#its the price of high comedy

[hopkei]

"Please give us your sympathy."

[slydiddledeedee]

Urgent: Mahmoud needs a new laptop!

Can you imagine taking exams in an active war zone? That is the reality for Mahmoud @ma7moudgaza2. Please take the time to read his story:

Who among us does not remember University Street, the alleys of halls, the park, the cafeteria, and the coffee sellers on the roads.

How can a person forget his home?! His comfort, after returning from university, was to enjoy a cup of coffee, his ritual for completing his tasks, and at the end of the week in front of the television watching a comedy movie.

The house and the road to it were beautiful. Life was lived with sincerity and warmth of moments. It was our happiness to return to our homes.

Happiness became a wish, and a loaf of bread became a miniature happiness.

I am writing to you in extreme pain. My house has been damaged, and I have lost my university laptop. I currently need an MSI laptop to complete my university studies, and its price is $2000 due to the war and the extremely high prices. I ask for a donation as soon as possible so that I can solve the final exams that begin at the end of the week.

His fundraiser only has $3,475 donations so far, and much of the money has already been spent just to survive. We have to raise $1525 as quickly as possible! Please share and donate!

[theostrophywife]

CHAPTER TWO

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: somewhere only we know by rhianne.

🤍 author’s note: losing my mind because i'm in dire need of a theo nott italian summer.

Step 2 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Forced Proximity — : A circumstance or situation that forces the two main characters to spend time together (whether they want to or not).

After watching a horrendous amount of muggle romantic comedies — thanks Granger — I have come to the conclusion that the best way to squeeze a confession out of two lovestruck idiots is by forcing them to share the same space for an extended period of time, like say, the honeymoon suite in a romantic villa by the Italian coast. Never mind that I had to bribe stupid Malfoy with fancy imported French cologne to achieve it. It was worth every galleon to shove Theo and Y/N into a space designed for newlywed couples, complete with a heart shaped tub, champagne on ice, and a balcony that overlooks the stars at night. There’s a reason why forced proximity is such a popular trope. It’s effective as all hell, plain and simple. 

Second Year, The Black Lake

A misty fog cloaked the Scottish Highlands, bringing a dark and dreary atmosphere to Hogwarts and its surroundings. Back at the castle, your friends huddled around the hearth in the common room, drinking Zabini’s fancy imported hot chocolate and catapulting marshmallows at each other across the velveteen couch. On any other day, you would have welcomed the warmth and comfort on a rainy Sunday, but today you were needed elsewhere. 

As you trudged through the black sand, the coins in your raincoat pocket clinked together. You brushed your thumb over the raised surface and willed your heart to stop beating so erratically. There was no reason to be nervous. Yet here you were, dragging your feet as a familiar figure came to view.

On the shore of the Black Lake, Theo hugged his knees and stared out into the water. The raindrops gathered on his lashes and drenched his hair, bringing out the waves he stubbornly gelled back every morning. 

“I like your hair better this way,” you said softly, smiling down at your best friend. 

Theo smiled shyly as he brushed his hair back. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“Just a little,” you teased, pinching his cheek. “In any case, you make a cuter rodent than Malfoy.” 

“It’s about time someone knocked him off his high horse,” Theo retorted before tugging you down next to him. 

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled in. Theo pulled the hood of your jacket up, frowning when he noticed that the rain had still soaked your hair. “What are you doing out in the rain, anyways? You’re going to catch a cold, fragolina.” 

“Says the boy who’s soaked through the bone,” you replied with an eye roll. “You really shouldn’t be out in this weather, you know. Godric forbid you come down with something. Nonna would be furious.” 

“Good thing she’ll never find out,” Theo said, nudging your shoulder. “Because I have a best friend who’s great at keeping secrets.” 

“For now. Though I’m not opposed to selling you out for the right price.” 

“Fair enough.” 

A comfortable silence settled as the two of you gazed at the murky waters. As Theo contemplated the cloudy horizon, you rubbed the coins in your pocket. For good luck or comfort, you weren’t sure. 

“You didn’t have to come out here,” Theo whispered. His hands shook as he reached out for yours. “But I’m glad you did.” 

A heavy weight settled in your chest, but you forced yourself to smile softly as you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

The look that Theo gave you was heartbreaking. His gaze was full of pain, those familiar watercolour eyes lined with unshed tears. “I never am when I’m with you, Y/N.” 

Tears pricked behind your eyes, but you tampered it down and allowed Theo to lean against your shoulder. 

“Do the others know?” 

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t think you wanted them to. Not yet, at least.” 

“I’ll tell them one day,” Theo said. “When it doesn’t hurt as much. But for now, it’s enough that you know. I think she would have liked it that way.”

“Just me and you against the world,” you chuckled. “The way it’s always been.”

“The way it’ll always be.” 

“I miss her,” you confessed. Speaking the words felt like bringing heartache to life, but you knew that it was important to keep her memory alive. The anniversary of Evangeline’s death was full of sorrow, but there was also joy if you looked past the pain. Your mum always reminded you of that. “The other day, I saw a patch of daffodils out by the forest. They were bright and sunny, impossible to miss in all this dreariness. It felt like an act of rebellion. It reminded me of her.” 

Theo released a choked laugh. “She would’ve loved that.” 

“Mum thought so too,” you said in agreement. “I wrote to her the other day. She knitted you another pair of socks, by the way. Before you ask, yes, I have matching ones as well.” 

Your best friend snickered. While you adored your mother, knitting was definitely not her strong suit. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. 

“It’s a bit ironic that the head of the Department of Mysteries can’t solve the mystery of knitting, isn’t it?” 

You stifled a laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention that to mum in my next letter.” Theo chuckled as you crossed your legs underneath you. “She told me something interesting though.” 

“Yeah?” 

The coin seared into your skin as you gripped it tightly. You could hardly get the words out because you were so choked with emotion. “The last time she went to Fiera with Auntie Eva, they visited this temple. The Temple of Cupid.” 

Theo nodded, enraptured. “Mum told me about that too. There’s a legend about a fountain in that temple. La Fontana Dell’amore.”

“The fountain of love,” you continued. “It’s said that if you toss a coin into it, Cupid will grant you a wish. The two of them both threw their coins in there when they visited.” 

“I think I remember this story. Mum said that they both wished for true love. Your parents met on that same trip, right?” You nodded in confirmation. “I’m happy for your mum. Especially since Zio Alistair is my only ally against all you crazy women.” 

In response, you smacked him on the arm. Theo protested, biting back a smile. Your best friend blinked at the horizon, deep in thought. “Mum’s wish didn't come true, though. I don’t think anyone would ever call my father her true love.” 

“That’s the thing, Teddy,” you said softly. “Auntie Eva was already married to your dad when she made that wish.”

Theo turned towards you. His nose crinkled in confusion. The trait was so uniquely Theo that it softened something within you. “Then why did she toss the coin?” 

You brushed a wet strand of hair out of his eyes and smiled. “Because she was wishing for you.” Theo took a sharp breath as he gazed up at you. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces as the first tear fell down his cheek. “Mum said Auntie Eva’s wish came true the day you were born. You are, and always will be, her true love.” 

All the sarcasm and smirks — the armor that Theo had built around himself cracked. Suddenly he was sobbing, launching into your arms and clinging onto you for support. You bore the weight of his grief, so dense and tangible that you could feel it permeating the air. It wasn’t fair that your best friend was already acquainted with this earth-shattering pain at such a young age. If you could, you would bottle up his sadness and pour it into yourself just so Theo would be spared from ever feeling it again. 

“I miss her so much,” Theo whispered. 

“I know, Teddy,” you replied, rubbing soothing circles onto his back while you rocked him. “Just let it out. I’m here for you.” 

Theo pulled back, sniffling. “I’m here for you too,” he rasped. “I know you’re being strong for me like a good best friend, but you lost her too.”

The words unlocked a fresh wave of grief within you. All this time, you tried your best to keep it together. You wanted to be there for Theo. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. It wasn’t something that he’d ever asked of you, but you thought it was the right thing to do. 

“You’re allowed to mourn just as much as I am.” 

A deep, wracking sob rattled through your chest. You missed your Auntie Eva. You missed the way she braided flowers into your hair. You missed the way she snuck you gelato before dinner, knowing that your mum would have a fit if she found the two of you scarfing straciatella down in the kitchen pantry like criminals. You missed the way she told you and Theo about the stars, pointing out the different constellations as you lay on the roof of Nott Manor. 

You slumped into Theo’s arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as the two of you clung to each other like a lifeline. It was you and Teddy against the world. The way it always was and the way it’ll always be. 

Day Two, The Temple of Cupid

The sunshine was blinding as you blinked yourself awake. Across the terrace, Enzo and Mattheo were cuddled up underneath a blanket while Draco and Blaise curled up on opposite sides of the sofa, clutching the ends of their shared knit throw in a power struggle. Thanks to the sangria, the lot of you had fallen asleep drinking and gossiping the night away. 

Beside you, Theo stirred and snuggled closer, his arm draped around your waist possessively. Sometime in the middle of the night, you had seemingly pulled the bottom half of the blanket over to your side, leaving his long legs exposed. Theo always complained that you were a notorious blanket hog, which you vehemently denied. Given the proof, you doubted that you could refuse it now. 

As you adjusted to the light, the double doors flew open, revealing a fresh-faced and well-rested Pansy. You had no idea how she managed to look so pulled together when you could barely see through your sangria induced headache. Her lips curled into a satisfied smirk when she spotted you and Theo tangled together. Out of instinct, you flipped off the smug looking witch. 

“Is that any way to treat your savior?” Pansy asked as she set down a tray full of sparkling vials. She clapped her hands, the loud smack echoing through the terrace. The boys startled, groaning about their hangovers. “Good morning, heathens. As always, I brewed a special batch of anti-hangover potions mixed with a little hint of pepperup to get you lot going. Drink up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” 

In true Pansy Parkinson fashion, the witch managed to wrangle everyone out of the villa and into a private yacht with minimum complaints. The potion was certainly doing a lot of heavy lifting, but even without the aid, it was hard to be annoyed when you were too busy marveling at the charming coastline. 

Vallara was a wonder. The hills rolled over the horizon, kissed by the bright sunshine. The colorful tiled villas dotted the sky with cotton candy hues, which grew smaller and smaller the further you ventured out into the water. The sea was calm this morning and the cerulean blue waters sparkled as the yacht cut through the waves like butter. 

At the bow, Enzo and Mattheo peered over the railing, giving you a pang of anxiety. You already warned them to stick close to the deck, but it fell on deaf ears. You yelped as Mattheo dangled Enzo backwards off the rails. Blaise and Draco shook their heads as they each claimed a spot by the sun deck. Just as you scolded the boys again, Pansy and Theo came back up from the bottom deck carrying trays of food. 

“Enz! Matt! Food is ready,” you shouted, heaving a sigh when the two of them finally stepped back from the rail. 

“Were they doing Titanic again?” Pansy asked with an eye roll. 

“Worse, they were trying to dangle each other over the water,” you responded as you handed each boy their breakfast trays. 

“We were trying to look for sharks,” Mattheo countered with a pout. “Until you started yelling at us.”

“Yes, so sorry for stopping your extremely idiotic behavior. I suppose I should’ve just let you throw yourselves overboard.” 

Enzo grinned like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He took the breakfast plate from your hands and kissed your cheek. “Sorry, Y/N. We just got too excited.” 

You sighed and ruffled his hair. “One of these days those puppy dog eyes will stop working on me, Berkshire.” 

The brunette beamed brightly. “Not today, though.” 

“You spoil him, you know,” Theo said as he handed you a glass of orange juice. 

“I can’t help it. He’s like the little brother I never had.” 

“More like a pet you never wanted.” 

“Hey!” Enzo protested as he waved a piece of bacon in the air. “I heard that, you twat.” 

“See?” Theo said with a sigh. “Your beloved Lorenzo is not as innocent as he pretends to be.” 

You chuckled, watching Mattheo and Enzo wrestle over the last waffle before Pansy stepped in to straighten them out.  

Scooting into the seat next to Theo, you took a sip of the orange juice and balked at the taste. The bubbles were enough to make you want to spit it back out. The drink was more champagne than juice. After the sangria, you weren’t prepared for alcohol so early in the morning. Theo snickered as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Keep up, bella. Where’s the Y/N that used to double fist firewhiskeys at the common room parties?” 

“She’s still asleep, Theodore. For Merlin’s sake, it’s not even noon.” 

“Fun waits for no one,” Theo said before snatching the glass out of your hand and downing the entire thing in one gulp. 

“Oh, you’re going to regret that. I don’t want to hear about your tummy ache ten minutes from now.” 

Theo stuck his tongue out and continued scarfing down his breakfast. You finished yours slowly before joining Blaise and Draco out on the sun deck. According to Pansy, it would be an hour or so before you reached your destination, which gave you plenty of time to tan. Stepping out of your cotton dress, you adjusted your bikini and laid out on the beach chair. 

“Pans, will you put suncream on me?” Mattheo whined from the next seat over. 

Pansy twisted her nose up in disgust before sighing in defeat. It was easier to get it over with than argue. The two of you learned that the hard way over the years. She lathered the suncream on Mattheo’s back, half-heartedly patting it on. When she saw Theo step out into the deck, you saw the gears turning in her head. 

“Theo, will you put suncream on Y/N?” Pansy asked with feigned innocence as she handed the bottle over to him. 

You flushed as Theo looked over at you, his gaze sweeping over your tiny scarlet polka dot bikini. The tips of his ears turned just as red as he swallowed. 

“Um, I don’t know if that’s — “ 

“Pans, it’s really not necessary. I’m fine.” 

“Nonsense.” The witch shook her head, dismissing your statement. She leveled Theo a calculated gaze. “You wouldn’t want her to burn, would you?” 

“Of course not. I just —” Theo tripped over his words as he turned to you. “Is that okay with you?” 

“I’d be more than willing to rub you all over if Theo isn’t up for the challenge,” Mattheo said slyly. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Theo snapped. 

Mattheo and Pansy smirked at each other, watching as Theo carefully approached you. Clearly, they were both rather pleased at baiting Theo into reacting. Your best friend perched on the edge of your lounge chair, looking bashful. 

“May I?” 

Without a word, you nodded shyly. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Not when he was this close. His hands hovered over your back, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Theo gently applied the suncream on your shoulders, massaging the product in with care. He averted his gaze while he worked, the tips of his ears burning the longer he touched you. 

You felt just as flushed as you forced yourself to sit perfectly still. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like you and Theo rarely touched. In fact, you were quite affectionate, as every single one of your friends loved to point out, but it was different when you were practically half-naked. Squirming in your seat, you waited until Theo finished massaging the cream all over your back. 

“I think that’s good,” Theo said softly. 

You nodded, placing your hands in your lap. Mattheo cocked his head, a smirk forming on his face. “Do you want Y/N to do you next?” 

