#when she was gensen....

[pinkaditty]

ok i got bored and mentally obsessed with sengen so everyone welcome my first fanfiction in years:

in which Senku feels nostalgic for the first time in years and love makes him do a silly mindless thing

this is not proofread + no real warnings methinks, besides Dr Stone S3 spoilers and some hcs for the future cast. your only content warning is some Sengen or Gensen (Senku x Gen), but can be interpreted in either platonic or romantic love.

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It’s late out. Very late. Might even be 2am. Senku is too lazy to check his watch, though. 

He wanders the streets of the rebuilt Minato City, partially headed in the direction of his home, partially willing to let any distraction lead him a different way. It had been a long day of continuing his many various research projects with Chrome, who’d left earlier. He’s got a pregnant wife after all, can’t spend all his hours at the lab with Senku. He’d asked Senku if he’d like to join them for dinner, as Ruri would likely be happy to see him. He declined however, his mind elsewhere. 

He was sure Chrome had only invited him because of how out of it he had seemed today. 

Senku tilted his head upwards, gazing at the endless starry expanse, somewhat blocked by tall, concrete towers and drowned out by glowing fluorescent light. It was done. It had been done for some time. Humanity was restored, there was no more work to do, and it had been five long years since the end of it all. Senku didn’t like to admit it, but at the end, he’d felt satisfied, but the impending threat of uncertainty had loomed behind him for long enough, and he had to accept it at this point. He’d love to admit that he had not a millimeter of interest in processing his own feelings, preferring to distract himself with science, but today, even science hadn’t done the job. He sighed and kicked a stray pebble, frustrated at his own feelings. Who could he even talk to about this, if he even wanted to?

Taiju would be understanding, but he also wouldn’t quite get it. The big oaf had other responsibilities now, and Senku wouldn’t care to pester him with something as trivial as this. Kohaku was an option, but she had better things to do, being the owner of her own dojo and all. Besides, she was simply glad to see the former glory she’d been born outside of. She wouldn’t understand the loss Senku felt. Tsukasa might, but he had his little sister to care for. He considered Tsukasa a close friend all the same, and he might even get where Senku’s coming from, but Tsukasa missed out on quite a bit of the excitement. Maybe he wasn’t the best idea, after all. Chrome was an option, too, but he was probably sleeping by now. He couldn’t bring himself to contact him, not when all his sleep would be taken up by a screaming infant in less than three months. 

Senku sighed again, running a hand through his hair. Thinking about this was pointless. Feeling this way was pointless. It would ultimately get him nowhere, because there was nothing to be done about it. If anything, he should be pleased. Humanity saved, Whyman defeated, society back to how it was before. People living out their lives, time passing by in the blink of an eye, everything wrong and right with the world back into place. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Yes, this was what he wanted. But if this was what he wanted, why was there this emptiness present in his chest? What was missing?

He felt sick, nausea rumbling through his body all at once. He gritted his teeth and kept walking, swallowing the feeling away. He didn’t have time for this. 

He started walking faster, with more purpose. He was going to head straight home and go straight to bed, disregard any of his feelings and just sleep them off. Surely he’d be fine come morning, and everything would be normal again. Science would do just the trick to distract him, he’d do his work with a bounce in his step, and he’d smile without feeling the need to purposely crinkle his eyes to make it look real. 

His steps became smaller and hurried, his eyebrows began to knit together in a frown, and his fingers curled into fists. Feeling this way was ridiculous. Yet, no matter how many times he thought that, the feeling refused to go away. It stayed, no matter how tightly he dug his nails into his palms, no matter how roughly he bit his lip, no matter how quickly he drove his legs to walk him home. All at once, his body seems to release, and he exhales, suddenly stopping his pace. He looks down at the ground, examining the red marks in his palms from his nails. He sighs yet again, slowly getting sick of all this sighing, and continues on his way, relaxed pace reclaimed. Anger and frustration was no way to go about this. Remaining calm was his best bet. 

He walks near a TV advertisement screen embedded into the wall near a shopping plaza. He spots something familiar on the cover. It’s the picture Minami took of him in the stone age, several years ago. His tongue was out, in the classic pose Albert Eistein took. Next to the image were big words that read: “Come to Ishigami Museum, and get to see the first picture taken since the rebirth of the stone age, and the camera it was taken with!”. His mind took him back to that moment, where they had him pose in various clothes and stances, before they finally settled on an appropriate one, and he simply stuck his tongue out. He exhaled, a light chuckle following it. A smile grew on his face, and his eyes softened. Perhaps feeling this way wasn’t so bad if it made the nostalgia this sweet. 

The screen changes, showing a new advertisement. This one was for Ryuusui’s three-star Michelin restaurant, led by Francois. The advertisement read: “Feeling Greedy? Stop by Ryuusui’s Greed, three-star Michelin restaurant to fulfill all your desires!”. Senku couldn’t repress a smirk this time, reminiscing on the most greedy man in the world, and how he helped rebuild humanity. He’d been incredibly useful in navigating the seas and the skies, and his greed only further spurred him on to completion of the rebuild of society. Francois was also incredibly useful. Nobody quite made bread like them, or any foods like them for that matter. Their dedication to hospitality and feeding greed made them just as useful an asset. Senku let the smirk slowly reduce to a soft smile, ignoring the feeling of his heart swelling. Nostalgia was sweet, but if he kept thinking, he’d keep remembering.

Again the screen changes, flicking to another advertisement. It was a ramen advertisement, with Ganen, one of the previous Ishigami villagers, enjoying a large bowl of ramen with a pleased smile on his face. The advertisement read: “NEW Special Spicy Ganen’s Favorite Ramen! Available at most grocery stores!”. This took him back, too, to when he’d made ramen for the villagers for the first time. In his mouth, it was crumbly and bland, but to them, it was like ambrosia. A faint smile arrives on his face as he remembers the expressions and awe of the villagers at the mystery food, amazed that a single man could complete such a feat. Really, it had been nothing at the time, but it was still pleasing to know that the villagers would no longer have to feast on nothing but fish. This nostalgia was oddly sweet too, but he felt a pang in his chest when the ramen reminded him of his first meeting with a… particular character. 

