#happening in my guts and i am supposed to go to thanksgiving dinner at my therapists house (yes this is weird but also not the first time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kashimos-hajime · 4 years

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fragrance | a.h.

summary: Plato said, “The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an urge. It is a homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it's almost impossible to stamp out.”

WARNINGS: LMAO SMUT (18+), oral (m!receiving), swearing, drinking, nervous and awkward y/n and hotch heehee pairing: college!aaron hotchner x fem!reader word count: 4.8k

a/n: lmao so i watched a tiktok of THAT SCENE in love and human remains so i am legally obligated to write what inspired me. ok but @venusbarnes,,, it happened,,,

part of the bitter end universe but not required beforehand to read this. takes place in their second year of college

In retrospect, you know you’re freaking out over nothing.

You just showered, changed outfits twice, tried to fix your hair, inspected your makeup constantly since you’ve finished, and tried to figure out a way to call it off to pass the time.

Why are you even worried? Ever since you’ve gotten off the plane, which, in itself, is a step you cannot backtrack since you are merely a college student with limited funds, your knees have been weak and you feel like you don’t really have a stomach.

Why? It’ll be fine.

You’ve been over Aaron for two-and-some-months years, now. The distance did you good, did you both good. Namely, you’re quite damn sure you don’t feel anything for him anymore besides the occasional flicker of irritation, the excited burst in your stomach, the absolute terror of seeing him again.

How has he changed? It feels like it’s been so long.

You glance at the clock.

9:55

You said 10AM. You have five minutes at the most to get yourself together and just run down the staircase, shove yourself into his presence before your nerves can tell you to turn back. Taking a deep breath, you look at your reflection in the mirror one last time before heading to the desk and grabbing your wrist watch. It’s worn down leather is soft to your touch and you feel an overwhelming sense of calm overtake you.

This will be fine.

As you fasten it to your wrist, you glance at the face. Time seems to tick by slower as you pull on your ankle boots, swipe a finger over your lip, and grab your room key. As you descend the cold stairwell, memories grasp at your consciousness, tease you, but you push them away and instead focus on putting on foot in front of the other, focus on gathering the courage to stand in front of him again.

Before you know it, you’re opening the door and walking over to the pacing figure you only know to be your best friend. His hair is still long, but he’s wearing a leather jacket, so that’s new, and he’s frowning to himself.

And it makes you smile, because that’s him. Aaron Hotchner, master frowner, broody boy. His hair is still long, his eyes still so dark. He hasn’t changed.

God, what will you say to make him laugh?

“What’s the deal with the jacket, George?” you say without thinking.

“George? And here I thought I was John,” he replies just as quickly, matching your tone and your entire heart lurches into your throat as your smile grows stiffly.

Crap.

And that’s when you realize that, quite frankly, that convincing yourself that you’re over Aaron Hotchner is going to be a lot harder than it looked at first.

You’re fighting the urge to let the whole facade drop, but you can’t because this is Aaron, your best friend you haven’t seen in forever and although you’re so fucking happy to see him, you know everything is easier said than done.

He’s just your best friend, and you’re… you’re… feeling great. Your stomach is a bundle of nerves but that’s because you’re excited to spend time with him. Right?

“So, where to?” you ask, feeling quite exposed as he looks at you strangely. “I’m starving,” you say, an overwhelming need to explain causing word vomit to spill out of your mouth, “so, I was thinking we could get some breakfast, first. I’m in the mood for anything really.”

“Oh,” he says. “I have a place in mind.”

“O-okay. Lead the way, then. It’s kinda chilly out, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you needa grab another coat?” he asks as you step closer and they begin to walk to the door. He opens it for you and as you slip past him, your entire system shuts down. Your mind heads straight for the gutter, vivid images, voices, feelings from your dream flashing through your head.

Cheap beer, smoke, sweat, and a cologne you can’t forget.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. Are you, uhm, are you going to be okay in just that jacket? It looks great, by the way.” Are your hands shaking or is that just the swelling throat and the hard lump in your gut’s fault?

Shit. Holy shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

“Thanks, and, uh, no. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

You nod and smile shakily. “Great. It’s just… I’m really glad to see you.”

He stops for a moment, stares as if he knows or maybe you just feel naked in your own skin, and then matches your timid smile. “I’m really happy to see you too.”

Right. What did you say again about nerves?

[TWENTY HOURS EARLIER]

“You guys better behave,” Aaron sighs. “I’m not gonna be responsible if I have to deck Carter.”

“Woah there, Hotch,” his roommate comments, sliding off his bed and slinging an around his shoulders. “You have a girlfriend.”

“We’re on a break, actually.”

“I thought you don’t believe in breaks.”

“Well, we’re just talking things out with the long distance thing. It’s not like when she was in high school. She just needs to adjust to her first year, and we’re still talking. So, it’s more like… an intermission before we resume after mid-terms.”

“So, you’re single.”

“Technically, but I’m also not looking,” he retorts, just in case his roommate tries to set something up behind his back, but the guy merely shrugs.

“Whatever you say, Hotch-o.”

He scowls, getting up and running a hand through his hair before grabbing his jacket off the hook. “I’m just trying to say that Y/N’s been there for me since before you guys and before Haley.”

“I get it,” his roommate, named Earl, says as he flips the collar of his varsity jacket and grabs the room key. “She’s like a sister to you, right?” Aaron doesn’t say anything to that and Earl doesn’t prod him any further as he grabs his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Hotch. I’ll spread the word to the guys. They won’t try anything.”

“Yeah, thanks, Earl.”

“I’m heading to class, but it’s the bar tonight, right? You’ll pick her up from the airport?”

“Yeah.” The door opens and closes with a click and Aaron lets out a sigh, turning away from the mirror so he can stop pretending he’s trying to fix whatever Earl thought was wrong with his appearance. He just wanted to stay busy so his friend could leave him alone to his messy thoughts.

He had received your last letter on Monday, confirming your flight for the Thanksgiving weekend. You’d be here with him and his friends for three days.

It wasn’t his idea, nor yours. Sort of like… a mutual epistolary understanding that enough is enough and one of them should just… go.

You had volunteered for that. You had always wanted to see Harvard’s gorgeous campus, according to your last letter.

Aaron runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He has one day off to catch up on the work assigned, get ahead of the reading, and just relax before his friends drag him off to hang out until the sun rises for an entire weekend. He’s sure you’ll love it. You’ve always loved staying out at night where it’s light, watching the sunrise and going to sleep to it.

Despite everything, you enjoy the solitude the night, the contemplative silence of it. Just like him.

He can’t wait to see you again.

Sitting in the RA office and watching time tick by, he can’t help but feel like something is chaining him down. A heavy weight sits between his shoulders and he stares at the clock for what feels like a short eternity, unable to focus.

The day is slow in its passing, and a growing, unwanted hollowness begins to fill his soul as he half-heartedly finishes his criminal causation theory assignment, reviews for the quiz on Tuesday, and reads the next chapter on the foundations of the criminal justice system. He doesn’t really pay attention to any of it, though, and he feels like his head is stuffed with cotton as he gets up for the first time in hours and stretches, glancing at the time.

Your plane is supposed to land at 6:30.

It’s 6:00 now, and he was supposed to eat dinner before going to pick you up.

Shit. He’ll just have to eat at the bar.

Gathering his books and papers into his bag, he slings it onto his shoulder, trying to ignore the cold sweat clamming his hands up just as the phone in the RA office rings. It’s so jarring her starts, turning to the device and his heart pounds in his throat as he goes to grab it. Duty to the job means he has to, even if he might be late. You’ll understand, right?

“Hello, Resident Assistant speaking,” he says with a sigh.

“Hey.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Student Services was kind enough to reroute me.” A car beeps behind you and he frowns, holding the phone closer to his ear as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder to sit more firmly. “I’m calling from an airport payphone, but bad news. My flight got delayed, so I can’t come to the bar tonight. I’ll be arriving, like, dead in the morning. Two or three AM.”

“Damn. The boys will miss meeting you,” he says, unable to help the unhappy but forced smile. It comes across as a grimace but he hopes you appreciate the effort. It’s what you’d say if you were here.

“The boys?” you echo, amused. “Well then, tell the boys that they’ll have to wait until morning.” More seriously: “I’m really sorry, Aaron. I was so excited to see you tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s—it’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower?” you repeat and Aaron feels his throat shrink to the diameter of a needle. “You don’t call me that unless you’re genuinely sorry about something bad. Like, death-bad.” Then, a bright laugh that shouldn’t bat away the dreary disposition overcoming him, but it does. “Aaron, it’s not that important—just one night. Look, let’s meet up at 10AM in the hotel lobby tomorrow morning and make up for it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. See you in a bit, Hopscotch.”

“Bye.”

He heads to his room, your voice echoing in his head. Freshening up with a splash of cold water and a rake of a comb through his hair, he explains the situation to Earl as they head down to the bar near campus where some of the other guys are already drinking.

“That’s too bad. Would’ve been nice to meet her.”

“Tomorrow, Earl. She isn’t cancelling.”

“I know, but y’know, it would’ve been fun to beat her in darts.”

“You’re awful at darts.”

“Bigger opponent pool. C’mon, cheer up, Hotch. It’s just a delayed flight, you said so yourself.” More grumpy silence. “Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up. First shots are on me.”

His cheeks flushed with heat, he grabs at the shot blindly and throws it back, laughing as his friends get on the dance floor. The bar seems to haze before him. The darkness is pierced by blue lights and red as the shadowed patrons swing to and fro on the floor. Everything is gauzy, edges blurred as the lights flicker and filter through the crowd. Aaron slouches against the booth, smirking at the way Earl’s trying to lay the moves on a girl who merely walks away and he flashes a sympathetic thumbs up before his friend simply rejoins the rest of the guys on the floor.

Everyone had chipped in to buy him round after round in order to get him to loosen up, and it’s hard to admit, but it’s worked. Everything is ethereal, and he feels like he’s floating through life.

He wants to dance, but he doesn’t think he can stand on his own two feet, to be honest. His entire world is tipped and the silly smile on his face isn’t going to disappear any time soon as a figure makes her way through the crowd, making her way towards him. It catches his eye, the way she moves around people, keeps her head held up.

He can’t quite see her face but even then, he knows that he knows her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks before he can stop himself, like he isn’t in control of his mouth. He gapes as the woman sits down beside him. Her skin smells like sweet fruit and the sting of tequila as she slings an arm around his neck, and his entire stomach flips as she leans over, her arm bent and her fingers playing with the hair by his ear. “You’re not… you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?” she asks, twirling hair around her finger as she gently trails her other hand down his chest. “You don’t want me here?”

“No, no, I’ve missed you, I just—” Her palm runs lower, over his stomach and further. His head whips towards her and he catches the sweet, dulcet notes of warm vanilla spice shampoo. It calms him, sweet in his sinuses and he watches her indistinguishable face. Despite not seeing quite clearly, he knows she’s beautiful with an unintentionally seductive smile, a tentative charm to her movements.

The hand stops and a heat burns through his chest, following the trail she’d carved into him and he feels blood drain from his head so viciously it leaves him lightheaded.

“Just what?” she asks quietly, yet still so loudly over the pub’s pounding music and he groans softly, head tilting back.

“Shit. I just didn’t expect you here. I should introduce you to my friends—” He wants to get up but finds his entire body moving through molasses. He can barely lift a finger and, through the blurred streams of the conscious and the subconscious, he knows he doesn’t really want to.

He doesn’t want to share.

“Oh, then let’s go.” Her hand lifts but, like a flash of lightning, his fingers wrap around her wrist and keep her firmly against him. “Aaron.” Chastising this time, like he’s a housecat, and she, the exasperated owner. Fingers thread through his hair as he grins at the woman.

“I’m not keen on sharing you right now,” he admits, eyes falling to lips that press into a wondrous smile. “I don’t feel keen on sharing you ever.”

“Is that a fact?” she asks, and he nods, his nose brushing against hers as she leans down to kiss him. Her mouth is warm ecstasy, like cider on a cold winter day that burns through his blood, and his heart is beating everywhere at once—in his throat, in his fingers, between his legs. Fingers card through his hair as his hand finds the curve of a hip and he pulls.

Immediately, as if sensing his intentions before he even thinks it, the woman swings a leg over his hip and straddles him, the dress riding up luxurious thighs and he chuckles to himself as her hands find his neck, thumbs brushing over the sharp cut of his jaw. Her mouth opens against his, breathing into the next ferocious kiss again as his hands trace the shape of her, the swell of her legs, the cool heat of her skin against his burning hands.

“What do you want from me, Aaron?” she whispers, leaning in close enough that he can feel her lips against the shell of his ear, and then down his neck. He gasps, breath catching in his throat as her hands gently squeeze his throat as if reminding him of her previous question but he can’t quite speak. She kisses down past his collarbones, pulls down the neck of his shirt teasingly and peppers kisses to the skin that she can reach. Her fingers are pressing into his pulsepoint, the other hand travelling down his waist again and he knows she can feel it, the hard bulge pressing up between her legs.

She trails back up again, her kisses teasing the corner of his mouth and he turns, trying to catch the elusive minx only to delight in her light laughter when she pulls back.

“Tease,” he mumbles, eyes shut tight and only then do her lips find his again just as fingers pull at his belt buckle and he sucks in a breath as she glances down with him, curiously running her knuckles gently along the curve of it. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows down his gasp and he hears her chuckle. As if he’s a mere bystander to his own actions, Aaron watches his hands trail up the sides of her and slowly find purchase on her shoulders.

With the gentlest of pressure, he pushes down, and it’s like she melts between his hands, legs sliding, entire body sinking as his legs open wider to welcome her. Her breath is warm as she unzips his jeans, fingers prying his boxers down until they brush against it, pulsing and hard against his abdomen.

“Jesus,” she whispers but he hears it so clearly, her breath teasing the tip as fingers wrap around his dick. A strong, warm tongue follows, from the bottom to the tip, tracing the vein and every single ounce of oxygen leaves his body when she goes down on him, endlessly warm and wet. Hands wrap around what isn’t in her mouth and his fingers find her scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair as his head hits the wall behind him.

Swallowing tightly, a lopsided smirk crosses his face and he lets out a soft sigh when she tilts her head, takes him in until she’s gagging on it. His hips twitch but a hand against his pelvis stalls him, a firm pressure that makes him open his eyes and look down to see her already staring back at him. Eyes dark, lips shining in what light there is, he nearly loses it right there as she swallows him down, making his entire body clench. His jaw tight, he lets out a hissed moan and the hand not on her head grabs his thigh, trying to stave off the desire to fuck her mouth.

The bass beat of the pub beats in his head as the hand on his hip finds the hand on his thigh, traces the tense veins along the back as her head slowly draws up, teeth grazing, tongue flat against his cock.

And then, down again, heavy breaths against his navel through the nose, and he’s in fucking bliss as the woman just goes on and on, deeper and deeper and when she gags, it almost makes him lose his already ill-tempered control because her fingers dig into the back of his hand, the other one squeezes the base of his cock, and stars explode behind his eyes as he chuckles breathlessly, blindly to the ceiling.

A ringing splinters through his skull as he groans, the need to thrust growing too powerful but she squeezes his hand, telling him to stay still without ever lifting her mouth off his cock. He can hear it, the sounds of her wet mouth rising and falling, sucking and licking and fuck, if he’s not going to come down her throat—

Her tongue drags along the underside of his cock as she pulls away, hollowing out her cheeks and dragging her fingers up his painfully hard erection, through the wet slick her mouth left behind and she pulls herself up, back bending underneath his hand, chest pressed flush against his and he can taste her again; the sweetness of vanilla, the sweat the pub brings all its occupants, the desire that fizzles so wantonly against his tongue.

“Am I still teasing?” she asks, lips brushing against his chin before he’s lifting his head again. Her hands run over his chest, find the planes of his shoulders, the cord of his neck, and he chuckles, squeezing his waist as she climbs into his lap again, sits squarely so that his erection rubs against her stomach. He bites back a groan and her smirk tells him all he needs to know.

“Seeing as you didn’t let me finish…” he trails off, just as humorous and she laughs, mouth ghosting his, and he almost reaches for it before she’s drawing back, always just out of reach. Never his. Never. “C’mere.”

“You’re no fun,” she mutters, but her smile betrays her faux displeasure and as his hands down and under her dress, skirting along the waistband of lacey panties, he chuckles huskily. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. And do you know how much I want you? How much… how much I need you?” His fingers hook on the waistband and begin to tug just as she cups his face and leans down. His eyes flutter shut and everything seems to melt away as her breath tickles his nose and he grins, pulling down, down, down…

“You could show me, if you’d like…”

Her laughter is the only thing he can hear. Well, that and…

And that ringing—

Holy shit, what is that ringing?

Opening his eyes, there is nothing. Reaching blindly in the darkness, his hand collides with his alarm clock and he slaps the button, turning it off as he groans, turning the digital numbers towards him.

5:45AM

When did he get back? God, his head is pounding, and… he has to get up. Shit. His thoughts are a disorganized mess as he gets up, throwing off the blankets and it’s only then he’s painfully aware that he got… more than excited about his dream.

His dream that’s fading from his memory the longer he’s awake that he can barely remember any of it. Iit was at the bar last night? When did he even get back to the dorm?

Swinging his legs off the bed, he flicks the light on the nightstand, spotting a glass of water with a dissolving alka selzter tablet and a note. Grabbing it, he squints against the light as he reads the messy, uneven scrawl.

Stayed by your side all night because you sulked and got hammered. Like blackout drunk. Even outdrank me, buddy, which is fuckin impressive.

Wake me up for breakfast. I’m drunk.

Goodnight. And you’re welcome.

-E

Shaking his head, he downs the water despite how much his head throbs at the movement before he gets up and awkwardly palms the front of his boxers, trying to ignore how much it physically hurts that he’s not doing anything about it.

He needs to shower and take care of this.

Grabbing new clothes, Aaron glances at his snoring roommate and curses his routine of waking up so damn early. He collects his toiletries, and as he heads for the shower, he tries to think back on his dream, but it’s dissipating quicker by the second.

It was definitely at the bar, he thinks. Something about… he doesn’t know but something smelled and tasted sweet. What was I even doing at the bar?

Well, by the erection against his thigh, it’s safe to assume what he was dreaming about.

The question is more about the who.

Your eyes fly open and you lurch up on your bed.

Your whole body is burning as the remaining wisps of your dream begin to fade and you glance around yourself, disoriented. You could’ve sworn you weren’t in your bedroom for a second, but as you glance around, you know you are. You’re no longer in that dark place with blue lights that swung, figures blurry. That someone who was crouched in front of you, you think, is gone and his hands which had pulled your legs apart with gentle hesitation hadn’t left scorch marks, but they might as well have.

The sensation still lingers.

God, it feels like you haven’t slept a wink and as you slowly wake, your body rebooting, you become more filled with dread. Sighing heavily, you rub at your eyes and touch your cheeks, trying to remember what you did before sleeping.

I showered, went straight to bed. Didn’t go out… then… What’s happening? What was I even dreaming about?

It’s only then you become acutely aware of between your legs. The soaked, uncomfortable sensation, the strange tightness of your thighs.

Holy fuck. And about who?

Running a hand over the cold sheets, you shiver and get up, grabbing the unopened complimentary mini bottle of water you’d gotten from the plane from your bag.

As soon as you take one sip, you’re chugging it down, trying to alleviate the sweat gathering at the nape of your neck, slipping down your back. You feel oily and strangely empty, your heart racing as you toss the empty plastic into the trash can and head back towards the bed, reaching blindly for the light switch. Turning it on, you glance at the clock. 5:47 in the morning.

Charming.

In less than five hours, you’ll have to be heading down to the lobby and facing your best friend.

Why does that thought suddenly fill you with a terrible concoction of nerves, nausea, and cold shivers?

Trying to grasp the last remnants of your dream, you head for the bathroom to splash some water on your face and change your underwear, too bone-dead tired to even think about showering. Then, you head back to bed to try to get some sleep, but the heat seems to be more than skin-deep because despite the amount of splashing and patting of freezing water against an exhausted face, a terrible, sinking feeling twists your gut, making your knees weak.

What on Earth were you even dreaming about? You can’t even remember now except you feel utterly exhausted in the wake of it and the only hint of the content is the slick between your thighs.

Your sleep-addled brain eventually convinces any part of you still awake to just try to sleep, and as you slip into the covers, the faint but entirely unique scent of cologne, beer and smoke clings to your senses.

[THE PRESENT]

Really, it should be okay.

The hotel isn’t too sketchy, the lobby smells vaguely of lavender and cinnamon from one of those bath shop candles, and he shouldn’t be worried.

Why is he worried? His guts have been in knots since he’s woken up, his head feels like it's been dunked in water for hours and everything is swimming as he sits in the lobby, his palms sweating. Maybe it’s the hangover, but it feels heavier than that. Yes, his head is hammering, but there’s a strange upset in his gut, too.

Must’ve been something about that dream he can’t quite place. Just thinking about it makes his head beat even harder.

But, you had said ten o’clock.

Ten o’clock.

He looks at his wrist watch.

9:57

Time seems to be passing so slowly that he’s not sure the seconds even tick by as his knee begins to jiggle, his hands run flat against his jeans. When he can’t take the nervous ticking inside his chest, he gets up to pace, eyes darting to the staircase where you’d be coming down from.

Is he nervous about seeing you or excited? Is it both? Neither? Something else?

Aaron thinks he’s going to throw up. What if it’s awkward? After all, years between the last visit and now—in the summer, somehow they always just miss each other or there’s money problems or some other plan—things are bound to change.

It’s nerves. It has to be.

The door opens and he turns around to see you there, walking over to him with a dark jacket over a green shirt. It clashes wonderfully and you’re smiling like the sun lives in your heart and you’re smiling at him.

“What’s the deal with the jacket, George?” you tease, gesturing to his leather jacket.

“George?” he repeats easily, too easily. An overwhelming flood in his chest and you arch an eyebrow, grinning still, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “And here I thought I was John.” Your smile only grows and he feels like he can’t breathe and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.

As you adjust your own jacket, compliment him on his, and ask where he wants to go for breakfast, Aaron can’t help the terrible ache in his chest.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Shit.

He opens the door and you walk by, the smell of shampoo invading his entire space and he reels back, blinking. His breath hitches, his entire body stiffens.

Warm vanilla spice.

Oh, shit.

a/n: so, uh, sex dreams for the win? to be decided ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dont forget to reblog if u liked loves ❤️

TAGS: @withyoutilltheendofthismess @thebriarpatch @joemazzello-imagines @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @sera-wonderland @pity-mee @duvetsandpillows @roses-and-grasses @stainedpomegranatelips @angelsbabey @sansonnette @xxlovingfandomsxx @rachelxwayne @kingandrear @simsvetements @emery--nicole--morrison @genevievedarcygranger @mooneylupinblack @sercyan @forgottenword

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thinkinem · 3 years

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seeing discussion of lgbtq+ representation in one chicago on the dash so I’m taking this as my opportunity to float my overindulgent head canon* that Matt Casey is one superbly repressed queer.

*this quickly got out of hand and is likely well into au territory, but if I have to think about-- it as incoherent as it is--then you do too!

The reason he botched his moment with Sylvie so hard was that when things slowed down and Sylvie asked her Gabby question, Matt got majorly overwhelmed by the reality that he was about to jump into another relationship with a woman that already has all these ideas about who he is as a man and as a boyfriend.

