#karl nova | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessmisery666 · 1 year ago

Note

Please don't leave. Jensen Ackles and reader

Please Don't Leave

Summary: Friends to lovers to friends, that can work, right?

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, fluff, Jensen in his thicc Soldier Boy era (that’s a warning in itself!)

W/C: 4.3k

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki. Small Parts/Mentioned: Karl Urban, Jack Quaid, Gen Padalecki.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: For the purpose of this fic, Jensen is not and never has been married.

A/N: This drabble got way out of hand.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // any mistakes belong to me.

Graphics: Title card Jensen photo credit - https://twitter.com/_AlanaKing_ Soldier Boy image from Variety. Fly video belongs to me.

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // Main // Made Up Fic Titles

“Help me understand,” you implore.

The first domino to set off the chain reaction was in the form of a famous and beautiful actress, Mae Nova, sliding into Jensen’s DM’s—a very detailed offer with an accompanying photo that you saw by no fault of your own. How is irrelevant. Why is the issue. Why didn’t he delete it or immediately set her straight?

“You’re the one that wanted this, Jay,” you say when he remains silent. “You're the one who pursued me, convinced me we should try and turn the ten years of friendship into something more.”

“I know.” He sighs, pushing a hand through his longer hair. “And I don’t regret a second of the last six months we’ve been together…” he doesn’t say it; however, the ‘but’ demands attention like a flickering light.

“But you're having second thoughts?”

“No!” he denies vehemently, finally looking you in the eye. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, one of us has to!”

He shakes his head, exhaling loudly. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, sounding like a broken record. His heart rate is running high, and his chest heaves with every breath, but his vocabulary appears to be running low.

You tsk, fighting back a scathing comment about needing a script writer to make him talk. But it wouldn’t be fair. He’s not a man who runs from his emotions. He’s just trying to make sense of it all like you are. You have to remind yourself he’s not Dean Winchester. He doesn’t look much like him anymore either; longer hair, beard growing almost wildly, no plaid in sight in the Soldier Boy wardrobe at the back of the fancy trailer.

Is that where the lines blurred? Working together for so long on Supernatural, have you both confused the other for your characters and their feelings toward the other?

“You can stop saying your sorry. I forgive you,” you say, and he turns a watery gaze your way. It almost breaks your resolve, but you realize it’s down to you to be the strong one. “I just need to understand why? Why didn’t you reply and tell her you're in a relationship? You’ve done it a hundred times before.”

“I don’t know.”

To make matters worse, Mae had landed a role on The Boys and would be working alongside Jensen.

“Jensen, you spent fifteen years of your life devoted to Supernatural, ten of those with me around. I think you were scared of the end, afraid of losing such a big part of yourself.”

“I was,” he agrees, in a whisper as if you speaking the words is the reason for his realization of it being the truth.

“Maybe us being together was a knee-jerk reaction?” you suggest, “a way to cling onto the past.” You take a deep breath, and your chest tightens as if begging yourself not to say the next part. “Maybe you need a clean break, see what the world looks like without Supernatural… without me.”

“What? No.” He looks offended but can’t hold eye contact and doesn’t offer anything further.

You can’t keep going around in circles, so you make a decision, sitting down at the small table and firing up your laptop.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, rushing to look over your shoulder, perhaps worried you’ll take it upon yourself to reply to the woman. “Searching for flights back home?” Jensen says, panic clear in his tone. Harshly he slams the laptop shut, and you look up at him. “You can’t leave.”

“Give me a reason to stay.”

“Me, us!” he yells, “we can work this out.”

You stand up and gently press your lips to his. Jensen’s hand automatically goes to the small of your back, guiding you around the chair to better press himself against you.

The kiss is natural and unhurried, but there’s too much tension in his body, and you know it’s because he feels it, too. This is your last kiss.

A little breathless, you pull back. “I don’t wanna fight, Jensen.”

“Me neither.”

“So let me be the bad guy,” you say, heart aching but trying to hold it together. “Let me walk away before the wound is too big to save our friendship.”