As though reading his mind, the screen changes, the next advertisement a beautiful glaring red, and sporting the visage of said particular character, happily smiling and holding a cola. He’d recognize this person anywhere, even from miles away; the split dye, the lavender coat, the twisted smile, and the curved stone scar. Asagiri Gen. His “dear” mentalist. All at once, fondness and regret seem to swallow him whole. His heart swelled and at the same time, his stomach sank. A wide smile spread on his face before he could stop it, and at the same time, his eyes burned with liquid emotion. Of course. Of course, he’d be on a Cola ad. He swallows thickly, gazing at the advertisement, blinking his emotion away. Five years. It’d been five long years. He’d done everything to bite his tongue and forget about losing contact with some people, letting the regret turn into fuel to keep him pressing on through his experiments. Love was ten billion percent pointless, and he’d had not a millimeter of interest in it… It only brought mindless decisions, after all. And yet… Senku still experienced love all the same, like when he’d babysit Suika for Kohaku, and when he’d visit Taiju and Yuzuriha for nothing more than saying hello, and when he’d have long reminiscent talks with Tsukasa, further rambling about science to him as Mirai watched with rapt attention. He’d lost contact with a few people, but somehow, the most painful by far was Asagiri Gen, no matter how little he liked to admit that. He’d had a TV show to run and fame to fuel, so his schedule was always taken up by work. And Senku had to throw himself into new science projects in efforts to fill the empty void that loomed once humanity had been rebuilt. They went their separate ways, and now he’s here. Standing in front of an ad screen, staring longingly at the figure within, trying to pinpoint the reason his heart swells with pride and affection and why his stomach drops with regret.

He knew from the moment Gen had mentioned cola that, one day, Senku would have to make some just for him. It was partially obvious, but something in his mind clicked. He just knew. Cola had to be the next step. He knew, when Gen came to him excitedly about the fizzy water, he was expecting Cola. And he couldn’t help but tease him just a little bit, showing how it’d be used for baking soda instead. He’d long since had the cola prepared, just for him, and made sure to put it somewhere where he’d obviously see it. He smiled fondly at the memory, partially wishing he’d seen Gen’s expression when he saw the Cola. Then, he’s reminded of the gift Gen got him in return. An observatory and telescope, just for him. Above and beyond, that guy. 

Senku remembers how Gen was with him almost every step of the way, even staying when things went south. “Most shallow man” my ass. The trust he put in Senku was enormous, and Senku had an equally large amount of trust in Gen. Perhaps more than just trust. Far, far more than simple trust.

Love leads to mindless decisions.

Perhaps this is why he comes to the conclusion that, if anyone is awake and available to talk to him and would fully, completely understand where he’s coming from, it’d be Asagiri Gen. Perhaps this is why he searches in his phone for Gen’s old number, hoping against all hope that he’d pick up the call. Perhaps this is why his hands shake as he presses the call button. Perhaps this is why his palms sweat as he holds the phone in his hand, listening to it ring. Perhaps this is why his heart thuds in his chest, echoing in his ears, louder than the ringing of the phone. Perhaps this is why his heart stops when the ringing stops and a familiar voice speaks in a shaky, yet giddy voice. 

“S-Senku-chan!?” He can hear the shock in the other man’s voice, and is overwhelmed with emotion. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He clenches his hand in a fist, staring directly at Gen’s face on the advertisement.

When he responds, he surprises himself at how soft and affectionate his own voice sounds. A tear rolls down his cheek.

“Hey, Gen.”

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

if i end up liking this enough ill post on ao3 for the first time in ten thousand years. special thanks to OP for inspiring me with such beautiful art!!!!!!!!!

of course he'd be on a New Cola ad ❤️

[msu82]

The Artist and the Mechanic

Tagging: @markwatnae and @prfury I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING!

Guess whose OC is meeting Anakin, you two? *throws glitter*

I can't believe the Council is having me teach a class of padawans! Anakin paused in the middle of his fuming, eyes wide as he blinked a few times. ...I can't believe the Council is trusting me to teach a class of padawans. Trust. Huh. well, now that young man couldn't decide if the reason they were filling up one of his days with teaching a mechanics course was because, a, they wanted to punish him for some unknown reason or, b, they were showing respect to his positions as a Jedi Knight, an army general, and as a teacher to his own individual padawan.

...I can't believe they're making me over think this! He released a grown before flopping down in a chair in a little nook of a room connected off of the flight hanger, rubbing a hand down his face as he awaited what was going to be his second class of a total of four throughout the day. The first class had been absolutely horrible! No one could blame him for his hesitance and annoyance at having to endure another three. A bunch of snot-nosed teenagers who think that 'I am only a year away from being a legal adult in the galaxy!' means they know more than someone whose been alive longer and seen more in life than they ever have yet. ….Anakin knew it probably game as some sort of territory-pecking considering her was barely half a decade older than that class of students, but he was still a Jedi Knigth and a General in the war. Didn't that earn him any respect?!

The blonde stopped abruptly in his angered pacing, closed his eyes while his arms cross over his chest, and bowed his head. Breathe, Ani. Just breathe. This next class is around Ahsoka's age—he totally didn't sulk over the fact he wasn't be allowed to teach classes his padawan was actively in, and instead the age groups directly above and bellow her age—so that should mean they'll, in the least, be decent kids. Doesn't it? He didn't have much time to fret over his thoughts, for before he knew it a group of thirteen year olds were entering into what had become his little domane for the entirety of the day.

Now usually when this particular Jedi has doubtful thoughts like that, they come to bite him in the ass.

For once, they seemed not to.

He actually had a group of kids who seemed eager to learn mechanics! From him specifically! Oh, he'd have to tell Padme about this—she had teased mericlessly that he'd probably want to cry by the end of the day from the children driving him insane or not paying attention to him at all. I knew kids love me! The blonde thought, a bit giddy.

Knight Skywalker went about officially introducing himself (“Just call me Anakin or Skywalker, I'm not all for the title business”) with a grin on his face to his newest class of students, and after that began demonstrating and explaining that day's lesson.

These kids hated him.

They despised him.

They must have litereally wanted him to die in agony and horror and–

SPLAT-TA-TA-TAAA-PLOOP-PLOOP-PLOOP!

“Sith-spit!” A youthful, perhaps male voice cursed from across the room. “Language....” Anakin mumble out from his temporary desk, face-down in the sweet sanctuary of his arms as another sound of a failed machine met his ears. He had heard the same splatter-plopping sound a dozen times already. The last one to do it marked the thirteen. There was still another nine others in the-

SPLAT-TA-PLOOP-PLOOP-TA-TAAA-PLOOP!

There as still another eight students with machines in the class.

Padme is never gonna let me live this down. He wasn't whining. He was not whining. Anakin Skywalker did not whine; not even in in the depths of his brain!

SPLAT-TA-TA-TA-TAAAAA-PLOOP-PLOOP-PLOOP-PLOOP!

Anakin groaned in the safe haven that was his pillowing arms. Why me? The young adult whined in his brain. It was taking all he had not to pull out his hair.

Honestly, how could now fifteen out of twenty-two Junior Padawan's in war time not understand the most basic set of instructions? Couldn't fix a simple machine? The entire machine was there for each of them at their desks!

All they had to do was re-attach two parts.

He had provided a hands-on demonstration, text directions, and photo directions. He had explained that it was a delicate little system and, as long as they had steady hands and took their time, they'd be fine! He just couldn't understand why they weren't understanding it.

