think my club ends before yours typically.”

 Tendou’s head spun. You were saying yes? To him? And you were still smiling while saying it? His life had always been one cosmic joke after another but this time…this time he was being given a chance to prove that he wasn’t a creep.

 He took a step back, mouth agape in surprise. He hadn’t even planned anything, as he had simply expected the worst. “Y-yeah,” he finally stammered out, “That sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

 You nodded your head, with the same gorgeous smile. “I can’t wait! See you then, Satori!” You passed by him with an extra bounce in your step, clearly on cloud nine after being asked out by your high school crush. The only thing on your mind was what you were going to wear on Friday night.

 Tendou stood, dumbstruck for another few minutes before it hit him that you really had said yes. This wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And he had a lot of planning to do before Friday. He vowed to make it the best date you had ever had.

General Masterlist || HQ Week Masterlist

[ezzydean]

“ i could have lost you today! do you know what that would have done to me? ” - Peter & Stiles

Stiles manages to hold his tongue until they’re safely tucked away in Peter’s apartment. Away from their enemies and allies alike. Away from the world that seems so determined to take every last bit of Stiles’ happiness and chew it into mush before spitting it out to dissolve on the concrete of the abandoned strip mall parking lot that is his life, complete with weeds struggling to survive as they spring up through the cracks and crawl across the pitted concrete.

So maybe he needs to take a few deep breaths and step back from the cache of flowing words and artful descriptions his creative writing class has tucked away in his mind.

It doesn’t matter what words he uses. He’s angry and frustrated and on edge and the way Peter is looking at him like he wants to pin him down and gobble him up is not doing anything other than make him even angrier.

“That was dangerous, Peter. Dangerous and stupid and ridiculous and if I’m saying it was stupid? Me. The undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through? You know it was fucking stupid.”

“Oh please.” Peter rolls his eyes as he saunters towards his bedroom to change out of his dirty clothes. “I’m a werewolf, darling. There is very little in this world that can even leave a scratch that doesn’t heal within a few hours.”

“Yeah and one of those things is a band of pissed off hunters who have gone rogue, no longer follow a code, and are systematically taking out smaller packs one by one.” Stiles doesn’t bother to raise his voice. One: because he’s tired. Two: because he knows that Peter can hear him no matter where he is in the apartment, even if he whispered.

He throws himself on to the couch, spreading out over it so Peter will have to either move him, sit on him, or sit in the chair off to the side when he comes back. Yes he’s being a little bit petty. But he had just watched Peter throw himself into a fight with a bunch of off the rail hunters who were hellbent on destroying anything and everything supernatural that they could. It doesn’t matter that Peter managed to not get hurt this time. It doesn’t matter that Issac and Derek had swooped in with an almost eerily synchronized move to pull the attention off of Peter.

Stiles had still seen it. He had seen the blade oozing with the twisted version of wolfsbane these particular hunters had been known for. He’d seen it centimeters away from Peter’s chest before he had been grabbed by Isaac and yanked out of the way. A millisecond later and that blade would have been in Peter’s heart. He’s going to be having nightmares about Isaac being too late for weeks. About Isaac reaching out and the blade already in Peter’s chest. About Peter on the ground bleeding and gasping and fading away because this particular wolfsbane blend is made to be quick and vicious and damn near impossible to burn out of a werewolf’s system.

Stiles is good. He can do a lot of shit. And maybe, maybe, if they were mated or bonded or had claimed each other or whatever he’d be able to save Peter even on the brink of death.

But they’re not.

He appreciates being the one to warm Peter’s bed and he knows that neither of them are with anyone else. But they’re not really even with each other so it’s only a small consolation.

Peter looms over him and Stiles peels his eyes open and glares up at him. He doesn’t let his eye rake over Peter the way he wants to. Doesn’t let himself give in to these instincts to curl around Peter and protect him.

Peter doesn’t want that. Peter doesn’t want Stiles to take up that position in his life. In his bed? Sure. On his side in a fight? Definitely. By his side in life? No thank you. Peter’s made it pretty clear where Stiles stands in that regard.

He gestures for Stiles to move his legs and when Stiles refuses Peter raises his brows. “What has you in such a mood? I barely even got a scratch on me and the hunters were put in their place. Everyone wins. Except the hunters, who are dead now.”

“Barely got a scratch?” Stiles hops to his feet, rage flooding him so fast that Peter actually leans back when Stiles leans towards him. “Barely a scratch? You were, quite literally, a hairbreadth away from death, Peter. If Isaac hadn’t grabbed you when he did you wouldn’t be here now.”

“But I am. Here and unharmed.” Peter reaches out for him and Stiles bats his hands away. “It was a risk, Stiles. We all take them every time we go into a fight.”

“Not all of us take unnecessary risks, Peter. You’re the one who taught me that unnecessary risks are just that: unnecessary.” Peter crosses his arms across his chest and takes a step back from Stiles.

“Be that as it may I still don’t see what has you so upset about this whole thing. So I took an unnecessary risk. What is the big deal?”

“The big deal? The big deal is that I could have lost you today! Do you know what that would have done to me? What losing you would do to me?”

Peter stares at him for a moment, words sinking in, before he scoffs and looks off towards the windows.

“You’d survive just fine without me. I’m sure you wouldn’t even miss me for that long. There are plenty of others out there who would fall over themselves to be with you,” Peter says quietly.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any of them. I want you, Peter. I don’t care how many people out there would be willing to be with me. I didn’t choose any of them. I chose you.”

Peter’s lip curls as he lets out a growl. “Oh, please. I’m not a choice. You know it. I know it. Hell even the hunters who come to try and kill us all know that I am, at best, a convenient fuck for you.”

Stiles’ mouth is already open to snap back when the mention of hunters makes him snap it shut. The hunters had been talking amongst themselves just before Peter had leapt into the middle of them and the whole plan had gone out the window. Is that what they had been talking about? Is that what they had said?

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Peter.” He waits until Peter drags his gaze from the windows and looks at him. “You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option.”

“What?”

Well. This was either going to end in some really amazing sex and a new stage of their whatever they’ve been doing or it was going to ruin the best thing he’s ever had. But he is the undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through after all.

“You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option,” he repeats. “The only reason I haven’t given in to my spark’s need to bond with you, to claim you as mine, is because you’ve never seemed to want anything more than a convenient fuck out of me.”

Peter’s eyes widen at ‘bond’ and ‘claim’ even as he winces at having the ‘convenient fuck’ part thrown back at him. He stares at Stiles and Stiles knows Peter is listening to his heartbeat and subtly scenting the air to measure the truth of Stiles’ words. Stiles learned a long time ago how to control his heartbeat and mask his scent but he had promised to never do it while the two of them were alone and fuck Peter is so blind if he can’t see all the ways Stiles bends for him where he’s steel for everyone else.

“You’ve never wanted that,” Peter finally whispers. “You’ve never—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ve wanted it since the day you gave me a key to your apartment and told me you trusted me with it. You. Peter Hale. Trusting me with the key to your apartment. The key to your safe—”

Well shit.

Peter was blind to how far Stiles was willing to bend for him and Stiles was blind to how much Peter had already bent by him by giving Stiles his trust.

“As much as I loathe to admit it about myself,” Peter says softly as he reaches out for Stiles. “We’re both idiots when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Stiles collapses into Peter’s arms with a laugh. “Yeah,” he huffs as he buries his face against Peter’s neck. “But I’m your idiot. And you’re my idiot. So I guess it works out in the end.”

“I guess it does, darling. I guess it does.”

[taeyohonic]

stolen dances | chap. 8

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2200

links: prev. | next  [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.

“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.

“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.

“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.

“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.

it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.

“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”

the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.

“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.

“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.

after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.

“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.

“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.

after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.

“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.

“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.

“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.

with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.

“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.

“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.

two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.

his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.

“_____”

no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.

“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.

a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.

“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.

“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.

two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.

you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.

“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.

“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.

“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.

“i know”

another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.

“have you eaten?”

“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.

“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.

“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.

“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.

“for five months”, he specifies.

“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.

“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”

yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.

“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.

“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.

but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.

“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.

“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.

“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.

“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”

jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.

“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.

“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.

“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.

just… great.

“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?

“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.

“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.

“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.

“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.

“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.

“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.

“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.

your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.

“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…

“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.

“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.

“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”

“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”

he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.

“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”

you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.

“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.

“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”

he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.

“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”

you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”

your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.

“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.

“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.

jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.

“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.

you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.

“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”

“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.

“i still like you way too much for my own good.”

he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.

you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.

bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.

before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.

subject: duchess potatoes are back.

_____

happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!

i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.

i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…

all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid  @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad​ @kimluvwoo​  @jinsearthh​

[asherlockstudy]

Uncomfortable close-up to their Valentine Newlywed answers

Since Rhett was a tad reluctant to compliment Link sincerely I decided to use my psychoanalytical skills (anyway whatever) and seek the underlying honest answers they wanted to give. This could be a bit much at times and perhaps you shouldn't read if you are not a Rhink shipper, that's why I used a cut.

"What he loves about me" Link's expression is a little confusing - maybe an attempt at doubt or self-deprecation but it looks to me more like the embarrassment of the blushing bride.

"I love your..."

Who wants to bet that the first thing that came to Rhett's mind was ass but then he changed it to the first word that came to his mind after ass? A-ccent. Like, there's just no case accent was the first thing he thought because Link's accent isn't even that strong at this point. When Link got surprised at that, Rhett simply replied that he was trying to find something funny. But even so, like I said earlier, Rhett does love Link's accent. I am sure he is fond of it, he finds it adorable. And let's not forget he said "there was so much he could choose from"!

Link looks disappointed that it's not his guess, his eyes. An interesting thing here is that although he used a personality trait for Rhett, he expected / hoped for this physical trait for himself. But don't feel sorry - Rhett has talked about his baby blues and has even gone to the ridiculous extents of planning to make a blog exclusively for Link's eyes. So don't worry; it is known that Rhett at least acknowledges the beauty of Link's eyes. At least. And Link was expecting this from a place of knowledge and not as an attempt to be silly-sappy.

Things Rhett thinks Link loves about him:

voice (Link will later say he loves his laugh and this is close, he's also enchanted every time Rhett sings so...)

height (Link once said he is attracted to "people of extreme heights")

hair (we know that)

beard (lie detector test)

giving spirit (lol totally)

creativity (they've talked about this many times)

eyebrows (if Link has said he likes Rhett's eyelashes then liking his eyebrows is certain)

Rhett was guessing from a place of knowledge too.

Rhett then said he loves stories of Link's grandma doing weird things with him and I don't like being the weirdo to spell out the weird thing but Rhett's interest in that is vaguely associated to his weird mind being always in the gutter. I don't mean it turns him on of course but he loves hearing weird stuff that border on creepy. You know it's true. Sometimes he's like that. Link took revenge for the accent joke with the psoriasis.

Wow we saw some Rhett teeth. Link answered sincerely with a super cute "I love your laugh" but Rhett just said "I love the sound your mouth makes when you don't chew". Oh well. Link regretted being sincere and Rhett, after some good laughter, defended himself by saying "he (Link) walked himself into it". This makes exactly zero sense and I am wondering whether he meant Link walked himself into it by choosing the vulnerable / sincere way. Or if he just didn't know what he was talking about.

Rhett then asks for the next answer to be complimentary. He then repeats he has strong feelings about Link's accent. Again, I believe this! In a positive light. IDK, I do believe this. Link said he has strong positive feelings for Rhett's car which I found weird like Rhett because I thought it was established Link has the better car of the two. Who knows, maybe he lied about the positive thing. Unless he connects it in his mind with memories / experiences.

Link's guess a little later:

Link: If I wanted to, I could easily... start over.

Rhett: Start over?! Like, whole life?

L: ...Yeah, just like, get a re-do.

R: Huh.

L: And I would be like "Really? How?"

R: Mmkay. I said "If you wanted to, you could easily kill me".

Okay, this gets a little deeper. I think what initially Link meant was a joke about starting over regarding his relationship with Rhett. Rhett didn't get that and asked him if he meant his whole life. Link considered that "mmyeah..." and realised it wasn't that far off from what he meant, all jokes aside. Link does wish he could start over and redo many things in his life. This surely has A LOT to do with their religious upbringing. And maybe how it affected Link's choices. Stevie's laughter is so out of place sometimes. Rhett does not laugh and tries to rush this moment. Rhett's answer about Link killing him is not exactly weird or offensive or mean as I saw some people consider it. It shows, maybe subconsiously, several things; Link's intensity, Rhett's pliable nature especially to Link and it might be more indicative of how Rhett feels about Link than anything else, at least in this video.

And then, out of nowhere, or maybe so it seems to us, Rhett goes ballistic against everyone. He starts complaining about those complaining when they didn't give each other heartfelt compliments. Link joked he agrees with them. Rhett attempted to let this slip although it angered him. The crew laughed with Link's joke, meaning they kinda sided with him, and Rhett turned basically mad at Link.

He accused Link that he did the same that day and Link entirely deflected the conversation. All I'm gonna say is that don't think they don't communicate with each other about how they approach certain situations. I wonder if at times they misunderstand each other or one changes opinion suddenly and leaves the other hanging. Link tries to stop Rhett from going on but Rhett is unstoppable at this point.

You might say Rhett was straight out mean right there and I sure was like "whoa where did this all come from, man" but mean is not a reasonable explanation. He was angry and his words show he is in a pressured state. Unless you tend to have mood swings, which Rhett doesn't really have as far as I know, you don't go from all cutesy and mischievous to furious in milliseconds. Except if there is an underlying suppressed cause. And you may ask, okay does he feel pressured to say a compliment to Link? Is this such a big deal? Well, yes and no. I don't think Rhett meant "we're not gonna hold hands" or "compliment each other" when we ask it. I think we know what he means. I think he's talking about the - well, in his words - elephant in the room. The actually serious consideration that there is something more there. The expectation that it might get revealed at any point - whether intentionally or unintentionally. Rhett loses control at that moment, which is why Link, who knows him well, warns him to not go there but Rhett still does. And again, you might say: well, no fan asked them to kiss or to confirm anything! We asked them simple stuff that can be normal between platonic friends too. Yes, but there is something we don't take often into account. The mythical crew. The mythical crew are actually the ones who monitor closely what the fans believe, want and prefer to watch. This means that the crew has to inform and discuss with Rhett and Link how much they are gonna please the audience and in what ways. Which means that a crew of 50+ people have an elaborate opinion on what fans think of Rhett and Link's relationship (next to their own opinion of course) and this has to be communicated with them face to face. In short, Rhett and Link have their privacy invaded not only by the fans but by their employees and, moreover, they are forced to always have fun with it and take it lightly. Again, you could think: well, they could forbid any rhink reference to the crew from now on. And you would think this WOULDN'T make the crew MORE suspicious at this point? All I am saying, they are fine when they make rhink insinuations / jokes voluntarily but most of the time is forced upon them by both the fans and employees and this can be uncomfortable at best if they are just friends or tyrannical if there is something more there that they still keep for themselves. So, Rhett's frustration comes from a deeper place than being expected to give a compliment. If I were in their place as I imagine it (I could always be entirely wrong) I would feel like a muppet trying to balance all my reactions towards thousands of people, with several dozens of them being paid by me to scrutinize me and order me how exactly to act!

There is a cut following Rhett's vent and you can see that Rhett is trying to calm himself down.

He speaks to himself, mumbling "yeah alright yeah ok ok" and by the expressions I can tell he acknowledges he lost control. That doesn't mean he regretted what he said - just that he said more than it benefits him to say and apparently he said a lot more in the unedited video. Kudos then to Link, who actively tries to calm his friend down and make him feel more comfortable.

This might be unpleasant to some but from his stance I conclude that Link agrees with Rhett or at least understands him. He was just wise enough to not say it out loud. Link first warned Rhett to not speak and then stayed quiet as Rhett was venting. After the cut, we see him trying to help Rhett calm down and relax and he characteristically invites Rhett to focus his attention on him and find something he really loves about him. This is not a complaint - Link is smiling and is warm to Rhett. What he essentially does is trying to help Rhett forget he is being watched by thousands and his every word is weighted, which of course is Rhett's main problem. He just says "forget about them and focus on me and just say something you love, it's all good". I just love Link here. He's supportive and caring.

The next question is what Link loves when Rhett blanks his blank and Rhett is trying to picture it-

I have no doubt Link loves that. The ear thumbing, I mean.

So, then I am adding the stills that redeemed Rhett in the fandom:

But not to be that person, it's obvious that Rhett plays it up a ridiculous lot. And not even to appease the angry fans but probably to make fun of their anger. That's why Link laughs with his face and his answer "I love remembering the time we met".

This doesn't interest me at all. Instead, I am much more interested in Link's nonsensical answer "I love remembering the time we died" because what?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Link tends to say occasionally stuff that doesn't make sense but I don't think he would pass on the chance to say something even remotely meaningful in an opportunity like this and especially regarding his relationship with Rhett. Link clarifies: "...when we died. This is heaven". There are two possibilities and only two: a) this makes ZERO sense and it's the worst and most pointless joke ever and b) this is symbolic or something only Rhett could understand. Rhett does not dismiss this as stupid or silly with his usual done look. He asks questions about it and they discuss at length about how it happened that they died and why they went to heaven since it seems they killed each other. Well, it's because they killed each other in the exact same time with a prod-like tool and they escaped Good Ol' God's (in Link's words) notice. Okay. I'm just leaving this here and you can all draw your own conclusions. Personally, I am torn between a symbolical death and rebirth when they left their religious selves behind and death being used as a well known old metaphor of a certain physical state. It would work even more if it was both. Or Link was just talking nonsense. Let's not exclude that. So yeah. That's all I had to say................

[ofmythsandmadness]

lost in (queens, nyc)

SUMMARY: someone’s stood her up, and peter parker’s got a crazy idea to (hopefully) make things better. PAIRING: peter parker x reader  WORD COUNT: 2042

A/N: based on iris zhang’s (will be linked) cover of ‘lost in japan’, somewhat. aka i was listening to it, and then became faceted on the lyrics “i got an idea, i know it sounds crazy” and “do you got plans tonight?”. it’s not really a representation of the song, but it’s pretty and i wrote it with that in mind, if it means anything. i wrote this super fast and i haven’t edited it so!! please don’t judge me too much, i’ll get to it in the morning but i just had to shoot this off. :))

lost in japan, by iris zhang -

EVEN WITH HER EYES FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH TEARS, Peter Parker thinks she is the prettiest girl in the whole world.

Though, he does not especially like her crying - while she’s still pretty as can be, her crying means she’s sad, and that makes her own heart hurt. 

