#and later it was this short series of books that was like 'my summer journals' that was kinda similar to doawc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-bat-collector · 4 years ago

Text

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 1

I love NO POWERS NO CAPES AUs but its been so hard to find them!! so decided to make this list to help y’all in your search :D

The length varies, but I prefer long fics so most of these are 10-20k up to 200k

Heart and Soul by Pandamomochan

E - 150,044

Clark Kent used to be a renowned composer who was said to be able to write masterpieces that were designed uniquely for each individual player. Famous musicians around the world would flock to him in hopes that he would write for them because his pieces were always said to bring out any player's crowning performance. That is, until one day Clark loses his wife in a tragic accident and decides never to write again.

Years later, Clark's son, Jon, gets admitted to the famous "Gotham School of Performing Arts". It is there that Clark meets Bruce Wayne, a strict, uptight, by the book piano instructor who is said to be able to craft the best musicians around the world.

this is one of my favorites. I'm not really into Hurt/Comfort but this is so beautiful!! highly recommended I'm biased cause I play the piano

Seeing Bruce Wayne by Evilpixie

E - 15,089

Clark Kent is the only male midwife working in Metropolis General. Bruce Wayne the residential pediatric surgeon.

I'm so into medicine/doctor AUs this is also one of my favorite fics!if you have to pick one from this list, pick this one!!!

On The Cusp by vesper_house

E - 47,378

Clark's life isn't going so well. He's in his thirties, he works at a coffee shop run by his old crush, his journalism career is going nowhere, and he's broke. It takes only one tall, dark and handsome stranger to change everything.

COFFE SHOP AU COFFESHOP AU!! We need more of these, the dynamic between Bruce and Clark is Great!!!!

A Game You Can't Win by NightFoliage

T - 78,328

Injustice is the hottest MMORPGs available to play! Set in a world where superpowers exist, players can become civilians, heroes, villains, and anybody in-between. Designed by Hiro “Toyman” Okamura, and Timothy Drake-Wayne, Injustice was created with the best Wayne Industries technology available and has the most human NPCs. The game is beyond it's time and is planned to be at the top of the charts for a while.

By accident, Clark finds himself pushed into the spotlight and new found fame. To him, Let’s Plays are a means to stay in touch with friends and to make money. He never got into LPing to become famous.

Bruce, who funded the game after Jason’s accident, is irritated (not jealous) that a video game player is such a big topic among the kids. After the nth time they mention him, Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands and see what all the fuss is about.

link to art

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SUPERBAT FICS OUT THERE!!!!!! this is great and fun and Clark is the best!

As We Grow by butterflyslinky

E - 23,451

Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.

But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.

Modern Medicine by BuckinghamAlice

G - 5,208

Pediatrician Dr. Clark Kent becomes beloved to his patients, the Wayne boys... as well as to their doting father Bruce.

ABSOLUTELY lovely and adorable, you get the feels!

Hellooooo, nurse! by weirdraccoon INCOMPLETE WIP

T - ?????

Clark enjoys his job at the Free Clinic. He loves helping people and tending injuries. Saving lives. But this man... Bruce Wayne is going to kill him if he doesn't get killed first.

Bruce is still Batman on this one but HERE ME OUT, Clark is a nurse! is incomplete but looking forward to the following chapters!!

Two Cities by EllenD

E - 96,152

Clark Kent, is simply Clark Kent, junior reporter for the Daily Planet who moved to Metropolis from Smallville with big dreams. Bruce Wayne is a billionaire playboy from Gotham, who also happens to be Batman. They meet, date, and fall in love, though not without hurdles because mild-mannered Clark is also socially awkward as heck. But when the most dangerous criminals in Gotham are gunning for Batman, Clark gets caught in the middle of it all. (He's basically Batman's Lois Lane) Meant to be set in the Dawn of Justice movie universe, but also draws inspiration from video games, comics, and those awesome Batman cartoons.

This is part of a series, but this is the main fic of it. Love this trope of Clark is just a civilian and Bruce is Batman. Warning this fic does contain disturbing topics so read the tags.

Here Comes the Sun by batsy_rocks

T - 18,815

Clark Kent is a kind-hearted reporter working in the big city. Bruce Wayne is a stressed dad of four with no idea of what he's doing.

Then they meet.

Seasons of Love by littlechinesedoll

G - 4,603

Clark Kent took over that farm at the edge of the Town of Smallville. He likes Smallville's resident doctor, Bruce Wayne.

The best gifts for Bruce are ginger ale, salad, coffee, and any kind of flowers. He hates gems, and bars of copper, silver, and gold.

Petals and Ink by drunkraiinbow

T - 12,976

With a new kid joining the family, Bruce tries a new tattoo artist to continue the tradition of adding them to his sleeve, but he won't trust just any artist. Clark manages to win him over with his incredible talent and his farm-boy friendly demeanor, and he may even have begun to win Bruce's heart. However, Clark might have a few things to learn first.

FLOWER SHOP TATTOO PARLOUR AU! what else is there to say, this is extremely cute and a fast read! :D

Faceless Killer by Batsymomma11

E - 51,519

Detective Bruce Wayne from the GCPD and detective Clark Kent from the MPD have been asked to create a joint task force in an effort to catch the John Doe Killer that has been ravaging their sister-cities. Aside from their long-standing animosity towards one another, it should be a breeze to work together. Besides, lives depend on them getting along.

They never expected they'd trip headlong into a romantic entanglement that feels a lot more serious than even the killer they're chasing.

The Tailor by maderi

E - 16,026

When Clark is assigned to cover the Wayne gala, he finds himself in need of a professionally tailored suit. His tailor though is drop dead gorgeous, which brings up a lot of awkward situations during their appointments.

Heroes of the Squared Circle by Mithen

M - 226,687

They've gone by many names: Billionaire Brucie, Country Clark, the Kryptonian, the Dark Knight. But no matter what their stage names are, one thing has always been true: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are the world's finest wrestlers.

Six's a crowd by Untoward INCOMPLETE/ABANDONED

G - 10,133

When Alfred has to make an emergency trip back to England, Bruce soon finds out he can't manage running a business and taking care of six kids all alone.

He turns to a nanny agency for help, and is astonished when he finds Clark Kent, who seems like he can handle anything.

Clark not only can take care of the kids incredibly well but seems to be breaking Bruce's walls down rather well too.

After Hours by ????

E - 3,175

At the end of a long semester Clark can't hide his attraction to Professor Wayne any longer. Grad School AU.

This is practically a one-shot, not really my type of fic but worth adding!! Haven't come across this professor trope in Superbat so if you got any recs, send them my way!

Wings and Fangs by DanielleN3

E - 17,224

Clark thought he could never fall in love with anyone, especially not after being alone for such a long time… but all of that changes when he encounters a sexy vampire in Gotham.

TECHNICALLY they both have powers in this one but there are soooo different from cannon that I think this fic still qualifies for this list

thirteen by CapnWinghead

T - 22,890

Drowning in student loans, Clark Kent takes a summer job as the Wayne family nanny.

OKAY. so this is not entirely NO POWERS, but I mean Clark is a NANNY so this is great! TRUST ME

Kiss me, take my breath away by J_Jubilee

E - 37,934

There were legends about Gotham Reef. Legends that said it was haunted by a beast of foul temper. Stories told of a ravenous sea beast that feasted on the flesh of men, and was said to be more hideous than Satan himself. Others told of a woman with eyes that glowed like gold to lead sailors to their death. Some even spoke of a witch that cursed men and wreck their ships, taking all their treasures with it. When Clark’s catamaran is wrecked by a terrible storm, he learns that the stories were oh so far from true.

Baby Bats by AlmondRose

G - 4,003

this is a short series of adorable and simple domestic fluff

------

Haven't read this one but heeey the art is sooo pretty soo decided to add it anyways

Dragon Heart by Hells Angel 921

T - 27,660

Kal wants to make up for his past.

Bruce tries to move on with his future.

They eventually meet in the middle.

link to art

I didn't know that Dragon/DragonSlayer was a thing but hey... apparently it is, so here it is.

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

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

hehe and so my rant ends here! let me know if you know fics that fit any of these tropes! I’m all ears

185 notes · View notes

cherrynojutsu · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then. She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 1/?: An Introduction to Electrocardiography

Sakura gazes out the window of her office, a pile of paperwork set aside for a poetic sort of procrastination, trying to indulge for once in a Konoha spring, though she's finding it arduous.

As pretty as it is this time of year, all she can manage to feel is wistful.

Hanami has come and gone already for the most part, though there are a few stubborn cherry blossom trees lingering at the tail end of their blooming. She can see one here from her window, up on the hillside that slopes towards Hokage Rock, clinging to the uneven land. She’s sure its roots have to be all twisted, a labyrinth of gnarled wood clinging to any scrap of land it can wind itself around as its branches and petals try against all odds to reach upwards into the open sky that she can’t take her eyes off of.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but it’s one she doesn’t care to unpack.

This year was her twentieth viewing of her namesake, though Sakura obviously doesn't remember the first few. Her parents take great pride in the retelling of tales from those first few years of her life, the ones she was too little to remember. The highlights come up annually on her birthday without fail, how she grasped at the petals like they were something precious, clutched in her sticky little hands the entire day.

A framed photograph is perched on one of the built-in shelves of her parents' living room, of her and her father on her first birthday. He was holding her up on unsteady legs, ridiculously proud and pointing towards the camera where her mother had been trying to get her to look. Her short pink hair was flying absolutely everywhere, matching the fluttering petals and in-bloom cherry blossom tree in the background, chubby hands grasping upwards. Strawberry cake and frosting were smeared all over her cheeks. They’d had a picnic for her, at the park nearest to their house.

“We came home and cleaned you up, and then your father helped you water your tree for the first time, in the little pink watering pail you unwrapped earlier. You were so cute.” That’s what her mom says every year. Sakura has the sentence memorized at this point, could recite it on cue, if she needed to.

Her parents had planted a cherry blossom sapling in their backyard a few days after they brought her home from the hospital as a newborn, so the tree is around the same age she is. She used to spend time under it often, as a kid, and some of her earliest memories involve sprawling beneath it to study the heavens while her mother gardened. She would also sneak berries from the patch when her back was turned. Sometimes her dad would join in her pilferage, and they would sit beneath the tree like a couple of bandits with stained lips, though those first few years she can remember he barely fit underneath it, as tall as he is. Many a tickle fight had been had, shaded by those branches. She would read books there on nice afternoons, when she was a little older.

The tree is fully grown now, also on the final cusp of its blooming for the year, floriferous wood expanded outwards to drape her childhood stomping grounds in a sea of soft pink. They have a picnic under it every year, in her family’s backyard, when they celebrate her birthday together. Her actual birthday has come and gone, but her birthday dinner is two days from now. Her parents swung by her apartment on Sunday afternoon for a bit with outlandishly large cupcakes, but her mom had mentioned they’d do dinner and a gift on their usual night, Thursday, since it works so well with their schedules every other week.

“We have to have your picnic, under your tree, like always. It’s a tradition! My beautiful girl. I can’t believe you’re twenty. It seems like just yesterday you were only yay high,” her dad had told her, gesturing below his knees before hugging her too tightly, ruffling the hair she'd inherited from him before they left. The cupcakes were strawberry with cream cheese frosting, one of her favorite treats. They’d left her with four extra to enjoy between then and Thursday, one for each day if she wanted it, turning her birthday into more of a week-long affair than a one-day celebration.

She and Ino had demolished two of them while watching some of the terrible movies they love to hate together, later that evening. It had been a smorgasbord of strawberries, really, because they'd washed them down with strawberry daiquiris, sugary sweetness topped with ridiculous amounts of whipped cream. They'd sat on her balcony, after, sipping a little tipsily and just looking.

"You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it," Ino had said, beckoning vaguely towards a Konoha beginning to bloom, renewed with a warm breeze, spring ushered in by a fluttering of pink petals. Ino likes to give compliments in roundabout ways, she’s learned over the course of their friendship; crass as the blonde can be, she does have her moments. Her words meant a lot to Sakura, so she’s trying to take them to heart, to stop and smell the cherry blossoms, so to speak. It won’t be long before Konoha crescendos into the sweltering heat of the summer.

She loves her parents and her friends. She really does.

But birthdays are weird, Sakura thinks.

Last year, Sasuke had sent her a letter on her birthday. She’s reread it so many times that she has it more than memorized; it’s stitched into the muscle tissue of her heart at this point, or maybe scarred into the lining of her aortic valve, sempiternal markings adorning the tunnels that sustain her, causing her breath to catch every time.

Sakura,

Hanami has come to the wilderness in the Land of Honey. Bees are awakening and foraging for the first pollen of the season, with which to begin again. Cherry blossom petals are everywhere, lining the pathways and floating on the water.

Happy birthday.

-Sasuke

It had been short, simple, and even a little poetic; she had cherished it, as she does all of his other letters. She’d cherished the pressed flower with it just as much; a cherry blossom, neatly flattened with a precision that screamed Sasuke, near exactly the same shade of pink as her hair.

Sakura had started crying when she unfolded the paper to reveal it sitting atop his words. His hawk had waited patiently at her office window for a response to be written and tied to its leg, perched atop the windowsill and watching the goings-on of the village below, absolutely no concept in its predator brain of how much she delights in seeing it fly, a graceful tether to the boy - now man - she has been in love with for ages.

Cherry blossom petals are everywhere. Is there a hidden meaning there, or is she making a mountain out of a molehill?

She’s tried not to read too much into the letters. She's not sure if he sends any to Naruto or not; she's too afraid to ask, because she'll either get a heart-pounding hope if he doesn't get them, or a soul-crushing disappointment if he does. She can't imagine him sending a yellow flower to Naruto, but he may very well have sent him a different gift for his birthday.

