the wood creeps

Jungkook Scenario: Moon Lily.

Request: Yeaaay requests are open! Could you write hogwarts!au jungkook fluff? <3 tq!

Harry Potter/Hogwarts AU.

Genre: Fluff.


Herbology was never jungkook’s favorite course, but for the past six months he’d gone more to the herbarium than he had gone while having classes with Miss Sprout. He smirked lightly, rushing his pace there, you were the only reason why he would so willingly spend time in that place at all.
It wasn’t odd to find you strolling around the different kinds of magic plants, going about the benefits of a certain leave and how magnificent every other flower was, so when he found you taking care of a bush of Belladonna he stayed at the door only to take his sweet time observing you.

He’d haVE to use Belladonna for his next test on potions class, and you had told him you were going to find him the best stash of seeds for him to succeed, because as always you were so ready to help out others even if they belonged to the Slytherin house, you were humble, sweet, dreamy, so you, so Hufflepuff at its best, and Jungkook, one of the proudest Slytherins out there was totally gone for you.
You sang softly to the Belladonna as if it was called the devil’s favorite plant for nothing and something in him felt warm just seeing you work on the plants.
Suddenly you turned your head startling him a little when your eyes landed on him. 

-Jungkook! You’re here-

He straightened his back and cleared his throat. -I just got here-

-And at a good time- you smiled and he did so as well in return. -I got your seeds- He arched a brow and you giggled. -For your test? Remember? You have a Potions test next week-

-Right the test- he exhaled walking closer to you. -You think with those seeds I can succeed? I don’t know anything yet-

-Jeon Jungkook- you scolded lightheartedly making him laugh. -You told you were going to put attention to potions, you have even been coming here to learn about plants to be more prepared-

Of course, Jungkook thought, he had said that to you to not make himself that obvious about him always wanting to be together. 

-You’re naturally good at this Y/N, teach me?-

You crossed your arms faking a scowl and then smiled when he didn’t stop staring. -Alright, but you should study by yourself as well- you extended the jar with the seeds which he placed in an inside pocket of his robe. 

-Thank you- he said stepping closer so he could kiss your lips, shortly but it still made you flustered. -How can I ever repay you?- he asked teasingly. -Maybe some smuggled butter beers, I know you like those-

You giggled. -I do like those, but actually…-

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A Road Paved In Gold (1/?)

Summary: In Steve’s memory, the seconds, and minutes, and  hours of that day blurred into one endless moment of aching uncertainty and bone-chilling fear, but if his calculations were correct, his watch stopped ticking at the exact moment when his plane had gone up in flames.

Steve Trevor was never meant to die in the sky above Belgium for the reasons much bigger than he could ever imagine. Therefore, he didn’t. However, surviving came with a price he didn’t ask for. The price that Diana had to pay, as well.

A/N: Okay, so…. I was playing with this idea for a while until I had no other choice but to put it into words. Not sure how long this story will be, but I have 2 chapters done and 2 more planned out, so more than 4, for now. Hopefully they’ll be a fun ride!

AO3  |  Fanfiction.net


Antiope pushed the doors to her sister’s chambers open without so much a knock and strode in, printing each step on the stone floor – a privilege very few were granted.

Hippolyta didn’t even turn around, only her shoulders stiffened slightly in acknowledgement on the intrusion as her eyes remained fixed on the fire in the hearth, the flames reflecting in her diadem and making it look like it was pulsing with light.

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You dont see what they dont show you

I know what you’re thinking.


You’re reading their writing, looking at their art, watching them dance, listening to their music, admiring their performance, watching the way their hand moves around wood, and the thought creeps into your head:


They do it so well. But whenever I do it, I mess up! I’ll never be as good as them.


But you never see what they don’t show you.

You don’t see the discarded chapters, the unused sentences, choppy metaphors and dozens of paragraphs that the author had to throw away. You don’t see the tears and the doubt and all of the coffee in their veins.

You don’t see the sketchbooks full of random lines and almost drawings, stained with ink and torn up on frustration. You dont see strained wrists and biting lips.

