“Mate what do you have planned for tonight? We all were thinking about going out later.” Jack said kicking Joe with his foot who was sat at the end of the couch.
“Um, Y/N’s coming over to help me film. Not sure how long that will be.” Joe replied, his focus still on the game he was currently playing.
“You two hang out a lot, mate. OH C’MON!!” Mikey yelled as Joe scored another goal just as the game ended.
“She’s a good friend. I can’t hangout with my friends?” Joe asked passing Jack the controller.
“Buddy thats not what I meant” Mikey said before starting a new game, completely forgetting the conversation with Joe.
A few hours had passed and Joe had managed to get Jack and Mikey off of his couch and out the door, on one condition; he go out with them that night.
‘Hey love, the boys want to go out tonight, you in?’ Joe sent the text off to his girlfriend after jumping out of the shower.
‘No thats alright, still need help filming?’
‘See you soon xx’
Joe smiled as he read her texts. Y/N wasn’t like many girls, only went out a handful of times and that was when the boys forced her to go out. She was sweet, kind and just a genuine friend and that was why Joe fell for her.
She’d be there for all the boys, especially Joe, when either of them could sleep that night or just wanted someone to talk to.
One night, a quest to fall asleep ending in spilling secrets of bottled up feelings for one another which led to a secret relationship between them, neither of them knowing how to tell the boys, so they didn’t.
Their relationship was still new, only a couple of months, and they weren’t done testing the waters yet and didn’t want to draw attention to something that wasn’t even there.
Except there was something there for Joe, something he’s never felt with any other girl he’s been with.
“Hey love!” Joe greeted his girlfriend at the door with a quick kiss.
“Hi” She said kissing him back “So what time are you going out?”
“Um around 9 I think”
“Good, than that gives us plenty of time” She said wrapping her arms around his torso, kissing his lips once again.
“Plenty time for what?” Joe asked smirking down at her.
“To film your video” She said pulling away and disappearing into his flat.
“Have you finished yet?” Y/N said walking over to the couch where Joe had been editing.
“Yes, just creating the thumbnail.” He said giving her a quick smile before returning his work.
Y/N sat down next to him, her feet tucked closely into her body, her head resting on his shoulder. She watched him work away, photoshopping words onto the thumbnail card and add it to the upload.
“There, all done.” Joe said closing his laptop and putting it on the coffee table. “Now I can spend the rest of the night with you”
“You mean the boys” She said lifting her head from his shoulder.
“Right but until then, I’m all yours” He said pulling her into a kiss.
The kiss quickly deepened after Joe pulled Y/N onto his lap, his hands quick to lift her shirt up over her head and tossing it to the floor. His lips moved from her lips do to the valley of her breasts where he sucked harshly, leaving his mark on her in place only he could see.
Y/N on the other hand liked to show off her work, finding it highly amusing to see the boys so oblivious to their relationship thinking the marks came from some girl at a club and reading the comments on Joe’s blog speculating his relationship status.
She quickly took change in moving her own lips to her favorite part on Joe’s neck, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair as she flicked her tongue over her recently made mark.
They brought their lips back together, Joe letting out a small moan as she began rocking her hips back and forth against his crotch.
“Y/N” Joe moaned out as he felt himself grow harder underneath her.
He moved his hands under her bum, picking her pick and moving to the room where they had just filmed his video. Joe quickly removed his shirt before crawling on top of her and reconnecting their lips.
“Well hey guys,” A distance voice called out of the door frame.
Joe glanced over his shoulder to find his mates standing in the hallways, different expressions on their faces but with a unanimous sense of confusion. All eyes moved from Joe to the body he was hovering over then back to Joe.
“Well we’ll leave you two to it then” Jack said closing the door as he and the other boys turned away.
Y/N let out a small giggle as she pushed Joe off of her and picking up his shirt from the floor and pulling it on.
“Well at least they know.” She said taking his hand after he got off the bed, letting him lead her out of the room.
“Well that was quick.” Conor said once he saw the two of you emerge through the doors.
“When the hell did this happen?” Josh asked.
“A couple months ago” Joe answered, catching Y/N’s shirt that was tossed his way.
“So she’s the one?” Oli asked.
“What?” Joe quickly, letting go of Y/N’h hand.
“The hickeys mate, she’s the one who gives them to you.” Oli clarified pointing to Joe’s neck, giving him a weird expression.
“Oh, um yeah. Yeah she is.”
“Nice work Y/N, didn’t think you were the type” Jack said giving her a smirk.
“Funny” She said taking her shirt from Joe and leaving the room to change.
“So mate…” Caspar started, “Y/N huh.”
“Yeah it just sorta happened.” Joe said glancing over to the bathroom.
“Look guys he’s in love!”
“What?! No I’m not” Joe snapped his head back to the boys.
“No you’re not what?” Y/N asked as she walked out of the bathroom, tossing Joe his own shirt.
