all these graphics made me want to do my own ok

Hello graphic makers!! You’re probably aware that there is a huge problem on tumblr with whitewashing. Or maybe you’re not. As a predominantly disney-based blogger, the whitewashing I personally see are from the disney fandom, so I’m going to use screencaps from those movies to show you several quick techniques so you’ll see just how easy it is to have your pretty bright and pastel colour palettes and not whitewash characters of colour.

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Angel in the Darkness (M)

Originally posted by jungkook-gifs

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au 

Word Count: 5,468

A/N: This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (masturbating, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use……(alot of smut comes in later) This is a mature read! You have been warned!

 part 2



Your mother told you that there was a purpose for what everyone does. That there is always a reason for someone’s actions; whether it was bad or good. If it was a good action, the individual has learned the most rewarding path to handle situations; regardless if it was easy or not. If it was a bad action, the person could reflect on it, and with guidance, they will learn the right way toward dealing with obstacles. And to this day, that is how you viewed life. If you handled something well, you would be rewarded in the future, if you handled it poorly, you would need to reflect on why you did such a thing, till you find the right path. With these beliefs, you always wanted to find the ‘purpose’ of an individual’s actions, and help them find the right way. So that’s how you ended up working at a rehab centre; helping mentally to find the root cause of someone’s poor actions, and leading them to a better future.

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Be a d*ck to your freelancer? I'll have your job.

(warning: long story)

Backstory:

This happened about 3 years ago. I was still in college for digital marketing (like advertising and graphic design). Since I had no time to work even a part time job, I would do some freelance graphic design in the little time I had. Mainly in the later hours of the night, I would still answer emails during the day though. It was good money, a couple hundred here and there, but it wasn’t enough. The company that ran the cafeteria in my school went through bankruptcy and I was taken off our 21-meals-a-week plan. I had to resort to putting (very) small ads in the newspaper and started looking for more jobs online rather than posting a listing on Craigslist as I previously had. I got a few good jobs, everything seemed great at this point.

Then the fatal night happened. I received an email at about 10:45 at night. It was mid-week so it was a bit odd for someone to be emailing me this late, especially since I had school the next day and they probably had work. Right off the bat I had a sketchy feeling about this, as the subject was “I need an ad made” and the message was “Ok?”. As per usual, I respond right away asking for more details. He said he had ran a custom shower company and he wants me to Photoshop a picture, add text and then format it for billboard printing.

He sends me the image and it’s a “custom” shower with two shower heads that are on. He wants me to remove one of the heads. I tell him that it will be difficult due to the fact the streams are crossing. He replies with “So? Just f*cking do it.” I finish the ad for him and I’m about to watermark it so I can send him a final copy then request payment. Then I realize that it’s already f*cking watermarked, faintly in the corner by another shower company, and it doesn’t match his. This douchebag motherf*cker stole a picture from another local company.

I tell him that I won’t do the ad because he’s using a copyrighted picture, and that I can replace it and keep the text. He “rages” and claims that he took the photo with his phone earlier that week. At this point I have better things to be doing, so I block his emails, as they were getting to be harassment.

Fast forward two weeks.

I get a call from an unknown number saying that I f*cked up and that he just paid another designer “big bucks” for the same job. These calls continue over the next week and I just start ignoring them.

Here’s where something magical happens. He starts texting me, but it’s with his actual f*cking number. I think he tried to *67 me, but it doesn’t work through texting. This will come back to bite him in the ass when we get to the revenge part.

Here’s where the revenge comes in:

After the semester ends, I decide to drive around 2 hours to visit my parents for the week I have between the semesters. While I’m driving on the freeway I see something familiar. It’s the photo the guy wanted me to make into an ad for him on a billboard. Then I realize that the ad on the billboard is for HIS F*CKING COMPANY, although he clearly didn’t hire another designer. It looks as if he made it in MSPaint. I get off at the next exit so I can get a few pictures and write down the location.

When I get back from my parents’ house, I immediately start up my computer and try to get into contact with the company who owns the photo. I send them the pictures and location along with his emails. They thank me and I happily go to bed.

Fast forward a month.

I get a call on a Saturday morning saying that the company who owns the photo needed me to come in to their offices to discuss a few things. Turns out that they ended up filing a lawsuit over the copyright issue as he still claimed it to be his photo.

The judge told me while I was in court (as a witness) that I would be able to file for harassment and get a restraining order. Normally I wouldn’t care, but the harassment would go on his record.

Because of all the legal fees, his company went under. I later found out that he tried to start up another company of similar sorts but he would have to tell his employees of his harassment charge. That company went under as well because he couldn’t find anyone to work for him.

Get f*cked.

izzycat6  asked:

Do you have recommendations for a Klance slowburn fic? (Doesn't really matter if it's an AU)

Friend f r i e n d it’s been ages since I actually got to sit down and read a fic but I’ve read lots of them in the past so you definitely came to the right person :P (I actually wrote one of my own; it’s called Magic Me Some Love and is about Galra!Keith/Magician!Lance in a medieval fantasy setting, if you’re into that.)

Now. Slow burn klance fics that aren’t on pretty much every fic rec list out there already with a minimum of either 60k words or that are unfinished still:

Ignorance Is Bliss by YouAreInAComaWakeUp

As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew?
Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he’s the less-evil one, too, so that’s always a plus.

>> R E A D  I T  IT’S SO MUCH MORE THAN YOUR AVERAGE GHOST FIC JUST- JUST DO IT JUST ONE CHAPTER D O I T– JS UT FKCIN G D O IOT- -

The Message by Shipstiel

Keith is texted by accident by some idiot one day, and honestly he’s not even sure why he responds. Or why he keeps responding. Yet somehow he finds himself drawn in, and okay, so maybe this fool is mildly entertaining after all. Who would’ve thought.

>>wrong number AU with an extra dash of angst. But if you’ve read any of the other fics this author has written you’ll know that they specialize in fluff and that absolutely shines through in the fic^^

Quest for Altea by fandomlicious

20 years after the legendary sword Voltron was drawn from its stone by Queen Allura, it is stolen and eventually lost in the dangerous Balmeran Forest. To prevent the rogue knight Zarkon, his witch companion Haggar and their army of Galra warriors from claiming the sword and conquering all of Altea, it falls to Lance, with the help of a dark-haired hermit, to embark on the treacherous journey, save his kingdom and reunite his broken family.

>>if you don’t mind OCs that you get to know throughout the fic taking on a more important role, you should totally check out this fic. It’s plot heavy and reads like a published novel :D

Foreign Scenes by bwyn

Lance has been dreaming of travelling since the first time he heard stories from his family as a child. Now, having finally the time and money to do it, he goes on a trip to Europe to see some of the most culturally rich cities on the continent. Except he keeps bumping into the same guy over and over again, in random cities, doing stupid shit, and ultimately dragging Lance into his trouble, too.

>>it’s one of the few fics that I haven’t read personally yet and still won’t hesitate to recommend. lots of my friends have read and praised it, apparently it’s fluffy and fun. it’s absolutely on my to read list :D

Crossroads by manamune

When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it.
What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating.

>>this one. if you haven’t read it yet, go read it. it was my fav voltron fic for a long long time!!!! it’s got it all, plot, romance, character development, realistic amounts of angst- it’s very very good. 

Drive It Like You Mean It by Zizzani

The Castle of Lions is the venue for the city’s most dangerous illegal street races where drivers come to test the cut of their tires. Lance has long defended his title as champion, but when a newcomer shows up and threatens his position things take an interesting turn.

>>not into cars and street racing AUs? neither am i, my friend, and yet this is one of the best voltron fics i’ve read. trust me when i tell you that you want to read everything written by this author.

Sharps and Accidentals by Zizzani (! unfinished!)

Keith is a talented up and coming violin virtuoso. Lance hates him immediately.
Or an AU in which Lance and Keith both attend the same music university. Keith is deaf. Lance is Trying™.

>>if there is one deaf!AU you should read then it’s this one. it’s really amazing all around - i’ve been following it since 2016 and i still always get excited over e-mail updates.

Ghost of the Future / Shadow of the Past by wittyy_name & Zizzani (! unfinished!)

When Lance is thrown through time, his future self from one year ahead is transported to the past in his place.
-
When Lance is thrown through time, he finds himself one year in the future, in place of the Lance that should be here.

>>WHEN I SAW THAT THESE TWO WRITERS WOULD COLLAB ON A FIC I NEARLY DIED BRUH THESE MIRROR FICS ARE AMAZE JUST LIKE THEIR OTHER FICS

Stick It by noussommeslessquelettes

After a run-in with the law, former national phenom turned delinquent Keith Kogane is forced to return to the regimented world of elite gymnastics, facing old foes and new challenges.

>>!!!!!!!!!! it’s such a good fic!! based on such a good movie!!!!! i’m kinda upset that not more people have read it, it’s good, give it a try, it won’t disappoint^^

Not That Bad by varelsen

A college AU featuring coffee shops, silly rivalries, motorcycles, arcade games, friendships, and lots of warm, fluffy feelings that are both confusing and delightful all at the same time.

>>the summary nails it. also starring socially anxious!keith but despite that he seems pretty in character. it’s amazing and i really love this author’s style of writing :D

He Who Fights Monsters by magisterpavus

In a world where monstrous dragons terrorize humanity daily, the Garrison trains valiant Knights to slay the evil beasts and defend Earth. But when Knight cadet Lance Espinosa is kidnapped by a strange red dragon who kills its own kind, certain truths are revealed…and so are the true monsters.

>>dragon au i repeat dragon au this is not a drill everyone - this fic!!! is freaking!!!! amazing!!!!!!! it’s in my top 5 minimum go try it out :D

Altea High by Lixie (! unfinished!)

Go back to school they said. It’ll be fun they said. Yeah, sure. It’s tons of fun scaling lava walls, accidentally setting things on fire, and being babysat by the school’s flirt.
When Lance signed up (*cough* bribed *cough*) to show the new firebug around the school he thought it would be a piece of cake. He did not anticipate the sour attitude, spontaneous explosions, intimate moments in elevators…

>>the sky high au you always knew you needed :D it’s still in the very early stages but the fic is really fun so far!!

Blue Shells and Comic Books by SonofHades (! unfinished!)

Lance has too much time on his hands, Keith doesn’t have enough. Lance leans more towards being outgoing and sociable, while Keith keeps to himself and can be mostly unpleasant. Neither think they have anything in common. What they don’t realize, however, is that there happens to be a very popular graphic novel that connects them together. Lance happens to be an avid reader and Keith just happens to secretly be the author.

>>another fic i’m super pumped for oh my god. each new chapter mail has me grinning like a maniac. the waiting between updates is suffering but all worth it in the end. it’s fun and interesting and i love it!

Flirting With Death by drippingpen (! unfinished!)

Keith commits the ultimate taboo as a grim reaper: he saves a life.
More specifically, he saves Lance’s life.
Now they are forever linked, unable to survive without the other. Keith must protect Lance from the forces that are trying to right Keith’s wrong and kill Lance.

>>skdfghjksfhgdksjfhgjfjd i cannot describe it. the plot is really amazing and keith and lance are so attracted to each other but they can’t kiss because that would literally kill lance. it belongs to the top most interesting voltron fics out there :D

in your shoes by lydiamartin (! unfinished!)

The one where Keith and Lance live in different cities but swap bodies – and angry love notes – multiple times a week.

>>Kimi No Na Wa (your name) AU!!!! so basically anything but your typical body switch AU :P give it a try, you will be surprised by it, especially if you haven’t seen the movie.

Of Lions And House Cats by Ms_Towa (! unfinished!)

Keith is a superhero who’s been pining after the cute boy who works at the music shop across the street from HQ. He also doesn’t know that the cute boy is the same vigilante he wants to bring to justice.

>>!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all the chapters are insanely long but they’re all worth it. the plot develops rather slowly but it’s perfect as it is :P the slowest of burns. despite that it never made me lose interest in it so definitely go check it out if you have multiple hours of nothing to do!! :D


I’m gonna stop here because this list is already insanely long but it is faaaaaar from finished, believe me. This fandom produces so many good fics I can’t keep up with it ; - ;

Drug Wars (Pt. 2)


mafia!Jungkook x Reader

“She’s a babygirl Yoongi, and I think I’m in love with her.”

Warnings: There will be very explicit sexual content, violence, drugs, graphic descriptions of everything,so please don’t read if you’re easily triggered and please don’t do drugs.

A/N: None of these pictures are mine, credits to the owners. There are mistakes, I’ll reread it later. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 | The Real Drug War


University was finally over and this was the last gathering you had to attend – your friend was celebrating his birthday at a downtown club and the two hours you spent there were already too much. It was almost impossible to breathe in there, one guy kept following you the entire night and the cocktail you were drinking was making you sick.

