#John Dory becoming like their second parents.

[wooziswonderfulworld]

But what if Bro Zone had successfully hit the perfect family harmony all those years ago?

Here’s my take on it:

Bro Zone: A band of 5 brothers ranging from the ages 18 to 5 years old, They where already the biggest music act in their village only having been together for about 2 years

At a time when the trolls biggest threat was Troll eating creatures called Bergens, which made them live in constant fear, Bro Zone brought a sense of relief and happiness, with their music and dynamic. In a way, Bro Zone was what kept most of their village from going grey

“When you’re people main source of happiness, there’s no room for mistakes” Their manager said to John Dory as the discussed future plans

“No room for mistakes” He would quietly mutter to himself throughout the days

“We would all be grey without you guys!”

“Listening to your music distracts me from thinking about Trollstice!”

“You guys are perfect!”

While the other brothers just took the comments as light compliments, John Dory took them more seriously

“Spruce! 100 more sit ups”

“Clay! Tell us a joke!”

“Floyd! Why do you look mad? You’re not the “mad one”

If he pushed them hard enough, then they would be Perfect.

Trollstice was only a couple months away, the brothers may have been “celebrities” but that didn’t mean the Bergens would spare them, in fact they might’ve been more eager to capture them, and eating the pop trolls most loved members, aside from their royalty

Which is why John Dory had an…idea

“TOUR?” Spruce asked baffled “Now??”

John Dory nodded “it couldn’t hurt, I mean, spreading our music further out in the world! Exploring new places like Um-mount rageous!” He said pointing to the map he had

“John-Performing at mount rageous would be IMPOSSIBLE” Soruce stressed “they’re like, giants that would easily crush us!”

“It was just a suggestion! If anything we’ll just go to other pop villages”

“Oh like, Timbre?” Floyd asked looking up fr his spot “my friend lives over there”

John Dory nodded “why is this one marked?” Branch asked pointing to the village named “Fugue”

The brothers glanced at each other, how does one explain to their 5 year old brother that the village no longer exists as the trolls that once lived there had either completely left or all been eaten “it a Um…”

“Old village! Yeah John’s map is a little out dated, silly John Dory!” Clay jumped in with a grin, Branch seemed to except that answer

“Why all of a sudden? You’ve always been content with performing in our village” Clay asked as Branch went to play “Well, with Trollstice coming”

Floyd covered his ears, he hated talking about Trollstice, they all did, but Floyd could never bare the hear that dreaded word

“I couldn’t help but think, what if one of us is next”

“JOHN!” Spruce snapped as Floyd looked like he would cry “IM SORRY! But it’s true okay?? and if it’s-god forbid-any one of us, then I at least want our names to be known by more trolls outside of our own village! This might be the only chance we get to go on a tour!”

His brothers where silent for a moment thinking

“Okay.”

The past couple of days leading up to the tour had been hectic, the brothers where already stressed, John had been pushing them even harder

Then he made a promise

He promised they would do something no one could ever achieve

The perfect family harmony

Right there, in their home village, the very first show they would achieve the impossible

“ARE YOU CRAZY!?” Spruce shouted “The perfect family harmony?? That’s impossible!”

“It’s not and we can prove it!” John Dory argued back “we just need to practice!”

“And how will anyone know we even hit it? We could use special effects” Clay asked, John Dory pulled something from his hair

A Diamond

“King Peppy gave it to me” John Dory said, Clay rolled his eyes “that’s fake” He concluded, grabbing it and smashing it on the ground

Or attempted too

Because it didn’t shatter, or crack, or anything

Clay picked it up and chucked it at the wall, nothing, accept a dent in their wall

“Huh-I guess it is real”

John Dory rolled his eyes snatching it back with a mutter of “give me that” before tucking it back in his hair.

The days after John Dory made that promise to their fans, he’d become more and more strict when it came to their practices, everything had to be PERFECT

Unfortunately that just made the others (save for Branch) less eager to try

“John Dory, honey” Grandma Rosie Puff said motioning for him to sit with her at the table

“I know you’re eager to want to hit the perfect family harmony, but you’ll never succeed if you keep pushing your brothers away”

John Dory frowned, pushing his brothers away? He wasn’t pushing them away??

He looked at his grandma “what do you mean?”

Rosie Puff smiled “you keep pushing them and criticizing them ever since you made that promise but the more you push the further they’ll go, and soon you all won’t be in harmony”

John Dory sat silently thinking about his grandma’s words.

After that conversation, John Dory was better, his brothers began enjoying practicing, they had fun together.

The day of the concert came, the trolls had all been talking about the perfect family harmony, some even doubted they could do it, actually most doubted they could do it

Bro Zone where on stage, this was it

“ And it’s so perfect perfect perfect “

Colors surrounded the brothers as they sang and dance together, it was working! They couldn’t mess this up

“You’ll never ever wanna let it go”

The brothers harmonized together, in front of them, the Diamond placed in the stage had began to crack more and more

“Perfect Perfect Perfect”

The Diamond shattered, sending a wave throughout the crowd

They’d done it

They actually did it

The crowd cheered and went crazy

The news spread quickly and Bro Zone went from being a local band to be known world wide

Everyone knew about the brother band that successfully shattered Diamond

The brothers held concerts for crowds bigger then they ever dreamed, they where world famous

They where also heavily protected, by order of the king, they could risk their biggest source of happiness being eaten, so they where moved from their pod somewhere safer

Body guards accompanied them everywhere

During Trollstice they where conveniently sent away

Everytime they came back after Trollstice, they noticed more empty pods. Some trolls didn’t understand why they got extra protection, but when the brothers returned, the trolls seemed happier.

This was the common routine, Make trolls happy and stop them from going grey.

This was their purpose, no matter how far the ventured, them being a band kept their village alive and happy

This would be their lives, they couldn’t disband, not now.

Not with all the trolls that relied on them

Not with the king implementing special protection amongst them

Not with their promise to never leave forever.

Shattering that Diamond was only the beginning,

But it led them becoming so much more then just some boy band

They where Bro Zone, and no matter how tired they become of the boy band look, they couldn’t walk away.

Sometimes, just sometimes, They wished that perfect family harmony hadn’t worked all those years ago

#trolls band together #john dory #trolls clay #trolls spruce #trolls floyd #trolls branch #branch didn’t really get a childhood being in the band #but his brothers did their best #John Dory becoming like their second parents. #especially with all the traveling

[poproccks]

John Dory Headcannons!

★ Glove is a compression glove for an old injury; a major burn scar that lines his fingers, palm, and paw pads on his left hand. (Inspired by @teaOwOstache’s comic – I am currently writing a one-shot for them based on their amazing comic.)

★ Has about an inch of white hair from the sheer power of Crimp’s vacuum. I, personally, believe that the vacuum’s power accelerated the talent-leaching tremendously and caused physical effects to show sooner. (Also shown on Bruce and Clay)

★ Various scars from his years of camping, foraging, cooking, hunting, and other things related to the nomad life.

★ He is the third tallest of his brothers, being almost the same height as Bruce. Second shortest of Brozone.

★ He was left-handed before the burn incident – and had to reteach himself how to write with his right hand instead since his left hand shakes too badly to write properly now. His handwriting, while improved, still isn't as good as it used to be.

★ Has nightmares occasionally like Branch. I like to imagine they bond slightly over that fact once they do get closer – obviously, it's still nothing like Branch’s and Floyd's relationship.

★ Building off the last point, JD tries not to feel too bitter about the close relationship they have. He realizes that the fractured relationships he has with all of his brothers are his own doing. He’s doing his best to get to know them all now and learn about their interests and hobbies. JD still walks on eggshells around them all about 60% of the time after a few more major blow ups between them. He is John Dory, however, so he still crosses lines many times by accident.

★ Thickest and fluffiest tail of Brozone (more of a general HC but, tail hair/fur can move like Troll head hair/fur.)

★ Very active, and regularly takes walks, runs, etc around Pop Village to keep up his fitness.

★ Found Rhonda when he was in his early 20’s and she was a much smaller bug bus. (Inspired by @ohposhers) She grew rather quickly after that and they became inseparable. John Dory handles all of her repairs and anything to do with her healthcare. He becomes very anxious when he has to pass that responsibility to anyone else. Branch took care of an ailing Rhonda once because he was the only one in the village with the needed materials and ingredients for the medicine. (“Who's crazy now? Me. Crazy prepared,) The dull-toned troll basically had to beat John off with a stick to get him to listen/let him help the poor bus, basically like a Helicopter parent. I genuinely believe without her, John Dory would absolutely crumble. Troll dust.

★ Stay’s in Branch’s bunker the most of the four others, besides Floyd who decided to move to Pop Village. When he’s feeling especially bad or wants to be alone, he will still retreat into Rhonda. She is basically an oversized security blanket.

★ Smells like either dust, fresh dirt, or rain. Definitely smells like something naturey. Branch smells like things similar, but it’s noticeably different.

★ Usually ALWAYS has something stuck in his hair or tail, no matter how small. Dust bunnies from exploring or helping clean, leaves, branches (ha), and other miscellaneous things.

★ Usually has the following in his hair pocket dimension; 2-3 bandaids, an extra glove, chapstick that he always loses, granola bars, and a small thing of water; just in case. Oh, and treats for Rhonda.

★ Carries an old family photo of his brothers and Grandma Rosiepuff from right after Branch hatched. His parents were also in it, but have long been torn out.

★ His goggles, past and present, were from his father (Also inspired by @teaOwOstache) and so he takes begrudgingly good and meticulous care of them.

★ Definitely a victim of parentification/older sibling syndrome. (I’m not projecting, you are.)

★ The order of brothers he bonds or reconnects with the easiest to hardest; Floyd, Bruce, Clay, Branch.

★ Suffers from aches and pains when it's cold or rainy out. He refuses to admit it is because of age.

★ Self soothes by pulling at his jacket, running his fingers along the zipper teeth, or adjusting his goggles when anxious.

★ If he doesn’t want to make eye contact or is crying or about to, he’ll pull his goggles on. It’s easier to hide than to explain. He gets better about talking about it but emotions are always a sore subject and difficult for him.

★ Like most Trolls, John Dory can hiss, growl, and purr.

★ Dark blue paw pads, with blunt nails with chipped polish.

★ When he went back to the troll tree pod, after mourning what could have been, he collected mementos of his brothers and his grandma; Branch’s old baby blanket, Floyd’s old plushie, Bruce’s old hoodie, One of Clay’s old books and a blacket Rosiepuff knitted long ago. They’re hidden in a box on Rhonda.

#go follow teaowostache they inspire me sm #and ohposhers #this list is not exhaustive #I will add more #the old one | 🥽 #trolls john dory #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #john dory trolls #trolls 3 #trolls

[fanficsdumpomg]

John Dory Boyfriend Headcannons

*John Dory and y'all met during his brozone days, you were in a band that frequently opened for them. You both met during an afterparty and you hit it off.

*John Dory and you would constantly spend time after shows, you got closer to his brothers during this time as well and became like a big sister to baby Branch. However, as much as you cared about John Dory you never wanted to take your relationship to the next level for fear of crazy fans.

*Your relationship came to a head after the big brozone concert where John had wanted to perfect the perfect family harmony, you didn't hear from him after the show so you went back to his family's pod to discover they had all quit the band and left baby branch alone.

*Feeling angered and Sad at JD's disappearance and leaving his brother behind you decided to help Rosiepuff take care of Baby Branch. After Rosiepuff's death, you however became like a parent to to branch.

*In the years that followed Branch had grown out of his shell and met his bff now girlfriend Poppy who helped him become a better person. You couldn't be more proud of him but where did this leave you? You spent so long taking care of him what were you going to do now?

*These feelings continued to build but you pushed it down with hobbies, these feelings exploded however on the day of Bridget and Gristle's wedding an unexpected guest appeared.

*JD was back and you were pissed not only for leaving you without a single word but only now showing up when he needed something from his brother.

"Y/N, I'm sorry...I was so young and angry I didn't give anything else a second thought but I have never stopped loving you."

*You didn't accept his apology and wanted nothing more to do with him but when Branch had agreed to go on the rescue mission to save Floyd you immediately wanted to go feeling that motherly instinct to protect Branch Arrise again. Also, you could take care of cute little Tiny diamond who had managed to sneak his way on Rhonda so this was a win-win for you.

*Getting in Rhonda, y'all set off to find Spruce and came across Vacay Isle; where a spruce turned Bruce now worked with his wife and family. After some convincing you guys managed to get Bruce to come along but not before performing to show/prove to his kids that yes, he was in a band.

*During the performance you were glad to see how happy Branch was with his brothers again and when he pulled Poppy on stage, John Dory pulled you up on stage as well where y'all performed the last verse of the song.

"I forgot how fun it was to perform with everyone... especially you <3."

*Okay, JD still has the band charm you see; but it will not work on you you tell yourself no matter how much you blush.

*Moving on with Bruce, you were well on your way to collect Clay and on the way over you were finally civil enough that you and JD could have a talk about what the two of you had been doing the last 15+ years. You told John all about how you cared for Branch at that time (which John thanked you for) and John Dory talked about his time hiking the Neverglade trail.

"Sounds...interesting to say the least, you'll have to bring me on your next adventure JD." you said smiling resting a hand on his.

*You had finally reached Clay after Branch's brilliant yet gross plan to have Rhonda track Clay with his old Funder Underwear.

*Arriving at the abandoned gold course you meet Clay and Viva the leader of the putt-putt trolls and as it would turn out Poppy's long-lost sister.

*After Viva and Poppy went off to reconnect, Clay informed you of her tragic backstory on how she was separated from King Peppy and Poppy during the night of the troll escape. Clay also let you know that Viva is very protective over the trolls she protects here so unfortunately you would have to leave Poppy behind if you all wanted to get a move on to get to MT. Rageous.

*Unfortunately, Viva did discover y'all as you were about to leave and shut the gates effectively trapping you inside. You were however able to escape with Poppy due to Clay opening the gate again but left behind a broken-hearted Viva.

*Now you were on you were way to Mt. Rageous and the gang + poppy decided to have a little practice session which in your opinion was going very well until John Dory stopped it claiming it wasn't perfect enough. Feeling frustrated everyone lashed out and him especially Branch who was disappointed when he learned that his brothers planned to split up once again after they saved Floyd. He stormed out of Rhonda with a distraught Poppy following behind him

*You were incredibly angry not Just at John Dory this time but at the rest of them, how could they be so insensitive towards their little brother.

"You know what John Dory, you have hurt your little brother and me for the last time. You better hope when we get to MT. Rageous that he is okay 'cause I will end you!" And with that, you stormed off towards the back of Rhonda.

*And you stayed at the back of Rhonda till MT. Rageous where you were kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer. Velvet and Veneer had no use for you so they threw you for draining purposes but Velvet thought it might be cute to use you as a little good luck charm and captured you in one of her diamond earrings. Poppy and Branch confronted the two of them at the entrance to the rage dome and outed them as liars/frauds which prompted their roadshow in their car.

*Horrified you watched the brothers get drained as Branch, Poppy, and Tiny Diamond raced to save you on the MT. Rageous freeway. They eventually got aided by Bridget, Gristle, and Viva and managed to corner the Popstars on a boat.

*The fight was tough and they managed to free John Dory, Clay, Bruce, and You but not Floyd. And in one last attempt, the seven of you performed hoping to achieve the perfect family harmony. It worked and you were able to save Floyd at last, shattering the diamond prisons that trapped both you and the brothers.

"John Dory...getting kidnapped made me realize that I have never stopped loving you no matter how big-headed and stupid you are. The time we spent together these last few days has made me realize that you are still the silly goofy boy I fell in love with all those years ago." You said smiling.

"I love you too, Y/N!" he shouted with a grin pulling you into a kiss.

#trolls x reader #trolls john dory #trolls john dory x reader

[valsnonsense]

Prince Viper

“WHAT’S UP PARTY TROOOOLLS!!! ARE YOU READY TO DANCE TILL YOU DROP!?”

Parents: Prince Riff and Councilman Synth

Siblings: Hatchet (Older Brother), Lantern (Younger Sibling)

Age: 19

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual

Genre: Techno, EDM

Voice Claim: Jacob Taio Cruz

The second son of Prince Riff and Councilman Synth, and one of the most wild party animals ever seen. Loud, excitable, with boundless amounts of energy, Viper is always out partying, dancing the night away and performing for the masses.

Viper works as a DJ, hosting raves all over Trollstopia and beyond. King Trollex was a big inspiration for him, and always dreamed of being able to host parties like he does. When he gifted his first mixboard at ten, Viper set out to become the best DJ the world had ever seen, and he’s quite successful in that regard. The Techno Trolls even refer to him as the “Phantom Prince of Techno”, since he’s so good at it.

When he isn’t partying, practicing, or planning his next rave, Viper can be found resting at home. He doesn’t chill out often since he’s such a social butterfly, but when he does, he’ll help around the house or hang out with his parents. He occasionally will go out swimming in Techno Lagoon, just for swimming’s sake.

Viper is a Techno troll through and through, with a splash of EDM in there for fun. He loves how loud it is, how scattered it is, and how he can mix it up to make it sound however he wants it to. Ever since he saw Synth perform at a rave in Techno Lagoon, and later on King Trollex in Techno Reef, Viper fell in love with the sound.

Despite how social he is, Viper is very close with his family. He won’t ever admit it, but he cried a lot when Hatchet moved out. He’s very close with his sibling, Lantern, and the two can be found brainstorming new songs together on his off days.

Viper currently resides in Trollstopia, but can be found frequently in Techno Reef.

Fun Facts!

- Viper is super close with Finley, son of King Trollex and John Dory. With Trollex and Synth being good friends, the two grew up knowing each other well. Viper has attempted to help Finley understand Techno music, but to no avail. He does his best to support the young troll, hating to see how lost he is music wise. He’ll sometimes play slower, softer songs to make him feel better

- Viper has a unique ability compared to his siblings, as he’s actually bioluminescent. When deep underwater, several patterns on his skin will begin to glow brightly. He even has this weird ability to make his skin a bit translucent, showing off his internal organs. He doesn’t do this often though, since it takes a lot of energy

- Opposite to Hatchet, Viper hates heat, the sun, sand, all the desert stuff. His body was built more Techno, making him more adapt to watery, cooler environments. Whenever he visits Hatchet in Lonesome Flats, he’s always got a huge water bottle on him that he dumps over himself every hour or so

And that’s Viper! Wanted to make an absolute party animal, and Viper was the candidate! He actually has an important role story-wise, especially regarding Finley, my Trollx/JD baby, but it’ll be revealed later on~

Voice Example: Dynamite (Taio Cruz)

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls oc #trolls the depths au #rynth #trolls rynth #myart #digital art #trolls viper #crazy baby #absolute madlad #can’t sit still for two seconds this one #I love him for that tho #Spotify

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

Sticks and stones

Part 2/?

Trolls Au fic

The mysterious troll turns out to me more than just any troll

1512 words

Warnings: dad giving excuses, family trauma, limb severing, speaking of trauma, and mild kidnapping

A/N: Once again, please don't be mad. It's only broppy, but also there's plenty of characters in future chapters. Also I realize that it's becoming more and more like the series characters as opposed to the movies, but it's still a fun read I think!

The room was tense as Branch finished explaining to his present brothers what was happening. Clay was the first to speak up. “Wait huh? Our dad? Barry?”

Floyd frowned softly. “There’s no way, where’s mom? Is she okay?”

“I hate to say it, but this makes sense. He hears we’re all in one place and runs back to us as if nothing happened.” Bruce proclaims, leaning back. Branch sighed, looking for his John. John Dory stood by the door their dad was resting in, seeming nearly empty.

“John,” Branch called out, walking toward him. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” His voice lowered and he lowered his head taking a deep breath. “If he had just been here, maybe I wouldn’t have run away from you guys, maybe I could have taken better care of you guys, maybe Grandma wouldn’t have died. I just-“ He exhaled sharply.

Branch placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re here if you need us. If you can’t go in, it's fine.” He squeezed his shoulder. John smiled down at him reassuringly.

“I’m glad you think so.” John said. Patting Branch’s hand. Branch turned to look at the others, their faces differing in discomfort and anguish.

Poppy walked up to Branch. No longer rocking her big queen gown “How are you feeling Branchifer?” She asked.

Branch looked at her. His eyes wide and his lips pursed, he sighed heavily. “I don’t know actually, I never met the troll, if he’s anything like John I’m not going to be surprised, but even then, he’s someone completely new.” Branch leaned into poppy slightly, yearning for her presence.

She leans her head on his grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “He seems fun, from…the few seconds I did see him,” Branch laughed. Ruffling her hair lovingly. He walks back to his brothers.

Clay shook his head, “can’t believe dad’s even alive. I thought he was a goner as soon as he stepped out of that pod. He leaned forward onto his knees, tapping his foot anxiously.

Bruce “no doubt he’s here for a reason, good or otherwise, he’s similar to John in that aspect.” John glared at Clay for a moment. Then turned back to the door. He had no energy to fight.

Floyd stayed quiet, he knew the least about their parents, he wouldn’t be any help. He did feel the temperature rise in the room and stood up. “Guys. This is new territory for all of us. Let's try not to take it out on eachother.” He said, watching as JD finally took his seat.

Clay nodded. “Yes, you’re right Floyd let’s keep a nice and calm…attitude about this, How about we talk about our feelings yeah?” He said, trying to sound genuine but, it’s not coming off like it.

Bruce groaned. “Yeah… no, I have a family to take care of so…bye.” He stands up, turning around, and leaving. The others simply deflate.