Peter’s arguably the most awkward guy in New York - nay, the world. He never knows what to say or how to act, especially not around pretty people that make his heart spin and soar. But he also just cannot turn a blind eye to the badly hidden sniffles and tears. She is, after all, one of his closest friends, and at that point she most definitely has seen him walking. He might be awkward beyond belief, but he’s not a dick.

So he twists around and hurries back the way he came, muttering apologies-a-plenty for those he bumps into along the way. His hand finds her shoulder and then shies away immediately when she starts (great idea - not everyone’s got a ��tingle’, Peter). He can feel his face heat up and he knows that its growing redder and redder by every passing millisecond, but he’s already there. Already sliding into the opposing seat, already in the gaze of the pretty girl with tears in her eyes and tissues in hand.

He’s already there. He might as well do his best to make her smile.

So, Peter fakes a small grin, tries to look as empathetic as he possibly can. Sure, it might just look like he’s mildly constipated, but hopefully she gets the hint. His hand shivers on the table, itching to grab hers, but it just settles on tapping against the cool metal. “I - I don’t mean to just sit, it’s just...well, I heard you crying.”

Her eyes widen and he knows that’s far from the right thing to say. Immediately, Peter spits out a thousand apologies, rushing to make things right and make sure she knows that he did not mean anything by that. But before he can bend over backwards to cover up a silly remark, their eyes meet and he realises with a small start, that she’s not looking upset. Not at him, at least.

“It’s okay,” Y/N says. She sniffles one last time, runs the tissue under her nose, then tosses it into the trash. “Really. I mean, it’s my fault for sitting here moping, right?”

“W-what? Moping, no, you’re not - there’s nothing wr - you’re okay.”

She throws him a watery smile, barely covering up the woe underneath. “Nah. I’ve been here an hour or so now, I should’a headed home at this point. I look sorta stupid, sitting here crying by myself.”

Peter frowns in confusion. “An hour? What - what are you doing here? Waiting for?”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Her gaze turns down, staring at her twisting fingers on the tabletop and watching them perform. “I, uh...heh. This guy, he asked me out. We were supposed to meet here, but..looks like he’s not ever showing up.”

He can feel the rage bubble inside of him. Quiet, but very much present. The fact that anyone would turn her up makes him want to punch a wall. The sheer audacity for someone to ignore plans with the coolest girl in Queens - well, there’s a lot he could say to that, but it’s not his place to do so. Instead of voicing his outrage and angry compliments her way, Peter splutters for words. “I don’t - I - what - I don’t get it. Why would someone turn you up?”

Her lips twist even more, a sad pout as she reminescenes. “Dunno. Guess they just thought it was not worth their time. Or they just thought, ‘hey, why not make this chick think that someone would actually be int’a her’. I should have known.”

“H-hey, no, that’s not true. I li…” he does not know how to finish that thought, if he has the strength to spit his own truth. And especially when Y/N look at him curiously, Peter knows he can’t follow through. He swallows, trying to whet his throat, only to find his mouth is completely bone dry. “I just mean that you’re, you’re wonderful. I’m sure lots of people like you.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Her shoulders slump. “Wish that was true.”

“It is true,” he replies, the first few words he’s able to spit out certainly. “I mean it.”

Her look doesn’t waver, and he realises a couple of toss away phrases that badly mimic a pep talk won’t help. He should know as well as anyone that problems cannot be solved with a pep talk - if it doesn’t work for him, he shouldn’t expect her to take his stuttered words. No, if he wants to see her smile again - and oh, how he wants that - he’s going to have to do more than that.

A shy smile begins to grow on his lips, spreading across his face. Peter rises, much to Y/N’s surprise, but before she can ask where he’s going, he extends his hand. It trembles but remains strong, waiting for her own - that time not second-guessing his actions. “C’mon.”

“Huh?”

“C’mon,” he repeats, that time a little shakier. He tries not to doubt himself, but its hard when you’re...well...him. Nevertheless, he remains standing. “D’ya got any other plans, tonight?”

“Well, no.”

Peter feels his knees tremble, and desperately tries to steady himself. “Let’s do s-something, then. I - I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“-actually, no, it doesn’t.” Finally, her hand slips carefully into his own and he feels his heart practically explode right then and there in his chest. She smiles gently and brushes away one last tear, and she’s a sight to be taken in - someone should paint her. Truly.

Her shoulders go back and her hand squeezes in his own trembling one. “I’ve got nothing else. What did you have in mind?”

And Peter just smiles, and tugs her forward, determined to make up for what that jerk did to her.

TWO HOURS LATER AND HER SMILE WAS STRAIGHT UP brightening up the entire night sky. Hell, Peter Parker began to expect people to start sticking their heads out their windows and wonder why the sun was rising for a second time. But honestly, the world could be damned entirely - he could not care at all. She was happy, and he was overjoyed at that fact.

Sure, he could not do all he wanted to do - his first thought went to an aerial tour of New York, her arms wrapped around him as the two of them zoomed about, staring down at the tiny buildings and people. But with the difficulty of a secret identity is a pain that had to step on his parade, and so he decided to just milk his other superhero advantages in order to make her happy. Revealing he was Spider-man could wait another time.

In the meantime, they are both grinning from ear to ear, and her hand is firmly wrapped in his and their shoulders are brushing with ever single step they take and honestly, Peter’s not sure how long he can last without bursting into a ray of pure happiness. It took some time, but he managed to break her frown into the happy-go-lucky grin of pure gold that made him weak at the knees.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, purposely knocking herself into him that time. Her eyes dart his way, they lock with his and he can hardly stop himself from turning red. “Seriously, for everything. I mean, when you said ‘crazy idea’ I didn’t know what to expect, but all this?”

He hates to milk his connections, but...hey, it worked and he really doesn’t regret it. “I’m just glad your night wasn’t ruined.”

“Ruined?” she gasps. They pause, almost conveniently just outside her apartment building. Y/N turns to stand in front of him, but her hand never leaves his. If anything, the grip just tightens. “Oh, no, Peter. This has been one of the best times I’ve had in a long, long time and I - I honestly couldn’t give a damn about that guy anymore. I’m really glad he didn’t show up, it meant we could have this great time together.”

Yep, he’s definitely glowing at that point. Peter ducks his head, eager to hide the blush, but still grins. “Well, uh, I’m glad. I had a good time too.” Good? Understatement of the year.

“That’s, that’s good.”

He raises his head a breath, just so he can see her gaze; curious, but cautious, like she’s not sure about something but eager to know more. “Y-yeah.” His words fall soft and stuttered, a slip up he only makes because they’re now so close and he’s only just realising now how near she is to him. His bones feel like rubber; if he fell to the ground spineless, it would not be much of any surprise to him. He’s felt this way before, knows it well enough, it came with the territory of crushes but - if he’s truly being honest with himself, being with Y/N and her intoxicating smile and big, beautiful e/c eyes, it’s nothing like ever before.

“Well,” she sighs, “this is my place. Thanks for walking me back.”

“Y-yeah. No problem.”

They stand there, a moment longer, both maybe expecting something else from the other. Her face remains upturned and hopeful for a long time, close to infinity if he had to label it, but as the seconds drip by, Y/N loses that eager glow. 

Her smile droops a little. “I guess I’ll see you at school?”

Peter’s heart thuds in his chest, and at that time, not in a good way. He knows those words and that tone. He’s supposed to have had made a move already, and done that suave movie-star thing that he’s been lectured on by far too many superhero heartthrobs. And yet, his feet are glued to the pavement and he’s sweating more than he can believe, and now without her hand in his as an anchor, maybe he’s drowning all alone at sea. He’s messed it up, the moment where he could try and be honest with her - and he doesn’t know if he has the guts to make up for it.

But as she turns away, his heart beats faster and faster all of a sudden, and out of nowhere his feet are unstuck and rushing him closer and closer to her. He’s then right behind her, tapping her shoulder and turning her around, making her look back up at him like she did moments before. He inhales a deep, shaky breath, tries to swallow his anxiety back and smile like he had been, before the moment ended.

“I just wanted to say...I had a really good time today.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, once then over and over like a bobble-head collective. “Yeah. Yeah, it was fun, being out with you. And maybe...maybe, we can do it again, sometime? Together?” He scratches his neck awkwardly. “Maybe next time, not just because of some asshole who stood you up.”

Y/N smiles again, but it’s different from before. Still genuine, but gentler, sweeter, if that is even possible. Before he could process the moment, she’s rising up to her tippy-toes and then towards him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder so that she could kiss his cheek. The moment’s barely a second in time, just a quick motion that led her right back to the position in front of him, but he runs it over and over and over in his head like a cassette stuck on a loop.

As he stares down at her, dumbfounded, Y/N begins to turn away, for the second time again. She waves though, and gives him one last glimpse at her glowing smile before she’s moving towards her place. “See you around, Peter,” she calls, growing smaller and smaller by the second. 

And that time, when she says that, he knows it means more than just around school.

[mendesmelancholy]

Iris [Part Two] - A Shawn Mendes Fic

Part One // Part Three Synopsis: Part two of Shawn meeting an interesting girl after one of his shows. Warnings: alcohol, swearing, mentions of sex, suggestive language Word Count: 4k Author’s Note: Part two of “Interesting”! I changed the title to Iris because I didn’t like the original one. Let me know if you’d like a part three! I’d love to do one. Taglist:��@shawnsunflower @shwnmndsx @tnhmblive @someoneunimportantxx @justordinaryjen @versacebutera @xmtd5 @chubsluda @hehemendes @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson @lovingchildperson 

     “Who says I was trying to seduce you, honey?” He teases, picking up the small banter they had started. She quirks her eyebrow at him, realising he’s starting to play her game right back. And part of her wants to drop her act and beg him to take her the way she wants, but she’s not easy. She’s a challenge. And she embraces that.

     “Well, if you’re not…” she trails off, beginning to peel herself from Shawn’s grip, but his grasp on her waist tightens, pulling her back to him in a millisecond. Her own cheeks split into a grin, winning this round of her game. Shawn sighs deeply, pressing his forehead to her before looking her dead in the eye and whispering,

     “Alright, sweetheart, I’ve been sweet, but if that’s the game you wanna play, I’ll seduce you.”

     “You’re more than welcome to.”

     A glimmer sparks behind Shawn’s eyes and sets her soul ablaze in a way no man has ever managed to. A simple look has her resolve crumbling and she’s no longer sure if she wants to play her little game. His brown eyes are focused solely on her own and she gulps. Shawn notices the bobbing of her throat and grins to himself slightly, ducking his head to be even closer to her, their lips slightly blushing. The sight of Shawn’s grin makes Iris return to her original plan… to tease the living hell out of this man. She perks up slightly, pushing her chest even farther into Shawn’s torso.

     “Can I kiss you?” He asks, glancing down at her lips that has one tucked between her two front teeth.

     “Yeah… no,” she slurs, pulling back and twirling around. She’s drunk at this point, but the confidence surging through her veins keeps her upright and unwavering as she finds her way to the bar to buy herself another drink. She doesn’t even need to look behind her to know that Shawn is looking at her in complete shock. And he is. He can hear her friends giggling slightly before Alexandra approaches him,

     “She wants you to chase her.”

     “Fuck me,” he groans, running his hand through his hair and following her through the crowd of people. When he finds her again, she’s leaning against the bar, successfully catching the attention of the bartender. He’s clearly hitting on her and Shawn examines him quickly. He’s buff, tall and blonde with short hair and glasses. He feels a little twitch in his mouth as jealousy puddles in his stomach and the blood rushes out of his jeans. Shawn squares his shoulders and approaches Iris at the bar, confidently sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. He doesn’t look down at her as he orders their drinks,

     “Two shots of tequila, a Screwdriver and Henny and coke,” Shawn orders. The blonde bartender adjusts his posture and grunts, going to fix their drinks. Shawn’s lips pull into a smirk, seeing Iris looking up at him from the corner of her eyes. Her lush lips that he had just brushed were pursed to the side of her mouth, her chocolate eyes not quite glaring at Shawn but not looking thrilled either and she moves to put a hand on Shawn’s chest. This forces him to look at her and he quirks an eyebrow,

     “Pissing on your territory, Mendes?” She asks, clearly not happy with the way Shawn became possessive, “One thing you must know about me if you actually want to see me again,” she says in a challenging tone, “is that I’m not anyone’s property. I don’t do territory or jealousy.”

     “Feisty…” Shawn laughs to himself, nodding to the bartender who’s returned with their drinks. Iris goes to pay for her drink, but Shawn beats her to it, “Just add it to my tab.”

     He then turns his attention to her and he nods, “Understood.”

     “Good,” she smiles, “Now, do this shot with me.”

     “Can’t disobey the princess,” Shawn teases, picking up his shot glass and not missing the shiver that crawls up her skin at the nickname, “But, how about we make this more fun?”

     “And how could we do that?”

     “Get your friends over here and I’ll show you. You might want a crowd for this.”

     Iris furrows her brows, but obliges. Shawn watches as she walks away, noting the sway in her hips underneath the black silk of her dress. He groans to himself, feeling the blood rush back to his groin. He bites down at his lower lip, switching his shot glass for his whiskey and coke. He takes a long sip from it, ignoring the dirty taste of the whiskey and focusing on the sweetness of the coke. He thinks he should’ve gotten rum instead, but he doesn’t have time to reorder by the time Iris returns with her friends in tow. Even though they’ve been gone for a few minutes, the group appears to be significantly drunker. Shawn then wonders if it’s him who’s significantly drunker.

     “Alright, how are we making this interesting, Mendes?” She challenges, jutting her hip out.

     “Body shots.”

     Iris’s eyebrows raise to her forehead, jutting her chin out slightly as if she didn’t hear him, “Are you serious?”

     “As a heart attack.”

     “‘No offense, Scully,’” Alexandra butts in and Iris lets out an adorable snort at her friend’s addition. She wraps an arm around Alexandra,

     “You wanna do body shots, bub?”

     “Fuck yeah,” she cheers and it’s Shawn’s turn to raise his eyebrows,

     “Only way I’m doing body shots is if Iris does them off of me and I do them off of her.”

     “Calm down, Alpha. Alexandra is gonna do them off me and I’ll do them off her and I’ll get to you after.”

     Shawn contemplates this, but already knows his answer. As long as he gets Iris’s tongue on his skin, he doesn’t care if she also does them off her girl friend. Hell, she could kiss and make out with the girl for all he cares, but he needs her afterwards. All to himself, “Fine.”

     “More shots please!” Iris shouts at the passing bartender with a wicked smile on her face. The bartender rolls his eyes, clearly bitter about his flirting being cut short, but obliges. The group of friends make a circle around Shawn, Alexandra and Iris, waiting, phones ready, to film Iris doing body shots off The Shawn Mendes. But at this point, Iris doesn’t even see him as the man she just watched perform. He’s Shawn, who’s allergic to animals but pets them anyway and is absolutely stunning. He doesn’t carry himself like he’s famous. He’s just Shawn. 

     When the bartender returns with the shots, Shawn gives him a nod and the bartender lingers to see the two girls do body shots off each other. Alexandra jokingly pushes Iris’s shoulders so she’s seated in one of the few barstools around the countertop. Shawn hands Alexandra the salt shaker, where Alexandra pours salt in her left clavicle. She then feeds Iris the rind of the lime wedge, so the pulp is facing the girl about to do the body shot. Shawn nudges the shot glass to right next to Iris for easy access.      He watches intently as Iris makes eye contact with him, tilting her head back, exposing more of her collarbones and throat to Shawn and Alexandra. She doesn’t even flinch as her best friend licks through the salt line on her skin, grabbing the shot and downing it, before leaning forward and snatching the lime wedge out of her mouth with her own. Their lips don’t brush, but Shawn’s heart pounds at the sight. He curses himself inside for getting turned on at the sight of two best friends acting sexually towards one another, but he can’t help the tightening in his jeans. His eyes don’t leave Iris’s as he observes the way her eyes have become glossy and her pupils even larger from the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

     “My turn,” Alexandra slurs. Iris breaks eye contact before standing up on wobbly legs and letting Alexandra take her place.

     “You know what would be fun?” Alexandra mumbles, clearly a lot more intoxicated than Iris.

     “Hmmm?” Iris hums.

     “If you put the salt on my nose and forehead.”

     “You have makeup on.”

     “Oh. Right,” Alexandra leans her head back like Iris did. Shawn doesn’t even watch her as his eyes follow Iris. She does what Alexandra had done with the lime and salt. She holds her shot in her hand as she flicks a look to Shawn. Iris winks at him and bends her head down, slowly running her tongue along the salt in her clavicle, allowing her tastebuds to collect absolutely every granule of salt left on her skin. She wordlessly takes the tequila shot, glancing over to Shawn as she takes the lime wedge from Alexandra’s mouth, lingering slightly. When she straightens her back, she removes the fruit from her mouth and Shawn can’t help but notice the little trickle of juice out of the corner of her mouth. He steps closer to her without thinking and presses his thumb to the stream. He runs his thumb along it before bringing it to his own mouth and sucking it off. She’s watching with intrigue before a devilish grin appears along her lips,

     “You want to go next?”

     “Yes, I do,” he replies, nudging her towards the seat. When Alexandra giggles and stands up, curling into the side of their friend Catie, Iris sits down again, parting her knees so Shawn can slide in between them.

     “Can I put salt on your neck?”

     “You’re more than welcome to,” Iris repeats for the third time that night and the devilish grin becomes even more evil.

     “Good,” Shawn says shortly, leaning down to her neck and using his hand to tilt her head to the side, exposing the left side of her throat to him. He grabs the salt shaker from the countertop and dips his head all the way to the bottom of her throat. He sticks his tongue out, starting small before flattening it and licking up the expanse of her neck. He can feel her moan slightly from the vibration of her throat as he runs it slowly, slowing down even more when he presses the spot below her ear. He uses his hand with the salt shaker to push her hair even farther over her shoulder and moves her hoop earrings. He pulls back, looking into her eyes and mindlessly allowing the salt to drip from the shaker all the way down her skin. Her eyes are hooded, but the confidence that lingers has wavered and Shawn can sense it. He bites down on his lower lip to avoid smiling at her submission to his actions and puts the salt shaker down. Her eyes have weakness and desperation lingering behind them and he so badly wants to drag it all the way to the front. To have her on her knees in front of him, the desperation so clearly scrawled on her face as he undoes the buckle on his belt.

