#but then im gonna have to figure out how to dye it so it matches but uhhh haha idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multibug · 3 years

Text

i'm out of my head and i know that you're scared (because hearts get broken)

chapters: 19/? (chapter one is a prelude from my love square fluff series and is included) words: 51,441 relationships: adrien agreste/marinette dupain-cheng, alya cesaire/nino lahiffe tags: Alternate Universe - No Kwamis, Chatting & Messaging, Long-Distance Friendship, Identity Reveal, Slow Burn, Influencers, Aged-Up Character(s), Human Kwamis, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Lila Shakes Things Up summary: ren from ren and stimpy: think its the opposite u furry lookin ass

right chat: Rena, nooo!!

ren from ren and stimpy: rena yes

or, Adrien is a streamer on top of his modeling job, with the help of his long-distance friends Ladybug, Carapace, and Rena Rouge. Shenanigans ensue, and the masks they’ve hidden behind for years begins to break.

“You’re telling me that some bitch—”

Nino sputters out a mildly horrified laugh. “Alya!”

A strand of hair is tucked behind her ear by said snapback-clad boy and she huffs loudly. “What, Nino? It’s not as if I’m wrong. As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, she stole my identity?!”

“Yeah, we only realized she wasn’t you when the two of you returned from your trip and messaged us,” Adrien supplies helplessly, shifting to tuck a leg under him.

Alya gives both him and Marinette the stink eye, though Adrien’s sure it’s just a test if he knows her well enough. “How could you ever think someone like that was me?”

“To be fair, Als,” Marinette starts off, voice gentle as she scooches closer to Adrien to lean against his arm. “We didn’t really get to talk to her. I tried messaging her on Discord and on Twitch, but she kept claiming she was busy anytime I reached out. I figured you were just upset over the breakup originally and needed your space, you know? I didn’t want to push it.”

The redhead’s harsh exterior fades, and they’re left with a sad one instead. “Yeah, it’s just bizarre that she’d even want my account? Is she that obsessed with sunshine over here?”

“Hey! Don’t say that.” Adrien’s cheeks flush a deep shade of red, which has Marinette pinching them. He grabs her hands and huffs. “Hey to you too!”

Marinette’s laughter is contagious. “Hey, what’s up?”

Alya raises an eyebrow in Marinette’s direction and leans in to whisper into her ear. Whatever Alya says has Marinette’s cheeks burning a bright shade of pink that travels to her neck and parts of her shoulders. She quickly removes her hands from Adrien’s, yet stays tucked against his side.

Both of them blinking over in Adrien’s direction has him believing it had something to do with him.

“Whatever the case may be,” Adrien begins, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He’s not thinking about those last few seconds. Nope. “We need to be smart about this, Ren—Alya. She has your account right now and has all of our subscribers like putty in her hands.”

“Adrien’s right. If we go about this the wrong way, they might think we’re lying, and we do not want for that to happen,” Nino chimes in, resting a reassuring hand on Alya’s shoulder as she begins to close in on herself.

“It’s weird seeing you be reasonable,” Marinette comments idly, her hair splaying out over Adrien’s arm and shoulder.

Nino hums. “Only when it’s needed.”

“That’s a good way to live.”

“Yeah, I try.” Nino flips his non-existent long hair over his shoulder.

“So what do we do?” Alya’s voice is soft, nowhere near as confident as the girl they know.

Marinette sends her a reassuring smile. “Max is working on getting the account back as we speak. Going through the conventional means won’t work, but if anyone can do it, it’s Max.”

“He said he’d call once he has the account back, so instead of sitting around all day like plebs, I’ve planned us a little adventure.” Nino’s lips curve into a smirk that excites Adrien. “Get dressed, lads and ladettes. We’ve places to be, things to see!”

“Do you have any idea what he’s got planned?” Marinette asks both Adrien and Alya as Nino disappears into the guest room to supposedly finish getting ready.

A light breeze travels in through the screen door of the balcony. It’s chillier than it’s been the last few days, though not nearly as cold as Paris is during this time of year. Birds still flock regularly on Marinette’s balcony, a few residing today with the leftovers of what she’d given them earlier.

Adrien loves it here.

(Marinette definitely isn’t the main reason, no. He wouldn’t admit it to himself if he was paid to.)

“No idea,” Alya replies with a shrug, a far-off look in her eye. “I’m going to go get dressed.” As soon as the look had appeared, it vanished, and she follows Nino to change.

“We have to keep an eye on her,” Marinette whispers, a bit too close to constitute a reasonable amount of personal space, but Adrien isn’t complaining. “I don’t like seeing her like this.”

His heart warms at how caring she is. “You’re too nice, Bug. She’ll be okay, but we’ll be there for her if she needs us, okay?”

He hopes his reassurance is enough to quell her worries.

It does seem to be enough, and a huge smile breaks out on her face. “Thanks, Adrien. You’re the best.” She leaves him with a quick, slightly wet kiss on the cheek and scurries out of the room with a giggle, much to Adrien’s amusement.

He raises his eyebrows with a smirk, shaking his head fondly. If that’s how she wants to play, then so be it.

Game on.

— — —

PANINI: gamers im taking the ladies out today if you guys want to come, let me know and i’ll dm you the details

Banana head: NINO, YOU IDIOT. I’M NOT A LADY. Who changed my name? I will end you.

chlo: rmbr u rmbr right?

Banana head: Chlo, I swear to all that is holy. Don’t tell that story.

chlo: how much?

RENegade: is sHE ASKING FOR SEX???

marimba: SEX???????? wheRE?????

chlo: GOD NO I’M A LESBIAN WHAT THE FUCK

Kagami: Lesbian, huh? ;)

chlo: kagami stfu is2g

Kagami: ;)

chlo: ANYWAYS how much money, adri

Banana head: You want another Louis Vuitton bag, don’t you?

chlo: IT’S THE NEWEST OF THE SEASON AND THEY WON’T LET ME HAVE IT

Banana head: Sigh. I’ll see what I can do.

chlo: thanks bitch! you’re the bomb bomb dot com bomb diggity someone take away my phone

Alix: hey, @Carapace, what time are you guys going out? rose, juleka and i are about to see a movie but if it’s after that, we can meet up

PANINI: we were gonna head out before the rain hit so in like five minutes

Juls: drat we can just hang out another time then :( have fun guys!!!!

marimba: YOU TOO JULES I LOVE YOU BITCH

Juls: I AIN’T EVER GON STOP LOVING YOU

Alix: BITCH

Banana head: Best meme. 10/10.

luka: how can you say that when the chicken nuggets meme exists

marimba: I ONLY HAVE 69 CENTS!! GOOD MEME!!!!!!

luka: see even marinette knows

marimba: haha it has 69 in it haha haha ha

Banana head: You’re such a child!!!!

marimba: COMING FROM THE MAN WITH THE NAME BANANA HEAD WHERE’S CHLOE I’LL GET HER THE LOUIS VUITTON BAG IF IT MEANS HER TELLING THE STORY

Banana head: I’M KIDDING. I’M KIDDING!!!!

marimba: that’s what i thought :)

PANIN(o)I: y’all better be ready we leaving now let’s GO

RENegade: I’M COMING BITCH CHILLLLL

marimba: wITHOUT ME????

Adrien’s been ready for a bit, but he doesn’t mind waiting.

He decided on wearing a pair of black jeans instead of shorts, just in case it rains while they’re out, and a black sweater with a thick jean jacket. His hair is a dark brown shade, still lightening at a slow rate, though he doesn’t mind it much at this shade.

He wouldn’t dye it again to match, but he’ll let it fade as he’s enjoying the brunet life.

Marinette’s bedroom door squeaks open and she appears through the door, dressed and ready to go.

And wow. No one should look that good, and she pulls it off so easily.

Her bangs frame her face like curtains, her hair just past shoulder length from being straightened. Her bright blue eyes blink amusedly at him, lips arching into a smile.

The only makeup he spots is on her lips, a lip gloss that makes her lips look super kissable. “Problem, Agreste?”

Laughter bubbles out of his lips, and he averts his eyes. “None, Dupain-Cheng. Just admiring your beauty, is all.” Lying won’t help his cause, so he might as well be honest.

She rolls her eyes, hard enough to hurt, yet her cheeks give her away. “Sure, whatever you say!”

His eyes flash over her attire. While she’s not dressed up by any means, the outfit she chose suits her so well.

Wait. Is she trying to kill him?

With the impending rain and whether they’ll end up caught in the crossfire, she’s chosen a black baggy sweater, denim jeans with large holes around the knees with fishnet stockings underneath, and black old-skool vans.

And to top it off, she’s wearing his merch. His Chat Noir sweater that’s completely black, with white lettering in the center that says, “I’m the Chat’s meow”. He hadn’t noticed at first, been too preoccupied with, er, other things—her lips—and he’d lie if he said his face didn’t get slightly hot at seeing her in person in his merch.

“I thought you only bought the sweatpants, Bug?” He asks offhandedly, eyes averting from her for a second time.

(He has no idea the nickname brings another bout of red to her cheeks.)

“Shut up or I will take it off right now—”

“Oh, please d—”

She’s in front of him in a second, her hand firmly covering his mouth with a menacing look in her eyes. “Adrien Agreste, if you continue with that sentence, I will murder you and I won’t tell anyone where I hid your body—”

Adrien bursts out laughing the best he can, and it sounds so bizarre with her hand muffling it. His own hand finds her wrist and wraps around it, gently prying it away from his face. “Bug, please, you’re going to kill me!”

