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rollingdumpsterfire · 1 year ago

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Found another French press and I’m slowly getting some semblance of normal mornings back, which I’ve missed. I set Howl’s Moving Castle down on the counter, pages-down, so while I wait for the water to boil, and while I let the coffee steep, I can get another chapter in. Leaving the book on the counter like that makes me pick it up when I’m waiting for things to boil. Lots of instant ramen and linguine with scratch-made red sauce to power through lately.

“What a very elegant way of making coffee!” I remember a Radiologist telling me when I explained what a French press was. The kettle begins to whine, stopping me mid-sentence in the book about Sofie’s boldness as an old woman. I pour the kettled water over the grounds in the press and shuffle around for a spoon.

“Damn. I need to stop wasting spoons like this”, as I root around for the last spoon, quickly stir in my coffee, and rinse it off to set it aside for my cereal. “Huh, four minutes, that’s shorter than I originally thought”, the instructions say. I’d usually let the coffee sit for ten. “Well, it’s not like I won’t taste the difference” I chuckle to myself, sparking up a reason why I even crave mornings like these in the first place. Immediate mental damage shaken off.

A silence fills the apartment.

I still can’t tell if I like these kinds of silences or not. The first time it happened was when I had gotten on the phone with many friends that day offering their support I always shrink away from.

"Come over, we'll cry and watch movies."

"Drive up here and stay the night, we'll play board games!"

"This is last minute, but come to my bachelor party at my house!"

After the last friend hanging on the phone said “I just got into work, call you tomorrow?” and hung up, it was there for the first time. I stared down a half-empty apartment. You know the silence, when you’re alone and have been crying over something permanent but your body has just decided it’s over doing that mechanism. You’ve taken that last hiccupped breath, wiped your last tear, and blown your nose for the last time. That silence. What the fuck IS that silence? It’s happened more than once, too.

For a person who remembers hating silences off all kind, trying to fill a room with a record, or just powering through the stigma of making full-blown conversations with themselves. I learned to hate that inner voice. He was so jaded, so negative, so matter-of-fact. He was as sharp as a tack though. He would shield me from disappointment because worse-case scenario; I always knew it would end this way. Best case? I'm pleasantly surprised. It was never a silent moment with you, though. Anything to shut him up.

“No way we have the same exact music tastes!”

“Why do they call him Sterling and not just Archer?”

“If you were a bee what bee would you be?”

I was slingshot back to the reality of my current situation.

Chapter Six: In Where Howl Expresses His Feelings With Green Slime. Setting the book back pages-down, (listen, you'll be FINE it wont LIVE like that, besides-- you don't even want to know what happened to my copy of Catch-22), I root around for a mug, as if I'm not already going for my black and white "Eat the Rich" mug you got me two birthdays ago that I haven't washed since. I take my coffee black, and it's MY mug don't you dare fuckin' judge me! (by the way:

Yes that new Two Door Cinema club record is great, Sam crushes those guitar riffs.

It's a play on 007 where other characters call him Bond and not James.

A busy buzzy bee.)

My whirlwind of a roommate, went off to work after a night of debate of whether or not we need to go to a hospital. It's not that I didn't believe them of their sharp rib pain, it's just not enough to quantify an emergency and we would be stuck in the ER for hours only to be potentially told "we don't know what's wrong, here's some pain killers you can't afford, and off you go!" I don't even know who to be angriest at in this scenario, but I'll always kick myself first. Damn me and not being at the Doctor level yet. Damn me and being smart enough to know that I'm not smart enough to give a definitive answer on what ails them. FUCK me for being unwilling to feel their pain because if I give more empathy it'll complicate their feelings towards me, since admitting they had a crush on me the day before. I really don't need that on my plate right now.

There it is again. That damned silence.

Recovering again from those mental blows to myself, I reflexively go to the fridge to aim for that hazelnut creamer that you liked. Laughing to myself "having a coffee addiction but can't take it black." I touch my temple now from that psychic pain.

"Why do you snowball like this?" I say to myself soon after, switching gears to reach for my own milk for cereal, only to ultimately decide against it and close the door. I take the green book, set my mug on the coffee table and lay myself down on the couch with my left leg hanging over the edge. I look over the top of the book to the same perspective where you'd work and I'd read in absolute silence.

I learned to be welcoming of my own thoughts through the quiet times. I'm still the extrovert and needs to fill the air with noise. I used to make noise to shut up that angrier, self-loathing, inner bastard. This chapter of life though, having nothing going on, and no one to talk to made moments OF talking to friends all the sweeter. You showed me that.

I was emotionally damaged when we met so I remember often, looking up and choking on my own words for fear of letting you know more about me. I just got used to not saying anything when we hung out. I was busy being in my own head though.

I would make myself uncomfortable because I felt guilty that I was just in my head and not actually present with you. I KNOW you were okay with that, more than okay, you loved me more for it-- I just wasn't. The more and more these thoughts cycled in my head the more resentment I grew. At myself. It festered horridly. You ran around cleaning or cooking or working on your art, and I would check in "Need me to do something?" I didn't ask because I genuinely wanted to help I asked because I felt the guilt of being just inside my own head and paying you no mind. Secretly kind of liking it.

I didn't lie about loving you--it just made anything that you did that bothered me all the worse. All relationships have speed bumps, my spiraling made them mountains. Is this how you felt, in those pictures where you're deep in thought and you didn't say anything until the idea of me got away from you and what reality me would actually say? Yes, of course I don't have to move in with you! I know it's too early, but opportunities like this are weird like that in relationships, why have you been holding that in this whole time? You know you can talk to be about anything when it happens? You know with me there's always a compromise, right? You know it's not healthy to be hung up on an ex, right? Do I actually love you, or is it that "idea-of love" trope? Did I actually give in to "the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody" subconsciously? Did I give in to that initial terrible thought when we started dating that you were just a rebound? Sorry I'm freaking out about moving in with you, but it's too soon, yeah? Uh oh, I've had a dream about this, where we are dating but I'm not happy being with you, it's not coming true, is it?! Am I admitting I actually don't see a future with you? Am I subconsciously looking for the next person and refuse to give up what I have and let that jerk voice win? Did I just find someone else? Did I lose a different opportunity because I couldn't get it together fast enough? Again? Why am I like this? Would you have actually done those awful things if my situation was different? You know if you stopped trying to appease everybody you wouldn't be in this mess right? Do you like the drama secretly? Did you invite that chaos because you're bored? You're just a womanizer just like every other guy, aren't you? You try to go against that in every way but you're no different when push comes to shove, right? What could have done different with--?

"Just give me a second to breathe!"

I catch up to my runaway daydream.

That silence returns.

"Shit." I stare at my empty cup of coffee, which usually meant I would have to start the French Press Process all over again, but I always fill the press with water so there's two cups. Whether or not it's a leftover habit is unimportant, anyway. I shuffle over to the kitchen and fill my mug again. I turn my back, mug in hand and lean on the counter. The cold coffee touching my lips.

"Yeah, I've missed mornings like these."

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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years ago

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I Write Sins, Not Tragedies [Todoroki x F!Reader] Chapter 2

Summary: Your life is going about as well as anyone expects of a 20-year-old woman. You graduated two years ago and work at Endeavor’s hero agency as an assistant to the heroes there, including your childhood best friend and long-term crush, Todoroki Shouto. Everything was going your way until Todoroki gets a girlfriend…one without the purest intentions.

Pairing: Female Reader x Todoroki Shouto x Female OC

Content Warning: Love Triangles, Unrequited Love, Cheating, Angst with an eventual happy ending, eventual smut

Tsuyu was an intelligent girl, way more intelligent than you thought you’d ever be or rather less willfully masochistic than you. She was the first one to ever tell you there was no reason to be a doll on the shelf waiting for the moment Todoroki tired of all his other toys and decided to play with you. You’ve known for years now that she was right. Todoroki has never seen you as girlfriend material, he had made that known a long time ago back during your first year at UA.

Shouto was in his second year and invited you to a slumber party that his friends in the hero course were throwing. The only thing you remembered from that horrible night was someone suggesting that you all play seven minutes in heaven, being locked in the closet with your crush, and being in near tears by the end of it all.

Being in a closet with Todoroki was a cliché that you know only the girls in his class could come up with, thinking it was cute that you had a crush on your upperclassman. You knew better than to play along with their plans. Your relationship with Todoroki was a delicate balance of trust and understanding. A little game wasn’t going to help you build the confidence to risk that with a kiss.

You drew your knees to your chest, cursing them for putting you in this situation. There was a sigh then you fell into silence, leaving Todoroki to be the one to break it and the long train of what-ifs going through your head.

“Is this the part where we’re supposed to kiss?”

You didn’t even have the sense to gasp when he asked you that. You simply froze. You were afraid to answer. You didn’t want to believe him, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you didn’t want to be rejected by the one person to ever hold your young fragile heart.

“The point of the game is to kiss, right? As odd as that seems.”

“Yes, but no one can force you to do what you don’t want to do, or I won’t at least.”

“Oh,” he mouthed. You thought you saw the slightest bit of disappointment cast over his handsome face.

Was he really thinking what you thought he was? Could he possibly want to kiss you too?

It was more than you could ever hope to think that the idea even crossed his mind. It meant that he thought about you the same way you thought about him. At least in some small way, he must have held the same desire. It made your heart flutter.

“That’s probably for the best. I’ve never kissed anybody before. I don’t think I’d be good at it at any rate.”

“I’m sure you’d be a good kisser,” you said, ever the one wanting to be his encouragement even for the simplest of insecurities. When sterling grey and turquoise blue caught your eyes again, you found some courage bubbling to the surface. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I wanted to try it I suppose,” he admitted. He was hesitant, unsure of his own answer. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Shouto wasn’t good when it came to feelings. As if you were one to talk when you couldn’t even admit your own to him. But maybe, maybe, if you kissed him, it would open up a way to share your true feelings with him. At minimum, it would be better for him to have his first kiss with you instead of another girl.

“We can try,” you whispered, attempting to let your voice fall in a seductive low like you’ve seen in romance movies. You’re not sure if it came across that well, but Shouto puckered his lips and tenderly closed the distance as soon as the words left you.

The second he made contact, your heart swelled like it was going to implode the same way a supernova does, and like a collapsed star, you've been waiting what felt like billions of years for this. He was warmer than you ever imagined, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around your waist sent tingles up your spine. You didn’t think you could love him more, but the kiss proved you were addicted to him. Was this healthy? You’re not entirely sure as this is the only time you’ve been in love. It didn’t matter. You didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this to only be seven minutes. You could stay in this steamy closet with him forever.

Then, Shouto pulled away. It was way too soon for you. You wanted to kiss him more, to find out what his tongue felt like in your mouth.

“How was it?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Shouto was quiet, eyes drifting around, first from your face then to the corner of his eyes, and finally to his lap as he quietly confessed, “It was a little strange.”

That’s not what you wanted to hear. You thought the kiss was nice, perfect even. Now, your heart platooned to the pit of your stomach, forming a kernel of anxiety.

“In a bad way?” you dared to ask.

“No. It wasn’t bad…”

You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm. The only thing repeating in your head was exactly what he meant. Did he like it then? No. He didn’t look like he liked it.

“It’s hard to explain, but it was weird.” He hesitated, his lips parting and closing multiple times as he anxiously tries to find the answer. “Like…kissing my sister.”

You choked.

Sister.

Shouto thought kissing you was like kissing a sister. You could understand. You had known him since you were twelve. That’s almost like growing up together. You only wished you never found out. You rather go on wondering if he loved you than knowing he had thought of you as a sibling. It hurt, and your face twisted with overwhelming despair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“…I’m sorry,” he said softly. He wanted to take it back. His confession, the kiss, everything when he saw your face. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you reassured him as the light began to flood into the closet. You stood up, tall and proud, not letting anything slip to disapprove your calm. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine though.

None of it was. Everything was in ruin. Your feelings, your first kiss, all ruined.

“Everything is fine,” you told him when he asked again that evening.

Deep down, you had held on hope maybe someday, he would change his mind and see you in a different light since you've yet to see him take interest in any other woman romantically. His date to events was always with you, he always made time for you, he always remembered your birthday, and always smiled ever so slightly when you'd laugh. You were almost positive that day years ago was wrong, some sitcommical miscommunication; but now as you shared this table with him, you knew that you had simply been lying to yourself to protect your broken heart. That what happened in that closet wasn't simply a fluke of socially stunted teenaged emotions.

Because after this woman in the floral dress kissed him, he looks at her the way he never looked at any other woman, never looked at you. Like she was everything he ever wanted.

⇜ Chapter 1

Chapter 3 ⇝

#todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha todoroki #i write sins

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tilbageidanmark · 3 years ago

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Movies I watched this week - 39

I spent over 50 (!) hours on the sofa this week, (enjoying myself 85% of the time)...

Sløborn, an ominous Danish-German TV pandemic series, very much like Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’ and in ‘Black Mirror’ style. Normal life of a small island community between Denmark and Germany breaks down and completely collapses when it is hit by a lethal bird flue like virus.

It was extremely prescient, as it was shot in 2019, before Covid! Conceived as Si-fi, it looks today like TV, because the series was able to capture everything that happened around the world after January 2020 in accurate details.

With Roland Møller (of ‘Riders of Justice’). 7+/10

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My introduction to “The grandmother of The French New Wave”, Agnès Varda (Hard to believe that I never saw her films before!):

✳️✳️✳️ “Inspiration, Creation and Sharing...” Varda by Agnès, my first Varda is her last 2019 auto-biography, in which, at 90, she shared footage and stories from her life and work. The first sample clip (of meeting her Uncle Yanco in Sausalito) won me over, and the rest convinced me to catch up on everything I’ve missed through the years. What a wonderful artist!

✳️✳️✳️ Cléo from 5 to 7. A feminine film about female identity - a new favorite! A beautiful singer must wait 2 hours for the results of her cancer tests. With a magnifique mid-film scene (at 0;38) of the heartbreaking chanson 'Sans Toi', marking the beginning of her quiet transformation.

✳️✳️✳️ Vagabond, a story of a lonely, young woman, an unapologetic drifter, unglamorous, aimless, independent, desperately lost. Dark and nonjudgmental exploration of the refusal to conform to anything. 8+/10.

✳️✳️✳️ (For Sammy - Per our conversation). The Gleaners and I, "The eighth best documentary film of all time”, per ‘Sight & Sound poll. Derived from the famous painting by Millet. Simply wonderful!

✳️✳️✳️ One Hundred And One Nights, 100 year old Michel Piccoli “Monsieur Simon Cinema”, hires a young girl to reminisce with about the history of cinema. An unsuccessful Meta-film that nevertheless is a love letter for cinephiles. Populated by 3 dozens of Who’s Who of French (and World) stars, playacting in this symbolic, Fellinisque fable that draws upon the classics. Mastroianni, Depardieu, Belmondo, Alain Delon, Catherine Deneuve, Jeanne Moreau, Anouk Aimée, Fanny Ardant, Gina Lollobrigida, Jane Birkin, etc, etc..

(Photo Above).

✳️✳️✳️ The Young Girls of Rochefort, the wonderful, colorful, sentimental musical by Varda’s husband Jacques Demy, with the most beautiful woman in the world and her sister. Romantic eye candy set to music by Michel Legrand. A year later Deneuve would do Belle de Jour, and Françoise Dorléac would die in a car accident, 8+/10

✳️✳️✳️ Even better, The Young Girls Turn 25, Varda’s 1993 behind the scenes documentary and return to small town Rocheford, to show how it changed the town and left an impression. 9/10

“...The memory of happiness is perhaps also happiness...”

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The other Jacques Demy modern opera The Umbrellas of Cherbourg knocked me over all over again. Catherine Deneuve’s angelic beauty in this film made me cry for the duration like a baby. And not only at the train station when they say goodbye forever.

10/10

✴️

Night moves, a tense thriller by Kelly Reichardt, about three radical environmentalists who blow up an Oregon dam. Slow and tense, and like her ‘First Cow’, watching it filled me with constant, low-level anxiety. The off-screen sabotage is placed at the exact mid-point of the movie: The first half is the preparation for it, and the second half shows the aftermath of the act. 7+/10

✴️

2 unexpected Small Town gems by Miguel Arteta:

✳️✳️✳️ The good Girl, an odd and surprising mismatched romance between 30 year old Jennifer Aniston and Jake Gyllenhaal (22) as employees of a Texas big-box store that is always empty. Her voice-over reminded me of True Romance’s Alabama Whitman. 7/10

✳️✳️✳️ Ed Helms, a sheltered insurance salesman from the backwaters of Wisconsin, goes to an convention in the big city of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The nearly conventional story arc has some genuinely heartfelt funny moments. With Maeby Fünke, as Bree the prostitute and Sigourney Weaver as the ex-teacher he balls. Also a surprising drug party, where he smoke crack cocaine and loves it. 5+/10

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Same theme of people prostituting their own ‘morals’, the notoriously-prudish 1993 Indecent Proposal didn’t age too well. “Billionaire”-porn that asks the question ‘How much would you pay for one night with Robert Redford?’ Gratuitous semi-naked Demi Moore included.

Related: “Stop hitting the button!”

✴️

Wildland (Kød & blod = Flesh and blood), an uncomfortable and claustrophobic Danish gangster thriller about a 17 year old girl who moves in with the criminal family of Sidse Babett Knudsen, her estranged aunt. 6+/10

“For some people, things go wrong before they even begin”

✴️

Jim Jarmusch‘s Broken Flowers, a touching road film with Bill Murray, as an old ‘Don Juan’ who receive a pink, unsigned letter from an old lover, letting him know that he has a 20 year old son he never knew about.

Loveliest film of the week.

✴️

The 2 films directed by Tom Ford:

✳️✳️✳️ A single Man, a sad and lonely gay professor, closeted in 1962 Los Angeles, is preparing to kill himself with a gun, after his boyfriend / love of his life had died in a car accident. Mute and haunting aesthetics in the fashion designer’s debut film, based on a Christopher Isherwood novel.

The ‘Stormy Weather’ dance scene between Charley and George. 8/10

✳️✳️✳️ Nocturnal Animals: Amy Adams is an unhappy owner of a fancy art gallery who receives a disturbing book manuscript written by her ex-husband, which symbolizes their relationship 20 years prior. Rarefied visuals and distinctive style.

