#your wife who as she's getting older and has extra reason to be distressed about these kinds of accidents is hurt can you just be NORMAL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me."

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress.

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed.

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them. Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends.

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way. Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter.

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry.

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it.

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents.

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family.

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently.

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard.

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct.

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much.

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened.

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him.

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out.

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey.

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #lan qiren #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed spoilers #lan xichen #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed meta

374 notes · View notes

yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Me and my thots

Read on ao3

Billy didn’t black out when the first limb clamped onto his side.

He figured he would.

Figured the searing pain would cause his brain to short.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even drop when the next one hit, chomping into his other side.

He figures the adrenaline was keeping him going.

And probably the other-worldly strength from whatever bits of the creature was left in him.

All he knows is that the final one pierced his chest.

And he didn’t lose consciousness.

Not as he fell.

Not as Max hovered over him.

Not as he heard shouts, and felt hands pressing into his wounds.

He woke with a start.

He shook the dream out of his head, rolling to press both fists into his eyes.

He slid out from under the thick duvet, pulling it up and over the sleeping form of the person next to him.

Like he did every morning.

He scratched his chest, making his way over to their sunny little kitchen, getting the coffee going.

It’s been a while since he’s dreamed about the Mind Flayer.

In his thirty years since that night at the mall, he’s gotten enough therapy to break most of it down, to accept what happened to him, what he was forced without question to do.

He startled as arms slipped around his waist.

“You okay?”

Steve’s voice was sleep groggy, his chin hooked over Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. I’m alright.”

Steve placed his hand over the faded scar on Billy’s chest, kissing his shoulder blade once.

Billy turned to look at him, taking in the sparse grey hairs Steve liked to complain about, the soft lines near his eyes.

Billy sucked in a gasp of air when he woke, spluttering as his lungs burned.

He was in the hospital, his heart monitor going haywire.

Nurses flooded the room, but Billy paid them no mind, his eyes locking on the big brown ones.

Steve had pushed himself against the wall, giving the nurses room to check him over.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the mall, just knows hat Steve’s face looks hurt, old bruises turning yellow and green as they healed.

He was stabilized, and he felt more steady. His breathing still hurt, but he was doing it on his own.

The few nurses made their way out once again.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Scared me half to death.” Steve didn’t sound scared. He sounded relieved. “I was almost asleep and then you took this giant breath, Christ.”

Steve’s hands were shaking as he lowered himself into a plastic chair facing Billy’s bed.

“Sorry.”

Billy’s voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

“How long-?”

“A few weeks.” Then Steve’s face got hurt that same night.

It was odd looking at him.

He looked so young, not the face dream Billy was used to, the face of a grown man.

“Hargrove, you okay?”

And echo of that dream.

And boy did that hurt, the realization that it was a dream.

His idyllic life with Steve.

Nothing but his subconscious. Probably creating something to keep him calm while his body healed in a coma.

“Why you here?” Speaking still burned his throat. He wished he had some water.

Maybe even tea.

Steve usually makes him a nice chamomile tea when he’s sick. Puts some fresh lemon juice and honey in there. They have a lemon tea in the backyard.

He shook himself.

That was just a dream.

“Been worried about you, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at him.

Steve has trouble with eye contact.

Years spent with a father that forced it only to berate Steve for-

What the fuck. His daydream kept bleeding over, giving him all this nonsense about the dream version of Steve he had conjured up.

“Don’t know why.”

Steve looked at him then.

“Really pulled some shit, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you, you deserve to die, or something. You weren’t in control.”

“Was that night I beat your face in.”

Steve looked away again.

“Water under the bridge.”

Steve once told him he doesn’t know what that expression means, just that he’s heard people use it in situations like this.

“You don’t even know what that means.” Billy couldn’t stop himself.

He just blurted it out.

And Steve gave him a funny look.

Because of course he does. Because this Steve, this real Steve is different than the coma fantasy one Billy conjured up.

“Well, no. But people usually say it like that, don’t they?”

And Billy just stared at him.

And then his vision went hazy around the edges, and he slipped back into darkness.

“Which one?”

Steve was holding up two pairs of swim trunks. Billy was just staring at his ass.

“You know I like those little green ones.”

Steve threw him a look over his shoulder.

“I don’t think the green ones even fit anymore.”

Steve sometimes got self conscious about himself. His thighs had thickened up considerably, his ass getting plumper too. And his belly was soft, doughy, and perfect for squishing.

But the green shorts fit, even though they were tight.

And Billy loved his older body, loved when Steve put on some extra fluff. A chubby Steve meant a happy Steve. And Billy would know.

You learn a lot about a person in thirty-some years.

Steve was dressed now, shouldering a bag.

“Beach time?” His eyes were bright.

“Beach time.”

They held hands as they walked.

The air smelled like ocean spray.

The beach was close to their little house, and they found their usual spot right away, far from any other beach patrons.

“Hargrove!”

Billy came to with a start, back in the cold hospital room, back with a younger Steve.

What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, you kinda passed out. I thought you were slipping back under, or something.”

Steve looked sheepish.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. Not totally.

Because Billy wanted to live in that fucking daydream for the rest of his goddamn life.

“Sorry, I should let you sleep. I mean you’re probably exhausted.” Steve stood up, gathering the few things he had with him, a water bottle, and empty coffee cup, and a book. An old worn out copy of The Outsiders.

That’s dream Steve’s favorite book. He reads it once every year. He said it was the first book he ever read in class that actually gripped him. The only one he actually took the time to push through his rampant dyslexia to read and understand.

He won’t be diagnosed dyslexic until he’s 23. He’ll feel really vindicated and Billy will take him out for a fancy dinner. They’ll go skinny dipping in the ocean after and Steve will whine the whole time.

Billy hadn’t realized he had been staring at Steve the whole time that all ran through his brain, not until Steve snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Billy!”

“Yeah, what? Sorry.”

“Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

“No, I just-” he tried to scrub a hand down his face, found his muscles screamed out at the movement of his muscles after who knows how long in that bed.

It didn’t matter anyway, as his hands were wrapped up in a mitten of bandages.

“Was havin’ a good dream.”

“What was it about?”

Billy couldn’t look at Steve. Couldn’t look at those big brown eyes, couldn’t search for the specks of gold, the streaks of green that he knows are there.

“Future. Dream future, I guess.”

“Do you-” Steve hesitated, and Billy finally looked at him, watched as he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid. “Do you wanna share?”

“California. Little house by the beach. Slice of Heaven, really.”

“A wife?”

“Been married for a few years.”

“She pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Steve smiled at him softly.

“Sorry you had to wake up to me, then.”

And that? That made Billy wanna tear out his own damn hair. Made him wanna pull Steve to lay on top of him the way they both like, pet through Steve’s hair, tell him how goddamn perfect you are, Sugar.

“It’s okay. Prefer your company.”

“I guess I’m alright if the alternative is being alone.”

“Cut that out.”

Steve blinked at him.

“We’ve been talking like, five minutes and all you’ve done is apologize and talk shit on yourself.”

“Sorry, I- it’s just a habit, I guess.” He was back to playing with his hair. Being a little rougher, tugging on the lock between his fingers a bit. Billy sighed as well as he could with his burning lungs.

“Just, I like it that you’re here, okay? I’d tell you to beat it if I wanted you gone.”

And Steve smiled at him.

One of his six real smiles, not one of the eleven fake ones.

Billy can tell.

Because the real ones make his nose scrunch a bit. They make his eyes go bright and his shoulders bunch up.

And he must’ve fallen back into that dream again, because suddenly he was looking at his Steve, his grown up Steve, giving him that exact same real smile as Billy ran wet fingers over his skin.

And he pulled Steve close to him in the shower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

And if this was a dream, he was going to burn all of this into his memory.

The way Steve’s skin tastes, the way he gasps when Billy nibbles at his ear. The way Billy feels buried deep inside him, in the soft bed that they share, the one that took months to buy because Steve is weirdly picky about bedframes for no discernible reason.

And just as he was watching Steve’s face crumple, as he was trying to memorize the exact noises he makes as he cums, he was jolted out of his dream by the real Steve, fucking sneezing.

“Sorry.” He looked distressed. “You were like, really asleep and I, I tried to hold it back.”

“’S okay. Know you got that dust thing.”

Billy was drowsy. He felt like he was inches underwater, everything moving slowly around him. Almost like the world was a little muffled.

Turns out his last dose of pain meds had been administered while he was out.

“Wait, what dust thing?”

“Got that. You know. You’re allergic to dust. And peanuts. And cashews. And-the green ones.”

“Pistachios?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me. Nearly fuckin’ killed you first time we really made out. I had just eaten a PB and J. Sent you into anaphylaxis.”

Billy felt himself drifting, that perfect dreamland tugging him back.

And then there was a cold hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“Billy, Billy don’t fall asleep. You gotta, Billy what the fuck? We haven’t made out. We, how do you know what I’m allergic to?”

But Billy was swallowed up by sleep once again.

He was laying next to Steve, stretched out on their bed, Steve’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Today was nice. Haven’t had a day like that in such a long time.”

“We should do it more often, then. Call outta work and hang out at the beach all day.”

Steve rolled a bit to glare playfully at Billy.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of setting our own hours, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Billy!”

And he was back, back to staring at the pale nervous face of Young Steve.

“Billy, you’re scaring me.”

Sunlight was beginning to haze through the meager window at the end of the hospital room. Billy hadn’t had any idea of time since he got here.

Steve looked like shit, like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Billy, I don’t know if you remember, everything you said before you fell asleep but-”

“I remember.”

Steve furrowed his brows.

“How do you know that? About, about my allergies. And yesterday, you said, you said I didn’t know what water under the bridge meant. And you said, that we m-made out.”

Billy sighed again, his lungs protesting the effort.

“My dream. The future. You’re the person. My person. And now it’s like, whatever Dream Billy knows about Dream Steve I know. And I figured I just, like, made all that shit up.”

Steve was studying his face.

“Okay, then let’s see if you’ve just had some lucky guesses. Tell me what else you know, and maybe it’s all wrong.”

And Billy didn’t really like the way Steve looked like he hoped is was all wrong. Like he didn’t wanna be tied to Billy in this way.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“When you were fourteen you watched A Streetcar Named Desire with your mom and you credit Marlon Brando as your queer awakening.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, his mouth trembling.

“Your dad has smacked you once in your life, and it’s when you got the rejection letter from Indiana State. You hid the letter from him because you knew he’d be mad, but he found it and hit you and didn’t talk to you for nearly a month.”

Steve’s eyes were shining now.

“Your mom used to always talk about how much she wished you guys could have a better garden, but because it gets so cold here, she can’t grow anything. The house we have in the daydream has like, a huge fucking garden in it, by the way. I hate gardening but you love it.”

Steve stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room in front of Billy’s bed. Billy just kept going.

It was like everything was ready to burst out of him. To prove that he knows Steve, that he loves Steve. Even if this Steve is somehow different to Dream Steve.

“You go fucking batshit over corn on the cob, just with a little butter and salt on there. That’s somehow your favorite food. Because you’re the most Midwesterner to ever Midwestern, I guess. Your second favorite food is your grandmother’s lasagna. You keep trying to recreate her recipe and no matter how much I tell you it’s fucking delicious, you always get this little pout going and explain to me about how it’s not quite right. You only started smoking because-”

“That’s, I think that’s enough.”

Steve looked like a strong gust of wind would knock him right over.

“It true.?”

“It’s, it’s all true. In, in detail. I mean the, the letter, and my dad. I swore I was never gonna tell anyone about that.”

“It took you a few years. We were talking about my dad. How he treated me, and you admitted that. How sometimes you think about that one time and it makes you sad because that was my everyday-” Billy cut himself off.

Because fuck.

He forgot that Steve knows jack fucking all about Billy.

Which means Steve was currently giving him that look, that wide-eyed, nostrils flared, mouth tight look that he always did when he was angry on Billy’s behalf.

It was kinda hot.

“Excuse me?”

“Forgot my apparent psychic abilities were limited to just me knowing about you.”

“Billy, did your dad hit you?”

And Billy kinda saw no point in lying anymore.

“All the damn time.”

And Steve was back to pacing.

“Fuck. Fuck. That honestly, wow that explains a lot. I mean, yeah. I get it now. I get it.”

Billy let him mutter to himself.

Steve always does better thinking out loud.

“You know, I was actually fucking nervous to tell you, but now I don’t care. Your dad was one of the flayed.”

“Yeah, I know. Only person I never felt guilty about.”

“You’re handling this, like, scary well.”

“Technically, I’ve had thirty years of therapy. All this has been processed already.”

“Wait, your little dream is thirty years in the future?”

“About.”

“So we’re, like, fifty?”

“About.”

“How do I look?”

Billy barked a laugh, regretting it almost immediately as his whole body screamed in protest. He wheezed a few times before he felt like he could speak again.

“I think you’re hot, but you don’t handle aging well.”

“Oh, God. What’s the damage?”

“Not telling. You’re just gonna spend the next thirty years stressing more than you already would. But lemme tell you, first time you found a grey hair? That was the funniest day of my damn life. It was like being in a soap opera. You found it and then called our lawyer to begin drawing up a will. And you kept saying how you probably only have a few god years left in you. It was hilarious.”

“Glad to know you laugh at my pain.”

“It’s one grey hair. Plus you maintain good health, don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time to whine over grey hairs.”

“At least I don’t go bald.”

“Nah. Full head of natural hair. Not even receding.”

Steve brushed a hand through his hair, dropping heavily back into the seat next to Billy’s bed.

“Man, this is too trippy. Like, from my end, we’re not even close, you know? But to you, we’ve been together for decades. That’s fucking wild.”

“Imagine how I feel. Am I some kind of psychic now, or is this all just fucking delusion?”

“I mean, you know too much shit about me for everything to be, like, a figment of your imagination. But what happens now? Like, if we don’t live out the future just like your daydream, is the world gonna fall apart? Or is that an alternate dimension? Like, if the Upside Down exists, there’s gotta be other worlds too. Is that one of them and maybe because you were infected by the Mind Flayer you have like, a link between both worlds?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, his eyes darting all over the ceiling as he thought out loud. “And, I mean, I’m confused. I don’t know what my feelings towards you are. Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s been interest since you showed up. But now you’re telling me in some reality, we’ve been together for thirty years, and obviously you know all this deep shit about me, so do we date? When you know me like the back of your hand and I barely know you at all? And are you technically fifty years old? Since you lived out that other life?”

Billy’s head was starting to hurt, and he felt tired again.

“Sugar, you think we could table this?”

Steve’s cheeks went red as his jaw clacked shut.

“Is that what you call me? Sugar?”

“Call you a lot ‘a stuff.”

“Uh, like, like what?”

“Sugar, Pretty Boy, Stevie, Baby, Sweet Thing, Honey. Mac n’ Steve comes to mind.” Steve smiled softly at the last one, his cheeks still warm. “Princess.” Steve opened his mouth, his brows furrowing, the blush spreading down his neck. “No sense in denying how much you like them. Those are tried and true. Thirty years of calling you all that. Plus a few others. But, you know. Those are mostly reserved for the bedroom.”

Steve’s eyes went huge again.

“Fuck. You probably know what I kinks I have better than I do.”

“Oh, we’ve done some exploring in our time.”

Steve bent forward to bury his face in his hands with an Oh, God.

“I don’t think I wanna know.”

“Trust me when I say, you enjoy most of it.”

“Oh, most. That’s great.”

“There’s some trial and error. But we’re good at laughing stuff off, you and me.”

And then Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sat up straight in his chair.

“Wait, you said. When I first asked about the dream, you said, you said married. We got-I mean, we can get married?”

“Yeah. And we like, make out in public and shit. Hold hands everywhere. We’re big saps.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

“So things get, they get better? For people like us?”

“Yeah, they do,” Billy kept his voice soft, felt like sharing this thread of hope should be kept intimate, quiet. And Steve’s face split into a wide grin.

“God, I can’t fucking wait. Just to be, not to be scared all the time. Of everyone finding out this big fucking secret. It just, is.” Steve huffed a laugh. “Can’t believe it. Two guys getting married. Was our wedding nice?”

“We had two. One in the courthouse, one with everybody.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it-wait, who;s everybody?”

“Your gang of weirdos. Here.”

And Steve lips parted, and he made that cute little face he always does before he cries.

“They all come? Dustin and the Byers and everyone?”

“Robin officiates. Dustin cries really fuckin’ loudly.”

“And they’re all, they’re all fine with it?”

“Yep.”

“God. It’s all, you think it’s too good to be true?”

“Everything I know about you was right. Don’t see a reason why everything else would be wrong.”

“Then, where do we go from here? Like, do we try to follow your memories? Or, forge our own path? Will the fact that we know about this future automatically change it?”

Billy’s heart was doing something funny as Steve wondered aloud to himself about all this.

The fact that he was all in, dead set on having this happy future with Billy, when he didn’t even know Billy.

“Are you sure about this? If we do this? Or some form of it. I mean, I know fucking everything about you. And you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you well enough to see the good in you. I know you well enough to see that under all your big scary toughness you’re caring. And you’re kind. Although you’d probably rather be dead than admit it. And besides. If, in another reality, or in the future, or whatever, I pick you to spend my life with, obviously that means there’s something in you that makes me love you.”

Billy gawked at him.

His face was hot, no doubt bright fucking red.

Because, holy shit was that a lot.

And even Billy, used to Steve’s passionate little tangents after thirty dream-years worth, was taken aback by how quickly Steve was ready to jump into this.

And all of a sudden, Billy wanted nothing more than to reach out to Steve, to pull him close and kiss him until he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Harrington, I’m gonna need you to come kiss me right the fuck now.”

And Steve smiled, his most sunshiney happy smile, and the chair legs scraped along the tiled floor as he got up, sitting carefully on the edge of Billy’s bed.

He leaned over him, cupping Billy’s cheek in his hand, and pressing the softest of sugar kisses to his lips.

Billy let his eyes flutter closed, and he put one hand bandaged on Steve’s lap, wanting to grasp at him, to pull him even closer.

But Steve wrapped his other hand as gently as possible around the thick bandages, pulling away slowly, studying Billy’s face.

“I never asked. Is this always how our first kiss went?”

And Billy tried to search his memory, tried to find the sweet first kiss.”

“I-I don’t remember.”

Steve sat back.

“What?”

“Our first kiss, from the memories. I don’t remember. It’s like, when I think of our first kiss, all I can think of is that one just now. The other one is gone.”

An ache settled in Billy’s chest at the prospect, at losing a perfect memory with Steve. Losing their first kiss.

“So, when we do something, it like, replaces the old memory?”

“I guess.”

“So, we can build new ones then. And like, you won’t have to go through your whole life twice. We can start closer to square one. Memories that’ll be ours, and not ones that I don’t know.”

And that’s true.

For the pain of every memory gone is a brand new one, one that Steve would remember and be a part of too.

“Then I’m not telling you anymore. If we’re gonna build the memories together, we can’t be working off of some, some blueprint. Things need to be ours.”

“Agreed. We’ll make it up as we go.” Steve hadn’t stopped smiling at Billy.

“Is it weird I’m gonna kinda miss seeing you all old? You’re a silver fucking fox.”

“Yes, Bill. That’s fucking weird.” Steve took his hand and pressed a kiss on his bandages, right over where his palm will be. “Just means you’ll have to watch me go through it all again, though.”

“God, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Yeah? That get you going? The thought of me aging?”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. The thought of us aging together.”

“Wow. When you said we’re saps, you really meant it.”

Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as deeply as he could.

“Can it, Harrington. Or I’ll call the nurse and have you escorted out by security.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Steve pressed another kiss to his bandaged hand before sliding off the hospital bed, sitting back in this chair, scooting it as close as possible to the bed. He rested his elbows on the edge of Billy’s bed, and set his chin in his hands. “So, California, huh? When do we head out there?”

“Remember, like, twenty seconds ago when I said I wasn’t gonna say any more?”

Steve pushed his bottom lip out, making his eyes go big as he pouted at Billy.

