#*lunge voice* you're like a character out of a fairy tale

[strawberryclementine]

watching a muppet movie and seeing this lil guy pull up as the owner of a desolate hotel... Klaus Poppe, I say with my full chest

[dumbasswithapen]

You're reblogging some fantastic stuff about The Mechs (coming from a tma fan) is there anything else you can tell me about it? I'm deadly curious and very interested in seeing more of Jon Sims' work

hello!!!! I am so normal about the mechanisms (lying) but am not good at describing things so if you want, like, The Intro Post To The Mechs than @x-ca1iber has it and that’s much more fine tuned but I shall try my best! This may be… a bit of an infodump, and not very concise.

base content warnings for mechs, not this post but the mechs as a band and their stories: violence, so much violence, lots of death, war, general tragedy, British people (ew)

okay. So. The basics! The Mechanisms were a 9 person folk cabaret band who told stories in their albums and songs that were based on mythology and stories (more on that later)

Outside of these stories they played individual characters, a space, steampunk pirate crew of immortals roaming the universe aboard a sentient starship named the Aurora and finding tragedies to tell through their albums. They're, as I mentioned, immortal, through a mechanism (not to be confused with The Mechanisms, the name of their crew lol. They weren’t very creative with that) A mechanism is a replacement for a part (or in some cases several parts) of one’s body made of metal and shit, that causes regeneration if you die. And this shit isn’t light, it is totally possible to regen from being, for instance… shoved into a sun for a century. so basically, crew of immortals making stories they witness into albums and playing the roles of people in those stories.

For a fan of tma, the most recognizable part of this is 4 people in the crew (though only 3 are major characters in tma) Jonny Sims, of course, plays Jon in tma and Jonny D’ville (he/him) in the mechanisms. (He is… perhaps not the most creative with naming his character) Jonny D’ville is the first mate (NOT captain. Though he would say he was) of the Aurora, and his mechanism is his heart. He was the first person in the crew, and the first to become immortal. He’s also the lead singer, and plays harmonica. Frank Voss plays Basira in tma, and in the mechs plays Ashes O’Reilly (they/them) an arsonist crime boss, ship’s quartermaster, whose mechanism is their lungs! Jessica Law plays Nikola Orsinov in tma, and in the mechs she plays The Toy Soldier (it/its) The Toy Soldier is… a bit of an outlier, in that it wasn’t ever mechanized, wasn’t ever “made” immortal. It is simply a sentient clockwork toy, with a voice box stolen from a human it had been in love with. (Somehow jess is typecast as an unsettling dollike entity twice in a thing created in part by Jonny sims) Its role in the crew is… really nobody knows. Occasionally it’s called mascot. It’s just kinda there and whenever it’s kicked out it finds its way back. It’s very charming, and simply happy to be involved! last, and kinda least in the context of being a tma fan, is Tim Ledsam, who plays the exterminator Jordan Kennedy in tma and Gunpowder Tim, (he/him) master-at-arms, in the mechanisms. His mechanism is his eyes.

others, who I’m not going to go into detail about, are Nastya Rasputina (she/her) engineer, Ivy Alexandria (she/her, actor uses he/him) archivist, Drumbot Brian (he/him) pilot, Marius Von Raum (he/him, actor uses they/them) and Raphaella la cognizi (she/her)

two, the albums! This is gonna be pretty quick because it’s just an overview, but there are 4 main story albums that tell self contained stories, 2 that are a collection of songs that tell single stories, and 1 EP thing that tells its own little ballad. Then there’s a live recorded version of their final show ever, death to the mechanisms. They’re all very tragic, and *very* queer stories.

first, once upon a time (in space) a story based on fairy tales, tells the story of a war through the stars. second, Ulysses dies at dawn, a film noir style telling of a dystopian world based on Greek myths. third, high noon over Camelot, a cowboy western ballad about Arthurian legend on a space station. fourth, the bifrost incident, a rock ballad about Norse myth, lovecraft eldritch horror, and one person being really fucking horny for a train (Dw about it) the other albums are a mix of myth and story retellings (Frankenstein, the story of Prometheus, a rhythm based video game called crypt of the necrodancer) and character backstory songs for the Mechanisms.

random ass fun facts because I’m out of base info and I think the mechs is really funny for something supposed to be tragedy

-one of the crew, Nastya, is in a loving romantic and sexual relationship with the starship

-there are creatures called octokittens that are half octopus half kitten. I love them.

