#also yes my toddler is literally enormous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blackradandmad · 3 years

Text

why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

#lil rambles #long post t #idk why it's formatted like this ig cos i copy pasted from my fb?#whatever anyway idk why i waste my writing skills on shit literally nobody else but me cares abt #blippi #children's television

52 notes · View notes

esamastation · 3 years

Text

kine-iende: ..Obi-wan with Baby-Desmond?

It wasn't what Obi-Wan was there to do. Aacee was an old world with eons of complicated history and culture, and what went on in their black markets wasn't supposed to be any of his business. What was his business is helping the system negotiate a tricky situation concerning a recently established hyperlane route that threatened to destabilise the planet's frankly concerning economy.

Aacee didn't trade in any currency that the Republic used – they dealt in DNA and blood samples, and the sudden influx of thousands of outsiders using Aacee as a pitstop on one of the longest hyperlanes in that quadrant of the galaxy, well. It had quickly flooded the carefully balanced trade-market with an incalculable amount of fresh new currency. And it didn't help that Aacee possessed some of the rather disturbing amount of wealth, which they didn't see as wealth...

Already a wealthy Core World businessman had traded some ten thousand blood samples for quite a deal of local metals and minerals – which he'd then gone on to make enormous profit with. On Aacenian side, the injection of so many fresh new DNA samples into their carefully balanced market…

In the words of the Grandmaster of their governmental Order, they were heading into a Blood Recession.

Obi-Wan had mediated negotiations dealing with various valuable resources before, but literal blood money was new to him. The Aacenians even had money with blood in it, transparent hard flimsy chips with a dot of red liquid preserved inside.

But that wasn't the issue here – the issue is that while investigating various local guilds trying to disrupt the hyperlane situation for their own gain, Obi-Wan had run into…

He's not quite sure what he's run into. But he would know those eyes anywhere. Sith yellow and sharp, and looking at him like their owner could see his every weakness and knew exactly where to stick the lightsaber. There's Force, dark, murderous Force, glowing in those eyes.

And they're in the face of a toddler, sitting inside a glass display in one of the underground gatherings of local black blood markets – with people looking at the display like he's a great valuable.

"A perfect reconstruction," the host of the event says proudly, while the toddler frowns at him. "It took combining more than eighty bloodlines to bring the DNA together in full, but it's 99.8% accurate to the Original Sample. Subject 17, the very first tradable Memory donor, recreated as perfectly as modern sciences can manage."

There's a round of enthusiastic applause, and then… an auction. Obi-Wan listens in a growing horror as the Aacenians vie for the ownership of the child, and what they're musing is by far worse than what they're already doing.

"A near pure version, oh my – I suppose I will let him grow a little before I begin harvesting," one murmurs.

"You could have a female clone made and then breed them…"

"What a marvellous idea!"

"I would be interestested in any of the organs, if it ever comes down to biopsying – bone marrow and brain cells especially –"

Through this all, the child just looks around with his Sith yellow eyes, radiating Force and quietly simmering in frustrated helplessness. Every now and then the child's eyes turn to Obi-Wan, and the Jedi could swear there's recognition in those cinder eyes. The child is a Force sensitive – enough so to recognise another Force sensitive on sight. And he's using the Dark Side of the force with a liberal, careless baby hand.

… while around him people are talking about draining his blood and making their fortunes off him, like he's an untapped gold mine, ready to be plundered.

Yes, Obi-Wan is very prompt and thorough in reporting the auction and calling the Guards on all of them – and then he's faced with the look the Grandmaster of the Order gives to the child, awed and distinctively covetous.

"A near pure clone of the Original Sample –" the Grandmaster breathes. "We could base a whole new economic tradition on his harvested blood!"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to dash those hopes," Obi-Wan says firmly, while quickly claiming the child from the hands of eager attendants. "Under Republic law, this not only amounts to a clear case of slavery, but also abuse of a sentient youngling."

The child in his arms takes a grip of Obi-Wan's robes, staring up at the Grandmaster and radiating a calm sense of bad man kill at Obi-Wan, who tries very hard not to react. It's not exactly in words, but the intent is very clear.

"Knight Kenobi," the Grandmaster says, somewhere between exasperation and condescension. "You obviously don't understand how our economy functions –"

"No, clearly not, but I will be making a thorough study of it," Obi-Wan says firmly and then adds, "I'm also going to have to report this to the Senate. Do you know that under Republic law the trade of organs of unwilling, unconsenting donors is quite illegal with very heavy ramifications? This includes blood."

"Not if the donors are clones, Knight Kenobi – I know the laws too," the Grandmaster says and goes to take the child from Obi-Wan. "I know our rights – and the clones we use in our economy have next to none."

The toddler makes a discontent noise, pressing closer to Obi-Wan. Do not want. Death to bad man.

Obi-Wan gives the toddler a soothing little bounce, keeping him well out of arm's reach. "As a Force Sensitive youngling, however, this one does," he says.

The Grandmaster hesitates. "Force Sensitive –" he starts, and then his eyes widen.

"Yes – your black market cloners seem to have done the impossible and produced a Force Sensitive reconstruction of one of your ancient ancestors," Obi-Wan agrees as sweetly as he can, no matter how the idea worries him, and no matter how much murderous intent the baby radiates at him. "And you may trust me, Grandmaster, people will be very interested in the process. It will bring quite the deal of publicity to your fine world – including, I expect, a thorough investigation by the Jedi Order."

It would also bring the planet into public consciousness, including their economic system, which would likely lead to further flooding of their market and its inevitable total destruction. Obi-Wan can't say he particularly cares anymore, knowing now what it was based on.

The toddler looks up at him, sticks most of his fist into his mouth and thinks, kill bad man?

No, little one, Obi-Wan answers with sigh while the Grandmaster of Aacee sputters in indignation. No killing today. Be calm, be at peace – bad men won't hurt you, I won't let them.

The toddler sighs, clearly put upon by this refusal, but settles against his side. Kill bad man later, he projects and presses his cheek to Obi-Wan's chest, still chewing on his own fist. His next thought is more muddled and complicated, and amounts to break all their toys. Or maybe dismantle their powerbase and overthrow the government, but Obi-Wan rather hopes it's the first one.

Either way, there's still a lot of work to be done in Aacee, and Obi-Wan is determined to do a good job of it, even if he has to do it while never letting the toddler out of his sight for the fear of seeing him kidnapped by blood-hungry Aacenians. And if he ends up forming a fledgeling Force-bond with a toddler darksider… well.

He'll deal with it later.

Continued here

#fanfiction #crossover #Assassin's Creed #star wars #obi wan kenobi #desmond miles #Badass with a Baby

228 notes · View notes

morwensteelsheen · 3 years

Note

Faramir and Denethor can read the 'hearts and minds' of men, and F has some vague 'mastery' over animals evidently, but how would that shake out with babies/little kids?

Anon im so sorry this took me ages to respond to, I got distracted by the hampden cataclysm last night 💀

So please know that I am incredibly 🥺 over this question because it’s so soft!!! So soft!!!

My first instinct is to say that both Denethor and Faramir were probably suuuuuper good for figuring out what the hell kids were crying about when it seemed like they were crying for no reason. In that sense, I think, both Boromir and Faramir and Elboron + additional non-canonical Emyn Arnen kiddos actually probably got to elide the terrible twos and rough toddler years. So much of that age is difficult because kids aren’t fully equipped to articulate what they want and are feeling yet, and parents obviously aren’t mind readers. But if you’re Denethor and Faramir and get to, essentially, side step that last obstacle, it means you’re going to be much better equipped for stemming toddler tantrums before they get out of control. I sort of have this vision in my head of poor Finduilas being exhausted almost to the point of tears because she’s got two kids under the age of seven to deal with, Boromir’s just hurt himself doing Seven Year Old Boy things, Faramir’s wailing because he’s literally two, and she can’t figure out why. And Denethor arrives (cue that Donald Glover gif of him walking into an on-fire living room), and is like, it’s okay, Faramir’s toy just fell down the side of the cot and he doesn’t know how to get it out. And that’s basically the end of that.

One thing that I am constantly thinking about and trying very hard not to think about is at what point they’re both, like, Aware of babies. In the way I explained this hearts and minds garbage in AFTA, I had it kind of like tuning a radio. I don’t think it necessarily needs to be reliant on spoken words or a vocalised inner monologue, I think it relies on consciousness and/or emotions. There’s some research to say that babies develop memory/consciousness at around five months old, but there’s also research that says that unborn babies are aware of and respond to their mother’s emotions in the latter stages of pregnancy.

(As an aside, Googling this stuff has made me look like an absolute right wing nutjob, like I’m trying to be like no abortion! baby feeling! Anyways.)

So if babies can tune into their mother’s emotions in utero, I was like, hm, wonder if that shows up on Denethor + Faramir’s brainwave radio scanner. And if it does, are they able to discern the difference between baby and mother? Would be both very sweet and very funny if the answer was yes, and also probably enormously stressful for everybody involved if not handled properly. Poor Éowyn getting stressed out because she’s Trying to have a normal pregnancy while essentially living in Disney™’s Frontierland and baby Elboron is getting stressed because mom’s stressed and Faramir is getting stressed because Éowyn and Elboron are stressed and surely stress is not good for an unborn child, Éowyn!

Okay. Anon, this is such a delightful question and I’m getting incredibly emotional over it. I’m gonna leave my answer here because I have to prep for my job interview (!!!) but I’m gonna come back to this once that’s said and done because I have more thoughts. Oh god, my heart.

#asks #hc #Éowyn #faramir #denethor #LOTR

7 notes · View notes

shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

A Mom, A Grandchild, and A Wife For the New Year

A/N: So, have you seen HiBiKi StYle #448 with AiAi and Maho-nee doing the cooking relay? It’s one of the most chaotic things I’ve ever enjoyed xD. There’s a subbed version on YouTube haha. This gave me an idea for a fic, but I’ll probs be mostly basing it off the first half. Maho-nee is better at cooking than Aiai it seems, but character-wise, I feel like Claudine cooks better than Maya so…

I was supposed to release this on time for New Year’s, but ended up frustrated and reading other fics instead, so my sincerest apologies.

Fudge… this was not supposed to be this long. I told myself it would only be 1k-3k words, but hoho, no. 7-frikkin-thousand words. Stupid Khaz. Haaa…

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

“Umm…”

“So…”

“What exactly-“

“-Do we do with… that.”

“Junna-chan! Don’t call her “that”! She’s a child! A person!” Nana scolded her partner, also very perplexed with the situation right before their eyes.

“Well, she wasn’t a child five minutes ago?!” Junna replied with the same amount of exasperation in her voice.

“Then she’s a person! A human. Don’t call her… “that”.” Nana replied, gesturing towards the little girl seated on the living room carpet, looking to seven pairs of eyes staring back that held various emotions ranging from stressed, perplexed and confused, curious, excited, and just plain weirded out.

“Well, she’s certainly been a handful these past few minutes.” Junna sighed, looking around the living room area for some kind of toy to hand to the child to distract her, and keep her in place, behaved, while the rest of them searched for a way to fix this situation.

“Come on, Jun-Jun! She’s pretty cute, if you think about it.” Karen exclaimed, taking a step closer and reaching her hand out for the child to take. “See?”

“She’s quite pretty too. Though she always has been.” Mahiru murmured, taking her spot beside Karen and inwardly squealing as the little girl beamed at her after she petted her hair. “So adorable.”

“She seems kinda smart too.” Futaba pitched in after seeing how the person had acted- despite the various mishaps they indirectly caused- in this situation, trying to walk about and nearly smashing her face into the table, or trying to hand Nana a book she was reaching for when she held the girl in her lap, but almost dropping it on the larger girl’s foot.

“Well, sure. She’s all of those things.” Kaoruko rolled her eyes. “After all, she’s Also Tendou Maya.”

No one could refute the statement, seven heads bobbing in agreement.

“So?” Futaba looked to everyone in curiosity.

“So, what?” Junna replied.

“HAHHAHAHA, Mahiru-chan, she said so what, she just said ‘so what?’” Karen hollered, Junna’s statement making it seem like she didn’t care.

“Karen-chan… I don’t think you’re supposed to laugh at that in this situation…”

Ignoring the tiny deviance, Futaba continued. “How are we supposed to tell Kuroko about this?”

“…”

“Ah.”

Was the girls’ collective reaction. They hadn’t thought about that until now. Claudine was currently out of the dorm to do some shopping as she had volunteered to prepare dinner for tonight to celebrate the coming new year as no one from their little group had decided to go home for the holidays, now that they were in their third and final year. She claimed she had always cooked for her parents each time she went home so it was a habit she wanted to continue, even away from home.

Of course, everyone was more than willing to allow her to do so, curious as to the French’s cooking. Nana and Mahiru, along with Junna had offered helping hands to which Claudine accepted should she need them eventually. But for the shopping process, she’d rather do it on her own as she had yet to decide on what she’d like to make and did not want to inconvenience them with hopping from shop-to-shop undecided for hours on end.

They didn’t mind at all, but after some reassurance from the former child actress, they let her be, awaiting her patiently in the dorm with nothing better to do as school had been closed for the holidays.

Maya had begged- yes, begged- Claudine to allow her to come, but she was only met with a flick to the forehead and a firm, ‘No’. And even Maya knew never to push it when Claudine was that determined. Begrudgingly, she watched the love of her life walk away, taking the top star’s heart and soul with he-

“Don’t be so dramatic while I’m away, do you hear me?” Claudine had warned, familiar with how Maya’s thought process worked. She gave Maya a kiss on the forehead to temporarily satiate her clinginess. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

With that, Saijou Claudine had left for her little shopping trip. And now, three uneventful hours had gone by.

Or well, the girls hoped it had just been that.

As they were lounging in the dorm’s common room, Maya suddenly started feeling sick. She had crouched down, curling into a ball on the sofa. Worried, Nana approached her and put a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, wincing at the terrible heat that radiated off the poor girl as she pulled back immediately, feeling like she’d get burned.

Turning to the other inhabitants of the room, she gave separate instructions such as telling Hikari and Karen where to get the cooling pads and icepacks, respectively; she told Futaba and Kaoruko to grab Maya’s blanket and pillows, as well as some spare clothes should the girl feel cold later on due to the extreme and sudden fever. Junna had grabbed Mahiru to accompany her to the school clinic to find the nurse, and maybe get some medicine. If she wasn’t there- understandable as they had been told that the school would be closed for the holidays- then they would have to find the nearest pharmacy for some over-the-counter fever medicine.

“Tendou-san!” Karen was the first to accomplish her task, the icepack retrieved from the fridge just a few steps away. Her squeak made everyone returning to the room even more cautious now.

“What’s wrong?” Junna queried, now donning her coat and boots, coming from her room.

“She’s … shrinking…”

“You mean shaking, BaKaren?” Hikari muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.

“No…” Nana’s voice wavered, unsure at what she and Karen were seeing, and how to tell the rest just what it was that they were seeing. “She’s literally… shrinking.”

“…”

“Well damn, if I’ll be. So it’s possible for her to be cute, after all.”

“Kaoruko!”

//-//-//-//-//

“So ya think keeping her in our room is goin’ ta work? That’s some sloppy judgment coming from you, Junna-han.”

“You have the larger room between us, so if she doesn’t turn back soon, you have enough space for her to sleep.” The bespectacled girl pointed out. “Saijou-san possibly has the largest room, but that defeats the purpose of keeping this issue a secret from her, right?”

“Remind me why we’re keeping this a secret from her, though? Wouldn’t it be better to just tell her?” Futaba sighed.

“Who wants to do the honors and tell someone as fiery and protective as Saijou-san that her girlfriend is a small child, and possibly cause even more panic and distress?”

“…”

“But Karen and them have more space, don’t they?” Futaba brought their attention back to the first topic, backing Kaoruko up, really not wanting to babysit two children.

“The enormous amounts of trust I have in Mahiru is negated by equal amounts of doubt I have in her roommates when it comes to childcare and many other matters.” Junna stated, pushing her glasses up.

“Hey!”

“You got a point.” Futaba sighed, acquiescing.

“Futaba-han!”

“I can at least trust Hayanagi-san to behave when she wants to.”

“That’s bein’ a little mean, don’t ya think?”

“Now, now~” Nana, ever the peacemaker, calmed everyone down.

“Fine. But we’re takin’ turns watchin’ the little brat. I can’t have her ruining my routine.”

“Your routine is mostly just you fucking around, though.”

“Futaba-han!”

“Futaba-chan!!!” Mahiru cried, not having enough hands to cover both Hikari’s and Karen’s ears.

“Nana… were you trying to cover my ears too?”

“…”

“Na!”

The tiny voice stole everyone’s attention.

“What…”

“Na! Na!” The little brown bundle giggled, looking up at the blonde, opening up her arms, asking to be carried. The tallest of the bunch squealed in delight, scooping up the small child, spinning her about.

“I’m so happy, Maya-chan!”

“AWwwww, that’s so cute!! And dang it Banana, why are you her first word!! I wanted to be it!”

“I think ‘Karen’ is a little hard for a toddler to say as a first word, Karen-chan.” Mahiru responded, patting the dejected girl’s head.

However, Aijo Karen was not one to be discouraged. “I’ll be her second word then!”

“Karen-chan…”

“Come on, Tendou-san. Say it with me. Ka-ren. Ka-ren.”

“Kawuko!”

“Nooooon!!!” Karen cried in despair.

“Oho~” Futaba clapped, impressed. “You can’t tell me that that don’t make you happy, Kaoruko.” She teased the bluenette who simply turned away blushing.

“I thought my name was difficult… isn’t Kaoruko-chan’s name harder?”

“Just move on, Karen.” Hikari sighed, rubbing the said girl’s back in comfort. “After all, I’m gonna have her say my name before yours.”

“Hikari-chan!” Mahiru cried.

