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honestgrins · 3 years

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Can you write a Klaroline drabble where Caroline shows up in NOLA and shocks everyone but maybe Kol or Katherine when she says she's Klaus's wife? Cannon Caroline not original.

I Heard a Rumor

The club was filled with people and the chaos of a Friday night. Klaus preferred to avoid the rush of tourists, but Marcel kept the VIP lounge to a more tolerable set even during peak hours - usually.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Janet was hanging over the balcony to watch the crowds below, none too subtly pushing her ass back toward him. As one of the humans on staff to provide a live blood source, she was perfectly amiable to Klaus. He’d even become something of a regular customer for her given his penchant for the tinge of bourbon in her taste. However, it seemed she took the friendly flirtation of their transactions to heart, and she was testing his patience for more.

Unfortunately for her, his patience was wearing thin. With a barely polite grimace, he downed the rest of his drink and made to stand. “It’s a bit rowdier than I like, love, so—”

She gave a rapturous giggle, only to fall into his lap and sprawl across him. “I like that you call me ‘love,’” she murmured, her mouth clumsy against his ear. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you how much I like it.”

Rolling his eyes, Klaus was ready to speed out of there without bothering to set her back on her feet. The only thing that kept him in his crowded seat was the biting and all too familiar voice coming from behind him.

“Sorry, love, he won’t be available to accept whatever appreciation you have in mind.”

Both surprised — though for very different reasons — they turned to see Caroline Forbes facing them with a pageant-ready smile and murder in her eyes. She was stunning. Klaus couldn’t help a grin despite his earlier annoyance, and his brow arched in challenge. “Hello, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

Her jaw shifted almost imperceptibly to the left, but his companion didn’t seem to sense the rising tension as a threat. “Who the hell are you?”

Just like that, Caroline’s smile turned sharp with her fangs on full display. “I’m his wife, and you’re in my seat.”

The club was home to any number of vampires who heard her perfectly over the music, and more than a few froze at the sudden silence coming from him. The Klaus Mikaelson they knew would have reacted instantly, either with murder or some other violence, and they all seemed to wait for the ensuing mayhem. Even Janet finally grasped the discomfort of the moment, and she extricated herself from his lap with all the delicacy a human could manage. “I’ll just— Yeah, bye.”

Whatever show the club was waiting for, Klaus had more pressing concerns. “Shall we continue this interesting discussion at home?” he asked, though they both knew it wasn’t a question. Gently gripping Caroline’s arm, he flashed them back to the manor. He heard Kol and Rebekah meandering somewhere, and Elijah was likely on the premises as well. With that in mind, he brought her to the privacy of his studio and its soundproofing spell. Wisely, she waited until the door was shut to yank her arm free with a disgruntled huff. He merely smiled as he went to pour them some blooded wine. “That was quite the display you gave, sweetheart,” he said lightly, handing her a glass. “I have to admit: I didn’t see it coming.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, setting aside the drink without indulging. His lips pursed; it was an excellent vintage, yet he was more perturbed at her outright refusal of his hospitality. Perhaps this wasn’t their usual spat to be easily resolved. Proving just that, she seemed truly distraught. “You promised to leave Mystic Falls, that my life was my own.”

“It is. I haven’t stepped foot in Virginia since that day.” Brow furrowed, Klaus felt an urgent need to reassure her. “I understand you need time to accept what I’m offering, and I am prepared to wait however long it takes. What on earth made you believe I’m encroaching on that promise?”

Last he heard, she wasn’t even in the States. They did chat by phone every so often, and when she’d mentioned a tour abroad, he had offered a list of his various estates that would be available to her should she wish. It was the caretaker of his dacha outside of Moscow who alerted him to her softening boundaries. He certainly had no intention of making her regret the change, let alone whatever caused this latest upset.

Watching him with suspicion, Caroline apparently wasn’t sure of his intentions at all. “Seriously? It wasn’t bad enough I ran into the stalkers you have ‘looking out for me’ in every city, but the one time I take you up on borrowing a place, you have the staff literally bowing to me. I wrote it off as a cultural thing at first, then I heard the whispers.”

“Though I refute your accusations of stalking, I will admit to warning some friends and enemies you are not to be trifled with in your travels. As for Dmitri, I merely asked him to welcome you as an honored guest, which you are.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms in defiance. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t welcoming me as an honored guest. I overheard him chatting with his wife about meeting ‘the new mistress of the house.’”

Klaus shrugged, unconcerned. Satisfied the situation wasn’t more dire, he allowed himself to relax on his sofa, daring to pat the spot next to him. Caroline remained unmoved, and he rolled his eyes. “Perhaps the nature of your significance was lost in translation. You’re the one who came to my town and introduced yourself as my wife.”

“Because half of Russia thinks I am your wife!” With an indignant stamp of her foot, she seemed ready to tear her hair out — but she frowned more sedately at the blankness on his face. “You didn’t know?”

Shaking his head, he honestly had no idea. “What happened, Caroline?”

Finally taking her drink, she dropped to the couch beside him with an embarrassed groan. “I stepped into exactly one vampire club, and people practically threw themselves out of my path. I assumed it was more of the same from you, until the guy I was flirting with was suddenly yanked away by a friend. He went white when he was told my husband would tear out his intestines and shove them down his throat.”

“A bit uncreative, that.”

“Klaus!”

“I don’t know,” he insisted, his frustration growing to match hers. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, he genuinely had no idea why anyone would think him married. Though he had many hopes and plans involving Caroline in his future, matrimony was a human tradition he’d never once considered. “Truly, this didn’t come from me.”

Sighing, she leaned back into the couch and nursed her wine, defeated. “Oh. Then, sorry for cockblocking, I guess.”

Klaus smirked at that, and he turned to face her more fully. “Are you really?” The lightest blush stained her cheeks, and he knew she was biting her tongue at the faint scent of her blood. Unable to resist, he reached his hand to rest on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing into her hair. “New Orleans is a small town at heart, love, and you effectively announced yourself as my wife in the middle of town square.”

“To be fair, I thought you had told the whole world, and I wasn’t going to be the only one not getting laid because of it.”

“Ah.” He was torn between a wince and a laugh, so he settled for another sip of his drink instead. His other hand continued to massage her scalp, and he felt the tension slowly loosening within her. “I never meant to restrict your choices,” he promised. “Tempt you into choosing me, absolutely, but not like this.”

Finally, she relaxed into him, slouching until he could tuck her against his side. Some doubt lingered, though, he could tell. Perhaps it was a sign of growth on both their parts that he didn’t take offense and that she trusted him enough be honest. “But who else would want to spread a rumor like that about us? It’s not like anyone benefits if we really did do the Vegas wedding thing.”

His mouth twitched, and he flashed to the door, barely sparing a brief kiss to the top of her head. He tore it open, only for her to slam it shut again. Pressing her back to the wood, she kept a heavy glare on him. “Put those away, we both know you’re not going to bite me.”

With a reluctant growl, he forced his fangs to recede. “It’s not your blood I want at the moment, and it’s certainly not pleasure I seek.”

“Yeah, ‘cause revenge isn’t a pleasure for you,” she answered snidely. “Tell me what’s going on before you kill the blabbermouth.”

“This is something I have to do myself, sweetheart.”

“Hi, I might want to help! They screwed with both of us here, not just you.”

A half-smile formed without permission, the fondness he felt for her softer than he was comfortable acknowledging at the moment — especially when someone had proven all too willing to use their connection against him. “Few in New Orleans know about you, let alone your...effect on me. Only two would maliciously speak out of turn about that. And just one of those would dare to bind you to me forever, lest I be challenged to follow through.”

Her face was an open book to him, and he hoped she never lost that human nature to share every feeling she had as it happened. Confusion, calculation, consternation, they all boiled down to an annoyed scrunch of her nose. “Your family knows I exist, at least, I think so. I never actually met Elijah, but you two seem to have gotten over whatever grudge match was going on at home.” He gave a brief nod, fascinated at the determined way she thought it through. “I also doubt you told him about your fling with a baby vampire. Kol and Rebekah, on the other hand, probably didn’t need to be told.”

“Bekah still likes to complain that we defiled the entire wood within earshot,” he muttered, not that he could be particularly aggrieved at the memory of a sunny afternoon. “And you are no mere fling, Caroline.”

That lovely blush rose again, and she looked anywhere but at him as he crowded her against the door. Gently brushing the curtain of her hair back from her face, Klaus waited for her to gather herself. After a deep breath, she finally met him with a half-hearted glare. “Which Rebekah loathes, so she’s definitely not daring you to marry me by telling everyone else you already have.”

Silently agreeing, he hadn’t lowered his hand from where it settled on her cheek, and a thrill came when she leaned into it. “Kol, however, enjoys sowing chaos wherever he goes.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That sounds on brand, and I played right into it with this stupid payback stunt.”

“We always did share a flair for the dramatic.”

The laugh built in her throat before it burst out, filling the air between them until they were both smiling like fools. Her hands had curled into his shirt, one at his hip and the other over his heart. The slight tug of fabric was tempting, but he still kept his tentative distance. “I promised you time, and I meant it.”

Biting her lip, Caroline nodded. She didn’t let go of his shirt, either. “Does it have be all or nothing right now?” It was half a whisper, the barest hint of whine in her voice endearing. “Because you smell really good and it’s been a long time thanks to your stupid brother, and I might have missed you more than I realized, so can you just kiss me alrea—”

There would be consequences from the rumors of their marriage, and more than just those Kol would face. Caroline would be a target, either for those seeking Klaus’s favor or those out to destroy him. Her presence or absence from his daily life would be a noted occurrence, and more rumors would arise should they be seen with others instead. New pressures would exert force on the evolution of their relationship, something he had measured in decades and centuries without such attention. But they could deal with those consequences in time, together.

Later.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #to rely on the kindness of strangers #anon anon #fic: i heard a rumor

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bitch-its-me-alv · 4 years

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He is mine, bitches

Male Marinette! Male Damian!

(Next You can’t touch what’s mine, bitch)

Damian did not have a type, he was a ex assassin, trained to eliminate useless impulses such as attraction, or romanticism of his person.

He didn't have a type, he didn't have ... he didn't ... he…

Oh my god, did that guy just threw a motorcycle? Damian had to get his number, his name, something!

Maybe not like robin, that would be clearly irresponsible and unprofessional.

Judging by his outfit, he was at gotham college, the same one his civilian alter ego was in. That was convenient, he could approach like Damian wayne.

Was Damian better than Robin? Who would attract him the most? Would he even like Damian or Robin to put his tongue down his throat?

Wait, he was talking to him!

“I need you to take me to the hospital, I just threw my motorcycle at those thugs, could you?“ Omg, he was even more gorgeous up close, big, slanted eyes of blue, like the cosmos or something magical. Before Robin could answer him Red Hood intervened.

“Don't worry man, our Robin here will be happy to take you after your statement.” Red hood slapped his back.

The boy was even taller than Jason, Damian wasn't sure if he would survive the trip to the hospital on his motorcycle.

Robin momentarily emerged from his stupor, after red hood left, maybe hood thought it was bothering him, Robin was not comfortable with civilians after the fight, he was more fighting, hitting and then leaving the disaster for the police.

“If you're hurt, we could go first to the hospital” Robin said.

“Oh no actually, my friend Chloe was rushed to the hospital after the gas of fear paralyzed her. I am worried that when she recovers she would sue the entire floor.”The bluenette smiled

Robin just nodded, praying that none of his brothers would notice the blush under the mask, or worse, Batman might noticed.

On the way to the hospital, Robin felt the physical difference between him and Marin. It almost felt like he was being hugged by Marin.

They arrived in record time, Robin had a slight disappointment in his chest, but he crushed her, reminding himself that he would meet him later as Damian.

Marin got off the bike in front of the hospital. “Thanks for the trip robin, maybe you should go in too, that blow seems serious.” Marin touched the wound that went through his mask.

Robin didn’t blush, no one can prove it.” Things like these happen all the time, don't worry.”

“Well, I would say I hope to see you soon, but I don't think that's very good. So try not to hurt your gorgeous face.”

Leaving Robin flushed, he turned around to enter the hospital. Chloe would go crazy when he told her he flirted with a vigilante.

➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞

If someone asked Marin why he had moved to Gotham city, he would tell the easy lie. After so long as a traveler with his nonna he had decided that he would finish his education in a normal and established way. And since his uncle Jagged and his aunt Penny owned a condo in the city, it was nothing suspicious.

Yeah, it is not as if the rest of his family is not completely legal and they are also conveniently around Gotham.

And if he had to hide some welcome gifts that his godparents and godmothers gave him like, a personalized flamethrower, a carnivorous plant as a pet, or exploding mallets. No one else would know, because he was not very interested in taking people home anyway.

After many close calls like Adrianna Agreste, or Lian Rossi, he did not want to rush into relationships.

But Damian was so cute, maybe he could do an exception for him. I mean, when he practically hit his chest with that stoic expression it was nice, but when Marin made him blush it was even better.

Marin was very good at flirting but not very good at getting compliments. So after seven weeks hanging out as friends, Damian discovered that he could hit him back with compliments.

Damian was in the ninth cloud, Marin was more than he had anticipated, and he couldn't love it more. He was so perfect, and that's why he had tried twice as hard to hide it from his family, he didn't want them to scare Marin away. But his plan was threatened by his very annoying and best friend, Jon.

“I seriously can’t believe it Damian, you got yourself a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me, i’m so upset.”

“Don't be dramatic kent, he is not my boyfriend ... yet. And if I did not tell you it was so that there were no rumors that would reach my family.”

“Damian, it doesn't matter, you got yourself a boyfriend and besides he is hellaMari12, I can never forgive you, meet that bonbon and save it for yourself, very bad Damian.”

“What nonsense are you babbling kent? hellaMari12? Bonbon? Do you want my katana on your face?”

Jon showed him his cell phone, in a very famous instagram account, where in all the photos marin appeared, in a very specific one, with canvas pants, and a sweatshirt that showed his abs.

Damian couldn't control the blood that ran up his face, omg that photo was so hot. But a big part of himself was not distracted, this photo was public and had three million likes. His possessiveness made him frown, he was still not her boyfriend, he did not have to be angry, and even if he were, he had no right to claim him.

Damn, why did Marin have to be so attractive and kind? Now he not only had competition in Gotham, but also throughout the internet, excluding all the places he had been and assuming he had no suitor abroad.

Damian would have to hurry, because if he got distracted he could lose, and Damian Al-Ghul Wayne never lost.

➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞

Marin was nearing the end of his patience. If damian was still so nice to him and didn't kiss him, Marin could hit something or kiss him until his soul was taken out.

With his attractive face in a constant frown, his jade eyes always fulminant, his olive skin so shiny and smooth. His always so neat black hair and his expensive cologne… Damn Damian why don't you just kiss Marin already?

That night Damian and Marin had arranged to do a marathon on how to train your dragon, because the green-eyed man had never seen such a work of art.

If Damian hadn't kissed him before the end of the first movie, Marin would. He had already arranged everything, hid the suspicious gifts, threw the dirty clothes into a closet that he had never opened before, shook the sofa. He put flavoring ... everything so that the atmosphere was perfect.

While they sat on the couch eating sour treats, with damian criticizing the characters' unrealistic choices. Damian let the sugar spread across his lips, unaware of himself as he concentrated on the movie.

Hiccup was about to feed the dragon when Marin couldn't resist any longer.

“Hey Damian, I'm about to kiss you. You can walk away if you don't want it”

Damian had recorded the question, had heard and understood it. But I couldn't believe it, so I just nodded hoping it wasn't a hallucination.

It wasn't, the hallucinations weren't that perfect.

They were completely lost in their kisses, their environment disappeared as more and more time passed kissing, tousling the hair of the other, writhing to be closer together although that was impossible.

Someone's phone started ringing and suddenly the world was more than just the two of them. Damian was on Marin's lap, his arms under his shirt, and his legs wrapped in a possessive grip on his hips. Marin had one hand buried in Damian's midnight hair, and another dangerously low on his back.

They admired each other for five long seconds, until their phone rang in unison. They did not separate, they had been waiting for this for a shameful time, they could not lose it now that they had started it.

From Damian's phone were notifications from his brothers, asking about his absence hours before the patrol. He reply quickly informing them not to expect him and not to try to track him down. With a couple of threats in the family chat to let them know it was him, he turn off the phone and throw him away from where he was sitting.

On Marin's phone there were a couple of messages from chloe letting him know that if Damian made his boyfriend he would have to pass the blonde test, or she wouldn't approve it. While in the chat of their rouge godparents and godmothers, they would message each other about an assault they would do together soon.

Marin answered chloe briefly, and ignored his uncles, there were things that he had to turn a blind eye to.

“So ... do you want to stay here at night?”Marin gently rubbed the spot where his left hand was, giving Damian nice chills.

“Had you anticipated this Dupain-cheng? Did you feel lucky?” Damian didn't take his eyes off his lips, making Marin blush slightly.

