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[yamithediaperdork]

Eternal Baby of the family (Twilight)

Being treated like a baby by your parents would be hard enough to tolerate for one or two years when you were 17, but for one poor vampire who had been turned at the age of 17 103 ago it had been his daily life for 20 of those years.

Of course after 20 long years of being diapered and dressed like a toddler you'd of thought that Edward Cullen would of adapted to what was his life and learned to stop fighting but Edward wasn't the type to give up the struggle regardless of how many spankings and mouth washing and all that it earned him.

He thought that as long as he proved he didn't want the baby treatment, hated the baby treatment and tried to be a big boy his daddy Carlilse would see the truth and finally let him at least act like a 17 year old.

It never ONE dawned on him that all Carlilse wanted was him to be a good little boy for one whole year and the diapers and baby treatment would go away, like it had for Edwards other siblings in the vampire house hold.

Thus the day started liked any other, with Edward waking up in his crib in his animal print nursery and in a light red sleeper that puffed out at the hips from the many layers of diapers Carlilse and Esme insisted that he wear at all times.

Though despite the thickness of the diapers that forced him to waddle he was greeted to anther morning routine, having to inhale the stench from the massive load he made in them because of all the high fiber meals he was given.

with his vampire body he couldn't put on too much weight so his 'loving' parent made sure he ate lots and lots so he'd be able to make TON'S of presents all throughout the day and night. Combine that with all the fluids he had to drink and was it any wonder he was going though entire packs of diapers a day?!

kicking his Paw patrol blanket off Edward managed to sit up despite the bulk and filth around his hips and groaned, there was a LARGE wet spot on his crib, though they had rubber sheets on the mattress. his groan wasn't born out of shame of his diapers leaky or hating his sleep would have to be cleaned, but rather whenever his pampers leaked it was 'proof' to mommy and daddy dearest that he needed MORE layering and he was already up to 6 diapers at a time!

"great..gonna be bumped up to lucky number 7.." the big baby pouted.

Some of you might be wondering why, If Edward was a vampire that he stayed here and let them treat him like this and well, the fact of the matter was Carlilse and Esme were just too much for him to try and take on and even if he escaped what then?

He had no money, nothing to his name and would of ended up coming back on his own anyways. Till he could get out of diapers and start a part time job he was trapped.

Carlilse hummed softly as he made his way towards the nursery, Esme had taken the other kids out job hunting, feeling they were mature enough now to hold down a job but for the oldest of their vampire kids (and the stinkiest) it would be nothing but anther day of diapers.

After babying Edward for so long Carlilse had come to love it, and while Esme was always hopeful that Edward would figure out good behavior for a year would mean freedom, Carlilse liked to go out of his way to keep his little man grumpy and trapped in baby land.

He could smell Edward's morning glory so to speak before he even opened up the door and smirked, getting ready to ham it up.

"Phew yew! I could smell you from the front lawn! SOMEBODY made daddy a super stinky and super big present huh?" Carlilse asked, holding his nose and waving a hand as Edward glared at him and pouted. "oh I see a certain somebody who's diapies sprung a leak! You know what that means little man."

in truth Edwards diapers SHOULD of held up despite his heavy wetting, but a certain daddy dom MAY of poked holes in all of the diapers with a thumb tact to ensure flooding and leaks would happen.

"I know daddy." Edward sulked and looked away, a blush coming to his face.

"Aww, it's ok buddy, I know you can't help it." Carlilse coo'ed, walking over and tickling Edward under the chin. :Who's ready to a morning bath and then some num num's?" Carlilse asked.

"C-Can I wear more then just my diapers at breakfast? Emmett and the others are soo mean!" Edward whined.

"heh, don't worry about them, they already ate and are looking for summer jobs like big boys and girls." Carlilse said and smirked as a super huffy look crossed over Edwards face. "Awww don't be jealous! you have a job too. Making lots of stinky presents! and instead of a silly pay check you get MORE diapers!" Carlilse coo'ed.

Somehow, this didn't improve Edwards mood.

after getting out of his destroyed diapers and a quick bath, Edward was feeling better even if he was being taped into 7 of his puffy diapers now.

Since he could of been forced to try and eat his breakfast of bloody oatmeal (He was still a vampire after all) in his messy diapers he decided not to push his luck too much.

In his customed highchair and wearing a cookie monster bib he was at least allowed to feed himself though he was expected to get at least SOME of it on his face. It was a unspoken rule,but one he'd figured out when every time he kept his face clean while feeding himself he'd have five days of being fed.

sitting on the tray was a ba-ba of milk that he was expected to finish as well, if there was any milk left when he finished his bowl he'd get get anther bowl of the mostly bland save for the blood sludge.

in the end Edward ended up with two bowls of the high fiber oatmeal in his guts, and his bladder was already crying out in distress as Carlilse wiped the oatmeal from his face while scolding him on being such a messy eater.

with the baby fed, Carlilse led Edward back to his nursery, holding his hand and trying not to snicker at the waddling the massive diapers where making Edward do.

"So I know you likely just wanted to hang around the house today, or maybe go and play in your sandbox but sadly we have to go out first. daddies little muck butt has been making SO many presents we have to go and stock up on diapies!" Carlilse coo'ed and wasn't shocked when Edward froze.

The last time Edward had been out in public had been when he was in triple diapers and even then he'd been teased so much he'd ended up having a fit, there was no way in hell he could hide -7- diapers!

"I know, going out in public is scary to you little, you wanna just stay home where you feel safe but well your wearing the last of the diapers." Carlilse lied, then went on. "So unless you wanna sit in your own poopie and pee pee and risk leaking till mommy and your brothers and sisters get home.."

"I..I could stay here by myself!" Edward whimpered and whined, blushing and just thinking about how horrible going to the mall like THIS was gonna be.

"Stay here by yourself.. what kinda of irresponsible parent do you think I am little man?! Leaving a baby home alone, not gonna happen!" Carlilse tsk'ed and shook his head. "Don't worry buddy, if any bullies make you cry daddy will protect you!"

Somehow this statement DIDN'T reassure Edward and he started to bawl.

the hardest part of getting Edward dressed for his day out (Aside from his fussing and whining of course) was trying to find something to go over the boys massive diaper butt.

A lesser daddy would of given up and just had the diapers on display but Carlilse was no normal daddy, he was a super one!

Originally he was going to take his darling baby boy out in a onesie but the crotch snap's kept popping open. none of his overalls would go quite all the way up and pants were just hopeless.

in the end a old pair of light yellow short with the waist band wore out managed to get mostly over the diaper, the top of the padding was sticking out and Carlilse just used one of Edward's longer shirts to mostly cover up the showing diapers.

of course if Edward reached up for something the diapers were going to show and the shorts could hide his giga diaper ass anyways but at least Carlilse was trying and he almost melted when a blushing and huffy Edward gave him a small hug and thanked him for the effort.

"Awww, your VERY welcome buddy. though i think we better get you some new clothes too. looks like we've got a full day ahead of us!" Carlilse coo'ed then paused. "Speaking of full.."

and he leaned down and sniffed Edward butt, a act that despite how embarrassing it was made Edward giggle like the big baby he was dressed up as.

"Nope! still nice and clean! don't worry buddy, we'll get your diapies first."

Carlilse was quickly realizing he was a victim of his own success as he hadn't counted on just how much one more of the bulky diapers he put Edward in could change things.

Case and point, Edward was having a hard time getting into his car seat, and he was actually trying, not like when he'd have a fit about just going on a drive thought the country side.

"Ummm Daddy, maybe I should lose a few diapers." Edward said, rubbing the back of his head but grinning like a fool.

'oh you think you've won this round huh little man?' Carlilse thought.

never one to give in, Carlilse push and squished Edward till his pamper butt was seated, and then with even more effort got him buckled in.

"Look like we're getting a new car seat for you today too.Somebodies getting all his birthday presents early!" the teasing daddy chuckled.

"W-what!? But I don't want my birthday presents used up on this stuff!" Edward whined and huff.

"Well you should of thought about that before becoming such a helpless giga butt diaper baby." Carlilse said and tapped a finger on Edward nose.

Before the big baby could form a retort Carlilse was gone, the door shut and then behind the wheel.

"No fits little man. if your a good little boy and behave I'll let you walk around with daddy, any fits and you go in the shopping cart." He called back.

Edward huffed, opened his mouth to argue, and then just sighed and nodded.

"Yes daddy."

Adorably Edward conked out in his car seat on the way to the mall, the car ride affecting him like it would most babies and he had to be gently woken up when they reached the mall's parking lot.

wiping the drool from the big babies chin he gently shook him awake.

"Edddddy...eddddddy~ time to get up~" Carlilse coo'ed softly.

"Nggggh.. five more minutes.." Edward whined, more asleep then awake.

"Sorry buddy but we're here. come on, open those big beautiful eyes for dada." Carlilse coo'ed.

Edward yawned and slowly opened his eyes, confusion going across his face for a second as he looked around the car and the parking lot, before his memory kicked in.

"Oh man..I totally zonked out there.." He said blushing.

"Heh, it's perfectly natural." Carlilse said, working on getting the seat belt undo and then Helping Edward out of the car. "Now Hold daddies hand till we're inside, I don't want you running off and getting hurt by a car."

of course any car that ran into Edward, diapered or not, would be the one to be wreaked, but it just helped with the cute image of Edward being a helpless big baby.

Getting into the mall Edward had the naive hope that he'd be able to let go of Carlilse's hand and not look like a total 'daddies little man' but atlas, it wasn't meant to be.

"The mall's a big place Eddy, Hold daddies hand so you don't wander off and get lost. it's that or we go back to using the baby leash." Carlilse said.

Edward, who hated having to hold hands shuddered as he recalled the dreaded harness and leash. it was bad enough he was being treated like a helpless baby, without making him feel like a dog on a leash!

"I'll be good." Edward grumbled as they pasted a group of middle schoolers who burst out laughing and pointing at Edward as they waddled by, one of them making a video.

"Bwhahaha look at the big baby!"

"his diapers are MASSIVE!"

"what a dork!"

"oh look Eddy, you made new friends!" Carlilse said, smirking and tugged Edward over towards the kids. "Say hi to everyone Eddy." Carlilse encouraged, and Edward knew what was expected of him and in a effort to get out of it hammed up some baby behavior.

