#and we’re gonna be with family for thanksgiving so we’re either gonna dance around the topic awkwardly or they’re gonna talk about him

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

anyway shout out to other people in the dead parent club who are going through important benchmarks in life and keep wildly oscillating between celebrating and grieving

[xlostinobsessionsx]

An Unforgettable New Year’s Eve | Charlie Gillespie - 1/3

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x fem! Reader

Warning: none

Word Count: 2,213

Plot: (Y/N) doesn’t want to go to the new years eve party where her ex would be with his new girlfriend. Sadly, she promised her best friend she’d go. But instead of letting her wallow in self pity, Charlie makes it his mission to give her a new years eve she will never forget, which makes her ask herself one question: Can you fall in love in just one night?

A/N: A big thanks goes to @bass-ic-deaky and @a-tomb-with-a-view for proof-reading this part. I don’t know what I would do without you!

I wish you all the best for the next year! May 2021 be better than this year.

Masterlist

Normally (Y/N) loved the holidays. She loved dressing up for Halloween and going to parties with her friends. She loved seeing her family on Thanksgiving, eating turkey and telling them what made her feel thankful. She loved decorating the Christmas tree and singing christmas carols. She loved celebrating the beginning of each new year...well, normally she did. This New Year’s Eve was going to be quite different. Her friend Colin was throwing a party in his big loft like he did every year, and normally that would be alright. (Y/N) loved traditions, and celebrating New Years Eve at Colin's place felt like a tradition by now. A tradition she had always attended with Noah. But this year she would go by herself. Of course (best friend's name Maya, her best friend, would come with her but it wasn’t the same. Once they got the party Maya would probably disappear into the celebrating crowd, leaving (Y/N) to fend for herself. In any case, her friends decided that it would be better for (Y/N) not to drink during this New Years Eve Party. “It just ends messy when you drink and already feel miserable.” Maya tried to explain to her. (Y/N) would’ve preferred to just stay at home all by herself in all honesty but her best friend was against her plans.“The company will do you good.” Maya argued until (Y/N) had agreed to go with her. 

“Someone will also have to make sure that you get home safely.” (Y/N) shrugged, trying to persuade herself that going to the party might be a good idea. She would just go to keep an eye on Maya all night long. That alone would be enough for a distraction.

However, it turned out that was easier said than done. Her friend immediately grabbed herself a drink and joined the crowd on the packed dance floor. (Y/N), on the other hand, got herself some water. Her gaze drifted through the crowd from each drunk partygoer to the next. She spotted Colin who was standing in front of one of the big big paintings, which decorated his loft. He seemed to be chatting animatedly about it to a couple standing next to him, who, even from across the room, were obviously sloshed from how they swayed from side to side, and it was only 7:23pm. A laugh cut through the music, pounding from the large DJ speakers. It didn’t ever matter how loud a room could be, she’d always hear that laugh no matter what. That’s when her gaze landed on him, wearing one of those silly New Year’s Eve party hats. The shirt he was wearing, that had been a gift from her for their last anniversary. He had broken it off with her a few weeks later, right before Thanksgiving, leaving his seat empty during family dinner. 

(Y/N) could still remember their conversation. It seemed like it was forever embedded in her mind. “I can’t do this anymore!” He had said while packing his belongings he had left at her place. 

“Why?” She sobbed, trying to get a hold of him, trying to get him to look at her, but he had shrugged her off. 

“It just won’t work between us. Not for the long run at least, we’re too different.” He had said nonchalantly. 

“But...how? Why?!” She whimpered “A few weeks ago you talked about us moving in together for god’s sake!” She had grabbed him by his arm forcing him to turn around to look at her. The look on his face had changed. 

He looked sorry for her. Why was he taking pity on her? “I met someone else.”

And this particular ‘someone else’ was standing next to him, with Noah’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close. Her golden wavy hair fell elegantly over her shoulders as she stood there with her stupid perfect makeup and stupid perfect dress. The tears began to form in (Y/N) eyes again. Not here, she told herself and took a deep breath, trying desperately to steady herself. (Y/N) had promised to herself that they would not ruin this party for her, she had promised Maya she’d have fun and that would try to do that now. Like trying to keep an eye on Maya, that turned out to be easier said than done. That’s why (Y/N) found herself in a corner of the room, sitting on a bench and staring at her cup with a blank expression on her face.

“Either you just really hate New Years Eve parties or someone’s here you don’t like that much.” (Y/N) turned her head to look at the brunette guy who had sat down next to her a few minutes prior. She hadn’t paid him any mind, she went about her business and he with his. Like most of the guests, he was wearing funny glasses and a party hat. His curly brunette hair hung to his shoulders and his hazel eyes sparkled happily at her. She was grateful to him for trying to save her evening, but her desire for company was waning by the second. 

(Y/N) sighed looking back down at her lap. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” She tried to shrug him off to wallow in her self-pity once again. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s alright. Maybe you need a drink?” He suggested. 

She slowly shook her head “I can’t. I promised my friend I’d bring her home safely.” (Y/N) pointed to her best friend, who at the moment tried to drink as much as she could out of a beer funnel. 

Charlie chuckled at the sight. “Well she’s a messy drunk, isn’t she.” 

“Also...I’ve heard you only should drink when you’re in a good mood.” She mumbled, not knowing if the guy next to her was even able to hear her over the loud music. 

“And you aren’t in a good mood because…?” He treaded carefully. 

(Y/N) sighed as she looked up to the guy next to her. His eyes were gazing at her, a friendly look glinting in them, not intrusive like she had expected it would’ve been. More honest and seemingly genuinely interested in making her feel better. “I don’t wanna pull you down with me.” She answered truthfully. 

The guy chuckled “You won’t, I promise. It’s gonna be my mission to pull your mood up no matter what.” 

This made her smile. “I’m sure you’d have a better night if you spent it with someone else.” 

“Well, I know most people here but I like to make new friends. It’s like this saying: Always start a new year with new friends.” He smiled brightly. 

(Y/N) chuckled “I’m pretty sure it’s not a saying.” 

He laughed slightly “Well it might not be one but it made you smile. So one step closer to making this a better night for you….uh…” He looked at her expectantly. 

“(Y/N).” She replied with a wide smile. 

“One step closer to make this night better for you, (Y/N), way better.” He said as he held his hand towards (Y/N) for her to shake. 

“I’m Charlie, by the way.” He introduced himself. She took his hand and slightly shook it. His hand nearly entirely engulfed hers and felt warm around hers. “Now that we’re on a first name basis, you should really tell me who put you in such a foul mood.” He took a sip from his cup and looked at her curiously. 

(Y/N) sighed. Her gaze fell to a tall guy standing in a group of people. “You see him?” She pointed slightly at the guy. “That’s my ex. We were both invited to this party when we were still a couple.” she explained “But then he broke up with me for the blonde girl standing next to him. Obviously, for whatever reason I still thought it would be an excellent idea to come here because we’re in the same circle of friends. I didn’t think for a second he would bring her.” She spat with a bitter look on her face. 

“And now instead of partying you’re just sitting here all sad?” Charlie asked. 

(Y/N) nodded “As I said, I promised my friend I’d bring her home safely and I wouldn’t be able to if I were drunk. Also I promised before I knew how the night would turn out for me. Believe me whenI say I really regret this choice.”

Charlie frowned. Suddenly an idea came to mind. “What if I told you I have a plan for how this night could turn out good for you?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “How?” 

“Let’s get out of here. I know some really good places. They’re incredible on New Year’s Eve!” He suggested, smiling and his eyes shining brightly. 

“I can’t. I promised Maya...” She started but Charlie interrupted her.

“...That you get her home safely. I know, I know. We’ll be back by midnight. That could be at least 4-5 hours full of adventures!” He emptied his cup with one big sip and stood up. “Come on!” he rose from his spot holding his hand out towards her.

She eyed him suspiciously. “For all I know you could pull me into an alley once we leave this building, stab me and run away while I bleed to death” 

The guy next to her chuckled. “Nah, don’t worry about that. I only do that on the first tuesday of the month. Come on, it’ll be fun!” He looked at her with his best puppy dog eyes, which behind the glasses made him look ridiculous. 

(Y/N) playfully rolled her eyes “Fine! But we have to be back by midnight.” She took his hand and stood up. They wove their way through the crowd before (Y/N) pulled on his arm. “Wait, I should tell my friend that I’m coming back.” She made her way towards her friend, who was rocking her soul out to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ on the dance floor. (Y/N) slightly touched her shoulder to get her attention 

“(Y/N)!” Her friend screamed her name. “There you are! Let’s party!” 

(Y/N) chuckled “I’m going to leave for a few hours but I promise I’ll be back before midnight.” 

Maya’s eyes went wide when her gaze landed on the guy behind her best friend. “Oh, oh I get it. Of course. Don’t worry about me.” She pushed (Y/N) towards Charlie “Just you know...stay safe, if you know what I mean.” She winked at both of them. 

(Y/N) felt her cheeks heating up. She chuckled slightly and nodded “Alright fine, and you my dear don’t drink too much!”

“You know I’m really bad at keeping promises.” Maya winked at her. 

(Y/N) laughed and nodded as she turned to Charlie. “Shall we?” She asked him. 

Charlie took her hand again and gave it a light squeeze. “Yeah, let’s go!” The cold December air hit them like a bus as soon as they made their way outside. (Y/N) expected them to go to the subway station but instead Charlie pulled her towards a red motorcycle. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” He asked her as he fetched a second helmet out from under the seat holding it out for her. 

Hesitantly, she took the helmet from him as she shook her head “No, and you might’ve also had a little too much to drink to still be able to drive.” 

Charlie laughed “Well, honestly I was looking out for one of my friends too, so I wasn’t drinking either.” (Y/N) looked at him suspiciously as he put on the other helmet. He held his hands up in defense. “I swear, you can even smell my breath if-” 

“That won’t be necessary!” (Y/N) exclaimed, which made the guy in front of her chuckle. She eyed the helmet before she put it on. “Is this how it goes on?” She asked him with a brow raised in confusion. 

“Wait, let me help you.” Charlie took a step towards her. Slowly, he pulled her hair away, which had fallen into her sight. “Can’t have your helmet falling off.” 

Her eyes drifted up to meet his, which sparkled brightly in the moonlight. She felt her hands getting a little bit sweaty. It must’ve been because of the thought of riding a motorcycle for the first time and not because of this cute guy in front of her, she tried to tell herself. Her thoughts were interrupted by his soft voice, “Now it’s good.” He smiled at her. “All secure and ready for an adventure. Shall we?” He asked and made an invitational gesture towards his bike.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and nodded. Charlie climbed onto the bike putting up the kick stand before nodding at her to get on behind her. “Hold onto my waist. Tightly. I promise I’ll drive carefully.”

She nodded and nervously put his arms around his torso. She could feel the heat radiating from his body in front of her, it was quite soothing actually. She pressed into him a bit more….for safety, she told herself. Charlie started the engine. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

He chuckled softly. “Excellent, hold on tight now.” Slowly, the wheels underneath them started to move and brought them away from the party. From stupid ex-boyfriends. From a dull new years eve party. “We’re going on an adventure.”

[raiisrad]

Current Newsies Headcannon

Background

-They grow up in West Virginia, v poor kids in a v poor town

-Davey and Race have been friends since first grade

-Race’s family is pretty shit, but local CPS has bigger things to worry about, so he basically lives with the Jacobs’

-Spot and Jack show up in high school - ended up at Medda’s at the same time

-The four quickly become inseparable

-Davey/Jack and Race/Spot start dating during sophomore year

-Race wants to be a dancer

-Davey wants to be a journalist

-Both want to get out and move to the city more than anything

-Broke AF so have to get scholarships

-They do - NYU here we come!

-Jack and Spot always pushed them to go, never asked to come with because they knew they couldn’t

-Summer before Davey and Race leave, Jack makes a throwaway comment about them not being gone that long considering thanksgiving and winter break

-Davey laughs because lol no money, MAYBE they’ll be home for winter break but definitely not thanksgiving

-Jack and Spot go real quiet - dual breakups within the week

-Davey and Race leave for college.  Jack and Spot don’t say bye.  They don’t get to say goodbye to Ms. Medda either even though she’s basically their second mom because things are weird

 College Year 1

-We’re gonna ignore what’s going on with Jack/Spot for a bit (ie 4 years)

-Davey and Race are roommates

-Davey is a journalism/international relations double major with a minor in public policy analysis

-Race is Dance/Mechanical Engineering double major

-The first friends they make are Finch/Albert who are the couple that live across the hall

-Finch and Albert are drama majors minoring in dance

-They are from Mississippi

-Davey and Race do not make it home for Thanksgiving

-They do go home for winter break, but it’s awkward because they don’t really have anyone to see outside of the Jacobs’.  They do text Jack/Spot to see if they want to talk, but get ignored

-Once back in NYC, they promptly swear that they are not going home for summer so they’re going to have to find jobs in the city/somewhere to live (also Race has to stay for the dance program anyway)

-They are also going to ignore the fact that it still kind of feels like they’re both missing a limb

-Davey meets Katherine during one of his classes during spring semester and they become friends. She helps him find a PAID!! Internship for the summer.

-Race gets a job as the friendly neighborhood barista around his summer intensive schedule

-They four of them (Davey/Race/Finch/Albert) end up sharing an incredibly sketchy 2 bedroom apartment over the summer but they manage to both pay rent and not starve so they call it a success

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Chapter 1

Characters - Ransom, assorted OCs, Reader

Word Count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language

A/n - Welcome to my Ransom series! I am so excited to play with this character. Long term, there will be angst, and fluff, and smut, which you won’t need to wait long for, I promise. Here’s the intro. I hope you like it. There’s mostly set-up this chapter and of course, an unforgettable introduction to our sweater-loving heartbreaker. 

I appreciate feedback. If there are errors, please let me know. Line dividers used were made by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist 

Job hopping isn’t at the top of your to-do list, but if life had shown you anything lately, it is that you need some changes. 

Whitney leans hard into the bar in front of her, elbows resting just right to push her tits together as she tries for the bartender’s attention. She doesn’t look at you as she talks, but so far she seems to still be paying attention, “So how late were you to the interview?”

The lump in your stomach had still not settled after the disaster from the afternoon. 

“I was almost an hour late. I got off on the wrong exit and still have no clue how to circle back through the construction the way you do.”

“Yikes,” she says as she waves and gets a nod from the bartender in return. 

At last there’s hope and liquor finally on the horizon.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have even bothered. I think he still gave me the interview as a joke.”

“Well. Fuck it.” She shrugs and handles the drinks.

She pays the bartender, throwing in a wink for good measure, then hands you your glass. She does a slow spin as she takes in the scene, nodding to herself. 

“You know what? I like this place!” Whitney shouts into your ear, hopping from foot to foot in a drunken attempt to dance to the pop ballad blasting through the speakers. 

You look around the unfamiliar bar, not really focusing on anything, but trying to find some point of interest. The evening so far has been a dull combination of mixed drinks and bar hopping as you and your friend look for a place with a “good vibe” as Whitney described it. She zeroed in on this place that looks like a misplaced supper club and dragged you in.

“Yeah!” you agree, honestly not caring enough to have much of an opinion.

“Stop it,” Whit hisses.

“Stop what?”

“You’re pouting. We’re supposed to be having fun and you’re pouting!” Whitney whines before jabbing herself with the straw in her glass. 

You’re supposed to be her fun, party friend and you’re doing a terrible job of filling the role as of late.

“I know. I just hate that on top of everything, I have to avoid our bar because of The Ex.” You didn’t dare speak his name.

“You wanna go back? Fight for it? We can go there, I don’t care,” Whitney looks at you with barely concealed excitement, always anxious to stir up shit.

“Nope.” You stare into your drink, watching the level go down until you start to slurp on nothing but air. “More drinks.”

“More drinks!” Whit shouts, arms flailing and barely missing a passing cocktail waitress. “Whoa! Sorry!”

The blonde turns around, her face quickly changing from annoyance to surprise, “Whitney?!”

“Michelle!” your friend squeals before pulling her into a clumsy hug. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

You block them out as they catch up, not having any idea what they are going on about. It’s weird to be somewhere different, a new crowd, different atmosphere, brighter lights and lighter drinks. Just like starting over, like moving. Again.

At least you hadn’t lost Whit in the break-up. Shit, it wasn’t even really a break-up. It was you finding out how things were and being unwilling to put yourself in the middle of that shitshow. It wouldn’t lead to anything but emotional eating and long fights. 

So, as Whit suggested, on to new hunting grounds.

“Yeah! We’ll be there,” you hear her say as you tune back in to their conversation.

The waitress, Michelle, looks you over, “Oh? Yeah, you come too.”

You give her a quick smile back then look to your friend to find out what she just agreed to after she walks back to the bar.

“Alright, so I knew her in school. We’re gonna go with her to another friend’s place. She’s texting me the address now.”

“Okay,” you answer, though she misses your lack of enthusiasm as she checks her phone for the info. You make your way to the bar for a refill and start to hope the rest of the night goes quickly.

It’s a small party in a spacious condo, more of a gathering really because that’s what adults do, you remind yourself.  Michelle arrived at the same time as you and Whitney so she guided you inside.

Entering into the bright kitchen, a small group surrounds a kitchen island holding drinks and bottles. A few of them turn as the three of you enter, surprise showing on their faces and assorted exclamations of “No shit” and “Where the hell you been?” being shouted to Whitney and Michelle. You stand back to let them share hugs and flick your hand in an awkward wave as you get introduced to the group, names being called out without any real way for you to identify who’s who.

“Drinks?” someone asks.

“Yes,” you hiss. “Please,” you tack on at the end to hide the desperation for something to help get you through the night.

The guy looks taken aback, but nods and goes to the fridge to grab a bottle for each of you, popping off the tops before passing them out.

“Anyway…” their conversation picks back up. Whitney and Michelle jump in easily from time to time and the group forms a loose circle along the counters and the island. You lean back, not quite completing the circle, but not outside of it either. Your eyes move from person to person as they talk and add to the stories. It sounds like they are reminiscing about what they got up to while attending the university, but no one bothers to explain and you don’t ask. 

Every now and again you find yourself nodding or tossing out a response, but otherwise not adding much to the conversation and realizing how long it’s been since you reached out to your old friends. Trying and failing to remember your last contact. Keeping in touch was never one of your strong suits.

Listening as they talk, their lives sound so far beyond where yours has stalled out, adventures past what you could imagine. That helpful inner voice reminds you that you don’t belong here. It’s more than just being a tag-along friend. There’s a twisting in your gut urging you to leave, suddenly feeling as though they are watching you, judging you, picking you apart and hating the imposter among them. 

Looking over at Whitney, she’s clearly having a great time and won’t be ready to go any time soon. It makes you worry how long she’ll want to stick around or if you can talk her into getting another ride home so you can cut out of there before you can get embarrassed.

You take a step back, leaning against the counter, zoning out of the conversation and figuring out your exit, and regretting the drinks that are now delaying said exit strategy. 

One of the guys from the group breaks away and makes his way toward you, making you press yourself further into the cabinets behind you to allow him to squeeze past, but instead he stops next to you, head tilted toward you and letting his brown hair fall over his forehead.

“Why are you so quiet?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you look at him, then quickly look away because jesus christ he’s handsome - like, model handsome, but it’s even more embarrassing to get flustered right to his face. In the extra seconds you take to answer he huffs out a laugh and settles in next to you.

“I, uh, I don’t know anyone,” you finally eek out.

“Well, talking to people usually helps.”

You hum an agreement, eyes flickering over to the group just a few feet away and catching a few people giving the two of you side-eyed glances, but not much else. “I don’t want to interrupt and I don’t really mind just observing.”

“So what? You just like watching other people talk?” he gestures with his glass to the group. You look up in time to catch two of them making lewd gestures at each other and laugh awkwardly.

“Sometimes? I just don’t feel the need to say anything if I don’t have something to actually contribute to the conversation.”

“Huh,” he responds, then takes a sip of his drink. 

You brave a better look at him, admiring his profile and talking yourself down from cartoon heart-eyes. Begging yourself to not linger too long on his shoulders, the way you can just scent his cologne and it’s delightfully masculine, his model-perfect face...and absolutely failing. No doubt if someone was looking at you they could see the awe and lust on your face from being in such close proximity to someone this good looking. Then - then he smirks. It’s a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth and it makes your breath hitch. His eyes are gleaming with excitement, then he opens his mouth, his tone and volume demanding immediate attention.

“Hey, remember when Eric fucked Whit last fall? When was that, Thanksgiving weekend?”

You whip your head over to see Whitney’s jaw drop. The guy you assume is Eric freezes with his arm around another girl’s shoulders while her face steadily grows beet red and eyes go wet with tears. Everyone else stares between you and the man next to you, looking at you as though you conspired and causing you to shrink in on yourself.

“What?” the girl under Eric’s arm whimpers. Looking between the two of them while everyone else remains frozen. “Eric, I thought you went to your family cabin?”

“Oh yeah,” the guy next to you answers, “I forgot she didn’t know.”

His tone implies he’s anything but sorry and within seconds there is more shouting and Eric charges over to shout in his face.

You slide over, attempting to avoid the fray and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Your heart pounds and heat still burns at the tips of your ears and across your chest.

After a few moments the high-pitch screaming of the girl fades as she makes her way to the door, Eric shouting after her and following, the others shouting each other down as they try to de-escalate and yet the instigator just stands there with a smile on his face. After the front door slams he turns to look at you, catching you staring at him and he winks.

“How’s that for something to contribute?” he mutters, obviously only meant for you.

“That was a dick move, Hugh,” Whitney spits at him.

He squints with obvious annoyance. “Feeling guilty for fucking your friend’s boyfriend?” he challenges.

She stares him down, but doesn’t last long, turning back to her drink and the rest of the group, “She’s not really my friend, anyway.”

A few others agree with her, the others shrug, and you’re left gaping at the whole scene, unable to understand what just happened. The guy next to you, Hugh, moves so suddenly that you flinch, making him chuckle.

“Lighten up, sweetheart. Life’s more fun when you let loose.” He tips his head back to finish his drink and walks back to the group, leaning over the countertop and continuing like nothing odd had happened. 

Whitney goes and makes herself comfortable in a recently vacated spot. Looking on for a while,  you try to sort out the dynamics of everyone there, but it’s not easy to determine who’s who in the group just yet. 

Their half-shouted stories start to wear on you, so you find yourself zoning out and deciding to take the opportunity to give yourself a little tour.

“So. Still not talking?”

“Jesus!” you hiss when the sudden intrusion makes you jump. The guy from earlier, Hugh, had snuck up next to you, a mischievous grin on his face and pink flush on his cheeks.

“Working up to it, I guess,” you breathe out, willing your racing heart to calm down. You look around, trying to find something else to look at so that you don’t have to look him in the eyes and bee-line for the bookshelf to look over the titles. They’re disappointing.

“So whose place is this? Whitney never bothered to introduce me.” You point back through the doorway, gesturing to the group at the table.

“She’s like that,” he notes.

“Yeah, she is,” you agree and step into his space, suddenly feeling too loose-limbed and loose-lipped from the earlier drinks. But he doesn’t seem bothered.