You don’t see the sweat. The tripping and falling and missing cues and sitting on the floor thinking how hard this will be. The timing fails and the wringing of the hands and the broken ankle on the flourish.

You don’t see the broken melodies. The voice cracks and the sore throats. You don’t see the clock hit three am as they tell themselves this will be a disaster. Everyone will hate it. You don’t see the mistaken notes on the piano and the papers and papers of unused sheet music.

You don’t see the frustration. The repeating of lines until your mouth will no longer form the words. The light cues missed, timing messed up, costumes tearing, voices cracking, cancellation always on the back burner in case someone messes up so badly that its necessary. The crying and the sore feet.

You don’t see the splinters. The sawdust in the lungs and the wood chips in the teeth. The dropped works and having to start over and cutting too much and not enough.

You don’t see the work that goes into it. You dont see the mistakes. All you see is the final product. All things take practice, and nothing is perfect from the get go.

You’re still working for it. One day you will have your final product.

3

after the laughter subsided, grayson was the first to speak. 

grayson: hey, sorry about the other night. i was just.. i was in a bad mood and i ended up taking it out on you. sorry. 

ellie: it’s ok. we all have our bad days. plus, i would be kind of mad too if i was walking peacefully in the woods and some psycho knocked me over. 

grayson: i guess so. you…uh, wanna sit somewhere and talk? i’ll admit it, sometimes these woods give me the creeps. 

ellie: yeah, sure. 

Cursed (Beauty and the Beast Jimin Au): Part 2

A/N: This is the longest thing I’ve written I think and it’s still not that long. I write such short stories XD Anyways this is part 2! Enjoy!

Part 1

Originally posted by suntaes

Summer

The season was starting quickly. Hiding in the darkness of his home, Jimin was stuck. He needed to break this curse he was stuck with but the thought of anyone seeing him made him panic. Having had moved out of his family’s home to live on his own in a new place, he took one friend, Kim Taehyung. Not only was he the only one who had seen Jimin’s new appearance but he was the only real friend Jimin had ever had.

The house he locked himself in was next to the beach because if he was going to be stuck anywhere, he would at least have a pretty view. It wasn’t an L.A. kind of beach but more of a Washington beach. It was cold and rainy but there were days when Jimin got to enjoy the sun on his face. There wasn’t another house for a couple of miles making Jimin feel safe.

Hearing Taehyung sigh from the couch, Jimin looked over his shoulder. “What?” he asked his friend, adjusting the hood that covered his head.

“I’m bored. Let’s go out,” Taehyung suggested for the fifth time that week. Rolling his eyes Jimin, ignored his friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be mingling? I mean… to break this damn curse?” Taehyung exclaimed, taking no offense to Jimin’s eye rolling.

“How am supposed to mingle with this as a face?!” Jimin yelled at his friend, tired of his constant whining.

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The month of the fires the sky was orange every day. It felt like living in the end of the world. The flames took Lanshire County and the birch wood and began to creep inexorably towards the town. One lunchtime I stood with the schoolteacher on the steps of the church and watched the smoke rise. I glanced sideways and caught his eye, and when he took my hand I understood something I had never understood before: doom brings clarity. I had never looked at him properly but suddenly I knew every inch of him, and wanted the time to know more.

That afternoon the fires found the first of the houses and licked at them like dogs, chewing away at the foundations. We fled like wild animals, desperate and panicked. In the chaos I found him, his hands burned nearly black, and I prayed for the first time in my life. Afterwards, they called it The Year of the Great Fires, and put up memorials to the people they couldn’t save. He married a girl with a smile like the sun, and tried his hardest not to look at the plaque with my name on it whenever he passed through the square.

St. Vincent interview: Annie Clark on all-female horror anthology XX, plus Danny Elfman’s dead cat

We spoke to the musician about making her directorial debut with short ‘The Birthday Party’

By Clarisse Loughrey
Thursday 4 May 2017



Annie Clark (aka St Vincent) has made her directorial debut as part of the all-female horror anthology XX. She also, as it happens, doesn’t like horror movies.

