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livums · 1 year ago

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a means of ensuring order. {🌹}

Hi again! I capitalized on some free time (shocker) and tried my hand at writing an event from the beginning of Demigods from Nysa's POV! I think I like it??? So... great!

Anyways, enjoy!

Featuring:

Princess Nyséan (ny-SHAWN)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

(tag, DM, reply, or fill out this google form to be added/removed from taglists)

General taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @outpost51

The Romance of the Demigods taglist: @aalinaaaaaa @sarahlizziewrites @thecrookedwriterspath @inkspellangel @crystal-librarian @hallwriteblr @bluberimufim

The first time the Church tried to kill her, Nyséan did not know how to respond. So, she told no one, and went about her evening. No one had ever before, to her knowledge, made an attempt on her life. Nyséan had long known that there was no great fondness for her among the peers of the realm. When her back was turned, they would call her things like ‘standoffish’ and ‘curt’. This was no slander, for she rarely employed the pleasantries or the delicate tricks of speech required by one of her station—damn near the highest station in the realm. Naturally, popularity eluded her. But this was not the offense for which she would be murdered.

From a plush chair—the perch to which she’d fled after that first sip—Nyséan eyed the cup of apple cider. It rested innocently on the tea table across the length of the drawing room. Candles burned ever lower in their sconces, and Nyséan did not take her eyes off the cup. The taste of the drink stained her tongue and her palate—far too sweet. Something sinister and bitter lurked beneath the sugar. Or, perhaps it was not at all so. Perhaps, in her vigilance, she had imagined the change in taste. Perhaps her recent conversation with the Archbishop had set her senses on edge. But Nyséan devoted her scarce-given trust to her own intuition above all else. She performed the same routine nightly—a stroll in the gardens, an hour in the library (after a concerned word from Father, she restricted herself in this regard), and, after dressing for bed, taking a sweet drink of the season in her drawing room while she composed, relaxed, or more likely, fretted. Without fail, it was so. So tonight, when the first taste of the cider had kissed her tongue and coated it with something so slightly different, she had spat it back into the cup without hesitation. Now, hardly realizing, Nyséan pulled her knees up to her chest, letting the chair cradle her and her gown swaddle her in its volume. Her mind raced in tandem with her heartbeat. When she tried desperately to recall the past moon or so, her memory would yield only thoughts of the Archbishop, of Father, and, naturally, of the Hierophant.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Father had summoned her just after Midsummer. The perfect opportunity, she thought, to convince him of the Church’s ill guidance. It made her uneasy how, this year, the palace had only sparsely been decorated in the typical fashion, in the artisanal goods set out to please the Queen of the Earth, and the King of the Sky. Nyséan had not seen a single soul scattering family ashes, even. She wondered if the Earth and Sky took note. She wondered if they cared, anymore. It turned her stomach. The night before, she had witnessed a mere smattering of dances and fires, desperate to catch on in the heavy and solemn aura of the Church and its clergy. They’d not mandated a thing—not by official means. Even so, Nyséan could feel the power of the Host’s influence. It was evident in the way that the bonfires died shortly after sunset, in the way that the quiet singing and strumming of their priests took the place of the unabashed celebration of the peers, the servants, and other commonfolk. No true celebration of Midsummer. More and more of the nobility were electing to attend the sanctuaries instead, anyway. The Church of the Sonnelic Host, those who held to the so-called New Way—to them, the day was known as Second Apsidia. It was, like First Apsidia in the year’s earliest moons, a time of contemplation in honor of their god-of-gods, the very sun in the Sky. Or, rather, the sun in the Stellar Stratum, for it—or “He”—was much too great a god to be contained in something as small as the Sky. A scant three or four years ago, Nyséan recalled, the New Way faithful would hole themselves up in their sanctuaries and leave well enough alone. Now, it was simply not so. Thusly had Nyséan’s thoughts had been clouded as she drifted through the ashen stone corridors of the royal palace.

Before turning a final corner, she was halted by her reflection in a tall, slender mirror hung upon the wall. Nestled among paintings large and small, landscapes and portraits, she beheld her own self. Dark eyes were set amid twin clouds of pale skin that brushed over her temples, her cheekbones. Against her warm brown skin, the contrast was stark. Similar pearly nebulae crested above her neckline, along the span of her clavicle and her shoulders left unobscured by her gown. Her spine straightened itself as her impassive eyes trailed lower. Behind her, the dark coils of her hair that swished and billowed when she walked now hovered still about her shoulders. Her soft hands, clasped together loosely in front of her, were more richly dappled by the pale skin than some other parts of her body. Past the second knuckle, her fingers were almost entirely without pigment. ‘Moon-kissed’ was perhaps the kindest thing anyone had ever said of her. Anyone aside from Father—he had long been her only ally. But she could feel this changing more and more every day. A pair of house guards stood attendant at the doorway to his antechamber, deep in the embrace of the keep. At her approach, they parted the doors without delay. Aside from his most longstanding and familiar servants, only two people were allowed anymore into the King’s rooms: his daughter, and his physician. So, when Nyséan saw the Archbishop of the Host in her father’s sitting room, she was horrified. The woman rose from her chair with a startling youthful fluidity. She was tall. A sheer curtain of hair the color of platinum parted at the middle to frame a white and smiling face. The hair shimmered as her ivory-colored robes did, flowing like water when she moved—and sometimes when she didn’t. The Archbishop curtseyed deeper than necessary for one of her standing. To Nyséan, it was yet another layer of grotesquerie. “Your Highness.” The pale woman straightened to her full and eerie height. She looked rather like a bird, tilting its head to inspect something edible. “You honor this servant with your audience.” Nyséan felt her nails dig into the skin of her hand. Her response was quick, and clipped: “I came because my father called. No one told me that we would be joined by a guest.” “You wouldn’t have come if I had,” rasped the King. Nyséan turned her head with some reluctance to regard her father. Someone had helped him into his wheeled seat—Nyséan blessed the soul who had first devised such a contraption—and he had positioned it across the sleek low table from the Archbishop. The brown of King Hasteor’s skin had faded even lighter in recent years, and fatigue seemed to burden his eyes no matter how long he rested in bed. It did uncomfortable things to her stomach, seeing him so. She hadn’t seen much of him at all, these past moons. And the less she saw of him, the more she dreaded laying eyes on him again. And the more her dread mounted, the more she found herself avoiding his presence. She hated herself for it. Her father went on, in that voice that had dimmed as his illness had advanced: “Actira, you must forgive the princess. Although—“ He raised a hand, and gestured toward his daughter. “I’ve not seen nearly this much expression on her face in years. You have my gratitude.” His upper lip, concealed by a beard barely graying, coaxed the rest of his face into a smile. Despite the humor in his mien, his directives brokered no argument. He pointed to a third seat, a sofa. “Nyséan. Sit.”

Nyséan realized that she had stopped dead at the threshold between the antechamber and the sitting room. A stilted gait carried her forward, one reluctant foot after another. Her eyes did not once stray from the Archbishop’s face. They hovered on the woman’s nose (dainty, small) and mouth (wide. Smile unending). The instant Nyséan felt the seat cushion beneath her, the Archbishop was re-perching on her own chair. A ripple coursed down her robes, leaving subtle, cascading twinkles as it went. “I will explain my intentions.” The Archbishop arranged her hands upon her lap in a manner most formal, but Nyséan espied a giddy anticipation in the way that they moved. Where her father was drained of energy, the Archbishop overflowed with it. “Your Highness is a woman of a great many virtues and admirable qualities, as you yourself must certainly be aware.” Nyséan was not aware. The woman went on anyway: “And your future—the future of the realm—would of no doubt be chief among Your Highness’s worries. This, of course, is the mark of a truly extraordinary ruler-to-be—we subjects of the realm are terribly fortunate—“ Nyséan had stopped listening. “You’re explaining nothing,” she said. The Archbishop took in a breath to continue—she had either been perfectly prepared for the princess to interrupt her, or she did not care at all—but before she could speak, Father interjected. “The Hierophant.” The strength in her father’s voice surprised Nyséan, but it was quick to soften. It was as if he had cut in before realizing exactly what it was that he wanted to say. “Twenty-three… You are well of an age… The good Archbishop and I have been in talks…” Nyséan’s stare was blank. Father finally found the words. “It would be of great benefit to the realm,” he said, gently, “if you and the Sonnelic Hierophant were to wed.” She waited, and said nothing. He spoke the truth of the matter. “You and the Hierophant will be betrothed.”

Nyséan blinked. “No.” The Archbishop leaned forward, her flowery, gushing language at the ready. “His Radiance is amenable to—“ “No.” “Nyséan—“ “He is enthusiastic to meet—“ “I said no!” The shout tore desperately out of her body, which jolted in its wake. The sound of it lanced like lightning through the quiet grace of the opulent sitting room. It was dizzying, the grave understanding that wrapped its slow and steady talons about her torso. Nyséan felt her breath shorten. A delicate silence followed. Nyséan’s wide eyes were pointed downward, at her trembling hands. She did not look up at the King. She knew that she would only see him avoiding her gaze if she did. The Archbishop was the first to speak again. Softly, as if consoling a small child or a frightened animal: “If Your Highness would consider seeing him, speaking with him,” she said. “I believe you will find His Radiance most appealing.” Ignoring her, Nyséan finally turned to the King with entreaty. “But you said—“ “Nyséan, the realm…” His tone mirrored the Archbishop’s. She hated it. “Brennenhaugh is rapidly approaching unrest—Old Way, New Way…” At this, Nyséan heard the Archbishop snort. “When I am gone, you will be without a means of ensuring order. I refuse to burden you with a kingdom in crisis. The good Archbishop graciously furnishes us with a solution.” Nyséan heard beneath the King’s words a truth that he may or may not have intended: If people liked you more, it might not have come to this. Helplessly, she repeated herself: “But you said.” “Meet the young man, Nyséan.” A sudden fury drove her off the sofa. Standing, Nyséan turned to regard the wispy Archbishop. She jabbed a finger in the woman’s direction. The interloper was unperturbed. “Keep yourself and your faithful away from my father,” Nyséan hissed. “I won’t let you take advantage of him any more than you already—” “Nyséan!” The King must have exhausted much of his strength in the one bellow, for he deflated gradually as he spoke on: “My wits are not gone just yet. This is a decision I make in sound mind.” Despite his diminishing volume, Nyséan could not mistake the resolve there.

She fixed her anger on him. “Before, you would have been the first to say that it’s a fool who slights the Fae-Gods. What do you think this is?” “This is in your best interest. I need you to understand this. I thought—“ He hesitated, and the last remnants of sternness in his voice were no more. “Nyséan, I thought I would have more time to set this kingdom right for you.” She said nothing. She had no choice—something too big for words was trying to fight its way into language. But it was in vain. It was all Nyséan could do to keep herself standing. “The Church holds more influence in the realm with every passing day. This is all that I can do for you, now.” Her mouth hung open, desperate for the words to come. They did not. She shook her head. Nyséan did not move again until the Archbishop spoke. “As I endeavored to mention…” Her voice might have soothed a thousand serpents. “…His Radiance desires to arrange a meeting. You will find that he is nothing sort of…” Nyséan stopped hearing the woman. The words were far away, taunting her. Mute, she turned her back on the Archbishop, and the King, and left the sitting room. Distantly, she could hear the woman speaking to him with urgency. The hurried shuffling of cloth, and the telltale tapping of shoes on sleek stone tiles followed behind. “Your Highness!” Nyséan did not stop moving through the antechamber, towards the outer doors that would release her back into the corridors of the keep. The Archbishop, on her long and presumably spindly legs, soon fell into step with her.