-Jonny is Texan. Yeah. (Well technically New Texan, because he was born on a planet called New Texas, but whatever)

-I’m not going into this because it’s more complex lore but the person who “created” most of the mechanisms was a vampire named Doctor Carmilla and was a (very disfunctuonal) mother figure to at least most of the crew. They kicked her out

-Doctor Baron Marius Von Raum, one of the other crewmates, is neither a doctor nor a baron. His real name is Byron. He psychoanalizes people for fun.

-they’re all horrible people, the Mechanisms. They kill and burn and destroy and manipulate unrepentantly and take pride in breaking every law they can find (though we have explicit canon confirmation that Jonny flat out refuses to commit any sexual crimes) It makes them fun, though

-there are *so* many photos of the bandmates in character and a good part of fandom activity is just passing around those photos within the fandom like they’re Pokémon cards

-last, and very much not least, it’s quite important to note that Jonny Sims didn’t “create” the mechanisms, not like he did tma. It’s a collaboration between a bunch of great storytellers and musicians that started out as a uni band

here is a photo of the mechanisms as a whole group, because why not

Anyway I’m going to see so many glaring issues with this as soon as I post it but I hope it makes at least some sense! Check out x-ca1iber’s post for it if something doesn’t make sense… yeah. That’s it.

[sunflowershouto]

if they hurt your feelings - headcanon (iwaizumi, oikawa)

𝐚/𝐧: here's some headcanons! lemme know if you want a part 2 with different/more characters cause these were super fun -leo

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, no warnings other than the boys accidentally being buttfaces

my haikyuu masterlist

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈

✰ Iwa is a fairly blunt person who doesn't mince words.

✰ That's not to say that he doesn't have a filter, but if he thinks something needs to be said, then he's going to say it.

✰ You were discussing plans for what to do after highschool, and Hajime said something that implied that he thought you were being naive.

✰ "You need to be more realistic about your plans for the future. Not everything is a fairy tale like you think it is."

✰ You understood his point, but the way that he said it was undeniably hurtful, and you reacted negatively almost immediately.

✰ You've always been worried that he sees you as being immature, and this really struck a nerve. After all, Iwa has always been calm and collected when it comes to making plans, he always seems to have it together.

✰ All of those little insecurities start to bubble up, and before you know it, there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are watering.

✰ The second you start to reply, and he hears the way your voice breaks, Hajime realizes that he's screwed up.

✰ "I-I know I'm not as good at this stuff as you are, Haji, but I'm not- I'm not an idiot. I just wanted to be optimistic."

✰ Hearing you say that breaks his heart a little bit.

✰ "Hey, hey, don't cry," he mumbles, and brings up a hand to the side of your face. He feels absolutely awful—all he wants to do is help you and make sure you're prepared, and instead he's made you feel like he doesn't trust your judgement. "I didn't mean that, not the way that I said it."

✰ He's stroking your cheek and trying to stay calm, but he's sort of panicking on the inside, because he can tell that there's something deeper that he's struck on and he doesn't know how to approach it.

✰ "I know how hard you're trying, baby. I know you're taking your future seriously, and I don't think badly of you for being optimistic. I'm sorry, I just want things to go well for you."

✰ He's just as straightforward about comforting you as he is about everything else, and that really helps.

✰ When he sees that your eyes are still watering, he pulls you to his chest and holds you tight. He presses his lips to your forehead and holds you there for a moment.

✰ You're starting to feel better as he addresses some of the root of the problem, and you sink further into his hold. Iwa always gives the best hugs, and it's hard not to feel better when he's holding you so lovingly.