He grimaces as if tasting something bitter but nods once, “I’m sorry.”

It’s been a long day. All Jensen wanted to do was take a shower and crash, but Karl convinced him to go for dinner with the cast and crew.

The conversation is light, everyone enjoying their food and making small talk. It’s nice enough, but it’s incomplete because you're not there.

He wishes it was you beside him instead of Mae. The seating arrangements have no rhyme or reason. It just happened that way. But still, he almost resents that she’s the one next to him. So much has happened in the weeks since he last saw you. He wants to share it all with you, and wants to know how you are - if you’re struggling with his absence as much as he is with yours.

“Okay there, Ackles?” Jack asks, “You're a world away.”

“Yeah,” he lies, sitting up straighter and smiling. “Just thinking…”

Karl must know the look of a man missing his significant other because he asks, “About your girl?”

“Yeah,” Jensen admits, sighing heavily. He hasn't told anyone you broke up, and there’s been no speculation in the tabloids.

“Tell us about her. You never did tell us about your first date,” Jack says, “we all know you met on Supernatural, but not the story of your first date.”

Jack’s an awesome guy, sweet and kind, he doesn’t know the reminder is like a kick in the teeth, but Jensen obliges.

Jensen hurried across the lot, a coffee in each hand, the brown paper bag containing two cinnamon rolls dangling from his mouth. He was late, and Jared would give him shit for it, but it would be worth whatever Jared threw at him if it improved your morning.

Your latest Instagram post was a photo of a fly swimming in your coffee with the caption: “It was my last coffee pod. This just topped off a crappy weekend😭. #HappyMonday”. You were one hundred percent a coffee snob. You made it in a particular way using a fancy - and stupidly expensive - machine. You wouldn’t settle for the coffee on set. You’d rather go without. However, Jensen knew when you didn’t get her morning beverage, you’d be grumpy all day, and he hated to see you without a smile.

He headed for the makeup trailer, knowing that’s where you’d be. He kicked the bottom of the door gently as a way of knocking, then waited.

He didn’t expect Jared to be the one to open it. He wasn’t due in makeup for another half-hour, but his lanky frame filled the space of the open door. “Look who decided to show up,” Jared jeered playfully.

“Shut up,” Jensen mumbled around the bag, walking past him.

You were already there, looking through clothes on the rack, but stopped to smile at him. “Morning, Jay.”

“Here,” he said, handing over the coffee that was for you. “Hi, hey, morning.”

Confusion wrinkled your brow, but you took it. “Um, thanks.”

“I saw your Instagram, and I know how cranky you get without your coffee, and you said you had a shit weekend, so I wanted to try and make it better,” Jensen vomited words without thinking. “I don’t like seeing you upset, and you’ve been down a lot lately, and I just thought maybe this would help, some, a little, maybe.” Breathlessly he shrugged and prayed the floor would open up and swallow him.

Your smile beamed, and you lifted the cup to your nose, inhaling the aroma, and hummed contentedly, “Mmm. You even got my order right,” you said and stepped closer to him to place a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s cause you're always posting about it on social media,” quipped Jared.

You tutted, rolling your eyes at your co-star but kept your eyes locked on Jensen. Dropping back down from your tiptoes, you said, “Thank you for this. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

“It’s nothing,” he lied. It was everything, and as your kiss dried on his cheek, it reminded him of your evening plans. “I know you’ve got a long day ahead, especially with your date later.”

As part of a charity event, you had agreed that they auction off a date with you. The auction had been silent, so you had no idea who had hired you for the night. Though the studio had assured you they had vetted the winner, you’d asked that he and Jared be in the bar next door in case of emergency.

“Oh god,” you groaned, “don’t remind me. I wish I never agreed to that stupid silent auction.”

“Ah, don’t be such a downer,” Jared said, winking. “You never know. He might be the man of your dreams.”