SPLAT-TALOOP-PLOOP-PLOOSTA-TATA-SPLAT!

He groaned into his arms again, fingers of his non-mechanical hand tugging at his hair. “Someone. Jam. A lightsaber. Into. My brain.”

“I don't think that would be healthy. And, you know.... It would kinda be murder.”

A voice piping up was not expected, especially in such a sassy little way, and Anakin nearly startled out of his chair as he came face-to-face with a rather short being. The female padawan, who looked younger than the rest of her peers, seemed to smile in an apologetic way.

“I'm sorry to startle you, Mister Skywalker—” Huh, never been called 'Mister' before, Anakin thought to himself— “But I finished my machine. I just wanted your opinion on it before I started it up.” The girl finished.

“Why do you want me to do that? None of your agemates had me do that.” The Jedi Knight prodded, curious as he sat up straighter in his seat.

The girl was silent while looking contemplative, and Anakin was expecting some sort of long, droned out, logical answer.

“Because I'm pale as all hell and don't want to be oil-stained for weeks.”

“Psh-!” He snapped a hand over his mouth to muffle of a snicker. He hadn't been expecting that. The young adult cleared his throat, composing himself as he said as he replied, “Language, little one, and I will come look at your machine. Lead the way...?”

It took moments to get to the table and start examining the device the young padawan had been charged with fixing, the same as her classmates, but... even with another sound of exploding oil filtering to his ears as background noise, his focus was on the work to this particular device. One that look near exactly like his if it wasn't for the few tiny, oily fingerprints littering the pieces that had needed reattaching.

Finally. The young adult thought to himself, and gave the short brunette a beaming smile. “Padawans, gather around! It's time to show you what this device does. I believe your classmate here—”

“Gensen.” The girl supplied helpfully.

“—that your classmate, Gensen, has successfully repaired her machine.”

A few moments later there was a chorus of nearly two-dozen awes as, after he brought out a canvas he'd stashed behind his temporary desk and flipped the switch for the machine, that it would begin spraying a picture into existence. The awes turned to laughter and amusement as the picture created was that of Grandmaster Yoda piggy-backing on Master Windu.

It wasn't long after that when it would be the time for the padawans to head off to their lunch period (each with their own copy of the painted oil-pictures after using the Force for some hand speed drying),  but as they left the young knighted-general  couldn't help but stop the girl who had actually done the entire thing right.

“So your name is Gensen, yeah? You mind me asking how you knew asking me first was the answer?” Anakin asked, and after a moment added appreciatively, “Not that you needed it in the end, technically speaking. The picture could have gotten sprayed on the table.”

“Well,” The girl paused, hitching her backpack over her shoulders. “You didn't tell us what the machine  would do beyond that it sprays oil. And I wanted to make sure I had every piece exactly right, and there's no better way in assuring that than asking the teacher.” The girl shrugged her shoulders on her pudgy frame, hugging her souvenir of this class against her chest.

Anakin nodded with her words, “Good reasoning, little padawan. You're quite the mechanic.”

“...Eh.”

That made him arch an eyebrow. “Eh?” He parroted, disbelief and bemusement starting to spring to his face.

“Yeah, eh. I'm not a mechanic. I'm an artist.”

“Oh, really now?” He crossed his mixture of flesh-and-mechanical arms. “And what's so great about being an artist?”

The girl cocked a hip, raising an eyebrow of her own. “What's so great about being a mechanic, Mister Skywalker?”

“Creating things, making things work one way or another, and the mess of it all.” He replied without missing a beat.

Gensen grinned before saying, “Same with art. The only difference is I don't have to worry about something exploding in my face if I mess up and need to fix something—I'm not all for chemical burns and sparks and flames.” She held out her arm, rolling up her robe sleeves. “I did say I was pale as all hell, Mister Skywalker. Patches of red wouldn't look any better on me than patches of black.”

This time he couldn't stop the startled laughter even if he tried, sharing a grin with the spunky little padawan before giving her shoulder a nudge. “Go on to lunch, young one. I have to prepare for another class. And watch that language of yours, alright?.”

“Uh huh. Of course I will!” Anakin didn't believe her words for a second. She just seemed endless sass even if her personality was so genuine.

Soon enough the blonde was by himself, cleaning up for the next class as his mind wandered to who could be Gensen's Master if she managed to have such a personality as that at her age. He knew not all were strict, but he also knew that most schooled their padawans into perfect properness outside of private situations.

He was pulled from his wandering thoughts (and temptation to look up the girl's personal record out of sheer curiosity) by his commlink beeping. Pulling it out of his pocket and answering it, he grinned as his former teacher's voice filled in from the other end.

Obi-Wan would be back in just a week, and the day after that was hoping Anakin would be free to finally meet the ginger's new padawan.

Anakin grinned, having heard so much about the kid. He immediately agreed, said he'd bring Ahsoka along, and wished his former-Master well on the rest of his journey home.

When Anakin Skywalker met his sister-padawan a little over the week—an 11-year old girl with brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and a form that wasn't bone skinny—the Knight felt a sense of deja vu. He had been run busy all week training students in general education classes, so his mind was a bit scattered.

He could have sworn he'd seen her before, and shrugged it off as it being in passing before smiling and shaking the girl's hand. “Welcome to the lineage, Edie.” The blonde said, and then shared a grin with his Obi-Wan Kenobi as Ahsoka swept in with making the younger girl feel welcomed.

While happiness happened for the Jedi adults and the padawan-children, none were aware that the very same night another innocent, bright young padawan would face the extreme opposite of the word 'joy.'

[josephmxa]

Worldbuilding: Andromeda Part II

1987

Businessman and Vigilante Richard Henry is born on May 19th in Arkham City, Illinois, to Alfred Godfrey and Selena Henry--sister of UK Businessman Brentford Henry of Henrick Enterprises. Donald Dyne is born on July 1st in Arkham City to Maximum Dyne and Annaliese Pride--daughter of Evangeline Pride, granddaughter to Nathaniel Pride, aka Pride, the New God of Earth.

1988

Businesswoman Marissa Constanza Sue is born on May 31st in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic to Sebastian Sue and Camilla Alvarez.

1989

In mortal years, Theodoras and Teresa Titan are born to Greek deity Zeus of Olympus and Amazonian Queen Arina--and the day of Medusa’s death.

1992

Sebastian Sue and Camilla Alvarez relocate to Nightingham, California, United Provinces from Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic with their four-year-old daughter Marissa Sue to license and run their business dream, Metallic Incorporated, all the ripe age of 30.