“You’re not wrong about that,” she affirms with her eyes narrowed. She allows him to keep hold of her wrist.

“I was kidding,” he murmurs, eyes locking with hers as he brings her wrist to his lips and presses a light kiss to her skin. With how close she is, he can feel her breath hitch, so he sends her his best smile. “I would never want to make you uncomfortable.”

Marinette’s head tilts to the side, face softening. Her free hand finds his cheeks and she squeezes them gently. “You’ve never made me uncomfortable before, and you haven’t now. I was kidding as well.”

His eyes brighten. “Oh, so that means you—”

“You’re absolutely hopeless!” Her forehead drops to his shoulder as she whines loudly.

“There, there,” he says, hand wrapping around her to pat her back. “You’ll be okay, Bug, don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

She’s warm, so warm against him that his jacket feels stifling, and he tugs her closer, enjoying—savoring this moment with her. He doesn’t have many days left in Nice, and he wants to cherish every second he can.

There goes his heart again, pitter-pattering away, following hers like a lost puppy.

If only she knew.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #streamer au #mine #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #i finally wrote it!#its' finally posted!!!!!!!!!!!#AAAAAAAAAAAH #i hope you guys enjoy #this is only part one of two tho :p #also this is not beta'd #ill probably fix it later but i aint give a FUCK #ladynoir #but unconventionally

15 notes · View notes

bokutsumie · 3 years

Note

Hey!! I just found your blog not to long ago and 😭👌💛 lovely stuff, might I say!! I was hoping I’d be able to ask for a Match-Up for BNHA, Haikyuu!!, and JJK? (If it’s too much, you can reduce! Don’t overwork yourself! 💛) I am a female and I personally go by She/Her pronouns, but honestly I’m so laid-back that I don’t care when people use he/him or they/them despite identifying as a female!

Uhh, appearance wise, I’m a 5’3” female, who’s friends say I’m “curvy” or has a “hour-glass” body figure! 😅 I have long ash-brown hair with a strange blonde streak in the back underneath (no clue where that came from bro it just showed up one day 😂) and with faded blue laced underneath my hair from a break-down hair-dye incident a year ago (oof yknow how it is 💅). I have pale skin and vague freckles on my shoulders. I have bright blue eyes!! Quick note, because of my “thiccness”, I do struggle with body-image and self-confidence, unfortunately-

I am a huge singer!! I have major stage-fright though, and so because of that I’ve only ever sung in choirs with a group where my voice is drowned out, or with my friends! I also really like to bake and cook (though I will say I’m better at baking than I am cooking-). I’m a huge artist, I spend a lot of time sketching in my sketchbooks and collecting aesthetic pins on my Pinterest! I also have a huge love for writing and writing/reading Fanfiction, and I love to organize! Music is a big part of my life as well, and honestly I couldn’t live without music! I have a wide variety of taste in music, so I pretty much listen to a little of everything! Personality wise, down to the one I’m described by my friends as the “mom” friend, and I’m a HUGE empathetic gal! I’m told I give amazing advice, especially when it comes to rougher topics cause I tend to understand insecurities more, or try to understand and listen? I’m definitely more of a listener than a speaker, as well as a follower than a leader unfortunately. 😅 I’m really shy and awkward at first, but if people take the time to break past my barriers, they find that I’m a goofball hopeless romantic that cares and feels WAY too much! I tend to become friends with Extroverts more so than Inteoverts since I have a really hard time starting and keeping a conversation afloat! I’m also really lazy, but get major boosts of confidence, motivation, and energy late at night! I’m also a night owl soooo...It’s really hard for me to fall asleep, so I usually listen to music or audios to help me sleep well. People also say I’m a Tom-boy, since I’m not into “girly” stuff? OH: my style of clothing is usually jeans, black leggings/sweatpants, oversized hoodies, or flannels, and yes ... I do tend to steal people’s clothing LOL-

My Zodiac is Aries (I know, I’m not a stereotypical Aries with anger issues and confidence 😬😅), and my MBTI is a ISFP-T! My favorite day song (yes, I have a cycle for day songs and night songs 😌 I prefer rock n roll in the day, soft songs at night) is “Riot” by Three Days Grace or “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance! My favorite night time song is “Please Never Fall in Love Again” by Ollie MN or “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole!

...sorry for all the information 😳😳😳 looking back now I realize how much I wrote...uh....just gonna put myself on Anonymous so I don’t look like a complete fool-

hi, im honestly really glad you like my blog, but this is probably the last time i'm going to specify this and from now on i'll be ignoring requests that don't follow my guidelines. as much as i'd love to do this especially because you put so much detail into it and i really appreciate it as a writer (etc.), i don't know what gender to pair you with! not trying to be rude, it's just a pain when i get a really good request with a bunch of extra details and stuff but it doesn't specify something that i need to be able to complete the request. i'm sorry :(. but it really was so sweet of you to include so many details! i just don't wanna make anyone uncomfy by matching them up with a character that doesn't fit their sexuality. this was a pending request and i finally just read through it but please don't be shy to submit another one when matchups are open again!

#barking—[🎞]#i'm sorry if this sounds mean i am so fucking tired HSJSB

1 note · View note

someone-always-cares · 4 years

Photo

[image description: a q&a for the webcomic someone always cares. full desc under the cut because its long and wordy sorry]

post chapter 3 Q&A

first - previous - next

thanks for yalls questions!! it was fun to answer! if anyone still has questions feel free to ask whenever i am always 100% down to ramble. even if i did go slightly off topic in some answers

additional: went off topic with the hair question a bit. their bright hair is all part of the transformations. regular hair dye does exist though. best way to tell is that if the eyebrow matches the hair its probably not dyed. also, quartz’s hair is naturally ginger.

also for more on ages, check out the character bios here

also was gonna keep this in the tags but thought i might as well actually try to answer it: the question i found it hardest to answer was someone the song one. my taste in music is. a mess really. ive been listening to like the same 5 songs on repeat all day. more under the cut because i was rambling again and now its uhhh half 1am

if it helps at the time of answering that specific question i had home by cavetown on repeat, and that song reminds me of both rami and lewis. but that may be because i project onto those two a lot, and as a aro trans dude. who sucks with people skills, yeah of course i love that song.

specifically the vibes of like not knowing how to communicate (rami is fine with his friends but other people are different), the lines “ Turn off your porcelain face, I can't really think right now and this place, Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane” idk what the porcelain face line is supposed to mean but im picturing it as like. a mask. that you need to take off and stop hiding and rami does tend to hide when hes feeling upset, and the next two lines kinda could tie into that, like the feeling of when youre overwhelemed and just want the world to stop so you just hide somewhere. also the colours could go with chapter 3 with the chromatic abberation.

also the bit with “ my eyes went dark, I don't know where, my pupils are, But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here” just kinda sums up ramis whole hero thing with his powers and all. anyway this has turned into less what songs rami would like and why this particular song reminds me of him and lewis (lewis specifically has the hair cutting/chest hiding, [big transmasc mood], and also messy haired trainwreck who doesnt know who he is yet. also the ghosts bit)

i did end up picking upbeat songs because ramis a dude who like to try and be upbeat even if things arent. even if hes not really feeling it he will pretend to.

[full description: Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: “hi ily!!! do characters like quartz who have colored hair have that naturally or did they dye it?”

“its both natural and not! while most supers can do a magical girl ish transformation, including a change in hair colour, there are some exceptions.”

theres two small full body drawings of rami, one in civilian clothes, one fully transformed.

“if a superhero were to have a biological child, the child will inherit the powers of the parent(s). however, the child will not inherit the full transfromation. they do inherit any physical transformations, but not the outfit.”

theres a drawing of a woman in blue, quartz’s mother, fully transformed, holding her mask in her hand, smiling down at a much younger quartz as a child. hes smiling back up at her with the same blue eyes, pointy ears, and blue hair, but hes still in normal clothes.

“in the case of quartz, both of hisparents had superpowers, and he inherited those powers and the physical transformations.he can also pick and mix whatphysical traits to change.“

next is a headshot of adult quartz, his face split down the middle with one side having hair and eye like his mother, the other like his father. theres a list of traits from each parents, blue hair and eyes and pointy ears from his mum, and purple hair and eyes and pointy teeth from their dad.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: Are all the characters the same age? If not, how old are they? Are they irl friends or just superhero friends?”

theres some headshots of rami and his team lined up with ages labelled: cam is 15, rami himself is 17, lin, mateo, and dante, are all 18, and cap is 20.

“rami and xandra were somewhat friends before she got superpowers, so when, after the incident with her old team, she found rami had developed powers, xandra stuck close to him. their other teamates started off as superhero friends but soon turned into irl friends too”

theres a headshot of lewis and jade. theyre both 17

“when lewis first decided to start being a vigilante,jade quickly found him and decided to help train himand offered to be a mentor of sorts, as they both have similar powers. that quickly derailed.”

“ cinder5555 said to someone-always-cares: How long does it usually take to make a comic page? I'm curious because they're so freaking good that they must take FOREVER”

theres a drawing of myself, a fluffy hair tired bastard in a hoodie, smiling

“Thanks! Ive been doing this shit since like 2017 and i still have no idea how long it takes me. i can get a page done in a day if i have nothing else to do or if its a simple page, but if i have work then maybe 2-3 days? i spend like, most of my free time doing this.“

another drawing of me, now looking frustrated muttering “how the FUCK does time work”

“but i can never do it all on one sitting.i will inevitably get distracted and zone out daydreaming mid drawing so its very hard to get an accurate read on how long it takes. so however long a piece of string is i guess“

the only qustion not from tumblr is a discord message from RuneStone Cabin:

“Q: Can you talk about the incidence of superpowers in this world? Like many people are supers, which powers are more or less common, how long they've been a thing for, stuff like that. Also does Omen know I'd die for them “

theres a drawing of omen pointing at a date circled on a calender marked “decembuary”, theyre saying “i know. i already wrote your death in my calender.”

then a giant wall of text reading: “Supers have only existed for a relativly short time, since the early 1940s. momento mori was the second person to have ever gained powers.