Oh god, I hope not. Jensen thought. He’d already had to watch you be in a relationship with Chad, a man who neither deserved you nor treated you well. He couldn’t bear to watch you be with someone else again. He wanted to be next in line, and he would treat you as you should be, like a Queen. He just needed to work up the courage to tell you.

“I doubt it,” you sighed, and Jensen swore your eyes flicked to him and away again. “Besides, who said it’s a man who hired me?”

“C’mon, you two,” Zara, the makeup artist, said, waving them toward the door, “out! I’ve got to get this one ready.”

Amongst a chorus of goodbyes, Jared and Jensen left. “What is it with you when you’re around her?” Jared asked as soon as the trailer door was closed. “You’re a bumbling idiot, and she’s starting to notice.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she asked me what’s wrong with you. Thinks she’s done something wrong ‘cause you either avoid her or barely speak to her.”

“I know, man,” Jensen groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Ever since you put it out there that we could be more than friends, I can't stop thinking about it. I don’t want to blurt it out at the wrong time, so I try to be careful about what I say, but I just end up tripping over myself.”

Jared clapped him on the back, “You just need to fake some of that Dean Winchester confidence.”

“Maybe.”

“You better find a way to be around her ‘cause you’ve got a date with her tonight.”

“What?”

“The silent auction,” Jared explained, “I paid for the date with her for you.”

“Jared, what? No!”

“I think Gen will have an issue if I show up for a date with her, and are you really going to leave her sitting on her own?”

“No, but Jared, I can’t,” Jensen panicked, “I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

“You’re an actor. Just act normal.” Jared suggested before walking off.

Seeing you through the restaurant window, Jensen wanted to hug Jared so tight to thank him he’d crack a rib. But he also wanted to punch him so damn hard in the arm it’d be limp for a week. Why had he agreed to this? Okay, he hadn’t agreed. He’d totally freaked out, drank two beers, took three shots of whiskey, and then forced himself into the waiting car.

He was going to mess this up. He knew it. He was a fumbling, mumbling idiot around you, and dread settled firmly in his gut as he watched you scanning the menu. He regretted the whiskey and allowing Jared to talk him into this.

He swore he was having an out-of-body experience as his feet took him closer to you. You glanced up when he got to the side of the table, and your face glowed with a smile. “Come to check in on me?” you asked, rising and pulling him into a hug.

He held you a little tighter than he usually would, savoring the moment before releasing you and taking a seat. “Not exactly checking up on you,” he said, “this wasn’t my idea, but Jared brought you for me.”

“What?”

“The silent auction, Jared was the highest bidder.”

Confusion took over your features. “Why would he do that? I mean not that I’m not grateful, I’d much rather be here with you, but I don’t understand.”

He realized it was now or never. “‘Cause he knows how I feel about you,” he admits, holding his breath for a reaction.

“Care to elaborate?” you ask after a long silence.

“The truth is, I like you... a lot.”

“I like you too.”

“No,” he shook his head, “you don’t get it. I cherish our friendship and don’t want to lose it, but it's more than that. My feelings for you go beyond friendship, and I want to see if we could be more.”

“I was so nervous,” Jensen chuckles. “I felt like I was auditioning for the rest of my life.” he contemplates it for a moment, “maybe I was.”

“Well then, it’s good she reciprocated,” Karl laughs.

“It took her a minute,” Jensen remembers, “but yeah, she came around.”

Your phone rings as you slot the key into your door’s lock. You’re juggling coffee, a pile of scripts to read, dry cleaning, and a bag of groceries. You have no hope of answering without dropping everything, so leave it to ring. You assume it’s Jared checking in on you after seeing the photos on TMZ. Jensen and Mae were pictured at a restaurant in Ontario.

The phone stops as you enter the kitchen and set everything down on the countertop.

Gen had already checked in to make sure you were okay, and you’d been anticipating a call from Jared to yet again invite you out to the set of Walker to meet one of the crew he was insistent you’d “hit it off with.” You’d politely declined, having already been on a date that had been pleasant and ended with a goodnight kiss, but you’d told the Padalecki’s it had left you feeling guilty as if you were cheating on Jensen. You needed time to let that feeling pass and allow the wound to heal completely.