Usually he can ignore the dull feeling of disconnect that always comes when he’s first intimate with a woman. But dammit, he really thought Sylvie could be The One. He really thought this time those feelings of affection and aesthetic appreciation that he could conjure when he pressed himself to meant something. He was so sure that he was going to feel that spark people write songs about with Sylvie. That it was going to redeem him for all the ways he couldn’t be enough for Gabby, for all the times he looked Hallie in the face and wasn’t truthful.

But that spark, swoop, tingle, whatever it’s supposed to be, it isn’t there. Sure, he’s got the motions down, a smooth execution of the classic moves, and he likes feeling strong and needed and scooping Sylvie up without hesitation does that for him. But it’s not the aha moment he was expecting. The moments they’d shared over the past two years, the little glimpses of a future with this woman in his arms turn stale just like they always do when he goes to seal the deal.

When Sylvie pulls back, Matt’s heart stops. He’s sure this is it, that if anyone is going to finally see through him it’s going to be Sylvie Brett. And in a lot of ways he’s relieved. Sylvie is a safe space, a trusted confidante, he knows she won’t mock or laugh. But also the idea of putting words to the way he feels scares the life out of him, to say it out loud would make his Otherness too real. (Even when he and Kelly were in the middle of whatever it was they had, Matt could never fully admit to it out loud, not even just as a whisper in the dark to the man that had already seen all of him and stayed close anyway).

But Sylvie doesn’t see through him. Or she thinks she does, but really she couldn’t be farther from the truth. So when she asks if he’d go with Gabby, it feels easiest to say he doesn’t know.

But his “I don’t know” was less about going with Gabby as an individual, and more about the idea of committing himself to another/any woman again. The divorce gutted him. It forced up a lot of thoughts and feelings that he was relying on that relationship to keep a lid on. But also, it felt a lot like checking off a task from a to do list: he did his due diligence as a man to have a wife and attempt a classic version of a family just like he was always expected to do (and in a lot of ways it felt like a big fuck you to his father and every one of his sneering insults).

The thing is, Matt knows in his bones that he wants someone like Sylvie Brett by his side for the rest of his life; she’s amazing, loyal, funny, understanding, everything he’d want in a partner. But in that moment Matt decides he cannot go down this road again. Sylvie is all those wonderful things and more, and she deserves a guy who wants all of her, not just the idea of her.

For a moment he thinks it’s going to work out. He gets out the cliched “it’s complicated” and is almost ready to do it, ready to own who he is right there. But the words get a little stuck and then Sylvie is filling in the blanks with all the wrong colors (and, Jesus, isn’t that familiar). Then the next thing he knows, he’s breaking Sylvie Brett’s heart exactly the way he vowed to never do. The moment is quick and messy and feels terrifyingly unsalvageable, but it’s happening, then it happened, and there’s nothing he can do about it. (He sleeps with Sydney because that’s what he does when a relationship ends: he sleeps with a stranger, always female, and does everything opposite what he did in the relationship, just to double test the theory that it really is something in him and not just around him. Sydney: sexy and funny and charming; The Theory: confirmed)

And suddenly Matt is exhausted. He’s got decades of built up secret and accumulated grief on his shoulders and he can’t move with it all weighing him down. So he just sort of stops fighting it. He puts up the token efforts with Sylvie, tells her he doesn’t regret it, that she’s still very important to him, then lets her walk away when she informs him that it can never happen again, that he is a man still in love with his ex wife. On net, she’s actually kinda half right, and he lets himself have a quiet, sardonic chuckle at that.

Matt’s got the job, his rank, his men, the city. They’re more than enough to live for, to love, to give his all. They’ve got expectations of him too, and they’re ones he can meet with an ease that doesn’t exist anywhere else in his life.

Five weeks after Matt decides he’s really only meant to be Captain Casey, he wakes up on Christie’s couch with the mother of all hangovers. He gets a solid five minutes of laying awake, nauseous and self-loathing before his older sister comes in with a steaming cup of coffee and smile more gentle than he’s ever seen her wear. She digs her hand into his shoulder and tells him about coming home from her freshman year of college for Thanksgiving.

She tells him about letting herself be dragged back to the high school stadium by friends she hadn’t quite lost touch with yet for the annual cross-town rival Turkey Bowl football game. She tells him about not watching a single moment of the game, about missing the moment when Star Quarterback John Murphy’s collar bone snapped. She tells him about becoming the most committed high school football fan in the five minutes after the ATs got John Murphy off the field, and the coach decided that what the hell, they’d finish the game anyway, that scrawny freshman Matt Casey would finally get some playing time after a whole season of sitting the bench. She tells him about flying off her seat, about going hoarse the next day from telling everyone in the stadium “that was my brother, Matt Casey, the kid who made the final point, that’s my brother.”

Matt, sitting up now, gives Christie a soft smile and mumbles that it was fluke really, that he didn’t see a second of playing time again until his junior year, that he was always more of a hockey guy. Christie reaches across him again digging her nails into his shoulders, says with the mean kind of love only older sisters are capable of, “Matthew Michael, you are not a fluke.”

A week after Matt pulls himself off Christie’s couch Sylvie tells him she is done needing space, that she misses her friend. He’s grateful for that and does his best to not be annoyed when she starts looking surprised that he isn’t ‘fighting’ for her or doing whatever charming manly bullshit he would’ve done even just a few months ago. But Matt is done fighting for things he doesn’t really want, is done fighting himself at every turn and is ready to start fighting for himself. He isn’t a fluke and one of these days he’s going to prove it.

In fact, he proves it when he goes to dinner at Stella and Kelly’s new place on a warm fall night just under a year since he was standing in the hallway of Sylvie’s apartment exhausted of himself. It’s him, Stella and Kelly of course, Sylvie but not her boyfriend, and Sam Kidd, Stella’s older brother who just moved to Chicago and is “desperate enough for friends that I’m hanging around my baby sister, I know it’s--ow, Steve, don’t hit me!”

Sam Kidd is funny and charming and tells terrific stories about a precocious preteen Stella. And after dinner when he and Matt end up alone in the kitchen having volunteered for clean up duty, Sam puts a firm hand on Matt’s shoulder and says he appreciates how Matt has looked out for his baby sister these past years, that he was skeptical of the stories Stella told him about her Captain right up until he shook Matt’s hand earlier that night. Sam readily agrees when Matt insists that Stella has never needed any looking after but his hand lingers in an appreciative squeeze on his shoulder anyway.

They walk down the block toward their cars together after seeing Sylvie safely to her Uber. When they get to Sam’s sleek black sports car (he’s in marketing and apparently very good at it), Matt is less surprised than he thought he would be when Sam crowds him against the passenger side door and sweetly asks “would it be alright if I kissed you?” (Matt says yes, to the kiss and a date, as well as a second date and third one too).

They don’t make a big announcement or anything, but they also don’t hide it. When Stella and Kelly get married in the Spring, Sam pulls Matt out onto the dance floor and holds him close right in front of everyone. For the first time in his life, Matt doesn’t mind the attention a single bit because he’s finally where he fits.

When Matt is all danced out, and Sam is cutting in to dance with his sister, Matt finds himself in the little anteroom straightening out gift bags and taking a moment to feel quietly pleased with himself. Sylvie comes in then, eyes shining to compliment the new ring on her left hand. For a moment Matt worries she’s upset with him, but then her face breaks into a soft grin and he barely catches her “oh, Matt” before he’s catching her. When they pull away from each other Matt gives her a grin of his own, one that he hopes says I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry it all got so messy but I can’t be sorry for who I am. Sylvie must understand him because she’s still grinning as she says, “you’re happy.” It’s not a question, but Matt nods anyway because finally, after years and years, it’s fully and all the way true. He’s happy.

#matt casey #sylvie brett #christie casey jordan #chicago fire #chicago fire fic #chicago fire headcanons #if i was any good at this I would've included a casey/severide moment as well #but im not so i didn't #i have it in my head tho #also stella telling a very good joke about the two of them being so codependent that they had to fall in love with people from the same fam #also i feel like sylvie isn't very flushed out in this but like it's about matt so...#she's an ally #i want that clear #sylvie is 100% team matt living his truth etc #also definitely fast friends with Sam #he calls her in a panic one day bc matt came home with his arm all bandaged and unconcerned #but sam IS concerned bc ANY amount of skin melting is too much skin melting dont come at me with a degree system matt

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the-real-tc · 3 years

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Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Chapter 23

A.N.: This chapter took way longer to churn out than I expected, and there will be another update very shortly. We're moved into Episode 713 territory now, so you know that means things are getting even closer to where they are supposed to be. Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Chance Encounter

The drive back from Moose Jaw on Tuesday was its usual eight-hour, mind-numbing slog for Tim Fleming. Shane and Miranda seemed to be doing fine without him, though something in his gut warned Tim there was something going on neither of them wished to speak of in his presence. The visit started off on a positive note. Shane excitedly asked about Pal before politely moving on to inquiring about his half-sisters. By the actual Thanksgiving Monday, Tim knew he was wearing out his welcome, as if Miranda could not wait to be rid of him. Yes, it was true they had called it quits, but there was a distant air about her that Tim could not put his finger on. When he mentioned he would like to come out in a month for the Remembrance Day holiday, he was met with a non-committal sort of answer, but not an outright "no". Shane's sullen resentment over the absence of a father-figure in his life was still brewing beneath the surface. Tim recognized the signs; he just had no idea what to do about it, especially since Miranda was apparently hedging about the next time he could visit his son. How was he supposed to be a father to Shane if he was not even permitted to see him on a regular basis?

By the time Tim reached Hudson, he was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He had half a mind to drop in at Heartland and stick around long enough to invite himself to dinner, but he was not in the mood to hear Jack complain about the sheep again, which he was sure to do. Instead, Tim pulled into the local McDonald's Drive-thru and ordered something he knew he would barely taste, but would otherwise tide him over until the next day. On Wednesday morning, Tim regretfully realised he was completely out of supplies and would need to head into town for groceries.

He was still contemplating what to do about convincing Miranda to allow him to visit again in a month's time while grabbing some steaks from a refrigerated shelf in the Deli section. Maybe the boy could come out to Heartland instead, Tim pondered. After all, Shane was still obviously interested in riding Pal. Amy and Lou would be happy to see their half-brother, of course. Tim also had a feeling Shane and Georgie would get along just fine, if given the chance.

What would he think about Tricia? Tim suddenly wondered as he mechanically loaded his groceries into his truck before starting the drive back to Big River.

What would Tricia think about Shane?

When is the right time to tell her about my "illegitimate" son?

Are we serious enough for that yet?

Those thoughts quickly fled as Tim did a double-take at the unexpected sight of an oddly familiar auburn-haired woman. She stood at the bank of green community mailboxes on the side of the rural road, unaware of his scrutiny. The presence of her nearby silver-grey Porsche SUV confirmed it: the usually blonde Lisa Stillman had returned to Hudson. Tim pulled his truck to a stop—he simply had to get the low-down on this. Lisa was the last person he expected to see here, especially after Lou bought back her share of the Dude Ranch so many months ago. Jack's continued silence on Lisa's whereabouts and the status of their relationship compelled Tim to approach. After all, Lisa was godmother to his granddaughter Katie. It would be impolite to drive past her without a word, he reasoned.

"Hey, Lisa!" he called when he was within earshot.

Her shoulders jerked slightly, causing Tim to feel slightly guilty for startling her when he caught the stunned expression on her face. She recovered in time to respond, though somewhat hesitantly. "Oh. Hi, Tim!" she called back with forced brightness. Her smile, too, was forced.

"Wow, I didn't expect to see you back in town," Tim said as he neared. "How ya been? How was France?"

"Busy. I've been really busy," she replied hastily, closing her mailbox door and snapping the lock shut before stuffing her envelopes into a side pocket. "Um, France was fine. Sorry I can't stay and chat. I just got back from dropping off my sister at the airport, and I've still got lots to do today. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment with someone in less than half an hour."

"Your sister was visiting?" Tim echoed. "Huh. That's nice. Don't think I've ever met her. The appointment wouldn't happen to be with Jack would it?"

Lisa's spirits sank at the mention of the man she loved but was avoiding. She wondered if Tim did it on purpose—honing right in on a person's vulnerable spot and then exposing it.

"Uh, no. No, I'm not meeting Jack," Lisa's voice faltered.

"Then who are you meeting?" Tim pressed.

Lisa felt cornered now. Knowing the news would eventually get out, anyway, she decided to be straight with the man. "A real estate agent," she answered testily. "I've put Fairfield on the market."

Tim's face betrayed mild surprise. Wow, he thought. She really is making that move to France permanent. "You're selling Fairfield. Whoa. Does Jack know about this?"

Lisa exhaled. "Jack knows I love France," she eventually responded as she averted her glance. "I tried to share that part of my life with him, but it didn't work. He hates France, and there's no changing that fact. It's best I make a clean break. For now, he doesn't even know I'm in Hudson, and I'd like to keep it that way, please. So don't tell him you saw me, okay?"

Despite not quite receiving a straight answer to his question, Tim nevertheless made a zipping motion across his lips. "O-kay."

"You promise you will not tell him I'm here?" Lisa said, eyeing him now with skepticism.

"I promise I will not tell Jack you're here, Lisa," Tim proclaimed, raising his hand in a Scout salute.

"Good. Thank you," she said, making her move back to the Porsche. "Now, I really have to go. Take care, Tim. 'Bye."

"Yeah, 'bye," Tim said, absently securing his hat on his head.

Without bothering to look back at him, Lisa raised a hand in a farewell gesture as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Tim called out: "But you are gonna tell him eventually, right?"

The motor roaring to life drowned out the question, causing Tim to frown. Aw, man. Something's gotta be done about those two before it's too late, he thought. I just need to figure out what.

Lisa pulled away from the mailboxes in a daze. Now that Tim had seen her, it was only a matter of time before Jack found out she was in Hudson. Of all the people I had to run into, why did it have to be Tim Fleming?! she fretted. And once Jack does find out, what will I do? Guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.

The real estate agent warned Lisa from the outset her asking-price was high, given the current slump in the market. While she knew this, it was a tactic she hoped to use to her advantage. It was intended to weed out a bulk of potential buyers who would only waste her time. Genuinely interested buyers would be savvy enough to try to negotiate a lower selling price they would both be comfortable with. Lisa was ready to play that game. Besides, if someone did agree to the initial price, the agent stood to make a fantastic commission.

There would be no way to hide the signs or the real estate listing, of course, so even if she never laid eyes on Jack, he would eventually find out about the sale. She was plagued with feelings of guilt. Was it really fair to avoid him? How difficult would it be to make a quick call to say: "Hi, I've returned to Hudson to sell the old place. Thanks for the good times we had; I'm moving to France for good."

Very difficult indeed.

Those thoughts were quickly dismissed when Lisa reached Fairfield and business concerns once again consumed her mental energies. Among those concerns was the sale of Cinders, a horse for which Lisa felt an uncommon fondness due to his resemblance to her long-ago cherished Silver. Riding Cinders out to Lookout Point every morning was part of her daily routine when in Hudson, so she was reluctant to part with the animal. I have Indigo back in Toulon for my morning ride, Lisa thought practically, knowing one fewer horse to transport to France could be good for cost-saving in the long run.

A buyer from Montana was interested; Lisa was awaiting the finalization of that sale before booking transport. Three other horses would be going to buyers in Alberta; two to British Columbia, and one to Saskatchewan. That left several other horses that might eventually need to be auctioned, including the pregnant Rhapsody. The broodmare's pregnancy and the subsequent weaning process once the foal arrived meant travel any time soon would be ill-advised, so having her remain in Canada to be sold made sense.

The clone of Fairfield Flyer—when it arrived—was still a question mark. Dan seemed overly confident it would help them make their mark once they launched their breeding business overseas. Lisa was more cautious and hesitant about the whole idea; in time, maybe she would feel differently about the situation, as her sister Rachel had predicted.

And I'm still quite angry Dan did it, Lisa realised, almost feeling her blood pressure rising just thinking about the whole mess. Why am I even still in business with him? The answer she always arrived at whenever she pondered that question was that they still made good business partners, despite their failed marriage. This time, though, Lisa wondered whether business success in partnership with Dan was a good enough reason.

I have spent more than half my life doing this, Lisa said to herself. I've achieved a lot in that time. I would like to think I have made my father proud of the 'Fairfield' name. That alone should be worth it, right? And it's like I told Rachel: the money I've earned has made it possible to realise a lot of dreams, do things I wanted to do, and see the world. But at the end of the day, I go home to an empty house. What dreams am I chasing now? I always dreamed of retiring to France. And then Jack came into my life.

Lisa reflected fondly on that day at Heartland when she encountered Jack at the Open House barbecue. Amy had just awed the crowd by showing off her work with Promise, and with the way she had risen to Val Stanton's seemingly impossible, impromptu challenge to fix the hundred-thousand-dollar horse that refused to jump.

"You're doing a really good job with her, Jack," Lisa recalled telling him. What she didn't tell him was that she had inquired discreetly about his fifteen-year-old granddaughter after being impressed by her during their first meeting at Fairfield. Since Nick Harwell had sung Amy's praises regarding her work with Star, Lisa called him up. She hoped to find out a little more about this Amy Fleming, daughter of the late Marion Fleming. She had a vague recollection hearing about Marion and Heartland since returning to Hudson from the 'States. Even so, she had at least known of the existence of 'Heartland Ranch' in the same sort of familiar way Hudsonites would know of the existence of any other ranch in the area.

"I read in the Hudson Times about Marion Fleming's passing and how Amy's grandfather is a rodeo legend," Lisa had told Nick during their conversation. "What else should I know about this family?"

"Yes, Jack Bartlett is pretty well-known for his rodeo days. And Marion... Marion was something else," Nick had stated. "And I really think Amy has the gift, too. What did you think of her?"

"It's too early to tell," Lisa had replied honestly, "but I like her spunk. I had my reservations about Promise going under the care of a fifteen-year-old, but she won some points with me. She set me straight when she told me her mother didn't 'whisper' to horses; she listened to them."

Nick had chuckled. "Whatever you want to call it, Marion sure worked magic with horses, and Amy can, too. You just have to sit back and let the magic happen."

"How is Heartland Ranch doing?" Lisa then inquired. "Are they going to be okay without Marion working with troubled horses? That was their main source of income, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," Nick replied with a sigh. "Jack does have a herd of cattle, but it's small. His adult granddaughter Lou is back in town from New York to help, but who knows how long she plans to stay... And Jack's wife, Lyndy, died a few years ago. I heard through the grapevine Amy and Lou's dad is a rodeo legend too, but he's also a total deadbeat. So now Jack has got to raise Amy by himself. It's not going to be easy for them. I do believe Amy has her mother's gift, but she's still so young to be taking on the 'family business', if you know what I mean. Jack has his work cut out for him."

"Yes, I guess he does," Lisa had remarked thoughtfully, imagining an elderly man all of a sudden saddled with a responsibility he did not anticipate in the wake of his daughter's tragic death.

To see Jack Bartlett in the flesh was a revelation. The man was nowhere near the 'elderly' grandfather Lisa had envisioned after speaking with Nick. He was tall, fit, and grizzled with irregular features, yet handsome in an unconventional way she found attractive. She would almost have guessed he was Amy's father had she not known any better. So this was the man who was taking care of his teenaged granddaughter. This was the man who had clearly taken the responsibility very seriously, and was succeeding at the task despite the burden of loss and heartbreak. This man, a salt-of-the-earth type, exuding quiet confidence and strength—this man she simply had to get to know better.

He was the first man in a very long time Lisa felt the urge to flirt with; the first man she felt comfortable sending out signals she wanted to know him on a deeper level. Their first real conversation was brief. She paid him a compliment about the burgers he was grilling up, then added she thought he was doing a great job with Amy. She mentioned her own situation with taking on her nephew following his parents' divorce. As they parted company that evening, she brushed her shoulder against his after his offer to help with Ben, hoping the message was received.

Bringing up those old memories of the weeks and months that followed the Open House was bittersweet. Back then, it was Immediately clear to Lisa that Jack was nothing remotely resembling a social butterfly. He was never at any of the parties she attended, nor was he known to folks in her Hudson social circles. She would have to ferret out what his interests were and meet him at that level if she wanted to get closer to him. Lisa would be forever grateful to Maggie for suggesting Amy have a look at the traumatized Gallant Prince, as it provided more opportunities to visit Heartland—and to see Jack.

And then I asked him to accompany me to that auction... and his truck broke down.

It was a deviation in her plan she had not expected, but rolled with it by suggesting they eat right then instead of after the sale. They discussed nothing of consequence during that interlude while they ate turkey-and-swiss sandwiches, but Lisa enjoyed every minute of it.

"Aren't you something?" Jack had asked, clearly not expecting anything like this when she told him she made coffee for him; that she had planned a picnic treat from the very beginning.

The early fall weather was pleasant, a soft breeze fluttering through the leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She seldom had a chance to pause like this, sitting in the company of just one other person, undisturbed by the rest of the world. He complimented her on the coffee, subtly making her realise he had strong opinions about the beverage. Time slipped away much too quickly. After a particularly long stretch of silence between them after the last of the coffee had been drunk, Jack finally spoke up: "Well, I guess I should probably see if that old truck of mine is ready to start. Can't have you missing that auction, can we?"

Reluctantly, they tidied up and trekked back to the stalled vehicle. It started without complaint, bearing them safely to High River for the auction. Lisa mentally skipped over the part when they encountered Dan, knowing what she knew now about how he had the temerity to tell Jack she was still his wife. Lisa remembered her acute disappointment upon discovering Jack had abandoned her there without a word. Something about that scenario did not sit right with her, as she was quite certain he had enjoyed their picnic.

Perhaps another woman might have dismissed him for that perceived slight, Lisa reasoned, but I knew I couldn't let him go that easily. Fortunately, a good friend she ran into at the close of the auction was willing to give her a lift to Heartland so she could retrieve her Porsche. At the time, she was tempted to knock on Jack's door to demand an explanation, but something told her that would be the wrong move. Let this thing play out, she remembered thinking. Let him come to you when he's ready.

And the explanation did come out, confirming for Lisa she made the right choice by not blowing the situation out of proportion, though she had every right to be upset. Handling it with a dose of humour had de-escalated what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. After all, Dan had just sourly peeled out of Heartland, having been told off by Jack, and after being rebuffed by Lisa.

"Well, since men keep driving away on me, would you mind driving me home in your truck, please?" she remembered asking with a smile and a good-natured chuckle. Of course Jack had not minded one bit. She had noticed the look of gradual, earnest relief on his face once he realised she was not married to Dan any longer; that she had not been playing with his emotions or leading him on.

"Jack, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding with my EX-husband," she said contritely during that ride back to Fairfield. "He had no right to do that, and I want to make it very clear I—"

And he had broken in gently then, telling her she had no need to apologize; that he was the one that needed to do the apologizing for abandoning her at the auction.

"Hmm," she had said playfully. "I suppose you have a plan in mind about how you're going to make it up to me?"

"Well, as a matter of fact... I was wondering..."

After a few seconds of tense silence, he had asked if he could have the pleasure of her company at his private cabin in a few weeks' time. She could tell it took some effort on his part to ask the question, but she readily accepted his invitation to try a little fly fishing, despite the lateness of the season, as he told her.

"I would love to, Jack," she had replied, grinning from ear to ear, thinking this reconciliation had gone miles better than she hoped.

