#so far i have a scholarship honours student

[rotturn]

if i were perhaps to make Even More ocs what kind of. tropes? vibes? r u lookin for whats the vibe

[non-un-topo]

I need to excise my mother from my brain

[thatanimewriter]

𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 - 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵!

next chapter  →

❝ 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞. ❞ ──   𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘢  𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘹 𝘨𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

you are the heir to a well-known doll company. ironically, you’re just as small as one. at ouran academy, you help out at the host club as a host yourself, creating dolls of your clients upon their request. though it seems it's not just the guests who admire your work...

── 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵

𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 + 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you'd expect libraries to be quiet. not at ouran. haruhi fujioka, a first-year high school and scholarship student, wandered the halls of the rich school dressed in less than rich clothes, talking to her mother in heaven in her thoughts. pausing at an abandoned music room, she eyed the sign out the front before opening the door in hope of finding a place to study peacefully.

how wrong haruhi was...

roses came flying out the door in a whirlwind and a symphony of male voices reached her ears not long after.

'welcome,' they greeted calmly, positioned in a strange assemblage that made them look as if they were in a modelling magazine instead of an empty music room.

────── 〔✿〕──────

“only those with excellent social standing and those from filthy rich families are lucky enough to spend their time here at the elite private school, ouran academy. the ouran host club is where the school's handsomest boys with too much time on their hands, entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. just think of it as ouran academy's elegant playground for the super-rich and beautiful,” a purple-eyed boy explained to a shocked haruhi.

“this is a host club?” haruhi asked timidly, backing up against the door.

“oh, wow, it's a boy,” a pair of twins noted.

a tall boy with glasses was next to join the conversation. “hikaru, kaoru, i believe this young man is in the same class as you, isn't he?”

“yeah, but he's shy,” the twins complained in unison, turning to face the boy with glasses. “he doesn't act very sociably so we don't know much about him.” in response to the twin's findings, the boy with glasses smirked and shrugged, a light bulb going off in his head.

“well, that wasn't very polite,” he said. “welcome to the ouran host club, mr honour student.”

the purple-eyed boy's interest piqued at the revelation. “what? you must be haruhi fujioka! you're the exceptional honour student we've heard about.” at the mention of her name, she stopped struggling.

“how did you know my name?” she inquired uncomfortably, turning her head to face the group.

hearing the commotion, you emerged from the storage cupboard, “you're infamous,” you stated.

“it's not every day a commoner gains entrance into our academy,” the boy with glasses finished. “you must have an audacious nerve to work hard enough to fight your way into this school as an honour student, mr fujioka.”

“kyoya..." you muttered, disappointed by his rude phrasing.

“well, uh, thank you, i guess," haruhi responded, visibly defeated by kyoya's blunt words.

“you're welcome!” the purple-eyed boy draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “you're a hero to other poor people, fujioka. you've shown the world that even a poor person can excel at an elite private academy!” haruhi shuffled away awkwardly; this did not stop the boy at all. “it must be hard for you to constantly be looked down upon by others,” he continued, following haruhi around flamboyantly.

“i think you're taking this poor thing too far, tamaki," you commented as you watched tamaki chase after haruhi.

“spurned, neglected, but that doesn't matter now, long live the poor! we welcome you, poor man, to our world... of beauty!”

“i'm out of here..." haruhi muttered, heading for the door.

this time, the smallest of the bunch ran forward and grabbed haruhi by the arm. “hey! come back here, haru-chan! you must be like a superhero or something, that's so cool!”

“i'm not a hero, i'm an honour student.” by now, haruhi had had enough of the host club. then it dawned on her... “and who are you calling haru-chan?!”

upset and scared by the sudden outburst, the small student ran away. “[name]!” he whined, clinging to your torso. you wrapped your arms around him and at that moment, haruhi realised you weren't much taller than the boy. maybe 5′0 at the most.

“mitsukuni.” a deep voice called and the small boy turned at the sound of his name.

“takashi!” you sighed at honey's enthusiasm and released him, allowing him to hang by the taller host.

“i never would've imagined the famous scholar...would be so openly gay,” tamaki said aloud. haruhi's discomfort at this comment made you realise the honour student was in fact a female. “so, tell me what kind of guys you're into. do you like the strong silent type?”

at the mention of his 'brand', mori turned to face haruhi.

“the boy lolita?”

honey wiped his tears away.

“how about the mischievous type?”

the twins struck a pose back to back.

“or the cool type?” kyoya glanced at haruhi with a straight face.

haruhi stuttered at the situation and staggered back slightly. “uh, i, uh, i-i-it's not like that, i was just looking for a quiet place to study!”

tamaki pulled haruhi's chin up to face him, “or maybe...you're into a guy like me. what do you say?” haruhi jumped back to escape his grasp, banging into a wooden pedestal with a vase on it. realising her mistake, she turned around and tried to grab the handle. at the same time, you rushed forward and tried to catch the vase before it hit the ground. the smash rung in everyone's ears.

hikaru and kaoru groaned in unison, “we were going to feature that renaissance vase in an upcoming school auction,” hikaru complained.

“now you've done it, commoner, the bidding on that vase was supposed to start at 8 million yen!" kaoru explained.

“what?! 8 million yen?!" haruhi exclaimed, “how many thousand yen is that? how many thousands are in a million?” she wondered to herself. “uh, I'm gonna have to pay you back...”

you winced, “with what money?” you asked gently, “from the looks of it, you're having trouble affording the uniform...”

“what's with that grubby outfit you've got on, anyway?" kaoru asked.

“well, what do you think we should do, tamaki?" you picked up some shards of the vase, cutting your finger lightly on the edge of one, your brows furrowing slightly at the sharp pain.

tamaki sat down in a chair and crossed one leg over the other. “there's a famous saying you may have heard, fujioka." he pointed a finger at her, “when in rome, you should do as the romans do. since you have no money, you can pay with your body. that means starting today, you're the host club's dog.”

while haruhi was in a state of shock, honey jabbed her arm. “poke, poke?” haruhi's body flopped to the ground, only mildly surprising the club members.

────── 〔✿〕──────

you sat at your table, engrossed in your work as you waited for your guests to arrive. your tools were laid out neatly on the table and the blank doll slowly came to life as you painted a face onto it.

“[name]!” some girls called as they walked past your table. you smiled at them, gently waving.

“hey, how are you?” you asked.

“i'm good, but we wanted to know how you manage to make the doll look so realistic,” a girl inquired, the remaining girls nodding in agreement.

“oh, you kind of just get better the more you do it. classic practice makes perfect, you know?” the girls' eyes widened and comments about your talent floated around the club area. “oh geez...” you mumbled, noticing tamaki going off to haruhi about tips on how to be a host and why host clubs are important. “excuse me, ladies.”

────── 〔✿〕──────

“are you sure it's really ok for me to keep this uniform?” haruhi wondered, pulling the curtain back as she revealed the transformation she had undergone.

“cute! you're as pretty as a girl! adorable!” tamaki cooed, much to your amusement.

“haru-chan, you look so cute!” honey exclaimed.

“if we had known that's how you really look,” hikaru began.

“we would've helped you out sooner,” kaoru finished.

“who knows, maybe he'll draw in some customers,” kyoya stated.

“you know, that's just what I was thinking,” tamaki replied. “our errand boy is moving up the ranks. starting today, you are an official member of the host club!” haruhi looked at the small crowd around her. “i will personally train you to be a first-rate host.”

“if you can get 100 customers to request your service, we will completely forget about your 8 million yen debt,” you offered calmly.

“a host?” haruhi asked, obviously shocked.

────── 〔✿〕──────

now that haruhi was part of the host club, you had added waiting staff. you dropped by haruhi's area more often than the rest to get haruhi used to the atmosphere of being in the host club. you could clearly tell she was uncomfortable being around these girls, but quickly realised how easily it came to her when she began telling her customers about her mother.

“why is he so popular?” tamaki mumbled.

“he's a natural,” you answered.

“no training needed,” the twins noted in sync.

“have you forgotten about me?” the girl sitting beside tamaki asked haughtily.

“oh no, sorry, princess,” tamaki said. “i'm just a little bit concerned about our newest host.”

“well, that's obvious, tamaki. you sure have been keeping an eye on him,” she continued.

“of course, i have to. i'm training him to be a gentleman like me.” tamaki snapped his fingers. “haruhi, come here for a minute,” he instructed, gesturing for her to come over to his table.

“what's up?” haruhi asked.

“i'd like you to meet someone. this is my regular guest, princess ayanokoji," he introduced.

“miss, it's a pleasure to meet you.” at haruhi's greeting, tamaki stood up, spinning haruhi in circles.

“that was so cute!” he began, continuing his onslaught of compliments as you eyed princess ayanokoji. she was surprised by tamaki's sudden display of emotion.

“um, tamaki..." she said, trying to catch his attention. for her own selfish reasons or to save haruhi, no one knew.

“mori-senpai! help me!” haruhi pleaded. as quick as possible, mori - or as you lovingly liked to call him, takashi - stood and lifted haruhi out of tamaki's arms. as he held her in the air, his cheeks dusted with a light blush, realising haruhi is in fact female.

“mori-senpai? you really didn't have to go that far," tamaki commented sheepishly. you began taking the empty tableware away, noticing the cold stare princess ayanokoji was giving haruhi before turning it onto you.

────── 〔✿〕──────

haruhi began digging around in the pond, which didn't go unnoticed by you and tamaki. the longer she looked, the more inclined they felt to help. the sound of splashes made haruhi look up from her searching.

“h-hey, you don't have to do that, you'll get wet,” haruhi said, looking at the pair joining her in the search for her lunch money.

“a little water never hurt anyone,” you said, running your hands along the floor of the pond.

“besides, people are always telling me that i'm dripping with good looks,” tamaki added. “hang on a second.” he rose to full height, holding out a wallet, “this what you're looking for?”

“what's the matter? you're staring off into space,” you noted.

tamaki moved closer to haruhi, holding out the wallet to her. “you're not falling for me, are you?” he teased.

haruhi tensed at the comment, snatching her wallet from his hands, “no way!”

“how did your bag end up in the pond, anyway?” tamaki wondered.

“well, uh, i guess i accidentally dropped it out the window at some point.”

you looked at the window, noticing the figure of tamaki's regular guest. you frowned and quickly left the yard.

────── 〔✿〕──────

a sudden crash turned everyone's attention onto haruhi and princess ayanokoji.

“no, haruhi! leave me alone! somebody help, he just attacked me!” the princess screamed. “someone do something! teach this commoner a lesson!” she demanded. you looked at the twins and nodded. they each took a jug full of water and poured it onto the pair on the floor. “why did you do that?" she asked. as tamaki helped her up, you began to clean the mess, letting out a small yelp of pain when a shard of glass reopened the cut on your hand from when haruhi broke the vase, alerting a 6′4 giant. “do something, tamaki. haruhi just assaulted me," ayanokoji whined.

“i'm disappointed in you,” tamaki stated. “you threw his bag into the pond, didn't you?”

“you don't know that,” she replied quickly. “do you have any proof that I did?”

“you know, you're a beautiful girl, but you aren't classy enough to be our guest, dear. if there's one thing i know, haruhi is not that kind of a man,” tamaki said firmly.

“why, tamaki? you idiot!" ayanokoji ran out of the music room in a fit.

“hm, now how am i going to punish you? because it is your fault, after all.” haruhi stared at tamaki from the ground. “your quota is now 1,000!” still soaking in the new information, tamaki held his hand out for haruhi, “come on, i've got high expectations for you, my little rookie.”

────── 〔✿〕──────

you held up a paper bag, “this is the only spare uniform we have.”

“sorry, but it's better than a wet one, right?” kyoya said.

“thanks a lot, you guys, i'm gonna go change,” haruhi informed.

as she left the room, mori approached you, holding out his hand in an attempt to get you to show him the cut, which you understood. “it doesn't hurt that bad,” you said, holding your hand out. he inspected it briefly, leaving to get a bandage to cover it until club was over. “thanks, takashi.”

“yeah.”

