#merry christmas. writing essays about this scene

[lizard-in-the-sky]

“There are times when victory is very hard to take.”

Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, dir. Nagisa Ōshima

[yletylyf]

As is clear to anyone who’s read my work or looked at my tumblr, I have two favorite characters in the Harry Potter verse: Snape and Voldemort. The Snape fandom is controversial, but vibrantly alive and full of beautiful fic, art, discourse, essays, you name it. The Voldemort fandom is, hilariously, much less controversial. But the attention given to Voldemort as a character outside popular ships is nowhere near on the level with the Snape fandom. So this summer, I was thrilled to see the Voldemort Appreciation Fest revive a celebration centered around Voldemort’s character.

I wrote two pieces for the fest:

The Christmas Misadventures of Lord Voldemort: It's Christmas, and Lord Voldemort is feeling merry. His search for the Elder Wand has a new lead, and he just needs the help of a potions master to break into Nurmengard. But when Voldemort searches out Snape at Hogwarts, he is in for a surprise. In which Voldemort is convinced to get drunk, play silly card games with Death Eaters, and face the fact that he is very attracted to one Severus Snape. 

Eternity Is a Long Time to Spend Alone: Voldemort has won, Britain is his. What does he do next, when there is nothing left to conquer? When his friends and family start dying around him? When the world stops offering him anything new?

More thoughts below the cut.

I wrote Christmas Misadventures first. No one should be surprised that I wrote a Snape/Voldemort smut fic! I wanted to combine a celebration of Voldemort’s character with my OTP, I wanted to write something fun and light-hearted, and I wanted to write a positive depiction of Death Eaters. As explored in a post earlier on this blog, I’m intrigued by the notion that Snape enjoyed being headmaster, generally got along well with the Carrows, and was not being actively tortured by Voldemort for anything he did at Hogwarts. Some day I might write a serious take on this which reconciles this view with Neville’s description of his seventh-year experience at Hogwarts, but for now, I’m really happy with my sweet Severus x Voldemort short. 

The tags say “Missing Scene, or Alternate Universe, you decide,” and that’s my favorite part about this piece. Does Snape go deliver the sword to Harry the night after making love with Voldemort, or do Snape and Voldemort form a more solid alliance and win the war? You decide.

Eternity is my first serious gen take on Voldemort’s character. (I also have a short piece on him as an eleven year old, but he’s eleven; it doesn’t say much about the person he becomes.) I chose a prompt that asks “what does an immortal Voldemort do doing an eternity alone,” and answered it by saying “well, he does not end up being able to tolerate spending an eternity alone.” I don’t think anyone could; it would drive you mad to lose everything and everyone you cared about. You would quickly realize things that seemed outrageously important in your youth were not all that important. The time scale of this piece is epic - centuries covered in 2k words. I wanted to convey how utterly insignificant most things would start to seem when your life extends so far. Major plot points are worth a sentence at most. 

Of course, I also wanted to write a positive depiction of Snape, so we see him making the best of a Voldemort-Wins AU, marrying one of the "good guys” and raising a generation of children who eventually unite the Muggle and magical world and feel well-armed to face the future.

[indimlights]

✨Merry christmas Cille✨

To: @birthdaysentiment 💛

-> From: @indimlights (Rodrigo)

Hi Cille! I guess it's up to me to kick off this "little" surprise but I don't even know where to start...

I remember really well the first time I saw a post of yours, I was still lurking back then and the moment I read it I felt so many things, things I don't know how to describe and that I never thought words could make me feel and I knew, I just knew that I had to see more. Fast-forward a couple of hours I knew your blog by heart, I had looked at so many of your posts and every single one was as amazing as the first one, as touching as the first one and as deep as the first one.

The meaning you put on words still gets to me every single day, you have such a way into them and don't even get me started on your music analysis. The moment I read the first one I was mind-blown! The things you catch, the connections you make between the music and the scene, the way you describe the scenes, it makes me go back, relive the moment and feel everything I felt the first time I watched it and all this just by... reading your words! If that doesn't tell me how amazing you are with them I don't know what will.

From that day I always wished I could talk to you, get to know the person behind the words, behind the masterpieces, behind the blog because you seemed like such a sweet person and now... After some time, I got that chance and I'm so happy I got it. You are everything I thought you would be and 1000x more, you are sweet, caring, smart, loving, wise, joyful and so supportive to me and to everyone in this community! You always spread love and that's so important and so nice of you to do, the way you write essays in the tags for everyone's posts just shows that! It's such a simple thing but means so much.

And I'm not even mentioning how talented you are with non-written posts because those are on another level aswell, I mean you always surprise me with your ideas and creativity and just knowing that whenever I come here I will have some sort of attack waiting for me just keeps me going and I love everything you do so much.

I'll never be able to thank you enough for being so welcoming when I barely knew anyone and for making me feel so much more comfortable here! Getting to know you better and to share this experience with someone like you has been a blessing and I wouldn't change any second of it, thank you for everything you have done and for always being so sweet to me. I don't understand what I did to deserve all that but that just shows again how wonderful you are.

I'm wishing you a merry christmas! Surrounded by everyone you love and that makes you happy because you deserve that and so much more, please never change, never stop being like this, a special and wonderful person. I hope you enjoy this surprise :) Have a wonderful day Cille 💛

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-> From: @remy3010 (Remy)

Hihi Cille❤ I love your blog so much especially music analysis! I just fall in love with your music analysis since your first posts.

For me whose mother tongue is not English, it takes a while to read but I'd love to. Because these articles deserve more people to see (including me)！

I have read every article of yours, the content touches me all the time. (Sometimes I have a lot of words want to tell you, But I don’t know how to speak in English..sorry🥺so I give❤ and reblog)

Anyway, thank you for writing beautiful words and sharing with us! I hope you can keep this passion forever, and everything go well. May you have wonderful days my friend ❤

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-> From: @franboos (Francine)

hi bb cille,

wanted to tell u that i love u blog and the time u put into analyzing stuff is shhshdhdhdhd. queen shit. u seen so genuine to talk to idk, i get those nice, non judgmental, relaxed and cool vibes from u. lmao. pls stay on tumblr for as long as u can cuz i love ur posts. u notice such little things in clips from wtfock, like u have a very detailed eye miss hehe. i really want to get to know u more cuz i really think we could vibe v well together, and that’s on perioood 😌. i hope u have a great great day while reading this queen. never stop what you’re doing cuz ur great at it. i love you !!

many kusjes and knuffels*,

fran

(*knuffels means hugs but also stuffed animal in dutch, did u know that? otherwise now u do, nice isn’t it)

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-> From: @dagcutie (Pauline)

hey hey cille!!

I must admit i’m very much a fan of you and your blog

first of all, your posts? chefs kiss!! i mean your music analysis are amazing and so on point, your photo edits are always perfect and the colorings are so beautiful, your long text posts 'drabble/headcanon style' are so cute and always makes me so soft and emotional...

your love for black and white? that’s a big yes!! anyways everything you do is perfect!!

also can we take a moment to appreciate your person? i think we can and we must do it..

you’re always so supportive and kind, all the nice tags you let under peoples creations are so sweet!! I also could cry about how cute you are always leaving lovely messages to people inbox or coming randomly to them to say something nice.. you’re the most beautiful soul and a blessing for this fandom!! please never stop being you!! ily a lot, sending you all my love and i wish you an amazing day<3

knus og kys til dig💛✨

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-> From: @allee-sander (Tanya)

Cille, you are an amazing person. you are so kind and loving. every time i see you on my dash, my face lights up. you are a literal angel. you are loved and appreciated, never forget that.

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-> From: @tsjernobyl (Emma)

Cille, you are a genuinely kind and loving soul who's just on this site to talk about the things you love and spread a little joy and everyone can tell that the moment they go onto your blog. i've seen you be nothing but lovely to everyone you interact with and it's a real honor to be mutuals with you and interact from time to time. You are always one of the sweetest and most supportive people here, and i hope you feel that love flowing back to you at all times because you always have my warmest wishes and love!!!!!

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-> From: @dreamaur (Ann)

How does it feel to be so cool and sweet and supportive??? I love you and your mind and how you see so many details and capture them so well with words,,,queen keep going with your top tier analysis and text posts that make me emotional everything single time

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-> From: @annonymannonym (Alice)

Where do I even begin ummm ... well words may not be enough to describe such angelic human being that Cille is but today is about her *about you Cille* !♡! Honestly I’m so so happy and honoured and so grateful to have meet and know you and come along your blog and your amazing posts and edits , let’s s not forget about the masterpiece that your analysis is cuz I live for every single one of them ! Always so on point and touchy and so so emotionally, they give you a whole new perspective and point of view and helps you connect with the person that goes throught those feelings , helping you understand so much deeper the feelings and the emotions he experience in that right moment( so thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking your time and writing these it really shows how much passion and love you put on making these! they absolute helped me to understand and feel much more the meaning behind all these little moments you captured so so well and wonderful ! ) You’re always such a blessing here so lovely friendly so goodhearted and sooo on ... < insert here all the good compliments in the world > cuz they all applies to you ! Know that you’re so special and such a light a sunshine wherever you are and go , you always spread so much positivity and good energy and love and compassion and you support every single people your way comes along with and you shown so much respect and love and understanding ! Always with a wise and thoughtful mind and with the right words at you using them with so much care and mining fullness ! And your blog i love love love it the b&w aesthetic and your love for it owns my heart !! I adore your posts so much ( or ramblings or thoughts as you may call them but know they are so so much more than that its a way of yours to express yourself and open up and pour every feeling you experience and many people found themselves and feel with you , I find myself in them and resonate with them every time ! ahh and your tags that you write in every post are sooo sweet and cute i could read them all day long just coming on your blog and read them makes my day so much better ) they are such a good way to brighten your day and they put a smile on my face whenever i see you on my dash truly a blessing to have you here! Never forget how unique and special human being you are and every one who has you in their lives are very blessed to have you ! Never change being this beautiful inside and out but most importantly inside ! literally a tresure your soul is and must be protected at all cost so take very good care of it ! Don’t forget to always do what makes you happy and gives joy and peace and just you know that good feeling you have in your chest and heart whenever you do something you love and like with passion and joy. I could say so much more but maybe I’ll repeat myself cuz there are never enough compliments to say about how wonderful person you are! you deserve every single one of them ! I really meant every word i said from the bottom of my heart and know that i really apreciate and love all you do and I’ll be here to support you anytime! You deserve the absolute world and more!! love you Cille! ♡ Okey bye✿

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-> From: @robbesdriesen (Bianca)

Cille ~ such a lovely presence to see on my dash always!! Your support towards everyone in the fandom is more than appreciated and so is your love that you continuously aim to spread <3

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-> From: @happilyinsane (Dharaa)

Hey Cille 💕

Just wanted to say that I think you are really sweet and lovely. I see you everywhere on the tumblr. Wanna thank you for keeping this fandom alive during the drought and keep us entertained. I see your tags on people's posts and I always feel like you are so kind and sweet to spend your time appreciating people's work. Doesn't matter if its a photo or an edit or whatever. You are so nice to pay attention to everyone individually. You are such a good friend/mutual, always appreciating and sliding into their asks and just making their day a lil bit better. You definitely bring so many smiles on our faces. I am sure everyone is very thankful to have you in this fandom, I know I am.

I know we haven't interacted that much but thank you for sliding into my asks and giving me an opportunity to interact with you. You are the sweetest, baby. And I hope you like this whole thing that Rodrigo is doing, because you definitely deserve it. Keep lighting up our dashes with your posts, pls. Ilysm 💕

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-> From: @alwaysaneverland (Sarah)

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-> From: @theflowerisblue (Lola)

Cille! You’re such a present part of the tag! You’re always interacting and posting and I love reading what you have to say. Your music analysis are so interesting and I also think you’re really funny! I love your black and white aesthetic and most of all I love how supportive and positive you’re towards everyone!