Maggie had helped her pick out all the requisite equipment after she realised she would actually need hip waders and rods for the date. Expensive hobby, she remembered thinking when her friend rang up all the purchases at the cash register.

"I'd better catch something, huh?" she had ruefully asked.

"I think you already did," Maggie had quipped.

At the time, the meaning of those words had not been lost on Lisa. Now, after all the time since those early days when they were still practically strangers, Lisa wondered if he was still on the line, or if Jack had pulled loose. Severed from her life, he would be pulled away from her shore, lost to the currents of the passing world.

Despite never using the equipment again since that first date, Lisa had never availed herself of Maggie's promise of a refund.

I always hoped we would go fishing together again, Lisa mused. Why is it we never did? Maybe it's high time I got rid of all that stuff; I certainly won't be doing much fly fishing in France.

Lisa shook her head slightly, knowing she had to cease thinking about such matters and concentrate instead on getting her Fairfield business in order. As if on cue, her office line rang, its call display revealing a Montana area code.

Looks like I have an answer about Cinders, she rightly guessed.

"Lisa, hi! It's Wayne Mosley. I'll make this call short and sweet: We have a deal on your horse. I can have the funds wired to you today."

"That's great, Wayne," Lisa replied, squelching the sentiment that unexpectedly sprang up at the thought she was really going to be parting with the animal for good. "I can get transport booked for Cinders as early as Sunday."

"Perfect. Thanks, Lisa."

"You're welcome. Glad we were able to work something out."

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you. Take care. 'Bye."

"Likewise, Wayne. 'Bye."

Lightning almost as bright as day flashed, visible even through Lisa's closed eyelids. That alone might have been enough to awaken her, but the following crash of ear-splitting thunder made it impossible to remain in the land of dreams.

Lisa rolled over in bed, gradually becoming aware of the fact of the storm raging outside. When she cracked open an eye to check the time on the bedside digital clock, she could barely make out a blank display screen.

Have we lost power? she wondered groggily. Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the bedroom. Her ears picked up on the wind-driven rains beating against the windowpanes. A quick glance outside confirmed Hudson had indeed lost power. Seconds later, the Fairfield generators kicked in, bringing to life the security lights outside. The numbers on the clock now blinked '12:00' a.m. in a rhythmic pattern, its green glow a slight irritant.

With a sigh, Lisa let her head fall back onto one of the many the pillows scattered about the mattress. Installing those generators had come at some expense, but she was grateful for them now and in times past when an outage occurred. She listened to the sounds of the storm, unable to fall back asleep quite yet. Some of the horses in the stables would be restless, and she wondered if Rhapsody was okay, given her expectant state.

Harry and the rest of the hands are going to be dealing with a few grumpy, skittish equines in the morning, she thought as she finally sat up to re-set the time on the clock after consulting her iPhone.

The lightning flashes were less frequent now; the answering thunder a distant rumble. The storm was either moving on or its intensity petering out.

Oh, no. Things are going to be a mess out there tomorrow, this new thought entered her mind, as it dawned on her the power loss was probably caused by downed tree branches. The trees around Fairfield were never spared damage in such instances in the past. The real estate agent would expect the property to be in pristine condition if there were going to be any showings.

Better call the landscaping company first thing... It was the last thought she remembered thinking before drifting off again.

Clean-up the morning after the storm that knocked out power at Heartland occupied a fair chunk of the Bartlett-Fleming-Morris family's time. Branches lay haphazardly about the yard. Piles of scattered leaves and twigs littered the ground, blown off by the earlier violent winds.

Tim pulled up in his truck uncharacteristically early to lend a hand, though he certainly had ulterior motives. Lisa made me promise not to tell Jack she was back in town. She didn't make me promise not to tell anyone else, though... He approached Amy, hoping to determine if Jack was wise to the situation of Lisa's return to Hudson.

"Guess who I saw in town yesterday?" he asked his daughter, unable to keep a lid on the information bubbling up to the surface.

The surprise that registered on Amy's face told him everything: Poor Jack was clueless.

Lisa's backside smarted. That's going to leave a bruise, she thought ruefully as she checked herself over for any other potential injuries after being unceremoniously dumped to the damp ground by Cinders. But no, every other part of her body seemed just fine. No broken bones or sprains, thank God. That's the last thing I would need right now just as I'm trying to get things sorted out at Fairfield. Now where has that horse trotted off to, and what the heck happened?

Lisa's brow creased as she recalled a sudden uncomfortable, intense buzzing sensation right before being tossed from the saddle. Her eyes sought and quickly spotted something that confirmed a dim suspicion: a downed tree tangled up with the line from an electrical fence erected around the slough Cinders had stepped into.

So that's what that shock was, Lisa realised.

"Cinders!" she called, hoping the sound of her voice would bring the horse back. It was usually an exercise in futility; Cinders was not trained to come when beckoned as a pet dog might. A careful inspection of the sod around her revealed hoof prints.

I hope that horse hasn't gone too far, Lisa thought in irritation. In truth, she was more annoyed at herself for not noticing the downed line. Fortunately, she spotted the dappled grey horse not too far away, pulling at some vegetation.

"Hey, you," Lisa softly chided as she approached him with deliberate caution. "What was that all about? Did you get spooked by that silly electric fence?"

Cinders seemed to bristle slightly when she neared, but he did not refuse when she took hold of his bridle. "Let's go home, huh?" she said, placing her right foot into the stirrup to mount up. With a squeeze of her calves, Lisa cued the horse to begin the return the way they came. Ahead, she could see the muddy banks of the slough along with the energizer and tangle of electrical wiring and branches.

Everything about the ride seemed normal until they were a few feet away from the water. Cinders stiffened as soon as he sighted the pond, stopping dead in his tracks. He balked when Lisa urged him on again; a snort of terror issued from his nostrils before he reared up in protest.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lisa called out, barely avoiding another fall as she regained her balance. "What's the matter with you?"

Without being commanded to do so, the horse backed away, giving his head a few contrary shakes.

"Come on, Cinders," Lisa coaxed, applying more pressure to his sides with her legs. She clicked her tongue loudly twice. The horse eventually got the idea, and he sidestepped the muddy bank, pacing off to the right, giving the slough a wide berth.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Scott," Lisa said.

"You've always been one of my best clients, Lisa," Scott commented warmly. "Happy to be of service. I was surprised to hear from you, to be honest; I haven't had a call from Fairfield in months."

"I know," she said vaguely, "being in France and all meant I wasn't as hands-on here as I have been in the past."

At that moment, Ty ambled in to the holding area. If he was surprised to see her there, he hid the emotion well. "Hi, Lisa," he said casually, as if this were any other normal visit.

"Hello, Ty," she answered back with a wan smile. Kicking herself mentally, she now knew she should have counted on the possibility Ty would be on duty at the clinic today. Oh, shoot. First Tim; now Ty. It's going to be impossible to keep my being in Hudson from Jack.

"I noticed the 'For Sale' signs up at Fairfield," Scott continued. "Don't tell me you're thinking of leaving us for good?"

Lisa bobbed her head, still wary of Ty's presence. "Yeah, I've had a good run here," she replied. "I'm looking at a new opportunity in Avignon."

With that short answer, both Scott and Ty understood she was not going to say anything more on the topic.

"So what's going on with this guy?" Scott asked, looking now at the horse. "You said something about an electrical fence?"

"Uh, yes," Lisa spoke up, re-organizing her thoughts to focus on the reason for her hasty appointment. "Meet Cinders."

The horse's level of agitation had come down since the earlier ride, but Lisa caught subtle cues that told a different story, making it clear to her Cinders was not over the sudden electrical shock they had experienced at the slough. She explained the whole episode while Scott examined the animal, inviting Ty to do the same as a learning exercise.

Presently, Scott declared: "In my medical opinion, there's nothing wrong with him physically, Lisa."

"That's good," Lisa said in relief. She rubbed Cinders' forehead. "It's just that he now absolutely refuses to go near water, Scott. The shock was pretty intense. Even I felt it right before I ended up on my butt. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to get zapped every time he steps into a puddle."

"I wish there was a magic pill I could give him to cure aquaphobia," Scott said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I know," Lisa sighed. "I just sold him yesterday to a guy in Montana. He's being shipped out on Sunday. I can't sell a 'defective' product."

"Want me to ask Amy if she can take the case?" Ty interjected, sympathetic to her situation.

Lisa contemplated. Involving Amy came with a risk. If Jack found out... She was grateful Ty had not asked any prying questions, seemingly aware the topic of her reappearance was verboten, but his suggestion was her best chance at fixing the problem.

"Okay," she eventually replied. "But could you—could you please tell her to keep it confidential...? Jack doesn't know I'm back, and I mean to keep it that way."

Ty nodded at her with understanding; Scott looked at her quizzically, but wisely held his tongue.

"Thanks," she said, blowing out a breath. "I hope she can figure him out before Sunday. But then again, she's always come through for me in the past. Go ahead, Ty. He's all yours."

"I'll get Cinders trailered out to Heartland right away," Ty said, taking hold of the lead rope.

Once Ty was safely on the way back to Heartland, Lisa carried on with some additional errands. As she drove, she came to the conclusion she was simply prolonging the inevitable. Even though I've sworn Scott, Ty and Tim to secrecy, walls have ears. Jack's going to know I'm here before the day is done, guaranteed.

Jack's sleep had been restive and uneasy. Katie's fright over the storm in addition to her irritability at missing Lou had not made for a peaceful night. Pete had sheepishly apologized for the toddler's cries, but the older man sympathized. He had been through those same parenting woes when Marion had been a baby, though he had admittedly missed months at a time of her growing up due to being on the rodeo circuit.

As Jack drove out to the town Yard Waste and Recycle Centre to deposit their dead branches and leaf sweepings, he wondered what his grandson-in-law was going to do if Katie continued to regress in her potty-training regimen. Clearly, these new parents had not counted on a lengthy separation between child and mother during this crucial time. Pete was doing his best, but it seemed not to be enough at this time.

He was still pondering this problem on his return trip to Heartland, slowly coming to the realisation there might not be any easy solutions. He was so engrossed in this mental exercise he had a double-take when he spotted a woman he thought he recognized on the side of the road.

Lisa?! he thought in a daze. It can't be.

But his eyes were not deceiving him. This was no case of mistaken identity as in times past when he thought he saw her in town. This was his old flame, quietly checking her mail like any other person. Only she was not any other person. She was the one who somehow managed to slip through his fingers. A subtle heat burned in his chest as he brought the truck to a slow roll before setting the brake.

Lisa is back. What is she doing here? Why is she back? Lisa is here.

Jack very nearly stumbled over his two feet on his approach. He could tell she heard his footsteps though he was trying to be stealthy.

"Hi, Lisa," he uttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been presented with this unexpected opportunity to talk with her.

She looked up almost guiltily at him.

Busted, Lisa thought. Here I am, trying to avoid Jack this whole time, and he has to spot me getting the mail. How silly is that?

Yet, her heart swelled at the sight of this cowboy, dressed as usual in his boots, jeans, plaid-patterned shirt, coat and hat. He looks healthy. I'm so glad. And now that she had seen him, every word she had once hoped to speak to him fled from her mind, leaving her tongue-tied. Her first instinct was to bolt from the scene rather than try to explain why she had not told him she was in Hudson. That same reticence seemed to be reflected in Jack's eyes; this unplanned encounter thoroughly throwing them both into an state of confusion.

They both mouthed meaningless words to each other, clumsily working through some semblance of a conversation that lasted less than a minute. Twin coals that once burned as one had turned stone cold, the former lovers behaving more like passing acquaintances. Absent from this meeting was any sense of excitement or jubilation; no crushing embrace or feverish kiss.

Jack's heart sank perceptibly when Lisa admitted she had been back for maybe a week—and that she was selling Fairfield.

"Well, I guess that was always the plan, wasn't it?" he spoke with an air of indifference, despite the chill brought on by the revelation. Yes, you always said you wanted to retire to France, Lisa. I never figured it would be so soon; and not without telling me, first.

Rather than prolong the sheer awkwardness of the encounter, Lisa excused herself, claiming—truthfully—she had a busy schedule to keep.

"'Bye'," she said, before turning to climb into the SUV.

"'Bye'," Jack managed to articulate, a lump forming in his throat watching her hasty retreat.

No "See you later" or "Let's catch up soon", and certainly not anything close to "I'm ready to make up".

Jack looked on a second or two while Lisa drove away, struck by the memory of another similar departure over a year prior, the one that had come as a sort of coda to their "break". Attempts had been made back then to repair that break; circumstances had not been in their favour.

"Not goodbye," he had corrected her at the time, a sad smile creasing his face. He remembered being heartsick at the prospect of suffering another lengthy separation from her, especially when their relationship was still so fractured.

"'til next time," she had repeated, her eyes misting, almost as if she sensed it could very well be the last time they ever saw each other.

The fact it almost was the last time they ever saw each other was not lost on Jack. His brush with death brought her rushing back. Now, he considered something new: Would she ever have come back if I had not had the heart attack? She did write that letter... But no. Just as swiftly as she had arrived, she had left him.

And now she's driving away again. For a fleeting moment he entertained the notion of chasing her down. No, that would be foolish, Jack thought, idly scratching the side of his face. She gave no indication she was happy to see me; let it go. That whole meeting went over like a lead balloon. Dejected, he paced back to his truck, trying to stem the flood of old memories of happier times with Lisa.

We're driving off in opposite directions. I'm going to Heartland, and she's going to Fairfield. She's selling Fairfield. I must have missed the realtor's signs, somehow. Jack knew how he had missed them, however, as he had taken to deliberately avoiding looking at Lisa's property any time his course took him along the stretch of road bordering it.

He could not help but remember the first time he had seen Fairfield up close. I was driving Lisa back after I told off that jerk of an ex-husband of hers. I was so happy that she still wanted to talk to me after leaving her stranded at the auction. She's so forgiving. Why did she give me a second chance? She accepted my apology so easily. I thought I had blown it.

His brain had been spinning at top speed throughout that drive, reaching for some way of asking her out on an honest-to-goodness date, but could think of no simple way to bring up the subject. Thank goodness she had provided an opening when she playfully asked if he had a plan in mind about how he was going to make it up to her. He had always felt comfortable and relaxed at his cabin, so before he even knew what he was saying, he asked if she was free to go fly fishing with him in a few weeks.

"Well, as a matter of fact... I do have something in mind about how to make it up to you..."

And she said "yes" so quickly, I almost couldn't believe my ears. What was I thinking asking a woman like Lisa out to a ratty old fishing cabin for a date?

Presently, Jack pulled back into Heartland. The sun was starting to go down, splashing golden rays across the open fields, highlighting the tops of the trees. He noticed Amy and Georgie in the jumping pen; the former taking a new horse around the course over what looked like empty liverpools. Heart and feet heavy, he dragged himself onto the porch and sank heavily into the bench, mind still full of that first date with her.

"To whatever it is," she had toasted them, a spark of warmth bursting in those blue eyes he already loved so dearly.

Whatever it was, Jack now thought with a doleful shake of his head. She didn't even tell me she was back in Hudson. After all we've been through, she didn't see it fit to tell me she was selling Fairfield. I deserved that much at least, didn't I?

But the more he tried to take umbrage at Lisa's lack of communication this time around, the more he was convicted of his own behaviour the last time they were together. She doesn't want anything to do with me after that falling out we had over that ridiculous hospital bed. The spark in her eyes was gone today. I never thought those eyes could look so cold... And sad.

It tormented him to know he was the proximate cause of that sadness and cold, impersonal reception.

Of all the dumb luck. I can't believe after all that avoidance, I had to run into Jack at the mailboxes. Lisa replayed that disappointing encounter, analysing each careless word spoken, wondering what she might have done differently. I honestly have no idea how to interpret how that went down back there, she thought. I don't know how to read that expression on Jack's face. Was he happy to see me? He didn't sound like it. And he certainly didn't sound surprised when I told him I was selling my place. What did I expect, anyway? That he would break down and beg me to stay? Oh, no. That's not Jack Bartlett's style. In fact, I have no idea at all what he was thinking. It's like we were almost strangers by the way we talked.

Lisa pulled onto the access road to Fairfield, flashing by the 'For Sale' sign. Her heart throbbed after concluding that might very well have been the last time she ever saw Jack. What a sour note to end things on, she mused bitterly. What a wasted opportunity.

Business concerns soon took over once again as she was obliged to inspect the clean-up job done by the landscaping company. Everything looked ship-shape; Fairfield would be more than ready for prospective buyers the realtor wished to bring for a viewing.

Out of nowhere, a distant memory of Val Stanton's mocking voice surfaced. "So, you'll be living at Fairfield, then?"

Lisa paused in her tracks, swept up in the residual irritation of that long-ago exchange. "Jack did hit the jackpot, didn't he?" Val had teased, though she seemed to know she was poking at one of Lisa's private insecurities. "I'm sure you'll have an ironclad pre-nup."

Val's thinly veiled antagonism stirred up feelings of resentment now. Jack and Lisa's hasty engagement was over just as quickly as it had begun, all because they truly had not seriously considered how their lives would come together in a practical sense. Oh, we had the romantic side figured out, Lisa acknowledged, but now even that's gone. No engagement, no marriage. We'll never be together at Fairfield now, and we certainly won't ever have France. Our relationship is officially road-kill, and I'll bet Val the Vulture is still lurking around, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

Next Chapter: Chapter 24: Things I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You

#Heartland #Heartland fanfiction #My Fanfiction #wide river to cross #Chapter 23 #Chance Encounter #Jack Bartlett #Lisa Stillman #JISA #Tim Fleming #Amy Fleming #Ty Borden #Scott Cardinal #Val Stanton #Maggie Duval #Nick Harwell #Fairfield Stables #Cinders

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cycat4077 · 4 years

Text

Three Weeks In

So, I’m writing a series. Cute, fluffy ideas kept popping into my head and rather than making a new character/backstory for each one-shot, I decided to keep the universe I set up in Changes which is basically all the canon-SVU events but Sonny has a loving relationship behind the scenes. Let’s face it, the boy deserves happiness. It’s not necessary to read my other story first unless you want the backstory of the reader character and how they got together with Sonny. I’ll try to keep things chronological and weave in SVU events if I can. My OCD is forcing me to make sure the dates are all correct (ex: Sonny can’t be with the reader if he’s supposed to be upstate investigating a lead.) So tah-dah! I present thee with the second installment of the “Changes” series which is set immediately after 17x09, Depravity Standard, and begins on Nov 23rd 2015 (the day before Thanksgiving). It may be crap, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Words: 2296 Warnings: none Pairing: Sonny x Reader Summary: Three weeks into dating Sonny and he already wants you to meet his family… AO3 here

Some days you actually have to pinch yourself as a reminder that your life is real. It’s been three weeks since Sonny showed up to your class. Three weeks since the two of you confessed your feelings. And three weeks of dating Sonny. While your schedules didn’t allow for a lot of one-on-one time, the two of you keep in touch and steal away for dinner whenever you can.

A steady beeping sound rouses you from your sleep and you roll over to shut off your alarm. The sun is starting to peek through the curtains, signalling a new day. Glancing at your phone screen, you smile.

Mornin’, doll. Have a great day! Talk to you later xoxo

Everyday you wake up to a text from Sonny and, though a seemingly small gesture, your heart aches in the best possible way from knowing he cares. You unplug the device and lay back in bed, phone perched on your chest.

Morning, Sonny. Hope you have a great day too and stay safe! xoxo

As you hit send, you imagine him smiling at his desk when the message comes in. You get ready for class and head out, a spring in your step while you journey to campus. Sonny texts you back around lunchtime with a message saying that he should be free tonight. He asks if you’d be up for having dinner and you eagerly accept. That evening you put on a nice outfit, fix your hair and set out to meet your date at a nearby restaurant. But SVU work can be unpredictable. You were made very aware of that during your summer there. One day could be quiet while the next could be so busy that you didn’t know whether the detectives were coming or going. So understandably, this line of work would sometimes force Sonny to be late. Nevertheless, if he was, he would apologize profusely and you would always reassure him that you understood. Tonight however, as you wait alone inside the restaurant lobby, Sonny is later than he’s ever been before. Not only that, but he hasn’t even sent you a message to confirm that he was caught up. His silence has you worried. You crane your neck towards the door once more before sending him a quick text:

Hey. Hope everything is okay.

Not a moment later your phone vibrates.