     This time, he grabs his shot glass. He moves his other hand to collect her straight hair in his hands and bunch it to the other side of her neck, not letting go. He can feel her hands settle on his hips, digging her nails into his shirt and he smiles to himself. He continues to look into her eyes until he can’t anymore and his lips are too close to her skin. Iris closes her eyes and tips her head back, Shawn’s grip on her hair tightening and she can’t help but let out a weak whimper at his actions. She can feel him chuckle underneath her fingertips but she doesn’t care anymore. Her game has ended this very moment and she just needs Shawn to lick up her neck and to her mouth and to kiss her so hard her lips bleed. The huff of laughter blows across the wet strip on her skin, forming goosebumps along her thighs and forearms and she has to fight off the urge to shiver at the sensation. He breathes against her skin, once, twice, three times more before he fully presses his tongue to her neck and begins collecting the salt on his taste buds. He’s even slower than he was before, savouring the sweetness of her skin and perfume, mixing with the saltiness of her sweat that’s collected along her own hairline and the salt on her skin. She allows her lips to part the slightest bit at the sensation of his smooth, hot tongue running along her nerves. When he reaches that one spot under her ear, he tugs slightly on her hair before running his teeth along the spot and she gasps. The sound makes Shawn moan and glance at her closed eyes before he removes himself, downing that rancid tequila shot and leaning forward to clasp the lime wedge in between his own lips. And as he’s getting it, he makes sure his lips brush her own just slightly before he uses his teeth to pluck it out of her mouth and suckle on the bitter fruit. When he stands to his full height again, smirking down at her, who’s closed her lips. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes. They’re hazy and glazed and etched with pure sex as she stands up and moves so Shawn can sit down.

     If he wants to play that game still, she can put on her best poker face.

     Iris draws out her movements, playing it off as being drunk, but it’s all deliberate. She parts his legs for him, slotting her hips in between them before reaching behind him and to the bar to grab the salt shaker. She makes sure she leans forward slightly, pushing her cleavage together and in front of his face. She throws a glance at Shawn and he can’t seem to take his eyes off of her bare skin. She smiles to herself before grabbing the salt and standing straight in front of him. Even in her platforms and with Shawn sitting down, she isn’t even at the same height as him. But, she hopes her posture and confidence compensates for her shortness. Shawn watches her every movement, lips slightly parted and if he didn’t close them soon, he would be drooling. His eyes are dripping with intrigue and lust as he admires her figure in her tight silk dress. His fingers itch to run the full expanse of her bare legs, caressing her skin with the tips of his skin. He wants to set her on fire the way she’s set him on fire.

     Little does he know, she wants the same thing.

     She slowly moves the necklaces from his chest, to the side and resting on his silk shirt. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches Iris. She bends closer to him, eye level with his chest as she flutters her eyes to look up at him quickly. Her left eye drops into a wink before she returns to her placement of salt. She takes a deep breath before licking the middle of his chest and up to his Adam’s apple. She’s slower than Shawn was, taking her sweet precious time, teasing the living hell out of him. She presses her tongue hard in some spots and removes most of the pressure in others. She rests her free hand on one of Shawn’s pecs, steadying herself and feeling his breath and heartbeat picking up with each inch she licks up his skin. When she reaches his Adam’s apple, she bites down slightly, making Shawn groan at the contact before she quickly soothes it with a faint kiss. Shawn can’t help but think how soft and lush her lips are, pressing against his sweaty skin. At this angle, she can smell his cologne and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head at how good he smells. He smells expensive and luxe and musky and she presses her thighs together slightly. It makes her think of sleeping in his sheets with him, how they’re coated with his scent. It makes her think of burying her head into his neck as he’s fucking into her.

     When she stands up straight again, she makes eye contact with Shawn. His eyes are hazy and drooping, but they never waver from her. She gives him a knowing smile, beginning to pour the salt down his chest and throat. He tilts his head back slightly, giving her access to the area on his neck that she had run her tongue along. She follows his movements, making sure the trail of salt reaches his Adam’s apple. When she’s done, she puts the salt back on the counter and grabs the tequila shot and the lime. She taps Shawn’s lips with the lime and he parts them even farther as she places the wedge between his teeth. He gives her a small wink, making her quirk her eyebrow at him. If he thinks he has the upper hand, he was about to be extremely incorrect.  

     She also hands him the shot glass and he looks at her with confusion, but takes it.

     “You ready, honey?” She asks, her own voice dripping with honey and sweetness, but her eyes saying anything but. He just nods, licking his lips.

     “Okay,” she trails off. She crouches slightly, resting her hands on his thick thighs. She drags her hands up his thighs slowly, making sure to scratch her fingernails to juxtapose the softness of her finger tips. She’s watching Shawn and Shawn is watching her. He can’t take his eyes off her. His chest begins to heave as her hands inch closer and closer to his groin, brushing the fabric just slightly and ghosting her fingertips along his strained cock and he moans out loud, but none of her friends hear. Her hands then begin to coast up his torso, brushing over his abdominals and up to his pecs. When her fingertips reach the taut skin, she digs her fingernails into him slightly before beginning to lick up the salt trail on his chest. His chest hairs tickle her lips and are rough against her tongue, but she’s closed her eyes and is basking in the way his body is responding to her. His thighs are tight, his abdominals are flexed and his cock is so unbelievably hard. His heart seems to be pounding out of his chest and his breath is uneven. She did all of this to him and she’s so proud of herself. When she reaches his Adam’s apple, she moves her hands to the sides of his neck and tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape. She gives a tug as she begins to suckle at the bobbing part of his throat. She can feel him groaning, or growling, at the sensation, the vibrations brushing along her lips.

     Iris eventually pulls back, nodding towards the shot glass that Shawn holds loosely in his hands at his side. His eyes had been shut and his head had been thrown back at her touch, but when she removes herself, he opens his eyes. His whiskey coloured pupils are gazing at her, completely blown and drunk and horny, but he watches her intently. He brings the shot glass up and she uses one of her hands to hold onto his wrist. Her touch on bare skin feels even more intense than the fire of her touching him through his jeans and silky top. He feels like every cell in his body is vibrating and he can’t stop watching her. She guides the shot glass, still grasped in his hand, to her lips. She wants Shawn to pour it down her throat and he’s more than happy to oblige. She parts her lips as he rests the bottom of the glass on her lower lip and tilts the tequila to spill into her mouth. She has her eyes closed on purpose as she downs the bitter alcohol, the warmth and saltiness of it so comforting to her. When there’s nothing left, she closes her lips and opens her eyes and swallows, making eye contact with Shawn as she does this. She notices his own throat bobbing as he gulps at the sight of her swallowing, his mind clearly in the same place as hers. He takes away the shot glass, setting it behind him as she leans forward and prepares to take the lime out of his mouth. But right as she’s about to pucker her lips around the fruit, he drops it from his mouth and lets his lips press onto hers. 

     Iris is surprised, but welcomes the touch of his lips against hers finally. His lips are as soft and plump as they look, tinted with the taste of salt and tequila and lime. Her head begins to spin and she knows it's not from the alcohol. His lips send a tingling to not only between her legs, but throughout her entire body. Her entire body is hot with fire and intensity, his touch setting something alight inside of her that she’s never felt before. It is so much more than desire, it is a longing that is finally being fulfilled after so many years on earth. It’s perfect to her. And Shawn can feel the perfection too. His entire body feels like it’s floating, not only from the relief that he feels about finally being able to kiss her, but feeling a connection he’s wanted for so long. She moves to slot her lips between his and he moves with her. But after she initiates the slotting, he completely takes over. He finally places his hands on her lips, pulling her impossibly closer to him and digging his fingertips into the fleshy spot. He moves their lips in sync, adding pressure with each movement of their lips against one another. Her one hand in his hair tangles even further, tugging slightly at the roots as her free hand fists his green top in between her palm. His hands wander to her lower back and then eventually the curve of her ass and lord, is it incredible. Both let out gasps and whines as Shawn kneads her flesh in between his hands.

     When they’re both out of breath, Iris is the first to break the kiss. Her lips are brushing against his slightly as her chest heaves and lets out puffs of air she didn’t know she was holding in. Shawn’s doing the same, his hands still resting on her ass and her hands still threaded into whatever she can grab onto, trying to ground herself. Both of their eyes are closed as they snap out of their little bubble, the music from the club spills into their ears and the whooping and cheering and shouts of her friends bleed into the music. Their skin is sticky with sweat and want as they break apart even farther. The lights of the club flash against their tinted skin and a few flashes from her friends cameras. 

     They don’t say anything originally, lost for words and a million and one thoughts flooding their minds as they try and process the intensity of the moment they just shared. But their minds both end up in the same place. If a kiss is that explosive, what could even more be like?

     “Wanna get out of here?” Shawn asks tentatively, opening his own eyes. Iris’s are closed and decorated in an eyeshadow look that he loves on her. The silver and black contrast against her olive toned skin and dark eyes. When her eyelashes flutter open and she’s looking at him, the confidence has subsided and she reveals a small piece of vulnerability as she replies.

     “You really want to?”

     “Of course I do,” Shawn smiles, moving to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She smiles, her vulnerability and confidence mixing as she looks into his eyes and nods,

     “I thought you’d never ask.”

     Shawn stands up, pressing her tightly to him as he bends down and drops a peck to her forehead before grabbing her hand and excusing himself from her group of friends. She follows along, threading their fingers together and saluting to her friends as they whistle and laugh.

     As they weave their way through the crowd back to his bodyguard, she hopes that Shawn actually does want to see her again. Because what she felt when she kissed him... she needs to feel it for the rest of her damn life.

[larriefails]

28 is not a Larry number - a masterpost

Since @theystudyrainbows has decided to put all the Larrie delusions on this number in one handy masterpost, why not debunk it all in one go?

Even the introduction is a mess. The 28 is not “a One Direction fandom mystery” at all. It’s Louis’ jersey number that he was assigned at Doncaster Rovers and that he has since then adopted. But then again, Liam’s kidney and the Belfast canceled concert are not mysteries either

How decent of you to say that some of these are coincidences, considering literally all of the following is bullshit

The fact that ���too many people to name” contributed to write this drivel makes my heart ache

Harry has no connection to the number 28 whatsoever

The problem with you attempting numerology is that there are only 9 possible digits (as the addition of two numbers can never be zero). So, you clown yourselves because it leads to this

Eleanor was born on July 16th 1992:

7+1+6+1+9+9+2 = 35

3+5 = 8

Oh no!

But also, Zayn was born on January 13th 1992:

1+1+3+1+9+9+2 = 26

2+6 = 8

(: Ya see how that’s just not good?

Not only that, but also, as I said, Harry has no connection to the number 28, but for shits and giggles

Kendall Jenner was born on November 3rd 1995:

1+1+3+1+9+9+5 = 29

2+9 = 11

1+1 = 2

So.. basically this is worthless information that you pulled out of your ass. Or I could easily claim that 28 is an Elounor or a Hendall number

You also use this method to count Harry and Louis’ X Factor numbers, but as we’ve established, there are only 9 options, the odds are stacked for this coincidence

How is that 28? That’s 82.. A completely different number. In the UK the date is written day/month/year. So the “same gig” was the 8th day of the 2nd month. 82. It’s very funny that, since you’re Italian and live in the UK (both countries that use the day/month/year system) you’ve written every date so far that way, but now that you want to say this other random date is connected to 28, you switched to month/day/year.

Also, where is the year in this equation? We’ve been using the entire date so far, but now we’re only focusing on the day and month? (and switching order?) That seems very convenient. Almost like, if you try hard enough, any date can add up to 28 in some way?

November 17th 2011, Louis and Eleanor’s anniversary: 11+17=28! Oh no! DRATS! It’s still an Elounor number!

And now we’re just ignoring the month and only focusing on the day. And not only that, but ignoring half the time they were there (the 27th) to only focus on the 28th. That is, once again, very convenient

But continuing with your own ridiculous logic. We know that Louis and Eleanor went to V Fest together in 2011, because Eleanor said so on twitter when Sugarscape wondered if the “brown haired girl” holding hands with Louis at V Fest was her

V Fest was on August 20th and 21st 2011. What do you know? 20+8 = 28! Damn... this is getting suspicious. Louis!!! Did you get the 28 for Eleanor? :)

This is a whole ass facepalm. I’m going to link the video here just so it’s verifiable how unhinged y’all are

He literally turns for 1 millisecond, and is looking in the general area of his right because that’s where everyone else in the band is standing. The fact that y’all still do this shit is so embarrassing for your life and your soul

But why don’t you tell the truth? That y’all decided their anniversary was the 28th and then created this completely impossible to prove “receipt”? How is it proof of anything if it came AFTER y’all had decided the 28 was their anniversary? Your circular logic knows no bounds

Harry has not used the 28 number AT ALL. Louis hasn’t used the 28 as his jersey number “often,” he started using it in 2013 when it was assigned to him by the Doncaster Rovers when he was signed as a semi professional player

This is from goal.com, one of the most important sources of soccer information in the world X

The article is from September 2013 and John Ryan, the chairman of the Rovers, explains that 28 was HIS number, that HE used for a match. Soccer players have assigned numbers throughout the season, and the number 28 had been retired from the line up after John Ryan used it in 2003. He decided to bring it back to give it to Louis. And Louis was signed as a soccer player professionally with that number. That’s why it’s important to him, you bag of nonsense. This was his life long dream in the club he loved. He probably spent hours and hours daydreaming about being signed professionally to play soccer and when he finally accomplished that, it was with the number 28, so of course it’s gonna be important to him!

Find ONE INSTANCE of Louis using the number 28 before the summer of 2013. ONE. You won’t! The tattoo came after that, him wearing it on his jerseys came after that. According to Larrie Lore Harry and Louis started dating in 2011 (apparently September 28th 2011, go figure), but for two full years neither of them did anything related to the number 28 whatsoever!

Why didn’t Louis wear the 28 in his first charity match in 2012?

The fact that he wore 17, which is his and Eleanor’s anniversary. LMAO can you say ouch? Furthermore, Louis didn’t CHOOSE the 28, it was ASSIGNED to him because it was the symbolic number the chairman had used back in 2003. It was a retired number that no player had used for 10 years, and they decided to give it to him as a gesture. Man, that would be a HUGE coincidence if out of 40 something available numbers in a soccer line up, Louis had wanted exactly the one that was retired and meant a whole lot for the chairman, instead of the chairman offering it to Louis, like LOGIC says. Another HUGE coincidence that he had not bothered with the 28 at all up until that point and then started having it everywhere. But I thought Larries hated those?

After this you list all the times Louis has used the 28, which there are a lot, but all come after 2013, I don’t want to add more pointless screenshots here. Doncaster Rovers jersey (from 2013 on), dodgeball jersey (2015), in ears (2015), tattoo (2015), BTY music video (2017), LTHQ’s first IG username (2017), his playlist (2018/2019)

How is that... 28? That’s 90028. And this isn’t a date, where you can just pick the number apart as you wish. This is a zip code for a secret show the Rolling Stones played in LA in 2015

Not only that, but Harry (and this is hilariously tragic for you) was ACTUALLY AT THE GIG! THAT’S WHY HE POSTED THE PHOTO!

Posting the screenshot with the date so you can see. May 21st 2015. Article by the LA Times X

This is Harry at the actual gig with Mick Jagger you absolute MORON X

And this is Harry wearing a Rolling Stones shirt the day after the gig because he’s that much of a fanboy

Y’all the second hand embarrassment is K I L L I N G me. CRYING TEARS OF BLOOD OVER THE FACT THAT THIS WAS WRITTEN IN ACTUAL SERIOUSNESS

Why is “professional” in scare quotes?? I can’t believe that you just added 1+2+3+4+5+6+7. Oh my god. I can’t believe I have to say this but *whispers* those are consecutive numbers. They just used consecutive numbers... And why would Harry’s HQ account managed by the team that’s “oppressing them” use a secret code with their beloved 28? How does that make ANY sense?

The article is wrong. He wore TWENTY-SEVEN Gucci suits. I can’t believe that’s a sentence I just typed, but alas

1- Basel, 2- Copenhagen, 3- Hamburg, 4- Milan, 5- Bologna, 6- London I, 7- Hong Kong, 8- Bangkok, 9- Rio de Janeiro, 10- Mexico City I and II (same suit), 11- Houston, 12- Fort Lauderdale 13- Nashville, 14- Hershey, 15- Philadelphia, 16- Toronto, 17- MSG I, 18- DC, 19- Detroit, 20- Indianapolis, 21- Chicago, 22-St. Paul, 23- Denver, 24- Seattle, 25- San Jose, 26- LA I, 27- LA II

In 60 concerts, he also wore Charles Jeffrey 4 times, Saint Laurent 3 times, Palomo Spain 2 times, a custom kilt, Harris Reed 5 times, Clavin Klein 6 times, Alexander McQueen 7 times, Givenchy 4 times. Just so you don’t think I’m purposefully missing out on a suit to make it 27. The article probably counted Mexico’s suit twice. But it’s not 28 suits, it’s 27. The Mexico suit was the same both nights

I would love to know how this would be relevant to Larry or how this would mean the number 28 is important to Harry. Does he have OCD? I don’t get it

Here we have another round of “I will MAKE IT FIT 28 IF IT KILLS ME!”

Let’s see the different tactics that you used

Adding day and month

Taking only the day

Adding day month and year. Except you left out the 2 in 2017. Because otherwise it wouldn't add up. I can’t deal with thisodnadmsla

Harry performed track 2, meaning, his lead single that he was still promoting, Sign of the Times, and 8 Ever since NEW YORK because... he was performing in... New York...

Only the day. Wow, you actually repeated tactics once!

Adding two completely different dates together, that have absolutely no correlation. How are Sweet Creature, Harry’s promo single, and the music video for a different single, related in any way? What? Why not Kiwi’s music video? Why not Two Ghosts music video? Why not the release of either of those singles to radio? Can you make it any more obvious that you’re just pulling this completely out of your ass?

You repeat tactics again, except it’s the most ridiculous tactic of adding all the numbers in the date except the 2 of the year and it’s for “Harry posted link to Twitter to Sign of the Times music video PREVIEW.” Oh my god

And now you’re counting days between two dates, because that’s not unhinged. I’m guessing you mean the April 14th not 24th, but that also wasn’t the date? It was the 13th? It depends on the time zone you were in?