────── 〔✿〕──────

“haruhi, here you go. i brought you some towels,” tamaki said, opening the curtain to hand them to her. haruhi turned around, her white buttoned shirt half off and the singlet she wore underneath her uniform showing. tamaki loosened his grip on the curtain, letting it fall shut once more. “haruhi?”

“yeah?”

“so... you're a girl?”

“biologically speaking, yeah,” haruhi replied, opening the curtain to reveal herself in the girls uniform, driving tamaki nuts as he began to scream incoherently. “listen, senpai, i don't really care if you guys recognise me as a boy or a girl. in my opinion, it's more important for a person to be recognised for who they are rather than for what sex they are.”

“well, isn't this an interesting development,” kyoya noted.

“oh, yeah," the twins responded.

“uh, you know, i have to say, senpai, i thought you were pretty cool earlier,” haruhi commented, causing a bright red blush to spread across tamaki's face.

“now, i could be wrong, but i think we may be witnessing the beginnings of love, here,” kyoya said to you, earning a nod in response.

“being a host and getting fussed over by a bunch of girls might not be that bad. i wonder how i can pull it off...” haruhi wondered aloud to herself. “i've got it! i'll just call everyone 'dude' and 'bro', now,” she said, laughing at her newfound revelation.

────── 〔✿〕──────

“you know, you look good in the girls uniform despite how tacky it is," you complimented.

haruhi laughed at the comment, “thanks, but i don't look as good in either uniform as you.” you stuttered out a thank you before gently denying it. “you do, though, right?” haruhi turned to the closest members, mori and honey, who nodded in agreement with small smiles on their faces, making you even more embarrassed.

maybe there would be good things that came out of smashing an expensive vase...

[febywrites]

On returning home

24 January 2024

On an October evening in 2023, we found ourselves back home in Jakarta Indonesia, surrounded by the familiar faces of family, friends, and relatives. As expected, the usual question(s) started to roll in:

“Why not find a job there and extend your stay for a few more years?”

To be very honest, the temptation to secure better job opportunities for me and Delta, as well as better education opportunities for our son is undeniable. Moreover, who wouldn’t want the chance to leave Indonesia – a nation often disdained by its people? I bet people would kill for the opportunity to leave Indonesia for good and find a better living elsewhere. But there are some rock-solid reasons why we chose to head back, even in the face of such tempting prospects.

First, as a lucky scholarship recipient, I have a moral responsibility to return home and honour the commitment of returning home immediately upon completing my studies, adhering to a minimum of two years. Without discrediting those who chose to stay, especially fellow scholarship recipients—some are friends whom I respect with all my heart—my belief is grounded in a personal commitment to avoid becoming a selfish opportunist and choosing not to immigrate solely to escape my country. If I could study abroad using government scholarship funding, I wouldn't use it as an opportunity to permanently relocate and become an immigrant with my family. Things would be entirely different if I paid for my studies, found a job independently, and relocated. My goal was solely to earn a Master’s degree, nothing more. But that's just my perspective. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, don't they? None the wiser or better.

Secondly, a year spent abroad has made it challenging to witness the growth of loved ones from a distance. In 1 year, I’ve missed significant family events, like my cousin's wedding and my grandmother's declining health struggles. It became evident when I saw the visible toll it takes on my parents–more wrinkles and grey hairs as they age. I’ve come to realise the importance of proximity to family, and this is the price I have to pay to pursue self-actualisation.

Lastly, as much as we’d love our son to enjoy all the perks abroad— like top-notch education, access to clean air (!!!), accessible parks, libraries, museums, and all sorts of child-friendly facilities— it boils down to wanting him to grow up in a place that's steady, with consistent support system until he reaches primary school age. Many research emphasized that frequent relocations can have adverse effects on children. Surely, my son can develop resilience, fluency in English, and early exposure to multiculturalism. However, there are potential drawbacks to this instability, including long-term issues with social-emotional behaviour. When we moved to the UK, it took us three months to help our son achieve stability and better functionality. As a student mom, this adjustment phase was very tough on me.

Sena deserves his "village," a network of close, tight-knit family and friends that was lacking during our time in the UK, but more common back home in Indonesia. Still, I deeply appreciate the wonderful circle of Indonesian mom friends I've found in London, offering not just friendship but also mutual support. Being far away from home indeed amplifies the sense of belonging, prompting a stronger connection with people from your country of origin.

I suppose these are the reasons why we choose to go home. Yes, there are so many benefits of staying, and yes, family is family, no matter the distance. In helping us make such a decision, a fundamental question persists: What truly brings happiness? Call it pragmatic or call it finding the least painful decision – it's all about what feels right for me (and for us, as a family). And so it is.

[testormblog]

A Playmate

I began my second school year.  At least, school provided me with a stable environment.  My home life was about to be upset.  Early in 1950, I’m told a playmate will arrive later in the year.  I found this news strange.  I reckoned no other child would want to join my family.  Then I learnt it would be a baby.  To me, a baby was a human doll.  I didn’t play with dolls.  I had never before given babies a passing thought nor where they came from.  Somebody repeated the ridiculous old age adage that they grew curled up in cabbages when I asked how it was coming.  I thought, ‘Really!’  I had helped Dad pick the cabbages in our garden and hadn’t found any babies.  The subject was closed.  It wasn’t as though I cared about the truth anyway.

Mother didn’t seem to physically change in shape.  One day, she left to stay with Grandma in Beenleigh for her confinement, whatever that was, and I went to Nana’s and Pop’s.  I was very pleased about this.  Perhaps, I could stay with them and the baby with my parents.  Every day after school, Nana handed me a glass of fresh milk and a couple lebkuchen, German gingerbreads, then asked me what I had learnt.  Soon after, we received a message that Mother was at the hospital.  A few days later, she brought home a screaming baby.  So, I assumed the blighter came from the hospital.

Mother had wanted my brother.  She possibly was trying to repair her marriage and image.  One child families weren’t favourably viewed by the community.  The government was strongly pushing for an increased birth rate after the war.  Mother said it was wonderful for me to have a sibling.  She added I’d need to look after him.  I thought how was I supposed to that.  I was only seven years old.  Gary became the centre of our family’s life and I was pushed further into the background and forgotten.  That was how I saw the situation.  As far as being a playmate, that wasn’t plausible.

Whilst few were looking, I had grown into my own person with thoughts, ideas and yearnings.  At that time, nobody thought I’d amount to anything in my life.  Yet, my parents believed my baby brother would achieve everything.  He was a ‘second time lucky’ child.

Gary knew from the moment of his birth that he was tied to Mother’s heart strings and he could tug them at will.  As a child, he was the opposite of me.  He wasn’t inquisitive and preferred to play quietly wherever he was deposited.  He always sat on Mother’s right side and she rewarded him for this.  No matter what, I was relegated to her wrong side and deprived accordingly.  The more Mother gave him the greedier he became.  It was a game of emotional blackmail, which he played well, never having to earn his rewards.  Dad went about his life, followed his race horses and didn’t become involved.  How Mother spent her money was her business.

When Gary began school, I’d have two years of primary to go.  Of course, Mother entreated me to protect him from the crop of bullies, who inhabited that year’s senior class.  Unfortunately, the school’s bullying culture seemed to repeat with each new class, fuelled by teenage testosterone.  Whilst I’d honour my promise to Mother, the bullies wouldn’t dare harass my brother.  By that stage, I’d earn myself a level of respect from the other students both in the classroom and on the sports field.

Gary convinced Mother of his assumed intelligence, which she promoted to anybody with an open ear.  His false assumption led to woe and caught up with him.  He never passed the scholarship exam held at the end of primary school.  Mother concocted some hairbrained excuse to hide her embarrassment and foolishly hoped that his brilliance would shine in junior high.  It didn’t!  His subsequent marginal grades, with only a few averages, weren’t sufficient to earn him a path in life.  So, Mother sweet talked her sister’s husband to hire him as an apprentice baker.  Whilst Gary learnt to be a reasonable baker, he lamentably developed an appetite for his products.

As my life would progress, I’d consign my brother to its extremity.  He would be given everything I wouldn’t be.  However, despair and disaster always followed for him.  His choices led to obesity, an early heart attack, a heart transplant and an untimely death.  He was Mother’s cash funnel until the day she died.  Though, I’d need to face and overcome many obstacles, the world would rotate in my favour.  I’d become everything he didn’t.  I’d succeed and he’d fail at life.  I was the lucky child; I just didn’t know it!

[a-froger-epic]

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

J

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

J

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas - UA High School Host Club

In honour of Ouran’s second season after an eon of nothing, I present to you: a BNHA Ouran AU. Girls and boys in this club because it was more fun that way, not really a focus on romance, more an unending comedy of teenagers being stupid and having fun. 

Tamaki - Shouto

Here Shouto, while being the third son, is his father’s chosen heir to their private security company. Shouto’s rebellion was to be extra and flamboyant, casting off his father’s insistence that he be the perfect son. He’s very much gay but he plays any part for the host club - leaning into his sexuality rather than out of it is party a - rather successful - attempt to piss off his father.

He’s far more socialized than his canon counterpart, and while his father is still a dick he's more distant with impossibly high expectations with a nice dash of emotional abuse.

Second Year

 Kyoya - Momo

Momo is the youngest child of three in her family, always told she didn’t need to be smart because her destiny was to be married to a rich man and make her family proud. Shouto told her that was stupid and that she had better business sense than anyone he’d ever met and that he’d offer her a place at his company if he didn’t think she’d do better running her own. They run the host club together for fun, and for a way for Momo to flex her business muscle.

Second Year

 Huni - Ochako

She’s rich because she deserves it, only child and heiress to a very successful construction company. Don’t let her cute looks fool you, she's been hanging with tradies her whole life and she can swear like a sailor and benchpress the whole club. Her family has close ties to Tenya’s and he’s basically been her bodyguard their whole life - less because she's incapable, more because she looks cute and Tenya has always been built like a tank. 

Third Year, but she looks like a middle schooler 

 Mori - Tenya

Loves his older brother, second son of a massive transport company. His family quietly really wants him to marry Ochako, less because its good business (even though it is) and more because she's the only person who has ever been able to make him loosen up. He’s built like a quarterback and no one understands why. Star of the track team, joined the host club because Ochako did and realised it was kinda fun. He’s very propper which a lot of people find cute!

Third Year, built like a 28-year-old with a bit of a babyface. 

 Twins - Kirishima and Bakugo (doing a bromance thing)

Kirishima

His parents are from old money (Yakuza. They are Yakuza) and think he’s the cutest thing ever. He joined because he was friends with Shouto and Shouto promised it’d be a riot. It has been. Also might be using the fact its a school club to use school money to buy fancy food and fun costumes but that's not the point! 

First Year

Bakugo

His dad is a fashion designer and his mum is a model. He’s done a bit of both already and his looks make him popular but likes design way better. Pretends he hates the host club but secretly thrives off validation from others.

First Year

 Haruhi -Izuku 

Gives very few fucks about gender, most of his clothes are hand-me-downs so a lot of them are from female cousins and friends of his dad. Can’t be fussed cutting his hair so he lets it grow long so he gets mistaken for a girl a lot. Is he nonbinary? Probably! He hasn’t worked that out yet though, but he likes girls and boy’s clothes well enough and he doesn’t care what gender he gets called. 

Gifted in school but bullied pretty bad in middle school, he went for a scholarship to a fancy private school and got in on flying colours. The bullying isn’t nearly as bad as it was in middle school because the school is paid enough to actually care about its students. Still, entrance exams were expensive and he doesn’t have enough money yet to buy a uniform. Surely That Won't CauSe Any ProBlems.

His dad is Yagi Toshinori, an old police officer. His wife Inko passed away and he was horribly injured in a car accident. He had to take a long time off work to recover physically and emotionally and while money was tight before it got really tight when he wasn’t after his life passed. People say he should have just dumped Izuku because he wasn’t his biological son and he got terrifyingly angry so no one said that ever again. He can still kick your ass even if he’s skinny. He will kick your ass for the sake of his son.