“I really can’t unsee things,” she confesses over the phone. “And if I see something particularly gory, I will obsessively play it over and over in my mind and not be able to sleep. I just sort of fixate on those things. So, I intentionally avoid things like gore and sexual violence.”

Any personal aversion Clark may harbour is untraceable in her XX contribution, however, as it sits comfortably alongside work from horror stalwarts Karyn Kusama, Jovanka Vuckovic, and Roxanne Benjamin.

Entitled The Birthday Party, her short is morbidly hilarious, following a frenetic housewife (Melanie Lynskey) as she attempts to hide her husband’s cold, departed body in fear it may ruin her young daughter’s birthday celebrations.

A piece that she wonderfully, succinctly describes as “Weekend at Bernie’s meets Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”, though it was never originally intended as such a comedic venture. Penned alongside Benjamin, her fellow XX contributor, it started off life as this “sort of dark wood mahogany, slow-creep, self-serious kind of thing”.

Halfway through, the pair realised they were actually in the midst of writing a black comedy, and an entirely new palette was born. The Birthday Party is a pristine, pastel dream, immaculate in its conception, its 1960s-flavoured wigs and dresses, its suburban mirage. Yet, something far more sinister hides within.

“Everything that you see is completely fastidious, and everything is in its right place, but you open a drawer and it’s a mess,” Clark explains. “This woman’s so focused on creating this sweet life for her daughter and, in some way, keeping up with the Joneses, that she doesn’t realise she has a Leonard Cohen rip in her robe.”

“She’s really trying to keep it together, but she’s just going to be the whipping boy,” she adds. “It’s just not going to happen for her. Melanie brings so much art and humour to it, she’s an absolute vision.”

Indeed, Lynskey’s role in The Birthday Party arrives during somewhat of a hot streak for the New Zealand actor, thanks to her riveting performance in Sundance’s Grand Jury Prize winner, I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore. Clark, however, is a long-time fan of hers.

“I thought of her for the role, but thought there was no way she would do it,“ she enthuses. “She’s truly one of my absolute favourite actors of all time. Just on a lark, I asked her, and I was thrilled when she said, ‘Of course!’ and seemed legitimately excited about it!’

That said, Clark reveals Lynskey wasn’t actually the biggest star on set. That honour, apparently, belonged to a taxidermy cat that features in the film and happens to be owned by the composer Danny Elfman, whose children are friends with Benjamin.



“The cat basically had its own trailer,” she laughs. “You know what I mean? The cat was the most important person on set, because we were under strict orders to make sure the cat was not harmed.”

XX’s core philosophy lies in the promotion of female-focused, female-crafted narratives in a genre that’s had a troubled history with women; Vuckovic and Kusama’s pieces deal with mothers coping with supernaturally difficult children, while Benjamin’s sees a group of teenagers stalked by an ancient spirit while camping out in the desert.

Though Clark’s tale is female-focused only, as she sheepishly admits, coincidentally since she’s “bad at reading all the way through e-mails”, she still has some wise words to say about the state of the industry.

“We are all one,” she says. “And there’s this incredible connection between all of humanity that is deep and that is powerful. But, some experiences are not universal. So, that’s why it’s important to have people who have lived stories telling their own stories.”

Clark conveys both a deep enthusiasm for, and literacy in, the medium of film. Yet, it’s something she confesses she approached with a level of naiveté, to the point that scoring the film felt like a jump straight back into her comfort zone.

“The process of making the film was so immersive and so all-encompassing that, when it came time to do the score, I was just, like, ‘Wow! Phew, I can do this! This is so easy!’ I did it in, like, a day,” she jokes.



“That part was just completely instinctual and, I don’t want to say I just threw it together, because that’s not the truth, but I was so relieved to be in a space that I knew what to do that I just did it really quickly.”

Clark, of course, is far more familiar to the public by her stage name St Vincent, best known for her widely-praised, Grammy-winning, self-titled fourth solo album from 2014. “Music is a way more ethereal medium,” she reflects. “As far as structure and form.’