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Why Reviews Matter

This is an issue I’ve been wanting to discuss for a while, but with Gruvia week fast approaching, I thought now would be a good time to finally broach this subject. Mind you, this is hardly a new, or unaddressed issue. This has been brought up on Tumblr many a time, and in many a fandom. But I wanted to address it again, because it is so important.

*Also, because I know many people don’t like to read long blocks of text, I have included random pics of Gruvia with even more random comments to keep people entertained. Enjoy!*

Since my time in the Gruvia fandom, I have always made it a point to participate in Gruvia Week, and likewise, I have always regretted it.

Why? Because the amount of effort/time put into writing fics for Gruvia Week was never worth the amount of feedback/acknowledgement I received in return for my efforts. I don’t like begging for reviews. In fact, when I first entered the FT fandom, and started writing Gruvia fics, I would NEVER ask for reviews. I figured, if people wanted to review, they would. But over the past couple of years, I started asking for them. You know why? Because the amount of written feedback compared to the amount of notes/favs(if we’re talking about fan fiction DOT net) I received on fics was wildly imbalanced.

Was it just me, or was the anime filler unison raid more magically impressive than the official one?

And have I gotten more reviews since I started requesting them. Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. Part of that is the FT fandom has shrunk, but another part of it is the *type* of stories I usually put out. I like writing one-shots. I find it more enjoyable to just get a completed story out there all at once. I don’t really have the patience or dedication anymore to keep up a multi-chapter fic. But multi-chapters DO often get more reviews. Why? Because those reading want to encourage the writer to continue the story. And that’s great. That’s how it should be. BUT, that’s how it should be for completed fics, too. And yet, it’s not.

Because I am giving my readers an already completed story, there is no incentive to review. Which from a writer’s perspective, is so discouraging. For a writer, putting out an ending to a story (and mind you, many of my one-shots are 6,000-10,000 words long, so definitely not SHORT) is when they need feedback the most. They want to know whether it was liked or not. That’s the most important time to review. But so many people don’t, because what’s in it for them? They already received everything you were giving out.

Do you see how horrible that is, though? Someone took the time (some fiction takes hours, days and even weeks and months) to write and share a whole story for free, and the least a reader can do, “the review,” is not worth most people’s time. But if that’s the case, then why should I, the writer, waste my time putting out a story in the first place? Liking or faving a story isn’t enough. We want to know what you liked (or even didn’t like) about it. That’s how we improve. We thrive on feedback.

I imagine they might say these kinds of things in bed together, too.

So, yes, as far as one-shots go, why should you leave a review? The story is complete. You don’t need to ask for another chapter to see how it ends. I’ll tell you why. Because while you received a story this time, there’s no guarantee there will be another one in the future. And I know I’m not the only writer or artist who feels like this.

And yes, writing should not be all about the reviews. You should absolute write for yourself above and beyond anything else. And I DO. However, the story is already in my head. I’m already enjoying it. I don’t really need to write it down. I do that more for others rather than myself. And yet the lack of appreciation for this kills my motivation to write anything else.

And all writers KNOW people are reading but not reviewing. The amount of traffic, favs or notes my stories receive in comparison to the amount of reviews are not even close to matching up. If you enjoyed a story enough to fav, follow, like or reblog, then please think about also leaving a comment. No one is asking you to match their story with a novel of your own in a review, but sometimes even a few short words are so appreciated by writers and artists.

Boobs.

If you don’t acknowledge your artists and writers, your fandom dries up. People leave or move on. People stop making gifs, writing, drawing, etc.. If your fandom dries up, then content for the things you love also dries up. Is that really ok? Not only that, but imagine writers and artists who are new to fandom, and new to art and writing in general. Imagine how hard it is for them? You could make the difference between someone giving up and never reaching their full potential, or your review inspiring them to improve to the point that they one day become a famous author or artist. Never think your review doesn’t matter. IT DOES.

Now, back to the topic of Gruvia Week itself. I think the lack of feedback during Gruvia Week especially is a combination of things. Firstly, there’s a lot of content (which is very good! That’s what everyone wants for Gruvia Week, but…). That also means a lot of competition. Things move faster in the tags than normal, things get pushed down, and the sensory overload kicks in, so fics and/or art that would usually receive tons of notes or more feedback on a normal day, just don’t receive as much appreciation during Gruvia Week.

Secondly, there’s the “one-shot” effect I already explained above. People know that no matter what, most users who are participating in Gruvia Week are likely going to post all the content they already prepared. So, you’re going to get “the product” regardless of what you as a reader or spectator do. So, there’s no incentive to encourage the artist or writer, as you will receive that content regardless.

Did Juvia give Gray that butterfly t-shirt? And what did Gray want to tell Juvia before he got made into swiss cheese by the dragon spawns? The mysteries of the GMG forever unsolved.

Now, I’m not saying Gruvia Week is bad for all artists or writers. I actually think for artists and writers just starting out, it’s a GREAT thing. Being reblogged by the Gruvia Week tumblr, which surely has a massive following, helps your art/writing reach more people than it usually would.  

So, I’m not trying to discourage people to participate at all. On the contrary, I’m trying to ENCOURAGE people who read fics or like seeing art/graphics/etc, to ALSO participate. If you can’t draw, or can’t write, but you enjoy it when other people do, LET THEM KNOW. No one wants a dead pairing week, and not providing feedback is the fastest way to kill future ship weeks.

The reason I kept participating every year, for the last three years, was because I hoped things would be better this time. They never were. If anything, if got worse year after year. I’m not saying everything I write is a masterpiece, and I should be showered with a constant stream of praise. But as I explained at the start, the amount of notes and favs do not add up with the amount of actual reviews/feedback received.

This is the most manga time conscious Gray and Juvia have had together in the last six months *cries*

I know some people can be shy. I know some people just like to lurk. But please think of the person creating the content that you just enjoyed. Yes, they drew art this week, or wrote a fic this year, so you already received your reward. But what is the artist’s reward? What are they getting out of it, and what is their incentive to write another story, draw more art, make another graphic, or video? You are not giving them a reason to. And that is exactly why so many people quit drawing, writing, or contributing to fandom all together. So, please don’t let that happen. Please make this Gruvia Week different.

Gray: We are so attractive. 

Juvia: We really are, Gray-sama. I hope people read this whole thing and didn’t just look at our gorgeous faces. 

Gray: I can’t blame them if they did just that. We are fabulous. 

When the Cock Crows

Originally posted by whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname

A/N: This is pure silly fun. Basically it’s the kind of trash conversations my ass blesses subjects my friends to. Seriously though, it’s a result of a post from @impala-dreamer, I yelled at her for it and then she was a terrible influence and encouraged these shenanigans by talking to me about it (oh yeah she beta’d it too because she’s an angel). I hope you guys like it!

Warnings: So many swears…l mean cock is in the title ffs…also we’ll call it smut adjacent (nothing graphic it’s just on the road to bang town) Gratuitous use of a Sam gif for no other reason than chest hair.

Words: 2,060 (I’m not even sorry)

~

“Did anyone catch what she said before the…the uh poof?”

“I got nothin’ Sammy. Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“It’s…I’m fine. Just knocked the wind outta me. Babe, I’m ok really.”

“Ok well maybe she didn’t do anything? Maybe she just said stuff for the poof.”

“Sure Dean. Because stuff like that always happens to us. She was looking at us, Y/N was behind her so most likely if any of us are cursed it’ll be either me or you.”

Sam wasn’t looking at Dean while he spoke. He was checking you over to see if you were hurt. It was sweet. Sweet, and so annoying.

“Hey I’m fine. Let’s just get back motel and figure out our next move.”

“She’s right, Dean you want to pull the car up and I’ll help Y/N out?”

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Better as Three Part 3 (M)

**GIF NOT MINE

Mini-series.­

Part 1  Part 2  Part 4

Characters:  Mark Tuan (GOT7) x You (OC/Reader) x Im Jaebum (JB, GOT7)

Genre:  Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst, AU

Length:     4,887 words

Plot:  After Jaebum comes back from a sudden out of the country business trip, the two of you finally reconcile and his desire to make it up to you reached a whole new level.

Warning/s:  Poly!Markbum, Polyamorous relationship, Slight car sex, Blowjob, Deep throating, Mild spanking, Slightly dom!JB, Slight begging, etc.

A/N:  Third part; another het smut with the reader’s other boyfriend hahaha how lucky is this girl lmao.  And again this is very detailed and graphic so please read at your own risk!  I tried making this to full-on dom!jb… but I failed hahaha!  I hope you enjoy!!!


6PM.

You will finally be out of work and you are more than excited to go home tonight.

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Michael Jackson: The Human Being Behind The Superstar By Paris Jackson

Paris Jackson: Life After Neverland (Rolling Stone Interview )

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson’s daughter discusses her father’s pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

Paris-Michael Katherine Jackson is staring at a famous corpse. “That’s Marilyn Monroe,” she whispers, facing a wall covered with gruesome autopsy photos. “And that’s JFK. You can’t even find these online.” On a Thursday afternoon in late November, Paris is making her way through the Museum of Death, a cramped maze of formaldehyde-scented horrors on Hollywood Boulevard. It’s not uncommon for visitors, confronted with decapitation photos, snuff films and serial-killer memorabilia, to faint, vomit or both. But Paris, not far removed from the emo and goth phases of her earlier teens, seems to find it all somehow soothing. This is her ninth visit. “It’s awesome,” she had said on the way over. “They have a real electric chair and a real head!”

Paris Jackson turned 18 last April, and moment by moment, can come across as much older or much younger, having lived a life that’s veered between sheltered and agonizingly exposed. She is a pure child of the 21st century, with her mashed-up hippie-punk fashion sense (today she’s wearing a tie-dye button-down, jeggings and Converse high-tops) and boundary-free musical tastes (she’s decorated her sneakers with lyrics by Mötley Crüe and Arctic Monkeys; is obsessed with Alice Cooper – she calls him “bae” – and the singer-songwriter Butch Walker; loves Nirvana and Justin Bieber too). But she is, even more so, her father’s child. “Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is,” says her older brother, Prince Michael Jackson. “The only thing that’s different would be her age and her gender.” Paris is similar to Michael, he adds, “in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She’s very passionate. She is very emotional to the point where she can let emotion cloud her judgment.”

Paris has, with impressive speed, acquired more than 50 tattoos, sneaking in the first few while underage. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson, who died when she was 11 years old, sending her, Prince and their youngest brother, Blanket, spiraling out of what had been – as they perceived it – a cloistered, near-idyllic little world. “They always say, ‘Time heals,’” she says. “But it really doesn’t. You just get used to it. I live life with the mentality of 'OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.’ So going forward, anything bad that happens can’t be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it.” Michael still visits her in her dreams, she says: “I feel him with me all the time.”

Michael, who saw himself as Peter Pan, liked to call his only daughter Tinker Bell. She has FAITH, TRUST AND PIXIE DUST inked near her clavicle. She has an image from the cover of Dangerous on her forearm, the Bad logo on her hand, and the words QUEEN OF MY HEART – in her dad’s handwriting, from a letter he wrote her – on her inner left wrist. “He’s brought me nothing but joy,” she says. “So why not have constant reminders of joy?" 

She also has tattoos honoring John Lennon, David Bowie and her dad’s sometime rival Prince – plus Van Halen and, on her inner lip, the word MÖTLEY (her boyfriend has CRÜE in the same spot). On her right wrist is a rope-and-jade bracelet that Michael bought in Africa. He was wearing it when he died, and Paris’ nanny retrieved it for her. "It still smells like him,” Paris says.

She fixes her huge blue-green eyes on each of the museum’s attractions without flinching, until she comes to a section of taxidermied pets. “I don’t really like this room,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I draw the line with animals. I can’t do it. This breaks my heart.” She recently rescued a hyperactive pit-bull-mix puppy, Koa, who has an uneasy coexistence with Kenya, a snuggly Labrador her dad brought home a decade ago.

Paris describes herself as “desensitized” to even the most graphic reminders of human mortality. In June 2013, drowning in depression and a drug addiction, she tried to kill herself at age 15, slashing her wrist and downing 20 Motrin pills. “It was just self-hatred,” she says, “low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn’t do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore.” She had been self-harming, cutting herself, managing to conceal it from her family. Some of her tattoos now cover the scars, as well as what she says are track marks from drug use. Before that, she had already attempted suicide “multiple times,” she says, with an incongruous laugh. “It was just once that it became public.” The hospital had a “three-strike rule,” she recalls, and, after that last attempt, insisted she attend a residential therapy program.

Home-schooled before her father’s death, Paris had agreed to attend a private school starting in seventh grade. She didn’t fit in – at all – and started hanging out with the only kids who accepted her, “a lot of older people doing a lot of crazy things,” she says. “I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn’t do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn’t really that nice of a person.” She also faced cyberbullying, and still struggles with cruel online comments. “The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great,” she says. “But I don’t think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff.”