Only a small number of the population are supers! the chances are higher in more populated cities, but unusally london has oneof the higher percentages of supers. while nobody in universe has any idea of the origins of superpowers, it does seem that powers are more likely to occur in people who would actually use their powers.

as for what powers are most common, after making a badly catagorized spreadsheet of every superpowered character ive made for this world (70% of which will probably never even be seen), turns out that elemental powers are the most common. although not all elemental powers manifest as the straight up 'controling this element' as seen in characters like lin or tsunami. for example, iris's powers would fall under shadow elemntal powers, but theyre a lot more weird that just controlling shadows.there are some abilities that have never been seen before,such as ressurection or full on time travel (aka anything that could bring a character back to life), but powers are certainly allowed to toe the line eg healing, powers involving undeath, immortality, pausing or manipulating time.

aside from that, anything goes. you could get plain old superstrength, but you could also get the ability to create dogs with your mind. other not quite rules, more guidelines are that supers are immune to their own powers hurting them (unless they were pushing themselves too hard), although the way the imminuties occur may be inconvinient to the super.

while some powers may be 'more powerful' than others, powers dont really get to be way underpowered or overpowered in comparision to others. sure being able to talk to animals may feel a bit useless compared to someone who can lift 4 tanks at once, but nobodys going to end up with a power like 'can turn into a goose but only once' or 'can grow toenails twice as fast' or 'if i sneeze i can change my hair colour'. at the same time, youre not going to get someone with the power to snap their fingers and level a city, or instantly blow up the moon or whatever.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: I love rami PLEASE tell me his favorite song(s) and why. I will die for you”

a drawing of rami saying out loud “i dont really have any specific favourite song, really? i just listen to whatever sounds catchy and then listen to that on repeat for hours until i hate it. i guess i do like upbeat songs? ones that make you feel happy even if the lyrics are sad”

“ un1c0rnhh said to someone-always-cares: tell me,,, please,, cam,,, are they a cat person or a dog person?? ily"

theres a drawing of cam a metre away from a cat lying down. she has her arm out and is making ‘psspsspss’ noises at it. end id]

FUCK i am so glad i didnt hand write all of that, it would have been a major pain in the ass to write it all and then have to transcribe all that next. but nope i could directly copy paste the asks and word answers. cheers if anyone made it this far down. if anyone wonders why this is uploaded late, you know now.

#sac #someone always cares #sorry to my friends i rambled to about the previosly mentioned attempt at catagorizing powers #i made a fucking spreadsheet and everything #it was awful #also it probably obvious but i still have yet to download the font i use to this computer #did i ever mention what i named the font when i made it #because its called 'dicks out for the void' or something #it was funny back in mid/late 2017 ok

22 notes · View notes

the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

Text

Oh my god, i had this sitting in my notes for a while, only remembered it recently. That being said, hi! I hope you enjoy this! Its a kinda sketchbooky oneshot in an au where Johanna is also a witch!

(Not for secret santa or anything, just wondered if u'd like it)

Omg. So, @tall-tappers is the one who sent this and I have to say I’m walking on air. Thank you so much for sending me this!!! I really enjoyed reading it (and you used one of the headcanons I wrote on Family Fights??? Omg.). I cannot thank you enough!

...

"Mum, did you dye your hair?"

Johanna turned around, jumping in surprise at the question. She glanced beyond her daughter to a mirror, seeing traces of a sparkly blue in messy wisps at the top of her head.

"Oh, yeah, actually. Just testing highlights, seeing how it'd look. What do you think?"

Hilda tilted her head, a smile forming.

"Yes! Then we can match!"

Johanna turned away slightly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I don't know. I think I'm gonna dye it back."

"No, come on! It looks great!" Hilda pleaded, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

Johanna sighed, ruffling her daughter's mop of fluffy hair.

"Alright, you got me. I'll see what I can do."

Hilda cheered a victorious "Yes!" before she was rushed out of the house.

"Now come on, we wouldn't want to keep your friends waiting."

Hilda giggled and sprinted towards the car in a flash.

Johanna smiled softly as she followed her daughter and buckled into her seat.

"To the library?"

She asked.

Hilda nodded enthusiastically, a huge grin on her face.

[[MORE]]

...

Johanna looked at the kids gathered at a table, flipping through books and discussing beasts of some kind as they normally did while they were here. She thought back to her times in this very library when she was growing up, usually full days filled with studying. Or, at least, goofing off when she should have been studying.

"Nice day, isn't it?"

Rang a familiar voice from above her head.

She looked up to the source, her face brightening the second she heard it.

"Maven!" She called, waving to the librarian.

"Ive been meaning to talk to you."

Maven slid down the ladder, placing a few books back in the correct spots as she did.

"That's new. You never want to talk to me." She said with a sarcastic twinge, a smirk pulling at her mouth.

Johanna playfully waved her hand.

"Oh please. This is important."

Maven nodded, letting her cloak fall back into its obscuring position, before leading the two of them to a table.

As they sat, Johanna saw a hot cup of her favorite brand of peppermint tea sitting before her.

She looked to the librarian for permission, and was met with a nod.

"Ive gotten used to your little visits." She said, slyly resting her head on her hand with half closed eyes.

Johanna pretended that didn't make her as happy as it did, and cleared her throat.

"Listen. Ive come to talk about Hilda."

Maven sat up straighter.

"Why? What's happened?"

Johanna took a calming sip of her tea, sorting her words before speaking.

"Well, this morning, she noticed my hair dye was fading."

Maven's eyes traveled up, catching the unusual hair color.

"Ah. And?"

"Well, i told her that I was trying blue streaks out. She still thinks that brown is natural for me." Johanna's face fell, and she turned her gaze to the side. "And she seemed really excited about the prospect of full head matching hair color." That pulled a short laugh from her chest. "But I'm not sure if I'm ready for that."

Maven took a sip of some coffee, casually resting an arm on the back of the chair she was in.

"Well, you could just let it fade. It almost attracts more attention for her to be the only one with strangely colored hair."

Johanna looked away, fidgeting her hands on the mug.

"I just don't want people to say anything to us, and I'm not sure if i want her to find out yet."

"Well, have you told her what it means?"

"No, but she's smart, she'd figure it out. I mean, between your hair and magic room and her proficiency in it shes bound to draw the connection long before I plan to tell her."

Johanna sighed, looking over to her daughter's oblivious, absolutely ecstatic expression.

Maven hummed in thought, tapping the table with painted nails.

"You could always try using your magic? Erase her mind of the incident and go back to normal?"

Johanna winced, her voice turning more into a whisper.

"I told you, I dont do magic. You know how the city feels about us. I'd much rather lie to her."

She groaned, placing a hand on her forhead.

"But even that's not exactly desirable."

Maven clicked her tongue, taking a decisive sip of her coffee.

"You really should stop letting the city deny you of who you are."

"But this is who I am! Besides, I dont exactly want to risk going to jail every time I make a mistake!"

Johanna stated angrily, hitting a palm on the table. She had to take a moment to regain control of her breath.

"I-Im sorry for that. I don't know what came over me."

"You're restless."

Maven observed.

"This is the kind of thing that happens. I know you don't like me talking about it, but you are a witch. We kind of need magic."

Johanna let out a long sigh before resting her hands in her lap.

"You're right. I understand." She said quietly.

"But I'm just... scared. I just want her to grow up happy, like I did. And that means covering things like this."

"You don't seem happy now."

Johanna was silent, not even turning to meet her gaze.

There was a long moment of stillness between them, broken when Maven once again took a drink from her mug.

"in my opinion, you said Hilda would eventually find out anyway, so why not tell her now? It would save a lot of difficulty down the line."

Johanna closed her eyes for a moment in thought.

"I'll do what I can."

She said.

"Thank you."

They both rose to their feet as Hilda and her group of friends ran over, chatting over eachother until they reached where Johanna stood.

"Can we go to the woods on the far side of the wall?" Hilda asked with a confident stance.

Johanna laughed, joy returning upon seeing her daughter's excitement.

"I don't see why not."

They cheered and began to run past, Hilda leading with Frida close behind, holding some kind of camera, while David took the rear with a grin, despite his obvious hesitancy.

Maven looked after them, crossing her legs and lifting her mug to her mouth.

"You should follow them."

Johanna's brow furrowed, and she turned back to the librarian in worry.

"What? Why?"

"I've heard of some strange goings on from that direction. Its just better to be safe than sorry."

Johanna let out a breath through her teeth, pulling some strands of hair out of her face.

"Well, if you think it's best."

Maven winked. "And you know how often I'm right." She stood to collect the empty mugs and waved as Johanna chased after the children.

'stay safe out there, okay?' She wanted to yell after her, but decided against it.