Starts with an astonishing scene of obese old ladies dancing naked at Amy’s gala event. Michael Shannon rules as a dying Texas detective! 6+/10.

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Jean Vigo’s 1933 classic Zero for Conduct was so blatantly anarchistic, it was immediately banned in France until after WW2. In silent film style, it tells about a group of mischievous kids who rebel against the authorities of their old-fashioned boarding school. Part-inspiration for Truffaut's 400 Blows.

✴️

Anatomy of a murder, Otto Preminger’s 1960 courtroom drama, with opening credits by Saul Bass. Crisp black & white cinematography, and with rape victim Lee Remick playing it as an outgoing loose girl of ambiguous morals, a modern floozy. 7/10.

✴️

Blush, a wondrous, spectacularly-animated, wordless short by Joe Mateo. What starts as a riff on ‘The Little Prince’, ends up like the opening montage from ‘Up’. The obvious realization that this is a personal metaphor makes the story even deeper.

I watched it twice back to back. 10/10

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If You're Not in the Obit, Eat Breakfast - 95 year old Carl Reiner asks a bunch of charming nonagenarian friends how they manage to live so well for so long. Their answers may (not) shock you...

Spry Dick Van Dyke (92) and half-his-age wife end the film with a lovely rendition of “Young at heart”

✴️

Hi-school-level adaptation of Thomas Piketty's book Capital in the 21st Century. A breezy discussion of how slave economy and colonialist military repression 300 years ago turn into extreme capitalism of inequality & tax-avoidance today. America is now similar economically to what England was in the early 1800s. A tiny percentage of society controls almost all its wealth. (Full text of the book here).

✴️

Ride the eagle, a flat new indie about a guy whose estranged hippy mother leaves him her cabin at the lake when she dies, but only if he complete a certain list of tasks. Could be so much better, but the actor playing the guy was just so terrible. Unlike JK Simmons who had a small role. Best detail, when he discovers that all the cabinets in the house are full with pot.

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Old, my first, (and possibly last), M. Night Shyamalan. The seductive premise of a secluded beach at a fancy tropical resort that ages everybody who comes there, turns into an unconvincing Twilight Zone bore.

...”(Gurgling sounds)”...

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First watch: I never saw (any) Planet of the apes before, and in spite of my misgivings, gave it a go. 100% anthropomorphic, it couldn’t visualize a universe different from the American mindset of that period. Preachy and very Rod Sterling-like. "It's a madhouse in here”. Pass!

✴️

The latest Veritasium YouTube video about bowling current technology. Always interesting.

- - - - -

Throw-back to the art project:

Planet of the Apes Adora.

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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undergrounddweller89 · 4 years ago

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(Killian lives with Walter after the movie it's au it's ooc this is after Walter was a cheeky bastard playfully smacked Killian's ass with a hair brush, previous scene is in the link above and it's strongly suggested that when Walters out he 'handles' himself on Walters bed.)

Walter had picked up his bag and run out the front door, it was a bright and sunny day, Lance was outside waiting for him, picking him up for work, something he'd started doing after their first mission.

Lance noticed that his friend was practically giddy, he wondered what had put Walter in such a good mood, well more so than usual.

Beckett was grinning ear to ear, ohmy god had he just really smacked Killian on the ass with a hairbrush!

"Sup Beckett you're looking happy, happier than usual I mean, new idea running around in that head of yours Einstein?"

Lance chuckled, as the door of his car popped open

"Yeah yeah I'm fine, you should have seen it Lance, I honestly expected him to be mad, but you know how it is sometimes someone bends over and you just gotta!"

Walter chirped talking at a hundred miles per hour as he strapped himself in.

"Whoa whoa wait what are you talking about, you hook up last night, lil old spank a rama, I know you ain't the innocent kid you've fooled half the base to be, anyone I know?"

Lance laughed as they started off, honestly the things Walter was willing to talk about and share had certainly been a surprise to him, it was one of the reasons he hadn't worried when he'd discovered Tristan was going to live at Walters.

"Nah nothing like that Lance, it was Tristan, he came in looking like, like if the sink was a person he'd have murdered it."

Sterling put the car onto auto drive and turned to look at him with a brow raised

"What does Killian wanting to kill that dripping annoyance have to do with this?"

Lance had seen these two idiots together, highly intelligent and yet they hadn't noticed, it'd been what a couple of weeks and these dumb asses didn't realise they liked each other.

"Well he offered to fix it...uh more like insisted he was going to fix it and I kinda just let him cause I'm pretty sure he'd have blown it up otherwise and-"

Walter was trying to hide the grin but failing miserably

"There was hair brush and he was bent over and the rest fell into place!"

For a moment Lance seemed to blue screen as the pieces fell into place, silence and then laughter to the point he was wheezing.

Walter continued on leaning back in his chair about to put his feet up on the dash, Sterling patted his feet a reminder that they weren't allowed on there

"You can't tell him I'm not as shy as I put out there, I want him to feel confident and relaxed, heh he thinks I don't know how to spank let's leave it that way, if he tries to seduce his way out of his conditions he'll at least then be in for a surprise."

Lance wiping at his eyes and finally catching his breath nodded

"Yeah, I get it, I know you can take care of yourself, just be careful not to humiliate him that could cause a bad snap kay."

"Please I'm not that cruel, I'll explain why I'm being somewhat timid when and if the time comes."

Beckett returned pouting that he couldn't put his feet up.

Unbeknownst to him, Killian after dealing with the sink was now looking in the mirror at the place where Walter had struck his ass with the brush, there was infact a small rise in the skin and a small smirk formed on his lips

"The kitten has claws so it would seem...hmm what else are you hiding Walter."

He bit his lip and walked off into Walters room and picked up one of his pillows, burying his nose into it, god he wanted bury his face into his hair, take in his scent, blood started rushing down south, Walter was going to be out for hours if he made a mess of the bed well...he could just lie and say laundry needed doing after all right.

#spies in disguise #tristan x walter #Killian x walter #Lance sterling #walter beckett #Killian #Tristan Mcford #Lime

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disneytva · 5 years ago

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‘The Owl House’: It’s a Hoot!

You would never think that the dark art of 15th century Dutch artist Hieronymus Bosch would serve as the inspiration for a children’s cartoon. Well, thanks to Dana Terrace and her wild imagination, the strange creatures conjured by the European painter have found their way in the new Disney Channel series The Owl House. The show, which debuts in January, and is already in production of its second season, follows the adventures of a young teenage girl named Luz who decides to pursue her dreams of becoming a witch after she stumbles into a strange realm, inhabited by feisty witch Eda and her tiny warrior friend King.

Terrace, a former director on DuckTales and storyboard artist on Gravity Falls, recalls starting to collect her notes and images and putting together her pitch for the story back in 2015. Then, she finally began pitching her story about a young girl who becomes a witch’s apprentice only a few months after she started directing DuckTales.

“Many of the characters have barely changed since then,” recalls Terrace. “I knew I wanted an older witch mentor figure and a young optimistic girl who was the main character, who learns and grows throughout the show. There’s also this trickster little jerk character named King (voiced by Gravity Falls creator Alex Hirsch).”

The setting for The Owl House changed a little bit since its early days. Terrace says for a brief time, she was toying with the idea of the whole show being set after the young character dies, so that the Owl House is all set in the afterlife. What really had a clear impact on her work is the work of artists such as Bosch, John Bauer, Remedios Varos and the puppetry of Jim Henson.

Real-Life Models

In addition to the crazy creatures of Bosch and religious illuminated manuscripts, Terrace found inspiration in some of the familiar elements in her life as well. “I have always wanted to tell a story about a rough-around-the-edges mother figure, based off of my aunt, nana and mother who raised me,” she recalls.

Terrace says the show’s central character Luz evolved from late-night conversations she used to have with her former roommate roommate and close college friend. “We were both dorks together,” she recalls. “We tried to cut our own hair and it never worked out. We didn’t have many friends. So, in a way, Luz bubbled out of our conversations. When I told her that I was going to base the main character on her, she said, ‘Yes , but you’ll have to make her Dominican.’ So that’s what happened. Luz now also works on the show as a storyboard artist and consultant, and I get to work with my best friend every day.”

As a young girl, Terrace used sneak into the living room to watch cartoons and copy what she liked in her flip books. Her love for shows such as The Simpsons, Pokémon, The PowerPuff Girls and Studio Ghibli movies finally lead her to study animation at School of Visual Arts in New York and make her way out to L.A. to pursue a career in the animation business. Her first big break happened when someone discovered her art blog and sent her a storyboarding test, which led to her landing a job at Gravity Falls and opened other doors as well.

During her big pitch to Disney, Terrace says she was a bit worried to mention Bosch and his odd, evil creatures, but to her surprise, one of the executive’s response was, “Heck, yeah!” “They have been nothing more than enthusiastic and helpful from day one,” she notes.

After spending a good year writing and making the pilot, Terrace began building her production team in 2018. Art director Ricky Cometa and supervising producer Stephen Sandoval also joined the Disney TV Animation production. At capacity, the show has about 50 staffers as part of its pre-production crew, and an overall count of 120 including the overseas teams at Sunwoo, Rough Draft and Sugarcube in Korea. We’ve been very fortunate to work with all of them,” says Terrace. “They’ve made the show really, really spark.”

The Owl House has attracted a top-notch list of vocal talent as well, including Wendie Malick as Eda, Hirsch as King and Sarah-Nicole Robles as Luz. Among the guest star lineup for the show’s first season are Matthew Rhys, Isabella Rossellini, Tati Gabrielle, Issac Ryan Brown, Mae Whitman, Bumper Robinson and Parvesh Cheena. Terrace points out that having a sterling class led by Malick has been a real treat. “Our witch could have been a very hard character to cast, because we wanted to have sass and energy, and Wendie was absolutely perfect. She came in with all her talent and experience, and my first instinct was ‘You don’t need any direction. Do whatever you want to do because you are amazing!”

She also mentions that she knew Alex Hirsch was going to end up playing the little sidekick King. “I used to hear him pitch when I worked on Gravity Falls. I knew that he can bring a lot to the characters he plays. He would also give me some helpful advice about running his own show and working at Disney.”

Art director Ricky Cometa (Steven Universe, Costume Quest) says he was swept away by Terrace’s wild ideas and spectacular imagery, things that were not usually seen in children’s animation. “The second she came in and said, ‘I want you to read this show bible. The first thing that caught my eye was ‘Bosch and the demon world?’ I very much needed help to figure out what this world looks like. We had this blank canvas and there was a lot of religious iconography. I knew we were going to push the boundaries. I mean we are doing the demon realm on the Disney Channel? You bet I’m in!”

Cometa points out that it was clear that they needed to balance the darker aspects of the witch’s world with the more light-hearted and fun components of Luz’s comical adventures. “At first, I wasn’t sure how dark we could have made the world this world that Luz jumps into initially. We had to make clear decisions about when the story needed to be scary— when do we highlight the darker moments versus when the story is lighthearted and welcoming. It was all about finding that right balance of warmth and spookiness.”

Terrace agrees. “If we made everything super scary and spooky — which is something I’m not afraid of, scaring my audience — but if we made everything the same color, then the scary parts and the day-to-day light-hearted parts wouldn’t have popped. We needed that contrast for writing purposes.”

Amazingly enough, Terrace is only the fourth woman to solely create and run an animated series for Disney — following in the footsteps of Sue Rose (Pepper Ann), Chris Nee (Doc McStuffins) and Daron Nefcy (Star vs. The Forces of Evil). She says one of her biggest challenges on the show was going through the learning process to run a writer’s room, which includes four other writers and a writer’s assistant. “Before this show I had always written and drawn my own comics and cartoons, but this was the first time I had written scripts professionally. Learning the process of writing scripts and learning to run a writers’ room was probably the biggest challenge for me. Luckily, I was with a team of talented writers, and we all kind of learned together. Most of that team has carried on to the second season, and we’re very excited to keep writing together.

As the show begins its run on Disney Channel, Terrace says that ultimately she hopes audiences will be entertained by Luz’s world and her off-the-wall adventures. “There are so many different kinds of animated shows out there and so many traditional and streaming services, that I don’t think it’s possible to have a gigantic blowout hit anymore. At the end of the day, no matter how much stuff is out there, stories with interesting core characters and relatable, understandable stories will shine through.”

#The Owl House #Owl House #Dana Terrace #Disney Channel #Ricky Cometa

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a-medvezhonok · 4 years ago

Text

Part 6 & 7 April and Sterling

I’ve combined two parts. So warning you that this is a long one.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was filled with mostly proving and baking the bread. The girls had gotten into a good routine and were already on their last loaf when Sterling’s mum came back.

-Oh, you girls are cooking up a storm. And my, it’s so lovely to see you again April- At this, she went over and pinched April’s cheek. Sterling felt like dying from embarrassment. –Hi Sterling. – The greeting came out all stiff and awkward. Sterling didn’t reply.

-Now April, I just got off the phone with your father. - Even if she did notice how both girl’s stiffened at the mention of April’s dad, she called no attention to it. – He wanted me to tell you that he and your mother are currently having a bit of a misunderstanding between each other, so it might be best if you stay the night here. There was a deathly silence from both of the girls, neither showed any expression.

- And I obviously told him you are welcome here anytime. Plus it might do Sterling some good as well. Cheer her up a bit.

-Mum!

-What? A girl’s sleepover like old times? Might be nice, watch a movie, talk about boys you like and all that.

April looked like the rug had just been pulled out from underneath her- but Mrs Wesley, I don’t have any of my things.

-Oh, I’m sure Sterling can provide you with something. How about this, whilst you girl’s clear up here, I go put the spare mattress in Sterling’s room, ready for you when it’s time for bed. – At this Sterling’s mum went upstairs.

- I.. I guess I’m staying the night then.

- I’m so sorry your dad did that to you. If you feel uncomfortable, I can totally ask Blair to sleep in my room with me, and you can have her room. I know you think she hates you, but she’ll understand.

-No, no it’s ok. I don’t need another reason for her to despise me. Plus we can handle one night, It’s just like old times, right? - At this, she looked up at Sterling, worry written all across her face.

-Yeah, one night. Won’t be hard. Just like old times.

April seemed out of it, her eyes glossed over when she mumbled – it’s just a sleepover, a sleepover where we talk about boys.

They spent the rest of their baking and cleaning up in silence, slightly dreading what was to come. It was one thing being alone together during the day, but during the night, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

After finishing clearing up they went upstairs and Sterling found some clothes for April to wear as well as a spare toothbrush. When April came back from the bathroom after having changed, Sterling did not expect the sudden jolt it did to her heart to see April in her clothes.

-You look good.

-Oh haha, mock me all you want, it’s your own terrible fashion sense.

-No, I meant it serious…. You know what, never mind. Ummm.. Now what? Do we watch a movie?

- I don’t know, I’m quite tired after today.

- Oh yeah, totally, me too.

April laid down on the floor mattress. Sterling was left in the weird position of sitting on the bed looking over her.

-Sterl?

-Yeah?

-What’s going on with you and your mum?... I mean you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But if I can help in any way I -

-Well for starters turns out she’s not actually my mum.

April suddenly sat bolt upright – What? – With anyone else who could have told her something like that, she would have doubted them. But she knew how much Sterling hated lying, and she would have no reason to not tell the truth.

-Yeah turns out she has an identical twin, who abducted me by the way, but that twin is my real mum, and Blair isn’t...- she couldn’t finish the sentence. After taking a deep breath she kept going – she’s not my twin sister, she’s my cousin.

Sterling felt like a damn that had just been broken, everything started gushing out. As she was explaining what had happened, April sat up onto the bed next to Sterling, hand on thigh listening intently. As soon as Sterling couldn’t hold herself together anymore and the tears started pouring, April wrapped her into a tight embrace, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. She whispered to her, whilst Sterling buried her face in April’s neck.

-Oh Sterl, I am so sorry. I know it must feel like you have lost a family, but they are still there, they are still your family. Blair is still your sister. Maybe not biologically speaking, but you have lived your lives together as sisters – She gently pushes Sterling out so she can look into her eyes. –So you are still sisters. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Blair entered without waiting for a reply. – Hey, you’ll never guess what ha- She stopped dead in her track. – April?! Sterling quickly wiped away her tears. – Yeah her dad kind of didn’t give her a choice but to stay the night here, so be nice.- Blair didn’t respond, which for April’s standards was her being nice.

-Oookay, are you alright?

- Yeah, was just explaining what had happened, that’s all, nothing new. Are you ok?

-Yeah, yeah, well as long as you are ok, if you need anything let me know. And I can tell you about what happened tonight whenever I see you tomorrow. Love you, night.

-Love you too- at this Blair smiled sadly and closed the door.

April suddenly breathed out as if she had been holding her breath the entire time. -She didn’t throw me out of the window, so I guess that’s progress, she likes me now.

-Yeah next thing you know you’ll be sitting on her bed, consoling her tears. - They both laughed.

-But thanks for telling me about your family, I know how hard it is to talk about that kind of thing. I’m sorry if I forced it out of you.

-No, no. It’s ok. Its nice telling someone outside of the family, who isn’t as wrapped into all of it.

-I smell like you. – Sterling looked confused at the sudden topic change. April picked at the t-shirt she was wearing.

-Really? Because I can definitely smell you.

-Aww thanks, are you saying I need to shower?

-No,-

-I know, I was just poking fun – April’s eyes were so gentle looking.

-I can smell your hair.-As soon as Sterling said it she instantly regretted it.

-No Dorito this time? –Sterling was grateful for April’s save.

-Yeah just full Mexican restaurant in there, I think there’s a burrito tucked behind your ear. – At this Sterling as part of the bit reached out behind April’s ear, but the other girl flinched, and Sterling retracted her hand and apologised.

-Sorry

-No, I’m sorry.

April put her head in her hands. – How are we going to survive tonight?

-We could use it as an opportunity, there’s no one in this room who could potentially tell on us.

-I can’t say goodbye again, it’s too hard.

At this Sterling replied in a dejected tone. – Yeah, I don’t think I can be told goodbye to again either.

-I’m sorry I put you through that. -April looked down.

-Ok, hear me out. How about we just cuddle, you know as friends do, no kissing. Just good old fashioned Christian cuddling.

-Not a thing.

-Well, we can always be pioneers.

April looked so tired. She got onto her own mattress. And turned away from Sterling.

-Goodnight Sterl.

Sterling turned off the light.

-Sleep tight Apri.