Turn back and hiding his face in Carlilse's shirt he whimpered out a soft "nooo..scared.." and whimpered every so cutely.

Carlilse knew what he was doing and decided to roll with it, but what Edward didn't know was while he was hiding his face in daddies chest, the back of his shirt was lifted to show off the top of his diapers.

"Shhh shh, It's ok little man. Sorry, he's just super shy. maybe next time." Carlilse said to the cackling teens.

Pulling back from Carlilse Edward went to lisp out a thank you but then his tummy gurgled and a massive poot came out, and while the thickness of the diapers muted it somewhat, there was a good chance the whole mall would of heard it if he hadn't of been padded.

"Gee, such a nice way to thank daddy stinker." Carlilse teased and ruffled Edward's hair as the teens were laughing harder, at least till the smell hit them.

As they walked away Edward could hear them gagging and coughing, one of them claiming his eyes were burning and couldn't help but giggle evilly.

"You enjoyed that a little too much." Carlilse chuckled, though considering how semi evil he could be, he was having a 'i'm so proud of you' moment with Edward.

their destination was twice upon a childhood, a niche shop that catered to little and the like and was third biggest of all the shops in the mall.

Edward had only been there once and still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that some people wanted to be treated like he was when it was a ongoing living hell for him.

He'd actually been told by anther little when he was there how lucky he was and how jealous he was of Edward, who had dryly remarked he'd of swapped with him any day of the week.

As the shop drew close Edward was getting tummy craps and whined a little holding his tummy.

"Um..Daddy. I have go potty." Edward said, trying to use his little guy voice in a effort to butter Carlilse up.

"And?" Carlilse asked, grinning with amusement, and seeing right though the little guys efforts.

"Well, it's gonna be a uh-oh." Edward explained.

"I repeat, And?" Carlilse said, speeding their walk up knowing it would only make Edward lose control even faster.

"C-Come on daddy! I can't..you know.." and Edward blew a raspberry. "In public! L-Let's go back to the car!"

"How would that help? we need to get you more diapers before you can get a bum change."

"I..I could stay in the car and wa-"

"Leave a baby in a car alone?! Never! now stop fusing mister man or your going in a cart seat when we get in there!" Carlilse said in a tone that made it clear that was final.

Edward however wasn't listening and stomped a foot, yank his hand away.

"NO! I wanna go back to the car! Now! NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!" He huffed and jumped up and down making a scene and worse, steering up breakfast and ruining any chance he had of making it back to the car.

"Little man, that is enough!" Carlilse said and started towards Edward who suddenly paled and hunched over, a massive series of wet farts escaping and despite himself he hunched down, one hand on the floor and anther one holding his tummy as he shamefully loaded his diapers.

"-sigh- And you wonder why your still in diapers." Carlilse said, then turned to the crowd. "I'm sorry for little Edward making a scene." he started and then as a horrid stench started to fill the area he added. "And I know he's sorry about the smell. "

Edward who felt like he was pushing out his skeleton as he unloaded grunted and groaned, the occasional cry of "POOPIE" was the only thing anyone could understand as seconds turned into minutes.

the Short's turned they're best but they had already been at their limit before the massive mass of baby fudge pushed out the back and to the surprise of no one but Edward they ripped apart and basically hung around his waist like a loin cloth of sorts.

with his pampers filled to the brim, both front and back, any and all fight was out of Edward who whimpered and slowly stood up, legs forced apart even more and held out his arm's.

"D-Daddy!" he whined and Carlilse came over and picked him up, the big babies legs wrapping around him and arms holding tight as Carlilse got a arm under the boys smelly rear and patted his back.

"Shhh, shh..It's alright. your just a baby Eddy. it's all right. Come on, let's go get you some clean diapers and new outfit. if you're a good boy we'll get you some stuffies too. hows that sound?"

Edward nodded dumbly, and it would be till later in the day when he'd realized with that last display, the last of Edward's big boy mind had ended up in the seat of the diaper that had been tossed out, and that Edward would never be able to be anything more then a helpless big baby.

The end

[crystal-c-a-t-s]

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[momtemplative]

Once Upon a Time.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a Grammy and a Grampy who lived in a wonderful house in Boulder, Colorado. Two young girls, who happen to also be my kids, would come to visit them every Wednesday afternoon. Grammy would meet them at the front door with big hugs and their favorite lemonade in the fridge and their favorite snacks and fruit in bowls on the table. Their mom, who happens to be me, would then go to work massaging old people and then have the rest of the night to herself, time she would fill with heavenly kid-free activities—she would often see a movie in the theater or meet a friend for a drink, or maybe have an acupuncture appointment or hit the library for some writing. Such luxuries! Their dad would bring the girls home and put them to bed, and it would all seem so balanced and beneficial for everyone.

Then, abruptly, most of the parts of that simple paragraph were no more, as are most of the parts of many of the paragraphs for most people. No Grammy and Grampy’s house. No old people to massage. No movie in the theater or friends to chat with in-person or acupuncture or library. Two months later, we ask ourselves, is this the new normal?

Last week, I visited my in-laws for the first time since early March. Opal (she already visited them the previous week with Jesse) and I drove to their house in North Boulder, parked on the street out front, and sat on the sidewalk next to my car, using it for shade. It was toasty in the sun. The maple tree in their front yard still had no leaves to soften the emboldened springtime rays. Grammy brought a chair out into the yard that looked like it belonged in the lobby of a haunted hotel, wooden and upholstered—a benign artifact when out in the light of day. She plopped down. She mentioned the warmth a number of times, while wearing a thick yellow sweater, dark pants and heavy, black shoes.

Opal pulled her booster seat from the car and used it as a pseudo-stool while I sat on the sidewalk with my legs in a V (while Opal concerned herself with the red ants circling my bare knees). We joked that if this went on for much longer, we’d have to equip ourselves with more advanced accouterments for front yard hang-time. I just read about how people are now starting to use masks as a form of boutique expression—sewing sequins and affixing the fabric with dried flowers, like facial art. COVID lawn furniture could be the same: custom-made social distancing party goods—fancy awnings with RV lights, swanky travel chairs and shag-carpet lawn rugs. Kanye could develop his own line. There could be catalogues to order from.

For now, though, the front yard presented more classic, minimalistic furnishings. Grammy brought us a plate of fresh cookies and placed them at the halfway point between us on the lawn. Then she returned to her chair to sit down. I got up and put the goods in my front seat. Then, a moment later, Grammy remembered a few more things. She disappeared into the house, returned, and placed a bag of spicy chips from Trader Joes and a loaf of fresh local sourdough bread at the halfway point, and sat down again.

Nothing like this can happen with Ruth in the equation. She’s four. She would block, slow and question every minuscule action with a sort of stop-motion interrogation. Why are you doing it like that? Why does it look like this? Why is everyone acting so weird?

Ruth hasn’t seen her grandparents since early March. She doesn’t understand social distancing and masks are for Halloween. As for hand washing, well, she still picks her nose constantly. So we’ve kept her visits to video chats only.

While at Grammy and Grampy’s, our time went on like this, with Grammy dropping off merchandise for us in the yard before our very eyes, at least five times, like a part of some wonderful off-tempo choreography. We laughed and chatted as it went. When Grampy came too close with the oranges for Opal, she said— “Freeze! Leave them there on the grass please and my mom will pick them up.”

To that, all the grown-ups shared a sweet, impressed look. My expression said: Wow, the ten-year-old has more confidence and command around protocols then the cotton-picking president.

All the while, bees circled the hundreds of dandelions; they’d land, relocate, land, and relocate. The peony bush just began to launch forth. I know what glamorous blossoms it will grow up to have—soft pink ruffles like a doll dress growing upwards. But for now, it had a dozen stalks with finger leaves reaching, unabashedly, for nourishment.

Tiny purple flowers peppered the lawn, less like the star of the show and more like shading for a backdrop. Opal picked one and handed it to me, and it struck me as a tiny cluster of purple balloons.

I considered for a moment what kind of fairytale world would support a tiny purple balloon cluster. Then, Grammy sat down another pile of goods for us on the lawn. This batch was arts and crafts to take home for the girls to play with, together, and without her.

Everyone is doing the Grandparent Experience differently. It’s a supremely individual thing. Some friends have grandparents living in the same house with them and their children. Some friends continued to visit with grandparents, even as the other compartments of their social lives shut down. Some, like us, agreed with the grandparents on the importance of keeping our distance. (My parents live in Ohio, 2,000 miles down the road, so distance is built in to the equation. Insert sigh here.*)

Our little family-of-four has, for the last eight weeks, spent the lion share of our time in the house. We are (presumably) not little fleshy vectors of contagion. Hell, we are more pristine and untouched by the outside world as we have ever been or likely ever will be. Even if Ruth cannot keep her distance (or her fingers out of her nose), now seems to be a pocket of time when the stars are aligned for us to be the safest to come in contact with.

Add on the fact that Trump is determined to ‘liberate’ the world—May 1 was his target date—and that many local businesses are lighting their OPEN signs (though I don’t plan to get a haircut anytime soon), it does seems like the next conversation to be had is, when’s the grandparent party and who’s bringing the sangria?

I checked in with the oracle of the internet to see if I was on the same page as the rest of the country. But, as per usual for the duration of this craziness, I found myself searching for answers from a vacuum of uninformative noise. I keep hearing, “Let the states decide,” but there is nothing from Polis except that he is joining the republican governors to reopen many non-essential businesses, and that he has a plan. There was much written about taking precautions with grandparents at the beginning of the story, back in March. Lifetimes ago. 

The only thing I could find that has been posted since March (and it’s May!) was an excerpt from a larger article from April 21, from a website called CNET. (—?) Two small paragraphs about visiting the elderly—“While the decision to hang out with your grandparents is a personal one to be made by your family, just remember that these are the people who are most at risk at developing a serious and potentially fatal illness if infected with the novel coronavirus.” Buzzkill.

A few things to consider:

1.  We could all be silent carriers. From the Associated Press: “A flood of new research suggests that far more people have had the coronavirus without any symptoms, which means it’s impossible to know who around you may be contagious. That complicates decisions about returning to work, school and normal life.”