#hilda the series #hilda netflix #hilda librarian #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #hildas mum #Johanna #hilda fanfic #submission

25 notes · View notes

arsonist14 · 7 years

Text

Get to know me tag

Tagged by @princess-kidatheart17

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

//yeah right like I’m gonna make ppl go through this xD//

Okay so I think the numbers are jumbled up even though I copy/pasted this but pfft I’m not gonna go through this whole thing and fix it lol

1. Drink: Dr Pepper 2. Phone call: …what? (Hehe I like my ringtone ^^ It’s The SpongeBob SquarePants Theme Song) 3. Text message: I don’t understand this question…… 4. Song you listen to: ahhh my favorite song is Fall Out Boy: ‘Immortals’ I listen to it a lot!! 5. Time you cried: I cried when my dad called me a baby for liking cartoons and animated *kid’s* shows at age 14…so I decided to work at Disney Animation Studios when I grow up! *sticks tongue out at dad*

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: Yes but I wasn’t into him. The poor guy (I only went bc we’re both photographers and he wanted to go out and take pictures so I went too 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Yeah but I was just a dumb child then 8. Been cheated on: Nope 9. Lost someone special: my first art teacher 10. Been depressed: Never for too long. I wouldn’t even call it depression I was just sad for a short period of time bc of something bad that happened or whatever 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yeah hi question 11 NEED I REMIND YOU IM ONLY 16 SO OF COURSE NOT

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: Sapphire blue, purple, and that minty looking green :) IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: Soooo Many!!! 16. Fallen out of love: *with an animated character and not real people, yes* 17. Laughed until you cried: I do that a lot xD I am easy to get laughing 18. Found out someone was talking about you: Not in a bad way 19. Met someone who changed you: Maybe but I’d really have to think about it 20. Found out who your friends are: Yep 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: I have no Facebook

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I HAVE NO FACEBOOK 23. Do you have any pets: Two cats 24. Do you want to change your name: Only my last name (I’d change it to Hamada) 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: Just..ate food at a restaurant. This September I have a football game to go to on my birthday -_- (bc I’m in band/percussion) 26. What time do you wake up: Like 1:00pm on my own but my mom wakes me up at 11 something am xD 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Drawing Zootopia fanart 28. Name something you can’t wait for: BIG HERO 6 THE SERIES AND MAYBE SOME WORD ON ZOOTOPIA 2 PLEASE DISNEY??!! 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Well she’s in front of me rn 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: I wish I had unlimited data 31. What are you listening to right now: My mom’s watching The Wheel of Fortune so yeah 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: My friend’s mom is named Thomasa //does that count// 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: THERE JUST ARENT ENOUGH HOURS IN THE DAY YKNOW 34. Most visited website: TUMBLR and AO3 !! 35. Mole/s: yeah I have a lot ad I like them :) 36. Mark/s: A birthmark on my left hip 37. Childhood dream: In pre-k I wanted to be an illustrator bc the only things I knew back then were art and books x3 38. Hair color: Dark brown 39. Long or short hair: Long! Ends right above my butt 40. Do you have a crush on someone: Ehh he’s cute and all but I don’t think our paths will cross *in that way* when we grow up 41. What do you like about yourself: My artistic talent :D 42. Piercings: I can wear two earrings on each ear ;) 43. Blood type: A+ 44. Nickname: Emmy is my favorite but…nobody calls me that but me :/ 45. Relationship status: Single 46. Zodiac: Virgo 47. Pronouns: She/Her 48. Favorite TV Show: Cartoon: SpongeBooooob Squarepaaaaants!! Live Action/Sitcom: iCarly ^^ Anime: Danganronpa 49. Tattoos: Not yet! :D 50. Right or left hand: Righty 51. Surgery: Never had any 52. Hair dyed in different color: I’m gonna dye it with a bunch of blues and purple ✨ 53. Sport: Pfft. Like, Band and Skateboarding 55. Vacation: I’d go to Japan and my tumblr bro is in Paris, France so ya 56. Pair of trainers: what does this even mean

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: HAHAHA I barely eat but I just had a chocolate chip cookie 58. Drinking: I drank milk with that cookie 59. I’m about to: Listen to Hamilton musical or Fall Out Boy and draw 61. Waiting for: The end of this post bc I wanna go draw lol 62. Want: To meet @trashasaurusrex !!! AND FOR MY OTP TO BE CANON!!! 63. Get married: Hmm… Love is going to have to find me bc I’m more focused on drawing and getting to Disney and stuff ^^’ and after than eh maybe I’ll be open to dating but all in all I’m indifferent to getting married BUT LOVE DOES SOUND REALLY GREAT hehe 64. Career: Character Designer, Voice Actress, Animated Feature/Series Director/Creator

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: I don’t have a lot of kiss experience (if any at all) but I think hugs and cuddling are the best 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes are the windows to the soul!! So eyes 67. Shorter or taller: a little taller would be nice 68. Older or younger: I miss being 14 bc it’s like in between being a kid and a teen (but not a fresh teen y'know) but 17 sounds like it’s gonna be in between teen and adult and that sounds cool too ;) but still younger 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: Nice stomach 71. Sensitive or loud: LOUD! 72. Hook up or relationship: Relationship bc everything is more or less figured out 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Troublemaker 😈

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: Nah 75. Drank hard liquor: AGAIN IM 16 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: Lost my glasses for a bit once 77. Turned someone down: LOTS 78. Sex on the first date: I’m ace/demi so that’s a no for me 79. Broken someone’s heart: again, LOTS 80. Had your heart broken: Yeah but it had nothing to do with crushes and stuff but rather sad experiences like death and when something just didn't go my way...... 81. Been arrested: Maybe almost xD 82. Cried when someone died: Fictional and real yeah 83. Fallen for a friend: Not for long bc I know my priorities :/

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: Pfft, Always 😎 85. Miracles: Well YOU try explaining them ;) 86. Love at first sight: How the heck do you think I fell for Hiro Hamada?! xD 87. Santa Claus: I BELIEVE SANTA CLAUS IS WHAT EVERYONE SAYS HE IS: the SPIRIT of Christmas!! Like as in Santa Claus is the Christmas Spirit everyone feels on that Christmas Day when we wake up and feel instantly happy :D (hence the phrase 'Santa Came!!’) He’s here with us all season as long as we have the spirit in us :) 88. Kiss on the first date: I think instant matches like that it can truly happen

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: All my best friends have moved away from me one after the other but eh I’ll go with Erica. At least she’s still around ;) //though Emily and I have more in common…also Erica’s leaving the school band and Emily is staying// 91. Eye color: Brown but in the light the look not red or orangey 92. Favorite movie: BIG HERO 6 AND ZOOTOPIA As for live action: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Horrible Bosses 2 😄

TAGS: Anyone who wants to kill time, talk about themselves, and bored enough to do this ahaha xD

#tag #I was tagged #thanks btw ^^

1 note · View note

aya-chi007 · 7 years

Text

Pickpocket the Stars - Ch. 4: Perfect

AFF Ao3

Yoongi takes a deep breath as she stares at the mass of white brick buildings laid out in front of her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it was some sort of government building from the well-kept lawns, ornamental shrubs, and statues depicting long-forgotten figures that no one cared about anymore. She does know better, knows it’s the middle school where Namjoon teaches English.

She had decided on a black pantsuit with a plain red blouse underneath her blazer. Power colors. No pencil skirts, especially not after Jay’s comment about her wearing them yesterday. She’s not trying to be cute. The same black folder is tucked beneath her arm again, except this time it holds her résumé and cover letter. Not an end this time, but hopefully a new beginning. Her red heels click against the sidewalk as she approaches the first building, the statuary marble plaque engraved with the word ‘office’ shining in the morning light.

The tiled marble floors inside match the plaque outside. Veins of gray streak through the white in broad, dynamic, nonsensical patterns. Yoongi crinkles her nose in displeasure as she takes in the office: White suede couches tucked away in the corner, one against each wall, framing a white wood coffee table; marble shelves inside white wood display cases, showing off all the various awards the school has won; and the front desk, a stretch of white wood from wall to wall, except one of the walls topped with a matching marble counter. Everything’s a perfect match.

She hates it. It feels fake. It looks like a blank canvas waiting to be filled with color. It reminds her of a doctor’s office: sterile. She can practically smell antiseptic. In her black and red outfit, she feels like the embodiment of sin, like she might leave a stain on anything she touches. She approaches the counter, the desk. She can see the entrance into the little office space, connected the the hallway the door to her left. No one in sight, the white, faux leather chair behind the desk empty.

“Hello?” She calls into the emptiness.

Barely a moment after she speaks, the door behind the desk opens, An immaculately dressed woman comes into the space behind the desk, shooting Yoongi a dazzling smile. “Hello,” she greets, her pale pink sheath dress accented with a braided white belt fastened around her waist. “I’m Vice Principal Kwon, how can I help you?”

“Min Yoongi, nice to meet you,” Yoongi responds, taking Ms. Kwon’s extended hand, taking note of her perfect French manicure as she gives it a firm shake. “I heard about your vacancy for the receptionist position. I’m here to apply.” As she hands over her folder, she notices Ms. Kwon’s smile become forced, her eyes flitting up to her hair.

“Yes, well, we’ll add it to the pool…” Ms. Kwon trails off as she flips open the folder, her eyes scanning over the paper inside. “You worked for Prospere Corp?” She asks, clearly stunned as she looks back up to Yoongi. They’re one of the top businesses in the country. Why would you resign from there?”

Yoongi shrugs, forcing a smile of her own. “Just ready to take on a new challenge.”

“Indeed,” Ms. Kwon murmurs as she closes the file. “Well, as part of the employment here, you’re required to have a naturally occurring hair color: black, brown, blonde, or auburn. Gray, silver, and white are only acceptable if caused by age.” She closes the file before smiling. “Dye your hair and come back tomorrow at nine o’clock sharp for an interview and I’d say you have this job in the bag.”