“How old is this kid anyway?” Futaba asked, shifting the conversation to a new topic.

“Beats me.” Junna shrugged. “Nana, can you ask her?”

“Sure~” Nana replied, still playing with Maya, tossing her up in the air slightly from time to time, the child very pleased, apparent with how she laughed unabashed. “Ne, Maya-chan.”

“Na?”

“Mhm, Nana-oneechan wants to ask you something. If you can understand me, I hope…” She chuckled nervously, wide eyes giving her their full attention. “How old are you?”

It seems the little brunette did, in fact, understand as she held up two fingers.

“Wow, that’s younger than I expected.” Junna muttered, stroking her chin in thought. “Maybe I should have Mahiru watch over her, after all. It’s a little too worrying if someone without enough experience handles a child as small as her.”

“Nn?! …b-but we already decided on the arrangements, didn’t we?” Kaoruko suddenly interjected, surprising everyone.

“Oh~? What do we have here~?, Kaoruko, did you actually get attached to the idea of taking care of the kid, just now?” Futaba’s teasing returned, poking at her roommate’s side.

“N-not at all? I just thought that for convenience sake, we shouldn’t complicate our original plans.”

“Whatever you say.”

While everyone else switched between watching the pair bicker, and Nana playing with a tiny Tendou Maya, they failed to remember just why they were planning on hiding the child- or better yet, from whom they were hiding her… until the person in question’s voice through them into another state of hushed panic.

“I’m back!” This voice belonged to none other than the 99th class’ second seat, Saijou Claudine. Tendou Maya’s better half, as she would put it. “Ara? Where is everyone? Nana? Junna?” She called.

“Ah crap. Saijou-san is back.” Junna face-palmed, feeling her stress build up.

“Eeehhh, wha-what do we do?!”

“HIDE THE KID.”

“Calm down, Karen-chan, Hikari-chan. You too Mahiru-chan. Your grip is gonna kill Hikari- chan’s hand.” Nana worried at that last bit, seeing the poor London girl’s hand color a deathly pale. “Really, Mahiru-chan, you should let go right now.”

Junna groaned. She had wanted to go over this plan better. Guess they had no choice.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” She called for everyone’s attention. “Nana, Mahiru and I will distract Saijou-san by helping her with dinner preparations as we originally planned, earlier. We will try our best to not get her to look for Maya, or go to her room, and we’ll come up with an excuse.”

Heads nodded in understanding.

“The rest of you, watch the kid.” Junna gave the four a hard stare as the “mom friends” of the group filed out of the room one-by-one. “If you somehow meet with Saijou if you go out of this room, and she asks anything regarding Tendou-san, just say you don’t know or something.” And with that, the door was shut, the quartet to their own devices… oh and the baby, too.

…

“So… what now?”

//-//-//-//-//

True to her word, Junna and her companions were able to keep Claudine at bay, the girls in FutaKao’s room remaining undisturbed for the most part as they played with Maya for over an hour.

All had been going well, so far, but it seemed as though they had run out of games to play and the child and Karen alike were beginning to get bored.

This was dangerous.

Futaba preferred that no one venture out for the sake of ‘fun’.

“HUH?!” Her partner’s distressed cry grabbed her attention.

“Kaoruko?”

“These damn parents, at this particular time?” She muttered. “Futaba-han, I need you to come with me to the gate to pick up some stuff. My parents said I must retrieve it by myself since I chose to not go home, therefore no servant is going to be allowed to help me during my… independence, they claim.” Despite the clear reasons, Futaba remained seated.

“Why can’t you go by yourself? Someone needs to watch these kids.”

Kaoruko rolled her eyes. “Even I know how bad it could get to leave these two with a very small child, but if I could do this by myself, I wouldn’t even ask.” Futaba didn’t seem convinced. “It’ll take us five minutes. We grab the items, then we come back to find these three conked out and asleep, yeah? Now come on.”

There was clearly no room for the redhead to argue as she was dragged out the door by a rushing Kaoruko.

Hikari and Karen shared a look, shrugged, then returned to playing with Maya.

Or tried.

The child didn’t seem to like their current toys right now, throwing them about the room with a frown, and getting increasingly louder in her complaining cries.

“What do we do, Hikari-chan?” Karen turned to her best friend for help, but to no avail. “Ah!” She snapped. “I know! I think I have a toy in our room that would get her to quiet down! Let’s go get it!” Karen tugged at Hikari’s sleeve, pulling her onto her feet.

“Do we take her?” Hikari asked monotonously, pointing at the child- and… did she get… a little bigger? And had she been wearing that outfit earlier? Maybe Karen was just imagining things.

“No, we might get spotted walking with her.” She shook her head. “We’ll just run for our room then come back!”

Hikari didn’t question it, only suggesting that they lock the door as they left, Karen agreeing it was for the best.

With that, they left the child alone in the locked room with a wave as she just blinked back at them, staring at the closing door. The two bounded down the hallway, attempting to speedily retrieve the needed items before little Maya could get into any unsupervised trouble.

It barely took them three minutes to retrieve as many child-entertaining games and toys as they could find. As they walked up carefully to the door of Futaba and Kaoruko’s shared room, they met up with the said girls carrying semi-large boxes.

But that wasn’t important.

If she could do so without drawing attention to their little group, the young heiress would have screeched an ear-splitting scolding towards the two. Instead, she had to settle for a harsh series of whispers. “I thought we told you to watch her, not leave her alone!”

“B-but…” Karen whimpered. “She was starting to get really loud, and-and, we locked the door when we left, anyway.”

“you WHAT?! We don’t have keys on us!!!”

“…oh, dang.”

Futaba, equally frustrated, tried the doorknob anyway, brows raising high as it opened with little resistance. “Huh? I thought you said you locked it?”

“Eh?? But we did! Right, Hikari-chan?”

Hikari wordlessly nodded, brows now furrowed.

“No… no… please, don’t tell me…” Everyone burst into the room, eyes darting about so fast. Futaba and Karen had begun to look everywhere, beneath the bed, inside the locker. Kaoruko and Hikari decided to traverse the halls, hoping they’d catch sight of a little head of brown hair, to no luck.

What they did catch, however, was the confused gazes of Nana, Junna, and Mahiru as they were making their way back to the room, Claudine telling them that they had helped her enough and she could take it from there. They had reluctantly agreed to leave, but they supposed Claudine would now be too occupied to even think to look for Maya.

So what was going on, right now?

“Guys?”

“Oh no. It’s Junna.” Hikari drawled, panicking inside, but not letting it show.

“Hikari-chan? Weren’t you supposed to be watching…” Mahiru trailed off as a sniffling, teary Karen exited the room, running into her arms. “Karen-chan?!”

“…gonee!”

“Huh?”

“She’s gone! Tendou-san!”

“WHHAAATTTT-“

Before Junna could give everyone an earful, Nana dispatched all the girls around the dorm that wasn’t close to where Claudine was to avoid drawing her suspicion, seeing the girls move about in search of something. Rooms, other halls, bathrooms, spare practice rooms, the storage. They were to comb through every nook and cranny for Tendou Maya. There was no need to check the Kitchen as the trio who had assisted Claudine had just come from there and could confirm that the French was the only person present there and they had encountered no tiny top star on their way back to the room.

And so began the great ‘Tendou Maya’ hunt.

//-//-//-//-//

Claudine hummed a tune from their latest play, setting down the last of her prepared ingredients on the counter next to the stove. Mahiru, Junna and Nana had been of great help and they had finished preparing the desserts for later first to be able to set it aside in the fridge. All Claudine had left to do was to actually cook the meal.

“Where’s that large pan that I need…” Searching through the cupboards, she found exactly what she needed, placing the heavy pan on the stove and turning it on to start heating. Continuing her previous humming, Claudine suddenly jumped at the feel of something pulling on her pant leg.

What in the…

She was greeted by wide, curious violet eyes, blinking up at her innocently.

“Um…” There was something oddly familiar about this child currently standing beside Claudine. She just couldn’t put a finger to it. She didn’t look any older than the age of three or four, but she didn’t seem to have any guardian accompanying her either.

“Hi!” The lass greeted, beaming brightly at Claudine. The latter couldn’t help but smile back. She loved children, after all. And she secretly admitted to herself that this one, in particular, was absolutely adorable.

“Why, hello there.” Bending down to the little girl’s level, said girl staring up at her with large lilac eyes, while clinging to the hem of her apron, Claudine greeted back. “Bonjour~”.

The different language seemed to throw the child off, and Claudine could almost see the little cogs spinning in her head. “B-Bon… Bonzoo? Bonzhoo? Bonju?”

Claudine laughed airily, patting the brunette’s head tenderly. “Close enough. Bonjour.”

The child simply nodded this time, relenting on learning this strange word for now.

Claudine temporarily turned the stove off before turning back to her little companion, hands on her hips as she scrutinized the young girl’s features. “You really do look so terribly familiar.” With gorgeous violet eyes, lustrous chocolate hair pulled back in a ribbon-

Something clicked. “Ah! Are you, by chance, a relative of that insufferable Tendou Maya? You’re much cuter than she is, though.” Turning to the other girl, Claudine was surprised to see her pout despite the compliment.

“But I’m Maya! This. Is. Tendou Maya! I’m the cutest!”

Now, this confused Claudine. Was she a big fan of that infuriating woman? “Not only are you the spitting image of her, you even talk like her. I swear she is a bad influence.” Claudine sighed. “So, do I call you Maya?”

She was met with enthusiastic nodding, and she could only giggle at the sheer adorableness of it all.

“Alright, then. Maya.” Straightening up and looking about the room, hoping for some guardian to walk in, or perhaps her Maya, claiming the child as her secret relative, Claudine found no one, eyes trailing to the clock on the wall warning her that her time to prepare dinner was growing ever short.

She sighed again. Guessing that she should get a move on, she tried to point to the couch with a smile, nonverbally telling the kid to take a seat and wait there. About to return to her previous task of cooking, Claudine almost missed the way those large purple eyes stared at her in wait, as if asking a question. It made the blonde realize very quickly.

“Oh! Where are my manners.” She crouched down, eye-to-eye with the child, offering her hand out for a shake. “My name is Claudine”

She saw cute little brows furrow, wrinkles forming in the “Maya’s” forehead. Easing them away by massaging the area gently with her thumb, Claudine laughed as the child began to test her name out. “Ku-, Ko- Kro… hrnnghh” The child tried in vain.

Claudine laughed lightly.

“Kuu-chan!”

“Eh-“

“Kuu-chan!!!” It seemed as though the child had given up on trying to pronounce her name right, and the little moniker she had come up with made Claudine feel the tiniest bit shy.

“Now, now. Not that I don’t like that nickname you’ve come up with somehow… The real Tendou Maya would never give up, now would she?” She teased, feeling somewhat satisfied at the blush that flooded the little girl’s face. “But I guess, you could continue to call me that, if you so wish. Still, I do hope you will someday be able to pronounce my name properly.” Claudine hadn’t the slightest idea why she wanted such a thing, even if it was still later in the future, but she felt compelled to do so.

The child nodded, beaming at her brightly once more as she hugged Claudine’s leg.

“Okay, I really need to be getting back to my work. So, if you’d just allow me to…” Gently hoisting the girl up, causing a fit of the cutest giggles Claudine had ever heard in her life, she placed her on a stool in the kitchen where she could easily turn to check on the girl every once-in-a-while. “There we go.”

“Kuu-chan?”

“Please behave yourself now while waiting for your mommy, or daddy, or… someone. Onee-chan needs to get back to cooking so that everyone can have a nice, yummy dinner. Maybe you could even join us. So, would it be fine for you to sit and wait for me? If you want to play, we can do so once I’ve finished this.” Satisfied with the nod she was given as a reply, Claudine patted the girl’s head once more for good measure. She then turned on the stove and continued her work, pouring in her oil and mixing in her ingredients.

A moment later, she realized that she needed a spice from the cupboard. Quickly going to fetch it, she was surprised as little Maya clung to her waist, arms wrapped around her, nuzzling into her stomach.

“Kuu-chan! Play with me!”

“Maya, now didn’t we agree that you would behave while I finished my task?”

The girl pouted, but released Claudine nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

And she was back to cooking. Cooking with a heavy pan reminded the French woman of how proud she was of her strength, tossing the mixture of ingredients inside with ease. For just a moment, she looked back to check on Maya, screaming horrified in just a second as she spotted the girl reaching for a knife, tiptoeing by the edge of counter, head not even reaching the height of the countertop. If she left this to go on, the knife could fall wrongly and hit her if she reached it. Claudine rushed forward, moving the sharp knife away, far out of the child’s reach.

Panting as she settled the girl back in her stool, fixing her with a very stern look that commanded, ‘stay’, Claudine got back to her food, hoping it wasn’t burning or anything. “Is this what it feels like to be a mother? To have kids?” She groaned.

Hearing shuffling come from behind her, she whipped her head about, catching the guilty look flash across the child’s face as she attempted to climb off the stool again.

“Please stay, okay? I’ll play with you all you want after.” She sighed, once more, placing the girl on the stool. “I know you’re bored, but I really cannot leave you to wander about on your own without supervision. You might get lost or hurt, and being the one to have been with you last, I really will be responsible. I’d like to actually ‘be responsible’. Please?”

The little girl pouted but nodded her understanding. Claudine felt relieved. Until-

“Kiss?”

“Wha-“

“If Kuu-chan gives a kiss, Maya will stay!” Blushing, but considering her options, Claudine relented.

“Fine.”

“Wai~!”

Finally feeling as though her struggle with childcare was over, Claudine finally got back to work, not hearing any noises that indicated trouble, breathing in her relief.

“Thank God.”

Finally finishing her first dish, she set it aside, turning to grab the ingredients for the second… dish…

Where was the child?

And who was this elderly woman now seated in her place?!

“My, my, ma Claudine, you look wonderful, cooking for me, shining in all your youth.”

She would have asked who the hell this lady was, but by the way she was addressed, she could only assume that it was, “M-Maya?”.

“Ah~ Has time frozen your beauty in place? Even the universe can’t help but admire such a flower, unwilling to let you go.” The lady lamented. “And yet here, I shrivel away, though not without all my passion blooming still in my heart.”

“You’re… Maya… right?”

“Who else would I be?”

And yes, who else would she be, Claudine agreed. Those stunning purple eyes, the particular shade of brown in the colored streaks of hair still present amongst the white, Yes. This was Tendou Maya, indeed

Honestly, Claudine surprised herself with how well she was taking all this. She would have spent more time wracking her brains over this crazy phenomenon, but then the clock caught her attention and made her realize that she had been in crazier situations than this. This should not be all that unbelievable. She had been through worse with Maya. So long as the girl still existed…

Claudine could prioritize finishing her dinner preparations.

Maya would surely turn back to normal soon.

Right?

Therefore…

“Maya. I implore you.”

“Ask anything, my love, and I shall-“

“Please behave yourself so I can finish what I have to and find everyone so we can figure out how to turn you back.”

“Of course, deary~.”

“I mean it.”

“…o-of course… dear.”

“Maya?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Claudine got started on her next dish, somehow thankful that Maya actually seemed to be cooperating. Was it her current age that made her less energetic? Maya was quiet, behaved. At least from what Claudine was hearing, which was nothing but silence, she hoped the silence meant Maya was just sitting, resting and not… dead or anything like that. Right? …right?!

Whipping her head about, Claudine caught the elderly woman walking about in some random direction, looking a bit older than she did earlier and… a whole lot blinder it seemed, as she hit her face against the wall.

What did I just say about behaving…

“Oi, grandma. I told you to stay put.” Claudine groaned in exasperation, moving to retrieve Maya. “Now I feel like those children or grandchildren made to take care of their elderly family.”

“Who… are you?”

“HA?”

“I’m starting to feel starved…”

“Don’t just go jumping from one topic to another, Tendou Maya…”

“What did you say?” So this granny was deaf too.

“Snacks, snacks… something soft enough for her teeth… I don’t want them to break…” Considerate as ever, Claudine started searching about for something to hand to this annoying woman. Spotting something on the counter, she picked it up, examining it for a second. “I guess tofu will have to do.”

With a spoon, she scooped up a portion and brought it to the old woman’s mouth. Upon feeling the familiar metal, her mouth opened, taking in the food. “Ara, Tofu~”

“Wow… that was fast. You knew right away.”

“It’s delicious.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“But it would be better with Soy Sauce.”

“You are insatiable…”

“Add soy sauce!”

“Grandma, you’re so noisy.”

And Claudine’s woes continued.

//-//-//-//-//

“So? Did you have any plans of revealing this to me? At any point in time?”

“Sorry… Kuro-chan. We thought you’d get angry…”

Seven people now sat in seiza in their living room, one of them being an adult Tendou Maya, it seemed, possibly in her late twenties. She had shifted through ages at least thrice since meeting up with Claudine. The rest of the girls had given up on searching after two hours or so, and upon hearing Maya’s familiar voice conversing with Claudine from the kitchen, they all bolted, panting as they stood before the pair, their demeanors giving everything away- that they had been aware of this from the start.

“I am angry.”

“Urgh…”

“And if I would’ve been angry anyway, then why didn’t you all just tell me from the start?” Claudine frowned even deeper, if that was possible. “I thought we were all comrades here, fighting together. Shouldn’t this be one of the things we try to figure out as a team?”

“We’re… sorry…” Guiltily, the rest of the stage girls hung their head in apology. It still wasn’t enough for Claudine, however. She wanted an explanation.

“Did no one think of telling me?” With everyone else avoiding her gaze, except Maya who looked strangely happy to be scolded, she turned to the only one standing, busy taking way too many photos of the girls. Why did Claudine feel stress build up y just looking at her? “Nana?”

“It seemed fun.”

“Nana/Nana-chan?!”