-Don’t make Apri a thing, it’s not a thing.

-Ok, goodnight Ape.

-You somehow made it worse.

Sterling looked up at the ceiling.-I always do.

Part 7

Sterling just started to drift off to sleep, when she heard the faintest:

-Are you still awake?

-Yeah, why? - mumbled Sterling.

-Can you move your arm?

Sterling was too drowsy to fully understand the instructions.

-Huh?

-Can you please move your arm it’s … distracting. – Sterling was lying stomach down while her arm was hanging off the edge of her bed.

-Distracting?- Asked Sterling as she moved her arm.

-I couldn’t sleep, all I could think about was touching it. - Suddenly Sterling was wide awake.

-Oh, I mean you can do that if you want to - She let her hand hang off the side again. It stayed there for a few moments until Sterling felt something brush against her fingers, she flinched instinctually.

-Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. – April sounded so dejected, her voice barely audible in the silence.

-No, it’s ok. How about now- Sterling moved her positioning further to the edge of the side of the bed so that she could just about see April in the dark. She saw April’s hand move this time and managed not to flinch when it touched hers. April’s hand was slowly working around Sterling’s as if trying to memorise the feel of every line. Sterling knew it sounded awkward, but she couldn’t help but say –Your hands are so soft.

April chuckled. – I like your hands too. They’re surprisingly elegant.

Sterling was grinning – Of course, you had to throw in the “surprising”, couldn’t let me just have that one could you.

-Surprise is good. You surprise me in lots of ways Sterling Wesley.

If Sterling thought that it was difficult when April called her “Sterl” she now realised that paled in comparison to hearing her full name on April’s lips.

-I surprise you?

-Yeah, you do actually. - Suddenly April was kneeling next to the bed.

-Do you want to come up here? - Sterling patted the space next to her.

-You really think that’s a good idea?

-If you don’t, I might have to join you on the floor. Although actually, how about you stay creepily kneeling at the edge of my bed, and I’ll just go to sleep whilst you stare at me. That works too.

-Fine, scooch over.

-Really?

-Yes, before I change my mind.

Sterling quickly moved up so as to allow room for April, who had already made herself comfortable under the covers. They had left a gap between them, but April had found Sterling's hand again and was holding it as they lay there looking at each other.

-Can I ask you a question? asked April tentatively.

-Yes, anything.

-Why did you kiss me? - Sterling felt like she had just been shot with an electric current.

-What do you mean?

-I’m not sure, never mind forget it.- As April was second-guessing her question she started to move away and remove her hand, but Sterling held onto it, pulling her back.

-I kissed you because I liked you. You started talking about people needing to tell the truth, and I felt like I was going to explode. So I kissed you. - April didn’t say anything for a while.

-Can I ask you another question?

-Only if I then get to ask you one.

-Deal.

-Ok go ahead.

-When did you know?

-Know what?

- Don’t make this harder for me, you know what. When did you know that you.. umm wanted to kiss me? That the idea crossed your mind.

Sterling felt her whole body go red and numb, she was relieved that it was too dark for April to see how flushed she must have looked.

-Oh, I definitely can’t tell you that, it’s too embarrassing.

-Embarrassing? – As April was asking she was edging closer to Sterling.

-Yeah, there’s no way in hell I am telling you that.

-You won’t get a chance to ask me a question back in return. –April teased Sterling.

- I’m okay with that.

-Really? You find it that mortifying? Was it when I had the Dorito in my hair? That snack really did it for you huh?

-I was actually already into you then.

-Really? Because I was trying to trace when I had noticed a shift in your behaviour, and yeah it was around the Solomon’s temple time. Although you were already acting strange at the debate an-

-Please stop.

-Ooh am I close? Was it at the debate? Did my kayaking and swimming to shore story awaken something deep within you? - As April said the word “deep” she grabbed Sterling’s upper arm. That was the last straw for Sterling.

Either to stop herself from screaming or to shut April up, she climbed on top of April and bent down to whisper in her ear.

-If you don’t drop this topic right now, I will hurt you, either emotionally or physically, I’m not sure yet. But you will be hurt

Unfortunately, the reaction this got from April was for her to get that mischievous look in her eye, which could only mean bad things for Sterling. She quickly found out what those bad things were. April flipped her over onto her back and grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her, whilst April held her there, straddled on top of her, she whispered back in the blonde’s ear.

-I really wouldn’t advise you to make those kinds of threats to me. - At this she sat back up, looking down on Sterling. - Honey. - The air seemed to be crackling between them. Sterling was worried where this would go if she didn’t back down.

-Okay, fine, you win. You can let go now, even if you do play dirty. – April clambered off of Sterling’s hips, but this time when lying back down, instead of leaving a gap between them she snuggled up to Sterling, placing her face at about Sterling’s neck, wrapping her legs around Sterling. As April spoke Sterling could feel her voice vibrations against her own neck. It made her toes all tingly.

-Well, you’re the one who started it.

-Actually you did, with your questions.

- That’s a good point. You should take up debating, you’d be really good at it. - Both girls laughed. It was one thing to hear each other’s laughs, but both girls were in awe at what it was like to actually feel each other laugh with their bodies so entangled.

-Good night Sterl.

-Good night April, and for real this time. Don’t go waking me up about some stray arm.

-Sure.

-Promise?

-Promise.

They finally fell asleep, in an embrace, each heartbeat feeding off the other.

#teenage bounty hunters #april sterling #stepril #sterling wesley #sterling x april #always welcome to comments just saying

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waywardodysseys · 5 years ago

Text

Victory - Oneshot

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Warnings: cussing, teasing

Requested?: Yes from this ask by @bloggerchic14 - I was hoping if you can do one where reader is nominated for best director at the Oscars and she didn’t expect to win but when she does ends up in shock and Pedro ends up walking up stage with her. They then end up at the Vanity fair party and reader parties hard and teases Pedro. Thank you ☺️

Author’s note: none

~ ~ ~

You’re jittery as you sit in the limo. You breathe in and out trying to calm your nerves. Your hands running over the simple black strapless gown you are wearing.

The man sitting next to you places his hand on your arm, trying to calm you.

“We haven’t even walked the red carpet,” your dad whispers.

You swallow, “you aren’t the one nominated for an award. Talk is I could win. I won at the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs – which was still surprising, the Critics’ Choice Awards. An Oscar would complete the shelf of the other awards.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, “they aren’t on a shelf. You use them as bookends or paperweights.”

You shrug and laugh, “you know what I mean.”

You had taken a family member or a close friend as your date to each awards show. You took your mother to the Golden Globes (your mom nearly fainted when she met Tom Hanks), your best friend to the BAFTAs (this included a well-deserved girls trip), your sibling to the Critics’ Choice Awards (which they found dull, but they got to meet their celebrity crush), and your father’s now going with you to the Oscars.

Your father and mother had bickered about what awards show they would attend with you. You had picked the Golden Globes and the Oscars for them because those award shows meant the most to you.

They eventually drew straws. Your mother getting the Golden Globes, and your father getting the Oscars.

You knew they couldn’t be more prouder of you when you had told them you had been nominated for directing your first movie.

“We’re ecstatic for you honey!”

“Over the moon!”

“Proud of our baby girl!”

“We knew you could do it!”

They both had exclaimed when you called them to tell them the news of each nomination.

Now with three awards under your belt you were ready to claim the fourth but also feared you weren’t going to get it. You’re up against some big names – Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, and David Lynch. You are the newcomer, the first timer. It would be a rarity for the Academy to award you when they could easily go with an oldie tried and true person who has been directing nearly their entire life.

The door opens and your father looks at you, “ready?”

You smile weakly, “I guess. Let’s do this.”

-------

Inside the Dolby Theatre celebrities are mingling as you and your father are escorted down one of the many aisles towards your seats. The usher pauses at the fifth row up from the stage.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the usher smiles, “here are your two seats. Enjoy!”

“Thank you kindly,” your father remarks as the usher disappears.

You breathe a sigh of relief at being on the aisle. You didn’t want to parade down an entire row of people in case your name was called when they announced the winner.

Several people were familiar to you as you looked around, most of them your cast. They all greeted you with smiles and hugs.

Sarah Paulson pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I’m betting big on you tonight,” Sarah whispers as she pulls away.

“Please don’t tell me that!” You laugh.

“They’d be wrong not to give you the damn award. You’re the first female director to be nominated in a few years and your first nomination ever!” Sarah retorts.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply as the lights begin to dim and brighten which indicated five minutes to show time, “no Holland?”

“She’s working. I brought Pedro,” Sarah looks around the theatre, “he’s here somewhere. Hopefully he’s here before the show begins.”

Right before the orchestra begins playing you hear a light “excuse me” from beside your father, who took the aisle seat.

Your father stands then you do.

The man nods at your father, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your father whispers as he sits.

The man then looks at you and smiles, “thank you.”

You nod your head and smile in return. You hadn’t met Pedro Pascal prior to this evening. He was someone you were wanting to work with because of seeing him in Narcos. Sarah had even praised him when you two were discussing your next movie one day.

“Pedro would be fantastic!” Sarah had exclaimed.

“I’ve seen his work in Narcos, nothing else.” You had remarked.

“He’s versatile. Done plenty of stage work, movies, T.V. shows. If you are wanting to do a modern reimagining of The Lady Eve, I think you should reach out to Pedro’s people. You won’t regret it.” She had leaned in and whispered, “he loves that movie. One of his faves.”

Now you glance at Sarah as you take a seat. She gives you a sly smile. You know she remembers your conversation as well. She wants you to meet Pedro and show you he deserves to be directed by you.

“Pedro this is Y/N,” Sarah remarks a couple of hours into the show.

Pedro smiles at you and holds out his hand, “I know who she is Sarah. Yet I haven’t met her.”

You take his hand and shake it. “Nice to meet you Pedro.”

“She wants to direct a modern reimagining of The Lady Eve,” Sarah implies with a smile towards you.

Pedro turns his dark brown eyes to you. Their opened wide and his face is a look of seriousness. “Really?”

You blush and smile, “yes.”

“How would you tell it?”

“I’m thinking of having the man play the con artist,” you reply.

“Are you working on a script? Or have someone working on one?” Pedro asks eagerly.

You laugh, “Phoebe Waller-Bridge and I are working on a script together.”

“I’d love to read it! Even audition!” Pedro smiles widely.

You glance at him, “I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Oh, come on!” Pedro laughs.

“Y/N,” your father whispers, “your category is up next.”

Right, you think as your heart begins pounding loudly inside of your chest.

Pedro squeezes your hand and whispers, “good luck.”

You smile in return then move your eyes to the stage.

Natalie Portman smiles brightly for the camera as she reads the teleprompter, “the nominees for best director are: David Lynch, Y/F/N Y/L/N, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino.”

Your eyes are on the screen as small clips from each of the movies are played. You shrink in your seat as you watch a cameraman kneel beside your row and place the lens on you.

“You’re okay,” your father whispers as he leans over, “breathe.”

You try but you know one of the men will get it. They’ll go with the tried and true who have won before. Not the debut director, not the newcomer.

“The Oscar goes to,” a pause as the envelope is opened, “wow! The Oscar goes to Y/F/N Y/L/N!”

Natalie Portman said my name, you think as tears flood your eyes. My name? My name!

Everyone around you stands and applauds. The whole theatre stands to their feet and applauds.

Your father leans down and touches your shoulder.

“You have to go get it,” he says with a smirk.

You nod as you stand.

Sarah’s right there and embraces you tightly, “told you!”

Pedro’s pushed back against his folded seat as he lets Sarah hug you. He winks at you as you pull away from Sarah and turn towards the aisle.

The thundering applause fills your ears as you begin to take a step up the stairs towards Natalie and the Oscar. You’re focused on making sure you don’t trip yet you do.

You laugh as you sit up and smile. Pedro’s right there with a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers in return.

He tries to let your hand go but you’re gripping it tightly. Your nerves are getting the best of you.

Pedro smiles as he hooks your hand in the crook of his arm. He guides you up the remaining stairs, escorting you towards Natalie and the microphone. The Oscar statue you are about to claim as yours.

Once Natalie embraces you and hands you the award, Pedro takes a step back and lets you have the spotlight. The applause dies down as people take their seats and you wring your hands around the Oscar you now have in your possession.

You wipe at your tears, “Um, there’s so many to thank. I apologize beforehand if I forget anyone,” you pause, “I’d like to thank the Academy. Paramount Studios for taking a chance on me and this movie I love. Plan B productions for a chance as well. The amazing crew I was placed with, thank you. My wonderful cast – Hugh Laurie, Katie Holmes, Emily Blunt, Sterling K. Brown, and Sarah Paulson. Thank you. As well as to the other amazing cast members I appreciate you all. To my close friends and my dear family I can never thank you enough for loving me for me, and supporting me for when I wanted to come out here and start directing. From T.V. shows to the big screen, directing will always be my passion. To all the girls out there wanting to direct, take a chance and follow your dreams, follow your heart. I will be your biggest supporter.” You smile widely and raise the Oscar in the air, “thank you again!”

The entire theatre erupts in applause as you walk off the stage with Natalie and Pedro.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as Natalie releases you from the hug she gave you once you were in line to make your way to the media room.

“Congrats again!” She smiles.

“Thanks,” you smile in return.

Your eyes watch her walk away then land on Pedro who was stopped by Kit Harrington. You had hoped you’d be able to talk to him more. You wanted to talk to him more. You wanted to thank him properly for being there to help you up the stairs.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Someone with a headset on their head draws your face back around.

You hum and raise a brow.

“The press is ready.”

You smile, “thanks.”

The person opens the curtain and the cameras start flashing as you walk in. You take one glance back at Pedro hoping he’s going to the same after party as you are.

-------

The Vanity Fair after party is in full swing after the limo driver took your father home. He didn’t want to spend all night out on the town, which you preferred because you were going to party hard for as long as you could before returning in the wee hours of the night. And there was someone you needed to cross paths with again – Pedro.

Inside you are swarmed by actors and actresses congratulating you, wanting to know what you’re doing next, wondering if they could give you a call about auditioning for anything you do in the future. They give you glasses of champagne. Toasting you over abundantly, making you sip on the frothy and bubbly liquid. It’s all overwhelming until you feel a hand grasp yours and pull you away.

“Give her a chance to breathe!” Sarah nearly shouts as she drags you away from the horde of people.

You giggle as Sarah pulls you away and into a corner. She swipes two glasses of champagne off a tray from a passing by waiter.

Sarah clinks her glass to yours, “congrats!”

“Thanks,” you smile not bothering to take a sip. “I’ve had too much of this.”

“Understandable,” Sarah pauses as she gulps down her glass then takes yours, “so, Academy Award winner director Y/F/N Y/L/N directing a remake of The Lady Eve starring Pedro Pascal…”

You giggle, “where is he by the way?”

“Oh, your rescuer?” Sarah giggles loudly. She’s had a little too much alcohol already. “He’s here somewhere. He saw you trip, and zoom did he go to rescue you. When he got back to the seat I whispered, ‘her dad’s right there Pedro.’”

“What was his reaction?”

“’Well at least I scored brownie points with him.’” Sarah laughs.

You giggle as the alcohol courses through your veins. You place a hand on your stomach when it growls. You realize it’s empty, and you’re starving.

“Is there food here?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Yeah but it’s mostly finger foods,” Sarah smiles, “here he is!”

Pedro smiles as he hands Sarah a napkin, “food.”

“Share with the lady,” Sarah points at you as she swallows a couple of cheese cubes.

Pedro smiles at you and holds out another napkin. It’s filled with cheese cubes, crackers, even a chocolate covered strawberry.

“Hey,” Pedro pouts, “the strawberry was mine!”

You smile as you bite a small piece, “have the rest.”

“You may the whole thing. It’s not like I fought a swarm of people to get just one!”

You finish the decadent dessert. Not sure if it’s the alcohol or not, you lean over and brush your lips across his.

Pedro inwardly moans as he tastes the chocolate strawberry on your lips. He swipes his tongue across your lips. He tastes the champagne once you let him in.

You pull back breathlessly and look into Pedro’s deep brown eyes. “I, uh, I…”

Pedro smiles, reaches out, and runs a finger down your cheek, “it’s okay.”

Sarah is able to tell she’s no longer needed. “I’m gonna leave you two to it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” you and Pedro say in unison. His eyes and your eyes are one another.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” you say after seconds of silence.

Pedro grins lopsidedly, “you’re welcome. I do hope at least it scored me some brownie points.”

“Why?”

“I want to be a part of The Lady Eve.”

“Script’s not done. And I’m currently working with Netflix on a series.”

“I’d like to be forefront and center when you go to producers. Tell them Pedro Pascal needs to be in this movie, will be in this movie,” he remarks with a laugh.

“Are you desperate for a role where one sees your face?” You ask.

Pedro raises an eyebrow, “I was informed you’ve only seen Narcos from my long resume.”

“I see you and Sarah have talked.”

Pedro shrugs, “I inquired about you on the way here. She’s the one who worked with you. She even raved about you while you were filming. Said you were extremely kind and knew what you were doing, what you wanted and needed from the cast and crew.”

“Glad to know at least one person likes me,” you jokingly laugh.

“Everyone likes you Y/N,” Pedro remarks. “You’re kind, sweet. A great kisser.”

You inwardly laugh then run your hand up Pedro’s arm. “You’re too kind Pedro, too sweet.”

Pedro holds in his moan as your hand runs up his arm then over his chest and down his stomach.

You lean forward and brush your mouth against his. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, deepening the kiss. You moan as his hands travel up and down your back, occasionally touching your bare skin.

Heat rises in your body as you move your hands across his shoulders down his chest. You finally loop them around his neck and run your fingers through his hair.

Pedro pulls faintly away. He looks into your Y/E/C eyes. He leans down and nuzzles your neck. Your skin is delicate and warm.

“Pedro,” you moan lowly as his mustache tickles your skin.

You snake a hand down his chest. You run it teasingly over his crotch and find him hard.

Fuck, your mind screams as pleasure intensifies inside of you.

Pedro hisses as he pulls back, “you’re a tease too. A wicked tease.”

“You are too Pedro,” you remark as you press your body against his.

You want Pedro, need Pedro. Your body is aching to have his mouth and hands all over it.