Theo looked panicked. “What?”

“The suncream, mate,” Riddle replied with a shit-eating grin. 

Fortunately, the captain announced your arrival before Mattheo could insinuate any more innuendos. As the ship docked, you peered at your gorgeous destination. The island was straight out of a storybook. The lush green jungle surrounded the base of a volcano, which spilled out to the white sands and turquoise shore. Instantly, Pansy called the group to order and announced the itinerary. The plan for the day involved dolphin watching, cave exploring, and a picnic by the beach. She ordered the boys to set up in the private cabana she rented, which they did so begrudgingly. 

Theo began to follow them, but Pansy stopped him short. “Not so fast. I booked something else for you and Y/N. You can join us afterwards.” 

Without further explanation, Pansy handed Theo a map, a blanket, and a picnic basket. You began to protest, but your friend merely waved off your argument. “Trust me, it’s worth the trek. You’ll thank me later.” 

As Pansy walked off, you and Theo were left to stare after her. You grabbed the map from his hands and squinted, gauging how far this little side quest was going to take you. 

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you mused. “Just a little bit over the hill and we should find whatever it is Pansy has in store for us.” 

Theo nodded. “You know I never back down from an adventure.” 

“Not true,” you corrected. “You refused to go to the Forbidden Forest with me in third year.” 

“That’s not fair, bella. First of all, Sirius had just escaped Azkaban and sure, we found out that he wasn’t a psychopathic murderer later on, but how was I supposed to know that at the time? Second of all, he was hardly the biggest threat out there. Need I remind you of the spiders? They’re horrid little beasts.” 

“All I’m hearing is that Theodore Perseus Nott is a chicken.” 

“You take that back, Y/N.” 

You stuck your tongue out before breaking off into a sprint. Slowed down by the blanket and basket, it took Theo a few seconds to catch up with you. Alongside the hill, you followed the winding staircase that you assumed led to the peak. Theo shouted after you, promising to tickle you to death as punishment. 

“You’ll have to actually catch me first.” 

The taunt was short-lived as you reached the final step, turning around to gloat only to lose balance. Out of instinct, Theo dropped everything and reached out to break your fall. His strong arms wound around your waist, holding onto you for dear life. You clutched onto his shirt, the very breath leaving your lungs as you looked up. Theo stared down at you, his expression full of worry as he scanned over you. He released a sigh of relief when he determined that you weren’t hurt or injured. 

“Dio mio,” Theo exclaimed. “Don’t scare me like that, bella.” 

“Sorry Teddy,” you murmured, shakily regaining your balance. Theo brushed your lower back as he helped steady you, sending shivers down your spine. “I got a bit distracted.” 

His short-cropped waves tickled your cheek as he held you a beat longer than necessary, his blue eyes imploring. There was something alluring about them, like hearing a siren’s song after years and years of being lost at sea. Up close, you could map the constellations of freckles on his nose, brought forth by the Italian sun. Growing up, Theo detested them, often deeming them girly, but you always thought that they were cute. 

Your gaze fell to his lips, which you now realized were moving. Presumably asking you a question. “Hm?” you responded absentmindedly.

“Stick close to me, yeah?” 

You nodded as Theo guided you by the small of your back, leading you up the halfway point. From your vantage point, you could see the yacht docked on the shore. The boys were running around and playing in the water while Pansy lounged under the cabana. 

Up ahead, the path grew more narrow, forcing you and Theo to press up against each other. The summer heat beamed down on you, its warmth heightened by the boy leaning over your shoulder. Theo squinted at the map, his breath cool on your neck while you shifted your weight from one leg to the other. 

“This place looks familiar.” 

“I was just about to say that.” 

As you examined the map, Theo stalled to a halt. “I think I know why,” he said as he gestured to the entrance up ahead. “We’re here.” 

Atop the hill sat a beautiful garden, flanked on four sides by trimmed hedges that led into a labyrinth. The front gates shimmered golden in the sunlight, the curlicue letters spelling out a familiar name — Tempio de Cupido. You scanned the map in your hands, astonished that you hadn’t realized where you were until this moment. 

This was Fiera island. The same exact place that your mum and aunt Evangeline visited all those years ago. No wonder Pansy wanted the two of you to go alone. Theo picked the blanket and basket back up, staring at the entrance in awe. You reached for his hand and squeezed. 

“Shall we?” 

Theo swallowed thickly, his gaze heavy with emotion as he followed your lead. Together, the two of you made your way through the labyrinth, marveling at the sweet smelling flowers weaved into the lush walls. The path underneath you was white marble, surprisingly untouched by the dirt and grime. Vines crawled on either side, the green ivy moving on its own accord as if to guide you to the center. 

The temple stood proud and tall, its pillars looming overhead like a marble sentry. Inside was a statue of Cupid, his wings draped behind him as he held his bow taut. Heart shaped arrows littered his feet, flowing right into the fountain that took up the middle of the temple. 

Theo’s eyes widened as he turned to you. “Is that what I think it is?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “La fontana dell’amore,” you murmured softly, tracing the plaque beside it. “We have to make an offering.” 

“But we didn’t bring any coins.” 

The map in your hands glowed, revealing a secret message. Shake me. You followed the instructions and shook the paper, finding two golden coins sitting ready in the palm of your hands. 

“Leave it to Pansy to think of everything.” 

With a grin, you handed Theo a coin. He held your hand tightly and watched as you brought the coin up to your lips, kissing the edge of it like your mum told you she did during her last visit. Theo did the same, his eyes glassy and far away as though he were thinking of his mum too. 

“Make a wish, bella.” 

You closed your eyes and spoke your wish into the silence before tossing the coin into the fountain. The coins clinked together before hitting the water, shimmering iridescent as it sank down to the bottom. Theo gripped your hand tighter, a reminder of what this moment meant to the two of you. You squeezed back in reassurance, not needing any words to communicate the charged emotions surging through you. 

After a moment, you looked up at him and smiled. “What did you wish for, Teddy?” 

He grinned slyly. “If I tell you, then it won’t come true.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Beyond the fountain, depictions of the lore of Cupid were carved into the marble walls. The great love stories of mythology filled the labyrinth. Orpheus and Eurydice. Tristan and Isolde. Achilles and Patroclus. Finally, Cupid’s own story with Psyche. Each couple was in their own way, a tragedy. 

“Isn’t it strange that the god of love fell in love with the woman he was meant to curse?” 

“Ordered by none other than his mother, no less. Mythology does love its convoluted tragedies.” 

The irony of Cupid’s mother Venus commanding her son to strike Psyche with one of his infamous arrows so that she’d fall in love with a hideous beast only for the god to then fall for the young princess himself wasn’t entirely lost on you. Despite the trials and tribulations they faced, the dreamer in you admired their story.

“Still, Psyche persevered through the trials Venus put her through and became a goddess. In the end, her and Cupid reunited and solidified their union. It’s the story of immortal love.” 

As you spoke, you traced over the ancient script craved underneath the depictions of the couple. 

“Love wounds and inflames the heart.”

“I disagree,” Theo said. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt. It heals, it stitches your wounds back together, it mends the pieces of your broken heart until it’s whole again.”  

In that, you found no argument. You could feel Theo’s gaze landing on you. Those watercolor eyes that you knew better than your own. Those freckles that you traced over and over again until you committed them to memory. Those lips that spoke soothing words in your ear after a nightmare. 

The gods and goddesses may have their ballads and tragedies, but you had something far greater. 

With a smile, you nodded. “Love feels like home.” 

After exploring the temple grounds a bit more, you found the perfect spot for a picnic. One of the acolytes pointed you to a massive lemon tree, encouraging you to use the shade for an afternoon snack. 

You thanked the young woman for all her help. “Grazie mille.” 

She clasped your hands and smiled. “Mi scalda il cuore vedere l'amore giovane abbellire questo tempio. Possa Cupido benedire la vostra unione.”

As she walked away, you asked Theo for a translation. You understood a bit of Italian, but it required close concentration and the acolyte had spoken far too quickly for comprehension. 

“She said you’re welcome.” 

“Seems like she said a bit more than that.” 

Theo shrugged nonchalantly as you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. He rounded the lemon tree and spread the blanket underneath its shade. In turn, you began unpacking the food that Pansy had so graciously prepared for you. Theo sat cross-legged beside you while you prepared him a plate of bruschetta. Thanks to magic, everything stayed perfectly fresh. 

The two of you ate under the shade of the lemon tree, the citrus breeze ruffling the flowers before you. You wondered if your mum and aunt sat here in this very spot, admiring this very same view. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Being here, I mean. I almost feel like we’re seeing a glimpse of the past.”

Theo nodded, taking a sip of his limoncello before handing it over to you. “Maybe they saw a glimpse of our future. You think they knew that we’d make our way down here someday?” 

You took a generous gulp, indulging the tanginess of the drink. The view was picturesque with the temple standing tall above the peak of the hill while the sun rose high and bright over the labyrinth. Beside you, your best friend leaned back on his elbows and drank in the sight. 

“I think so,” you murmured softly. “Though I wasn’t quite prepared for how beautiful it all is.” 

Theo glanced over at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice was thick with emotion as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’m glad that I’m here with you. I think mum would’ve been, too.” 

“Me too, Teddy. I feel her here. Watching over us.” 

You could’ve sworn that the sun shimmered a little brighter and the flowers bloomed beautifully, confirming Evangeline’s presence. This seemed exactly like the kind of place that she’d love. Out of the two of them, your mum always said Eva was the more adventurous one. You always thought that it was because she was a little bit like magic herself. 

“I feel her everywhere, but especially in this place. It’s like fate brought us here.” 

The words brought a smile to your face. In your friendship, Theo tended to lean on logic. His pragmatism was the balance to your constant daydreaming, but in this place, it was impossible not to believe in things like fate. 

“Don’t tell Pansy that, she already has enough of a god complex as it is.” 

Theo chuckled. “I don’t think she was alone in orchestrating this. I’d bet a billion galleons that nonna helped plan this.” 

“Wow, a whole month’s worth of your inheritance? How generous of you.” You giggled as Theo dug his fingers into your side, viciously tickling you. Gasping for air, you swatted his hands away. “Plot or not, I’m glad they schemed to make this happen.” 

A comfortable silence fell as the two of you passed the limoncello back and forth. Down in the gardens, the acolytes tended to the flowers, pruning each one to perfection. Their sheer pink gowns shimmered in the sunlight and on each of their chest was an embroidered scarlet heart, surrounded by golden arrows that signified their patron. 

“Teddy,” you whispered softly. “Do you truly believe in fate?” 

A soft breeze ruffled the lemon tree as Theo shifted beside you, sending his waves to flop right over his eyes. “Yes, but I haven’t always.” 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Second year,” he replied matter-of-factly. “That day at the Black Lake. Do you remember?” 

You nodded. It was the first anniversary of Evangeline’s passing. One of the toughest days in your young life. “Of course, Theo. How could I forget?” 

“Before you came, I asked my mum for a sign. Something to tell me that she was watching over me somehow.” Your eyes welled up with tears as he smiled to himself. “Then you came and found me. You told me that story and I knew.” 

“You knew what?” 

“I don’t know if it was fate or my mum or the universe, but someone sent you to me.” Theo’s eyes shone with emotion as he tucked you close. “I think they knew how much I needed someone like you in my life. Whoever or whatever it is, I’m thankful. You held me together that day. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far. Thank you, bella.”

You sniffled, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Me and you against the world, right?” 

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.” 

After soaking up the sun a little while longer, it was finally time to head back. You offered to help Theo carry the supplies, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he tucked the blanket into the handle of the picnic basket and held out his hand. 

“I don’t want you to fall again, bella.” 

With a shy grin, you intertwined your fingers together. Theo led the way, making sure to carefully guide you through the winding path. He toyed with the emerald ring on your finger as the two of you walked, his own rings clicking against yours. 

When you joined the others, your friends were back aboard the yacht. Pansy explained that you would be going to the other side of the island to sightsee the dolphins. After helping her herd the boys, the two of you finally had some peace and quiet as you settled on the lower deck. Pansy pushed her sunglasses down and raised a brow at you. 

“So, how was it?” 

“It was beautiful,” you said, already missing the temple. “Thank you for setting it up. It really meant a lot to Theo. To both of us.” 

“Anything interesting happen while you two were at the temple of love?” 

“I know what you’re getting at, Pans,” you said as you shook your head. “But Theo and I just talked about our mums. How great it was to do something that they did together all those years ago. It was special, you know? I’ve never felt closer to Aunt Eva.” 

“Good, it was meant to be a bonding experience. Nonna said it would bring you closer together.” 

“It has.” You side-eyed your friend. “So you did plot with nonna to make this happen?”

Pansy didn’t even try to deny it. “Mhm, she says she doesn’t have long on this earth and that you two needed a push. She’d like to meet her great-grandchildren while she still has her strength.” 

You flushed deeply. “Pans! You can’t just meddle in our business like this.” 

“Of course I can.”

“How many times do we have to tell you? Theo and I are just —”

“Friends?” Pansy finished with a scoff. She nodded towards Theo, who was looking up at you with a huge smile. He flushed when you met his gaze, shielding his eyes from the sun but refusing to look away. “Yes, because friends sneak pining glances at each other all the time.” 

“We’ve known each other since we were children.” 

“And?” 

“What if it messes up our friendship?” 

“You never know if you never try.” 

“Yes, but —”

“What did you wish for in that fountain, Y/N?” 

At that, you fell silent. Pansy crossed her arms, a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Fortunately, you were saved from further interrogation when the boys squealed at something up ahead. 

“Fragolina,” Theo called from below. He waved excitedly, nearly tossing his binoculars over the railing. “I found one for you, come look!” 

Pansy shot you a knowing look, which you pointedly ignored. She followed after you as you joined the rest of your friends. On the lower deck, Theo beckoned you over to him. You allowed him to position you behind the railing, holding the binoculars for you as he pointed out into the horizon. 

To your delight, you saw a dolphin breaching the water. It flipped gracefully into the air before diving down into the depths again. Theo talked your ear off and you listened to every word, mesmerized by the random facts that he was spouting. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy shaking her head at you before she mouthed exactly what she thought about the sight of the two of you getting lost in your own little world once again. 

Just friends my arse.

The waves crashed against the craggy rocks as the boys headed for the caves. The stalagmites jutted up from the earth like daggers, dotting their path with its sharp edges. Inside, a magical ball of light guided their way. Mattheo led the pack while Draco grumbled at the thought of getting his brand new boat shoes dirty. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Who buys three hundred galleon shoes just to go cave exploring?” 

Mattheo snickered. “You know how Malfoy is. He’s a fussy little git through and through.” 

His friend climbed the slippery rock, dangling overhead. Theo followed suit, never one to be outdone by his best mate. Like clockwork, his idiotic stunt hadn’t gone unnoticed. Somewhere behind them, Theo heard your voice echo through the cave. 