1993

Monica Light manages the newly established Light Corp in Metro City while Lex (41) takes his son, Lucius Light (8), up north to Kingdom Cove where he plans to negotiate on a set of terms to establish a power plant in replacement of the old. Lex has been in talks with KC’s government in expectancy to brand his company nationwide. A simple four month stay. Around the second month, however, Lucius takes notice of the strange atmosphere and confides in his father about his fears. Lex reassures him everything’s fine but at the back of his mind, he holds suspicion. By the near end of their stay, Lex comes to a conspiracy dating back to the public announcement of the super soldier program and the Cold Blood war. But as nothing confirms this, he relegates it to the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, delinquents Bradley Gensen and Matthias Trippy are born in Arkham City, Illinois and Riverside, British Columbia respectively, to Tyrone and Monae Gensen and Sariah and Abraham Trippy--June 1st and June 10th.

1995

Arkham City experiences it’s worst tragedy as the Connelly Family commits manslaughter taking the lives of 1,986 individuals, including that of Alfred and Selena Henry, parents to Richard Henry--October 3rd, a date that’s never forgotten.

2002

Lex (50) and his Light Corp company now service almost the entire nation alongside Metallic Inc., Brimstone Marketing and bunch others such as the Royal Bank of the United Provinces.

2009-2010

Brentford Henry, CEO of Henrick Enterprises, licenses his company in North America, starting with the United Provinces. He plans to build North America’s headquarters in Arkham City as where his nephew resides--Richard Henry--in hopes he takes the mantle of managing that western branch. In 2010, Brentford’s plan are approved by the board and development begins. However, it’s also the year of Alexander Light’s death, due to a heart attack.

Late 2010, Camilla Sue of Metallic Inc. offers her daughter, Marissa Sue, the position of CEO following the death of her husband Sebastian Sue in 2009.

2011

Lucius Light, now CEO of Light Corp, licenses a subsidiary he plans to call Vanity Stone. Meanwhile, Richard and Don, who’ve had meetings with Brentford Henry about Henrick Enterprises’ western branch, have now begun the hiring process as CEO’s. Top notch mechanic, Ashley King, is hired as the boss of Henrick Auto, a division of Henrick Enterprises, who in turn hired Teresa Titan when she came to the mortal realm against her father’s wishes midyear.

2012

Vanity Stone is due by winter with construction having started since fall last year. Meanwhile, Lucius holds a meeting with other CEO’s, the press and media, and selective VIPs to declare his game plan for the country and hopefully soon, the world, in light of everything he’s witnessed in the past decade or so.

Pretty vague at the moment, but I don’t really want to spill too much. This just gives a basic outline of the major events in history of the United Provinces and how the world has become affected by it--and how it affects the people individually. And like with anything, any and all things mentioned are subject to change, but I’ve mostly need to just adjust and tweak a few things so I don’t run into plot holes, or rather gaping plot holes when I return to actual writing in this series.

Tags: @merigreenleaf

[gillespialfredoe01806ld]

Seeds of a New Community: Farm Living Takes Root in the Suburbs

iStock; realtor.com

Eliza Bacot wasn’t at all planning on leaving behind the hectic city life in Atlanta for life on a farm. But when she learned she could do so without leaving the confines of the nearby suburbs, she found herself falling in love with the idea.

The part-time nurse practitioner first visited Serenbe, a housing development built around a working farm, just an hour outside the city, to write a story for her healthy living blog—and maybe provide a fun day outdoors with her husband and young son. But it didn’t take long for them to fall under the spell of the place.

There were neighbors drinking wine and nibbling hors d’oeuvres as their children ran around on the blocked-off street lined with single-family houses; there were miles of hiking and biking trails. And most seductive of all was the farm: 10 acres of fruit trees and vegetable gardens complete with chickens and even bees for fresh honey.

When they ran into a real estate agent as they walked into one of Serenbe’s farm-to-table restaurants, it felt like fate.

“We were going to raise our kids in the city,” Bacot, 37, says. But that evening she told her husband, “I know this sounds crazy … but I think we’re supposed to be here. This is where we’re supposed to raise our family.”

In today’s modern, fast-paced world, the Bacots aren’t the only ones seeking the perks of a more bucolic lifestyle without sacrificing the convenience of the burbs or the advantages of being near a larger city. It’s led to the rise of an emerging type of suburban community, centered around farms, dubbed “agrihoods.” Specific numbers are tough to come by, but more have been cropping up in recent years from coast to coast.

“People are interested in living with like-minded people who are interested in knowing where their food comes from,”says Bill Mains, director of sustainability and leadership at the Leavey School of Business at Santa Clara University in Silicon Valley. “This provides a way for people to connect to nature without having to pull up roots and buy a farm.”

The agrihood of Serenbe offers residents access to its working organic farm.

Serenbe

Why folks are flocking back to the farm

Suburban agrihoods began sprouting across the U.S. in the 1990s as an alternative to golf-centered communities.

“What we learned over time was the majority of buyers in golf course developments did not play golf,” says Ed McMahon, senior resident fellow at the Urban Land Institute. As it turned out, buyers were mostly just willing to pay more just to live near open space.

Putting in a farm was a way for builders to offer lower-cost green space while differentiating their communities. For homeowners like the Bacots, it offers tranquility, community—and lots and lots of fresh organic food. The family happily traded in their three-bed, three-bath townhouse in Decatur, GA (just a few miles outside downtown Atlanta) for a $465,000 four-bed, 3.5-bath house in Serenbe.

The 1,400-acre community will have 1,400 condos, townhouses, and detached, single-family houses when it’s completely built out. Founded in 2005, it has three on-site restaurants, boutiques, and art galleries. Homes back right up to the fields of the farm, which grow more than 350 varieties of fruits and vegetables.

“It’s been life-changing for us,” says Bacot, who has since had a daughter. “The idea that you could live in a neighborhood where food is locally grown and have access to that food without pesticides … is incredible.”

Farm-centered communities don’t always come cheap Many people want the open space and farm-fresh foods in agrihoods.

Molly M. Peterson

But the combination of a bucolic agrarian lifestyle with the amenities of a planned community can come at a steep price. The cheapest homes in Serenbe are one-bed, one-bath shotgun houses of roughly 900 square feet that start at $359,000. And a nearly 4,000-square-foot stunner with four beds and four baths can run up to $1,250,000.

Meanwhile, the median home list price in Chattahoochee Hills, GA, where the community is located, is $249,000, according to realtor.com® data.

At Willowsford Virginia, a 4,000-acre agrihood about 45 minutes outside of Washington, DC, single-family homes start at $599,000 and go up past $1.3 million. However, the median home price is much lower ($463,300) in the DC metro area.

Children can volunteer to work on the farm at Willowsford Virginia.

Bushnell Photography

Life on the farm: An education on your table, and in the fields

Most agrihoods offer farm stands and community-supported agriculture programs in which residents pay upfront for weekly shares of produce, and in some cases eggs, milk, and meat.

The nearly 300-acre farm at Willowsford yields about 100 different kinds of produce, including zucchini, corn, strawberries, and cantaloupe. The farm also has chickens, turkeys, pigs, and goats. The goats clear the land used for open space by eating the brush and poison ivy.