Shit. Sorry, doll. I’ll be there in 15.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing he’s safe but then your gut knots when the alternative creeps into your mind. Restaurant patrons pass you by and the hostess keeps glaring while you’re standing there. They’ve seen it all before: a girl left waiting for a date who doesn’t show. You look up and let out a shaky sigh, hoping that Sonny hadn’t simply forgotten you. Practically 15 minutes on the nose from his text, a rather frantic looking Sonny comes barreling through the restaurant door. His winter jacket is unbuttoned and you can see his badge still clipped to his suit underneath. He hasn’t had time to change. “Hey,” he breathes out with apologetic eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shoulda texted you. It’s just Rollins -” Sonny takes a breath, chest heaving. He must have ran here. “She had a scare today. There were complications with her labor. Luckily, she made it though n’ delivered a healthy baby girl, but Lieu and I stayed there with her for a while. She’s gettin’ some rest now and Fin is gonna check up on her later.” Immediately you flood with relief. “I’m glad she and the baby are alright,” you say, “and I’m glad nothing had happened to you either.” “You dunno know how sorry I am for not lettin’ you know what was goin’ on. I shoulda texted. But things got hectic and we were all pretty worried about her…” “Sonny,” you cut off his rambling and force him to meet your eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Like I said, I’m glad Rollins is fine and I’m also glad she wasn’t alone through all this.” Sonny looks back at you and takes a breath. Your words seem to calm him right down. He smiles. “You’re amazin’.” You blush. “Back at you, but I’m starved.” He chuckles and the two of you approach the hostess. She grabs your menus but rolls her eyes as she turns to lead you to your table. She seats you at a little booth in the corner, Sonny taking your coat before you sit down. You braved wearing a knee-length dress despite the November weather and are rewarded by an expression of awe from Sonny when he sees it. “You look beautiful, doll,” he compliments, drinking you in. “And here I am, lookin’ shabby in comparison.” A little tired, yes. But shabby? Never. Sonny’s dark hair is still combed back and he’s wearing a tasteful burgundy tie over a white pinstripe shirt. You lean in and peck him on the cheek. “You always look handsome to me.” The two of you order and share a drink, happy to finally be catching up. “Shadowin’ Barba was fantastic!” exclaims Sonny through a mouthful of bread. “He’s so polished in his delivery n’ so sharp at findin’ the littlest things to drive it all home to the jury!” “Fanboy alert!” you joke. “Guilty!” he grins, raising his fork in surrender. “But I learn so much from him and it gives me new ideas for doin’ my written assignments.” “I’m happy for you, Sonny. You work so hard and you deserve every ounce of success you earn.” You truly can’t help the pride you feel for him. “Aww, thanks, doll. That means a lot.” Sonny gazes at you with the utmost affection and you nearly melt in your seat. “Say, what’s new with you? Anythin’ excitin’ in the ol’ biology class?” “Same old, same old,” you shrug. “Just gave the second midterm back to the students, so I expect a lot of office visits from them on Monday.” “You don’t have ta work or take emails over the holiday, do ya?” asks Sonny, pushing food around his plate absentmindedly. “Nope. Why?” You sense there’s something more to his inquiry. “Well, I was wonderin’…now, I know it’s short notice ‘cause I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to get off myself, but I was wonderin’ if…if you’d like to spend Thanksgiving with me at my parents’ place?” Sonny looks up. It’s the most hopeful expression you’ve ever seen on him. “I..uh…” you’re lost for words. You want to scream out ’YES!’ at the top of your lungs but at the same time it’s not that easy. “Sonny, that’s t-tomorrow. And it’s also your family time. I wouldn’t want to intrude on them.” “You wouldn’t be intrudin’! My ma’s been askin’ to meet my girlfriend n’ even said to ’make sure you bring her over for Thanksgiving’.” Your voice goes quiet. “I’m your…g-girlfriend?” The word floors you. Most guys don’t want to dive head first into labeling relationships, especially not after only three weeks. But here is Sonny Carisi, happily calling you his girlfriend and wanting you to meet his family. “Yeah, of course doll,” he answers a little perplexed. “We’re datin’ aren’t we?” Sonny fixes his gaze on you, trying to read what you’re feeling. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. “Yes, y-yes. It’s just that…Never mind. I’d love to spend Thanksgiving with your family!” An uncontrolled smile spreads across your face and you’re pretty sure it makes you look like a complete dork. If it does, Sonny doesn’t point it out, but instead reaches across the table to hold your hand. He too is smiling from ear to ear like you’ve made him the happiest man alive. Suddenly your smile drops. “What?” questions Sonny. “What time will you be heading out tomorrow?” “Uh, well, I was thinkin’ we could get there for ‘round four o'clock. Time enough to introduce ya to everyone before we eat?” “Four?! That doesn’t give me much time to make anything!” you gulp. “Make somethin’? Doll, my mother wouldn’t want you to bring anythin’. Believe me, she cooks for a small army.” “Sonny. You can’t show up to someone’s house for dinner empty handed.” Sonny opens his mouth to argue, but you shush him instead. “How many people are gonna be there?” Conceding, he sets down his utensils, freeing his hands to count. “Well, there’s gonna be mom, dad, me, you, Bella n’ Tommy. Their little one doesn’t eat the good stuff yet, so I won’t count her.” Sonny unfolds that finger. “Then there’s Resa and Mia and Gina. Maybe a plus one for Gina, but who the hell knows with her.” Looking down at his two hands, he raises them to show you. “Should be nine altogether.” Good to know because you were going to be up early the next morning baking. -x- You don’t realize your knee is bouncing until Sonny reaches over and places a warm hand on it. “Don’t be nervous, doll. My family is gonna love you.” You turn your head towards him, flashing a weak smile. Sitting in idle traffic is only making your nerves worse. “Trust me. Besides, ya even baked fresh bread rolls on short notice. They’re gonna disown me and keep you instead.” Sonny taps your knee reassuringly before returning his hand to the steering wheel. The Carisis live in a quaint little suburban house complete with a petite yard and front porch stoop. It seems small for a family of six, yet still cozy and welcoming. You can’t imagine Sonny growing up anywhere else. Sonny leads you up the steps and knocks on the door. It instantly flies open and a short woman with grey hair greets the two of you with open arms. “Sonny!” she coos, scooping her boy in for a hug. Sonny plants his mother a kiss before introducing you. “Hellooo! Welcome, hon,” exclaims Mrs. Carisi as she ushers you into her home. The place smells delectable. If someone asked you describe the scent of Thanksgiving, you would say ‘the Carisi household’. “I’m so happy you could make it! Y'know, Sonny has told me so much about ya and I’m glad that boy finally got the nerve to - ” “Ma!” blurts Sonny, flashing his mother a warning look. Sonny must have spent those months apart dwelling over you, just as you had done over him. “What?! It’s true, honey,” defends the Carisi matriarch before turning back to you. “Whateva. You just make yourself at home dear. We’re all family here.” “Thank you, Mrs. Carisi,” you say sincerely. You’d never been so instantly accepted by another family. After sharing a hug with Sonny’s mother, you are swarmed by the rest of the Carisis. Sonny introduces you to his father first, who gives you a solid nod. Next is Bella, bouncing a tiny infant with Tommy by her side. Theresa and a shy Mia chime in a ‘hello’ before a solo Gina caps off the meet-and-greet. Mrs. Carisi is over the moon when you hand over your baking and the bread rolls end up being a major success. In true Italian fashion, the Thanksgiving spread is full of flavor with Sonny’s mother sparing no expense in variety or quantity. Everyone joins in saying grace before dinner and, though not a common practice in your house growing up, you don’t mind linking hands with Sonny and Gina while Mr. Carisi leads the family in giving thanks. Because you do have a lot to be thankful for: a great job, an incredible boyfriend and now a whole new family to spend time with. The rest of the meal is occupied by sharing in conversation, fond memories and laughter. You find it all sort of surreal. During the summer Sonny had entertained you with tales of this very family: How they could get on one another’s nerves but that at the end of the day still loved each other. And this is exactly what you see before you. Maybe it’s a light buzz from the wine, but you feel all warm and fuzzy as the chatter of the Carisis surround you. Eventually the evening winds down and everyone seems to be groaning over how full their tummies are. You know you’ve eaten too much but wouldn’t have it any other way. “The food was absolutely delicious, Mrs. Carisi. Thank you all for having me,” you say appreciatively, looking at everyone in turn. “Our pleasure, hon,” smiles Sonny’s mother sweetly. “Know that you’re welcome here anytime.” She clasps your hands in hers and gives them a few quick pats. You say your reluctant goodbyes before you and Sonny head to his car. Once inside, he looks at you. “So?” “Your family is wonderful, Sonny and I had a great time.” This makes him flush with pride. “Glad to hear it, doll. Sometimes they can be a bit much, but they mean well.” He turns the key in the ignition and his car grumbles to life. The two of you wave as he backs out of the driveway. Once you’re cruising down Arden avenue, Sonny pipes up again. “Y'don’t have any more of them rolls, do ya? I didn’t know you were such a good cook.” You let out a laugh. “I’m not that good. For every two-dozen there’s about a dozen that come out flat and ugly. But if you’re indifferent to what they look like, then I can hook you up with the rejects.” You wink just as the car passes beneath the glow of a streetlamp in hopes Sonny will catch it. He grins. “I don’t mind. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to walk ya to your door 'n steal a kiss goodnight.”

-x-

I have a bunch of ideas planned, the next being x-mas (wrong time of year, I know) but I just have to check dates from the episodes. Let me know if you’d be interested in more of these stories and any feedback would be loved!

Next part here!

#Sonny Carisi x Reader #Sonny x Reader #Sonny Carisi #Sonnyshine of my life #The Carisis #svu fanfic #law and order svu #my fanfic #Three Weeks In #SVU 17x09 #Depravity Standard #The Changes verse

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filmfanatic82 · 4 years

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AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 11

“But nothing is better, sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

Let's just let it go

Let me let you go

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that”

-- When the Party’s Over, Billie Eilish

__________

“Okay, so it’s definitely not Kaleb,” Hope says with a strong exhale of air as she sits down next to Penelope on the main hall staircase a short while later.

Penelope stops twirling the paperback copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and looks over at Hope. “You sure?”

“1000%. I had to spend a good thirty minutes explaining what a cardigan even was to him… Any luck with Pedro?”

“Nope. The boy hasn’t heard anything. Promised to keep his eyes and ears peeled, though, just in case.”

“And you trust he won’t mention that we’re looking for it?” Hope asks with a quirk of her brow.

“Yup. His lips are sealed. Bribed him with half a dozen comic books and fifty bucks,” Penelope offers up.

“Comic books?”

“MG. Told him I needed them as collateral.” Penelope pauses for a moment to run her hands through her messy locks and tucks a few loose strands behind her ears. “Promised I’d replace them as soon as I could. Just add that to things I need to do if we survive the next few days.”

“Have you ever even stepped foot in a comic book store?”

“What’d you think?” Penelope replies.

“I think MG might as well kiss those comics goodbye,” Hope says with a light laugh.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Furball.” Penelope starts to twirl the book once again, channeling all of her pent up anxiety and nerves into the mundane action. “Also talked with Raf, Jed, Emma, and that pack of freshman witches that like to follow me around. Nothing from any of them.”

“Who’s left?” Hope asks in earnest which only causes Penelope to answer with a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look. “What?”

“I’ll give you two guesses.”

“Fuck.” Hopes slumps down further onto the steps as the realization hits her dead on. “You don’t think…”

“No clue… I mean it’s possible. But it’s also possible that a 6th-century possessed gargoyle did it as well. So who knows?”

“Not possible.”

“Huh?”

“The gargoyle. It’s not possible. They can be enchanted but can’t outright perform magic on their own. So it’s not a gargoyle.”

Penelope gives a hard roll of her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“You’re the one that brought up a gargoyle, not me.”

“I was being facetious, Hope,” Penelope fires back with a slightly heightened level of annoyance. Hope senses the tension radiating off of Penelope and without another word, wraps her arm around the raven-haired girl.

“Hey. I told you already. We’ll find the sweater, okay?”

“What if it’s Josie?” The question hanging in the air between them for a moment or two, neither one quite ready to fully embrace that reality.

“Or it could be Lizzie,” Hope says back with a shrug. “It’s a fifty fifty, right?”

“Liz I can deal with, but Josie…” Penelope trails off as her fingers drift upwards towards her neck.

“Then we’ll divide and conquer. You take Lizzie and I’ll take Josie.” Hope glances down at her watch. “It’s almost 8 pm now. Best place to start is their dorm room. I can head there now while you check the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?”

A noticeable blush spreads across Hope’s cheeks. “Lizzie usually likes to grab a bag of those kettle chips that Alaric stocks in the pantry before heading up to bed.”

The tension slightly dissipates from Penelope as she can’t help but laugh. “Stalker much?”

“Not a stalker,” Hope says, regaining her composure. “I’ve just run into her while grabbing a late-night snack for myself once or twice before. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Penelope hums unconvincingly.

Now it’s Hope’s turn to roll her eyes. She unwraps herself from Penelope, giving her a hard but playful shove in the shoulder as she does and then rises to her feet. “God, are you always this annoying?”

Penelope doesn’t respond. Instead, she rises up as well and flashes Hope one of her trademark smirks. “Meet back here in thirty?”

“Thirty it is,” Hope starts to head up the staircase, but suddenly stops halfway. “And don’t go and do anything stupid, Park. Cause I’m not quite in the mood to save your ass tonight.”

“I make no promises, Mikaelson.”

__________

Penelope aimlessly wanders down the desolate hallway lost within her own sea of thoughts.

There had been no signs of Lizzie-- no anyone else for the matter-- in kitchen. Nor the dining hall. Or even the secret teachers’ pantry that no one is supposed to know about.

Not a soul to be found anywhere.

But that’s what’s to be expected late on a Sunday evening at the Salvatore School. A dead quiet campus. Students tucked away within their dorms, either already fast asleep or in the process of going to bed.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

And that’s what makes Penelope’s skin crawl.

It’s too normal.

Like an eerie stillness before a storm.

“Hello, Satan,” Lizzie’s voice cuts through the silence sending an instant set of chills running down Penelope’s spine. She stops dead in her tracks and slowly turns around to find Lizzie standing at the other end of the hallway. The blonde-haired siphoner locks eyes with Penelope as her face contorts into a sick smirk of satisfaction.

And then, Penelope sees it.

The yellow sweater.

Josie’s yellow sweater.

It dangles limp and lifeless from Lizzie’s hand, almost irreconcilable in the darken, moonlit shadows except for its Salvatore School patch partway peeling off of the threadbare fabric.

“Missing something?” Lizzie asks raising the sweater ever so slightly as she does. A wave of gut-churning fear crashes down upon Penelope, causing her legs to wobble. She swallows dryly and desperately tries to hold onto her emotionless composure as Lizzie slowly makes her way closer.

“Liz, I can--”

“Explain?” Lizzie cuts Penelope off, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m dying to hear it. Especially the part where you explain exactly how you wound up in possession of what looks to be my sister’s sweater when I know for a fact that it’s in our dorm room right now on the back of Josie’s desk chair.”

“It’s not her sweater.” The lie flows freely from Penelope’s lips without hesitation and yet she knows right away that it isn’t enough to convince Lizzie.

“Nice try,” Lizzie replies. “Actually, I take that back. It’s a horrible try. Do you think I’m an idiot? Her name is written right here on the tag.”

Lizzie flips the sweater over and holds up the tag for Penelope to see, but it’s not needed. Penelope has long since burned those five black scrawled out letters into her memory.

“So we’re going to try this one more time. What are you doing with my sister’s sweater?”

“Liz, it’s not what you think.”

“Ha!” Liz takes another step forward, causing Penelope to counter with her own step backward. “There. You did it again. You called me Liz. Talk about waving a gigantic red flag. I knew something was off from the very first moment you called me Liz. But no… Everyone said I was overreacting and being paranoid. That there was nothing unusual about it.”

“You know you’re monologuing, right?” Penelope says trying to defuse the growingly dangerous situation. She knows she’s once again playing with fire, but sarcastic remarks have always been her fallback. The last resort of sorts for whenever things aren’t looking so hot.

“Shut up!” Lizzie shouts with a burst of anger. Penelope takes yet another step backward in caution, eyes never leaving Lizzie.

Not even for the slightest of milliseconds.

Josie might’ve almost killed her, but Lizzie…

Lizzie is the real Saltzman twin to watch out for.

Although Penelope never had the opportunity to witness her in action firsthand, the tales were more than enough to paint a picture of what the fair-haired Saltzman could potentially do if provoked.

“Please…” Penelope pauses for a moment as her eyes brief dart away from Lizzie and towards the sweater. “Just give me the sweater and I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“Yeah. Don’t think so, Park.” Lizzie inches closer and Penelope notices how her hand clenches even harder around the yellow fabric, almost to the point of disintegration. It’s another telltale warning. One that Penelope can’t help but fixate on.

Can Lizzie siphon from the sweater?

No.

Not possible.

It’s just a sweater.

There isn’t an ounce of magical energy within it and yet…

The question still lingers with Penelope. Ever present and nagging.

“Who are you?” The single question comes out as a growl and Penelope grits her teeth as another, more powerful set of chills run rampant throughout the length of her body.

“I’m Penelope.”

“Eh’nt! Wrong answer.”

“I am. I swear.”

“You want to know how I know you’re lying?” Lizzie responds, eyeing narrowing down with laser-like focus. “The sweater told me so.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter? The sweater.”

Penelope shakes her head trying desperately to follow along. “But how? I don’t…”

“Oh wow… I think this is a first. Finally, there’s something that the all-power Penelope Park doesn’t know,” Lizzie replies. “I used an aetate charm mixed in with a super dose of whatever magic I siphoned from your room, which by the way, was off the charts. I haven’t had a rush like that since I accidentally siphoned off of my great aunt Gladys during Thanksgiving dinner. She was a notoriously powerful witch in our coven and let’s just say after siphoning from her I was able to levitate my dad’s Land Rover for like a month.”

Lizzie pauses for a moment, getting lost within the memory and Penelope takes the opportunity to quickly glance behind her at the library doorway.

Only 20 feet away.

She could make a run for it and maybe track down Hope…

Or MG…

Or anyone else that could help her defuse Lizzie.

“Don’t you even dare think about it,” Lizzie says and Penelope whips her attention back around to the blonde-haired siphoner. “Now where was I? Oh right… The sweater. The funniest thing happened when I used the aetate charm. It revealed that this sweater was somehow ten years old. Which is impossible because I know for a fact that my sister bought this sweater only four years ago. So which brings me back to my question… Who are you and what is this?”

“I told you already… I’m Penelope Park. And that is Josie’s sweater.” Penelope holds her breath upon these words, as an unsettling silence falls between the two of them. She studies the icy blue eyes staring back at her and suddenly wishes that she had paid more attention to all of those times that Caroline had tried to teach her the art of mind compulsion.

“Gelida.”

The curse hits Penelope before she has time to even process the word that Lizzie has just uttered. Every muscle in her body instantly locks, frozen by an invisible force. Penelope can’t move an inch, let alone even blink.

All she can do is breathe.

Lizzie inches forward as a look of puzzlement crossed over her face. “Okay. Now I know for sure you aren’t Penelope. The real Penelope would’ve seen that coming from a mile away. Hell, even Pedro would’ve.”

Penelope rages against the curse with every ounce of strength she has in her, beyond desperate to respond. But the curse wins out. She’s paralyzed.

“If you won’t tell me the truth, then let's see what you have to say to Josie and my dad,” Lizzie says. She gives Penelope one last look before turning on her heels and taking off down the hallway.

And all Penelope can do is watch in frozen silence, as wave after wave of the dreaded impending doom slowly drowns her.

__________

“Pen?”

Penelope’s eyes pop open at the distinct sound of Josie’s voice. It's been well over an hour since Lizzie left her and all that she’s managed to regain control over so far is her eyelids and her left pinky finger.

“Penelope?” The voice grows closer and Penelope once again fights against the invisible force that is holding her hostage within her own body. She screams out internally, desperate to answer, but no sound emerges.

“Pen? Where are-- Oh my god! Pen?!” Josie rounds the corner of the hallway and finally comes into view. Penelope’s eyes light up and she blinks rapidly. It isn’t much, but it’s enough for Josie to instantly understand.

Josie places her hand on the nearby wall. “Regelo!”

Penelope collapses against the hardwood floor with a thud. She slowly rolls over onto her side as a long groan escapes her lips. Everything hurts.

“Pen! Are you alright?” Josie rushes over and crouches down next to the raven-haired girl. Penelope nods as she takes a moment to recompose herself.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Penelope replies. She pushes herself up into a sitting position and cracks her neck. “Just insanely sore.”

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Pen…”

“It doesn’t.” Penelope shakes her head. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Lizzie. She burst into our room ranting and raving that you weren’t the real you but some sort of demon and that she had trapped you in the downstairs hallway. I sorta ran out on her after that, but she threw this at me as I was leaving.” Josie pauses for a moment and pulls out the yellow sweater from the pocket of her sweatshirt. “She said she found it in your room? It looks like my sweater, but… but it can’t be. This one’s all torn up and destroyed… Pen, what is this?”

Penelope stares at the sweater as her mind races for something-- anything-- to say.

“Penelope?” Josie asks again and the underlying quiver to her voice slices through Penelope like a white-hot knife.

Penelope closes her eyes and then swallows back down the rising lump of emotions in the back of her throat. “It’s yours.”

“What?”

“It’s your sweater.”

“But… I don’t… How?”

“Because it is.”

It’s not an answer.

It’s a deflection.

And a vague one a best.

Josie deserves more. An actual explanation as to why the sweater exists and its origins.

But revealing the truth-- even the vaguest of tidbits-- is nothing short of opening Pandora’s box.

A risk that Penelope isn’t willing to take. Especially not when she knows the potential horrors that can come from it.

“You promised you wouldn’t lie to me,” Josie says and Penelope feels the emotional blade cut even deeper.

“I know.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

“I can’t…” Penelope replies in nothing more than a whisper and as soon as the words leave her lips, she knows that they are the final two nails in the coffin.

But there’s no other choice.

Josie’s chocolate brown eyes burn into Penelope’s skin as the silence of the desolate hallway once again all but engulf them. And all Penelope can do is focus on the yellow sweater on the ground before her.

Her once most beloved possession now turned Achilles heel.

“Then we’re done.”

The words hang heavy in the air, reverberating in the space around Penelope. She shuts her eyes in an effort to hold back the forthcoming tears and gives the tiniest of nods in understanding.

Footsteps soon follow, growing fainter and fainter until finally disappearing altogether back into the darkness.

Penelope doesn’t need to open her eyes to confirm what her heart already knows. Josie is gone.

And this time, it’s for good.

#posie #legacies #josie x penelope #josie saltzman #penelope park #hope mikaelson #lizzie saltzman #ao3 #fanfic #wlw

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elizabethhamilton1780 · 6 years

Text

Like the Sun

(Alternatively titled— the Marriage Pact AU that I’ve been talking about forever.)

A/N: Finally! First piece of writing that I’ve put up in forever. This is the first of 3 parts, and I believe the first longer piece I’ve written in Alex’s POV. I’ll have the next hopefully posted in a week or so.

He was a fucking good friend.

That’s all Alex could think as he watched his ex boyfriend (the only relationship he had ever been in) wear a shit eating grin as he watched someone from his office chug the disgusting, cheap beer they’d ordered. The silver band on his left hand an odd reminder that nope, this wasn't just some weird Saturday night where they pretended to be kids again. It was a bachelor party. His ex boyfriend’s bachelor party, which he planned.

It was still weird to him. John Laurens was getting married.

Henry, his fiancé, was an amazing guy, Alex would begrudgingly admit. They were perfect for each other. Perhaps that’s why he agreed to be the best man in the first place. There were no hard feelings, the couple had broken up years ago when they were still in their early twenties.

Though that didn’t make it any less fucking weird.

Their wedding was still a few months away, but John had wanted to celebrate with their overseas best friend before he returned to France after spending the entire summer in the states.

“Ah, mon ami,” As if summoned, the frenchman appeared. Clapping the grumpy best man’s shoulder heavily, he landed in the seat next to him. His already thick accent seemed to grow only thicker with booze, Alexander immediately recalled. “There you are. Why are you not enjoying the view?”

Alexander shrugged his heavy arm off with a small, forced laugh. “Guess I’m just not really in the mood tonight, Laf.”

The frenchman wasn’t buying it, Alexander noticed. Luckily, he didn’t push, but joined Alexander in his secluded corner of the bar. They both watched the spectacle from a far, Alexander checking his phone periodically for the text he was worried wouldn’t come.

“Liza?” One of his oldest friends asked after Alex had clicked the home button on his phone for the fifth time in a three minute period.

Alexander sheepishly grinned. “Terrible, I know. Don’t tell John- it’s just she had a date she was really excited about. Some guy she’s been on a few dates with, and I’m anxious to hear how it went.”

That was a lie and they both knew it. He was anxious to hear from her so he’d know if she went home with him or not. The thought of someone else touching her made his stomach ache- even if he hadn’t ever touched her himself. The unspoken truth sat heavily between the pair and god please don’t bring it up tonight.

“So… Why aren’t you two together, again?” damn him.

“She doesn’t see me that way.” Alexander said, for the probably millionth time. “Now can we just drop it? Tonight’s supposed to be about John and his last night of freedom, not mine and Liza’s non existent love life.”

“John’s fine, he’s having the time of his life.” Laf waved his hand dismissively. It was true. The soon to be groom still looked very pleased with the predicament he found himself in. “This is about you, and the fact that Liza is so into you! You guys are both idiots in love who need to get their shit together-”

“I’m already having a bit of a rough night here, Laf, I really don’t need this right now.” Alexander interrupted him, his voice sharp. He softened slightly when his friends raised his hands in a mock surrender motion and offered to get the next round.

Alexander Hamilton had been in love with Elizabeth Schuyler for pretty much as long as he’d known her. The severity of said love seemed to go up and down. He’d had his own share of flings, and she two boyfriends of her own over their friendship that had spanned the past twelve years of their lives. Even when he was in the only real relationship he had ever been in with John, his love for her was still burning in the back of his chest. It was an inextinguishable fire that was constantly burning inside him.

The only problem was that he had been placed very early on in the friend zone. It seemed that once you were in that godforsaken place, it was impossible to get out.

Another thing that was impossible for Alexander to do was to live without Eliza.