For someone who, according to you, plans with such precise care to match to 28, he didn’t wait until it would be 28 days for everyone. It’s not even because it was tweeted at midnight UK since this is like 3/4 AM UK time. In fact, it wasn’t midnight anywhere relevant (or anywhere, in general since it was at .54 minutes). So not only is this ridiculous, it’s also incorrect

1. That’s not a fan, that’s his cousin, but Larries know barely anything about Harry if it can’t involve Larry so I’m not surprised you don’t know

2. Imagine him asking “please, make the password add to 28“ to his staff. I have tears in my eyes picturing it

3. I CAN’T BREATHE. Y’all are BLIND on top of INCREDIBLY STUPID. That’s THE DATE

That’s his Hamburg concert, which you can tell because of his suit, which was on MARCH 25TH 2018 (he posted the pictures the day after)

AKA 250332018 which is what the password says

You not only confused an 8 with a 9, but also created numbers out of thin air because of a pixel smudge and failed to realize it was the FUCKING DATE. WHICH DOESN’T EVEN ADD TO 28! 2+5+3+2+1+8= 21

This is perhaps the most ridiculous thing written in this post, which is already one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever read. Can you imagine Harry counting to 28 in his head in the middle of the concert? I can’t y’all, this is too much. You’re A GROWN WOMAN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I also found it incredibly suspicious that you didn’t outright link the video which you do throughout the post, and turns out it is because he didn’t pause for 28 seconds (what is this fucking sentence?)

He stops playing and singing at 2.40. Then speaks until 2.43. Then the “pause” which is just him trying to get the audience to stop screaming until 3.07 when he says (I can’t really make it out) “now you” or something like that. And then he says “for your eyes...” and lets the audience sing at 3.09. Literally none of these timestamps add to 28 and he had no way of counting to 28 since he was silencing people the entire time. And just like when he switched “I have love you since we were 18″ to “I have loved you since I was 16″ hitting his own chest, or when he said he fell in love to What Makes You Beautiful, you missed the entire point of this bit, which is Harry’s LOVE FOR HIS FANS

He has loved us since he was 16, he fell in love to us to What Makes you Beautiful, and he was letting us sing that part of the song every concert. He “paused” to shush the nonsensical screams, then he would give the audience the cue and let them sing. Several times he dedicated the song to specific fans in the audience, people with cancer, little kids, a fan that had neck surgery. By making it about Larry, you stripped it from its actual meaning and Harry’s love for his fans. But you always do shit like that

Regardless, he didn’t pause for 28 seconds. Wrong

And you end the post with the most anticlimactic possible tone

Here’s the video

Harry is talking about anniversaries because he’s reading a sign from the audience... about.. anniversaries

Y’all are the definition of clowns. All that fuss for the 28 and THIS is your proof?

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 14

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2800

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We’re getting to the climax of this story, slowly but surely (sorry this is posted so late it’s been a hectic week). Feedback is always appreciated, and if you liked this chapter please reblog or leave me a comment!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14: The Fear of Losing This

There’s truly nothing like successfully descending to Hell and back to boost your ego. You only manage to get a couple of hours of sleep before the excitement of knocking out the rest of the Wonders forces you up. Madison’s obviously not pleased to see you out so soon after she sent you to rest, but you’ve assured her that you’re fine and more than ready to get this over with. Surprisingly, it’s your uncle that is the last to enter the large library. He’s dressed impeccably, wearing an ascot fastened with a brooch like he’s going to a fancy dinner instead of administering a test. The dark eyeliner that he’s so fond of lines his eyes, making the already-startling color pop more.

“Warlocks always take so long to get ready.” Madison scoffs, rolling her eyes while appraising John Henry’s outfit. “At least you clean up well, unlike some of the others I know.”

John looks extremely shocked, and you’re sure that you look the same. Madison actually complimenting one of the dreaded warlocks? Surely this must be the first sign that the apocalypse is here.

“Maybe I can give you some tips, my Lady.” John mocks, smirking while Madison glares at him.

“I have thousands of years worth of fashion under my designer belt but thanks.” She snips, hands on her hips to prove her assertiveness. “(Y/N), let’s start the final three tests now that we’re all here.”

“What’s the first test?”

“Transmutation.” Your lips twitch at the first image that pops into your mind.

“Transforming into a mutant? I thought I was doing witchcraft, not joining the X-Men.” You can’t help but to laugh at your own joke, the hilarity only increased by the exasperated look on Madison’s face.

“I don’t know what an ‘X-Men’ is, and I don’t really care to find out. Think of transmutation like teleporting.” Madison directs you to stand over by the wall as she and John Henry converse quietly.

Your uncle holds his hands up, conjuring two items in thin air: a knife and a brick. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look between the two to see if you can discern what each weapon is going to be used for. They both stare back at you stoically, and you rub your palms against your jeans when you realize that they’re suddenly sweaty with nerves.

“Um, what are those for?” You ask.

“Motivation.” John Henry responds.

Before you can further question him, he flings his hand towards you, the brick flying in your direction. Your eyes widen and you let out a squeak of fear. Apparently practice does help to hone skills, since you barely have to think about the spot on top of the staircase before you feel a tugging sensation right above your navel. You land at your designated spot, knees buckling slightly from the impact. The brick smashes into the space against the wall that your head occupied mere milliseconds before. You smile widely when they turn to look at you, but your sassy sentence dies in your mouth when John repeats the action with his other hand.

A knife is a lot more deadly than a brick, and the deadly precision with which John throws it makes it impossible for you to slip up. It’s also flying towards you much quicker than the previous object, giving you absolutely no time to actually think about where you want to go. All you think is that you want across the room, disappearing right as the point of the knife is an inch away from your chest. This time, you reappear behind both Madison and John. Tapping their shoulders, you jokingly pout when they turn around.

“Uncle, I thought you loved me! How could you attempt to kill me?” You say dramatically, placing a hand over your heart.

“I assure you, I only threw those at you because I knew that you were more than capable of dodging them.”

“Are you ready for the next Wonder, (Y/N). I can always throw some fire at you if you want to really make sure that you have transmutation down.” Madison says.

“Madison, was that a joke?” Madison’s M.O. has always been sarcasm, not straight-up jokes.

“You tell anybody about this and I will throw fire at you.” She threatens, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that lets you know she’s only kidding. “Your second-to-last task will be divination, which is using your supernatural abilities to obtain knowledge of any kind.”

“There are multiple ways to divine knowledge, but we figured that scrying would be the best option.” John Henry steps in.

“What’s scrying?” You ask.

“Scrying is using a reflective surface to gain the desired knowledge. For this exercise, we’ll just be using the mirror.” He gestures towards the floor-length mirror that stands in the corner, ornate gold carvings surrounding the surface. “Hecate, if you would be so kind as to tell (Y/N) the item that she will be finding today.”

“Do you remember the silver flowers you wore in your hair the night of the Underworld’s ball?” She waits for you to nod before continuing. “I’ve hidden those somewhere in this building. Using the mirror, I’d like you to tell me the exact location of these flowers.”

You step in front of the mirror, Madison and John Henry moving to the sides so as not to impede your vision. Taking a deep breath to clear your mind, you imagine the flowers that adorned your hair what feels like a lifetime ago. How dainty they are, the cool silver as you brushed a hand through your hair, how carefully Desa threaded them in for you. Then, you let the tendrils of your magic reach through the mirror. You stare intensely through the surface, watching as it wavers like a lake when a rock gets tossed through the water. Instead of the hiding spot of the flowers, though, the mirror darkens along with the edges of your vision. It feels like your eyes are being drawn into the scene even though you’re not moving at all. All you can see is what’s slowly being revealed in front of you.

A blood-red sky hangs above the scene, smoke rising from the ground and blurring everything that you can see. Your heart pounds when the smoke clears enough for you to see the same throne made of bones that terrorized your last nightmare in the Underworld. Ravens continue to circle above it, calling to each other in a language you can’t understand. You’re not really sure you want to understand it, not with the way these birds are glaring at everything that moves. Even worse, the cracked white face and coal-black eyes that make up Michael’s demonic alter ego are prevalent as he lounges on the throne, looking entirely uninterested at what’s going on around him.

It’s like you’re watching a TV show, but you’re the main character. Another you is forced to your knees on the cracked marble floor, the throne rising up ahead. Red blooms on the white fabric that covers your abdomen, the spot growing larger with every passing second. When you cough, blood spills out of your mouth and dribbles down your chin. Satan stands proudly behind Michael’s throne, pulling himself to his full height since there’s no roof to stop him.

“Do it.” Satan growls. His voice reverberates throughout the room, almost like there’s speakers hanging in multiple spots on the walls.

“Michael, please don’t.” The other you pleads, hands pressing against the wound in order to try and stop the bleeding.

“This is your destiny, my son. Kill the girl.” Michael stares at you for a long moment, but the look in his eyes is impossible to figure out with the lack of color.

Invisible demons are chattering from all around you, yelling and snarling in what you think is Latin. The noises reach a crescendo when Michael stands, producing a blade from inside his cloak. The you on the ground shakes the closer he gets, tears welling up in your eyes from fright. His hand tangles in your hair, and you let out a yell when he yanks you up towards him. Smirking, he curls his lip in disgust when you start audibly crying.

“P-please Michael.” You whimper, gripping his arm tightly. “I love you.”

Michael’s silent for a long moment, and you almost start to think you’ve gotten through to him. His fingers twirl the knife around, a telltale sign that he’s thinking about something. His smirk, however, widens into a feral grin.

“What a pity.” He tuts.

With one swift motion, he turns you so that your back is against your chest. It’s a presentation, you realize, a way to show his father that he’s fulfilling these ‘grand’ plans.

“Don’t do this!” You cry.

“Power in your name, Father, and may you rise from the void!” With that, Michael takes the knife and slices your neck open.

A single, wet gasp escapes your mouth as blood gushes out of the cut. Your heart tries to send more blood to the wound in an attempt to clot it, but that only makes you lose blood faster. It coats the front of the once-white sundress that you were wearing, and you’re horrified to watch yourself die.

“Ave Satanas!” Michael calls out as lightning flashes across the sky and thunder booms. Once he’s sure that you’re completely dead, he tosses your body to the ground like a discarded napkin.

You’re pulled back abruptly, the suddenness of the bright lights making you squint your eyes in pain. There’s a high-pitched screaming echoing through the room, and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s yours. The arms wrapped around you pull you to the ground, holding you tightly in an attempt to sedate you.

“(Y/N)! What happened?” A low voice, that you recognize as John Henry’s, says in your ear.

“Holy shit, you’re bleeding out of your eyes.” Madison notes from where she’s crouched in front of you. When you glance at yourself in the mirror, you see that she’s right. Red streaks down your face, coating your eyelashing in a thick mascara of blood.

“I...it was like that nightmare that I had in the Underworld, the one where Michael was sitting on a throne of bones and eating my heart while Satan stood behind him? Only this time, I watched him kill me. He slit my throat.”

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up.” Madison looks at John, who stands and leaves the room to presumably grab a cloth.

“Why did that happen?” You stare at Madison with wide eyes. How did a simple task spiral into something like this?

“Some people, when attempting scrying, have...I don’t want to say visions, because what you saw is not going to happen. They can see possible futures.” Madison explains gently, taking the wet cloth from John and muttering her thanks.

“So I saw the future?” Holy shit, maybe I am an X-Man, you think to yourself.

“A possible future. There’s a million different things that factor into the probability of a future, creating an endless amount of futures. This doesn’t mean that Michael is going to kill you and start the end of the world, but it’s always been a possibility.” She takes great care in not hurting you when she wipes the blood off of your face, especially when she gets close to your eyes.

“Michael wouldn’t kill me though, right? Even...even if his father corrupted him?”

“Michael wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. Satan would literally have to possess him and carry it out through him in order for Michael to even think about that.” The vision that is still seared into your head is pretty jarring, but the knowledge that Michael was overjoyed to see you just hours ago reassures you that Madison’s right.

“I don’t want to try divination again. I’d rather fail the Seven Wonders than have to look in that mirror for information.”

“You passed.”

“What?” You and John Henry both say at the same time, looking up at Madison in confusion.

“Divination is divining knowledge through supernatural means. You had a vision about the end of the world through looking into a mirror, thus divining the knowledge.”

“Well, definitely never going to use a mirror again if I have to divine something.” You say after a long pause. Madison and John both laugh at your response.

“That’s perfectly okay. Never has any magical being gotten visions from looking at rocks to find knowledge.” John explains.

“If I have it my way, I won’t be doing any divining.” You joke, hugging your knees to your chest. Madison waves her hand, making the now-bloody cloth disappear.

“(Y/N), I know that this was very traumatic for you, so if you would like to suspend testing to rest, we can. But, you do only have one more Wonder to complete.” Madison stands, pulling you to your feet as well.

“What’s the last one?” You ask.

“Vitalum Vitalus.”

“The gift of resurgence.” John Henry fills in when he notices your confusion. “This Wonder involves perfectly balancing the scales between life and death to bring something back to life.”

“Not even Michael can successfully complete this. Seeing as how the prophecy stated that you will be the bridge between the living and the dead, I believe that this will be your most powerful gift.” Madison says.

“Oh God, please don’t do anything fucked up like kill my uncle and make me bring him back.” You roll your eyes.

“Now where would you ever get an idea like that?”

“Hmm, maybe from the fact that you’d love nothing more than to kill a warlock.” You chuckle when Madison smirks, acknowledging defeat.

“Well, we’ll have to find something here that’s dead.”

“It’s a school for warlocks, we keep animals here specifically for this reason.” John Henry interjects, huffing at Madison’s antics before walking out of the room.

You’re anxious, wanting to get this last test over with so you can either reunite with Michael in the Underworld or go back to your home and cry about everything you’ve lost. Sure, you may still have magic, but what use are these gifts if you can’t use them to help save the world? It doesn’t take long for John to return to the room, but by then you’re already up and pacing. He sets the shoebox in his hands down on the table, beckoning you towards him. When you peek into the box, you can’t help but to gasp.

A small rabbit lies dead, nestled on a bed of tissue paper. When you tentatively reach out to touch it, you can feel that it’s still warm.

“Did you kill it?” You ask, an image flashing through your mind of your uncle strangling the helpless creature. John blanches at your expression, awkwardly clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact.

“Bring it back to life.”

Cupping your hands under the rabbit’s body, you shudder as you lift it out of the box. Its body is limp, rigor mortis not yet setting in. Closing your eyes, you focus on the warmth you still feel emanating from the corpse. You imagine the rabbit hopping around, twitching its little nose and suckling from a water bottle in the cute way that all rabbits do. You’re not sure how you know what to do, but something from deep inside you tells you to take a deep breath in before letting it out slowly.

Nothing happens at first. You keep your eyes closed, still focusing on sheer will to bring the rabbit back to life. When you feel the shifting of fur in your palms, you finally open your eyes. The rabbit’s still laying still in your hands, and it takes a moment for you to notice the faint movement as it breathes. Your face lights up when its ears twitch, and you let out a disbelieving laugh when it sits up and stares at you. You don’t know how to react to this situation, so you gently place the rabbit back in the box before looking up at the two who have proctored your tests.

John Henry’s in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Madison just looks extremely pleased, ‘I told you so’ written all over her face. You’re kind of in disbelief yourself, at the moment. Honestly, for everything that completing the Seven Wonders was hyped up to be, it’s more than a little underwhelming now that you’ve actually completed them. You were expecting fireworks to go off and for your hands to start glowing. Nothing’s changed, you don’t feel any different, yet the mere knowledge that you hold this amount of magical abilities somehow changes everything.

Tag List: @nana15774 @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @lichellaw@sebastianshoe@pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dandycandy75 @alexcornerblog @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove@ccodyfern@consultingsnowqueen @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon@sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @omg-hellgirl@gallxntdean@storminmytwistedmind @venusxxlangdon@langdonsdemon@kahhlo @americanhorrorstudies@antichristwrites@xxxmaterialistic @forgetting5sos@sadsadiesworld @michaelsapostle @izuniias

[reddeadinmybed]

Age (M)

When I was 14 years old, Hosea Matthews and his wife Bessie saved me from two men. They were cousins who they tried to rape me and they wanted to kill me after they had finished the deed.

Hosea had come in guns blazing, shooting the two crazy bastards whilst Bessie dragged me out of the house. I stood there for a few minutes, shocked that someone like Hosea was able to put down two friends so easily. How his cattleman revolver fitted so perfectly in his hand as he blew a bullet through each other their skulls.

After that incident, Hosea and Bessie decided that they would informally ‘adopt’ me. They didn’t sign any papers, they just gave me the opportunity to go with them, and who was I to refuse. I accepted and for six years, I had followed them.

When I was 17, Bessie passed away. I wasn’t there when she died, I was (as much as I hate to admit this) having sex with my boyfriend in the middle of nowhere. When I came back home, Hosea had told me what had happened.

He looked so torn, so heartbroken. I was too but he looked like his life had been torn away from him. I – once again, hating to admit – didn’t like that at all. I wanted him to look at me with the love that he looked at Bessie with. I wanted him to love me. I wanted him to be mine.

I had grown an obsession for Hosea Matthews, and I knew I was the only one reciprocating.

I wanted him to want me so I tried to make him jealous. It started off small, such as me telling him that I was spending the night with my boyfriend and not returning for a couple of nights. Sometimes I feared he wouldn’t be there when I came back but he was, waiting for me.

He scolded me a lot of the time but I didn’t feel as if it was from jealousy. He called me reckless and immature. I didn’t like it, so I made my advances much stronger.

I started to wear smaller clothes. Clothes that made my boobs hang out more and I had even gone to the extent to bring my boyfriend home and practically fuck him on the couch when Hosea was there. I was so sure that it would work.

He walked in on us a few times, Hosea was clearly mad but I still didn’t think it was out of jealousy, rather it was just pure anger.

Now, I’m 20 and Hosea is nearly in his 60’s and I’m still head over heels for him. I have done almost everything I can to try and get him.

Being in the Dutch Van Der Linde gang, I’ve tried to flirt with Javier, Bill, Arthur and even Charles to try and get his attention but it never seemed to work.

At least, I didn’t think it did.

Tonight I had something planned, I was hoping that it would be the last straw. I want Hosea to fuck my brains out and tell me what a bad girl I was. Lusting after a taken man and a man that’s old enough to be my father. It should be illegal. But I want him and I’m sure this plan would work.

I just have to make sure I do things right.

“Hosea?” I called out, waiting for a response. It was silent for a bit, I was starting to think he wasn’t even at the camp.

I was just about to call out his name once more when the sheet to my tent opened up, leaving Hosea to look at me. His gaze was...indescribable. It was probably because I was wearing nothing but my undergarments.

“Yes Y/N?” His voice was hard, almost as if he didn’t want to be there at all.

My heart skipped a beat and a sliver of hurt ran through me as he spoke. Was he really not that interested in me? Was I doing this for nothing?

“My back hurts Hosea, are you able to rub it?” He and I fully knew well that for him to reach my back, I was going to have to take my clothes off.

I was sure this plan was going to work. If it doesn’t then I’m at the point of giving up on Hosea. Javier has shown some interest, but he was never able to get me as excited as Hosea.