  Not super important, but Hatsume is Renge and Shinsou is Kasanoda! Everyone is stupid and loves Izuku, Shouto is melodramatic, Touya snaps at one point and maybe tries to kill Izuku - you know! The usual!

[misssophiachase]

prompt- AH Klaroline. we usually see klaus developing feelings for caroline while she's in a relationship with someone else. i would like to see something where klaus has been in an established relationship with another girl and caroline realizes that she's developed feelings for him. (if you don't have time to do this one, don't worry about it).

Thanks nonnie, I love it so much! Inspired really. Got a bit carried away too, see notes at the end.

Synopsis: One wedding and a completely confused best man and maid of honour.

“And all you never say is that you love me so.”

All You Never Say

Caroline Forbes, Maid of Honour, Invites you to celebrate:

The Bachelorette Party for

Katherine Pierce

On Saturday fifteenth of June, twenty-twenty one at Connaught Bar, Mayfair, London at 2000h

Dress: Party Attire

One week before the nuptials - Connaught Bar, London England, 10:21pm

“What happened to the Kitty Kat I knew who’d usually be dancing on the bar right now and showing the stripper just how it’s done?” 

Although her tone was light and teasing, Caroline was a little disappointed given this was her best friend’s bachelorette party and there wasn’t a tacky veil or penis straw in sight. 

Also, they’d been forced to hire out a venue to avoid unwanted media attention before the big day so the atmosphere wasn’t quite what she was expecting either. 

The word lacklustre seemed a good word to describe it all.  

Maid of Honour Caroline had been banned from most fun things when organising Kat’s last night of ‘freedom’. 

“She’s marrying one of the United Kingdom’s most eligible bachelors, not to mention the youngest Minister in the Government’s Cabinet. That doesn’t really go with the wholesome reputation she’s trying to portray, Care,” Bonnie offered, eating the olive from her martini. “Although, I think it’s a shame you can’t put those pole dancing moves we learned in Cabo to good use.”

“This is one pathetic stripper, just saying,” Rebekah offered, joining them at the bar and stealing Bonnie’s drink from her outstretched hands.

“I was on the other side of the world, I could only go by his rating on the internet,” Caroline argued. “Plus, I also had to find one who kept some clothes on and we all know what that means.”

“What’s underneath doesn’t match the whole package,” Bonnie finished. “We don’t need to tip him, do we?”

When Katherine called Caroline thirteen months earlier to say she was engaged to Elijah, Caroline couldn’t have been happier. They’d all met each other at private boarding school and had stayed in touch ever since and even though they seemed like opposites, Kat and Elijah complemented one another. 

Also, Katherine’s job as head neurosurgeon at one of London’s most prestigious private hospitals and her impressive family inheritance greatly helped matters when it came to swaying his parents on the engagement. 

The Mikaelsons. 

Mikael and Esther were extremely wealthy and well-connected in English society.  They came from family money and owned a large and impressive property portfolio spanning the entire globe and had sent their children to the best boarding school the US had to offer.  

Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire. 

Caroline wasn’t wealthy like the rest of her friends. She’d be lying if that fact didn’t make her feel somewhat inferior. Her father owned the local general store and, if it weren’t for her scholarship, Caroline would have ended up in public school. Not that she would have minded but her father insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up. 

Attending the exclusive boarding school had been an adjustment to say the least and not just because of the ugly and uncomfortable uniforms they had to wear. Caroline was assigned to a room with three fellow students. 

Katherine Pierce, although the daughter of a talented cardiothoracic surgeon and a world class architect, was wild and impulsive and constantly in trouble with the dean for her indiscretions like sneaking out to meet boys and smoking on occasion. 

Bonnie Bennett was the gorgeous but serious high achiever whose parents owned one of the biggest publishing houses in the world. She was taught never to take anything for granted and work hard for what she wanted in life. 

Rebekah Mikaelson, while strong-willed and passionate, was the odd one out from the beginning. She made it her aim in life to drive the other girls crazy with her brittle personality and unwanted opinions. Although it took a while, and a few choice fights that needed to be broken up between her and Katherine, the girls became best friends. 

Rebekah’s brothers all attended the school at the same time but in different years with Elijah the eldest followed by Klaus then Kol and youngest sibling Rebekah.  

The Mikaelson boys and their best friend from home, Enzo St John, were definitely the most popular and sought after by the female student body. Caroline, not being one to conform, refused to play that game. She had no intention of stroking their egos any further, especially head womaniser Klaus. 

There was no doubting he was gorgeous, it ran in their family after all, but he knew it. 

Caroline found that she could have a fun time with Enzo, a deep and meaningful discussion with Elijah and a joke with Kol but when it came to Klaus all he did was tease her and rile her up. 

Of course she told herself it was because he was an immature idiot but wasn’t overly convinced it was the only reason given the looks she’d send his way when she knew no one was looking.  Caroline hoped whatever weird thing was happening would dissipate when they graduated. 

Kol and Bonnie had dated for a year at school, but apart from them they all stayed friends. So much so, that after they’d all graduated and gone their separate ways in life they still caught up for most significant occasions. 

This wedding being one of many. 

Katherine and Elijah had reconnected in Boston and, even though she always said he was too serious, they fell in love and were now on the verge of marriage. 

Caroline was so excited, if not about the bachelorette party. 

“Who are we kidding? I got the wild stuff out when you three were all too busy being good girls in boarding school,” she scoffed. Caroline wouldn’t admit it aloud but she had a point. “And there’s nothing stopping you three from getting up there with the stripper.” 

“Pass,” all three replied, looking up at him ominously. 

“How about we get out of here and see what the boys are up to?” Katherine suggested a twinkle in her brown eyes. 

“Because I think that defeats the purpose of a bachelorette party, Pierce,” Caroline drawled. “And this is Elijah, no offence but poker doesn’t sound all that exciting if you ask me.”

“Says the girl with the special poker skills,” Kat smiled deviously. “Klaus likes to think he’s the best player but we all know you could give him a run for his money. I’d say watching you fleece him is a fun way to spend an evening.”

Caroline had to admit angering the best man and her wedding partner certainly had its benefits. They’d seen each other in passing the previous day on arrival but otherwise hadn’t connected much recently because she was based on the West coast in Los Angeles and him on the East in New York City. 

He was the CEO of a prominent stockbroking firm and, by all reports, had been dating a Texan oil billionaire’s daughter and model, Hayley someone, for the past year.  

Okay, her surname was Marshall. 

She may have read a few editions of Page Six and seen them attending premieres and openings. She was sort of attractive.

Okay, she was gorgeous with big, brown doe eyes and a glossy chestnut mane and legs for days. 

Caroline told herself that she didn’t care more times than she could count but there was also something lingering beneath the surface with Klaus. She would have endeavoured to forget him after school had it not been for something that happened two years earlier and changed her opinion of him completely. 

Bastard.

And with that came the insecurity she hated. Even though she’d carved out a successful career as a human rights lawyer, she’d never fit into his life because she didn’t have a rich family or a huge inheritance like Hayley. Not that she cared but she knew his family did. 

She noticed her friends giving her weird looks, clearly she didn’t realise how much of a Klaus trance she’d descended into. 

“Sure. Why not?”

American Bar, Savoy Hotel, London 11:07pm 

“This is lame,” Kol scoffed, throwing his cards on the makeshift poker table. 

“He’s only saying that because he’s losing,” Enzo laughed, pulling the chips towards him greedily. 

“No, I’m saying that because this is no bachelor party,” he huffed, standing up and going to the bar to make himself another drink. “You couldn’t even organise one, measly stripper?”

As with the girls, the guys had hired out the venue for privacy reasons, not that they were actually doing anything untoward. 

Klaus had won the most money so far but he’d left the table to take a call from Hayley letting Enzo win a few rounds in his absence. She was arriving the next day for the wedding and was calling to check on the arrangements. 

Klaus was certain he’d told her multiple times but she was someone who liked things just right. But she also liked to call. 

A lot. 

At first he thought it was endearing but after a year he was starting to realise it was largely overkill. So too, her obsession with all things materialistic and celebrity and having to be at the opening of everything and anything. Klaus liked to keep more of a low profile if he could and that trait only reminded him of his parents and their chosen life together.

When he’d met her during a wild weekend in Miami, Klaus was immediately taken with her. He even thought it was love but decided that was just the tequila talking and it was most definitely lust. Klaus didn’t do relationships and he assumed she would be a momentary distraction until his parents had taken a strong liking to her.  Or more accurately to her wealth and family connections and future prospects for them. 

With Mikael and Esther it wasn’t much about love but what you did for a living and how much money your family had. Their marriage was case in point. 

Klaus wasn’t one to do what his parents told him but he’d long felt the black sheep given his secret paternity and decided it would be good to earn their favour for a change.  

There was also another reason to entertain the relationship, one that had made him realise that, no matter what, he was always going to have to settle for second best. 

“Are we interrupting anything?” Klaus looked up into the eyes of his future sister-in-law. He and Katherine had acted like siblings from the moment they met so to him her marriage to Elijah was inevitable.     

“Great!” Kol growled from his vantage point behind the bar. “Not only do I have to sit through this poor excuse for a party but now the girls have arrived.”

“Nice to see you too, Kol,” Bonnie said, raising her eyebrows. Although they’d dated over ten years ago everyone seemed to think something was still very much happening between them. 

“As much as I’m glad to see my beautiful fiance,” Elijah smiled, standing so he could pull her into his arms affectionately. “I’m not sure this is the done thing.”

“Oh, you mean like strippers, brother?” 

“You’re more than welcome to our stripper, Kol, we only left him in Mayfair about ten minutes ago so you might be able to catch him if you’re lucky,” Rebekah teased, swiping a few of Enzo’s prized chips from the table.

“Oi, woman!” He muttered, attempting to take it back while she squealed in response. 

Rebekah and Enzo had been play fighting since he was eleven and she was nine.  The rest of the group all knew it was unresolved tension that would finally sort itself out some day so were just waiting for it to click into place. 

“So, what you’re telling me is that the girls were allowed to have a stripper?” Clearly, Kol wasn’t letting this one go easily. 

“Oh would you please shut up, little brother, does it shock you that Elijah didn’t actually want one?” Klaus barked, his brother wearing on his last nerve. 

For the most part his gaze had been surreptitiously trained on the maid of honour.  Attired in a little, black dress that hugged her in all the right places it was incredibly distracting.  She was also wearing her hair just how he liked it, loose and a little wild. How many times had he imagined running his fingers through those waves? Too many to count.

Yes, Caroline Forbes was his dirty little secret. One that he had every intention of keeping because it would do him no good to reveal it. 

“I promise that when you get married I’ll book out an entire strip club,” Enzo offered, stealing the chip from Rebekah’s grasp while she wasn’t watching and sending her a triumphant smirk. “Happy?”

“Are we playing poker or what?” Caroline asked. This got his attention. Klaus looked over at her, his eyebrows cocked curiously. 

“You play poker, love?”

“I dabble,” she replied, taking a seat at the table. “I mean, I used to play with my grandpa when I was about ten. Pretty sure the rules haven’t changed much since then.” It would have been adorable if Klaus wasn’t so competitive by nature. 

“We are playing for real money here,” he warned, giving her one last chance to back out. “I mean I wouldn’t want to take advantage.” 

“I’m a big girl and can take care of myself,” she shot back. “So, just deal the cards, Mikaelson.” 

The others took their place and the game was restarted, even Kol seemed to have gotten out of his funk to play. The first hand went like this:

“All red,” Rebekah smiled triumphantly, laying her cards on the table. After betting her entire bank it was sufficed to say she was out from the get-go. 

“All red? Seriously, little sister? Can you please take her away Enzo and never let her play ever again,” Klaus muttered through gritted teeth. How were they even related?

Second hand ended in Katherine and Elijah being expelled for too much PDA at the poker table. Neither of the love birds minded a little time out in the corner. 

Third hand came down to a poor display of bluffing from Kol while Bonnie complained because all she wanted to do was play Go Fish because it was more entertaining.