So… he accepted it. He accepted the fact that they would never be anything but friends. Best friends. He accepted that was going to have to watch Eliza walk down the aisle and into the arms of another man. He accepted that she was going to have children with another man and that the most that he would ever be to them was their weird Uncle Alex whom they only saw on Thanksgiving and their mother’s birthday (because their pact to always spend their respective birthday dinners with each other was never going to be broken goddamn it.)

He checked his phone one more time before thinking fuck it. How’d it go? AH

It wasn’t two minutes later that Eliza’s smiling face appeared up on his screen, the photo being taken on her birthday dinner last year. He had caught her mid laugh, her open mouthed smile huge, her eyes crinkly. It was his favorite picture of her to date. He was so caught up in the photo that he nearly forgot to answer the phone call- and to celebrate the fact that she wasn’t currently in some other guy’s bed.

“Hey,” he said loudly into his phone over the sudden loud spell of cheering. “Give me a chance just to get outside so I can hear you better.” He waved to Laf when he came back with their drinks refreshed, stepping outside into the warm August air. “Alright, finally. How’d it go?” There was a pause and then a quiet sniffle. Alexander felt his stomach drop. “Are you crying?”

Another sniffle and a small pause. “No.”

“Liz…” Alexander listened to her take a deep breath, a deep frown settling on his face. “Babe, come on. You can tell me anything. Did he do something? Do I need to kick his ass? I’ll kick his ass.”

He smiled when he heard her let out a wet laugh. “No, no. He didn’t do anything like that. He was… he was fine.”

“Okay… Then why are you crying?”

He listened as she let out a frustrated huff. He could just picture the way she’d run her hands through her long hair that seemed to always fall in front of her eyes as it always did when she was frustrated. “Because I’m tired of guys being just fine, Alexander. I’m tired of waiting for something to be handed to me. I need to just fucking grab it.”

“Afraid I’m not following you, Liza,” Alexander said gently, his tone a bit hesitant. “What happened?”

“Remember Andre?” She eventually asked, another heartbreaking sniffle sounding from her end of the line.

“Your asshole boyfriend from senior year of college? Yeah I remember.”

“Okay… Remember when we broke up? John had broken up with you like a day later. So we both drove to Albany to stay in the house because my parents were on their Europe trip?” She continued, her tone nervous.

“Of course I remember. That was like… the most drunk I’ve ever been, so yes, I remember. What does this have to do with anything, Liz?” He pressed, leaning against the brick wall of the bar, feeling the pulse of the loud music against his back.

“Do you remember the pact we made?”

“The never drinking again pact?” Alexander asked with a small smile. “Babe, do I have news for you-”

“Not that one, Alex.” She interrupted him, her tone a bit sharp. “The other one.”

Alexander wracked his brain for a moment, a small frown on his face. This was clearly important to her and he for once had no idea what he was talking about. What was she talking about? He only remembered being oh so very drunk and confused at how happy he felt when he was holding his sobbing best friend. He remembered trying to comfort her, saying of course she was going to get married, that if no one else realized how special she was then he would just marry her himself - oh. Oh. Oh yeah, he remembered. “Um. I think I do.”

There’s a brief, heavy pause between the two. Something that sounds like a sharp intake of breath sounds on her end of the line. “My birthday’s in a week.”

What the fuck was happening here. More importantly, why did he feel like the air had been punched out of his gut? Why did he feel breathless in a good way?

“Liza… You can’t be serious.” He finally said after a full minute of his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

“I am.” The firmness of her tone made him feel like crying. Was this actually happening? Was Alexander’s wildest dreams coming true?

No. No. He couldn't do this, he refused to do this. She needed a friend, someone to reassure her that she was an amazing catch and that the right man was out there for her. She was just scared of turning thirty. She didn’t want to marry him.

For some reason, out of all of the beautiful and poetic phrases that were forming in his mind to reassure her, the only thing he could think to say was, “Are you drunk?”

Eliza scoffed on the other line. “No, I’m not drunk, you ass.”

The tone of her voice make his skin prickle. “Okay, first of all, lose the tone. It’s perfectly rational for me to think you’re drunk because this is fucking crazy.”

“Look, can you just come over whenever the party’s done? This really isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone.” The sadness once again creeped into her voice and Alexander couldn’t have that.

“I’ll be over in fifteen,” he said before hanging up without another word.

His heart was pounding as he made his way back inside the bar, looking around through the crowd for his friends. He finds Laf first, tugging on his arm. “Hey, I gotta go. Liza’s freaking out about something, she needs me.” He ignored the look he was given in return. “Have you seen John? I better tell him before I head out.”

Alexander wandered in the direction that he pointed in, searching for his best friend. “John!” he shouted once he was close enough, grabbing his wrist that he was using to pump in the air in encouragement while Hercules chugging a disgusting concoction that seemed to be made of mostly beer to the side. “I gotta head out.”

John pouted exaggeratedly, the other few friends of theirs who were around booing as well. “Ham, it’s only like, two thirty. We used to stay out till- oh.” A sly grin formed on his face and holy shit it’s been forever since he’d seen his friend this drunk. “It’s Eliza, isn’t it? It is! You have that dopey grin on your face again.”

Alexander glared at him. Mainly, because he couldn’t glare at himself or extinguish the flame of hope that had formed in his chest. “Alright, man. Thanks for the party, go get your lady.” He continued before Alexander shoved him off when he pressed a wet smacking kiss on his cheek, the small crowd surrounding them laughing obnoxiously. Though, the effect of the shove quickly ruined as he has to quickly steady his closest friend on his feet.

He looked around for the least drunk individual he could find and made sure he knew the number of the two drivers he had hired for the night. Henry would kill him if he managed to harm his groom just three months shy of their wedding.

As he felt a bit tipsy himself, he decided to be safe and walk a few blocks until he could find a cab. He leaned back in his seat after giving the driver Eliza’s address, sighing and loosening his tie even more. He hadn’t had time to change after his late meeting with the other partners of his firm, his suit was more rumpled then ever. He’d have to get it dry cleaned.

His thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt slam on the brakes, now in front of Eliza’s apartment building. He paid the driver wordlessly, tipping a bit probably too generously, but finding he didn’t care. He climbed the stairs two at a time to her tiny fourth floor walkup one bedroom apartment, knocking twice. Usually, he’d just enter on his own accord, she kept the door unlocked no matter how many times he’s warned her, but for some reason, he decided to be formal.

It only took a few moments for Eliza’s sweet face to appear. Her long dark hair was pulled into a bun on the top of her head, her dark almond eyes soft as they gaze into his and she was wearing shorts and a tank top, the maroon lace strap of her bra just slightly visible. She was so fucking pretty he could cry. “Hey.” she breathed after a moment.

Alexander couldn’t help but crack a smile at her unsure greeting. “Hi, Betsey.”

She grinned back at him and the tension in her body language loosened up almost immediately. She opened the door wider for him to enter. As he suddenly felt suffocated, he immediately shrugged off his light gray suit coat and tossed it over the back of her couch. He pulled his tie off and threw it on top of his jacket, the first three buttons on his dress shirt unbuttoned. After he felt her gaze on his back, he turned to face his best friend afterwards, her cheeks were slightly flushed when she was realized she had been caught staring. “Like what you see, Schuyler?” He asked teasingly.

“Shut up.” Her cheeks were blushing furiously now. He merely smirked in reply before he sat down on the couch to take off his dress shoes.

Moments like that weren’t odd for the pair of friends. Alexander had quit pretending not to check her out years ago, his eyes always drawn to her slender figure no matter what clothing it was concealed in (his favorite season was summer for a reason, he fucking loved her sundresses). Eliza had only just started to reciprocate and Alexander was always delighted when he caught her.

“Is that a new suit?” She asked conversationally. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in it before.”

Alexander hummed and nodded once. “It is. Got it from Herc’s shop last week. Didn’t try it on, probably should have. It’s uncomfortable as shit.”

“It looks good.” Eliza seemed to say before she could help herself and the pretty pink color came back onto her cheeks. Alexander didn’t tease, but he grinned in response. “Think you left some clothes here last week, laundry day. You could change, if you want?”

“No, I’m fine.” Alexander denied, shaking his head. “Thanks though.”

“Sure.” Eliza said, the silence that followed was awkward. “How was the party?”

Alexander cut straight to the chase. “Babe, can we please cut to the chase? I’m fairly confident you proposed to me less then an hour ago.”

Her cheeks flushed again. “I didn't propose.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I reminded you of our pact.”

“Right. And you want to go through with that pact we made eight years ago as dumb drunk college students?”

“Just shut up for once and hear me out.” She said, her voice growing dangerously close to that tone that made Alexander want to rip his hair out every time he heard it.

He nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

“Alright. I mean. It just makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“It does not make any fucking sense—” His mouth clamped shut at the look she gave him.

“We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long. And not only been in, but we’ve been consistently… present.” She started to pace her small living room. “You spend the night here at least three times a week and we have dinner together every night and half my stuff’s at your place and half your stuff’s here. We’re each other’s emergency contact and—”

“You’re not suggesting that we get married because we’re each other’s emergency contact, are you?”

“We know everything about each other,” Eliza continued on like he hadn’t spoken. “We know all the embarrassing stories, hell, we were most likely present for each other’s. You’re loved by my family and love them back. I’m the only person you’ve let be this close to you for this long and that’s remarkable because you haven’t fucked me once.”

Alexander shot her an unamused glare with no malice before he ran a hand along the back of his neck awkwardly. All she had said was true.

“We care deeply for each other,” Eliza stopped her pacing to look at him, really look at him the first time all evening. “We love each other. We’re… you,” she huffed, her emotions appeared to be getting the better of her. His heart aches. “You’re my best friend, Alex.” She said simply, as if that summarized all of it up.

“You’re my best friend too, Liz.” Alexander said when he figured he could talk. His heart ached when she sniffled again. “Aw, babe, just. Come here,” he held out his arms for her to walk into. She tucked into him with practiced ease, her thin arms wrapping tightly around his waist while Alexander rested his chin on top of her head. He subtly inhaled her scent as he pulled her closer against him as his hand rubbed at her back. She smelled of roses and everything that was beautiful in the world. She smelled like home.

“So?” She eventually asked as she pulled away to look at him. The hope in her eyes made his heart raise and sink at the same time.

“All the things you said were true…” He said after a moment. “But I don’t understand how that means we should be married, babe. You’re only just turning thirty. I know that seemed crazy old when we were kids but it’s not. You have plenty of time to find your perfect guy.”

Eliza frowned, still only a few inches in front of him. “You don’t understand what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.”

“I love you too. We already established this, we love each other. But you’re not in love with me, Betsey. You’re just scared because of your birthday. It’s normal but you really don’t have to go running to the first guy you think of—”

“You’re the only guy I thought of. I told you, I’m tired of waiting for something to be handed to me.” Eliza tried to explain, clearly getting frustrated with her inability to articulate how she was feeling. “Mama always tells me that she had to work to make things work with my father. That they had to put in time and effort to build the relationship. But then it hit me… Alexander that’s what we've done here. We love each other. I love you. We make each other happy. We’ve planned on being in the rest of each other’s lives. We work. We work so well without all the sex and shit. We know it will last. We love each other. We really love each other.” She frantically moved her hands, gesturing between the two of them. “Half of the married couples in this city can only dream of having what we have. We love each other and when I first realized this, I. I mean I got scared. Because it’s me and you and it’s huge. And I’ve still been going to that damn laundromat with you every Saturday night even though my apartment put in a laundry unit a year ago.” Alexander stared blankly at her, utterly confused. “You know?” She asked helplessly, her eyebrows furrowed together.

He ignored her question. “What happens a few years down the road? When you actually find someone and fall in love?”

“I love you,” Eliza said and shook her head stubbornly. “That’s not going to happen. I don’t have a need to look anywhere else.”

“I’m not going to let you settle because you’re scared.” He said after a moment after he shook his head slowly.

“If I married you, Alexander Hamilton, I would not be settling.” She said firmly as she stepped forward to really look into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be settling if I married my best friend.”

“Eliza…”

“We’d make each other so happy, Alex.” Eliza pressed forward, her eyebrows knitted together once more. Alexander took her soft hands when she held them out, looking down at her perfectly manicured nails. God, even her hands were pretty. “You already make me so happy. Do I make you happy?”

“The happiest memories of my life have all been with you.” He confessed before he looked up from examining her hands.

“Then we’re guaranteed a lifetime of happiness.” Eliza concluded, her eyes were teary, Alexander noticed. “Please, Alex.”

“Let me think about it.” He sighed after a moment. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest.

Eliza nodded. It seemed she knew that’s as much of an answer as she was going to get tonight. She slumped forward into the kiss he placed on her forehead and folded herself into his arms once more.

What the fuck was he going to do?

- - -

“Okay…” John said slowly, staring at Alexander blankly. Henry was sat beside him on their regular side of the booth, his arm slung around John’s shoulder. “The girl of your dreams asked you to propose to her. And this is a problem because…?”

“Because. It’s fucking- UGH!” Alex groaned while his friends laughed. He slumped over exhaustedly into his arms that rested against the sticky, tacky wooden bar table. His friends were the worst.

“No, seriously. I’m not trying to be funny or an ass here, Alex. I’m genuinely not seeing the problem here. At all.” John said, his face completely serious, eyebrows furrowed. “You love her. You’ve been in love with her since your sophomore year of college. I doubt you’re ever going to regret doing this.”

“I know I won’t.” Alex said flatly. “I’m not worried about me here.”

“She won’t regret it either, Alex. She loves you.” Hercules interjected from where he was sat beside Alexander, Lafayette sat on the chair on the opposite side of the booth. This was supposed to be a last dinner sort of thing, but Alexander couldn’t keep his trap shut. He only had a week until her birthday and wasn’t any closer to making a decision. “It sounds like she mentioned that multiple times in her argument.”

“I know she loves me. But there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone.”

“Oh my god, can you get your lawyer head out of your ass for one moment and just think like a regular human being for once?” John snapped at him, making Alex’s skin prickle. There was a beat of silence for a moment before the other members of their party laughed it off as if it were a joke.

“Okay, okay,” Henry quickly intervened before Alex could have replied. “It’s Laf’s last meal with us. Why don’t we all try and act civil?”

The fire in his former boyfriend’s eyes the rest of their lunch confused Alex even more. They avoided the disaster that was Alexander’s love life the rest of the meal. He was no closer to coming to a decision by the time he arrived back at his apartment after dropping Laf off at the airport.

He was just getting into his liquor cabinet when there was a knock at the door. He peered through the peephole, spying Laurens’ bushy curls. He let out a small sigh before he opened the door. John shoved passed him immediately, taking the glass of scotch he had in his hand and setting it on the coffee table. “Do you remember why I broke up with you?” He demanded.

“I really don’t see the point in that question—”

“Answer it, please.”

“Because you were convinced something was going on between me and Liza.”

“Wrong. I broke up with you because I wanted you to be happy. And we both know— and knew that Eliza is what makes you happy.”

“John.”

He held up his hand and rolled his dark eyes. “Don’t get all sentimental. I was pissed at you, too. You were a terrible boyfriend.”

“I know that,” Alexander snapped. “I fucking suck at relationships. Are you here to rub that in my face?”

“I’m here to tell you to stop being an idiot.”

Irritability spiked in Alex’s veins. “What? I’m trying to do the best thing for Eliza here, John. I’m not letting her settle because she’s scared.”

“No, you’re not giving her what she wants— probably what she needs— because you’re scared that you’ll get hurt in the end.”

“It’s not just that.” Alexander sighed before he sat down on the leather couch nearest to him. John followed suit, though his eyebrows were raised with expectancy. “I… I suck at romantic relationships. You know that. I almost lost you because of it, the only reason I didn’t was because of law school. I can’t fucking lose her, John. I can’t.” Embarrassingly enough, he wasn’t startled by the tears that formed rapidly in his eyes. “I honestly wouldn’t be able to survive.”

Just the thought of living without her made panic rise in his throat every time. Whenever he didn’t hear from her at least once a day, he found himself anxious. Their week day dinners, Friday night movie nights, Saturday grocery and laundry trips, their lazy Sundays… He couldn’t survive without them. He couldn’t live without her.

John softened immediately and let out a sigh. “Alex, you aren’t going to fuck this up. You’ve been in love with this girl for twelve years now. You know everything there is to know about her, you already get along with her family. You’ve covered literally every inch possible of friendship and you both want more. You’re practically dating and have been dating her forever, without all the benefits of a relationship. There’s nowhere to go but up for you guys, dude.”

“Is it selfish?” Alexander asked after a moment of careful thought.

“What?”

“Is it selfish of me to do this? To fulfill my dreams of marrying her when she’s only doing this because she’s scared?”

“Ham, I know for a fact that that isn’t why she—”

“Say that it is, John. Am I being completely selfish by even considering doing this?”

John sighed and sat back in his chair for a moment as he thought. “Alexander. Bear in mind that what I’m about to say is said with love.” Alexander’s gaze turned wry, but his best friend barreled on. “You’re the most selfish human being I’ve ever met.”

“This is the worse fucking pep talk I’ve ever had.”

“Shut up and let me finish, alright?” A hint of a smile formed on John’s face. “You’re terrified of being left or abandoned, so you do what you think is protecting yourself. You stay in relationships you aren’t into just for the sole sake of having someone. You push people away. You sleep around to feel close to someone and then you never call them again.The one person that you’ve allowed yourself to stay close with is Schuyler.”

“I know all this.”

“You’re selfish in all the wrong ways. You’re selfish in ways that only hurts you,” He continued, “I think it’s time that you be selfish in a good way. In a way that can bring you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s okay for you to get what you want. Maybe— she is, but say that she isn’t completely in love with you yet. Since she’s so willing, use this opportunity you have. Make up for it later and be unselfish in the relationship. Make her the happiest you can. I think you’ll finally find what you’ve been looking for too.”

“She deserves so much more than me.”

“Then be who she deserves.” John said and shrugged his shoulder like the answer was that simple.

Maybe it was.

He knew what she wanted. He knew exactly what her life plan was. He knew how she wanted to be proposed to, he knew the wedding she wanted, how many kids she wanted. He knew what her dream house looked like, he knew how important her family was to her. Everything, he knew everything about her. He could really make her happy.

“Be who she deserves.” Alexander repeated quietly and suddenly everything came together in his mind. If he was going to do this, which he was pretty damn sure he was going to, he was going to do this right. He stood up with a new set of determination. “I’m going to do this. I’m going to marry Eliza.”

A huge grin formed on John’s freckled face. He stood up and tackled Alexander into a hug. “This is gonna be great man, you’ll see. Dibs on being best man.”

Alex chuckled, patting John’s back affectionately. “Of course you’re the best man.” He pulled away just enough to look fully into John’s face. “And as my best man, I’m really going to need your help. I have a week to pull everything together. That includes gaining the Schuylers’ permission, getting Angelica’s blessing, finding her the perfect ring and somehow pulling off the proposal she’s been dreaming of since she was sixteen. In one fucking week.”

Best man John Laurens merely grinned back at him. “You know I’ve always loved a good challenge.”

It wasn’t until a few hours later, after a basic plan had been made— long after Henry had come and picked his fiancé up after his late shift at the hospital— that Alexander found the courage to get some closure.

At the very real risk of your fiancé kicking my ass, I just still need to say that I did love you, John. When we dated. I loved you. I had a terrible way of showing it, but I loved you. A lot. AH

As my infuriatingly wise annoying lawyer friend once said, loving someone isn’t the same as being in love with someone. JL

I know you did. Thank you. JL

Get some sleep before Philip Schuyler kicks your ass tomorrow. JL

- - -

Alexander sat stiffly, his posture was much better than it usually was. He was sat in the large arm chair closest to the unlit fireplace. The rain was pelting the window, hopefully not a homage to what was to come.

He had woken up early and took the first train he could hop on to Albany. The Schuylers were good people, so they had taken his surprise visit in with polite confusion. After a short amount of small talk, Alex had cut down right to the chase.

“I’d like to marry Eliza… And I know it’s really important to her that I get your blessing.”

The two parents stared at him blankly for a moment. Alexander internally winced, because what kind of intro was that? “I’m sorry,” Philip eventually said, his smile was slightly strained. “We weren’t aware you two were seeing each other.”

“Yes, well. That was mainly my fault,” Alexander admitted nervously. He figured it was best for him to be the bad guy and wanted Eliza free of any blame. “We decided to keep it quiet until we were sure it would work out. I know it’s strange, after so long, but…” he trailed off.

“Well, finally,” Catherine said, a huge smile on her face. She stood and crossed the room to embrace a puzzled but relieved Alexander. “You’ve been apart of our family for a very long time now, we’re happy to make it official, aren't we, Phil?”

“Of course,” Philip stood and shook Alexander’s hand firmly, his grip tighter than strictly necessary. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses, Ham. We’ve all placed bets—“

Catherine swiftly interrupted her husband. “When are you going to pop the question? Do you have the ring yet? Oh, can I see the ring?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the ring yet. I’ve found a few I like, I was actually hoping I could convince Ang to let her husband watch the baby for an afternoon so I could get her advice. I was planning on asking on her birthday.”

There was a beat of silence, the two Schuyler’s looking puzzled. “That’s six days from now, son.” Philip told him politely, as if that thought hadn’t crossed Alexander’s mind and he suddenly felt like crying. Everyone knew how stressful this mission was.

“I know, I know it’s crazy. I have a whole team helping me out back at home, though.” Alex laughed a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked towards Catherine, his dark eyes hopeful. “I’ll send you a picture of the ring as soon as I find it, I promise.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect ring. You know Eliza like not a lot of people do,” his potentially future mother in law said, her eyes shining with excitement. It made Alex feel at ease.

Maybe this plan wasn’t so crazy after all.

Angelica stared blankly at him. Her eyes flashed with a series of emotions, so fast that Alexander could hardly keep up. A brief moment of joy, confusion, sadness, and then— oh, yep, that was a whole lot of anger. “What?” she asked, her voice just too calm for Alexander’s liking.

“I want to marry your sister..?” he hated how his fear made him phrase it like a question. That was the truest statement he could have come up with.

“Yeah, I got that. Which one?”

Alex gave her a dirty look.

“Well, it’s just as ridiculous to assume that you’d want to marry Eliza as it would be for you to want to marry Peggy,” she said haughtily.

“No, it’s not! Peggy hates me, and I’m fairly confident—“ Alex cut off. She’d told him that in confidence last drunken New Years Eve. Angelica’s eyebrows were raised expectantly, clearly waiting for him to finish his sentence, ready to pounce. “I love her,” he finished. “I love Eliza.”

Angelica softened just the slightest. “I know you do. But— weeks ago, you refused to acknowledge it. Now I’m just supposed to trust that you’ll live happily ever after with her? It doesn’t make sense, Alex. She would have told me if you two started dating.”

It became clear that Alex wasn’t going to be able to use the same fib that he used with the Schuyler’s. Eliza and Angelica were too close.

“I’d rather chop off my own arm than hurt her, Angelica… come on, you know that,” he pleaded, leaning forward on the table. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to marry her— and I think she wants to marry me, too.”

The eldest Schuyler sister stared at him, as if she was trying to pick him apart. “You guys talked about it?” she demanded, a sort of disbelief in her voice making Alex’s skin prickle.

“Yes.” And that wasn’t even a lie. He first felt a surge of pride and smugness at the way Angelica sunk back. It seemed he had finally gained some leeway in the conversation— it was incredibly hard to win an argument with Angelica Schuyler. Though, he did feel a bit bad when he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes.