“Teddy, don’t climb on there. You’re gonna slip and get hurt.” 

“I’m a grown man, fragolina. I’m fine!” 

Beside him, Mattheo dangled towards another rock and swayed towards Theo. “Soooo,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “You two were gone for a while. Have you finally manned up and made a move?” 

“No, you prick. We visited this temple that both our mums went to years ago. It was actually really nice.” 

“Oh yeah,” Mattheo drawled. “Pansy told me all about that. The Temple of Cupid, right? You’re telling me that you and Y/N went to the temple of the literal god of love and nothing happened?” 

“It’s not like that between us.” 

“But you want it to be.” 

Theo remained silent as he climbed higher to catch up with Mattheo. In the distance, he heard the sound of rushing water. He followed it, catching a glimpse of the blue lagoon that twisted all along the cave network.

“For fuck’s sake, mate. We’re in Italy. This shit is romantic as fuck. What the hell is holding you back?” 

“I don’t know. We just graduated and there’s a lot of things going on.” 

“That’s the same excuse you’ve given since I’ve known you,” Mattheo said with a frown of disapproval. “You know she’s not going to wait forever. Even when we were back at school, there were already plenty of blokes interested in her.” 

“Like who?” Theo asked in a dead serious tone. 

Mattheo shrugged, purposely staying silent to annoy Theo. He hauled himself over to the next rock over and crouched. “Weasley, Diggory, Pucey. Hell, I had a crush on her at one point.” 

“What?!” Theo exclaimed. 

At his outrage, he missed his step and slipped. Theo hissed when his back scraped against the rock. Even through his shirt, the rough, jagged edges stung against his skin. 

Mattheo chuckled. “You’re too easy, Nott. I was just fucking with you. Of course I never had a crush on Y/N. She’s like my sister. The others, though. Them you need to worry about.” 

Theo fought the urge to smack his friend as Mattheo hoisted him up. He debated tripping him over to see how he liked it, but the others had already caught up with them. Too many witnesses. 

You bounded up to him, concern marring your expression. “What did I say?” 

Despite the scolding that Theo knew you were dying to give him, you gently lifted his shirt up and examined the scrape carefully. “You’ll be fine,” you murmured. “I’ve got some healing cream we can apply when we get back and you’ll be good as new, okay?” 

Theo pouted. “Okay.” 

Finally, you sighed and relented. Theo grinned as you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Just be more careful next time, okay, Teddy?” 

He nodded and smiled. “Okay.” 

Behind you, Mattheo smirked and made kissy faces. What an immature twat. 

Theo responded by giving him the middle finger. 

Later that night, Theo returned to the villa feeling weary yet glad. While he certainly had fun dolphin watching and cave exploring, nothing topped visiting the temple. Theo wished you could’ve stayed underneath that lemon tree forever. It was a memory he’d cherish for the rest of his life. 

As he washed away the remnants of the day, Theo found himself thinking of you. The way you looked at him underneath that lemon tree. Today was special for the both of you. A turning point in your friendship that was impossible to ignore. Even the acolyte commented on the obvious connection between you, cooing over young love. She wished Cupid’s blessing over the two of you, but Theo knew that you didn’t need it. He had known it for some time now. 

With a smile, he dried off and slipped into his pajamas. “Y/N? I’m ready for your expert healing now.” 

As he walked out into the suite, he found you curled up on the love seat with an open book in your lap and the healing cream curled around your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for him to finish showering. His heart softened at the sight. The day had been long and eventful, no doubt tiring you out. 

Wordlessly, Theo put away the book and carefully carried you to the bed. Earlier, you insisted on sleeping there instead of the bed, which Theo vehemently opposed. There was no way he was letting you sleep on the bloody sofa. You stirred in his arms, burying your face in his neck. Theo smiled softly to himself before he set you down. Instantly, you curled up against the pillow. Theo tucked you in and pulled the covers over you as gently as possible. 

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “I wished for you, bella.”

[plutoswritingplanet]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intro Dialogues

a/n: some slightly flirty dialogues for suggested characters from Mortal Kombat 1 (and 11), reader is a blood mage, adjacent to "Unpunishable"

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Obscure References, Poor Attempts at Comedy

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Liu Kang is squandering your potential.

Reader: I trust his judgement completely.

Shang Tsung: You were made for so much more.

...

Reader: You want me to make a deal with the Devil.

Shang Tsung: All I ask in return, is your soul.

Reader: It's too high a price!

...

Shang Tsung: I lay before you my eternal heart...

Reader: There is no love with you, only ownership.

Shang Tsung: I dearly love all of my possessions.

...

Reader: I must believe there's good even in the darkest corners of the world

Shang Tsung: Finding it in me might turn out to be a futile fight

Reader: I don't give up easily, Shang Tsung

...

Shang Tsung: Have you ever thought to say "stop"? "If you love me, you would stop?"

Reader: Not in a thousand years.

Shang Tsung: I see now, why we're destined for each other

...

Reader: The things you've been doing in your laboratories are vile

Shang Tsung: I've used the same magic, as the one coursing through your veins

Reader: Liar!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang: Empress Sindel has approved your application to study Outworld's medicine.

Reader: I'm honored by her trust.

Liu Kang: You'll do a splendid job as Earthrealm's ambassador.

...

Reader: I fear the pull of darkness overpowering me.

Liu Kang: I will guide you, until your mind is at peace.

Reader: What if it never ends?

...

Liu Kang: In the previous timeline, you were my close friend and adversary.

Reader: And in this timeline?

Liu Kang: I'm inclined to say the same.

...

Reader: Doesn't it get lonely, being a God?

Liu Kang: I'm devoted to protecting Earthrealm and its people.

Reader: You didn't answer my question.

...

Liu Kang: Beware Shang Tsung's honeyed words.

Reader: You've said we were destined for each other in all timelines.

Liu Kang: And your union always leads to your suffering.

...

Reader: You knew I'd reject Shang Tsung's offer? Fight him every step of the way?

Liu Kang: I had faith, you would make the right choice

Reader: Honestly, do you have music playing in your head when you say garbage like that

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Let me just say, there's no other place I would rather be, than right here with you right now.

Reader: I can change that very easily.

Johnny: Why so serious, sweet cheeks?

...

Reader: No, Johnny, I won't be playing in any of your movies, ever.

Johnny: Can I ask why?

Reader: Why I don't want the job that makes your brain explode?

...

Johnny: You might wanna reconsider your rendezvous with the Sorcerer.

Reader: Which one?

Johnny: Oh, you are a bad woman.

...

Reader: Don't be such a baby, it's just a scrap.

Johnny: And I need a hot nurse to patch it up.

Reader: Why do I even… You're impossible.

...

Johnny: You have experience with emotionally fragile men, right?

Reader: You're self-aware today.

Johnny: I was talking about Kung Lao...

...

Reader: Okay, Ninja Priest was actually kinda good.

Johnny: YES! I knew you had a thing for the clergy.

Reader: That's not what I... You're such an ass!

Kung Lao

Reader: Do you think Liu Kang has destined us to become friends?

Kung Lao: Obviously, I'd never choose this for myself.

Reader: He could've made you less of twat...

...

Kung Lao: It's way too dangerous for you to travel Outworld alone.

Reader: I don't need a babysitter, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: Prove it, then.

...

Reader: If you buy me dinner at Madame Bo's, I'll heal your arm.

Kung Lao: I see your time with Shang Tsung is rubbing off on you.

Reader: See, now I gotta hurt ya.

...

Kung Lao: How does it feel, being in the center of the Snake's attention.

Reader: Fuck you man, I didn't ask for this.

Kung Lao: Not good then.

...

Reader: Come on, I paid for dinner last time.

Kung Lao: I'll be happy to pay... Once you beat me.

Reader: You can be an ass sometimes, you know that?

...

Kung Lao: You know I only meant it as a joke, right?

Reader: Let me show you just how funny I think you are

Kung Lao: Bring it on, Nurse.

Bi-Han

Reader: You betrayed everything your clan stood for.

Bi-Han: You have no moral high-ground here, Healer.

Reader: I don't need it.

...

Bi-Han: Join the Lin Kuei, and unleash your true power.

Reader: Not while they're under your command, traitor.

Bi-Han: Your pride will be your downfall.

...

Reader: I can feel your blood run cold through your body...

Bi-Han: It will boil while I destroy you.

Reader: You'll freeze to death, then.

...

Bi-Han: Your aversion to power is your greatest flaw.

Reader: Should I follow your lead, then, and betray all I love for a promise of greatness?

Bi-Han: Is it wrong to want more?

...

Reader: Maybe I can beat some sense into you…

Bi-Han: I will crush you, little girl.

Reader: Great, a quip about my height, so original.

...

Bi-Han: We meet again, Blood Mage.

Reader: I knew you couldn't stay away, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Let's see if your training has progressed.

Erron Black

(am i the only one devastated he wasn't included in mk1?)

Erron: What's a pretty lookin' thing like you doin' in a place like this?

Reader: Holy shit, you even talk like a cowboy!

Erron: …Nevermind.

...

Reader: If I win, I get to wear the hat.

Erron: You'd look mighty fine in it, I'd wager.

Reader: Don't you pull your punches on me now, Black.

...

Erron: There's quite the price on your head, sweetheart.

Reader: And you'll do everything to collect it, right?

Erron: I could be persuaded against it, with the right motivation...

...

Reader: Do you flirt with all your targets?

Erron: Only pretty little ones, like you, girlie.

Reader: Well then, let's dance, Cowboy.

...

Erron: I wouldn't mind giving you a ride around town, little lady.

Reader: I'd rather beat you where you stand.

Erron: Be still, my beating heart.

...

Reader: I know who sent you.

Erron: Someone who's eager to get their hands back on you.

Reader: You can both keep them to yourself.

[romanticintheory]

on my knees BEGGING for more price and civilian!reader. i just read it and i can’t stop thinking about all the cute itty bitty interactions- their date, their convos, maybe him meeting her surprisingly scary dog (currently in love thinking about COD men and K9s yknow?).

Like if there’s not a single supporter for this, i’m dead in a ditch somewhere

what it's like dating john price as a civilian.

john price x gn!reader

part 1

more fluff, more domesticity, me being down bad

a/n: KSAHDASDKJ im so glad u love them as much as i do!! hope this does them justice for u <3

-

the date went really well, thankfully. he showed up at your place ready to pick you up with the bouquet of flowers he knew you deserved. call him old-fashioned, but he was adamant on making sure you didn't have to lift a finger for anything.

hell, he even asked you why you were standing out there in the cold by yourself, saying, "i could have come to your door so you didn't have to freeze all the way out here, sweetheart!"

he held out his hand for you to take as he guided you down the stairs, opened your side of the door for the car, and always walked with you on the side closest to the street.

the movie was a cute action comedy. it was even funnier with john because he'd sometimes pipe up at the action sequences talking about how unrealistic some scenes were.

when you told john that the main character's actor, a built, older-looking man, was used to be your celebrity crush in high school, he couldn't help but let a chuckle rumble in his throat and ask, "got a type then, love?"

"yeah, probably do," you admitted shamelessly.

the dinner was just as nice as the movie: he took you out to a nice restaurant and hung onto every word you spoke. likewise, you couldn't take your eyes off him whenever he told you stories about him and his boys.

he wouldn't tell you stories about him doing his job, mostly because he didn't want to disturb you with what he's had to do. he did, however, happily tell you stories about the ridiculous things he's seen his task force get up to.

"they sound like a handful," you said warmly, "you sure they're not your kids?"

"no, but they certainly sound like it," he leaned just a little bit closer to hear you better over the chatter of the restaurant.

"i get that. i've got a handful at home, too." you paused to take a sip of your drink. "a little puppy."

"really? what's its name?"

when he takes you back home, he wordlessly walks you back to your door.

"would you like to meet beau, john?" you ask, hand hovering over the door you unlocked.

he opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted by the sound of scratching and a dog panting on the other side of the door.

"well, only if he's okay with meeting me."

when you open the door, john is surprised to see a full-grown rottweiler launching at him at full speed. for a second, he saw his life flashing before his eyes before he realized the wagging of beau's tail.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry!" you call out immediately, "he's usually more polite around strangers. beau- beau get down!"

john only laughs at your panic and took your dog's friendliness as a sign to pet him. "'s alright, love. i trust you enough to know you wouldn't put me in harm's way."

he takes in beau's stature. from the looks of his larger-than-average size, he might be a guard dog for you. or maybe you just wanted company and decided to hone in on his scariness and bulk by adding that spiked collar.

"so, a puppy, huh?" he points outed humorously, locking eyes with you after realizing that your canine was, in fact, fully grown.

"hey, he's still a puppy to me!" you interject, kneeling down beside john's crouched figure to also show the rottweiler some affection.

"i see," he nods thoughtfully, turning his attention back to beau. "you're just as gorgeous as your owner, huh?"

your face is on fire again. "you flatter me, john."

"how does the saying go? it's not flattery if it's true?" he stands up much to the disappointment of beau and to take a step closer to you.

"you're too kind."

"jus' trying to treat you like how you deserve."

it's like he's trying to light you aflame on purpose. your embarrassment grows so much you have to cover the smile on your face with your hand. once your face has cooled down, you take a deep breath and let your hand fall down back to your side.

"thank you for tonight," you say quietly. "i had a really good time."

"glad to hear," he replies. "'m also happy to see beau likes me, too."

"well, we both have that in common, i guess."

"oh, who's doing the flattery, now?" john says playfully, his hands on his hips as you laugh softly at him.

"still you!" you insist.

"hm. maybe next time we can figure it out, yeah?" he proposes, a hopeful glint in his eye.

"next time? you already ready for a second date, price?"

oh, he was ready for more, but he didn't think you were ready to hear that.

"unless you're not," he tells you slowly, afraid of pressuring you into saying yes already.

sensing his worry, you reassure him with, "how could i not be?"

he relaxes at your admission and leans forward to give you a kiss on the cheek. "i've got your number. next week sound fine to you?"

"of course. whatever you like, soldier," you nodded, the lingering feeling of his lips on your cheek leaving a tingling sensation. if you were just a bit more confident, you would have kissed him then and there.

"i'll see you then, love."

he bends down to give beau a well-deserved goodbye pet before turning to leave, looking you in the eyes one last time before leaving for home.

[bakersimmer]

Sims 4 Flower Garden Legacy

This legacy is inspired by flowers and the meanings attributed to them. I used the interpretations from two books I found on my mother's bookshelf.

These are more like guidelines and thoughts on how to make your different generations more interesting, especially if you are like me, and you need goals and challenges to stay engaged.  I didn't have time to playtest all the generations, but I know it's possible to push your sims to the limit without cheating. 