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-> From: @fvae (Fae)

hi cille!! I'm really glad to have met you through this fandom and I hope you like the surprise!! I loved to read your song analysis because they're always on point and well thought of👌 💯  and your edits!! *chef's kiss*

sending you lots of love and hugs 💕💖💫

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-> From: @embeddedinmybrain (Tasfia)

Hi Cille! You are just a ray of sunshine!! And you are the sweetest and kindest person here. I loved following through with your wtfock music analysis posts bc everything you felt is exactly what I felt. They made me really emotional!! And of course I (and Sarah and Fae) appreciate your tags for moyo season so much. We wait for them and we read them to each other and we just love seeing your reactions to it. Your edits are incredibly amazing too and I love the colouring in them. You are just an amazing sweetheart and I’m so glad to know you 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

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-> From: @veerledejaegers (Soph)

Cille, you are very friendly and sweet, always insightful and seem like an incredibly lovely person that i hope i can get to know better ❤️(also love the black and white aesthetic)

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-> From: @sanderxrobbee (Semri)

Cilleeeeeeeeeeee loml!!!! Merry Christmas to you! I genuinely wish you all the best and I hope you get to spend all the holidays in the best way possible! You’re such a blessing to this fandom because you’re talented in every single way, whether it’s your writing or your godly Photoshop skills, oh and let’s not forget your dedication because you’re there all the time to brighten our days and make us smile. I haven’t known you for long, but I truly love and appreciate all you do and I’m grateful that you always take the time to compliment everything and everyone. You have no idea how much it makes me smile when you say my gifs are good because I’ve yet to learn a lot, but you are seriously one of the biggest reasons I haven’t given up the second something got too complicated. Where am I going with this? No idea. Anyway, I adore the fuck out of you and I’m happy to take part in this “project” because you really deserve all the love in the world. Once again, happy holidays!

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-> From: @hopelessromanticvirgo (Elene)

Talking about you Cille is making me always so emotional but I will try my best not to burst out from love and emotions. You’re one of the sweetest person here and I will never get tired of saying that.

We haven’t talked that much directly but I don’t need that to know you’re one of the greatest person here, I just know that for sure. I’m also sure about it because I can see the way you treat people? Even speaking about your tags? Like you take the time out of your day to make sure everybody gets love and everybody gets attention. You make all of us smile and I adore your tags on my stories. You can’t even imagine how many times I have reread your posts about it, like I crave it, I’m in love with it, it makes me feel so happy and so loved and I’m certain that everybody else feels the same way too. You always know how to make everybody’s day better and how to make them feel special.

And please, don’t even get me started on your posts! Your song analysis. Like I know I’ve told you this thousands of times before but I don’t care, I’m saying it again! The way you pictured and described all those songs and scenes!!! Like wow! I’d always reread your posts about that one specific scene after rewatching the season countless of times. (And you also did so many scenes!! I’m in awe and I’m emo from just thinking about it)

Watching clips were different but reading them with lyrics were a whole other thing. I just felt so connected with the whole story and scenes when I’d ready your posts. And connect scenes with the music and it was the best thing ever. Sometimes I still go back and reread some of my favorite posts of yours. I never get tired of it.

And you’re so kind and so sweet that I could write essays about it! Such a blessing to this world! I just love you a lot okay? Everybody needs somebody like you, somebody who shines from kindness and love and people around you must be so lucky who get to meet you everyday and talk to you!

Thank you so much for everything you do, for being you and for making my day better and making me smile every time you reblog my posts or every time I just see your username on my dashboard! It’s such a small gesture but means so much!

Thank you for existing, babe! I hope you’re gonna have a wonderful day! And I’m sending you the biggest hug and my positive vibes! I hope a smile never leaves your face! And I only wish the best things up onto you! I love you! ❤️❤️❤️

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-> From: @itubainaretro (Esther)

Cille, my queen!!! Hi, sweetheart! Just dropping by to say that I hope you’re having a good day, despite the situation that the world is in, and that you’re feeling happy, loved, cherished and warm today, because you’re you and you deserve to feel all the best feelings in the world! I wish you all the happiness in the world and that all your wishes come true too, because you sure deserve it! Thank you for being this amazing, inspiring, talented and sweet person that you are and that I’ve come to know a little bit in the past few months! I know we don’t exactly talk that much, but I want you to know that I love seeing you, your beautiful edits and your extremely heart warming “moments that live in my head rent free” posts on my dash daily! They all really make my days! Thank you for sharing your posts with us and making this fandom (and the world, honestly) a better place! You’re amazing and I’m really glad I pressed the follow button the day I did when I started following you! I hope this little message makes you smile today, babe! Best wishes and lots and lots of love,

Esther (itubainaretro) ♥️

PS: don’t forget to hydrate yourself, wear a mask and stay safe haha xxxx.

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-> From: @driesendotkom (Marie)

Dear cille,

the reason i‘m writing this is to simply say thank you. thank you for being such a stable part of the fandom. every time i go into the tag i know i will see you there and it makes me smile every time. i can’t tell you how many hours i spent reading every one of your song analysis. even now a year after season 3 ended i find myself going back to them now and then to reminisce and relive those moments all over again.

i also want to say thank you for being such a kind and welcoming person. you care so much about the people you are close to. you are so easy to talk to and you make the people around you feel comfortable instantly. you brought a little bit of hygge into my life and one more time i want to say thank you 💛

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-> From: @driesenrobbe (Becca)

my dear, sweet, cille! you never fail to make me smile and im beyond happy that we became mutuals! im sure i’ve already said this a million times before but you really do have the biggest heart and i couldn’t thank you enough for all the love and support you constantly share to everybody in the wtfock fandom. plus the talent you possess... girllllll i love seeing your edits and reading your posts (honestly your mind is just wowowowow, it’s on a whole other level of incredible and i hope you know just how wonderful you are). also the way you always write entire essays in the tags of other posts... like you really do take the time to make everyone feel so welcomed and loved, and I’m sending you an infinite amount of love and appreciation in return! you really are the sweetest, most caring person who deserves all the happiness in the world, an actual ray of sunshine! i hope you know how loved and cherished you are, and that good vibes are always being sent your way. Many hugs and kusjes, ilysm!!!! <3

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-> From: @mijnlief (Eline)

Dear Cille,

This year has been a weird one, but I do know that it has also been one of the best because of meeting you. In such a short time we became so close, and I am so grateful to have met you during these weird times. We are so alike in many ways and I love that so much. Our Skype conversations are my favorite and the essays you send me about my writing and just about me being me always make me feel happy and loved. You are the kindest and most generous person ever. I hope you know how special you are. I am so proud of you for everything you have achieved this year and for choosing yourself in situations where it got hard to make a choice in the first place. I know I tell you that everyday, but it doesn’t hurt to say it again right here. I hope this post makes you smile, because you deserve that so much for just being who you are. You bring happiness to all of my days and I can’t wait to hug you one day soon when everything in the world calms down again. I love you lots! 🧡 Eline

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-> From: @onzeziggy (Laurien)

My sweetest Cille, where do I even begin? I suggest we should just begin from the very beginning and I’m sorry in advance if this is going to be a long, sappy text! But now that I have the chance (shout out to Rodrigo) for saying everything I want, I’m not able to tell you how long this will take.

So Cille, I still remember very clearly the first time I saw your account appearing on my dash. It was a music analysis from one of the songs from season 3. I was so amazed by it, because I could imagine how much time it takes to make it and observe every little detail in a single clip. I immediately fell in love with the concept of it and one week later, when you posted another one, my mouth dropped to the floor. Another music analysis? From the same person? Who is she and how do I become her friend? After that second post, I immediately started following you and became your little fangirl. I don’t lie when I say I was waiting every week for a new update of your incredible music analysis nor when I say I loved every single one of them (and still do). I know I already said this a million times, but your words of telling what was going on in every clip, about the emotions present in them, and how the music blended all of it together… No one, and I mean no one could have done it any better! I will forever be grateful for those posts and I want to thank you once again for wanting to share them and your talent with us!

After the music analysis adventure, your picture edits catched my eye. I love them so so much and I also took some creation of it for making some myself. Still, I was this little fangirl, knowing your name is Cille, but also wanting to know so much more about the person behind one of my favorite blogs. And now, during this hiatus, I can say I’ve got to know you and I couldn’t be any happier about it! Starting with little comments in each other’s tags, having little chats in the comment sections to screaming about a possible drawing of Robbe from Sander on their one year anniversary. And look at us now, reblogging almost every post and writing essays in each other’s tags hahah! Honestly, it keeps me alive during these times and I’m so glad I can do this together with you! I live for your attacks! Aaaah now that I’m talking about an attack, the fact that you have a dimples post ready is making me so excited and I think about it every day! We both know what’s important in love and life and that’s Robbe’s dimples! But this right here shows once again what an amazing sweet person you are! No one on here has ever done anything like this for me before, so I can’t thank you enough for this and all the other things you did and still do for me! And the privilege I have to be able to call you my friend warms my heart <33

I’m going to end this with a little quote Robbe wrote in one of his Instagram posts. When I read it again a couple of days ago, I immediately thought of you and what we’ve been through together the last few weeks :’)) Once again, thank you so much for everything you do for me and for everyone here in this fandom and being the amazing person you are! You deserve the whole world for it!

“Sometimes it’s like we just met yesterday, but other days it seems like I already know you my whole life, I love you Cille!” <33

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I hope you enjoyed this💛 If you didn't know this community loved you yet (and I don't think that was possible), now you definetly do.

Extra: I'd like to thank once again everyone that took part it this surprise, you are all the sweetest for taking some time to write this and to help me with it! Thank you so so much✨

[lonelypond]

A Coffeeshop Christmas Carol, Ch. 4

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.1K, 4/6

Summary: Maki and Nico struggle with their working relationship, Eli continues overthinking, and Umi saves the afternoon.

Read The Darn Script

Nico enjoyed working on sets. A ever changing group of students keeping up a steady bustle. And progress. Every action made a show one step closer to opening night. Right now, Nico thought, sitting in the back row, staring at the half built unpainted framework of the Christmas Carol backdrop, it could be any show, any era, anywhere, just waiting for actors to step onstage, the lights to come up and the audience to be brought into a world created from imagination. Amazing.

“Umi said you’d be here. You weren’t answering texts.” Maki’s voice announced as the door slammed against the wall.

So much for the theatre being a hushed, hallowed space. Nico giggled, refusing to look at the redhead who slumped into a seat one away from Nico and held out several pages. “Here’s your duet.”

“Duet?” The play was full of them. Nico thought it had been a clever touch. Scrooge gets a solo at the start, then duets, then a finale full of everyone’s voices.

“Marley-Scrooge. Didn’t you say it was the heart of the play?”

Had Nico said that? Probably. “What did you think of Nico’s play?”

“Haven’t read it.”

Nico spun in her seat, “Haven’t read it?”

Maki shrugged, “Not in the mood.”

Nico didn’t know she could grind her teeth, “How can you write music without knowing anything about the play?”

“Scrooge hates people, loves money, ghosts scare the love of money out of him so he reconsiders loving people. It’s the basic Dickens one, right?” The arched eyebrow had enough attitude to out diva a theatre full of leads. Nico had been enjoying the quiet, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“There” and Nico drew out every word, “are character nuances specific to Nico’s script.”

Maki blinked, “You do know composing is different from writing an essay about your writing choices. Just take a look.” Maki poked Nico’s nose with the score sheets.

Nico batted them away, “Play it for Nico..”

“I’m busy.”

“Nico is also busy.”

“I’m doing you a favor.”

That was too much for Nico, “You’re doing your job. Composer in residence. Assigned to provide music for Nico’s lyrics so that Nico can showcase her A Christmas Carol adaptation during the Christmas pageant.” Nico stood, stepping into the gap between them, “Nico spent years working on this. Show some respect.” Nico ripped the pages out of Maki’s hand, turned and stormed out of the theatre.

