Domesticity Meme [Florian & Sebastian]

Who is the big spoon/little spoon – Sebastian is more prone to lying on his back in his sleep than on his side. Florian routinely waits for Sebastian to nod off before he creeps into his half of the bed and cosies up to his side.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity – Tolerating each other in long stints of silence.

Who uses all the hot water in the morning – It doesn’t matter that he regularly invades Sebastian’s abode for his own comfort, Florian will get into the bathroom first, provided he lingers for long enough.

What they order from take out – Every order inevitably turns into a debate regarding Florian’s lack of adventure when it comes to food. Every debate ends with him telling Sebastian he is more than willing to stray from the ever faithful Italian menu, provided it isn’t his money he wastes when he doesn’t finish his thai, indian, or persian dish.

What is the most trivial thing they fight over – The last cigarette in Sebastian’s current packet, which Florian instigates purely out of spite.

Who does most of the cleaning – His tendency to drop by Sebastian’s home only when it suits him lets Florian shirk any cleaning responsibilities that could be given to him, and that suits him just fine. It helps that he rarely leaves a trace of himself behind.

What has a season pass in their DVR – Neither of them care enough for sports to watch it, let alone buy a season pass to have complete access to every season game.

Who controls the netflix queue –The television provides ample background noise when Florian visits for a quiet night in. Sebastian has yet to find a show that captivates his beau. He is seldom swayed by Sebastian’s insistence that he should give show A or program B a chance, and will often return to his chosen reading material halfway through any given episode of anything.

Who calls up the landlord when the heat’s not working – Because Florian’s more abrasive approach to problems and people would not endear them to any landlord, Sebastian is forced to manage any and all negotiations.

Who steals the blankets – Florian, the selfish mite that he is, is seldom satisfied with leeching Sebastian’s body heat from him whilst he sleeps. During colder nights he’ll bundle himself up in the remainder of the duvet, to the point where, once the morning rolls around, he can barely be seen amidst the heap of covers.

Who leaves their stuff around – They form quite the tidy pair, but Florian is notorious for leaving books, cups, and jumpers around the flat when they are no longer of immediate use to him.

Who remembers to buy the milk – Florian buys only what he will use. Sebastian is far more dependable.

Who remembers anniversaries – Sebastian, who treats the relationship as something of substance, whilst Florian fails to attach much significance to it.

But I, I Refuse to Let You Go

This is a character I would love to have the opportunity to write and develop more at some point, when I find the right setting for him. As it stands, my writing folder is a graveyard of unfinished applications and pages of bulletpoints for characters who were drafted out and sadly set aside for the sake of more pressing matters. I don't want to let all that time and love go to waste by letting what I begun sit in some obscure folder for another year or so, unfinished and ignored, so I will start channelling Franz Kafka, and begin to post unfinished bits and pieces that I still love to air them out and keep this blog updated.

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Some people would give anything to be offered a second life to live. To be cleansed of the mistakes that once dogged their steps, and handed the opportunity to start afresh in a world where time is not nearly as precious or fleeting as it was in their first, flawed life. Enmadaiou Ojirowashi is not one of those people.

Thirty years of life, give or take, was more than enough for him. When the time to shuffle free from his mortal coil arrived earlier than originally scheduled, Washi looked forward to the nothing after death he firmly believed in. He was a man tired of life.

Imagine his disappointment and, more importantly, his anger when he was told that his death would not be the end of him. Things, in his opinion, never improved. Both being forced to assimilate into another alien culture, and made to leap back into a feudal life never sat well with the man. Naturally, he objected to the thought of losing his very identity—one of a handful of things about life he was not so keen to be rid of. Calling Washi bitter about his current predicament is a lot like saying the Atlantic Ocean is a bit big.

Funnily enough, Washi remains an atheist in spite of his standing as a citizen of the afterlife, mostly because the afterlife depicted by prophets, believers and their scriptures is nothing like the backwards world he now lives in. He has never been capable of entertaining the existence of deities for long. If god(s) did indeed exist, he could only contemplate two theories; they were either determined to prove to him that the afterlife was a blessing to all who were welcomed into it—a wholly narcissistic notion he could not abide—or—and he dubbed this the most believable of the two theories—they had a sense of humour blacker than charcoal.