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violettduchess · 5 months

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aaa Violet, massive congratulations on 1k followers, you deserve it so much!! your writing always inspires me to improve, especially as a future english teacher! 🫶🏻 i’d love to request prompt 12 with Keith from IkePri, preferably both Keiths if that’s possible 💚🦌

A/N: I am almost at another milestone so I should continue with some of these too!

I hope you like it @mrlovesimps 💜 I tried something a bit different: the same scene, but how it would play out with each Keith

First Kiss Prompt #12: Gentle, then deeper

WC: 1.5k

“Gentle Keith”

You are the one who crosses the line of uncertainty first. It’s impossible to not touch him, sitting so close the way you are, the soft, cool grass of the lake embankment beneath you, moonlight trailing its silvery fingers over the dark, still water. Above you, the trees reach for the starlit sky, their leaves whispering to each other in the soft breeze, almost as if they are watching the two of you, sighing at the blatant yearning that ties your heartstrings together.

He is shy, his gaze focused on the shimmering water, so very intently not looking at you, not willing to take the chance that his expression may give away the volcanic desire that threatens to erupt when he catches your scent, lavender and roses, when he sees your beautiful lips curve upwards in a smile meant only for him. It brings a wash of heat to his cheeks if he holds your gaze for too long, when he allows his thoughts to wander….what would it feel like to run his palms over the soft skin of your waist, to wind his fingers around a lock of your hair, to press his cheek against the swell of–

And then he catches himself and bites his lip, his head shaking ever so slightly.

This is what moves you, the sight of his lip between his teeth, the stiffness of his shoulders, the slope of them as they angle away from you. You’re tired of fighting this and now, in a setting that practically screams romance, you want to let him know that the longing in his golden eyes is reciprocated.

You reach out, gently but firmly cupping his chin and turn him towards you. Your hand stays there, thumb stroking the line of cheekbone as he looks almost startled, his brow furrowing in something like disbelief with a shade of confusion.

He starts to say your name and you lean in, stopping any other words that are queued for release by pressing your lips against his. Oh, kissing him is so much more than the way you imagined it would be. His mouth feels like it was made to fit against yours, his lips firm and cool and perfect. For a moment, just a few seconds, as the evening breeze serenades you both with the rustle of leaves and gentle lapping of the lake, neither of you moves. You simply revel in this feeling, this new way of connecting, of touching, of giving the feelings that have been growing in your hearts a chance to slowly open their petals and blossom.

And then he shifts, his large hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he breaks contact only to immediately kiss you again. Emotion flutters through you as he does this over and over. Short, gentle, achingly sweet kisses that feel better than a fire’s warmth on a cool night, better than rose liquor, better than melted chocolate. Your hands land on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself as you sigh his name, your voice wavering with eagerness, with satisfaction.

His breathing is becoming ragged. He wants….so much. It overwhelms him, how much he wants you, wants this moment to be the first of a thousand similar moments that stretch out into eternity. He pulls away, just a little, his chin dropping, eyes closed against the hurricane circling its way around his restraint. Your fingers press into him and you whisper his name again. That one syllable, that word in your voice, crossing the lips he has just been tasting, bright with unmistakable desire.

You can almost hear the thundering of his heart, the waterfall rush of emotion churning through him. You murmur his name again, afraid he may be closing himself off from this, from you. But then slowly, his eyes open and he raises his head. It’s still him. He is still with you.

His body shifts as he straightens his long torso to look down at you, golden eyes now alight with desire. And he is no longer afraid of the blaze.

“Keith,” you murmur, reaching out to run the back of your fingers down his cheek. He doesn’t respond with words but with action, his smile warm as he reaches for you and you yield, bending into the strength of his arms, the press of his body as he kisses you.

He begins as gently as before, his lips against yours even as he moves with you, laying you back onto the cool grass, stretching himself over you, like shelter. And then his lips part and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, your whole world shrunk down to this man, the taste of him, the feel of him. There is nothing but Keith and this perfect, luminous moment.

“Dark Keith”

He is the one who crosses the line of uncertainty first. It’s impossible to not touch you, sitting so close to you the way he is, the night-dark grass of the embankment beneath you, moonlight spilling across the dark, still water of the lake. Above you, the trees hold out their spindly branches toward a sky littered with cold, diamond-edged stars. They seem to shy away from the intense waves of want and hunger radiating from his powerful body.

He wants you, his gaze so very intently drinking you in, dragging across the exposed skin of your neck, the enticing drop of your neckline, not at all bothering to hide the volcanic desire that threatens to erupt every time he catches your scent, lavender and roses, when he sees your delicious lips curve upwards in a smile that he wants only for himself. It brings a wash of heat to your cheeks if he holds your gaze for too long, when what he wants is so plainly written across the devastatingly handsome planes of his face….he wants to hold you by gripping the soft curve of your hip, to trap a lock of hair around his fingers, to sink his teeth into the swell of your–

You catch your breath at the sight of his bright eyes burning into you and unconsciously, you bite your lip.

This is what moves him, the sight of your tempting lip between your white teeth, the drop of your shoulders, the slope of them as they angle towards him. He is tired of fighting this and now, in a setting that practically screams privacy, he wants to know for sure that his longing is reciprocated.

He reaches out, gently but firmly cupping your chin and turning you towards him. His hand stays there, thumb stroking over the softness of your cheek as you stare at him, lips parted, your rapid heartbeat causing your breathing to be shallow and airy.

You begin to say his name and he leans in, stopping any other words that are queued for release by pressing his lips against yours. Oh, kissing you is so much more than what he has been imagining. Your mouth feels like it was made just for him, your lips soft and sweet and perfect. For a moment, just a few seconds, as the evening breeze shakes the tree branches and the lake undulates in response, neither of you moves. You simply revel in this feeling, this new way of connecting, of touching, of giving the desire that has been warming your veins and consuming your dreams a chance to slowly burn its way through you..

And then he shifts, his large hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he breaks contact only to immediately kiss you again. Emotion courses through you as he does this over and over, hungry, greedy kisses that turn your blood to lava, that have your heartbeat boom like thunder as it rolls across a stormy sky, that have you dizzy with need. Your hands land on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself as you gasp his name, your voice breaking with eagerness, with want.

His breathing is becoming ragged. He wants….so much. It overwhelms him, how much he wants you, wants this moment to be the first spark preceding a roaring bonfire. He moves closer, his chin dropping as he buries his face into the curve of your neck, eyes closed as he revels in the powerful hurricane of his need for you. Your fingers press into him and you sigh his name again. That one syllable, that word in your voice, crossing the lips he has just been tasting, bright with unmistakable desire.

He can feel the roar of your heart under his tongue, the waterfall rush of emotion churning through you. Yet again you pant his name. And then slowly, his eyes open and he raises his head. He is going to devour you and you welcome it.

His body shifts as he straightens his long torso to look down at you, his hands already running down your sides possessively, impatiently.

You bend into the strength of his arms, the press of his body as he kisses you, laying you back onto the cool grass, stretching himself over you. And then his lips part and you groan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, your whole world shrunk down to this man, the taste of him, the feel of him. There is nothing but Keith and this perfect, unbridled moment.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @drewadoodle-dandy @keithsandwich

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri keith #keith howell #ikemen keith #1k first kiss celebration #keith x reader #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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imperiuswrecked · 6 months

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Poems of Palestine

There is a Holocaust in the Holy Land. I see it on my screen. A grandfather cries, Maryam is gone, Maryam is gone. She is small in the cradle of her family's arms. Her mother begs for the hair tie she had worn. There is a Holocaust in the Holy Land. And all I can do is scream. And scream. And scream.

One day I will walk from Ramallah. One day my friend will walk from Gaza. We will meet in the middle. I will tell her of my olive trees. Of the birds who sing. She will tell me of her sea. Of the fish it brings.

And how many times can a heart break, they ask. As many times as it beats. And a thousand times beyond that.

Remember the Crocodile. The time of my parents, my grandparents, and those before. They killed the Crocodile.

Remember the Fox. My time. The time of war. They have cut our numbers down, but we were never just numbers. The Fox will endure.

Remember the Sunbird. This will be the time of our children. This will be the days not yet born. This will be the hope, That keeps the Fox warm.

The Gaza night sky is painted with a blood red hue. The cry rings out “O God, we only have you, oh God!” Cut off from the world. They cut my heart. I hear it in my dreams, And waking moments too.

The Olive Trees are watered with the blood of Palestinians. They will bear witness long after the blood has dried.

I write as a way to express my emotions. I've witnessed so much these last few months and poetry is something that I am deeply connected with. I share some of my works on the day of the world strike for Palestine and hope that the future of a free Palestine will happen in my lifetime.

Holocaust in the Holy Land refers to one of the victims of the Israeli genocide. I watched a video of a family, and it broke me terribly inside. I cried for days. The young girl was being held by her family and her mother begs to have her hair tie to remember her by. Someone, whom I assumed to be her grandfather, was crying that Maryam is gone, in Arabic. It made me think of the Mary that the whole world knows, and how thousands of years later her namesake is being killed by the Zionist colonizers.

I have a friend in Gaza, as of writing this post she is still alive but we have only had a few messages of contact for the last couple of months due to the Israeli Occupation cutting off the internet. I worry for her constantly in my day to day life and I check the list of the martyred to make sure her name isn't on there. I worry that one day she will be but I hope that she isn't.

The Palestinian Crocodile went extinct in 1935 during the British Mandate. The Palestinian Fox is rare and in the recent Israeli Genocide the ones in the Gaza zoo were killed due to the Occupation's bombardment causing the caretakers to be unable to care for them. The Palestinian Sunbird is the national bird of Palestine, whom the Israeli Occupation tried to stop from becoming a symbol for Palestine.

Crocodylus Niloticus - Palestinian Crocodile

Article link

Vulpes Vulpes Palaestina - Palestinian Red Fox

Cinnyris Osea - Palestinian Sunbird

#poetry #poems #palestine #my poetry #tw: genocide #tw: child death

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doctor-hopper · 12 days

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It always started the same. The dilapidated shrine walls began to shimmer as if by a warmthless heat-haze, and suddenly Kamukura was standing at the wooded edge of a garden instead: mossy statues at the gate, clay tiles dappled with smoky-hued petals, trees whose branches seemed to start and stop wherever they pleased, alien constellations in a black sky peering through the gaps the branches left. Outside it was midwinter, but the breeze here smelled of springtime and decay. Each time Kamukura came here they tried to focus their Analysis on some particular smell or sound, trace it back to some too-young origin and expose the irrational illusion of it all. But the threads never frayed as expected; they stretched back in perfect contiguous causality. It was as if the garden had always been here.

A limbic prickle, at that. Still interesting. (And something weary whispered, For now.)

Up ahead, in the heart of the garden, was a lone sunflower. Taller than last time. Not yet in bloom. But now the wind was teasing its leaves, and with it came a voice, if you could call it that, airy and lively and seeping in from all around.

“. . .And he did get away with it at first, and I was so proud to hear he’d managed to make anything of my counsel. He was so afraid, you know. Especially of me! But you do know fear is so often an impetus for hope. . .” They approached slowly, seemingly unnoticed on light feet, as the voice moved to the fountain and the fountain babbled on. “And yet right on the way home the car exploded, and he died on the highway. Unbelievable, don’t you think so? I never did get to find out what happened to his poor old mother.”