Poppy looked at Branch. “He can’t be that bad right?” She tried making light of the situation, but JD popped in.

“No, he’s worse, he’s a coward, a deadbeat who runs from his problems.” He huffed. Shaking his head. Silence followed, and Clay snorted softly. “So, You?” He mumbled. Floyd slapped his arm, Branch grimaced. JD clenched his fists on his lap.

The door slowly opened revealing the blue haired Troll. “That is no way to talk about your father! Young men.” He said in a groggy voice, his eye bruised but he’s otherwise fine.

Poppy reveled at the crime she committed instantly trying to apologize but Branch stops her. “Good, now that you're awake, we have questions.”

Floyd stood up first. “Where’s mom?”

Then Clay “why now, did you come back?”

Finally JD “why’d you come back? To ruin pir lives some more?

Barry put his hands up “woah woah one at a time, but this’ll answer all of your questions I promise, so sit down.” He demanded, but none of them sat. So he just shook his head and began.

“After we left the troll tree we were walking for miles, and miles, and miles up until the third moon, where we had to rest. We rested for a good long while, say about: 3 months? Yeah, but that place got raided by ear worms so we had to move and keep moving. Until we found a tree similar to the troll tree. So we set up shop there. It was here we thought we found the perfect place for you boys. Big, and perfect just for you, and we planned to go back! But…those plans changed when we had another egg.”

“HUH?” The room erupted.

“What do you mean by another egg?” Branch called out, stepping closer

“You gotta stop asking that question, Bitty B.” Barry rubbed his temples in distress. “I mean what I say.”

Branch pointed at him harshly. “You don’t get to call me that.” He growled.

“…right…moving on!” He clapped his hands to continue the story.

“The egg was small, and it took a while to hatch, so we thought it’d be a bigger troll? But, when she came out she was teensy tiny, itty bitty, and adorable. you would’ve loved her. Anyway, after having her, your mom became paranoid about being stuck in the wilderness with a child. She was going nuts about it! For so long that I eventually just gave in and we decided that we had to stay. We stayed for most of our time away, maybe half a decade. Until eventually, there was an attack.”

Floyd gasped dramatically “was it a Bergen?”

Barry groaned. “No, can I just tell the story?”

“Sorry.” Floyd breathed out softly.

“It was…a bird attack! One of those huge black birds.we barely escaped with our lives. But your sister lost a leg, and that’s when your mother lost it entirely. She took her and stole a funk tribe ship, stealing it away to makeTwig a safe home. She’s been staying there ever since.”

“And that’s why I Need your help. I've been trying to save her myself, but she always stumps me.” Barry said, running a hand through his hair. Tapping his foot and wringing his hands. “I-im sorry I left. Alright?”

JD stood up. “Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to cut it. You think you can tell us some sob story then send us on some quest to save our sister? It doesn’t work like that.” He huffed through his nose. Floyd put a hand out toward him to comfort him but he dodged it.

Clay rolled his eyes. “You act like you didn’t do that to us half a year ago.”

John fumed. Glaring at Clay. “Alright I get it! Okay, but at least you all Knew who Floyd was, is! For all we care, this “Twig”. could just be a Twig!” He slowly turned to Glare at Barry.

Branch stepped forward. “I think that we should talk about this like civil adults.”

Floyd nods in agreement, but JD shakes his head, grabbing his shoulders to pull him closer “You are not my dad. You threw that title away when you walked away from me.” He teared up clenching his fists harder. “I’ll be outside.” He said before leaving the room.

Branch, Floyd, and Clay looked at one another. Floyd hugging himself and Clay laughing softly, as insanity gripped his brain. “I have to talk to Viva. I don’t have time for this.” He got up and walked away. Floyd frowned. “Yeah, no, sorry dad but I just- I’m sorry.” He walked after Clay.

Barry threw his hands up. Walking up to branch “desperate times call for desperate measures” he slowly went down to the floor. “PLEASE. I HAVE TO SAVE MY LITTLE GIRL.” He cried softly, lowering his head into the floor, Branch rolled his eyes.

Branch looked down at his father on his hands and knees. “Alright…. Alright alright. Get up,” Barry got up, his eyes watering right at the corners. “I am happy to see you again, but I don’t think I-“ Poppy yanked him back.

Poppy shook him violently “you should go!” She whispered excitedly. A grin on her face.

Branch shook his head, “Poppy…I thought you said we were taking a break from…adventuring.” He grinned awkwardly and Poppy gripped his shoulders harder.

“Branch, you have a chance to complete your family tree! I wish I had that chance with my mom, but you know she died early in my childhood. Take that chance!”

Branch cringed. About to say no, but Poppy’s big beautiful eyes make him reconsider. “Okay, but only if you come with me.” Poppy grinned.

“Always.”

Barry cheered from a distance. “Alright then! Should we go?”

Barry began walking to the door, Branch reluctantly tagged along, Poppy right beside him, the whole way.

As sun bathed their faces in golden rays, John Dory was standing by in silence. Leaning against the rock behind Branch’s bunker. His eyes narrowed when Poppy waved goodbye to him. He decided to follow them.

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#fanfiction #trolls #trolls band together #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #trolls fanfiction #trolls franchise #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #trolls branch #trolls 1 #trolls brozone #trolls john dory #john dory trolls #john dory #broppy #branch x poppy #troll oc #oc #ocs #troll ocs #oc fanfiction #dreamworks fanfiction #dreamworks animation

[evita-shelby]

No one but you

Part 2

Prev

(More like a lil epilogue for Diane and Buck)

Cw: some smut, infertility issues

She knows of his return even before he arrives in English soil.

Diane is giddy, jumping from excitement as she readies the baby for the train ride from Birmingham to Thorpe Abbotts.

John Egan Cleven is seven months old with fine blonde hair like his father’s and his left blue eye just like his as well. He is like a cherub come to life especially in his new little clothes made for when he meets his father today.

She is greeted as Mrs. Cleven at the gate of the base and Lady Di by everyone there who met her. Most of the soldiers are new, everyone she had met during her short time here was dead or captured.

It is bittersweet, so many here were anxious to see their sweethearts return from the air and some foolishly hoping they are alive still. Diane is amongst the lucky ones who have their loves returned.

And because everyone knows who Gale Cleven is, little John Cleven is immediately christened as Baby Buck.

“How do you know he’s coming?” Helen asks as she steals away when Diane sees her with the excuse of meeting the baby. The last time they’d seen each other they had comforted each other for their losses, Herbert Nash had died while Gale was captured.

“Last letter I had from him hinted at a possible escape and then the cards confirmed it.” Di lies a little because the part where they coordinated his escape can only be revealed when the war is over, or they are dead.

And sure enough, Gale arrives in a fort wearing only the clothes on his back and sporting scars on his cheeks.

“I told you; I’d come back, I always do.” he hugs them tightly as if he feared they weren’t real.

He is crying, she is as well from the overwhelming joy and sadness and relief that their separation is over.

“I don’t want you to leave me ever again.” The witch says knowing his promise is a lie.

He is a soldier, there will always be another war that takes her from him.

Despite having missed the first six months of his son’s life, it is as if Buck was never gone.

Diane does not mind living simpler than she was raised on, even before the war she would join her relatives or the Lees on their travels in her modest yellow vardo.

Life in Wyoming is quiet, a nice change of pace after living at the edge of her seat at home. Gale went back to university and she takes up classes although she had no intention of ever finishing the finance courses she purposely dropped out of at Oxford.

“I want to have another baby with you.” Gale says in between kisses as they make love on the night of his graduation. “A girl, with your brown hair and charm.”

He has ambition and genius in spades, he’s been accepted to Harvard and they’ll be moving there until he earns his doctorate in Business. He wants to be a good husband and father too and Bucky having his own little girl put him in such a mood that Di finds herself infected with baby fever as well.

Gale’s insatiable, craving to fill her with his cum any moment they have alone together. Such a generous lover that Diane cannot find a reason to deny him.

“About time, isn’t it, love?” she agrees and hopes for a little girl like the one he dreams of.

It shouldn’t be difficult, little Bucky was conceived on the first and only time Buck had finished inside her during their affair.

And yet months pass by without success, even the cards do not show a new baby anywhere in them.

“Just gotta try harder, don’t we.” He whispers as he fucks his cum back into her. Buck doesn’t give up hope as easily as she does and that keeps the sex from feeling like a chore.

Her parents had taken two years to conceive Charlie and Gale’s family wasn’t known for its size either, his sister ,Doris, had struggled conceiving and had given up hopes of having a second baby after her son was born. It could take longer than they had hoped for, if it ever happened at all.

But it does. Right when Gale Cleven becomes Doctor Gale Cleven in 1950, Diane finds herself pregnant with Elizabeth Gale Cleven, a brown haired little girl with her father’s eyes. To be named for her mother and father, same father who will return to war soon after.

“I don’t want you to leave me ever again.” Di whispers that night before he leaves for Korea.

“I’ll come back, I always do.” He promises like he always did back then.

And he does, every time.

#diane shelby #gale cleven #buck cleven #buck cleven x oc #gale cleven x oc #mota fanfic #mota oc #masters of the air fanfiction

[blazlngblade]

Yesterday was a busy day for me! I worked and completed both Cornelia's and Therese's Traveler Stories!

I don't have anything too big to say about these stories. But I'll share some small thoughts on them. Cornelia's Traveler Story kind of confuses me. It's not that it's bad or anything, but it's full of misunderstandings from everyone. Nobody really gets what people are wanting or saying and they tend to twist things up a lot. The mayor wants Cornelia to be the community apothecary in Flamesgrace, and he does say it straight up, but John, the mayor's servant, in his house took it as he wants Cornelia as his personal apothecary. He then tries to poison the mayor because of this. John lost his parents, who were also servants to the mayor, to a sickness because there was no community apothecary. But, even if the mayor did have an personal apothecary, that would have included his parents to be cured. So it's not really the mayor's fault, but the fact there was no personal or community apothecary. The revenge plot is unneeded, since all people needed to do was talk, especially since all this info just comes out of nowhere. It's just kinda weird to me. It needs a pretty heavy rewrite to be better, it has potential, but it's messy.

Now for Therese's Traveler Story. Her story is pretty cute. She's just a young girl living her life as a noble daughter. At some point she's met a peasant girl and became friends with her. Doris and Therese are very close despite the differing status. When the story begins, we are told that Therese and Doris only have a short time left with each other. as Therese is going to be sent to a monastery to become a cleric of the Sacred Flame. She's unsure if that's what she wants to do, but she wants to do anything to please her family. Therese's family, House Chamotes, has a custom to give a necklace to someone they are close too. Which likely would be something she should give to someone she wants as a potential partner, but this is a 14 year old girl, she doesn't understand that yet. She gives the necklace to her best friend and it causes a bit of problems for the two. House Chamotes is the second in line for the kingdom of Wold's throne (obviously the first is Osred II, the current king's daughter Princess Mary, whom Therese is a cousin too), so she makes sense to be a high consideration for the problems that Therese and Doris face. By kidnapping Therese Chamotes, you can ask for a heavy ransom because of her standing. Kidnappings are common in Theatropolis, and they mistake Doris as Therese because of the necklace. Therese goes on a mission to rescue her best friend from the kidnappers since she feels responsible as to why the kidnapping happened at all. This explains why she's good at doing so in the Switch game when she manages to track down Cyrus' location. She's already had talent at being a detective and hunting down clues to find people.

It obviously ends with Therese realizing that she doesn't want to become a cleric, but a scholar instead, so she is enrolled in the Royal Academy of Atlasdam. My main issue with Therese's Traveler Story, is the focus on Doris is a bit too much. Plus, the ending is a little awkward since most characters have to ask the Traveler you are playing as if they "can travel with you?". It makes little sense for Therese because she's only 14 years old, she shouldn't be traveling at all. Unlike Heathcote who smoothly came to this decision, it doesn't work the same for Therese.

Anyways, those are my thoughts about the stories I have read. I hope you look forward to seeing them!

#Octopath Traveler #Octopath CotC #Octopath Cornelia #Octopath Therese #Rosa Talks

[packedwithpackards]

Chapter XII: Cyrus, Dora, and the last of the Packards

In April 1878, the life of 26-year-old Plainfield-born man, Cyrus Winfield Packard, less than 10 years before his father, William H., would die, would change. Recently requested photocopies of Cyrus’s marriage records from the Massachusetts State Archives indicate that Cyrus was a farmer living in Cummington, Massachusetts, a town of Hampshire County, marrying a 15- or 16- year old woman named Nellie Mason. [265] Nellie, born in August 1861, was the daughter of Eurotas/Erastus Mason and his wife Jane, had lived in the town of Cummington for her whole life. The following year, the newlyweds were living in Easthampton, Massachusetts, within the same county. Cyrus as a farmhand and Nellie, taking the last name of Packard, as a servant for the Penderwood family. [266] At some point, Cyrus and Nellie decided to have a baby. Less than nine months later, on February 13, Nellie would die at the tender age of 19, from German measles and typhoid fever, while giving childbirth. [267] With the death of Nellie, Cyrus moved on, leaving her in the dust.

On November 21, two months after purchasing 112 acres in Plainfield from William L. Packard and gaining the farm in Plainfield with a stand of maple sugar trees, he married again, like many Packards before him. This was to a woman named Dorothy “Dora” (or Dory) Ann Mills in Glens Falls, New York, the town in which she was born.

Dora, who worked in a shirt factory (1880) and as a teacher (1870) in the past, had lived in Warren County, New York since June 1, 1849, when she was born, approximately. [268] While her gravestone says she was 38 years, 10 months old at the time of her death, the 1850 and 1860 U.S. Federal Censuses show a woman named “Dorothy A. Mills” or “Dory Mills” as born in 1849 or 1850. The reasons for why she would say she was younger than she actually was are not currently known. [269] Dora was the daughter of John Rand Mills and Margaret Bibby and had six living siblings by 1881, living in Chester, Bolton, Glens Falls, within Warren County, New York. [270] Dora’s parents are worth noting. John Rand Mills, born in Ireland, in Sept. 1804, immigrated to the United States by 1830, marrying Margaret Ann Bibby, born in the same part of Ireland.

Over the following years, Dora and Cyrus had seven children with the last name of Packard. They include John Henry (Oct. 15-1882-Oct. 28, 1950), Margaret Alice (Jan. 27, 1884-Aug. 4, 1976), Joseph Winfield (Jun. 17, 1885- Mar. 9, 1910), Charles Edward (May 5, 1887-Nov. 4, 1960) or “Uncle Charlie,” Marion Estelle (Feb. 12, 1889-Jun. 13, 1965), Robert Barnabas (Jan. 19, 1891-Apr. 11, 1956), later becoming Robert Byron Mills II, and Mabel Hattie (b. July 19, 1892) who died on Dec. 1, 1961. [271] John H. would never marry, and Margaret would marry a man named Kenneth Brown in 1913, having one daughter and two sons. As for Joseph, he was an unmarried man reportedly killed while working on the railroad. “Uncle Charlie” married to Bertha Churchill in 1919 with whom he had a child named Douglas M. Packard, and two daughters. In 1940, Charlie remarried to Pearl Gleason. Marion married Edward Dean in 1908, living in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and John Nocker in 1954, and may have had two children from her first marriage (as stated in 1930 and 1940 censuses). Mabel H., buried at West Hill Cemetery in Plainfield, Massachusetts, married first to Giles Whitley with whom she had four children (Giles, Margaret, Harold, and Frances), and second, in 1920, to Joseph T. Landstrom, having six children (Dorothy, Barbara, Phyllis, Joseph (died as an infant at one year old), Alice, and Joan).

Little is known about the early life on the farm for these individuals. This is because the 1890 census was destroyed on January 10, 1921 when a fire swept the Commerce Department building, creating an “archivist's nightmare, with ankle-deep water covering records in many areas” destroying many of the records. [272] There are land records which relate to Cyrus and Dora. In one agreement, he mortgages (or sells?) 112 acres to Henry L. Goodrich. [273] This is likely the Packard farm. Later that month, Henry C. Packard purchases for Cyrus, from Goodrich, the same land. [274]

In 1891, B. Winslow wrote a poem for the 10th anniversary of Dora and Cyrus’s marriage on November 21, 1881. [275] The full poem tells about Dora and Cyrus’s marriage although it is unsurprisingly upbeat, as should be expected at least for the mores of the time:

It was November twenty-first In eighteen eighty one When Love had long enough been nursed Their married life begun.

The vows that then were made and sealed, In eighteen eighty one, From all that yet has been revealed Show all was then well done.

Ten years have passed of married life, And no talk of divorce; Showing a true and faithful wife, And husband, too, of course.

And children, well, there are a few, From union such as thus To bind them in affection true, And crown their wedded bliss.

Four sons, two daughters, fair and sweet, Have blessed this happy home; A present source of pride and joy, Their hope in years to come.

Labor and care have marked their lot, But health hath lent its cheer; So at their toil they've murmured not, Showing their love sincere.

They've shared each scene of joy and woe, And well redeemed the vow They made and sealed ten years ago. And which they honor now.

And their gathered in their home at night, Are friends of youth and age; And all is full of sweet delight, To write on mem'ry's page.

Fond mem'ry's page, on which they stand, Dear memories of the past; Hopes we have had and joys we've planned, That were too sweet to last;

Let us be thankful for them all, Nor at their loss repine And as God's future mercies fall, Hail those for us that shine;

And nobly bear each trial sent, In heart and spirit true; Thus may we have a calm content, Our life' brief journey through.

God bless the bride and bridegroom here, As long as life shall last; May they have memories fond and dear, Such as they have market the past.

Among them all will not be least The memories of this night, When friends invited here were to feast On memories fair and bright.

Despite this lack of records, there is one photograph shared by Dianne Blomquist on the “David Vallender family tree” on Ancestry, showing the family of Cyrus and Dora in Plainfield in 1892. The image shown on the next page shows the 7 children of both of them, providing a snapshot into their life  and customs. This shows that the family was at least partially proper, although this image does not hint at their occupations. Other images of Dora and the family cannot be found, but there are photographs of all of their children at later ages, the same being the case for Cyrus as well.

While Cyrus’s face is not totally clear in the photograph, another one taken around the same time at Camp 55, shows Cyrus (along with Joseph Beals Jr.), listed a member of the Plainfield chapter of the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War (SUVCW). The SUVCW are direct descendants from those “regularly mustered and served honorably in…honorably discharged from, or died in the service of…regiments called to active service…between April 12, 1861 and April 9, 1865.” [276] This means that Cyrus was wearing his father’s uniform, hat, & pants, with two medals already on the uniform or given as a part of his membership. Some context is necessary here. Joseph Beals, Jr., who lived with Hattie B. and Joseph Beals in 1900, would be dead by July 29, 1941 after living in Goshen for most of his life. Since Hattie was Dora’s sister, Joseph Beals Jr. would be his nephew. This would also explain why Cyrus was the informant for Joseph Beals, the husband of Hattie, who died in 1900.

Comparing three available photos, the rightmost one coming from another family history, shows that he was clean cut for this 1892 photograph:

On February 5, 1895, Dora died of tuberculosis (pulmonary phthisis) in Plainfield and was buried in Pottersville, part of New York’s Warren County, a town 35 miles north of her birth place, Glens Falls. This burial place was likely chosen to put in her grave in proximity with surviving family members. On May 11, 1895, the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and Mountain Miller Women’s Relief Corps hosted a memorial service for Dora in West Cummington. There are religious messages, with some calling her a “devoted wife” and “earnest Christian woman” while those within the Relief Corps call her a “sister.” [277]

At the memorial service, likely all of her children were attending. One individual, Joseph Beals, who was Dora’s brother-in-law since he had married Dora’s sister (and his wife), Hattie, described Dora as “kind to everybody” and said that he knew Dora through her “sickness.” This was further cemented by the fact that he visited with Hattie 2-3 times a week, possibly indicating she was sick from 1889 (when Hattie and Joseph married) to 1895. Also at the memorial service a “Poem by Dora M. Packard” which was written in July 1894 was read. Using the clues noted in this pamphlet, it is clear that Dora was a member of the National Women’s Relief Corps. Specifically she was part of Corps No. 158 (Mountain Miller Corps) which was organized on November 22, 1892 and was based in Plainfield, meeting the first Friday of every month. [278] The National Women’s Relief Corps, which still exists to this day, was an auxiliary to the Grand Army of the Republic (Civil War Veterans). It is a secret and “patriotic organization,” meetings held at least once a month, with applications (by those over 16 with "good moral character made in writing and vouched for with two members." [279]

More specifically it had (and has) the explicit purpose to perpetrate memory of the Grand Army of the Republic. As for the latter organization, it came about originally limited to “honorably discharged veterans of the Union Army, Navy, Marine Corps or the Revenue Cutter Service who had served between April 12, 1861 and April 9, 1865” and departments within the organization generally consisted of the Posts within a state and at the national level, with the organization operated by an elected “Commandery-in-Chief" The rituals at the meetings and induction ceremonies were “similar to the Masonic rituals,” used currently by the SUVCW, along with multi-day encampments (meetings) with the final Encampment held in Indianapolis in 1949. [280]

With Dora’s death, the Packard family split apart. Some were adopted by others, like Robert by Dora’s brother, Mabel by the Cosgrove family in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, and Marian and Charles E. by the Beal family in Goshen, Massachusetts. [281] While the 1900 census was issued on June 16, another document claimed he died on June 10. The only reason for this discrepancy in dates means that either the census information was collected before June 10 or that Joseph died on a date after June 16.