You set about emptying the bags of groceries, and your phone rings again. You shuffle the contents of your bag, looking for the device, sure that it will cut off to voicemail before you find it.

“Hello,” you answer, pressing it to your ear.

“Hey.”

Jensen’s voice freezes you to the floor, and you hold your breath. It’s been more than a month since you left him in his trailer, and you’ve only exchanged a few text messages. Why is he calling now? Does he want to be the one to confirm that he and Mae are together?

He says your name when your silence stretches.

“Um, yeah. Hey, hi,” you say, clearing your throat to rid yourself of the shock.

“You sound out of breath,” he notes, “is this a bad time?”

“No, no, I just wasn’t expecting it to be you,” you explain, “caught me off guard.”

“Who were you expecting?” he asks, sounding accusatory.

“Jared,” you sneer, unable to stop the ire you feel.

“Sorry,” he says, and the apology tightens your jaw with the frustration it evokes. “I should have called sooner.”

“I haven’t called you either.”

No one is to blame for the lack of communication. You both needed some space, so you were both right not to call.

Neither of you speaks for a moment, and you debate whether to tell him you're busy so you can end the call and be done with the awkwardness. But he obviously put his awkwardness aside to call, so you might as well rip the stitches out and reopen the wound if that's what this is about.

“Why are you calling now?”

“I need you to know that me and Mae aren’t together,” he says, firm and direct.

You try to interrupt, “Jensen, it’s fine.” but he determinedly continues.

“The picture they posted was cropped,” he explains. “The whole cast and some of the crew were there. The photo made it look like it was just the two of us, and that’s not the truth.”

“Even if it was, it’s okay.” It’s not okay, and from the moment you saw it, you’ve felt nauseous. Still, you assure him, “You’re free to do what you want. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

He sighs, and you can hear the scowl in his tone, “It’s important to me that you know.”

You think it’s sweet that he’s taking the time to explain himself, even if it’s not what you expected. But Mae was never the problem. The situation she presented only shone a light into the crack that you had both been ignoring. Yet the information that Jensen has shared is a welcomed relief in the wake of the storm, but it’s just the eye. More questions are coming, questions that will likely only cause more hurt and confusion.

“Why?” you ask, “why do you want me to know?”

“Because I wanted it to be you next to me…” he pauses.

You're not sure if he wants you to say something or read between the lines, but you can’t let yourself trust the spark of hope that jabs your heart like a pinprick.

“Even if we’re just friends,” he adds.

That pinprick pierces the thin shell you’d managed to build, and it feels like a thousand jagged pieces of glass lacerate your heart, and you chew your top lip to stop the emotion from escaping in a sob.

There’s a loud bang on his end of the line, and someone calls out, “We’re ready on set, Mr. Ackles.”

“I gotta go,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, and immaturely add, “Bye, buddy,” before hanging up.

The party has been a monumental success. You helped Gen, along with a professional party planner, to pull it off.

“So you really had no idea?” You ask Jared once everyone seems to have greeted him and wished him a very happy fortieth birthday. Technically it's not his birthday for another four hours, but the surprise party had needed that early element to make sure it went off without a hitch.

“None,” Jared says, smiling. “I was fully prepared to fly home tomorrow to spend my birthday with Gen and the kids. I was looking forward to it, actually. I didn’t want a big fuss,” he chuckles, looking around the room, “but I’m glad you helped Gen make a fuss. It’s nice to see all the old faces.”

“Not all of them,” you note sourly, commenting on Jensen’s absence. “He wanted to be here, but you know how tight filming schedules can be.”

“I know,” he nods with a tight, sad smile. “It would have been good to see him. For me, at least.”

“Don’t.”

“It’s my birthday. I’m allowed,” he teases.

“It would have been nice to see him,” you agree before Jared can start in on the lecture. “I think. I don’t know. It’s weird and painful, and maybe I'm better off not seeing him until it’s not weird and painful.”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Sounds like you have it all under control.”