✰ "I'm so sorry if I've ever made you feel like I don't believe in you," he murmurs. You can tell in his voice that guilt is eating him alive.

✰ The two of you stand there like that, with Hajime holding you and whispering reassurances, and just trying to fix any damage he might have just done.

✰ In the aftermath of it happening, he'd be a little extra sweet, take you on a nice date and just try to make up for it, and give you more reminders of how amazing he thinks you are.

✰ He's extra affectionate that evening too, and holds you close as you both fall asleep, as if he's still trying to apologize in his own way.

✰ Long term though, I see him wanting to have another discussion about why you might have those insecurities, because the idea of you thinking that he sees you as anything less that brilliant kills him a little inside.

✰ He loves you so much, and going forward he's much more careful of how he says things, and you guys have a much healthier, much more communicative relationship.

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀

✰ As much as we all love him, it's no secret that Tooru can be a little bit of a dick sometimes, even to people he cares about, and even when he doesn't mean to.

✰ He's really good at reading people on the court, but sometimes misses things when it comes to other people's emotions, especially subtle things.

✰ It's not that he doesn't care, but Oikawa is a hard worker who gets really caught up in his own routines and goals, which means he doesn't always stop and think about someone else's perspective.

✰ It happens over something that he sees as small, but something much more meaningful to you.

✰ You'd stayed up late preparing food last night, knowing that Tooru had an interview with a professional team the next day. You put a lot of effort into preparing a meal for him, wanting to give him a little extra motivation and support, even if you couldn't be there with him in person.

✰ It was a lot of cooking, but more than that, it was something that you had poured a lot of love into, and you were really proud to give it to him the next morning.

✰ "Sweetheart, I made you a bento last night to take with you; it's got all your favorites in it!"

✰ Tooru is shuffling around the apartment, finding his coat, keys, wallet, making sure he has everything he needs with him. He's preoccupied, and doesn't really stop to process what you've said.

✰ "That's okay, babe. I'm gonna eat out today," he calls as he gets to the front door. "I'll be home for dinner, love~!"

✰ And just like that, you hear the door shut, and Tooru is gone.

✰ You try not to feel too defeated, but the longer you stare at the tupperware on the counter and replay Oikawa's careless response in your head, the more frustrated you become.

✰ You'd stayed up all night just to make a stupid meal for him, and he didn't even say 'thank you' or 'sorry' for turning it down. Hell, you'd barely even gotten a goodbye out of him.

✰ You headed to work and tried to carry on with your day, trying to tell yourself not to overreact or be selfish. After all, it was a big day for him, and you were worrying about a stupid lunchbox.

✰ Trying to get over what had happened, you send Tooru a text at around lunchtime.

✰ hi love, how's it going so far?

✰ He didn't open it right away, but you assumed he was just busy, and didn't think anything of it.

✰ You finished your shift, and when you checked your phone. . . Nothing.

✰ Tooru was busy, yes, but he normally always found time to text you back. In fact, it was usually him blowing up your phone while you were at work.

✰ You just sighed and headed back to the apartment and decided to wait for him.

✰ By the time he got back, his dinner was cold and you had already eaten, and were now sitting on the sofa, watching reruns on TV.

✰ "There's my girl!" he chirps like nothing's the matter, and stops dead in his tracks when you cast him a cold stare over your shoulder before looking back at the TV.

✰ "Oh..." He sets his things down on the table and rubs the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. "I did something, didn't I?"

✰ "You think so?" you mutter, though you can't help but feel like you're reacting a bit too harshly. But even when the anger subsides, the hurt is still leftover, simmering.

✰ He slowly sits down next to you, and pokes your cheek, knowing full well that you're not in the mood. "C'mon," he chides, his voice light and playful even though he's clearly worried. "Are you gonna keep pouting or are you gonna tell me what's the matter?"

✰ You resist for a moment, but melt as he continues to stare at you. Finally, you groan and turn to face him. "This morning, Tooru. I spent hours last night making you that lunch, and you didn't even care. You barely said goodbye, and you didn't tell me you'd be home late tonight, either."

✰ "Ah... Crap."