It was a story they had heard before. Pored over, cross-referenced. The entity liked to tell them stories when they came, stories of mortals from long ago—in a stirring of leaves here, a rush of water there, now the creeping of an ant’s legs. In binaries and balances. It liked to make others view the world as it did, as an interconnected machine, every motion an omen of future chaos to shape, or sway with, or become. It was a desperately apophenic lens, the kind born of loneliness dripping down countless human lifetimes and growing more bleak and pungent with each. Kamukura generally felt they had made contact with something too pathetic to call a deity.

“His soul’s actually planted right here, next to yours,” the being said with a spider creeping up the sunflower’s stalk, in lilting lonely reminiscence. “Ah, when he was alive and in full bloom, you should’ve seen him! A tall canola flower from the fields of Nyuta, it must’ve been, earthy and vibrant, just as golden as you’ll be. . .”

The spider may have approximated a dry laugh. Only the barest hint of the canola could still be seen, a withered stem, the flaky gold-dust of dead petals.

(The way the presence spoke of legend and struggle never enticed Kamukura, but the fact every mortal it met was doomed never bothered them, either.)

Sensing a trailing-off, Kamukura finally chose to step forward into the clearing and say, by way of greeting, “You talk to the flowers.”

And with that, an immensely singular focus turned onto Kamukura—like the water and wind stilled to welcome them, like the absence in the air caressed their skin. A disturbance of Kelvin-Helmholtz swirls drawn in negative space. They recognized each other.

“. . .Ah, hello!” it said in a voice just a little more located, a little more aware. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you right away, how uncouth of me! I often don’t know I’m doing it, to be honest. But you know the thing about flowers, they don’t actually understand a word you say. . .and it was all reruns, don’t worry. You’re not missing any crucial points of data. . .and besides, no matter the story I tell, you know how it’ll end by now, right?”

“Hello,” Kamukura said. “I was not worried.”

The anxious breeze relaxed back as it deposited dandelion seeds in their hair. It made them linger for a moment, in the warm wind and the starlight and the distortion they would eventually chart and understand but still did not.

Then, reopening their eyes, they said, “Go on.”

Stars like eyes blinked and rippled. A blue morpho flapped its wings in momentary confusion.

Perhaps that came off too terse, vague. They lay down on the cool clay tiles, looked heavenward, and clarified: “You can go on, if you would like. You may continue the story.”

The vacuum was slow to respond, but then it sprawled and happily continued on, for when you welcomed it to speak it seldom stopped—the terrible fates of its past charges, the observations of millennia. And Kamukura closed their eyes, felt the stones’ embrace, the petals beneath. As they listened their own human form began to melt a little too, shift into something more comfortable.

“It’s lucky my sunflower sprung up when it did,” the falling petals said at one point as Kamukura was curling up and becoming something fluid and feline and many-limbed. “Sunflowers are hardy and beautiful, but their long roots mean they need a lot of room or they won’t turn out quite right. . .”

It was hardly a voice anymore. “. . .I do hope all this empty, fertile soil I’ve got means it’ll stay alive for a while.”

But then the words soon softened and melted out of perception completely, and instead became a voiceless buzzing in the bones, spiriting away all the mirage-matter around them into bending light. When Kamukura was there, it seemed just as happy to be with them in silence.

#the eldritch komaeda thing #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #kamukoma #text #komaeda lore #my fic

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izbelross · 2 years

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Por la vida que soy libre

Chapter: Prologue

Total chapters: 10

Pairing: Matt Murdock x black widow! reader x Frank Castle soulmate au!

A/N: ¡Hola, Isabel aquí! I finally got the ovaries to actually write something and not only that but post it :D I really hope you enjoy this and that at least I don't unalive myself under the pressure of wanting to keep writing, I will love to know what you think tho and English is not my first language so please excuse the mistakes I could have made.

This work will be a multichapter one. It wont be longer than 10 chapters. I hope.

Warnings: angst ( i think all of my works have angst fuck) / fluff and fluff / enemies to friends to lovers (kinda) / violence, torture ( not that graphic) / character death / happy ending / drama

Summary: everyone is born with a soulmate (a/n: wouldn't that be mental?) Soulmates can hear their thoughts since childhood, some others up until they're older. This connection only becomes stable when soulmates meet, but as it can be nourished to bloom into something solid it can also be stopped. Soulmates come with a free choice, you don't die without them, you can learn to live with the one of your choice, free will no matter what. Although those who chose their destined ones can coincide in one thing: "You could never regret it".

But when you are raised like a puppet of violence, your free will in every aspect of your life seems to have never existed. Along with your chance of meeting the ones destined for you.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·

When you were little, you remembered every time your mom and dad will cackle out of nowhere or share secret looks when you where excited. Sometimes they would stare at each other with a certain glint right before they attacked you with kisses or loving hugs.

They had a connection you could almost touch if you but tried to reach it and it was so, so magical to witness.

As a five year old it was your first contact with the "weird" things of this planet. Your mom told you about this magic, with the simplicity of those who have time to explain it in the years to come and along your dad, they really thought they had enough time to tell you all about soulmates.

Turns out the clock was already ticking against them.

It happened at your childhood during a Christmas morning. The tree was incredible big for your little stature and the fairy lights that were around your living room made it seem like you where in a kingdom of princesses and knights in golden armour.

The king and the queen were watching you, their little princess, swelling of childlike happiness with every present you opened.

At the fourth discarded wrapping the lights of your home went out, making you cry and your mom to pick you up while your father made the first mistake of the night. He opened the curtain just to take a little peek. What you remember after that where just glimpses of what could have been or could have not.

Glass shattering, your mom screaming, white blinding lights, one more enraged scream and then... then nothing.

When you woke up you where surrounded by other girls, some a little older than you.

You cried, cried so hard until your throat was raw and this time there where no warm arms to pick you up or soft voices with loving looks. You were alone and confused and so tired.

Without your parents suspecting it your future was settled and every thought of a soulmate wouldn't be touched up until you arrived at your new jail. And even then, there was no much to hope from it.

/////////////uwu///////////

With the passing years and as you became a Widow you tried to find yourself in the middle of women who were trained for the same as you: lying, killing, surviving. Hating.

You didn't let your ward down during the missions and the only kind of friendship you knew was the weird interactions you had with Natasha and Yelena –who seemed to sometimes hate their guts out– you could catalogue them as family and as the only ones who shared their memories with you and you with them. So, you decided that, yes, you could do it, you could trust them.

First it was Nat, the oldest of the three. She told you about a woman's voice speaking in her mind. At the beginning she thought was going crazy. Nat didn't even know if she should trust her or not and decided to confide in you.

This voice belonged to a beautiful name. "You don't get it dipshits, her voice is so soothing and calm and oh, so relaxing, she appeases me and is so gentle and lulling" she told you, Yelena and you shared a look. "You just said the same thing six times Natalia" when she didn't reply to the absurd name you always called her when she was being a pain in the ass, Yelena and you knew that Yes, indeed, she is fucked.

At first, this voice thought that Nat was joking with her when she told her that she never heard such a thing as a soulmate before. To say that the girls voice was confused and hurt was an understatement, but she was patient and alongside her — even though was harder— Natasha learned from her too.

You and Yelena really thought that Nat was going crazy.

"I tell you Romanoff, every day you worry me a little more." You said, teasing and concern stressing in your voice. "First it was you blaming me for your lost set of pocket knives from El Cairo and now this... how did you described it? Honey like, softly woman voice?"

"Do not forget the "Heavenly and sexy like" Yelena joined your teasing.

Even if you two enjoyed the talks, something that was the only normality you ever lived, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was indeed not normal for someone to hear out of the blue a voice.

"Perhaps, she is starting to develop the first symptoms." Natasha looked at both of you unamused. She let you two talk and bicker, she knew by experience that with her talking it would only get worse.

"Ah, yes. A very sad illness if may I say so, many people in here seem to have it." you added, Yelena send you a very much sad puppy eyes kinda look.

"You two are insufferable." the red head said while rolling her eyes and getting ready for the last chores of the day: moping the bathroom floor.

"When are you gonna tell the Master about it anyways?" asked Yelena while trying to squish the mop with her bare hands.

It was a simple question. Every decision you all made, without doubt, had to be supervised by the Master of the place. Your mentor. It was a conditioned thinking that you all learned since childhood and now even now almost in adulthood you had to make sure to let her know every little aspect. The Master had a schedule for your health status: the food you ate, the time of training, sleeping, practice, hell even the period and bath. You all learned that it really wasn't necessary to let your Master know when and where, but you had to if you didn't want to get punished for your lack of communication.

That's why even if you all had to obey and inform everything Natasha felt, this was hers, it was her voice, it was her friend. Her soulmate. No one in the jail seem to know about soulmates, not Yelena or you, not her other fellow widows. And Natasha wanted to keep it that way.

"I will not."

The conversation died there and for at least two weeks Nat kept talking with her soulmate and she told you and Yelena that it was warmer inside her, in her chest, that her mind wasn't clouded as before. And it was beautiful, a beautiful sight seeing Nat brighten after a tough mission.

You and your blonde sister agreed that whatever kind of madness was in Nat's head it was a beautiful sight to witness.

The third month though, everything went to shit. Natasha was going to have her birthday, and like every year, with every birthday between you three, you managed to get new weaponry for each other. Something that had relevance from your missions. Nat was supposedly turning seventeen, a year away from the graduation and she was scared. You all were.

As you were changing in your room from your last mission –with Nat's birthday present hidden in your stuff– Yelena burst in the four simple walls that was your bedroom, door slamming so hard against the grey concrete that it almost tore apart the door handle. You were about to scream some obscenity to her but the terrified look on her eyes stopped you.

"Natasha is on the med bay." That was enough for you two to run directly to see her. Your own tiredness didn't matter as well as your injuries, all of it was now in second place.

As you approached, the screams and pledges of Natasha promising, no, swearing death to all those who dare touch her became more and more loud.

"Romanoff!" If Nat was enraged, she became livid at the sight of Yelena bursting into the room only to be stopped by electro shocks directly on her head.

"Let her fucking go!" you got into action before Yelena's unconscious body touched the ground and managed to knock at least three of the massive guards that were trying to retain you and take Yelena.

The room became chaos between Natasha screams and your grunts of pain with every punch that got to you. But the fight was lost when a lighting pierced your skull and your body was immobilised as well.

They managed to tie Nat and they hoisted your body to a table seemingly like you sister's.

"The soulmates are something dangerous that cannot be taken to consideration." Your Master spoke. From you peripheral Nat was struggling against the restraints, but the sedative they gave her was already making effect. "You are made for the greatness of our nation and nothing more. You belong to us. Your mind. Your thoughts. Your emotions. Your death."

Your clothes were discarded and substituted by a hospital gown. The cold warmed your bones and drops of sweat formed in your forehead. She knows about soulmates, she knows about Nat's Soulmate.

You wondered what was Natasha thinking, what was her soulmate listening to, telling her. Was she saying goodbye? Was she trying to calm her down?

"We are going to fix you. We will make you to perfection. Our perfect girls." from the corner of your eye you watched as the Master was looking at Yelena. "Today is the day you will graduate from being apprentice and you will become Masters. You will become Black Widows."

