#Now it just starts on Thanksgiving which is bullshit

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 12

PREVIOUS

If there was one thing no one would ever guess about FF it is that he unapologetically LOVES Black Friday.

You may be thinking. Ugh Black Friday. Everyone is so rude and tired. The deals aren’t even that good. It can turn into a blood sport at the drop of a hat over a toaster that is 15% off.

You are correct.

That is why FF loves it.

It is the one shopping day of the year where every single one of his instincts are correct, valid, and useful. He has pulled his gran out of the way of elbow drops, he has avoided the gaze of a woman in PINK sweat pants who was looking for someone to steal a blender from, and he knows without a doubt that the cashier hates him already so there’s no need to worry about whether or not they hate him.

It’s like a breath of fresh air!

Everyone is just as antagonistic and awful as he thinks they are!

Shopping is actually the blood sport he always feels like it is!

So there he is standing in a line at the nearest store (Target) waiting to be let in with the masses who all look ready to stab one another for better positioning for a TV. The jokes on them though because his only goal is the grocery section and he deals with the threat of repeated stabbings for BREAKFAST.

He spots an IHOP in the distance and hopes his gran doesn’t feel too lonely. They’ve gotten buttermilk stacks together at the IHOP by the mall for years after the two of them finished Christmas Shopping.

Someone elbows him in the side to get his spot in line but FF does not really care. Again, he doubts any of these people are going to be racing him to the all purpose flour.

It’s 4 AM and the barricades come down.

There’s a rush of people pushing and shoving but FF just steps to the side and watches as they all rush in. He’d mostly stayed in the line because the throng of people made it easier to stay warm. He had left his jacket back at the house because the five hour energy might be making his skin feel super sensitive but he is pretty sure that if he wore his nylon jacket he would die.

The five hour energy also may be upping his anxiety just a little bit.

He walks into the store at a leisurely pace and while the crowd fights over the carts he grabs one of the baskets. He can feel the eyes of other shoppers all wondering if he has some insider knowledge on a good deal that would only require the basket or if it’s a matter of who gets to the back to receive the ‘redeem’ coupon.

He sees a few shoppers get lured in by his siren call and much like a siren following anything that FF is about to do will undoubtedly lead to their downfall.

But FF doesn’t care about that.

He cares about HIS downfall.

So he makes his way to the grocery section and ignores the six different shopping assistants who try and guide him to where he ‘should’ be shopping and each of them only give him increasingly confused looks when he states his intention to go to the grocery section every single time.

Is it easier to ignore their stares when the five hour energy have set his baseline heart rate to something that might be too fast to register as a heartbeat? Maybe.

It is easier to ignore the confusion on their faces when he can see both the past (he asked for TWO favors from Andrew in one day how is he still alive???) and the future (still malleable at the moment apparently. There’s even a future where Andrew actually just is trying to make overtures of friendship but he dismisses that one as INCREDIBLY unlikely and looks at the far more viable one where Andrew at least makes his death quick while he enjoys his great gran’s brownies.)

It’s good to set reasonable goals for yourself.

So he arrives at the grocery section which is deserted aside from one employee who may or may not be asleep against a shelf. FF looks and….not a shelf he needs so he is not about to wake that poor man up.

So he gets everything he needs for his great gran’s brownies (he’s trying to buy his life here so he is not about to assume he can use ANYTHING in the house), the ingredients for a good breakfast (because he really needs to eat something that is not a five hour energy or sugar for the sake of his poor stomach and he may as well get enough for everyone), and (since Captain Neil mentioned it & he is trying to buy his life here) the ingredients to bake another pie.

While he grabs cinnamon he checks to see if they have grandma’s love in stock but, alas, it continues to be unavailable commercially.

He stares at the whipped cream for so long that the employee asleep in the other aisle woke up and asked if he needed help and, startled, he dropped it in his basket. “No I’m good.” He says before power walking out of the grocery department and deciding to brave the Home Goods section to buy some incense so that he can hopefully channel the spirit of his great gran to assist him in this, the darkest of his baking hours.

He arrives at the check out stations and finds the shortest line .

He can feel eyes on him, inspecting his purchases, judging them, judging him, who the fuck goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush?

FF.

FF goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush.

The cashier looks for hidden cameras but FF has no such thing accompanying him today or ever (as far as he knows.)

After a moment the cashier must look at the ever growing line and decide that whatever scheme they think FF is up to isn’t worth trying to figure out. They offer a membership card, FF valiantly declines to get one despite the two attempts.

He is out the door with four bags of groceries that all have a target on them that feels a little too correct. It’s 6 AM now (he really did lose a lot of time at the whipped cream section) and he’s walking back to the house in Columbia.

He actually feels a little bit better since he at least got to experience his actual favorite blood sport (sorry Exy) and he even got another 2 five hour energies while he was in the check out line so he could replace some of the ones that he had gone through.

“Smith?”

He would like to thank the combined weight of the groceries for keeping his feet on the ground when he heard Captain Neil’s voice.

He turns and Captain Neil is looking at him wide-eyed in his running gear that Smith has seen him in. “You were shopping??” He asks.

FF nods and lifts up the four bags as evidence. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” He asks.

FF almost scoffs but he doesn’t, “You can’t be distracted when you��re in a Target on Black Friday. That’s how you take an elbow to the eye.” He responds because it’s like Captain Neil has never experienced the WWE-like environment of Black Friday shopping.

Captain Neil blinks at him.

“Text Andrew or me next time you’re going to go off into the night or just let us know beforehand. Andrew would have driven you.” Captain Neil says and grabs two of the bags out of FF’s hand. “C’mon let’s get back and maybe you can get some sleep.” Captain Neil sighs.

“I’m fine.” FF adjusts the bags so he has one in each hand.

Captain Neil does not say anything so FF assumes that he has accepted that.

***

FF had not been asleep on the couch when Neil had walked through the living room. Neil, in a move that had Andrew fully waking up, went back to the room to check his phone to see if FF had texted him an update on going out. All that greets Neil is the impersonal series of texts that mostly confirmed when practice times had been changed, when the bus was leaving, and spelling on various Spanish words.

FF isn’t a big text person.

He’s more of an in-person kind of friend.

Neil likes that about him most of the time.

“What.” Andrew asks face still half buried in Neil’s pillow.

“Smith isn’t on the couch.”

That has Andrew getting up despite the early hour and their activities the night before. Neil watches as Andrew grabs his own phone to scroll through but seems to come up with the same lack of communication that Neil does.

Andrew does do the extra step and hit the call button.

But all he gets is the confirmation that the VM has not been configured that has greeted them every time FF misses their calls. (Voicemails make FF anxious so when he got his new phone he just…never configured it.)

Neil knew that FF was not pleased with them and somehow the calm request to either stop fooling around or let him out had hit him and Andrew harder than any of the screaming demands that the two of them were usually met with from Nicky, Kevin, Aaron, or any of the other Foxes.

“You said he wasn’t mad.” Neil says.

“He nodded.” Andrew confirms.

“Maybe he went on a walk?” Neil tries as they come out to the living room. They look at the front door and find that it’s locked but it looks like Aaron’s keys are gone. “He probably is going to come back if he took Aaron’s keys since Aaron wouldn’t be the one he’d be irritated with.” Neil rationalizes.

“He didn’t bring his jacket.” Andrew says looking at the black jacket still on the hook by the door.

“We can go and see if we spot him.” Neil offers.

Andrew nods and Neil heads out first since Andrew is still in his sleeping clothes and will need some time.

Neil had not expected to find FF walking back to the house with groceries for breakfast and the pie that Neil had mentioned hoping they could bake at the house.

“Is this for the pie?” He asks looking down at what was in the bags he was carrying as the walked back to the house. Neil managed to shoot off a quick text letting Andrew know that it was fine, FF just went grocery shopping.

FF just nods, “Got everything but Grandma’s love.” He says.

FF is a nice guy to brave the stores on a morning like this but FF also looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Neil asks.

“I’m fine.” FF repeats.

Neil really is starting to understand his friends’ hatred for the phrase.

They get back to the house and Andrew is sat out in the living room. FF stops and blinks at the sight of him sitting there.

It is a well-known fact that Andrew does not willingly wake up early most days unless he has to. Neil is glad that Andrew has a friend that he’s coming to care about the way Andrew cares about FF.

Andrew gets up and yanks the bags out of FF’s hands. “Go to sleep. Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.” He says with a scowl and walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries FF had bought.

FF just looks at where Andrew had gone uncomprehendingly for a few moments and Neil figures he’s just tired. Neil feels guilty that him and Andrew messing around in the car like that had rendered FF unable to sleep and the two of them had agreed last night that from now on when FF is in the car they can talk all they want but hands stay on the wheel and eyes stay on the road.

FF is plopped down on the couch when Andrew and Neil come out of the kitchen after putting away the groceries (“These are the ingredients for brownies.” Andrew had noted as he put away melting chocolate.) and he’s looking through his flashcards again and not sleeping. He hears Andrew make a disgusted noise next to him and the next thing he knows Andrew is smacking the cards out of FF’s hands.

“Go. To. Sleep.” Andrew enunciates.

FF stares at him, then down at the flashcards. “I don’t think I can.” He says which is better than him lying and saying he wasn’t tired even if the truth had Andrew’s mouth stretch into a thin line that meant he was beating himself up for something.

“Try.” Andrew orders. “Just lay down and close your eyes. Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” He says.

FF blinks but nods turning on the couch and laying down. The blanket is still over on the lazy boy that Neil had set it on the night before and Andrew rolls his eyes before grabbing it and tossing it over FF.

“Thanks.” FF says before closing his eyes.

Neil looks to Andrew who nods and Neil accepts that there’s nothing else to be done for now and heads out on his run.

***

FF can admit that he’s a bit adrift in what Andrew and Captain Neil are doing right now.

He really should go grab another five hour energy because falling asleep IN FRONT of an irritated Andrew Minyard feels like a death sentence but “Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” And having a blanket thrown over him did not feel like a threat even if he can feel Andrew’s eyes watching him.

FF is tired and when he’s tired he tends to make stupid decisions. So FF lets himself drift off to sleep while the man who was likely going to move him to a secondary location sat and watched.

His dreams are not peaceful.

He’s running, can’t escape, an echo of words he should have considered before letting himself drift off and he knows he’s going to DIE.

He wakes up with a start to the smell of bacon, eggs, and hashed browns with Nicky standing over him. “Hey there sleeping beauty! I made you a plate!” He says and hands FF a plate of breakfast that smiles up at him with a bacon mouth, egg eyes, and hashed brown hair.

FF takes the plate and digs in immediately. He needs his strength.

“Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.”

Andrew Minyard was going to hunt him for SPORT.

NEXT

Do your civic duty and: CAST YOUR VOTE TODAY ABOUT MEMES (closed)

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As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly? (Cheesecookie whatever you did let me actually select you this time)

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Meta!Reader peeved about finally having a Bat family dinner after months of being left alone and feeling petty.

Smalltown!Meta!Reader pretending not to know about the family's nighttime activities: Why do Batman's sidekicks look like twinks? Do y'all think that's why he picks them?

Bruce choking.

Cassandra sighing because she knows Reader is trying to start shit. (Still doesn’t get up to leave cause this is probably gonna be fun to watch.)

Stephanie wheezing: Yₒᵤ ₜₕᵢₙₖ ₕₑ ₚᵢcₖₛ ₜₕₑₘ bₑcₐᵤₛₑ ₜₕₑy ₗₒₒₖ ₗᵢₖₑ ₜwᵢₙₖₛ?

Dick wanting to add fuel to the fire: You’re right! They do look like a bunch of twinks.

Tim getting PTSD flashbacks from all the times he’s been called a twink over the years.

Jason in denial: Red Hood is NOT a twink.

Smalltown!Meta!Reader: Not with that attitude. I will admit the current Robin doesn’t look like a twink though.

Smalltown!Meta!Reader looking directly at Damian: Isn’t the kid like ten or somethin’?

Damian a high schooler: He’s NOT A KID.

Barbara so fucking done: Just be grateful he’s not a considered a twink, Damian.

Duke trying to be subtle: Do you think the Signal is a twink too?

Smalltown!Meta!Reader: He is the best boy kinda twink.

Cue everyone protesting and fighting over which vigilante is the best (or worst twink)

Bruce : Calm down. This coversation-

Smalltown!Meta!Reader completely bullshiting everyone now: Do y'all think Batman wears that cowl because he's secretly a twink too?

Bruce:

Everyone: YES!

A/N: I've been losing it over Bruce as Nightwing and it inspired this. Could it have been better? Yes. But, it has been plaguing my mind and I needed to get it out.

A/N: I headcannon this as Reader's first Thanksgiving with the Bats.

[thewinterpoet2]

ROXANNE

Jake Peralta x Reader

In which the reader is a secret vocalist outside of work as a detective in the 99th precinct, Jake becomes suspicious which leads to feelings rising to the surface.

WARNINGS: Swearing, themes of crime, theft, interrogation.

Word count: 15,654

Y/N~ Your Name

L/N~ Last Name

The first time Jake started to become suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

It was nearing Christmas which meant crime in Brooklyn had reached a new level of stupid, leading every Detective and Beat Cop to internally curse every black Friday sale to hell for eternity.