“Pretty much anything you can think of that you get at the market, we grow it,” says Michael Snow, Willowsford’s director of farm operations. Those who live in Willowsford can volunteer on the farm, and kids can get a hands-on education in where their food comes from.

Health coach Kim McColl has been amazed by what living in Willowsford has done for her 6-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter. She and her husband, Sean, moved from Arlington, VA, into their six-bedroom, 4.5-bath house in Willowsford nearly three years ago.

They were also drawn to the social environmentalism, and wanted their children to have better access to the organic produce.

“It’s funny to see them harvesting asparagus and seeing where that comes from,” she says.

And residents are often very curious about what’s happening on their community’s farm.

“When I’m working on the farm, neighbors and community members stop and they chat and they ask questions about it,” says Anne Gensen, who runs the farm at the Bucking Horse agrihood in Fort Collins, CO, about 30 minutes from Denver. It will have about 1,000 single-family homes, townhouses, and apartments on 240 acres when it’s finished.

“For the older folks, it’s a connection to the past. For the younger kids, it’s an education.”

The Michigan Urban Farming Initiative has been credited with helping to revitalize a Detroit neighborhood.

Jeffrey Sauger

How an agrihood is helping revitalize a Detroit neighborhood

Although agrihoods are usually found well outside the urban jungle, one unlikely example is right in the middle of one of America’s most troubled cities. The Michigan Urban Farming Initiative, a 3-acre farm, has helped to revitalize a struggling neighborhood in Detroit’s Lower North End. The volunteer-staffed farm, on the empty site of an apartment complex that burned down long ago and was never replaced, is surrounded by mostly older, single-family rental homes. Skyscrapers are just a few blocks away.

When Tyler Gersh founded the initiative, many of those older homes were vacant.

“It started as a simple initiative to increase access to healthy food options for residents,” Gersh says of the 20,000 pounds of produce that are given away free to community members each year. It’s supported by corporate sponsorships, and there are plans for a for-profit, farm-to-table cafe to open next year.

But soon after he got the farm up and running, something unexpected happened.

“People were buying homes [in the neighborhood] because we were here,” he says. “We’ve seen property values increase very fast, and a lot of that is driven by our farm.”

His group began buying the surrounding homes, rehabbing them and then selling them to locals at cost, with interest-free loans. (The farm’s involvement with the local housing market is what makes it an agrihood.)

Today, the neighborhood is a mix of seniors, millennial professionals—and boarded-up abodes.

“We’re redefining what life in the urban environment looks like, and that involves some sort of integrated agriculture,” says Gersh, who lives a block away from the farm. “People love to be around plants, growing food.”

Jonathan Reese volunteers at the Michigan Urban Farming Initiative.

Jeffrey Sauger

The post Seeds of a New Community: Farm Living Takes Root in the Suburbs appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2vlRXmF

[realestateagent532]

Seeds of a New Community: Farm Living Takes Root in the Suburbs

iStock; realtor.com

Eliza Bacot wasn’t at all planning on leaving behind the hectic city life in Atlanta for life on a farm. But when she learned she could do so without leaving the confines of the nearby suburbs, she found herself falling in love with the idea.

The part-time nurse practitioner first visited Serenbe, a housing development built around a working farm, just an hour outside the city, to write a story for her healthy living blog—and maybe provide a fun day outdoors with her husband and young son. But it didn’t take long for them to fall under the spell of the place.

There were neighbors drinking wine and nibbling hors d’oeuvres as their children ran around on the blocked-off street lined with single-family houses; there were miles of hiking and biking trails. And most seductive of all was the farm: 10 acres of fruit trees and vegetable gardens complete with chickens and even bees for fresh honey.

When they ran into a real estate agent as they walked into one of Serenbe’s farm-to-table restaurants, it felt like fate.

“We were going to raise our kids in the city,” Bacot, 37, says. But that evening she told her husband, “I know this sounds crazy … but I think we’re supposed to be here. This is where we’re supposed to raise our family.”

In today’s modern, fast-paced world, the Bacots aren’t the only ones seeking the perks of a more bucolic lifestyle without sacrificing the convenience of the burbs or the advantages of being near a larger city. It’s led to the rise of an emerging type of suburban community, centered around farms, dubbed “agrihoods.” Specific numbers are tough to come by, but more have been cropping up in recent years from coast to coast.

“People are interested in living with like-minded people who are interested in knowing where their food comes from,”says Bill Mains, director of sustainability and leadership at the Leavey School of Business at Santa Clara University in Silicon Valley. “This provides a way for people to connect to nature without having to pull up roots and buy a farm.”

The agrihood of Serenbe offers residents access to its working organic farm.

Serenbe

Why folks are flocking back to the farm

Suburban agrihoods began sprouting across the U.S. in the 1990s as an alternative to golf-centered communities.

“What we learned over time was the majority of buyers in golf course developments did not play golf,” says Ed McMahon, senior resident fellow at the Urban Land Institute. As it turned out, buyers were mostly just willing to pay more just to live near open space.

Putting in a farm was a way for builders to offer lower-cost green space while differentiating their communities. For homeowners like the Bacots, it offers tranquility, community—and lots and lots of fresh organic food. The family happily traded in their three-bed, three-bath townhouse in Decatur, GA (just a few miles outside downtown Atlanta) for a $465,000 four-bed, 3.5-bath house in Serenbe.

The 1,400-acre community will have 1,400 condos, townhouses, and detached, single-family houses when it’s completely built out. Founded in 2005, it has three on-site restaurants, boutiques, and art galleries. Homes back right up to the fields of the farm, which grow more than 350 varieties of fruits and vegetables.

“It’s been life-changing for us,” says Bacot, who has since had a daughter. “The idea that you could live in a neighborhood where food is locally grown and have access to that food without pesticides … is incredible.”

Farm-centered communities don’t always come cheap Many people want the open space and farm-fresh foods in agrihoods.

Molly M. Peterson

But the combination of a bucolic agrarian lifestyle with the amenities of a planned community can come at a steep price. The cheapest homes in Serenbe are one-bed, one-bath shotgun houses of roughly 900 square feet that start at $359,000. And a nearly 4,000-square-foot stunner with four beds and four baths can run up to $1,250,000.

Meanwhile, the median home list price in Chattahoochee Hills, GA, where the community is located, is $249,000, according to realtor.com® data.

At Willowsford Virginia, a 4,000-acre agrihood about 45 minutes outside of Washington, DC, single-family homes start at $599,000 and go up past $1.3 million. However, the median home price is much lower ($463,300) in the DC metro area.

Children can volunteer to work on the farm at Willowsford Virginia.

Bushnell Photography

Life on the farm: An education on your table, and in the fields

Most agrihoods offer farm stands and community-supported agriculture programs in which residents pay upfront for weekly shares of produce, and in some cases eggs, milk, and meat.