You would never have the courage to be this blunt, but with the alcohol pumping through your veins you do. You look at Pedro in seriousness, “please get me out of here Pedro. I need you in more ways than one. If you know—”

Pedro kisses you soundly and grabs your hand as he pulls you towards the exit, “I know what you mean Y/N. I want to get us both out of here so we’re able to enjoy each other fully especially with our clothes off.”

You knew this was going to be a night you’d never forget – you won your Oscar, and you had the ultimate lap of victory when you and Pedro finally made it into his bed - sans clothes.

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @cosmo-bear, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @knight-of-heart44, @caitlincat-95, @random066, @readsalot73, @arrowswithwifi, @halefirewarrior, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @stardust-and-starlight, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @longitud-de-onda, @jokersdoll, @earl-01, @ezraslittlebirdie, @bonkybaaarnes

#victory oneshot #request #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #oneshot #sarah paulson #oscars

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Moon

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 2959

———————

The queens first found her outside in their backyard seven months after their reincarnation. It was the middle of the night, they were watching a movie, and the full moon was out, bathing the city in hues of sterling and glimmering grey. And there, in their backyard, stood a naked girl with her head towards the glittering black sky.

She was paler than any person they’ve ever seen, as if the moonbeams had zapped all the color out of her skin and then bleached her with its own light. Her hair was the color of washed out gold, with only a few brown roots weakly reaching out from her scalp. If you were to cut open her wrists, they were sure her blood would come out silver.

The queens watched her from the windows and back door for a long time. They theorized that this girl was another reincarnate, but they had all been clothed when they came back, along with the ladies in waiting. Plus, it had been raining and day time. The night was clear with not a single cloud in sight.

Where had she come from? Who was she? What did she want?

So many questions ran through their mind, but only one thing kept blaring in Kitty’s over and over and over again.

Monster.

The girl outside doesn’t move. She just stays very still and keeps her head angled up to the moon. Rays of light were cascading down her back and rear and legs like a silver and white waterfall, painting her entire bare body with the essence of the night.

“Should we call the police?” Cathy asked nervously. Her hands were winding in the hem of her shirt like they did when she was worrying over something.

“She is trespassing,” Cleves agreed.

“No, wait,” Aragon said. “She isn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Aside from being naked on our property,” Jane muttered under her breath.

“I’ll go see what she wants.” Aragon said.

The others protested, but she assured them everything would be fine. However, she still brought a kitchen knife outside with her just to make them feel a little better.

Slowly, so slowly, Aragon crept up to the stranger. When she got closer, she could see the moonlight dripping into her skin, sinking into her back, melting into her chest. The others might not have known yet, but Aragon knew just looking at this girl—she was moonborn, called out only by the power of the moon.

That word, moonborn, made no sense to Aragon at the time. She had never heard of such a thing before and it sounded like a silly title pulled right out of a children’s tale, but something in her head told her it was important. It was important, but it would soon become the cause of great pain nobody would ever be able to fathom.

Aragon took another step forward and gently touched the girl’s shoulder; her skin was as cold as ice.

“Hello?” She called out. “Who are you?”

The girl shuddered under her hand. She turned around very slowly and Aragon gasped at the silver moons that blinked back at her.

———

The moon child asks to be called “Joan.”

It is difficult to communicate this at first, but then Aragon allows her to write it. Even when the color she chooses is bright chartreuse rather than the standard black, she doesn’t stop her. She’s been allowing her much recently.

———

Music is not a foreign thing to the moon child, although she was always lost in a tangle of thoughts and objectives. It‘s easy for chattering and scratching and flipping of parchment to drown out a melody, but it‘s easier for a weary body to absorb it.

It’s not the moon. It does not heal; it doesn’t even provide the respite that a bed does. But it is soothing, and it makes a rumble of something warm rise in her chest.

(She likes to rumble and trill and coo along to music, not really singing, not really vocalizing, but just following with soft noises of her own.

Kitty called it “alien speak.”

She stopped soon after that.)

For that, it is enough. Joan bows her head in gratitude after every rehearsal, thanking whoever was singing for the moment of peace. Sometimes she says it out loud, in her weak, creaky lunar voice. Other times she just smiles gratefully.

Aragon and Anne don’t seem to mind her silence. The moon child thinks they might even like her, just as she likes them and their songs. Even when the dark matter of Joan’s being weeps through the cuts in her skin and her bow is more akin to a slump, they still sing to her, even though she cannot answer their concerned glances.

But Kitty and Jane think she’s broken.

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Jane would ask, pleasantly pretending like she wasn’t in earshot. “We all spoke pretty easily after reincarnation. It’s been a month and she’s spoken, what ten words? But for some reason, she can learn several songs on a piano easier instead?”

“I don’t think we left her out in the moonlight for long enough,” Kitty would titter, and she would know that Joan was nearby. That’s why she said those things—to make her feel bad. “Or maybe aliens aren’t just suited for life on earth.”

Joan starts talking more, after that. She says things like a normal person and not a reincarnated lady in waiting from five hundred years ago that was strangely born from the moon. She acts normal, acts how she should, and acts the way people want her to be.

———

The moon child understands how goodbyes feel now, even if she’s not accompanied by a headless corpse or a weeping mother that’s foaming at the mouth.

Beyond that, she understands what it means to be taken by something, be it sickness, or power, or fear. Or grief. That one, too, will make you its own. That one especially.

Is her entire being not proof of that?

In the end, it is not just the river’s waters lapping at lonely London shores, having foreshadowed this weight. It is not just the mist of essence fading in the place of a friend. It is not just her mother and father, warping and vanishing in a strange, confusing dance. Not just her queen that bore a gown as silver as her eyes, resisting in the face of her own realization that the lunar being belonged to her more than the hot pink fiend. Not just the moons that gave her life.

It is so much more.

It is everything she cannot have and everything she does not want to do. It is frustration and selfishness and bitterness. It is want.

The moon child wants so badly. She wanted for her brother, and so she took what she could of what he gave, and built herself a name out of a throwaway title. She wants so badly for more of him, even if it means fighting. She wants back the little moments of closeness with anyone at all, moments she hadn’t thought to hold onto back when she was still under the illusion that she could keep them, keeping getting more of them.

How easy would it be, to solve things without just the cry of a voice if she hadn’t been destined to be silent and unloved?

How much easier, to bring life to fading hope and provide friendship for others? For herself?

She wants painfully for the small things like the shinier markers at the store, like the odd affectionate touches John used to give the top of her head. Like Aragon’s humming or Anne’s hugs or Jane’s forehead kisses or being one of the players in the theater games Cleves will start up or someone that inspires Cathy to create a character after her in one of her books. She even wants to get one of Kitty’s weird head bumps just to know she was important enough to receive one. She wants to hang out with Anne and Aragon more often because they tell stories and she likes that, and she wants the other ladies to accept her as one of them and not shun her as a creature of night that just so happens to know how to play piano.

But just as with the rising of the sun, none of this want means anything at all.

———

This much is clear: the moon child is a being of wanting. And she is regret, too, born of night and darkness, tucked and shaped into a frame too small to hold all this need. It is no surprise when the hairline fractures grow into cracks, nor when the cracks widen into gaping holes where the flesh has begun to collapse.

Joan is collapsing.

———

It gets easier to speak and act like everyone else as the days go by, but the jealousy and longing grows with it. She’s talking normally, but she’s envious all the time. She laughs and smiles and does everything as she should, but she’s always itching for affection.

The moon child begins to do things. Not bad things, just—things. Painting, for one. She thinks that if she makes presents for people then they’ll start to like her more, and it works for awhile, but then everyone just gets used to her offerings. Nobody hangs them up, unlike the art of fans, which get to be put up regally on bulletin boards and the sides of mirrors and on tables. Jane and Cathy even had their Instagram profile pictures as drawings some fans made for them.

But all of Joan’s paintings and sketches and colorings were pushed aside, tucked away inside drawers and crumpled up in purses to rot away into nothingness.

Nothing. That’s all they’ll ever be. And it’s all she’ll even be, too.

———

A bassist was sitting by one of the windows, staring dejectedly at the rain droplets pattering on the glass. The moon child notices when she’s making copies of some sheet music. When the bassist notices the moon eyes drilling into her, she turns away from them.

“Go away, Joan. Allow me to wallow in my own misery in peace.” She mutters harshly.

Joan would have left, if it weren’t for a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her to stay. She stands right where she was. Bessie raises her head.

“What are you doing? Leave. Go away. I have nothing for you. Go back to your music director business or whatever. Chase after Jane for the hundredth time for all I care. Just leave me alone.”

There was another job to be done, but Joan wasn’t sure what it was exactly. Bessie just repeated for her to leave the longer she stood. Again. Again and again and again. When the moon eyes refused to move, the bassist’s voice got increasingly more frustrated.

“Do I have to escort you out myself?” She hisses, standing and glaring deep into those pools of liquid silver.

Joan shook her head.

“Then what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t know.

“Let me be depressed in peace!”

Still there.

“Do you not understand what I’m saying?” Bessie opens her hands like they were claws.

Joan still stares at her.

“I am not going to fight you, if that is what you are looking for. This is hardly an appropriate place.”

Joan wasn’t looking for a fight. No, there is something else.

“If you are looking to gloat, just get it over with already!”

She isn’t there to gloat.

Even when Bessie drew her arm back, she still did not leave.

“Why are you still here?! It’s not like you care!” Bessie yells, flinging something nearby—a picture frame. It barely brushes Joan’s arm, and explodes into a cloud of glass against the wall.

Bessie was prone to aggressiveness and anger, but she would never attack so sloppily and so carelessly.

She wasn’t herself.

“Get…get out of here…”

Bessie’s voice cracks, crumpling to her knees. She hunches over on herself taking in a shuddering breath. Her shoulders began trembling as her entire frame was wracked with irregular shaking. High-pitched sobs emanate from her.

She wasn’t okay.

Joan took a small step forward. She wasn’t like Bessie, but maybe she could be like her for a little bit. There was quite a noticeable size difference between the two, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

Joan kneels behind her, wrapping her arms around the bassist. She felt Bessie freeze up, breath hitching for a second. She squeezes a little, rests her chin on the older musician’s shoulder, and closes her glittering eyes.

A hug. Would that make her happier?

The sobs became quieter. Joan remains crouched and hugs her, letting her grieve. She wants to say something, anything that might bring her more comfort, but the most she could do is hug her a little more and hope that it brought her some happiness like it did long ago.

After an unknown amount of time, she finally stops, slowly pulling back.

“Joan…?”

Joan responds in that silent way of hers, tipping her head in a form of recognition.

“Why did you do that…?”

“Affection makes people happier.” Joan verbally answers. She wants to ask if she was happier.

“You know...people—Jane and Kitty— said you’re just an empty monster...you’re supposed to leave. You’re not supposed to care.” Bessie mumbles, head hanging down. “You’re not supposed to care about anyone…so why did you stay? Why did you hug me? Why me? Why? I just-“

A tear was dripping down her left cheek, almost as silver as those moon eyes staring down at her with so much concern and longing. She rears back when Joan tries to touch her again.

“You’re not a monster, are you…?” Bessie whispers. Joan stares back in silence. “You’re not a monster at all. You’re none of those things. You’re...you’re good.”

———

“I know you're angry-” Jane was saying to the creature of night after yet another painful rejection. “But with how you were created-”

“Born.” The moon eyes burn. “I was born. And I've committed no crime by existing.”

———

Anne watches the moon child sitting at her side. She had come over to the queen’s house for a reason she couldn’t quite remember, but was now stuck inside due to a raging blizzard. She sat on the couch in the living room, on the opposite end of Anne, like she was afraid her presence would taint the queen with an infectious black matter.

What did she want?

The moon child brought her legs up and folded them against her chest slowly, as if through water, her joints stiff.

“It’d be better if I weren’t here.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

That made Anne blink. “Of course not.”

“You hesitated.” She brought her face close to her knees, letting her too light hair fall over her too shiny eyes.

Stop doing that. Stop reaching out and then pulling away. Can’t you see I’ll do anything you want, if you’d just tell me what that is? What do you want?

Anne lifts her head a few inches, stretching out the sore spots in her neck.

“Joan, come here.”

Joan remained curled into herself.

“I will not ask again.”

That seemed to work better. Joan shifts sideways, drawing closer to her former queen. Her shoulders jolted a little as Anne wrapped an arm around them, pulling the two against each other. And then, she was tugging the awkwardly scrawny and small moon child into her lap.

(Where she belonged.)

“I will protect you,” She chose her words carefully. “To the best of my ability.”

That didn’t seem like a good place to leave off. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I can’t be everything you want,” She continued, softer. “I can’t be Jane. But I’m here. And I want to take care of you, darling.”

She watched Joan’s head on her chest rise and fall with her breaths. A few beats pass before a small hiccup sounded from the lunar girl.

There were a few more hiccups that built up before they erupted into sobs, Joan’s shoulders heaving as they wracked through her. Loud whimpers and whines filled the air as Anne ran her fingers through the thick blonde tangles, rocking the poor, lonely moon child in her arms.

Joan cries steadily, head buried in her chest. Anne realizes that she didn’t even mind that a mess was being made down the front of her shirt.

Eventually the cries settle down, mixing together with the dull white noise of the television before fading off. Joan calms in her arms, snuggled up nicely, and it only gets better when Aragon joins their cuddle on the couch. Both queens hold the moon child, not caring about what anyone had ever said about her being wrong or weird or messed up compared to the other reincarnates. To them, she was perfect.

Their love filled Joan like the moonlight did. She had never felt anything so wonderful. She fit perfectly in their arms, like she had always belonged there.

And then, there was the gawker by the staircase. Joan could feel Kitty’s congealing resentment even from a distance. She could also feel Aragon and Anne’s love again, already half detached from everyone else, including the youngest of the bunch—Anne’s baby cousin. But Anne was just ready to give all her love to the moonborn pianist, not a distant family member born of daytime and rain.

Sorry, Katherine, Joan thought, settling back into the warmth and affection. Out there is my moon. And these are my mothers. And you will never be a part of that world.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #six fanfiction #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #joan on the keys #bessie on the bass #nana boleyn #mamagon #baby moon

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years ago

Text

Banished (Part 15)

*Not my Gif*

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 9-14-19

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Sorry it’s late!

~Banished Master List~

~Master Lists~

Based off episode 2x02 of the 100 “ Inclement Weather”

You followed the man throughout the building, taking in your new surroundings. This wasn’t normal, people don’t just almost die then wake up in white room in a new place. You were worried. What if they weren’t here? What if he isn’t here? You were in a bunker, that much you guessed by the fact that it was wall after wall and you hadn’t seen a door that led you outside. You were about to bring up that fact to the man before he stopped.

“This is where you’re all staying.” He told you before swiftly marching off, leaving you completely confused over him. You pushed aside the arguments in your head that told you this place wasn’t good and opened the double doors into a room of bunk beds. Delinquents were scattered around the room all chatting as you felt a rush of relief flood you. Here they were, they were alive, and that meant Bellamy could be here.

Jasper was sitting on his bed next to Monty as Harper planted herself on the bed next to them, Miller sitting on the foot of it. He was laughing as his eyes lifted to the door, seeing a new figure standing there. “Y/N? Oh my god.” Jasper was off the couch in a matter of seconds, wrapping his arms around you in a hug as you stumbled back and patted his back, doing the only thing you could do in this position. Murmurs of the kids caught your attention as they all stood up and came closer to the door. Jasper pulled away letting Harper and Monty hug you as well. You return the gesture before seeing Miller standing there as well. He didn’t move in for a hug, instead opting for a small smile you ignored. You shouldn’t have been mad at him, but you were. If he hadn’t suggested banishing you, you wouldn’t have said they could if you killed and maybe they would’ve let you stay. Blonde hair stepped out of the crowd, pushing her way through the front with wide eyes.

“Y/N? How-How are you here?” she asked as she put a hand on your upper arm. You shrugged it off, letting your eyes wander around the room.

“Bellamy?” Clarke’s face dropped and you let out a soft scoff. You shouldn’t have hoped he’d be here; it was dumb. Of course he wasn’t here. “Wait,” You looked around at all their faces, seeing the surprise and shock written all over them. “None of you knew I was here?”

Everyone shook their heads making you confused. Wallace said he got your name from your people, but they didn’t know you were here. What the hell were you missing?

Bellamy banged his foot against the ground again and again, staring daggers into Murphy’s face. Murphy just stared at the ceiling to avoid Bellamy for however longer needed better they could be let out. The door opened and Bellamy and Murphy watched Kane enter through it, checking behind him before closing the door and standing over the two.

“You were friends with her? Y/N?” Kane asked towards Bellamy. Kane’s eyes were desperate but Bellamy didn’t say anything and chose to stare up at him through hooded lids. Murphy on the other hand…

“They were friends, alright. Could’ve been more too if she hadn’t died.” He muttered as he pushed his lips into a thin line, watching the way Kane’s face hardened, but more importantly he saw the way Bellamy glanced his way before looking at Kane again. Murphy knew that look, that meant Bellamy had a secret. Kane asked a few more questions relating more to the rest of the group and the grounders before leaving once again. “Okay, what’s going on?” He sighed, letting his head roll onto his shoulder until he was looking at Bellamy. “Bellamy.” He said when Bellamy hadn’t answered.

“She’s still alive.”

“What?” Murphy couldn’t tell if Bellamy was in denial or truly felt that way. “What do you know?”

“There wasn’t a body where Y/N fell. No bones or anything.” He seemed so hopeful that Murphy almost believed him. But there was no way.

“That could mean anything. She might’ve- she might’ve been too burnt. There wouldn’t have been anything left.”

“No, she’s alive. I know it.” Bellamy finalized as Murphy gulped. He messed up a lot in his life but for some reason he couldn’t help but feel guilty when he thought about you. He didn’t really know you, and you both hate each other but he knew you were strong. Bellamy saw the gears shift in Murphy’s head, trying to figure everything out before a scream came from another room. Neither one of them needed to say anything to know those were Ravens scream they heard.

“That was me with the Grounders. I did everything I could not to scream but-“ Murphy started before Bellamy cut him off, a sharpness in his voice that would’ve sent most of the delinquents in the group running for the hills.

“You broke and told them everything about us.”

“And you wouldn’t have?” Murphy spat, shifting in his spot to look at the older boy better. “Oh that’s right, cause you’re better than me, is that it?”

“Damn right! I’m not a traitor and tell them where to find us.” Bellamy thought the conversation was done but then Murphy kept talking and he tried to tune him out.