2. With the impending re-opening of businesses and retailers, comes more exposure for all of us. Flash forward to fall, when schools start again and the kids are on top of one another, we’ll be much more likely to be silent (or loud) carriers than we are now. What this all says to me is, we better get on with it! Knowing full well that we will likely need to dial back the interactions and reinforce more social distancing come fall and the presumed second wave.

3.  It’s been proven that the virus is much more likely to be contracted while inside, and that outside is a much safer option for (socially distant) meeting. Seems obvious but good to consider. And thank god it’s spring.

The conversation across my in-laws’ lawn veered in numerous directions. It was the most satisfying of small-talk bits, precious little morsels that, during a typical era, would have likely gone overlooked. We were catching up, which is something you don’t typically have a chance to do with local family. (Also to be noted, we were without the fantastic but impressively distracting Ruth.)

Grammy asked if she could come and park on our street and watch the girls play in the front yard from her car. 

Grampy said, “Yea, I wonder when we can start doing Wednesdays again. I miss Wednesdays.” Then, he rolled down the driveway on his bike, a white scarf around his face that, with the shades, made him look like an outlaw.

“Soon,” I said. “Hopefully, soon.”

#momtemplative #mindfulparenting #COVIDwords #onceuponatime

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar ‘18🎄

“Il Est Né” – “He Is Born” by @i-am-melancholys-child

a childhood AU Christmas fic

“Papa, I want to leave.”

Christine tugs on her father’s sleeve, but he ignores her, too focused on speaking with a man dressed in funny-looking clothes. She knows Papa is busy. She knows how his face lit up when he heard of a carnival in the city. They hurried here as quickly as she could pull on her cloak, still having to wound her scarf around her face as she ran to keep up with his long strides. He clutches his violin case in his arms, hoping he can play here to earn some coin.

In this large tent, it is warmer, and she tugs the scarf off her nose and mouth, peering around them. She does not like this strange place. It reeks of animals and something else, and the people are strange. While she has seen many different people in her travels with Papa, she sees the way they whisper behind their hands when they see her. Her hair is wild around her face, and the sole of one shoe is peeling off. She knows her blue eyes are set too wide in her thin face, and her body is scrawny from lack of consistent food.

“Papa,” she tries again.

“Does your pretty daughter want to explore?” the man asks, his accent one she does not recognize. “We have much to see here.” His dark eyes glitter, and Christine takes a step back.

Papa glances down at her. “Give me a moment, min ängel. I will come and find you.”

“There are animals further within the tent if you wish to see them,” the man adds.

Christine does not like the way he looks at her, but she nods and does as her father wishes. He will not leave her alone in the apartment – their neighbors are not to be trusted – and she does not want to be a bother when he is trying to find work.

She steps through the curtain to enter a large area lined on either side with cages. She sees no one else, but the hour is late. She takes her time, peering into each cage, seeing animals she has read about yet never seen herself: a young lion in one, birds with colorful plumes, two elephants with limp trunks.

She supposes she is supposed to be dazzled by the exotic animals. Instead, she feels sorry for them. How can they be happy in cages all day? Animals are supposed to roam free.

Reaching the end of the tent, she puffs a sigh. She almost turns back to see if Papa is done, but something makes her decide to continue onward. Her fingers part the exit, and she peers outside. More smaller tents dot the stretch of lawn, some of them lit up with lanterns. There are people stirring about here, and she draws back, not wanting to be seen.

And that’s when she notices the tarp separating a section of the animal tent. She nudges it with her arm, and the tarp pulls back, revealing a hidden room with another cage within. Dirty straw litters the floor.

A small brown shape crouches in the far corner.

“What are you?” she murmurs to herself.

The brown shape stirs, and she catches a glimpse of pale arms crossed over grubby knees. He wears short pants with no stockings and a shirt that is mostly tatters. A potato sack covers his entire head. Two holes are cut into the sack, and she sees yellow eyes lift and peer back at her.

A boy? It is a boy, taller than her, but skinnier if that is possible.

She takes a step closer. “You’re not an animal at all, are you?”

The boy does not respond, staring openly, arms wound around his drawn knees.

“What are you doing in there?” she asks, stepping closer enough to close her hands around the bars. “Do you need help to get out?” When the boy does not reply again, she searches around the front of the cage. A padlock holds the door locked, and she gives a futile shake of the gate.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises and dashes out of the room. She flies across the long length of the animal tent until she arrives back, panting, where her father still speaks with the strange man.

Papa looks down at her. “Why are you out of breath, ängel?”

“I saw a boy in a cage!”

The strange man folds his arms, staring intently at her. “Did you now, pretty girl? Snooping, were you?”

She levels a piercing blue glare upon him. “People shouldn’t be in cages unless they are bad, and children are never back enough to be locked up. Papa,” she says, taking his hand, “let me show you.”

“I think our business here is done,” the man says. He steps to the side to block their path back the way Christine came. “If you want to see any of the shows, you can come back when we open the day after Christmas as a paying customer.”

Papa hesitates, but then he says slowly, “I doubt you would enjoy having the gendarmerie check out your facility here before you open.”

It is a threat, but a vague enough one that the man merely shrugs off. “Your daughter is very pretty, violinist. I would hate to have something happen to her.”

Papa’s face colors above his beard. He swoops down and picks up Christine with one strong arm, clutches his violin with the other hand, and says, “Show me the boy, ängel.”

The man scoffs, but he does not do anything when Papa shoulders past him. They hurry down the animal tent, Christine’s hand pointing like a white beacon in the low light, until they come to the hidden cage.

Christine knows they cannot leave the boy the moment Papa sees him huddles within those bars. The boy will be theirs, no matter what Papa has to do.

“Clearly, he is a nuisance to you,” Papa says to the man, who has followed him. “I will take him off your hands. In exchange, I will not tell the police how you have treated him.”

“You can’t expect me to let him go for free. He would have fetched me quite a large ticket fee during this winter season, when Parisians are starved for entertainment!”

Christine watches her father’s face, which is close to her own, and she clutches his shoulder. They already have so little. She feels a ping of shame for bringing more hardship upon her father, as well as another mouth to feed in the future, but this is one of the many reasons she loves him so. He will not leave without the boy.

Papa’s hand goes white-knuckled around the handle of his violin case. Her eyes widen, her heart racing. He can’t possibly…

Wriggling, she slips from Papa’s arm. She digs beneath the collar of her dress and fishes out the chain there. The pendant, when she cups it in her palms, is warm from being against her skin. The boy’s eyes are trained upon her, two yellow pinpricks of light in the shadows of his cell.

“What about my necklace?” she asks the man. “It is gold.”

Papa scowls. “No, ängel-” he begins.

“It is all right, Papa.”

The man takes the pendant from her. He does not open the locket, but she knows what he will see inside: a tiny picture of her mother. Her heart aches, but she juts out her chin, waiting for the man’s decision.

He shoves it into his pocket. “Done.” Then he tosses Papa a key. “The thing in there is useless to me anyway. Just last week, he stabbed his handler in the neck with a piece of wood.” He laughs as though he has just made a joke.

Papa unlocks the cage. Before either of them can call to the boy, he flashes out of the cage upon skinny legs and launches himself at the man. Christine thinks he is attacking, but he only hugs the man tightly until a kick sends him skittering backward across the dirt floor.

Christine cries out at the viciousness. The boy disappears into the shadows behind the cage.

“That is enough!” Papa’s voice booms through the air. He bends down to a knee and speaks much softer to the figure huddling away from them. “I purchased your freedom, my boy. You are welcome to join us at our home, where you will be treated with kindness. We are leaving now, but I hope you will come with us. Come, Christine.”

He speaks not another word to the man, who watches them leave. Christine takes her father’s free hand and glances behind them once they are out of the clutches of the traveling fair. She does not see the boy.

“Papa, will he follow?” she asks as they begin the long walk back home.

“I hope so, ängel.” He is silent for a long while, then adds, “That was quite a beautiful thing you did, giving up your mother’s necklace for another.”

“I had to.”

Still, the loss does sting. Her neck feels empty for the first time in her entire life.

After a while, she looks back over her shoulder. She sees the boy making his way among the shadows of the buildings. He ducks into alleys and hides from the view of other people on the streets, but he is following, and Christine turns back around with a smile.

Their small apartment has chilled since they have been gone. Papa goes to stir up the furnace while Christine leaves the door cracked open just in case. It isn’t until they have settled in with bowls of stew that the door creaks upon its hinges. Neither of them glance that way, but she sees Papa hiding his own smile behind his bowl.

Now that he is out of the cage, the boy is taller than she realized, a whole head above her. She wonders if he is older than her seven years. The smell coming off him is almost intolerable, but Papa merely continues to spoon his stew, and so she does the same. Glittering yellow eyes stare them down from the doorway, almost daring them to say anything.

When the boy finally shuts the door behind him, Papa puts down his own bowl and spoons stew into another. Silently, he hands it toward the boy. Like a panther springing, the boy grabs the bowl and recoils into the recesses of one of the bedrooms.

Christine’s eyes meet those of her father, and she sees such pride and love shining there.

“It is Christmas tomorrow, Papa,” she says later, taking both of their bowls to the sink. “Perhaps we could go window shopping? See the trees lit up in the park?”

“Of course, ängel. I only wish I could provide more for you this Christmas. It will be another stark one, I am afraid.”

“It is all right, Papa. You know I don’t need much.”

“Even so.”

Papa gets up from his chair, and Christine sets to cleaning up after dinner. Soon, she hears her father’s baritone yelp and an animalistic wail start up from the bedroom. She rushes in to find her father standing over the boy, whose head is now uncovered; the sack is clutched in one of Papa’s fists.

“I was only trying to see if he was injured,” Papa says a bit breathlessly. “Ängel, go back into the kitchen now.”

But Christine has already seen what startled her father so. She can see the sparse hair growing from the boy’s nearly bald head, the sunken cheeks, the thin lips. The hole where a nose should be.

The boy is staring at them with wide, wild eyes. His chest heaves. Then he drops to the floor and slides his skinny body beneath the bed frame, hiding from them both.

