#I started accepting myself instead of trying to fit into a strict box

[gorkaya-trava]

nooooo I hatewatched terf tags and now tumblr thinks that this is what I want to see on my dashboard😭😭😭😭 dude I'm literally at the queerest point in my life lmaoo

[shini--chan]

OKAY IMAGINE THIS - by some mirracle, s/o get teleported back in time to the pirate era and suddenly just drops from the sky as Antonio and Arthur are battling! Everything comes to a halt because a friggin woman fell from literally nowhere - Arthur is quicker and he captures s/o first, DEMANDING to know where she is from, how did she get here. Poor s/o tries to tell him the truth but it just isn't working. How stupid do you think Arthur is, huh?! He's not buying what you're selling love! (1/?)

Oh blazes, my dear. You’re trying to seduce me into writing a novel for you, correct. Well, not today (sadly) so I’ll be going ahead with my usual mixture of headcanons and snippets. Also, to everybody out there: Requests are still being accepted – I just can’t bring myself to close my ask box.

Also, I wanted to write Arthur’s and Antonio’s lines in an older English, but then I remembered what it was like having to read books from the 19th century for school and decided not to inflict the torture upon you.

Yandere Love Triangle: England vs Spain (Historical Pirate AU!)

As mentioned in the ask, you would be minding your own business, more or less, when you would suddenly be granted two of the wishes many harbour in their hearts: to time travel and have an adventure. Unfortunately for you, that wouldn’t happen with a forewarning and you wouldn’t have any chance to blend in. I wouldn’t say the battle would completely stop – with all the smoke and gunpowder and bangs going on only those close by would have a chance noticing.

Antonio was having a wonderful day. Yes, extremely wonderful. Life on the ship had been very good as of late, supplies running high and spirits even higher. They were reaching their climax now, with Spain showing England the business ends of sword and cutlas and cannon. It was a fitting sort of revenge being able to rob the lilly-livered bastard after he had stolen so much Spanish silver and gold.

The runt in question was baring his teeth and snarling like a cornered dog while their blades were interlocked, when Antonio heard a loud crash from behind England. It was probably just part of the ruckus of a sea battle, yet something – his fantastic intuition most likely – advised him to take a look. Of course, making the other combatant to move just how he wanted proved to be tricky, because Arthur had always been an uncooperative like blight and liked to fight dirty.

Yet he wasn’t a famed duellist for nothing. The sight that caught his attention when he got the opportunity to see it nearly caused him to lose an arm due to inattention. Men of both sides had briefly abandoned the battle to crowd around a failing figure that was desperately trying to free itself from a tangle of nets and torn sails. The onlookers whispered amongst themselves. The chorus of voices only grew louder when a very confused woman.

He found himself remarking: “It seems like you’ve finally started to develop a good taste in bed mates. Say, when did that happen, fishy. I always thought that you’d have luck to get a starved old tramp to warm your bed.”

“Shut up, Anthony!”, came the immediate reply, proving that the island nation wasn’t aware about what he was playing at. “Let’s not get on about you. Or should I tell your precious monarch about what you do in the stables when all the servants are gone?”

Pathetic little weasel. Enraged, Antonio brought the hilt of his sword down on that pale, cruel face and busted a pair of thin lips. “You should guard yourself from spreading lies, English pigdog. Or else the Almighty himself will smite you.”

Naturally, being the cunning demon he was, England used the opening Spain had provided him to barrel into him and send him flying overboard and into the sea.

That action would be quick to turn the tides, especially with so many men coming to aid their captain and help him out of water. This would result in Arthur then discovering you on his ship, probably when his first mate would rush to him and explain that a very strange women in a strange get-up had just suddenly appeared on the ship.

England would go and investigate and discover you surrounded by his crew, each of them having different responses to your presence and hence causing quite a commotion. He too would find you utterly alien – in your attire, in your mannerisms, even in your speech. But Arthur would be ever the pragmatic and reason that there would have to be another explanation to your appearance, one that doesn’t include miracles. But because he wouldn’t have either the time or the head space to deal with you at the moment, he’d have to thrown in the brig with strict orders to leave you alone. That would also be a way for him to torture you and force you to wallow in your worries and terrors.

The brackish water of the brig had long since made your feet wet, cotton soaks completely soaked through and chilling you. The stench it all emitted, and Arthur’s relentless questioning only further enhanced your discomfort.

He was prowling in front of your cage-like cell, like a tiger in the zoo. Only that he didn’t want to break out, rather that he was being continuously tempted to drag you out of your cell and onto the deck to be flogged for your insolence.

“At every turn you say to me that you’re from the future and that you don’t know how you came here”, he rehearsed the main points of your conversation with him. There had been a snarl on his face the whole time throughout the interrogation, his anger only making his voice curl tightly around the vowels and roll the r’s harder until you had to strain to understand him.

Mutely you nodded – you yourself had come to the conclusion that he understood you better when you kept your words simply, underlay them with gestures and expressions and spoke slowly.

In return, England shook his head and spat: “I do not believe you. Going backwards in time is impossible, it only goes forward.”

In any other situation you would have been inclined to agree with him. But you were living proof that there were glaring exceptions to that rule. Having unexpectedly landed in a long-gone era, you had first found yourself desperately grappling with your new reality. You had pinched yourself and read the letters on crates and barrel and closed your eyes and read them again to see if anything had changed – everything to assure yourself that you were dreaming.

You weren’t, nor had you taken any psychedelics, so this was painfully, gruesomely real. A fact that Arthur wasn’t excepting even with evidence right past the tip of his nose.

“Then how do you explain the ripped sails then? How do you explain my strange clothes?”, you questioned him. Then, after a brief pause, you asked: “How do you explain that I know who and what you are?”

You knowing that he was a personification of a budding Empire was a sore spot for him and made him even more suspicious of you. Something that was now backfiring on you.

He waved your words off with evident irritation and countered: “There are more reasonable explanation for all of that. That you’re a spy from a foreign country for example.”

Arthur would never cease with side-eying you and constantly be on the look-out for more logical explanations for your otherness. He would find them as well. Yet there would always be a little voice in the forefront of his mind nagging him that you are telling the truth and that he was wasting the opportunity of the millennia by blowing your words in the wind.

Those doubts would be the main reason he would keep you alive, along with his quest to extract the “truth” from you. However, there would be times when he would be tempted to fetch those thumbscrews from his quarters to see if you’d crack under pressure. Yet he would still restrain himself.

That wouldn’t mean your stay on his ship would be pleasant. You’d constantly be wet and cold, with rats crawling around the brig and your meals being a near inedible gruel that would be set aside for you.

Therefore, it would be an absolute relief when Spain would swoop in to rescue you. It would be an even greater wonder when he would actually listen to you and take into consideration what you would say.

“Tell me if I’ve got this right: In the future, you don’t send letters anymore that take months to reach another country. Instead, you send messages from small machines which the other person can read only after a few seconds, no matter how far away they are”, Antonio summed up what you had just cautiously explained to him.

You had been so shy when he had taken you aboard his vessel, so afraid he would just maltreat you like Arthur had. It had taken its time for him to convey that he was different from that godless brute, that he was civilized and patient. He wouldn’t disregard miracles and let them slip through his fingers. It had taken its own sweet time to coax you into telling the truth, but now you were sitting across him in his quarters, nodding enthusiastically.

“More or less, yes. There is a lot more to that, but that is the start of it”, you affirmed his words. You were relieved that you finally had somebody to talk to in this time were you previously had nobody. The food being served helped you weigh yourself into safety – fresh fruit and other perishable treats, an absolute luxury onboard a ship with a sizable crew. Indeed, you were becoming so comfortable with your host, your lifeline at this point, that you were betraying things about your future that you otherwise wouldn’t have.

And wasn’t yet about detail concretely concerning him, but you would both get there eventually. Spain was sure of that.

Meanwhile you didn’t notice the hungry gleam in his eyes when he purred: “Fascinating, my dear. What else can these things do?”

Being a Catholic, Antonio would be far more inclined to believe you on the time-traveling thing. He would also add two and two together on your strange clothes and their material, not to mention your different attitudes and behaviours and realise that you would be telling the truth. He would treat you kindly as a way of getting you to talk to him, eventually becoming the only person you could trust.

He would guard you jealously and ensure that you would only speak to him – having knowledge of the future would be a right he would reserve for himself alone. It would also cause him to become obsessed with you, keeping you in his quarters or leading you onto the deck at night for short walk. Of course, he would paint the whole isolating thing as he keeping you safe, saying that Arthur was after you.

The argument with Arthur would have far more validity then Antonio would even imagine. The wisdom that you don’t know what you really have until you lose it would be especially true in his case. It would finally dawn upon him that you were telling the truth the whole time and that would lead Arthur to beat himself up over it. A pursuit to recapture you would ensue.

Not to mention that it would make his blood boil to think that Spain would be courting you, persuading you to tell him everything he could ever want to know about the future. Besides  being a threat to his future existence and ongoing success, England would like to have all that knowledge himself and for himself only. Knowledge is power, after all.

Arthur would also miss you for your wit and endurance, fantasizing and dreaming of you to the point of obsession and never quitting his chase for you.

[chaletnz]

Green Card Series: US Embassy Interview

[The first of some posts I wrote about the experience of winning and obtaining a US “green card” in the 2021 DV Lottery.]

As I sat on the metro headed towards my capsule hotel for the evening, I realized that I had forgotten to buy a Letterpack envelope from a post office. In the midst of rushing to Tokyo, going to the outskirts of Shinjuku to pick up my medical report, and coordinating dinner with an ex-colleague I hadn’t seen in 5 years that one little detail had slipped my mind. Unlike Kutchan, where I could’ve ducked into a post office until 7pm on a Thursday night, everything here was closed by 5pm. The panic began to set in with my friend also unable to find an open shop to get one from, but then I found online that the Central Tokyo Post Office would open at 7am. I would have an hour before my interview to take the train down and buy one and make it back in time to gather my documents and walk to the embassy. Of course, it was raining heavily, so heavily that the day after I left there would be reports of rain-induced landslides in Shizuoka that destroyed 80 homes. In fact, the internet was wrong once again and the post office was not open until 9am but inside there was a small kiosk and he sold me a Letterpack without any problem! I clutched it close to me to keep it dry while I walked back to the station and back to my capsule to gather up my documents and make the same walk clutching the plastic folders close to me to the US embassy in Akasaka.

When I arrived one of the guards asked me the time of my appointment and placed me in the queue as he saw fit. I showed my passport and my name was checked on a list of interviewees for the day. I was whisked on to put my umbrella in the rack, and my phone in a small blue basket. As we waited to get inside the security check room I chatted with the friendly guard outside which made me feel very relaxed. My phone screen was wiped with a swab and then sent through a scanner with my folders and small bag. At the other end I took one of their ratty loan umbrellas to cross the courtyard to the actual embassy building. My passport was checked again at the entrance and I was given a list of instructions and told to take a ticket from the machine inside. I arranged my documents in order as per the instructions and borrowed a pen to write my name of the back of my photographs. I approached the counter to submit documents but I think I should’ve just waited because my number was summoned to a counter where a lady asked me for all of my documents in the folder. She asked me if I had visited any other countries in the last two weeks (COVID check), whether I was married, had kids, or had lived in any other countries where I had a criminal record. I answered no to everything and she gave me a slip to pay the visa application fee and told me to return to her with the receipt. It was $330 and I tried to pay with card but as my Japanese card does not have my name on it this was not accepted. Instead I paid cash in Japanese yen (36,300 JPY) which luckily I had withdrawn as a backup while also at the post office – actually it’s not a bad rate! I passed the receipts to the same lady and then she asked me for financial support documents or an affidavit of support. I presented bank statements from 3 of my accounts which she struggled to understand and confirm, so she wrote a note for the attention of the consular officer. Then she told me to sit and wait to be called for interview. Hilarious, because there were only about 5 chairs for 30 people standing waiting. Slowly the crowds filed out and I was able to get a seat after about an hour of standing waiting watching Japanese people get grilled in English and not understand what was happening. “How can you study in the US when you don’t speak English?” I distinctly heard one poor guy get asked.

At last my number flashed and I was summoned to counter 8. I had been telling the universe I wanted to be interviewed by the lady as the bald guy seemed very strict and harsh, and she had approved all the cases before me. She seemed like a cheerful woman in her late 30s with thin blonde hair tied up into a bun, she wore a black facemask and a green and white flowing top with a lanyard around her neck sporting a yellow button with something written on it that I couldn’t read. “Good morning” I greeted as I placed my documents on the ledge. “Morning, how are you?” She had time for pleasantries and she seemed nice.

“Firstly, I’m going to return your original documents and payment receipt. Now please raise your right hand.” I was a bit caught off guard as I had not seen any other people in the hour I was watching ever have to raise their right hand! She recited a pledge and asked me to swear to tell the truth which I did. Next my fingerprints were taken on a little scanner box on the table. Then she got stuck in with the interview.

“Why do you want to move to the US?”

“How long have you lived in Japan?”

“Have you lived in any other countries for more than a year?”

“What work do you do now?”

“Where would you go in the US, what’s your plan?”

“Tell me about your education history after leaving school.”

“A Bachelors is your highest qualification?”

“How much money do you have in savings”

“Do you think that’s enough, to start a new life?”

“Do you have anyone that can support you financially if you need it?”

The one that got me was the “do you think that’s enough [money] to start a new life?”. I hadn’t really intended to start a new life, at least for the first year or so I guess I’m planning to treat the green card like a working holiday. Work, travel, meet people. I’m not sure that I will be starting a new life right away. It also implied to me that she thought I would be living my life indefinitely in the US – is that what most winners do? Suddenly the permanence of the situation was dawning on me. I explained that it would be enough for a few months to find my feet, as an experienced traveller and backpacker primarily I was used to staying in hostels and no frills accommodation. My experience in the hospitality industry was also brought up to convince her that I would be able to support myself by working those crappy jobs no one else wants to do if I had to! By the end of the interview she seemed satisfied and told me the visa was approved and I would receive my passport back in about a week. She invited me to ask questions but I didn’t have any, instead I asked if I could give her an omiyage (a small gift) to thank her but she said she could not accept which was expected actually. That was it, I made my way out of the embassy and gave the omiyage to the friendly guard who I had chatted with earlier and he took it happily.