Not that her years in the music industry proved entirely useless, as she adds: “Both mediums are deeply collaborative. I think, in so many cases, the brilliance doesn’t necessarily come from one person and their exact vision. It’s more about one person’s ability to surround themselves with the most inspired team and, also, to motivate people. And have vision enough that people want to get behind it and execute it.”

Either way, Clark confesses she’s “really caught the bug, as they say”. Already, she seems to be brewing plans for a follow-up, which she envisions as falling somewhere between black comedy, drama, and erotic thriller. The cinematic world would do best to gear up for a real treat.

‘XX’ will be released on DVD on 8 May

[ Source ]

I think I might have an idea for a book.

A book about a garden. A book about a girl learning magic alone in the woods. A book about creeping vines, a wall of mirrors, shelves of glass bottles. A book about loneliness. 

A bit of a spoiler for end game.


I love Breath of the Wild with all my heart. But my biggest disappointment was the Green tunic version the game had.Very underwhelming and disconnected from the theme of the game….
So like all good and reasonable people who have a creative skill, I made my own.
And the thought process of many failed attempts
The final is at the far right

I thought it would have been cool if the hero’s green clothes had gotten worn and torn over the years as nature covered Hyrule, so too Nature would cover the clothes in representation.

Torn cloth with moss covering it and other grass stains. Petrified wood for armor, vines creeping around it. Link’s hair loose and messy. The dark green to show just how much the hero had become a part of the wild that is now Hyrule.
Oh well… I can dream.

St Vincent interview: Annie Clark on all-female horror anthology XX, plus Danny Elfman's dead cat

Annie Clark (aka St Vincent) has made her directorial debut as part of the all-female horror anthology XX. She also, as it happens, doesn’t like horror movies.

“I really can’t unsee things,” she confesses over the phone. “And if I see something particularly gory, I will obsessively play it over and over in my mind and not be able to sleep. I just sort of fixate on those things. So, I intentionally avoid things like gore and sexual violence.”

Any personal aversion Clark may harbour is untraceable in her XX contribution, however, as it sits comfortably alongside work from horror stalwarts Karyn Kusama, Jovanka Vuckovic, and Roxanne Benjamin.

Entitled The Birthday Party, her short is morbidly hilarious, following a frenetic housewife (Melanie Lynskey) as she attempts to hide her husband’s cold, departed body in fear it may ruin her young daughter’s birthday celebrations.

A piece that she wonderfully, succinctly describes as “Weekend at Bernie’s meets Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”, though it was never originally intended as such a comedic venture. Penned alongside Benjamin, her fellow XX contributor, it started off life as this “sort of dark wood mahogany, slow-creep, self-serious kind of thing”.

Halfway through, the pair realised they were actually in the midst of writing a black comedy, and an entirely new palette was born. The Birthday Party is a pristine, pastel dream, immaculate in its conception, its 1960s-flavoured wigs and dresses, its suburban mirage. Yet, something far more sinister hides within.

“Everything that you see is completely fastidious, and everything is in its right place, but you open a drawer and it’s a mess,” Clark explains. “This woman’s so focused on creating this sweet life for her daughter and, in some way, keeping up with the Joneses, that she doesn’t realise she has a Leonard Cohen rip in her robe.”

“She’s really trying to keep it together, but she’s just going to be the whipping boy,” she adds. “It’s just not going to happen for her. Melanie brings so much art and humour to it, she’s an absolute vision.”

Indeed, Lynskey’s role in The Birthday Party arrives during somewhat of a hot streak for the New Zealand actor, thanks to her riveting performance in Sundance’s Grand Jury Prize winner, I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore. Clark, however, is a long-time fan of hers.

“I thought of her for the role, but thought there was no way she would do it,“ she enthuses. "She’s truly one of my absolute favourite actors of all time. Just on a lark, I asked her, and I was thrilled when she said, ‘Of course!’ and seemed legitimately excited about it!’

That said, Clark reveals Lynskey wasn’t actually the biggest star on set. That honour, apparently, belonged to a taxidermy cat that features in the film and happens to be owned by the composer Danny Elfman, whose children are friends with Benjamin.

“The cat basically had its own trailer,” she laughs. “You know what I mean? The cat was the most important person on set, because we were under strict orders to make sure the cat was not harmed.”