“Does it matter?” You feel his eyes scan you as he asks.

“Well, it’s not your place, is it?” you check. After he shakes his head no, you pull out a book and make a face, one hundred percent openly judging the owner on their taste. “He’s probably a pretentious snob, so I guess not.”

His eyes scrunch up and crinkle while he throws his head back in a laugh. 

“How’d you figure that?” he asks, tilting his head and watching you over the rim of his glass as he takes a drink.

“Look around. Plus, you’ve met Whitney, right?” you tease.

As though she hears you talking about her, Whitney turns around and looks at the two of you. She calls your name, demanding that you join her. Then her eyes land on the man next to you, “Ransom, you too!”

“I thought your name was Hugh,” you sigh.

“Only the help calls me that,” he says with an eye roll, “And people who wanna piss me off.”

Internally you gawk, but try to keep a calm exterior as you panic to figure out how to backtrack on your ‘pretentious snob’ comment, no doubt offending someone who says ‘the help’ in such a tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry...you know I probably shouldn’t have said-” is all you’re able to get out, though. He places a hand at the small of your back, shushing you with a finger raised to his own lips.

“C’mon,” he says as he guides you back to the group. His hand stays fixed on your lower back for the rest of the night. His warm palm pressing against your skin and fingertips flexing and gripping almost possessively. It leaves you on edge as you try to focus on anything else, basically begging your brain to focus on anything at all and completely failing. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning everyone starts to disperse, Whitney hangs off of you as you make your way back to the car. Ransom makes his way to his vehicle. You put your hand up in an awkward wave, he nods and winks in response then closes his door after climbing inside, bringing an end to the evening.

Whitney manages to drag you out for a much less memorable night the next evening. When Monday arrives, you swear to yourself to not waste a weekend on a hangover like that again. You squint as you try to face away from the bright sun, fingers playing with a dead leaf beside you on the bench. 

The weekdays are usually reserved for being dull. For going to work, listening to your co-worker, Carrie, talk about bathroom remodeling and in-law drama. For doing adult things like sleeping normal hours, laundry, getting tires replaced on the car. Some free time is spent searching for jobs, but so far that’s still been fruitless. Anyone who didn’t know you better would assume you pass for an acceptable adult your age, not someone just barely hanging on. 

“You gotten laid lately?” Carrie, asks before sipping on her coffee. You snort at the abrupt question. There aren’t many secrets between you.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because! I have to live through you since I am an old, married broad. I don’t go out and have fun and fuck bartenders anymore.”

“Anymore? You never did,” you snort. She married her high school sweetheart, the only man she ever kissed, touched, and fucked. What a concept.

“Exactly!” she practically yells. “Sooo?”

It had been a while, well, aside from that one night you went home late with a bartender named Jeff, but he got hit with whiskey dick as soon as you hit the sheets and the night was a bust. She had laughed her ass off when you told her about that disaster.

“No. Nothing lately. Trying to be careful. You know that.” You respond less kindly than you usually would, hoping that she will drop the subject. Gratefully, she’s smarter than some and does just that, but you don’t miss the look. “I mean, I did meet a guy, but it wasn’t really anything. Didn’t even exchange numbers.”

“Good. I just worry about you, you know?” She meant well as she had listened to all your stories, from the one-nighters to the heartbreak. She’d warned you to be cautious with The Ex, but you didn’t really listen.

“Yeah. Thanks. I just...Well, nevermind. I’m not going there because it’s nothing I haven’t said before. I’m not getting into all of it right now.” You take a deep breath before you start to really ramble. You have no idea how much time has passed, but decide it’s enough, “Break time’s up. Gotta get back.”

She nods and walks with you back inside, feeling a tinge of guilt for not telling her about your next job interview later in the week, hoping you can still hang onto her friendship when she’s not your co-worker.

The remainder of the week passes uneventfully. Only Friday afternoon is broken up by a text from Whitney reminding you about going out that night. As though you’ve done anything different for the last few months. You scroll through your contacts, ignoring the nagging reminders to call your family, and that you need to send your regrets for yet another baby shower. Seeing The Ex still in the contact list stops you, a little warning voice reminding you that you are supposed to delete his number. You hover over it for a moment, debating making that leap, but decide last minute to keep it...just in case. 

Whitney tells you that you’re going to the same bar as last Friday. For a second, you wonder if the evening will end the same way, and kind of hope a little bit that it does. Your imagination ran wild over the last week thinking of the small conversations and contact you had with Ransom the weekend before, analyzing details and tones and thinking about biting onto that lip and... 

A new notification pulls you from your little daydream and you add another item to your mental to-do list: delete The Ex’s number and ask Whitney about Ransom.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

IF You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 5

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character,

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

March 2015

“You’ll see me two times in three weeks,” Victoria smiled, wine in hand as she settled in the seat beside Sonny. It was Tommy and Bella’s engagement party, which Gianni was treating as a bridal shower. The whole engagement would only have been three months, and it seemed the two younger Carisis had cost her the months of parties and planning Gina and Teresa had given her. At least Sonny and Victoria had gotten married in a church a year after they eloped. Tommy and Bella would be getting married outdoors, while she was pregnant. Everyone pretended not to notice the slightest bit of a bump, easily confused for weight gain if you didn’t know, when Gianna was around before fussing over Bella the minute she left.

“I’m a lucky bastard.”

“I hope you told your squad.”

“We’re all going out the Saturday before. I’m doing it then.”

“Really pushed it off, huh?” she asked, and he didn’t like the hurt she was trying to hide. 

“The cases got heavy during the holidays. And then we busted up a sex ring and I was undercover. That also felt like a weird time. I kinda realized there wasn’t going to be a good one.”

“Yeah. Tommy and Bella inviting them kinda twisted your arm, huh?”

“Yeah. But it’s good. The last step.”

“They all coming?”

“Olivia for sure. I think Rollins and Amaro are coming together, and then honestly? Barba will when he finds out there’s gossip. He’s kind of a dick, but an amazing attorney. I really wanna shadow him sometime, but I’m too green to ask, y’know?”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be nice when the time comes. And I think it’ll make Bella and Tommy happy. If it weren’t for them, it coulda been bad.”

“I got brother brain instead of cop brain, so yeah. I still can’t believe she’s having a baby.”

“It’s wild. And I know you don’t like Tommy, but he’s got a good heart.”

“And got locked up.”

“Everyone has their own problems.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Same deal as Gina’s wedding? No marriage problems talk. Just have fun and be sentimental.”

“Deal. Though if your squad asks, I’m not ignoring it.”

“Fair. But also tell the cute stories.”

“I’ll bring the photo albums.” He laughed, arm settled around her shoulders. When they’d moved out, she’d taken to collecting all the pictures of them and adding them to a photo album. She’d gotten copies of dozens of pictures from his mom, who had always kept them organized by year in boxes. When she left, Victoria took them, and he missed being able to thumb through the pages. There were multiple volumes at this point. The pages got harder to find. She didn’t scrapbook. Instead, she used the pages with four slots each, keeping them up as time went on. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were pictures from Gina’s wedding in the most recent. Maybe there were even pictures of them separate from each other to bridge the gap. 

“Please don’t give Rollins and Barba that ammo. They’ll steal the really bad ones.”

“I like the ones from prom the best. Could we look any more 2004?”

“We looked damn good.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not super dated.”

“True. It’s okay. We got the pictures from Gina’s wedding. We don’t look like we’re separated in them.”

“True. You got the dimples on full display.”

“I seen the dresses Bella picked. I know you hate it. You won’t like this one so much.”

“I love it.” He raised a brow at the feigned enthusiasm. “Dom, that pink is gonna be so bad on a pale red head.”

“I like you in pink.”

“You like me in anything.”

“Because you look good in anything. Dark green’s my favorite though.”

“Mine too. Thank God for Gina. I’ll wear that dress again.”

“I’m sure I’ll have to go to some fundraising thing…”

“You asking me to be your date before you even know?”

“You’re always who I ask to be my date.”

“I better be. We’re married.”

“Gettin’ awful territorial, Mrs. Carisi.”

“You put your ring on your hand today.”

“And you put them both on the right finger.”

“It’s almost like we’re making progress.”

“I want to tell you. I’m ready. But not until after the wedding.”

“Why then?”

“In case you don’t look at me all happy anymore.”

“Literally nothing you could tell me could make me not want to work on it. Unless you cheated on me.”

“You’re the first, last, and only.”

“You are too.”

“We oughta stop being sappy. People are coming and we got put with people we don’t know.”

“Gross. It’s like ma is mad at me.”

“I’m just glad she knew better than to try and make us sit apart. I’m sittin’ with my wife.”

“You two aren’t even pretending to be awkward,” Bella teased, leaning to hug Victoria and then her brother. “This nonsense almost over?”

“Butt out,” Sonny warned, but he was still smiling. “Strictly married talk.” 

“Two weeks and ya can’t use that excuse.”

“Then it’ll be strictly talks with my wife.”

“Stop, Dom,” Victoria laughed. “You look beautiful, Bella. How you feeling?”

“Kid’s making me tired as hell. I’m excited though. Tommy talks to her every night. It’s been hard, after what that bitch did. But he’s doing so good.”

“I can tell. I’m just glad you’re so happy.”

“I really am, T.” 

“You look beautiful. I like this dress a lot.”

“Thanks. I like feeling all bridal.” Sonny was content to watch Bella and Victoria catch up. Over the last year, he’d come to realize every time they talked came around to when Victoria was taking him back. He probably hadn’t helped that any, constantly acting like he didn’t know why she’d gone. Thanksgiving had changed that. He stood up to his mom more, told her he was in therapy, and openly defended Victoria. The last part wasn’t new, but this time it was specific to her decision to leave. He’d told his family in no uncertain terms that, while he thought she should’ve told him earlier instead of letting the hurt fester, he had done something wrong and he was trying to fix that so they could start over. His mom and dad didn’t like that. Generationally, bottling up feelings was more acceptable to them. His sisters, on the other hand, hugged him tight and told him they were proud of him. 

Their table filled up quickly as guests arrived, and Sonny was happy to help Victoria keep conversation moving until his parents spoke. That was the plan for tonight. Appetizers, speeches from the bride and groom’s parents, dinner, dessert, and finally dancing and cocktails. It was quickly apparent all the family’s required-but-barely-liked invites went to the table they’d put Victoria and Sonny at, a sure sign Gianna was over dealing with their drama. He was thankful his sister wouldn’t be having assigned seating at the reception for anyone, the bridal party included, though the thought of having Victoria joining his squad at a table made him nervous.

“I thought they’d never go dance,” she said softly against his ear, and Sonny smiled more from the closeness than the sentiment. Damn, it felt good to have her on his team. She wasn’t there day in and out, so these events felt more valuable to him now.

“Right? He’s from dad’s work. Known each other forever. I don’t know why the hell they invited him.” Her hair tickled his cheek as they gossiped, watching the people around the room and nursing their drinks. He decided they didn’t have a heavy case, so he’d tell the squad the next day, that way the giddiness of the evening would still be fresh. When they’d both finished their drinks, he took her hand, pulling her towards the floor. 

“I was comfy,” she protested half heartedly before she realized he’d pulled her up for Sinatra. One hand on his shoulder and the other in his, she let him lead the few moves they’d learned in a ballroom class they’d taken. It had only been a couple years into their marriage, and they took it because it made them feel older and less like imposters. Now, all either could really remember was a boxstep, and their frame was terrible. That didn’t matter though. What did matter was Sonny resting his temple against hers to sing softly against her ear. When one swing tune melted into another, she was grateful Gianna had picked the music for this wedding event. 

“Looks like we get to dance all slow again,” he teased, giving her a spin before holding her close.

“For someone getting mad when we get along, your ma worked real hard for us to get along.”

“She’s just mad it isn’t like when we were kids. If we fought in middle school, she’d give us a pizza, and we’d be over it.”

“Very true,” she grinned, looking up at him. He looked handsome, and after what came out to two years of seeing him deteriorate, she was grateful he was actually getting back to himself. She wasn’t sure if therapy, the job, or the slow progress they were making was the reason, but he was her Sonny again. He kept his hair cropped, face shaved, and smile present.

“You’re staring,” he teased before tightening his grip to dip her. 

“You look good. Like not just handsome. Happy.”

“Thanks,” he smiled softly when he pulled her up again. “I’m learning to process stuff better.”

“That’s good.”

“It sounds messed up, but thank you for leaving. It made me go to therapy. I really wasn’t being good to you, Tor. And I’m sorry for that.”

“I forgive you, Dom. I wasn’t doing a good job talking to you about it. I’m sorry for not pressing until we hit the point of no return.”

“It’s okay,” he said, forehead resting on hers. “I think we’re gonna be okay.”

“Me too.”

“Can we get somebody to take pictures of us?” 

“Bella got a photographer, and he has definitely taken several.”

“This camera shy Sonny or detective Sonny noticing?”

“It’s Sonny seeing Gina tell him to.”

“You ever feel like the kids are trying to get us back together?”

“All the time, doll. You know how often Gina or Teresa go after me? Then Bella meddles. But Mia? She’s 17 and bound and determined she’s going to be the one to talk sense into me. And she kind of is. She actually talked to me about therapy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t know why but knows my brain shuts down when I try to open up. Heard me tellin Teresa. Said it’s toxic masculinity makin’ me feel like talking about feelings is girly and I gotta get over that if I wanna stay married and making you happy.”

“I ever tell you Mia’s my favorite?”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“How long until we can run away and go to a bar?”

“Anybody else left yet?”

“Your cousin Lauren and some of Bella’s friends.”

“What bar you thinking? Because you look too pretty to not take to some classy wine bar.”

“That works for me.”

“Then let’s go tell Bella and Tommy bye.”

“What about Gianna?”

“It’s not her engagement.” Victoria almost felt like they were back in high school and cutting class as they said their goodbyes and got their coats. Why the hell his sister was getting married outdoors in winter was beyond Victoria, but she was grateful for the fact they’d probably end up rained out and inside for the ceremony. Sonny hailed a cab, waving when he saw his mother watching them from a window. 

“She’s pissed, Dom.”

“Too bad. Taking you to a nice wine bar. Ordering a cheese board.”

“You’re making it sound like a date.”

“I been shit and ain’t taken you on one in two years. Can it be?”

“I’d like that.” She was nervous, but it had become apparent he was trying. From what he said, in a couple weeks he’d be willing to open up. He was also communicating with her as it was. Maybe treating the next two weeks as a trial run could be good. Ease into the heavy discussion. He’d mentioned being afraid how she’d react. Maybe if she was always there again, he’d realize she wasn’t leaving. 

“C’mon, whatcha thinking Tor?”

“Just that I’m happy we’re making progress,” she fibbed, lacing their fingers. He looked to their hands and smiled, squeezing her fingers gently. 

“Me too.” Soon enough they were settled at the bar, and Sonny, true to his word, had ordered a bottle of wine and a cheese board. She was turned to face him, legs carefully crossed. He had the leg towards the room on the footrest around the base of her stool. She was boxed in, but it felt reassuring when paired with his hand on her leg. 

“So what’s this new squad like?” Sonny had never quite settled in anywhere since he’d become a detective, and he seemed smitten with his spot in Manhattan. 

“So Barba is the ADA. Covered him. Liv is Lieutenant. Nobody ever really gave me a shot before. Apparently I can be abrasive.” He threw the hand not on her leg up in mock affront, and she laughed. 

“You? Never.”

“I know,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Rollins is cool. She’s been through a lot. She’s from Georgia though. I know you mostly grew up here, but you get that same Southern catty as her. Means it doesn’t get to me, because I know the secret. That she doesn't really mean it. Amaro is cool too. Had some problems too. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I’m acting like they won’t understand or accept our marriage. Fin’s been there longest, other than Lieu.”

“They treating you well?”

“They are. I think I’m finally not just a newbie. Barba gets mean. He’s not southern snarky though, so I think he means it.”

“I’ll fight him.”

“You’d win. He’s got a big mouth, but I don’t think he’d be scrappy.”

“I’m just real proud of you.”

“That means a lot to me, Tor.”

“You worked real hard. I watched that. And you’re going to be an amazing attorney.”

“I think I wanna try for the DA’s office if I pass the bar next year.”

“You’ll pass the bar.”

He rolled his eyes, pouring her another glass of wine as he topped off his own. When the night was over, he walked her to her door, kissing her goodnight and going to his own apartment. Sonny had decided that if it was going to be a date, he’d be a gentleman. Things were still delicate, and he had to leave early when she had a day off. He did text her the next morning to say he’d enjoyed their date, not wanting to have the wedding be the next time they talked. When he arrived at the precinct, he went to Olivia’s door, knocking. 

“What’s going on, Carisi?”

“Since the squad’s coming to my sister’s weddin’ now, I felt like I gotta tell everybody I’m married and it’s really confusing.”

“Since you hadn’t mentioned it, I assumed you were getting a divorce.”

“You knew?”

“I did get sent your file when you started here. You know, I do read those.”

“I messed up bad, y’know? She’s a baker, right? And I’ve known her since I was five. Got married when we were eighteen. It was all good until I got to homicide.” Oliva gave him a sympathetic, knowing smile. “What I told you guys? How the women got to me? I was scared if I told her, I’d, like, tarnish her. Make her see all the bad stuff we see. It’s amazing talking to her, Lieu. She never stopped seeing the best in people. And I stopped acting like her husband because I thought just being close to me would transfer all of it. She left me, but we’re in a weird limbo. She’s in the wedding, and we act married when we see each other. This’ll only be the sixth time in a year and a half. But I don’t want her to meet everyone and they’re all like who the hell are you.”

“This job can make that part of life incredibly difficult, Carisi. I feel the same way sometimes about Noah. What if they take him? What if I’m so paranoid he grows up paranoid? Or god forbid he sees pictures? I try to refocus it. I think about how he can make light in those bad times. I don’t know much about her, but I’m guessing she does too?”

“She does.”

“Tell her, Carisi. If she knows something is wrong, she’ll be able to get through it.”

“I’m telling her after the wedding. My therapist said it might make it less stressful. I’ve been afraid she’ll change her mind when I tell her.”

“It’ll work out. It is a smart idea to make sure everyone knows. Barba’s coming with me, so I’ll make sure he knows and keep him in line.”

“Thanks Lieu. For this whole talk, but also giving me a shot.”

Tag List: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

[lovelyirony]

my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme (And All Of My Peaches)

@peachy-keener to the best of the best ;), and @angxlsgrxce, the extension of the prompt that she filled! the prompt was not taken quite literally: set during fall...but i think that it makes the best of it 

Harley had grown up going to his grandparents’ house on his Dad’s side for years. He had grown up chasing his cousins around, Grams chastising him for being skinny as a bean pole. 

“You’re just like your Papa,” she’d say, stirring the cider at the stove as Harley “helped.” (Ate most of the cranberries.) 

“Good,” he’d say, mouth stained a brilliant purple. 

“Not good,” Dad would say, swinging his son into his arms and peppering him with kisses all over his cheek. “That means I have two insomniacs.” 

“But you also have a Pepper at your disposal,” Papa said, coming in from behind. “Hey Mama, thanks for letting our little bambino steal berries from you.” 

“It’s why I buy extra,” she says with a wink. 

As Harley grew up, he’d seen near-about-everything that happened. He’d heard all the stories, but his favorite was about the year Tony finally got to visit. 

“They thought we wouldn’t know,” Grandpa said, cutting up the ham with a laugh. “My damn fool son thought that I wouldn’t notice when he was gone on somebody.” 

“Language, dad,” he would say, and Harley would grin up at his dad. 

“He doesn’t need a lesson in what not to say,” Grandpa would say. “And you’re ruining the story. Anyways, here they are, cuddled up in a blanket...” 

Harley wants that. He wants to find someone he loves so much to bring home. He wants to dance with them in the kitchen when they’re supposed to be on clean-up, crooning to scratchy old records that made it past college dorm rooms. 

He wants to look across the table and smile fondly, and hold hands with whoever it is. 

His parents tell him it’ll be soon. 

“Before you know it, my mad scientist,” Dad says, grinning. “You’ll find someone that you’ll take their breath away.” 

“And hopefully it’s not because they’re asthmatic,” Papa quips. 

Harley giggles. 

“Goodnight bambino,” Tony tells his son. “Get good rest and wake up happy tomorrow.” 

“I promise,” Harley says sleepily. “Mostly.” 

Tony and Rhodey leave his room, and they smile at each other. 

“It’ll be too soon,” Rhodey says to his husband. “And then he will grow up.” 

“And we will be there for all of it,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Besides, I can’t wait to see who Harley finds.” 

Harley meets a boy from Queens who talks a bit more than necessary, accidentally slapped him in the face while emphasizing his point about Jurassic Park during lunch, and has the most brilliant smile he’s ever seen. 

He can’t believe he knows him. 

Also, that they work together. Kind of. It’s an internship, but they also take most of the time to discuss conspiracy theories and challenge Ned with different programming games. 

“What do you think about adding some extra web spots on the sides?” Peter asks him. 

Harley is staring. A lot. 

Peter is wearing a good shirt. Funny pun. He is the funniest. And the cutest. He has these laughter lines by his eyes that always come up when he’s laughing really hard, and it’s so cute, and--

“Uh...Harley? You okay?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Um. Yeah. I’m all good. You were saying about side-lining your webslingers? Why?” 

“No, moving some to the side,” Peter says. “Like this.” 

Harley frowns at the diagram. 

“No, you splay out your hands too much when you’re Spidey. Web gets caught, you end up getting thrown at a ninety-degree angle or something. Skip it.” 

“How do I never think about the most obvious things,” Peter mutters. 

Harley has it on the tip of his tongue to mention that he is completely gone on him, and everyone knows it. Including his parents, which he isn’t exactly a fan of. 

Especially since Rhodey has been behind Peter at his work desk, mock-batting his eyelashes and throwing hearts up on any single display screen that Friday has control of. (She essentially staged a coup, and Jarvis let her.) 

“Dad,” Harley hisses out. “Stop.” 

“Stop what?” Peter asks, grin on his face. “What are you guys doing?” 

“Oh, nothing much,” Dad says. “But, that does remind me that I need to be doing something, and that is discussing Thanksgiving. We’re leaving for Grams’ early, around eight.” 

“Then cider!” Harley says, grinning. He turns towards Peter. “What about you, what plans you got?” 

“Oh, I think I’m going to attempt to make myself a mean turkey sandwich while May’s out,” Peter says. “Had to be on-duty for this year, but she gets Christmas off this year.” 

“What?” Harley says. “You’re not going over to Ned’s or anything?” 

“Ned’s visiting with Betty’s family, and MJ...I don’t know what she’s doing, but it’s something with family. She’s been sending me depressing poetry for half-an-hour.” 

Harley snorts. 

“Well that sucks, Peter. Sorry to hear that.” 

“It’ll be okay!” Peter says. “Just means I get to watch Star Wars with no complaints from you or Ned about my choices.” 

"I will find a way to have you avoid watching the prequels, they all suck.” 

“Sure they do,” Peter says. “That’s why everyone still watches them.” 

“It’s because everyone likes to make fun of them, not because they’re quality.” 

