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look-at-the-soul · 11 months

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Look at the soul - Part 8 Count on me

Cillian Murphy x OC

Series masterlist

Song: Count on me by Bruno Mars

As usual, we meet new characters 🥰 thank you SO much for your support, for your thoughts and feedback, it means everything 💕

“I won this time.” Cillian approached Marianne after rehearsal, she was sitting in the front row with her laptop on her lap.

“Hey, yeah… someone decided to ask a million questions today and I couldn’t get out earlier.” She explained with a worried expression.

“It’s alright, we need to remember your studies are a priority.”

“But I asked around and apparently, I can change my program to study in a hybrid method, like half my credits online half in the classroom, so I filled a form and they’ll check my status to see if I can fit the program, they’re starting it and only had like two or three students sign up.”

“That’s incredible! I hope you can make the change, but are you sure it won’t mess up with your studies?” He wondered how she’d be able to keep up with everything.

“No, because it’s the same program, professors, well all of it, that way I can have more free time to do it all.”

Cillian crossed his arms. “And what about your tests?”

If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea

I'll sail the world to find you

“I’d take them online as well as the courses.”

“But how? You don’t have to be in the classroom?” He just couldn’t picture it.

“Technically no, they upload the test with four or five possible answers and you get your score right away.” She explained.

Cillian lifted his hands in a surrender motion. “Maybe I’m just too old for this.” He chuckled.

“What? That’s ridiculous… you’re not old.” Marianne shook her head.

“Can’t you see the white hairs?” He huffed taking the seat next to her.

“I have friends younger than me with their entire head white, that has nothing to do with age.” Suddenly she was aware of the masculine scent emanating from Cillian. He was too close. “Anyways let me show you this, I made a budget for the rest of the year so you can use for the different projects.”

As she started to show him a few tools, he was in awe of the information for him; graphics, proposals for the new equipment, an analysis cost-benefit of the upcoming projects, this was mind blowing!

“How the hell can you do that?” He asked squinting his eyes, a deep frown showing.

If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see

I'll be the light to guide you

“What?”

“That thing, when you show me one thing and then another.”

Switching from one file to another, Marianne showed him what buttons she pressed. He made it seem as if she was doing a magic trick.

“Now, if you want to consider buying the equipment overseas, I made this.” She showed him another analysis comparing the investment.

“Wow, this is super organized!” He admitted leaning back looking from the screen to her surprised. “I’m speechless.”

“I tried to make it easy to digest.”

“Thank you, it seems like we both have good news then.”

Marianne saved the document and looked up at Cillian as he stood up.

“Now, come on stage cause I want you to see something.”

“What is it?”

Cillian was pleased to hold it between his hands.

“Guess?” But she couldn’t imagine. “I just got the first printed poster for the promo.” Cillian unfolded the paper carefully and took a few steps back so she could see it completely.

“That’s amazing!” Lee praised joining them on stage, excited to see how everything was developing on time. “Can I take a picture?”

Cillian nodded and raised the poster above his head so it would cover his face.

“What do you think?” He asked moving the paper a bit down, so now only his eyes were poking over it.

Marianne took a moment to register the image, it felt surreal. “I can’t believe this.”

Her green eyes sparkled under the bright lights of the theater. It was one of the photos Cillian took from her as the two roles that represented Adria, looking straight to the camera it was the fearless woman in the red dress in contrast with the woman in the reflection of the mirror with a sad look in her eyes, vulnerable, hit by life over and over.

It was hard to imagine it was the same woman of the script, not only by the character’s differences, but because Cillian had been able to capture Adria’s essence and the gaze from each character when in reality it was the same woman.

We'll find out what we're made of

When we are called to help our friends in need

“It was a good idea ask you to take the photos.” Enda approached them, taking the poster from Cillian’s hands.

“You just did that so you didn’t have to hire and pay for a photographer.” Cillian laughed.

His lifetime pal was right though. “Yeah, but you did a fine work either way.”

Hiding his hands inside the back pockets of his jeans, Cillian looked down. “All credit belongs to Adria.”

Marianne immediately jumped in. “Ah non of that, you were the one making magic with the camera.”

“Right, I’m going to check the sound again, it was horrible today.” Enda adjusted his glasses on his nose and walked away. Once he was out of their sight, Cillian took the permanent marker from his pocket and handed it to Marianne.

“I’ve to be the first one,” Cillian gave her a smile, “can you sign it for me?”

She was beyond surprised, speechless even. His request took her by surprise.

“It should be the other way around, isn’t it?” She raised her eyebrows. “Me asking you for an autograph?”

“Look, as much as I enjoyed portraying a woman in a film, this is a character I’d never be able to play. And unfortunately for you, it’s not my face in the poster, so you’re the one who needs to sign it.” He carefully put the paper on the table in front of them.

“I’ve never signed anything… what do you write?” She looked up at him for guidance.

“Just my initials a circle or a line or whatever…” he chuckled, “but don’t do that, write something nice.”

“Well in that case, I’ll need to take my time to get inspired.” She added with a dramatic hint.

But a phone call interrupted their chat, it was Selene, her classmate, so she moved a few steps away to talk to her. Cillian was trying to define what was happening, because her facial expressions were full of worry.

“Everything alright?” He asked when Marianne approached him again.

“No, we’ve to do a project in teams, but one of the members just let my classmate know he was quitting school, wanted to travel the world and then work in his father’s company.” She sighed frustrated.

“Fuck.” Cillian tried to understand the way she felt.

“My thoughts exactly, now Selene and I have to do everything.”

“What’s your project about? Can I help you in any way?”

You can count on me like one, two, three

I'll be there

She felt a rush of adrenaline, they had very little time to complete the assignment. “We’ve to build a business case about well… a business, doesn’t matter the category, explain the process to the classroom and propose different goals and alternatives to reach them.”

Cillian looked at her trying to figure out a way to help. “Can you use my production agency? My secretary must’ve the monthly balances.”

His proposal made her nod eagerly. “Yes because I could include the investment you did on the play as part of the company to show some way of expansion.”

And I know when I need it, I can count on you like four, three, two

And you'll be there

“Then it’s all set… tell me what you need.”

That’s when Marianne’s smile faded away. “I’d have to ask you for an interview, or you can tell me whoever I can talk to, it doesn’t matter my professor isn’t going to corroborate the authenticity of the job position.”

He realized she was mortified. “It’s no big deal, I’m happy to help.”

We'll find out what we're made of

When we are called to help our friends in need

“Oh my God, thank you! Thank you, it’s only a few questions and it can be just by voice.”she felt at ease when Cillian smiled. “When would you like to schedule it?”

“Right now? Unless you’re busy with something else.”

Marianne could barely hide her excitement, this was extremely important for her and it meant the world that he was willing to help her. “Yes, whenever you can.”

“I‘ll see you kids tomorrow, have a boring meeting with the PR.” Enda waved at them and walked away.

“How about we go to the studio? So you can see where everything is done.” Cillian then asked, taking his jacket from the seat.

“Sure, I promise you it’ll be quick.”

As they moved to the studio, the conversation flowed naturally.

“The other day I was walking down the street, on my way to buy some groceries and I found a little antique shop, there was a beautiful painting, but it was listed as if it was a Rembrandt or a Van Gogh and of course I couldn’t afford it, or I wouldn’t have anything to eat for the rest of the course,” she laughed and the sound caught Cillian’s attention, because it was one of those genuine laughs, “so I showed Lee the picture I took of the painting and she’s doing a replica for me!”

“Really? That’s incredible, I didn’t know she could paint.”

“She’s very artistic, you guys did a great job taking the photos for the promotion of the play.”

Cillian nodded, it was easy to work with her because their ideas matched. “It’s like talent comes naturally in different areas.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I know about copyright and all, but in the art world the prices go out of proportion. And I fell in love with the paint.”

“I can assure you, you’re not the first nor the last one to do it, beside if it ended in an antique store, the original owner didn’t care much about it.”

“That makes me think of the one that got destroyed at an auction.”

“Bansky right?” He immediately recalled watching it on the news, as it was destroyed by a hidden shredder inside the frame. “That was crazy.”

“It was beautiful, simple, but beautiful.” She expressed moving her hair back, a hint of orchids filled the air around him, filling his nostrils. “The little girl, reaching for a balloon that’s floating away…”

“Wonder what was the artist’s intention to do such thing, it’s something stupid right?” He felt comfortable express his thoughts to her.

Marianne shuddered. “Unconventional would be the best way to describe him.”

“Doesn’t makes sense.” He added holding the door open for her. “Nothing makes actually.” The sound of his phone interrupted their chat, Cillian pressed the button to answer, listening to the man at the other end. “So that date works for you?”

Marianne noticed the huge grin on his face as he was humming.

“Alright man, I gotta start scouting locations around and I already have the general idea, the demo is fantastic!” Another pause and he indicated her to turn to her right in the corner. “Talk to you later, thanks Danny.”

Cillian sighed pleased with the information he just got, and turned his head to look at her through his Ray Bans.

“We just signed to produce a music video for a rock band I like, it’s a great hit.”

Marianne now understood his smile. “Congratulations! That’s some great news!”

“Thank you, is a good opportunity.” He was excited about it, but decided to not ask her yet to get involved in the project, not yet.

Arriving at the studio he showed her around first, the cabin where they recorded, the sound machine, it felt like his second man cave.

“Would you like to read the questions first?” She already had a draft, so it was easier to adjust the questionnaire to his business.

Cillian frowned. “No, just shot.”

She chuckled and placed her cellphone between them, setting the recording app. “Starting in three, two, one.”

“Action!” He joked.

“Mr. Murphy could you tell us a little bit about how you started this business?”

“The Mister part made me feel old, can you cut it off?”

Marianna suppressed a small giggle but nodded at him.

“Hi Cillian, thank you for accepting this quick talk, could you tell us about how you started this business?”

Cillian adjusted on his seat and looked up at the silence sign in the corner. “I love my job, but somewhere down the road I stumbled across being behind the scenes, as I started learning what’s happening in the background, th-the things we don’t see on screen, I fell in love with that part of the process.” He looked at her intensely. “But I’m always in one corner, I care too much or I don’t at all,” he chuckled, “so I decided to explore that side of the business because I had a lot of free time and I was a good part of the day in the studio anyways with my stuff. So I talked about it with a couple of friends who are experts in their fields and they were happy to jump in this ship.”

“Can you elaborate a little about your main projects?”

“Yeah, we finance and produce independent films, advertisements, records…”

“That’s amazing, the magic behind the scenes…”

He gave her a genuine smile.

“What was the biggest challenge you faced? The struggle that almost made you quit?”

Cillian leant his body forwards, towards her, one of his hands over his thigh.

“People not believing in my dream, saying it was just one of my hobbies. But it’s always being like that, you know? People never take you seriously until you make it.”

“I’ve seen some of the projects and it’s mind blowing.”

“You’ve?” He asked surprised.

Marianne nodded. “I was curious about the audiobook you recorded and I listened it until like two or three in the morning. I also loved the promo video you did of local food in Ireland, it was mouthwatering. I wanted to take a bite of each plate.” She laughed.

Cillian was taken a back by her words, he didn’t know she had been so involved with his company to the point of seeing the projects. And he rarely got a compliment over it because he was usually behind the scenes.

“I take every project seriously, love being involved in every little detail to be able to deliver a good quality work.”

“What’s next for you?”

“There’s a video already in post production about tourism in the country, the finest places to visit, the hidden little gems… it’s beautiful. We’ll present it to the client in a few weeks and there’s another one I’m particularly excited about, but unfortunately due to confidential agreement I can’t share more at the moment, but it’s about music.”

As they finished working on the questionnaire, Marianne told him she would call Selene, to let her know the interview was done.

“Can I use your laptop in the meantime? I’ll be quick.”

Marianne already had her phone next to her ear, so she nodded before trying to reach her classmate.

As Cillian opened the icon to search, he found her email open already, his eyes were glued in one in particular.

Change of medication?

Cillian moved up to close the tab, but his fingers hesitated. He didn’t mean to intrude in her personal email account, but it caught his attention.

Feeling a rush of guilt, he looked over his shoulder to make sure Marianne was out of sight. But curiosity won him over, he really needed to know why would she need another medication since she never mentioned being sick.

There wasn’t a lot of information, at least it wasn’t clear, she just mentioned feeling her chest tight at times during the night and that she couldn’t exercise because she felt short of breath. The doctor answered he was out of town for a couple of days but would schedule her once he got back.

He also mentioned she should go back to her previous medication and look after any other alarm sign she could notice.

Cillian stared at the screen for a moment, he couldn’t see a signature or phone number. And it wasn’t clear if she was getting any better. Clicking finally on the red x at the top corner, he felt a vein in his temple starting to pulse.

Was her sickness something serious?

Should he worry about her health condition?

“All set, she will take care of the analysis and proposals for the project and I can work on the business case,” Marianne came back with a smile, oblivious of his thoughts. “I was thinking of using the play as my baseline, you’re super involved in the project and I could easily make it fit as one of the ways to expand your company, sorry I’m talking too much.”

Cillian looked into her eyes, debating between asking Marianne directly or not.

****

Next part

A/N: Still with the slow burn… but I promise you, there will be some action, can you feel them more integrated? Let me know!

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thesmokingguns · 2 years

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This is a labor of love. At almost 6000 words the next chapter is finally here!

MARRIED AT FIRST SIGHT: CHAPTER FOUR

It’s all or Nothing.

This week, on Married at First Sight, our couples start getting ready to meet at the altar. They will share gifts with each other and get to see what sort of person they will be marrying. Will the gift be a treasured thing that makes emotions start to fly or will our couples learn just how much of a stranger they are marrying? Find out today on Married at first Sight.

Mathilde was sitting in the hotel room, a few of her friends all in their matching red robes, black script on the back loopy and pretty with their names. She had tried to make sure that even with the short time frame she still wanted to make her friends know she appreciated them being here and supporting her on this journey.

It all seemed surreal as she sat in front of the desk, a makeup artist working deftly with brushes, and making conversation with everyone. Mathilde lifted the champagne flute to her lips, sipping the bubbles heavily as she tried to remember why she had signed up for this experiment, the nerves and reality of it all sinking in and suddenly making her worried about how big of a leap this was.

Mathilde liked to look at the positives in life, experience it fully at all times but she was worried that the way she embraced life was maybe with arms too open. She was always open to experiences but what if this one hurt?

“Maybe slow down so you don’t puke on your groom.” her friend teased, making the blonde bride look down at the empty champagne glass she was holding. Red lipstick print there and no bubbly liquid there for her.

She set the glass down, looking up at the makeup artist with an apologetic smile. Closing her lips Mathilde let her touch up the red lipstick that she had smudged from drinking. The makeup artist stepped back after finishing, looking gleefully at her finished work.

Mathilde was beautiful on a bad day but on her wedding day, she looked like a Hollywood starlet. Even more so when she stepped into the ivory, off the shoulder gown, an a-line cut and high leg slit accented her body and made the bride look even more gorgeous than usual. Her blonde locks had been put n a low bun, a few curls in the front hanging down and pinned with pearl pins that also held in the gauzy long veil she’d remove after the ceremony.

As she stood in front of the mirror she smirked, looking at her reflection and suddenly feeling it all set in. She was going to get married today.

“Mathilde, we have a present from your groom.” she turned away from her reflection, looking at the producer carrying in a champagne colored box with a glittery gauzy bow. It was beautiful, a small card tucked into the side with the sloppy handwriting saying ‘My Bride’ on the front.

‘My Bride,

I guess you’re as crazy as me. Jumping into this with both feet and really trying to experience life to the fullest. I don’t know you YET but I can’t wait to make everyday in life a party. I’ll see you at the altar and we can take the first steps on this adventure together

Your…

Soon to be husband’

Mathilde smirked at the slanted messy writing. She could tell it wasn’t rushed and he had tried to be neat and yet he had the handwriting that was scribbled and frantic. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the man that she would be taking the next step with, smiling as she felt better about this big leap. Unwrapping the box she smiled wider, showing her friends as she saw a blank book with black writing saying ‘Our Adventures’ embossed on the front. The perfect gift for a story that was going to be written.

Vialou was seated in the bathtub, her sisters pouring more oils in as scents of jasmine and lilac wafted through the air on tendrils of steam. In the water she was submerged, eyes closed as she laid there, thinking about how in only a few hours she would be taking the next step in her life, to be a wife.

She gasped softly as she broke the service, standing in the water, dripping as she reached for the gauzy robe. One of her sisters clicked their tongue as the youngest stepped carelessly out of the bath, wrapping herself up in the robe as her long wet hair dripped down her back.

“You’re going to be late.” she was told as she sank down on the bed. Before she could lay down her sister was grabbing her hair, wrapping it in a towel as she dried it.

Vialou didn’t seem to care about time. She did care about finishing the cup of coffee her mother took away from her before her bath. Frowning as she realized it had gone cold. But she was trapped between two older sisters who were trying to tame her hair with their familiar touch.

“You do understand this is a big deal, don’t you?” her mother was walking toward her, taking her youngest hands in hers, stroking them as she stared into her daughter's eyes so that she could try to get a sense of what she was feeling.

Each of her children were an element: her first born daughter was the ocean open and calm some days, other days stormy and wild with layers of secrets. Her only son was fire, fierce and full of passion for all things until it burned up or took another, her third child was Earth, born with a mothers soul and full of gold, and then there was Vialou, air. The one who blew this way and that but gave everyone breath. Her youngest girl was special but restless in life.

“I am going to be an excellent wife. I did a reading, I know this is right.`` She trusted the guidance of those before her, spirits and tokens she had learned from her family. Vialou consulted these things in all her decisions, believed in them and knew the power that was in them.

“We are always here for you Lou.” her middle sister said, the words that calmed her and made her reach for her sister's hands. All of them were wrapped up in each other, knowing that their bond was strong and could carry their sister through the good times and bad of her marriage.

Forty minutes later Vialou was dressed in the deep v-neck dress, the skirts flowy and long, her shoulders bare but then sleeves belled out hiding her hands if she kept them down at her side. Vialou was barefoot, her hair in a ponytail with a few pieces she had already pulled out. Her fingernails were a deep burgundy that matched the bouquet she held of purple flowers.

Vialou was calm, ready when there was a knock on the door. Her eyes lifted, as a producer walked in holding a silver bag with black tissue paper coming from it. It matched too well and she wanted to make fun of it but she was too curious. Setting down her bouquet away from everyone she reached for the bag.