Your Master looked around and you let out an strangled sound. Your very soul was screaming and in the bottom of your mind something deep and cold was pushing.

You barely felt the pinching on your left arm and the mask with sedative covering your nose and mouth. The heaviness in your lungs didn't help with tears that ran freely across your cheeks and the wailings of Yelena were thrumming around your mind.

A black tunnel started to form in your eyes and the voices got muffled. Again that pushing feeling pulled from some corner deep inside your mind, like screaming, pleading.

Before you lost consciousness you could swear that they were voices screaming around you in agony.

/////////////uwu////////////

Matt knew that his soulmate was out there, and like him was waiting.

When his father explained to him the concept of someone else being able to hear his thoughts, it frightened him. It felt wrong, him as a child couldn't really comprehend why will someone be okay with that? It was a total injustice! Not that child Matt knew very well about justice to talk about it, but the idea was totally mental.

His father just laughed at him with a bloody nose and hissing at every pad Matt gave him with the cotton ball.

After he lost his eyesight he became wary of the world. He became angry with his father for his choices and when he lost his father, he became angry with himself. With the men that killed his dad. With the world.

The idea of a soulmate didn't even crossed his mind. Not when he became an orphan and not when he started the training with Stick. He was angry and tired as hell. He didn't really give a shit for something he couldn't fully understand.

But his world started changing through a lot of suffering and consideration, some broken bones and bleeding noses and the nagging memory of his father taking the choice he believed in at the end, the justice is blind after all. And like that, slowly, it changed. First with his objectives in life.

His bitterness for the last years morphed with the more he became more like himself. With the freedom he found alongside the hearing, the new kind of sight he had, the enhanced abilities he got. And then came the voice of a man asking him nicely to shut the fuck up so I can get some sleep.

At that time he had already met Foggy and their shared dreams to become avocados at law made the friendship blossom. Matt didn't even need to hear his heartbeat to know the passion Foggy carried with him. The rightness he was unconsciously searching for.

One of those study nights until three in the morning the voice of a very tired and annoyed man came into his mind and he was so startled that he took a swing with his cane hitting Foggy on the temple and crashing the only lamp they could afford against the window.

"Matt! What the actual fuck!" Groaned Foggy while checking for no signs of blood in his head.

"I heard a man's voice just..."

"Really dear Matty, shut up or I'll do something that most likely will keep ya awake for the entire fucking year."

"Did you hear...!"

"Matt, that's your soulmate!"

"My WHAT?" now, even if Matt knew about this specific detail of life, he never really acknowledged it will happen to him one day. The poor guy was between confessing his sins and making more along the way to heaven, adding a little bit of semester finals and probably in search of a lawyer firm in which he could associate alongside Foggs. All of that barely surviving with almost six cups of coffee a day, and the stress that comes with being him.

"I did warn ya, boy."

To say Matt wasn't in the verge of a mental breakdown after hearing "Everybody" from Backstreet boys on repeat for a month on his head was like telling someone that indeed you don't need lungs to breath while running. His soulmate was a son of a bitch, and he would gladly trade him for whomever wanted to trade someone like the little bitch that now lived rent free on his mind.

It was hard to keep his mind in blank for the time that came knowing Frank. He was a difficult man, with a big purpose in his life. He had interests that where not at all like the ones Matt would suspect his soulmate to have. They were more like each others pain in the ass and they were fine with that.

After all, soulmates can choose who to spend their lives with.

When they talked it was almost to make the other mad, to get a reaction, and it was always out of the blue. Then they would start to bicker without end until one decided that was enough and cut the connection. Matt had to accept that Frank had some charisma behind all of that "glass half empty" thinking and even if he suppressed his emotions he could hint that the times they argued for useless shit like songs the other didn't like or dreams the other had and were bizarre and Matt would tell him that he was an hypocrite, after all "You dream with fucking jello guns that beg you to eat them Frank!" "Well yeah, but my mind doesn't dream with having to choose between a red or pink tie when I am fucking blind, boy!" Where conversations Frank needed to ground him in the reality, that outside of whatever fucking thing he was living, there was some other reality where he could get a future.

It wasn't like they didn't care for each other. It was like they were more soulmates that supported each other and at the same time hated each others guts out but in a friendly manner.

Now for Frank Castle, life was never really easy. He might have been part of the marines and tried to get along with his destined one. But every little thing from of the idealised future he made before shutting his mind off of Matt was heaven compared with what he had to endure from the moment he accepted that everything good would likely be taken from him.

And it all started with his family.

Matt knew of Maria. He would never admit that he was a little bit jealous, but Frank was happy. So, so happy that even Matt started to live his day to day with ease. The conversations had to stop, for the well being of both of them. And they agreed to close the soulmate bound for a time.

They both became invested in their own world, their own goals and achievements. And it wasn't until one December that something made their almost perfect worlds crumble.

It was cold and both of them in their respective places where enjoying a different type of Holidays. Matt was surely coming back from a party where Foggy had told him that he really shouldn't have drank that much but Matt being the stubborn little puppy he was just kept on doing that very thing until Foggy had to drag him back to their shared room.

"You're sush a nice frend Fogs, like you and... yeah..." giggly Matt talked and an amused Foggy listened. "Yeah, I know I'm a great catch Murdock just please, don't puke all over me"

There was really no other problem at hand than the feeling that something was wrong. A so common insistence in the back of Matt's mind that it was weird when he didn't have that permanent shape hunting him. That's the first reason why he didn't notice at first.

The fear was barely kept but it wasn't what got him to wake up from a drunken state. The agonising pain that came after was what took him from the very real moment in his room, laying on the couch.

He swore for a moment he wasn't in his place anymore, his eyes weren't looking at the end of the open living room where he slept but at a messy bloodied room with bodies scattered all around and the smell of black powder. Someone was screaming, begging and Matt knew it was Franks', this wasn't a dream. The emotion was so strong that his mind took him away from his reality, dragging his subconscious to the moment in Frank's life that will shape his entire world from then on.

The moment lasted two minutes before Frank mind shut him out.

Then, hell broke loose.

Months and months after were a chaos for Matt and Frank, between the pain and the unconscious rejection.

The future that Frank had built with Maria became a beautiful dream, a dream he started forgetting the moment his children took their last breath, the moment his wife, his Maria closed her eyes to never open them again. They would never return to him and in his pain, even if Matt would never blame him, he cut the soulmate connection for good.

Matthew Murdock became a hollow of himself, both for the pain that caused the lost of Frank and his own grieving. He got stuck as well in his nightmare when all he could do was remember those times where Frank was a friend on his day to day, when he gave him for granted. Now that was all he could do. Remember.

He went so deep on his own grieve that the hunt for the right people became his exit. The only way he could feel that after all, he could change the world even if it was in the most minimal way. Fisk was one of those.

Destiny has a variety of funny was of showing you the amount of choices you have. All the options can be display in front of you and its up to you if you want to see them, each one of them, or only one or two. But there are always options. Always.

That's why is so curious when Frank and Matt, even after years of being unable to talk to each other, suddenly didn't recognise themselves, not even in front of each other. With an almost kicked to death Matt sitting on front of a furious Frank.

Indeed, destiny has a very curious way of showing the path, for it wasn't at that moment when they figured out they were each others soulmates. Not even when they knew each others names or what they did for a living. Even if that part of their lives was the most important for both of them.

It actually was time after, when their worlds came crashing down for a second time, unbeknownst to them, a third soulmate that hadn't make an act of presence until a very much similar pain got them off guard.

/////////////////////// uwu /////////////////////////////

Now here's a very important detail about soulmates.

As you can see, Matt and Frank minds connection only came up years after they turned 18, Natasha's was there even before turning 17. This all is very confusing sometimes. But the connection is still there, you can feel it, sense it when you meet someone or... you can ignore it even if that One is standing in front of you kissing the breath out your lungs. This is because the soul is not ready.

One can love with all his heart, can be there for you or care for everyone else in a very selfish way. But that doesn't mean the person is ready to meet the One. Sometimes, the time is not right. And that's okay. Because having the chance to choose is what really matters. The fact that you are free to fall in love with someone without really caring if they were made for you or not.

This is a fact that many ignore, that every romantic wants to put aside and say you can't possibly love anybody else but your soulmates. And that's why Matt and Frank where so fucking weirded out and almost had a heart attack when it was your mind opening up to them, begging with your subconsciousness to the ones made for you for help.

Having gone through a very similar scenery, Matt left everything he was doing, a fucking interrogation for god's sake, and ran like never in his life, screaming in his head at Frank.

Murdock! Are you okay?

Frank! What's going on?

They asked at the same time.

Wait...

Hang on...

IT'S NOT YOU?!

#frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfiction #frank castle x matt murdock #matt murdock x frank castle #soulmate #soulmate au #daredevil fanfic #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #natasha romanoff #yelena belova

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sparklewww · 2 months

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hihi curious anon here, what is the JTOU au about? The designs for Mark and Cesar for the AU look so cute!!

YIPPEE Thank youuu so much anon!! ><❤️

I am glad that you are interested in my au, so I will try to tell you everything simply but in detail :3

Just two of us (JTOU) is an au in the form of a visual novel on behalf of Adam Murray. The development of the game is still frozen, but I want to release the prologue in the summer

When Adam went down the stairs to the basement (as we know from vol 2), he begins to realize his guilt to Jonah for yelling at him and telling him to leave this place. He wants to contact Jonah on the walkie-talkie, but Jonah's line is suddenly cut off. Adam got nervous and rushed out of that house in search of his partner. After a while, he finds a BPS van near the highway that crashed into a tree, and Jonah himself was in it, but already dead. After this moment, Adam was constantly followed by a feeling of great guilt, as well as his depression gradually developed. He started drinking, and after a while he accepted that Jonah was dead. But a year later, one day he meets Jonah on the street. From his drunken state, Adam does not realize that he is now seeing him, and even feels him. Only then does he realize that Jonah Marshall is standing in front of him, and not dead. Adam blinked and saw that his friend was now in a different guise, because he had become half an alternative. Despite this one, who now lives in the same body as Jonah, he remains conscious and in no way wants to harm Adam. Adam runs away from him in fear, and after that, for a long time, Jonah tries to regain Adam's trust. Cesar and Sarah try to help Jonah convince Adam, while Mark doesn't want to get involved in this whole damn thing at all, and Evelyn is already desperate, and if she sees Adam drunk again, another tantrum will arise. From the very beginning, Sarah was angry at Adam for drinking, smoking, hanging out somewhere and leaving work with BPS somewhere behind. Therefore, she was the one who asked Cesar to deal with Murray. Then, Cesar invites Adam to his house for a conversation. Because Cesar had been interested in alternatives for a long time, which means he was sure that he would be able to convince Adam that Jonah, despite the alternative, remains the same Jonah. As an example, he cites his cat Johnny, who, just like Jonah, once died and became a monster, but at the same time remained in his mind. Adam is annoyed that Cesar is trying to be instructive here, he makes one sharp movement and breaks the frame with the photo where Cesar was with Mark, Sarah and Johnny. Adam immediately looked into Cesar's eyes, which turned red, or else they looked like Johnny the cat's. He begins to feel something paranormal around Cesar and runs away from home. It turns out that Johnny, as a half-alternative, was able to do the M.A.D effect on people. He taught Cesar this, and besides, they are together almost as one. Adam also left his bag at Cesar's house, and Torres, after rummaging through it, finds a knife there. It immediately became clear to him that Adam could resort to extreme cases and kill Jonah. In the future, Cesar will return the bag along with the knife to Adam, but he will no longer help. Sometimes Cesar will, on the contrary, interfere with Adam, show him what a pathetic alcoholic he is. There is also another line of events between Adam and Tetcher. Thatcher suspects Adam of killing Jonah, and Adam's task is to turn around from the police and plead not guilty.