With the family going different ways, few stayed with Cyrus. About 6 months after Dora died, he married again to Clementina Cheney. Coming from a well-established New England family, she stayed at home, while Cyrus was a carpenter. He wasn’t done having children. With Clementina he had 5 more children with the last name of Packard, putting his number of offspring at 12. [282] These children would be Olive Martha (October 23, 1896-January 20, 1969), Herbert Miles (October 1898 - August 30, 1966), Rachel May (April 13, 1900 - September 22, 1933), Thomas “Tom” Theodore Packard (May 2, 1902 - 1975), and Harold “Harry” Cyrus Packard (Apr. 24, 1907 – 1975). None ever married.

By 1900, only one of Cyrus’s children from his marriage with Dora would be living with him: John H. Packard who was working as a farm hand. As the head of the household, Cyrus lived on a mortgaged farm and was a carpenter. [283] Later censuses show that none of the children he had with Dora would be living with him. By 1910, he would be mortgaging the farm, but would be a general farmer, living in the same neighborhood as Henry C. Packard’s family. [284] 10 years later, he would own the farm which he had mortgaged for so many years, and be classified as a farmer, just like his sons Herbert & Thomas. Cyrus would later be a cemetery commissioner in Plainfield (in 1907 and 1911). [285]

Ten years later, in 1910, Hattie B., Dora’s sister, was still living in Goshen. [286] She was widowed (evidencing Joseph Beals’ death in 1900) , living with her daughter Edith, from her marriage with Hannibal, and a boarder named George A. Andrews. Two years later, on August 3, 1912, Hattie B. died of chronic vascular heart disease. She was called “Hattie B. Beals” on her gravestone. This same gravestone gives her wrong year of birth, meaning it is off by 11 years! [287]

Before his death, Cyrus would engage in a land transaction with A. H. Allen & Co. involving the 112-acre Packard farm in 1900, mortgage 100 acres of land to a Plainfield resident named Alden L. Torrey in 1905, with the same 100 acres, involved in a mortgage transaction with the Haydensville Savings Bank in 1909, mortgage the property with the same bank (or a different one?) in 1920, four years before his death, and let a company put up powerlines on his property in 1922. [288] In 1924, Cyrus would die, reportedly on April 2, after suffering from a brain tumor, and his wife one year earlier, in 1923. Cyrus, and many of his children, and wives were buried in West Hill cemetery in Plainfield. After Cyrus’s death, Tom took over the “old” Plainfield farm or “home farm” of Cyrus in 1925, buying it for $1,000 from the administrator of his estate, William A. Packard. [289]

Tom kept the farm running, although he wasn’t an “old type carpenter” like Cyrus, until December 1946, when a fire destroyed it, two months after the mortgage on the property was released. After that point, he bought property nearby, the Enoch Sanford homestead, operating it until his death. According to some of those at the Cummington Historical Museum, Tom was quite a character and a potato farmer (with Green Mountain potatoes) but he had a tendency to burn down his barns time and time again. Later he would be a selectman, head the Plainfield Republican Committee, and be a town historian (helping found the Plainfield Historical Society), take notes on local cemeteries. [290] Harold, on the other hand, helped out in the local community, in terms of carpentry and other tasks. The images after this paragraph, in this chapter, show Cyrus, Tom, Mabel, Rachel, Olive, and Marion in later life. In later years, Tom would run “Packard’s store” in Plainfield, still remembering his “late” father, Cyrus. [291]

Most, if not all, of these photos are courtesy of DGVallandar on Ancestry.

Most, if not all, of these photos are courtesy of DGVallandar on Ancestry

Notes

[265] The marriage of Cyrus W. Packard and Nellie J. Mason is documented in Vol. 299, p. 6 & 24, showing their marriage was registered in Cummington and in Plainfield, accounting for duplicate records, with the marriage notice two days before; Nellie J. Mason, Aug. 1, 1861, Massachusetts Births and Christenings, Family Search, citing Cummington, Hampshire, Massachusetts, FHL Microfilm 1,888,606; The Mason Household, Massachusetts State Census, 1865, Family Search, Cummington, Hampshire, Massachusetts, State Archives; Mason Household, US Federal Census, 1870, Cummington, Massachusetts, NARA M593. They were married by a Plainfield Justice of the Peace named Jason Richards.

[266] Packards in Easthampton, Tenth Census of the United States, US Federal Census of 1880, National Archives, NARA T9, Record Group 29, Roll 437, Page 347D, Enumeration District 344, Image 396.

[267] Nellie J. Mason Packard Find A Grave entry; Nellie J. Packard or Mason, 1881, Massachusetts Deaths and Burials; William W. Streeter and Daphne H. Morris, The Vital Records of Cummington, Massachusetts 1762-1900 (Cummington, MA: William W. Streeter, 1979), 140, 215.

[268] Mills Household, Glens Falls, Warren, New York, Census of 1850, NARA M432, Roll M432 609, Page 33A, Image 70; Mills Household, Chester, Warren, New York, Census of 1870, NARA M593, Roll M593 1109, Page 575A, Image 146817; Hammond Household, Glens Falls, Warren, New York, Census of 1880, Roll 941, Page 141A, Image 0437; Mills Household, Census of the state of New York, for 1855. Microfilm. New York State Archives, Albany, New York; Mills Household, Census of the state of New York, for 1865, Microfilm, New York State Archives, Albany, New York.

[269] Mills Household, US Census of 1850, Glens Falls, New York, Family Search, National Archives, NARA M432; Dorothy Ann "Dora, Dory" Mills Packard gravestone; 1870 U.S. Federal Census, Chester, New York.

[270] Mills Household, 1830, Wethersfield, Genesee, New York, NARA M19, Roll 90, Page 331, FHL 0017150; Mills Household, 1840, Chester, Warren, New York, Roll 349, Page 335, Image 685, FHL 0017209. John Rand Mills and Margaret Ann Bibby Mills are buried in Chester Cemetery, within Orange, New York.

[271] John Henry Packard, Margaret Alice Packard Brown, Charles Edward Packard, Marion Estelle Packard Nocker, and Robert Byron “Bert” Packard Mills II’s Find Grave entries. Kenneth’s son’s address was in Burbank, CA.

[272] National Archives, “1890 Census,” Feb. 17, 2005; Kellee Blake, ““First in the Path of the Firemen”: The Fate of the 1890 Population Census, Part 1,” Prologue, Spring 1996, Vol. 1; Kellee Blake, ““First in the Path of the Firemen”: The Fate of the 1890 Population Census Part 2,” Prologue, Spring 1996, Vol. 28, No. 21. W.B. Gay’s "Town of Cummington" within Part Second. Business Directory of Hampshire County, Mass., 1886-87 (Syracuse, NY: W.B. & Gay Co., 1886) lists on page 49, Mary Nash, Charles S. Packard, Cyrus W. Packard, Fordyce Packard, Frank L. Packard & Russell R. Packard. Even with the loss of records in 1890, other sources, like city directories, allow the Packard story to be found and pieced together. This is important for learning more of this family history.

[273] Purchase of land by Merritt Torrey and Stillman Ford, June 13, 1866, Massachusetts Land Records, Hampshire, Deeds 1866 vol 234-237, p. 19, image 466 of 837, Family Search; Mortgage or sale of land to Henry Goodrich by Cyrus W. Packard, Massachusetts Land Records, Hampshire, Deeds 1896-1897 vol 491-494, p. 321-322, images 697 and 698 of 757,courtesy of Family Search. The latter agreement is the only one I could find which mentions “Dora A. Packard.”

[274] Purchase of land by Henry Packard for Cyrus W. Packard from Henry L. Goodrich, Sept. 12, 1890, unindexed documents, book 436 page 43-44 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on "unindexed property search"; Purchase of land by Henry L. Goodrich from Richard A. Lyman, Jan. 13, 1887, unindexed documents, book 410 page 475 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on "unindexed property search." Next page gives the date and more specifics. Nothing more about this agreement is known. Dora would, in 1893, greenlight the selling of Cyrus’s land.

[275] In Packard Genealogy assembled in 2017. Given to the Plainfield Historical Society. Examined on August 5, 2017; Mercer V. Tilson, The Tilson genealogy (Plymouth: The Memorial Press, 1908), 370.

[276] The picture referred can be found here. Membership, Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War, accessed July 14, 201. 1900 U.S. Federal Census, courtesy of Family Search; 1910 U.S. Federal Census, courtesy of Family Search; 1920 U.S. Federal Census, courtesy of Family Search; 1930 U.S. Federal Census, courtesy of Family Search; 1940 U.S. Federal Census, courtesy of Family Search. Find A Grave for Joseph Beals. On April 27, 1898, Joseph Beals, Jr. had married Florence Lena Hall Pratt in Cummington but the marriage was also recorded in Goshen and Plainfield.

[277] This sentence and the one before it cite the Packard family file at the Cummington Historical Museum has one pamphlet titled “In memoriam Dora M. Packard 1895.” Her death record claims both of her parents were born in Britain.

[278] Journal of the Seventeenth Annual Convention of the Department of Massachusetts, Women's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic. Lowell, Mass. February 12 and 13, 1896 Vol. 17 (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1896), pp 37, 100, 187; Other Packards, like Eliza J. of Brockton and C.M. Packard of Avon were members (Journal of the Seventeenth Annual Convention of the Department of Massachusetts, Women's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic. Lowell, Mass. February 12 and 13, 1896 (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1896), 30, 100, 190, 247. Not a member in 1889 or 1890, at least not a major member (Proceedings of the Tenth Annual Convention of the Department of Massachusetts, Woman's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic, Boston Mass. Feb. 12 and 13 1889 (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1889), 5; Proceedings of the Eleventh Annual Convention of the Department of Massachusetts, Woman's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic, Boston Mass. Feb. 5 and 6, 1890(Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1889), 45-46, 96; Journal of the Fourteenth Annual Convention of the Department of Massachusetts, Women's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic. Boston, Mass. February 8 and 9, 1893 (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1893), 32, 89, 187, 210. Dora's chapter not around in 1901. "all loyal ladies" who are "interested in the good work" can be part of the relief corps (History of the Department of Massachusetts, Woman's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1895), 16; "The Relief Corps," The National tribune. (Washington, D.C.), 22 Dec. 1892.

[279] History of the Department of Massachusetts, Woman's Relief Corps, Auxiliary to the Grand Army of the Republic (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1895), v, viii, 10-14, 16-17, 20, 23, 29, 33, 37, 45, 48-59, 61-64, 71-76, 86, 123, 191. Emily L. Clark initiated the Mountain Miller Corps No. 158 in Plainfield on Nov. 22, 1892 with the charter membership as 12 individuals and has 23 by the present date, forwarded supplies to soldier's home in Chelsea and has relief fund (History of the Department of Massachusetts, Woman's Relief Corps, Auxillary to the Grand Army of the Republic (Boston: E.B. Stillings & Co., 1895), 276). Corps officers were elected annually at the last regular meeting in December and each corps could have a relief fund for those in need. They did special work at a soldier's home and Clara Barton supported the organization.

[280] SUVCW, “About the Grand Army of the Republic,” accessed August 13, 2017. The Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War goes as far back as 1881, there is an entry for William H. Packard in the SUVCW database, C.M. Packard of Avon, in Norfolk was a member but his identity is not known. Dora’s chapter was mentioned in The National Tribune from Washington, District of Columbia, Dec. 1, 1892, p. 10, within The National Tribune from Washington, District of Columbia, Dec. 22, 1892, p. 10 and Greenfield Gazette And Courier Newspaper, August 31, 1901, p. 8.

[281] DGVallender, “Mabel Adoption,” courtesy of Ancestry.com; Massachusetts Death Records, 1841-1915 notes that she died in Plainfield; Mills Household, Bolton, Warren, New York, Census of 1860, NARA M653, Roll M653_403, Page 304, Image 308. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Mills Household, Chester, Warren, New York, Census of 1870, NARA M593, Roll M593 1109, Page 575A, Image 146817. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Cosgrove Household, Pawtucket Ward 4, Providence, Rhode Island, Census of 1900, Roll 1511, Page 13A, Enumeration District 156, FHL microfilm 1241511. Courtesy of Ancestry.com; Mixed Family Household, Pawtucket Ward 1, Providence, Rhode Island, Roll T624_1440, Page 16A, Enumeration District 120, FHL Microfilm 1375453.; Thomas Dunne, “Margaret Mills Cosgrove,” Find A Grave Entry, Jun. 9, 2008; Mills Household, Census of the state of New York, for 1855. Microfilm. New York State Archives, Albany, New York; Mills Household, Census of the state of New York, for 1865, Microfilm, New York State Archives, Albany, New York; 1900 U.S. Federal Census; Headstone Application for U.S. Military Veterans in February 1948. This shows that Cyrus clearly moved off ALL of his children to Dora’s relatives, not his own, which is utterly selfish by any standards of decency. This is an opinion, but a well-grounded one.

[282] A Find A Grave entry for Clementina; Marriage of Cyrus Winfield Packard and Clementina Cheeney, 1895, Vol. 452, p. 19 (and transcription of this page); Cyrus W. Packard & Clementine Cheney, 1895, Vol. 452, p. 47 (and transcription of this page); Herbert Miles Packard, Olive Martha Packard, Rachel May Packard, Harold Cyrus Packard, and “Tom” Theodore Packard memorials; Birth of Harold Cyrus Packard, Births Registered in the Town of Plainfield for 1907, Aug. 24, 1907, Vol. 567, p. 281; DGVallender, “Tom Packard Telegram,” date unknown, relating to Plainfield Republican Committee. This shows his political leanings.

[283] Packard Household, US Census of 1900, Plainfield Town Northampton city, Hampshire, Massachusetts, enumeration district 644, sheet 2A, National Archives, NARA T623.

[284] Packard Household, US Census of 1910, Plainfield, Hampshire, Massachusetts, enumeration district 712, sheet 1A, National Archives, NARA T624, roll 594; Packard Household, US Census of 1920, Plainfield, Hampshire, Massachusetts, enumeration district 180, sheet 3A, National Archives, NARA T625, roll 705.

[285] Massachusetts Year Book for 1907, No. 9 (Worchester, MA: F.S. Blanchard & Company, 1906), 172; Massachusetts Year Book for 1911, No. 13 (Boston: Geo. E. Damon Company, 1911), 176.

[286] 1910 U.S. Federal Census; Joseph Beals died in Cummington on June 11, 1900 at age 67, 9 months and 9 days, he died of diabetes and something else; his parents were Dexter Beals (of Plainfield) and Julia Packard (of Goshen); he was a farmer, living in Goshen in his last days as noted in "Deaths Registered in the Town of Goshen for the Year nineteen hundred," vol. 505, p. 259 which was taken from photocopied vital record requested from the Massachusetts Archives in July 2017.

[287] Gravestone of Hetabella Belle “Hattie” Mills Beals; Death certificate of Hattie B. Beals. It is not known why the gravestone is so wrong. Perhaps the people informing the person giving the gravestone had incorrect information

[288] Cyrus and A. H. Allen & Co. agreement, Nov. 29, 1900, Massachusetts Land Records, Hampshire, Deeds vol 540-541, p. 317-318, images 484 and 485 of 545. Charles N. Dyer is a witness for Clementina; Agreement between Cyrus W. Packard and Alden L. Torrey, Jan. 3, 1905, unindexed documents, book 591, p. 71-72 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/ click on “unindexed property search”; Agreement between Cyrus W. Packard and Huntington Savings Bank, June 1, 1909, unindexed documents, book 643 page 51-52 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on “unindexed property search”; Agreement between Cyrus W. Packard and Federal Land Bank of Springfield, Mar. 2, 1920, unindexed documents, book 755, page 47-48 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on “unindexed property search”; Clarifies his right to 112 acres in Plainfield, Sept. 8, 1922, unindexed documents, book 799, page 94 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on “unindexed property search”; Agrees for company to put up powerlines on his property, Aug. 5, 1922, unindexed documents, book 783, page 504 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on “unindexed property search”; Find A Grave entries of Clementina and Cyrus Winfield Packard. A photograph of Cyrus taken around his death in 1924, shows him looking very old with white hair and a slight mustache, possibly pale, with a suite and tie on, looking all dressed up for some occasion.

[289] Memoirs of Howard N. Hathaway, Dec. 23, 1970, transcript of original within Shaw Memorial Library, corrected for Plainfield Historical Society on July 7, 2007, p. 64, 68-69; Prescilla C. Alden and Arvilla L. Dyer, Plainfield, ed. Nancy C. Alden, 2006, Plainfield Historical Society, p. 5, 9, 11; Thomas buys the farm for $1,000 from William A. Packard, administering Cyrus's estate, June 16, 1925, unindexed documents, book 824 page 111-112 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/, click on “unindexed property search”; Mortgage to Federal Land Bank of Springfield Discharged, Oct. 25, 1946, book 1009, p. 486 via http://www.masslandrecords.com/Hampshire/.

[290] H. Elmer Muller, Sketches and directory of the town of Cummington (West Cummington, MA: Published by Author, 1881), pp 11, 18, 20, 26, 30, 39, 41; Plainfield Historical Society, Maps, accessed July 14, 2017; Plainfield Historical Society, "Notes by Thomas T. Packard on Plainfield Cemeteries," date not known; Plainfield Historical Society, “Cemeteries of Plainfield,” accessed July 14, 2017; Plainfield Historical Society, “Plainfield Massachusetts Historical Society 1961 Charter,” accessed July 14, 2017; Plainfield Historical Society, “About Hidden Walls Hidden Mills,” accessed July 14, 2017. The Packards had allied with the Shaw family and clashed with other families within the town. By 1979, with the death of Tom Packard, his estate of over $84,000 had been divided up. The previous year, an attorney from Springfield, Massaschusetts, Doris F. Alden, Tom’s half-sister, meaning that some were given certain shares, specifically receiving a portion of $5,610.69 from the estate, while other nieces and nephews received a 2.5% share ($2,104.01) rather than 6.2/3% share, while Winfield H. Brown, administrator, Doris F. Alden Administrix (female), and Douglas M. Packard received a 20% share ($16,832.08). One relative offered $35,000 to buy the Packard house and 10 acres of land, but this was not accepted ultimately by the owners.

[291] North Adams Transcript, North Adams Massachusetts, Dec. 13, 1951, Page 15. Courtesy of Newspapers.com.

Note: This was originally posted on September 21, 2018 on the main Packed with Packards WordPress blog (it can also be found on the Wayback Machine here). My research is still ongoing, so some conclusions in this piece may change in the future.

© 2018-2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

#packards #genealogy #genealogy research #family history #marriage #cummington #typhoid #diseases #plainfield #Glen Falls #new york #west hill cemetery #ancestry.com #temperance #land #landowners #massachusetts

[charliejrogers]

Miracle on 34th Street (1947) - Review & Analysis

What a weird, wonderful movie. Miracle on 34th Street is quite possibly the oddest Christmas movie I’ve ever seen. In part this is due to the fact that some stuff just doesn’t age well. How many old, strange men are you willing to let your seven-year-old daughter hang out alone with, Ms. Doris Walker?! But also it’s weird because because despite its typical Christmas-movie themes of faith/belief, true love, family, etc… it’s a wholly unique film that doubles as a legal drama!

This was my first viewing of the perennial classic, a film which started as a story by Valentine Davies and was adapted for the screen and then subsequently directed by George Seaton. Though baptized a Roman Catholic, Seaton himself grew up in a Jewish neighborhood of Detroit. He even had a bar mitzvah. I wonder how much of Seaton’s upbringing affected the final product we see. The central theme of holding faith in something that doesn’t make sense to those around you probably resonated strongly for the director who as a kid who became interested in a religion that was foreign to both of his Swedish immigrant parents.

From a direction standpoint, it’s fairly by the books and of its time, with a few notable exceptions, one being the opening credits sequence which shows a lone man walking slowly about the NYC streets from behind. He’s dressed in all black and we have no idea who he could be. He could literally be anyone in the world. Then all of a sudden, like magic, his face is revealed: the man we’re following is Santa Claus! Or, at least it looks a whole lot like him. What is Santa Claus doing in New York? Is this even Santa Claus?

These are questions that end up being central to the movie and just straight up never get answered. I loved that writing choice. The writing is the first of the film’s three big stars. This film won the Oscar for both best story and best adapted screenplay and it deserves every ounce of those awards. The story is so sublimely clever. Put shortly, the movie is about a man who claims to be Santa Claus and due to his uncanny resemblance to the jolly holiday figure, his natural aptitude for talking to children, and his almost savant-like knowledge of toy stores in Manhattan, he gets hired to be the mall Santa for Macy’s flagship Manhattan store. However, not everyone is as convinced that he is the real Kris Kringle. Certainly the Macy’s company psychologist does not. An uptight and unpleasant man, he (like others) thinks Kringle is utterly delusional but (unlike others) he also thinks these delusions presage future violence whenever inevitably others may challenge Kringle on this delusion. The psychologist thus schemes to get Mr. Kringle committed to *cue thunderclaps* Bellevue!

What ensues is a legal battle. I can’t imagine any other Christmas movie whose climax ends in a courtroom but it’s an incredibly satisfying thing to watch. We have the idealistic lawyer, Mr. Fred Gailey, who believes that Kringle, while clearly delusional, poses no actual threat to the community and actually does the community a great service in spreading kindness. Nevertheless, has to prove that Mr. Kringle is legally THE Mr. Kringle lest Kringle spend the rest of his life in the looney bin. Note… I have a very healthy and “modern” view of mental health, and would never use the term “looney bin” to describe today’s mental health hospital… but I use the term here because the images we get in the film of Bellevue’s inpatient psych ward are of sedated men in all-white clothing… in other words the movie certainly thinks of being in a psych ward as a looney bin, which adds a bit of dramatic tension to the story.

