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kemakoshume · 1 year ago

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Down by the River — Nanami Kento x Tiana (Disney)

Summary: In the early 1930s, Nanami embarks on a business trip to the South, where the Crescent City awaits. His journey begins with new connections and the enticing allure of Southern cuisine. America might not be so bad after all.

Tags: Crack Relationships, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Why Did I Write This?, Fluff, Business Trip, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Drinking & Talking, Comfort No Hurt

a/n: The fan edits got me. My Elsa x Jack Frost shipper is jumping out for this. I have to say... this is easily the most random thing I've ever written, but it helped break my writer's block, so woohoo! Write weird shit more often, y'all. Also posted on AO3.

America was Nanami’s least favorite place to travel.

Work had taken him all over. He’d seen all of Japan, every nook and cranny—old and new. He’d been to China more times than he could count; his Cantonese was better now than before, and he could make his way around without an attendant. Asia was his domain; he’d grown used to recognizing the surnames and affiliations that mattered, what gestures were niceties in one place, and a way to get mowed down in a fit of rage in another.

America was a different beast altogether. It was a wild and enigmatic land that kept Nanami perpetually on edge and consistently uneasy in his own skin. The places were chaotic—New York and San Francisco. Wall Street and Pacific Heights, most often. Two opposing coasts, filled to the brim with people capitalizing most on those with the least.

White-collar crime and cocaine—that was what Nanami knew of the States. It made him wish he hadn’t learned English; he wouldn’t have to live with as much as he knew if he hadn’t.

Despite not liking it, he’d grown used to it though—the coasts and the insanity that happened on each of them.

The South, in contrast, was wholly unfamiliar territory. He’d never been and wasn’t quite sure what to expect as the steamboat continued down the river, churning water and whistling every few minutes as it continued down the path. He'd heard of the common things: the chambermaids and the sharecropping, the stark divide.

Asia had its things, too, though, so he tried not to judge. He was headed to New Orleans for one simple thing: to meet with the sugar baron and solidify a trade deal. His sugar for their textiles.

Simple, tedious. Safer than sorcery.

The ride into the city was surprisingly comfortable. He lounged in a reclined chair on the deck, his eyes hidden behind shades that concealed his exhaustion from the arduous journey across borders—across seas. The sky painted itself in alluring hues of lavender and rose, casting a serene glow over the waters of the Mississippi, like spilled oil paint.

The air hung heavy with the scent of magnolia blossoms, their perfume an intoxicating blend of sweetness and decay. Spanish moss, soft as bundles of silk, swayed languidly from the cypress trees that lined the riverbank, caressed by the gentle breeze.

The Crescent City, that’s what his boss had called it. The birthplace of jazz.

Nanami couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued by the prospect of it.

"Please collect your belongings, everyone," a petite deckhand announced, dressed in long corduroy trousers and a cute puffed hat. "We'll be docking in port in five minutes."

Nanami adjusted his glasses, straightening out the legs of his slacks as he made his way to the port side of the boat and watched the city come into view along with the sound. The bustling swing of music was expected, but Nanami hadn't anticipated enjoying it so much. The masterful wail of saxophones, the sultry croon of trumpets, and the deep, resonant throb of bass greeted him as he filed off the boat.

Other men exited the boat before him. Some wore business suits, while others wore Navy uniforms, and a few were in Army attire. Most bobbed their heads along to the music, while some outright danced. People lined the port, leaning on the ropes to catch a glimpse of the arrivals they'd come down to the harbor to greet and welcome home.

The city had a vibe reminiscent of New York, perhaps, but it felt more homey. It felt good in his soul.

"Hello, gentlemen. Good to see you all safe and sound!"

Among the welcoming crowd, a young woman stepped forward with a beaming smile, scanning the group until she spotted Nanami, skipping over to him. Her big blue eyes shone as she looked up at him, tilting her body to get a good look at his face. “You must be Kento, right?” Nanami nodded. She must be the daughter. "Wonderful! My name's Charlotte," she introduced herself, coupled with a sweet giggle. "You can call me Lottie, though. Everybody does."

Nanami tipped his head in a subdued bow, a gesture that the American women found charming.

“Pleased to meet you, Lottie.”

She smiled like a young girl, all cherry pink cheeks and tight lips. It was cute, demure in a way that spelled immaturity rather than modesty.

Not Nanami’s type.

“My daddy told me to come ‘round here to collect you. Is this all you brought with you?” She pointed to his briefcase and the small musette bag on his shoulder. He nodded again. “That’s light. Are you hungry? Have you eaten? That Trans-Pacific is a long way’s journey to get here. I bet you’re starving.”

Nanami hummed, acknowledging her observation. "I could eat. It's been a long day."

"A long few months, I reckon." Lottie placed a comforting hand on his back, gently steering him further into the bustling city. "My good friend works at this little ol’ restaurant down on Lafayette Street. It's just a hop, skip this way, and we can get you some good eatin'. Have you had Cajun before?"

Lottie's words tumbled out rapidly, but Nanami managed to keep up. He shook his head, allowing her to guide him through the lively streets.

"Oh, you're in for a treat then. This here is the best food you'll ever have. Just wait until you try a beignet." She playfully wiggled her brows, her enthusiasm infectious.

Though Nanami didn't understand the term "beignet," he took her excitement as a promising sign. "Whatever tastes good, I'll try."

"That's the spirit!" Lottie gave his suit jacket a friendly pat as they weaved through the crowd, exchanging greetings with any familiar faces she spotted.

“Here we are, mister. Hope you brought a loose pair of britches 'cause you’ll need ‘em.”

Nanami looked up at the building, taking off his shades to read the chalk writing fixed onto the side.

Duke’s. Charming.

The ambiance inside was a perfect mirror of the outdoors. People packed in from wall to wall, and the music from just outside the rear of the restaurant wafted inside, adding to the vibrant atmosphere.

“Let’s go sit you down at the bar, get a nice cold one and some grub in that belly. Tiana!”

He sat, slipping off his jacket to drape it across his seat, while his glasses found a home on the bartop. His bag hit the floor with a thud as he dropped it to rest between his feet.

“Hey, Lottie,” a sweet voice floated from the kitchen, followed by the source of it. The woman—slim-figured with rich brown skin—gave Nanami pause. She was beautiful, not unlike many of the women he’d met with her complexion over the years, but she was more, in a way.

Perhaps it was the curls. Nanami had developed a liking for women with thick, coily curls. They framed her face exquisitely.

“Hey, Tia. This is Kento.” Lottie placed a hand on Nanami’s chest as she introduced him. "He's a business friend of Daddy's. Take good care of him for me, will you? I have some business to attend to myself while Daddy’s out at the shooting range."

Lottie winked, and Tiana—Tia, as she called her—responded with a gentle smile.

“Can do,” she assured Lottie before turning her gaze to Nanami. “Give me one second, sugar, and I’ll be right with you.”

Nanami nodded, settling into his seat. A group of soldiers occupied the other end of the bar, rowdy as they sang unfamiliar songs. There was a little curse lazing on the bartop, slumbering against one of the soldier’s arms—surprisingly harmless.

He left it alone.

“Have a nice meal, Mr. Kento. I’ll be ’round to come get you a little later tonight,” Lottie purred with a natural pout, her lips reminiscent of a porcelain doll's. “Don’t have too much fun without me, y’all.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tiana replied with a warm smile, disappearing into the kitchen to retrieve a full round of plates.

She moved through the bustling restaurant with a graceful rhythm, her deft hands skillfully balancing trays filled with tantalizing cuisine—Creole, Nanami assumed from the building sign. He couldn’t quite understand the difference between that and Cajun, but all the food that passed his nose smelled heavenly all the same.

The spice that clung to the food was present in the air, pleasantly familiar, like the hawker centers in Singapore or the night markets in Taiwan. He still harbored dreams of visiting Malaysia, indulging in street food, experiencing Mamak stalls, exploring mosques, and paying his respects to the land.

His boss informed him he was slated to go to Germany next, for what he didn’t yet know. He could dream about Malaysia in the meantime.

He took out his pocket notebook to jot the thought down.

“Order up!”

Nanami followed Tiana's graceful movements with his eyes, catching glimpses of each dish she served, the way she bantered with the other patrons and had every man in the place hanging off of each word. Her presence was striking and commanding—a woman in charge.

That’s what it was—what made her so beautiful. She was a woman. The kind Nanami did like.