“The card-” her sister's voice was drowned out in the sound of tissue paper ripping. Vialou opened the box inside, eyes widening as she pulled out a velvet ribbon where there was a moon shape hanging down and from the tip of the crescent moon was a teardrop of a moonstone.

She turned, trying to tie it around her neck but her sister was reaching out to help her, securing the ribbon as Vialou absentmindedly touched it, trying not to outwardly show how much it meant to her.

The card was given and Vialou knew they wanted to have her read it out loud, part of her craved the first note to be private but she was on a show and knew the cameras wanted to see everything.

‘Stranger,

The ebb and flow of life has made it so that we will meet for the first time at the altar but know this, I know you from my dreams.

XX’

The words hung in the air before her oldest sister let out a snort, the romantic moment suddenly gone as she realized that she was being filmed and everyone could clearly read the openness of her face.

“Well, good for you Lou-Lou. You found someone as wild as you are.” Vialou smirked at that, turning back to pick up her bouquet, tucking the letter into her dress so she could have the words close to her skin.

“I don’t want to be late, let's go.” Her family all exchanged a look at her sudden commitment to time but followed her dutifully as she stepped out of the hotel room, headed to get married.

Nikki was pacing around the room, his palms sweaty as he constantly seemed to wipe them on his trousers. He was worried about this whole process suddenly, worried that he would be paired with someone who wasn’t his soulmate. Nikki wanted his forever with someone who made his heart thump and the idea of being with someone who didn’t meet that definition made him worried.

“Nikki, this is a gift from the bride.” He looked at the producer as he was handed a package that felt pretty big compared to the small silver bag he had sent. He opened the card smiling at the loopy writing that seemed to have taken forever to do.

He could imagine his bride sitting there with her pen, each letter carefully shaped as she wrote him the first note of their relationship. It felt like a big deal as he traced the letters one by one.

‘To My Husband,

One thing you should know about me is I love a good meal. I can’t wait to see what we cook up together. Though you don’t know me, we will soon be husband and wife. How strange and fantastic that is! I can’t wait to learn all your favorite things and try all the exciting things life has in store for us as Mr. and Mrs…. whatever your name is. I can’t wait to be your bride.

You soon to be wife’

Wife. One word had Nikki rattled, smirking as he looked at his friends who could see just how excited the man was over one word. He was tearing into the gift, smiling when he saw a cutting board and knife set, a practical gift that he could use in the home he would have with his soon to be wife.

He was also relieved it wasn’t a bottle of booze, like the one Vince had gotten. Him and Tommy were currently sharing the bottle in the fancy glasses. Nikki was thankful she hadn't sent him alcohol, that would have been an awkward situation.

“A knife set? Is she going to kill you with that?” Vince teased, he said it good natured trying to get Nikki to loosen up.

Vince was in his white tuxedo, a pink rose pinned to his jacket as he stood next to Nikki who was in an all black suit, except for the deep red velvet blazer he was wearing. Tommy had opted for an all black suit, no tie or anything and his shirt unbuttoned the first few buttons. He was wearing the ‘Don’t Get cold feet’ socks his bride had sent over and had the folded up crane she had given him in his pocket.

All three men were feeling different about marriage and yet they were all in the room together trying to provide each other some support. But the other two knew how serious Nikki was taking this and how he was worried about how the wedding would go and how the bride would react when she couldn’t have a champagne toast at her own wedding. It was layers or worry.

“Are you going to consummate your marriage?” Vince asked, wagging his eyebrows at the bassist. “I am a gentleman and going to wait until the honeymoon but-”

“Like hell you’ll wait.” Tommy interjected, “If you have the chance you’ll be all in. All of us will.” Tommy looked at Nikki for backup on the topic but Nikki shook his head, rubbing his chin as he turned away.

He was still stressed out about the wedding, he couldn’t even begin to think about what would happen after the wedding.

Carrie smoother the front of her dress, looking in the mirror as she looked at the chiffon one sleeve gown. Her dress was one long sleeve of lace with dusty rose colored lace flowers that bloomed down the sleeve and lace bodie until the thick layers of chiffon skirt that lifted when she spun. Her brown hair was pulled back in a french twist and she found herself staring as her best friend came behind her, pinning the veil into her hair.

“Do you feel like a bride now?” the girl asked her softy. Carrie tried to smile but it was only her friend who was in the bridal suite with her.

Her family had all decided not to come and though her friends had agreed to come and see her get married they were judgemental about everything. The picked on Carrie, asking her if she was ready to get married asking her what she could really bring to the table in a marriage, making her doubt her self worth.

But Carrie was forging ahead, ready emotionally to be a good partner to her soon to be spouse. She knew her menial job couldn’t financially provide them with a future but she wanted to be a team, pick up slack in other areas to be a well rounded couple. Her life was boring, living the same day after day but now she was ready to have a true experience.

“Carrie?” her eyes lifted to the producer, who offered her a kind smile as she came into the room holding a small gift bag. “I’m just here to drop off your gift.” Carrie thanked her, taking the gift and moving towards the bed. As she sat down she saw in chicken scratch on the front of the card ‘open gift first’.

She pulled open the bag and saw four things: one was a piece of cloth, the date embroidered in a deep midnight blue thread, the next was a pearl hair clip, there was a pick for a guitar that was dipped in gold and added to a bracelet like a charm, and there was a small box with a gold clip that was in the shape of a heart with a ruby to in it.

‘Hey fiance,

I’m sorry that we didn’t meet in a conventional way but I still wanted you to have the wedding experience of your dreams. If this isn’t it I promise for our one year anniversary we can have a big do over with all our friends and family cheering for us again.

There are four things for your gift to follow the traditional something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. My mother helped me with this and embroidered our wedding date, you can wrap it around your flowers or pin it to the hem of your dress. The pearl clip was worn by my mother and my grandmother on their wedding day. I thought it would be a nice something borrowed so you can see you’re already welcome to my family and they are yours as well as mine. The bracelet is your something old and something new. The pick is a hint at my passion, it’s a pick that I’ve kept from my first concert in my band. I thought you could have it for something old. The ruby heart is just something pretty for your something new. I read in a magazine that it’s supposed to inspire emotion.

I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle. I already know you’re going to be the most beautiful bride.

Your patiently waiting groom’

Carrie was in awe, her eyes watering with tears as she touched all the thoughtful pieces that he had picked for her. The way that he was including her in his family and going out of his way to make this non traditional wedding as traditional as possible. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

Her friend was heading over, shielding her from the cameras for a second as she picked up the pearl hair piece, sliding it in place as Carrie realized it was time to pull herself together. She felt calmer now knowing that she may not have the support she had wanted going into this but she had the support of a whole new group of people she was thrilled to meet.

Melody dry heaved over the toilet, having drank a bit too much last night and now faced with the impossible task of getting married to a stranger she was feeling the pre wedding jitters hard. She wiped at her mouth with a towel, thankful she hadn't applied her lipstick yet.

She stood up, smoothing out the form fitting silk dress, making sure the pleats and draping looked okay as she saw her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Quickly she pinched her cheeks, trying to bring life back into her face.

The whole wedding planning had been stressful for Melody. She had felt nagged from her friends and family, everyone asking questions she didn’t have answers to. The only thing that made it any better was that she was able to make her own wedding cake. It was something she had always dreamt of doing and making her dream a reality was outstanding.

“Mel?” her Aunt’s voice was gentle as she knocked, “The groom brought you a gift.” she had to pull herself together.

Stepping out she smiled softly at her friends and family who all were gathered around. She had a glass of champagne pressed into her hand, the hope that some liquid courage was going to make her feel better. She saw a large bouquet of white lilies and pink roses, some hydrangages and baby breath mixed in to make the larger than life flower display even more breathtaking.

Despite having been in a few committed relationships in her life no man had ever bought flowers for her before. The display was gorgeous and she could feel her manicure biting into her palms as she tried not to cry.

“They’re gorgeous.” her mother offered the compliment, taking her daughter's hand as she nodded, touching a blooming petal.

It was soft under her finger and she smirked, heart thundering as she found an envelope tucked into the bouquet. Wrapping her fingers around it she pulled it from the blooms. Her mother guided her to sit down as she opened the small card

‘Hey honey,

I hope honey isn’t too vague of a nickname but I swear when I see you I’ll know if it works or if I can call you something else. I also know flowers must seem like a lame gift but I thought jewelry is so personal. I want to know all about you before buying you something because jewelry should be worn often and I want you to only wear what you’re happy in. And I want to make you happy.

Can’t wait to meet you, honey!

Your busy bee soon to be hubby’

Melody laughed out loud at the cheesy nicknames but she also liked how he was so confident in coming up with a name for her. She liked that he seemed to know himself and was confident. It was exactly the type of person that she had asked for.

“I like how he writes. It makes me feel excited and like the experts gave me exactly what I wanted.” she said to her family, watching them all seem to collectively breathe a sigh of relief. They knew her too well, knew how she could get lost in her head sometimes and over analyze a situation. They were thankful that even though it was out of character she was jumping into this marriage and trying to experience her life.

Melody picked one of the lilies out of the vase, tucking it among the blossoms of her own bouquet as she inhaled the deep scent, smiling.

“I’m ready to head down now.”

“No way am I sleeping with her tonight. That would be way too pushy and make her uncomfortable. I won’t even sleep in the same bed if she doesn’t want to.” Duff was fighting with Slash about the wedding night as the three boys from GNR got ready to walk down the aisle to their new life.

“She’s your wife.” Izzy spoke up, pulling off the tie he had been perfecting the knot in and undoing the top button of his jacket as he rolled his shoulders feeling much more comfortable now, “What are you going to do when they say you can kiss your bride? Give her a high five?” Slash laughed at this, amused that after being silent most of the morning that Izzy had stepped up to pick on Duff.

Duff however was now very concerned about if he was supposed to kiss his stranger bride or not and trying to not panic as he over thought the whole situation. But as he panicked there was a knock on the door and a producer came in holding three gifts in their hand.

Izzy was handed a small box wrapped in navy blue paper with a thin gold bow tied around it, there was no card with the gift and he was thankful for the small miracle that he wouldn’t have to read intimate words aloud. But he was momentarily terrified as he thought about the girl he was going to marry, having to read the words he had written for her out loud.

It was all a bit much for him. He was still struggling with being filmed, shutting down and being quiet for longer durations of time than even he normally did. His privacy was something that he cherished, so going in front of cameras and baring so much of himself made him uneasy, unsure if he was doing the right thing.

But Izzy believed in soulmates and he believed in soulmate timing, where two people were brought together at the exact moment the universe wished. He thought this could be the moment where the stars aligned and he was given the love of his life by some force out there. But there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to verbalize this to a camera.

He pulled the ribbon, opening the box and saw a raw cut kunzite stone, on the end of a long silver chain. His heart thundered, this insight into the person he was going to be with, giving him such a-

“Why do you have that pink stone? Did she return your gift?” Slash was laughing as Izzy turned, glaring as he shoved the gift in his pocket, annoyed by the man's words about something so precious.

But he knew he needed to take the attention off himself because the way Duff was looking at him made it clear he was wearing his feelings on his face. Izzy was quick to shove on his sunglasses, lighting up a cigarette and shoving his hand in his pocket to touch the precious stone he had been gifted.

“What did you get?” Slash turned to the package, a brown wooden box, which he opened to find a bottle of whiskey, and custom cut crystal glasses. A note was on top of the bottle, which he quickly picked up to read.

‘To my stranger,

I guess you’re as crazy as me. I figured you’d need a drink to help calm some of your nerves before meeting me at the end of the aisle. Thanks for doing this process. I can’t wait to meet you and get to know you.

Yours,

_ _ _ _ _ _’

He smirked at the slashes, the hint of her name that wasn’t the full thing still made his stomach tighten in excitement. He was trying to play it cool but it was hard to do when he was growing excited about everything.

“Pop the bottle, pour us all a glass.” Izzy said, turning from Slash to Duff who was fingering the white wrapping paper. “Are you getting second thoughts, Duff?” the blonde shook his head, smirking in a way that he did when he was anxious. He was trying not to have a panic attack on camera and could use the drink Slash was offering him.

As he sipped heavily he pulled out the card, smiling as he saw a smiley face in red ink drawn inside a heart on the front. It was simple, silly and he appreciated the childish drawing from his soon to be bride.

‘Hey you,

I wanted to give you something to capture this experience through your own eyes, to be able to tell your own story, and to selfishly let me see how you view the word. I can’t wait to meet you and get to start the walk of life as your wife. I’m hoping we become fast friends and eventually find love in that.

See you soon!’

Duff liked that she wasn’t rushing things. He liked how she wanted to be his friend first and wasn’t talking about how they were going to have to hit a million milestones as husband and wife. They were going to start as friends and he loved that.

Ripping the corner of the package open he smirked as he saw that inside of it was a polaroid camera. Something simple but would be a great tool to make memories with his soon to be bride. He liked the thoughtfulness of the idea, how she was giving him another outlet to show his experience. It wasn’t the usual gift and he found himself attracted to that.

“Do you think she’ll let you take pictures of her tonight?” Slash ribbed, making Duff roll his eyes as he loaded the camera, standing in front of the hotel mirror, he took his first picture.

Maria was shining like the diamond that she absolutely knew that she was. Her dress was form fitting, corset bodice draped in sheer beaded fabric. It hugged her body and had a layer coimh down to give her an elegant train. It looked like she had stepped out of a bridal magazine. Her best friends were all around her, wrapped in their silky black bridesmaid gowns and holding red rose bouquets.

She wanted her wedding to be elegant and romantic, nothing overtly fancy other than herself of course. She wanted everything to be a simple background and herself and her husband to be, whoever he was to be the shining star of the night.

As she slid on her shoes, ready to head down to where she would walk down the aisle, she was thinking about her family. They had been skeptical about this and said they didn't want to be filmed or anything until they met this person and had some knowledge of who their daughter was marrying. Though it still hurt that she was going to have to walk herself down the aisle.

“Delivery.” she looked up as a producer walked in with several packages. “Seems your groom wants you to know how spoiled you’re going to be.” Maria blinked, as everything was set down, her cheeks warming as she watched all the things sit there in their ivory wrapping paper with gold bows all carefully done.

She saw a bottle of champagne and instantly her friends took it from her, topping off everyones glass as she moved to read the card that came with the packages.

‘My stranger,

I don’t know about what life was like before for you but now you’re going to be my world and I promise you that everyday you;ll feel cherished and special because of it. Here are just a few small things for you today as you get to be a bride for the first time.

Your stranger’

Maria was excited, handing the note over as her curious friends over analyzed everything from the way he wrote to the expensive stationary he had jotted his note down on. She moved towards the gifts lifting the biggest one first and untying the bow. She smirked, inside was a pair of white pajams, silky with feathers on the cuffs and hems, in a pink swirly script ‘Mrs.’ was done. Inside the next box was a few face masks, skincare items and things for her to unwind with tonight. The last and smallest box made her gasp so loud her friends stumbled out of bed to see what she was looking at. A tennis bracelet laid with diamonds shimmered in the hotel lights.

“Holy-”

“He has to be rich!.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Her friends all were talking over themselves as Maria slid the bracelet on her left hand, the same hand her husband would be putting a ring on within the hour. She was overwhelmed with the gifts he had given her, the way he had made it known he was going to treat her well.

She couldn’t wait to be his wife.

Nora was chain smoking on the balcony, not yet in her dress but in full glam with her makeup and hair done. She was more nervous than she wanted to admit and was worried about her future. The cameras were getting ready in the hall to film so as she sat alone in her room, all her friends already downstairs and no family there to support her she was supposed to get on her dress herself.

Her whole life had been by herself so she was now afraid of what it would be like to share that with someone. She wanted to get married but she was wondering now if marrying a stranger was the best way to get her happily ever after.

“Nora, do you need help?” the producer knocked on the door as she stepped out of the room, saying she could use help getting in the dress.

When the producer walked in she was holding a small silver bag that she left on the table, a card with ‘Mrs. XXX’ was written on the outside and she knew this must be a gift from her groom. She was curious but knew she would have to be filmed opening it so she complied in getting her gown on. It was a sheer bodice dress, a few crystals and lace covered her breasts but didn’t leave much to the imagination before cut tulle gave way to a long slit that showed off most of her leg. Nora wore high heels that made her usual short frame grow and no veil.

“You look gorgeous, Nora.” the producer said, feeling sorry for the girl who was alone. But Nora didn’t care. She was slipping into the bathroom, brushing her teeth. She nearly jumped as she came back out and saw the camera crews all set up.

The producer told her to open the gift now and Nora grabbed it, opening the card as she smiled down at the letter written in thick black ink. She was a sucker for a good pen.

‘Hello soon to be Mrs. XXX,

I wanted to give you something personal and unique. A gift that I can give you on all our anniversaries for the next fifty sixty, seventy years. I made this last week, envisioning my bride and I already know you’re going to be better than any dreams or images I’ve imagined. I had gotten you other gifts but apparently we can’t know each other's names and personalized gifts with our last name will have to wait until tomorrow or tonight, if we’re not too tired. But I’m looking forward to giving you something to look forward to everyday.

Mr.XXX’

Nora had chills running down her spine and was thinking over and over about the sentence ‘tonight, if we’re not too tired’. Was her husband already flirting with her or was he just saying their wedding day was going to take a lot out of them?

She moved to open her gift, a bottle of perfume that was called ‘Love Story’. It was a cliche name and she wanted to roll her eyes but she was too busy spraying it on her wrists, inhaling the scent of clementine oranges, vanilla, and daisies. It was beautiful and perfect, like the smell of her daydreams. This was going to be what she looked forward to for years to come. A gift that would always remind them of their wedding day.

And he had made this for her.

Nora didn’t know who her husband was going to be but at the gift he gave her, she was already starting to fall for him.

Next Time on married at first sight…we will see three of our couples step up to the altar and say ‘I Do’ to a stranger. The couples will go through a wedding with their stranger, doing their first dance, photos, and a wedding night. Will it be all silver bells and a bright future for these young couples? Or are sparks going to fly and start a fire that will burn before it starts? We’ll find out next time on Married at First Sight.

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galaxy-m1st · 2 months

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Unaffected

Chapter 2: What are you saying?

When I was 16 my grandma passed away from old age. I was devastated, but my grandpa was heartbroken. He shut down after she died and I started to take care of him. I didn't mind taking care of him, but seeing him in this state was sad. He pretty much lived in the rocking chair in the living room. All he did was watch TV all day. I think he was just trying to distract himself.

When I was 17 and in my last year of high school something weird happened.

I woke up at six in the morning to prepare for school and make breakfast for my grandpa. As I went downstairs, I noticed that the TV was on and it was playing an English channel. I felt confused and wanted to investigate, but I didn't want to disturb my grandpa who was still asleep.