Peter laughs. 

“Maybe you’re right. But I gotta get going, Aunt May is trying to cook again.” 

Rhodey winces. 

“You want me to call Vietnamese food to-go ahead of time?” 

“I’ll see if I can help her any.” 

Harley waves goodbye, telling him to text when he got home. 

“I’m Spidey, I know how to get home safely,” Peter says, smiling anyways. “But I will. Anyway. Just to humor you.” 

“You have run into a telephone pole as Spidey before, you truly still think I have faith in you?” 

“I think a little bit of faith. Maybe a tad.” 

Harley rolls his eyes. 

“Go home before May successfully burns down the apartment complex this time.” 

“Will do!” 

Peter smiles one last time before exiting. 

“You, my dear son, are in love,” Rhodey announces. 

“Dad!” Rhodey snickers. 

“You did not learn subtlety from me, you learned it from your Papa, which is to say: you have learned no subtlety. It’s not my fault you’re entertaining.” 

“Ugh.” 

- 

But Harley keeps thinking about Peter. 

He knows that Peter is going to hate being alone, no matter how much he would actually watch the prequels. Peter hates being alone anyways. He’s always at least with someone, can’t stand being by himself. 

And on a holiday? One that’s usually spent with family of some kind? 

Well...it shouldn’t be that way. 

So at dinner, as Dad and Papa are talking about some sort of update on a phone, and Harley says it. 

“Can I invite Peter to Thanksgiving?” 

Dad and Papa stop. 

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Papa says softly, grinning. “I’m assuming it’s because he told you that May is on duty for that day?” 

“Yeah. I don’t think...I don’t want him to spend it alone.” 

His parents share a look, a look that they’ve shared a million times, one filled with soft understanding and so much love. 

“I’ll let Grams know we have an extra guest,” Tony says. “After all, it is my turn.” 

Dad snorts. 

“Sure it is, honey. Alright, Harley, call him up.” 

Harley grins, practically giddy. He’s excited to share this with Peter, to have him in this life. 

(And yeah, he’s hoping that it’s like the stories that Dad tells him at night, the ones over iced water and quiet reassurances late at night.) 

He presses the contact information, smiles as Peter answers on the second ring. 

“Harley, did I forget something?” 

“I don’t think so, no. But I wanted to ask you something.” 

“W-what did you want to ask me?” Peter asks. His voice sounds faint, almost nervous. 

“You sound weird. You okay?” 

“Yes. I am more than okay. I am perfection.” 

“Okay loser, don’t tell me. But I wanted to invite you to Thanksgiving with us.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. No one should be alone.” 

“I mean, I don’t want to trouble you. I can be fine on my own.” 

“Peter, you are a terrible liar. You hate being alone. Besides, you’ve never had Grams’s cider before, and that clearly needs to be fixed.” 

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Peter says, laughing. “What do I need to bring?” 

“A blanket and maybe a sleeping bag if you got one. If not, no big deal, we just usually stay the night since it can be a bit of a drive.” 

“You sure you still want me coming?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Um...it’s family time?” 

“You’re close to me, Peter,” Harley says. “And I want you around all the time. I’m just glad you wanna come. You’re gonna love Grams.” 

“Okay. What time should I swing around Stark Tower?” 

“Uh...lemme ask.” 

Harley hops off his bed, phone at his shoulder. 

“Papa, what time do you want Peter over for the ride?” 

“Seven-thirty!” Tony says. “Unless you two want to canoodle before you’re stuck in the car with us geezers or something.” 

“Stop!” Harley hisses, glaring at his father as he snickers. “Uh, Peter, did you hear any of that?” 

“Something your Papa said made you yell, but nothing else?” 

“Okay, get here by seven-thirty in the morning, if that’s okay.” 

“I’ll set my alarms.” 

“Alarms?” 

“Well, I don’t wake up that easily.” 

“And here I thought Spidey-Sense was real.” 

“Hey!” 

- 

Harley decides he’s made either the worst decision of his life or the best, and it all depends on if Papa catches him staring so blatantly at Peter. 

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. He leans against the kitchen counter, and he’s still in an over-sized sweater with a scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. Harley really wants to fix it, just reach out. It’d be so easy, so cute 

“Harley I swear to god, please get your bag in the car before it becomes like the worst-family-picture-event,” Papa says. 

Peter seems to perk up at that. 

Of course. 

“What would the worst family picture be?” 

Rhodey already has his phone out. 

“Harley forgot his bag, which had all of his clothes. Only a Wal-Mart was open, and...” 

Head-to-toe sports neon. It was bad. Harley was frowning with his brows lowered in an obviously-frustrated expression while Tony and Rhodey sandwiched him, obviously bemused by the happenings of the holiday. 

Peter laughs. 

“Aw, you were so cute when you were little,” he says, smiling. “Really cute.” 

“Even in neon?” 

“Well, you’re cute in anything. Even neon.” 

Harley nearly spills his coffee. 

The ride there is mostly quiet. Tony hums along to the music, smiling slowly at some as Dad explains how Papa was the worst dancer on earth. 

“Not as bad as Peter,” Harley pipes up. 

“Harley.” 

“Oh come on, it’s cute,” he teases. “The way your arms flail like spaghetti is endearing.” 

“See if you get a sandwich from Delmar again.” 

“Oh the tragedy,” Harley moans. “No sandwich from Delmar!” 

Peter laughs. 

“You two get some sleep, Mama isn’t gonna stop bothering you two,” Tony decides moments later. “Come on.” 

Getting to sleep is...not easy. Especially when you’re supposed to. But Peter smiles. 

“Share a playlist with me?” 

“Sure.” 

Peter’s music taste is amazing. Seriously. Harley usually sticks with what Papa plays, although occasionally he’ll foray into some of what MJ plays. 

Peter’s music is relaxing. It’s light, easy. There are undercurrents of a deeper meaning, and what the memories make it be. 

The current song reminds him of the end of the summer that year, when they had an end-of-summer-picnic and he fell into the pond, and Peter couldn’t stop laughing and took about a million pictures of Harley actually in the water. 

"You remembering that time I fell?” Harley says, grinning at Peter. 

“I’m remembering how good my photos turned out,” Peter says, although he smiles. “You made a fantastic model. You always do.” 

Harley turns red. 

“Um, thanks. I always have a great photographer, wouldn’t you know it?” 

This time, Peter turns red. 

“I’m gonna try to take a nap,” he says. “Mind if I use your blanket?” 

“Not at all.” 

And Peter settles against his shoulder. 

It’s uncomfortable, but hell if Harley minds it. He smells good, and he’s so soft. He probably needs sleep. Knowing Peter, he probably stayed up half the night with homework, or something that had been a project for SI. 

Rhodey catches his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and nods. 

After all, there’ll be more than enough questioning when they get to Mama’s. 

- 

Harley gently jostles Peter awake as they pull into the driveway. It looks like some cousins are already there, and Mama is already halfway out the door, most likely intent on attacking her son-in-law in kisses and hugs, and seeing how tall Harley has grown. (One inch, but now he’s taller than Tony.) 

“My baby!” she declares, attacking Harley in kisses. 

“Grams,” Harley whines. “I need to help Peter out of the car.” 

“Oh let me see him,” she says, grinning widely. 

“Don’t make him scared of us.” 

“Why would we be scary?” 

“I’m not mentioning the incident of 2011.” 

“That was one time!” 

And then Peter is out the car, grinning. His cheeks are flushed from warmth, and he’s already helping take out the luggage and the dishes from the car. 

“You must be Mrs. Rhodes, it’s good to meet you.” 

“Call me Grams, young man,” she says, eyes sparkling as she turns to Tony. “He reminds me of you at this age.” 

“I was not nearly so scrawny,” Tony says with a wink. “I was charming and devastatingly handsome.” 

“Oh yes, because nothing says devastatingly handsome like train tracks for a mouth,” Rhodey deadpans. 

“And yet what did we do in your room? As I recall, you--” 

“Tony!” Grams admonishes. “Not in front of the kids, and not in front of me.” 

Tony smiles sheepishly. 

“What can I say? I have wormed my way into your heart.” 

“Unfortunately,” Rhodey says. “Peter, watch out for Tony. He can get away with anything, he’s Mama’s favorite. Even though I’m her son.” 

“Well when you fix a finicky Ford in freezing weather, tell me immediately.” 

“Still?” 

“Still!” 

Harley drags Peter, holding his hand. 

“Come on, you have to meet everyone still.” 

- 

Peter is just a bit overwhelmed, but mostly laughing as Harley takes him around the house. 

He meets Grams and Grandpa and hears all about Harley’s embarrassing stories, and he thinks it is rather nice, the dusting of red that Harley gets on his cheekbones. 

It’s a bit odd. Usually, he and May just watch Seinfeld reruns on the couch, or sometimes May has a friend’s apartment that they go to. 

They’ve given up on ever fixing an Official Thanksgiving Dinner after Ben, and maybe it’s too bittersweet a memory, or maybe it’s because when Ben died, there went the last of the talented Parkers in the kitchen. 

So Peter is surprised when Harley leads him to the kitchen to help him prepare the potatoes. 

“I make the best roasted potatoes,” Harley says. “It’s from the family cookbook, but I always add a little extra.” 

He leans in conspiratorially, and Peter catches a whiff of his cologne. 

“It’s extra onion. Don’t tell Papa-Tony-he’s been trying to get it for forever.” 

“I shall promise,” Peter says solemnly, saluting. “Scout’s honor.” 

“Were you ever in the program?” 

“For a year. I dropped out after I accidentally almost became a missing persons case.” 

“Please tell me it was because you chased a butterfly.” 

“How did you-?” Peter splutters. “How did you guess?!” 

“It’s a you thing, and I know you,” Harley says, poking his shoulder. “Now come on, help me peel potatoes before Grams makes you set dishes with Aunt Lola. She’s nice, but...talks a lot.” 

“I gathered.” 

It’s peaceful, almost. Peter works easily, handing peeled potatoes to Harley, and when they’re all done, helping chop them. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Harley says. “I, um. I wanted you here.” 

“You...you did?” 

“You’re the best person in my life,” Harley says softly. “And I, well, I--” 

“Harley!” comes a yell. 

He seems frustrated to Peter’s eyes. 

“What, Dad?” 

“Come here and help me with an air mattress for your cousin Vince!” 

“Why can’t he help?” 

“He’s supervising your Aunt Jeannie at the store!” 

“Why does she need supervision?” 

“She watched Chopped!” 

Peter laughs as Harley huffs. 

“Well, we’ll come back to it,” he says softly. “Don’t worry.” 

Peter finishes with the potatoes, and moves onto the onions. He looks at the stained page in front of him, and sees a small addition in Harley’s unmistakable engineer-block-writing about more onions. 

He smiles. 

He wonders if when he grows up, they’ll have a-- 

OH. 

Well. It’s not exactly a surprising thought. He’s been in love with Harley since freshman year of high school, after their second week of gym when Harley dramatically decided to pass out and shorten the class by about twenty minutes.

When Harley looked back and grinned at Peter, right at him, it was then and there that he fell.  

(MJ called him “the most love-struck boy in the world”.) 

- 

Harley bounds down the stairs, grinning as he sees Peter at the table, helping Grams with the cider. 

“You’re trusting someone to help you after all this time?” 

“You finally bringing someone after all this time?” 

“Grams, I’m still young.” 

Her eyes sparkle as she pushes some cranberries towards Harley. 

“Picked out some extra. And I remember when your Dad was your age, don’t think I don’t have the guts to tell the stories.” 

She gets up from the table. 

“You know the recipe by heart, love. Help your guy with it.” 

Harley slides into her seat, grinning softly at her. 

“Thanks Grams.” 

“I’ll come and see your results in a bit.” She smiles fondly. 

Peter and Harley are alone. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

Harley turns red. 

“So, um. Is it okay if I’m awkward for a minute? And I don’t know how you’ll feel about it, but I think it’ll be okay.” 

“You’re always awkward,” Peter says softly. He’s stopped cutting up the oranges, knife laid to the side. 

“Well. Um. Yeah.” 

“Harley,” Peter starts out. “You can tell me anything. I promise you that it will be okay.” 

Harley looks at him. And really looks at him. 

“Can I...can I dance with you?” 

Peter’s eyes widen. 

“Really?” 

It’s getting late, the night already dark for hours. The family is quieting down, and most have retired to their respective rooms. 

“Yeah, really.” 

Harley drops a record on the old player, smiling as the familiar croonings of Bing Crosby lift over the house. It’s a favorite of his dads: Only Forever. 

Peter stills as he hears the lyrics: 

Do I want to be with you as the years come and go? Only forever, if you care to know...

“You mean...?” 

“I mean it all, darling. I mean it all.” 

Peter smiles and there’s almost a tear in his eye as he leans his head on Harley’s shoulder. 

“I love you, Harley Keener.” 

They sway like that for a moment, and all is well. Harley breathes out, and he listens to Peter’s heartbeat slow down. It’s a good moment. 

-

For their wedding album, Tony surprises them with a picture of their first dance. The real one.

Harley absolutely does not cry and if anyone says that they saw him, they are lying liars who have received uninformed news. 

(No matter what his husband tells them.) 

[heavenlymisa]

The Cook-Out: Part one

Pairing: Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader (Any body type! <3)

Warnings: cursing, Erik being full of himself (like always..)

Summary: The reader takes Erik to her family’s cookout and her family is eating Erik’s shit up.

AN: Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction EVER so bare with me if this is trashy as hell or something. <3

“Come on, babe! We’re gonna be late!”

“Yeah, yeah, aight. I’m comin’.”

Every Thanksgiving for your family was the same. You’d go to hang out, talk to some people you didn’t even know was part of your family who turned out to be some random ass people your momma took in, eat the bomb-ass barbecue food your dad grilled up, dance with your younger and older cousins who claimed that you were the best cousin of the family (I mean.. They didn't lie.), and last and most certainly the worst, being teased about your lack of a boyfriend. Almost every person in your family either had a boyfriend, fiance, or husband. Even your little cousin Zoe has a boyfriend! And she's 10!

But today, you don't need to worry about being teased about not having a boyfriend. You have Erik Stevens, your boyfriend of 7 months. Although you don’t have to worry about the ‘Not Having a Boyfriend’ embarrassment, you have to worry about something else; Your family accepting Erik.

Sure Erik is a handsome and intelligent guy, but you still have that pit in your gut about them not accepting your boyfriend. 

“Ayo, Y/N. Ready to go?”

You quickly brushed your ripped jeans and looked up at Erik. 

“Uhm- yeah! I’m ready.”

Erik wrapped his left arm around your waist and pecked you lips. He looked you up and down and gave you this ‘The Fuck??’ look.

“Uhm… Is that what you wearing?”

You looked yourself up and down before responding.

“Yeah. What, you don't like it or sum’?” You grabbed the keys and started heading to the door.

“Oh, yeah. I like it, aight.” Erik quickly followed you. “I just don’t want some bum ass niggas staring at your ass, ma.” Erik opened the door and you too hurried out the door.

“Babe, it’s just gonna be my family.” You locked the door and you two walked towards Erik’s Lamborghini Veneno. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” 

“Oh yeah?” Erik unlocked his car. “What about them niggas your cousins and aunties and uncles be bringing?” He opened the door for you and you murmured a small thank you while you got in his car.

Erik got into the driver’s side of the car and started it while staring at you.

“Oh, so your bum-ass don’t got anything to say now?”

“Nigga, shut the fuck up and start driving.” you said while laughing. Erik chuckled while he pulled the car out of the driveway.

/////////////////

You two made it to the cook-out and your nosey-ass cousins already yelling at everyone to come look at the car that just pulled up to the cook-out. Luckily, the car windows are tinted so your cousins don’t know who’s in it.

You started to grab your stuff until Erik put one hand on your thigh and another on the bottom of your chin. He lifted your chin up slowly, causing you to look at him.

“Baby, whatever happens today, I love you.”

You tilted your head towards his hand and looked up at him with puppy eyes. “Aww, Baby. I love you too.”

He looked at you for a split second more and sighed while quickly taking his hands off of you. 

“Alright, enough with the sappy shit.” He put on his sunglasses that you got him for Christmas. “I got a family to win over.”

You scoffed. “Alright nigga. Good luck.”

“Oh please, Y/N.” He opened the door. “I don't need luck.”

He got out of the car and walked to your side. From inside the car, you can hear them nigga’s saying, “ohh, who’s nigga is he??”, “Dayyummm, he can run me over with his car anyday.”, “Is he single??”, and “this nigga done robbed a bank probably.”

He opened your door and when you got out, your cousins started wildin’. “Y/N, that’s your nigga?!?”, “She got a boyfriend?”, “About fucking time.”, “Damnit! He’s dating Y/N!”.

He closed your door, locked his car, and followed you to your parents.

While you two we’re walking, Erik was eating this shit up. He was grinning ear to ear about the things that your aunties and cousins said about him. You, however, couldn't wait until today was over because you knew the moment you two stepped into your house, he will brag about what you family said about him.

As you two walked up to your mom and dad, you mom started to walk towards you two.

“Y/N, is this who i think this is?” Your mom raised her eyebrows at Erik, making him feel giddy inside.

“My name is Erik Stevens, ma’am.” He stuck his hand out to shake her hand. “And yes, I am your lovely daughter’s boyfriend.”

They shook hands while your mom looked up at him, astonishing. 

“Are you treating my daughter right?”

‘Moom…” you whined softly.

“Yes ma’am.” Erik snaked his arms around your waist and squeezed softly. “Every single day.” 

Your mom leaned in and whispered into your ear: “He’s a keeper.” And walked away from you, making sure that everyone is eating or has eaten.

Erik kissed the top of your head softly and whispered into you ear: “One parent down, one more to go.”

taglist: @mccrps​ @dr-haze​ @imadreamysoul​ @teehjayy​ @pastelastronomy24​ @regulartuan​ @enigmaticaphrodite​ @srirachibi​ @queen-with-the-queen-shirt​ @disorganized-mess-xxx​ 

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! <3

[bethhxrmon]

do flowers exist at night? -chapter eight

Chapter Eight: A Turkey Dance

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: After a little while, Thanksgiving has finally decided to show up. It causes Annie to have some realizations about everything around her.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, dysfunctional family stuff

A/N: Howdy, not gonna lie, I’ve run out of motivation over the last month. I’ve got up through chapter sixteen written, but reblogs and comments are the best way to help me get that motivation! Also, school’s starting for me tomorrow so that is definitely going to come before this fic. Anyways, if you’d like to see the other parts of the fic you can go here.

~*~*~*~

Thanksgiving was ordinarily a good enough holiday. There was food and a parade to watch plus a cute dog show afterwards. Annie's parents were never into football, so she never had to put up with watching the sport. However, this year was a little different than other years.

By a little different, that meant it was a huge difference. Initially, she assumed that it would just be her mom and herself sitting in front of the television and watching whatever was on.

Now, Annie wasn't against her mom dating someone else, but introducing the guy at Thanksgiving just felt a little bit weird to her. It could have been worse, though. The guy could have been a complete dick and Annie would have purposely made the day a living hell for everyone.

Fortunately, Scott Clarke was a nice guy. There wasn't any way around it. A part of Annie wanted to just hate him, but it was easy to like the middle school science teacher. How he and her mom met was beyond her, but her mom seemed pretty happy about it.

Steve told her to just give him a call if things got unbearable. His parents would be around, but he swore he would make up an excuse to help her out. What were friends for if not saving what was originally a well-liked holiday?

Everything was pretty nice that morning. Annie was working on baking a pumpkin pie and was making some mashed sweet potatoes. That was about the extent of her cooking ability. The pie was easy, she just had to pour a few cans of mix into the premade crust and make sure it didn't burn. The sweet potatoes were just the anomaly of being able to cook one thing decently enough.

"I've heard a lot about you from your mom," Scott said.

Annie nodded as she poured in the pie filling, "Yeah, I've heard a bit about you from some kids I know."

"Which kids?"

"Um... I think they're your AV kids? Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and I think Max is in there, right?"

"Yes, you'd be correct," he grinned, "They're a bright group. How do you know them?"

"Um..." she paused, realizing she couldn't explain the real circumstances, "I helped babysit them a couple of times."

It was obvious that Scott was trying and Annie had to give him some credit. From how the kids talked about him, he was a smart and nice guy. While she wasn't ordinarily inclined to trust the judgement of a bunch of eighth graders, she trusted those kids.

While this wasn't the Thanksgiving Annie had counted on, it wasn't warranting a call to Steve. However, when the doorbell rang, a few alarms automatically went off in Annie's brain.

She went over to open the door and saw none other than Carter Hardwick. Already, she could feel her stomach twisting in knots. As nice of a guy as Scott was, she doubted that he dad would take well to him. Hypocritical yes, but what was a shitty parent if not just that?

"Anne, aren't you happy to see me?" he asked.

Annie forced a smile, "Uh yeah! Just um- just a bit unexpected."

"Well, I wrote."

Maybe she shouldn't have burned those letters after all.

Begrudgingly, she let her dad into the house. What other choice did she have? If her mom wanted to force him out, she wouldn't stop her. However, Annie was all too aware that she had no way of telling anyone what to do in this situation.

"And who's this?" her dad asked, nodding at Scott.

"Mom's new boyfriend," she said, her brain simply short-circuiting.

How couldn’t that have happened? The way her dad stared at the other man made Annie want to crawl into a hole. Thankfully, her mom came out into the living room. There was no hiding the look of disdain on her face. It was even more obvious when her mom asked him to talk with her for a moment.

He shrugged, "I'm sure whatever you have to say to me can be heard by our daughter and whatever asshole you've got over here."

"I'm speaking to you alone," her mom insisted.

That left the living room with only Scott and Annie. They both decided to just watch the dog show going on in front of them. Erik hopped onto the arm of the couch and Annie busied herself with petting him.

"So what's that little guy's name?" he asked.

"Oh, this is Erik. He's the family cat, but he likes me the most. Probably because I'm the most relaxed one in the house, I guess."

He nodded, "Poor, poor Erik."

"Wait... you've read Phantom?"

"Well, of course. It has some of the most amazing scientific ideas for the time!"

She thought a moment before nodding, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

While Annie wasn't sure what to think of her mom dating someone, she was at least glad this guy was nicer than her dad. The contrast was obvious when her parents both walked out.

"Anne, you'll be happy to know your good-ole dad's gonna be here for the day," her dad said as she dodged him ruffling her hair.

"You're not my dad," she said plainly before her eyes widened a bit.

That wasn't something she counted on coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't about to take it back. Technically, she was right. Neither of her parents were biological. Still, they took care of her like they were. Except, with all the things her dad had said and done in the past, she knew she could hold that lack of biology against him as long as she wanted.

"Go to your room!" he snapped.

Annie let out a laugh, "Are you serious?! You don't even live here! If you actually wanted to be a good dad you would... you- well you would pay the damn child support once in a while! You only have to make thirteen of them!"

"Annette!" her mom said, "I think you could use a moment to cool off."

That was the nicest way her mom could tell her to go to her room. Maybe she hit a nerve or two, but Annie knew she hadn't said anything that wasn't already true. There wasn't any use in arguing, though. Not when she almost wanted out of the situation. She picked up her cat and took him to her room with her.