The meticulous care she took in plating the food made it as visually inviting as the enticing aroma was to his senses. Her apron bore the telltale signs of ware of a kitchen in perpetual motion, a fragrant cloud carrying the essence of spices and sweetness floating around her.

As she passed by him their eyes met, and a knowing smile graced her lips.

“So, you’re from out of town, huh?” she said, tawny brown eyes looking up at him through wispy lashes. She cleaned a mug, stuck in a constant stream of motion that made it hard for Nanami to look away.

Nanami nodded, and she placed the cup under the beer dispenser, pouring him a tall glass.

“Thank you,” he acknowledged, accepting the beer when she set it in front of him, accompanied by a shaker of flavored salt.

“How far out of town?”

Nanami hummed thoughtfully, trailing his fingers through the condensation dampening the sides of his mug.

“Asia. Here on business.”

“You’re from Asia?” Tiana's eyes sparkled with intrigue as though she were solving a puzzle. “Which part? Can I guess?”

Nanami jerked one shoulder. “Go ahead.”

“Maybe the Philippines?” she ventured, passing around more beers. “Lots of business types love the Philippines. The soldiers never shut up about it.”

Nanami quirked a brow, aware of why soldiers held such fondness for the Philippines. “No,” he replied, hiding a smile behind his cup. “Try again.”

“China?”

“Nope,” Nanami stated before taking another sip. “Been there a lot, mainly Hong Kong. I’m not from there, though.”

“Japan?” she guessed, her eyes squinting, her brow raised.

Nanami thumped his finger against the glass with a soft clink, clink, clink. “Japan.”

Her triumphant smile was indeed beautiful, with pretty teeth providing a striking contrast against the fullness of her lips and the warm tone of her skin.

“Got a wife hidden over there or something?” she teased, a sweet smirk gracing her lips. “How many kids?”

“No kids, no wife,” Nanami responded softly, feeling the tension in his body from the long journey. “My maternal grandfather was half Dutch, half something else. My grandmother was Japanese, and my mom married a European man in Japan. They stayed there my whole life, so… Japanese.”

“Fascinatin’. What business brings you here? If you can tell me. First time?”

“I can,” Nanami said, taking a few more gulps. The beer tasted different than what he’d had before in the States, less malty and a hint sweeter. “It’s my first time in Louisiana, but not America in general. I’m here meeting another businessman—sugar cane.”

“Ah, that explains Charlotte. I thought she’d just taken a liking to you; she’s always good at finding the handsome ones.”

Nanami perked up at that, a hint of a smile gracing his lips, fueled by the warmth of the beer. Tiana, with practiced ease, poured him another glass.

“I’m handsome, then?”

Tiana rolled her eyes. “You know you are, with your dapper suit and those eyes. Women must throw themselves at you.”

Nanami tilted his head, a little maybe present in the motion. He didn’t indulge nearly as often as he could.

“Have you met Big Daddy yet?” Tiana questioned, and Nanami almost spit out his beer.

He knew enough of what American women liked to call men that they fancied. He’d never heard the term out in the wild, though.

“Oh, excuse me. Eli La Bouff,” Tiana clarified with a teasing laugh, her lips even prettier when she smiled. “Lottie’s father. She calls him Big Daddy, usually. You’ll see why when you do meet him.”

Nanami nodded, a soft chuckle passing through his teeth. People in the South were different, then. Lighter, more hospitable.

Tiana leaned in closer to the bar, narrowing the space between them as she addressed Nanami. “You look hungry. What can I get started for you, sugar?”

Nanami met her gaze, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Surprise me," he replied, his voice low and smooth. “I prefer savory, but I’m craving something a little sweet.”

Tiana hummed, tapping her chin. “How about blackened salmon with a sweet bourbon glaze, red beans and rice, and piping hot Andouille sausage and chicken gumbo to get you started? We’ll pair it with zucchini, corn maque choux, slow-cooked collard greens, mac and cheese, with some fresh beignets to top you off for dessert,” she said, leaning over to glance at Nanami's stomach, subtly assessing the fit of his dress shirt against his well-defined physique, “if you have any room, that is. How’s that sound?”

“That sounds divine,” Nanami said, solely because of the silky tone Tiana said every word with, not because he knew what any of the dishes were. “You make everything sound good.”

“I made the recipes, so it will be.” She smiled; Nanami returned it. “Wait here, get comfy. You have a long journey ahead of you.”

Nanami leaned back slightly in his seat, his eyes following as she went to put his order in with the kitchen. It was then that he noticed a little curse on her back, small—the size of a quarter. It was the curse of abundance. Blessed for riches through hardship.

A lucky curse, Geto would have called it.

Nanami left it alone, too, sipping his beer as he waited for his food.

He couldn't help but smirk to himself; Tiana’s words took root in his mind. So did she, it seemed.

Do not perceive me for this 🙈 Come say hi on Twitter!

#crack ship #nanami fic #jjk fic #crackship #crack fic #kk.writes #kk.others #fanfic

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partfile · 3 months ago

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ꗃ 𝖴𝖭𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖪𝖤𝖣 — - SUNGHO CHOI'S DOSSIER.

𝗌𝖾𝖾: boyish smiles, kisses to the forehead of siblings born after you, cheap seven eleven coffee, attentive eyes, half baked sketches in a second hand ipad, hitting snooze two; three times, books underneath a broken bed frame, an engine revved, thrifted cameras, finding the beauty in everything.

part one, 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅.

legal name: sungho choi. nicknames, aliases: call him sungho. meaning of names: sungho is of korean origin, & means completion. choi, as a surname, is of korean origin as well. it means ‘high, lofty, towering.’ age: twenty - six. date of birth: october 19th, 1997. place of birth: new york, usa. korean zodiac: ox. western zodiac: scorpio. nationality: korean. gender: demi male. pronouns: he/they. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic.

part two, 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗅.

marital status: single. children: none. mother: hyoson choi. father: seongjin choi. (d. 1991) siblings: two younger sisters. extended family: a handful of cousins, aunties and uncles. pets: none, though feeds a kitten that’s been outside his apartment lately.

part three, 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅.

weight: one hundred and forty pounds. height: six feet. build: mesomorph. has a built body ; muscles are long & defined. powerful, toned legs & a muscled core. face shape: rectangular - shaped, with prominent a strong jawline. hair color: black. hair length: short — often falls in his face. eye color: dark brown, nearly black. scars: a litany of scars on his knees & elbows from childhood incidents. tattoos: only one ; a date of 2019 in roman numerals along his chest. piercings: two piercings in each lobe. helix in their right ear. dominant hand: ambidextrous. voice: deep, a little raspy but mostly sounds like their faceclaim. fashion sense: a lover of all things black. loves jackets ; whether they be leather, denim or corduroy, accessorizes with rings, beanies, necklaces & is almost always sporting the helmet he wears with his motorcycle. physical disabilities: none. alcohol consumption: drinks socially, keeps a bottle of tequila in his freezer, and has beer in case of a long day. notably begins to drink more near the date he has tattooed. cigarette consumption: now this is a habit. keeps newports by the pack. drug consumption: a little weed & the occasional line of coke or ecstasy on a night out.

part four, lifestyle.

occupation: intern for the creative department at edge. specifically photographers & videographers. education: has a handful of hours at an inconsequential community college. was going for a bachelors in photography but is mostly self taught. literacy: slick - mouthed though kind. banter king. loves books, but doesn’t have time to read as much as he'd like. there’s a dog eared paperback beside his bed though, just in case. languages spoken: korean, english. habits: drums his fingers on surfaces. cracks his neck. bites the inside of his cheek when focused.

part five, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅.

emotional stability: has a good head on his shoulders. prone to being protective ; if he thinks someone is in trouble tends to help. it takes a lot to piss him off, but once he's there? visceral. cutting. sociability: lingers in the funny space between introverted & extroverted. loves a good night out, but also loves a good night in. ambitions: professionally, wants everything. most of the time. personally just wants to make sure his sisters are good. mental disabilities: none.

#✶ edgehq:intro .

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ambivalentatmosphere · 7 months ago

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Name meaning tea part 2

Corduroy - It's the fabric (but the word itself is derived from cord as in rope)

Yuri Dimas - Yuri is a Slavic name written as Юрий, derived from the Greek word γεωργός which can be broken down into γῆ (meaning earth) and ἔργον (meaning work), roughly translating to one who works with the earth or, more simply, farmer. Dimas is a Greek surname derived from the word Δήμας, meaning sunset.