The squad of the 99th Precinct tended to be divided around the holidays, Boyle sprung into action, in true Boyle fashion, buying ridiculously expensive gifts for, well, everyone.

Santiago spent countless hours writing Christmas cards, and for the fifth year in a row, apologised incessantly to an exhausted UPS driver as she reluctantly returned all her holiday gifts for Captain Holt.

Gina loved Christmas and celebrated, to some, in what would be a very unusual way. But in her defence, setting up a PO box for her fans, meant she could have a very cheap Christmas. Thrifty and entrepreneurial, that's Gina.

Whereas, some members of the squad weren't as keen on Christmas. We know how Jake feels about Thanksgiving and with no suprise, this translates to his views around Christmas, too.

Rosa Diaz, although she hides it very well, spends Christmas with her family every year. Now her sexuality was out in the open, the healing her family went through have led, thankfully, to a much closer relationship. Rosa would never say this out loud, but knowing that they're fighting in her corner, is the best gift she could have ever asked for.

Oh, but if you asked she'd definitely tell you to "Mind your own fucking business before I get involved in yours" and according to her, "you definitely don't want that, do you?"

Jake Peralta was a great detective but a tricky human being. To put it bluntly, Jake hated Christmas. He hated carols, trees, "little scary elves that show up everywhere", and most of all, romcoms. Jake despised hallmark romance films. Was it because he was single for the 8th Christmas in a row? Who could tell, but he'd certainly deny it if anyone had the courage to ask.

Y/N, was definitely the wildcard out of the squad, especially when it came to the holidays. She'd told every detective the same bullshit tale of how she was going back to England to see her family for the holidays, how her least favourite gift is socks, how more than anything she hates carolling. Because, jesus, no one wants to hear her sing!

Detective L/N was a liar, for many reasons. Yes she was from England but she actually didn't mind socks and the biggest lie of all, maybe she'd convinced the detectives they wouldn't want to hear her sing... But her bandmates and their followers definitely did.

See, Y/N wasn't just a Detective, she was a trained singer, performer and songwriter. After work she tended to dodge Shaw's to head to band practice or straight to a gig, not that anyone had figured that out of course.

Not yet anyway.

Tne first time Jake became suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

Jake and Y/N were in the middle of interrogating a perp, nothing too gruesome or inhumane, a couple counts of petty theft and something that would hopefully have led to a new lead about a future bank heist.

William Dobson was his name.

"Why do all these perps have such boring names, why isn't he called Franco Goldminer"

Peralta turned around, slamming an evidence file onto the nearest desk. Y/N looked unamused at the topic of conversation but not surprised, it was Jake after all.

"Because I'm pretty sure 'Franco Goldminer' is A) too obvious for a criminal B) kind of ironic and C) sounds like an idiot that still lives with his mum in his 30s"

Jake's eyes twinkled at her quick and easy retort, not that she'd have seen that of course.

"Nah I stand by it, he's got a dumb name"

Scoffing Y/N stopped reading the provided statement, sighing in conclusion, rubbing her face with her hands,

"So we've got nothing, Jesus."

Peralta let out a sigh of annoyance,

"L/N why don't you go talk to him, I'll watch and see if he opens up to you"

Giving a cheeky grin he continued,

"I would say you could try annoy him into talking but you basically do that anyway"

Slapping his shoulder Y/N walked straight back into interrogation, ignoring his laughter trailing behind her.

William looks up at Y/N, recognition dawning on his face.

Fuck, this wasn't good.

"So Dobson, recount the night of the 16th for me again, seems some details don't match up from the tapes-"

Mid sentence you're cut off,

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

Y/N made a sound of aggravation at being cut off

"Small world, lots of people. Anyway the footage shows a different time to the one you claim you-"

"Roxanne on 5th right?"

Shit, shit, SHIT. Y/N's blood ran cold at the name of the club she performs at, it's nice to meet fans, just not in the middle of an interrogation.

Fuck she had to play this off cool, nochelant, like nothing happened.

"I don't care about your personal life Dobson, you're here because you're a criminal. Distraction techniques won't work with me, I don't recall being your best friend, Sir"

Awesome she thought, professional and managed to get an insult in at the same time.

"aren't you in that ba-"

Slamming her file onto the table

"Jesus give it a rest you don't know me"

Y/N's voice came out high pitched, aggravated and very, well, unlike her. This was enough to peek Peralta's interest from behind the glass, this wasn't the Y/N he knew, his coworker who hated anything boring but rarely took risks.

Hands up in defeat, Dobson backs down and the interrogation continues as it was before, absolutely useless.

What Y/N didn't know is Peralta was on the other side of the glass, a puzzled expression on his face;

This was the day Jake Peralta made it his mission to investigate further.

"Who are you Y/N?" He mumbled.

A few weeks later, Jake stopped going to Shaws with the squad.

This in itself was confusing for his fellow detectives, Boyle was practically heartbroken thinking that he'd done something to scare his best friend off.

This led to Boyle doing everything he could to try and entice Jake to their bar, regardless of how weird it was.

Boyle is Boyle, he's very extra, but he's got such a big heart and that's all that mattered to Jake.

However, Charles' interference was only causing Jake more stress, his plan needed to be a secret to be able to make this work.

It was a Friday night, the day before New Year's Eve. Y/N had requested annual leave tomorrow, something that was rarely granted on holiday's (thanks again New York) Jake managed to find this much out from a single conversation with Gina, oh, and because the holiday schedule was on a public server but that seemed too easy.

If he wasn't suspicious before, he definitely was now, something was in the water and he simply had to know what was going on.

It's not like Jake was OBSESSED with Y/N, he just wanted to know her on a more personal level and she made that incredibly difficult.

"I like to keep myself to myself, work is work, home is home. Keep them separate"

Her beautiful voice repeated the devastating series of words more times than he'd have liked to have heard them. Never. None. No thanks.

He'd invited her to Shaw's so many times he'd lost count, he'd asked if she wanted to watch Die Hard at his apartment, he'd even asked if he could do more overtime so he could spend more time with her. In the 6 years he'd worked with her he'd made absolutely zero progress, it's hard to fancy someone that doesn't acknowledge your existence.

Jake thinks Y/N is perfect.

Plain and simple.

Starring at her, lost in thought. He thinks about her eyes, how he wishes one day she'd look at him with the same love and happiness he looked at her with. He wonders what their kids would look like, okay Jake that's a bit far you're sounding a bit like Charles, he internally scolds himself.

"JAKE" Y/N snapped her fingers to get his attention, a look that can only be described as concern adorning her features.

"Huh? Oh yes, yes. I agree, yes let's do that. Whatever it was you said" He rambled at the speed of light, pretending to have acknowledged the last 20 mins that don't exist in his mind.

A smirk grew on Y/N's face, something he barely saw but made him feel like the room just got 20 times hotter.

"Oh so you were listening, yeah? Fabulous, so we can go ahead and schedule the hip replacement..."

Jake's eyes grew wide, babbling out some incoherent nonsense he managed to find two words; "HIP REPLACEMENT?"

Y/N couldn't hold back anymore and cried with laughter, barely being able to form any words.

"I was talking to you about someone I booked using their need for a hip replacement as an excuse, I joked she could use yours" wiping away tears, Y/N's laughter dies down seeing his daze and confusion.

"Are you okay, Jake?" Starring him down, he does what he does best, panics.

"I have to go" Jake stands up bolts out the room at top speed, leaving a very concerned Y/N.

Y/N has always liked Jake, he's bubbly, silly, but cares so much about everyone in his life, he'd go above and beyond for anyone and that's something you can't buy. She has wanted to let him into her personal life for a while but mixing personal and professional has never worked in her favour so she stops herself from letting things get weird and complicated again. Life is as complicated as she makes it after all.

Tomorrow Y/N's band were performing at Roxanne again for their NYE party, she was debuting the title song of their new cover album. Y/N has always been such a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, so "Go Your Own Way" definitely made the cut, providing, Jamie and Simon (her bandmates) were okay with that of course. She was excited, finally time to let her hair down and shed any stress from work.

Jake, after running out at top speed, took to his phone, made a few calls and booked a table tomorrow night for nine people.

At Roxanne.

Jake, Charles, Rosa, Amy, Terry, Captain Holt, Gina, Sully and Hitchcock.

And Y/N had no idea.

Well, neither did anyone other than Jake. This was going to be interesting.

The morning of NYE came and Y/N was ecstatic, eating breakfast at lighting speed, grabbing a coffee, brushing her teeth and then heading to the subway, felt like seconds. You know what they say, time flies when you're having fun.

Y/N arrived at Roxanne at just gone 1pm and immediately hugged Jamie who gave a huge grin seeing her arrival.

"Hi baby! Don't you look a treat, you excited for later?"

Blushing and hitting his shoulder Y/N laughed at his brash complimenting.

"Yeah, yeah, save it Jame, where's your boyfriend? He better not be hiding, we're fucked without him"

"Right here gorgeous"

Y/N jumped and let out a sharp gasp seeing him right behind her.

"Don't scare me like that, dick!"

Laughing he pulled her into a hug.

"Ready to blow the world away with your pipes tonight angel?"

Laughing gently she said "As ready as I'll ever be, right let's practice idiots. Then we can grab some food before we have to change"

Y/N had her mind free from work and Jake, but for Jake, well that was another story.

To Jake this was a stakeout, he had no idea whether he'd find a Mafia organisation or nothing at all. He phoned up Roxanne to ask about the event but all they said was to "Check the damn website, it's not 1942 anymore" and the website hadn't been updated in months.

Jake was terrified.

An afternoon turned into the evening and soon Y/N was slipping on a red sequined dress, black knee high boots, two lace black gloves, smokey, dark makeup and her hair was in curls, ready to take to the stage.

Roxanne was bustling already and it had only just gone 8, she was on in 30 mins and this was their moment.

Warmed up and excited, adrenaline coursing through her veins, she jumped up and down to hype herself up, she had got this.

Jake on the other hand, was only just getting ready, nothing too extravagant just a classic shirt, no tie and a jacket, but a clean jacket so it counts, right? The table was booked for 9 and he had no idea what was going to happen or what would be uncovered.

5 minutes to their opening call, Jamie, Simon and Y/N were all hugging and hyping up each other, knowing this was going to be the performance of a lifetime.

The crowd are cheering already, the bar is stacked and there's no space in the room, the floor is filled to the brim full of people and the only remaining space is one singular table on the balcony of the club, a reserved sign sitting neatly in the center.

"LADIES, THEYDIES AND GENTLEMEN, TONIGHT WE TAKE YOU INTO THE NEW YEAR IN STYLE, YOU KNOW THEM, YOU LOVE THEM, IT'S 'CRIME ME A RIVER"

Running out onto the stage, the heat from the stage lights hit Y/N and then everything changed, her body felt warm and she'd never felt more comfortable. The first notes started of Go Your Own Way and she took a breath then started to sing.

Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?

The crowd scream at the sound of her voice, the sweet melody carrying through the entire club, out the doors, into the night.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

How can I

When you won't take it from me?

Y/N can't help but think about Jake as she sings, music really is true to the heart and god what her heart wants more than anything is him.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

Jake and the squad pull up to the club, Terry already confused about why they're at such a random location on NYE when they could be at Shaws or "somewhere that doesn't look straight out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show"

Squeezing through the crowd blocking the entrance to the club, Jake heard Amy gasp.

"Oh my god, Jake"

"No fucking way" Rosa chimed in.

"This is unexpected" Gina remarked.

"Terry did not see this coming" Terry exclaimed.

Tell me why

Everything turned around

Packing up

Shacking up is all you want to do

Looking at his shocked colleagues, Jake followed their eyeline to the stage, seeing Y/N he unconsciously held his breath. She looked out of this world, so out of character from the person he shares a desk space with, but at the same time, she'd never looked more, her. His heart beating faster than the beat of the music, he turned to look at the squad once more, seeing Rosa's smirk, Amy's disbelief, Terry's enjoyment, Boyle squealing like a child at Jake's reaction.

"Oh Jakey, I knew you liked her, I knew it, I can't wait to be best man at your wedding" Charles then carried on monologuing but it all drowned out to Jake who only heard Y/N, oh boy, could she sing.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

Open up

Everything's waiting for you

During this moment he imagined Y/N was singing directly to him, his heart fluttered and in that moment he knew he had to tell Y/N, he just had to. Or he'd explode.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

All the squad started pushing past the crowd to try and get as near to the stage as possible, ignoring their table completely (well apart from Hitchcock and Scully) cheering, dancing and having a great time. Enjoying every second.

On the last note of Y/N's performance she took a breath and basked in the screaming of the crowd.

"THANK YOU! MY NAME IS Y/N AND WE'RE HERE SO YOU CAN HAVE A GOOD TIME, DO WE WANT A GOOD TIME?"

Hearing a scream of "YES" she continued by saying "OKAY SO HERE'S OUR NEXT SONG, THIS ONE IS A BIT DIFFERENT, IT'S MORE OF A POWER BALLED, ARE WE READY?"