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, Baby.” That was absolutely a lie. It worked on Billy nearly every time. But what’s he gonna do, reveal his weakness to Steve? Absolutely fucking not.

“C’mon, Bill. Just like, the year.”

“Nope. Not saying a damn thing.”

“Please?” Steve pouted some more.

“So odd to hear you begging outside of the bedroom.” Billy grinned with his tongue between his teeth as Steve dropped his little pouty face, his cheeks going red. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sailing right past pleading and into petulant.

“Fine. I’ll just rot here until you decide to whisk me away to California. Better make it soon or else I may just die of boredom.”

“Jesus, so fucking dramatic. Didn’t we say we’re gonna make our own memories and shit? You can very well ask me to run away with you.”

“Maybe we should like, go on a date first. So I know you’re not a serial killer before I get in a car with you and drive out of state.”

“You’re so weird.” Steve made a snarky face at him. “But you better be planning our first date. I don’t wanna accidentally repeat the other one. Want us to have our own.”

And Billy felt that overwhelming sense of sadness at losing the memories of the other date, the perfect timid experience. Going to the diner and ordering to go, eating while sitting on the hood of Steve’s car overlooking the quarry, talking for hours and hours.

But he’ll get a new memory. One he’ll cherish just as much, maybe even more, knowing that Steve will cherish the memory too.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take out. Maybe just metaphorically speaking, as I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going out.”

“Ha ha, Shithead. Just make it nice. You’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he sighed dramatically.

“If our whole relationship is just you holding me to the impossibly high standard of alternate reality me, then I want out now.”

“Relax. The standard’s not that high.”

Steve made an indignant squawking sound.

Billy just laughed.

“I’m kidding. Just, you know. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble meeting the standard. I fell for you once. I can do it again.”

And Steve’s face went all soft again, and he curled forward to rest his head on Billy’s arm.

“Thirty years. Always thought I’d end up divorced. People tend to get sick of me.”

“Not me. Never got sick of you, never gonna get sick of you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me too.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

157 notes · View notes

flowesona · 3 years

Text

picture perfect - yandere! kihyun x f! reader

a/n: i know i don’t normally post monsta x content on this blog, but i enjoyed writing this fic and wanted to share it here without the feeling of guilt that comes with posting a non-request on the joint blog! please let me know if you like it :>

warning: stalking, abuse and suicidal allusions

The strap of his camera bag weighed on his shoulder, but not nearly as heavily as it did on his conscience. Yet he had no choice but to comply - with the threat of losing his scholarship on the line, he was putty in the hands of his psychotic professor, who’d sent him on the ‘mission’ to stalk his ex-wife.

His musings on the morality of what he was doing were cut short as he heard the front door of the house he was observing open and close. There she was.

Kihyun raised the camera and snapped a few pictures, capturing the flush faced woman as she walked out onto the drive. A young girl was in her arms, swaddled in a warm coat as her mother opened the car and tucked her into a car seat.

She had a child. As if she was dead-set on making Kihyun feel awful. Still, he persisted in taking the photograph from his hiding spot, hoping the camera wasn’t too loud. Luckily, the woman was too occupied with taking care of her daughter to pay attention and soon enough she was climbing into the driver’s side of the car and leaving.

He gazed after her, still rooted to the spot even though his job was done. When he snapped out of his daze he pulled out his phone and texted his boss of sorts, who immediately asked to meet him in the red room for a ‘friendly chat’.

“There wasn’t anyone else there, right?” Junho asked, having snatched the camera out of Kihyun’s hands the second he arrived.

“No sir, just the woman and her child.” Kihyun confirmed, shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

“I’d prefer a clearer angle next time. This feels a bit distant.” His professor commented. “I’ll give your camera back once I have these printed.”

“Wait, n-next time?”

“Yes. You need to do this until we’re back together, understood?” Junho snapped.

“Sir, I can’t do that!” Kihyun protested, only for Junho to approach him in such an intimidating manner that he found himself backing up.

“I guess this scholarship really doesn’t matter to you, then. A shame.” The professor tutted. “And how disappointed your parents will be when they find out the reason you were kicked out of photography school was stalking a poor innocent woman.”

Kihyun felt his heart drop to his stomach as Junho gave him a seemingly friendly pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll see you this afternoon for my lecture, correct?”

The student just nodded numbly.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The neighbourhood was quiet at night, only the occasional hooting of owls breaking the silence. The blackened streets only lit by a few street lamps provided a cover for Kihyun, dressed in all black with a key clutched between his fingers.

‘She’ll be asleep by 10PM, she has to work late on a thursday so she can never stay up late.’ The words of Junho lingered in his mind as he slipped the key into the keyhole and the front door creaked open. ‘Besides, she never remembers to lock the door. That’s always my responsibility.’

The first thing he noticed was that the house clearly needed an extra pair of hands. There were cobwebs in the corners, and the floor was littered with unorganised toys and shoes.

But that wasn’t his purpose. He was there with a mission: a sick, illegal one at that, but something he had to do nonetheless to preserve his chances of success in the future. He found his target quickly and quietly, pushing open the bedroom door cautiously to see the sleeping woman.

Kihyun could almost understand how Junho was so obsessed with her. She looked simply ethereal splayed out, fast asleep.

He raised his camera up and snapped a picture of her from the doorway, before advancing into the room. Every step closer only made his heart race more, from dread of what could happen if he was caught but also the minor crush he was developing on the older woman.

It was just as he was getting a close up that there was a small knock at the door, just barely audible. Then, before Kihyun could even think to hide, it was pushed open to reveal a small figure silhouetted by the light from the hallway that had inexplicably turned on.

“Mommy?”

The woman in question groaned, creeping open her eyes. The figure dressed in all black standing over her was unmissable. She let out a shrill shriek, falling out of the bed and scrambling to the doorway to grab her daughter.

“Who the hell are you?” She screamed. “Get out of my house!”

“I-I-I…” Kihyun struggled to come up with an answer, his brain clouded. He’d planned an answer beforehand in case this happened - he’d simply gaslight her into thinking it was a dream - but at that moment his mind was fuzzy.

“Get out, before I call the police!” The woman screamed again.

“Please… you have to understand…” He stuttered. “Can I just explain?”

“What could you possibly have to explain?” She snarled back, holding her daughter closer to her chest.

“I’m not here of my own accord. Please, don’t call the police and I’ll explain everything. I swear on my life I would never hurt either of you.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Get talking.”

Kihyun gulped, before taking a breath in and explaining it all.

“Your ex-husband is my photography professor. He’s blackmailing me to essentially stalk you, to take photos of you for his “collection”. If I don’t do it, he says I’m going to lose my scholarship, and I can’t just let that happen. I’m really sorry for all the distress I’ve caused, but please don’t ruin my life because of it.”

The woman sighed, but visibly relaxed.

“Almost sounds believable.”

She put her daughter down.

“Go to your room honey. Go back to sleep, okay?”

The young girl nodded and plodded off.

“We should talk.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

A half empty glass of sherry was nursed between (Y/N)’s fingers, but Kihyun’s remained untouched.

“I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have to suffer because of my relationship.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s all because of that power-abusing bastard.” Kihyun attempted to comfort her. They’d spent the last half hour giving a brief recounting of their lives, a mellowing experience for the both of them.

“I mean, clearly you’ve got talent, and I would hate to see that go to waste because of me.” (Y/N) sighed, taking another sip of the alcohol to soothe her woes. “I guess you can just continue doing this. He’s just way too smart to break his restraining order and get arrested.”

“Are you sure? I hate invading your privacy, especially now that I know you.” It made Kihyun’s heart ache to even think of being such a creep to the kind-hearted woman.

(Y/N) out and took one of his hands into her own.

“You’re such a sweet guy, Kihyun. Do you have a girlfriend?”

He felt his face heat up, not quite wanting to admit how the only woman who he was remotely interested in was her.

She chuckled seeing his expression.

“Well, you’re always free to get a drink with me. Or we can have something more, if you’re interested.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Minji loved Kihyun. Whenever he visited after his work for the day was done, she would be waiting by the door with a puzzle she’d picked out for them to do together. (Y/N) would always make them tea as Kihyun entertained her daughter by helping her sort out the puzzle pieces so that they could do the edges. Then they would sit together, the perfect picture of domesticity as Minji talked excitedly about nothing in particular and (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder and slowly drifted to sleep. He’d leave the dozing (Y/N) and energetic Minji alone as he cooked them supper, often with Minji by his side asking questions about everything he was doing.

There hadn’t been one moment when he’d asked (Y/N) out, or vice versa. Things just fell into place, and there was such a warm feeling Kihyun got as a new part of the family that he almost forgot about his responsibilities. Having to take photos of (Y/N) as if she was a stranger jarred him, when he’d taken to capturing more intimate photos on his phone, saved for the mornings where he didn’t want to get out of bed.

Kihyun knew he was falling for (Y/N), deeply. It was dangerous knowing his scholarship was on the line and one fuck up could ruin his career permenantly.

One day, as Kihyun was helping Minji with her homework as (Y/N) was doing the laundry, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it.” (Y/N) sighed, letting the iron rest as she reached for the landline. “Hello?”

There was a pause as Kihyun paid no mind to it, quietly pointing out where Minji had made a mistake.

“Junho?” Kihyun froze. Surely he wasn’t going to make a move, surely he wasn’t going to win over (Y/N).

“I’m busy actually, so if you could leave me be-”

Minji smacked the arm of the out-of-focus Kihyun.

“Kihyun, what does this word mean?” She whined loudly, giving him her biggest puppy dog eyes to try and draw him back.

It stayed silent as Junho spoke to (Y/N) down the phone.

“No, you must be hearing things. She’s just reading to herself.” (Y/N) stuttered, and it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice down Kihyun’s back.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” She finally snapped back. “Go to hell, and stay away from my family.”

(Y/N) slammed the phone down and let out a huge sigh, her breathing having quickened. Kihyun quickly abandoned the english homework and took the shaking mother into his arms, letting her sob into his chest.

“He knows, he knows. This is a nightmare, he’s going to ruin your career, he’s going to-”

“Shhhh.” Kihyun held her just a bit tighter, feeling the same fear dwelling in his stomach but quashing it so that he could be strong for her.

“I’m so sorry, I should have never initiated anything between us.” (Y/N) continued to cry, but Kihyun shook his head.

“I wouldn’t exchange you for anything, not even my career.” He smiled. “I’ll sort this all out, don’t you worry.”

The young man saw over (Y/N)’s shoulder the crestfallen face of Minji staring at the couple, and he removed one of his hands from his partner’s back to beckon the young girl, who squealed in delight as she attached herself to his legs.

“No one will take this away from us. I swear”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Processing photos was a relaxing process. Whilst his professor preferred to use digital cameras, Kihyun liked watching the developing film, the quiet that enveloped the room save for the buzz of the LED lights.

His peace was interrupted with the arrival of Junho, who dropped his bag rather loudly on the floor.

“Yoo Kihyun. I trust you’ve been keeping up with your work?” His voice possessed such animosity it made the student shiver.

“I’m sorry sir, I was busy yesterday. I wasn’t able to take any pictures of your wife for you.”

“But you visited her, no?”

Silence spread throughout the darkroom.

“I didn’t. I’m very sorry, I hope you can forgive me.”

Junho let out a deep, irritated sigh.

“That’s a shame. But also, I know you’re lying to me Kihyun, and I want the truth.” He snarled, grabbing the student’s wrist in his iron grip. “Why did I hear my daughter say your name yesterday?”

“You must have misheard her.” Kihyun replied smoothly, his heart racing nonetheless.

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” His superior snapped back, twisting the young man’s wrist until he cried out in pain. “You think you’re so smart, you think you’ve got the world in your hands. But just you wait. First, I’m making sure you lose your scholarship for severe misconduct. Then, I’ll phone all the contacts I have and make sure you can never get into another school like this, no matter where you go, Finally, I’m going to make sure (Y/N) doesn’t even remember your name, so that you have nothing left after your useless escapade.”

“Fuck you.” The student hissed, tears brimming in his eyes. He couldn’t let this happen, let himself lose everything he worked for and (Y/N). He finally snatched his wrist away. “I’ll kill you before anything of that happens, you rotten bastard.”

“What will that achieve? You’ll still lose your career, your life, and (Y/N) and Minji will hate you for the rest of their lives.”

No, that wasn’t true. Kihyun had been woken up too many times by (Y/N) crying out in her sleep, wrecked with the emotional damage Junho had done to her. He’d always go and make her a cup of camomile tea, and rub her back when she cried to him about how she wished that she’d never met Junho. She’d be much better off if he was dead.

His swiss army knife was in his pocket. Maybe he could end all their troubles here.

“Now get out of my site, rat. No point doing any more work when you’re going to be kicked out by the end of the day, right?” Junho’s triumphant smirk only served to piss off Kihyun even more.

He found the knife in his pocket, flicking the blade out and letting it rest in his hand.

It was when Junho gave him a shove towards the door that he snapped and pulled it out, brandishing it in front of his face.

“Nice tool you have there, little rat. What are you going to do with it? You haven’t got the guts.” It was to Junho's surprise that he found himself pinned down to the floor, Kihyun’s weight on his chest keeping him from moving as the blade was dragged up his wrists. One of the student’s hands was clasped over the professor’s mouth to keep him from screaming out as he finished his work. The light was leaving the villain’s eyes, and it was sickeningly satisfying to see as Kihyun cleaned off the knife before leaving it in the dying man’s hands. Even if his victim tossed the blade away, it would still have the prints and Kihyun would be cleared nonetheless. He cleaned off his hands, shrugged on his jacket and left the bastard in a pool of his own blood.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

It was just after three o’clock, with Kihyun having spent the afternoon in the library studying his theory textbooks, that he got a text from (Y/N).

‘Can you pick up Minji from school as soon as possible please? I can’t leave the house right, I’ll explain it later.’

His heart thudded. He was more than ready to do it for (Y/N), to be the rock of stability in her life. If she ever needed him, he would be there.

Minji was chipper as always, not questioning why she’d been asked to leave classes early although Kihyun did have some difficulty proving to the receptionist that he had permission to pick her up despite not being her father.

She chattered to Kihyun all throughout the journey home, practically bouncing in the seat even after he gently scolded her for distracting him. He could never be mad at her, she was too cute.

Minji was ready to jump into her mother’s arms the second the front door opened, but the sight of (Y/N)’s reddened eyes as she pulled the two inside before quickly shutting it behind them was enough to concern her.

And as soon as the three were hidden from the eyes of the public, (Y/N) broke down into tears.

“M-m-minji… your daddy…” She choked out. “He’s…”

Kihyun rushed to comfort her, letting her sob into his chest.

“We’ll explain to you later, Minji. Do you want to go to your room and play with your dolls?”

The little girl bit her lip, trusting Kihyun but also concerned about the state of her mother. He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder with his spare hand, and it was enough to sway her and run off.

“Honey, we need to sit down.” Kihyun muttered, gently leading her over to the armchair. The mother sniffed and detached herself from him, wiping at her eyes.

“It’s Junho. I got a call from the police. They found him dead, and they think he killed himself.” Kihyun couldn’t care less, but seeing the state (Y/N) was in he knew it was best to fake sympathy and coo apologies.

“It’s all my fault, I told him to go to hell, I told him I hate him. It’s all my fault, I killed him!” She wasn’t exactly wrong, she had been the cause of his death, but Kihyun didn’t want that weight on her shoulders.

“No, it’s not. You’re not to blame for whatever he did.” He whispered.

“I shouldn't have ever fought him. If I’d been a bit more tolerant, he w-w-wouldn’t be dead!” A new wave of tears dripped down (Y/N)’s cheeks.

“Don’t blame yourself, you did the right thing.” Kihyun repeated, like a mantra. (Y/N) just shook her head at the response.

“Please, Kihyun. I love you, but this should have never happened.” There was a pit in Kihyun’s stomach as the love of his life spoke. “I think… I think we need some time apart. This doesn’t feel right.”

No. This couldn’t be happening.

Surely Junho hadn’t been right. Surely (Y/N) didn’t hate him?

“We’re meant to be together, (Y/N). I’m here for you, no matter what. I’d do anything for your love.” He clasped her hands in his.

“I know. I just can’t do this, the guilt would eat me alive.” She continued, her eyes still watery. “What would I look like, Minji’s father dying and me staying with my new man without a care in the world?!”

“He was a rotten bastard!” Kihyun raised his voice, standing up. “Why should you care if he’s dead? He hurt you, he deserved everything he got!”

(Y/N) was stunned.

“How could you be so heartless? I never wanted him dead!” She snapped.

“And what if I did?” Kihyun replied heatedly. “He had it coming!”

There was silence, although Kihyun’s blood was boiling so hot he was surprised there wasn’t steam coming out of his ears.

“Dear lord, Kihyun. What did you do?” (Y/N)’s voice was barely a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” Kihyun said simply.

“Get out of my house right now.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m calling the police.”

Her empty threats meant nothing to the lovesick man.

“I’d do anything for you.” He affirmed. “Don’t test that.”

(Y/N) was shaking. She was out of the grasp of one obsessed man, only to fall into the arms of one much worse.

He sat down next to her again, taking her hands into his own.

“No one could ever take me away from you. I swear.”

#Yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere monsta x #yandere kihyun #kpop Yandere #Yandere Kihyun x reader #Kihyun x reader #yandere monsta x au #yandere monsta x reader insert

144 notes · View notes

corisanna · 4 years

Text

Over 100 Years of Generational Pandemic Trauma with a Side of WW1/Depression/WW2 Trauma and Frugality: 1917-2020

This will be more personal than I usually get on Tumblr, but for some reason, I wanna share it. I wanted to put it in words with a bit of research as a way to process it and maybe get some other stories from other people.

...

So the other day, Mom and I were talking about illness and reactions to the threat of widespread, dangerous illness while watching pandemic coverage on TV. (Yes, we talk about weird social stuff a lot. A lot.) Mom casually said she and her sister were distressed every time they got even a little bit sick and tried to hide it from my grandfather because he seemed to react to illness with anger. Huh, we said, How odd.

“Maybe he was angry at the illness, not at you?” I guessed.

“Hmmmmmmm,” Mom said doubtfully.

So we were taking a break from talking and someone on TV brought up the 1917-1918 flu pandemic.

“Oh, hey, didn’t Great-Grandpa live through that?” I idly asked.

Mom blinked and went utterly still. After a minute of staring blankly, she said, “Oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t angry. He was afraid,” Mom said.

“Who? Oh, Grampa?”

Mom nodded, face in an expression of epiphany.

I started thinking. It turned into diving into family history and history in general.

Okay, so. Let’s back up for some context.

...

2000s back to 1950s back to 1940s back to 1930s back to 1914: Habits from World Wars and the Great Depression

First of all: I know for a fact that my mother, born in the 1950s, was raised on Depression/WW2 Era food frugality. My grandparents lived through both and were old enough to remember them; Grandpa was around twelve on Black Tuesday and Gramma was around two years older. Grandpa and his brother were in the military during WW2.

The things Mom was raised on:

Very simple recipes, all based on salty canned/jarred food that had been cooked to Hell and back. SO MUCH SALT. SO MANY PEAS. Grampa was especially focused on canned food; he likely ate mostly canned food when deployed and on kitchen duty. Treating sugar and salt like gold. Stretching meals that had meat with potatoes and gravy. A backyard pseudo-Victory Garden Gramma and Great-Grandma canned veg from and orange trees that Grampa obsessed over keeping healthy and productive; the garden was dominated by tomatoes to be stewed even into the 1980s and the obsessive care for the orange trees had them massive and healthy when I was a kid in the early 1990s. Butter was for holidays; the rest of the year was margarine (”oleo”). Leftover grease was strained and saved. SO MUCH JELL-O and relish IN SO MANY RECIPES, possibly because it hadn’t been rationed. (You know all those weird old 1960s-1970s recipes with gelatin and odd stuff? Look at when the recipe-makers were kids.) Did you burn your food nearly to charcoal? Eat it. Food was absolutely not to be wasted.