A brisk walk back through the torrential rain to the train station and I found myself at Harajuku Station ready to enjoy a celebratory lunch at Sarutahiko Coffee above the station entrance. I sat in a cosy corner with a pulled pork sandwich and a latte to spend an hour texting my good news to everyone and gazing longingly at the cats of the cat café across the street lounging in the window. Sarutahiko café was recommended by Paolo in Tokyo who is a big YouTuber for English speakers interested in Japan and I explained that to the cashier who seemed thrilled although, Japanese people can seem thrilled about anything even though they only understand about 10% of what you’re saying... She recommended that I try their specialty coffee beans which have a aroma and flavour like whiskey so I jumped at that! It was a little bit strange (and expensive) but a unique coffee and whiskey combination to celebrate my visa.

[tumblunni]

Ok so.. I feel really ungrateful as fuck saying this.. but it kinda bugs me how much perrin being nonbinary just.. isn’t really shown at all.

At least, in what i’ve seen so far, yknow? I watched the first ep of someone else’s let’s play to see if i was gonna like this game, and i like this game SO MUCH that I stopped right there and am downloading it at the speed of light yo!!! My hype is maximum and I really don’t want this to be seen as a hate message or anything, it's just a mild opinion piece about something that bummed me out a little, as a nonbinary person.

Ok so.. again, this makes me sound like an ASSHOLE but I have to say it.. Perrin looks like a boy. 100% of all LPers I have seen have assumed they were a boy. I, a nonbinary person, assumed they were a boy. (And felt like absolute shit afterwards, man I still have to work on my internalized gender stereotypes!)

Now in real life I absolutely wouldn’t go around being some douchebag who tells other NB folk they aren’t dressing ‘right’, or whatever. In real life people can feel very different ways about being outside of conventional gender norms. Some people feel like “both at once” or “neither” or “something else entirely that doesn’t touch either side of our society’s current binary stereotypes”. And regardless of whether you’re agender/bigender/genderfluid or any other type of genderqueer person, your fashion sense doesn’t have to fit any strict rule to “prove” it to people. Some people try and dress in androgenous stuff, some people try to mix parts of both gendered fashion worlds, some people like to wear very neutral baggy stuff as a different way of being androgenous, some people like to wear wild and fun stuff that never had any gender stereotype in the first place/because it helps them feel confident in themself if they have a big brave kind of fashion, yknow? (that’s why I dyed my hair at least, and why I think a lot of lGBT people do) And of course, some people just prefer ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ clothes regardless of not being that gender, and if we can accept that cis women can enjoy ‘tomboy’ fashion then we should accept that trans people don’t have to fit into even more rigid fashion rules in order to ‘earn’ their gender.

BUT this isn’t real life, it’s a videogame

We have a lot more context here, with the context that this is a character designed within a fandom whose previous attempts at NB representation have kinda started setting up a trend. In that context, this is a bit worrying that it’s happened again, and maybe future fangame creators are feeling like they have to do it, or something?

Like the NB protagonist Pluto in Pokemon Uranium.

They’re still someone I deeply love, but their design looks incredibly masculine aside from a side ponytail. If anything their design communicates more that they’re a younger option compared to the other two, or something?

And the two NB protagonist options Ari and Decibel in Pokemon Reborn

Their designs look like more traditionally masculine and feminine-leaning ways of being nonbinary, ykno? And that wouldn’t be bad on it’s own, but let me try and explain what I mean...

A similar issue occurs in the unrelated dating sim Hustle Cat:

Which is generally incredibly progressive and actually the first dating sim I’ve ever seen that lets you play a nonbinary protag! But you still get only two character models to choose from.

Like it’s great that they had two options to aknowledge how not all trans people are the same, but it starts to look a bit.. odd, when those two options are ‘feminine and masculine’ and no form of androgenous is ever an option. or even like.. someone with a ‘masculine’ body build but a ‘feminine’ fashion sense. That would be kind of a stereotypical way to depict a trans character but it wouldn’t just be making a random design that could fit amoungst the already existing gendered protags and then just saying they’re trans. And a lot of people found it weird how these ones seem to be drawn as like.. both on the far masculine end, just a cis man and a trans man.

Like.. even as a nonbinary person myself, I wouldn’t have known these characters were nonbinary if you hadn’t told me. And that leaves me feeling horrible about myself that I judged them on first sight, but I mean this is within a genre of entertainment that’s literally never had any Me in it and i’ve got used to being all ‘no you’re just reading too much into it’ whenever i headcanon anyone as genderqueer...

And just.. I feel like if you’re gonna just draw another two masculine and feminine looking characters, or just a second masculine one (or a weird two masculine ones that’re labelled male and female with no option for in-between...) then couldn’t you have saved time by just letting us choose our pronouns for the two you already had? like I already play a lot of games headcanoning the protag as just a masc-fashion version of my enby self, I feel like kinda the point of adding a third design would be to make it something the others aren’t already delivering. Look at it this way, you already HAVE two nonbinary characters who look masculine and feminine, just like the player could also play them as a trans boy and trans girl. Pronoun selector box is the greatest invention of our time! So what I’m really saying is not “don’t have super masc NB protags” but just “can we have another option too?”

Oh, but then that’s also been done not-so-well by certain games too.. Awesome amazing multiplayer party game dating sim Monster Prom let’s you choose your pronouns!

...except these are your only character options! All of these are very clearly intended to be read as masc or femme, you’re probably gonna feel dysphoric as heck if you play them as trans, and none of them work super well as nonbinary either. I think pretty much every NB player has always gone for Oz (yellow one), cos he’s the one that’s most capable of fitting that headcanon just by virtue of being perpetually shadowed. Tho still his default is “he” pronouns, his fashion sense is masc and his voice is masc. Still I’m really fuckin proud of the fandom for collectively latching onto NB Oz and using “they” all the time in fanworks, and then the developers being okay with it, like holy shit man you healed my goddamn heart... <3

Still, it makes me feel a lil like this would have been easy to fix? like I’m not saying redraw everything to have them all change bodies/fashion style depending on your pronoun choice, but like.. maybe just not draw them with such super disparate body styles in the first place? like in this style every girl is hourglass and has weird legs out arms out pose, and every dude is a chunkfest with twice as big hands and feet. Like you could have maybe just made two of the characters be a very curvy girl and a very buff boy, and then the other two be more neutral in appearance but still retaining the same designs. Like I think if you just gave the blue girl a baggier shirt that doesn’t highlight her boobs and hips so much, she could easily be my favourite ‘most NB-able’ design! maybe also tone down the eyelash and lipstick effects?

I think probably a similar thing could have been done with the Reborn protagonists? like there’s nothing inherantly feminine about wearing a tanktop and having a fancy undercut hairstyle and such, its just the way they drew Ari that makes them look feminine. I guess maybe that’s a necessary evil of fangames, since they usually use edits of already existing characters from the games? Then again the games have plenty of androgenous characters already, even if nobody is canonically confirmed as LGBT. *shrug*

Anyway

I absolutely am not trying to nitpick and attack the game for not being perfect in this one aspect. i’m still super excited to even see someone like me in a videogame at all, and I’m definately not one of those people who’s like ‘I’d rather have nothing than have something flawed’. I already admire you greatly for what you’ve done for the inclusivity of this fandom, and I hope that my discussion of this stuff doesn’t discourage you from continuing.

And I guess my point is, in summary

What I mean is not “there are no nonbinary people who prefer to dress masculine instead of androgenous”, but instead that when you’re designing a nonbinary person as the only option a nonbinary player gets or the only nonbinary person in the game, with no playable option, it would probably be a little better to draw them androgenous.

Like, you’ve put that NB character into the role of representing all nonbinary people ever, to the hypothetical audience of people who’ve never heard of the concept before and aren’t super educated about the intricacies of gender presentation. And then also rather than using traditionally gendered outfits to aknowledge that NB people have many ways to present themselves... you’ve given us less ways to present ourselves.

Also it’s a little bit odd that you have an NB rival but said “we’re not ever considering an NB player option in the future”. Sorry but I cannot understand the logic? Like.. you know NB people play your game if you wanted to put NB representation in it, but you didn’t put it as playable because... reasons?? I hope maybe that interview was just taken out of context and you meant something more like “it’s not planned for now because it’s a lot of work and the game is still in its demo stage”, which is absolutely an understandable reason and how Uranium and Reborn did it. But Uranium and Reborn were kinda odd for being a world where literally nobody else aside from you could ever be NB, so I am really grateful that your game did add an NB character. And one in a big role!! This is what i mean about how grateful I am and how I feel awful that my bad internet typing skills are making this post come off as more aggressive than intended.. *sigh*

OH and also maybe a tip for Periin? just.. like.. mention their pronouns. It’s really frustrating to watch everyone doing let’s plays of this thing and constantly assuming Perrin is male because their design is very masculine. Even me! Even me was assume! :( So like... maybe just have Perrin actually tell the audience that they are nonbinary at some point, during this introduction? or have the protagonist’s inner monologue mention it, or another character mention it on the way towards meeting Perrin? like I dunno, maybe a Perrin fan npc?cos it would seem a bit more natural to talk about gender if it’s someone saying “wow I admire Perrin’s androgenous fashion sense” rather than like.. a stranger saying “i can’t tell if you’re a boy or a girl from your face”.

I can understand how it can be tricky to figure out how to introduce a LGBT character’s LGBT-ness without having them go around saying it to every new person they meet, it’s something I’ve had to fix in the editing process even as a trans person writing trans characters. But just having their gender only be mentioned on missable promotional material outside the game means that a lot of players won’t ever hear about it, and it like.. has zero impact of actual inclusivity on the game. It’s why people were angry about DUmbledore only getting revealed as gay after the series already ended. Him being gay missed all of its chances to make gay readers of the series feel welcome, or have any part of his character be informed by his sexuality. like the plot between him and grindlewold could have been way more effective if it was him losing a boyfriend to the dark arts, just sayin...

anyway whatever, bunni is bad at writing coherant posts in summary thanks for perrin and sorry for whining about perrin, aaaaa

[vampirevodka-blog]

Automat (1927), Edward Hopper.

     The bells strewn over the door chime, announcing my arrival to the boy manning the counter. He’s not Elia—who would normally be here on a Tuesday afternoon, but he seems kind enough. I smile, politely, and he asks if there’s any way he could be of assistance.

“Yes, please, there’s a book I’ve been reading here, it’s called We All Looked Up? Elia leaves it behind the counter for me for whenever I can seal myself away for a little.” He ducks down under the countertop and I take the chance to tap out a few buttons on my phone screen—Do not Disturb. I rarely get the opportunity to visit this place anymore: it’s always something or other with work, or my parents, or university that grabs me by the arm and yanks me back every time I even think of escaping. Especially with Anthony’s kid on the way, and what with how busy my schedule has been up until now due to exam season…

“Ah, here it is. By ‘Tommy Wallach,’” he reads off the cover, his tongue cluck-ing on the ‘ch’ at the end rather than the smooth sh I’m familiar with my mother using, as well as using myself. He holds the book out to me, half-grinning, dimples etched into his cheeks. “Is it any good?”

“It’s…” I pause, considering, because how do you explain to an individual you’ve only just met that you’re reading a story that explores how human behavior may make people respond to an end of the world catastrophe? “It’s a bit sad, but it’s interesting.”

“Hm.” He glances down at a phone—presumably his own—that’s chimed from where it rests on the counter. His eyes flick back up to me, the hazel poorly concealing his sudden loss of interest, and he asks if I would like to order anything.

Tea. I ask for a cup of chamomile with honey, thank him, and find my way to the table I always sit at whenever I come here. The shop itself—Papercup, a place the size of a walk-in closet with books, records, newspapers, magazines lining the walls up to the ceilings—is situated right next to a little café that a friend and I used to frequent. We aren’t friends anymore, and I loved the aura Home Sweet Home had encompassed itself in: the couches and décor making even the most out-of-place individual feel genuinely at home. It hurt too much to return by myself, though—we had had memories in the little atrium with the fairy lights, the bathroom with the submarine-esque wallpaper and rounded mirrors. Once I thought I’d try and go back myself—they have the best sweet potatoes fries I have ever tasted—and found myself in a hurry to leave before any tears actually fell. I’d aimlessly stumbled around the streets of Mar Mikhael in just the right direction, because I found myself standing in front of a small little nook with a cherry-wood bench outside and glass windows for the exterior wall. Granted, it had been busier that day: jam-packed because of the rain, there had barely been enough room for me to stand, let alone do any reading. I didn’t mind, though; I had a fresh-baked scone that melted in my mouth and was surrounded by quiet conversations, stories shared over warm cups of coffee and fat slices of pound cake, and I fell absolutely in love. This place always felt magical, like one of the few gems left that the outside world hadn’t managed to get their slimy, greedy hands on yet, and the atmosphere was so heart achingly raw that I found myself fitting right in amongst the dusty records seamlessly. I settle back into my seat, relishing the faint scent of worn books and aged paper mingled with the bitter aroma of coffee, and felt content.