Of course, it was. Claudine sighed- before her stomach growled, leading her to blush a lovely shade of red. Eight heads turned to her, some amused, some sheepishly concerned.

“Ah, it’s already this late.” Junna exclaimed, the clock reading seven-pm-sharp.

“No wonder Kuro-chan got hungry~”

“W-W-Well, whatever. Let’s have dinner then sort this… thing out.” The French tried to cover up her embarrassment, walking over to the food she had prepared, getting ready to take it to the dorm’s veranda where tables had been set up earlier by Junna, Nana and Mahiru. They were planning to eat outside and see if they could enjoy some fireworks displays that were sure to come soon from neighboring areas, and could be seen from where they were. “We can’t solve Tendou Maya’s problem on empty stomachs.”

Laughing in relief, the girls soon got up one by one, helping out with the set-up, ready to at least enjoy the end of the year, regardless of how wacky it turned out to be.

//-//-//-//-//

After all the food had been consumed, and Maya had shifted through her age one more time, now taking the appearance of an eight-year-old child, with no leads, and darkness shrouding them, they decided to put off their investigation until tomorrow. It would be safer then too.

For now, they’d enjoy the end to their year as a group of comrades, friends, and family.

To everyone’s excitement, Kaoruko and Futaba had brought out two fairly large boxes, the ones they had fetched earlier from Kaoruko’s family. It seemed as though they were actually quite pleased to hear that their daughter had such wonderful friends who she actually wanted to spend a time as special as New Year’s with. In their happiness, they had bought her so many fireworks. Sparklers, little crackers, fountains, even the really beautiful ones that burst in the sky.

Nana, Junna, and Futaba took charge of setting those up safely in the yard, while Mahiru’s team fetched buckets of water for safety reasons.

As they played under the stars with their multi-colored lights flashing about, Claudine took the entire scene in before her. In spite of all the troubles, mishaps, fights, and trials they had gone through this past year, and even the years before in Seishou, Claudine would never trade the bonds of companionship she had built with her friends for anything in the world.

Running through their supply of fireworks, as well as energy, everyone proceeded to lay down on the blanketed lounge chairs that Nana had had the foresight of setting up, predicting that everyone would want to stay outside in each other’s presence for a little while longer while waiting for one grand fireworks show that had been advertised the past few days in the news.

They knew they’d be able to spot it from where they were in the yard, so they eagerly anticipated it, the television that had been turned on in the living room had some host of some show leading off a countdown.

“Kuu-chan?”

The little girl called for her attention, tugging at the hem of her sweater, those Violet eyes searching Claudine’s very soul. She hummed in response, petting the girl’s head lovingly.

“Still not going to give up on that nickname?”

“Will you stay with me forever?”

The sudden question and disregard of her playful comment had her surprised, but the contents of the question had her heart stop for just a second.

“W-will you leave me then?”

Her lack of response must have worried the girl. Had she been frozen for long?

“W-well, that is…” If she were talking to… her Maya- oh who was she kidding?! No matter the age or appearance or… whatever, this was for a fact her. Maya. Still. If this were the normal Maya, she would have responded differently. How should she tell this child the heartfelt truth while remaining in reality without crushing her hopes and dreams?

“Kuu-“

No, it was because it was her Maya regardless of the factors, that she could and would answer the way she believed was most fitting.

“Yes.”

“E-eh?” Maya looked like she would just cry right then and there. Claudine pinched her cheek lovingly before explaining.

“I cannot guarantee that I will always be by your side physically. There will be moments in life where we will have to be apart. And physical separation may be one way, but we aren’t perfect people, did you know that? Sometimes, our hearts may drift due to various circumstances.”

“I… I don’t like that…” Eight-year-old Maya sulked. Claudine laughed, before opening her hand palm up, asking the child to place hers in the larger hand.

“I know, I don’t either.” Claudine placed a chaste kiss on the back of Maya’s hand, successfully pulling a blush out of her. “And that’s exactly why I shall strive my hardest to stay. I will try my best to remain by your side for as long as I can.” She smiled that disarming, charming smile of hers. “After all, isn’t giving my all in everything I do my strongest point? And if there come times when I cannot be near you physically, then…”

“Claudine?” She’d be lying if hearing her name from Maya plain as that didn’t make her feel immense amounts of joy and satisfaction.

“I’ll just have to entrust you to keep my heart for me until I come to retrieve it. Oui?”

She watched the girl nod, no words coming out of her mouth. Could Claudine count this as a win against the insufferable woman? Maybe it wasn’t fair to battle it out against a child, though.

“How about we join the rest in the countdown?” Claudine asked, as she guided the girl to the many lawn chairs on the veranda, taking a seat on one and patting the space in front of her so that Maya could sit between her legs.

The little girl obliged, and they heard the TV slowly reaching the tens in the countdown.

[“Twelve, eleven… Ten…”]

“Nine.” Hikari murmured so soft with a smile, taking Mahiru and Karen’s hands as she stood between them.

“Eight~” Nana smiled, chancing a glance at a Junna sporting a rare child-like excitement.

“Seven.” Kaoruko whispered in a moment of seriousness, staring with great admiration at Futaba’s back that seemed so large, despite the girl in question being quite small.

“Six.” As if she felt that gaze, Futaba turned with back with a charming smile, something different, but so so warm in her eyes directed at Kaoruko.

“Five.” Mahiru murmured, looking to the two people she loved most in the world, surprised that they were already staring her way, telling her that they would always watch over her.

“Four!” Karen jumps excitedly, pulling Mahiru and Hikari into a tight hug, before kissing them both on the cheeks.

“Three…” Junna whispered, eyes sparkling, nothing else but the warmth of Nana’s hand keeping her rooted to the reality of the world as she felt herself hypnotized by the suddenly very silent and vast night sky, not a single firework present… yet.

“Two!” A small Maya in Claudine’s lap cheered, leaning back against the blonde woman’s front.

Claudine had hoped she could share this special moment with the one she cherished above all things. Well, she was, but… she didn’t think it would be… like this. Still. Maya was Maya, and Claudine would love her and stay with her for all time.

“One.”

The lights were splendid, brighter and more passionate than many of their stages. It ignited hope and starlight in the girls, and they watched on in awe, greetings of Happy New Year along with hugs and kisses being thrown around.

“Happy New Year, Ma Maya.” Claudine whispered, hugging the small bundle in front of her, wrapping her arms around the small Maya, heart just a little heavy. “I love you.”

In her silent pain, she had failed to take notice of the being in her arms taking on a glow, and slowly growing, transforming unnoticed by everyone entranced by the lights in the heavens.

“My, what a heartfelt confession. It certainly made my own heart flutter… Saijou-san.”

She could not lift her head up any faster, heart beating miles upon miles per hour, eyes wide as she drank in the familiar, but very missed sight of Maya. Tendou Maya. Her Maya… oh beautiful, lovely, sweet, incredibly infuriating Maya.

Standing up, turning around, and then getting down on one knee by Claudine’s side, Maya returned the gesture of placing her lips softly against Claudine’s fair hand, a confession slipping out so smoothly, so naturally from her lips.

“I love you with everything that I am, as well, Ma Claudine.”

…

Suddenly, Maya was looking very panicked, and Claudine would have asked why if the girl hadn’t reached forward, wiping every tear that slipped from her eyes.

“Did it move you that deeply, my darling Claudine?” She joked, though her anxiety was very clear in her voice. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to upset you. Please… please, if you feel hurt, tell me where and I’ll-“

Maya was very quickly squeezed into a breath-taking hug, Claudine staining Maya’s sweater in her relieved tears.

“You utter idiot! Do you know how worried I actually was if you wouldn’t turn back to normal?!”

“Well, you know how Cinderella’s little spell goes; as the clock strikes midnight, the magic wears off and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I understand.” Claudine rolled her eyes.

“Oh, but you don’t. Let me finish, my dear Claudine.” Maya grinned. “Once the magic wears off, all she is left with is a normal girl, in normal dress, with nothing but her bare and honest heart as the proof that she is the one the Prince fell in love with.”

Maya turned Claudine’s hand over, kissing her palm, then up to her wrist.

“Isn’t it the same for you, ma Claudine?”

“Y-you… I…”

“As Cinderella left her Prince for but a moment, they both strived to be together again, and to stay together forever. They made such a beautiful promise, as well. In the form of lifetime vows.” There was that familiar cheeky glint in Maya’s eyes, but Claudine couldn’t find it in her to be annoyed. “And you’ve given me your vow, so how about I give you mine?”

“What…”

“Saijou Claudine. I will forever devote my soul and my love to you. And I may not always be with you in body, and sometimes in mind… but my heart will always be yours.” She laughed, adding an afterthought. “And I might prefer it if you never returned it at all. I believe you are the safest person to keep it.”

“M-mechante va!”

“EEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!!” Karen’s screams cut through the air, and through their little moment. “It’s Tendou-san!!! She’s… She’s NORMAL!” She screamed, waving her hand, pointing a finger at Maya, directing everyone’s attention to the girl at the end of it.

“Tendo-san!!!”

“Heya, Maya-chan~! We were actually beginning to worry.”

“T-Tendou-san is… she’s okay now, right? She’s normal again, right?” Karen shifted her gaze around the circle of friends, seeking confirmation that her eyes were not playing tricks on her.

“I’m afraid I never have been, Aijo-san.”

“EH? O-oh no, is something still wrong?”

“On the contrary, everything is perfect! I am simply back to my usual amazing self.”

“…”

“And annoying self, it seems.” Claudine quipped with a faux disheartened sigh, shaking her head. “You really are the most infuriating woman in the world.”

“You love it.” Maya quickly replied.

“I do.” Claudine responded just as quick, so calmly, so naturally that it threw everyone, especially Maya off.

“I… I see.”

“What happened though? Why did that happen?” Junna, ever the curious mind, asked the important question.

Maya hummed, thinking for a moment, before smiling a mysterious smile.

“Let’s just say that’s the magic of a new year.”

With everyone sure that Maya was now okay and back to her usual self, they all began the clean up before splitting off into their respective rooms, saying their good nights and welcoming the much-needed respite.

Claudine had dragged Maya to her room, very deprived of Maya’s usual annoyingness and affection that she would never admit she wanted.

As they lay on her large bed, in their night gowns, warm under the covers and entangled in each other’s arms, Maya planting kisses on the crown of Claudine’s head, she heard the smallest whisper, almost missing it.

“…I missed you.”

The brunette smiled, pulling away for a moment, and reaching into the pocket of her nightgown, pulling out a small box.

“Claudine.”

“M-Maya?”

“We are but young souls who’ve had the pleasure of crossing one another’s paths, and a lifetime vow involving marriage, though I’d certainly want it now, is jumping the gun, even for someone like me, I suppose… but for now…” Opening the case, she revealed a heart, one side black, and the other white. Separating the pieces, she had both of them sit up on the bed, before she moved to sit behind Claudine, both of them conveniently facing the direction of the room’s large mirror.

Claudine watched as Maya’s hands moved to take the ivory piece, gently guiding the thin, golden chain of the necklace around Claudine’s neck and clicking it in place, before moving her hair to one side and kissing the bare part of the blonde’s shoulder.

She remained there for a moment, before trailing upwards, leaving small nips and kisses along Claudine’s shoulder and neck, nuzzling from time to time, taking in her lovely, flowery scent, thoroughly embarrassing the girl.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough!” Claudine screeched, moving away, grabbing at the case Maya had left on the bed and retrieving the ebony-colored half of the heart, transferring her seat behind Maya. “Your turn.”

“Of course.�� Maya chuckled, behaving herself for once. She stared at Claudine through the reflection on the mirror, smiling as she saw the blonde’s hands fumble momentarily with the jewelry, before shakily bringing it about her neck. “Nervous?”

“Shut up.”

“I love you.” Maya grinned at the sight of Claudine’s blush deepening as she snapped the ends of the chain together, before leaving a secret kiss in the top star’s hair. “I will gladly take that as an ‘I love you too’.

“Do you not know what it means to be quiet?”

“But of course, I do.”

“Then-“

“I just choose to annoy you instead.”

“You-you!!”

“I will marry you.”

Claudine choked.

Maya turned around to face the girl, taking two warm hands in hers, caressing them gently, each knuckle, both palms, each finger, lingering slightly on Claudine’s left ring finger.

“One day, I will. I swear.”

“…”

“So when that day comes, I won’t let you complain that you’re dealing with a difficult child, or a troublesome old lady.” Claudine rolled her eyes at that, smiling fondly. “But I welcome any and all complaints about me being an infuriating wife.”

“Oh my gosh…” Claudine laughed, but tears were already escaping those gorgeous rose-red eyes Maya fell in love with so deeply. “You are just… ugh… Mechante va!”

And despite her words, Claudine couldn’t help but draw Maya in, pressing her lips against that ridiculous grin; tenderness and intensity, a embracing warmth and scorching passion altogether found in one kiss. Love and irritation, relief and hope... a promise and a confirmation.

“Happy new year, ma Claudine. I love you.”

“I love you too. And a very happy one, indeed… ma Maya.”

[“And more happy years with you to come.”]

A/N: I’M DONE. I’M JUST. DONE. YES. THIS TOOK ME FOUR DAYS INSTEAD OF ONE BUT IDK IT SEEMS WORTH IT, MAYBE? PLEASE TELL ME. I’M DYING TO KNOW. COMMENT, KUDOS, REBLOG AO3 OR TUMBLR JUST- haha. Okay. I’m calm. Ahhh~ MayaKuro. I just read that doujin by Takano Saku yesterday. As well as reread the mangas of starira.

Anyway… Thank you again, and a happy new year to you all!

~Shintori Khazumi

27 notes · View notes

fortune-fool02 · 3 years

Text

(I saw all those adorable Merman!Santana asks and felt like writing something!) 🧜🏿‍♂️❤

Life for Y/N had been very different since that fateful night.

They had been living at their new home by the coast, with a beautiful view of the ocean, ever since they'd gotten their job as a lifeguard at the boardwalk beach below. It was a good life, they thought, as they prepared dinner in the kitchen.

They just never expected that said good life would end up involving a seven-foot merman living in their house.

As the scent of frying salmon wafted through the air they could already hear the sound of splashes and flops as Santana clumsily made his way to the kitchen from the backyard, which had a pool Santana stayed in every night. Y/N chuckled to themself, knowing that the scent of his favorite food was enough to bring the merman crawling over.

It wasn't long before Santana heaved himself into the kitchen, hauling his shiny vermillion tail behind him. Y/N had always been impressed by Santana's strength, with his toned body and muscular arms he was able to drag himself about on land with only moderate effort, and was surprisingly mobile despite his lack of legs. He was a fish out of water, literally, but he was eager to explore.

Pausing mid-crawl in the middle of the kitchen floor, the merman raised himself up on his hands as high as he could, eagerly sniffing the air as he flicked his tail, which trailed to an impressive length along the floor, behind him.

"You...have food?" he asked excitedly, in a deep, baritone, but surprisingly childlike voice. "Do we eat now?"

"No, not yet, Santana, this is for dinner," Y/N explained, flipping the salmon slice off the pan and onto a plate, which they covered on the table for later. "We eat later, together."

"Together." Santana repeated with a smile.

Y/N smiled back at the merman, but their grin quickly gave way to mild annoyance as they got a good, long look at the newcomer. He was covered almost all over with dirt, mud, and lawn clippings, all stuck to his moist, slippery body, which he had trailed all across the living room and into the kitchen.

"Alright, Santana, where have you been again?" they asked exasperatedly.

"I was in the garden. The garden is nice. The grass, the spraying water," explained the merman, trying to describe the lawn sprinkler. "The garden is very pretty."

"Yes, I understand, but please be mindful next time," said Y/N, fetching a mop. "When you crawl around on the ground you can get very dirty, and then you get the floor dirty too when you crawl on the floor. Since you have to crawl on land it's easy for you to get dirty quickly."

The merman looked puzzled. "Crawl? What is your meaning by crawl?"

"It's the way you move around when you're not in water," explained Y/N. They were often reminded each time they spoke to Santana that he was not yet very well-versed in understanding the English language. He was still learning, much like a child.

"So crawl... is swimming on land?" Santana tried to rationalize. He pointed over to Y/N as they walked across the living room to mop up Santana's muddy trail. "So you...also crawl in land?"

"No, I don't crawl," laughed Y/N as they cleaned up the floor. "I walk. I use my legs to walk on land."

"But I have no legs," replied Santana, even more puzzled than before. "So I walk but I have no legs which you use for walk?"

"No, you crawl, I walk, because you have no legs and I have legs," Y/N tried to explain. "I use my legs to move on land, you use your arms to move on land", they patiently said to the bewildered merman as they wrung up the mop and placed in in the bathroom.

"I...do not see the difference," concluded Santana after pondering for a while. "We are both land swimming and is same thing? You swim faster than me on land with legs."

"Never mind that," Y/N laughed, amused at Santana's concept of 'land-swimming'. "Come on, get into the bathroom, we gotta get you all cleaned up."

"Give bath?" Santana eagerly exclaimed, planting his hands on the floor with a loud, wet slap and hurriedly began to wriggle his way toward the bathroom, as quickly as he could. Santana loved baths, which Y/N thought was to be expected given that he was an aquatic creature who preferred, and needed, to be wet.

Y/N opened the bathroom door as Santana happily slithered his way inside, gripping onto the edge of the bathtub with both hands and using his powerful arm muscles to lift himself into the tub, thrusting himself into it with a mighty push of his tail against the floor. He squirmed about in the tub, which was a little small to fit his entire massive frame, until he managed to get into a comfortable posture onto his back with his tail hanging out one side.

Santana sighed in enjoyment as Y/N turned on the shower, taking much pleasure from the feeling of the warm water on his skin and scales. He grumbled a bit as Y/N began scrubbing him down with a sponge and shampooing his hair, cleansing off all the mud and grime stuck to his body and to his lovely scarlet locks.