“I was confident, don't think I hadn't noticed how suddenly all our dates involved sweating and taking off my shirt.”

Damian shut him up with a kiss, not because he was his boyfriend he was going to allow herself to lose to him.

The night passed with many kisses, hickies on the neck and under the clavicles. His words were lost somewhere between four and five in the morning. Falling exhausted on the sofa one on the other, with the warm sensation in their bodies of knowing that their love was reciprocated.

When the sun raised Damian was ecstatic, he could already hit all those with romantic intentions towards Marin. He could kiss him without being rejected, but… He didn't really know much about romantic relationships, but He’d find out along the way.

Marin was also full of excited and happy energy, fluttering around his kitchen and taking photos of everything as souvenirs for his future anniversaries.

After many signs on the sofa with Damian, and of him just being art lying on the sofa. Damian decided that everyone on the internet should know that Marin was not single.

With a simple photo published in Marin's account, with both disheveled and illuminated by the rising sun. The eyes of both seemed clearer than they were.

In the description Damian did not try very hard, with a simple he is mine, bitches settled, and let his followers burn while Marin danced in the kitchen and Damian tried not to get weaker for that boy.

#maribat #male marinette #daminette #gay cause it's june #who i'm kidding it's gay cause i wanted

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

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Puppy Scratches

Summary: Virgil has always avoided getting any sort of injury, scared of infection among other things. Now his soulmate has started scratching words onto his skin from the flowers appearing and Virgil has no clue how to stop it or respond.

Warnings: Sort of self-harm

/\/\

Virgil did not like injuries, especially not of the level that would scar. They could get infected, and those stories of people losing limbs were not pure fiction. He did everything he could to avoid getting any injury, despite the encouragement people gave to at least get one.

His soulmate got injured enough for both of them. There wasn't any concern in Virgil's mind that he would recognise his soulmate if they ever met.

What was concerning, if not terrifying, to Virgil was when the scars got extremely pale, and started forming words. Apparently the lack of him getting scars had given the world opportunity to make his soulmate believe he didn't exist.

He spent a week freaking out, rambling about the scars if his friends ever gave him the opportunity. His soulmate getting hurt as much as the flowers suggested had always been concerning, but now it couldn't be anything but deliberate... That was the worst thing Virgil could imagine.

“Can I see these pale flowers you're talking about?” Logan asked, interrupting another ramble where Virgil was torn between trying to respond and the dangers that could cause. Infections were dangerous, and how would he even be able to write something using a knife?

Virgil blinked at his friend before rolling the side of his hoodie and top up. One of the questions had been written over his side in the pale flowers. “Sure, here they're asking for me to exist.” He muttered, thankful they were at his house when the request was made.

It was odd to have Logan move closer, pushing at the hoodie a little more, frowning. “I know better than to say you were lying about those flowers, but have you realised they are no longer visible?” He asked after a moment, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“But- but they were scars. Scars don't disappear do they?” The thought of flowers disappearing astounded Virgil. He'd assumed, as did basically everyone that flowers only appeared for permanent scars, things that wouldn't heal any further.

“I'll have to do some research tonight, but I would theorise that injuries that scab over, even ones that wouldn't leave a permanent scar, will still show up if the scratch is enough to, say momentarily draw blood perhaps.” Logan stood again, fetching his notebook of things to research from his briefcase. “If that is the case, would you be willing for me to scratch a reply onto your skin? I could easily do so in a sanitary way and provide plasters to ensure the wounds remain clean and heal rapidly. It would also reduce the fears you've been expressing that your soulmate might continue to harm themself in an attempt to gain a response.”

Virgil nodded along with the explanation, trying to think through what his friend was suggesting and how it could work. “If you're the one to do the scratching then yeah. I can cope with that I think. Just don't make any deep cuts or anything.”

Whomever his soulmate was, Virgil didn't want any harm to come to them, especially not self inflicted as the words must have been.

/To Remus\

Remus had loved the adventures he'd managed to find over his lifetime, whether they ended in injury or merely in some new discovery he could chase after later. It was something that made him feel alive, wild and excited. He wished he could share the adventures with his soulmate when they met but after years of no flowers appearing against his skin, he was beginning to question if they were out there at all.

It took some of the fun out of getting into ridiculous situations to realise he might not have someone to share the stories with in a few years.

That had been when Remus started paying more attention to Roman an Janus. They'd met in school and had been fairly inseparable as soulmates ever since, but that wasn't what interested Remus. He wanted to know how the scars and flowers worked, whether any would disappear and if there was even a faint chance he could actively try to reach out for his soulmate without touring the world.

He managed one week to scratch Roman's cheek, thankfully on the side that hadn't already been covered in flowers. They'd been play-fighting and it had just happened, but it gave Remus a clear view of where the flowers might appear on Janus, regardless of how covered he attempted to be.

Sure enough, instead of the red tulips they claimed appeared for permanent scars Roman gained, there was a trail of pale pink flowers in the place of the scratch. Remus checked over the following weeks to see when it disappeared, and sure enough, long before the scratch had fully healed there were no flowers visible on Janus's face.

If Roman had known his plan after witnessing that, he'd have done everything he could to prevent it, to force Remus into therapy of some kind and keep him company for as long as possible. Whatever they say about twins having a connection was a lie of superstition and Remus happily traced over words on his skin with a needle until they'd actually scratched into it.

The pain and curiosity over if somehow he'd get a response had been enough to quiet the repeating thought that he had no soulmate or they'd hate him for doing this.

Two weeks passed after Remus had tried to write questions to his soulmate in scratches on his skin. He'd eventually come clean to Roman after a few unexpected hugs and attempts to battle because of some or other absurdity Remus had to share or figure out how to get to. He'd sat through the lecture and Janus's insistence on checking over the scratches with a pout.

You'd think that after all the injuries Remus had lived though the people closest to him would realise he knew how to keep wounds clean and safe. He just didn't always want to enough to miss out on a chance to climb suspension bridges and up onto rooftops.

He'd just gotten up, unbothered about getting dressed while grabbing breakfast and spotted flowers in the mirrors reflection.

There on his arm read “Puppy Village” in pale flowers, possibly lilac but Remus wasn't sure given how close to white the colour was. He now had a new quest to travel the country for, whatever his original intentions for asking if his soulmate existed was.

/Working with Puppies\

Months had passed since Virgil let Logan scratch the name of his workplace onto his side. They'd long since healed and his soulmate hadn't scratched anything else onto his skin, but Virgil still kept an eye out for any more flowers appearing.

He'd had some of the pale green ones appear on his wrists and forearms, as though his soulmate was playing with upset dogs with uncovered skin. They'd all faded with time and Virgil had mentally prepared a number of the lessons and explanations offered to people looking to buy or adopt a dog when they visited his centre.

Part of Virgil had hoped that soon after giving them a clue over where he'd be found someone with a scar on the left of their neck would walk in, introducing themselves as his soulmate. The reasonable side of his brain understood that even in America there could be plenty of places called 'Puppy Village' so even if his soulmate had decided to start trying to look for him, it would take them a while to find him.

Eventually he stopped checking the necks of customers as they came in, deciding to ignore any possibility that his soulmate might come. It was only upsetting Virgil to imagine who they might be and carry on getting no answers regardless.

“I'm here to get cuddles before I'm dragged back to dullville!” A man had tried to kick open the doors, despite them being automatic and already half opened by the time he reached them.

“I assume that means you only intend to help us look after the puppies for an afternoon before leaving town?” Virgil remarked, already moving around the counter.

Occasionally it would happen, generally families trying to decide if they should get a dog, or hoping to convince the kids just how much work and care goes in to having a pet. The occasional tourist wasn't unusual either, although then it would be dog owners from abroad missing their pets at home.

“Any dogs you need looking after... Did you know you have green flowers climbing up your neck?” The man leant far too close to Virgil looking at the flowers and showing off his neck at the same time.

“Have done for years. Kinda curious over the story behind it whenever I meet my soulmate.” Virgil shrugged off the concern, ignoring the scar he could also see as he led the man through to the kennels. “I'm Virgil one of the family for our animals. We treat them all as if they're our own pets until a family arrives to given them a home.”

The man was still trying to stay uncomfortably close to Virgil, looking around at the area, almost as much as he watched Virgil. “Wonderful way to keep them healthy. You know, my soulmate works somewhere called a Puppy Village. Scratched it on when I started to think I might not have any.” The words were deliberately spoken, a laser gaze directed at Virgil's face.

“Does that mean you have a large scar on the back of your calf?” Virgil immediately asked. He knew where all the flowers were on his body, and recognised this man was trying to figure out if they were soulmates. It definitely sounded like they could be.

He'd reached the end of the hallway before he realised the man had sat on the floor to roll up the pants he was wearing. “My right one yes. Got this awesome tattoo on the other and really wanna know how that's appeared on you?”

“Same place the patch I call moss. Logan said it is just a muddled patch, as though there are a lot of the flowers trying to layer up over each other. I guess it's because of how tattoos are done in layers or something.” Virgil muttered. He wasn't going to copy the action. “Get your pants on right, and we can go meet some of my favourite dogs. You need to know how to treat and act around dogs if we're going to be around each other.”

“Awesome, Remus and Virgil the best pairing together. Learnt to be calmer with dogs when I got into a few scraps with them. It got Roman to adopt that dog at least. My brother always was a sucker for a sob story and I definitely made it sound sorry.” Remus cackled, already jumping up again.

Virgil sighed, holding open the door to the kennels for their older dogs. “Glad to hear it. How long do I have you in town before we go to being pen-pals for a while?” He asked, not wanting to immediately let someone in if they'd disappear from his life soon, soulmate connection or now.

“Got a week and then I can get my office to transfer me here in no time. The boss has been looking for an excuse to get me out of there since I started calling him out for the harassment he attempted to do. Can't find an excuse to fire me with Janus on the watch, but also does not want me around.” Remus seemed excited at the plans, even when Virgil knew he had to be basically making it up as he went.

“Are you seriously talking about uprooting your life, just because you met me? Pretty sure anyone normal would want to get to know each other first.” Virgil was sceptical of the idea, but wasn't going to argue. He didn't like the idea of being cities or states away from his soulmate again after they'd just met.

Remus twisted around so much their noses were almost touching. “Is it uprooting if my main friends/ family will literally thank you for giving them a bit of a break from chaos and I can do my job as well from any of our offices? 'Sides, I haven't explored those caves on the lake edge yet and they are just screaming for exploration.”

“Or a cave in. Do you at least know how to get out of them? Or you know mind sharing the stories of the flower patches I'm covered in?” Virgil checked. He had wanted to know something about his soulmate's life with every patch of flowers that appeared. Now he was just a bit confused over how few there were, given Remus seemed set on chasing any impulse he had.

Remus bounced with the question, “Honey, I've been dreaming of sharing those stories with you all my life. Let's meet your dogs and I can start talking too.”

Life with his soulmate around was definitely going to be interesting.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #platonic analogical #background roceit #cw self harm #soulmate au

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some-lists · 4 years

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10 Documentary Series for the Wanderluster

If you’re sick of being stuck indoors and isolated from the rest of the world, you might find yourself binge watching travel documentaries just like me.

I’ve always loved traveling. I’ve been to a handful of places, but there’s so much more out there. These docu-series will make you want to get off your butt and hop on a plane ASAP. Of course, that’s not really an option in this pandemic, but these shows can offer a nice dose of escapism right in your living room.

These are just a few available to stream that I really loved. (Btw, most of these are about food. Because I love food.)

1. Somebody Feed Phil

I love this show. Everybody Loves Raymond creator Phil Rosenthal travels to some of the most beautiful locations around the world to try the best foods. He meets with locals, expats, and world renown chefs who show him the best local dishes and their culture. Phil isn’t the best food critic. Most of his commentary consists of, “Mmm, that’s good!” But his cheery, friendly demeanor makes for easy watching as he casually befriends locals in every international city he visits. Oh, and the theme song is killer.

Watch it on: Netflix

2. Street Food: Asia & Latin America

Get ready to be hungry! Made from the same people behind Chef’s Table, this series takes you to a different country in each episode. Street Food: Asia and Street Food: Latin America are actually listed separately on Netflix. But they are essentially two different seasons of the same show. You’ll meet local street chefs who’ve made their living cooking and selling their best comfort foods on the street. They share their stories of hardship, determination, sacrifice, joys, and successes. Each episode has close ups of every dish that will have you salivating.

Watch it on: Netflix

3. Gordon Ramsay: Uncharted

Season One of this National Geographic series is currently available on Disney Plus. We see chef Gordon Ramsay travel to some remote locations, where he not only learns about their local ingredients, but has to forage and hunt them himself. At the end of each episode, we see him face off with a famous chef from each region. It’s beautifully shot with some really breathtaking views of these amazing landscapes. We see the vast Sacred Valley of Peru, majestic glaciers of New Zealand, and tropical blue waters of Hawaii. Now, if only Disney Plus would release the second season.

Watch it on: Disney Plus

4. Down to Earth with Zac Efron

Down to Earth with Zac Efron is not just a feast for the eyes, but a series that will make you think. Zac Efron travels with his friend, Darin Olien, to learn about various methods of sustainable living. We learn about sustainable energy in Iceland, fresh water in France, and blue zone diets in Italy. They also take the time to explore and enjoy the best leisure activities and cuisine in each country.

Watch it on: Netflix

5. Conan Without Borders

Conan Without Borders is a segment of his talk show that is now available on Netflix (but only the first season). Of course, you can still watch more on YouTube, but those videos are cut into shorter segments. Conan’s buffoonery is put to good use as he travels to learn about other people and their countries. His shtick is the clueless, ignorant American abroad. It’s an honesty that’s rewarding, as he shows these countries in a light few Americans get to see. He’s hilarious in each episode as he accidentally (or not so accidentally) offends, but also learns from the locals in each country.

Watch it on: Netflix, YouTube

6. Travel Man: 48 Hours In...

Travel Man has had 10 seasons, and 7 (ish) of them are on Hulu. It’s a recent discovery for me, so I’m still making my way through the episodes. Richard Ayoade travels to a different city with a different celebrity for 48 hours. They do a lot of the typical things the average tourist would do. It features transportation, checking into a hotel (usually on the higher end), seeing the sites, and exploring different foods. Most of the celebrities who join him are British, so I’m not too familiar with them. It probably works better if you know who they are, but it doesn’t matter. Richard Ayoade’s dry humor makes each trip amusing regardless.

Watch it on: Hulu

7. Jack Whitehall: Travels with My Father

British comedian Jack Whitehall takes a belated gap year trip with his 70-something year old father. The stark contrast between their personalities make for a very interesting vacation. We go on a real ride with the two as we get to know them and as they grow from the experience. Jack is full of energy and definitely more open minded of the two, but we can also see why his father gets annoyed with him. He’s a big kid and, at times, spoiled. At first Jack’s father comes across as snobby and ignorant, but we learn to laugh at his biting humor and his efforts to connect with Jack. We also get a bit of a different view of each location. We visit eccentric temples in Thailand, watch trained rats search for mines in Cambodia, check out motocross skiing in Germany, and more.

Watch it on: Netflix

8. Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations

Seasons 7 and 8 of the late Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations can currently be viewed on Hulu. If you’re a humanitarian at heart, this one is for you. Anthony Bourdain is after truth. He’s not interested in commercialized tourist traps or filtered Instagram photo ops. He’s after the real place, the real people, and the real history. He visits disadvantaged populations around the world. He meets with locals, journalists, and humanitarians in each country. Their conversations are often about poverty, political corruption, and marginalization. But he also has some lighter missions as well. A trip to Naples in search of the real Italian food experience. A discovery of Croatian culinary greatness. A cook off in Tokyo between the world’s greatest chefs. What we see is not always pretty. Sometimes it’s truly upsetting. But sometimes it’s great too. Either way, it’s the truth. What Anthony Bourdain ultimately does is capture the heart of the people, something traveling tourists often overlook.

Watch it on: Hulu

9. Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner

I’m not a huge David Chang fan. I’ve only made it through one episode of Ugly Delicious. (It was the curry episode, because I love Indian food.) But I found Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner a much easier watch. It’s a lot more chill. There are only four episodes. (That helps.) He and a celebrity friend tour a different city, try the food, and just chat it up. This series focuses more on location and culture, rather than just the food itself. The personalities of his celebrity guests help provide color and humor to each episode. Kate McKinnon, as always, is a delight.

Watch it on: Netflix

10. Tales By Light

Tales By Light follows photographers around the world as they capture stunning works of art. This is a must see if you love art, especially photography. Watch humpback whales dance under water in Tonga, the colorful Festival of Holi in India, abandoned desert ghost towns of Namibia, and indigenous cultures of Australia. Season 3 is especially sobering. Photographer Simon Lister and UNICEF ambassador Orlando Bloom travel to Bangladesh to capture portraits of children in need. You’ll marvel at the beauty, but also cry for the less fortunate.