           There was a strict policy against smoking indoors, I soon discovered after I’d begun to frequent the coffee shop. Of the four tables that fit in the café, three were occupied: an old woman with a cat, a couple of girls at the seating right beside the window. Papercup had smelled like gingerbread—this had been right before Christmas, when everyone was out anxiously buying gifts and trampling over each other in department stores—and I’d opted for peppermint tea to fit the atmosphere. Elia—who had taken a liking to me ever since I’d asked if they had any books by Viriginia Woolf at hand—was seated across from me, a paintbrush shoved through her hair, precariously balancing her massive curls into a bun atop her head. There’d been the snick of a lighter and a spark of light off to the left; Elia was up like a flash and politely informing the elderly woman of how much trouble she’d get into if she allowed her to carry on inside, but that the woman would be more than welcome to finish her cigarette outside. The woman apologized and Elia helped her relocate outside, her fair falling out of place slightly after the effort of opening the fold-up table they keep in the back. She’d come back to the table, eyeballing the box of Marlboros that had magically appeared on the table while she’d been away (read: that I’d rapidly searched my bag to fish out, just because she was funny to annoy like that), and she locked me inside after closing hours while she’d chain-smoked the few left, making face through the window.

Because of this, I knew better than to even make such possessions visible—the staff was far too much like a family, and family members force you to share everything with them, even if you don’t want to. I’d already smoked before I turned onto this street. I start when my tea is placed before me, and the boy laughs, apologizing and returning to where he’d been perched behind the counter. It’s only the two of us in the place, but it’s not awkward at all: there’s a soft song on the speaker overhead that I can faintly recognize as one of the new ones by Harry Styles, and there’s the soft whirring and dripping coming from the coffee machines. It’s serene, and I set the book on the table, away from me a bit, and pull out my watercolors and sketch pad.

There are already thousands of sketches of this exact café, from this exact location, scattered throughout the pages. Some in colored pencil, one in acrylics—one of them, though. One of them is of a different side of Papercup, one late at night after closing hours where the overhead lights have been shut off and the coffee pots long since emptied and the entirety of the place blanketed in silence, the streetlights in the window making the rickety wooden ladder perched up against the bookshelf-wall look copper.

Sometimes I wish that I did work here, instead. That I accepted the job when Elia’s boss—Raul—had offered. Sure, the pay is nowhere near what I make at Roadster’s, and tips are basically a foreign concept, but at least the shifts aren’t anxiety-inducing and my co-workers would offer me a lousy greeting at the start of a shift. I bring my cup to my lips, breathing over it gently to cool the tea before taking a sip. I set down the mug and pick up my pencil, hand sliding along the paper, eyes on the point in the room where the glass and the bookshelf walls meet.

The bells chime and I’m startled out of my train of thought, eyes on the newcomer. Messy hair, a beanie. Oversized jean jacket and a crazed expression with a partly-opened mouth.

The customer blends seamlessly into the sketch and I request a cup of water from not-Elia. The song changes to the 1975 and I decide that today Papercup’s wallpaper will be lavender (in reality, the walls are a beautiful crème, but while that color’s nice in real life it’s such a bore to paint). The flowers in the vase at the front of the shop are sunflowers—vibrantly yellow and purposely bleeding outside the lines, bringing light to the entire establishment.  There are koi fish swimming in the empty spaces; bleeding vermillion and blue-black shadows cast on the walls. I give the books titles—Harry Potter, All the Bright Places, Ever Since New York. I’ve added a record player shoved up against one corner because it’s something I’ve felt this place was lacking since the beginning. I nurse my tea as a I wait for the colors to dry, before adding the final touches in white acrylic to give the painting—the room, the feeling—more depth.

It’s not the best I’ve done—the customer’s depiction is clearly rushed and nothing I would ever boast about—but the blurriness at the edges work. It feels right: fuzzy on the outermost parts, slightly removed from reality; the world within one of its own. One that is calming and not riddled with shouting family members and lousy customers and stressful coursework. One where fish fill the air with symbolism and intent and don’t poop all over pedestrians like birds tend to do.

My tea cup is taken, and I know that he’s refilling it again. I put away the art supplies, carefully making sure the paint is dry, and hum along to the soft lull filling the place.

I smile, happy with where I am. I open my book and begin to read where I’d left off, the top right corner of the page forming a small triangle to mark the spot. There were only a few cars out on the freeway, busted up…

[purplesurveys]

1100

[created by: vyvyan86]  

If someone's laughing, do you instantly think they're laughing at you? I mean, not automatically? People can be laughing for many reasons. But if they’re laughing near me and if I even catch them looking at me from time to time, then it can definitely make me feel paranoid.

What is the strangest thing you've been asked? I’ve said this before, but a masseuse who came to the house a couple of years ago once looked at me intently and asked if I’ve gotten pregnant before. When I asked my mom about her, she explained that that particular masseuse has a third eye. Of course I didn’t buy it, but it was a fascinating scenario nonetheless and I still liked the fact that out of everyone in the family, she had only ~sensed something with me.

What’s the weirdest thing about life that people just accept as normal? Homelessness.

What was your favorite game as a child? I liked playing Diner Dash, Insaniquarium, and Cake Mania on my dad’s laptop. Our parents didn’t keep a strict eye on us as well and we were allowed access to Grand Theft Auto games at a young age, which ended up being one of my all-time favorite video game series.

What’s the stupidest thing you've ever heard? There’s a lot of crazy fake news that have come out over the last few years; I can’t really tell which one is stupidest, but they all are to some extent.

What's the most random thing you've done out of boredom? Make spreadsheets about stuff I will never have to refer to. It’s a great way to be distracted/occupied, so I don’t shy away from starting one whenever I feel the need to.

What show did your parents not let you watch as a kid? Mr. Bean. My mom didn’t like the character’s antics and she especially hated how he technically doesn’t talk, since she felt like it would have an effect on how we learned language (we mainly learned English from the TV) and the way we speak.

What is your personal catchphrase? I say, “Awesome!” when I’m pleased with something, which is a habit I picked up from Gabie. I also tend to say “For real?” whenever I’m surprised.

What is the most pleasurable feeling that doesn't involve anything sexual? I like being given lazy scratches on my wrist or leg. It’s also nice when someone plays with my hair, but it depends on who’s doing it; sometimes I’ll find it too invasive.

What was your 'Oops, wrong person' moment? This doesn’t happen a lot to me, fortunately. For the most part, it’s only been instances from childhood when I mistakenly held on to a stranger’s hand instead of either of my parents’.

What do you find attractive that isn't considered 'normal' attraction? I’m not particularly attracted to muscles or fit bodies in general; a little bit of flab or what the internet calls ~dad bod~ has always been more than alright with me.

What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done drunk? Nearly fall asleep in a swimming pool, or go on a loud rant about someone while that someone was still within earshot.

What's your proudest moment in the bathroom? I have no idea what this means, and I don’t want to ask.

What’s something you own that gets you lots of compliments? Some clothes/shoes I have. Also, my car back when I placed reindeer antlers and a red nose on it a few Christmases ago haha.

If money was no object, where would you want to live? If that was the case, I’d be in New York City right now.

Who is your favorite mythological character? I never took a liking to mythology and the creatures associated with it.

What's something that's happened which couldn't happen at a worse time? My breakup. We were also recently informed that my mom has been retrenched sooooooo life isn’t particularly dandy at the moment. I’ve stopped complaining about my heavy daily workload and have instead felt grateful for it, because at least it keeps me occupied enough and not think about the stuff happening at home.

What is the best pickup line you've ever heard? I don’t like pickup lines.

What did aging ruin for you? My back and my eyesight.

What is the most hilarious thing you’ve ever heard? Ugh, questions like these are impossible to answer. Off the top of my head, I’ll go with this video.

What is the darkest thing you have seen on the internet? Crime scene photos, beheading videos, and corpses. There have also been other stuff but they’d be too triggering if I tried to describe what they are.

What's something you really enjoy, but can't have? I can’t have milkshakes unless I’m fine with the stomachaches I will inevitably get after.

What Wikipedia article have you recently read? So I watched Royal Rumble yesterday (I haven’t kept up with wrestling in years, but I always come back for the big pay-per-views) and there’s this female wrestlerI think I’ll soon develop a full-blown crush on. I wanted to look her up and I learned that she’s Rhea Ripley, so I briefly read up on her life and career.

What's a book you were made to read in school that you really liked? Without Seeing the Dawn will always be my favorite. Taking it up in English class was never a chore for me. Number the Stars was a great read too, as was Dekada ‘70.

What objective did you fail to complete this week? I haven’t worked out at all this week, which I should’ve been able to do twice already according to the workout plan I’m currently subscribed to. But it’s fine, I’ll just try to catch up.

What could have gotten worse for you but it didn't? Work. I kept making a million mistakes during my first two months and thought I’d never get the hang of it, and I was just waiting to get fired immediately lol. But everything’s going smoothly now - I’m not as lost as I used to be, and I’ve even taken to tutoring some of the newer hires.

What subject should be taught at schools, but isn't? I’d have appreciated it if we had been taught or at least briefed on how to obtain crucial government IDs and documents. I didn’t exactly enjoy walking through everything by myself and being expected to know what to do.

What is the best thing about having a Significant Other? Oh my god, everything. I loved and treasured being in a relationship. I appreciated even the arguments because it made me get better at communicating, know how and when to apologize, and how to be more in tune with another person’s feelings. But my favorite part about it would probably be having a person to share everything about yourself and your life to. I’ve learned to be okay being by myself, but I feel the loneliness the hardest when I’m going through a rough patch and remembering that I no longer having someone to turn to.

What makes you unusually uncomfortable? Injections, blood tests, anaesthesia, anything that’s meant to prick my skin.

What is an upcoming purchase you're excited about? I don’t plan on making any purchases soon. Maybe a couple boxes of macarons with 25 pieces each for my birthday to treat myself?? but that’s the only one I’ve been planning.

What is the worst game you've ever played? When I was still taking PE, I dreaded it every time we had to play basketball or water polo.

What’s the oddest thing you like to do? I really like doing tedious tasks, like inputting things into a spreadsheet or writing out lists. I think I’d be a great secretary. < Yeah same. Literally what I said earlier about the spreadsheets.

What's the funniest news story you've seen in the past few weeks? Some fixers at the LTO who approached the mayor of a nearby city to convince him that they can fast-track whatever business he’s in for there, not knowing he’s the fucking mayor. What a mess lmfao.

What do you really really want right now? For things to go back to normal. My parents are very secretive about finances - probably because they don’t want us to worry - but I hate not knowing if I could even turn on the fan or any of our lights anymore. I also hate that I feel guilty whenever I buy things for myself knowing that both my parents are in sticky situations.

What do you hide from people? Things going on in my personal life. I will refer to my problems in social media posts occasionally, but would never provide enough context for people to know more about my life than I’m comfortable with.

What was the first sign you knew you had a crush on someone? I got increasingly nervous around them and I just wanted to be with them all day and listen to their stories and buy them food and stuff. Also, I knew when I started crying over them. Hahahaha man this just made me feel so nostalgic. I miss that feeling of first falling in love with someone.

What's the best lemonade you've made from the lemons life gave you? The self-love, self-acceptance, and self-validation I gained after my breakup felt and continues to feel wonderful. I never realized how much of myself I sacrificed and gave away. I will never do that again and will always make sure to leave more than enough room for myself in the future.

Who was your cartoon crush while growing up? Sam from Totally Spies and Shego from Kim Possible.

What's the best way to deal with religious door knockers? We don’t have those here. But I imagine just telling them “No thanks” and closing my door.

What’s the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever seen or heard? My mom is a big hypocrite in general; she exhibits some behaviors that she would typically chew me out for. But she would never admit to that; that, or she wouldl use mental gymnastics to convince me that the way I’m doing the thing is wrong and that her version is the acceptable one.

Who’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met? Probably one of the artists at Pinto Museum. Every time I’ve gone there, he’s always standing at the first gallery - he looks like your typical visitor, but I’ve come to realize he actually scans the museum looking for people who are genuinely into the artworks and not just there to shoot photos. I know, because he has always ended up approaching me and whoever I’m with at the time so that he can explain every single painting. He’s done the same thing with me - I think he keeps forgetting me, but it’s fine - 2-3 times, with the same spiels and same interesting explanations and anecdotes. In the end he always reveals that he painted a number of the works in the museum and for his sake I will always try to act surprised, haha. Anyway, he’s brilliant and very talented, and always has great stories to tell.

What just doesn't impress you? Certain movies that are meant to be hailed as one of the greats.

What’s the worst possible way to introduce yourself? By being an ass from the get-go, I suppose.

What makes you wish that you were born in the past or the future? I hate missing out on things when I’m already around, which is why I often wish I could live long enough to see what advancs and developments we could be capable of reaching in the future. Would we find a cure for cancer? Will I get to see my country get richer and more developed like it has always deserved to? Will travel to outer space be a thing? It’s stuff like that I’d love to see happen and the idea of potentially missing out on them because maybe they’re not meant to happen in my lifetime kinda bums me out.

What tragic event was coincidentally beneficial to you? I started loving the shit out of myself from my breakup. I thought I was already comfortable with who I was and where I was in life, but I soon learned that I could be doing so much more for myself, self-esteem-wise.

What's something people are proud of, but it doesn't impress you? Wealth, usually, especially if it’s generational. < True. Also, fucking watches? I’ll never understand the need for watches that cost a million pesos when I could easily stomp on them lmao.

What's the worst possible moment to go and play on a bouncy castle? Doing it with an upset stomach.

Who is the greatest ever comedian? I don’t know about greatest. I certainly don’t watch enough comedians to make such a choice.

What’s your irrational fear? Sometimes I’ll get an irrational urge to do something stupid and/or dangerous. For instance I was in Tagaytay last weekend, on the 20th floor of a condo and to my surprise, the windows could be opened and they didn’t have any bars either. As I opened a window I thought about jumping and it freaked me out, so much so I immediately closed it and never went back to it. I believe there’s a word for this phenomenon in a foreign language; I just can’t remember what it is now.

What's your oldest memory? Waking up inside a Winnie the Pooh tent with my sister when I was 3, she 1. My parents let us go ‘camping,’ even though the tent was simply set up on the floor of our bedroom.

What can you not wake up without? Greeting my dogs.