“His Radiance has expressed to me that he wishes so ardently to meet you,” she said. “I’ve watched over him since he was a babe, Your Highness. He will make a strong and loving husband.” The Archbishop leaned in then, as if the two of them were sharing a joke. Nyséan kept her eyes forward. “And he is quite handsome—” Pivoting on her heel, Nyséan whirled on the Archbishop. Words grew hot in her mouth, and she spat them at the woman. “Tell your prophet I’d sooner leap from a balcony—or slit my skin—or swallow poison than hand your Church the reins to my kingdom.” The Archbishop receded coolly to her full height. Not once did her demeanor waver, but Nyséan saw—or perhaps appended to the memory upon reflection—the slightest tightening of the woman’s smile. After a moment, the Archbishop dipped into another curtsey. “Your Highness.” She turned and walked serenely back the way she had come.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It had not been Nyséan’s intention to give the Church any ideas. Yet before her sat the fruit of their inspiration—a poisoned cup. A princess who should be dead. She was eventually able to unfurl herself and approach the cider. Peering into it, it appeared perfectly normal. She leaned forward to sniff at it, then stopped herself abruptly. What sort of death had the Church designed for her? Would it have been gentle, as sleeping? A burning fever? Violent, bloody, choking agony? There were a seemingly infinite abundance of rules by which Nyséan knew she, as princess of the realm, must abide. Many were enshrined in law. Many had been passed down to her through the King’s patient guidance. And still many more were the unspoken, the invisible, those which were just Known. It was these that she so often failed—these courteous tools, these sleights of the tongue. The more she grasped at them, the more they eluded her understanding. After a time, this ceased to frustrate her, and continued to frustrate everyone else. But now, Nyséan found herself wondering whether or not a more thorough knowledge of these rules might have been useful, for she was beginning to realize that she did not know how to react in the wake of an assassination attempt. First, she paced about the perimeter of her drawing room. This way and that, minute after minute after minute. Next, she opened the door that led back into the keep. A house guard stood at attention on either side of the doorway, as was typical. For the first time, Nyséan eyed their faces. If they paid her any mind, they did not show it. She soon retreated. Then, she took the cup in trembling hand and flung the cider out a window. And, well, after that, what more could be done? Had she drank the poison and died, it was perfectly reasonable that no one would find her until morning’s light. She could see little point in disrupting the remainder of her nighttime routine. Nyséan returned to her original seat—her desk chair. By waning candlelight, she continued to write, and pretended to be dead for a while.

#writeblr #wip excerpt #writblr #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #my WIPs #{roses there are many}

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frodo-with-glasses · 2 years ago

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More Reading Thoughts: Many Partings

Oh, oh oh oh, the chapter title is a mirror to the Fellowship chapter “Many Meetings”, don’t touch me I am cri

Aragorn: “Hello! Don’t ask; I know you want to go back home.” Frodo: “I do. I want to see Bilbo even more. I was sad to see he didn’t come with the others.” Aragorn: “Well, he’s getting really old, dude.” Frodo: “EXACTLY WHY I NEED TO GO.”

In which Arwen gives Frodo her golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s choco—I mean Valinor

Oh and he also gets another necklace

Eeeeyyy resolution to Eomer and Gimli’s little spat!

Eomer and Gimli are the politest, most gentlemanly simps ever

I love how much effort the book puts into acknowledging how honored Theoden was. Eowyn’s fear was that her family would be disgraced and forgotten, with no more dignity than a peasant living in a dirty thatched hut, but all this pomp and circumstance proves that the line of Eorl is still honored and respected and loved.

GHAN-BURI-GHAN

THE CHAD AND HIS HOMIES RETURN

HELLO I LOVE YOU WE WILL LEAVE YOU ALONE GOODBYE

I got so emotional about the drums, bruh, that’s literally beautiful ;~;

MERRRYYYYY *sobs*

I LOVE YOU MY SON. AAAAHHHH TToTT

“HAIL, EOMER, KING OF THE MARK!”

They’re in good hands.

Trothplighted! Now THAT’S a word!!

Aww, Eowyn and Faramir got engaged in Rohan! That’s cute :-3

Well there go all my goofy headcanons about Eomer being a cranky, overprotective brother and giving Faramir the side-eye. Even he just likes him automatically. Bummer. And here I was hoping for some funny family drama!

Eowyn: “Whaddya think of that, former crush? :-3” Aragorn: “Couldn’t be prouder :-D”

Okay yeah so when I read the last chapter, I wrote this thing at 3 AM like “kinda not digging how the book barely mentions what angst Elrond would be feeling over never seeing his daughter again ever; even the movies take the time to explore that (even if they paint Elrond as the bad guy who gets in the way of love)”, but at least here Tolkien gives us a mention of it. That’s nice. Please don’t just ignore Elrond’s feelings, the man’s been through enough.

OOH! A gift?? A gift for Merry??? I’m very interested—!!

GASP IT’S THE HORN

THAT’S GONNA BE VERY IMPORTANT ISN’T IT

PRETTY SURE I’M REMEMBERING SOMETHING ABOUT THE SCOURING OF THE SHIRE AND THE HORN BEING VERY IMPORTANT

Aaaand they all hug! Awww!! TTuTT I’m gonna have so much fun drawing this LOL

“And they drank the stirrup-cup”. Thanks to this line and Google, I have now learned a thing about the traditions of the Scottish Highlanders.

Legolas, upon visiting a cave: “Welp, you beat me. I like caves now.”

TREEBEEEEEARD!!

QUICKBEEEEEEEAAAMM!!!

MY FAVORITE TREES I LOVE YOU GUYS

In which Treebeard cusses out orcs in Entish

In which Treebeard admits that he bored Saruman nearly to death!!

Oof, that’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, King Tree ol’ pal. But I forgive you. I won’t call mercy a weakness.

I love the mental image of Quickbeam bowing “like a tree bending in the wind”. They are not VERY bendable, but they can be a little bit!

There are no Entings :-C

Gimli, begrudgingly: “FINE I’ll visit the forest, I guess.”

Gimli calling them “my hobbits” noooo 😭😖😭😫🤧😭😭

STOP SAYING “I fear we shall never meet again”, IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Bye, Legolas; bye, Gimli! Love ya both, you hilarious nerds.

Merry and Pippin get one last drink with Treebeard! Yaaaay!! 8-D

Bye, King Tree, I love you!

Aragorn threatening to spy on Pippin and call him back in service to Minas Tirith is hilarious and very on-brand

Ooh, red sunset and a green flame…wow.

That’s so evocative and I can’t find the words to express why.

Bye, Aragorn. Love ya, long man.

Well, well, well! Bo and lehold, look what the cat drug in! It’s Saruman!

Me when Saruman chews out Gandalf: LOL

Me when Saruman breathes wrongly in Galadriel’s direction: oh he’s dead 8-.

Y’know, it’s funny. Grima’s fear of leaving Saruman is a lot like the fear people often have of leaving abusive relationships. However, Grima has everything he’d need to actually make a departure, things that other people stuck in abusive relationships might not—a support system, financial freedom, another place to stay, and people who would help and protect him—and yet he chooses none of it, and goes back to his oppressor. Fascinating.

OOP. OKAY SARUMAN TALKING TO THE HOBBITS NOW, EVERYBODY SHUT UP.

Saruman: “You cruel little urchins. Come to mock an old beggar, have you? I’ll bet you wouldn’t even give me a bit of pipe weed.” Frodo: “I would if I had any.”

That is the KINDEST 1000 IQ gigachad own I have EVER seen. Frodo like, “I have gone through untold hell, but you can’t make me cruel to you, no matter how much you try.” LIFE GOAL: BE LIKE FRODO

And Merry like, “Here, I’ve got some pipeweed, you can have it back.” My favorite hobbits, everyone. The chads. The absolute legends.

*mutters to self* “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; and in doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head…”

Merry’s sarcastic “thank you!” to the curse on the Southfarthing tho X’-D

Merry: “Can I have my bag back?” Saruman, a petty wet sock: “NO”

I wonder if the Shire has a thing where you can like. Sue for damages to person or property. ‘Cause that seems to be what Pippin is implying here by “what about our claim for kidnapping us”. In which case, Pippin half-joking about suing a wizard is VERY HECKING FUNNY

Also would like to point out that Sam didn’t say a word until Saruman was gone. I can only imagine he was just sitting in the background glaring at him the whole time.

Aaaand they let him go. Hahaha. Doom.

In which Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond speak in telepathy, wooo~

In which Sam still wants to see Elves, even after he’s been riding with Elves this whole time

BILBOOOOOOOOOO

BILBO MY LOVE I’VE MISSED YOU

Just the fact that the hobbits run to find him without taking off their coats or eating or washing up. That’s like charging into a house to see somebody, with your coat and shoes still on, leaving dirt on the carpet but neither of you care. It’s so emotional and full of love and I just aaaaahhhh— 🥹😭🥹🤧😭

Bilbo will never not be competitive, LOL! “I wanna be older than the Old Took!”

“How splendid! How wonderful! But where were we?” Bilbo I love you

“Yeah I was invited to Aragorn’s wedding and all that, but I was busy and I didn’t want to pack.” BILBO I LOVE YOU

“Didn’t go to the wedding because I couldn’t be arsed” is such a HUGE MOOD

Ohh, the melancholy of watching the weather changing and knowing you’ll soon have to leave

Also Frodo and Sam same brain

“Except the Sea.” Stopppp I’m gonna cry—

“To their delight, Gandalf said: ‘I think I shall come too. At least as far as Bree. I want to see Butterbur.’” AND ROAST HIS TOES

Aww Bilbo getting old and forgetful. It hurts, but it’s so sweet ;u;

“May come in useful, if you think of getting married, Sam.” 8-D 8-D 8-D hahaha yesss, tease the boy

Bilbo: “I don’t have gifts for you.” Pippin: “Okay, but consider: what if we sass you?” Bilbo: “Haha, you make me so proud! I lied. Have some pipes.”

Bilbo: “B-T-dubs, where’s my ring?” Frodo: “Er, I kind of threw it into a volcano, Bilbo.” Bilbo: “Oh, yes, that’s right! That’s what the whole thing was about, isn’t it? Silly me.”

Bilbo being just as interested in oliphaunts as Sam ;u;

REPRISE OF “THE ROAD GOES EVER ON!” SHUT UP I CRI

Just the way they let him nap for a while before talking again. It’s such natural comedy, and also very sweet and warm and full of love and just aaaaahhhh

Also Frodo agreeing to finish Bilbo’s work. There’s something so emotional about that. Makes me think of Christopher and all the work he did to preserve his father’s notes…I wonder if he ever made the connection himself. I wonder if he saw himself as his dad’s Frodo.

And we end with some foooooreshadowing….

Friendly reminder to everyone who complains that the RotK movie has like five different endings and that’s too many: The book is worse. The book is so, SO much worse. 🤣

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touloserlautrec · 1 year ago

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Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thanks for the tag, @ntzsche9! You can find their answers here — and there are some absolute bangers in there.

Gently, no pressure tagging: @camillenrose @pandoras-comment-box @scribe-of-stories @thatndginger @sunset-a-story

1. What motivates you to write?

I can’t not think about stories. If I didn’t write (or pressure @sunset-a-story into co-writing a given scene XD oopsies), I’d just go out of my mind with stories bursting from the seams. It’s how I mainline dopamine.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Probably this excerpt from Arc 1:

Mackenzie held her eyes for a moment amidst the table’s laughter. It seemed like nothing could ever make her flinch. “The reality is, there is no fairness,” she said. Her voice was rich and deep like velvet wrapped around a sharp knife. “No justice, no karma, no great equalizer. Not even death.” The table fell silent as she spoke. The woman knew how to command attention and respect. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my days, it’s that we’re not built to hold it in our fragile minds-- this reality that no amount of integrity, righteousness, or fortitude will overcome the affliction of human nature.” She looked at each of them, straight in the eyes. “But if there’s another thing I’ve learned, it’s that those same fragile minds are a weapon. We’re not built to hold that knowledge because that knowledge is useless to us.” Her voice hardened. “This is a war of attrition. Our fragile minds may shatter like glass at that knowledge but shattered glass can slice a man’s throat. Even the tiniest shards can cut up your insides and kill you if you’re made to swallow them. Death may not equalize the world, but it can damn well make a man piss himself. So we let our minds block out the parts that hold us back and we’ll force-feed them the undoing they’ve sown. There have been days when I’ve known everything there is to know, and I can’t hold it all forever, but the one thing that I can’t un-know is that things change. They mutate because of some small itch or tiny displacement. Just look at us. Knacks. Mutations. Impossible changes. Motherfucking pearls.” She picked up the bottle of scotch and started pouring again. “So, Fredericka. You were robbed. They will try to make you thank them for it. Don’t give that to them. Instead, keep your head held high and make them choke on it.”

