The Lost Kitten
There is actually a cat of some importance in this story, but it’s not half as lost as Masaomi is most, if not all of the time. He is an artist, of course, and cannot possible be bothered with the mundane trivialities of life. One should not bother to do things one dislikes or isn’t good at, according to his philosophy. Ah, blessed are those innocent souls who never had to actually work for a living… This attitude is also why he doesn’t cook; as a result, his diet consists entirely of Calorie 8 bars (a thinly disguised stand-in for nutritional energy bars CalorieMate), and beer.
Continue reading “Serendipity Next Door: Masaomi” →
Here’s Looking at You, Kid
Ahaha, yet again I go for the Domineering Asshole! This time, though, I have a really good feeling, and that’s mostly because I cheated. Yes. I totally went behind my own back, in a way, and read the first episode of his point of view story. I shouldn’t have, obviously, because part of the fun is always the MC’s uncertainty regarding the motives of her chosen guy. And I must admit, the reveal here in the very first bit of the first episode of his PoV is significant, so I kinda shot myself in the foot a little bit. The story is just not the same after I now know what I know. But you don’t, so it’s all good. And who knows, he might turn out to be a Prince Charming in disguise!
Continue reading “Serendipity Next Door: Jinpachi” →
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Superstar
So, I need a break from the gods of Star-Crossed Myth. Not because I don’t love them, but rather, because I love them far, far too much. It’s too much. The drama, the heartbreak, the indescribable beauty of Zyglavis. Too intense. I need some light-hearted fun. So…
So, the new guy who just moved into your apartment building right next to you is some sort of superstar. Who gets lost a lot and couldn’t cook a meal to save his life. Then there’s the wide-eyed guy from the first floor, who is our superstar’s biggest fan and gets starstruck at the sheer mention of OMI’s name. The photographer downstairs is the kind of man who, nine times out of ten when you knock on his door, will be half-naked when he opens it. Across the hall there’s the flamboyant stylist who may or may not be gay and may or may not have an intimate relationship with the building’s administrator who lives on the top floor.
Welcome to Maison Mont Blanc.
Continue reading “Serendipity Next Door” →