There are two endings in this au: the good and the bad. A good one, where Adam accepts Jonah as he is and they continue to be friends as childhood friends. And in a bad ending, Jonah gets tired of putting up with it all and then, losing control, he gives himself up to an alternative. The alternative Jonah brings Adam to the point of semi-death, and then kills each of his acquaintances in front of him: Sarah, Mark, Cesar and Evelyn. At an unexpected moment, a bullet flies into Jonah, and turning around, the monster sees Thatcher who is trying to stop the alternative. But in vain, Jonah did not feel pain and then he kills Thatcher too. And then he kills Adam. It all ends with Jonah crying and being left alone.

and yes, I have a separate hashtag where there are more art for my au. u can check it out! :3

#tmc jtou au #tmc #mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue #ask #anonymous #anon ask

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lumine-no-hikari · 4 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #73

As it turns out, the weather today is not ideal for J to fly home with the plane. So J, Br, and I will be staying in Pennsylvania at least until tomorrow.

J tried to encourage us to go home. Br and I stayed. We spent time at a nearby cafe, making art and eating tasty snacks. When J was done getting 5 hours of flight time in the machine with an instructor (for insurance purposes), Br and I were glad that we had stayed; Joel tends to become extremely anxious when he is away from people he is familiar with for too long, and today was no exception to that general trend, ahaha…

I used the time to weave a wire tree. Br drew a self-portrait. And while we did our things, we spoke about various topics, from our various traumas to our dreams for the future.

Here are some images of the tree I wove together today:

...I hope that the tree I wove in your colors somehow can reach you. I hope that the Tree of Life I wove in my colors and encased in an epoxy sphere somehow reaches you. I entrusted some very important people with one of these things, with the hope that they would pass it along to you; they have the power to do this. I doubt that they will, but... even if they don't, I hope that the item I made is enjoying its time in Japan in a spot where it can be seen and loved.

...In any case. I feel very blessed to know Br. J and I met her at a chance encounter, going to an event called a "Star Party". A Star Party is when a bunch of folks interested in the night sky get together with telescopes in a place with minimal light pollution. Because there was so very little light pollution where we went, I was actually able to see the arms of my planet's galaxy for the first time; it was a marvelous sight to witness. Br, J, and I exchanged contact information, and we've been good friends ever since.

Since so much of your planet still seems like it's undeveloped (and thus there are still a lot of places where the light emitted from cities does not touch, yes?), I imagine it must be pretty easy for you to find places where the night sky is fully visible in all its glory, no? I can't help but wonder what your night sky looks like, what the arms of your galaxy look like, and so on. Are the constellations where you live very different from the constellations where I live? What sorts of colors do the stars in your night sky shine in?

…I wish I could hear your answers to all of these. I wish I could spend time listening to you talk about it. I'd never get tired of listening to the things you know and the things you think and feel about the things you know.

I've seen the moon in your world, though. Here's one picture we have:

We have this picture, too. This is probably the best one we have so far. But some guy has kinda photobombed it on us:

...That's okay though. He seems very excited and he's good at balancing on things. I don't mind as long as he's having a good time!

The moon in my world looks like this:

...So as you can see, the craters that face my planet look a lot different from yours. But, we have 3D models of our moon, which is pretty neat! So if you change the angle just a tiny little bit, you'll see that the craters on my moon are actually maybe a little similar to yours:

...It's not too terribly different at all, is it? I suppose I find that comforting, for some reason.

I hope someday you'll be able to take a nice walk somewhere and enjoy the sight of your moon and of your stars at your leisure. Since there's so much light pollution, I don't have a whole lot of opportunities to properly enjoy the night sky on my planet, so... please make it a point to enjoy the night sky on yours a little extra for me, okay?

You are loved, so please stay safe out there. Come back to us in one piece. Make good, kind, gentle, and loving choices.

I'm not sure what tomorrow will look like, but one thing is certain: I will write to you. So look forward to it.

Your friend, Lumine

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humanransome-note · 3 months

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Unfortunately, my father is still alive after a workplace incident left two men dead.

I know this because after not contacting me since Boxing Day, he suddenly texted me claiming I left a large wad of cash at his home that he “suddenly found”.

I doubt this is what happened for multiple reasons, including but not limited to, I haven’t been to his house since sophomore year of high school, and I would’ve never left that much cash at his place, as I never wanted to be there so I would’ve never left a reason to go back. The name on the envelope is also spelled wrong, a common thing with that name, but considering he didn’t get my birthday right for 18 years, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know how to spell it either, even if it is also his sister’s name. (The sister he resents for having gone to medical school and becoming a doctor, he feels that her success impeded his own and he was denied his full potential. Not the sister he berated after the funeral of the closest person she may ever have to a son.)

After claiming I wasn’t home and telling him to just put the envelope in the mailbox if he was already heading this way. He texted me this:

“Family ask about you did not want to say you don’t communicate with us and I am tired of trying to make you look all good so I will just give them your number you are no longer a child and will be 24 this year I am confident you can speak to them for yourself because they did you no wrong “

I never asked that he try and “make me look good” in regards to his half of the family, that’s something he did of his own volition and likely benefit. (when he probably started doing it I was still a minor and he couldn’t tell his mother he hadn’t seen me in months because she’d likely tear him a new one.)

At least two people I know for certain are in contact with his mother have my phone number. If she asked, one might give it without protest, the other might try to at least get in touch with me first. And if his mother had it, they’d all have it. Also, I have had the same phone number for almost 10 years, and the last time it changed I sent a mass text to every number I had saved. If they want to talk, they have my number, it is not my job to drag everyone together no matter how much he intended for that to be the case.

As an adult I can chose to speak to them, and frankly, I’d likely chose not to. But they haven’t even tried contacting me, so I haven’t even been in the position to make that decision.

“They did you no wrong…” me and several therapists would have to disagree with that.

They were a massive motivator for my insecurities regarding my body, I would starve myself whenever I traveled with them because it was less stressful than being nagged about my food choices. They regularly and openly spoke about me like I was an investment, that they were waiting out my “ugly duckling” years and one day I’d metamorphosize into some sort of femme fatale.

Since I could toddle they’d talk about my hypothetical future love life, and when I’d mention not being interested in the idea of settling down and having kids, they’d start reminding me I was the end of this branch of the family tree, they thought of me like a fucking failing brood mare.

Btw, that sister he resents? She had unresolved grief from several miscarriages, and while I feel sorry for her in the abstract sense, the fact is when she found out I existed, she started projecting the sort of child she wanted onto me, and was obviously disappointed when I would visit and shatter those ideas she had of what a good daughter should be.

I’m also confidant that my father likely gloated about the fact that he had a child (that he didn’t even really want) and she couldn’t have one she was desperate for, considering his behavior after the funeral, I would not be surprised.

And he didn’t even come around, I checked the mailbox at midnight and no suspiciously convenient envelope.

Piece of shit bastard

#wurds #bastard sperm donor

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lupaeusmoved · 23 days

Note

✿

send “ ✿ ” for 2 14 headcanons for our muses’ relationship .

i . mafia

emma is actually viscerally afraid every time andrei is more than five minutes later getting home than he expects to be , particularly when he's been doing business from which he could come back in a condition she can't unsee . . . no matter how hard she tries .

she taught gabi the most effective way to pout when you want andrei to fold for any reason . it only works about 60% of the time , but honestly it's more effective for their youngest daughter than it ever was for elena or aurora . ( petre , stefan , and marcel know better than to try )

ii . boxer

once all was well with costin after andrei's big fight , and they both developed a decent relationship with him , he became like a father to her , even before she and andrei got married . she relies on him for moral support each time her husband takes a blow in the ring .

emma teaches alina daily affirmations to say to herself in the mirror each morning , and she always makes sure that she speaks loud enough that dada can hear her sparkle .

when they're in philadelphia , they get to experience firsthand a sporting event traffic jam for the first time ; and andrei gets to experience emma's road rage for the first time , too .

iii . royal

when she first started sneaking out with him , rather than just patching him up in the aftermath of his fights , emma was nearly beside herself with anxiety . even before she knew she had feelings for him , the idea of him getting hurt made her want to throw up .

their royal wedding actually broke records . it was the most expensive wedding ever held ; between families they funded a celebration that lasted almost two entire weeks after the ceremony .

iv . soldier

after that first moment in the ocean , they spend nearly every free moment making skin to skin contact of some kind . not always sexual - though often it turns that way if it's not how it started - sometimes they simply sit beneath a palm tree , her in his lap , forehead tucked up under his jaw . for hours . sometimes they talk about what their place will be like when they can live under a real roof together like normal couples . other times they just listen to the waves and hold each other close .

when andrei first loses his hand , emma won't let him look at it . each time she catches him , she'll cup his cheeks and gently order him to look at her - then tell him how much she loves him , and kiss him until he notices that she's also siphoning his pain .

v . football ( soccer )

while at first emma didn't step in because she was in shock , she allowed andrei to beat the shit out of her hookup for way longer than she knows she should have . something about him giving in to such primal violence over another man touching her the way he does , had her biting her lip before she snapped back to her senses .

by the time the summer emma has intended to spend in germany is over , it's become completely clear that she can't leave . andrei is a huge pain in the ass , and she does sometimes miss beacon hills , but they're so passionate about each other that she can't picture herself anywhere else . plus , she's already done the thing from that video with the interviewer , so . the whole world knows they're glued together now .

general .

emma learns / becomes fluent in romanian in every verse , allowing her to both speak privately to andrei while in the presence of those who won't understand - and to drive him crazy in the bedroom .

whenever they have kids / pregnancies / plans for future kids , emma spends so much time planning the nurseries that andrei has to physically remove her from the giant spread of magazines and force her to take a break .

she also learns to cook in every verse except royal , wanting to help make andrei's day easier in any way she can . also , she's an adult . she really should know how to cook .

#{ gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i fear }#୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ › razorfst › ⌗ emma and andrei .#୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ the intersection got a target and they’re calling it downtown ⌗ headcanon .#୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ stayed on the line with you the entire night ⌗ answered .#୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ i’ll love you when the oceans dry ; i’ll love you when the rivers freeze ⌗ save .

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honestlyyoungtyphoon · 2 years

Text

Navier/Sovieshu ao3 fic master lists-

From newer to old

Adding fuel to fire

Summary: Navier was changing clothes, Sovieshu walks in on her. Rest is history...