“He’s not going out with us tonight, he’s all your Y/N” Caspar said winking over at Joe.
“No it’s fine, you can go out with them tonight. I don’t mind” She said directing her words towards Joe.
“Honestly Y/N, theres no point. He’s got you now, he doesn’t need to pull some girl in a club tonight.” Jack said.
“Mate you just want one less competition” Mikey said hitting Jacks arm.
“Maybe so, my hearts a bit in pieces knowing that Y/N is no longer available.” He said sending you a pout.
“Sorry mate” Joe said throwing an arm around your shoulder.
“Alright, we’ll leave you two alone. I need a drink!” Conor said standing up, prompting the rest of the boys to follow suit. “See you later.”
Daily Anon said: “Svt reaction-he thinks you’re cheating?” (I’ll do this for the hip-hop unit)
Before dating you, he made sure that all his boys loved you. And they did. You spent much of your time with all of them or groups of them while other units were busy, they treated you with as much respect as they did Seungcheol. Maybe it was their idolization of you that drew many of them to sometimes prefer to hang out with you on their own, and that was the case with baby Dino. He loved you and saw you as an older sibling figure. He came to you for advice and reassurance, more often than he did S.coups. He claimed it was because the opinion of other people was different to that of his hyung’s. S.coups, thinking nothing of it, took some time to really notice how much and how highly Dino spoke of you. It bothered him particularly when you both ditched him to hang out with each other. And it wasn’t a one time thing, it happened over a handful of times. There had to be something happening, right?
You walked into your apartment after a day with Dino, after having dropped him off at the dorms. You sighed contentedly, happy with the eventful day. Your peace was disturbed though, by Seungcheol calling your name.
“Shit! Cheol you scared me.”
“We need to talk.”
“What’s going on with you and Chan?”
You’d notice that he was jealous immediately. In disbelief, you’d ask, “you don’t think I’m cheating on you with him, right?” His silence was like a nod to you. After giving a slight laugh, you’d say, “babe, Chan is like my little brother. He misses his family as I’m an older sibling figure to him, I comfort him. There’s nothing going on besides just some bonding.” After kissing his cheeks and reassuring him once more, he’d sigh and bury his head in your neck.
“Oh jagi, I’m sorry for getting jealous. I hadn’t thought about how much you mean to Chan; you’re only looking out for him. Thank you.”
He wasn’t one to pay attention to the media, he knew very well how toxic it could be. But on a gloomy day off, with you at work, he had nothing to do. Everyone was busy catching up on sleep or just enjoying the weather outside with a cup of coffee in hand. Wonwoo had decided to stay home and wait for you to come over after your day. Turning on the TV, he’d be flipping through the channels until he heard a hint of your name being mentioned. He’d immediately go back and find himself watching a gossip channel. Confused, he’d intently listen. It didn’t take long for a picture of you lip-locking with another idol to stand before him. His heart would sink, disbelief in his veins.
“Boys! I’m here!” You yelled into the dorms, only to be met with multiple worried eyes. “What’s wrong?” You asked. “Wonwoo thinks you’re cheating on him..” Jun would get straight to the point. “What?” You exclaimed. “We know you never would, but Wonwoo refuses to believe us.” Jeonghan added. “Is he still here?” You began running to his room. None of them answered you as you tried to open the door. It was locked. “..Wonwoo?” You called. “Go away.” He bit back. You were interrupted by Seungcheol who handed you a key. You nodded at him in gratitude and slowly turned the handle. Opening the door felt suspenseful, but the sight that greeted you was a distraught Wonwoo. “Baby..” You proceeded with caution. “I can’t believe you.” He whispered. “I can’t believe you believe them!” You yelled, suddenly angered by his distrust. “There was pictures of you kissing someone that isn’t me, (Y/N)!” He looked you dead in the eyes, only to see that you were on the verge of tears. “There is such a thing as photoshop, Wonwoo! Do you not trust me?” You murmured after a minute of silence. It took him a few moments, but he answered. The sincerity and hurt in your eyes making him look away. “I can’t believe I fell for their trap..” He ran to you and pulled you to him.
He called you. Once. Twice. Thrice. So many more times, but he kept being directed back to voicemail. He was getting ready to go out and look for you, when you walked through the doors laughing at who knows what. But you weren’t alone. Minghao was laughing with you. You’d catch Mingyu’s eyes and obliviously shout, “Babe!” Only to have Mingyu shake his head at you and walk away. Following him into the kitchen, you’d call once again, “Babe?”
“If you wanted to be with Minghao so badly, why didn’t you tell me? You don’t have to cheat on me with one of my brothers to prove a point, (Y/N)..” His furious eyes would look to you. “Cheat on you?! Mingyu, I’d never do such a thing!” You yelled, taken aback. “Then why were you with Minghao? I called you so many times, and not once did you think to answer me!” He exclaimed. “Mingyu, my phone died and I had no way of reaching you. I bumped into Minghao and he volunteered to bring me here instead!”
