eleven years!

Google Doodle celebrating the birthday of lighthouse keeper Ida Lewis (1842-1911).

There are no definitive records of Ida’s rescues and she was too modest to recount them herself, though some were documented in local newspapers and at least one garnered national attention; in February of 1881 she ventured into the bitter winter winds to rescue two soldiers who had fallen through the ice while traveling on foot. This act of bravery caught the attention of President Grant who shortly thereafter awarded her the prestigious Gold Lifesaving Medal. Eleven years after her death, the Rhode Island legislature voted to rename her former home, Lime Rock Lighthouse, as Ida Lewis Lighthouse in her honor.

-Lydia Nichols, Doodle artist

Stranger Kids 2

Let’s think about the pink dress Eleven wears and how it used to belong to Nancy.

Imagine eleven-year-old Nancy Wheeler wearing that pink dress with white buckle-up shoes to church on Sunday morning with her family and, after the service, being dropped off at the Byers’s place to play with Jonathan while the Wheelers take Will home for the afternoon.

Imagine Nancy and Jonathan chasing the Byers’s dog, Bilbo, out in front of the house, Nancy’s pink dress getting dirty when Bilbo clumsily bounds towards her and jumps onto her, overexcited, causing her to fall backwards. Jonathan is super apologetic and offers help her clean the mud off her dress (which she looks so pretty in) but Nancy just laughs and insists they keep playing.

They pass a good portion of the afternoon giggling and telling jokes, imagining that Bilbo is a terrifying monster they have to catch, and snacking on the hotdogs Joyce brings outside to them (Nancy spills some mustard on her dress and laughs again). But then a black car comes barrelling down the dirt road and Jonathan’s heart sinks. Lonnie.

He and Nancy freeze in the middle of their game of tag, forgetting who was it. Nancy knows what this means. Jonathan always sends her away when Lonnie comes over. She can’t help the frown that catches her lips, nor can she stop herself from grabbing his hand and tugging at him. “Come with me,” she insists. Jonathan refuses. He always does. “I have to be here for my mom,” he tells her, as Lonnie steps out of the car.

Nancy runs all the way home and slams the front door as she enters her house. It’s not fair things are so normal for her while Jonathan has to be sad. Karen meets her in the entryway and takes one look at her pink dress before sending her upstairs to change. Without a word, Nancy marches to her bedroom. She flops onto her bed, not caring about the mud and mustard stains on her dress, and clutches the phone to her chest, crying. She waits for Jonathan to call and tell her that everything is okay. He always does.

I wanted to have some dialogue snippet in the picture regarding to how nobody pronounces her name right, but my attempts all sounded a little too articulated to be coming out of an eleven year old.

 The pronunciation of Nelle with a long “e” at the end sounds positively bohemian to me. I figured people would get the jist since there’s a big pile of structurally identical names that utilize the silent “e” on the end, like Belle and Michelle and Elle and of course the ever popular Chanterelle mushroom. The only long “e” I’ve heard at the end of a name is in the case of Bette Davis… And that sounded like something that would qualify as a Hollywood marketing stunt in the thirties.

 But Nelle for some reason is a singular magical exception to the French influence on our name pool. Even Nelle Harper Lee, the author of that one book… has that disgusting, inelegant “e” sound poking out at the end of her pronunciation. I bet she shortened her pen name to exclude Nelle because she knew it sounded farty.

But I guess that after fifteen years I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve done a terrible thing and invented my own special pronunciation of a common name for laymen to trip over.

Well I suppose this will just be something for her character to struggle with as a child.

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

It seemed that no matter what that Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is a Jedi Master and a General in an ongoing civil war throughout the galaxy, had a rather unlucky habit of losing those he cared about or for.

Honestly, I should have expected this, he sighed as he continued down the temple hallways during the bustling of younglings during a day full of lessons, She is so very small, I should have expected I’d have a hard time finding her in the crowds. So much for trying to surprise her with my return. He had it planned, but he arrived to the learning halls a bit behind schedule and, alas, he hadn’t been at the class of his tiny eleven-year old padawan before it had been released.

And thus, he lost her before even finding her! It was hard to surprise someone when there’s a chance they’d see you before you saw them.