About: Explicit, hot smut 🥵, completed

Hurt and happiness

Summary: Sovieshu and Navier get divorced after his drunken one night stand with a random blond woman. It didn't help that she got pregnant too. Navier asks for divorce despite Sovieshu asking for forgiveness. After the divorce she marries someone else and leaves the country. Sovieshu tried to contact her, but she blocked him on everything. The other girl had no interest in marriage or kids, so she gives up the baby to Sovieshu and takes off. Sovieshu tries to be a good parent despite the ugly situation and doesn't date anyone else because of his guilt over losing Navier.Fast forward to ten years, he meets Navier again as his new neighbor who's currently widowed and has two sons of her own. Life as a single mom with two young kids is really hard. Sovieshu tries to help but will Navier accept it? Is reconciliation possible after all this years?Prompt inspired by Reddit post.

About: Ongoing, fluff and angst

Untitled

Summary: Sovieshu pushes Navier's buttons and she retaliates with magic leading to an adorable moment between them.

About: Fluff and crack, complete , ficlet

Lazy morning

Summary: On a rare four day weekend off of work, Navier and Sovieshu decide to start it off right.

About: Domestic fluff, modern AU, ficlet, completed.

May we meet again

Summary: Sovieshu and Navier find themselves at the beginning of their relationship. Their minds have woken up in their young body and only they're the ones remembers what happens next. Sovieshu thought this time he could fix what he broke but Navier disagrees. Sovieshu is heartbroken but he understands. The couple breaks up the engagement despite the protest from everyone else. It was a mutual decision after all and they decided to remain friends. Sovieshu appoints Navier as one of his minister in the court until Heinly arrives in eastern empire to sweep her away... Happy ending right? Then why the prince is going after Sovieshu's new wife? Why he's not even glancing at Navier? Oh wait, they forgot that Heinly's goal was the empress of Eastern empire, not a court minister. And Navier wasn't the empress of the eastern empire, not anymore. So what will happen now? Will the new Empress will fall for the trap? What happens to Rashta and her children? Will Heinly also remember the future? Can Navier forgive and forget everything?

About: Angst, fluff, ongoing, AU, time travel

Don't wish upon a tree

Summary: Navier and Sovieshu decided to spend her birthday in the imperial villa.

About: Fluff, bickering, AU, completed.

The other woman

Summary: Sovieshu brings a woman from hunting. It makes the lady in waiting worried. A prequel of my fic "Take a hint". It's about how Rashta becomes Navier's maid.

About: Domestic fluff, misunderstanding, AU, part of a series, completed

Take a hint

Summary: At the new years celebration, the emperor suddenly left the empress alone in the middle of the dance, shocking everyone. They started murmuring. Trouble in marriage? Navier had to keep her cool and hide her blush cause they had no idea what just happened.

About: AU series, hint of smut

Why does it have to be you

Summary: Sovieshu couldn't believe his eyes when his new bride unveiled herself - Navier Trovi, the woman that made his life miserable in university life, the woman he hates the most.

About: Modern AU, enemies to lovers, arrange marriage, classmates, bickering, teasing, I love Navier being so sneaky lol

All that glitters isn't gold

Summary: Heinry shows Navier the pictures of Sovieshu and Rashta going into a cabin together, exposing her husband's affair. Only if he knew...

About: Serial killers, Modern AU, Navier and Sovieshu being evil together, one of my favourites!!

Bare your heart to me

Summary: Me the pervert, trying to write a sugary sweet ff because oh why not? It's Navier and Sovieshu again because I don't like Heinry.

About: Declaration of love, communication, AU, completed.

The fear of losing you

Summary: Navier and Sovieshu were walking in the garden. Little did she know this would be the worst nightmare of her life.

About: Angst with happy ending, one shot, completed

Lying down next to you

Summary: It was almost dinnertime and Sovieshu wasn't here yet which made me worried. Lately, my husband has been working day and night without any eye shut and skipping meals to focus on his work. It has been very busy lately in the Eastern Empire due to a lot of budgeting and signing documents

About: One shot, domestic fluff au, cute

Morning Glow

Summary: Navier wakes up early in the morning with Sovieshu's hand wrapped around her. She enjoys the peaceful quiet morning with her sleeping husband.

About: Another domestic fluff, one shot , completed, cute.

Navier's h*le aches for deep cleaning

Summary: AU where Sovieshu and Navier does some things before they learn about rashta's pregnancy.

About: Smut 😏, completed, one shot , explicit

First born

Summary: Navier doesn't feel well when the day of Rashta's honorary banquet rolls around. Alas, she is the Empress and Sovieshu is already under the impression that she's trying to ruin the runaway slave's life and reputation, so she has to make an appearance despite this.

About: AU where Navier gives birth before Rashta, one of my favourites, this is one of the oldest navieshu fic, really good plot, completed. I really loved it. I wish the writer made a sequel for this. I'm really curious about the future dynamic. What'd happen to Navier and Sovieshu and their new child? What'd happen to Rashta? So many questions!!!!

Hyacinth

Summary: When Sovieshu learned about Navier's pregnancy, he saw a chance to rebuild their relationship. Amidst the joy of the country, he sent away the blonde prince his wife was so fond of, as well as the rest of ill intended foreigners who pursued her.While it seemed that Navier would never show any warmth towards him again -be it for his illegitimate child or his meddling in the banishment of her western prince-, he still hoped for reconciliation.Then the girl was born with violet eyes.

About: Angst, one shot, well the ending isn't about Navieshu but the plot is mainly about them. The story was good but the writer got too cocky about western kingdom's power. Like bruh, Navier and Heinry had to secretly flee from the eastern empire and you think here he'd march in and threaten Sovieshu with his army that's weaker than Eastern empire? The ending is meh but if you ignore the ending, it's somewhat decent.

Same old, same old

Summary: In a twist the appearances of Rashta and Heinley do not fully tear Navier and Sovieshu apart, but help them finally grow together.

About: Incomplete and abandoned 😞, but cute fluffy with angst

I've only included fics that mainly focus about Navier and Sovieshu.

Enjoy!!

#remarried empress #the remarried empress #navier×sovieshu #navieshu #navier #sovieshu #my otp #fic rec #fic review #masterlist #fic related

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piercethelenn · 2 years

Text

💫The Occult Club.

ㅤ

Chapter 13: Ginkgo Biloba.

Warnings: Mentions of coma and illness. || Word count: 1k.

ㅤ

So much had changed after the last time Y/N texted Jungwon. With the help of Sunoo’s unknown connections, rumors about the Occult Club started to spread within the school, making students visit the cabin in the woods almost everyday. Jake and Sunghoon had made sure the place was accessible and easy to find, tying blue ribbons to trees to signal a safe path. Riki had occupied an unused corner to assemble a small laboratory, dedicated to make his elixirs; he was not sure if it was legal to sell them, though. With the helpful advice provided by Jungwon’s grandma, the youngest was also able to plant his own herbs in the forest.

The club members had been so busy that none of them realized an entire week had passed after they lost contact with the girl. Riki tried to reach her but was ignored, so he took it as a sign to leave her some space. He would not admit it out loud, but it hurt a little seeing her alone during lunch and recess, it made him feel like the worst best friend in the world. Jungwon was worried, too, but contrary to the alchemist he would voice his concerns one in a while.

It was on friday evenings like that one when they would reach a peak in visitors, making it almost impossible to rest, but none of them minded; the boys felt passionate about their “jobs”, after all. After closing time the members would gather at the table, which was now covered in purple cloth thanks to the money they earned from their services.

一Hey, Riki一 Sunoo called the boy, offering him a bottle of grape juice 一We’ve been so busy that I forgot I wanted to ask you something一 Now all the members were paying attention to their conversation. 一Why did you want to become an alchemist? I mean, at such a young age一. Instead of facing the numerologist, the younger boy analyzed the drink as if he suddenly cared about its nutritional value. 一All of you are young too, I don’t know what you mean一.

一Yeah, but一 Sunghoon meddled 一Alchemy is a lot different, it’s more complicated and scientific一. Riki started to feel a bit pressured with all four pairs of eyes fixed on him 一At first, I wanted to become a florist一. He took a moment to contemplate what he was going to say, until he reached the conclusion that now, as he had become an official member of the club, there was no harm in telling them the whole story. It took him a long pause and a few deep breaths to continue 一But when I was younger, my mom fell severely ill. At first I thought that the doctors could help her, but years passed and nothing changed, so I started to study how plants can help people, and now I’m perfecting an elixir to wake my mom up from coma一 The alchemist finally raised his head and was met with four worried faces. It was never easy to share one’s burdens, but he did not regret opening up, those boys were his friends now.

一I’m so sorry一 Sunoo placed a hand on Riki’s arm in a comforting way 一I shouldn't have made you talk about that一. Riki waved him off 一Don’t worry, the doctors said she’s stable, I know she will recover as soon as she wakes up一 The hope in his voice sounded genuine, as if he had foreseen the future 一My mom is very strong一.

一Yeah? Then you must have gotten that from her, she’ll be so proud to find out you are doing so much to help her一 Jungwon tried to encourage him, smiling to ease the previous tension.

The leader’s comment seemed to remind Riki of something, and suddenly his tone was sorrowful again 一If only I had made any progress… But after almost thirty tries I can’t seem to get it right. I’ve been mixing leaves of Ginkgo Biloba with many other things, but there’s no response…一 He paused to look at the clueless expressions in his friend’s faces 一Sorry, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about一 He opened a new drink, in hopes of drowning his negative thoughts in grape juice.

一You are right一 Jungwon replied, a part of him slightly worried about the alchemist’s blood sugar levels 一But I might know of someone who does…一

(...)

一Don’t worry, I’m glad to be of help一 Jungwon’s grandma had reassured Riki for the nth time that evening after he apologized for taking up her time. The old woman looked at his grandson 一You are a good friend, Jungwonie, I’m very proud of you一. The tarotist muttered a small “thank you” as he tried to hide his embarrassment, was there any need to say something like that in front of everyone?

The three of them were walking down the hospital hallway, in search of Ms. Nishimura’s room. After knocking a few times, a nurse opened the door and left to give them some privacy.

The senior tarotist felt her heart sink after seeing the woman’s face, she knew that Riki’s last name sounded a bit too familiar. 一I know why the elixir has not worked一 She announced. The boys looked at each other in amazement at how fast the diagnosis was made. 一She was not affected physically, so medicine has no effect一 The woman looked at Riki 一I need to perform a ritual to cleanse her, if you give permission, of course一.

Everything was so sudden, but after the week spent listening to the old woman’s knowledge about magic, the alchemist decided to trust her. He had tried almost everything for a whole year and his mom was still the same, maybe it was time to face the problem from a new perspective. Riki nodded in order to give her consent to proceed.

一Jungwon, honey, please close the curtains and hand me my bag. You two have to wait outside, understand?一 The boys did as they were told and exited the room. Riki catched a last glimpse of his mother before gently closing the door.

(...)

After almost twenty minutes of waiting, Riki, who had been the whole time silently staring at the white floor tiles, broke down in tears. The sudden sound of sobbing alerted Jungwon, who immediately tried to comfort the taller boy, placing a hand on his shoulder and handing him a tissue. 一Don’t worry, granny has a lot of experience in these things, she used to be like us when she was young, you know?一 He completely understood the situation his friend was facing right now, but Jungwon was not a good talker nor did he know how to comfort people, so he could not help but feel impotent at the sight.

