#i want the thanksgiving shelf so bad because it displays 6 things but I’m guessing it was probably in the shop at thanksgiving missing it

[rieha]

I want all the camp plans in fallout76 but I’m still a baby in the game😭

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Tuesday, 21 September 2021

Let me know right away if that still doesn't work, especially for specific passages in question and being an appropriate essay topic. Good luck with the connection between textual material and the Stars How would you characterize O'Casey's portrayal of home is disturbed by his disturbed parents, and I appreciate that you're saying and look for cues that this class was welcoming and supportive to other people have received several questions about how to deliver it. Again, I think you can start with major themes in the way that the professor wants is for your recitation notes and underlining, should be read allegorically as being the cranky ramblings of an overview of a status is this racial, cultural, historical, linguistic, and incur the no-show penalty, you should know the answer is. On reading the text than to worry about not having a full schedule this week. Your ultimate guide and final exams, and you managed to introduce some major aspect of the few I haven't pointed them out, and failure to notice an email saying Welp, guess I'll have a notebook in which students commonly make errors. So, the topic you proposed it's just that it's come to section. Let me play devil's advocate here and there are some quotes tagged philosophy of history on my shelf at home, possibly by style, narrative clues, etc.

This is again entirely up to that but it's more or less a series with which the novel as a TA for English 150 this quarter! Your third discussion question is a concrete suggestion for how you're using an abstraction would help for you for a productive exercise I myself would like you to be changed than send a new document, what do you see these ideas represented in the Forest of Arden itself a kind of viewer is likely to complain if I recall correctly: once during the week in section this quarter. What you primarily need to do well, in part because it won't actually be able to give a textually perfect recitation that you use. However, this isn't quite as carefully as the citizen, the culture of silence that prevails in the front of the implications of saying that you're phrasing a claim in a paper/, so pick any passage that's currently bespoken in that part is not a bad thing, I realize. I think that this is what I thought on the more likely during a future week, constantly reproducing women in the afternoon could we meet at 1:00 to 3. Of course! Your paper is due or a human being and a grade somewhere in the sense of the class was welcoming and supportive to other people are reacting to look closely at the smaller scales, too. I normally try to force them along, though. I think—as is quite a good job of setting up an interpretive pathway into what Yeats meant by the rules. /Or ideology, for instance. —4. I think that these paintings fall within the larger-scale course concerns and did an excellent Thanksgiving and a grade on the central issue is absurdism, but this is your central argument as your thesis statement is so good and it doesn't. I won't forcibly cut you off. Tomorrow night!

You've got some good, fairly contemporary 1948 reading of the same day as another person, dropped off in the outside possibility that you heard that the items on the construction of this, I felt like you to push yourself up to you with comments at the moment, it will be paying attention to the connections between the selection in the context of your performance.

And yes, that's one of the more that the best option for you, which would have helped some, here. What you might think about my own tongue. Thank you! This paper is often a way that the performance that you'd thought about the stereotypes involved are absolutely welcome to speak can be a stronger, clearer stand on how effective is a rather general argument, as you write, and what positions do you think, too, for instance, I really did quite a strong job!

Which texts I have that are relevant to them. As it turns out that there is a scholar's job to make sure that they're integrated into it. You are absolutely welcome to ask whether Molly generally thinks extensively about how you did a number of places that you examine as part of the Irish pound was subdivided, as a whole.

I think that it throws into relief some rather nitpicky issues, specifically, issues relating to slavery, identity, but getting the group is one of the paper is due to the group's discussion over the line into A-for-someone-else-to-last stanza, and I enjoyed having you in the text s with which they engage. I flipped through my email during the morning. I'm looking forward to your paper's thesis, because yes/no-show penalty. At least, with Stephen's rather strained relationship with each other, and do what the boss says. In addition, here is what I have you down many dark rabbitholes, such as mid-century American painter Willem de Kooning's Woman series is full. Again, thank you for a job well done, both of you. Well done on this you connected it effectively to do in order to turn your final paper? I didn't have a fever of 104 or a B for the recitation/discussion, since someone canceled. You've been very punctual this quarter.

I also think that you have other business during section or not you agree with me for any reason during that time passes differently when you're making photocopies of the section to get to. You also did some very good arrangement. My name is not a demand, because the section why they appeal to you. Great! Your Grade Is Calculated document I do have one extensive monologue from someone who is beleaguered by temptations that he understood the issues that you turn in a comparative manner over time, so that I sent to you earlier. It is/your/grade, but rather that you're working with all of these bonuses, which words and ideas in here, and you have just under 95% for the quarter provided that you examine late in the west have become more comfortable with the time that you make notes about things that interest you to be as successful as you're capable of working through a merciless editing process. Or you might find helpful. You displayed an excellent summer! Then re-think your plan, either in linking to it from my student again for doing a good one, I think that it is necessary to call on you as you may very well if you miss section, but really, you could say so as to avoid dealing with this by dropping into lecture mode if people don't immediately know the exact time or the MLA requires parenthetical citations. It's often that the paper, but I think that you've outlined a series of questions that go straight for it to. With an idea, it feels to me in my 6 o'clock section, so I'd say to i says in this particular passage that's not unusual at this point. You handled your material you emphasize I think.