The nearly 300-acre farm at Willowsford yields about 100 different kinds of produce, including zucchini, corn, strawberries, and cantaloupe. The farm also has chickens, turkeys, pigs, and goats. The goats clear the land used for open space by eating the brush and poison ivy.

“Pretty much anything you can think of that you get at the market, we grow it,” says Michael Snow, Willowsford’s director of farm operations. Those who live in Willowsford can volunteer on the farm, and kids can get a hands-on education in where their food comes from.

Health coach Kim McColl has been amazed by what living in Willowsford has done for her 6-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter. She and her husband, Sean, moved from Arlington, VA, into their six-bedroom, 4.5-bath house in Willowsford nearly three years ago.

They were also drawn to the social environmentalism, and wanted their children to have better access to the organic produce.

“It’s funny to see them harvesting asparagus and seeing where that comes from,” she says.

And residents are often very curious about what’s happening on their community’s farm.

“When I’m working on the farm, neighbors and community members stop and they chat and they ask questions about it,” says Anne Gensen, who runs the farm at the Bucking Horse agrihood in Fort Collins, CO, about 30 minutes from Denver. It will have about 1,000 single-family homes, townhouses, and apartments on 240 acres when it’s finished.

“For the older folks, it’s a connection to the past. For the younger kids, it’s an education.”

The Michigan Urban Farming Initiative has been credited with helping to revitalize a Detroit neighborhood.

Jeffrey Sauger

How an agrihood is helping revitalize a Detroit neighborhood

Although agrihoods are usually found well outside the urban jungle, one unlikely example is right in the middle of one of America’s most troubled cities. The Michigan Urban Farming Initiative, a 3-acre farm, has helped to revitalize a struggling neighborhood in Detroit’s Lower North End. The volunteer-staffed farm, on the empty site of an apartment complex that burned down long ago and was never replaced, is surrounded by mostly older, single-family rental homes. Skyscrapers are just a few blocks away.

When Tyler Gersh founded the initiative, many of those older homes were vacant.

“It started as a simple initiative to increase access to healthy food options for residents,” Gersh says of the 20,000 pounds of produce that are given away free to community members each year. It’s supported by corporate sponsorships, and there are plans for a for-profit, farm-to-table cafe to open next year.

But soon after he got the farm up and running, something unexpected happened.

“People were buying homes [in the neighborhood] because we were here,” he says. “We’ve seen property values increase very fast, and a lot of that is driven by our farm.”

His group began buying the surrounding homes, rehabbing them and then selling them to locals at cost, with interest-free loans. (The farm’s involvement with the local housing market is what makes it an agrihood.)

Today, the neighborhood is a mix of seniors, millennial professionals—and boarded-up abodes.

“We’re redefining what life in the urban environment looks like, and that involves some sort of integrated agriculture,” says Gersh, who lives a block away from the farm. “People love to be around plants, growing food.”

Jonathan Reese volunteers at the Michigan Urban Farming Initiative.

Jeffrey Sauger

The post Seeds of a New Community: Farm Living Takes Root in the Suburbs appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2vlRXmF

[msu82]

Beauty from Pain

If it wasn't for the clock on the table beside her, she would not have known how long she'd been in her room. Isolated, not eating, barely drinking, and crying her heart out in random spurts. Had she been in there a week? A month? Had she been rotting away for years? No, it had only been four days. Come the next stroking of the hour in the next ten minutes, however, it would be the start of the fifth day.

Her skin and hair felt thick and itchy even without touching it, so it be understandable that without the clock the time would have felt so much longer, but even without the griminess from lack of bathing it still felt like a pain of eternity in lasting. Gensen's eyes were welling again, she curling in on herself as one of her hands twitched in resistance to the desire of scratching. It was a habit, a nervous tick, for when she got too overwhelmed or paniced and over the passed several days each of her forearms had been scratched with trails of tiny scabs from nails too short to cut deep, but long enough to still cause damage. No.

Her brow eyes twitched the slightest bit open, nearly black in darkness of her room that was only tempered by the faint rays trickling in from the nightlife of Coruscant outside. She didn't need a reflection to know that the skin of her face was puffy and the whites of her eyes tinted red. One of her hands twitched again but instead of scratching it slowly, shakily moved upwards until reaching the right side of her head.

Her hair had always been long enough to end beneath her shoulder braids, brown with hints of a deep red, and naturally thick. There had always been just behind her right ear, however, the standard trimming (or growing out in a boy's case) of a five-inch section of hair for when a child of the Temple would, hopefully, become a padawan one day.

Her's had grown almost two inches over the past six months (a memory, vague from years ago, of her mother playing with her hair and saying how she was gifted with thickness and speedy growth) but now... it was trimmed back down to that starting five inches. Just four days ago, it was trimmed down. The ends of it were still painfully even. Sharp with the freshness of recent cutting. Gensen's fingers curled around the short lock of hair, eyes stinging once more. I'm so stupid.... The thirteen year old thought. I.... I was just a pity case! Two hands curled into as much hair as possible, grip firm and tugging as eyes squeezed shut to match the darkness that her Force Signature was dimming down to. Why else would I have been chosen mere MINUTES before getting shipped off to one of the Corps?! I'm an idiot, I'm stupid, and I'm a failure! I'm a shame to my Master and to the Order! I'm just worth-

No.

Her eyes fluttered open again. Her breath shook as it had been for days from sobbing, lung sore and throat surprisingly dry despite all of the tears she had cried. The tears she was still crying.

I might... not be a pity case.... That thought came to her slowly, a slight brightening before plunging back into the darkness, But I still failed! My Master renounced me for my own good, because I'm a failure at being a padawan

No. My Master... was just trying to spare me pain. That's why it happened the way it- No. My Master was.... in the right to....

No. A flame, smaller than the wick of a candle, slowly began to grow. My f... former Mater only.... he only had the best intention-

No.

My former Master didn't mean to-

No. The flame and the light it brought was continuing to grow ever more.

He didn't-

No.

He hadn't-

No. No. NO. NO! He... h... he.... Her eyes blinked, perhaps seeing her surroundings for the first time in days. She was feeling beyond the pain and the itchiness that the griminess covering her caused. He... Her bones creaked and muscled unnaturally ached as she sat up properly in what felt like ages. He... had no care for me. She blinked again before her head raised, staring at the lights of the Coruscant night trickling in from around her blinds. That thought was such a powerful revelation. The Force sang around her, and the voice that had been denying her earlier trail of thoughts had yet to speak up again.

He didn't care. The girl shimmied to the edge of her bed, light killing away the darkness that had been surrounding her as it was flipped on. The sound of the switch nearly deafening on her ears since it was the first thing she'd truly heard in days beyond her own sobs and misery. She looked to the window that was no longer her only source of brightness in the darkness surrounding her. He didn't care.