“Why didn’t Eliza tell me?”

Alex hesitated. “She probably thought that— you’d try and talk her out of it. We know it’s crazy, that we’ve never… officially dated. But it feels right,” he said, echoing Eliza’s words from their discussion just the other night. There was an uncomfortable beat of silence, and then he resorted to pleading again. A little flattery, maybe, too. “Please, Ang. She’d never marry me if you didn’t approve, and… Fuck, I really need help finding her ring,” he admitted.

Angelica stared at hime for a moment. He resisted letting out a small hurrah of victory when he saw her resolve break. “Hamilton, if you hurt her, I swear to god—“

“I won’t. I promise I won’t,” he assured her, fighting back a grin. “So— a ring. Where do we start?”

Angelica let out a long sigh, dragging a delicate hand down her face. “Tiffany’s.”

#hamliza #hamilton #my fic #hamliza fic #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #eliza schuyler #eliza hamilton #john laurens #angelica schuyler #philip schuyler #catherine schuyler #marriage pact au

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lillianfromaccounting · 6 years

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Finally getting around to this!

Was tagged by @cenobitic-anchorite (thank you!)

Putting this under a read more, because I wrote a lot.

1. What is your favorite movie? My answer to this is always Sleeping Beauty because it was the first movie that I stayed up watching with no adults. Like I must have been around 7 and my older cousin was 12 and we stayed up watching it after all the adults went to sleep. So for me, it signified some sort of independence. (On another note, that same cousin and I also stayed up to watch Pretty Woman before I realized what was going on in that movie.)

I know sometimes it’s a cop out answer, because I really can’t pick a favorite live action movie. There’s too many and I love a lot of them. Also, usually, when I say Sleeping Beauty, based on the other person’s reaction, I can tell if they’ll be compatible and/or get my vibe or not.

2. If you had to drastically change your hair, how would you cut it and what color would you dye it? I want rainbow hair, but I can’t have that where I work. I’ve been saying I’ve wanted to dye it red for several months now, but haven’t made the appointment yet (long story, but also mostly me dragging my feet). I’ve ALWAYS wanted a pixie cut, but have always been told that my face shape isn’t good for it (I did it senior year of college and there were people who flat out told me never to get that hair cut again). I’ll do it again, when I feel like I have the energy to maintain it.

3. Can you drive a manual transmission car? lol, no. I can just barely drive an automatic. (Fact: I got my license at age 23 and didn’t regularly drive until 32.)

4. What’s your favorite thing to cook or bake? Why? Is there a word limit to this? Cuz we’ll be here a few days. lol Favorite thing to bake is scones because I love scones. I also love to bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And anything with a short pastry, so pies, tarts. I LOVE making sweet danishes. Oh crumb cakes. Oooh it’s season for fresh cranberries. I make a really good cranberry lime crumb cake. Cake, in just about every variation (rounds, sheet, cup, etc.) I like these because they’re delicious (and very few bakeries make them well, and I’m a dessert snob. If I’m eating it, it better be worth the calories. I’m also very particular about my cake to frosting/crumb ratio). Also, fact: I suck at baking regular cookies. I can do it, but they never look right and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing up the ratio of dry to wet ingredients or the butter’s not cold enough or something, but yeah, my cookies always look seriously deformed. (yes, I’ve seen that chart that troubleshoots cookies. No, it hasn’t helped.)

Favorite thing to cook. Hm... go to comfort stuff: penne vodka, but really, I like trying new recipes.

5. How old were you when you got your ears pierced (if your ears aren’t pierced, do you want to get them pierced? The first time I got my ears pierced, I think I was in 8th grade, so 13-ish. After the initial however long it was that you’re supposed to keep them in, I got lazy so I didn’t keep earrings in all the time (and they hurt my ears), so the holes apparently closed. I got them re-pierced in sophomore or junior year of high school and again, after a little while, they closed again. I was thinking about getting them re-pierced again.

6. Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not? I LOVE Thanksgiving. Yes, the historical aspect can go to hell, but personally, I love Thanksgiving. So growing up, being Chinese, we never celebrated American Thanksgiving. When I was about 13, I got a bread making book from the Scholastic book fair and discovered that we had a working oven (Chinese people don’t cook with ovens. We have a wok and a rice cooker. That’s really all you need.). Anyway, I started baking bread and it was amazing.

Also, our local supermarket would do the holiday promotion of if you spend $X, you can get a free holiday protein, and being a household of 8 (sometimes 10), we hit that spending threshold very, very quickly. So one year, I told my mom that we’re getting a turkey, instead of the ham that she likes. She was skeptical, but I was hell bent on celebrating American Thanksgiving and figuring out what this whole turkey hoopla was about.

I started cooking a Thanksgiving feast for my family (immediate and extended) from the age of 14. I did a sticky rice stuffing in the bird. Mashed sweet potatoes (no marshmallow. it’s sweet enough by itself.) I always made a lasagna (with cheese from DiPalo’s, where I would wait hours on line for our order) or another pasta dish. We did Chinese vegetables. And every year, we would pick new recipes we’d want to try. By ‘we’, I mean me. I would pick new recipes that I’d want to try and my three younger siblings would be obligatory sous chefs. And since bread baking happened in the wee early hours of the morning, we would have it for breakfast. So then I expanded the menu to include breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It became an all day thing and I was (and still am) obsessed.

Oh, it probably also helped to know that I come from a very large extended family and everyone would come through our house during holidays. Usually, it’s because my family hosted the mah jong parties, so we were kinda party central. My biggest Thanksgiving, we had about 50 people cycle through the house that day, so I had to make sure I had food enough for 50 people. Growing up, I’m pretty sure we never had less than 30. (It’s been a shock for me these past several years when we’ve hosted less than 20 people on turkey day.)

Then, my siblings would find recipes that they want to try, and Thanksgiving was this day where we would try food. Not all the recipes worked out, but no one ever got sick or food poisoning (oh man, I have stories from adjacent family members). But yeah. It’s an insane production and I love every minute of it (especially since my mom did the clean up, because bless that woman, she messed up Jiffy corn bread mix when she tried to bake, so she sticks to cleaning).

Anyway, after I got married, I demanded Thanksgiving, which my in-laws didn’t care about because they were getting it catered anyway. But I found out the hard way that they’ve sucked the soul out of my Thanksgiving festivities. One person demanded Stove Top (over fresh sausage dressing?!??!!). Fine. Another prefers roasted turkey (as opposed to smoked or fried). Year after year, they keep telling me to make less food, because they don’t enjoy watching me cook (they think I work too hard, but they also don’t understand that I’m having the time of my life).

At this point, I know that in order to get back to the Thanksgiving that I want to celebrate, it will be after that generation has passed. It’s fine.

I used to start planning my Thanksgiving menu in March, studying recipes and picking and choosing stuff up until like two weeks before hand. Ever since the kids came along, that excitement has also waned. But I’m excited for this year. There will be apple cider mimosas. And I’m roasting a savory pumpkin. And there will be artichokes. Oh and one of my good friends went to Dominique Ansel Kitchen’s pie night this year and had a poached pear chocolate pie that she said was divine. I am attempting to recreate it based on her descriptions of the textures and her pictures. This is what I live for.

(where the fuck is that barney stinson challenge accepted gif when you need it?)

and yes, this year will be my 24th year cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

7. If you could live in the world of one film, which one would you pick? Oh man. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Ok, I lied. I do have a favorite live action movie. I wish I had a more creative answer to this. Yeah, Harry Potter’s world would be cool. Yeah, I identify with hobbits. Any of the Star Treks would also be good in terms of universes. But I want Adam Banks to teach (13-14 year old) me how to ice skate.

8. What kind of pet have you never had, but have always wanted? lol one of my bffs and I always wanted a baby panda.

9. If you won the huge lottery, what would be the first 3 things you’d do?Get a good fucking lawyer, set up a shell foundation so it’s not listed in mine or my husband’s name, prepare to disappear after a couple of years of acting normal. Then, for the more fun three, pay off debt, travel, get a house somewhere the fuck else.

Ceno’s answer was too perfect, so I left it, mainly because I’d pretty much do the same. I’d buy my parents a new house and hire a chauffeur for them. Also @katiekeysburg will get a chauffeur. And I’d throw money at teleportation research. And fund a bunch of gofundmes.

10. Have you ever gotten a tattoo? What is it? If you haven’t, do you want one? I do not have any but I’ve always wanted one of my Chinese name above my ankle and I’ve always wanted the pi character somewhere (debated various locations). One day, when I get the guts to. (and when it’s seasonally appropriate to get one above my ankle, cuz omg I never knew about the various care required while it heals.)

11. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? hahaha um. Probably calling the cops on an online friend who I thought was going to kill himself, but he really wasn’t (but I didn’t know that). (hey kids, don’t put your addresses in your aol profiles--yes I’m ancient.) actually, I’ve done my share to stupid aol/online shit. it will probably come back to haunt me if i ever run for public office or marry a celebrity.

Ok, real stupid thing. I’m a severe klutz, and one time I walked off a raised cement slab (like the kind that statues would sit on) and sprained my ankle. It was probably 3 inches off the ground on the side that I got on it, but it was further off the ground on the other side, so when I got off the slab, I misjudged where to put my foot and I rolled my ankle. Ended up at the ER and they put me in a soft cast. I had to have crutches to get around campus and this one guy who I don’t even know his name, picked me up and carried me up the campus hill (we had a really big hill), and it was against my consent. I did NOT want him to pick me up. It was terrible. Anyway, I rolled my ankle by walking. I have tons of stupid shit. How much time you got?

I was also pretty pretentious when I was younger. (I might still be. I’m not as self aware as I wish to be.) I once asked an Italian friend to try my tomato sauce and asked him what was missing because it didn’t taste right. (I know. I was so gross. You learn from your own grossness though.)

What other stupidity? I fawned over boys. My bff gave me a copy of The Giving Tree in college (I had never read it before) as a metaphor of how much of myself I gave to this toxic dude. I sobbed reading it for the first time.

In hindsight, not getting my license at 17 was a pretty stupid move too. But that also had to do with life circumstances.

OH. Turning down an interview for an internship with my dream company at the time, because I had already accepted an internship position with another company.

Trying to explain to my MBA ethics class how my industry worked only to get it mansplained back to me (pretty stupid of me to have tried in the first place).

Going for my MBA was also a pretty stupid move in the holistic view of my life.

12. Have you accomplished your New Year’s Resolution for 2018? I honestly don’t remember if I even made resolutions, so I’m going to say hard no.

13. If you could get any degree from any school, free of charge, what would you pick? Criminal Psychology. Ceno, we can go to school together! (this reminds me I need to catch up on last week’s Criminal Minds) Another option would be anything in the forensics sciences. I would also like to learn massage therapy. And I want to take that artisan bread breaking course at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I forget how many people I’m supposed to tag. @katiekeysburg @daisyjm75 @steverogersnotebook

#personal #long post #tagged #this was fun #if only to explain my love of thanksgiving

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acrossthemar · 3 years

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December 2020 Covid Updates

December 2020 Updates

Haven’t checked in here in 5 months somehow. The pandemic has completely warped my sense of time. The days, weeks, and months all blend together and it feels like both no time has passed and it’s been an eternity since I’ve last checked in here. I suppose this is consistent with my general relationship to time, but it feels heightened due to the pandemic.

I’ve been meaning to write an update here for a while, but I’ve continued to put it off, almost feeling gutted by how much I’d have to capture.

Let’s start with July: We got married! We had a 14 person wedding ceremony and dinner in Eric’s parents’ backyard. It was absolutely lovely. We really did not know what to expect or what it would feel like, but it far exceeded our expectations. There was something very beautiful about having such an intimate celebration. Everyone was able to give a speech or say a few words, and it was so special that we were able to pull it off. We kept all households distanced, using 8 foot tables with one person on each side. We saved our Jewish Ceremony and name changing until next summer, but of course all is still up in the air with our rescheduled wedding for July, 2021.

We still went on our ‘mini moon’ to Cape Cod right after the wedding. Given that this was always intended to be a relaxing getaway, it likely wasn’t all that different of a trip than it would have been without the pandemic. It was interesting to make that reflection, since almost everything else that’s happened in the last (almost) year has been different due to COVID. But this trip, which consisted mostly of pool, beach, outdoor dining, and hiking, was largely consistent with its non-pandemic alternative.

In August we went on a trip to Maine with my mom and Kristin’s family. COVID was fairly stable in the North East over the summer, and while we still distanced and took the same precautions, we were able to take this trip with a bit less anxiety. We stayed at the Samoset Resort, but spent a night in Freeport on our way. Our Maine trip was of course cancelled this summer, so it was great to see our favorite spots. We also spent a night with Elise and Connor (and Bowie) at their Maine Island house.

That was the last of our trips, and somehow it went from late August to December overnight. We’ve now been in COVID times for nearly a year. Some things have changed, others are different. We no longer have to wait in crazy long lines for grocery stores, toilet paper is back in stock. It is still impossible to find lysol wipes and a thermometer, though.

All in all, we actually had a really nice summer. We were able to take several domestic trips (North Carolina road trip, Connecticut rental, Cape Cod, Maine). We were able to do plenty of outdoor hangs and were impressively social given the constraints. My mom joined the Larchmont Manor beach, where I joined her often. Work from home in the summer definitely has its perks. Read: step outside for my lunch break which means sit and read my book on a lounge chair by my kiddie pool. Really other than our wedding being indefinitely postponed and my constant worry of my mom’s health, the summer was really quite nice.

Fast forward to now, the dreaded winter. For months we’ve been mentally preparing for the ‘worst winter of our life’. In a sense, this will prove to be true. COVID is spiking all over the country again, we are nearing our April COVID numbers in New York, and anxiety is high again. But at the same time, it’s December 9th and we’re still going strong with outdoor hangs. I definitely anticipated outdoor hangs completely ending after October, and just isolating with Eric and Winnie for the coming months. But just in the last two weeks I’ve had two outdoor brunches in NYC! Not to say it’s not cold, it certainly is, but we are making it work. Leveraging restaurants with outdoor heaters, planning gatherings around days that hit 40 or 50 degrees. Eric and I don’t go inside with anyone except my mom. We are figuring out what this will look like with his family for the winter. Up until now, all the way since April, we’ve primarily done outdoor dinners and hang outs with Eric’s family. We will likely start to occasionally go inside their house, but with masks when we’re not eating and try to space at the table. I’ll then try to plan my visits to my mom around this as to not put her at risk. Michelle is now a substitute teacher at Hastings Elementary School where there’s a fair bit of COVID, so there’s definitely some risk.

Let’s chat Thanksgiving quickly. We cancelled our typical plan to go to New Hampshire with Kristin’s family. Well actually, Eric and I were supposed to be on our honeymoon in Thailand, so really there was no world in which we were going to Kristin’s for Thanksgiving. COVID has been spiking everywhere and all were warned not to travel or gather. We decided to do Thanksgiving with my mom and Eric’s immediate family, but then we realized this really is as much of a risk as seeing Kristin’s family. It would be so nice to do Thanksgiving with them, but not worth possibly putting my mom at risk. We were about to cancel, but then it ended up being 60 degrees on Thanksgiving (!!) so we did an OUTDOOR Thanksgiving dinner in Eric’s parents’ backyard! It ended up being lovely. I was so anxious about Thanksgiving, really wanting to make it work but not wanting to take too many unnecessary risks. An outdoor Thanksgiving allowed for exactly that. It was safe, unique, and really enjoyable!

Should also note it is now December which means the 2020 election happened and it is with great pleasure and deep relief that I can say Biden and Harris won. It was an election like we’ve never lived through before. Results weren’t confirmed until almost a week after the election, and Trump STILL has not conceded or admitted defeat. Trump is the most evil human I’ve ever encountered and everything he says or tweets is abhorrent. I hope he rots in a jail cell for the rest of his life but sadly he will not. I am relieved that Biden won but not ecstatic. It is devastating that 70+ million people voted for Trump and still support his insanity. Also, Biden is fine and I’m excited to have Kamala as the first female and POC VP. But he was not my candidate of choice. I still mourn Elizabeth Warren, she would have just been incredible. But sadly our country isn’t ready for actual progress. There’s also still a ton unknown with how the pandemic is handled and what Trump does next and what happens in four years. Trump thinks COVID is a hoax and has been detrimental in our country’s progress. I should also name that we have a few vaccines that have proven effective and we are in early stages of vaccine approval and distribution. Still a long road ahead.

Nothing else is jumping to mind that I need to check in on. Work is still fine. Eric is back to in person school. The kids can opt-in or out. He teaches inside with masks and the kids are spaced with windows open and ventilators. My peloton and Winnie are still absolute life savers. Of course as is Eric. A few TV shows we’ve recently watched: Social Distance, Queen’s Gambit, The Undoing. And I’m re watching Gossip Girl which is surprisingly good! Queen’s Gambit is about Chess and I’ve taught myself how to play chess and am actually decent! We still do quite a bit of cooking, hiking, and board games. I try to see my mom about once a week.

I’ll post some pictures too. Xoxo.

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sapphicscholar · 6 years

Link

A/N: I despise Thanksgiving (it’s chill) so on more than one occasion I’ve spent it binge watching all 10 Friends Thanksgiving episodes (and sometimes threw in the Will and Grace ones for good measure). There are some obvious duds in there, but I felt like writing some Director Sanvers crack and figured a bit of inspiration from some of the better Friends episodes would make for a fun story.

Chapter Text

“Tell me again, Danvers, how did we get talked into this?” Maggie asked, swiping her finger across the spoon she’d been using to layer the tiramisu and “checking it for taste” for the fifth time since she’d begun.

“What? Hosting Thanksgiving?” Alex studiously avoided eye contact, sounding all too innocent for the amount of food and plates strewn around the kitchen.

“Hosting, yes,” Lucy cut in, “but more importantly, cooking all this shit.”

“Look, Kara she just—she’s all upset that Eliza won’t be in town. And then she went and told that damn sob story about finally feeling at home with us and how holidays and Eliza’s chocolate pecan pie remind her of it, and how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“Like this: No.” Lucy arched an eyebrow at Alex in challenge.

“You try resisting that puppy dog pout.”

“I do! Every single day! Considering you taught it to her.”

“Okay, well…whatever,” Alex grumbled, turning back to the bowl of mashed potatoes as she desperately tried to whip them the way she vaguely remembered Eliza doing. Truth be told, her memory was a little hazy, given the last time she’d actually been around for the cooking was during grad school, most of which was a blur of long days in the lab and long nights at the bar.

A knock on the door drew their attention, and Maggie strode across the room to pull it open, revealing Kara standing there with a big smile on her face, clutching a large dish with Lena at her side holding up two bottles of red wine. “Not that Kara’s dessert won’t be lovely, but…” Lena trailed off as she handed over the bottles, catching Alex’s wink from the kitchen.

“Come in, come in.” Maggie motioned, pulling the door open wide just in time for Winn and James to join the party, handing over two more bottles of wine. “Well, I guess today will be fun no matter what happens,” Maggie mused. Truth be told, she hadn’t spent a Thanksgiving anywhere outside of work since things ended with Emily a couple of years ago. Between tainted memories of family meals and the rather bitter final affair she’d spent with Emily and Emily’s family, Thanksgiving wasn’t exactly her favorite of the holidays, and she typically preferred drowning herself in work and scotch. But if Alex could make her like Valentines’ Day—she would never get all the way to loving the Hallmark holiday—then she suspected the combination of Alex and Lucy’s enthusiasm might just turn her Thanksgiving into something to remember for the right reasons.

Across the apartment, Kara had settled in next to Alex in the kitchen, her hip leaning against the counter as she surveyed the various bowls and dishes strewn around the room. “Those don’t really look like Eliza’s mashed potatoes…”

“Well if you haven’t noticed, I’m not really all that much like mom.”

“Actually,” Lucy began, though she closed her mouth at the murderous look in Alex’s eyes, grinning only once Alex had turned around once more.

“It’s just sad that Eliza won’t be able to be here this year,” Kara offered with a shrug.

“Yes, so very sad that you won’t get to hear her gush about your promotion, since of course you got your job back before she could find out about that whole debacle, and your stable relationship and your latest adventures saving the city.”

“Don’t forget the chocolate pecan pie,” Kara added with a cheeky wink, smiling when Alex just rolled her eyes.

“I see you opted not to make one yourself?”

“Nah, nothing will ever be as good as Eliza’s.”

“So glad you have me trying to recreate the rest of her dishes,” Alex huffed, motioning to all the food she—well, she, Lucy, and Maggie—had prepared.

“Taste test!” Kara declared, dipping her finger into the bowl but finding it (ineffectively) shoved away by Alex. “Okay, Eliza never hit.” At Alex’s near growl, Kara backed away, heading back to the living room to join the rest of the group while Lucy went to take her place with Alex in the kitchen.

“Can you put Kara’s trifle into the fridge?” Alex asked, motioning to the dish that had been left on the counter.

“Sure,” Lucy called back, peeking under aluminum foil to see how it had turned out—an action she instantly regretted when she nearly gagged at the unexpected combination of odors. “What’d you say this was, Danvers?”

“Uh, I don’t know, she borrowed one of James’ cookbooks, I think—some old recipe that he told her Winn loves.”

Lucy thought back to the dinners she had spent with James since he got together with Winn. She was fairly certain nothing had ever smelled quite like this. Before she could go ask him, Alex’s phone buzzed loudly against the marble countertop.

“It’s your mom,” Lucy said, holding the phone out to Alex, who just groaned as she answered, tucking it between her ear and her shoulder as she pulled open the oven door to check on the few things they’d learned long ago were best cooked by methods other than heat vision. There were only so many times they could end up with fried cheese before deciding that they still needed to put the macaroni and cheese in the oven.

Lucy headed across to the living room and joined the group, turning to Kara during a lull in the conversation. “Hey, just so I can label everything, what dessert did you end up making?”

“Oh, well, after Snapper told me how terrible my meringues and my scones were, I went with that trifle Winn is always raving about! Followed the recipe to the letter—seemed a bit weird, but whenever I go with my gut in baking, it always seems to lead me to trouble.”

“Right, right.” Lucy nodded, trying to find a tactful way to figure out what was up with it. “Now, uh, what goes into such a dessert?”

“Oh! Yeah, it looked pretty great, huh?”

“Mhm, sure.”

“Well, it’s got all these layers—mm, have you tried Noonan’s new 7-layer bars? So good!” Nodding impatiently, Lucy motioned for Kara to continue. “Right, so first there’s a layer of ladyfingers, then a layer of jam, then custard—and I even made it from scratch—then raspberries, more ladyfingers, then beef sautéed with peas and onions, then a little more custard, and then bananas, and then I just put some whipped cream on top!”

Fighting the urge to gag, Lucy tried to keep a straight face. “What, uh, what was that one right before bananas?”

“The beef? Yeah, I thought it was weird too. But then I remembered that whole fiasco with blood pudding and mincemeat pie, which are most definitely not the desserts I thought they were, and I figured, well, I just don’t quite get British food!”

“Now, was Lena there when you made it, dear?”

Kara shook her head, looking rather proud of herself. “Nope! I’ve been cooking for her all on my own. Ever since I had, well, some extra time home from CatCo…” Shaking away the melancholy mood, Kara smiled brightly up at Lucy. “Just because I got my job back, though, doesn’t mean I should abandon my attempts at making nice things for my girlfriend!”

