velvetysage
135 posts
Latest Posts by velvetysage
i am missing writing on here sm and i plan and hope to get back to it and start new things so soon :(
Gideon Glick as Tobias Bell and Ivan du Pontavice as Gabin Roux ÉTOILE — The Hiccup (1.04)
Gideon Glick as Tobias Bell and Ivan du Pontavice as Gabin Roux ÉTOILE — The Offer (1.08)
yeah a boyfriend sounds nice but a supreme enemy you can make out with sometimes in secret sounds a lot more hardcore
COOPER KOCH — Calvin Klein by Mert Alas (2025)
Gideon Glick as Tobias Bell and Jonathan Groff as Kevin ÉTOILE — The Slip (1.07)
the sound of racked weights met her before she even stepped fully into the room. and then — there he was. shirtless, glistening, halfway through his set and entirely too aware of how he looked doing it. her gaze skimmed over him just once — the glint of sweat on his back, the way his muscles flexed as he racked the weights — and then promptly returned to his face, unbothered. she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of lingering. still, the corner of her mouth twitched. a barely-there smile that came and went before it could settle. "how thoughtful," she said, stepping further into the room, clipboard in hand, completely unfazed — or at least appearing so. "you really shouldn’t have.” she was dressed in sleek black leggings and a slate grey sports bra layered beneath a cropped long-sleeve — neutral, fitted, entirely functional. she caught his eye, letting the air hang just a second before answering his question. "as for what’s on the repertoire?" her voice was smooth. "a lot of legs. core work. mobility. i figured if you’re going to insist on lifting like your life's a nike ad, we might as well make sure you don’t move like a fridge."
♡ — closed starter for @velvetysage
alec's halfway through a set when celeste walks in unannounced. his shirt is off, earbuds in, and there's sweat slicking down his back. this isn't about impressing her, but he's not above showing the blonde that he doesn't need her to keep up. racking the weights with a touch more force than necessary, he pulls one airpod out to speak. "don’t worry, cel, i saved all the boring stuff for you," alec says, barely sparing her a glance. this is how their dynamic always goes, competitive with a hint of underlying tension. "what's on the workout repertoire today?"
i have had a busy two weeks . . so i do apologize for slow and lack of replies to the things i owe , but plan on making a full return next week & hopefully get even more threads going !!
MOLLY GORDON wears Miu Miu styled by Jared Ellner makeup by Shayna Gold hair by Barb Thompson photographed by Emilio Madrid in Venice, Italy for Harper's Bazaar on September 1, 2024.
a plot where muse a receives the wedding invitation for muse b’s wedding , but finds out that in the back of the invitation there is a handwritten note saying ‘ i’m getting married to someone else , but you’re the true love of my life ’ . i live for this type of angst .
NOWHERE SPECIAL (2020) dir. Uberto Pasolini
everything is loud. too loud. the sound of drew’s voice rising, the screech of the kettle, the slam of cabinets — it all starts to blur together into a cacophony that pounds against penny’s temples like a war drum. she sits frozen on the couch, arms still wrapped tight around her legs, like they’re the only thing keeping her from flying apart at the seams. she wants to respond. she wants to scream, to cry, to match the chaos that’s suddenly unraveled between them. but instead, her brain short-circuits. everything inside her is pulling in different directions — heart, logic, rage, love, grief — until it feels like her whole body is ringing. a bomb, seconds from detonation. her eyes flutter shut, tight. she forces herself to breathe — in, out, again — but it doesn’t help. it only reminds her of the weight in her chest, the ache that hasn’t left her since drew walked out two weeks ago, since she vanished without explanation and left penny piecing herself back together in silence. and now she’s here, tearing through the flat like a storm, knocking things loose with every breath. the kettle screams. not yet boiling over, but close. it’s the only sound she can actually hear now. she opens her eyes, slowly, and for a moment, she doesn’t look in the direction of drew — she can’t. instead, she stares at the floor. at the space between them. at everything unsaid that’s managed to grow roots in the middle of the room. then, her voice. barely above a whisper at first. "right." she lifts her gaze, finally meeting drew’s, standing in the kitchen and something in her expression has gone terrifyingly still — not cold, but stripped. bare. tired in a way that doesn't sleep off. "so what are we doing here, then?" her voice wavers slightly, but the words are clear. a quiet tremor beneath the strength. "what is this? what are we still doing if all we ever do is circle back to the wreckage?" she stands slowly, her movements deliberate, but her body betrays the storm inside — a tremble in her hands, a twitch at her jaw. "i keep telling myself we’re fighting for something. that there’s still something good buried underneath the damage, underneath everything. that the mere thought of me forgiving you .. letting you back in .. trying to trust you again .. that it can all be worth it." her throat tightens. “but if all we have left is guilt and love and pain, if that’s all we know how to hand each other — if every room we enter together ends up on fire — then i need to know…” her voice catches, but she pushes forward, fierce and fragile all at once. "what the hell are we doing here?" silence answers first. the kettle whines behind her like it's in mourning. "because if this is just habit," she whispers, "if this is just grief and ghosts and some sick pattern we’re too afraid to break — then maybe we should admit it. maybe we should finally say that love... just isn't enough." she doesn’t cry this time. maybe she’s cried it all out. maybe she’s holding her breath too tight to let it fall. all she knows is that she’s standing in the eye of the storm, asking the one question that might finally undo them both.