A small object soon caught Santana's attention. "What is this?" Santana asked, reaching for a bar of soap that was placed on a holder. He sniffed it tentatively. "It smells very good."

"That's soap, Santana," Y/N explained. "It's something we use to clean ourselves to-- SANTANA NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

The merman looked up at them innocently, casually chewing while foamy bubbles gathered around his mouth. The bar of soap was still in his hand...or half of it, anyway.

Santana spat out in disgust. "This does not taste very good."

"Because you're not supposed to eat it," Y/N gently scolded. "Soap is not food. You wash with it and it's not meant to be eaten."

"Soap is not food," Santana repeated glumly, tossing the half-eaten bar of soap away.

Y/N sighed as they scrubbed out the last of the mud from Santana's hair. Sometimes living with the merman required a lot of patience and was a bit like babysitting a toddler. A giant, muscular, centuries-old toddler, with a fish tail from the waist down instead of legs.

Once Santana was all cleaned up Y/N called him over to dinner and waited for him to reach the dining room. Santana was fairly slow on land, an understandable issue given that dry land wasn't really his natural environment anyway, and Y/N often had to wait quite a bit for him to make his way about.

Soon Santana came, hauling his heavy body across the smooth tiled floor and leaving a wet trail in his wake. At least it was a clean trail this time, and Y/N had just learned to make do with wet floors and slip-proof bathroom slippers, as their new houseguest couldn't exactly dry himself off.

"And now we have dinner," Y/N said cheerfully, causing the merman to perk up in attention. Y/N uncovered the dish and began to set the table, while Santana tried to lift himself up from where he lay on the floor to try and get a good look at the meal on the table. Y/N had prepared a small slice of salmon for themself, and a bigger cut, three times as big, for the massive merman, whom they knew had an equally enormous appetite.

"Alright, dinner is served," Y/N said. "Let me help you get up on this chair," they told Santana, who earnestly grabbed onto one of the chairs and tried to lift himself up onto it while Y/N tried their best to support and help lift his body up onto the seat, though he was very heavy and caused both of them quite a struggle.

It wasn't very easy to sit in a chair when your lower half was a slippery, scaly tail, but with some adjustment and balance Santana managed to keep his posture at the dinner table, where, with his tail hidden beneath the table, just made him look like a strange, red-haird bodybuilder who never heard about wearing a shirt as proper manners.

Not that Santana knew much about manners, anyway, as he eagerly grabbed his share of the salmon fillet with his bare hands and eagerly bit chunks out of it with his pointed teeth while he clutched his meal with both hands. He ate messily, ignoring the spoon and fork placed neatly on the table, and tore off a chunk from the meal and held it out toward Y/N invitingly.

"Here, have food," he said with his mouth full. "Very good."

"No thanks," declined Y/N, "I've got my share right here", they added, gesturing to their plate.

"Okay. This is mine then," shrugged Santana, putting the small piece into his mouth.

Life for Y/N had been very different ever since they first rescued the stranded merman on the beach. Having a very unusual housemate was certainly one bizarre experience, especially one who had no clue how the land world worked and was eager to learn more.

And as Y/N watched in amusement at Santana ravenously chowing down on his meal like a messy preschooler, they knew that their unlikely guest still had plenty more to learn.

•••••••••••

***

THIS IS AMAZING!! I absolutely love this! Thank you so much for writing it!

#merman santana #merman au #mer pillarmen #submission

24 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy, fluff, slow burn, smut, pining, unrequited love.

rating. ... 18+

word count. ~4000

chapter 9.

FLASHBACK September 1, 2018

"Just post it," you're chiding, indignant and exasperated and still, so incredibly soft. You're prone against his shoulder, bone of your chin digging into the muscle that lines his back and undulates with every breath. He moves forward, not to dislodge you from your position, but enough to shift the sharp turn of your jaw. You say nothing further and settle into the warmth that radiates off him, nose lost to the hood of his sweatshirt.

The mouse sits heavy in his palm, an anchor rather than 67 grams of nothingness. There's too much power in the little black device. It makes his jaw ache and his brow furrow. You can feel the uncertainty radiating off him in waves, invading your senses in an unwelcome assault.

"Kook, come on." Again, softer this time, laced with tenderness and belief. It spills off your lips, buttery and sweet like carnival kettle corn. Your arms find a home around the slant of his frame, fingers locking neatly over his chest, right where his heart lies beneath flesh and bone. The steady thud of it is a reminder of his humanity. "You've worked so hard for this."

This, being his portfolio. His life's work made reality, brushed with the most utmost care and so much talent you're not sure where it all goes.

Gouache portraits, vivid blues and greens splashed over cream; wondrous proportions laid out bare, rendered to perfection with a keen eye and careful hand. Production of stories you'd never be able to express, painted with the most glorious skill and cut to maximize impact. Melodies woven in between and above; the sweetest sound you'd ever hear, awash with the light and shadow.

His finger hovers over the button on his mouse as if it's a Doomsday device. You want to scoff but bite it back, pressing your face into the freshly-washed powder puff that is his hair. It smells of peaches and honey, mingling with the distinctly Jungkook scent that lingers on his skin.

"I can't do it." He whispers the words like they're shameful, yanking his hand away and stuffing his hand into the kangaroo pouch bundled around his waist. You sigh. It's quiet but with your close proximity, he hears it and it's an echo that repeats over and over in his ears. Eyes squeeze shut, dent forming between his brows as he exhales a shallow breath. "I heard that."

"You were meant to," you return easily. Because while you'd always be in his corner, supporting him when he needed it most, you also weren't about to let him rest on his laurels.

Before he can stop it, you've got the mouse in your hand. Click - like it's the easiest motion in the world.

"Did you just—" You're retreating as soon as he's speaking, skittering back five steps and out of reach when he whirls around in his stupid red and black gaming chair. The fury is immediately apparent in the baring of his teeth, the tension in his jaw. It propels him forward and he's so much taller, his strides so much longer, that he's upon you in a second.

"You needed a push!" It's a meagre excuse, squeaked out in indignation as you anticipate death by asphyxiation.

Instead, he's crushing you against him so tightly you really do feel like you can't breathe, though it’s different. Still, it's better than what you'd anticipated and you pat his back where you can reach, arms locked to your side by the intensity of his hug. You think he might squeeze the life out of you but you don't move to untangle yourself from him, instead mumbling soft reassurances against his chest. "There, there."

"Thank you." It's so hushed you think he might've meant it only for his ears, but you feel the way the words ghost over the shell of your own. It sends a shock straight to your toes, rousing an adoring smile along the way.

"You're welcome," you hum in a voice thick with satisfaction. You loved being right. It didn't happen often - at least, not with Jungkook - so you revelled in it at every opportunity, allowing your ego to triple in size and engulf everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Not one to let his defeat go so easily, he huffs. The way he rolls his eyes makes you worry he'll sever an optic nerve. "Still a brat, though."

"Yeah, well—" You're returning his childish petulance tenfold, tongue sticking out from between lips that taste like too-sweet plum wine and Sprite. "—takes one to know one." And boy, did you know one. Had, for the better part of three years. Sometimes you loved it; sometimes, you didn't quite hate it. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The boy snorts from above you, withdrawing just enough that you can breathe and wiggle your arms. He really was a muscle pig - your shoulders thrum with a dull ache. "Shut up."

"Don't think I will," you answer, watching the way his eyes glint and his jaw ticks. He tongues the inside of his cheek as he glares down at you, silent. You know what that means. You brace for the feeling, feet planting into the hardwood like you're an oak taking up root. It's futile.

In a second, you're upside down, suspended over his shoulder like a toddler. Well, not a toddler, because that would be incredibly bad parenting. It's something funnier - a six year old playing airplane. Except you're in your twenties and you've got much longer limbs than a child and they flail wildly, elbow knocking into the back of his head with a painful sounding thud.

"Watch it!" He exclaims, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. He doesn't sound too bothered, though, the words dropping off into a laugh that bounces around the room and pitches higher. "I wouldn't want to drop my precious cargo."

It's a threat that has you stilling, if only for a minute. The last thing you want is to have your face make friends with the floor. That'd happened once - on concrete, even - and you'd felt awful for days after. Of course, he'd felt terrible, too, leaving an enormous fruit tart from Maybell Bakery outside your dorm the next day.

"Go ahead. I've been craving some fresh bread."

"That was one time."

You can tell you've struck a nerve by the way he tenses beneath you, forearm flexing over the small of your back. You can't help but snicker, swatting his sweatpant-covered ass just enough to jostle him.

"I was kidding, Mr. Sensitive."

He doesn't dignify that with an answer, instead shifting into action. His bare feet carry him in a tight circle before he deposits you onto his bed and not a minute too soon. You'd started to feel a strain in your neck, blood rushing to your head the longer you were hung like a rag doll.

"You're a pain in my ass sometimes." Though the words are unkind, his delivery is not. There's far too much tenderness in his eyes, the way they crease and nearly disappear when he offers you one of his trademark bunny smiles.

You return the expression with ease, wiggling your thin, piano-honed fingers at him. "Literally."

"Yeah, literally." With another exaggerated roll of his eyes, he flops face-down on the bed beside you, arms curling around a pillow and dragging it under his cheek. His knees hang off the edge before he's dragging one up, locking it over your legs in some contortionist cuddle. He peeks at you from beneath his fringe - it's just the right side of too long, curling prettily over his doe eyes and obscuring his eyebrows. Despite the eye contact you carefully maintain, he says nothing, merely peering up at you like he's trying to read his future or see the stars.

Finally, you speak, turning your gaze back to his popcorn ceiling as your hands find comfort in the weight of his leg, the tendons flexing in the joint of his knee. Your neck was beginning to kink. "What?"

"Thank you, again." Because once isn't enough. Never will be, when it comes to the two of you. You've always pushed him to do what he needed, even when he wasn't so sure himself. He can't thank you enough for that - or for the fact that you're always there, right at the edge with him.

You smile then and meet his stare again. "You're welcome, Kook. Happy birthday."

"What is this?"

You're half-asleep and groggy, struggling to push past the awful clutches of Sandman and his dreams. They linger in every crevice, coating your lashes in dust and your tongue in cotton. Luckily, there's no ache behind the fatigue, no lurking monkey about to crash its cymbals in defiance of you and God.

Through the frame of lethargy, you make out the familiar slope of shoulders, of a delicate pair of hands. Past that comes his adorable smile, all squishable cheeks and barely there eyes, mouth contorted into that peculiar shape. He's not where he should be - in bed beside you, fast asleep. Instead, he's statuesque, barely dressed in a pair of soft cotton shorts and nothing else with your breakfast tray held aloft. There's a pile of waffles - they look surprisingly good - and two mugs. Somehow, there's also an assortment of flowers thrown into what looks like a water glass.

Had you died and gone to heaven? Surely not.

"Happy birthday," your - yes, your, you remind yourself - golden Adonis sings in a voice so rich, so tender, you immediately feel a lump forming in your throat. He's looking at you like a kid on Christmas morning,0 hopeful and filled with childish wonderment. It stokes the warmth that spreads through your veins, lava in place of platelets. It burns from the inside out but it's pleasant - sitting too close to a fireplace on a chilly winter evening rather than an open flame.

Nails bite into the fleshy underside of your palm in a belated attempt to rouse yourself from the very pleasant daydream. It stings but nothing comes further. You're not imagining things.

You have to applaud your past self for whatever she'd done to deserve this.

"You really didn't have to." A moment after it slips off your tongue, you wish it hadn't. The last thing you want to seem is ungrateful. Luckily, Taehyung is steadfast and unbothered, dropping forward onto a knee to slide the tray over your clean white linens. He looks so good, all honey skin and tousled bedhead, that you can't focus when he catches your lips in a lingering kiss.

His laughter crowds your mouth, along with the taste of peppermint toothpaste and, just behind it, honey and what tastes like tea, floral and earthy. "I wanted to."

A sound most similar to a sigh - maybe a bit needier, filled with adoration - meets the air when he withdraws, settling himself on the edge of the bed with that same heartbreaking grin. He pushes your birthday breakfast toward you, earnest and lovely. He even unceremoniously shoves your utensils between your fingers, forcing them into your grip like a toddler.

"Eat," he commands, though his tone is too light to really elicit any movement from you. It's only the way he looks that prompts you to dig in, cutting a generation portion of waffle loaded with what looks like whipped cream and strawberries. You raise your fork aloft, gesturing for him to take the first taste. He simply shakes his head and with gentle pressure, redirects the forkful back to you. His loss.

The strawberries are surprisingly sweet yet incredibly tart, their freshness breaking up the honey glaze. The fact that you haven't even brushed your teeth isn't lost on you; you can't bring yourself to care when you're melting into the flavours and humming delightedly.

"Is it good?"

"If you'd just try some, you'd know." You answer with hearts in your eyes and affection blooming like roses across your cheeks, sparkling shades of warmth springing across fields of baby's breath. Another forkful is raised and this time you won't allow him to redirect, holding the mouthful aloft and meeting his stare with purpose.

A moment passes, then another. The edge of his mouth ticks higher. Your eyes burn from your refusal to blink.

When he accepts the bite, you allow an exaggerated breath, the sound expelling from pursed lips with triumph. "Yum?" You question, giddy and grateful. You sneak another bite while he chews, tongue feathering across his bottom lip to catch some residual cream from the corner.

"I did good." He sounds so proud, chest puffed like a baby bird that's learnt to fly. You're torn between the intense desire to squish his cheeks or kiss him silly and you stare at him for a long moment as you swallow, the intoxicating flavour of honey and strawberries sitting like a spring picnic on your tongue. It sinks into the spaces between your teeth - a shot of loved-up sugar right into the veins - and you set your fork down.

Free hands find the slope of his jaw and act as a cradle, thumbs smoothing over the soft dry petal of his bottom lip. He peers at you curiously, strands of silk brushing over his gaze as he works to meet your stare.

"What?"

You want to pass all of your affection into the smile you offer and the kiss you press, chaste and light. "Thank you." The emotion in your voice rings true, echoes heavily in the breath you pair it with. "You really, really didn't have to." But I'm really glad you did, are the words you don't say, allowing them to hang between you like a gossamer thin thread - a spider's web interconnecting all the different ways you adore him.

"I know," he hums as he moves in for another kiss - one that lingers and pulls and draws you deeper into the abyss that is him. Careful hands slide the breakfast tray to the farthest corner of the bed, far away from wandering limbs, and then he's dragging you closer, over the soft white duvet. Fingers find a home in the small of your back as you find the same nearly in his lap, knees caught against the line of his side. Like this, he envelopes you, all sharply angled shoulders and imposing, but you don't mind. It feels nice being wrapped in his embrace.

FLASHBACK April 24, 2019

You need to get this done. You can't stop until you've finished because you've been losing steam the entire week and now you're running on fumes, halfway to the finish line and about to collapse. The strain behind your eyes feels miserable, like hot coals have replaced your usual organs, and you've nearly chewed a hole through your bottom lip. It feels like a punishment in and of itself to feel the constant throb and the metallic tang on your tongue.

Why did you always do this? You'd had all semester to work on this and yet, here you were, stark raving mad and exhausted on a random Friday.

No, Saturday now. It was almost five in the morning.

Frustration colours your complexion, marks the tired skin in patchy shades of red, and you blow a sharp breath out under your breath. You know you have no one to blame but yourself but you try to ignore the guilt that licks up the column of your spine and settles like a heavy collar around your neck. You can't linger on it too much - you're too busy trying to hack this artist's block to dust.

Lids squeeze shut of their own accord and the heels of your palms dig into the sockets, as if that'll help drive the emptiness from your thoughts or, at the very least, alleviate some of the mind-numbing pressure that's been building since you started this futile task six hours ago. The consistent press helps a little - draws blossoms of light against the back of your eyelids - and you exhale a beleaguered sigh, head dropping ever so slightly. Between the headache that's settled in like an unwelcome house guest and the general tiredness of being up for nearly twenty-four hours straight, you're not sure which is worse.

You also don't have much time to think about it when your phone starts going off, vibrating madly across the flat top of your desk. It's face-down - you'd wanted as few distractions as possible - and you consider ignoring it for a moment.

Only when you consider the time do you decide to answer it. After all, nobody just called at this hour. It might be important.

You hardly hazard a glance at the screen before you're swiping across, dimly noting the familiar silly photo of your classmate and friend plastered across the pixels. "What's up, Jeon?" The words come out scratchy and for the first time, you realize how parched you are. You're not quite sure when you'd last drank or stood up or anything. God, you were a poor excuse for an adult.

"Open the door."

It's equal parts impressive and irritating how chipper he somehow sounds, as if he's just woken up from the best sleep in the world and powered his way through a strongman's breakfast. Chapped lips twist, descending into a pout you know he can't see, and you force yourself to focus on what he's said and not how you'd give anything in the world to trade places with him and his sunny disposition.

Wait— what? Open the what?

"What did you say?"

You can practically imagine the lines at his nose and around his eyes, the dimples that you're sure are carved into those cheeks of his. "I said open the door!"

Before you can think anything of it, you're rising from your chair - nearly knocking over your neglected glass of water with the movement - and allowing your slipper-wearing feet to carry you out of your bedroom and to the front door. You bump into the table in your hallway, earning a grunt and sharp inhale of breath as your fingers soothe what you know will be a bruise in the morning. Maybe you should've turned on the light. Maybe you should've stopped at the washroom to make sure didn't frighten him with your insane hair and sleepless pallor. Maybe you should've done a lot of things.

Instead, you slide the lock, open the door, and nearly shriek when Jungkook’s upon you faster than you can react.