Mingyu looked away, ashamed of his distrust in you. “Let’s just act like this never happened. Hug me you idiot.” You proposed. He didn’t think twice before engulfing you.
Woozi was extremely talented, so you praised him. And although you should’ve seen it somewhat coming, you didn’t. Hansol was an insecure, barely legal adult, his experience with relationships was limited and he just couldn’t get it through his head that you praised Jihoon because you treated all the boys (except him because he’s your s/o) like brothers and showed much appreciation because you were very proud of all of them. Jihoon had been coming to you for advice and opinions for their tracks a lot lately, so you’d both lock yourselves in his studio for hours on end. Unintentionally sending the wrong message to Vernon.
Hansol had been quite gloomy the entire day, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why. But you knew he needed his space, so you didn’t pester him.
You knew something was really wrong, Vernon never called you by your legal name. He always used the nickname only he was allowed to use. Turning to him worriedly, you asked, “What is it, Hansolie?” After he took a few breaths to calm his nerves, he whispered,
“Do you love Jihoon hyung more than me?”
Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Of course not! I love all thirteen of you equally!” But that wasn’t what Vernon was looking for, and you knew when he answered with a soft, “Oh.”
“But you’ll always be the one I have a bit of a softer spot for. I love you. Don’t forget that.” You kissed his forehead. He smiled brightly at you and threw his arms around you.
Hey Sophia, nice job, I really enjoy your work. How are you creating your animations if you don't mind me asking?
A bunch of people have asked me this over the months, so instead of just linking to tutorials I’d like to go a little more in-depth.
My process for making animations has changed a lot in the time I’ve been doing them. I used to work almost exclusively in Flash (for animations like lighthouse lady, fish man, busy girl, train folks, and rock roller) with a little bit of Photoshop basically just for post-processing (tweaking colors with adjustment layers). I should note that when I’m animating geometric shapes I almost always make them in Illustrator, and then import them into Flash.
For some other recent animations I’ve done a hybrid approach – making geometric shapes in Illustrator and animating them in Flash, then bringing them into Photoshop to apply texture to the shapes and also do any hand-drawn animation. See “help computer” and this NYT piece.
Unfortunately, Flash CC has actually removed a lot of the features I depended on for animation (the motion editor, and inverse kinematics) so I am finally taking the plunge into learning After Effects, which I’ve been putting off for forever even though it’s industry standard. I expect it will change my approach a lot.
Before I get into the weeds with a specific example I wanna shout out Ric Carrasquillo, who has mentored me with a lot of animation stuff and is a phenomenal artist and all-around nice guy!
So the most recent animation I’ve put on tumblr is this running girl. Let me tell you how this came to be.
I have a folder on my computer called “style tests” that is filled with random scribbles, sketches, abstract color palettes, brush experiments, patterns, etc. When I feel like starting a random personal project, I peek in here and see if there’s anything that holds water. If it manages to keep my interest after wasting away in this folder for months, then it’s probably worth finishing.
Apparently I started “runner” about a year ago, in April 2013. it was initially just an idea for a static illustration in a sort of printmakey style with a limited palette. I’m sure I was thinking of this scene from Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams because it haunts me.
Anyway, it stayed like this for basically a year, then in May of 2014 I decided to do something with it. I had been thinking of the scene again and thought it would be fun to animate a run cycle.
I did rough pass animation in Flash because I find it faster and more intuitive when you’re working out timing. The final animation is two 16-frame run cycles at 12 fps, so on the 2’s at 24 fps, basically. My first pass here is on the 2’s at 12 fps, so on the 4’s at 24 fps. I asked my coworker Matt Cruickshank for tips and he pointed out that it’s physically impossible to run with your arms and legs moving foward on the same side, which gives you fascinating insight into how little I know about this stuff
Second pass with all the frames filled out – this was sufficient for me to move to final linework.
I exported the animation from Flash as a .png sequence, then imported that into Photoshop as a video layer so that I could trace over it in a new video layer. This part was the most time-consuming and tedious, so I queued up Das Boot and had at it. Here’s a progress shot. Someone on twitter mentioned that her right arm (our left) was doing some funky stuff and he was right! I fixed it as best I could in the final. It still looks weird tho :C
When I was done with the 16-frame cycle, I duplicated it and changed her facial expression in the second round so that it wouldn’t feel too repetitive. Next: color.
When animating in Photoshop, you can create a cycling texture animation as a smart object and then clip it to a layer, video layer, or group of frame layers. This is what I did with her shirt. I made a Photoshop action to create a bunch of random blobby noise, ran it on 16 separate color layers, and clipped the resulting footage to the flat shirt shapes.
I do variations of this all the time, with static illustrations too, just to add some speckle to a solid color.
Then I spent a long time coloring all the lines………
For the background elements, I went back to Flash, using some Illustrator-made vector shapes. The hill in the background is a giant rotating circle with alternating smooth and pointy ripples.