Then there were two.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just give in, Forbes?” Klaus asked, leaning back lazily in his chair.  She was studying her cards carefully. Most hands she’d folded before betting anything and he was starting to realise she was too careful, much like the girl he knew in real life.   

“Give me a minute,” she hissed, fastening a loose wave behind her ear. Klaus could tell it was a sign of a bad hand but at the same time he wished he was the one to place it there. 

“Okay, I want three cards,” she asked, placing the discarded ones face down. 

“Maybe you should just fold, love?” He asked, partly because he was concerned but also because Klaus knew he was that accomplished. His straight flush was looking extremely good right now. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do, ass,” she offered, noting his shocked look in response. “I was just trying to counter your love with something equally fitting.”

“Fine,” he murmured trying to pretend not to feel dejected. “Three cards.”

She took them and again studied them closely. Meanwhile the rest of the group had gathered around, no doubt sensing this was their last hand and everyone could finally go home. 

“Okay, how about we stop beating around the bush and I just bet everything I have,” she said pushing it all into the middle. 

“You’re bluffing,” he blurted out, knowing it was impossible she had a hand to beat his flush. 

“I guess you’ll have to bet to find out,” she smiled. All he wanted to do was kiss it off her face and that was just for starters. He shook his head reminding himself that he needed to relax. 

“Call,” she said, her expression serious. They held each other’s gaze for a prolonged period, Klaus telling himself it was to try and read the poker signs but that wasn’t it at all. He suddenly realised that he could stare at her for hours and never tire. 

Not just hours, forever maybe.  

He cleared his throat knowing that everyone was now watching in anticipation. 

“Straight flush,” he grinned proudly, laying it out on the table. She gave it a brief look before placing hers next to his. 

“All red.” Given it was a ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace of diamonds, also known as a royal flush, she was clearly being facetious. 

“You played me, Forbes.” He finally uttered amongst the cheers and Rebekah’s insistence that she must have had a winning hand all along. 

She pulled the chips towards her happily choosing not to respond immediately. His eyes were still trained on her though, desperate for some kind of response.

“And you underestimated me, Mikaelson,” she murmured. 

Yes. Maybe he had underestimated her and everything else.

TBC - Next part will be up tomorrow PM..there’s a chance encounter in the middle of the night, a rehearsal dinner and a slight wedding mishap before the big day. But let me know what you think so far : ) 

Follow on AO3 HERE

[razieltwelve]

I noticed that very few of your characters curse and when they do, it's either in calm&collected anger or in a sexy way. The gap between this and Erik IV cursing in official messages out of annoyance is hilarious.

You can't be a majestic rule all the time, and Erik IV was done with his plans getting interrupted all the time. Moreover, he was even more annoyed since the respective leaders of the Alliance and Federation basically said "they're closer to you, so they're your problem" and left him to deal with it.

All of that aside, Erik IV is fondly remember by historians for doing so much to increase the number of habitable worlds in the Empire. His final count of terraformed worlds at the time of his death was in excess of 10,000. That's a tremendous number, and he oversaw a raft of improvements and innovations that have been followed ever since, which allow for the far quicker terraforming of worlds on a much larger scale.

Terraforming was once under the auspices of the Department of Logistics. Under Erik IV, a new department was created. The Department of Settlement was specifically tasked with the acquisition or creation of more habitats suitable for settlement. However, members of the department have always referred to themselves by a different name.

Erik's Brilliant Bastard Brigade.

The name comes from one of his motivational speeches in which he said the following of the people working for him:

"Fuck the Department of Logistics. I don't need their help because I've got a brigade of the most most brilliant bastards who've ever lived working for me!"

The official letterhead of the Department of Settlement still uses that title during the reign of Averia VII. They are, to date, the only department that uses profanity on any of their official documents.

During Final Effect, the Department of Settlement is run by arguably the most badass cat in the galaxy. Fluffy (named after the legendary curmudgeon of a cat) is an uplifted cat who grew up on the streets after his family was killed in a Grimm attack and he fell through the cracks in the chaos that followed.

Rather than quit on life, Fluffy told life to get fucked and somehow clawed his way to survival before clawing his way to a scholarship at a local university. Despite still living on the street and having to scrounge around for scraps to get by and kill vermin to earn a living, Fluffy graduated with honours and was accepted at the University of Awesomeness on Lumina Prime.

Not content with kicking ass and taking names in his own star system, he proceeded to kick ass and take names on Lumina Prime becoming the first uplifted cat to ever rank in the top five of his degree. He subsequently undertook the Masters program before eventually acquiring a PhD after stepping over the mangled academic bodies of his fellow students.

Fluffy would get a job in the Department of Settlement where his take-no-prisoners, never-say-die, tell-the-world-to-get-fucked approach made him extremely popular and successful. He would eventually take over after his predecessor stepped down after decades of good service to fulfil a life long dream by become an award-winning potato farmer on a planet the department had terraformed.

As a head of a major department, Fluffy is authorised to sit on the Imperial Council that advises Averia VII. He's been extremely busy with the events in Final Effect since they're getting lots of new territory.

As an aside, his best friend on Averia VII's council is the Minister of Finance. Although the Minister of Finance is an elderly gent who was raised on one of the most well-to-do worlds as the scion of an exceptionally wealthy family, he was one of the first to vocally support Fluffy’s ascension to Minister of Settlement where many others were sceptical.

In his words:

"Our colleagues at the Department of Settlement have never been ones to tolerate mediocrity or nepotism. If Fluffy is considered qualified to be their leader, then I shall defer to their history of good judgement. Moreover, in the time that I have known him, Fluffy has proven to be exceptionally talented and hard working. I do not see a ruffian or a cat, as others have claimed. Instead, I see a loyal and upstanding citizen of the Empire who wishes only to serve it to the very best of his ability. I would be glad to have such an individual on my staff. A great citizen should be judged by their actions and not by their proclivity toward profanity. Fluffy's actions have made it clear that he is, indeed, a great citizen of the Empire and a tireless servant of the public, as all ministers should be."

Fluffy famously replied:

"You're pretty fucking awesome, old man. Let's go grab some booze."

Yeah. As you can imagine, those council meetings can get pretty interesting.

[hereisleo]

stardust in our veins/

w/ s.mg x reader

g/ college!au, fluff, budding romance

w.count/ 2814

a.n/ in which upcoming astrophysicist and model song mingi is in a dilemma over the soon to be love of his life. a part of ‘back to school’ writing event with @kpopscape

t.w/ swearing

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

Well, fuck. Mingi thinks his luck is the worst. The one time he needed the universe to make sense of course it wouldn’t. Then again turning to his astrophysics texts for guidance in the matter of love is the wrong place to start. Love doesn’t make sense like the universe, much of it still undiscovered and will continue to remain so. There’s only so much humans can learn and that by no means is little. He’s simply too finite to understand all the ways the universe has to offer. The perks of being mortal in his opinion.

His phone lights up, a notification appears on his screen. Don’t be late, Min! Right, he has to model for his friend tonight. He sends a quick confirmation text, a little cute onomatopoeia of ‘ang!’ Out of place with his stoic exterior yet that’s how he is, best of both worlds. Mathematics and astrophysics. Fashion industry and music. He could make it anywhere he wants to be. Mingi is confident in himself, he knows he has most of the skills set required to pursue all of his dream occupations. So he straightens the loose pages of a printed pdf file and tuck them into its folder. He could buy the textbooks but why would he do that? He likes to eat the rich so to speak. All his earnings go to tuition and he would live smartly to make it through another year.

The chair squeaks in the quiet library and he winces, slightly apologetic at the flinches from students studying in the library. He doesn’t dwell much in it, he slings his back over his shoulder and pushes his chair in, lifting it a touch to prevent the grating noise. He nods at the librarian and mouths his, ‘bye.’ And it’s just him and his little kidney beans, AirPods, pumping music into his ears. He makes his way around the ground, weaving through passing students going to different classes, the stares he receives are not foreign. He’s used to it. He’s always a head and some more taller than the average or maybe it’s his clothes or his colourful hair or the way he carries himself is out of place within the Department of Astrophysics. Mingi looks like someone from the Department of Arts. A fashion or music student. Some would say he’s here because of an athletic scholarship. He is simply exercising his freedom to wear whatever he wants.

Sik-K’s “Habibi” starts playing and he mumbles his curses, a love and hate relationship he has with his playlist. He just managed to distract himself from thinking about love and here he is, back to wallow in his one-sided pining. Pitiful. You’re pathetic, Song Mingi. His strides languidly back to his shared apartment, not too far off from campus, he could take the car but he likes to walk when the weather is nice. He wonders when did he begin liking you. The first time he sees you is in the Arts building when you were fitting his feline-like friend into a stage costume. He thinks he fell for how your brow knits together in concentration as your fingers deftly repaired loose embellishment of pearls on the velvet suit jacket. He vividly recalls how inky the fabric was, similar to the sky that night, Mars was visible from the big window at the fashion studio. He would catch glimpses of you here and there and because of that, his visits to the Arts building increased. His friends caught on immediately and they wouldn’t live it down.

Before he knows it, he’s already punching the security codes on his door. A happy greeting of his name falls short with an amused laugh. Even his best friend could tell, he’s wallowing in his feelings. Mingi whines, kicking his shoes off before unceremoniously taking all the space on the couch. Good thing his playlist has come to its end, he takes out the little kidney beans from his ears and let it rest on the coffee table.

“Love doesn’t make sense, Yunho,” he groans, burying his face against the giant brown bear plushie. A hand pats his head, “Love doesn’t make sense and so does the universe yet you love them the same.” Mingi thinks Yunho has been skimming through his astrophysics texts but highly unlikely, Yunho doesn’t enjoy reading. He sighs and nuzzles deeper into the belly of the soft toy. Hell, he much rather snuggle with you but alas you’re a distant star out of his reach. He could only see you behind the lenses of his telescope. He will make do with the bear and his friends for now. He likes being alone, he likes his space but he hates the feeling of loneliness that comes out to play every once in a while. More often now since he has you to pin over. His friends could only do so much for him.

Fuck you, Kim Hongjoong. Mingi keeps his head low and skirts around the photographer. You. He isn’t not aware you’ll be shooting him today, figuratively and literally. Yeosang has a shit eating grin on his face when Mingi sits on the chair to get his makeup done. “Not a word, Yeosang,” he mumbles and the grin widens. His friend only wipes his face clean before starting off with a quick skincare. He’s used to this, the gentle toner in white and blue packaging and the light cream patted into his skin. His friend went the length to purchase them specifically for him. He keeps his eyes trained on the mirror, tracking your movements all over the studio, talking to Hongjoong, toying with the navy and silver camera strap. He remembers buying the strap for Jongho when the old one was too worn out for use. It reminds him of the starry sky and it’s now in your hold. He bites his lip, it shouldn’t feel intimate yet here he is almost astral projecting because it feels as if you are holding part of his universe. Stop it, Mingi!

His pseudo makeup artist taps his abused lip with a warning tut, a red stain is smudged lightly before a clear gloss is patted over them so it doesn’t dry out his lips. Yeosang always scolds him for having chapped lips and this time Mingi sports dark smokey eyes, he could see hints of burgundy mixed into the brown shadows. Yeosang gives him a wink before sending him off to change. Hongjoong is a genius for designing outfits and he’s honoured to be one of the models walking in it. He wishes nothing but the best for the clothing line launch to be successful but he would be lying if he doesn’t want to wipe the smirk off the designer’s face right now.

Your fingers graze the skin of his back, his shoulders tensed and he presses his lips together to prevent any noise from escaping his mouth. Fuck this shoot. You’re just pinning his jeans because it’s slightly too big. Mingi wants to run home into the comfort of his bed and screams. Your radiating body heat is so warm and perhaps this is as close as he would ever to touch you, the human embodiment of the universe. He shouldn’t be this hypersensitive yet here he is flustered beyond his imagination. His lungs feel like they are collapsing. You are the 3-degree temperature difference in intergalactic space he learned about. His body couldn’t manage to reach equilibrium. Being around you makes his blood cells want to burst, the lack of atmospheric pressure puts a dizzy spell on him. Mingi thinks you’re an amazing being like the supercharged subatomic particles travelling almost just as fast as the speed of light. There’s only 0.1% difference. Magnificent.