Maybe he just thought she would like a flower, which she did - it’s pressed for safekeeping, along with all of his other correspondence to her, sporadically and chronologically throughout a book she keeps on her nightstand, An Introduction to Electrocardiography. It is her take on an album of small things she holds close to her own heart, things she wishes she could read in his. Sakura didn’t want to buy an actual album for such a thing; that felt too formal, for something as ambiguous as her ties to Sasuke, overflowing on her end as they may be. So she’d settled on a book about deciphering the heart’s tells based on science only, electrical impulses and repolarization, the sizes and positions of the chambers, how to diagnose conditions utilizing one’s findings. It’s one she doesn’t need access to anymore, extremely familiar with EKGs after years of study. She’d wanted it to be something no-nonsense, all hard facts and data on how to read activity plotted over time.

Evidence-based. Are letters evidence, though? She’s not sure that would hold up as empirical proof in any of the scholarly journals she’s studied or submitted work to since beginning her research. She thinks wryly, though, based on what she has witnessed get published, that scientific verification doesn’t always matter if you know the right people.

She’s thought many times sifting through it that perhaps it is too optimistic, too hopeful of a book subject for such a thing. Sakura has agonized over it, frankly, wondering whether it was an inappropriate choice.

...But now that they’re in there, it might ache worse to move them somewhere else.

It’s the last day of March now, and she didn’t get a letter this month, which is unusual, because she’s gotten one near each month in the time that he’s been away. She’s paged through the book a few times over the past several days, rereading and admiring the preserved sakura blossom, frozen in suspended animation indefinitely on a page about precordial leads.

Sakura hadn’t really expected anything from him for her birthday, other than a monthly letter like he usually sends... but this year she didn’t even get that. She’s trying really hard to not be disappointed. She has so much to be thankful for, in the grand scheme of things...

...But the petals of the cherry blossom from last year have faded over time, she’d evaluated yesterday, sitting in her bedroom. It might be like her, always pressed in a book, fading whilst stuck indefinitely between the boundless teeth of academia. There is always more data to record, more evidence, with which one can prove or disprove their findings.

No letter this month, though. Nothing to record, no new evidence.

It might be time to move the letters somewhere else, she thinks pensively. Maybe a place where she’s not tempted to look at them all the time; their placement in the book, small scraps of paper that stick out in only a couple of places, makes it easy to go back and reread them. She’s pretty sure she has an empty shoebox in her closet that she could move them to, in a pile rather than catalogued between pages rife with information and a fragile sort of hope. Maybe she’ll do it tonight, put it up in the far right corner of the upper shelf, shoved towards the back so she can’t reach it without the stool, so she’s not tempted whenever the next bout of heartsickness slams into her like one of Tsunade-shishou’s fists used to. She needs to go by the library after work first, to return some things, but maybe when she gets home, she’ll do it. She could eat a cupcake, too; that might make it a little easier.

She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet. There’s an extremely unique necklace in an antique shop she visits with Ino and Sai from time to time, and occasionally on her own, over on the northeast side of town. It’s a salt-and-pepper diamond, dark grey with inclusions, dainty and set in what must be a hand-fabricated setting. It hangs from a silver chain, towards the back of a display case filled with other vintage and distinctive pieces, but it’s the only one she ever finds herself drawn to. It is so similar to his right eye, dark smoke near black, speckled with beguiling silver startling in its clarity. The bevel cut reveals new flecks dependent on the angle at which you view it.

Sakura studies it closely on each visit, because it is so hauntingly breathtaking and it reminds her of him.

Ino has said it’s not her color, and that she should stick to warm tones and gold, for which she is better suited; Sakura has not confessed to her why it catches her eye so much. Sai has agreed with his girlfriend on the coloring note, sensitive as he is to such things, but the way he studies her every time she tears herself away from it makes her suspect he knows exactly why it captivates her so. It’s been sitting there for years at this point; she has to mentally talk herself out of buying it on each visit. It’s beautiful, but she would spend far too much time gawking at it, and it might hurt more with extended study than the gentle tugging at her heart she experiences when she’s in that old building throughout tiny fragments of lackadaisical afternoons.

Sasuke has been gone for a long time. She hopes he's finding the peace he's been seeking, that he's seeing the world with new eyes just as he'd imagined. She thinks of him every day, sends out little orisons like petals in the breeze in the hopes that they’ll find him, wherever he is.

I wonder where he is now.

Try as she does to enjoy the breath of spring Konoha is right now, and her namesake as Ino said, all she can seem to do is shift her vision to the sky, hoping against hope for a glimpse of a familiar bird-of-prey that will stay an ample amount of time for her to craft a response, before it abvolates away for another month.

Sakura smiles, then, close to laughing at the absurdity of it all, because she is so predictable. She loves this village despite its many flaws and challenges, despite the things about it she and Naruto and Kakashi-sensei and Ino and even Tsunade-shishou, off in the Land of Wind, are trying to change, but even after so many years, she’s still pining for something beyond it, something in the wilds of the sky just beyond her reach.

There’s always next year, she supposes, pupils drawn again towards the outstretched branches of the cherry blossom tree on the hill, before trailing her eyes along further. She can grow a little more to try to reach him. When she was little, she had wanted to grow tall so she could try to touch a star, like the branches of the tree in her backyard did when she and her father laid beneath them on balmy summer nights. He would tell her ridiculous stories about all of the constellations, things she knew had to be untrue, even at the ripe age of five. Precocious, he’d always called her, but in the loving, joking manner he had.

Her gaze follows the horizon, leisurely taking in the rest of her home. It really is a lovely day, despite her yearning. Spring is here again, and today's is a gentle sunset, one last little bit of sunlight with which to conclude March. The temperature is already spiking, unusually warm for early spring, but summers in the Land of Fire are always hot. She really should finish her paperwork, but it’s hard to find the motivation just yet.

Something possesses her, then, to turn her neck more, take in more of the skyline's continuation. She wants to see all of it.

And then Sakura’s eyes fall on an achingly familiar figure cloaked all in black, perched only a roof away and observing her, and she thinks she must have nodded off, because she has to be dreaming.

She subtly pinches herself in the millisecond of time that follows, but she is very much awake.

The words are blooming out of her throat before she can even process what’s happening, exultation sinking into her every vein. “Sasuke-kun!” She moves to crank her window open the rest of the way, and he hops from the neighboring roof down into her office, all nimble legerity that she still thinks has to be a mere mirage conjured from her memories. When he straightens to his full height, she muses that he has to have grown taller. The mere sound of his footsteps on the tile flooring, as familiar a refrain to her as if he’d just walked out of the village yesterday, are a treasure beyond price.

“Sakura.” His voice is a rich timbre that she has desperately felt the absence of; hearing him say her name almost makes her want to cry. She smiles wider instead, to the extent that it almost hurts, and her gaze latches hungrily onto the very eye she was just daydreaming about. A storm of soot and silver, beveled into countless fragments like some kind of dark, rustic diamond, and so staggeringly beautiful that she’s pretty sure she’s blushing just from beholding it. Gods, it's not fair for someone to be so handsome.

“When did you get back?” She asks, utterly overcome with joy. This is better than a letter or any birthday gift she could have received, brighter than any star she’s beheld.

“Just now.” He’s smiling, a small and subtle upturn of lips that is so characteristic of him. Then his words hit her, and her face must be getting redder.

Just now? As in…

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he adds before she can simmer on that for too long, and she has to blink in bewilderment, because that is the absolute last thing she expected him to say. Sakura wonders how much heat can creep into one’s face before they spontaneously combust.

Then she realizes she should probably respond, as humans tend to do in conversations. “Oh! Um… it’s okay.” She folds her hands in front of her shyly, grinning like an idiot. “Thank you for remembering.”

There is a lengthy moment in which she just soaks him in, hoping he can read in her eyes how much she’s missed him. He is still so beautiful, prized eyes and aristocratic angles that have solidified a bit more into the face of a man in the time that’s passed. His hair is different now, covering his Rinnegan eye. His cloak is a little more threadbare, too. He’s tall.

His expression, normally unreadable, is calm. Content, even.

There’s a question nagging at her that she knows she needs to ask. She tries not to bite her lip as she asks it, braces herself for the possibility of not liking the answer.

“Are you… just back for a little while?”

Did you find what you were searching for?

He gazes at her for so long that she thinks he may be glimpsing her soul, peeking into her ventricles to see his own words immortalized there, seared into her core to be felt each time her blood pumps.

“...For more than a while.” And she smiles the biggest she ever has. Oh, this is so much better than a letter or a gift.

“Well, welcome back, Sasuke-kun. It’s… very good to see you again.” It feels as if a piece of her heart has been returned to her, something of the divine stitched back into her chest and full to bursting in omneity.

There is a pause, and then he’s reaching his hand out towards hers, initiating physical contact with a touch that is feather light, so gentle she thinks she is going to start sobbing.

She can’t help it; she pulls him into a hug, tinged with elation. She hopes he doesn’t mind too much; he stiffens for a brief moment, but then settles, wrapping his arm around her and settling his head atop of hers, and she could die happy right there, embracing him with feelings momentarily set free from where they’ve been whelved into her chest.

He smells faintly like sage and smoked cedar, just as she remembered. She can hear his heart thumping, a strong cadence, and it grounds her. Oh, she’s missed him.

“...I’m home, Sakura.” Soft words float above her head, and she can feel the vibration of them through his chest, right by her ear.

Oh, she’s crying.

Sasuke lets her embrace him for a long time, for which she is so grateful. She knows he’s not one for physical contact; it’s a privilege to be allowed into his space even for a single second, let alone for an extended period.

She draws back eventually, glancing up at him again through the tears still collecting in her eyes. Her face blazes when he reaches to wipe them away tenderly with a calloused hand, careful and with a lenity that she’s always known was there, hidden under the surface.

She could just stare at him for hours, she thinks as he lowers his hand. He’s still looking down at her with one of the softest expressions she has ever seen him wear. She really hopes she’s not dreaming.

It’s tremendously hard to get it together, but she tries, because she doesn’t want to spend the entire time crying, not when he's finally back. There are so many questions she’d like to ask him that she’s finding it a challenge to pick one with which to lead.

He surprises her by speaking first, quietly. “I… had something made for you.”

It takes a moment for the words to compute.

Made for me?

Her processing speed must be exceptionally slow, stuck in the utter mush her insides have become, because he adds, “...For your birthday.”

Sakura blinks, and furrows her brows in confusion. “Made… for me?”

He nods. “...I’m sorry it’s late.” The way he speaks it is cryptic, like the apology weighs more than one needed for a tardy gift. Doesn’t he know she doesn’t care? He could have showed up in July with something for her, and it still would have made her knees weak and her heart thump furiously in her chest.

Made for me? She’s still stuck on that sentiment as he breaks eye contact and turns to rummage through his satchel, beneath his cloak.

Sasuke pulls out a medium-sized flat box, a simple white, and she doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Something that comes in a box is a lot more formal than a pressed cherry blossom, something more… permanent.

She reaches out to take it on autopilot, and is stupidly distracted by the way his hand brushes against hers, a small spark that makes something in her quake. She wonders if he felt it, too.

Sakura clutches the box with both hands like her life depends on it, murmuring softly, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” She’ll wait until later to open it, after he’s left; whatever it is, she doesn’t want to embarrass him, and she also isn’t sure she can tear her eyes away from him just yet, anyways.

Is it just the lighting in her office, or are his ears a little flushed? She didn’t notice that before; maybe he’s had a drawn-out journey back. She wonders how much ground he covered today, if he’s still winded. He might need to rest.

But then he mumbles, voice husky with what she assumes is disuse, “...You should open it.”

His words echo in her head again. I… had something made for you.

“Okay,” she answers in a hushed voice, so she doesn’t scare him away, shifting slightly to set the box on her desk carefully. Suddenly she is very nervous, anticipation settling into her gut.

When she lifts the lid, she swears her heart ceases beating.

The most exquisitely intricate uchiwa fan she has ever laid eyes upon is placed in the box before her.

It’s carved into a likeness of a cherry blossom tree, branches twisting lissomely into bamboo framework, impossibly fine. A different set of words is reverberating in her head now.

You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it.

Made for me?

“O-oh.” Sakura is not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. She fights back the tears, biting her lip and wide eyes soaking it all in, enjoying her namesake in a way that is entirely unprecedented in its sheer severity. The amount of time it would have taken for someone to sculpt and bind and sew is unimaginable; every detail is finely wrought, flawless down to the silk and stitching, lacquered and carved pale wood shifting effortlessly into eighty slivers of bamboo, intricately webbing silk together with the lithe grace of gossamer. It’s a cherry blossom tree, petals and all, pearlescent thread shifting slightly, gorgeously in the light, unimaginable detail. She has stitched people back together countless times over the course of years, but even her expert dexterity would look like a child’s first embroidery stitching in comparison. The stamen within the petals are nearly more detailed and finely milled than an actual, real life cherry blossom, plexure sutured in a fashion so baronial that it’s impossible to believe human hands were even responsible for it.

The silk. Oh, the silk. The color shift bears a striking resemblance to the Uchiha insignia. This is not a gift one gives to a teammate.

Oh, she's crying.

This has to be a dream, some kind of paracosm her heart thought up to give her brain the high of a lifetime. Hope burgeons and unfolds in her chest cavity, bleeding into her extremities like the pale pink shifting into red before her eyes. She’s never, ever going to forget this, not even if she lives to be one hundred years old.

Made for me?

She picks it up with disbelieving hands, grasping it more carefully than she’s ever held anything in her entire life, as if she’s going to wake up at any moment and it will dissolve into synapse, lost in the hazy juncture of morning the way one tends to lose awareness of the contents of a dream upon coming to lucidity. To her absolute bewilderment, it stays solid in her hands, a finery made even more unbelievable by touch. The grooves of the carving are as gentle as his hand had been on hers earlier. She thinks it would have had to be commissioned at least a few months in advance, outlandishly expensive. She’s never seen silk like this. She doesn't know; she's smart, but she's no artisan. Maybe she should ask Sai. She's crying.

She adores it.

Tears won’t stop welling in her eyes; she thinks they may be escaping from a tender spot inside her chest that’s been reserved for him since she was a child, a leak in a metaphorical dam. She takes a steadying breath, blinks, almost has them conquered. Get a grip, Sakura.