Yoongi thanks her before leaving. Perfect. The applicant pool must be full of overprotective moms trying to keep a closer eye on their kids. She sniggers to herself as she walks out of the school gates. First though, she needs to take care of her hair. Humming thoughtfully, she glances around. She’s not terribly familiar with uptown. She figures all of the salons are good though. Downtown doesn’t have any salons, nor does her neighborhood, and she might run into one of Jay’s goons, or even Jay himself, in midtown.

Finding one is easy. She ducks into the first one she comes across. Close to three hours later, her hair has become a yellowy platinum, bright like midday sunlight, but obviously blonde. It’s perfect. Humming happily to herself, she begins the walk home, debating what she wants to grab for lunch, It’s sunny, slightly breezy and she can feel summer slowly drawing to a close and the whispers of autumn beginning to drift through the air.

Yoongi ends up spending more and more time at the gray colonial as summer fades into autumn and autumn falls into winter. Every time she’s over now, Jay emerges from wherever he’s been hiding to hang out with her and the guys. She finds it flattering, honestly. He’s so handsome and powerful and for some reason choosing to put his work to the side to spend time with her.

Other than that kiss, he’s kept his distance, occasionally patting her shoulder when he walks by her, pulling her into a one-armed hug when he sees her for the first time that day and when she leaves; and exchanging high-fives when she burns one of the other guys. She doesn’t have a lot of physical contact with him. Kiseok seems to be blocking her from it. Why, she doesn’t know. Jay’s great to be around. He’s witty, funny, sarcastic, and makes her feel welcome.

A few nights before Christmas, she, Kiseok, and Jay are in the living room. There’s a fire crackling merrily in the stone hearth. Five stockings hang from mantle, the one on the far right a soft pink, much different from the red stocking on the opposite end and the three green stockings that fill them middle. Jay had teased her as he hung the pink one, saying it was for her, she was part of their family now. She had blushed furiously, hitting Jay’s arm and muttering for him to shut up.

They’re watching a movie. Well, Yoongi and Kiseok are watching a movie, eyes trained on the screen above the mantle. She’s in the middle of the two of them on the couch. Out the corner of her eye, she can see Jay studying his phone, essentially ignoring the TV. She wonders why he’s even in here then. Hyukwoo and Sunghwa had bailed when they suggested a movie.

“Hey, Kiseok,” Jay speaks up, grabbing the remote so he can turn down the TV. “Some of Im’s guys posted pictures online and they’re in our territory. Go take care of it.”

Kiseok looks over at Jay uneasily, glancing around the empty room before looking at Yoongi. “Right now? Can’t it wait till-”

Yoongi cringes back into the couch cushions as Jay glares at Kiseok. “Wait until what?” He asks softly.

An answer never comes. Kiseok sighs as he gets to his feet, ruffling Yoongi’s hair and promising to be back soon. She calls out a cheery ‘be safe!’ after him. After she hears the door close, she turns to Jay to ask him to turn the movie up again. Except Jay’s no longer leaning against the armrest of the couch. He’s right beside her, brushing her long, black hair away from her face,

Yoongi feels the heat rise to her cheeks. Jay’s looking at her so attentively, so affectionately. It’s an odd feeling, making her chest flutter. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

“‘Cause,” Jay murmurs, his lips curling into a handsome smile. Everything about him is handsome. The light from the fire casts him in a warm glow, his nose stud twinkling in the light. It flatters him, everything flatters him. He’s perfect. “Have I told you how glad I am that you joined? That I got to meet you?”

She shakes her head , biting her lip as she considers him. “I’m glad I joined,” she whispers. She doesn’t know why she’s whispering. Kiseok’s out on that assignment and Sunghwa and Hyukwoo are who only knows where. “It feels like freedom here.”

That makes him chuckle as he bring up a hand to stroke her cheek. His hand is cool against her flushed skin and she leans into the touch. “I’m glad you’re here… with me,” he admits quietly. Yoongi feels her heart pick up speed as he looks into her eyes, warmth and sincerity evident in his gaze. “You’re so amazing, Yoongi. You’re strong, clever, and so, so beautiful.” He lets out a soft huff of a laugh. It’s then she notices the faint pink dusting his cheeks. “You’re so perfect, Yoongs, and… I love you.”

Yoongi doesn’t remember saying anything. The next thing she can recall is closing the gap between them to kiss him heatedly, her hands sliding up his chest to grab at his shoulders. He returns the kiss, one hand curving around her tiny waist, the other still cradling her cheek.

When they break apart, Yoongi rests her forehead against his, smiling brightly. “I love you too, Jay.”

He shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Real name’s Jaebeom,” he murmurs, “Call me that.”

That draws a giggle from her and makes him smile fondly at her. “Okay, Jaebeom.”It’s perfect, holding each other while they bask in the heat of the fire and the beauty of a new relationship. Absolutely perfect.

“You’re kidding, right?” Yoongi gripes as she glares at Sunghwa from the passenger seat of the the car. He had caught her in the short stretch she had to walk through midtown to get back to her neighborhood. “What, do you guys get extra brownies points or some shit for bringing me to him?”

“Only when things change,” Sunghwa says with a shrug. “You dyed your hair again. He’s gonna wanna see it.” Yoongi grumbles about just sending him a picture, which just makes Sunghwa scoff. “Like you’d actually send him a picture.” He shakes his head, turning left onto the road leading to the house. “You changed... both of you did.”

Yoongi closes her eyes at that statement. After what happened, she had pretty much bailed on the rest of the guys, eager to put as much distance as she could from anything to do with Jay. “That’s what people do,” she answers softly, no heat behind the statement.

Just like Kiseok yesterday, Sunghwa pulls up to the curb of the cul-de-sac to let her get out. She walks slowly up to the gate, hoping to hear the car drive off. No such luck. She sighs, shooting Sunghwa a bird without looking back.

She hesitates in the foyer once she’s inside, carefully pulling off her heels. If Sunghwa’s out on the streets, Jay’s not meeting with potentials. Realistically, he should be in the living roo-

“You dyed your hair.”

She looks up at the stairs. Jay’s slowly descending, looking like he just woke up. His hair is sticking up on one side, the rest is just a ruffled mess. He’s not wearing a shirt, but has on loose sweats. Yeah, he definitely just woke up. Sunghwa probably texted him to tell him Yoongi was here.

“Yeah, I did,” she answers, crossing her arms over her chest, taking a step back as he reaches the floor. “Have a job interview tomorrow and they only accept natural colors.”

Jay frowns, mumbling ‘that was fast’ before he studies her, his frown deepening slightly. “It’s better than the silver,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head. His other hand moves up to cover his mouth as he yawns. “Should’ve went back to black though.”

“Okay, you saw I dyed my hair, you know I have an interview, are we done?” Yoongi questions. “I still can’t believe you have your guys swoop me up and drop me off here every time I change something.”

“Need to know you’re doing okay,” he answers softly, rubbing at one of his eyes. Oh yeah, he just woke up, all the signs are there. “Said I’d keep you safe.”

Oh. “Well-” Fuck, her voice cracks. She clears her throat before trying again. “Well, you already fucked that up, so I’m leaving now.” She turns, carefully putting her shoes back on before she heads toward the door

“Wait… Yoongs.” Shit. She doesn’t know why, she really doesn’t, but she turns around. Jay’s looking at her sadly. “Will you come around more? Without the guys forcing you?”

It’d be so easy, so easy just to run back to his arms and say everything’s okay, to pretend none of the bad things ever happened. She’s tempted to, especially when he’s like this: raw, vulnerable, soft. The side of him that only she ever got to see, not the stupid, arrogant, possessive jackass he pretends to be. The bad things did happen, though, and they outweigh the good things. “No, Jaebeom,” she answers quietly, turning back to the door and walking out. He doesn’t run after her, didn’t the first time either.

1 note · View note

writingguide003-blog · 5 years

Text

'A different way of living': why writers are celebrating middle-age

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/a-different-way-of-living-why-writers-are-celebrating-middle-age/

'A different way of living': why writers are celebrating middle-age

Viv Albertine, Deborah Levy, Lavinia Greenlaw and Rachel Cusk are redefining life after menopause, children or divorce and it has never looked so good

When Viv Albertine performs her 2009 song Confessions of a Milf live, she alternates between two voices. Theres the saccharine lisp of a brainwashed housewife chanting home sweet home, and theres the raging chant of an angry punk proclaiming that if you decide one day that youve had enough, you can walk away. Though swans and seahorses mate for life, we aint so nice.

In the 70s, when Albertine performed with her punk band, the Slits, she appeared fully immersed in her performance of exuberant anger, but also strikingly unformed, too busy bouncing and shouting to hold the gaze of her audience. Then, she retained the vulnerability of her younger self, but there was a steeliness underlying it. Now she stares out at us, no longer interested in hiding.

I chose being an artist over being a wife, the housewife sings, predicting sadly that now Im gonna lead a very lonely life. But then the punk takes the lines over and the life shes going to lead becomes very lovely. By the end the two voices have exploded into one and theres a joyfully furious torrent of wife wife wife life life life that ends with a list of the household activities that are being abandoned by the housewife and reclaimed by the artist: cooking, cleaning, baking, washing, faking, fucking, cleaning, shopping.