Shoes were to be worn until mending or tape couldn’t hold them together anymore. Weird little broken things were saved in a junk drawer as possibly useful for scrap-- broken rubber bands, screws from something that had broken, old keys, bent nails-- and metal cooking pans were to be used until they started ruining food. Boxes, scrap paper, newspapers, and magazines were to be bundled up and saved.

(source)

And so on.

For other rationing information, see the “Make It Do” tag on Sarah Sundin’s blog.

But my grandparents’ frugality goes back another generation. There was no formal rationing in WW1 in the US, but there were massive propaganda campaigns to reduce consumption of certain things. People were encouraged to have “meatless” and “wheatless” days. Weird recipes for “Camouflage Cookery” appeared.

(source)

WW1 “War Gardens” were the predecessors of Victory Gardens. Canning the produce from the gardens was patriotic. And so on.

My grandparents improved bit by bit as Mom grew and Grampa made more money at better jobs and the economy recovered. One of the first things they caved on was having coffee all day every day as some kind of personal victory, but still never with cream or sugar. Mom and I keep suddenly realizing some of their habits were tied to rationing.

Generational drift has kept a lot of those odd little habits. Mom hates vegetables that aren’t salty and cooked to floppiness. Eat freezerburned food because it’s your own damned fault it got freezerburned. Wear shoes until they fall apart and unless they are flip-flops that become 100% unusable, keep the worn out pair until our next pair of shoes wear out “just in case” the new shoes get damaged. Shoelaces are saved when the shoes get trashed. Clothes get ripped beyond repair? Fight the urge to save the cloth for “something.” Recycle things to near-obsession. “Waste not want not,” but for very specific things.

I explain all this to establish that we have already identified patterns in hardship coping mechanisms within our family.

Now we have identified another.

1917-1918 Influenza Pandemic

My great grandparents-- the parents of my maternal grandfather-- were European immigrants who lived in Chicago during WW1 and the pandemic. My other grandparents likely did, too, but I have very little information about them. My GGF’s occupation would be considered non-essential in modern times, but I’m not sure about 1917-1918. I don’t know what he did during that time; though I know there is a Draft Registration Card for him, I have no proof or anecdotal evidence that he served in the military. So he was likely home with his wife and baby. During a time of fear of bringing illness home enhanced by propaganda,

real(?) news,

(source)

and gradually escalating sanitary measures imposed by the local government.

(source)

So. Terror.

Mom and I talked about him. Obsessive about handkerchief use and washing. Strict standards for cleaning. He didn’t live with Mom’s family, so she doesn’t remember much else relevant. And Great Grandmother? She focused on the food and frugality.

But their son, my grandfather? Also obsessive about handkerchief use and washing. So unreasonably obsessed with cleaning that Gramma threw up her hands and said, “Then you do it!” and Grampa, a man in the early 1950s, did it without complaint. Silverware and dishes were never to be shared or used twice and must be washed immediately after use.

He was born during a pandemic and raised by a father who had to keep his family safe during a pandemic. And a world war. And the Great Depression.

How could my great grandfather’s parenting not be affected by all that trauma?

How could my grandfather not be affected by that parenting from trauma?

How could my grandfather’s parenting not be affected by all that trauma, plus trauma from serving in WW2?

How could my mother not be affected by that parenting from trauma?

Mom said she and her sister were distressed every time they got even a little bit sick and tried to hide it from my grandfather because he seemed to react to illness with anger. Huh, we said, How odd.

“Maybe he was angry at the illness, not at you?” I guessed.

“Hmmmmmmm,” Mom said doubtfully.

“Oh, hey, didn’t Great-Grandpa live through that?” I idly asked.

Mom blinked and went utterly still. After a minute of staring blankly, she said, “Oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t angry. He was afraid,” Mom said.

“Who? Oh, Grampa?”

The chain was greatly loosened by my mother, who was a sheltered white girl who literally didn’t know who Martin Luther King Jr. was until everyone started talking about his assassination because my racist grandparents and their social circle controlled her access to media about the Civil Rights Movement so tightly. (The deprogramming of all their underlying racism is a completely different YIKES discussion for another day.) Grampa didn’t serve in Korea, she didn’t have any brothers to get roped into Vietnam, they were very middle class when she was old enough to notice such things, she never really wanted for anything. Just lived a very privileged white girl life.

A charmed life until her mid-30s.

And she still inherited a lot of frugal and cleanliness/sanitation compulsions from my grandparents, which she then passed down to me. Diluted twice over, but very much there. And very useful, now that we are low-income and disabled but still live in a run-down but big house capable of storing extra stuff. If one or both of us has a flare and can’t shop? We just turn to the freezer and pantry and the garage cabinet. Because always having a month’s worth of food is... just how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?

Buy extra nonperishable food when it’s cheap whenever you can afford it. It’s better to have too much than to have not enough. Mind your hygiene. Wash, wash, wash anything that gets saliva or nasal discharge on it. Wash your hands before, during, and after food prep. Wash your hands in general. Grow your own vegetables and make sure they’re nutritious ones that’ll keep. Some things Are Not To Be Shared. Anything like double-dipping is a crime against humanity. Don’t lick the stirring spoon, or wash it immediately after if you do. Correct people who don’t cover coughs and sneezes and either make them wash their hands if they used them or do not let them touch you. If you get sick or poor or disaster/war breaks supply lines, you’ll be glad to have enough food to live on for a month. Buy extra nonperishable food when it’s cheap whenever you can afford it. It’s better to--

2020 Coronavirus Pandemic: Distilled Generational Habits and Coping Mechanisms

I still have the recipes Gramma carefully saved from the Eagle Brand canned, shelf-stable sweetened condensed milk that was given to her family by local welfare workers in the 1930s.

This is why when panic buying started in early March 2020-- before people started taking the possibility of long-term shutdowns seriously-- one of the first staples I went for was shelf-stable milk. I remember being surprised that there was so much of it on the shelf. Huh.

Fresh potatoes were gone, but the canned and dry/instant potatoes were untouched. Huh. Tons of Gramma’s recipes used “potato flakes.” Don’t they know that fresh potatoes have a much shorter shelf life? Huh.

Fresh tomatoes were picked over, but the canned diced/stewed/paste/sauce were still well-stocked. Huh.

Bread and bread products like tortillas were gone. The flour was untouched. Huh. I didn’t buy any because we already make sure we have a good amount of flour on hand. Same for salt, sugar, yeast, baking soda, and baking powder. Like, we have an in-other-times-(by-which-I-mean-January)-excessive amount of salt, sugar, and baking soda. Prepackaged bread crumbs were untouched; we still had a good amount of panko at home but I got two more boxes because they were BOGO and surely people would soon realize this was good to have for a bit of shelf-stable variety.

Buy extra nonperishable food when it’s cheap whenever you can afford it, Gramma may as well have whispered to me.

I should’ve bought dried split peas to make soup with the leftover ham hock we have in the freezer. They sold out the next week with all the pasta. Which I hadn’t even considered because Mom is diabetic and controls it through diet alone. Pasta is a no-no here.

I was so busy with sorting out *vague gestures* life in general during a pandemic that I delayed going through my seed stock; I didn’t realize some of my staple veggie seeds were so old because I started my garden so late last year that I just bought seedlings. I’m guessing seedlings are gonna sell out. So I was late to go hunting for seeds online, but now they’re in the mail. My usual tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, cucumbers, and winter squashes, along with things I hadn’t seriously considered before: Green/soup peas. Black-eyed peas. Carrots. Onions. I usually try to grow fun things mixed in with staples but not this year.

Remember to use sunflowers as wind and sun breaks, Grampa may as well have whispered to me. In hot and sunny places, they can make or break a garden. I learned that the hard way when I moved out west. They bring the bees, too.

Okay. I can do this. Thanks.

Conclusion

That meme of the person going “wow I wonder what it would be like to live through a major historical event-- WAIT NOT LIKE THIS NOT LIKE THIS NOOO” has me thinking even more than it usually does. This pandemic has made me acutely aware of how “macro” history’s threads are woven into the “micro” history of my family. It has made me more curious; if we’re shut in for longer, then I may actually get to poke into Mom’s side of the family more. Gaining extra context for things fascinates me-- and could be a great distraction when I’m not able to garden. I’ve already learned a lot.

I really wish I could talk to my grandparents and great grandparents about this. I can already see that I am going to have some habits permanently ingrained in me as compulsions, the same as pandemic and economic disaster did for them.

And I really understand my grandfather’s difficulty controlling anger at an invisible, microscopic enemy and what it could do to your family.

The only difference? I have twenty years of therapy behind me as a tool. I hope that’s enough.

Because yeah, there is anger in my anxiety.

129 notes · View notes

fuckblizzardbearlover · 5 years

Text

So obviously alot of people (wrongly) didnt like Woody’s decision in Toy Story 4 and i’m here to tell you why you are wrong (and maybe why you should feel bad about it)

TS4 Spoilers, obviously

With the story being about toys its likely alot of us missed out on the major theme of the genre, which really only came to me recently.

Yes they are cute movies about toys with puns and gag humor.

alot of people try to play up the existential horror of being a toy, whos existence is at the whim of giants who will destroy you themselves or throw you away , blah blah blah.

But really the whole thing is a giant metaphor. its like a Black Mirror/Twilight Zone episode where the concept is “What if adults entire lives revolved around their kids”

See, the toys exist because of kids, are brought into their lives, get fulfillment out of helping the kids grow up and be happy, and while often fearing losing their kids overall accept the inevitability.

lots of people have tried to do some weird fanfictiony thing regarding woody and andy. especially with the heavy implication that Woody was inherited from his father. But i’m here to say Woody is Andy’s father.

No not his biological father, he’s not the reincarnated soul of his father. I’m saying within the confines of this story and metaphore he is Andy’s father. his step father, his father figure. Its, within canon BECAUSE he is an heirloom FROM his father that he’s so attatched to the Woody Doll.

Because each toy has their role. RC is Andy’s first car, Ham and Potatoe head are like Andy’s uncles. Bo Peep his Woody’s girlfiend.

See its cus of this relationship that Woody’s role is so important. What are fathers for? inspiring you. Playing games with you. being heroic. Being kind. protecting others. even falling in love. Andy doesnt have a father and for the sake of the story his mother is barely shown. He gets his fulfillment and plays with the values of heroism, emotion, and becoming a good person through his toys like so many kids. And woody is there to teach him, love him, be there for him and be someone to look up to.

but because of the Black mirrorness, his step dad (woody) and uncles and aunts and all that are objects , that while they exist outside of his perview, dont exist to HIM. To any of the kids in this world. Thats how parents and adults are to kids in the real world...only more literal. Kids dont think about their teachers outside of school. have a hard time comprehending the billions of adults doing things like having lives, working jobs, speaking other languages and doing adult things across the world. Even their own parents are easily forgotten until the kid has been away for awhile, or needs the parent the do somehting or comfort them. Thats JUST like these toys. kids are inspired by and love their toys but are easily distracted, or like with many kids and their parents, grow to dislike playing with those toys/adults. And similarly the toys and adults do have their OWN lives , thats both a good and bad thing. When not being played with the toys still exist and have lives of their own. but ultimately their lives REVOLVE around a kid.

So imagine in real life in Adults werent allowed to move (far), to travel, without their kids. That they COULD but they had to return to their positions by the time the kids got back. The thing you might have been wondering is that ALL the toys cant be parents but they arent they are adults. Look at all of andy’s toys there are some he never plays with and others he barely does. So like...Bo Peep being a toy he only plays with when he needs a damsel in distress is like him going to his step dad’s girlfriend when he needs advice about girls or buying a gift for one. Ham is the weird nerdy uncle that only exists when you need to ask em weird facts on messenger or borrow money from.

So imagine in this black mirror world if like...the barista didnt make coffee all day, have breaks and made money. If they had to stay in their uniform in the coffee shop all day doing nothing but playing solitair and waiting for a kid to show up so they could play their small part.

And of course the major issue in toy story is the growing up and losing your kids.

In toy story 1 Woody gets upset when another step dad comes into Andy’s life. maybe metaphorical for his mom’s new boyfriend. like many kids ANdy is smitten by having the cool new dad who has lasers and takes him to put put and Pizza planet. Andy loved going to the ranche and horseback riding with Woody but all this NEW stuff is Amazing!. And like many adults Woody was sidelined for the new shiny stuff. If you live for your kids it can be heartbreaking when a new friend or hobby or adult comes into their life and they dont have time for you anymore. Heck every sitcome has like 5 episodes dedicated to the adults getting used to the idea that with growing up the kids dont have time for them anymore. And woody grows to accept the new adult in Andy’s life because him being an asshole about it made it so he almost LOST andy completely. Imagine a movie or sitcom where andy’s dad and his mom’s new boyfriend keep bickering and then the wife tells them if they cant stop yelling at each other in front of andy that neither of them can see him. (andy moving away)

In toy story 2 they are dealing with andy growing up. He’s grown out of most of his toys. just like how kids who are preteen spend most of their time with their family. going to friends house, playing with cousins, that as they grow older they dont want to go on 6 hour car rides to see grandma anymore. they arent interested in playing leggos with toddlers, or grow to dislike cousins. So andy’s likes and dislikes have shifted and he only has some of his favorite toys now, just like how a teenager will often be less involved with their parents, lose some friends, gain others and might interact less with extended relatives.

And then fearing losing andy himself, woody risks himself to keep another relative from losing andy. and he ends up in a new world, playing with the concept of moving on from his kid. See Jessie has already gone through this. Her kid grew into a teenager and like many mothers, was promptly forgotten about. her mom (jessie) wasnt even embarrassing, she just wasnt on her radar, she was talking with friends, doing makeup , doing extra curriculars. She didnt have time for jessie and when she finally found her, immediately put her away. She’d grown up and her ‘mom’ wasnt in her life anymore, she still had the good memories, but sadly Jessie realized that all that time she waited for her daughter to come back to her so they could bond again, that her kid lost interest in ever being her friend a LONG time ago.

And woody saw that as his future. So when the entire reason you are alive is to help your kid, what do you do when your kid isnt gone, because they dont want you anymore? thats the problem he had to face. And the movie focuses on this. on extra bonus material we see the Prospector was happy now that he finally had his first kid, Woody talks to buzz not about NEVER losing andy, but that its STILL GOING TO HAPPEN. but its WORTH IT. THats just like what so many parents say. That its hard dealing wiht kids that are stressful and take up money and eventually they rebel and you lose them for the most part. but its WORTH IT to see them grow up and become amazing people.

And thats part of Toy Story 3. Andy’s all grown up and since parents/toys only exist for kids to play with then there is no reason for them. their lives are unfullfulling and pointless but they dredge on none the less because thought heir lives are dedicated to kids they dont immediately disappear when they dont have them. though its implied they do eventually fade away.

but some of these toys find an alternative. such a preschool. infinite kids forever. the connection isnt as strong but its something. just like adults who babysit or become teachers or caretakers. In this Bonnie is Woody’s and other toys second chance. their second child. the “we arent that old, maybe we can have another one?” and So they try again.

however, Toy story 4

in this extended metaphor kids dont NEED their parents/toys. the story doestn focus on real life for people. its just assumed that kids are taken care of , that they have food and a place to live. So its actually the ‘adults whos ENTIRE EXISTENCE revolves around being loved by a child” allegory that is at risk here

And see. in real life you have to accept like woody and andy that eventually even your most beloved kid will outgrow you. You have to accept like jessie that even before they grow up a child you love will no longer need you as much as you feel for them. That while you are important to a child if you get deployed, if you have to move away , if you are just at work all the time your child is home you can end up being ‘repalced’ by someone IN their lives.

and Woody...thats whats happened to him. He’s there for Bonnie, bonnie cares about him but hes not her favorite toy. shes got this HUGE extended family and she gets enough love from her parents and her surogate parents (like dollie) and Woody is just one of dozens of ‘relatives” that help her out.

and So this LAST movie is about him finally learning that though loving a child is precious. that trying again is admirable. that when you love a child its about the CHILD not you, and that you WILL get hurt, but its WORTH IT. “this is what its all about” that helping create and nurture this kid is worth any heartbreak, of the kid outgrowing you, even the kid forgetting you.

BUT That its a choice and you can and SHOULD at some point CHOOSE to LIVE FOR YOURSELF. Woody has presumably spent all of Andy’s dad’s childhood, all of Andy’s childhood and a few years with Bonnie, raising kids, inspiring them. he’s existed for like 50 years. and He wouldnt trade those memories for the world. but He cant get that back. he cant relive the past. Its the past.

and so he decided to do what all parents should do, move on and find a fulfilling life for HIMSELF.

YOU DESERVE A HAPPY LIFE FOR YOURSELF.

and thats why it pisses me off that people are like “woody would never leave bonnie”

raising kids is great but you cant have a LIFE if you live only for that. You have to be your own person and EVENTUALLY even if you decide to dedicate your life to kids, EVENTUALLY you have to live for yourself

#toy story 4 spoilers #toy story 4 #toy story #parenthood

43 notes · View notes

fuckyeahalexjo · 6 years

Note

Can you do a story with Claire as a baby?

It was days like today that made Jo appreciate her andAlex’s decision to add a storm door to the entrances of their home the most.She watched as the youngest of the Karev crew sat in front of the door, bathedin soft sunlight as she watched the quiet neighborhood street intently, everyonce in a while getting excited about a passing car or scurrying squirrel. Jowas leisurely curled up in the oversized chair in the corner, deciding to takeadvantage of her eldest daughter’s absence as she had recently claimed the spotas her own to do all of her “big girl” homework.

Claire’s sudden excitement drew Jo from her thoughts, theyoung girl bouncing as she hit the glass excitedly, “What is it baby? Who doyou see?” Claire looked back at her mother, her few teeth shining for Jo to seeas her mouth was wide in excitement as she laughed, “Is it Landon? Huh, baby?”

The small girl almost lost her balance as she turned back tolook out the glass, still crying out joyously. Jo smiled to herself, sure that Alexwas back with the other kids to elicit this reaction from the youngest, but forsome reason Landon always got the biggest smile from Claire. The infant bouncedexcitedly and clapped her hands as the screen door opened and Haley immediatelytook her baby sister into her arms. Jo smiled softly at the sisters’ excitementto see each other as she craned to try to see around Haley, “Where are your dadand brother?”

“Landon went to the backyard to play with his silly t-ballstuff and dad’s just slow.”

Jo smiled to herself as Haley rubbed her nose againstClaire’s, “You may not want to do that…”

“Is she still contagious?”

Jo laughed partly at her young daughter already knowing thatterminology and partly at her distressed voice running the sounds together incorrectly,“Possibly.” She watched as Haley pulled back from her baby sister, but stillheld her as Claire excitedly looked out the door. “She’s almost too big for youto hold that way.”

“Nah, she’ll still be a baby for a little while longer,”Haley argued confidently.

Jo grinned to herself and looked back down at the articleshe had been reading, “Did you enjoy the party?”

She heard the storm door squeak open right as her husband’svoice floated into the room, “As much as you can a railroad themed party withthirty screaming kids.”

Jo laughed under her breath, “I wasn’t asking you.” Shewatched appreciatively as Alex leaned over to kiss Claire’s forehead allowinghis lips to linger, Jo knowing he was assessing her for any signs of fever, andanswered his unspoken question, “She’s been okay. I think she’s past it.”

Haley bounced her baby sister on her hip, “Then she couldhave gone to the party. It was the best ever, mom.”

Alex snickered as he set the pizza box he was holding on thecoffee table and wedged himself into the chair with Jo, making her draw up sothey both would fit, “She’s only saying that cause Harriett and Ellis let herhang out with the cool older kids. The party was lame.”

Jo elbowed him in the side as Haley put Claire back in thefloor, “Well because I’m a cool older kid.”

Before either of her parents could respond, she pranced outof the room. Jo rubbed her head with one hand as she dropped her magazine inthe floor dramatically, “Good God and she’s only six.”