That hadn’t gone any of the ways Maki had anticipated.

###

Eli shuffled the cards, sitting cross legged on the floor of her studio. Let them pick? Would random be fairer? Was she overthinking? Why had Nozomi perked up so much when Nico had mentioned Umi singing? Shaking herself, Eli glanced at herself in the mirror, took out the scrunchie holding her ponytail together and let her hair fall. She was doing her students no favors getting so distracted. It had been so nice to flirt, to have someone NOTICING her. It had also been nice having someone concerned about simple things like if she was eating. It was too easy to get into the dance masochist mindset, pushing everything aside to spend all available time and energy on art. Eli had grown up in that environment, scrambling for attention and parts, obsessing over form and appearance, seeing every other dancer as a rival. It had brought out all her worst traits and when the opportunity to teach at an advanced level here had opened up, Eli had packed up her life as soon as she opened the job offer email. But it had still been lonely. The students were respectful, but responded to Eli’s professionalism by stepping back. And while there had been a whirl of introducing the faculty events, Eli’s commitment to the barre didn’t allow for much socializing.

And if she didn’t decide which students got which dances soon, she would have even less time for socializing.

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Maki was in the undecorated, anti holiday booth, now labelled Professor Scrooge’s corner, facing the side wall, perpendicular to the entrance. In front of her, Nico’s script, a seemingly innocuous pile of paper. Her coffee was cold. It was obviously a slow afternoon because Nozomi had seemingly limitless time to stare at her. And was now approaching with a cup of fresh coffee. Nozomi sat down, dipped a finger in Maki’s old cup, and winced, “Missed opportunity there. Was a good pot. Brought you new.”

Maki sighed. “Thanks.”

Nozomi pushed the script with a finger, “Want me to read it to ya? We could make it a bedtime story kinda thing.”

Maki actually recoiled, her chair colliding with the wall, her face pale. Nozomi giggled.

Nozomi picked up a couple of pages, scanning them, “Hey, this is cute.”

Maki frowned. Cutesy Christmas had been her ongoing nightmare for the past two years.

“You’re going to hate it.” Nozomi winked, “There’s decorations everywhere.”

“Scrooge wouldn’t.”

“No, but Cratchitt does. A little oasis of merry. And then there’s Fred.”

Maki found herself willing an influx of student customers, noisy and boisterous and thirsty. Freds. They refused to appear on cue.

“What did Christmas do to you?” Nozomi wondered, this time out loud.

This had been a mistake, Maki realized. Too public. But if Maki had tried reading in her studio with the piano right there, the script would have had no chance at all. Maybe she could sneak into an empty classroom or the back of the theatre when Nico was finished with today’s building activity.

“Thank you for the coffee.” Maki put the script back in her bag, stood, picked up the coffee and fled. It was in a ceramic mug.

Nozomi leaned back, thoughtful. She wasn’t having much recent success with keeping an audience.

###

Nico sat at the rehearsal piano, the music Maki had written propped up. Inhale. Find the keys, play through once slowly to make sure she remembered which keys...there were a lot, this would be slow going. After a tangle mid keyboard over a question of chording, Nico closed her eyes, groaned, inhaled, and began again…

“Nico?” Umi Sonoda’s voice rolled in from the back of the theatre Nico had reclaimed after a quick walk along the Riverside trail to vent some anger.

“Hi, Umi. Nico will be with you in a minute. Or an hour.”

Umi had quickly reached the piano at her usual pace and now leaned over Nico’s shoulder. “Would you like me to play for you?”

“Do you have your violin?”

Umi shook her head, “Not with me and I won’t do it justice with my skill on the piano, but if you’ll forgive me sightreading, I can play it for you. If that would help.”

“Nico could have managed, but if you really want to do Nico a favor.”

Umi smiled as Nico vacated the bench at high speed, “If that is your wish.”

“Nico’s wish was for Maki to play it when she dropped it off and to have read Nico’s play but at least now Nico has something to audition actors with so Nico…

“Is Maki a problem?” Umi read through the pages once, returned them to the stand and began the sprightly lament.

Nico had one hand on Umi’s shoulder and was tapping along on the piano, shook her head, “Nico’s got it. Nothing a little more communication can’t fix. Nico likes to let artists find their stride.”

“Wise. Maki is dedicated, but new to collaborations.”

“Nico could tell.”

“How is she doing with the choreographer, Ms. Ayase?” Umi continued the conversation without interfering with the smooth flow of music. “I heard there was some friction over Maki’s decision to highlight the works of Duke Ellington.”

“Something which Nico supports. And I’ve been talking to Eli. She’s nervous about trusting her students so Nico’s been encouraging her. Newbie teacher nerves.”

“Ah.” Umi had played through twice, “You really do have things under control.”

“Of course, Nico is always on top.” Nico’s casual tone matched her lean against the piano, half paying attention, half planning duet combinations for the students who’d signed up to audition.

Umi choked on saliva.

That caught Nico’s attention and she quickly reviewed what she’d said, then grinned. “Nico is always on top of any…situation, Professor Sonoda. The Conservatory is a family institution, what else could Nico mean?”

Umi could feel the wink in the air and knew she deserved it.

“We will be avoiding the works of Cole Porter at the next gathering.”

Nico giggled, “Play the song again, please. Nico wants to sing.”

“Scrooge or Marley? I’ll take the other part.”

This was going to be a memorable afternoon. The prim Umi Sonoda in an almost playful mood, willing to duet with Nico on a Yazawa-Nishikino original.

“Marley.” The trickier part, especially as Nishikino had written it, surprising Nico who thought the lead would be the obvious stronger part. But no, Marley had a much wider range and so many emotional layers.

“Bah Humbug.” Umi declared in a ringing, stentorian tone that Nico would have never let pass from an actor on stage and the duet began.

###

A single dorm room had seemed like an ideal sanctuary for an only child like Shizuku, but right now, a passel of roommates would have been a welcome distraction from worrying about tomorrow’s audition for Professor Yazawa. Shizuku’s phone went off, she grabbed it like a lariat around the neck of a bucking bronco. Text. Kasumi.

K: Kasumin has dessert, let me up.

S: Trying to fatten me up before auditions.

K: ; )

S: I’ll be right down.

###

Maki had been staring at the text for half of Yo Yo Ma’s Bach Cello concerto, so an hour. Send or erase. But do it now. Closing her eyes, she pictured Nico storming out of the theatre, anger in her ruby eyes. As she kept reviewing the scene in her head, Maki realized she’d recognized hurt too. Auditions were tomorrow. Maki didn’t know much about the practicalities of theatre, but the day before anything was usually stressful. Biting the inside of her lip, Maki sent the message.

M: Christmas is still hard, but your script deserves my full attention. I’m sorry. I have another song ready for you. Are you still on campus? I can run it over.

Instant ping.

N: Nico is at home, could you please bring it by? A second song for auditions would be a big help to Nico.

Drop and run. Maki could do that. She didn’t want to spend another night in her studio, falling asleep at the piano. She could pick up a pizza to take home and then read the rest of Nico’s script.

M: Sure.

N: Nico appreciates it. My apartment is the upper floor of 2525 Cherry Blossom Lane.

N: if you haven’t eaten, Nico has leftovers.

M: I was going to pick up a pizza.

N: Save it for another night. Home cooked is better.

Maki grabbed her long coat, pulling a black beanie over her hair. Couldn’t hurt to be polite, could it?

###

Nico opened the door. There was warmth. And no holiday decorations, which was a relief. Maki had walked over, taking her time, which was a more than leisurely enough journey to be chilled. Nico still looked professorial, with a pink, wool cowl neck sweater and a ruffle skirt. Maki felt like an undergrad in her jeans and t-shirt, although her long gray cashmere coat could crash Carnegie Hall and fit into an opening night crowd.

“Hi, Maki! Thanks for running the music over.”

Maki nodded, glancing around the small apartment. The decorating scheme leaned cozy cute and pink, with pictures of Nico and people who looked a lot like Nico artfully placed around the room. A red framed black and white print was over the fireplace. A cute, gamine woman in black capri pants, a white turtleneck, and a wide belt with a star in the center, slinking playfully forward.

“Who’s that?” Maki asked.

“You don’t know?” Nico clucked as she shut the door, “Rita Moreno, Nico’s hero.”

Maki tilted her head, “Why?”

“EGOT.”

“Egret?”

Nico sighed, “Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony...only 15 people have won all of them.”

“Impressive.”

Nico shrugged, not really interested in things she already knew. “Sit on the couch, Nico will cook food, if you feel like playing what you’ve composed for Nico, the keyboard’s right there. Nico was working on the duet.”

“Do you want to win awards?” Maki was curious.

“Well, the Pulitzer will look nice in front of that print. They’ll probably give us each one.”

Such confidence. Maki had no response to it so continued the find out more about Nico quest.

“Have you always wanted to be a playwright?”

Maki heard Nico turn something and then Nico was standing in the archway of the kitchen. She’d added an apron with patchwork pink hearts scattered over it and was holding a whisk, “If you’re interviewing Nico, can it wait ‘til after the cooking? Nico is a master chef but omelettes take concentration.”

“Sorry.” Maki grabbed a pink pillow, also ruffled, and propped her chin on it.

###

Not an omelette, but omurice.

“Itadakimasu. Nico said and Maki muttered the same, pleasantly surprised by the Japanese custom.

“Childhood comfort food.” Nico smiled as Maki dug into her serving ravenously, “It reminded my mom of Tokyo.”

“When did she move here?”

“She and my dad did when I was a baby, before my siblings were born. Her job transferred her.”

“My family goes back and forth. My Dad is still on the board of the hospital we own there, but actually practices medicine here. I was born in Chicago though, he teaches at Northwestern.”

“Chicago is a great theatre town. Nico has visited once or twice.”

“Yeah, I always tried to see what the Goodman was staging, when I wasn’t studying.” Medical school and the accelerated undergrad program that had gotten her into medical school had left Maki almost no free time.

“Nico applied to Northwestern’s theatre department but got the job here instead.”

Natural pause in the conversation, both women eating and remembering separate experiences in Chicago.

Before things got awkward again, Maki decided to brave the thing she needed to address. Scraping her fork over the plate, she dove. “I didn’t mean to disrespect the work you put into A Christmas Carol.”

A pause. Nico leaned back on her couch, her legs underneath her, observing the woman fidgeting three feet down the couch from her, “Nico is listening.”

Maki scrubbed her hands through her hair in a manic burst, then sped through her next sentences, “I’ve just been trying so hard to avoid anything Christmas related and that’s nearly impossible this time of year and every time I open up your script, there’s Scrooge feeling the same way that I do about decorations and Fred being impossibly cheerful and…”

“You want Scrooge to take his cane and tear through decorations.”

Maki nodded, looking a little sheepish.

“Read the script. Maybe he does.” Nico grabbed both their plates and hustled to the kitchen, scraping them off. Maki heard the sound of the sink being filled. Nico wasn’t coming back right away. Maki decided to lean in the kitchen doorway and watch as Nico filled the dishwasher.

“Always stay ahead of chores.” Nico said in her best NPR announcer voice.

“Not looking for life advice.”

Nico chuckled, “That’s the polite way to say ‘you’re not my mother.’”

Maki laughed.

“Nico needs to get ahead before auditions. There’s a freezer full of meals, two months worth of instant coffee, every kind of medicinal tea Nico might need, and emergency brownie batter.”

“Are shows that complicated?”

Nico turned, eyes narrowed, “Have you never been part of a play or opera or…”

Maki shook her head.

Nico grimaced, “Oh, this will be fun for Nico.”

Maki was surprised by the sarcasm, and hastened to reassure Nico. “I’ll be fine. I’m very flexible.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Nico doesn’t need flexible; Nico needs prepared.”