Since Cordie's a huge weeb, his given name sounds identical to an actual Japanese name meaning lily (although that version of Yuri is feminine). Dimas is also a reference to Saint Dimas, also known as the penitent thief, who is typically associated with the tradition of Easter.

By the way, if you're good at Greek you probably already know that the most common modern version of γεωργός is George but that didn't hit the same

#about: corduroy #as you can tell from the name origins cordie is VERY greek-coded #since he's a celestican descendant he joins the club of having really weird ethnicities #to keep it simple though he's a japanese guy with ainu and greek descent #the sunset meaning is also relevant for the other dimases aka mindy and jason (you guys don't know jason though)#but for cordie/yuri in particular it's relevant because of the sun part

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oc-beehive · 1 year ago

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Naming Conventions in the Mall

So, how do you get a new name when you've completely forgotten your old one?

the Mall has a universal naming system that stems largely from necessity. We're talking about given names AND surnames. Strap in.

GIVEN NAMES

By nature of new "Employees" being introduced to the environment via collapsing in the real world, more often than not, they're just... Stumbled upon, like a stray animal. The first person to "find" a new employee after their introduction to the mall is designated as their Namer. Traditionally, the Namer will choose a name that is related in meaning or theme to their own name, creating name "lineages" that can allow one to trace a string of Namers and their Namees. As an example, Cotton was the Namer for both Corduroy and Satin, and as such continued the theme of "fabrics" in their names. Themes can also change between generations - while one person may have been named Mocha with the theme "shades of brown" in mind, they could pass on the theme of "coffee drinks" to their future Namees, their grand-namees could pass on the theme of "chocolates", and so on.

While this practice is remotely similar to the human concept of a family tree, there is no real relationship standard between a Namer and their Namee. Some Namers make a habit of mentoring those they find; some are hardly acquainted after the initial naming. Some end up marrying their Namers, and others are mortal enemies.

Namees are always granted the right to veto a name assignment, and it's really easy to get your name changed if you feel like it later in life.

SURNAMES

... That only covers given names, though. Surnames are given based on storegroup - the specific store in which a new Employee was created in, determining their demihuman type. Just as in the real world, surnames are typically a shorthand for place of origin and help differentiate Employees with the same given name.

While Employees from the same storegroup share a last name, they're similarly free from the standards surrounding the concept of "family" as most human cultures understand it. One's storegroup can be of little importance, or it could be the crux of identity; it depends on both the store culture and the individual. Cotton's Storegroup, the Principalities, are similar to what one might expect from a human sorority/fraternity. The Grimoires are a casual friend group that only occasionally communicate. Some storegroups really do operate as small family units!

(As a final note, there are duplicates of the same store within the endless Mall, hence surnames not being just... The name of the store. Individual instances of the same store branding are distinct storegroup units, and are treated as such. Not every Hot Topic employee will end up with the surname Grimoire, just those from that singular Hot Topic.)

#SHOPAHOLIX #speculative fiction #worldbuilding #characters are mentioned briefly enough that i will not be tagging them but their names do have links

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writingmydaydreamsofafangirl · 2 years ago

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Young, Dumb, and Broke - Wendy Corduroy (Gravity Falls)

“Come on (Name) don’t be a chicken!” Wendy Corduroy called out to her girlfriend for the past year (Name) (Surname). “I don’t think this is a great idea!” (Name) yelled standing at the bottom of the tree watching the red head climb the giant with ease. Sighing (Name) began her ascendant being more cautious, Wendy laughed when she screamed that something was going to eat her as a squirreled jumped to another branch.

The young couple didn’t care what people thought of them; (Name) always believed that love came in all different sizes, shapes, and forms regardless of what societal views. Entering the friend group, Robbie Valentino tried to woo the girl. His attempts were always futile with Wendy intervening to save (Name). During his proclamation to Robbie accidently called (Name) by the others name as she was flipping him off and making other obscene gestures to interrupt him.

Wendy came up with a plan to ‘date’ (Name) to keep Robbie from bothering them with cringy romantic gestures or not understanding they were not interested in him. Neither could pinpoint what moment they began to develop feelings for each other, but soon they became a real couple. The two were never seen without each other, if spotted alone the other would soon appear to fill in the empty space beside them. Soon the days and nights blurred together full of laughter, goofy acts of love, and sometimes tears.

Which leads up to this moment when Wendy got the bright idea for their one-year anniversary. She saw it in one of those girly romantic comedies that (Name) loves to watch. “Wendy, I don’t think this branch is strong enough.” (Name) worried as she sat close to the trunk as her courageous counterpart sat on the edge of the flimsy branch. “What’s the worst that could happen?” She asked teasingly in that split moment brought on by karma the limb broke sending the teen falling to her doom.

The (h/c) hair girl instantly dove after her love throwing all caution to the wind. Before Wendy shut her eyes anticipating hitting the ground. Instead of feeling the harsh dirt of the forest, she felt two small arms wrapped around her torso. Opening her eyes, she saw (Name) with fairy white fairy wings and noticeably pointy ears which turned red with anger that matched the rosy color on her girlfriend’s cheeks. “That was the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.” (Name) shouted worry evident in her voice which made the Wendy smile. “Yeah, but I know you’ll always be there to save me Tinker Bell.”

#gravity falls #wendy corduroy #wendy corduroy imagine #imagine #gravity falls imagine #robbie valentino

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nina-a-pines · 5 years ago

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I’ve learned some things growing up in this town, one of them is that you don’t mess with a Corduroy and you don’t mess with a Pines, and I just happen to be both!

Anne Corduroy-Pines

#My girl #she loves both of her surnames #a proud Corduroy #and a proud Pines #wanna get her mad? Call her by just one of these names #gravity falls #next gen #next generation #Nina writing #dipper pines #Wendy Corduroy #wendip #wendip babies #wendy x dipper #anne corduroy pines

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thechanelmuse · 3 years ago

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André 3000′s short-lived fashion line, Benjamin Bixby, that launched in 2008.

From The New York Times (2008):

At a party at Barneys New York during Fashion Week, André Benjamin, his hands thrust into the pockets of his suspender pants, really did look as if he would rather curl up at home with his Singer than be known as another singer who can sew. He was there to introduce a line of men’s wear called Benjamin Bixby, which includes tweed plus fours and club sweaters with leather elbow patches. The collection was inspired by Ivy League athletics of the 1930s. It looked like Ralph Lauren having a Steampunk moment.

The name Benjamin Bixby derives from an episode of MTV’s “Punk’d” on which Mr. Benjamin was the victim of an elaborate joke: At the fabricated scene of a car accident, a Maybach salesman demanded his name, implying that Mr. Benjamin was responsible for the damages. Unaware of the setup, he blurted out “Bixby,” the last name of the actor who starred in the television series “The Incredible Hulk.”

Later, to create a persona for his fashion line, Mr. Benjamin, 33, combined his surname with that of Bill Bixby. The character is a world traveler whose wardrobe includes things like a $995 cotton corduroy blazer, a $350 felted waistcoat and a $95 newsboy cap. At Barneys, those clothes now hang next to lines like Double RL and Engineered Garments, which have a similar bent of Depression Chic.

The reaction from young men has been strong, said Tom Kalenderian, the men’s wear fashion director at Barneys. “Though you are looking at plus fours and collegiate sweaters that remind you of the past, it is very current with today.”

Mr. Benjamin’s point of view was shaped as a teenager in Atlanta, where, to stand out, he often customized his clothes and dyed his jeans turquoise or orange. He was into fashion back then, he said, noting that his favorite brands were “Alexander Julian Colours, Ralph Lauren, Generra, early Guess, Bugle Boy, Tretorn, Lacoste, Levi’s, Britches, Helly Hansen, Eddie Bauer, L. L. Bean, Bass, early Timberland and early Banana Republic, when they were still doing adventure wear.”

“For an African-American guy to be a prep, that’s a dichotomy,” he said. “Prep style comes from mostly affluent families who just wear these cool clothes. But when you come from a background that has more struggle, your take on it will be different. There’s a certain kind of rebel to it.”