Alex chuckled and gave her a sly smile, “Yeah, like motherlike daughter.” As he flinched from another elbow in the ribs, he watchedClaire decide to crawl back to her toys closer to the kitchen, “She’s reallybeen okay?”

“Yeah, she’s been good. Her appetite is better. She probablycould have gone, but I don’t want to be the asshole mom that infects a wholegroup of kids. Was the party really that lame?”

Alex smirked, “You’d think that between three surgeons theycould figure out a simple birthday party.” He motioned for the pizza box, “Owensaid he would get the cake, but Amelia is convinced he told her they weregetting the pizza so both she and Teddy ended up bringing pizza but no cake.Lamest party ever.”

Jo laughed to herself, “And here I thought you made an extrastop just to get me dinner.”

“I would have,” he responded, giving her a sincere look.

Jo smiled softly at him, “Did the fiasco by chance causeApril to offer to help with this one’s party?”

Alex peeked over to watch as Claire crawled towards hisstash of medical journals that she had recently discovered were fun to pullout, “Nah. You haven’t talked to her yet?”

“I kinda assumed she would offer again seeing how she’s donethe other two without us asking. I mean, please, she has to have given up on usby this point.”

“Hey, we do decent with the parties after the first. I thinkwe can handle it.”

Jo watched Claire carefully as she started to chew on Alex’sjournals, “Yeah but the first one is supposed to be extra special. So why nothave April be…extra?” When Alex simply shrugged she leaned back and rubbed herface, “I knew I should have just gone to the party when I had the chance.”

Alex head snapped around to face her, “What do you mean whenyou had the chance? You had the chance all along. You know I hate thoseparties.”

Jo’s eyes widened in disbelief, “No you don’t, you lovethem!”

“Do you not know me at all?” His voice got higher as hestared at her incredulously, “Who actually likes kids birthday parties?”

“Ummm you do…you always talk about how much you enjoy Haleyand Landon’s.”

“That’s different!”

Jo rolled her eyes with a laugh, “Forget April, you’re theone who’s extra.”

Alex looked down as Claire used his knee to pull up andlaughed loudly at them. Alex leaned over to pick the youngest up and let herstand on his leg with him steadying her, “What do you think Claire Bear? Don’tyou think Daddy knows what he does and does not like?”

Jo reached over for her journal and began flipping throughthe pages to find the spot where she had stopped reading, “You work with kids…”

“You work with pressure sores but that doesn’t mean you wantto deal with one on a Saturday.”

Jo closed her journal and looked up at the ceiling with asarcastic smile, “You…”

“Why the hell did we rock, paper, scissors on something whenyou wanted to go and I wanted to stay here?”

Jo turned to him with her mouth agape, “You suggested that!”Her voice became playfully sarcastic, “Hey Jo, rock, paper, scissors to see whostays here?” She jutted her head out, her mouth slightly open mockingly, “Whywould you ask it that way if you wanted to stay here? Everyone knows you rock,paper, scissors for the least desirable outcome so you should have asked to doit for who had to go to the party.”

Claire began bouncing on Alex’s leg, laughing at herparents’ antics, quickly losing her balance and allowing Alex to guide her downto rest on his chest before turning back to his wife, “You’re a dork.”

“You’re the dorkface. Wait until the kids come back in andwe can try with them and see how they interpret the game.”

“Nah, you’ve already corrupted their thinking. I’ll just askthe kids at work.”

Jo smirked at him, “Fine, go off and see how things are inthe real world and then come groveling back to tell me you were wrong.”

Alex smirked at her before turning back to Claire, “Daddy’snot wrong.” He kissed her forehead, “No he’s not. That Mommy is wrong and guesswhat…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, “She usually is.”

Jo gave him a side glare, “And here I was, mostly agreeingto stay here because I felt bad you had been cooped up in this house for twodays on sick leave with an infant. No more, bucko.”

“We had fun, didn’t we Claire? Except for the puking andcrying, but that was still better than a party with thirty spoiled punks.” He ranhis hand along the small girl’s back as her eyes got heavy, relaxing more witheach breath as she lay on his chest, “Yes we did.”

Jo turned towards them and lay her head on Alex’s shoulderwhile smoothing her hand over Claire’s curls, trying to tame them a bit, allthree trying to enjoy a rare moment of quiet with just the three of them.

#jolex #fanfiction #alex karev #jo wilson #grey's anatomy #ask #anonymous

36 notes · View notes

mbergansmile · 6 years

Text

Worst Of You ( Tom Holland AU)

Disclaimer: THIS IS NOT GOING TO INCLUDE ANY SMUT. I also apologise for misspelling or if I've misused grammar etc.

Summary: Mr Holland is one of Englands many young bachelors. He is the current owner of the Family business that is Holland Enterprises. Y/N was looking for a job when a anons popped up in the morning papers. She was intrigued by the idea of working for a multimillionaire. She applied for the job and got. What would happen when Y/N steps a foot inside of Mr Holland’s life?

word count: 2024

Playlist

So give me your worst excuses, any reason to stay

Give me your lips, they taste of her, I'll kiss them again

i’d rather you walk all over me than walk away

Give me the worst of you

Y/N stood outside of Holland enterprises. She was holding her breath, nervous to what was to come.

Once she steps inside that building everything is going to change. Y/N looks around to see if their might be anyone else who’s freeing out. It doesn’t look like it, she was the only one. So she thought until a Raven haired female walks up to her. She has a huge smile on her face and put her hand out. Y/N takes out the left headphone and looks up at the unfamiliar face.

“Uhh, do I know you?” She asks, you never know who you might piss off. The girl chuckles and brings Y/N into a hug.

“No but you will. Y/N right?” Y/N nodded, still not sure weather or not she should run. Can’t say the thought haven’t crossed her mind.

“How exactly do you know my name?” The mysterious girl grabs Y/N ’s arm and starts to walk to the entrance.

“I’m Tabitha, I will be your first day guide”

“My first……” Y/N stops herself immediately understanding what’s going on.

“Yeah, and we pretty much need to hurry , Mr holland does not like to be kept waiting”

They both walk into the warm building. When you enter the building you will be greeted with a wooden smell. The lobby looked like a 6 star hotel lobby (is those even existed). There was some sort of water fountain in the middle of the room. The ceiling was covered in vintage victorian painting. There were business men running around in black or grey suit and tie’s. Everything seemed so impeccable, it was almost to hard to comprehend. Yanking Y/N out of her mental notes, Tabitha dragged her to the reception.

“Hey, Janice what’s up. How are the cats ?” Tabitha said, Janice didn’t looks as amused as her. Janice was the receptionist who looks like she could be in her late 40’s.

“Miss Williams, it's always a pleasure having you bother me” Janice keeps her eyes on the computer. Not even bothering to look up.

“Well, today is a special day Janice, Mr Holland has a new assistant” Tabitha explained. Janice looks up at Y/N before looking back at Tabitha. They both started chattering.

Y/N of course could not hear anything, she was to busy watching Mr Holland enter the building. He look troubled almost worried about something. He had a coffee stain on his suit ,walking in distress he was trying to get rid of it with a napkin. He looked up and gave Y/N a stern look. Her eyes follow him until he's out of sight.

"Y/N , hello you there" Tabitha waved a hand in front of Y/N. Y/N looks at Tabitha with a smile.

"He's a real beauty isn't he " Tabitha hands Y/N the office keys, and her staff id.

"Uh" Y/N asked as the walked down the hallway.

"Mr Holland, I saw you starring at him" Y/N's cheeks started to go red of embarrassment. Right now she wanted to be at home with her dog and Netflix.

Tabitha spent the next few minuets showing Y/N around, they are standing in front of a huge wooden door. The door leads to Mr Holland's office. Mr Holland was currently writing letters of recommendations to his interns.

"I heard once , that he fired on of his interns for not closing his door" Tabitha says, intimidation ran through Y/N 's mind.

They opened the door and stepped inside. As stated earlier Mr Holland sat by his desk writing his letters.

"What have I said about opening the door without permission" He spat? Both of the girl stood still, not even moving a muscle. He looks up once he realises he won't get an answer.

" Who the hell are you ?" Even though he was speaking to the both of them he only looked at Y/N.

" Uh, sir they instructed me to show your new assistant to your office" Tabitha speaks up. Mr Holland gives away small ' Humf ' before locking eyes with Y/N who was still silent.

" She mute or something?" he asks and Y/N scoffs.

" Well, then, you've delivered her, you may leave now " Mr Holland said . Tabitha hugs Y/N goodbye before walking out and closing the door.

Y/N let's out a sign and walks over to the table where Mr Holland is sitting.

"Sit" he orders and she does as she's told. Y/N looks around the office. The first things her eye spots in how big the office actually is. It's the size of a 1800s ballroom. Most of the walls were glass except this one are where there was a wooden wall, a meter high book shelf stood in front of it. His desk was medium sized mahogany wood. He didn't have much on his desk. The few things he did have was a built-in lamp , his coffee cup, some document and a photo of him and some woman. The woman looked like might have been around Y/N age, she might've even been older.

Behind the chair Y/N was sitting in there was a small grey 'cozy corner' sofa. The office would've been homier if she wasn't to distracted being afraid.

"Tell me , Miss..." Mr Holland paused and looked up at Y/N for name confirmation.

" Oh Miss Y/L/N "

"Well how come you wanted to work here?" Mr Holland goes back to his letters, not even bothered to look at the person he was talking to. Y/N cleared her voice , not sure what she should answer exactly.

“Yeah well, I saw the help wanted anons in the morning paper. figured , why not” Rubbing her hands against her thigh nervously. Y/N doesn’t get easily intimidated, but there was something about Mr Holland that made her nervous. He didn’t say ask her anything else.

“I suppose you know where your station is” Mr Holland said.

Y/N shakes her head and looks down at her feet. Mr Holland sights.

“Right outside those door, there’s a desk. That is where you’ll spend most of your time” He still wasn’t looking at her. Y/N turned her heal and walked out.

“So what , he barley paid any attention you whatsoever?” Tabitha asked. Y/N were on a twenty minuet break and had found Tabitha one her way out. The went to get coffee and went for a walk.

“Nope” Y/N answers. She presses her hands against the mug to warm her hands in the cold Autumn weather. Tabitha doesn’t ask anymore questions about Mr Holland. She came to the conclusion than it makes Y/N uncomfortable. They walk for a few more minuets when Tabitha spots the clock.

“Hey, when were you supposed to be back?”

“Holy shit I’m late” Y/N runs over to office. What if he fires her, what is he has to find another job that pays 80 dollars an hour. She enter’s the building and presses her id again the scanner. Y/n Speed-walked over to the office. All she could think about was how disappointed her mother would be if she got fired on her first day. She carefully opens the wooden door. Mr Holland hadn’t moved, he didn’t move. When Y/N entered the room he barley flinched or looked to see who it was. It’s almost like she was invisible to him.

“i called on you” he says. Y/N fiddles with her fingers, she doesn’t want to look him in the eyes. “i’m sorry” she whispered. Mr Holland stood up and walked over to Y/N, he stopped only inches away.

“i’m sorry , I couldn’t hear you” He moves in closer.

“ Uh, i’m sorry” Y/N raises her voice slightly and steps back a little. Mr Holland finds it cute how intimidating she finds him. His chuckle has a wicked tone. Mr Holland steps away from Y/N and walks back to his seat.

“ 2 hours “ He said.

“ 2 hours?” Y/N had no idea what he meant by two hours.

“You’ll stay 2 extra hours today as your punishment” he explains. Y/N doesn’t say anything, she walks back to her desk and closes the door behind her.

-few hours later-

“Miss y/l/n , could you please come in here” Y/N stands up and walked over to Mr Holland.

“yes, how may I be of your assistants?”

“Could you please cancel dinner with my mother I’ll be stuck here for a while, oh and get me some coffee?” Even if he used words like ‘please’ he still sounded unbothered and closed off. You could tell but the mountain of papers he was burring himself in. Tabitha told Y/n that Mr Holland rarely leaves his office unless it is to go see his wife. Which she assumes was the woman in the photograph. It’s sad actually, how he spends most of his time working instead of being out with friends. Who knows maybe he just doesn’t have any friends.

“well, stop starring and do as asked” He said and Y/n jumped. She nodded and walked back out.

Meanwhile Mr Holland was sitting behind his desk doing anything but work. He was on the phone with his best mate Harrison.

“Haz, there must be something we could do”

“sorry Tom nothing you can do, unless there’s a way for you to scratch up the money” Harrison informed his friend. In frustration Tom slammed his fist into his desk, in that moment Y/N appears with a cup of coffee in her hand. Tom looked at her, noticing little things he hadn’t noticed before. Like the way her hair lands perfectly on her shoulders.The way she bite the inside of her lips when she’s nervous. The was she stood there even affected him. She was beautiful there was no doubt about that. Something about her innocents that made him want her even more.

“Haz, I'll have to call you back” Tom hangs up on Harrison.

He places both of his palms on the desk and look at Y/N. He walks over to her again, standing as close to her as he did before. Like earlier Y/N moves back, but this time Tom stops her before she could.

“Tell me, is anyone special in your life” Tom asks her, Y/N blushes, shakes her head in response. Y/N hadn’t been dating for a long time. she’s been so busy with family and friends that relationships seemed out of the question.

“No one” he whispered and moved in closed.

“i-i should get back to my desk” She says and lightly shoves Tom out of the way. But before she leaves Tom grabs her by the wrist and slams his lips against hers. He places his arm around her waist and presses her body against his. They stood in that position in what felt like forever.

Y/n brakes way from the kiss and looks everywhere but into Tom’s brown eyes.

“i have to go”

“y/n” Tom said , still having her body closely pressed against his. She didn’t say anything but Tom knew she was listening.

“ No one can know “

A/N

I might post a second part because wow I just have so much for this story. Also I'm sorry for the cheesy- ness if this story and how bad it is lool . ok by now

@hollandroos

#sophs12k #hollandroos #tom holland #x reader #marvel #spider-man: homecoming #harrison osterfield

109 notes · View notes

sirendrowns · 5 years

Text

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! good luck !

TAGGED. stolen lmao TAGGING. steal if u want!!!!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford

NICKNAME: Lizzy, Liz

AGE: 14

BIRTHDAY: April 18

ETHNIC GROUP: White

NATIONALITY: English

LANGUAGE(S): English, French, passable Latin

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Engaged but verse dependent

CLASS: Daughter of Marquess, will marry to be a Countess

HOMETOWN / AREA: London

CURRENT HOME: London

PROFESSION: Noblewoman

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Waist length when straight golden hair, typically kept up in curly twintails, bold bangs.

EYES: Doe-like, perfect for pouting. Emerald green.

NOSE: Button nose, quite small

FACE: Heart-shaped, full cheeks

LIPS: Slightly turned up in the corners as if smiling, full, often bitten to be a deeper pink

COMPLEXION: Pale, smooth, the product of a strict skincare regimen

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: One on tip of her middle finger from a burn she recieved as a child from touching the stove (she was told it was too hot, of course she didn’t listen), various little knicks on the bottom of her feet from running around barefoot as a child.

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 5′3

WEIGHT: ~90lbs

BUILD: Coltish

FEATURES: Delicate and kind, the sort of face you just assume is followed by a nice person

ALLERGIES: None

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Curled pigtails, one strand at the right of her face hanging down, bold bangs across her forehead.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Slightly sad if she thinks no one is looking, a small smile if she suspects someone is.

USUAL CLOTHING: Petticoats, corsets, and ribbons, oh my!

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Being forgotten, unloved, disliked, or left behind. Her engagement being broken. Disappointing her parents.

ASPIRATION(S) : To be a good wife and mother as an adult, though for now she’ll settle for being the best fencer in England.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind, generous, protective, hopeless romantic, willing to let others take the spotlight for her achievements

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Classist, sexist, vaguely racist, homophobic, overly protective, competitive

ZODIAC: Aries

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic

SOUL TYPE(S): Caregiver

ANIMALS: pls buy her a bird someone

VICE HABIT(S): Literally running away from her problems and/or temper tantrums

FAITH: She’s very religious

GHOSTS?: Yes

AFTERLIFE?: Yes

REINCARNATION?: No

ALIENS?: No

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Fairly republican because i mean, she rich asf

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: She understands the way of the world and that there are strict class systems in England and across the world, just as she understands how high in nobility she is. However, she believes quite strongly that her family deserves it and that others could acheive it, even so, she often gives money to the poor.

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: She believes the world is the way it is now for a reason. The queen is at her head, and she will serve her no matter the order, just as she views her space in the home to be a good wife and mother. She’s much more open to modern ideas in more modern verses, but she is quite set in her ways in victorian england, though she respects others choice to do as they please.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Tutored at home to a reasonable degree. She’s literate, but certainly didn’t go to school past age ten or so. Now, it is strictly about being a lady and her swordwork.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Alexis Midford

MOTHER: Frances Phantomhive Midford

SIBLINGS: Edward Midford

EXTENDED FAMILY: The Phantomhives are the only family she finds herself close to, though she adores the Midford grandparents.

NAME MEANING(S): Elizabeth: my God is an oath, Ethel: noble, Cordelia (French): heart of a lion

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: I don’t believe she was based on a real person, but I like to imagine her as a sort of Joan of Arc meets Daisy Buchanan meets Johanna Barker

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Emma - Jane Austen

MOVIE: None

5 SONGS: anything that has a dancing rhythm

DEITY: God

HOLIDAY: Easter, it’s often near her birthday and she loves the big egg hunt

MONTH: July

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: She loves her room, like genuinely loves it to an unhealthy degree. It’s the only place she can truly be herself.

WEATHER: Sunny and bright

SOUND: The tap-tap-tap of a block heel hitting marble floors and the swishing of a petticoat, hopefully at the same time

SCENT(S): Cinnamon, Linen, and Paula’s perfume

TASTE(S): Milk with honey and cinnamon, sweetened tea, pineapple (though she’s only had it once)

FEEL(S): The snugness of a corset, sharing a bed, sitting by a fire, sunlight

ANIMAL(S): any type of songbird

NUMBER: 7

COLORS: Pink, cream, naples yellow

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Fencing, endurance running, sneaking out, needlepoint, singing, piano

BAD AT: Making decisions, telling hard truths, cooking/cleaning, talking about feelings

TURN ONS: Put her in her place honestly, just take care of her emotionally and the rest will be taken care of.

TURN OFFS: People with no ambition or people who play hard-to-get. She’s needy.

HOBBIES: Shopping, fencing , dancing, spending time with loved ones

TROPES: The Damsel (In Distress)

AESTHETIC TAGS: Pastel, Lolita, Luxury, Parisian, Princess

GPOY QUOTES: “ Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That's what little girls are made of ”

FC INFO. animated / live action

MAIN FC(S): Elizabeth Midford / Viktoriya Novikova

ALT FC(S): N.A. / Okazaki Momoko

OLDER FC(S): Ada Vessalius / Annasophia Robb

YOUNGER FC(S): N.A.

VOICE CLAIM(S): Haven’t thought abt it tbh

GENDERBENT FC(S): Lowkey just Edward Midford, and then William Mosely for live action

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?: It would probably just be called something simple and plain like “Elizabeth”, “Doll”, or “Low Heeled Shoes”, and it would be filmed in a sort of artsy way like the shortfilm Empty Sky. It would follow her struggles as she grew up with femininity, religion, and having to learn the general concept of self love without basing it on others’ approval of her.

Q2: what would their soundtrack / score sound like?: Lots of soft, dainty indie songs following the sounds of Daughter, One Two, Cigarettes After Sex, etc

Q3: why did you start writing this character?: She really appealed to me back in middle school when I got into the show. She was sweet, feminine, and unafraid to speak her mind, which I liked. As I started getting into the manga more recently after a long hiatus, I fell in love with her all over again and all of her nuances that I didn’t notice when I was younger (and before the campania arc, mind you)

Q4: what first attracted you to this character?: She was everything I wanted to be, I found her positively adorable and there weren’t many characters like that. She brought a well needed ray of sunshine to the show.