“I did. After they tortured me in their prison camp for 3 days, but go ahead. You just keep believing, even if you are in here just like me.” A beat of silence passed, Bellamy hating the fact he was locked in here with Murphy of all people and Murphy mainly thinking of one thing. Being locked in here with Bellamy was worst then being locked up with you. At least you had the decency not to get into an argument with him. By then that’s when it hit him. You couldn’t really get into an argument with him. He gave into the grounders, every time they tortured him he gave them information. He knew you didn’t because you’d always come back barely breathing, so many cuts, bruises and half the time you’d be on the verge of unconscious but you never said anything. And you didn’t talk to Murphy afterwards because if you were talking to them they were going to be sure you wouldn’t talk to anyone. ”Y/N wasn’t a traitor.”

Bellamy’s head dropped at the sound of your name in this conversation and the rawness in Murphy’s voice. He blamed himself when he learned you were with Murphy in the Grounder cage, he couldn’t imagine you giving away information hit he didn’t know how they tortured you. Murphy matched Bellamy’s silence, waiting for someone else to come in and distract them as they thought about you.

Mount Weather wasn’t at all what you expected. There were families here and kids running about practically every time you turned the corner. Your friends seemed happy, all of them the complete opposite of you. This place sickened you, you had been out getting your ass beaten and killing people and they had been in here eating cake? It seemed way to good to be true, and as it turns out you weren’t the only one who felt out of place here.

Clarke has been acting weird since you met with everyone and Jasper has told you about what happened that morning with her trying to see someone from mount Weather with a gun shot. You started speculating in your head how that was possible after Clarke told you that they claim there’s no one left out there, but that just didn’t settle well with you. You looked around the large bunker for Clarke, seeing her staring at a piece of paper in her hand you realized was a map of the facility.

“You don’t trust them.” You stared as Clarke tried hiding the paper. She looked up at you with worry but you pulled a chair over to sit in front of her. “Good. You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” She asked, removing the paper from its hiding spot. Taking a cautionary glance around you leaned closer to Clarke. “That map doesn’t have exits, I haven’t seen any and I don’t think you have really either, they claim that no one besides us survived, but I wasn’t in the drop ship. Bellamy, Finn, and I weren’t in the drop ship and yet I’m here. They’re not dead. Otherwise I would’ve been as well.” You explained as she nodded, taking in this new information she hadn’t even considered. “I still don’t understand how I’m here. There had to have so many other kids around me, so why am I the only one here?” Clarke crumpled up the map, throwing it behind her as voice caught your attention.

“Langston! Where you going? It’s movie night.” Someone said as you turned over your shoulder, seeing a man covered in scars and burns coming your way. He walked right past you and Clarke as you both kept an eye on him.

“Langston. That was the guy they brought in.”

“How’d he get better so fast?” You asked as you and Clarke were immediately to your feet and heading out the door. You rounded the corner, seeing Langston enter the medical as she grabbed your arm.

“Only patients are allowed in medical.” You furrowed your brows, letting them drop to her arm, more importantly, her stitches. You placed a hand on your stomach where your own new stitches laid and smirked.

“Oh, I have a bad idea.”

Finn entered the makeshift prison cell was not something Bellamy expected to take so long, but when he and Monroe finally came to their rescue and unlocked him he sighed in relief.

“It’s about time.” He mumbled as they all turned to the door.

“Hey, wait what about me?” Murphy asked as Bellamy looked at him and Finn before picking up the clippers. Finn quickly came up to him, trying to stop what he was doing.

“What are you doing?” He asked as Bellamy flipped the room in his hands and freeing Murphy.

“He’s been to the Grounders camp.”

Murphy grunted as Bellamy pulled him to his feet. “He’s right. I can take you there.” Finn and Murphy shares a look before Monroe warned them about Sterlings signal. Finn nodded beginning to turn around. “Let’s go find your girlfriend.” He turned around to Murphy, expecting to see him staring at Finn but instead his eyes were locked on a certain clenched jawed Bellamy. Bellamy ignored Finn’s curious look and Murphy’s smirk as he gave Murphy a push towards the exit. They managed to get out of camp unseen and headed to the edge of the woods. Finn lead the group, stopping when they came up to Abby and a guard.

“You’re late.” Abby said as she shined the flashlight over the faces of the scared kids.

“Bellamy decided to bring company.” Finn said looking back towards Murphy and glaring. Bellamy argued his stance before Abby handed him two guns and the guard handed them another telling him to find his son who was apparently Nate Miller. They nodded and began their trek in the night to find everyone. Finn fell back a little, walking by Bellamy’s side as he pushed Murphy a head a little.

“What did Murphy mean about ‘your girlfriend’?” He whispered as Bellamy’s face remained stoic staring at the tree line.

“She’s alive.” Finn stopped walking as He grabbed Bellamy’s arm.

“How do you know that?” He asked as they picked up their walking to catch up with the others.

“She can’t be dead.” Finn decides not to push against Bellamy, knowing that right now he needed to believe that you were still out there even though they both saw you get stabbed and fall. He was convinced you were gone but the others, the ones who were in the drop ship were alive, and Grounders had them.

You and Clarke didn’t say anything as you let the nurses stitch you both up again. Your great idea to get into medical had involved finding something sharp to open up your stitches on your stomach and the stitches on Clarke’s arm. Unfortunately you didn’t really think about the drain it would take on you to get an already throbbing place re-stitched. As soon as the nurses were gone you both stood up, you groaning a little at the fact you hadn’t thought about the one on your shoulder until you were already bleeding. You made sure the band aid wasn’t coming off before joining Clarke over by Langston. He was looking even better than he had not even this afternoon and it scared you.

“What are they doing to him?” You whispered as Clarke took a step back, walking around his bed and staring at the ceiling. You knotted your brows, following her and looking at all the other patients before you noticed the red tubes sticking out of all of them. Clarke ended up in front of door, beckoning you over to help push it but it didn’t budge. You gave up, moving away until an air vent caught your attention. “Clarke.” You pointed to the air vent as she smiled and soon you found yourselves on the other side of the door.

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you entered, but strung up grounders begin drained for their blood wasn’t it. Clarke stared them, mouth agape as you noticed the several hundred cages filled with people. They had prisoners they were draining for blood. You started walking down an aisle as they starting moaning, making you have to duck away from their grabbing hands. You looked at each one of them, seeing the energy being drained from their faces until a familiar one stood out. You crouched down, letting her look up at you as you realized who she was. She was in charge of your and Murphy’s torture. She was the one who ordered Clarke’s and Finns death sending you all scurrying into the reapers tunnels. You let out a low growl as Clarke joined you in your position and gasped.

“Anya?”

What did you think?

All Taglists Open

(Strikeout means I couldn’t tag)

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @sadn0va @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey

Banished: @jodiereedus22 @kawennote09 @iamaunicorn4704 @im-a-stranger-thing @elsie2018 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @strangerliaa @frederikkeborup @a-sweet-little-fangirl @divadinag @1-800-juniper @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo @poisoned-girl @cxddlyash @captainam-erika-trash @waitingtobeimpressed @annoylinglyaries @purple-alien-monkey @peqchynero @buckysjuicyplums @somethingdawn @nerdbookish @spxcekru@yessii-i @amongthewildthingss @angelenemies @itsanallygator @your-typical-giggle @jelly-bean8383-blog @im-a-writer-sometimes @thelastdragon6 @hippieballls@savannah0111 @mckeeee-1 @rhyxn @disneychic8 @hyperion-moonbabe

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @nyxxxwtp @danielabetancourth

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salemwolfgang · 5 years ago

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Lone Bird

Summary: Hannibal comes back for more than just a kiss

Pairning: Hannibal Lecter (movie) x Reader

Warning: Break-in, Cursing and Minor Smut

A/N: Here is part two of Song Bird by popular demand

You were currently at home resting after another stressful day. You really didn’t understand why things were so uptight and strict lately but that’s just it’s been. To add on, the patients and nurses have been really rude to you.

To start, one of the patients thought it was a good idea to grab your skirt and pull it up when you were checking on him; luckily there were guards walking by and they were able to get him off of you before anything else happened.

Then you heard a few nurses, who you thought were your friends, talking about how annoying and stupid you were. They all talked about how much they hated you and how should be fired because you don’t deserve this job. Which completely baffled you.

You tried not let it get to you really but you ended up leaving early and came home. You also took off the next three days for a break from the others. Sadly, once you got home you ended up crying yourself to sleep and woke up six hours later.

Which leads to the current situation; you curled up on your couch with a blanket wrapped around your body. You were flipping through the t.v channels searching for something to distract you with when something caught your eye. The local news channel was talking about some sort of crime that happened at your work.

“What the?” You watched and listened patiently to see what was happening.

As you turned up the volume, the news anchor’s next words shocked you to the core.

“ I’m Jennifer Arming reporting to you live from Baltimore State Hospital, at the scene were just three hours ago, three nurses and two patients were found dead just. Their names were Tracy Meegan, Alice Lorane, Justin Ofkins, Abby Sterling, and Brandon Cooper. They were found by another nurse who police have not giving the name of.”

Your hand shot up to your mouth as you recognized all of those names. Abby was a decent friend of yours, a long with Brandon. You continued listening on what the lady was saying even though the thought made you sick.

“But that's not all, these victims were found to be missing limbs giving police an idea win who the culprit is. Some believe it is the famed Hannibal Lecter who escaped this institute some two years ago. They-” You immediately turned the T.V off.

Unwanted thoughts and memories of your night with him buzzed around in your head. You remembered the feel of him against you and the fear that coursed through your veins that brought you wanting more. The thought of him coming back sent a chill down your spine wether from excitement or fear, you had no idea.

You sat in your thoughts for a while but stopped upon hearing a knock at your front door. You were confused due to you not expecting anyone but then again it could’ve been a friend from work. So you got up and went to check.

You looked through the peephole but found no one, which you then assumed that there must’ve been a kid playing a prank on you. You decided to open the door and look to see if you could find them but came up empty handed. Before you went back in you looked down and was surprised to find a grey present box on your porch.

Slowly you picked up the box and jiggled it slightly. You heard a light brush of what sounded like cloth or styrofoam. You glanced around you once more, then turned around and headed inside.

You made your way to your living room and sat back down on the couch. You placed the box on the table in front of you and starred at it all while trying to figure out who could’ve gotten it for you. After not remembering anyone saying anything about someone sending you something, you decided to open the box.

The first thing you noticed inside the box was a nightgown that seemed to be made of blue silk and white lace. The lace started at the lower chest of the gown and fanned out to the bottom. Then you looked over and saw a note that was neatly folded in the corner of the box.

You grabbed a hold of the note and stared at it for a moment wondering if it may have the name of the sender. You found no name but reading the note made it clear enough to know who exactly sent it. It read, “For my dearest Song Bird, to you I give this gown to wear tonight when I arrive for you once more.”

The message caused your body to shiver. He was back and despite your fear... you felt excited. Maybe it was because you had been waiting for him to come back and now that you knew he wasn’t lying. You were kind of happy.

You stopped for moment wondering if these types of thoughts were okay. Surly there was something wrong with them but did you really care? Your morals had always been some what strange but maybe this just normal. What you two experienced wasn’t like anything else you’ve ever done. It should be expected of someone to crave what they shouldn’t.

You decided that you would wear the night gown which was oddly fitting and felt soft to the touch. You had no idea on how he got this but you were slightly thankful he gave it to you.

After putting it on you walked upstairs to your room and laid on your bed. You crossed your arms on your chest and wondered if he would actually show up your doubts were quickly smothered when you heard a faint whistling. It could’ve came from a anywhere in your house but all you knew was that it was getting closer.

It became louder and soon you heard footsteps just outside your door. Then both the footsteps and whistling stopped. It was silent but only for a moment. The anticipation crawled up your body and into your throat; you felt as if you couldn’t breathe properly.

“My song bird has been left alone for so long. You must’ve been so sad without me.” It was dark and you could barely see the figure of Hannibal walk slowly to your bed. “Now that I am here to take care of you; you won’t have to feel that pain.”

You were now pushed back to the headrest on your bed. Hannibal now placed directly next you and his face a foot away.

“Did you miss me?” You were to frozen to reply verbally but found yourself nodding your head.

“I would hope so.”

He moved his hand up and gently caressed your face. It was a simple gesture but it did works for your craving of physical affection from him. He moved his hand down slowly and grabbed your neck. He applied light pressure as if to remind you of his power over you.

His face was now a few inches away from yours. You anticipated his next move and was pleasantly surprised to have him pull you in and have your lips meet. Your eyes closed and you leaned into him. Hannibal smiled into the kiss, your desire for his touch made him eager to continue but he stopped. You whined at the loss and he made a tsk sound with his tongue.

“We’ll finish this tomorrow when you're awake and full of energy. I want to be able to touch you for hours.”

You nodded disappointedly but was happy he’d be here tomorrow anyway. Hannibal grabbed ahold of your waist and pulled you into is embrace. He held on tight which allowed you little movement but you didn’t complain. Your eyes slowly drifted shut as you fell asleep to the soft sounds of his breathing.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher #slashers x you #x reader #x you

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moviegroovies · 5 years ago

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ok on one hand it doesn’t REALLY matter what the full names of the lost boys (+star) were other than the names we’re given in the movie, but i have been thinking about it and i have a few Opinions:

first, i think i’ve already said that i hc star as trans, but i’m gonna take this opportunity to say that i feel that way about marko too.

for star, i’ve kind of decided that her name was something that kind of evolved over time. in my canon, i’m using “jonah martin sterling” (martin being pronounced mar-teen, if you want to get into semantics) as her dead name, and the evolution of that in my mind goes something like.... idk

like, when she’s younger, in the late sixties-ish bc of my OTHER star hc where she’s been with the boys for like 15+ years, someone calls her “joanie” one day, short for jonah, and it kind of surprises her how much better that feels than her full name. when she starts to present as female, she initially uses joanie as her new name, but it still doesn’t feel right

eventually she just decides to go by her surname, sterling

as she gets involved with the hippie movement, she makes some friends who playfully change sterling to starling (i wanted to say in reference to silence of the lambs, but that book didn’t come out until the year after lost boys did so i guess it’s just a coincidence smfh), and by the time she meets the lost boys, she’s pretty much shed the rest of her name altogether, and simply introduces herself as star. this name makes her super happy; in addition to being gender affirming, it’s so pretty and ethereal and it’s a connection to the friends she left behind and it’s great!!!

and then michael comes for her with the “your folks too” thing. goddamn it michael.

oh speaking of tactless boy his full legal name is “michael moonchild emerson” because i said so

so star picked out her new name as the result of an elaborate transformation on her given name, but i think marko kind of went the other way: his name has absolutely nothing to do with his dead name whatsoever.

i think his deadname was something flowery and embarrassing that the other boys find positively hilarious when they find out about it and mock him ruthlessly for, until he makes very good on a threat against the next person to bring it up and shuts the rest of them up about it forever. for some reason, petunia is coming to mind. or beatrice.

let’s say.... petunia beatrice kelly, with kelly chosen pretty much at random on the basis that it came up on a list of british surnames and alex winter is british-american. anyway it doesn’t matter because he literally never goes by this and will justifiably crucify anyone who tries to call him it.

when he meets the other lost boys, sometime around the turn of the century (around the year 1900, that is), he’s not going by marko yet, but he’s going by something that he thinks makes him sound tough. butch, maybe? tex? or billy, bc of billy the kid and also as a thinly veiled reference to bill & teds?

let’s say he’s cycled through all three, and is trying to suss out which feels right to him when he falls in with the boys.

i think the genesis of “marko” comes one night when they’re all talking about their elaborate future plans that they all sort of know deep down will never happen for streetrats like them, and he says something about traveling the world and seeing all the museums and maybe robbing them for their best pieces so he can take ‘em home for himself. david says offhand that he’ll be a regular marco polo... and somehow, it sticks.

unfortunately this is still a time when the boys are mostly illiterate, so when he starts signing, he writes it with a k and doesn’t figure out the error until years later, when it’s too late. that’s fine, though; he likes it better that way.

...yeah, that’s about all i’ve got for now. it’s easy for me to assign full names to characters who would have chosen their own, but i’m still drawing a blank on full names for dwayne, david, and paul. let me know what you think? i’m always desperate happy to chat about headcanons!

#the lost boys #text post #star #michael emerson #marko #the wikipedia page for alex winter assigned marko the last name davies but i honest to god have no idea where that came from #kiefer's wiki page gave david the last name powers but i'm pretty sure that's just the villain in the sequel's surname #anyway i refuse to ascribe to either of those

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rosewinterborn · 5 years ago

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11/11/11

I waited too long to do this, so now I have 44 questions to do. RIP. Tagged by @writersblockandapotoftea, @arwallace (I know you tagged @expositionpreposition but it’s easier to do it here!), @shit-she-wrote, and @atinydino

Cap:

Who was your childhood hero?

Honestly, probably JKR. Again, RIP.

If we didn’t start the fire, who did?

People like my dad who say “millennials” like it’s a derogatory word probably

What made you start your wip?

Reading too much Dresden Files and also looking at magic academia posts on Tumblr (Gutter Witch); Reading Eragon (Companion to Dragons); Wanting to make an open magic world (Witches Anthology); Reading too much Stucky fanfiction (Fractal); Listening to the Magnus Archives three times through in a month (CHAF3k); wanted to go on a magic adventure with my high school friends (Children of the Light)

Hogwarts house?

Gryffindor!

Star Trek or Star Wars

Star Wars, though I like both

What was your pre-teen bop?

Uhhh Taylor Swift’s whole second album

If you could have a fantasy creature as a pet, what would you pick?

A dragon about the size of a cat that could sit on my shoulder and talk to me

What’s your pet peeve?

Feeling like people are upset with me but won’t talk to me about it

Dracula or Frankenstien’s Monster?

Haven’t read Dracula so Frankenstein’s monster, I guess.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve said to a friend?

I mean I had a conversation with two lesbians about dildos yesterday, soooo

If you had to murder someone, who would it be?

No one. I honestly don’t think I’d be able to live with myself after.

A R Wallace

Which book(s)/series would you compare your current WIP(s) to?

The Dresden Files. Though I did have someone say it was like reading a better-written Mortal Instruments. I was tickled.

Would you be willing to adapt your WIP into a movie one day? Why or Why not?

Yes. Please. Let me see my work come to life.