“Why don’t you get Mr Escuella or even Mr William’s to do it for you. You seem to get along with those boys much better, huh?” He sounded...mad. Only this time, it actually sounded like...jealousy?

A small smirk fell onto my face. Does this mean what I think it means? Was Hosea finally interested me even after all these years of him without Bessie? Was this finally my time?

“I could never Hosea. They both know you’re my favourite. Please rub my back?” I asked once again, putting on a sweet smile to show my ‘innocence’.

I was far from innocent. Hosea was older than me, therefore he had a lot of experience. If I ever wanted to be with him, I’d need to have experience. That’s why I slept around with my old boyfriend for so long. As mean as this sounds, I was never really attracted to him. He just gave me what I needed.

“Alright then, I’ll do it for you,” Hosea mumbled and stepped into the tent. He closed it after himself and I let out a grin.

I turned around and pulled my undergarments off, exposing my back to him. The light was lit, allowing him to fully see the bare skin. I was excited, I couldn’t wait to see where this headed.

I heard Hosea sigh and the dip in the bed indicated that he was sitting on the bed now too. I waited to feel his hands make contact with my skin. To rub his hands down to my waist and massage it, making me feel good.

After a few seconds, hands pressed against my upper back, near my shoulders. He gripped the skin and slowly started to massage. I let out a groan at the feeling. His hands were a mix between hard and soft, making the perfect balance on my soft back.

He massaged lower down my back and I let out the occasional groan here and there. It was time to step up my game, make things seem dirty.

“Oh yes Hosea, right there. That feels so good.” I moaned out as he gripped my waist.

Hosea’s hands retracted immediately and his breath halted as the noise fell from my hips.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hosea mumbled out, shocked from my cheeky scene.

I turned around, exposing my breasts to him. His eyes flicked down before flicking back up upon realising my bare breasts were facing him, my nipples hard for him.

“Hosea, please. I’ve wanted you ever since you saved me. I’ve fallen in love with you. I want you to fuck me on this bed, I want to be with you.” I pleaded, pressing against him.

Hosea looked at me shocked, not attempting to move.

“Y/N, listen, I think you need to think –”

“I’ve been thinking about you all the time and that’s my problem! I tried to make it so obvious for you, I practically had James fuck me on the couch just so you could see me as a woman. I want you, every time I fuck someone, I think it’s you. Please, fuck me, Hosea!” I sounded like a slut, but I didn’t care.

I wanted Hosea.

Something flicked in Hosea’s eyes for a millisecond before disappearing. It looked like desire but I could never be too sure.

“We can’t Y/N. I’m too old for you, please –”

“I don’t care how old you are Hosea, I want you, please. Please be mine!” I cut him off again, not wanting to hear excuses.

Hosea was silent for a bit before the look he previously had, fell on his face again. Desire filled his eyes as he looked down at my bare breasts.

“Strip and get on all fours.” Was all he said and he didn’t have to say it twice. I stood up and basically ripped my undergarments off before getting back on the bed, on all fours just like he said.

I waited for his next order but it never came. It was silent and I couldn’t hear anything behind me. I was starting to get nervous, was he going to do anything?

Then, hands gripped my thighs. He pulled on them and I felt something wet hit my clit. Suddenly euphoria filled me as Hosea starter to eat me out. I gasped in pleasure, lurching forward, my ass still sticking in the air.

I gripped the bed cover to try and grip onto something but the pleasure was too much. Hosea’s right hand travelled up my thigh, causing me to shiver. It travelled from my thigh to my core where he inserted a finger. He slowly thrusted his finger in and out as he continued to suck and lick on my clit.

“Oh yes Hosea, yes, keep going.” I moaned out, my face pressed against the bed.

The encouragement left Hosea to insert another finger, the pace getting quicker. His fingers slammed into my pussy and then slowly retracted them, repeating the process over and over.

The feeling of Hosea’s fingers and him licking my clit was sending waves upon waves of pleasure to run through me, making my legs shake.

“Yes! Just like that, keep going, Hosea.” I panted out, feeling my stomach tightening, my orgasm fast approaching.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped. His fingers left my pussy and his face stopped licking my clit. I huffed in anger, pushing myself up to see why he stopped.

Then all of a sudden, I was thrown down onto the bed and pinned. Hosea was on top of me, an angry look on his face. I heard a zip and I tried to look down but Hosea forced me to look at him.

“You’ve been a slut, fucking James and flirting with all the boys in the camp. All for what? So you can finally get to fuck me. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m even going to fuck you after all those stunts, little girl.” He spat, slapping my pussy, causing a squeal to leave my mouth.

“All those times I caught you on the couch, James’ head down in between your legs. Did he ever make you feel good huh?” Hosea asked and I ignored his comment, excited to see what would happen.

Hosea didn’t like that.

He slapped my pussy again and growled out, “I said did he ever make you feel good?” I shook my head.

“No Hosea, they didn’t. Please, please fuck me!” I begged and he chuckled.

“All those little boys didn’t know how to pleasure you. Well, I’ll show you real pleasure.” He chuckled once again.

“I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked like a man.” With that, he slammed his length into me.

Thanks for the reads.

- REDDEADINMYBED

[loljulie]

flicker; {007} on the loose

(i am SO sorry this took forever to write!! i just moved into my studio apartment yesterday and i’m still in the process of moving things around. thankfully, i had most of this written before the move so i was able to finish it this morning before moving some more [D:] i hope you guys enjoy it, i have some rlly interesting things planned for the next chapter! love you!)

genre: detroit: become human

deviant!Connor x reader

word count: 3071

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The sun had already set as you paced around your living room floor, anxiously squeezing your hands as time slowly trudged by. The dark clothes you had just bought at the thrift store that day were folded on your couch, waiting to be adorned.

By the time you had exited the police station to help Hank calm down, the man was nowhere to be found. Instead of tracking him down at his usual whereabouts, you opted to hurry home and help prepare in case Connor needed your help.

It had been 15 minutes since you got home, though it felt like it had been an hour. All you could do was pace back and forth and worry about what could’ve happened to Connor. When you checked the time on your phone again, a minute hadn’t even passed. You let out a sigh of frustration.

Heavy and fast knocking suddenly interrupted your antics. You crossed the room in a matter of seconds and pulled open the door with lightning speed.

“Connor,” you breathed out, instantly pulling him into a hug. Seeing him well and alive in front of you was such a relief that you momentarily forgot all about what was going on in the world and held him tightly.

When his arms were wrapped around you, nothing else mattered. Safety and comfort were the only two things you could’ve used to describe how it felt to be in his arms. You dreaded the moment you had to let go, but also knew that it had to be done.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” he whispered as you pulled away. You didn’t realize that in his embrace, some tears of relief escaped your eyes. He wiped them away and kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes at his touch, and enjoyed how gentle and thoughtful the gesture was.

You wordlessly walked over to the couch and held up the clothes you bought for him. He nodded approvingly at them and removed his jacket. Silently, you stepped in front of him and grabbed his tie. Slowly, you began to loosen it and brought his face closer to yours in the process. Connor didn’t waste any time in closing the distance between your lips.

He brought one of his hands to rest on the nape of your neck gingerly, as he kept his lips pressed firmly on yours. You completely undid his tie and tossed it to the side, not once breaking the kiss, and began to unbutton his shirt. With everything going on, it probably wasn’t best for the kiss to linger as long as it did, but neither of you seemed to care.

It was only when you stumbled backwards onto the couch, Connor landing with you, that the embrace broke. Though your lips were apart, Connor kept his face unbearably close to your own.

“(Y/N)...,” he said faintly, as if struggling to take breaths he didn’t need. His brown eyes traveled between your lips and your eyes. “If something goes wrong later…”

You cut him off with a brief kiss, not wanting to even think about what his words implied.

“It won’t,” you reassured, though it was mostly to make you feel better. “You have to promise that you’ll come back to me.”

You brought up your pinky finger in between your faces. He smiled fondly at you before wrapping his pinky around yours and giving it a squeeze. Though somewhat childish in nature, the promise filled you with more hope than before.

After giving you another light kiss, Connor got up and finished undressing himself. It was hard for you not to interrupt him, and distract him with a flurry of kisses. You knew that time was running out, and that what he was about to accomplish was far more important.

Connor had just adjusted the large jacket over his shoulders as you walked up to him, a black beanie in hand. He let you reach up and place it over his head, watching you with solemn eyes.

“This…” you started as your fingers pulled the hem of the beanie over his LED, “is actually mine. I expect you to bring it back to me in person.”

Connor nodded, smiling softly at you. For a moment, there was only silence between the two of you, as if there was so much you needed to say but couldn’t. You briefly wondered if you’d regret not saying more to him in that moment, in case anything happened to him, but the look he had in his eyes told you he already knew what you wanted to say.

He pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you around the shoulders one last time before he pulled away and walked toward the door. You watched, tears stinging your eyes, as he began to leave.

“Wait, Connor,” you called out, as his frame was half-hidden by the ajar door. Your voice was soft and cracked with emotion. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The door closed softly, and with it, Connor’s figure disappeared. You finally dared to take a deep breath, and collapsed onto your couch, letting tears stream down your face. Whatever happened to Connor was out of your hands now, and you desperately hoped he would come back to you in one piece.

-

Images of a blazing fire flashed on your screen as news reporters described what was happening. Their words were only a faint murmur to your ears, as you could only focus on the orange flames in front of you. The entire time, you had only one thought.

Connor.

Your stomach twisted and churned as you worried about what could’ve happened to him. As much as you hoped he had made it out in time, there were so many doubts running through your head about his safety. Hot tears began to trickle down your face as you struggled to imagine a pessimistic reality.

Your phone chirped loudly from the coffee table. You wiped away a few tears and picked it up, seeing Hank’s caller ID through a blurred vision.

“Hank,” you greeted, your voice thick from the lump in your throat, “are you okay?”

“Fine,” he responded, and you thought you could sense a hint of slur to his words. “But it sounds like you aren’t.”

You tried to swallow the dry lump down, but to no avail, and stayed silent. If you said anything more, you might unleash a flood gate of tears and emotion.

“I’ve been seeing it all on the news,” Hank went on, not waiting for an answer from you. “I don’t know what Connor is doing anymore but… I hope it’s the right thing.”

You should’ve let him in on everything at that moment. After all, what difference would it make if Connor was…. You shook the thought from your head, and with it, the chance to tell Hank the truth.

“Me too,” you agreed. Hank could tell there was something hidden behind your answer, but he ignored it.

“Hank, will you tell me when you get home?” You suddenly asked. For some reason, seeing his wrinkled, gruffy face was all you wanted to do in that moment. You needed comfort.

“How’d you know I wasn’t home already?” He retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice despite the ongoing events. You broke into a small smile.

“I’ve known you for too long,” you replied, feeling a flicker of warmth already. “I’ll stop by later, okay?”

After Hank agreed, though he insisted he would take his time at Jimmy’s bar, you hung up the phone and placed it face down on the couch beside you. Anxiously, you resumed watching the TV screen in front of you, waiting to hear anything more about the ‘android revolution’.

A knock came from your front door. You froze, as if glued to the spot, and didn’t dare to breathe in case it was a part of your imagination. When the knock repeated itself, more hurried the second time, you sprung to your feet and crossed the room in milliseconds.

You couldn’t explain the concoction of emotions that swirled inside of you when you saw Connor beyond the door. All you knew was that it spurred you to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him inside and into a kiss.

He reciprocated instantly and placed a hand on your back to help guide you inside. His foot closed the door behind him as you two entered. In a fast motion, his large jacket was off and thrown to the side. All of a sudden, he grabbed your thighs and picked you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried you until your back was pressed up against the wall next to your bedroom door. At that moment, he pulled away from the kiss and let you catch your breath.

“I was worried I wouldn’t make it back to you,” he admitted under his breath as he examined every inch of your face. “I don’t know how, but they tracked me all the way to Jericho.”

You cupped his face with your hands and forced him to look into your eyes. “But you’re here now, right?”

A dark look passed ephemerally through Connor’s eyes. “(Y/N), actually, there’s something else I need to do.”

You felt your heart drop. Whatever it was, you knew it would be dangerous.

“I’m going to infiltrate the CyberLife tower and convert the androids there,” he explained, not being able to meet your gaze. “It might help shift the balance of power for the androids.”

You watched him carefully. The knot in your stomach that had started to unwind in Connor’s presence was tightening once more. You knew that his tactics made sense, but you hated that it put him in more danger.

“I wouldn’t do it unless I had to,” he insisted, but your mind had already begun to accept it. You nodded silently to him.

“I understand,” you looked into his eyes solemnly. “Just… come back to me, okay?”

He gave you a small smile before he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. You could sense a hint of nervousness in his actions, as if he was worried this could be the last moments he got to spend with you. Yet, you also sensed an air of confidence from him - maybe due to the fact that the android revolution was starting to look promising, or maybe because he was glad to have something that made it all worth it. Either way, the confidence seeped through his voice as he whispered against your lips, causing your heart to race.

“Always.”

-

Time was of the essence, so the knock at your front door was probably for the best. Whoever had arrived outside your apartment had stopped you and Connor from going too far in your passionate embrace, which had gone from your living room wall to the bed.

You groaned when you heard the knocking, and forced yourself away from Connor, though his completely bare chest and unbuckled jeans made it hard for you to do so. As you exited your bedroom, you nodded toward your closet.

“Your old uniform is in there,” you informed. Connor gave you a puzzled look. “Just in case whoever’s out there isn’t… on our side, I guess.”

You couldn’t really describe what that meant, you just knew it was a good idea for Connor to have some sort of escape plan. He was technically still a criminal of sorts.

Fortunately, you were still fully clothed after your time with Connor. Though a sliver of the bedroom door was left open, you decided that the centimeter it showed wouldn’t be too dangerous. Besides, you half expected the unknown visitor outside to be your elderly neighbor or a landlord.

Who you were met with stunned you, to say the least.

In your doorframe, his figure leaning against one side of it, was Gavin Reed.

You were so caught off guard, seeing your coworker in front of you that late at night, that you were silent for a few moments. He took the silence as an invitation to come inside, and soon Gavin was pacing around your living room floor.

“Nice place,” he sized up. His words weren’t completely slurred, but his actions were slower than usual. The faint smell of alcohol burned your nostrils. He nodded to the fire escape window. “I see the broken window thing was actually real.”

“Of course it was,” you answered, watching him warily and hoping he didn’t decide to stumble into your bedroom. “What are you doing here? How did you even get my address?”

“You’re a cop, I’m a cop,” he answered vaguely, taking a few uneven and wobbly strides back toward you.

Outside, you heard a police car whizz by. Gavin chuckled scornfully.

“It’s fucking crazy out there,” he spat, gesturing toward your window. “Androids acting human. What’s next? My fucking coffee machine telling me it doesn’t want to do its job anymore?”

You could sense the venom dripping from his voice had been brewing inside him for a while. The alcohol was only making it apparent.

“Gavin, you’re buzzed,” you said lightly, not trying to aggravate him. It was hard to keep your voice calm, as you were constantly aware of Connor in the other room. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

Gavin’s eyes suddenly focused on the large jacket on the floor. He raised an eyebrow at it, causing your stomach to fill with dread.

“Who’s is that?” He asked.

“Mine,” you answered quickly before your brain could even catch up. You went along with the lie, hoping your story would make sense. “A… friend of mine wants to take me camping in a couple weeks. I was just trying to find my biggest coat.”

Gavin nodded thoughtfully at your response. After a few moments of silence, he shrugged. “‘S a cold winter.”

You felt your stomach knotts loosen momentarily. At least you were good at thinking on the spot.

“You know, with all this shit going on, we may die tomorrow,” the way he pointed out the possibility unsettled you. His demeanor was less upset than earlier, and you could pick up on the implication in his voice. “Might as well make the night last, if that’s the case.”

“Gavin, please, tonight isn’t the night for this,” you didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but his tireless flirtations were difficult to handle at work and unbearable in your own home. “I’ve got a lot going on.”

Gavin put his hands up in a surrender motion. “I get it,” he said, and began slowly walking past you and to the door. Something caused him to pause in his walk, however, as he swiveled toward you again.

“You aren’t trying to do one of those ‘hard to get’ things right now, are you?” he questioned, and took a step closer to you and away from the door. His face became so close to yours that you could smell the alcohol instantly. “Because I can absolutely play along.”

A thump came from your bedroom. You closed your eyes shut at the noise, trying to think of an excuse. Gavin pulled away from your face slightly and looked at your bedroom door.

“What the hell was that?” He asked. You blurted out a response to keep him from investigating.

“My cat,” you hastily replied, and began to form an explanation. “She’s really sick and I have to take care of here. The room is a mess from all of that.”

Gavin’s eyes were still glued to the door, but his head slowly turned to face you again.

“That’s… why tonight doesn’t work, I promise,” you went on, hoping this would get him to leave your apartment.

“Didn’t know you had a cat,” he concluded before stepping back and giving you two some space. Neither did you.

“Well, good luck with that,” Gavin’s head nodded to your bedroom door. A slight grimace overcame his expression, as if imagining what mess could be made from a sick cat. He walked to the front door. “I’ll see you around.”

When the door closed behind him, you let out a long breath of air and felt your shoulders relax. Gavin had been so close to finding Connor, and the entire situation made you more tense than you thought.

Your bedroom door opened to reveal Connor in his CyberLife suit. His eyes were trained on you as he stepped forward. You could sense some guilt etched into his stare.

“I’m sorry,” he started as he approached you. “I heard what he was saying to you and I just… I tried to come out here without thinking.”

The cause of the thump made much more sense now. Connor sighed, and you could sense that he was upset with himself. You closed the gap between you two and reached your hand to his face. He looked into your eyes at your comforting touch.

“Don’t apologize,” you said, your voice soft and low. “I’m just glad we’re both okay.”

You reached up and planted a short kiss on his lips. His demeanor softened when your lips touched his. When you pulled away, Connor rested his forehead against yours and smiled gently at you.

Every part of you wished the two of you could’ve stayed in that soothing and delicate moment forever. Time, however, was slowly dwindling and you knew that Connor would have to leave you once more.

“Be safe,” your feeble voice could only manage a few words as your throat tightened. “And come back. Please.”

Connor answered your plea with an indulgent kiss. Though you loved the feeling of his lips on yours, this kiss left you sad as it reminded you that you might never get to experience it again.

When Connor did leave a few moments later, you felt sullen and empty. With your back pressed against the door, you took some time to think about all the things rushing through your mind. Worry seemed to be the biggest and most overwhelming thought.

Suddenly, you realized that sulking around in your apartment was the last thing you wanted to do. If you were going to worry about Connor, you could at least do it with someone you trusted and desperately wanted to fix things with. After you changed into some warmer clothes, you  reached for your phone and dialed Hank.