Upon entering the kitchen, I was struck by the realization that everything was in English - the rice bag, the packet of seaweed, and even the mat on the floor had English words printed on them. It was an unsettling experience, and I could feel my anxiety rising. I couldn't help but wonder if I was in some kind of dream. In an attempt to calm myself down, I decided to go about my usual routine and make breakfast. However, even the act of cooking felt surreal and I found myself waiting for something to happen, half-expecting to wake up at any moment. Despite my unease, I managed to quickly whip up breakfast and pack my lunch before heading out for the day. On my way to school, everyone was talking in English and all the signs were in English. This is a dream, it has to be. Once I arrived, guess what, everything was in English. My friends were talking to each other, so I went to talk to them. I knew a little bit of English, but there was no way I could speak it fluently.

"Hi Akari," one of my friends said to me, "How are you?"

"I was fairly certain that I understood the meaning, but I hesitated to respond in English for fear of sounding foolish. Instead, I opted to reply in Japanese with "Good, and you?" She paused briefly before bursting into laughter. "What was that?" she said in a fit of giggles. "Why are being silly, you're usually so serious?"

"What do you mean?" I said while giving her a confused look.

"Yeah, you don't usually pull this type of stuff Akari," one of my other friends "It doesn't fit you very well."

"I looked back at them with confusion. I tried to convince myself that it was just a dream, but my limited English skills made it difficult to process everything. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, so I quickly said goodbye and speed-walked towards school."Once I made it to the classroom I took a seat in the back so I could think in peace. When class started I barely understood a word the teacher was saying. Today was going to be a long day. I made it through the day without being called on. Thank the lord above for that.

The day was long, but a blur. Hopefully, a good night's rest was all I needed. I am trying to be optimistic here. On my way home I picked up some groceries. I didn't say a word to anyone. It may seem rude, but they understand what I am going to say anyway, so it is either be rude or be judged. I would prefer not everyone look at me like I'm crazy, even though I feel like it right now.

As soon as I entered my house, bags of groceries in hand, I felt a sense of relief. I quickly put away the groceries before tending to my homework. I tried my best, but after a few minutes of attempting to complete it, I gave up. Frustrated and in need of a distraction, I picked up a sketchbook and started to draw. The sound of pencil on paper was soothing, and I lost track of time as I mindlessly sketched. It wasn't until my stomach grumbled that I realized I had been drawing for hours. With a deep sigh, I put down the sketchbook and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I made something quick and easy. I gave my grandpa his dinner and ate mine. We ate in silence like usual. After I finished, I did the dishes before heading up to bed. Today was long, so I didn't mind going to bed a little early. I fell asleep pretty easily and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up at six again and went downstairs hoping everything was normal again. It wasn't. The TV was still in English. I sighed and started to make breakfast. I was trying to think why this was happening. I couldn't think of a logical explanation for this. I don't know what to do now. I couldn't just tell them that everyone I knew forgot Japanese overnight. They would send me to a mental institute.

In the morning, while contemplating the possible explanations for the unexplainable scenario, I took a break to attend to my grandpa. I prepared and served him his breakfast, ensuring he had everything he needed. After that, I made my lunch for school. Once I finished, I set out to school. The walk was calming, and I enjoyed observing the sights and sounds of the neighborhood. Soon enough, I reached my school campus, feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day's challenges. To my surprise, I heard someone talking in Japanese. I ran over to the voice to find a boy with orange hair. He was yelling at his friend to stop talking in English. He continues to panic when nobody seems to understand what he is saying.

A man in a suit comes up behind him with a taser and I run towards him.

"Watch out!" I yell. He looks at me before he gets tased by the man and passes out. The man in the suit then looks at me and tells to other men to get me too. They charge at me and I do the only logical thing anyone would do in this scenario. I run. I run outside the school's walls and into the street. They are very fast and catch me in a couple of seconds. One of them holds me in place while the other approaches me with a taser, then everything is black.

#unluck fuuko #undead unluck

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sian4chatsworth · 8 months

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Disability

The May issue of British Vogue, titled Reframing Fashion, features 19 disabled people from fashion, sport, activism and the arts. Five of them are cover stars: the actor Selma Blair, who has multiple sclerosis; Sinéad Burke, a disability activist and consulting editor for the issue; the models Ellie Goldstein and Aaron Rose Philip; and the American Sign Language performer Justina Miles. Since Edward Enninful was appointed editor in 2017, Vogue has performed a 180-degree turn: from pronounced, even defiant, homogeneity that was once its hallmark to a magazine at the frontier of what representation and diversity in fashion can look like.

Sinéad Burke

What inspired you to create Reframing Fashion?

Enninful: I met Sinéad when I started here, in 2018. We sat next to each other at the Burberry fashion show and, from that minute, I just knew we were going to work together. I said: “I’m going to take your lead, because you’ve lived it. And you continue to change people’s perspectives on disability.”

Burke: I sat next to him, tugged on his sleeve and said: “Hi, I think what you’re doing at British Vogue is incredible, but have you ever thought about disability?” Knowing that, of course, based on his own lived experience, that was always going to be part of the conversation. So, in 2019, I was the first little person to be on the cover of any Vogue.

Ellie Goldstein

Ellie Goldstein was just 18 when she made history as the first person with Down’s Syndrome to star in a luxury fashion campaign, but her determination to carve out a career in fashion came even earlier. She was only 5 when she decided on modelling. “I was walking up and down the living room at home like it was a catwalk and my mum said, ‘So, you want to be a model then?’ And I thought yes, yes I do.” Now 21, and having secured lucrative jobs for Gucci and Adidas, as well as multiple magazine covers, she prides herself on ensuring that the fashion industry can no longer ignore disability.

Ellie Goldstein, a British model with Down syndrome, agrees that “The experience was surreal and unbelievable.” Ellie, who has worked with a number of megabrands including Gucci, Nike and Adidas, is empathetic: “The world needs to see more models with Down syndrome. We need to be seen and represented. We are the same as everyone else.”

Aaron Rose Philip

In 2018, she became the first Black, transgender and physically Disabled model to be represented by a major modelling agency. In 2021, she closed the Moschino show, making her the first wheelchair-using model to be featured on the runway by a mainstream luxury brand. And, throughout it all, she’s fought for real change from the inside.

What does she want for her future? She pauses, smiles and then races through a plan: “I want to be on billboards in Paris, London, Milan and Tokyo. I want to do the whole four-city circuit, no matter how difficult it is. I want to have my own agency where I’m fostering and giving talent a loving space and home for them to be who they want to be. I want them to be seen. I want to be seen. I want my flowers.”

Jillian Mercado

Disabled model Jillian Mercado is shattering stereotypes left, right and centre. Jillian was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy during her teenage years. Despite this she has found her passion in modelling.

The petite model is currently represented by IMG Models and is one of the few professional models with a physical disability. Everyday Jillian challenges ideals and model stereotypes, creating a more accepting industry.

Her first campaign was in 2014 for big brand Diesel. Since then Jillian has done print work for Glamour Magazine and Cosmopolitan Magazine. But her quickest claim to fame would surely be modelling for Beyonce merchandise for her world tour in 2016.

Harvard Referencing:

Fig 1. LINDBERGH, P. (N/A) Image by Peter Lindbergh for British Vogue. [Photograph] Available from: https://www.sinead-burke.com [Accessed: 10th September 2023]

Fig 2. GUCCI. (N/A) Courtesy Of Gucci. [Photograph] Available from: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/fashion/fashion-news/a42845628/ellie-goldstein-model-interview/ [Accessed: 11th September 2023]

Fig 3. MITCHELL, T. (N/A) Aaron Philip photographed by Tyler Mitchell for Vogue Italia, September 2020. Styling by Carlos Nazario, Hair by Jawara, Makeup by Raisa Flowers. Photographed by Tyler Mitchell / Art Partner. [Photograph] Available from: https://www.vogue.com/article/aaron-rose-philip-how-i-got-here [Accessed: 11th September 2023]

Fig 4. DIA DIPASUPIL/GETTY IMAGES. (2020) NEW YORK, NEW YORK - February 09: Jillian Mercado appears on the runway for The Blonds during New York Fashion Week: The Shows At The Gallery I at Spring Studios on February 09, 2020 in New York City. [Photograph] Available from: https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/jillian-mercado [Accessed: 25th September 2023]

WILLIAMS, Z. (2023) ‘I have an invisible disability myself’: Edward Enninful and Sinéad Burke on their fashion revolution. [Online] Available from: https://amp.theguardian.com/fashion/2023/apr/25/i-have-an-invisible-disability-myself-edward-enninful-and-sinead-burke-on-their-fashion-revolution [Accessed: 10th September 2023].

FRASER, C. (2023) Reframing Fashion: British Vogue Celebrates Disabled Talent in Historic New Edition. [Online] Available from: https://tiltingthelens.com/2023/04/18/reframing-fashion-british-vogue-celebrates-disabled-talent-in-historic-new-edition/ [Accessed: 10th September 2023]

ALEXANDER, E. (2023) Ellie Goldstein: “Don’t ridicule people like me - take a risk” [Online] Available from: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/fashion/fashion-news/a42845628/ellie-goldstein-model-interview/ [Accessed: 11th September 2023]

BURKE, S. (2023) Model Aaron Rose Philip Is On A Mission To Level Fashion’s Playing Field. [Online] Available from: https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/aaron-rose-philip-british-vogue-interview [Accessed: 11th September 2023]

DAWSON, N. (N/A) Top 10 Models Changing The Game. [Online] Available from: https://thephotostudio.com.au/all/inspiration/10-petite-models-changing-the-game/ [Accessed: 25th September 2023]

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

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Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 11)

Azkaban wasn't great.

It was pretty fucking awful, if Draco was being honest. He kept himself as far back from the bars of the cell as he could, the closer he got, the worse it was when a dementor drifted past.

Maybe the Department of Mysteries was a better alternative to Azkaban. At least when he was trapped there he had the refuge of sleep. Here, even his dreams were tortured; the dementors' presence warped the images of Harry and the cottage, destroying the memories over and over in increasingly horrifying ways.

On the other hand, there was a small slit of a window that let in sunlight. He curled himself into a ball as close to the sunlight as he could and tried to think of his time on the beach, of the sun and the sand, of Harry's warm smile and his hair slipping through his fingers. As long as he focused really hard on it, as long as he didn't fall asleep, he could hold onto a few pieces of beauty at a time.

Draco wasn't sure how long he'd been there when a silver fox patronus came racing through, so bright that the dementors were chased off and Draco could breathe again.

The fox moved through the bars and placed itself between Draco and the door and he couldn't help but where it had come from. The only person he could imagine sending a patronus to him was Harry but everyone knew that Harry Potter's patronus was a stag.

And yet, "I'm getting you out," Harry's voice said through the patronus and Draco's heart stuttered.

He waited for the fox to vanish but the light didn't waver, Harry was still protecting him it seemed, keeping the dementors at bay.

(Read more below the cut)

Nothing changed for six days.

The warden came by multiple times to try to banish the patronus but the fox remained stubbornly at Draco's side. It all felt a bit surreal but Draco certainly wasn't going to complain.

After six days, the reporters started coming. "Mr. Malfoy, I work for the Daily Prophet," the first witch who arrived informed him, "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"I haven't got much else on at the moment," he attempted. "But I'm surprised they let you in."

"Then you underestimate how much influence Harry Potter really has."

"Harry wanted you to come here?" he asked, heart beating a little faster.

She straightened her shoulders and took out her notebook and quill, "Mr. Potter is saying that everything printed about you after your return to Azkaban is a lie. What do you say?"

"I don't know," he replied, "What's been said? I haven't gotten any papers in here, as you might expect."

The witch leaned closer to the bars, as though she was telling him some sort of secret, "He said that you didn't slip him a love potion, you didn't have him under any sort of spell, there was nothing nefarious at play."

"That's correct." But he couldn't imagine that she would believe him, even if he had been using a spell or a potion he would have said the same thing.

Her brow furrowed, "He said you were living on a secluded island before you turned yourself in and that you're in love."

"Yes," he affirmed softly.

"Then why did you leave?"

He sighed, "Because if anyone deserved to live in the wizarding world, it's the person who saved it."

She nodded, "Do you have any idea what's happening in the wizarding world right now?"

"No," he replied flatly, "They don't really let us out to see the world."

"So you're saying that this wasn't all part of some elaborate plan?"

"Sorry, what's going on?" he asked, feeling off kilter and a bit frustrated. "What plan?"

The woman stared at him for a long moment, "Harry Potter seems to be trying to bring the Ministry to its knees," she said. "He started by talking about you, then by telling the story of his godfather's wrongful conviction, and continued to tell story after story about people who've been falsely accused and convicted."

Draco felt like his eyebrows must be reaching his hairline by this point. "No," he shook his head, "No, I had no idea."

"What about the reports on ministry officials?" she asked, ignoring his response and pressing on to the next question. "Your father had a variety of connections, surely you gave him at least some of information about the officials he's blowing in."

He shook his head again, "No, I had nothing to do with that." He chuckled humorlessly, "I was raised to keep secrets until the opportune moment and to use them to apply pressure to get what I wanted."

She hummed, "It seems to me that Mr. Potter is doing exactly that."

------------------

The reporters continued coming. He had multiple visits a day over the next three days and every reporter asked similar questions.

Draco tried to understand what was happening in the wizarding world from the interviews he did, but it was hard to believe that there could be protests and rallies at the Ministry demanding his freedom.

He'd gone to sleep the third night, Harry's fox curled up on the bottom of the flimsy pad, watching the door, only to be awoken by his cell door banging open.

"Up Malfoy," the human guard who worked overnights said.

He startled, sitting up and curving inward to protect himself. "What?"

"Get up," the man barked.

The patronus placed itself between Draco and the other man and Draco's heart started to beat to rapidly.

"Now," he said, grabbing Draco's arm and dragging him out of bed.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked as the man shoved him down the hall and out toward the main entrance.

"Your time is up," the man said, thrusting a dirty shoe into Draco's hands.

Before he could ask anything else, he was being ripped through time and space, and all he could imagine was ending up somewhere even worse. They were probably going to kill him and-

His feet hit the groan and he barely had time to register sand under his feet before arms were wrapped around him, pulling him in and holding him close. The sound of waves crashing to the shore, the scent of the salt water in the air mixed with the comforting scent of Harry's body. He sagged forward, a sob escaping his throat.

"Draco," Harry murmured, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him all over, covering his cheeks, his nose, his lips, his chin, even his eyelids. "Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?" he asked.

He shook his head but couldn't get any words out.

"Come on," Harry whispered, rubbing his hands along Draco's arms, "you're shaking. Let's go inside."

Harry led him by the hand up the beach and into the little cottage, the fire was lit in the hearth and there were two cups of tea sitting on the coffee table, a plate of ginger biscuits in between.

"Do you want to get changed?" Harry asked.

"I-" Draco started before breaking off, "Sorry. What's happening? Harry, how am I here? The guard just gave me this stupid shoe and I don't-"

"The Ministry signed your release paperwork," Harry said. "They wouldn't let me come to get you, they aren't very pleased with me at the moment," he added. "I'm sort of banned from any official Ministry buildings now," he said, sounding oddly pleased.

"What happened?"

Harry looked at him longingly, "Later?" he begged. "Can I just-" he broke off stepping closer and crowding him against the wall, kissing him and crushing their bodies together. Holding him like he didn't care that Draco was smelly and hadn't been allowed to shower since arriving at Azkaban.

"Harry," he groaned, tilting his head back as Harry pressed kisses along his jaw and neck.

"Hmm?"

His fingers tugged Harry's hair until he tipped his head up far enough that he could kiss him again for a long moment. "Am I allowed to stay here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry breathed, nodding his head, their noses brushing against each other's. "You can go anywhere, do anything," he added. "We're free."

Draco shuddered as the words washed over him, the relief cool and bright. "Okay," he said. "First things first. I need a shower," he said.

Harry groaned, "Why does that have to be the first thing?"

He laughed, "I'm filthy."

"I don't care," he muttered petulantly.

"Come with me," Draco invited.

Harry pulled back far enough to wiggle his eyebrows, "I'll do my best."

--------------------

Later, after they'd showered off all of the dirt and grime, erasing all physical evidence of the week and a half they'd spent apart. After Harry had taken Draco apart; kissing him and touching him, healing all of the darkness that the prison had left seeped in his bones. After they'd eaten dinner curled up on the sofa together and drunk the tea he'd made and ate far too many biscuits. After they'd stumbled together through the house and crawled into bed. After Harry had laid him bare once more and kissed every inch of him, as though Draco was something treasured, something precious. Draco began to cry again.

"Hey," Harry whispered, moving back to the top of the bed where he kissed away Draco's tears, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

He grabbed his shoulders and pulled his body down on top of him, allowing the familiar, welcome weight of his body to ground him. "I love you," he whispered through all of the emotions swamping him.

"I love you, too," Harry murmured, stroking his hair back and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "So much."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Why do I love you?" he asked, sounding surprised by the questions.

Shaking his head he replied, "Why did the Ministry let me go? Why would they do that?"

Harry sighed and nuzzled into Draco's neck, "Because I know their secrets."

"What?"

He shrugged, "I did some digging when I had access to the Department of Mysteries information," he said in between kisses pressed to his neck, "so I just started exposing corruption that I'd found. People wanted to listen to what I had to say so I told them. Then people started protesting and here we are."

"So you blackmailed the Ministry into releasing me?"

Harry hummed, "Not really. I just helped the Ministry to see the error of their ways and be held accountable for the ways they've failed the people they were supposed to protect and serve."

"I can't believe you."

"Hmm?" Harry hummed, brushing his nose over Draco's collarbone.

"I can't believe you did that," he said. "How dare you have the audacity to love me that much?"

"Me?" Harry gasped, jerking up onto his elbows and looking at Draco like he was actually offended by Draco's words. "How dare I? What about you?" he exclaimed. "Draco you loved me so much that you were willing to go to prison for the rest of your life!"

"But you deserve to be loved that much," he protested.

"So do you!" Harry sat up, straddling his hips and glaring down at him. "I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you," he added. "If you'll let me."

He cupped Harry's cheek in his palm, "I'll let you. I haven't got another brave bone in my body."

"Good," Harry said. "Because I'm sick to death of people and their invasive questions. And if I never have to talk to a member of the press again it will be too soon. And I'm tired of having to protect myself from the ministry and playing their games," he grumbled.