一It’s not that… I know I can trust her…It’s just…一 Riki was trying his best to stop crying and form a coherent sentence, but tears just would not cease from peeking at the corners of his eyes. 一I can’t believe I spent a whole year doing useless things, when the answer wasn’t even a medicine一.

一But how could you know that?一 The leader replied 一You are already so mature and brave to be doing this much at your age一 It almost sounded as if Jungwon was talking to himself, and he could notice it, too 一But some things are just out of our control, I don’t know your mother, but anyone would feel proud to have a son like you… All this time trying your best for the sake of someone else when it’s not even your responsibility…一 He could not tell the exact moment when his own expression started to mirror Riki’s, but he would not cry, his friend needed him to be a pilar and lend a shoulder to cry on, even if Jungwon had his own reasons to break down right at that moment, too.

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jowritesfanfiction · 1 year

Text

I Fell For You

Rating: Teen

Fandom: Back to the Future

Ships: George McFly/Lorraine Baines

Word Count: 3191

The boys of Hill Valley High School had become confusing to George. Well, they had always been confusing, but somehow they had become more-so.

you can also read it here!

Between the second semester of last year and the beginning school year, the boys of Hill Valley High School had become confusing to George. Well, they had always been confusing, but somehow they had become more-so.

The boys had a tendency to talk in some sort of code and share around a magazine that Strickland told them “would not be tolerated in this school” before confiscating it.

George had only seen the cover of one magazine, which was enough for George to know that this new “thing” wasn’t anything he had thought it would be and was definitely not for him.

From what he could piece together, most of the boys seemed to have this fascination with women that didn’t make sense. Sure, girls were pretty and nice, George couldn’t deny that, but was one supposed to be interested in seeing another person nude? Was there something wrong with George for not wanting it? Or was this some sick joke to make fun of how “innocent” George McFly was? Whatever the reason was, George was going to prove them wrong.

That was why he was perched in a tree, binoculars in hand, staring at the girl across the street. As she was changing.

It felt wrong in every possible way (even excluding the way the tree bark felt). Was there supposed to be some sort of gratification in doing this sort of thing? Or was the discomfort and disgust the “fun” of it? Maybe George was missing something.

As George tried to find a comfortable position in the tree, he slipped. For a moment he dangled on the branch, but gave out. He felt his feet hit the pavement hard, knocking the wind out of him. George allowed himself a second to catch his breath, but at the same time, a car was making its way down the road. By some sick stroke of luck or fate, the driver didn’t see George standing in the middle of the road, and hit him.

The impact of the car sent the rest of George’s body to the hard pavement. The last thing George heard before he blacked out was “Stella! Another one of these damn kids jumped in front of my car!”

After what felt like only a few seconds, George came to his senses. He was fairly sure he was in his room. How he got there, he wasn’t sure.

George turned to lay on his side.

He felt a cold, wet rag press against his forehead.

George murmured something inaudible.

“Shhh. You’ve been asleep for almost nine hours.” a strange, calm voice said.

George opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. This was definitely not his room.

George’s comforter did not have a floral pattern. George’s walls did not have floral wallpaper. George’s room did not have a vanity mirror. And George’s room never hosted a girl in it.

“I’m Lorraine. Lorraine Baines.” the girl said.

“Where am I?” he blurted.

“Relax now, George. You’ve got a big bruise on your head.” the girl answered.

“How’d you know my name?” George blurted.

“We go to the same school.” she explained, “I’ve seen you in the halls.”

“I haven’t seen you…”

“That’s because you never look at anybody.” Lorraine laughed.

George had been staring at the bedsheets the whole time. Noticing the irony, George lifted his head up to look at the mysterious girl. Upon looking up, George came to the horrific realization: this was the girl from across the street! The one George had been staring at!

George began to sweat.

Lorraine slowly moved from the bed across from him to George’s bed.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.

George shook his head. He hoped this interaction would finish soon.

“That’s a big bruise you’ve got there.” Lorraine repeated, reaching her hand out toward his head. Her warm hand made contact with his forehead. George flinched and recoiled away.

“Lorraine?” someone called from below. “Are you up there?”

“It’s my mother!” Lorraine panicked under her breath. She turned to George. “Don’t tell my mother I was up here, okay?”

She smiled. George blinked.

“No, Mother!” Lorriane ran out of the room. “I just heard he was awake.”

“Well, then go tell him dinner is ready.”

Lorraine walked back into the room.

“Are you finished? Mother says dinner is ready.”

George heard what they had said, but didn't say anything and just nodded. Lorraine led him downstairs.

“So, George, what sort of birds have you seen?” Mrs. Baines asked.

George looked back at her in confusion.

“I guessed you like bird-watching, don’t you? That’s why you had those binoculars with you!” Mrs. Baines chatted.

“Oh, right…” George muttered.

Mrs. Baines’s attention turned to the man George assumed to be Mr. Baines. Mr. Baines was preoccupied trying to work on a television set.

“Sam, here’s the young man you hit with your car out there.” Mrs. Baines sighed. “He’s alright, thank God.”

Mr. Baines popped out from behind the television and pointed at George, “What were you doing in the middle of the street, a kid your age?”

“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s in one of his moods.” Mrs. Baines interjected, “Sam, you quit fiddling with that thing. Come in here to dinner.”

Without a beat, Mrs. Baines switched her attention back to George.

“Now let’s see, you already know Lorraine.” she babbled, “This is Milton.”

Milton looked to be at least twelve, maybe thirteen. For a twelve year old, he still looked like his mother dressed him–not that Milton wasn’t capable of dressing himself. In fact, he seemed to have chosen to wear a Davy Crocket sort of hat, which Mrs. Baines did not appreciate and took it off his head.

“This is Sally.”

Sally had to be around seven or eight. Unlike her older siblings and parents, Sally had lighter hair. Sally poked at her food like she was poking at a questionably dead bug with a stick.

“That’s Toby.”

Toby sat in a smaller chair that allowed him to actually reach the table properly. He looked like a much younger, toddlerish version of his father.

“And over there in the playpen is little, baby Joey!” Mrs. Baines chimed in a grating baby-tone.

Joey also had blonde hair like his sister Sally, but his blonde hair was more… blonde. He looked far too old to not eat at a dinner table, but young enough to still play in a playpen.

Joey smiled and made an incoherent noise at George.

“Yes, Joey just loves being in his playpen!” Mrs. Baines cheered. “He cries whenever we take him out, so we just leave him in all the time.”

George nodded.

“Well, George, I hope you like meatloaf.”

“I…uh…” George sputtered.

He really ought to be at his own house, eating dinner with his mother and father. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Mrs. Baines who never seemed to get tired of talking. How was George even supposed to get a single word out?

“Sit here, George!” Lorraine smiled, pushing him into a chair.

“Sam, stop fiddling with that thing and come and eat your dinner!” Mrs. Baines said. She had a slightly annoyed tone.

Mr. Baines wheeled the television toward the table.

“Look at it roll!” he cheered, “Now we can watch Jackie Gleason while we eat!”

Mrs. Baines cheered along with her husband as he sat down to eat dinner. The whole family (minus Joey, who was more interested in moving beads on his playpen) stared at the television set as they ate.

The McFly family had a television set, but Mrs. McFly preferred that the family watched it after dinner so they could enjoy each other's company. That’s how George thought it went in all families, but apparently it was different in the Baines household.

“It’s our first television set. Dad just picked it up today.” Lorraine informed him. “Do you have a television?”

“Yes.” George replied.

George turned to eat the meatloaf in front of him. Across from him, Milton and Sally stared at the television screen. Mrs. Baines was working on eating her meatloaf while engaging in the television. Mr. Baines looked as enthralled with Jackie Gleason as his kids did–something George’s father had tried to get him into. George wasn’t against Jackie Gleason, he just preferred Science Fiction Theater.

George looked at Lorraine. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Lorraine patted her tooth. George mirrored her and found a piece of meatloaf stuck between his front teeth. He quickly looked away and wiped his face.

“Do I know your mother, George?”

“I don’t know.” George muttered.

“Oh. I wanna give her a call, I don’t want her to worry about you.”

“Uh…Mother?” Lorraine asked, “With George’s bruise, don’t you think he oughta spend the night? I mean, afterall, Dad almost hit him with the car…”

“That’s true, George.” Mrs. Baines said thoughtfully. “I think maybe you should spend the night. I think you’re our responsibility.”

George didn’t think so. His bruise wasn’t too bad. He could go home.

“And he can sleep in my room!” Lorraine whispered. Lorraine placed her hand on George’s leg and squeezed it.

George wasn’t sure what to make out of that. The only thing he did know was that it was very weird. He looked over at Mr. Baines; maybe he would have something to say?

Mr. Baines did not. He didn’t even seem to be paying any attention to what was going on.

Mrs. Baines was calling George’s mother now.

“Oh, don’t worry! George is perfectly fine.” Mrs. Baines coaxed on the phone. “I just wanted to let you know he’ll be staying the night. No, it’s no trouble. He’s our responsibility. Goodbye, now!”

“Come on, George.” Lorraine gently grasped his hand and led him to the staircase.

“Uh…where?” he asked.

“To my room!”

She stated it like a fact.

George reached for the back of his head and looked away. How could he explain to Lorraine that he didn’t want to be alone with her? Not that he didn’t like Lorraine. She was good company. She was nice to him when so few people had even bothered to talk to him. But George had ruined it by hiding in that tree.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, loosening her grip.

“I…I dunno.” George murmured, “Didn’t your mother say I’d be staying in Milton’s room?”

“No she didn’t.” Lorraine smiled, “And you don’t want to sleep with Milton.”

“Why not?” George asked.

“For one, you’d have to put up with Milton, Toby, and Joey.”

Maybe it was because George had no siblings of his own, but George couldn’t fathom what could be so bad about sharing a room.

“And second,” Lorraine informed him, “Milton snores, Toby moves around every five seconds, and Joey isn’t fully potty trained.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” George said with complete ignorance.

“If you say so.” Lorraine warned.

Still, George wasn’t sure why Lorraine was so adamant about him sleeping in her room, anyway. Surely she knew that it was never going to happen? Even ignoring the reservations George had about it, surely Mr. and Mrs. Baines wouldn’t let that happen.

“Milton, would you go get a pillow and some blankets in your room for George?” Mrs. Baines said from the other hand.

“Okay.” Milton agreed, heading upstairs.

Lorraine was right. Sharing a room with Milton, Toby, and Joey was not what he wanted. It was a wonder how any of them managed to go to sleep every night.

Milton’s snoring was loud and grated in your ears. Toby sounded like a washing machine with his constant tossing and turning. And Joey went to wake Milton up every half hour to go to the bathroom, but by eight o’clock, Milton had fallen into deep sleep. Joey began to opt for George instead.

Walking Joey to the bathroom wasn’t so bad for George–it wasn’t like George was going to sleep anyway– but most of the time, Joey’s emergencies were false alarms. Not to mention, it was a little awkward monitoring a toddler he hardly knew to go to the bathroom.

After the third trip to the bathroom, George took a pillow and a blanket and went outside the room. Sleeping on the floor was not comfortable and Mr. Baines’s old scratchy and baggy pajamas didn’t help either.