With a vague noise, Lucy left Kara to go rejoin the others’ conversation, while she turned her attention to James. Tugging on his sleeve, Lucy glared and dragged him over to the window.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“What the fuck kind of kind of recipe did you give to Kara?” Lucy hissed, trying to keep her voice low, but attracting Winn’s attention enough that he came over.

“What do you mean? It’s a traditional English trifle.”

“And does it normally smell like ass and contain beef and peas?”

James just barely stifled a laugh as Winn spluttered and shook his head. “Excuse me, my mom used to make those back before—you know—and they do not smell like ass!”

“Well, something’s wrong with your recipe…”

Shaking his head, James insisted, “No, I’ve used it before. Not my favorite dessert, but it turned out just fine.”

Winn appeared back at his side a moment later clutching the book that Kara had returned. He thumbed through the pages until he got to the trifle, though when he turned to the second page of the recipe, it stuck together, and he had to pry them apart with a loud crackle. “Oh my god, the pages are stuck together!”

“Winn!” Lucy scolded, earning a confused look from him.

James sniffed the pages. “It’s jam.”

Lucy rolled her eyes before snatching the book back from James and flipping through the pages. “Let’s see…she made half the English trifle and half a—oh god—half a shepherd’s pie!”

“We have to tell her,” James insisted, but Lena swooped in at that moment and shoved the cookbook back into her bag.

“No, no you will not.”

“What?” they all spluttered.

“She might look fine and well, but she’s just barely getting her confidence back after the whole being fired and losing her mentor and all. She doesn’t have time to make a new one, so we’re just going to eat it and pretend it’s delicious, then I’ll take her home and make sure she forgets all about the recipe she used.”

Lucy snickered. “I take it this has happened before?”

Lena crossed her arms across her chest, refusing to betray her girlfriend’s secrets.

“I’ll tell ya how I made Alex forget the time Kara found all three of us in the DEO gym if you tell me what other horrendous dishes you’ve been forced to stomach.”

“It only happened one other time,” Lena relented with a dramatic sigh. “Supergirl was needed in the middle, and when Kara got back, she couldn’t quite remember which ingredients she had added… As it turned out, she doubled the salt and left out half the sugar.”

“Delicious,” Lucy teased.

“Yes, well, I ate some, and that’s all that she needed to see. And that’s exactly what all of you will do so that she doesn’t end up feeling bad.” The group finally relented, and Lucy made her way over to inform Maggie of her duty for dessert.

Back in the kitchen, Alex answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Alex! Happy Thanksgiving,” came Eliza’s voice.

“Yeah, you too. How’s the conference?”

“Well, that’s actually what I’m calling about…” Alex quirked her head to the side, grabbing her phone just in time. “I was going to surprise you, but I think I might be a few minutes late…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I got out of the last day of the conference. I’m in National City!”

“Oh.” Alex tried to muster up some enthusiasm. “Yay?” She knew they’d been trying, but today really was not the day she wanted Eliza’s surprise visit. Between the potatoes that surely weren’t done the right way and the surprise new relationship she definitely hadn’t quite gotten around to mentioning, she could only foresee a veritable disaster.

“What’s up?” Lucy asked, catching sight of Alex uncorking one of the bottles of red and pouring herself a generous glass.

“Eliza’s on her way over,” Alex answered, pinching at the bridge of her nose as she tried to convince herself that it would be okay, that after last Thanksgiving, things had been better between them.

“Oh…well, hey, she hasn’t seen the new place! It’ll be good!”

Alex made a noncommittal noise as she pulled the mashed potatoes forward again, uncovering them to stir them a few more times.

“Alex?” Lucy asked.

“Oh, right, yeah, new place—really great, nice and big, real door for the bedroom and all. And if you could, ya know, maybe just not mention to her that we live together, that would be great! I thought we should probably start to set the table now.”

Lucy blinked, trying to follow the rapid digressions. “Why can’t I tell Eliza that we live together?”

“Oh, you know, it’s just that she doesn’t really know we’re dating,” Alex answered, stirring once more at the potatoes and studiously avoiding eye contact. “Do you think we should use the nicer china?”

“Alex…I thought you said you told her.”

“Um, well, I was going to, honestly, I—I really was. But then, this thing happened, you know, and I didn’t.”

“I know that you two don’t have the best relationship, but,” Lucy paused, trying to collect her thoughts. She didn’t want to make Alex feel guilty, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel slighted at the knowledge that Alex could open up about Maggie but force her back into the closet for the holiday. “But, I thought, well, she was so supportive of your being gay and being with Maggie because she saw that you felt like yourself, like you were finally happy. And, I mean, aren’t you just as happy with me?”

“Lucy! No, of course I am,” Alex rushed out, spinning around and resting her hands on Lucy’s shoulders. “This has nothing to do with you or with us—I promise.”

“I get that dating more than one person isn’t exactly…conventional, but why do you think there’s no way she would be happy about us?”

Alex steeled herself, drawing in a deep breath. “The thing is, she, er, well, she doesn’t necessarily like you… I’m so sorry!”

“What? Wait. Why? I’m so likable! What’s not to like?”

With a snort of laughter, Alex kissed Lucy lightly, shaking her head when Lucy continued to let out small noises of protest. “It’s, um, well, Kara maybe called Eliza when I was first arrested…for treason…by you…and then once you agreed to help her, everything happened so quickly that she never really got around to telling her that you also helped to rescue me from Cadmus.”

“Alex!” Lucy hissed. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t think about it! The world almost ended, and then Kara was in outer space, and then I was in outer space! It didn’t come up.”

“So then how do you know she still doesn’t like me?”

“Er, well, when I went to tell her the first time, she didn’t quite react so well to your name. So then I asked Kara about it, and she mentioned that she told Eliza about the whole almost sent to a black ops prison to rot for eternity thing… I told her that she needed to clear things up with Eliza! But she just—she hasn’t really gotten around to it.”

“That woman owes me,” Lucy grumbled.

“Why? Did something else happen?”

“Oh, right—plug your nose when you eat the trifle. Just force down a couple bites, tell her how great it was, and then dispose of any remnants.”

“What?”

“You’ll see!” Lucy called over her shoulder as she turned to go tell everyone else that they’d need to pretend like Lucy wasn’t dating Alex and Maggie for the day because someone hadn’t cleared a few things up—a fact that she emphasized numerous times while explaining.

As she was glaring at Kara for the third time, a knock at the door echoed through the apartment.

“I’ll get it,” Maggie volunteered, pressing a chaste kiss to Lucy’s lips, figuring it was the last time she’d have the chance to do so until Eliza left again.

“Eliza!” Maggie greeted, letting herself be wrapped up in a hug. She knew Alex and Eliza had their issues, but she’d be eternally grateful for the woman’s welcoming attitude toward her.

“Maggie, dear, how are you?”

“Doing well, thanks. I’m so glad you were able to come down for Thanksgiving after all!”

“I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see my girls!” At that moment, Kara popped her head around the doorway and took over the welcoming duties, ignoring Lucy’s death glare. She was going to tell Eliza, but between the Red K incident and breaking Alex’s arm, then letting her be shipped off to Cadmus, she had already felt like she’d failed in her duties at protecting Alex enough, and if her mom could blame someone she really thought she’d never see again…well, what did it matter?

Dusting the nonexistent dust off of her hands on her black jeans, Alex tentatively made her way over to the door. “Mom, hey, how are you?”

“Better now that I’m here. This new apartment—my, it’s really quite lovely. About time you sized up into something now that you and Maggie are together,” she added with a knowing look. “She’s had such a positive effect on you, dear.”

Alex swallowed back any comments about how Lucy had too, choosing instead to wave Lucy forward. At the very least, she could work toward making a better impression this time around. “Mom, look who it is—it’s Lucy!”

Eliza forced a half-smile and nodded. “Mm, oh yes, of course, hello Lucy.”

“Dr. Danvers, it’s great to have you.”

Turning back to Alex, Eliza motioned to her outfit. “You look very nice, Alex.”

“Broke out the new blazer and all,” Lucy chimed in, breaking out her winning smile as she tried to charm the notably cool Eliza.

“Been keeping notes for her dossier? Need to stay informed for the next time you try to arrest her?”

The normally unflappable Lucy forced a bark of laughter. “Ha! Yeah…that’s a good one.”

“I wasn’t joking.” With that, Eliza spun on her heel and strode past Alex and Lucy and into the kitchen.

“Alex,” Lucy whined. “I’m not used to people not liking me.”

“I believe in your ability to win over my mother,” Alex whispered, covertly squeezing Lucy’s hand while Eliza busied herself with the wine. “C’mon, if you can go from arresting me for treason to being one of the two women I love in less than a year, you can do anything.”

Lucy nodded, trying to convince herself more than anything.

Eventually they all settled down to dinner. As usual, Kara suggested that they go around the table and say a few words about what they were thankful for. “I’ll start. I’m so thankful for my friends and family, to have the chance to be surrounded by people who are so loving and so understanding.” Alex rolled her eyes at that. “Here’s to second chances and new beginnings!”

Alex stood up next. “Personally, I’m thankful for all the love I have in my life, but especially for everyone’s honesty,” she added, glaring at Kara, who studiously avoided eye contact. “Perhaps today should be a day about coming clean and clearing up past misunderstandings.”

“Here, here!” Lucy raised her glass in a toast. “I’m so grateful to have wonderful people like Alex in my life and to have been, uh, welcomed to her home today.” She shrunk back under the force of Eliza’s glare.

“I’m here for culinary adventures of all sorts!” James chimed in, and Winn clinked his glass in a toast.

“Just because it isn’t Eliza’s, I’m sure Alex’s cooking will be great,” Kara said, placing a hand on Alex’s forearm, though Alex simply gritted her teeth.

“Well, I had lots of help from Maggie and Lucy this year.”

“I know I’m so grateful just to have both of my daughters together. I know how dangerous their lives are, so to know that they’ve kept each other safe from danger and made sure they got home, where they belong, each night—well, that’s the best a mother can hope for, I suppose.”

Alex tried not to bury her head completely in her hands at her mother’s less than subtle jabs at Lucy, drinking more and more of her wine as the barbs continued throughout dinner. Even if it was something of a relief to have none of it directed at her and instead all directed at the woman her mother (mistakenly) believed to be something of a villain and a threat to her daughters, it didn’t make her feel any less guilty for what Lucy was being forced to endure.

“Tell her,” Alex hissed as dinner was wrapping up. “Go help with the dishes and tell her the truth!”

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re all dating? Then you can work the whole reconciliation narrative in there. I know you’re just blaming me to get out of coming out again.”

“You’re the one that went and poisoned mom against her!”

“She arrested you!”

“Yeah, but you were already badmouthing her earlier because she didn’t like Supergirl!”

“Who doesn’t like Supergirl? I’m a delight!”

“Girls,” came Eliza’s voice. “Are we ready for dessert?” Having been alerted to the particular…recipe of the trifle she hoped there were other possibilities.

“Oh yeah…can’t wait for Kara’s trifle,” Alex yelled back, mentally preparing herself to suppress her gag reflex. At least everyone had been warned, so she wouldn’t have to worry about Kara’s feeling devastated, even if she really wasn’t all that pleased with her sister at the moment.

“Oh hey, Kara,” Maggie began, turning to speak quietly to her, “is this a traditional English trifle?”

“Yep!” Kara beamed. “Just like Winn’s mom used to make!”

“Very cool. Now, did you use beef or eggplant?”

“Beef.”

“Oh no!” Maggie affected a look of disappointment. “I won’t be able to have any—vegetarian and all. Damn…” With a shake of her head, Maggie stood up and ambled out into the living room toward the large sliding balcony door, not particularly convinced that she’d be able to keep from laughing for much longer.

Eliza placed the trifle onto the table alongside the cookies that Alex had loudly informed her were all made by Lucy.

“Okay, Winn, since I made this just for you, I want you to get the first taste!”

Fighting to keep the grimace off of his face, Winn nodded. “Oh, uh, great.” He accepted a plate from Alex and took a dainty forkful with just the top layer of whipped cream and a bit of custard and banana.

“Don’t be shy, c’mon, you’ve gotta get all the layers in there,” Kara said, watching as Winn scooped all the way in. A pea fell off his fork as he brought it to his mouth, though Kara helpfully picked it up and placed it right on top. “Well?” Kara asked once Winn had the full bite in his mouth.

Winn closed his eyes and forced himself to swallow, willing his tastebuds not to work in that moment. “Mmm—it’s just, just so good,” he finally managed, rubbing his stomach as if to demonstrate just how much he’d enjoyed it.

“Really? How good?” Kara asked, looking beyond excited. It certainly hadn’t seemed appetizing to her, but then again, she knew there were plenty of Kryptonian dishes that would likely seem odd to others.

“It’s so good that I feel really selfish about being the only one eating it,” Winn answered. If he had to suffer so would everyone else. “I think really everyone should get to taste how good it is. I heard Lena wanted an extra big portion.”

Lena bit back an angry retort and managed a tight smile. “Of course I want to try whatever Kara makes.”

Pretty soon, everyone had plates, and the room filled with loud “mmm” noises.

“You know what, this is so good, I’m gonna go eat it out on the balcony so that I can enjoy the view whilst I enjoy my dessert,” Lucy said, grabbing her plate and heading out to the balcony, where Maggie had moved to avoid losing it during the debacle.

Eliza stood up next. “I actually need to check in on the conference, so I’m just going to step into the other room to enjoy while I’m on this call.”

“Oh here, I’ll help show you the way to the guest room!” Alex volunteered, running after her mom.

“I’m gonna, uh, go to the bathroom so I can…look in the mirror—get an all-angles view,” James offered, avoiding eye contact as he took off for the bathroom.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Kara asked, turning to Winn and Lena, the only ones left at the table. “Does it not taste good? Let me try it.”

A panicked expression flashed across Lena’s face. “What? No, no!” Lena quickly spooned the remaining bites into her mouth and forced herself to swallow, pausing as a wave of nausea hit her. “All gone! So, so good. Couldn’t help myself…”

“Maybe Lucy still has some,” Winn suggested, praying Kara wouldn’t try to take his. He didn’t think he’d survive another bite.

“It tastes like feet,” Winn hissed.

“It’s not—it’s not that bad,” Lena protested, trying to defend Kara even as she swished her mouth with glass after glass of water.

“Really? Are you kidding?”

“Technically all of the ingredients taste good…on their own. And she made them by hand. Custard? Good. Jam? Good. Ladyfingers? Good. Meat? Good.”

“Yeah but then she mixed them all together with peas and onions and created the trifle from hell!”

Lena shushed him as Kara reemerged from the balcony with Lucy and Maggie in tow.

“So you’re telling me a bird just grabbed it, and then tried to fly away with it…and then just dropped it on the street?”

Lucy threw her arms up. “I know—crazy! What are the odds?”

“The bird did seem to be enjoying it before he dropped it,” Maggie chimed in, a broad smile on her face.

As everyone gradually reconvened in the living room—their plates having been mysteriously swept clean of any extra trifle—Alex grabbed Kara by the arm. “Now that mom’s all full of your…delicious trifle, you need to tell her.”

“You should be the one to tell her!” Kara insisted. “You’re just being chicken about admitting that you have two girlfriends.”

“Oh really? Would you like me to tell her that you lied about having been fired from CatCo?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t what, dear?” Eliza asked, having wandered over to her daughters.

Alex arched an eyebrow at Kara, who simply shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Alright, you know what? That’s it. You’ve had your chance.”

“What?” Kara spluttered.

“Mom, Kara got fired!”

“What?” Eliza asked, looking confused.

“Alex!” Kara cried out. “You’re such a tattletale!” Seeing Eliza’s raised eyebrows, Kara sighed. “Well, um, remember how I told you that I chose to take a short leave of absence from CatCo, just like Ms. Grant did?”

“Yes,” Eliza nodded.

“Well, technically, it wasn’t so much voluntary as it was required… But I got my job back since then!”

“She also lied and said she was the only one to save me from getting shipped to Cadmus,” Alex continued. Eliza glared at Lucy. “Lucy helped! And it was her idea in the first place, and she defended Supergirl from General Lane!”

“Remember that Christmas when the neighbors ran over our mailbox?” Kara asked, her voice raising now. “It was Alex!”

“Yeah, well, Hurricane Gloria didn’t break the porch swing. Kara’s super-strength did!”

“Alex is dating Lucy and Maggie, and they all live together!”

Eliza looked taken aback, and Kara clapped a hand to her mouth, instantly regretting having outed her sister.

“Kara got drunk on alien rum and broke into the DEO to have sex with her girlfriend in the kryptonite training room!”

Desperate to break the tension, Maggie yelled out, “I dreamt I married President Marsdin, and I wasn’t mad about it!”

“I spilled jam in the cookbook and got the pages stuck together,” Lena admitted, watching as Kara pulled it out of her bag and thumbed through the pages.

“Oh Rao, I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle!”

Taking a deep breath, Eliza massaged her temples. “That’s…a lot of information to get. Lena, thank you for admitting to the jam incident. Kara, no you were not supposed to put beef in the trifle. And it did not taste good. Maggie, I’m sorry dear, but I’m fairly certain she’s a little busy—as, apparently, are you three. Alex, why you felt you had to hide the fact that you had taken such an important step in your relationship…I thought we had moved past that.” Alex rubbed at the back of her neck, then reached out a hand to both Lucy and Maggie. But Eliza wasn’t quite done yet. “I…well, I figured as much about the porch swing…and the mailbox. You didn’t hide the laser vision scorch marks on the swing or the massive dent in Alex’s bumper. And Kara…why couldn’t you tell me these things? I thought we were—I thought we were closer than that.”

“I was…um, I thought I should have been better, should have been more responsible for myself and for Alex.”

Eliza nodded, holding out an arm as Kara tucked herself into her side. “And Lucy, well, apparently you’ve been looking after my daughters after all this time. Standing by Kara’s side with the drinking and the lying and getting no credit for your help. And now you’ve taken on Alex too.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know what to say. You’re a wonderful human being.”

Alex could feel Lucy inflate under the praise, and turned just in time to see her smiling broadly at Eliza, looking all too proud of herself.

“Told you she’d like you,” Alex murmured.

“No thanks to you two tattletale twins.”

“Hey,” Kara whined.

Lena chuckled. “No she’s right… There must be a special place in heaven for people that hung out with you two in high school.”

“I’ll have you know, I used to be quite popular,” Alex clarified.

Maggie nudged Alex’s side. “Used to be—I think the tense is key there, babe.”

#director sanvers #alex x maggie x lucy #crack #fluff #thanksgiving #supercorp #scholsen #alex danvers #kara danvers #lucy lane #maggie sawyer #lena luthor #winn schott #james olsen #eliza danvers #superfriends #fanfic #ao3feed

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maximuswolf · 4 years

Text

Just Venting. via /r/pagan

Just Venting.

*Sigh*...Recently, I was kicked from a group I was apart of and then blocked & ghosted by the members in the group. Why? Take a seat and let me tell you.

For a few weeks, I was apart of a small "coven" with five other members. Two of the members left before I was booted, so they don't apply to this story. Let's call the remaining three people who do apply to this story A, K, and S. It's also important to note that A & K are married.

In our group, we had decided to celebrate Mabon together. We had planned the gathering for weeks in advance. We had planned to get together at A & K's place for a potluck dinner and afterwards a ritual/spell in honor of the Autumn equinox (Again, we had been discussing this celebration for weeks in advance.)

A couple of days prior to the gathering, I was informed by K that we were going to be ordering pizza. When I was told we would be eating pizza, the only thing I could think of is "Pizza? Seriously...? Pizza? For Mabon?". Not only was I led to believe up until this point that we would be sitting down for a meal, I was blatantly shocked that A & K thought it would be appropriate to serve their guests pizza for a religious celebration/Sabbat. You wouldn't serve your guests pizza for Thanksgiving, why would you serve your guests pizza for Mabon? To be polite, I kept those thoughts to myself and let K know that I would be changing my contribution from baked apples, pumpkin pie, and a gallon of sweet tea to just a bag of chips since we were going to be having finger food and snacks instead of a proper meal.

The day comes when we were going to meet for Mabon. A picks me up. We make it back to their place. I walk in and the first thing I notice is that their place was not prepared for guests. As I was walking in, they had piles of random items thrown everywhere and nothing set up for the actual ritual that was supposed to be taking place.

The second thing I notice is that this pizza that they had mentioned previously was no where to be seen. I ask A where the pizza was? He replies "Oh, I guess we can order pizza if you'd like that." like they weren't aware that K had previously mentioned ordering pizza for us. What did they have? Chips and dips (not to mention, I had also brought a bad of my own chips) so, what did we have to eat so far? Chips and dip with a side of more chips. I was disappointed by their sheer lack of preparation. Where were we going to be holding our ritual? Where is the food that they said they'd have for us?

Moments later, S, the last member of the group arrived with their partner, two year old, and crockpot of BBQ pork in hand. I was relieved that we had some sort of dish to eat as previously we had only had chips. When A & K saw that S had brought pork, they scrambled to find a side dish to serve. What did the pull together? No other than microwaved broccoli.

To be polite, I ate a little of the dip that K had prepared for the chips and rejected any BBQ or broccoli under the excuse that I was "already so full".

I was deeply upset.

Why did the two people who agreed to host Mabon for a group of people no have any food (other than chips and dip) prepared? Why didn't they order the pizza like K said they would? Why was pizza an option in the first place? Why was their house visibly unprepared for guests and the activities that were supposed to take place?

I try to be an understanding and optimistic person, so I move my bad thoughts aside in hopes that the night would get better. It didn't.

The first hour we were together was focused on scrambling to get food prepared, watching over the two kids who were for some reason apart of everything and not put down for a nap, and talking about everything/anything but Mabon and the ritual we had came together to preform in the first place.

After we had all eaten and settled in, K asked me and the other guests (S and their partner) what we wanted to do.

Excuse me, what was that?

What do we want to do? The entire reason any of us came out was to celebrate Mabon as a group. At this point I was downright agitated that everything was going wrong. There was no food, no privacy from the meddling and loud children who ruined the atmosphere and what should have been the sacrality of the space we were gathered in, and now we were being asked what we wanted to do as we hadn't planned this gathering for weeks beforehand and knew exactly what we had gathered to do?

I. Was. Furious.

I calmly remind K that we had a ritual we had gathered to do. She gives me a quick, "Oh, yeah!" as if she had completely forgotten that we had planned for this ritual.

There was no preparation for this ritual. No ambience prep, no mental/physical prep, nothing. She whipped out her spellbook and was like, "are you guys ready!?" in the most sing-songy voice I've ever heard. I was disgusted by A & K's lack of preparation, but also their lack of respect and gratitude towards a religious/spiritual practice.

The "ritual" (which I wouldn't dare call what we did a legitimate ritual) which we "preformed" went just as messy as the rest of the night. We were supposed to be writing anything we wanted to rid ourselves of on leaves and then throw the leaves in a lit cauldron to burn away those negatives in our lives after reciting the spell. K decided that the spell was "too long" to recite and instead insisted that we each say only the first part of the spell before throwing our leaves in. Instead of properly and gracefully preforming the ritual, we all threw our leaves in at about the same time and half-assed the spell by each only reciting the first sentence. The ritual was rushed, unsatisfying, and the worst part of it all was one of the two kids wanted to be involved, so she was randomly throwing leaves in the caldron the entire time and sticking her arms and hands across the table to try to touch and grab things (which A or K didn't put a stop to).