Watch it on: Netflix

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yessoupy · 3 years

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i think i have to unstan harry styles.

best weekend of my life (so far)

it's been a week [a fucking year] and I still haven't posted my review. at this point y'all know the show was awesome. hannah is posting her pics after a week straight of actually working (let's take up a collection to hire hannah to go to harry shows and produce exclusive content for us, what do you say?). after a week [a YEAR] away from the harrie commune all I can say is.... I don't know if I can continue on this way without it. i might have to stop altogether. [somehow, i’ve made due.]

after the last show of the 2018 tour I had such a fierce feeling that I'd missed out on something I would have really loved. there was nothing to do for it, since it was my sister's wedding day, so I moved on pretty quickly. but I also made the decision that for harry's next tour, I was going to go all out.

my dudes, what a way to ring in the new era. [and present me needs to interject here that i think i knew that something was going to go horribly wrong in 2020. even with tickets in hand to such faraway shows as phoenix, denver, and raleigh, i could NOT book flights or hotels as late as february. i knew about coronavirus in late december because i was traveling abroad and acutely aware of travel warnings about wuhan province. and in early february we had our mardi gras party and franny showed up kind of sick and i hugged her but cautiously, mentally cataloguing her symptoms. so when it finally happened i think i was just ... resigned. and that’s why i wasn’t as upset as i would have been if nothing had changed from the time i started writing this review.]

this kind of show always seemed like something that happened to other people. getting the actual tickets was rather stressful (though not as stressful an experience as others had...) but once everything shook itself out i couldn’t even think about the weekend or else I’d implode. thank god for @chasm2018‘s organizational abilities.

we missed a measles exposure at LAX by 2 days (bless). my first harrie commune™ experience of the weekend was riding the connections shuttle to pick up @papiermachecat at terminal 6 like she was a conquering hero (she is). we rode the connections shuttle to pick up @stylesinthewild and found a little table at starbucks in the baggage claim to wait for the bay area harries to arrive in their rented minivan full of goodies.

we piled in and hannah got us to our two hotel rooms, one with three queen beds, and somehow we got to the forum twice, once to buy pre-show merch and then the final time for the fine line show. we all dressed up and then took just ONE picture. one.

you know how the show went. i’m trying to cover ground that the squad hasn’t already posted [a YEAR AGO]

here is the note I DM'd to harry the next morning, which i think sums everything up nicely:

thank you for the show last night at the forum. I flew in from Houston and met up with friends from all over, only one of whom I'd gotten to hug in real life prior to yesterday. today we're sharing beds and toothpaste and fond memories. thank you for being you and bringing us all together. 💜

i don’t remember WHEN i sent it, maybe 3am, but later that day i took an uber to a vegan tattoo artist’s backyard studio to get a planned tattoo that @papiermachecat had sketched for me and my impulse tattoo of a fine line around my left wrist. while i was doing that, the squad finished up eating breakfast with other harries and then went to stand in the pop-up shop line.

you’ve heard the line stories. i fucking LOVE standing in a line for something because of the people you meet. in front of us we had a personal DJ who’d play what people wanted to hear and airdropped a picture of harry’s dick from WMYB. we’d break off in pairs to go to CVS or visit other people we knew in line. and this hasn’t been written about before, but one of those times hannah and i were walking around the block we saw some men standing by some cars near the entrance and we kind of stopped.... and i think at the same time realized who we were looking at ... and after looking around and realizing that no one else in the fucking line recognized jeff azoff hannah went in for the kill. we thanked him for taking such good care of harry, answered questions he had for us, thanked him again, i had the presence of mind at the end to tell him our names, and we took the pop-up shop merch menus that hadn’t been passed out to anyone yet, and then walked back to our spot in line silently, processing that moment. sometimes i’ll think about that conversation and get all warm and fuzzy thinking about that show and how well it went and how much LOVE there was for everything and harry and between all of us and it sustains me through a shitty, shitty pandemic day at work.

eventually we got through the line and got our merch and looked at all the things they had set up and after moving our reservation back we got to cafe habana to sit at a very familiar table and i took off my bandages to show my tattoos to everyone (to this day i regret not having the presence of mind to show jeff my brand new fine line tattoo, he would have loved it) and we ate and laughed and had the server take our picture and that’s probably what i miss most about the weekend, being in that place imbued with such silly meaning to us and all FEELING that gravity of where we were and being able to recognize it in each others’ eyes and smiles. perfect weather, amazing food, the best company.

the early morning saw our three queen room breaking up, and @papiermachecat left a single zyrtec in the middle of the room on the floor, bringing me to tears laughing even without her physical presence. @chasm2018 and i went to randy’s donuts (where we met up with @treatpeoplewithnice again) and GOD i want to eat donuts that good again.

it was sad to leave LA that afternoon, wearing my new tpwk oversized hoodie. it wasn’t the last time i was around a big crowd of people, wasn’t even the last concert i attended before all of this happened (that was in vienna on december 30), but it was the last time i was going to be full of unbridled joy. that weekend was the real ode to joy.

we’ll get back to it, it’s just going to take some time.

@stylesinthewild, @papiermachecat, @greeneyesharry & emily, @treatpeoplewithnice, @aggresivelyfriendly, and @chasm2018: fine line forum squad forever in my heart. that weekend will always be so special to me for so many reasons and it wouldn’t have been the same without each and every one of you.

@accidentalharrie and @styloff - ONE of these times we’ll be in the same place for long enough to do more than hug and grin at each other.

@ferryboatpeak and @ticklefighthockey - it was great to meet you! and la who would have thought then our next meeting would be in the backyard of an airbnb sitting six feet apart because we don’t want to spread a disease?

to harry, who isn’t reading this but i need all of you who ARE to know my heart ... thank you for bringing these people into my life. this experience of being your fan has changed me in such profound ways that there’s really no way to express it. it’s less about you and more about those who love you like i do, and i love them. and you.

to jeff, thank you for taking such good care of harry and having his best interests at heart.

to anne, thank you for raising such a good person and giving him to the world.

to camille, thank you for fine line. without you, that weekend doesn’t happen the way it did and i love that weekend.

#fine line live #one night only #my 'review' a year later

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365days365movies · 3 years

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January 20, 2021: Taken (2008)

Well, I know one thing about this movie. He’s gonna find ‘em. And he’s gonna kill ‘em. And also, Luc Besson didn’t direct this movie! Yeah, my bad, he wrote this movie. But, then, he also wrote Leon, so I wasn’t entirely wrong. Anyway, 2008!

I remember this year well. Obama was elected the first Black president of the United States of America; the Olympics took place in Beijing, months after a massive earthquake in Sichuan; the Large Hadron Collider was totally gonna make a black hole; and, of course, the most important news event of that year: Iron Man and The Dark Knight came out.

And of course, the film Taken came out, creating what is arguably the most repeated film meme ever. Or, at the very least, it’s WAY up there. It’s a 12-year old meme at this point, but lemme tell ya: this thing was HUGE in 2008. Not the movie itself, just the meme. And I could lie and tell you that I’m watching this movie because it’s another French action thriller, and it’s fitting, but…

...it’s the meme. It’s 100% the meme, I’m not gonna lie to you guys. So, uh...yeah, Taken, let’s do this. SPOILERS AHEAD!

Recap

Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) is dreaming of his daughter and wife. In the modern day, he brings a birthday gift to his daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace), and his bitter ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen), who is married to a very wealthy man, Stuart (Xander Berkeley). Bryan, meanwhile, is a recent and comparatively poor retiree, whose friends come over for a night of drinks.

Retiree from what, you ask? Well, it’s likely the CIA, given that his friends refer to military missions and Langley. They invite him to join security detail for a pop star, Sheerah (Holly Valance), In the process, he saves her from crazed fans, including a knife-wielding assailant. Not sure why that guy wants to LITERALLY STAB HER, but somebody needs to look into that guy!

Out of gratitude, Sheerah gives Bryan some references to give to his daughter, who wants to be a singer, apparently. However, when he sees her and Lenore the next day, all she wants from him is permission to go on a trip to Paris with her friends. When he shows his doubts for her safety, she’s upset, and his wife berates him for...government and military service? I mean, that stuff breaks up marriages, of course, but GODDAMN, Lenore’s bitter about it! Whoof.

Bryan’s definitely being made to be sympathetic, while Lenore’s the opposite of that. And Bryan’s understandably worried about his daughter’s safety, as she’ll be abroad. And we get the idea that Bryan’s a bit of a helicopter parent, but...c’mon! He’s underage daughter is asking to go to Paris with her friends! It’s cause for a parent to be worried, and yet Lenore is like, “She needs to be freeeeeeeeeee!” And that’s made even WORSE by the fact that both of them lie to Bryan, a father who clearly loves his daughter, because she’s actually following U2 on a music tour around Europe!

Which...really? U2? Who the hell can stand that much Bono, for their ENTIRE EUROPEAN TOUR? Anyway, what I’m saying is, Lenore sucks, and I’m not Kim’s biggest fan either. But I get the feeling that, given the one thing I know about this movie...Bryan’s gonna be proven right. So Kim and her friend, Amanda (Katie Cassidy) go to Europe, alone, despite Bryan’s understandable misgivings.

They IMMEDIATELY get hit on by Peter, a French boy who gives them a ride. He invites them to a party, Amanda accepts for them, and this is OBVIOUSLY A BAD IDEA. That’s even further confirmed by Peter making a mysterious call, telling the other person about the girls’ location. Kim doesn’t call Bryan, as promised, and Amanda is clearly a TERRIBLE influence. Looks like Bryan was completely right to be concerned, if his daughter’s gonna be so irresponsible. Oh, also because they’re about to get kidnapped.

Luckily, Kim had called Bryan just before, after realizing that he had called her, and he guides her through the upcoming kidnapping. With his help, although she gets kidnapped, Bryan is able to figure out that the kidnappers are Albanian, and that one of them is a six-foot tall bearded man with a moon and star tattoo on his right hand DAMN THAT’S OBSERVANT. But still...she’s been Taken.

Someone picks up the phone...and he says the speech.

youtube

Had to do it, folks. It’s the most iconic scene in the film. Time for action! Bryan calls a friend with Langley connections, then goes straight to Lenore and Stuart’s place, who find out that BRYAN WAS FUCKING RIGHT GODDAMMIT HOW DO YOU FEEL NOW

Having COMPLETELY FUCKED UP, Lenore asks Bryan to get her back safely. They actually figure out that the men who kidnapped her are professional sex-traffickers, who specialize in kidnapping travelling women and putting them in prostitution. But they tend to disappear...within 96 Hours. That’s how long Bryan has to find her, as well as being an alternate title for this film!

The time limit, by the way, is a common construct for the action-thriller. You know, “she has 12 hours to live,” that kind of deal. Thrillers are going to be peppered throughout this year, and there are a few coming up as well, so might as well start with this one, right?

Bryan flies to Paris, then makes his way to the apartment, tracing Kim’s steps up to her kidnapping. He also finds her destroyed phone, alongside an SD card with photos. From this, he gets a blurry look at Peter. I get the feeling that his face isn’t about to look much better. Speaking of, Peter’s playing his old tricks at the airport, and is caught by Bryan. Painfully caught. After Bryan fights off another guy, and chases Peter up a road, Peter also gets caught by karma.

80 hours left. Having exhausted options, Bryan meets an old contact, Jean-Claude (Olivier Rabourdin), who tells him where the Albanians hang out. He hires an Albanian translator, then heads for a prostitute-heavy area. He harrangues a prostitute until her manager comes out, whom he puts a small microphone on. With the translator’s help, he discovers that they’re having “merchandise problems” at a construction site.

Following a hunch, he makes his way there, and sees several drug-addicted young women in a makeshift brothel. Also there is his daughter’s jacket. The prostitute that has it, however, is not exactly cognitively sound at the moment. So...she’s Taken. By Bryan, who fights his way out of the brothel and construction site, with gunshots, explosions, and car chases along the way.

Bryan brings the girl back to a hotel, where he somehow gets ahold of an IV and medicine, and detoxes her in the room. Which, given the time frame and other factors...seems like a very large risk to take for testimony that, let’s be honest, right not exist. Still, as this is happening, he gets a call from Jean-Claude, asking to meet.

56 hours left. After 7 people dead, a destroyed trailer, and 3 people injured (and probably stolen medicine from a hospital, let’s be honest), Bryan isn’t exactly the best friend of the French government. He escapes police custody and heads back to the hotel, where the girl is cogent enough to remember where she got the jacket: from Kim herself, at the house with the red door on the road of paradise. No, really.

Bryan gets to the house, and poses as Jean-Claude...badly. He apparently passes his bluff check, and takes advantage of a corrupt police system, and makes them give him protection money. Over the course of the conversation, he figures out that one of them is Marco. Which means that he found him. And he said that when he found him…

After that spree is done, he searches the facility and looks for Kim. He doesn’t find her...but he does find Amanda. And sadly, he’s too late for her. Turns out, though, that he didn’t kill Marko (Arben Bajraktaraj), the leader of the group. And of course not! He has some questions.

Bryan tortures Marko using electricity, and he reveals that Kim’s been sold quickly, as she is a virgin. She’s been sold to Patrice Saint-Clair (Gerard Watkins), although Marko doesn’t know where he is. And so, Bryan fulfills his promise, and electrocutes him. He then makes his way to meet Jean-Claude at his home. And, uh...that’s when he crosses a line.

...Um. Bryan shot his wife. And yeah, Jean-Claude’s clearly not on the up-and-up, but he’s not directly complicit in the kidnapping of his daughter. And yeah, he’s in Bryan’s way, but JESUS CHRIST DUDE. He officially loses the moral high-ground here for me, even if his cause is just. Jean-Claude concedes, and Bryan gets the information that he’s looking for and leaves, knocking Jean-Claude out in the process.

Bryan goes to the Saint-Clair residence, where an auction is taking place for various young women. The last of these is, of course, Kim. Having barged into a booth of one of the buyers, he forces him to buy Kim (ew). Unfortunately, he’s caught and chained to a pipe, where Saint-Clair’s henchmen are about to kill him. But, of course...

Bryan escapes and kills Saint-Clair in the process, but not before finding out that Kim’s been Taken to a boat. He obtains a car, and after a length (and seizure-inducing) car chase, gets onto the boat, which is owned by the Sheik, a man of unknown Arabic origin. And yeah, in case you were wondering, this feels very...VERY...wrong. It’s brief, yeah, but...you gave a rich Arabic guy multiple wives obtained through illegal means and made them the main villain? FUCKIN’ OOF BRUV

Anyway, as expected, Bryan kicks the asses of everybody on the boat, and finally rescues Kim, killing the Sheik in the process. The two have a tearful embrace, and Bryan NEVER LETS HER OUT OF HIS SIGHT AGAIN PROBABLY. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT BONO. THIS IS ALL YOUR GODDAMN FAULT.

Well, Bryan wins the I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG GODDAMIT award, Kim gets to go home and meet that singer from before, Lenore gives Bryan some consideration as a human being for once, Stuart stepfathers, and that’s Taken! Also, WHERE IN THE HELL ARE AMANDA’S PARENTS, A GIRL IS DEAD

Epilogue soon!

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essie-essex · 3 years

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anybody here remember night blogging??

You know thinking back on how I would do things differently, I would probably have gone to another school for college. I had assumed that you were required to write a thesis at every school to graduate, and at my school we had I.S. (Independent Study), which was kind of a final 100 page paper + project that we had to do our senior year, in addition to taking classes. But my school offered me the most money, and everyone I talked to said that it was a good school. I remember my English teacher being surprised that I got in. I wasn’t the best student, but during my senior year I started to be more engaged and pay attention in class. I think part of it was that my family (me and my mom lol) hosted a Japanese exchange student that year. She stayed for 10 months and I loved having someone at the house to do things with, and I think having her around really helped me out a lot with feeling less lonely. So, my grades improved (with the exception of math, I actually did a lot worse in math than usual despite studying every night for hours because my teacher was horrible, but that’s another story...) and for the most part I did a lot better academically. Also, I started running, lost weight, and felt generally better about myself (I thought that finally after all those years of depression, things were finally getting better, and I was stronger, and blah blah blah).

When I was accepted by a university, I was so excited, especially since my advisor told me I wouldn’t get into college (because of that awful math class--like honestly that year would have been so much better if I had had any of the other math teachers who could actually teach, and I came to my advisor meeting thinking that I was doing so much better with my grades than usual, like I literally had A’s in everything except for math, in which I had an F, and I thought she would ask me about what was happening in math and offer help, like seriously who sees a bunch of A’s and one F and thinks “this student clearly isn’t applying herself” and not “clearly this student needs some help with this one subject,” but no she said “I just don’t know what to do with you. At this rate, you’re not going to get into college.” And I just remember being so upset especially since I went in there without any emotional armor like I would have put up if I actually had really bad grades and was expecting to hear about it, but right that’s another story, so anyway... )

My problems started after I got back from Japan. Before that, while I did still have my moments of depression, especially when dealing with my boyfriend who had his own share of mood problems which tended to be a bit more high key than mine, it was a lot better than it was in high school. I loved my major, I had friends who actually appreciated my presence, and, for the first time in my life, I felt hopeful about the future. I remember when I was taking the bus back to my city after visiting my boyfriend and one of my friends, and I realized that for the first time I just felt like a normal person. I didn’t feel like some weird defective mistake that clearly didn’t belong in this world.