There’s certainly some not-so-subtle condemnation of psychology going on this movie (at least of the kind practiced by the Macy’s psychologist, Mr. Sawyer (a snivelling Porter Hall)). This was coming at a time when increasingly science was taking the place of religion, so it makes sense that psychology would be an enemy in a movie about faith and clinging to things that don’t make sense. The trial over the existence of Santa Claus almost serves as an inverse Scopes Monkey trial; Kringle even ironically compares his lawyer to Clarence Darrow, the lawyer on behalf of science.

What this movie nails so absolutely perfectly is that honestly… I don’t know if Kringle really isn’t Santa Claus. I’m not claiming that Santa exists in the real world, but in the world of this film, it’s really not obvious whether the film leans one way or another. That’s an ambiguity that tends to make art shine when it’s present. We see through Gailey’ legal maneuvering that the legal defense for Santa Claus’ existence is tenuous at best. At one point he calls the prosecutor’s child to the witness stand to argue that Santa Claus must be real since that is what his Dad (the prosecutor) has always told him. Therefore it seems like the film’s psychological explanations are probably the most likely. Yet at the same time… when a little Dutch girl comes to see Santa at Macy’s because she can “just tell” he’s the real Santa… why else would Kringle know Dutch songs about Santa off the top of his head? Why does an old man who lives in an old folk’s home on Long Island know so much about Manhattan’s toy stores?

And then there’s the more practical questions about Santa lore. Why is Santa in New York? He says he was born in the North Pole… so why did he leave? If he’s real, then why does he need to direct parents on where to buy the best toys? Is it merely that the world has outgrown him?

There’s also a whole economic piece of the script that I won’t even fully touch on. But basically Kringle in attempt to do right by parents, doesn’t merely recommend toys from the Macy’s toy department, but lets them know about better deals on toys that are located in stores elsewhere in Manhattan, including those that are rivals of Macy’s! This policy is such a hit with customers, it ushers in a revolution in department store policy, with department stores across the nation vying to extend more goodwill to customers. As I said, there’s something in there about the power of the free market and how capitalism doesn’t have to be evil... but I’ll leave it there and return to the central questions of the film. Like... does Santa Claus exist?

I don’t know! But the film raises really interesting questions and just leaves them there for us to sit with. Everything that the film tells us points us to the common sense conclusion that this man is NOT the genuine Jolly fellow… yet we want to believe there’s something more and that’s what makes this film so special. We literally as the audience go through the same mental charades as the characters in the film.

Thus far, I’ve attributed this brilliance to the plot, but there’s another absolutely vital element: the performance by Edmund Gwenn as Kris Kringle. This guy deserves every ounce of his Oscar for his performance. There’s not a second that he’s on screen that he doesn’t ooze charisma and charm. This whole movie would fall apart were it not for him, good plotting be damned, since we need to believe, even for mere fits and flitters, that this man is Santa Claus.

Never is he more convincing than when he interacts with children. There’s the absolutely magical scene with the little Dutch girl I mentioned above, but it’s when Kringle chats with little Susan Walker (played to heart-melting perfection by nine-year-old actor Natalie Wood whose got a stink face that never ceased to make me chuckle) that this movie achieves greatness. Though the trial scenes put the theme of faith vs. psychology at the forefront, the real heart of this movie is the conflict of faith vs. practicality. Little Susan is raised by her mother (and her Black nanny/house-caretaker who gets depressingly little credit… or screentime), and her mother Doris Walker (Maureen O’Hara) is a thoroughly practical women. She’s a high-up exec at Macy’s, and seemingly one of the only women to be in such a position. As such, she’s a unique character for her time. Rigidly pragmatic, she eschews any and all attempts at fun and imagination for her daughter (as well as for herself). We get the sense that a different film, a different story, might dive deep into Walker’s struggles as a single mother in the 1940’s trying to be taken seriously in the business world. In a sense, she’s a forerunner to Faye Dunaway’s character in Network. She was clearly hurt by romance in the past (she and her husband divorced, which I imagine was rather scandalous at the time), and this fear of getting hurt by romance is what compels her to teach her daughter to avoid the stuff completely.

Clearly, there’s some cool gendered stuff going on here. Imagination, romance, faith: these are all things that are stereotypically more female-coded, while business, pragmatism are more male-coded. You inherit your father’s name but your mother’s religion as the old tradition went. And in our society at least, the latter (pragmatism/business) is supposed to make you successful and get you places… the former (faith/romance) does not. Yet in this movie, we have idealism and romance of our male lawyer Fred Gailey (John Payne) and the pragmatism of our female businesswoman Doris Walker. It’s a fun play on typical gender norms, but more interesting is to see how this duality plays out in the development of little Susan under the dual influences of her mother and the combination of Misters Gailey & Kringle.

Natalie Wood goes down in the pantheon of all-time great child actors, up there with the kid from Kramer vs. Kramer. She’s precocious but not in a way that’s off-putting. The way she evaluates the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade in such a matter-of-fact way is hilarious, and as I mentioned the stink eye she gives Kringle when he tries to tell her that he’s Santa is nothing short of perfect. Over the course of the film, we see her more harsh nature melt away and she becomes a kid. It’s a beautiful reminder of that childhood only comes once in a lifetime. If this movie shows us nothing, it’s how hard it is to maintain a sense of levity once one becomes an adult. We have to start worrying about what our bosses might think, what the press/public might think, what voters(!) might think. Never again will it be fully OK to have your heads in the clouds and believe in nonsense, so why take that away from children.

As much as this is a perfect film, I could have done without the romance plot. Mostly because it seems unnecessary. Doris seems to change in her attitudes towards Kringle and towards raising her daughter that constitute enough character growth thata having her all of a sudden fall head over heels for Gailey just seems forced. For that matter… Gailey’s a weird dude. This movie romanticizes a weird, creepy type of romance where Gailey spends time with a small girl just to get time with that girl’s mother. Walker and Gailey are such opposites and share no on-screen chemistry, that I just didn’t buy the plot.

But that’s OK. It’s a small blemish on an otherwise wonderful film. It hits different emotions than, say, It’s A Wonderful Life, but it’s magical all that same, and one that I can actually imagine children wanting to watch. It’s unceasingly clever plot, matched by a once-in-a-lifetime performance by Edmund Gween as Kris Kringle and a great child actor performance from Wood make this a must-see movie for any holiday movie fan.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

#miracle on 34th street #edmund gwenn #maureen o'hara #john payne #natalie wood #george seaton #christmas movies

[five-wow]

i’m watching 10.21!!! [insert excited but apprehensive noises]!!!

by the time you’re reading this i’ll be done watching, so as always, thoughts under the cut:

i opened up the episode, steve’s voice said “previously on ha-” and i paused it because i actually need some food before i do anything right now.

food (and coffee that is 90% milk) acquired! the previously on is just the last few seconds of the previous episode, and oof, it reminded me how hilariously evil this micheal claypool sounded with that intense british accent they gave him (surprise twist: the h50 finale is actually the new bond movie), but now he just showed up on steve’s doorstep and he looks like a really kind somewhat older man, gosh.

steve: “please uh, come on in and make yourself at home.” danny, wherever he is right now: “NINE YEARS. I HAD TO WAIT NINE YEARS AND THIS GUY JUST SHOWS UP AND-”

mr. claypool comes in, sits down, hands a still standing steve a letter and then gathers his coat and briefcase and is immediately back out the door, fdjkfd. also, omfg, i don’t like that doris is still causing drama from the grave, but i have to say, it’s impeccably in character, at least.

steve looks a little disbelieving and unhappy about the contents of the letter, which is not great. it couldn’t have been just a nice “hello my son, sorry you’ve had to live without me for these past four months, i wanted to tell you one last time that i love you and hope you’re doing well”, could it? (for that matter, does mary get a letter??? it always feels like mary either got out in time by not going into anything like law enforcement and therefore not getting pulled into her family legacy of dangerous shit all the time, or like she’s just been outright rejected by their parents who keep building all of their mysteries around steve.)

okay so now we’re watching a woman and her son being held hostage by two criminals who probably killed a cop and want her to stitch one of them up, and obviously they’re bad guys, but one of them just said “think bus boy’s got a thing for you” about the dude who just rang the doorbell and hand delivered a toy the kid had forgotten at a diner and yes!!! i agree!!! and it looked super cute so maybe you could just put your guns away and let them fumble around each other for a little before one of them finally asks the other out on a date and then they end up as a really cute little family.

oh SHIT crush guy just burst into the apartment and really, really seems to know his way around a gun and how to hold his own in a fight against armed criminals. oh! ohhhh, this is the new character they were going to introduce that would potentially have become a cast member if the show had continued without steve, isn’t it? ahhh. that makes sense.

while the woman calls the police, crush guy (who heroically saved her and her son and got shot in the process) just. leaves. that’s not suspicious at all!

the intro!!! feelings!!!

we’re at the cemetary where john mcgarrett rests so i expected to be shown steve, but instead we get?? danny rolling up in the camaro to look at steve crouched by the grave? oh my gosh. ten times better.

danny is SO WORRIED. and he is RIGHT because steve is acting very unlike steve.

fdjkfdjk OF COURSE doris’s message is a bunch of symbols. doris!!! you do not write goodbye messages to your son in wingdings!!! be a good mother for maybe once, perhaps, my gosh!!!

!!!!! steve telling danny he just doesn’t think he really cares anymore and wants to be done with doris’s whole thing is !!!!! very good!!!! i am using too many exclamation points and very aware of it but !!!!!!

i just. look. i just. steve has SAD FEELINGS and he TALKS ABOUT THEM with DANNY and this is pretty much a dream come true. YES. not the sad feelings, i’d rather have happy feelings, but after everything these characters have gone through they need to acknowledge that there are sad feelings before happy feelings can be had.

also, omfg, i had a brief heart attack because steve says joe’s name but he says it with an abandoned “and” kind of tacked onto it, a little mumbly, so it sounds like “losing joe’n- and mom” and for a long moment i was like, losing joan?? what?? because that would not be okay, holy shit, no.

on a lighter note, steve: “i’ll drive.” what a suprise!!! truly a shocking turn of events. :p

yes, steve, antagonize the scary-looking dude who is grieving over his dead brother while standing over the dead brother’s body in the morgue. i’m sure that’s a brilliant plan.

wait what, we suddenly see adam and junior who are talking on the phone because junior called adam to give him an update, and then adam goes, right, but the bad guys don’t know the address yet, and we do! and it turns out he is. standing in the apartment both parties are looking for right at that second. uh. communication, adam, dear lord.

there is some team organizing in hq around the case and then they all disperse and danny looks ready to follow steve into his office but then he gets distracted by tani asking to talk to him for a minute, and then they go out onto a BALCONY that i don’t remember ever having seen before? omg. secret headquarters balcony.

tani asks about steve!! she is worried too!! i’m forgetting about the balcony betrayal and having intense feelings again.

fdjkfd danny tells tani that steve has been running non-stop and is getting burned out and tani asks “alright, well, what are we gonna do about it?” and with absolutely zero hesitation danny goes “i’m gonna force the issue.” i don’t even think that’s a bad plan per se! but the quick and determined way he says it has me laughing anyway, like danny’s been daydreaming while the team was talking about their case and thinking, hm, what can i do to help steve? i know! i’m going to push him in a corner and keep him there and make him FEEL his FEELINGS. danny’s solution here is to throw a grenade at steve, but like, one full of love and caring and hopefully pancakes.

danny is telling tani that he’s seriously concerned about steve’s functioning on the job at the moment and meanwhile steve is out with junior interviewing a guy with an axe. fdjkfd.

okay so steve and junior catch the bus boy crush heroic rescuer guy (whose name is cole) and he won’t talk, and then junior arrives back at hq and tani comes out of her office to talk about steve again, ahhh. she is so worried! and junior is extremely uncomfortable because he feels like he has to defend steve and he ends up saying that steve will deal with things in his own way and oh junior, no, sometimes being hurt and pushing it away is not the best thing. even MORE reasons why steve needs to work through this in a healthy way: he’s setting a very destructive example for junior.

meanwhile steve is chilling on the floor of their rendition room “interviewing” cole all on his own, which seems to boil down to psychoanalyzing cole in a way that sounds suspiciously like steve’s pulling apart pieces of his own mind but attributing all of the problems to cole because that’s way safer than admitting that maybe most of these are his own issues, too, that he’s giving voice to for probably the first time ever.

steve to himself cole: “you’ve been here in this hole since [name of place where tragedy happened]. you‘ve put yourself there.” SUBTLE.

fdjkfd i paused at the perfect moment because immediately after that sentence cole goes “you know, something tells me i could say damn near the same thing about you” and uh, yes. thank you for making my point in-universe, cole, gosh.

steve: [gives a hard stare for a second and then switches back to cole’s current situation without addressing cole’s comment at all]

ahhhh there is a shot that starts with lou, tani and quinn around the tech table analyzing a video that shows our Bad Guys of the moment holding the poor diner lady and her kid hostage (again!) and then moves smoothly through steve’s glass door into his office where he and danny are having a heated discussion about the case and twirls around them. that was very cool!

so the bad guys want cole or they won’t release their hostages, cole wants to do it, danny wants him to do it and convinces steve after multiple little scenes of them disagreeing about it, and then military police comes in and takes cole away, preventing them from actually carrying out their plan. oops!

and THEN cole escapes out of a vehicle with three men guarding him, hah. i’m definitely seeing the heavy handed parallels with steve they’re throwing at us, omg.

danny about cole to steve: “i think this guy might be crazier than you.” i kind of love that every time a new intended team member shows up (tani, junior, i'm pretty sure quinn too?), danny has to compare them to steve in some way. it’s a rule. every time anyone says something vaguely snarky steve physically can’t stop himself from saying “ah, did you know you sound just like danny williams?” and every time someone does something ill-advised yet heroic, danny is obligated by the universe and the wiring of his own heart to go “ugh, you remind me of steve.”

cole gets a pass because he did good stuff and is a war hero, steve and cole make friends, and then cole says he noticed the cypher on steve’s desk and we’re back to the thing i thought this episode would focus on way more heavily.

steve HAS been doing research to try to crack it! danny was right about steve not being able to let this go.

cole knows a guy who’s good at cracking codes! i guess that’s a neat way to connect him to steve’s finale plot and move it along at the same time, haha.

steve is still at the office when his phone rings and it’s danny and then steve walks onto his beach where danny is waiting for him in their two chairs with two beers, and i love that, especially because we don’t hear danny’s side of the phone conversation but it was a very short scene so what did he say, exactly? “come home, i’m lonely, i have beer”?

steve: “what’s the face, you got a face on, your face” fdjkfd. eloquent!

SCREAMING. “you think lincoln is my new bff? yo, no one can replace you, you’re my danno!” i am. oh my gosh. this is steve reassuring HIMSELF, not danny, but it is also incredibly sweet and YOU’RE MY DANNO. now THAT’S the kind of content i want. yes. good. holy shit.

danny says to stop doing “that”, by which he means deflecting, and steve just goes “okay” and looks uncomfortable but starts talking anyway and i LOVE THEM. this is a good, healthy friendship.

steve: “i kinda feel like i’ve been protecting everybody except for myself, does that make sense?” YES. YES, STEVE, IT DOES, and i am VERY GLAD you’re saying those words with your own mouth.

i am making very high pitched noises at the moment. a) steve says he can’t take a break “here” because there are too many memories and that SCARES ME because he SHOULD NOT LEAVE THE ISLAND but also really really validates a fic idea i’ve had for ages in a way that i love, b) steve says “i will say this is how i thought it would end for us, couple old guys, sitting on a beach, watching sunsets” and YES oh my gosh, and c) then DANNY GOES, “i mean that sounds great to me, we can still do that” and HELLO YES it is SO GOOD to hear them VOICE these things that they’ve obviously both wanted for literal years and which we’ve been shown through steve’s clinginess when danny wanted to retire and danny’s bringing steve in on the restaurant thing and danny’s literal dream of him and steve sitting on that very beach as old men with steve telling him he loves him. just, my gosh, this is all those things but put into words that they are saying and it is very validating and sweet and necessary and scares me very much about where this is going, but for the moment i adore it.

the episode has two and a half minutes left and i’m kind of feeling like this is enough. let’s just end it here. happy end, guys, let’s all go home! except steve and danny, who are already there, obviously, and should do the opposite of move, ever.

OH. OHHH. steve tells danny he doesn’t know anymore and danny looks sad and then steve continues about how he’s been trying to distract himself with stuff like “a bunch of dating, which was nice, but didn’t help” and the RESTAURANT gets a mention though i’ll admit it’s one that’s very confusing because steve says “when it closed”, which... it didn’t, as far as we had been told until now? isn’t kamekona still running it? i always assumed he’d have turned it into a very successful bussiness venture.

danny looks UNHAPPY ABOUT THINGS STEVE IS SAYING and i relate, while i’m at the same time weirdly very very proud of him for saying these things? i don’t want him to feel this unsure about everything (particularly whether he can stay in hawaii, because it seems that’s what he’s talking about and that’s Bad), but it is a needed breath of fresh air to have stuff that happened and that he’s been bottling up for ages actually impact him emotionally.

okay, fjdksfdjslfs, danny suggests steve should GO TO JERSEY and says that steve has NEVER BEEN and i get that this is mostly kind of a joke but actually YES, STEVE. GO THE FUCK TO JERSEY. that would be perfect! danny can subtly follow you under the guise of an extended visit to family and you can spend time there together exploring danny’s home state instead of steve’s and you can come back home to hawaii when you’re ready and it would be beautiful and a very nice, symbolic way to end the show. we start with danny moving to hawaii to find a home there, and we end with with steve moving to jersey to realize where his home is.

this argument though, it’s giving me life. steve when danny starts suggesting other places, angrily, for no good reason: “now i HAVE to go.” danny, both giving and getting up: “i’m gonna get another beer.” steve, calm again: “okay, i’m gonna go to jersey.” danny: [walks away while steve yells after him about all the recommendations he’ll need for when he’s in jersey]

danny is inside to get the beer, hears a noise, finds a burglar at steve’s desk, fights him, destroy half the living room and is found by steve who also heard noise from the house and suddenly keeps saying “yo” to danny a lot this episode.

of course the burglar was there for the cypher that doris sent steve, because she can never just pop up in steve’s life in a way that isn’t  somehow dangerous to him and everyone around him. it was good, though!!! a very nice cliffhanger.

final thoughts: VERY GOOD, VERY INTENSE EPISODE. i liked cole more than i expected for a character that gets introduced as potential main cast in the last two episodes of a show that’s by now already been cancelled (that could have been problematic, but i think the writers handled it well by brick-to-the-face using him to explore steve’s issues) and i love danny being so worried about steve and tani following his lead and wanting to talk to everyone close to steve about how worried she is, too, and everything steve says has ME worried about how they’re going to end this, but so far, it’s also amazing A+ perfect fanfic fuel, holy effing shit. EMOTIONS. FEELINGS. STEVE HAS THEM. it’s literally that easy to please me, fdjkfd.

and i will say that while i’m worried about him and he’s clearly hurting and there are ways the show could take this that i won’t like (steve leaving the island at the end of the show while danny stays, mainly, which would be kind of horrible in all kinds of ways), i do somewhat love seeing steve deal with the fact that he’s older than he was ten years ago, he’s never really worked through all of the incredibly horrible shit life kept heaping on him, and he’s just getting really damn tired of everything. old, tired steve is a good thing; it’s the start of a new chapter, one where he hopefully doesn’t keep clinging to that endless denial of hurt and his tendency to put the job above everything including his own mental and physical health. i just hope, hope, hope that this last chapter that we actually get to watch play out on screen will be one that ends in a place that feels right, because this could either end perfectly or so, so badly. 🤞

#h50 #10.21 #h50 spoilers #i am now VERY SCARED but also VERY HYPED for that last episode next week #*

[wonderlustlucas]

soonie, doongie, dori, & john - lee minho

⇢ prompt “Why did you steal a fish? You don’t even take care of yourself let alone a fish.”—a prompt from @the-moon-dust-writings​ ⇢ pairing minho x female reader ⇢ word count 4.4k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings lots of cat interaction. if u don’t have a cat you may be confused. mega fluff. that’s it. ⇢ summary Sharing an apartment with Lee Minho has been an adventure since day one. Plus, you got a best friend and three fur children out of the deal. But when a heavy realization hits you the same morning Minho has an accident at the pet store, it seems as if it’s only a matter of time before John shoots Cupid’s arrow and paves the way for a happy ending.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n bear with me on this one, it’s kind of slow in the beginning. this is the first i’ve written in ages. i feel like i’ve forgotten how to english. also i did as much research as i could find to try & figure out the genders of minnie’s cats hopefully theyre right jsfajkhkjf. also i watched a lot of vids of minho for this & it rlly made me realize how much i love him & how soft i am for him & it seems as if my bias list is unstable now

From her curled-up position in between your legs, Dori’s ears twitch up in attention at the sound of the front door swinging open and closed from across the apartment. She has grown a lot since Minho first brought her home, you notice when she finally lifts her tiny head to listen to the footsteps past your bedroom door, jade eyes blinking tiredly at you in post-nap dreariness. Excited, she pushes herself up to arch her back in a long stretch before she abandons the warmth of your bed to greet Minho. Pouting, you watch as Soonie ditches you as well, hopping off from his perch looking out the window to follow the younger kitten.