Maki couldn’t imagine a situation involving music she couldn’t resolve, prepared or not. “Like I said, I’ll be fine. It’s a small ensemble.”

“Students are relying on us.” Suddenly Nico was right under Maki’s nose, eyes glowing like laser sights, “Nico doesn’t need “fine” or emo Christmas pity parties, Nico needs polished and professional. We have to put together a show over four weeks that contain several holidays. Fine is not what Nico wants to hear.”

“Don’t worry.” Maki stepped away from Nico.

Nico turned back to the sink, “Nico will worry less when you’ve read the script and finished the songs.”

###

Maki finished the song with a flourish. Nico had been unable to fight off a smile while listening so Maki thought she might have earned some points back.

“That was funnier than Nico expected.”

“Scrooge creeping up the stairs afraid of the dark should be funny.” Maki put the keyboard back on the low table and flopped back on Nico’s couch. “Plus, it’s a perfect moment for Scrooge’s charm to show through.”

“Scrooge isn’t charming. Scrooge is snarling.”

“And charming.”

“You’re going to make this gay again.”

“I didn’t see a song for the 20 questions type game at Fred’s party.”

“That’s because that scene gets the fun, flirty Blindman’s bluff song, which you would know if…”

“Maki read Nico’s script.”They said in unison. And laughed. Maki relaxed, just slightly.

Nico flopped back, turning her head and meeting Maki’s gaze. “I know it’s a lot and I appreciate what you’ve done so far.”

“It’s my job.” A soft, calm light in brilliant amethyst eyes, a satisfied private smile..

“It is.” A peaceful moment, quiet enough to hear the wall clock ticking, and then Nico’s face became a mask of horror, “And Nico’s job starts extra early tomorrow.” Nico stood, “C’mon, Nico will drive you home.”

Maki glanced at the time, past midnight. “I can walk home.”

“No one walks home alone on Nico’s watch, especially not in that neighborhood you live in.” As quickly as she said that, Nico had her coat on, keys in hand. “And the faster you get home, the faster songs get written.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Maki grabbed her coat, feeling an odd flutter as Nico held the door open.

“If you finish the Christmas Present duet by breakfast, Nico will give you a 24 hour pass about the script thing.”

“Don’t I get to sleep?”

“Nico will sleep for you.”

“You’re a tyrant, aren’t you.”

There was a wink and an arm slipped through hers and Maki was being skillfully guided down the stairs.

“Nico is a winner.”

Maki was beginning to believe it.

A/N: It's been a week. Or three. But I finished a chapter. Hope your Spring has something bright in it.

[moodyvalentinestories]

A Holly Jolly Christ-Mess. Part 8. | Rachel x Hunt

08: Coffee with the Family

“Hallelujah, everybody say cheese. Merry Christmas from the family!” – Merry Christmas from the Family (Robert Earl Keene)

Summary: Rachel talks to her family. Things don’t go so well.

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Rachel Fields

Words: ~ 1,800 words

Notes: Me? Incapable of writing healthy family dynamics? Duuuh.

Also, I’m a little too busy for my liking right now so I apologise if I’m not doing a great job replying to replies and reblogs and stuff at the moment. Still very much appreciate all of it, though. You’re all so lovely and kind 😭💖

❥ Moodyvalentine’s Masterlist ❥ Christmas Series Masterlist

Rachel took a sip of her gingerbread-flavoured coffee as she glanced at her phone on the table. Only a few more minutes until Lawrence would be there. It had taken quite some effort to convince him to meet her in a coffee shop rather than at the hotel, but she absolutely did not want to face her parents. Though she was more likely to give in to her little brother’s wishes, she also knew that he could be made to see reason.

Unfortunately, there was one thing she hadn’t considered – that Lawrence might not come alone. She groaned when she turned to look at the door when she’d heard it open and saw three people walk in instead of one. Great.

At least they were in public. If there had ever been a time that Rachel was thankful for their incessant need to appear like the perfect family to the outside world, it was now. They wouldn’t dare make a scene with this many people around.

Then again, they didn’t know any of those people, and they weren’t likely to ever see any of them again. Would that change things? She hoped not, but one never knew…

Her mother, Erica, spotted her first, directing the other two’s attention to the table Rachel was sitting at. A table for two, but big enough for four if one were to steal two more chairs from other tables. She took another sip of her drink as her family walked towards her, then got up from her chair to greet them.

Lawrence was the fastest, pulling her into a hug to whisper, “I’m sorry. They insisted on coming along.”

She wanted to be angry, but she knew he could never defy their parents – just like she could never be mad at him for very long. “It’s okay. I’ll survive… hopefully.”

He pulled away with an apologetic smile, letting their mother take his place. “It’s good to see you, Rachel,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her daughter.

“You too, mum,” she replied, though it didn’t sound very sincere. It wasn’t. Her mother, however, didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she at the very least didn’t say anything. Good. Non-confrontational, for now, was good. Maybe this wouldn’t get out of hand, after all.

Once her mother stepped away, her father took her by surprise when he hugged her as well. Then again, it probably shouldn’t have. Even though he’d never apologised for the hurtful things he’d said to her the last time they’d spoken, in his mind, he probably thought she had already forgiven him. Which, granted, was her own fault for always forgiving them so readily. Or at least having done so in the past.

But she wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet, anyway. She refused to be the bad guy who started the argument. Though there would be an argument soon enough, and she had a sneaking suspicion that they’d find a way to blame it on her, either way.

They all stood in awkward silence for a moment, until Erica cleared her throat and spoke up. “So… Richard, dear, would you go order us some coffee?” She looked at her daughter for a moment, then turned to Lawrence. “You should go with him so he doesn’t mess up my order again.”

The two men nodded, then disappeared towards the counter. Erica sat down in the vacant chair across from her daughter.

“How are you, Rachel?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine. How’s your marriage?” So much for not starting any arguments. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her mother gave her a thin-lipped smile. “No, you shouldn’t have. But Richard shouldn’t have said what he did, either.”

“Which part? The one about my going away being the last nail in the coffin for your relationship? Or the one where he said I shouldn’t ever come back if I leave for LA? Or the one—”

“I get it. He was an ass, but he is sorry.”

Rachel huffed. “Did he tell you that? Or are you just assuming he is?”

“We didn’t come here to fight.”

She took a deep breath. Her mother clearly was trying to make sure she wouldn’t start anything. “That’s great and all, but that doesn’t change anything about the fact that I’m leaving on Saturday. I already made plans, and you shouldn’t have come without checking with me first.”

“We did write you a letter,” her mother argued.

“To which I didn’t respond,” Rachel countered. “Didn’t that tip you off?”

Two mugs were placed on the table with a little too much force, some of their contents spilling out onto the wooden surface.

“If anything, it showed us just how necessary coming here was,” her father said as he pulled up a chair from a table nearby and sat down. “You’ve only become more defiant since you’ve left, and someone has to—”

“Richard,” Erica interrupted him. “Calm down. No fighting, remember?” She said and motioned to her son, who was carrying over another chair to their table.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. Something very clearly was up because while she knew her mother wasn’t very fond of confrontation, she usually wasn’t dead set on avoiding it, either. “Okay, just tell me why exactly you’re here. I still have one more essay to write before the break, and I really don’t have time for this.”

“Look at her! She’s choosing her idiotic pursuit of a worthless degree over us again. But I’m the bad guy,” her father said, shaking his head. “She doesn’t even care about family.”

Oh, that was rich, coming from him. As if he had any right to talk. About family! Fucking family! He’d never given half a shit about family. “I do care, just not about your idea of family. Now, can you just please tell me what’s going on?”

“I got into Oxford,” her brother said as he sat down on the chair he’d just carried over. “I’m leaving next fall, and I just wanted one last family Christmas before I leave.” His shoulders slumped. “But I guess that was too much to ask.”

God damn it.

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to come up with the right response. Of course, she was happy for him. But the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Not necessarily at Lawrence – though she sure as hell didn’t appreciate the fact that he’d been behind all of this – but more so at her parents. Because it seemed they were fine with it.

Her brother moving to a whole other country was just fine, but her moving to another state to pursue her dreams made her evil incarnate? Oh, fuck no. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry I messed everything up,” Lawrence said, looking at the cup in his hands before placing it on the table and getting up. “I think… I think I’m just going to go before I can make it any worse.”

The moment he was out of earshot, Richard turned to his daughter. “Are you happy? Now you’ve upset him again. Did you know he was devastated when you didn’t show last Christmas? Of course you didn’t. Because you didn’t even bother to call.”

“Fuck you, dad,” Rachel said as she got up to follow her brother.

“Excuse me? What did you just say?” her father said, his voice loud enough to make the people around them look up.

Rachel, however, ignored him, and went outside to find her brother. He hadn’t gone far, only just across the street, where he sat on a park bench. She sat down beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gingerly putting her arm around his shoulders. “I am happy for you, you should know that.”

He shook his head. “Clearly not happy enough or you wouldn’t insist on fighting with mum and dad.”

She wanted to argue that it wasn’t all her fault, though, this time, maybe it had been. She sighed. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin your Christmas, but—”

“You have other plans. Yeah, you told me,” he said, looking up at her. “I want you to know that they said you knew. That we’d come, I mean.”

Maybe she should have been surprised, but she really wasn’t. And they dared accuse her of not caring about family! This was their mess, and it wasn’t her job to clean it up. But she would… the only question was how. She still remained firm on not wanting to give up on her trip with Thomas. She absolutely wouldn’t.

She sighed. There was really only one thing she could do. “Come back inside. Let’s at least finish our coffee.”

He nodded, and they both went back into the coffee shop. The tension between Rachel and her parents was almost palpable but, somehow, they managed to remain mostly civil – for Lawrence’s sake – until all of them had finished their drinks.

Richard and Lawrence were out the door first, Erica right behind them, but Rachel held her back.

“Mum, a word?”

Her mother nodded, then told her husband she’d be right with them before turning back to her daughter.

“I’m sorry for making a scene. And I do want to make up for hurting Lawrence’s feelings. I can’t change my plans for Christmas but…” She clenched her jaw. She did not want to say what she said next, but she did feel guilty, and maybe – just maybe – they could pull themselves together for a couple of hours and make this work. They had managed to just now, hadn’t they? “…but maybe we could have a Pre-Christmas on Friday. My last class ends at four, and we could have dinner and all that then?”

Her mother smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She herself doubted that anything good would come of it. “That sounds lovely. I’ll make the arrangements.” She hugged her daughter one more time before following her husband and son back to their hotel.

Rachel sighed, and pulled out her phone, immediately calling Thomas. He picked up after the first ring. “How did it go?”

“Great. Absolutely… great,” she said unenthusiastically. “Do you think we could switch flights? I’m afraid I won’t make it to the early morning flight and…”

She heard a heavy exhale on the other end of the line. Shit. He was not as on board with her seeing her family as he’d said he was. “Are you going to make it at all?”

“Yes,” she said. “I told you before: I’m not letting them ruin our Christmas.”

There was a short silence before he finally said, “Alright. I’ll make the necessary amendments to our bookings. See you on Saturday.”

“Wait, I—” Rachel started but was cut off by the sound of him hanging up. Wonderful. Maybe she really was just incapable of not upsetting the people she cared about.

Tags: @lilyofchoices​ @trappedinfandoms​ @flyawayboo​ @alleksa16​ @silversparrow02​ @hopelessromantic1352​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ @oneemofungirl​

[hphmbang2020]

A Snadger Story

Merry Christmas, @slytherincursebreaker !!

From your secret santa, @thewasp1995

Elia you know that hearts never lie

A scribbling of a quill scratched the line out.

“No that’s not it.”

Elia, where the mind rests the heart never sleeps

Were I never to wake to see you, tears I would weep

Another scribbling of the quill.

“Damn. Why can’t I find the right lines to this?” muttered a boy of average height with severe but handsome features and neatly combed brown hair.