But before the first note could be sang Y/N made direct eye contact with Jake, who was fondly shaking his head in disbelief. She smiled widely and blushed a deep red.

She knew they'd talk after, and he did too. But for now she'd show how she loved him by showing him who she really was, Unapologetically and he loved nothing more.

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this fic, might do a part 2, if you want to be added to a taglist or if you want a part 2 full stop please let me know:) unedited so it's definitely not perfect haha. Enjoy!

#jakeperalta #jakeperaltaxreader #brooklyn99 #brooklyn99fanfic #brooklyn99jake #jake #jakeperalta #jacobperaltaxreader #xreader #charlesboyle #rosadiaz #amysantiago #captainholt #terryjeffords #ginalinetti #scully #hitchcock

[avengersassemble123]

The (un)expected Thanksgiving

Pairing: Ran Haitani x fem!reader

Since Im going through my Haitani brothers brainrot, especially Ran Haitani, here's a fic for all the Haitani lovers like me HAHA.

Age ranges of the characters are majorly in 20s. Ran is 24, while you and Rindou are 23.

PS: this is a female reader based fanfic. Majorly a crackfic

Inspired from the series 'THE BIG BANG THEORY' (7x09) The thanksgiving Decoupling.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I dont get it. Why am i being bullied here?"

"Just because i said so"

"Thats bullshit."

"Ran, be nice."

You three were preparing for the thanksgiving party at the Haitani brothers' place, since they insisted that they were the best and better party throwers than anyone in the whole of Toman, leading you to prepping up the food, you forcefully making Ran's lazy ass help you, while Rindou played a video game after helping to clean the house.

Currently the argument was being held between the brothers on Ran warning Rindou on beating him up if Ran's fell asleep and was disturbed by the others in the party, leading to the younger sibling defend himself back and you scolding your boyfriend on bullying his younger brother.

"Now i know how the Korean slaves felt in Japan..."

You gave him a deadpan offended look, eyebrow raised and staring at him, as he was sat like a grumpy cat busy playing his game. Your boyfriend snorted, making you kick his feet to shut him up.

"Are you seriously comparing you two's sibling fight to one of the greatest Japanese Korean tragedies?" You asked.

"Yes." Rindou grunted, shrugging his shoulders as if its the most obvious thing in the world, making you roll your eyes.

"Im surprised you guys even know that considering you two's level of education" you retorted, making offended gasps come out from the two brothers, "Hey watch your mouth, Im the eldest here. You dont back answer me. Ill kick your ass." Ran threatened playfully as he twirled a knife and pointed towards you jokingly, making you give him a 'sure' look.

"Rindou, ignore your brother, you know you can spend a nice thanksgiving anywhere, I spent one in Roppongi anyway, before i was dating Ran." you said, as you walked towards the living room couch.

"You did?" Ran asked, following me with a opened desert cup.

"Yea, back when i was dating my ex Kenji. It was really fun, we visited casinos, cheesy wedding chapels, roamed around malls, got drunk and explored the night life, and also almost landed up in a strip club, which was of course surprising as hell." you chuckled, unknown towards Ran being taken aback midway eating his desert, looking at Rindou, who had confused eyes darting towards his brother's, his attention completely off the game, as the brothers' exchanged confused glances between each other.

"Wait you went to chapel?" Ran asked. "Yea." you chuckled, as you continued to apply spread on my sandwich. "Why?" He continued.

"We had one of those silly fake wedding haha" you chuckled, thinking of it as a funny memory, while Ran's eyes squinted at you, visibly taken aback, as Rindou now removed the headphones from his ears and onto his shoulders, glancing between you two and seeing the interaction in confusion. "(NAME)," Ran started, now his desert kept on his lap, as squinted his eyes at her, "You know those are real, right?"

"Huh no they're not." you scoffed, assuming he was joking, as you continued to giggle and eat your sandwich.

"Baby...Rindou and I have been ruling Roppongi since we were 13...we know it inside out...Trust me, they are real." Ran responded, as now slowly set down his unfinished desert.

You slowed your chewing, your eyes blanking out, seeing that your boyfriend was indeed serious unlike his usual demeanour, as despair and nervousness slowly filled inside your body, "No..they're not" Your voice slightly quivered, as you looked at Rindou for backup, but instead was returned with the same confused nervous look as Ran's.

"Yea they are." Ran responded.

"He's right, they're real." Rindou confirmed.

You sat there nervous, as you started fidgeting with your sandwich, "B-But it didnt seem real..." You muttered, your voice whimpering, as you looked at both of them, as if trying to convince them and even yourself. You three exchanged glances between each other, but majorly you looking at Ran as he looked at you, this time his eyes widened and his mouth slightly agape.

"Son of a bitch" you both cursed under your breaths.

--- TIMSKIP 2 HOURS LATER---

It was almost time for your friends to arrive, as you guys were busy doing last minute preparations.

"I cant fucking believe you're married to that idiot." Ran muttered, as he aggressively continued to set up the tables with loud thuds.

You sighed as you were busy setting up the pillows and cushions of the living room sofa, "Would you stop it? we just did it as a goof."

"Goof or not, you two are actually married. you need to get this taken care of, or Ill handle it myself." Ran gritted, as he put down the nachos bowl with a 'thud'.

"I will. Why are you making it such a big deal?" you gritted as you finished dusting off the couches and bean bag.

"Oh i have a reason," Rindou spoke out as he was casually setting up the DJ system, "It could be because you said yes to marrying Kenji, but made Ran chase you till the end of the Earth as you showered him with resounding 'no's and making one of the kings' of Roppongi's ego hurt." Rindou didnt look up, as he was amused by the situation and the argument happening between you two, making him snort mentally at the kind of problem it is.

You and Ran both glared at Rindou, as he hummed and tested out his new tracks.

You sighed as you now stood in the middle of the living room frustrated, your hands placed at your hips. "So how do i undo this?"

"Im hoping you can get an annulment cuz it never happened." Ran replied.

"Great. Well what do i have to do?"

"Ran looked into his phone, searching for solutions when he spoke up, "It says here that you can get an annulment, if any of the following conditions are met. 1. Were you unable to consummate the marriage? Hah you? Next." Ran mocked, as you rolled your eyes and glared at him. "Is there any case of fraud, bigamy, want of understanding-"

"Want of understanding? What does that even mean?" you asked before being interrupted by the younger brother.

"Ding ding ding we have a winner" Ran cheered, mocking you, making you roll your eyes for the third time in the span of few hours, rubbing your eyes in frustration at the nonsense.

---

Soon your friends of Toman started coming in, as you guys greeted them as everyone started settling in and started mingling and partying.

You were talking with Shion and Mochi, "Hey thanks for coming in. Here's the bottle you wanted to taste." you replied with a bland and strained tone, making the two question.

"Whats with you?" Mochi asked, when Ran appeared and answered immediately, "Oh she's just mad at me because she just found out that she was married to her ex." Ran replied with a strained forced smile, looking at you the whole time, his hands inside his pockets.

"Really that dumbass you used to date? Tha-ts hysterical" Shion started laughing at the end midsentence, making you glare at him. "I cant believe i felt bad for opening this earlier." I said, before snatching the bottle from Mochi's hands and walking away. Mochi glared at Shion as the latter pursed his lips, "Congratulations you played yourself." "Shut up."

Soon enough the party started, along with everyone starting to realise the tension between you and Ran, as you told everyone not to worry about it Rindou coughing in the background.

Hinata, Takemichi, Draken, Emma, Mikey, Baji and Kazutora were hanging out in the kitchen going through the food stuff, when Senju barged out of nowhere, "Guys you wont believe what i just heard."

"What?" Hinata asked. "Im pretty sure she has some random bullshit to spout out" Baji joked, giving a high five to Mikey and Draken, as Senju rolled her eyes, giving him the middle finger.

"First off, fuck you Baji. Second off, did you guys know that (NAME) was married to her ex Kenji two years ago?"

"WHAT?" Everyone in the kitchen exclaimed, as they turned their heads towards a smug Senju, some of the people's mouth full mid bite (Mikey and his dorayaki). "Yea. thats the reason why we were uncomfortable with the tension between (NAME) and Ran."

Yuzuha came running in, before spotting Senju and visibly deflating, "You told everyone here already didnt you?"

---

As you were sitting with the girls that is Emma, Hinata, Senju and Yuzuha, talking about the situation as they had confronted you about it, when Ran came out of his bedroom, walking towards you, reading into his phone, "Ok ive readied the annulment papers, all that needs to be done is for you and that dumbass to sign it. Understood?"

"Yea."

"Oh and do it soon as possible will ya?"

"I fucking get it Ran, can you stop bothering me about this?" you gritted as you stood up and started walking towards his room.

"How the hell am i bothering you, when im just trying to get your ass out of this stupid mess?" Ran gritted back, as he stared at your back.

---

"How am i the bad guy? She's the one who married someone else. Im the victim." Ran ranted, as Rindou, Sanzu, Izana, Kakucho and Mochi sat on the couches drinking and watching the game on the TV"

"Sounds like Kenji's the victim. You're sleeping with his wife." Sanzu retorted making the other men snort. "Okay i see what your problem is...Can i weigh in here?" Izana asked, making Ran shrug. "Im trying to watch the game here, shut up."Izana retorted with a blank face before turning towards the TV, making the others finally burst out in laughter, as the braided male rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Just the you entered, walking towards your boyfriend, "Well, you'd be happy to know that i just spoke with Kenji, and he's willing to sign the papers." Ran nodded, making his way towards to you, both of you peeking in your phone together. "He's on his way here now." You said, making Ran look up at you with an incredulous look, "Wait, you invited him here?" Ran asked, slightly raising his tone.

"Im getting ready to weigh in here again." Izana called out, not turning his eyes off the TV, making Ran roll his eyes, before pulling you towards a quieter corner.

You both were at a quieter corner near the kitchen, arguing,

"I just don't understand why you had to invite him here today??"

"Because you wouldnt shut up about it. and when I called him, he had nothing to do so I just thought-"

"Hey guys" Kokonoi spoke up from behind the kitchen counter, "We're kind of talking here."

"Oh sorry we'll keep it down." you said apologetically, again turning towards Ran, but being interrupted again, "Oh no no, speak up."

Ran and you looked at him confused, before looking at Inui, Kisaki and Hanma behind him, the three males waving at you. "We are kinda bit further from you two's talking range, and we dont wanna miss anything." Kokonoi shrugged, making your mouth agape, squinting at their audacity before looking at Ran, who had an annoyed look.

"Well get ready to invite one more, because she invited Kenji over here right now." Ran said, before a loud 'WHAT' was heard.

Mitsuya slapped Peh's mouth shut, while Pah turned him around, alongside Mikey, Draken, Baji, Kazutora, who were pretending to look into some other directions, whistling some random notes and observing the surroundings.

---

After Half an hour, when the doorbell rang, every single person scrambled, waiting for the next moments of what was about to come.

---

"Well, here are the papers, you just gotta sign in here." Ran said, as he put forth the papers across the table, as you and Kenji stood across each other.

"Sorry I made you come over here on a holiday" you apologised, as you stood patiently at your side.

"Its alright." Kenji said, "I didnt have anything going on, plus, (NAME) told me we were married, and thanksgiving is the time to be with family." Kenji said with a wide tooth smile. If looks could kill, Kenji wouldve been tortured to death by the way Ran glared at him, while you blankly looked at your dumb ex. "Yea okay great, Can we just get this over with?" You said, as you took the pen and signed the papers.

"Great, by a few days, this marriage will be over, and you both can go seperate ways." Ran said, as you held the pen towards Kenji to sign it, "Here."

Kenji hummed before speaking up, "I dont know if i wanna sign these papers."

Everone 'oooed', as you both ignored the voices. You glared at Kenji with a 'are you serious look' while Ran had red in his eyes, "Why not?" Ran said, his voice raising, restraining himself to not beat the shit out of him.

"Because i think splitting up would be rough on the kids." Kenji said, making you two look at him with dumbfounded looks. "

"We don't have any kids" You say, "Are you sure, cuz you didnt know we were married until this morning." Kenji said, making Ran look towards you, smacking his lips and squinting his eyes, giving you the 'he's got a point' look, making you roll your eyes.

"Okay Kenji, you know neither of us thought this was real, i mean we were married by an anime character impersonater."

"Of course it was an Anime character impersonater. we could never afford a real one."

You looked at him with your eyes squinted and dumbfounded look, while Ran rubbed his hand over his face, "You married him instead of me? Yeah good call." Ran said, taking the pen from your hands and pointing it towards Kenji , "Sign the damn papers."

"Hang on" You said, pointing your hand towards Ran, "You know you've been a jerk about this all day. You always do this. Whenever i mess something up, you're right there to make me feel worse about it."

"That is not true." Ran argued.

"You know we couldve waited till Monday, signed the papers, and this wouldve all been over."

"You're the one who invited him here."

"Oh there we go again. Just another mistake you're throwing at my face."

"Not cool bro." Kenji said, poking Ran's shoulder with the pen, as Ran squinted at him annoyed and irritated. "Im starting to think you're not the guy i want dating my wife."

You held Ran's one hand back, not to let him physically strangle Kenji in front of the others.

