#incurable and rare

[mental-health-advice]

I wish my father was dead. All he does is yell and scream and I don't have the money to move out even with my job because I'm a full time student who works part time and most of the money I make goes toward medical bills. He has verbally abused me ever since I was 2. I am terrified of him. It's worse because he's a cop and thinks he does nothing wrong. I try to tell him how I feel and he just yells more. He has an incurable and rare brain disorder that causes him pain but I dont care. I'm glad he's in pain because he deserves it. I wish the disease would just kill him. He hates that I'm queer and I so far up trump's ass you wouldn't believe it. I'm a transplant patient and he cares more about him comfort than my health. I hate being at home because he's retired now so he's always home ready to yell at me no matter how hard I try to please him. I wish he'd fucking die.

Hey there,

This sounds like a really difficult to be in.

You mentioned that your father has an incurable and rare brain disorder that causes him pain, I am not sure what he has been diagnosed with and nor am I a doctor, but is it possible that part of his brain disorder is him not having full control over his temper? Even if this is the case though, I know that this doesn’t change anything in regards to you feeling terrified of him, but if this is the case (in regards to his brain disorder) then it may help you to put into perspective that he doesn’t really mean what he is saying? Just a thought!

Being a transplant patient and having to live with an abusive father for whatever reason is never easy and especially as you cannot move out due to most of your finances going towards medical bills. But do you have any close friends you could possibly sleep over at or another family member when your father is being particular abusive (more so than he often is) so that you can have some respite from him? Having a break may be really helpful and will also enable you to look after yourself a bit as well and recharge your batteries.

Although I know personally how easy it is to wish for another person’s death, there are more practical things that you can be doing with your time, for example one idea may be to find some things you can do after work and when you are not busy studying to help keep you out of the house for a bit longer – like joining some kind of group perhaps.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[liccalavender]

I should definitely advocate for a new mainline Ace Attorney game where Phoenix Wright isn't playable from a storytelling standpoint...

But I'm not. I'm arguing from a fan standpoint. I want Phoenix Wright as the protagonist forever. I never want anyone else.

"But we need to give other characters spotlight!" No we don't

"He's playable in enough games" No He's not

"But what about Apollo/Athena" Do not care

I'm joking (mostly. Not at all, actually. Kinda. You, the viewer, should decide)

[homosekularnost]

system collapse

[vamptastic]

have pain radiating from all the joints in my arms for some reason. vaguely concerning. i'll blame it on the fast

[1roentgen]

.

[not-poignant]

Under the stain is so good and so well written! Huge fan. I was wondering what’s the schedule for updates since you mention that the next chapter is already ready but I’ve had to wait for weeks for it to drop. Please drop it earlier if you can :((

Hi anon,

I already drop chapters of A Stain that Won't Dissolve earlier than I used to, because it used to be a chapter every 3 weeks, and now it's a chapter every 2. I can't go any faster, because I am literally working on eight different stories right now, and you know, I need money to eat food, and live, and pay my medical bills, and Stain doesn't do any of that, so my other writing has to come first.

I'm doing the best I can, anon.

You can always check out my writing schedule here. Generally A Stain that Won't Dissolve goes up every second Sunday. You are not the only one who is having to wait two weeks for it to arrive, everyone is, and I'm glad you're enjoying it, just...please know I'm also a real person who is working really hard all the time on my writing and Stain can't come first, unless you're willing to come here and pay me a living wage? Then we can work something out ;)

[gothsuguru]

oh as a bonus, i feel like depressed toxic! suguru isn't the type of person who would actively seek to cheat on his partner, but if someone flirted with him, he wouldn't put a stop to it and let things escalate.