The bush in the foreground is a spiky rectangle doing a tile tween. Both of these got punted to Photoshop as .png sequences in video layers, where I colored and textured them.
At some point in this entire process I decided to lose the spooky hand + shadow in the background (seemed too cheesy, I wanted something more ambiguous) and I also removed the kicked-up dirt, under Ric’s advice that it was driving home a point that the character animation had sufficiently made.
The sky has some texture that was not procedurally generated, but scanned in (years ago) from some powdered graphite + alcohol experiments (I’m not being glib, you literally mix the graphite powder with alcohol). The texture files were huge and this led to some problems. Every single frame of that cycling texture was a very zoomed-in portion of a duplicated enormous 600dpi smart object, and it was bogging down the .psd. I rasterized the smart objects thinking that would solve the problem, but the thing is – Photoshop often lets pixels outside the canvas hang around in case you need them. I eventually solved the issue by cutting and pasting every single layer, so that I was sure it was only saving on-canvas pixels.
When everything was ready to go, I exported all the frames as flat .pngs and ran some actions on them to tweak the colors with curves layers and gradient maps, then piled them back into a .psd (File > Scripts > Load Files into Stack…)
Then I exported it as a .gif (because this was a limited palette piece from the start, this part was pretty painless) and posted it to tumblr, but not before redrawing it in unicode
(the most essential part of my artistic process)
In all this animation took about two weeks, but I was only working for half an hour to an hour every day, in-between more pressing projects – as a way to relax and have fun.
Work is slow so my hours took a hit, so it’s time to earn some extra hollah hollah cash dollah. I’ll see myself out…
I am opening 4 SLOTS for art commissions! Examples & general rules are above but the gist of it is this:
Hit me up with what you want drawn, if it’s anything besides a sketch, I’ll whip up some ideas in the sketch phase, once you approve, I get the payment, and you get a lovely 8.5x11 300dpi file for personal use to hang up and display!
If the slots fill up then that will close shop, but if I finish commissions before the slots are filled then I’ll reset the queue!
As one can tell, I really like fan art, and dark rpgs, and horror games, and monsters. ^w^;; I’m pretty open to most things, just nothing ugly & nasty for the sake of it, ok? My email is my primary contact for any and all commission posts, so if interested, please shoot me an email and we’ll get started!
All I ask is that you give me time to complete your commission, I try my best to get things done in a timely manner, and will keep you updated often! So no worries, okay? C:
As always, even if you can’t afford a commission, just give this post a reblog and signal boost it, I’d be mighty grateful for that, and even more grateful for your future business! C:
Fifer peered through the peephole of her front door. She hadn’t buzzed anyone in so the man standing there must be a neighbor but she didn’t recognize the face which was a pity because daaayyum, he was gorgeous. A quick glance in the mirror next to the door showed that she didn’t have anything stuck in her teeth and she ran her fingers through her hair a few times before she opened the door.
“Hi,” the handsome stranger said. He rubbed the back of his neck a few times. “I know this isn’t a great first impression, but I’m moving in across the hall, and I was wondering…” He trailed off. “My name’s Chris, by the way.”
“Fifer? With an eff?”
If I had a nickel for every time I heard that I could afford to quit my job and buy a small tropical island. “Two of them actually. My father’s a Revolutionary War buff.” She had gotten used to explaining her name in her twenty-seven years of life. And hey, it could be worse, her older sisters were Martha and Betsy, and only her mother’s stubbornness had kept her from going through life as a Dolley.
“Oh. Well, it’s a pretty name.” He left the ‘for a pretty lady’ part unsaid, which saved her from having to kick him in the balls. “Um, like I said, I’m moving in across the hall and there’s people coming and going and it’s driving my dog crazy, and I was wondering, if you’re going to be home this afternoon, would you mind letting my dog hang out with you?”
“Uh,” she tried to picture the dog that would look at home with the large bearded man in front of her and settled somewhere between a sheep dog and a Great Dane. “Is it big?” She snickered in her head. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Fifer.
No, that’s not Photoshop, people. That really is me and Colin. I actually met him. In person. Damn near swooned. Literally. I don’t think my heart has slowed down properly since. Here is the tale (where I come out mostly lame IMO, LOL):
I got home from work to an askbox filled with messages: COLIN’S IN EAST NASHVILLE. GO. You know who you are. And seriously, East Nashville’s a big place. But the Colin tag to the rescue! So I figured out which bar in East Nashville and hopped in my car and drove over there.
There were a bunch of trucks and vans outside, so I figured I must be in the right place! So I stood across the street for a while, like an HOUR while, not wanting to interrupt their filming or crew or anything. (Like I said, lame. I normally don’t have the balls to even do something like this but it’s BLOODY COLIN O'DONOGHUE. I had to at least try.)