Ran took a deep breath, before speaking up, "Yea, well she's not gonna be your wife for long."

"Oh no are you dying?"

Ran looked at the ceiling, while you closed your eyes in frustration, still holding Ran's one hand to calm him down.

"Im about to. Sign the damn papers." you said.

Kenji signed the papers as he happily said, "You know what they say, Happy wife..Happy life." He put the pen down on the table as he grinned and looked towards you both, while Ran gave him a sideye, his both hands on the table, while you took a deep breath.

---------

Soon the party ended, as everyone bid goodbyes. Finally only you, Ran and Rindou were left. Rindou went to his room, while you and Ran sat beside each other on the couch, watching TV, and eating ice cream.

You sighed, as you slid an arm underneath his, "Hey, i'm sorry about today. And i promise that the next time i get married, it wont be a joke. It'll be for love. Or money." i said nodding my head, before giving him kisses on his cheeks and his lips before resting my head on his shoulders, as Ran snorted on your words. He then moved his hands to wrap around you, as he then retorted, "Its a win win for me, since i qualify for both", making you chuckle, as you both continued to cuddle and watch TV and eating the tub of ice cream.

[yippeeometer]

A (correct) timeline of NE thanksgiving

4:00AM: Hammy arrives. the party isn't supposed to start for another many hours, but he went out drinking and, when realizing he couldnt drive, simply treked the many miles to mass's house. it took him several days. no one is awake when he arrives so he sets about on a sidequest trying to find some rocks to throw at mass's window.

5:00AM: Hammy is allowed in the house. it turns out maine was also staying there, but was so shocked and bewildered by the idea of having to host before he was ready that he laid face down on the floor so Hammy would think he was a rug. Hammy notices him very easily. They won't be speaking for a few hours.

7:00AM: actual thanksgiving prep begins. Mass and Penn divorce 5 times over how to correctly cook a turkey. maine stares into the camera and serves child of divorce whilst taking notes for his next murder mystery. somewhere, many miles away, York is visibly shaking and sweating at the idea of having to talk to people.

8:00AM: First political argument. Cut arrives under the guise of being there to help prep, but actually wants the ego boost of having a life slightly more put together than these lunatics. singlehandedly almost cancels thanksgiving for everyone for not getting the fuck out the kicthen fast enough.

10:00 AM: nothing has been done for two hours. PA and Hammy ripping cables out the tv angrily muttering to themselves. Theyre actively doing each other hindrance as Hammy is sure hes doing this for the parade and PA's only focus is the football. luckily, they havent communicated since the 1800s so the argument can be delayed at least an hour. mass stood outside like ben affleck w a cigarette rekindling his relationship with god to ask him to just let the meteor hit.

11:00AM: another political argument. dela, upon figuring out he was not a key part of this years celebrations, threatens to join the south and tell them all the family recipes. unfortunately, the person he complains about this to is NJ, who was kicked out the chat for too many your mom jokes and doesn't even know whats going on. dela is now faced with the worlds most difficult decision; hold this fuck up above everyone silently or bitch about it to their faces. one of the options involves carpooling with new jersey.

1:00PM: Monty arrives. despite being given a list of things he was supposed to bring, he completely forgot and brought tape, maple syrup and insulated tubes from the nearest gas station. the only reason he doesn't die on the doorstep is bc maine says 'at least theyre edible' and everyone focuses on that bullshit instead. This is a mistake, as one of the things on his list was Rhode Island. The most happy PA looks all day is when he says he'll go get him before anyone else can offer. he and mass divorce once more over him being wayyyy to happy to get away from this.

2:00PM: NJ and dela arrive. dela instantly makes a big deal of mass fucking up the invites. mass threatens to throw him in a lake bc fuck you, he invented thanksgiving, he gets to host. Hammy has long since given up on the tv, and is now establishing a complicated system of terrible drawings w monty and maine so they can experience the parade without seeing it. NJ banned from the kitchen bc hes unable to not be a total control freak.

4:00PM: Rhode and PA arrive. Rhode is instantly pissy and threatens to turn monty into a frittata. is only stopped by the fact that cut is there and he hates his ex-wife more. NJ asks why hammy didn't just use the remote to turn on the tv, to which PA has to refrain himself from smiling. the remote is in his car. fuck that fucking parade. the dinner finally starts.

5:00PM: 3rd political argument. this one is slightly more advanced in the fact no one can hear what anyone else is saying, so they just argue about whatever. communism. the bruins. what a frittata is. York has not shown up yet. Cut tries texting him to ask where he is and he says 'fuck off, thsi number isnt in use'- which is suspicious bc autogenerated texts dont normally contain 'fuck'. they go around saying what theyre thankful for. 80% of the answers are to do with not being from jersey. Nj takes a 45 minute smoke break during which he googles 'fbi' 'how to get the fbi to raid you' 'how to get rid of the family'.

6:00PM: random 4 minutes of actual feelings. very odd. everyone feels deeply uncomfortable with saying they genuinely like each other.

7:00PM: York finally arrives. when asked where hes been, he says the sight of mass's red sox doormat repeled him like a demon with a ring of salt. so he went home. the only reason he's back is becuase its too dark to see it. he brings cheesecake, which causes a great deal more fighting than expected as they all genuinely crash out at the concept of a cheesecake made in a way tehy didn't expect. rhode and mass stood in the garden, again like ben affleck, thinking of the sad relity of their love of thanksgiving vs the people theyre surrounded by.

8:00: 4th political argument. they decide to resolve it with a game of football, forgetting that its pitch black outside and maine has the night blindness of a mole. unfortunately for maine, running at speeds not to be expected for a casual game, rhode is only 5 apples tall- maine instantly faceplants. mass has been doing shots since he woke up and can't even say what a bone is anymore. that brings him to the second, worse choice. dela.

10:00PM: final political argument. they all agree this has been a waste of time. they all agree they hate each other. they stay in mass's house for hours more, which seems to contridict this.

[farahsamboolents]

stranger things major dates:

(this is actually part of a much larger post i plan on making, with a loooot of background bullshit that nobody cares about, but this is just the dates :P please note that it took me a while to get the hang of this note taking thing so it’ll get more accurate as the seasons progress, feel free to fact check me)

(other thing to notes: I'm assuming that all of these dates are one after the other or even simultaneously, but according to wikis online, the timeline is much more stretched out, implying that there are other days we don't see.)

S1

Will went missing on November 6th, 1983. There were search parties November 6th and 7th; on November 7th there was the big storm and it was called off.

Steve’s party was on a Tuesday . Steve broke Jonathan’s camera the next day, which was the day of the funeral, as well as the day Will was rescued .

[UPDATE: i missed a day in here, because Steve breaking the camera was a catalyst for Nancy seeing the photos, which led to Nancy and Jonathan going monster hunting, and they spent the night together before Will was rescued. Sorry for the goof!]

Other dates mentioned:

Joyce has worked at Melvalds for ten years

According to Hop, the last missing person was summer of 23, last suicide in 61.

Seven years prior (1976) there was a drowning in the quarry

S2

The season starts on October 30th

Mike says into the walkie that it’s day 352

el tells hop on November 1st that it’s day 326 (since she moved in with Hop). She runs away on day 327.

Wills birthday is March 22nd.

The time skip is implied to be late November/early December (okay honestly i don’t remember how i came to this conclusion, it’s just in my notes. I think the title card must’ve said “one month later” or something.)

^ this is when Hawkins lab gets raided by govt vehicles with Murray watching, as well as Hop getting El’s forged birth certificate. The Snow Ball is around this time as well.

Other dates mentioned:

“Last month a coworker of Ted Wheeler’s” discussed El. Not sure how he blabbed after almost an entire year.

Steve was aiming for early application into college, which was closing soon.

Steve and Nancy were working on their Halloween costumes for “a stupid amount of time”.

At some point between S1 & 2, they took Will to a doctor in Chicago.

Nancy says she waited. Jonathan says only a month.

S3

The only actual date on the timeline I noted was the fourth of July. Sorry. I'd have to count backwards for the rest of the plot points and I guarantee I will count wrong.

There is a time skip for three months later, which would now be October 1985.

Other dates mentioned:

El watches Miami Vice on Fridays. It starts at 10.

The Hawkins Post tagline says "Courage in Journalism since 1947".

The Journal Tribune publishes an article headlined "SCANDAL ROCKS SMALL TOWN" about Starcourt on July 11th, 1985

The Indianapolis Gazette publishes an article headlined "THIRTY DEAD", and the subheader reads "Hero Chief Dies in Fire" on July 15th, 1985

The Journal Tribune publishes an article headlined "MAYOR UNDER FIRE", and above it there is text that reads "Hawkins makes headlines around the nation" on July 12th, 1985

After the three month time skip, a news special on Channel 4 WCPK-TV links Satanism and D&D for the first time within the show

The Byers are packing up after the time skip. Jonathan says, "Seventeen years of my life. Packed up in one day." (kind of impressive tbh)

Mike initially planned on visiting the Byers for Thanksgiving, and El is supposed to come back for Christmas (this obviously does not happen).

S4

The massacre at Hawkins Lab was September 8th, 1979.

(apparently I neglected to take note of any actual Date Dates after this)

The season starts on the Friday before Spring break.

Mike arrives in Lenora on Saturday morning.

El is arrested on Sunday.

Joyce and Murray are told to meet Yuri in two days on a Saturday, which means that episode takes place on a Monday.

The original Creel murders happened in 1959.

When Erica yells at Jason, she says she's been covering for Lucas for two days.

The faux reference latter that Nancy has for Director Hatch is dated March 29th, 1986

Lucas and Max agree to a movie date the following Friday

The death toll two days later is 22

Other dates mentioned:

Max sees Miss Kelly on Thursdays

The Indianapolis Gazette published an article headlined "3 Dead as Police Probe Grisly Scene" about Creel on Thursday, March 18, 1959 (the text on the date is super blurry, I'm mostly confident I got Thursday and March right but I can only mostly tell the date is two digits, and the first digit is a 1)

Victor Creel was back from war for 14 years when he bought the house in Hawkins

Billy was born March 29, 1967

The Nina Project was named after the opera Nina by Nicolas Dalayrac in 1786

Dustin's birthday is in two months, three days, and five hours (from when they reach Suzie)

The dates on Brenner's tapes:

Dustin's shirt says "Craftsbury Banjo Contest" with the year 1986 on it

The Hawkins Presbyterian Church was constructed in 1897

[cheezitthefuzz]

I'm really mad at a uquiz now.

It's based around the article on frogs from middle english wikipedia (which sadly no longer exists).

"A frogge biþ a smal beaste wiþ foure leggys, whyche liueþ booþ in watyre and on londe. It is broune or grene or yelowe, or be it tropyckal, he may haue dyuers coloures. It haþ longys and guilles booþe. It haccheþ from an ey and it þan ys a tadpolle. It groweþ to ben a frogge, if it þan ne be noght eten."

adjusted to more modern spellings:

A frog be-eth a small beast with four legs, which liveth both in water and on land. It is brown or green or yellow, or be it tropical, he may have diverse colours. It hath lungs and gills both. It hatcheth from an egg and it then is a tadpole. It groweth up to be a frog, if it then be not eaten.

pretty normal stuff, right? hard to misinterpret?

Then be not eaten?

thenhaps

no

then

not then

ohohohoho we're off to a STRONG start aren't we? they seem to have interpreted "þan" as a question particle for reasons I truly cannot decipher. the sentence that has it also includes "if" ffs

Be-eth have diverse colours?

ha be-eth an eggs not colours

yes, one

verily diverse

be-eth yet ony(??)

These answers would sound AI-generated in modern english. Not like the modern smooth, corporate AI, more like the stuff that would be on AIWeirdness. "Ha, be eggs not colours?"

It liveth both in water or on land?

water

land

"both" "or" hurts my brain so immediately moving along.

Be-eth you small beast with lungs? (good question for once, missing an article and "ye" is plural but on a logical level it makes some sense)

then is a tadpole, no

if it then be not eaten

yith (?????)

meyhauths (they mean mayhaps but don't fucking REALIZE that THORN is a LETTER)

I kind of thought it was getting better when the question made sense... kill me

Be-eth you small beast with gills both?

ethsollut (absolute? but they're being dumb about thorn again)

no

yith (again bullshit)

then is a tadpole, again (age-reversing frogs???)

more misunderstanding of "booþe"/both

Be-eth you not poiysenth? (i looked up that word and not a single result. it's not in the original article. Best guess is they meant "poisonous" or "poisoned" but what the fuck)

mighth (mighteth? not how you use eth but at least makes some sense)

if it be in the water, it not

egg am cleaneth

verily

so... they think "ey" is "I" for some reason. It's pretty clear even just from context in the original article that it's egg.