He would be the type of person who uses his depression as an excuse to hurt others and not take responsibility for his actions and when you decide to confront him he just gets defensive and plays the victim, like this: -I didn't want this to happen! I'm tired of everything and you only make everything worse with your complaints and insecurities!

i don’t think he’d use his depression but i do think he’d use a lot of gaslighting/manipulation even if it’s unintentional like i genuinely think suguru is just sooooo delusional sometimes 😭😭😭 he ends up believing his own words as he speaks and convinces himself that he’s right (when deep down he knows he’s wrong) BUT ALSO i heavily agree that he’d be like “i didn’t mean for it to happen…” “i’m just so tired… it doesn’t help that you always cling to me and ask me what’s wrong all the time y’know?” -> said w sad face like omfg don’t make me punch you in your mouth rn 😹 him using reader being Genuinely Kind and twisting it into something ugly… whew i hate this man rn omg i love it

in this scenario i agree w you! i think he wouldn’t actively make the first move to cheat but he WOULD entertain someone else and things would escalate (and it would be delicious of him wallowing in guilt afterwards… maybe he’s in bed w the person and while they’re asleep he lights up a cigarette with a very shaky hand and is almost numb… i think he wishes that the bed would swallow him whole bc he can’t undo what he just did, and he just feels utterly disgusting all over his body…)

AND THIS IS ANOTHER REASON WHY I NEED MORE FIRECRACKER!READERS 🗣️🗣️🗣️ don’t let him speak to you like that @ reader!!!!! destroy his life and his self-confidence & make him regret ever being alive my queen <333 can you tell i love it when ppl get their comeuppance like omfg KARMA bitch!!!!!!

[absensia-archived]

the more I think about it, the more I'm not so sure that Charlotte sees the difference between regret and remorse. if she does see and understand the difference, I can't say for sure that she particularly cares that she frequently conflates the two in her mind and experience, and why that is wrong.

[dr-reids-fidget-toy]

kutner wtfffff

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

I watched north and south years and years ago; I don't remember exactly when but I'm pretty sure I was in my teens

I loved it then, but there's an extra appreciation to finally reading the book as an adult who grew up in the north, lived for a few years in the south, and now lives in Manchester

[ofstoriesandstardust]

will kylie cry at her doctor’s appointment tomorrow? stay tuned to find out

[snekdood]

Ppl on here: *actively dislike me and avoid me and probably wouldnt care if i died*

Me: well alright fuck yall idc what happens to any of you either

Those ppl: omg this means hes like okay with us being genocided? Hes literally okay with us facing transphobia and other forms of oppression? I literally knew he was bad, lets demonize him more that should help

[nina-ya]

a/n: happy birthday law! Just a little something! It’s also my anniversary today so that’s fun I get to celebrate two of my favorite people

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The man who was once counting the few birthdays he had left, now stands in front of you, long past his expiration date. Each year that has slipped by since feels like a stolen breath, borrowed from a future he had never dreamed he’d see. He carries that quiet disbelief with him, as if time is an unfamiliar stranger that lingers just a little too far beyond his grasp, offering more life than what he thought he was owed. His eyes speak of the melancholy nights wondering if he’d see another dawn, another year, a ghost of the man who was never supposed to make it past thirteen. 

“Happy birthday,” you whisper to him, your voice gentle and soft.

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. His silence is it’s one language– one of quiet gratitude. In the way his fingers trace the edges of the gift you hand him, there's this acknowledgment of the life he’s still discovering– one that’s no longer plagued by his past. 

Slowly, he opens the small box with a care that’s rather rare for him. His amber eyes flicker to you every few seconds as if still marveling at the kindness you offer him. Inside the box, the gift is simple, but it holds meaning that only the two of you could understand. He picks up the object and his thumb brushes over it as if he is holding your heart in his hands. 

“I didn’t think i’d make it this far,” he finally murmured, breaking his silence as he dredged up the words from somewhere deep within him. 

“But you are here,” you reply as you reach out and brush a strand of hair out of his face. Your hand traces his cheekbone, then his jawline, and it continues downward his neck and chest until it settles over his heart. Beneath your palm, you can feel his heartbeat, the one that was threatened to still by the hands of an incurable disease and a ruthless warlord. But here he is, still breathing. “And you’ll be here for a long time.”

His eyes soften just a flicker as he murmurs a ‘thank you.’ and you smile back at him, appreciating the man in front of you and a comfortable silence falls between you two. It’s the kind of silence that speaks more than words ever could. 

And at last, he pulls you close, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Happy birthday, Law,” you whisper, tilting your head up to give him a kiss on the cheek.  And in that moment, that oh so quiet and perfect moment, he allows himself to believe that perhaps he can accept the seemingly endless time he has been granted. Time for more stolen birthdays, for more moments where he opens his heart up and lets it bloom, just for you. 