XX’s core philosophy lies in the promotion of female-focused, female-crafted narratives in a genre that’s had a troubled history with women; Vuckovic and Kusama’s pieces deal with mothers coping with supernaturally difficult children, while Benjamin’s sees a group of teenagers stalked by an ancient spirit while camping out in the desert.

Though Clark’s tale is female-focused only, as she sheepishly admits, coincidentally since she’s “bad at reading all the way through e-mails”, she still has some wise words to say about the state of the industry.

“We are all one,” she says. “And there’s this incredible connection between all of humanity that is deep and that is powerful. But, some experiences are not universal. So, that’s why it’s important to have people who have lived stories telling their own stories.”

Clark conveys both a deep enthusiasm for, and literacy in, the medium of film. Yet, it’s something she confesses she approached with a level of naiveté, to the point that scoring the film felt like a jump straight back into her comfort zone.

“The process of making the film was so immersive and so all-encompassing that, when it came time to do the score, I was just, like, ‘Wow! Phew, I can do this! This is so easy!’ I did it in, like, a day,” she jokes.

“That part was just completely instinctual and, I don’t want to say I just threw it together, because that’s not the truth, but I was so relieved to be in a space that I knew what to do that I just did it really quickly.”

Clark, of course, is far more familiar to the public by her stage name St Vincent, best known for her widely-praised, Grammy-winning, self-titled fourth solo album from 2014. “Music is a way more ethereal medium,” she reflects. “As far as structure and form.’

Not that her years in the music industry proved entirely useless, as she adds: “Both mediums are deeply collaborative. I think, in so many cases, the brilliance doesn’t necessarily come from one person and their exact vision. It’s more about one person’s ability to surround themselves with the most inspired team and, also, to motivate people. And have vision enough that people want to get behind it and execute it.”

Either way, Clark confesses she’s “really caught the bug, as they say”. Already, she seems to be brewing plans for a follow-up, which she envisions as falling somewhere between black comedy, drama, and erotic thriller. The cinematic world would do best to gear up for a real treat.

‘XX’ will be released on DVD on 8 May

anonymous asked:

I just read Amber Tamblyn's open letter to that creep James Woods and wow she is such an eloquent writer and she spoke so much truth about how we as a culture are trained to always not believe women and believe the man is a victim it's a real societal problem that needed to be addressed and I'm glad she did

Before I start….I just want to encourage everybody to read this. Read it. memorize it. Think about the women in your life and the experiences they might have had but might have been too afraid to be open about. Think about your own experiences if you can do so without triggering or harming yourself. 

TeenVogue open letter
NYT Op-Ed 

There is one very specific part I want to talk about:

You tried to make it sound innocent. This is something predatory men like to do, I’ve noticed. Make it sound innocent. Just a dollop of insinuation. Just a hair of persuasion. Just a pinch of suggestion. [TeenVogue]

This is such an incredibly important statement to make. And unfortunately, it’s also incredibly accurate. The vast majority of predatory men are experienced in this thing they consider a game. They know the drill. You could easily call them professionals in their field. They know that a 50 year old man coming on to a 16 year old could be intimidating or scary or weird. So they douse their words with sweetness and innocence and kindness. Many of them, if you say no or walk away, will go on their merry way because i they get rough or angry, if they yell, it attracts attention to themselves. It takes away from their defence. It makes them get caught. This is not to say that all predatory men are as calm, calculated, and collected, but many who have been preying on women for decades are, especially those who prey on underage girls or teenagers.

Every day, women across the country consider the risks. That is our day job and our night shift. We have a diploma in risk consideration. Consider that skirt. Consider that dark alley. Consider questioning your boss. Consider what your daughter will think of you. Consider what your mother will think of what your daughter will think of you. Consider how it will be twisted and used against you in a court of law. Consider whether you did, perhaps, really ask for it. Consider your weight. Consider dieting. Consider agelessness. Consider silence. [NYT]

I don’t have anything to add to this but I wanted to put it here because I want people to read it. I know that a large part of my following are probably women/woman aligned, and that means a lot of you already know this, already experience this. But my hope is that people will consider this if they haven’t already. This is the life of a woman in 2017. Considering. Our every move. How it might look if, heaven forbid, something happened to us. There’s thought behind every wardrobe change, behind every make-up application, behind every drink, behind every. single. action. 