What did you think was cool when you were younger that you now think isn’t? Side bangs.

What are your favorite or most memorable lines from any movie/show? “I would ask you to consider your response in light of the respect that my rank and office deserve, not that which my age and gender might suggest.” from The Crown. Holy shit that line was so good. I’ll need to rewatch this showagain.

What's something people love to hate? Mainstream culture. < Very true.

What’s something that is underrated but extremely useful? Car adaptors have saved my ass so many times while driving long distances and needing to constantly use data to have access to Waze.

[peaky-yamyam]

Sweets: Part Three - Finn Shelby

(gif credit to @bonniebirdsgifcentre)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Peter tells mom and dad about Finn and I, knowing full well the extent of their fury and disappointment. I stand in front of them being berated for my “poor choices”, “for abusing my freedom”, for “being a Peaky whore”, for nearly an hour trying to stop myself from crying and keeping my eyes well away from Peter’s smug face, fearing my reaction if I make eye contact.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I thought they were doing it out of anything other than ignorance; I’m not blind to the fact that on paper Finn is a bad choice for me, but I know in my heart that we fit - that he’s good for me and me for him, but in the time that my mother and father have been bawling at me, they’ve not once let me defend myself, not even paused for breath to give me chance to even speak a word, let alone explain.

So I don’t bother.

I'll never be able to talk them round anyway, they're too set in their idea of me finding a rich, middle class husband that'll solve all their problems to even give Finn a chance. And unfortunately their word is law in this house, so I'm cast to my bedroom where I'm to stay for at least a week and debate the foolish mistake I made.

But after only a couple of days, I begin to really miss Finn. His words play on repeat in my head and I seem to flit between feeling sad and longing for him, to anger that he'd give up so easily.

My mother recognises my foul mood and gives in first, allowing me the freedom to visit friends on the condition I follow the strict curfews she puts in place and, even though I'm glad of the change of scenery and company, I largely ignore my friends when we're out, using the opportunity to try and track down Finn, but whether it's coincidence or clever planning on my mother's part, my path never seems to cross with Finn’s and after a few weeks I give up the hope of being able to talk to him and find out exactly how he feels.

That is until one night I hear a tapping at my window.

I lay there for a few moments, trying to discern the sound. Everyone is in bed, have been for a while, so I know it's down to me to find out the source of the noise.

I wrap my robe around me and peek out the curtains, letting the sliver of light from my room illuminate the dark street.

“Finn?” I gasp, throwing open the window and narrowly avoiding being hit with one of the boiled sweet he's been hurling at the glass.

“Shit,” he mumbles, pulling his arm to his side and stuffing the sweet into his pocket.

“Finn what are you doing?”

“I wanted to speak to you, but I knew you'd been being held hostage so I thought I'd come when everything was asleep…”

I hold up the sweet that nearly knocked me out as a prompt to explain and he rubs a hand nervously across his face.

“Well, I didn't really think it through, I couldn't exactly knock on the door, and that suck was the only thing I had in my pocket. Can you come down please so we can talk. I need to apologise.”

I try to make it look as if I'm debating speaking to him, but I can't stop my feet from slotting themselves into the shoes next me and I waste no time creeping down the stairs and out the front door.

When I make it onto the street, Finn hovers awkwardly - holding himself back from hugging me I assume - before holding his hand out to me and directing me round the corner.

“Did you mean what you said?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“Yeah I did. You do deserve someone better than me-”

I open my mouth to interrupt him, but he holds holds his hand up to stop me.

“-but I love you. I've been going crazy these past few weeks trying to stay away from you, and from what I've heard you've been struggling too, and the thought of you with anyone else turns my stomach…”

“You're babbling Finn.”

“I know. Look, my point is I love you and I'll try everyday to be the type of bloke you deserve. I'm sorry for not sticking up for us to your brother.”

I pout at him, trying to disguise the smile that's pulling at my lips, but he catches me.

“I bought you a present…” he adds, pulling a few bags of sweets from inside his coat. I grab for one but he snatches it away quickly. “Am I forgiven?”

“Of course you are Finn, I love you,” I reply, finally giving in and grinning at him.

He grins back and selects a bag of sweets to give to me and I pop one into my mouth.

“Don't you want another one?” Finn asks as I go to hand the bag back.

“Got my mouth full,” I reply, pointing to the bulge in my cheek where the first boiled sweet sits.

“Take another one,” he prompts, pushing the bag back towards me.

“I'm fine Finn!”

“Just look further in the bag and stop ruining this!”

I narrow my eyes but decide not to fight his strange request, instead opening the bag wider so I can see in properly, and I soon realise why Finn was being so adamant.

There, amongst the sweets sits a small square box, wrapped in velvet with a small bow on top. I tear it from the bag while Finn watches with a smug smile, and when I open it I find a delicate gold ring adorned with a decorative jewel in the centre.

“Marry me,” Finn says when I finally tear my eyes from it.

“You what?” I splutter, unsure if I've even heard him correctly.

“Will you marry me?” he repeats, dropping to one knee and awkwardly holding up a bag of sweets to replace the ring box I'm still holding.

“Finn, I-”

“I don't mean right now, I know you wouldn't get your father's permission but it's not that long before you turn twenty-one-”

“It's a couple of years Finn!”

“I know it is but… right,” he runs a hand nervously through his hair before taking my free hand in both of his, “I love you, and I want to marry you, whether that's in a couple of years when we’re both twenty-one or tomorrow, if for some miraculous reason your father changes his mind. That ring is a promise that one day, whenever that is, we’ll get married. So will you accept it?”

“Of course I will, we’ll just need to start being more careful about keeping us a secret again. I don't think I could deal with another bollocking of my mom and dad,” I reply, allowing Finn to slide the ring onto my finger- right hand to avoid being too obvious.

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, pouring out all the built up feeling the last few weeks apart. I pull away though before things get too far though and admire the ring as it glints in the faint light.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I have the rest of the sweets?”

@robin5r

[splattershotsundae]

Better Eight Than Never --- Chapter 39: Resurfaced

The trip upward took even longer than the one to come down, and was almost constantly at a slope, heading ever upward, and upward, and upward. When Bato emerged, he was hit with a dusting of misty raindrops. It felt almost refreshing, but instead he ducked under a warehouse’s awning next to Simon and Hachi. “Where’s Toda? And does anyone know where Jill went?”

“Toda’s in that puddle, we’re lucky we came up after the rain.” Simon said with a quick gesture. “And Jill… She left before the fight broke out, she decided that worst come to worst, Stacey needed to make it out of there…” Their ears drooped, betraying their worry.

“Then there’s a chance she got out.” Bato murmured, wishing there was more he could do.

“Hey, you idiot, why the fuck did you do that!?” Hachi asked, lightly punching his arm.

He yelped, and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to just stand there, I’m just sorry I couldn’t make it in time.” Almost as soon as he finished talking, she wrapped her arms around him, beginning to cry. He felt a little startled, but regardless he hugged her back. “How did they find out?”

"... They realized who you were, after I took you... They know you have a connection to me, and... When I came back to the facility they got suspicious... You've seen how good I am at lying..." She sniffled. "Th-They took everything… They took my soulmate..."

“I’m so sorry...” He said, casting a glance at her tentacle stubs, a dull gray, and still dripping ink. “… We’ll get you patched up.”

“Hey… Hachi...” Simon said. “Not to intrude but, why the hell did you take us here? Is this near that hideout they took Toda?”

She nodded gently. “It’s the closest one I kn-know to Bato’s house.”

They sighed. “I guess that’s okay reasoning.”

Bato raised his head a little and looked at them. "What about you? Are you okay?”

They glanced at their arm, and the trickle of ink running down it. "… I’ll be fine, we’ll just have matching scars now... Hey Toda? You doing ok over there?" They continued, looking out into the drizzle, which was slowing every second.

After a moment or so, Toda slid back out of the puddle and resumed humanoid form, looking over himself for a second; He was back to normal size, and no longer had swirls of purple ink running through him, a fact which caused Bato to heave a sigh of relief. "I think so." He replied, slowly walking over to the three of them.

Simon gave a relieved nod, then paused. "... I guess now we figure out how to get to one of our houses... We have no train pass, no phones..."

Bato glanced at Toda, then at himself, Hachi, and finally Simon. "And... going out like this would likely cause people to call the police."

Simon took a deep breath."... Ok... Let me see..." They took off the octoling armor they were wearing, then lifted off the black shirt they had slipped on over their splatfest tee earlier. "Wrap her head in this, it'll at least slow the drips."

Bato nodded, taking the shirt from them and started to wrap it around Hachi’s head, doing his best to be careful. “Stay still, the pressure will help stop the bleeding.”

Hachi winced, little tentacle stubs twitching. “Trying...!”

Simon began to pace back and forth. "This part of town is old... If we can find a pay phone, we can call one of our parents collect, and they can drive out here. Do... Either of your parents have cars, Bato?"

He nodded. "Mine do."

“… What’s calling collect?” Toda asked.

Simon paused. “You know... When the other end pays for your call."

"Oh, right." He nodded a little.

"And... Uh... How opposed are you to... Buckets and bucket-like objects?" They added. “We need to disguise you.”

"I'm not." Toda replied quickly, shaking his head. “Buckets are great!”

"Right... Keep an eye out." They sighed. "Too bad I lost my other slosher. I guess we're gonna have to start looking for something soon."

Movement caught Bato’s attention, and he glanced down to see Hachi shifting around in her bare feet. "You cold? I can carry you on my back again." He offered.

She paused, then nodded. “Fine...”

He nodded back and crouched down so she could get on.

Simon tested for rain, seeming satisfied with the results."Alright... Hachi-… Or... Should I say Olympia?"

Hachi sighed as she climbed onto Bato’s back. "I don't know... Olympiah is my real name, but Hachi is my surface name...Olympiah died down there. She has no place on the surface. She has no experience with trains, movies and refrigerators. I do. And my name is Hachi."

Simon huffed. “There’s a small part of that I can relate to. Anyway, if we're as deep in the maze as we were last time, you're gonna have to get us out."

“Oh, yeah… take a right.” She said.

Bato nodded and began to walk, making sure his arms were firmly looped around her legs to support her. “The sooner we get out of here, the better, I imagine.”

"Yes. It's only a matter of time before they try this kettle." Hachi said slowly, wearily. "I almost took you to the plaza one myself... There are so many places to disappear there... But I thought... That's not what we need. Take a left."

"So there is an entrance near the plaza?" Simon asked.

"Yes... There was two, but then the guard at the Octo valley route got a little more strict, leaving one."

"Octo Valley?" Bato asked her curiously.

"Yes. It's the only part of the surface I think we can say is actually our territory. It is beautiful." Hachi replied. "Maybe I can show you when this is over."

"That would be nice." He replied.

“Hold up.” Simon said, then darted ahead and picked up a discarded old ceramic mixing bowl. It had a few chips out of the rim, but otherwise looked ok. "You think you can fit in this?" They asked, looking over at Toda.

Toda studied the mixing bowl for a second, stepping close. "I can try." He said.

Simon nodded and lowered the bowl for Toda, allowing him to squid and jump inside. It was a tight fit, there was only about half an inch of extra room at the top of the bowl, but it would work. "... Right then." They said. “Bucket-like object it is.”

"At the next T, take a right." Hachi said quietly. "Then it'll be one more left and you can just go straight."

Bato nodded, making sure Simon was ready before continuing on.

They walked in silence for a while before Simon finally spoke up again. "Bato, did that journal mention a 'Onella' at all?"

He frowned. "Yeah, a few times; it sounded like Orvokki was telling her about what she was learning about this... state. Why do you ask?"

"Because Toda said that Orvokki was thinking about how they 'needed two'..." They grimaced. "Your context fits too well for comfort."

His frown deepened and he cursed under his breath. "... That would make sense..."

"Great, like we needed any more monsters-" Hachi started, then glanced at the bowl. "... Who... Abuse their newfound abilities...."

The water in the bowl rippled a little bit, but there was no reaction otherwise.

"...Hey, Bato, am I still your prisoner...?" Hachi whispered.

He paused for a second, then shook his head. "No, you're not a prisoner."

She nodded slightly. "... Then I guess you can finally be my friend."

He chuckled, almost caught off guard. "And you can be mine."

She smiled slightly and rested her chin on his head. "You're still stupid… Am I going to have to tell your moms I’m an octopus this time? Compared to your friend it's sort of small business."

He thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah... I know the Agents said not to tell anyone about this, but all things considered I don't think I'm going to have a choice."

She fell quiet for a moment. "... Can we make it so they both learn at the same time...? If they ask about things, I only want to explain once."

"We'll see what we can do." He replied. "Chances are it's just going to be my Stepmom in the car, but I might be able to ask to hold off from asking too many questions until we get back..."

"... Thanks." Hachi mumbled.

Bato nodded, looking both ways as they finally reached the streets. “… What do pay phones actually look like again?”

“Look for a booth.” Simon said.

“Okay.” He agreed as he began to walk again. “How exactly do you know so much about this?”

“Dad gave us some emergency training. At this point, I’m glad that he did, but he should have learned some first aid with us.” They said.

“Don’t worry, I have you covered… hopefully.” He replied.

“Is that one over there?” Hachi asked.

Bato blinked and looked up, following Hachi’s pointing finger to a phone booth across the street. “Yes! Oh Judd, hopefully it still works.” He looked both ways, and then jaywalked, jogging over to the box. “I’ll make the call, I’ll need to set you down Hachi.”

Hachi’s grip slowly lessened, and he helped her to the ground, letting her rest against the wall of a building as he stepped inside the phone booth and put the receiver to his ear as he dialed an operator. He held his breath, waiting for anything, and then finally let it out when the call went through, and he was able to ask for a collect call. Once again, he was plunged into a waiting game, but finally, the call was accepted.

“Bato! Bato is that you!?” The voice of his stepmother crackled through the old speaker.