[cherrydbear]

Since y'all seemed to like this I'll keep rambling on the subject, I can do this all day. Here are some of those examples where I think their friendship really shines through:

From Sanji's perspective, this guy just showed up outside his restaurant one day, dueled the legendary swordsman who slashed Don Krieg's fleet to pieces, willingly got cut almost in two, nearly bled to death, was tied up by his own crew and then captured by the Arlong pirates, still singlehandedly escaped and came back to join the fight and defeated one of Arlong's best fighters, then nearly bled to death again and woke up just in time to drink himself silly at the afterparty. I've heard people say they "match each other's freak" and that's the truth. Sanji watches this absolute wackadoodle of a man and knows he's found someone who matches his freak. From Zoro's point of view, some cook at a floating restaurant just fed all of their enemies out of principle before kicking their butts. How could he not respect that sort of unconditional adherence to a sense of honor and justice? Especially considering he himself experienced starvation not too long ago in Shells Town. Now this cook, the newest stray in Luffy's collection, immediately proves himself to be immensely capable both in the kitchen and on the battlefield, incurs injury to himself without complaint to protect these people he barely knows, and still is the only person to come sit by Zoro and check up on him. So Zoro knows that Sanji has a heart of pure gold, and I think that's a big part of why he gets frustrated when Sanji tries to cover it up with bravado and perviness.

This scene was really interesting to me because usually when someone demands that Zoro does something, he grouches and grumbles about it, so in this case it seems he just spontaneously started helping out himself. And if there was ever a man whose love language is acts of service, it's Roronoa Zoro. He seems to be more of a "companionable silence" kind of guy, while Sanji's a talker and will say anything to keep feeling connected. Now, I don't know if this is just a me thing, but I like to say my friends' names a lot, even just because the association with them brings me joy, but I rarely use the names of people I'm not close with except to refer to them in third person or to get their attention. In this scene, it seems to me that Sanji keeps repeating Zoro's name as a way to show he's thinking about him and appreciates him being there, though I might just be projecting.

Now, I know shippers go crazy over this one, but I think it's honestly really solid platonic evidence and I'll tell you why (not to dissuade shipping, I think you have to be friends before you can be more than friends so all of this can be fuel for the ship too if you want it to be). Firstly, they're comfortable enough to sleep this close together. Sanji's resting his sleepy head right on Zoro's shoulder (it should have been me, not him) and Zoro just lets him. Also note real quick, only a short distance away Luffy is using Usopp as a pillow, so they're all a cuddly cozy little family. When Zoro notices Sanji mistakenly trying to kiss him, he doesn't even move away, he just makes a face and waits for Sanji to wake up so he can make fun of him. Sanji, for his part, doesn't act embarrassed or disgusted that it turned out to be Zoro there, only playfully mad about his expression. They squabble for a few moments before Luffy pushes past them and they turn their attention to the next thing, argument forgotten, proving that neither was actually angry about anything and they were merely enjoying the opportunity to bicker.

This is from the hunting competition in Little Garden that I mentioned before. I just wanted to point out that both of them are grinning and clearly having a grand time.

(I love how Sanji's hands are just massive sometimes.) They have the entire forest clearing, and Sanji chooses to sit his little booty down right next to Zoro and toss his food at him. They're just like those kids in elementary who had beef over who has a more impressive Pokémon collection and would always sit next to each other at lunch to compare cards and play together at recess but claim they're archnemeses. And for as much as Sanji implied to Usopp (though oblivious) that the heart shaped vegetables were just for the ladies, he did choose to make it and serve it to the whole crew. Speaking of the ladies, Sanji is always adamant about protecting them, but he was perfectly fine with leaving Nami and Robin in Zoro's care, just as Zoro trusted Sanji to take care of Luffy and Usopp.

I also loved how Sanji packed Zoro a cute little lunchbox for exploring and he was NOT going to let no stupid south bird take it from him.

Alright that's all for today folks I gotta wake up in like 5 hours for work lol

Continuation from this post

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

How about intersex Natasha x fem reader where Natasha is basically on her hands and knees begging to fuck fem reader. Saying things like, "I'll make you feel so good." or "I only need 10 minutes."