Christine’s heart breaks, but she takes swift action. “I am so sorry,” she tells the boy. “Papa and I would never do anything to hurt you. Please come out when you are ready. You don’t have to hide from us.” Then she pushes her father from the room.

Papa mutters a quick prayer in Swedish. “We may have taken more than we can handle with this boy, ängel.”

“Don’t despair now, Papa,” she admonishes, hands on her hips. “It is Christmas! Tomorrow, we will celebrate everything we have, especially each other.”

He gives a soft, rueful laugh. But he does pull her in for a burly hug. “My kind, sweet girl. I would give you the world if I could!”

“Give me your violin playing tomorrow. That is all I want.”

“As long as you sing with me.”

“Of course, Papa!”

They sit up for a while, but the boy does not emerge again from the bedroom. Papa goes to his own room after tucking Christine snugly on the sofa. She does not mind the boy being in her room; it is warmer here in front of the fire anyway.

She wakes sometime in the night. The fire has burned lower now, but she sees the reedy figure bent over the embers. She watches, scarcely breathing, as he strokes the fire until warmth seeps to her cool limbs once more. He seems calmer now. His clothes look cleaner, and he no longer smells; he must have washed up while they were sleeping.

He gazes into the flames for a while, and she can no longer contain herself. She sits up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. “Hello,” she calls softly.

His head jerks around. Eyes hot as the fire burn into her through the holes of his sack. And then he is off once more, fleeing back into her bedroom.

“No, wait!” she says as loudly as she dares without waking Papa. She frees her legs from her tangled nightgown and follows him. When there is no sign of him, she drops to her knees and looks under the bed. Yellow eyes blink back at her.

Sighing, she settles on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the mattress. “I’m sorry if I startled you again. I can’t imagine what you have been through. You have no parents? I lost my mother when I was a baby. I can’t remember her. All I want is to be your friend, okay? Maybe you will trust me eventually?”

She rests her head back and looks up at the dark ceiling. “I bet it is Christmas now, isn’t it? I’m sorry I don’t have a present to give you. Would it be all right if I sing? Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, singing helps me fall back asleep.”

The boy is silent, so she starts with the first French carol she ever learned: “Il Est Né.” She hopes her song might bring him a little comfort too, and she lets the slow melody seep into her limbs. Then she sings a few of her favorite Swedish carols, her voice ringing through the cooler night air of the small room.

Her eyelids are growing heavy again. She straightens, intending to head back to the sofa, when she sees the boy standing before her. She had not even heard him move.

“You have the voice of an angel,” he says, his voice low and cracking as though he has not used it in a long time.

She shakes her head. “I’m just a girl. My name is Christine. What’s yours?”

He does not answer. Instead, one of his hands goes to the pocket of his frayed pants. The chain glitters as it dangles from his fist, her mother’s golden locket catching the light from the living room’s fire.

Tears flood her eyes. She holds out her cupped hands, and the boy lowers the necklace into her palms with the utmost care. “Thank you so much,” she says in a choked whisper. She has an idea of how he came by it, but she does not ask.

“Erik.”

She blinks, looks back up at him. His eyes are sweeping over her face as though committing every detail to memory.

“Erik,” he says again. “My name is Erik.”

She smiles, and when she does, the tears break over her cheeks. They are happy tears, the first of many.

“Merry Christmas, Erik.”

#poto advent calendar #poto #phantom of the opera #thank you for your contribution #i-am-melancholys-child #poto advent calendar 2018 #tenth door #tenth window #submission #long post

[nhouvang-blog]

Pankaj and I first met in graduate school, by way of introduction from a mutual friend. Over the course of several months, our friendship blossomed. He asked me to go on a date with him several times; I was initially skeptical, but eventually conceded. I still remember staying up all night after our first date, talking about our families, our shared love of travel, and our life’s ambitions. It was as if we had known each other in a previous lifetime. We knew right away that we wanted to marry each other, but, of course, the actual proposal came years later. Ultimately, I found myself marrying my best friend and the man of my dreams.

What was your wedding style/theme/colors & how did it represent the two of you: Our goal was to create a magical, memorable, elegant experience for our family and friends, that was a true reflection of ourselves, our love, and our gratitude. The entire process really was a labor of love. Pankaj and I are both very detail-oriented people, so we poured our time and energy into making the wedding weekend an experience that everyone would remember forever. We brought on board Beth Helmstetter and Madeline Hunter, of Beth Helmstetter Events, to bring our ambitious vision to life. Beth’s creativity inspires me and she has such vast experience with luxury destination events; we knew that she was the one right away. Even now, several months after our wedding, we still receive countless compliments on how beautiful and meticulously planned the wedding was. The credit for that goes to her – she and her team are extraordinary. All events were held at the Ritz Carlton Bacara Resort & Spa in Santa Barbara, California. We wanted every event to be distinctly different from the others in terms of mood, décor, and color palette. The resort has such a striking beauty of its own, so it was important for us to keep the décor elegant yet simple, to enhance the natural beauty of the surroundings without competing with it. We were fortunate to be able to take over the resort for the weekend, so that all guests could be hosted on property to create a unified experience. The staff was amazing and took great care of our guests, which meant a lot to us.

The wedding was held over an extended weekend in September 2018. The events were as follows: Intimate mehendi gathering on Wednesday AM. The wedding festivities started with a small mehendi gathering on Wednesday afternoon. This was an informal event for family before the rest of the guests started to arrive. It was held in a private villa overlooking the ocean. The goal was to have my mehendi ready by Thursday night, so I could move around and enjoy the Welcome Party the following night. Vaishali Gordhan, of Henna by Vaish, was my mehendi artist. She has a wonderful energy and she did a beautiful job of bring my creative vision to life. We used fleur-de-lis motifs to symbolize the city of Paris, where Pankaj and I got engaged, and wave patterns to symbolize Santa Barbara. In the end, Vaish captured our love story beautifully through her art. I wore a crimson colored silk slip-dress and an off the shoulder blush cashmere cropped sweater. I paired it with mother’s vintage pearl and diamond necklace and earrings. The hair and makeup were natural.

Welcome dinner and Mehendi Party on Thursday PM: The Welcome Dinner was on Thursday night. It was a fun, summery, bohemian inspired event that was held in a private, enclosed lawn space on the resort for our closest family and friends. The space was decorated with suspended, hanging lights and hundreds of candles and lanterns. We had one long dinner table, which was draped with block print textiles and mismatched china. Centerpieces featured florals with feathers in dusty tones, periwinkle, and pale blush interspersed with gold lanterns and wooden bowls of heaping nuts and fruit. A separate lounge area with polished ivory furniture paired with mismatched block printed pillows and Persian rugs was created for guests who wished to get their mehendi done. Dinner featured a farm-to-table family style menu, incorporating seasonal produce local to the region. Guests especially loved that Ronobir Lahiri played renditions of modern songs on his sitar, filling the air with beautiful and mystical sounds. Pankaj wore a draped, mousepeach colored jersey kurta, with silk churidar style pants. He paired it with a mousepeach and silver brocade vest. All were from Shantanu & Nikhil. Accessories included an Omega watch, which was an engagement gift to him from my parents, and Grecian-style sandals by Joy. I wore a custom JADE by Monica and Karishma organza wrap blouse with a matching netted ivory and nude lehenga skirt. I paired it with champagne wedges and a Whiting & Davis silver clutch. Jewelry included Tiffany & Co gold leaf, pearl, and white diamond earrings and necklace. I paired this with my grandmother’s vintage gold and pearl bangles.

Wedding Ceremony on Saturday AM: The wedding ceremony was on Saturday morning, on a lawn overlooking the ocean. The celebrations commenced with a baraat procession around the resort property, which led into the wedding ceremony. Upon arrival to the ceremony, guests were greeted with rose water lemonade. The Hindu ceremony took place under an 18 foot mandap made of a light mango wood. Overgrown blooms in shades of deep red, fuchsia, aubergine, blush pink, and cream were wrapped around the mandap, giving the appearance that they had been there for years. The stage was covered in layered rugs in the same color palette. The ceremony was adapted to include our personal vows and ended with a kiss. Following this, guests enjoyed brunch overlooking the ocean. Pankaj wore an ivory sherwani from Sabyasachi, paired with a matching ivory raw silk kurta and churidar pants. In keeping with the tradition of his family, he wore an ivory silk safa tied in a traditional Rajasthani style. He paired it with ivory suede loafers from Joy, a vintage emerald kalgi brooch, and an emerald necklace. He looked so handsome! Originally, for my wedding day, I wanted to be a non-traditional Indian bride and wear a muted palette. However, as the setting of the ceremony was finalized, we realized that a more vibrant color would be more striking with the blue sky and ocean as our backdrop. I ultimately decided to wear a red and gold lehenga from one of my favorite designers, Sabyasachi. It was traditionally inspired, but with a modern feel – a perfect representation of who I am as a person. The blouse had a sweetheart neckline and the chiffon dupattas had playful gold polka-dots. The all-over golden embroidery featured an intricate paisley pattern. I paired it with gold wedges. My mom and I made a special trip to Hyderabad, the city in India where she was raised, to pick out my wedding jewelry. I ultimately decided on a set from Kishandas & Co, a heritage jeweler in Hyderabad. I wore a maang tikka headpiece, earrings, collar choker/necklace, and bangles featuring raw, uncut diamonds, emeralds, and pearls in yellow gold. It was exquisite and complemented the lehenga perfectly. The whole experience of picking it out with my Mom was a memory I will treasure forever. Bridesmaids wore couture saris designed by me, in collaboration with Megha Rao of holiCHIC. Groomsmen wore bespoke raw silk kurta-churidar sets arranged by Mallika Oberoi, an upcoming Mumbai-based designer. She was incredibly resourceful for our wedding outfit preparations!