✰ He's quiet for a minute, and you're not sure what he's thinking, and then you realize that he looks like he's about to cry. He starts apologizing profusely, and pulls you into a hug so tight that you think your lungs might have deflated.

✰ "I promise I'll eat everything you cook for the next million billion years! And I'll say goodbye to you every morning for the rest of forever!"

✰ You can't help but smile now. "Tooru, I don't think we'll be alive that lon-"

✰ "Don't say that! The rest of forever! Goodbye kisses!"

✰ Oikawa is nothing if not theatrical, but the emotion is genuine, and you're reminded why you love him so much.

✰ The rest of the night he might as well be glued to you because he literally does not leave your side. You're loading the dishwasher and he's hanging off of you like a giant whiny koala and kissing all over your face.

✰ And you know what, you love it :,)

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[whats-the-story-tc]

21st of April, 2020

"The One with the Fairy Tale"

(Pssst! If I were you, I'd read this post first before starting this new one!)

I cannot believe this is my life.

A couple minutes before the 8 AM rush hour, a Google Classroom notification from V arrived. Then another. Someone likes a spam, I thought, before opening the first one.

Sigh of relief. It was only the essay I'd already sent her. On to the next one, the detailed info on what we were covering today. The play on the table is both figuratively and literally a fairy tale. V, pretty critical of the play and its character work itself, made sure to bring one particular monologue to our attention, which tackles a rather difficult topic in a pretty simple play about love and longing — human mortality. "(It's my particular favourite, too, but don't let that influence you.)" She wrote after explaining what it was. The last paragraph though, now that was something else. "For those of you interested in an A level (here you imagine me looking at certain people)" she began, and my eyes widened as I read it. Sure, there are literature buffs in both classes, but... I can't help but think it was first and foremost an indirect to me. I mean, I'm probably the biggest nerd out of all of us, and she's always looking at me anyways... I want to dream big and say she wanted me to see it most. I mean, it's a link to an incredibly long essay. The situation speaks for itself.

"Look at this silence," V said as she entered our server at around 11 AM. Once she was here, we (as in all of us) started chatting about the break and quarantine. "It has been Sunday for two months." I declared, V immediately continuing the thought: "That part of Sunday, no less, where the line between the previous week and the next one blurs." Couldn't have said it better myself.

As V spoke about the story, I just leaned back on my bed, letting myself get immersed in the explanation and the sound of her voice while trying to imagine everything. After a while, it all started sounding like the plot of Mozart's opera, The Magic Flute — especially when V said that our protagonists, a human boy and a fairy girl, both had companions of the same sex along the way. And as soon as she said those companions are actually married, I waited for her to take a tiny break in speaking and said "How surprising." According to Bookworm Friend, she laughed, but I couldn't hear it clearly because someone made a noise. Then she said "Obviously..." and basically shaded the whole plot line, though I don't remember the rest of the sentence. And guess what she brought up immediately? That's right. The Magic Flute. I was floored! "That's what I was thinking, too!" I chimed in immediately. She took the words out of my mouth! And, soon as I said that, I got a text from Bandana Friend.

BanF: "Wow the twinning"

It's official, folks. Even from a distance, V and I are sharing a braincell.

Serious shit went down in class, including pointing out some... very suggestive imagery that caught us all off-guard because the thing she mentioned isn't inherently suggestive, but okay, V, you do you. (Obviously, I'm not going into detail here, nor sharing the conversation Bandana Friend and I had here because... this is simply not the platform.)