Making sure no one else was listening in (the Slytherin dungeons were not very well lit and contained plenty of snoops) Felix dipped the quill back into the ink and attempted to resume his little project once more. But this wasn’t just another monotonous essay from Professor Snape….it was far more personal.

Felix Rosier had to resist blushing when he thought of Elia Westerling. A beautiful, vivacious Hufflepuff girl who hailed from Essex. The House of the Badger was often written off as uninspiring or even useless by some critics from other houses, but this particular Hufflepuff was someone he would never soon forget. Slim, curvy, with raven hair and hazel eyes, Elia had a personality to match- confident and self-assured but also playful and a tad mischievous which made her any boy’s match if they tried hitting on her. Felix had never tried himself, but by Merlin he wanted to and rather than embarrass himself with a cheesy pickup line, perhaps a poem would be able to better catch her attention.

Then there was the matter of her family- she was of mostly French and Turkish descent though she was English on her mother’s side, the fact was wizarding blood only went back two generations- two of her grandparents had been muggles. This made it that much harder to confess his feelings, his parents would certainly frown. He could already hear his older cousin, Evan admonishing him.

Intermarriage dilutes the magical blood, Felix. Even talking to one of those wretched creatures is an affront to everything we stand for.

Even with all this in mind, Felix had long decided not to pay much attention to his family’s pure blood prejudices. Elia was a witch that was indisputable, and a damn good one. He wasn’t going to let something so trivial get in the way of at least taking a shot. Besides, Evan had held onto that ideology with an iron fist and look where he ended up? Buried six feet under, killed by Mad-Eye Moody himself.

No, he wouldn’t let remnants of the Dark Lord’s memory bully him into deciding what he wanted, and that was Elia. The bigger question remained, however: how would he give her this poem?

“Alright, let me see…”

“Whatcha doin?”

The sound of a young girl’s voice made him jump almost ten feet in the air, spilling ink all over the desk.

“Merlin’s beard, Allison! Where do you get off sneaking up on people like that?”

“I don’t know,” the girl shrugged. “I was just bored and wanted to see what you were up to.”

Felix sighed. Allison Garrison had been nothing but a pain in his arse from the day she had arrived at Hogwarts. It was his first year being a prefect but the last he expected was for them to be so…blunt, or at least that was the case with Allison. She constantly talked back, caused mischief, and lost more house points from Professor Snape in one month than any other Slytherin in an entire year. His memory of his own time at age eleven was somewhat hazy but he was also quite certain that he had been able to keep his mouth shut for the most part.

This first year held no such ability.

“It’s just homework I have to do. Nothing that need concern you, Garrison.”

“It doesn’t look like homework.”

Good heavens, this girl just won’t let up.

“And how can you tell?”

“You keep crossing things out. Over and over again. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t take you that long to write a sentence for a Potions essay. And you’re mumbling constantly.”

Despite the negative attributes he associated with the first year Slytherin girl, Felix had to admit she could be quite clever and extraordinarily perceptive for someone her age. It was impressive and at times such as these, annoying.

“Whatever I’m doing, it’s still none of your business, Garrison. Now go.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that Hufflepuff girl you’re always staring at-”

Felix cut her off with a temporary silence charm before lifting it.

“Must you always be a problem?”

“How’s it my problem you can’t tell a girl that you like her?” Allison responded sarcastically with a hint of a smirk. “Oh, I can picture it now. A snake and a badger together in never ending love. A snadger! Yeah, that’s what I’ll call it. Snadger!”

“Garrison, unless you want detention, I suggest you take your prattling somewhere else.”

That threat seemed to finally work as she had served a few already and would not enjoy another session pickling toad guts with Professor Snape. Nevertheless, she continued to taunt him as she left the room skipping and singing, “Snadger, Snadger, Snadger” all the way out of the common room.

“The little first year is going to give me an aneurysm someday,” Felix muttered to himself, attempting to return to his poem. With any luck, he could finish it before dinner and give it to Elia then.

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

Felix ran a hand through his hair as he entered the Great Hall, all abuzz with activity as it usually was. He knew Elia liked it that way, but he didn’t want to make it seem like he had done it on purpose. Better to be casually aloof and spontaneous than give away it was all part of a calculated plan.

Making his way over to the Hufflepuff table, he received some confused even hard stares from some of them. It was no secret that Slytherin was the least liked among the four houses and while the puffs were not quite as hostile as the Gryffindors, there was a clear stark contrast between ideologies: hard work versus ambition, fair play versus cunning, honesty versus doing whatever it took to win regardless of moral implications. Thankfully, Elia did not share such sentiments- they had been friends since first year after all, but trying to confess your feelings to girl was still nerve racking all the same.

He tried to calm himself, taking a deep breath through his nostrils.

Just ask for a moment of her time, which she’ll give you. Read her the poem, ask her to Hogsmeade and it’s over. Easy right?

Before he could debate further in his head, an odd sight made him stop in his tracks. A first year Slytherin girl that looked painfully familiar was already chatting away to Elia of all people. Feeling his stomach drop three feet, Felix rushed over as quickly as he could.

“Of all things…what on earth is she doing talking to Elia?” he muttered.

When he reached the scene, the horror reached new levels.

“Oh, hello, Felix,” Elia said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I was just talking to one of your first years. She’s quite interesting you might say.”

“Interesting how?” Felix asked trying to keep his tone as light as possible.

“Oh, I told her everything,” Allison boasted but with a dangerous twinkle in her eye. “I told her you’re my prefect of course, how you keep trying to get me to stay out of trouble, the incident with Devil’s Snare, Merula, even giving me detention. She told me that you guys have been friends for over five years now.”

“That is true,” he replied tersely. Elia seemed like she was trying not to laugh but this was not unfolding the way he wanted it to. The mischievous look on Garrison’s face only spelled further trouble.

“So why haven’t you told her, yet? You know? About the po-mmhmhmmmff”

It was then that Felix’s patience ran out as he covered Allison’s mouth with his hand and spun her away from the Hufflepuff table.

“Very nice to see you, Elia,” he said forcing a smile that was more like a grimace. “But I do believe we must be going.”

He began leading Allison away but the Hufflepuff girl stopped him.

“Felix, it’s okay, let her go. I’d like to speak with you in private.”

Such a calm, reassuring tone from Elia, who rarely turned down an opportunity to tease him, helped deescalate the situation. He released Elia, but not before she licked his hand with her tongue.

“Ack! I’m not finished with you, Garrison. Stay here until I return.”

“Whatever you say,” Allison responded in that same sing-song tone. “Have fun, snadgers!”

Felix had to be practically led away from the Great Hall from the eyes of other prying Hufflepuffs, still mortified from Allison’s meddling.

She knows. She knows that I like her and she’s going to let me down easy. All because that stupid first year couldn’t shut her mouth for two seconds.

Upon exiting, Felix heaved a heavy sigh, figuring it was best to rip the bandage off quickly before the inevitable rejection came.

“Elia, I’m sorry about her,” he said. “I wanted to tell you myself, but she beat me to it, I guess.”

“Felix, you don’t need to apologize,” the Hufflepuff soothed him and then her infamous grin spread across her face like a Cheshire cat. “The truth is, I’ve known for some time.”

“Wait…you were already aware of how I felt?”

“Boys are hardly subtle,” Elia laughed. “Even a Slytherin such as yourself. I’ve caught you staring more than a few times.”

“So, why not say anything?”

“Well for one, listening to Allison jabber on like that was kind of cute.”

Felix couldn’t prevent the pink from spreading across his face.

“She’s getting detention for the rest of the year,” he muttered.

Elia placed a soft, feminine hand over his cheek, turning it to face her. This caused him to go from pink all the way to beet red.

“Felix, don’t punish her. She wasn’t trying to embarrass you; it was actually quite sweet. Nothing she told me was anything I didn’t know already. But she put in a good word for you, saying how you were a great prefect and how you wanted to ask me out with a poem. She thinks the world of you.”

He crumpled the piece of paper in his robe pocket.

“She does, eh?”

“Yes. And I don’t need a poem and an elaborate ritual to be convinced to go out with you,” she teased. “I’ll gladly go to Hogsmeade with you next weekend. Meet me in the courtyard at two o’clock.”

And then, without warning, Elia kissed him on the cheek and winked at him as she walked back into the Great Hall to rejoin the other Hufflepuffs.

Touching the spot where he had received the kiss, Felix proceeded to shuffle back towards the Slytherin table in a bit of a daze, wondering if he had actually just scored a date with the girl of his dreams until a loud, familiar voice snapped him back to reality.

“Felix?”

The Slytherin prefect looked down and saw the little eleven year old girl staring up at him. Functionality returned to his brain, remembering that he had instructed Allison to remain in the Great Hall until he returned.

“You told me to stay here. What’s my punishment?”

Looking into the eyes of the precocious first year, Felix knew she had tried to play matchmaker on purpose and true to Slytherin form, used her own brand of cunning to do it. But more so than that, he also knew that Allison also genuinely tried to make him look good as well, appealing to Elia’s heart and sensibility. The newfound revelation that this first year not only tried to help but liked him was touching.

“You’re off the hook this time, Garrison. Enjoy your dinner.”

Allison mocked fake surprised, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“Wow! Thanks, Felix! You really are the best prefect ever.”

Giving him a big hug, she skipped away to her friend Rowan but before sitting down, she added, “Enjoy your snadger date! Snadger, snadger, snadger…”

Felix rolled his eyes but allowed a slight smile to cross his face.

He knew this would not be the first nor the last time Allison Garrison caused him trouble.

[edinburghllm]

About final essays, words and meaning

With the end of the teaching period, I must take advantage of the winter break to prepare my final assignments.

Except for the participation portfolio, which refers to our weekly contribution in the discussion forums of the courses, all assignments at the University of Edinburgh are submitted anonymously and evaluated by the teachers without them knowing who wrote it. I trust this is an appropriate and fair method of assessment since it rules out any allegations of bias in the awarding of grades.

The University sets a maximum number of words for the texts. In my country's legal education, culture is the opposite, as teachers tend to ask for a minimum number of pages for legal papers. It seems to me that at least some of my classmates from jurisdictions other than Scotland have also been trained to write a minimum number of words. In this context, to limit our legal writing during the LL.M. tends to be an extra challenge.

Although I am also in favour of simplifying the legal language in order to make it more accessible to the people, I must recognise that legal science is endowed with traditional expressions and technical terms that we cannot abandon. Depending on the subject, our argumentative burden may also require a longer explanation in order to demonstrate our point and convince the reader.

Therefore, to comply with the size limit, I find it essential to be able to synthesise arguments in a meaningful way and cut unnecessary words, such as adjectives unless when it is vital to emphasise a thought.

Moreover, the philosophy of language teaches us that words are loaded with meanings. Proper understanding of the meaning of words in the language in which one works - in this case, English - is essential for a lawyer.

Those who watched the Darkest Hour movie must remember a scene in which, after Churchill's fiery speech, Halifax states that "he mobilised the English language". In other words, lawyers must be able to mobilise the language to prove their points: words are our tools.

But being able to comply with the size limit is only half of the problem, and it is easier when we know what to say and how we want to say it. Therefore, the final work is also the time to show how well we understood the content taught throughout the semester and our ability to operationalise it.

Back home, the court is also on Christmas break, which will give me time to devote myself entirely to the essays in the coming days, I hope.

I'll leave you with a picture I took in December 2018 from the Peace Palace, at the Hague, wishing you all a Merry Christmas!

[misterghostface]

.Tapes

When Stan starts his second year of college, he instantly hates his new roommate. But will Richie be able to win him over with his cassette tape obsession? Secret Santa for @sadlysaraofthelosers ! Sorry its late honey, merry christmas! @itfandomprompts

Also a massive thank you to @midnightmillie for helping me to edit!