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Oooh how do I choose from my babies???? I think Alex is probably the head of the pack— he’s just got so much growth and bravery, and it’s comforting that he lives inside me. On the other hand, Emmett is a very strong contender because he’s such an unhinged, confident person, who does absolutely nonsense things. I can’t help but cackle along with him, and I try to channel him when I need to be confident.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I think it’s probably gotta be characters. I think I am pretty good at coming up with interesting, well-rounded characters with unique voices, and writing their inner dialogue and inner workings to further flesh them out.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

The engagement and encouragement. It was starting to really get crushing to constantly post things to Facebook and Instagram and get pretty much no response, so having a place where people are actively encouraging and lifting each other up feels really good and motivating.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Hmm. Google docs has been a life saver in co-writing and organizing this behemoth of a story. The other thing, weird as it may seem, is drawing— drawing and seeing my characters helps me feel inspired to write/brainstorm more story, and vice versa.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

My favorite piece of world building is The Church. Their weird way station homes, the constant sense of grossness and pared down utilitarianism that comes with being nomadic and single-minded. Their unflagging faith and spirituality of all different sorts. The most welcoming, safest, unwavering hospitality. I love the weird combination of those things. It also lets me indulge my lil’ pagan heart (even with non-pagan characters tbh, because the way they interact with any God(ess)/Spirit/Being, no matter which religion, has so much conviction and deep knowing that it is True and Real and Manifest). Their lifestyle and mission is so compelling to me.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

We’re always taught to write with the audience in mind, and to an extent that’s true, but first and foremost, write what you want to read, write because it’s fun, and then read your own stuff over and over because you love it and it inspires you to keep going. Read other work too, don’t get me wrong, but just… let yourself enjoy it. Be your own fandom.

#sunset a story #tag game

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novelmonger · 1 year ago

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A few reasons that I, personally, believe God is real

There are many compelling theological, philosophical, historical, and scientific reasons to believe in God, but I'll leave those for others smarter than I am to enumerate them. Today, I just wanted to give a short, non-exhaustive list of why I believe in God, just from my own personal experience, because I think that can be just as compelling as the most well-written work of apologetics.

If God doesn't exist, what's the point? Why do good things? Why love? Why not just jump off a bridge or stay in bed forever? If God doesn't exist, then heaven doesn't exist, and we really are all just animals with no further purpose than to keep living until we die and become dirt. I'd rather believe there's a greater story being told, with an actual purpose and direction to my life, than just plodding along in a world devoid of hope.

I've known too many people and heard too many stories of people giving up everything for the sake of Christ and the gospel, including my own parents. If so many people, across so many countries and thousands of years, think God is worth everything they have to give, there has to be something to it.

When I look at a beautiful sunset, or hear a bird call, or smell a lilac, or feel the sun on my skin and a cool breeze in my hair, it's impossible for me to believe that any of that could be the result of chance. Such beauty feels created, the same way a symphony sounds different from someone plunking random keys on a piano.

When I ask God for comfort, when I'm crying in the middle of the night and can't find rest, when I'm at my lowest and cry out to God for help, I can feel His comfort. Sometimes, I just find myself drawing a deeper breath and calming down. A few times, I've felt a physical weight on my chest, like the hand of a father as he tucks his daughter in.

Sometimes, when I least expect it (whether I'm praying for an answer or not), a Bible verse will suddenly pop into my mind, sometimes one that I haven't thought of in a long time or didn't think I'd even memorized, verses I had to Google to find out where they were, but they perfectly addressed my need in that moment. I've read the whole Bible multiple times before, so clearly they were in my head somewhere, but I believe God pulled them to the forefront of my mind when I needed them. This is how I believe the Holy Spirit speaks to me, rather than with audible words.

Every time I've prayed for help, healing, wisdom, protection, peace...I've gotten an answer. It's not always an immediate answer, it's not always the one I want or expect, but I can always point to something that answers my request. Too many times, things have "just happened" to work out in ways I never would have expected. It's too consistent to be a coincidence.

I am a writer. I live and breathe stories. Stories are how I make sense of the world. Why? Why would I care about stories staying true to their themes, about character growth, about the climax and the eucatastrophe and the happy endings, if I'm just an animal? Why have stories been so important for the entirety of human history? The only answer that makes sense to me is that we are characters in the hands of the Great Storyteller, trying in our own fumbling ways to do what He does.

Please feel free to add to this list with your own personal reasons! I may add onto it myself later.

#christianity

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murderoushagthesequel · 2 years ago

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my cover for teach them how to dream by @im-still-tryin-to-find-it is done!

the full image is here, and below the ~keep reading~ will be the front cover, spine, and back cover individually in better quality with explanations (this will include minor spoilers, mainly references to specific scenes i think are cute)

for those of you that haven’t read tthtd and don’t want spoilers, read it! you won’t regret it. if the color and joy i tried to convey on this cover is any sign, it’s every bit as cute and bright as i’ve drawn it.

---

front cover (click for better quality):

so the front cover obviously has the most easter eggs, but i’ll explain them all here for all y’all who are interested:

the stars above the blackboard are meant to resemble the glow-in-the-dark stars that are referenced a few times throughout the story

i really hope some of you get this but i added those white/blackboard borders teachers would always put up with fun patterns on them, i picked the alphabet

the chalkboard drawings!

a stack of chocolate chip pancakes because harry is obsessed with them

a whisk from james and regulus' halloween costumes

a text convo because the texting is pretty important in this fic

the framed poem!!

forget-me-nots because they just remind me of jegulus

snowflakes and hearts because of james’ love confession on christmas

butterflies flying in the shape of a heart: one is red for james and one is green for regulus

and finally a sunrise/sunset because james texting reg sunrise/sunset pictures!

ofc regulus likes reading in general but i drew the books specifically thinking about when regulus goes to lily’s bookstore and they first become friends

a pen cup both because it’s a classroom and because i wanted a way to represent regulus and james’ love of writing (thinking about the scene where regulus just looks at james' empty google doc and starts writing)

a rotten apple to reference one of my favorite scenes, chapter 6: the apple orchard, when regulus and james are talking about the kids finding rotten apples and then james has to eat one because harry asks him to

the desk, idk why i just picture regulus having this needlessly fancy wooden desk

and finally the sun streaming through the windows, i’ll explain a bit more when i get to the back cover

spine (click for better quality):

not much to go over here but

used the ao3 logo as a publisher mark

same writing of the title as the front cover but in solid writing instead of chalk

paint splatters for the background!

back cover (click for better quality):

starting with the background, again we got paint splatters

most books have a review on the back so i included an excerpt of my own review at the top

then one of my favorite quotes which is just so cute shut up don’t talk to me (this quote is part of the reason i included the sun streaming through the windows on the front cover)

and the official description by gabby from ao3

i used hearts as a separator between the words just because love!

and there are little doodles around both to fill space and also for the vibes

copied the cover art credit format from some books but without the publisher cuz there is none

and then the barcode! believe it or not there’s a lot here:

first of all the price, books in the us usually have prices written like that but the second one is canada- i changed it to international because it's the internet! and the marauders fandom is international!

the barcode itself is made up i just drew it

but the numbers are code for a series of letters (the alphabet where every 10 letters is assigned to the numbers 0-9) it spells “caught the moon” which is a reference to regulus and sirius’ memory of sneaking out to go capture the moon

and the qr code is a real qr code that leads you to the first chapter of tthtd!

ok that took forever to type out lol

i had a bit of trouble trying to balance out the kindergarten-y aspect with the actual plot and love story but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out anyway

if you haven’t read teach them how to dream yet PLEASE do, making this cover and going back through all my favorite parts of the story was such a joy and i really hope you appreciate it! i could only include so many references on this cover, there's so much more in the story.

going to go take a break and not move my hands for 5 hours because i just typed this all out on my ipad.

#fic: teach them how to dream #teach them how to dream #regulus black #james potter #jegulus

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janet56892 · 4 months ago

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Course Completion Reflection

For the poster originally I wanted to do a sunset scene as I really wanted to draw dramatic clouds, I tried to fit things around it, but this way told little to no story. After going through the processes of iterations and feedback I ended up going in a different direction than this. I found going through a set process of sketch, then outline, value, then colour so helpful, because if it was up to me I would just skip to the end, and end up making it more complicated than it needed to be. Because of these processes I have an end result that I am proud of, and it is what I want it to be. I have come a long way from the start of course, where I didn’t know what everything did, to being able to just get on with it.

It was really hard to get the water in the style that I wanted because I could see how I would do it if I was paint it in real life, but translating it to digital is a whole lot harder, so I ended up creating another layer on top of my base colours, than started trying to blend colours, and add depth to the water. The clouds were a whole lot easier, as I just had to fade out the edges, and add some of the colours on top of eachother.

The whole course was a good challenge and it helped me step out more artistically. Originally I chose this course because it looked like the most fun, and would be something I would be interested in. I was right, it was really fun, and I'm glad to have improved my drawing skills. I liked coming in on the off days, and just working through what I had to get done with no interruptions or time limit (except when I really wanted lunch), it helped my creativity flow.

What I did find challenging was using photoshop when it didn’t come to drawing, because there was a lot of other technical stuff that I also needed to learn to get a good result. I ended up googling things if I was stuck, and then finding my own processes to get the same result. I also wrote all the commands down once I did learn them so I didn’t forget.

Keeping on top of the tumblr blog was another challenge, I wasn’t the most comfortable posting everything I was doing online in the beginning, but after getting into the swing of it, it became easier, there are definitely some gaps, and posting things later than what was intended. I usually tried and backfilled some things, because that is what I would have done in my other course if I forgot.

It was good to learn who to slow down, and take time with each process, because the end result is so much better. It was a challenge going through all the processes, but doing it saved a lot of time in the end

What I would do differently next time is to have no idea when I go into it, this means that it can be developed more through the iteration process, and not be wanting to fit my poster over a certain idea. I would also try different colours, and google how to do specific thing properly so I can get the best result. Though I am very happy with how things have turned out

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beyond-icelebrities · 7 months ago

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Week 10- Digital Detox Experiment

1. DIGITAL DETOX Experiment: Leave your phone at home for one hour to take a walk in your neighborhood. Write down your observations when you return and draw a map of your path. (This is a hand drawn map, not a screen shot of Google or Apple Maps.)

2. Afterwards, take a photo of your hand drawn map to include in your book review. What did you observe? Did you notice animals, trees, sounds and sights that you'd never seen before? Did the experience provide any revelations? Were you anxious, relieved, inspired?

To be completely honest, I do a one hour minimum walk EVERY SINGLE DAY to simply disconnect from the game of life and find space to breathe and be alone with my own thoughts... Getting to do this for an assignment was simply refreshing and natural. Because of my extensive walk history in my area (home away from home while I am working on an acting contract), I didn't necessarily see anything I hadn't seen before; I did however notice some beautiful birds (ducks, irises, and geese), a gorgeous sunset, and most importantly I noticed how at PEACE I felt.

2. What is your favorite quote from the book and why do you find it meaningful?

“Our very idea of productivity is premised on the idea of producing something new, whereas we do not tend to see maintenance and care as productive in the same way.”

This quote really resonates with me because as an artist this is truer than ever, in an economy where creation is the mere basis of not only our livelihood but "success". It isn't spoken about enough how productivity can look more internalized than what's usually expected.

3. Why do you think this book, released by indie publishing house Melville Press, became an unexpected bestseller during the height of the Covid19 pandemic? Her book was so successful, she recently released a second title, Saving Time: Discovering a Life Beyond the Clock.

During COVID times, society's idea of productivity kind of got turned on its side as people found themselves unable to go about their normal routines; the idea of comfort also became more individualized and niche because everyone was seemingly doing the same thing: everything but NOTHING. I think this book became an unexpected bestseller because honestly people definitely had more time to read as it is, but also I think there was a spiked interest in self-care and mental health during the pandemic. This was a time where people collectively were acknowledging how hard it can be to "spread yourself thin" especially in dire times.

4. How does the attention economy benefit from our social media activity and media streaming consumption?

The attention economy has a severe chokehold on people of all demographics simply because we now live in a world where not feeding into media consumption and social media algorithms is seen as abnormal. Because we are seemingly all so connected all over the world through social media platforms and applications, not only is the demand for content high but we can clearly see how life online can impact the real world in the form of "trends" which continue to feed into that exact economy.

5. How does this book relate to the topic of celebrity culture?

"CELEBRITY CULTURE is an essentially modern phenomenon that emerged amid such twentieth-century trends as urbanization and the rapid development of consumer culture. It was profoundly shaped by new technologies that make easily possible the mechanical reproduction of images and the extremely quick dissemination of images and information/News through such media as radio, cinema, television, and the Internet." -Encyclopedia.com

This book acknowledges that celebrity culture is inevitably growing, becoming wide spread and accepted.

6. Do you take digital detox breaks regularly? If yes, describe them. Were they more challenging during the quarantine era? Why?

I take one every single day, and they are my "escapes" even though in reality these moments end up being where I feel most present and comfortable with myself, so often times I just look at it as a necessity. I have to admit, during the quarantine era it was slightly more difficult to truly disconnect from the digital world when again, that was singlehandedly the way information was shared and seemingly all I COULD do was open my laptop or scroll on my phone for example.

7. Do you sleep with your phone or computer? Are you aware of the impacts on your sleep cycles and relaxation caused by 24/7 proximity? Have you experimented with leaving digital devices in a drawer or another room?