George didn’t have many options of sleep. He could either go back in the room or sleep downstairs. But going downstairs meant that Mr. and Mrs. Baines would find him there, and it would raise too many questions like “Why are you sleeping down here? Is everything alright? Couldn’t you sleep upstairs? What’s wrong with where you were before?” Questions that George couldn’t answer out of embarrassment and not wanting to sound rude.

Instead, George sat at the top of the stairs and tried to make himself comfortable.

“He’s a very strange young man.” Mrs. Baines said from downstairs.

Were they talking about him? George wondered

“He’s an idiot.” Mr. Baines added, “...comes from upbringing. Parents were probably idiots, too.”

“Now, Sam, he just got hit by the car. He probably isn’t thinking right.”

They definitely were talking about him.

“He isn’t right in the head.” Mr. Baines decided, “No right person would stand in the middle of the street.”

“Have some sympathy, Sam. He’s been through a lot in one day.”

“It’s not like he’s ever said anything to defend himself. Hell, he’s hardly said anything.”

“Would you talk to the person who hit you with a car?”

Mr. Baines ignored his wife. “He could grow some thick skin. He’s a complete nobody.”

George shuffled a bit.

“I’m going to check on Joey, then I’m heading to bed.”

Mrs. Baines’s footsteps made their way closer to the staircase, then made their way up the stairs.

“George?” Mrs. Baines asked. She was standing on the landing, looking up at him. “Are you alright?”

Oh no.

“Did something happen?”

George shook his head.

“What is it, then?”

George shrugged. Mrs. Baines raised an eyebrow.

“If there’s nothing wrong, then why are you out here?”

“I couldn’t sleep…” George mumbled.

“Oh, well why didn't you say that? Why don’t you head downstairs and get yourself situated on the sofa.”

George stood up and made his way downstairs to the living room.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Baines demanded. He sat in an armchair, the evening paper fanned out on his lap.

“I’m…uh…” George tried to say.

“Speak up.”

“I couldn’t sleep upstairs.” George managed.

“Hm.” Mr. Baines folded the paper up and set it down, then walked upstairs.

George started working on laying on the sofa and going to bed.

“George?” Lorraine’s voice asked.

It was dark now. The lights in the house were off and it was relatively late into the night. George sat up.

“Hm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you sleep upstairs?”

George shrugged.

“Who was it that kept you up?”

“All of them.”

“I figured as much.”

George nodded. He felt the end of the sofa sag as Lorraine sat down. He pulled his legs closer to him to give Lorraine room.

“You could have come into my room. I wouldn’t have minded you sleeping in there.”

“I dunno…”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me.”

“That’s because you’re awake.”

“Even if I wasn’t awake, you could have come in.” Lorraine shifted closer to George.

“Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

Whatever she meant, George couldn’t figure it out. Lorraine seemed to be expecting a response from him, but George didn’t have one.

“Don’t you?” she asked.

“Don’t I what?”

“Don’t you want to come in my room? Even a little bit?” She sounded like she already knew the answer. George did not.

George blinked. “Why would I want to?”

“I saw what you were doing outside my window.”

“Oh…” George pulled the blanket closer to his face.

“Don’t worry. It’s not the first time someone’s done that.”

“What?!” George gasped, dropping the blanket in bewilderment.

“Well you must know about that. And anyway, I’m not bothered by it.”

“What?” George gasped. “That’s a horrible thing to do!”

“It’s almost natural for anyone to feel that way.” Lorraine explained. “I know I’ve thought about watching people a few times.”

George reached for the back of his head. Did everyone feel this way? Maybe he was an alien like the ones in his science fiction stories.

“I’m sorry I did it. It wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” George blurted, “I’ll go home if you want. You can never talk to me ever again, too.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I shouldn’t have been watching you.”

“Well, sure. But everybody’s done it.”

“But that doesn’t make it right…”

“Well…” Lorraine trailed off. She slumped on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know.”

George cocked his head to the side.

“Maybe you’re right.” Lorraine wondered, “Maybe it doesn’t make it alright to watch people just because everybody wants to.”

“I’m sorry I watched you.” George repeated.

“Maybe we should start over.” Lorraine suggested.

“Start over how?”

“Like this.” she began, “Hi. I’m Lorraine Baines. And who are you?”

“George McFly…?”

“It’s lovely to meet you, George McFly.”

“Nice to meet you, Lorraine Baines.”

A light flickered upstairs and lightly covered the downstairs living room. Through the light, George could see more of Lorraine’s face. She had curlers in her hair.

The light went out.

“What do you like to do?” she asked.

“Uh…” George thought aloud. “I like to write?”

“Write what? Romance novels?”

“No. Mostly science fiction.”

“Oh.”

“What kind of romances do you like?” George asked.

“Oh, I love all of them. I’m not picky.”

“Maybe I’ll have to write one for you.”

“You’d do that?!”

“Only if you don’t care if it’s terrible.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad.”

“You think?” George asked tentatively.

“Promise.” Lorraine confirmed.

The two fell into silence.

“Would you hold my hand?” Lorraine asked.

“What?” George replied.

“Would you hold my hand?”

“I…”

Lorraine’s hand plopped on George’s lap. George took her hand and gently held it.

“You know, you’re a weird boy, George McFly.”

“Is that bad?” He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to make of it.

To everyone at school, George’s weirdness meant getting picked on and being called a slacker. To Mr. Baines, George’s weirdness made him a nobody. To Mrs. Baines, George’s weirdness was something to pity.

“Oh, no. That’s what I like about you. Besides,” Lorraine admitted, “you’re not all that weird. You’re just…different.”

“Isn’t that the same as saying weird?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Can we turn on the light?” George asked.

“It’ll wake everyone up.”

George nodded.

“Besides, I look weird with my hair in curlers.”

“I don’t think you would look that weird.” George admitted.

“Really?”

“I’ve seen my mother with them, so you can’t look that weird. Just maybe a bit different from what you usually look.”

Lorraine giggled.

“Well, goodnight, George.” Lorraine stood up and made her way back to her room.

“Goodnight, Lorraine.” George replied.

#back to the future #bttf #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #bttf fic #asexual character #george mcfly #lorraine baines #sam baines #stella baines #sally baines #milton baines #toby baines #joey baines #decade: 1950s #fanfiction #ao3fic #ao3 #oneshot fic

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stefankarlfanblog · 2 years

Text

Big brother leaves home

Original article written for Dagblaðið on the 29th of May 1999, credited to þhs, photos credited to þók: https://timarit.is/page/2985006?iabr=on#page/n8/mode/1up

Actor Stefán Karl Stefánsson has just graduated from the Drama Academy. However, he is more experienced than many, as the theatrical bug took root in him in his early childhood. In the near future, two works in which he will play will be premiered. The Little Shop of Horrors in the Borgarleikhúsið, where he plays eight roles, and the solo play Thousand Island Sauce in Iðnó.

"My biggest dream was to become a fisherman. I hung down on the ridge all day long and day in and day out with the fishermen who sometimes allowed me to come out to sea with them, " says actor Stefán Karl Stefánsson when he is asked to think about his youth as he sits in the café down in Iðnó. "I even took a test (30 ton skipper's license) and spent a whole summer fishing with my friend Sigurður, who is now a shark fisherman in Australia. It was a great adventure. The sea has always attracted me too. I have long had the dream of being Robinson Crusoe for a short time, living on a tiny island out in the Baltic Sea with palm trees and screaming monkeys. “

Nuns in the snowball fight

Stefán Karl is a 24 year old from Hafnfjörður. He finds it wonderful to live in Hafnarfjörður and says he can not think of leaving, as Hafnarfjörður is his region.

For the first few years of his life, he lived in the old town but then moved to the suburbs where he had a view of the monastery. "We kids had a lot of contact with the nuns and often jumped over the wall to them, even though it was not allowed. We went and gave them chives and vegetables that we had grown in the schoolyards and instead gave us pictures of Jesus and rosaries. Then they sometimes played the guitar for us. "

Stefán says that the nuns were always happy. They went out in the yard on cold winter days and were in the snow like little girls. In the spring they played volleyball and football. He always thought it was so funny because it was not what people think of nuns in their free time. But when did he make the decision to be an actor?

"The decision was not made immediately but I was still always acting. I have pictures of myself at the age of four where I have stuffed myself with a pillow, have a ketchup bottle as a bottle of alcohol and I was playing a drunk. I was a very happy young child and sang and played for everyone who came to visit. At one point, I got into a conversation with my old elementary school teacher and said that I was naturally overactive as a child. "No, no, no," he said. "But you were very meticulous."

You're at the top of the world, you idiot!

"While my friends were learning to smoke, drink and ride, I took milk in a SodaStream bottle and buttered bread down to Hafnarijarður's theater to watch. I had tried to get into the theater company by showing different tricks to the chairman to show what I was capable of. It did not work because children were denied access. "

Stefán Karl says that he acted in all the school plays he came across. He played Nilsson the monkey, Arí (a little eight-year-old third child) and the ever-popular young doctor. When he was thirteen years old, a youth department was operated within the theater company for the first time. A play was staged called This is all nonsense, Snjólfur directed by Guðjón Sigvaldason. With that, the dream of joining the theater company became a reality.

"The following year, we worked with Davíð Þór Jónsson, who had made a breakthrough in the directing of Fúsi Froskagleypir a little earlier. Then we staged the play You are at the top of the world, you idiot!, where I played five teachers. That same year I played in Hrói Höttur in the older theater company and 'from that time I had no choice but to play, play and play. "Did you learn anything in this acting world?

"No, that's exactly the funny thing about it," says Stefán Karl and laughs. "I made many attempts to learn something general, but nothing worked. I did badly in the 10th grade and then went to the Vocational School. I left after one semester because there was so much to do in the theater company. I started in computer science, went to Flensburg, to the Vocational School in Hafnarfjörður but gave up everywhere for the same reason. " In 1994, Stefán Karl got a job on Television voicing for a puppet in Stundin okkar. Then in the autumn he got to play an extra in the Áramótaskaup, which was directed by Guðný Halldórsdóttir. With that, his fate was decided.

Played Sigurður G.Tómasson

"It was Skaupið where things went wrong," says Stefán Karl. "I even played in one episode that was completely banned." Why did everyone go crazy again?

"It was made fun of too many things. Ólafur G. Einarsson. It seemed like a long way off when President Vigdis was shown ordering a pizza and saying that we were mocking our head of state. But, of course, we were then sharing the pizza craze that was sweeping the country. I find this a shining example for the Icelandic nation; what we always think we're but we are so completely humorless often. "

Guðný then asked Stefán Karl to take on some speaking roles in Skaupið. He says that he was shaken by the bones over it, but found it indescribably wonderful to play against Bessi Bjarnason, Gísli Rúnar and Edda, Eggert Þorleifsson and other such actors. Along with all the actors he found funny, these people were idols of his. He got to play with the national team and he remembers his roles well.