Reception on Saturday PM: The reception was held later that evening. This was a formal affair with women in summery gowns and men in summer suits. We wanted it to feel like an intimate dinner party with 250 of our closest friends and family –it was romantic and elegant. Cocktail hour was held at sunset, on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Grey tarnished bars were donned with saturated blooms repurposed from the ceremony. Guests were greeted with custom cocktails and treated to sounds from Ybarra, a local Spanish guitarist. Guests were then escored to the Bacara ballroom, which was draped with a soft grey velvet. Half of the tables were light wood, and the other half were linened with a luxurious textured linen in shades of cream. We used a combination of cream velvet, rose velvet, and X backed wooded chairs. The tabletop featured gold leaf china with gold flatware and classic glassware. Centerpieces featured blooms in shades of lavender, blush, and aubergine. Blush and grey taper candles were placed in gold holders, with tealights in rose colored glass votives. We especially loved the chandelier with overgrown green foliage and twinkle lights, and the custom leaf-printed gobo projection over the dance floor. The rest of the room was filled with potted plants and trees, in keeping with my vision of bringing the outdoors in. One of the most special memories was our first dance, which was to “La Vie en Rose.” Anthony Ybarra, a local Spanish guitarist, was kind enough to play this for us. Pankaj and I had spent countless hours with our choreographer, practicing every turn and twirl. But, in that moment, nothing else mattered – it was just the two of us, husband and wife for the first time. This was followed by sentimental toasts from our parents, our siblings, and our closest friends. Shortly thereafter, guests jumped on the dance floor and didn’t stop partying until 2 am! The afterparty consisted of guests wrapped in blankets, under the stars, enjoying late-night snacks. It will be a night to be remembered for years to come! Pankaj worked closely with the Executive Chef at Bacara to develop a custom-plated Indian-inspired menu using local ingredients. Our triple-berry wedding cake was brought in from Sweet Lady Jane, one of our favorite LA bakeries. Pankaj wore a made-to-measure tuxedo from Tom Ford and woven leather shoes from Lanvin. He paired it with his Omega watch, and his David Yurman black diamond wedding band. I wanted to wear a soft pastel shade to complete the romantic feel of the event, and a modern silhouette that would contrast with my previous looks. In the end, I wore a custom blush version of the Sunset Gown by Naeem Khan. It was so special to be able to visit his atelier in New York and work with the team on this special dress. It featured a deep cowl neck at the back, and intricate crystal beading that shimmered under the candlelight. I paired it with a custom a yellow diamond bracelet, cocktail ring, and earrings. Shoes were from the French designer Jonak, and sourced from their store just steps away from where we got engaged in Paris. Clutch was from Inge Christopher.

For us, the most special parts were: -Milni: This is the Sanskrit word for “meeting” and is an opportunity for the family of the bride and groom to welcome each other. Our mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and elders greeted each other, exchanging smiles and garlands of roses. It was really special to see their willingness to embrace one another.

-Vows: Somehow, in the all the last-minute preparations leading up to the weekend, I had forgotten to write my vows. I remember well staying up late to write them on the night before our wedding. Once I put the pen to paper, though, the thoughts flowed freely. It was very special to be able to share these promises to one another, in front of our friends and family.

What about your venue made it “the” place: Pankaj and I had always fancied a destination wedding. We really wanted to create something special and memorable for our guests, who would be flying in from all over the world. We explored several destinations, but ultimately kept coming back to Santa Barbara. We have a long-standing tradition of visiting every year: it’s stunning and picturesque, but also feels familiar and intimate. It’s one of our favorite places, and we wanted our family and friends to fall in love with it just as we did many years ago.

What flowers were used in your bouquet: The bouquet featured blooms in shades of fuchsia, raspberry, burgundy, nude, and pale blush. Holly, our florist, affixed lockets containing photos of each of my late grandparents on their wedding days at the base of the bouquet. This was a really special way to include them in the festivities.

What from your wedding was DIY: One of the most fun aspects of wedding planning was preparing for the Sangeet dances. We had a joint dance for Pankaj and I, a bridesmaid dance, a groomsmen dance, and then one huge group dance.

We hired a local choreographer, Ana Perales of Get Amped Entertainment, to help us create Western choreography to several of our favorite Bollywood songs. Most of our bridal party didn’t have dance backgrounds, so we were really humbled by everyone’s willingness to participate. It was endearing to see how focused and eager they were to master the moves! The whole process brought us much closer together as friends.

Most memorable moment from the day: One of my favorite memories was our first look, which took place on a private bluff overlooking the ocean. The clouds were clearing, and the sun was breaking through; there was something so beautiful about it. At the time, it felt like some sort of blessing. In that moment, there was a rush of emotions. I’ll never forget the look in Pankaj’s eyes – we couldn’t hold back our tears of love and joy. We had both been dreaming about the day for so long. Now, in hindsight, we never could have anticipated how that moment would change our level of commitment to one another and solidify us as a team, ready to take on the adventures of life ahead, hand in hand. Another really special moment was the Father Daughter/ Mother Son Dance during the Reception. Pankaj and I wanted to recognize the special role our parents have played in our lives. Without them, we wouldn’t be who we are today. In an effort to acknowledge them for that, we did a Father-Daughter/ Mother-Son Dance. While the dance itself was space, the preparation for it was arguable more memorable. We took two joint dance classes at the Arthur Murray Dance Studio in Santa Barbara during the week leading up to the wedding. There were lots of smiles and laughter (and crushed toes)!

How long it took you to plan & the biggest hurdle you overcame: We planned our wedding over the course of a year and a half. Pankaj and I are both physicians, and our unpredictable work schedules would have made it hard to plan any quicker. For us, it was just the right amount of time to be thoughtful about our decisions and mindful of the guest experience. The biggest hurdle was learning to reconcile our differences of opinion. In the end, we compromised and our weekend really was the best reflection of both of us. We are both very proud of what we accompanied. I am in tears every time I look thought our photos and watch our highlight film! I believe that planning a wedding represents the first of many challenges in life, and it’s important to remember that things won’t always go as planned. That’s OK. Focus on what is most important: the commitment to love each other unconditionally and to prioritize each other above all else. Stay positive and forward-thinking. Having all of your loved ones in the same place to celebrate one of the most special moments in your life is priceless. Other advise would be to put yourself in the shoes of the guests. They have come long and far to celebrate this day with you. How can you make the experience enjoyable and seamless for them? When planning your bridal looks, start as soon as you can. It takes a lot of time to produce, ship, and alter these garments. And, on top of that, you need accessories for multiple outfits. Decide early and order well in advance! Meet in person with key professionals that will be with you throughout the weekend. You want to make sure that you are surrounded by the right kind of positive energy during that time. When it came to assembling the rest of our team (photography, videography, makeup artist, priest), we were very discerning. I had a particular vision of how I wanted things to look and be captured, so I spent a lot of time researching, meeting with, and selecting the right people to make it happen. They all did a wonderful job.

The post MEGHNA + PANKAJ // Santa Barbara Wedding Photography by Lauren & Abby Ross appeared first on South Asian Bride Magazine.

[storytellingape]

mad about you

1521 words; clydeland

After Morgan, Stensland’s life sort of falls apart. ‘Sort of’ is actually putting it mildly. What happens is nothing short of catastrophic. First, he’s fired from his temp job at the furniture store. Then, after failing to pay the rent for the fourth month in a row, his landlord kicks him out. The worst part of it all is that he winds up through no fault of his own in Boone County, Wes Virginia: broke, friendless, and with no clear recollection of how he’d wound up there.

When Stensland tries to recall what might have led him to travel halfway across the country to what can only be described as ostensibly the middle of nowhere, what comes to mind is only a grey haze: flashes of memories too vague to whittle together into a concrete narrative. Liquor had been involved, naturally. As had been tears.

For a month he lives off Doritos and tins of Campbell’s mushroom soup before finding gainful employment at an innocuous little bar called Duck Tape where the job description remains largely unclear and his list of tasks ranges anywhere from entering a list of rolling expenses into a spreadsheet to mopping up vomit from the grimy bathroom floor.

Mostly he just stands around watching his boss, Clyde, serve drinks at the bar one-handed. He’d lost his hand during a tour in Iraq and now wears a prosthetic arm though by no means does that make him any less adept at making cocktails or driving stick shift or punching people in the face when they’re being a dick.

By all accounts, Stensland has no business working at the bar but for some reason Clyde keeps him around even if he can’t mix drinks to save his life and has the tendency to hog the jukebox whenever his favourite song comes on. Stensland can even barely hold his liquor: two shots and he’ll spiral into a bout of self-loathing, four and he’ll start taking off his clothes. It’s become a bit of a problem with Clyde having to wrangle Stensland off the pool table and lock him in the backroom until he promises to at least put his pants back on.

Then there’s  the problem of Clyde himself which vacillates between horribly annoying to downright embarrassing. He’s got most of the qualities Stensland enjoys in a person: nice without being too nice, a good ear for stories, with a handsome face that rakes in tips.  And he has an accent - jesus - so that when he forms words slowly and very carefully with his mouth, Stensland’s spine sings just a little. In short, Clyde is a good guy and Stensland could date him if he weren’t dead inside and doomed to a life of heartbreak — would have, maybe, in another life; they would have the cutest children.

*

Duck Tape is just like any other small town bar: dim and cosy, with pool tables and an old jukebox, a counter top that’s never not sticky and a bathroom that hasn’t seen better days since 1987. The profits come and go and so do the number of customers though Stensland has learned over time to remember names and faces, telling apart first timers from the crush of usual patrons, haggard guys clad in denim from head to toe often with the gait of the road-weary. Usually they’ll be trickling in late from work and seating themselves in their favourite corners.

Clyde makes strong drinks, has a generous pour, and he never forgets a face. He’s a good listener, smiling at all the right intervals, offering a drink on the house whenever the situation calls for it.

The first month, Stensland keeps dropping things and ends up almost breaking the ice machine. The second, and he’s close to having a breakdown, his arms aching all the time from lugging boxes of this and that to the store room. By the third, he’s still somehow employed but no less frazzled when Clyde has him working behind the bar, handing him bottles and refilling drinks. But he gets used to it, eventually, and gets better at deflecting wayward hands flitting in the general direction of his arse, falling into a rhythm of waking up late in the afternoon to choke down two coffees and work a twelve, sometimes fourteen hour shift.

Often, he gets home at seven in the morning, full of breakfast/dinner courtesy of Clyde. Clyde drops him off because he’s got a car, and because, he claims, it’s not out of the way at all, even though he lives in an opposite direction altogether; they listen to Motown on the radio with the windows pulled down, the wind making hell of their hair, and drive through sleepy roads still empty of traffic, sometimes talking, sometimes not.