One of the few times in my life I’m actually the tallest of those around is the one time I wish not to be.
The ginger male huffed a sigh. His spirits soon lifted, however, as he seemed to spot his padawan—long and brown ponytail, and tan-scale padawan clothes—kneeling down and adjusting one of her brown boots. She also was not facing towards him, so that meant he could have a chance to still surprise her after all.

He got to her just as she stood, turning around, raising her face to look ahead of herself… and both were equally shocked. He with raised eyebrows and she with a yelp of shock as the tablet she had in her hands went flying into the air.

Obi-Wan stared, dumbfounded, as the girl who was most certainly not his padawan scrambled while stumbling backwards to catch her tablet before it crashed to the ground. She did manage to catch it, but the poor thing almost went head first into the ground but thankfully he managed to fall out of his partially frozen state just in time to catch her.

“I am sorry, young one. I did not mean to startle you–” with steadying hands on her shoulders he made sure the girl was alright, looking over her feet to make sure she hadn’t harmed them in her stumbling– “I thought you were my padawan and, well, I was trying to surprise her with my homecoming. It was my mistake.” His apology was genuine despite his confusion as he watched the girl straighten out her tunics.

It shouldn’t have been possible though. The man pondered, slight crease furrowing his brows. It’s easy to mistake physical features, sure, but the sensation of Force Aura shouldn’t have been possible to mistake. It was true. His and her student’s teaching bond was not always opened, so they relied on aura sensation to find each other once he returned home from the Temple. He had done that reaching, the signature dim in response but he figured she may have been practicing her shielding as she was often to do by cause of her empathy that otherwise easily overwhelmed her. How did-?


“It’s alright, Master Kenobi. I should have been paying attention to my surroundings.” The girl’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, causing his focus to return to her as she bowed low in greeting, “I am Padawan Gensen, and I have to say it’s a nice surprise to get to meet you in person.” She rose back up, smiling at him and he felt his lips return the grin.

He nodded his head in return with a grin still in place, “It is nice to meet you as well, young padawan. Is Gensen your first or last name, young one? If we are to meet again I would hate to accidentally speak in a familiar manner.”

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


He had known that there was another sensitive born of that planet in the Temple whom was an infant in the Creche, but he hadn’t ever realized that there was another from there who seemed close in age to Edie. “Truly? Well that is something. My padawan is from there as well.” In the back of his mind gear were working, he moment away from asking the young one who her Master might be so he could try to arrange training sessions for the girls together so they could interact with someone of the same birth culture.

His mental rambling were once more cut off, however, by the girl’s voice, “Your padawan that you mistook me for?”

He nodded.

“Long brown hair, pale skin, short, and a bit foofy just like me?”

Foofy? He had not heard that term used before, and the longer he looked at her similarities seem more so almost in more than just appearance, for there was an exuberance in her signature and he noted the pitch of her voice was a little deeper than Edie’s. So with an arched eyebrow he nodded his head once more, his mind beginning to wander back to how it shouldn’t be possible to mistake a Force Signature you’re familiar to with someone not the owner.

For the third time, his mental wanderings on the oddity were once more interrupted by the short girl—a small handful of inches taller than Edie by reaching his shoulder rather than his chest—as Gensen puckered out her lips slightly, nodding, and then took a step toward him.

“If you still want to surprise her, Master Kenobi…..” The girl reached out her hands, looking up at him for permission before putting one small hand on his forearm, the other on his middle back, and nudging at him to turn.

(It was out of decorum, sure, but he found himself endeared by the seemingly natural, good-nature sass and playfulness in the action.)

“….Then I think you still have the chance. That is her, right?” He was indeed staring at his padawan in the short distance, her back to him much like Gensen’s was and though the back of his mind began pondering on the odd similarities once more, he smiled on the outside in genuine glee


“Yes, it certainly is!” He could not mask his joy at all and her turned, about to thank the padawan he had startled and, perhaps, request if he’d like to meet Edie—they were born of the same world, after all—but she was… already gone. Lost off into the crowds and slipped away from sight. His brows furrowed as he found that unusual. It wasn’t a common occurrence that any youngling, no matter their ranking in the Order, would walk away form a Master or a Knight without properly excusing themselves.