“Absolutely.”

You mingle with old friends from Supernatural and new friends from the Walker set. The crew member, a camera operator named Vince, is as cute as Jared promised him to be, and you find yourself tucked in a corner talking with him as the night continues.

You hear the cheerful reunion before you see it. People applaud and shout greetings as Jensen crosses the room and embraces Jared in a tight hug. They hug for a long time, whispered words exchanged between brothers, and you see Jared’s eyes tear up. His night is complete now that Jensen is here.

A few people greet Jensen with hugs and shakes of his hand, but his eyes never seem to focus on them. He distractedly looks around them and seems disappointed when he sees the next person waiting to greet him.

You mostly manage to keep your focus on Vince, but you can see Jensen in your peripheral. You don’t react, but you notice when he finds you. He stares for a long moment, maybe hoping you’ll feel his eyes on you and look at him, but you don’t, and he doesn’t approach.

You're doing nothing wrong, but an uneasiness sneaks up on you. It’s not that you feel like you're somehow betraying Jensen. It’s that you're betraying yourself by denying how you feel. It wouldn’t be fair to start anything with anyone new right now. They’d be a rebound.

Vince seems to notice your focus has shifted and politely parts ways with you.

You spy Jensen across the room, catching up with Brianna, and head for the bar, needing something more potent than wine to make it through the rest of the night.

If possible, Jensen seems to have grown broader, arm muscles bulky beneath the material of his shirt, and you're definitely a fan of the Soldier Boy look. He looks good with a now-trimmed beard and long hair. The sight sends an ache of loneliness through your chest, remembering how it felt to be wrapped in those arms.

A shot turns into two, and when the bartender steps away to refill your wine glass, you feel the air next to you shift. You don’t have to turn to see who it is, the cologne gives him away, and as it arrests your senses, he nudges his shoulder into yours. The familiar heat of his body makes your chest tighten. You so desperately want to turn and embrace him, but you know your fragile emotions would crumble under the weight.

“Whiskey, neat,” he tells the bartender, his voice deep and gruff. He turns his body towards you, one arm resting on the bar, and you sip your drink, silently wishing it was hard liquor again instead of wine.

“Hey,” he says when you don’t look at him.

“Hi,” you respond blandly.

“How are you? You look good.”

“So do you. Really. You look incredible,” you say, without actually looking him in the eyes.

“I hate having to do the diet and exercise thing, though,” he chuckles, “it was so much easier when all I had to do was wear flannel.”

You laugh, but it's bittersweet because everything was easier when he was wearing flannel. “How’s it all going? Stepping into the shoes of a new character?”

“Daunting, but fun.” Jensen talks, and you do all you can to listen and engage but can’t bring yourself to fully meet his eyes.

He says your name so delicately it feels like a caress that sends a shiver through you. You close your eyes and know what he’s asking before he pleads, “Please look at me.”

His eyes have always been mesmerizing, and you know if you gaze into them, the spell will be cast, and there will be no escaping him, even when he’s miles away again. He waits for a beat, but your eyes remain firmly shut, and he closes the space between you, demanding attention.

His exhale wafts through your hair. It’s too close because it's not close enough, and you feel the heartache rising in your chest.

“It was good to see you, Jensen,” you flash a smile in his general direction, picking up your glass.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your wrist as you turn your back to him. “Don’t leave.”

You freeze in place and turn to look at his hand cuffing your wrist. Slowly you raise your gaze from his hold to his face, preparing yourself for the enchantment of his eyes, but his sad expression is downcast. His chest heaves with a deep breath before he finally looks at you, despondence turning to tentative hope.

“I know I should have said it back then, but I’m saying it now.” His voice is nearly a whisper beneath the muted conversation and ambient music, but it’s clear as a bell to your ears. “Please, don’t leave.”

You turn back to face him, and he takes two deep breaths before he finds the words.