He can get used to this, Stensland thinks as he tips face-first into bed after barreling straight through the front door, too tired to change out of his clothes. He listens to the soothing rumble of Clyde’s car driving off, kicking off his shoes and shimmying under the covers; then he’s asleep within seconds.

*

Stensland doesn’t have a lot of friends in Boone County; his entire social life revolves around Clyde and his family: there’s Mellie, his sister, gorgeous just like him, and tall, and Jim, who comes around  the bar for free drinks sometimes bringing his precocious five year old daughter along.

On Sundays, when the bar is closed, Stensland sleeps in and wakes only to piss, shower, and eat because he’s hungry. Sometimes if he’s lucky, Clyde invites him to family barbecues, the location of which changes from time to time depending on whose turn it is to host it. This time it’s Clyde’s, and Stensland shows up bringing nachos, only because he’d feel like an interloper otherwise. Clyde’s house is small, but charming, a bungalow with a shingled roof and wrap-around porch, an actual white picket fence. There’s a bouncy castle set up in the lawn for the kids, and Stensland can already see Clyde slaving away at the grill even from a distance away, taking intermittent sips from a beer bottle and waving away bees. He’s wearing an apron over his clothes. He shouldn’t look good wearing it. But frankly, the man can wear a blanket and still look good, so the sight of him makes Stensland feel a bit faint though no more than usual.

“Hey,” Stensland says as he approaches, dodging a wayward kid on his way to the bouncy castle.

Clyde offers him a small smile. Stensland dies just a little. “I was lookin’ everywhere for you. I thought you were gonna flake on me.”

“Me?” Stensland laughs. “Never.” He sets the bag of Nachos on the table next to the array of other foodstuff: bowls of corn chips, some dip, plenty of coleslaw, a mountain of cornbread. “Need help with the grill?” he offers.

Clyde raises his good hand. “Nope, I got this. Now you just sit there and look pretty and enjoy yourself because you’re my guest and not working today. All right?”

Stensland flushes at being called pretty. Clyde doesn’t mean it of course; it’s just an expression. Still, it makes him oddly shy, and he bounces back on forth on his heels before confessing, “I don’t know anybody here.”

Clyde doesn’t look up from flipping a beef patty. “You can sit here then, if you’d like. Keep me company. I don’t know anybody neither. It’s mostly Jim’s friends from high school.”

“What about your friends?” Stensland asks.

Clyde just shrugs one shoulder, like that answers it. “There’s beer in the cooler.” He points to it with a spatula, and Stensland lets out a triumphant noise when he pops the lid off a Corona. It tastes like shit, but at least it’s free.

Free keeps him from going hungry. Stensland barely has any savings. He’s subletting a room/apartment in someone’s backyard, a square featureless building that had formerly been storage space, with terrible insulation and only one window looking out into a grey fence. The landlord sometimes forgets to unlatch the side-gate, resulting in Stensland having to climb inelegantly over the railing more times than not, with Clyde watching from the car and offering to help, giving him a boost that sometimes results in Stensland kicking him in the nose or straddling his face. Stensland’s whole living situation is shit, but it’s the only one Stensland can currently afford. He has a roof over his head, a mattress and an electric kettle. He can’t really complain.

#clydeland #kylux adjacent #stensland #clyde logan #my fic

[mustdang-100]

Snowflakes & Such

This was my @mp100secretsanta2017 gift for @lovigal, who requested holiday-esque goodness with Serizawa, Ritsu & Mob. I’m reposting here so that there’s a version with a read-more. I hope you enjoy!!

“One last stop!” Serizawa said eagerly, eyes running down his neatly checked-off list of holiday cookie recipients. Reigen tried not to sigh with relief, brushing at the snowflakes that had settled on his coat and checking the heavy gray sky anxiously.

“Ah, good. If this stuff keeps falling we might have to worry about train delays.”

For the first holiday season in years in which Serizawa was neither trapped by the fear of his own powers nor a member of a terrorist organization, he’d apparently decided to fully embrace every festive tradition he could get his hands on. Last week he’d enlisted Mob in helping him decorate Spirits & Such with paper snowflakes of various geometric designs, dangling them from the ceiling tiles by paper clips stolen from Reigen’s desk. Serizawa had illuminated their artworks with ropes of tiny white lights that he strung through the office. And most recently, he’d flexed his burgeoning cooking skills and baked enough cookies to hand-deliver some to everyone he knew in Spice City.

Reigen had never been particularly interested in the holiday season before now, always regarding it with more annoyance than pleasure. Yet Serizawa’s joyous enthusiasm was infectious, and Reigen found himself offering to join the cookie-delivering spree just to continue basking in the glow of Serizawa’s delight.

However, Serizawa had made a surprising number of friends and acquaintances in the short amount of time since he’d left Claw; Reigen hadn’t realized quite how many houses they’d be visiting. Confronted with house after house of “Happy Holidays!” by strangers who welcomed Serizawa and then peered at him with polite uncertainty, Reigen was very ready to turn in for the day. The steadily-increasing snowfall made him all the more eager to return home to lonely but familiar solitude.

He peered over Serizawa’s burly shoulder, trying to see where they were going next.

“Who’s the lucky recipient of the last plate?”

“Kageyama-kun’s family!” Serizawa was practically buzzing with excitement. “I saved the best batch for them, they’re hardly burnt at all.”  

Reigen brightened; finally, someone he knew. He picked up his pace, not only eager for the chance to see Mob, but also for the excuse to see him at home, double check that everything was going okay for him there. Reigen didn’t see Mob’s family very often, and Mob’s little brother in particular had always viewed him with suspicion. Reigen welcomed any opportunity to correct this impression.

An unpleasant thought struck him at this, and he glanced at Serizawa uneasily.  

“Ah…crap. I probably should have brought something for them, too.”

Serizawa beamed. “Don’t worry Reigen-san; I put both our names on the gift tag!”

Reigen was taken aback, but squinted at the tag pasted to the red cellophane-wrapped paper plate. Sure enough, both their names were there in Serizawa’s clear, careful writing.

“Oh.” Words failed Reigen at the kindhearted gesture. “Thanks, Serizawa.”

Serizawa grinned wider, shaking the fresh snow from his curls. “No problem!”

They continued down the peaceful street in the direction of the Kageyama’s house, footsteps crunching in the snow. Fat flakes drifted all around them, muffling sound, blurring the landscape and lending it a strange sense of isolation, like they were the only two people in the world.

Reigen grinned at Serizawa, feeling suddenly a little giddy. “You ever catch snowflakes on your tongue as a kid?”

Serizawa’s eyes rounded. “No! I never spent much time outside, even as a kid. Other kids thought I was weird – I hid a lot.”

Reigen’s heart panged at that, but he froze the grin to his face, holding the pains of Serizawa’s past at bay and eager to help him make up for any lost time.

“You want to try it now?”

“Doesn’t that seem a little, you know, immature?”

“Serizawa, you spent two days last week doing arts and crafts to hang in the office.”

“That was to help bring in business!” Serizawa protested. “I heard customers love those kinds of gimmicks.”

“Ok, sure. Of course. Still, no one’s watching now, eh? No reason not to be a little silly? Here, I’ll try it first.” Reigen closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, waiting for the soft, cold sensation of a snowflake on his tongue.

Instead, a well-packed clump of snow smacked him square in the face.

Reigen rocked back at the impact, sputtering and choking at the snow that filled his eyes and mouth.

“What the–!?”

He swiped at his snow-covered face and glared out at his surroundings, searching for the culprit. Serizawa held a glove-clad hand clasped over his mouth in shock, but was clearly trying not to laugh. Reigen followed his line of sight, turning around just in time to see a spiky black head duck behind a mound of snow.

A second head poked up from another snow mound a few meters away, one sporting a very familiar bowl-cut that peeked out from under a woolen winter hat.

It seemed they had arrived at the Kageyama’s neighborhood.

“Ritsu, I don’t know if that was very nice. Shishou wasn’t expecting it.” Mob blinked, trying to free the snowflakes that clung to his lashes as he looked up at Reigen. “Hi Shishou, what are you doing here?”

Ritsu’s head slowly rose back up over the top of his own snow fort, just enough for his eyes to peek over. They regarded Reigen with a predatory gleam, and Reigen would have bet money that another snowball was being held out of sight just below. Reigen pasted on a smile and shuffled a bit closer to Serizawa, just in case.

“No, no, Mob. It’s fine,” he said, wiping the last of the snow from his face. “We just dropped by to bring your family some treats, didn’t mean to interrupt your epic snow battle.”

Serizawa stepped forward, clutching the cookie plate, looking back and forth between the two forts with eyes bright with interest.

“Were you having a snowball fight? Like on TV?”

Mob nodded, and tossed a snowball in demonstration. It flew about two meters before landing on the snow-covered lawn, breaking into pieces with a soft psh.

Mob contemplated the location it had fallen, as though trying to understand where he’d gone wrong. Ritsu finally abandoned his post and stood up straight behind his snow fort. He walked to his brother, squeezing a snowball between his hands as he packed it tighter.

“I told you Nii-san, I think you’ll do better if you aim high up. Then your snowballs will at least go farther.” Ritsu tossed his snowball up and towards their own house in demonstration. It flew high, traveling much farther than Mob’s had. Mob nodded seriously, taking his brother’s advice as absolute fact.

Reigen saw an opportunity, and jumped on it before he could second-guess himself.

“Ritsu’s right, Mob. Here, let me show you my special technique for throwing snowballs–”

Ritsu whipped toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, interesting. You want to try teaching my brother something else you know nothing about.”

“Hey, now,” Reigen said, hands flying up in a placating gesture. “I just think that, with my advanced knowledge of both natural and paranatural physics, I–”

Ritsu’s second snowball hit him in the face.

Reigen spluttered loudly and indignantly, but he didn’t miss the quickly-smothered guffaw from his left. He also saw, as soon as he’d cleared enough of the snow to see, a spark of humor in Mob’s face, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in weeks - not since Dimple’s abrupt and mysterious disappearance.