What is your ‘writing ritual’? (do you make sure you’ve made a cup of tea, sit in a particular spot, etc.)

I don’t have any particular ritual, I usually just try and seize the energy when I have it. Right now I am trying to sit at my actual desk to work, though, and during school if I had anything that I desperately needed to get done I took my ass to a coffee shop and told myself I wasn’t allowed to leave until it was done.

How much has writeblr helped you with your writing?

It helped me find a writing community that inspired me to get back to work after the depression had taken it away from me. I’m not as active on writeblr as maybe I could be, but the writing discord I found through it has been a lifeline.

If you could be one creature (real or mythical), what would you be?

A dragon. But like, one of the ones that can shapeshift. I also like being human.

Sum up your favorite WIP in one sentence

Oh god I’m supposed to have a favorite? That’s not gonna happen…

Gutter Witch: Local teens sick and tired of prophetic bullshit

Children of the Light: Estranged assholes learn to love each other again and also stop the apocalypse

Fractal: Hell on Earth in so many ways

Companion to Dragons: Girl’s asshole father sends her and her sister on a suicide mission and thinks that’s the end of it (surprise!)

Witches Anthology: literally a whole bunch of short stories so I’m not gonna try

Which of your characters is your favorite?

Whyyyyyy idk in GW probably Hunter, he’s fun to write. Overall maybe Sterling, my enby necromancer in the anthology

Which of your characters is your least favorite?

Hunter’s mother. Like honestly, every time I write about her she gets worse.

What do you believe is the most overused trope in your WIP’s genre(s)?

Melodrama.

Favorite season?

Autumn

If you could travel anywhere in the universe, where would you go?

Several places in Europe, in no particular order.

Eva:

1. What’s the first story you remember writing?

A story about a cat and a mouse becoming friends.

2. How has your taste in books changed since childhood?

I’ve tended a lot less towards high fantasy. I think it’s too much of an energy investment to try and understand the worldbuilding right now, whereas you can usually just jump into urban fantasy. I’ve also gotten a lot more interested in horror.

3. Do you see any similarities to your favorite books in your work? If yes, what are they?

If I’m being real honest, most of my wips are direct rip-offs of stuff I’ve read/watched/listened to, at least in the first draft. I usually try and direct my obsessions into creative energy at some point, with differing amounts of success.

4. What sort of music inspires you?

Stuff with strong beats/baseline and vaguely rebellious lyrics. So like, lots of Imagine Dragons and Fall Out Boy. But also trailer music like Epic Score and Two Steps from Hell

5. Favorite book?

These are the most evil kinds of questions you guys.

I can’t think of any published books I’d call my absolute favorite, but I do have a handful of fanfics I read on at least an annual basis: War, Children, by Nonymos; To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most of All, by perfect_plan; and Schroedinger’s Romance by lesbuchanan

6. Favorite mythology (Greek, Norse, etc.)?

Probably Celtic? I’m really rusty on it though

7. Dream vacation?

A long, long trip through Europe without having to worry about money

8. Favorite writing snack?

I don’t really eat when I write because its too much of a distraction :P

9. What tea do you drink the most while writing?

Irish Breakfast

10. Do you have a special writing cup, that you drink tea out of specifically when writing to fill you up with inspiration?

I have a couple I’m more likely to grab, like my Night Vale Community Radio mug or my white Starbucks mug with the gold lettering

11. Write your favorite quote from your recent wip!!

Just outside the beam of light was a circle of what looked like black paint, tiny sigils scratched into it, shimmering uncannily in the dark. Wisps of that grim light drifted from the sigils to the figures at their center, dancing around Mara’s hands, clutching at Hunter’s shirt. Anywhere they touched his skin, blood seeped from a new laceration, sluggish and dark and horrible.

“Hunter,” she breathed.

Then she heard him.

“Run, Cady,” he croaked. “Tell my mom...she’s a bitch.”

Ames:

1. What’s your favorite season and why

Autumn! I love rain and also that it’s not super hot or super cold

2. What’s your favorite food?

Bread.

3. Who’s your favorite character in your most recent WIP?

Hunter Bishop, asshole extraordinaire

4. Do you hide easter eggs in your writing? If so tell me a few.

Hm. If I do, I don’t consider them easter eggs, just references. Though I did have someone in my creative writing class ask if the sandwich my protagonist was eating was based on one served in one of the restaurants on campus (and he was right)

5. Would you prefer your WIPs to be turned into a movie or tv series? (feel free to tell me about more than just 1)

Gutter Witch should just be a movie, and I’m leaning towards that for Witches as well. Fractal could go either way, though I’m leaning towards TV show. Children of the Light could go either way. CHAF3k will hopefully be a podcast at some point.

6. If you could have a writing studio anywhere with anything in it, what would it be like and where would it be?

I like the nook I have, though I think I’d adjust the height of my desk chair and add a coffee maker and a closer bathroom so I don’t have to walk all the way across the apartment. Oh, and I’d get a massive whiteboard so I can go all conspiracy theory on my wips.

7. What music do you listen to to get you in the zone? (the writing zone)

Trailer music! Epic Score and Two Steps from Hell. I can’t listen to music with lyrics while I try to make the words go.

8. What’s your worldbuilding process?

Panic.

But actually, I think of the aesthetic I’m after and then try to make everything build off of that. Along the way I usually try to figure out what thing I’m consciously or unconsciously basing it off of so that I can make necessary changes.

9. Who are your most influential authors?

JKR (sorry), Laini Taylor, Juliet Marillier, Tamora Pierce

10. What’s your favorite kind of cookie?

French macarons

11. Give me your favorite excerpt for your recent WIP!

“I wanted to talk to Madge.”

“Madge is dead,” Hunter said, confused.

“I’m aware,” she said. “I asked Death to take me to her, but she said she couldn’t and suggested projection instead.”

Hunter turned from the stove with the most dumbfounded expression Cady had ever seen outside of cinema. “You asked Death,” he repeated.

Cady snorted. “Yeah. I asked Death.”

“The cosmic power, Death.”

“The cosmic power, Death. We’re good friends. She comes over for tea on occasion.”

Hunter stared at her, expression halfway between disbelief and suspicion. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you,” Cady said. “Death is the whole reason I came to this Coven. She sent me here when I was thirteen.”

Hunter sank back against the counter, looking almost faint. Whatever he’d been cooking began to sizzle alarmingly. “Death has been...in this apartment.”

Cady nodded.

Not tagging anyone else on this one. I’ve learned my lesson lmao.

#tag games

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justanothersecretfangirl · 6 years ago

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His

A/N: This is set in an AU where you stop aging when you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate so you can live out your lives together, which I am sure you’ve heard of. It’s set sometime in the future, but the exact time doesn’t really matter. I know AG Artists is in NY, and I know there are a couple of other things that aren’t exactly 100% accurate, but it’s an AU. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Warnings: it’s very fluffy? All the fluff

Word Count: 5103 😯 (holy cheese nips. what?)

Y/N was perfectly fine being alone. When all her friends were out dating and going to clubs, she was studying at the most prestigious university in London. They found their soulmates and most of them are in their 70s or 80s by now. You hadn’t consciously tried to avoid finding your soulmate, but it just hadn’t happened, and you honestly didn’t mind. There was so much pressure to find your perfect match and you would much rather stay in and watch movies and eat popcorn than go out on dates. Besides, it seemed that all the good guys were taken.

You were currently sat on the couch, watching your guilty pleasure, Entertainment Tonight. Another celebrity was in rehab. A senator woke up 20 years into being married and realized she hadn’t aged a day, while her husband looks 20 years older. Another snobby pop star said something stupid. The usual. Towards the end of the broadcast, the reporter was standing in front of Island Records in downtown Hollywood.

“And our last story of the night, folks. Andrew Gertler is looking for a Head of Marketing Operations at his company, AG Artists. AG Artists is, most notably, the team that manages International Pop Sensation Shawn Mendes. Their former Head of Marketing, Justin Sterling, was let go following allegations of sexual misconduct last week. Gertler has stated they are looking for something pretty specific, but if you are looking for a job, head over to their website for more information. Back to you in the studio.” The screen flashed back to the studio, but you were thinking about what I would take to move to Hollywood.

Your entire life was in London, and had been for almost 100 years, but there wasn’t much left for you here. Your friends all had their own lives, and, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t had friends in a long time. You bought your flat a few years ago, and you were the Marketing Director of a company headquartered here in London. But you lost passion for it a long time ago. You sighed, but opened your laptop to look for apartments in LA. They were expensive, but not any more so than your current flat in downtown London. You flipped over to the AG Artists website, and navigated to the careers page. The first one listed was for the Head of Marketing Operations, so you clicked on it. Reading through, it seemed like a fairly typical Ops level job, and the pay was a little increase from what you were making now.

You filled out the application, and attached your resume. You looked down at the clock and realized it was about midnight, so you decided to turn in. You closed your laptop and walked it over to your charger. You decided to make a cup of herbal tea before bed, then brought it with you to bed. You snuggled into your bed, sipping your tea as you read a couple chapters of your book. You fell asleep with your book on your chest.

The next morning, your alarm woke you from your dreams. You stretched comically, before walking over to the bathroom in your room. You took a quick shower before quickly drying and curling your hair. It was Friday, and you were so very excited that it was. Your walk to the office was quick, but it was mid January, so it was cold. You were bundled up, but still walked pretty quick to get back to the warmth.

Your work day went fine, but you were surprised when you received an international call about the time you were getting ready to leave.

“Hello?”

“Is this Y/N Y/L/N?” the pleasant sounding woman asked on the other side of the line.

“It is,” you responded kindly.

“My name is Elizabeth Sanders. I am Andrew Gertler’s personal assistant. We received your resumes last night and would like to set up a video interview with you.” You were surprised by the quick turnaround, but with the time difference, you realized they had probably received your application before they left the office yesterday.

“That would be great. I would love to talk to Mr. Gertler about the position.”

“Great!” she said, “What time would work best for you? I know you’re located in London, and that is 9 hours ahead of us.”

“Any time Monday works great for me.”

“How does 10 AM our time work for you?” You calculated it would be 8 PM your time.

“That works great. I look forward to speaking with him on Monday.”

“Thank you so much for your time! I will send you over an email with some information, and the link for the video conference.” You smiled to yourself.

“Thank you so much for your time.”

“You’re so welcome,” she said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

You finished gathering up your belongings and said goodbye to your coworkers. You made the short walk back to your flat. The warmth and cozy feeling of your apartment was a welcome feeling.

Your weekend went by smoothly. You went to the grocery store and ran a few other errands. Soon, it was Monday and you were jittery all day. You ended up leaving work early, unable to focus on anything for long enough to get much done. You walked home and, knowing you were video chatting with Andrew later, stayed in your work clothes. You did pull on a King’s College hoodie while you were making and eating dinner.

Too soon, the time came when you were to log into the video call. You were rushing to get your computer hooked up and loaded onto the video conference page. You plugged your earphones into your computer at 7:58, just as Andrew logged in. You smiled when his face came into focus.

“Hi Y/N!” You smiled at him.

“Hello Mr. Gertler,” you waved awkwardly, immediately kicking yourself.

“Please, call me Andrew. I am pretty casual, and I don’t want this to be awkward. I just want to get to know you better.” You smiled at him.

“That sounds great.”

“So, tell me about yourself.” You hated this question, but you had come up with an answer a long time ago.

“Well, I was born and raised right here in and around London. Hence the accent,” you smiled and Andrew chuckled. “I did both my secondary and postsecondary studies at King’s College here in London and I have since gone back and did a few certifications after my Masters degree in visual communication and digital marketing. I am currently the Artistic Director for a London based marketing company, and I have worked in a variety of industries, including medical and legal. While I have really enjoyed learning and growing here in London, I’d really love to dig into an industry that I haven’t worked in, and in a country I have only visited. I bring a lot of experience, and a unique perspective of the foreign markets that I believe will be an asset to your team.” You finished your monologue and noticed Andrew was nodding.

“I do see you have all the qualifications we are looking for. You certainly have the most experience of any of our applicants. And, as you know, we need to fill this position very quickly. I have only one additional question. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” You immediately knew he was asking indirectly about the fact that you had not found your soulmate.

“Well, Andrew, I am no psychic, so I don't know for sure. But I hope to be working at a job I enjoy and that pushes and challenges me. I am always searching for more and that usually means advancing myself in some way, whether it is in my job, or in my education.” Andrew was grinning at you.

“When can you be here?” You smiled at him and grinned.

It all happened so fast after that. It didn’t take much to find a replacement at work, and you were so happy with the choice to promote from within. The young girl who replaced you had worked very hard since she was hired and you were happy she was getting her chance.

The only thing that didn’t happen was an apartment, but your flat in London sold much, much quicker than you anticipated. So you packed up your entire life, reserved a storage unit in LA and hopped on a plane.

Part of the benefits you had discussed with Andrew was a stipend to help with your moving expenses and you figured it would cover a few weeks in a hotel while you tried to find an apartment or condo. You got settled into your suite in an LA hotel the night before you were to report to the office. Jet lag was still very much a problem and you were dreading getting up in the morning but forced yourself to sleep.

You were up and ready long before you needed to be, and you were increasingly grateful for the availability in the hotel just a block from the office. The weather in LA was so different from the weather in London, and you just put on a cardigan before your walk.

You walked into the lobby of the building and were greeted by the receptionist. You smiled at her, explaining who you were.

“Oh! We are all so excited for you to be here. Follow me and I’ll take you up to Andrew’s office!” the chatty woman said then scurried down the hallway behind her desk to the elevator. She pushed the up arrow.

“How are you liking LA?” she asked. You smiled at her.

“I am loving the weather. I left 1 degree weather in London to come here to 15 degree weather.” She looked at you like you had grown a second head. You realized it must have been the difference between Celcius and Farenheit. “Oh, that’s Celsius. I keep forgetting I’m in America.” You giggle and she laughs out loud.

“That makes more sense! The weather here must be much different than the weather there though. Do you have snow?”

“Not too much,” you said as the door opened and dinged. “Usually just have freezing rain.” The receptionist shuddered.

“That sounds cold.”

“It definitely is.”

“I love your accent,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I rarely remember I sound different, but I have gotten so many comments on it.” You laugh. “I guess that’s what happens when you’ve always lived around people who sound just like you.” The door slid open and you followed the receptionist out into a large room with a few tables. People were sitting at them, clicking away on keyboards or listening to their computers through large headphones. You followed the woman through the room to an office with glass walls. She knocked quietly on the open door and a man you recognized as Andrew looked up. He smiled at you and popped out of his seat.

“Y/N! We are so excited you’re here!” He walked over to you and shook your hand. “Thank you so much for bringing her up here, Savannah.” The receptionist, Savannah, smiled and walked out of the office.

“So, how was your trip out here?” Andrew asked, motioning you to the chair near his desk.

“It was pretty crazy, but I’m here and that’s what is important,” you said with a smile.

“That’s great to hear,” Andrew said as his phone dinged. He glanced down at his phone. “So, we’re going to jump right in today. We have a meeting this morning. But before, let me show you to your office and I’ll let you get settled.” He stood up and looked back down at his desk quickly. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He opened one of the drawers in his desk. He pulled out a box with an iPhone and a box with an macbook. “These are yours. We have already loaded most everything you’ll need on each. Your work email and calendar are both synced onto there, as well as all the phone numbers you’ll need. Work with Savannah to get you a case you’ll like for each.” He handed them to you as you followed him out of his office. You followed him a couple doors down and to another glass walled office. He opened the door for you and let you walk in before him. Along one wall was a long desk with 2 computers and drawers. The other wall had an L shaped desk with the workspace facing out towards the common area. You walked over and sat your computer and phone down on the desk.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, smiling to Andrew.

“Thank Elizabeth for that. She designed your office. We like white and clean lines here. As we had discussed on the phone, we are definitely a teamwork agency. We thought you might like to have a space where your team can work with you if you need to. They each have desks out there,” he said pointing out to the shared space, “but we thought it might nice to have a space you can work together as well.”

“That is brilliant!” you said, your British showing through. He chuckled.

“Okay, take some time to get set up. We have a meeting in 20 minutes in the main conference room.” He pointed out toward a conference room the size of half of the floor. You nodded to him.

“We are really glad you’re here, Y/N,” he said before turning and walking out.

You looked around your beautiful office before sitting down behind your desk. You thought about where you might put some of your decorations and things from home, but they were currently buried in a storage unit downtown. You chuckled to yourself before opening your phone and computer. You figured you’d need to at least know how to log in and open some sort of note taking app for your meeting. You were able to get them open and looked up just as a woman approached the door.

“Hi! I’m Elizabeth,” the woman said walking toward you, shaking your hand. You smiled at her.

“Y/N,’ you said, and she laughed.

“I could have guessed that much,” she said and you laughed. “I just came to make sure you had everything you needed before the meeting. Everyone is very excited to meet you and hear your thoughts.” You smiled at her, and looked around the office.

“I could use a water bottle? Is there a vending machine or something I can buy one from real quick?” She chuckled at you, but walked around your desk. Below the desk on the farthest side was a small refrigerator, which she opened and handed you a water bottle. You laughed as you took it from her, thanking her.

“If you need anything else, let me know. I go to Costco once a week and I can pick up anything you need.” You smiled at her, nodding. She smiled back. “It’s time to head in there. Ready?” You nodded to her, grabbing your water bottle and laptop, deciding to leave your new phone on the desk, as you hadn’t gotten it turned on yet. You followed her out of your office, which you noticed already had your name etched on the door, and across the room to the conference room. Andrew joined up with you as you approached the door. He opened the door for you, letting you and Elizabeth in the room before he walked in himself. You glanced around the table, not recognizing anyone, but that wasn’t surprising.

Andrew gestured you to the table, letting you know you can take a seat anywhere. You sat down on the side facing outside, the beautiful wall of windows showing the gorgeous LA skyline. You opened your laptop, opening Word and putting the date at the top of the page. After a few minutes, Andrew smiled and stood up. He approached a man who had just walked in, hugging him and patting him on the back. You could only see a head of curls behind Andrew’s head, but as he turned around to the room you immediately recognized him. Shawn Mendes was standing in front of you, a goofy grin on his face. He sauntered over to a seat opposite you and sat down, still chatting with Andrew.

Andrew sat back down in his chair.