There was another trauma that she’s never mentioned in public. When she was 14, a much older “complete stranger” sexually assaulted her, she says. “I don’t wanna give too many details. But it was not a good experience at all, and it was really hard for me, and, at the time, I didn’t tell anybody.”

After her last suicide attempt, she spent sophomore year and half of junior year at a therapeutic school in Utah. “It was great for me,” she says. “I’m a completely different person.” Before, she says with a small smile, “I was crazy. I was actually crazy. I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help.” Her father, she says, also struggled with depression, and she was prescribed the same antidepressants he once took, though she’s no longer on any psych meds.

Now sober and happier than she’s ever been, with menthol cigarettes her main remaining vice, Paris moved out of her grandma Katherine’s house shortly after her 18th birthday, heading to the old Jackson family estate. She spends nearly every minute of each day with her boyfriend, Michael Snoddy, a 26-year-old drummer – he plays with the percussion ensemble Street Drum Corps – and Virginia native whose dyed mohawk, tattoos and perpetually sagging pants don’t obscure boy-band looks and a puppy-dog sweetness. “I never met anyone before who made me feel the way music makes me feel,” says Paris. When they met, he had an ill-considered, now-covered Confederate flag tattoo that raised understandable doubts among the Jacksons. “But the more I actually got to know him,” says Prince, “he’s a really cool guy.”

Paris took a quick stab at community college after graduating high school – a year early – in 2015, but wasn’t feeling it. She is an heir to a mammoth fortune – the Michael Jackson Family Trust is likely worth more than $1 billion, with disbursements to the kids in stages. But she wants to earn her own money, and now that she’s a legal adult, to embrace her other inheritance: celebrity.

And in the end, as the charismatic, beautiful daughter of one of the most famous men who ever lived, what choice did she have? She is, for now, a model, an actress, a work in progress. She can, when she feels like it, exhibit a regal poise that’s almost intimidating, while remaining chill enough to become pals with her giant-goateed tattoo artist. She has impeccable manners – you might guess that she was raised well. She so charmed producer-director Lee Daniels in a recent meeting that he’s begun talking to her manager about a role for her on his Fox show, Star . She plays a few instruments, writes and sings songs (she performs a couple for me on acoustic guitar, and they show promise, though they’re more Laura Marling than MJ), but isn’t sure if she’ll ever pursue a recording contract.

Modeling, in particular, comes naturally, and she finds it therapeutic. “I’ve had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time,” says Paris, who understands her dad’s plastic-surgery choices after watching online trolls dissect her appearance since she was 12. “Plenty of people think I’m ugly, and plenty of people don’t. But there’s a moment when I’m modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer’s telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it’s selfish.”

But mostly, she shares her father’s heal-the-world impulses (“I’m really scared for the Great Barrier Reef,” she says. “It’s, like, dying. This whole planet is. Poor Earth, man”), and sees fame as a means to draw attention to favored causes. “I was born with this platform,” she says. “Am I gonna waste it and hide away? Or am I going to make it bigger and use it for more important things?”

Her dad wouldn’t have minded. “If you wanna be bigger than me, you can,” he’d tell her. “If you don’t want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy.”

At the moment, Paris lives in the private studio where her dad demoed “Beat It.” The Tudor-style main house in the now-empty Jackson family compound in the LA neighborhood of Encino – purchased by Joe Jackson in 1971 with some of the Jackson 5’s first Motown royalties, and rebuilt by Michael in the Eighties – is under renovation. But the studio, built by Michael in a brick building across the courtyard, happens to be roughly the size of a decent Manhattan apartment, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Paris has turned it into a vibe-y, cozy dorm room.

Traces of her father are everywhere, most unmistakably in the artwork he commissioned. Outside the studio is a framed picture, done in a Disney-like style, of a cartoon castle on a hilltop with a caricatured Michael in the foreground, a small blond boy embracing him.It’s captioned “Of Children, Castles & Kings.” Inside is a mural taking up an entire wall, with another cartoon Michael in the corner, holding a green book titled The Secret of Life and looking down from a window at blooming flowers – at the center of each bloom is a cartoon face of a red-cheeked little girl.

Paris’ chosen decor is somewhat different. There is a picture of Kurt Cobain in the bathroom, a Smashing Pumpkins poster on the wall, a laptop with Against Me! and NeverEnding Story stickers, psychedelic paisley wall hangings, lots of fake candles. Vinyl records (Alice Cooper, the Rolling Stones) serve as wall decorations. In the kitchen, sitting casually on a counter, is a framed platinum record, inscribed to Michael by Quincy Jones (“I found it in the attic,” Paris shrugs).

Above an adjacent garage is a mini-museum Michael created as a surprise gift for his family, with the walls and even ceilings covered with photos from their history. Michael used to rehearse dance moves in that room; now Paris’ boyfriend has his drum kit set up there.

We head out to a nearby sushi restaurant, and Paris starts to describe life in Neverland. She spent her first seven years in her dad’s 2,700-acre fantasy world, with its own amusement park, zoo and movie theater. (“Everything I never got to do as a kid,” Michael called it.) During that time, she didn’t know that her father’s name was Michael, let alone have any grasp of his fame. “I just thought his name was Dad, Daddy,” she says. “We didn’t really know who he was. But he was our world. And we were his world.” (Paris declared last year’s Captain Fantastic , where Viggo Mortensen plays an eccentric dad who tries to create a utopian hideaway for his kids, her “favorite movie ever.”)

“We couldn’t just go on the rides whenever we wanted to,” she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don’t much like it either. “We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn’t get to go do all those things." 

In his 2011 memoir, Michael’s brother Jermaine called him "an example of what fatherhood should be. He instilled in them the love Mother gave us, and he provided the kind of emotional fathering that our father, through no fault of his own, could not. Michael was father and mother rolled into one.”

Michael gave the kids the option of going to regular school. They declined. “When you’re at home,” says Paris, “your dad, who you love more than anything, will occasionally come in, in the middle of class, and it’s like, 'Cool, no more class for the day. We’re gonna go hang out with Dad.’ We were like, 'We don’t need friends. We’ve got you and Disney Channel!’” She was, she acknowledges, “a really weird kid.”

Her dad taught her how to cook, soul food, mostly. “He was a kick-ass cook,” she says. “His fried chicken is the best in the world. He taught me how to make sweet potato pie.” Paris is baking four pies, plus gumbo, for grandma Katherine’s Thanksgiving – which actually takes place the day before the holiday, in deference to Katherine’s Jehovah’s Witness beliefs.

Michael schooled Paris on every conceivable genre of music. “My dad worked with Van Halen, so I got into Van Halen,” she says.“He worked with Slash, so I got into Guns N’ Roses. He introduced me to Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Earth, Wind and Fire, the Temptations, Tupac, Run-DMC.”

She says Michael emphasized tolerance. “My dad raised me in a very open-minded house,” she says. “I was eight years old, in love with this female on the cover of a magazine. Instead of yelling at me, like most homophobic parents, he was making fun of me, like, 'Oh, you got yourself a girlfriend.’

"His number-one focus for us,” says Paris, “besides loving us, was education. And he wasn’t like, 'Oh, yeah, mighty Columbus came to this land!’ He was like, 'No. He fucking slaughtered the natives.’” Would he really phrase it that way? “He did have kind of a potty mouth. He cussed like a sailor.” But he was also “very shy.”

Paris and Prince are quite aware of public doubts about their parentage (the youngest brother, Blanket, with his darker skin, is the subject of less speculation). Paris’ mom is Debbie Rowe, a nurse Michael met while she was working for his dermatologist, the late Arnold Klein. They had what sounds like an unconventional three-year marriage, during which, Rowe once testified, they never shared a home. Michael said that Rowe wanted to have his children “as a present” to him. (Rowe said that Paris got her name from the location of her conception.) Klein, her employer, was one of several men – including the actor Mark Lester, who played the title role in the 1968 movie Oliver! – who suggested that they could be Paris’ actual biological father.

Over popcorn shrimp and a Clean Mean Salmon Roll, Paris agrees to address this issue for what she says will be the only time. She could opt for an easy, logical answer, could point out that it doesn’t matter, that either way, Michael Jackson was her father. That’s what her brother – who describes himself as “more objective” than Paris – seems to suggest. “Every time someone asks me that,” Prince says, “I ask, 'What’s the point? What difference does it make?’ Specifically to someone who’s not involved in my life. How does that affect your life? It doesn’t change mine.”

But Paris is certain that Michael Jackson was her biological dad. She believes it with a fervency that is both touching and, in the moment, utterly convincing. “He is my father,” she says, making fierce eye contact. “He will always be my father. He never wasn’t, and he never will not be. People that knew him really well say they see him in me, that it’s almost scary.

"I consider myself black,” she says, adding later that her dad “would look me in the eyes and he’d point his finger at me and he’d be like, 'You’re black. Be proud of your roots.’ And I’d be like, 'OK, he’s my dad, why would he lie to me?’ So I just believe what he told me. 'Cause, to my knowledge, he’s never lied to me.

"Most people that don’t know me call me white,” Paris concedes. “I’ve got light skin and, especially since I’ve had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something.” She points out that it’s far from unheard of for mixed-race kids to look like her – accurately noting that her complexion and eye color are similar to the TV actor Wentworth Miller’s, who has a black dad and a white mom.

At first, she had no relationship with Rowe. “When I was really, really young, my mom didn’t exist,” Paris recalls. Eventually, she realized “a man can’t birth a child” – and when she was 10 or so, she asked Prince, “We gotta have a mom, right?” So she asked her dad. “And he’s like, 'Yeah.’ And I was like, 'What’s her name?’ And he’s just like, 'Debbie.’ And I was like, 'OK, well, I know the name.’” After her father’s death, she started researching her mom online, and they got together when Paris was 13.

In the wake of her treatment in Utah, Paris decided to reach out again to Rowe. “She needed a mother figure,” says Prince, who declines to comment on his own relationship, or lack thereof, with Rowe. (Paris’ manager declined to make Rowe available for an interview, and Rowe did not respond to our request for comment.) “I’ve had a lot of mother figures,” Paris counters, citing her grandmother and nannies, among others, “but by the time my mom came into my life, it wasn’t a 'mommy’ thing. It’s more of an adult relationship.” Paris sees herself in Rowe, who just completed a course of chemo in a fight against breast cancer: “We’re both very stubborn.”

Paris isn’t sure how Michael felt about Rowe, but says Rowe was “in love” with her dad. She’s also sure that Michael loved Lisa Marie Presley, whom he divorced two years before Paris’ birth: “In the music video 'You Are Not Alone,’ I can see how he looked at her, and he was totally whipped,” she says with a fond laugh.

Paris Jackson was around nine years old when she realized that much of the world didn’t see her father the way she did. “My dad would cry to me at night,” she says, sitting at the counter of a New York coffee shop in mid-December, cradling a tiny spoon in her hand. She starts to cry too. “Picture your parent crying to you about the world hating him for something he didn’t do. And for me, he was the only thing that mattered. To see my entire world in pain, I started to hate the world because of what they were doing to him. I’m like, 'How can people be so mean?’” She pauses. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

Paris and Prince have no doubts that their father was innocent of the multiple child-molestation allegations against him, that the man they knew was the real Michael. Again, they are persuasive – if they could go door-to-door talking about it, they could sway the world.“Nobody but my brothers and I experienced him reading A Light in the Attic to us at night before we went to bed,” says Paris.“Nobody experienced him being a father to them. And if they did, the entire perception of him would be completely and forever changed.” I gently suggest that what Michael said to her on those nights was a lot to put on a nine-year-old. “He did not bullshit us,” she replies. “You try to give kids the best childhood possible. But you also have to prepare them for the shitty world.”

Michael’s 2005 molestation trial ended in an acquittal, but it shattered his reputation and altered the course of his family’s lives. He decided to leave Neverland for good. They spent the next four years traveling the world, spending long stretches of time in the Irish countryside, in Bahrain, in Las Vegas. Paris didn’t mind – it was exciting, and home was where her dad was.

By 2009, Michael was preparing for an ambitious slate of comeback performances at London’s O2 Arena. “He kind of hyped it up to us,” recalls Paris. “He was like, 'Yeah, we’re gonna live in London for a year.’ We were super-excited – we already had a house out there we were gonna live in.” But Paris remembers his “exhaustion” as rehearsals began. “I’d tell him, 'Let’s take a nap,’” she says.“Because he looked tired. We’d be in school, meaning downstairs in the living room, and we’d see dust falling from the ceiling and hear stomping sounds because he was rehearsing upstairs.”

Paris has a lingering distaste for AEG Live, the promoters behind the planned This Is It tour – her family lost a wrongful-death suit against them, with the jury accepting AEG’s argument that Michael was responsible for his own death. “AEG Live does not treat their performers right,” she alleges. “They drain them dry and work them to death.” (A rep for AEG declined comment.) She describes seeing Justin Bieber on a recent tour and being “scared” for him. “He was tired, going through the motions. I looked at my ticket, saw AEG Live, and I thought back to how my dad was exhausted all the time but couldn’t sleep.”