The women I know, myself included, are done, though, playing the credentials game. We are learning that the more we open our mouths, the more we become a choir. And the more we are a choir, the more the tune is forced to change. [NYT]

And finally, this. It’s time to sing at the top of your lungs. Because when I confided in my psychiatrist that I had been victim of some predatory men when I was a child, he said, word for word, “have you always had an active imagination?”. And he said that as a 9 year old, I had responsibility in my story, and that I must have been precocious for my age. This wasn’t a friend. A stranger. Family members. Some random man on the street. It was a licensed, practicing psychiatrist. Nobody who speaks up should ever have the fear of not being believed, especially by people in authority. 

It has to stop. 

Adventures of Bree & Alex - Part 5

Bree was still shaking from her near-rape, although she was attempting to put a brave face on for Alex. She knew he was even more traumatized. He killed someone for her…


She needed to keep him talking. Keep his mind off of it.


“So, once we make it to Inverness, I think we should stop somewhere for food. You know, before we get the horses. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a hot meal?”


“Yeah I guess so.”


“What do you think the food is like?”


“Gross.”


“Oh c’mon I bet it isn’t that bad!”


No response. Bree could tell Alex’s mind wasn’t on the food. It was on a dangerous circular path, picking up speed with each lap…until it lost control and crashed. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t.


“Alex. Please talk to me. What happened back there…you were protecting me. You did what you needed to save me.”


“I don’t want to talk about it Bree.”


“But Alex– ”


“But nothing Bree. I’m not upset I shot him. He was a bloody shitface and deserved it.”


“Then what is it? I can tell something is going on.”


Alex stopped walking and glanced down at his feet. He was obviously struggling to find the words. Without making eye contact with Bree, he mumbled under his breath, “Mama.”


“Mama?” Bree questioned, looking around expecting to see her standing next to them.


“She’s not here Bree. Obviously you dimwit. It’s just that, we were here less than ten minutes and someone tried to…tried to force themselves on you and held a knife to your throat. Mama was here for three years. I don’t know how she survived. There’s so much we don’t know.”


Oh. Bree wasn’t expecting to hear that. She hadn’t thought about it like that before. Did someone ever try to rape their mother? Surely their father was there to protect her.


“You’re right. There’s so much we don’t know about this time. What the people are like or the culture. But we have each other, and soon we’ll have our father. He’ll protect us and keep us safe. And we can learn. We just have to play it safe til then.”


Alex half-smiled at his sister and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Thank you. Let’s keep moving. It’s getting dark and these woods are creeping me out.”


—–


Once arriving to Inverness, it was a lot more expensive to buy two horses than the twins were expecting it to be. Luckily, they ran into a kind gentleman on the street, a Mr. Gowan. He was a short, scholarly looking man. He informed them of a carriage that was set to leave shortly, heading to Edinburgh.


This was far more affordable, and to the twins, a great deal safer to be traveling with a group.


By the end of the three day journey to Edinburgh, due to delays from heavy rain, Bree had reached her wits end and Alex had grown tired of apologizing for his sister’s outbursts.


Once they stepped out onto the streets of Edinburgh though, a wave of anxiousness rolled over them. This was it. They were finally going to meet their father.


Bree looked over at her brother, and then back to the road in front of her, ready to meet their father. Yet her feet didn’t move. She was the bold one. The one who would always volunteer first, but right now she was stuck.


Alex, sensing the reservation in his sister, asked, “What is it Bree?”


“I’m…I’m scared. What if he isn’t here? Or what if he’s this really awful person and doesn’t want anything to do with us?”


Alex reached down and grabbed his sister’s hands within his. “He’s going to love you Bree. And even if he’s a psycho maniac and doesn’t want anything to do with us, it won’t matter because we will always have each other.”


And with that, Alex pulled his sister forward, down the path of their history, towards their future.



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