"i don't know how many times i can say it." drew finally snaps. after penny's heartfelt confession, she can hardly keep it in. a thread within her severs. the last sliver of rope pulling taut and creaking until it unravels entirely. she's chewed on penny's words, tasted their bitterness and digested them. but as tensions rise, the bile comes up right along with it. all she can do is expel her boldest, innermost thoughts. "i'll be here, okay? i'll stay. i know i've fucked up. do you just like -- do you get off hearing me admit it?" drew circles the counter to create considerable space between herself and penny. the physical divide is certainly representative of the one that is blurring the line between them. the greatest point of contention between the two of them. penny's anxieties and drew's tendencies to toe the line between wanting to fix things and wanting to be free. it's not fair for either of them to be on this see-saw of opposition. then why can neither of them get off the ride? it may seem like drew is completely disregarding all of penny's concerns, that each and every syllable goes in one ear and right out the other. but they hadn't. instead every word ricochets off the walls of drew's mind like an idle dvd screen. and when one thought hits the corner of her brain, a new thought pops off. "obviously this all still matters to me, i wouldn't come back here with my tail between my legs every time if it didn't. we're both fucking battered and burdened. you're upset over what i did and what i continue to do. and i'm upset over what i've done and continue to do, it's a vicious cycle." the fridge door swings open and the blonde grabs the milk that is sitting unexpectantly on the door. she plops it loudly on the counter, the plastic jug sinking in on itself at the bottom upon impact. busy bodied, the girl walks over and fills the tea kettle as her thoughts continue to race. "what'd you say? i'm a hurricane. yeah -- i'm a hurricane. i come, i tear through the fucking place, and we try to rebuild and repair. you can either move away or get a raincoat and weather the storm --" the tea kettle is placed on the stove with a screech and the flame beneath it flickers to life. her voice breaks slightly as she raises her voice. "because i don't know how to fix me. i can make all the promises i want but i don't know how to -- god, i don't know. stop.. being a monumental fuck up?" the tea kettle is whistling before drew can even register how much time has passed. her frantic hands flip the cabinet doors open and closed, open and closed. she quickly realizes that she doesn't know where the mugs are anymore. how much has changed about this place. how once finding the mugs was second nature and now it's a disorienting quest. it become clear -- once things were so easy for them. as common as breathing. and now things had changed -- and this quest to get back to familiarity was a wild one neither of them knew how to navigate. tears are brimming the corners of her eyes as she cuts the heat on the kettle, utterly giving up on the search for the mugs. "i'm messy. i'm cruel. i make jokes. and i've changed and i don't know if it's for the better. i try to be honest. i try to stay -- i try to be here. but it fucking sucks to be reminded or everything i've done wrong.. every single time i look at you. and i'm not looking for your sympathy. it's entirely my fault. i love you. and you love me. but it's fucking destroying us."
it wasn’t the first time mason had ended up in her treatment room — and knowing him, it wouldn’t be the last. harper had come to expect the combination of ego and deflection that followed him through the door, all six-foot-something of him acting like every injury was just part of the game. "oh, right," she said flatly, one brow arching as she examined the damage. "so this doesn’t hurt?" she said applying more pressure. the wince that flickered across his features told her everything. "yeah, that’s what i thought." she stepped back, exhaling through her nose as she moved toward the cabinet, gloves snapping off her hands with a quiet finality. "mason, this isn’t just a bruise you can shake off on the court." her tone wasn’t cruel, but it was cutting. "your body is your entire job, and if you want to keep doing it for more than five years, maybe start listening to the woman who’s literally paid to keep you standing." she paused, glanced over her shoulder. “this might even be out of my hands, mason. and if i’m saying that? it’s time to take it seriously.” her voice dropped slightly, something quieter there. “i wish it was just me being dramatic.”
closed starter for @velvetysage ♡ ( loosely ) based on this !
"don't you think you're being a tad dramatic?" for all he knew, he could have a broken nose. instead of owning up to his mistake, he deflected, trying to bring some light to the situation. it was classic mason — never wanting anyone to be mad at him, despite creating a situation where someone should be. "it's not as bad as it looks. it barely even hurts."