Then Sasuke’s hand is on hers, gently turning the handle over.

Her name is carved into the pale wood, on the back in formal calligraphy, Sakura daintier and more perfect than she could ever write it, as if it had just been uncovered in one of the inner layers rather than whittled there manually. Sasuke presses her fingers to it before loosening his grip, and in that second it feels as though his lost hand is in the wood, caressing her from split atoms in the grooves from the other side.

The tears spill over her cheeks - she admits defeat - intricacy of the entire thing blurring out of focus but still somehow burned into her retinas for all eternity.

Made for me, made for me, made for me-

Her voice finds her after a few more tears fall. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, overwhelmed with complete and utter awe, trying desperately to choke down a sob. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I… I’ll treasure it. Always.” She cradles the fan closer to her chest, her heart - maybe An Introduction to Electrocardiography wasn’t a poorly-chosen book, after all; there is much to be read from something this precious - and regards him with watery eyes. She wishes she wasn’t crying; the distortion of the tears is making it hard to see the silver she’s loved and missed so much.

His hand lifts to her face after a moment, and to her surprise, he wipes away her tears again. She barely catches the something-more in his eyes, then, through the waterworks, precious metal flashing and pouring into the words scarred into her ventricles to live there forever, fortified in silver, but he is looking at her so -

“...Always,” he agrees, voice a little breathless, sparking scintilla near hypnotizing her in their luster, and he seems so happy -

Then he leans down to press his lips gently to hers, and this is better than her heart stopping, like when she opened the box. This time, her heart soars, and she touches a star she’s been dreaming of for eons.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like silver #fanfiction #i'm really out here with just hundreds of pages of fanfiction in my google doc drafts huh

32 notes · View notes

howaminotinthestrokesyet · 3 years ago

Text

When It Started: Julian Casablancas

The Strokes lead singer was born on August 23, 1978 in New York City. His father John was the founder and owner of Elite Model Management, while his mother Jeanette worked as a Danish model and former Miss Denmark. At the age of eight, his parents would divorce. His mother would later marry painter Sam Adoquei, who heavily influenced the young Casablancas by introducing him to classic rock artists such as the Doors. Julian has several half brothers and half sisters through his father’s multiple marriages. The future frontman of the Strokes would attend a variety of schools throughout his early life, which led him to meet many of the future members of the band through schools such as Lycée Français de New York, the Institut Le Rosey boarding school in Switzerland, and the Dwight School in New York. At the latter, Julian would start to informally play music with Nick Valensi and Fab Moretti, which ultimately was the beginning of the Strokes. The singer would never finish high school, but did receive his GED in place of it. He would later attend music classes at Five Towns College, which became the very first time that Casablancas actually enjoyed going to school.

Throughout the history of the Strokes, Julian has served as the principal songwriter for the group. Some have said that he would insert a large measure of control over the music, but he and other members have said that does not seem to be the case anymore. Each member of the group brings their own ideas about future songs, then the band decides what to use and what to discard. Nick Valensi would say this about the singer. “His ear is so sharp. He's the one with the ear for detail in this band. Creatively, he is a force to be reckoned with." In 2009, Casablancas released his first solo album entitled Phrazes for the Young through RCA. He would talk about releasing music as a solo artist versus material from the Strokes. “It’s like touring with me or with five of me." The singer would also go on to say that as a solo artist he is able to experiment with his music and lyrics in ways that he would probably avoid in the Strokes. He has always been quite adamant the brand name that is the band should be protected. The title of the album had been inspired by the Oscar Wilde book, Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young, while the album itself embraced a very 1980’s new wave sound that had a heavy emphasis on the use of synthesizers. He talked about this new direction in his music. “I would've gone weirder with the music, but I wanted to be smart. I didn't want people to say, 'Okay, this is his weird abstract thing,' and dismiss the album. I worked too hard on it for that to happen... I wanted to be crazy original and bridge the gap between traditional music and modern music." The LP would be recorded in New York and Omaha, Nebraska with producer Jason Lader and some additional assistance from Mike Mogis of Bright Eyes. A tour would follow the release with a backing band called the Sick Six including Jeff Kite (keyboard), Nelson London (synthesizer), JP Bowersock (guitar), Danielle Haim (percussion) and Alex Carapetis (drums). The first major shows in North America took place over the course of a month at the Downtown Palace Theater in Los Angeles. This venue had been previously used in the Michael Jackson “Thriller” music video.

In 2013, Julian began another side project called Julian Casablancas + the Voidz. Other members of this new band included Jeramy "Beardo" Gritter and Amir Yaghmai on guitar, Jacob "Jake" Bercovici on bass (as well as synthesizer), Alex Carapetis on drums and percussion, and Jeff Kite on keyboard. In 2017, the group wanting more recognition as a band rather than a side project changed its name to simply the Voidz. The goal of the group was to create music that represented a quality of being both very aggressive and quite complex. As lead vocalist and songwriter, Casablancas began to explore musical scales within Middle Eastern music, not any traditional Western scales. Jake Bercovici has said, they are interested in “exploring [music] from the margins.” The singer looked upon the group as a vehicle in which he could create music that embodied characteristics much more experimental than anything that the Strokes ever offered. Their debut album Tyranny was released in September 2014 through Casablancas’s own record label, Cult Records. The album would also feature an 11 minute single entitled “Human Sadness,” which Julian actually wrote originally for a short documentary film about his stepfather, painter Sam Adoquei. Their second album would be released in March 2018 entitled Virtue, which took on a much stronger political point of view emphasizing the paradox between truth and lies.

Over the years, Julian has collaborated on a number of tracks with other artists. In 2006, the Strokes teamed up with Eddie Vedder and Josh Homme for a cover of “Mercy Mercy (The Ecology)” by Marvin Gaye. On the track, Vedder sang backup vocals, while Homme would play drums. In 2008, he recorded a collaboration with Pharrell and Santigold for Converse on a track called “My Drive-thru.” In 2009, the singer lent his vocals to the comedy trio the Lonely Island for a parody song on their debut album Incredibad called “Boom Box.” The Strokes frontman would later record a cover of another Saturday Night Live parody, “I Wish It Was Christmas Today.” He would eventually perform the song live with Jimmy Fallon, Horacio Sanz, and the Roots on Fallon’s talk show. In 2010, Casablancas sang vocals for the track “Little Girl” on the 2010 Sparklehorse and Danger Mouse album Dark Night of the Soul. In 2011, Julian performed the song “Rave On” for the release of a Buddy Holly tribute record. In 2013, he would also provide vocals, lyrics, and guitar to the Daft Punk song instant crush on their 2013 record Random Access Memories. The album would go on the win the Grammy for Album of the Year, which he would receive recognition for his work on it. In 2015, Julian created a cover with Jehnny Beth of the 1983 song Boy/Girl, which would be released through Cult Records. In 2016, he would also provide covers for the soundtrack to the HBO series Vinyl performing three tracks by the Velvet Underground, “Venus in Furs,” “Run Run Run,” and “White Light/White Heat.” That same year, the singer would pen a song for Har Mar Superstar on his album Best Summer Ever entitled “Youth Without Love.”

In 2009, Casablancas started his own music label, Cult Records. The company currently includes a roster of The Growlers, Har Mar Superstar, Songhoy Blues, Rey Pila, Karen O, Promiseland, The Strokes, The Voidz, Exhibition and Cerebral Ballzy. Past artists were Albert Hammond Jr., The Virgins, Reputante, INHEAVEN, Exclamation Pony and Nelson London (C O L O R). The company first began as an imprint in order to release his first solo album Phrazes for the Young. As for his influences, the earliest ones were the Doors and Velvet Underground. He would say this about the latter group. “The way Lou Reed wrote and sang about drugs and sex, about the people around him — it was so matter-of-fact. He could be romantic in the way he portrayed these crazy situations, but he was also intensely real. It was poetry and journalism." Other influences include Bob Marley, Nirvana, and Pearl Jam. He would later say that the song “Yellow Ledbetter” inspired him to start making music. In his personal life, the singer would marry the Strokes assistant manager, Juliet Joslin in 2005. They have two sons together, but divorced in 2019. In the early days of the Strokes, Casablancas struggled with drinking, but he has been completely sober since 2009. Julian would say in an interview about trying to quit drinking, he was “hungover for five years.”

12 notes · View notes

yandereplumsim · 3 years ago

Note

Ophelia Nigmos (all !)

Nonnie is trying to finish what the vaccine started... Aka kill me.

❤️: OTP

Johnny Smith. They're so cute together, I can't break them apart. I once tried to have the JRO three way relationship, but it wasn't really working for me.

💔: No OTP

Ripp. I'm sorry but after that experience I really can't ship Ripp and Ophelia, at least not on my game, I still enjoy it on others, but is a pass for me.

🌈: Sexuality

Straight. I have never found a ship for her with a girl that (or outside Johnny and Ripp) called my attention.

😊: Friends

Beside her friendship turned into love with Johnny, she is good friends with Ripp, she almost sees him as her younger brother.

💀: Enemies or Rival

Pita Florica (The Sims 2 psp) , I brought her to Strangetown just for this. Thru Pita dislikes her more than what Ophelia dislikes her.

She doesn't like Tank.

🌷: Flowers or plants they like

Ophelia loves plants, specially cactus and their flowers because they're colorful and bright and they give her strength. She loves going to Johnny's house because of his green garden. But the one plant that own her heart is her little cow plant that she has started growing recently ❤️

☀️: Favourite Season

Spring time, is not too hot as summer, and is the perfect time to practice gardening.

🌧️: Favourite Weather

Raining. In the desert it doesn't rain as often as she would like, but after the rain the desert blooms in colors.

🕯️: Favourite Aromatic candle

Lavender and Jasmine. As I mentioned earlier, Lavender helps with anxiety and Insomnia, while Jasmine is found to be anticeptic and sedative. All things that Ophelia needs. Beside Jasmine is a night Blooming flower so.. . Fitting.

🥘: Favourite Food:

Ophelia on my game is a vegetarian, which makes sense, as is a healthier diet... And it has an irony with her meat eating Cowplant. Favourite dish might be vegetarian chili with meat or Shawarma.

☕: Favourite Drink

As a get go Green Tea. Chai Latte at the coffee shop... But most importantly, Ophelia makes sure to drink 2 lts of water every day, not from the tap.

🍦: Ice-cream Flavour

Don't ask me why, I just know that is pistaches... Like I can feel it in my bones.

🍕: Pizza Topping

Garlic. She prefers Gaelic bread over pizza actually, but if it's pizza she will add some dried Garlic over it.

🍟: Snack

Cookies. Something that she picked up from living with her Aunt Olive.

🍿: Movies they like to watch

Hollywood Golden age movies... Because they're the only ones that the Strangetown Car Cinema would show.

📺: TV Show they like to watch

Medical series like Gray's anatomy and Doctor House (I need Simlish versions of these) but only the early seasons. The gardening Chanel.

🎵: Music they listen to

90s/2000s Alternative Rock

⚽: Sport they like or play

Walking from the house to school and back is enough exercise for her. She used to swim when she was little, but not anymore.

📚: Books they like to read

The Medical enciclopedy, the vademecum and some Herbal journals that aunt olive owned. She might read some old short sci-fi romantic book if found appealing.

🕹️: Video Games they like or Play

Whatever videogane is working at the Strangetown arcade that week.

🎻: Musical instrument

She knows how to play the organ and was the person in charge of playing the piano during the Strangetown High School events. Ripp has been begging her to form a band ever since.

🎨: Favourite Colour

Lavender, indigo, burgundy & black

👠: Shoes they like

Sandals, convers & docs

👕: Clothing style

As a teen I would say late 90s early 2000s grunge, with ripped baggy jeans, t-shirts, cardigans and slip dresses. As a young adult her fashion is mutating more into the Gothic boho style.

👜: What's always on their bag

Gel Alcohol and desifectant. She carries a little farmacy on her bag. (all Around the sims Cold misery set)

📰: Section of the Newspaper they read

The Gardening section.

💻: Website they visit the most

Google search, looking up possible symptoms. YouTube "top 10 medical conditions" videos or Gardening Tutorials.

📱: Social media they use the most

Instagram, because of Ripp.

📗: Favourite School Subject

Biology and Natural science classes were her favorites during high school.

📕: Less Favourite School Subject

The P. E. class, no Metter how many (fake) doctor recipes she presented, the teacher refused to acnowlage her medical conditions and forced to take part on classes.

🎓: University they attended (or not)

La Fiesta Tech.

🎒: University Major

I'm on the fence between Biology and Paranormal... But definitely leading toward Biology as I want to put her on the Natural Science career later on.

🔮: Something Random

She's witch.

#Ophelia Nigmos #This took some time #!memes

15 notes · View notes

echonecho · 4 years ago

Text

August

AN: ATYD really got the most hits on ao3, y'all. I thought I would honor this milestone, and it just so happened this was a piece of a series I am writing, stories based on random songs I cannot get out of my head. I'll probably add to this fic sometime in the close future, but I am crying so it might be a hot minute.

Summary: Grant Chapman tried to talk to Remus. He really did ... but there were always things left unsaid.

WARNING: one mentions of sex, some swearing

Grant Chapman had never been one for companions. The few friends he had made throughout his rather short life were fleeting. Not that he was a bad friend or a bad person, just in a rough situation. There were few Grant truly cared for, but his heart was never known to falter.

For his ninth birthday, he was given a journal, a journal he never showed anyone. At first, Grant would draw sketches of trees and streams, but later on, he began sketching people. Mostly boys, rarely girls. There was the occasional girl that would ask for a rather terrible drawing, but Grant never minded.

It wasn’t until around age twelve, he began writing letters. Letters were never addressed or given to anyone special. Grant had decided on day one, no was ever going to read those letters. Grant would pretend to write to a boy he fancied at the time or a woman he believed to be his maternal figure. It was rare he would write, and the journal was already beginning to wear down. Only three years old, that thing, and not even a quarter of the way full.