Paris blames Dr. Conrad Murray – who was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in her father’s death – for the dependency on the anesthetic drug propofol that led to it. She calls him “the 'doctor,’” with satirical air quotes. But she has darker suspicions about her father’s death. “He would drop hints about people being out to get him,” she says. “And at some point he was like, 'They’re gonna kill me one day.’” (Lisa Marie Presley told Oprah Winfrey of a similar conversation with Michael, who expressed fears that unnamed parties were targeting him to get at his half of the Sony/ATV music-publishing catalog, worth hundreds of millions.)

Paris is convinced that her dad was, somehow, murdered. “Absolutely,” she says. “Because it’s obvious. All arrows point to that. It sounds like a total conspiracy theory and it sounds like bullshit, but all real fans and everybody in the family knows it. It was a setup. It was bullshit.”

But who would have wanted Michael Jackson dead? Paris pauses for several seconds, maybe considering a specific answer, but just says, “A lot of people.” Paris wants revenge, or at least justice. “Of course,” she says, eyes glowing. “I definitely do, but it’s a chess game. And I am trying to play the chess game the right way. And that’s all I can say about that right now.”

Michael had his kids wear masks in public, a protective move Paris considered “stupid” but later came to understand. So it made all the more of an impression when a brave little girl spontaneously stepped to the microphone at her dad’s televised memorial service, on July 7th, 2009. “Ever since I was born,” she said, “Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine, and I just wanted to say I love him so much.”

She was 11 years old, but she knew what she was doing. “I knew afterward there was gonna be plenty of shit-talking,” Paris says, “plenty of people questioning him and how he raised us. That was the first time I ever publicly defended him, and it definitely won’t be the last.” For Prince, his younger sister showed in that moment that she had “more strength than any of us.”

The day after her trip to the Museum of Death, Paris, Michael Snoddy and Tom Hamilton, her model-handsome, man-bunned 31-year-old manager, head over to Venice Beach. We stroll the boardwalk, and Snoddy recalls a brief stint as a street performer here when he first moved to LA, drumming on buckets. “It wasn’t bad,” he says. “I averaged out to a hundred bucks a day.”

Paris has her hair extensions in a ponytail. She’s wearing sunglasses with circular lenses, a green plaid shirt over leggings, and a Rasta-rainbow backpack. Her mood is darker today. She’s not talking much, and clinging tight to Snoddy, who’s in a Willie Nelson tee with the sleeves cut off.

We head toward the canals, lined with ultramodern houses that Paris doesn’t like. “They’re too harsh and bougie,” she says. “It doesn’t scream, 'Hey, come for dinner!’” She’s delighted to spot a group of ducks. “Hello, friends!” she shouts. “Come play with us!"Among them are what appear to be an avian couple in love, paddling through the shallow water in close formation. Paris sighs and squeezes Snoddy’s hand. "Goals,” she says. “Hashtag 'goals.’”

Her spirits are lifting, and we walk back toward the beach to watch the sunset. Paris and Snoddy hop on a concrete barrier facing the orange-pink spectacle. It’s a peaceful moment, until a middle-aged woman in neon jogging clothes and knee-length socks walks over.She grins at the couple as she presses a button on some kind of tiny stereo strapped to her waist, unleashing a dated-sounding trance song. Paris laughs and turns to her boyfriend. As the sun disappears, they start to dance.

From being a kick-ass cook to a strict dad, here are the 5 things we learned about the King of Pop from Paris Jackson.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0kjc3VEwFM


On the complexity of words in our racialized and colonialized world, and my own liminality...

TW: Discussion of the term “g*psy,” which I know may be a triggering word to some of my American followers in particular. I’ve done my best to tag this. Let me know if I’ve left something out.

So I need to talk about this. I really don’t want to because I feel like I’m going to be attacked for doing so. But this is my life in a super literal way, and I am taking time to process all this, with my cultural background, and my personal history, and my non-belonginess, and all the other super heavy baggage I have, and my society has, with this word and this way of life.

I’ve seen the occasional post on here talking about the culture on Tumblr of sometimes oversimplifying their activism and not understanding the full breadth of certain issues, and I’m kicking myself for it even as I type, but… today I’d like to address the international complexity of the term “gypsy.” Specifically, its use in the UK.

(Oh god, what am I doing sticking my foot in this hornet’s nest…)

All I ask is that you really just read this before you rip my head off, yeah? Please. I need to talk about this.

That word does not mean the same thing here that it means in the US, where I come from.

In America, it’s a pretty negative word to a lot of people of any degree of social consciousness. In America, that word is associated almost exclusively with the Romani people, an extremely marginalized group of POC who’ve been subject to every type of violence in existence, up to and including genocide. It is almost always used as either a slur, or an ignorantly appropriative capitalist tool. They’re the only well-known group of nomadic people Americans are familiar with in relatively modern times (since most nomadic Natives were killed or had their seasonal routes cut off long ago), and naturally, it has therefore remained a very racialized term in America. As a general rule, all nomadic peoples known to Americans are POC who have suffered genocide, sometimes to the point of extinction.

It’s fucking heavy. And that is what my brain still emotionally understands, when I hear that word. I’ve felt, and feel, that ickiness listening to someone use that word carelessly, or as if it were a trendy aesthetic™. This post is hard to write, because I have to use it.

So, Americans, I get this. ‘K? Me too. And Brits, if you’ve ever wondered why this strikes such a chord with Americans, that’s why, and this might be some handy knowledge for you to have when traveling to the US: “gypsy” is not a nice word in the US, and “Traveller” isn’t a term most Americans will recognize. We don’t have any legislation protecting Traveller rights, the way you do (inadequate as they may be). If you want to refer to the Romani, use Romani. If you want to refer to Travellers as a diverse group, use “nomadic people.”

But now I live in the UK. In the UK, “gypsy” is a government-official term, and people refer to themselves and others by this term routinely. And most confusingly, to my American sensibilities, it has little to do with your ethnicity. Even ethnic gypsies are most frequently white British, in the UK (the UK has its own native nomadic populations, especially from Ireland and Scotland). But there are also non-ethnic gypsies. It’s a term that refers more to your mode of living than to your race.

My gypsy neighbors are Irish, English, and Romani. The Irish Travellers and Romani obviously have an ethnic history of nomadism. But the ethnically English do not. He’s a Traveller, legally speaking, and part of larger gypsy society. And here, that is legally and culturally legitimate. He isn’t considered an ethnic minority, the way ethnic Travellers are, but culturally has a home under both terms.

There are other slurs in the UK for Travellers, of course. And there are also people who talk about them in a racist way (*cough* Tories *cough*). If I were to draw a comparison to American linguistics, “gypsy” in the UK is much like “queer” in America. It is simultaneously a neutral and inclusive word, and a word which is often found in the mouth of bigots. It has a complex history that has both highs and lows.

I still prefer to use Traveller, because I’m American and “gypsy” leaves a weird taste in my mouth. But that only works in writing, where it is capitalized. In speech, that term could just as easily mean kids on a gap year, and it isn’t useful for specifying nomadic people. So in speech… the word everyone uses is “gypsy.” This word which gives me the willies is now a normal part of my life. It is hard for me to get used to that. But also, apprehensively positive. What a wonderful community this is. It isn’t any stupid stereotypes. I mean, the dude a couple caravans down from me is a graphic designer. It’s just a really solid community of people who are just… really wonderful.

So… this is a major part of my existence right now. Please remember that Tumblr is an international community. Not everyone you see using that word is a racist throwing out a slur. Some of them aren’t even referring to the Romani. If they’re British, they’re probably more likely to be referring to the Irish, or to people of diverse or unknown ethnic backgrounds.

It may also be something I start talking about more often, because this is now my life. I live on wheels, in a mostly Traveller community. Legally, I’m a “New Traveller” (and the idea of referring to myself that way sends off a degree of appropriative heebjeebies that’s just unbelievable, but that is the fact of the matter). That is, I would be if anyone knew I was here. But the way these things are interacting for me, and how simultaneously uncomfortable and necessary it is to learn about them given my cultural background, means that it is something that is likely to come up. Something I will need to talk about. A consuming part of my life at the moment.

These people have taken me in, in a very real way that pretty much makes me cry when I think about it. They’ve fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me keep this hell shed from tipping over. They’ve gifted me things for my craft – the part of my life this blog is about. I don’t want to avoid talking about them as they talk about themselves, or understanding the way my self-perception is changing as this is happening, for fear I’ll be mistaken for an asshole. It feels like hiding who they proudly are, because the culture I come from has a different history than they do. I don’t live in that culture anymore, and probably never will again. I need to find some way of reconciling the dissonance with the way my life is now.

I don’t think any of this takes away from the complexity of that term. And to all you goddamn Nazis, don’t you dare take this as a reason why it’s ok to fucking harass the Romani, or I swear I will hex the shit out of you. And since the UK tends to follow American trends, I wouldn’t be surprised if that term eventually goes out of vogue.

But today, it is a very different word from its American counterpart, which is essential for me to fully understand in the context of both my own life, and my experience of adopting my new culture as an immigrant. And I want people to understand where I and other people in Britain are coming from when we talk about it. And I feel a need to be understood in my own life right now.

So… This was probably unwise. I’ll take my blows I guess. I’m just reaching into the dark and hoping I’ll find some understanding. This is very much part of what kind of witch I’m becoming, and more broadly, what kind of human I’m becoming.

3D Effect Tutorial (both Illustrator and Photoshop)

requested by Anonymous

This is a tutorial for how to create the following graphic:

I created the graphic in Illustrator, but this tutorial will demonstrate how to recreate the 3d effect in both Illustrator and Photoshop (whichever you have at hand and are more comfortable with).

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. And if you found this tutorial helpful, please like or reblog!

Keep reading

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I am so excited!!! This little book (well, 264 pages) has been about 9 months in the making, and it’s finally done. Good grief.

Basically, many of my friends at my undergrad university did Creative Writing with me, and for our final project we had to write a 6k word short story and 2k critical commentary - which, by the way, as someone who has done a Master’s since and written a 20k thesis, was just as hard as writing a standard dissertation. As a surprise to everyone, I sneakily got copies of everyone’s short stories by pretending I just wanted to read them and compare them to mine, and I made them all into an anthology, which I gave to everyone at graduation. It was a really fun project to work on, even though it took ages to proof read the entire thing and design the cover and cry over Word formatting. We called ourselves the Come Along Collective because ‘come along’ was kind of a catchphrase of ours and ‘collective’ sounded professional and artistic. Sue us, we had degrees in this shit.

In June last year, about 3 years after we graduated, we met up (a pretty big deal, seeing as one of us now lives in the US!) and decided to do another anthology. Without the immediate option of including our conveniently timed university dissertation equivalents, we agreed that it would be really fun if we all wrote a short story of between 4-15k words - this is actually why I wrote Here, the World Entire, which appears in this anthology in a slightly shorter form! Since I made that first anthology back in 2013 our friendship group has changed a little, and so one contributor to the first anthology isn’t in this one and we have a new contributor, but that’s OK; it kind of charts the progression of everyone’s experiences since university.

So, over the past 9 months or so, we all wrote a story each, and everyone put their all into their stories, despite being 23-25 now and not having the luxury of time that we used to have, and honestly, the stories are amazing. There’s not a single one in there that I wouldn’t read in a literary magazine. One person didn’t do Creative Writing and was really worried about their story not matching up to the others, but it absolutely does. I did a little cry when I read it because it was so good and the writer didn’t think it was (I think they are now aware that they are actually super talented and should definitely write more). That was one of the reasons I’m so happy to have this physical copy as proof that it’s done, and people who thought they couldn’t do it did do it, and they did it fabulously, because every single person wrote something phenomenal.

There was one person in the group who wasn’t able to write anything because they had a lot going on in their life, and so the rest of us prepared a SUPER SECRET SURPRISE, complete with a secret Facebook group chat (which was literally titled THE ONE THAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KEEP SECRET) in which we collaborated and wrote a story for her instead so that she would still have a story in the anthology. One person wrote a section, then handed it to the next person, and so on. It turned out to be an absolutely hilarious story involving Emily Blunt as an evil sorceress, Jez and Mark from Peep Show as couriers, and our old landlord as an arch villain. It’s pretty rad, not going to lie. That person still gets their name on the cover because the story wouldn’t have been written without them; we basically tried our best to put that person’s personality into a narrative, and that’s why it’s so weird. They are weird, is what I’m saying.