A new idea formed swiftly. Reigen wanted to encourage this light-hearted mood of Mob’s, and if Serizawa’s attitude towards holiday activities thus far proved anything, he would have an absolute blast having a snowball fight.

Reigen glared huffily down at Ritsu, who was looking smug.

“Oho, I see how it is. Young Ritsu, I do believe that was a challenge.” Reigen drew himself up to his full height. “What do you say–myself and Mob versus you and Serizawa for a snowball fight the likes of which you’ve never in your young life encountered? Unless, of course, you’re too timid?”

Fire flashed in Ritsu’s eyes. “I think that’s the most intelligent idea you’ve had yet, Reigen-san,” Ritsu said, too calmly. “Nii-san and I would love to participate.”

“Excellent. Um, and no psychic powers allowed,” Reigen added hastily, eyeing Ritsu’s expression. “With my skills, it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.”

Mob wandered bemusedly to Reigen’s side, clearly keen to join whatever Ritsu wanted to do. However, Serizawa hesitated.

“Reigen-san, you’re sure this isn’t too childish? What if a prospective client sees?”

“Come now, Serizawa, snowball fights are winter holiday tradition!” Reigen said firmly. “We must defend our honor! And we can’t disappoint the boys, can we?”

“Oh,” Serizawa said, his expression clearing as he nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I will do my best, Reigen-san.”

***

Reigen had miscalculated.

“Run, Mob! Run!” Reigen panted, legs flying as fast as they would go as he pelted down the Kageyama’s street. Mob ran beside him, panting a little but otherwise seeming far less concerned than Reigen thought was warranted. Of course, that might be because the barrage of snowballs being flung their way all seemed to be aimed at him.

He chanced a quick look behind him. Ritsu was only a dozen or so meters back, Serizawa keeping pace right beside him. They both had snowballs in hand and equally-determined looks on their faces.

Serizawa’s enthusiasm plus Ritsu’s teenage vindictiveness were, it seemed, a devastating combination. A snowball hit the street with a more solid sound than Reigen thought a snowball had any right to make, barely missing his own churning feet.

“Serizawa, you know this suit isn’t meant for running!”

“Then stop running and defend your honor, Reigen-san!”

Reigen managed to dig up more speed.

The Kageyama’s house rose before them; at some point, they must have turned back around. As if on cue, Mrs. Kageyama opened the door just as he was racing up to it.

“Ah, hello!” Reigen huffed as he darted in close to the doorway, too close for Ritsu and Serizawa to risk the civilian casualty. Mob followed, and Serizawa and Ritsu joined them a few feet from the doorway, both looking pleased as punch, snowballs mysteriously vanished.

“We… just came… to drop off… some cookies!” Reigen continued, between breaths. Serizawa nodded earnestly, the picture of a generous visitor, as the plate of cookies dropped into his hands from the air above them. Mrs. Kageyama didn’t bat an eye, clearly accustomed to random psychic phenomena occurring in her house.

“Oh, how kind of you!” She smiled warmly at the group of them. “I know how much Shigeo looks up to you, Reigen-san, and Serizawa-san, he’s told us so much about you! I was just about to call the kids in for dinner, but there’s plenty if the two of you’d like to join us?”

“Oh! I, uh,” Reigen was at a loss for words for the second time that night at this offer. He found himself looking to Serizawa, whose broad grin had reappeared.

“We’d love to, thank you!” Serizawa said, taking Reigen’s look as an invitation to accept for the both of them.

Reigen found himself ushered in with the rest of the group, and before he knew it was seated at the kitchen table with the entire family. No probing looks on this visit; instead, Mrs. Kageyama cheerily questioned him about his business while Mr. Kageyama added more rice to his plate. Serizawa had managed to draw Mob into a conversation about his athletic club, complimenting him on his speed that day. Even Ritsu, who’d been studying his brother’s minutely-cheered expression, passed Reigen his silverware with something that was almost a smile.

Reigen started when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He twisted to see Serizawa offering him a chocolate-chip cookie, edges only a little too dark.

“Thanks for coming with me today, Reigen-san. I–I can’t express my gratitude enough, on top of how you’ve helped me, giving me a job, and helping me with school and with getting used to interacting with other people…Especially,” he swallowed uncertainly. “Especially since I got the feeling you didn’t care much for the holidays…”

“Oh…it’s no problem Serizawa! Happy to help, of course!” Reigen took the cookie, waving a hand airily as Serizawa beamed at him before turning back to rejoin his conversation with Mr. Kageyama. Reigen bit into the cookie, munching contemplatively. Not half bad, he thought, relaxing into the conversation and company, his concerns about the train schedule forgotten despite the snow softly piling up outside.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #secret santa #mp100 fanfiction #fluff #this was described to me as 'fluff with a hint of bitterness' #and i agree that's a good description #fanfiction #my fics #long post

[mp100secretsanta2017-blog]

Snowflakes & Such

From: Mustdang (mustdang-100.tumblr.com)

To: Lovi (lovigal.tumblr.com)

Message: Hello and very happy holidays Lovi! Here is a gift fic for you; it was great fun to write and I hope you enjoy!

“One last stop!” Serizawa said eagerly, eyes running down his neatly checked-off list of holiday cookie recipients. Reigen tried not to sigh with relief, brushing at the snowflakes that had settled on his coat and checking the heavy gray sky anxiously.

“Ah, good. If this stuff keeps falling we might have to worry about train delays.”

For the first holiday season in years in which Serizawa was neither trapped by the fear of his own powers nor a member of a terrorist organization, he’d apparently decided to fully embrace every festive tradition he could get his hands on. Last week he’d enlisted Mob in helping him decorate Spirits & Such with paper snowflakes of various geometric designs, dangling them from the ceiling tiles by paper clips stolen from Reigen’s desk. Serizawa had illuminated their artworks with ropes of tiny white lights that he strung through the office. And most recently, he’d flexed his burgeoning cooking skills and baked enough cookies to hand-deliver some to everyone he knew in Spice City.

Reigen had never been particularly interested in the holiday season before now, always regarding it with more annoyance than pleasure. Yet Serizawa’s joyous enthusiasm was infectious, and Reigen found himself offering to join the cookie-delivering spree just to continue basking in the glow of Serizawa’s delight.

However, Serizawa had made a surprising number of friends and acquaintances in the short amount of time since he’d left Claw; Reigen hadn’t realized quite how many houses they’d be visiting. Confronted with house after house of “Happy Holidays!” by strangers who welcomed Serizawa and then peered at him with polite uncertainty, Reigen was very ready to turn in for the day. The steadily-increasing snowfall made him all the more eager to return home to lonely but familiar solitude. 

He peered over Serizawa’s burly shoulder, trying to see where they were going next.

“Who’s the lucky recipient of the last plate?”

“Kageyama-kun’s family!” Serizawa was practically buzzing with excitement. “I saved the best batch for them, they’re hardly burnt at all.”  

Reigen brightened; finally, someone he knew. He picked up his pace, not only eager for the chance to see Mob, but also for the excuse to see him at home, double check that everything was going okay for him there. Reigen didn’t see Mob’s family very often, and Mob’s little brother in particular had always viewed him with suspicion. Reigen welcomed any opportunity to correct this impression.

An unpleasant thought struck him at this, and he glanced at Serizawa uneasily.   

“Ah…crap. I probably should have brought something for them, too.”

Serizawa beamed. “Don’t worry Reigen-san; I put both our names on the gift tag!”

Reigen was taken aback, but squinted at the tag pasted to the red cellophane-wrapped paper plate. Sure enough, both their names were there in Serizawa’s clear, careful writing.

“Oh.” Words failed Reigen at the kindhearted gesture. “Thanks, Serizawa.”

Serizawa grinned wider, shaking the fresh snow from his curls. “No problem!”

They continued down the peaceful street in the direction of the Kageyama’s house, footsteps crunching in the snow. Fat flakes drifted all around them, muffling sound, blurring the landscape and lending it a strange sense of isolation, like they were the only two people in the world.

Reigen grinned at Serizawa, feeling suddenly a little giddy. “You ever catch snowflakes on your tongue as a kid?”

Serizawa’s eyes rounded. “No! I never spent much time outside, even as a kid. Other kids thought I was weird – I hid a lot.” 

Reigen’s heart panged at that, but he froze the grin to his face, holding the pains of Serizawa’s past at bay and eager to help him make up for any lost time.

“You want to try it now?”

“Doesn’t that seem a little, you know, immature?”

“Serizawa, you spent two days last week doing arts and crafts to hang in the office.”

“That was to help bring in business!” Serizawa protested. “I heard customers love those kinds of gimmicks.”

“Ok, sure. Of course. Still, no one’s watching now, eh? No reason not to be a little silly? Here, I’ll try it first.” Reigen closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, waiting for the soft, cold sensation of a snowflake on his tongue.

Instead, a well-packed clump of snow smacked him square in the face.

Reigen rocked back at the impact, sputtering and choking at the snow that filled his eyes and mouth.

“What the–!?”

He swiped at his snow-covered face and glared out at his surroundings, searching for the culprit. Serizawa held a glove-clad hand clasped over his mouth in shock, but was clearly trying not to laugh. Reigen followed his line of sight, turning around just in time to see a spiky black head duck behind a mound of snow.

A second head poked up from another snow mound a few meters away, one sporting a very familiar bowl-cut that peeked out from under a woolen winter hat.

It seemed they had arrived at the Kageyama’s neighborhood.

“Ritsu, I don’t know if that was very nice. Shishou wasn’t expecting it.” Mob blinked, trying to free the snowflakes that clung to his lashes as he looked up at Reigen. “Hi Shishou, what are you doing here?”

Ritsu’s head slowly rose back up over the top of his own snow fort, just enough for his eyes to peek over. They regarded Reigen with a predatory gleam, and Reigen would have bet money that another snowball was being held out of sight just below. Reigen pasted on a smile and shuffled a bit closer to Serizawa, just in case.

“No, no, Mob. It’s fine,” he said, wiping the last of the snow from his face. “We just dropped by to bring your family some treats, didn’t mean to interrupt your epic snow battle.”

Serizawa stepped forward, clutching the cookie plate, looking back and forth between the two forts with eyes bright with interest.

“Were you having a snowball fight? Like on TV?”