Grant’s first letter of him writing to was this boy Charlie, some brute he was too spooked to learn about. It consisted of Grant's intrinsic confusion of liking boys instead of girls and how if people actually knew of his feelings, he would essentially be shunned from any community he even remotely considered himself apart. He was very normal, thank you very much.

The letter ended up being a mess.

Well, more of a mess than Grant was at that point.

It was fine, Grant was fine.

The letter only took up seven pages. That was normal, he thought.

Months passed before Grant could look at the journal once again. He had only sketched or wrote in that thing a few times since that time he was twelve. When he turned thirteen, Grant wrote in his journal again, this time a letter to his friend. She had just gotten into her first relationship, and that struck something in Grant. It wasn’t that he wanted a partner, but more of a companion. He began writing letters like a mad man for the following week, simple thoughts he would tell his partner if he had one.

The matron got us a slice of pie today. You probably would’ve liked it. Cranberry, it was.

I found a cool rock today, kicked it a bit. Lost it after five minutes.

I think I found the rock today. Tossed it into the near stream.

The following year Grant had his first real wank with another boy and decided to save his journal from that agony. After his meeting with other boys, Grant decided to give his journal a rest. He was growing as a person, and whatever way he was dealing with his feelings as a kid, he didn’t need it anymore.

When he was fifteen or sixteen -- he wasn’t sure, he met Remus Lupin of all people. Grant hesitated to reach for his journal. He didn’t need it. Remus was enough for him that summer, kind enough. Remus and Grant grew close that summer and were rarely spent more than a day apart.

Then Remus went back to his posh boarding school, and Grant didn’t really know what to do with himself. Remus was unable to contact him during the school year, save maybe the one-per-term phone call.

Over the next few years, Remus would smuggle him letters, and Grant would receive the occasional phone call. The idea of his journal stayed in the rear of his mind. Journaling was better than talking feelings to Remus. Grant had the idea of pressing flowers he would find in between the pages, and his letters were never really that long

Grant had never had a way with words, but that wasn’t his fault. The journal was his only critic.

Grant was one to think back on his favorite memories often, and some of them were beginning to include Remus. He would think of how Remus would leave every August, leaving Grant to himself and go be with his rich friends. There was never a judgment on Grant’s behalf towards Remus, but there was a difference between them.

At wherever Remus was during the school year, he had someone else, someone he was beginning to fancy, and Grant would be lying if he wasn’t jealous in the slightest. One of the longest letters Grant wrote read:

Remus,

I’m never one for the posh or these friends, but we’re a memory. Something that I can only dream about. Your talk of this schoolboy is lasting longer than I could ever think we could. A moment of time is all that August is to us two.

What we did last summer was all I can think about at times. Drinking’s become one of my favorite pastimes. I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling, but whatever it is fucking means something to me. I wish you could see that.

Feeling like this isn’t wrong, but when you’re gone, it feels like it. Snogging a schoolboy won’t change my mind, Remus.

Yours,

Grant

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

That was the first letter Grant had ever addressed, mentioning the receiver multiple times. People never really saw him cry, and Grant would be damned if the boys caught him writing now.

Between days of the week and working for a decent life, Remus kept crossing Grant’s mind. He didn’t always turn them away, but he wanted to hear Remus’s voice. As if it were planned, Remus called him throughout his final years of school, spending some of the summers with Grant.

And then Grant met Sirius Black. Sirius Black was Remus’s partner of sorts, the schoolboy. The boy Remus would never, could never get out of his head. Grant had been there when Sirius never was, and Remus chose him.

Grant should’ve known Remus was never his. That night, all that passed his mind was scribbled down in his journal. Yet another letter to Remus, amongst the handful dotting the book’s lines.

Foolish.

Absolutely childlike!

We slipped into something that summer, and I can’t believe you were never mine.

I was faking something. My hopes were lost -- are lost. I don’t know what to say. I was never yours to lose, I suppose. Remus, you swept me off my feet, and I remember driving in that car. You said for me to get in, and off we went.

Now August has passed. I was living for the hope of it all.

Forever yours,

Grant

#grant chapman #remus lupin x grant chapman #august #sirius black #hogwarts #letters #based on a taylor swift song #journaling #harry potter fics

17 notes · View notes

bluecrusadearcade · 4 years ago

Text

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone �� Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

#Harrison osterfield #the gentlemans journal #the irregulars #interview

10 notes · View notes

theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 3)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU.

Here is part 3 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it!

Vol. 1 Vol. 2

Word Count: 2,913 The next morning I woke up just as the sunrise started peeking through the window in our room. I sighed rolling out of bed knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not that I really slept much after last night anyway. The adrenaline and anticipation of what might happen next took over my body despite knowing how tired I really was. Marianne most likely wouldn’t wake up for at least another three hours, so I decided to head down to the beach.

I changed into my bathing suit before pulling on some flowy pants and a shawl just in case it was a bit chilly. I quickly brushed through my hair before grabbing my book and my sunglasses to head out. I left a note for Marianne just in case and closed the door as quietly as I could.

When I made it down to the beach, I noticed how empty and quiet it was. It was soothing and peaceful being able to hear the waves crashing along the shore without the noise of chatter from the either guests on the beach. The sun shined bright as I walked along the shore with my feet in the water.

There were only a handful of people at the beach, a few of them being workers setting up chairs and umbrellas for the guests, and a couple who were walking or running. I held my book against my chest, afraid I might drop it into the water and it would be ruined. I paused briefly to capture the remainder of the rising sun above the water.

After a few minutes, I took a seat down on the sand and opened my book. I hadn’t really read much while I’ve been here, putting some much time in to work on my song for the audition. The audition I wasn’t sure I would even get and if I did I had no idea how I would tell my parents. My father probably wouldn’t approve of it mostly because he would see it as a distraction for what was to come in the fall with me heading off to University.

Or because he would view me as being more like Marianne and not myself. However, both of my parents know how much music means to me, as least in the sense of it being a hobby. But if I did get offered to be in Harry’s band, maybe that would show them that it’s more than just a hobby for me.

The wind started picking up a bit, blowing my hair in my face and the pages of my book around. I was focusing so hard on trying to read through the blowing pages that I didn’t realize someone approaching me until I saw their shadow. I glanced up and quickly saw Harry standing there.

He was shirtless, showing off even more tattoos and yellow running shorts. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, black, sunglasses.

“Um, hi,” I said awkwardly, putting my bookmark in my book.

Instead of answering or telling me why he was here, he sits down next to me. There’s still quite a bit of space between the two of us, but I can still feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Sorry for uh.. approaching you like this,” he said. “I saw you while I was running,” he coughed.

I nodded looking at him completely confused on where he was going with this. I wanted to ask him straight out about last night and why he was currently in my presence, but I couldn’t bring the words to leave my lips.

“Um, yeah, so I thought I’d get this out of the way and let you know, we decided you’re in,” he said.

Wait… what?

“In?” I asked, waiting for him to elaborate.

He sighed, “The band, look, you’re real good, and seem like a cool chick, I guess, but I just don’t know if our music is right for you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “I’m not following you… I’m in, but you don’t think I’m right for your music? What does that even mean?”

“Look, you seem real nice and shit, but the music scene isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. The tag line Sex, drugs, and Rock N’ Roll exists for a reason,” he said.

“Are you trying to say I’m too… too innocent?” I asked with annoyance dripping from my voice.

“I mean… yeah,” he said scratching his head.

“Well last time I fucking checked, you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I snapped. “And even if you were right, who the fuck cares… You said it yourself that I’m good and what your band needs. I know it. Your band knows it. Jasper knows it. And you fucking know it. I don’t get what it is that you don’t like about me, but if this is your way to try and get me to not join your band, then you’ve got another thing coming, Styles. I’m gonna show you just how wrong you are.”

I didn’t even bother to give him a chance to respond before getting up from my spot on the sand and walking away leaving him behind.

Later that day, I was sitting by the pool trying to forget about my encounter with Harry a few hours earlier. I couldn’t believe he spoke to me in such a way. Actually, I can because he’s always been an ass whenever I saw him before, so I don’t know why I thought he would be any different. I guess the biggest issue was because he said even though I was good, I wasn’t a “good fit” for the music.

What the fuck did he even mean by that? I stared at the blank page of my journal and started writing down my thoughts. I had written about half a page when I noticed someone blocking the sun for the second time that day.

“Can I help you?” I sighed looking up at Jasper, who was standing there holding a bright, pink, fruity drink on a tray.

“Yep, he was right,” he said sitting the drink down on the table next to my chair.

“One who was right and about what, two I didn’t order anything,” I told him, looking at him for a drink.

“I saw Harry this morning and he told me about your uh conversation this morning about how he fucked up,” he said. “So, I offered to bring you a drink as a bit of a peace offering.”

“Do you really think a fruity little drink with a paper umbrella is gonna make a difference?” I rolled my eyes.

“No, but it is a conversation starter,” he said sitting down on the chair opposite of mine.

I sighed, taking the glass in my hand, sipping it, “Let me guess, you’re here to do damage control?”

“In a way,” he winced. “Look, Harry can be a major dick, I’m not denying that.”

“So, then it’s not just me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope, he has his moments with everyone,” he said.

“Riight,” I said. “Anyway, let’s get to why you’re really here.”

He sighed, “After hearing about what happened this morning, we’re afraid you’re not going to take the offer.”

“Oh, you mean the offer that I’m good enough for, but not the right “fit” for,” I asked. “And is Harry included in this “we”?

“Yes and no,” he said. “It’s complicated with Harry. He knows you’re what the band needs to set them apart from what’s going on in the local music scene, but his pride is fucking with him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Think about it… how would you feel if you’ve spent years trying to make a name for yourself and not getting anywhere and then someone finally gives you a tip saying it’s cause you're missing something. Which is basically saying you’re not good enough,” he said.

“Oh, um, yeah, I can see why he’s a bit of ass,” I sighed. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“So, what do you say,” he said. “Will you at least give it a shot? A few practices, a gig?”

I sighed, looking down at the drink in my hand, “But what if he’s right? What if I don’t fit…”

Why was I second guessing myself? And why was I so open with talking to Jasper, when he was still technically a complete stranger.

“Hey, he’s not right and even he knows that,” Jasper said. “Just give it a shot and if you don’t feel like you’re a fit, then fine. But let it be your decision.”

I sighed with a nod, “Okay.”

“Groovy,” he smiled. “Here’s the deets on where to meet us. See you tonight.”

I take the slip of paper from his hand, “Thank you.”

He gives a small smile before getting up from the chair and heading back to work. I sighed, pushing hair out of my face and opened up the note.

The Soundbooth. 10pm.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I showed up at The Soundbooth. I brought my guitar just in case it was needed and I got help from Marianne with my outfit. I wasn’t going to change myself to fit in with the band, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change up my clothing style a bit. When I arrived, the building was smaller than I had imagined, but given the name I don’t know what I thought it was going to be a bigger venue.

As I waited in line, I quickly thought it may not have been the best idea for me to come alone, but my only option was to bring Marianne and while we were getting closer, I still wasn’t ready to bring her into my world. Not that this was really my world yet. Once I was finally inside, the place was even smaller than it appeared. People were packed in like sardines. Tables and chairs were practically on top of each other. My grip tightened on my guitar case as I searched around for a sign of either Jasper or Harry. I secretly hoped I could find Jasper first because I wasn’t sure how I would react if Harry saw me and seemed annoyed at my presence.

Surely, he must know I was coming after my conversation with Jasper, but even if he did know I’m sure there was a part of him that wished I hadn’t come. Unfortunately, Harry was the first one I saw, he was standing at a table close to the stage. I sighed debating on walking over there or just finding a spot in the back, but I knew the latter isn't really an option. If I was serious about not only being part of the band, but also proving him wrong, I had to do everything I could.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way over towards Harry and where he was standing. I wasn’t sure what I would say when I got there, but it was too late to turn back now.

“You came,” Harry said, sipping his drink once he noticed.

“Doubt I would?” I asked, sitting my guitar down.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve ever lied to a female,” I mumbled.

Harry sighed running his hands through his hair, “I uh.. Look, I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot or whatever…”

“Bit of an understatement, but yeah,” I interrupted.

He rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to apologize, okay? I’m sorry for what I said this morning, but this… this is my life and if you’re going to be in my band, then I need to know you’re serious about it and this isn’t just some extra curricular type shit for you.”

I sighed, feeling a little guilty about my own behavior towards him, especially after my talk with Jasper earlier that day.

“No, I get it,” I told him. “Music means a lot to me, too. I would never do anything to jeopardize that for myself or anyone. Including you, I wouldn’t have gone to that audition if I wasn’t serious about it. I never would have sat through all those horrendous auditions and then made you listen to me, if this wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

“Good to know,” he said. “So, for tonight, I thought it would be good for you to see what one of our gig’s looks like and what our music sounds like. That way if you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

I nodded,”Cool.”

“You can sit here, but I’ll be going backstage to warm up. We can talk more after the show,” he said.

“Okay,” I nodded, pushing myself up onto the barstool.

Surprisingly, he gave a small smile before walking away. Since I would be there for a bit, I decided to order myself something to drink and something to snack on. About five minutes later, Harry and the band come on stage. I don’t know why I felt nervous, but my palms were starting to sweat and my stomach felt like it was in my throat.

The first song they performed was very upbeat and once again it didn’t take long to notice that Harry was made for being on the stage. Even though the stage was barely a few feet long, he made sure to take up every inch of it. I definitely wasn’t that kind of performer, but if Harry was the front man, I wouldn’t need to be. With each song they played, I started picturing myself up on that stage and trying to figure out where I would be needed.

I was so focused on my own thoughts, I had completely blanked out on the show, until I heard Harry talking to the crowd.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He smiled. “I hope you’re enjoying our songs and having a groovy time. We don’t get to do this, if you don’t come to our shows, so thank you.”

The crowd cheered and hollered with their drinks in the air. I smiled a bit as I looked around.