When I am on my own schedule I tend to fall asleep with my devices kind of carelessly to be honest. I have frequently fallen asleep with headphones on for example, connected to either my MacBook or my iPhone and haven't given much thought to it. It doesn't seem to affect my sleep cycle or relaxation as I actually have a form of codependency with music, leading to using electronics as my form of intaking as much music as possible. I could even argue I feel more at peace with my phone playing a random playlist vs. silence in the air. But I have experimented with leaving my digital devices say in the kitchen or something in a past relationship of mine... This habit lead to more one on one focused time with my partner which was the goal.

8. What does Odell mean by 'doing nothing?' Are we capable of doing nothing?

Odell defines "doing nothing" as avoiding the constant need to feed into the attention economy and instead focusing one's time and energy on what they need as an individual. I think it is extremely hard to convince certain types of people in this day and age to truly do "doing nothing" justice, as many many people actually revolve around consumer culture, so as a whole I am not sure if "we" are capable of doing nothing if that makes sense.

9. What is the role of nature in Odell's book, in particular the role of birds? (P.S. Did you know that birdwatching became a HUGE pastime in the Covid era?)

Odell genuinely shares the same appreciation and love for nature as I do as a human being. She and I see beauty in the simplest of forms such as grass, trees, bodies of water; And we both see birds as symbols of freedom and easygoing.

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hannibalruinedme · 3 years ago

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Shizaya and Nostalgia

This is a very personal late night rant. Many years ago, back when I was a thriving teenager, I discovered "Shizaya". I immediately got obsessed with the pair and started watching Durarara. (I've watched s2 and s3 while it was on going)

I was completely in love with Shizuo and Izaya. Especially Izaya. I was smitten by him. I remember even writing this huge ass love letter to Izaya in my note pad xD. I loved him. I genuinely did so. (I love him still. I love shizaya so damn much that it hurts)

It might sound awkward to some of you, but I genuinely care about these "fictional characters". They mean the world to me actually.

Back to Shizaya.

There wasn't a single doujin left which I didn't read back then. I used to read my favourite ones every night. Along with the ao3 fanfics. Separate folders in my phone for the fanarts and doujins. They were my main ship. The real OTP. Eventhough I knew it was very unlikely, I genuinely did root for them. And the consequence? Well. We all know what happened. Especially to Izaya. (Cried for days)

However my teenage self couldn't accept what happened to her one real OTP back then. After many weeks of tears (and desperate google searches including "will shizuo visit izaya?" "will izaya come back?") I decided to end it all for good. that's exactly what I did. With a broken heart I left the fandom after reading the "Sunset with Izaya".

Now 6 years later, I've come to this conclusion, which is:

Once a fangirl, is always a fangirl.

Once you love something, you never really get over it. The best you can do is to pretend you don't care.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a shizaya fanart which immediately reminded me of my past. My obsession. How they used to feel like home. How a fictional ship can become your safe place. A comfort zone. How genuinely happy you become when you find that one good fanfic! That one too realistic fanart which makes your heart shutter! So I said, FUCK IT, I'll just be strong for once and revisit the certainly dead fandom. (it's been too long).

Guess what? I realized the last shizaya fic was uploaded on ao3 a few hours ago...there are countless tumblrs dedicated to shizaya and they even update frequently.....which, really did make my heart ache tbh. I went on to read the shizaya doujins. They were published more than 10 years ago. I've read them countless times. (Brings back memories :""") )

It hurts to go back to them. It fills me with a SAD AF, NOSTALGIC ACHE. IT BREAKS MY GODDAM HEART AND MAKES ME WANNA CRY FOREVER, yet it's fine. I love it. They still feel like home. No matter what happened to them in the novel, doesn't really matter as long as there are still amazing ppl writing about them. Drawing them. Keeping them alive.

You writers, you fangirls, you crazy girls and boys dedicated to their OTPS.. DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY IDEA HOW AMAZING YALL ARE? You guys deserve the world. Thank you so much for what you guys do. Thank you so much for writing such amazing fics. Thank you so much for giving our boys the love they deserve. For giving them the ending they truly deserved all along.

PS: it's been so long, so, can any of you please update me with the current shizaya news?? Any update after the sunset novel? How's my boy doing?

What's up with Shizuo in DRRR SH? (Please don't tell me he ended up with vorona now lmao)

Is there any chance they might come back...?

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stellan-pip-69 · 3 years ago

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Stellan Biography

So I managed to track down a biography of Stellan's, published in 2000 by Gunnar Rehlin. Apparently there a part 2 but I'm yet to track that down as a hard copy.

So.....I'm translating through Google as my Swedish is a long way off yet! So here is chapter one........

STELLAN

Chapter one:

LA November 1999

Chateau Marmont is the most famous hotel in Hollywood. It sits at 8821 Sunset Boulevard in an area of Los Angeles that is nice to walk in. Here, for example, across the street you can see one of these fantastic news stands with it’s range of all the worlds publications that are so typical of LA.

Near the hotel is row of restaurants and clubs. Most famous of the latter – The House of Blues, founded by actor Dan Aykroyd and often visited by USA’s famous Blues and Rhythm & Blues stars. Aykroyd himself is best known for the wild comedy film The Blues Brothers, with the acclaimed comedian John Belushi, in the main roles.

And this brings us back to Chateau Marmont. It was namely Belushi that not only made the hotel famous, but also infamous. It was here in bungalow number 3, on Friday 5th March 1982 Belushi died of a heroin overdose. It was a death that shook Hollywood and got many actors with drug addictions to change their habits.

Chateau Marmont has for many become synonymous with the decadent Hollywood. ‘Belushi Hotel’ is now part of a guided tour where the tourists, in a hearse are transported to places where LA celebrities have died in a spectacular way.

Despite the macabre history, Chateau Marmont has succeeded itself as a renowned luxury hotel. However, the secluded location, the bloated architecture and the lush greenery give the hotel a more intimate feeling than, for example, The Beverly Hills or The Four Seasons give. And this is the reason Stellan Skarsgård thrives here.

“I don’t really know when I was here for the first time.” He says over breakfast, on a hot morning at the end of November. “But I enjoyed myself immediately. Since then I always live here when I am here in Los Angeles. Because it does not buzz with people and limousines as it does in other hotels in this city, despite the fact that people like Pierce Brosnan and Leonardo DiCaprio stay here. It’s nice. And since I often bring my family, it’s also a perfect place for the kids to run around.”

This time the Skarsgård family are staying in bungalow number 2 (“But I have actually once stayed in Belushi Bungalow” says Stellan) But he has also rented a suite in the hotels main building. This time it is needed as when Stellan Skarsgård starts to film, a larger group trip immediately starts. Preferably he wants the whole family to come along – wife My and the six children. This time the three youngest were allowed to come along. Bill, Eija and Valter (born 1990, 1992 & 1995). The other three, Alexander, Gustaf and Sam (born 1976, 1980 & 1982) – have already been here.

In the middle of breakfast Stellan’s mobile rings. It’s Alex and Gustaf ringing from Stockholm and want to hear how the family are doing and take the opportunity to get some tips from their experienced father. It’s going to be a long conversation, and one easily realises that a lot of Stellan’s earnings are spent on hotel room phone calls. The money from the film he is currently filming is actually not enough to cover the costs of having the family with him. This time it will even be a pure loss making deal according to Stellan.

When in the autumn of 1998 he did one of the main roles in Renny Harlins Deep Blue Sea, the whole family went to Mexico. There he rented an expensive beach villa, a kilometre from the studio, where he could retreat to prove a relatively normal life.

Skola På Mornarna

“The weeks get very checkered. In the mornings My has a school for the youngest children. Before we leave Sweden, she and their teacher draw up a schedule that she follows whilst we are abroad. When I am not filming, I read the script, keep in touch with my agent and manager and pay the bills via the internet. And when the kids are free, My usually takes them on excursions to things like Disneyland. I’m only happy if I can avoid it.”

Considering all the films that Stellan makes abroad, the family spend more and more time in foreign lands. Stellan believes that children feel good and learn a lot about other cultures, they get a chance to learn new languages while they are together with mamma and papa.

“What can be difficult for them is to be pulled away too often and sometimes they miss their peers. On the other hand they have each other and are often visited by friends and relatives”.

My also believes the positive aspects outweigh the negative, saying “It works very well and I keep in contact with the school via email. And because this teaching is so focused on these children, it means they are often ahead of the school work when we get home. And you can see what experience the older children have had – they are not the least bit lost when go out and travel on their own”.

My said it was a bit hard for Eija when the recording of Deep Blue Sea started filming – “She was about to start first grade and began by being away for several months. When she got home, she didn’t know anybody in the class. But now she has established herself there, there are no problems at all”.

My believes that it is very important for Stellan that the family goes with him, as often as possible. He says, “Although it’s important to have a fixed point, I love the hobo life. I have a very good routine of getting a normal life started quickly, as soon as we get to a new place. Sometimes, it can be difficult, like in Mexico, when I would have to start driving there. But the circles are widening more and more and there have never been any real problems”.

I understand Stellan finds Los Angeles tough to be in. But that does not worry me. Being an ordinary person here is easy.

“I prefer we live in a house. Preferably as large as possible so that not only the family can fit but but so that we can also accommodate guests, otherwise it would be a liitle bit hard. I would rather of us stayed in a house than on Chateau Marmont, but this time we didn’t have time to arrange it.

During this visit to LA in November 1999, Stellan takes the male lead in the new Mike Figgis film Timecode. It’s an experimental film made in a single shot with four handheld cameras. This means you film the whole film time and time again, from beginning to end. After each recording, you look at the results, state what needs to be changed and watch on the screen what the four different cameras have filmed.

“I have actually been able to walk to work everyday because the studio is so close. And everyday I have met the same outsider, who asked how things were going with the job and the received >>sidewalk<<. But the other day I had to tell him that the recording is now over and that I will be going home soon”.

Then Stellan will also have the opportunity to care for his broken rib. During one of the shots, he fell badly and the battery for the microphone in his inside pocket broke a rib on the right side. “It hurts terribly. They say it will take five weeks before it heals” he says with a grimace.

Inside bungalow number 2 the children sit and watch TV. On the other side of the house is a swimming pool. Even though it’s morning and late November, it’s already hot in the air. My sits down on a deck chair and says “I have no desire to go home. I thrive in this climate. I do not feel in the slightest to get back to rain and snow again. I hate winter.

A few days later, it’s time to go home. One month in LA will now be swapped for a Swedish winter. And for Stellan something unusual as some time off. He will spend the time until Christmas and New Year to recharge his Swedish batteries, hanging out with friends and family, thinking about upcoming film projects and doing lots of cooking

NINETEEN FILMS PER YEAR

From the summer of 1998 he has in principle worked in a streak.

After “Deep blue sea” recording in Mexico he travelled to Paris to do “Passion of Mind” with Demi Moore as co-star. Thereafter it was time for the film “Signs and Wonders” with Charlotte Rampling and Deborah Unger as co-stars. Then followed the Norwegian “Aberdeen” largely recorded in Scotland before heading to Canada and “Harlan County War” with Holly Hunter as co-star. And so now just over a year later, “Timecode” in Los Angeles. This is a work schedule that leads one to believe that Stellan works on his own time code of extraordinary pattern.

“I reckon that I in one way actually have done 19 films in under a year. We took namely all Time Code fifteen times before we felt satisfied.”

Since 1997 when he did “Glasblåsans Barn” (Glassblower's child) he has not worked in Sweden. But there has been no shortage of offers.

“No but some have simply not worked in time so I had to say no for that reason and second, I was not interested. I have been offered to do adventure films in Sweden but why should I do that when I could do the same thing in the USA for a shorter time and leads to 20 times more money and I can take the family with me.

On the contrary, I have of course done films both in Denmark and Norway. It can be as if it has happened so many days that are much more exciting. They have more personable directors who do more odd films than what one does in Sweden.

It is also about in the USA the big companies often don't know what they will do in an upcoming summer. Therefore it is difficult to combine work in Sweden with work in USA. In Sweden they ask a year before and it is difficult to be able to immediately accept.”

For Stellan it is tough to have many projects and cope for a long time in advance.

“For me it was a troublesome one in 1999 to know that I had three films in advance as I would do. It was like having three big mountains to climb, three pieces of Kilimanjaro in a row. You are always a different person after doing a film and go straight into the next is tough. The ideal would be to work with a project at a time and when it is clear to decide for the next.”

TRÖTTA DEMONER

Even if he can appear calm himself he says he is in many ways neurotic.