Mob nodded, and tossed a snowball in demonstration. It flew about two meters before landing on the snow-covered lawn, breaking into pieces with a soft psh. 

Mob contemplated the location it had fallen, as though trying to understand where he’d gone wrong. Ritsu finally abandoned his post and stood up straight behind his snow fort. He walked to his brother, squeezing a snowball between his hands as he packed it tighter.

“I told you Nii-san, I think you’ll do better if you aim high up. Then your snowballs will at least go farther.” Ritsu tossed his snowball up and towards their own house in demonstration. It flew high, traveling much farther than Mob’s had. Mob nodded seriously, taking his brother’s advice as absolute fact.

Reigen saw an opportunity, and jumped on it before he could second-guess himself. 

“Ritsu’s right, Mob. Here, let me show you my special technique for throwing snowballs–”

Ritsu whipped toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, interesting. You want to try teaching my brother something else you know nothing about.”

“Hey, now,” Reigen said, hands flying up in a placating gesture. “I just think that, with my advanced knowledge of both natural and paranatural physics, I–” 

Ritsu’s second snowball hit him in the face.

Reigen spluttered loudly and indignantly, but he didn’t miss the quickly-smothered guffaw from his left. He also saw, as soon as he’d cleared enough of the snow to see, a spark of humor in Mob’s face, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in weeks - not since Dimple’s abrupt and mysterious disappearance.

A new idea formed swiftly. Reigen wanted to encourage this light-hearted mood of Mob’s, and if Serizawa’s attitude towards holiday activities thus far proved anything, he would have an absolute blast having a snowball fight.

Reigen glared huffily down at Ritsu, who was looking smug. 

“Oho, I see how it is. Young Ritsu, I do believe that was a challenge.” Reigen drew himself up to his full height. “What do you say–myself and Mob versus you and Serizawa for a snowball fight the likes of which you’ve never in your young life encountered? Unless, of course, you’re too timid?”

Fire flashed in Ritsu’s eyes. “I think that’s the most intelligent idea you’ve had yet, Reigen-san,” Ritsu said, too calmly. “Nii-san and I would love to participate.”

“Excellent. Um, and no psychic powers allowed,” Reigen added hastily, eyeing Ritsu’s expression. “With my skills, it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.”

Mob wandered bemusedly to Reigen’s side, clearly keen to join whatever Ritsu wanted to do. However, Serizawa hesitated.

“Reigen-san, you’re sure this isn’t too childish? What if a prospective client sees?”

“Come now, Serizawa, snowball fights are winter holiday tradition!” Reigen said firmly. “We must defend our honor! And we can’t disappoint the boys, can we?”

“Oh,” Serizawa said, his expression clearing as he nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I will do my best, Reigen-san.”

***

Reigen had miscalculated.

“Run, Mob! Run!” Reigen panted, legs flying as fast as they would go as he pelted down the Kageyama’s street. Mob ran beside him, panting a little but otherwise seeming far less concerned than Reigen thought was warranted. Of course, that might be because the barrage of snowballs being flung their way all seemed to be aimed at him.

He chanced a quick look behind him. Ritsu was only a dozen or so meters back, Serizawa keeping pace right beside him. They both had snowballs in hand and equally-determined looks on their faces.

Serizawa’s enthusiasm plus Ritsu’s teenage vindictiveness were, it seemed, a devastating combination. A snowball hit the street with a more solid sound than Reigen thought a snowball had any right to make, barely missing his own churning feet.

“Serizawa, you know this suit isn’t meant for running!”

“Then stop running and defend your honor, Reigen-san!”

Reigen managed to dig up more speed.

The Kageyama’s house rose before them; at some point, they must have turned back around. As if on cue, Mrs. Kageyama opened the door just as he was racing up to it.

“Ah, hello!” Reigen huffed as he darted in close to the doorway, too close for Ritsu and Serizawa to risk the civilian casualty. Mob followed, and Serizawa and Ritsu joined them a few feet from the doorway, both looking pleased as punch, snowballs mysteriously vanished.

“We… just came… to drop off… some cookies!” Reigen continued, between breaths. Serizawa nodded earnestly, the picture of a generous visitor, as the plate of cookies dropped into his hands from the air above them. Mrs. Kageyama didn’t bat an eye, clearly accustomed to random psychic phenomena occurring in her house.

“Oh, how kind of you!” She smiled warmly at them. “I know how much Shigeo looks up to you, Reigen-san, and Serizawa-san, he’s told us so much about you! I was just about to call the kids in for dinner, but there’s plenty if the two of you’d like to join us?”

“Oh! I, uh,” Reigen was at a loss for words for the second time that night at this offer. He found himself looking to Serizawa, whose broad grin had reappeared.

“We’d love to, thank you!” Serizawa said, taking Reigen’s look as an invitation to accept for the both of them.

Reigen found himself ushered in with the rest of the group, and before he knew it was seated at the kitchen table with the entire family. No probing looks on this visit; instead, Mrs. Kageyama cheerily questioned him about his business while Mr. Kageyama added more rice to his plate. Serizawa had managed to draw Mob into a conversation about his athletic club, complimenting him on his speed that day. Even Ritsu, who’d been studying his brother’s minutely-cheered expression, passed Reigen his silverware with something that was almost a smile.

Reigen started when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He twisted to see Serizawa offering him a chocolate-chip cookie, edges only a little too dark. 

“Thanks for coming with me today, Reigen-san. I – I can’t express my gratitude enough, on top of how you’ve helped me, giving me a job, and helping me with school and with getting used to interacting with other people…Especially,” he swallowed uncertainly. “Especially since I got the feeling you didn’t care much for the holidays…”

“Oh…it’s no problem Serizawa! Happy to help, of course!” Reigen took the cookie, waving a hand airily as Serizawa beamed at him before turning back to rejoin his conversation with Mr. Kageyama.

Reigen bit into the cookie, munching contemplatively. Not half bad, he thought, relaxing into the conversation and company, his concerns about the train schedule forgotten despite the snow softly piling up outside.

[chewing-onpearls]

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Lawn Bowls Attire Sports Factory gives an outstanding collection of sports apparel for children, this varies from tees and also hoodies to trousers and also leggings. Despite which sporting activity your youngster is associated with, anaconda constantly has the most effective sporting activities apparel for the most eye-catching rate. If you intend to watch several of our most recent bargains on sporting activities apparel, make certain to head over to the children sports apparel brochure for more information.

Lawn Bowls Clothes

Yes, the sportswear range at anaconda is designed with active women in mind and covers a wide variety of items ranging from sports bras right up to specialist compression wear. It also includes a huge collection of tees, tanks, hoodies, jackets, tights, shorts, pants and more, all specifically designed to keep you comfortable without restricting your movements. So, whether you are planning a session in the gym, a run, cycling, playing indoor or outdoor sports or just want to wear something relaxing at the weekend, check out the range of womens sportswear here at anaconda today to find your perfect clothes.

For More Details Contact Us at https://sportsfactory.com.au

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Lawn Bowls Uniforms

Custom Sportswear and Lawn Bowls Clothing

Lawn Bowls Clothes Sports Factory provides an incredible collection of sportswear for kids, this ranges from tees and hoodies to pants and tights. No matter which sport your little one is involved in, anaconda always has the best sports clothing for the most attractive price. If you want to view some of our latest deals on sports clothing, be sure to head over to the kids sportswear catalogue for more information.

Lawn Bowls Clothes

Yes, the sportswear range at anaconda is designed with active women in mind and covers a wide variety of items ranging from sports bras right up to specialist compression wear. It also includes a huge collection of tees, tanks, hoodies, jackets, tights, shorts, pants and more, all specifically designed to keep you comfortable without restricting your movements. So, whether you are planning a session in the gym, a run, cycling, playing indoor or outdoor sports or just want to wear something relaxing at the weekend, check out the range of womens sportswear here at anaconda today to find your perfect clothes.

For More Details Contact Us at https://sportsfactory.com.au

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Custom Sportswear & Lawn Bowls Attire

Custom Sportswear and Lawn Bowls Clothing

Lawn Bowls Clothing Sports Factory offers an incredible collection of sportswear for kids, this ranges from tees and hoodies to pants and tights. No matter which sport your child is involved in, anaconda always has the best sports clothes for the most attractive price. If you want to see some of our newest deals on sports clothes, be sure to head over to the kids sportswear catalogue to learn more.

Lawn Bowls Clothes

Yes, the sportswear range at anaconda is developed with active women in mind and covers a wide range of items ranging from sports bras right up to specialist compression wear. It also includes a big collection of tees, tanks, hoodies, jackets, tights, shorts, pants and more, all specifically developed to keep you comfortable without restricting your movements. So, whether you are planning a session in the gym, a run, cycling, playing indoor or outdoor sports or just want to wear something relaxing at the weekend, have a look at the range of womens sportswear here at anaconda today to find your ideal clothes.

For More Details Contact Us at https://sportsfactory.com.au

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Australian made Custom Sportswear & Lawn Bowls Clothing

Custom Sportswear and Lawn Bowls Clothing

Lawn Bowls Attire Invite to the Sports Factory. We are your no. 1 location for grass bowls tools and also sportswear in australia. We are proud to equip a variety of excellent quality items, consisting of apparel, shoes, tools, bowls, bags, actions and also even more-- all from the globe's leading brand names. We have actually obtained wonderful rates on thousands of basics from taylor, aero, henselite, drakes satisfaction, seeker, avalon, ambak, greenmaster, domino bowlswear, bms and also much more. Unlike various other grass bowls stores, we provide wonderful client service over the phone and also by e-mail, along with cost effective delivery, so you can feel great you're making the appropriate selection.

Lawn Bowls Clothes

The sporting activities manufacturing facility are suppliers of top quality australian made grass bowls attires and also grass bowls garments, we have actually been providing qualified grass bowls garments & grass bowls bags to clubs and also colleges given that 1973. All our grass bowls t shirts, shorts, pants, vests & coats are 100% australian made and also due to the fact that we make all our bowls apparel in your area right here in sydney, we can provide for all your grass bowls clothing demands from all sizing issues to personalized bowls consistent layouts. For More Details Contact Us at https://sportsfactory.com.au/

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