Hongjoong and Yeosang smirk at his struggles. They are no strangers to his ‘internally screaming’ countenance. Mingi would have book it if they let him suffer any longer. He takes one look into the mirror, the long leather coat adds some invisible height to him, he appears taller than he already is and the chunky ribbed turtleneck accentuate his long neck. He glances over to the few more pieces hanging on the rack. Hongjoong kills it with the A/W capsule collection. He couldn’t wait to get into the patchwork trench coat and the purple overshirt that catches his attention since the prototype era. The universe has expanded further into infinity since then.

A gentle call of his name and the barely there touch on his back jolts him out of his reverie, eyes boring into yours almost bewitched. Your hand is right over where his birthmark is hidden under the layers of fabrics. “Mingi?” Your voice. Damnit, it’s so soft to his ears and the way his name rolls off your tongue raises the hairs on his arms. He dazedly hums in response, “Yes, stars?” The composition of a human being is as old as the universe itself, there are stardust running in the veins of mortals. He sees the brightest stars in your eyes. He doesn’t realise what he just called you, the term of endearment he refers you as in his head slips out to be immortalised. Sound waves travel into space and beyond, he can’t take back what he said. Your cheek is hot under his fingertips, in moments of bravery or stupidity, Mingi manages to string together a sentence, “Let’s take some pictures shall we?”

Bless Hongjoong for hooking up the music. He would run away if Taemin’s “Criminal” didn’t start playing. Don’t explode now. One more step to the front of the red backdrop. What foolish action did he do? How did he have the courage to talk to you and more over actually feel your skin under his fingers? He wants to scream and curl up on the floor. I did not just do that! Yeosang gives him a thumbs up for the corner of the studio. Thank heavens for his friends. He lets the electronic beats fill him and he loses himself in the act. His friends once told him, he’s a good actor. Now is the time for him to maximise the skill. A teasing drag of his bottom lip between his teeth, the smouldering gaze as he pierces through the camera lens straight at you just as the lyrics spews, ‘Destroy me more.’ Two can play this game and Mingi finds it relieving to find he’s not the one who is affected. It doesn’t quite make sense to you how he likes you and it doesn’t quite make sense to him how you like him. He’s not built for chasing love but now he knows you do have an interest in him, he takes the liberty to pursue it. He wouldn’t pour his love onto you yet. He has class and he’s not going to do anything that might spook you. Yes, he acts like an idiot sometimes but he’s not an idiot. He wants to make sure if you really have taken a liking of him or if he’s merely a passing interest. He doesn’t like getting hurt.

One wardrobe change and then two, the playlist continuous on, the hours blurred together. Mingi is in his last outfit, lying on the brown leather couch covered with colourful rugs and you’re hovering over him with the DSLR. He gives you, no, he means the camera, his best smirk and provocative lift of his eyebrow. From the corner of his eyes, Yeosang and Hongjoong are curling into each other to stifle bubbling laughter while monitoring all the shots appearing on the computer. The addictive riff of “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer has him unbuttoning the purple overshirt. His friends are slapping each other and he hears you take sharp intake of breath. He is enjoying this way too much and he might as well. If he’s going to explode now is the time. Before the night ends, before the sky lightens, he would explode like a supernova, powerful and bright enough for its light to glow for more than a week. It’s rather selfish of him to make himself linger in your mind in a rather unorthodox fashion but he couldn’t help it, the opportunity is there for the taking. At some point the two nuclei would collide to create a new element, Mingi hopes it’s his and yours.

The following day Mingi wakes up to a series of texts in the group chat. The sheer amount of caps lock yelling are not anything new so he didn’t check it yet. He raises his arms and lets his muscles sing with the stretch. His feet kiss the cool floor and he makes his way out to do his day off routine. “Morning, Yunho,” he greets, his voice still rough from sleep, it sounds deeper even to his own ears. He hears his roommate rustling about in the living room and feet padding hurriedly to his direction, “Afternoon already, Min! And you can’t say that nonchalantly after what you did last night! You didn’t tell me this!” What did he do last night? Ah, right! He was modelling for Hongjoong, saw you and flirted with you indirectly through the camera lens. Yunho shoves his phone in front of him.

An A-cut photograph from the shoot is attached in the chat by Hongjoong. He was in the half open purple overshirt and sunglasses hanging between his teeth, glaring straight at whoever is looking at the picture. Consecutive texts from his friend group are under it, nothing but praises and Yunho is always first to compliment him. My best friend right there! Following the trail of text bubbles, he finds a short video. He presses the play button and immediately blushes, hiding his face in his hands with an exasperated sound. Last night model Mingi was brave enough to reach for the camera. In fact, he reached past it and cradled your cheek in his palm. “It was for the shoot!” Yunho pockets his phone. “Mingi. You eye fucked the camera through and through. In fact, it’s not the camera, it’s your ‘stars’.” The mirth in Yunho’s voice is enough to draw another whine from him. He couldn’t find fault in his best friend’s statement.

He has to go back in again today and how is he supposed to face you? I should call in sick. Yet with that thought he still works the coffee machine, his body moving rotely and his friend sidles next to him to help him with lunch. He could still sense the excitement radiating from the puppy-like man. An avocado toast later, Mingi is sent out with a cheery, “Have fun!” The little kidney beans are back in his ears, a mellow summer song soothes his pounding heart. The moon peeks between buildings as if to tell him it’s rooting for him. In such an aspect, he thanked the pile of regolith and dead volcanoes hanging in space.

His takes longer strides to the campus ground, arriving earlier than expected, his body understands the excited energy simmering under his skin. To see you standing in front of the Arts building entrance sparks something in him. Don’t do or say anything weird, Mingi. He breaks into a jog, calling your name properly this time. It’s an exaggeration but this is what he thinks being struck by a space debris must feel like. The shy wave of your hand and the sunlight blanketing your skin are enough to set his heart racing. “You look different today.” He supposed he does look different to you. Your encounters with him are always within the confinement of Hongjoong’s studio. You never see him in his casual state, so the messy, half wet hair from the shower earlier, the all sweats get-up he is in and the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose are foreign to you. Hell, you never see him cooing at a soft toy or notice how slow he eats. “Have you eaten yet?” That’s good, Min, that’s a safe question. You nod with a smile, pocketing away your phone, “Just enough to get through the meeting.” Mingi wants to curl up on the floor, what is he going to do with your undivided attention on him?

“Shall we grab something together afterwards?” He curls his hands into fist within the pockets of his sweatpants. What the hell did he just ask you? He needs that space debris to smite him out of existence right now. The endearing shy smile on curving your cheeks upwards has him biting his tongue. Mingi thinks a space debris really has vaporised him, your answer leaving him a stuttering blushing mess. “It’s a date then.”

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

[roradraws]

Let the Academic Hunger Games Begin!

I’ve had a little social media break the last few weeks (blame crippling anxiety), but I’m getting back into the swing of things as I start my new year at Uni.

I’m in Honours now.

I’m going to take a moment to really let that sink in (for myself). I never thought I’d get this far. Before I continue, I think it’s important to acknowledge the hardships and struggles I went through to get here. I actually made it. 

I actually made it.

That said... Honours is crazy. By that, I mean many people in my class are in the same boat as me: impoverished, low-income students, people with disabilities and struggles with lower-class employment and exploitation, and with little-to-no resources to help them. Most importantly, we’re all gunning for a PhD scholarship. 

WE’RE ALL GOING FOR THE SAME SCHOLARSHIP!!!

Dozens of talented, hardworking people are destroying their minds and bodies so they can win a ticket out of poverty and into the middle-class. Just middle-class.

And that’s, apparently, totally okay from the uni and government’s perspective. It’s just another locked gate the working class have to try and contort their bodies through the iron bars or die trying. 

This is my long-winded way of saying, I’m back. More art soon, and probably another blog that I will use to post updates on my Honours project (more on that another time).

Hope you’re all well!

xoxo. 

Rora.

[bakuraryxu]

oh right so ive been pondering on why my honours year so far seems relatively stress free? like everything is chugging along nicely and i wonder if its because im not working this year i have a couple scholarships and i get student payments. ALL my time is devoted to my coursework and thesis? i keep hearing horror stories about students having meltdowns and how stressful honours is etc etc. im like omg? so far i feel fine??? like am i doing this wrong or am i genuinely ok?

[marmolady]

Livita: Part Two

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART ONE and PART THREE.

Word Count: 3545

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr​ @saivilo​ @greengroove 

San Trobida, March 2023

 The months initially dragged by; the nervous wait for those vital early milestones agonising. Life had taught Estela that nothing good ever came easily; at any moment this could all turn to tragedy-- she woke up each morning with no expectation that she wouldn’t have lost the baby by the next. Taylor was far more secure in her optimism, though at times it did threaten to crumble. Some five weeks in, the pair were married, officially, in the grounds of Catalyst International’s new San Trobidan resort, surrounded, of course, by their extended family. At the end of the night, Estela had said ‘screw you’ to fate, and confided her condition to her tio, who had wept with joy. His belief in her, the support unyielding as always, did wonders to help her through those most vulnerable days.

After the twelve week scan, there was a joint exhale of relief, and the reality that this was happening at last began to set in. Through those early months, home was San Trobida with Tio Nicolas. In time, Estela and Taylor would return to La Huerta, where they had always planned to raise their child, close to Aleister and Grace’s own little family, and to Diego and Varyyn. Estela would not be fit to travel for a whole lot longer, though, so the time spent with her uncle was precious.  While in San Trobida, Taylor was faced with a rush to establish her youth programmes during the brief window in which she’d be available with her full attention. The country was in the midst of a great rebirth, its people boldly stepping out from the shadows left by the cruel dictatorship that the revolutionaries had brought to its knees. To be able to play her own part in that story was, to Taylor, an immense honour, and a responsibility she took very seriously. Those fleeting months were intense, with meetings on top of meetings and enough networking to test even her people skills. Once the baby arrived, everything else would take a back seat, and her role would be as a part-time counsellor specialising in LGBTQ+ youth, and a mentor to students-- all of which she could carry out from their La Huerta home.

Estela had slowly dialed back her role with Catalyst International-- with both herself and Aleister on parental duties, delegation had become increasingly necessary. She kept up with the few bits and pieces that interested her, primarily assistance and scholarships for San Trobidan students, which allowed her to work nicely in tandem with Taylor, but anything else could be someone else’s problem. Staying with her uncle, a sense of peace had descended upon Estela. Her body gradually changed-- and morning sickness had plagued her-- but she took it in her stride.

The front door creaked as Taylor strode through. “Honey, I’m home!” She found Estela sitting cross-legged on the couch, leafing through a collection of baby sewing patterns. “Hey, are you feeling better?”

“Better. You didn’t have to come home….”

“As if I need an excuse to be with you.” Taylor crossed the room, and sat herself beside her wife. “I finished what I needed to get done. So, I got myself back to where I needed to be.”

Estela huffed happily. “I won’t complain. Maybe we could work on that blanket some more. You know how much of a kick Tio gets out of the sight of me knitting.”

“Yeah,” Taylor giggled. “He laughs, but I’m pretty sure he knows you are more than capable of disemboweling someone with those needles if a threat came up.”

“Of course. A spear could never be so subtle.”

They laughed together, then Estela took Taylor’s hands. “Actually, I wanted to share something with you, in my room. We can knit at the same time.”

Estela’s old room had changed little since she was a teenager; it was a cramped but cosy space, decked out with just a few shelves of childhood possessions and faded photographs upon a narrow dresser. Nowadays, alongside the charred-edged photo of a young Estela on the beach with her mother and uncle, was another of Estela-- now older, far more battle-scarred and world-weary-- on the very same beach, her arms around a smiling Taylor. Sat on that worn single bed, Estela could enjoy the comfort of familiarity as she carried on her journey toward a great unknown… and with her wife beside her, she found the courage to face the shadows that crept in along with those memories.