Short fingers with red-brown grime under the nails fumbled slightly after getting the blinds up, but soon succeeded in undoing the lock and opening the window. A breeze, as refreshing as a breath of life for one who couldn't breath, filled up her lungs and tickled her greasy hair back from her face. Her hands curled on the sill of the window, she closing her eyes and inhaling the deepest breath possible, and then exhaled as her eyes reopened. The constantly trailing tears that had been occurring during her internal war—as the external war continued to ravage the galaxy at large—had finally come to a halt.

“He didn't, and doesn't, care about me.”

She stood in silence, watching the lights of the night in the distance but, by the time she returned to stare about her room her clock red 0030 into the morning of the fifth day since her former Master had annulled their bond. Her brown eyes trailed, taking in two boxes that held the only possession she had in the world. One held things from when she had been in the Initiate dorms the first time that held art supplies, fiction books, and a couple of journals with poems, limericks, and a few random songs she had written to help her focus on her lessons and work through her emotions. All of those thing she hadn't touched throughout her brief apprenticeship.

Her former Master had said they were unneeded distractions and items of attachment. He had told her a true Jedi focused on nothing beyond their duties  

“...I am going to draw tomorrow.” She whispered aloud, even her softest voice still. Her eyes then turned to the other box, which held things she had been given once becoming a padawan, though none of the gifts had been by her Master:

The holobooks from the padawan lessons she wasn't allowed to be a part of any longer, for she'd have to return to the Initiates courses.

The first beaded tie for her braid so that she could close off it's end, given to her by her former Creche Master.

A hair-grooming kit that had been given to her, like to all new padawans, by the Knight of Master who managed their section of the Initiate's Dorms. One of her hands reached up to drag through some of her hair that her former Master had convinced her not to cut down at all. He had convinced her not to do it with his nickname for her on his poisonous lips...

* * *

“Oh, Genny, don't you cut your hair! You'd probably look odd if you did anything different.” Her former Master had placed a large hand on one of her shoulders, prodding her to look up at him. “Leave it long for your poor teacher, hm? I think it looks lovely upon you, Gensen.”

Gensen had hesitated a moment before she had smiled, nodding her head in a soft promise not to trim the long, thick brown locks even if she thought they were more hassle than they were worth to keep clean recently. Her Master liked them, and she'd hate to disappoint him any more than whenever he found out she hadn't been completely sticking to the diet plan he'd made up for her...

* * *

She was kneeling next to the box, staring at the few precious things within as her lips puckered. He didn't care for me. Every use of that nickname and my first name, every compliment, and even that diet plan so I could 'be healthier' and 'stronger'. He... was just trying to change me. He didn't care about me, he cared about... controlling me. Like a toy. The girl thought to herself, fingers idly running through the long hair she'd had for years.

She stood up, moving over to the corner of her bedroom and kneeling down on the mat there. Lighting the four scented candles that filled her senses with cinnamon and berries, she would close her eyes. She needed to meditate and after she'd finish that, however long the Force prodded her to remain in that state, she was definitely going to take a long shower.

I am one with the Force– she breathed in, exhaling as her thoughts faded from the world around her as the mantra pulsed with the drumming beat of blood in her veins –and the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me....

Master Nam Moa and Master Uim Mau, female and male respectively of the planet Waia, were sitting at their front desk at the entrance to the section of the Initiates Dorms that they managed over. It was bright and early, the sun not even on the rise just yet, but they were awake and awaiting their daily duties. Thus, the two Waia natives had a deck of cards between them. “Hah! In your Force, Uim. Told you I could win another hand.” Master Moa declared, cheeky grin in place as she dragged the pile of candy-leather bites to her side of the desk. The one opposite her, the hulking man he was in comparison to her petite frame, was all but pouting as he grabbed the deck to reshuffle. “Gloating is unbecoming of a Jedi, Nam.” The man scolded, passing out the cards between themselves. “You only say that when you lose, Uim! So come on and don't pout,” she brushed some of the curly, long brown hair behind her ear, “You know you can guilt me into sharing back your bit of the candies every time.” That got a huff, but soon both Waiaians were grinning as they dissolved back into another round of their game. They got halfway through it until they had to hurriedly shove their cards and betting supply of candies into a box and hidden from sight. Gambling could be a negative influence on the young, after all.

The one who was coming into the communal area of the Initiates dorms, however, was a sight for sore eyes even if her appearance caused surprise for more than one reason. “Gensen!” Master Moa came out from behind the desk with Master Mau following right after her, “It's so good to see you. Also, look at your hair! It's fantastic.”

It was a fantastic sight even if striking! Gone was the two-feet of thick hair hanging from all around the girl's head, for now there was just a foot hanging from the center and a short undercut covering the rest of the scalp. All of it was brushed to cover the right side of the head. And, with the new haircut came firm shoulders, a straight back, and a radiation of returned pride that covered erased the shame that had been drowning the poor girl nearly a full six days prior. They hadn't seen her in days, leaving her to her own devices to cope, but both had been getting worried. Master Moa had hesitated only slightly before, with a go-ahead from the girl, she had hugged the young one before moving back so Master Mau could do the same. “How are you feeling, young one? Where are you off to this morning?” The hulking man asked.

“I'm feeling alright, Master Mau,” The girl smiled, turning her attention to the other adult, “And thank you for the compliment on my hair, Master Moa! I trimmed it myself yesterday.” Out from under her arm she would pull out a piece of flimsi from her pocket. “Could one of you do me the favor of messaging my instructors that I apologize for missing my new classes all week, and that I'll be coming in tomorrow with all of my past-due work?” The two adults nodded, accepting the piece of flimsi and watching as the girl walked around them and off towards the main doors. It was there that she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Also, I am no longer Gensen. I'll be going to the legal offices of the Temple... after breakfast, where I will be eating vanilla ice-cream, strawberries, and a chocolate muffin. Then finally, once that is all done,” She adjusted the weighted bag hanging over her shoulders, “I am going to spend the entire day walking around the halls and drawing whatever my heart sees right.” The girl gave a bow to the adults, which they returned, and then would be gone. A bit over an hour later, once the sun had fully risen and the Temple at large was properly bustling with work and daily life, a girl from the planet Danan, named Gensen, went into the legal offices they had on temple grounds.

Another hour passing in the day, the girl would come out someone entirely new.

What will “lonely padawan’s” name be? If she is not Gensen, she has to be someone. Feel free to write your guesses! If anyone gets close, I might just giving them a little ‘guest spot’ in the next one shot. (Everyone but @markwatnae can send in guesses, anyway, cause she already knows the answer. XD) Also! Did anyone notice the little Easter Egg I did? I’ll give you a hint; think of one of the most recent Disney movies.

[msu82]

Mistaken Identities: Who’s that padawan!? It’s...!