Which bugs he be-eth eat? and then I'm not going to even bother respelling the FUCKING answers because OH MY GOD

THOSE ARE JUST. SHITTY ATTEMPTS AT "OLD-FASHIONED" SPELLING OF MODERN BUGS I'M GOING TO GO BACK IN TIME TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING TO GET TURKEYS OFF THE MENU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Be-eth a prytte (pretty?) frog?

no time [i'll rant about this later] to be-eth prytte, must hop ek (??)

meme spelling of disgusting that doesn't even TRY to IMITATE ANY ARCHAIC FORM OF ENGLISH GGAAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHHAAHHA

verily mighth prytte (what)

be it ok (i'm crying)

so about that "taem" thing the middle english word for time is just time. not even spelled differently well sometimes teime or timæ not taem what the genuine fuck taem???? that would be pronounced like "Tan" with an M (I think. I'm not an expert on Middle English THAT'S JUST HOW BAD THIS SHIT IS, SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY KNOWS WHAT THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT COULD FIND TEN MILLION MORE THINGS WRONG WITH IT)

cen (can, but can in middle english is just can or canne) you be domestic [actually acceptable use of long s!]?

no, it be dangerous [horrid spelling] to mankind

yes, be it kind, well-spirited beast

this one is surprisingly decent, i can actually tell what they were going for. They still seem to forget that this is actual language and just use the "quirky" spellings for meme value.

conclusion. this uquiz needs to be plunged into the blazing abyss of the sun middle english is so cool and it actually sounds and looks nice when you do it right but this person fucked it. so much…

EPILOGUE THE RESULT

egg be-eth the yellow frog. the yellow frog is bright [horrid spelling] and hath much both. be it rare [horrid spelling], lieuths (???) in the forets (forest?), in rain [horrid spelling] and wynth (wind?). It is lungs large, for it hothth (FUCK YOU THAT'S NOT A FUCKING P) from try to try.

this is the kind of cartoonishly exaggerated mistranslation you'd see in a movie and think was unrealistic but this person can't fucking translate between ENGLISH and ENGLISH

ah yes i love when i have much both.

[fastcardotmp3]

Nancy & Mike | no CW | 1k words ***In my heart this is part of the METAMORPHOSES universe but none of that is really relevant to reading it I just wanted you to know

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Nancy's not even out of the car yet when he starts demanding things of her, which shouldn't be surprising but is definitely also not exactly called for. She just got back to Hawkins. It's Thanksgiving.

Mike can can it for a minute.

"Did you get more shrill while I was away?" she asks with a deadpanned tone and a sharp lift of her brows in his direction as she climbs out of the driver's seat and moves around to the trunk for her bag.

Four days, she'll be here.

Just four days and then it's home free back to-- Well. As it turns out, to--

"You've been living in Indy?" Mike hisses, chasing her step for step, hand gripping the hatchback as soon as she has it open so they're hidden from the windows over the kitchen sink where their mother is probably watching and waiting, but also so she can't close it and end this conversation.

"Who told you that?" she can't meet his eye. It's not a choice, she can't do it.

"Not you, that's for sure," he snarks.

It's a kind of guilt-inducing thing, as if she doesn't feel guilty enough already, as if the pressure she puts on herself hasn't always been the greatest pressure she could possibly be leveled with.

"Are you gonna tell them?" he jerks his chin towards the house, barely letting his eyes leave her face like he's watching for cracks in her armor to form so he can start swinging more accurately.

"I take it you haven't already, then?" she lets her surprise show, tries and probably fails to hide the relief.

Mike purses his lips, works his jaw, and huffs out a breath like he's exasperated when Nancy knows he's probably just hurt. He always gets particularly pointed when he's hurting.

She's gotten pretty good at being able to tell when it's her fault.

"You usually have a reason for lying," he says, some of the put-upon sharpness leaving his tone, but all of the frustration still there in the firm grip of his hand keeping the trunk open. She has to look up to watch his face shift. God, when did he grow up so much? "It's usually a bullshit reason, but a reason all the same. I guess."

Nancy takes a gamble and peeks towards the front of the house, this house where she grew up in more ways than one, this house where she was a kid pretending at adulthood and this house where she washed blood from her hair when she really did become it.

Their mother is, predictably, craning her neck to get a peek right back at them, and Nancy exhales with the weight of it. The weight of all of it, really.

"I left Emerson," she admits flatly, crossing her arms more out of self-soothing than defensiveness at this point.

"No shit."

"I fucked up, is that what you wanna hear?" Nancy snaps, something thick at the back of her throat, something strong wrapping around it and pinning her to the wall-- "I couldn't hack it and I fucked it all up and now I'm fetching coffees for real journalists while living in a house that doesn't have my name on the lease because I couldn't do it, Mike. Alright?"

There's not a lot about Mike Wheeler that could be labeled as soft, at least not from Nancy's perspective. From the time they were old enough to hold dissenting opinions, they were doing it, grappling for the remote and fighting over the last cookie and simultaneously keeping each other's secrets while holding them over their heads.

That's the dynamic Nancy is comfortable with, the snarky little brother who gets in the way and has an inflated ego to rival some grown men she's suffered, but something about that dynamic falters here.

Tears burning at the back of her eyes, his face goes blurred for a moment, and when she blinks them away?

"Oh--"

A hug. He's big and gangly these days, and it's not the sort of affection they've ever offered each other outside of smile for the camera! hug your brother! pretend you like each other! but Nancy finds that beyond the initial shock it's almost... nice.

"You were really far away," he mutters, all strung together and quick like he's hoping maybe she won't hear the admission at all but just loud enough for it to have all those anxieties in her chest turning her stomach in a brand new way.

Fondness. For her brother. Who would've thought?

"I was too far away," she agrees. She hugs him back. "Indy is better."

He doesn't say anything to agree with that, but the abrupt pulling away and clear of his throat, the dodging of her gaze, the grabbing of her suitcase for her and yanking it out of the trunk-- it's more a language she understands.

Because they've been bickering since they could talk, they've been prickly and combative since day one, but there's always been a part of Nancy who knows they love each other.

No more secrets, they had promised once, and she's failed at that more than she cares to admit, they both have. Maybe her own fresh start, her own escape from the path expected of her out in Boston, maybe it can be a fresh start for them too.

"Mike," she puts a hand on his arm to stop him before he can run away entirely. "I can't tell them yet," a nod towards the house, "I will, but not yet, okay?"

There's a look on his face, like maybe he understands that sentiment better than she realizes. It's something to potentially bring up during her stay back in time in this place.

"Yeah, I got it," he shrugs. "It's not a bad thing though, you not being there anymore. For the record."

"You think?"

"Sure," he starts dragging her suitcase towards the front door and tosses, "just don't fucking lie to me again," over his shoulder in parting.

Nancy breathes deep.

She shuts the trunk and locks the car.

No more secrets.

She's older now; she can do it this time.

[thatkdpoh]

Introduction i think?

Ok so I’ve been like really excited to do this I don’t know why but this is I think controversy? I don’t know how controversy works but this is how it happened.

I am 12 yrs old, My height is 5,1 and holy shit wanna kms but I am 130 pounds. This will flucate and idk how to spell it but it’s like a line with a dot in the front or end and it goes left to right so I flucate to 130 to 140 I hate that.

How I know about ED/Backstory/rant (cringy ik sorry :c :

I was always a fat kid and I’ve hated it, I understand that I didn’t care about my weight but when I was like what 8 to 9 whenever my dad would say cow to me in taqvaylit I don’t know how to write it but I know something’s like amcic or tizizwith or afkroune which is cat, bee and turtle in that order. I would feel self conscious and sometimes cry to because I’m very sensitive which is like cringy i know lol. My heaviest had to been this year like 140 pounds but I think it was water weight and shit. Anyways my mom tried to get me to fast and she would force me or smth maybe not force but like tried to get me to lose weight. She’d say it directly and it would always make me feel bad but like I understand being 130 for like 8 yrs or 9 to 12 is very heavy and embarrassing considering I always saw kids would be more skinner than me I’d feel very bad. Until recently like last year in 6th grade I was reading fanfics of a human au of TMNT i didnt know what ED’s were so when it showed up the word bulimia I thought it meant bullshit but it didn’t sound right so I searched it up and saw the symptoms that’s when I also learned about anorexia and pica etc. When I saw the symptoms I started copying them now this is the part that I think is controversy I copied the symptoms which I know was bad but I was fucking lazy and still am couldn’t do a workout for the life of me or restrict food, I was used to eating a lot and when I saw the symptoms I copied them and they worked!! I loved it and then the minute I knew how to starve myself, I actually don’t know how to continue with that but I didn’t know how much of a deeper hole I got into but I really loved it and still do EMBARRASING. I did do exercise I did like 100 sit ups a day which did nothing but it did make my body ache and stopped, 5th grade was the worst out of all my grades for now but 6th might be second but it wasn’t that bad just a lot of crying and seeing how fat I am made me cry that’s it. Now if I don’t starve at all or try too I would feel like shit. In 6th grade I also saw that purging was a symptom so I made myself throw up but only if I ate way to fucking much and I’m so bloated it hurts and I can’t take the pressure so I throw up just to take off a little pressure and go back but then I’d feel sick which sucked :C. When Ramandan came though I was A BEAST not an actual beast but like it was my oppertuinity to fast without anyone questioning because I live in a studio apartment with 5 other people that are my family >_<. Obviously with my blabber mouth which I hate told everything to my mom but I think she thinks that I’m ok now :D. Any way I’d only eat 5 tablespoons of soup every night and I was very tired and I lost 6 pounds!! Which isn’t a lot but I made it to 124 pounds!! But then I gained it all back in summer break, cried, tried to fast for 3 days but fainted on the 36 hour?? I’m not sure because when I stopped the fast because my mom told me to eat and spoiler alert I cried cause I have little bitchitas if u know Kubz scouts u know. I paused at the 38 hour so like 36 is my highest to fast which is embarrassing again. ANYWAY NOW IM IN 7TH GRADE STUGGLIJG EITH THIS THINGY :]] I sound like those I guess I deserve it heh thing but like no I’m not seriously I just wanted to be silly. Anyway I’m gonna try that ABC diet which I think seems kind of mid to hard but I think fitnesspal would help me with it <33

BYE EVERYONE HAVE A GREAT DAY OR NIGHT HAVE A GREAT THANKSGIVING SND MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! :33

[scandalous-smut]

Ever work in a kitchen? It's a hot, thankless job that can crush the souls of the people that are passionate about the job. We are the ones that will pick up the slack when someone doesn't give a shit, the ones that never request days off; I'm beyond happy that my current job won't allow us to cash out PTO. As I've cashed out pto the last 5 years and continued working, because of being underpaid I couldn't afford to not make the overtime on my check.

It's bullshit how we never get the holidays off, requesting a child's birthday a month in advance is often denied because of being understaffed; which often happens because of being understaffed, from being underpaid. It's torture in our mental health, and #scandalous by nature. They know most of us have no passive income, and can not afford to miss a day's work, even to celebrate your son's first birthday, his first thanksgiving, his soon-to-be first Christmas -- nope, we continue to work, cooking food for the masses that choose to eat out on holidays.

Then there are times that family emergencies happen, and you NEED to take time; but it becomes a choice of do I continue to support my family, or be there for my family and end up homeless or without necessary utilities.

My father's lung cancer came back and his treatments are daily for the next two weeks, and I can't afford to take the time off to drive him to and from. So when it starts getting bad for him, he will end up sleeping in his car, 54 miles from home. My dilemma? I'm already so far behind that I can't afford to take the fucking time off to do this for him, or I risk my two son's and fiancée's place to live, my place to live, my father's place to live. Two weeks, I'd be so far behind I would end up homeless. Someone who has almost 7 years experience in a kitchen and I can't make enough money to help the person who instilled this unrealistic sense of work ethic in me, my father.

It is absolutely soul crushing, knowing I have to make a choice this unreasonable, this unrealistic. A choice NO ONE should ever have to make; keep the family that created me warm and fed, or help my father that created me through his lung cancer treatments.

I don't often pray, as I'm not a very spiritual person. I have been praying about this choice and what I should do since he told me two weeks ago. I pray that no one else ever feels this sense of failure and loss of direction. I pray no one ever has to make a choice like this.

Tbc my phone is dying and I don't wanna lose this.

So it took me a bit of time to get back to this. I did not turn my phone back on that night, just spending time with my son's, fiancée, and father. I chose to help him, and amazingly enough my chef's were more than understanding. It is still crushing me, but I have actually picked up a few side jobs using my talents in reading and writing to make some extra bucks. (If you need some writing done, I can save you the time so you can focus on what you need to do elsewhere!)

I guess in the end, it all worked out; at least for now, I am not a very religious person, but I have been lifting prayers up to keep him in good health. My two son's adore their pawpaw, and I don't even want to think about a world with no parents.

[never-not-ever]

With each day that passes I get more and more angry with myself for how long this stay has been.

I’m trying to get a pass for Thanksgiving and I’m going to talk to my team about it tomorrow. Tonight I’ve been so anxious just thinking of it. What I’m going to say.. what I would do if they say no. What’s going to happen if they say yes…

It’s been so long that I’ve been “safe” and the longer it goes on the worse it’s going to be when I slip up.

Nov 1st I was put on the 1:1 for the first time. I was on it that Wednesday and the following day. Friday 3rd she took me off it in the morning and then later that night at almost midnight I was put back on it. I was on it Saturday 4th- Tuesday 14th. Ten full days of hell.