From W Magazine (2017):

“I️ knew the next time I️ got into fashion or design [after OutKast’s clothing line] it’d be something I️ really love,” he told the audience. “The reason I️ took that route was because hip-hop had this image of ‘we don’t wear these types of things’ and I️ knew we wore different clothes. So Benjamin Bixby was my personal way of trying to say, ‘This is how we do it.’ The clothes I was trying to make were all my sketches and designs. I was like, ‘Let me take this. Let me not get an investor.’ So all of it was me. My own money. Unfortunately, I️ lost millions, to be honest. It was an expensive lesson. But I can tell you, it was the best times, the best lessons in my life about my self and creating things.”

One of the lessons Benjamin learned is that it’s much harder to create and fund a line as an individual than with financial backing, a point that Kanye West has made repeatedly over the years — especially throughout his Yeezy tour — which André 3000 can empathize with.

“Because I️ was so against how people looked in hip-hop looked, I went really hard trying to prove that we didn’t,” he said. ‘So in doing that, I kind of shunned — I️ didn’t do parties we didn’t have a website. I just wanted to prove to everyone that this was for real. I was going to Paris to fabric showrooms. I️ remember we were in Hong Kong, and I was there working for a month, and I️ saw a flyer for a performance that was N.E.R.D. and Kanye West. So I went to the show and I saw Kanye and Pharrell backstage. They were like, ‘What you doing here?’ And I️ was like, ‘I’m trying to make this clothing thing happen.’ Now when I️ see Kanye and Pharrell killing it, they’ve both opened doors. It’s a beautiful thing.

#I wish this would've flourished #andre 3000 #outkast #benjamin bixby #fashion #business lessons #the new york times #w magazine

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queenbirbs · 4 years ago

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I was the son you always had | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: discussion of drug use, language, neglect

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Ethan confronts Louise. Post chapter 13.

Notes: Title taken from the Bear’s Den song “Above the Clouds of Pompeii.”

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The years have not been kind to Louise Ramsey.

If that’s still her surname, of course, Ethan isn’t sure. It’s what he gave Marlene for the admission forms; she had the wherewithal, at least, to not even bat an eye at the name. He’s always liked Marlene, even if attempting to curb hospital gossip is like trying to put out a fire with an eyedropper. Having been fourteen hours since she was admitted, it’s no secret that Doctor Ramsey’s mom is the OD in room 532.

It’s the same room he’s standing in front of, trying to gather his wits. The rest of the staff look on from behind their pillars and charts, as if the art of discretion is lost on them all. Ethan stamps down on the reflex to bark and snarl at them. It’ll only stoke the flames if he does.

“You have to turn the knob to open it.”

That tight feeling in his chest eases up a fraction. He turns to see Sloane, propped up against the wall beside him. In a sea of a thousand curious faces, her expression of concern is a welcome sight. Resisting the urge to reach for her, he opts for a look of disappointment at the joke, or attempt thereof. She answers with that gentle smile of hers, the one where the left corner of her mouth crinkles up and her dimple appears. Her gaze drifts from his and over to the window; on the other side is Louise, the pallor of her face covered in a light sheen of sweat. The hands that used to hold his as they crossed the street tremble around the pages of whatever magazine she’s pretending to read.

“I don’t know why I’m bothering. I already know why she’s here.”

“No, you think you know why,” Sloane says, and he hates it, but he knows she’s right. “The only way to know for certain is to talk to her.”

“And what would that conversation sound like? Hi, I’m Doctor Ramsey, the son you left without a backwards glance when he was eleven years-old. How was the turkey sandwich you had for lunch?”

She leans her temple against the wall, her eyes glazing over in that familiar way that tells him she’s deep in thought. After the eleven hours she’s been here, thick strands have come loose from her messy bun to settle against her neck. The urge to sweep them away, to settle his hand there and massage at the tight lines is a fierce one.

“Treat her how you would a patient. Ask her about her pain management, about her next steps once she’s discharged. That will give you a feel for her attitude towards you, and towards herself in general. It’ll give you a foundation to start with.”

Reaching out, Sloane squeezes his arm once, then twice, before letting her hand fall away. He misses the warmth of her immediately.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Yes, thank you, that… helps. Truly.”

Before he can work up the nerve, she beats him to his next question.

“I’ll be in the office when you’re done, if you--”

“Yes.”

That smile winks at him again as she pushes off the wall and heads down the hallway. Ethan watches her for as long as he can, until the throng of staff swallows her up. Turning back to the door, he catches Louise watching him before her eyes dart back to her magazine. She hasn’t turned the page for quite some time, and he doubts the full-page cologne ad is somehow keeping her attention. Before he has to resort to a pep talk, he turns the knob and steps inside.

Louise looks up as he closes the door behind him.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Hello,” he greets through a throat stuffed full of cotton. “I’m Doctor Ramsey. I’m here to perform a check up and see how things are going.”

Her mouth opens and closes, her eyes growing wide beneath her bangs.

“Well, okay, yeah, but -- I mean, I know you. I know who you are. You’re my son.”

The angry retort he prepared never comes, drowned out by the roaring pulse in his ears as he picks up her chart from the foot of the bed and reads through it.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He brushes off her words and continues in a forced monotone. “We’ve got you on lofexidine to help reduce the detox symptoms. Even with the assistance, those symptoms will likely peak in the next day or two, depending on how heavy your usage is.”

“I know.” She toys with the magazine as she speaks. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Ethan lifts his gaze from the chart and looks -- really looks -- at his mother for the first time in twenty-six years. The dark brown hair she used to tease with her can of Aqua Net, making the hallway outside the bathroom smell of chemicals, is now a sallow gray. The warm arms that would hug him tight are gaunt from malnutrition. The bright face that he remembers smiling down at him, or blowing raspberries against his cheek, or peeking around his door to call him down for breakfast is no more. Pockmarks mar her skin, more visible now without the thick coat of makeup. Deep grooves circle underneath her eyes and along the curve of her cheeks, carving at her skin.

“When did the drug use start?” he asks.

“We were at the tail end of the nineties recession, but layoffs were still happening across the company. I was lucky to keep my job, but with a forty percent cut of staff, those duties had to be distributed elsewhere.” She heaves out a sigh, a weary chuckle following after. “Being the finance manager, I was elsewhere. My coworker, Brenda, she’s the one who got me started, going on and on about how it made her feel relaxed and on top of things. I grew up in the seventies, so I’d taken an occasional trip or two with LSD. It didn’t seem so bad just to try it out. At first, it was a line or two to get through the fourteen-hour work day. Then, after a few weeks, two lines became five. And then…” she drifts off, her hand dipping from side to side.

“Not that working those long hours helped in any way. I never got to spend time with you -- that was your father.” It’s impossible to miss the bitterness in her tone, the downward turn of her lips. “He got to play stay-at-home dad until you turned two. He got to hear your first words, watch you take your first steps. He’d tell me all about what I’d missed when I got home: how much fun you had at the park, how well you did in the spelling bee, how high you placed at the science fair. He got to be the parent, and I was just the moneymaker.”

The dull roar in his ears changes to a shrill pitch, drowning out every sensible thought inside his head. The sob story was to be expected, but the jealous jabs at his dad are a step too far. How dare she walk back into his life and insult the man who raised him? She knew nothing about that first year. How Ethan would come home from school and spot the late notices on the kitchen table. How Ethan would creep down the hallway at night and see his dad sitting on her side of the bed, going through photographs and crying. How, three days before Christmas, the electric was shut off and his dad made the living room into their own campsite, complete with a roaring fire to cook beans on and flashlights to tell make-believe stories.

“So you decided to skip out and miss twenty-five more years of my life?” he snaps.

“Oh, Ethan,” she sighs, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“I had to--” she stops and drags in a breath. “I snapped, that day. I’d worked there for thirteen years, right out of high school. I got called into the boss’s office. I thought I was getting a promotion. Instead, I was reprimanded for not performing well enough. That if I didn’t shape up I’d find myself without a job at all.” Her fingers tremble with effort as she pushes her bangs aside, her glare set firmly on the tiled floor. “And then I came home -- early, because I was crying in the bathroom to avoid making a scene -- and your father… he stopped me in the kitchen. He told me that I was working myself too hard, and that I should try to take some time off to be with you two.”

She looks up at him then, sympathy for her misdeeds plainly written across her face. Ethan wonders if he’s still that good at reading his own mother, or if she’s that good of an actress.

“Then you went to the store,” he finishes for her. “And you never came back.”

“I went to the bank,” she corrects, as if, in the grand scheme of things, it matters. “I took out my money and got in the car and drove. I made it all the way to Richmond before a state trooper took note of my tags. After I made it clear that I’d left of my own volition, he let me go, and that was that.”