“Master!!”
The excited voice, one he knew this time, pulled him form a fourth mental revere and he beamed as he soon found himself receiving a tight, warm hug around his middle from his tiny padawan. They had recently gotten to such a level of physical affection that she was comfortable with and, well, no one could blame him for this hug being the longest they’ve shared so far; he had been gone almost a month. So he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and the other hand he rested on the top of her head.

“Hello there, padawan mine. I hope you don’t mind my choosing to surprise you over messaging you that I was returning slightly early?” At the exuberant ‘Of course not, Master!’ he felt his smile widen more.


He quickly fell into focus on nothing but his padawan, for he only had two days planet-side before he’d have to leave for his next shipping. It wasn’t until those two days passed and that he was a few hours into traveling away from Coruscant—the mixed troopers of the 212th and 501st socializing, roughhousing, and taking bets on Anakin and Ahsoka’s silly competitions and duels—that he recalled that meeting with a girl who reminded him, in essence and appearance, of his tiny student.

Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant with Anakin and Ahsoka less than two weeks later and were due to be home for several weeks. However, no matter how many times he walked Edie to and from her classes in the padawan-section of the schooling area of the Temple… he never saw that girl, Padawan Gensen, again.


Quite possible she and her Master were shipped out. He rationalized, not noticing the ping of negativity the Force sent his way as he, his former padawan, his current padawan, and his former-padawan’s-current-padawan headed out into the nightlife of Coruscant to go to Rex’s diner.

He decided that if he ever managed to catch sight of the girl again he’d try and arrange a meeting for the two girls then but, if not, he wouldn’t dwell on it.


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

One time when I was like 11 I was talking about some sort of theoretical battle or fight or something with my dad and I offhandedly mentioned something like, really basic and easy to figure out, like how having the high ground is advantageous, and he became convinced that I, an eleven year old, had read The Art Of War

i picked up a new class of year sevens today and i was writing on the board (in very illegible overly loopy cursive) and one girl was like “miss rose, i think you’re a very similar person to your handwriting” and i was like “why do you think that sweetheart?” and she was like “it’s very pretty but a lot of it is just unnecessary”

and can i just say i don’t think i’ve ever been dragged that hard in my life let alone by an eleven year old