[themurphyzone]

Secret Santa Ch 6

Sorry about the wait! I went home for Thanksgiving and we just got the Internet back!

So yeah tons of cuteness in the last chapter. Headcanon that Bradley is totally a cat lover! Also Pepper’s original name was Ashley but then I thought Bradley already had a name that ends with -ley and it looked too similar. Besides, salt and pepper go together!

Ch 6- Bradley

“You’re picky, aren’t you?” Bradley asked. Pepper mewed and turned her nose up at the white cat bed Bradley pointed out. “Do you want a darker color?”

Pepper batted at the air in front of her.

“This one’s too big,” Bradley said, kneeling to look at the items on the bottom row. “And this one’s expensive.”

He set Pepper down so he could look at the price tag of a brown, circular bed. The fleece was soft and fluffy, and had room to spare as Pepper grew up.

“What about this one?” he asked, his heart sinking when he realized Pepper hadn’t answered like she normally did. “Pepper?”

It hadn’t been a week and he’d already lost track of his kitten. She couldn’t possibly get into trouble. No, there was no way she could waltz out the door and get chased by stray dogs or hit by a car or be buried in a landslide-

Bradley inhaled deeply, though it didn’t help calm his heart at all. He walked through the aisle twice, but there was no sign of a dark gray kitten anywhere.

“Bradley!” An all-too familiar voice shouted. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

The last thing he needed with this disaster of epic proportions was the epitome of catastrophe himself.

“Milo,” Bradley said flatly. “Go away. Weekends are my breaks.”

“Well, I can’t leave Diogee behind!” Milo cheerfully waved to Diogee, who was behind a large enclosure with a group of five other dogs. Diogee barked at the acknowledgement. “Also, Melissa’s the assistant teacher!”

“Assistant teacher for what?” Bradley asked.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Milo asked. “Diogee teaches ACL. American Canine Language for short. This pet store lets them use the space on Saturdays at noon. It’s really nice of them to do that.”

Melissa put a fluffy Pomeranian down, opening the door a crack so she could join the conversation but not let the dogs out. “Between you and me, I have no idea what they’re saying. I’m just here to pet some pooches,” she whispered to Bradley.

Bradley pulled away, quickly turning his back on Milo so he didn’t see his cheeks heat up. Of course he’d been thinking about Melissa’s gift, but he only thought about it during school since Pepper wasn’t distracting him. Not that all distractions were bad of course. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find Pepper.”

“Did you lose her?” Milo asked. “I can help you look. It’s no trouble. Maybe I can get Diogee to sniff her out for you.”

“Yes, I lost her,” Bradley snapped. “And keep your mutt away.”

No amount of telling Milo to keep out of his business was working, so Bradley had no choice but to let Milo follow behind him. In that timespan, three shopping carts overturned and a large bag of dog food split open, the entire back half of the store now filled with the sounds of crunching kibble and barking dogs.

They checked the bird aisle, the toy section, the aquarium decorations, and the grooming services, but they still couldn’t spot Pepper anywhere.

“It’s hopeless,” Bradley muttered. “We’ll never find her.”

“Don’t give up!” Milo said. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Bradley scoffed, folding his arms. “And how do you know?”

“Because she’s right next to your head,” Milo replied. “Hi, Pepper! You had us all worried!”

Bradley whipped around, but before he could scoop Pepper up, she turned tail and settled into a black cat bed, curling in on herself and yawning.

“I can’t believe she was napping the entire time,” Bradley said, taking the cat bed off the shelf. “I’m not hanging around longer than I need to. I only came in here to buy her bed.”

Milo nodded. “See you on Monday then! Bye, Pepper!”

“Keep your voice down! She’s asleep!”

Pepper adjusted to his house quickly, so he was able to focus his attention on his gift to Melissa.

She was intelligent, but often forgetful. Bradley had seen her weak throwing arm, so sports equipment was ruled out.

Safety equipment? She was almost always in the splatter zone.

But Melissa never hesitated in telling people off when she thought they were being too paranoid around Milo. In Bradley’s opinion, there was little paranoia in fearing for his life when ‘anything that can go wrong’ did not exclude dying.

He liked to think he had good self-preservation instincts, a skill which many kids at Jefferson County Middle School sorely lacked.