The flippant way she describes those harrowing days feels like a slap in the face. His next words are spoken through clenched teeth, as he attempts to reign in the anger that burns through him.

“You could’ve… why didn’t you leave us a note? We both thought something terrible had happened. He never said anything in front of me, but I wasn’t stupid. I watched the news. I saw what happened to other moms who disappeared.”

He remembers sitting in Mrs. Lemon’s living room, their next-door neighbor and his babysitter while his dad was out searching. He remembers the ticking of her crochet needles and the smell of the litter box that needed changing and the feel of the corduroy couch under his flannel pajama pants. He remembers Unsolved Mysteries playing on the box television in the corner, the host stepping out from behind a shadowy pillar to ask for his help solving a mystery. He remembers asking for a pen and paper to write to Mr. Stack and see if he could air his mom’s case.

“I… like I said, Ethan, I just-- I snapped. I had to get out of there. Every day it felt like I was drowning, but then, seeing you, coming home to you, gave me enough air to breathe.” A wistful little smile appears, but soon falls away as she continues. “I made it all the way to Tampa and lived there for a few years with an old friend. After that, I moved around some, changed my name, tried to make something of myself.” She gives a hapless little shrug and reaches up to pull at the dry skin on her lip. “But I was hooked. Still am, I guess. And that always kept me from reaching out -- because I did think about it, Ethan. I did.

“I tried rehab a few times, and the other moms -- their children wrote them letters and came for visiting hours. They talked about all the wonderful things they were going to do together once they stopped using.” Louise yanks at her lip again, cursing when her fingers come away flecked with blood. “But when I thought about writing to you, the thought of you seeing me like that stopped me. And the longer I stayed, the more I watched those families stop visiting and the letters stop coming. And it seemed… pointless.”

Odd, he finds, that she refused to reach out over fears that he would abandon her. He wonders if she rehearsed her lines beforehand, or if she’s this good at ad-lib. The misty eyes and pitiful expression only serve to enhance the performance; she wears a mask, and her face grows to fit it. Buried underneath all that disappointment and resentment, though, is the what if. What if she’s telling the truth? She could have easily been another dejected workaholic that fell victim to her vices and sacrificed her relationships in the process. As a physician, Ethan knows how tight of a hold addiction can have on a person.

“It’s different,” Sloane had said in the on-call room, those bright eyes of hers shadowed with experience, “when it’s not an article or a case study, but your own parent -- someone you’re meant to rely on.”

But he can’t -- won’t, even -- play devil’s advocate, not now. Not with the mother who walked right out of his life and never looked back.

Wandering over to the window, Ethan watches his city move below him; people and cars and buses and trucks going and going while he wastes time here.

“For four days, I didn’t believe Dad.” Unwilling to turn back to Louise, he searches for city hall as he speaks, finding an odd comfort in the ugly, familiar structure. “I thought he was lying when he said you left. He told me you were okay, but that you decided you needed some space from him. I think that early on… we-- he thought you would come back. Then four days became a month, then three, then school started, and when I had friends over I had to explain how it was only Dad now and that you’d left. That no, we hadn’t heard from you, but no, we didn’t think you were dead.”

Though, in his weakest hours, during that first year of her being gone, Ethan had thought about it. Would that look of pity be easier to handle if the concept of choice was taken out of the equation? If cancer or a car accident had taken her away, would that be more palatable for his friends to understand, rather than her choosing to abandon him? He could’ve been the kid making lame dead mom jokes, instead of the kid hiding his tears and fumbling his way through an explanation on why he didn’t need to make a Mother’s Day card this year, Miss Riddleberger.

“You can imagine my surprise,” he says, “when Dad told me you were back in town and wanting to reconnect.”

“Because I -- I do want to, Ethan,” she pleads, her voice cracking over his name. “I’ve spent all these years wondering about you. But look at you! You’ve done so well for yourself. Your father, he told me about how well you did in college, that you graduated the top of your class at medical school.”

“That was nice of him.” The reply is sour in his mouth, bitter and painful. “Did he also tell you that when I was thirteen, I fell off my bike and broke my arm and, despite everything, I cried for you? Or when everyone else was getting graduation photos with their parents, Dad had to stop another family to get our picture taken?”

Louise’s breath hitches artfully; he imagines that she’s clutching a hand over her heart, the picture of a distraught mother.

“No, he… didn’t tell me about any of that.”

“No,” he agrees with a humorless chuckle, “no, I don’t imagine he would have. I imagine he also didn’t mention that I saw you leaving your motel.”

She makes a noise of interest at that. “Then,” Ethan continues as he finally turns back to face her, “my friend was in a nearby market and watched you shoplift. Oh, but before that, she overheard your interesting phone conversation.”

Louise studies him for a long moment and he feels eleven years-old again, sitting on that corduroy couch, hoping and hoping and hoping his mom would come home safe. Some small part of him wants to be wrong about her. But Sloane has taught him time and again that gut feelings can’t be brushed aside.

“That call had nothing to do with you,” Louise tells him.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Ethan settles his shoulder against the window.

“I’ve been a physician for almost a decade now, which means I’ve gotten rather good at knowing when patients are lying to me.” He holds up a hand to stall her immediate protest. “I also know that standing here and arguing with you is a waste of my time. There’s someone out there who I care about a great deal, who I treated horribly earlier because of you, yet here I am. So, here is my offer: once your three days are finished here, I’ll help you secure a spot with a rehab facility. One of the country’s best is right outside the city and I know the director there. Once you’re in recovery, you can decide what you want to do with your life.”

“I don’t think I can afford--”

“All expenses during your stay will be paid for by me.”

“Oh.” Her eyes grow wide and her lower lip trembles. “That’s-- thank you, Ethan, that’s--”

“Let me be clear about this, though,” he interrupts, straightening to his full height and pinning her down with his gaze. “This is the only financial help I will give you. This isn’t an act of forgiveness. I still don’t trust you, and right now, I’m not sure I ever will. But you--” he clenches his teeth against the sudden wave of emotion that batters at him, “--you’re still my mother.”

From his coat pocket, he pulls out a thick, crinkled envelope. Crossing the room, he hands it to her; she pops the tape and slides the card out. It’s been twenty-six years, but he can still remember the glittery flowers on the front, the curly font of whatever silly poem he read aloud to his dad in the card aisle when choosing it.

“You held onto this for all these years?” she asks, tears spilling out onto her pale cheeks. As she opens the card, the dried husk of a flower falls out and onto her blankets; a daisy, her favorite. He remembers sneaking onto Mr. Taylor’s lawn to steal it.

“You left before I could give it to you.”

It’s the last thing he has of hers. Something settles deep inside his sternum at the notion that he’s free of it. “Do you agree to the terms I’ve set?” he asks after a moment.

Louise looks up from the card and smiles at him.

“Yes.”

------

“You didn’t have to come with me.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.”

This late in the evening, with most of the patients fed and medicated, the only sounds are the low murmur of televisions and steady beeps of monitors; the white noise of second shift.

“Did you manage to get any sleep?” Ethan asks, unable to stop the quick once-over he gives her.

“I took a nap on the couch. When I woke up, someone had covered me with a blanket. It was sweet.”

Sloane side-eyes him, that little smile making its appearance for the third time today. He wonders when he’ll stop keeping track of something so silly.

“That was very kind of them to do,” he says.

“It was.”

They make it to room 532 and Ethan stops to shift the tray of food in his hands. Sloane lets out a grumble about men and opens the door for him. He’s forced to a halt right inside the doorway when Sloane stops and flashes him a concerned glance over her shoulder.

“Wait, where’s your mom?” she asks.

“What?”

Nudging her forward, Ethan steps into the room. He takes in the freshly-made bed, the chemical smell of a hospital-grade disinfectant, and, most alarming: the lack of his mother or her things. Turning on his heel, he beelines to the nurse’s station and slams the tray down onto the counter. The plate cover pops off, sending potatoes and green beans into the floor. Kendra glares at him from her seat behind the computer.

“What crawled up your--”

“Room 532 -- where’s the patient?” he growls.

With a huff, she moves to the keyboard and pecks at the keys. Ethan watches the realization spread across her face and hates seeing her anger turn to pity. He’d rather have the former.