He buried his face in Draco's neck again and Draco let his fingers stroke through Harry's still damp curls, heedless of the way it would make them frizzy.

"I hate everyone who isn't you," Harry mumbled.

"Well not everyone, I hope," Draco replied as he rubbed a lock of hair between his fingers, "I went through a lot of trouble to make it possible for you to be with your friends and family whenever you want," he teased.

Harry huffed a laugh, "It's ridiculous that you're making a joke about this right now. I have never been more terrified in my life."

"Oh come on," Draco said, "You literally died."

"I had a panic attack," Harry said, "When I thought I'd never see you again. I walked straight to my death without a backward glance." He pressed impossibly closer, "When I tell you I've never been more terrified in my life, I mean it."

"Harry," he murmured, awestruck.

The other man yawned and snuggled in. "But it's fine now," he said. "You're here and I'm here, and the Ministry is burning."

"Do we need to go back?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head, "Hermione's taking care of it. She has better legal avenues and it's honestly more her thing than mine anyway."

"We can stay here for a while, then?"

"In bed?" Harry asked sleepily.

He chuckled, "On the island," he clarified.

Harry nodded, "as long as you want. Everything's on fire in Wizarding London anyway, it's a complete shit show. They wouldn't give us a moment's peace."

"I'd like a little peace," Draco replied.

He felt Harry's smile against his shoulder, "A little peace," he echoed. "A little happiness."

"More than a little, if we're lucky."

Harry nodded, "We're due for a bit of luck, aren't we?"

He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, "I don't need luck when I've got you."

And no matter what life threw at them, they knew how to weather the storm; clinging to one another and the life they built on their love.

--------------

fin. I'm having a hard time letting go of this one but I can't look at it for another moment. <3 Thanks for joining me for the adventure of writing this one.

(Part 10)

#Veritaserum prompt fic #part 11 #the end #i can't look at it anymore. I've stared at it so long that I hate it.#Oof.#Ending is the hardest part #happy ending #love #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #Harry Potter saves the day

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parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

Hey I love your writing! Could you do the reader surprising Tom at a premiere after she told him she couldn't get time off work? Xx

hope u like!! sorry it’s a lil short <3

requests are temporarily closed

—

Spider-man: No Way Home is probably one of Tom’s most important movies yet, and while he longed for you to accompany him to the premiere, you just couldn’t fly out in time.

Or so he thought.

Knowing this movie was the last of this contract saddened him, and he was constantly anxious about whether or not Sony would fight for a few more movies with Tom as Spider-man.

He was genuinely looking forward to, what could be his last Spider-man premiere, with you. He was counting on you being there, but knowing now that you couldn’t make it because of your work had killed his mood to some degree.

He’s still dressed well, though, after asking you for your opinion on what suit he should wear.

Currently, he’s sitting in the backseats of the limousine, foot tapping anxiously, nervously. He keeps reaching over to grab your hand, only you’re not there, and his pout grows wider. Harry pats his knee empathetically, camera around his neck despite him well-dressed, too.

“Sorry she couldn’t be here, mate.”

“‘S alright. Just miss her.”

They don’t get to converse for any longer, because the chauffeur is informing them that they’ve arrived, and Tom is stepping out of the vehicle, right foot hitting the carpet first. There are dozens and dozens of balloons blown up and tied to the posts around the area, and a large, Spider-man is hanging in the air, just like at the Far From Home Premiere. There are hundreds of screaming fans, whose volume levels increase as Tom comes into view.

He’s wearing a dark, forest green suit, and a few thick rings. He cleans up well, and his usually messy curls are slicked back, tidy like his dress shirt. Harry steps out of the car after a few beats, and the crowd of fans doesn’t get quieter.

Tom smiles widely, waving to them all while he makes his way across the carpet and over to the group of cast members. He greets Zendaya first, who’s fitted in a tight, sleek dress that’s a deep color of red with Spider-man printed designs on it. Her hair is styled naturally, in kinks, and she has a slick necklace straight down the navel of her chest.

The two of them hug before talking. “Guess this could be the end of an era,” She speaks quietly, smile still wide as ever. Tom nods along, his own smile never faltering.

“It’s so surreal.”

“I know. We’ve been doing this for over six years, now, and I’m still not used to it.” “Yeah. I can’t believe how far we’ve gotten.” The two of them take in the sights around them, and suddenly, Zendaya is reminded of the absence of a close friend. “Are you still bummed about Y/N?” She pops the question randomly, and Tom is reminded all over again of you, and how much he misses you and longs to hold your hand for just five minutes.

“Yeah,” Tom sighs, scratching the back of his neck while he waves to a group of girls who are recording him, cheering for him to sign papers and take a few selfies.

“Well, I wouldn’t be too bummed anymore.” She points to something behind him, and Tom hears the cheers and screams of fans before he sees who’s just arrived.

You’re thanking Harrison for opening the car door for you, and as you step out of the car, you spot Tom, eyes connecting while you smile sheepishly. You wave to the fans, picking up the front of your dress so you can walk easier.

You’re fitted in a silver dress — it puffs out, and the lace sleeves are puffy and hang nicely. You’re elegant and cultivating, and you take Tom’s breath away.

The two of you meet in the middle, and as your hands connect behind his neck, his thick fingers find home on your waist. He’s smiling endlessly, now, eyes crinkling while he almost tears up.

“What are you doing here?”

You smile sheepishly. “Had to support my best boy.”

“I thought- I thought you couldn’t… make it.”

“Well then,” You move in closer, his face spaces away from yours. The distance is so easy to close, and as the fans scream louder at the proximity of the two of you, you smile harder. Suddenly, you’re whispering the words against his lips, the syllables barely getting out just as your lips connect, soft and sensually at first, but then deep and passionate, making a show of it. Hoots and hollers and claps and cheers go around, but neither of you listen to them, merely pulling each other closer, losing air.

“Surprise.”

#tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluffy #tom holland angsty #tom holland drabble

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mcwriting · 4 years

Text

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!

In which the reader is the musical guest at Saturday Night Live the same week Tom Holland is hosting.

Ship: Reader x Tom Holland

Word Count: 5747 (what in the heck?? my longest piece ever lol)

Warnings: Mild alcohol consumption

Rating: K

Preface: I mention the NBC page program, which is like an intense internship/fellowship with the company where college grads work with at least 3 parts of the company over a year to get job exposure. A lot of famous actors and actresses were pages!

***

Walking into 30 Rockefeller Center on Wednesday afternoon was a surreal experience for sure. As a young NBC page led you through hallways and up to studio 8H, you were getting butterflies.

On one side of the hall was a sign for studio 8G, which hosted Late Night with Seth Meyers, but the page turned the other way, guiding you through doors to the Saturday Night Live studio.

There was hustle and bustle all around you as she took you to your green room, which had a sign printed with your name on it over an NYC skyline. You almost pinched yourself.

You had known for about a month that you’d be performing as the musical guest for SNL the upcoming weekend, but now that you were here for your first rehearsal, things were getting real.

When your manager had asked if you wanted to play the show, she’d been met by your enthusiastic “YES! Are you kidding me?!” It was even better when she mentioned who the host would be:

Tom Holland.

You’d watched every season of SNL since you were probably in middle school. You could easily name off every cast member but would have to remember to keep your cool until after Saturday.

Another thing you’d need to stay cool about was Spiderman himself. You had the biggest crush on him, but who your age didn’t? He was charming and British, disregarding physical features. You were most nervous to meet him.

The page let you put your things down and took you to Lorne Michael’s office where he and some of the production team wanted to talk to you about your set. You’d only get two songs, but one of the writers also asked if you’d want to be in a couple sketches, too.

Later that evening would be the normal pitch meeting, where writers who’d spent all Tuesday afternoon and night into the early hours of Wednesday writing finally got to show the host and cast their ideas. They’d narrow it down to eight, so you were surprised they wanted you in not one, but two sketches.

It wasn’t difficult to say yes to that. You wouldn’t be present for the pitch meeting, however, because in just a few short hours you’d be heading down to studio 6B to film a segment for Jimmy Fallon’s show.

Your management team stayed behind at the hotel to work on details for a couple concerts you had and were planning to head up to the studio before your interview.

After the meeting, you were shown around to familiarize yourself with the studio and stage before starting your first rehearsal. For one song, it would be just you and a piano, but the other song would have a band playing while you sang and did some limited choreography.

You sat in front of the keys of a beautiful grand piano, stretching your fingers. Someone requested you play one of your songs, so you looked around, as if asking for permission. Everyone in the room nodded for you to play, so you began the tune of your favorite song from your album.

Your voice wasn’t warm and there wasn’t a mic on you, but you got lost in the lyrics and chords like you always did. By the song’s end, you’d drawn a small crowd. They clapped and you blushed when you finished, closing the lid and standing to do a sheepish curtsy.

Most of the small crowd dissipated and you were talking to some crew about stage setup when someone interrupted you.

“Sorry to bother, but that was incredible. Can’t wait to hear how good you’ll be this weekend,” said a male voice with a distinct London accent. You turned to find Tom Holland right in front of you.

“Oh, well, thank you! I- I uh, didn’t expect to meet you so soon,” you stuttered, thrusting out a hand. “Y/n y/l/n.”

He gripped your hand firmly and shook it, nodding his head once, too.

“Tom Holland. You know I was excited when I heard you’d be performing the same week I host. The last film I did, we listened to your music like, all the time. You could say I’m a fan.”

Was this real? Tom Holland was a fan of you!? You chuckled.

“I could definitely say the same for you. I love your movies. ‘Been a fan for years.”

You both smiled happily and Tom was about to respond when the page who’d been showing you around the whole time came up.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Miss y/l/n, they’ve asked to get your measurements in costuming if that’s okay.”

“Oh! Yes of course!” you said to her, then turned to Tom. “Sorry. It was nice meeting you! See you around?”

“Of course! Nice meeting you also!”

As the young girl led you away again, you missed where a younger brother of Tom said to him,

“Think you’re in love yet?”

***

After an eventful visit at the Tonight Show that included you and Jimmy playing box of lies and performing one of your songs for the audience, you headed back up to 8H alone.

You’d remembered leaving something in your dressing room and had let your team go on back to the hotel without you. You’d felt confident that you could sneak back to your hotel safely without causing a big ruckus. It was only a few blocks away.

You were digging in your bag for your phone when you bumped into someone. Each of you said a quick “oh, sorry!” before looking to see who the other was.

It was Tom again.

You hadn’t realized before, but his room was the one right next to yours. It made sense, both of you being guests and all, but you were still caught off guard.

“Headed out?” he asked. You felt yourself blushing a little.

“Yeah, well. I just finished at Fallon’s and they don’t need me back here until tomorrow so I’m heading back to my hotel to order pizza for my whole team and then crash,” you laughed.

“Oh yeah? That sounds about like what we’re doing,” Tom gestured back to his brother and best friend, who you shook hands with gladly.

You talked as you wound through the halls and quickly realized you were all staying at the same place.

“That’s crazy! We were just going to get a cab if you want to just come with us. I’m already paying for it, so...” he offered. You were surprised.

“What? No, no, I couldn’t just ride on your coattails like that,” you started.

“No seriously, y/n. It’s fine! We’re literally all going to the same place and no one can bother us from a taxi cab. You don’t even have to talk to us if you don’t want to.”

You looked at the other two boys questioningly and they nodded, encouragingly nodding for you to accept the offer.

“Okay, okay! If all of you are fine with it, I’ll come.”

They cheered and you continued in happy conversation as you headed downstairs. A doorman called a cab for you and you piled in. Harry took the front and you offered to take the middle, sandwiched between Harrison and Tom.

Never in a million years had you expected to be in such close proximity to one, much less all, of them. It was a short drive and the driver took you to a back entrance, the place celebrities usually entered.

You still weren’t quite used to the star life. Up until you’d hit it big, it was normal for you to do pretty much everything yourself and stay in relatively cheap hotels like any other person.

Now, your management team handled most things and you were staying in five star places with secret celebrity entrances and prices that would probably make your grandmother faint.

Inside, you’d also realized you were on the same floor, both of you staying in large suites used by many elites over the years. You parted ways, anticipating seeing each other in the morning for rehearsals and later that evening when you’d be doing Seth Meyers’ show together.

***

The studio was buzzing when you entered Thursday morning. Your small team headed straight for the dressing room as you were taken away to a sketch read. Both sketches the writers had asked you about had been greenlit, so you were excited to work on them

“Morning, y/n. How was the pizza?” Tom asked cheekily when you first walked in. A couple of people passing by gave strange looks but said nothing.

“Well, who doesn’t love a good New York slice, huh? I’d say it was pretty darn good. And you?”

“We ended up getting room service, but pizza’s definitely next on my list,” he joked before you were handed scripts and asked to review them. The writers and cast were trying to figure out some basic spacing as you looked over your lines and cues.

You finally got to work rehearsing the two sketches. You broke a couple times when Kate landed a punchline and when Beck accidentally tripped.

When they decided to move on from those, you where whisked away to wardrobe and makeup to shoot "bumper” stills and videos, the photos and clips between sketches and commercial breaks.

You were excited to see how they envisioned your style and personality and would bring it to life. The photographer collaborated with you and shot some really incredible photos, both serious and goofy.

Next you were back in music rehearsals figuring out more about the staging and running some diagnostic sound checks. Once lunchtime came around, your stomach was growling.

You just barely caught Tom as you went for lunch, he was finishing up as you built your plate. As it always seemed, you only got a few words in with each other before someone was dragging Tom off for his own photoshoot.

You got to talk to Harry and Harrison for a little bit, too, until your manager asked to have a quick meeting about your schedule. Once you were free, you were taken to costuming to try a few things on and figure out hair styles that would fit the show.

There were more music rehearsals and you read the new scripts (as they had already been rewritten twice now). You were pretty tired by the time someone asked you to head across the hall to prepare for Late Night.

You grabbed a quick bite to eat on your way out of 8H and finished is by the time you were in the doors of 8G and a page led you to your green room, once again located next to Tom’s.

Since you were both doing SNL together, you and Tom were going to be interviewed together, but you also had the added bonus of being the musical guest again.

You only needed to rehearse a couple times to get the sound down (it’s not like it’s live, so you could easily restart if something went wrong). Once you were finished, they brought in the studio audience and you got a chance to go back to your green room and chill for a little while.

Seth had a couple other guests, so while you were waiting, you knocked on Tom’s door to greet him and discuss the talking points each of your management had given Seth.

As the in-house band was warming up, Seth came into the room.

“Well I didn’t expect to see both of you in here,” he joked, shaking both of you hands. Tom had been on the show before, but this was your first time meeting the host.

After a couple minutes, Seth was informed of the time and made his leave, going out to meet his audience and begin taping. After his monologue and the first guest, you and Tom were called to the stage.

“Now for our nexts guests we have both the host and musical guest of this weekend’s Saturday Night Live, Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Come on out here!”

Tom gestured for you to go ahead of him, so you walked out, waving to the cheering crowd. You took the seat nearest to Seth’s desk.

“Well hello, there. Good to see you two,” he greeted as you settled in. “Welcome back, Tom, and welcome for the first time, y/n.”

“Wait this is your first time here?” Tom asked incredulously. You laughed.

“Yeah! Up until a few months ago like, no one knew who I was. Not even Seth!” you poked right back. Seth jokingly agreed.

The interview went well, both of you telling some funny stories and explaining how the week was going. Finally, you cut for a commercial.

“Alright we’ll return with y/n and Tom after this short break!”

You were right back to the interview after the commercial “break.” Towards the end of it, you all got off on the subject of alcohol.

“You are 21, right?” Tom asked you. You rolled your eyes and gave an exaggerated hair flip.

“Yes, I am of the legal age. You should know as well as anyone what it’s like to have a baby face,” you roasted, causing the audience to go “ohh!” and Tom and Seth to raise their eyebrows.

“Wow looks like we’ve got a little rivalry now. The real question is who can handle their alcohol better. I think we oughta bring you two back for my day drinking segment to settle this!”

Both of you overconfidently pointed at yourselves when Seth asked who was better with alcohol.

“Now that’s an idea I can get behind!” you exclaimed before the interview finally wrapped up and you got ready to go sing. Tom and Seth stayed at the desk while you performed, which thankfully only took one shot.

As you wrapped up the show, you gave final waves to the audience and then headed offstage. You and Tom walked through the halls together and Seth caught up with you after finishing his outro.

He thanked you both for being on the show, you took a few pictures, then talked for a while. Seth was eventually called away to look at something, so you said your goodbyes to him and continued towards the green rooms.

“You were great tonight. Your voice is phenomenal,” Tom said to you. “and honestly I can’t believe you haven’t been doing talkshows that long. You’re a natural.”

“I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I love to talk about myself,” you quipped. “But seriously, thank you. Everything leading up to now has happened so fast, it’s hard to really gauge if things are going well or not.”

“I can relate to that. It’s hard, but having my family and brothers helps keep me grounded, you know? Harrison, too. They know that they can call me out and, yeah, I might get mad at first, but I understand that they’re keeping me from getting a big head.”

“Yeah I can’t imagine how overnight it must have been for you. My family and friends definitely don’t miss the chance to poke a little fun here and there to keep my ego down, too. You know, it’s nice talking to someone who understands for once. I love them, but unfortunately they’ll never fully get what it’s like, but you do,” you smiled.

You talked a little more, then spilt off to actually go to get ready to leave the building for the night. The upcoming Friday was going to be a long one.

Once again, you let your manager and assistant and everyone leave ahead of you. Regardless of whether you would hitch a ride with Tom again, you could find your way around easily.

You waited by the door until you heard their voices nearing and the boys came into the hallway.

“Oh y/n, you’re still here, too,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I was trying to decide what to do for dinner tonight before I head back to the hotel.”

“Well we’re going to grab some pizza if you want to join us,” Harrison offered happily, causing Tom to look at him funny.

“Y/n probably doesn’t want to be bothered by us all day every day and plus, she had pizza last night, I’m sure she doesn’t want it again. Sorry, y/n, don’t feel pressured by this div,” Tom said apologetically.

“Honestly, I could eat pizza everyday, so that’s not an issue, and I honestly love hanging out with you guys. You remind me of my friends back home. If y’all want to eat together, I seriously would not mind.”

“Really?” Tom asked incredulously, then recomposed himself. “Well, yeah, sure. We were gonna head back to the hotel to change clothes and then figure things out from there, is that okay?”

“That sounds perfect, except I’m paying the cab fare this time.”

***

In most situations, a group of guys you’d only known a couple of days asking you into their hotel room would be a major red flag, and it probably still should have been, but you threw caution to the wind and went to Tom’s suite anyways.