“Oh well,” you mutter to none other than Doongie who stays by your side, white mittened paws tucked snugly under her chest that rumbles with a purr when you reach over to scratch the soft fur behind her ear, “I still have you.” You can practically feel Minho’s jealousy radiating from behind the door when only two out of his three children go to see him— not that this is new.

It has been this way since you moved in together nearly two years ago. Due to increasing international interest for your university at the end of each year, not every incoming freshman was guaranteed a dorm room. It just so happened Minho and you were two unlucky victims of such a shortage. By chance, you had met at an open house only seven months prior and so, not even knowing whether he was frantically searching for an apartment like yourself, you reached out to him with an offer your parents helped scrap up.

Minho was uncertain at first. First, he was not prepared to start university living with a girl. It wasn’t that he did not like girls; he simply grew up expecting to meet his forever “bro” in his dorm room. In addition to this, he was an only child and imagined living with a female only child could end up causing him some great distress.

Secondly, while the pros outweighed the cons for the most part, he was more than disappointed that the apartment was in a more… domestic part of town. Yes, the rent was cheaper than the apartments closer to campus. Yes, he would be able to have a car now and yes, the apartment really was more than sustainable for two kids, but it was all these things and more because it was not an area where sleaze balls sunk their talons into desperate students looking for a place to live. And so, this basically meant that the two of you were close to the only students in the area.

And last but not least: there was only one bathroom. Enough said.

But what eventually won him over was the fact that the apartment was pet friendly, which meant he could bring Soonie and Doongie (and Dori, eventually) with him. It was for this reason he finally agreed to share the apartment with you before he lost the opportunity and you asked someone else.

It couldn’t be that bad, right? Afterall, you seemed nice enough at the open house and you did go out of your way to ask him in the first place to live with you. And he was right. In fact, it was not bad at all. You were more than nice, generally not concerned with specifics other than the agreement that Wednesday was grocery shopping day together, Friday was cleaning day, and that you washed your own dishes. Minho did not mind those three simple promises because he found getting to be your friend easy and your roommate his favorite part of his day.

What he did mind, however, was the fact that Doongie instantly took a liking to you. “This isn’t fair,” he complained only your third day together after searching for said feline and finding her cozied up with you on the sofa, “how can she betray me like this?”

His possessiveness humored you, to say the least. “What can I say? She just likes me better. You’ve bored her, Minnie.” He grimaced at the nickname and your bold statement. You were just bluffing—there’s no way Doongie would choose you over him after all these years, right?

Wrong. After freshman year flew by and the two of you agreed to stick together for a second year due to how dependent you had become on one another, he suddenly brought home Dori to ‘fill the void Doongie left in my heart,’ he exaggerated. “Wow, is Soonie not enough for you? You make him sound so unimportant. Maybe I’ll steal him too,” you had replied, grinning from your spot in bed when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“I thought you’d be mad I brought a kitten home,” Minho admitted from the doorway, ignoring what you said and holding said tabby against his chest with one arm. He’s so cute, you admired for hardly a second, reaching for your iced tea on your bed side table and shrugging to him, “You know I don’t care, you’re the one who pays the vet bills. Bring all the cats you want; the more, the merrier,” you said, taking a sip and blinking at him lethargically.

For a moment he was quiet, processing your words before, “If we get married it would be our vet bills.”

You nearly choked on a mouthful of tea. Married? You took a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts. “Minho, if your plan is to marry me, you’ve done a terrible job at getting that message across.”

“Damn, what can I do?” He asked, sulking.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, grinning at him behind warm cheeks, “you can start by getting your ass over here so I can see this new kitty and discuss our wedding theme.”

And that’s just how things were; you, Minho, Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.

Or so you thought.

Past the hum of your ceiling fan and the purring coming from Doongie like an engine, for a minute or so you listen to Minho sing, “I want to see my little boy,” from Vine to presumably Soonie at least four times, followed by a loud thud, a high-pitched screech (not from a cat), a door slamming closed, and then the pipes moaning like a horror movie as the shower is turned on. Unfazed by the chain of events as this kind of chaos was something you have come to accept living with Minho, you shrug off all the noises you heard and opt instead to regretfully roll over until you meet the edge of the mattress.

Once you manage to tumble out of bed and stretch good enough to make your legs shake, Doongie lets out unamused meow now that her own personal space heater and pillow has moved.

It’s you. You’re the personal space heater pillow.

“Whaaaat,” you reply, grabbing a pair of cotton shorts from a drawer and glancing back at her. With ears drawn flat, Doongie follows your movements with a cold glare. “I’m sorry,” you coo, falling for her manipulation and bending back over the mattress to envelope her in a hug of sorts and cover her muzzle in kisses. When she starts struggling to get away from your grip, beginning to meow loudly and pushing your arm away with her paws, you pull away and scratch the base of her tail as she stands to stretch.

Shimmying the shorts up your legs with an unnecessary amount of effort exerted, you at last exit your room for the day, grabbing your phone from where it sat charging on the bed side table on the way. Padding barefoot down the brief hallway, you realize with a shiver when you reach the tiny dining room table how unreasonably freezing it is in the apartment. Minho must have not raised the thermostat this morning after lowering it to sleep.

Instead of fixing the problem, you reach for Minho’s orange university sweatshirt draped over one of the chairs and pull it over your head. At your feet, Doongie weaves between your legs, dragging the side of her face against your shins and she does not stop mewing until you bend down to gather her into your arms so that her front paws dangle over your shoulder. “So needy, you are,” you grumble, blowing her tail away when she threatens to swat your mouth and making way for the kitchen where coffee calls your name.

Minho must have made enough for the both of you as there is still another cup or two left in the pot, you realize with a smile, reaching up into the cabinet for a mug and pouring yourself a cup. Doongie leaps off your shoulder when you open the refrigerator for creamer, joining Soonie and Dori who sit poised like statues along the kitchen’s pony wall.

Stirring in cream and sugar, you wait until the color softens to a lighter shade of brown before unwrapping the flakey chocolate croissant Minho bought you yesterday and taking a seat at the table. Humming to yourself, you shift to cross your legs on the chair while taking slow sips of your coffee, heart beginning to thump faster in your chest.

And it’s not from the caffeine now making its way through your system.

This is too good. Life is too good, and you should not feel at such peace at twenty years old. You should not be having such a casual morning, drinking coffee Minho made for you, eating a croissant Minho bought you, wearing a sweatshirt Minho left hanging around, having a staring contest with the cats Minho brought into your life, listening to Minho sing in the shower one room over. Minho.

You slowly set your mug down with a newfound epiphany flashing like a billboard in your brain. Of course, you always knew Minho was the most special person in your life recently, your best friend really, and that you loved him. You probably would not have lived with him for this long if you didn’t. But since when were you in love with him?

You shake your head and take a hefty mouthful, hoping to wash away such troublesome thoughts. You’ll get over it. It’s just a crush. On the boy you live with. And spend all your time with.

“Oh boy, what are we gonna do now?” You ask the three felines who have abandoned studying you to stare down like hawks at the table, ears raised in curiosity. You follow their gaze, squinting in hope to better your vision when you see the fluttering tail of a fish as it swims within its tiny plastic cup. Blinking once, twice, and on the third you finally reach over and grab the container, bringing it closer to inspect and yep, that most certainly is a betta fish staring back at you.

Setting it atop the refrigerator where the cats can’t get to it, you stuff the rest of breakfast into your mouth and dump what’s left of your coffee into the sink before marching to the bathroom, swinging the door open without so much as a knock. He yelps from behind the shower curtain and you mentally thank God you did not barge in to find him butt naked in front of the mirror.

“Lee Minho, care to explain why there was a fish on the kitchen table?” You bark, crossing your arms and leaning against the sink for when he pops his head outside of the curtain.

“First of all, you could have knocked,” he starts, looking to the floor when you glare at him, “and I, um, I stole it.” You sigh in defeat, dragging your hands down your face when he disappears back into the shower. “Minho, why did you steal a fish? You don’t even take care of yourself let alone a fish.”

“That just isn’t true. I am fully capable of taking care of myself and my children. And I didn’t mean to steal it,” he retorts, turning off the water and you watch as he slips an arm out to slap around in search of his towel. “How the fuck do you accidentally steal something, Minho? And did you not think I would see it eventually?” You huff, exasperated.

“You see, I went to go pick up cat food and I dropped my phone where all the betta fish in cups are and when I went to pick it up the bag hit a cup and it fell and then the lid popped off and then there was water everywhere and the fish was just flopping around so I panicked and put it back in and then ran to get water from a fish tank and I thought I would get in trouble so I just ran out since no one saw me,” Minho rambles without taking a breather, whisking open the shower curtain and stepping out as he does so, towel snug around his waist and cheeks glowing pink from both embarrassment and the aftermath of a hot shower. You sigh for a third time, moving out of his way when he makes way for the cabinet and opting to sit on the toilet.

“Did you even get the cat food, then?”

“No, I just ran. With the fish.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you grumble, “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot,” he grins, dragging a cotton round over his face with toner. You send him a warning glare. “Well,” you click your tongue, hypnotized as he combs out his hair and by how unfairly ethereal he looks post-shower, “we should probably go to a different pet store to get cat food. And we need to get a nice fish tank and food.”

He raises a brow, surprised with how nonchalant you are, and moves to stand in front of where you sit so he can tilt your face up with his index finger tucked under your chin. “Are you mad?” He asks.

It’s not fair, really, the way he asks such a question after making you feel so vulnerable under his touch and proximity, heart racing a mile a minute. Really, you should be mad. But when it comes to Minho, you cannot find it in yourself to be. This is just how things are with him.

“No, I’m not mad,” you smile reassuringly, leaning into his touch and you both seem to forget for a moment that you are nothing more than friends when his hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb ever so slightly brushing over your warm skin as he beams down at you, “just amazed as usual at how stupid you are.”

“Hey!” He steps back at this, running his fingers through his damp hair and shaking out the strands. “I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah, and Doongie likes you more than me.”

“It sucks we have a fish now. I was thinking about getting a guinea pig or something soon. Maybe even a rabbit,” you announce, leaning over with Minho to peer into the guinea pig enclosure. His giggle reverberates throughout the entire store and you cannot help but grin in return, even though he has scared all the little critters back into their huts. With nothing left to coo over, you grab his hand and tug him toward the fish care.

“Where are we going to keep… him? What’s his name? Do we even know if it’s a him?” Your question turns into three, stopping in an aisle full of different tanks and small décor pieces to go inside.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a dude. I think they only sell males in that section anyway. I’ll check if he has a dick when we get home though,” when you look over, he’s smirking as if he just said the funniest thing ever and you have to hold back your laughter. “Yeah, you do that, Minho. I’m sure you’ll be real successful.”

“We can probably just put him on the desk. I’ll move all my shit and he can just go next to my laptop,” he continues, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as you look over the different tank options. It makes it hard to concentrate with him so close. “I mean— yeah. Yeah. That works,” you stutter, swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat and quickly scanning over the tanks one more time, “we should get this one. Is that okay?” You move closer to said tank, hoping he would let go when you reach out to grab the box but when he doesn’t, your heart seems to beat so erratically in your chest that you think it might fly out. Why, all of a sudden, are there butterflies—no, lions—in your chest when he is around you when there weren’t before? When did this happen?

“Minho. We can cuddle at home. I just want to get what we need and leave,” you whine, trying to pry his fingers apart from where they are linked above your hips, leaving your skin tingling even under his sweatshirt. He huffs, detaching himself from your frame. “Fine. But we’re gonna get home and you’re gonna say ‘Wait, we have to take care of the fish’ first and by the time we’re done, you’ll fall asleep before we even have a movie on,” Minho grumbles, taking the box you shove into his hands and trailing after you.

You gasp, pointing an accusing fake plant in his direction, “No, you fat head. You’re always the first to fall asleep. You just like to blame it on me.” He continues to grumble under his breath while you grab a bag of pebbles, fish food, and water conditioner, finally able to breathe now that he isn’t clinging to you.

“Come on, stinky. I don’t want you to start crying on me,” you grin, wishing you could hold his hand but alas, you did not think of grabbing a basket on your way in. His face brightens up with a smile anyway, and he follows you the rest of the way right at your side.

“So, you never gave him a name. What’s it gonna be?” You ask, nearly unhinging your jaw to take a bite of the Big Mac Minho begged you to order after making fun of you the whole ride home for never having one. You stopped at McDonald’s just to appease him. You look to the fish, surprised yourself over how pleasant his quiet presence is, especially with his emerald and sapphire scales that reflect and glow iridescent in the light.

“Mm,” he hums, chewing on his own hamburger and watching the fish in thought, “I think… I think John.”

You blink at him now, setting your food down. “John?”

“John.”

“Why… why John? Why not Nemo or something?” You ask, eyeing him curiously and gnawing on the straw to your soda.

“Dunno. He just looks like a John,” Minho explains, giggling cutely and looking back up to you with stars in his eyes. It feels like liquid adrenaline is being injected right into your bloodstream when you lock eyes, and looking into Minho’s cat-like eyes feels like looking into the sun for too long—it almost burns, instead, there is an entire zoo in your chest. But it feels good. You almost wish he did not stop giggling so you could giggle with him. Instead, you have found yourself lost in him, every ounce of breath stolen from your lungs.

“Are… are you going to actually take a sip of that?” He giggles again, glancing to the soda straw dug awkwardly into your bottom lip.

Your cheeks flush hot pink, stomach sinking heavily and you cannot find your voice. Clearing your throat, you look away as you begin to hyperventilate and stand up abruptly to grab John’s fish tank from the table and walk across the room toward the desk.

“___? You alright?” He asks, worry lacing his tone and you wince when you hear him push his chair in. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine,” you laugh breathlessly, placing John down and adjusting the tank so it sits catty-cornered next to Minho’s laptop.

“No, you’re not.” He is quick, you’ll give him that. In the blink of an eye he is at your side, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you to face him. Here we go again, you hiss at yourself to snap out of it, clenching your fists at your sides simply due to how overwhelmed you feel. How incapable you are to forget how you have been feeling and brush it under the rug.

“Why’d you get all googly eyes on me over there?” Minho questions, grinning like a madman when he brings his hands up to cup your face and squish your cheeks together. “And why are your cheeks all hot?” You gasp, defensive, and press your hands over his, “M’not.”

He drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in closer so his breath fans over your face, “Is that how I make you feel, ___?”

You blink at him, all the color draining from your face and you must look ridiculous right now, jutting your lips out in a pout as he continues pressing your cheeks together. And what can you say now that he has caught you? Lie? “No,” is all you quip, staring at him, practically begging for mercy. No more questions. Just a ‘goodnight’ and off to your room for the night.

“Hmm,” he hums, pondering for a moment, before grinning once more, “I have an idea.” Oh no, you do not like the sound of that. Minho? Having ideas? Bad. This thought progressively resonates louder in your mind the closer he gets, this is bad, this is bad, this is really bad. It just so happens that a whimper on behalf of your sanity escapes you the same moment his grip on your face eases and he moves his hands to rest below your ears, thumbs caressing your cheeks before his lips brush yours.

His lips are warm and taste… salty? The fries, you realize, before his tongue pressing to the seam of your lips obliterates every thought. The worries leading up to this moment evaporate like a summer shower on a hot car and, of course, you part your lips and grant him access. Drunk on endorphins, your brain seems to light itself on fire and warmth spreads throughout your entire body, your only desire to touch him, to stand up higher and to hold his cheek the way he holds yours.

His fingers run down your spine, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. A kiss like this is a beginning, a promise of so much more. “___,” he whispers slowly when he pulls away, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. You smile, heart fluttering at his voice as you lean forward and bury your face into his chest, overwhelmed with relief and desire and worry and giddiness.

“___,” Minho repeats, running his hands up and down over your arms, calming you down before reaching your shoulders and pulling you back, “how did that make you feel?”

“You— what?” Is all you manage, searching his face for a trace of mirth, and yet you find none. In fact, he himself seems relieved, the corners of his mouth quirked up and his eyes bright and dark all at once like the midnight sky. He grins, laughing a little and stroking the baby hairs around your face with his finger. “I like when you wear my stuff,” he says, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt you still wear.

“Um, I— thanks?” You laugh nervously, heartbeat beginning to skyrocket once more when he reaches for your arms and maneuvers them to hug around his waist. You hum, confused, but content nonetheless and link your hands together. He instantly presses closer, tipping your chin up, “I know you always say I flirt with everyone, but I don’t know how you haven’t realized by now I only want to flirt with you. It’s been you since Doongie chose you. I can’t even get you out of my head, imagine how hard it is living with you, not able to kiss you and do all the cute shit I know we would love.”

He what now? You blink up at him, more than bewildered, “Wait, are you trying t—”

“Yes,” he interjects, not even giving you a chance to finish, “whatever you’re thinking, yes. I’m confessing, or whatever. So let’s cut to the point. Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Your brain stutters for a moment and every part of you goes on pause while your thoughts catch up. Girlfriend? Well, of fucking course you want to be his girlfriend, but how have you been misreading all of him for so long? “God, I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” You mutter instead, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead and his giggles ring throughout the room.

“How many languages do I have to get through for that to translate into a ‘yes?’” Minho cackles, prying your hand away to return it around his waist. When you look up at him, you feel as if you may cry, so instead you opt to laugh with him in order to dodge the waterworks. “Yes, of course that means yes. It’s always been a yes, stupid.”

“Hey, you’re the stupid one. Seriously, have you seen us today? We’re so coupley already, literally nothing is changing,” Minho chuckles, walking you backward until you comfortably fall back on the sofa together, “except now,” he pauses, settling himself above you and bringing his face up to yours once more, “I can kiss you wheneeever I want.”

And he does just that; peppering your face, your lips and cheeks and nose with kisses until he has made you a giggling mess, writhing beneath him until he finally stops, sharing a mingled breath with you. “Is it too early to say the ‘L’ word?” Minho whispers, tracing your upper lip with his thumb. You smile, kissing the pad of his finger before, “No. I already know I love you, Minnie. I’m more than in love with you.”

His smile is one of happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. “Heh. I like this. I love you too,” he answers, finally returning to kiss you in a way that is slow and soft and comforting in ways words cannot describe. And then he pulls back with a gasp.

“I forgot the cat food.”

#kwritersworldnet #lee know #lee minho #minho #stray kids #skz #minho scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #kpop #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #minho stray kids #minho stray kids fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #minho stray kids scenarios #minho stray kids reactions #lee know scenarios #lee know stray kids #lee know stray kids fluff #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #lee know smut #stray kids au #lee minho au #lee know au #stray kids ff #lee minho ff

[lezliefaithwade]

Being An Actress

I remember the moment I decided I wanted to be an actress. I was walking across the parking lot of my high school after an undoubtedly stellar performance as Portia in an all-girl production of The Merchant of Venice when my father turned to me and said, "Do you think you might want to do this for a living?" At the time I remembered feeling a little insulted. My grades were excellent. Didn't my father think I could be a lawyer or a veterinarian or a psychologist? It wasn't that I didn't love to act, but everyone I knew who wanted to be an actress was either egotistical or unstable. Not that one was mutually exclusive of the other. What did this say about me? No one in my family acted, although my Grandmother often hinted of an unsubstantiated family connection to Hermoine Gingold. Occasionally my parents would take us to see a play or listen to a concert, but only to help make us well-rounded individuals. When someone would go on about the Sound of Music my father would roll his eyes and say, “How can I take a nun singing on hilltops seriously?” And I found myself admitting that he had a point.

When I was four I appeared on Romper Room for an unprecedented two weeks. At the time my best friend, Mary Lou, had been selected for the local cable network but her incredibly shy demeanor had her mother worried.

“She’s gonna sit there like a sack of potatoes.” Mrs. Dean told my Mother who quickly suggested that I accompany Mary Lou for moral support.

“What do I have to do?” I asked my mother as she was tucking me into bed.

“Just be yourself,” she replied. My mother knew exactly what that meant. Naturally loquacious I kept things hopping on the set by constantly commenting on the camera man kissing the teacher. When asked what my father had in his garage, I remarked that it was presumptuous to even assume we had one. There was some discussion about a third week, but Miss Dawson put her foot down and said I was stealing the show.

Soon I was taking dance classes and skating lessons. My first stage appearance was as a rabbit in the famous ballet, Bugs Bunny's Birthday Party. I was excited because we second tiered rabbits were going to eat sandwiches on stage. Then disaster struck. The sandwiches were going to be peanut butter and I hated peanut butter. Teary eyed I complained to my mother who told me to grin and bear it. “That’s acting,” she said.

In grade four I wrote a play about a pair of motorcycle lovers and sang Baby Driver while they straddled their desks and rode off into the sunset.

“Hit the road and I’m gone.

What’s your number?

I wonder how your engine feels?”

“Okay,” Mrs. Orcutt interrupted, “I think that’s all the time we have for that today.”

After my father gave me his blessing to pursue a career on the stage, I decided to explore all of my options. I auditioned for an amateur theatre company and played bird #4 in Aristophanes’ The Birds, and a milk maid in Galt MacDermot’s musical adaptation of Shakespeare’s Two Gentlemen of Verona. Not exactly earth-shattering roles, but I knew there was a pecking order (no pun intended) and that dues must be paid. In Niagara Falls, where I lived as a teenager, there were two amateur companies. The youth group that took over the Firehall Theatre in the summer months of July and August, and the adult group that staked their claim the rest of the year. The youth company was run entirely by a handful of 18 to 20-year-olds who took themselves very seriously. We stretched ourselves artistically, which is really just another way of saying that were out of our depth. I remember as Bertha in Pippin I had to say, "Men raise flags when they can't get anything else up." At the time I had no idea what that meant but I certainly enjoyed the response I got every time I said it.  