This was the exact sort of thing she was supposed to call Steve over. So she took the phone in her room and dialed his number. As it turned out, Steve did have a phone in his room. One which they had both completely neglected that night a few weeks ago. A night she wasn't over by any means. She hadn't told her mom about any of it, and she knew that she probably would never be able to explain it. It still stuck around in her head. The inter-dimensional and the real things that happened just wouldn't leave.

She let out a sigh as she heard the phone ringing and she twisted the phone cord around her finger.

"Hello?"

"Steve?"

"It's not even noon yet," he said, almost laughing, "That bad already?"

Annie chewed on her lip, "My dad made a surprise visit... I kinda told him he's not my dad and to pay the child support for once."

"Oh shit..." he sighed, "I'd try to come and get you but um- my parents sprung a surprise trip to my aunt's on me."

"That- that's fine, I get it. You gotta see your family."

"If it's any consolation, I'll wish I'm not there. I'd really prefer to hang out with you."

She smiled a bit, "That's nice... I'd rather hang out with you too. Of course, I'd rather hang out with a cockroach than be stuck here."

"Well, if I make it back early enough, maybe I can make something work," he suggested.

"I'd like that a lot."

There was shouting in the background of Steve's end, "Uh I gotta go. Good luck, though."

"Thanks um- you too."

Then the phone clicked off and Annie set her own on the receiver. Admittedly, she almost counted on hanging out with Steve. Aside from the kids, there really wasn't anyone else she spent a lot of time with.

The thought of him trying to come over later did make her feel special. Not that she was about to say so. It was normal, they sort of just had each other. She didn't have any friends to begin with and she knew Steve would sooner die than third wheel his ex all the time.

Aside from sort of being social outcasts and dealing with the Upside Down together, what did they have in common in the first place? Maybe they had a similar sense of humor and similar music tastes, but almost anyone could have those things in common. They were just friends and Annie knew that didn't mean they had to do anything more than that.

Either way, Annie knew that she wasn't going to bother with leaving her room until someone told her to. Continuing on with her reading of War and Peace was fine with her. Contrary to her dad's opinions, she thought it was an interesting book.

A part of her was almost too invested in some of the drama of it all. What with Natasha now being tempted by Anatole as Sonya tried to be a good and loyal cousin as well as a friend. It had her reading the pages as quickly as she could. Though, a huge factor in getting through the book as quickly as she was had to be waking up in the middle of the night.

The nightmares didn't happen every night, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference either way. It was too much for her to deal with. While Steve wanted her to talk about it with him, she still didn't say much about it.

"Annie?" her mom knocked at her door.

She marked her book, "What's up?"

The door opened as her mom stepped inside, "You know, I think we still need a couple of things from the grocery store."

"Wait," she looked over the list being handed to her, "I thought we had-"

Her mom cut her off, "We're gonna run out soon. Just take your time, alright? There's no rush."

"Oh, okay."

This happened often enough when they lived in New York. If tensions got really high, her mom would send her out somewhere to do something. That didn't mean she missed out on all the yelling and arguing, though.

Still, it was enough for Annie to take the hint and grab her red, fleece-lined jacket off a hanger and left the house without saying anything. She was almost positive they didn't need any of this. They had more than enough butter and Annie could barely stand Stove Top stuffing in the first place.

She walked rather aimlessly, though she was headed toward the town. If she were too aimless, she would have ended up in the woods. As bright as the day seemed, she still didn't trust herself to go there alone.

Besides, she still hadn't found her switchblade since trying to fight Billy. A part of her thought it was possible he had it. Though, it was just as likely that it was in some obscure place of the Byers' house. She didn't want to go back there any time soon. It wasn't that she had anything against the family, but the thought of going back into the house or stepping into the living room? That was out of the question.

A part of her wished she had some way to actually make Billy pay for everything he did. The problem was that there wasn't any way to do that without giving away everything else. Not that she could think of, anyway. And who knows, maybe she didn't interpret everything properly. Maybe he hadn't done anything.

Her hands clenched inside her jacket pockets as she continued walking. A part of her wanted to tell her mom at the very least. The closest that got was when her mom saw the scar that the cut she got on her face left behind. She blamed it on getting into a bit of an altercation with Erik.

After walking for some time, Annie found her way to a small park. Someone was sitting on the swings. She could see the red hair from pretty far off, but she was unsure of who it was. Though, the closer she got, the more certain she was.

"Max? What're you doing out here?" she asked, sitting on the other swing.

Max looked over to her, "Um... just hanging out."

"None of the guys are available?" she asked.

Max shook her head, "It's Thanksgiving, everyone's with their families."

"Yeah? Well, then what're you doing out here? It's a bit chilly."

"Um..." Max let out a sigh, "You know how the whole divorced kid thing goes. It's my first Thanksgiving without my dad around and Neil and Billy are... um... they're being themselves."

Annie frowned, "They're not hurting you are they? Because if they are I-"

"No, not like that. After I almost hit Billy's nuts with that bat he's been a bit better. It still um- it scares me sometimes, though.

She nodded, "I guess that makes sense. I wish I could look forward to my dad showing up out of nowhere today, but that guy's a dick."

"Oh, was it just gonna be you and your mom?"

"And your science teacher."

"Mr. Clarke?!" Max exclaimed, laughing, "You're kidding!"

She laughed along with Max, "I'm not- I mean, having my mom date some guy like this is weird, but- but I guess things could be a lot worse, you know? Well, before my dad showed up and managed to make it awkward for everyone."

"Oh, that sucks. Sorry, I just don't know what else would help you."

Annie shook her head, "That's alright. You're, like, thirteen? You don't need to worry about helping me."

The both of them stuck around and talked to each other for a while. They managed to avoid actually talking about the awful things Billy had done. Likely because neither of them were prepared for a conversation like that. At the very least, Annie knew that just thinking about talking about that with anyone was enough to make her nauseous.

Eventually, it was for the best that Max went home, so Annie walked her back before turning around and heading back to her own house. She would have to face everything there eventually. But maybe her dad decided to buzz off by that point.

There was no such luck, though. As awkward as it was for her, she gave Scott props for not finding an excuse to get out of the house until the meal was over. If she were him, she  would have faked a family emergency in a heartbeat. Though, it was possible that he was just a better person than she was. Lots of people were.

"So, Anne, I've heard you're reading War and Peace," her dad said as they all sat around eating pie.

Annie nodded, "Yep."

"I don't understand why you would bother. I've already told you all the reasons it's a waste of time."

Annie set down her fork before looking over at him, "Maybe I started to realize you compulsively lie about everything. Oh, or maybe I realized people have different tastes from you. Hm, maybe it's the fact that I couldn't give a shit about your opinion of me after everything you've done."

"Language, young lady! Elsa, is this really what you're letting our daughter get away with?"

"I'm not your kid! If I were, you wouldn't send me a ten page letter about how I-"

"Cut it out! Both of you," her mom snapped, "Look, I'm not about to kick my own daughter out of my house, but Carter? I've done nothing but try to make this day decent and, frankly, I'm tired of that. I need you to leave."

Annie focused on her pie as her mom and dad headed out of the kitchen. It beat getting told to quiet down or to stop rambling. Although, it was clear the enjoyment of silence wasn't mutual.

"This pie is great," Scott told her.

She forced a smile, "Thanks... my mom ended up doing most of the work this year, though."

"You know, I hope you don't think I'm intruding on anything. I know this wasn't the best time to try and introduce myself."

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you. Having my mom date someone is super weird, but I don't hate you. That being said, if you even so much as think about hurting my mom, I'll find a way to make your life a living hell."

Eventually, Annie was able to go back to her room for reasons other than getting into it with her dad. It was nearly midnight and she was focused on the book in front of her as she sat in her bed. There wasn't any school the next day, so she didn't worry about what time she went to bed.

Her distracted state didn't last long when she heard something knock on the window. When she looked out she only saw a shadowy figure outside and her eyes widened. Though, looking closer, it was obviously just Steve.

She opened the door, though she did so a bit sheepishly. How could she have been so easily scared by her closest friend? Steve slid in quietly, though there was a bit of tumbling in since her bed was right under her window. If he got his shoes on her light grey comforter, she would have probably screamed.

He grinned, "Told ya I'd come over."

"Steve, I- I wish you'd told me first," she said.

His smile faded a bit, "I can leave if-"

"No, sorry, just," she sighed, "I don't know, everything just really sucks right now."

There was a long pause before Annie let herself say what happened that day. She wished today could have been normal. That every day could be normal. If that meant her life was boring then so be it. Maybe all the boring people had it right.

"That's really shitty," Steve said, looking at her.

"Yeah."

"Hey, maybe it'll get better."

"Maybe."

A few more minutes and Steve was doing everything he could to get Annie to laugh. It took a solid half hour to get a real laugh out of her, but he did it. After getting her a bit more distracted, they ended up talking about everything except the things they should have probably talked about.

Instead, it meant both of them staying up until the clock in Annie's room read that it was nearly three in the morning. It was around that point that Steve passed out in the chair next to her desk and Annie was only partially on the bed with her head and torso laid out on the carpet and her legs on the mattress.

Tag List (lmk if you want on):��@dungeons-and-demodogs​ @nxncywheeler​ @ilovebucketbarnes​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #280

“this is the place in our mind with a crooked crown / we came to execute its own perfect shutdown”

Do you have a strong local accent? No. Do you prefer green or red grapes? Red, but either is fine so long as they’re crisp. Can you stand on your hands unassisted? pffff Who was the last person to knock/ring at your door? Pizza guy. How old were you when you last went trick or treating? No idea. Have you ever been bobbing for apples? ”No. That’s a gross game lol you’re dipping your head and mouth into water other people are dipping their head and mouth into.” <<<< This. What’s your most expensive piece of clothing? No clue. What’s the last thing you took a picture of? Guys I actually took a selfie bc for once in my goddamn life, I felt really pretty with the makeup Summer did on me. She's working towards a degree in cosmetology and is so talented with it. What’s the last thing you drew a picture of? A meerkat pup. Have you ever been on a pogo stick? Omg, yes. I got one for I think Christmas one year as a kid and I got SO into it. I learned how to do it really well. Can you down a pint (of anything) in one? Probably not without throwing up. Have you ever been banned from a public place? No. Have you ever been in a newspaper? A couple times, I think. I know once in elementary school for when I was in chorus; we went somewhere for a small Christmas show. Then I believe I was in it for another school thing? Idr. What football team do you support? I don’t care for football or sports in general. What did you want to be when you grew up? My phases included paleontologist, vet, movie director, author, game designer, aaaand I know I’m forgetting one. But my current and long-term goal has been to become a photographer. Being an artist as a free time “job” has always been an aspiration, too. Have you ever tie-dyed your own clothes? In school, yeah. How often do you buy new clothes? Very rarely. Usually just around Christmas or my birthday from gift cards I get. Are you reliable? In some ways yes, in other ways no. Are you proud of yourself? No. If you could ask your future self one question what would it be? If she’s ended up happy. Do you hold grudges? Nah. Do you decorate the outside of your house for Christmas? Mom does pretty much last minute, but only sometimes when looking at the past few years. Can you solve sudoku puzzles? Sure, they’re fun. What’s the most unusual conversation you've ever had? Who knows. Are you much of a gambler? Not at all. I don’t fuck around with money, especially when just $5 makes you feel great. Have you ever been to Disneyland? I’ve been to Disney World. Do you sing in the shower? Very rarely. Almost never now that I don’t play music while I’m in there. As a child did you ever suck your thumb or fingers? I mean probably? I do know I loved my pacifier and was SO upset when Mom’s doctor or someone playfully told me I was gonna have to give it up because my upcoming baby sister would want to steal it, and guess what? Nicole never fucking used a pacifier so I was tilted lmao. What time do you usually go to bed? Lol BRO it can be as early as 7 PM on bad depression days to as late as like, 2-3 AM. I’d say the average time is like… 9:30. What's your favorite animal? MEERKATS hngggggggggggggggg Have you ever been in marching band? No. Do you have any enemies? No? At least I don’t consider anyone to be. Have you ever been a cheerleader? As a kid, Mom wanted me to so I could do something with my sisters, who were actually interested in cheerleading. She certainly didn’t force me to or anything, I just agreed to it despite not being into it. We were with this Christian sports group for a long time doing various sports all the while being taught lessons in Christlikeness. I’ve actually got warm memories of it Did you ever date anyone on the football team? No. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No, not that I’m against the idea tho. The plushy would just have to be very special to me and also comfortable to hold. How many consecutive days have you ever missed of school? I missed an entire week when I learned about Mom’s cancer. I could barely function. With how much school stressed me, I would NOT have managed. Have you ever been pregnant? No, not in my to-do list. When was the last time you wanted to speak out, but couldn’t? I’m sure it was recently over Facebook; most times, I keep my mouth shut over political things on there that might get me fired up because I’m afraid of confrontation. Are fingerless gloves awesome? I love them. Wore them daily in high school. I still have some of my favorites, though I’m doubtful they still fit my hands… Would you rather be cannibalistic or die in the wilderness? Okay so I’m gonna actually go kinda in-detail, so the squeamish be warned. Realistically, I think I’d choose to die. ESPECIALLY if I was the one expected to kill another person; then, there’s no question. I wouldn’t be able to do it either if I knew the person. If it was some stranger someone else killed and cooked, I don’t know with absolute certainty; starvation really can make animals out of people. I do know for sure I’d vomit. I far more heavily lean into still preferring to die, because I just believe some things aren’t worth living after they’ve been committed. I’d hate myself. I’d rather die feeling clean of conscience. Would you survive on a deserted island? Hell no. Have you dyed your hair eccentric colors in the past? Yeah, I want to do it far more often… What size drink do you usually get at fast food restaurants? Medium, sometimes small. What do you think is the best thing in life? Love, both platonic and romantic. Have you ever sold anything online either on Craigslist, eBay, Amazon, etc.? If not, what is your website of choice like any of the above for buying things? We sold our previous dog over Craigslist, and I sold my iguana there as well. I know Mom has used eBay and Amazon, but idk for what. Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Have you ever had a pet give birth before? I’ve seen old pet cats give birth many times. What is something you want to try to accomplish within the next year? I want a job that I’m content with and can mentally handle. Oh, and I REALLY want to make strong progress on recovering from the muscle atrophy in my legs. What’s the most unusual kind of pizza you’ve ever tried? I have no clue; I’m not that adventurous with pizza or food in general. If you were given the chance to decorate an entire house the way you wanted, with no limit to cost, how would you decorate it? GOTHIC AS A MOTHERFUCKER WELCOME TO THE GOTDAMN ADDAMS FAMILY. What’s one of your favorite things to touch/feel? My cat. :’) How often do you wear tights? Ew, never. Has there ever been anything you’ve become interested in much later than other people? I guess Instagram, but only as a viewer. I don’t have a personal one, just for my photography that I only rarely post. Have you ever had a veggie burger? Yeah, during my vegetarian streak. Burger King’s really aren’t that bad so long as the patty is made well. Do you like candles? Yeah, sure. When was the last time you wore a sports bra? Forever ago when I was doing Wii Fit. Where did you get the shirt you’re currently wearing? I think Hot Topic? It’s an oversized Umbreon shirt. Who last messaged you on Facebook? My friend Summer when we were planning our lil witch photoshoot w/ friends. Who last walked you home? lol you don’t just have someone “walk you home” here. Bundles of homes are way too far and in-between for reasonable walking distance. Did you make any new friends lately? If so, what are their names and how did you meet them? Not really recently, no. Would you rather see your favorite band/artist in concert with 2 other people or have a free $20,000 shopping spree to Walmart? Seeing Ozzy with my mom would be a DREAM, but to be realistic, I’d take the shopping spree pretty damn quickly. $20k? That would do WONDERS for us, especially as we’re about to move into a new place. When was the last time you threw up and why did you? A long time ago when I started a new medication. Do you want revenge on the person who has hurt you the most? … I’m gonna be REAL honest. For the most part, no. But ngl there are times I’m like “I’m gonna work on getting back in shape and become H O T” like a petty bitch lmao this is embarrassing to admit. Has anyone ever claimed that you saved their life? Yes. Did you ever have that near-drowning experience? No. Have you ever performed on stage? For dance, yes, but I never did a solo. Are you a jealous person? Not jealous (usually), but I’ve come to realize I’m a pretty envious piece of shit. Morning person or night person? I’m in my best mood in the morning because I have the “it’s a fresh start” ideology. Then I repeat exactly what I did the day before. :^) Have you ever written a poem for someone? Numerous times. Do you meditate? No, but I wish I could without it only causing more stress. Do you like cranberries that they serve for Thanksgiving? EW I hate cranberries. What don't you understand that frustrates you? Finances. Do you plan on going to college? I’ve tried college three times and dropped out each time. I’m done trying with school. Do you believe the governments hide technology and information from the public? AbsoFUCKINGlutely. Which is your favorite Pokemon? Ninetales! What horror fiction character scares you the most? What’s the name of the villain in the Scream series? Ghostface? I don’t feel like looking it up, but he TERRIFIED me as a kid, and I still think he’s mega creepy. Were you part of the Brownies/Cubs/Scouts/Guides etc? I was in Girl Scouts. Have you ever invented a fairly unique meal or drink? No. Do you have any family secrets? Don’t think so. Do you often read your horoscope? Never. They’re bullshit. Have you ever had a proper Tarot reading? No; also bullshit. Have you ever milked a cow? No. Do you love or hate rollercoasters? They’ve always scared me because I’m afraid of throwing up. Now with how dizzy I get, I absolutely refuse to try one because I WILL faint with all the movement. What’s your favorite sportswear brand? idc Who’s your favorite superhero? Does Deadpool count? Who’s your favorite villain/baddie? If we’re still in the comics/superhero universe, the Joker. Have you ever won a giant-sized cuddly toy from a fair? No. What would you say is your favorite album of all time? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne. I fucking adore it; it was my introduction to metal, and still after all this time, every track S L A P S. I deadass played that CD so much that it scratches at a few points. Do you dislike hairy people? lol fuck this question. I’m guessing you’re asking if I find them attractive and not as if people I “dislike” them, but in both cases, it’s no. We’re mammals, who the fuck cares how hairy you are. Do you like your own name? I actually do really like my name. My first one, anyway. Would you ever sign a Prenuptial agreement? NOPE. Want one? You’re gonna have to find someone else willing to, my man. How long has your longest ever phone call been? No less than two hours, but I know more. I have three instances in particular where I talked with either friends or Jason for SO long. Could you ever have an affair with a married person? Hell no. What is your family Christmas like? Nicole comes here so she and I open presents with Mom, then we spend the day at my older sister’s to be with the kids. We also try to squeeze visiting Dad in there the same day, but sometimes it has to be a different one. If you met a genie who offered you three wishes, what would you wish for? (more wishes does not count) Just three is hard… but #1 is indisputably world peace, and then uhhhh the end of poverty and maybe the cure for cancer. I’d have a super hard time picking a third; so many things matter to me. Have you ever had your national flag painted on your face? No, not in my plans. Do you have any strange body things? Well, define “strange,” I guess? Nothing like, really strange. What fairy tale character would you most associate with? Can I be Snow White and attract cute critters like moths to a flame? Also I would 100% take a Good apple. If a loved one was to serenade you, what song would you most like them to sing? It would depend on the person and our bond, really. Is there a cherished song between us? What is our relationship like? There’s no umbrella song I can think of. Is your dad an embarrassing dancer? GUYS!!!!!!!!!!! My sister’s wedding, okay? Father/daughter dance? He actually has MOVES and it was incredible man, never gonna forget that. What if any unusual objects have you swallowed? Nothing, I think. If you were stinking rich, would you only go to places other rich people went? Hell naw, man. There are plenty of great, affordable places in all categories. I could be a millionaire and you’d still see my ass in McDonald’s ordering a burger and fries lmao. Have you ever owned a slinky? My sisters and I had multiple as kids; those were d o p e. Teenage parents, good, bad, or indifferent? An AWFUL idea. A teenager is physically, most likely financially, and mentally unprepared to raise a child properly. It can seriously affect the kid, and of course the parent. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever broken? I’m unsure. Pirate downloads, good or bad? It’s bad… yet plenty (myself included) have/do do it. Democracy, good or bad? Good. It’s very important to me that rule should come from the people’s majority versus a small coalition of rich guys. While the majority is not always right, it seems like the best option to me. Communism, good or bad? Okay so to be totally honest I actually don’t entirely understand what communism outlines. Like I just read multiple definitions and small articles and I’m still kinda like “????”, though judging by the countries listed as those governed by communism, I would guess it’s bad? Have you ever been electrocuted? On an electric fence, but it wasn’t too bad. Have you ever been hit on by someone of the same gender? Yeah. The war in Iraq, good or bad? Get the fuck out of it. To start with, I’m a pretty fierce pacifist, and just… killing and killing and killing for YEARS is so goddamn pointless and is just a massacre. The war in Afganistan, good or bad? jfc ^ Have you ever appeared on YouTube? LET’S NEVER TALK ABOUT THIS lmfao Have you ever eaten anything prepared by a celebrity chef? No,, but that’d be dope. Have you ever been on radio? No. Do you prefer male or female singers voices? ”Their gender doesn’t matter, but their talent does.” <<<< Do you have a list of things to do before your ‘x’ years old? Goals should not be judged by age. I’m bad at this and have to remind myself of it a lot. A goal is a goal regardless of a number. Celebrate for *you*. Are you proud, comfortable or ashamed of your body? Very very much ashamed. Do you know html? Super poorly. Have you ever flown first class? lol hunny What are better, violins or pianos? Violins. How old is your oldest blanket? As old as me. My baby blanket is stored somewhere. Do you take enough vacations? lol hell no. I’ve maybe gone on three vacations in my entire life. Have you ever been sick on your birthday? Yup. Then one time I was recovering from a wicked stomach virus but went to Olive Garden anyway lol. I was fine though, and it’s actually a sweet memory because Jason (he worked there at the time) got the staff to do the whole “happy birthday” thing. I got a bombin’ brownie. Who is your favorite person? Sara and my mom. What do you do to stay healthy? lol you assume I’m healthy. What is your favorite form of exercise? Swimming. Do you like going to church? I never did. As a kid, I would cry when/if Mom decided we were going to mass after Sunday school lmao. It’s always been boring and too long to me, even when I was religious. Have you ever fallen asleep during a sermon? Probably as a kid. Do you like to pray for others? No. I don’t believe anyone hears them or will intervene somehow if I ask anyway. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. I don’t think I believe in those anyway. Have you ever been the recipient of a miracle? Definitely not. How did you or whoever come up with the name(s) for your pet(s)? I thought “Roman” was a majestic name for a male cat, and Venus has the coloration that the planet does. Who did you last walk a dog with? Sara and I walked Buster the last time I was there. It was windy as SHIT so we didn’t get far because my ass was absolutely freezing, all the while Sara was used to it. Ride bikes with? Wow, good question. I haven’t ridden a bike in many, many years. Hold hands with? My friend Summer did yesterday when she was trying to reassure me of something. For what reason did you last high five someone? Ryder and Aubree each caught Pokemon in Pokemon GO. :’’’’) I was watching them in the car while my sister/their mom was doing something at work, and they wanted to play it; they’ve come to learn that between my phone and DS, I’m the Pokemon provider, lol. I was the proudest fucking aunt ever bc they did SO GOOD after getting the hang of throwing the ball like Y’ALL. When Ash came back to the car, I gave ‘em each high fives before getting back in. What color and type is your vehicle? Don’t have my own car. Looking to upgrade or add any time soon? I doubt I’ll have my own soon. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Like, décor or stuffed animals, things like that? Not the actual living creature? Easily meerkats, holy shit do I have a collection. What do you use to wash your dishes? Gain soap. Last thing you measured? Uhhh idk. Last thing you weighed? Myself. Last song you danced to? *shrug* What do you remember from your dream last night? I just remember it was a nightmare about Dad being angry. How old were you when you got your first credit card? Lol I don’t have one. Do you talk to your parent(s) [almost] every day? Mom, yes. Dad, no, because we don’t live together. What does your shampoo and conditioner smell like? I just started using a Dove brand shampoo targeting dandruff, so I don’t think it has a specific smell. I don’t use conditioner, just adds grease to your hair, plus mine is short anyway. Last person to tell you that you smell good? Idk. Last person you told that they smell good? I also don’t know. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I’ve never touched it. Last person you ran into unexpectedly? Ummm idr. How many plants can you see right now? There’re none in my room. Last compliment you received on your appearance? HA On your character/personality? That I was a loving sister. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? N/A Who have you hugged in the past month? My mom, Summer, sisters, niece and nephew, Dad… Newest musical discovery? 3TEETH is great. Like, I'm obsessed. Their cover of “Pumped Up Kicks” snagged my attention, despite actually being iffy about it at first. Guess what I’m listening to this minute lmao. Last thing you cleaned? A cup. What exactly do you carry around all your stuff in? A purse. What do you carry around, typically? Phone, keys, wallet, hand sanitizer, and my iPod are items of note. Where is your newest scar? It’s on the palm of my left hand from Roman playing with me. Where is your oldest scar? Idk. Last thing you disposed of? The milk carton. What was the last picture someone sent you? Mom sent me a gif from Hocus Pocus to fit the witch photoshoot Summer, her friend, and I did. Did you hear a siren today? No. What do you typically drink? I would rather not pretend I tend to drink soda lmao Last bad news you heard? My aunt’s brother committed suicide a couple days ago. Last good news you heard? I don’t really know. How far away is the closest cinema from your house? It’s like, 15-ish minutes away. Have you ever been to the emergency room? Many times. Are you one of those people who can’t go without their morning coffee? Y’all know me and coffee. But in place, I have my morning Mountain Dew, rip in fucking pieces. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? No, though I’m honestly curious what I’d look like. Do you know the story of how your parents met? If so, tell me? They were coworkers; that’s all I know. What is your favorite Chinese food? I love pork fried rice. Do you live far from your parents? I live with my Mom. I live around 20 minutes or so away from Dad. What was the last hot food you ate? I’m assuming you mean spicy as opposed to just hot as in temperature. In that case, probably hot wings. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. Describe your current position: I’m lying down in bed, just kinda perked up by my two pillows. Have you used a microwave today? Yes; I had a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl. Do you prefer going out for coffee or brewing your own? N/A Have you consumed caffeine today? If so, in what form? yikes- Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? Not that I know of. Have you killed a bug this week? Yes; we’re dealing with a lovely mix of gnats and fleas. What was the first food you learned how to cook? Scrambled eggs. Or maybe pancakes with Mom’s assistance. Idr. Do you have a Bachelor’s degree? If so, what in? No. How many email accounts do you have? Two. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I like my mom to be with me. How long is your average shower? 15 minutes, maybe? It depends on the routine I feel like doing. When’s the last time you had a headache? Yesterday. What woke you up this morning? I think I woke up naturally? A rare occasion nowadays. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Summer, yesterday.