Q5: describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse: She’s a BRAT

Q6: what do you have in common with your muse?: We both have super overbearing parents who care too much and too little at the same time lmao. also i fence while still being very feminine minded and enjoying hair/makeup/fashion and i like seeing a character do that

Q7: how does your muse feel about you?: Hopefully we’d get along

Q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?: Sebastians like j e s u s i love the drama. Also rciels have a quite interesting dynamic with her, though i really do appreciate every interaction, it’s much more about the muns that make it special than the characters

Q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse?: Sad music, painting, sewing, drinking a bitchin cup of tea, dancing, you name it. also my bf

Q10: how long did this take you to complete?: Like an hour and fifteen minutes, but i took a big sleep in the middle and had to look up a lot of quizzes

#& GAMES ᵃʳᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵈˡᵉ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ

4 notes · View notes

justaramblingromantic · 6 years

Text

nii-chan has an ow

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou, Tsukasa Eishi, Tsukasa Hi’en (OC), Tsukasa Chouko (OC)/EiRin

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Peerless-verse, Freestyle

Word Count: 2996

A/N: Tsukasa!Family shenanigans. Four year old Hi’en is sick, and two year old Chouko has no idea what to feel about it.

“Nii-chan, play…?”

Rindou lifted her head from where she was half reclining on her son’s bed, her gaze landing on the tiny form of her daughter. Curled up beside her, snoozing fitfully in an exhausted heap was Hi’en. The younger redhead was finally out like a light after coughing and raggedly struggling to breathe through a clogged nose for the last few hours. There had been a flu outbreak at the preschool, and her poor baby had caught the particularly persistent virus from his peers.

His little sister had thankfully not been affected, but they had brought her home from the preschool yesterday all the same, as a precaution. Rindou had taken leave from work to take care of her children, though her greatest challenge so far was in keeping the siblings apart. Young as she was, Chouko could not understand why her nii-chan was not playing with her…and she kept wanting to go into nii-chan’s room and climb onto nii-chan’s bed and cuddle with nii-chan and mama but for obvious reasons she had been barred.

That did not stop her from trying to sneak in all the same. The tiny white haired toddler was hovering at the doorway, and she sidled in to cross the threshold. Her mama’s eyes narrowed, and she started to straighten, though her hand was still slowly stroking Hi’en’s hair, soothing her boy as he napped restlessly.

“Baby, don’t come in-”

But her child had obviously inherited her parents’ stubbornness. She had been trying all morning to get into the room and she wasn’t about to stop now. Before Chouko could flat out sprint towards her goal in one last victorious burst, her papa came swooping in from behind to the rescue. He picked up his daughter and neatly stopped her valiant break-in attempts.

“Chou, you can’t go in,” he told the unhappily squirming little bundle in his arms. “Your nii-chan needs rest; he’s not well. He’ll play with you when he gets better.”

Chouko stilled at her papa’s explanation. She stared at him wide eyed. Eishi gazed thoughtfully at her stunned, deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“…Ow?” she asked softly, almost mumbling to herself, and both parents looked quizzically at each other, and then back at her, not sure what she was trying to say. But they also quickly recognized that wobbly expression on her face, her big lavender eyes slowly filling with tears. “Nii-chan has ow?”

She was whimpering, lower lip trembling, finally figuring out that something was wrong with her older brother.

Rindou quickly realized what was upsetting the little one so much. She sat up fully, careful not to displace Hi’en at the same time.

“Oh baby, no. Nii-chan’s gonna be okay! It’s just a little ow. Nii-chan just needs to sleep and rest for a bit and he will be fine!”

Unfortunately, the tears could not be stopped. The little two year old was crying softly as she strained towards her brother and mother in Eishi’s arms, pitiful little sounds of ‘ows’ escaping from her as she tried futilely to reach them.

Eishi was at a loss. He cradled his youngest to his chest and petted her back, but she was inconsolable. Her tiny howls of heartrending distress woke her brother, who stirred uneasily and instinctively turned his head towards the sound. His eyes opened in a drowsy, bleary squint, and he mumbled hoarsely. “…Chou, don’t cry...”

Hi’en’s voice had an immediate effect on his heartbroken sister. The smallest Tsukasa paused mid-wail, little cherubic face red from her tragic exertions and streaked wet.

“…N-Nii-chan…?”

The boy raised his hand briefly before letting it flop on the duvet again. He was so tired.

“Don’t cry,” he repeated, voice still faint, clearly more asleep than awake. The medicine that his mother had made him take was supposed to knock him out so that he would recover faster. “…Play later, ‘kay?”

Now that she had seen and heard her brother’s assurance, the little girl’s anxiety slowly calmed. She sniffled. Her chest hurt still because nii-chan was still having ow, but nii-chan said ‘play later’…so maybe nii-chan’s ow will go away?

“’Kay, nii-chan…” she murmured meekly, subsiding some more.

Hi’en did not reply; the sick, fatigued boy had nodded off again, curling into his mother’s warmth. Chouko got teary once again but she did not cry anymore, trying her hardest to be brave. Her papa made a quiet, sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and pulled her into his embrace in consolation, long, adroit fingers reaching up to wipe away the wetness that stained her cheeks.

“…Papa, down,” Chouko muttered after being coddled and comforted for a while. When Eishi took too long to respond, she repeated her request, all but starting to squirm and wiggle in his arms. “Down, down, down, down.”

Eishi exchanged another look with Rindou, and she shrugged. At last, he conceded to his slippery child’s demand and set her back down on the floor. He was prepared to stop her from dashing right for her nii-chan, but much to her parents’ surprise, she turned and toddled out of the room instead, as quickly as her short little legs could carry her. Before Eishi and Rindou’s bemusement could grow too much, the child came waddling back short moments later, dragging with her a very familiar plushie. It was a fluffy white rabbit, almost as big as her tiny self. Chouko came to a stop before her male parent and performed a ritual that the entire family knew very well by now.

“Ow, go ‘way. Ow ow, go ‘way, ow ow go ‘way,” she petted the bunny’s head as she chanted determinedly, before she finally presented the soft toy to her papa, tugging at his pant leg, expression earnest and hopeful. “Nii-chan, give?”

“…You want to give Bunney to your nii-chan?” he asked, just to make sure. It was her precious, most favorite possession, and one which she always demanded to have with her during naps and bedtimes.

She nodded eagerly. “Give, Chouko give!”

Eishi’s gaze was soft as he took her beloved bedtime companion from her. He petted the top of her head. “I understand. Stay here.”

Chouko obediently hovered by the doorway and watched solemnly as Eishi entered the room and towards his wife and son. Rindou’s eyes were fond and warm too, as she accepted the offering from him and made a big show out of tucking her daughter’s beloved toy beside Hi’en. The doll would watch over nii-chan in her place.

“I’ll take Chou to work with me today, so you can take care of En,” Eishi spoke quietly to his mate.

Rindou lifted her brow. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “We’re only doing stock inventory today – I’ll keep her safely entertained. We should be home before dinner.”

“M’kay, then.”

He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her cheek, his hand briefly drifting over his son’s tousled red hair at the same time. “Text if you need anything,” he murmured before pulling away.

“Will do~”

“Papa, we go?”

Chouko stared at her father with huge, curious eyes as he carried her from the nursery to the living room.

The little toddler had just been changed from her indoor clothes to her going out clothes, plus another two extra layers over her leggings and long sleeved shirt to keep her snug and warm. It was in the middle of winter and the last thing they needed was for her to catch a cold, too. Her hair had also been neatly combed and a pretty butterfly bow clipped neatly at the back of her head, keeping her fluffy white locks from getting in her face.

Eishi continued into the kitchen and set her down on the island counter, and she thumped the back of her heels idly against the vertical surface as she swung her stockinged legs, a pastel lavender creation with cute little black kittens crawling all over it.

Chouko watched her papa as he moved purposefully around the kitchen, pulling out her milk formula from the cupboard and setting aside a portion for lunch later. He also took out an apple from the fridge, washed it thoroughly and proceeded to cut it up quickly for her snack. He handed one slice to her and packed the rest away into a small Tupperware.

Chouko took the offering and chomped at the crunchy fruit with gusto.

“Yes. You’re coming with papa today, okay?”

“Nii-chan?” she asked between bites, concerned. She was still a bit forlorn, and her papa reached over and rubbed the top of her head comfortingly.

“Mommy will look after nii-chan,” he told her softly. “Nii-chan will be fine. Don’t worry.”

The bag was quickly filled with the other essentials; her sippy cup, extra diapers, wet wipes, baby powder, some toys, plus a few more odds and ends. She was already eating solid foods, starting to wean off of milk these days, and they were also just starting to potty train her, but she wasn’t fully there yet. Eishi reached over to lift Chouko into his arms, transferring her from the tabletop to the ground. He helped her into her winter wear, a puffy white monstrosity that turned her into a living marshmallow, before shrugging into his own coat. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder, picked Chouko up again, and they stopped briefly by Hi’en’s bedroom on their way out.

“Say goodbye to mommy and nii-chan,” he coaxed her.

“Mommy, bai bai,” the toddler obediently recited. Her voice was quiet as she thoughtfully waved to her mother and brother, the latter still asleep. “Nii-chan, bai bai.”

Rindou looked up from the bed, where she had a laptop perched on her lap, in the middle of replying to some fanmail while keeping her sleeping son company. Thanks to the medication and the rest, he was already starting to breathe better, and his coloring was slowly returning to normal. She smiled and waved, wiggling her fingers at her littlest baby.

“Bye bye, kawaii~! Have lotsa fun for mama and nii-chan, ‘kay?”

The baby nodded, and Eishi locked eyes with his wife.

“Then, we’re going now.”

Grinning, Rindou waggled her fingers at him too, her babies’ daddy.

“Itterasshai, drive safe~”

Bringing Chouko along with him turned out to be the right decision to make. The moment Eishi strapped his daughter into the child’s car seat and started to drive, her mood improved. It had always been that way ever since when she had only been a little baby. Car rides soothed her, and there were times when she was crying nonstop as a very young infant and they were at their wits’ end until they accidentally discovered that she would quiet down and nod off quickly whenever they put her in a moving vehicle. At the beginning, there were even some evenings where the whole family would just climb into the car and drive aimlessly around the neighborhood in circles until the kids fell asleep.

As such, Eishi wasn’t too surprised when Chouko was soon thoroughly distracted and back to her happy, curious self again, babbling to her papa beside her in a language that only she could understand and gazing out the window with wonder as they meandered through the streets of downtown Tokyo. It was nearing Christmas, and some of the main roads along the major shopping districts were decorated by enchanting and colorful fairy lights strung just about everywhere, much to the laughing delight of his little butterfly child.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant and parked, Chouko was all bright eyed and in a good mood. She had always been a happy–go-lucky baby, so her father was glad to see that she was cheerful again.

“Papa, where go?” the white haired toddler asked her male parent as he released her from the child seat and lifted her out of the car. She automatically hooked an arm around his neck to steady herself, and he propped her against his hip, sitting her bottom on his forearm so that she would not end up sliding down. He was already shouldering the bag with all the things for her, and he nudged the car door close before locking the vehicle.

“We’re going to the restaurant today,” he told her patiently, as they started to walk down the street and towards the building at the end. She gazed at him curiously, at least until a stiff, icy head wind kicked up, blowing hard enough that she made a startled sound and hid her stinging face in her father’s neck, shivering at the chill. The snow had not arrived in Tokyo yet this year and it was never a certainty if it ever would, but it was still really cold and wet around this time in December. Eishi reached up and flipped Chouko’s hood up over her head, his large, lean hand curling over the back of her skull, keeping the hood in place to protect his child from the elements. This one wasn’t as averse to winter as her mother was, but she did not enjoy being uncomfortably cold, either.

He walked them quickly to the restaurant, and it was only after they had ducked into the cozy warmth of the establishment that he finally let Chouko down. His little marshmallow daughter still had her hood up and she tottered in an unsteady circle trying to figure out where she was. Eishi’s lips twitched as he watched her orientate herself.

“Come, Chou.” He stretched out a hand towards her and she took it trustingly. He walked slowly with her deeper into the restaurant. They were closed today to deal with housekeeping matters, which was why it was possible to bring Chouko along. Otherwise, the intense heat of the kitchen and the incredibly fast paced environment during crunch time was hardly the safest and most conducive place for a very young child to be in, and her father tended to get so immersed when he was working to come up with the exquisite culinary creations that he was so well known for that he would have been hard-pressed to keep track of his offspring at the same time.

The doors to the kitchen swung open, and out ambled his assistant who had obviously just heard them enter the building. The younger man did a quick double take when he saw Eishi’s little companion. The hint of fluffy white hair and the bright lavender eyes were dead giveaways as to the little cotton puff’s parentage.

“Oh, hey Boss. I didn’t know that it was Bring-Your-Child-To-Work-Day today,” he drawled, rocking up closer to study his head chef’s youngest child. He squatted down before the tiny little thing, who was staring back at him with open curiosity. The fact that her papa was beside her probably contributed to her lack of fear before a complete stranger.

“Hello, hello,” he greeted in a sing songy kansai-ben. “So yer my Boss’s precious ‘lil princess, huh? What’s yer name, hime-chan?”

The child tilted her head, and her hood fell off at the movement, revealing a really adorable little squirt hidden underneath. She also lifted her head to look at her papa, a bit uncertain.

“Tell him your name,” her father encouraged her gently, nothing at all like the utter demon that he was in the kitchen, continuously demanding perfection out of his staff, selfishly squeezing out every drop of their talent for the sake of accentuating his cooking.

“…Chouko is Chouko…” she blurted out, shyly. Cute. It was hard to believe that his uptight ice king of a boss could physically produce such a precocious offspring.

“Hi there, Chouko-hime. I’m yer pop’s head lackey, Izumi-kun. D’ya think I’m handsome?” He lazily struck a pose, complete with peace sign.

Eishi wanted to sigh in consternation at Izumi’s antics. Why were good assistants so hard to find?

His previous sous chef had tendered his resignation a few months ago to migrate to another country to start up a restaurant as had always been his dream, and Eishi had let him go with his blessings. The problem thereafter was finding a replacement that was on par or at least not too far off in skillset, but much to his dismay, that sort of talent had been as hard to find as trying to locate a needle in a haystack, especially when taking his demanding expectations into consideration.

A few weeks ago, Kenjiru Izumi sauntered into Chateau seeking a job interview. The man had been utterly ridiculous too, citing his only prior job experience as a takoyaki chef and that he had quit his position because he wanted a change of pace and that he had lost respect for his ex-boss because ‘his balls were even smaller than the ones I’m used to flipping.’

Eishi had been very much ready to write the punk off as a joke entry…only that it quickly turned out that he was not…and so here they were now. Not a day went by without Eishi questioning himself if he had made a mistake signing the mouthy and opinionated guy on as his sous chef, but truth to be told, as outrageously eccentric as Izumi was at times, his ability in the kitchen was top-notched and even more refined than his predecessor…which left Eishi trying to figure out exactly what sort of takoyaki restaurant it was that the other man had honed his skills in.

Chouko continued to stare at this strange golden haired man with the squinty eyes and the wide fox smile, visibly bewildered.

“Please don’t harass my two year old daughter,” Eishi muttered with exasperation. “If you make her cry, you’ll be responsible for getting her to stop as well, Izumi.”

The younger man huffed with amusement. “Hime-chan, you won’t cry, right? We’re gonna be good friends. I’ll carve you a carrot butterfly if you say ‘Izumi-kun is very handsome.’”

“…And don’t teach my two year old daughter to say nonsense, thank you very much.”

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Shokugeki no Soma #Tsukasa Eishi #Kobayashi Rindou #eirin #EiRin: Peerless AU #my fics #freestyle

43 notes · View notes

iamwhelmed · 6 years

Text

Win One, Have Two: Chapter 4

Let me preface this with an apology to all of you. I know I’ve skipped updates for over two months now, and I’m so so sorry about that. A huge load of things happened, and they happened all in a row. My birthday, and then my entire family got sick enough that I had three or four nosebleeds and my mother considered antibiotics. As of today, we’re still not all quite over that. And then, in late November, I lost my cat. She was my whole world. I loved her. She was older than I was and this was coming for a long time, but it still hit me, and it hit me hard. I won’t go into all of the details, but for a few weeks there I just couldn’t find the inspiration to write-- er, well, anyway. I had to write something for my creative writing class and... let’s just say it’s one of my least favorite pieces. Either way, I’d lost inspiration long before this train of events hit, and the train only made it worse. However, I think as a writer, one needs to push theirself, even if they don’t feel like writing, to write. That’s how we grow-- the difference between a hobbyist and an author is that one finishes their work. I intend to finish this fanfic, dammit. Anyway, here are the links on AO3 and fanfiction.net. Hope this extra long chapter was worth the wait!

Here it is on AO3

Here it is on Fanfic.net

He was early, he thought, glancing down at his watch-- early by a day. Ed snickered to himself and climbed the steps up the Guerra dojo, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Isabel was never a fan of surprises, but he had a feeling this would be different-- after all, it’d been a little over two weeks since he’d last seen her, last saw her smile and felt her nearly lift him off his feet. He was growing stronger, gaining muscle and therefore weight, and she wouldn’t be able to do that past the the next season, but for the moment he’d enjoy it. She probably wouldn’t be too proud to be lifted off of her feet, but he’d certainly try to repay the favor.

It was silently that he pressed his palms against the door and inched it open. There were a few grunts, and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor along with the occasional yelp-- telltale signs of a sparring match. He pressed further in, peeking inside with a grin.

Isabel and Dimitri moved back and forth, throwing punches and kicks and dodging each blow all the same as they bent forward and backward in a limbo, in a dance. Isabel winced when Dimitri’s hand came too close to her head, brushing by the tip of her ear as she sidestepped and brought her forearms up to block a surprise blow to her chest. Dimitri seemed less distressed than she was, but Ed could see the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head. He plopped down on crossed legs by the doorway, setting patient hands in his lap as he watched them duke it out. It’d been a year or so since he’d last seen the Activity Club’s strongest have at it-- a treat he was beginning to realize he’d sorely missed.

Isabel’s sidestep left Dimitri falling forward with the force of his fist, and she took the opportunity to throw her arms around his waist and dig her head into his stomach, sending both of them falling to the ground. She’d been set on cornering him, then, too distracted to notice the way Dimitri tangled their legs on the way down, use the twist of his heel to change their momentum. She squeaked as she landed back-first on the floor, Dimitri pinning her with his hands locking her by the elbows to the floor. She squinted at him from behind the one eye that wasn’t covered in her unruly bangs, and he smirked at her the way Dimitri smirked at everybody, but with a blood-boiling hint of smugness in the glint of his eye. He leaned down, close enough that his nose was hardly an inch from her own, and whispered. “You’ve gotten stronger, Iz, but not strong enough.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

He wasn’t expecting her legs to wrap around his upper body, or for her to use that surprise to flip him over her head. He exhaled, sharply, and grunted as she flipped over on top of him, knee pressing against his stomach, hands curled around his shirt, tugging him up as she leaned down. She gave him her own haughty grin. She didn’t realize her breathing was labored until she spoke, or that Dimitri’s lungs were just as constricted. “Is that strong enough for you?” He took a moment to process how she’d won, or more accurately that he hadn’t, then snorted and smiled, lips, which her eyes-- for some weird reason-- fell to without her explicit permission, parting to say something.

And then there was a whistle.

They turned to look so fast they might have made themselves dizzy, eyes falling to their secret audience, who was then standing and clapping with a smile as wide as his face. “That was so cool, Izzy! Man, where’d you learn that? No way the old man has started teaching you judo.”

Dimitri blinked, and in the next moment he’d been dropped to the floor, suddenly much lighter without the weight of a second person towering over him. “Ed!” He sat up with one hand rubbing his head, eyebrow rising as Isabel rushed into Ed’s arms, wrapping her own around his neck as he took advantage, digging his head into the volume of her hair, of her neck, with a face so bright he’d have thought he was a man home from war. Isabel was no less buoyant than the enduring wife, laughing and swinging herself around and squeezing him closer every time Ed so much as made a move to pull away. Dimitri frowned.