Then I went to Japan. And I fucking loved it, which is why I was so sad to leave. I’m usually a really quiet person, and in order to be outgoing I have to completely turn off my filter, which, I realize, can make me sort of obnoxious. It worked for me at first. I made several friends in different groups so I could have different options and be able to go out with friends more often.

My school only allowed us to study abroad for one semester. So, I had 4 months to do everything I wanted to do there. Like I’m not an energetic person at all, but basically I told myself “I’ll sleep when I’m back in the US, but right now I’m in fucking Japan and I need to do everything.” But basically everyone else was staying for the entire school year, so they weren’t in a rush to do and see things like I was. My no filter self helped me make friends, so I would have different groups to go out and do things with (like I changed my personality so much that when I told one of my dorm mates that I liked to play videogames, she said that I didn’t “seem like the type” who would do that. Like she was genuinely surprised.) Public transportation and the safety of Japan made it easier for me to be more independent than I was in the US. My college was in a small town, so while I was more independent there than at home (where if I so much as opened the front door, my mom would come rushing downstairs wondering where I was going/what I was doing/why was I going outside) I was still basically confined to one or two streets in the area. In Japan, I could just get on the train and go. Plus when you’re a foreigner you sometimes get random people talking to you on the streets and can even meet new people since you stand out. I went out to clubs at least once every weekend, and sometimes even twice (the advantage of having more than one group of friends). I didn’t sleep too much and always wanted to be out doing things since I just didn’t have a lot of time. I met guys, went out on dates and everything, had cultural experiences, and I mostly just didn’t care about any danger because I was in Japan and I basically had no plan after that and had done the one thing I really wanted to do (which was travel to Japan). The attitude was also brought on by me not giving much of shit about my studies because I was so angry and disappointed for not getting a placement in a program in which basically everyone who applied would get accepted. It was especially annoying because it allowed me to get experience in participant-observation while volunteering at a place that interested me, but most people who did the program were just doing it for fun, like there were a lot of various sciencey majors plus at least one math major, and I was just really disappointed. Luckily this attitude I adopted didn’t affect my grades too much, since most of the classes were pretty easy.

So, getting back to the point of all of this, I realize that the real problem was my shitty attitude, and I should have made the most out of my four months and then come back to “the real world,” as my mother put it, and be the same person I was before. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. I have never been popular before, and having so many people not see my weird defective self was so exhilarating to me. For once I wasn’t the weird quiet girl. For once I could be independent. But then I was back to the small college town, and I wanted to go out and do things, I wanted to go to parties on the weekends. But my friends would mostly stay in and watch movies on the weekends. Like we went to the occasional party or did the usual hang out together and drink thing, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t be the same person I had been for the previous four months, and I didn’t take it well.

I had never had the kind of depression where I had brain fog. While I was still depressed in middle and high school, I could still do things like read books or write song lyrics. But brain fog made it impossible for me to get anything done. Like I could read a page and not know anything about what I read. I’d be stuck reading the same sentences over and over. When I hung out with my friends, I could muster up some energy, since I would cling to anything that brought me even a bit of joy, but mostly I just did nothing. I had this tiny room at the back of the house (we were a volunteer house and went to the local animal shelter every week) and I never even unpacked my clothes. Everything was in bags or boxes or in a clothing pile somewhere. I would have dreams of being back in Japan and wake up so disappointed. It was especially upsetting to think about all the people I knew in Japan, since they still were there. I tried checking in on people to see how they were doing, but--as is usual--they didn’t miss me nearly as much as I missed them. And I felt the same way about my friends at college too. I was back to just being tolerated instead of wanted. I always let them have their way and yielded to their decisions and just tried to keep my group of friends but I think a good number of them stopped liking me.

ANYWAY, getting to the point. I got on meds over the summer and felt kind of better. I didn’t having nearly as much brain fog. I was ready to do my IS and graduate, and then things went downhill again. My friends used to automatically include me in things, but now I always had to check in with them to see if they were doing anything. I started my IS, joined a local Pagan group to do my research, and started reading books to use as sources. My IS advisor was my favorite professor, but when I told her that I was having trouble doing everything because of my depression, she said “but you took care of that, right?” Like the meds I was on were supposed to fix everything. I just straight up never went back to her office. I stopped going to classes. I purposely avoided meal times and went to get food at times when most people were in classes. I stopped everything.

I feel like if I had gone to a different school, I might have been able to power through the year and finish my classes. Maybe. Or maybe not. I don’t know. This school truly felt like it was the best option though. They offered me the most money, and I was able to visit and write an essay while I was there to get an even better scholarship. I remember when I was offered a merit scholarship for the first time (for one of the schools I didn’t choose to go to) and I called my dad and told him they were offering me some money. He just thought it would be a few hundred dollars maybe, but when I told him $11,000 he was so surprised and was speechless. Like there was just silence for a few seconds for him to process it. The school I went to offered me $14,000 a year, and the scholarship I applied for and went there to write the essay for, brought the amount up to $18,000 (Sadly, this didn’t even cover half of the yearly tuition). It seemed like the best choice, even if they didn’t offer Japanese, I figured I could still learn on my own, and I didn’t realize that their IS program was so unique. If I had gone to any of the other schools, especially one of the bigger ones, I wonder if I would have made more friends. There would have been much more to do there. And all I would have to do was take classes and not be horribly stressed out by IS. Even if I was depressed toward the end of it, all I had to do was pass. Like even though I got good grades for the first two years, I would just need to pass the classes in the last two years to graduate. I got really off topic here I know. This is mostly just a stream of consciousness thing to get my thoughts out. And putting it here has probably stopped me from going into the kind of depressive rant that I usually go into when I write about my life.

Anyways, I’m not editing this or anything. I meant to write this while letting the Sims 4 load since it takes a while with the 938347283333 mods I have, but I forgot to actually start it, whoops!

tl;dr started writing this post meaning to talk about my college and senior IS, ended up having one of those sitcom clip episodes but in writing.

Also fuck my senior year high school math teacher, holy shit she was horrible at teaching

#essie things #i tend to put blame on myself and not other people for things #because it's my job to react in the best way even when things are difficult #but really that fuckin math teacher was just #awful

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

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Talk to Me

Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge: (Prompt #16 – Call me if you need anything)

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Modern Ivar x OC

Fandom: Vikings

Warning: Language/mild angst

Rating: M

Summary: Can an online relationship work in the real world? Ivar and Cash are about to find out.

A/N: So this is my first challenge. What was supposed to be a one-shot has turned into a mini-series. I’m having so much fun writing it. I haven't written in about 10 years - my muses all went away when Dave Batista left WWE. Then one day, Alex Høgh Andersen showed up and all of my muses came back! I’m so happy!

Please, note if you notice grammatical errors in the dialogues between characters, it’s because I write how people speak. Any other errors may just be because I was careless...

Also, I’m writing the Lothbroks as Europeans speaking English. In my head, when they are together they are speaking Norweigan but when they speak English, it’s with their Vikings’ show accents.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

What the fuck am I doing? No seriously, what the fuck was she doing?

Cash didn’t do things like this. Ever. She had literally seen every episode of MTV’s Catfish and 90 Day Fiance (the original show, Abroad, and After the 90 Days). She was responsible, respectable, intelligent, reasonably attractive and she had just landed a job where she actually got to use her degree. This side of 25 was looking up for her. She wasn’t desperate, was she?

She was going to feel so stupid when everyone rubbed it in her face that this “Ivar” guy didn’t really exist, or turned out to be something totally other than what he claimed. Although she had only told a handful of people about her trip, they had all filled her head with so much more angst that she almost canceled the trip four times in the last month. Her mom was convinced that Cash was going to be kidnapped and sold into an Eastern European sex trafficking ring. While her best friend just knew that Ivar was going to turn out to be a sadistic 65-year-old ex-KGB operative who hated Americans and only wanted to torture her like in that movie Hostel. Even her younger brother tried to email Nev & Max to see if MTV could do an episode of Catfish Abroad and put her on blast for all of his friends to see.

Cash let out a nervous breath as she looked around the Austrian Airlines terminal. Her flight to Vienna was due to start boarding in a little more than an hour and there were still a lot of empty seats.

She fidgeted in her chair trying to fish her phone out of her jacket pocket. What she needed was mood music – Billie Eilish, although played in heavy rotation lately, wasn’t cutting it. She needed mood music - something angrier... more upbeat. Remi Ma or Joyner Lucas? Why not both? She made a quick playlist, put it on shuffle, and bobbed her head to the music.

No sooner did she feel herself getting lost in the beat, did the music stop and the phone ring. With a slight eye roll, Cash answered the phone pleasantly, “Hey Ma.”

“Hey, honey. How you doing?” Barbara Heath spoke to her daughter in a voice reserved for someone that might have just suffered a loss or been seriously injured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, Ma. I’m fine.”

“You know, it’s not too late to come home, Shay.” Cash cringed at her mother’s nickname for her. All of her life, she had tried to get people to call her Cash, but her parents were still hell-bent on calling her Shay. “No one would blame you. I didn’t tell anyone you were going on your little excursion except your Aunt Margaret and Gigi. You know they don’t think this is a good idea, either. And you know your Daddy is still upset that you decided to go.”

“Ma, don’t.” She slouched in her seat and looked up at the airport ceiling. “When I finished grad school, I told you guys I wanted to travel more. Everyone was fine with it then. Now all of a sudden everyone is against me going…”

“We’re aren’t!” Barbara walked across the kitchen with her glass of wine and took a seat at the kitchen counter. She didn’t want to start another fight with her daughter, but she needed to Cash to understand how dangerous this could be. “I just don’t understand about this going across the world to meet some boy. There are plenty of those here.”

Oh my, God. “For the last time, I’m going to Vienna because I haven’t been back to Austria since undergrad. While I’m there I’m going to meet up with one of my friends, Ma.”

“Yeah, a friend you met on the internet.”

“Really? I’m about to get on a plane and I won’t see you for weeks, and you want to do this now? How about saying ‘Have a nice trip’ or ‘I’m proud of you for being so adventurous’ or something like that?” She tried not to raise her voice, but she could tell her frustration at her mother mixed with her own nerves about the situation was coming through on the phone.

Barbara sighed in defeat. “You got that stubbornness from your Daddy.” She was relieved when she heard her daughter chuckle. “You know, I’m proud of you. And I want you to have so much fun! This is going to be the best trip of your life. I just want you to be careful and know that I will worry about you. Let me know when you land, and when you get to your hotel, and when you meet this Ivar-boy.” She was going to make a point to stop babying her as soon as she came back from Europe. “Just know that I love you. Call me if you need anything. Me and your Daddy will be on the first flight to come get you and bring you…”

“I love you, too Mommy. I’ll call you when I land.”

When Cash hit the button to end the call, she noticed a WhatsApp notification on her phone. She hadn’t even heard the phone chime. She felt the smile slide across her face as she opened the app.

Ivar was the only person who ever contacted her on WhatsApp.

_______________________________________________________________

“Ahh, Ivar, you will be fine.” Ivar cut his blue eyes over to his brother driving the car. “You will have fun. You’ll see.”

He folded his arms over his chest, like a child, and returned his gaze out of the passenger’s window. “I am not a child, Bubbe. I do not a chaperone.” He really hated being the youngest. His brothers always acted like he was completely incapable of doing anything on his own.

“I know, brother.” Ubbe let out a soft chuckle and connected eyes with Hvitserk in the backseat through the rearview mirror, “Serk is not coming to chaperone. He is coming with you, to help you.”

“I do not need help, either.” Ivar was sick of this fight. He had been having it with his brothers for about a month now. He was perfectly capable of traveling by himself, without Hvitserk’s assistance. “And why Serk? He is the least responsible of us all.”

Hvitserk nodded in agreement from the backseat and smiled good-naturedly. He really didn’t give a shit what Ivar wanted to do. All he knew was Bjorn was footing the bill for his trip to Austria with Ivar and he wasn’t about to turn down a free vacation. Women, liquor, food, and a hotel suite...all he had to do was carry Ivar’s bags and help him through the airport? It sounded like a sweet deal to him.

Ubbe shook his brother’s shoulder, “C’mon, Ivy. I would come with you if I could. I have to work.” He peeked over at his brother’s face, noting his anger looked something more akin to nerves. “Besides, Serk will give you much more freedom than I would. Who knows, you might really like this girl when you meet her.”

“It is not like that.” Ivar said quietly, looking out of the window. He wanted to talk to Ubbe about Cash for some time now, but Ubbe was always so busy with work. Besides, he and Torvi had just had a baby. He clearly had more important things to think about than his little brother and his lack of experience with women. But, Ubbe was the kindest and most level headed person he knew. What he wouldn’t give for some of his big brother’s advice right now. “We are just friends.” Even if that’s not what he wanted, he was sure that’s all they would end up being.

“But there may come a time when you are not just friends.” Ubbe tried to hide his smirk as he noticed the blush start to creep up Ivar’s neck and settle on his earlobes. “What will you do then, hmm?”

“He will fuck her!” Hvitserk clapped Ivar on the shoulders and laughed.

How far ways was this damn airport? If Ivar didn’t get out of this car soon, he was going to grab the steering wheel and drive them off of a cliff. “Please don’t leave me with him.” He never asked his brothers for anything, but he made this plea to Ubbe with such sincerity. “I am going to kill him.”

After Ubbe pulled the car into the parking space, he killed the engine and asked Hvitserk to get the bags while he talked to Ivar for a moment. “So…you have told her?” He waited for Ivar to turn around and look at him before he lowered his eyes to Ivar’s legs. He sighed in disappointment when Ivar refused to meet his eyes. “Ivar.”

“I never thought we would actually meet.” It was never really his intention to lie, but it really wasn’t a conversation he was sure how to start. Did he start by saying, ‘Hi I’m Ivar. I’m a Taurus and I’m physically challenged?’ “Then I started to like her and could not tell her. I did not want to stop talking to her. So, I came off like Bjorn.”

“Like an ass?”

Ivar shrugged. “A little. She is American. She likes that confident, arrogant type.” Shaking his head at the mess he had gotten himself into, he threw his hands up in frustration. “Ahh, it does not matter now. We will meet and have fun as friends and that will be all.”

“But that is not all. You like this girl and it sounds like she likes you. You need to tell her before you see her.” Gripping his little brother by the back of the neck, Ubbe pulled gave him a brotherly hug. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about Ivar Ragarsson. Any woman would be proud to have you.” Kissing him on the top of his head, he grumbled when Ivar pushed him away and got out of the car.

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cuddletime-blog · 4 years

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Lucien: A Special Dinner Date For Four

Lucien and I entered our house with several bags of groceries in our hands. I was planning on cooking a dinner as a double date together with my close friend Andrea and her husband Victor Li. I looked up into Lucien’s eyes and warned him firmly, “No funny business tonight, Lucien. I understand that you and Victor might have had an unhealthy and fierce rivalry in the past, but please be nice to my best friend and her husband at dinner. Andrea supported me through an especially difficult time when I was struggling with my work recently so I would like to have a pleasant dinner together to thank her properly.” Lucien grabbed the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc out from the grocery bag and smiled at me reassuringly saying, “Of course I know how important your friendship with Andrea is to you, Elise. You are overly concerned. I am being a good host to our special guests tonight and I am prepared to show them my good will. In fact, I have prepared a little gift for Victor to thank him specifically tonight.”

My expression softened somewhat, but I was curious as to why Lucien wanted to gift something to Victor. I looked up at Lucien in surprise and said, “That sounds good actually. I’m relieved if you are making an effort to make amends with Victor even though you don’t agree and get along with him most of the time. Let the past stay in the past and let’s just enjoy this double dinner date with our friends tonight, Luci. I am looking forward to learning from and trying Andrea’s Portuguese cooking for the first time.”

I prepared a quinoa shrimp mango pomegranate spinach salad with white balsamic vinaigrette and sliced a loaf of bread. Lucien helped me open the wine to use for cooking and drinking and he set the table. Andrea told me that she planned to cook her special Bacalhau com natas or cream cod dish with potatoes and a second dish of steamed clams in garlic with chorizo, white wine, lemon juice, and fresh cilantro. I requested that she make pastel de nata for dessert with me and next time, I would make cream puffs topped with chocolate and caramel sauce for her.