“Gordita, I made you up some of your horrible patacones,” Nicolas announced, pushing open the bedroom door with a shoulder as he presented a large plate. Since the pregnancy had been announced, Estela had been his gorda, with no care paid to how small her bump might actually be. At six months along, though, the belly was living up to that new nickname. “I despair. You get rid of one dictator, and suddenly we have jumped-up young people thinking they can eat peanut butter and jelly with their patacones. Is this the terrible price of freedom? Have I made a grave error?”

Estela snorted with laughter, taking the plate as her uncle kissed her forehead. “And yet you made these up for me; I must be very loved.”

“Always, mija. But you should notice there are some with mango salsa for your poor wife. I won’t have her suffer for your insanity.”

Taylor smiled, gratefully taking a patacone.Nicolas has been doting on the both of them relentlessly since the news had been broken-- Taylor didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so happy. When the time finally came for them to leave for La Huerta, it would be a great wrench. “Cheers! You’re the best.”

“I’ll have that in writing, Taylita.” Nicolas’ eyes twinkled as he looked over his nieces. The time was fast approaching that they would be on their way again, ready to start the greatest of adventures. He would miss them so. La Huerta had never been a draw to him-- he’d not visited once-- but there was no doubt in his mind that even his stubbornness would have to concede once Estela had that baby in her arms. There was not a force on heaven or earth that could keep him away. “Okay, gorda. I will leave you to it. I’m sure you’ll let me know if you have any other culinary abominations you want me to whip up.”

“Thanks, Tio.”

Alone together in their small sanctuary, Estela and Taylor cuddled close. Taylor braved a nibble of one of Estela’s controversial patacones and admitted that Nicolas had a point. Those things just weren’t right.

“I’m with Tio,” she said. “Our little nene has played havoc on your taste buds.”

Estela chuckled, more forced than she’d have liked. There was something else on her mind. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Hey. Are you okay? You had something you wanted to show me?”

For a moment, Estela considered changing her mind. It had been over a decade that she’d avoided this, what was to say that now was suddenly the right time? The bump of a little foot up against her ribs gave her clarity. She wanted to show this to her baby someday; that meant she had to brave it. She pulled up her laptop and placed it on the bedside table, then rummaged in a drawer, taking out a disc.

“It’s… it’s our old home videos.” She took a deep breath. “Tio put it on a DVD ages back to make sure we didn’t lose it, and he had an extra copy made for me. You know, just in case I ever….” Her cheeks became pink. “I… I haven’t watched this for a long time.” How long, she didn’t say, but she didn’t doubt that Taylor would know, understand.

Taylor squeezed her wife, her own pulse quickening. She knew this was huge. “I would love to watch with you. So much. But only if you’re really ready.”

“I think sometimes, the closest thing you’re ever going to get to being ready is wanting to be.” Estela offered a wobbly smile as she picked up on Taylor’s concern. “Mi amor, I’m okay. I’m doing this with you.”

She leaned into Taylor as the DVD began to play. Then came a voice that made her heartbeat quicken.

“Hola Nicolas!” Olivia said, waving with one hand, while she supported the small infant Estela with the other. “Here she is! This is your niece. This is Estela.”

Taylor felt Estela’s hand clench around the bottom of her shirt, clinging on for comfort. She placed her own hand on top and gently squeezed. I’m here.

They watched as Olivia placed the infant in a bassinet, then picked up the camera to give a tour of her home.

“So, this is the first place I lived; my mom’s apartment in Colombia,” Estela explained, her voice shaking at first, then steadying. This… didn’t hurt as much as she’d anticipated. If anything, it was a comfort. The last pieces of film she’d seen of her mother had been that horrifying footage in the Elysian, and the VR warning message from Olivia’s office in the MASADA complex. This was Estela’s mother as she knew her, the person she’d been missing so painfully. There was the inevitable pang of longing as she looked at that face, but the wash of memories made her seem closer than she’d been for so many years. “It was a few months before she had everything sorted so we could move to Tio Nicolas’ place, so Mom made a videotape to send him. A friend at the lab she worked at gave her the camera; it was so Tio could see the new baby, but we used it a long time after that.”

With the apartment tour complete, the camera was placed down on some unseen table or stand, and Olivia came back into the frame, picking up baby Estela and cradling her in her arms.

“If you’re lucky, you might get a smile out of her,” Olivia said, grinning as she gently tickled Estela under her chin. “The twentieth of July was her first real smile. You’re going to laugh at me, but I cried. Maybe you’ll get it when you meet her. She’s just so, so beautiful. I swear I’m addicted to this girl.”

Taylor snuggled under Estela’s arm, and watched, entranced, as the baby on the screen grew and changed under the loving care of her mother, and then uncle as well.

“Wow, Tio Nicolas looks different!” she commented, to Estela’s chuckle. Time, unimaginable stress, and facial hair could do that to a person. It was impossible not to smile as she watched the young Nicolas bouncing his little niece on his foot. That he’d be utterly, totally smitten with Estela’s own child had to be the surest thing in the world. Taylor saw on that screen an image of a dream come true, a future that now lay before her and Estela. God, could I be any more clucky right now?

“That’s going to be us, Taylor. Our own little family.”

Instinctively, Taylor put her hand to Estela’s bump, stroking it. Her family with her soulmate; it wasn’t what she’d been made for, but she was certain it was what she was meant for.

“I’m going to be someone’s mom. When I think about it, it’s just… incredible.” She cuddled in close, and gently kissed Estela’s cheek and forehead. “It means so much that you shared this with me.” She gestured to the screen. That had taken a whole lot of bravery. “Watching this… I see so much of you when I see your mom.”

“She would have been an amazing abuelita,” Estela said softly. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Her mother’s sacrifice had brought her to Taylor. This new family would carry a great deal of Olivia Montoya’s influence, though she’d never know. “Thank you. I know it’s silly for me to say this, but I really appreciate you saying that. I’m gonna do her proud.”

The child on the screen was older now, toddling around the so-familiar house on stumpy legs. She held in her arms a soft doll.

“Oh-- that’s Babydoll. I was… creative at naming things when I was two. Mami gave him to me on my birthday, and I just took him everywhere. It always made sense to me; there was no way in hell Mami would ever leave me it home, so how could I ever leave my baby?”

“So, when you say you always wanted to be a mom?”

“Yeah, it goes back a long way.” Estela stroked her belly, meeting Taylor’s hand there. “I’m glad I had no idea just how rough the path would be… how that dream just burned and died. But we’re going to get there.”

She could see it. A lot of what had made her childhood had been lost in a wash of pain and trauma, but it couldn’t be taken away completely. Those memories, there before her, they were still a part of her. Those warm family moments were hers to pass on to her own child.

“Actually, I think Mom kept Babydoll. Maybe as a souvenir of my brief period of childhood innocence. I should dig him out--” She faltered, and her cheeks flushed. This shouldn’t still be a problem….

Catching on in an instant, Taylor squeezed Estela’s knee, and met her eye with a warm and loving gaze. “We have time. And if we need to enlist Tio Nicolas to do most of the necessary rummaging, that’s fine too. It would be really nice for nene to have something of yours.” Memories were powerful. They made up so much of who each person was. Lacking her own childhood, Taylor had found herself gain a great deal from Estela’s, something that had always been generously shared with no hesitation, in spite of the pain that came with those memories. That family history was important, and it bonded them together.

With a small, appreciative smile, Estela nodded. “Yes… we have time.”

  La Huerta, May 2023

 “Right; tell me. Which end am I kissing?” Taylor scooched forward in the sand, reveling in the gentle heat of the lowering sun upon her back and shoulders.

“That’ll be nene’s back.” Estela gestured to her lower belly, then the top. “Head. Butt. Right where they should be.”

Taylor smiled warmly, and went back to lay another kiss against her wife’s swollen abdomen. “Bub’s got it all worked out. Ready to high-tail it outta there and start lapping up the cuddles.”

“It’s come around fast,” Estela stated. It had. Almost too fast. Pregnancy had been an adjustment for sure, but she’d become comfortable with sharing her body with the small passenger. She could take care of herself, and that meant that baby’s needs were met too. What came next was a great unknown. Estela knew better than most how good intentions of keeping a beloved child out of harm’s way could go up in flames. What her life had been… grateful though she was for the person it had made her, she didn’t want a life like that for her baby. She could tell herself that it would be different, that the fight was over, but she’d seen too much to not be protective. The person she might have gone to for reassurance, the person who’d truly have understood, was long lost to her. Rarely had Estela missed her own mother more than in these days leading up to the big event. It made her all the more grateful for Taylor; already completely besotted with the tiny person they were waiting to meet. In Taylor, her loving hero, she had all the faith in the world.

“Yeah...” Taylor put on a forlorn gaze as she looked up into Estela’s shining eyes. “Just a few more days, and I won’t be able to outrun you anymore. I’m pretty devastated.”

“You’re a beautiful dork, Taylor. But don’t worry. You’ll be able to keep ahead of nene for a few years, if you’re lucky.”

Taylor snuggled into Estela’s lap, and together, they watched the sun journey towards the horizon. The rising tide licked at their bodies. All was peaceful, tranquil; the only sounds were the rolling of the waves, the calls of tropical birds, and the distant laughter of children in Elyys’tel, voices carried upon the wind. Taylor quietly studied Estela from head to toes, taking in everything. The pregnancy had added further lines to Estela’s scar-painted body; marks of something happy at last. Her carriage gave off a quiet confidence; the baby was safe in its strong, resilient vessel. And in Estela’s face, once the vision of heavy burdens, so great that it might might have been those of the whole world… quiet, happy serenity. Taylor felt a wave of affection wash over her. It happened to her a lot. Goodness knew how she’d ever get anything done when she had Estela and the baby to love on all day.

“Estela?”

“Mi amor?”

“You know, I think a part of me is going to miss this. Being able to put my arms around you and hold the two people I love most in the world at the same time.”

Estela’s lips quirked into a smile. “You’ll still be able to do that. Soon enough, baby will be hugging you back.”

“It’s… got to be normal to be a little scared, right? I’ve got nothing, nothing at all to look back and remember as a reference for how the hell to raise a kid. What if I--”

“Taylor.” Estela took Taylor’s face in her hands; gentle but firm. God, Taylor… no one could ask for more than to be loved by you. “I’m scared too. But I’d be a hundred times more scared if I wasn’t doing this with you. It’s a whole actual person depending on us. A whole person we could screw up in a million different ways. But we won’t. Taylor, look at me. You won’t. Just… be scared with me. And all of us… we’ll be okay.”

Taylor pulled herself up and put both arms around Estela. Holding the two people she loved most at the same time. To be scared with Estela was almost to not be afraid at all. “You’re right. Wise Mama Estela.”

“Because of you. Don’t forget that.” And Estela kissed the tip of her beloved’s nose, growing cold with the retreat of the sun. She gave a little wink. “Mama Taylor.”

Her eyes glazing dreamily as she stared out to the sunset over the sparkling sea, Taylor felt a little kick against the arm that she had around Estela’s middle. She didn’t even need to look to know that there would be the most beautiful of smiles across her wife’s face. Pure elation. Mama Taylor? She could get used to that.

[loserslibrary]

pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak [Reddie] written by: Amy rating: Teen word count: 2,864 prompt: How about a reddie fic where they’re broken up and get back together

Eddie stepped out of the subway, his eyes trained on the schedule in his hands that he had received that morning. After a lot of change and moving around, Eddie had finally made the move from Maine to New York, intending to finish his college degree in a place far away from his overbearing mother. When he had decided to change schools, there had been a fight of course with his mother claiming that he didn’t love her anymore, and that he was leaving her all alone to die. 

For his whole life, his mother had used that excuse with him, guilt tripped him into always staying with her because he felt obligated to. She was his mother, after all, so he shouldn’t want to leave her alone...right? She had taken care of him when he was sick as a child, always reminding him to take his medicine so his allergies didn’t get worse. He believed her for years, always carrying his inhaler with him for his asthma as well as a watch attached to his wrist that beeped when he was due to take a pill. It wasn’t until she started to control who he spent his time with that Eddie started to become wary.