First things first

TS4 is easy enough to play without cheating

Different generations are linked to different expansions

Objectives are not in chronological order

To add more excitement, try out different mods

There are no assigned traits, but some traits would make your sims life easier. Follow your gut on this

There are no assigned colors. Again, follow your gut

English is not my first language, so please ignore any grammar mistakes 🙃 unless I wrote complete gibberish and you don't understand a single word in a sentence, then let me know

G1 Azalea

Azalea symbolizes friendship, family, joy, and tradition. With the right amount of sunlight and water, this low-maintenance plant will bring an abundance of color and beauty to your life. 

You have a gentle and nurturing personality, with a talent for caring for others and creating a warm, welcoming environment. You prioritize spending time with loved ones and creating meaningful connections with others in your community. You find joy in the beauty of nature and have a passion for gardening and spending time in the kitchen. 

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Have at least three kids

Develop the highest possible skill level in cooking, baking, gardening, flower arranging, and parenting

Have some kind of social event with family and friends every Saturday (dinner, bbq, etc.)

Grow at least 10 different types of flowers in your garden (As of May 2023, there are 24 flowers in the game) 

Use only low to mid-range furniture and appliances. Never replace anything, fix it yourself

To make money, you can only sell what you have grown or made yourself (vegetables, flower arrangements, preserves, cakes)

G2 Hollyhock

Hollyhock symbolizes ambition, abundance, resilience, and determination. With little care, this tall and sturdy flower will bring vibrance to your garden. 

You always felt like you had to compete for the attention. You are highly ambitious, striving to achieve your goals and exceed expectations. While putting a lot of emphasis on your education and career, you neglect your close relationships. You struggle to express your feelings and connect with others on an emotional level. Despite all this, you are a loyal and supportive partner who does everything to show your feelings in a more practical way. 

Aspiration: Academic -> Fabulously Wealthy

Complete the first aspiration and move to the next one

Get the best possible grades in elementary school, high school, and university

Have a career in business. You aim for the top

Marry the first sim you have a romantic relationship with

You are the breadwinner. The spouse quits their job after marriage and never works again

Don't spend much time with your child/children

Your home has medium and high price items. When something breaks, you always replace it with a new one

Pass the family money to the next heir

G3 Hydrangea

Hydrangea symbolizes vanity, arrogance, and desire. With little care, hydrangea brings elegance to your garden with its large and showy blooms. 

You are highly creative and have a refined sense of style. Being in front of the cameras feels natural to you. You are self-centred and tend to prioritize your needs and desires above those of others. Thanks to your skills and fame, you accumulate a large amount of wealth.

Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity

Develop the highest possible skill level in charisma, comedy, and acting

Go to a club/restaurant at least twice a week

Have one Meet and Greet in every season

Use mean interactions often

Change your hair color at least 3 times in your life

Hire a butler

In old age, an unexpected wave of generosity hits you, and you donate all your wealth

G4 Yarrow

Yarrow symbolizes strength, courage, overcoming and recovery. This flower will grow even on the poorest soil and doesn't require any care to thrive. 

You grew up in luxury and wealth, but now you have nothing. Despite the obstacles, you are determined to provide for yourself because you want a stable and secure life. It is very important for you that your children are equipped with the necessary skills to be independent and successful by the time they move out.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim -> Super Parent

Complete the first aspiration and move to the next one

Start with 0 money and a tent

In addition to work, dumpster dive to find valuables that you can sell (Don't sell collectibles or paintings/music/books for extra cash)

Attend different skill classes

Choose medicine as the last career and work in that field until retirement

Fall in love with a patient and end up marrying them

All your kids must gain a Top-Notch-Toddler trait

Always help your children with homework/school projects

All your kids must gain at least one positive character value trait

G5 Gardenia

Gardenia symbolizes sensuality, passion, and secret love. This sweet and intoxicating flower requires a little bit more attention from its grower. 

You have a magnetic personality and natural charm. You are a hopeless romantic who tends to get caught in the passion and excitement of new relationships. You avoid long-term commitment because you fear that the daily routine will kill the excitement and passion. For that one special person, you are willing to take a chance on love despite your fears. 

Aspiration: Serial Romantic -> Soulmate

Complete the first aspiration and move to the next one

Have a childhood friend who later becomes your soulmate

Work in Public Relations (Social Media career)

Get married at least 3 times

Woohoo in 10 different locations (As of May 2023, there are 23 locations/ways on the list)

No kids until adulthood

Reconnect with your childhood friend and settle down with them

G6 Protea

Protea symbolizes dreams, exploration, courage, and resilience. This plant needs a lot of space and sun to grow. It should not be planted deeper than the surface level of the soil. 

You have a strong sense of wanderlust and a need for adventures. You love new experiences and cherish old memories. For you, a job is just a means to an end. 

Complete two adventure/location-based aspirations

Develop the highest possible skill level in fitness, photography, programming, and logic

Work as a freelance programmer

Complete the postcard collection

Move repeatedly and live in at least 3 different worlds

Settle down in one of the desert/warm climate worlds (Oasis Springs, StrangerVille, Sulani, Del Sol Valley, or Tartosa)

Go on a family vacation in every season

G7 Snapdragon

Snapdragons symbolize passion, deception, denial, duality, and strength. This eye-catching, mostly warm-colored flower spices up your garden. 

You are a master of deception, leading a double life. At first glance, you appear ordinary or even mundane, but looks are deceiving. Beneath your boring surface lurks something more sinister. Your purpose in life is to make others' lives a living hell because seeing them suffer is your favorite pastime. You are very passionate about your hobbies...maybe even a little fanatical.

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Develop the highest possible skill level in mischief, singing, piano

Fight with 5 different Sims

Become a Triple Agent (Secret Agent Career)

All your kids have to play one musical instrument at the highest possible skill level before they become young adults

All your kids have to have one negative character value trait

G8 Daffodil

Daffodil symbolizes new beginnings, rebirth, truth, and creativity. Daffodils love sunlight and well-drained soil. Therefore, the best growing place for this flower is an open and raised flowerbed.

You are a detail-oriented individual driven by a deep desire to uncover the truth. While searching for the truth, you stumble on a secret that will profoundly challenge your worldviews. You are loved and supported by your community, who admires your dedication. 

Aspiration: StrangerVille Mystery & Friend of the World

Work as a journalist

Be a member of at least two clubs and host club meetings every week

Solve StrangerVille Mystery

Get married to a sim who helped you defeat the Mother Plant

Host at least 8 different types of social events in your lifetime (As of May 2023, game has 25 different social events)

All your kids have to complete the Social Butterfly aspiration

G9 Rudbeckia

Rudbeckia symbolizes justice, fairness, motivation, and optimism. Rudbeckia is a hardy flower that loves evenly moist soil but can also survive drought and scorching sun. 

You are a highly principled individual deeply committed to upholding justice and protecting others. You are willing to make great sacrifices to ensure that justice is served. After work, you enjoy creative pursuits which allow you to unwind from the stresses of your work. You desire balance and harmony in your home life. 

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Develop the highest possible skill level in wellness, painting, knitting, and cross-stitching

Work as a detective

Have a romantic relationship with one of the suspects but break it off eventually

Own a house with a large and luscious backyard where you spend most of your free time

Be strict with your kids, and never miss an opportunity to discipline them

All your kids have to earn the Emotional Control trait

G10 Lavender

Lavender symbolizes spirituality, intuition, devotion, and growth. Lavender needs a lot of light and warmth. Although this flower looks hardy, it's highly receptive to changes in the soil. 

You are fascinated by the concept of magical and mystical, so you spend a lot of your time exploring spiritual practices and rituals to connect with this hidden world. You are determined to connect with and become part of the supernatural world. You have a soothing energy that puts others at ease.

Aspiration: Choose a vampire, spellcaster, or a werewolf aspiration

Develop the highest level of Medium skill

Work as a paranormal investigator

Become a friend with a vampire, spellcaster, or a werewolf

Become a vampire, spellcaster, or a werewolf

[kidukami]

☾┅ about me ┅ ☽

hi, call me mika! i'm 21+ and i go by they/them pronouns. i'm a se asian writer + aspiring literary translator based in the uk. this post is essentially a writeblr reintroduction as i am starting anew in the community with this blog, and i'm really excited to share my wips and connect with all you lovely writers out there! i'm also tag and/or interaction friendly (although my reply speed is... not the best especially for tag/ask games, but i'm trying!), so please don't be afraid to say hi ♡

☾┅ writing interests ┅ ☽

important note: my works may contain mature and potentially triggering topics. viewer discretion is advised.

╳ i'm mainly a prose fiction writer, although i may dabble in scriptwriting and poetry at times. ╳ genres: speculative fiction, historical fiction, thriller, literary fiction. ╳ themes: sociopolitical commentary, satire, dark comedy, angst/tragedy, tragicomedy, morally grey characters, queer romance. ╳ open to reading all genre and themes! you're more than welcome to reblog this with your wips or tag me in them, whether or not they feature any of the above. the above lists are not exhaustive because to this day i still don't know how my writing brain works. ╳ i take plenty of writing-related requests (beta/proofreading, critique, collabs, translation work, etc.)! please refer to my carrd for more info, or contact me directly for inquiries.

☾┅ main wips ┅ ☽

will o' the wisp :: adult sci-fi/thriller novel. ╳ award-winning talk show host and journalist noe crane is constantly treading a tightrope as he assumes his secret vigilante identity behind closed doors, but things get worse when his past comes back to haunt him. ╳ features: tragicomedy, morally grey characters, lgbt+ characters, complex relationships, modern setting, superpowers, conspiracies ╳ wip intro here!

the duña duology :: adult weird fiction duology. ╳ a troubled man in his 30s attempts to escape from his past and seeks refuge in a run-down inn, only to find himself caught up in a dangerous conspiracy against the world. ╳ features: adult (30+) characters, unlikeable protagonist, multiple universes, high concept, complex worldbuilding, retrofuturism, found family, conspiracies, aliens (?) wip intro coming soon! message if you want to be tagged.

a history of the tenshima gang feud (working title) :: new adult sci-fi/romance novel. ╳ when a national museum tour guide somehow travels back to the city's deadliest era in history as one of its disgraced figures, he will soon find that his beloved city isn't what it claims itself to be. ╳ features: time travel, alternate future, fictional setting, criminal underworld, ensemble cast, sociopolitical commentary, morally grey characters, lgbt+ characters, love triangle, lovers to enemies, friends to lovers, mcd, tragedy wip intro coming soon! message if you want to be tagged.

lilium carnage :: historical steampunk visual novel (collab with @nana7esque) ╳ four characters on two sides of the same coin. each of them are determined to deliver their own justice in the corrupted land of navona, even at the cost of their own lives, but little do they know that there will always be a bigger price to pay. ╳ features: alternate history, fictional setting, choice-based story, multiple endings, morally grey characters, lgbt+ characters, tragedy, enemies to lovers, complex chara dynamics wip intro coming soon! message if you want to be tagged.

☾┅ side wips ┅ ☽

shelved wips, wip ideas i have yet to develop, etc.

╳ by the kiss of the sleeping night :: thriller/romance webtoon collab with @nana7esque ╳ retelling of the nyi roro kidul myth ╳ modern setting character-driven script with each characters being an allegory to the seven deadly sins

feel free to interact with this post especially if you're also a writeblr! ♡

[mariacallous]

The most controversial Israeli comedy sketch of the current war is just 88 seconds long. Aired in February on Eretz Nehederet, Israel’s equivalent of Saturday Night Live, it opens with two ashen-faced officers knocking on the door of a nondescript apartment, ready to deliver devastating news to the inhabitants. The officers are greeted by an ultra-Orthodox Jewish man who is similarly stricken when he sees them.

“I’ve been terrified of this knock,” he says. “Ever since the war began, I knew it would eventually come for me.” But before the pained officers can continue, he interjects: “Listen, there is no situation in which I will enlist—forget about it.”

It turns out that the officers have the wrong address. This is not the home of a fallen soldier, but of one of the many thousands of ultra-Orthodox Jews who do not serve in Israel’s army, thanks to a special exemption. As the officers depart to find the right family, the man calls after them, “Tell them that we prayed for him! We did everything we could.”

The gag struck a nerve. Channel 14, Israel’s pro-Netanyahu equivalent of Fox News, ran multiple segments denouncing the satire. Commentators for right-wing media outlets called it “incitement,” a term typically applied to pro-terrorist speech in Israeli discourse. Why did a short sketch warrant such an overwhelming response? Because it took aim at the most vulnerable pressure point of Benjamin Netanyahu’s coalition—one with the potential to cause the current government’s collapse.

Since Israel was founded in 1948, it has fielded a citizens’ army with mandatory Jewish conscription—and one very notable exception: Ultra-Orthodox, or Haredi, yeshiva students do not serve. This dispensation dates back to David Ben-Gurion, the country’s first prime minister. A secular Jewish socialist, he saw Israel’s ultra-Orthodox as the dying remnant of an old world, and when the community’s leadership requested an exemption from the draft, Ben-Gurion calculated that it was a small price to pay for their support. At the time, the ultra-Orthodox constituted about 1 percent of Israel’s population, and the exemption applied to just 400 young men in religious seminaries.

That was then. Today the Haredi community numbers some 1.2 million, more than 13 percent of Israel’s total population. And because this community has the highest birth rate in the country, its ranks will only swell. In other words, the fastest-growing group in Israeli society does not serve in its armed forces. Since October 7, the divide has been thrown into stark relief. After Hamas massacred 1,200 Israelis and kidnapped hundreds more, the country initiated one of the largest mobilizations in its history. Children and spouses departed their families for the front, leaving fear and uncertainty in their absence. Nearly 250 soldiers have since been killed, and thousands more injured. Many Israelis spend their evenings at home fretting about that ominous knock on the door.

Meanwhile, Haredi life has largely continued as usual, untouched by the war and its toll. Yeshiva students have even been photographed enjoying ski vacations abroad while their same-age peers are on the battlefield. Some ultra-Orthodox individuals do voluntarily serve in the army, and others act as first responders, but their numbers are small enough to be a rounding error. In February, a record-high 66,000 military-age Haredi men received exemptions; just 540 had enlisted since the war began. Put another way, more Arab Israelis serve in the Israel Defense Forces than ultra-Orthodox Jews.

The Haredi carve-out has long rankled Israel’s secular citizens. Yair Lapid, the center-left opposition leader and past prime minister, rose to prominence in 2012 on a campaign that promised “equality of the burden.” Before him, the right-wing politician Avigdor Lieberman built his secular Russian constituency on a similar pledge. But what has changed since October 7 is that this discontent is no longer emanating solely from the usual suspects, such as the left-wing Eretz Nehederet, but from supporters of the current governing coalition, including the more modern religious right.

Unlike the ultra-Orthodox, Israel’s religious Zionist community is fully integrated into the country’s army and economy. Sympathetic to Haredi piety, it has typically sat out the debates over conscription—but no longer. In early January, a religious Zionist educator from Jerusalem published an “Open Letter to Our Haredi Sisters.” In it, she implored ultra-Orthodox mothers to encourage their sons to enlist in the IDF. “This reality is no longer tolerable,” she wrote. “For those who think that their son is not suited for military service, we say: Many of our children are not suited to be soldiers. None of them are suited to die in war. None of us are suited to sending a child to risk his life. We all do this because it is impossible to live here without an army … and we are all responsible for one another: it cannot be that others will take risks and risk their children for me, and I and my children will not take risks for them.” The letter now has nearly 1,000 signatures.