Harry answered the door and let you in, and inside you found Tom and Harrison on the floor of the living space drinking beers. They both raised their cans up to you as you came in.

All three of the boys were in simple sweats and t-shirts, similar to you in your leggings and sweatshirt. It wasn’t much later that Harry went to the lobby to retrieve the pizzas they’d ordered and you were all digging in, seated around the coffee table talking.

You all discussed random things, poking fun at each other like you were old friends. It was like they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“How you think this weekend’s gonna go, y/n?” Tom asked between swigs of his ale.

“I’d say pretty good. I’m hella nervous though. SNL is like its own universe.”

“You can say that again. This is like nothing I’ve ever done before.”

“Oh, come on. You two are both going to do great Saturday. Don’t think too much about it and just have fun,” Harrison encouraged as you continued eating.

Throughout the evening, you couldn’t help but pick up on the way you and Tom kept making eye contact. It was brief, but it was different than how you and Harry or Harrison looked at each other. There was something else there.

Your stomach fluttered. Who else could say that they spent an evening drinking with their biggest celebrity crush? And then continually exchange flirty looks?

At one point Tom even tossed a wink at you after cracking a joke, causing your heartbeat to quicken momentarily.

After getting lost in conversation with the boys, you realized the time and prepared to excuse yourself back to your own room. The coming morning was going to be an early one, after all.

“Oh man, I better head out. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” you commented, stretching as you stood up. The boys followed suit.

“Wow I didn’t even realize how long we’ve been sitting here,” Tom added.

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting me come over tonight. I haven’t gotten to do something like this in a while so it’s nice to just spend time with people who I don’t pay to hang around me all day, you know?”

“I understand and definitely can agree, since these divs are kind of paid to hang around me.”

You all laughed as Tom walked you to the door.

“Well. See you bright and early...” you trailed.

“Yeah, see you then,” Tom answered, awkwardly sticking out his arms for a hug. You obliged, squeezing your arms around his neck as his held your waist.

And goodness did he give good hugs.

***

You were definitely tired walking into 8H Friday morning. The caffeinated drink in hand helped a little, but late night beers paired with waking up early didn’t quite go hand in hand.

It wasn’t really a hangover either, since you hadn’t been fully drunk, but it didn’t help the exhaustion from traveling, working the past two days, and a lack of sleep.

The first thing you had to do was rehearse your songs for Saturday as the set team worked on transporting and putting together large set pieces that had been made at the navy yard in Brooklyn.

Tom and the cast weren’t far away, figuring the live show with costuming and quick changes along with doing some pre-filmed sketches. The writers were continually making adjustments and figuring out how things would be done.

They eventually called you over, too, to rehearse your sketches and film one of them. You had to get used to the costumes and cue cards and blocking of each. There had been some minor changes as well, so you had to be quick on your feet.

By lunchtime, all the cast took a well deserved break to sit and have a bite. The writers were having to shuffle around while they tried to eat as you and Tom sat down to talk some more.

“Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you guys mind if I take a picture or two for the SNL social media accounts?” a page asked while you were munching on sandwiches.

You and Tom looked at each other and shrugged.

“Fine with me,” you answered, Tom giving a similar reply. The two of you leaned in next to each other, holding up your sandwiches and laughing.

A few photos were snapped and you and Tom approved of them to be posted online. You thought nothing of it as you went to more rehearsals, working through the show’s order and trying to get down timing before Saturday’s dress rehearsal and show.

You couldn’t help but laugh watching the sketches, as this was your first time seeing the ones you weren’t a part of. Tom’s comedic timing and dry British humor paired well with the material he was given.

When the day came to an end, you were looking through instagram and gathering your things. You went to SNL’s page and put the post of you and Tom together onto your story, adding the text “Can’t wait for everyone to see my favorite sandwich partner host the show tomorrow!”

As before, you thought nothing of it and posted the story, heading out the door to ride back with Tom and the boys.

***

At the hotel, you and Tom had decided to not hang out for the evening since you’d be having a late, late night Saturday and wanted to get some sleep. You opened up social media as you laid in bed to wind down.

You decided to look at the picture of you and Tom from lunch again and read some comments, hoping there would be some funny ones and whatnot.

Instead, you found hundreds of comments saying “omg ship” and “my two faves together” and “this couple would be everything!!”

You were honestly shocked to see people saying that about you, especially since you had never heard of your fans indicating that they wanted to see you two together.

Twitter was also buzzing over you and Tom’s picture, some fan pages just talking about either one of you, while others also talked about shipping you.

In your heart, you kind of enjoyed it, since you were hardcore crushing on Tom now, but you had no idea how he felt.

Did he like you back? Did he just think of you as just a friend or acquaintance? Was he secretly dating someone and you were just reading too much into it?

It was much to think about, so instead you closed your phone and fell into a deep slumber.

***

You didn’t have to be in the studio as early as the past days since dress rehearsal wasn’t until 8pm and the show started at 11:30. You felt better rested than the day before, but butterflies were constantly erupting in your stomach.

You and Tom caught each other at the building’s entrance and went up the elevators together.

“Ready for tonight?” you asked, tapping a foot anxiously.

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Same here. Not only is it going to be watched by millions, but some of the most important people in my life are coming and I’m freaking out a little.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked softly. “And who would that be?”

“Well, my parents and some friends from home. I can sing in front of sold out stadiums but I still get nervous if I know they’re in a crowd. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No I totally get it. My parents and brothers will all be here, too, and my heart races when they watch my work. The best advice ever given to me, though was ‘turn nerves into excitement,’ and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

You nodded and smiled up at him.

“That is pretty good. Thanks,” you replied as the elevator doors opened.

The halls were bustling with what seemed like every employee as you headed to your green room. It wasn’t long before you were being thrown updated scripts and rehearsing again.

Finally as dusk turned to night, the dress rehearsal audience seats began filling up. You were bouncing nervously in the hall as you watched the cast begin the cold open on a monitor.

“Nervous?” a male voice asked quietly next to you. It was Tom, of course. You bobbed your head from side to side.

“Excited,” you replied cheekily. He smiled and was about to say something else when a crew member came by to lead him to his starting place for the monologue. He gave a quick wave before heading backstage, instead.

The dress rehearsal went okay, certain jokes and lines being cut and rearranged by the end for time. Thankfully the audience received everything well, for the most part.

Your own music and sketches felt like a rush, but you were proud. Tom’s advice had really gotten to you, because you were bubbling with excited anticipation for 11:30 broadcast to begin.

There was about an hour between dress and the actual taping, so you scarfed down a few bites of food and tried to shake out some jitters. You also sipped some caffeinated hot tea and did vocal runs to stay in tip top shape.

Your friends and family stopped by the green room to say hi before they joined the audience, giving you hugs and encouragement for the evening ahead.

As the clock neared 11:30, you were walking down a hall already dressed for your first song when you almost bumped into Tom.

“Oh, hey! Great job at dress! You’re gonna do amazing,” you immediately said, making him beam.

“Thank you! And you too! Your voice is on fire tonight, as if it’s ever not.”

“You haven’t heard me try to sing sick, then. I sound like a diseased animal.” You shook your hands and head to dismiss yourself. “But, uh, earlier I was gonna tell you ‘break a leg’ and then I remembered you used to dance, sooo... merde.”

Tom raised his brows and chuckled.

“You know that phrase too?” You nodded. “Well then merde to you, too. Oh, and I was wanting to ask if tonig-”

Tom was cut off by someone once again needing to drag him away to prepare for the show, causing you both to toss waves at each other again. Maybe he’d finish his thought later.

This was it. The real deal.

You took that as a cue to find your place by the monitors until after Tom’s monologue and the commercial break, when you’d start moving to stand with the band.

The cold open landed well, and you felt chills hearing two of the cast yell,

“And live from New York, IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!”

The classic jazz music of SNL played over the intro and Tom made his way down the iconic steps to do his monologue.

Your heart fluttered seeing him stand on that stage with a wide smile, waving at the crowd. He was dressed in a blue suit and his curls were styled just right. He looked incredible.

The monologue landed well and you felt an even bigger flutter as you heard Tom lead into commercial, saying the iconic line,

“We have a great show for you tonight! Y/n Y/l/n is here! So stick around we’ll be right back!”

With that the camera panned out and cut, and chaos began as the crew moved everyone to set the first live sketch. In the meantime, a prefilmed sketch played, the one you had participated in.

The audience cheered and laughed at your surprise appearance in the sketch, which made you feel really good. You had moved now to a place where you could see the stage in person.

The camera panned in as the audience applauded and the next sketch began. Even after having seen it multiple times that week, you couldn’t help but laugh as the ridiculous character Tom played so well.

When they cut to another commercial break, it was your time to get ready to sing the first song.

Your stomach fluttered like it always did before a show, but Tom shot you a thumbs up before the break ended and boosted your confidence. A camera was pointed in his face as he calmly said,

“Ladies and gentlemen, y/n y/l/n,” as he gestured towards you.

The lights came up and you began playing, and you became lost in the music like always. It came and ended quickly, and suddenly you were listening to the cheers of the audience. You waved and bowed in thanks as the cameras panned again.

Up came the weekend update, your favorite part of any Saturday Night Live. The jokes for the segment were typically written on Saturday, so many of them were new to you.

Tom came and stood next to you during the update with a bowl-cut red wig dressed in khakis and a sweater vest over a button up. You looked him up and down amused.

“Your performance was amazing,” he whispered.

“Thanks. You’re doing great out there. They love you,” you whispered back.

“I sure hope so. Hey I’ve been trying to ask if-” he started, but then was cut off by someone grabbing him and leading him towards stage for the next sketch. Your stomach fluttered again.

What could he possibly want to ask me?

The live sketch transitioned into a prefilm and then you were up again, this song was more energetic and included some choreography, and you felt confident in the shimmering gold bodysuit and boots you were wearing.

You happily danced and sung after Tom reintroduced you to the crowd and got a large round of applause. There was only one sketch left of the show and you were in it, so the team rushed you into a quickchange booth offstage to put on your costume and a quick wig.

The sketch began and you stood to the side nervously. When your cue came, you burst onto the stage clumsily, as directed by the script. Your character made some inappropriate comments to Tom’s which garnered you many laughs again.

It was satisfying.

Once the sketch ended, all that was left were the goodnights, so you were again rushed off to change into a cute jumpsuit and reaffix your hair. Tom came out in a blue suit with the jacket unbuttoned, a black tee underneath.

You rushed to take your place next to him as other cast members filed in around you, Lorne standing in the middle of the room watching to make sure everyone came out. The audience applauded as the music played and camera panned.

After they gave the final countdown, Tom began giving thanks to many people, from cast and crew, to family, and to you.

“I want to give a huge thanks to tonight’s musical guest, y/n y/l/n,” he exclaimed, gesturing to you. The crowd cheered and you laughed and waved, giving him a joking elbow.

“I love you all! Goodnight!” he finally exclaimed.

With that, the music was brought up and everyone began hugging as the credits rolled. You immediately turned to Tom and he to you, both of you throwing arms wide.

You wanted to hug him forever, but realized that it would look fishy and there were many people you still wanted to hug and thank.

Both of you pulled back, giving each other a quick “good job!” before turning to others.

***

You were finally offstage and had said quick goodbyes to your family, who wouldn’t be staying for the afterparty. As you headed towards the greenroom for the last time that night, you were stopped by Tom.

“Hey! Y/n,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh my gosh there you are!” you said, turning to give him another hug, this one more emotional and less performative.

“I’m serious y/n, you were incredible. I know I’ve said it a million times but you have a real gift. Not to mention your acting skills,” he said into the crook of your neck.

You pulled away to look at him, arms still loosely wrapped around him.

“Well thank you, but you were great too. Everyone loved you. I loved you out there.” You paused for a moment, arms sliding from his shoulders as you continued to walk down the hall. “You know I had a lot of fun this week. Doing this and just hanging out. I was really nervous to meet you.”

“I did too, and yeah, we were all super nervous to meet you, too. Like I told you before, we listen to your music a lot. But, uh, that being said. All night I’ve been trying to ask if you’d like to go to the afterparty with me?”

“Oh yeah that’s perfect! Are the guys coming too?” you asked enthusiastically, not detecting the nervousness in his voice.

“No, no. I mean, yeah they’ll be there but...” he stopped and you followed suit. “I’d like you to go with me with me. And ideally leave with me... alone.”

Your eyes widened and breath hitched. Now it clicked. He was asking you out.

“Oh! Well then... I’d like that very much.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Let’s just say you were singing a different kind of tune that night once you left to your empty hotel room “with him.”

***

A/N: omg omg omg I started this story forever ago but finally got around to finishing it! No new marriage project chapter this week, I thought I’d just post this to hold y’all over ;) Thanks for reading!

Permanent tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

If you’d like to be added, pls message or send an ask so you can verify that I’ve added you!

#live from new york it's saturday night #snl au #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield #Harry Holland #tom holland spider man

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dearingbooks · 3 years

Text

The Difference one Woman can make.

Late Friday night in June, we had stopped for a burger on the way to the cinema, we used to do family movie nights at the cinema when a new film came out that the majority of us wanted to watch, this time I was the one who was reluctant to go, sadly we do this significantly less now. So, stubborn 2015 me, rolling her eyes and dragging her feet up the cinema steps to find our seats to watch the new Jurassic World movie. Pathetic! I thought, why pay money to watch a movie about a dinosaur theme park! My parents had completely lost it! Huffing and puffing I took my seat on the aisle and sipped my blue raspberry slushie and looked up at the big screen. Ugh! I wanted it to be over, quickly. I sat down and shut my mouth, despite not wanting to watch it, I wasn’t going to spoil it for the others; but I didn’t get why they would want to watch it, I watched the trailer before going, was not impressed, it looked dumb!

However, as much as my pre-Jurassic self would not like, I found who I was during that movie, I discovered a whole new admiration for actors and movies. I found that I related to the main female protagonist, Claire Dearing. She did not need a man, or children, she was so focused on her career and let no one boss her around. She was top dog, and I completely fell for this fictional character. I evolved through that movie with her character, I felt content with being a strong female who put career over family. I wanted to embody this fictional woman; I wanted to be her.

On the journey home I typed ‘Claire Dearing actress’ into google and saw this stunning redhead- Bryce Dallas Howard. I immediately recognised her from movies I had watched prior, and I was completely astounded at her range of characters she can portray and portray them well. After scrolling through her Wiki page and reading news articles about her, I learned that she is the daughter of Ron Howard, one of my parents’ favourite people in film.

“Dad, that woman in the movie is Ron Howard's daughter”, I needed to inform my family that my now favourite woman in film is the daughter of my parents’ favourite people in film. My parents were shocked that I enjoyed the movie despite my loud vocalisation of not wanting to watch it.

Googling ‘Bryce Dallas Howard’ became my new after school routine, learning that she applied to acting school as Bryce Dallas to avoid people knowing she is the daughter of an already famous actor and director, and she had met her true love at nineteen and is still happily married to him. Yet what most stuck out to the self-conscious, body hating 2015 me, was that Bryce wasn’t a skinny twig of a woman that you see in most movies, she had classy curves and promoted body positivity despite some backlash the media gave her. I made a connection with this woman I had never met because I too received negative comments about my figure, yet Bryce took that on the shoulder and learned to love herself. I wanted to feel that self-love about myself that she acquired.

After watching Jurassic World, I explored many more fandoms, and from there I became obsessed with movie franchises and TV shows, actors and directors. I could not give you a full list of all of the fandoms I am in, there are too many to count, and they have all played a role in helping me evolve to who I am today. All because I latched onto one character from one movie I did not even want to watch, one film got me hooked on this life: it’s like a drug. I cannot stop. I also went back and forth with my hairstyle due to this woman; in the movie Bryce has a stunning ginger graduated bob with a fringe, however I never had the guts to go ginger until now; shame the hairdressers are all shut.

Now, almost six years later Bryce Dallas Howard has had great success in directing two episodes of The Mandalorian. Over the Christmas break I watched the show with my dad, sat on the sofa, fire lit, the chocolate Labrador curled up between us, peach vodka and diet lemonade in my hand, hot cup of tea in my dad’s. We binge watched both seasons in a week (it’s amazing) and he was shocked to see ‘Directed by Bryce Dallas Howard’ at the end of one, let alone two episodes. “Shit, she’s come far in the past few years” he said putting another episode on.

Bryce allowed me to find my best friend, Iz, through Instagram; Bryce has brought so many people together it is so surreal. And when I found out that Iz was going to Southampton University in 2019, a 20-minute drive from my house, I was finally able to meet her, because of one woman we both adore. I was friends with Iz for three years before I was able to meet her, I asked my school friend to come along with me so she could film the moment Iz, and I met! We got pancakes and watched the second Maleficent movie at the cinema, it was one of the best days of my life. I was so thankful that I met a truly hilarious and loving girl through this one actress! Because of Bryce Dallas Howard, I have made so many other friends from all over the globe as they too idolise Bryce and together we have created the ‘BDH online family’. A small group of us do regular zoom calls to catch up and chat about the recent photos and updates that Bryce has posted on Instagram, talk about Covid-19 and the types of restrictions and lockdown rules each of our countries has. During one of our calls, we had the craziest idea- Invite Bryce to one of our zoom calls. Bryce said yes! And after a few months of organisation, we had the date. The date was-

My.

Birthday.

The day came around and I was so nervous, it was 11pm exactly. The Wi-Fi had cut out fifteen minutes before the call. I was in tears. Mascara down my face, puffy eyes, I joined the call with a few minutes to spare before Bryce joined it. My mum hung around off camera for the first 5 minutes to double check the Wi-Fi was stable, luckily it stabilised. The other girls had never been so glad to see me, everyone was panicked for me; I could not miss it for the world (despite telling my parents, in floods of tears, that I cannot join and that it’s the end of that).

“Kat! You’re here!” “Happy birthday!” “Are you okay? The Wi-Fi sorted?”

They all chimed, happy to see my little face in the bottom right corner of their computer screens. Luckily Iz was there, otherwise it would have been extremely awkward with only one of us since we are known as a duo in the online family, we have to do everything together, we come in a pair and there can’t just be one of us.

“Shit girls, that was stressful”

I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until I exhaled the large breath when my Wi-Fi settled, and I was on the call, I fixed my makeup and was ready to meet Bryce.

The few minutes we had before Bryce joined were intense, two of the girls left to get a drink and we weren’t sure if they would be back in time, luckily they did return.

“No way!” One of them, Anna who was hosting the call, gasped “Bryce is in the waiting room!”