[metropoworld]

The Fierce Code

a  M E T R O P O  short story by Magnus Aspli

Lance stood in his cramped apartment, a sigh building up from his lungs, the beeps of a hung up telecall in his earpiece, and the sound of cursing in his brain. He wondered for a millisecond if thoughts ever had been recorded into soundwaves and concluded he’d never heard of that and shifted gears back to his main concern.

Trevor was in trouble again.

Twins were supposed to know, to feel, when there was something odd, or wrong, with the other. Lance was pretty sure he’d read that on some clickbaiter.

Wreckshit.

Lance hadn’t felt a thing. He’d been perfectly content eating synthetic beef jerky, watching his baby daughter sleep and scratching Spiffy behind his left ear. The right ear was no good, ever since the fur had begun to come off. Lance knew there would be a lot of minor maintenance needed on Spiffy the day he bought him, but he’d been cheap and looked real cute. The fact Mirra didn’t approve of getting a dog, a faux pet as she always—annoyingly—made sure to point out, had closed the deal for Lance.

All the annoying bits and bobs about Mirra that gnawed at him had seemed petty when she succumbed to prenatal depression, refused the cheaper Medica Invest Anti-Depression Drug Plan™ and opted for virtual reality therapy. Eventually she was mindlost, on mythic beaches, in warm sea wind and with soothing bird chirps. Lance had stopped repeating her belittling fancy words against her then, at least out loud. As the technicians concluded, she’d been too immersed and pulling her out would lead to suicidal depression at best and brain damage at worst. In the murky parts of his mind Lance wondered if Mirra had gotten a better deal than him.

Mirra gave birth in the tiny VR cubicle. Peeling paint on cheap plastic walls. A basic Medbot assisting an unlicensed nurse with a VR technician making sure the systems were stable. Mirra’s body shaking in pain and exhaustion. Her mind blissful at some long gone Asian beach. The techie, who was binging a historical documentary about nations at the same time as having one eye on the systems, had assured Lance, who had been forced to wait in the crowded narrow hallway between cubicles, that everything would be all right.

A little girl had tried to sell him plastic roses while he was stacking some trash to stand on so he could peer over the cubicle wall.

Spiffy had sat beside Lance, wagging his tail throughout the whole ordeal. He’d barked and yipped as the cubicle door opened. A baby girl was handed to Lance as his earpiece had chimed with the medical invoice dropping at the same time. Mirra’s insurance would not cover the delivery as it was already running on her VR therapy and Lance knew this, but he didn’t care. The baby girl he held in his arms as Spiffy tugged at his shoe had stolen his heart.

“Idiot.” Lance said into the room, wishing Trevor would hear it and hang his head in shame. Then the deep sigh erupted.

Trevor had probably had a worse life than his brother, but Lance was forever jealous of the victories in his life. Stupid and short-lived victories, yes, but crime doled out short bursts of quick cash, thrills and what Lance assumed was happiness. Trevor had never been good at stepping away when on top of a situation, though. Hence the short-lived victories. Because Lance couldn’t help but feel jealous when his brother showed up with more credits than Lance had ever had, he reveled in schadenfreude when the tide turned against Trevor.

Yet, he loved his brother, and this call had sounded high on the not-good scale.

“Idiot,” he proclaimed again.

Spiffy looked up at him with the tilted head of an inquisitive terrier. In the beginning Lance had been quite impressed with all the neat behavioral algorithms Spiffy performed, despite not really knowing much how real dogs behaved. He’d seen a few, up in the higher levels. Stared after them with deep curiosity, as most low-levelers would do. But never touched one. Never felt real fur between his fingers. Those who could afford real dogs could also afford bodyguards and security personnel. Touching a dog without permission was something you wouldn’t do unless you enjoyed being arrested, or had a kink for getting shot. Trevor had seen it happen when he was fleetingly part of an animal kidnapping gang.

Lance paced the apartment once, twice and one last time trying to make up his mind. Should he head out quickly and rescue Trevor, or let him sort out his own shit? He knelt by Hannah and the makeshift table-turned-crib. Five months to the day. Her face of sleep the calmest thing Lance had ever known and would know.

He thought of bringing her along, bundled up and sleeping in the brown blankets, safe in his arms as he biked down to level C and into the Restless quadrant, but quickly thought better of it. If she woke…

It was called Quad Restless for a reason.

A sudden ounce of sadness, as if something intangible dropped from his throat and into his lower gut, hit him. If only he had money for proper stuff. He’d seen the baby stores with their monitored cribs. Even to lease, they were way above his budget. As his brain’s train of thought ended on the concept of budget the sadness stuck and lingered.

Hannah’s calm face was both a trigger and an antidote to such feelings. Lance ran the back of his index finger with utmost care and love up and down Hannah’s warm cheek. Spiffy was on two legs next to Lance’s knee, his paws on the mattress edge, his face a panting plethora of happiness and curiosity. Lance smiled at his best friend and scratched his head.

A bit of fur came off and Lance shook and blew his hand to let it drop to the floor. Buddy, the little vacuumbot he’d found in a dumpster several years ago was extra handy now that Spiffy was shedding hair like an actual animal. There were quite a few promises from the company who sold him the dog that Lance eventually had to accept were pure wreckshit. Yet, ironically and comfortingly, this made Spiffy more real.

Lance went over to his bed and lifted the mattress to get to the storage space beneath. Boxes of clothes, drone parts and junk. He rummaged around in the latter and, after a few sighs and curses, found his old social device. The Taco10, which was practically useless after last year’s system upgrade by TeleCine. Its dull grey frame light in his hand.

He had a plan. A pretty uncertain one, but a plan nonetheless.

The hallway outside his apartment was particularly cold this evening. As happened more and more often since the scraper had been sold to another estate firm, the ventilation fell out now and then and clearly needed a solid overhaul and repair. A job Lance himself had tried to be part of and had pitched the janitor several times. Every time the janitor had shaken his ugly face and sputtered words about cost and money.

Lance knelt by the door to give Spiffy a quick goodbye rub.

“I’ll be back in a little while, buddy. You be quiet and watch the place, okay? Keep Hannah company, but no barking.”

The vacuumbot came whirring.

“Not you,” Lance rolled his eyes. “Back to your dock, Buddy,” he commanded in a low and clear voice. He’d tried plenty of times since getting Spiffy to change the vacuumbot’s call name, to no avail.

He stood.

Spiffy turned a few times and headed back into the apartment, sat down in the middle, eyeing Lance, then the crib, then Lance again and wagged its tail.

The door slid shut and Lance pulled his coat on properly. The soft clang of his boots on the metal grating of the hallway filled the long but narrow space as he made his way outside.

Moist air and drizzle greeted his face, soft and pleasant in contrast to the blare of the city. The next-door sushi and comdevice joint had changed the colour of their sign again. Yesterday people’s faces and the bots’ surfaces had been bathed in violet. Today they were neon yellow. He pulled on his biker cap.

Lance joined in on the moving stream of people and machines on the walkway. Sliding in behind a Red Blood priest and his two zealots, cutting in front of a gorgeous android prost with her this is an android sign matching her red metallic lips.

The queue to the garage reel was—luckily—short and consisted of two people. They were also getting their dronebikes out. Lance was on his a minute later and hovered carefully out into the wide traffic airlane between his scraper and the one opposite. As much as his body wanted to spur his bike into the lane and shoot off towards the intersection that would allow him down to the lower level, his brain had noticed the SecForce traffic drone that hung silently above. He could not afford a chase or a fine tonight. Or any night these days.

As he flew towards the Happy High Five intersection Lance tapped his biker cap and its holodisplay came on. Speed, distance, altitude… the works. All the metrics of traffic life shone in bright green in front of his head. Most important to him was the TigerTooth icon that blinked, then became solid and made him smile. He’d connected his cap through his Taco11 to his old device, which rested on a shelf next to Hannah’s makeshift crib. Any sound she made, he’d hear, thanks to the long range of the TigerTooth link. Although it made both his shoulders and his anxiety chillax some, a vague murmuring in the back of his occipital lobe told him he had forgotten something.

Lance waved all the way through the Happy High Five intersection. Waved off all the synth-food drones, that is, with their promises of tasty lab grown snacks and beverages, all approaching with beaming smileys and jingles played with light, happy notes. He found the downward airlane as fast as dronebike-and-humanly possible, and down he went. The butterflies in his stomach the opposite of restless as he and a hundred other vehicles plummeted down. Down to the next level fifty meters below, then the next, fifty more meters. Slotting in perfectly in the speedlane, Lance kicked his bike to top speed and raced towards the quad five quadrants ahead, Quad Restless. Limos, autotaxis and SecForce drones and pursuit vehicles occupied the lane with him.

He passed the C-Level Transhuman Hospital, where, in his darkest moments as newborn Hannah cried and cried, he had contemplated bringing her. Delivering her. The hospital becomes a blur of neon strips in the corner of his eye, like the memory.

As Lance rushed past SmartClothing shops, a temple and a gang of kids having a drone fight, the holonumbers told him he was just two kilometers from Quad Restless and the estimated time on arrival to Trevor’s location was four minutes.

Lance eased his dronebike into a temporary parking space on a wall scaffolding just outside the Court, the hub of Quad Restless. The people streaming like cells in arteries on the walkways to and fro the Court seemed unending. The throb of every imaginable music pounded through Lance’s body as he slipped into the stream and was washed into the boiling pot that was the place to be in Sector 3.

The Court, a plaza that opened up into once-old grand architecture stretching skyhigh was now a patchwork of artistic expression, light and sound pollution, all clamouring for attention from every nook and cranny. Lance waved his way through dancers, spectators, buyers and sellers. Humans and machines. The club Trevor claimed to be in was opposite the plaza and Lance could see its entrance through the splashes of colour and strobing flashes of light and the occasional naked body part.

Every now and then, Lance thought he heard Hannah in his earpiece and had to stop, but it was just the plethora of sounds from the Court, and his mind, tricking him. He forced himself not to worry, but that vague murmuring he’d felt earlier had only grown.

In line for the club Lance tried his best to avoid social interaction. He noticed several others with masks and holodistorters. Displaying your identity was, for some, a weak spot. Restless was known to be a haven for synthetic euphoria and crime, from the casual pickpocket-y kind to the rumoured (but not debunked) subcity slave trade. When you house and entertain a scourge of thrillseekers and illicit money makers, crime comes with it like some incurable STD. SecForce rarely came down to Restless and if they did it was usually in droves. When he was younger and a frequent visitor to Restless and its Court, social media was buzzing with news—fake, illicit and real—that SecForce were in unending lawsuits with another security firm about the territory in this quad. Babylon Security wanted their piece of the pie. Likely a huge factor why they, even up until this day, rarely bothered to poke their taser stick in this teeming beehive.

Finally inside, only having had to engage in two awkward conversations about proposed sexual activity in the queue, Lance found the third balcony. Up there he could see the small club in all its splendour. A thousand high and sweating bodies, some moving like fluid, some like a crashed drone bouncing through oncoming traffic.

Trevor sat in the corner. Short chameleon trousers and a deep-black hoodie. His hood was pulled down casting his face in shadow. Lance knew it was him from the tough-guy posture, and the unnaturally defined calves. One of Trevor’s slightly failed shortcuts when chasing the perfect body. Before Lance stepped over his mind rummaged around the question of the perfect body. Who knew what that was these days?

After having smiled with genuine relief of seeing Lance and having clumsily hid his handgun, after telling Lance it was mighty great of him to come down—keeping his voice so low it croaked—and after explaining his predicament that a cage fighting club that allowed biomechanically enhancement had refused to turn the other cheek after discovering the miracle protein supplement Trevor had supplied them with was a hoax at best and a health danger at worst, Trevor put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and led him towards an exit.

“So how are you and Sarah doing?”

Lance wasn’t surprised.

“Her name is Hannah.”

“Shit, I knew that.”

Trevor tried to keep the conversation going, but just as he was about to say something he spotted a threat near the exit.

“What is it?”

“It’s them.”

Two women with glowing tank tops, bodies built to maximum muscular power, peered out over the crowd.

“I don’t think they’ve seen us,” Trevor whispered, but he was wrong.

The two bulging pieces of human flesh elbowed their way toward Lance and Trevor. Curses and shouts.

“Wrong.” Lance pointed out.

Trevor pulled him in the other direction, but against the river of people and sexbots exiting, their progress was slow. Too slow. The women closed in and before they managed to slip out of the stream both Lance and Trevor were picked up like ragdolls. Strong fingers tight around their necks and balls. They cried out but with each yelp the grip on their crotch increased and so did the pain.

“Put me down, I don’t know him!” In Lance’s head they were words, but when they escaped his mouth they were like some fading corrupted audio signal.

Carrying them over their heads, the two ladies of ill-intent walked through the exit. Outside, the exo-skelled bouncers paid them no heed. The pain blotched out Lance’s vision. When it suddenly let go he was airborne. He and Trevor flew down the stairs of a side alley. The pain returned in staccato jolts as they crash landed and tumbled down the steel-grated steps. They came to a halt in a heap at the bottom. Whatever human activity was going on down in the alley it quickly scurried off.

“Think I broke a finger!” Lance moaned as he tried to find his bearing, but already the two superior antagonists were descending the stairs with chuckles and promises of more pain. Lance tried to haul Trevor up for an escape, but he knew instantly from the weight of Trevor’s body it was utterly futile.

“Some help would be nice!” Trevor croaked through soon-to-be knocked out teeth.

If only he could give Trevor a long piece of his mind, to tell him how his full terrible and reckless life had led to this and how he should be utterly ashamed of how he’d brought his own brother down with him, and that his brother had something important in his life now, a daughter and by the gods if anything were to happen he would haunt Trevor for the rest of eterni--

The booming sound echoed through Lance’s ears and mind. Two more cracking booms followed. Trevor held the gun with confidence even if his arm shook and his face bled. Like a sack of something heavy one of the ladies fell down the steps and skidded to a grating halt. The other one knelt as if in an awkward ritual, clutching her thigh. If Lance had been the owner of a high-end spectral contact lens he would have seen the soundwaves filling the air with excruciating pain.

Five minutes later, bodies aching and the taste of blood in their mouths, Lance and Trevor sat hunched behind a pile of spent electric gear somewhere in the darker parts of the Restless quadrant. After having cursed and bitten away the pain they had been able to run. Even here, in this forgotten walkway only drifters and dumpster drones came through, the sounds of entertainment and vibrations of music penetrated. Lance and Trevor hadn’t dared to speak during their escape but now Trevor was ready to apologise to Lance and admit he’d never shot anyone before and how it wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all and that he would get rid of the gun as soon as he could and it all came out in a flurry of words before Lance grabbed him and made him hush.

Not far off, people were shouting.

“Come out, you snake!”

Lance assumed correctly that that snake was his brother.

They sat as still as they could. Footsteps came closer. When the footsteps were loudest it struck them both just how poor a hiding spot they’d chosen. No escape route. Cornered like a square room.

Breaths held, suddenly Lance’s device beeped. His TigerTooth link was being hacked. Fumbling desperately and as quietly as possible he severed the connection. Trevor held the gun ready. The footsteps came closer.

“Nothing but rats and stink down here, Zike! Let’s go back.”

The feet and its unknown owner walked away.

A minute of silence and the two brothers dared to breathe out.

“That was anticlimactic.”

“I gotta go right now. I can’t hear if Hannah wakes up anymore.”

“What was it?”

“Someone stumbled on my TigerTooth link. Had my outdated old device set up as mic.”

“They get into your device they’ll rob you blind.”

“Not much to rob, I’m afraid.”

The admittance of being poorer off than his brother struck him as the words slipped out. A stinging defeat that Trevor could clearly see in Lance’s downcast eyes. Trevor stood and helped Lance up. Bruised skin and stiff muscles. The two brothers wandered out of the dark nook.

“Hey, would it be alright if I crashed at your place for a day or two?”

No matter how much Lance wanted to object, he said yes. Apparently there’s a link between twin brothers, he thought. But he was pretty sure this came down to his gullible kindness.

After several sorry attempts at brotherly chatter from Trevor’s side, they were back at Lance’s scraper. He slotted the dronebike into the garage reel and led Trevor to the entrance.

“Place hasn’t changed much.” Trevor noted. It having been over six months since last he dropped by. Also back then to lay low for a few days.

Before Lance reached his door, Trevor stopped him.

“Hey, I want to pay up for this wreckshit I caused, okay. And you can’t say no.”

“I don’t need the credits.”

“You do. You got a kid.”

Lance didn’t want to admit he needed them.

“And that dog, which is a walking malfunction. Let me fix him up, if you still want the furball around.”

Lance shrugged a weak yeah, okay I’ll accept your money.

“Spiffy.”

“Huh?”

“Spiffy is my dog’s name. Spiffy and Hannah.”

Lance unlocked the door as his mind flooded with all the good memories of Spiffy and of Hannah.

Then, the vague murmuring he’d felt earlier came like a freak tsunami.

His place was a mess. Clutter on the floor and the makeshift crib had been toppled. In front of it sat Spiffy, his fur ripped on his face, sparks twinkled in his exposed neck, but the thing that sent a terrible shiver down Lance’s spine was the amount of blood. On the floor, sprayed on the makeshift crib and wall, and all over Spiffy’s face. As if someone had lowered his head in a bucket of the red stuff.

“Hannah!?”

She wasn’t in the ruined crib. Lance’s mind raced on in desperation but no logical conclusion presented itself. Only black rage. Spiffy, Lance’s little buddy, had eaten his dear little baby.

Spiffy sat waiting with his tail wagging. The curious tilted head. Eyes asking for a treat as Lance grabbed the first thing that could be used as a blunt instrument and went at his terrier. The dog’s friendly and animalistic eyes asked a hundred confusing questions as the guitar came crashing down.

Lance didn’t stop beating Spiffy until the yelps stopped, his limbs gave out and, flat on the floor, his core kernel broke. The electric sigh calmed Lance only to stir up the heaviest of emotions. Grief.

He knelt down by his ruined Spiffy, unable to hold the tears back. His eyes flailing around the room, looking for… anything but this.

Trevor had been shocked and frozen in the doorway during the ordeal.

“What the fuck…?”

“Hannah…”

In a rush of sudden responsibility Trevor came to Lance and held him. He offered his brother the generic comforting words but soon felt they carried no meaning and just held Lance in silence. The hug and silence spoke louder than any words ever uttered by Trevor. But Lance was beyond consolation. Weak hulking breaths filled everything.

A rustle suddenly startled them both. From under the makeshift crib. Then came the most welcoming sound. A cry. A baby’s cry.