The grassroots pressure on this issue from the non-Haredi religious community has risen to the point that Bezalel Smotrich, the ultra-nationalist politician and finance minister who has courted Haredi votes, joined the anti-exemption campaign, at least rhetorically. “The current situation is outrageous and cannot continue,” he said last month. “Israeli society’s claim against the [Haredi] community is just.” But this demand may be one that Netanyahu cannot satisfy.

Much has been written about Netanyahu’s dependence on the Israeli far right to remain in power. But the backbone of his coalition for many years has actually been the ultra-Orthodox political parties. They stuck with the premier after he was indicted on corruption charges, and they refused to defect to the opposition even after Netanyahu failed to form a government following successive stalemate elections. Today, the far right provides 14 of Netanyahu’s 64 coalition seats; the Haredi parties provide 18. The Israeli leader has richly rewarded this loyalty by ensuring an ever-growing flow of public subsidies to ultra-Orthodox voters and their religious institutions. Because Haredi men can maintain their military exemption only by remaining in seminaries until age 26, they rarely enter the workforce until late in life and lack the secular education to succeed in it. As a result, nearly half of the ultra-Orthodox community lives in poverty and relies on government welfare—an unsustainable economic course that is another perennial source of Israeli angst.

The Israeli public—and especially the Israeli right—was previously willing to look the other way on Haredi enlistment to advance other political priorities. But now, in a time of perceived existential conflict, Haredi enlistment has become a prime concern. Israel faces war with Iranian proxies—Hamas in the south and Hezbollah in the north—and it needs more soldiers, not more people who can’t be drafted. To cope, the country has extended reserve duty for current enlistees, further underscoring the disparity between their experience and that of the ultra-Orthodox. A long-standing fault line in Israeli society has now produced an earthquake.

Recent polls show that Israeli Jews—including majorities on the political right and center right—now overwhelmingly oppose blanket Haredi exemptions. A February survey found that an astonishing 73 percent were against exemptions—up 11 points from November. A poll released this week similarly found that 73 percent of Israeli Jews, including a majority of people who voted for the Netanyahu government, oppose the billion-shekel subsidies to Haredi institutions that are included in the government’s current budget proposal.

Unfortunately for Netanyahu, he’s running out of time to solve this problem, and his usual stalling tactics may not suffice. That’s because not just the Israeli public but the Israeli Supreme Court has put the issue on the agenda. Back in 1998, the high court ruled that the ultra-Orthodox exemption violated the principle of equality under the law, and ordered the Parliament to legislate a fairer arrangement to replace the existing regime. Since then, successive Israeli governments have tried and failed to craft such a solution, constantly kicking the can down the road. Months before the war, the current government set a March 31 deadline for passing its own legislation to resolve the Haredi-draft issue. This was widely expected to be yet another exercise in equivocation, leaving most of the ultra-Orthodox exempt so as to keep the coalition together, and likely setting up another showdown with the Supreme Court. In other words, more of the same.

But more of the same is no longer enough after October 7. With the public incensed at what many see as Haredi privilege, Netanyahu is facing revolt within his ranks. Most notably, Defense Minister Yoav Gallant has publicly called for an end to the exemptions and said he will not support any legislation on the matter that is not also approved by Benny Gantz, a centrist opposition lawmaker and rival to Netanyahu who sits in the country’s war cabinet. But any Haredi-draft bill that satisfies Gantz and Gallant is unlikely to satisfy the Haredi parties, who perceive enlistment as a threat to their cloistered way of life. And if no new legislation is passed, the IDF will be required to begin drafting the ultra-Orthodox on April 1.

As this deadline approaches, tensions have exploded into the open. This past week, Yitzhak Yosef, the Sephardic chief rabbi of Israel, declared that “if you force us to go to the army, we’ll all move abroad.” The ultimatum drew widespread condemnation, even from within the hard-right government. “Drafting to the military: A good deed!” retorted Smotrich’s party. “Army service is a huge privilege for a Jew who defends himself in his country and a great deed,” added the far-right faction of National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir. It’s not clear that these worldviews can be reconciled, and the failure to bridge them could bring down the government.

Polls show that the overwhelming majority of Israelis want Netanyahu to resign, either now or after the war; that most Israelis want early elections; and that the current hard-right coalition would be crushed if those elections were held tomorrow. U.S. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, surely aware of those surveys, called yesterday for Israel to go to the polls to choose new leadership. The problem for the Israeli public is that no external mechanism forces Netanyahu to hold new elections, and the terrible polls for his coalition give its members every incentive to swallow their differences and keep the government afloat rather than face voters. Haredi conscription is perhaps the one issue that could shatter this cynical compact.

It’s never wise to bet against Netanyahu, Israel’s ultimate survivor. He will pursue every possible avenue to paper over this problem. But if he fails, his ultra-Orthodox allies could be compelled to leave the coalition, breaking it from within to force elections and freeze the status quo until a new government is sworn in. And if that happens, Israel’s other civil war may claim its first casualty: Netanyahu’s political career.

[pengujoon]

STRONG BELIEVER OF FLOWERS

content. kenma x wife!reader, fluff, comedy. husband!au. high school sweethearts who? neighbours who? kenma loves flowers. you cannot convince me that kenma doesn't secretly enjoy saying 'you're fired' to incompetent employees lol

a/n: i read the last part with the receptionist to my sister and she asked me if the genre is meant to be comedy not romance and i can only just nod

"How much did you say that the bouquet of flowers are?"

"Ma'am, they're 11,280 Yen. For the third time, its 11,280 Yen."

The way your mended heart just shattered into a million pieces again after hearing the price. Yeah, you thought to yourself, I'm never going to have to eat dinner from now on.

"Aight... I'll pay by credit card." You painstakingly pull out your credit card and key in your pin code, releasing a huge sigh from your mouth.

On the other hand, the look on Kenma's face once he receives the flowers will be enough motivation to push you through the month.

"Alright," the cashier said, "we'll start preparing the flowers now. Please have a moment over at the waiting lounge, and we'll bring it over to you once the preparations are complete." She ushered you over to the lounge and immediately headed back to prepare the bouquet that you purchased.

Having time to spare, you leaned back against the chair and rested your arms on the armrest. Thinking back on your relationship, you have never felt as blessed as you are right now. Who could've thought a high school crush on the quietest setter could develop into an actual serious long-term relationship with him?

Thinking back, the time when he asked you out was such a chaotic time.

It was during lunch break when you entered the multi-purpose hall and headed towards the vacant piano on the stage. It was odd to see the usually bustling hall empty, but you figured that since it was a once-in-a-lifetime type of chance, you wasted no time rushing onto the stage to play the piano without the discomfort of knowing that others are watching you.

You open the cover of the grand piano, heart beating against your chest as you position yourself before the piano, in awe of the beautifully and carefully made grand piano.

Your fingers started their little dance on the monotonous keys; the familiar tune that started the Merry-go-round of Life echoed through the vacant halls on the stage, pouring all your emotions into playing the song that accompanied you as you grew up - it held a special place in your heart.

The simple piano opening was an unmistakable tune, bringing back all the nostalgia from the movie and the song, both playing a significant role in the growing up of yours.

As the waltz began, unconsciously, your body swayed according to the music, loving each part of it. Your eyes were closed, taking in as much of the harmonious melody as possible. A soft grin slowly found its way onto your face, hitting every single note as you present yourself with the best performance you mustered.

It is indeed a merry-go-round of life, you figured. Many have said of this piece to be a song played during their wedding day, some commenting that if this song wasn't played at their funeral, they are not going to die. It's hilarious, but it's true.

This song reminded you of the time during your cousin's wedding, as you watched the newly-wedded couple waltz along to this song in the middle of it all, losing themselves amid all the noise and crowd. The look they gave each other as they hold their lover closely to themselves as they waltzed along the stage was unforgettable, making you fall all over in love with the song and the connection one could have with music.

It was especially fascinating, knowing such a magnificent piece of music could be played just by the piano, each dynamic and rhythm beautifully expressed through the mere fingertips of yours. During the climax of the song, you were just so lost in the music - the climax of the song was the best part of it all. Every single part of the piece was distinct yet so beautifully made in such a way that each part was connected.

As you approached the end of the song, the feeling of accomplishment and wonder filled you whole, still in awe at such a masterpiece of music.

So when you heard soft clapping noises from the floor, you flinched so hard you immediately tried grounding yourself by holding the piano but instead you slammed the bass part of the piano and the clashing bass notes gave you both a fright as the both of you jumped a little in shock.

Hands immediately placed on your chest in a poor attempt to calm your heart, you turned to look at the stranger who clapped only to find out that he was the volleyball club's renowned setter, who just happened to be in your class. But before you could say anything, he beat you to it.

"That was the most beautiful piece of music I've ever heard someone play from that piano."

Coming from someone who you knew never talked much, this is a HUGE compliment.

"Oh, uhm, thanks."

Ah, yes. The best answer you could reply.

It was from that day onward that the both of you would bump into each other in the hall and spend more time together because of your interests. As you played the piano, he read tactics on volleyball. These times get more frequent and slowly, you began hanging out with him during lunch breaks, getting to know one another better.

"Ma'am, your flowers are done."

The lady's voice broke you from your memories of the past, and you nod in her direction. Immediately you see the pink bouquet, and a sudden strange feeling of warmth filled your heart. You got up and went towards the counter to pick up the bouquet and thanked her.

Humming a soft tune, you walked outside the florist shop, hearing the soft shut of the doors accompanied by the little jingle from the bell hanging by the door.

How will Kenma react to my flowers? You wondered, looking up into the clear blue sky. Yeah, maybe just like last time.

Flashback to the time when you decide to walk home together after an afternoon of spending time with him in the library. Unbeknownst to you both, Kuroo was trailing behind as you both walked home. Thinking that he was just feeling nice to accompany you home, the thought that he just might be your neighbour never crossed your mind.

When you reached just a few steps away from your house, you turned to thank Kenma when you realise he wasn't following you at all. His keys to his house jingled in his hands, him staring at you with a blank expression as the wheels in your heads clocked into place.

"You live here?"

"You're my neighbour?"

The both of you asked at the same time, still in shock over what just happened.

"I- you never knew y'all were neighbours?" Kuroo asked. "I live in a neighbourhood of dummies."

Somehow, it just never occurred to you that he might be your neighbour. You knew he lived nearby, since he too walked to school, but not this close to you.

"Oh." The both of you said in unison.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, he's gonna give the same blank look as then.

From realising the fact that you both are neighbours, whenever the teacher assigned the class pairing projects, you would immediately nominate yourself to be paired with Kenma, who had no objections to the pairing. Since the both of you were neighbours, you had no issues with having to bring the project home to complete, and neither did he see any issue with going to your house and vice versa. He found himself the most comfortable when he was with you, but it couldn't be anything else other than friendship, right?

Wrong. There was a weird bubbling feeling that he would get whenever he hung out with you, and not with anyone else. He knew deep down it was a bad idea to ask Kuroo about this, but who else could he ask regarding these matters? You?

And so he asked. In the locker room. When all the other boys are there.

He realised it was a bad time to ask right after he said it. Kuroo's unmistakable voice rang through the locker rooms as he shouted "KENMA YOU'RE IN LOVE??"

He sighed. But Kuroo's words aren't so far away from the truth. He did enjoy being with you and would find time with you being the most comfortable person he would want to be with when he was gaming, knowing you would be doing your own thing but in his presence just as he was in yours.

So it was one day when he had enough of keeping his feelings bottled up when he confessed. It was an accident though.

It was during practice time when you walked up to find Kenma to ask for access to his house to pick up the books that you left over the other day. You walked up to the hall to look for him, but you hid behind the doors the moment you overheard your name when Kuroo was talking.

"Have you confessed to her yet?"

"Confess to who?" you can hear the confusion lacing Kenma's voice.

The moment you heard your name come out from Kuroo's mouth, your heart started beating uncontrollably. I mean, you thought, it's not that bad having Kenma as my boyfriend...

But upon hearing the silence from your friend, your heart started beating differently in a bad way. Thoughts that he might hate you came rushing to your brain, filling your train of thought so much that they overflowed.

Thinking of the worst, you walked into the hall for your original purpose, pretending that you heard nothing from them. But just as you walked in, a volleyball came flying fast in your direction. Those years playing as a handball goalkeeper didn't fail you as your hands immediately rose to block the ball from hitting your face.

Damn.

Silence ensued the sound of the ball hitting the polished floors, no one daring to speak a breath.

You heard Kenma call out to you as he ran towards your direction. "Are you ok?"

"I don't know, good sir, is that a response meant for Kuroo for asking that question or was that meant for me?" Unconsciously, you let your snarky side take over as you gently rubbed the part of your arm that came into contact with the ball earlier.

Hearing no response from the blonde setter, you glanced up at him, hoping to see any reaction from him. But you didn't expect to come into face with a blushing mess on the blonde's face.

"Sir, are you ok?"

"...How am I supposed to answer you when my crush just overheard me talking with my best friend that I haven't yet confessed to her yet..?"

Now it was your turn to be a blushing mess.

Thinking back at it, it was such a chaotic moment - two blushing mess were standing right at the entrance to the hall, with one of them being the unmistakable setter of the team, the other being the pianist that the whole school knows to play the piano but doesn't know the whole school knows that she plays the piano.

Chaotic moment indeed. But it was on that day when he officially asked you out, and you officially accepted his offer to be his girlfriend and him your boyfriend.

Looking back into the present, you stepped at the entrance to the building of Kenma's Corporation. It's amazing to accompany him to grow from a mere high school student to a corporation owner in just a few years, and you are very proud to be able to take part in Kenma's growth over the years.

You stepped into the building and immediately made your way to the lift, to which you already had an access card from Kenma. But just as you were about walk any further towards the lift, a piercing feminine voice shrieked out loud, causing you to take a halt.

"Woman, where do you think you're going?" Shrieking, the lady at the reception pointed her long nails at you, making you wince at the ungodly sight.

"I'm going to visit my boyfriend," you muttered, already not liking where this is going. "Don't worry, he gave me a passkey for the elevator." You showed the card to her, and an original copy of Kenma's signature was on the card, clear evidence that the card is original.

"Who do you think is your boyfriend?" The woman shrieked. "You want to meet mY BOYFRIEND you mean?"

"Huh????" You said even before you realised it. "What do you mean your boyfriend????"

You read enough stories to know how this is going to end, but you were low-key excited to see how this will all play out before your very eyes.