This whole thing was a massive labour of love for all of us. I was literally proof reading it on lunch breaks, and taking graphic design assignments at work so that I could practice for when I made the cover (which I think looks snazzy, if endearingly off-kilter). Everyone was hugely supportive of one another, giving each other prompts and feedback whenever anyone got stuck, and it was such a fantastic experience to make it from start to finish. I’m so, so proud of the end product, and I’m excited to see what our next one will look like!

I have also prepared a super secret special surprise of my own for everyone within this anthology, which I won’t disclose here just in case any of them happen upon this post. It’s rad, though. I’m excited for everyone to see it.

This isn’t available for commercial purchase or anything like that, but it’s a personal project that’s been taking up a lot of my time lately (in a good way!) and it’ll be kind of sad not to have this to work towards. Still, onto the next thing!

Shy- Andre Burakovsky

Originally posted by tjgoalshie

Ok so that was NOT how I wanted game one to go, but it’s the Pens. Why guard Sid? Not necessary Caps… Oh wait… Anyway enough of me! Enjoy!

Warning: mentions of alcohol

Anon Request: Love ur writing! Can you write a Andre burakovsky one where you meet his team and you’re kinda shy? Thanks! Lots of love<3

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              You sat in the corner, smiling silently.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you do the same reincarnated as cat for Dabi and Hitsuo? The reader is the cat. The reader died protecting them. Scenario?

Some graphic descriptions of injuries so be careful. I love my eggplant son and body horror pyro. Yes, that’s what I call them.

~Shinsou Hitoshi~

“To-Toshi are-are you ok?”

“I’m fi-”, Shinsou freezed mid sentence.

You were laying on the ground, and there was a huge gash across your chest.

“What? No-this can’t be happening.”, he gasped.

“I-I’m just-just glad you’re okay.”, you smiled weakly.

You had just managed to push him out of the way. The villain had thrown some kind of a sickle at him, but you took the hit instead. You had managed to take down the villain, but the sickle had gone deep into your chest, and severed some major arteries. You would bleed to death in no time at all. Atleast it wouldn’t be too excruciating. You could see Shinsou hovering over you, trying to stop the bleeding, but you knew it was too late. You’d die here, but there was something more you had to do. You had to tell him.

“I love you Toshi.”, you whispered weakly.

“I love you too, don’t leave me. Please.”, he pleaded.

Your last breath escaped your lips and you were gone. Your face was left in a neutral expression. Not peaceful and not pained. Somehow it suited you.

“So the bitch died huh?”, Shinsou heard a voice say behind him.

He turned around and saw that the villain who had killed you was standing up again.

“Pity, she could have made me money, human trafficking is a good business ya know. I was gonna take you out but the bitch jumped on the way.”, the villain continued.

You had protected him. This was his fault, if he had been more observant, you wouldn’t have had to save him.

“Hey asshole.”, Shinsou growled.

“You talkin-”, the villain’s eyes went blank.

“Shut up.”, Shinsou growled.

He wanted to make this guy suffer. He wanted to make him carve open his own chest, like he had done to you, but he couldn’t. Even in the middle of all this heartbreak, pain and anger, he couldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of a person. He couldn’t be. It would dishonor your memory. So he just forced the villain to knock himself out.

Shinsou sat on a piece of wall that had crumbled in the midst of fighting. Then he lowered his head to his hands and sobbed quietly. He couldn’t bare to look at your battered body. He didn’t want to see what his failure had cost. His inability to observe his surroundings had been the reason to your end. He was the reason to your life ending. If he couldn’t even save you, maybe he shouldn’t be a hero after all. He shakdd his head. No, you would want him to keep chasing his dream. And he would, for you.

It had been about a month since your death. Shinsou was still pretty down, but he had gotten some comfort from a cat that had been following him around. It was a peculiar cat. Same eye and hair color as you. First he had thought the universe had wanted to punish him with constantly reminding him of his failure. How his mistake had cost your life. But over a little time he had grown to like the cat. It was always around and gave him comfort.

“I know you can’t talk, you’re a cat after all, but… Why do you keep following me around? It’s not like you have any reason to. I haven’t even given you food very often.”

The cat just tilted it’s head and looked at him questioningly. It had done that many times before. You had done it too back when you were alive too. The cat was a painfully sweet reminder of you. Someone he could never get back, and someone he could never forget.

“Damn you.”, he muttered at the cat.

He would keep chasing his dream of becoming a hero. That was how he could honor your memory, he knew that was the future you had hoped for him. Besides he already had his first sidekick. His sidekick was a cat, but it was a start.

~Dabi~

“I’ve gotta mission for the two of you.”, Shigaraki said, pointing at you and Dabi

“Can I go too?”, Toga rejoiced.

“No. I’ve got another job for you.”, Shigaraki growled.

“No fun.”, she pouted.

“So what are we gonna do?”, you asked.

“You’re going to take care of someone. Kill him and come back.”

“Standard job then.”

“He is pretty sly, so he might cause some trouble.”, Shigaraki added.

You and Dabi took off and he still hadn’t said a word. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and he looked bored like usually. You didn’t mind the silence, so you just stayed quiet.

When you two got to the adress Shigaraki had given you, you were a bit confused. This was the an old hotel. It looked like it would crumble down any second. You were at the right place, or atleast the adress was the same as on the paper. This would be a good place to hide, no denying that.

“You sure this is the right place?”, he asked.

“Yep. Can you just burn down the building or something? If he doesn’t die from that, he’ll crawl out of his hiding place.”

Dabi shrugged and set the building on fire nonchalantly. You both just watched as the fire swallowed the building, but no one came out.

“That creep gave us the wrong address.”

“I guess he did.”, you sighted.

You were already turning your back to the smoldering building when you noticed movement on the corner of your eye. It was going straight for Dabi, who was yawning and paying zero attention. Before you even realized, you were standing in front of Dabi. Someone had just pushed their entire forearm through your chest. You could feel the blood dripping from your lips, and the guy’s hand twitching in your chest. Suddenly the hand was gone, and the only thing left of the man was a pile of ash. You fell to Dabi’s chest. He caught you and looked at you weirdly. You had no idea what he was feeling. Was it worry? Sadness? Anger? You really had no idea. Not that he was an easy person to read anyway.

“Why are you such an idiot?”, he asked.

“If you’re talking about the fact I just saved your ass. You know why.”, you smiled, with the blood staining your lips. “I have a request for you. Burn my body and throw the ashes to the wind. I want your fire to erase me.”

Before Dabi could say anything you were gone. The light in your eyes had dimmed out. Your lips were stained with the scarlet blood dribbing down your jaw. He didn’t cry, he didn’t feel sad. He just felt numb, but he wanted to give you what you had asked, so he burned your body. He didn’t like it, seeing your form consumed by his own flames. This fire was never meant to touch you, but now it would be the thing that erased you from this earth.

After you were completely gone, he took a handfull of the ash, and threw it up. The wind carried the ashes away. It carried the last of you away. He showed his hands to his pockets and walked back to the hideout.

“Where is [Name]?”, Toga asked when Dabi walked in alone.

Dabi just scoffed. He didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the evening. He just sat on the couch and watched TV, but he didn’t really concentrate on it. He couldn’t. He could only think about you. How you had saved him and died in the prosess. Why did you even save him? You had said he should know the answer. But he didn’t want to accept what he was thinking. If he did, all of this would be even more painful. If you had loved him, this would be even worse.

Dabi got up from the couch and left the lair. He wondered the streets. He didn’t know where he was going. He was just walking around aimlessly. He incinereted a few punks who tried to pick a fight with him. He really wasn’t on the mood to put effort on anything.

He had walked around for a while, when he noticed something following him. It was a cat. A cat with the same eye color as you. It’s fur also resembled the color of your hair.

“Creep.”, he muttered.

The cat meowed at him.

Dabi was annoyed, so he just threw a ball of fire towards the cat. He missed on purpose, since he just wanted the cat to go away. The cat didn’t even flinch. It just kept glaring at Dabi.

“Creep.”

Dabi turned his back at the cat and walked away, but the cat followed him. Every time he looked back, the cat was still there. It was just padding silently behind him.

Schneeplestein’s Day Off

Schneeplestein sighed, relaxing at home, he finally got a day off from work, or more like they had to force him to take a day off. They at least let him keep his doctor’s outfit, without it he felt like nothing, but he did need some time off, he was overworking himself according to the staff. “Zhose bastards… Zhey do not–” Before he could ramble to himself, his phone had rang, picking it up he saw it was his good friend: Chase Brody. He smiled a little, answering the call rather happily “Ah! guten tag Chase! Are you doing vwell today?” Chase’s voice sounded over the phone “Yeah man! Doing better, got to spend some time when the kids today too!” This made Schneeplestein smile brightly, before responding “Vhy, zat is wunderbar Chase!” He enthused, listening to the other man speak and ramble on about what him and the kids did for the day, there was just something about the other, something about Chase that always brought a smile to his face. Maybe it was the other’s positivity and enthusiastic nature about everything, after all it seemed highly contagious, and a good type of contagious at that. After awhile Chase had asked Schneeple if he would like to come over and chill for awhile, Schneeplestein thought about it for a few moments before agreeing happily, he had nothing better to do and he honestly wanted to spend more time with Chase. “Sweet bro! I’ll be over to pick ya up soon enough!” And with that, they said goodbye, and hung up the phone.
———————————————————————————————————–Chase had took Schneeple back to his place finally, Schneeplestein looked around, not really remembering Chase’s house fully, he never had time to even really visit Chase anymore, since he was so busy with the whole, trying to save people’s lives sorta thing. “Vwow, ze place hasn’t changed, at zleast, I don’t sink so.” Chase smiled and laughed a bit, he was about to say something but was cut off when his kids entered the room. “Daddy!” They ran over, hugging Chase’s legs, looking over curiously at the doctor. “Daddy who’s that?” Chase chuckled and ruffled the kids hair “Well, dunno if ya remember, but its the doctor who saved daddy once!” The kids smiled and immediately ran over to hug Schneeplestein, thanking him for what he had done, Chase smiled gently “Do you remember they’re–” Schneeplestein chuckled and cut Chase off, knowing what he was about to ask “Vhy, of course I do! Vittle Samira and Greyson! It vould be a shame if I forgot ze childrenz namez, but, Itz nice to see ze kids ah’ happy and healthy” His smile was cheery and pleasant. ((I honestly dont remember Chase’s kids names– if they even have like any out there on tumblr, or any canon names? So Samira and Greyson it is)) Chase laughed and nodded “Ding ding ding, you are correct” The kids giggled with glee and continued to hug Schneeple for a few moments before running off to play a game of tag with each other. Chase called after them “Be careful kiddos!” They called back saying they would be, then Chase turned to Schneeple and hugged him “I missed ya bro, you’ve been really busy lately, its nice we get an opportunity to spend some time together!” Schneeple hugged him back “Vwell, I suppose… it vwouldn’t hurt to haz ze day off fo’ once.” He chuckled a little, he still didn’t like the idea of having the day off but he could make an exception, since he could get to spend time with Chase. The man quickly pulled the doctor into his office, showing him the box of teabags and smiling “Wanna do some trickshots with me doc?” Schneeplestein smiled a little “Chase, you know I’m not very good at ze trickshvotting.” Chase laughed a little and picked up a teabag “Here, how about this, I show you how to do a trickshot, then you can give me some doctor tips or something like that, sound good?” Schneeplestein’s eyes lit up “Ooh! Yes, I vould love to give you some tipz!” He sounded excited “Alvight, Alvight, you can teach me how to do ze trickshvotting” ((I’m sorry– I can’t do even a bad German impression xD)) Chase lifted the teabag up and pointed at the hole “See, what'cha gonna wanna do is get the teabag to land in the hole like this” Chase threw the teabag which missed the hole at first, he sweated a bit and turned towards Schneeplestein “…Okay, bad example. Lemme try again” He picked up another teabag and threw it, managing to get it in the hole, he smiled brightly and fist pumped “YES!” He then proceeded to dab suddenly. “Okay bro, now you try!” He handed Schneeplestein the teabag and stood back, waiting for the doctor to make the shot. Schneeple looked over towards the hole and eyed it carefully, concentrating the best he could, he finally took the shot, managing to get it in the hole first try, he gasped suddenly, being shocked, he thought it would take him forever. Chase smiled and laughed loudly, tossing off his hat and dashing around the room, then of course, dabbing again, he looked at the doctor, motioning for him to try it. “C'mon and dab!” Schneeplestein laughed and sighed, slowly trying but managing to fuck up the dab somehow. Chase giggled at the doctor, simply clapping “Close enough doc, close enough, alright, let me teach you a thing or two” Chase began to explain how to dab, and basically how to be a bro. “And this has been how to be a bro 101 with Chase Brody” He laughed a little bit, looking at Schneeple “Did'ja get all that?” Schneeplestein blinked and nodded “Yes, yes I did.” No, no he didn’t, he just BARELY understood it, but he thought he processed enough. Chase smiled and sat down, looking at the doctor “Alright, now tell me some doctor tips of yours!” He seemed a bit eager actually, he wanted to learn a few things, he honestly prayed the doctor didn’t go too overboard. Schneeplestein chuckled “Alvight, let me see… Hmm… Vhat to start off vwith? AH! I know just ze zing!~” Schneeplestein slowly began explaining one of the worst possible things he could begin with and that was surgery, he explained in very graphic details occasionally about where to make the incision and how to do it properly until Chase stopped him, looking very sick now “Okay, okay, that’s good, I think I get it” Schneeplestein simply laughed and nodded “Yes, zis type of job iz not fo’ ze faint of heart I’m afraid, in fact you haz to have a strong mind and stomach when doing an operation” Chase nodded “I can see why..” He smiled a little, now trying to change the subject so he didn’t throw up right then and there “Wanna go watch some movies with me doc? I have all kinds, even a few horror ones but… those don’t get watched too often, don’t want the kids having nightmares after all” He laughed, taking his hat off to run a hand through his hair. Schneeplestein nodded “I vouldn’t mind watching some horror, I mean if you can stomach it that is” He teased, making Chase grin “Oh, I can handle it bro.” Schneeple chuckled “Ve shall see~” Chase nodded “Your on bro, I can most certainly handle it”
———————————————————————————————————–Schneeple and Chase were huddled up on the couch now, watching the movie they had both decided on: Dark Hollows ((I was just making that up– if that’s an actual movie I will laugh) Once it got to the scariest parts, Chase was huddled closer to Schneeple suddenly, this made the doctor look down at the other who instantly flushed and pulled away “S-Sorry doc….” He mumbled, hugging a pillow from the couch, hiding his face in it. Schneeplestein chuckled a little and scootched over, wrapping his arms around the other “I told you, zat you vould not be able to handle zis, c'mere, zis iz just a simple vittle horror movie, zhese ah’ just actors.” He reassured in a hushed whisper, taking Chase’s hat off to pat the man’s head, then gently pushing it over his eyes, laughing playfully. Chase smiled and chuckled, pulling his head back up and huddling a bit closer to the doctor, he felt safer with him around, a whole lot safer, and he was just happy to be around the man who had saved him once. Schneeplestein smiled, holding the boy close, he always felt like Chase was one of his own essentially, he would always comfort him, protect him, whatever the other needed, he always thought of Chase as his little boy and this made him happy… Maybe taking the day off wasn’t such a bad idea after all… ((he’ll do it more often too now also meeeh I mean– I guess this story’s ok?? I dunno– I’m just not confident with my writing but I REALLY wanted to do something cute with Chase and Schneeplestein– so like, here’s a thing @chase-brody-protection-squad and @schneeplestein-protection-squad here y’all go, a fluffy thing between Chase and Schneeps just like I said~! Hope y’all like it ))