“I can also be bad and have problems with demons haunting my life. Though if I have demons, I am not sufficiently interested in them. They get tired if they do not get some attention”.

He says he always gets very nervous before an upcoming recording.

“Everything you have to deal with in an everyday life becomes distracting, a lot arises, there are a lot of everyday problems, at the same time I feel that should bait me for upcoming films. My cooking becomes easy. I have no time or energy to bait me for complicated matters. I become slightly irritated and I have a shorter fuse then there it is all round the family to be moved by so much practical shit.

It's the same for every film. I think about the old man I am going to be and be able to make sure I have time to find him as I should, and I don't chastise the family for as much time as I should. There would be a conflict.”

Stellan says that nervousness remains when recording begins.

“The first two weeks I often want to redo it and I think what I have done works. But you never get that opportunity to”.

The start of a recording infers he often feels his blood pressure go up.

“Soon it goes down after we have held on for a couple of weeks. Then it becomes normal again”.

He must consider himself as neurotic. But he isn't worried about becoming unemployed.

“There will be scripts all the time. My agent and manager have rather a problem with booking me up on their own. But they are wise people and know that it is me who decides. They ask me and not the other way around.

They know that I never want to become some Hollywood star who shines in 5 years. My goods are my acting qualities. I am not handsome and tough as some American. To be able to compete I mix smaller films with less serious films”.

He likes to do American independent films and says that his name can then attract financiers (this is of course something which can grate the big studio films as also are interested in stars to be able to get for their financing). He explains what this implies.

“A film maker has an idea of what he wants to do a film of. The film maker has also ideas of which actor he wants to have in it. But then what happens is the intended financiers strike back at them saying “no chance do you want the money off us so you can take another actor instead”?

“It happened to me actually for some years since. Wayne Wang wanted me in lead role in his Chinese Box to play out in Hong Kong. But the financiers said no. They want Jeremy Irons instead. And so it became as if it not existed. Some would think of saying “come again guys, there is a new Jeremy Irons film repertoire we must rush to see it”.

@valerafan2 @stellansuperstarlet @elenatria @alyeen1 @litttlesilkworm @johnlockismyreligion @skarsjoy @green-ann @eroticaplush @drunkardonjunkyard @shark-from-the-park @skarsgardedits @skarsgardfamilylove @yesalwayswelles

#stellanskarsgård #stellan skarsgard #gunner rehlin

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pineconeinatree · 3 years ago

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witchy tips for witches with depression <3

I've been struggling with depression for some time now and I've been having a lot of issues practicing my craft since the lack of energy and motivation, so I decided to compile a list of simple routine things you can try to add to your daily life to get you back on the craft and maybe make you feel better :]

theres no instant cure to depression but there are ways to make it a little less bad, and little by little get you back on your feet !! these may not work for everyone as I am writing down things that work for me and just simple ways I use to incorporate the craft into my daily life. please please please also seek prefessional help if you're able to !! talk to friends and family, you're loved and cared for !! google depression self help tips for more tips, I know most of them may sound dumb or trivial or useless but it is so worth a shot adhering to them for some time, maybe you will notice an increase in your mood :D

1. veiling

when I go out, I wear a scarf on my head to protect my energy or keep me in a good mood, depending on the days activity. you can wear a scarf around the house or go out with it and putting one on also works for a bad hair day (read: haven't washed hair in a week) ;D

just cleanse the scarf by maybe shaking the unwanted energies out of it or with incense or with whatever you see the best and bless the scarf with your intentions for the day :D

2. cleansing

if you have a hard time taking care of your hygiene ( it's okay I promise, it can be very exhausting :/ ), try getting some baby wipes on your bedside table and when you wake up / before you go to bed, wipe your face, armpits, feet etc. with the wipe and with the intention of cleansing. it's quick and very easy and I promise that it's worth it, you'll feel a lot more fresh afterwards. you can do the same with washing in general ! if you take a shower imagine the bad thoughts and depressive energy go down the drain in a black/gray/brown stream of dark water !! you'll feel a lot more fresh and maybe a bit clear-headed even :)

3. tea magick

while getting your cup of tea / coffee, stir your days intentions into the drink or do this:

stir clockwise thrice to bring positivity, stir counterclockwise to let out negative energy in your next three sighs and then seal the spell to let the sadness repel.

I recommend black tea or white tea or chamomile tea and add some honey / sugar to sweeten the deal !!

4. shadow work

I know that one of the last things you might want to do is dwelve deep into your feelings but it really will be useful in the long run. if you feel yourself getting upset or your mood suddenly dropping, try getting to the bottom of it; what triggered the emotional reaction? take a deep breath, relax into your feelings as they are in that moment and be honest with yourself. observe them without judgment and try to find out where they came from and how to solve the conflict.

here's some prompts and questions you can try asking yourself:

how did you feel ( more accurately than just upset; were you angry, jealous, sad, lonely etc.) ?

is there something you can do right now to solve it ?

how could you handle this situation in a healthy way? eg. try to come up with healthy coping mechanisms.

how can you maybe prevent this in the future?

try the court trial thought challenging technique. if these thoughts or this situation was a court case, which side would win? imagine yourself as the defense attorney. you need to gather 100% foolproof evidence you have siding with the negative thought and then defend it against the undermining counterpart. it's kind of a pros and cons type of list but you adopt the viewpoint of an outside viewer to get a clearer and more realistic view of the situation. this thought process can help you realize that some negative thoughts aren't truthful and help you let them go. you can Google "the court trial cbt" for more on this technique :D !!

5. studying the craft

we're all individuals and we react differently to bad states of mind but what I do often is distract myself by being on my phone and I know ( I hope so, at least ) I'm not alone in this. as a witch, you're always developing and learning new things, was it about learning different kinds of ways to practice your craft or getting to know other practices or maybe reading a guide how to grow your own herbs ! point is, if you're gonna distract yourself, you could try reading ebooks or articles or even tumblr posts about things that interest you !

maybe try making a list of subjects, topics and practices that interest you and set a goal for yourself to read at least about 3 subjects on the list per day !!

6. making pinterest boards / planning

this isnt directly magick but I think it does count as practicing your craft. make mood boards for the next full moon, come up with spells, make pinterest boards about cool things that interest you or maybe start planning for the next sabbath ! just have fun with it, maybe colour coordinate your pin boards or arrange them by season !

7. go out for walks

it is so so so important to try to adhere to some routines. a big part of managing depression is taking care that you get enough sleep, eat enough and do fulfilling, nice and healthy things. go outside and try to look for rocks or crystals from the nature ? or try foraging ! or maybe go for a walk during sunset/sunrise and admire the beautiful sky and clouds ! ANY reason to peep your nose out of the house is a good reason. maybe go meditate to the nearest park ? or try yoga !!

8. interests and passions and things you loved to do

I know that it might be hard to find joy in the things that you used to like doing but you should try to do at least one thing that you used to love doing for 10 minutes every day ! incorporate a little witchcraft into it too if you want to !

draw or paint a sigil and maybe colour it

sing your favourite song with intent that matches the lyrics

try freestyling with any instrument you play and let your intuition guide you with the chords and notes that come out ! you can try also making small melodies that correspond to different intents and use them for cleasing or happiness or protection !!

bake or cook something you've always wanted to try ! look up the ingredients' correspondences and cook with desired intents !

please know that you're not alone !! my dms are always open if you want tips or just someone to talk to, too :) you don't need to do all of these but maybe try taking some inspo and adjust it to your life and surroundings and daily life and come up with ways of your own, it's your craft after all !!

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years ago

Text

➳april’s fool ♡

in which fred weasley is in love with y/n l/n, the girl he happens to tease and insult profusely for her attention.

fred weasley x gryffindor!fem!reader

word count: ±4.3k

tw: food, fireworks, pranking, fred being a bully, tad bits of swearing

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

ft. minnie, dumbledore and severus

yeah, your grandmama probably know me

get more bottles, these bottles are lonely

it's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', "wow"

april’s fool

“tomorrow is april fools,” dumbledore sighs.

“you know what that means...?” mcgonagall asks, her voice on edge.

“the twins,” snape replies quickly, not even bothered one bit as he sips his dark coffee.

“and their pranks,” dumbledore dramatically rolls over in his armchair.

“okay and?”

“they’re a hazard, severus!” mcgonagall replies.

“that doesn’t stop them.”

“what will stop them?” dumbledore ponders, eyes faint with interest.

“you still have those weird buzzy fireworks right?” snape asks.

“of course.”

“and minnie, you have the cake mix your grandmother gave you?”

“still in my cupboard next to the biscuits.”

“excellent.”

y/n l/n listens from the other side of the door, grinning. she’s been called to mcgonagall’s lavish office for some business she hopes isn’t trouble, but the conversation the three are deeply invested in piques her interest.

she likes fun. the type of continuous laughter and uncontrollable fits of giggles at noon. that’s why she enjoys the pranks the twins play. they’re bold, sharp and reckless and have the undoubtable trademark of fred and george on them.

one too a many times she’s been on the receiving end of them. one time the twins had charmed the library so that she and other studious students could not find any books that they wanted or needed for a whole week.

another time, her hair had been dyed bright pink. she wasn’t a fan of it, but tried her best to rock it. it worked. y/n had received many compliments on her bubblegum pink locks.

she laughed it off a lot. whenever something quite embarrassing happened, it was usually funny.

even the snide remarks the older twin always cast her way.

including the time he called her a blackhead. well, multiple times.

“oi, l/n, looking like a blackhead.”

george had rolled his eyes at his brother before adding kindly, “at least you have nice hair. your tie’s always shiny too.”

she had just laughed, “at least i’ve got the blackhead looks to pull pink hair off, weasley, you can’t even pull off ginger hair, and thanks, georgie. love ya.”

fred had looked taken aback, but y/n still scowls at the memory. she gets she isn’t pretty, but there is a line you don’t cross when trying to insult someone.

he always calls her the most awful nicknames too; body parts that align with her name and random pieces of rubbish she isn’t bothered to remember.

she shakes herself of her thoughts and draws herself up, knocking thrice on the door lightly.

“come in,” mcgonagall’s calm tone beckons.

“good afternoon professors!” she chirps, smiling at all three.

they smile back. even snape. they’re big fans of the girl, who’s studious but mischievous. albus dumbledore has always thought that y/n’s eyes always look like all she’s seen is a beautiful sunset.

“now you must wonder why i called you here,” mcgonagall starts.

“you see, how have you punished the weasley twins when they play all those pranks on you?” dumbledore eagerly asks.

y/n gives a light laugh, “i just prank them back. i won’t get detention for this, right?” she jokes.

they laugh, “of course you will,” snape jokes back and for a second y/n is surprised that severus snape, the ever so cold potions professor, is cracking jokes. especially to her.

“well then, i guess i can’t tell you how i prank them back then,” she drawls dramatically.

“no, no, do tell, we’re, what do you young people say?” mcgonagall pauses, “ahh yes! we’re all ears!”

y/n bursts out laughing, “okay, i usually do something that’s subtle enough but still very noticeable. they need to be anonymous too, or that’ll start prank wars and i’m only looking for short term pleasure really. one time, i dumped a whole bunch of polyjuice potion in both their little goblets. fred became george and george became fred. they were so confused.”

mcgonagall is impressed.

“can you bake?” dumbledore asks and y/n shakes her head for a long time.

“can’t bake for my sanity.”

“awesome. that is what i thought too,” dumbledore answers and y/n smiles.

a single knock sounds. it’s proper and formal.

“come in!” mcgonagall yells.

draco malfoy in all his glory steps into the room, eyes alight with concern, ever so indifferent.

y/n knows him from quidditch. they’ve become relatively good friends, though she thinks he is very busy with his home life. she also knows that there’s more to him than the facade he has.

“afternoon,” he nods and gives a charming smile.

“now, draco, i understand your mother had enrolled you in baking classes,” snape says.

draco nods.

“you must bake a cake,” mcgonagall hands him the cake mix.

she hands y/n the box of fireworks and winks.

“good day professors! make sure to be at breakfast tomorrow!” y/n shouts, dragging draco with her to the kitchens.

soon draco is laughing with y/n, at her atrocious puns and lightly placed jokes, finding himself very much happy. he’s not interested in her romantically, he simply enjoys her company. he’s even sharing some funny stories of his own too.

“...and i told him, to precisely fuck off.”

“so that’s how you deal with him!”

“oh no, he didn’t stop. he kept bugging me.”

“what did you do then?”

“i cast a muffliato charm on him.”

y/n bursts into laughter as they pass the gryffindor common room, quickly hiding the box of fireworks in her cloak as she spots two red heads quietly snickering by the fat lady.

they notice the unlikely pair scurrying down the stairs.