Lance scurried over and lifted the sheets that were pulled down from the crib. There was Hannah. Unharmed and, at least in her mind, in dire need of her bottle and formula.

His daughter was alive and as Lance pulled her close and held her, he knew he was the luckiest man alive. He knew happiness, and he knew he would never be jealous of Trevor ever again.

Trevor was wiping and blinking away tears when he saw it.

“Uh, Lance…”

He was looking at something behind the door. Draped in shadow there between the door and Lance’s bed, was something they had missed when they first opened the door. Someone.

A bloody and mangled corpse.

“A Snatcher…” Trevor knew all the terms of all the scums of the sector.

It dawned on Lance. The lump in his throat returned to mix with the euphoric feeling of love.

Spiffy had saved Hannah. When Spiffy first noticed someone was picking the lock on the door, his algorithms had made him pull Hannah under the table and drape her with sheets. To secure her before whatever threat emerged from the doorway. The fight with the Snatcher had been brutal, but the man had not anticipated such fierce code in an outdated pet model.

A code that over the time spent with Lance, and with little Hannah, had created a neuronal pattern inside Spiffy’s kernel that resembled love.

The Fierce Code is one of the stories in the “slice of cyberpunk life” short story collection METROPO, coming in 2017.

[mitchelbobby]

How to Speed Up Your WordPress Site to Boost Your SEO and Delight Your Users

WordPress is a great platform and it has come a long way from the days when it was suited only for a personal blog. Now fully functional, beautiful websites can be created using WordPress as a CMS. One weakness that it suffers from, however, is it can be quite slow. Without taking the right precautions, you could end up with a sluggish site.

That’s not only a hassle for repeat visitors and may cause you to lose new subscribers or customers. But that is not the only problem. Increasingly slow sites are being penalized in the SERPs by Google and other search engines as well.

But WordPress’ propensity towards sluggishness can be fairly easily overcome. In this post we are going to look at some of the best ways to do just that.

Why WordPress Site Speed Matters

When a person lands on your site for the first time, you only have a few seconds to capture their attention to convince them to hang around.

Get ready to lose sleep at night: according to a report by the Microsoft Bing search team, a 2-second longer delay in page responsiveness reduced user satisfaction by 3.8%, increased lost revenue per user by 4.3%, and a reduced clicks by 4.3%.

If your site takes too long to load, most people are gone, lost before you even had a chance.

Not only that, but Google now includes site speed in it’s ranking algorithm. That means that your site’s speed effects SEO, so if your site is slow, you’re now losing visitors from impatience and have reduced rankings in search engine result pages. Yikes.

So what can be done to prevent all of this horror? Let’s take a look:

Get a Good Host

For a small business just starting out it’s very common for the owners to select a basic GoDaddy (or similar) hosting plan that offers shared hosting. When starting out, a shared host might seem like a bargain (“Unlimited page views!”). It comes at another cost: incredibly slow site speed and frequent down time during high traffic periods.

The problem is, if you do that be prepared for trouble. Downtime, sluggishness, errors. You are sharing hosting with hundreds of others, so the fact that this happens often should come as no surprise. The stress of your site going down is never something anyone needs, so invest in proper hosting.

Start With a Good Theme

WordPress does come with a default theme – one that is usually updated every year – and it is usually lightweight and quite speedy. That’s because they keep the “guts” simple; compare that to bloated frameworks which have tons of features that you will never use, slowing your site to a crawl.

However, it’s also rather limited and you do have to be very familiar with customizing WordPress themes in order to create a decent site. It’s for this reason most people look at other theme options. And there are certainly a lot of them out there to choose from.

The key to avoiding bloat is to choose a theme that meets your needs as closely as possible and then only make use of plugins that you actually need.

You should also invest in a premium theme from a trusted source – Themeforest is a good one – rather than a free option. Not only are free options limited, and often buggy, they also almost always contain links the developers that will sap at your SEO ‘juice’.

Get a Good Caching Plugin

Many WordPress plugins are quite useful, but some of the best fall under the caching category, as they drastically improve page load time, and best of all, all of them on WordPress.org are free and easy to use.

Our favorite, at Pearl Lemon is W3 Total Cache, it has all of the features you need and is extremely easy to install and use. Simply install and activate, and sit back and watch your page load faster as lots of different elements are cached.

Use a Content Delivery Network

If your site is used for online marketing in any way, which we’re sure most people reading this are doing in some way, a CDN – content delivery network – is another way to seriously boost your WordPress site speed and overall performance.

Essentially, a CDN takes all your static files on your site (CSS, Javascript and images etc) and lets visitors download them as fast as possible by serving the files on servers as close to them as possible.

A good option to try the is Max CDN Content Delivery Network, as we’ve found that they have the most reasonable prices and their dashboard is very simple to use.

Auto Optimize Your Images

Big image files KILL WordPress speed, so it a MUST that every single image needs to be optimized. There is a great optimizer, built by Yahoo! called Smush.it that will drastically reduce the file size of an image, while not reducing quality. Perfect! Except doing this to every image is a real pain, not to mention incredibly time consuming.

Fortunately, there is a plugin called WP-SmushIt which will do this to all of your images automatically, as you are uploading them. It’s free, easy to use and it really will save you both time and effort while also speeding up your WordPress site significantly.

Optimize Your Site Architecture As Much As Possible

This isn’t one thing but a number of things that you can do to ensure that your WordPress site loads quickly and does so for every page.

To get you started, implement all of the following:

Show excerpts instead of full posts Reduce the number of posts on your blog page. Remove inactive plugins and widgets that you don’t need Keep in minimal! Browsers are there for information of some kind, or to buy a product, not 8,000 extra widgets on the homepage Optimize your WordPress database. There are plugins that can take care of most of this for you, although you may need professional help if the data bases are large.

Disable Hotlinking and Content Leeching

Hotlinking is a form of bandwidth “theft.” It occurs when other sites direct link to the images on your site from their content, creating a server load that is increasingly high.

To prevent this, but not block the backlinks you need, there is code that can be inserted to prevent this (which can be found at Github or you could simply ask a member of the Pearl Lemon team) and it really is a good idea to do so, as this way you can cut your load time significantly for your regular users.

Adjust Gravatar Images

You’ll notice on this site that the default Gravatar image is set to… well, nothing.

This is not an aesthetic choice, we did it because it improves page loads by simply having nothing where there would normally be a goofy looking Gravatar logo or some other nonsense. Some blogs go as far to disable them throughout the site, and for everyone.

You can do either, just know that it will at least benefit your site speed if you set the default image (found in “Discussion”, under the settings tab in the WordPress dashboard) to a blank space rather than a default image.

Add LazyLoad to Your Images

LazyLoad is the process of having only only the images above the fold load (i.e. only the images visible in the visitor’s browser window), then, when reader scrolls down, the other images begin to load, just before they come into view.

This will not only speed your page loads, it can also save bandwidth by loading less data for users who don’t scroll all the way down on your pages.

Turn off Pingbacks and Trackbacks

By default, WordPress interacts with other sites that are equipped with pingbacks and trackbacks.

Every time another site mentions a post on your site, it notifies your site, which in turn updates data on the post. Turning this off will not destroy the backlinks to your site, just the setting that generates a lot of work for your site.

Replace PHP with Static HTML, When Necessary

This one is a little bit more advanced, and most people will need some help here, but it can drastically cut down your load time for the page.

Use CloudFlare

This is similar to the section above on using CDN’s, and by making use of CloudFlare, along with the W3 Total Cache plugin discussed above, as they integrate seamlessly with each other can be one of the best ways of all to increase both the speed and security of your site. The security factor is an added bonus as this too is another area that Google are paying an increasing amount of attention to when ranking sites in the SERPs.

These are just some of the ways you can speed up your WordPress site. There are more, and believe us when we say that even if a tweak will only speed up your site by another couple of milliseconds, in SEO terms it’s worth it. Google – and the other search engines – are never going to penalise a site for being too fast.

The post How to Speed Up Your WordPress Site to Boost Your SEO and Delight Your Users appeared first on Pearl Lemon.

source https://pearllemon.com/how-to-speed-up-your-wordpress-site-to-boost-your-seo-and-delight-your-users/ source https://pearllemon.tumblr.com/post/183231876539

[scottsmithuk]

How to Speed Up Your WordPress Site to Boost Your SEO and Delight Your Users

WordPress is a great platform and it has come a long way from the days when it was suited only for a personal blog. Now fully functional, beautiful websites can be created using WordPress as a CMS. One weakness that it suffers from, however, is it can be quite slow. Without taking the right precautions, you could end up with a sluggish site.

That’s not only a hassle for repeat visitors and may cause you to lose new subscribers or customers. But that is not the only problem. Increasingly slow sites are being penalized in the SERPs by Google and other search engines as well.

But WordPress’ propensity towards sluggishness can be fairly easily overcome. In this post we are going to look at some of the best ways to do just that.

Why WordPress Site Speed Matters

When a person lands on your site for the first time, you only have a few seconds to capture their attention to convince them to hang around.

Get ready to lose sleep at night: according to a report by the Microsoft Bing search team, a 2-second longer delay in page responsiveness reduced user satisfaction by 3.8%, increased lost revenue per user by 4.3%, and a reduced clicks by 4.3%.

If your site takes too long to load, most people are gone, lost before you even had a chance.

Not only that, but Google now includes site speed in it’s ranking algorithm. That means that your site’s speed effects SEO, so if your site is slow, you’re now losing visitors from impatience and have reduced rankings in search engine result pages. Yikes.

So what can be done to prevent all of this horror? Let’s take a look:

Get a Good Host

For a small business just starting out it’s very common for the owners to select a basic GoDaddy (or similar) hosting plan that offers shared hosting. When starting out, a shared host might seem like a bargain (“Unlimited page views!”). It comes at another cost: incredibly slow site speed and frequent down time during high traffic periods.

The problem is, if you do that be prepared for trouble. Downtime, sluggishness, errors. You are sharing hosting with hundreds of others, so the fact that this happens often should come as no surprise. The stress of your site going down is never something anyone needs, so invest in proper hosting.

Start With a Good Theme

WordPress does come with a default theme – one that is usually updated every year – and it is usually lightweight and quite speedy. That’s because they keep the “guts” simple; compare that to bloated frameworks which have tons of features that you will never use, slowing your site to a crawl.

However, it’s also rather limited and you do have to be very familiar with customizing WordPress themes in order to create a decent site. It’s for this reason most people look at other theme options. And there are certainly a lot of them out there to choose from.

The key to avoiding bloat is to choose a theme that meets your needs as closely as possible and then only make use of plugins that you actually need.

You should also invest in a premium theme from a trusted source – Themeforest is a good one – rather than a free option. Not only are free options limited, and often buggy, they also almost always contain links the developers that will sap at your SEO ‘juice’.

Get a Good Caching Plugin

Many WordPress plugins are quite useful, but some of the best fall under the caching category, as they drastically improve page load time, and best of all, all of them on WordPress.org are free and easy to use.

Our favorite, at Pearl Lemon is W3 Total Cache, it has all of the features you need and is extremely easy to install and use. Simply install and activate, and sit back and watch your page load faster as lots of different elements are cached.

Use a Content Delivery Network

If your site is used for online marketing in any way, which we’re sure most people reading this are doing in some way, a CDN – content delivery network – is another way to seriously boost your WordPress site speed and overall performance.

Essentially, a CDN takes all your static files on your site (CSS, Javascript and images etc) and lets visitors download them as fast as possible by serving the files on servers as close to them as possible.

A good option to try the is Max CDN Content Delivery Network, as we’ve found that they have the most reasonable prices and their dashboard is very simple to use.

Auto Optimize Your Images

Big image files KILL WordPress speed, so it a MUST that every single image needs to be optimized. There is a great optimizer, built by Yahoo! called Smush.it that will drastically reduce the file size of an image, while not reducing quality. Perfect! Except doing this to every image is a real pain, not to mention incredibly time consuming.

Fortunately, there is a plugin called WP-SmushIt which will do this to all of your images automatically, as you are uploading them. It’s free, easy to use and it really will save you both time and effort while also speeding up your WordPress site significantly.

Optimize Your Site Architecture As Much As Possible

This isn’t one thing but a number of things that you can do to ensure that your WordPress site loads quickly and does so for every page.

To get you started, implement all of the following:

Show excerpts instead of full posts Reduce the number of posts on your blog page. Remove inactive plugins and widgets that you don’t need Keep in minimal! Browsers are there for information of some kind, or to buy a product, not 8,000 extra widgets on the homepage Optimize your WordPress database. There are plugins that can take care of most of this for you, although you may need professional help if the data bases are large.

Disable Hotlinking and Content Leeching

Hotlinking is a form of bandwidth “theft.” It occurs when other sites direct link to the images on your site from their content, creating a server load that is increasingly high.

To prevent this, but not block the backlinks you need, there is code that can be inserted to prevent this (which can be found at Github or you could simply ask a member of the Pearl Lemon team) and it really is a good idea to do so, as this way you can cut your load time significantly for your regular users.

Adjust Gravatar Images

You’ll notice on this site that the default Gravatar image is set to… well, nothing.

This is not an aesthetic choice, we did it because it improves page loads by simply having nothing where there would normally be a goofy looking Gravatar logo or some other nonsense. Some blogs go as far to disable them throughout the site, and for everyone.

You can do either, just know that it will at least benefit your site speed if you set the default image (found in “Discussion”, under the settings tab in the WordPress dashboard) to a blank space rather than a default image.

Add LazyLoad to Your Images

LazyLoad is the process of having only only the images above the fold load (i.e. only the images visible in the visitor’s browser window), then, when reader scrolls down, the other images begin to load, just before they come into view.

This will not only speed your page loads, it can also save bandwidth by loading less data for users who don’t scroll all the way down on your pages.

Turn off Pingbacks and Trackbacks

By default, WordPress interacts with other sites that are equipped with pingbacks and trackbacks.

Every time another site mentions a post on your site, it notifies your site, which in turn updates data on the post. Turning this off will not destroy the backlinks to your site, just the setting that generates a lot of work for your site.

Replace PHP with Static HTML, When Necessary

This one is a little bit more advanced, and most people will need some help here, but it can drastically cut down your load time for the page.

Use CloudFlare

This is similar to the section above on using CDN’s, and by making use of CloudFlare, along with the W3 Total Cache plugin discussed above, as they integrate seamlessly with each other can be one of the best ways of all to increase both the speed and security of your site. The security factor is an added bonus as this too is another area that Google are paying an increasing amount of attention to when ranking sites in the SERPs.

These are just some of the ways you can speed up your WordPress site. There are more, and believe us when we say that even if a tweak will only speed up your site by another couple of milliseconds, in SEO terms it’s worth it. Google – and the other search engines – are never going to penalise a site for being too fast.

The post How to Speed Up Your WordPress Site to Boost Your SEO and Delight Your Users appeared first on Pearl Lemon.

source https://pearllemon.com/how-to-speed-up-your-wordpress-site-to-boost-your-seo-and-delight-your-users/ source https://pearllemon.blogspot.com/2019/03/how-to-speed-up-your-wordpress-site-to.html

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 29th April 2018

30/4, Cactus Drive, charts are live! Charts are live!

Top 10

“One Kiss” by Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa is somehow still holding steady at #1, without a video. I mean, sure, it has a lyric video, but I refuse to believe this is really succeeding this much. I haven’t heard this song more than once or twice on the radio. I don’t think this’ll last.

We have our first massive top 10 debut, with “No Tears Left to Cry” by Ariana Grande. I’ll say for now that I’m happy this has a shot at the top, but I’ll elaborate later on.

“Nice for What” by Drake appears to have stumbled a spot from last week, now at number-three, and, sadly, I don’t really think this can rebound. There’s something about this song that really isn’t very “hit song” to me.

Nono Nono by No Nono featuring No No fortunately has backed down a space to number-four.

And so as “Paradise” by George Ezra, now down to number-five. Who really cares about that song though?

“Lullaby” by Sigala featuring Paloma Faith somehow moves up a space to number-six, off of... nothing, really. I suppose people gravitate to mediocrity.

Am I happy that “Answerphone” by Banx & Ranx and Ella Eyre featuring Yxng Bane has jumped a whopping 11 spaces to number-seven? No. No, I’m not. Am I mad? Nah, not really. Do I care? See above.

Our second massive debut here is “2002” by Anne-Marie, breaching the top 40 at number-eight. Sadly, this is probably one of the worst songs on her album, Speak Your Mind, but we’ll see how this goes with the album boost next week.

“The Middle” by Zedd and Grey featuring Maren Morris continues to make moves, three positions up to number-nine this week.

We also have the one-spot dip for “Psycho” by Post Malone featuring Ty Dolla $ign to number-ten, which will quickly rebound next week because of the album Beerbongs & Bentleys finally being released.

Climbers

Two of last week’s debuts, “German” by EO and “Like I Do” by David Guetta, Martin Garrix and Brooks, have scaled up six and eight spots to #24 and #32 respectively. One’s trash, one’s treasure, but that’s the only notable thing about the climbers here. There’s only two notable jumps outside of the top 10, so let’s get straight to the falls.

Fallers

There was a damn massacre here with so many undeserving songs being destroyed this week. But I suppose for every “These Days” by Rudimental featuring Jess Glynne, Macklemore and Dan Caplen falling 10 spaces to #15, we have a “Let Me” by ZAYN dropping 17 spaces to #37 after the debut. Other falls include “God’s Plan” by Drake down six to #23, “Friends” by Marshmello and Anne-Marie and “Feel it Still” by Portugal. The Man both down 19 to #25 and #27 respectively (yikes!), as well as “Look Alive” by BlocBoy JB featuring Drake (bad week, huh?) down eight to #28, “Be Careful” by Cardi B down 11 to #35, “IDGAF” by Dua Lipa down 10 to #38 and “SAD!” by XXXSPECIALLYTERRIBLEPERSON down 10 to #39, hopefully dropping out next week. The song’s tolerable, but less X on the charts, the better, and I think everyone can agree with that.

Dropouts

As I said, absolute massacre: “What I Wanna” by MoStack from #34, “Sanctify” by Years & Years from #35, “All the Stars” by Kendrick Lamar and SZA from #39 and “Breathe” by Jax Jones featuring Ina Wroldsen from #27.

Nicki Minaj had a particularly bad week: “Chun-Li” from #26 and “Barbie Tingz” from #31.

The Greatest Showman as well, with “A Million Dreams” and “Never Enough” from #33 and #36.