“Now, we’re gonna do something a bit different tonight for the last song,” he said. “I want to bring a special guest up on stage.”

My head quickly snapped in the direction of the stage, I’m pretty sure I gave myself a bit of whiplash.

“We uh… have a friend in the crowd tonight and I’d like for her to come up here and perform for you all,” he said. “Y/N?”

My mouth drops as my eyes widen at the realization of why I’m really here. He had planned this all along. That sneaky bastard. I can’t believe he would set me up like this and without warning. If I could throw something at him, I would. But this is exactly what he wants. He wants me to freeze up, to run away, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I down the remainder of my drink, jump down from my stool and grab my guitar. I walk up to the stage, feeling my body shake from both nerves and adrenaline. When I made it to the stage, popped open my case to retrieve my guitar, I could tell Harry was a little shocked.

I put my guitar over my shoulder and looked over at him, while Jasper brought out a second microphone.

“So, Harry, since this was your idea, do you have a song in mind?” I asked.

“Ladies, choice,” he smirked. “It’s only fair.”

“I assume you know Landslide?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked back at his band, who all nodded.

“Then let’s go with that, shall we?” I asked.

“Sounds good,” he said.

I looked out at the crowd as everyone’s eyes were staring at the stage. The bright lights of the stage were blinding me, but I could still feel everyone’s gaze on me. I took a deep breath before I started playing the opening chords on my guitar.

The audience got quiet, only a few murmurs, “I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought me down, “I sang softly, nodding my head at Harry to take the next verse.

“Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Hmmmm,” Harry sang next.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changing. Cause I’ve built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I’m getting older too,” we both sang together.

We continued on with the rest of the song, staring at each other as we did. I’m not sure what it was, but singing with him felt so natural, so easy.

I couldn’t help but feel something burning inside of me as we sang the final line together, “Oh, the landslide will bring it down.”

I strummed the end note on my guitar as the audience cheered the loudest they had the entire night. But it didn’t matter how loud they were because all I could hear was the beating of my heart as Harry and I remained where we were, our eyes never losing contact.

Welp, here it is! Finally. Let me know what you think and if you hav anything you want me to include for the next update! :)

#One Direction Imagines #harry styles imagines #Harry Styles Fics #Harry styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry Styles AU Series

33 notes · View notes

emeraldoodles · 5 years ago

Text

Long Grindeldore Fics

Here’s a list of Grindeldore Fics that are longer. I tried to pick only fics over 10k or are going to be over 10k in the future.

Zwischen Immer und Nie (Between Always and Never) by sudowoodo

Words: 38563

Albus smiled and tossed the manuscript back on the table. "It's the rest I don't agree with. I simply cannot get behind that American rule."

Gellert laughed loudly. "You wish to marry a Muggle, Albus? There is something you're not telling me, yes?"

Albus tipped his head sideways, growing weary of his friend always missing the point. "Oh, I don't know. I feel some sympathy with those who are not allowed to love freely." Gellert's gaze became fixed on the floor before his eyes roamed up to take in Albus' face. Albus placed his hands on his stomach and sighed gently. "I can only imagine what it's like not having the freedom to walk hand in hand with my love, or marry them, or kiss them in the street."

There was a long pause. Then, seriously, "What are you talking about, Albus?"

"I think you know."

-A summer of 1899. Has a Victorian feel with themes of homophobia. There’s a cry scene that got to me. I like how Ariana and Alberforth are written.-

Hold on by OUATgirl

Words: 26,631

After their famous duel in 1945, Albus Dumbledore decides to give his old friend another chance. Instead of being held in Nurmengard, Gellert Grindelwald will serve his time under the watchful eyes of the new hero of the wizarding world. But Albus cannot plan everything, and things might be more difficult than he anticipated

-I like how Dumbledore was written. Very cute and slow. Writer is currently working on a sequel-

same apartment, roommate's gone by Anonymous

Words: 10,176

After nearly five decades of imprisonment, Gellert Grindelwald was ready to break free.

-Very funny, but it is serious too. Gellert takes over the mind of Lockhart because there ain’t nothing there.-

Defence Professor Wohl by DarthKrande, NeverBeyondRedemption

Words: 54,421

Gilderoy Lockhart landed himself in St Mungo's after his 'Cornish Pixies' class. Where can a headmaster now find another Defence teacher, one who's knowledgeable beyond doubt, willing to face the curse on the position, and available to start in a few days? In Nurmengard, that's where.

-I really like the beginning of this fic, the ending dragged after chapter 18, but that’s probably because the later chapters focus on Harry.-

rummaging for answers in the pages by kittysorceress

Words: 37,620

It is the summer of 1899 and Albus Dumbledore is ready to venture into the great wizarding unknown. Instead, he finds himself at a dead end, keeping house for his siblings in Godric's Hollow. Bored. Lonely. Wasted.

That is, until he meets his equal.

-A collection of Albus's journal entries from the summer of 1899, detailing his adventures and the innermost workings of his mind, from the mundane to the sublime.-

So Many Chances Unseen by The_Marron

Words : 32,043

Dumbledore wants to die, Severus Snape doesn't want him to, and there is also an ex-Dark Lord trying to get his ex back. Maybe.

-This is broken up into 5 parts that total the word count. Is completed. Albus is an ass and I loved it! Slow burn with old men. Loved the ending! Wish this is how the books ended.-

Thirty-Five Owls by Letterblade

Words:11,284

Being a correspondence between Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, etc., and the prisoner Gellert Grindelwald, of some decades in length.

-Gellert and Ablus are penpals? Kinda. It’s sweet, it’s angry and it’s sad. It’s Grindeldore in a nutshell.-

Extreme Incantations by meanwhiletimely

Words: 10,043

Gellert makes a discovery in Albus's bookshelves that results in a revelation.

-Very much smut, but with a plot… no maybe just a point? Dark magic sex during 1899. Bottom Gellert.-

My hands in yours by FrozenBrownie

Words: 21,452

A student of Hogwarts, died in Albus Dumbledore’s arms. What impact this unnecessary death of a child (again) would have on him, on England, on Hogwarts, neither the watching centaurs nor that desperate wizard with his wrists in unconnected metal chains could have foreseen. There was a man, of course, who did, roused in his sleep from the agitation of his husband over a thousand miles away. And thus, a story different from the one that could have come to pass began.

-Albus is shackled and leaves his life to find Gellert.I’m a sucker for fics about magic restriction shackles. Several parts.-

Happily Ever After, Being an Account of a Victorian Fairy Tale in Five Parts by azurish

Words: 10,281

When you’re hunting down the stuff of fairy tales, you shouldn’t be surprised when your own life turns into a fairy tale. In a universe in which Ariana wasn’t killed, Albus and Gellert attempt to track down the Hallows. Gellert knows that Albus is in love with him, and it’s convenient to indulge him – but that’s all there is to it. Right?

-Albus and Gellert go on their journey for the Hallows and have been traveling for a while together. Gellet is a piece of shit and Albus is dumb (stop just putting on unknown jewelry!)-

His Majesty's dragon by FrozenBrownie

Words: 18,369

Used in Open Combat – Dragon Corps in short. Albus’ magical power, ability and control apparently were up to the required standard to be considered for the training program for Aviators. Of course he had had no intention to go into the military whatsoever, but then, Gellert Grindelwald had stumbled into his life. Oh, how they had loved one another, fiercely, fiery, distructive -

-Dragon riders and set in 1759. Is a series. Writer working on 2nd part.-

Let Perpetual Light by tehtarik

Words: 65,726

In the village of Godric's Hollow, the Dumbledore family is falling apart. Kendra Dumbledore is dead under mysterious circumstances, and Albus is the unwilling guardian to his wayward brother Aberforth, and Ariana, their mad sister in the attic. But everything changes with the arrival of Gellert Grindelwald, violently charming juvenile delinquent with an obsession for the fabled Deathly Hallows.

-Ariana is a main character. Summer of 1899.-

Nurmengard by red_camellia

Words: 12,002

After Grindelwald's defeat in 1945 he is put in Nurmengard, unable to move on and haunted by memories of their past Dumbledore begins visiting Grindelwald. "But whenever Dumbledore was there, it was like looking into the Mirror. They both looked at each other and yet, did not see each other."

-A melancholy fic. Albus keeps visiting Nurmengard years after the battle of 1945.-

Shadows Die Twice by Phytine (Taouret)

Words: 68,922

Albus Dumbledore, after having been expelled from Hogwarts, has no choice but to go to Durmstrang in order to finish his education. There, he meets a very charming boy, Gellert Grindelwald and, despite the warnings, decides to befriend him.

What Albus doesn’t know is that Durmstrang is the Devil’s territory. Before he can understand what is happening, he gets caught in a dangerous web. The unconscious prey has fallen.

But there is one thing that Grindelwald hasn’t taken into account: Dumbledore is no man to be taken down easily and, the monster is never far away in a wounded heart.

-Do you want a really fuck up Albus and just as equally fucked up Gellert? This is your fic. Warning, includes rape, abusive relationship, blood fetish, chocking. Not completed.-

Phoenix Tears by PrincessElectra

Words: 46,739

The summer of 1899 ends with less destruction and heartbreak, but love is not a victory march and the darkness is still a seductive temptress. Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. I refuse to accept that there is any future where the world is better place with us apart.”

-Gellert decides to stay with Albus but he can’t quite give up on his old goals Lots of fluff.-

liminality by verivala

Words: 7,981

Instead of killing Albus, Gellert imprisons him. Neither of them have a good time.

Grindelwald Wins AU

-Still being written. Gellert is trying to cage Albus and Albus is trying to escape, if only mentally. It does have darker themes like mind control, magic restrict, twisted love.-

The Trial of Albus Dumbledore by Aurora_xx

Words: 51,613

Albus Dumbledore has to attend a disciplinary hearing for withholding invaluable information about Gellert Grindelwald, deliberate misdirection and performing a blood pact with the person who currently represents the biggest threat to the wizard community.

Unknowingly, he takes Veritaserum before.

-Albus is held trial and forced to speak the whole truth.-

The Glass House by Skurf, TheMoonGuardian (moonchampion)

Words: 24,327

Brightest student of Hogwarts's 1899 graduating class, Albus Dumbledore was about to set off to travel the world. He was going to revolutionize the Wizarding World. Then Ariana Dumbledore killed her mother in a fit of uncontrollable magic, and he was sent back home to be her caretaker.

He was 18, resentful, and utterly miserable. Until Bathilda Bagshot introduced him to her alluring nephew, Gellert Grindelwald.

(The one where Ariana doesn't die, and the boys take her along on their quest to find the Elder Wand.)

-I almost feel bad putting this on the list, because it looks to forever be incomplete. But the bantering between Albus and Gellert is just too enjoyable not to include.-

Never Too Careful by DrSalazar2U

Words: 29,694

"So that, when my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then, of course,

he came..."

Gellert presents a life changing opportunity, but Albus quickly learns that when it comes to eternal glory, one can never be too careful.

-Lot of smut, but there is still a plot. But lots of summer sex. I like how Ariana and Abeforth are written.-

#grindeldore #Albus Dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #ggad #Harry Potter #fantastic beasts #Gelbus #Dumblewald #fanfic #rec list

406 notes · View notes

witcherdoaks · 4 years ago

Text

Spring Day: Ghost

Word Count: 2,080

Warnings: None, just a short intermittent chapter

Previous post in the series: A Brief Reunion

Masterlist: Spring Day

Ciri located Geralt and Yennefer along the path when word reached her of the bard’s passing. The young woman refused to leave Geralt’s side for which Yennefer was thankful. To Ciri, Jaskier had been an odd comfort, a tie to her royal life with all his fussiness and knowledge of high society manners, but more than that, he was a reminder to fuck all and live life. She was no stranger to death, so his death meant she’d have one more name to carry with her until her own demise. Now it was her turn to look out for Geralt as best as she could without making the witcher feel claustrophobic.

For his part, Geralt pulled off a convincing act if one wasn’t paying attention. More than once his shoulders would tense, and he would quickly excuse himself whenever a different bard attempted renditions of Jaskier’s songs at taverns. Then there were the people who knew the bard would travel with him in spring and summer telling him it was such a shame the talented young man had passed. Ciri noted all of this and the manner with which the Witcher avoided towns and people even more, so she was relieved when they made it to Kaer Morhen that winter, especially after that trip to Oxenfurt.

The famed academy had received news of the bard’s passing in mid spring. They sent word for Geralt to head to the campus by the beginning of summer, so the pair reached Oxenfurt some weeks after that. Geralt looked positively green as he was led through the halls to Jaskier’s living quarters. Ciri had offered to deal with the officials and everything else about the visit, but the white wolf turned her down. He had to do this himself, he said.

“Professor Pankratz left you his possessions in the event of his passing, lord knows why,” the stick thin old man said in a tone that revealed he knew the why and very much disapproved of it.

Geralt only nodded stiffly while Ciri glared daggers at the man. Eventually they reached their destination, and the old man told them that any items left behind would be repurposed for the university or would be discarded. They had only four days to go through everything. For the size of the office and living quarters, it was a lot. Books were piled high on every corner of the rooms, most of which Geralt knew he would never need but had to convince himself not to take as they would serve the university well. There was also no possible way Roach and Ciri’s stallion would be able to take everything. The young woman recommended rifling through the tomes regardless; it had been her grandmother's habit to place papers or other in between pages of books. Maybe Jaskier was the same.

Several books later, they had many dried flowers in between sheets of paper and cotton. Eventually Geralt found a rather large book where the dried flowers were probably destined for. As Geralt turned the pages, he realized there were herbs and other dried medicinal plants placed carefully in pockets on each side of a page. Annotations and captions filled the pages next to the specimens, detailed descriptions of their properties and the occasional wayward comment. The bard must have spent a great deal of time developing the book.

“We should take that one,” Ciri said, looking at the contents from over his shoulder. Maybe it would prove useful in the future.