So I’ve now been off it almost a week. And nothing has happened. Yet…

I’m still on 5s and I still haven’t gotten level 2 privileges (able to go outside on fresh air walks). I still don’t have all my clothes back or other little nicknacks. I still don’t have my toiletries which sucks to always have to ask for them.

I’m hoping to get all this back tomorrow. And get to go outside again.

I’m not “planning” anything. Especially since I know that she’s going to put me back on the 1:1 if anything happens. So if I self harm it’s like I’m saying I want to go back on it. Like I want that attention. Ugh. I’m not planning anything but I just have this feeling deep in my gut that I’m going to end up doing something. I haven’t hit that point yet where I’ve had enough of my bullshit and start building myself up again. I honestly don’t know how long or if that’ll ever happen. These suicidal thoughts and this depression seems like it’s gotten worse this past week. My time here-it’s already been so fucking long but I know I’m nowhere ready to leave yet. And I just know it’s a matter of time before I disappoint everyone again.

[docholligay]

There's worse things Midge can grow up to be than a tiktok influencer, right?

I mean she could be a venture capitalist or a landlord, so I guess.

I mean, I make my living on the internet so far be it from me to tell her she can't, but if she did I'd prefer she was a creative: Writer, artist, etc. Or an analyst like her papa. Even if you does like, youtube videos, which I do hate, and lives her entire life making meetings out of what could have been emails, but they're about something--history, art, etc--great!

But like, if she's just spreading bullshit on tiktok to become a spokesmodel for Shein or whatever, yeah, I'm not gonna be super proud of her. And maybe that makes me a shitty parent! But bitch I was hot at 21 too, we just didn't have TikTok so I could embarrass myself in front of thousands with tepid --you know as I'm sitting here thinking about this? The issue is I don't want her to have companies sponsor her. Once companies start sponsoring you, you have to lie in order to get more sponsorship. I don't like it, it feels greasy. Don't get me wrong, coupons, even free product, as long as you aren't chasing more free product, are I think, pretty normal for low level folks. But like..."Jewlet's cooking corner, sponsored by Hershey!" We're gonna have a fuckin fight.

Unfortunately I am not super morally flexible in some ways, and while that is in some ways a boon and laudable of me, and I am rarely (though of course I am human) a hypocrite, but in the bad way, I can see myself being like, "Am i supposed to applaud you getting 40 new pieces of clothing a year?"

But then again, I know the thing on the internet is we're supposed to support our kids no matter what, and I do not get with that exactly. If Jewlet does something for a living that opposes my values system...yes I'm going to think less of her for it?? I mean, I'm not gonna, probably, be like, "YOU CAN'T COME TO THANKSGIVING!!" but if she's taking cash from, oh fuck I don't even know who's all sponsoring that shit now, Tesla, yeah I'm not gonna act like my little baby is living my greatest dream.

And of course, this isn't easy or smooth. If she could somehow convince me that she had integrity while taking cash from, we'll go back to Hershey, great. But I'm not sure I think that could happen, depending on the company, and so, where do we make the line of profiting by bad behavior?

People are gonna come at me with this, because A) they want a bright line and B) they want to believe that unless we are Exxon itself, we are in no way responsible for our contributions to how society words (unless we're using terminology people don't like) but neither of those is true! It's a complicated tangle, but how we choose to engage with things also DOES matter.

[repentarium]

Me: maybe a cute little holiday sorry will Help Me, the working title is gonna be Season's Greasons lol

Also me: >16k later it's getting a silly Wham! xmas song lyrics. Bon appetit.

Featuring holiday angst, diy rage room, Gremlins, gremlins, a tree named Fangorn, a panic attack at the hardware store, Trauma™️, and a happy ending (not like that).

Merry crisis!

Excerpt below.

After Steve was old enough (in his parents eyes) to be left at home with paper money and a credit card, they stopped making it a big deal. Christmas, that is.

When he was younger, they could dress him up like a little handsome doll and slick his hair back and make sure he kept his bowtie on just right all through their coworkers’ holiday parties and all through the dinners and the photos and the cheek kisses.

Of course the parties were horribly boring; he was always the youngest kid there, the food tasted weird, and he had to sit quietly for basically the whole time, which he wasn’t very good at.

His Christmas memories are mostly of too many lights, too many people who are too drunk and too loud, and all the various times he was taken to the side to be screamed at by his dad for being ‘out of line’. In a closet or a foyer or a spare room or the top of the steps, away from the eyes of the people who might have judged them. Always, after, his dad’s face turned into a happy mask again, and he would smooth his own hair and it’s like he willed the beet-red angry blush of his cheeks to calm. Steve would be left to trail after him, grabbing at the sleeve of his suit jacket. If he was still teary-eyed at all his dad would rip the sleeve out of his hand and walk faster.

After his parents decided he was old enough to be left alone, they’d still hired the decorators to come in, so there would be a perfectly-lit tree in the window and staged empty presents and everything would look twinkly and warm and dramatic. They'd take some photos and then leave for most of the season.

This time they'd told him they aren't hiring the decorators again; his parents hadn't been to the house in Loch Nora all year. Even after all the repairs and the government cover ups, they just stayed away. The last Steve heard, they were going to sell it. They had hated Hawkins even when it was just a normal American dream kinda town, and now it's just a poorly patched dark house in a poorly patched dark town. What was the point?

For the holidays they had some sort of company get together in Chicago, where his dad’s main offices were and then… the Bahamas? Brazil? Some warm place that starts with a ‘B’ he thinks. It doesn’t really matter. It’s gonna be like all the other years in a lot of ways, but he wasn’t going to have a big King Steve party.

He probably could throw another rager, he’s honestly sure it’d be easy and familiar and like flexing a muscle. No one hated him so much, even after everything, that they’d turn down a rager.

But it made his skin itch to think about it. Buying the beer and liquor and snacks, seeing everyone fight over the hot tub, everything smelling like stale beer and perfume and maybe someone’s soft hands on his face which, while it might be nice in theory, if he's being honest with himself the whole charade was too much.

All this to say, there’s no rager. He’s thinking he’ll have a repeat of Thanksgiving, which his parents were also away for. A frozen tv dinner (he bought an extra when he got the esteemed Thanksgiving Dinner Meal two weeks ago), some kind of spritzy wine cocktail he bullshits his way through, some movie he borrowed from Family Video. Maybe he'll get some lights. No big deal.

It’s the kind of thing that’s only really sad if you let it be, and Steve’s had a whole life of not letting things be sad. It’s self-preservation, but it’s worked so far.

He’s got a couple of weeks still, but he knows the holiday movies go fast so he’s rummaging through them during his shift, planning to squirrel the one he wants away so no one gets to it first. He’s about to give up and just plan to turn something on the tv honestly, it’s all kids movies and love stories and they’re just making him feel worse.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon before school’s out so there’s nothing going on; ample opportunity for Eddie to come in and hang out, which he’s taken advantage of. Steve has joked a lot about the trauma bond that you get out of the Upside Down but it’s kind of not a joke. You save the world with someone, you save their lives and they save yours, and it means something.

Eddie’s there now, sitting cross-legged on the counter, and he and Robin are painting each other’s nails. A bright red that they’ve decided is ‘festive’, which had made Steve roll his eyes.

He was startled out of his studying by all the yelling, so he wanders over, both of them shoving their hands in his face and making him pull his head back so he doesn’t smudge anything.

‘Very cute.’

‘Thank you, King Steve. I think I am.’

‘We know you think you are.’ Robin scoffs and grabs the nail polish, raising an eyebrow at Steve. ‘You want?’

‘Someone’s gotta actually do the work around here, Robs.’

‘Yeah it’s swamped.’ Eddie hops off of the counter, gestures around the ghost town of the shop, and wanders over to where Steve had abandoned the holiday display.

Robin grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him until he’s flush against the counter, stretched across it, and starts painting his nails delicately with the tip of her tongue poked out in focus. She’s gotten really good at this since they started working here; it’s not the kind of thing that would slide at the food court, but it’s safe here, as long as Keith doesn’t catch them and they don’t wreck anything in the process.

By the time Robin’s finished painting Steve’s nails, Eddie has come back over and slapped a VHS onto the counter next to Steve. He cranes his neck and sees the cover.

‘This is the one you want, babe.’

‘Eh. It looks… creepy. I don’t really do horror after all the, you know. Horrors.’

Eddie clutches his heart a little dramatically. ‘It’s not creepy, Steven, it’s cinema. It’s iconic!’

‘I’ll consider it.’ he sighs.

'Consider it a little harder. It's the right choice.' Eddie grabs the VHS box and walks it back into the employee office, probably putting it in Steve's jacket pocket like some awful reverse pickpocket, or like a niche Santa.

When he comes back, he's carrying a little piece of paper and his eyebrows are confused.

'I wasn't snooping, first off. Secondly, aren't you already all fancied up? I thought your folks' kind got the work done early and by someone else.'

It's just a little list that says 'lights, movie, tree(???), that sparkly plastic stuff'. If he didn't write it down he'd walk out of the store empty handed.

'Oh. They're selling the house apparently. They won’t be back, so…' they don't care. He shrugs.

'So you're decorating yourself?!' Robin is somehow excited and devastated. 'Are you going to be alone for the holidays Steve?! You're an asshole for not saying anything sooner, you could have come over for Thanksgiving!'

Eddie is still gawking at Steve like he's some kicked and broken puppy looking for a home and it's making him feel so fucking small.

'Robs it's fine, this is, like, normal for me, it's not a big deal. It's not a Thing, I've never really done big celebrations for the holidays, you know that. We're going to have our little Party Christmas and that's just fine for me.

'Steven. You are coming over to my house after work, that settles it.' Eddie grabs a pen from the desk and scribbles out 'movie', then tucks the list into a pocket. The pen gets tossed at Steve, but it bounces off of his chest and lands back on the counter.

'Ed - it's fine, I'm fine!'

'That's not what people who are fine say.' Robin says under her breath.

'I'm going home after work, it's a Wednesday. I open tomorrow.'

'It's not gonna take long. You'll get your beauty sleep.' Eddie raises a dramatic wave and walks out of the store with Steve protesting at his back.

'Sounds like you don’t really have a choice here, pal.'

Steve throws the pen at Robin; she ducks and snaps at him until he sighs and brings his hand back over to her so she can touch up the smudged polish.

—

No matter how many times he'd repeated to himself that he wasn't going to Eddie and Wayne's new place across town, he found himself parked outside the apartment with his forehead against the steering wheel, chill slowly seeping into the parked car.

He jolts at a rapping at the passenger window. Eddie is standing there with a cardboard box, and he nods at Steve to open the door.

Steve leans across to pull open the passenger door, and the box is dropped unceremoniously into the seat.

'Come upstairs!' Eddie smiles at him over the box.

'Sorry, I was pretending I didn't exist for a minute.' When Eddie pinches his upper arm Steve leaves the car, makes a big deal of wincing and rubbing his arm, grumbles and follows upstairs anyway.

'Wayne's out, but I wanted to show off the tree!'

It’s hard to miss the lights even from the street, but when they push through the door into the apartment it’s still a shock that they’ve crammed so much festive into the space.

The tree is tall enough that the top is slightly bent against the ceiling; the lights are all sorts of colors, the ornaments are a mess. He can see a few standard colorful baubles, but most of the decorations seem to be completely random - there's some little stuffed animal, like the kind you get from a claw machine. A tiny wrench. A couple of small framed photos that seem to be a grinning child Eddie. A couple of clay things probably made by that Eddie child.

'There's so much to see!' Steve chuckles, kind of delighted, and when he looks over, Eddie is beaming proudly.

'We used to have a lot more, we lost a couple of boxes in the Apocalypse.'

'I don't think it'd stay standing if you crammed anything else on.' He's examining some sort of horrible popsicle stick creation with pipe cleaners and googly eyes that he thinks it's supposed to be Rudolph.

'No way, we always get the strongest tree.'

'It smells… green.'

Eddie is just watching him take it all in, but his smile is falling a little. Steve hopes he hasn't insulted him, he just has never seen anything like this.

Steve hasn't spent a ton of time at Eddie's place, but the difference from the last time he'd picked him up was startling - it wasn't like when the decorators came to Steve's hours, when everything was trim and restrained and delicately sparkling. This was honestly practically gaudy, but it was fun and it was homey and friendly. There were stockings across the wall behind the TV, lights and sparkly plastic nonsense anywhere it could physically be. It all felt glowy and warm, and all at once it made Steve feel loss for something he'd never had. It's only sad if you let it be.

'I know, it's kinda trashy but I guess it fits.' Eddie's hands raise out in a gesture that says 'after all, look at me'.

'No!' Steve snaps out of his oncoming sadness, pushes it aside. 'It's awesome, Eddie. I've never seen anything like it, it's so happy.'

That perks Eddie back up a little, even if it makes him blush a little and kick his foot. 'It's not exactly designer. I bet you've seen some real fancy stuff.'

Steve scoffs. 'Our tree was the same every year. Only white lights, a bunch of glass ornaments, Tiffany of course. Red bows. Boring.'

'That's rough.'

Steve nods at him soberly and goes back to the tree. 'This would never fly.' He lifts a little G. I. Joe figure hogtied to the top of a hot wheel car in Eddie's direction. 'What even is this?'