Also, we have a very big milestone here for the UK charts – for the first time in ever, we have NO ED SHEERAN IN THE TOP 40! “Perfect” dropped out from #38, meaning Ginger Satan is no way near the charts... for this week only, I imagine, since the music video for “Happier” just dropped, to my dismay. Let’s enjoy it while we can, I suppose. There’s something else we’ll have to enjoy for this one week, but we’ll get to that in a bit... well, actually, right now.

Returning Entries

“I See You Shining” by Nines returned at #40. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s discuss the tragic death of pioneering and innovative DJ and talented EDM producer Avicii, who committed suicide at the very young age of 28. My heart goes out to his family, friends and fans, but I’ve grieved on Twitter, so right now, we just need to talk about the songs that returned this week, excluding “Hey Brother” because it barely missed the top 40.

#36 – “Levels” and #26 – “Wake Me Up!” (featuring Aloe Blacc) by Avicii

Out of these, “Levels” is definitely my favourite for its beautifully bright synth tones accompanied by neat handclaps and the burst of energy you come to expect from good EDM drops. It’s a simply fun, bouncy dance track that has been in rotation ever since it became big, known for its almost eerie vocal sample of Etta Jones that was later wasted by Flo Rida in his own hit song. No matter how somewhat creepy the isolated vocal sample can feel, the lyrics about getting a good feeling really put you in the mood for a head-bopping party jam. Then all the random synth tones appear and it gets somewhat all-over-the-place, and it’s just fantastic. Despite my preference, I still have to give props to “Wake Me Up!” here, with its vocals from soul singer Aloe Blacc and guitar from Mike Einziger of Incubus of all people, for defining Avicii’s signature folktronica sound, with that quickly-drowned out pumping guitar melody and Blacc’s great crooning over what seems like a simple folk ballad until the handclaps come in and you realise that this isn’t your typical folk song. No, this is an Avicii song, with the iconic synth line in the drop and a pulsing beat that shows how even though Avicii’s music was new, interesting, unique and different, he could still drop the bass as well as a bigger EDM producer like Calvin Harris, David Guetta or Tiesto. Both songs are some of the best modern electronica I’ve heard, and I’m pleased that Avicii’s legacy will live on via his catalogue of greatness. Rest in peace, Tim Bergling.

NEW ARRIVALS

#34 – “Familiar” – Liam Payne featuring J Balvin

As much as I can’t really be bothered with the 1D boys anymore, I’m glad this charted because otherwise, despite it being a busy week, this would have been pretty boring for me. I’ve heard all of these songs before, and I don’t really care for many of them either, so I apologise if my reviews seem rushed. I’ll admit to being a broken record, especially when half of these debuts are from J. Cole, or kiLL Edward or whatever he’s going by these days. Anyway, that doesn’t matter – what do I think of Liam’s follow-up single?

I think it’s hilariously bad. There’s this autotuned mumbling from J Balvin trading vocals with Liam Payne with his Godawfully weak falsetto over this non-descript Latin pop beat. There’s one absolutely awful moment here – J Balvin, drowned in autotune, says “brain” in harmony with Liam’s less-effected voice, so it creates an unlistenable millisecond. Then J Balvin’s rap verse, because of course, where he once again mentions “Mi Gente”, his last hit. A bit desperate there, JB? This is unbearable if you want to take it seriously, but if you don’t, this is hilariously incompetent. I’d recommend this if you want a good laugh.

#30 – “Photograph” – J. Cole

J Cole went platinum with no features, and he’ll probably do it again looking at his album’s numbers... and look, the dude’s a talented MC, he’s great at the mic, and brings some great delivery and flow to the table, but most of the time, his music, especially the production, is really boring. Like, REALLY boring. I gave his most recent album a 3/10 simply because it made me not want to hear J Cole or his pitch-shifted alter-ego speak another damn word again. Is this any different?

Nope! Probably even worse, honestly, as we start with a skittering flat trap beat under J Cole’s “singing” before he starts admittedly decently rapping, despite repeating a lot of his lines – seriously, his first verse is four bars then two shorter verses that are repeated for no reason – and going somewhat off-topic (if there ever was a topic), with a delivery that seems way too infused for such a downbeat instrumental. Even Cole’s second verse is full of rhyming words with themselves and line repetition, before he repeats the second part of his first verse... Jesus, these are the worst bars I’ve heard from this guy probably ever. For someone who is big for being lyrical, this is lazy, uninteresting and most importantly, trash! Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph” is so much better, and yes, I’m endorsing Ed again and I hate myself for it.

#28 – “ATM” – J. Cole

If Cole can copy-paste verses (and songs for that matter...), does that mean I can copy-paste reviews?

After a bunch of spoken vocals from the woman who appears a lot on this album, we have what is assumingly a sample nasally singing for half a minute, until we get to J. Cole once again repeating himself as if he were a broken Tickle-Me-Elmo, with that monotonous “count it up, count it up, count it up, count it” hook over rattling hi-hats and other trap-rap clichés, and subtly autotuned verses, until there’s a complete silence... and the beat doesn’t even change. That’s not how a beat switch either works or is supposed to impress, Cole. Typically, there’s a transition and you know, an actual production alteration. Come on, learn from Kendrick and get James Blake on the phone. I think you need him. Oh, yeah, after this beat “switch”, he also discusses abortion right before saying his Rolex is scorching, because consistency in the verse’s topics don’t exist, apparently. Once again, I get the appeal, but I don’t want to bore myself anymore. Thankfully, J. Cole debuted another track which I actually quite like.

#17 – “KOD” – J. Cole

This is the title track from his latest album, which is fitting because it encompasses what J. Cole does throughout the album – repeat himself over trap beats. However, this time, Cole repeats himself over trap beats incredibly well, with straightforward spitting and a really catchy hook that ends up just being a slightly flawed trap banger. The second verse repeating itself a lot was a bit unnecessary, and the brief racist slur was... questionable, but he definitely had good intentions there, I think. No matter what he’s doing, Cole succeeded once in this album to make a song that bumps without being boring or even having deeper subject matter. It’s just a great, fun song – the only one we’re getting from Cole this week. Oh, yeah, and the female vocals come back on the outro with kiLL Edward for some kind of weird interlude thing on the album. I’m not complaining, just questioning.

#8 – “2002” – Anne-Marie

Boring pop singer with Caribbean inflections shoehorns references from some of the 1990s’ and 2000s’ biggest pop songs (none of which came out in 2002, by the way) to write a somewhat cringeworthy chorus, with nothing else of note in the verses or instrumental. Do I really need to say anything else? I mean, there’s awkward guitar loops, trap hi-hats, ugly synth tones and fake handclaps as producer Steve Mac’s pathetic excuse for a beat, I suppose... but yeah, this is nothing more than a short interlude on a mediocre album, that probably should not have been released as a single. Like the album, the only real comment I have on this is that it exists, and my life would not change if it didn’t.

#2 – “No Tears Left to Cry” – Ariana Grande

The lyrics here are pretty vague, and I’m not really a fan of the initial effects on her voice, but yeah, this picks up with a funky synth melody and a fast seemingly ‘90s dance-influenced drum pattern, while Grande doesn’t bother enunciating yet somehow still performs fantastically, even on the hook which has much less variation from the verses for my taste, yet is still decent, and the choruses after the first definitely try to improve that with some extra synth noise, but for now, I think I’ll continue to like this for pretty much no reason other than how great the instrumental is on the verse and how much I love Grande’s vocal performance here. I’m indifferent otherwise, and I have no real comment on this. It’s still good, though, I’m not sure entirely what to think of it or its longevity. Sorry for this review being a bit scattered but I’m kind of conflicted here. In fact, I’m sort of confused. Let’s just say that this is decent and move on before I get an aneurysm.

Conclusion

I really want to give Avicii Best of the Week and Honourable Mention, but that’s not how this show works so I guess it goes to J. Cole for “KOD”, with Honourable Mention going to Ariana Grande’s “No Tears Left to Cry”. The Dishonourable Mention is probably “Familiar” by Liam Payne and J Balvin, which is entertaining in its lack of quality enough for me to rank it above the Worst of the Week, “Photograph” by J. Cole. What do I predict? Hopefully Janelle Monáe, probably Post Malone. Hopefully Green Day fans can get “American Idiot” to return in time for Trump’s UK visit, probably they’ll fail miserably. We’ll see next week. Goodbye!

[allthatwehear]

just go?

March 17th-19th, 2017

Oh jeez. This is going to be one hell of a post. And I guess I should probably apologize for the profanities before I write this—just know, that this Sarah, present, 2017, March whatever Sarah, has of late, really not minded running her mouth, with any of her friends. It’s typically a lot worse when in the company of oh, say, Nora Hixson and Austin Gray—more specifically, in the hot town of Houston, Texas. BUT! I am trying my best to refrain! I’ve let the eff word, couple of “shit’s” pass my lips when in the household/company of children under the ages of 13, (Luke Hixson), and certain parental whose opinions I value very much, (Mr. and Mrs. Whittle,) so, in short, I’m trying very hard to do better. But, what I mean is, I just don’t care. Say whatever the fuck you want. It’s not a big deal. Just fucking do it. Which leads me to a rash decision that let a certain bestfriend and I to do just that—just fucking do it, why not. You wanted excitement in life. You’ve never been to a technical “party”. What could be the harm? Aha! Okay, god, where do I even start?! I feel like I’ve already explained this, exasperated much of the details, which is often why I don’t like writing stuff down. I already said it once, enough, why spend all the time to repeat it and write it. Well, because, it was sort of a beautiful thing in a way!

This is the first time you got drunk! The first time, you were drunk! You sat in that house with some of the people you’ve heard Susy mention, probably dozens of times, and you saw those two British model boys with your own two eyes, and shook each of their hands. You saw the way Isaac’s eyes stared into your own, and leaned in over his seat because maybe he couldn’t actually hear you because the music was so loud, or maybe more of because he wanted to be closer to you. These are things that you should remember! I can’t believe this happened. It felt like a foggy little dream, and yet, it’s not even that big of a deal. Right? It felt like it, the day after, like suddenly we were these party girls, and we were waiting to reap the consequences of smeared make-up and embarrassed glancing, and possible headaches—I mean, what even are hangovers? What do they do to you?! There were shining green and red lights, that came from only one device of its own, but it sprayed the lights all the way up to the ceiling. Susy, Bragan (Chloe’s friend), and I had the misfortune to have that little light-device shine in our eyes with where we sat, but Evan, (Susy’s suuuper tall cousin, a quiet dude, but very kind, and the one Bragan liked,) shielded it for us kindly. Joe and Evan didn’t drink. I wasn’t even planning on it.

Isaac asked me if I wanted a beer, after our very awkward hellos in a circle blocking the dark hallway where the bathroom was—trading names and shaking hands, and me shaking Nick Lubin’s (british) older brother’s hand for too long, I think? And leaning in closer than anyone else had to say my name? Fuck I just felt fucking god awkward, like he had seemed to have trouble getting everyone’s name over the music, so I thought I was being helpful, but I realized how probably weird that came off (did he really think I was weird?) like for fuck’s sake I just met him, but I legitimately wasn’t trying to do anything. Fuck it. Fuck first impressions. They’re such bullshit fucking madshit god. Let’s just say, he didn’t talk to me the rest of that night. Nor look me in the face. I think I kind of just disappeared like nothing in that guy’s mind later. I have no fucking clue. BUT. Someone’s mind who I did not disappear out of! Was Isaac Snyder’s! Like what the actual fucking fuck? What even happened!!!!!!! First, it was one beer, and I was trying my absolute fucking damndest to drink that thing, and at least get a little buzzed. The taste wasn’t bad at first, but it quickly got worse. With very sip it was like sizzling, I don’t even know, lightly flavored seltzer water? Bubbly, I don’t even know?

First, it was one shot. A little bit of time had passed, and Susy and I were just trying to look calm, and comfortable. But it was hardly so. Oh no, in the internal mind of a self-conscious teenager, we were flipping out. Thinking of every aspect. How does my face look at this angle? Do I look relaxed enough? Body language? Let me just keep engaging Susy in stupid-ass conversation, screw the topic, just to look like I’m talkative or friendly or whatever the shit. Everyone else was talking. What were we supposed to do? He brought me a shot. Said we should do one, and I was very, very hesitant. I basically said no, but once I realized that Susy and Bragan might’ve wanted to do one afterwards too, I felt better. Their eyes kind of lit up honestly. Like Susy’s—hey, maybe this means we get to drink for the first time? Well boy was she right. I took it. I thought it would be horrible. I was remembering the one we were trying to do with Susy and Sawyer the other week, but that was disgusting. Straight vodka. Scarred me for life. This would be just the same. Instead, it went down so easily. So confidently; I didn’t gulp or slurp, nothing spilled, drizzling on my chin. I just tilted up and back, and reveled in that hot feeling down my neck and in my chest. And it was some damn good whiskey. I had no fucking clue what kind of alcohol that was, but clearly, it was damn good, because I didn’t choke. It was fantastic.

Then Bragan and Susy took theirs. Susy hated it, shook her head a few times. Honestly, I don’t fucking remember how we kept on going after that. I don’t remember how I suddenly had a second. I think within like a moment or two after I had my first, Isaac was pouring me my second. I think I took that one pretty fast, I honestly don’t remember. I think Susy probably took one with me?! Then the third one we had… It was definitely vodka. Or it was another strong something, but it was so, so very gross. Another was like a cherrywine color, like grape juice. I remember asking over and over “what is this? What is this?” because I was like, what? What kind of strong liquor is colored/flavored? They don’t do that? Oh no. It was like grape vodka. Something of that sort. REALLY gross. Did not appreciate that one. Susy and I both did that one. Somewhere beside me Isaac was probably doing them too, in-between his stand-up, sit-downs, dance like a fucking dork for a second, watch Spencer Campbell dance for a second, people traded seats beside me, Spencer sat there and we talked for like a few milliseconds, I don’t remember. More kept coming. I was up to like five and feeeeeeling it. I remember looking at Susy, asking if she “felt” it, and she said something like, “oh yeah. I definitely don’t feel right. I think I am drunk.” Throughout the shots we would do like a “stand-up test”, because through like four I was start to doubt I could maybe stand. It was that dizzying. World spinning. I don’t even fucking remember man. Sometimes Susy was leaning over talking to Evan and Bragan, (like after I had come back from the bathroom. I had just breathed in there. Peed really fast, because I remember now being paranoid that someone would come in really fast and just see me with my pants off and vagina and all peeing, and how that was probably such a normal thing at parties, so maybe I would experience that sensation, and maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal because that’s normal,) and I’d look at Isaac and I’d ask him something, because he was to my right, and Susy wasn’t talking to me. For some reason I always had to be talking. Sort of.

I wondered all night if we were going to kiss that night. I really did. He touched me shoulder a few times, whether it was while he was asking me a question or something. He would brush past me, I don’t really know. But he was very intent with me. And within the first moment, totally sober, he offered me the beer and shot, Bragan whispered to Susy and I knew there was something fishy. He’s liked me before?! Isaac?!?!?!?!? Well. He did bring me that bouquet of flowers, backpacking, prayer leap-frog, all that time ago. I knew he was probably sweet on me then. But I just broke up with his best friend?!?!!??!?!?!?!? He hated me, he probably hated me a lot, he and Philip, right????? Like what the actual /fuck/????? Over and over again, “I’m really glad you came tonight Sarah.” I kept thinking about all those dark rooms in the hall, and what it would be like if I had went to the bathroom at just the right time, or “admired some of the pictures on the wall”, while Isaac just so happened to be perfectly meandering around there, too. Maybe it would be like that thing where we slink into that room, or we’re kind of standing there, standing into each other’s eyes, and everyone else is distracted enough that I pull him into just the dark doorway, and we could kiss there so it wasn’t so obvious. How ridiculous? Why the fuck was I thinking these things? And why the fuck have I been missing Philip like a fucking prick these past few days, hours, legit minutes???? Like a fucking prick! (I think it’s dick, haha.)

All I know, is being drunk, that, kind of drunk, was very fun. I enjoyed it quite a bit, and there’s like this new stupid side to Sarah and it’s going to be hard to quiet her. I know what it’s like. I know the kickback vibe. And I want to be a part of it. I find it so, relaxing and easing, and so honest, but so ridiculous, so fucking ridiculous it’s stupid. It’s laughable. But enjoyable. Drunk Sarah and Susy kept saying over and over how much we didn’t want to leave, (once Evan said that Joe had announced that we should leave soon,) in our very chill, drunk way. It wasn’t like whining. We were just like, “nah man, we feel good. This is good. We’re feeling good and we like this. Why did we have to go,” kind of thing. Fucking. If Susy wasn’t such a fucking fast pee-er, which I fucking know she does on purpose, she didn’t want to leave anything, she didn’t want to leave any situation and she didn’t want to leave me, but most of all she knew Isaac was acting weird and that was like obviously annoying her or something, so she like rush-peed when we were all home and Isaac was with me in the dark. I had stumbled out to “wait in line” to pee with Susy, but Isaac appeared, and I knew he would. I was getting/drinking water, but he appeared. And it was fucking dark, and all I could see was his crazy hair everywhere, but he was shirtless (when is he not) and getting closer to me, we were talking, and I think I was like dying inside. Some fucking knowledgeable part of me still fucked up brain calculated that Susy’s peeing would not go on slow enough for us to share a possible kiss, (which, in this instance, I wanted to do.) It was a really fucking romantic setting. I was standing by the kitchen window with the moonlight, and that’s all how I could see him. And he was shirtless, and huge, and his voice was low, and croaky. And I knew he was coming closer, and I knew he wanted to kiss, or something, but I kind of just kept moving, and it felt like fucking two seconds went by and Susy is rushing out of the door and we’re kind of backing up like we did nothing. I didn’t really talk, except for answer his repetitive questions of, “did you have a good time though?” and the “I’m really glad you came tonight, Sarah”.

In conclusion, Isaac Snyder may or may not have a little crush on me, and I just want to be over at Susy’s so I can test and play and watch this little thing unfold. I’m such an unkind bitch, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.I wished I would have kissed him, but have it had been a total secret, and no one would have known, still, to this day. I wished we could’ve slunk back in that hallway. I wish I had never broken up with Philip. He looked huge when I saw him, the day I got drunk. He ran out, hugged, said my hair looked cool, and Susy and I left to shop. I wish he could text me and say something really sweet, like “hey, I still really treasure you, and we should still stay close.” I wish I could tell him how much I fucked up. And how much that kept me up last night. Isaac kept me up last last night. But Philip was last night. I got a little drunk. Susy and I concluded her: five and a half shot, roughly. Me: six and a half, roughly. Is that lightweight? Heavy weight? I feel like I could do more now. I don’t know. I want to do more now. I don’t know. A nice big party. Maybe that’s what I need. I don’t know man. I don’t know.