The Witcher agreed and set the book aside. As he glanced around the room, there were still piles of unsearched tomes everywhere and a disarray of parchments strewn all over Jaskier’s desk. Geralt sighed, tired of looking through tomes in a place that was saturated with Jaskier’s scent. Even with his Witcher senses, he would get accustomed to the smell, chamomile and apple blossom faded into the background, bringing with it unacknowledged comfort. Only for him to notice the scent again and be reminded that the bard was gone. It made Geralt’s throat constrict in that familiar way, yet his eyes were no longer able to express his sorrow.

“Why don’t you take a break, Geralt?” Ciri asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He glanced at her, and she squeezed his shoulder, giving him a slight nod. Geralt knew he wouldn’t be away for long; he couldn’t let Ciri do all the work, but stepping out of those quarters was quite literally a breath of fresh air.

Every step took him farther away from the bard’s living quarters, making it easier to breathe and settle his thoughts. There were very few students roaming the passageways. Those that were gave secretive glances in his direction when they thought he wasn’t looking, for which Geralt was grateful.

He hadn’t been paying much attention where he was going and found himself walking along one of the bridges connecting the two islands eventually. There he stopped, leaning on the stone parapet. The view before him was idyllic, blue hued mountain ranges were peaking above the forest line. His sharp eyes could make out the crystalline snow caps at the apex before they shifted back to the river‘s water, impossibly opaque but not in a murky, muddy way. The Witcher wondered if Jaskier had ever stood here, overlooking the same scene. Would he come here to clear his head, to get away from the students who surely filled the halls in the winter? What would occupy the bard’s mind when he stood here?

“Witcher!”

Geralt turned in the direction of which his title was called. A woman dressed in orange and green was walking down the bridge toward him. The feather in her red-orange beret was fanning out every so often.

“I heard you were here,” she cheerfully explained her approach. “It’s nice to meet you in the flesh instead of in a ballad.”

Her cheerful demeanor slipped from her face as he continued to stare at her, wondering why she had approached him at all. None of the other students had done it. Still she continued past the mounting silence.

“If you require assistance sorting things out, I’d be happy to extend my stay.” The woman looked almost hopeful as if she wanted him to ask her the favor, “I was passing through to retrieve any parcels Dandelion may have left me.”

Her voice went soft at the end, and she looked wary now.

“Dandelion?” Geralt asked, tilting his head.

“That was what we called him here at the Academy,” she cleared her throat and looked away, “Jaskier, I mean.”

Ah, here it was. Another facet of Jaskier’s life that Geralt didn’t know. A trivial detail of the bard’s life, which Geralt would have never known had he not met this stranger. THis knowledge left an acrid taste in his mouth. He’d never again be able to discover tidbits of Jaskier from the source itself. All new knowledge of Jaskier would be received from those that knew him.

Geralt must have been glaring when the woman glanced at him because she took a step away.

“Yes, well, I must be going,” she hurriedly excused herself, “my offer stands, Witcher.”

A pool of guilt seeped into Geralt’s core, making him grimace. She hadn’t been at fault, and she was only being kind by offering to help. Yet he scared her off. He sighed and started walking back to the living quarters. In the distance, a flash of red orange made a turn into one of the buildings, but he kept walking. It was too late to do anything now, he convinced himself and continued walking.

When he got back to Ciri, the young woman had made considerable progress with the books and even had some of the students cart off the items they had already inspected. The two of them continued their perusal of the quarters. That which they didn’t need or felt immediately attached to was donated to the academy. Geralt was left with a sparsely used journal, the tome and other nicknacks of the bard’s while Ciri took with her a small ornate table mirror and a scarf she had gifted the bard some years prior.

It was late evening on their last night at the Academy that Geralt saw the woman again, looking to deliver a package to him. He took the package in hand and accepted the words of comfort that left her mouth, wondering how much of Jaskier she knew, before closing the door on her.

At night when the candle allotted to him had burned a quarter of the way down, Geralt sat with the bundle in front of him on the table. Ciri had gone to sleep some time ago. It was just him and his thoughts now. The bundle beckoned him, and he reached out to hold it in his hands. It barely weighed anything. The scents coming off it were smoke from a hearth, ink and that woman. It had been with her person for a couple of days at least, so that made sense.

Gently he untied the strings holding the parcel together. As the fabric fell open, the smell of dried ink intensified, yet it now mingled with chamomile and apple blossoms. At the very top of everything was a folded piece of parchment. With one hand Geralt unfolded it and his eyes landed on the topmost line in the bard’s script.

My dear Priscilla

And that’s all he read. The parchment malformed and wrinkled with the force he used to fold it. The bundle now felt like lead in his hands, but he knew he couldn’t be rid of it. It was still a piece of Jaskier after all, so he rewrapped it and tied the string as securely as he could before shoving the entire thing into his satchel.

Geralt blew out the candle and went to sleep.

Even weeks later, Jaskier’s scent lingered on his belongings.

Of course it did, Geralt had carefully wrapped them in cotton sheets to stow away in his travel bag. He had transferred them to a chest as soon as they reached Kaer Morhen. The bundle the woman gave him lay on the table of his room again. It remained there for a better part of the winter, purposely forgotten in favor of training and renovation of the castle. By now the scent of her was nearly gone, overwritten by the Witcher keep.

It was at this time, months after the incident, that Geralt took the parcel in his hands and unwrapped it with utmost care. Letting the chamomile and apple blossom soothe over his nerves and pounding hear. He smoothed out the wrinkled parchment and opened it to read.

My dear Priscilla,

Fate must have smitted me if you are reading this letter. I would hope I’d have died without regrets, but I rather doubt that is the case — at least where our infamous white wolf is concerned in the time I write this letter.

I could shower you with praises for your natural beauty and talent. Except I fear that would be a waste of time as you already know how even the proudest of songbirds stop to hear you sing.

Instead I will call upon your vast intellect and sensitivity to make the choice you feel is best, both for him and for my legacy. I leave to you some of my most private compositions. Many of these have not been finished or if they have, are not composed to my quality of my liking. I know you value an artist's integrity and would never betray this trust which I have in you. Unlike that pompous idiot Valdo Marx, seriously beware of him and kick him on his miniscule family jewels the next time you see him in my honor.

Back on topic, I’ll leave it up to you whether you wish to keep these writings or hand them off to Geralt of Rivia, who for the last couple of decades has occupied my heart and mind and is the subject of many of the present compositions.

Please don’t punch him. He has apologized as I’ve told you countless times, and you would only be breaking a hand or wrist if you carry out vengeance in my name. I do not wish for him to hurt more than he is. He hides it well, Priscilla.

Thank you, dear Callonetta.

Sincerely yours,

Dandelion

#Reincarnation AU #netflix the witcher #this took longer than expected #way too long for the amount of words i have imo #hope you enjoyed #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x dandelion #dandelion #Jaskier #Cirilla of Cintra #ciri is a caring daughter

12 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

Is your nose stuffed up at the moment? Nope.

Do you like apples? Not especially. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I had one.

Do you ever read the newspaper? No. I read my news online for the most part and catch some on TV.

Is anyone in your house sick? No.

Someday do you ever want to go and see the Egyptian pyramids? Damn, it’s almost a 16 hour flight to Egypt from California.

Have you ever seen the Statue of Liberty? No. I’ve never even been to New York.

When’s the last time you got your hair cut? Back in February.

When’s the last time you rode a bike? Never.

Spring or summer? Spring out of the two, but meh. It means summer is next and that I don’t like.

Do you like to go sledding in the winter? I’ve never done it.

Do any of your friends’ boyfriend/girlfriends annoy you? I don’t have friends.

What time is it? 5:24AM.

Will you be calling someone tomorrow? No.

Have you smiled today? Yeah.

Do you wish you could start over with anyone? Sometimes.

Do you like Kid Cudi? I liked Day ‘n’ Nite. Whatever happened to him?

Or, who is your favorite rapper? Some that I listen to are Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi B, Nicki Minaj, Drake, Post Malone, Travis Scott, DaBaby, Roddy Ricch, Bryson Tiller, Tory Lanez...

Have you ever created a survey? Once, a longggg time ago. Like, during the Xanga days sometime.

Where were you today? I’m at home and that’s where I’ll stay.

When was the last time you had to give bad news? I’m usually the one receiving the bad news.

Were you sad today? Sad is one of my personality traits.

Do you take any foreign language classes? I’m not in school anymore, but I did in high school and one semester in college.

When’s the last time you received bad news? My doctor wanting me to do ridiculous xrays that aren’t necessary and then throwing in the possibility of doing a spinal cord stimulator and I’m like yeah, absolutely not.

Are your parents together or divorced? They’re still together.

Is there one person you look at and automatically smile? My doggo.

Who are you texting? No one.

What are you doing later on? My Bible study.

Do you wish anyone in particular was still in your life? Yeah, a few people.

Who was the last person you were on the phone with? My mom.

What makes you happy? My doggo, trips to the beach, Disneyland, binging a show with my mom, that first sip of coffee, when it rains, fall, the holidays.

Ever liked someone older than you? Only by a couple years.

Which did you discover first, myspace or Facebook? Myspace. I’m old.

Have you kissed a: A, B, C, D, E, G, K, U, Q, V, T ? D and G.

What was the last thing you ate and why? Ramen. I like having my nightly bowl of ramen, it’s my thing.

What was the last thing you drank and why? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink cause I like ‘em.

How many tabs do you have open and what are they? 10: 2 are Tumblr related (1 is my dash and the other is my likes), YouTube, Pinterest, 2 LiveJournal survey blogs, Facebook, a Christian radio website page relating to something my church is doing, a website with different prayers and scriptures related to them, and Spotify.

What browser do you prefer to use? I only use Chrome.

What’re five random things on your desk besides any computer-related items? I don’t have a desk.

What room are you in right now? Mine.

What color are the walls and floor in that room? White walls, tan carpet.

What’re the items closest to you that’re red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, white, gray, brown, black, silver and gold? Red: Red and black plaid throw pillow. Orange: Orange highlighter. Yellow: Yellow highlighter. Green: Baby Yoda plushie. Blue: Mist fan. Purple: There’s some purple on one of my pillows. Pink: Bottle of Pepto Bismol. White: There’s white on my Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink can. Grey: My remote. Brown: My Baby Yoda plushie is wearing brown. Black: Laptop keyboard. Silver: My laptop. Gold: A gold garland strand across my dresser from last Christmas. :X

Out of all the things you listed above, which is your favorite? Baby Yoda plushie!

What kind of chair are you sitting in? I’m sitting on my bed.

Where would you prefer to be right now? I want to be right here.

Do you have any plans this weekend? No.

Are you excited for anything this month? This month is just about over, so I’m hoping it starts to cool down soon.

What’s the date today? It’s September 28th.

Is there anything special about today? No.

How’re you physically feeling right now? Tired and my stomach is messing with me.

How’re you emotionally feeling right now? Blah.

Have you ever traveled outside of your home country? I’ve been to Mexico once.

Can you speak, read and/or write in another language besides English? Some Spanish.

What language course did you take in school, if any? Four years of Spanish in high school and one semester in college.

What language would you most like to learn? I’d like to be fluent in Spanish.

What grade are you in right now? I’m done with school.

What would you like to get a degree in? I have my BA in psych.

What was you dream job when you were a little kid? I wanted to be a teacher.

What happened to that dream? I decided it wasn’t what I wanted to do anymore when I got older. I didn’t feel cut out to teach.

Speaking of dreams, when was the last time you had a sleeping dream and what was it about? I always have the most random, weirdest dreams.

Do you have more nightmares or good dreams? Mostly just random and weird.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? I’m always up all night, so no.

Can you sleep comfortably in another bed besides your own? I can sleep fine in hotel beds. Those are the only other beds I sleep in.

What book are you reading, what genre is it and do you like it so far? “Say You Love Me” by Willow Rose. It’s a murder-mystery and thriller. It’s the 4th book in a series and I’ve really enjoyed them all so far. They’ve all had a really crazy twist I didn’t see coming.

Are you a shorts wearing kind of person? Nope. I never wear shorts.

Is your grandparents’ house obsessively tidy? Yeah.

About how much can you bench press? I can’t at all.

Do you get embarrassed easily? Yes.

Is dinner done yet? It’s 7 in the morning.

Have you ever had your phone die on you in the middle of a conversation? I’m sure it’s happened before.

Is anybody in your family a carpenter? No.

Are you avoiding someone? You could say that.

How social are you? I don’t have a social life at all anymore.

What’s your favorite primary color? Yellow.

What were you for Halloween? I stopped dressing up a few years ago.

Do you like hot chocolate? Yeah.

What do you have pierced? Just my earlobes.

What’s your favorite type of tea? Mint or chamomile.

Do you have any clothes from Walmart? I have a couple shirts.

Are you hungry? Kind of, but my stomach is feeling a little meh.

When did you get a Facebook? Back in 2008.

What color are your eyes? Brown.

How’re you feeling? Tired and blah.

What motivates you? I haven’t felt motivated in a long time...

Can you walk in heels? No.

When was the last time someone asked you your age? I get asked often in surveys.

Why are you taking this survey? I want to.

Do you ever sing in the shower? Yeah.

Do you keep a journal? This is my journal. I share a lot in these surveys.

When is your favorite time of day? When I have my first cup of coffee and the late and early hours when I do my usual routine of surveys and ASMR videos.

How often do you get headaches? Often.

Have you ever tried a weird flavor of vodka? I had caramel vodka before. I don’t think that’s weird, though.

Do you wear a ring on your finger? Nope.

What are you doing? Besides the obvious, I’m listening to an ASMR video.

What’s the last kind of soup you ate? Ramen.

Do you currently have a sunburn? No. I wasn’t able to have my beach trips this year, which is the only time I spend a significant amount of time outdoors. I’ve hardly been out of the house at all since March.

Could you eat nothing but grilled cheese for a week straight? No.

Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? Nah.

Who did you last text? My mom.

Who’d you last call? About what? My mom to ask her something.

Are you currently frustrated with someone? No one but myself.

Have you graduated from high school? Yeah, back in 2008...