"You're talking about the Kenma Kozume, aren't you? The CEO of Bouncing Ball Corporation is my boyfriend indeed!" It was clear as day that this receptionist was delusional.

"Oh yeah, why don't you call your 'boyfriend' down and let me see if he is actually your boyfriend or not?" You snickered under your breath, but it didn't go unnoticed by the receptionist.

Face reddening with anger, she said, "I'll call him down now and show you proof!" Without any hesitation, she reached for her intercom and dialled for the CEO's code. Talking with the personal assistant of the CEO, she requested the presence of the CEO under the pretence that someone important was waiting down in the lobby for him.

You were shocked at her audacity, and you're definitely going to ask Kenma about HR's method of hiring their workers. Careful of the bouquet of flowers in your hand, you leaned against the glass walls, waiting for him to come down.

"What's going on?" In just a few seconds, you heard your boyfriend's tired voice from the lift and your eyes were filled with the sparkles of admiration and love as he stepped out and the sight of him in his casual wear with just a black blazer popped onto his body. Typical Kenma look.

"Kenma my love, this woman right here says that you're her boyfriend!"

A loud sigh came from the man with blonde ends to his black hair. "For the last time, Ms. Rei, I am NOT your boyfriend!" he shouted, and you noticed how the once bustling lobby immediately fell silent.

"I've had enough of this." He pulled out his phone and keyed into his phone pad. "HR?" He said, "I want you to fire the receptionist with immediate effect."

He ended the call and glared at the receptionist. "Ms Rei, not only have you defied my direct orders of not calling me your boyfriend, you have failed to represent the corporation in good light. You have also failed to respect my significant other, who has shown clear evidence that we are in a relationship.

"Many warnings were given to you, Ms Rei."

You anticipated the last sentence, and it seemed that your boyfriend could sense your eagerness to hear that one sentence that will always be mentioned in any office-related drama.

"You're fired."

Satisfaction filled you as you heard those two words spill out from Kenma's mouth.

"But-"

"I want to hear no more words from your mouth." Kenma's intense glare at her never ceased fire. "Leave."

All this time, all you could muster was to look at your dearest boyfriend in awe.

"What?" He turned towards you, but the gaze he had on you was vastly different from that glare to the receptionist. He seemed to have noticed your stare on him, and although he tried not to show it, you could see that the tips of his ears were redder than usual.

"I just thought that you sounded so cool just now," you said genuinely, as you haven't seen CEO Kenma in action ever.

But being your boyfriend of nearly a decade, he could sense the teasing behind the seemingly genuine compliment. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing about the teasing. "Why are you here?" And you were right! The same blank look appeared on his face.

"I- do you not see this massive bouquet of flowers that I'm holding?" you asked, feigning shock. "You need to get your eyes checked."

"I see the flowers, but why?"

"Oh, for no reason. I just wanted to surprise you with it." You said it so nonchalantly that he almost decided to not believe in you. But knowing you for more than 9 years, he knew that it was the truth - you simply just wanted to surprise him with flowers.

"They're beautiful." Two simple words, but you can hear the sincerity in them. He rarely compliments, so this must have meant a lot.

"I figured that it was a beautiful addition to your office, and hopefully that it will brighten up your day after seeing it," you said, "and I know that you don't receive flowers a lot, and since I am a strong believer that men should receive flowers as often as women do, I am here to gift you your bouquet of flowers!"

You smiled, and shoved your hands outwards, pushing the flowers closer to him. A soft smile found its way onto the corners of Kenma's lips, and you heard him whisper something, but you couldn't catch it.

"What did you say?" you asked.

"I love you very much was what I said," Kenma's soft gaze shifted from the flowers to your eyes, and you saw nothing but pure love and admiration in his cat-like golden eyes that you fell in love with.

Yeah, you thought.

"I love you too."

[arecomicsevengood]

Jack Cole's Plastic Man

I recently discovered that some volumes of the Plastic Man Archives, those fifty dollar hardcovers issued by DC, can be had for fairly affordable prices these days. I had always heard that Jack Cole was one of the few Golden Age cartoonists whose work held up - Some would advocate for Will Eisner's work on The Spirit, but Cole's work, being more explicitly comedic seemed like it might come closer to E.C. Segar or other strip cartoonists whose work I know to be enjoyable. I'd read a little bit of Plastic Man before - his origin story, as reprinted in Jules Feiffer's The Great Comic Book Heroes, is not that impressive, but is ingrained in my memory due to poring over that book at my grandparents' house as a kid. I also know that I read the Art Spiegelman and Chip Kidd Jack Cole And Plastic Man: Forms Stretched To Their Limits book but that was much later in life and so I don't remember the stories reprinted nearly as much as I recall the Chip Kidd of it all: The scans from newsprint, the ephemera. There are only a few complete stories in that book.

I do wish there was a single volume best-of, in an affordable softcover, rather than a series of eight hardcovers, committed to completism. There are also now four softcovers, put out by PS Artbooks, that reprint four issues of the Plastic Man series at a time - I believe there is some overlap with the archives in the first two of these volumes, but that with the third they get to reprinting material DC didn't get around to. I also believe that PS follows the "scanning from old issues" method preferred by Spiegelman to the "restored and made crisper" approach seen in the DC Archives books. I don't know, of course, if my personal taste in what I think is the strongest material would align with that of the editors of a hypothetical best-of. I'm sure there are great discrepancies between my taste, those of an editor at DC Comics, and Art Spiegelman's when it comes to contemporary work, but I would also like to think that, when evaluating work from the 1940s, our collective tastes would approximate those of the theoretical modern reader. I believe we'd all agree that The Granite Lady, from Volume Five, with its reoccurring gags of men being suicidal due to a beautiful but indifferent woman, or the same volume's Thinking Machine, with its prefiguring of AI played for laughs, constitutes top-shelf material. Volume 3 is a little more consistently high-quality than volume 5, but not by much.

But beyond selecting the stories that hold up as comedy, that are able to maintain a certain velocity, there is the cartooning itself to observe the oddity of. There is a peculiar way these panels move from panel to panel, which is abnormally solid: Often it seems like the figures are made of clay, and they and the camera are being moved around a stop-motion diorama. There's a way of foreshortening the bodies and backgrounds that gives the comics a sense that the spaces have been realized by the artist with perfect precision before he laid his pen to paper. This is most in evidence with Woozy Winks, Plastic Man's sidekick, a big fat guy wearing polka dots and a straw boater hat, but there is always a sense of solidity, of moving the reader through the space of the page by identifiable props. A big part of this is the gag of Plastic Man himself, how he disguises himself as an object then reveals himself later.

Cole shows Plastic Man stretching within the panels themselves, which are set out in a standard three-tier page. He doesn't go for wacky byzantine dynamic layouts that have Plastic Man moving throughout the page. There is something inherently deadpan or understated, which is both a big part of why these comics work and something that people trying to adapt Plastic Man to a more traditional superhero comics framework miss. Plastic Man is now owned by DC Comics, and when he shows up as a character, he is played as zany, while the sense of humor in Cole's comics is situational and occasionally dark. In a non-Golden Age context, it makes sense to play the character for what he can do visually, but playing the cartooning broader leads to different calculations as to how the timing would work.

There are other factors in play as to why later incarnations may not work as well. Over time, the idea of a humorous superhero veers into superhero parody, which then gives way to head-up-its-own-ass self-referentiality. This is a trap even very funny people can fall into. Jack Cole is simply telling stories, that require very little from the reader in terms of background knowledge they need going in, and he elaborates on his basic premise, time and time again, becoming reliably entertaining. I don't think I need many more of these collections beyond the two that I have, but two volumes of classic comics is generally my limit: That's all I have of Carl Barks, Floyd Gottfredson, E.C. Segar, and Cliff Sterrett. Cole easily ranks among those guys, a great entertainer for a broad audience.

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Secret Santa

This was really fun to write, and was also my first time doing something like this, so for my first ever thing like this, I'm pretty happy with it. I hope my person likes this a lot :)

@writeblrcafe hosted the event

This is my gift for @kittrrrr - hope you enjoy!

A Recurring Face

Word count: 979

At first his name had been Kestrel. He’d liked it; for what reason, he couldn’t quite say, but when he first heard the word he knew he loved it. Later on, he found out that a Kestrel was a bird, but he didn’t mind it too much. They were lovely birds.

Over time that name had to change. It was only natural. As humans developed, so did their languages and the names they went by. His name would be seen as unusual or strange, and thus it had to change to something else. In his heart, though, he was always Kestrel. No matter what name he took, he was always just Kestrel.

Humans had nice literature, Kestrel decided.

They were amazing; artfully woven words into strings of sentences. Each word was carefully selected to have an intended effect. They could make him laugh or - on rare, memorable occasions - make him cry.

Some of his favourites belonged to the Greeks.

Kestrel walked through the town, his eyes wandering across the shops and men walking around him. The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays beating down on him pleasantly, if a little too hard at some points in the day. There were no clouds that would drift by. The fact made him frown a little, but he recovered soon afterwards when his attention was captured by a man arguing with a vendor.

The man was not dressed like the other men and women roving around. He wore a white button-up shirt underneath a leather waistcoat, accompanied by pinstripe grey slacks and shiny shoes. His hair was a ruddy red and his eyes bright green, like moss in a forest. The man was trying to bring down the price of an urn, to which the vendor was trying to maintain his composure whilst explaining to the man that “This urn is incredibly valuable, it cannot be sold for such a price.”

Smiling, he approached the two men slowly. His arrival caught the attention of the vendor.

“I can pay for it,” he said. Kestrel took out some drachma and handed them to the vendor, taking a glance at the strangely-dressed man beside him. “Is it enough?”

The vendor’s eyes bugged out of his head. “This is too much.”

“Consider it a bonus, for putting up with my friend’s antics.” Kestrel turned to the man with a smile, hoping he would play along. “Come, let’s go back home.”

He placed his hand against the man’s back, but not before taking the urn and handing it to him. Kestrel escorted the man away from the shops and people and down a more private road.

He stopped when they were far enough from other people that no one would overhear.

The man looked at him curiously, his gloved hands shaking a little as he held the urn. He rotated it, tilted it, looked at it from every angle imaginable, then began to smile brightly. “Thank you,” he said, “I do not think I would have made it out of that unscathed.”

Kestrel laughed. “I’m sure you would’ve managed it.”

“I’m Thomas,” the man - Thomas - held out his hand. “And who are you, good sir?”

“Kestrel.” he answered, shaking Thomas’s hand with vigour.

---

His love for Greek literature was threatened by the appearance of Shakespeare. He couldn’t help but adore the man’s craft; his way with writing and creating likeable and repulsive characters; his amazing skill for both comedy and tragedy; the way he had risen to fame and even earned the favour of the queen herself.

He had arranged tickets to see one of his favourite plays and took his seat. It was a more private area, since he found that sitting with other people was quite tedious, at times, and that  plays were far more enjoyable with less clamour.

A man walked in. “My apologies, sir, but there aren’t many more seats available. Would you mind sharing with another?”

Kestrel nodded. “I see nothing wrong with that. Tell the fellow that he is welcome here with me.”

Bowing his head in response, the man scurried away, then returned with—

Oh.

The man disappeared, and Kestrel was suddenly alone with Thomas. He hadn’t aged a day; no wrinkles, no crow’s feet around his eyes, nothing. He was just as youthful as the day Kestrel first met him.

Which couldn’t be possible, since it had been several centuries since their last encounter. Unless Thomas was also…?

“I recognise you,” Thomas said, breathlessly. “You— you’re that man. From Ancient Greece.”

“How are you still alive?” he blurted out.

Thomas’s brows furrowed in thought. His eyes took in Kestrel’s clothing, his hair - which he had to cut short, sadly - and his face, lingering a bit too long on certain features.

Kestrel felt his cheeks colour, and looked down at his lap. He nervously fidgeted with his hands. “Why don’t we enjoy the play?” he suggested. “Then we can talk afterwards. Perhaps go for a nightcap.”

Hesitant, Thomas sat down beside him. Their shoulders brushed against each other for a brief moment.

“I think I would enjoy that very much, indeed.”

He wanted to never see Thomas go. He wanted to learn everything he could about the man who had disappeared for centuries and then came back.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

It took a short while for that to sink in. He wasn’t alone anymore. Kestrel didn’t know what to do. He could sing, he could cry, he could dance for hours on end and never stop!

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, a nervous smile on his face.

Kestrel beamed back at him with an expression akin to a child on Christmas day. “Yes. More than alright, in fact.”

Their attention was snatched by the commencing play as the actors rushed onto the stage.

He was not alone anymore. Maybe things would be different this time.

[morgue-xiiv]

for the ask game: Idiot Doom Spiral

OKAY! I been working on this one for a while so it's gonna be great. Really high concept.

This is tough, not because he doesn't have good or bad thing about him, but because like. Everything about him seems like an opinion or vibe based thing. Like okay he's homeless because he lost his keys and ID and couldn't prove he had a right to enter his own home. Is he a fucking dipshit as I've heard many people say or is he a potent reminder of the insane precarity of our lives? I think the latter. Every person I've spoken to about it has a different idea of how he could get into his own house and every one of them runs out of ideas if you say "and if that didn't work?" even a couple of times. Even the game says there should be an obvious solution yet does not provide one. Oh your landlord would let you in. What if you rented through a managing agency and the staff turnover is high so no one recognises you? How would you even CONTACT your landlord? with the phone number you wrote down and carry with you everywhere even if you're on a jog? Oh your staff would let you in at work. Suppose they don't though? Suppose the main point people are on a week long business trip or your security guard says "look man I know its you but I'm not allowed to let you in without ID I could lose my job", you're a grown man so your parents could easily be dead or very far way. my absolute favourite take was "well the supervisor in your building would recognise you!" Yeah thanks Monica Geller, tell me you're American without telling me you're American. Hell, what if all this beurocracy is HARD and lying down on a beach drinking is EASY. That's the real reason, you maybe could get in "if you tried hard enough" but everyone has a limited ammount they CAN try and traumatic experiences like the cops locking you up for asking for help sap that energy Realllly fast. You, too, are probably 4-8 comedy of errors events from homelessnessliness. It blows!

1) He's very invested in his work and doesn't accept anything that falls bellow his standards of excellent BUT his job is predominately hollow overcompensated manipulative bullshit. BUT advertising is art even if you don't agree with the art or its aims. He's focused on his artistic fullfilment rejecting low concept ideas even if he thinks they would be functional effective ads.

2) I seem to recall him rejecting fascism as 'low concept stuff' but I can't find the line now so take my word for it. And I'm not even sure.

3) IDS was a very controversial Tory scumleech who oversaw massive punitive cuts to financial support for the disabled in the UK and it's funny as fuck now to call him Idiot Doom Spiral because they abbreviate the same. (that's meta as shit sorry)

3) he seems to really appreciate the company of his friends but he clearly views himself as "above" them somehow. Buddy, you had a fancy job but you're here in the dirt those are your mates now. coked up marketing exec aint the win over drunken small business owner and professional non-caller of Abigails even when you were society approved.