"I played Sigurður G. Tómasson, Einar Thoroddsen wine taster and made an attempt to play Páll Óskar. Last but not least, I then played the man who could not sing the national anthem. Sang the Icelandic national anthem to the tune of When the Robbers Came to Cardamom Town. That scene was banned. I still have photographs of it at home and I would like to have it on tape, but it has probably been deleted from all films, "says Stefán Karl and coughs terribly. "This is smoking. It is naturally absurd to be an actor and a smoker as the voice is the actor's means of livelihood. As Gunnar Eyjólfsson said in his speech at our graduation, it should be a condition of admission to the Drama Academy not to smoke. Smoking should also be a reason for expulsion. Although I have become addicted, I agree with him in many ways. "

The best year of my life

The entrance exam for the Drama Academy was taken by Stefán Karl in 1995 and he got into the first attempt. It is a condition to be 19 years old and have a good command of the Icelandic language, in addition to which you should be able to read the material in two other languages. It stood at least in the application.

"I almost had no good knowledge of any language, but still managed to deal with it," says Stefán Karl. "I also think that if you have sincerity and acting ability, that's what matters." "These are the best years of my life," say many experienced actors today. "To be in an environment where you get time to think your way around and look at yourself. For me, it was great. I was also incredibly lucky with my class

We are 8 individuals who all aim to become actors and we become like a big family. Something comes up and people quarrel and are ashamed and embrace and love again. There is an exchange of good and bad as in all families, but usually it was just good with us. Now the graduation is over and it's hard to break away from this solid form. So much has changed. It's like a big brother leaving home. Nothing is the same. "

Is your group no less protected than previous year groups where you have acted so much outside of school? "Acting school students have always been able to get exemptions for acting outside of school. The reason we got into the discussion was that so many of us from one class did this. When we got up, it did us good. I am also in favor of people being allowed to play, as long as it does not come down to school. "

For everyone who has flown

Now Stefán Karl has graduated with his schoolmates. Their graduation project, Krákuhöllin, has received a lot of attention and Stefán says that there has not been a similar attendance at the Student Theater for decades. The graduating students are happy with the idea of being able to hold Lindarbær until the end of June so that they can continue to show the piece. "It is based on an agreement reached between the Minister of Finance, who directs Statistics Iceland, and the Minister of Education, who controls us. At the moment, the Ministry of Finance is doing its job, but the Ministry of Education is not doing it. This must all be stranded on some housekeeper who hires and has hired a contractor to start work on June 1st.

Stefán Karl is back in Iðnó, but last summer he played there in Waiter in the soup, a work that has also been well received. In the near future, there will be a premiere of a solo play that he used at the Drama Academy. "We are working on an individual project in the third year of my studies and I asked Hallgrím Helgason to write a work for me. We decided to let the work take place in an airplane and a Thousand island sauce was created. Hallgrímur then submitted the play to a play competition here in Iðnó and we came in second place. It will now be shown in the Hádegisleikhúsið under the direction of Magnús Geir Þórðarson. "

Getting in touch with the sadist

For now, Stefán says he hasn't started to think much about the future. The little shop of horrors will premiere in just a few days and there he will play 8 roles. Including the role of the sadistic dentist that Laddi played so memorably at Héma that year. Stefán doesn't use the same wig and palate that Laddi used, since his character creation is very different. He goes on to say that it is not difficult to get in touch with the sadist himself: “We are more or less sadistic. What is teasing, for example, other than low-level sadism? ”When Stefán Karl is asked about the future, he says he still lives with his parents, but this autumn he intends to move to his own home. The umbilical cord breaks late in his case, but now he is holding out in the cruel world.

"I also have a lot of dreams that I want to make come true. For example, I would like to create something with music and humor. Although new and new entertainers appear here in Iceland, they are all the same. Stand-up. The bands are also all about some variation of Greifabönd. I feel like something is missing and I want to do something about it. Not just falling into the ruts of the others but creating my own. "

#stefan karl stefansson #stefan karl #stefán karl #stefán karl stefánsson #personal life #1999 #little shop of horrors (1999)#1000 island sauce (2000)#Þú ert í blóma lífsins fíflið þitt! (1990)#hrói höttur (1990)#þetta er allt vitleysa snjólfur! (1988)#fúsi froskagleypir (1985)#áramótaskaup #stundin okkar #waiter in the soup (1998)#krákuhöllin (1999)

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ramblingnerdsposts · 1 year

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First rambling of account! This will be about one of the D&D campaigns I am currently in, a Curse of Strahd game. I am just super excited about it, with the character drama and development possible! Before I go further with the rambling, let me present the cast of this campaign really quickly: we have our DM, my character, the walking Castlevania reference known as Adelhelm Van Helsing, a Hexblade Warlock, an anthropologist wizard called Cassini, an excitable but naive tiefling, our bard Eri, a young woman with mysterious origins and a peculiar way of seeing the world, the human fighter Sarrith, a gruff woman haunted by a mysterious shadow, a Kender cleric named Hope Lost, a cynical woman who only has her faith to rely on, and the dhampir rogue Deryth, a professional conman that is really hard to read. (This is my reading of the characters, so if you find another description of them it might differ).

Anyway, for this ramble I’ll talk about my boy Adelhelm. He’s a bit of a complicated guy. His family, the Van Helsing, have made a deal with the Raven Queen generations ago to become monster hunters. It’s the family business to hunt vampires, liches, fiends and demons. It’s pretty much all he knows too, and because of this he lacked friends growing up, only having his family as people he cared about. Then, one night, he comes back home to find most of his family massacred, his sister and father gone, the library containing the knowledge of hundreds of his ancestors now turned to ash. He learns with the help of his family’s employees that vampires attacked and that Strahd was likely the one behind it. He is now in Barovia, trying to put an end to Strahd and avenge his family, while also trying to find where his sister and father ended up.

So, in terms of psychology, Adelhelm feels insane pressure to carry on his family’s legacy, as he’s pretty much the only one left who can do it, while also grieving the loss of the only people he has ever cared for and feeling guilt for his absence during the massacre. In short, Adelhelm is not exactly happy, and he’s more kept alive through sheer hatred and drive than anything else. He also has a really hard time really opening up to anybody, preferring to take on his problems by himself.

Now, for recent events, the party has fought a bunch of living trees and kicked their asses, and they slept under Leomund’s tiny hut with a new person that Adelhelm doesn’t trust very much. During the night, Sarrith took Deryth’s coat from him and ended up keeping it for a while, hinting at feelings between the two, while Adelhelm got cuddled by Cassini during the night (the wholesome kind of cuddles). And he actually liked the physical contact. So he’s confused, he’s developing feelings for Cassini, though even with prodding from Eri he didn’t admit to it. He was awkward for a bit and tried to keep his distance, but eventually with convincing from the bard, he decided to apologize for staying away from Cassini, which she accepted, then he said in an indirect manner that he wouldn’t mind it happening again. You know, romance subplot stuff.

But in Adelhelm’s mind, a lot was going on. He realized through the night that despite his annoyances with her (she tends to ask a LOT of questions), he cares for her. A lot. More than a friend. And he also realized he cares about the others. And he is TERRIFIED by that prospect. Getting close to people again is a risk. A risk that what he went through with his family’s death could happen again. And he does not want that. So now Adelhelm is torn and has a choice to make. He either pushes them away and becomes alone again, to wallow in his own misery, or he tries to open up to them and make new friends and maybe find love, but takes the risk of Strahd or another undead taking these people away from him too. And he does not know what to do.

If you stayed until the end, thanks for reading my rambling! There will be more in the future, on both this campaign, the other one and stuff like video games and anime I enjoy. Until then, later!

#dungeons and dragons #curse of strahd #my characters #character development #ramblings #romance #Adelhelm Van Helsing #ttrpg #storytelling #story time #monster hunters #castlevania #A whole lot of castlevania stuff #nerdlife #nerd explains #nerd rambling

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ablogwithoutacause · 4 months

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Feeling alive again. But once again, ridiculous. Feeling like an uphill battle is coming. Yet, this time i have all the ammunition to keep battling until my opponent (the former self) is dead, or at least under control.

Sitting at the Team-member Dining Room in September i thought of my ex-wife. I thought of how she often struggles fighting off negative thoughts of her past that haunt her. I had my headphones in listening to Bob Marley, (btw his movie came out today. Magnificent marketing i must say, he preached about love. When is the day most think about love… ha ha ha Feb 14.) anyways, in the song Running Away… he says something that lead me to write the following. I’m not saying she tried running away, bur if anyone has ever tried it before, just know it’s impossible.

I was going to throw this folded paper while clearing out papers from my Jeep. Interestingly enough, it was the spanish print mentioning Red Rock that stopped me, made me look at the paper, and remembered what it was.

For many weeks I was confused, but everything hidden must come to light. I found out about this beautiful… marvelous, magnificent thing called NO CONTACT. The girlies are supporting each other all over social media. Baking anniversary cakes. Celebrating their accomplishments of cutting contact with their former significant others… half of the comments are of people sharing what day/month they’re in. The other half are girls saying “ugh, i relapsed” “i contacted him”. Knowing some of those girls are doing it for good… makes me chuckle a bit. Because whoever they cut off from contact… somehow still lives rent-free in their mind. What’s the point of this? Was Kendrick Lamar wrong in saying “They say conversation, rule a nation, I can tell but I could never right my wrongs 'Less I write it down for real, P.S”

In the following verse Drake ends it with saying they say communication save relations…

So… if conversation, communication, is key in ruling nations, saving relations. What’s the point in this no contact that’s become the new fad? Have men really hurt women so much to the point they need self validation from theirselves that bad? To the point where all they have is their guarding of the self that they’d rather give up communicating to fix things? I truly don’t blame them. For generations men have been abusive, con-artist, and selfish. It’s sad. Knowing i did it to my ex-wife. Pushed her into this no contact. Little does she know the growth I’ve been accomplishing since everything happened has been humbling. But as humbling as it’s been, it’s been rewarding. This is my Nebuchadnezzar going crazy for 7 years. God is holding my hand waiting for my acknowledgment of his power. Just like Nebuchadnezzar, allowing me to experience it all. From being homeless, to being pushed out and humiliated by family. I rode the wave, I held on to that palm tree during the hurricane… it’s all coming together now. I have my own place. Today. On the day the Bob Marley (my new favorite artist since last year.) movie was released. God’s love allowed me to finally have a place to live in. I’ll slowly make it a home. I’ll slowly bring the warmth. Through decorations and an expansion of clientele. I hope pretty soon, to have a special someone who i miss, make appearances. I’m sure she’ll love the analog quirks of this oven as much as i do.

What makes a home a home? It’s love. It’s safety.

The memories created in the home. On the first day, the closet rack fell on my arm giving be a pretty serious bruise. Instead of getting mad, i laughed it off. Como dice el dicho “El que se enoja, pierde.”

I respect your decision to hop on the no contact. I can’t be mad at the tire swing for hitting me, if I’m the reason it’s violently swinging. It’ll be like getting mad that my popcorn burned, when i put the pizza setting on the microwave instead of popcorn. It’s easy for me to feel like you saying we’d come into contact again in the future isn’t really going to happen, when you’re left alone with your emotions in silence. In solitude. It’s easy to panic and not see the light at the end of the tunnel.

This looks like such a typical cowboy hut. In dire need of a Victorian era mademoiselle wearing a bonnet and colonial dress. Willing to churn butter and bake goods, while the cowboy is out rustling cattle and trading fur for spices. Or fabricating furniture in the front of the house. Perhaps sharpening tools, or in this case, shaving all the prickly pear bearded men of the desert.

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