Did you receive a good morning text today? I don’t receive those.

Will you be having sex tonight? No.

Do you drink hard liquor? No, I don’t drink anymore.

Have you met anyone new yet today? No. I highly doubt I will.

Do you drink water or soda more often? Water.

Do you straighten your hair? No.

When did you last talk to your brother or sister? Last night.

If you have younger siblings, how old were you when your siblings were born? I was 9 when my brother was born.

Do you watch the Big Bang Theory? No, I never could get into it.

Would you ever pick up gum from the ground and eat it? What in the actual.... NO. Ew, who the hell would do that???

Have you ever gotten stitches? Yeah, several times.

Do you pluck your eyebrows? Yeah.

Think back to the last thing you drank. Did you drink it using a straw? Yeah, I always use a straw.

Do you ever listen to country music? Sometimes.

This time last year were you happier then or now? Neither then or now.

Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No.

From inside of your house, how many doors lead outside? Two.

Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No.

What’s your favorite music video at the moment? I don’t watch music videos anymore. I miss the TRL days, I always looked forward to the top countdown and new video releases.

Can you play the violin? No. I took violin in 4th grade, but I just didn’t enjoy it. Me and the violin didn’t vibe like the piano and I did. I stuck it out for the year and then I was done.

Is the sun shining? Yeah.

Where did you go today? Nowhere.

Have you ever taken a survey while under the influence of drugs or alcohol? Yeah.

Where will you be in an hour? Right here in bed.

Is anyone irritating you? No.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? I haven’t gone to bed, yet.

The last time you burned your tongue or mouth, what were you eating? Probably ramen.

Have your parents ever threatened to throw your things away because your room was messy? No.

Is there any one food you constantly find yourself craving? Boneless wings from Wingstop.

What’s the longest time you’ve ever spent in front of the computer doing surveys? Well, my nightly routine consists of doing surveys. It’s usually between the hours of like 3AM to 7AM. Some of that time is also spent scrolling through my dash, but for the most part it’s doing surveys.

Name someone with big eyes. *shrug*

Do you like the humidity? Nooo.

Who will you hang out with next? My family.

Is your shirt pink? No.

What’s something fuzzy near you? Giraffe stuffed animal.

Are you going to do more surveys? Maybe. I should be going to bed, though...

Who is the most complicated person in your life right now? Me.

Are there a lot of trees in your yard? No, just one.

Did the last type of shoes you wore have laces? Yeah.

How much money do you have on you right now? Some.

Are you CPR certified? No.

What genre is your favorite movie? I have several favorite movies that fall under the horror, psychological thriller, drama, romantic comedy, comedy, fantasy, and sci-fi genres.

Are you texting anybody right now? No.

Who was the last person you were in a car with? My mom.

Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? No.

What’s your favorite thing to snack on while watching a movie? If I go to the theater then I gotta have popcorn.

When was the last time somebody hit on you? It’s been years.

Was the last person you met a male or female? Female.

Which one of your friends do you feel most comfortable around?

Do you own a map of the world? No.

What brand is your underwear? They’re from JCP.

What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? Mashed potatoes and gravy and the stuffing.

Is the light on in the room you’re in? Nope.

Who did you last spoon with? I haven’t spooned with anyone.

Are you currently watching TV? It’s on, but I’m not watching it at the moment cause I’m watching/listening to an ASMR video.

Have you ever had surgery ? I’ve had several.

Do you own any clothing that has animal print? No.

Does your family eat dinner together? Sometimes.

Where do you work? I don’t.

Are you in high school? No. I’ve been out of high school for well over a decade now.

Do you have a TV in your room? Yep.

Are any of your electronics charging right now? My phone, laptop, and Nintendo Switch.

What was the last video game you played? Animal Crossings: New Horizons.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

2 notes · View notes

p---leia · 4 years ago

Conversation

Ancient Writer of dreams and nightmares: I am 71 (-one month), and have been writing (making up tales) since I was three. I can still remember my Pawpaw whittling a pencil for me, and Mawmaw tearing a piece of brown grocery bag for me to write on. They weren't 'poor', but writing paper wasn't to be wasted on a 'kid' just for fun. I carefully scripted my first short story.

Of course my 'letters' looked more like ancient Hanguel, so I had to read it to my "captured" audience. I really don't remember the story, but as my grandparents had a yard full of chickens and my dog, Mutt, liked to chase them (because of this we 'both' got into trouble -- because I always joined the chase) I most probably wrote about that.

My Pawpaw was a story-teller. For several years I thought there really was a baby found in the wilds of the African jungle and raised by the great apes. I thought he was the luckiest babe, EVER!

Then I found Pawpaw's books about three years after he died. I was eleven when he died, and felt that my best friend had abandoned me. But when I found those books I realized just where Tarzan actually came from and went to. I read everyone of those books and got the complete picture. THEN..

Well, Pawpaw also told stories of Daniel Boone and Davey Crocket...before I saw them on Disney. Then, of course, I went to school and learned what I already knew. Pawpaw was an excellent story-teller and never mixed up his facts, time-lines, or characters.

Growing up under his influence had a lot to do with how I developed as a story-teller. At family gatherings when I meet cousins I haven't seen in decades, they STILL remember me and the stories that I used to tell them. My children and grandchildren have grown up with me re-telling Pawpaw's old stories, and sharing many that I made up on the spot.

But I think what I read in my early years developed my writing style.

I was just turned eight when I read my first Shakespeare, MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. He was my first favorite author. Then I was forced to read Romeo and Juliet. I was disgusted by the fact that TRAGEDY was made famous as a ROMANCE! Even at the innocent (then) age of fourteen, I was disgusted with the idea that it was considered romantic for 'anyone', let alone 'teenagers' to commit suicide over unrequited love.

My sister (now 68) and I recently discussed this play. Because she had a 'forbidden' teenage love, she said that she related to the story (even though she had never read it). GASP! It was required reading in ninth grade!

I remember our dad breaking up my sister and her boyfriend, who was really cool. He was a hard working farm boy who had saved his money to buy a motorcycle. AND his own car. But he wasn't good enough for my sister. smh

I always thought her story would make a great LifeTime movie. But I'm not touching it. She would 'skin me' for sharing with the world her broken heart. And if I added the stuff that sells today, she'd scalp me for lying. Not a win situation at all. So, I will write notes in my "Random Jottings Journal" for future decendants who might grow into writers or story-tellers.

By the way, the title "RANDOM JOTTINGS" came from a sci-fi book that I read as a kid in the fifties. I don't remember the author, although I'm pretty sure it 'might' be from a Heinlein juvenile book. But I've never found a reference to any sci-fi books using that term. SO!!! If anyone recognizes "RANDOM JOTTINGS", which was a note book that a professor/scientist/genius used to keep his 'thoughts', PLEASE share the author's name and the title of the book!!! Thank You.

In the meantime, I referenced Shakespeare. James Oliver Curwood wrote about Kazan, the Wolf Dog, and later Baree, Son of Kazan. From those two books, read when I was eleven, I searched for and found other books about Canada. Later there was Walter Farley, author of the Black Stallion, and the Island Stallion series. I think I met my FIRST friendly alien in the Island Stallion Races.

Of course, Edgar Rice Burroughs taught me much false history about the jungles of Africa, as well as the Moon and Mars. But I loved every 'read-under-the-covers-with a-flashlight' minute! I believe he was a contemporary of Zane Grey, because he wrote a few non-jungle and non-space stories, too. Which led me to Zane Grey.

Having read both of their biographies at a young age, I learned about the hardships of being a writer. I should say 'the hardships of a struggling writer'. I have never had a problem writing. Since I write for 'fun' and not 'profit', the few short stories I've had published were by local press, and a State magazine.

No, my struggles have centered around graduating high school, and completing college, stuggling to satisfy my husband, a 'Mr. Spock in the Flesh' personality, and later raising two children without benefit of parental support or child support. But we survived in the middle of laughter and many tears. And my made up stories about children lost in the woods who were rescued by a great friendly bear, or wolf. Or dog. And sometimes by a great Black Panther - a by product of one of my Pawpaw's 'local historical tales'.

I understand that publishers detest stories that begin with "It was a dark and stormy night.." But let me tell you, some of the BEST bedtime stories occur on stormy nights when the power has gone out, and it's too hot for candles or lanterns. That shadow that stands darkest in the corner and seems to be moving towards the bed is actually grandma come to check on the kids, and stands quiet so not to disturb the kids if they're already asleep. But since they are awake, and they see her 'shadow', she becomes the old crone who lives in the castle dungeon, and has slipped her chains to visit with the 'wee folk'. But there are no fairies out on such a blustery night, so the old crone comes to visit with the 'wee bairn', who fall all over themselves to get out of bed and sit around her to hear her stories of 'long ago' and other 'dark and stormy nights'. Again -- unpublished, because publishers don't like ... LOL

Of course there's always On-Line publishing. But that involves more work than actual writing.

Back to the writrs who influenced my writing:

While I enjoy a good Western, an adventurous space trek, or time travel, I also enjoy the occasional Historical Romance. Georgette Heyer was my first! I still re-read her amazing books. Of course there's Jane Austen.

There are a myriad of modern writers that I have read over the last five decades. Heinlen, Asimov, Norton, Bradley, McCaffrey, Moon, Stirling, Krentz/Castle/Quick, and Moening, just to name a few of the ones whose books I have in my personal library.

Those older authors did affect my writing style to develope as I read their stories. The later authors helped me to move into the late 20th century. But I'm not so sure that I like the 21st century so much. It's all about being politically 'correct'. If you aren't ashamed of your gender, your race, your country, your religion, your culture, your family, your history, then you are prejudiced. That's just too much guilt to have to live with.

I'm still dealing with my mom's death from ten years ago. I was her care-giver for five years. Her doctor had given her nine months. I still worry if I did enough for her in those last years.

And though my children are grown with their own families, I worry that I wasn't a good enough parent. And I worthy as a grandmother? How was I as an older sister? I was responsible as a moral guide when our parents were at work. Was I a good neighbor? A good support in our Church? And Hollywood wants me to feel guilt about something I can't change?!!

I'm an old woman who still likes being a woman and enjoys liking men. I'm not just white. I'm also mixed with a bit of Native American, and even a drop of -- OMG!!! --- Black. snicker.

That's a serious joke, because as a kid I had a recuring nightmare that I was a black man being judged by a group of people in white hoods I was hanged amidst their fiery torches. I always thought those white hoods represented the Catholic Church, because at that young age I didn't know about the Ku Klux Klan. Even though I grew up in the South, my family was not involved with that group of out-lawrey. Thank God!

Still, I'm supposed to feel shame? For something not even my family supported.

I've always believed there's a hint of Fae in my DNA. Because I love dancing in the light of the full moon, and flying with the owls who perch outside my bedroom window and call to invite me to follow the moon's shadow. If I am part Fae, I know it came from my mother's people. They were Irish mixed with Alabama Indians who believed in the Nunnehi aka Immortal, and the Yunwi Tsunsdi, aka Little People.

ALSO, while there's no DNA proof of ancestry, I've always been a 'closet Chinese'.

In the Fifties, when WW2 was still fresh, and we were involved with the 'Korean Conflict', and at odds with China, I would sneak around the radio, turn down the volume, and tune into 'that wierd channel' that sometimes played Opera, or Chinese music. Ahhh. I would close my eyes and wander through the few visuals I'd found in books, or the occasional movie. (before color tv)

A year or two ago I was totally depressed and disgusted with American TV. Hollywood has become so political, so wierd. Their programming is no longer for entertainment, but to 'educate, enlighten, or to inform'. zzzzz

Then I found KDrama!!!!! Korean TV. Japanese Tv. squeal!!! Chinese TV.

The rom/coms are sweet and 'pure'. Okay. I'm realistic. This is not a reflection of real life on any planet. But the innocence of the early 1950s programs is there. Similar to Disney's 'Summer Magic'. I'm happy with those dramas that remind me of thati nnocence. I have found a few dramas that shared more than I cared for, and I do enjoy an occasional 'romp'. But I've always preferred the Lady and Gentleman characters.

And watching these programs have reminded me of those fairy tales and legends from my childhood that had been sprinkled with the Occasional Oriental myth, legend, and children's tale.

Then I remembered my FIRST historical legend. "The White Stag" by Kate Seredy, is the tale of Atilla the Hun!

I recently found a copy of that book and am waiting for a quiet time, when the power is out and there's nothing to do. Then I will use one of the many flashlights I bought for a huge hurricane, and relax on the sofa beneath an open window and read this legend once again. I live in Florida. The odds of this happening increases as the summer progresses. I can't wait to learn if my memory of this tale of Atilla the Hun remained true, or has been distorted in the last half of a century.

Most of the tales that I write involve space adventures, the occasioanl ghost, and encounters with fairies, the evil ones, not the romantic ideal fairy. smh

I've never been very good with romance or comedy. But thanks to the recent influence of the Asian productions, I have re-formatted one of my dark adventures and turned it into a rom/com.

I love a good joke, but very seldom get the point or see the humor. And I can NEVER remember the punch line if I try to share a joke. My family have said they will write on my tombstone --

"I don't remember the punchline ... but it was funny."

But as I write humorous lines or events I find myself laughing. Or crying at sad events. And I am all 'giggly' when I write what is supposed to be innocent romance between a young and shy couple. But I have never felt that my own reactions were a true guide to how the story might come across to a 'reader'.

As it happens, I have two sisters younger than I am. My middle sister is bored easily and immediately redirects our conversation to something about 'her'. Okay. I understand. She is lonely, needy, and maybe a bit selfish? Not judging. She's the 'middle child' and that's her excuse. ROFL..

But the youngest sister is my greatest fan who declares that I am an awesome writer. "I love you, sister, dear."

So she visited me last week and patiently listened as I read the first chapter. She listened quietly, and I wondered if I had 'read her to sleep'. sigh. Boring books are often the best sleeping pill. Then I heard her laugh.

Squeals/Dancing/hooting/flying around the room in ecstasy!!