MOLLY GORDON in Venice, Italy for Miu Miu Women's Tales at the 81st Venice Film Festival photographed by Emilio Madrid (September 1, 2024)
ONE TREE HILL ( 2003 - 2012 ) ↳ season 7 episode 6
i have been slaaaaaacking & i am fully aware of that. do apologize. life got a bit hectic in the past two weeks. but my ultimate goal is to get back into a decent activity this week !!
she watched his movements as he bent down to grab his tumbler, quickly debating whether she should offer to buy him a new one, considering the small dents and bumps caused by their collision. but seeing as he didn’t seem to care about the state of it, she decided to let it slide for now. "oh well, glad i could help you shake things up — quite literally," she said with a smirk, the words dripping with lighthearted sarcasm. her smile softened, but only for a moment, before she almost had to fight back a grin at his teasing comment. "careful now, stranger. if you keep saying things like that, i might just start running into you more often if you’re gonna say things that makes me feel extra special" the brief silence that followed was interrupted by the sound of a snickers bar finally tumbling down the vending machine. a bit too late and almost a comedic timing. "well, look at that..." she said with a mock-surprised tone, nodding at the candy bar. "unless you think that’s enough of a lunch for you . . yeah , let’s go find something better."
a small chuckle sounded from his lips, head shaking as he finally bent down to grab his poor, exiled tumbler from where it had rolled to a stop. “for the record, i’m usually the one getting kicked by life, not the one doing the kicking. so this is a refreshing twist,” he replied, slinging the bottle under his arm as he looked at her again. she was quick, charming in a frantic way, and definitely not the kind of person you forgot running into. “and no,” he continued, leaning in with a whisper, “i don’t offer lunch to everyone who nearly takes me out with a flying coffee cup. you’re just the exception.” his grin widened, hands sliding into the pockets of his hoodie as he gestured toward the exit. “but now that you’ve thrown a vending machine into submission and offered to feed me out of guilt, i feel like i’d be an idiot not to take you up on it. c’mon, let’s find something that isn’t held hostage behind bulletproof glass.”
" stunnin' face ? you lot really are dangerous with compliments over here. look, maybe i came for the moral support and maybe i stayed for the fights — and maybe, maybe, the view from my seat just so happens to be decent. hockey’s chaotic, violent, and dramatic. i’m a theatre girl, raph. i was bound to fall for it eventually. besides, it’s not like you’re exactly forgettable on the ice. consider me an intrigued convert. "
" and you're not ? just tagging along for moral support or did someone catch your eye along the way ? all the way from the uk and supporting me weekly , think hockey's growing on your sweetheart -- who can really complaining at such a stunnin' face ? "
" don’t try to make me feel old just yet. but you’re probably right, i myself might be the only one who can handle all my charm and nonsense. as for blowing you away ? i’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve. maybe i’ll get you a house with a secret room just for me to hang out in. no, wait — you can have the big house, i’ll take the part where i build a world-class kitchen. that way, i can wow you with my cooking ... and maybe, just maybe, make you think twice about that whole separate wings thing. but hey, i’ll keep working on that proposal just in case you’re actually serious about this pact. "
" just bringing it up to see if you have a memory of a goldfish or not . . . bold of you to assume that i'd put up with it if we get married , might have to buy a house big enough so i could be locked on the other end of it . oh ? i want to be wowed , think you can blow me away ? "
" oh, i’m here because i had the unfortunate luck of crossing paths with you. and trust me , the only thing i’m wasting is the 30 seconds i spent listening to you talk. but sure, if you want to keep pretending like you’re some irresistible force, be my guest. as for enjoying this ? sweetie, i don’t enjoy much, but you ? you’re definitely a spectacle. "
" i hear a lot of that mouth running , but still not answering my question . . . why are you here to begin with ? though , aren't you wasting your energy by speaking to me in general ? dunno , riles , if i didn't know better i'd say you enjoy it . "
penny doesn’t respond at first. there’s too much swelling in her chest, too many words tangled somewhere between her ribs and her throat, too much that could come out wrong if she rushes it. she looks at drew — really looks — and it almost breaks her. because despite everything, despite the silence and the confusion and the ache that’s been her constant companion for the past two weeks, she still feels it. that pull. that unshakeable gravity that keeps drawing her back to this person no matter how many times she tries to build walls around her heart. “do you know how cruel it was?” she finally says, voice soft but shaking. “not what you did before. not the past. not the cheating.” a pause. her eyes sting, and she blinks hard, willing the tears to wait. “i’m talking about this. you just — disappeared. without warning. after everything we’ve been through. after all the work i had done to get to a point where i’ve been dancing around the idea of us again. letting you back in.. and i know it wasn’t about me or you trying to hurt me, not directly, but god, drew, it did.” her arms cross, more for grounding than defense. “i gave you space. because i thought maybe something had happened. that maybe you needed time. and i didn’t want to be the person who made it worse by crowding you. but every single day that went by without hearing from you — it started to feel less like you needed space and more like you’d decided i didn’t need to be kept. like you’d just… left. again.” she shakes her head, correcting herself. “no. not again. because you don’t do that. you don’t disappear. not like this. that’s why it hurt so much. because it’s not who you are — at least not who i thought you were anymore.”