Anyway, eventually one of the crew guys, Kevin, saw me and waved. I ran across the street and said that I didn’t want to bother them, but I wondered if I could say hello to Colin. I explained that I was just a normal (HA!) fan, and after I spoke to him I’d be gone and out of their hair. So Kevin (he really was the best!) went and spoke to the producers and came back and said that they had just started rolling but as soon as they had a break, he’d get Colin for me. Then he came back like twice more to let me know he hadn’t forgotten me, to just sit tight.
So I waited. Another crew guy let me back onto the patio where some other crew were just hanging out while they were rolling inside. And I waited some more.
Then the side door opens and there’s my new friend Kevin with Colin in tow. As soon as I saw him, my first words were “OH MY GOD.” Like you are not prepared for Colin in person. You think you are, but NOPE. He smiled that silly grin at me and…thank god, I was leaning against the wall cause I’m pretty sure they would have been scraping me off the pavement.
So Colin comes over holds out his hand (which I shook, good handshake on that man, like anyone is surprised) and says “Hi, I’m Colin.” LIKE i DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE, YOU PRECIOUS BB. And no, you’re not ready for the accent either. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I managed to tell him my name and that it was so nice of him to come out. And he said, “Did you want a picture?” My yes may or may not have been a bit too loud. Sorry Colin. Anyway, I pulled out my phone (that has my Captain Swan case on it!) and handed it to Kevin, who took THREE pics of us. The above is the best one, although they are all amazing.
I asked him how he liked Nashville so far and he said it was really nice, but he hadn’t seen a lot of it yet since they were so busy. I managed to babble about my move here ten years ago and how much I loved it here and if he got the chance he should see more of it. And he said he’d try. (with that damn grin again, please stop, Colin)
He said it was nice to meet me and I thanked him (and Kevin!), shook his hand AGAIN, waved and headed on my way. Shaking all the way to my car. I’m pretty sure my heart hasn’t recovered yet. HOLY SHIT I JUST MET COLIN O'DONOGHUE.
A few other things: he smells good. Like really good. Those worried for some reason about scruff: DON’T WORRY. I could already see it growing back in and he probably shaved this morning. Relax. Two days tops and the Hook scruff is back. :D
i think i'm in love with your blog omg. all those imagines, they're just perfect. simple as that. you're definitly a good writer. also, could you do an imagine when the reader is sam and dean's little sister (she's 18), its her senior year and even if she hunts with them she have to go to school, but one day they found out that she's bullied, they found out because the football players have beat her and they fix it with those guys (fluffly pls)sorry for the english again, i am french, thanks :)
Hi! Thank you so much. You have no idea how much that means to me!
TRIGGER WARNING: Bullying.
You walked through the corridors with your shoulders hunched and your head hanging low, trying not to draw any attention to yourself. Even though you were a hunter, your brothers made you go to school regardless. They said it was because they wanted you to have the life they’d never gotten. And you didn’t blame them at all, because you could totally see where they were coming from. It was just…well, you hated school. But it wasn’t the teachers or the homework or the gross cafeteria food or anything like that. No. It was the other students, and in particular, the football team.
They were always calling you horrible names and fixing crappily photoshopped pictures to your locker. And while you did have your own little circle of friends and were fairly well liked by a number of your peers, it didn’t stop you from hurting whenever the football team chose to attack again.
Of course, Sam and Dean knew none of this. As far as they were concerned, school was just peachy for you. And you wanted to keep them in the dark about it, because if they found out, they would take serious action. And somehow, you didn’t know if it’d be strictly legal. Besides, it was your senior year. In a few short months, this would all be over, and you’d be free to travel with Sam and Dean, leaving the petty politics of high school behind.
Feeling a buzzing in your pocket, you pulled out your phone, seeing the screen lit up with a text from Dean. ‘Just got back in town. We’ll pick you up from school this afternoon,’ it read. You smiled, hardly able to wait until you could see them again. When they were around, you felt safe. You felt like you could forget all about the bullying, even if for just a few hours.
“Hey, wonder what’s got Y/N all happy,” Dan jeered. Looking up, you found that while you’d been checking your phone, the football team had found you, forming a loose circle around you. Glancing around, you realised with a sinking heart that the corridors were empty aside from them, with everyone else in class.
“Let’s find out, shall we,” Nate grinned, snatching the phone from your hand. “Ooh, a text message from Dean! Who’s he? Your boyfriend?”
“As if!” Liam exclaimed, while around him the team collapsed into laughter. “Look at her. Do you think she’d ever be able to get a boyfriend?”
“Please give me my phone back,” you said quietly, fighting to keep your voice from shaking.
“Oh, you want it back, do you? Well, here you go.” Nate held out his hand with the phone in it. But just as you reached out to take it, he snatched it back out of your reach. “Got you that time!” he laughed.
“Please,” you pleaded, jumping up to try and take it back. Tears pricked your eyes, but you forced them away, knowing that to cry now would only make this a thousand times worse.