Sometimes, Eddie would deliberately forget to take his pills, just to see if there was any difference, and once when his teacher brought in some fresh flowers, he had walked up to them to take a whiff, just to see if his allergies kicked in. Both times, nothing happened, but Eddie didn’t want to question his mother as she was his mother, and mothers were meant to take care of their children, not lie to them about being sick. 

Then, when Eddie was fourteen, he had stopped at the pharmacy to pick up his prescription and the pharmacist’s daughter, Greta, informed him that the pills were nothing but placebos. Sugar and water. After that, Eddie started to question all of the illness’ his mother claimed that he had. Did he even have allergies? Did he even need the inhaler? 

It was a long, aggravating process, but eventually Eddie managed to get it out of his mother that he wasn’t actually sick, and that she just wanted to protect him by making him think he was weak and sickly. What followed were four years of high school filled with anger, animosity and a lot of tears. Especially when he came out as gay a few weeks after his sixteenth birthday and annouced that he was dating none other than Richie Tozier. 

God, his mother hated Richie. Not just for being Eddie’s boyfriend, no, she had always hated him, ever since they were little kids and he would run around getting dirty and splashing in all the puddles. She had turned her nose up, reaching for five year old Eddie’s hand, but it was too late as he had already rushed off to join him. Since it was cold, wet and windy, Eddie had ended up in bed with a cold for a week, but it had been the best hour of fun he had ever had, and since then, he and Richie were inseparable. 

At the thought of Richie, Eddie came to a stop, stepping to the side so he didn’t get into anyone’s way, his heart clenching in his chest as his throat closed up. He had spent the past two years trying not to think about Richie, as all it did was make him cry hysterically and cry into his pillow. The thing was, Eddie’s mother had nothing to do with Eddie’s break-up with Richie, at least...not completely. 

When senior year had come around, Richie as well as the rest of the losers began to plan for colleges, applying to all the different places that would get them the hell out of Derry. Bill was even going to London for a year to study as part of a special literature honours programme. Eddie, though, was to remain in Maine, as his mother refused to pay for him to attend any other colleges, and he didn’t qualify for any scholarships. Richie, on the other hand, had been accepted into a college in New York City that would specialise in drama and entertainment. 

They had spent the entire summer together, practically attached at the hip and even his mother couldn’t say anything about it. She was getting rid of Richie after all, so she had no right to say anything about how they spent the rest of their time together. When the last week rolled around, Eddie sat in Richie’s now bare empty room and they had cried together, making the adult decision that it would be too messy to do long distance, and they wouldn’t want to risk ruining their friendship.

That had been that, the next week Richie was gone and Eddie was the only one of the Losers Club left in Derry. The days that he had classes, Eddie treasured as it was time out of the house and away from his mother. Yet, even when she knew he was at class, she would call non stop. Once, when he was in the middle of an exam and had told her so, the police had to interrupt them as she had called the police to say he was missing. He had never been so embarrassed over something in his entire life. 

It was after that specific ordeal, that Eddie made the decision that it was time to leave, and from under her nose he had applied for a transfer to a college in New York that offered his course in medicine and would accept him the following year in their classes. He was accepted almost immediately, and what followed was a quick search for a dorm room as well as packing up without his mother catching on. He had made it up to the week he was meant to leave when she figured it out, causing the biggest argument to date, but there was nothing she could do. He had been given access to the college fund his father had kept for him as well as some extra. Without looking back, Eddie left his mother alone in his childhood home and was on the next train to New York City.

Now here Eddie was, making his way onto the campus to meet with his professors and have a short induction into the course. He had been in touch with them via email, and completed all the same summer work the other students in his class had been given, but they wanted to meet him in person just before the new year began. He had been so focused on not getting lost, that Eddie wasn’t even paying attention to where he was going, and therefore didn’t see the person in front of them until he collided right into them. 

“Shit!” Eddie gasped, dropping the bag he was carrying as the stranger he had bumped into reached out and held onto him. “I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He looked up to face the person who he had almost knocked to the ground, when his heart leapt out of his chest and slammed against the concrete. There was no mistaking the man in front of him for anyone else, yet Eddie wondered what twist of fate this was, for out of everyone that Eddie could have bumped into, it ended up being Richie Tozier. 

Richie hadn’t met Eddie’s eyes yet, and time seemed to turn into slow motion as he raised his head, words forming on his lips, “No no it’s okay-” their eyes met and Richie’s jaw dropped a little. “Eds?” His eyes widened to the size of saucers, pupils dancing around as he scanned Eddie’s face. “Oh my god, Eddie!”

Before Eddie could even blink, he was being pulled into a hug, his face trapped in Richie’s jacket. He inhaled, senses being filled with the familiar scent of his ex-boyfriend, and the tears filled his eyes within seconds. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist, holding onto him so tight that he didn’t want to let go. He was too scared that if he did, Richie would just vanish and Eddie would wake up back in Derry, still under the control of his mother. 

Yet, that didn’t happen, and Richie pulled away after a few moments, his own eyes filled with tears. He lifted a hand, which Eddie noticed the nails were painted the colours of the rainbow, and wiped them away, unable to stop smiling. Eddie felt as though his face was just the same, his mouth hurting from the smiling. It had been such a long time since he’d seen Richie in person. Of course, they had kept in touch the first few months, but then their schedules got busy and it turned to a few text conversations every few weeks. It was surreal. “I- oh my god...it’s really you…”

“It’s really me!” Richie nodded his head, his hands lingering on Eddie’s arm where it had held on to steady him. “What- what are you doing here? I thought you went to college in Maine?” he asked, biting his lip. Eddie took that chance to scan over Richie’s features. He was a little taller than the last time they’d seen each other, and his hair had grown out, which was now messily tied back into a bun at the top of his head, waves and curls sprouting out at all angles.

Eddie bit down on his own lip, trying to steady the rapid beating of his heart. “I- I transferred. I finally got fed up with my mom and her bullshit and I just left…” he shrugged a little, looking from side to side. “I got accepted to transfer into a course here, and they were happy to have me so I accepted and moved. Stressful but I hope it’ll be worth it.”

Richie’s eyes were shining at this point and he bounced on the balls of his feet, “So...you’re here? Like permanently?” he asked and Eddie nodded his head. “That- fuck...that’s amazing. Uh, shit.” Richie was right back to grinning now. “Uh, are you...are you seeing anyone?”

Eddie’s mouth went a little dry at that and he slowly shook his head, fluttering his eyelashes. “No- No I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t since- since-”

“Me neither,” Richie confirmed, moving the hand that was settled on his arm moved down to take Eddie’s hand in his, squeezing tightly. Sparks shot up Eddie’s arm and a flush took over his face. It was almost like they were never apart, falling back into their old, almost perfect relationship. Richie hadn’t been with anyone else and neither had Eddie. It was almost like they were just...  waiting for the other. “Do you have plans for tonight?” Richie asked, eyes glinting with hope. 

Slowly, with a smile, Eddie shook his head. “No, none at all. Why?” he asked, even though he knew where Richie was going with his question. “You want to change that?”

“Definitely,” Richie nodded. “I have to go to an appointment right now, but I’ll text you right after and we can meet up when you're done? Spend the rest of the night together? How does that sound?” he asked and Eddie couldn’t nod his head fast enough.

“Yes, yes that...that sounds perfect.” Eddie agreed, glancing at the large clock tower that displayed the time. “I- I need to go, I don’t want to be late…” He really didn’t, but he also didn’t want to let go of Richie. 

Richie smiled, warm and soft, before lifting Eddie’s hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “Until later then?” He breathed before letting go, taking a step back. 

Eddie nodded, “Yeah...until later.” 

* * * * *

That night, Eddie spent way too long getting ready for his date with Richie, at least he hoped it was a date. Seeing Richie again after so long had just reignited all those feelings he had buried deep down in his chest. He was grinning like a teenager as he put the final touches to his hair. 

When he was ready, he messaged Richie to let him know he was ready and within seconds, Richie was sending him an address to meet him. Eddie wasted no time rushing from his dorm and onto the bus that would take him to the restaurant where Richie asked him to meet. True to his word, Richie was standing outside, flicking on his phone and looking just as handsome as always.

“Hey…” Eddie breathed, walking up to Richie, stopping just a few metres away from him. Richie looked up, his eyes brightening as they landed on Eddie. His stomach flipped. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long?”

Richie pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s waist and pulling them closer together so their chests were touching. “Eds, I’d wait forever for you,” he whispered. He brought a hand up and pushed some of his hair behind his ear. “God, it is possible for you to be even more beautiful now than you were this morning?”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he leaned a little closer, “Are you always this much of a flirt?” He whispered back and Richie broke into a large grin.

“Only when it comes to you, Eddie baby,” Richie shot back before taking a step back. “Shall we? I got us a table last minute, the food here is amazing, a perfect place to try for your first night in New York.” He winked, leading Eddie into the restaurant. His eyes widened as they were led over to the table set up for them, handing them a menu. “Get anything you want okay? It’s on me.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, sitting opposite Richie and immediately, their ankles hooked together under the table. It was like they had never been apart, immediately falling into their old routine and Eddie just hoped that the evening would end with another date. He wanted nothing more than to rekindle his relationship with Richie. He was still very much in love with him. 

Richie nodded his head, “I mean it, Eds. Anything you want.” He winked. “Yet, may I recommend you get the carbonara though? It is the shit.”

The waiter came by and took their order, with Eddie following Richie’s advice and ordering the carbonara. Just like Richie had said, it really was the shit and Eddie found himself dragging it out so he could savour the meal more. “Holy shit, this is the best carbonara I have ever had in my life. I don’t want it to end.”

“What did I tell you, sweetheart? You deserve to have your first dinner in New York be one to remember,” he lifted his glass and clinked it against Eddie’s glass. “I don’t want this night to end yet...take a walk with me?” 

There was no way that Eddie was going to turn Richie down. He nodded his head and Richie paid the bill, taking Eddie’s hand as they left the restaurant and walked across the street to the park. They walked in silence for a while, fingers brushing until Eddie couldn’t take it anymore and laced their fingers together. “I can’t believe out of all the people I bump into today, it was the one person I really wanted to bump into.”

Just then, Richie stopped and Eddie stumbled a little, falling back into line with Richie. Eddie looked up at him with a little confusion. Once again, just like he did at the beginning of the night, Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie’s waist to pull him closer, “Eds...fuck I missed you so much. I’ve never stopped thinking about you and...and now you’re here I don’t think I can let you go.”

“Then don’t,” Eddie breathed, his whole body feeling as though it was on fire. He barely managed to suck in a breath before Richie was burying his free hand into Eddie’s hair and pulling him into a kiss that made his toes curl up in his shoes. He kissed Richie back as though he was a starved man. When they pulled away, Richie was grinning and Eddie was grinning. “W-wow.”

Richie pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “I know that this is...soon and all but my feelings for you never went away and they never will. Feel free to say no but...would you be interested in being my boyfriend again?”

“Richie...my feelings for you never went away either, and they never will. This- this was fate, us meeting again.” Eddie let out a breath. “I definitely want to be your boyfriend, there was never another answer in my mind. Yes, yes yes!”

With a grin, Richie picked Eddie up, spinning him around and sealing the deal with a kiss. “God, I missed you so much,” he breathed as he sat Eddie back onto the ground. “Want to catch a movie?”

Eddie laughed and nodded his head, “I would love to.”