The amateur theatre company in the neighbouring city of St. Catharines were doing large scale musicals with professional directors and a cast of a thousand. Even I could tell the difference between Garden City’s production of West Side Story and the Niagara Falls Music Theatre Production of A Shadow Box. We told ourselves that we were doing something significant for the five or six audience members who sat in the dark to watch us perform. “At least they can appreciate art.” we told ourselves, ignoring the occasional snore beyond the footlights.  When someone who had seen our production complained in the paper that “…smut didn’t belong on stage.” I was devasted. “Some people just don’t know a good thing when they see it,” I ranted, “It’s a Pulitzer award winning play.”  I forgot that we weren’t Tony award winning actors.

Anxious to spread my wings and get a taste of the real thing, I auditioned for a one-act play festival at the nearby University and managed to get the part of an uptight bible thumper in an original musical called A Hundred Bucks a Week. It was the story of a topless shampoo parlourist who castrates a guy with her teeth. Did I mention that it was narrated by a cat? I still remember singing:

“We all must be as babies in the garden.

Smiling with our mouths all bright and new.

Innocently smelling lovely roses.

Not prying with our fingers in dog doo.”

Needless to say, my father was a little shocked when an actress appeared on stage topless while I sang my heart out in a futile effort to convert her. This time as he walked me across the parking lot to the car he suggested that perhaps I should seriously consider journalism at Carleton. “Impossible!” I stated dramatically, “I’m an actress.” And I actually believed it.

I arrived at University wearing vintage clothes with frizzy hair and John Lennon glasses. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be Doris Finsecker from Fame or Janice Joplin. My dorm room-mate was an engineering student who was the first to know of a kegger and had never seen a play in her life. She often returned to our room late at night reeking of booze and sludge water after spontaneous dips in the Detroit River.

At theatre school I was told I couldn’t dance, I couldn’t sing, I had speech impediments and a wandering left eye that would completely destroy any hopes of a career in film “Too bad you didn’t have it looked at when you were a kid,”one professor told me, “It’s easily treatable if caught when you are young.” At the age of five I was a frequent visitor to Sick Kids Hospital for my eye and wore a patch over my glasses for a year. It didn’t cure me. So much for trusting the knowledge of my professors. Strike one!

I began to sink under the pressure of looks and expectations. While the rest of the women in my class wasted away proclaiming to have eaten nothing but broccoli over Thanksgiving, I gained seven pounds over a new found love of peanut butter and developed a bad attitude towards anyone who encouraged me to “feel space”. When my teacher overheard me mutter under my breath one day that I hated improve she called a class meeting to discuss why I hated her. Everyone stared at me shocked and disappointed. Why was I resisting the pu-pu platter of techniques spread out before me? “You’re a very stubborn actress,” the teacher announced, “but I’m going to break you.” That was strike two.

At my first semester tutorial I was told that I had talent, but I wasn’t tall, thin or pretty enough. “You have the face of Sally Field,” the department head told me, “but the body of Kathy Bates.” Strike three.  I went home for Christmas and announced to my father that I was dropping out to focus, instead, on getting into a proper theatre school in New York. After all, I reasoned, it’s where I really wanted to be anyway.

There is probably nothing quite as depressing as returning to your hometown in the middle of winter when all of your friends are away at school having the time of their lives. The overall perception is that you have failed. It didn’t help to think that I had willfully brought myself to this point in time. The phrase, “small fish in a big pond” kept going around in my head. While my best friends were acing all of their classes and dating interesting freshmen, I was eating cookies, and counting the days until everyone would return to amuse me. In the meantime, I moped around the apartment, wrote letters to theatre schools and read a lot of plays.

“You have to get a job.” My father announced and for the first time I was forced to slog my way through the want ads in a half assed attempt to find work at either a wax museum or a fudge shop. Completely unqualified for anything except theatre, I was forced to become a chamber maid at a tacky little hotel near Clifton Hill. Picking up after the kind of clientele that honeymoon in tacky hotels in Niagara Falls is enough to get one thinking seriously about their life choices. Maybe Dad had been right. A career in the theatre wasn’t looking so good anymore. Something had been tarnished from University and I couldn’t pretend that my trajectory to success was going to be one clear straight line to the top. I’d hit rock bottom and was picking up the condom rappers and dirty Kleenex to show it.

There have been many times in my career when I’ve been very close to throwing in the towel and becoming a real-estate agent or a tour guide.  At each one of those moments of genuine universal surrender something miraculous always happens. That year it was a letter of acceptance from the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York. By now my father, less convinced that I could make a go of it, made me a deal. If I could find a place to live in Manhattan within a week, he would allow me to go. So, I boarded the train in Buffalo and headed for the Big Apple.

I arrived in New York at around 2:00 PM on a very, very hot day in August. I walked straight to the library, took out the Village Voice, circled an advertisement seeking a room-mate for a four-bedroom brownstone on the Upper West Side, was interviewed at 7:00 PM and secured my living accommodations within twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter to me that I had no idea who the three men I’d be living with were. The place was nice and the price was right. I think I heard my father drop the phone when I called to tell him that I had accomplished the impossible. Studying in New York proved to be the best and possibly the worst thing that ever happened to me. I developed a philosophy of acting that has served me in every way, but it also created a high standard that hasn’t always been easy to live up to.

_________________________________________________________

A few years ago, I was invited to direct a production of Blue Stockings at the same University I had so unceremoniously departed from those many years ago. Parallel universes collided as images of my past kept imposing themselves on the present. There was the quad I had been initiated in. There was the building where I’d slept and laughed and cried. There was my window with the view of the cemetery and McDonalds. There was the library where I looked up the address of every theatre school in New York. There was the theatre I did my practicum in, all pretty much the same as the day I left it. The walls, hallways, buildings hadn’t changed, but I had. I didn’t need reassurance anymore. I didn’t need someone to tell me what I wasn’t or couldn’t be. If only we could teach students the value of tenacity and resilience.

I enjoyed directing that class. I hope I encouraged and inspired them. I was happy when they came to rehearsals in sweats and tee shirts, less concerned about how they looked than we had been. More confident in their choices. More involved. On Opening night after the cheers and flowers and the congratulations, it felt good to climb into the car and head for home. I’m not cut out for institutions. I don’t like the brick and the neon and the bureaucracy. Still, it was good to make my peace with that time in my life. On the four-hour drive to Niagara I was thinking about the young people I had just worked with making the transition from student to actor. Maybe some of them will end up in New York. Maybe not. The thing about acting is it can take you anywhere…from Romper Room to the stars with a few tacky hotels in between.

#actress #new york #university #self esteem

[blackkudos]

Sarah Vaughan

Sarah Lois Vaughan (March 27, 1924 – April 3, 1990) was an American jazz singer.

Nicknamed "Sassy" and "The Divine One", she won four Grammy Awards, including the Lifetime Achievement Award. She was given an NEA Jazz Masters Award in 1989. Critic Scott Yanow wrote that she had "one of the most wondrous voices of the 20th century".

Early life

Vaughan's father, Asbury "Jake" Vaughan, was a carpenter by trade and played guitar and piano. Her mother, Ada Vaughan, was a laundress who sang in the church choir. The Vaughans lived in a house on Brunswick Street in Newark for Vaughan's entire childhood. Jake was deeply religious. The family was active in New Mount Zion Baptist Church at 186 Thomas Street. Vaughan began piano lessons at the age of seven, sang in the church choir, and played piano for rehearsals and services.

She developed an early love for popular music on records and the radio. In the 1930s, she frequently saw local and touring bands at the Montgomery Street Skating Rink. By her mid-teens, she began venturing illegally into Newark's night clubs and performing as a pianist and singer at the Piccadilly Club and the Newark Airport.

Vaughan attended East Side High School, then transferred to Newark Arts High School, which opened in 1931. As her nocturnal adventures as a performer overwhelmed her academic pursuits, she dropped out of high school during her junior year to concentrate on music.

Career

1942–43: Early career

Vaughan was frequently accompanied by a friend, Doris Robinson, on her trips into New York City. In the fall of 1942, by which time she was 18 years old, Vaughan suggested that Robinson enter the Apollo Theater Amateur Night contest. Vaughan played piano accompaniment for Robinson, who won second prize. Vaughan later decided to go back and compete as a singer herself. She sang "Body and Soul", and won—although the date of this victorious performance is uncertain. The prize, as Vaughan recalled to Marian McPartland, was $10 and the promise of a week's engagement at the Apollo. On November 20, 1942, she returned to the Apollo to open for Ella Fitzgerald.

During her week of performances at the Apollo, Vaughan was introduced to bandleader and pianist Earl Hines, although the details of that introduction are disputed. Billy Eckstine, Hines' singer at the time, has been credited by Vaughan and others with hearing her at the Apollo and recommending her to Hines. Hines claimed later to have discovered her himself and offered her a job on the spot. After a brief tryout at the Apollo, Hines replaced his female singer with Vaughan on April 4, 1943.

1943–44: Earl Hines and Billy Eckstine

Vaughan spent the remainder of 1943 and part of 1944 touring the country with the Earl Hines big band, which featured Billy Eckstine. She was hired as a pianist so Hines could hire her under the jurisdiction of the musicians' union (American Federation of Musicians) rather than the singers union (American Guild of Variety Artists). But after Cliff Smalls joined the band as a trombonist and pianist, her duties were limited to singing. The Earl Hines band in this period is remembered as an incubator of bebop, as it included trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, saxophonist Charlie Parker (playing tenor saxophone rather than alto), and trombonist Bennie Green. Gillespie arranged for the band, although the contemporary recording ban by the musicians' union meant that no commercial recordings exist.

Eckstine quit the Hines band in late 1943 and formed a big band with Gillespie, leaving Hines to become the band's musical director. Parker joined Eckstine, and over the next few years the band included Gene Ammons, Art Blakey, Miles Davis, Kenny Dorham, Dexter Gordon, and Lucky Thompson. Vaughan accepted Eckstine's invitation to join his band in 1944, giving her the opportunity to record for the first time on December 5, 1944, on the song. "I'll Wait and Pray" for De Luxe. Critic and producer Leonard Feather asked her to record later that month for Continental with a septet that included Dizzy Gillespie and Georgie Auld. She left the Eckstine band in late 1944 to pursue a solo career, although she remained close to Eckstine and recorded with him frequently.

Pianist John Malachi is credited with giving Vaughan the moniker "Sassy", a nickname that matched her personality. She liked it, and the name and its shortened variant "Sass" stuck with colleagues and the press. In written communications, Vaughan often spelled it "Sassie".

1945–48: Early solo career

Vaughan began her solo career in 1945 by freelancing on 52nd Street in New York City at the Three Deuces, the Famous Door, the Downbeat, and the Onyx Club. She spent time at Braddock Grill next to the Apollo Theater in Harlem. On May 11, 1945, she recorded "Lover Man" for Guild with a quintet featuring Gillespie and Parker with Al Haig on piano, Curly Russell on double bass, and Sid Catlett on drums. Later that month, she went into the studio with a slightly different and larger Gillespie/Parker aggregation and recorded three more sides.

After being invited by violinist Stuff Smith to record the song "Time and Again" in October 1945, Vaughan was offered a contract to record for Musicraft by owner Albert Marx, although she would not begin recording as a leader for Musicraft until May 7, 1946. In the intervening time, she recorded for Crown and Gotham and began performing regularly at Café Society Downtown, an integrated club in New York's Sheridan Square.

While at Café Society, Vaughan became friends with trumpeter George Treadwell, who became her manager. She delegated to him most of the musical director responsibilities for her recording sessions, allowing her to concentrate on singing. Over the next few years, Treadwell made changes in Vaughan's stage appearance. Aside from a new wardrobe and hair style, she had her teeth capped, eliminating a gap between her two front teeth.

Her recordings for Musicraft included "If You Could See Me Now" (written and arranged by Tadd Dameron), "Don't Blame Me", "I've Got a Crush on You", "Everything I Have Is Yours" and "Body and Soul". With Vaughan and Treadwell's professional relationship on solid footing, the couple married on September 16, 1946.

In 1947, Vaughan performed at the third Cavalcade of Jazz concert held at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles which was produced by Leon Hefflin, Sr. on September 7, 1947. The Valdez Orchestra, The Blenders, T-Bone Walker, Slim Gaillard, The Honeydrippers, Johnny Otis and his Orchestra, Woody Herman, and the Three Blazers also performed that same day.

Vaughan's recording success for Musicraft continued through 1947 and 1948. Her recording of "Tenderly"—she was proud to be the first to have recorded that jazz standard—became an unexpected pop hit in late 1947. Her December 27, 1947, recording of "It's Magic" (from the Doris Day film Romance on the High Seas) found chart success in early 1948. Her recording of "Nature Boy" from April 8, 1948, became a hit around the time the popular Nat King Cole version was released. Because of a second recording ban by the musicians' union, "Nature Boy" was recorded with an a cappella choir.

1948–53: Stardom and the Columbia years

The musicians' union ban pushed Musicraft to the brink of bankruptcy. Vaughan used the missed royalty payments as an opportunity to sign with the larger Columbia record label. After the settling of legal issues, her chart successes continued with "Black Coffee" in the summer of 1949. While at Columbia through 1953, she was steered almost exclusively to commercial pop ballads, several with success on the charts: "That Lucky Old Sun", "Make Believe (You Are Glad When You're Sorry)", "I'm Crazy to Love You", "Our Very Own", "I Love the Guy", "Thinking of You" (with pianist Bud Powell), "I Cried for You", "These Things I Offer You", "Vanity", "I Ran All the Way Home", "Saint or Sinner", "My Tormented Heart", and "Time".

She won Esquire magazine's New Star Award for 1947, awards from Down Beat magazine from 1947 to 1952, and from Metronome magazine from 1948 to 1953. Recording and critical success led to performing opportunities, with Vaughan singing to large crowds in clubs around the country during the late 1940s and early 1950s. In the summer of 1949, she made her first appearance with a symphony orchestra in a benefit for the Philadelphia Orchestra entitled "100 Men and a Girl." Around this time, Chicago disk jockey Dave Garroway coined a second nickname for her, "The Divine One", that would follow her throughout her career. One of her early television appearances was on DuMont's variety show Stars on Parade (1953–54) in which she sang "My Funny Valentine" and "Linger Awhile".

In 1949, with their finances improving, Vaughan and Treadwell bought a three-story house on 21 Avon Avenue in Newark, occupying the top floor during their increasingly rare off-hours at home and moving Vaughan's parents to the lower two floors. However, business pressures and personality conflicts led to a cooling in Treadwell and Vaughan's relationship. Treadwell hired a road manager to handle her touring needs and opened a management office in Manhattan so he could work with other clients.

Vaughan's relationship with Columbia soured as she became dissatisfied with the commercial material and its lackluster financial success. She made some small-group recordings in 1950 with Miles Davis and Bennie Green, but they were atypical of what she recorded for Columbia.

Radio

In 1949, Vaughan had a radio program, Songs by Sarah Vaughan, on WMGM in New York City. The 15-minute shows were broadcast in the evenings on Wednesday through Sunday from The Clique Club, described as "rendezvous of the bebop crowd." She was accompanied by George Shearing on piano, Oscar Pettiford on double bass, and Kenny Clarke on drums.

1954–59: Mercury years

In 1953, Treadwell negotiated a contract for Vaughan with Mercury in which she would record commercial material for Mercury and jazz-oriented material for its subsidiary, EmArcy. She was paired with producer Bob Shad, and their working relationship yielded commercial and artistic success. Her debut recording session at Mercury took place in February 1954. She remained with Mercury through 1959. After recording for Roulette from 1960 to 1963, she returned to Mercury from 1964 to 1967.

Her commercial success at Mercury began with the 1954 hit "Make Yourself Comfortable", recorded in the fall of 1954, and continued with "How Important Can It Be" (with Count Basie), "Whatever Lola Wants", "The Banana Boat Song", "You Ought to Have a Wife", and "Misty". Her commercial success peaked in 1959 with "Broken Hearted Melody", a song she considered "corny" which nevertheless became her first gold record, and a regular part of her concert repertoire for years to come. Vaughan was reunited with Billy Eckstine for a series of duet recordings in 1957 that yielded the hit "Passing Strangers". Her commercial recordings were handled by a number of arrangers and conductors, primarily Hugo Peretti and Hal Mooney.

The jazz "track" of her recording career proceeded apace, backed either by her working trio or combinations of jazz musicians. One of her favorite albums was a 1954 sextet date that included Clifford Brown.

In the latter half of the 1950s she followed a schedule of almost non-stop touring. She was featured at the first Newport Jazz Festival in the summer of 1954 and starred in subsequent editions of that festival at Newport and in New York City for the remainder of her life. In the fall of 1954, she performed at Carnegie Hall with the Count Basie Orchestra on a bill that also included Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker, Lester Young and the Modern Jazz Quartet. That fall, she again toured Europe before embarking on a "Big Show" U.S. tour, a succession of performances that included Count Basie, George Shearing, Erroll Garner and Jimmy Rushing. At the 1955 New York Jazz Festival on Randalls Island, Vaughan shared the bill with the Dave Brubeck quartet, Horace Silver, Jimmy Smith, and the Johnny Richards Orchestra.

Although the professional relationship between Vaughan and Treadwell was quite successful through the 1950s, their personal relationship finally reached a breaking point and she filed for a divorce in 1958. Vaughan had entirely delegated financial matters to Treadwell, and despite significant income figures reported through the 1950s, at the settlement Treadwell said that only $16,000 remained. The couple evenly divided the amount and their personal assets, terminating their business relationship.

1959–69: Atkins and Roulette

The exit of Treadwell from Vaughan's life was precipitated by the entry of Clyde "C.B." Atkins, a man of uncertain background whom she had met in Chicago and married on September 4, 1959. Although Atkins had no experience in artist management or music, Vaughan wished to have a mixed professional and personal relationship like the one she had with Treadwell. She made Atkins her manager, although she was still feeling the sting of the problems she had with Treadwell and initially kept a closer eye on Atkins. Vaughan and Atkins moved into a house in Englewood, New Jersey.

When Vaughan's contract with Mercury ended in late 1959, she signed on with Roulette, a small label owned by Morris Levy, who was one of the backers of Birdland, where she frequently appeared. She began recording for Roulette in April 1960, making a string of large ensemble albums arranged or conducted by Billy May, Jimmy Jones, Joe Reisman, Quincy Jones, Benny Carter, Lalo Schifrin, and Gerald Wilson. She had pop chart success in 1960 with "Serenata" on Roulette and "Eternally" and "You're My Baby", a couple of residual tracks from her Mercury contract. She recorded After Hours (1961) with guitarist Mundell Lowe and double bassist George Duvivier and Sarah + 2 (1962) with guitarist Barney Kessel and double bassist Joe Comfort.

In 1961 Vaughan and Atkins adopted a daughter, Deborah Lois Atkins, known professionally as Paris Vaughan. However, the relationship with Atkins proved difficult and violent. After several incidents, she filed for divorce in November 1963. She turned to two friends to help sort out the financial affairs of the marriage. Club owner John "Preacher" Wells, a childhood acquaintance, and Clyde "Pumpkin" Golden Jr. discovered that Atkins' gambling and spending had put Vaughan around $150,000 in debt. The Englewood house was seized by the IRS for nonpayment of taxes. Vaughan retained custody of their child and Golden took Atkins' place as Vaughan's manager and lover for the remainder of the decade.

When her contract with Roulette ended in 1963, Vaughan returned to the more familiar confines of Mercury. In the summer of 1963, she went to Denmark with producer Quincy Jones to record Sassy Swings the Tivoli, an album of live performances with her trio. During the next year, she made her first appearance at White House for President Lyndon Johnson. The Tivoli recording would be the brightest moment of her second stint with Mercury. Changing demographics and tastes in the 1960s left jazz musicians with shrinking audiences and inappropriate material. Although she retained a following large and loyal enough to maintain her career, the quality and quantity of her recorded output dwindled as her voice darkened and her skill remained undiminished. At the conclusion of her Mercury deal in 1967, she lacked a recording contract for the remainder of the decade.

1970–82: Fisher and Mainstream

In 1971, at the Tropicana in Las Vegas, Marshall Fisher was a concession stand employee and fan when he was introduced to Sarah Vaughan. They were attracted to each other immediately. Fisher moved in with her in Los Angeles. Although he was white and seven years older, he got along with her friends and family. Although he had no experience in the music business, he became her road manager, then personal manager. But unlike other men and managers, Fisher was devoted to her and meticulously managed her career and treated her well. He wrote love poems to her.

In 1971, Bob Shad, who had worked with her as producer at Mercury, asked her to record for his label, Mainstream, which he had founded after leaving Mercury. Breaking a four-year hiatus, Vaughan signed a contract with Mainstream and returned to the studio for A Time in My Life, a step away from jazz into pop music with songs by Bob Dylan, John Lennon, and Marvin Gaye arranged by Ernie Wilkins. She didn't complain about this eclectic change in direction, but she chose the material for her next album after admiring the work of Michel Legrand. He conducted an orchestra of over one hundred musicians for Sarah Vaughan with Michel Legrand, an album of compositions by Legrand with lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman. The songs brought some of the musicians to tears during the sessions. But Shad wanted a hit, and the album yielded none. She sang a version of the pop hit "Rainy Days and Mondays" by the Carpenters for Feelin' Good. This was followed by Live in Japan, her first live album since 1963. Sarah Vaughan and the Jimmy Rowles Quintet (1974) was more experimental, containing free improvisation and some unconventional scatting.