His grip tightened on the receiver. "... Stepmom! Yes, yes it's me" His voice started to shake a little, he was so glad to hear her voice again. "Yeah, I-I'm fine, I... I-it's a long story and I'll explain, I promise, but I need you to come pick us up, we’re a few blocks down from the old train station by Bluefin Depot."

“Okay, I’ll be right there honey. Stay right where you are, don’t move!” Tanya said quickly, sounding close to tears herself.

"Yeah, I don’t think we’ll have much of a problem with that.” He said, casting a brief glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll come as fast as I can, GPS says around twenty minutes, I love you.” She continued.

“Alright. I-I love you too. See you." He hung up the receiver, rubbed his eyes for a second, then took a deep breath and turned towards the others. "Twenty minutes, tops." He told them. Hachi was unresponsive, and Simon was on the curb, bowl of water--Toda on their lap, and they looksed close to tears. He quietly came over and sat down beside them. "We'll find her." He said softly.

They took a shaky breath and then sobbed.

He reached out and squeezed their shoulder, frowning as he thought. "... Where did she go? Did she go right to the kettle?"

"... Yeah... I... I didn't think about the idea that she might not come up at the same spot we did... O-Or might not get out at all... M-Might get lost…" They sobbed again, tears flowing down their cheeks.

He frowned a little more, still thinking. Jill would've had Stacey with her, though she wasn't exactly in any condition to be giving directions... heck, for all he knew she might've slept through that whole thing. After a second, he looked over towards Hachi. "Hachi? Where did those other kettles lead?"

"MmmMM?" Hachi mumbled, quickly lifting her head. “What…?”

"The other kettles? Where did they come out?" He asked again. He felt sort of bad for waking her, but this was important.

"Uhh... Just the ones that went to the surface or...?" She asked.

"Crud..." He muttered, he hadn't even thought about that. "All of the ones that were near that golden one we came out of; Jill might've taken one of them when she left the stadium, if we know where they came out we might be able to find her."

"Mmm.... I'm so dizzy, I'm not sure I even... remember which domes those ones connected to... not to mention there are different connections from each of the four gold kettles... Plus... I think you're... forgetting how isolated my knowledge of the surface is... until recently, each of the kettles seemed an infinite distance apart...”

"Right... okay..." Bato closed his eyes and ran his hands over his tentacles. “... I'll ask Stepmom to drive around the city for a while." He said after a moment. "There's not a great chance we'll just catch sight of her randomly, but it's better than nothing... If she is still in the domes, though..."

"If she's in the domes she's good as dead." Hachi said.

"SHE CAN'T." Simon snapped, they looked like they wanted to hit something. "SHE THINKS I'M STILL FURIOUS WITH HER."

Hachi flinched and curled back a bit, hugging her legs.

"... She had Stacey with her..." Bato murmured “... There's no one else we can go to... They have both of the Sisters, and as far as we know there's no one else that even knows the domes exist..."

The group fell silent, aside from some gentle thoughtful swishing coming from the mixing bowl. Bato wished he had more words, but all he had was worry. That wasn’t helpful in the slightest.

He was shaken from his thoughts as a horn honked, and he looked up in time to see a dark green car pulling to a stop. “Stepmom!” He exclaimed, standing up and running over to the driver’s side so he could hug Tanya as soon as she stepped out of the car.

“Bato!” She said, with just as much urgency, and hugged him tightly, hand on the back of his head. "Oh thank Judd." She sobbed, kissing him on the head.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment while trying to fight back his own tears. "I-I'm alright Stepmom, really."

"You're alright!?" She pulled back a little and looked at him, lightly touching the nick in his ear, which made him flinch a bit. "What do you mean you're 'alright'? You're hurt! What happened? Where have you been? What... what are you wearing?"

“Um...” Bato looked down at the octoling armor he was still wearing, and averted his gaze.

"Hi Tanya." Simon muttered.

Tanya stared at Simon, then looked over at Hachi. “Hachi? Is that you? I didn’t recognize you without your hat, are you bleeding!?”

“… Am I…?” Hachi murmured as she stood up, leaning most of her weight on the wall behind her. “I hurt so much I forgot...”

Tanya stared a moment longer, then stepped back and looked sternly at Bato, arms folded. "You had better have a good explanation for this, young man. Your mother and I have been worried SICK! Where on earth have you been the last 24 hours?"

"Like I said, it's a long story." Bato said. "But there isn't a lot of time to tell it. There are some places we need to go before we go home."

"Yeah, no kidding! All three of you need to be taken to the hospital!" She said.

"No." He said firmly.

"Excuse me?"

"We can't go to the hospital, there's going to be too many questions. But we do need first-aid supplies, for both Hachi and Simon. And food. And... and we need to look around the city; Jill didn't come out with us, she might be somewhere else and we need to find her."

"Come out? Come out of where? Bato, you're not making any sense." She was looking more concerned by the second, and he wasn’t sure what to tell her.

Hachi stepped forward. "Your idiot son is right... Y-You need to listen to him. There are plenty of things to explain, but it is best explained as.. few times as possible... I also don't know when I'm going to pass out, can we please hurry?"

Tanya looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "... Alright. Get in the car, all three of you. There's a store few blocks down that will likely have some medical supplies and some snacks, I'll stop there and get some things for you."

Bato nodded, looking at Simon. "You... two." He glanced briefly at the bowl. "Should probably sit in the passenger seat; there are three seats in the back, but it's a little snug, and once we get the supplies I'll need room to help Hachi."

"Right." Simon said. "Someone open the door for me."

"This isn't going to be like the van, is it...?" Hachi asked warily as she walked up to the car and experimented with the door handle.

"No, it won't be," He reassured as he opened the passenger door. "Stepmom doesn't drive that fast, and there are seats and seat belts." He opened the back door for Hachi next, watching her slide in and yank on the seat belt. “Whoa, no, not like that, it’ll lock. Pull it slow, and then clip it into the buckle on the seat.”

“… Okay, I think I get it.” Hachi said, following Bato’s instruction.

He nodded and walked around to the other side of the car, acutely aware that his mother was watching Hachi with intense confusion.

“So what’s this belt for?” Hachi asked.

“It’s to hold you in the seat if we come to a sudden stop, so you don’t hurt yourself. That’s what the lock is for.” He said as he clipped in his seat belt.

"Oh I hope that doesn’t happen." Simon muttered, balancing the mixing bowl carefully on their legs.

“Everyone buckled?” Tanya asked.

“Yep.” Bato nodded.

Tanya cast another look of confusion at the bowl on Simon's lap, then shifted the car out of park and started off down the road. "So what sort of injuries are we talking about here? What supplies do I need to get?"

"I got shot in the arm." Simon grimaced.

She glanced at them again. "Was it... the same sort of thing Bato was shot with last week? With the strange ink? They couldn't get all the ink out of that until they Splatted him…"

"Yeah, it is. But I'm sure me splatting will happen sooner or later..." Simon muttered. "There are bigger things to worry about...."

Hachi swallowed before speaking up. "I was-.... My tentacles were... cut off."

“They were what?!” Tanya asked.

“Chopped off, removed, severed--” She said, trying to find the best synonym.

“Bato, please, let me take you all to a hospital.” Tanya said, tilting the rear-view mirror to get a look at him.

“Please trust me when I say we can’t.” Bato said. “We know first aid, we can keep this from getting worse for a day or two, and then we can go, I promise.”

“Alright, I’m holding you to that.” Tanya said as she put the car into park. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, what sort of snacks do you want?”

“Just cover the bases.” He replied. “Some of us haven’t eaten since the waffles you made.”

Tanya gave a small gasp, but nodded and got out of the car. “Love you hun.”

Bato nodded, and watched her go. She was so worried… Some movement at the side of his vision caught his attention, and he looked over to see Hachi gripping the seat. "Are you okay?"

"... I... I've hoped all my my life that... th-that... I'd..." She took a deep breath. "She stomped on my tentacles Bato... S-She stomped o-on them..."

"... I... I saw..." He said quietly, glancing away for a second. He wished he would've had the time to get to the stage before it'd happened... the glee of the crowd that the disgracing had been met with made him sick.

"I... It was her p-plan to kill m-me all along..." She said quietly. "I-I knew too much... even if... she would s-say I could live, she would kill m-me off stage, I-I know it..."

Bato's hands clenched into fists for a second. He wouldn't have been surprised, honestly... He hesitated, then rested his hand on her shoulder, though lightly enough that she could still pull away. "She won't be able to while you're up here. You'll be okay." He felt her lean into the touch, and rubbed her with his thumb. “You’ll be okay…”

"Sooo... If our squad was the Justice league I guess you'd be Aquaman, huh?" Simon murmured as they looked down at the bowl.

This caught Bato so off guard that he burst out laughing.

“What? What is it?” Hachi asked frantically.

“Oh… oh boy…” Bato said, wiping his eye. “Aquaman is a superhero.”

“Like batman?” Hachi asked.

“Yeah, same universe even.” He chuckled.

She slowly tilted her head at him, but then winced and straightened it again. “Okay, what are your rules for laughing?”

He blinked. “I’m… not sure I follow.”

Hachi took a deep breath. "We have this thing back home were if the person who said something doesn't laugh, but you do, you're... making fun of them? In a not-friendly way? It's... Something that's been... very confusing lately... I've been going back and forth on it and it's almost gotten me punched."

"Oh..." He nodded a little. "Yeah, it... can be like that sometimes up here. Generally, if the other person shows some form of amusement, like a grin or a chuckle or something like that, then it's okay; everyone has a different way of expressing amusement, and a different sense of humor, so it's certainly something to be aware of, especially around people you don't know very well." He paused, then added; "And sometimes you might go too far, or laugh at something you shouldn't have, and that's okay as long as you apologize and promise to try and be careful about it in the future; it's when you disrespect the other person's feelings and insist it's their fault for not finding something funny that it becomes a problem."

“Ah...” She said. “I’ll… try to remember.”

Just then, the driver’s door opened and Tanya climbed back into the car. “I’m back! I hope you’ll eat packaged sandwiches.” She said, holding out two plastic bags.

He took the bags from her and checked the contents. Everything he'd need was in the first bag; gauze, bandages, disinfectant and so on.  The other had some cold plastic-wrapped sandwiches, sodas, and chips. “Looks good stepmom.”

Tanya turned in her seat, looking into the backseat."Do you need any help, sweetie?"

"I've got it." He replied, passing the food bag back into the front seat. “You can eat some now Simon.” He added, then unbuckled and slid over to Hachi, pulling some supplies out of the bag. “Hachi, go ahead and get that shirt off your head.”

“Okay...” She murmured, then pulled the ink-soaked shirt off, revealing the rows of suction cups on the top of her head and her mangled tentacles. She winced, then screwed her eyes shut.

Bato heard a gasp, and did his best to ignore his Stepmom's reaction and began to get to work, trying to be quick but also to be careful. He made sure that the tentacle stubs were bleeding as little as possible before putting on gauze and bandages. It took a little longer than he would've hoped, what with the stubs twitching away from his hand every so often, but he did eventually get them all patched up to the best of his ability. "Alright, I think that'll do it." He said softly, sitting back a little. “Simon, should I patch you up?”

Simon glanced at him, then down at the bowl. "... Can I do it while sitting? I don’t want to risk spilling him."

“… Him?” Tanya asked.

“It’s on your right arm, right?” He asked. “I can treat it from the door so you don’t have to set him down.”

"... Yeah, that should work." They nodded.

"Him?!” Tanya asked again.

Bato nodded, opening his door and stepping outside. He should explain at least some of this part now; there were already so many questions as it was. "So, ah." He began, as he opened Simon's door. "You remember what I told you and Mom about Yuri? And his... condition?"

"... Yes...?" Tanya said, looking confused.

"Well, um... the same sort of thing happened to... to Toda." He continued, pointing to the bowl.

Tanya's gaze dropped to the bowl in Simon's lap, and she stared at the water inside. "... That's... that's Toda?" She asked slowly.

"Yeah." Simon said. "He's much more polite about it. Whenever you’re ready Bato."

He nodded and knelt down, applying pressure to their arm. “Sorry if this hurts.”

They sharply inhaled. “You can say that again.”

“Sorry...” He said as he continued to treat the wound, doing his best not to let any of Simon’s ink drip into Toda’s bowl. Toda’s body? It was too confusing to think about right then. “I have some good news.” He said as he began to wrap the bandage around Simon’s arm. “That bullet didn’t have time to put much ink in you, I think you’ll be okay.”

They nodded. “Thank Judd… and thank you.”

“Your welcome.” He said, going back to his seat before looking around the food bag. “Hachi, which sounds better, chicken or ham?”

“Hm…? What…?” She asked, lifting her head.

“Which sandwich would you like?” He asked again, holding out the sandwiches.

“… Um… that one…?” She said, grabbing the chicken sandwich.

He nodded and began to unwrap the other one.

“… Can Toda eat?” Simon asked. “Things just seem to pass right through him. Was there anything like that mentioned in the journal?”

"She said they pumped nutrients into the water, and she was able to absorb them that way..." He said with a small frown before biting into his sandwich.

“That’s not very helpful.” They muttered. “He might have to wait until we turn him back… speaking of which, Tanya, can you look up splatfest spawners?”

“Um, alright, why do you ask?” Tanya asked.

“If we splat Toda, he should turn back to splatfest purple.” Bato said.

“Ah… on it.” She said.

“… Bato, do you have something I can put over my tentacles…?” Hachi asked.

“Um…  hold on.” He said, turning in his seat to look into the trunk. “… I see a beanie, I just… have to...” He stood up and swung his arm around until he was able to grab it. “Okay, got it… Try this on.” He said, passing it to Hachi.

“Okay...” She said, then yawned, slipping the knit fabric onto her head. Within seconds, the thread’s color changed to match her deep purple ink, but at least now nobody could see her suction cups. “A… little tight… But it’ll do.”