We all freak for no more than 10 seconds, we compose ourselves then our faces are reshuffled, and we see this stunning glowing face that we all admire smiling at us. Omg, it's her.

“Hi girls!”

I have never smiled for so long in my entire life, my cheeks hurt afterwards. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining at all, it just hurt as I thought I would only be smiling for half an hour, since that is how long we were told Bryce had. However, we were speaking to Bryce for nearly an hour and a half, she just kept talking and asked us questions! She was so lovely to talk to, so relaxed; it was if I was talking to a friend that I had known for years!

“Before we go I want to all sing Kat a happy birthday!”

My idol wanted to sing me a happy birthday! The other girls were really ecstatic for me, I still can’t believe to this day that The Bryce Dallas Howard wanted to sing to me!

It was both the best and the worst happy birthday song that has be sung to me. It was the best because, well my idol was singing to me! And proposed the singing! It was the worst in terms of the actual song as they were all out of sync and lagging, it was bloody hilarious!

At 10:27pm the next evening, watching a rerun of Game of Thrones on Sky, I got a notification ‘Brycedhoward just posted’, I clicked the notification then see our smiling faces on her page, she posted a screenshot of our call on her social media! The call was supposed to be a secret so other fans weren’t upset. There’s a few snotty comments on the post, but they’re just jealous and to be frank, I don’t care! My smiley face is on her page forever! All ten of us have printed the screenshot of Bryce’s post off and put it in a frame, one day all ten of us hope to congregate somewhere, most likely in America, and sign the backs of all of our photos. I’m still in utter awe and shock- How many celebrities have you seen that would do a free zoom call with some fans? Not a lot, and that amount is even slimmer when they talk for an extra hour than scheduled. Bryce truly is one of a kind and the best idol anyone could ever hope to have.

Compared to a zoom call with Bryce herself, the few times she has liked my comments on her posts feel like nothing in comparison! I remember being so excited, running downstairs to my parents.

“Mum! Dad! Bryce liked my comment! She knows I exist!”

“Was it actually her? Remember when you got a Facebook request from Robert Downey Jr and it turned out it was a fake account?”

I rolled my eyes at her, it was Bryce, it was her verified account. The comment was a book recommendation I had for her, she posted on her hashtag BDHbookshelf and I thought I’d take a chance and comment a book recommendation I had for her, and the chance paid off.

I cannot wait to see what the future holds with Bryce, she has been such an inspiration to me for the past few years, and she promotes such wonderful causes and body positivity! I hope to one day meet her and thank her in person for changing my life for the better, and I think I’ve come up with the perfect opportunity to meet her- Iz and I have decided to travel up to London for the Jurassic World Dominion premiere in 2022 (if Covid lets us!), we’d get a hotel and actually meet Bryce in person, as well as meeting other members of the online family!

Words cannot fully contain the admiration that I possess for Bryce, her soul is utterly and truly exquisite, she has been such a visionary while I’ve been transitioning from a girl who had no idea who she was with no dreams or aspirations, to a woman who has now found so many new friends and now knows who she wants to be.

#bryce dallas howard #claire dearing #jurassic park #jurassic world #jurassic #blog #owen grady #chris pratt #marvel #Claire Dearing fanfic #bdh #bdh online family #writing #celeb #Jurassic fanfic #june 2015 #film review #favourite films

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rq-s · 3 years

Text

Title: Lucid Dreams - Chapter 1

Word Count: 2680

Warnings: Mingyu is featured heavily in the first few chapters and is directly involved in significant plot events. Due to recent events, I understand if reading these chapters may make you uncomfortable, but be aware that you’d be missing core story elements by skipping them. (Details)

Lucid Dreams Masterlist

Prologue |

It was an hour after dawn, the streets were busy with students and workers on their commute. Yn gazed out of her apartment window, forlornly missing when she would do that. Why wasn’t I doing that? I should still be in college, worrying about scores and my social life.

She was still slowly waking up, with unfocused eyes and bad balance, as she sat at her desk. She shifted in her chair and faced her journal again, with two blank pages staring up at her.

It started as a school project, but it turned into a habit that Yn kept through her youth.

Yn stood and left it open without having written anything, frustrated with herself. If she had dreamt last night, it was long gone from her mind, and she had nothing else to write. There were more days like this lately. Update-less, absent days.

Eventually, Yn left the apartment complex with her phone and wallet and walked the familiar path. For weeks she had been going on walks around town, and she’d always somehow pass by the same peculiar store. She found herself lingering there, wanting to go in just to have her questions answered, but something within herself always stopped her. Online searches turned up very little. Just some patents, an under construction website, a local news article, and a few social media postings by previous customers. Everything she found only made her more curious.

The town seemed quiet, though it wasn’t ever busy. It made the journey to Dream Store a peaceful one, even as Yn's nervousness began to bubble.

She arrived a few hours before noon, the sunlight warm and shining brightly past the cartoonish and fluffy clouds. The well-tended potted plants, power washed sidewalk, and neon sign all had a strangely comforting feeling to them that welcomed her. Even the grey layered siding was sweet, despite how it clashed with the surrounding architecture. Yn stood on the sidewalk, facing the front patio, and hardened her resolve. Today would be her first time seeing what it was like inside; she refused to put it off anymore.

Yn approached the door in quick strides and read the print on the window before entering. “Dream Store | keeping hold of our hearts.”

Her breathing went still as soon as she pulled the door open. It was more spacious inside than the exterior led on, having a pastel pallet and being well lit. It felt like the door way was more then just the entrance to a business.

The first thing to see was the bar. A fairly long one, taking up most of the far wall, yet was still tucked in the corner. From the left wall towards the center were eight different taps, and on a counter behind the bar were two large blenders, a sink, and a small ice cream station with five flavors. A small Bluetooth speaker on the end of the counter was playing instrumental lo-fi, and somehow the air itself felt light and bubbly against her skin. On the wall above the bar was a large LED menu with what appeared to all be beverages in narrow-necked glass bottles. On the little space that was left against the far wall was a freezer, decorated in stickers and notes. So it’s a juice bar? The tweets just mentioned ice cream. There was a hallway by the fridge, presumably leading to bathrooms and the staff area. In front of that and against the right wall were wood tables and chairs with mismatched cushions. There were similar tables meant for two on the left side, with what seemed to be medium sized square lockers, and two vending machines full of those same bottled drinks from the LED screen. It all felt surreal, it was too perfect.

“Excuse me?” Yn’s attention was brought back to reality by the voice of man, one she hadn’t even seen standing behind the bar until that moment. His fingers were intertwined and rested gently on the bar while he leaned forward, as if he’d been calling her for a while. Once he saw he had her attention, he stood upright and smiled sincerely.

“Welcome to our Dream Store!” It was as if the entire scenario was a prank, he was an actor and this business was a set. Everything was still and quiet, with nothing and nobody in existence but this store and the two of them.

Finally, Yn approached the bar.

Instead of a name tag, the name Mingyu was sewn onto the collar of his white dress shirt. He was very tall, and his uniform was clearly tailored for to fit him perfectly. His smile was kind and courteous as he spoke to her.

“Is this your first time here?” He asked gently, but with no less energy in his voice than before. Yn nodded.

“Gotcha, let’s find you a table then.” He chirped, and walked around from behind the bar, grabbing a physical menu from somewhere behind the register. “Do you like to sit by the window, or in the corner?”

“Anywhere that lets me see the exits, please.” She answered softly. Mingyu didn’t seem phased by her request and tapped his chin in thought while looking around. Only then did Yn notice one of the benches by the hallway was taken, where two teenage girls were fast asleep. It wasn’t uncommon to see college kids or overworked employees taking powernaps at cafés, but seeing them sleeping so peacefully while hunched over the table was something Yn found odd. Are those pillows matching the seat cushions?

Mingyu decided to seat her at one of the tables for two, the one closest to the taps on the bar. She could observe the whole store there, and had a clear view of the front door and the hallway, while sitting snugly in the corner by the vending machines. Yn sat down carefully as Mingyu set the menus in front of her. Sitting down brought her attention up, making her notice the peculiar ceiling with exposed beams, cords, pipes, and ducts, all painted white to match the ceiling itself. Something about the unconventional look of it was comforting for Yn, as if the establishment itself was being laid bare for her.

“First, thank you for coming in, we really appreciate your interest,” He smiled awkwardly for a moment before continuing, “I’m going to get someone from the back to watch the register for me, feel free to look at that menu in the meantime.” Mingyu lowered his head a tiny bit then swiftly headed down the hallway.

Thank you for visiting our Dream Store! All the staff here are proud of our beverages, passionate about our purpose, and excited to give you a safe, enjoyable experience when you spend time with us. We believe that we offer your community something special, not only with our drinks, but with our potential to give each visitor a unique and individualized experience.

Mingyu came back before she could read further, with another tall young man behind him, who promptly went behind the counter and washed his hands after smiling in acknowledgment to her. He seemed familiar, but she didn’t know why or how. Mingyu sat himself across from her with a sigh, feeling very nervous and struggling to act like he wasn’t.

“Alright, sorry about that. Did you get a chance to look at the menu?”

“Only the first paragraph.”

“Okay cool, the way the menu explains it is kind of weird, so it’s better that I do it.” Yn only grew more confused. She watched as Mingyu glanced over towards the other man, she wanted to look back to see what was going on, but didn’t. Instead, Yn watched as Mingyu squinted, shook his head in confusion, and then silently gasped in realization, all within a few moments. Mingyu swallowed and nodded to himself before redirecting his focus back to her.

“Is it alright if I know your name?”

“Uh, sure? It’s Yn.” He nodded formally and put on awkward smile.

“It's nice to meet you, I’m Mingyu. Like I said, thanks for coming in today.” He failed to fight the cringe on his own face and hurried past it.

“Essentially, we can offer you different kinds of drinks: juices, sodas, and smoothies. They’re all made by us, with our recipes, and you can either have them made for here or to go, or even from the coolers right here.” He leaned over and patted the cooler that had a variety of colored drinks in sturdy glass bottles.

“Why do you need to explain that to me?” She asked without thinking, having already picked up on the fact that this was a place that sold beverages. It was a selling point that they concoct them themselves, and that they can do all this seemingly without a big brand to fund them, but she doubted that it required introduction to every new customer. Yn heard the man behind the register chuckle, then try to hide it with a cough.

“I was getting there.” He stammered, his face flushing a soft red.

“If you’d like to have something here, there’s the option to make it a sleep aid. We call it a Sleepy. With those, we prepare the drink as we usually would, but instead of the liquid sugar we usually use, we use a mix of liquid sugar and drowsiness medicine. We’ve been able to use that in a low volume but effective dose to allow our customers to have a refreshing drink, followed by a recharging nap.” Yn watched him cringe again as he tried his best to explain it without making it sound as bizarre as it was. He continued as soon as she tried to comment, eager to get it the introduction over with.

“You don’t need to worry though! When a visitor picks one of our sleepy drinks, we give them a key to their corresponding table, and that key opens one of those lockers. You can put your things there beforehand so you know they’re safe while you sleep. We have cameras in here and outside, and there’s always at least one member of staff on duty who's trained to handle altercations of any kind, and all of us are trained in first aid and emergency procedures like CPR.” There was another chuckle from behind her, and he didn’t even try to hide it this time. Mingyu glared at him, and this gave Yn her opening to speak.

“So you take safety seriously, that’s good…” She was at a loss of what to say, having been bombarded with information, all of it outside of what she’d expected. She wasn't sure what the odds were leaning toward: him having a scripted yet speedy and thorough defense to any worries or questions she’d have, or that he’d flounder as soon as she asked for details.

“Of course we do. We know it’s a risk to just take a nap at a café. Especially one run but a bunch of young adult guys. But we’re trying something new that no one else in the world is doing, and we really believe in it.” Mingyu’s sudden sentiment was sincere, and his nervousness looked more like vulnerability now. Something compelled her to trust him. Maybe what he was saying about having something completely unique wasn’t true, Yn had no clue, but it might as well be for a town like theirs.

“You’ll notice that we have 13 distinct drink options available right now, each one named after a member of the staff.” Mingyu opened the menu and flipped a few pages till Yn could see depictions of each of the drinks. They were colorful, and beautifully presented on the pages, with descriptions of each one. He stopped on a page of cool toned drinks.

“Let’s say you come in and decide to order a Sleepy Mingyu, that’s this one,” He pointed to the deep purple iced drink and tapped its picture fondly. “It’ll come in a medium glass bottle, with a straw and napkin of course, along with a locker key that corresponds to whatever table you pick. While we’re making it, you can put your stuff in the locker, and inside the locker will be a small pillow, but you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. We switch the covers after every use and wash all of them each night, so don’t worry about that either. You can decide to keep the key with you, or give it to whoever’s at the register for safekeeping.” He began to ramble again, wracking his brain to make sure he mentioned everything Yn could possibly need to know while to keep himself from growing too embarrassed. She sat there patiently, listening as he helped her understand. He seemed to grow more uneasy with each word.

“You’ll probably want to wait at your table till the drink is done, it usually takes less than five minutes. We’ll bring it to you.”

Mingyu paused and took a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek in thought, picking his words carefully. He hadn’t looked at her since his sentiment about safety and now it seemed like he was actively choosing not to look up at her.

“The Sleepys only come in medium because the drowsiness medicine is fast acting, and we try to make sure that you’ll have enough time to finish it all before you fall asleep.” He looked to the man behind the counter, and this time Yn dared to look at him too. But he only looked at Mingyu, giving his coworker an encouraging, albeit aggressive, thumbs up. Mingyu shook his head.

“This is really weird, Jun. How do you guys explain this kind of thing without seeming creepy?!” He seemed deeply upset, frustrated and on the verge of tears. It suddenly felt like Yn was intruding on something private.

“Take a breath, okay?” The man came around the counter and spoke gently to his colleague, kneeling to the ground like a father would when speaking to a child. He was close enough now that Yn could read the name on his collar as Junhui. He put his hand on Mingyu’s knee and squeezed it a few times, urging him to relax. Then he turned to Yn.

“Once you finish your drink, you’re gonna fall asleep, and we’ll watch over you while you do. You’ll have a great dream, and we’ll wake you up at whatever time you told us to when you ordered, or after you’ve been asleep for 2 hours.” Junhui stood back up, and patted Mingyu’s shoulder while still looking at Yn.

“Mingyu is a really great guy. He cares a lot about people and about what we're trying to do here. And if you ask me, his drink is one of the best.” Junhui’s smile was warm and his tone of voice was calming as he praised his friend. Mingyu still couldn’t look at her, facing away from her entirely and looking downtrodden. Yn didn’t know what to say and instead decided to read the blurb about Mingyu's concoction.

A sweetly rich concord grape flavored soda! Mingyu’s soda brings one’s imagination to life, while remaining proud and inspired.

“I’ll try it.” She spoke casually, trying to imagine what such a drink would taste like. It had been so long since she’d had a grape flavored drink of any kind, and something carbonated sounded great in that moment.

“You don’t have to.” Mingyu said pitifully, assuming she chose his drink to help him feel better.

“The picture looks really pretty, I wanna see if it really looks like that.” Her bluntness stunned him, and he wondered if she was bluffing. Even so, he resolved to grin and bare it, standing up from the table. Junhui stepped back and smiled, leaving silently as Mingyu went back behind the counter.

“Alright… Let’s get it ordered then!” He bolstered, ready to reaffirm himself in the form of a fancy looking grape juice.f

#rq-s lucid dreams #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #svt mingyu x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au #just a note: i'm not sure about hwo realisticly possible the concept of the slyy drinks is #i spent some time researching it but just remeber that this isnt suposed to refelt reality 100%#aka please dont get mad at me if it's weird logistically #id also like to say that in no way shape or form are th esleepys intended to be similar to a club drug or any other type of nefarious drug #im sorry if this makes anyone uncomfortable #please bear with me as things are explained farther in futuer chapters #but rest assured that that kind fo content isnt goign to be in this story in any capacity #ANYWAY this is the first chapter!#after this we'll start getting into more fanfictiony content with the boys but there will still be a bit more explanaton of things #but this is hopefully the most heavy handed that will be #im trying to integrate it better but this was the best i could manage for this section #i hope it wasnt too confusing and if you have any questions please feel free to ask!!#thank you for reading <3

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connorgoldie604 · 3 years

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Artist Research

Tetsuo Aoki (1940 - unknown)

"The theme of my artwork is to express the pleasure, the deepness and the importance of touching each other. The original world of woodblock with Japanese paper (Washi) and Chinese ink (Sumi) is my basis."

Tetsuo Aoki – 青木鐵男 is a Japanese woodblock printmaker, who was born in 1940. He utilises wood to engrave his designs and uses a black and white colour scheme consistently throughout his prints.

His elongated, disproportional and overstretched characters immediately caught my eye and he is now one of my biggest inspirations. I love the layouts he uses and the overall distorted aesthetic of his work. Aoki’s graphic style is far from ordinary. He utilizes defined shapes and little shadowing which creates a sense of sentimentality.

Bryan Nash Gill (1961 - 2013)

"Art is (or should be) an authentic experience, which brings you closer to understanding yourself in relation to your surroundings." - Bryan Nash Gill

Bryan creates large-scale relief prints from the cross-sections of trees. It is up to us as viewers to find meaning in Bryans art. Personally, I find his art both beautiful and thought-provoking; it portrays the idea of growth and change yet makes me think about sustainability and the living things that surround us humans.

Bryan believes that the journey is more important than the destination; "Strict concentration on the making, the process, is more important than the result." His take on the process of art is almost a metaphor for all things organic - he lived in the moment and did not let his thoughts guide him.

Gill creates patterns from fallen or damaged trees which he rescues from the property surrounding his studio. He prepares blocks of recycled wood, coats it in a thin layer of ink then makes prints by carefully pressing the contours of the wood until the intricate designs transfer from tree to paper. It is important to Gill that the entire tree and all it’s intricisies is documented.

Hulya Ozdemir

“I think my paintings are timeless. My portraits do not remain imprisoned in a single statement. Their gazes are changing, just like us. One day in the same picture is sad, another day is possible to see a happy face.” - Hulya Ozdemir

Hulya Ozdemir is an illustrator and painter of watercolor portraits who was born in Istanbul, Turkey in 1972. Hulya focuses predominantly on female portraits and showcases women becoming self confident and breaking out of social norms created by a make-dominated society. Hulya does not sketch her work beforehand, she draws directly onto paper, adds patterns and then paints; “I can say, I rarely know what will happen in the next step.”