Then he shook his head and smiled, and raised a hand. “Ed! Long time no see, my man.”

The two finally pulled away from their embrace, and Ed waved back with a grin and a flick of his wrist.

Isabel’s eyes met Dimitri’s, wide and-- good lord, glowing. “We were just sparring, since our resident AWOL club member is a little rusty.” She stuck her hands on her hips, and he snorted to the side, gazing at her in his peripheral.

“I must be if I let you pull what you just did…”

Her smile doubled in size, and he could have sworn the shimmer in her eyes diminished to a dull brown, sharp, like a predator, like an animal. Isabel turned and nudged Ed with the bend of her arm, playfully. “What do ya say? Wanna face the winner?”

He and Ed locked eyes, and for a second, just a second, there was a question hanging in the air-- something unspoken, something he wasn’t even sure Ed knew himself to be asking. Dimitri shrugged and leaned forward over his knee, and from there, Ed sprung to life again. “I’m as ready as a lunatic preparing for the apocalypse!”

“What do you mean you haven’t found anything? You’re the police! He’s a missing rich kid! What could possibly be higher on your priority list, woman?”

Suzy, Collin knew, was a fierce girl, and would become all the more tiger-like as the years passed them by, and he thought for sure that, given time… she’d get herself brutally murdered, or locked in a high-security prison. He’d just hoped, prayed, wished on several wishing wells and multitudes of tossed coins in fountains, that he would not be present, nor an accomplice when that day came.

The woman, the small, bony, wide-eyed woman, no younger than fifty, trembled in the presence of Suzy’s wrath, fingers shaking so terribly that she couldn’t even type a word, although Suzy had echoed the command like a mantra: Look up Isaac O’Connor. Has the case been solved? Any traces?

He wasn’t about to tell her they probably wouldn’t share that sensitive information with a couple of middle school kids, and he doubted the poor thing she was terrorizing would. “I-I’m afraid we h-haven’t found anything new, yet--”

“Are you serious right now?” Suzy pointed to the keyboard with one rigid finger, teeth grinding as each word fell from the wall of bone with a hiss. “Look. Again.”

“I-I’m sorry, miss! There’s simply nothing else to be done! Our men a-are working very hard to find your friend! I-I’m sure he’ll--” She squeaked when Suzy’s fist came down upon the desk, shuffling and unsettling stacks of papers, sending white sheets flying and swaying in the dead air of the police station. She wrenched her back against her desk chair until it hit the other side of her circular desk, wincing the more Suzy leaned closer.

“I don’t want excuses, Margaret! I want results!”

Collin sighed and pulled away from the front revolving door where he’d been standing; the red of Suzy’s cheeks meant trouble was brewing, and he didn’t want to be around to hear the tea kettle sound. “Suzy,” he set one hand on her shoulder, pulling her an inch or two off of the front desk, which she was near laying across by that point. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” He winced, unprepared for the level of “shrill” in the height of her tone. “How can I calm down?” She raised one hand, gesturing to the frail woman behind the desk, who’d taken the opportunity to step away-- presumably to get help. “How can I calm down? These nicompoops can’t find one blue-eyed ginger kid, and I’m the one out of line?”

“Yes! Now come” he tugged at her arm “on!”

Her feet skidded against the floor, and though she waved around and pulled back and dug her heels into the floor, he somehow managed to wrench his arms enough to get her out the front door, down the front stoop. She tried to snatch her wrist away as soon her her toes tipped into the final step, and he let her. “What” she huffed, and he wondered, sardonically, if she’d tired even her lungs out with all the screaming she’d just done. He felt a deep, connected sympathy for the poor child she’d presumably have one day, then cringed and swept away the thought of Suzy as a mother immediately. “What did you do that for?”

“You are literally going to get yourself arrested.”

“For what? Complaining?”

“No! For being a public disturbance! In a police station!” He gestured to the still-swinging doors and the mess she’d left on the other side of them. “That’s like going to a train convention before proceeding to mock trains as the inferior public transit system!”

Suzy blinked at him, then glanced to the station doors, then back at him, and crossed her arms. “So?”

“So?” Collin bit down on his lip so hard he was sure it was going to start bleeding, swallowing the complete and utter disbelief and resentment that was starting to swell within him at a more alarming rate-- and higher volume-- than usual.

But blowing up and ranting at her about the poor ethics of the life she led was going to do nothing but get him drowned out like always. He had to be smarter about this-- had to be more like Dimitri about this.

He ran both his hands down his face and sighed into them. “Suzy, look,” he pressed his palms together and placed them at his chest, mildly surprised when she looked at him instead of through him, blue eyes narrowed, but for once, focused. “I miss Isaac, too. I’m worried about him. There are a lot of things that can happen to a missing kid our age out there and few of them are good-- but listen to me. There’s gotta be a better way of going about this.”

Suzy’s nose wriggled and she pouted up at him from when her downturned chin was set, looking like a scolded child as she wrung her fingers through the sleeves of her pink jacket. He would have been more in awe if he wasn’t so worried he’d lose her attention; there was something tamed about Suzy when she was quiet, when she was thinking and not scheming, and the serenity made her something to observe, like the return of the ocean after a tsunami, or the white flag on a battlefield as either army slept through the night. He couldn’t help but think that he should have taken a page out of Dimitri’s book a long time ago. She huffed. “Like what?”

She’d listened to him. She’d really listened! “I’m not sure, but maybe Mister Spender will have some ideas?”

Suzy sprung back to life then, tamer than before, but still fiery and still spoiled. “I don’t wanna ask him for help!”

Collin blinked, hands falling to his sides. Of all the--? “What? Why not?”

Her cheeks bloomed red, and she stomped her foot on the sidewalk for good measure, hands balling into fists. “I just don’t want to, all right!” She passed him by, then, each step as heavy as the irritation radiating off of her, almost like the auras Isaac had once described, and he watched her with a curl in his lip and furrow in his brow.

She must have been six, maybe five, and Catriona wondered how she was already seeing spirits-- how she already felt comfortable enough around them to be playing with them so carelessly, so freely. She could hear the girl’s mother somewhere, in the distance, like a bird chirping completely unaware of the woodsman coming to chop down its tree.

She placed a hand against the tree she took as cover, watching the child from the shadows as the spirit led her to and fro, from one end of the small stone bridge to the other. It was small, small enough to fit into the palm of her tiny hand, and fast, and it flew, in all probability the factor that drew the little girl to chase. It was cute, Catriona supposed, with a bushy tail like a squirrel and paws tinier than the smallest leaf, pure white with a stroke a red along its head to its hind end. Its ears twitched when the girl giggled, beady red eyes blinking back at her because it had no mouth to chirp back.

Catriona was sure it meant no harm.

Meant.

Perhaps it was a misstep, or the culprit was the sleekness of the stone after it’d rained in the early morning.

She slipped. She slipped and stumbled into the running river below, into the heavy crash of wave after wave as her small arms reached helplessly above the raging waters. Her mother drew closer, then. Probably heard the splash.

“Aggie!” Her mother was, understandably, panicked, eyes wide, hands shaking, screaming and reaching a powerless hand out to the wandering, blind fingers of her child. Catriona grimaced, licking her lip and cracking her knuckles.

“Love, I’m going in.”

Though she heard no response, she could feel his approval-- warmth, then something hotter, a passion, a drive.

The little girl, Aggie, floated down the river, out of sight of her mother, who’d only just begun climbing off her knees to chase her down the forestside. She called out to her all the while, heart racing, pounding like the veins in her chest were ready to pop, a hand outstretched in fear, in so much fear. She could only see the tips of her baby’s tallest fingers, overarching the water only enough to draw the attention of the only audience she had. “Aggie! Aggie, hold on! Hold on, baby!”

“It’s okay!” She paused, nearly tripping over her own two feet as a black-gloved hand raised in the air behind the bend of the river and trees, fingers beckoning her closer. “Aggie, right? I caught her, she’s fine!”

Lo and behold, just around the corner, she found a woman with hair the color of an orange sky-- the sunset-- holding a soaking wet Aggie in her oddly-covered arms. But that was her least concern, not when her baby was reaching out to her with tears in her eyes, fingers opening and closing with every inch she reached for her mother’s embrace. With a gasp, with a choked sigh, with a smile, she took her daughter in her arms and swung her around in a circle, holding her close, taking in breaths of her damp hair and laughing to herself as tiny hands clasped at her blouse. She turned to the stranger, her hero, hero daughter’s savior, and took in her odd state of dress with less scrutiny and more curiosity.

Her dress was long and formal and black, as though she’d stepped fresh out of a church, out of a money man’s funeral, though the lengthy slits on either side of her long, slim legs gave that thought pause. The woman smiled and straightened out her dress, shifting the shoulders so the straps of her off-shoulder neckline fell, well, off the shoulder and not on, giving her a smile as she set her hands at her hips. “My, my, little one, your mommy should be more careful with such an adventerous soul like yourself.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The stranger raised both hands defensively, eyes wide and lips curved. “Oh, dear, no, I’m not scolding you! No need to apologize! I was the same way, myself, when I was her age. My mother had quite the handful to deal with.”

She sighed and offered the stranger her hand, surprised when she took it to feel nothing but warmth. How were her hands not wet? Come to think of it, she looked untouched by even the wind, let alone water or the dirt of the forest floor. Odd... “My name is Mari. This is Aggie. I was-- I was so busy watering Mister Carver’s yard, you see, I’m a gardener, that I hardly noticed there was a river nearby and--!”

“You take your daughter to work with you? Well,” the stranger leaned forward and pressed a finger to Aggie’s nose, who giggled. “That seems an odd practice for a woman in this day-and-age. Does your boss know about this?”

“No! But I’ve been trying to find a proper daycare, I really have! It’s just that everyone is full, and babysitters are so expensive in this neighborhood--!”

“Lucky I’ve run into you, then!” The woman reached out of her pocket-- that dress had pockets?-- and held it out for her to take. “You see, I’ve just started my own daycare service, and I’m yet to find any children to, er, look after. Now that you mention it, it must be because they’re all already in established daycare communities.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and smiled. “My name’s Catriona. I’d say you and I need each other!”

Mari had only just finished typing her home phone number into the stranger’s-- Catriona’s-- contacts before she all but shoved the phone into her hands. “Yes! Please! Thank you so much! Give me a call at 8:30 when I get off and we’ll set our schedules out, okay?”

Mari and Aggie disappeared over the hill from which they’d came, and for a moment, Catriona felt deeply satisfied. She ran one hand over her arm and sighed. “My only regret is that you and I could never bear a child.”

She could feel him, his essence, enclose around her, then, drag her into his realm with all his stars and lights and the empty black sky. There was something so reassuring about his world, something so welcoming, though his space mirrored nothing but the emptiness of the night sky and the land above the clouds. “I know, my love.” He set a hand on her shoulder, and effortlessly, she fell back against his chest, placing one hand over his own. “Though, perhaps now, we could have a family.” She glanced over her shoulder to find him looking back at her. They smiled as she laced their fingers together.

“Max! My boy! You’re just who we’re looking for!”

Max squeaked and jumped three feet in the air, clutching the family album he held squarely against his chest. Dad peeked around the corner of the kitchen, and though Zoey didn’t go to poke her head out, too, he had a feeling she was in the other room, making popcorn; she had to, otherwise it’d be left up to their dad, who had a bad habit of decking each bowl in so much black pepper and salt (and sugar?), it became inedible for anybody but himself. Max had the sneaking suspicion he planned it that way. “What? Why?”

“We’re going to get a round of D&D in! You up for a fight against an ogre? Now mind you this is very different from the ogre from the last game! This one is the king of resentment, the last one was the king of righteous unfounded anger.”

Max sighed. He got enough monster-fighting a month ago, and if he never saw another monster for as long as he lived, until he died and started roaming the world as a ghost (because he would unarguably stick around just to do sick scooter tricks in the afterlife), it would be too soon. Besides, there was something he wanted to do…

“Sorry, dad. Maybe another night.”

His dad might have called after him again, he’d been clingy like that lately, but he stuck to pretending he hadn’t heard him over the slam of his door. He padded, slowly, over to his bed and climbed atop, resting his back against the headboard as he flittered the front pages of their family album open.

I just need to think for a little while.

He stopped on the latest pictures of his mom, pictures around maybe a year, maybe a month, before… He exhaled through his nose and smiled to himself, thumb running over her face as she tried to pick out a slice of cake in the heated window of a Baxborough bakery in the upper city. He always told himself, that if he could do it again, if he could go back and say things he hadn’t said, or take back things he had-- Max grimaced.

And yet, there he was, thinking the same thing again. He hadn’t learned anything the first time around, and now…

He ran his thumb over her picture again, wondering if he’d get it right a third time.

Isaac could only take a gasp of air before he was lurching over the toilet of another state park bathroom, hands clenching the side of the bowl like safety bars on a rollercoaster. His stomach clenched and he was throwing up all over again. His hands were clammy, and his entire body was sweaty, hot, leaving the bandages on his body clinging to him like a second skin.

His stomach wavered, and for a moment he thought his body was calming, that he could finally take a moment to breath.. And then he tasted bile in his throat and his face was once again uncomfortably close to the toilet bowl.

It took another fifteen minutes for the vomiting to stop, and another five for him to clean up. He left the bathroom with his hands in his pockets, feet swaying from side to side, but he could still walk… a little.

Why was he sick? He’d thought he’d taken all of the necessary precautions to keep his wounds uninfected, keep his body healing-- what had he missed? As far as he could tell, the wound in his arm was scabbing over, as was his eye (though it still stung like a fresh wound when he cleaned his face), and he’d cauterized the wound in his abdomen without it opening up on him. That was all he had to do, right? He frowned. The lever had been rusty… had he given himself tetanus? He’d had all of his shots?

He winced as his stomach once again became unsettled, raising one hand to set it against the churning skin. Not good. He was starting to get dizzy. He winced and watched the park move on around him, trying to clear his eyes. He could make out a dog catching a frisbee in the top of his mouth, hear the proud owner egging and cheering him on to bring it back to her “like a good boy”. He could make out a couple-- he thought, were they holding hands? Locking arms? Oh no, the world was starting to spin.

Isaac paused and tried to steady himself, closing his eyes and clutching the fabric of his jacket.

He could hear children laughing, hear people jogging by and the loud music pounding out of their earphones. There were girls giggling, gossiping, and some old woman talking to the birds she was feeding. And then-- police sirens?

Isaac inhaled, sharply, hand twisting into a fist at his stomach, teeth grinding together as his aura grew to tower over him.

Then it was okay. The police cars were only passing by, only chasing down a speeding driver. He was fine. His world was fine. He didn’t notice the woman walking by, didn’t notice her notice him.

He shook his head slowly, to clear it, and took one step forward, then another shaking one, and another, and before he knew it, he was walking to the exit. His aura died down, came to sit right above his shoulders. He didn’t think it’d left him very often in the month he’d been away from Mayview. There was always danger, always something to keep a lookout for. Sometimes it was monsters, surprisingly enough, sometimes it was the spirits he was looking to spend the rest of his time undoing the evil of, and sometimes it was other people.

He took another step forward, and for a moment his vision gave out, blacked out, left him blind and unsure. He squinted and blinked, but he couldn’t move his head freely. When his vision returned, and the world around him came into clearer view, he saw why-- he was face-down on the ground, knees freshly skinned from the brush with the sidewalk, palms of his hands itching and red and stinging. He took a moment to reorient himself, and by the time he did that, he had an audience.

Isaac tried to shoot up, tried to push himself off the ground at the first site of unfamiliar shoes as his feet, but his arms had lost all strength, and he found his mouth full of splintered, cracked concrete in the next moment.

The people around him started whispering, some asking if he was okay, others asking what happened because they hadn’t seen it but they’d noticed the crowd-- crowd, crap.

You’ve got to get up, Isaac. You have to! You’ve come so far, it can’t end like this!

He took a deep breath and pressed his palms to the sidewalk again, willing his arms to work-- work, please, just for a moment-- and still, he fell back to the ground, cheek scraping against the ground. That meant his hoodie had fallen down, which meant--?

“Oh my god! Oh my god, is that that missing boy?”

Isaac grinded his teeth and gathered the strength he didn’t have, using the tops of his feet to push him forward and not his hands to pull him up. Instead, he skidded forward before he could push himself up, and when he was on his legs again, he shoved past the crowd that’d surrounded him, giving every hand that reached to grab him a small shock, incentive to keep away. No bigger than static. He bolted for the woods, pulling the hoodie back over his head and tightening it by the strings.

“Hey, wait!”

A woman’s voice trailed after him, no different than the rest, so he sucked in his grinding stomach and pressed onward.

He didn’t see a woman reach out after him, see her stumbled up to the woods and pause, or her wide eyes as she followed the trail of blood he had no idea he was leaving behind, or see her steel herself and straighten up, hands clenched at her sides.

The next one was a teenager-- younger than the first, maybe fourteen or fifteen. He was alone, on a street corner in the wealthy, artsy area of the town, performing the act of a mime for free, save for the tip jar he’d set clearly to the side. She approached him silently, head tilted, folding her arms over her chest. He’d noticed her, and in an instant he went from pulling an invisible rope to forming an square-- a box-- around himself, went to work pounding against the fake wall soundlessly. His legs slid below him, and he began raising his hands above his head as though the ceiling was-- ah, she nodded-- the box was closing in.

“Do you really feel that box of yours?” He blinked at her, and she shrugged. “Unless, of course, that’s a trade secret?”

He frowned and, rather than forgetting the box he’d “formed” around himself, he pressed open the top and climbed out of it. It was all very impressive to see, especially for a boy so young. He stood up straight, and fixed her with a glare as he crossed his arms over his chest. “A mime isn’t supposed to talk you know?”

She laughed, waving an apologetic hand. “I know, I’m sorry about that. I just, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re performing for people who… aren’t really there?”

He sucked in his cheek and glanced away. “So? Somebody could be watching me from their cozy little apartment, right?”

“I have a feeling that isn’t who you’re performing for.”

He sighed and glanced around, like he was looking for art critics to pop out of nowhere and accuse him of ruining the name of the good ol’ mime. When he looked back at her, his lips were in a thin line. “Look, lady, what do you want? I could be ruining my whole career by talking to you in costume!”

“I don’t want anything, dear, I just want to talk!” She offered him her hand. “My name is Catriona. I think I know who you’re performing for. Tell me, have you had any near-death experiences, dear?”

Isabel was all smiles as she waved Ed and Dimitri off in the evening, which was great because an all-smiles-Isabel was Ed’s favorite Isabel. Even as they came to the front of the tunnel leading to the rest of the city, they could still turn around and see her standing on the front porch of the dojo, waving whenever they’d take a moment to glance back. Ed and Dimitri laughed together and gave her another wave; this time, she laughed too and went back inside.

“I’m glad I got to see Izzy again” Ed had a habit of mumbling to himself these days, the habit of a boy often scolded for his volume, he guessed-- he hadn’t expected Dimitri to hear him.

“Ed.”

“Yeah?”

Dimitri came to a halt, and a few steps later so did Ed. Something had changed in the air, subtly, quietly, but Ed had become more familiar with the world around him, more familiar with the way his lungs seemed to grow heavy--or his heart-- in preparation. Why? Well, that was anyone’s guess. Dimitri always had a lot on his mind, was always thinking, always considering. Ed stood still and waited patiently, while Dimitri stood even stiller aside from the motion of sticking his hands in his pockets. His head was down, and still, he was looking up at him. “You and Iz are still friends, right?”

“Wh-- yes! Of course we are! Best friends! Why? Wh-was it not obvious?”

Dimitri shrugged, eyes falling to the side. “No man, it’s just… it seems like you kinda want more?”