Send in the Clowns was another attempt to increase sales by breaking into the pop music market. Vaughan disliked the songs and hated the album cover depicting a clown with an afro. She filed a lawsuit against Shad in 1975 on the belief that the cover was inconsistent with the formal, sophisticated image she projected on stage. She also contended that the album Sarah Vaughan: Live at the Holiday Inn Lesotho had an incorrect title and that Shad had been harming her career. Although she disliked the album, she liked the song "Send in the Clowns" written by Steven Sondheim for the musical A Little Night Music. She learned it on piano, made many changes with the help of pianist Carl Schroeder, and it became her signature song.

In 1974, she performed music by George Gershwin at the Hollywood Bowl with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. The orchestra was conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas, who was a fan of Vaughan and invited her to perform. Thomas and Vaughan repeated the performance with Thomas' home orchestra in Buffalo, New York, followed by appearances in 1975 and 1976 with other symphony orchestras in the United States.

After leaving Mainstream, she signed with Atlantic and worked on an album of songs by John Lennon and Paul McCartney that were arranged by Marty Paich and his son, David Paich of the rock band Toto. She was enthusiastic to be more involved in the making of an album, but Atlantic rejected it on the claim that it contained no hits. "I don't know how they can recognize hits in advance", she said. Atlantic canceled her contract. She said, "I don't give a damn about record companies any more".

Rio and Norman Granz

In 1977, filmmaker Thomas Guy followed Vaughan on tour to film the documentary Listen to the Sun. She traveled throughout South America: Argentina, Columbia, Chile, Ecuador, and Peru. She was enamored of Brazil, as this was her third tour of Brazil in six years. In the documentary she called the city of Rio "the greatest place I think I've ever been on earth". Audiences were so enthusiastic that she said, "I don't believe they like me that much." After rejection by Atlantic, she wanted to try producing her own album of Brazilian music. She asked Aloísio de Oliveira to run the sessions and recorded I Love Brazil! with Milton Nascimento, Jose Roberto Bertrami, Dorival Caymmi, and Antonio Carlos Jobim.

She had an album but no label to release it, so she signed to Pablo run by Norman Granz. She had known Granz since 1948 when she performed on one of his Jazz at the Philharmonic tours. He was the record producer and manager for Ella Fitzgerald and the owner of Verve. After selling Verve, he started Pablo. He was dedicated to acoustic, mainstream jazz and had recorded Count Basie, Duke Ellington, and Clark Terry. In 1978 he recorded Vaughan's How Long Has This Been Going On?, a set of jazz standards with veteran jazz musicians Oscar Peterson, Joe Pass, Ray Brown, and Louis Bellson. The album was nominated for a Grammy Award. Pablo released I Love Brazil! and it, too, was nominated for a Grammy.

1982–89: Late career

In the summer of 1980 she received a plaque on 52nd Street outside the CBS Building (Black Rock) commemorating the jazz clubs she had once frequented on "Swing Street" and which had long since been replaced with office buildings. A performance of her symphonic Gershwin program with the New Jersey Symphony in 1980 was broadcast on PBS and won her an Emmy Award the next year for Individual Achievement, Special Class. She was reunited in 1982 with Tilson Thomas for a modified version of the Gershwin program, played again by the Los Angeles Philharmonic but this time in its home hall, the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion; the CBS recording of the concert Gershwin Live! won a Grammy for Best Jazz Vocal Performance, Female.

After the end of her contract with Pablo in 1982, she committed to a limited number of studio recordings. She made a guest appearance in 1984 on Barry Manilow's 2:00 AM Paradise Cafe, an album of pastiche compositions with established jazz musicians. In 1984, she participated in The Planet is Alive, Let It Live a symphonic piece composed by Tito Fontana and Sante Palumbo on Italian translations of Polish poems by Karol Wojtyla, better known as Pope John Paul II. The recording was made in Germany with an English translation by writer Gene Lees and was released by Lees on his private label after the recording was rejected by the major labels.

In 1985 Vaughan reconnected with her longstanding, continually growing European audience during a celebratory concert at the Chatelet Theater in Paris. Released posthumously on the Justin Time label, In the City of Lights is a two-disc recording of the concert, which covers the highlights of Vaughan's career while capturing a beloved singer at the height of her powers. Thanks in part to the hard-swinging telepathic support of pianist Frank Collett (who answers each of her challenges then coaxes the same from her), Sarah reprises Tad Dameron's "If You Could See Me Now" with uncommon power, her breathstream effecting a seamless connection between chorus and bridge. For the Gershwin Medley, drummer Harold Jones swaps his brushes for sticks to match energy and forcefulness that does not let up until the last of many encores.

In 1986, Vaughan sang "Happy Talk" and "Bali Ha'i" in the role of Bloody Mary on a studio recording by Kiri Te Kanawa and José Carreras of the score of the Broadway musical South Pacific, while sitting on the studio floor. Vaughan's final album was Brazilian Romance, produced by Sérgio Mendes with songs by Milton Nascimento and Dori Caymmi. It was recorded primarily in the early part of 1987 in New York and Detroit. In 1988, she contributed vocals to an album of Christmas carols recorded by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with the Utah Symphony Orchestra and sold in Hallmark Cards stores. In 1989, Quincy Jones' album Back on the Block included Vaughan in a brief scatting duet with Ella Fitzgerald. This was her final studio recording. It was her only studio recording with Fitzgerald in a career that had begun 46 years earlier opening for Fitzgerald at the Apollo.

The video Sarah Vaughan Live from Monterey was taped in 1983 or 1984 with her trio and guest soloists. Sass and Brass was taped in 1986 in New Orleans with guests Dizzy Gillespie and Maynard Ferguson. Sarah Vaughan: The Divine One was part of the American Masters series on PBS. Also in 1986, on Independence Day in a program nationally televised on PBS she performed with the National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Mstislav Rostropovich, in a medley of songs composed by George Gershwin.

Death

In 1989, Vaughan's health began to decline, although she rarely revealed any hints of this in her performances. She canceled a series of engagements in Europe in 1989, citing the need to seek treatment for arthritis of the hand, although she was able to complete a series of performances in Japan. During a run at New York's Blue Note Jazz Club in 1989, she was diagnosed with lung cancer and was too ill to finish the last day of what would turn out to be her final series of public performances.

Vaughan returned to her home in California to begin chemotherapy and spent her final months alternating stays in the hospital and at home. She grew weary of the struggle and demanded to be taken home, where at the age of 66 she died on the evening of April 3, 1990, while watching a television movie featuring her daughter.

Her funeral was held at Mount Zion Baptist Church, 208 Broadway in Newark, New Jersey. Following the ceremony, a horse-drawn carriage transported her body to Glendale Cemetery, Bloomfield in New Jersey.

Comments about her voice

Parallels have been drawn between Vaughan's voice and that of opera singers. Jazz singer Betty Carter said that with training Vaughan could have "...gone as far as Leontyne Price." Bob James, Vaughan's musical director in the 1960s said that "...the instrument was there. But the knowledge, the legitimacy of that whole world were not for her ... But if the aria were in Sarah's range she could bring something to it that a classically trained singer could not."

In a chapter devoted to Vaughan in his book Visions of Jazz (2000), critic Gary Giddins described her as the "...ageless voice of modern jazz – of giddy postwar virtuosity, biting wit and fearless caprice". He concluded by saying that "No matter how closely we dissect the particulars of her talent ... we must inevitably end up contemplating in silent awe the most phenomenal of her attributes, the one she was handed at birth, the voice that happens once in a lifetime, perhaps once in several lifetimes."

Her obituary in The New York Times described her as a "singer who brought an operatic splendor to her performances of popular standards and jazz." Jazz singer Mel Tormé said that she had "...the single best vocal instrument of any singer working in the popular field." Her ability was envied by Frank Sinatra who said, "Sassy is so good now that when I listen to her I want to cut my wrists with a dull razor." New York Times critic John S. Wilson said in 1957 that she possessed "what may well be the finest voice ever applied to jazz." It was close to its peak until shortly before her death at the age of 66. Late in life she retained a "youthful suppleness and remarkably luscious timbre" and was capable of the projection of coloratura passages described as "delicate and ringingly high".

Vaughan had a large vocal range of soprano through a female baritone, exceptional body, volume, a variety of vocal textures, and superb and highly personal vocal control. Her ear and sense of pitch were almost perfect, and there were no difficult intervals.

In her later years her voice was described as a "burnished contralto" and as her voice deepened with age her lower register was described as having "shades from a gruff baritone into a rich, juicy contralto". Her use of her contralto register was likened to "dipping into a deep, mysterious well to scoop up a trove of buried riches." Musicologist Henry Pleasants noted, "Vaughan who sings easily down to a contralto low D, ascends to a pure and accurate [soprano] high C."

Vaughan's vibrato was described as "an ornament of uniquely flexible size, shape and duration," a vibrato described as "voluptuous" and "heavy" Vaughan was accomplished in her ability to "fray" or "bend" notes at the extremities of her vocal range. It was noted in a 1972 performance of Leslie Bricusse and Lionel Bart's "Where Is Love?" that "In mid-tune she began twisting the song, swinging from the incredible cello tones of her bottom register, skyrocketing to the wispy pianissimos of her top."

She held a microphone in live performance, using its placement as part of her performance. Her placings of the microphone allowed her to complement her volume and vocal texture, often holding the microphone at arm's length and moving it to alter her volume.

She frequently used the song "Send in the Clowns" to demonstrate her vocal abilities in live performance. The performance was called a "three-octave tour de force of semi-improvisational pyrotechnics in which the jazz, pop and operatic sides of her musical personality came together and found complete expression" by The New York Times.

Singers influenced by Vaughan include Phoebe Snow, Anita Baker, Sade, and Rickie Lee Jones. Singers Carmen McRae and Dianne Reeves both recorded tribute albums to Vaughan following her death; Sarah: Dedicated to You (1991) and The Calling: Celebrating Sarah Vaughan (2001) respectively.

Though usually considered a jazz singer, Vaughan avoided classifying herself as one. She discussed the term in a 1982 interview for Down Beat:

I don't know why people call me a jazz singer, though I guess people associate me with jazz because I was raised in it, from way back. I'm not putting jazz down, but I'm not a jazz singer ... I've recorded all kinds of music, but (to them) I'm either a jazz singer or a blues singer. I can't sing a blues – just a right-out blues – but I can put the blues in whatever I sing. I might sing 'Send In the Clowns' and I might stick a little bluesy part in it, or any song. What I want to do, music-wise, is all kinds of music that I like, and I like all kinds of music.

Personal life

Vaughan was married three times: to George Treadwell (1946–1958), to Clyde Atkins (1958–1961), and to Waymon Reed (1978–1981). Unable to bear children, Vaughan adopted a baby girl (Debra Lois) in 1961. Debra worked in the 1980s and 1990s as an actress under the name Paris Vaughan.

In 1977, Vaughan ended her personal and professional relationship with Marshall Fisher. Although Fisher is occasionally referenced as Vaughan's third husband, they were never legally married. Vaughan began a relationship with Waymon Reed, a trumpet player 16 years her junior who was playing with the Count Basie band. Reed joined her working trio as a musical director and trumpet player, and became her third husband in 1978.

She was a member of the Zeta Phi Beta sorority.

Awards and honors

The album Sarah Vaughan with Clifford Brown and the single "If You Could See Me Now" were inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame, an award established in 1973 to honor recordings that are at least twenty-five years old and have "qualitative or historical significance." In 1985 she received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and in 1988 she was inducted into the American Jazz Hall of Fame.

In 1978, she was given an Honorary Doctorate of Music by Berklee College of Music.

In 2012, she was inducted into the New Jersey Hall of Fame. In 2004–2006, New Jersey Transit paid tribute to Vaughan in the design of its Newark Light Rail stations. Passengers stopping at any station on this line can read the lyrics to "Body and Soul" along the edge of the station platform.

She was given the George and Ira Gershwin Award for Lifetime Musical Achievement, UCLA Spring Sing.

San Francisco and Berkeley, California, made March 27 Sarah Lois Vaughan Day.

#03/27 #04/03

[shimmershaewrites]

Fourth Quarter, Chapter 1 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Sorry.  I am so sorry, lol.

  Title:   Fourth Quarter

Rating:  M. 

Warnings:  adult language. 

Characters/Pairings:  Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon, Sophia Peletier, original character, Jenny Jones, June Dorie, Pete Anderson, mention Morgan Jones and John Dorie, Luke, Carl Grimes, mentions of Judith Grimes, Tyreese Williams, Duane Jones, mention of Eastman, T-Dog, Axel. 

Prompt(s) used:  “Do you trust me?”    

Author’s Note:  inspired by a little drabble in my Across the Universe(s) drabble series—“Quit stalling.”  Apologies for the sucktacular title and the fact that I’m jumping off the deep end and starting another story.  Clearly, I’m losing it.  But whatever.  I made words.  So it’s a lose-win situation, lol.  Also, in case you didn’t notice, I brought over a couple of friends from Fear and I’m keeping my options open about bringing over more.  We shall see.  Anyway.  Fingers crossed this somehow breaks up the log jam that is currently the state of Waltzing.  I miss writing that story so freaking much. 

          Dr. Pete Anderson didn’t like kids. 

  Carol had it figured out within two seconds of meeting the man, his so-called secret.  His absolute, lip-curling distaste for the parade of little humans that were the King County clinic’s bread and butter was that apparent.  Hard to miss really and ironic considering.    

  Those frequently possessed of snotty noses and tiny hands that were somehow, some impossible way always sticky were both the bane of his existence and the source of much of his livelihood. 

  She couldn’t help but wonder how someone that couldn’t even be bothered to open up his heart to the frightened tears that inevitably came from being thrust into a place so cold and sterile and generally unwelcoming as their place of employment possessed one at all.  Most likely, she supposed, his chest was hollow and a big cavernous nothing occupied the space where the faulty organ should be.  Yes, most likely.  Too bad he worked every Monday.  As did she. 

  “Did somebody get me the goddamn labs I asked for?!” 

  The question yelled so near to her ear was all the warning Carol had before a mug of coffee was unceremoniously slammed down in front of her, causing her to flinch.  She watched with dismay as the bitter black brew sloshed over the ceramic edge, instantly soaking into the printed labs in question, and took in a deep breath in an effort to fortify herself for what she knew was coming.  Thankfully, her coworker stepped in to prevent her from falling onto her figurative sword.  

  “The printer’s jammed again, Sir.” 

  Jenny Jones was one of the most even-tempered individuals Carol had ever met.  Whether she was helping keep a toddler calm while they had a lost Flintstone vitamin fished out of their nose or explaining to a patient that body spray was not meant to be used internally via the rectum, she always wore the same placid expression.  She wore it now, even in the face of Dr. Anderson’s poorly reigned in rage at humanity at large.    

  “Thought the damn thing was fixed.” 

  “It was.  It isn’t now.  Noah’s working on it.” 

  “Who’s…know what?  Forget it.  I don’t care.  Just get me those labs.  Sometime today.”  With that, he stalked off to greet his next patient, continuing to grumble beneath his breath. 

  Finally, Carol felt like she could exhale, and she did, feeling a lot like a deflated balloon.  Or at least, the way she imagined a deflated balloon might feel.  “You’re too good to me.” 

  Jenny’s chair squeaked as she pushed it back from the desk.  Eyes brightened and lips twitching with humor, she replied, “You bring me cookies.  I would be crazy not to be.” 

  “Duane like the strawberry lemonade cookies?”   

  “Like them?” Jenny scoffed.  “That boy loved them.  At least the two his daddy let him have.  Morgan made me promise to get the recipe from you.  Told me to resort to blackmail if I had to.”  Shaking her head, she mused fondly, “That man.  He loves ya’ll’s cookies.” 

  “I’d worry about him if he didn’t.  Everybody loves Carol and Sophia’s cookies.”

                                                                                                                                                                                 Carol looked pointedly at her watch before returning their newcomer’s easy grin.  “Just get here when you can.”  June Dorie was a relative latecomer to the clinic staff, still an enigma in so many ways.  But she was capable, compassionate, and currently very much in love, and like Jenny before her?  Carol had relied on her instincts, welcoming her to cross that imaginary line separating coworker from friend.    

  Other than the precious pink blush belonging to only the happiest of newlyweds tinging her cheeks, June was unruffled by Carol’s teasing.  “Thank you.  I will.”  She did, however, wrinkle her nose at the sodden lump on the counter before her.  “What did I miss?” 

  Her answer came from the irate boss man himself.  “Where are my fucking labs?!”

  June winced.  “Happy Monday, huh?” 

  Carol grit her teeth to keep from letting a few choice words slip free.  Every Monday was a happy Monday when your least favorite doc was a Monday constant.  As if she needed more reason to hate them.  Not only that, the waiting room was starting to fill up, really fill up, right on cue.  Taking a page out of Jenny’s book, she took a deep, calming, let’s be zen breath, and pasted on what she hoped was a serene expression.  Unsurprisingly, she failed. 

  Sparing a second to stuff the ruined labs into the nearby shred box, Jenny dabbed at the mess left behind with a handful of Kleenex and shook her head.  “I see your wheels turning.  You’re on desk duty with Liza ‘til you quit plotting the good doctor’s demise.” 

  June smirked.  “Guess she’ll be out there forever then.” 

  “She might just be,” Jenny conceded.  “June?” 

  “Get the asshole his labs?” 

  “You said it.”   

        “And again!  We want to make Stevie and your parents proud!” 

  In unison, the entire sweaty, spent marching band groaned, and they groaned rather dramatically. 

  Perspiration prickling along his own scalp, the band director couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad.  Quite the contrary.  Depressing the button on the side of his megaphone, he blew out a long, drawn out groan of his own and deadpanned, “I felt that.  Take five everybody.” 

  “Five?!  But Mr. Fogler!” 

  “Alright, alright.  Fifteen and find some shade.” 

  Everybody scattered after that.  Almost everybody.  They needed no more prompting. 

  Sophia, however?  She stayed right where she was, sinking to the grass like a boneless slug bug and letting her eyes drift closed for a brief second.  She stifled a shriek when she felt something cold slither across the back of her exposed neck.  “What the…stop it, Carl.”  In spite of her grumbling, she gratefully took the bottle of water he held out in offering, tipping it back and taking a long swallow.  Shooting a wondering glance at the boy she’d long considered her best friend. 

  Carl dropped down beside her, mindful of the clarinet she’d cast almost carelessly aside.  He’d left his own snare drum where he stood in his haste to seek her out, and he stared at her now, his blue eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of his shades. 

  Sophia’s fingertips fluttered self-consciously over her freckled cheeks and the long auburn ponytail coiled carelessly atop her head.  “What?” 

  Carl’s lips remained zipped.  They merely curled in a barely even there smirk and he shrugged. 

  Sophia narrowed her eyes at him, wholly unconvinced of his truthfulness.  They’d known each other since they were both in pullups and the wait to get their respective drivers’ licenses was almost over.  Of course, he was lying.  Even if he was doing it without words.  “Carl Richard Grimes!” 

  “Did you just full name me?” 

  “I just full named you and I’ll do it again.”     

  “Ooooo.  I’m so scared.” 

  “Don’t be such a…”  Sophia floundered for a word adequate enough to express her frustration.  A good clean word because that’s the way her mama had raised her, but really.  None of them were very satisfying. 

  Carl laughed.  “You can’t do it, can you?”  

  “Know it all jerk.” 

  “But you’re my favorite Disney princess, Soph,” Carl said, snagging the forgotten water bottle from her hands and taking a swig of his own.  “Jude’s too.” 

  An unwelcome smile twitched at the edges of Sophia’s affected pout.  “Shut up.” 

  “Alright,” Carl agreed easily enough. 

  The silence didn’t last long, though.  He was back to his insufferable teasing before they’d had time enough to finish the water bottle between them, and that didn’t take long at all.  “Carl.  I mean it.  Stop.” 

  “Stop what?”  Snickering as he dodged her annoyed little fists, he feigned innocence, “I didn’t even say anything.” 

  “Yeah, well.  You didn’t have to.  Just spit it out.” 

  “You want to spit it out?  You really want me to?” 

   “Please,” Sophia huffed, leaning forward to wrap her arms protectively around her updrawn legs.  She steadfastly ignored Carl’s gaze as she waited for him to put his particular brand of Sophia-torture into words and it definitely wasn’t the sun heating her cheeks when she spit out her last little piece of pleading encouragement.  “Do.” 

  “This one time.  At band camp…” 

  “I swear to God, Carl,” Sophia muttered miserably.     

  “You know Mr. Fogler said shade right?  Not Cade.” 

      On the other end of the football field, the indirect source of Sophia Peletier’s current humiliation was sweating his balls off doing drills for a team he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be a part of.  And it showed. 

  Coach Williams’s deep voice carried, across the clashing bodies and sticky late summer heat.  “Mr. Phillips.  Do you or do you not want to be here?” 

  Hands braced on his hips, jersey clinging wetly to his heaving chest, Cade figured there was no pussyfooting around the truth.  That shit never did anybody no good.  “Presently?  No, Sir.  At least Satan’s ass crack would have shade.”

  Appreciative snickers swelled, rising and traveling from teammate to potential teammate like a wave, and Coach Williams showed a brief, scary flash of teeth before sobering up and making full use of his huge, intimidating linebacker build.  “That so?” 