Her work displays womens beauty and individuality through the use of texture, bold colours and many patterns. Her use of colour, pattern and texture stould out to me, and I used it as inspiration for a mixed media print.

Glenn Jones

Glenn Jones found internet fame in the 2000s with his unique T-shirt designs. His tees have even be worn by stars on the Big Bang Theory. He is an illustrator who’s work is now being published as prints. Glenns collection of prints are inspired by growing up and living in NZ, he has stated that he want’s to put “my own spin on our pop culture”.

His prints are some what comedic, he depicts relatable Kiwi experiences with a humorous touch. One source states “his prints are a statement in a picture about our collective identities and the shared experiences of living in Aotearoa in the early 21st century.” His kiwiana style and clever twists with a touch of nostalgia is inspiring. I find his work both quirky and fun.

Barry Ross Smith

"I like to create a rapport with the viewer by playing with our reminiscences. Creating icons from our shared Kiwi past, the beach, the bach, the farm but mostly the people. We can identify with these characters as family, friends or someone we know." - Barry Ross Smith

Barry Ross Smith is a visual artist born in Kamo, Northland, New Zealand. When he first started producing art his medium was sign writing, and he has now been painting for over 25 years. As stated by New Zealand Fine Prints Ltd; “His work typically engages with the conception of myth and cultural identity, often exploring these avenues from a New Zealand male’s perspective.”His art is inspired by the relationship between individuals and their immediate environment, specifically our communion with the land & encompassing oceans. His work has been described as “hymns to rural New Zealand … tellingly observed and cleverly rendered” by NZ Hearld Critic TJ Mcnamara.

I admire Barry because his work showcases our beautiful land and animals. Aswell as how work, Barry inspires me as a person. He is involved with Pest free NZ; and helps restore native wildlife from extinction. He values New Zealand land not only in his work but in his day to day life, which I find extremely inspiring as I value sustainability and our saving our environment. I also find his use of surrealism and kiwiana themes interesting as it is something I want to experiment with in the future.

Tony Ogle

"Screen-printing allows me to express my love of the New Zealand landscape and ocean environment with strong colours in a direct and graphic manner".

Tony Ogle was born in 1959 and is one of New Zealand's most successful printmakers. Ogle’s prints are full of colour, vibrant and celebrates New Zealands coastal landscapes. His works are extremely technically complex and handmade, with only one edition ever produced. Ogle’s joyful prints celebrates the Kiwi beach life and showcases his authentic connection with New Zealand coastal landscapes.

He is inspired by locations off the beaten track and untouched stitches of the NZ coastlines that portray "unchanged timelessness". Tony strives to capture what he calls a "sense of place" in his art prints.

His work is inspiring since I can relate to it as a Kiwi and I admire how he uses texture to convey a sense of calmness, he perfectly captures Aotearoas essence.

Charles Frederick Goldie

Charles Frederick Goldie was born in Auckland, New Zealand, on 20 October 1870. He is an ancestor of mine, who painted Māori history paintings and portraits of tattooed chiefs. His paintings have been turned into many prints nowadays, I’ve even seen his paintings on postcards and magnets whilst travelling the South Island.

Goldie's career began in 1900 when he started painting images depicting elderly Māori with moko, the 'noble relics of a noble race'. By 1904 Goldie was considered the leading portrait painter of Māori, and was renowned for his technical brilliance. His portraits have become vitally significant to New Zealand art.

Goldie feared that Māori were about to die out or be assimilated by the pakeha so he set out to record the last survivors. This is reinforced through the poses of his elderly subjects and the titles of many of his paintings eg; Last of the Cannibals, A Noble Relic of a Noble Race. Two of his most celebrated works, Darby and Joan and The Widow, portray Goldie’s awareness of the hardships Maori were experiencing. Many Māori individuals see Goldie's works as taonga which represents irreplaceable ancestral images of koroua and kuia. Māori believe the wairua( spirit) of the subject resides in each picture.

I am inspired by Goldie not only because I feel a cultural connection to him but because of his love for Māori culture. His paintings are full of intricate details, and his paintings often look like they can breathe which I find incredible.

Lauren Liess

A crooked smile, wildflowers from the side of the road, a chip in the good china; I love it when things are slightly off and tell a story, because to me, that’s real life. And it’s beautiful.

Lauren Liess is an interior designer who’s style I find inspiring and aesthetic. What caught my eye is her use of prints and nature in her interior design. Her style is simple, relaxed and authentic. She utilizes natural materials, thoughtful art and decor that focuses on people rather than things.

She has a toes-in-the-stream aesthetic and is obsessed with the outdoors, “I’m obsessed with what’s going on outside,” and utilizes a black, white and wood pallet paired with lots of greenery, “When you bring in bits of nature …artwork, interesting accents and fabrics, [the colors are] a museum showcase for it. It’s a textural, natural base.”

I relate to her as we are both inspired by the outdoors. I also like how she incorporates living plants and wood into her modern style.

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jasminevolkan · 3 years

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TIME IN A BOTTLE — self paragraph 001,

& character development TASK #5.

warnings: abandonment issues, divorce, abuse/neglect, death and illness, mentions of christmas, food and alcohol, curse words, jasmine having courage?

JANUARY 1ST 2021, 11:27 am.

Wishes of joy, success and health ended the traditional New Year’s brunch at the Volkan’s residence. Usually, the duo would make this celebration last all day long, but Jasmine had other plans. Instead, she put the leftovers in containers and headed for the exit. She kissed her mother on both cheeks and wrapped her in a tight hug. She earned a pat on the back as a notification she was squeezing her mother’s body too tightly. “Don’t want to let you go,” Jasmine whispered those words like an automatic response. “I’m not going anywhere,” Lana would reply.

They were creature of habits, an inseparable pair. They resembled Russian nestling dolls, there was never one without the other. As years went by, Jasmine grew more and more conscious of the inevitable. She was a star following the moon in a dark night sky, but one day the moon would be swallowed in the void and leave the burning dust nothing but an endless pain, deeper than a black hole. She was no stranger to grief, it did not mean she appreciated the experience. They discussed it often, a little too often to Lana’s liking. Her daughter was so fearless, yet she feared everything in her surroundings. She wished she could fly on her own, but she respected Jas’ desire to circle close to the nest.

They were creature of habits, an inseparable pair. They gifted each other the same thing for Christmas — a holiday they celebrated by choice — however they waited for the first day of the year to open them. Chocolate, candles and promises to spend time together in the future. They made plans to build sandcastles together on a rare calm spot of the beach, where Lana claimed there was a palm tree as old as her daughter. They remembered good and bad events that came out of the previous twelve months.

Usually, they would involve unfortunate recipes or complicated art projects that never came to life. More often than not, they would share a knowing look. The worst that came out of anything was Jasmine’s father. His presence (or lack thereof) impacted them on a daily basis, still. It left a whole in their lives, otherwise complete and satisfying. It fed into Jasmine’s insecurities, it encouraged Lana to relive the constant pain she was in while trying to comfort her daughter. Children to grow old in love and affection. No matter how much love Lana provided, it never seemed to be enough for her daughter.

Love and attention were the same thing as food, for Jasmine. She always craved for more and was afraid she would never get enough.

She walked out of her childhood home and crossed the lawn over to her house. Hidden by the mass of leftovers she carried expertly, she did not notice the box that blocked the door until she bumped her foot against it. She tried to scoot around the obstacle, in vain.

The breeze blew stronger, whipping locks of chocolate brown hair on her face. It sent a wave of goosebumps down her spine. She leaned down to open the box, pulling out stuffed animals, birthday cards and other items she remembered seeing in stores but never having the courage to buy it. Expensive paint brushes and other supplies, sets of gold earrings that sparkled under the sun; the list went on. She picked up a pink bunny, it seemed old and resembled one she had in her oldest memories but could never find again.

Jasmine looked up from the objects, the bunny squeezed tightly against her chest. She frowned and looked around, her mother was not on the porch, the other neighbours were probably asleep or gone. Avalon seemed very quiet, almost surreal.

Surreal like the shadow she noticed standing at the corner of the street. Her eyes squinted and blinked, but they seemed to have washed away the familiar silhouette. Somehow, the bunny felt like it radiated a comfortable warmth. She read the message that was left on the box, the handwriting was printed in her memory.

“I love you. I am sorry it took me your whole lifetime to realize it. Signed, “

The end of the message was scribbled in a whirlwind of blue ink. She had to focus really hard to recognize the three letters. Contrary to the presents or the mysterious figure, the word resonated no familiarity.

“Dad.”

FEBRUARY 14TH 2021, 3:02 AM.

Jasmine kept this a secret, the box and the message. She tried to play it cool, like it did not affect her that her father was trying to build the bridge he destroyed when he left for New York City. She hated New York. She hated bridges. She hated him.

No.

She loved him.

She pulled out a pink gel pen from this same pencil case she carried since high school, it had little doodles and messages written at the back from her friends. She ripped a sheet away from her binder that she used for ideas at work. And she improvised. It usually felt so natural for her, to cross boundaries and to do as she pleased. This time, it was painful and almost impossible to do.

“I loved it when you took me for a drive around the island on nights where I couldn’t sleep. I loved it when you brought me to the candy store after forgetting to pick me up from daycare because you were busy. I loved it when you read stories to me during rainy days so I would be quiet and fall asleep. I loved it when you gave me seashells from all of your work trips, even if they looked identical to those on the beaches down the street. I loved it when you took me to the park and pushed me on the swings just long enough before you got a phone call. I loved it when you wrote notes in my lunch boxes on school days, I saved them all in a bottle of bourbon you left on my night stand that one time you came home as the sun was rising.

I loved it when you acted like a father, even if it was just for a split second.

I love receiving magazines and seeing your name on the front page, congratulating you for all the listings you manage to sell. I love staring at the pages of photos and noticing that I look just like you. I love thinking of new ways to improve myself, because that’s what you would have wanted to. I love thinking you might come back here one day and we can make up for all the time we wasted loathing each other. I love thinking one day we might have a family portrait identical to the one you had in your office of your wife and kids. I love thinking that one day you’ll have one of me with them and hang it on your wall at home. I love thinking that one day, I will get to call you Dad.

I forgive you. I forgive you for leaving mom alone with me. I forgive you for hurting me so much I might just never heal. I forgive you for finding your happiness elsewhere. I forgive you for failing as a father. I forgive you for learning how to do better with your other children. I forgive you for leaving the life you never wanted. I forgive you for having dreams that were larger than what we could give you. I forgive you for breaking the promises you told me of this life where we would be a happy family.

I love you,”

The old pen was running out of ink, so she shook it vividly. She did not bother wiping her tears away, not the stain of pink on her hand that was tinting the paper. She added this short word she had blocked out of her memory all this time. It was just a nickname for all, but for her. She remembered the tone of his voice whenever he said this word, it was calm and posed, loving and caring. He said it rarely, but she could still hear it so clearly.

“Jojo.”

FEBRUARY 14TH 2021, 11:58 PM.

She scrunched the sheets of paper into a ball and threw it on the floor, missing the trash can by two feet at least. She then moved to the couch, grabbing her laptop from the coffee table and logged on her email. Her fingers floated above the keyboard until the screen turned darker. She was looking up to the clock on the wall, watching the seconds fly by.

She took a deep breath, hoping it would slow down time. It had the opposite effect, feeding into this adrenaline rush she desperately tried to repress since the beginning of the year.

She loved him. She never stopped, never will. It would not change. Something needed to change, however, and it was her unhealthy habit of being silent when she needed to speak out the most.

TO: Aleksander Volkan ([email protected])

FROM: Jasmine Volkan ([email protected])

SUBJECT: Receipts and birthday cards

Fuck you. <3

Minnie pressed the button, and sent the email. She shut her laptop close and ran to the abandoned paper on the floor. She unfolded it and held against her chest, disappearing into a room in the search for an envelope.

She was too far to hear the immediate sound of a response.

TO: Jasmine

FROM: Aleksander

SUBJECT:

I love you too.

#self paras.#about.#abuse tw #abandonment tw #death tw #food tw #(( 'love letter' it's not even a letter ~ jas never follows rules that's canon ))#(( the sweater/cardigan and now the letter/email? a true REBEL ))#catalina: task #catalina: love letters #tasks.

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Thoughts : Mirror (1975)

In my circle of cinematic fiends searching for what’s on the verge of becoming Kino on a widespread level, I’ve started to see a recent resurgence and groundswell of interest of Russian film icon Andrei Tarkovsky. There has always been a deep underground love and respect for Stalker, Andrei Rublev and Solaris (not to mention his other handful of outstanding works), but recently, Mirror has started to take hold of the public consciousness. With it’s hauntingly beautiful observations and reflections on childhood, it’s easy to see why the film would be respected purely on its artistic merit, but with Criterion Collection recently joining the parade of praise, I decided it was time to give Mirror a proper viewing.

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The powerfully unironic weight of Mirror as the title for this deeply personal and reflective film is not lost on me. Tarkovsky’s approach to reimagining the inherently understood unconditional love presented by his mother from her perspective is told in a breathtakingly and achingly beautiful fashion, like the best elements of a diary and a journal mixed together in a visual fashion. The mixture of Russian history, familial reflection and poetic nostalgia intertwined into the presentation of Mirror is a powerful set of united threads that helps fortify the visual switches present, giving us a keen awareness of the distinct times we are visiting within the run of the film. Time is not only messed with on a large, cyclical scale, but it is also examined in terms of in the moment experiences, like the disjointed nature of the grenade scare or the way that Liza chasing Maria down the hall transitions between standard time and extremely expressive slow motion. Having a narrator is normally a somewhat distracting and seeming condescending element, but having a poetic and spiritual narrator that doesn’t explain to you exactly what you’re seeing works as a parallel to the visual stimulus provided in the case of Mirror.

Like many directors of the time, Tarkovsky stood as a sign of the land he emerged from, with his art being staunchly Russian in terms of the economic disparity, the looming shadow of war and the neo-realist futuristic elements present within the militaristic and Communist sentiment. Unlike his other films, however, Mirror brings a sense of multiculturalism to the table, even if only remotely, and certainly not at the expense of placing his Russian heritage in a nearly jingoistic light. The way that childhood innocence, matriarchal responsibility in light of militaristic obligation’s impact on the family and nationalist duty are all conveyed in a haunting fashion without the need to implement direct statements or rants infused with personal judgement and/or fervor. Instead, we are presented with elements that, from an outsider's perspective, allow us to understand what life behind the emergence and formation of the Iron Curtain would look and feel like.

The use of three distinct visual styles to distinguish the present, the past and the surreal without a need for title cards or basic indicators is a Tarkovsky staple, but the nuance in which it is implemented here is as bold as it is impressive, especially with such drastically different shifts in tone and acting approach occurring amidst these unmarked switches. The modern feel of Tarkovsy’s cinematography is not only a testament to the lasting impression his work has left, but taken in direct context, an equally strong testament to how forward-thinking his storytelling and visual capabilities were, putting him in league with the likes of Ingmar Bergman or Federico Fellini. I’m hard pressed to think of another director who was not only keenly aware of how environments were used, but a director who captured nature as if he cast it to do his bidding, as if he had the ability to personify the old adage “cinema is the wind in the trees” at his beck and call. The way that Mirror uses sound design in the same manner that other directors use score is a subtle flex in Tarkovsky’s ability to create immersive experiences outside of conventional methods. The few instances of score that are present are seemingly always interrupted by some brief and shocking jolt back into reality, be it violence of the reinforcement of violence as a threat. The intermixture of what seems like stock footage that separates the film into thirds gives us a sort of cinematic intermission that allows us to breathe without disconnecting from the film experience.

Margarita Terekhova is the lynchpin that holds Mirror together, and she is clearly up to the challenge, turning in a vastly dynamic performance that swings between calm controlled moments and open displays of raw emotion. Terekhova has a wonderfully magnetic ability when it becomes to displaying a character on the verge of a breakdown, putting up just enough of a tough and protective veneer to remain grounded while reinforcing the veneer with raw, uncontrolled and intuitive reactionary emotion threatening to break through and bring everything crumbling to the ground, with her ability and awareness to pull it all together coming off as admirable in terms of its sharpness. She is supported by a number of different narrative approaches, such as the direct flirtation and acute unawareness of Anatoly Solonitsyn, or the collective pressing she stands up to from Alla Demidova, Nikolai Grinko and company at the printing house. Ignat Daniltsev plays a surprisingly strong audience surrogate for such a young actor, serving not only as a human reason for the subjective gaze on Terekhova within her home, but a foil to allow her to vent deeply personal feelings, with his mostly silent reactions standing as a captivating performance in their own right. Olga Kizilova, Tamara Ogorodnikova, Yuriy Nazarov, Filipp Yankovsky, Oleg Yankovsky and Maria Vishnyakova turn in strong supporting performances while Arseny Tarkovsky and Innokenty Smoktunovsky both turn in strong vocal performances.

Mirror has a fascinating ability to be both direct and obtuse in seemingly equal measure, portraying both a deep and healthy understanding of what a mother and estranged wife would experience without assumption or presumptuousness, only a desire and need to understand in the hopes of reinforcing an already deep and inherent sense of love and admiration that comes with being a child with a creative spirit. Without even trying to or feeling like a prisoner to a limited scope, Mirror captures all of the dramatic force of a stage play and supports it with the visual power of cinematic mastery and intention. The film is not the most technically proficient in Tarkovsky’s career, but if you’re watching it and finding yourself hung up on boom mic shadows and crew reflections, then you’ve already missed the entire point. If looked at like a moving Mother’s Day gift in the form of a living and breathing painting, it is impossible not to appreciate Mirror in all of its glory.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #AndreiTarkovsky #Mirror #FilippYankovsky #IgnatDaniltsev #InnokentySmoktunovsky #MargaritaTerekhova #OlegYankovsky #AllaDemidova #AnatolySolonitsyn #NikolaiGrinko #YuriyNazarov #TamaraOgorodnikova #LarisaTarkovsky #ArsenyTarkovsky #OlgaKizilova

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spotlightauthors · 3 years

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Jess Cippian

Jess Cippian, author of the medieval fantasy series Song of Glædlond, was born and home based in West Virginia. She traveled often to Mexico as a child of eclectic gypsy-type parents. As a result Jess developed a passion for all things Old World and ethnic.

You can find Jess deep into her notebooks in the wee hours of most mornings. She spends the rest of the day with her family in their homeschool, in the garden or pouring up herbal concoctions in the kitchen. She loves to end the day sitting by the fire in her favorite reading chair.