'Heist gone wrong.'

'Do the army guys do a lot of heists?'

'No, that's why he messed this one up so bad.'

'He needs to learn to plan a little better.'

'Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, he's in mortal danger.'

[clunelover]

- my crown is back on

- Xmas was good until the very end in which I thought my husband implied to me that he worked harder than I did on Christmas (which, he was not implying that…damn alcohol) and I went off on him about everything I did and how nobody appreciates me and I can’t offload any tasks to him cause he doesn’t know how to do anything (gross overstatement - there’s some of that, but a lot of it is me being a control freak/refusing to let go of any “must dos” that I really should) so yeah that was a rough one! We’re okay now. Going to at least do dry January, and maybe dry…LIFE? But I’m only committing to January for now because I don’t want to think farther.

- I think I do also need to figure out Something for thanksgiving and Christmas. I CAN host both but idk if I want to! And maybe other people don’t have the room to host but maybe I don’t give a shit! Maybe we’ll go somewhere instead! All I know is, this year I felt Tremendous Dread in between the two holidays and it sucked ass and I don’t want to have that again

- we are now on a family vacation to a family fun type place that has already got me overstimulated and exhausted and sick of bad food but we are here til Friday

- my supposedly sober and taking vivitrol stepmom is in Florida with her mom and sister B + sister’s GF and sister caught her drinking, just super brazenly (water bottle of vodka at the pool). She’s been in Florida for a few weeks and says as soon as she got there she started drinking. I thought that’s not possible with vivitrol (well not actually impossible but it makes it so you don’t get drunk even if you try to drink, as well as curbing cravings) but as it turns out she was on the pill of that and not the shot, so she must have just stopped taking it! Stepmom is at her Airbnb alone while sister+ GF sleep at my step-grandma’s, and she sent a message to sister saying that tomorrow she’s going to call a sober living house back home and see about getting in there, but that’s always so fishy to me, when they’re immediately all compliant. Usually means more bullshit is on the way. This current iteration of rollercoaster got kicked off last Christmas actually! She’s been to rehab twice in this past year.

…and yes I see the irony in me being in a cycle of stopping drinking, resuming drinking, remembering why I stopped in the first place, stopping again…while this is what’s going on with stepmom and sometimes other family members. I’ve never had the level of problem they do, but I know that’s not really the point.

[oliviahallwriting]

Chapter 4

When Tom had applied to Loftman State the year before, he’d glanced at the graduation requirements. For some reason he needed at least one introductory humanities course to get a degree, even in landscape architecture. Kind of bullshit, he’d thought. Just a ploy to keep students paying for longer than they needed. It wasn’t like the classes were generally useful, either. Most of the classes in the category looked like one-way tickets to becoming the most obnoxious kind of person imaginable.

There had also been a few “history and culture” classes in the list, which were also niche, but definitely a better choice. He’d decided to take one of the Hispanic cultural classes in his winter term to get it out of the way. It’d be a breeze. His mom would have taught him some of it already, and besides, it’d be nice to get to his roots. 

That had been the plan, until he’d discovered, with only minutes to spare on the class-application site, that every Hispanic-culture class was across campus. More damningly, all of them met before nine in the morning. So he’d resigned himself to “Intro to Gender.” A lame and unnecessary subject, according to the pundits his abuelo watched, but at least it met at 11 and was only halfway across the school.

He’d been prepared to hate the class. But now, a few days into the course, Tom admitted to himself that he kind of…didn’t. Not that he’d say so to his family, of course. It was just that the subject was a little weirder than he’d expected. Sure, some of the vocabulary was clunky, and he’d had to tell himself that apparently internet teenagers hadn’t made it all up, but he powered through it. Soon enough, he’d started to save his gender readings for last, as a treat.

A few days before the party, Tom had raised his hand for the first time in the connected discussion section. The instructor had given a prompt about masculinity in Latin communities.

“So, my mom’s Colombian, and my dad’s white,” he’d started. “A few years ago, a lot of people on her side of the family were over for Christmas. It was a full house. It was also the first time my dad had met most of them. He got along okay, but he’s always been quiet, and I could tell he wasn’t super comfortable. A lot of people in the house, over for several days. It was kind of a lot; I don’t blame him. Anyway, one of those days, me and most of the guys were hanging out in the garage. We were talking about sports and shit. Cars, too, at least they were, and Colombian politics. Talking pretty crudely about ch—about women, I mean. And my dad was keeping up great. He was shooting the shit about all of it. Except for the sports, I’d never heard him talk that way. He’d only talked to me about girls, like, once. Later I caught him reading a website, some political site, and he confessed to me that he’d researched a lot of it the day before my mom’s family had arrived. He’d asked my mom what her family liked to talk about, and how. Regional Spanish slang and whatever. Even the stuff about the differences between Colombian and American girls, he’d apparently looked up on forums.”

The discussion lecturer had taken a moment before replying, and pointed to a phrase on the blackboard. Decades into the twenty-first century, and the discussion classes still used blackboards.

“So, you think your dad was code-switching?”

“I guess, sure, but he didn’t know the code already. Even some of the stuff he thinks is natural, like how to interact with women. He wasn’t confident enough to learn it on the fly. I don’t know, maybe he had to gas himself up to talk like they did. There were a few drinks involved.”

“Huh, interesting,” the lecturer replied. “Thanks for your contribution.”

That had all been the week before. Now it was the third Tuesday of the semester, and nine days to Thanksgiving. Tom swore he could feel it in the student body as he walked to his gender-studies lecture.

The professor strode back and forth on the stage, chatting to the front row of the lecture hall. The subject of the day had to be a personal favorite. 

The professor went by “Dr. Espinoza” and used “they” as a pronoun. It had taken several days for Tom to get the hang of it. For a while he’d had to imagine a class where he couldn’t see the professor, and imagined them as someone in a crowd who he couldn’t quite make out. But it had worked, and now he was reasonably confident that he wouldn’t insult them if he went to their office hours.

A slideshow projected on two screens on the back of the stage read “Gender Expression.” Tom looked at it blankly, having struggled through the material the night before. Not every reading for the class was interesting. After the third page describing gender identity and expression, he’d given up. At least his landscape-architecture readings had pictures and charts to break up the prose.

It hadn’t helped that he’d been distracted. Why would Vanessa think he was gay? Why would there have been an FBI agent around Ashman? And, if there was nothing to the email, why did Dr. Florence look startled when he read it, and why did those two girls in the lounge run away from him?

Dr. Espinoza started their lecture. Tom knew it was rude, but he took out his phone to read the email’s wording again. His mind was racing enough that there was no way he could focus anyway. It was either look at the probably-nothing email or deliberate on what Vanessa had gestured towards at the party, and that wasn’t happening.

“Find aid,” the message read. Tom hadn’t tried to find Kiyana since the office hour he’d had with his grandma. After class, he’d check out some science clubs. Social media, too. Basically all college chicks—women—were online somewhere.

Dr. Espinoza’s voice lilted into a question, and they called on someone near the back to answer.

The student cleared their throat. “Well, as a trans guy,” he started.

There weren’t many men in the class, trans or no. Unless that wasn’t what the guy had meant. Tom hadn’t ever understood where the phrase “trans man” meant someone was a man or woman or whatever. 

Tom looked behind him, curious, and heard a few of his classmates follow suit.

The student who replied definitely came across as a man, at least, with his style and haircut. He “performed” as a man, Tom supposed, trying to remember any of the lecture from the past ninety minutes. 

“Gender performativity is an okay idea, and it’s fine that people have a broader idea than the hegemonic binary model,” the student started. 

He looked decent, Tom decided. Had a charismatic way of speaking, too. If Tom were gayer he’d have called him a “twink”. Then the student paused, and looked down at a few of the students who’d turned around. His eyes briefly met Tom’s before moving on to the rest of the crowd. He kept talking, like he was giving a speech.

“But even gender spectrums shouldn’t be the end point in the conversation. It still leans into the idea that people are a combination of masculine and feminine, but we don’t even need to give them that much. Why call different facets masculine? Feminine? If gender abolition is our goal, we need to commit to it.”

Another student raised her hand, so Dr. Espinoza called on her to respond.

“Should it be our goal?” The girl asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” the dude said. “I don’t think dissolving the legal distinction to gender means people’s individual identities will change. All I’m saying is we don’t need to frame anything in gendered terms.”

“Some would say that this kind of thinking allows patriarchy to thrive.”

“I, uh,” the guy started, and faltered a little. “I’d imagine we can tackle that separately. Or maybe a broader view of gender would make it easier to oppose oppressive structures.”

“And if we can’t? If it doesn’t?”

“Then you’re implying that, what, men are biologically predisposed to oppress themselves and others? That’s wrong.”

There was a little murmur in the room. The girl who’d been arguing with the guy behind him sat down.

Dr. Espinoza nodded and turned to the student who’d been speaking. 

“So, without taking too much more time, because I know we’re almost done with class, what would you be proposing?”

“I, um, I’m not sure. It’s a hell of a battle, right? All I know is what a better world could look like, at the end of it. I guess we could start with education. Abolishing conversion therapy, too. Whatever supports fluid modes of being.”

With that, the guy sat down. The lecture ended, and students filed out from Tom’s row. He kept sitting, trying to parse what the student had talked about. He’d definitely sounded like he knew what he was talking about. 

Probably a humanities major, Tom thought, amused. How else would someone be that pretentious without having actual policy solutions?

The student who’d spoken left his row and walked down the column. Tom followed him out the building. The guy was pretentious, sure, but also kind of interesting, and Tom wasn’t about to let him escape. 

Tom caught the guy in the hall.

“Hey,” he started.

The other one looked up. He had intense, dark eyes, otherwise gentle features, and came across as simultaneously intense and gentle. It had to take a lot of effort to pull off both simultaneously, Tom thought, a little impressed in spite of himself. Just because he didn’t care much about appearances didn’t mean it wasn’t its own art.

And then he felt a little stupid, because he’d just had a class on gender performativity, and he was talking to someone who was trans. There might have been more at play than simple aesthetics.

“Hi, what’s up?” The guy said. “I think I’ve seen you in class before.”

Tom hadn’t, until a few minutes ago. It was a class of at least one hundred and fifty, and the lecture hall had balcony seating.

“I liked your answer,” Tom said. “Kinda profound or some…uh, something.” 

“Oh, that? Yeah, I don’t know. I just kept saying words.” He looked at Tom and cocked his head a little. “My name’s Jun, by the way.”

“Tom.”

They shook hands. It wasn’t that formal of a gesture, more of a sidelong, small motion from Jun as they walked down the hall. But Tom fumbled it a little; he hadn’t done the whole shake-hands-and-make-eye-contact thing since his job interviews the previous summer. To his knowledge, he’d never formally introduced himself to his high school friends.”

“You want to have lunch or something?” Tom asked. “I have an hour.”

Jun smiled. His eyes crinkled a little bit. “Yeah, totally. Have you tried the chili fries at the SIC?”

The SIC was the Student Information Complex. Tom had visited it only twice, once as a touring high schooler. The complex had several centers for various types of students, like those looking for scholarships, and those in work-study. He would’ve forgotten about the place after the tour, had his mom not pestered him to check it out a week into the school year. It had been a hassle, but he’d wrung a whole fifty dollars from admin for two hours of his time.

There might’ve been a few other rooms. No chili fries, though; he’d have remembered that.

“I didn’t know the SIC had chili fries.”

“Yeah, there’s a cafe next to the Quirby.”

Tom looked at him blankly.

“You know, the Queer and Intersectional Resources building.”

“That’s the Quirby?” Tom would’ve bet money that “queer” was a little too loaded to use in a building’s title.

“Yeah. It’s shorthand. For the acronym.”

“No, I get that. Never mind.”

“Because it’s inclusive.”

Tom didn’t reply for a bit, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of another. It was getting a little strange.

“Tom? You do know that that word ‘queer’ is inclusive, right?”

“I, uh, I guess.” At the least, his gender-studies professor was comfortable enough with using it. “Can we drop it?”

“Because it’s mostly considered an insult because of the trans-exclusionary movement and its adoption by well-meaning liberals. Oh, uh, sure, yeah, I’ll drop it.”

“Thanks.”

Jun changed the conversation to food and hobbies.. Tom enjoyed the lighter topics. Apparently Jun was one of the founders of the Audio/Visual club on campus, and sometimes studied at the Quirby between classes.

“My next class is anthro,” Jun said.

“Furry shit? God, I’ll walk away right now.” Tom gave him a friendly little smack on the shoulder. Or, he was trying to, but Jun frowned, and rubbed his shoulder a little. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way or anything.”

“It’s okay,” Jun said, but he was still frowning. “I mean, anthropology and anthropomorphic share a root word.”

“Anthropologists go to Somalia or whatever, right?”

Jun nodded. “Or wherever they can find some human-interest story. There was a pretty famous study some guy did where he became a crime lord for a couple days in a major city. Forgot which one. Philadelphia, maybe, or L.A. The devil in the city of angels.”

“Wow. Was that the title, or was the dude just that pretentious?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I made that up. So the latter. The book was kind of interesting, though they couldn’t use it as a true study.”