But what I can share is a really funny bit that caused a bit of a pandemonium in the separate class chat none of our teachers are in. You see, about half an hour into class, The Boyfriend sneezes with what is probably the volume of a medium-sized family house collapsing. About five seconds of absolute comical silence follows, then we just hear V saying "Sorry. I'm sorry." before carrying on. All this caused quite the stir, featuring texts like:

BanF: "The whole house just quaked"

and

Classmate: "Jesus who was this 😂😂"

Classmate: "Tell me it wasn't [V]"

S: "No, her man"

Classmate: "Good heavens I thought it was her 😂😂"

and

S: "I laughed so hard that I thank God I was on mute"

So yeah. That's on that. Bit later, with the words mentioned here, V ended class, and there I was, on Cloud 9, dancing around my room and humming Disney songs from the sudden serotonin charge. That was probably the moment I decided to read the play V spoke about. You see, she didn't assign it because the wording is quite difficult (the text is quite old) and students usually struggle with it, but she said that we wouldn't lose anything by reading it, if we wanted to. And thus it happened that I sat down on my balcony at around 5 PM with the first chapter open on my phone, ready to read.

I knew she'd be right. I trust her opinion and my reading comprehension skill suffers at the stake of my absolute inability to concentrate for longer than 10 seconds. But guys. Some of the longer sections I had to go over at least three times before I understood what was going on! An hour or so must've passed when I read the last line of the first chapter, and the butterflies in my stomach took flight. It was time to text V about it. It was my original plan, anyway. Figure out how right she was, then tell her about it. I was already incredibly nervous, trying to stick to what I'd planned on writing. My fingers typed on autopilot and as soon as I was done, I could barely believe I was actually going through with this. But alas, you only live once, carpe that fucking diem. One big breath. Two biiiiig breaths.

Send.

S: "Well, Miss, I'm not saying you were right about the text of [the play], but I've only read Chapter 1 and I'm already doubting if I even speak [my native tongue]... 😅"

I immediately tossed the phone on my bed and ran away panicking. What will she say? How will she react to seeing it's me again? What does she think? Am I funny enough? Am I bothering her? When will she reply?

Half a minute later (!!!), I see the icon of The Platform That Shall Not Be Named on my screen. No. No. No. Nonononononono. I picked the phone up and unlocked it with a shaking hand. I was not prepared for what I was about to read.

V: "Hahaha, well, babydoll...You do. You're just not used to [the old-timey wording]."

I only had the time to sink to my knees, eyes wide, lips agape, when the next message followed.

V: "Though, once you're already through it, I'm curious about your opinion on the play's stageability. 😄 (given such a word exists)"

You bet your asses all air left my lungs. Not only did she call me babydoll again, now in a way that I could forever remind myself of it, but she basically just prompted another conversation! She wants to talk to me again! And I'll have you reminded, V's basically trusting my judgement based on the scriptbook I showed her at the dawn of time, that she'd never actually seen in action! I wonder what I did to earn all this trust...

S: "I'll see at the end and tell you :)"

V: "Alright :))"

Then, all brave from the double smiley, I had a really stupid and impulsive thought. (Don't yell.) Me being the little shit that I am, I googled stageability and took a screenshot of no results having been found. I took a screenshot, cropped it and sent it to V, my head being completely empty as I did. I acted purely from gut feeling.

S: "Tough luck this time, it seems😄"

V: "i thought so!"

(I can only hope she took it as a joke. But, the way I know her, she probably understood. Still, the me of right now, exactly two days and two minutes later, wouldn't do it.)

And this is where it ended. This is where I ended. My hands, my legs, even my lips were trembling as I tried to process the sudden load of emotion overcoming me. What did I just do. What did we do. What happened here. All this just echoed in my head, and I went ahead and texted every friend I wanted to tell in all caps.

BanF: "WOAAHHHH"

BanF: "you guys have really warmed up to each other"

Even now, as I was typing, I got the chills just thinking about this conversation. If it wasn't for the 'Miss' and my use of formal pronouns in the very first text, it would've just felt like two friends, who happen to both love literature, talking. And this really warms my heart, because there's this fantastic woman, who I genuinely think is one of the best influences on my life and... she just likes me for me. She immediately answers when she can, comes off genuinely happy to talk to me, prompts another thing I can tell her about and all but tells me that my opinion matters to her. Because this is her. I'm almost convinced that I will never hear her outright say that she likes me or she's proud of me, but, should I have any doubts, she does everything to let me know. I just misunderstand her sometimes, not knowing where to look.

When I tell you all this still doesn't feel real...

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]