#charism

╰┈➤ you can call me miss alv ╰┈➤ i'm from the far, far north ╰┈➤ early thirties, happily married with children

ao3 masterlist (not updated) currently writing: karma pope cody x reader (masterlist)

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ currently on maternity leave, but might be writing, you never know ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ some of the stuff I write is 18+ only. minors, please do not interact ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Ravi

about me:

My name is Alv or Miss or Miss Alv and I'm a writer from the far, far north (indigenous Sámi). Mechanical engineer, 30s, happily married, TWO kids, one dog, etc. I write a lot more fanfiction than anything else, but I have some original projects too that I'm always trying to finish. Always eager to talk about my writing (or myself), loves ask and tag games, is trying to get better at interacting with other writers.

links: masterlist (not updated)| ao3

Currently on maternity leave, but might be writing. You never know.

Some of the stuff I write is 18+ only. If you are a minor, please do not interact 🌸

about my wips:

nnnnghhh yes.

On one hand I love to talk about my writing projects, but on another I'm always scared to be judged based on the original stuff. I don't know why exactly, my writing confidence comes and goes.

Aaaanyway, I have two projects in Norwegian I'm working on at the same time right now (because I'm indecisive like that):

Det var ikkje så mange som møtte opp når eg skulle avrettast. Eg kunne ikkje klandra dei, ikkje med slik eit ver som reiv i husveggane og tvang både folk og fe innandørs. Litt skuffande var det sjølvsagt, når ein først skulle brenne i hel, men ein kan rett og slett ikkje gjere noko med veret.

Så det var altså slik det skulle ende for meg – dømd til eld og flammar i ein alder av knappe seksten år. Det var vanskeleg å avgjøre kva som var verst. Lukta av bensin som gjennomsyra dei titals europallane i ein haug framfor meg, det grove tauet som gnog inn i handledda mine, eller utsikta til 17. mai-pynten som enno hang i vindauga på samfunnshuset. 

Rough translation:

Not many people showed up to my execution. I could not really blame them, not with this kind of storm that tore through the walls and forced both people and livestock inside. It was a little disappointing, obviously, when you were going to be burnt to death and all. But you simply cannot do anything about the weather.

So this was how it would end for me -- condemned to fire and flames at the tender age of sixteen years old. It was hard to decide what was worse. The smell of gasoline that permeated the dozens of EUR-pallets in a heap in front of me, the coarse rope that gnawed into my wrists, or the lovely view of the Constitution Day decorations that still hung in the windows of the community center.

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Thank you! This is the first snippet I've shared of this work on here and I don't think the translation do it justice, but I tried.

For every “🌹” received in my inbox I’ll post one random sentence/snippet of a random WIP I’m currently writing