“The last couple of months, I’ve been miserable without you.” He admits, “I’ve had to fight myself to eat, to work out, to do anything that didn’t involve staying in my trailer with a bottle of whiskey. I know that things are weird, but I realized my hesitance had nothing to do with the ending of Supernatural. Yes, I was scared. But I was scared of how easy it was with you, how much I cared for you, how quickly I realized that I am head over heels in love with you.”

You choke out his name as tears well in your eyes, and he steps forward to swipe the first droplet from your cheek.

“I was ready to tell you I’m in love with you, and you were booking flights home,” the heartache of the reminder dims the light behind his eyes, and he drops his gaze to battle whatever emotion he’s feeling. “That scared me more than anything. I didn’t want to say it in the heat of the moment or on the phone, and I was terrified you didn’t feel the same. It doesn’t matter if you don’t. I need you to know that I love you.”

You don’t have words, unexpectedly wishing you had a script so you don’t say something stupid. Then, just as surprisingly, you realize you don’t need words. You take a half step forward and kiss him. Jensen responds immediately, a hand caressing your cheek and drawing you closer as the other slips around your waist to tug you flush against him.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, and he groans into your mouth. His kiss gets you drunker than any alcohol ever could, and after a moment that could have been a minute or an hour, you feel lightheaded.

Jensen chases you as you pull back, placing swift kisses on your lips and pressing his head against yours.

“Damn, I’ve missed you,” you sigh.

“Well, don’t get used to it,” he says, “I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Tag List Info

Tagging Dean Winchester and Supernatural List. Sorry if you don't like RPF.

@alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // Main

#Jensen Ackles #Solider Boy #RPF #RPF FanFic #RPF fanfiction #Jensen Ackles fic #Jensen Ackles RPF fanfic #fluff #angst #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #Jensen Ackles x Reader #Jensen Ackles x You

356 notes · View notes

aurora-daily · 10 months ago

Text

AURORA in GAFFA by Sigurd Hollen Elgenes (January 21st, 2024)

After some back and forth on DM's, the artist agreed to meet for a chat with GAFFA. At least as long as there was cake. Carrot cake. This despite the fact that she has never liked cake and other sweet things.

A relatively small artist from Bergen, and a relatively large journalist from Oslo, find themselves in a cozy little room a stone's throw away from Karl Johan, while the afternoon darkness is falling cold outside the windows. The walls are decorated with summery floral motifs. In the background you can hear bossa nova playing softly. We are at Kongens Gate 10, AKA The Cakery. A place the journalist's mother has warmly recommended.

“Oh, how sweet you are! Thank you very much!", - exclaims Aurora Aksnes in a burst of fireworks when the owner of the café patisserie comes strolling over with a not-too-mini mini-carrot cake cut into four large pieces. On top, they have sparingly sprinkled walnut kernels. Immediately she begins to feed herself with her hands. It is Monday, and after a long weekend this is the first meal of the day, she says. She wears a stolen sequined jacket adorned with two clip-on medallions she "bought from an old lady".

I try to talk a little about the cake.

The human being above me makes contented grunts. Smacks glaze off fingers.

"mmmm daddy," she exclaims in a "foodgasm" as I'm trying to pull myself together and go into serious interviewer-mode.

A dazed little "wow!" falls out of me.

It embarrasses me a bit.

We both start laughing.

If anyone wonders whether the high-flying "persona" of Aksnes is a character, I can assure you that whatever her thing is, is a genuine full-time show. I might have to give up high hopes of journalistic integrity and professionalism. The mood is set.

Happy New Year! Did you have a nice Christmas and all that?

“I'm not very happy about Christmas Eve. But I am very happy in the run-up to Christmas. I love the first of December when there is a lot of Christmas atmosphere. It's a new season of Snøfall (a norwegian childrens show) this year, and I really enjoyed it."

We discuss children and cancer (a central theme in the new season of "Snøfall"), and together come to the conclusion that 1. - it is important to talk about difficult things, and 2. that all tax money should go to sick children.

"Sick children are beautiful." Aurora says warmly.