[yourstreetserenade]

So as I mentioned I do have a holiday fic which I’ll be posting in December, until then though I thought I’d share the details on another holiday fic idea I had. I had two ideas and I debated on which story to write and in the end, I decided that the following idea would be more time consuming and I just didn’t have it in me. So the following is my nixed holiday fic idea.

It was a future fic in which Brittana were celebrating their first holiday season as a married couple. The gist of it was this...as a newly married pair Santana would introduce Brittany to a long standing tradition in the Lopez household: Black Friday shopping. 

Santana would explain that she and her mother, Maribel, take their Black Friday shopping very seriously. Every year, no matter what, Santana and Maribel would meticulously map out their plans weeks in advance, scouting ads for the best deals at the best stores. Even though Santana lives in NY with Brittany and there are better shops in the city, it’s a very important mother-daughter tradition that they do their shopping in Lima at the one huge outlet mall. It’s their turf. So Brittana fly back home to enjoy Thanksgiving with both of their families and it’s over dinner that Whitney learns that Brittany is going to join Santana and Maribel for Black Friday shopping. Feeling as if they should include her as well, the Lopez ladies extend an invitation to Whitney. Later that evening, after filling their bellies with food they prepare for retail war.

Whitney and Brittany are a little taken back by how serious Santana and Maribel are about this. They have laminated maps of the mall, food rations in their bags, mace (in case they encounter any unruly shoppers), perhaps Santana even has a set of brass knuckles (which Maribel confiscates from her daughter). Santana and Maribel approach Black Friday with as much intensity and detail as a military maneuver. Whitney and Brittany side eye how ridiculous they are but they overlook it, Brittany loves Santana and Whitney is just jazzed to be included.

So at midnight, Thanksgiving night, the four women set out on their mission and head to the Lima mall. There’s a few very specific deals they have their eyes on but Maribel has her eyes on a very expensive, very rare handbag. I don’t know handbags, it can be whatever. Hermes, Gucci, whatever. The ladies all agree, the fancy handbag is the priority. 

Our characters walk into Lima Mall to utter chaos. Their friends and neighbors have turned savage, Santana and Maribel are nonchalant about this, after all, they’ve done this all their lives. Brittany and Whitney are a little out of their element however, perhaps a little bit overwhelmed and maybe even slightly amused to see the usually calm, professional and articulate Maribel Lopez go absolutely apeshit on someone over an air-fryer. The four ladies navigate the mall without incident and manage to bag some sweet swag. Eventually they take a break, refueling with protein bars between stores, it’s then that Santana and Maribel break it down for the Pierce women. Santana explains that everyone in town - everyone in the mall - knows the Lopez women run that mall each and every Black Friday. The name Lopez strikes fear in most people so for the most part all soccer moms and dads know not to mess with them when they’re after a deal but there’s a couple of families in town that like to play and butt against them in a bid to win more power.

‘’The Cohen-Changs and the Fabrays,’’ Santana identifies the two other mother-daughter pairs she and Maribel have been warring with for decades.

‘’You mean our friends?’’ Brittany would ask. 

To which Santana would reply, ‘’They’re not our friends, at least not on Black Friday.’’

Because what happens in the Lima Mall stays in the Lima Mall and it turns out that outside of Mckinely and outside of the Glee club the Lopez’s, Cohen-Changs and the Fabrays have been in competition to be the best, most badass Black Friday deal shoppers. Years of sabotaging each other, one-upping each other and so on. Brittany laughs, but Santana is straight-faced.

‘’Babe, this isn’t a joke,’’ Santana declares. ‘’Our three families have had bad blood for years, okay? You’re an official Lopez now which means you’re a part of this. This is important information that you need to know. Now I haven’t seen the Fabrays or the Cohen Changs today but that doesn’t mean they’re not here. This handbag is the holy grail - the it item of the season. My moms wants it but word is the department store has a very limited stock. We gotta make sure we get our hands on one before either of those bitch ass families do!’’

Meanwhile! Interspersed with all of the action scenes in the mall there will be a handful of cutaway scenes that take place in the parking lot as Brittany’s dad and Santana’s dad wait for the women in the Pierce family’s old minivan. Lots of silly banter, with Santana’s dad being the serious straight laced one and Pierce being...Pierce. 

The four ladies gear up at the mall, arming themselves with walkies and essentials before storming the department store in question. They wade through the mass of people, elbowing and kicking and screaming and through team work they manage to get their hand on the very last handbag - the handbag of Maribel’s dreams. There’s a moment of celebration between them all until they realize - where’s Brittany?

It seems in the kerfuffle to get their hands on the bag Brittany has vanished, swallowed up into the crowds.

The three women are confused but don’t panic until they hear a message over their walkies. It seems someone has ‘’intercepted’’ Brittany. 

‘’You hand over the bag, we hand over your wife,’’ says the person who has taken Brittany and is using Britt’s walkie to make demands on the Lopez-Pierce women.

Santana doesn’t need to be told who it is, she already knows. ‘’Fabray,’’ Santana seethes.

Insert a FaceTime call. Santana and Quinn glare at each other down via their devices. ‘’What do you want, Quinn?’’

‘’I think I’ve made my demands fairly clear, Santana. I want the bag. The choice is yours, you can either trade the bag for your wife or you can keep the bag and suffer the consequences. Who knows what horrible things will be inflicted upon Brittany in the meantime.’’

‘’Hey, babe,’’ Brittany would greet Santana, pushing up against Quinn in order to be in the video frame. ‘’Quinn just bought me a bunch of churros!’’ 

‘’Brittany, go sit down!’’ Quinn shoves a perfectly safe, perfectly intact Brittany away because obviously this is more of a mind game than a lethal game, but Quinn and Santana are both playing up the intensity for all it’s worth, cause comedy. ‘’As I was saying, Lopez, if you want to see your wife again, you’ll hand over the bag. She’s being held captive at an undisclosed location. You have two hours to make your decision. I’ll contact you again with the location of the trade off, if you dare contact mall security, well...I can’t promise Brittany’s safe return.’’

‘’Quinn, can we go get some Panda Express?’’

‘’Yes, Brittany, we can go get some Panda Express.’’

End call. 

Insert some crazed primal scream from Santana. Because of course! 

Of course Fabray would play it like this. Of course Quinn would be after this hot bag and of course she would play dirty. This was Quinn’s plan all along, Santana concludes, Quinn would let Santana, Maribel, Whitney and Brittany do the dirty work of actually going through the great unwashed crowds, only to ‘kidnap’ Brittany for the trade off. Quinn would get the bag without having to do any of the work. Evil genius! Santana is mildly impressed but she isn’t about to submit. Maribel is worried and Whitney is on edge so Santana takes the lead in this.

‘’Here’s what we’re going to do - we’re going to play along,’’ she tells her mother and mother in law. ‘’We’re going to make Quinn think we’re going to meet for a trade off but it’ll be trap. We’re going to walk away with Brittany and the bag. They’re somewhere in the mall and we just have to find them.’’

Then insert lots of little scenes as the ladies make their way through the mall, perhaps even bumping into other Glee characters (because everyone is home for Thanksgiving and there’s literally nothing else to do in town). Maybe there’s a short montage as they travel from level to level, occasionally stopping to buy and eat a hot cookie as they search for Quinn’s makeshift lair in the mall. 

Eventually all of their running around and clue collecting leads them to believe that Quinn is keeping Brittany in the back stockroom of a Claire’s (which is really sort of a nod to the fact that Claire’s used to sell a lot of silly Glee merch back in the day, like there were Rachel and Quinn themed makeup ‘’palettes’’ lol - also does anyone wish they could go back in time and actually buy all of the dumb Glee merch just to have for shits and giggles and nostaglia, sometimes I do, I remember once going into a Barnes and Noble and seeing a backpack with Finn’s face on it, god, 2009 was a simpler, stupider time and I miss it). Anyway! They make their way to the Claire’s in the mall, bust into the back stock room to find Brittany - again perfectly safe and totally nonchalant. And because they outnumber Quinn they’re able to take back Brittany...briefly.

Once they defeat Quinn (who is left beneath a huge pile of headbands or something) they make their way out back into the main walkway of the mall only to find some giant dance mob demonstration happening with carollers and all kinds of nonsense. It’s there that Brittany gets ‘intercepted’ once again!

They may have just defeated Quinn but they forgot about their other bitter rival: one Tina Cohen Chang. 

‘’I’m gonna kick your sneaky ninja ass when I see you Tina,’’ Santana declares over FaceTime.

Tina isn’t amused. ‘’First of all, racist, second of all, how does it feel to lose your wife not once, but twice, Santana?’’ 

‘’You should know by how I handled Fabray that I don’t negotiate with terrorists, Chang.’’

Thus begins another mission through the mall to find Brittany and again Santana, Whitney and Maribel have to navigate through several stores which have turned into complete war zones. Soccer moms fighting over big screen tvs and people punching each other out over shoes, etc. As they move through stores, kiosks and the food court Santana is in a rage. This wasn’t how their first joint Black Friday as a married couple was supposed to go, she should’ve known once she brought Brittany into the fold others would use her as pawn to gain more power and knock the Lopez family down. Revenge for all those years of the Lopez family tricking, manipulating and fighting dirty on every Black Friday for the past ten years.

Maribel honestly doesn’t care at this point. ‘’Look if they want the bag we can just give them the bag, I’m tired, I just want to get Brittany so we can all go home.’’

But Santana isn’t having it. ‘’No, we’re getting Brittany but we’re not handing over that bag, mom. This mall is our turf - we run it. Retaliation must be swift and brutal. Gangland rules. We figured out where Quinn’s hideout was, we can find Tina’s too and then I’m going to bust a metaphorical cap in her metaphorical ass!’’

After some brief brainstorming Santana decides to make some calls. Insert Face Time with Mercedes, who’s bleary eyed because unlike her idiot friends, she’s at her family home in Lima in bed where all the normal people are Thanksgiving night at 2am.

‘’If Tina were to set up a secret ninja liar in any store at a mall, what store would it be?’’ Santana would ask in greeting.

‘’What the hell are you talking about?’’ Mercedes would scramble to look at the time. ‘’What, it’s 2am, what’s going on - oh wait. Black Friday. Let me guess.’’

‘’Tina has Brittany and she’s holding her hostage somewhere in the mall unless I hand over a Hermes bag!’’

‘’It’s too damn early for any of this nonsense, I’m hanging up.’’

‘’Wait, no, Mercedes, I need your help.’’

‘’Well, junior year whenever Tina and I would hang out at the mall, her favorite store was always Hot Topic.’’

‘’Of course, goth phase era Tina. Why didn’t I think of that?’’

And this of course would be a nod to the Hot Topic tour the cast did when the show first started. They surround the corner Hot Topic to find Tina holding Brittany captive among a bunch of emo shit. Then begins a brief but hilarious tussle between Santana and Tina who is eventually restrained and tied up using like, tattered emo black lace tights.

The gang of ladies walks out of the Hot Topic, again to madness going on all around them within the mall. There’s fist fights, there’s screaming, maybe even a small fire, the residents of Lima have mad this Black Friday and the mall is a warzone. People have gone straight up gorilla and now the mission is to escape the front doors but before they can there’s another interception!

Except this time it’s Maribel and Whitney who are whisked away, vanished into the crazy crowds. Brittany and Santana are confused but once Quinn and Tina join them in their spot, our pair realizes neither Quinn nor Tina are responsible for their moms going MIA. One, they’re standing right in front of them so they couldn’t have and two, they’re not that organized or powerful.

Who could it be this time? And why take their mothers?

The answer comes when they get a FaceTime call from someone from their past. The only person who could and would hire henchmen and go to crazy lengths to get her way. Sue. On screen Sue is sitting in a chair, petting a cat, full villian mode.

‘’Let me guess, you want the handbag?’’ Santana huffs. ‘’Why, it isn’t even your style, what the hell would you want with it?’’

Sue shrugs. ‘’When I travel by plane I tend to get sick in the air and I’d like to use it as my primary vomit bag. If I’m flying first class I’d prefer to vomit in style. I’ve been watching you, your friends and family run around the mall all night, sandbags. Quinn and Tina are amateurs but you know that unlike those two boobs, I can do serious damage if I so chose. So hand over the bag and I’ll hand over your mothers.’’

End call. Brittany and Santana, as well as Tina and Quinn converge to discuss. Yes, Tina and Quinn kidnapped Brittany earlier but those were harmless power plays, but Sue? Who the hell knows what she’s capable of, Quinn reminds them, after all, she almost shot Brittany out a cannon junior year. Sue could ship their moms off to some deserted island or frame them for tax fraud or waterboard them or all kinds of crazy shit.

‘’I’m not handing over this Hermes bag so Sue can puke in it during plane rides,’’ Santana declares.

‘’She has our moms, Santana,’’ Brittany urges.

‘’Look, I got you back twice, didn’t I? I’ll get our moms back.’’

‘’Yeah but what were you up against? Tina? Quinn? No offense, ladies, but you never stood a chance. But Sue? She’s like a legit Disney villian, Santana.’’

Thus begins ANOTHER trek through the mall, this one takes them through employees only section, security camera rooms and air vents. Like all of the action movie tropes, but in this instance played for laughs and all taking place in a shopping mall. Eventually it all leads to a big showdown on the mall rooftop where Sue is leaning into the villian role, even going so far as to tie up Maribel and Whitney to chairs and putting bags over their heads.

‘’Tweedledee, Tweedle fakeboobs, you’ve arrived,’’ Sue greets them.

‘’Here’s the damn bag now let our moms go.’’ Santana tosses the bag in Sue’s direction like this is some kind of mob pay off or drug deal.

Sue inspects the bag and then nudges the moms up and our of their chairs, the moms blindly walk towards their daughters. Lots of hugging and embracing as they work to release Maribel and Whitney of their blindfolds and hand restraints. All the while Sue stands tall, observing the tiny dots of people exiting the building with shopping bags in tow. She has a long and ridiculous spiel about consumerism, american greed, materialism and such. ‘’Look at those unwashed idiots, screaming and trampling and stabbing each other and for what? Big screen TVs and seventy five percent off of mom jeans at Old Navy. Have they no sanctity for the holiday? Then again this holiday is based on a false narrative to erase the very real pillaging and destruction of a native culture so perhaps this…’’ she makes a wave to the barbiac acts and people below them. ‘’...is very much in line with what the holiday represents. Either way, I’m off to spend the next two weeks on my private island so I have a plane to catch and a bag to vomit into. Always a pleasure, Lopez, Pierce.’’

And with that Sue zooms off - taken away by some helicopter that swoops in and scoops her up and all of them are like ‘what the hell’ cause where the hell did the helicopter come from. It’s no matter because they start their way back down off the roof and into the mall. Their all a little worse for wear, some have limps or bruises or small injuries from the evening’s events but they all survived Black Friday at least. Wearily they go down and collect their belongings from where they had hidden/stored them earlier before all the action went down and slowly they FINALLY make their way out of the mall after several hours inside.

The four women enter the Pierce minivan, injured and disheveled. Santana’s father and Brittany’s father jointly turn in their seats.

‘’You girls have fun with your shopping? You get any good deals?’’ Pierce Pierce asks.

‘’I think my ear is broken. Can ears be broken? I got punched in the ear earlier and it feels broken to me,’’ Santana states dryly and to no one in particular.

‘’Honey,’’ Maribel sighs to her husband in the driver’s seat. ‘’Just get us home.’’

Cut to later that night (or technically it’d be the wee hours of the morning, since they start Black Friday shopping at midnight, so when they arrive home it’d be 3 or 4am). Whitney and Pierce have retired to their home. Maribel and Santana’s father have gone to bed as well. Santana and Brittany are in Santana’s old bedroom. Brittany has stitched Santana’s little scraps and bruises up as they prepare for bed.

‘’I’m sorry we all got kidnapped so much tonight,’’ Brittany says.

‘’Babe, it’s not your fault.’’

‘’I know but I feel like me being there got in the way of you and your mom doing your thing, you know?’’

‘’I mean, Black Friday shopping has been a mother-daughter tradition for us since forever, but you’re my family, Britt, that means you’re a part of all the traditions now too, if you want to take part. Although I’m guessing after tonight you’ll never want to go Black Friday shopping with us again.’’

‘’What, are you kidding? If you ask me tonight was a blast! I mean yeah I was a little worried when Sue took our moms for a second but it was also kind of cool, the four of us being a family and doing family things. Like battling the crowds and all of the insanity was a lot but it was also kind of fun. Plus, it was super hot how you got all take chargey and came to rescue me.’’

‘’Hot huh?’’

‘’Totally hot. All that smoldering and chest-heaving…’’ Brittany makes a show of fanning her face.

Santana does her bashful thing but relishes the attention and the kisses and affection Brittany lays on her.

‘’But it also meant a lot to see that you would go to the end of the earth for each of us, all of us and that’s really what this season is all about,’’ Brittany continues, hugging and smooching on Santana. ‘’Family.’’

Cut to a month later. Thanksgiving and Black Friday have passed. Brittany and Santana are once again back in Lima with their families to celebrate Christmas. Everyone is happy and enjoying themselves but Santana’s a little sad she couldn’t give her mother the beautiful rare handbag she had wanted. Maribel waves her daughter off, yes they lost the bag but it doesn’t matter. They still have their tradition and their bond, and now they get to share the experience every single year with Brittany and Whitney now too.

‘’As wild as it was that night, it’s also felt like an adventure with those two along for the ride. I may not have a purse or any material thing to show for the experience but that doesn’t matter. The experience was a gift in itself. Now I have another daughter, now you have another mother, that makes this mother-daughter tradition we have even more wonderful. Plus it means we have an extra two pairs of hands so it’s easier to loot stores.’’

Insert some sweet brief exchanges between Brittany, Santana, Whitney and Maribel who have bonded over the hell that was the first annual Lopez-Pierce Black Friday Shopping Extravaganza.

...

There would be lots of little details and kinks to work out, not to mention a ton of interaction between Santana-Whitney, Whitney-Maribel, Maribel-Brittany in between all of the running around. The characters would have to be moving through the mall constantly and, it would be a lot. Also I don’t know if anyone has noticed but I tend to write things that are very contained. Bachelorette takes place in the span of one night, so does You Instead, IWLTM takes place over the course of one summer. I have this habit of containing the characters either within a space of time or in a specific physical area or both and making that work is always a tricky thing. I just didn’t feel like creating another sprawling fic like that so, I opted for something a little more simple.

I doubt I’ll ever use this Black Friday fic idea but I feel like if I ever had the time to devote to it, it would be a fun and hilarious ride. I wish I could take you readers on it, but, I hope you got a chuckle out of this maybe?

Anyways, if you go Black Friday shopping, be safe and don’t get kidnapped! :)

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

Found ch. 2

Yeah I’m posting chapter 2 here, it seemed to do a lot better when I did that! The AO3 link is here. As always, feedback is desired, encouraged, and greatly appreciated!! :)

TW: there’s allusions to Jack’s self-harm and mention of a razor blade. He doesn’t do anything with it, but I wanna be careful!! 

“So this is your room,” said Medda. “It ain’t much, but it’s yours, for as long as you’d like it.”