“hey, google eyes!” fred shouts.

y/n doesn’t know fred well enough to decide if that greeting is dedicated to herself, so she continues upon her way.

“weasley,” draco states.

“huh?” y/n fakes oblivion.

draco jerks his head in the way of the twins, where fred is smirking handsomely, leaning against the wall in a model-like fashion.

george is shaking his head in dismay.

“i said googly eyes!” fred shouts again.

y/n won’t lie, she thinks fred has undoubtedly good looks and his ginger hair is cute. he’s just a terrible person. to her, at least. she knows she’s biased, she’s often seen fred comforting ginny after a bad fight with a boyfriend, and from what she’s heard from alicia and angelina and katie, he’s funny too.

she whips out her glasses and stares deadpan at him, before rolling her eyes and running with draco down the stairs, laughing like madmen.

they finish baking late at night, and waving her wand smartly over the cake, y/n produces a charm that will make the fireworks activate as soon as the cake is cut open.

draco smiles as he pipes purple and orange roses, writing a ‘happy bday fred and george’ in chocolate letters.

they add lots of sprinkles, hoping to seem like avid admirers of the twins.

“does miss l/n and misters malfoy need any assistance?” a house elf asks.

draco just about opens his mouth to snap a ‘no’ when y/n gives him a silencing look.

“thank you rosemarie, but that is not needed, you are welcome to watch and talk with us though,” y/n politely answers, giving her a grin.

the house elf sniffles, “miss l/n is too nice! rosemarie will make some hot chocolate for her! pretty hair!”

y/n laughs, “thank you very much, rosemarie. i think mister malfoy would also like some hot chocolate, with a tiny bit of firewhiskey, if that’s alright with you,” she winks at draco who just scoffs in reply.

when they’re finished with the cake and the hot chocolate, y/n enters the gryffindor common room. angelina takes the cake and wraps it up in a box and nice wrapping paper. she sends it flying to the twins’ usual spot on the gryffindor table.

“thanks angie!” y/n smiles, getting up from the cozy spot near the fire in the common room.

“why are you going? we’re staying up till midnight for the twins’ birthday; wanna join?” angelina asks.

y/n shakes her head, “i’m not too close with them, it seems like a rather intimate ceremony,” she keeps her words fluffy and light. really, she would join any birthday celebration, but she didn’t think she could handle the constant insults and annoying comments fred always made about her. and this would have been completely acceptable if she had done something to any one of the weasleys, but she hadn’t. she even regards ginny weasley as a little sister and was invited to one of ginny’s infamous slumber parties. okay, she might have a little crush on him for his joke-ish nature, but it’s nothing she can’t get over. he’s out of her league, for sure, she thinks. and terribly rude. she doesn’t understand why she still harbours those feelings for him. maybe because that time adrian pucey was mocking her for her ‘blood purity’ he stood up for her. or that time she hurt herself at quidditch and fred stayed up with her bandaging her wound. he cared when it mattered, she guesses.

“i’m sure they would love you there.”

“fat chance,” she scoffs, “have a good night!”

she goes to her own dormitory up the stairs. she’s well known in gryffindor house, but for different reasons than the twins may be. although she’s close with angie and alicia, she’s not close with the twins. mainly because she’s always studying, playing quidditch, and doing prefect things.

being on a quidditch team with fred weasley is bearable. mainly because she’s the captain.

she’s stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. the owner of the hand swivels and suddenly a grinning fred is revealed.

“where’re you going?” fred weasley’s annoying voice pronounces.

“the sahara desert,” she snaps back dryly, “you’re in the way of my world exploration.”

“am i, really?”

“‘course,” she reigns her attitude in, “nice night, isn’t it?”

“for you? never.”

she scowls. fred watches in utter amusement as she takes a deep breath and charmingly smiles.

“dearest freddie, will you please allow me to get to my dorm so i can have some sleep?”

fred’s heart skips a little at the nickname but shakes his head.

“what’s the password?”

y/n sighs. “i don’t know. y/n is a blackhead. googly eyes. whatevers.”

fred lets out a loud laugh. y/n finds herself trying hard not to laugh with him.

she turns around, ready to find her hufflepuff friend that has a spare bed in their dormitory, knowing fred is really stubborn.

“that’s not the password.”

“well, good night.” she walks off, before intensely diving in a style harry potter himself would be proud of, onto the stairs and running up the dorms laughing.

fred stands at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open.

“close your mouth, flies will be caught,” he heard the giggling voice of y/n.

“close yours and you’ll look better,” he insults back.

“oh shut up. we know i’m the prettier one. and that’s saying something.”

the next morning, fred and george wake up to presents, a rowdy common room, and a nice cake sitting waiting for them on the gryffindor table.

for the first time, y/n takes a seat opposite them, her eyes alight with the familiar mischief they always held. she steals glances at the professors, who were beaming down with interest, as if they shared an inside joke. draco malfoy has an odd smirk on his pale face.

all eyes are on them as they cut open the cake. with a bang, fireworks come flying out of the cake in all directions, sending crumbs and icing flying in the air and leaving soot on the twin’s faces. their ginger hair is covered neatly with white icing and the fireworks continue for a calamitous five minutes. everyone’s too busy laughing and trying to dodge the flying cake to see that y/n l/n and draco malfoy are laughing quietly in a corner together, both with spells like umbrellas.

fred’s eyes, however, are trained on y/n, who’s rolling over in laughter. he quickly casts a scourgify on himself and george, and strides casually over to her and malfoy, the usual lazy smirk on his face as he hears ‘draco ohmygosh that was the best. your cake decos are on point! d’ya think he’ll ever bully me again?’. that confirms his suspicions. she did play this prank on him. and it makes him feel fuzzy inside.

his face then contorts into a frown. she thinks he bullies her?

“i wouldn’t say he bullies you, y/n.”

he smiles. never mind.

“but it isss! i can assure you, there is absolutely nothing nice ‘bout being called a frame!”

fred snorts at the time y/n had been gushing adorably over a picture frame that was embellished with gold and bronze flowers to angelina. he had went over and in an attempt to catch her attention, said ‘you’re a frame’.

sure, he was good at flirting, but not to the girls he really really liked.

“that’s fucking funny,” malfoy laughs.

“oh shut it draco, your face is funny. but yeah, i should probably ask him to start fresh.”

he decides to interrupt their conversation.

“ask who to start fresh?” he butts in.

y/n doesn’t even look surprised, “in fact, you, fred, because i’m not really sure if i’ve done anything wrong to you or anything, and by my memory i don’t think i have and you keep being rude and stuff. if i have, i’m really sorry for it and i’m sorry that i hurt you and all. if we can y’know, start over, and maybe be friends?” she catches the unreadable look in fred’s eyes and hesitates, “or maybe not, that’s okay, we don’t need to!” she gives a small laugh, “er, sorry for ever bringing it up?”

the earnestness of her tone and the wistful look in her eyes makes fred fall a little harder. ever since he saw her nervously fiddling with her robes in first year, he’s been smitten.

there’s a silence. malfoy has slipped off, the sneaky bastard.

fred simply takes y/n’s hand, giving her a look as if to ask for permission.

she swallows and nods.

they’re in the courtyard, which is sunny and light. flowers are blooming everywhere.

“can i kiss you?” fred asks.

y/n’s eyebrows go up. “what?”

“can i kiss you?” fred repeats patiently.

“as in kiss? k-i-s-s?” y/n asks, eyes wide with suspicion and curiosity.

“yep,” he chuckles, “crazy, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you’re crazy.”

“really? can i kiss you?”

“i’ve never really kissed anyone.”

“i guessed that.”

her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“there better be a good reason because i was saving it for someone special.”

“i need a yes, love.”

she huffs, “yes.” she won’t tell him that she has a crush on him, because to be honest, she still isn’t sure if this is a prank or not.

she surprised when fred tilts her head up ever so gently, a smile on his face.

this kiss is short and sweet. he tastes like cinnamon.

when they’ve let go, fred notices the light pink dusted over her cheeks. he smirks.

“you have to tell me why you thought i’ve never kissed anyone,” she said, eyes flashing in deep thought.

“such a beautiful person as you does not deserve kisses from anyone.”

“...”

fred took this as a sign to go on. “the reason i’ve always teased you endlessly is because i want your attention. i didn’t think you’d give it to me any other way. if you haven’t noticed, i’m in love with you. i think you’re absolutely beautiful, both ways. i love it when you frown and get annoyed, even if you rarely do, i love it when you study so hard your face makes this really concentrated look. i love it especially when you laugh and smile and joke and play pranks. even if they’re on me.”

“...” she was studying his movements. inside her brain, a frenzy was going on. part of her brain- the ever so optimistic part, was screaming happily, and the logical part was using body language to analyse whether he was lying or not.

eyes? their honey brown colour was glistening with affection and truth, an expression so dainty on his face.

a quaint little smile was on his lips, a small one, a genuine one. it was different to all the other smiles she’d seen him smile.

he wasn’t acting, she decided. if he was, he should take up a job in broadway.

“y/n?”

her brows were furrowed. she’d never been confessed to as genuinely as this before.

if they started this type of relationship would he still be mean and insult her all the time?

“i-i need time. to figure this out.”

he doesn’t look disappointed, she thinks. instead he looks down at her with... adoration?

“of course, sweetness, anything, i’ll wait for you.”

she smiles, “thank you, freddie.”

☆

it’s been a few days since fred’s confessed to her. she’s still unsure if he was joking or not. why?

at this moment, she’s watching him giggle with angelina johnson. it seems like he’s forgotten everything and anything. he’s gotten closer to her. maybe he’s lost feelings for y/n? she can’t blame angie, she’s a wonderful girl. if he likes her, that’s fine too. suddenly her feelings for him become very clear. she like-likes him. and it’s a bit too late.

but maybe he doesn’t like angie in that way? maybe he’s still into her?

y/n knows molly weasley raises her children with patience. she should trust that fred’s waiting for her.

but then again, she’s never gonna be as special as angie johnson. she’s just a ever so polite and outgoing nerd. someone who’s foolish enough to prank. angie’s smart, confident and funny and terribly patient. and effortlessly beautiful. she’s got the true gryffindor touch. and angie’s been one of fred’s best friends since day one. she’s always gonna be number 1.

that’s ok. she’ll accept it. she likes angie anyway. it was probably a joke anyway.

she couldn’t be jealous, just a bit dismayed that it wasn’t genuine. whatever, she thinks. we can just go back to how we were before. or not.

and it’s relatively easy. they never really saw much of each other anyway. she’ll get over this tiny little liking.

it’ll just be like normal. none of this happened. none of it. she grimaces bitterly, damning fred for his stupid games. should’ve known this was another of his pranks. but his acting though, certainly very good.

she smiles to herself.

“knock it off, y/n, you’re here to learn, not to love.”

and that answer, is satisfactory.

she gets up from her spot on the gryffindor table rather abruptly, saying goodbye to her friends, and makes her way to the kitchens. she knows she won’t be alone, she’ll talk to hansel and gretel, the twins that cook with the house elves every dinner.

they’re cleaning up as she walks in, book in hand.

“hi hans, g!” she calls, as she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to help them with the dishes.

“y/n!” gretel gives her a hug with soapy arms and y/n giggles.

“how are both of you?” y/n asks.

“good, good, potions though...” hansel trails off and they all laugh.

“potions is always like that,” y/n agrees, “it’s supposed to be really hard for newts, so you can’t really blame the subject.”

“i’m thinking of dropping divination,” gretel says.

“yeah, that’s wise, gretel buns,” hansel teases and gretel scowls.

“divination is an easy subject, gretel, you just need to make random stuff up. i saw this weird bear thing in polly’s tea leaves, it wasn’t in the textbook. i told trelawney it was a symbol that a stranger would come and whip polly off her feet, with a whip the colour of the rarest german emeralds, leaving her absolutely smitten. i got full marks,” y/n laughs.

they laugh too, and soon a light flowing conversation is shared over cups of hot chocolate.

this is repeated for quite a few days and y/n even invites polly, marla and lenox, her best friends, to join. it’s a delicate, nice kind of week, one that suits her current struggles.

when the weekends roll around, hansel and gretel suggest that they all sit at the hufflepuff table. they share jokes and quips over the food, y/n reading a book as she bites happily into apple pie.

“pfft,” her lips upturn ever so slightly at the quote that the character makes.

fred watches her from the gryffindor table, utterly confused. y/n’s been avoiding him. he sees the flashes of hurt that run through her eyes whenever she sees him, and the quick grin that’s far too fake that follows. she’s been reading a lot more and he never sees her anymore.

he wonders what he’s doing wrong. so as he sees her walking with her friends to hogsmeade, he calls for her.