Last Time

 Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word count: 1541

Author’s note: when the letter is in cursive and black is because there is a flashback.

Originally posted by mylastlove-mylastsong


She was sitting on the hallway, seeing the people walking, some sad,some happy. In wich group did she belong to? The sad ones, maybe worse, she was feeling like The World was collapsing. She needed somebody by her side, she needed him, but he was lying on the hospital bed in  the room in front of her.

The only person that could make her feel better and support her, was the reason why she was  empty, scared, worried, sad, angry with the world.

Y/N’s phone started ringing, Chris was calling, he left less than an hour ago, he spent almost as much time in the hospital as Y/N.

“Hey Chris” she tried to sound fine, but that was something impossible.

“Hi, how’s he?” she could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing in the background, he was probably looking for some clothes.

“Asleep, like the last hours, God Chris I need him to wake up,if…if he doesn’t…” she couldn’t make herself to continue.

“Everything is going to be ok, Y/N, don’t worry, Sebastian will wake up, just give it time” not even him could believe his own lie.

“He doesn’t have time Chris, he’s barerly alive, I honestly don’t know if he’s gonna make it.The doctors…they said that he should have woken up three hours after the surgery,it’s been two hours since that.” Chris tried to calm her, to not make her say thoose things “I just…I just want him by my side again,you know?”

“Yeah, I know, we all want him by our side again, no more than you, that’s for sure, because after all you are his wife.”

“I’m going inside, when will you be back?” it was better with someone with her, even if that someone was not Sebastian.

“Two hours tops”

“Ok, bye” she hunged up befour Chris could speak.

She got up from the floor, with slow steps she got into the room. There he was, her husband, weaker than ever, tubs all over him, asleep, in critical state. She breathed heavily and sat on the chair beside the bed.

“Hi…” surprisingly her voice was calm “I…I don’t know if you can hear me, maybe you can and maybe you can’t and then I’m just talking to myself, to fill this room. But if you can then this words would mean something, it’s not like I’m talking about something important, I’ts just…I don’t know I just want to talk to you”

Despite being in so bad conditions, he looked paceful, more than she could ever remember.

“Look at you, you still can look handsome even at your worst” she smiled while she was talking, she wasn’t happy, it was a sad smile, the only one she could pull out at those moments.

“I don’t know if these are going to be our last moments, In case they are, I want to remember our life together, so I’m gonna tell to you our little fairy tale…”


By the time they met, Sebastian just finnished filming “Captain America: The First Avenger” and she just got her fisrt job as a graphic designer after finnishing the university.

Y/N was more than happy to leave her job at that coffe shop for the new one, she finally could work at what se most loved.

It had been a week since Sebastian was back in New York, it was 8 a.m, when he entered the coffe shop near his apartment, he was never there befour, he would usually go to Sarbucks, but that day he fancied that place, with no reason.

The place was practically empty, only a few persons inside, at the bar was just a girl attending that had the back turned to him. He aproached her.

“Sorry, miss?” she turned at the hearing of his voice, a wide smile was on her face, she usually smiled at costumers but today even more because it was her last day.

“Good morning, what would you like, sir?” that man was an amazing view for her eyes.

“Sebatian please, I’m not used to people calling me sir” he smiled back.

“So…Sebastian, what would you like?”

“I came here for a coffe, but I changed my mind the moment I saw you…” he looked at her badge “Y/N”.

She started to worry, did she do something wrong?, she always tried to make her costumers happy. Her face turned into a worried one.

“Calm down Y/N” he laughed “I do want a coffe with milk,please, but It’s also true that I changed my mind when I saw you…because you have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen” she smiled at that coment, it wasn’t the fisrt time that a costumer told her she had a beautiful smile, but it wast the first time that her cheeks started to burn at the hearing of it and also no one ever told her that she had the most beautiful smile they have ever seen.

“There it is” Sebastian said.

“I could say the same thing about yours” she could not believe what she just said.

“I think I’m gonna start comming more to this place”

“For coffe?” Y/N asked, she knew it was a stupid question.

“No…for you” Sebastian answered.

“Well… it’s my last day, so I don’t think you are gonna get much of me after today.”

“In that case, would you do me the favour of giving me your number with that coffe?” she looked at his beautiful eyes, looking to see if he was joking, but not sign of it.

“Yeah, sure”


“Next thing I know I’m in love with a dork, my dork” she took Sebastian’s hand in hers “You made my last day at work the best one, it was the first time I felt so lucky in years…and then, then you proposed to me. I never would have expected it”.


“I haven’t been here for years” Sebastian told her, they were together for three years already, and that day would be the day he proposed to her.

“Why?It’s such a beautiful place” but she didn’t got an answer.

They were in Romania, they first went to Constanza, were Sebastian was from, then to Bucarest and now they were in Caras-Severing, heading to Bigar, there was such a beautiful cascade, wich Sebastian and Y/N have only seen in pictures.

“ I have a feelig that this place is going to be my favorite” she could already hear the water fall, they were close.

“Me too” he whispered, but not for the wonderful cascade.

A little bit more of walking and they arrived to the destination, they were not the only turists.

“This is even better than the pictures” she looked around her, people taking photos, kids laughing and playing, mothers calling their attention, some looked at Sebastian and she could hear they calling him Bucky,Sebastian was keeping her in his strong arms.

“Would you believe me if I told you, that you are more beautiful than this?”

“No way” she answered smiling.

She wanted to rest her head on his chest, but he got away from her suddenly. She turned and saw him on his knees with a little velvet box on his hands. Everyone was looking at them,some taking pictures.

“Are you doing what I think you are doing?” she could not believe it, and would not believe it untill the words come out of his lips.

“Y/N Y/L, the day I met you, I dind’t know why but I wanted to go to that coffe shop, a place I never had been befour that day, and I saw you there, callig me sir, with your beautiful smile, the most beautiful smile I’ve had ever seen, the one I know you got right now even though I can’t see it because of your hands”  you laughed at his coment, and tried not to cry, of happiness of course. “ So me, going there so randomly, I know now that it was destiny. I love you more than my life Y/N, you are the only one that I want and love, the only one that I want to start a family with…Sweetheart, would you marry me?” now he was more nervious than ever, the answer, what if she said no?

“Yes, a million times yes, I will marry you Sebastian Stan” he put the beautiful ring on her finger and kissed her like if he wanted it the most. The people around them startet applauding.


“ That place is definetly my favorite one” she was crying “God Sebastian, you have made me the  happier woman ever, I love you with all my soul, you can’t even imagine how much I love you. If I could I would take your place right now without giving it a second tought” her hands went to his hair, then to his face, carresing it. 

“I know you loved…love, me too, I never doubted it, and I never will. My heart belongs to you Sebastian, I belong to you, I’m yours forever” and with that she gave him the last kiss.


Chris went running in the hospital , Sebastian’s room was empty, he looked for Y/N, and found her in the room’s bathroom, craying on the floor.

“Y/N” Chris said softly. She just stared at him with hopless eyes , her face was palid, she just denied. Chris ran and sit beside her, keeping her in his arms, trying to give her comfort. “ How long?” he asked.

“No…no more than twenty minutes ago” she could barerly speak, and he could not stop the tears from falling.


Masterlist

Still Here (Reid x Reader)

Title: Still Here

Rating: T

Word Count: 1202

Summary: An unsub pushes on your buttons during an interrogation, but Spencer seems to be taking it harder than you.

Warnings: mentions of abuse, self harm, suicidal actions- no graphic descriptions though

A/N: if you or someone you know is dealing with abuse please call the police x stay safe everyone, im here if you need to chat xo

•••


“Tell me where she is.”

Your voice was low as you leaned across the interrogation table, getting closer to your suspect. Byron Stevenson was obviously guilty for murdering and kidnapping four men. While the other members of the BAU investigated his home and other properties, you, Rossi, and Spencer stayed to interrogate him. You had volunteered to take charge of the interrogation.

However, as he smirked devilishly at you, you felt regret from the decision. “Where’s my deal?” You forced an airy laugh, crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back. “Deal? You must of misheard me. You tell me where she is, or I throw your ass in prison right now for the other two charges. You give me the information I need, and I’ll see what I can do about a ‘deal’.”

He laughed and copied your position, tilting his chair back slightly. “Ok, agent. But first, let me ask you something.” Your brows quirked up in response. You had wasted too much breath on the scumbag.

“How did it feel when your daddy hit you?”

Spencer scowled as he watched the exchange behind glass, glancing at Rossi whose brow was furrowed in confusion. He made a move to get to the door, ready to intervene, when Rossi put his hand up. “She’ll be okay,” he assured, stopped fm saying more by the unsub’s voice. “When he pulled your hair, slapped your cheeks, either ones, if you know what I mean,” Byron said with a tight lipped smirk.

“Is that why you wear those long sleeves, even though it’s 90 degrees outside? Because little fifteen year-old Y/N went on a spree with a blade? Or maybe because she still does.” Your straight face never faltered even though your chest burned with anger.

“All because daddy hurt you?” “Did your father hurt you?” you retorted. “Is that why you killed him first?” His face went flush as his denied your accusations. “Mr. Stevenson was an alcoholic, and since you know so much about abuse, what am I supposed to think?”

“Shut up,” he murmured. “Isn’t that what he told you, so you’d keep quiet? Is that why you shot him? I sure as hell hated my father after that!” you raised your voice, hoping to get a rise out of him. “He deserved what he got, right?” you yelled, causing Byron to stand up. His palms landed against the against the steel table top with a loud “bam!”. “Damn right he deserved it!” he screamed back at you.

“Woo!” you clapped sarcastically, standing up and circling the table. “We’re really talking now,” you whispered into his ear, patting his back with force. “So what did you do to make him pay? Because I would’ve been pissed at him!” you continued. “I killed him! I killed him,” he whimpered the last part, sinking to his knees. Sobs wracked his body as you joined him on his level.

“Do you regret it? All those other people?” He nodded. “You can still save one if you tell me where she is,” you whispered. “No I can’t.” His voice was hoarse. “What do you mean..?” “She’s nailed to one of the trunks in the forest,” he confessed, crying even harder than before. You wasted no time standing up and storming out the room. “Call Hotch, the body’s nailed to a tree in the forest,” you sighed to Rossi, who nodded before leaving the area.