Jack looked around the room. There was a big window with a view of the city. On the opposite side of the room, there was a twin XL mattress sitting on a bedframe. The bedframe was a pleasant surprise- that was a hit or miss in the foster homes he had been in. More often than not, the mattress and boxsprings were directly on the floor. Between the bed and the window, an old-looking wooden desk was against the wall with a wheely office chair. Across the room from the desk was a closet next to a dresser with more drawers than Jack could possibly fill with what was in his one bag, not that that was saying much.

As he took in the room, Medda started talking again. “You can rearrange or decorate any way you want. This is your space now. If you’ve got any pictures or posters, feel free to hang them up. We could get them framed, if it’d make you feel more at home. Or if you don’t have any, we can get you some. What are you interested in?”

“I like art,” Jack said quietly as he set his bag down on the ground. What he didn’t tell her was that he never hung things up in places that he went because he didn’t want to get attached to anything. Or feel settled in any place. And the only things in his bag were some old clothes and his sketchbook. Well, those weren’t the only things.

“Oh good! I think I’ve got some art supplies around here somewhere. Just let me know whatever you need and we can get it, alright?”

“Sure. Thank you, Miss Medda,” said Jack.

“Oh sweetie, you can just call me Medda. If we’re gonna be family, I’d prefer to be on a first-name basis.”

“Whatever you say, Medda.”

There was a beat of silence. “Well, Jack, why don’t you uh, make yourself at home. There’s some sheets and blankets in the closet if you’d like to make your bed. I’m gonna go get started on dinner, but I’m right down the hall if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said.

She paused for a moment as though she was going to say something more, then seemed to change her mind and retreat.

As Jack began to make his bed, he thought back to how many times he had done this already. It was strange to think this would be the last time. He’d have to go to a new school. Again. It was August, and he was still a minor. At least it was just one more year to get through, and he’d never have to do it again. Thank God, he thought. School had been a nightmare for him. He was more artistically inclined than academically, and with that in addition to never having a stable environment, he did not exactly impress any of his teachers. Plus, with never sticking around in one place for very long and not being able to afford new things very often, he wasn’t very popular amongst the students either. Best case scenario so far was at schools where he didn’t get noticed at all. The attention he got from students did not tend to be of the positive variety. Not by a long shot.

Honestly, Jack was surprised he had made it this far, not that he had ever told anyone that. Thinking about his future in any regard gave him severe anxiety, so he did his best not to. He knew he wanted to get out of New York. That much was certain. There was nothing for him here. He worried often that there wasn’t anything for him anywhere. But that was something else he tried not to think about.

Jack looked at his bag sitting on the floor. He had no desire to unpack it. Unpacking tended to imply settling in. He always avoided it as long as he could, and while Medda was probably the kindest foster parent he had encountered thus far, it didn’t change his nature.

With a sigh, he sat down on the bed and pulled his bag up and into his lap to take inventory. Clothes. Sketchbook. Pencil case holding his art supplies. He opened up the case- wood pencils, colored pencils, watercolor palette, a couple of paintbrushes that had definitely seen better days. And at the bottom, two pencil sharpeners. One with the blade still attached. Jack opened up the second one just to make sure. The blade was right where he left it, loosely resting in the slot where the pencil was meant to go. Always reliable. He didn’t need to do it now, he just needed to be assured it was still there.

It wasn’t terribly often that it happened. And never terribly bad. Sometimes, he just needed to blow off some steam. Usually, it happened when he started thinking about the things he tried so hard not to think about.

After putting everything back into his bag, he zipped it up and set it on top of the dresser. He jumped as he heard someone knock on his door. “Come in?” he called out. The door opened and a tall, lanky blond boy stepped in. Behind him, there was a shorter boy who walked with a crutch.

“You must be Jack,” he said. “I’m Race, and this is Crutchie. Medda told us to tell ya dinner’ll be ready in a bit and it’s time to wash up.”

“Thanks,” he said. “How long youz guys been here?”

“With Medda, ya mean?” asked Race as he jumped onto Jack’s desk and sat down. “Almost a year, I think. Crutchie’s been here longest.”

“Long as I can remember, almost. Medda was my godmother, and my folks were in a bad accident when I was a kid. She took me in right away,” Crutchie said as he sat in the wheely chair.

“So you ain’t neva been in the system, huh?” asked Jack.

“Guess I lucked out. I ain’t heard many good things about it from the otha fellas that been through here. I neva woulda made it with this bum leg. I got sick when I was real young, and it neva recovered.”

“Lotta fellas been through here?” asked Jack.

“Oh, yeah. Medda loves takin’ care’a kids. Keeps in touch widdem, too, afta they get outta here,” said Race. “Once ya become one’a hers, ya got family for life, no matta where ya go. Thanksgiving gets real messy, but it's kinda fun.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Jack, half-sarcastic.

“Catch?” asked Crutchie.

“Ain’t no catch,” said Race. “I been here almost a year and I been through a lotta places. Far as I can tell, the worst part’a bein here is how much Medda cares.”

“Whaddaya mean?” asked Crutchie.

Race and Jack shared a look, and Jack understood exactly what he meant. When someone cares, it means they’re invested. Meaning, when you inevitably fuck up or do anything self-destructive, it hurts them too.

“Nothin,” said Race. “Fuggettaboutit.”

“How old are ya, Jack?” asked Crutchie.

“Seventeen. You?”

“I’m fourteen. Race is sixteen. Just had his birthday last week.”

Jack looked at Race. “You guys actually celebrate birthdays here?”

“Oh, yeah. Medda goes all out. Makes a cake, sings the song, candles and everything. Even gets ya a gift. She got me new dance shoes,” said Race.

“You’re a dancer?” asked Jack.

“Only ‘cuzza Medda. I always wanted to but neva got ta have lessons. Now I have ‘em three times a week. And she took out the carpet in my room so’s I can practice.”

“What kinda lessons?” asked Jack.

“Ballet, tap, and jazz. Tap’s my favorite.”

Jack was surprised. Most foster families he had been through couldn’t afford extracurriculars at all, let alone multiple dance lessons.

“Boys, come on, supper’s ready,” Medda called from down the hall.

"C'mon, let's go. Medda's a great cook. You'll love it here," said Crutchie.

Jack wasn't so sure, but he followed anyway.

[hanalwayssolo]

What We Owe To Each Other: Ch. 1 - Morning

A/N: WOW I REALLY AM ALIVE IF I AM STILL POSTING MY WRITING HERE LMAO ANYWAY

I originally intended to post this as a one-shot, but my one-shot got too long for my own good so I had to divide it into 6 chapters. Said chapters will alternate between Sam's and Nate's POVs. I've had this plotbunny in my drafts for quite some time, and since I rekindled my love for this game, I have inadvertently activated this particular hyperfixation like a dormant volcano coming to life, so here we are. Also, I realized that this is my first time sharing my writing for Uncharted and I am motherfucking terrified. Please be kind to me.

Morning | Noon | Night | Midnight | Nightmare | Dawn

[Link on AO3]

Autumn in Vermont, as it turned out, was piercingly cold for Sam’s tastes. He honestly thought his balls would freeze off. He might have missed the cold at some point after all those years he spent in Panama, but he could not stand this kind of cold: sharp and biting and cruel. Jetlagged and with barely three hours of sleep, the drive—though scenic at best—became a torment. If it weren’t for his numbing hands around the wheel of his rental car, or the fact that the heater failed to offer him the warmth he sorely needed, he would have taken the time to pause from the long drive, roll down his window, maybe light a cigarette and bask in the view that unraveled around him like a nostalgic Polaroid picture: morning fog veiling the stretch of the freeway; rows of maples and aspens aflame in scalding shades of gold; hills of red and orange and ochre, as if the entire landscape waged a private war against the sky’s dreary and cloudless gray.

But Sam kept driving. No offense to the spectacular colours of fall, but all he could think about was how he was still supposed to be somewhere in India just right about now.

Maybe this entire freezing weather wouldn’t have been half as bad if his recent expedition throughout the Western Ghats had not spoiled him too much of the pleasant summer heat, the exquisite food, the thrilling views—all of which he could never be afforded on this side of the world. That or his long-ass flight from Mumbai to New York simply made it unbearable to adjust to the sickly shift in season. It was a good thing he had some sense to pack warm clothes for the road; there was certainly no way in hell he would have survived in Victor’s old yet tastefully floral Havana shirts and cargo pants. Questionable fashion choices be damned, but he had to admit: those had been immensely comfortable. Even little Meenu was charmed to see him in those clothes. 

Either way, he’s already here. What else was he left to do? He should probably just focus on finding that godforsaken cottage, so he could finally warm himself up with a drink or two…

But even as Sam drifted past foggier hills and even redder mountains, and with the sordid space of the cheap Chevy not getting any warmer, he was beginning to regret heeding Nathan’s advice to postpone his supposedly extended Indian summer.

Frankly, he was beginning to regret agreeing to this whole Thanksgiving affair at all.

Of course, this was all their stupid idea. At the time—still woozy from the euphoric, Libertalia high—they had gladly obliged to celebrate at least one holiday from there on out. But now, turning down the invitation was out of the question, not when Sam had promised Nathan (and even Elena, too, for Christ’s sake, what was he thinking?) that he would give this family tradition a try. And Sam, being a man of his word (or at least, he tried to be) wanted to deliver. He even brought the finest bottle of pinot noir for the occasion. Sure, he may be a lot of other awful things, butbreaker of promises was certainly something he was not keen to add to his growing repertoire of crimes. Especially not after what he had done to Nathan. 

Most especially not after that.

He had already failed his brother more than he should have. Participation on a trivial holiday such as this one or otherwise, he was not going to fail him again.

Besides, what harm could one Thanksgiving dinner possibly do, anyway?

Well, I’d probably end up questioning my life choices, he suddenly thought miserably. We’d all be sitting at the dinner table and Nathan will tell me everything there is to know about their new joint venture, their pleasant life in New Orleans, all the while I’d tell them the most entertaining story of how I almost got myself killed in India, how I’m failing to get my shit together, how I’m the incomparable good-for-nothing in this goddamn family —

A soft and a rather sensual moan shoved him out of that spiraling thought. And then another. It was coming from his jacket pocket; he fished the thing out—which, of course, had to be his phone and its extremely inappropriate ringtone—and saw an unknown number on the screen. He answered by the fourth moan.

“For the love of god’s balls, if this is another insurance offer I’m gonna—”

“Please tell me you’re already on your way here,” the worried voice on the other line said by way of greeting. It was Nathan. 

“Oh. Hi there, little brother —”

“So? Where on earth are you? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday morning—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—relax,” said Sam placatingly, somewhat a little startled with his brother’s annoyance. “I only got here this morning,” he went on to explain. “My flight from Mumbai got delayed, then I had to book a rental car from JFK since my flight going here to Vermont got canceled, but yeah, sure—I’m on my way.”

“And by ‘on my way’, where exactly are you now?”

“Huh.” Sam drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, assessed the area that rolled before him: more maples and aspens and its swollen-red leaves; majestic oaks and its moss-encrusted trunks; an abundance of dew-soaked thickets; an endless foliage of green and gold. The forest around him breathed mist and fog. No nearby house nor sign in sight. 

“Still somewhere in Sutton. I guess,” he answered uncertainly.

“You guess?” Nathan laughed. Sam was certain he heard the slightest sound of mockery from it. “You sure you’re not lost?”

Sam scoffed loudly. “Am I lost?” Lost in my own mind, maybe. “Nathan, I never get lost.”

“Oh. Of course,” Nathan said rather feebly. “Okay.”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you never call just to check in on me. Everything alright?”

A sudden, inexplicable silence. On the other line seeped the thick wail of a saxophone, the shrill peals of laughter, and his brother’s obvious hesitation. It was either Nathan was hiding something from him, or something was awfully wrong. 

Usually, his money was on the latter.

“Uh, yeah,” Nathan said after a strained pause. “Everything’s fine.”

“Nathan.”

“What?”

“I could literally hear your bullshit all the way out here.”

“I… uh, hang on a sec—”  Nathan’s voice faltered and was quickly followed by a muffled noise, unsteady footsteps, a slam of the door. And then another silence, more unbearable than the last.

“Uh, Nathan? Still there?”

No answer.

This time, Sam pulled over the side of the road. He was dreadfully cold and, all thanks to his brother, was now also growing dreadfully anxious.

“Nathan,” Sam said impatiently, dragging a weary hand over his face, “I swear, you’re literally killing me here—”

“Hi. Sorry.” Nathan cleared his throat, letting out an audibly weary exhale. Wherever he was, it had gone completely quiet. “Right. Okay, there.”

“Now what the hell’s going on—”

“I’m going to be a dad.”

A dumbstruck silence. Then, in an almost unnerving wave of relief, Sam burst out laughing. 

“I’m being serious here,” Nathan said irritably.

“Yeah I know—Jesus, Nathan,” Sam said, pressing his forehead against the wheel, “for fuck’s sake—for a moment here I thought you’d be telling me that you’re sick and dying. But, anyway. I’m happy for you, little brother! How far along is Elena? Or perhaps you’re referring to another baby momma here—“

“Goddamnit, of course it’s Elena.”

“Right. Just had to make sure. So. How far along is she?”

“Ten weeks.”

“Ten weeks? Wow, that’s…” Sam trailed off, his eyes narrowing on the road. He was absently watching the swirl of leaves that danced with the autumn breeze until an amusing realization finally dawned on him.

“Now you wait just a fucking second.”

“What now?”

“Really? Ten weeks?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

“Holy goddamn shit, you son of a bitch!” Sam said, unable to hold back his laughter. “I can’t believe you did it in fucking Libertalia—”

“No, no, no—we are not gonna have this conversation."

“Of course we’re not gonna have this conversation," Sam offered helpfully. “At least, not for now. Because I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason why you called me, right? I mean, this could’ve waited until I get there and yet here we are.”

They were quiet again. Outside, the sky had visibly darkened. Drops of rain slowly pittered against the windows. 

“It’s just…” Nathan drew out a sigh, paused, and sighed again. “It’s, well, I just… I’m happy, you have to know that. I really am. But… fuck, I don’t know, Sam. I’m kind of freaking out. What if I mess this up? What if my kid—”

“Whoa, okay—slow down, alright?” Sam leaned back in his seat. “Nathan,” he slowly began, “I know for a fact that you are gonna be a good dad but first of all: have you had the chance to sit down and talk to Elena to… you know, sort your feelings out?

“Yes. Kind of.”

“Nathan.”

“Okay, fine—no, I... we haven’t talked about it. She’s been busy—well, we both have been busy ironing things out with the new firm. We haven’t had the chance. We haven’t had the time—”

“Then make time for it.” As soon as the words left Sam, he realized how sharp and cutting the way he had said it that he immediately regretted being so callous. But if his brother needed to hear his piece of mind, then he might as well tell him what he needed to hear. “Look,” he went on, “I don’t know shit about being a parent or being someone’s husband, and I know I’m not the wisest brother out here and I’ve done stupid things, but I’m not that stupid not to know one thing here. And that one thing I am sure of is that your wife needs you to open up to her. She needs you now, more than ever. So please do us both a favour and calm down and go talk to Elena, ya hear me?”

Nathan said nothing. Another silence. Sam was waiting for a witty remark, a snappy comeback, anything. 

Instead, what Nathan said next was: “Thank you. And can I just say… you’re not dumb, Sam. You never were. If you could just find Darcy again—”

“Okay, don’t even go there.” 

“Right, sorry—oh wait, hold on—” Nathan abruptly broke off. Absolute silence. Then, a series of indistinct noises followed by a voice that was unmistakably Victor’s. Sam waited. Nathan came on again and said, “Sorry about that. Look, I—uh, Elena’s looking for me. We’ll talk later once you get here.”

“Right.” Sam exhaled a weary sigh. “Then try not to lose your shit before I get there, yeah?”

“Ha-ha, cute. Be seein’ ya,” Nathan said and before Sam could even say another word, his brother had already hung up.

Sam sat in solemn silence. Rain drummed heavily against the roof of his rental car as he let Nathan’s news marinate in his head. I’m gonna be a dad. Strange to think how years ago, back when they aimlessly roamed the streets of São Paulo armed with nothing but their stuttering Portuguese, the city brutally carving capable men out of their teenage bodies and testing their will to survive, he and Nathan only used to crack jokes about the mere possibility of this, of settling down just for the heck of it: being the best man at each other’s weddings, buying a house somewhere in the tropics, watching over each other’s kids. It all sounded ridiculous at the time. It all sounded so ridiculous simply because they believed that an ordinary life was something they certainly could never afford in their lifetime. 

Now here we are and my brother’s going to be a father, Sam thought over and over, and I’m going to be someone’s uncle. Shit.

Sam dwelled on that thought more than he should have. And for reasons unbeknownst to him, he was suddenly reminded of Hector Alcázar. Who would have thought that there was once a time that a notorious drug lord had tempted him with the very prospect of a quiet, normal life? How bad could it be to have a family of your own, to have someone you can come home to, mi hermano? Alcázar would ask Sam whenever their conversations steered too close to their own personal affairs. He did not mind. It was not like they had anything better to do with all the time they had in the dark and dismal quarters of their prison cell. And with the way the man fondly recounted many an anecdote about how he had met his late wife, Sam was almost convinced that murderous cartel kingpin or no, everyone’s infamous Butcher of Panama surprisingly owned a goddamn heart. 

Is it really all that bad? Sam had chewed on that question for years like a bubblegum slowly losing its taste. As far as the Drake brothers’ wayward ways were concerned, all this talk about an ordinary life never appealed to both Sam and Nathan back then. They already had each other. They were the family they needed. Why ask for more than they could possibly have? And besides, ordinary meant easy. And they were never meant for anything easy. They were meant for street brawls and petty thievery, for unearthing ancient relics and treasures of dead men. 

But if Sam were to be truly honest—and since honesty came so unnaturally to him, this was a monumental feat—to have an easy life, or at least some semblance of it, did not seem such a bad idea at all. In fact, that was all he ever wanted since their shitty father abandoned them to fend for themselves. Because no matter how many times he had expressed his distaste at even the slightest notion of entertaining such ordinariness, a part of him wanted it. More than he was willing to admit, that part of him still starved for it. Because an easy life also meant a good life. And a good life—a comfortable life after all the shit they have been through—was everything Sam wanted not just for himself, but also for his brother. 

So Sam could only be proud of Nathan for finally finding a good life worth settling for. He was happy for him. He should be happy for him.

And yet...

A treacherous train of thought. Its relentless shriek leaving echoes of all the what-ifs. Maybe if he hadn’t lost the last thirteen years of his life rotting in a prison cell, he might have had a shot at something good, too. Heck, had he made better decisions before Panama, or before São Paolo, or before London even, he might have had something better than good. Maybe he wouldn’t even have these nightmares plaguing him every night. If good and normal and painfully ordinary meant not having to wake up in the most ungodly hour desperately clawing at the bullets that no longer dwelled inside his body, then by all means—he would gladly settle with that. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be sitting in a cheap rental car in the middle of freezing Vermont, wallowing and miserable and bitter, wrestling against the horrible feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Nathan was right. Maybe he really was the jealous one. And he hated himself for it.

Oh, for Christ’s sake, Sam thought. He finally rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic | Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (8/11)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.4k (this chapter)/~21.3k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch.5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7

“Please, please, please? Come on, I think you owe me a little,” Brooke Lynn whined as she padded behind Katya, who was pacing back and forth in the studio. This back and forth had been going on for nearly twenty minutes at that point, but she was fairly certain she was wearing her down.

Katya sighed and came to a halt, nearly making Brooke Lynn crash into her. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to complain about the dinner fiasco anymore,” she paused to think. “Come by my apartment tomorrow morning. But I swear, if you fuck up my car—”

“I couldn’t possibly treat it any worse than you do,” Brooke retorted before perking up. “Thank you!” she hugged her tightly and ran right back out the door. While she had a car back in Canada, there was no reason for her to bring it down to the city. At least, she never thought there was a reason until she found herself in need of a ride to take a pretty Latina on a scenic date out on Long Island.

Brooke Lynn went right from the studio to Vanessa’s dorm, knocking excitedly on the door and hardly waiting a second after she opened it. “Everything’s in place for tomorrow. It’s gonna be great,” she let herself in to the dorm and sat on Vanessa’s bed. “You’re going to have so much fun, I promise,” she regretted saying that the instant it came out of her mouth, though, afraid that she had just jinxed things and unleashed a horrible chain of events to follow. Not that she would ever announce that fear.

Vanessa sat down on Brooke’s lap, twirling her hair around her fingers and placing little kisses over her face. “You know you don’t gotta do nothing crazy for me, right?” she left a small hickey at the base of her jaw. “We don’t have to do anything, or wear anything…”

“There will be plenty of time for that too, I promise,” Brooke cooed, holding her head in place to kiss her properly. “Just let me do something cute for you, ya stubborn bitch, okay?” she let out a jokingly exasperated huff, then a surprised gasp when Vanessa pinned her down to the bed.

Vanessa lingered over her for a moment, then kissed her deeply. “I look forward to it.”

----------

The drive took Brooke Lynn and Vanessa a little over an hour and a half, lucking out with minimal traffic. However, it took Vanessa all of twenty minutes to doze off and sleep the rest of the way there, lucking out even further in avoiding any sharp turns, bumps, or potholes. Brooke Lynn didn’t mind either way, of course. She would steal glances at her sleeping girlfriend every now and then and find it adorable, and she almost hated to wake her when they arrived at the destination. “Vanjie, baby, we’re here,” she gently shook her awake.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Vanessa sat up, a bit disoriented. She blinked rapidly as she fully woke up, looking around. She saw rows and rows of trees surrounded by an expanse of fall foliage. As someone who only alternated between Manhattan and Florida, it wasn’t a sight she saw very often, nearly tripping over herself to get out of the car and take a picture. “Brooke Lynn! Get out here and look at this!”

Brooke Lynn giggled fondly as she got out of the car. “It’s a beautiful day out, isn’t it?” she wrapped her arm around Vanessa’s waist and kissed her cheek. “C’mon, we didn’t come all the way out here just to look at trees. We came to pick apples off them,” she hummed, leading her into the orchard, where she paid for a bag for each of them before looking around.

Vanessa tilted her head as she looked down the rows of trees. “How many different types of apples are there?” she asked with furrowed brows.

“The website said twenty-seven,” Brooke recalled as they began to walk down the rows. “I think we should get the ones that aren’t in grocery stores. Or even like, Whole Foods,” she mused, plucking an apple from a tree, something that was quite easy for her to do at her height.

“There is no way there are twenty-seven types of apples,” Vanessa muttered and shook her head, picking from one of the shorter trees. She was about to take a bite of one when her phone started to go off. “Oh, hold up, it’s my mom,” she answered cheerily.

Brooke watched as Vanessa spoke animatedly with her mom. She was speaking in Spanish for the most part, leaving her in the dark. She didn’t mind, in fact, one thing she had always loved about New York was hearing the various dialects people around her spoke in.