High and dry

Paring: fem!reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: SMUT, begging, pet names, nipple play, switch!reader, switch!Nat, P in V, breeding kink, soft sex

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist-

"Please" I heard Natasha beg "Like I said Tasha I need to finish my mission report first" She signed loudly. She woke up from a perfect dream; she had been thrusting in and out your tight heat and then just as she was about to cum- her alarm went of leaving her high and dry. She awoke with you already up and taking a shower, because of both of your latest mission you had opted for a few days of home office together. You only came home yesterday evening as the both of you decided on cuddles instead of a steamy love making session.  

Now you where standing under the hot stream of the shower head, letting the hot droplets of water run over the soft skin of your delicate body. Only with a towel on you reentered the shared bedroom and Natasha felt like she just got even harder.

"I’ll go write the mission report now alright baby?" You leaned down to kiss her. Of course she noticed the big bulge in her pants with a little wet patch from her pre cum. "I hoped for some morning stretches first bunny?" She pulled you on top of her pelvis, you mewled at feeling the the bulge against your own crotch. 

"Natasha not now" It took an incurable amount of will power not to devour your delicious girlfriend, but finishing the mission report would be much smarter. After all a quickie rarely failed to become hours long of passionate love making between the sheets. She groaned rubbing her temples, you had rarely seen her so needy. 

A few hours later Natasha sneaked around the house like an animal searching for prey. "Natasha what’s the matter?" You already knew the answer to the question, but you wanted to hear her say it. "I need to fuck you, bunny, please" she mewled appearing behind your office chair to kiss your neck. "Natasha soon" you pushed her face away "I need to focus" 

"I’ll make you feel so good" She pushed her face into your neck to inhale your sweet smell. She was getting at you it was hard to say no to her anymore "I’ll only need 10 minutes" she cooed against your skin. You closed your laptop before catching her lips with yours. "Fuck Tasha, do it quick" She couldn’t hide her excitement she wanted to kiss every centimetre of your soft skin. She spun your office chair around to lift you up, your wrapped your legs around your waist as she carried you to to the bedroom. 

"Fuck sweetheart, ‘m gonna fuck this tight pussy so good." She threw you on the bed her hands going to the hem of your shirt pushing it up. She groaned in responds of seeing your stiff nipples. Her mouth latched onto your nipple teasing the hardened nub with her exerted tongue. You mewl at the sensation all the thought of the paper work long having left your clouded mind. 

"Fuck Nat I need you inside" You moaned out pushing her head further down your stomach. "let me ride you sweetheart" Nat nodded before laying down on her back. You helped her undress before pushing her boxers to her mid thigh her large penis standing against her stomach. You grabbed her semi hard lengthen before moving your fist up and down her hardening dick. 

You straddled her pelvis your hole hovering above her hardened dick. Her hands went to your hips guiding you down on her shaft. You let out an almost pornographic moan at her delicious stretch. You stilled for a moment to adjust to her length making Nat lose her mind. Your tight velvet walls hugging her shaft so good. Slowly you started to move you hips up and down and Natasha trusts up her into her tight heat groaning at he feeling.

You grab on the shoulders of your girlfriend before your lips meet hers. Her tongue went inside your mouth fighting your dominance, which after a fair fight she woman. Natasha needed more, more of your tight heat. Before you could say anything she had switched your positions pistoling inside your heat like an animal. 

Her hand went to your puffy clit playing with the bundle of nerves making the pleasure almost unbearable. Your wall pulsate around her cock, she knew how close you were and she felt the same. "Fuck baby can I cum inside please" She whined above you and the idea of her sed in your womb turned you on. "Fuck Natty fill me up" She brought you to your peak before having her peak yourself. You felt her hot cum shooting inside your womb as you cream her dick. 

“Fuck I needed that” Natasha laughed before pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m sure you got time for another round”

:)

[dadbodbuck]

could it shine down here with you?

Rating: G | WC: 1.7k | Pairing: BuckTommy

Loosely based on this post by @loulovingho!

Summary:

Tommy doesn't realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

Read it here on Ao3 or continue below!

Tommy is five, or maybe six, and he doesn’t like Thanksgiving. His dad is screaming at his mom because the turkey isn’t thawed. He’s calling her a lot of words that Tommy thinks are really mean. Tommy’s dad yells a lot, but it’s rarely this bad. Tommy’s mom usually waits for it to blow over, but this time, Tommy watches from the living room entry as her face crumbles and she shoulders past Tommy’s dad, breezes by Tommy, and flees into their bedroom.