Andrea and Victor arrived before dinner with their own separate groceries too and Lucien greeted them after opening the door to welcome them inside. I smiled, hugged Andrea, and showed her inside the kitchen where she could place the groceries so that we could begin cooking the steamed clams and cream cod. Lucien showed Victor to our greenhouse outside and there, they picked some herbs together. Then, Victor poured the wine into the glasses right before the food was served at the table. Dinner was splendid and we made pleasant conversation together despite some silence here and there from Victor. Lucien was just mostly observing and listening attentively or answering Andrea’s questions about the house and our neighborhood. We decided to play some card games after dinner, such as Crazy Eights and Slapjack. It was quite fun, but Victor and Lucien entered into their intensely competitive modes and started a game of chess with one another after the 4 of us finished playing our card games.

Both men were stubborn and absolutely hated to lose. They were so lost in concentrating only on their chess game. Unable to convince them to snap out of it, Andrea and I decided to sit back and observe how the game progressed. I expected Lucien to win, but the game ended in a stalemate. Victor might have been slightly disappointed, but he looked calm enough. I was relieved that the evening was going so well without anyone getting angry or frustrated. I think Victor was in a rather good mood tonight. However, the rest of the evening took an interesting turn when Lucien presented Victor with a gift.

The gift turned out to be a wine opener, but Lucien had also included a Batman keyring next to the wine opener. Victor stared at the gifts awkwardly and muttered a quick word of thanks. I blushed a bit in embarrassment and tried to restrain myself from bursting into laughter, suddenly remembering that I revealed to Lucien that Andrea told me about the one time she made a bet with Victor and got him to say, “I am Batman.” In return, Victor invited Lucien and me to tour his and Andrea’s vineyards in France and Portugal and also his villa and lake house in Italy. He said that on the Italian property, he kept a few swans and thought Lucien should get along fine with those swans. I knew what Victor was referring to in Lucien’s dark past, but Lucien replied saying, “I’m surprised there aren’t peacocks instead on your property.” Lucien had implied that Victor was being prideful and he knew that Victor had just poked an uncomfortable old wound or sore spot in his past. The situation was escalating quickly now between them with both men staring rather intensely at one another, waiting for the other to say the next triggering remark.

I attempted to defuse the situation and added, “Thank you for your incredibly kind offer, Victor. I love vineyards and have always wanted to travel someday to France, Italy, and Portugal. Andrea does like peacock feathers, such as the ones used in the designs of her favorite jewelry, but peacocks are rather noisy so I don’t think they would be good birds to keep around. I am comfortable with observing swans from a safe distance on the lake though. Geese frighten me more than swans. However, if you two don’t apologize to one another and make up right now, it would upset me greatly if I had to end our night here early and say good night to Andrea earlier than I planned without even having our dessert first. Let’s not end this evening on a sour note because mark my words, I would rather squeeze lemon juice all over both of your pastel de natas tonight or refuse to serve you any dessert altogether than have to continue watching the both of you bicker any longer like this…like 2 little boys instead of the 2 mature men that you should be!” I gave Lucien a stern look and he started his apology, saying that he didn’t mean for his joke gift to go this far, but he was sorry about his earlier remark about peacocks. Victor apologized too, saying that he too had provoked Lucien by bringing up the topic about swans.

Victor looked over at Lucien and whispered quietly, “Your wife, Elise is scary when she makes threats about dessert.” Lucien replied, “She’s usually the sweetest person most people ever meet, but she gets very serious about eating dessert sometimes so I like it when she becomes so assertive and speaks her mind firmly in front of me.” Victor said with slight smirk on his face, “I think you made the right decision earlier. Otherwise, I would have been even more afraid if her threat to deny you dessert would be extended into the bedroom and you would be sleeping on the couch tonight after the little stunt you pulled with the joke gift earlier.” Lucien replied, “Touché. Perhaps my originally harmless little joke did cross the line tonight, but I couldn’t resist wanting to see the somewhat astonished look on your face when you saw what was in the box after opening my gift.” Victor said, “Let’s just consider it all even now and I’ll forget your Batman nonsense fiasco.” Lucien smiled and said, “Alright, deal. We’ll meet again in Europe in a few weeks. I wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to try some good new wines from your properties and enjoy the milder weather there. In the meantime, I’ll try to get back on Elise’s good side again so it’s as they say, a happy wife makes for a happy life.” Victor said, ‘You finally said something I don’t disagree with so just do as you like. Andrea will be glad to show Elise around abroad and they can just enjoy themselves. I can see that Elise is a good person and a better influence or friend than you are, but I don’t mind enduring any minor hassles or challenges if it’s all for Andrea’s sake and future happiness.” Lucien simply commented, “Well said.”

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bluesunsdusk · 4 years

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Sigma in different setting verses and family

Strap yourself in, this will be a long post.

Main/Overwatch

I imagine my Sigma to have had two brothers, both older than him, but both also ultimately shorter. Wouter, the eldest brother died in the Omnic Crisis while he was working for Lucheng Interstellar, which created friction between him and the family, as they felt rather upset at his absence during this very tumultuous time despite the fact that his research served to improve the chances of survival for those back on earth. The other brother, Joris, became a sheep farmer, because he had fanciful ideas about living the farmer lifestyle up north. Siebren was surprised that he manages to get a husband, in all honesty, because he hasn’t a clue who would want to live on a farm far removed from any bus stops and towns.

Anyway, after a while, the tension brought on by Wouter’s death dissipated, since people knew very well that Siebren cares a lot about his family. He just wasn’t as lovey-dovey as some people and showed his care through things like developing protective measures in his lab that can be used down on earth. It wasn’t like anyone would benefit from him buying candy or some shit. Leave that to Joris. Besides, what was he supposed to do if he had stayed on earth? Take the missiles in his brother’s stead?

Sometimes, he would try to assist in looking after the children of the family, despite only being able to use long distance communications.

He travelled away from the family home on many school trips and went into an apartment when he entered college. Being as distracted by/focused on his studies as he was, it could be hard to manage his time between his studies and his family, so he would not visit as often as they would like if he wasn’t reminded to do so because he had a hard time missing people. He had a hard time with emotions in general and was prone to tunnel vision that made him lose track of broader time.

He loves his family, he just doesn’t spend much time with them, and he clearly loves his direct family (brothers, parents) the most. Honestly, he sometimes forgot others and had to put a lot of effort into keeping them in mind early on, especially with the limited energy he had for social interactions. That being said, the children usually did enjoy his company, which made it a lot easier to remember contacting the family, especially for the children who contacted him or asked their parents about him.

If contacted, he would not just ignore a message, unlike some uncles. It could sometimes take him a while to get back at a message, but he would try to get back to it.

Merfolk

Siebren has two siblings. With the lack of a war, his eldest brother is alive, but he nearly died protecting a school of merfolk from a human attack. Humans like to collect merfolk for prestige or to eat. Most merfolk cannot speak the human languages because they spend most of their time underwater and use nonverbal means to communicate. When above water, they also just speak a different language than any of the human languages, though they might have similar enough accents to certain local dialects.

He travels a lot, so he is used to not seeing his family for long stretches of time. That being said, he makes sure to visit them every now and then, and they make the most of it whenever he is by. His eldest brother worries about him a lot, knowing how close he gets to humans in his research.

When he visits, ge brings some items from his research. Sometimes, it’s items that are seen as junk to humans, like broken off parts of ships or parts of marine observation technology.

In an attempt to keep everyone safe, Wouter teaches his children and brothers how to defend themselves. Because Siebren isn’t around often, he has been taught a lot less.

Monster Hunter

In this verse, Sigma has one brother, having lost his eldest brother to a demon attack while Siebren studied different dimensions for the monster hunting order he is a part of. After his brother’s death, he continued his studies, but he was less focused, eventually having an accident that exposed him to the unfiltered energies of a demonic plane.

Anyway, he isolated himself from his family since his brother’s death. He was not at his funeral. Like in his main verse, it put a strain on the relationship between him and his brother, though his sister-in-law understood why he didn’t show up. She was just worried about him.

Like in his main verse, he is used to not seeing his family for long stretches of time, and he is aware that he may be killed in the line of duty. As time passed, he began to contact his sister-in-law more often.

Eldritch

El just... He knows he/his host has a family, and being in this body means he has a bond towards them. In fact, he cares more about them now than he did before. Eldritch just can’t visit them, because he is an eldritch host, and he doesn’t want to do harm to his family or have them do harm to him.

He is upset sometimes because he will never meet them and he is a stranger in his own body now.

Vampire

His family is his vampire clan. Anyone who isn’t in the cult isn’t his family. His brother and everyone else hasn’t heard from him since he went on his little expedition. They don’t even know he’s alive. He doesn’t even think about them, and he doesn’t miss any of them. All he cares about is the melody and sharing his blood with people.

Demon

He has been a demon for so long he doesn’t even remember his family, aside from vague things. Sometimes, he may recall a name or a feeling. He is used to isolation. Sometimes, he does feel lonely, so he seeks out mortal interaction, but then he tires from said mortals.

It’s unpleasant having a need for mortal company when having such limited patience for them. Whenever he attempts to give them a chance, they remind him of why he dislikes them.

Orc Warlock

In this verse, Sigma lives with his family in the tribe and helps raise the children when he has the time to do so. One of his brothers was killed by outsiders during an attack on their tribe before they had relocated, and the other members of the tribe offered their hands in taking care of the children while his partner mourned. Sigma was among them, despite mourning the loss of his brother as well. Back then, he had studied the arcane and partially blamed himself for not being able to fend people off well enough to protect his brother.

As one might imagine, the orc tribes are less about studying abroad or working in space. In fact, he’s spent most of his life with the tribe. It’s big on communal childrearing and exile is seen as the biggest shame an orc can have thrust upon them. The tribe sticks together and they protect each other. An isolated orc is far more prone to being attacked and killed than a tribe is.

Furthermore, he’s not exactly in possession of the privilege a cis white European man with higher education would have.

People fear his kind, though unlike with certain other races, he can understand why one may have a logical reason not to trust an orc, considering Gul’dan and the Horde in a WoW verse.

In a general fantasy setting that so happens to have the fel, which he is in, though, he believes most biases about orcs to be just that. Biases and made up nonsense, such as that all orcs are genetically predisposed to violence and inherently worst at arcane arts shouldn’t be taken as fact, yet so many do it. It doesn’t help that orcs look less than elegant to most other races, what with their sharp teeth and tusks. The hulking mass most have doesn’t help either, nor do the more extreme groups of orc that think people like Sigma should have been drowned at birth for not being born absolutely stacked.

People, especially orcs, don’t really trust mages in some places either, so he’s double fucked.

The tribe has people keeping watch all day and night, in shifts, and has wards around the area to detect and hinder intruders. When away from the tribe, he is on high alert and has trouble relaxing and sleeping. His eyes will open at the slightest noise, unless he’s with someone he trusts. This means someone he trusts to protect both themselves and him, and to not get caught by surprise. He won’t even sleep much better from putting up wards, and demons can draw attention.

Sometimes, the children will visit his shaman tent when he is doing normal shaman things instead of warlock things.

Being an important member of the tribe, he also just worries about how well his people would do without him. They already almost died a few times. He’s had to protect them on numerous occasions and the forest was chosen because it’s far from people who might harm them or try to rope them into a conflict. The demons are bound to his will, too. What would happen if he was gone for so long that they ceased to be bound? Sure, Moira is there and could tame them, but he doesn’t trust her. What if she does something that alters the tribe in a way that can’t be reversed?

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he gets anxious if cut off from the tribe. It’s in contrast with regular Overwatch Sigma, who is fine not being in contact with his family for a bit, because Warlock has hardly ever been separated from his family ever, and there is a huge mentality of loyalty to the tribe He gave his actual soul for the tribe.

That being said, even if he got a letter while away, he would not respond to it immediately if he is occupied. He will make sure it’s safe and will check it almost immediately though.

Dragon Age

The Augur of the Obscure does not remember his family, only small snippets of it, along with blurred and scrambled memories from other parts of his life. He thinks they were close when he was younger. His studies made them drift a little apart.

Naturally, everyone he grew up with is dead. It has been quite a long time ago since the first blight, after all. Perhaps, them being dead is for the best, considering the circumstances.

Verses not included:

Fable 2 and 3

Fable 3: Traitor’s Keep

Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion

Disciple of Order

Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim

Mass Effect ot

Mass Effect Andromeda

#long post #ooc #about sigma

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kaibacxrps · 4 years

Text

RP PLOTTING CHEAT SHEET

(originally created by hatsudenki)

Repost don’t reblog

Mun name: Vani (IDC how you guys will address me by)

OOC Contact: Tumblr IMs, Disco.rd (mutuals only)

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

Seto Kaiba is the CEO of Kaiba corporation, a world renowned softwares and games development company. They are one of the main partners and investors of Industrial illusions, the company responsible for the creation of duel monsters (they are also known for their theme parks in Japan and the USA, and later [GX] they own the duelists academy). Kaiba is also amongst the top duelits known in the world, Yugi is the only one who stands above him- no one else comes close to rivaling him.

Priest Set is one of the six priests that compose, Atem’s court in Ancient Egypt (and in the afterlife). He was the original wielder of the millennium rod, and carried the duties of extracting prisoners kas and execute them. He was also a phenomenal war strategist, and a powerful magician (who was only ever defeated by Atem. No one else rivaled him, in those skills). He fought against Zorc, alongside his colleagues and pharaoh, and came out as the sole survivor of that previous court. He became the new pharaoh, after Atem’s death (since it was revealed to him that he was Aknadin’s son, so they were related.). Set reigned over the Egyptian empire, and went down in history as a tyrant and merciless pharaoh in Egypt’s history.

Points of interest:

Kaiba can be recognized at about anywhere he goes. He is a very prominent, public figure. At some point, any muse is bound to have at least seen or heard something involving the name Kaiba. Don’t let those commercials and interviews fool you, Kaiba is a difficult person to be around in person.

Besides my AU, where Set shows up in the modern world. Interactions will either take place in AE or in the afterlife. In AE, it can be during his time as a priest, or when he is the pharaoh. Meanwhile in the afterlife, his soul is bound to serve his king. When Set is in the modern world, he is sharing his mind (not the body) with Kaiba, so he knows his way around as well as everything that happened during DM’s events.

What they’ve been up to recently:

It depends on the verse.

For standard Kaiba’s interactions are all set in his present time verse, 4 years post-DM. He has long since quit the professional dueling scene (after being defeated by Yugi in his BC 2.0 tournament, that takes place after Atem’s departure), so he has only been focusing on his company - and his brother (who is already studying abroad). Kaiba has also cut all ties and contact with Yugi & co, the last time he saw them was in their HS graduation. Currently, he is working on his duelists academy project, he has just bought the establishment and is making huge investments on it. He is often traveling abroad for business reasons, and is rarely seen around Domino city.

As a priest: Set is serving the royal court, he is an important and prominent figure within it. Because of that, his days are extremely busy. He can be often found being mentored by Aknadin, or in the company of other priests. On the rare occasion, it is possible to run into him while out hunting wild animals.

As a pharaoh: Set took over the throne after Atem’s death, and is currently trying to repair and rebuild the empire after all the damages and destruction caused by Zorc. Things are still very fresh and recent, on top of that the former priest is now trying to adjust to his life as the king of Egypt.

In the afterlife: Set’s soul made into his pharaoh’s after his death, in the mortal realm. He is finally reunited with his colleagues, but Atem is still nowhere to be found. As such, he alongside with everyone else waits patiently for their king’s return. Things will return to normal, once he makes it into it.

Modern AU: Set has been granted the chance to meet, the one that was meant to be his vessel. However, things have been less than stellar to him. And ever since he came across Kaiba, he has been kept inside of Kaiba estate. He isn’t allowed out of it, in order to avoid people mistaking him by his vessel.

Where to find them:

Kaiba is... All over the place really, although bars and nightclubs might be the better places to find him. Otherwise, he mostly stays in his company’s building or in his mansion.

Just look above for Set, it depends on the time period- when things are meant to happen. But during Ae, he doesn’t really leave the palace that much and in the modern AU he is stcuk in Kaiba’s place.

Current plans:

// I don’t have any? Not in the sense of making something, that would involve other muns muses. I’ll just keep working on my HCs, and hopefully write a few drabbles I have been meaning to get to for awhile.

Desired interactions:

// I would love to have more things taking place during AE for Set, or finally get to write something during the afterlife.

For Kaiba, I’m actually interested in some pre-DM stuff, so during school shenanigans? (At a time where they were all simply classmates, and nothing else) Or even much later into the timeline, during or post-GX.

Offered interactions:

I have many AUs to offer!

My biggest AU atm is my Yami!Set AU! All of these are open for interactions, and plotting!

I offer anything from pre-DM stuff, things taking place during the series events, post DM and even GX stuff for Kaiba!

For Set, it is a similar thing, albeit during AE and in the afterlife.

Current open post/s:

I don’t do any opens, unless it is for a current dash shenanigan sorry.

Anything else?:

Please be mindful about the continuity & canon sources, I use for my muses. All of them are being based off the anime, I don’t follow at all the manga nor take season 0 into consideration. I also ignore all the movies, and games for my interpretations.