Author Name: Jess Cippian

How long have you been writing? I've been writing on walls and notebooks ever since I learned to read. When I was six, I wrote my first book: a romance between a grasshopper and a cow. I've always kept some type of journal/writing pages, mostly as writing therapy. It's how I sort out life problems as writing helps me put things in perspective. Needless to say, I have filled quite a few notebooks. I had a homesteading/family blog for a while and loved it. I also wrote a few articles for a homesteader's magazine.

Did you ever imagine that you would be published one day? I always wanted to be an author and illustrate my books but with a large family, I just couldn't see how that could happen. Then when I discovered regular people do write and publish, I gave myself permission to give it a try.

What made you want to become an author? I have always been a writer and just thought of being an author as a daydream. To be an author meant I had to have my book in print.

How long have you been published? I fulfilled that publishing dream in November 2020.

How does it feel to be published? It is a surreal feeling to hold my book in my hand, and to be honest, very overwhelming.

Are you self-published or did you go through a publishing company? *Why? Probably because I self-published and the selling of my books is in my lap. It's all mine, and that is why I self-published, I wanted total control of my book. But there's a price to owning your content: it's up to you to distribute it! I am happy with my choice.

The other reason to self-publish is that I knew it could take two years, at best, to go the traditional route and I wanted my book in my hands before that.

How many books have you written? I have written two books, and am working on book 3 at the moment of my series the Song of Glædlond, a medieval, noblebright fantasy.

What is/are the name of your book(s)? Bloom of Beorg: A Song of Glædlond 1 and Arrow of Ebbadane: Song of Glædlond ll

What genre is it/are they in? Fantasy

What do you feel will inspire others to never forget when they read your story(ies)? I want my books to touch the heart in a meaningful way—the way old literature provoked the mind, not just for entertainment, but still a pleasurable read. Even though my current writing is fantasy I write about real things, sowing and reaping and other simple human principles; hence the term “noblebright” in my book description.

What's the hardest part about writing a book? The hardest factor in writing for me is the balance in conveying emotion. In my effort to keep my characters relatable they sometimes become too whiny or over stoic. This is where beta readers give awesome help!

What's the easiest part about writing a book? The part of writing easiest for me is world building. I am writing a story because I want to be there, and when I am there I want to have a five sense experience!

Where can interested readers purchase their copy of your book(s)? I am currently published on Amazon; I also have sales and offer signed copies on my website.

Do you have any future projects in the works? *Is there a tentative release date? The rest of my series—three more books—will be out by the end of 2022. I have many other ideas across the genres that I want to write after this fantasy series.

Do you have any social media sites that you would like to share with my readers? You can find me mostly on Instagram. I also have an author page on Facebook and I host a Facebook group as well.

#Jess Cippian #featured author #featured #spotlight author #spotlight #author

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wot-tidbits · 3 years

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Live Signing Session—Dragonmount Patreon Stream

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SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SERIES!

QUESTION:

It has been 13 years since you were selected by Harriet to finish the Wheel of Time. After 13 years have passed, like, has the shock worn off yet?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

Yes and no. There are times when I look back and I just I’m like that was really a surreal event in my life. Nothing quite can ever compare to getting a phone call being asked to finish the Wheel of Time. I look back and I’m like how did that even happen?

For those who don’t know, I didn’t apply for it. Harriet just called me and it’s really, really strange. At the same time the fact that I am a best-selling author has kind of settled in because I have to deal with it every day and I’m very used to it at this point. And so the public’s attention being on me, I have gotten used to that. The fact that I got that random phone call still is really weird when you look back at. I don’t know if you have things in your life like that, where you’re like: “Man, that really happened!” That is really strange, like winning the lottery, right? I always describe it as winning the lottery that you didn’t know you’d entered. It’s more like actually getting an inheritance you didn’t know you were getting, but someone you loved of course had to die for you to get the inheritance. So it’s still wrapped up in weird emotions for me.

QUESTION:

The way that Harriet became aware of you was because her friend Elise Matheson was printing out blog posts and other news clippings that were online where there was a news report or tribute to Robert Jordan and yours was on that list and Harriet read that and ran with it from there. So it almost seems to me that you’ve written some amazing things, but maybe that blog post might have been the most important of your career in some ways.

BRANDON SANDERSON:

The single most significant three paragraphs in my entire career are probably that little blog post. […] The weird thing is that I was late. I spent about a week thinking about, “What do I write?” and everybody had tributes come out like the day after and I didn’t jump on that. You see me posting things later when I do blog post reactions. I often am like, “I want to think about this.” And so if I hadn’t waited who knows if that would have come up in the search results. First, because it was brand new when Elise was looking for things. Who knows, if I’d waited one more day it wouldn’t have popped up? If I’d written it the week before, maybe it wouldn’t have either. That’s just one of those things, right?

QUESTION:

What would you say to 2007 Brandon?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

I have read this book where you go back in time, and it never turns out well. I would not go back in time and say anything to myself because I would end up as my own grandfather somehow. And then I would need, like, Christopher Lloyd to show up and help me fix all the problems in my life.

But if I take it non-jokingly, I don’t know. I’ve never been asked this one before. It’s usually your young writer self, what would you say? I honestly have no idea. Maybe I would say it’s gonna be alright. You’re gonna do a good job. Don’t stress this as much as you are. But maybe it’s stressing it that made me do a good job? And I haven’t stressed over a book as much as those books ever. Except maybe my very first release with Elantris. But I am not high stress person, so even that level of stress is nothing compared to what I know a lot of other people stress about.

The nice thing is that by 2007 I was confident in my writing. There were things I needed to learn. There were going to be some hard things I needed to learn and I learned them over the next five years. And it was a tough growing period of writing.

I might say take another stab at Mat once you think you got him. Listen to Jason (Denzel) when he says Mat’s off. Because you (Jason) were the first to point that out to me. I might say Padan Fain. A lot of people are going to think there needs to be a little more. Can you write like 2000 more words on the Padan Fain narrative arc for a Memory of Light? Remember to do that. Brandon, they’re gonna split into three books anyway. Stop stressing about trying to get them all into one book. They are not gonna let that happen. Tor’s not gonna throw that money away. They are going to insist on three books. So plan it that way from the beginning and maybe the timeline issues and Towers of Midnight would have been solved. I’m mostly looking at warning myself to prepare things for the future.

QUESTION:

You and I have talked about that in the past. Rand had a very climactic moment at the end of The Gathering Storm. And then you had some moments but it largely became Perrin and Mat’s book in Towers of Midnight. And then we got back to Rand again…

BRANDON SANDERSON:

I actually like that breakdown. I don’t think I’d change that. I think that Rand in Towers of Midnight being a little bit like Rand in the Dragon Reborn where you’re getting some distance from Rand, because he’s gone through a major change and you’re seeing him externally for a little while.

Actually, I think that’s a selling point of the Dragon Reborn and I like having echoed that in my three, where you know that distance [is there] and then you get back in his head and you’re like: “No, this is the Rand I still love”. This is the same person, he’s just developed. He’s changed a little bit. And that distance, that time with distance, it just gives you a different perspective on the character.

Like I said you are in Rand’s head in the Dragon Reborn, but he feels like a different character, and then we get our Rand back in book 4. I really like how Jim pulled that off. I wasn’t doing that intentionally, but in hindsight looking back, it feels like the right way to do that.

I would try to fix the timeline issues though. I did a lot of work in the Gathering Storm when it was one book to overlap Perrin’s climax and Rand’s climax at the kind of center point of the story which became the two endings of Towers of Midnight and the Gathering Storm. And because those originally had been overlapping back and forth timelines and were split into two books—which again I kind of like how it went—it was clunky since it wasn’t designed that way from the get-go.

QUESTION:

About the deleted chapters you did for the charity novels and are there anymore that might appear?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

No, the only other scene I think I’ve mentioned before; I have like that brief like two-page scene where ladies weave the bridal wreath for Rand. I’ve talked about that before. That’s the only significant chunk they got cut that’s left and it’s only like two pages. The ones were like full things, so someday we’ll find a place for that. I don’t think we have yet, but someday we’ll find a place for that, but it’s only two pages. It is real short.

Did I tell you why that got cut? I should mention it. So it was actually really cool. I wanted to get Rand engaged, have the bridal wreath and have all three of them like weave it together and kind of use some Aiel tradition there and whatnot. And it was a really great scene. I enjoyed it. Everybody liked it.

Then we put the book together. Because often I will write—when I have a large number of viewpoints, I will write a chunk of viewpoints from a character’s viewpoint, and then at the end is when I really start putting things together and then I have to smooth between these things and make sure that the pacing is right. Because you don’t want all sorts of dry scenes together. You don’t want too many action scenes together, unless it’s at the end where you do want a lot of action scenes, and you want to kind of be bouncing back and forth. There’s just a rhythm and feel to it that usually I have a pretty good instinct [for] while I’m writing knowing how they’re going to fold together.

But once in a while you get something that just sticks out like a sore thumb and this was one. Because it was opposite the Talmanes’ scenes going in Caemlyn and like dramatic scenes of people getting stabbed by myrddraal and nearly dying and all this stuff. And it was more powerful stuff. It was really nice tense stuff and then you jump back and the girls were like “Tee-hee, I am like this branch that I’m weaving into the bridal wreath. It has thorns!” And it just did not work!

I’m making it sounds sillier than it was. It wasn’t that silly, but it did not fit thematically. Harriet was like “Oh, this does not match at all.” I’m like “Yeah, you are totally right.” So we cut that one up, which made me feel sad because I did want to get them engaged. I know a lot of people have been waiting for that, but it had to go just for the strength of the opening narrative. That one’s around. It’s fun. You can imagine [it] exactly as what it is. All three go out and gather different things to put into the thing and you don’t seem them gathering, they just come together and say “Here, I brought this. It’s a good match for us because of this” and they kind of weave it all together. Maybe someday we’ll get that but there’s not a whole lot left.

Getting the Perrin through the Ways out—like, I had wanted to find a place for that for a while because I really liked that sequence. I’ve mentioned before that when I look back at it, I’m like, “it needs a lot of revision,” so I actually had to spend a lot more time revising that sequence for the charity anthology than I did the other one, which I just kind of chopped up and it was good to go. Because that had lasted all the way until the last edit, but the Perrin scenes got cut out earlier after we did a bunch of just timeline rejiggering and things like that. Harriet had not been pleased with my depiction of the Ways, and looking back—I think I mentioned this in the Forward—she was right. And that took a lot of revision to make feel right, which I wasn’t planning on spending, like I spent two weeks revising that little sequence for the charity anthology, but I wanted it to be good.

It was fun because when I sent it to Maria to look through to make sure I hadn’t broken anything too big continuity-wise even though it’s not canon, she wrote back. She’s like “This was so nice, being able to actually read Wheel of Time and edit it again.” It was like a bright spot. And that’s kind of how I had felt on it. So it was nice to work on but it was way more work than I expected. The bridal scene will not get similar treatment if we find a place for it in a future Unfettered or something like that.

QUESTION:

Aside from that do you have other scenes still remaining, deleted scenes that could potentially see the light of day?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

I don’t think there is anything else at all. I don’t think there are even any scraps or fragments. Everything that Jim wrote I put in the book in some way. There is maybe some Q&A stuff that didn’t get in the book. In one of his Q&A’s with Maria in the notes he was talking about … No, no, this wasn’t from the Q&A. It was just notes from books back that they found dug in there that they were having Rand use the Choedan Kal. Jim had in the notes Rand using the male one at the end of the series but that one was destroyed. It was the access key that was destroyed. I’m like so do we find another access key or was this just old information contradicted other things? Because this was like he was writing book eight or something, he was thinking about doing that and they found a little note file for it. They’re like maybe we use these things, maybe we find another access key or whatnot.

There is stuff like that in the notes that would be fun to release. The fans could like imagine the what if because it’s entirely possible that rather than going with the Callandor solution, Jim would have gone with the Choedan Kal that he would have decided: “No, no, the right thing to do is to find another access key” or something like that or whatnot. And then you have a different twist on the ending using that. There are things like that that could be fun to see from the notes. I don’t know how much has been dug up, how much of it Harriet put in the library.

QUESTION:

Mat and Tuon are my favorite characters. Is there anything little or unknown about them that you can share with us?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

Everything I had from Jim that was in the notes I was given—now, remember, I had people look through the notes and give me the stuff that they thought was relevant, Maria and Alan did. So there’s entirely possibly like a lot of the things that are notes that I didn’t see were drafts of appendices that Robert Jordan added things to, and then taken out from like book 7 and 6 and 8 and stuff like that. And there might be things in there.

Everything I had either was in the books—or because that last scene was written by him, the one with Mat and Tuon in the epilogue—he had done a draft on that scene so I was pointing everything toward that scene to just get it in. So that I could drop it in as close as how he’d done it as possible. The only thing that I know is that Mat does go to Seanchan and that eventually he’s found in a gutter without his hat having gambled it all away. And he’s muttering “I lost it all” or “I gambled a lot away” or something like that. That’s in the notes for the outriggers.

The notes for the outriggers are three sentences and one of them is about Mat having lost it all. We can guess he goes to Seanchan. We can guess that he ruins, messes things up and then spends several books fixing them again which is how Mat basically rolls. That would be my guess.

We can guess that Perrin has to go. We think Perrin thinks he has to go to kill Mat. We don’t know but one of those sentences is Perrin is going travelling on a boat thinking about how he’s got to go kill a friend. So there’s got to be some tensions between the continents and things like that, and I would assume that hijinks ensued, but your imagination has got to go on this one. That is literally all I know about Mat and Tuon going forward.

Fun fact is that this was somewhere in the notes but they hadn’t shown it to me, I came up with a new name for Tuon and then Maria’s like: “Oh, Jim came up with one of these” and it was two letters off. We’d both come up with the like exact same new longer name for her. And that was cool, that I had been enough on the same wavelength. And we of course used his. But that’s kind of fun because I think we were both looking at the list of Old Tongue words and found something that worked together and came together and it sounds like fortune and that’s the same direction I’d gone.

Maybe he’d written something that had told me that I should go that direction but either way, that’s a fun thing. There is a little email from Maria saying: “Hey, we should use Jim’s name for this!” And then it was almost exactly the same. I felt very cool on that day. I can’t remember what mine is because Fortuona ended up in the book but mine also started with f, o, r and then I think I had an extra syllable in there and I had Tuon in there as well but maybe my ending letters to it were different or something, I can’t remember.

QUESTION:

I know you’ve spoken a lot about that you’ve read some of these early scripts and…

BRANDON SANDERSON:

Yeah, I’ve read the first six. Still haven’t seen seven or eight.

QUESTION:

I know you’ve had a chance to talk to Rafe (Judkins). I am really curious what your take is going to be and how you’re going to be involved or how, if I can use the word “possessive” of it, that you’ll be when they hopefully get to the end of this saga. When they’re in their season seven or eight and it’s covering your books and to see how much they keep and change. And how much they’ll have to change because their previous changes will lead to, you know, have ripple effects.

BRANDON SANDERSON:

This is uncharted territory for me. And I have no idea. It could be like Game of Thrones where despite the changes they stay pretty much according to what are the big events, so what I wrote ends up there. But it could go completely different.

As I’ve said to people, I envision this as a new turning of the Wheel. It’s the same souls but in a different actual turning of the Wheel. It’s not the one that Jim and I worked on. It’s a different version of it. And so some of the same events are happening, others are different and being rearranged and so. I don’t know. Like my experience has been fantastic working with Rafe (Judkins) so far. But the sum total of my involvement is: I talked to Rafe and tell him what I felt about various scripts and things. I went on set one time and I was mostly there so they could interview me for b-roll to use in their “making of” and to actually let me meet the actors and things like that.

I am not a significant player in the series. I don’t know, maybe they will want me to be more of [one] when it gets to my books. My instincts say that I will become less and less needed. And I am not even sure how much I was needed right now because Rafe knows, has a vision, and is doing a good job with it.

I’ve been in his shoes before but it’s almost like the handoff, at least the way it’s supposed to work, between past presidents where they like leave a letter and are there for a phone call if you have a question for them, but mostly you find your own way. And that’s kind of how it is with me.

QUESTION:

Did you ask them about having a cameo?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

I didn’t ask them about having a cameo, no. Maybe eventually in my own things I want to have a cameo but in the back of my mind I was like if I do a cameo I should do it when they get to the material I wrote. That’s more appropriate and so I haven’t asked for one yet. I hope the series takes off and then they get to mine and then we stick in a Brandon cameo.

For those who haven’t heard one of the things I want to do for my books when they get made is I want to die in various different—like I show up, I’m like the Kenny from South Park of the Cosmere or whatever. In every season there’s a version of me that dies in some horrible way, you know, just like a redshirt [from Star Trek] or something like that. I think that would be a lot of fun. You need people falling off the wall, getting eaten by koloss. I’m one of those people. Stuff like that. It just feels like revenge the characters could have on me and it could be this fun little thing. Stan Lee covered the cute cameo. I could cover the gruesome death cameo role.

QUESTION:

Having been through a full three books and years of working on it, what sort of high level general advice would you offer to the people, the writers in the writing room working on the series?

BRANDON SANDERSON:

I actually talked to Rafe about some of this stuff. Number one was of course, Mat’s harder to write than he looks. I actually did say ask Jason (Denzel). Mat is harder to write than he looks.

I talked about the kind of soul of the Wheel of Time. What makes the Wheel of Time work. I remember talking to him about the interview that I heard with Jim where someone asked him summarize the Wheel of Time and he hummed and he didn’t want to do it but he eventually said what it’s like to be the normal person and be told you need to save the world. They put that burden upon you that you’ve got to save the world and you’ll probably die doing it and it’s not a burden you wanted. What do you do with that? If there’s a core theme of the Wheel of Time it is either that, or the core theme of old things become new and new things become old, used in interesting and different ways both with the characters and the world building and things like that.

I talked about some of that stuff. But really what worked for me and what anyone has to do who’s in this situation is read through the books, feel the books and then try to have that in mind when you’re working on it. Anytime I started to get lost, I just went back to the books and read what Jim had written and it pulled me back in. When I was working on—and I reread the Eye of the World when I was working on the deleted scene we talked about—it threatened to do that to me again. I was pulled in I’m like “Ooh, this and that!” and the books are just so descriptive, with lush use of language in a way that never feels like it bogs down. You just have to go to the books. He won’t do it the way I did it and that’s all right as long as he’s going to the books and he’s like feeling the soul of those books.

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Huge thank you to @highladyluck for being my editor.

#Wheel of Time #SPOILER #brandon sanderson #WoT on Prime #TV series #wheel of time tv series #WoTonPrime #Wheel of Television

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