Whenever you faced monsters, you felt strong, totally in control. Fighting was something that could be taught, and you knew that Sam and Dean were the best teachers in the world. But facing these guys in the school corridor…they made you feel weak. This was a different kind of battle, one that couldn’t be fought with a bit of research and the right technique. This was a battle that you had to fight everyday, and knowing how futile it was, you had simply stopped trying to fight it.
“You know,” Dylan said thoughtfully, analysing your features with his arms crossed over his chest, “Y/N’s nose doesn’t quite match up with the rest of her face.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Chad agreed. “Here, let me fix it for you.” Before you could even register what was happening, his fist had smacked into your nose, and you felt blood trickle down to your lip. You stood frozen in shock as Troy reached out to punch your cheeks as well for good measure. Never before had they resorted to physical violence, and you had no idea how to react.
You felt their eyes sizing you up again, but before anyone could take another swing at you, the bell rang, and you got the hell out of there. Their voices called after you, taunting you, but you blocked them out, heading to the front of the school where you knew Sam and Dean would be parked with the Impala.
You slid into the backseat, keeping your head down to hide your face from them. “How was school?” Sam asked.
“Just drive, please,” you answered, close to tears. You wanted nothing more than to be as far from that school as possible.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked. When you didn’t reply, they both turned back to look at you in the backseat. “Y/N?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered. Dean’s hand reached out and took a hold of your chin, tilting your head up so that they could see you properly. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Dean said through gritted teeth, “Who did this to you?”
“No one! Can we please just leave,” you said through the tears that had started to fall. But your eyes unwittingly flicked towards the football field, where the football team was warming up before practise.
“The football team?” Sam asked. You nodded, knowing that there was no use trying to hide things from them anymore. Through your sobs, you told them everything, beginning a few weeks ago with snide comments, and ending with today, when their fists had joined in on the fun.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked gently.
“Be-because I was scared!” you whispered. “They made me feel so weak.”
“You just wait here, alright?” Dean said, getting out of the car.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?” Sam responded, climbing out of the car himself. For several minutes, you waited there, not daring to look out the window for fear of what you might see. But finally, Sam and Dean opened the doors and got back into the car.
“Here you go,” Dean said, passing your phone back to you. As he withdrew his hand, you noticed that his knuckles were slightly bloody.
“What did you do to them?” you wanted to know.
“Let’s just say that they won’t bother you anymore,” Sam replied.
“That’s right,” Dean added. “No one makes our sister feel weak and gets away with it.”
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At first glance, Enjolras looks like your typical upper-middle class hipster: incredibly attractive - he was very popular in high school -, with trendy clothes that are very tight and expensive accessories, longish hair that smells vaguely of strawberries. He always wears sunglasses, drinks very expensive coffee in indie coffee shops, and always has the lastest technology devices as he works on his Master’s thesis and writes on his social justice blog. He’s still the quiet, very intense man we know and love, but he’s considered a somewhat elusive fashion icon, and paparazzi swarm to catch pictures of him during protests. (insp., Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois, at the power of a hundred.)
Combeferre is, without a doubt, the academic hipster. Wears a lot of grandpa sweaters, he listens to music almost exclusively on vinyl, needs those glasses - although his eyesight is not as bad as people often assume - , and is fascinated by food from all around the world. He’s travelled a lot; more than any of the other amis, except maybe Bahorel, and his apartment is filled with souvenirs. He likes writing on an old typewritter he found in this flea market he goes to every week in search of old, rare books that could have somehow found themselves in that place - he thens sells them again - along with lots of other books - in the small used bookstore he owns.
Courfeyrac is the party hipster. He loves bowties, shirts with funny patterns, and coloured skinny jeans. The 80s are a source of eternal happiness for him, especially its movies, even though his driver’s license confirms that he was born in 1990 (to his eternal sorrow). He loves to dye his hair all sorts of different colours. He’s invented at least ten new dance styles in the past five years, and ‘discovered’ more bands than he can count. He blogs with Enjolras, has a popular youtube channel, and Bahorel and him bicker constantly over on Instagram. He’s excellent with a camera and a Photoshop pro.
Prouvaire wears a lot of loose clothes inspired by - well, no one is really sure, but it’s a bit old fashioned, often unfortunate, and also nature. He’s a ‘natural’ hipster, sighs longingly, thinking of how life was simpler in the country - though he’s actually a city boy, born and bred. Very fervent environmental activist. He writes by hand in dark corners of coffee shops, sipping on the same chamomile tea for hours but tipping generously. He tries DIY projects weekly, but rarely finishes them. He has a smooth, deep, almost ethereal singing voice, but is a pretty bad musician otherwise. Owns so many plants. He has a few aesthetic blogs and likes to hang out at Combeferre’s bookstore.