“No, todavía no he reservado mi vuelo, ¿por qué?” Vanessa scratched the back of her head, then her eyes widened. “¿Vienes aquí?” she still seemed confused but had perked up in excitement. Then there was a pause, hesitation in her tone. “¿Puedo traer a mi ... um, hay alguien que quiero que conozcas?” she winced but laughed. Her cheeks had a noticeable blush on them. “No hagas una gran cosa al respecto, por favor,” there was a soft sigh of relief, she seemed content. “Sí, yo también te quiero, adios,” she hung up and shoved her phone into her pocket.

“Is everything okay?” Brooke asked with a mouth half-full of apple. She could eavesdrop all she wanted; it didn’t clear up anything. She took French in high school and hardly remembered any of that either.

Vanessa smiled, but there was still an air of nervousness around her. “Normally I go down to see my mom over Thanksgiving, but she just told me she’s coming up, cause my auntie in Washington Heights decided to hold it this year. And since I figured you don’t celebrate it…I asked to bring you,” she glanced down, chewing on her lip.

Brooke felt a pang of nerves hit her as well. They had only just allowed themselves to consider what they had a real relationship, and now she was less than a month away from meeting the family. “Yeah, uh, I’ll just have to let my mom know. I’m sure she’ll understand,” she spoke as if she was still holding her breath but smiled warmly. “Alright, let’s get going, the traffic’s gonna be hell, and we need to find somewhere decent to stop and eat,” she shook off the unease and got back in the car with Vanessa. She wasn’t about to let anything interfere with their perfect date.

----------

“Has Brooke Lynn seemed a little…off to you lately?” Vanessa asked.

A’keria couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Girl, no one pays more attention to her than you. If anyone’s gonna notice any change, it’ll probably just be you,” she looked at her friend’s face fall and sigh. “Why does she seem ‘off’ to you?”

“She didn’t answer any of my texts yesterday til like, almost midnight, and when she did, she was just like, ‘oh sorry, I was busy’. Then in class she seemed super distracted and kept looking at her phone and shit. She just isn’t like that, you know?” Vanessa frowned, fumbling with the sleeves of her sweater.

Instead of sympathy, A’keria rolled her eyes again. “I’m not sure if this has occurred to you, but Brooke Lynn is an adult, she’s probably doing graduate work or paying bills or something like that,” she sat beside Vanessa and put a hand on top of hers. “Have you considered that you might be projecting a little after the whole thing with the ginger bitch?”

Vanessa crossed her arms. “I am not!” she looked down, thinking with knitted brows. “Or maybe I am, I don’t know…what should I do, then?”

“Wait it out, I’m sure it’ll be fine. And if not, talk to her and figure it out,” she shrugged. “In the meantime, get your ass together, we gotta go to work.”

Vanessa groaned and got up. Work had become so much of a chore as of late. The customers were no better or worse than usual, but her boss seemed to have developed a vendetta against her. Suddenly, she was getting shorter, worse hours, and she hadn’t pieced together why.

“He’s probably just mad ‘cause you threatened to call corporate after he grabbed your ass,” A’keria offered.

“Brooke Lynn taught me how to do that. That’s what happens when you date a white lady,” she beamed proudly, getting through the rest of her shift, doing her best to ignore the way her boss would give her a dirty look every time she glanced in that direction.

By the time her shift ended, however, Vanessa was tired and cranky. She just wanted to relax and get comfortable. And for her, that meant letting herself into Brooke Lynn’s apartment with the spare key she knew was left under the mat. “Brooooke?” no answer. “Brooke Lynn?” she could hear her voice from inside her room, and that pissed her off. “Really, bitch? You’re gonna cold shoulder me?” she stormed towards her room, only to stop in her tracks with a perplexed expression.

Brooke Lynn was sitting on the floor with a couple books in front of her. She had her phone sitting atop one of the books and had headphones in her ears. At first, it appeared that A’keria was right with her theory that she was doing course work, but then she continued talking to herself. “Quiero un vaso de agua por favor,” she repeated the phrase a couple more times, scribbling into a notebook.

Vanessa beamed, leaning against the door frame. Okay, maybe she had been a little paranoid, and maybe she had just ruined a surprised Brooke had been planning. But she didn’t need the anxiety of a surprise beyond this anyway, she decided. She quietly walked up behind her and kneeled down, carefully taking out her headphones and whispering “Quieres ayuda, mi amada?” in her ear and kissing her cheek.

Blushing fiercely, Brooke closed her books and set her phone aside. “You know, I told you about my spare key in case of emergency,” she murmured with a soft laugh. She turned to face Vanessa, accepting the kiss the other girl placed on her lips.

“I did have an emergency,” Vanessa defended. “I missed you and you weren’t answering my texts,” she pouted and sat across from her. “You’re teaching yourself Spanish?”

Brooke nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. “I wanted to surprise you at Thanksgiving by introducing myself to your family in Spanish without sounding like a confused six-year-old,” she confessed softly.

“Well, you can still surprise her. My family probably won’t have the highest expectations…no offense,” Vanessa hummed. “I’m gonna help you though. We can make it fun, like a game,” she offered brightly. She tilted her head in thought for a moment. “I’ll give you words for you to translate, and if you get it right, I’ll take an article of clothing off, and if you get it wrong, you do,” she told her with a slight smirk.

“Sounds a lot more fun than answering to an animated green bird,” Brooke retorted with a laugh. “Alright, hit me.”

And so, they went back and forth. Vanessa would think of words off the top of her head and Brooke Lynn would translate them to varying degrees of success. After about ten minutes, Vanessa was still in her bra and panties while Brooke had lost every item of clothing. “You’re getting there,” she offered in consolation, though it was really a win-win as far as either of them were concerned.

“But I still need to learn the important things,” Brooke insisted, grinning at her confused expression before continuing. “Like, how do you say…’kiss me’?” she asked as innocently as she could muster. Vanessa rolled her eyes and giggled. “Besame.”

Brooke leaned forward and carded her fingers through Vanessa’s hair. “Besame, Vanessa,” she did her best to sound seductive and sultry, only using her proper first name because she felt it flowed better. She didn’t wait for a response, moving her hand to gently grasp her jaw and kissing her deeply. “Am I getting it yet?” she asked softly, resting their foreheads together.

“You a damn fast learner,” Vanessa chuckled. “And I can see why you like being a teacher so much,” she joked, kissing her again. “But, you know, even if you weren’t, I think they’d appreciate the effort. I know I sure do. I’ve dated white girls before, none of them ever gave a shit about learning. Always saying ‘oh I know enough from high school’ or some shit,” she remarked. “What I’m trying to say is, thank you for caring about me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Brooke shook her head. “The bare minimum you should expect out of a relationship is someone that cares about you. Otherwise, there’s no point, that’s not a relationship worth having,” she took Vanessa onto her lap. “Now…” her expression changed into a smirk. “let me show you how much I care,” she picked her up and placed her on the bed, “and spell out all of those vocabulary words with my tongue,” she slid off her underwear as she spoke.

Vanessa smirked, propping a pillow up under her head. “Damn, you nasty too. I really hit the fucking jackpot,” she hummed, tossing her bra aside as well.

Brooke kissed Vanessa and gazed into her eyes. “You really haven’t been treated like you deserve,” she frowned for a moment, then kissed down her torso before her head ducked between her thighs. While not actually spelling out words with her tongue, she moved skillfully in ways she knew her girlfriend liked, never stopping or flinching as she moaned and writhed.

“Fuck, baby don’t stop, just like that,” Vanessa pleaded, ever the vocal one – something Brooke Lynn had found to be as unsurprising as it was enjoyable. She hardly took a moment to breathe until she was fully spent and laying sprawled across the bed in a post-orgasm bliss. “Mm, have I ever told you how good you are at that?”

“I’ve had a hunch,” she replied with a smug grin, coming back up to kiss her sweetly. “Now get some rest, you’ve worked so hard as a teacher today,” she cooed and lay beside her.

[words-and-fangirling-wonder]

A One Piece Thanksgiving

Hello Everyone! Here is the first fic of my Holiday Fanfic Extravaganza!! I hope you enjoy the sappiness.

Fandom: One Piece

Rating: General Audiences

Author: Fangirl Wonder (WordsandWonder on AO3)

No Pairing

“So wait, you have a whole holiday about turkeys?”

Luffy cocked his head to the side in interested confusion. He liked birds as much as the next person, but dedicating an entire day of celebration to them seemed a bit extreme. But from the way the bar was plastered with turkey-themed decorations, he got the feeling his opinion might not be shared by the occupants of this island. Orange, red and brown paper cut outs of turkeys danced in the breeze from the fans where they hung from the ceiling. Turkey shaped flower arrangements adorned every table and the paper plates and napkins that came with his food showed cartoon versions of the fowl as well. There were even little ceramic turkey salt and pepper shakers! He’d seen some weird islands traveling with his crew, but this turkey-crazy one was something else. And now this guy was telling him the decorations were for some holiday coming up? That was an awful lot of turkey love.

The islander shook his head. “No, no, the holiday isn’t about turkeys. It’s a day when people get together and celebrate and give thanks.”

Luffy couldn’t help making a face. “For turkeys?”

“No! We’re giving thanks for the bounty of the past year. It’s a tradition that goes back to when our island was first discovered!” he explained proudly.

Robin perked up from across the table at that. “Oh? Could you elaborate on this tradition?”

“Sure! So way back over a hundred years ago, a man set sail from his home island looking for a safer, quicker route to the New World, right? But his navigation was off, and he ended up here instead! He was disappointed, but he realized that this place had a ton of natural resources, so he started spreading the word that he found this great new island. Before you know it tons of people started making their way here, but many of them were coming from islands with big cities and didn’t know anything about living off the land. That’s when the natives stepped up …”

“Natives?” Robin questioned.

“Yeah, the natives. They stepped up and helped the travelers learn to live off the land. You know, hunting, fishing, growing crops, all that stuff.”

“But I thought you said the man who was looking for the New World discovered the island?”

“Yeah, he did, but I mean, the natives were there when he discovered it. It was a bloody mess for a while too, cuz they tried to fight the settlers off. But they lost, obviously. Then a native who had learned our language helped negotiate a peace treaty, and his people started helping after that.”

“I see,” Robin said with a small frown. “Sorry to interrupt. Please continue your story.”

“Right. So at the end of the settlers’ first year living on the island with the natives’ help, they threw a big feast …”

“A feast?!” Luffy, who had lost interest in the history lesson until that point, chimed in.

“Yeah! A big feast with turkey and venison and pumpkins and corn and potatoes and all kinds of good stuff! And they sat down and had this big feast to thank the natives for helping them. So now once a year on the anniversary of that, we celebrate by throwing a big feast with our friends and families and give thanks for the blessings of the previous year. We call it Settler’s Day!”

“That’s awesome! Hey, Sanji, let's have a Settler’s Day feast!” Luffy bellowed across the bar to his cook, who winced at the volume but pointedly ignored him.

“You should!” The man encouraged. “It’s great! If you head over to the inn across the street, Chester can give you all kinds of traditional recipes, and he can tell you the best places to get the food for it. Just tell him Darren sent you and he’ll fix ya right up.”

“Yahoo! I can’t wait!” Luffy ran off to pester Sanji into visiting the inn with him, seemingly unaware of Robin’s furrowed brow.

+++

“Damnit Luffy! If you want me to make you this giant feast so bad then you have to stay the hell out of my kitchen!” Sanji yelled, reinforcing his reprimand with a solid kick to the captain’s rubber behind.

Luffy bounced out of the galley and onto the deck of the Sunny with an unperturbed giggle, used to getting booted out of Sanji’s way (literally). He was too fired up about the Settler’s Day meal to be bothered by his ejection from the kitchen. In fact, pretty much everyone was getting excited about the celebration and had something they were looking forward to. Chopper was eager to try all the new types of desserts Sanji was whipping up, and Brook was inspired to compose new songs for the event. Nami was curious about some concoction the islanders had recommended called “orange jello salad,” and Franky had been promised that all the food options would go great with cola. Usopp had gone all out creating various decorations (mimicking what they’d seen on the island), and Zoro was just content with any excuse to drink an excessive amount of alcohol. The only crewmember who didn’t seem very interested in the proceedings was Robin. As her nakama bustled around getting things ready for the party, the archeologist simply watched, disapproval clear in her usually neutral expression.

“Okay, Robin,” Luffy finally said as he plopped down next to her. “You haven’t been excited about Settler’s Day at all since we decided to do it. What’s going on?”

The raven-haired intellectual studied Luffy quietly for a moment before responding. A part of her didn’t want to dampen the enthusiasm shining out of his features, but another part of her couldn’t just sit in silence while they carried on this tradition as it had been described to them.

“Captain, when you were restocking and preparing for this feast back on that island, I was doing some research.”

“Yeah?” the straw-hat wearer prompted. “And?”

“And … do you remember how that man said settling that island was a “bloody mess” for a while because the natives fought back? Well, I looked into that, and he was right. The people immigrating to the island took the land from people who had lived there for years and spread diseases that wiped them out. Not only that, but they captured healthy people and forced them to be slaves. Remember the native who helped make peace between the settlers and the tribe that shared that first feast? He was one of the last people in his tribe who was not wiped out by an epidemic brought by the settlers, and only spoke the language because he’d been abducted to be sold into slavery. Yes, there was a time of peace between the settlers and the natives, and there was a feast celebrating a successful harvest, but the real history behind this tradition is much less innocent than that man led you to believe. The descendants of the native people of that island don’t even celebrate Settler’s Day. In fact, some of them consider it a day of mourning.”

“Really?!” Luffy demanded. “That’s terrible! How can people celebrate something like that?”

“Well, some people don’t even know the true story behind it. They’ve just been taught the settlers’ version of what happened. Other people know, but figure that’s all in the past and that there’s no reason to stop the tradition now so many years later,” Robin explained solemnly.

“Man, what are we gonna do now? Everyone worked so hard for this Settler’s Day feast, and Sanji has already started making the food; he’s been cooking for hours already.” Luffy scratched his head and frowned.

The woman nodded. “I know, and … I don’t want to ruin the celebration for everyone, but … I can’t participate in something that memorializes the beginning of a terrible history of oppression.”

“Nah, me either. I just don’t want everyone to be disappointed.” The usually grinning boy’s face screwed up in concentration as he searched for a solution.

Robin hated seeing him so torn, almost as much as she hated that she was the cause of it. “Perhaps –“

“Wait! I’ve got an idea!” he interrupted, his smile back in full, brilliant force. “Forget stupid Settler’s Day! We’re gonna make our own holiday!”

“Our own holiday?” the archeologist inquired.

“Yeah! I just decided! If those bastards can make up a holiday we can too, right?”

“I suppose-“

“And anyway, we’re pirates! So even if they didn’t make one up, we still could because we do what we want. So we’re gonna still eat lots of delicious food and have cool decorations, except maybe not so many turkeys, cuz I still think that’s weird, and … and we’re still gonna be thankful for stuff! But today instead of being thankful in honor of some dumb dead guys, we’re gonna be thankful in honor of ourselves! And we can do it whenever we want! We don’t even have to just do it one time a year. We can do it today, and then do it again next week, if we want!”

A small smile crept onto Robin’s face as she listened to her impassioned friend’s idea. “I think Cook-san would have something to say about doing it again a week from now, but I do think your solution is a good one.”

“Alright! I’m gonna go tell everyone!” Luffy declared before running off, literally bouncing around the ship in his excitement to spread the word. “Usopp, stop makin’ those stupid turkeys! We’re doing something different!”

+++

Heavenly smells wafted up from the glorious spread arranged neatly on the dining hall’s giant table, and it was taking every ounce of self control Luffy possessed to stop himself from digging in right away. But before they could start into this magnificent feast, there was something he wanted to do.

“Okay, everybody, listen up! The stupid idiots back on that island used this day to celebrate their ancestors being assholes a hundred years ago. But that’s not what we’re celebrating today, cuz we’re pirates! So we’re stealing their day and making it about good stuff instead of their dumb stuff. Which means before we can eat this awesome feast, we gotta make it ours. And we’re gonna do that by all saying something we’re thankful for.”

“Anything?” Chopper asked, reluctantly dragging his gaze from the mountain of sweets toward the end of the table.

“Yup!” Luffy confirmed happily. “As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with stupid settlers.”

“Alright,” Zoro grunted after a moment of silence. “I’m thankful for booze.”

Sanji aimed a kick at the swordsman’s head, growling. “That’s bullshit, Marimo! Come up with something real or no feast for you.”

Zoro shot the cook an annoyed glare. “Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on, shit-cook,” he huffed. “I guess … aside from booze … I’m thankful for the crow’s nest, cuz I can train there and work toward my goal and still sail with all of you. Is that better, dartboard-brow?”

“Significantly,” Sanji affirmed, trying not to look impressed. He really hadn’t expected something that heartfelt from the other man. “I guess I’ll go next then. I’m thankful to travel with such gorgeous ladies as Nami-swan and Robin-chwan! And I’m glad to have found a group of people who don’t dismiss my dream of finding the All Blue.”

“I’m thankful for Robin!” Nami piped up. “For keeping me sane on this ship full of rowdy boys. And,” she added, “that we always have enough berries for what we need.”

Robin smiled gently and patted Nami’s hand. “I suppose I shall take my turn, then. I’m thankful to all of you, for saving me. And for helping me find the will to live again.”

“And I’m thankful to all of you for being my friends!” Chopper chimed.

“I’m grateful to have found a crew,” Brook announced. “It is so lovely to see friendly faces again, though, I do not have eyes. Yohoho!”

“I’m thankful for this SUPER chance to build and sail on the ship I always dreamed of!” Franky added.

“On a similar note,” Usopp stated thoughtfully, “I’d like to say I’m thankful for the Merry. She saw us through a lot, and she will never be forgotten.”

The crew nodded solemnly, all taking a moment of respect for the fallen ship. Then all eyes turned expectantly to Luffy, who stood up at the head of the table.

“I’m thankful,” he said slowly, “for you. For the things each of you brings to this crew that makes it the best crew in the entire world! I could list all the stuff you guys do and all the reasons why I’m happy to sail with you, but that would take a long time and we have delicious food to eat, so I’m just gonna say this: More than anything else, I’m thankful that you all chose to follow me, and that you’ve stayed with me. Thank you all for believing in my dream. Thank you for believing in me.”

Everyone stared for a moment, shocked at the intensity of Luffy’s gaze as he delivered his uncharacteristically serious speech, before all of them nodded in unison. Finally, Zoro broke the silence by raising his glass.

“To the captain,” he proclaimed.

“To the captain,” his crewmates replied, also raising their glasses in a toast.

“To nakama,” Luffy added.

“To nakama,” they echoed.

Looking at him in that moment, Robin was reminded once again why all of these people, all so independent and strong in their own right, chose to join this silly, impulsive boy, and she couldn’t help but smile softly as she sipped her drink. Luffy caught her eye and flashed his signature thousand-watt grin.

“Shishishi! Alright everybody, enough sappiness! Let’s eat!”

[sheepydraws]

I'll Kick Your Ass! I'll Kick My Fiancee's Ass! I'll Kick My Own Ass! (6/11)

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

Thanksgiving Break

FaceBook Messenger:

Shampoo: Ukyo!

Shampoo: Ukyo!!!!!!!

Shampoo: UKYO!!!!!!!

Ukyo: Hey. I just got home. What’s wrong?

Shampoo: EVERYTHING. Why didn’t you message me back?

Ukyo: I turned off my phone in the car. I wanted to talk to my dad. And I was reading him Good Omens.

Shampoo: Oh, isn’t that nice, you got to bond with your father and I gOT SEX TIPS FROM MY GRANDMA!

Ukyo: Explain.

Shampoo: You’re never gonna believe this shit.

Ukyo: Don’t have much of a choice.

Shampoo: Last month Mousse kept asking me when I was going to come home, and I said not till Thanksgiving break

Ukyo: You live like an hour away, tho

Shampoo: That is why I had to come up with a good excuse!!! I told him I had a boyfriend and I wanted to spend my weekends with him.

Shampoo: Mousse said, bullshit, so I told Ryoga to text him and tell him he couldn’t come over for Thanksgiving break so he would believe me.

Ukyo: Could you get to the point?

Shampoo: I am! So Mousse came to pick me up this afternoon, and we’re chit-chatting in the parking lot, and who should roll up?

Shampoo: RYOGA. WITH A PACKED BAG.

Shampoo: HE TOLD MOUSSE HE WAS GOING TO SPEND THE WEEK WITH US

Ukyo: That’s so nice of him!

Shampoo: HE’S SLEEPING IN MY ROOM, UKYO.

Ukyo: Uh…

Shampoo: We don’t have a guest room. I said he could sleep on the couch, but grandma was like, “What? He’s your friend and you’d have him sleep on the couch like a dog?” So I said, “Okay, I’ll sleep on the couch.” and grandma said, well, it sounds better in chinese, okay? Less blunt.

Shampoo: She said I’m in college now, so it’s cool, cause we must be…

Shampoo: AND MA JUST SAT THERE DRINKING COFFEE AND NOT MAKING EYE CONTACT.

Ukyo: What’s Ryoga doing?

Shampoo: He’s in the bathroom. He was really excited to take a shower without worrying someone is going to walk in on him. He mentioned it in the car.

Ukyo: I probably shouldn’t think that’s cute, but it is.

Shampoo: It is.

Shampoo: Not helping.

Ukyo: Shampoo. Hun. Honey.

Ukyo: Chill.

Ukyo: All I’m hearing is, ‘I get to hang out with my friend Ryoga over the break, and don’t have to worry about my ex hitting on me’.

Shampoo: But we’re going to share a bed. Have you ever shared a bed with a guy? Two words:

Shampoo: Morning. Wood.

Ukyo: He didn’t offer to sleep on the floor?

Shampoo: What floor? With my full size in here there is functional space only. It’s the bed or pressed up between the bookcase and the wall.

Ukyo: Just talk to him. Or sleep feet to head. Or with your heads in the middle. Or whatever. It’ll be fine. You are not going to slip, fall over, and accidentally have sex with Ryoga. I promise.

Ukyo: I have to go get dinner with my dad. You okay now?

Shampoo: I guess. We’ll talk soon?

Ukyo: Promise. <3

Last five posts from okinomiyakimeansiloveyou.tumblr.com

5. Dancing turkey gifset

4. Long post about native american culture, vis-a-vis Thanksgiving + charities to donate to.

3. A blurry photo of the tops of someone’s shoes, just under a shelf of canned cranberry sauce at what looks to be a grocery store

2. Shit, did that just post? Fuck. Why meeeeeeeeee

1. I don’t want to tell any of my friends about what happened because I told them to stop whining about Thanksgiving stuff, and I think I’m fine. He didn’t see me, and by the time my father found me he was gone.

Ranma’s Diary

I saw Ukyo yesterday. He looked pretty good for someone crouching behind a display of cranberry sauce.

I think he was hiding from me.

I thought that was kind of funny, because shouldn’t I be hiding from him? And his dad? Don’t they both want to kill me?

I haven’t thought about Ukyo in a while. I try not to. Well, I tried not to, and then I got really good at it, which I think they call forgetting.