4) not above a little beneficial fraud. Does however take a pen "for his trouble" without negotiating or revealing that price in advance. But sometimes it's the racist lady's monkey pen so for the love of god yes please take it I hate that pen.

5) TFC: he's supportive if you tell him you're dating Kim

6) I really feel like there's more but he has so much dialogue goddamn

7) oh he refers to his ex as a "sweet piece of ass" the objectifying misogynistic little cumstain.

8) smart enough to not drink medical spirits

9) If you tury to embark on the cocain skull quest he pretty much looks into the camer and says "not unless we the studio get More Money to make a Bigger Game!" and that's really funny. I mean kinda sad now but that meta shit is funny. I guess in narrative he doesn't know that's what he's doing.

10) he's pretty entertaining and can chat shit on all day if you keep him in booze. We all need that friend.

[imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs]

VxK Week Day 3: Stone

@senshixshitennouweeks I'm happy to say I think this is the VxK Week entry I'm most proud of

Mall Culture was a tricky business. Before the great thaw, online shopping and monopolization had majorly cut into what had formerly been major hang out spots for young people looking to connect with other people and burn through some extra spending money.

But, due to some handy laws passed by Neo-Queen Serenity (who herself had some fond memories of outlet shopping and food courts), the Crystal Tokyo Mall boasted an extensive array of businesses, catering to numerous tastes, including reasonably priced jewelry. There were even rumors that the stores were sometimes frequented by disguised members of the royal family. Although these were only rumors. Especially since the King of Crystal Tokyo would never be caught in a pea green hoodie with one of his trusted guard looking over rings in a quaint jewelry store.

"What about this one?"

"Too small."

"And this?"

"It wouldn't match the ring."

"And this?"

"That looks just like the one you gave Usagi."

Mamoru huffed and turned to glare at Karim, though he felt his intent might be undercut by the fact that he wore his daughter on a baby harness strapped to his chest.

“We’ve been here for five hours, Karim,” he said, “I didn’t take this long picking out my engagement ring!”

“I’m sorry,” Karim said, turning back to peruse the display case, “but it has to be perfect.”

“This again?”

The two were joined by Karim’s sister, Basma, who pushed a bolt of fabric in a shopping cart in front of her.

“How was the shopping?” Mamoru asked.

“Pretty good,” Basma replied, holding up the fabric (somewhat awkwardly due to its size and weight).

“Tangerine silk. Perfect for Minako. Setsuna is still looking for some gold ribbons, but we should have the bridesmaid dresses done by next week.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Mamoru said, sighing in relief. This had been much more stressful than being a high school superhero.

The idea had been Usagi’s. To surprise the ultimate matchmaker and romantic, Sailor Venus, with a ready-made wedding the moment her beau, the ever steadfast and stoic Kunzite (though he went by Karim in his civilian persona), proposed to her. While he had his reservations, Mamoru could admit that so far things had gone smoothly. Makoto on catering, Zoisite and Michiru had already composed an original waltz for the reception (a wonder, considering their different styles of composition and tastes), Rei and Usagi were working to keep Minako distracted and Ami was coordinating the whole thing, while Jadeite was vetting the guest list.

But between the extreme personalities of some of the individuals involved and the inability to ask Minako what exactly she would like for her own wedding, people were getting testy. He’d already had to break up a bridezilla moment between Nephrite and Haruka over the bride and groom’s wedding carriage. And then there was getting everyone’s families together for the date.

Whoever said it was good to be the king must have just been a comedian.

Speaking of comedy…

“By the way, what do you mean again?” Mamoru asked, raising an eyebrow.

Basma snickered into her fist while Karim groaned.

“You should have seen this guy when he first started as Minako’s photographer,” she said, before lowering her voice to imitate her brother, “nothing’s good enough for her! No digital touch up! I used to be evil!”

“I do not sound like that,” Karim said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Dat!” Chibiusa cried, and she seemed to point towards Karim.

Karim heaved a sigh and turned returned to gem hunting.

“Maybe you should pick a gem that reminds you of her,” Basma said. She joined her brother in looking over the display case before pointing at a gem that held dozens of flecks of colors.

“Like that one!” she said.

Karim shook his head.

“Those are bad luck.”

“Since when are you superstitious?”

Karim turned to look at his prince and his sister.

“I already failed once with Minako, I don’t want to ruin it again. Not with this.”

“I understand the sentiment,” Mamoru said, allowing Chibiusa to grip his finger, “but you might be overthinking this. Minako loves you. In fact, she loves everyone with her whole heart. And I think that she would love—”

“There!”

Karim’s finger pressed against the display case. There, in the center of the case, rested an orange sapphire cut into the shape of a heart. Around it the gem, tiny diamonds winked in the lights of the case.

“That’s the one! That’s for her!”

The tension that had been building in Mamoru’s shoulders loosened and he waved over the clerk.

“We’ll take that one,” he said, “money is no object.

“Best week ever!”

Minako fell backwards onto her bed with three shopping bags on either arm, and laughed, a sound that warmed Karim’s heart.

“Have a fun day?” he asked from his place at his desk.

“Did I? We went to the film festival they were hosting in Shibuya, and then…”

For maybe five minutes, Karim just watched as Minako droned on and on about her past few days, about concerts and movies and how much fun she was having this week. How bright she could be, how much energy she could fit into a room.

If he was going to ask her to share the rest of her life with him, Karim thought, now was the best time.

“Minako,” he said, rising, “I think there’s something we need to talk about…”

Minako held up a finger, signaling him to stop.

“Just a second,” she said.

Minako reached into one of the bags and dug through it’s contents, swearing at least once before she retrieved what she seemed to be looking for.

A small, square box lined with felt.

Karim’s eyes widened.

Could it be.

“Look, I know it’s not a leap year. But we’ve been living together for like… well, I can’t remember how long. But you’re probably one of the best things that ever happened to me and I know how much of a wondering eye I had when I was in middle school, but… you know what, just screw it!”

Minako opened the box and held it out to Karim. Nestled inside was a ring. Simple and elegant, made of white gold and bearing a pale pink gem.

Kunzite.

“Will you marry me?”

The warmth in Karim’s chest spread up to his face, manifesting in a smile. Reaching into his pocket, he removed his own box, shaped like a heart and held it out to Minako.

“Will this do as an answer?” he asked.

[blood-red-canvases]

little ooc Fuma fact

If Fuma was a canon character, his Japanese dub voice would speak in a mix of the usual Japanese that you’re used to hearing, but with a mix of Kansai-ben. Kinda like how Chuuya He usually speaks in Kansai-ben, which is one of Japan’s many dialects!

Here’s some facts about it!~

Kansai Ben is distinctly different from standard Japanese in terms of accent, pitch, intonation, as well as words and expressions they use. One of the most common characteristics of Kansai Ben is probably the unique accent. They sometimes put an emphasis on the syllable of a word which differs from what we hear in standard Japanese. For example, when they say “Arigatou”, (means “Thank you” in Japanese), the high pitch comes on the sound of “ga”, instead of “ri” which is more common in standard Japanese. 

It is spoken in the Kansai region of Japan, particularly in the metropolitan areas of Kyoto, Osaka, and Kobe, and the surrounding areas.The dialect is also spoken in Nara and within a 31-mile radius of the Osaka-Kyoto area.

Kansai-Ben dialect is slightly harder to learn then typical Japanese. This is because communication in the Kansai region uses not only language but also humor. Humor is one of the most important elements for Kansai people and it’s the culture. That’s why Osaka is regarded as the mecca for comedians and the famous stand-up comedy club is located in Osaka!!!

Mod speaks a tiiiny bit of Kansai-ben because she learned it when she was bored.. so here, take some basic Kansai-ben phrases/words!!

Ookini (おおきに)

Ookini is a common expression which means “Thank you” in Kansai Ben! Its usually used at shops and restaurants, and sounds a little bit more casual than saying “Arigatou”. “Maido” (まいど) is also used to tell their appreciation for their customers after they purchase or order something.

Nanbo? (なんぼ?)

This word means “How much is it?”, and it is often used to ask the price at shops. In standard Japanese, “Ikura Desu Ka?” (いくらですか?) is the phrase which has the same meaning, and it is also commonly used in the Kansai region.

Oideyasu (おいでやす)/ Okoshiyasu (おこしやす)

Oideyasu, and Okoshiyasu are common expressions in Kyoto Ben which both mean “Welcome”

This got a little too long for a “little fact”… lmk if you wanna know more lol

I HOPE THAT MADE SENSE…

[school56df]

The Extraordinary Journey of a family friendly Goat movie

 Family Friendly Goat Movie Venkat Prabhu, an iconic call inside the Tamil movie enterprise, is known for his distinctive fashion of filmmaking that blends humor, nostalgia, and unconventional narratives. Over the years, he has carved a spot for himself with films that stand out for their fresh, irreverent tone and ensemble casts. One such movie that showcases his particular directorial style is "Goa," a movie this is both a party of friendship and a bold exploration of the concept of freedom.

Released in 2010, "Goat movie trailor " is a Tamil-language comedy-drama that revolves around the escapades of three younger guys—Vinayagam (Jai), Ramarajan (Premji Amaren), and Saamikannu (Vaibhav Reddy)—who dream of escaping their mundane lives in a small village in Tamil Nadu. Their aspirations are fueled through memories of journey and romance they pay attention from their pals, and they decide to embark on a journey to the coastal paradise of Goa, hoping to revel in a lifestyles of pleasure and freedom.

The film starts offevolved within the picturesque town of Pannaipuram, in which the three protagonists lead an uneventful life. Vinayagam, the ringleader of the organization, is determined to interrupt loose from the limitations in their conservative village and explore the world past. His  pals, Ramarajan and Saamikannu, are without difficulty swayed via his infectious enthusiasm, and together, they hatch a plan to visit Goa. Their decision to go away the village is impulsive, spurred by means of the romantic testimonies of a friend who claims to have married a foreign female in Goa and settled down in a lifestyles of luxury.

Venkat Prabhu uses the primary a part of the movie to set up the innocence and naivety of the 3 buddies. Their interactions with the villagers, their daydreams approximately a glamorous existence, and their comical attempts to put together for their adventure set the tone for the film's humor. The trio's adventure to Goat is marked by way of a series of funny activities, which includes their encounters with quirky characters on the manner, which includes a talkative truck driver and a mysterious hitchhiker. These scenes are peppered with Venkat Prabhu’s trademark humor, that's frequently situational and relies on the chemistry between the characters.

Upon attaining Goat, the 3 buddies are mesmerized with the aid of the splendor and vibrancy of the place. The movie then shifts gears as they begin exploring the seashores, nightclubs, and the carefree life-style that Goat is well-known for. However, their initial exhilaration quickly gives manner to a sequence of misadventures that challenge their friendship and test their clear up.

Vinayagam, the maximum ambitious of the 3, becomes infatuated with a overseas girl named Jessica (performed by using Australian actress Melanie Marie Jobstreibitzer), whom he meets at a seaside celebration. Convinced that she is the key to his dream of a high-priced lifestyles, he pursues her relentlessly, leading to a number of comical situations. Meanwhile, Ramarajan, the bumbling comic alleviation, finds himself entangled with a nearby Goat female named Suhasini (played by way of Piaa Bajpai), who has her personal set of issues. Saamikannu, the most grounded of the trio, attempts to keep the organization together however unearths himself increasingly more interested in the peaceful and religious aspect of Goa.

The splendor of "Goat" lies in its capacity to balance humor with moments of proper emotion. As the three pals navigate their way via the u.S.And downs in their journey, the movie subtly explores subject matters of friendship, love, and the look for identification. Vinayagam’s pursuit of Jessica, as an example, isn't just about his desire for a glamorous existence; it also reflects his deeper insecurities and his want to prove himself to the world. Similarly, Ramarajan’s dating with Suhasini, although played for laughs, is tinged with a feel of longing and vulnerability.

One of the standout functions of "Goat" is its ensemble cast, which incorporates some of Tamil cinema’s maximum beloved actors. Jai, Premji Amaren, and Vaibhav Reddy supply memorable performances as the three friends, with each bringing their personal unique electricity to the movie. Jai’s portrayal of Vinayagam is each endearing and exasperating, capturing the character’s mix of ambition and cluelessness. Premji Amaren, a ordinary in Venkat Prabhu’s movies, is in pinnacle form because the hapless Ramarajan, imparting plenty of the movie’s comic remedy. Vaibhav Reddy, as the extent-headed Saamikannu, serves because the emotional anchor of the institution, grounding the film with his understated performance.

The assisting solid is equally incredible, with Sampath Raj as a gangster with a heart of gold, Aravind Akash as a flamboyant fashion clothier, and the past due comedian ‘Lollu Sabha’ Jeeva in a memorable cameo. Each of those characters provides a layer of richness to the movie, making "Goat" a colourful tapestry of personalities and reviews.

Venkat Prabhu’s course is marked by means of his eager eye for element and his capability to create a lively, immersive world. The movie’s cinematography, via Sakthi Saravanan, beautifully captures the scenic beauty of Goat, from its solar-kissed beaches to its bustling markets. The song, composed by Yuvan Shankar Raja, is another spotlight, with its catchy tunes and lively historical past score complementing the movie’s lively mood. Songs like "Idhu Varai" and "Azhagaana Neeyum" became instant hits and are nevertheless remembered for his or her catchy beats and noteworthy lyrics.

What sets "Goat" other than other films within the style is its willingness to embrace the absurd and the unconventional. Venkat Prabhu infuses the film with a experience of playfulness, whether or not it’s thru the film’s quirky characters, its unexpected plot twists, or its playful nods to famous way of life. For example, the film features several references to Tamil cinema, which include a hilarious spoof of the iconic "Mankatha" movie, which Venkat Prabhu would move directly to direct a year later.

At its core, "Best Goat movie " is a film approximately the joy of dwelling inside the second and the significance of friendship. The film’s lighthearted tone is balanced by way of moments of introspection, because the three friends come to recognise that the liberty they are trying to find can not be observed in a place or a life-style, however within themselves. This message is delivered in a way this is both diffused and impactful, making "Goa" extra than just a comedy; it is a movie with coronary heart and soul.

[methed-up-marxist]

Think? Abstract? - Sauve qui peut! Save yourself who can! So I can already hear a traitor, bought out by the enemy, shouting out this essay for the fact that there will be talk of metaphysics here. For metaphysics is the word, like abstract and almost also thinking, is the word from which everyone runs away more or less like from one afflicted with the plague.

But it is not so badly meant that what is thinking and what is abstract should be explained here. Nothing is more unbearable to the beautiful world than explaining. It is terrible enough when someone starts to explain, because if need be I understand everything myself. Here the explanation of thought and the abstract already proved to be completely superfluous anyway; for it is precisely because the beautiful world already knows what the abstract is that it flees from it. Just as one does not desire what one does not know, one cannot hate it.