“Let’s get started here,” he said. “First order of business. I want everyone to meet Y/N Y/L/N. She is our new Head of Marketing Operations. You all know we have been anxiously awaiting her jump across the pond and we are so excited she’s finally here.” Andrew smiled at you, and you were really trying to keep your attention on him and not on the curly headed superstar across the table from you. “Go ahead and introduce yourself, Y/N.”

“Oh, I, uh, I’m from London,” you said with a chuckle and everyone in the room laughed, “I have been in marketing for quite a while and I look forward to helping out and moving forward. I already know I have a lot to bring to the table and I hope to be able to learn from all of you and add my own insights,” you said with a smile, glancing around the room, finally making eye contact with smooth brown ones across the table from yours. A blush spread across his face and you looked away shyly, hoping one was not on your own.

“Lets go around and say our name and our job around here.” Andrew said, smiling. “I’ll start. I’m Andrew. I sorta run the place.” The room erupts with laughter. Everyone around the room introduced who they were and soon it was Shawn’s turn.

“I’m Shawn. I’m just a rando they let in from off the street.” The room erupted into laughter again. You realized Andrew wasn’t kidding when he said they were a casual office. Laughing and everyone seemed to be in tshirts and jeans. You immediately felt overdressed.

“Anyone have any questions for Y/N before we start?” Andrew looked around the room. Shawn cleared his throat across the table from you.

“How did you find an apartment?” he asked. “I looked for almost a year before I found anything.” The room laughed again, and you smiled at him.

“I, uh, I didn’t. I’m staying that the hotel around the corner until I can find something. I do think I saw Keira Knightley this morning though!” Everyone was laughing again and you smiled, glancing down at the screen in front of you.

“Okay, now let’s dive in,” Andrew said and started talking about Shawn’s new album. You learned it was about 75% recorded and that they had begun planning our marketing strategy. Justin had left a document that you stumbled upon on the laptop that Elizabeth must have made sure you had. You told yourself that you needed to thank her for that later. You opened it up and scanned through it. You made a few notes and then it was your turn to discuss.

“I think we need to change our approach entirely.” The room went quiet, everyone, including Shawn, looking at you with wide eyes. You chuckled. “Now I have your attention, eh?” There were a few chuckles around the room. “Okay, let’s look at the numbers. SM3 did good in most markets. We know the marketing strategy was successful. But we are also looking at a demographic of specifically girls who are reaching 18 and we all know what happens then. We need to market to a demographic of women who are looking for something in life and those who haven’t found it yet. Like me,” you finish with a quiet voice. Looking around you see a couple people nodding. It is Andrew that speaks up first.

“You know what, you’re right. Shawn is growing up and his music is growing up, so why shouldn’t our marketing strategy grow up?” The rest of the meeting went well, everyone leaving on board with your plan to mature the marketing.

“At the end of the day, they may look 18, but we don’t know how old they really are,” you had said and that seemed to strike a chord.

The next few days flew by with meetings and you were more busy than you had ever been. But you loved it. Shawn was in office almost every day, as they were really trying to nail down this plan. He spent quite a bit of time in your office, with your team working away at the table along the side wall.

As you were walking back to your office during your second week with AG Artists, a tall floppy haired boy ran up beside you. You glanced up at him with a smile.

“What can I do for you, Shawn?” you asked as you opened the door to your office. You went in and sat your laptop on your desk by your iPhone. You looked over at him, who had settled into the chair across the desk from you. You wanted to laugh at how comically large he seemed, but kept it in.

“It’s more like what I can do for you,” he said, his hands in front of him akin to the Godfather. You laughed this time.

“And what can you do for me, Mr. Mendes?” you asked, sitting down in your own chair.

“Well, I just so happen to have an extra room in my condo. And I simply cannot let a damsel in distress live in a hotel. It’s not feasible long term.” He looked at you sincerely, but you felt uneasy.

“Well, what is in it for you?” you asked, knowing there had to be a catch.

“I’ve been looking for a roommate. I am gone for long periods of time while I’m touring, and I would rather someone was coming and going than it to just sit there empty.” It did seem like a sound reason for needing a roommate.

“I would have to pay rent,” you said quietly, more to yourself than anything.

“You know it’s already paid for, Y/N…” he trailed off.

“So? I’d be living in your house. You get rent.”

“You can pay for the internet or something. Groceries.” You looked at him inquisitively. It was getting tiring living in a hotel, not having any of your things. Plus, it was expensive.

“Fine,” you said.

“Fine?” he responded. “Is that a yes?”

“I’m paying you something, Shawn. And I’ll be in charge of groceries.” Shawn jumped up and ran to give you a hug. You giggle but hugged the huge child back.

“I’ll send a car by tonight after work. We’ll go get your stuff and you can be sleeping in your own bed this evening.” You laugh at his enthusiasm, but that did sound really nice. You nodded to him and laughed when he waved and jogged out of the room, shouting behind him that he was late for a meeting with Andrew. You laughed as he tripped over nothing and almost fell on his face. You sat back down at your desk, shooting a text to Andrew asking if you could leave a bit early that afternoon. You had gotten much of your to do list done and wanted to pack up all your stuff at the hotel before Shawn helped you move into his house. He responded that that would be fine and to have fun moving that evening. Shawn must have already told him.

The next few days were a whirlwind of working and moving and you were finally moved into the condo Shawn owned in LA. He explained that once Andrew and AG Artists moved to Hollywood, he decided it would be a good idea to get a condo here. He still owned his condo in Toronto and made you promise you’d let him show you around Toronto sometime.

The domestic life was easy when Shawn was around. You’d gotten used to working around each other in the kitchen making dinner. You had your own spots on the couch and Shawn had finally figured out which tea you enjoyed in the morning and which was your night time tea. Neither of you mentioned the multiple times you had fallen asleep on the couch and woken up with your head on his lap or vice versa, and you tried to always have breakfast done for him before he left for recording, knowing the boy wouldn’t eat if you didn’t feed him.

A few months after you moved in, you were standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror. You had felt under the weather the past few days, so decided that the dark circles under your eyes and wrinkles in your forehead were from lack of sleep. You toyed with the idea of calling in sick that day, but you were getting closer to Shawn’s album being ready and it was important you nailed down a few things. You pulled on a sweatshirt that you realized was Shawn’s, but didn’t care. Your jeans were just loose enough to be super comfortable and your boots were lined with fur and were arguably the most comfortable thing you had ever put on your feet.

You walked downstairs to the kitchen to see a cup of tea on the counter. It was still steaming, so you knew Shawn was around somewhere. You sat down on the stool and took a sip of your tea, letting the warmth travel down your throat and warm you up from the inside out. You almost spit out your mouth full of tea when you heard a scream come from upstairs. You took off running up the stairs two at a time, pushing Shawn’s door open, looking around frantically. When you didn’t see anyone in the room, you ran into the bathroom, praying in the back of your mind that he was dressed, though it wouldn’t be the first time you had accidentally walked in on him.

He was standing in front of the mirror, fully dressed, to your intense relief, and his eyes were wide.

“I have a grey hair! A grey hair, Y/N!” He turned to you, his eyes wide, a single hair between his fingers. You stared at him dumbfounded. You slowly walked over to him, before punching him very hard in the upper arm. You yelped in pain, sure that had hurt you more than it hurt him. You cradled your hand.

“What was that for?” Shawn bellowed, rubbing his arm with his opposite hand.

“I thought someone was in our house, Shawn! You can’t just scream bloody freaking murder because you found a grey hair! That’s not cool!” you screamed back at him. He was still rubbing his arm, but his face softened.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N,” he said, slowly approaching before wrapping you in a hug. You snuggled into his chest for a moment before crying. “Hey, Y/N/N,” Shawn said softly, “what’s the matter?”

“I am wrinkly!” you bellowed into his chest, and you could hear him stifle a laugh. You lightly smacked his chest before giggling yourself. “It’s so stupid, I know. But I’ve been 18 for so long, why am I wrinkly?” you said through dramatic sobs. Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. “Why am I aging?” you whispered. You tears stopped all at once. You looked up at Shawn with wide eyes. “Why am I aging?” you repeated. He slowly reached up to his head, then his eyes went as wide as yours. You jumped when he started laughing.

“We’re aging, Y/N,” he said through belly laughs. You stared at him, before it dawned on you. You were aging together. “We’re aging!” he yelled out, his voice echoing through the bathroom.

“We’re aging!” you scream out, laughs racking through your own body now. He wrapped you in an enthusiastic hug. After a few minutes, you both calmed down.

“We’re aging, Y/N,” Shawn whispered, his lips against your hair.

“We’re aging, Shawn,” you mumbled into his chest. You were quietly crying again, your tears making the front of his shirt wet. He pulled you away from him, looking into your eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I love you, and we are going to grow old together.” His voice was soft and sincere.

“I love you too, Shawn. I love you,” you said just as quietly. Shawn looked from your eyes to your lips, before slowly leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own softly. You pulled away, looking up at him.

“I love you,” he said softly, pulling you back into him, kissing your hair softly.

“I am going to be late to work,” you mumble into his chest.

“Marry me,” he says softly. You pull away from him and look at him.

“Are you sure?” you ask softly.

“Of course I’m sure, Y/N! If you weren’t my soulmate, I was going to ask anyways and we were going to reign supreme immortals forever!” You laughed through the tears that had started falling down your face.

“Yes, Shawn,” you said with a smile.

“Yes?” he questioned.

“Yes!” you repeated. “Yes, of course, Shawn. Yes a million times Shawn!” He laughed out loud, wrapped you in a hug and spun you around before setting you back down. You smiled at him before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. He immediately melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around your waist. You pulled away, a smile on your face.

“Lets go to work?” you asked.

“In my sweatshirt?” he questioned, a smirk on his face. You looked down at the hoodie. You looked back up at him and just nodded, a grin on your face. “Good,” he said. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.” You laugh.

“I’ve been yours for a long time, Shawn,” you said softly, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

Forever tag list: @embracehappy @atlas-of-a-human-soul @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @super-fire-breathing-girl @yourvoiceislikearose

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn fic #shawn fluff #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn #justanothershawngirl

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chooseywoozy · 6 years ago

Text

Veil of Secrets, Book One: Chapter 1 - Missing Persons

(NOW PLAYING AS JUICY)

You sit in a cold metal chair in a police interrogation room, watching the minutes tick by on the clock.

Juicy: (How much longer are they going to keep me here?)

As if answering your question, the door at the end of the room swings open, and a man in a sharp suit enters, flashing an FBI badge.

Agent Michael Kim: Special Agent Michael Kim, FBI. And you are… Juicy?

Juicy: That’s right.

Agent Michael Kim: Well, Juicy. I’m hoping you can answer some questions.

He sits down, flipping open a heavy folder full of photos…

Agent Michael Kim: See, I’m just trying to make sense of what happened in this town. Looking at this report here, I’ve got a kidnapping, multiple break-ins, an arson, and at least four homicides… And you think you know who was behind it all.

Juicy: What can I say? It’s been a wild month.

Agent Michael Kim: Can you tell me what happened here? From the beginning?

Juicy: Well.. It all started with a wedding…

Letter: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Katherine O’Malley and Tanner Charles Sterling to be held at Sterling Manor in Birchport, Massachussetts.

Your taxi pulls up outside an imposing family estate in the village of Birchport, Massachussetts.

Juicy: Wow…

The doors swing open, and a handsome stranger walks out, smiling at you.

???: Welcome to Sterling Manor! You’re here for the rehearsal dinner, I assume?

Juicy: I’m Juicy. A friend of Kate’s. Uh, Katherine’s.

???: You can relax. She’s Kate to me too. Looks like you’ve never been here before. I’m Grant Emerson. I’d be happy to show you the way.

Juicy: You’re so kind to offer.

Grant Emerson: Really, it’s my pleasure.

Grant leads you through the doors into an elegant foyer.

Grant Emerson: So how do you know Kate?

Juicy: We were best friends in college, but we kind of lost touch since. I was honestly surprised to get the invitation.

Grant Emerson: She’s told me some stories about her college days. It sounded like the two of you were a force of nature back then.

Juicy: You could say that. Let me guess. You’re… best friends with the groom.

Grant Emerson: Best friends? I wouldn’t call us that. Our families have… a long history. Both with Birchport, and with each other. Our families have been rivals for years. But Tanner and I are friendly.

Juicy: So do you live in a mansion too?

Grant Emerson: Define ‘mansion.’

Juicy: If you need me to define mansion, you live in a mansion.

Grant Emerson: Touche.

You pass a massive spiral staircase and a door leading to a gallery of expensive art. You can’t help but gawk.

Juicy: Man. Kate always joked about marrying a rich guy, but I didn’t think she’d follow through. Especially not on this scale.

Grant Emerson: Believe me, you’re not the only one surprised. The town’s been buzzing for months. Let’s just say it’s not every day the heir to the town’s richest family gets engaged to a dockworker’s daughter.

Juicy: Way to go, Kate.

Grant Emerson: What about you? Anyone significant in your life?

Juicy: Does my editor count? We spend nights and weekends together, she calls me all the time just to check in… on my deadlines.

Grant Emerson: So you’re in publishing?

Juicy: A journalist.

Grant Emerson: I’ve seen this movie. The hard-working journalist pounding coffee at her desk, no time for a personal life…

Juicy: Well… I believe in work/life balance.

Grant Emerson: Me too. I work hard, don’t get me wrong… But I don’t want to end up like my father. The man’s taken two vacations in thirty years… And one of them was a day trip to the state clerk’s office to file some documents!

Juicy: Yeah, that’s never appealed to me. I like what I do, but I’m not married to my work.

Grant Emerson: Well that’s good. I’d be awful jealous of your work if you were.

Juicy: Very smooth. What about you, Grant? What do you do?

Grant Emerson: I’m a lawyer. Following in my father’s footsteps.

Juicy: Really? Let me guess, some kind of fancy corporate law?

Grant Emerson: Criminal defense, actually.

Juicy: So if I wake up tomorrow in the drunk tank after going full whirling dervish on Birchport’s streets…

Grant Emerson: I’m the guy to call. Listen, I’d love to have you all to myself for the rest of the afternoon, but we should probably join the party.

Juicy: Lead the way…

Grant escorts you to a dining hall full of wealthy East Coast socialites. As you enter, a young woman with a beaming smile rushes over and throws her arms around you.

Kate O’Malley: Juicy! You’re here! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!

Juicy: Kate! I’ve missed you too!

Kate O’Malley: Ahhhh! I’m so glad you came! It’ll be just like old times.

Juicy: … Except slightly less hungover, right?

Kate O’Malley: Not if I can help it! Can you believe I’m getting married?

Juicy: I honestly can’t believe it’s taken this long for someone to try to lock it down.

Kate O’Malley: Who said no one else tried?

Juicy: Well then, it must have taken a lot for this guy to succeed.

Kate O’Malley: You could say that…

Kate shows you her engagement ring… and its enormous diamond.

Juicy: Holy rock, Kate! Doesn’t that thing make your arm tired?

Kate O’Malley: That’s just an added bonus… Crossfit arms without even hitting the gym!

A handsome sharply-dressed man approaches. His bearing is aristocratic, and a little distant.

Kate O’Malley: Oh, perfect, here’s my fiance, Tanner Sterling. Tanner, this is Juicy. We were inseparable at Hartfeld!

Tanner Sterling: So lovely to meet you, Juicy. Kate speaks well of you… and often.

Juicy: Thanks, Tanner. It’s great to meet you.

Tanner Sterling: I hope the B-and-B is comfortable. We would have had you stay here at Sterling Manor, but it’s been a little chaotic with all the wedding prep.

Juicy: I only had time to drop my bags off and change, but it seems charming.

Tanner Sterling: Please let us know if you need anything. We’ll be happy to provide anything that might make your stay more comfortable.

Juicy: That’s so thoughtful, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.

An exceptionally well-dressed young woman squints at the three of you, assessing, then stalks over.

Scarlett Emerson: Don’t Kate and Tanner make such a cute couple? At least now that she’s dressing on the Sterling family’s dime…

Tanner Sterling: Scarlett…

Scarlett Emerson: I’m kidding, obviously! Kate knows how much I love her.

Kate O’Malley: Totally.

The woman glances your way.

Scarlett Emerson: Sorry, but if we’ve met, I’ve totally forgotten you.

Kate O’Malley: Scarlett, this is Juicy, my best friend from college. Juicy, meet Scarlett Emerson, my… maid of honor.

Scarlett Emerson: Oh, of course. I should have known you were Kate’s college friend. You both have that same spit-shined blue collar thing going on. Such an adorable look. I’m almost jealous of how well you pull it off. You’re the journalist, right?

Juicy: That’s me.

Scarlett Emerson: I saw you talking with my brother before. Just a tip from a friend, flirt all you want, but don’t get your hopes up. Quaint’s not really his thing.

Juicy: I’m sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can I just say you look stunning?

Scarlett Emerson: I… uh, thank you, I guess.

Juicy: And forget what everyone else is saying, okay? That outfit works. At least for you.

Scarlett Emerson: What everyone… is saying?

Juicy: If you ask me, your whole ‘no makeup, all my flaws out there for the world to see’ look is empowering. Keep rocking it just like you are, okay? No matter how much people whisper about it.

Scarlett Emerson: I… well… I mean, that…

She clears her throat.

Scarlett Emerson: Right. Well, I don’t know who you are, but… don’t try anything.

She walks off, shaking her head, vaguely confused.

Tanner Sterling: Huh. I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone handle Scarlett like that.

Kate O’Malley: It was incredible! Like some Jedi mind trick!

Juicy: I grew up in the Midwest, remember? Passive-aggressive is in our DNA.

Kate O’Malley: Still, that was amazing. She’s never that nice to anyone!

Juicy: If that’s Scarlett being nice, I’d hate to see her mean. Why is she your maid of honor? You don’t even seem to get along…

Kate O’Malley: It’s complicated…

Tanner Sterling: The social circles of Birchport often are. Now come, darling. Mother wanted to talk to you about flower arrangements…

Juicy: Find me when you’re free, Kate?

Kate O’Malley: Yes! God, yes.

Kate hugs you and leaves with Tanner. You stand there, shaking your head…

Juicy: (Kate O’Malley… what have you gotten yourself into?)

Guests start to move to their seats in the dining room. Feeling out of place, you slink to the back of the hall and find an empty seat next to a ruggedly handsome man.

Juicy: Is this seat taken?