Tommy wants to follow her, but his dad grabs his arm, too-tight, and tugs Tommy away towards where the half-thawed turkey is laying on the ground, cold and slimy. When they get there, Tommy’s dad hands him a garbage bag and a roll of paper towels and says “Your mom needs some time alone to think about what she’s done. Clean up this mess.”

It’s okay, because later his mom comes out of the bedroom and kneels down, her eyes red and puffy, and she tells him, “I’m so sorry you had to see that, honey. You did a good job cleaning the kitchen. It’s okay, we can still have dinner, even if I messed up the turkey,” and she makes Stovetop stuffing, and takes cranberry sauce out of a can, dishing them up on a plastic plate for Tommy, and a glass plate for her.

Tommy’s not sure where his dad went, but he’s glad it’s just him and his mom for a little while.

Tommy is twelve, and he hates Thanksgiving. He hates most holidays centered around football, actually. It’s a double-edged sword—his dad gets drunk, and his dad gets riled up, and he’s either too loud and happy, or too loud and mad. The Superbowl is Tommy’s least favorite time of the year. Especially when the Rams are playing.

The Rams aren’t playing this year, but that doesn’t mean Tommy’s off the hook. Tommy brings his dad beers when his dad calls for them, doesn’t say a word to his old man, carefully doesn’t flinch when his dad yells angrily at the screen.

For the most part, Tommy sits alone in his room and looks at the picture of his mom. It’s her high school graduation, she’s gleaming in her cap and gown. Tommy misses her.

Tommy knows that his family isn’t normal. That it’s fucked up. But he also knows how to deal with his dad, especially now that his mom isn’t around to instigate anymore. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen if he gets sent to foster care. He doesn’t want to know.

Tommy also knows, somewhere, that it’s partially his own fault. Maybe if he was a better kid—someone his dad could be proud of, this wouldn’t happen. He was always doing something to incur his father’s wrath. Plus, it’s not like his dad doesn’t love him, in his own way. Tommy loves his dad, too.

Tommy makes his own Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce from a can. His dad doesn’t eat it, but Tommy doesn’t care, because at least he survived Thanksgiving without any more bruises.

Tommy is eighteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one. Thanksgiving is in a shitty barracks at the base, a tiny studio in downtown LA, and the 118 firehouse. It’s spent wolfing down an MRE, trying to figure out how to get his horrible stove to work, and eating Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce and praying that the alarm doesn’t go off. There are the other soldiers, and Tommy’s rescue cat Teddy, and Howie.

The MRE is as it always is. You get used to the weird textures and instant coffee and chemical heat smell of the food warmer. The funny thing about Iraq, the thing that will keep Tommy awake for years and years, is that it gets cold during the winter. Tommy knew before he shipped out that he didn’t know what much about the country, but now that he’s here, he’s stuck with sick realization after sick realization. The people here are scared, and the Army isn’t helping. Tommy looks at the other soldiers in a way he shouldn’t. Civilians are dying. War is messy in a way that allows people to excuse inexcusable violence. Tommy cannot speak the language, of either the Iraqi citizens or the people he was told would be his brothers. Iraq gets cold during the winter.

Teddy is an orange beauty, with long fluffy fur and a penchant for mischief. Tommy didn’t ask for Thanksgiving off, but it’s a holiday at the Academy, apparently. So, he’s here, listening to the click of the gas range as it tries to light. Teddy watches from the tiny countertop with uncharacteristic judgment in his eyes. When the flame finally catches, Tommy laughs victoriously, and gets to work making stuffing and cranberry sauce for the first time in years. It’s not gourmet by any means, just the Stovetop and the canned stuff, but it feels like his mom. It feels like he’s talking to her again. Tommy wonders if there’s a universe out there where his mom got help before it was too late. He eats his food in the camp chair that furnishes his pathetic living room, with Teddy invading his personal space and trying to sneak a bite for himself.

Tommy keeps the tradition of making himself Stovetop and canned cranberry sauce. He keeps it the year Howie shows up at the 118 and immediately proves himself braver and stronger than Tommy ever could be. While everyone else is busy whining about missing their grandma’s mashed potatoes, Tommy scrapes together his sacred traditional Thanksgiving feast. While Tommy’s not looking, Howie steals half of it.