harry potter rated by mentions of goats
  • philosopher’s stone: mentioned that a bezoar can be obtained from the stomach of a goat which would be pretty solid except its mentioned in the context of snape being a dick to some eleven year olds. the goats didn’t give up their magic healing kidney stones for this. 3/10
  • chamber of secrets: no mentions. 0/10
  • prisoner of azkaban: no mentions. 0/10
  • goblet of fire: both karkaroff and young dumbledore are described as having goatees, a type of facial hair that, unless you’re idris elba or brad pitt or someone, is probably best left to goats. first mention of my main man aberforth and his fondness for goats, though unfortunately phrased in a way that convinced half the readers he fucked a goat. 5/10
  • order of the phoenix: a nice bit foreshadowing in which the hogs head smells like goats. unfortunately, there’s also a mention of the giants eating dead goats. a harrowing image. -5/10
  • half-blood prince: harry reads the half-blood prince’s tip about bezoars and with some truly stunning information retention, remembers what snape said about them being an antidote to most poisons + coming from the stomach of a goat in their first ever potions lesson. i am so proud of him. harry uses this totally unprecedented feat of academic success to flunk out on doing any actual work and piss off hermione. worth noting that harry also uses a bezoar to save ron’s life, begging the question, would the wizarding world be ruled by voldemort and all of our faves be dead if it wasn’t for goats? the answer is yes. a monumental achievement for goats everywhere. we owe them so much. 20/10
  • deathly hallows: aberforth and his fondness for fiddling with goats returns. he apparently throws goat dung at people in times of stress- what a guy. a goat patronus saves the day by looking kinda like a stag if you squint a bit. aberforth reminisces about feeding the goats with ariana. a touching, bittersweet moment. all around a pretty good time for goats. 10/10
  • What she says: I'm fine
  • What she wants to say: I wanted to tell you one story. Uh. This is the story of the best meal I’ve ever had in my life, okay. Happened when I was eleven years old in Chicago, IL where I grew up. I went to a place called the Salt & Pepper Diner, uh, with my best friend John. We walk into the diner one day, and they had a jukebox there, okay? And the jukebox was three plays for a dollar. So we put in 7 dollars and selected 21 plays of of Tom Jones’s What’s New Pussycat. And then we ordered and waited.
  • Here’s the thing about when, uh, What’s New Pussycat plays over and over and over and over and over again. The second time it plays, your immediate thought is not ‘hey someone’s playing What’s New Pussycat again.’ It’s ‘hey, What’s New Pussycat is a lot longer than I first thought. The third time it plays you’re thinking maybe someone’s playing What’s New Pussycat again. The fourth time it plays you’re either thinking ‘whoa someone just played What’s New Pussycat FOUR TIMES or at least someone played it twice, and it’s a really long song.’ So the fifth time is the kicker, alright?
  • Now, John and I we’re watching the entire diner at this point, alright? Most people have gotten wind as to what’s going on. And we’re staring at this one guy and he’s sitting in like a booth with his stupid kids jumping around, and he’s like staring at his coffee cup like this, and he’s been onto us since the beginning. And he’s sitting there, and his hand is shaking, and he had this look on his face like, aw, like he had just gotten his thirty day chip from anger management. And he’s staring like this, and the fourth song fades out. It’s dead quiet. Then, I don’t know if you know this, but the song begins very quietly…
  • BWAAAH BWAAAAAH WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT and he goes GOD DAMN IT and pounds on the table, silverware flies everywhere, and it was fantastic. But a word about my best friend John and what a genius he was because when we first walked into the diner, okay? When we first got there and I’m punching in the What’s New Pussycats alright? I’ve punched in like 7 at this point then John says to me ‘hey hey hey before you punch in another What’s New Pussycat let’s drop in one It’s Not Unusual.’
  • Oh yes. That is when the afternoon went from good to great. After seven What’s New Pussycats. In a row - It played seven times. Suddenly - Dum da dum, IT’S NOT UNUSUAL and the sigh of relief that swept through the diner. People were so happy. It was like the liberation of France. You know for years scientists have wondered can you make grown men and women weep tears of joy by playing Tom Jones’s It’s Not Unusual and the answer is yes you can. Provided that it is preceded by seven What’s New Pussycats. It’s true. Dead honest.
  • And on the other hand. When we went back. Holy shit. It’s Not Unusual fade out. It’s dead quiet. BWAAAH BWAAAAH WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT people went insane. People went out of their minds. No one could handle it. No one could handle it. And they were surrounded by this seemingly indifferent staff that was just like ‘yup some crap as always.’
  • They unplugged the jukebox after eleven plays. And that was the best meal I ever had.
So if anyone was wondering what the SVSB were saying with the wrong subtitles...
  • Koko: Excuse me, but do my subtitles not match up to what I say?
  • Matt: Of course not.
  • Bruce: This isn't important now, but will be in later episodes.
  • Matt: I'm pretty sure you're not speaking coherent German.
  • James: No.

The series of interviews conducted by Dr. George Henry with lesbians in the ‘30s illustrates a contentment in the lives of many of these women that would have frazzled the censors had that picture been reflected in the media. Many of his interviewees were self-actualized individuals, living to their full potential in mutually productive relationships. They say things such as:

I’m doing the work [as an editor] I always wanted to do and I’m very, very happy. I’m very much in love with the girl too. We click… She has had the most influence for good in my life.”  — 20-year old white woman

If I were born again I would like to be just as I am. I’m perfectly satisfied being a girl and being as I am. I’ve never had any regrets.”  —  26-year-old black woman

Our relationship is just as sweet now [after eleven years] as in the beginning.”  — 29-year-old white woman

Since we have been living together our lives are fuller and happier. We create things together and we are devoted to our [adopted] baby.”  —  30-year-old white woman

I have a great confidence in the future. I think I’m going to be a very well-known artist… Homosexuality hasn’t interfered with my work. It has made it what it is.”  —  30-year-old white woman

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America, pg. 112 by Lillian Faderman

  • Walburga *about Sirius living with the Potters*: Because he’ll be back, crying for his mommy! Just like that Christmas break when we moved and I forgot to give our new address to Hogwarts! Eleven years old and bawling in that Auror’s office like a little girl. What’s that tell you?
  • Regulus: Kind of a lot, actually.