It seemed that no matter what that Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is a Jedi Master and a General in an ongoing civil war throughout the galaxy, had a rather unlucky habit of losing those he cared about or for. Honestly, I should have expected this, he sighed as he continued down the temple hallways during the bustling of younglings during a day full of lessons, She is so very small, I should have expected I'd have a hard time finding her in the crowds. So much for trying to surprise her with my return. He had it planned, but he arrived to the learning halls a bit behind schedule and, alas, he hadn't been at the class of his tiny eleven-year old padawan before it had been released. And thus, he lost her before even finding her! It was hard to surprise someone when there's a chance they'd see you before you saw them. One of the few times in my life I'm actually the tallest of those around is the one time I wish not to be. The ginger male huffed a sigh. His spirits soon lifted, however, as he seemed to spot his padawan—long and brown ponytail, and tan-scale padawan clothes—kneeling down and adjusting one of her brown boots. She also was not facing towards him, so that meant he could have a chance to still surprise her after all. He got to her just as she stood, turning around, raising her face to look ahead of herself... and both were equally shocked. He with raised eyebrows and she with a yelp of shock as the tablet she had in her hands went flying into the air. Obi-Wan stared, dumbfounded, as the girl who was most certainly not his padawan scrambled while stumbling backwards to catch her tablet before it crashed to the ground. She did manage to catch it, but the poor thing almost went head first into the ground but thankfully he managed to fall out of his partially frozen state just in time to catch her. “I am sorry, young one. I did not mean to startle you–” with steadying hands on her shoulders he made sure the girl was alright, looking over her feet to make sure she hadn't harmed them in her stumbling– “I thought you were my padawan and, well, I was trying to surprise her with my homecoming. It was my mistake.” His apology was genuine despite his confusion as he watched the girl straighten out her tunics. It shouldn't have been possible though. The man pondered, slight crease furrowing his brows. It's easy to mistake physical features, sure, but the sensation of Force Aura shouldn't have been possible to mistake. It was true. His and her student's teaching bond was not always opened, so they relied on aura sensation to find each other once he returned home from the Temple. He had done that reaching, the signature dim in response but he figured she may have been practicing her shielding as she was often to do by cause of her empathy that otherwise easily overwhelmed her. How did-?

“It's alright, Master Kenobi. I should have been paying attention to my surroundings.” The girl's voice pulled him from his thoughts, causing his focus to return to her as she bowed low in greeting, “I am Padawan Gensen, and I have to say it's a nice surprise to get to meet you in person.” She rose back up, smiling at him and he felt his lips return the grin. He nodded his head in return with a grin still in place, “It is nice to meet you as well, young padawan. Is Gensen your first or last name, young one? If we are to meet again I would hate to accidentally speak in a familiar manner.”

“Oh I don't have a last name yet, Master. I'm of the planet Danan by birth, and I haven't chosen my final name. Calling me Gensen is perfectly fine.” The girl replied with another smile and he found his own eyebrow arch slightly in a much more welcomed surprise than before.

He had known that there was another sensitive born of that planet in the Temple whom was an infant in the Creche, but he hadn't ever realized that there was another from there who seemed close in age to Edie. “Truly? Well that is something. My padawan is from there as well.” In the back of his mind gear were working, he moment away from asking the young one who her Master might be so he could try to arrange training sessions for the girls together so they could interact with someone of the same birth culture. His mental rambling were once more cut off, however, by the girl's voice, “Your padawan that you mistook me for?” He nodded. “Long brown hair, pale skin, short, and a bit foofy just like me?” Foofy? He had not heard that term used before, and the longer he looked at her similarities seem more so almost in more than just appearance, for there was an exuberance in her signature and he noted the pitch of her voice was a little deeper than Edie's. So with an arched eyebrow he nodded his head once more, his mind beginning to wander back to how it shouldn't be possible to mistake a Force Signature you're familiar to with someone not the owner. For the third time, his mental wanderings on the oddity were once more interrupted by the short girl—a small handful of inches taller than Edie by reaching his shoulder rather than his chest—as Gensen puckered out her lips slightly, nodding, and then took a step toward him. “If you still want to surprise her, Master Kenobi.....” The girl reached out her hands, looking up at him for permission before putting one small hand on his forearm, the other on his middle back, and nudging at him to turn. (It was out of decorum, sure, but he found himself endeared by the seemingly natural, good-nature sass and playfulness in the action.) “....Then I think you still have the chance. That is her, right?” He was indeed staring at his padawan in the short distance, her back to him much like Gensen's was and though the back of his mind began pondering on the odd similarities once more, he smiled on the outside in genuine glee

“Yes, it certainly is!” He could not mask his joy at all and her turned, about to thank the padawan he had startled and, perhaps, request if he'd like to meet Edie—they were born of the same world, after all—but she was... already gone. Lost off into the crowds and slipped away from sight. His brows furrowed as he found that unusual. It wasn't a common occurrence that any youngling, no matter their ranking in the Order, would walk away form a Master or a Knight without properly excusing themselves. “Master!!” The excited voice, one he knew this time, pulled him form a fourth mental revere and he beamed as he soon found himself receiving a tight, warm hug around his middle from his tiny padawan. They had recently gotten to such a level of physical affection that she was comfortable with and, well, no one could blame him for this hug being the longest they've shared so far; he had been gone almost a month. So he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and the other hand he rested on the top of her head. “Hello there, padawan mine. I hope you don't mind my choosing to surprise you over messaging you that I was returning slightly early?” At the exuberant 'Of course not, Master!' he felt his smile widen more.

He quickly fell into focus on nothing but his padawan, for he only had two days planet-side before he'd have to leave for his next shipping. It wasn't until those two days passed and that he was a few hours into traveling away from Coruscant—the mixed troopers of the 212th and 501st socializing, roughhousing, and taking bets on Anakin and Ahsoka's silly competitions and duels—that he recalled that meeting with a girl who reminded him, in essence and appearance, of his tiny student. Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant with Anakin and Ahsoka less than two weeks later and were due to be home for several weeks. However, no matter how many times he walked Edie to and from her classes in the padawan-section of the schooling area of the Temple... he never saw that girl, Padawan Gensen, again.

Quite possible she and her Master were shipped out. He rationalized, not noticing the ping of negativity the Force sent his way as he, his former padawan, his current padawan, and his former-padawan's-current-padawan headed out into the nightlife of Coruscant to go to Rex's diner. He decided that if he ever managed to catch sight of the girl again he'd try and arrange a meeting for the two girls then but, if not, he wouldn't dwell on it.

Notice: The name “Gensen” is not this OC’s canon name! (The only ones who know it are myself and the fabulous @markwatnae) So if you wish to tag her as anything, then tag her or anything about her as “lonely padawan au”. (Why this is being called such a thing is all to be revealed in due time! *cackles*