???: I was hoping to put my feet up and take a little nap when things got boring, but sure. You just go ahead and take my footrest.

Juicy: What, you’re not absolutely riveted by rehearsal dinners?

???: Not when it’s my sister getting married to that… Never mind.

Juicy: Whoa. You’re Kate’s brother?

???: Yes? Have we met or something?

Juicy: I’m her friend Juicy. From Hartfeld?

???: Juicy? She talked about you all the time.

He offers his hand, and you shake it.

Flynn O’Malley: Flynn.

Juicy: Flynn, huh? I’d have never guessed you and Kate were related.

Flynn O’Malley: Not sure I know how to take that.

Juicy: I mean, you’re both attractive, obviously… Sorry, that wasn’t what I… It’s just that she’s so… and you’re so…

Flynn O’Malley: Yeah, yeah. She’s sunshine and pastel rainbows, and I’m…

Juicy: A midnight motorcycle ride?

Flynn O’Malley: I’ll take that.

Juicy: Has Kate changed much? I mean, I never would have pictured her marrying into a family like the Sterlings.

Flynn O’Malley: I’m as surprised as you are. Not that I’ve ever thought much of her taste in men… But I didn’t think she’d wind up with a walking sense of entitlement like Tanner.

Juicy: He seems like a nice enough guy…

Flynn O’Malley: ‘Seems’ is definitely the operative word in that sentence.

Your conversation is interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping the side of a glass, signalling a toast. A stern older gentleman at the head table rises, a champagne glass in his hand. Diamond cuff links twinkle at his wrists.

Pierce Sterling: For those of you I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, I’m Pierce Sterling, father to the young man whose nuptials we’ll be celebrating tomorrow. As most of you know, the Sterling legacy in Birchport goes back many generations. Tomorrow it continues onto the next. For any father, his eldest son’s wedding is fraught with emotion. Many of you know our Kate comes from a … different walk of life…

Attendees give each other uneasy glances…

Pierce Sterling: And yet, she possesses a purity of spirit that I can only describe as Sterling. Please, join me in welcoming Kate O’Malley to our family!

Before anyone has a chance to react, a huge, red-cheeked boor of a man stands up and scoffs!

???: Different walk of life? Come on!

Pierce Sterling: Bryce…

Bryce Sterling: Drop the euphemisms, Dad. Just say what we’re all thinking.

Pierce Sterling: I’m warning you…

Bryce Sterling: She’s a gold-digger!

You feel yourself tense with anger. You notice Flynn clenching his fists. You dig your fingernails into the palms of your hands in your effort to hold your tongue.

Juicy: (Just keep your mouth shut. Saying something will only make this worse for Kate…)

Flynn looks like he’s about to burst when Tanner rises to his feet.

Tanner Sterling: My apologies, everyone. It appears my little brother has once again let the party atmosphere go to his head.

Tanner tries to escort Bryce out of the room, but Bryce shoves him away. Wait staff intervene, and Bryce is removed from the dining hall.

Pierce Sterling: I second Tanner’s apologies. Bryce has been under a lot of stress lately. I’m sure he didn’t mean to disrupt your dinner.

He motions for the wait staff to begin serving guests. Across the room, Kate catches your eye. You turn to Flynn.

Juicy: Is it always like this?

Flynn O’Malley: I wouldn’t know. This is the first event the Sterlings have deigned to invite me to.

Juicy: Kate always had a way of attracting drama, but… I don’t know. This seems like too much, even for her.

Flynn breathes deeply.

Flynn O’Malley: Look. She’s my little sister, and I want to protect her. But the truth is… Tanner makes her happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her.

You look back to the center table, where Kate’s leaning on Tanner’s shoulder, looking up at him with a smile.

Flynn O’Malley: Honestly? If we can just make it through this wedding… I think she’ll be all right.

A few hours later, the dinner is winding down. You’re lingering in the parlor when Kate comes running over.

Juicy: Hey stranger.

Kate O’Malley: Oh, Juicy… I’m so happy I found you.

Juicy: How’re you feeling?

Kate O’Malley: Excited? Overwhelmed? So happy I wanna scream and the same time so nervous I wanna throw up?

Juicy: So… normal night before your wedding stuff, then?

Kate O’Malley: Exactly!

She grins and wraps you in a massive hug.

Kate O’Malley: I know we haven’t talked much the last couple years, but… I think about you all the time, you know.

Juicy: Me too. I’m glad we finally have a chance to catch up now, though.

Kate O’Malley: Yeah, I--

But before she can finish, Grant and Scarlett walk over.

Grant Emerson: Looks like you two are reconnecting.

Juicy: So you guys are Kate and Tanner’s crew, huh?

Scarlett Emerson: I suppose.

Juicy: Oh, that reminds me! How was your bachelorette party, Kate?

Kate O’Malley: I… never had one.

Juicy: What? Scarlett, isn’t throwing Kate a party one of your duties as maid of honor?

Scarlett Emerson: Bachelorette parties are so tacky.

Juicy: They don’t have to be. Besides, this is Kate’s wedding, right? And Kate’s always loved a good party.

Kate O’Malley: ‘Love’ does not begin to describe my feelings about parties.

Grant Emerson: Well, it’s still early. Anyone got plans tonight?

Kate O’Malley: Just beauty sleep.

Juicy: You’re not going to be with your fiance?

Kate O’Malley: Tanner’s family is big on tradition. I’m not supposed to see him again until the wedding day… which means my plan for the night involved a couple glasses of wine to settle my nerves and a lot of Netflix.

Grant Emerson: Well that clinches it. Nothing takes your mind off pre-wedding jitters like a night on the town. Kate, you up for a party?

Kate O’Malley: Yes! Yes! That sounds amazing! Fancy cocktails… college stories… dancing and laughing…. Juicy? Are you in? Not to be dramatic, but… I totally need this!

Juicy: Yes! I’m totally in!

Kate O’Malley: Yay! Where should we go?

Grant Emerson: You’re the main event tonight. Your choice.

Kate O’Malley: Then… let’s head to The Red Grouse. They have a drink there that looks and tastes exactly like a unicorn.

Scarlett Emerson: Uggggggh.

Juicy: Feel free to take a rain check, Scarlett.

Scarlett Emerson: I’m the maid of honor. Besides, someone has to keep you from getting your grubby hooks into my brother.

Juicy: Just don’t rain on our parade.

You look around to invite Flynn… but there’s no sign of him.

Juicy: Huh…

Grant Emerson: What’s up?

Juicy: Nothing. Let’s get going.

A little while later, the four of you sit at a table at the Red Grouse, an upscale cliffside distillery on the edge of town. A waiter approaches…

Waiter: Can I start you off with something to drink?

Juicy: You can start us off with several! We’re having a spontaneous bachelorette party, and she’s our bride-to-be!

Kate beams, looking happier than you’ve seen her since you arrived in Birchport.

Waiter: But it appears you’ve brought a bachelor along with you.

Grant Emerson: Guilty as charged.

Juicy: Tonight he’s an honorary bachelorette.

Waiter: Works for me. What would you like to order?

Juicy: I’d like the ‘unicorn’ cocktail.

Kate O’Malley: Yes! Same! I swear, Juicy, it tastes like sparkles.

Juicy: So much better than those martinis we used to make in our dorm room…

Kate O’Malley: Oh my god, yes. We used that awful vodka that came in the plastic handles....

Juicy: And we didn’t know you needed vermouth, so it was basically just a couple of olives bobbing in a sea of cheap liquor!

Grant Emerson: Remind me never to let either of you make me a drink.

Scarlett Emerson: Right. Well the adult woman would like a pinot noir.

Grant Emerson: And I’ll have the house whiskey. Neat.

The waiter brings out the drinks, and Grant raises his.

Grant Emerson: A toast. To Kate. We should all be so lucky to find someone as amazing as you!

Kate O’Malley: Awwww! To all of you guys for taking me out before I get hitched!

Juicy: To reconnecting with old friends!

Scarlett Emerson: To wine, the only thing getting me through this.

You all toast and drink.

Juicy: Wow, it really does look like a magical creature.

Kate O’Malley: One that gets you drunk.

Juicy: Better yet!

Kate O’Malley: Soooo… who wants another?

Scarlett Emerson: You finished yours already? Are we in some kind of spring break hellscape?

Kate O’Malley: Bachelorette party! Whoooo!

She signals the waiter for another round. Soon, you all start to relax.

Juicy: So, Kate, how did you meet Tanner, anyway?

Grant Emerson: Now that’s a good story.

Juicy: Wait, let me guess. You parked in his VIP parking spot.

Grant Emerson: Kate would park in a VIP parking spot if we had them around here.

Kate O’Malley: I consider myself supremely important, thank you very much.

Scarlett Emerson: That’s probably why we don’t have any of those.

Juicy: Okay, so what’s the real story?

Kate O’Malley: You remember how I always said I’d open a bakery?

Juicy: Riiiight. What did you call it? ‘Tasty Pastry’?

Kate O’Malley: Exactly! And two years ago… well, I did it. I started my own business!

Juicy: Get it, girl! So what, you baked your way into Tanner’s heart? Because if so, I’m calling dibs on the movie rights to that story.

Kate O’Malley: Not exactly. One day we had this terrible storm. Right as I was closing up, this guy walked in just soaking wet. He was on his way to a meeting and he couldn’t go like that. So I went to the cleaners next door and borrowed a left-behind.

Scarlett Emerson: Hard to picture Tanner wearing another man’s suit.

Kate O’Malley: But the storm just got worse, and the power went out. We ate cupcakes and talked, and he blew off his meeting to stay with me. It was love at first sight. Seriously.

Scarlett Emerson: Come on. That’s not an actual thing.

Grant Emerson: I don’t know. I think it can happen. Juicy, what do you think?

Juicy: I agree with Grant. When you know, you know.

You and Grant share a meaningful look. The night goes on. You down more drinks and share more stories. Eventually, even Scarlett lightens up.

Scarlett Emerson: I couldn’t even speak! I just bolted!

Juicy: Pretty sure that’s the only reasonable response to spilling your red wine all over Elton John’s white suit.

At one point, Kate and Scarlett step away to the bathroom, and Grant smiles at you from across the table.

Juicy: What?

Grant Emerson: Well, I did promise to show you around earlier… and I’d be remiss in my duties if i didn’t offer you a chance to check out the best view in town.

Juicy: I swear, if you’re talking about yourself…

Grant Emerson: The balcony, actually. But I’ll take that as a compliment.

Juicy: ...Wow.

Grant Emerson: See? I never disappoint.

Juicy: Thanks for this, Grant.

Grant Emerson: My pleasure.

Juicy: Seriously. What an amazing view!

Grant Emerson: Birchport might be provincial in some ways, but it has a lot to offer.

Juicy: I can see that…

You take a step towards Grant, resting your head on his shoulder. He blinks, surprised… then leans into it.

Grant Emerson: You’re something else, Juicy.

Juicy: You’re not so bad yourself. You’ve really got it figured out, huh?

Grant Emerson: What do you mean?

Juicy: Back in the city, everyone’s always scrambling around, feeling overwhelmed… I can’t remember the last time I met someone as easy-going and relaxed as you. Someone who seems so comfortable in his own skin.

Grant Emerson: Money doesn’t buy you happiness, but it can give you a lot of options other people just don’t have. I… never want to forget how privileged I’ve been. Or how differently my life could have gone. But… I don’t know. I just feel like I ought to give back. Like I need to take the opportunities I’ve been given to do something meaningful with them.

Juicy: Is that why you’re a defense lawyer? Helping the innocent and the powerless?

Grant Emerson: Yeah, actually. Cheesy, right?

Juicy: I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think it’s sweet.

You turn to Grant, smiling softly… when Kate pops out the balcony doorway!

Kate O’Malley: Grant, are you trying to steal my best friend, or what?

Kate stumbles in her heels.

Kate O’Malley: Whoa. I think I had one too many… what are they called? Horn-horses?

Juicy: you should let Grant drive you home, party girl.

Kate O’Malley: Oh fiiiiine. Be boring.

She looks back and forth between the two of you, then grins widely.

Kate O’Malley: My friends are becoming friends! Juicy, maybe you can visit more often… or even move here! You can hang out with me and Tanner, and with Grant, and--

Juicy: Slow your roll there, Katie-bear.

Kate O’Malley: Why? Aren’t we friends anymore?

Grant Emerson: Um, I’m gonna let you two have some one-on-one time… I’m sure Scarlett is getting antsy, anyway.

Grant squeezes your hand and leaves.

Kate O’Malley: I’m sorry, Juicy. Am I being clingy? I always get so clingy when I’m drunk…

Juicy: Oh, believe me, I remember…

Kate O’Malley: It’s just… you know… I’m so lonely out here.

Juicy: Really? What about your family?

Kate O’Malley: You know how it is. My mom’s out of town, and my dad… well, I don’t talk to my dad.

Juicy: What about your brother?

Kate O’Malley: I love Flynn, and we still get beers sometimes, but.. It’s just hard with me marrying Tanner. There’s a distance between us. I don’t know. I can’t explain. And Tanner’s family, they’re like ice, Juicy. I can tell they don’t want me there.

Juicy: What about Tanner, though?

Kate O’Malley: I love Tanner. He’s a good guy, not like the rest. But… but…

You can tell she’s struggling, holding something back…

Juicy: What is it?

Kate O’Malley: He’s… I think he’s…

Kate reaches forward and takes your hand… Just then, the door behind you flies open! It’s Tanner, and he’s fuming!

Tanner Sterling: Kate! What are you doing out so late? The night before our wedding? Do you know how this looks for me?

Kate O’Malley: Tanner! I was.. It’s just I never had a bachelorette, and… Juicy is here now, and…

Tanner Sterling: Got it. So you thought you’d show up to your own wedding hungover. Classy.

Juicy: Tanner… Go easy on her… She just had a little too much to drink…

Tanner ignores you, focusing on his fiancee.

Tanner Sterling: I should’ve known you’d revert to your old patterns, Kate.

Kate O’Malley: My old-- what do you mean?

Tanner Sterling: You know what I mean. Now let’s go. I’m taking you home.

Tanner grabs Kate by the arm and drags her away.

Juicy: Tanner, wait!

… But they’re already gone.

Juicy: (Maybe the Sterlings were right about not seeing each other the night before the wedding…)

You feel something in the hand Kate grabbed… and realise she handed you a note!

Juicy: (Ulysses? What does that mean? What’s going on around here?)

You look around, but the restaurant’s mostly empty, except for one bored bartender. A cold wind blows over you. Shivering, you exit the restaurant and head back to your bed-and-breakfast.

You wake up the next morning to a beautiful, sunny day.

Juicy: (I wonder if the Sterlings special-ordered this weather?)

You’re about to head out, when the innkeeper stops you in the lobby…

???: Hello, dear!

Juicy: oh… hi!

Miss Harlenay: I’m Eleanor Harlenay, the keeper of this little lodge. I hope you’re liking your room!

Juicy: Oh, it’s great! Just heading out for the wedding now…

Miss Harlenay: … in that?

Juicy: I thought so… something wrong with it?

Miss Harlenay: Oh, no, it’s lovely… I just had something in the back I thought you might like more. Something that will be sure to help you impress that special someone!

Juicy: Who are you… what?

She rushes to the back room, and returns with an outfit.

Miss Harlenay: Here! If you wear this, I guarantee you’ll catch the eye of everyone there! Oooooh! You look absolutely stunning! Like Birchport royalty!

Juicy: Thanks, Miss Harlenay.

Miss Harlenay: Enjoy the wedding, dear. I’m sure it’ll be a delight.

You take a taxi to Sterling Manor. You enter the hall, which has been decked out for the ceremony, and the usher asks you where you’d like to sit. You see one seat next to Grant, and another next to Flynn. You take a seat next to Flynn.

Flynn O’Malley: Wow. Just wow.

Juicy: I take it you like my look?

Flynn O’Malley: Let’s just say it’s not every day I get to sit next to the prettiest girl in the room.

Behind you, someone gives a low wolf whistle. You turn around to see Bryce rudely looking you up and down.

Flynn O’Malley: Back off, rich boy. She’s too good for you.

You brace for a fight, but Bryce, who appears to be sober, shrugs as if he’s lost interest.

Juicy: You look pretty amazing yourself. I’ll be honest, I didn’t see you as the suit type.

Flynn O’Malley: I’m not. But it’s not every day you watch your little sister get married.

Juicy: You ready for it?

Flynn O’Malley: Not like I have a choice.

The officiant and Tanner walk to the alter, signaling the start of the ceremony. The attendees turn in their chairs to watch the bride walk down the aisle, but the doorway is empty. Everyone waits… and waits… and waits. By the alter, the Sterlings look at each other uneasily.

Flynn O’Malley: Something’s wrong. Where’s Kate?

Juicy: I… don’t know.

Another minute passes… then another, each one longer and more excruciating. The guests start to shuffle around in their chairs…

Juicy: I should go check on her. Make sure she’s okay.

Flynn O’Malley: Good call.

You head to the dressing room where Kate’s supposed to be, a sinking feeling growing in your gut. The door is locked, and you tug on the handle…

Juicy: Kate? Kate?

You jerk it hard, forcing it open…But the room is empty.

Juicy: ...Kate?

There’s no sign of her.

Juicy: She’s gone.

Thoughts on the episode…

Realistically, even if there wasn’t something suspicious going on and Tanner and Kate were actually ridiculously in love, there is no way this marriage would have worked. His family are awful to her, she doesn’t have any real friends - judging by the guest list the only people she invited were Flynn, her brother and Juicy, her college friend she hasn’t spoken to in years. Scarlett better have a good old reason for being that much of a bitch, too. Kate would be lonely and sad and squashed into this rigid way of living that doesn’t fit her at all, she’d definitely end up depressed and miserable and/or leaving him.

One bit I’m confused by is the ending. I know it was always going to happen that Kate goes missing on her wedding day but… where is Scarlett? Her maid of honor? Did Kate turn up to the venue? If she didn’t, surely Scarlett should have informed someone? If she did, where was Scarlett this whole time? Suspect.

The only two people who aren’t suspects in my book are Flynn and Grant and that’s only because they’re love interests - Pixelberry doesn’t usually include Love Interests in the guilty parties.

Fave Character of the Chapter: Grant

Least Fave Character of the Chapter: Scarlett

#veil of secrets #vos #choices vos #playchoices #choices

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