I really liked Ukyo. They were cool. Really cool. Normal, too. Their house was always clean enough, and they had lots of different kinds of food all the time. Dad usually just eats whatever I’m supposed to be eating, so a lot of pork chops and hard boiled eggs and protein powder. Somedays I’d go over to Ukyo’s and there would be mexican leftovers, or tuna noodle casserole, or five different lunch meats, and I could eat anything I wanted.

Okay, the best thing about going out with Ukyo wasn’t the food, although the food was great. And it wasn’t the making out, or just lying on their bed and chilling, either.

And it wasn’t hanging out during lunch, or buying gifts for each other on christmas or

There were a lot of really great things about dating Ukyo.

I remember the first time I saw Akane, all I could think was: “He’s not Ukyo.” I was mad enough he was a guy (well, you know, I thought so at the time) but it just seemed so wrong that he wasn’t Ukyo. Like they should have found a male Ukyo or something and that’s who my dad should have been trying to marry me off to.

The Tendos have good food too. Lots and lots of rice. I think Kasumi likes rice cause it’s cheap, and it’s easy to make and she never seems to run out. I mean, she told me that, while she was cooking once. I was sitting on the floor while she wandered around the kitchen. She was making a big ole pot of curry, just a huge tureen of the stuff, and she was going back and forth from the stove to the counter checking the rice and the curry, and poking at something she made for dessert, cause I think she liked to make dessert when I came over. I mean, she told me that.

Kasumi reminds me of Ukyo a little. Not just because they’re both good cooks, but because they both make you feel really calm. Kasumi never seems to talk. You just sit next to her and you learn things. I’m sure she talks, she’s just so…soft. I don’t know. Like you know how when you know someone really well, and you hangout with them a lot, you stop noticing them? Like they’re a chair? I mean, in a good way. You don’t have that, ‘strange person’ alert going off in the back of your head all the time, you just feel totally relaxed like you would if you were alone.

That’s Kasumi.

Anyway, I was on the floor, watching her feet, and I think I had asked her what she thought about Akane and me, and she said,

“I think that mom and dad wanted to raise the perfect woman. Someone who has beautiful children and runs a successful business and marries into a good family that can help with the dojo. Between the three of us they’re going to get her.” that’s how I found out Akane was trans. I mean, I had this weird feeling, the way Nabiki joked about having two sisters, but they didn’t really sound like jokes? She would tease Akane about being feminine, but it seemed more like gushing. Like when one of your friends gets super obsessed with something and you call them a nerd because you’re crazy about that thing too. Like that.

Okay, so I’ve just written this long character study thing, but I don’t feel much better about seeing my old bae hiding from me in the supermarket with the ‘seasons greetings’ and ‘goodwill to all’ signs already up.

I think, the point I was trying to make, somewhere in here, was that I miss Ukyo, and I want to talk to them, but what am I going to say? I miss them because of what I did, and even if they feel the same, it’ll probably be just like finding out Akane is trans.

“Hey, we have this thing in common! Maybe we can use it to build a bridge over this huge chasm of anger and resentment between—nope, it all fell in.”

From: TexmexTesco@gmail.com

To: PrettyPorkChop@gmail.com

Hey Akari, not sure if it’s been a long time since we’ve talked, or it feels that way because I’m on break. I’ll be home soon though! It’s going to be great. A proper slushy christmas. The weather over here is a little strange. It’s just cold and bright. Not warm, but everything seems to glitter, even though there’s no snow yet.

It is very strange sharing a bed wi[deleted]

Thanksgiving is very interesting this year. I’m used to the tradition since this is usually when I would go visit mom, but it’s very different to go for a week and to actually live here and see how desperately everyone is using Thanksgiving to stave off christmas.

It’s also very interesting sharing a bed with a girl. I mean it’s not bad it’s just really really intimate and I never even did this with you and I’m waking up wrapped up in the way she smells and the warmth of her and [delete]

So far things have been pretty relaxing, here’s hoping that continues so I’m all rested up for finals. I’ve been studying very hard for my calc final because it’s my last one, and the sooner I finish it the sooner I’m on my way home,

Can’t wait to see you.

Ryoga.

The Tendo House

Kasumi’s recipes: Moussaka!

The video opens on the familiar view of Kasumi’s kitchen and an unfamiliar guest.

Kasumi: So, I don’t actually have the money, or the fridge space or literally anything that would make making an extra Thanksgiving dinner worth it.

Akane: I mean, you could have done it in August and—

Kasumi: (Throwing her arms around her sister in an effort to startle her. It works) So I’m here with my sister, Akane, and we’re going to make something that, while not a traditional Thanksgiving dish, is delicious, warm, and perfect for sharing.

Akane: And then Kasumi is going to start on the actual Thanksgiving stuff, and she’s going to post videos of her two best dishes so you have them for next year, or whenever.

Kasumi: (Releasing her sister) It’s going to be brisket, and a cranberry sauce recipe that you will actually want to eat. But for now (she claps her hands together) Moussaka!

Wide shots of fresh produce occur, as well as plenty of slicing and drizzling with oil. The moussaka comes together, layer by layer.

Abruptly Kasumi’s voice over and impersonal shots of her and Akane’s hands are replaced by another wide shot of the kitchen.

“Kasumi, I’m going to the store, do you—“ A boy appears on screen, roughly Akane’s age. There is a rather criminal amount of swagger in his walk for someone whose white gi pants are sticking out under a puffy, flourescent orange winter coat. He stops abruptly when he notices Akane.

Kasumi: (finishes layering zucchini in the huge black pot the moussaka is going into and walks past Akane to rinse her hands in the sink). I think I’ve got everything I need. Wait—Do we have pickles?

Akane: No, I finished them last night.

Kasumi: Pickles then. The sour, garlicky kind. Strips, not chips or squewers or whatever else they have. Strips. Here, I think I have a few dollars in my purse.

Boy: Oh, no, I’ll pay for it. What’s a couple of bucks between-(he fumbles and takes a different track) I mean, you’re doing thanksgiving for us. It’s the least I could do.

Kasumi: Speaking of feeding you, what kind of food do you like? I’ve got a good sewing video, and one about fixing pipes in the making, but after thanksgiving I’m going to be clean out of food video ideas.

Boy: (Clearly just wanting to get out of the kitchen) Christmas is coming up, right? What about cookies. A bunch a different cookies, in, like, gift baskets. That seems like your sort of thing.

Kasumi considers this for a minute, hands on her hips. She seems to evoke a certain gravity on this boy. He looks like he wants to leave, but a certain force is keeping him rooted to the spot.

Kasumi: (With a decisive nod) Then I’ll need more flour, sugar, butter…You know what, I’ll write up a list. Akane, are you okay going with him? He might need a little help with all that stuff.

Akane: (Looking very similar to the boy, in that she would love to say no, but finds it impossible in front of Kasumi). Okay. I’ll help.

And, in a voice over that follows a seamless transition back to Moussaka layering, Kasumi explains: And that is why Akane is not in the rest of this video, as well as a sneak peak at what I’ll be doing soon!

The three most important posts from timetoddddie.tumblr.com:

3. A post reblogged from fuckboisgetmoney: Ryoga’s battered face and the caption about possibly starting a guro blog. #not a guro blog exactly #documenting the strange goings on at a small college out in the sticks of the east coast #jk #it’s people dueling over a girl #what is my life

2. A photo of the top of Kuno’s head, from the time Nabiki stayed with him at health services for a minute. It’s the crown of his head, a splotchy bruise extending from the top of his forehead to his perfectly tousled side part, looking almost like a miscolored extension of the latter. #can you believe he’s our kendo team’s star player? #school spirit #fuck you nsj

1. A picture of the head of the girl’s gymnastic’s team with a spread of bruises over her torso, the vibrant colors broken up by a grey sports bra for modesty’s sake. Nabiki payed for this photo with a bag of jelly beans and five RedBull. She wanted to see how the purple and green flesh played with the rock hard muscles of the girl’s core, and she wasn’t disappointed. #my sister totally isn’t worth this #i love the girl #but doesn’t this look painful? #glad all I gotta do to get a guy is put on some sheer tights

Not Anal

At least he waited till black Friday. At least he had the decency.

Look, sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night and you realize you left your bra on because you fell asleep while watching movies with your friend in a post feast stupor. (We always eat late cause the restaurant is usually open. Thanksgiving has never been a big deal at our house because Grandma is in charge around here and she never cared, so she doesn’t really expect us to, but ever since I was about nine and could ask for it we would eat a nice meal on Thanksgiving. Grandma kind of likes an excuse for a big meal, so she lets it happen).

So, anyway, like I was saying, I woke up in the middle of the night and I was half asleep and too clumsy to get at my bra without taking my shirt off. Once underwire was no longer digging into my ribs I rolled over and fell back asleep.

Which, and I swear on my grandmother’s soon to be dug grave, is why I was topless when Mousse decided to come barging into my room and announce that he was going to fight Ryoga for me.

So I’m sitting there trying to cover my chest and screaming at him to get out, and he’s screaming right back that this has nothing to do with me and that he just wants Ryoga, which of course sends mom and Grandma running, because now he’s woken them up, and then I really started howling at everyone to GET OUT and I think grandma implied that it looked like Ryoga and I had been having sex in my room, which is such bullshit, because she never said anything when Mousse and I had been fucking in there, but once Ryoga and I are being total slobs and leaving our clothes and junk food everywhere, then we MUST be having sex, so then I was screaming at her about that—

That is when Ryoga decided to slowly, slowly, sllooooowwlly wake up. I’m serious, his eyelids fluttered, and he stretched his arms over his head, and he propped himself up on an elbow and cracked his jaw, and then, and only then, did he say,

“What the fuck is going on?”

At which point I wacked him with a pillow because everyone else in the room had already seen my breasts and I was more pissed than modest.

“You’re fighting Mousse in the alley behind the restaurant in ten minutes.” I told him, and that seemed to satisfy Mousse, because he nodded and left. Mom and grandma went with him, chatting about who should referee. They seemed to think this was going to be like the little sparring matches Mousse and I used to have when we were still doing martial arts, and not a knock-down, drag-out kind of fight.

“Why am I going to fight Mousse?” Ryoga asked once they were gone.

“For the grand privilege of fucking me, of course.” I said, getting out of bed to figure out where I had thrown my bra.

“But, uh, we…”

“Yeah, I know.”

That is when I got this really awful idea. I swear, my face should have done that grinch thing where his whole face curls in on itself.

I turned around, kicked off my sweatpants-said a little prayer of thanks that I had run out of comfortable undies and was wearing a pink thong- and got back on to the bed so I could start crawling toward Ryoga, basically everything I have on display.

“Maybe I’ll do it, too, if you beat the shit out of Mousse.”

Ryoga’s eyes were enormous. Almost bigger than his head.

“I-I have—you know that I—“

Have you ever tried to crawl sexily? Not easy, but by the time I was close enough to Ryoga to put my hand on his thigh it didn’t matter.

“I know you have a girlfriend, and you’re trying to reel in, like, five more,”

“Just Akane. I mean, Akari. I mean, I’m going to tell Akari to her face.”

By then we were face to face, maybe an inch apart, my breasts just brushing his t-shirt, and I said, “That’s the best part. I already know all that, so I’m not going to get sloppy and tell them, and you aren’t going to have to worry about me expecting you to marry me like my grandmother might.”

There wasn’t an inch between us. I couldn’t even look in his eyes anymore, that’s how close we were. I could feel his breath on my lips, and I could feel that he was hesitating, but I didn’t know if that meant he was holding himself back or if he was trying to force himself to do something.

That was when he threw his arms around me and crushed me against him. Ryoga Hibiki kisses like he’s never going to get the chance again. Like he’s been out in the woods for weeks on end and he’s so desperate for human contact that he’ll wring it out of you.

And this after sharing a bed with me for almost a week. I wonder what his girlfriend is going to get at the airport.

I’m pretty sure that’s the thought that woke me up enough to punch him in the chest(there just wasn’t space for me to do anything else. I couldn’t get his lips off mine to say something) knocking him back enough that I could say, “You should put some shoes on. That alley is all gravel.”

That killed the mood.

So I’m standing out in the back alley, my mother doing a little count down, my lips still tingling—I mean, jesus. No wonder this girl was willing to do long distance. Jesus.— and I know that there is no way Ryoga can take Mousse. Maybe in a kissing contest, but Mousse has years of martial arts training. Ryoga has mass. You can do that math.

Except Ryoga, while he might be big and muscley, has that charming british accent so you know he’s not an idiot. He stayed defensive, which was good. I probably should have told him that Mousse is a cheat, rather than that thing about the gravel.

Okay, Mousse doesn’t exactly cheat, but he’s underhanded. He likes to strike lots of little blows and wear you down, rather than straight up beating the shit out of you.

He does that after you’re worn down.

So Ryoga is staying defensive, feinting here and there, but he’s not giving Mousse enough room to make the little blows he likes. So Mousse starts hitting Ryoga when his guard is up. Hits that glance off his forearms, but hits all the same. Trying to rile Ryoga up, I don’t know.

Mousse went in for another quick punch, and Ryoga rammed him. Arms up, he absorbed Mousse’s blow and ran forward, sending Mousse skidding on the gravel, and slammed him into the back wall of the restaurant.

You know, I didn’t actually see the knife. Just the movement of Mousse’s hands. I didn’t need to see the knife. I knew it was the nice one with the pearl handle. Christ, I saw it when mum was doing the count down, but I didn’t think for a second he would take it out.

But there it was. I knew that movement. I had watched Mousse practice it over and over with his first switch blade, a small black one he found in the tool box under the kitchen sink, until her could whip it out in a second, with a motion like flicking dust away.

But I didn’t actually see the blade flash. I didn’t feel Ryoga’s collar in my hand, but that’s the only thing I could have grabbed to send him flying backwards.

All I felt was the impact of the punch I landed on Mousse’s nose. The crunch of cartilage. His glasses broke, cutting both of us.

I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

Akane’s Diary

I didn’t realize Ranma used to date. I mean, like he actually had a significant other, not just messing around at parties like me.

I was sort of waiting for something to happen that I would want to write about more than this, but so far things have been pretty calm and it’s between writing about this and considering a personal ad in the school newsletter asking for a dude who dressed up as batman for halloween and met a girl dressed as Zelda. This is the healthier option. I’ve got to forget about that stuff.

Okay, so, two days before thanksgivng Kasumi has me doing a video with her. Actually, I asked if I could be in one. Never mind. We’re making moussaka.

Suddenly Ranma shows up wanting to know if Kasumi wants anything from the store. Long story short, I wind up in the car with him. It was a nice car. Not the luxury kind people who actually know things about cars whistle over, but the seats were comfy and the heater was good.

I said that to him. Since the silence was kind of awkward. Which maybe made him think I wanted to have a conversation, even though all I wanted was to stop feeling like we really should be trying to have a conversation.

“Was that apron your mother’s?” He asked, “The one Kasumi was wearing.”

It took me a minute to remember that the apron Kasumi was wearing had ‘Tomoko’ embroidered over the heart.

“Yes. Kasumi made it as a gift.”

“I see.”

The silence resumed, and felt even worse because I could feel the topic of mom looming before us.

Have you ever been in a situation so awkward you said something that would normally plunge you into an awkward situation, but you’re so strung out on having absolutely nothing to say that you sort of hope this will circle things back to a normal conversation? Of course not. Because you’re normal.

But me, I say to him, “So where is your mom, anyway? Your parents divorced?”

He doesn’t answer, and I think it’s too personal a question until he finally says, “Huh. I guess I have a mom…”

I burst out laughing. “What kind of answer is that?”

He shrugged, but he was smiling a little. “I don’t know. I’d believe dad had me himself if he could. I never had a mom, and he never talked about her.”

“Why?”

“What did I just say?” Ranma said, but he said it in a nice way, like we were sharing a joke.

And thus, thanks to Ranma’s non-existent, though theoretically probable mother, the awkwardness lifted for a minute, and we managed to talk about school, and food we like, and other normal things, until we were walking through the pickle aisle, and he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me in another direction.

“Don’t look,” He whispered, “My ex is behind the cranberry sauce.”

What else was I going to do? I looked. Ranma Saotome isn’t the boss of me. And I really wanted to know what a person who not only put up with him but made out with him looked like.

Their gender was kind of indeterminate, and I couldn’t get a great look at them except to say that they had long hair and were wearing a really cute sweater.

“I told you not to look!” Ranma dragged me clear over to the milk, this weird back corner where it’s a little quieter than the rest of the store.

“Let’s just stay here.” He said, like that was a great plan.

“Ranma, we came here for groceries, not to play chicken with someone you used to date.”

“You don’t understand. Ukyo hates me.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, then did it anyway. “Gee, what a surprise. Another person who hates you.”

“Hey, Ukyo used to like me.” For a split second I thought Ranma was going to show a serious emotion, forlorn, maybe, or longing, but instead he got angry, “And they still would if it wasn’t for you. I don’t want them seeing you.”

“Don’t you dare make this my fault.” I hissed at him.

Wait, I think he did manage a serious emotion: panic.“I didn’t mean it like that, I mean they might blame you, and—”

“Sure. I’ll be by the register whenever you think it’s safe to come out.” I marched off with my little basket swinging, thinking that I wouldn’t mind never seeing Ranma again.

But, since I knew that wasn’t going to happen, I wonder if I should have found Ukyo and asked them what they saw in Ranma. They dated for a long time, I think, so there must have been something they liked about him. Maybe I should have asked them what it was, instead of standing there in front of the checkout aisle, getting madder and madder until Ranma finally showed up with the car keys, outstretched a little sheepishly, like he knew he was being an idiot, but was really hoping i wasn’t going to say anything about it.

I didn’t say anything at all.

[theconservativebrief]

Dr. Ashkan Ghavami is a board-certified plastic surgeon who has performed procedures on celebrities like Iggy Azalea, Amber Rose, Blac Chyna, and Tori Spelling. He is also one of the most followed plastic surgeons on Instagram, where he shares videos that are variously graphic, educational, and sexy with his 347,000 followers. In September, Ghavami published a paper in the journal Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery discussing the ethics of using social media to document procedures and their outcomes.

I called him up to chat about butts, fake followers, and the changing attitudes about social media in the medical profession. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

What was it like for plastic surgeons when you got on Instagram in 2012? What were your colleagues’ reactions?

I started off by just posting some personal stuff, like most people do. Then I started putting some before-and-afters and bringing my business into it. Nobody else was on Instagram, as far as I remember, not even [now-Instagram-famous surgeon] Dr. Miami. I just knew that it was gonna be an original medium. What we do is all visual. It’s not like we’re fixing blood pressure; with plastic surgery, it’s in front of your eyes and it either looks good or it doesn’t. There’s nothing better than a visual marketing tool like that.

But at that time, nobody even knew enough about it to form an opinion. Some of the higher-ups — you know, the gray-haired, older surgeons — they were kind of jokingly criticizing it. Within a year or two, they were asking me, “How do you do it?” I have surgeons that are close to retirement that are just starting their Instagram pages now.

What kind of official guidelines exist regarding the use of social media and surgery?

You cannot post anything that a patient has not given you permission for. That’s number one; that goes without saying. You have to be careful about things like a patient chart in the background, because someone can take a screenshot and zoom in on a name. But then, as number two, the focus should always be on patient care, safety, and education — and that’s where the gray zone starts. The point is of having an Instagram page is to educate people, but when it comes to medicine and surgery, we have to work hard to keep their interest. Some of my most educational posts have the least views because the cover photo isn’t some girl’s butt.

So now if I have an important message — if I went to a meeting, or if I was doing an academy talk — I’ll insert a picture of a butt that I worked on as the cover photo. Then at least people will click to see what it is.

So it’s really about finding the right balance between entertainment, education, and advertising?

Yeah. I sometimes use the example of an airline safety video. There’s nothing more serious than death from an airplane crash, but to get the passengers’ attention, the airlines have to use entertainment, dancing videos, rap, cartoons, etc. We have to be entertaining to get our message across, but some doctors can really take this out of whack. Like that one surgeon who wore sunglasses and took a good five to 10 minutes to choreograph a video with someone asleep under anesthesia. She wasn’t even a plastic surgeon; she was just a dermatologist. Those kinds of things are going happen.

What other kinds of unethical behaviors have you seen from surgeons on social media?

There are a lot of ethical problems when it comes to portraying honest descriptions of work. Some surgeons are photoshopping their before-and-afters, or using Facetune, or showing the same patients over and over. It’s horrendous what’s going on. I try to give a complete and accurate picture by showing a lot of pre-op and post-op videos. After three months, six months, one year, how does it look? I guess, in a way, it’s considered promotion or advertising, but really it’s just about people seeing the consistency and quality of my work.

Are you finding that, over time, more patients actually want to be featured on your account?

Yes, it’s very interesting. Iggy Azalea was one of the first big celebs I had that was actually open about surgery. She admitted on Ellen and in Vogue that she had her nose and breasts done, and then she invited me over to her house for Thanksgiving and sang to me on social media. I didn’t even ask her to do it. She just wished me a happy birthday and said, “Thank for my new nose and breasts!” Sometimes now people will just tag me in their photos because they’re so happy and proud [of their surgical outcomes]. It’s like how people tag Gucci because they’re loving how their shoes look.

But with most celebs, there’s still a stigma around plastic surgery.

There’s still a stigma, especially with people in the entertainment industry. They want to keep people guessing. I actually trademarked that: “Keep Them Guessing.” If I was a celebrity, I’d wanna keep ’em guessing too. It keeps you more relevant if people are like, “Wait, is her butt real? Is it fake? What’s going on?” Once they know 100 percent for sure, the discussion is over; there’s nothing else for them to talk about. So it’s good to keep a mystery. But obviously, if you have a huge nose, and then all of a sudden it’s this cute nose, you can’t keep ’em guessing too much with that.

Social media celebs are a little more open to posting about their surgeries, but I kind of consider myself to be the bastard child of Instagram. There are so many celebrities I’ve worked on and not a single one follows me. They’re not hitting the like or follow button because they don’t want their friends and family to see that they’re liking plastic surgery content. Right now, I have close to 360,000 followers, but I’d bet it’s closer to a million if you count the people that regularly go to my page but don’t follow.

I don’t blame them for not wanting to admit they know me. That’s why I started a separate non-surgical page, where I’m letting people know I do lip fillers, Botox, and facials. With that side of my practice, [mainstream] celebs are a little more open to posting about their procedures.

Is there anything else you think people should know about plastic surgeons and Instagram?

They just need to be careful, because anybody can try to have a cool, sexy Instagram page. Research the surgeon independent of Instagram. Make sure that they’re board-certified by the proper board, and that they’ve been around for a little while. There are doctors who have been out of residency training for only two years, and they pay to get 200,000 followers so they can look bigger and more experienced than they are. It’s dangerous, and it makes it much for harder for the consumer to figure out who’s legit and who’s faking it.

Medicine is still a sacred thing, but surgeons and doctors are human too. Just because they went to med school and took an oath doesn’t mean they’re a good human being. I see it as a privilege for someone to put their body in my hands to alter. Nothing in art is more sacred than the medium of the human body. I love what I do more than I love money. If that ever changes, I’m gonna retire and do something else.

Original Source -> Fake butts, fake followers: an Instagram-famous plastic surgeon talks medical ethics

via The Conservative Brief