“y/n!”

her friends giggle as they see him, but she gives him a fleeting glance and raises her eyebrows at them, shaking her head, before profusely apologising to each one of them.

she approaches him warily, with all practicality in mind. she leads with her heart, but her head protects her.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice, shame on me.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he states.

“what would you expect?” she snaps, “isn’t this all a good laugh for you anyway?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know what i mean, this was all a joke, wasn’t it? fooling my poor little heart which you know has a crush on you. my head simply won’t allow it. admit it, and we can both move on with our lives,” her tone is sharp and cold, her eyes burning with fury and hurt, “i may seem gullible, and i am,” she gave a short laugh, “but when i notice, don’t even try to lie.”

“this wasn’t a joke, love.”

“don’t call me that, and you and i both know it is. your acting though, absolutely superb!”

“what makes you think this was a prank, y/n? you were the one who asked for time.”

“yes, and the time made me realise that i had feelings for you despite all the teasing AND the fact you couldn’t possibly be genuine!” y/n says exasperatedly, her fury dissolving quickly, “you looked so in place with angie and everyone that it’s so obviously some sort of fun thing you did to try to get back at me!”

“angie?”

“a-and everyone else.”

“angie?” fred’s eyes were amused.

“you know, angelina, as in johnson.”

“angie?”

y/n shrugs, “you did bring her to the yule ball last year.”

“angie??!!!” fred was full on smirking now, as if trying to receive a real response.

“i think you like her, okay?! are we done here? i’d very much like a good book from f&b,” y/n sighs.

“i’ll accompany you to flourish and botts. why would you think i like her? didn’t i just confess to you?”

“yeah but it seemed kinda...” y/n trails off, not wanting her insecurities to come off as compliment fishing, “kinda far-fetched.”

“meaning?” fred knows exactly what she means.

“you know!”

“oh but i don’t,” he smiles innocently.

“well, you’re you!”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he asks, faking a look of hurt rather well as y/n looks alarmed.

“no, no, as in, you’re nice to look at, and you’ve always insulted me and been so nice and cool to everyone. are you for real?”

“nice to look at?” a cocky grin is on his face now, much more noticeable than the slight blush that was creeping up his face.

“is that the only thing you could pick up?”

“nice to look at? what’s up with me repeating myself today?”

y/n lets out an agitated sigh. he doesn’t know, he’s blunt and straightforward. she likes cushioning her words.

“y’know, handsome? good looking?”

“my middle names.” another smirk to conceal the blushing.

y/n smiles. “of course, everyone knows it.”

it makes fred uncomfortable. her light tone is a bit menacing too.

“only joking.”

“i’m sure everyone does know it, darling.”

y/n is too busy looking at the dog that passes by to hear him, rambling quietly to herself over the cute scottish terrier.

“sorry, what was that?”

“aren’t i cuter than the dog?”

“nup.”

“really?” fred casually slings an arm over y/n’s shoulders, having to stoop a little lower to reach her.

“i think so.”

“well i’ll tell you something love, i think you’re absolutely stunning.”

“some love potion you’re on.”

“uh huh, the love potion is called love, sweetness.”

“so you’re for real?”

“as real as you and me.”

“you’re cheesy. this isn’t a prank right?”

“not at all, i love you.”

“i-i don’t think i love you just yet, but i think it’s possible,” y/n bites her lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

she tilts her head to look at him.

he’s beaming. he looks more handsome than ever, a sweet smile etched on his face as he looks down at her in utter adoration.

“you have a crush on me!” he pulls her into a hug and giggles like a little girl, kissing the top of her head.

she’s engulfed by the smell of burning wood and cinnamon and immediately feels safe in his strong arms.

“how’d you say we go on a date? so i can show how sorry i am for all the times i called you googly eyes and played pranks on you.”

“i’ll check to see if the girls are okay with it,” y/n replies, turning her head to see her friends. they’re gone.

“they are. i asked them to shoo off before i approached you. is that a yes?”

y/n nods, “of course, freddie.”

“i love you.”

she laughs, “you really are april’s fool.”

“i’m your april’s fool.”

he buries his nose in the crook of her neck to stop her from seeing his blushing red face.

#fredweasley #fred weasley x y/n #frederick weasley #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor #hansel and gretel #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #angelina johnson #alicia spinnet #y/n #harrypotter #hogsmeade

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twilit-hyrule · 4 years ago

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So I feel bad cuz I’m pretty bad at actually drawing my ideas and uploading them... I have a bunch of doodles and concepts on my ipad that I haven’t finished yet 😅. Pokemon teams, superhero AU, some angst etc. (I have a lot of notes and stuff but comparatively few drawings).

So I decided to just upload some wing designs I have for the boys since I’ve seen some Wingfic stuff going around again! (The writing in-between is just a small info dump on which birds inspired me/what I based their wings on for anyone who is curious! So feel free to skip it or guess the birds before reading (it’s always two bird species per Link btw.)).

(I’m begging, pls ignore the akward standing pose I used for all of them. And the face markings! They look weird...)

I based Sky’s wings on a golden pheasant, and a red macaw. Felt fitting to give him red wings! And I couldn’t miss up the opportunity to add some master sword coloration with the purple and blue hues.

Four is obviously based on a hummingbird (long-tailed sylph to be more specific!), but the second bird I used as inspiration was the quetzal. It added the red underside and the long green feathers that would trail after Four (they would also be a bit longer than they are here).

Both him and Sky (and the hylians in their worlds) are very colourful compared to the others, because the bright feathers wouldn’t attract danger in their eras (the monsters were sealed away (Four) or couldn’t reach them above the clouds (Sky).

Time’s wing structure is based on owls, so he is also the most silent during flight! I wanted his wings to be gold-ish in colour so I based him on a barn owl, but I also wanted something more dangerous for him (barn owls are surprisingly small). So I added some golden eagle into the mix.

(His wings are also the most plain(?) I guess, since I had trouble imagining him with something more decorative/complicated)

I’d imagine when he turns into the feirce deity the wings grow in size and turn snow-white (like a snow owl, maybe with reflective silver instead of black markings?). Maybe grow some white peacock feathers for the tail too, he can afford to be flashy XD.

Twilight has the biggest wingspan of them all. I based him on a bearded vulture (they have the 6th biggest wingspan of all birds! Well, according to one lazy google search at least...), since I thought it fitting that he is a bird with a lot of negative stigma attached (like with his wolf transformation, vultures are rarely -if ever- considered good). They also eat bones, which also matches! And yes, their eyes are red which looks pretty damn cool.

The second bird that inspired me was the turquoise browed motmot (long tail feathers), but I’m still fighting with myself about whether I should make the feathers on the outside turquoise or not... either way I really like the sunset colours :)

For Wild I chose an osprey, I wanted a bird that mostly ate fish and lived near bodies of water because of Mipha.

...admittedly that reasoning made more sense in my head.

However! I was also inspired by magpies. Wild will absolutely pick up and keep any shiny object that he finds! Hurray for scavengers!

Eagle-ish wings! I based him on the secretary bird, it seemed extra enough for him. Though I just really like the look of those birds (really pretty!). Mixed with some major mitchell’s cockatoo for the beautiful fade from pink/light red to white.

(I’d imagine he’s low-key jealous of Sky and Four because their wings are so colourful.)

Again, like with Four, I went with the obvious choice; a seagull. Though I also sprinkled in some bluejay for the beautiful feather coloration.

Wind really likes how closely his wings match those from Warrior (since he looks up to him) both their wings have a softly fading colour on the inside and feathers darkening in layers on their backs. He just thinks it’s neat.

The first bird I looked at for Legend was the southern carmine bee eater, it has a pink-ish body and a blue/green crown of feathers on it’s head. I mean, that just screamed Legend to me.

The second bird I chose was the peregrine falcon, the fastest bird in the sky! After all, Legend is the only one of the chain to always wears his pegasus boots.

One of my personal favourite wing designs! Hyrule was mostly inspired by a starling, I wanted him to appear more... magical? And the white spots remind me of stars (well, it’s a starling). The inside of his wings is very loosely based on the great grey shrike, a slightly brutal bird, which fits well with the consensus that he lives in the grittiest Hyrule.

(They impale their live prey on on thorns for anyone who is curious.)

———

If any of them look kinda strange, it’s probably because I tried to make them all look unique. With the exception of Twilight. I wanted him to look slightly similar to both Wild and Time (main reason why I am contemplating adding some blue-ish colour). Brown and yellow/gold from time, and that dark border on the edge of his primary feathers was inspired by Wild (like Twi he is also mainly brown).

I also actively avoided making their wings green because most of them already wear green tunics, and that’s just too much.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu four #lu time #lu twilight #lu wild #lu warriors #lu wind #lu legend #lu hyrule #making the first three was fun!#everything after made me hate myself :)#they all wear grey because they got a visit from duchess rowena #she is teaching them how to behave more like civil people #and less like forest gremlins #and if you know who I’m talking about you deserve a seniors discount

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation. pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write!

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.”

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach.

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason.

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs.

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy.

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache.

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud.

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long?

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?”

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly.

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong.

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon.

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook.

You scream.

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—”

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!”

“Well… is he at least cute?”

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!”

“Tasteful nudes.”

“I’m gonna die.”

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.”

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates.

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM.

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?”

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.”

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you��re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot.

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram.

Of course, he’s stupid hot.

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well.

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more.

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend.

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league.

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on.

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen.

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen.

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?”

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot.

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?”

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?”

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.”

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!”

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.”

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?”

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance.

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing.

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.”

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures.

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.”

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something.

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie.

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.”

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.”

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy.

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really.

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing.

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.”

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment.

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film.

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic.

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?”

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.”

“You think right.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair.

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?”

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.”

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier.

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot.

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud.

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes.

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container.

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?”

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display.

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?”

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.”

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation.

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.”

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking.

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.”

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.”

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.”

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize.

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.”

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.”

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?”

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.”

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.”

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you.

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down.

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks.

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts.

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed.

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ???

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird.

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture.

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today.

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring.

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.”

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.”

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.”

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?”

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.”

You choke on your saliva.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?”

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.”

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?”

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!”

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.”

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.”

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.”

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off.

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?”

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?”

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.”

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.”

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens.

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists.

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger.

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine.

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.”

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.”

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?”

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.”

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag.

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin.

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio.

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony.

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him.

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.”

“It was.”

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table.

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.”

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.”

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity.

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die.

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more.

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.”

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.”

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them.

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.”

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists.

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset.

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself.

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.”

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.”

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink.

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set.

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.”

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.”

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.”

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?”

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that.

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?”

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?”

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.”

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself.

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.”

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.”

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.”

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame.

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home.

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead.

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade.

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?”

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?”

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this.

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.”

#jungkook fic #btsghostiebingo #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

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suituuup · 3 years ago

Photo

comme une idylle

Beca gets an odd request from a stranger while in Paris

rating: G

word count: 2801

happy birthday @green-eyed-weirdo 🥰 I hope you like it!

moodboard and beta by the lovely @snowonebutyou

ao3 link

“Dude, is this really necessary?”

Stacie hums. “It’s French fashion.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “I feel like if that were true, we would have seen some people wearing it by now. This just screams ‘I’m an American tourist’ to me.”

Stacie ignores her, adjusting the beret over her head as she stands in front of the mirror. “I think I look sexy with this. Very… chic.”

“Great. If you decide to walk around with that and a baguette under your arm I’m going solo on our tour.”

Stacie plucks another beret from the shelf and screws it over Beca’s head. “Aw, you look like Gavroche.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Beca mutters, taking it off and flattening her hair with her palm as she places the hat back in its initial spot. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Stacie points out, and Beca can’t really contradict her.

Once Stacie has finally picked one of those ridiculous hats, they head up the cobblestone street and find themselves a brasserie (one of those restaurants where you can get just a drink or have a full meal) for lunch. It’s pretty hot (a bit too hot for Beca’s taste, but she’s hopefully applied enough sunscreen not to resemble a lobster by the end of the day) in Paris that day, but they find shelter under one of those huge parasols, a gentle breeze sweeping in ever so often as they gaze at the food options.

Melodic giggles draw Beca’s focus away from the badly translated menu and towards two tables over to her left. They belong to a redhead, who just happens to be as radiant as her laughter, and Beca finds herself staring a beat too long, catching Stacie’s attention.

“She’s cute.”