[lostinmymindpalace-m]

The Light of Knowledge

A warm comfort fanfic about Dead Poets Society introducing Diana Williams. Might not always be (chronologically) accurate, but has the intention to warm your heart and take you to a wonderful place. Will (hopefully) be updated, because I love wrtiting it. Feel free to give feedback and correct linguistical mistakes <3

Chapter one, in which the thoughts are free

Wer kann sie erraten,                      Who can guess them sie fliehen vorbei,                           they flee away, wie nächtliche Schatten.                 like nocturnal shadows. Kein Mensch kann sie wissen,       No man can know them, kein Jäger erschießen.                    no hunter can shoot them. Es bleibet dabei:                             It stays like it is: Die Gedanken sind frei.                 the thoughts are free

Ich denke, was ich will,                 I think what I want und was mich beglücket,               and what makes me happy, doch alles in der Still,                    but all in silence und wie es sich schicket.               and how it acquiesces. Mein Wunsch und Begehren         My wish and desire kann niemand verwehren,              nobody can deny, es bleibet dabei:                             it stays like it is: die Gedanken sind frei.                 The thoughts are free

(from a German folk song)

I stop and take a deep breath. The time-honoured school building looks stunning against the setting of trees, whose leaves are starting to turn colourful. I still can't believe I'm really here. My heartbeat accelerates with excitement as I let my gaze wander over the dark, weathered brick bulidings and the adjoining school grounds. A river runs through the valley and flows into a lake aside the houses. Welton Academy. I actually made it. A blast opens up the cloudy sky and the golden sun rays of late summer bathe the school building in their light. I close my eyes, hold my face against the warmth and then set out for the Academy, for a new life.

In front of the entrance door, an old man with grey hair is waiting for me. He introduces himself as Dr. Hager and shakes my hand. „You must be the recipient of the Eisenhower-Scholarship. Diana Williams, right?“ I nod. „Yes, Sir.“ „Well, in addition to my function as teacher of mathematics, I am residential supervisor for grades eleven and twelve, a cordial welcome to Welton Academy on my behalf. Please follow me to the director now.“ I tightly sqeeze my suitcase as I walk behind Dr. Hager. In the entrance hall, the walls are covered with pictures of former years and special awards of students. One day, my picture will be on these walls, too, I think and feel like I could scream with joy. But of course, I controll myself. Keep it upright, a slight smile on my lips, just like my mother told me to. Dr. Hager stops and knocks on a door made of the same dark wood the walls here are covered with up to shoulder height. „Come in!“, it sounds from the director's room. I square my shoulders, adjust my glasses and step in. Behind the huge mahogany desk sits a man with short, white hair. For a moment, his eyes behind the round glasses linger on my school uniform before he signifies for me to sit down. „Miss Williams, it is a pleasure to welcome you to this school. Your parents don't seem to have arrived with you?“ „No, Sir. They were both indispensable, so I took the train here by myself.“ Director Nolan takes notice with a nod and then continues. „You certainly understand why the school has asked you not to attend the traditional welcome ceremony. Students and parents have been informed about the project, but the school administration considered it appropriate to avoid any possible disruption of the ceremony.“ In other words, the teachers think the presence of a girl would lead to inappropriate behaviour on part of the students? I internally roll my eyes. „Miss Williams, as you know, your admission to this school is a pilot project. An attempt to see if teaching female students at an institution like Welton is possible. Of course, you are familiar with the rules of this school as well as our four pillars?“ „Yes, Sir. tradition, honor, discipline and excellence, Sir. It is a great honor for me to be able to attend this school.“, I say in a steady voice. Nolan nods again, almost approvingly this time. „Here, you are expected to adhere strictly to the tried and tested standarts and to understanf the four pillars as the headstone of your life. Be aware that your success or failure at this school contributes a major part in the decision about an enlargement of the pupils.“ I can feel his stern look on me, but I don't even blink. I have been aware of the efford and the responsibility this scholarship would entail from the very beginning, when I was suggested by my principal. „As for your school uniform“, Nolan throws a glance at my legs in the suit pants, „an alternative will be found as soon as possible. You will understand that until now, this institution hasn't had any need for adequate skirts.“ That's what I was afraid of. Why can't I just wear pants? Skirts may be pretty, but most of all, they are impractical. Well, my school uniform surely doesn't have top priority here. Who knows how long it will be until I actually have skirts to wear. „It also goes without saying that you won't exploit your position as, well, unique. It is an important requirement for the continuation of your scholarship that the concentrated working atmosphere in the classroom won't be disturbed. For this experiment to be successfull, you too are expected not to let living with male students diminish your achievements.“ „I assure you this won't be an issue, Sir.“ Nolan hands me a paper on which my schedule appears to be printed. „From tomorrow on, you will attend class with your classmates and, based on your last report cards, you will take part in the following extracurricular activities: Pupil's magazine, yearbook and debate club. Dr. Hager will now lead you to your room and I will have your class representative lead you through the school during the afternoon. He will also tell you where to pick up your books. Dinner starts at preciely six o'clock. He rises and so do I. „Thank you for your time, Sir.“ After a quick handshake, I am dismissed.

My new home is a small room, the last one on the left side oft the hallway, that has my name on it's door. The walls are dirty white and it's very plain, but at least it has a window with a wide ledge. It was probably originally used as a storage room or something, but now it has everything I need. A simple metall bed, a wardrobe for my clothes and a desk with a chair and a small lamp. It reminds me of home. I slowly put down my suitcase and step up to the window, from which I have a beautiful view of the school grounds. A slight mist is rising, making the lake and the far edge of the forest seem blurry and mystical. I feel tears rising in my eyes and I can't tell wether it's the beauty of nature or the fact that I'm actually here, at the best preperation school in the United States. Six month ago, I couldn't even dream of an opportunity like this. But now, with a lot of work and a degree from Welton Academy, I should even be able to go to college! Almost floating with happiness, I start unpacking my possesions. I didn't bring much, just a few everyday clothes, my coat and a pair of shoes, which I put into the closet next to the school uniforms that have been sent to me. I have just stored my books and writing material and am wondering what to do with my bathroom stuff when I hear muffled noises outside my door. A moment later, someone knocks. That's probably the class representative, i think and quickly put away my bathroom bag. When I open the door, a boy in grey Welton uniform is leaning against the frame and looks at me with a mischievous grin. Behind him stands a group of boys around my age whose facial expressions range from enthusiastic to mild panik. It's hilarious. I slightly raise my eyebrows. „Can I help you?“ The boy that's leaning in the door frame casually extends his hand. „Charlie Dalton. Welcome to Hell-ton.“ „Diana Williams. Pleased to meet you.“ As I shake his hand, he looks deeply into my eyes and pulls my hand to his lips. I sigh internally and stifle a grimace, but I continue to smile nonchalantly. Of course, I knew what kind of attention I would get here. Remain polite and kind, I admonish myself. Mother taught you the best way to handle situations like this. Fortunately, another boy steps forward and I can withdraw my hand. The boy's school jacket is covered with pins. „Diana, I'm Neil Perry, the class representative. Mr. Nolan sent me to show you around and“, he gestures to his companions and gives me an apologetic look, „these guys absolutely wanted to welcome you, too.“ I inconspicuously wipe my Charlie-Dalton-kissed hand on my pants before i extend it to Neil Perry. „That's nice of you“, I say, even though I can't quite avoid a mocking undertone.  „I understand that it must be rather unusual to have a girl here. Let me tell you, it's a weird situation for me, too. But please, come in if you want to. We really don't have to talk with one foot in the door.“ I sit down on the window sill and watch the whole group enter my freshly occupied room. Charlie Dalton immediately makes himself at home on my bed and another one takes a seat on my desk chair, but the others keep standing more or less awkward in the middle of the room. For a moment, nobody speaks, until I tilt my head and casually ask: „Alright, and how is the rest of my eloquent guests called?“ Charlie Dalton's grin widens as he begins to introduce the other guys. „This right here“, he points to the boy that is sitting on the desk chair, „is Steven Meeks, the genius of the class.“ Steven Meeks makes a face and slightly rises his hand. „To his right, we have Gerard Pitts.“ The boy is so tall that in order to stand unter the pitch of the roof, he has to crouch uncomfortably. „Those two are Knox Overstreet and Richard Cameron...“ A smiling boy and another one with a very neat haircut nod to me. „And this“, he points to a guy that is kind of shyly standing next to Neil Perry, „is Todd Anderson. You already know Neil here. We are the best your class has to offer, the rest is dull.“ I have to smile. „Alright Charlie Dalton, Steven Meeks, Gerard Pitts, Knox Overstreet, Richard Cameron, Todd Anderson and Neil Perry“, I say without missing a beat, „it's a great pleasure to meet you.“

The guys seem smart and adorable and I feel much more comfortable with them than I expected. We talk for a while, then Neil shoos them to the common room so he can carry out his duty as a guide. He shows me where to put my stuff in the bathroom and leads me through the school buildings and the classrooms in which I'll have class tomorrow. Neil chats to me cheerfully and tells me stories about teachers, but i hardly listen. I'm enchanted. The escritoires made from dark wood, the chalkboards, the pin boards, the smell of ink and paper. With every breath, I can feel all the knowledge, all the thoughts and hard work. In the room we have english class in, I sit on one of the escritoires, pull my knees to my chest and stroke the wood, that generations of students chafed with the back of their books, with my fingertips. „There is one thing I don't get“, I say and draw a circle around an ink stain. „You are telling me all these awful things about the teachers and how exhausting the classes will be and yet all I can think about is how beautiful it is here. Don't you feel the freedom this place is radiating?“ I look up and see Neil frown. „Freedom? If Welton lacks in one thing, than it's freedom, believe me on this one. You do have to be disciplined, or else you'll get penalty points.“ I nod pensively and jump off the escritoire. „Hm, I don't think that's what I mean.“ So we go and pick up my books. On our way back to the living quarters, we meet Todd who apparently has been waiting for Neil. Both of them accompany me to my room, where I store the books. Neil turnes to Todd. „Do you get a feeling of freedom when you enter Welton?“ Todd shakes his head. „No, if anything, the opposite of freedom.“, he says quietly. „Why?“ „That's how I felt.“ I turn around to face the boys. „And I think now I know why. You may not feel this way, but for me, this place is more than I could ever dream of. When I can make it here, then...“, I gesture vaguely, „basically anything seems possible.“ Neil and Todd nod. „I'm glad you feel this way“, Neil says with a smile. „You are right, your situation is just different. You didn't expect to go to Welton. But you'll see how little controll they give us here.“ I shrug as I watch the last rays of the dying sun slowly fade away. „The thoughts are free, boys.“ Before I can go on, the bell calls us to dinner.

[letterstoleia]

I spent my whole childhood thinking that school was the end all to be all.  That if I didn't get that A I was worthless.  That if I didn't make honour roll, I was a failure.  That I didn't score those scholarships that I wouldn't get to go to a good college.  Then when I did all that, and then did go to college I realized that it didn't matter.   None of it.  The late nights, the stress,  the studying and missing out on being a kid.  I have a LOT of friends who have great educations, and are struggling right now to find jobs.  They are so far in debt that they will never recover from it (student loans, credit cards) anytime soon.  At the end of the day the only thing I want for my child is that he is happy, healthy, loved and that he knows he can thrive no matter what.  Our school looks so much different than most, and that is okay. I don't see this post as a negative at all.  It's nothing but the truth.

Honestly anyone who grew up with me is always a bit taken back that we unschool.  I was a nerd. Like head in a book all the time , stressed out about those grades nerd.  If I got a B then I was always reprimanded by my father for not getting a better grade. One of my oldest memories is of my parents going to parent teacher night, and me getting a C in Math .  I was grounded,  my dad was yelling and I am pretty sure I got hit because of it.  I was in grade school.  It didn't matter I had A plus's in the other grades. Math is still not my strong suit.  I struggle with numbers (I probably have a learning disability with it but it's too late now) and I can't make things add up no matter how hard I try.  In high school it took me 3 years to pass Grade 10 general math.  But I was always getting A's in my other classes (even gym).  I took summer school, I worked on yearbook, newspaper, and was in Drama.  Then I gave up.   I started skipping, drinking, doing drugs, partying, and the more I was pushed by my parents the more I resented them for it.  Eventually I smarted up *well not completely because i did marry the first asshole that came along* and finished school.  I went to college.  I even took a 4 year writing course at a school for children's authors.  I loved learning, still do.  But I want my son to know that it's not everything.  Many of my friends (like i said) are not working, or not working in the field they went to school for.  A lot of them work retail, or are SAHMs.  They went to school. They are in debt (like i said). Sorry this is so long for some reason I felt the need to get it off my chest.