It was silent as you sat down on a nearby bench, burying your face in your hands. “You did well,” Spencer spoke up, sitting down beside you. “Made a fool of myself trying to get that confession,” you laughed while rubbing your temples. “I didn’t think so,” he hummed. “So, um, your father…” he trailed off, avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s all in the past,” you dismissed, self consciously pulling your sleeves over your hands. “That’s why you always wear long sleeves?” You nodded, looking away from his now direct gaze. “Can you please talk to me? I want to understand.” Your breath hitched as he laid his hand atop of yours.

“When I was a kid, my mom left me and my dad. She got tired of being abused I guess. But for some reason I’ve never understood, she left me there. Me, a nine year old girl, alone with this abusive grown man. No one ever found out and I never told. When I was about fifteen, ironically enough, I self harmed. Hell, I tried to kill myself twice. It never worked.” You glanced up to gauge his reaction, frowning at his glossy eyes.

“It lasted for years. I went to college as far from there as I could get, after making one more attempt, that is. I was so scared for so long that he would come get me. I stayed with friends for a long time, too afraid to be on my own.” Spencer looked more hurt then you felt. His lip pouted slightly and a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks.

“But hey, it’s all better now, right?” you said quickly, smiling at him. “I found you guys, I found a family of my own,” you kept your voice quiet, afraid it would break if it got any louder. “Y/N? Do you still… hurt yourself?” he asked. “No, I don’t see any reason to,” you answered honestly, pulling up your sleeves to reveal a few pale, raised lines. “See? Only scars,” you reassured.

Spencer stared at you for a while, leaning in to embrace you. His arms held you tightly as he buried his face in your shoulder. You hugged him back, whispering soothing phrases into his ear. “It’s ok, Spence, it’s ok.” “Don’t ever leave me,"he pleaded. He felt absolutely pathetic as you comforted him. He wasn’t the one who had been abused, or tried to kill himself on multiple occasions, and yet here he was, shedding tears.

"Spence, I need you to look at me,” you said finally, pulling away just enough to face him. His eyes met yours as he complied. “I’m ok now. I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry. I love you, ok? You know that, don’t you, genius?” you teased, wiping under his eyes with your thumb. He cracked a smile, raising a hand to secure yours on his cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m glad,” you half-joked, glancing between his eyes and the way his hand pressed yours to his cheek. “When we get home, do you think you could maybe come over? I just-” “You don’t owe me an explanation,” you smiled. “I’ll be there, Spence. I’ll always be there.” He smiled widely at your response, leaning forward to kiss your cheek hastily. “O-oh my- I’m so sorry, that was really unprofessional I’m-” you cut him off by pressing your lips to his softly.

Your only intention was to help him calm down, but as his lips moved in sync with yours, you couldn’t help but smile. His face was flushed as you pulled away. “That, was unprofessional,” you joked, taking his hand in yours. “C'mon, we’ll finish this later. Now we have a murder investigation to wrap up.”

Behind The Scenes 3 (21/21)

Author’s note: I just had to post this already. I am getting so much anxiety over this. I really want to know what you all think. Honestly, any feedback or reaction i get helps me filter my plans for bts 4 and talking to you all ready gets my mind flowing. I am really going to need some feedback because idk. Shit goes down. Sorry for any errors.

Genre: angsty/ fluff?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? (Jungkook) [HONESTLY I AM ALLOWED TO USE FLUFF ANYMORE WHEN TALKING ABOUT JUNGKOOKG?!?!?!?!?!?!]

Word Count: 4466

City: Seoul 2nd concert

Summary: Honesty, some shit goes down. that is the only way i can summarize this.

WARNINGS: a bit of physical abuse, kinda graphic descriptions of torture, murder

Other parts: HERE

This is my GIF. I made it based off of this scenario series.


You were woken up in a rather aggressive fashion. With a kick to the ribs you knew exactly who woke you up. You looked up at Rap monster who was staring down at you. “Make breakfast” he ordered.

With you left arm gripping your soon to be bruised ribs, you used your other arm to get yourself off the floor and shuffled to the kitchen. Like before the tour, you began preparing the ingredients as Rap monster’s eyes followed your every move.

You didn’t turn away from the food as you heard one of the bedroom doors open followed by the sound of someone dragging their feet. The steps got closer until you felt a presence behind you, his body gently coming up against yours. A hand reached past you and grabbed the coffee grounds off the shelf above you. “Morning.” A groggy voice whispered as quietly as possible and instantly you hated yourself

“It looks like someone doesn’t know the concept of personal space.” Rap monster said casually.

As he got a pot of coffee set up, Suga said. “Yeah and it looks like someone still doesn’t know the concept of minding their own fucking business!” He grumbled harshly as his eyes glided over to Rap monster.

To your surprise, Rap monster stayed calm. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. “What are you doing up this early?” Rap monster asked.

Suga leaned back on the counter, still close to you. “Going to the studio.” Still there was a hint of attitude in his voice.

“Are you really?” Rap monster mumbled. “…How are things coming along?”

“Things are coming along and that’s what matters!” Suga spat

Rap monster’s face remained expressionless. “Better be done on time, we got the choreo to work on.”

“If you stop stressing me over it then maybe I will finish sooner!” Suga raised his voice some more.

“Yoongi stop!” you tried to whisper.

Suddenly Rap monster slammed his phone on the table. “You better watch the fucking mouth of yours or else!”

“What we talkin’ about?” Jungkook’s muffled voice asked.

You all turned to the hall to see Jungkook with his signature bedhead look and his mouth foaming over with toothpaste as he brushed his teeth.

“Nothing.” Suga griped, he was already annoyed by the maknae’s presence.

Jungkook hobbled around the kitchen until he reached the sink and spit out the tooth paste that collected in his mouth.

“Jungkook are you serious?!?” you scowled over the fact that he almost spat on the food that you were rinsing in the sink.

“What?!? A sink is a sink! It’s not like I got it on the food.” he reasoned.

Suga poured coffee into his mug. “Dude! You have a fucking bathroom in your fucking room! What are you even fucking doing here?!?”

“What does it look like?!? I’m brushing my teeth! You stupid di-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Rap monster shouted. “Jungkook go to your fucking bathroom, Y/n that ass of yours better have my food done in the next ten minutes and Yoongi, plain shut the fuck up!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and went back to his room while Suga took a sip of his coffee.

Thankfully, everyone else woke up and gathered themselves into the kitchen without any other confrontations. After everyone had breakfast, you did your duty of gathering the plates and that was when Rap monster spoke up again. “Ok guys, for today, we all have to be ready to go at 5… Y/n!”

In a panic, you quickly tossed the plates onto the counter. “Y-yes?”

“You are coming along tonight. Wear something nice because there is going to be cameras everywhere.”

You nodded obediently.

“There is some business I have to attend to right now. Tae is coming with me… so is Jungkook, so Jin, you are in charge of y/n.”

Jungkook shot up in his seat. “What? I’m going?!?” he was almost excited.

Jin rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Rap monster turned to Jungkook. “If you aren’t ready in the next three minutes you won’t get another chance.”

Jungkook gave you a quickly side glance before he jumped out of his seat and sped off to his room. Within literally two minutes he came back out all ready to go.

“Let’s go.” Rap monster said.

Jungkook trailed behind the other two avoiding your eyes.

“Looks like no date for Y/n” Suga said with almost cheerfully. “Ya, come with me to the studio?” He asked, helping you gather the dishes.

“Oh! That’ll be perfect!” Jimin chimed. “That is a great way to keep you out of the dorm!”

Suga raised an eyebrow at Jimin, pretending not to know why Jimin was so excited. “Yeah… Well, its settled, you’re coming with me” he smiled.

“No she isn’t!” Jin stated. “You all heard Namjoon, she isn’t leaving.”

“He didn’t say that. He just said that you had to keep an eye on her. She’ll be with Yoongi, so she will be fine.” Jimin reasoned.

“Nope, not gonna happen.”

“We’ll be back in time.” Suga argued.

“No.”

“Just let her go man!” Jhope whined.

“No!”

Jimin sighed. “C’mon dude! Fuck, I’ll pack all your shit if you let Y/n go out!” He proposed.

Jin had enough and pounced on Jimin, “I said no! I am no risking losing my time with Jinjin over her!”

“Ok ok fine.” Jimin squeaked

Jin’s eyes landed on you. “Y/n, you don’t take one fucking step out of this dorm!”

“Don’t worry I won’t.” You peeped

Jin let out a groan of frustration as his eyes scanned the four of you. “For the rest of you, I don’t care what you do, just be back on time. Now, if you need me, I’ll be in my room packing for tomorrow.” He said before he disappeared down the hall.

“Ugh, well I guess I’ll just go then.” Suga groaned. “Bye guys.” He said as he gave your shoulder a squeeze.

“Wait up! I want to go too!” Jhope screamed behind him. “Bye y/n, bye Jimin!”

You were sad he was going to leave too, but you noticed he left without going back for his pills, so it made sense to you why he was leaving.

“Well it looks like my surprised is ruined.” Jimin pouted from his seat at the table.

And like that you were alone with Jimin. You couldn’t get yourself to look in his direction. Just hearing how disappointed he was over something meant for you made you feel horrible. But you had to fake something. You had to keep up what you could until you could break up with Jungkook and be guilt free (or at less guilt free as your conscious would allow you). “Well what was the surprise?” you asked as casually as possible.

“It was-“ He jumped up coming to a realization. “You know what? You stay here and like clean or whatever! Don’t come to our room for the next hour!” he said as he ran back to your room.

JK POV

Jungkook followed Rap monster and V into the abandoned building he had been into only once before. His inside flipped because he knew there was only one reason they were here, there was only one purpose that Rap monster had such a place.

Jungkook stood alongside his two hyungs, they were now in the basement of the building that reeked of blood and other unmentionable odors, staring at a man tied to a chair.

The man in the chair had to have been tied up for a while, the dried blood on him made it obvious. Based on his shallow breathing there had to have been something stuffed in his mouth that was kept in place by the crusty band of duct tape that was wrapped around his face. The man was blindfolded, but “lucky” for him, his ears weren’t covered.

Jungkook knew the man was only quiet so that he could hear where they were and what they were saying.  Following Rap monster’s moves, Jungkook moved closer to the tied man and he could see that the damaged done was worse than he thought.

There were cigar burns that accented the gash in his ribs. There was bruising around his neck. Patches of his hair had been pulled out and pieces of his ear had been torn off. There were lashes to his hands that were still fresh and there was blood dripping to the floor. Lastly, was missing both pinkies and the index finger on his left hand.

“Why do people have to be so stubborn?” Jungkook thought as he looked at the man with pity. “I thought this was going to be a deal, not this crap!” He hissed at V

“Me too! He never does shit like this before concerts, you know that!”

Rap monster broke from the trio and went right up to the tortured man. He went up close, taking a good look and what was left behind for him. “Well, it looks like my boys had some fun while I was gone.” He smirked

The man’s hands trembled feeling the demonic presence near him. Muffles came from him and without warning, Rap monster ripped the duct tape off his face. A scream escaped the man before a bloodied sock rolled out of his mouth, revealing a set of broken teeth. He gasped for air as he said, “L-let m-m-me go. P-please!”

“I would if I could buddy, but the thing is, I still don’t have any of the money you owe me.” Rap monster said playfully. “You know, it really hurts being cheated like this and by my favorite customer no less.” The more playful his tone, the more terrifying he was.

Rap monster moved away from him and his long legs carried him to the back of the room where a wall of weapons waited for him. His fingers danced over the death toys before picking up and loading his favorite revolver.

“I-I-I t-told them! I-I don’t have the money yet!” the man cried

With the gun in his hand, rap monster went back up to the tied man. He crouched to be at eye level with him, even though the other was still blindfolded. “Why do you keep lying to me Nam?” he asked softly

“I’m not-“

The butt of the revolver slammed into Nam’s temple. “I know you are fucking lying!” He grabbed Nam but what used to be a shirt and began shaking him violently. “You think I haven’t kept my eye on you?!? Did you think I wasn’t going to notice the new car or your daughter’s plastic surgery or that house in Busan?!?” He lifted Nam’s face up and shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth. All Nam could do was gag as tears streamed from under his blindfold.

“I gave you three months to pay me back you fat fuck! I am going to get my money’s worth one way or another!” Rap monster’s head whipped around to V. “Tae, go get Nam’s surprise from the other room.”

Jungkook stood anxiously as V did as told and left his side. In the meantime, there was only gagging sounds that filled the room as Rap monster stared down at him.

Eventually the door busted open and V walked in dragging blindfolded girl behind him. Like the man was before, the girl also had her mouth taped over. The parts of her exposed face were bruised and cut up, but her school uniform was still intact. V brought her up a few feet in front of Nam and waited for his next order.