Beca’s cheeks heat up as soon as she realizes she’s been caught, and she looks back at her menu so quickly something in her neck twitches. She clears her throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Aww, you adorable baby bisexual. You should go talk to her. Or buy her a drink.”

“Dude, no,” Beca hisses.

Stacie is silent for a few beats, clearly listening in. “She’s American.”

Beca makes a noncommittal sound. “And?”

Stacie leans over, a smirk curving her lips. “Imagine how romantic it would be, you two meeting in Paris and finding each other again in the States. That’s Nicholas Sparks shit right here.”

Beca finds Stacie’s eyes over the menu. “You seem to have forgotten a slight detail: I don’t know how to talk to women.”

Stacie’s eyes roll skyward. “Maybe you should try.”

The waiter thankfully puts a temporary end to the conversation, and once he’s gone with their orders, Beca sees that so is the redhead and her friend.

“Well, there goes your Parisian romance,” Stacie says, sighing softly.

Beca doesn’t really think about the stranger again, not until the end of the day. Stacie insists on heading to the Eiffel Tower to catch the sunset (and probably take a bunch of pictures for her influencer Instagram account), and Beca ignores her aching feet, feeling like she’s already been complaining a lot today.

“Hi there.”

Beca twists her head to the left to find the stranger from the cafe. Her blue eyes nearly make her stumble. “Um, hi?”

“So this might sound really weird, but I’ve always wanted a romantic picture in front of the Eiffel Tower and my boyfriend just dumped me before this trip and well, I was wondering if you’d pose with me?”

That’s a lot of information in five seconds, and Beca blinks twice in slow succession. “Pose, as in…?”

“As in, kiss me?”

She hears Stacie gasp beside her and doesn’t even want to spare her a glance. Her ears feel like they just caught on fire and her voice is nowhere to be found.

It’s only when Stacie jabs her elbow into her ribs that Beca says something. “I, uh, I-- what?”

Well, close to saying something.

The other woman giggles. “You’re really cute. And I asked if you’d like to take a photo with me.”

“Kissing,” Beca echoes, just to make sure.

The redhead grimaces. “Sorry, you’re totes creeped out. I’ll find someone else.”

“She’ll do it,” Stacie announces before Beca can say anything else.

“What, dude,” Beca interjects.

“If you don’t I will,” Stacie mutters, and that shoves Beca into motion.

“Um yeah, sure,” she tells the stranger. A shaky nod. “I’ll do it.”

“Awes!” She hands Stacie her phone. “My friend Aubrey can take the pic.”

Beca notices the blonde standing off to the side and waves awkwardly before her friend slides her hand into hers and tugs her forward. Beca’s heart starts to race a little as they come to a stop at the top of the stairs splaying out over the Trocadero gardens.

“Wait, what’s your name?” The stranger asks, seemingly as an afterthought.

“Um, Beca,” Beca says.

“Nice to meet you, Beca. I’m Chloe.”

Beca nods, tongue poking out to wet her lips. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So um,” she wipes her hands over her jeans. “How should we…”

“I’ll just kiss you now,” Chloe says, amusement clear in her tone.

Beca wants to dig herself a hole. But that thought vanishes as soon as Chloe starts leaning in, and her eyes slam shut the moment those soft, full lips brush against hers in a gentle kiss. She hears herself humming as her head tilts forward to chase the remaining distance between them, pushing a firmer kiss against Chloe’s mouth. It’s Chloe’s turn to make a sound this time, and Beca nearly forgets her own name.

She instantly forgets about the photo, and the fact that Chloe is a stranger, too caught up in how good this feels to really care. She does, however, come to her senses when she starts to lack oxygen and pulls away with a sheepish smile, her cheeks flaming.

“Damn…” Chloe murmurs, eyes alight. “I picked well.”

Beca clears her throat and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding her eyes. “Glad I could be of service,” she mumbles with an awkward salute.

(yes, yes, a goddamn salute because she’s a fucking dork.)

Chloe giggles and Beca suddenly feels high on the sound. “Too bad my friend and I have to leave tonight. I could have definitely gone for an encore performance.”

Beca isn’t sure how redder her face can get before it matches the shade of her plaid shirt. “That’s uh, too bad.”

“Well thanks for doing it for me,” Chloe says with a wink, then kisses her cheek. “Bye, Beca.”

“Bye,” Beca murmurs, somewhat still in a kiss-induced daze as she watches her go.

“Holy crap, dude,” Stacie says when she catches up with her. “You totally made out with her.”

Beca chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck. “We um, got carried away?”

Stacie punches her arm. “Tell me you got her number.”

Beca shakes her head. “She probably lives like, in LA or something.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot.”

Beca has to agree; she’s the biggest idiot in the world.

The rest of their trip goes smoothly. Beca only has to listen to Stacie having sex once, which is a wonder, considering it’s Stacie, and the two fly back to New York at the end of the week, heads filled with good memories of their trip abroad.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t ask for her number,” Stacie says as they walk out of the arrival gate at JFK.

“Oh my god, would you let it go?” Beca groans, tilting her head back.

“She was so hot.”

“I know,” Beca whines. “But I won’t find her again so let’s just not talk about it anymore.”

“Fine.”

It’s a few days later, as she’s aimlessly scrolling through TikTok as she does every night before bed, that Beca sees it. She almost scrolls past it because ugh, couples, but the yellow summer dress and red hair catch her attention and have her sitting up with a jolt. Her breathes hitches in her throat as she reads the caption:

I hope this cute girl I met in Paris and asked for a pic of us kissing so I could pretend I had a romantic time in France sees this so I can take her out on a date

The video blew up, counting over a million likes and fifteen thousand comments. Her trembling thumb presses on the comment section.

Okay, TikTok, do your thing, we need to find this girl!!

Omg they’re so cute

Imagine they find each other!!

Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Imagine…” she breathes out as she presses on Chloe’s profile picture, hits follow, and then taps Message.

Hey, so… it’s Beca. The girl from Paris?

She locks her phone right after hitting send and buries her face in her palms, emitting a low groan. Her phone pinging less than a minute later makes her heart pound against her ribs. She reaches for it and peeks at the screen with one eye.

omg, hi!! it’s really you?

She figures maybe a few people have sent Chloe a message because hello, who wouldn’t, pretending it was her. So Beca thinks proving it is really her could be a good thing.

If by me you mean the dork who freaking saluted you after our kiss, yep that’s me.

Beca bites down on her bottom lip as she watches the three dots pop up on the screen.

I can’t believe it worked! I’ve been thinking about you a lot since that day.

Butterflies go off in her belly, and before Beca can ponder on how cheesy this is, she’s typing something back.

Me too. That was um, a really good kiss. And you’re pretty.

Oh god, I’m facepalming so hard right now. Sorry I… don’t really know how to talk to girls.

To her surprise, Chloe doesn’t seem put off by it.

You’re very cute. May I ask where you live?

Beca doesn’t want to get her hopes up, because the States are fucking huge, and she doesn’t see herself jumping into a long-distance whatever.

NYC. You?

I go to vet school in Ithaca.

Ithaca. Beca knows it’s in the state, but she googles how close just to make sure. Another message from Chloe comes through.

I’m usually in the city once a month since my best friend lives there. Would you… like to go out on a date when I’m around?

“Dude, chill out,” she mutters to herself when she feels a wave of warmth encompass her entire being.

Sure, yeah. I’d like that.

They exchange numbers and end up texting for most of the evening until Chloe announces she has to head to bed because she has an early lecture the following morning.

Beca is about to turn off the lights too, that idiotic smile still stuck to her lips, when her phone buzzes with a text message from Stacie.

DUDE!!! Watch this NOW

A TikTok link follows, and Beca knows what it is before she even opens it.

Wow. This really blew up, huh.

Stacie’s reply comes through less than five seconds later. That’s all you have to say?! Tell me you’re going to message her. I got dibs on Maid of Honor at your wedding, btw.

Beca rolls her eyes. She ponders telling Stacie but decides to keep Chloe to herself for a while. I’ll think about it.

She’s a fidgeting mess the morning leading up to their date. Chloe told her to meet her by the River Cafe in Dumbo, and Beca has spent entirely too much time deciding on what to wear, which really never happens.

Chloe is already there when she makes it to the park, and Beca buries her hands into her jacket pockets to keep them from wringing together. Chloe doesn’t see her right away, gazing up at the Brooklyn Bridge instead.

“Do you have a thing for iconic iron monuments?” She teases as she approaches, catching Chloe’s attention. She narrows her eyes playfully. “Are you gonna try and kiss me again?” A gasp flies past her lips as she exaggeratedly lies a hand over her chest. “Are you just using me to go viral on TikTok?”

Chloe giggles. “You’re a dork,” she says, grinning. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Beca breathes out, relaxing her shoulders as she smiles back.

“You like ice cream?” Chloe asks, nodding towards the vendor across the grassy area.

“Sure,” Beca says, and they fall into a step towards it. She takes her brain for something to say before things get awkward, but Chloe beats her to it.

“So what’s it like being a TikTok sensation?”

Beca barks out a laugh. “Amazing. One of my life goals for sure,” she jokes, cutting Chloe an amused glance.

Chloe giggles. “I honestly didn’t think it would blow up. But I’m glad it did ‘cause not finding you would have sucked.”

Beca clears her throat, looking down for a second. “Me too. I was really beating myself up for not asking for your number back in Paris.”

Chloe’s lips curve in a small smile, and she looks like she’s about to say something, but it’s their turn to order.

Ice creams in hand, they settle down on the grass to enjoy them. The weather is nice, not too hot with a gentle breeze rolling by once in a while.

“So what are some of your life goals, then?” Chloe asks once they’ve sat down.

“Making a living out of music is the main one,” she says. “I work as assistant producer right now, but the job is pretty crappy.”

“I may or may not have stalked your Instagram,” Chloe admits next. “You have an amazing voice.”

“Oh,” Beca lets out, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Thanks.” She clears her throat. “You’re into music?” Strangely something that hadn’t come up during their texting.

Chloe nods, smiling. “I was in an acapella group in college.”

Beca’s eyebrows shoot up, and she laughs before she can help herself. “Wait, seriously? You’re an acapella nerd?”

Chloe shoves her shoulder, laughing as well. “Shut up.”

“I guess we all make questionable choices in college, huh?”

Chloe huffs, throwing Beca a glare. Beca spots a sprinkle of amusement in her eyes, so she doesn’t think Chloe is truly mad.

“I’m just messing with you,” she says, softening. “I think any kind of music is neat. And singing without instruments is actually pretty impressive.”

“Thanks,” Chloe says lightly. “There’s just… something about music, you know. It soothes the soul and makes you escape the real world for a few minutes.”

A genuine smile curves Beca’s lips. It’s exactly how she would describe what music does to her. “Yeah.”

She eyes Chloe’s profile, still a little bit struck over the fact that this gorgeous girl is on a date with her.

“What?” Chloe asks with curiosity swirling in her eyes when she catches Beca staring.

Beca blinks. “Nothing. I…” she clears her throat. “You’re just really pretty.” She scrunches up her nose. “See? I’m awkward as fuck.”

Chloe chuckles and slides her hand into Beca’s free one. “I think it’s cute.”

Beca grumbles. “I’m not cute, I’m badass.”

Their time together flies by as they learn more about one another, Beca even managing to convince Chloe to show her some acapella videos. The sun sets without either realizing and the park is near empty, save for a couple strolling by in the distance.

“I should head back to Aubrey’s,” Chloe says when it gets a bit chillier. “I said I’d be home for dinner.”

Beca is a bit disappointed, but she nods, smiling. “Okay.”

She pushes to her feet and helps Chloe to hers, her eyes dropping to Chloe’s lips once they’re both standing.

“You know… I didn’t really care about the video,” Chloe murmurs, stepping closer. “I saw you at the restaurant and thought you were really cute. When I spotted you again later, I had to think of something.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “I noticed you at the restaurant, too.”

“I know. You weren’t being very subtle.”

Beca huffs. “Shut up.”

Chloe simply laughs, her eyes sweeping down to Beca’s lips before she leans in. Beca is a lot less nervous this time around, and she hums as those familiar lips glide over hers flawlessly, her hands bunching up in Chloe’s top as she holds her waist. It’s over way too soon for her liking, but she has to remind herself they’re in public, and how she’ll probably get to do that again very soon.

“See you soon?” Chloe murmurs when they part, brushing her nose against Beca’s.

Beca nods and squeezes her waist. “Yeah.”

With one last kiss, she watches Chloe go in a similar state of a daze as in Paris.

Something tells her this is the start of something amazing.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #Chloe beale #pitch perfect fanfiction

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