Read on AO3 here!  ///  Fanfic playlist here!

When Stan had collected his key from the front desk, he’d been prepared for having an unbearable roommate. He didn’t expect them to be friends, necessarily, but in the worst-case scenario he thought that maybe they’d be able to ignore each other. At least long enough to get through the year in one piece. But later, standing in the doorway of what should have been his dorm room, Stan realised how naïve he’d been.

He dropped his bags into the only patch of clear floor space he could see and sighed, wading through the piles of debris to what he thought could be his bed. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was mess. Stan could already imagine how terrible the next year would be if he stayed here. In fact, he didn’t know why he hadn’t applied for a transfer already – surely, he should phone the accommodation liaison while his mysterious roommate was out somewhere else.

He looked across to the messiest side of the room. He wouldn’t be able to transfer without a good reason, he knew from experience, but maybe there was something here that he could use as evidence that they didn’t get along – maybe an anti-gay poster, or a political t-shirt – just something that would prove a ‘clash in values.’

Stan snorted. As though a lack of basic cleanliness wasn’t a big enough thing to clash over.

After making his way to his roommate’s desk, he bent down, to have a look, hand on his knees. When there was nothing incriminating on the top – just a collection of candy wrappers and packets – he pulled out one of the boxes that had been stashed away underneath and opened the lid.

Inside were rows of cassette tapes, some of them of bands Stan didn’t even know you could get on cassette; The Cure, Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, even one called Wolf Alice, a group that Stan was pretty sure had started making music long after tapes had become obsolete. In the next box he found more of the same.

One thing was for sure, his roommate was not only messy but also a complete weirdo. Who would take the effort to transfer music from a CD onto a cassette tape, if they’re not weird?

Suddenly, he felt guilty. His mind was taken back to his school days, when he used to be called a freak for wearing a kippah or for getting stressed out when there was an uneven number of pens in his pocket. Maybe he was being a bit too harsh. It was unlikely, but maybe Stan just had the wrong end of the stick. He hadn’t even seen the guy yet, after all, and what if he was actually alright to talk to?

Stan sighed, swiping his arm across his mattress to brush piles of his roommate’s underwear, comics and pencils to the floor, and began the process of moving in. He’d give it a week. Just a week, he told himself, and if it was absolutely insufferable, he would see about changing rooms.

But it was going to be a long week.

***

“Who the fuck does work on the first day of college?”

Stan rolled his eyes and didn’t reply, focusing on the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. He was quite glad that he already had an assignment, actually, because it gave him a brilliant excuse to ignore his boisterous roommate.

Their first meeting had been awkward at best, his roommate – who had later introduced himself as Richie – barging in to find Stan meticulously dusting his side of the room. He had beamed and ran over, sticking a hand out to be shaken and babbling at decibel levels that could only be described as inhuman. Stan had just ignored him until he went away.

Obviously, Richie was unperturbed, as he was still trying to start a conversation, looking over Stan’s shoulder and asking endless questions (“What does ‘demographic’ mean?”) about his work for Introduction to Business.

He tuned him out, instead focussing on the music coming from the cassette player – ‘Simple Season’ by Hippo Campus – which was actually just calm enough to help him relax.

Richie leaned once more over his shoulder, pointing at the screen. “Wait... there. You’ve written ‘scold’ instead of ‘sold’. Spellcheck won’t pick up on that since it’s a real word.”

“Oh yeah, thanks.” Stan cursed internally as he looked up to where his roommate was pointing. “Don’t you have any work to do?”

Richie smiled infuriatingly and reclined back onto his own bed. “Nope!” He popped the ‘p’. “I don’t have to do anything but relax my fingers, babe.”

“Your fingers?” Stan turned away from his laptop, fighting the blush that threatened to come upon hearing the pet name.

“Oh yeah, I play guitar, didn’t you know?”

Stan shook his head.

“Damn! Well, if you’re a good boy I’ll play for you sometime, I guess.”

“I’ll pass,” he sighed, but Richie ignored him in favour of whistling to the music. After a minute, Stan realised he’d been tapping his own fingers to the beat.

***

Richie was already gone when Stan had woken up on Tuesday, and for some reason he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. That was stupid, of course – seeing Richie was the last thing he wanted. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He got dressed and left with minimal fuss, which last year he would have loved, but now felt was profoundly wrong.

He was sitting in the back row of a lecture theatre, eyes drooping with fatigue and the collar of his shirt digging into his neck, wanting nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep. He had spent most of the night awake, stressing about the paper he had to finish, and about how little he actually wanted to write it. He was confident that he could get a good grade – but God it was so boring.

He slouched down in his seat, far enough that Mr. Sampson couldn’t see him, and laid his head back on the wooden chair back. He closed his eyes and blocked the lecturer’s voice out. He just hoped he didn’t start snoring.

Shoulders loosening, he started to relax as the voices around him became a low monotonous buzz. Perfect bliss. He sighed happily, feeling himself begin to drift off.

The door banged open, shocking him awake and back into an upright position. “Oh sorry!” yelled a very familiar voice over the blasting of a handheld speaker. “Wrong room!”

Everyone turned to stare at Richie, who had begun to leave the room again, exiting to the very apt tune of ‘Talk too Much’ by COIN. Mr Sampson sighed.

“Alright, class dismissed. Go home and get on with your essays while I go and track down Mr. Tozier.”

Stan closed his eyes again in victory, then reached down and hurriedly stuffed his books back into his bag. For once, thank fuck for Richie!

With a newfound spurt of energy, he pulled himself to his feet and forced himself through the crowd that was congregating on the stairs. He pushed the door open with both of his hands – free at last! – and forced himself out into the bright sunlight, taking in a gulp of fresh air and taking off in the direction of the dormitories.

When he hurried past the place where Mr. Sampson was laying into an innocent-faced Richie, he could’ve sworn he saw his roommate wink.

***

With Wednesday came heavy snowfall, and with snowfall came news of lesson cancellations after lesson cancellations. Stan laid on his bed, chin resting on his hand and legs in the air, crossed at the ankle. Richie was sitting cross legged on top of his own duvet. They both stared out the window.

“Do you ever feel sorry for the animals, when it’s like this?” Richie asked.

“I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Well nobody likes to, but I can’t seem to help it sometimes.”

Stan tore his eyes away from the snowy scene in front of him and turned his head to look at Richie. Their eyes met. “Yeah, I get that. I wonder where all of the campus rabbits go when it’s this cold. And how the birds cope with their nests being frozen over.”

“I suppose they’re probably fine,” he replied, shrugging and scratching his face absentmindedly. “I mean, they’ve lived through winters before, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. What’s got you so concerned about animals all of a sudden?”

“Why, am I not allowed?”

Stan frowned, then shrugged. “Sure, you are, I just didn’t recon you would.”

“We’ve only known each other a few days,” Richie pouted, “I think it's fair to say you don’t know everything about me. I love animals, dude.”

Stan smiled, thinking back to the previous winter spent on his ex-boyfriend Mike’s family farm. “I love them too. Have you ever had to brush snow out of a sheep’s wool? It’s so weird, because on the top it's so cold and wet, but at the same time it’s warm and soft underneath.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah! Not that they’re probably supposed to play outside in it anyway, but it seems impossible to keep them all inside for the whole winter.”

“I can imagine. I used to have a friend that lived on a sheep farm. Haven’t talked to him in a while, actually – maybe I should ask him if I can go and feel some moist wool.” Richie stuck out his tongue. “I wonder what he’d say to that.”

Stan laughed. “Probably nothing good if you phrased it like that. Perhaps I should give Mike a ring, see if we can go visit?”

“Wait,” Richie said, now giving Stan his full attention, “do you mean Mike Hanlon? THE Mike Hanlon? Who I used to go to school with?”

“Well if you went to Derry North, yeah, I suppose you must’ve done." His brow furrowed slightly. “That’s so weird, what a coincidence! I didn’t ever expect to find someone from Derry all the way out here.”

“Why didn’t I see you around school too, then?”

Stan shook his head. “I didn’t go there, I met Mike when we were little, at Boy Scouts.”

“Wait, I remember now – didn’t you two date for a while? He talked about you quite a bit.”

“Yeah, and what about it?” Stan bristled. “You have a problem with that?”

Richie’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, of course not! I was just saying.”

“Oh. Well, good. My past roommates usually tried to switch rooms when they found out I was gay, as if I was going to start spying on them in the shower or something. Which I don’t, by the way.” Stan began to relax again, and laid back down to look at the snow out of the window.

“Shame that. I’ve got a cracking bod. You’d be falling over yourself to ask me out.”

“Richie!”

***

Stan’s breath misted in front of him, yellowed slightly by the artificial light coming through the window. One earbud rested in his ear. He was sat on the low wall just outside of the dormitories, red nose poking out over his tightly wound green scarf.

“What are you doing out here, stranger?”

He turned to see Richie standing in the doorway, hands jammed in his pockets and coat unzipped.

Stan smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Coming to sit down next to him, Richie’s teeth began to chatter.

“Yeah, me neither,” Stan admitted, then tutted; “you’re going to catch your death out here like that.” He reached over and grabbed the zipper on Richie’s jacket, pulling it up to his chin and then pulling up his hood, trying to cover his ears despite his unruly hair getting in the way.

Richie laughed quietly and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Stan’s shoulder. “You’re like my little husband.”

“Yeah right, I hated you at the start of the week,” Stan protested. Nevertheless, a hand snaked around under Richie’s hood to play with his hair. “You’re a menace.”

Richie nodded. “That I am. But I’m irresistible. Don’t feel too bad about it, everyone gets sucked in eventually. It’s just my miasma.”

“Your miasma?” Stan raised an unseen eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean,” Richie replied with a smile that was lost in Stan’s shoulder. “Anyway, what are you listening to?” He reached around to grab the earbud that was dangling on Stan’s chest and put it into his ear, then sat up and laughed.

“What! It’s my favourite song!” Stan playfully slapped the back of Richie’s head.

Richie looked at him incredulously. “This? This is your favourite song? Are you being serious?”

“Hey, what’s wrong with Mr Brightside?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s a good song! I just didn’t expect anyone to call it their favourite. It’s like Bohemian Rhapsody, everyone loves it when it comes on but no one calls it their favourite.”

“It’s my mom’s favourite.”

Richie sighed good-naturedly. “Of course, it is. Someone needs to introduce you people to some new music.”

Richie sat up further, and Stan’s hand fell from his hair. His hand immediately felt the loss, and it took a great deal of willpower not to reach up and pull Richie’s head down onto his chest. He stuffed it into his pocket instead, as though the weird feeling he was getting was lack of warmth and not something else.

Richie patted his pockets until he found the one that he was looking for, then pulled out a cassette player. “Listen to this one instead.”

Rolling his eyes, Stan paused his music and pulled out his earbud, replacing it with the one that Richie was offering him. “Oh wait, I think I know this one. It’s by Rex Orange County, right? Mike used to listen to this all the time.”

“I know,” he laughed, “who do you think got him into it to start with?”

“Well maybe you should get me into some new music, since you’re the expert.”

“You know what? Maybe I should. Perhaps I’ll make you a tape.”

Stan hummed. “Why do you like cassette tapes so much anyway? Why not just put all your music on an iPod, or use CDs?”

“My dad used to buy me tapes when I was a kid, and it just went from there I guess,” Richie shrugged. “You were probably expecting it to be a long story, but that’s all there is to it. I’ve just always associated them with happy times.”

Stan smiled and absentmindedly grabbed Richie’s hand. “Nah, I completely understand. It’s like how I’ve kept the cars I used to play with as a kid.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Richie laced their fingers tighter and squeezed, looking off into the distance. “You don’t really hate me, do you?”

“What? Hate you? No, of course not.” Stan’s brow furrowed. “I was wary to start with but certainly not now. I quite like you actually.”