Oh no. No. Not this again. Not from him-- not from the Master Observer of their entire dang club! Ed screamed and tossed his head back, hands pulling and tugging at his hair. “Not you too! We’re just friends! I don’t like Izzy! Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“I don’t know, man” Dimitri usually started to grin there, and for a faint moment he did, and it faded into the same thin line with a downward twitch. “ ‘ts just the way you look at her.”

Ed balled his fists at his sides, face heated enough that he hardly felt the cold air of fall, and he was sure that heat reflected on the red of his cheeks. “Well I don’t like Izzy and I wish everyone would stop” he kicked the dirt “implying I did!”

Dimitri sighed. “Whatever man,” he began walking again, moving past Ed, carrying on down the road where they’d separate-- Dimitri would return to one half of Mayview, and he would return to the other. Ed exhaled through his teeth and followed. “I just thought you should know…”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If you do like her,” Dimitri paused again, but he had no intention of looking back “you’ve got competition.”

Ed’s hands became dead weight, falling limply on either side of his legs, jaw just as loose.

#Paranatural #maxaac #imaax #edsabel #Isabel Guerra #Dimitri Danger #Ed Burger #Maxwell Puckett #Isaac O'Connor #pnat #Suzy Paranatural #Collin Paranatural #WOHT #The Monster Trilogy

9 notes · View notes

selinaneveahcrystal · 7 years

Text

Going Home—Part 3

Prompt from: @simbagirl15 Marcos and Lorna feel the baby move for the first time + discuss about the family that threw him out+ the fact that Marcos said that his family was not so much his family (so I presumed that he must have had someone he missed back home/loved dearly)

Credits to: @wereallmisfts for giving me the biggest idea about Aurora’s powers and the partial reason why Lorna can feel her baby in her tummy. So I went along the line that Aurora has powers similar to Lorna, but more specific and super fine tuned that it senses automatically the electro magnetic aura of individuals and objects and she manifests them in the form of coloured lights that are quite similar to the Aurora Borealis. But because the electro magnetism of an individual is suceptible to change because of emotions, Aurora’s ability also likes in being able to change the electromagnetic auras of an individual, which in turn affect their emotions. Something like an empath. She cans till control metal, but mildly and not as effective as Lorna because her powers lie in the more fine tuned aspects of electromagneticism. So the pros is she can cause widespread empathic situations to occur but cons is she only affects metal very vaguely. That means she can bend metal, but she can’t shape it like Magneto and Polaris can, because her power is too specific.

Continued from Part 1 and Part 2

“Lorna Dane. Lorna Diaz-Dane.” A flicker of recognition seeps into the old man’s eyes as he hears her last name. “I am the wife of your son.” She prodded his chest angrily. “And you’re nothing but a fool!” Marcos jerked her back as his father swung a fist angrily in her direction, snapping his body forward and shielding her from the blow. The shriek that fell from her mouth woke her daughter, who wailed at her interrupted slumber.

“You!” Lorna hissed angrily, one hand comforting her young child, and she swiftly pinned the large Man by his belt to the wall. “I should kill you for hitting Marcos!” She shrieked as her daughter wailed in her arms.

“Lorna!” Marcos gripped her hand tightly just as the metal chains tightened almost unbearably around the old hulking man’s throat. “Forget it! You’re scaring Aurora.” Lorna snapped to attention immediately at the mention of her daughter, and her eyes fell to her little daughter, who wailed her lungs out, little hands fisted in her shirt, tears running down her tiny face as she lost control of her powers in her distress.

Marcos and Lorna glanced at each other in alarm as the glimmering black and red lights rose slowly from their daughter’s body, and then exploded into the air, almost blanketing the entire neighbourhood.

Aurora screamed half in anger and half in terror as she clung to Lorna, her empathic powers twisting all of their emotions to rage filled ones, her intense fear and rage taking precedence over all over emotions.

“What…” Marcos watched with horror as his brother and sister cowered in a corner, their own feelings a messed up jumble of emotions. Aurora hadn’t intended to impact them, she was simply lashing out in accordance to her fear and the feedback she got from her mother’s anger.

“Lorna! You have to calm her down!” He hollered over the sudden cacophony of angry shouts as everyone in the neighborhood reacted instinctively on the rage and anger Aurora had pulled out and amplified. Fists beating flesh sounded close to their ears, and screams of pain and distress welled from almost every corner and every direction.

It only served to increase Aurora’s fear and anger, and soon screams of terror filled the air as Lorna tried to calm down her little baby, almost to no avail. Aurora quieted slightly, still sniffling momentarily as she clung to her mother almost desperately. The black red lights sparked, then dimmed to almost nothing before it resumed it’s regular purplish green hue, pretty and sparkling, as Marcos cupped some broken glass in his hands and gave his daughter a mini light show.

Aurora reached curiously for the broken glass, and Lorna snatched her hand just centimeters away from the shattered fragments, exhaling slightly in relief. Her daughter turned to her curiously for a moment before becoming content with stuffing her fingers in her mouth like all babies should, and Lorna glanced at Marcos worriedly.

“We should leave. The Sentinel Services probably would have heard of this by now.”

“See what you did here? Bringing a freak lady and freak child to my house and causing all this—” The old man didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Marcos tore his blazing fists into him, without remorse.

“You can say anything you’d like about me, but the line draws where you insult my family. My wife, my child.” The pudgy old man coughed, blood spurting from the mess of a broken nose and teeth, his face sporting some serious burns. “At the very least, I’m glad you disowned me, because I found my true family after that.” He turned towards his younger siblings. “Of course, with an exclusion of you two.” Marcos said quietly. “You’d always be my younger brother and sister. And we’ll welcome visits if you’d want to.” He smiled tentatively as the twins brightened.

“Yes!” Eliana threw her arms around Marcos before planting a kiss on Lorna’s cheek affectionately. Her fingers gently touched the chubby cheeks of her niece.

“She’s beautiful.” Lorna watched quietly with a smile as Eliana’s face widened into an adoring smile at the little girl in her arms.

“Well, she’s half of your brother.” Lorna chuckled. “So of course she’d be beautiful.” A tender smile crossed her lips.

“¡No! Eliana, tú y tu hermano no pueden visitar a Marcos, ¿entendido? ¡No lo puedo permitir!” Lorna growled as the old man interrupted them again, and she felt her daughter’s fear peak as he stalked forward, as though about to hit Eliana.

“Eliana! We’re leaving!” All head whipped around to the long forgotten Gabríel, who tossed a filled bag at his sister, a scowl on his face.

“What?” The teen stalked forward, almost boiling with anger as he walked past his father to stand next to Marcos.

“Are you deaf or you purposely didn’t hear me? Do I need to translate to Spanish for you to understand? ¡Nos vamos! ¡No nos quedaremos! ¡Vamos con Marcos!” There was almost a violent tone to his vehement voice.

“You cannot leave these premises—”

“Oh yeah? Try me. We’re nineteen, way past the legal age to make a living outside without your help, thank you very much.” Gabriel snapped. “I will not have you insult El hermano and his child in front of me no longer! Puedes negarme todo lo que me importa, ¡todavía voy con Marcos!” Lorna stared, slightly stunned as the older twin grabbed Eliana’s hand and dragged her out of the compound. “I packed your stuff for you already–”

“You went through my stuff? Gabriel you—” Their squibbling voices echoed from the front gate.

“Hey! You coming or not?” Marcos stared after his younger siblings with a brighter twinkle in his eyes, and Lorna slipped her hand into his.

“Well, who knew?” She teased, still bouncing their daughter slightly on her hip. “I told you they’d want you back. They love you too much not to care.” She murmured. “Let’s go.” She pulled a stupefied Marcos forward with a chuckle, and waved her hand, barring the gates with reinforced steel as the hulking man started after them.