"Happy birthday!" A single solid arm is crushing you to his chest, his breath warm against your temple, before he engulfs you fully. You feel your feet leave the ground momentarily, fuzzy slippers clattering to the floor as he squeezes you with just enough force to steal your breath away. It might be why you're not reciprocating - you physically cannot - or it’s the fact that your brain is playing catch-up and your limbs are already a little boneless from lack of sleep.

"What are you doing here?" You manage to squeak against the smooth fabric of his jacket. It's the same one he always wears - black with Yohji Yamamoto embossed across the left-side of his chest - and it smells intoxicating, a familiar blend of his cologne and laundry detergent. You inhale the scent like it'll sooth your half-asleep, ragged nerves. It does, a little, and you're grateful for that. You don't even pull away when he finally releases you, stepping back just enough to let you slide back into your slippers and peer up into his face.

He really had no business looking so good. Despite the early hour, his dark hair is neatly styled or at the very least, freshly washed. It's fully dry and surprisingly fluffy, falling over those big doe eyes in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. It's a little longer than usual, too, and you reach a hand out to smooth strands behind a silver-adorned ear.

"It's your birthday," comes his response, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

A brow quirks - tries to, at least - and you regard him with something not quite suspicious but definitely confused. It plays across your features in shadows, peeking around the fan of your lashes and the frame of your mouth. "It's also... four in the morning."

"Five, actually." There's that stupid adorable smile of his, presented like a gift and topped with squeaky laughter. "And I told you I was coming over."

"No, you didn't." You'd have remembered that - right?

"I did." As if to drive his point home, the glaringly bright screen of his phone is all but shoved into your line of sight, artificial light burning your retinas. You shift away, swatting at his wrist as he watches in barely concealed amusement. He thinks you're frustrated by his very 'I told you so' smile that fits snug over his mouth and wrinkles the delicate skin around his eyes; he's surprised when you take the device back in your hands and peer at it like it's the strangest thing you've ever seen.

Well, he certainly hadn't lied. A handful of texts - maybe more than that - mock you, text bubbles indicating he had indeed sent you messages all throughout the night. Little one-liners asking what you were doing, followed by a gentle head's up much later that he'd see you soon. Of course, you'd ignored them all, far too engrossed in making near zero progress on your semester-end project. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth - equal parts tentative embarrassment and residual fatigue. Lips purse, straighten into a firm line, and arms fold over your chest. It's reminiscent of a spoiled child and frankly, beneath the burnout, you know it's not a good look. Unfortunately, you can’t find it in yourself to rearrange your expression into something more socially acceptable.

Luckily, he's seen you like this enough times to not mind - you always fell into ruts like this when your procrastination met a hard deadline - the irritation seemingly unable to penetrate the sunny turn of his mouth and slope of his wide, open shoulders. "So, are you ready?"

"Ready for..." You trail off, partially out of confusion and partially out of a lack of capacity to consider the question.

"We're going on an adventure."

Again, so simple and yet so cryptic. It draws your eyebrows into a little knot, consternation setting into every thread. "I have a project to do, you know." Despite this, there's a pearl of longing that dangles from your syllables.

He zeroes in on it without hesitation, drawing you easily against him. "I'll help you with it later," he says, as if that's a good enough excuse. You suppose it is. "In the meantime, go get ready? You look like you have a rat living in your hair and I don't want you getting mistaken for a homeless vagrant on the train." Despite the mockery, his expression is soft, smile sweet and playful as it always is.

It's impossible to deny him when he's like this, cherubic and enticing.

With a sigh that blows past chapped lips and disappears into his chest, you relent. "Fine." You're careful to keep your tone just a little grating, as if you're somehow doing him the huge favour. You know he can see right through it but neither of you mind; it's all a part of your silly routine. "Come in and wait for me and don't eat my cereal."

"No promises."

notes. here, take my weird birthday-centric chapter. i wanted to add more to this but my brain hasn’t been cooperating with me lately.

i swear the next chapter will be better - with more exploration of the present! - but thanks for reading. :)

62 notes · View notes

tzipporahssong · 4 years

Note

Did you ever feel like you were simply “too stupid” to convert? I’ve really been worrying and stressing about that

Yes and no. It was really easy sometimes to get overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of what there was to learn. I got frustrated when Hebrew wasn’t immediately easy to learn (comparing myself to my partner who has literally spoken it since preschool). I’d get mad at myself when books sat unread during particularly busy school times. I’d get flustered and embarrassed when my rabbi or my partner quizzed me on something and I got it wrong. All of those things made me fret. I’ve always been anxious in academic contexts and this felt like the test of my life. But it was really important to take a step back and remember:

Judaism is not a one and done, study everything and know it forever thing. It’s a lifetime of learning. It’s a lifetime of questioning. It’s a lifetime of debate and discussion and learning the nuances. It’s about realizing that you’re never going to know everything, so you might as well jump in with both feet. Though you’ll never know all of the steps, you must learn to join the dance.

Also poetics aside, I assume if you’re writing this ask you’re smarter than newborn babies born Jewish and toddler-aged children who convert when their parents do, so I think you’re all set on that front. 😉

#asks #anon #jew by choice #judaism #jumblr #Anonymous

16 notes · View notes

gallagherwitt · 4 years

Text

Hey, writer folks, let's talk editing for a minute.

Lately I've seen some posts by a number of writers concerned about the editing process. In particular, what happens when your editor starts trampling your voice? Or when they start changing things that are clearly a matter of taste, not structural or grammatical issues? Or when their comments are rude or condescending? Or when you don't even recognize your own book anymore, and not in a good way?

Basically, what happens when you get your manuscript back from your editor, and you get that sick feeling in your stomach like "This is ruined"?

First, right off the bat, without even getting into whether the editor is right or wrong, it's a perfectly natural and acceptable reaction when you have some hardcore edits that involve massive revisions. This is especially true early in your career, but trust me, it doesn't magically go away. It's tough on the ego to see that manuscript you worked so hard on come back slathered in red. It's demoralizing. And it's okay if you feel that way!

You know what I do when I get a set of edits? I go through it one time and let my inner toddler go nuts. I mentally flail and push back and holler and roll my eyes and "oh my GOD that is BULLSHIT" and I eat a cookie. Then I put the manuscript aside. The next day, I take a deep breath and go through it again, and more often than not -- especially now that I'm mostly indie and I hire editors who I mesh with -- the comments and changes aren't so bad after all. So I 100% give you permission to do that if getting it out of your system helps.

THAT BEING SAID.

The inner toddler isn't always wrong. When I read through it the second time, if my eyebrows keep climbing until they touch my hairline, it's possible that something is amiss here besides my ego needing a nap.

So what happens when you and your editor disagree? How do you know if the problem is the editor or the manuscript? And how do you handle it? Well, that can be tough, and the answer usually comes down to communication.

But let me say this upfront: it's not just you. After 11 years in print, I'm creeping up on 200 titles in my catalogue. I have, shall we say, extensive experience with editors, and it hasn't always been good.

With one publisher, I had to hire a copy editor on my own to go through and undo all the errors *their* copy editor inserted, not to mention fix all the ones they'd missed. That's a pretty objective problem. If your editor is missing mistakes or ADDING mistakes, then you need a new editor. Period. Do NOT be afraid to go to your senior editor (or your agent), tell them what the problem is, and request someone new. If the problem isn't resolved or you're told "this editor does a perfectly good job," then consider that a sign that you and the publisher have differing standards on quality. You might have to grit your teeth through the process on your currently contracted book(s) (that's why I hired an outside editor for mine), but consider not submitting to that publisher in the future. If you're an indie author who hired your own editor, you can fortunately choose not to use them again.

Sometimes it's a personality clash or a difference in taste or style. Maybe the editor's method of communicating rubs you the wrong way. I had an editor who thought that since I'm fairly sarcastic with a dry sense of humor most of the time, that would be an effective way of communicating via comments in a manuscript.

Spoiler: it was not. I have a thick skin when it comes to writing, but if I feel like my editor is making fun of me, talking down to me, or yelling at me, I shut down. I can't work like that. Solution: ask the editor to do things differently or ask for another editor. DO NOT grin and bear it if your editor is communicating in a way that's hurtful or counterproductive. You're equal partners here, and you have a right to be treated with respect. It's okay to say so if you feel that's not happening.

I also had an editor who did line edits by making the change they wanted to see rather than putting in a comment about how and why they thought it should change. I really liked that because in comparing my original to the tracked change, I could see what they were getting at, and even if I didn't accept their change in its entirety, it was a good way to communicate the issue to me. For us, it worked really well.

But that approach had the opposite effect on another author, who felt like the editor was stomping on their voice and just changing things willy nilly. Neither of us was wrong, it was just different people responding to different means of communication. In that instance, simply approach the editor, explain why you would prefer they made comments instead of changes, and see what happens. If they're willing to do so, great! If not, you and the editor might not be compatible. That doesn't make you a diva or them a bad editor, it just means you're not a good match. That's okay!

Also, if they've made a suggestion or recommended a change, and you disagree with it or don't understand it, sometimes just typing out your concerns in an email or a reply to their comment can resolve it. I can't tell you how many times I've been in the middle of explaining to an editor why I wanted to keep something the way it was, and I talked myself right into a solution to their comment that I was happy with. The solution wasn't always what they'd initially recommended, but the result was that the problem they'd pointed out was fixed.

Which is another thing to keep in mind: if your editor suggests you do X to fix a problem, but you don't like X, think about WHY they want you to do it. What is X fixing? One of my editors told me "There isn't enough tension in this scene, so I recommend cutting it by 10% to tighten it up." I tried. Lord, I tried. But there was no way I could cut anything without losing vital information. So I revisited the comment. The problem wasn't that it needed to lose 10%. The problem was there wasn't enough tension. In the end, I ratcheted up the tension....by *adding* 10%.

So sometimes it's just a matter of stepping back and asking yourself, is this editor stomping all over your voice and tearing apart your work in a way you disagree with? Or is it a difference in communication style? Are they trying to hijack my book? Or does their suggestion illustrate a problem which I can fix in a way that is more satisfying to me and more in line with my story?

Also, a lot of writers have come of age hearing that you toe the line and do what your editor tells you to, or else you'll get blacklisted for being difficult. And to some extent, sure, you CAN cultivate a reputation for being an unreasonable diva, but there is an enormous gap between diva status and being a professional asking to be treated accordingly. If you feel your editor is being rude or they're hurting your story, say so. If you think there's a lapse in communication somewhere, say so.

If you don't understand something, ask. When my current editor makes suggestions for significant changes, it's not unusual at all for me to email her first and say "I'm thinking of doing X, Y, and Z to fix A, B, and C. What do you think?" Or "You suggested A, B, and C, but I think if I do X, Y, and Z it'll work better because... What do you think?" And we'll go back and forth a little before I ever touch the manuscript. It works beautifully, and I'm always confident going into the edits that I understand what the issues are and how to fix them. You're not alone when you're editing! Your editor is there to help you and to work with you, and if they won't do that, they're not doing their job!

Seeing a pattern here? Communication is crucial. If you aren't comfortable with something, or you don't understand something, or the way the editor is communicating isn't working for you, it's okay to speak up. It goes without saying that you need to be professional about it, but don't buy into the idea that for authors, "being professional" means gritting your teeth and taking whatever your editor shells out.

And yes, if you absolutely cannot work with an editor -- if just thinking about looking at that manuscript spikes your anxiety like a tornado siren just went off because the comments are rude, the changes are uncalled for, or something is just OFF -- it is acceptable to say "This author-editor relationship isn't working for me."

Yes, you can break up with your editor.

Obviously that's easiest for indie authors. We just...don't hire that editor again. With publishers, it's a little more complicated, but it CAN be done!

In just over a decade, there has been one occasion where I stopped midway through the edits, emailed the senior editor, and said "I'm not working with this person anymore. I want a new editor." This came after a round of edits left me so emotionally wrung out and beaten down that I was literally in tears over it, and if you know me, you know that says A LOT. The first draft of my email basically said "You know what? This book is obviously garbage. Let's just cancel it." I felt that bad about the whole thing. But after talking to some industry friends, I pulled myself together, realized the book was not the problem, and I sent a firmly-worded but still professional email to my senior editor.

You know what happened? I got a new editor. We scrapped the existing edits, started over, and it was like night and day. The edits were still intense, but they were reasonable, and instead of feeling like I was being told to nuke the book from orbit and start over, I felt like I was course correcting. In the end, readers loved the book, and I continued working with that editor for a long time because we meshed so flawlessly.

If you find yourself in a situation like this, and you're not sure if it's just you, run it by some trusted writer buddies. Ask some long-published veteran authors. It's okay to say "Something about this doesn't feel right -- what do you think?"

Don't suffer in silence! Get feedback from a third party. Talk to your editor. Talk to your senior editor or your agent if you have them. It could be just a simple miscommunication. It could be that you and this editor aren't compatible. But if no one knows you're struggling, they can't help.

And honestly, if there's one thing I've learned in working with literally dozens of editors over the years, it's that most of them genuinely do want you to succeed, and they want you to be happy with your book. If they do, they'll also meet you in the middle and try to make the whole process work for both of you. If they don't, well, then that's somebody you probably don't want to work with again if you can help it.

To recap:

Talk to your editor if you have concerns or if something isn't working.

Talk to your senior editor or agent (if you have them) if you think a new editor would be the best solution.

If you're truly unhappy with an editor, you might be stuck with them for the duration of one book or series, depending on your contract, but beyond contractual obligations, it's okay to choose not to work with them again. (And if it's really not a good situation, push for a different editor.)

If an author and editor disagree, the author is not wrong by default. Neither is the editor.

Communicate, communicate, communicate.

Remember that you are colleagues, and you should expect to be treated accordingly.

Sometimes calmly explaining to your editor why you disagree with or don't understand their comment can lead your thought process right to the solution.

It's YOUR book. In the end, YOU should be happy with it. Your editor should be on your side.

You are not obligated to correct a problem in the manner your editor suggested. Most problems have multiple possible solutions!

It's totally okay to email your editor and ask for clarification, bounce ideas off them for solutions, etc.

So go forth and bravely tackle those edits, but communicate like whoa and trust your gut if something doesn't feel right!

#writing #amwriting #editing #editor #authors #Author #writer #writerlife

18 notes · View notes

pulpwriterx · 3 years

Text

A SHEEP AS BLACK AS MIDNIGHT IN SPACE

It is a dark time for the Galaxy. General Enric Pryde and Supreme Leader Snoke have unleashed a reign of terror, dealing the New Republic a terrible blow with the Hosnian Cataclysm. But all is not lost. General Organa has discovered a New Hope from the desert of Jakku, who will become the Last Jedi. After Rey, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Poe Dameron and Finn, the former FN2187 undertook a daring raid that led to the destruction of Starkiller Base, Rey has gone to Ahch-To, to study under the reclusive Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. And he will tell her a secret. There is another.

I: THERE IS ANOTHER.

Luke Skywalker sighed, heavily.

“Master Luke, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I destroyed my own family, Rey. And the Galaxy is paying the price. Did you ever wonder why Han and Leia don’t live together? Why I’m in exile, here? There is another. Or at least, there was. My nephew. My paduan. The best and worst student at the Jedi Temple. Ben Solo.”

“Ben Solo! Didn’t he die at the Jedi Temple?”

“In a way, he did. He doesn’t use that name, anymore.”

“Then he’s alive? Do you know what happened to him?”

“A great many things. First? There were his mother's expectations. She had his whole life planned out. His Royal Highness, Prince Benjamin Skywalker Organa-Solo. He was going to be the perfect Jedi, the perfect young leader, the perfect fair-haired son of the New Republic. He wasn’t supposed to be a giant behemoth of a man, who was too much like his father and his grandfather to fit in any mold. Han and I pretty much figured that Big Ben was going his own way by the time he was six. His hair was down to his waist, and he’d scream and break the scissors with the Force if you came near him to cut his hair. He wouldn’t wear clothes. Just a pair of underwear, if you took him out. He wanted to be a Wookiee. He wouldn’t speak Basic. Just Shriiyywook. We worked it out. But Ben never really changed.”

Luke sighed.

“As he grew to manhood, I started seeing my nephew as a monster. His obsession with his own duality, and that of his grandfather. His heretical leanings toward the Grey Path. And his vows? Forget vows. Not my nephew, the king of taboo. Jedi are supposed to take vows of chastity, and honesty. To have control over their emotions. Ben sold cigarillos, wine, and rubbers from his father’s smuggling operation out of my father’s TIE Fighter, his personal vehicle. He lost his virginity when he was 14 to his best friend, Talia who was 13. As usual? Han was the best worst father, ever. He took her to get an implant, and kept Ben supplied with rubbers. Which he needed, because any of my female students who were curious about their resident Rebel Angel? Let’s just say, Ben never failed to satisfy their curiosity. He didn’t listen to me when I tried to stop him. He really thought he meant something to these girls. After all, they meant something to him. It took Talia telling him she was going to rent him by the hour out of her Wookiee foster father’s garage in Mos Eisley, because he laid more pipe to more satisfied customers than any spaceport gigolo. I mean, how do you teach a six and a half foot tall Force of nature who has been using the Force since he was a toddler in a crib to open the cupboard and get the cookies?”

“He likes cookies?”

“Ben? He eats like a Wookiee. Literally. Chewie taught him to cook.”

“But he likes cookies?”

“Eats them by the box."

Master Luke laughed.

“Now I see that all of it was so very minor. I used to get so angry with him about the TIE Fighter, and the smuggling, and Talia, and the other girls. He didn’t trust me to tell me how the Dark Side, how Snoke was stalking him. It had been a terrible day, for Ben. I disciplined his little group of girls, and all four of them blamed everything on him. Not Talia, though. She spoke up for Ben. But the other three girls? They didn’t take his side. They gave him up. He sat in his hut and cried, all day. He really cared. He did. The poor kid cried himself to sleep. I went to check on him, that night and I felt the Dark Side all around him. While he was sleeping. I thought he had given himself over to it. I attacked. I almost cut off his head, but Ben defended himself. He blocked my lightsaber with his and punched me in the face as hard as he could. If I wasn’t a Jedi Master who can anticipate my opponent's movements. It would have broken my neck. But he didn't mean to kill me. Ben was just scared. As it was, I was unconscious until the morning. By then? It was all over."