“Oh good. I quite like you too.” Richie leaned over to rest on Stan’s shoulder, but at the last moment turned his head to brush a feather-light kiss on the hinge of his jaw.

“Richie?”

He stood. “It’s getting late. Come on inside before you catch a cold.” He pulled Stan to his feet by the hand. “We should talk more in the morning.”

“You’re a funny one, Tozier.”

“Just how you like it.”

As Stan watched Richie’s retreating back, he couldn’t help but agree.

***

The accommodation office – a place in which Stan found himself far more often than any other student – was small, cramped, and deeply weaved with the smells of lavender and biscuits. He looked across the desk at Mrs Flint, a motherly woman with crinkled skin and a kind smile, as she pushed back a grey hair with one of her delicate fingers.

“How are you holding up this year, Stan? I was surprised to have not heard from you yet.” She brought up his file on the computer and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “If you feel like you and your roommate don’t quite fit, there’s a few other people requesting room changes. I’m sure I can arrange something again.”

Stan smiled and wrapped his fingers around the new cassette tape in his pocket. Richie had given it to him that morning, along with a kiss on the lips and an invitation to dinner. “Not this time, ma’am. I think we’ve finally found a winner. There’s nobody else I’d rather spend my time with at the moment.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but are you sure? Last year you barely lasted a month before asking to be swapped around. What’s different this time?”

“There’s something special about this one. I just know it.” He looked behind Mrs Flint at his new boyfriend, who was pulling faces at him through the glass panel of the door. “He’s absolutely perfect, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

[bsd-bibliophile]

Dazai Osamu - Timeline

In the Introduction of Self Portraits: Tales from the life of Japan's Great Decadent Romantic Dazai Osamu there are a lot of good facts about Dazai.  It is my favorite introduction in any English translation of Dazai's works, and I thought I'd compile all the facts and trivia I found here.  First is this amazing sentence-plus-one that rolls up all of Dazai's life into one neat package:

"Dazai was many things in his thirty-nine years: the rich boy who got himself expelled from his ruling class family by associating with communists, running of with a lowly geisha, allowing a young woman he scarcely knew to die in the first of three "love suicides," and, what was worse, writing about it all; the heavy-drinking, whore mongering, self-absorbed, weeping, whining enffant terrible who was at odds with a staid and pompous literary establishment from the moment he appeared on the scene; the deranged drug fiend with a severe persecution complex who was both a tireless self-promoter and his own harshest critic; the one Japanese author who consistently turned out entertaining and worthwhile literature during the late thirties and early forties, when the entire nation was toeing the ideological line of militarism and fanatic patriotism; the immensely popular writer of the postwar era who ended his life at the height of his popularity by jumping into a river with a neurotic, death-obsessed mistress, leaving behind an impoverished with with three young children and another mistress with a child he'd never even seen. It's not a pretty story, but it's a fascinating one, and no one tells it better than Dazai himself."

Dazai does tell his own story, and Self Portraits is a collection of those stories translated into English (I highly recommend it). And without further ado, here is a short timeline of Dazai's life:

June 19, 1909: Tsushima Shuuji (Dazai's real name) was born in Kanagi village, Northern Tsugaru District, Aomori Prefecture.  He was the eighth surviving child of Tsushima Gen'emon and his wife Tane.

1909-1923: Shuuji rarely saw his parents and didn't have much of a relationship with them as he was raised mostly by his aunt and a nursemaid, Take-san (from his book Tsugaru).  His family was wealthy and his father was a local politician. Shuuji was always at the top of his class in elementary school. 1923: entered middle school, his father died and his eldest brother, Bunji, took over as head of the household. 1925: published his first story in a school magazine. 1927: entered Hirosaki Higher School. Akutagawa commits suicide which causes Shuuji to neglect his studies and devote himself to writing. He spends money on local hot springs and geisha.  He met Oyama Hatsuyo, an apprentice geisha who would later  become his first wife. 1929: wrote a novella, One Generation of Landowners, which centered on the poor treatment of farm hands by wealthy land owners, and the family in his novella had a lot of resemblances to his own family. The night before final exams at his high school, Shuuji tried to overdose on Calmotin ( a sleeping medication). He spent time at the hot springs to recover, but while he was there many of his leftist-oriented friends were arrested and expelled from school. 1930: Shuuji graduated and enrolled in the French Literature Department at Tokyo Imperial University. He roomed near his brother, Keiji. Shuuji began donating money to the Communist Party.  Keiji died of tuberculosis, and Shuuji stops attending school. Hatsuyo runs away to Tokyo where Shuuji meets her and they want to get married, much to Bunji's dislike. Bunji agrees to let them marry, but Shuuji is formally expelled from the family. Nine days after being expelled he and Tanabe Shimeko, a waitress who worked in Ginza, attempt a lover's suicide, but only Shimeko dies. His family stepped in to keep him out of jail for attempted murder. Shuuji and Hatsuyo are married in Tsugaru. 

"In May he met Ibuse Masuji, then an up-and-coming young writer whom he admired immensely (and who agreed to the meeting only after Shuuji wrote a letter threatening to kill himself if he wasn't granted an audience). Ibuse became Shuuji's mentor and was to be the younger writer's friend, confidant, and greatest supporter throughout the rest of his life."

1931: Bunji begins giving Shuuji 120 yen per month as long as he attends school, leaves the Communist Party, and doesn't get arrested, which Shuuji doesn't strictly adhere to. He is involved with the Communist Party, and spends a night in jail along with being interrogated about his leftist-activities. He writes very little, but does write haiku ("a typical example: 'Outside, sleet is falling/What are you smiling for/Statue of Lenin?'"). 1932: Bunji hears about Shuuji's illegal activities and cuts off the allowance. Shuuji is being searched for by the police and goes into hiding. He learns that Hatsuyo was not a virgin when he married her and takes this as a major blow. He vows to stop his involvement with the Party and reiterates his pledge to his brother in Tsugaru. He gets his allowance back and moved with Hatsuyo. He begins writing again. 1933: Shuuji publishes his first story, Train, under the pen name Dazai Osamu. (I'll call him Dazai from now on in this post). Dazai continues writing. 1934: continues writing and publishes in a literary journal, The Blue Flower, and becomes acquainted with many literary figures (including Yamagishi Gaishi, Dan Kazuo, and Nakahara Chuuya). 1935: Finishes his first volume of collected works, The Final Years, and attempts suicide by hanging after a night of partying in Yokohama. It doesn't work and he goes home where Hatsuyo, Ibuse, and other friends waiting for him. Ibuse was able to convince Bunji to continue sending Dazai money. Less than three weeks after the hanging attempt Dazai almost died from acute appendicitis. He became addicted to Pabinal (morphine painkiller), and started borrowing money. Dazai was nominated for the first Akutagawa Prize for "Against the Current" and "Flowers of Buffoonery".  He did not win, but Sato Haruo, a judge for the Akutagawa Prize, became his mentor.

"In September Kawabata Yusanari, another of the judges, published an account of the selection process in which he wrote that 'personally, I feel that the odious clouds hanging over [Dazai's] private life prevent the direct expression of his genius.' Dazai was furious when he read this, and replied the following month by publishing an open letter entitled 'To Kawabata Yusanari,' which read in part: 'I'll stab him. I actually thought that. I thought you a great villain.' Kawabata responded with 'To Dazai Osamu, Concerning the Akutagawa Prize,' in which he apologized for his words but took Dazai to task for his 'groundless delusions and suspicions.'"

1936: During the spring, Dazai is nominated for a second Akutagawa Prize, thinks he has a great chance at winning, went to a hospital for his addiction, and learned that no one had won the second Akutagawa Prize. In the fall, Dazai is nominated for the third Akutagawa Prize but is disqualified for having been a previous candidate. In October, Hatsuyo gets Ibuse to hospitalize Dazai again for his addiction. 

"Ibuse visited Dazai in Funabashi on October 12 and the following day convinced him to enter a hospital. That night he was taken to a mental institution in Itabashi, where he was kept in a locked room. For about a week he underwent extreme  withdrawal symptoms, tearing his clothes, breaking windows, writing on the walls, and screaming at the doctors and nurses. He was allowed no visitors during his stay."

During his hospitalization, Hatsuyo committed adultery with Kodate Zenshirou. After Dazai was released Dazai continued to receive a monthly allowance from Bunji. Kodate, after a miscommunication where he thought the affair had been found out, confesses everything to Dazai devastating him. 1937: Dazai and Hatsuyo attempt a lover's suicide in a hot spring by taking sleeping pills, but both survive and they divorce. Dazai publishes litter except the occasional essay. 1938: Publishes "A Promise Fulfilled", "Old Folks", and "One Hundred Views of Mount Fuji". Ibuse finds  Ishihara Michiko and she is married to Dazai. He writes "Seascape with Figures in Gold", "No Kidding", "A Little Beauty", and "Canis familiaris". 1939: Dazai and Michiko move to Mitaka just outside Tokyo, and Dazai "got stupendously drunk and apparently made quite a spectacle of himself" at a gathering of artists from Aomori Prefecture in Tokyo. 1940: visits his old mentor, Sato Haruo 1941: Dazai's daughter, Sonoko, was born. He took his family to his hometown to visit his mother who was ill. Japan entered war with England and the United States. 1942-43: Writes Tsugaru, New Tales of the Provinces, Regretful Parting, and Bedtime Stories (otogizashi). 1944-45: Dazai's son, Masaki, was born. He moved his family from the bombing in Tokyo to Kofu, but the house is bombed and he takes his family to Tsugaru. The bomb is dropped on Hiroshima and Japan surrenders. 1946: Dazai and his family return to Mitaka and Dazai writes Merry Christmas. 1947: The beginnings of his great novel, The Setting Sun:

"In January 1947 a woman named Ota Shizuko visited Dazai's workroom. Dazai had first met Shizuko in late 1941 when she and two friends, all fans of his, called at his house. He and Shizuko had met several times since then, and while Dazai was in Tsugaru they had carried on an increasingly passionate correspondence. She was hoping to become a writer, and Dazai had been encouraging her to keep a diary. In late February Dazai went to Shizuko's house in Shimo Soga, Kanagawa Prefecture, and stayed for five days. He borrowed her diary, which he was to use as a partial inspiration for his novel The Setting Sun...Dazai finished The Setting Sun in July 1947.” (I remember reading somewhere that Dazai based the author character in The Setting Sun and the protagonist off of Ota Shizuko) 

Dazai met Yamazaki Tomie, a beautician, who was contemplating suicide. Dazai's second daughter Satoko, "who grew up to be the great contemporary writer Tsushima Yuuko", was born. Dazai found out that Ota Shizuko was pregnant with his child. 

1948: Published Handsome Devils and Cigarettes, and Cherries. Dazai finished No Longer Human. He began and never finished writing Goodbye. One June 13 Dazai and Tomie drowned themselves in the Tamagawa Canal. Their bodies were discovered on June 19, Dazai's/Shuuji's thirty-ninth birthday.

[henbooks]

Writing Update 12/24/17

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!

It’s been a looong time since I’ve talked about how my writing things are going, so it’s time to give you guys a huge update on everything.

First and Foremost- Celestia. My Co-writer and I are taking some notes on our current draft to prepare for a huge overhaul draft based on the suggestions of our current beta readers. After that draft (or maybe two), we’ll probably be looking for beta readers again. So... keep an eye out for that if you want to read it! 

Edits are going well, but slow. We’re both really invested in our own stories, and so getting back into Celestia edits can be hard. We’re hoping to have this ready for querying fairly soon- a year from now or less is ideal. I’m not sure if it’s possible for us at our age and experience level, but it sure would be awesome. I’m very proud of that story and I really want to see it published someday, whether that is soon or later.

The Court of the Murdered King is well under way. After the outline overhaul, I had a great idea, which made me go through and change a good number of important scenes, but it’s no issue. I’m really excited about the change. I started drafting again very recently, now that everything is squared away. It’s a bit annoying how much writing I had to remove because of the overhaul, but the plot is a lot stronger now. I’m feeling very optimistic about it now, and can’t wait to get some more writing in.