Feuilly is an accidental hipster. He shops in thrift stores - along with Prouvaire and Courfeyrac - because it’s cheaper and he wants to encourage local businesses. Wears layers and layers of sweaters and scarves, and these big glasses are because he can’t afford to get new ones without ensurance, he hadn’t even realised they were back in style! Often has ink or charcoal stains all over his hands, which makes some boys and girls and non-binary cuties swoon a little when he shows up at the coffee shop, or during the night classes he takes at the local community college. You probably haven’t heard of his favourite movies. Shows up a lot in Courfeyrac’s and Bahorel’s instagrams, with a hashtags #how, #why, and #unfair.
Bahorel is a douchester: muscular, tattoed, pierced, and bearded, he takes care of his body more than all of the others combined. Hasn’t gotten rid of all his v-neck shirts, which he now often pairs with old jeans and flannels. He’s into outdoor sports, but also coffee - he’s a coffee pro - and cooking. Frequents an old-style barber shop, can play both the drums and the guitar, and is, really, the selfie king of the group. He posts recipes online quite often, and is a surprisingly (or not, if you know him) great baker. He loves to organize different activities for kids who might otherwise not get to participate much, for various reasons.
Bossuet is another fashionable hipster, who likes to be aware of the trends then find cheap ways to immitate them - turtlenecks, vests, scarves, beanies and hats - though he always wears the same worn-down sneakers. He’s also a great musician and and incredible flirt. Is really good at make-up - his and Joly’s nails are always painted different colours. He has a youtube channel in which he talks a lot about disability and accessibility, and also tricks on how to make it on a small budget.
Joly is a hipster geek; also, one of the less hipster-ish of the group, when it comes down to it, though, well, with the company he keeps… Well, he pulls off cute-nerdy-hipster very well. His real passion is science fiction and also science in general - also weird-looking animals. Most of his tshirts illustrate one of these three things. Loves cats, also watching shows on Netflix, and tea. He has so much tea.
Grantaire is total normcore. He takes great efforts in appearing like he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about fashion and appearance, but it’s untrue. Aknowledges that he’ll never pull of the trendy outfits Enjolras wears; thus, he adopted normcore pretty quickly: baseball caps, denim shirts, too-big trousers… He knows all the best, underrated (for now) places to eat and drink, and is a great photographer. Can play the harmonica. His twitter is his only social media presence, and is usually a very snarky run of comments on the news and other events. Loves pugs.
I slammed my fists against the steering wheel and cursed out
my godforsaken car. Here I was, stuck, on a mountain, in the middle of a
snowstorm. I opened the door and stepped out into the snow, cursing, again, as
the snow seeped into my expensive Italian shoes. This was really not my day.
I began walking along the road. Unfortunately, my phone was
dead, so I couldn’t call for help or use it as a flashlight. The snow was
falling down around me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find my car in the
morning. There was nothing for me to do but trudge on.
It felt like I was walking for hours. My feet were soaked,
my hands were frozen, and shivers kept running down my spine. Eventually I came
upon what looked to be the warmest place in the world: a cozy little cabin,
with warm yellow light spilling through the window and smoke curling up into
the sky from the chimney. I thanked my stars for the sudden stroke of luck.
I stomped the snow off my shoes and rapped my knuckles
against the door. It swung open, revealing the flushed face of a beautiful blond
boy. “Did you get the marshmallows?” he asked.
“What?” I asked.
“Uh, no, sorry, I thought you were my roommate…” he mumbled.
Do you mean your cabinmate? I thought
to myself. God, I really need to drink something. “So, er, can I help you?” he
“Yeah, sorry, I was just wondering if you had a phone I
could use. My car broke down up the road, and I need to call my family.”
He frowned. “You were walking…in this?” He stuck his perfect
blond curls out the door and stared out into the storm. “You know, if your
family isn’t used to driving on the mountain, they really shouldn’t drive up
here in this.”
I ran my hands through my hair. “Well, is there a way…” I
trailed off as I shivered and swayed on my feet.
“Hey, are you okay?” I heard his voice say as I blacked out.
I dragged him into the house. What kind of guy just shows up
on someone’s doorstep and faints?
“Shit, shit, shit…” I tried to pull him up on the couch and
failed, so I just left him on the floor. His feet were soaked through, and they
left streaks of water across the floor. I sighed and grabbed the mop from the
After I had finished mopping up the floor, the phone rang.
“Penny?” I asked when I picked it up.
“Simon!” I heard her shout from the other side. “I’m so
sorry, but the storm’s too bad. We’re going to have to stay in town for the
“Alright…Penny?” I asked her. “Hypothetically, if someone
was passed out on your floor, and you didn’t know why, hypothetically, what
would you hypothetically do?” I nudged his side with my foot.
“Simon, what the hell are you doing? IS THERE SOMEONE PASSED
OUT ON OUR FLOOR?” Penny yelled. Again.
“Um. Maybe. He walked to our house from his car, asked to
use our phone and then fainted, so I dragged him inside.”
“If he was walking in the snow, he’s probably dehydrated.
Get him some water. Also put a blanket on him to warm him up.”