I don’t expect my portrayals/takes on the characters to be everyone’s cup of tea. I’m bound to touch on certain subjects that might be upsetting for certain users, so please take care of yourself and know your limits.

I haven’t watched everything related to YGO. I’m the most familiar with DM and GX, I still have to catch up with everything that came afterwards.

Anyone looking to ship with me. These are the ones I refuse to rp: mirror (Noah/Seto), tabloid (Mokuba/Seto), Puppy/violet (Jounouchi/Seto) and corrupt (TK Bakura/Set).

I want to remind you all that, any and all HCs that mention a character’s name. Will never be applied nor enforced, upon anyone’s muses!

I can rp on disc.ord as well, if that’s easier for you!

Please don’t let these things intimidate you! I look forward to talk & discuss with you!

#ooc /#; dash games #long post #oh BOY I DID IT

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trashyslashers · 5 years

Note

(Sorry about last time :') You told me to send this next time request were open so-) If you're willing, could you do a soulmate au with Brahms? Where you have a mark on your arm or chest and the closer you get to your soulmate, the more it glows and/or the hotter it gets? And s/o ends up getting lost in the woods during a storm and has to seek shelter in the manor?? (Hope this isn't too much to ask for 💞 I love your hcs and stories! )

No need to apologize! I’m definitely guilty of missing the “requests: closed” on other blogs before a few times, so it’s not a problem. Instead of doing a list of headcanons I just did a tiny bit of a scenario type of deal.

I MIGHT do a part II at some point, but that entirely depends on where I think I could go with this, considering the ending is vague but I’m not sure how much more in depth I could go with this specific AU.

Ever since you were a child, you found yourself heavily preferring solitude whenever you were upset or distressed. The time alone allowed opportunity for you to clear your mind and ponder whatever was bothering you; the peace of mind brought on by the alone time was like no other and you found it hard to feel bad about distancing yourself whenever you felt you needed it.

Now was one of those times.

You’d spent the past year studying abroad in the UK, and while the locals of the small town you were staying in were nothing but kind and welcoming, you couldn’t help but feel horrendously homesick. Not only that, but on top of missing home, the added stress and pressure of school and exams were beginning to take a toll on you both mentally and physically and eventually you found yourself in desperate need of some time to yourself. It didn’t matter where you went - you just needed to be alone, away from other humans.

Fed up and frustrated with everything, one evening you decided that what you needed to remedy your sour mood was a long drive so you could think without any sort of distraction. During the past year of living in town you easily familiarized yourself with your surroundings, and much to your pleasure you learned early on that there were plenty of winding roads throughout the surrounding countryside. You’d been up and down them a handful of times, mostly in travels to other towns if you needed something in particular the one you were in didn’t have, and they were perfect for those times when the last thing you wanted was to be surrounded by other people. So, with that, you settled into your car one evening and set out.

About 15 minutes into your drive, you had a change of plans once you came upon a small parking spot on the side of the road, deep in the countryside. From what it looked like, there were a handful of hiking trails branching off from the road, and without a second thought you decided that you’d quite like to go for a walk, considering it had been a hot minute since you’d really done much exploring, and the air had that mid-autumn chill to it that you absolutely adored. Seeing as no other people appeared to be around, you took it as the perfect opportunity to park your car, tuck your keys and phone away in your pockets, and go for a stroll.

Within moments of being out of your car you were feeling much better than you had been previously, and you dug your hand into your pocket and pulled out your earbuds, fully prepared to spend the next half an hour or so meandering along the trails, lost in your own thoughts.

Despite taking the time for yourself, you still couldn’t completely rid your mind of the anxiety and stress that had been gnawing at it for the last month. While you were pretty good at masking your anxiety you had a few self soothing habits that arose whenever you were feeling particularly antsy - one of which was rubbing at the lovemark on the back of your left wrist, tracing it’s shape.

It was something everyone knew about and everyone had; a small mark, not unlike a tattoo shaded lighter than your skin, located usually on one’s arm or chest that acted as a sort of indicator for whenever you met your supposed soulmate. It definitely saved people time - from what you’ve heard, it’s saved plenty of people from the woes of serial dating and made it much easier to settle down with someone. From what you understood, the closer you physically got to your soulmate, the mark would either change in color or emit a heat of its own (or on occasion, both), and the intensity indicated a closer proximity. Once it numbed and had a more charcoal-like tone, that meant that you finally met the one you were supposed to be with, and that was that. While some people liked this, others found it a nuisance as they felt that dating and discovering things on their own was much more exhilarating and would get a tattoo placed over it.

You had no strong feelings either way.

As you thumbed at the phone of your screen with your left to swipe through your music, your right hand found its way to the back of your left wrist as you went to rub at the mark out of subconscious habit - almost dropping your phone once you realized it was warm.

Not skin warm, no, but rather it was giving off its own heat, and you yanked your sleeve down, turning your hand over so you could actually get a good look at it. Your own mark was a set of lines, looping together to form something that looked somewhat like a clover, and once you got a decent look at it you realized that it had changed from a shade that was a bit lighter than your own skin to an almost peach-pink.

You felt sick to your stomach. Out here? Of all places? Seriously? You were nothing short of perplexed by this. You were wandering through the woods of a country you’d lived in for barely a year, and yet you, supposedly, would meet your soulmate out here? It confused you greatly, and you were left absolutely dumbfounded by this.

Your thoughts were interrupted as a few droplets of rain landed on your skin, and glancing up at the sky through the trees you realized that storm clouds were closing in, and you needed to get back to your car as quickly as possible.

But you, in your daydreams of a stress-free life and deep thoughts regarding your future, had apparently not paid attention in the slightest to the direction you headed in. You were still on a trail, yes - but there were multiple around you, all branching off from the one you were currently walking on. Which one did you come off of? Which direction? The hike wasn’t uphill in the slightest so you had no way of figuring out which way headed towards the road.

Shit.

None of the three paths looked familiar enough for you to determine them as the right one, and the last thing you wanted was to take the wrong path and end up actually lost. Weighing your options for a second, you decided to take the left-most one and figured it was your best bet. The sky was darkening quickly out of both the approaching storm and it being evening, and not wanting to get caught in the worst of the storm you tucked your phone back into your pocket and broke into a light jog.

The further you went, though, you felt your heart sink.

You’d gone the wrong way.

Now you sure didn’t recognize your surroundings in even the slightest - you’d never passed an uprooted tree like that, and even though you were lost in your own thoughts on your way through you would’ve been able to remember passing one.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you pivoted back around, taking off in the direction you’d come from. The woods were darkening quickly, and you were absolutely terrified at the thought of getting lost out there in the dark. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you opened your camera app with the hope that the flash from the camera would be enough to light your way - you didn’t want to risk draining the battery by using its actual flashlight function. Every few seconds you’d take a picture, the flash illuminating the path just enough for you to see a few feet in front of you, and while it was hardly enough to see it would have to do for the time being.

You felt dizzy with anxiety; you’d always read about how dangerous it was to panic in situations like this and always told yourself that you’d be level headed enough to avoid it, but you managed to prove yourself so, so wrong. You clutched your wrist in your hand, relying on the warmth of your lovemark to warm your hand up as it was becoming horribly stiff from the cold. The rain was pouring down by now and the phone of your screen was absolutely drenched, and you realized that you needed to keep it dry in your pocket because otherwise it would end up water damaged, and you really didn’t have the funds to get it fixed if that happened.

You were left with only the slowly receding light of the sky and the knot in your stomach as you ran along what you hoped was still the path, mentally berating yourself for being such an idiot.

Only you, of all people, would manage to get lost in woods you’d never been in.

As you trudged on, you wrapped your arms around yourself as best as you could in an attempt to keep yourself as warm as possible. It was completely futile, though, as you were already shivering viciously and your joints ached from the cold. No matter where you held yourself - your hands on your shoulders, in your pockets, clutching your wrists, nothing - you felt no relief from the freezing rain and air. The only thing that you had to guide you in even the slightest was your mark, which was becoming uncomfortably warm the further you walked.

Were you about to meet them? How on earth would you, anyway - would you run into them? Were they out here in the woods, too? Were you about to run into a serial killer or something? Oh god, what if you found someone trying to hide a body or doing something as equally as disturbing? Were you going to die?

Well, you most likely would die, if you didn’t get shelter. It seemed dramatic, yes, but considering how soaked through you were combined with the plummeting temperature of the air, you feared that you may end up with hypothermia if you didn’t get warm soon.

Soon though, you realized you weren’t going to come across a dead body or some unpleasant stranger in the woods, but instead a sign of hope.

After stumbling around in the woods for god knows how long, you ended up in what appeared to be a driveway. It was large, paved, and the path that you hoped would lead to some sort of shelter - if you managed to pick the right direction, that is. That thought was short lived though as soon, you realized that you didn’t need to choose a direction because you saw a faint light at the far end to your right. Whether it was a cabin, a warehouse, an oddly placed gas station you didn’t care; you just needed to get out of the cold as soon as you could, and you broke out in a sprint towards it.

The closer you got to it, the better you were able to see where you were - in the front yard of a large, stone manor. It stood grandly in the middle of a small clearing, tucked away so perfectly in the woods that it wasn’t visible from the roads you’d come from. You fought the urge to just run up the stairs - you couldn’t just trespass like that, no way. You’d seen countless horror flicks; film after film about what happens to unwelcome trespassers and you didn’t particularly care about ending up chained to a radiator in someone’s basement or becoming the nth victim to a family of cannibals.

The soft light glowing in one of the front windows hinted that someone was home, and you realized that you’d really had no other choice but to swallow the lump in your throat, take a deep breath, and climb the stone stairs to the huge porch. The porch was massive, long, and lined with enough doors on the wall that you had no clue which to go to - how many damn doors did one house need?

The large oak door situated in the middle of the porch seemed to be your best bet, and after trying to peer through one of the large windows to see if anyone was in there, you hesitantly reached up and knocked briskly on the door, waiting a few seconds.

No answer.

You debated on if it would be a smart idea to knock again - what if no one was home, or if they were asleep? You didn’t want to wake anyone up or anger anyone by suddenly pounding on their door at some ungodly hour of the night, but what other choice did you have? You were hopelessly lost, the rain was freezing cold, and you knew that if you went back out there you’d end up in an even worse position. You shifted your weight back and forth on your feet, wracking your brain for any other possible option other than the obvious one.

Fuck it, you thought. I’m already lost, not like much else could go wrong.

You brought your fist up to the door and knocked yet again, your knuckles sore and raw from a combination of the cold and being knocked against the hard door repeatedly. You prayed something would happen, that someone, anyone, would answer - even if it was just to tell you to get off their property. Anything was fine in your book.

No response, again.

With a defeated sigh you pressed your forehead against the door, your hands resting against it as well. Your heart was heavy with defeat and hopelessness, and you sank down to sit, resting against the door as you tried to figure out what else you could do. It was pitch black out now, and the rain showed no sign of letting up any time soon. You pulled your phone out, your hands trembling as you unlocked it and saw that it was almost 9:30 at night - you’d been gone for almost over an hour at this point. You had only one bar, and it wasn’t nearly enough for any of your GPS or map apps to open and load properly.

It looked like you’d be here until morning, if you even lasted that long.

You hadn’t been this cold in ages; you were trembling violently at this point and your clothes were practically glued to your skin. Your hands and feet were growing numb from cold, and you were worried that your fingers would become too stiff to move soon. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them as you cradled your warm wrist against your chest as best as you could.

You had no clue how long you sat there for before you heard a soft thump come from behind the door, startling you from your rest. You jumped up (or rather tried to, you were still entirely too stiff to make any quick movements) and watched as the door slowly creaked open on its own - no sign of another person on the other side.

The house is old, you told yourself. The latch on the door was probably old and weak, too - that’s all it was. There’s no way it was opened purposefully for you.

But what if it was? If the latch was shoddy, why didn’t it open when you knocked on it? Surely, if it wasn’t weak enough for it to open from you knocking on it, or from the pressure of you leaning on it, then it wouldn’t be so weak that it would open from literally nothing.

Maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that you were welcome to come in.

You fought the urge to just run right in, trepidation preventing you from making any hasty decisions as you slowly stepped inside, immediately sighing heavily with relief once you realized how much warmer it was inside. Seeing as no one was there to confront you, you took that as the opportunity to look around at your surroundings; the dimly, but cozily lit foyer you stood in. To the left of you was what appeared to be a sort of den with multiple bookshelves lining the walls, a spinet with yellowed keys resting in the middle of the room. Directly ahead of you was a long hallway that led off into darkness; a bit up on the left was another room that, from what you could see, contained a rather large staircase, and to your right was a fireplace that seemed as if it hadn’t been used in years.

The whole area appeared to be almost totally untouched by any sign of life - it looked more like a sort of display set up for people to tour while learning about the house’s history, or something like that. You’d gone on field trips like that as a child.

The house’s interior was beautiful.

“Hello?” You called out, your voice shaky and hushed. You refrained from being loud, not wanting to disturb the residents any more than you probably already were with your intrusion. Noting the lack of any commotion or responding voices, you took a few weary steps forward, leaning forward and peering into the large room with the staircase to see if anyone was there. Of course there wasn’t, but sudden movement out of the corner of your eye caught you off guard and you jumped back to where you were before. Your heart beat sped up as you stared down the hallway, squinting as you forced your eyes to adjust to the darkness and settle on the humanoid figure at the end. Despite no features visible, the silhouette appeared to belong to an awfully tall man - who was probably staring right at you, unhappy with a complete stranger just barging into his house.

You needed to remedy any issues, before they arose.

“Excuse me - I’m sorry for the intrusion, but - I got lost while going for a hike and… it started to rain and I haven’t been able to find my way back to my car, I was hoping maybe you could point me toward the road.” It took you a second to find your voice, and when you did you worked hard to keep it as soft as possible, not wanting to come off as demanding or rude in any sort of way out of fear that the man may turn on you and throw you out - or worse.

When there was no response, you took a hesitant step forward, only for him to mirror your movements and move closer as well.

Though it creeped you out a bit, at least he acknowledged you this time.

“I really don’t mean to be a nuisance,” You spoke up, as your hand moved under the sleeve of your opposite arm and rubbed at the mark habitually. “But I really am lost and I’m not sure where I should go - ”

The mark was no longer warm.

Wait a minute, was it not just practically burning hot, not even 5 minutes ago? What happened? Did they, your apparent soulmate, move on? You didn’t know if you were more disappointed or confused, and you didn’t bother with finishing your sentence as you pulled your sleeve down.

Despite the light from above being dimmed now that you were further down the hallway, you were still able to see the mark enough to see what was wrong with it; it was no longer that soft, glowing, warm pink that it once was - instead, it had faded into a tattoo-like charcoal black that was numb to the touch.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak or even exclaim anything out of confusion. Your voice was caught in your throat and it felt like your heart had stopped beating altogether and the realization that this was him, this was your soulmate, hit you like a truck.

This was your soulmate - and that was a fact that he seemed completely aware of, judging by the quickness of his steps as he walked to you. He came into the faint light enough for you to see his messy hair and his face - or at least, the doll-like make that was covering it.

Holy shit.

“S-Sorry..” You barely managed to choke out a weak apology.

He towered over you and you were nothing short of intimidated by the situation, completely prepared to turn around and run right back out into the rain.

Before you could, though, his next movement caught you completely off guard: his much larger hand found its way to your left wrist, making an effort to be gentle with it as he lifted it up just enough for him to tug the saturated sleeve of your sweater down, revealing your mark - and also enough for him to position his own wrist just enough for you to see his matching one.

#request #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #the boy

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emotchalla · 5 years

Text

Tempt You - I.

A/N: Hello it’s me your neighborhood “I will have as many WIPs as I want” ass bitch back at it again with a new fic! I have not been enough of a Peaky Blinders whore on this blog and that is unfortunate because this show has owned my ass for the past 3 years. I’m particularly obsessed with one Mr. Michael Gray, and this AU is actually my own personal headcannon I’ve had stewing around in my brain for a while. It’s also loosely based on the summer I studied abroad in London and my desire to go back there! (This version of the reader is very very similar to me.) I got inspired to jot some sentences down a few days ago, and while I was traveling this weekend a bunch of it just sprawled out of me and well, here you go! This fic is inspired by “Tempt You (Evocatio)” by Nothing But Thieves, which you can listen to here. I suggest listening to the song at some point in this fic because it’s pretty integral to the way I see Michael’s perspective on this relationship. Alright let me shut up so you can get on with reading.

**All my works are written with a Black or POC reader in mind, because I am one myself, but all readers welcome!**

Pairing: Modern!Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

Summary: Modern!Michael Gray AU. Michael Gray has everything he wants. He’s the owner and senior partner of his own law firm; he’s paved his own path away from the family business. He’s past the wild, drunken nights and cocaine benders, the bloody noses and knife wounds and the fucking Catholics. And then he meets you. Suddenly Michael realizes that he doesn’t have everything after all.