Rey couldn’t believe the enormity of the act that he had just admitted to.

Trying to murder his own paduan, his own nephew!

“What happened to your nephew after he brought the building down on you? Did he join the Dark Side.”

“No. He packed up his gear and walked ten miles to the spaceport, and made it there by morning. He left Yavin 4 on a Mandalorian freighter with a business associate of his father’s, Din Saxon, under an assumed name that he had identity papers for. Now he’s partners with Rotta the Hutt, Jabba’s son, Din Saxon, the Mandalorian, and Han Solo. They revived the old Galactic Black Market, and now there’s a war on, not only are they making a fortune? They’re the only game in town for a lot of little things that people find it hard to live without. They do sell arms and coaxium to both sides, but they only sell the low-grade junk to the First Order and at three times the price they sell to the Resistance. I hear that Ben’s doing well. He hasn’t realized his ambition to meet the girl the Force has bound him to, but he still has his friend, Talia. I trained her as a Jedi Healer, and she's since gone to the Republic Medical School. She's Ben's personal doctor. As reckless as he is? He needs to travel with a farkling doctor. Pardon my language. The point is, my nephew renounced the Jedi and the Sith, the Dark and the Light, that day. He wants no part of it. He follows the Grey Path. As it was laid out by Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He also wants no part of this war. His name is Ben Solo, but the name he does business under, the name you’ll have heard of is his alias. Kylo Skywalker. The Arkanian.”

“Ben Solo is Kylo Skywalker, the Arkanian?”

“Yes. And he and Han are looking to add a good scavenger to their operation, because Kylo just bought the salvage rights to the site of the Battle of Yavin-4. And he’s the new owner of the ruins of the Second Death Star. You were the best scavenger at Niima Outpost. I’m sure you're the woman for the job.”

***

Kylo Skywalker was truly a man larger than life.

He wore a black oilskin duster, caped and hooded, festooned with grommets, pockets, and epaulets over a black pair of pilot’s coveralls, tucked into tall black jackboots.

He also wore a huge pair of brown leather and Beskar chrome goggles, with shatterproof mirrored lenses.

And he was the tallest, burliest man that Rey had ever seen.

He sat down across from her at the table she had picked out at the Niima Cantina.

The man had a quiet air of undeniable menace about him.

It put Rey on edge.

“You should try to hide that you have that much strength in the Force. The Sith are real, and the First Order take who they want.”

“Not if I work for you, Jedi Temple dropout, right?"

“I picked a good time to leave. I hear you're the best scavenger at Niima Outpost.”

“I am. Can you take those goggles off? I feel like I’m talking to a man with no eyes.”

He lowered his hood, and took off the goggles.

Time stopped.

And it wasn’t just because Kylo Skywalker the man had grown up to be a black swan with dark, saturnine good looks out of the ugly duckling of a boy that Master Luke had described to her.

It was because Rey was fairly sure it was him.

The man with whom she had shared a bond in the Force, for as long as she could remember.

She never knew his face, or his name, but now that she saw him, she somehow recognized him.

“It’s OK. I feel it, too. The Force brings people together for all kinds of reasons. Look at it this way? Now you’re sure to get the job. You’re hired, Rey…”

Rey shrugged.

“Just Rey. My parents left me when I was a little girl. I never got a last name. I don’t have identity papers, either.”

“That’s OK. I can get you some, if you need them.”

The doors opened.

Rey was excited to see Han and Chewie, again.

Kylo laughed.

He had a beautiful smile.

“My father. And my godfather. But you knew that, because my Uncle sent you here to recruit me. But I get the feeling you might decide to stick with me and the Old Man, instead. Keep that quiet, though.”

Han and Chewbacca sat down.

“She really is a scavenger. A friend of Poe’s. He got her into this mess. I got her out of it. So, you hired her, right, junior?”

“I hired her.”

“How you been, princess? You don’t look so good.” Han asked.

“You can tell us. I used to be you, after all. The Galaxy’s only hope.” Kylo joked.

“It was awful, mostly. Really awful. Master Luke was nothing like I thought he would be. Sometimes, he was very kind. But sad. As if he forgot that he was supposed to be terrible. But some of the things he taught me just confused me. Or scared me. I’m afraid of myself, now. What I might do.” Rey admitted.

“Forget it. Forget everything he taught you. It’s meaningless. The Force has no Dark Side, and no light. That dualistic nerfshit thinking? People made that up. As an excuse to control each other. And make war. You shouldn’t be afraid of what you’ll do, like it’s not up to you. You make your own destiny, Rey. Look at me. I made mine. I’m no Jedi. And I’m no Sith. There is another way. The Grey Path. I can teach it to you, if you want. Think it over. But as for all that poison Uncle Luke poured into your ears? Look what it did to him. Forget it.” Kylo advised her.

“Sounds like Luke is in bad shape, junior.” Han mentioned.

Casually.

“When Rey reports back to him? We’ll send him some supplies.” Kylo said.

“Rey, do you really want to be a Jedi?” Han asked her.

Nobody had asked her that, yet.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, try working with us for awhile. If you don’t want to go back? I won’t send you. I learned my lesson on that. With junior, here. Even after that Snoke bastard burned the Temple, Luke tried to get me to send my kid back to him, one more time. I said no. Since then, I get to visit my wife, but we don’t live together. And the kid and her aren’t on good terms. But Ben’s alive, and doing good, and the Sith and the First Order didn’t get him. It’s worth it. Don’t go back if you don’t want to. Let ‘em have their farkling war, without you. Fuck ‘m.” Han told her.

Kylo raised his pitcher.

“Dark side? Light side? Fuck it. My side.” He said.

He motioned to the Rodian barman.

“Rey works for me and Solo, now. If there’s trouble with her? You’ve got trouble with all of us.”

“I never had trouble with Rey. You made a good choice, Rey. These guys are the real deal. Order what you want, kiddo. The Arkanian has deep pockets. The deepest in the Galaxy.”

Rey was very hungry.

She ordered a lot of food, and a cheap half bottle of red wine.

“Don’t bring her the cheap stuff.” Kylo told the Rodian.

“Why are you so rich, Kylo?” Rey asked.

“He gets dressed up like another Darth Vader. Red lightsaber and all. And we raid First Order ships with full cargo holds. Or Crimson Dawn freighters. Sometimes First Order warehouses and depots. All he has to do is show up and…say it, Vader junior. Say your thing.” Han suggested.

“I am Kylo Skywalker, Lord Vader. All of this belongs to me. Surrender to me all that I ask for. Or you will die. Quickly! I find your lack of haste disturbing.”

Rey shivered.

But, much to her shame, not entirely in fear.

“That’s why I call him junior. Because I ain’t calling him Kylo. I didn’t name him Kylo. You should see these assholes give up. They usually just kneel and grovel. Sometimes, we have to get tough? But most of the time? It’s all money, it’s all for the taking, and it’s all ours.” Han explained.

“I also liberate Stormtroopers. Snoke takes them from their families, when they are children. And he brainwashed, humiliates, tortures, and enslaves them. The First Order takes their faces and their names, and makes them kill. For Snoke. It’s what he did to me. It’s what he meant for me. I didn’t deserve to live that way. No one does.” Kylo added.

“What happens to them?”

“If they have a home to go to? I help them return to it. Or find a job. Some of them work for me. They are my people, I am their Chieftain. No one else cares about them. Not my mother. Not the Resistance. Not the New Republic. I care.” Kylo told her.

Rey nodded.

The idea that Darth Vader’s grandson, the Galaxy’s only Grey Jedi Master, a ruthless pirate with unlimited money, was the self-styled Arkanian-style Clan Chieftain of a small army of loyalists with military training was a little unsettling.

And that’s why the General wants him. She wants not just her son, but his people, and the influence he has over not just them, but potentially the First Order.

When Rey thought that, Kylo turned to her.

“The Old Man and I are dangerous, ruthless men. But compared to my mother? We’re baby Ewoks.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Han agreed.

And just like that, Rey was working for the Outer Rim Cartel.

Her food and wine showed up.

“So, junior, I talked to the guy? The guy about identity papers for Rey. You object to her being a Solo?”

Kylo smiled at Rey in a way that let her know she wasn’t the only one thinking what she was thinking.

“As long as she isn’t supposed to be my sister? It’s fine by me.” Kylo replied.

"Nah. It says I'm her legal guardian until she's 21. So, that way, nobody can steal you, from me, Rey. I also put you down as Junior's common law wife. Then, after you're 21? Nobody can steal you from him. Considering the way you two keep looking at each other? I figure you don't mind."

"So, this is my wedding night?" Kylo asked

"Watch it, kid. They're just papers. It's not like I bought her from Unkar Plutt and I'm giving her to you."

"Yes, Kylo. This is our wedding night." Rey told him.

Chewbacca made a comment.

"It was not fast, Chewie. Rey is her. The girl of Ben's dreams. It's the Thunderbolt. Didn't you know, when you first met Mala, that she was the one for you?"

Chewie said something about how he wasn't talking about that kind of knowing.

"Yeah, well, it's none of our business. They're probably just kidding around. Come on, old pal. Let's not be the extra dicks at the wedding."

Han got up.

Chewie said something, sternly, to Ben that Rey didn't understand, and Ben replied earnestly.

Rey decided she was going to have to learn better Shriyyywook.

After Han and Chewie left, Ben opened the bottle of wine.

"Since we've suddenly found ourselves married? I should make you some kind of vow. Think about the loneliness you felt on this desert, Rey. The longing for someone, something to come for you. Think about it, and let it go. Because you'll never be that alone, again." He told her.

"You have nothing to worry about, Ben. You're every bit as strong as Darth Vader. And just as much a man as Han Solo. You may think you're the ugly duckling. But you've transformed into a beautiful black swan. What happens, now?"

"We'll eat our dinner, and drink this bottle of vintage Corellian red. And then? We'll start doing whatever the fuck we want. And we'll keep doing whatever the fuck we want, until death comes for us. And the son of a bitch is going to have to sneak up on me."

Kylo poured two glasses of wine.

Rey began to think this might really be where she was meant to be, after all.

Happy fanfiction day!

#reylo #ben solo lives #ben solo smuggler #reylo au #reylo romance #tros fix it #han solo lives #rey x kylo ren #reylo fanfic

3 notes · View notes

chibimyumi · 4 years

Text

Furutod vs Sebastyun

Dear @gisellehexen89,

First of all, I am very happy you seem to be enjoying my blog! And thank you for the interesting ask.

I think the best way to find out what ‘Elisabeth’ is is to read up on it, or watch it yourself; it is impossible to explain everything in a post. After having learned what the musical is about, and you’re interested in how TOHO staged it in 2019, I recommend reading my full art reports:【ACT 1】 and 【ACT 2】. These two reports also show my general thoughts on Sissi (^ω^)

Now instead, I shall dedicate this post to making a comparison between Furutod and Sebastyun.

Furutod vs Sebastyun

When Furukawa’s role as Der Tod was initially announced, most people believed he would be very similar to Sebastian. It is an easy trap: both characters are non-human, have very little scruples, are fiercely attractive, and the theme of obsession is omnipresent.

But honestly, that’s it. That’s all the similarities these two share.

1. Status

The biggest difference between Furutod and Sebastyun is their status. Furutod is the Lord of the Underworld (黄泉の帝王), and absolute authority over life and death of all that is alive. Sebastian meanwhile, is bound to servitude who cannot even wield full autonomy of his own. Needless to say, their difference in power status decides everything in their respective behaviours.

1.1. Sebastian

Let us look at Sebastyun first. All three Kuromyus from the Furukawa era show very clearly that Sebastian is very limited in many fields, but the difference between the ‘mask of the butler’ vs ‘the raving demon’ is clearest in ‘Tango on the Campania’.

In the scene with Edward, we see the boy pulling rank on ‘a mere butler’. Edward was basically threatening O!Ciel using Sebastian, while hiding behind the face of ‘a loving brother’. There was nothing Sebastian could do as a mere servant, so he very explicitly checks first whether Edward had left, before he could show his true reaction: “whatever.”

In the cinematic record too, Sebastyun clearly disagreed with what his master demanded of him, and he only showed his BIG ATTITUDE after the boy had left.

Likewise, as explained in this post, because Sebastian is always bound to servitude, his autonomy (or whatever little he has) is something he treasures a lot. His only outlet of freedom is being pedantic and obtuse. Sebastyun takes it a step further by being passive-aggressive on top, a trait Furukawa has made his Sebastian famous for.

Obviously Sebastyun sees fun in doing so, but this is undeniably the result of a long history of getting his autonomy denied. He is the servant in the shadows who needs to wield power within other people’s boundaries.

1.2. Der Tod

As I mentioned above, Der Tod is the Lord of the Underworld, and as Furukawa himself interprets, represents the authority over both life and death. He never has to ask for a ‘yes’, other people’s consent or opinions are non-consequential to him. He takes lives because he can, and nobody can punish him for it.

Being an existence who never needs to learn accepting a ‘no’, he does not need to put up a face, because he never needs to make compromises. Der Tod is SO used to getting his way, that teasing the possibility of ‘not getting his way’ is even a game to him.

1.3. Comparison

Sure, Sebastian also teases and pushes his limits sometimes, but unlike Der Tod, Sebastian does have to consider having to reap what he sows. If Sebastian fails and breaks his contract, surely something terrible awaits him. But Der Tod? Nah... his Death Angels will clean up his mess.

Der Tod can afford to make mistakes in playing with his prey, unlike Sebastian. In The Last Dance↑, we see Furutod make the biggest miscalculation; scaring Elisabeth. Had he not scared her, then Elisabeth might have been quicker in agreeing to die for him.

Unlike Der Tod who has minions to clean up his mess, Sebastyun does need to make careful calculations.

2. Understanding and Interest

Another major difference between Der Tod and Sebastian is their understanding of and interest in human beings.

2.1. Sebastian

The thing Sebastian keeps saying is how interesting humans are; Sebastyun is the scientist always hungry for more knowledge, and humans fascinate him to no end. In ‘Tango on the Campania’ even with debilitating pain, he was smiling with the excitement at human behaviour.

He also makes use of whatever knowledge he has acquired throughout his centuries on earth to get what he wants or needs. Like I said above, at some point in history Sebastyun learned that fear would cause a human to shut down, so he was careful in not scaring Beast, lest she might not open up to him.

Had Sebas been a bit of a dumb-dumb and scared Beast the way he did in the manga, or the way Der Tod scared Elisabeth, then he would have failed his mission logically speaking.

2.2 Der Tod

Der Tod in contrast, always gets his way, so he does not need to understand humans to achieve anything. But more importantly, he is superbly uninterested in understanding humans. The only reason he shows interest in humans is for himself; he wants to bend humans to flatter his own ego. “If Elisabeth finally begs to die, then I AM the victor. If Rudolf commits suicide, then I manipulated him.” Der Tod’s satisfaction is the goal of his actions.

As such, when Rudolf ‘HAD THE AUDACITY to bore LORD DEATH’, he bitchslapped him before taking his life. When in the end Furutod did get Elisabeth, but not in a satisfactory way that assured his baby ego that he’s the winner, he was disappointed and lost all vitality.

To Sebastyun however, the satisfaction is a bonus: it’s nice to have, but it’s more important to get a job done.

3. Mannerism

Another point of difference is their mannerisms. Sebastian is a mere servant, and therefore needs to keep to the shadows. He usually tries (though fails) to adhere to the Victorian code of ‘servants should be like furniture, speak only when spoken to’. (In truth, Sebastian talks way too much for a proper Victorian servant, but he tries! He tries. Give the butler some cookies for trying.)

Der Tod meanwhile, is the supreme overlord of all and everything, so he does not need to care about anything. Plus, he can turn invisible as he likes. Unlike Sebastyun who needs to suppress his laughter or any other commentaries, Furutod can get away with laughing like a f*cking hyena on crack during an Imperial wedding.

4. Ego

Lastly, another stark difference between Sebastian and Der Tod is their ego and their presentation of themselves.

4.1. Sebastian

In this post I explained how Sebastian is very willing to humble himself, to come in second place, or take whatever disadvantage voluntarily for the sake of achieving something he wants or needs to.

This is because Sebastian is very secure about himself, and the recognition of humans (cattle) means nothing to him. He does not need anybody to know how powerful he is, instead he takes greater pleasure in silently manipulating others, using humans’ own actions against themselves.

Yes, Sebastian does love to flex, but he does not do any of those things to increase his reputation. We can tell from Sebastian never lingering to check people’s oohs and aahs. It’s like how when we impress a toddler with something easy, we usually won’t indulge in the kid’s praise because we don’t feel an increase of social regard. Instead, the fact that the toddler is impressed with something so easy is more interesting to us.

Sebastian’s flexing seems more like an outlet because O!Ciel forbade him from showing his true potential, and it is frustrating to him. It is just like how we as (young) adults we are capable of understanding deep analyses, but get constantly told to read picture books, on top of also having be content with hearing: “how amazing, you can read a picture book! You are astonishing!!😱”

4.2. Der Tod

If Der Tod was not explicitly ‘death’ personified, I would say that Furutod is ‘huge ego and diva complex’ personified.

Despite being a more elevated being than Sebastian (the scavenger demon) is as Lord of the Underworld, Furutod does like being praised. Der Tod is and will always be above human beings, and that is as boring a fact as water being wet. As I explained in Art report act 1, Furutod suffers from ‘lethal apathy’, and in this sense he needs more than to know ‘that mortals are beneath him, that water is wet’. Furutod wants to know that the mortals fear him, and gets a kink out of mortals being on their knees for him. Der Tod is not just ‘death’, he is the personification of ‘human regard of death’; and the fear of death, is what unifies human kind, after all.