“Mm!” Howie sighs, “That childhood nostalgia fakeness.”

“Hey! That was mine,” Tommy says, without any real heat. He hasn’t been able to muster anything beyond mild irritation for Howie since he saved his life.

“Oh, because you were going to eat all of that in one sitting,” Howie scoffs, “I’ll pay you back your dollar for my half if you really want.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tommy huffs, scraping out the other half for his own portion. They sit at the table and eat together, and it’s the closest Tommy’s ever had to spending Thanksgiving with someone.

It’s not until they finish eating and the bell rings that Tommy realizes Howie’s the only one who hasn’t asked Tommy if he’s sad he’s missing out on the holidays.

For the most part, his Thanksgivings after the 118 are spent much the same way, but at Harbor, and alone. He gets to put his leftovers in the fridge and eat off them for a few days. Thanksgiving (save for deep fried turkey incidents) is a relatively tame holiday. No fireworks, at least.

Then, Evan.

A lot of things change for Tommy when Evan crashes into his life, all legs and a blinding smile. Evan is a whirlwind and the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen. Evan is kind of everything.

When Tommy realizes he’s falling in love, it makes him sick to his stomach. He remembers loving his dad enough to excuse his anger, loving his mom enough to let her slip away, loving a country enough to enact its violence, loving the sense of belonging at the 118 enough to allow the kindest people he’s ever met to suffer. Tommy doesn’t love right. He can’t let Evan get tired of him and leave. He can’t poison Evan until he turns into something cruel. So Tommy breaks up with him. Evan asks him to move in, and he can feel the iron jaws of a bear trap closing around his throat, so he breaks up with him.

Tommy doesn’t realize until later that he already asked for Thanksgiving off.

(Thanksgiving came up between them for the first time when Evan asked if he wanted to do their own thing or go over to the grand 118 Thanksgiving Feast.

“I don’t know,” Evan has shrugged, “I mean, I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to pressure you into a big thing if you don’t want to, or if—if you’re used to smaller Thanksgivings. What does your family do for Thanksgiving?”

“Um,” Tommy had said, a little caught off-guard like he was every time they brushed up against the topic of family, “We didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving. I usually just get a box of Stovetop stuffing and a can of cranberry sauce and call it a day.”

Evan had scoffed, mock-offended. “Well! In that case, we’re going. Mark your calendar. You’re going to cream your pants when you try Bobby’s turkey.”

Tommy had smiled and thought maybe. Maybe this will be the year.)

Tommy sighs and opens the box of Stovetop stuffing. His water and butter are already boiling, so he pours the mix in and watches it saturate. He stirs it and takes it off the heat to sit. A strange, painful sadness claws at the inside of his throat. It hurts. It hurts worse than it usually does.

He doesn’t think about Evan and Bobby’s allegedly orgasm-worthy turkey and Howie introducing Tommy to Jee-yun and how close they had all seemed at the hospital for Denny. He walks over to the mantle above his fireplace, with a small, framed pawprint inside, and Teddy 2021 written underneath.

Five minutes passes slowly without anyone to distract him. Tommy tries and fails not to think about every holiday he’s spent alone, or wishing he was alone. This is the first holiday he’s wished for someone in particular who wasn’t his mom or Teddy.

Tommy eats stuffing and canned cranberry sauce at his kitchen table. Somewhere, Evan is in a house warm with love. Somewhere, Evan is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Tommy’s glad people love him. He deserves to be loved.

Tommy doesn’t like watching football on Thanksgiving, so instead he puts on Mean Girls. After his stomach settles, he’s too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and sleep until his shift in the morning.

When Tommy gets to work, he’s surprised when Lucy says, “Delivery for you in the fridge, Kinard, you better eat it before I can get my hands on it.”

Inside the fridge is a glass Tupperware container wrapped in a plastic Chinese takeout bag. There’s a sticky note attached to it that says Bobby’s turkey is even better the next day.

Tommy texts Evan and asks about it. Evan doesn’t say anything back.

But he does get a text from Howie, and the timing is too quick to be coincidence. When you’re reheating it, remember to put half a teaspoon of water in the dish so it doesn’t dry everything out in the microwave.