Warnings: Swearing, Excessive flirting, Sexual tension, Michael gives off very strong sugar daddy vibes, Fluff...for now

Word Count: 3.2k+

series masterlist | main masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here | listen to “tempt you (evocatio)” here

There are a pair of eyes watching you. Warm, bright, and the prettiest shade of green with flecks of blue and gold and brown too. They’re curious eyes, ones that have been on you sine the stranger they belong to entered the Starbucks across the street from your job. He smiles softly as he watches you watch him observe you. You look up to catch his gaze and he winks. Shit. You quickly look back down at the script in front of you. You can still feel the heat of his stare as you pretend to study your lines, neglecting the obvious truth that you’d been distracted by this man from the moment he walked in.

He’s beautiful. Dangerously so, unbridled youth mixed with the right touch of reckless mischief, and a hint of danger. He’s more than his suit suggests he is. He all but smells of wealth, and your eyes glaze over with the thought of how much money it might have cost to buy that dark blue Giorgio Armani suit and sleek black Rolex. You’ve been watching him too. He clearly takes care of himself and seems to enjoy doing it. You can picture it all: the fancy tailors, exclusive barbers, personal drivers and chauffeurs, a butler, even. What you wouldn’t give to have a life light that, to not worry about your next meal or skip out on A/C for the summer to split your rent costs in half. You dropped nearly everything to move to London, and the job you’d secured at Shakespeare’s Globe wasn’t enough for you tp pay for rent and grad school tuition. You let yourself get lost in the fantasy you’ve created about this stranger, the idea of being able to live comfortably. It’s something you desire with every part of you.

You bite your lip as you daydream, oblivious to the fact that the stranger has left his table and approached yours. He stands and watches you for a second, amused by how easily you seem to preoccupy yourself. You’re not like other women he’s met, he knows that already. And he’s quickly overcome by the desire to know everything there is to know about you, from your favorite movies to the way you take your tea. You sigh as you start to upset yourself with so much wishful thinking, causing the stranger to chuckle, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. You jerk your head up toward the sound to be met with those beautiful green eyes, except they’re right across from you.

“Hello,” he says with a soft smile.

“H-Hi,” you stammer, completely caught off guard.

He’s even prettier up close. He gestures toward your neglected script.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot of lines to memorize. You’re an actor, then?”

You nod.

“Yes,” you answer. “Well, trying to be,” you correct.

He frowns.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m in school for acting, but I haven’t done much actual work apart from the scenes I’m assigned in class. I’m prepping for an audition, actually.”

You cut yourself off before you start to ramble, but the stranger doesn’t seem to mind. He looks at you expectantly, like he wants to know if you’ve finished your thought. You bite your lip to hold back the sea of worries threatening to push back your lips. This man doesn’t need to know how terrified you are about auditioning, the possibility that all of this—applying to RADA, getting accepted, moving to London, all of it—would end up being a massive failure.

“You’re an actor if you act, yeah?” he asks, and your heart flutters at the kindness in his voice.

“Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right.” you say, aiming to infuse more confidence in your voice.

He’s intimidating, but you won’t fold that easily.

“I often am,” he hums before gesturing toward the seat across from yours. “May I join you?”

You almost do a double take.

“Me?” you ask, not bothering to hide the shock in your voice.

The stranger smiles at you.

“Yes, you,” he answers, giving you that same smile.

“Sure.”

He slides the chair out from under the table before seating himself across from you.

“What play are you auditioning for?”

“Hamlet at the RSC,” you begin. “One of my professors at RADA knows the director and she told me that she thinks I may have a shot at being cast. I think it’s a fucking long shot but she’s scarily confident in me so I’m pushing myself to do it even though I’m terrified and—oh my god I’m so sorry! I was about to start going off the rails.”

He shakes his head. Up until you stopped yourself he’d been hanging on to your every word.

“Don’t apologize, Miss…” he falters.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I completely forgot to tell you my name.”

“It’s quite alright, Miss Y/N. I neglected to tell you mine as well,” he chuckles.

Almost immediately, you feel a familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach with the sound of his laugh. There’s no denying how attractive he is. You’d be kidding yourself to even try.

“I’m Michael,” he says, extending a hand across the table.

You reach out to shake it, but he pulls your hand toward his mouth instead, pressing a kiss to the skin.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Y/N,” he murmurs before releasing your hand from his grip.

Those green eyes are still fixed on yours and you resist the urge to flush and giggle uncontrollably like a schoolgirl. He’s a charmer, this one. You echo his pleasure of making your acquaintance, and Michael nods toward your script again.

“What part are you auditioning for?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Should you tell him? Would he laugh and tell you that you were right to worry? Would he shake his head and wish you luck, pitying you all the while?”

“Y/N?” he calls.

You look up to find his eyes still fiercely trained on you.

“What part are you auditioning for, love?”

“Hamlet,” you whisper. then brace yourself for his laughter.

Michael only looks at you with that curious interest from before.

“You must be quite the actress, then.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say.

“Huh?”

Michael smiles softly at you. He was right about you being different. Here you were, probably one of the most talented people he had ever met, and he can’t detect an ounce of arrogance from you. It was a nice change of pace from the world he was used to—one filled with people who would do anything to get ahead, even if that mean destroying a life. You’re nothing like that. You’re kind, humble. A touch insecure, he can tell, but adorably soft around the edges. You remind him of beautiful summer nights in the country, scenes from his boyhood after the orphanage, before he became a man committed only to his business. You’re something akin to home.

“You got into RADA, did you not?” Michael asks.

You nod.

“And you’re not from here, yeah?”

Michael already knows this but he wants to hear where you’re from, from your own mouth.

“No, from the States,” you answer. “Chicago.”

“Ahh, the Windy City,” he hums. “One of my favorites.”

This makes your eyes light up and the smile that crosses your lips is stunning. Michael decides right there that he wants to make you do that many, many times.

“When’s the last time you’ve been?” you ask.

“It’s been too long, I’m afraid. Although, I’ve been looking for a reason to go back.”

You don’t miss the subtle drop in his voice, the veiled suggestive nature imbedded within. You dare to look in his eyes and find that they’re just as intense as before, but there’s something else hidden there. A desire that matches yours.

“Well, if you feel inspired to take a visit, I think you should. Who knows, we could see each other there, too.”

“I’d quite like that,” he says, and his gaze is so intense that you have to break away to look anywhere else. Just for a moment. You reach toward your teacup to find it empty. You must have drained it earlier without recognizing.

“Would you like another one?”

You look up to find Michael nodding at your empty teacup.

“Oh, Michael, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

He smirks at you before reaching across the table to grab the empty cup from your hands.

“I promise you, Y/N, it won’t set me back. It’s just a cup of tea, love.”

You nod, unable to meet his beautiful eyes. You don’t know if he’s trying to woo you on purpose but he’s doing a damned good job regardless.

“Thank you, Michael,” you manage to mutter.

He smiles at you again.

“Have you had anything to eat?”

Michael knows the answer to this as well. He’d noticed your teacup and your head buried in that script as soon as he walked in, but he doesn’t want to let on how he’d been taken with you almost immediately. Not yet.

“No,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I needed the caffeine to power through these lines but I kind of forgot about food if I’m being honest.”

Michael nods. He’ll have to work on that with you.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You watch as he walks toward the front counter, peering at the pastries behind a glass case before heading to the register. You watch the barista at the register blush as Michael opens his mouth to order, and you fight to suppress a giggle at the bored expression on his face. He knows how attractive he is; you’re sure of that. You wonder how often he encounters people who forget how to function when he’s around.

Michael’s eyes find yours as he waits for your order, and he shoots a boyish wink at you before gesturing toward your lines. You shake your head and mock yawn. He grins. He’s just as eager to get back to the table and keep talking to you as you are for him to return. You relax into your seat as you watch him and sigh contentedly. You have no idea what the hell is going on, but you’re not complaining. Michael watches impatiently as the same barista from earlier fumbles her way through your order. Poor girl; you’d probably react just the same if you were in her place. She keeps batting her eyelashes and asking if he needs anything, to which he huffs in annoyance and scowls at her. It’s a reluctant game of cat and mouse, and you wonder if Michael might not be fond of attention. Eventually, the barista is able to get your order together, and you watch Michael pull a twenty pound note out of his wallet to slide across the counter to her. She all but faints at the sight of it, and you shake your head as Michael rolls his eyes and starts toward you.

“I apologize for whatever the hell that was,” he greets, setting a fresh cup of tea and a chocolate-filled croissant in front of you.

“I thought it was cute. You’re cute when you’re flustered, that is,” you say, already reaching for the croissant.

Michael’s eyes are bright as he smirks at you.

“You think I’m cute?”

You roll your eyes at him.

“You obviously know you are.”

He chuckles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever considered myself ‘cute’ in my life,” he jokes, relief settling into his skin as he watches you eat.

“Well you can lie to yourself all you want but I said what I said.”

Michael’s eyebrows raise. So you have got a mouth on you after all.

“Oh, is it like that?”

You watch as his tongue darts out to lick along his bottom lip and briefly lose yourself at the thought of having that same tongue somewhere else.

“Thank you for entertaining the obviously infatuated barista to get me something to eat,” you say sincerely, and the mood shifts.

You are so unbelievably sweet, Michael thinks. He wants to corrupt you. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. Michael asks you more about how you made it to London, and you talk him through the whirlwind of your life post-undergrad. You had always intended on becoming a professional actor, but the road was hard and nothing was certain. You’d bounced around between part-time jobs to help your dad around the house as you transitioned into postgrad life, but you knew that wasn’t where you wanted to be. In your sophomore year of college, you got the opportunity to study Shakespeare in London for the summer and since then, you’d wanted to return: for grad school this time. You went out on a limb and applied to the Royal Academy of the Dramatic Arts—one of the hardest acting schools in London, let alone the world, to get into—and by some grace of god, you were admitted. You moved at once. Packed up your few belongings and took a one-way flight to London, your fancy new student visa gripped tightly in your hand. You wormed your way into a position as an administrative assistant at Shakespeare’s Globe, but had yet to land an acting gig whose stipend might help ease the burden of your constantly accumulating bills. You were one of the only Americans in your program, and while you were well-liked, you felt like you always had to prove yourself. It was a lot of pressure.

“No wonder you’re so stressed about this audition,” Michael mutters, his beautiful face set in a frown.

You shrug.

“If I get it, it’ll be amazing but if not I’ll figure something out. I have to.”

You look down at your teacup, keeping your eyes trained on the dark liquid to prevent budding tears from falling. Michael sighs. He takes the time to think about what he’s planning to offer, and measures his words. He doesn’t want to scare you off, but he wants to help.

“Y/N, I—”

A shrill ring cuts him off. Michael rolls his eyes and pulls a cell phone from his pocket. He taps the screen before pressing it to his ear.

“Gray,” he answers.

You watch as he gets pulled into what is obviously a work call. He glances over at your half-eaten croissant.

Eat, he mouths.

“So bossy,” you whisper, picking up the pastry.

Brat, he mouths again, watching you start to eat the rest of the croissant. His assistant, Finn—also his younger cousin—was calling to remind him about a meeting with a client he’d definitely forgotten, and he couldn’t be bothered to care about it when you were sat in front of him.

“I’ll be back to the office soon, Finn,” he groans. “We can talk about it there.”

Finn must say something snarky because Michael laughs before muttering ‘fuck off,’ and hanging up.

“Sorry about that, love,” he apologizes.

You shake your head.

“You’re a busy man I assume?”

He chuckles to himself.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

You take the last bite of your croissant, and Michael hums to himself, happy that you’ve gotten something on your stomach. He clears his throat.

“I wanted to ask you something, Y/N.”

You smile at him before taking a sip of tea.

“Shoot.”

“What would you say if I offered to help out with your bills?”

You nearly choke on your tea.

“If you what?”

“Well, I was thinking earlier—when you were talking about school and making rent—that if I helped you out with that bit, things could be a little easier on you.”

He blushes crimson when he says it, green eyes searching yours. You shake your head.

“Michael, I could never pay you back for that.”

“You wouldn’t have to. I want to help you, Y/N.”

You sigh.

“Can I…can I think about it? This is all a little…”

“Overwhelming?” he suggests.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He smiles at you.

“Take all the time you need, love.”

He reaches across the table to take your hand in his.

“Let me build you something better, Y/N,” he whispers.

You know that if you look into his eyes right now you will combust. You need to relieve the tension somehow.

“You know,” you joke. “Sugar daddies are supposed to be old.”

Michael roars with laughter and you can’t help but giggle along wit him as people’s heads turn in your direction, the entirety of Starbucks now focused on your table tucked in the back corner. Even the flirty barista watches the two of you, eyeing your hand clasped in Michael’s, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

“Is that what I’d be?” he asks, amused.

You giggle again.

“Pretty much.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m much more of a ‘sir’ than a ‘daddy,’ but I’ll play your game, sweet thing.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as his words take their effect on you. You look up to find him watching you, awaiting your next move. Before you can respond, his phone cuts through the conversation again.

“Fucking hell, Finn,” he growls, before he silences the ringer.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, eyes back on yours.

“I’d like that.”

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

A small smile crosses your lips as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Going out with you.”

He grins at you before pulling his hand away from yours to grab his phone. He hands it to you.

“Put your number in there. I’ll text you.”

You nod and type in your number before handing the phone back to him. He moves to stand up from the table, and your disappointment must show on your face because he smiles down at you.

“I gotta head back to the office before Finn bloody tracks me down and drags me there himself,” he apologizes, reaching for the suit jacket he’d strung across the back of the chair.

You watch the fabric of his shirt flex and stretch around taut muscle as he shrugs the jacket on, and Michael doesn’t miss the way your teeth graze that plump bottom lip of yours. He’s just as attracted to you as you are to him, and he wants to tell Finn to piss off and spend the rest of the day chauffeuring you around the city and spoiling you absolutely rotten. It’s been a long time since he’s wanted someone like this, and Michael is thrilled that it’s you. He reaches down to cup your cheek in his hand.

“I’ll text you, yeah?”

You nod. Michael pulls away from you and gets his wallet from his pocket. He pulls out a business card and slides it over to you. He gives you one last wink before he’s gone, out of the Starbucks and into the busy London afternoon. You bring your teacup to your lips. The liquid inside has since grown cold but there’s a fire ablaze within you. Michael fucking Gray.

wanna be tagged in this series? click the link above!

#michael gray au #michael gray #michael gray smut #modern michael gray #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders smut #new fic #emotchalla writes

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rogerina-deacon · 5 years

Text

Looking Through the Eyes of Love // Part 1

Pairing: Brian May X American!Fem!Reader

Warning: Nothing really, there’s a bit of fluff and one swear.

Summary: When the reader moves in with her old host brother from when she was a foreign exchange student, her and a certain guitarist quickly hit it off.

Word Count: 1447

August 14, 1970

Early on in the brisk Friday morning, a cool chill taking over as the summer comes to an end, your 12 hour flight to Heathrow makes a steady decline. Awoken by what may be the most comforting, motherly voice you had ever heard, you slowly opened your eyes, happier than ever to be that much closer to the man who you call your best friend. During your junior year of high school, an opportunity to study abroad in England for your senior year was offered to you. You accepted immediately, and that’s how you met John. His parents had signed up to be your host parents, thus making John your host brother. You became best friends, but before you knew it, the school year ended. After taking a year off to travel around Europe, you decided to go to University. When you told John, he practically forced you to become his roommate. So you did, and here you were, about to step into the airport where he had gotten up at 6:00 AM to make sure he would arrive before your flight arrived. Thank god for cafes in airports, or he may not have survived the two hours waiting for you to arrive.

“Deaks!” you practically screeched, seeing him sat at a bar stool, his long hair a bit of a mess, a cigarette placed lightly between his lips. He instantly turned around, a huge smile already on his face. Any indicators that he was severely sleep deprived from shows and getting your room ready almost disappeared when the corners of his mouth nearly reached his ears. Putting out the cigarette quickly, he ran over to you, enveloping you in a warm hug before grabbing your luggage. He directed you out of the airport and into a cab, telling the driver his - your - apartment’s address.

“So, how were your travels! Worth putting off school for a year?” John asked, grinning like a madman, his hand clenching yours

“Absolutely! I have so many pictures to show you of every place I saw, every person I met, and even every meal I ate. I have more pictures than anyone should ever take in their life.” You respond, a giggle erupting as you finished your sentence. John just smiled, so happy to have you back, like a sibling coming home after leaving for the first time.