“Says here patient discharged herself around four.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“I’m sorry about that,” Kendra replies in a cool tone, then doubles down when he scoffs. “Really, I am. But you’re not listed as the primary attending, and shift change happened right about then. It fell through the cracks.”

Something wet slides across his hand. Ethan looks down to see apple juice dripping over the side of the tray and into the floor. Awareness of the mess he’s made shakes him out of the haze of outrage.

“No, I’m the one who--” he clears his throat and tries again, “--I’m sorry, Kendra. There’s no excuse for my outburst. I’ll get this cleaned up.”

“I can page for a janitor,” she offers.

Ethan shakes his head and crouches down, scooping up the cold food with his hand and dumping it back onto the tray. Before he can stand and start to locate the closest cleaning cart, familiar orange sneakers appear beside him. Sloane crouches beside him and hands him a roll of paper towels, spraying down the counter and floor as he tears off a few sheets. They pile the used towels onto the tray, now covered in a mountain of food scraps and trash. If Ethan were a metaphorical man, he would consider it an allegory for the day he’s had.

Kendra waves them off when they move to pick up the tray.

“I’ll have one of the dietary aides pick it up on their way through.”

“Thank you,” Ethan murmurs.

A nudge at his side pulls him from the slippery slope of his thoughts. Sloane tips her head down the corridor, the invitation hidden away in the lift of her brow. He answers with a nod and follows her towards the elevator.

------

Ethan drops down onto the couch, unable to quiet the weary sigh that escapes him. Jenner hops up to join him, knocking her big head against his shoulder as she snuggles close. He wraps his arm around her and rubs the white patch on her chest; Jenner settles her nose against his chin and lets out a chorus of happy grunts.

Circling the couch, Sloane takes her spot beside him and hands him a tumbler.

“How are you feeling?”

It doesn’t escape his notice that she completely skipped over asking him if he wanted to talk in the first place. The response to that would have been an emphatic no. His throat feels full of all the vague answers he could give instead, of all the ways he could brush aside her question. He thinks about sitting on Mrs. Lemon’s corduroy couch that first awful, terrible night; remembers Mrs. Lemon asked if he was okay; remembers how he boxed up all those new, scary feelings and lied.

A great, shuddering breath escapes him.

“What’s wrong with me?” he rasps.

“Oh, Ethan--”

“I’m serious, Sloane,” he interrupts, clenching his fist tight around the glass. “There has to be some explanation, right? Because that’s-- that’s twice now she’s left without even bothering to say goodbye. And she didn’t-- she never even said she was sorry, for any of it.”

He’s unaware of his own tears until he tastes the salt of them on his tongue. His chest aches from the uneven breaths he takes, his lungs burning from the effort. Jenner whines and licks at his jaw, sensing his distress.

“Why didn’t she stay?” he chokes out, unsure of which time he’s referring to.

Sloane slides her hand under his and takes his glass. Placing it on the coffee table, she turns back to him and wraps her arms around him, guiding him back into the cushions. He settles his head on her shoulder, where she runs soothing fingers through his hair.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I could list your accomplishments until I’m blue in the face, but I know all that doesn’t mean shit to you right now, so I won’t. Instead, I’ll remind you that you’re loyal and honest and hardworking and, despite the losses you’ve experienced and despite the ways you try to hide it, you care more about helping people than anyone else I know.” She kisses the crown of his head and hums. “Well, besides me, of course.”

Her intended effect works; despite it all, he feels a laugh slip through his aching throat -- it’s feeble, but it’s there.

“She’s the one missing out on knowing you,” Sloane assures. “We can’t choose who our parents are. You and I happened to get stuck with the short end of the stick when it comes to our mothers.”

Ethan knows the gist of her issues with her own mother; knows she left Sloane and her little brother at their grandparents when she was nine.

“Tell me,” he requests, to which she hesitates. “I want to know. This isn’t some tactic to… I’m not trying to avoid my own troubles, I promise.”

Her fingers resume their movement as she heaves out a sigh.

“Most of the time, it was me and Milo by ourselves, waiting for my mom to come home from work or from the club. She would come in and pass out on the couch. I knew how mad she would get the next morning if she stayed there, though, so I’d wake her up and guide her to her bedroom, make sure she took her contacts out and took some ibuprofen. On the weekend, she would have her friends over and they would fill our little apartment. But it was exciting, being around so many people, watching all of them, talking to them, fetching beer or cigarettes for them when they were too drunk to stand. Sure, sometimes they would get violent, or steal, or fight, and I would hide Milo with me under my bed until the cops left. But she threatened to drive down to Indiana and leave us in a cornfield if we got her in trouble, and I believed her.

“Then Milo started school and cut himself on some playground equipment. He has hemophilia, so the blood wouldn’t clot, and they called her to come pick him up. When she called back to tell the school nurse to ‘staple the fucking wound shut,’ the school called CPS. The morning after that first state visit, my mom packed us a trash bag each and loaded us up in the car. She told us we were going on vacation to see Gramma and Grandpa. When we got to Virginia, she kissed us on the cheek and told us she’d be back in a week. I never saw her again.”

Ethan reaches up for her hand and holds it in his, warming her fingers that have since turned cold. He can feel the small hitch in her breath as she clears her throat to continue.

“Thankfully, Milo doesn’t remember much. But he was the one who sought her out when he got old enough. He tracked her down when he was in college, found her and her new family. She lives in Corpus Christi; she’s the wife of a lieutenant. They have two kids, a boy and a girl, both in high school. After she dumped us off, she started a new life for herself.”

“Did your brother reach out to her?”

The humorless chuckle tells him all he needs to know. He lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“She told him he was mistaken. Milo sent her a photo as proof. She countered with an offer for hush money.” Ethan can’t see from his position, but by her tone, he knows she’s rolling her eyes. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Me too.” Sloane squeezes him tighter to her for a beat. “But I’m telling you my little sob story only because it makes me more appreciative of the people in my life who care about me. At first, that was my grandparents, who never once made me and Milo feel like a burden, who loved us unconditionally. Then, my friends at school, and my friends in college, and my friends now. And you have Naveen, you have me -- you even have your ‘boys,’” she teases. “But you also have your dad, who’s proud of you even when you burn pancakes. Just know that you can feel angry and hurt at her, but her walking away doesn’t diminish the love others have for you.”

Ethan closes his eyes at her reassurances, drinking them in. Unable to work up a response, he lets go of her hand to slide his arm around her waist and pull her impossibly closer. His heartbeat slows at the soft circles she rubs along his back, sinking easily, readily into his embrace.

“I don’t burn pancakes,” he says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“What?”

“My dad, he said that?”

“Oh, my god.” Sloane barks out a laugh; he enjoys the sound of its return. “Out of all that, you would focus on that?”

“Since it was a testament against my cooking ability, yes.”

“I don’t think he meant literally. More like metaphorical.”

“Metaphorical pancakes?”

“No, you’re-- oh my god you’re the worst.”

“I thought I was amazing and caring and thoughtful?”

“You are, but you’re also the worst.”

He moves out of her embrace and up to meet her gaze. Her kiss is a gentle one, a brush of her mouth on his.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I think I know just the thing.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

I barely googled AMA discharges or protocol for those, but I know that since she is his mom, Ethan would not be allowed to be her actual doctor.

“He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it” is a line from George Orwell’s Shooting An Elephant, changed slightly for this fic.

#open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #Kaila writes things #f: I was the son you always had #okay second time's a charm right?

153 notes · View notes

a-land-of-infinite-wonders · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks for the tag @dramaticjupiter this is a super long tag so if you want to do this then say I tagged you! 🧡

🌻 do you prefer writing in blue or black ink?

I prefer black

🌻 would you prefer to live in the country or the city?

I’ve lived in the country my whole life and I couldn’t imagine it any other way, I love the sound of the river and animals outside and I would hate the rush of a city

🌻if you could learn a new skill what would it be?

I would learn sign language

🌻 do you drink your tea or coffee with sugar?

I don’t drink coffee but I drink tea with sugar

🌻what was your favourite book as a child?

The BFG by Roahl Dahl

🌻 do you prefer baths or showers?

Showers

🌻if you could be a mythical creature what would you be?

I would probably be a fairy because I was always told about the fairy’s when I was younger I remember how I couldn’t touch a certain tree in a field because it’s a fairy tree.

🌻paper or electric books?

Paper!

🌻 what is your favourite item of clothing?

A hugely oversized corduroy bomber jacket with faux fur on the inside

🌻do you like your name?