  Cade knew better than to waltz right into that trap.  He’d become quite adept over the years of sidestepping trouble when it come looking, and until he proved otherwise, Coach Williams weren’t any different than any other coach or teacher.  So he clamped his mouth shut and dropped to give the man twenty unasked.  Or at least he tried to.  The man stopped him with a boot on his back before he got ten good pushups in, barking at the whole lot of them to take a long overdue break.  The grass felt prickly beneath his sweaty pits when his limp noodle arms gave out on him, but Cade didn’t care.  A bottle of orange Gatorade appeared out of thin air, and he’d guzzled nearly the whole thing before he bothered looking up to see where it actually came from. 

  A short, stocky black kid stared down at him, something like admiration on his face. 

  Heaving himself over onto his back with a groan, Cade muttered his gratitude and shielded his eyes from that look and the sun. Both of them were pretty damn blinding in their own way.  He recited a silent prayer that the boy, who he vaguely recognized as a freshman, would just fuck off and leave him alone.  Like most of his prayers, it went unanswered. 

  “I’m Duane.  You’re Cade.” 

  Forcibly swallowing the overwhelming urge to mock the kid right to his oblivious face, Cade merely grunted an affirmation and lifted his arm to get a better peek at him.  He felt an unexpected twinge of guilt when he took in the boy’s slumped posture.  “Running back right?” 

  “Like you.” 

  Hardly, but Cade kindly chose not to point it out.  Instead, he made small talk best as he knew how.  “Didn’t I hear you say your dad has his own martial arts place down on Main?” 

  “He’s partners with Mr. Eastman, but yeah.  You been there?” 

  “Nope, but I’ve thought about it.  Think you can talk him into cutting me a sweet deal?  Might be nice to learn different ways to kick some ass.”  Handy, considering he knew next to nobody in this one-horse town and in his experience?  It never took long for welcomes to be worn out.  He left that part unsaid, too. 

  “I…I don’t know.  But I think so.  I’ll have to see.” 

  “You get on that.” 

  “I will.” 

  “Hey, Water Boy.  Why don’t you shut your trap and do your damn job?” 

  Duane sighed and made to push himself to his feet, but Cade jerked him back down.  “Nah.  I got this.” 

  “You don’t have to.” 

  “Do you trust me?  We got us a deal, right?” 

  “Right.” 

  “K then.  Watch this.”  Cade winked, standing up and stretching to his full height.  “Hey, lazy asshole.  Why don’t you get your own fucking water?” 

      “Man, you been back in town, what?  Almost a month and I’m the only person knows it.  I’m not accusing you of hiding, but…” 

  Wiping his greasy hands on the red rag that never strayed far from his back pocket, Daryl virtually dared T-Dog to continue his train of thought.  T smartly refused to take the bait, dropping the subject and ambling on over to join him in admiring his handy work.

  “You trying to put those Gas Monkey dudes outta business.”    

  “Stahp.”   

  “You think I’m kidding?  I ain’t.  I knew you was good.  I just didn’t know you was this good.  And it ain’t even your day job.”  

  “Hear that, Boss?” Axel oh-so-helpfully piped up.  “It ain’t ya day job.” 

  “Don’t reckon nobody yanked your chain, Mr. Monopoly.  You got them brakes fixed yet?” 

  Axel hemmed and hawed, but in the end, he admitted he had a lot of work still left to do. 

  When Daryl turned his attention back to T-Dog, his old friend was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. 

  “Mr. Monopoly?” 

  “Yeah, well.  He shaves that shit off?  He’ll look more like the Planter’s Peanut.” 

  T-Dog guffawed, earning himself more than a couple dirty looks from the source of his endless amusement.  “Missed you ‘round these parts.  Can’t tell you how good it does me to see you back.  Even if I’ve never seen you leave these four walls.  How do you eat, Man?” 

  “Like an uncivilized pig,” Daryl deadpanned. 

  T’s grin stretched wide, but he was otherwise unperturbed.  “You said it.  Not me.”  Putting a few paces between them, he started absently inspecting some nearby tools.  “Little birdy down at the high school been talking.” 

  “Don’t ya mean tweeting?  That’s the big thing now,” Axel said, doing what he does best again.  Inserting himself into a conversation that didn’t involve him in the least.  “Tweeter.” 

  This time, T-Dog and Daryl both ignored him and Daryl was surprised to realize he wanted to hear more.  “Yeah?  What you been hearing?” 

  “Kid’s talented.  Going places if he decides to put in more effort.  If he keeps his nose clean and gives his school work the attention it deserves when classes start…” 

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Daryl muttered.  “I’m trying.  Even if he ain’t.” 

  “Hey, Man.  I get it.  You two?  Ya’ll still getting to know each other.  I can’t imagine what it feels like for either one of you.” 

  Axel couldn’t resist butting in one more time, and Daryl decided fuck it.  He nodded.  Just let him. 

  “Woman showed up on his doorstep and basically said congratulations, it’s a boy.  Your problem now.  Now he’s just as much a daddy as he is an uncle.  Ain’t fair if you ask me.  Got all the responsibility without getting to have any of the fun.” 

  Well, shit.  He hadn’t exactly thought about it in those particular terms, but the twitchy little bastard weren’t exactly wrong.  “Back to work.  Ain’t telling you no more.”  To T-Dog, he simply sighed and raked a tired hand over his unshaven face.  “I’m trying.  I am.” 

  “Kid’s gonna have to meet you halfway.” 

  “Try three quarters.” 

  “Axel!”   

#The Walking Dead #Caryl fanfiction #Caryl #Carol x Daryl #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #stuff that I write #mentions of lots of characters #hahaha #adult language

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Chapter 10

Title: Falling for the Holidays

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2685

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children.  However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Slight Angst, Some Explicit Language, Arguing, Misunderstandings.

A/N: HOLY SHMANOLY!! I took forever and a half on this chapter. I’ve just been on a major writer’s block, where I can think of the story and where I want to go, but when I make sentences, they’re just crap! UGH! I hope this chapter is decent, and I am so sorry for the wait. Thank you all for being so patient with me!! xx

Series Masterlist

The smell of coffee aroused you to consciousness. A smile spread across your lips as you thought about Mary starting up a fresh brew. Still a little incoherent to the world and reality, you stumbled out of bed in nothing but an oversized flannel, courtesy of one Dean Winchester, and underwear. As you exited your small space, you were interrupted from your morning daze.

“Nice outfit,” a strange yet familiar voice pierced through your eardrums. It only took a second for everything to come rushing back, and your body went stiff.

“Ketch!” You squeaked, running back into your room, peaking through the door. “I’m so sorry. My mind was elsewhere. For some reason, I thought I was back in Lawrence,” you bashfully confessed.

“Oh. No need to apologize. I very much enjoyed the view,” he grinned.

“Alright, mister. You think you’re so smooth,” you giggled, earning an even wider grin from the man in your kitchen.

“Actually, no. But I will humbly accept the compliment,” he winked. You rolled your eyes shutting the door, hearing him laugh as you did.

Changing into something more appropriate, you wondered into the bathroom to do your business. As you fixed your hair, your eyes landed on the spare toothbrush you specifically left out for Dean. Your stomach dropped and you felt your eyes swelling at the thought of him, but you forced it down. You and Dean were just friends. That was all you’ll ever be.

“Just friends, Y/N. Just friends,” you told your reflection, sighing in defeat.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you heard Ketch on the phone. “I know. I’ve got everything under control. It’s going just as predicted so would you calm down?!” His tone was soft, as if he was whispering. “I told you a deal is a deal. If this is my way out, then I’ll do it. You can have your little family, and I can finally be a free man.”

Free man? You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to. What did he mean by free man? And what deal? Who was he talking to? What little family?

“Ketch?” You called his name. It was barely noticeable, but there was no denying that he flinched at the sound of your voice.

“Oh, Y/N. One second,” he smiled before resuming his conversation. “I will check in later. I need to go.” He hung up the phone, smiling as he took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. That was a client of mine.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“No, it’s fine. I was talking in your home anyways. No need to apologize.”

“What did you mean about being a free man?” The words easily slipped out, your curiosity taking over. “Oh, sorry. You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine. Uh, you see… my client has been trying to get their hands on… a certain artifact that would… uh, I guess you can say, complete a collection of sorts. Once I get it, I’ll be a free man. She is just so anxious to have it before Christmas for her family. It’s a little frustrating. She doesn’t understand that I’ve got it all under control. I am the best at my job, so… I’m sorry. Look at me venting about my work. It must all seem rather boring.”

“Actually, no. Some times you just need to talk to someone, right?” You gave him a pointed look, reminding him about what he had done for you on the plane.

Ketch scoffed, the smile on his lips returning. “You’re right. Thank you for listening to me.”

“I usually am,” you joked, “and you’re welcome.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that. You seem like a smart and capable young woman. Any man would be honored to have you by their side. This best friend of yours made a terrible mistake by letting you go. I just hope the next man that gets to hold your heart, treats you the way you deserve.”

“Oh yeah? And how do I deserve to be treated?” You asked, shifting all your weight to one hip and crossing your arms.

“Like a queen,” he stated, as if it was the most natural answer to give.

You felt your cheeks heat up, turning your face away from him and distracting yourself by making a cup of coffee. “With charm like that, I bet you get all the girls, huh?”

“I like to think so. But I’m sure a woman as attractive as yourself have all the men flaunting all over you.”

“If you mean creeps, then yes,” you rolled your eyes, sniggering with disappointment.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope this creep,” he pointed to himself, “isn’t making you uncomfortable.”

“No! No, no, no! You are definitely not a creep,” you laughed, lightly hitting him on the arm.

Ketch chuckled. “That’s good to know. Unfortunately, I need to get going. If I could spend the whole day with you, I would, but my parent’s are wondering where I am. You’d think, now that I’m an adult, they’d worry less.”

“Tell you parent’s I said hi,” you smiled, earning one back from Ketch.

“Of course.”

Before Ketch left, the two of you exchanged numbers, making a promise that you would meet again. Once he was gone, you let out a drawn out sigh, shuffling towards the couch and flopping yourself down. You were feeling conflicted. All your mind could think about was mourning your chances with Dean, but with Ketch in the picture, it all seemed to conveniently perfect. You lost the love of your life, only to have another man show up that could possibly pick up all the pieces.

Suddenly, there was a loud and frantic knock on your door. It made your whole body jump, causing you to fall off the couch with an ungraceful thud.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Jo called from the other side of the door. “What was that noise?”

You rolled your eyes before picking yourself off the floor. With an immature huff, you headed towards the door, opening it to find a very worried Jo.

“Good Morning,” you smiled, the sarcasm easily portrayed in your tone of voice.

“Oh don’t give me that. I got a call from Sam this morning, saying I should go check up on you. What happened? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” If there was one thing Jo got from her mother, it was that sometimes she turned into her.

“Jeez, Mrs. Harv, everything is fine,” you mocked, “I don’t know what Sam told you, but I’m all good.”

“First of all, I am not my mother. So don’t call me that. And if everything is all honky-dory like you claim it is, then why are you and Dean home early?” Jo’s question surprised you a little. Dean was home? You thought you saw his truck last night, but Was that really him you saw?

“Dean?” you asked back.

“Yeah. Sam said he left a few hours after you.”

Jo’s confession made your stomach flip. The thought that Dean raced back to Dallas for you made you believe that, just maybe, he was going to choose you. That he was going to leave his first love and take a chance on a new one… a riskier one. One that had so much potential to be amazing and catastrophic.

“Look, Jo. Everything is all good, I promise. I appreciate you dropping by, but I just want to relax at home and get some homework and studying done before classes start up again tomorrow.”

Jo gave you a pointed look, one that let you know that she was judging you. “Okay… nerd.” She whispered the last part.

“Hey, Joanna Beth Harvelle, I heard that!” You scolded despite the smile on your face.

“Whoops! See ya later,” she smiled before leaving.

The rest of the day had you occupied with texting Ketch and your mind overthinking about Dean. You felt a little bad for dumping all your problems on your new friend, but you didn’t have anyone else that you could talk to about it. You didn’t know how to start to explain yourself to Sam or Jess, and you didn’t think you could ever face Mary or John ever again, without telling any of them the truth about yours and Dean’s relationship. Ketch, on the other hand, already new everything that happened aside from the real names of Dean and Lisa. At the time, you felt that he didn’t need to know anyone’s real names, but you were starting to rethink it. If Ketch somehow becomes a constant in your life, he’d eventually figure it all out. Might as well save him the confusion and lay it all out on the table.

The next day, classes resumed. You got ready for school and waited for Dean to pick you up, as usual. When the time started to get a little late, you called and texted him, but never got a reply. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten his phone, but he’s never been this late. By the time it was five minutes before your first class started, you relented to wait any longer and dashed out of your apartment… sprinting.

It was extremely cold out. Despite your strenuous travels there was no sweat dripping down your body. You were actually freezing, unable to feel your nose from it being unprotected to the winter air.

When you finally made to the campus, you were already seven minutes late. You weren’t angry, but you were frustrated that Dean failed to give you any sort of warning that he wasn’t going to show up. You were also angry at yourself for waiting for him as long as you did, but there was nothing you could do now.

Ten minutes. You were ten minutes late for class. Ten minutes didn’t seem like a lot, but when your first class was intense, you’ve practically missed three chapters.

Stepping through the door as late as you were, brought all the attention to you. “Miss Y/L/N, you’re late,” your professor scolded.

“Sorry Dr. Visyak. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not. Ask one of your classmates if they’re willing to lend you their notes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded, quickly taking your seat.

“Hey, what happened?” Your classmate, Clara, asked.

“Dean didn’t show up, so I ran here,” you briefly explained.

“That explains your red cheeks,” she noted. “Also, that doesn’t seem like a Dean thing to do.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he forgot.”

“Dean? Forget about you? I mean, the man always walks you to class.” Clara was right. This was very uncharacteristic of Dean, but you had no explanation.

“I don’t know. Maybe something happened? Now I’m getting a little worried.” Panic stirred within you. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was a possibility something happened.

“Why don’t you text one of your other friends,” Clara suggested.

“Great idea. Thanks.”

Pulling out your phone, you immediately texted Jo.

To: Jo Harvelle Hey Jo, did you see Dean this morning?

It took a while before she replied, which you understood. She was in class as well.

From: Jo Harvelle Yeah I did. Something happen between you to? Cass and I were wondering since you didn’t come with him. When we asked about it, he just changed the subject.

You stomach sank with worry. Was he mad at you? Did you do something wrong? Was it because you left so suddenly from his parent’s house?

To: Jo Harvelle Nothing happened, just caught a ride with a classmate of mine. Everything is all good.

Lies. It was all lies. Something did happen between you and Dean, you had to run to school, and nothing was good, because now you were sure Dean had to be mad at you.

From: Jo Harvelle OK. If you say so.

That was the end of your texting. Class went by in a blur and you had no idea what the day’s lesson was about, but thankfully, Clara was an intensive note taker. When lunch came around, you saw your group of friends, Dean included. He had his head down, not really interacting with the others, which was weird. Dean always had something to say, always had an opinion, or always had a bad joke up his sleeve for any given moment. Something was wrong.

“Hey guys,” you greeted with a smile, taking a seat next to Jo, not bothering to ask Dean about earlier that morning.

You were greeted by everyone present, beside Dean. Even Meg acknowledged you and you only met her a handful of times.

“Hey De—” You didn’t even get the chance to finish his name before he stood up to leave. In your group of friends, you never got embarrassed, but this time you did. Dean was supposed to be your partner in crime and here he was, pretending that you didn’t exist. It felt awkward, and you already knew that Jo, Cass, maybe Meg, were starting to make up their own assumptions. “Dean, hey!” You called out, but he ignored you again. “Dean!” When he didn’t respond, you went after him.

“Dude, where are you going?” You asked, walking beside him. “What’s wrong?” When he didn’t answer, you asked again.

“Nothing,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Now that’s a bunch of bull. C’mon. Talk to me.”

Suddenly he stopped, still close enough that the other’s had a clear view. “I said nothing!” He barked in your face, your eyes going wide.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?!” You retorted back. Never had anyone talked to you like that, and you weren’t going to start now, even if it was Dean. “Jo told me you came back for me and this is how you’re going to act? Like a fucking child?!”

“You know what? Yeah I did come back for you but clearly it was a mistake!” Dean shouted, gaining more than just your group of friend’s attention. “I thought you were better, but boy was I wrong. You’re just like all the other girls I fell for. Just a bunch of insecure girls who keep playing games.”

“Games? When the hell did I ever play games on you?” The audience growing around you didn’t bother you or Dean, in fact, it didn’t even register. You were too pissed with Dean to care, and Dean really didn’t care at all.

“I hope Ketch doesn’t get caught in your games?” Dean gritted, venom laced in every word. You were shocked.

“K-Ketch? How do you even know who that is?” You stuttered, surprised that he knew Ketch.

Dean scoffed, taking your speech impediment as a sign of you being caught. “I came over last night. It was late. Now I know why you couldn’t wait to leave Lawrence. Just so you could screw some guy like a slut! You chose some British douche bag over me and my family!”

Rage overtook you, and before you knew it, your hand swung across his face, leaving a vibrating sting coursing through your hand and up your arm. You were so overwhelmed with anger that you didn’t realize you were crying.

“Dean Winchester…” you started, your voice gravelly low, eyes looking down at your shoes. When you looked up, Dean’s wrath quickly turned into guilt. He hated seeing you cry, and now he was the reason for the tears. That was one thing he never wanted. He never meant to hurt you, but he was hurt too which didn’t allow him to think straight.

“Y/N…” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper.

“No,” you hissed, flinching your hand out of reach when he tried to grab it. “I never want to see, or speak to you, ever again!”

Dean took a step back, almost as if he had gotten shot, which would have been better than knowing he had hurt you really bad. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Before Dean could finish, you were already running off. Dean wanted to run after you, but he couldn’t. He felt too dead inside to do anything.

Say Something Nice Here!!

Falling for the Holidays Tags: @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @winchesterprincessbride @amanda-teaches @dancingalone21 @a-winchester-fairytale @dolphincliffs @oneshoeshort @brewsthespirit-blog @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @atc74 @natasha-baggins @heavymetalhauswife @linki-locks11 @spnwoman @veevm @chameleah86 @kdcollinsauthor @claitynroberts @roonyxx @rainflowermoon @ladylaylo @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93 @salt-n-burn-em-all @flamencodiva @fangirlanotherjust @tabbyjane @shamelesslydean @couldabeenamermaid @alexwinchester23 @algud @gracefultrenchcoat494 @prettyinplaid94 @shhhs3cret @cookiechipdough

#dean winchester x reader au #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean series #dean winchester series #spn #supernatural #falling for the holidays #squirrel-moose-winchester

[ariestaurus21]

Hawaii Five-0 Meta: Steve McGarrett, dialects, accents and Pidgin: why Steve doesn’t sound Hawaiian.

So while I was on vacation, I got to thinking... Steve McGarrett is a haloe, but he grew up in Hawaii, with Hawaiian kids, speaks pidgin and a bit of Hawaiian. So why doesn’t he sound Hawaiian? (other than the obvious TV reasons, of course). So, this is why, in my opinion.

As usual, please contribute!!

Here goes:

Steve McGarrett, dialects, accents and Pidgin

Steve is, technically and in my opinion, 2nd generation kama'aina.

His grandfather was transferred there after the war broke out in 39, before the US got involved of course but there were more troops in the Pacific before then. He moved his young wife there, bought some land on the shore, and built them a house, because they were going to have a baby.

They had a boy. John.  

Then, his wife got pregnant again.

Then, Pearl Harbor happened, Steven died, leaving behind a widow and two young kids. Steve's grandmother didn't remarry but didn't mean she raised John and Deb alone. Mamo Kahike's parents were neighbours and friendly, and they lent a hand.  

So John and Deb grew up as children of two worlds. Haole on the outside, they were, without a doubt in their minds, Hawaiian in their hearts. John follows his father's footsteps, joins the Navy and goes to war. Vietnam and all its nastiness. He's one of the lucky ones. He comes home with his soul mostly intact, lifelong friends and a wife.  

Doris is, as far as John knows, n English teacher that married a veteran of the Vietnam war who became a cop...  

Now, Doris taught English and she grew up on the mainland, so her accent was rather neutral, but John... Despite what canon shows us, John spoke like a Kama'aina, unless he made himself not, which is, in my opinion, Doris’s doing. She wanted her children to speak “proper” English.

Which brings us to Steve.  

He grew up in Hawaii, running around with Mamo's kids, other locals, and despite his Haole skin, he grew up full on Kama'aina. He speaks pidgin, and a good deal of Hawaiian, more than the show would have us believe. He knows all the local culture, the folklore, the customs.

Doing the Honi when he greets a local is normal for him. He doesn’t have to think about it. He just does it.

His mother taught him to speak “properly”. He can spell perfectly and his grammar is impeccable. He also learned to hide his accent, to sound neutral, as much as possible. As a SEAL and more so as Naval intelligence, anonymity is key. So, after 20 years in the Navy, it’s become second nature and he’s mostly lost his native Hawaiian accent.

He hasn’t lost his upbringing, his knowledge of the culture and the lore and customs. He’s forgotten a lot of the language, because that’s a lot of ‘use it or lose it’ type of thing, but there’s no doubt about it. Steve is Kama’aina. He’s a child of the Islands. He may look like a Haole, but in his heart, he belongs to the Islands.

Thoughts? I’m looking at you @sealie-seolh, @thekristen999, @missslothy, @bgharison, @littlebro-williams, @avictoriangirl, @msbeeinmybonnet, @lavvyan

#h50 #meta #steve mcgarrett #language #fic