The drive was 20 minutes full of reconnecting, inside jokes, and anecdotes from your travels. You were almost upset when the cab driver pulled up to yours and John’s place, opening up the trunk for you two to grab your bags. John led you up, and fumbling for the keys with full hands. Stepping into your new home, you took everything in. John had sent pictures from before he decorated, and you almost didn’t recognize it. He had put a new coat of paint on the walls, freshening up the dirty white which had developed through the years of improper cleaning. He had a nice area rug positioned under the couch and coffee table up against the wall of the living area, in the shape of a rectangle, a fluffy array of various grays and dusty teal. A TV sat just out of reach of the rug, a small cacti sat atop the box-like electronic. In the corner sat two mismatched living chairs, one on either side of a bookshelf made of an old ladder. John definitely understood what you meant when you said “rustic bohemian.” He had a record player up against the wall on the corner leading into the hallway, stacks of vinyls lining the wall. Opposite the records was the kitchenette, a small dining table with four chairs around it the center of it all. The last you had seen of the apartment, it was akin to a ghost town, it’s past engraved in its walls. But, John had turned it into something you felt you could live in forever.

John quickly showed you to your room, a soft glow emitting from the single window placed opposite your bed. He had gotten you all the essentials, knowing you would know just how to make the space yours. A rustic, cherry-stained oak dresser was in the corner, and you began to unpack your belongings. He left you to do this while simply waited in the living room for you to be done, figuring that him trying to help may result in just talking and not actually putting your clothes away.

Just as you finished folding your last shirt, you realized the chatter coming from the living room. Knowing that you didn’t look presentable for company, you quickly changed out of your sweatpants and into a pair of jeans, and opting for a white tank top and knit cardigan instead of an over-sized sweatshirt with “ITALY” written in green, white, and red sewn patches you picked up in Florence during your travels. Walking into the living room, you’re greeted with all eyes on you, as if they weren’t expecting to see you. After a few moments of awkward stares, the blond broke the silence.

“Well done, John! Never expected to see a strange woman walking ‘round your flat!” He said, patting John on the back with wide eyes.

“She isn’t some strange woman, Rog, she’s my old host sister. Remember?” He said, getting up to introduce you to his friends. “Guys, this is Y/N. I told you guys all week that she was moving in today, remember?”

“Oh, how could we forget, darling. You hardly shut up about her. Roger here just has shit memory” the man with dark brown hair assured your friend that people did pay attention to him. He reached out a hand and finally introduced himself. “Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Freddie, lead vocals for the band. That there, as you’ve probably caught on, is Roger, he drums, and that lanky poodle in the corner is our guitarist, Brian.”

“I think I can introduce her myself, Fred.” John groaned, wishing he could get a word in even when it came to his own best friend.

You had barely noticed Brian, he was so focused on his book when you walked into the room as he sat in the reading corner. But as soon as Roger teased John, his eyes perked up and didn’t leave you until Fred said his name. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he realized he was staring at you, immediately getting up to say a proper hello.

“Hi, lovely meeting you, Y/N.”

“Lovely meeting you too, Brian.” you replied warmly, making eye contact with the tall man. “I noticed you reading a book over there, what was it on? If you don’t mind my asking.”

He beamed, a toothy smile spreading across his face. “Oh, um, I don’t mind at all. They might though, Rog hates it when I go on rambles about this stuff. It’s, uh, on reflected light from interplanetary dust. Quite fascinating, really, though I haven’t met many people outside of class willing to hear me ramble on about these kinds of things.”

“Well, I’d love to hear more about it. I’m not normally much of a science person, but I’m sure you could find a way to dumb it down for me” you offered, a giggle escaping. “But of course, that means you’d have to deal with me and my psychology rambles.” As a passionate psych major, you had already read more than your fair share of books on various psychologists and their findings. With the amount of research you’d done, you could probably teach a course of your own with material to spare.

“I’d love to, although you’d have to dumb all of that down for me, as well. Maybe we could ramble to each other over some tea sometime?” He proposed, looking at you hopefully.

“That would be great, just tell me the time and place and I’ll be there.” You replied, almost too excitedly.

“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but while you two have been off being all smart together, we’ve been trying to decide on a place to go to for lunch. Any input? Y/N, your voice matters the most, as it’s your first day back in England since god knows when.” Freddie quickly grabs your attention, and you had to think it over for a minute. You had passed by quite a few places that looked good, but decided on a pizza place not far called Minnelli's. The guys seemed content with that answer, and John celebrated as he knew you would choose that place. You all slipped on your shoes and coats, walking out of the apartment and over to the pizza place.

A/N:That’s all for part 1! Please tell me what you think, I’d love to hear some feedback. Also, this is my first fic, so thanks for reading it at all! Until next time!

#brian may #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #brian may x reader #queen #queen fic #looking through the eyes of love rogerina_deacon

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scarlettsabetlondongirl · 6 years

Photo

The Town and The City Festival Lowell, MA October 19 & 20, 2018 – Day 1 – The Poets by Kathy Murray for Live Music News and Review

An interview with Scarlett Sabet

I had first heard about the innaugural run of The Town and The City Festival on Instagram from the acclaimed poetess, Scarlett Sabet. The festival had been created surrounding the life and works of Jack Kerouac, a Lowell resident for most of his life. Scarlett herself was an avid fan of Kerouac, and she was traveling from England to perform a reading for the festival. I was absolutely thrilled. I had been waiting for her to come back to the States, more specifically to the Northeast, so that I could go see her read. I had been a fan of her poetry for quite some time, but had only seen snippets of her incredibly moving readings online and I could not wait to experience it firsthand.

I reached out to her soon after getting my press credentials for the show, to find out if she would like to sit down for an interview. I was pleasantly surprised when she agreed, and doubly so when she asked if I would like to also include the poet Janaka Stucky, who was on the bill with her that night. I, of course, was more than happy to agree!

We had discussed meeting at the venue just after they did their soundcheck at about 6:00pm, to allow enough time before the readings began. When I arrived, I entered the Parish Hall, and waited while one of the staff went to get Scarlett and Janaka. When they came out, Scarlett greeted me like an old friend, giving me a big hug, and I presented her with a small token of appreciation for agreeing to do our interview, a painting I had done for her. Janaka suggested we go into the room that had been set up as the ‘Green Room’ for the event, so we made our way in there.

Kathy: With ‘Zoreh’, I noticed that with ‘Elegy’, well first, it’s like the longest piece in the book, and I was wondering, what was your inspiration for it?

Scarlett: So with ‘Elegy’, whenever I read it, I always say this is a poem I didn’t want to write; but I knew I’d have to. It was, I mean, it was personal grief across death, and also kind of old grief, reliving childhood stuff. I’m sure there are more layers to come, but when you’re an adult, you kind of think okay, I’ve already dealt with anything that upset me as a kid. But it’s events that happen that kind of brought it up again, and I was like, I’m going to give myself one poem for this and that’s it. I was abroad this January, and it was like the pressure, with just the physical moving, and I just sat down and just wrote it all. Pretty much that’s just how it came out. And it is a long one, and it’s interesting performing it.

Kathy: Very raw. Very emotional. I know I definitely connected with it having lost numerous people in my life, not just as an adult, but at a very young age, and experiencing grief at very different emotional levels. You can definitely feel the emotion of the piece and connect with it through that.

Scarlett: That’s good. That’s good, because I think something like that personal grief, you don’t want it to be – and this is the other thing of being an adult, being like well everyone goes through this. I think there’s a line in the poem like, ‘but what about this is special, that which has happened to you?’ because part of it’s like pull yourself together, you know, getting sick of yourself. And it just becomes the wait, and that thing of ‘it’s going to take time’ and then the question ‘well how long does time take?’. People are like, ‘time takes time, give time time’. Like, no one wants to hear that, I want to be better now. And looking back, I learned so much and I’m a stronger person getting on the other side of it. But it was uncomfortable, but I also think that it’s uncomfortable, awkward things, restriction or difficulties, you know, good things come out of it sometimes.

Kathy: There’s an element of rediscovery of yourself. I know in some ways it was for me. One of the parts I was curious of; you spoke of the ‘wet isle of Lavender in bloom’. What isle were you talking about?

Scarlett: It’s a place called the Isle of Bute in Scotland. So my mom is French-Scottish, and it was where her burial was taking place. And I’ve got generations of family buried there. And it was just going over on the ferry, and I know I say in the poem that it was ‘small and unrelenting’ cause it was just like, ‘Why am I in London? I should just move here,’ you know what I mean? And I was just reassessing stuff, and it just made a mockery of city life; it was all the stuff of it, like it was this tiny small place, but it was making a pilgrimage back to it. I hadn’t been there with someone, I hadn’t been there since I was seventeen, so a hell of a lot had happened. So it had been, like, ten years, and it was very interesting, just the gap of what had changed personally and professionally. What is also interesting, the Marquess of Bute, the nobleman that lived there – and his descendants still live there – in the Victorian times, commissioned William Burges to build The Tower House (in Kensington), where he was Burges’ patron. So that was kind of an interesting thing. And Mount Stuart is also very similar to the Tower Houses design.

Kathy: So I know that we talked online about this, but there’s a common astrological theme that moves throughout ‘Zoreh’, and I know that you’re very into astrology, as am I, being Pagan. I wondered how you got into it initially and how you choose to incorporate it into your work.

Scarlett: That’s a good question. It was actually when Jimmy and I got together. We’d been together a couple of months, and he was like, ‘Let’s get your chart done.’ I knew my Sun sign but I didn’t know anything beyond that. So we got it done. And he opened it and was like hmmm, and I was like what does that mean? And I was like wait he’s got the blueprint to me and I don’t want to see this; let’s put it away. So I got really superstitious, and I put it away for a year. And then I read it, and it was actually really good, it was really accurate. And just kind of delving into it, and studying it; I think good astrology is very mathematical, it’s, you know, physics and math and it’s an ancient science. I think it is just, with bad astrology, I always say especially referencing ‘Lilith in the Midheaven’ from ‘Zoreh’, I always say that bad astrology gives good astrology a bad name. And when you mention it [astrology], people are like, oh you believe in that; it’s like yeah, I do believe in the coordinates, and the position of where I was born.

I think Ted Hughes was very into astrology and he was very connected to nature, the kind of bloodiness of nature, and he wrote a letter of his daughter’s birth chart when she was born (Frieda Hughes). Every President up until JFK had an astrologer and, it’s just, it’s not something new, it’s something old that’s kind of been lost touch with. I don’t know, looking back, it’s certain astrological points denote my life. Going back to ‘Elegy’, Neptune and Sagittarius, those 2 years from 2015 to 2017, were pretty intense for me. I’m Sagittarius rising, and obviously now I’ve got a Saturn return, which is really interesting. So there’s a new poem I’ll be reading tonight as well where I mention Kerouacs astrology. It’s something that is there, that I use in the imagery, and people can delve more into it if they want to. And people, like yourself, that already get the references. But, like with ‘Lilith in the Midheaven’, I like the structure of the Synastry [chart], and just discovering it and being like like ‘oh so that’s why its like that’.

Kathy: So it’s funny that you had mentioned ‘Lillith’, because that was actually going to be my next question for you. People interpret all art differently, and the way that I was experiencing it, was that love kind of renews your life every day. And how you can find somebody that is your signs mate and the connections that you share across those intricate ties. Like, within myself, finding someone who can feed my creative fire, and reciprocate it, which I feel is very important to a strong relationship. Now, I was going to ask your thoughts on that, but you already answered that in my last question to you. Who would you consider, other than Kerouac, your poetic infulences to be?

Scarlett: Influences? That’s really interesting. I think I always say Ted Hughes and a lot of people are like, ‘but Sylvia Plath, don’t you like her?’. And I do, but there’s something about Ted Hughes. He’s so fairly, or unfairly, targeted after the very tragic circumstances of both of his wives [Sylvia Plath and Assia Wevill] suicides, and I kind of admire the way he carried on regardless. And also, just the kind of bloodiness, just…the intensity of his work, the bloodiness of nature, his whole energy and focus, and just how prolific he was. I think he’s an influence, not necessarily in style but in just [that raw emotion] yeah and I think it’s continuing on in the face of adversity. I also think it’s really interesting that he’d written all these love poems for Sylvia Plath that he didn’t publish until nine months before he died, and if he’d done that earlier, the public perception of him might have been a bit more sympathetic, and he kind of kept it to himself. And when his daughter – he won an award for it after his death, collected it on his behalf, she quoted him, I’m just paraphrasing, she said, ‘it’s a shame we have to give away our secrets’, which was just really interesting, him referring to the fact, that he released this massive volume of love poems for Sylvia Plath, which kind of proved that he did care.

But intense influence, obviously my partner [Jimmy Page] is very influential, just in terms of how hard working he is and still is. And really, if I have an editor, it’s him. Like, and it’s funny, with ‘Lilith and the Midheaven’, the night before I sent it to the publisher, I was like, “Oh, I’m not sure, I don’t know, I was going to cut some stuff out”, and he was like, “Why are you doing that? That’s good, keep that in.” And he actually read [aloud] ‘Lillith in the Midheaven’. I was really questioning it. And he read it and in his voice I think, just the separation, it not being in my voice, I was like, ‘Oh okay, you know, I’m good with it.’ And he was like, “Yeah, you see, let’s keep that in, yeah?” So I did. And obviously talent is good and essential, but it’s just also working really hard and letting go of stuff. So I think he’s a great example for me, on a day to day basis.

Kathy: I want to ask both of you this next question – do you have any reading’s coming up?

Scarlett: Yeah, so I’ve got in November in London I’m doing actually a kind of reading at the Troubador, and I’m doing it with Reel Art Press, because they put out a beat book earlier this year, so we’re kind of going to be exhibiting some beat paraphernalia, some of Ginsberg’s letters, and photos from the beat book. I’m going to be performing with this amazing poet called, Oakley, and I saw him perform, well we performed together at the Byline Festival [August 2018]. That’s real exciting.

Kathy: Will either of you be performing any of Jack Kerouacs works tonight?

Scarlett: I’m performing tonight a poem I wrote kind of as soon as it was confirmed I was doing this event; so what is interesting is, Janaka and I, this is only the second time we’ve met. But we’ve got a friendship spanning years now, and its through correspondence because obviously we live in different countries. But the common thread that brought us together is the Beats. So we met at the 50th anniversary of the Holy Communion, and the Holy Communion was a four hour poetry reading in London at the Royal Albert Hall in 1965 that Jimmy went to. So we went to the 50th anniversary of that, and Janaka was this stand out poet and I was just like, ‘fuck, who is this guy??’ We connected through social media, and then when I was bringing out Zoreh and set to perform at City Lights, they were like okay we’ll find a poet for you to read with. I said, no, I know who I want to read with. And I said to him, okay we’ve never met, and I don’t know you, but if you’re able to fly to San Francisco in March? and Janaka was like yeah, I can do it. So we met for the first time, a half an hour before. And it was at that reading that we met Chris Porter and he came up to us at the end and was like, hey I’m doing this thing in Lowell, and my eyes like lit up, because when I read at Wellesley College, I visited and paid my respects in Lowell at Kerouacs grave, so coming here feels like everything aligned. When this was confirmed I wrote a poem for Jack Kerouac, just kind of it had so much beauty and purity to it as well but obviously kind of the tragedy, of his demise kind of drinking himself to death, and just being ridiculed as well being because he was new, he was popular. People said he was not a real writer. Kapote said he’s not writing, he’s just typing. So anyway, I’m performing a poem that’s still a work in progress, but it just felt right to share and infuse it with the energy of this evening. So I’m looking forward to doing that.

Kathy: They [Jimmy Page, Robert Plant and John Paul Jones] just put out a new book, ‘Led Zeppelin by Led Zeppelin’, it features never before seen photos and correspondences. Can you respond to that? What is your take on it, like what do you think of it?

Scarlett: Can you believe that there are still never been seen images? I think the book is really important because it’s from the people that were actually there and lived it. And obviously it’s Jimmy’s band, and he created it and his notes you know he’s got a great memory. He was there and he was creating it and everything he did was intentional. And I think people always assume he’s so mysterious but even like on his website, that changes ever day, if you just look he’s giving you the answers. But I feel like so often there are books or interviews people do with him and they’ll ask him questions about an alleged story that may or may not have happened that keeps getting repeated and they want an updated quote on something that may not even be true. And I think it’s really, if you want to know anything about him, just read his own words and the music and that’s where kind of the motivation and the fact that he’s still working like 12 hour days, like insane work ethic, 50 years later, is why he is where he is and who he is. So I never have an excuse, no matter, you know my day job or whatever else I’ve been doing, I can never like slack because he’s there like, I can’t complain about being tired. And he has children and is a great dad so it’s like God I can’t complain about it. So I say get it because he really respects and loves people like you, and his fans, who love his music and get it and I think a lot of what he does it out of respect for that.

Scarlett came up next, performing pieces from Zoreh, The Lock and The Key and Rocking Underground, as well as her work-in-progress poem to Jack Kerouac. I can honestly say that reading her poetry is amazing, but hearing her read her poetry is an experience unto itself. The power and emotion that she conveys when she speaks her written word is cathartic.

#scarlett sabet #jimmy page #jimmy page girlfriend #led zeppelin #poet #poetry #the town and the city #the town and the city festival #zoreh #The lock and the key #Rocking Underground

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