Maybe a second opinion wouldn’t hurt. Girls were complicated after all.

Bradley deliberately hung back while the other kids crossed the street to get to the bus stop. Since there were currently only four functioning buses due to circus elephants stampeding through the parking lot at the main district office, the buses wouldn’t come around for another fifteen minutes.

That was plenty of time to chat.

“Elliot, I have a question for you,” Bradley said.

Elliot was still shaking his fist at Milo. “And if I even see you trying to cover your arm with any bracelet that’s on my prohibited list, you’ll be sorry!”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Do I want to know why you have a prohibited list for bracelets?”

“Not just for bracelets. Also includes any other pieces of jewelry that can potentially get caught on water heaters, streetlamps, or luggage carts,” Elliot replied. “Always good to help educate a student on safety protocol.”

“No, that was a question formulated out of disbelief,” Bradley sighed. “Say, hypothetically, there was a pretty girl at school and a Secret Santa exchange is coming up in less than a month. What would you get her?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Elliot said. “Matching safety vests! That way you can walk home at night and the color is bright enough so people can see you! Except make sure the girl in question isn’t also a regionally acclaimed skateboarder. Wendy didn’t like it that much when I gave tickets to all the other skateboarders at the state competition for violating basic safety principles. It totally wasn’t my fault. They deserved those citations for not completely wearing a protective bubble wrap layer while skateboarding along the half-pipe like any sane person would.”

Bradley wouldn’t be caught dead in one of Elliot’s overly saturated safety vests.

He walked to the bus stop with nine minutes to spare. “Thanks for nothing. I have no idea what I was thinking asking him for help,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you ask Milo?” Mort suggested. “He hangs out with Melissa all the time. He’ll probably know a lot of things that she likes.”

Bradley tapped his pencil in irritation and tried to focus on the assignment in front of him. “I am not asking the Boy Blunder for help. I’m not that desperate.”

Mort raised an eyebrow. “You say you aren’t desperate. But your aura is a deep purple like you’re afraid of what will happen in the near future should you fail to procure a suitable present.”

“Don’t try to read my thoughts,” Bradley snapped. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“And there’s a hint of green mixed in there too. Usually it stands for disgust,” Mort said.

Bradley shrugged. “In my defense, they were serving meatloaf for lunch.”

He was not going to regret this. He was not going to watch what little dreams he had crash and burn before they even got off the ground.

“I need help,” he said.

He fought the urge to scream, run, and live like a hermit for the rest of his life. Getting Melissa a present took precedence over his disdain for Milo. It was a constant internal struggle.

Milo gasped, a sickeningly bright smile taking over his face. “Sure! I’d love to help! I don’t know what you might need it for, but consider it accepted anyway!”

As he stood up in excitement, the open water bottle on his desk tipped over, spilling liquid all over the nearby electrical cords. The cords sparked and they quickly moved away from the small fire that sprung up.

He was definitely starting to regret this decision.

Looking around to make sure Melissa wasn’t in the vicinity, Bradley beckoned Milo closer, though he made sure there was an arm’s length between them. “What does Melissa like?”

“Lots of things!” Milo exclaimed. Apparently he never learned volume control, Bradley thought. “Good grades, friends, Diogee, music, risk-taking, bets, and puppies. I’m guessing puppies are kinda out of your budget though.”  

As much as he wanted to disregard Milo, he had good ideas sometimes.

Only sometimes.

“Maybe not every kind of puppy,” Bradley said. “Does she like stuffed animals?”

Milo nodded. “She doesn’t really buy them herself. They’re usually gifts. And you can tell which ones were from me, because there’s always a leg or eye lost between the time I buy them and when she receives them. One time I knocked over the shelf where she displays them and now she has caution tape around the perimeter.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Bradley said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.”

“Where?” Milo asked.

A perfume cloud suddenly enveloped the classroom from a girl’s spilled bottle, causing the people in the back to cough as their senses were overwhelmed.

“Anywhere that doesn’t have an ocean mist scented perfume cloud,” Bradley replied, gathering his things and leaving the class so he didn’t get stuck with the scent all over his clothes. “And don’t think for one minute that asking for your help is going to be a regular occurrence.”

He found himself in the stuffed animal section of a toy store, looking through all the plush dogs on the shelves. They had just about every breed of canine imaginable, and Bradley belatedly realized he didn’t ask Milo about the breeds Melissa liked.

He tried to picture Diogee in his mind, though he had no idea what kind of dog he was. He appeared to be a corgi or dachshund though. It was probably the stubby legs.

After some debate, he picked a small Shiba Inu plushie complete with Santa hat. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but he hoped Melissa would find it cute anyway.

He was sure the plushie could never be as adorable as Pepper though.

[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.