WELP
I wrote this at like 1am because Daddy is an ebil, ebil man and we apparently always make the other write some form of crack every other week.
RPG, Jamie, Future Ickle #2 (because he and Rei totally have two girls THIS IS CANON, RIGHT RAERAE!?), I DONT EVEN KNOW.. !
She was five years old when she asked, “Daddy? Why do you have drawings on you?”
He’d been in the middle of yanking a clean shirt over his head, but stopped mid-way, one arm through a sleeve. He turned around and looked at her, all big eyes and chubby cheeks. Sighing, he pulled the shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed, waving her over. She crept forward and he scooped her up, disposing her on the bed beside him.
“You want to know why I have tattoos?” She nodded, hair swaying.
“Well, they’re to remember things. And for things that mean a lot.” He held out his right wrist to her, showing the theater masks there. “This is for my grandmother, she loved plays and art and music. She is why I paint and take pictures, this tattoo is to remember that.”
“Ooooh,” she cooed, the hopped up on the bed, moving around behind him. “And this one!” she asked, slapping a hand against his back, small fingers tracing the lines.
“That’s called a dreamcatcher, it helps you have good dreams, and keeps the bad ones out.”
“Did you have bad dreams?”
“I used to, not anymore.” He reached forward, tickling her until she couldn’t breathe. She finally swatted him away, taking in deep breaths.
“W-what about that one?” she gasped out, point at his shoulder.
“It’s kanji, you know that. Okaasan makes you practice every day.”
“But that’s it mean?” Jamie inwardly cringed. Well, for now she could know what it was supposed to mean, not what it actually meant… thanks to that hack tattoo artist, ‘open hooker,’ good god.
“Free spirit.”
She pondered for that moment, decided it wasn’t interesting enough for her, then crawled around him to point at his left bicep.
“It’s a quote from a man named Lord Byron that I always liked.” He looked at the words circling his arm, “The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain,” and wondered how he would explain the meaning to his daughter. He was happy when she seemed rather disinterested in words, and leaned over his lap to point at his right forearm.
“Why a knife?” she asked, quizzically looking at it.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said. She frowned up at him, nose crinkled in a way that distinctly reminded him of her mother.
“And that one!” She traced his left wrist. He smiled as she studied the kanji there before crying triumphantly. “Okaasan!”
“That’s right, it’s Okaasan’s name.” He smiled. “It’s on my left wrist because it leads to my heart.”
“Because you love Okaasan?”
“Because I love Okaasan.” She beamed up at him, then her eyes moved down to his chest where the final tattoo was. “And that?”
“You know the alphabet.” She frowned, studying the letters there. They didn’t make any word she knew.
“Initials, yours and your sister’s, right over my heart.”
“Because you love us?”
“Yes, because I love you.” She stood up, slightly wobbling on the bed, and flung her arms around his neck. Jamie pulled her in to a tight hug, pressing a kiss against her temple.
“Daddy?” she asked after a moment, voice muffled against his cheek.
“Yeah, ragamuffin?”
“Can I have a tattoo?”
“Uh… why don’t you ask Okaasan?”
RPG, Jamie, Future Ickle #2 (because he and Rei totally have two girls THIS IS CANON, RIGHT RAERAE!?), I DONT EVEN KNOW.. !
She was five years old when she asked, “Daddy? Why do you have drawings on you?”
He’d been in the middle of yanking a clean shirt over his head, but stopped mid-way, one arm through a sleeve. He turned around and looked at her, all big eyes and chubby cheeks. Sighing, he pulled the shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed, waving her over. She crept forward and he scooped her up, disposing her on the bed beside him.
“You want to know why I have tattoos?” She nodded, hair swaying.
“Well, they’re to remember things. And for things that mean a lot.” He held out his right wrist to her, showing the theater masks there. “This is for my grandmother, she loved plays and art and music. She is why I paint and take pictures, this tattoo is to remember that.”
“Ooooh,” she cooed, the hopped up on the bed, moving around behind him. “And this one!” she asked, slapping a hand against his back, small fingers tracing the lines.
“That’s called a dreamcatcher, it helps you have good dreams, and keeps the bad ones out.”
“Did you have bad dreams?”
“I used to, not anymore.” He reached forward, tickling her until she couldn’t breathe. She finally swatted him away, taking in deep breaths.
“W-what about that one?” she gasped out, point at his shoulder.
“It’s kanji, you know that. Okaasan makes you practice every day.”
“But that’s it mean?” Jamie inwardly cringed. Well, for now she could know what it was supposed to mean, not what it actually meant… thanks to that hack tattoo artist, ‘open hooker,’ good god.
“Free spirit.”
She pondered for that moment, decided it wasn’t interesting enough for her, then crawled around him to point at his left bicep.
“It’s a quote from a man named Lord Byron that I always liked.” He looked at the words circling his arm, “The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain,” and wondered how he would explain the meaning to his daughter. He was happy when she seemed rather disinterested in words, and leaned over his lap to point at his right forearm.
“Why a knife?” she asked, quizzically looking at it.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said. She frowned up at him, nose crinkled in a way that distinctly reminded him of her mother.
“And that one!” She traced his left wrist. He smiled as she studied the kanji there before crying triumphantly. “Okaasan!”
“That’s right, it’s Okaasan’s name.” He smiled. “It’s on my left wrist because it leads to my heart.”
“Because you love Okaasan?”
“Because I love Okaasan.” She beamed up at him, then her eyes moved down to his chest where the final tattoo was. “And that?”
“You know the alphabet.” She frowned, studying the letters there. They didn’t make any word she knew.
“Initials, yours and your sister’s, right over my heart.”
“Because you love us?”
“Yes, because I love you.” She stood up, slightly wobbling on the bed, and flung her arms around his neck. Jamie pulled her in to a tight hug, pressing a kiss against her temple.
“Daddy?” she asked after a moment, voice muffled against his cheek.
“Yeah, ragamuffin?”
“Can I have a tattoo?”
“Uh… why don’t you ask Okaasan?”