I point out that not all sick children are necessarily beautiful, and that children are basically as different from each other as adults. We agree that some kids are cool and that others are assholes. Fine and clever photographer Ole tries discreetly to snap pictures while we chat, and we laughingly try to ignore the intense flash.

How is the carrot cake?

"Delightful." she answers quickly.

“It's just this icing that I have to constantly lick off my fingers. It requires dedication.”

As I am about to point out that she has a fork right in front of her, she locks her gaze on an invisible point in mid-air. With squinting and thoughtful eyes, she chooses her words carefully.

"I've always.. felt like a person who should like cake... It's kind of been in my cards.. but.. I hate cake."

The gaze drops and she laughs a little. Apparently by itself.

"Sweet things usually make me sick. But I would really like to like cake. And this is, after all, a perfect cake."

The time has come to fulfill Aurora's second premise for the interview. From my jacket pocket I fish out a small pink net with a bow on it. There is nothing inside. Something grown from my own body, actually.

"Ooooooo!!!!"

Again she bubbles over with enthusiasm and happiness. How do anyone manage to find so much joy in strange things?

"I'm considering making a piece of jewelry. When I have enough of them.”

“It all started when I walked across a field in Canada. Then I came across something absolutely amazing! It was so big that I didn't understand what it could have come from, but eventually I came to the conclusion that it must be a cow molar!"

A cow molar.

"A cow molar! For real! It was so huge and beautiful. One of the dearest things I own. Now I've got a thing for teeth."

Here the interview reaches a point where it becomes "challenging" to transcribe, to put it mildly.

To briefly recap some digressions from the sea of digression-digressions: She mentions that she recently told a barista that she wanted human milk in her coffee, and that he didn't think it was funny. That she has made a habit out of putting people out for talking about something very strange, and then dismissively pointing out that it is strange to talk about when the person herself says something about the strange thing she herself brought up. We come back to children, and how much fun it would have been to teach a baby to say "PAHPHA" and "MAHMA" in a monster voice and that in theory you can teach children the alphabet incorrectly for fun.

"Do you want cake in your mouth?"

She looks dead into the eyes of photographer Ole. He hesitates a bit, nervously.

"BrrrrrRrRrmm"

She has forked off a piece of her piece of cake which is now on its way through the air like a crashing plane heading for the mouth of Ole who, somewhat reluctantly, leans forward and receives the plane crash orally.

This is spinning completely out of control. I carefully look down at the yellow post-it note with factual questions I haven't asked.

What are the plans for 2024? Any new music?

She looks directly into my eyes as she is patiently tasting the question. Wrinkles her nose a little.

“Hmmm. I can say as much as there will be music. It will come sooner than you think, but later than you want.”

Ole and I start to guess a little about months, but she just smiles mysteriously. This is hush-hush. Since she doesn't want to say anything about when, what or who, I do some question acrobatics and ask something else.

You recently released the music video for "Your Blood" with Canadian-Iranian Kaveh Nabatia. Really dig the song and the video. eeeh, would you like to tell me a little about it?

"oh Kaveh is so cool. Did he meet completely randomly at a Japanese whiskey bar in Canada (ed. the same trip she found the cow's tooth?) where we sat and chatted for hours. We got along so terribly well that I decided then and there. "You're going to make all my music videos from now on!". A decision I stand by. Almost all the collaborations I do are a result of me finding people I love. I love people! And - human chemistry is so important when making things together!"

We chat a little further. She says that she will next meet a guy who claims that he is a 5-time world champion (?!) in billiards. He works at the billiards bar "Que" next to Jysk below Sannergata. She had met him there at Girl in Red's Christmas party a few weeks prior. The same evening/night where we agreed to do this interview over DMs actually!

We realize three or four digressions later that the place has actually closed 20 minutes ago, but that the kind owner didn't want to disturb. We thank each other before exchanging hugs and saying our goodbyes. A new friend richer, I would recommend everyone to eat cake at The Cakery. They offer home-made cakes and proper coffee served on vintage Alice in Wonderland-like crockery.

#aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews #photoshoots

25 notes · View notes