“Alright, glad I could help.” He said, getting back to his sandwich.

“Sorry Toda, I’m getting crumbs on you. In you?” Simon asked.

“Mmph, I had that same word problem.” Bato grunted.

The water bubbled, and Simon huffed. “Glad to see you think it’s funny.”

"So after that spawner, where do we go?" Tanya asked. "Should I get you all home? To the police?"

"Not the police." Bato said firmly. "After that we need to look around for Jill.”

“Where exactly?" She asked, frowning.

"Everywhere; the ports, the plaza, near the arenas. We don't know exactly where she is, so we need to look everywhere we can." He said. “Those are some of the places it sounds like there are kettles.”

"Kettles?" She asked, "As in, the thing you make tea in? What does that have to do with Jill? What on earth happened to you all!?"

Simon sighed. "It's very complicated."

"It... would be best if we waited until you and Mom can both listen." Bato said slowly. "So we don't have to explain everything twice. But we will explain, I promise."

Tanya didn't look like she was wholly satisfied with that answer, but all she did was sigh and start the car. “Alright, everyone make sure you’re buckled, there’s a splatfest spawner not far away.”

“It feels so weird eating again already…” Hachi murmured. “You squidlings and your strange eating habits...”

Bato huffed as he buckled in. “Right back at you, I wouldn’t have dreamed of eating crickets.”

Simon spluttered. “Crickets?”

“Squidlings?” Tanya murmured.

“Jokes on you, this would be better with crickets...” Hachi huffed.

Bato couldn't help chuckling a little, "I can't say that I agree."

"... Bato, did she make you eat bugs?" Simon asked slowly, sounding grossed out.

"I'm not sure if I'd say she 'made me', but yes." Bato said, glancing at Hachi briefly. "It... wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be, to be honest. But it's not something I'd eat every day, if I had the choice."

"Just when I thought that place wouldn't get any weirder...." They muttered.

"You're the weird ones!" Hachi said between bites.

"What place?" Tanya demanded.

"... Hachi's... house." Simon said slowly.

She glanced at them briefly. "... And where is Hachi's house...?" She asked, also slowly.

"Can we not talk about my home right now?" Hachi asked. " I did almost just get publicly executed."

"Publicly WHAT?" Tanya demanded.

Bato took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Stepmom, I said we would explain when we got back..."

"Bato, none of us have heard from any of you for 24 hours, there were these... terrorist attacks? During Splatfest, and you finally show up and you're not only hurt but you refuse to say anything? I think you can see why I'm more than a little upset and scared right now!" Tanya replied testily, gripping the steering wheel.

"FINE!" Hachi snapped, unbuckling the seat belt and moving forward to grip Tanya's seat, causing the car to swerve. "You want to know what's going on!? I'm an octoling! An OCTARIAN! And my kind wants to kill everybody up here, since you forced us to run underground MC knows how long ago! And I'M not going to let them!"

"A... an Octoling?" Tanya asked, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"They're like Inklings, but they're Octopuses instead of Squids." Bato explained. "Hachi, please sit down.”

"I know what they are." Tanya replied. "I almost majored in History when I was in College, remember? Or have I never told you that? Anyway, I just thought... I thought they'd all died out a long time ago."

Hachi huffed and sat back down, fumbling with her seat belt. "Well obviously not, since I AM ONE."

"Obviously," Tanya muttered. "So, wait, the attacks yesterday were done by Octolings too, then? And the one at the Sundae shop last week?"

"Yeah, both of those were Octoling attacks." Simon said. "And... Toda didn't get run over at port mackerel. That was also Octolings. They've been hunting us pretty much all week."

Tanya glanced briefly at the bowl, then back out at the road. "But... why you four?"

"At first it was because we had Hachi." Bato said slowly. "She was our... prisoner, basically. Then it was... it was because of our involvement with Yuri. It turns out that they were involved in that as well, it was their technology that made him like that to begin with."

"Is that enough answers for now!?" Hachi snapped.

Tanya took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "... For now."

"Good." Hachi muttered.

[“Take a left turn on Brain Coral Road”] The phone blared. [“Your destination will be on the right.”]

“Alright… looks like we’re about here...” Tanya said, turning and parallel parking in front of a small, open park. Despite the very light weather, nobody was out today. A normally bustling and loud park, now dead quiet, in a mostly quiet city.

Bato unbuckled his seat belt. "You need me to hold Toda so you can get out?" He asked Simon.

"Yeah." They replied simply.

Bato nodded, stepping out of his door, then opening up the passenger door for them, carefully taking the bowl from them.

".... Should I be getting out too..?" Hachi slowly asked.

"No, you don't have to." He reassured. “You should probably just stay here and rest.”

Hachi nodded a little and shrunk back in her seat, closing her eyes.

Bato frowned a little at her for a second, then slowly turned and started to walk towards the spawner, Simon on his heels. He gave one more quick look around, then set down the bowl. “Alright, the coast is clear.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the water rippled and Toda jumped out of the bowl, resuming a humanoid shape, but with a frown placed firmly on his face.

Bato reached back and grabbed his brush, holding it with both hands. "You ready?" He asked.

Toda’s gaze dropped, and it looked as though his brow furrowed. "... If Jill and Stacey are still down there, someone's going to have to go get them..."

“What?” He asked, lowering the tip of his brush.

"I... I was thinking... what if I went back like this?" He continued, lifting his head again to meet his gaze.

“Alone!? Toda that’s--”

"You can't go back." Toda cut him off. "After what happened in the stadium, you'll be recognized no matter how good your disguise is." He turned toward Simon. "And you're hurt, you have no weapon, and you might be recognized too. The only ones that will recognize me like this is Orvokki and maybe Orion."

"Toda, given a few days, all the splatfest spawners will be gone! What if by the time you come back... you can't turn back!?" They replied in an increasingly worried tone.

"... We don't know anyone else that can help us with this, and even if they call in the army or something it might be too late." Toda replied. "If they're still down there then someone has to go back, and soon! And... well, Orvokki's apparently been at it for quite a while, and Yuri said he'd been like this for about a week before we met him... I can figure something out."

"I don't want to lose you too!" They shouted. “We have to stick together!”

Toda's body rippled a little bit, his expression pained, "S-Simon, what other choice do we have?"

“Toda, if you go back down there, you could die!” Bato exclaimed. “Remember how much you shrank after using the kettles!? They’re going to be on high alert, if they see you, you’re dead!”

"And if either of you go back then you will!" Toda's hands clenched into fists, his rippling getting worse.

“Toda, listen to me!” Simon said. “It means so much that you’d risk everything for Jill but… You’re risking everything for Jill! She’d… She’d hate that…”

“… I bet she’d hate being dead more...” Toda muttered.

“It’s not like she’s helpless!” They snapped.

“No, she’s not, but she’s probably lost, and alone, in a world we don’t understand! Maybe she’s stuck, I can go and get her out!” He said. “I can go down and get her back!”

Just then, Bato heard a low hum, and he lifted his head. What was that…? It was hard to hear between Simon and Toda bickering, but it was steadily growing louder… and louder. “Guys, quiet down.”

“What, are you siding with him now!?” Simon asked. “It’s a suicide mission!”

“Shhh!” He hushed. “I think something’s coming, Toda, hide!”

Toda opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the humming grew into a roar, and he quickly transformed and hopped back into the bowl.

As he did, the source of the roar came into sight. A cluster of motorcycles tore down the street around the park, and the one at the front made a sudden sharp turn and caused the group to begin circling the block.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, stepping protectively in front of Toda’s bowl.

“I don’t know.” Bato said, holding his brush at the ready as the bikers deftly dodged some blockades meant to prevent cars from crashing into the park, and tore down the path toward them. He backed up to the spawner, looking around worriedly as the group of motorcycles began to drive around them, circle after circle until finally the lead motorcycle, which had handle bars shaped like the claws of a mantis shrimp, and one such decal on the side, skidded to a stop directly in front of them.

The driver pulled off her helmet, letting her short tentacles hang down. “This them?” She asked, glancing back at a smaller figure who was clinging to her hip for dear life. She was wearing a helmet, just like the driver’s, and a set of… octoling armor!?

“Simon!” The passenger exclaimed, pulling off her helmet and then scrambling off the motorcycle.

“Jill!?!” Simon yelped, flabbergasted as Jill ran up and gave them a hug.

“You’re okay!” She said. “I was so worried, I had no idea what had happened, I was going to go home to grab a gun and I was going to come back down and find you!”

Bato shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it… Who are these people…?”

She glanced up quickly. “Oh these guys? They’re the mantis crew! They’re the gang I fight with! This is Meg, she’s an amazing battler!” She said in a rush, pointing at the lead driver. “And over there is Harold ‘The Crusher’, and the goblin shark there is Yolt, and that’s Darrick, and man, they’re so cool! They were holding a fight in the neighborhood and postponed it to take me home!”

“Nice to finally meet you.” Meg said, taking off a glove and extending her hand toward Simon. “Don’t worry, Roderick’s no longer affiliated with us.”

Simon paused, then carefully shook her hand. “… Uh… nice to meet you too.. I guess.”

“And this is Bato!” Jill continued, reaching over and patting his shoulder. “Where’s… Where’s Toda?”

“Um...” He said awkwardly. “He’s… alright, don’t worry.

“DON’T YOU HURT THEM!”

Bato looked up sharply at the sound, and saw his stepmom punching Yolt in the face. “Whoa! Stepmom!” He yelped, running over to her. “It’s okay! These are Jill’s friends!”

Tanya froze, slowly pulling her fist away from Yolt’s face. “… Sorry about that...”

The goblin shark rubbed her snout. “… Fuck lady, you have a good punch.”

“Sorry...” She repeated, taking a step back.

“This is my mom.” Bato said awkwardly.

“Hm… good Mom.” Meg said, revving her bike. “Alright crew, let’s get going!” The motorcycles all sprang to life, one after the other and began to spiral out of the park. “Bye Jiiiiillll!”

“Byyyyyye!” Jill called back, waving both of her arms.

“… You do still have Stacey, right?” Simon asked.

“What? Oh, yeah, of course!” Jill said, pulling the containment tank off her hip. “Um… You doing okay?” She asked the orange squid within.

Bato leaned over and peered at Stacey, who seemed… shaken, but ‘alright’. “We should get her someplace she can sleep.”

“She can sleep on the couch at our house!” Jill said quickly. “It’s big and soft, and…. She can help explain to dad why we were gone.”

Bato nodded and looked down at the bowl. “Okay, they’re gone, are you ready to get splatted now?"

The water bubbled, then Toda came up out of the bowl. “Yeah… Sorry about that.”

“Toda!” Jill exclaimed. “You’re okay!”

“So are you!” Toda grinned.

“Hold on, lets get him back to normal so you can hug him.” Bato murmured, then pressed the sub button on his tank to place a mine on the ground. “Alright bud, go on.”

Toda looked at it, then took a deep 'breath' and gave a joking salute. “For honor!” He said before stepping onto the mine, causing it to explode into a gush of ink.

The few seconds it took for the spawner to work seemed like a small eternity, but sure enough, the spawner started to spin rapidly, and Toda popped right out. He stumbled and dropped to his knees, coughing up a small glob of water before gasping painfully for air.

"You alright, Bud?" Bato asked, kneeling down to give him a hand.

"... Y-yeah." Toda managed after a moment, grabbing onto his hand and getting to his feet just in time to get a hug from Jill.

“I’m so happy we’re alive! I can’t believe there was a doubt there for a while!” Jill exclaimed.

“Well, it’s far from over.” Simon said. “We have to get home… we need to prepare for whatever’s coming next.”

“Agreed...” Bato murmured. “Hey stepmom, think you can swing by the Grace house before we go home?”

Tanya nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. “Of course.” She said, turning to look back at the car. “It’ll just be a tight fit to get all of you into the back seat.”

“Friend Tetris!” Jill exclaimed, running toward the car. “Last one in’s gotta lay on everyone else’s lap!”

“You make that sound like that’s a bad thing!” Simon said as they ran after her.

Bato chuckled and ran after them, reciting in his head over and over again what he was going to tell his moms. It might still be a long night.

Bato, Toda, and Tanya are Knitter’s characters

Simon, Jill, Hachi, Orvokki, Orion, Ophelia, Yuri, Stacey, and the Mantis Crew are Shuckle’s characters.

Splatoon belongs to Nintendo.

Please consider liking or reblogging if you enjoyed, it’s nice to know we’re doing things right.

Shuckle has a patreon if you would like to provide additional support!

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[kaleidodreams]

40 Questions - Meme for Fic Writers

Well, I only got one ask for this game, but I really wanted to answer more questions, so I’ve just decided to answer all of them!

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic. - I don't know if I really have a "comfort zone"... Maybe family drama and dealing with characters' backstories?

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to? - Hmm, fake dating seems like it would be pretty fun to try to write. I just wouldn't know which characters to use.

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole? - The whole A/B/O thing... Yeah, no.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them? - Maybe five or six? And you can check out the answer to Question 37 if you want to know what most of them are.

5. Share one of your strengths. - People seem to like my original characters.

6. Share one of your weaknesses. - I'm not very good at description.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. - This is from Ashes to Ashes:

However, the more time that passed, the more otou-sama lost himself in his work and the more distant we became. Our house, which had always been full of laughter and smiles when okaa-sama was alive and healthy, might as well have been a cemetery itself, the ghost of her memory haunting us who remained. Even as young as I was, I realized that otou-sama would never be able to truly recover from his grief as long as we stayed there, where the scent of okaa-sama's favorite perfume still seemed to linger in the air and every room remained a museum to the woman who once lived there because otou-sama couldn't bear the thought of putting her things away.

I just really like the "house is a cemetery" metaphor. (By the way, that story is written from Rei Hino’s point of view, if that wasn’t clear from the title.)

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. - This is from To Build a Home:

"Take if off and put it back the way it was," he ordered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But why? You always said my bed looked so cute."