Another point in stark contrast with Sebastian is that Furutod does have kin near him: the Death Angels. The regard of mortals is nice, but he also likes keeping his minions impressed, because his kin’s reverence also means something to him. It is almost like Furutod wants to justify why he should be superiour to the Death Angels (even though his position is never challenged). He just gets a REALLY big kink out of praise, okay? ( ´艸｀)

Furutod’s enormous ego also shows itself in his diva-ness. When he is courting Elisabeth for example, he is basically behaving like a peacock. He takes Elisabeth’s hand and runs it through his silver hair, his ivory silken skin. “Look at me, feel me, human, I am SO drop dead gorgeous.”

Furutod also can’t handle being lower than anyone; whenever he has the chance he will literally place himself on higher footing.

Contrast this to Sebastyun who is always very willing to put himself lower than others. This ⇊ would be UNTHINKABLE for Furutod.

5. Conclusion

In conclusion, besides the ‘non-human character in a dark theme’ aspect, Sebastyun and Furutod really don‘t have anything in common.

5.1. Sebastian

The fact that Sebastyun is always bound to servitude whenever he is on Earth, and his lack of autonomy, shape his behaviour. His reputation on Earth has no meaning to him; Sebastyun is confident about what kind of Demon he is, and the opinions of ‘cattle’ are therefore insignificant to him. The only thing one must not challenge is whatever little autonomy he has left, and he will test and find the upper limit to wield it.

5.2. Der Tod

Furutod in contrast, only knows what it is like to be the most superiour being and never getting his authority challenged. He never had to learn to make compromises, nor does he ever have to deal with consequences. As such he is really a foot-stamping-toddler (Foot-stamping Der Toddler? Sorry.) with a toxic superiority complex and too much power.

Furutod’s supremacy is mind-numbingly boring to him, but there is no way to achieve something grander than what is already grandest. He is trapped in his own mind of toxic superiority and boredom, and will live the rest of eternity searching for entertainment. (It is kind of sad if you think about it......wait, I’m feeling bad for Der Tod? Hmm Furukawa, you really did add a whole new page to the history of ‘Elisabeth - das Musical’)

In short: where Furutod is eternally bored and has no prospect of getting sustainable entertainment, Sebastyun will always have something interesting he might run into.

#Furukawa Yuta #Yun #Yunbastian #Sebastyun #Furutod #Yuntod #Elisabeth #musical #Sissi #TOHO #Character analysis #Comparative analysis #Comparison #Kuromyu #Tango on the Campania #Noah's Ark Circus #The lycoris that blazes the earth #Dayum I feel a bit sad for Der Tod now XD wtf?

55 notes · View notes

cavesalamander · 3 years

Text

My brief thoughts on this season of anime!

Just a quick review of the ones I’d recommend and/or keep watching. I managed to find all of the below on Funimation or Crunchyroll or Youtube!

Horymia: (Yes) This is looking to be a very funny romcom slice of life style anime, and seems to be a fairly good one! Had me laughing a lot. The Main couple are a nerdy quiet boy who’s actually dumb as a sack of bricks using his disheveled appearance to hide his tattoos and piercings, and a popular pretty girl who’s actually a total homebody. Their friends seem to have a lot of potential to be fleshed out as the series progresses and I look forward to seeing how it goes!

So I’m a Spider, So What?: (Yes) Whooo another isekai (excited)! This time a girl and her entire class!? Get isekai’d in a massive explosion. The main character reincarnates as a trash monster in a dungeon and must fight her way up the food chain just to survive. Meanwhile her friends who have mostly reincarnated as Cool Humans or the occasional elf or baby dragon, have mostly found each other, and want to figure out what happened/why and if they’re all okay. It’s genuinely pretty funny, though leans a little too hard sometimes on the gamey aspects of this new world. I think it may get darker as it goes along too.

Mushoku Tensei: (No) Whooo another isekai (derogatory). 34 yo old man gets reincarnated and uses his worldly experience to Learn Magic Fast and creep on his mom and prepubescent tutor. If you can stomach that stuff, it actually has a fair amount of potential? It did set itself up to touch on some interesting stuff down the road, but I’m kind of Over the horny toddler/young boy trope and it kinda just seems like the protagonist is Just Awesome At Everything but not in a remotely charming way.

Cells at Work Code Black: (Yes) If you liked Cells at Work, this is that but dingier, and is able to tackle some darker themes - like what stress, smoking, drinking, and probably eventually STDs can do to your body.

Kemono Jihen: (Yes) I don’t wanna explain TOO much about the plot of this one because it looks to be a mystery series, and the first episode sets it up the characters very very well. A man from the city is called to a rural town where animals are being mysteriously killed and found rotting. He’s tasked with finding and killing the perpetrator, assumed to be a monster of some kind. It does the horror very well, and even in the first episode manages some twistyness.

The Hidden Dungeon Only I Can Enter: (No) Even for a blatant fan service anime this one is just......... stupid. It might have a scrap of joy to it if the protagonist were anything other than a boring sycophant. His harem just all seems to be random girls who’s singular personality traits are to be in love with him in various stereotypical ways, that he just uses to min max his Cool Stats. But like, it’s not even self aware enough to make that into an interesting premise.

Sk8: (Yes) It’s a racing anime that seems super stylish and fun and very well animated. The protagonists have some cool chemistry already, and it really leans into the Underground Illegal Racing part of the fun - all the various characters who battle in death defying races through this abandoned mine, all have seemingly ordinary day jobs. Definitely worth a shot if that sounds up your alley.

Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies moved to a starter town?: (Probably) Okay so the premise is just there in the title and is actually pretty fun. Think: a random NPC who is considered pretty weak where the monsters are lv 50 moving somewhere where the monsters are scary at lv 5, shenanigans ensue. The MC boy is hilariously oblivious to the fact that anyone with a shred of sense can see he’s insanely over leveled to the area, and just trying to be nice and polite to everyone ^u^. The tentative nature of my recommendation is that it is kind of leaning harder on the Girls are Obsessed With Him train than is ideal. How much it depends on that as opposed to utilizing the premise to its fullest extent will have an enormous bearing on how fun the show is to watch going forward.

Ex-Arm: (Absolutely not but yes) It’s a fucking train wreck.

Heavens Design Team: (Yes) God decided to outsource creating animals to a team of angels, and works as a client giving weird ass requests for the angels to fill. Hilarity ensues, and it is peak edutainment to boot. It’s so much fun learning weird shit about animals, or trying to guess the animal these seemingly random train of failed attempts leads to.

Dr. Ramune -Mysterious Disease Specialist-: (No) It has a promising premise and some good moments. The main characters are solving these weird “diseases” that people get by finding the actual emotional cause and using magic of some kind to monkey paw it into a resolution. This could be really fun and interesting, but something about the execution just... falls flat? Like maybe it picks up as the season goes on but for now it’s not rly worth it.

Vlad Love: (Yes) I was going through the list of anime this season and was like wtf is this and literally just now watched episode 1. It’s about a girl with a blood donation kink and her vampire girlfriend. Literally. It’s rly funny and over the top ridiculous but like, gay vampires.

Back Arrow: (No) It’s like... fine. It’s about these two warring kingdoms surrounded by a wall with a mountain range between. They worship the wall as god, and occasionally get gifts from beyond it, in the form of mech suits they use to fight each other in. One day a boy shows up from beyond the wall in one of those suits and no memories of anything and he wants to get back. Which... could be promising I guess? But something about the show just didn’t grab my attention.

Skate-Leading Stars: (No) It’s like Yuri on ice if it was less gay and less well written I guess...? The first episode set up the Drama competently enough, but I just... couldn’t give a shit.

Project Scard: (No) For some reason part of Tokyo has been turned into a post apocalyptic hellscape where people just murder each other. They also have super powered tattoos and use them to fight each other. Animation is very similar to Handshakers - which is an Aesthetic that may not appeal to some. The first episode didn’t rly do much for me but I could see it going somewhere if it tries.

Wave!!: (No) Might have been a tentative yes if I hadn’t gone on and watched the second episode. First ep went hard with the queerbaiting cause they want to be the new Free! but with surfing, but Ep 2 just forgot all about that entirely. Dialogue is mostly boring and there’s like 3 sets, which becomes painfully obvious very quickly by ep 2.

Idoly Pride: (No) Literally looks like they ripped off the waifus of a bunch of other more popular anime and made an idol anime with the most basic ass idol plot. Nothing exceptional here.

Gekidol: (undecided) It’s an idol anime... set after a mysterious apocalyptic event? It’s mostly so far seemed intriguing as hell but not my jam. Mysterious craters destroyed parts of Japan, and its rebuilding and the MCs wanna bring light to the world. Maybe aliens exist? Idk! I’m intrigued.

I*Chu: (No) Another idol anime but this time it’s cute boys! Idk maybe this is a decent idol anime but it rly didn’t grab me and idol stuff isn’t usually my jam. I couldn’t tell anything exceptionally unique about this one from just the first episode.

WIXOSS Diva: (No, but) I don’t normally watch spin-offs of series but I didn’t realize until halfway into this that it was one cause Crunchyroll didn’t attach it to the core line. It’s like... magical girl battle idols in VR! Which honestly if you’re a fan of that it might actually be worth checking out.(edited)

Idolls!: (No) Another idol anime! But this one uses mocap 3d models. Phoned in plot line delivered by a weird tiki statue that tells the girls what to do. Seems extraordinarily low budget, and more just a way to sell music. The whole episode happened in a single set and was basically just... girls want to make it big as idols... oh no... gotta book a stage! Yay they got one! Now must get an audience! Like... ok

Hortensia Saga: (No but) Sword and sorcery fantasy setting that’s mostly sword, main character is a princess masquerading as a male knight alongside the son of her dead parents’s also dead bodyguard. The first episode is very lore heavy and felt kinda like the prologue to a video game. So it ended up feeling a little expository and trope laden, but it has potential. Seems a bit Game of Thronesy? Wasn’t like... bad or anything, so if it’s your thing you might enjoy it.

Otherside Picnic: (Yes) I think it’s gay first of all, two girls going exploring / treasure hunting / monster hunting in a bizarre mirror world to their own. Girls are cute, it’s very interesting premise and writing seems solid.

Wonder Egg Priority: (Yes) It deals with some HEAVY themes? But it’s... a bit of a psychological horror but in a way that feels very like it’s dealing with some of the real life issues. The main character girl comes across as neurodivergent, and it’s just... idk man the first episode was good and left me wanting more.

#Winter 2021 anime #Its of course flavored by my personal preferences but idc

1 note · View note

unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

Photo

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Fifteen → in which Lilac and Fiona are Gay as Hell

It wasn’t until after they finished their chowder, and Phil left to clean the dishes, that Klaus asked, “Captain Widdershins? VFD stands for Volunteer Fire Department, right?”

“Aye!”

“Then why are you underwater?”

Nick, who was helping Fiona and Solitude clean up the tidal charts, said, “Because they’re not a literal fire department, more of a figurative one.”

“Aye!” Widdershins nodded, not noticing Nick’s disdainful tone. “I’m told it started that way, but the volunteers were interested in every such thing! I was one of the first to sign up for Voluntary Fish Domestication. That was one of the missions of Anwhistle Aquatics. Aye! I spent four long years training salmon to swim upstream and search for forest fires. That was when you were very young, Fiona, but your brother worked right alongside me. You should have seen him sneaking extra worms to his favorites! Aye! The program was a modest success! Aye! But then Cafe Salmonella came along, and took our entire fleet away. The Snicket siblings fought as best they could! But as the poet wrote, ‘too many waiters turn out to be traitors.’”

“I am so lost.” Violet admitted.

“The Snicket siblings?” Klaus asked. “Like Jacques?”

“Aye! Jacques was once a member of our crew! He-”

“We think we found a message directed to him.” Lilac said. “That’s how we found out there was a gathering, it was Verbal Fridge Dialogue, addressed to JS.”

“That’s impossible! Aye!” Widdershins waved his hand. “Jacques Snicket is dead! Aye! Nobody would address a message to a dead person!”

“Perhaps the sender didn’t know.” Violet said.

“Or perhaps it was some other JS.” Solitude said.

“Speaking of mysterious initials,” Klaus said, “I wonder what GG stands for. If we knew what the cave was called, we might have a better idea of our journey.”

“Aye!” Captain Widdershins said. “Let’s guess!”

“Aye, let’s not.” Nick said.

Fiona frowned as she pushed the tidal charts into a drawer. “Wait a minute.” she said. “I may have an idea.”

“Really?” Lilac asked, watching her as she ran to a cabinet.

“I just remembered a recent addition to my mycological library.” Fiona said, opening a door and pulling out a book. “This might be useful.”

The captain sighed. “You and your mushrooms and molds!”

“Let her speak.” Lilac snapped, shooting him a glare. “She has an idea.”

“It was in the table of contents.” Fiona said, bringing the book back over to the table, as the Baudelaires peered over her shoulder. “Chapter Thirty-Six, The Yeast of Beasts. Chapter Thirty-Seven, Morel Behavior in a Free Society. Chapter Thirty-Eight, Fungible Mold, Moldable Fungi. Chapter Thirty-Nine, Visitable Fungal Ditches. Chapter Forty, The Gorgonian Grotto- there!”

“Grotto?” Sunny asked.

“Another word for cave.” Violet said.

Fiona flipped to Chapter Forty, and then read aloud, “The Gorgonian Grotto, located in propinquity to Anwhistle Aquatics, has appropriately wraithlike nomenclature, with roots in Grecian mythology, as this conical cavern is fecund with what if perhaps the bugaboo of the entire mycological pantheon.”

“Aye! I told you that book was too difficult!” Captain Widdershins said. “A young child can’t unlock that sort of vocabulary!”

“Piss off, we can get it.” Nick hissed.

“Aye! Watch your language!”

“Aye! I don’t give a fuck!”

Klaus sighed and pushed Nick back so he could get a better look at the book. “It says the Gorgonian Grotto is named after something in Greek mythology.”

“Gorgon!” Solitude said excitedly, shaking her head as if she still had snakes woven into it. “It’s named after Medusa!”

“That sounds right.” Nick said.

“She was a legendary monster who could turn people into stone.” Fiona mentioned.

“Aye! I think I went to school with such a woman!” the captain said.

“Snakes!” Solitude said excitedly.

“The book is saying,” Lilac said, “That it’s appropriate that the grotto is named after a legendary monster, becauses there’s a sort of monster living in a cave- a bugaboo.”

“Bugaboo?” Sunny asked.

“A bugaboo can be any kind of monster.” Klaus said. “We could call Count Olaf a bugaboo, if we felt so inclined.”

Nick stared very hard at the floor. “I’d rather not speak of him at all.”

“This bugaboo is a fungus of some sort.” Fiona said, and she continued reading. “The Medusoid Mycelium has a unique conducive strategy of waxing and waning: first a brief dormant cycle, in which the mycelium is nearly invisible, and then a precipitated flowering into speckled stalks and caps of such intense venom that it is fortunate the grotto serves as a quarantine.”

“Translation, please.” Solitude said, turning to Klaus.

Before Klaus could say anything, though, Fiona spoke up. “It’s rather simple, really. There are three main parts to a mushroom. You can see the cap and the stalk, but the part you can’t see is the mycelium. It’s like a bunch of thread, branching out underneath the ground. Some mushrooms have mycelia that go on for miles.”

Lilac sat on the table, eyes wide. “I remember reading a little about that at Prufrock, when we were studying the fungus in our shack.”

“I’d love to hear about that, when we have time.” Fiona smiled. “But it says here that the Medusoid Mycelium waxes and wanes, which means the caps and stalks spring up from the mycelium, and then wither away, and then spring up again. So you don’t know the mushrooms are there until they poke up from the ground.”

“That sounds unnerving.” Violet said, as Klaus pulled out his commonplace book to write this down.

“Oh, it gets worse.” Fiona said, not sounding very bothered at all; she was too excited about her fungus. “The mushrooms are exceedingly poisonous. Listen to this: ‘As the poet says, “A single spore has such grim power / That you may die within the hour.”’ A spore is like a seed- if it has a place to grow, it will become another mycelium. But if someone eats it or breaths it in, it could cause death.”

“Within the hour.” Lilac repeated.

“Monev,” Sunny said, which meant, “That’s a fast-acting poison.”

“Must fungal poisons have cures,” Fiona said, “And the poison of a deadly fungus can be the source of some wonderful medicines. I’ve been working on a few myself, actually. But this book says it’s lucky the grotto acts as a quarantine.”

“Quarwa?” Sunny asked.

“Quarantine is when something dangerous is isolated, so the danger cannot spread.” Nick explained to her, also sitting on the table.

“Because the Medusoid Mycelium is in uncharted waters, very few people have been poisoned.” Violet said.

“If someone brought even one spore to dry land,” Lilac shivered, “Who knows what would happen?”

“We won’t find out!” Widdershins said. “We’re not going to take any spores! Aye! We’re just going to grab the Sugar Bowl and be on our way! Aye! I’ll set a course right now!”

“Are you sure?” Fiona asked, shutting the book. “It sounds very dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Aye! Dangerous and scary!” the captain said, already climbing the rope ladder to the controls of the submarine. “Scary and Difficult! Aye! Difficult and mysterious! Aye! Mysterious and uncomfortable! Aye! Uncomfortable and risky! Aye! Risky and noble! Aye!”

“I’m going to take Solitude back to our room,” Nick muttered, picking up the toddler, “Where we don’t have to listen to him. Anyone else wanna go?”