“Tae, take the tape off.”

As carefully as he could, V took the tape off the distraught girl.

“Where am I? Where-“

“Jisu?!? Jisu, sweetheart?!?” Nam recognized the teen’s voice immediately.

“Dad?!? Dad where am I?!? Daddy, they said they had you, that all I had to do was come pick you up, but then they took me!” she whimpered. She tried to break from V’s grasp and follow the direction of her father’s voice, but it was no use.

Jungkook could see how torn V was over this. His face was blank for the most part, but it was his eyes that held the pain.

Rap monster lifted Nam’s blindfold off and allowed him to get a glimpse of his daughter. “Jisu! Oh Jisu! Don’t worry! I will take-“

The blast of the revolver boomed through the basement and the man watched in horror as his daughter’s now limp body feel to the ground.

“Ji… Jisu… Jisu!” He already couldn’t control his breathing. “Jisu! No! My baby! Jisu!” He screamed so hard that his voice was giving out. “No! You bastard! You fucking bastard!” his attempts to run to his daughter failed on the count that he was still tied to the chair that was bolted to the floor.

Rap monster made his way back to Jungkook as Nam expressed his emotions in the form of sobs, shouts, and curses.

“Now maknae” Rap monster said with a twisted sparkle in his eye. “Be a good boy and finish him off for me. If you do, you keep the bitch’s car, if not, then you’ll definitely regret it.” He placed the warm revolver in his limp hand.

Jungkook forgot what it was like to hold a gun. It was such a foreign concept to him now. Best and worst of all, he forgot what it was like to kill a person. He didn’t know how he did it before, to be so cold, because now he was scared. He wanted to cry as badly as the man in the chair. He just wanted to go back to y/n and feel normal again.

Rap monster moved over to V “Remind the others that I wanted the Busan house burnt to the ground, I don’t care who is inside. I’ll wait for you guys in the van.” he said before he walked out of the room.

Jungkook turned over to his friend, but V was already walking out the room to follow through with his orders. The gun was heavy in his hands, he barely had the strength to keep his fingers laced around it.

“Please don’t kill me.” The man wept. “I’ll get the money, just please don’t do this.”

Jungkook knew better than to say anything to him. Exchanging words would make this much harder.

“He deserves this.” Jungkook thought. “This guy knew what he was getting into. He knew the type of person he was dealing with. If he really cared about his family, he would have paid Namjoon back.” Jungkook told himself what he could to follow through with all this. His arm raised itself and aimed the gun at his defenseless target. The man’s pleads became more desperate, but he blocked the voice out. “Look at him. He is on the verge of death anyway. There was no way he can live normally after this.” His thumb cocked the gun and a new bullet was ready to go. “I don’t want to do this… but it is either him or me.” He pulled the trigger and again the echo boomed through the room. “and I choose me.”

-

He was in a daze as he drove back to the dorm in the car of a dead girl. What he had done didn’t feel right. It was weird, it wasn’t the first time he did something like that, neither was it V’s, but now things were different for some reason. He was feeling a rainbow of depressed emotions all at once, but also nothing at all at the same time. “Shock” was probably the only word to describe it, but then again, he didn’t feel that was the right word.

Now parked in front of the dorm, he looked down at the small dark box that sat in his palm. It was a new task that Rap monster suddenly assigned him and he had no idea why. He knew that what was inside the tiny box was going to change everything, and he couldn’t get himself to think of his leader’s motives behind it. This task wasn’t going to be a hard one in theory, but in a few hours it would prove otherwise. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had day dreamed of doing this before, but the fact that Rap monster was going to make him do it, and tonight no less, was the most confusing part.

As soon as he saw V escorting Y/n to the car, he shoved the small box into his jacket pocket and the turned the heater up some more. Just seeing y/n innocently waddle her way to the car lightened his spirit and he hoped that she would be able to get his mind off everything.

She had a subtle frown on her face as she buckled herself in.

“Hey baby.” He leaned in for a kiss, but her gloved and stopped him.

“We are right behind the van, they might see us.” she said blankly.

“Oh yeah, that’s true.” He saw the group van pull out. He used one hand to drive and his other reached for y/n’s hand.

As soon as she felt his fingers, she pulled her hand away. “There is ice on the road, use both hands to drive.”

“You make a good point.” He mumbled.

The air between them was stale, he sensed it. “Is she mad cuz we didn’t go out?… Did Tae tell her what happened, what I did?!? Is she upset over last night? She is mad at me for that. I know it for sure. I’m a piece of shit. I scared her…”

Y/n kept her eyes looking out the window and she had her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

He tried to think of a subtle way to bring up the topic of what happened the night before. “Sorry, I bailed on you this morning… I kinda couldn’t say no-

“Where did this car come from?” she interrupted.

At her question, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of panic, the events from earlier flooded into his mind again. “Uh, what?”

“This car, where did it come from?” Her voice was stern and unnerving and he felt even worse.

“Oh, uh, Namjoon received it as payment…” he knew better that to tell her anything else.

“So why are we driving around in it?”

“Beeeeeecause, um, he said he wanted us to look more couple like.”

“This shit is stupid! There is no point for me to tag along. What does he have up that sleeve of his that I have to come? He is just gonna keep me locked up backstage, won’t he? I am better off being locked in my room!”

He knew exactly why she was coming but he decided to avoid that question. “Ya jagi, don’t talk like that. I prefer you be with us. I don’t like you being locked in the room.” he kept his voice soft as he spoke. She probably had a million theories going through her mind right now. Again, he reached for her hand, but again, she pulled away.

“Shut up, I could be fucking sleeping right now! And I wouldn’t be sleepy if someone hadn’t taken me out of my room!”

“I just missed you, that’s all!”

She scoffed at him, “Yeah right!”

“What? It’s true!”

“Whatever!”

“It is! Fuck it, I just won’t do it anymore!”

“Good!”

His heart sank. Now that they were back in Seoul and they would soon get started on another hectic schedule, nights would have been their only time together.

Y/N POV

Your day had been filled with you being stuck in the dorm with Jimin. His surprise to you had been moving all your clothes into his closet and your shoes onto his shoe rack so that you didn’t have to live out of your trash bags. Of course, the task proved too tiring for him, and you ended up helping him halfway through. It was a heartfelt gesture indeed and it was something that only made you feel like a worse human being.

Most of his words to you during the task went in one ear and out the other as you thought of ways to break things off with Jungkook. You just needed a reason why. Jungkook was a good guy, actually a great guy, and the last thing you wanted to do was feel like more of an asshole by cutting things off so suddenly.

By the time the rest of the guys arrived you were both mentally and physically exhausted. The last thing you wanted to do was go anywhere.

The cold was no help to your attitude and you couldn’t help but be somewhat of a bitch to Jungkook, who was just as clingy as the night before. Part of you didn’t really feel bad about being so harsh with him though. You no longer felt comfortable with him in “that way”. You literally needed some space from him or you were going to explode.

Once backstage, you nestled into the couch and before you knew it, you were asleep.

-

Your beautiful sleep was once again interrupted. It was an action you were beginning to despise. You opened your eyes and were rather surprised to see a sweaty V throwing an exhausted smile at you.

“What now?” you whined

“Come with me, we have to see Jungkook remember?”

“See Jungkook? Why?”

“He didn’t tell you what was going to happen?”

“Tell me what?” you were too tired to keep track of what he was saying.

V’s smile fell and he grew more serious.“… Well, just come with me, I don’t really have time to explain.”

“Ugh, fine.” You groaned wanting to get whatever you had to do over with.

You groggily followed V down the narrow hall was, the more you walked, the closer you felt to the stage. You felt the roar of the crowd and could barely make out Jungkook’s projected voice. “Tae… Where are we going?” you asked nervously.

“Like I said I have no time to explain.” He circled around you and put his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you forward. You grew anxious as he guided you towards the stage.

Your heart was pounding and thankfully he stopped you just a few feet away from the edge of the stage. You could see the six other boys, too much in a panic to focus on what they were saying to the sea of fans.

V appeared in front of you. He looked a bit nervous and that didn’t make you feel any better. “I’m sorry about this whole sudden thing y/n, just remember, all you have to do is say yes.” He advised.

“Say yes? Say yes to what?!?”

He didn’t answer you, he only gave a pitiful half-ass smile. He bent his microphone back in place and stepped onto the stage with a fake smile plastered on. “Oh Jungkookie! I brought her!” he said playfully as he rejoined the rest of the boys.

“Yes?!? Ah! Ok!” Jungkook chuckled.

You saw the tall boy running up to you with an anxious smile. “Hey Jagi” he said softly, his voice echoing on the speakers.

“Jungkook, what is going on?”

His hands gently grabbed yours and he pulled you close, “I need you to just come with me really quick.”

You quickly retracted your arms to your chest. “Where?!? Why?!?” Your eyes flew to the stage already having your suspicions.

He pushed the microphone away from his mouth. “Baby, it’s okay, just come with me.”

“No!” you shook your head at him. You could feel your lip quivering

His hand gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze “C’mon jagi, just really quick! You got this! Just trust me!”

Despite your better judgement, you let him take your hand and slowly take you to the stage. As soon as part of your leg was exposed to the crowd, they went into a frenzy. You wanted to run to the safety of the crew area, but Jungkook kept you from doing so.

Soon you saw an ocean of light sticks. The crowd roared as you made your appearance and you couldn’t help but feel like hell. Your heart was pounding, you couldn’t get ahold of your breathing and Jungkook was forced to walk slowly as you shuffled behind him. As you walked by them, each member had a fake smile stuck on their face.

Eventually Jungkook brought you to the center of the stage where your fingers dug into his coat sleeve and you half tried to hide yourself behind him

“So, uh” Jungkook began, his microphone back in place. “Like I was saying, this girl right here is someone that means so much to me…” The crowd roared again with a mix of cheers and boos. “And well, um…” he mumbled as he pried your hands off him and placed you by his side. “As of recently, I have made a decision… a kinda big one actually…” he said under his breath as his hand rummages through his coat pockets.

Instantly the crowd became quiet.

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief when his hand found whatever it was looking for. “So, uh, jagi?” Again, his hands found yours and your body automatically faced him. It was not at all comforting that he looked just as nervous as you felt. “So, while you were backstage, there was something I was telling ARMY… I was telling them that wee have been together for over tow years already, happy years at that. You have been through alot with, and, uh, i just” He took a deep breath. “I-I… I was just telling them how much you mean to me and how much I love you and-… I wanted to formally introduce you and well, I was hoping that, uh, that…”

Your body froze as you saw him slowly move down to one knee.

“I was hoping to introduce you as my future wife…” Immediately shrilling screams filled the stadium and Jungkook pulled a small black box out of his coat. “Y/f/n Y/l/n, I am absolutely head over heels in love with you and I can’t picture my future without you.” His trembling fingers opened the box to expose a huge diamond on a gold ring. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, everything just stopped. You could feel yourself leave your body somehow, in a way that was indescribable.

There was a look of shock on you that never seemed to fade. Your trembling hands covered your mouth and tears began to pour from your eyes. One thing you knew that no one else did was that those were anything but tears of joy. All you could get yourself to do was slowly nod your head. Before you knew it, Jungkook was sliding the ring on your finger, his arms snaked around you and he was spinning you with glee.

Your vision was blurred and you were dizzy. His lips found yours and you forced yourself to kiss back. Six bodies swarmed around the two of you and the crowd was at an even louder of cheers and incoherent screams and that’s when you knew, that was when you sensed it deep down that you were now stuck indefinitely.


91,000 words and 192 pages later, BTS 3 is done! WOW OKAY! So, what did you guys think of this???? Please let me know what you all think and of you have any ideas of what could possibly happen in BTS 4. And don’t ever be afraid to ask any questions about the series.

Also when it comes to bts 4, i am going to be posting updates. All my bts 4 updates are going to be tagged #behind the scenes#bts4 and #behindthescenes4. I really don’t want you all in the dark because i do know that it will take a long time to write and i want you all to know that i am not going to forget about the story.

For those of you who recently caught up to Behind The Scenes and for those of you that ave been following up with all this horrible rollercoaster, thank you so much

anonymous asked:

Hello! I'm so sorry for asking such a basic thing, but... could I ask how you make gifs? The whole process, starting from downloading the episode, torrenting or whatever, etc... I can't even do that much so no matter how many tutorials I read or watch, I can't even open it in Photoshop or download it correctly. >.< Thank you!

Hiya!! No no don’t be sorry!! It took me a while to figure it out too when I first got started so I’m happy to help you! I will mention that I have a pc, not a mac, so I can only show you what I have. Also I’m super sorry for this late reply!

Tutorial: How To Make A Gif (Extremely Detailed Version)

Difficulty: Easy
Time Allocation: ~1 hour
No Prior Understanding Required

What You Will Need:

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