In her recent memoir To Throw Away Unopened, Albertine describes deciding to return to music after more than a decade as a housewife, ending her marriage as a result. In the past century of fiction, the middle-aged male protagonist has sprawled and rutted his way to a kind of bathetic greatness in the hands of Philip Roth, John Updike and Saul Bellow. The middle-aged woman has appeared far less often as a protagonist questing for a style and identity, but that is changing fast.

Enjoying the freedom that no longer being constantly looked at by men brings Viv Albertine. Photograph: Duncan Bryceland/Rex

Albertine is one of several writers this year to tackle lives that follow divorce and the menopause. Lavinia Greenlaws forthcoming novel is a middle-aged love story. Deborah Levy uses the moment of transition from one life to another to fashion a new story about femininity in her living autobiography The Cost of Living. Like Albertines, Levys career began in an era when the young insisted on their own youthfulness. Whats striking is that both writers have found a way to incarnate their middle-aged selves in new voices that dont reject the spontaneity of punk but reinvent it in a quieter yet no less vigorous form.

It was possible that femininity, as I had been taught it, had come to an end, Levy writes, tired of serene femininity and of corporate femininity. There were not that many women I knew who wanted to put the phantom of femininity together again … it is a role (sacrifice, endurance, cheerful suffering) that has made some women go mad.

The task is both to create a new life and to redefine what being a woman means. Albertine returns to singing and buys a new haphazard home for herself and her daughter. Levy discards the marital home and installs her daughters in a flat, where she mends the plumbing in her nightie and transports her groceries on a liberating electric bike. One female friend teaches her to live with colour and another provides a writing shed.

Deborah Levy discards the marital home and installs her daughters in a flat. Photograph: Sheila Burnett

For both writers, theres a particular pleasure in the physical freedom that no longer being constantly looked at by men brings. Its easy to assume, as a young woman for whom being desired matters above all else, that much will be lost when men start looking at younger women. But Levy and Albertine enjoy it when men are no longer central. I get the same lurching thrill now when Im about to sit down to an egg mayonnaise sandwich and a packet of plain crisps as I used to get when I fancied someone, Albertine remarks. Ive had two great loves: my mother and my daughter.

Albertine is here in a lineage with Germaine Greer, who published The Change in 1992 aged 53, and has recently reissued it with new material. Greer urges women to accept the changes of age. She suggests that HRT, used to minimise the symptoms of the menopause, is part of a male-centric conspiracy to contain the wisdom and rage of older women. There are positive aspects to being a frightening old woman, she writes.

Greer describes how, aged 50, she looked ahead into what seemed like winter, ice, an interminable dark. But having grieved for her younger self, she finds freedom and calm on the other side, attained through giving up on sex. Younger women might find it impossible to believe that when they are no longer tormented by desire, insecurity, jealousy they wont be as dead as a spent match, but they can look forward to a whole new realm of experience.

Beguilingly, Greer compares the difference between the clamorous feelings of the younger woman and the calmness of the apparently withdrawn older woman to the difference between how the sea appears to someone tossing on its surface, and how it looks to someone who has plunged so deep that she has felt death in her throat. The older woman can love deeply and tenderly because she loves without the desire for possession.

Free to command attention in new and more authentic ways Doris Lessing circa 1975. Photograph: Express/Getty Images

Women through the decades have claimed something of this liberation through age. When I first read Doris Lessing, I wasnt convinced by her announcement in a 1972 interview (when she was 53) that the physical changes of middle age had been one of the most valuable experiences that I personally have ever had. Now Ive come to admire her explanation that in middle age a whole dimension of life slides away, and you realise that what, in fact, youve been using to get attention has been what you look like, leaving you free to command attention in new and more authentic ways.

Lessings 1973 novel The Summer Before the Dark is a great portrayal of this moment of transition, and a book ready to be rediscovered. Kate Brown, a pretty, healthy, serviceable housewife, becomes disillusioned when her children leave home and her husband has one too many affairs. She accepts a job as a translator for an international conference, dyes her hair a sleek red and has an affair with a younger man. But its in what follows that her real discoveries are made. She becomes sick and spends weeks in a hotel, consumed by a fever that sends her deep into herself and then leaves her alone, stranded far away from her married life, curiously free. Wandering the streets in ill-fitting clothes with dishevelled hair, she discovers what it is to be ignored by men. And when she returns home, she insists on keeping her hair as it is: plain, greying, tied neatly behind her head, as Lessings was when she wrote it. Her discoveries, her self-definition, what she hoped were now strengths were concentrated here she was saying no: no, no, no, NO a statement which would be concentrated into hair.

This is a charged yet odd novel, as baggy as Kates clothes. Characters are introduced and discarded; Kate begins one phase of life after another apparently at random. One of Lessings achievements was to find a structural equivalent for the mental state of middle age. As children leave home and sexuality changes, several women describe being left with a feeling that the script they grew up with has run out. This is both frightening and exhilarating. And it opens the way for a new kind of plot.

Illustration: Nathalie Lees/Guardian

So the love stories with middle-aged women as protagonists take on a more episodic form, with love itself presented as an ambivalent prize. In 2016 there was AL Kennedys Serious Sweet, a romance between two damaged loners. And now theres Lavinia Greenlaws In the City of Loves Sleep, published next month, which offers us a story of lovers neither beautiful nor certain nor young. This is an elegantly meandering tale in which the lovers repeatedly connect only to lose interest in each other, stuck in a kind of endless middleness. Perhaps falling in love in middle age is in part the desire to experience fixity again, the narrator muses. But the drive for fixity is thwarted by the form of this novel, which is determinedly fluid, as if in search of a style appropriate for the fluidity of the middle part of life.

Levy experiments with form in The Cost of Living, discarding the traditional literary structure as she discards the marital home, and creating a memoir out of a collage of deftly interconnected fragments. Objects perform a lot of the work here, often appearing to know more than the humans who surround them. When the I no longer quests for the familiar goals of love and marriage, the authorial persona becomes a subtler figure, glimpsed through shadows. Levys bike threatens to become a major character and relegate her to a minor player, though we can see Levy winking at us as it does so, less shadowy than she might appear.

Nowhere is the narrator more occluded than in Rachel Cusks spare, strange trilogy Outline, Transit and Kudos. On one level, these are novels about a marriage ending and a woman, Faye, seeking new forms of freedom as her children move towards independence. In Outline, Faye describes herself as trying to find a different way of living in the world. But though Cusk is interested in questioning ideas of femininity, she seems most concerned with using the dissolution of familiar structures to seek a new concept of selfhood and a new structure for the novel.

By Kudos, the characters all speak in the same international voice and the narrators experiences at the hands of men are interchangeable with those of all the other divorced middle-aged women she encounters. One of these, Sophia, observes that shes coming to think that too much has been made of the distinctions between men, when at the time the whole world had appeared to depend on whether I was with one, rather than another. By this point the committed reader is coming to think something of the same about characters in general. Perhaps in all our novel reading, weve made too much of the importance of individual characters, when it turns out to be more general truths that matter.

The truths revealed here resonate with those explored by Levy and Albertine. Near the end of Kudos, Faye has a revealing encounter with a woman called Felcia, who has just lost the final battle of her marriage for custody of her car. Now, cycling exhaustedly across the city, impoverished, mocked even by her mother (Look at what all your equality has done for you), Felcia accepts that she has not found freedom by leaving him: in fact what I had done was forfeit all my rights.

Its not wholly a coincidence that a bicycle should play a central role here, as in Levy. Bikes have served as symbols of independent womanhood since the turn of the last century. Felcia, cycling around stoically, has something of Levy and Albertines doggedness and dignity in countering the assaults of the world. She hasnt gained the freedom she sought in separation, but its also clear that she couldnt have remained with a man prepared to treat her as her ex-husband does. Freedom, in all these books, becomes less of a good in itself once the struggles become primarily practical. But this doesnt invalidate the initial urge for freedom that takes these women out of their marriages. Its an urge towards a life lived in good faith, which is what all of Cusks characters are struggling in their different ways to do. The peculiarly even quality of Cusks prose doesnt just provide a literary equivalent of the middle years, it points us towards the thought that the way to act with integrity may be to relinquish the struggle for individuality, though the singularity of her style always works bracingly against this.

An urge towards a life lived in good faith Rachel Cusk. Photograph: Richard Saker for the Observer

Cusk presents us with a radical new vision of communality at this stage of life, one which asks us to consider that we dont yet know what solidarity is. This takes us back to Levy, guided in her new life by her female friends, and to Albertine, accepting that the love that means most is the love of women. And it opens up the question of feminism.

Greers suggestion in The Change is that men have been denying women the right to a quietly sex-free middle age in championing HRT. In this context, the acceptance of middle age becomes a feminist act, and the same seems to have been true for Lessing in 1973, whatever her crotchety scepticism about womens lib. Certainly Kates rage in The Summer Before the Dark is rage at men who have told her she will be fulfilled by appealing to their lust. It was a rage, it seemed to her, that she had been suppressing for a lifetime. This is a woman poised to explode into Albertines cries of wife wife wife life life life.

Its significant that the women Albertine has loved most are her mother and daughter. The death of Albertines mother is a central event in her book, as Levys mothers is in hers, offering one form of feminist connection. Albertine describes learning her rage at the patriarchy from her mother. Dont ever give the biggest slice of cake to a man, you take it for yourself! she informed her daughters. And now in middle age, Albertine feels that she is turning into her mother. I can see [the patriarchy], I can hear it, I can feel it, and Im burning up because of it. Levy, looking back with love on the war between myself and my mother, quotes the US writer and activist Audre Lorde: I am a reflection of my mothers secret poetry as well as of her hidden angers.