“Even if it could hurt us, aye! The amount of treachery in this world is enormous! Aye! Think of the crafts we saw on the sonar screen! There’s always something more enormous and terrifying on our tails!”

“I’ll take Sunny.” Violet said.

“And so many of the noble submarines are gone! Aye! You think the Herman Melville suits were the only noble uniforms in the world? There used to be volunteers with PG Wodehouse and Carl Van Vechten! There were Comyns and Cleary and Archy and Mehitabel! But now volunteers are scarce! So the best we can do is one small noble thing!”

“We should really get some sleep.” Klaus agreed, shutting his commonplace book. “Before the grotto.”

“Like retrieving the Sugar Bowl! Aye! Remember my personal philosophy! He who hesitates is lost!”

“Or she!” Fiona said.

“Or they!” Solitude added.

“Lilac, you coming?” Violet asked, as she lifted up Sunny from the table.

Lilac hesitated. “Um, Fiona, I’d… like to see your fungal experiments. If that’s alright. Maybe I can help.”

Fiona smiled. “Maybe. I could use a mechanic.”

The Baudelaires all shared a very excited look, and when Fiona turned her back, Lilac gave them a glare and a middle finger.

“You all get some sleep. I’ll meet you in the dorms.” she said.

“You have all this in your room?” Lilac asked, spinning around the room to take it all in.

“Well, technically I sleep in the dorms, because I converted that bed into a table, and used the strips of the mattress to make some wall art.” Fiona said nervously.

Inside the small room- barely larger than the closet, Lilac noted- several tanks had been set up, as well as multiple other containment boxes. A large table, that had been crudely fashioned from the bed, sat in the middle, holding some of the tanks, as well as a flow hood, several tools, blocks and jars, and scattered mycological books.

“I know I should have a better table, but it’s the best I can get.” Fiona said. “Stepfather won’t buy me mycological equipment, so I have to get it all myself. My mother told me to just throw bricks through shop windows and steal what I need, but I’m not near those a lot, so improv it is.”

“It’s very impressive.” Lilac whispered, kneeling down to look over several petri dishes. “Are you growing some in here?”

“Yes. But I’ve got some in the plant terrariums, too.” Fiona said, gesturing to the tanks that she’d managed to attach to the walls. “A bit difficult to make sure they stay upright in such an old submarine, but that just makes it a challenge, and challenges are fun.”

“Which one’s this?” Lilac asked, moving to a tank. “Are those wood chips?”

“Yes. Those are my Stropharia Rugosoannulata mushrooms.” Fiona walked over, gesturing proudly. “They’re good at bioremediation, I hope to start setting them out in polluted waterways after the meeting on Thursday, once I get the okay from some other volunteers.”

“Stropharia Rugosoannulata.” Lilac repeated slowly.

“I mean, you could call them King stropharia. I just like the scientific names. They’re fun to say.”

“Oh, that’s completely valid.” Lilac smiled. “I learned Russian when I was younger just because the boys read Anna Karenina and all the names were fun to say.”

“You speak Russian?”

“I mean, I’m not fluent-”

“That’s still impressive. All I’ve got is Latin, Māori and Urdu.”

“I know more Italian. Mom taught me a lot, because operas are usually Italian.”

“Your Mother was an Opera singer?”

“An actress.” Lilac paused. “What about your Mom? What did she do?”

“She helped on the submarine.” Fiona’s face fell slightly, and she moved over to a group of mushroom grow bags. “Um, I don’t remember much about her. She died when I was five or six, and Stepfather doesn’t tell me much about her.”

Lilac flinched. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“It’s alright. My brother was a poet.” Fiona smiled. “At least, that’s what I remember from him. He disappeared around the same time as my Mother… but he was around much more, because he didn’t have to do as much Volunteer work. His job was watching me. He taught me how to play cards.”

“Our parents were Volunteers, too.” Lilac muttered.

“I know.”

“But we didn’t.” Lilac sighed. “We didn’t know anything about VFD.”

Fiona blinked. “Really? I’ve been raised completely in VFD, I just assumed that’s how all Volunteers recruited their kids.” Lilac shook her head, and then Fiona carefully asked, “What did your brother mean? About… recruitment?”

“I don’t… know. Nick learned a lot of things while he was captured, but when he tries to say them… it doesn’t always work out.” Lilac glanced at her. “But he, um, doesn’t have a great opinion of VFD.”

Fiona bit her lip. “Well. Maybe we can discuss that when we get the Sugar Bowl. I’m not sure we have enough diving suits, but maybe he’ll want to go.”

“Do you know how small the cave is?”

“Afraid not.”

“He’s not too good with small spaces.”

“Then hopefully we get to the last safe place fast.” Fiona said. “This submarine seems smaller the longer you’re here. And I hope the last safe place is big.”

“Well, it’s a hotel.” Lilac said. “That’s gotta be big.”

Fiona stared at her.

“Oh. You didn’t know that.”

“My… Stepfather said that I didn’t need to know. That all I needed to know was what VFD needed from me.”

“That’s a horrible way to live.” Lilac said. “If all we knew was what we were told, we’d never know what was right or wrong for ourselves.”

“I don’t really have a choice. He’s my guardian, and VFD left him in charge of me.”

“Count Olaf was our guardian.” Lilac glared down at a tank of wood logs and Hericium Erinaceus. “And we fought back. We’re still fighting, and we’ll never stop until he’s…” she took a deep breath. “Until he can’t hurt us anymore.”

“I wish I was as brave as you. You must be fearless to go through all of what you have and still be sane.”

“We’re not fearless. I’m definitely not. But I’m…” Lilac struggled to find the words. “Hopeful. That one day everything will set itself right, or at least right enough we can find a place for ourselves.” She smiled. “No matter what… there’s always something.”

Fiona beamed at her, and then she said, “Listen, if you… if you don’t want to listen to me blabber on about fungi, I think we have some stuff that you could repair if you-”

“No! No, I want to hear it. I like…” Lilac paused. “I like hearing you talk about mushrooms. You get really passionate about it.”

“Passionate.” Fiona repeated. “Well, maybe you can tell me about your inventions or repairs afterwards.”

“Maybe I can fix that table up.” Lilac said, pulling her ribbon from her pocket and starting to tie back her hair. “What’s that over there?”

“Lentinula Edodes.” Fiona said, smiling at some fungus growing on a hardwood log. “Also known as Shiitake Mushrooms.”

“Shiitake?”

“Don’t start.” Fiona giggled.

“Don’t tell Violet and Nick what they’re called, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Noted.”

They gave each other a look, and then burst out laughing.

Lilac and Fiona returned to the dorms very late, arms linked together as they chatted about a book they’d both enjoyed, about another sugar bowl whose contents were actually very well known. When they swung open the door, though, they quieted, and Lilac let out a soft gasp as she saw her siblings.

Violet and Klaus were sleeping on individual bunks, and Klaus had a book about different currents open on the pillow beside him. Solitude and Sunny had fallen asleep beside each other, curled under a single blanket, while Babbitt slept on a pillow, kicking their legs in their sleep. Nick, meanwhile, was passed out on a chair near the door, almost having fallen over; Lilac recognized this position quickly, from the many times he and Klaus or Violet would sit at the bottom of the stairs waiting for their parents to come home late at night.

“He was waiting for us.” Lilac whispered to Fiona, who smiled. Lilac slowly let go of Fiona’s arm and walked over, carefully lifting up her brother. She was having a bit of difficulty; shit, he was taller than her now. When did he and Klaus get so big?

She carried him to a bunk, lowering him onto it. “Go back to being five years old, okay?” Lilac whispered, reaching over to grab a blanket. “We’ll lock you in the closet again and then make ice cream towers.”

Fiona giggled a little, as she climbed up to her top bunk, watching with a very soft gaze. Lilac turned around, and flinched as she saw Nick starting to move.

“No, no,” she moved back to him, running a hand over his hair. “Go back to sleep. You need it.”

“Nu-uh.” he muttered, but Lilac could tell that in his few seconds of conscious, he’d already started to fall asleep again.

Lilac sighed and pulled the blanket over him. “You’ll be okay. You want me to sing?”

“Mm.”

“I’m not sure if that was a yes or a no.” Lilac laughed. “Just… go back to bed.”

Nick mumbled again. “Thanks, Mom.”

He was passed out again before Lilac could process what he’d said. She stared at him, her face paling. Fiona peered over the bunk, astonished to see tears start to form in her eyes. “Lilac?”

She stepped back, putting a hand over her face. Fiona leaned over the bunk until the eldest Baudelaire looked up at her, and then she said, “Are… I’m sorry, is this a happy or sad cry?”

Lilac opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. Like she herself wasn’t sure.

“Good or bad cry?”

Lilac shut her eyes. “Both.” she admitted.

“Both.” Fiona repeated, and then she reached out her hand to wipe Lilac’s tears away. “Aye.”

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #the grim grotto #six baudelaires official fic #mine #my fanfic

15 notes · View notes

finn0 · 5 years

Text

All the houses I’ve lived in

1. 94 Queens Rd, New Lambton, NSW

My parents current house since 1989 and the house I’ve had sex with the most people in. A regular two storey house opposite bush on a nice street with neighbours that don’t talk to you (perfect). 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms with air con, a big fireplace, pool and massive garage. Lovely, but I don’t expect to inherit it so the attachment must remain minimal.

2. 11 Cobb Ct, Annandale, QLD

Okay formative toddler years were spent here. A tropical style bungalow with the lowest ceilings you’ve ever seen and even lower hanging ceiling fans (take off your shirt with caution). A massive pool constantly populated with cane toads year round that saturated the yard with chlorine every time a cyclone blew through. More floor space than is necessary for anyone. Horrible, angry neighbours that hated children. Short walk to shops, no air con despite Townsville being the armpit of the country. I spent almost all of time sitting on a Big Bird beanbag watching Sesame Street and screaming in abject terror every time there was a toad sitting in the toilet bowl (which was worryingly frequent).

3. 27 Woodrose Cres, Sinnamon Park, QLD

Literally the ugliest house I’ve ever seen in my life. Gaudy, over-tiled, far too big for any family, nothing but white tiles everywhere and not a tree, nor plant, nor weed in the backyard, just grass the colour of hay. Who in Brisbane requires an attic? Who requires THAT many bedrooms? What the FUCK is that suburb name? This house we thankfully lived in for no more than 7 months but good God what a relief.

4. 45 Clarence Rd, Waratah, NSW

My grandmother Bessie’s house. We lived there for a year while I was in pre-school and while my parents house was being renovated. Absolutely fascinating house that each grandchild loved to visit. The most bizarre things were to be found there. First of all it was a regular 2 bedroom home with gaudy wallpaper and a 1950′s kitchen and bathroom, plenty of living space etc. BUT the bizarre flat that was downstairs under the house that was built for my great-grandmother to inhabit was like stepping a 1950′s motel room. Pea green bathroom, pink kitchen, rising damp, mouldy wallpaper, dust upon dust upon bugs upon discarded venetian blinds. Oh my goodness it was amazing down there. It smelled like a nursing home. PLUS under the house was this enormous space all covered in dirt and other crap and trinkets and sheets. ZERO light penetrated this space and therefore was the best place to crawl around and get spooked. The laundry, also under the house, had high ceilings that were stained a Jackson Pollock amount of colours from years of laundry and rising damp and rain leaks AND leading from under the cupboards in the kitchen upstairs was a laundry chute that led all the way down to the laundry WHICH smaller grandchildren could actually fit into and snake their way down to avoid the prying eyes of older cousins during games of hide and seek. Until you were too big to fit. Like I found out one day. Not an easy search and rescue mission, I’ll tell you that. OH AND the back bedroom had some creepy as shit naked dolls with no hair and meth eyes that rolled back in their head along with like strange 60′s childrens paraphenalia and tiny trinkets that I later found out were things like ACTUAL jewels from Scotland and vintage broken Rolex watches. Also I remember sleeping in that room in my mothers childhood single bed while she slept next to me in another, while my father slept next to my grandmother in a separate single bed in her room (why??). Later after she died, new owners bought the place and my mother met them after a few years and asked if they thought the place was haunted to which they replied an unequivocal “YES”, my mother then asked if they left dishes out in the sink of a night, to which they replied “.....yes” and Mum was like “Well that’s the culprit, my mother would NEVER allow that” and the look of understanding coupled with genuine fear cements the fact that my grandmother was and is a motherfucking force to be reckoned with, alive or dead.

5. 7/58 High St, Randwick, NSW

I moved to Sydney! Why? I don’t know! My partner was doing a degree at UNSW and I went with him because I was 21 and couldn’t stand my parents any longer so I buggered off. Now. This apartment was a second floor walk-up in a WW1 era building opposite a hospital and BEHIND a Coles loading dock. Plus there was a screaming autistic Arabian child downstairs and the loudest dog you’ve ever heard next door. Serene. Peaceful. Damaging to the psyche. We lived with my partners brother which was fine, but that place not only had no heating nor ceiling fans it also had no flyscreens. I didn’t even have my own set of keys. I shared ONE set of keys with my partner for two years. Fucking ridiculous. Yes, the food nearby was good. Yes, I commuted back to Newcastle most weekends to keep my casual job. Yes the neighbours were fascinating, ranging from the American guy across the way who never ever closed his bathroom window and gave me many shows of his frankly monstrous penis, to the chainsmoking nurse below who had a permanent frown despite living across the street from her work, to the Koreans downstairs who constantly cooked delicious barbecue while pretending to not speak English, to the gorgeous gay couple who lived above us who could add a new synonym to the dictionary to define “unfriendly”. We got out just before the new light rail was to begin construction right outside our building, but regardless, because of all the noise that surrounded that place before that, I now can sleep through the sound of a fucking jet engine roaring right next to my face.

6. 145 Wilson St, Carrington, NSW

Back to Newy! Okay so this was the first house we even Googled when looking for a new place back in Newcastle, and weirdly, we got it!. It was a tiny cottage in a harbourside suburb that was across the the street from wheat silos that are literally the size of Windsor castle. The day we moved in, a representative of the Port Authority knocked on our door and told us that if we ever heard a particular siren, that it meant the silos were on fire and an explosion was imminent and that we would have about 10 minutes to evacuate before half the city was Hiroshima-ed. Lovely welcome. We heard that siren (or a siren at least) about 50 times in the 2 years we were there. Pretty alarming, as it were. Anyway, the house was literally 3 rooms and a kitchen, 2 tiny cubicle afterthought bathrooms, and a nice big back deck. Now I was happy there, it had everything I needed, it was pleasant. I had a good garden going and I really learned to cook there. Carrington is where my family is originally from, and it was easy to walk everywhere and I loved the history of it. However, our landlord was a Chinese lady called Winnie who could not have misunderstood the concept of landlord responsibilities less. Any repairs or things we needed, she was not just unavailable but actively apathetic. It was like pulling teeth to get her to even communicate to the property manager in even basic English in regards to anything we required. Our neighbours on one side were a lovely couple with 2 babies but they had a dog called Trippi that would bark whenever someone in the opposite hemisphere coughed, and on the other side were a couple in their 70′s who were both suffering dementia, constantly screaming at each other and who also had two elderly dogs that would bark whenever someone nearby inhaled. For two years I heard literally nothing except Matt’s piano, Trippi barking, the other dogs barking, the neighbours angrily SCREAMING at one another, wheat silo alarms, screeching train tracks and coal tankers blasting their horns as they entered the harbour. Again, seasoned professional, can sleep through anything.

7. 46 Garden Grove Pde, Adamstown Heights, NSW

Alright, so two friends of mine, also a couple, were living in a tiny half house situation and also wanted out of their place, so we decided to all move in together, into a place that was much larger and that we could all collectively afford. So we found this lovely large house with 4+ bedrooms so that we could all have our own space and get on rather well. And it worked out! My partner and I had a great big bedroom, Matt had his own study, we had a library, a music room, and my friends had an enormous bedroom downstairs plus a huge bathroom/laundry AND there was 3 tiers of yard that we grew all sorts of vegetables in, plus it had a driveway that looped around (I would call it a plantation driveway?) so heaps of space for everyone. It was great, plenty of space for guests which we had a lot of, plenty of outdoor areas for entertaining, it was wonderful. But unfortunately my friends relationship ended and an old friend took one of their places for a year (also fine) but eventually it turned out that the place was getting sold and after literally months of surprise inspections and open houses we’d all had enough and decided to move out separately. Now this so far has been my favourite place. It was 10 minutes to work, everyone had their own space and we lived, I think, pretty well harmoniously together. But nothing good lasts so now...!\

8. *** Kings Rd, New Lambton, NSW

From Queens Rd to Kings Rd! We found a gorgeous house right near a train station that I am currently in and pretty happy with. For the first time I have ceiling fans again plus air con and FOUR bedrooms that I barely know what to do with. Currently I’m sitting in my study surrounded by all my books with the fan on typing this out and it feels good to have my own space for a change and actually have trouble furnishing a house as opposed to making concessions about what I keep and what I can’t. I’ve planted a veggie garden, I have my kitchen the way I want, and the house has been renovated, re-carpeted, painted and made livable for a modern couple. We have spare space for guests (or a spare room for me when I don’t want to wake up Matt when I go to bed at 3am, but that’s the sleep pattern of a shift worker) and overall I feel good about it. Finally. I’ve been looking for a good home to just COME HOME to for ages and for a long time I haven’t really felt that. My last home was lovely, but honestly 3 tiers of gardens to maintain and roommates (though they remain dear friends) are just not what I want to deal with anymore. Actually not even that, I’d be fine with roommates, but it’s just nice to feel like I have MY house and it’s mine to come home to.

Anyway, apologies for this long post, and I know barely anyone will read it, but I started this blog TEN years ago so and I don’t have a print journal to write all of this stuff in, so I might as well talk here. HOUSES! If they’re not haunted, then where’s the drama we so desperately crave?

3 notes · View notes