Tom mumbled acknowledgement and they kept walking. The Student Information Complex turned out to be far from both his gender-studies class and his next lecture. Not too bad; he could probably skip the next class anyway. He knew enough about basic math from high school. Maybe Jun’s anthro class was closer.

Tom looked over to find Jun staring at him. He was a little startled at the directness of the eye contact—the guy had quite a stare.

“You wouldn’t actually walk away from me if I were a furry, right? Fursona, fursuit, everything?”

“What? I don’t know. Probably.”

“Yeah? Because there are better reasons than that.”

“I guess it depends how embarrassing you were about it,” Tom said. He felt like he was at a job interview.

“That’s what matters to you? How embarrassing something is?”

“I don’t, uh, I haven’t thought about it, I guess. Why? Are you?”

Jun shook his head.

Tom let out a nervous chuckle. Who talked like this when meeting someone? Furries were like politics; you didn’t bring them up on a first date. Not that this was a date, obviously.

He actually had talked politics on a first date before. One of his girlfriends had brought up her supposedly-hot takes about welfare, but it had been a pretty boring conversation, as he remembered. Most politics were, but that might be because his own politics weren’t that weird or radical or anything. Maybe Jun’s were; he seemed like the type.

Jun was continuing his little rant, for some reason.

“It’s just that they get a lot of hate online for doing basically nothing, and it’s a red flag to me when someone hates them for no reason other than that they’re embarrassed. Shows me they haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.” Tom couldn’t imagine reading this much into other people’s opinions.

Jun laughed. “Sorry, I know I can get kind of intense. I basically only talk to comms and social sciences majors.”

At least he was different from the people in the residence hall, Tom thought, as they ordered fries. Tom’s were chili, Jun’s were garlic-parmesan.

“The Quirby has the best seats on campus,” Jun said, and gestured to one of the doorways in the building. “ Honestly. I’m not saying that to trick you to go inside.”

Tom hesitated. He wasn’t about to insult the guy again, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable with sitting there. He didn’t belong, not really. Not that anyone would ask. He just wouldn’t want to take a seat from a lesbian or something.

“If they ask, say you’re dating me,” Jun said. “We’d be like one of those romance webcomics. The ol’ fake-relationship schtick.”

Tom laughed. “You read those?”

“Maybe,” Jun dragged out the word, a smile creasing his eyes.

They walked into the Quirby, which was much larger than Tom had thought, comprising several rooms connected by open archways. Sofas, padded chairs, and beanbags took up the corners of the main sitting area. Another room had a built-in closet, which had a bunch of different dresses and suits. A different area held a bookshelf and a serve-yourself tea stand, complete with a pot of loose-leaf tea and a coffee machine. It was impressive that the space didn’t look cramped.

The successes of the Quirby’s interior design didn’t carry over to its embellishments, though. An array of different palettes clashed on the wall, drawing Tom’s gaze too rapidly and to too many different areas. He supposed that was inescapable, a consequence of the many different groups his gender professor had relayed to the class all having their own flag. His favorite one was the “ace” flag, a term for a community he’d only learned about that day. The splash of purple against monochrome was relatively minimal, even classy.

Tom had his doubts whether such a group really existed. Or, at least, in high enough numbers to be worth treating as more than some obscure Internet group. Supposedly they were only a few percentage points of the population, but even that felt high. To his knowledge, he’d never seen an ace person in the wild. More of the inverse, really. Increasingly he felt like no one around him shut up about their own desires, though, admittedly, they might have been faking.

According to an announcement board on one of the walls, the aces had a dedicated club, which couldn’t have gathered more than a few people. Ironically, the board stood next to a pamphlet about STD prevention and an open package of condoms, which was almost empty.

A few other club listings were posted. Several STEM clubs were hosting a combined party the week after Thanksgiving, and, in two months’ time, there was some kind of engineering showcase. The deaf and hearing-impaired students had their own club, too, which wasn’t surprising. Loftman himself had been deaf, and made sure the university was accommodating. As a result the university drew in a sizable contingent of hearing-impaired people. Tom occasionally saw people signing to each other on campus. More importantly, it meant that almost every lecture was transcribed, available online, and skippable.

Only two other people were in the Quirby, enjoying the tea station, so Tom and Jun were alone in the main sitting room. The seats were, in fact, more comfortable than the other chairs on campus. Definitely more so than the main library; beautiful as the building was, the wooden benches were insulting. 

“You have more classes today?” Tom asked, munching on a fry, which was delicious. Not too crispy or greasy, and with properly-seasoned chili, which wasn’t that common. “Besides the furry one.”

“Yeah, I have Comms this evening, for my major.”

“Communications?”

“Yeah, I know. You can make fun of me. But I swear I took it because I liked the subject.”

“It’s fine. You could go to five ragers a week and I wouldn’t knock you for it.”

“Doubtful. But parties aren’t really my scene.”

Made sense enough. The Venn diagram between people who knew about the Quirby and people who went to Comms parties had to be two circles.

“What do you even learn in Comms?”

Jun shot him a look.

Tom shrugged. “Sorry, I’m sure you learn things or whatever. I’m just curious.”

“You have a way with words,” Jun said.

“Thanks.”

“We learn media literacy and training so we don’t get, you know, destroyed in the marketplace of ideas.”

“Sure,” Tom said, though he wasn’t sure what Jun was talking about. He ate the last few fries. A shame; it meant that he’d lose his excuse to postpone his next class. According to the pink, white, and blue-striped clock on the wall, it was one-ten. He was already late. More importantly, he couldn’t continue the conversation, which he was warming to.

“Wait a minute,” Tom continued. “So you aren’t specializing in gender studies. Did you already know it? That shit in class, I mean.”

“Glad you liked it. And yeah, some of it comes with the territory,” Jun said, gesturing broadly to himself. “Out of the required classes I could take, this was the easiest.

Tom finished his fries.

Jun continued. “So, I’m guessing you’re in business?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m in landscape architecture.”

Jun’s eyes shot up. “Really? Huh.”

“Yeah. What, ‘cuz I’m Hispanic?”

“What? No, no, I guess I made a few assumptions. Didn’t know you’re Hispanic, though.”

“Mixed,” Tom said. “My mom’s Colombian.”

“And it’s only that I thought you were the business type.”

“Because I want power?”

“No, no,” Jun stammered.

“Because I’m a cold-hearted asshole?”

“Uh, a little. You sounded kind of arrogant.”

“I’m fuckin’ with you,” Tom said, before processing the words. “Fair. You’re too sensitive.”

“Yeah? Maybe it’s because I care about other people,” Jun said, but he smiled. There was something in his eyes, something competitive. It stopped Tom’s breath for a moment.

He recovered. “Try giving them space, snowflake.”

Jun turned back to his fries and muttered something before biting into a few at once. It wasn’t that intelligible. Something like “straight dudes, I swear to God”.

Tomtried to keep up the nonchalance, but nerves thrummed in his chest. “I never said anything.”

Jun looked back at him quickly, clearly surprised. Maybe it was Tom’s answer, or maybe he didn’t expect the little quip to be overheard. His eyes flickered up and down. “Oh, no? Could’ve fooled me.”

“I mean, I am, but I never said I was.”

Tom wished he’d sounded more confident. In truth the “ace” poster made him a little unsteady. 

“Oh,” Jun said. “Straight enough to sit next to me in the Quirby fifteen minutes after your class started.”

“Yeah. I’m an ally.”

“Okay,” Jun said. He sounded doubtful.

“What?”

“It’s uh, I don’t know. I shouldn’t pry, but, um, I’m gay, and I thought I was okay at catching these kinds of things, but you have kind of weird vibes.”

“I’m glad you have such an airtight, scientific approach.”

“Well, I don’t know. I would’ve assumed you were bi, maybe pan.”

“I didn’t know there was a difference.”

“Yep.”

“I also didn’t know you could be gay and trans.”

“Well, sure. I’m a guy, and I like guys, so, yeah.”

Tom gazed at the visually-crowded wall in front of him. At least this confirmed the “trans man” question he’d been stuck on for a while.

Another minute of two passed before Jun stood up.

“Hate to leave you, but I feel sort of bad for costing you twenty minutes of lecture. See you, uh, next week, I guess?”

“Oh, before then, hopefully,” Tom said. “Let me give you my number.”

Jun inputted his contact info into Tom’s phone and sent a sample text.

It’s me, Jun. ;)

Jun

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 34 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Wren Ridley

"Can someone fill me in?" Raven asked as soon as we pulled away from Landon's building.

"What was all that about?"

"Don't ask that right now," Robin muttered."

"You were at the tournament last year," Fox said, turning around to face her.

"I know but I didn't know you had actual personal beef with him," she replied.

"Or that he was friends with Wren. How did that happen?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Fox said, fixing a glare on me.

They were both waiting for me to say something but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

"Can we all just agree that it's none of our business who Wren hangs out with?" Robin asked, trying to play peacekeeper like always.

It wouldn't work this time.

"No, I don't think we can," Fox spat.

"Because I think it is my business that my brother is getting close with someone who has tried to attack me more than once and who made my boyfriend's life a living hell."

Still, I didn't respond.

I would only be adding fuel to Fox's fire if I did.

His anger fed off of other people.

Me becoming defensive would only make things worse.

He needed time to cool down and time away from me.

"Please don't kill each other," Robin said as I parked outside the hotel he and Raven were staying at with the rest of our family.

Fox was staying at another with his team.

"No promises," Fox muttered and the twins got out of the car and made their way into the hotel.

I was ready to bring Fox to his and get away from him but he had other plans.

"Take me to your dorm," he demanded.

I let out a long sigh.

"I think you need to go cool down."

"No, we need to have a private conversation and it's not going to be in the car because I can't say what I need to say in a confined space because I might strangle you."

At least he was taking precautions.

I relented and brought the two of us to my dorm.

James wasn't around which was good.

Maybe he went home for Thanksgiving after all.

I leant back against my desk, putting some space between Fox and me.

He stayed standing by the door and looked around the room.

His eyes caught on something behind me.

I followed his line of sight and saw that Landon's hockey sweatshirt was out in the open, hanging on the back of my desk chair.

I bit down on my bottom lip and looked back at Fox, who was now scowling at me, his eyes wide and furious.

"What the fuck is going on?" he questioned, his voice low but full of emotion.

His hands were in fists by his sides.

"I assume you can suspect."

He shook his head at me and began pacing in front of the door.

He wasn't lying when he said he couldn't be in a confined space for this conversation.

"Why?" he asked after a moment.

"Why do you like fucking with me? I thought we were over this, that we were gonna start acting like real brothers."

My heart jolted a little bit at his words.

This was what I wanted to avoid, I wanted us to repair our relationship, not dismantle it further.

I wanted to be a good big brother for Fox, for all my younger siblings, like Robin was.

I wanted them to be able to rely on me, to want me around.

Them not wanting me around was one of my biggest fears.

I usually kept my fears hidden so deep down inside me that I forgot they were there but it was times like these that they were at the forefront of my mind, mocking me and letting me know that I'd never be able to forget about them.

"You know, I thought we were really becoming close, that we were done hating each other," Fox continued.

"We are."

"No because you must fucking hate me," Fox exclaimed.

"Tell me right now what's going on with you two."

"It's nothing."

It was a lie and it tasted like poison coming out of my mouth.

"Don't bullshit me right now, Wren."

He stared at me, willing me to tell him the truth.

I didn't know what to say.

"Are you with him?" Fox asked when I said nothing, gesturing toward the sweatshirt hanging on my chair.

"It's not... it's not serious," I stuttered.

Even that was a lie.

It was more serious than I wanted to admit, more serious than I even realized until this moment.

I felt the need to play it off like it was nothing, for my sake and for Landon's.

Fox would be playing against him tomorrow and if he was still angry by then, who knew what damage he could do.

I also felt the need to protect Landon.

I wanted Fox's anger to stay directed at me.

I didn't want him saying anything bad about Landon, even if he wasn't here to hear it.

"I guess a lot to you isn't serious," Fox said.

"Because if you were serious about smoothing things over with me, then you wouldn't be with him in the first place."

He had a point but it was possible for me to be serious about both.

I wasn't about to argue that with him though.

"Do I have to remind you what he's done?" Fox asked in exasperation.

"That he bullied Elijah? That he beat him and had a hand in outing him to his entire team which forced him to come out to his mother and got him kicked out of his house? That he has attacked us both? What do you think he's going to do to you if he gets angry?"

Fox knew nothing about Landon, nothing about how he changed or who he really was and he didn't care to.

He wanted to hold onto this anger, let it fester and explode.

It didn't matter that Elijah wanted to forgive and forget, he wanted to be his protector, to be angry on his behalf because Elijah was too kind to hold a grudge and Fox didn't trust me.

He didn't trust my judgement.

I could tell him about how Landon had changed, how I really felt about him and that I had never felt this way about anyone else but he wouldn't want to hear it and it wouldn't matter anyway.

Fox shook his head at me and ripped open the door.

"Let's go," he snapped.

"And don't even bother coming to my game tomorrow. I don't want to see you and I don't want to talk to you."

I would be there anyway, if only to make sure Fox didn't beat Landon bloody and blue.