“Thanks Penny! See you tomorrow!”
“Hey, wait—” I hung up on her in the middle of her sentence.
First I dragged a blanket from my bed and laid it on him. (I
also put a pillow under his head because he looked uncomfortable.) Then I got a
glass of water and a straw.
I put one end of the straw in the glass and the other in his
mouth. (His mouth is perfectly shaped. Like, it looks photoshopped.)
Unfortunately it didn’t do anything. I guess you can’t drink from a straw when
I considered opening his mouth and pouring the water in, but
I didn’t know if I could handle it. Instead, I splashed some water on his face.
He sat up, sputtering. “W-w-what?”
“You fainted,” I told him. “Here, drink this.” I handed him
the glass of water.
He cocked one perfect eyebrow. “Why is there a straw in it?”
I felt my face grow warm. “Because. My roommate told me
you’re probably dehydrated, so I figured you could drink through the straw…” I
trailed off as the oven dinged. “Ooh! The cookies are done!” I jumped up and
ran into the kitchen.
The guy followed me. He leaned against the counter and set
his empty glass down. I pulled the cookies out of the oven and set them on the
stove to cool. When I turned around he was staring at me. “What?” I asked him.
He ran his hands through his hair (which, by the way, was
just about the hottest thing I have ever seen). “I still need to call my dad.”
I crossed my arms. “I still don’t even know your name.”
He held out his hand to me. “I’m Baz.” What kind of a name
“Simon.” I took his hand and shook it. “Phone’s right
“Thanks,” he said as he picked up the phone.
I picked up a cookie and immediately dropped it, because it
was burning hot, and went back into the living room. I sat down on the couch
and turned on the TV, but my eyes kept drifting back to Baz. He was still
leaning against the counter. His hair looked bloody fantastic, considering he
was walking around in a snowstorm not half an hour ago. His eyes were onyx, set
in the snow-white of his skin. His cheeks were flushed, like someone had
crushed up rose petals and thrown them at his face. His nose was almost big
enough to be considered hooked, but it was perfectly proportional to his face.
As I watched, he took off his suit jacket, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned
the top three buttons on his dress shirt. I swear to God I started salivating.
I had to look away as I felt the blush rise up from my neck. When I got myself
together and looked back at him he had taken his shoes off—thank God, those
things were soaked—and was staring straight at me. We held eye contact for what
felt like an hour, until I look away.
“No Dad, I can’t come home until tomorrow. Yeah, because of
the snowstorm. Yeah. Give my love to Daphne and the children. Happy Christmas.”
I hung up the phone and ran my hands through my hair again. I glance over back
at Simon, who is staring defiantly at the TV. I can see the light of the fire
on his face, dancing and making his skin look even more gold than it is
already. I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be like this; to be so
absolutely perfect, even though they live in some godforsaken shack up on a
I take a cookie from the sheet and walk over to the couch to
sit next to him. He scoots away from me.
I roll my eyes and lean back against the couch. From where
I’m sitting, I can see the curve of his neck, and the moles that are carelessly
placed around it.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks me. “I have a ton
of egg nog I need to get rid of.”
I nod and follow him into his dining room. The table is
covered in pastries of every type, and there’s a huge punch bowl full of egg
nog. Simon pours two cups, and then holds one out to me. I thank him and take a
sip. It slides down my throat, burning just a little from the alcohol.
It’s so good that I tilt my head back to enjoy it.
That’s when I see the mistletoe.
I freeze, because it’s hanging perfectly over our heads.
Simon sees me, frozen, and follows my gaze to the mistletoe.
He turns red. Again.
I consider turning and walking back to the couch, but my
feet can’t move.
Then his hand is on my neck and he’s pulling me closer and
his mouth is pressed against mine and he’s kissing me and his mouth is so warm.
How is he still so cold?
I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer, eager
to accept the heat he’s giving me.
I pull away, breathless. His arms are like iron around me,
so I can’t go very far. He rests his forehead against mine, and exhales, “Wow.”
I smile. “Yeah.”
He lets go of me and yawns. (When he yawns, he raises both
arms above his head and the yawn makes his whole body shudder.) “I should go to
I look at the ground. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
He looks at me. “Why? It’s your house.”
I shake my head. “You’re still cold and probably getting
sick and my bed’s warmer. I’ll take the couch.” Baz shrugs. I show him to my
room, then head back to the couch, shutting the door behind me.
The fire’s dying when I finally drift off.
I wake up the next morning in paradise.
On my right, out the window, the world forms the most
peaceful landscape I have ever seen. The freshly fallen snow lies over
everything like a blanket.
On my left is the most perfect head of blond curls in the
I suppose that at some point last night he must have crawled
into the bed with me. I don’t mind, even though I slept in my suit last night
and I feel kind of uncomfortable in it.
The sun is just peeking over the horizon, so I turn over and
wrap my arms around Simon, content to feel the heat radiating off him.