I’ve been developing a few new ideas, since my brain always wants to mull over something. My newest one is an overhaul of Once Betrayed, Twice Crowned, which now needs a new name. In fact, it really isn’t Once Betrayed, Twice crowned anymore. The idea has evolved to the point where all previous similarities no longer exist.

I’m just going to call that story The Sailing Adventure for now, because it has a lot of boats.

Either way, it’s about a young man named Enise whose leader is killed by the nearby elf clan. The people in his village worry Enise- a very good friend of the leader- will inherit the mantle of leader, and kick him out of town during the power vacuum. Enise runs into an elf named Caste in the forest, who gives him some information on The Elf Clan, and proposes a quest. 

Past that is spoilers, but it includes two pirates who steal from other pirates to give back to the merchants, an herbalist who can- and probably will- kill you, and a whole lot of sailing. And elves. It’s got at least three of those.

Other than that, The Rock and the Falcon has a developing plot for the second and third books, The Supernatural Project (Previously called 426 North Hartford Street) has a stable concept, plot, and world, and something I’m tentatively naming The Heist Story has a concept. Nothing huge in any of these, but they are progressing.

Last thing is character designs. I’m currently in a class where you basically study one topic for a semester and write bunch of essays about it. For that, i chose the topic of character design. I’m working on my final project for it right now, and am designing five of my characters with at least three finished products. My five characters are Helen Miriam Kells from Frostbitten, Alastor from Joie, Caste from The Sailing Adventure, Vox from TCotMK, and Verse from The Rock and The Falcon. So far, I have sketches and designs for all of them, and am working on the finalized drawing to digitally color them in.

It’s really exciting, and I can’t wait to show you guys the finished products! I’ll definitely be doing more, and will hopefully have drawn-out designs for all of my characters sometime.

That’s about it for now. This has been an idea-ful month, which has been really fun and a much-needed break from school. Once the semester ends, I’ll have a lot more time to write, and I look forward to that. or now, I’m going to keep doing what i can.

[secondsightcinema]

Alistair Sim: the “full-bodied” Scrooge

“An ant is what it is, and a grasshopper is what it is, and Christmas is a humbug.” —E. Scrooge

“

As so often happens when I choose a movie to write about, a movie I dearly love, I pass through a period of thinking there’s not really that much to say about it. That’s especially true with a story so often adapted and so universally beloved.

But of course as soon as I begin digging into the movie, its source material, and taking screen shots from the movie—can’t tell you how much I learn about a film during this stage—it invariably turns out there’s way too much to say and way too little time. I’m past my deadline already. That’s why this piece only goes through Scrooge’s first outing, with the Spirit of Christmas Past—I could happily spend another four hours doing screen shots, but this will hopefully whet your appetite for the greatness of this movie, if you don’t already know it, and get you ready for a re-viewing if you do.

So this will be not a finished essay but notes on an absolutely fabulous version of one of the most adapted stories in the English language. Also on my Christmas Carol watchlist: the George C. Scott version, which is regarded almost as highly as this 1951 version, and The Muppets’ Christmas Carol, which I have not yet seen. I’m taking for granted that you know the basic story and character names, at least the major ones (Scrooge, Marley, Bob Cratchit, Tiny Tim).

Christmastime looms large in Scrooge’s life. He was forged in the loneliness of his childhood at school, where he was left to fend for himself during the holidays. It was Christmas when his beloved sister, Fanny, rescued him from family exile and took him home, as she says in the movie, never to be lonely as long as she lives. It is Christmas Eve when Scrooge’s business partner and only friend Jacob Marley dies, and it is Christmas Eve seven years after that night when Dickens’ story takes place.

After a typical Christmas Eve, which for Mr. Scrooge means declining to make any donation to buy meat and drink for the poor (“I wish to be left alone,” he tells them) as well as telling a borrower who can’t make his payment to hie himself to debtor’s prison. “If they would rather die [than go to debtors’ prison], they’d better do it and decrease the surplus population,” and what seems to be a ritual of sneering at his clerk, Bob Cratchit, for his excitement about celebrating Christmas with his family, Scrooge has his customary solitary dinner. He shoos some tattered children carolers, singing in the snow, and walks to his house, the one he inherited from his late partner and friend, Jacob Marley. In the novella, Dickens says it is pitch dark, but that Scrooge knows every stone. But he is confronted by something he cannot account for: Marley’s face, lit by a dreadful light, appears on the door knocker…

…followed shortly thereafter by Marley’s ghost. Marley’s afterlife is going very badly indeed, and it will never get better. Marley wishes to spare Scrooge his everlasting torment, so he intervenes to get Scrooge something he really doesn’t deserve—a chance to reform before it’s too late.

The film makes excellent use of sound in this section. Marley’s shrieks are blood-curdling, and his movements are accompanied by a sort of sloshing sound, as well as the very loud clanking of his horribly heavy chain, the one he crafted in life, day by day, “of my own free will,” as he says.

Just before he leaves, Marley calls Scrooge to the window and shows him spectral, writhing figures, those who want to help other but “have lost the power, forever.” The figures remind me of a Breughel painting. He also tells Scrooge to expect, courtesy of his own intervention, visits from three spirits, and makes clear that Scrooge had better avail himself of this opportunity to avoid Marley’s fate.

“I wish to be left alone,” Scrooge told the men who visited his office on this day, soliciting for charity.

But does he, really? He is in a kind of living death, his days and nights carved in routines and silence. His beloved sister is dead, his partner is dead, he has rejected his nephew, and has lost the love of his fiancée, which seems to remove the last impediment to his fully indulging his worst impulses.

On this particular Christmas, after years of an unvarying routine, in which Scrooge not only treats other people as an offense to him personally, he shows himself no more generosity or mercy than he does others. We see him at dinner, asking for more bread. The waiter clearly knows him, so he tells Scrooge the bread will cost a halfpenny more. Scrooge says, “..no more bread.” He starves everybody, but he barely indulges himself. The harsh world he perceives, in which he has become an instrument of that harshness, offers him no escape.

Scrooge and the Spirit of Christmas Past at Scrooge’s old school…

…they see Scrooge’s beloved sister, Nanny, who has come to bring Scrooge home for Christmas, at last reconciled with the father who blames Scrooge for his mother’s dying after giving birth to him.

She reassures him that everyone loves him very much, and promises him he will never be lonely again, as long as she lives.

Scrooge spent his early years in exile from his family, at school, unretrieved during holidays. A terrible, lonely childhood. He weeps when his sister Fanny comes to bring him home, his father finally having forgiven him for supposedly having caused his wife’s death (in childbirth). Scrooge retreats into this posture, finding an identity in his hardness, his borderline criminality (when he and Marley buy out the embezzler), his righteous, unending anger and feeling that he is the one being shortchanged, the one being cheated. He thinks it’s about money, a realm where he can be master. But it’s a hedge against the terror of loneliness, a kind of mastery of it. He mocks Cratchit’s closeness with his family, his excitement at celebrating Christmas with them. It rings so hollow.

After the school visit, the Spirit takes Scrooge to an office Christmas party thrown by his first boss, Mr.Fezziwig, a gentle soul who refused to harden himself to the increasing ruthlessness of the changing world. We see Scrooge dancing with joy, and we see old Scrooge smile for the first time. The Spirit asks why Scrooge gives Fezziwig so much credit for throwing a party that must have cost what, “three or four pounds,” and Scrooge, before passing his thought through his hate filter, says something like “But look how much joy he brought, it would be worth a fortune…” before trailing off, lowering his head in shame, and saying he would like to have a word with his clerk, Cratchit.

Earlier that evening, Scrooge had looked scornfully at Cratchit, who has just wished him a Merry Christmas: “A Merry Christmas, sir, and you a clerk with 15 shillings a week and a wife and a family. talking about Merry Christmas”—he sneers. “I’ll retire to Bedlam.”

  “Perhaps the machines aren’t such a good thing for mankind after all,” Scrooge to the guy trying to buy out Fezziwig. This is the first scene where we see Scrooge tempted. The film frames many shots in doors and windows, people looking out at hard truths, or Tiny Tim looking in the toy store window at the Christmas display, or Scrooge’s fiancée Alice looking out at the world she now faces without Scrooge, who has changed in his affections, shifting them from Alice to making money at any cost.

Sister Fanny is dying in childbirth, just as Scrooge’s mother did when she bore him.

Fanny’s deathbed: she whispers a demand that Scrooge promise he will care for her son (not sure why, where’s her husband?), so similar to Oliver Twist. (Q: Does this happen in the book? I don’t think so. But if it’s an addition to this adaptation, it’s an excellent one. It makes Scrooge’s antipathy for his nephew and the power of their final reconciliation much stronger.)

Then Alice breaks off their engagement. She is still the very pure, two-dimensional character she was in their first scene together. She is poor and kind, and Scrooge is becoming rich and has no time for kindness.

Alice, breaking off their engagement: May you be happy in the life you have chosen. Scrooge, defiantly, angrily: I shall be.

Just after this, we see Scrooge reporting for work at his new job with the future embezzler. Scrooge seems to be hanging his head, he is ashamed to have abandoned Fezziwig. Proximity to the Fanny death scene creates a relationship—Scrooge changes, moves toward self-seeking and away from connection, because of losing Fanny and hating his nephew for causing Fanny’s death. He is introduced to Marley, who will cause his incipient corruption to flower.

The Spirit’s next stop after Fanny’s death and Alice’s breaking off their engagement: Scrooge’s new job, where he meets his future partner in business and corruption, and possible intercessor—it is Marley who has won Scrooge this last chance to avoid Marley’s tortured fate.

Marley: The world is on the verge of new and great changes, Mr. Scrooge. Some of them, of necessity, will be violent. Do you agree? Scrooge: I think the world is becoming a very hard and cruel place, Mr. Marley. One must steel oneself to survive it and not be crushed under. Marley: I think we have many things in common, Mr. Scrooge. Scrooge: I hope so, Mr Marley.

  Bob Cratchit, to Mrs Dilber, who has come to fetch Scrooge because Marley is dying. “He’ll come at seven.” Mrs Dilber: “I’ll try to get Mr Marley to hold out till then, I’m sure. Much obliged…and a Merry Christmas, if it ain’t out of keeping with the situation.”

Scrooge climbs Marley’s stairs, to Marley’s deathbed. At the top: the undertaker, played by the marvelous Ernest Thesiger, best known for his appearances in two James Whale films, The Old Dark House (1932) and as Dr. Frankenstein’s fellow mad scientist Dr. Pretorius in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935).

Ernest Thesiger as the undertaker

Scrooge: You don’t believe in letting the grass grow under your feet, do you? Undertaker/Thesiger: “Ours is a highly competitive profession, sir.”

“We’ve been wrong.” “…Wrong? Well, nobody can be right all the time. Nobody’s perfect. We’ve been no worse than the next man…or better, when it comes to that. You mustn’t reproach yourself, Jacob.” “We were wrong. Save yourself.” “Save myself…save myself from what?”

Marley expires having failed to make Scrooge see the peril he is in.

Mrs. Dilber turns to the undertaker: “Just like you said.” Undertaker: “I always know”.—funniest moment in the movie, reliably from Thesiger.

Spirit: Jacob Marley worked at your side for 18 years. He was the only friend you ever had. And what did you feel when you signed the register at his burial and took his money, his house, and his few mean sticks of furniture? Did you feel a little pity for him? Look at your face, Ebenezer, the face of a wretched, grasping, scraping, covetous old sinner.” “No…no…”

The clock tolls, Scrooge wakes up, the next Spirit is coming…

This was written for the Happy Holidays Blogathon, hosted by the good people at Pure Entertainment Preservation Society. 

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