Read alongside the reflections on the death of the old forms of femininity, this allows the older generation of women to have a voice in the poetry and anger of the present. And Lorde herself is a mother figure for these writers; the essays collected in last years posthumous collection Your Silence Will Not Protect You have something of the energy of punk. Im saying that we must never close our eyes to the terror, she told Adrienne Rich in an interview when in her 40s, recovering from breast cancer and reconstructing her sense of herself in middle age. At this point it seemed vital to attend to the chaos which is black which is creative which is female which is dark which is rejected which is messy which is sinister, smelly, erotic, confused, upsetting.

The erotic is significant here, connected as it is to the dark and the messy. The role of the erotic in middle age troubles many of these writers. Greenlaws Iris finds that the rigmarole of undressing for sex with a new lover feels like a foolish masquerade: They are two middle-aged people trying to persuade themselves into sex on a Sunday afternoon. Things improve when they forget about surfaces and allow themselves something more diffuse. But if Lessing and Greer advise abandoning sex altogether, Lorde insists that the erotic remains key to everything. This is no longer the young girl taking pleasure in being looked at by men. In Lordes hands the erotic transcends narcissism and patriarchy and becomes the force that binds our sense of self with the chaos of our strongest feelings. This is a force that connects women to each other and perhaps especially to their mothers. Lorde advised all women to listen to the black mother within them, who she believed countered Descartes with: I feel, therefore I can be free. It seems all the more appropriate that Levy should think of Lorde in mourning her own mother.

Yet this is not a simple tale of freedom-seeking daughters realising their mothers hopes for a better world. Theres a disillusionment, too, because if feminism has now become mainstream, theres a danger of it becoming an accoutrement of a society that hasnt changed in the ways that the feminists of the 1960s and 70s hoped it would. This is presented as clearly not good enough. If the news upsets me I just switch it off, sings the housewife in Albertines song. But what more can she do in her angrier punk incarnation? Is it better to watch the news? To sing and write about it? Is this a necessary component of the freedom of the middle-aged woman? And will it help her feel more free or just enable her to be committedly feminist as she seeks her freedom?

Freedom and calm on the other side Germaine Greer. Photograph: Yui Mok/PA

The answer may lie partly in the complex sense of the communal evoked by all these writers. Arguably, its more necessary than ever to form communities of insight and sensitivity situated determinedly within the realm of feminism. Whats compelling in these books is that other more uncanny lines of affiliation can coexist with this. Its important that Albertine remains connected to punk, Levy to surrealism and psychoanalysis, Cusk to particular strands of European high modernism.

But we search in vain if we turn to these books for answers, partly because these writers are more interested in asking questions, and partly because they are too singular, and too defiant, to tell us what to do. Greer ends by announcing that though younger people anxiously inquire, and researchers tie themselves in knots with definitions, the middle-aged woman is about her own business, which is none of theirs. Women come racing up from behind, asking how to negotiate the next phase. But were not going to learn much because, Greer says, the middle-aged woman is climbing her own mountain, in search of her own horizon, after years of being absorbed in the struggles of others. The ground is full of bumps, the air is thin and her bones ache. Nonetheless, the ascent is worth it, however baffling it may seem to others. Greer exhorts her middle-aged readers not to explain or apologise. The climacteric marks the end of apologising. The chrysalis of conditioning has once and for all to break and the female woman finally to emerge.

Lara Feigel is the author of Free Woman: Life, Liberation and Doris Lessing (Bloomsbury).

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

0 notes

mindasvastasspace · 6 years

Text

Reunion with Mom, pt 1 (self para)

Boarding the plane, Kylar’s mind was racing with so many scenarios of how things were going to work out the moment he stepped off the plane and reunited with his mother. Given their...colorful...past together, he’d been hesitant to even bother to show up this year for Christmas, seeing as she’s been one of the main sources of his childhood traumas he’d had the burden of bearing his entire life. But he’d sensed a change in her over the past month or so, over texts and phone calls to one another—as if she’d finally realized that he was her SON. Her family. Her one child she’d been given to as a miracle. That change is what had convinced Kylar to come back home for the holidays. If they hadn’t been talking and getting a better understanding of each other over the past month, Kylar would’ve stayed in Florida, or taken Mason up on his offer to go to Canada for Christmas. After getting off the plane, he sent his mom a quick text to let her know he’d landed safely and headed right down to baggage claim to grab his now-overly stuffed luggage, thanks to his shopping and “father-son”bonding weekend he’d had worth Gerard (who at this point was a better father than his own flesh and blood.) He’d planned out to meet his mother around baggage claim, so he picked a spot where he’d be easy to find, set his suitcase down and played around on his phone for a while, texting his friends to let them know he was okay, and to the few he trusted explained how he was actually feeling, considering the situation. Nervous, anxious, happy and excited; all lumped into one emotion he honestly had no idea how to categorize. But it was making him antsy. Completely on edge. Enough to have him standing with one hand in his pocket and playing with his fidget cube and typing with the other. After a few more minutes, he heard a familiar voice calling his name, and felt his heart freeze.

“Kylar!!” He looked around, not knowing where that voice was coming from. He felt his heart racing faster, the fight or flight reaction he got every time he spoke to his mother once again taking over his body. If he ran, he could easily get away. But no. He had to face his fears. He wanted things to change between them. When he finally saw her, his jaw dropped.

His mother looked completely different. Her hair was more tame, was what he first noticed. It wasn’t the way-too-perfectly sculpted, Christian stepford wife do up she’d always had that he’d been so used to seeing. It was dyed blonde, straightened, and honestly framed her face very well. Instead of pastel sweaters and slacks, she was in a nice red pea coat and black leggings, a white scarf around her neck and tucked into her jacket, with a matching beanie on her head. She looked like a completely different person. Enough for Kylar to not even recognize her at first.

“M-Mom...?” He spoke slowly, pocketing his phone and bit his lip. Her smile was the same it’d always been, and that was what made him realize it was actually her. “H...hi, I didn’t even recognize you.”

“Ky...” she walked a little closer, unsure as to go in for a hug or not. They’d never been that close.

“Yes, Hi, Mom. It’s me. Your gay son. Hello.” Kylar said flatly, pocketed his phone, slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase. “You look different. Can we go now?”

“Kylar. I know what you’re thinking and we have a lot to talk about—“

“You have no idea what I’m thinking right now, honestly. Im cold, Im tired and hungry and I just wanna get home, okay?” He paused, realizing he might be being a little too harsh. “I’m sorry, I’m just. This is really, really hard hard for me, Mom. But I’ll tone it down. I don’t wanna be angry right now. You really do look great.”

“I know. I get it. And, um. Thanks.” She smiled back, seeming like she took the compliment to heart. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”

He followed her to the car, without another word, lost inside his own thoughts. He knew he had every right to be heartless to her, but that’s just not who he was at all. He did have a grudge and a lifetime of resentment towards her, but. It just wasn’t in him to be so cold. He literally did not have the capability to be angry for more than a few minutes at a time. The last time he saw his mom was on his 21st birthday, where she was nowhere near in control of herself. She’d always seemed fine on the outside, what with the usual church-lady attire and bright sunny demeanor. But when it came to her son she’d always been nasty. Verbally abusive, cold, and ignorant. Completely unaware of the abuse she’d been dealing him his entire life, always hopped up on pills and downing booze the moment the clock hit noon. But now she seemed like a completely different person, and Kylar didn’t know how to process that. Was she just fooling him? Manipulating him to try and get him back? Or was she actually in this with his best interest in mind? He had no idea, and that was part of the reason why he’d been so nervous and anxiety ridden ever since his trip back to Chicago had been set in stone.

The car ride back was, for lack of a better word, awkward. He didn’t speak, his words still spinning around in his head every time he tried to grasp at something to say. She didn’t speak either, so between the radio and the sound of the road under them, it’d been pretty silent. The house looked all-too-familiar once they parked by the curb, and again, Kylar felt that surge of anxiety course through him. This was the house that he’d spent his senior year in, the old, run down little townhouse in the heart of south side Chicago that he’d tried to forget about the past two years. The scene of the crime, he thought. This relic of the past was the last thing he’d looked at before he packed up and left. Part of him regretted it, but the bigger one knew it’d been the right thing to do at the time. But here he was now, nearly 3 years later, and it looked exactly the same as it always had. Old, run down windows, slightly peeling paint on the sidings, and a short flight of run down stairs leading up to the barely-crooked front door. As he got out of the car, he looked up at the top left window, the one he’d snuck out of so many times in the past. A tiny remnant of the makeshift rope ladder he’d crafted years before was still visible hanging off of the windowsill. Seeing that made him smile a bit. A smile which faded away the moment he remembered why he’d snuck out countless times in the middle of the night.

I have to see him while I’m here,he thought. His ex. The one person he knew that was in town that never judged him for who he was. Dean was coming back in a few days, but until then? Nobody. He’d promised he would meet up with his ex, since they were still extremely close and obviously still had strong feelings for each other. but that was a whole different train of thought Kylar forced himself to log away for now. After taking a slow, deep breath to calm himself, he walked up the rickity steps, careful to avoid the rotted wood on the third step up and waited for his mom to open the door, expecting to see the same old, far-too-clean OCD interior he’d been so familiar with growing up.