Nor is it intended to deceitfully reconcile the beautiful world with the thought or the abstract; for example, that under the guise of easy preservation, thought and the abstract should be blackened so that it would have crept into society unknown to the author, and without having aroused any revulsion, and would even have been drawn in imperceptibly by society itself, or, as the Swabians express themselves, fenced in and now revealed to the author of this entanglement this otherwise alien guest, namely the abstract, whom the whole of society would have treated and recognised as a good acquaintance under a different title. Such limits of knowledge, by which the world is to be taught against its will, have the inexcusable fault in themselves that they are both shameful and the machinist wanted to achieve a little fame for himself, so that this shame and vanity cancel out the effect, for they rather repel a teaching bought at that price.

In any case, the creation of such a plan would already be spoiled, for it requires that the word of the riddle not be pronounced in advance. But this has already been done by the inscription; in this one, if this essay were to deal with such deceit, the words should not have appeared from the very beginning, but, like the minister in the comedy, should have walked around the whole play in overdresses, and only in the last scene should he have unbuttoned it and let the star of wisdom flash. The unbuttoning of a metaphysical overcoat would not even look as good here as the unbuttoning of the ministerial one, for what it would bring to light would be nothing more than a few words; for the best part of the fun should be that it would show that society had long since become the owner of the thing itself; so in the end it would only acquire the name, whereas the minister’s star would mean something more real, a bag of money.

What is thinking, what is abstract - that everyone present knows this is assumed to be in good company, and that is where we are. The only question is, who he is, who thinks abstractly. The intention is not, as has already been reminded, to reconcile her with these things, to expect her to put up with something heavy, to talk into her conscience about the fact that she recklessly neglects something like this, which for a being endowed with reason is appropriate to her rank and position. Rather, the intention is to reconcile the beautiful world with herself, if she does not otherwise have a conscience about this neglect, but still has a certain respect, at least inwardly, for abstract thinking as for something high, and looks away from it, not because it is too low for her, but because it is too high for her, not because it is too mean, but because it is too noble, or vice versa, because it gives her an espresso, seems to be something special, something that does not distinguish you in the general society, like a new plaster, but rather something that excludes you from the society or makes you look ridiculous, like poor clothes or rich clothes, if they are made of old set gems or rich embroidery, but which has long since become Chinese.

Who thinks abstractly? The uneducated person, not the educated. Good society does not think abstractly because it is too easy, because it is too low, low not because of its external status, not because of an empty pretence that puts itself above what it cannot put aside, but because of the inner insignificance of the matter.

The prejudice and respect for abstract thinking is so great that fine noses will smell satire or irony ahead of time; only because they are readers of the “Morgenblatt” do they know that there is a price to be paid for satire and that I would rather believe I deserve it and compete for it than just give my things away here.

I need only give examples for my sentence, which everyone will admit to contain it. So a murderer is led to the place of execution. Ladies may remark that he is a strong, handsome, interesting man. Those people find the remark appalling: what a murderer is beautiful? how can one be so badly thinking and call a murderer beautiful; you are probably something not much better! This is a corruption of morals that reigns among the noble people, perhaps the priest who knows the reason for things and the hearts adds. A connoisseur of human nature goes to the path taken by the criminal’s education, finds in his story a bad upbringing, a bad family background of father and mother, some immense harshness in a minor offence of this man, which embittered him against the civil order, a first reaction against it, which drove him out of it and now made it possible for him to preserve himself only through crime. - There may well be people who, when they hear this, will say: he wants to excuse this murderer! I remember hearing a mayor complain in my youth that the book writers are going too far and are trying to eradicate Christianity and accountability; one of them wrote a defence of suicide; it was terrible, too terrible! - From further enquiry it emerged that Werther’s suffering was understood.

This means, abstractly thought, to see in the murderer nothing but this abstract, that he is a murderer, and to exterminate by this simple quality all the rest of human beings in him. A fine, sensitive Leipzig world is quite different. She sprinkled and tied wreaths of flowers around the wheel and the criminal who was braided on it. - But this is again the opposite abstraction. The Christians may well be practicing the rosary, or rather the rosary of the cross, wrapping the cross with roses. The cross is the long-sacred gallows and wheel. It has lost its one-sided meaning of being the instrument of dishonouring punishment and, on the contrary, knows the idea of the highest pain and the deepest rejection, together with the most joyful bliss and divine honour. On the other hand, the Leipzig Cross, bound with violets and gossip roses, is a pukebucket reconciliation, a kind of licentious compatibility of sensitivity with evil.

Quite differently, I once heard a mean old woman, a hospital woman, kill the abstraction of the murderer and make him live to honour. The severed head was laid on the scaffold, and it was sunshine; how beautiful, she said, God’s merciful sun Binders head shone! - You are not worthy of sunshine, they said to a goblin about whom they were enraged. That woman saw that the murderer’s head was shone upon by the sun and was therefore still worth it. She lifted him from the punishment of the sheepskin into the sun grace of God, did not bring about reconciliation through her violet and her sensitive vanity, but saw him received by grace in the higher sun.

Old woman, her eggs are rotten, says the shopper to the hawker’s wife. What, does she reply, my eggs are rotten? She may be rotten to me! She should tell me that about my eggs? She? Didn’t her father get eaten up by the lice on the road, didn’t her mother run away with the French and her grandmother die in hospital, - she bought a whole shirt for her honeymoon kerchief; we know where she got the kerchief and the caps; if it weren’t for the officers, some people wouldn’t be so clean now, and if the merciful women paid more attention to their housekeeping, some people would be sitting in the stick house, - she just mended the holes in her stockings! - In short, she leaves no good thread on her. She thinks abstractly and subsumes it by scarf, cap, shirt, etc. as by the fingers and other parts, also by the father and the whole clan, all alone under the crime of having found the eggs rotten; everything about her is dyed through and through with rotten eggs, whereas those officers of whom the hawker’s wife spoke - if otherwise, how much to doubt, there is some truth in it - may see quite different things about her.

To pass from the maid to the servant, no servant is worse off than a man of little standing and little income, and the better off the more distinguished the master is. The common man thinks in a more abstract way, he acts nobly against the servant and behaves to him only as a servant; he holds on to this one predicate. The best place for the servant is with the French. The noble man is familiar with the waiter, the Frenchman is a good friend of the waiter; when they are alone, the waiter has the big word, you can see Diderot “Jacque et son maître,” the gentleman does nothing but take a pinch of tobacco and look at the clock and lets the waiter do everything else. The noble man knows that the servant is not only a servant, but also knows the news of the city, knows the girls, has good stops in his head; he asks him about it, and the servant is allowed to say what he knows about what the principal asked about. With the French gentleman, the servant is not only allowed to put this but also the matter on the table, to have his opinion and to assert it, and if the gentleman wants something, it is not done by command, but he must first give the servant his opinion and give him a good word that his opinion will prevail.

In the military the same difference occurs; in the Prussian army the soldier can be beaten, so he is a scoundrel; for what has the passive right to be beaten is a scoundrel. Thus the common soldier is considered by the officer for this abstract of a beatable subject with whom a gentleman in uniform and with a port d’épée must associate himself, and that is to surrender to the devil.

Think? Abstract? - Sauve qui peut! Save yourself who can! So I can already hear a traitor, bought out by the enemy, shouting out this essay for the fact that there will be talk of metaphysics here. For metaphysics is the word, like abstract and almost also thinking, is the word from which everyone runs away more or less like from one afflicted with the plague.

But it is not so badly meant that what is thinking and what is abstract should be explained here. Nothing is more unbearable to the beautiful world than explaining. It is terrible enough when someone starts to explain, because if need be I understand everything myself. Here the explanation of thought and the abstract already proved to be completely superfluous anyway; for it is precisely because the beautiful world already knows what the abstract is that it flees from it. Just as one does not desire what one does not know, one cannot hate it.

Nor is it intended to deceitfully reconcile the beautiful world with the thought or the abstract; for example, that under the guise of easy preservation, thought and the abstract should be blackened so that it would have crept into society unknown to the author, and without having aroused any revulsion, and would even have been drawn in imperceptibly by society itself, or, as the Swabians express themselves, fenced in and now revealed to the author of this entanglement this otherwise alien guest, namely the abstract, whom the whole of society would have treated and recognised as a good acquaintance under a different title. Such limits of knowledge, by which the world is to be taught against its will, have the inexcusable fault in themselves that they are both shameful and the machinist wanted to achieve a little fame for himself, so that this shame and vanity cancel out the effect, for they rather repel a teaching bought at that price.

In any case, the creation of such a plan would already be spoiled, for it requires that the word of the riddle not be pronounced in advance. But this has already been done by the inscription; in this one, if this essay were to deal with such deceit, the words should not have appeared from the very beginning, but, like the minister in the comedy, should have walked around the whole play in overdresses, and only in the last scene should he have unbuttoned it and let the star of wisdom flash. The unbuttoning of a metaphysical overcoat would not even look as good here as the unbuttoning of the ministerial one, for what it would bring to light would be nothing more than a few words; for the best part of the fun should be that it would show that society had long since become the owner of the thing itself; so in the end it would only acquire the name, whereas the minister’s star would mean something more real, a bag of money.

What is thinking, what is abstract - that everyone present knows this is assumed to be in good company, and that is where we are. The only question is, who he is, who thinks abstractly. The intention is not, as has already been reminded, to reconcile her with these things, to expect her to put up with something heavy, to talk into her conscience about the fact that she recklessly neglects something like this, which for a being endowed with reason is appropriate to her rank and position. Rather, the intention is to reconcile the beautiful world with herself, if she does not otherwise have a conscience about this neglect, but still has a certain respect, at least inwardly, for abstract thinking as for something high, and looks away from it, not because it is too low for her, but because it is too high for her, not because it is too mean, but because it is too noble, or vice versa, because it gives her an espresso, seems to be something special, something that does not distinguish you in the general society, like a new plaster, but rather something that excludes you from the society or makes you look ridiculous, like poor clothes or rich clothes, if they are made of old set gems or rich embroidery, but which has long since become Chinese.

Who thinks abstractly? The uneducated person, not the educated. Good society does not think abstractly because it is too easy, because it is too low, low not because of its external status, not because of an empty pretence that puts itself above what it cannot put aside, but because of the inner insignificance of the matter.

The prejudice and respect for abstract thinking is so great that fine noses will smell satire or irony ahead of time; only because they are readers of the “Morgenblatt” do they know that there is a price to be paid for satire and that I would rather believe I deserve it and compete for it than just give my things away here.

I need only give examples for my sentence, which everyone will admit to contain it. So a murderer is led to the place of execution. Ladies may remark that he is a strong, handsome, interesting man. Those people find the remark appalling: what a murderer is beautiful? how can one be so badly thinking and call a murderer beautiful; you are probably something not much better! This is a corruption of morals that reigns among the noble people, perhaps the priest who knows the reason for things and the hearts adds. A connoisseur of human nature goes to the path taken by the criminal’s education, finds in his story a bad upbringing, a bad family background of father and mother, some immense harshness in a minor offence of this man, which embittered him against the civil order, a first reaction against it, which drove him out of it and now made it possible for him to preserve himself only through crime. - There may well be people who, when they hear this, will say: he wants to excuse this murderer! I remember hearing a mayor complain in my youth that the book writers are going too far and are trying to eradicate Christianity and accountability; one of them wrote a defence of suicide; it was terrible, too terrible! - From further enquiry it emerged that Werther’s suffering was understood.

This means, abstractly thought, to see in the murderer nothing but this abstract, that he is a murderer, and to exterminate by this simple quality all the rest of human beings in him. A fine, sensitive Leipzig world is quite different. She sprinkled and tied wreaths of flowers around the wheel and the criminal who was braided on it. - But this is again the opposite abstraction. The Christians may well be practicing the rosary, or rather the rosary of the cross, wrapping the cross with roses. The cross is the long-sacred gallows and wheel. It has lost its one-sided meaning of being the instrument of dishonouring punishment and, on the contrary, knows the idea of the highest pain and the deepest rejection, together with the most joyful bliss and divine honour. On the other hand, the Leipzig Cross, bound with violets and gossip roses, is a pukebucket reconciliation, a kind of licentious compatibility of sensitivity with evil.

Quite differently, I once heard a mean old woman, a hospital woman, kill the abstraction of the murderer and make him live to honour. The severed head was laid on the scaffold, and it was sunshine; how beautiful, she said, God’s merciful sun Binders head shone! - You are not worthy of sunshine, they said to a goblin about whom they were enraged. That woman saw that the murderer’s head was shone upon by the sun and was therefore still worth it. She lifted him from the punishment of the sheepskin into the sun grace of God, did not bring about reconciliation through her violet and her sensitive vanity, but saw him received by grace in the higher sun.

Old woman, her eggs are rotten, says the shopper to the hawker’s wife. What, does she reply, my eggs are rotten? She may be rotten to me! She should tell me that about my eggs? She? Didn’t her father get eaten up by the lice on the road, didn’t her mother run away with the French and her grandmother die in hospital, - she bought a whole shirt for her honeymoon kerchief; we know where she got the kerchief and the caps; if it weren’t for the officers, some people wouldn’t be so clean now, and if the merciful women paid more attention to their housekeeping, some people would be sitting in the stick house, - she just mended the holes in her stockings! - In short, she leaves no good thread on her. She thinks abstractly and subsumes it by scarf, cap, shirt, etc. as by the fingers and other parts, also by the father and the whole clan, all alone under the crime of having found the eggs rotten; everything about her is dyed through and through with rotten eggs, whereas those officers of whom the hawker’s wife spoke - if otherwise, how much to doubt, there is some truth in it - may see quite different things about her.

To pass from the maid to the servant, no servant is worse off than a man of little standing and little income, and the better off the more distinguished the master is. The common man thinks in a more abstract way, he acts nobly against the servant and behaves to him only as a servant; he holds on to this one predicate. The best place for the servant is with the French. The noble man is familiar with the waiter, the Frenchman is a good friend of the waiter; when they are alone, the waiter has the big word, you can see Diderot “Jacque et son maître,” the gentleman does nothing but take a pinch of tobacco and look at the clock and lets the waiter do everything else. The noble man knows that the servant is not only a servant, but also knows the news of the city, knows the girls, has good stops in his head; he asks him about it, and the servant is allowed to say what he knows about what the principal asked about. With the French gentleman, the servant is not only allowed to put this but also the matter on the table, to have his opinion and to assert it, and if the gentleman wants something, it is not done by command, but he must first give the servant his opinion and give him a good word that his opinion will prevail.

In the military the same difference occurs; in the Prussian army the soldier can be beaten, so he is a scoundrel; for what has the passive right to be beaten is a scoundrel. Thus the common soldier is considered by the officer for this abstract of a beatable subject with whom a gentleman in uniform and with a port d’épée must associate himself, and that is to surrender to the devil.