"Yeah, your bed. But this is my bed, and I don't want it to look cute."

"Your bed?" She set down an ugly-cute hippo plush and arched an eyebrow. "Isn't it our bed now?"

He rubbed at his temple. "Yes, of course, but… You know what I mean." Mamoru pointed an accusing finger at a very familiar blanket – one that was too small to properly fit the queen-sized bed. "I am not having sex on a bed covered in bunnies and crescent moons!"

"That's never stopped you before. We did it all the time –"

"You're missing the point, Usako! We're adults now. Isn't it about time you outgrew all this cutesy crap?"

He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Oh, I see. I can move into your oh-so-sophisticated apartment, just not my 'cutesy crap'." She grabbed an empty cardboard box from off the floor and started throwing her plush toys in it with a force that made Mamoru very glad she wasn't pummeling them at him. "If that's how you really feel, then maybe we shouldn't move in together at all!"

I like it because I tend to have trouble writing arguments, but this one turned out exactly how I wanted it to, and I can just picture the scene so vividly.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write? - Hmm, probably Melting Ice? It took me about eight years -- I started writing it a couple of years before I actually started posting it -- to finally finish the whole thing. Sure, it’s a long fic (over 150,000 words), but in comparison, I managed to write Spirit of Fire, which is almost twice as long, in only two or three years (ignoring the side stories added later).

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write? - Probably my first fics because back then I wasn’t as self-conscious about my writing. But later in my career, I seem to recall Blood On His Hands being really easy and fast to write until I got to the last chapter. Honestly, I think the ending took me longer to figure out than the rest of the story!

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby? - Both!

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more? - This is easiest to choose with Sailor Moon, so can I just say the entire SuperS season/Dream Arc? Obviously because of the Chibiusa/Helios OTP factor, but also because we learn about the Inners’ families and Elysion/the Golden Kingdom, both subjects that I love exploring.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across? - I learned about this from a post on Tumblr, but it’s REALLY helpful to run your story through a screen reader (I just use Google Translate). I think I’m pretty good at catching spelling and grammar errors, but one thing I have trouble with is missing words. Hearing the story read aloud instead of just reading it to myself and mentally filling in the blanks makes the skips so much easier to find. I also worry a lot about the flow of my writing, so I figure if it doesn’t sound too terrible being read by a computer, it’s probably not as awful as I think it is!

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across? - Probably the "avoid adverbs" rule. Sometimes using an adverb is the best choice!

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose? - Oh, man, this is totally impossible to choose... Um, To Be By Your Side? I really don't know.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be? - If I had to, I would no doubt pick Chibiusa/Helios, but I’m really glad I don’t! I enjoy being able to write a variety of couples and imagine I would get bored fairly quick if I was limited to just writing one OTP forever, as much as I may love them.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? - It depends on the story, but most of the time it’s out of order, which is frankly annoying, but it seems to work for me.

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? - Not really, unless you count screenwriting and research tools.

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse? - Haha, I remember when I first started writing fanfiction as a teenager, there were four characters I considered my muses: Helios (obs!), Shigure from Fruits Basket (who is a writer himself), Touya from Card Captor Sakura, and Tooya from Ceres: Celestial Legend (not sure why, though, since I never wrote for Ceres). I guess I would still consider Helios my muse?

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions. - At my desk in my bedroom, with the room at a comfortable temperature and absolute quiet.

21. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting? - I tend to edit while I write, which I know isn’t generally considered the best way to do things, but it works for me. So I can’t really answer this question definitively.

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions). (Skipping this one unless someone wants to make a suggestion for a passage.)

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why? - Spirit of Fire, because while I love the story and the characters, I think it could be better written, especially the earlier chapters.

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics? - I did take down a first chapter of a planned multi-part and reworked it into a one-shot when I decided I didn’t want to write the rest of it, if that counts. (The Legend, if you’re interested.) Otherwise, no.

25. What do you look for in a beta? - Basically someone who wants to beta for me. *laughs* Like I said before, I consider myself pretty good at catching spelling and grammar goofs, so I don't feel like I really need a beta, but if someone offers, it doesn't hurt to have a second pair of eyes!

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you? - I've done so in the past, and if somebody asks me, I would probably be willing to do it again. I would say I focus mainly on spelling/grammar, occasionally making suggestions or asking questions if something seems off (like a character feels OOC or something).

27. How do you feel about collaborations? - I've never really been a part of one, so I don't have much of an opinion. If you're good friends, it seems like it would be a lot of fun, but maybe a bit difficult if you have different styles.

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much. - his lordship Chaos, Allekha, and commas_and_ampersands 

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? - I honestly can’t think of any. I have enough sequels and prequels of my own stuff to write! *laughs*

30. Do you accept prompts? - Not unless I’m doing a drabble game, which I haven’t done in years, or I’m taking part of some writing challenge. Just random prompts, though? No. I like to write what I want to write.

31. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant? - I’d say I’m middle-of-the-road between the two, closer to being strict about being canon compliant.

32. How do you feel about smut? - Despite being asexual, I’m a fan!

33. How do you feel about crack? - A lot of it is really stupid, but with the right writer and idea, crack can be brilliantly funny. I usually only read it on recommendation, though.

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con? - It’s not something I go looking for as a reader, but I don’t mind if I come across it and it’s handled well. I’ve written some dub-con myself, mostly in the form of drunk sex, but also some incidents involving magic. Overall, though, I’m really a HUGE fan of consent when it comes to sex scenes. Consent is sexy!

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character? - Yes, of course. Done it before and I’ll probably do it again!

36. Which is your favorite site to post fic? - I like AO3 and FF.net equally well.

37.Talk about your current wips.

Friends With Benefits (Kaleido Star) - This is the only WIP I’m actively posting. It’s a sequel to Blood On His Hands, and it’s about Layla and Yuri engaging in a, well, “friends with benefits” arrangement, leading to complications when they fall in love. 

The Bonds We Choose (Yuri!! On Ice) - A sequel to It’s Complicated, taking place about four years later. Yuri, Otabek, and Mila have settled into their unusual relationship -- Yuri and Otabek are queerplatonic partners while Otabek is also dating/living with Mila -- when a drunken mistake at the Olympics changes their lives forever.

Metamophosis (Sailor Moon) - This is kinda a prequel to To Be By Your Side, telling the story of how Helios became priest of Elysion.

Stolen Dreams (Sailor Moon) - Ha, this is the only non-sequel/prequel story on the list! But it’s about an incubus who plans to get revenge on Helios by seducing a grown-up Chibi-Usa, who’s under a lot of stress due to her upcoming college entrance exams.

38. Talk about a review that made your day. - I was really happy when @floraone favorited and wrote a review for my Sailor Moon Smutember entry, Head of the Class. Knowing that someone like her, who IMO writes the BEST sex scenes I’ve ever read, enjoyed it... Well, like the question said, it really made my day! I also was pleasantly surprised to get any reviews at all for my last two YOI fics, Lonely Hearts and No Risk, No Reward, since Minako/Celestino and Sara/Emil are both extremely rare pairs. I seriously didn’t think anybody would read them, so I was thrilled with the reviews I got.

39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them? - Occasionally, and I just ignore them.

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one). (Again, skipping, unless someone wants to suggest a story.)

[gaiatheorist]

The gym.

Well, that was about 17 kinds of weird. The last time I did any kind of organised exercise was a step-aerobics class when I was in sixth form. I fell off the step. Apart from cross-country running, I didn’t ‘do’ PE, I used to forge notes from my Mother, excusing myself on a regular basis, and I’m cackling at the memory of a PE teacher saying “If you’re not going to do it properly, you may as well stand outside.” Obviously, I calmly walked out of the gym, and stood outside. She was exasperated, I was clumsy, uncoordinated, and intelligently lazy, in that I didn’t see the point in whatever activity it was she was trying to have me participate in. I’m not the ‘athletic’ type. There’s another side-cackle, at one of the shouty-male PE teachers, declaring “I’ve never known a *surname* that couldn’t run.”, I could run, and I did, but I’d always drop back into second-place at the finish-line, and let Helen, or Joanne take ‘first’, I’m odd. (Partly to deliberately frustrate ‘authority’ by taking second when I could have had first, partly because the teacher was ‘wrong’ in assuming to gauge my potential based on my surname.) 

Yesterday, for the first time in well over 20 years, I engaged in actual exercise. (That wasn’t digging, or humping the ex’s band-gear about.) As part of the NHS Social Prescribing for Mental Health scheme, I have a discounted 12-week membership at a gym 10 minutes from my house. Piss off, it was that, or pottery, and if I’d taken one of the art-and-craft options, there’d be an expectation that I’d engage with people. Intelligently lazy again, or perhaps emotionally repressed, there’s less expectation that I’ll hold a conversation during aerobic exercise. (Thinking on, the girl DID ask more questions than she answered, but it was all fairly safe content, TV programmes, holidays, and such.)  

It wasn’t as horrible as I anticipated. To be fair, it was quite easy. I’m horribly atrophied, and nothing even close to physically (or mentally) ‘fit’. I’m obstinate-stubborn-tenacious-resilient, though, I’d been allocated the ‘gym bunny’, and I know she’s part of my ‘seek and follow guidance on complex long-term health conditions’ commitment towards ‘finding work in the future.’ She’s very young, because I’m quite old, blonde, enthusiastic, and conventionally attractive. She’s also really good at her job, incredibly considerate and reassuring, she’s gone above-and-beyond in terms of adjustments to environment for my brain injuries, I imagine she found it a bit odd circuit-training without the pounding background music, with the lights off. (Side-guilt, at having 1:1 training, occupying a whole ‘studio’ that could be booked out for a group of people. I’m not ready for the gym-proper, it’s too noisy, and crowded, she took me in there last week to show me, and, after about 30 seconds, I thought I was going to fall over with the sensory overload.) I don’t ‘want’ to do this, but I know I need to. 

I knew I wasn’t going to have the endorphin-euphoria, very Arya Stark “That’s not me.” My worst-case outcome was ending up in an ambulance, and best-case was not falling off anything, realistic target for anyone who doesn’t have brain damage. I didn’t fall off anything, but the box-step was a challenge, and there was a significant ‘wonk’ during the ball-squat exercise. “I need to slow down, there’s positional hypotension because of the movement here.” “Do you want to stop?” “No, if I stop, it’ll break the pace completely, I’m just going to slow it.” “Would it help you to focus on a fixed point?” “I am, there’s a bit of fluff on the floor just there, and I’m not looking at anything else.” She’s very good at her job, I’m reasonably adept at working out accommodations for the various ways my brain doesn’t work properly. 

She’d worked out the circuit to engage all of my major muscle-groups, (she didn’t do a warm-up, though) at the induction last week, I’d explained that I’m a Terrible Bastard, with a tendency to over-reach, and advised her that she’d need to be strict with me. She might have taken that as a cop-out, I don’t know, ‘some’ women are content to exist as weak-and-feeble, Arya again, ‘not me.’ I’d explained my balance and coordination issues, and she’d made all the requisite reasonable adjustments in terms of making sure I had something to grab, or lean on, in case I had a wobble. I’d explained that I’d brought my wrist-brace because I’d had a massive tendon-spasm earlier in the day, and that I’d put it on as a visual reminder if I noted any discomfort in my damaged hand. (Later on in the session, I elaborated that it was the ‘unusual’ movement of wrangling myself into a sports-bra that had caused the shortened tendon to ‘twang’ out of place. Disturbing, both the fact that I could see the misaligned tendon, and had to physically manipulate it back into position, and that I was telling a near-stranger that I’d hurt myself putting on my bra.) At the start of the session, she’d explained that she’d worked out a gentle circuit, because neither of us knew what my baseline was, that I could stop at any time, and that it didn’t matter if I didn’t complete the whole circuit on the first visit. 

She was more surprised than I was when I completed the whole circuit without breaking a sweat. (In fairness, I didn’t know I’d completed it until she told me, half way through the ball-squats, that I only had one more minute until the end of the circuit. That’s psychological progress for me, I’d ‘allowed’ another person to have complete control, rather than my usual-behaviour of insisting on knowing what was going to happen every step and stage.) 

“We can wrap up now, or go around again, how are you feeling?”

“Like I could do it again.”

I did it again, using slightly more force with the resistance-bands, and REALLY trying to adjust my fundamentally floppy form according to her instructions. (I don’t know what ‘activate your core’ means, my left wrist has a tendency to turn in, due to the shortened tendons, and I was moving my hips instead of my waist on the leg-raises. It takes 50 repetitions to develop muscle-memory, I’ll practice at home, like the swot I am.) I did sweat on the second circuit, which was disgusting, but also the point of it, the only time I couldn’t draw enough breath to speak was on the final round of ball-squats, and that was my own fault, I was shallow-breathing, anxious about the hypotension happening again. (Adjust that next time, you twerp, you’ll induce hypotension if you don’t breathe properly, use your own script.) 

I did it. I did it twice. I exercised for a whole hour, the girl had only expected me to manage half of that. ‘Expectations’ and ‘management’ aren’t really standard definitions where I’m concerned. (I’m really not flexible enough to blow my own trumpet.) Next week is going to be a challenge, because she only had afternoon appointments when the studio was free, and my fatigue is always worse later in the day. (She saw the start of the cognitive fatigue as she was booking me in for the next session, she’d given me multiple options, and then verbally told me the next two appointments, I couldn’t ‘hold’ and process two appointment-dates at the same time, my brain had decided to have a nap.) 

Onwards and upwards. I didn’t ‘smash it’, but I did it, I didn’t enjoy any of it, but I didn’t fall over, or hurt myself. I’m not aiming for a bikini body, I don’t own a bikini. I’d put ‘balance and coordination’ as one of my targets, which might not have been the best choice, I was clumsy before the brain injuries, and you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I accept that I’ll never have ‘all’ of my previous strength and functionality, my brain injuries are permanent, I am disabled. I’ll work with what I have left, to the best of my ability, and see where that takes me.