“Welcome home.” His Mom said, opening the door for him and let him step inside first. He watched his feet as he crossed the threshold, stopping in his tracks the moment he looked up. The house was somewhat the same, with furniture in the same exact places and the stairs leading upstairs to his right. But something felt different—he couldn’t quite place it, but it felt more homey. Less stepford kind of creepy. His mom had apparently decorated before he got there, with tinsel and multicolored lights lining the hand rail of the stairs, christmassy decorations hanging on the walls and scattered around the kitchen and living room. She actually had a tree for once, which was new to him. All they ever could afford before was skimpy, run down spruce trees that nobody else would buy from the lots but this? This was a real, tall pine tree, the aroma coming from it somewhat soothing to Kylar.

“Wow...you went all out didn’t you?” He offered a smile, this one actually genuine. She returned it with a nod as she took off her jacket and hung it next to the door.

“Eh, it’s nothing really.” She replied. One of the phrases Kylar had inherited. “I just wanted you to feel welcomed back. Since , well.” She huffed. “it’s been a while.”

“Yeah....” Kylar silently replied. “So I’m gonna go put my stuff in my room. I’ll be back down in a bit.” Without waiting for a reply, he hopped up the stairs by two and walked down the hall to his old bedroom, not surprised that a single picture of him was on the walls. He expected that. But what he didn’t expect was that his room had looked exactly the same as it did when he’d up and left. The band posters on the walls, anime action figures lining the shelves where he could fit them between his books; his sewing machine against the wall and the vinyl record player in the corner next to his TV...everything had been preserved exactly like it was before. Even his sheets were the same black and grey striped ones, just washed for once and neatly tucked under the bed. His little Stitch doll was even still on his pillow, exactly how he’d left it.

“Hey, Stitch...” he couldn’t help but smile as he dropped his suitcase on the floor and went to sit on his bed, put the Stitch doll in his lap and played with the oversized ears. Looking over it, he saw the stain on the doll’s hand from when he’d spilled black dye on it when he’d changed his hair. There were some good memories in here, he thought, and once he realized that, he actually felt glad he’d come back home. Fighting back some tears, he set Stitch back down and took out his phone, laid down on his neatly made bed and texted back some friends, letting them know how he was doing. Because he honestly was, deep down. Still a little anxious, but less so now that he was in his safe space. The one room in the house he couldn’t be touched or hurt in. Halfway through replying to Olly, he remembered something. He set his phone down, shifted to look under the bed and blindly reached around until he pulled out a cardboard box, and immediately felt a huge grin form.

“Oh my god...” he said aloud, pulling the box out a little more before picking it up to put in his lap. all this old, prototype, amateur photography was still in here. All the Polaroids of him and his friends from Detroit before he moved, along with old ones with him and Dean. A million of himself and his ex, which was a pretty harsh sting to the heart. and some of his friends from Chicago as well. That really hit him hard, and he couldn’t stop the tears this time and just started sobbing, enough to have to set the box aside as to not ruin the memories of his past and just let the tears fall. Hearing his mom coming up the stairs, he quickly sat up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, smiled, and looked up right as she walked into the doorway. He figured she knew how he was feeling, seeing as she didn’t ask questions.

“Um. I made some cocoa if you want some?” she smiled. Kylar nodded and wiped his eye of a stray tear, smiling back.

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be down in a minute.” He replied. She nodded, and he stopped her as she turned to leave. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” She turned back, almost with a hopeful look on her face.

“Thank you...for letting me come back. I know we weren’t on the best of terms and we still aren’t exactly but—”

“Kylar, shh. You don’t have to say another word. You’re welcome, honey.” He looked up at her. She’d never in his life called him that before. Admittedly, that did make him feel a little warm inside. Standing up, he hugged his arm to himself and bit his lip, as if not knowing what else to say at the moment. Before he knew it, he felt himself practically falling forward, unable to control his body and hugged his mother for the first time in years, the tears escaping him once again.

“Fuck, I’m. I’m s-sorry I left. I’m so f-fucking sorry...Mom. I just felt so trapped, and hurt, and unwanted and I thought you hated me and I didn’t know what else to d-do and, and—” He managed to let out a jumbled stream of words before he could even think about what he was saying. Feeling her hug him back made the tears fall even harder, a small wail and a deep inhale escaping him.

“shhhh just take a deep breath.” His Mom replied, somehow a lot calmer than he was. Like she had had plenty of time to think of exactly what to say. “you have nothing to be sorry for. You did exactly what you should have done.” she pulled him away so she could get a good look at his face, holding his head in her hands, tears forming in her eyes as well. The same big, brown eyes she’d given to her son. “I’ve been absolutely awful to you. Horrid. And beyond wretched and unfair. There’s not even a word for how horribly I’ve treated you and it. It took you leaving for me to realize that.” Kylar was speechless, and could only respond with another gasp for air and a nod, hugging her tighter. “There’s nothing in this world I can do to ever, ever make up for the things I’ve done. The things I’ve said to you. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to try, baby. I love you. You’re my son. My only son. and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that, Kylar. I can’t change who you are. I never should have tried. And I’m proud of you. Im so fucking proud of you.” Kylar let out another muffled sob against her shoulder. “And I know sorry doesn’t mean anything, I know that....” all those words were exactly what he needed to hear. What he’d waited for her to say for the last decade. She’d been emotionally manipulative in the past to have things go her way but this. This was different. something resonated in her tone for him to realize that she most likely did mean every word she said. And that meant the world to him. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after years of it constantly being there, keeping him down and burdening him.

After a couple more minutes, Kylar finally collected himself and let her go, smiled sheepishly and wiped his hands over his face.

“God, I probably look like a mess...” he managed a haughty laugh, sniffling quietly as he wiped his eyes dry. “That cocoa sounds really good about now.”

“Awww...” his mom ruffled his hair, just like she’d always done when he was a kid. But this time it wasn’t menacing. It was actually a comforting gesture for once. “C’mon. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” With another sniffle, Kylar nodded and let her lead the way downstairs.

Over multiple mugs of cocoa, his mom got Kylar up to speed. After he’d left, she’d been upset. All the calls he ignored from her, the unanswered texts and emails...it had taken her a long time to realize just how her son had felt, but when it did hit her, it hit her hard. She realized without him, she was completely alone. Her husband had walked out on them a year prior to Kylar leaving, and got together with a younger woman. Whom she’d found out he’d been cheating on her with for the last couple years. Kylar had seen that one from a mile away and even commented, into a drink of cocoa, “fucking called it.” After that realization of hers, she’d turned to the church and found Jesus, as she always did. Kylar wasn’t religious at all, so he kind of tuned out at that part of her story and let his mind wander as he half-listened, half processed what was actually happening. She prayed, begged for forgiveness, and started on her own journey of personal reflection and reformation. She quit drinking, stopped downing Xanax like candy and changed her appearance,ultimately becoming a better version of herself. And when she was finally satisfied with that, got back in touch with her son and insisted he come home for Christmas. Kylar let her talk with no interjections besides the occasional “asshole” and “dickless fucktard” when his father was mentioned, each time gripping his mug a little tighter. Ultimately, they had a nice, lengthy chat, catching each other up on their lives. This was probably the most meaningful conversation they’d ever had between the two of them, and for once it didn’t end in a huge argument and him storming off upstairs to hole himself away and dissociate. He told her about Florida, and school, and hid new apartment. About how close he was to Magic Kingdom, and how he’d scored his job at the studio thanks to a very, very close friend of his he considered a sister he’d never had. He told her about all his other new friends he’d made, famous or not, and now he was tight with the “emo guy from fall out boy” and the “eccentric artist of my chemical romance”. Both of which she was in awe of, seeing as they were all he talked about all through his teenage years. He still had posters of both of them up on the walls of his bedroom and had no intentions of ever taking them down.

“My, my, my little boy’s all grown up.” She smiled at him. Kylar just shrugged and took another drink of cocoa.

“Eh.” He replied. “Where it counts I guess.I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing half the time.”

“Uh huh. You still doing that, um. Cos...play? Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah, what you used to call glorified dress up. Remember? You said that any hack could do it because it’s the same as Halloween?” He replied with every amount of sass he could possibly put into words. He could see the pain in her face as she heard that and it was, admittedly, satisfying to see. His smirk proved that.

“Yeah...that. I don’t even remember saying that.”

“It’s okay, Mom. You’re not the only one that thinks it’s weird and a waste of time. But it’s fun, and elaborate, if you wanna make something that means something to you. And it takes a lot more effort than you think. You should see some of the stuff I’m working on now. Been sewing and drawing them out for weeks now.”

“I would love to.” She smiled back, nodding. That response made him feel pretty good.

“Cool. My friend Olly took some pictures of me as Sora at Disneyworld so I can dig those up and show you later?”

“Sounds great, Ky.”

“Cool.” He felt another smile grace across his face. “Listen, um. I’m exhausted, it’s been a long week and I’ve cried more the past few days than I have in months so I really need to sleep for a while. But we can talk some more later? Grab some lunch?” He got up from the table as he spoke, rinsed out his mug and set it in the dishwasher and started headed toward the stairs, stopping on the first one as his mom responded.

“Of course. I did promise you ice skating, after all.”

“Oh yeah, no, I didn’t forget about that. You’ve got like two years to catch up on, Mom.”

“I know. We’ll get there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we will.” Kylar nodded, smiling to hold back another wave of emotions and headed back upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he stood in place for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around what an emotional, eventful morning it had been, and finally found it in himself to flop down, face first, into his bed, and cuddled up with his beloved Stitch.

“It’s gonna be okay, little guy.” He said aloud, hugging the doll tightly. Within minutes, he was fast asleep, with a single tear slowly trailing down his cheek.

0 notes