“You’re not following us.” She glared back at the man her husband used to call father. “I’m never having you and your poisonous air near my child ever again.” The metal gates bent inwards threateningly, pointing their sharpened heads at the old man, before both Lorna and Marcos disappeared down the drive, with two extra teens in tow.

~~~~

¡No! Eliana, tú y tu hermano no pueden visitar a Marcos, ¿entendido? ¡No lo puedo permitir! : No! Eliana, you and your brother will not visit Marcos, understand? I do not allow it!

¡Nos vamos! ¡No nos quedaremos! ¡Vamos con Marcos! : We’re leaving! We’re not staying! We’re leaving with Marcos!

Puedes negarme todo lo que me importa, ¡todavía voy con Marcos! : You can disown me for all I care, but I’m still leaving with Marcos!

And yes. I used Google Translate for Spanish so it’s trash. :p

@eclipsepolarisxauroraborealis

And we’re done with this prompt! Hope it meets expectations. Again xD I actually wrote this while at work so 😂😂😂

#fanfic: the gifted #the gifted #lorna dane #marcos diaz #eclaris #fanfiction #writing #i have a trashy eclaris heart.#family issues

10 notes · View notes

aurorawolfa · 7 years

Text

Team REIN

-Going to just write down stuff about each individual member, because I really need to solidify things.

Ray Day:

-Ray Day, the leader of team REIN. Ray’s from a royal family back in Atlas, the Day family is a group of incredibly powerful hunters. He has some big shoes to fill in, but his family isn’t exactly the most willing to let him try.

-Ray often struggles with leading, but has Gale as his ‘deputy’ for hard decisions.

-He’s 6′5 ft tall.

-His freckles glow at night. It’s a common Day physical feature.

-His fairy-tale is the Lindworm, but he takes obvious parallels to Apollo and Helios.

-His weapon, Gilded Hyacinth, is a reference to Apollo’s flowers.

-The team will often use Ray as a battery for electronics.

-Ray has woken up a few times covered in peoples’ scrolls.

-The Day family is a set of famous hunters back in Atlas. They have sun-based semblances typically, and are highly regarded as efficient hunters throughout history. The newest heirs to the title are Ray and his twin.

-While Ray is technically the older twin, everyone regards him as the younger ‘bastard’ twin that they didn’t want.

-Ray’s sigil was altered by the family, after discovering his terrible semblance, so he wasn’t allowed to have the ‘true’ family sigil.

-Ray’s twin brother, Voski, is the younger twin. He remains in Atlas with the rest of the family.

-Ray was banished from the family when he wished to attend Beacon instead of Atlas.

-Ray upon becoming a successful hunter, has been called by the family to return. He has yet to reply. He doesn’t want to deal with them.

-Ray’s semblance has serious backlash if not expended properly. It results in a burn-to-touch monstrosity, Ray’s little secret, as he has trouble controlling the more powerful side of his semblance. It’s a horrible transformation he avoids.

-This also leads to intense fatigue if not monitored.

-Emi’s helped him learn to love and accept that side of himself, starting to use it more in battle as he isn’t ashamed of using it.

-To avoid issues, Ray typically carries around extra batteries to charge when he needs to relieve energy.

-Ray treasures Gale’s advice.

-Ray is in a romantic relationship with Gale.

-Ray is bisexual, panromantic.

-Ray sometimes wishes Gale got the leadership role, but forgets he proves himself in dangerous situations time and time again.

-Ray will die for anyone who’s just nice to him. The man invests so much in people who believe in him.

-Iris is responsible for his clothes, as he arrived in less fancy clothing. She thought it was rude his family didn’t properly dress a prince.

-Ray wants to be a teacher one day maybe, he really enjoys inspiring little hunters/huntresses.

-Ray has a one track mind with getting the job done, but once you get him to laugh he’s immediately distracted. It’s why he loves Gale so much. He gets him to calm down when he’s stressed out.

-Ray desperately wanted to be the best leader he possibly could, but has mellowed out and accepted mistakes will happen.

-Ray is the medic of the crew. He has the most medical knowledge and will personally attend his own teammates.

-Ray lives with Gale, the two are inseparable. They wander Remnant, and often take tasks to eradicate Grimm.

-They have like several huts they’ve bought across Remnant, scattered all over the place.

-Other members of Team REIN often crash there, it’s not uncommon for them to cross paths at one of the ‘vacation’ homes.

-Ray has encountered his brother while travelling with Gale, and proceeded to conquer him in a duel of honor.

-Despite Voski’s suggestion, Ray decided not to slay him, and left him.

-”Tell your parents I’m never coming back.”

-Ray prefers to fight up close with his pole arm, and often will aim it at an enemy’s face to fire a few potshots at a target.

-Ray sings like a Baritone with Gale, when asked. He’s not very good at it, but he likes to humor Gale with singsong responses.

-Ray likes to collect things he just ‘likes’ when they travel. All the houses they own are covered in rocks, weird trinkets, stuffed animals, and numerous other ‘random’ collections that Ray likes to bring home.

-He really has a passion for collecting stuffed animals, as he never was allowed toys as a child. Gale enables him even at this age.

-Ray is used to his friends climbing all over him. He often carries Iris on his shoulders.

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

Eminence Gagnon:

-Emi’s fairytale is Bluebeard.

-Emi is 5′8 ft tall.

-Lost child from Mistral who arrived at Vale.

-Doesn’t really know where her mother is, but is quite sure her dad is ‘gone’.

-That’s just the story she tells. She knows damn well where her family is.

-Emi was raised by a thieving family in Mistral that was selling her younger sister off to some noble to pay a debt.

-Because of this, Emi’s relationship to her parents immediately strained.

-Emi trained with the local kids of Mistral’s Academy who were willing to teach her a few tricks.

-Emi noticed her sister was distressed and discovered that the noble had a history of wives disappearing from the public eye.

-Emi gave simple instructions to her sister, ordering she stand by her nightstand as soon as they are getting ready for bed.

-The night her younger sister was stuck with the noble for their first time together, Emi shot and killed him over a seven thousand yards away with her sniper rifle.

-It was discovered the noble was using is semblance to hypnotize his wives and force them into the basement into ‘horrifically graphic circumstances’ in the news.

-Emi’s sister, Carmine, inherited his fortune and estate because she was the last wife.

-Emi left.

-Emi is capable of a unique ‘Lock On/Targeting System’ that makes it impossible for her to miss.

-Because of this, that’s the reason her primary weapon is a sniper rifle.

-She misses only if her attention is diverted to some other target. She can only target one thing at a time.

-Her melee weapon is in the backpack her sniper rifle transforms from, attached to the rifle. She’s not so good up close, but does carry a few daggers attached to the rifle.

-She prefers to throw them, but her giant sword also works.

-Emi is an asexual grayromantic.

-Emi likes to collect a few of Gale’s feathers to decorate herself, since he doesn’t mind.

-Emi really dislikes visiting Mistral, even if she enjoys the culture, she just doesn’t want to run into her parents.

-Emi writes to her sister sometimes.

-Emi takes on the persona of the playful, cheerful member, but is down with murder at any point and second.

-It is very quick and almost worrying how rapid she can switch between these moods.

-Emi personally helped Gale win Ray’s affections.

-Emi is a fantastic aunt to all of Gale’s kids.

-Emi enjoys travelling and seeing the sights of the world, but always wonder if she’ll get bored eventually.

-Emi has a weird fascination for daggers from different kingdoms.

-Emi often cuddles up to Ray because he’s a literal heater.

-This also includes cuddling up to the other team members of REIN, but Gale’s feathers are a second best to Ray.

-Emi often has a hard time telling if people are joking or not, because she views her entire life as a joke.

-Ray’s good at grounding her.

-Emi will often immediately lose focus if anyone is mortally injured.

-Emi doesn’t know the meaning of self preservation.

-Despite being the sniper, Emi is the member to get the most injured.

-Emi thinks its a good idea to try to snipe someone in close quarters if someone’s in danger.

-Emi really enjoys the food from Beacon, but prefers the fashion from Haven.

-It’s been tested that Emi can still never miss even if drunk.

-Emi has a plan to inevitably go to Atlas and assassinate Ray’s family.

-Also Iris’s parents.

-She has not told them.

-Iris designed her clothes rather often, but Emi only started to wear them after Iris asked if she was okay. Iris was the first to find out about Emi’s family.

-During initiation, Ray was her partner until they were team REIN with the other two.

-She is considering accepting an offer at a polyamorous relationship with Gale and Ray.

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

Iris Bowe:

-Dust princess supreme. Her family owned a tiny dust shop in Beacon, and has led to her being well versed in using dust.

-5′4 ft of fury, she will slash your ankles.

-A famous seamstress and fashionista, runs a fashion company for hunters/huntresses. It’s just simply called ‘Bowe.’

-She’s originally from Vale.

-Semblance is capable of numerous things, such as copies of herself, ‘armor’, elevation, etc. Incredibly flexible.

-She struggled with her semblance a lot as a child.

-Changes her appearance so fucking often.

-Her fairytale/mythos is the Goddess of Rainbows, Iris.

-Will often craft clothes to others as a gift.

-Other titles: ‘Wandering Seamstress’, ‘Bowestring’, ‘Scissor Sister’.

-Iris’s eyes reflect color drastically! Her eyes typically change color to her surroundings, or whatever she’s looking at. It can be very spooky if someone’s wearing white, she appears to have no pupils with that color.

-This is always hilarious when she visits Atlas.

-Iris’s weapon is a reference to her favorite flower.

-Iris had a much older sister, Archer Bowe, who died in a hunting accident.

-Iris’s family proceeded to forget she existed as they grieved for their lost daughter.

-Iris raised herself after the incident, providing her own food, clothes, and general well being.

-Iris very vividly can still remember the long walks to school by herself.

-Iris removed her family sigil from herself and adapted her own after these events.

-It’s stitched into all her clothes as well.

-Iris would steal from her family to get her own money, and started selling dust to Faunus her father refused to serve.

-She did all of this at an incredibly young age.

-Started researching stocks and investments really early in her life.

-Iris was a wallflower at school. Unnoticeable, none too brilliant, and generally just average and not spectacular.

-Iris had a small fortune for herself about the time she was accepted into Beacon.

-Iris redid her entire appearance upon joining Beacon, becoming deeply invested in her looks and her skills.

-Iris graduated Beacon with high test scores and generally spectacular performance.

-She was never satisfied. Having seen Archer’s grades, Iris wept bitterly every time she was less than Archer.

-Iris is heavily invested in clothing, and is constantly creating outfits.

-She wears something new everyday.

-Iris carries around a huge sketchbook in her satchel with new outfit ideas.

-She loves gifting clothes to others.

-She dressed her entire team.

-Iris is known as a talented seamstress, but she is also well versed in building weapons. Specialty: Swords.

-Iris is a powerful huntress with her hard-light manipulation. Her semblance is incredibly powerful and flexible, but she herself cannot take many hits before falling.

-Iris is most famous for using her semblance to guillotine Grimm.

-Iris has a problem of running away when she’s threatened by intense emotions that upset her.

-Iris worked as a messenger for the headmasters. While scrolls exist, Iris in her mastery of her semblance upon her adulthood, and won the trust of Ozpin, being gifted a small token of magic to enhance her abilities to ‘travel at the speed of light.’ She can teleport to the four major cities, but at the cost of incredible exhaustion.

-Iris bought her own house a little outside of Beacon, but also has a headquarters at Atlas.

-Because Iris has learned many secrets of Vale this way, Iris has a bitter attitude towards the headmasters.

-Iris often just wanders from city to city, enjoying fashion and helping mend broken clothes.

-Iris is pansexual and panromantic..

-Iris has no chill. Zero.

-Struggles to keep emotions in check, which can be problematic when fighting.

-Iris will visibly ‘signal’ while using her semblance, but doesn’t need too. She likes to ‘preform’ when using her semblance, and if actually threatened, she’ll stop playing around.

-Iris is incredibly petty to those who wrong her, and will personally make sure they suffer every second she has the chance.

-Iris is team mom towards team REIN, and often is the one making sure everyone eats/sleeps/etc.

-Iris herself, skips all of these things.

-Gale often drags her to bed to sleep, because this woman really sucks at taking care of herself.

-”What took you so long?” “What’s the point of living if I can’t have eyeliner that’s perfect?”

-Iris is very extra.

-Iris, despite her semblance being mostly used for ranged combat, enjoys being up close with her weapon.

-Iris scolds young hunters/huntresses wearing complicated clothes that could cause problems when fighting. Those who graduate she leaves alone.

-A real glass cannon woman in fighting, she doesn’t really care.

-Despite her incredible accomplishments, her company, her everything, Iris is incredibly lonely and thinks herself worthless if she can’t compare to Archer.

-Iris does not talk to her parents. She heard her father died recently, but didn’t attend the funeral.

-Iris and Gale are incredibly close.

-Iris’s favorite color is red.

-Iris is capable of firing her bow with her feet, but she hates doing it.

-Iris has attended numerous balls and fundraisers, and often gets bored within the first ten minutes. She’ll be found sketching in her book with new designs she’ll be inspired with from others’ outfits.

-Iris is often curious about others ideas for fashion.

-She’s also incredibly cynical about the future, but tries to hide this from her teammates.

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

Navy Gale:

-’Deputy’ of the crew.

-He comes from Mistral, but his family moved to Vale when he was young. He doesn’t remember Mistral.

-Mother is an incredible inventor and has made a handful of famous advancements in technology to help disabled and faunus alike.

-Father is a famous hunter who often visits and supports his son in his endeavors.

-Has three little triplet sisters who are close to graduating soon.

--He’s a transboy.

-6′8 ft tall!

-Iris makes his clothes, because he doesn’t have any fucking hands.

-His semblance involves silencing others, screaming, and fucking with sound.

-Despite having manipulation of sound, he can’t have his semblance up all the time, and has trouble training his voice to sound how he likes.

-He sort of just lives in the woods with his husband and kids and does Grimm hunting with his crew when he’s called upon.

-Upon adulthood and long past graduation, with his sound manipulation, Gale is capable of phasing through things in his way. Inanimate. He doesn’t trust himself to phase through a person.

-Gale is married to Ray.

-Gale’s a romantic at heart and loves serenading his husband.

-Gale is panromantic and pansexual.

-Gale’s feathers fall out a lot, but he doesn’t mind that people collect them.

-His wingspan is absolutely ridiculous and makes it difficult to go anywhere.

-He gets sick pretty often, but doesn’t let it bother him.

-Gale has several children he’s adopted, living a little outside Beacon. None of them are old enough to train yet, but he intends to train them soon. They’re all abandoned Faunus kids.

-Gale doesn’t really like travelling like everyone else, but really enjoys flying long distances.

-Gale is capable of carrying someone with his feet, but not very far. It’s uncomfortable for everyone involved.

-Getting hugged by Gale will lead to getting feathers in your mouth.

-Gale loves his teammates so much and gets emotional thinking about how supportive they are.

-Gale hates when he squeaks.

-Iris was Gale’s partner during initiation at Beacon.

-Gale loves spending time with his visiting father, and letting him be a jolly grandpa.

-Gale is incredibly obsessive about shiny objects he collects from adventures.

-With Iris’s help, Gale has learned basic knitting with his feet.

-Gale enjoys music immensely, and listens to it quietly where ever he goes.

-Gale also collects feathers he finds on his trips.

-Gale likes to surprise his husband with gifts whenever he can.

-Gale uses his semblance more than he uses his anklet, since it’s a pain.

-Ray and Gale are very close lovers, but also understand each other and what decisions they’ll make during combat. They’re a scary combo.

-Gale often is the one to carry his teammates to safety.

-Gale is the only one to get Iris to stop thinking about being better than Archer for two seconds.

-Gale loves singing. He has an incredible range due to his semblance, and loves singing songs with his crew.

-Iris is the only one who can really keep up with him, but is nowhere near his skill level.

-Gale has trouble putting his binder on in the morning, and often has to have a friend/his husband help him take it off/on.

-Gale likes coming to schools to talk to kids with Ray about being a hunter. He enjoys just being around children and talking about his adventures.

-He can and will pick up one of his teammates who are being grumpy and fly them around till they either scream for mercy or finally tell him what’s wrong.

-Iris is 90% of the time the one he has to pick up.

-Loves every set of clothes Iris has made him.

#rwby ocs #team REIN #navy gale #iris bowe #ocs #ray day #emi faulkner

5 notes · View notes

azworkingdogs · 5 years

Text

Littermate Syndrome

I love puppies! I absolutely LOVE puppies. In some ways, I LIVE for puppies. I have made a career out of puppy and dog training for the past 25 years.

I even love being smothered at the bottom of a litter of delightful, lovable puppy pile.

When my breeder friends breed a litter of literally any kind of puppy, I am one of the first to beg to come and play with them at all life stages.

I love everything from bottle feeding, to building obstacle courses, and taking puppies out to socialize.

I have even worked with a couple of Assistance Dog organizations that raised numerous litters of puppies. Teaching puppies new and exciting things is thrilling and rewarding.

What I don’t love is the idea of inexperienced humans and pet owners adopting or buying littermates or two or more puppies.

Why?

Why on earth would I not want two puppies to be adopted or sold together?

Because it compounds the difficulty and investment of raising a good canine companion exponentially! A good breeder also would not want you to take littermates, they have seen the carnage. A good dog trainer will also dissuade you… it may give us extra work but it isn’t worth it to our clients.

When I was a child, I wanted two dogs. My mom allowed us to have one Chow Chow but as a human that loved animals I wanted two dogs. My mother’s excuse was always that if we had two dogs, that they would bond to one another and not to us as a family.

At the time, I was angry and I thought my mother was making excuses. And, in some ways I think that she was , but interestingly after 25 years of experience of watching the dynamics of (littermates specifically) she was partially right.

As an adult, I have almost always had two to three dogs in my home as pets. Most often they have been spaced a few months apart and therefore we (my human family and I) have had an opportunity to spend time with and bond with those puppies.

Littermates, however, spend 90% of their time or more spending time bonding with each other.

These littermates then become dependent on one another for almost literally EVERYTHING. After a short period of time they literally think they can’t function without one another. This is called “littermate syndrome.”

Be sure to get them separate crates. I might even consider crating in different rooms to give them more independent. I like plastic crates because they are darker and more den like. Check them out here, these are even airline approved.

Dispelling the Myths

First off, before the hate mail piles in; no scenario is 100% full proof. There are people out there who mutt-led through the puppy stage and their puppies did alright. There are even people out there who think their puppies are better off together. However, I would argue that last point.

2 Puppies are Easier to Train

You may think that you will have to spend less time by adopting littermates, but nothing is further from the truth.

Many people think that it will only double their work load, but unfortunately, they are wrong it is probably ten times more work.

Following one puppy around and making sure that they get outside and potty appropriately, every 2 hours, after meals, after drinking, after playing, and after sleeping is maddening with one puppy. Now try keeping an eye on TWO puppies. You may think that they will just go potty at the same time, but they won’t.

They will gain bladder control at different times. Their bladders will fill at different times and they will consume different amounts of food and water, even if you try and control it. One puppy will wake before the other and begin playing with the other before you can catch them and get them outside.

And, when one has a potty training accident in the house, even if the other was doing really well, they are both likely to backslide. Plus, you will have two potty training accidents to clean up.

And, that is just “potty training”, imagine for a moment, trying to teach competing puppies to do “down stays”?

Puppies are like toddlers, they are sweet and kind, but they have short attention spans and they often compete with one another for everything that they get. And, if one gets something the other doesn’t there is likely to be a temper tantrum.

Just training two puppies efficiently requires separating them. And, most dog owners complain that whichever puppy is not being worked is SCREAMING in his or her crate, or outside or from another room.

All of these things are much easier if you have an adult dog, or even an older puppy that has already worked through them by themselves.

For instance I once had puppies that were about 6 months apart, but by the time I brought puppy number two home, puppy number one knew most of her obedience, was potty trained, and happily crate trained. She had also already bonded well with me because I had devoted this time to her.

Certainly, they got into a bit more trouble and required a little more time because they were both young together but it was nothing like having two puppies the same age, or littermates, or siblings without training.

Siblings are Easier to socialize?

The truth is often the opposite.

Think about it, they have each other, why would they need to let someone else into “their pack”? This is often seen as they grow and reach sexual maturity (around a year to 2 old) even if they are spayed or neutered.

You often also end up with one very dominant littermate and one more submissive littermate and neither is typically good for the psyche.

Studies have been done on lots of human twins (slightly different than “littermates” of course).

But when raised together there is often a very dominant twin, or the outgoing twin and the submissive twin. The dominant twin handles all life’s complex behaviors while the submissive twin follows. This certainly isn’t the greatest situation if the dominant twin or dominant puppy can’t have life the way he wants, or if the submissive puppy has to make decisions or spend anytime alone.

Twin Escalation Syndrome is an actual “syndrome” seen in human twins, that I believe can also be seen with sibling dogs or littermates.

This behavior is characterized by misbehavior tantrums that can exponentially escalate between the two siblings. In this case, both twins or littermates are trying to be the dominant and one puppy’s bad behavior escalates to the second puppy throwing an even bigger fit to get the attention. As with humans, I believe that this back and forth in bad behavior can degenerate quickly until the behaviors are unbearable.

Eventually, children can be reasoned with, however we can never communicate with our dogs in the exact same way because they don’t speak our language.

Like mentioned before, this makes for more than double the work in a normal situation, if you end up with two puppies or even two adult littermates who are constantly vying to out due one another with negative behavior, you will end up miserable.

It is recommended to separate twins or littermates with this problem, to employ distraction, and try to reduce competition (which is much more difficult in dogs because, of course they cannot be sat down and reasoned with). Dogs are often very competitive mammals.

As with any bad behavior, remain calm. Some of these dogs will feed off of your anger or the escalation in the situation.

Dogs often don’t understand “human anger” but they do realize that their human doesn’t look or act the same so they feed off this energy with more often than not negative or excited energy. As hard as it is to remain calm it is essential for your sanity, eventually.

I am a big believer that dogs mirror our behavior, when we are calm they tend to be more calm, when we are upset, angry or sad they don’t recognize our pheromones and can act out in an attempt to make us feel better. Try not to put your dog in that situation.

Recently I was in a car accident, and my dog recognized that something was just “wrong”. She wanted to nest on top of me and pounce my kidneys for a week (not exactly conducive to healing). However, in this situation, as with some mourning and loss situations our out of our control. I felt horrible, but I still felt bad that my behavior was causing my dog distress. Remember that trying to control our behaviors and mental states is best for them and us!

Littermates will Learn From Each Other

This one is a double edged sword, because it is both true and false at the same time.

Yes, littermates will learn from each other, but often they are imparting negative behaviors and sharing shenanigans together.

They will eat your carpets or walls together, they will dig up your flower bed, or they will dig under your fence together; but rarely will they learn what we consider good behavior from one another.

Dogs are dogs, and dogs have a different guideline of rules and ethics and codes that they follow that has simply nothing to do with humans.

Dogs do things that are fun and feel good.

Lying still for hours, avoiding chewing naughty objects, and not playing too hard don’t even enter into their thought process.

They are going to do things that feel good to them as dogs, like stealing food and shredding your underwear, or chasing the cat together.

Littermates will Entertain Each Other

This one is probably true most of the time, but it isn’t always healthy.

Dogs need to learn to be independent to be successful in life.

Imagine NEVER leaving your mother or your husband, or wife?

Having some alone time is crucial to any animal or human’s psyche.

Yes, they can play together and they should play together but they should learn that they can also play alone or play with just you.

We recently had one of two littermates in our veterinary clinic to be tested for a very specific disease.

Financially two Siblings Isn’t Much More than One

Siblings Always Love Each Other

Often times the worst dog fights and aggression I have ever seen is from littermates. Sibling rivalry is a very real and very deadly condition.

Once dogs reach sexual maturity (even if you spay or neuter them), they can often retaliate about who can be in charge. Of course staying sexually intact makes this much worse, but I have also seen littermates that go from being best friends to wanting to kill one another at the sight of each other.

Think about it… twins can also suffer from a form of this; the difference is that most twins only work through some resentment issues and few if any become homicidal. How would you like to have to share EVERYTHING??

There were times I didn’t want to share with my older sister and vice versa, but thankfully we had a few years between us so the resentment was a bit less. I didn’t have to share all my clothes, all my toys, all my food, and all of my attention.

Littermates are expected to do all of that, and sometimes their beds. Some people even make the mistake of kenneling their sibling dogs together. This means, they literally never get a break from each other.

Can you imagine getting frustrated or even angry at a person or even your significant other that you literally never got a break from? Either you would form an unhealthy dependent relationship, or you would likely form unhealthy anger and aggression. Neither are healthy, of course! Healthy Pet also published an article on littermate syndrome.

But, often these cases need the assistance of a boarded veterinary behaviorist after one or the other has incurred numerous fights and stitches.

I had a potential client who heard me talking about being a trainer at a restaurant last week, he followed his story about sibling German Shepherd Dogs with photos of the bloody mayhem and that one dog had lost an ear. This had been the latest of half a dozen dog fights. Both were 2 years old and of course got along fabulously occasionally.

The truth is, few dogs fight 100% of the time. There are a few dogs that will do anything they can to get to one another, with the desire to kill the other. But most dogs will get along the majority of the time, until they don’t. It is still not healthy and can still end with the death of one of the dogs.

Because he was in denial about needing to separate these dogs until they were evaluated, put on a behavior modification program, under go basic obedience through advanced obedience, and consider medications to help ease the process; I referred him to a boarded veterinary behaviorist at the closest veterinary medical school.

Sure, there are success stories out there. I know of people who have littermates who have been able to handle some of these problems as they arise, but most people do not have the time or inclination to deal with the carnage of two pups at one time.

The post Littermate Syndrome appeared first on TheDogTrainingSecret.com.

from TheDogTrainingSecret.com http://bit.ly/2JZSGTJ via IFTTT

#IFTTT #TheDogTrainingSecret.com

0 notes

hottytoddynews · 7 years

Link

Jeff Johnson, 55, left a chaotic technology life in Jackson and moved to quaint Oxford, returning to the apparel business.

Johnson wakes up as the birds chirp before sunrise, five minutes to 5 a.m. He immediately feeds his family’s boxer and cat, then sips on his coffee while catching up on the latest business fashion blogs.

“I’m never reading about what the Kardashian’s wore last night, but about who is making money and the big fashion industries,” he said.

He said everyone is looking for discount stores, causing big stores to lose money. Nieman Marcus has Last Call, Nordstrom has Nordstrom Rack, Saks Fifth Avenue has Saks off 5th.

“And obviously the Internet is the great divide,” he said.

After catching up on the latest news, Johnson opens his store, Nella, a women’s clothing store, between 7:30 a.m. and 8 a.m.

Jeff Johnson in his store. Photo by Addis Olive

His day is packed, making phone calls about products with customers and East Coast vendors.

He pays bills and checks the store’s Instagram to see what items are trending.

“We probably sell five to eight things from Instagram every week,” he said.

After working in the morning, he usually leaves around lunchtime if it’s not too hectic. He usually stays until 5:30 p.m. to prep for the next morning.

Nella is located between First National Bank Oxford and University Sporting Goods. It is an elegant and colorful women’s apparel, crossover store. Johnson said that means any age woman can shop there, from college students to older women.

Johnson was born in Yazoo City and found himself back in Oxford only a few years ago. He attended Ole Miss, was a member of Phi Delta Theta fraternity, and worked for The Daily Mississippian. He majored in marketing because “there wasn’t anything like IMC (integrated marketing communications) at the time.”

At his first job, he worked at a big men’s store, similar to Hinton & Hinton on the Square, for 11 years in Jackson.

After 11 years, he got a job in technology at a large company called Ergon. He sold industrial computers to telecom, military, and other big suppliers. He often flew to Illinois for business. That job lasted about three years.

“I kind of had a hankering mid-way through that year to get back into apparel,” he said. “So I kept in touch with the owner of Duvall’s, bought this space, and now it’s Nella.”

The outside of Nella, a women’s clothing store. Photo by Addis Olive

The store was named after Johnson’s little sister, Katherine Ella Johnson, who is 18 years younger than Johnson and currently the Delta Gamma housemother on campus.

“There’s a lot of competition in Oxford,” he said. “But there’s a good pace here. It was a great way to leave Jackson. Jackson and Memphis have similar issues with crime, infrastructure and stuff like that.”

After being in the technology business for so long, Johnson had an epiphany in Nordstrom that he wanted to go back into apparel.

“I walked into a Nordstrom in Dallas,” he said. “It had just been redone, and there was this guy sitting there playing the piano. I looked at my wife and said: “This is kind of crazy, but I think I will go back into the clothing business.’”

Johnson said selling women’s clothing is easier than selling men’s clothing. “The reason I don’t work in menswear is because nobody wears a coat to work anymore,” he said.

Jeff Johnson working with his employer. Photo by Addis Olive

Johnson’s family members help with the business.

“My wife works in the back as a bookkeeper,” he said. “My daughter, who is a senior, works on the floor.”

Johnson is a member of the Chamber of Commerce and helps out with Oxford Square Lines, about 30 stores that put on three free family-friendly events each year.

“We just did our Easter event, and I got a kid from Oxford High to dress up in an Easter bunny suit to take pictures with the children,” he said. “We ended up shooting 11,000 pictures on that Saturday before Easter.”

Johnson’s biggest lesson about women’s apparel is: “Always buy too little,” he said. “You can always call NYC or LA and get something shipped immediately.”

In the early days, Johnson said he would fill out an entire order form, then wouldn’t have any room for the extra clothes in the store.

“Really go slow on inventory and cut lines that aren’t selling quickly,” he said.

Johnson said what makes Nella unique is they try not to carry what other stores in Oxford carry.

Kaelyn Sreenan, retailer at Nella

Kaeyln Sreenan, 21, is an IMC major with a minor in business and a public relations specialization from Jacksonville, Florida, who works at Nella.

“I want to be a self-sustained hard working woman to prove something to myself,” she said. “I would love to work in fashion marketing/PR and or PR and marketing for covering major events.”

Sreenan will have worked at Nella one on June 1st. She said Nella has a great work atmosphere, and she’s happy she came to Johnson freshman year looking for a job.

“When I went to him my freshman year, he told me he did not hire students until their junior year,” he said. “So the last day of my sophomore year, I went to him and said: ‘OK, I’m a junior.’ The next thing you knew, I was working at Nella.”

A typical workday for Sreenan is arriving early to straighten the racks, making sure all tags are tucked in on hanging clothes, and that the jeans are in size order on tables. While straightening the racks, she checks to see what new merchandise came in to become familiar with the brand and the style.

“Then I go on our work computer to look at Instagram and see how our page looks and what other pages are posting,” she said. “We usually try to take some photos to post to our Instagram for the next couple weeks.”

As people walk in the store, she and coworkers engage with customer. Before they close, we always make sure all the racks are straightened and finger spaced apart so it looks good for people walking by at night.

Jeff Johnson and Nella’s Top Ten Fashion Trends for Summer

1. Anything with a raw hem on jeans. 2. Less distressed jeans. 3. Anything that’s the color blush. 4. Lanyard jewelry. You can dress it up or down. 5. $40–$60 sunglasses. 6. Tinsel, a type of fake denim. 7. Floral prints (not Johnson’s favorite, but it sells). 8. Bohemian “boho” type shirts 9. Faux suede sets. 10. Colored anorak’s (jackets) (Johnson’s personal favorite). 11. (Bonus) athleisure.

Kaelyn Sreenan’s Top 10 Fashion Trends For Summer

1. Denim, especially patchwork denim. 2. Small block heels. 3. Stair-stepper and raw hem jeans. 4. Soludos shoes. 5. Comfy, but cute sneakers, with a little height to them. 6. Colorful, bold earrings. 7. Vertical stripes. 8. Nude coloring in everything, especially handbags. 9. Vintage T-shirts. 10. Bigger than your normal size denim shorts that hang on your waist.

By Addis Olive. Read more stories like this on Oxford Stories.

For questions or comments, email [email protected].

The post Oxford Stories: Oxford’s Nella Clothing Boutique Offers 20 Summer Fashion Tips appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

#hottytoddy #olemiss #oxfordms #oxford ms #mississippi #university of mississippi #the grove

0 notes