she swallows the lump in her throat, pushing forward before the emotion chokes her off completely. “and then you walk in here like a hurricane in parkers flannel and a bandeau, making jokes and sniffing candles, like my brain hasn’t been chewing itself alive. i thought something happened to you, drew. i thought maybe everything that has happened lately was something you started to regret and you just didn’t know how to say it. or worse — that you were hurting and didn’t think you could come to me. that part nearly destroyed me.” she sinks back onto the couch, her knees pulled up, arms wrapping around them. “i don’t want to keep doing this push-and-pull every time life gets hard. i don’t want to be an afterthought, or a burden, or the person who gets left behind when everything gets too loud. i want to be someone you trust enough to stay with — even when it’s messy. especially when it’s messy.” a breath. “i believe in second chances, drew. i believe people can change. that they do change. and i let you back in because i felt like we were building something again. something good. something real. and i want to believe that wasn’t just me romanticizing the ruins. i want to believe this still matters to you.” she finally looks up at her again, eyes tired but clear. “but i need you to be honest with me. not just tonight. not just when it’s dramatic and everything’s falling apart. i need you to show up — and stay. because i don’t know how to give any less than all of me. and if i do that again… i need to know you won’t go quiet. and i need to know i’m not making the biggest mistake of my life when i say that i will always, wholeheartedly be yours. after everything, you’re all i want and all i’ll ever want.”
drew’s hands tremble, unknowing if it’s from the weight of the confession penny has just laid bare or the excruciating clarity that comes with hearing everything penny’s been carrying. she's not ignorant to burdens she causes, the mess she leaves in her wake. but to be reminded of her shortcomings never gets easier. her chest tightens, suffocating her under the heavy truth of it all. she wants to speak, wants to apologize, to make it right somehow -- but the words feel too small, too useless in the face of what she’s done. instead, all she can do is look at penny, the rawness of the moment cutting deeper than any act of harm she could have committed against herself. penny's words are still ringing in her ears, each one heavier than the last, and drew can feel the guilt gnawing at her. it makes her want to bolt again. but she can’t. no more coward's game.
"i'm not going to lie to you. not anymore." this isn't a bullshit vow. not a promise that be seamlessly debunked in a day's time but rather an opening line to her inner monologue. "what i expect from you is for you to worry. that's what you do. you drown yourself in baths, and tea, and candles, and wicked, and worry. i expect that. i also expect the tears. cruelly, i expect the forgiveness. i know it doesn't come easily but it always does with time. it's fucked up for me to expect it. but that's just who you are." drew rubs the day's old mascara from her eyes. she likely looks exhausted, defeated by the repercussions of her own actions. penny's plush sofa has never looked so comfortable. everything about this place makes her haunted. no wonder each time she returns she's reminded of her mistakes.
and all of her expectations are proven right at penny's confession. the words sound like they're being spoken in a chapel. soft, asking for forgiveness for the sin of being too forgiving. it feels like they're in an alcoholic's anonymous meeting. except penny is addicted to drew -- and drew is addicted to fucking up. drew’s eyes flicker back up to penny’s, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no deflection, no shields, just the painful truth. "i don’t know how to fix this. i don’t know how to fix me. but, i’m here. i know i disappeared --" drew releases a breath she'd been holding on account of penny's words. she wouldn't have been surprised if her features had washed purple. "but you're so brilliant. i read all the playbill reviews and i was fuckin' smiling ear to ear. because to know you - to see you is to be absolutely enamored by you. how am i ever supposed to feel like i deserve you when i've never done one thing right?" the distance between them closes as drew crosses the floor, lacing a stray hair behind penny's ear. "you're a star, pen. you don't need me to tell you that. but you need to believe it yourself. you need to believe that you deserve more than this." white teeth chew and fiddle nervously at her lower lip. "but on the off chance, you do realize it and make the reckless decision to love me anyways. i'm here. i'll always be here. even if it's by carrier pigeon or up in the god damn sky, i'm here. and i'm yours. even if you're not mine."
idgaf if my parents are disappointed in me I'm not impressed by them either