[dreadlace]

Memoir (2016)

Let us go way back… back when one's mind was innocent and naïve. When one is free from the harshest realities of the world. Back when one… was but a child. Yes, let's go back to that. “Elizabeth!” Her mother yelled, a voice so stern it echoed throughout their quiet home. Harsh feet stomping on hard, wooden floorboards, leaving a squeaking sound here and there. Eyes scanning the vicinity, looking for the girl, a strange girl at that. Finally a small head popped up from behind the sofa near the fireplace that barely had a pinch of flame. “Yes… mommy?” A girl, not more than 6 years of age, replied in the shyest of tones. “What are you doing there, child?” There, the mother’s brows narrowed, but the voice went softer, much like pure cotton. She approached closer to the young one, a hand to one side of her hip. “I was just observing the fire, mommy.” The ingenue pointed weakly at the burned wood pieces, hardly any flame lingered still. She smiled, though it faded since the expression of the elder remained unshaken. Mother sighed, not wanting to question her, yet still did. Why must her daughter be so peculiar? Why cannot she be the cliché normal and perfect daughter playing outside with children? “And may I ask why?” The mood of her voice was sarcastic, knowing the child wouldn't understand. “Well… I can see how the flame is dying. I like it because it wouldn't be warm anymore! I like the cold, mommy.” Yes, whenever she conversed with her biological mother, most of her sentences end with the word ‘mommy’, a growing habit of hers. Elizabeth held both of her hands in front of her, twisting her torso side to side, much like shyly dancing to music. There goes the girl again. Saying things a child wouldn't normally say. As a mother, she tried to understand her child, with that, she leaned down to brush the short, dark hair of the younger one, a fake smile on the mother’s face. “I see, dear. Well, why don't you try playing outside? In the garden? We'll invite some kids.” She suggested, wanting her daughter to accept and try to live a normal childhood. That's all she needed to be. Ordinary. She stayed silent for a few moments of thinking. The only thing on her mind was the thought of them calling her names again. Intelligent was the child, for she knew her mother wanted it. With that said, she nodded, which caused her mother to smile. “Okay, mommy! I'll go get some toys upstairs, mommy!” How constant was the word ‘mommy’ to her. And there I went. With little memory I have, I remember running up to my room to prepare myself. Had the maid give me a bath. I remembered the cold water, how I adored that. Afterwards, I put on my clothes with much energy. I loved pleasing my mother. It seemed that red and white were my clothes… I still remember it. The child went back downstairs, with her dolls handmade by none other than her mother, her toy animals, all stacked up on her little wooden wagon. Dragging it from behind with much enthusiasm. Anything to please her mother. She had now swiftly returned to where they last conversed, at the fireplace, waiting. There, she sat on the 200-year-old carpet passed down for generations. Old yet wonderfully preserved. She hummed and sang words not in the Noxian dictionary. “La la la. La la.” Placed on her hand was a cream-haired doll, making it move with her own fingers. “There you are.” The mother reached to her. “Let's go, Eli. The children are waiting for you.”. Eli or Ellie. A nickname made to shorten ‘Elizabeth’. She saw her placing the doll back on her wagon. Quickly her tiny feet balanced as she sprang up to take her mother’s hands, looking quite huge compared to hers. Her other hand held onto the wheeled box. They journeyed outside the door. Immediately, greeting her eyes were 8 more children already having their fun. She joined them, and said hello. There was a loud response from the joined voices of the other kids… mostly only because they were wretched little actors in front of her mother. Everything looked alright. With that, the mother took her leave, retreating back to her house to make pastries for the children. Now, left completely alone she attempted to play with them, taking one of her dolls to hand it to the Noxian children. Any of them, if they would accept. “Uhm… hello.” “Let's play hide and seek!” One of the children said. Elizabeth’s voice set aside by the louder, livelier one. “That's fun!” The second one proclaimed. “You'll be It!” The third one pointed to the second, which caused mild tantrums and laughter. Elizabeth stared at them, her pale skin made her feel as if she cannot join them, the feeling that she'll get laughed at for it. Grasping her wagon tight, she approached them. “H-Hello!” Shyly, she greeted, and waved her hand. The eight fellow young ones looked to her, but uttered not much… not even a wave back. Emotions, persona immediately swapped as the elder people left. “Alright let's start!” The silence was broken by the first child. “You go hide, everyone!” Everyone? That meant her as well! As soon as she heard one of the children counting, she panicked, jogging sillily as she looked for a hiding place. She found one, behind a tree that formed a hole underground that was fit just right for her. Elizabeth crawled in it in a hurry, forgetting what may lie inside it. She waited. She was excited, hoping she won't get caught. * * * It has been minutes. How long does the game usually take? Still, the child decided to wait. She was very good at this game! Yes… that was it. Embracing her legs close to her chest tightly. It was cold… which was nice. They'll find her soon enough. She can't be that good. In the midst of her waiting to get caught, she suddenly felt something crawl to her leg. Now that she noticed it, her clothes are muddy, as the hole had damp soil. Focusing back to the feeling on her leg, she saw something that made her gasp for the cold, cold air. It was a spider, and she slowly looked at it as it creeped up at her own skin. Unusually large, she did what a normal child would do, and that was to hold it with both hands with a giggle. Deciding to keep it, she forgot about the game, and she went outside, only to see that the children already played another kind of entertainment. Blinking for a few moments to take in the situation, she frowned as if the world had ended. Coming to a conclusion to leave, she carried the spider and skipped back to take her wagon. One of the eight children caught her with the insect, and she screamed. “What’s that!?” Elise heard her, and she turned to where the noise was made, eventually revealing the spider. “Ewwie! Kill it! Papa said that they’re dangerous!” Another kid mentioned. “Kill it, Elizabeth!” But she dare not harm the creature, and she chooses to ignore them, taking her wagon to leave. Yet, she was stopped in her tracks as three of the kids walled her way with their own bodies. The first child held some stones, the second held a bark from a nearby tree. They pushed poor little Elizabeth, causing her to tumble down and lose the spider from her hands. The children started chasing the spider, confident with their so called weapons, throwing stones at it. “Stop! You'll hurt it!” Elizabeth rose to her feet, desperately running to catch up. She tugged on their clothes, begging. But she was only pushed away. It caused her to become the shield for the spider instead, thus being hit seldom by the rocks. She felt pain, but her new friend was important. * * * “AAAHHH!” The children stopped at the horrific sounds of one of their friends. Elizabeth stopped to look as well. Another girl from the group of eight, bitten by the same insect Elizabeth tried to protect. Her mother came running from the house, accompanied by her maid. “What happened?” She asked in a worrying tone, hoping Eli wasn't hurt… or the one hurting others. Seeing the scene, she quickly demands what happened. “Elizabeth brought a spider! And she made it bite her!” The fifth of the lot pointed at Elizabeth, whom already fled from the scene, running to the house. The mother sighed, ordering the maid to call for the girl’s parents, carrying the bitten child with her to the living room. Elizabeth’s fault again. Look what she has done. “My friend would never forgive me for this.” She muttered to herself. One moment of peace and this daughter of hers had to ruin it. Consumed by anger, her footsteps became heavier as she went towards Elizabeth’s room. * * * Meanwhile, Elise found a crate to keep her new friend inside. “I'll protect you from them…” she nodded to herself. The door opened, which startled Elizabeth. “Elizabeth.” Her mother stormed in the room, and suddenly a harsh contact with the child’s arm was made. A slap, if you will. “Where is that blasted thing?” “Mommy it wasn't her fault! She was trying to prot–…” Her words were cut by a sudden yell. Elizabeth’s mother was not a patient woman. “Where is it?” She demanded, but before she waited for an answer, she already found the crate under her bed. Roughly seizing it from the floor, she opened it slightly to see the ugly arachnid. Opening it completely to let the thing out. As it slowly made its way out the box, she stepped on it with all her might. Not caring if Eli sees. It was dead. Just like that. A hint of fear in her eyes, but sadness as well. She wanted to tear up, but she fought back like the strong little girl that she was. Surprisingly able to control her feelings at such a young age. Her mother, being the infuriated lady that she was, left the room, leaving the child quaking in sheer fright. Elizabeth’s mother wasn't the best, but Elizabeth loved her still. * * * Ellie puffed her cheeks with air, suppressing those bad, bad tears. Mother told her not to cry. And she was trying. “I can't disappoint mommy!” More… than she already has. Her face already red from all that, and she crawled up to her bed to hide under its sheets. The strictness of her own mother made her lonely. Lately she refused to embrace her, nor smiled when she's around Eli. Is her mother upset with her? Questions normally asked would enter her mind. So much thoughts overwhelmed the little one, and she drifted to sleep. Little did I knew, that was the last time I would see my mother in a while. Soft, emerald eyes opened to take in the view. Disturbed clearly by the back and forth, rocking of a… carriage? Where was she? Springing up and sitting, she gazed out of the small window only to see nothing but sheer darkness in the streets. The dim light of the carrier was the only thing that shined along with a vast amount of stars. The moon half-present before her, dressed in clouds. Her face mildly reflected on the window’s mirror.

[retrobassgirl]

Water Under the Bridge

It’s early January 2017.

It’s over five months post Pride, post Manchester Pride. Pride here is a four day event in late summer. It may be feel like Midwinter now but I find the aftermath of Pride is a little like January. What appears as the highlight of the year here seems like the end of one Queer Year and the beginning of another. The firework display which marked the finale of Pride is like a noisy, glittering full stop. Thereafter all seems quiet but also restless. The Autumn and Winter has been for me a time for reflection and it set me thinking about the past year and even Pride itself.

Not far from where I now live in New Islington is a steep little bridge across the Rochdale Canal. It lies at the end of Henry Street. So much water has quite literally gone under that bridge this year and, metaphorically, in my life: Over 14 months ago I finally got married. It had been a long time coming. Transhistoried women normally dream of life changing events like that, seldom do they actually happen. Growing up with hatred and censure doesn’t exactly stop dreams of big white dresses and saying ‘I do’ to the man of your dreams. It does limit your chances though. That I found happiness and enjoyed a fairytale wedding seems a miracle; a win on the Transgender Lottery and a dream come true.

I’ve blogged so little since my big day and said almost nothing about the wedding itself. That needs to be a post on its own I think. All you need to know for now is that my marriage to Mart, my husband, was here in Manchester. It took place in the beautiful Britannia Hotel on Portland Street. My childhood dream had been to marry a Prince in a palace. Well, hopeless Teen Dream box ticked. The architecture of the Britannia Hotel is copied from a Venetian Palazzo, Il Fondaco di Turchi.

Getting married in Manchester where I first went to College was also a promise to myself and my husband that one day I would return to live there again. Like my wedding dreams, I seemed to have no hope of realising that promise. Working as a Teaching Assistant in North Wales, I did not earn enough to return; apartment rents can run at over £1,200 a month. City dwelling comes at a price; too high a price.

Opportunities are a much misunderstood concept. I barely understood them myself for so long. I had the impression that they required planning, strict control, a clear vision and single minded dedication. In my experience the truth is somewhat different. Opportunities aren’t created, neither do they respond well to control. They are fragile, ephemeral, slippery things that shape shift if you try to seize them too tightly. Opportunities can be surfed and ridden and in doing so, they lose nothing of their power. They are thermals to soar and climb with but they require courage and a leap of faith to follow.

Earlier this year I was in a crisis. Since January it had become clear that my job was making me ill. Mounting work, non-replacement of staff and an employer who seemed no longer to care lead me downhill mentally and physically. I found myself having more and more time off work. Education is also an intensely difficult profession for a transhistoried woman to work in. Transphobia abounds in spite of policies and directives to the contrary. Those who see Trans as a lifestyle choice capable of corrupting young people are very prevalent. Some colleagues made my life intensely miserable. I was tolerated, period. Tolerance is NOT acceptance, ever.

I chose a career in education because it seemed the only opportunity I would ever have to nurture and support children. They were my substitute family and I poured all my caring and compassion into what I did. When, against the odds, I got a family, motherhood and later, a husband, I still persisted in that career, doggedly adhering to a script I had written out years ago. I had promised myself that one day I would break free and work for myself. It was all about ‘UNTIL’, I would stick where I was till I had enough money, time, expertise and will to exploit a different opportunity. The only compensation was being busy. In a job I hated, it made me feel important even if undervalued.

A friend wrote: ‘Stop the glorification of busy’.

Like so many things we value it is only when you relinquish ‘busy’ that you start living. Busy has little time for others, for compassion, art or pleasure. Fitting too much into too small a space isn’t clever. Beautiful things get squashed in the process. It occurred to me that it was time to chuck the 98% of useless, busy activity and do the good stuff well. Busy people are not good at surfing opportunities. I needed a way to let go, launch myself and fly.

In April this year, events forced me into action. A number of things happened in rapid succession. A workplace that should have supported me, chose instead to support malicious, transphobically motivated complaints. Apparently intelligent, right minded and respected individuals can sometimes have huge blindspots when it comes to gender variance. It is made worse when they employ you. Sometimes you stand and fight. In the past I have done that. In the present case, when I looked around at what I had, it occurred to me that there was little of value to fight for. It seemed better to walk away with dignity. In the end it was so easy to do.

I spoke of a number of things. Walking away from my job gave me courage to revive an old idea; the one of launching my own business. So many play with that idea but never try it. I too had turned it over for many years yet ‘busy’ and lack of courage had got in the way. I have a background in catering and waitressing which has languished unused too long. A trained barista, I am passionate about good coffee. I had wanted my own Coffee Shop in Manchester but there seemed way too many of them. In any case the rents and set up costs seemed beyond my means.

Cue the Empress; a tarot card with deep relevance to me and Giovanna my new Italian friend. Both however will have to wait until my next blog.

Huggs, Jane xx