Okay! At least one person has laughed. And she's not that easily 'tickled'.

So, I will always carry on and write. But now I feel that at least I might be following a path strewn with "Black-Eyed-Susans, honeybees, butterflies, and bunnies".

I don't know if anyone will read this, or will enjoy it. I hope so. While sharing bits of my youth, my worries, and my concern about certain ones of my 'stories', I actually had ideas for developing 'new' stories.

I am always amazed when writers say they are 'blocked'. I have only to open my eyes to see a world around me that no one else can envision. I listen to a song, and I'm in a different world, time, planet. A gift from Pawpaw, and Mother's DNA.

It is my oldest granddaughter's birthday this month, and I don't know what to give her for her birthday. But when she was younger, she always asked me to tell her a story. I think that I will pull out one of my OLD/ANCIENT tales that I wrote when her dad was her age and make it into a book for her.

p---leia aka Mamma KayeLee

7/19/2020

3 notes · View notes

mongrel-eyes · 5 years ago

Text

Everything I Read in 2019

In total, I read 45 books of my own accord in 2019, and there were probably about one-fourth as many that I started but never ended up finishing. A loose goal for myself (which I formed in the later half of the year as I realized that I had read quite a lot) was to reach 52 books so that I would effectively have one book per week of the year. That obviously didn’t happen, but it’s not something I feel was of great importance. Last year, I read 10 books (I think I may have read a few more than that, but I don’t remember). That was more than all the books I’d read in the past 7 years added together. The past decade has been a rollercoaster, but this final year has brought something of a conclusion, closure, and some healing. It’s the end of one novel of my life - time for the next.

2019 Booklist

The Slow Regard of Silent Things // Patrick Rothfuss

I have read all of the books published for The Kingkiller Chronicle thusfar; however, The Slow Regard of Silent Things honestly trumps both The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man’s Fear for me (and I do not say this lightly because I think both novels are fantastic, and I was practically drunk and grinning from ear to ear after reading “A Silence of Three Parts” for the first time). Auri’s quirks and the way she sees and moves through the world is nearly identical to what I have experienced for much of my life. The first time I read this book, I wept because I saw myself so vividly written in its pages. Though it is short, and I think many would deem it as not particularly exciting or significant, I understand it very deeply. As Rothfuss writes in his end letter: it is not a normal story for normal readers; it is a story for the storytellers and the dreamers.

The Magician’s Nephew // C.S. Lewis The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe // C.S. Lewis The Horse and His Boy // C.S. Lewis Prince Caspian // C.S. Lewis The Voyage of the Dawn Treader // C.S. Lewis The Silver Chair // C.S. Lewis The Last Battle // C.S. Lewis

I grew up reading C.S. Lewis’s stories of Narnia. One of my earliest memories is of listening to an audiotape recording of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I remember exactly where I was in this memory, and the exact sentences of the book being read to me through the car speakers. Narnia has always and will always hold a special place in my heart, and it was good to visit again after such a long time away. Thanks to a variety of health problems which had all but wiped out my long-term personal memories, I remembered only an echo of the enchantment of these books, and when I picked them up again early in the year, I was not disappointed.

Educated // Tara Westover

Educated was a hard book for me to read. It was raw and powerful, and I know a fraction of the pain and circumstance Westover describes. In one portion of the book, she writes that believing you are not hurt is sometimes the way in which abuse hurts you the most. I understood that, and by the end I felt so proud of this strong young woman who challenged her entire world. It wasn’t always pretty or heroic (oftentimes it was ugly and lonely), but it was true.

Bridge to Terabithia // Katherine Paterson

I grew up 10 miles away from the small town which served as the inspiration for Lark Creek. It has been a powerful and significant story in my life from the time I first read it early in 2009. Again, due to failing memory, I only recalled an echo of what it really was. One spring morning, I walked outside, hung in my hammock and didn’t budge until I had read this book from cover to cover. It was like reuniting with a very old friend.

Mortal Engines // Philip Reeve

I became interested in Mortal Engines because of the trailers for the upcoming film that kept showing up for me in Spotify. I was thoroughly warned by the internet to steer clear of the film (I still would like to see it at some point, but I don’t have high hopes), but my friend highly recommended that I read the book. I actually listened to the audiobook recording from Hoopla. Barnaby Edwards is a brilliant narrator, and I loved every minute of it. It was not the kind of story that struck me to my absolute core (personally), but it was powerful and captivating all the same.

Where the Forest Meets the Stars // Glendy Vanderah

I picked up this book because I liked the title, nothing more. It turned out to be a beautiful story of the making of a beautiful family (it also made for a beautiful hardcover). It was unfortunately triggering at one point, but despite that I enjoyed the story and the characters and the cleverness crafted into Ursa’s character.

Perelandra // C.S. Lewis

In the Fall/Winter of 2018, I listened to Out of the Silent Planet on my commutes to and from school. Many years ago (I can’t even remember how long), I had read Out of the Silent Planet but had quite forgotten anything about it other than that the main character’s name was Ransom. After returning to it at the end of last year, I listened to Perelandra in late May. Out of all of books in the Space Trilogy, I found this one to be the slowest and least interesting. However, that is not to say that I did not enjoy the book. Lewis’s descriptions of the world on Venus were riveting and vivid, and listening to and analyzing the debate/war between Ransom and Weston was of particular interest and importance to me.

That Hideous Strength // C.S. Lewis

Following Perelandra, I immediately listened to That Hideous Strength. It surprised me later to learn that this third installment of the Space Trilogy was received with the least positive appraisal of the three. I found it to be my favourite of them all. I see many echoes between this fiction and the reality which we face, and that was somewhat intriguing, frightening, and comforting all jumbled together. I have a theory (or more accurately, a hypothesis) which I refer to as “the mortal gods.” I won’t go into any details of it here, but I felt in That Hideous Strength that C.S. Lewis understood my mortal gods. He just called them by different names.

Night Flights // Philip Reeve

I listened to this book on Hoopla, and though it was short I thoroughly enjoyed learning more about the character of Anna Fang. This story provides details on how she rose to become the notorious Wind Flower plaguing the cities from Mortal Engines.

I Rode a Horse of Milk-White Jade // Diane Wilson

I first read this book when I was younger than 9 years old. Even back then, I loved this book, and when I returned to it this year, I loved it again. I had not even touched it for over 10 years. When I was very young, I had a great respect for the Mongolian nomads; and, of course, since this book brought those people to life, it became and is very special to me.

The Bible (English Standard Version)

Though I was raised in a religious household, I had never actually read the Bible from cover to cover (although I had read the majority of it in bits and parts throughout my life and been lectured on it for countless hours). It took me 3 months to slog through it, but in the end, it wasn’t just slogging. I found that if I put aside everything I thought I knew about this book and read it as if it was historic mythology instead of whatever rigid, legalistic stories and verses I had been led to believe it was when I was younger, it came alive in the way the story of Icarus comes alive every time you read a new rendition or see a new painting. C.S. Lewis described it as “true myth,” and I am inclined to believe that approaching it as “myth” is perhaps the most accurate of all the different ways in which I see people trying to describe or understand it and failing in their attempts to squash a god (seriously, the thought of a god in and of itself is mind-bending if you really stop to think about it) to fit into the tiny boxes of their mortal lives.

The Wanderer’s Journal: A Journey Through the Heart of Hallownest // Kari Fry & Ryan Novak

Saying I loved the game Hollow Knight is an understatement. Of course, when Fangamer announced they would be publishing a wanderer’s journal in collaboration with Team Cherry, I had to read it. I’ve always loved field guide-esque books (specifically, Dragonology), so of course I was especially delighted while reading the journal.

The Hobbit // J.R.R. Tolkien

Previously, I had only listened to The Hobbit as an audiobook. Once. That was over 10 years ago (probably closer to 13 or 15 years). This summer, I finally read the words written on the pages myself. Middle Earth is home to me, and it was good to be home.

The Book of Three // Lloyd Alexander The Black Cauldron // Lloyd Alexander The Castle of Llyr // Lloyd Alexander Taran Wanderer // Lloyd Alexander The High King // Lloyd Alexander The Foundling // Lloyd Alexander

I remember I was in the car with my mom and sister on the way to Nowhere one day. I was reading a book of my own in the back (I have a vague recollection that it might have been from the Redwall series by Brian Jacques) when my mom announced that she had a new series from the library that she wanted us all to listen to together in the car. Initially, I was annoyed because my mom did not always pick out the most interesting of books (there had been occasions where I was bored to tears when she picked something), but I grudgingly gave in. Of course, it was The Prydain Chronicles. I returned to these books this summer and barreled through them within two days (during which I had been excused from work with a doctor’s note due to a curious situation). Middle Earth is home, but Prydain (alongside Narnia) has to be a close second.

Native American Myths // Diana Ferguson

I have held great respect and admiration for the Native Americans and their cultures for as long as I can remember. Over the years, I’ve read books on Norse, Welsh, English, German, Greek, Egyptian, and Sumerian mythology; however, finding good books on Native American mythology seemed almost impossible (at one point I did find a book of Native American myths centered around Raven in a used bookstore but it was 60USD, and while I did want it very much, I was a poor student who couldn’t afford expensive second-hand books). Ferguson’s compilation of myths was fascinating to read. Some of the stories I had heard echoes of before in various places, but Ferguson also provided anecdotes and insights of how these myths were woven into the Native American tribes and cultures. Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed learning even a little bit more about these people whom I have admired since I was a small child.

The Fellowship of the Ring // J.R.R. Tolkien

[ See The Return of the King ]

The Remarkable Journey of Prince Jen // Lloyd Alexander

I started out reading this story expecting it to be one thing, but it turned out to be something else entirely. I had read it before a long time ago and gotten it mixed up with a different story I have been able to vaguely recall but unable to find for 10 years and counting. Jen’s story is captivating and lovely in its own right – simple and enchanting, like a dandelion wish.

The Two Towers // J.R.R. Tolkien

[ See The Return of the King ]

Tolkien and Lewis: The Gift of Friendship // Colin Duriez

Despite having read the vast majority of Tolkien’s literature and a good amount of Lewis’s, I had never read a biography of either of them. I found this biography addressing both authors and their unique friendship. I enjoyed learning more about both of them and how their relationship formed and affected each other’s work.

The Return of the King // J.R.R. Tolkien

[Unlike Narnia and Prydain, I felt I couldn’t lump the titles of The Lord of the Rings together and still maintain the chronological list; therefore, the first two titles received no paragraph, but here is a summary for all three.]

In lieu of how easy it is to just watch Peter Jackson’s film adaptations, it’s easy to forget how deep and rich Tolkien’s writing really is. I can say this with honesty and without judgement, because I forgot too. Relearning the depths of Tolkien and rediscovering why I came to love and live and breathe Middle Earth in my childhood in the first place was powerful and healing for me. If you’ve only watched the movies, you’re honestly really missing out. Yes, Tolkien loves to talk about plants and trees and forests to no end, and maybe that’s not your thing and that’s okay; however, these stories are pure magic – tried and true.

The Raven Boys // Maggie Stiefvater The Dream Thieves // Maggie Stiefvater Blue Lily, Lily Blue // Maggie Stiefvater The Raven King (+Opal) // Maggie Stiefvater

I had tried to listen to The Raven Boys on Hoopla earlier in the year and become bored to tears – the narrator was just that bad and I felt the whole thing was just doomed to become a terrible love polygon. Several months later, a friend encouraged me to give it another try. I did (this time reading it straight from the page), and I was delightedly surprised. I had heard of The Raven Cycle for years but been too scared to pick it up (honestly, love polygons can be terrible things), but I’m glad that this year I finally did.

Carry On // Rainbow Rowell

I heard of Carry On while in the midst of reading The Raven Cycle. I found it to be highly amusing: reminiscent of Percy Jackson, but perhaps with better writing (in my personal opinion; I still have a fondness for Percy).

Comet in Moominland // Tove Jansson

I have seen screenshots of the 90’s Moomin show for years but never bothered to truly figure out where they came from until recently. I learned that Moomin originally came from a book. I thought it would be a picture book, and I was pleasantly surprised when I learned that Moomin actually came from a book book. I found Comet in Moominland to be heartwarming and cute with beautiful illustrations and words that can speak to the oldest soul, despite being a children’s book.

Call Down the Hawk // Maggie Stiefvater

Ronan was my favourite character from The Raven Cycle because I felt I understood him the most, which is a rather amusing sentiment to me on the surface level since I am probably one of the least edgy people you will ever meet. Learning more about Stiefvater’s world of Dreamers was particularly interesting and important to me (dreams have always been important to me, and dreams have shaped a good part of my life, actually). Chapter 3 (starts on page 19 of the hardcover copy) was very much like reading The Slow Regard of Silent Things for me: I understood, and I felt understood.

Tales from Moominvalley // Tove Jansson

A collection of cute short stories from Jansson’s Moomins. These were amusing, but at this point Moomins are important to me, so the book was very special all the same.

Six of Crows // Leigh Bardugo Crooked Kingdom // Leigh Bardugo

Six of Crows is a significant book to me. I remember when it was first published in 2015. I heard of it and immediately wanted to read it; however, there were many circumstances and unfortunate happenings which led to me not being able to read it until this year. The duology is now ranked among the stories which made me. To me, it’s a victory song.

The Moomins and the Great Flood // Tove Jansson

I had heard talk of the Great Flood in Comet in Moominland and been slightly confused from it being out of context. This book provided the context for this flood and is somewhat of a prequel to the rest of the Moomin books. As always, it’s a cute story with wonderful illustrations.

Shadow and Bone // Leigh Bardugo Siege and Storm // Leigh Bardugo Ruin and Rising // Leigh Bardugo

After finishing the Six of Crows duology, I learned that it was actually a sequel series to Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I finished Ruin and Rising last night and while I didn’t enjoy the trilogy as much as Six of Crows, it provided context for some of the characters featured in the duology, and I enjoyed the characters of Alina and Mal as well as learning more about Bardugo’s Grishaverse.