I used to hate it but I’ve grown to love it because nobody in my town has the name and there is a story behind it

🌻 who is a mentor to you?

I’m not sure if I have a mentor.. if I have any problems or I’m struggling I always turn to one friend and she turns to me aswell

🌻 would you like to be famous?

I wouldn’t, I couldn’t deal with the pressure and demands

🌻 are you a restless sleeper?

I find it hard to fall asleep but once I do there is nothing that will wake me up

🌻 do you consider yourself to be a romantic person?

Definitely, I’ve never been in a relationship but I romanticise everything I do

🌻Which element represents you best?

Fire or earth

🌻 who do you want to be closer with?

My friends, online and in real life

🌻 are you missing somebody right now?

I’m not but I feel like I am

🌻 tell us about an early childhood memory

My sister took me on the bus with her to go to the cinema and see toy story 3 in 3D and it was the first time I was in the cinema.

🌻what is the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten?

I haven’t eaten many strange things but I think probably deer that my dad gave me and didn’t tell me what it was until after, when I got home I cried about it because I loved bambi

🌻have you ever met anyone famous?

🌻 do you keep a journal or diary?

no but I keep a book of all the dreams I have written in lots of detail so I can use them for creative writing in school

🌻 do you prefer pen or pencil?

Pencil

🌻 star sign?

Aries

🌻 do you like cereal crunchy or soggy?

I don’t particularly like cereal but I would say crunchy

🌻 what would you want your legacy to be?

I don’t really care for it much but if I am remembered I want it to be for the good things

🌻 do you like reading? What was the last book you read?

I love reading and I recently read ‘hate’ by Alan gibbons and I would definitely recommend!

🌻 how do you show someone you love them?

I think people know when somebody loves them but I like to do small gestures or even just say good morning or good night to them everyday

🌻 do you like ice in your drinks?

🌻 what are you afraid of?

Dogs, spiders and wasps and sickness

🌻 favourite scent?

Cinnamon or lavender

🌻 do you address older people by their first name or surname?

I’ve been taught my whole life to call people miss or sir so saying anything else feels weird unless they tell me to say something else

🌻 If money was not a factor, how would your life be?

I’ve never thought about it but I’m not sure, I would probably just live in a nice little house and have lots of animals, I’m not really a person to care about a brand I’m wearing or what phone I use anyway

🌻 do you prefer swimming pools or the ocean?

I can’t swim but I prefer the ocean because it’s natural and it doesn’t smell like chlorine or feel stuffy

🌻 what would you do if you found 50$ on the ground?

If i can’t find out who owns it first then I keep some of it and donate the rest

🌻 have you ever seen a shooting star?

I have seen a few and they’re beautiful

🌻 What is one thing you want to teach your children?

I want to teach them to show love and not be ashamed of it

🌻 If you had to get a tattoo right now, what and where would it be?

I think a lot about tattoos I’m going to get but right now I would get a dove because it’s on a crest that has meant a lot to me

🌻what can you hear now?

I can hear laughing on a comedy somebody is watching downstairs

🌻 where do you feel the safest?

A field near my house

🌻 What is one thing you want to overcome/conquer?

I want to improve my health

🌻 If you could travel back in time to any era what would it be?

70’s

🌻 What is your most used emoji?

🧡🥺🥰

🌻 Describe yourself using one word

Free? Open minded? Something like that

🌻 what do you regret the most?

Being so stupid I got injured and ended up almost dying over it

🌻 last movie I saw?

The hangover

🌻 last tv show I watched?

Big little lies

🌻 invent a word and it’s meaning

I wish I could think of one but it would definitely mean freedom

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lumosfm-blog · 5 years ago

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❝ and it seemed to her that kisses , voices , tinkling spoons , laughter , the 𝘀𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘀 were somehow 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 her . ❞ --- katherine mansfield , the garden party .

* ╰ in the teal glow of the goblet’s flames , a name simmers . what makes you worthy of eternal glory , sarah - jane prewett ? surely not your sordidly esoteric & verecund nature , for that would undoubtedly stray to failure . perhaps if your prayers to merlin were heard , your dulcet & complaisant temperament would glean you an edge , but i wouldn’t count on it , especially with the rest of hogwarts against you . one would think you’d known better , as an 18 year old fourth year , but apparently that pesky hufflepuff clemency is particularly fiendish today . after all , these factors make up a champion , but even for a staunchly cis female adhering to she & her pronouns , it does nothing to help that only in the mirror of erised do you resemble natalia dyer , especially with that rose - hued flush that decorates freckled features . now , are you slipping that paper in or not ?

𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖓𝖊 . ╱ 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨 .

full name : sarah - jane grace prewett .

nicknames : it’s her full name or nothing .

date of birth : february sixteenth .

place of birth : london , great britain .

gender identity & pronouns : cis female , she/her .

sexual orientation : pansexual .

romantic orientation : panromantic .

house : hufflepuff .

𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖜𝖔 . ╱ 𝙗𝙞𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙮 .

exhales in blease ... i love her so much

originally born to a prewett cousin ( let’s not delve too deep into the exact details there bc they are , in fact , lacking ) whom everyone thought had disappeared for a while there , sarah - jane is the third of her five siblings . her two older siblings also attend hogwarts ( big wc ! ) .

her parents moved to the seaside to raise their growing family , and as a result most of her childhood was spent around the sea . she associates all happy events with being near the water . whilst she was born in london , she’s got no real relation to the city .

being the middle child , she got away with a lot that her two older siblings didn’t --- - she could spend hours by the shore and her parents wouldn’t mind as long as she came home . she first experienced magic at the shoreline --- she made a few pebbles start dancing with the flick of her wrist . she wasn’t scared , so much as far too excited --- she ran home minutes later to tell her parents that she’d finally done it , that she’d finally done magic --- and it’s developed ever since .

she grew up with magic all around her , let’s not avoid that --- but she was terrified that it wouldn’t show up in her so the development of her own skills came as an absolute delight .

throughout her earlier childhood , she was obviously a switched - on kid with a good head on her shoulders / she was devouring the family library at a terrifying pace , reading everything she could get her hands on . as a result , she’s got a deep - seated love for reading that’s currently helping her through the monumental amounts of homework she finds herself saddled with .

she’s covered in freckles . literally fucking covered . surnames can change , but the amount of freckles that litter a face / back / varyiny sets of limbs will not .

just about cried when her letter arrived . she’d been mentally packing her bags for months on end , and the chance to physically pack her bags and leave to start studying magic properly was too much for her . she misses home dreadfully but hogwarts is different , sends a shiver up her spine every time she stops to think about how truly lucky she is to be here .

triwizard tournament , did you mean: wow i’ll love watching this but like absolute hell am i actually going to put my name in the goblet

𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊 . ╱ 𝙛𝙪𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 .

she knits by hand , and really enjoys it . she picked it up on holiday one year , and it’s just stuck . she tends to consider it as a sign of friendship --- if she likes you enough , she’ll knit you a scarf in your favourite colours , or a beanie and matching mittens . her first attempts were rough , but she’s gotten quite good and she’s proud of her lil knitting endeavours .

fashion choices outside of robes include : oversized cowl - neck sweaters with sleeves that hang well past her fingertips ; cropped crew - neck sweaters ; jeans cuffed at the ankle ; corduroy everything ; scuffed vans and brown leather brogues ; fisherman but softer .

sings like a nightingale / it’s a rare but lovely occasion . sometimes she’ll hum under her breath whilst she’s doing homework , but it’s an effort to get her to sing . when she does though , it’s not entirely dissimilar to siren song .

can’t cook for shit . let’s not kid ourselves here . she can’t cook at all .

every so often , she goes out and feeds the giant squid some leftovers she nicks off the table . she spends a lot of time out near the lake actually , it’s reminiscent of childhood to her and there’s something special about spending a warm afternoon reading by the lake .

her favourite subject is herbology , by a long shot .

her patronus is a sea lion , but that’s not something she’s figured out yet . she’ll be mightily confused when she casts it for the first time .

big florence + the machine fan . big hozier fan . you get the vibe from those two alone .

her pet of choice is an adopted kitten that she’s been raising since the summer . his name is heathcliff ( she was rereading wuthering heights over the summer , give her a break --- she’s got a soft spot for classic muggle literature ) and he’s a little tabby thing that’s growing at an alarming pace .

𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗 . ╱ 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 .

╰ ◦ ♡ ―― study group . --- --- --- - pls give her a lil study group ! they meet up in the library every few days and help each other study . there’s a solid mix of houses in there , and she bakes muffins for them . honestly , it’s just a rly wholesome lil group that support each other and it’s cute and i love it a lot !

╰ ◦ ♡ ―― i don’t love you like i did yesterday . --- --- --- - listen i’m a shameless sucker for young love so like .......... “ exes ” that dated in their second or third year and realistically , they were 16 - 17 so it wasn’t the world’s most meaningful relationship but she held a special place for them in her heart regardless . she just doesn’t love them in a romantic way anymore , and considers it to be a strong platonic relationship instead . god knows what the other thinks .

those r just two super specific connections that i thought of but realistically u can throw anything at me and i’ll have a wee bit of a cry over it

#infernointros #╰ ◦ ❀ ―― 𝑖. 𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖉𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖍 𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖊 . ⊱ intro .#excuse this mess i wrote it wincing in pain n listening to 2000s emo so like .#its v representative of the scatterbrained bullshit im on

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epickendall · 5 years ago

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Ghostboy and LumberJill chapter 2

Mabel starts to wake up after she fainted on the ground Mabel wakes up in the backroom of the Mystery Shack, and she sees Wendy coming into the room.

"Wendy I just had the craziest dream that you were dating Danny Fenton and he was carrying you in his arms," said Mabel rubbing the back of her head

"Yeah Mabel about that," said Wendy

Danny comes into the room look around to see no one from the outside of the windows were watching, and he takes off his blonde wig.

"It wasn't a dream you are dating Danny Fenton," Mabel squeal in happiness and Wendy quickly put her hand on Mabel's mouth to stop the squealing

"Mabel I know you're going to have tons of questions, but first you need to calm down okay," said Wendy and Mable nodded her head yes Wendy removes her hand from Mabel's mouth

"I can't believe one of my friends is dating a superhero, god how did the two you meet in the front place?" said Mabel

"It a lot to explain Mabel," said Danny

"Don't worry I can make time just tell me already I'm dying to know,"

Danny and Wendy explain to Mabel about Danny coming to Gravity Falls in witness protection from a crazy cult. Then to Wendy discovering Danny's true identity leading to them hanging out more in Gravity Falls. Next was Wendy helping Danny with the cult that unleashes a wave of ghosts in Amity Park and they defeating the cult leader and her people afterward; the two started to go out with each other.

"That's wrapped everything up," said Wendy

"That sound so cool Wendy actual fought ghosts," said Mabel

"Yep,"

"Wow, I can't wait to tell Dipper about this,"

"I'm sorry Mable but you can't," said Danny

"Aww, why not?"

"I don't want to let many people know that I'm dating Wendy it'll lead the media going crazy for this and won't leave Wendy alone,"

"Plus I don't want to receive any death threats from Danny crazy fangirls who wanted to marry him on the spot," said Wendy

"So can you keep this secret from your brother,"

"Fine I won't tell anyone not even Dipper, but I can take a selfie with you in your ghost form,"

"Mabel," said Wendy

"I won't upload to the internet I promise,"

Danny shrugs "fine," Danny and Mabel take a picture in Danny ghost form

"Yes," Mabel saved the photo on cool pictures album "I gotta go meet with Candy at the town park," Mabel left the storage room

"That was easier than I thought," said Danny

"Yeah let's just hope nothing else happens today," said Wendy

In the Northwest estate backyard, Pacifica took Dipper to the backyard to check out a large and small dog paws print that was all over the backyard with wreck fences pill up at the end of the yard.

"What causes these dog print Pacifica?" said Dipper examining them

"I don't know what causes them Dipper that why I brought you here," said Pacifica

"When did this happen?"

"The two nights ago there some barking that night and when one of our butlers came here to find the dog he found the yard to be like this,"

"Hm sounds like a monster dog came here and done this,"

"Why?"

"I'm going to find that out with a bit of research, and from my journal, we'll find the dog,"

"Your journal?"

"Oh yeah, I started to make a journal like Ford to written down any mysterious creature that I come across,"

"How many did you write down so far?"

"About couple like a werewolf in Texas and evil spirit of a clown in Kansas anyway I come back what I gather Pacifica see you later," Dipper left the Pacifica house and Pacifica thought to herself

"he's so handsome when he gets serious," Pacifica shake her head I mean he is a nice guy for helping me *sighs* thank god Mabel isn't here,"

Mabel was walking to the Gravity Falls park as she thinks about Danny and Wendy dating.

"I wonder if those two we'll get married one day and then Wendy surname going changed from Wendy Corduroy to Wendy Fenton and their kids would have ghost powers as Danny. I'm already shipping them in my head," Then she spots Dipper coming from the direction to Pacifica house "Oh I got to tease him about that," Mabel goes to Dipper "hey Dipper,"

Then a rope comes over a bush and ties up Mabel and drags her in the woods Dipper sees this and chase after Mabel he pulls out his phone and calls Wendy.

Wendy answer her phone "Hello Dipper,"

"Wendy Mabel is getting kidnapped,"

"Kidnapped by who?"

"I don't know but someone taking her into the wood you gotta help me,"

"Don't worry Dipper I'll help you find Mabel,"

"Thanks," then Dipper sees Mabel goes through brushes "gotta go," Dipper hangs ups and went after her sister

Wendy looked at Danny "what wrong Wendy," said Danny

"Mabel is getting kidnapped,"

"By whom,"

"Don't know but do you want to help find Mabel with Dipper and me?"

"Of course Wendy,"

"Thanks," Wendy kiss him on the checks "let's go up in the air to find the two,"

"Got it," Danny switches to his ghost form he grabs Wendy they turn invisible and go up in the air.

Dipper finally caught up with Mabel to find the kidnappers to be gnomes, and they were standing at a makeshift wedding.

"You guys again would you guy stopped kidnapping my sister," said Dipper

"Listen here we try to find another queen, but he had no luck, so we're going to make your sister our queen again," said Jeff

"I don't want to be your queen you little jerks," said Mabel

"And besides you don't have a shovel or leaf blowers this time kid how are you going to stop us,"

"With this," Mabel kicked Jeff into the other gnomes knocking them down to the ground, and Mabel gets back on her feet go to Dipper "untie me and let's get the heck away from them,"

Dipper unties Mabel from her ropes then the gnomes turn into a giant gnome.

"Oh shit," Dipper thought, "Mabel run!"

Dipper and Mabel run from the giant gnome in the woods up above Wendy and Danny sees the giant gnome.

"Is that giant gnome?" said Danny

I think so I'm guessing they tried to make Mabel their queen again," said Wendy

"Again?"

"Long story,"

"Anyway defeating these gnomes?"

"A leaf blower or high pitch scream,"

"I got something that high pitch but first lets Mabel and Dipper," Danny and Wendy flies down to the forest

Dipper and Mabel kept running as Jeff shouts from the giant gnome shouted at them, "Mabel, you'll be our queen!"

"Never!" Mabel shouted back

Then suddenly the two get picked up by Danny, and Wendy Dipper gets grab by Danny's left arm as Wendy grabs Mabel with her free arms. Danny flew them far away from the giant gnome and landed back down on the ground.

"Danny Phantom what are you doing here?" said Dipper

"Oh was happen to be in the neighborhood I saw your friend Wendy looked trouble I ask her what's wrong and she told your guys situation, so I came to help you guys,"

"Really thanks Danny," said Mabel winking at him

Wendy looked to see the giant gnome coming "that thing is getting closer,"

"You guys stand back I got this," said Danny

The giant gnome got closer to the group Danny was ready to use his ghost howl on the gnome suddenly his old friend Cujo in his large form comes out nowhere smashing the giant gnomes apart into many gnomes and come in front of Danny.

"a giant ghost dog," said Dipper

"Don't worry kid I know this dog," Danny comes up to Cujo "I see you have gotten out of the ghost zone again huh buddy and came here,"

Cujo barked happily at Danny and then turning into a pup then jumping into his arms

"Aw it's ghost puppy," said Mabel she goes up to Cujo and pets him on the head

"I don't think those guys would bother you guys anymore safe you guys," Danny flew up with Cujo in the air flying off

"I still wonder why he's at Gravity falls?" said Dipper

"Don't know dude maybe he just visiting someone," said Wendy smiling at her boyfriend flying off to put on his disguise and met her again.

#Danny Phantom #gravity falls

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