After this terrible display of a "ritual" ended, I was fed up...I politely asked A to drive me back home under the excuse I needed to be home by X time. I hugged everyone on the way out and wished them well.

In the car, A could tell I was (visibly) upset. They asked me what was wrong. In the nicest way I could, I simply explained that the lack of preparation and organization as well as the lack of respect towards the religious/spiritual practices we had preformed rubbed me the wrong way. They agreed and said that both them and K could have been more prepared for the entire event. I told them that I understand that things happen sometimes, but after this mess of a gathering that I thought it was best if each of us took a step back to realize what we all wanted from the group and to rekindle after we all put some thought to that to see if we were all truly on the same/similar page and then have a discussion about future gatherings. A agreed again, said that they thought that could be a good idea, and right before dropping me off at home they nervously said: "I hope that you won't ghost us after this. Haha" I reassure them that I am not the type to ghost people and wished them a good night and was on my way.

They drove off.

The next day, I check my phone and notice that S had left the group we were all in. But instead of saying "S left the group" it had said "A contact left the group"...I go to check to find out that S had blocked me. I ask A if S had blocked them or K. A (acting innocent) calmly replied with "No? I don't think so?" before both A and K blocked me minutes later.

I hadn't said or done anything to them after the Mabon gathering. It was frustrating because the entire time I had a gut feeling that A & K were untrustworthy, conniving people because since day one they were huge shit talkers and would actively conspire against people...and I wasn't sure if I was being overly serious and judgmental to two people who very well could have been experiencing problems I didn't see/know about, but them being this shady confirms how bottom of the barrel they really were.

It's insufferably immature to ghost/block people without saying a word, especially considering that despite having the worst time at their place, I was still willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and work with them to see what would work best for everyone, when I myself could have easily ghosted and blocked them all (not to mention, A was the one who was originally worried I was going to ghost them! Projection much?)

Well. There you have it folks. My first (and hopefully LAST) experience with a drama-filled "coven".

Since this experience I've decided to stay away from groups/covens, especially online groups/covens and will be practicing solitarily until I meet the right people.

If you read this...thanks. Haha. It felt great to get this off my chest.

Submitted September 28, 2020 at 09:35PM by _Cotton__Candy_ via reddit https://ift.tt/2HGoyh9

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fandom-trash-xl · 6 years

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One-Shot: The Thankfulness of Saiyans

Time Placement: Thanksgiving Day, 1 Year After the Tournament of Power (Age 781)

The doorbell at Capsule Corporation rang as Bulma approached her family's dinner table, interrupting her current train of thought. "I'll get it!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "What could it be now? You've been keeping me waiting for ten straight minutes and I still can't take a bite of this succulent roasted bird?" He continuously eyed up the juicy turkey in the center of the table.

"Ugh, be patient, Vegeta. You'll get your food soon enough. It's a time for family, you shouldn't be entirely thinking about that bottomless pit you call a stomach." Bulma opened the door to the Capsule estate as her husband grunted in response. To her surprise, she saw a family of three at the door. A spiky-haired man in an orange fighting gi was at the front of the group. "Goku, Chi-Chi! What a surprise to see you here!" Vegeta nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Yep. We're here. Sorry, it's on such short notice. We're only here because someone," Chi-Chi glared at Goku. "ate the entire turkey last night."

Goku scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "You can't blame me, Chi-Chi. The way you set it out made it look so appetizing..."

"Goku, it was in the back of the fridge for a reason." She turned away from her husband to face Bulma again. "Of course, we couldn't head to Gohan and Videl's because they're off in the city to see the other side of the family. So, we came here as a last resort."

"Oh, of course. Thanksgiving is always a challenge when you have a Saiyan for a husband, am I right?" The two wives laughed in unison.

As Goku and his family walked up to the Briefs dinner table, Vegeta attempted to turn out his seat and leave. "Umm, I-I don't think I'm feeling so well..."

"Sit back down, Vegeta!" Bulma insisted. "You're not fooling anyone with that act."

Vegeta growled and returned to his initial position in the chair. "Fine, but there is no way that I'm sitting next to Kaka--" The Saiyan was interrupted by the unfolding of a metal chair between him and Bulla's highchair. Of course, the person who sat in said chair was none other than Kakarot himself. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"Hey, Vegeta." Kakarot, a.k.a Goku, was partially slouched in the folding chair. "How's your Thanksgiving going?"

"It was going fine." Vegeta held his head in his palm.

Once everyone was seated, Goten, who was sitting on the other side of the table next to Trunks, raised his hand. "Oh! Can I say grace?" He asked.

"Aww, sure thing, Goten." Bulma cooed. "Go right ahead."

"Okay. We have a traditional saying of grace in our house." The half-Saiyan closed his eyes. "Thanks for the grub!" He reopened them no less than a second later. Bulma and Chi-Chi facepalmed. There was no doubt he learned it from his father.

"Let's just get to eating..." Bulma sighed. Within seconds, the two Saiyans had managed to swipe two bowls of food from the center of the table.

By the time an individual bowl came to Chi-Chi and Bulma, it was already approaching the bottom. Typical hungry Saiyans.

As the mashed potatoes started going around the table, Chi-Chi began small talk.

"So, Bulma, how are the kids?"

Bulma frowned. "Well, this week, Bulla picked up a new word."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Is it wrong to ask what word?"

The young child answered for her mother. "Kakawot!" She squealed, raising her hands in the air and kicking out her feet. "Kakawot!"

"Holy cow!" Goku seemed alarmed. "How does Bulla know my Saiyan name?"

"She learned it from Mr. Saiyan Pride over there." Bulma pointed to Vegeta from across the table, who stopped scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate and blushed.

After a few seconds, Goku piped in. "Hey, Vegeta. Pass the mashed potatoes." Without giving Vegeta a chance to process, the Saiyan grabbed the bowl and started serving himself.

"Hey! I wasn't done with that!" Vegeta barked.

"Well, you were taking longer than five Mississippi's." Goku continued to pile on potatoes. "So, you snooze, you lose." He stuck out his tongue, which was very unlike him.

"Oh ho ho... You want to go, Kakarot?!" Vegeta stood up.

Goku did so as well. "Bring it on!" Both Saiyans' hair lit up and turned solid gold. Vegeta swung his arm in an attempt to hit Goku, only for him to duck and attempt to punch the Saiyan in the gut in return. Neither one managed to land a hit before they were interrupted.

"Goku!"

"Vegeta!"

The two Super Saiyans turned to see their not-so-happy wives.

"No Super Saiyan at the table!" The two women yelled in unison.

Vegeta and Goku's hair returned to their black color and they sat down in embarrassment.

The two Saiyans were sitting awkwardly next to each other. Not speaking. Not even looking at each other. Just eating in awkward silence. That was until there was a loud thump from the basement.

"W-What was that?" Trunks asked.

"I don't know." Bulma turned to Vegeta and Goku. "You guys want to check it out?"

"Of course, you ask us." Vegeta rolled his eyes and continued to chow down on some sweet potatoes. He didn't know why humans continuously requested the strongest Saiyans on the planet to take care of their simple tasks. It was probably due to cowardice.

"Will you go down there or not?" Bulma growled.

"Fine, but I'm going alone." The Saiyan stood up.

"No. You're going down with Kaka-- I mean, Goku!" She pointed towards the stairs. "You too need to get along or at least take your fighting elsewhere."

"FINE!" Both Saiyans grumped, as they went downstairs, surprisingly, not taking their dishes with them. They ave each other glares strong enough to create sparks. Bulma knew things probably weren't gong to turn out so pretty and she was having second thoughts. But, it was too late. The door had already closed.

In the basement, they discovered a tall figure in a dark coat.

"W-who is that?" Goku asked.

"I don't know."

They approached the figure further, before it sharply turned around, revealing its face, which was familiar and a menacing purple.

"Hit!" The two Saiyans yelled in unison. They charged towards the assassin, both wondering how he got into their universe. However, the Universe 6 fighter disappeared in a blink of an eye and reappeared to leave twin scratches on their cheeks.

"What are you doing in Universe 7, Hit?" Goku asked, as he brushed a bit of blood off of the scrape on his face.

"Wondering why Saiyans have fighting as their built-in first instinct." Hit made a not-very-obvious sarcastic remark.

"Why are you here for real?" Vegeta rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll tell you." Hit put his hands in his pockets. "I'm searching for the Super Dragon Balls."

"Why didn't you say that to start?" Goku inquired.

"Because you tried to beat me up." The assassin shrugged. "I was told a woman who lived here had a detector for them."

"Oh, you mean the Super Dragon Radar?" The younger Saiyan opened a box and pulled out a small glowing disc. "Here you go!"

Vegeta swatted it out of his hand. "Oh no, you are not giving that to Hit of all people. He's probably going to wish for immortality or to murder us in the blink of an eye!" The Saiyan stopped himself. "Crap. I'm giving him ideas."

Hit shrugged, picked the radar up off the ground, and turned away.

"Kakarot, you just gave an assassin the gateway to the most powerful Dragon Balls in existence. Remember what happened with Zamasu?!" Vegeta barked.

"It'll be fine..." Goku started walking towards the steps. "He can't do something that bad. Besides, we should be getting back to the good food. Come on!" Vegeta immediately forgot what he was talking about.

As they headed upstairs, Vegeta turned to his rival. "Kakarot?"

"Yes?"

"I'm actually kind of thankfully that you came. I have a lot to thank you for. Had you not prompted me to go to Earth, I'd probably not have the life I have now. I'd never had met Bulma or started this family of mine. To be honest, I'd probably still be working under Frieza and believing I was a Super Saiyan."

"Aww, that's thoughtful, Vegeta." Goku scruffed the shorter Saiyan's hair.

"Don't make me regret my words."

Vegeta and Goku stood shocked at the sight on the dinner table. There was absolutely nothing left on the table with the exception of the two plates they had abandoned.

"W-Where is everything?!" Goku yelped.

"I see you didn't kill each other. But, where'd you two get the scratches?" Bulma changed the subject.

"We were fighting raccoons. Now, where's the food?! The turkey? The stuffing? The cranberries?" Vegeta demanded, slamming his hands on the table.

"We ate it all!" Goten explained.

"What?!" Goku nearly passed out until Vegeta caught him.

"Then, what are we supposed to eat?"

Chi-Chi pointed to the two plates of cold food. The two Saiyans sighed in disappointment. All they had left of the precious Thanksgiving dinner were clots of room temperature potatoes, the stalks of collard greens, and a few intermittent corn kernels. They had not even eaten a smidgen of the succulent turkey breast with an aroma strong enough to fill a whole household. It was now gone in an instant, as if it had teleported away. Vegeta and Goku sadly took their seats and feasted on the remains on the meal that had escaped their grasp.

The next day, somewhere in the cosmos...

Hit, accompanied by Vados, stood in the interior of Super Shenron, sweat engulfing his body from the mere presence of the divine dragon. Part of his body's sweaty coating was from concern... concern that his wish may not be granted.

"Hit-san, have you prepared a wish? We're inside the dragon now, so I guess there is no turning back." Vados turned to the trembling assassin. She had never seen Hit in this state before. "Whisper it to me and I'll translate."

"Yes." The assassin finally spoke. "But, never tell anyone I requested this wish." He whispered something into Vados' ear. When he pulled back, the angel seemed surprised.

"My! That's not a wish I'd expect from you!"

"Just say the wish already." Hit wasn't himself. He was never nervous, nor one to to get frustrated easily.

"Okay. I understand." Vados cleared her throat and began to speak in the divine tongue. "Xis Esrevinu fo Nijeci eht Tsorf fo efil eht erotser!"

Super Shenron was quiet for a moment, racking up Hit's anxiety further, before declaring, "Detnarg neeb sah hsiw ruoy." Hit gave a small smile. Of all the divine language he knew, he understood that it meant that his wish was granted.

The golden dragon dispersed into light, allowing Hit and Vados to land safely down on top of a small moon-like planet. A few seconds passed before another glow appear and melted into a mortal being rather than a dragon. It was a blue lizard-like creature with what seemed to be a gem encapsulating its head. Two black horns stuck out from the head's sides. The being also wore a set of gray armor. Hit marveled the form as it fully completed itself and drifted slowly to the ground.

"Welcome back to existence," Hit paused dramatically. "Frost."

"Hit!" Frost yelped as he began to stumble backwards, almost off of the small moon. "W-What are you doing here? W-What are you going to do with me?"

"Relax, Frost. I didn't wish you back to kill you--"

The Icejin interrupted. "Wait a minute. You brought me back?"

"Yeah." Hit shrugged. "Is there a problem with that?"

Frost dashed up to Hit and squeezed him by the waist. "Thank you..." He whispered.

"No problem."

#dragon ball super #dragon ball z #oneshot #Happy Thanksgiving #A little surprise at the end...

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stretchjournalemerson · 4 years

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Keep the Pie Right Side Up

By Daniela Lee Hoyos

46 million turkeys are sold in the U.S. every Thanksgiving, it is a very American tradition, and families take it very seriously here. But oddly, most of my Thanksgivings happened in Bogota, Colombia. My very American, tall, blond, blue-eyed Grandmother from Indiana fell in love with a very Colombian man and moved to Colombia after marriage. My Grandfather studied at a university in Bogota and had an exchange program with a catholic college in Fort Wayne, Indiana. For someone who lived in a country that had no seasons, going to an exchange program for the spring semester in Indiana meant living under the snow for three months. My Grandmother and Grandfather never had classes together since they studied very different things but they would meet up for lunch and my Grandma would invite him to eat at her house. My American family would laugh at my Grandfather for being so underprepared for winter and would serve him a cup of hot chocolate he would hate because he missed the bitter, mouth-watering, dark roast black coffee from home. After the semester ended their love lived through letters that would take four days to arrive, until my Grandpa went back to visit and asked her to be his wife. He couldn’t imagine a life without her. They moved to Colombia a few days after the marriage and have lived there ever since.

I was born in Manhattan on June 9, 2001, 4 months and 3 days before the twin tower attack. My Grandparents freaked out about this and didn’t really like going to NY to visit. Thanksgiving was really important for my Grandma so every time that time of the year came along we would fly into Bogota to have that meal.

On Thanksgiving 2008 I was already living in Colombia since I moved there from New York. This meant that we would actually help out with the cooking. At around 11 A.M. my Grandfather picked my sister and me up from our house in his big, box-like Jeep. I remember him honking the horn that sounded like a 16 wheeler truck on a highway. My sister and I ran down the stairs, leaping from the excitement that my Grandma had invited us to go bake pies. We jumped up and down in the car on the way to my Grandparent’s house. Once we arrived we ran up the stairs with my Grandpa’s dog who had come along for the trip. My Grandma had already opened the door because she said she could hear us all the way up the stairs.

My Grandmother extended her arms open with excitement to see us and her cookie scent filled me with joy. Her bright, blue eyes looked into mine as she smiled. I headed straight to the kitchen ready to bake the pies, my Grandma had already set everything up for us. I hung a red apron around my neck and tied a bow with the two strings hanging behind my back. My Grandma said, “Lucia go to the counter next to the sink and start reading the instructions for the apple pie, and Daniela go to the counter next to the oven and start reading the instructions for the banana cream pie.” I headed to the counter and found myself reading the instructions and pointing at each ingredient that my Grandma had left out for me to simply mix in the bowl. “Traeme Cocola Dani porfa,” my Grandpa screamed from the living room. I served him a glass of coke and I sat on his lap as he told me about his day. I kind of forgot I was supposed to be in the kitchen helping my Grandmother until she called my name for me to go back. Tito laughed and I jumped off of his lap and ran back to the kitchen.

I started to put the dry ingredients together in a bowl and began mixing them together, my Grandma had told me to not dare mix the wet and dry ingredients until she told me to, or it wouldn’t end up right. To this day I still don’t understand the theory behind that since it all ends up together anyway but I followed her instructions. Once I had the filling done, she told me to get the crust from the fridge. The scent of graham crackers filled my nose and reminded me of the summer when I was at camp. I placed the pie crust in its plate on the counter and filled the base with the filling. I later sliced the bananas that my Grandma passed me, clumsy me cut my finger in the process. My Grandma’s nickname for me never failed to show its meaning: “Grace,” she laughed in a sarcastic tone as she put my finger under cold water and put a nude-pink bandage around my finger. I took the apron off and sat on my Grandma’s bed watching the discovery channel as she baked both pies in addition to the pecan pie she was making simultaneously.

She called me back to the kitchen to take my masterpiece out of the oven. She put a blue glove on my right hand and a red one on my left hand and told me to pull the pie out carefully to not drop it. “Plop.” Well, I blame her for jinxing it. There it was my banana cream pie straight out of the oven face down on the kitchen floor. I looked up fearful to see her reaction because she was dead silent. Once my eyes met her eyes she cracked up in laughter and had to sit down because of how hard she was laughing. Her humor is something I miss the most. I cracked up with her and it took us around 15 minutes to turn the pie over because each time we went back to pick it up our uncontrollable laughter would start again. We were finally able to control our laughter and flip the pie back over. It honestly didn’t look that bad, the only thing was that the filling looked a little smooshed and the meringue didn’t have its full effect. My Grandma scraped the top and told me, “it’s our little secret.” That night we all enjoyed the meal and even my downside up banana cream pie and no one even found out it had fallen down.

This year’s Thanksgiving wasn’t quite the same, the laughter wasn’t there. It was all the echo of her presence. The turkey tasted different, the green beans looked soggy, the potatoes were dry. It just wasn’t the same. She wasn’t there. As the banana cream pie came from the kitchen it smelled the same, it looked the same, and it probably tasted the same; I wouldn’t know I didn’t have the guts to eat a piece. The hands bringing the pie from the kitchen weren’t my beautiful grandmother’s wrinkled, tissue paper hands. They were my mom’s. It hit me, I felt the hole inside people talk about when they deal with loss. It all came with the banana cream pie, a little piece of her came into that room that day saying hello with the sweet scent she always had.

Banana Cream Pie

Remember those Thanksgiving dinners over at your Grandmother’s house? After being fully stuffed from varieties of cornbreads, stuffing, vegetables, turkey, and gravy? And then suddenly you see your Grandma come out of the kitchen with a freshly baked pie? Your favorite. Well, this is what Thanksgiving looked like for me, and thanks to my Grandma I am able to share this family recipe with you. It might seem like a tedious task but believe me, you and your guests will find it extremely rewarding once you get the first bite into this pie.

Ingredients for crust:

1 ½ cups crushed graham crackers

⅓ cup of sugar

½ cup melted shortening or butter

Add sugar to the crushed graham crackers and add shortening/butter into the mixture.

Mix well and press the pastry into a greased 9-inch pie pan. Chill until set (around 45 minutes).

Ingredients for filling:

¼ cup cornstarch

⅔ cup of sugar

6 tablespoons of sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons butter

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups of milk

3 scalded, stiff beaten egg whites

3 slightly beaten egg yolks

2-3 bananas

Mix the sugar, salt, and cornstarch; gradually add milk.

Place mixture in a double boiler for about 10 minutes or until thick. (stir constantly)

Slowly add a small amount of the hot mixture to the egg yolks, and add it back to the remaining hot mixture and stir properly.

Put back into a double boiler for 5 minutes.

Add butter and vanilla and stir until fully mixed, put the mixture to the side and let cool.

In a bowl whisk the egg whites with added 6 tablespoons of sugar to form the coating merengue.

Pour the mixture into the set crust shell and add 2-3 sliced bananas on top. Spread the meringue on top and place pie into a moderate oven (350 degrees Celsius) 12 to 15 minutes.

Enjoy!

Tip: Make sure you keep the pie off the ground, it makes the process easier.

Works Cited

“Turkey Facts.” Turkey Facts - Turkey for Holidays - University of Illinois Extension, web.extension.illinois.edu/turkey/turkey_facts.cfm.

#stretch2020 #stretch journal #emersoncollege #thanksgiving #pie recipe #memoir

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nickireadstfc · 7 years

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The Raven King, Chapter 11 – WHAT THE FUCK

In which Thanksgiving happens.

Sounds good? No, it doesn’t. But it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

I was not Ready.

I was a sweet, sweet summer child.

WHAT THE SHIT JUST HAPPENED.

I WAS NOT THE FUCK READY.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT’S BEEN FOUR HOURS SINCE READING AND I STILL CAN’T FUCKING D E A L WITH THIS.

Alright. Hold up, hold up.

I will get to the absolute FUCKERY that is this TRAINWRECK OF A CHAPTER in a minute.

But first – shopping.

Kevin stopped sniping about the road trip when he realized he could get something out of it.

They go to Exites, which is kind of dream candy land for people with Exy boners, to get Neil a few new racquets, just because they can.

To be honest, I skimmed through most of this bit in order to get to the fuckery that was promised to me at Nicky’s house.

TLDR; Kevin is buying Neil heavier racquets in order to fulfil his quest of becoming Surpreme Exy Master. What else is new.

Also, how do you pronounce “Exites”? Exits? Exit-ee-s? Exités? Wtf is this word.

There’s one bit that got my attention, though: A prime fucking Andreil Moment for the books, right there in between the racks of Exy racquets – how fitting, considering the Hot Bod Meets Racquet Incident from when they met.

“Here’s a real question: how have you survived this long when you’re so violently self-destructive?”

Hooo boy, it’s Real Talk Time.

He wondered why no one else had caught on, or if people noticed and just didn’t care enough to say it. (…) The focus was on what a danger he was. People talked about his trial and how it saved them from Andrew. No one said what they were doing to save Andrew from himself.

But Neil :’)))))))) noticed :’)))))))) and cares :’)))))))))) ma BOYS

“When they finally take your medicine away, who are you going to hurt, really?”

Andrew laughed. “I’m remembering why I don’t like you.”

“I’m surprised you forgot.”

“I didn’t,” Andrew said. “I just got distracted for a moment there.”

Mhmm, distracted by what exactly, mon ami.

Andrew put a hand over Neil’s mouth to shut him up and said, “Liar. But that’s what makes you interesting. It’s also what makes you dangerous. I should know better by now. Maybe I’m not as smart as I thought I was. Should I be disappointed or amused?”

Seriously, all later drama aside, let’s not forget what a fucking Andreil chapter this is. Like. AM I READING THIS SHIT WITH MY OWN TWO EYES.

The answer was there, right out of reach, close enough Neil could feel it, but too far for him to make sense of. Maybe Andrew felt it too, because even in his drugged haze he knew to shut up. The smile he flashed Neil mocked them both at that near-miss.

For real AM I HALLUCINATING THIS TO GIVE ME SOMETHING NICE TO MAKE UP FOR MY INEVITABLE BREAKDOWN LATER OR???

And then Kevin and Important Exy Business comes in to ruin the moment. Shame.

They get Neil’s racquets, they pay about the price of a nice sports car for them (“If Coach has a problem with the number he can take it up with me, but he should know how expensive I am by now.”, jfc Kevin chill it with the Extra will you), and then they are finally going to the Hemmick’s place.

From the outside, the house looked perfect. The lawn and vibrant green and neatly trimmed, the cars in the driveway were new and clean, and the house was a pale blue with dark shutters.

Meaning: There are at least three bodies hidden in our basement.

Andrew gave [the racquet] an experimental twirl, judging the weight of it, then propped it against his shoulder and started for the other cars. (…)

“He’s got a really shiny car for a minister,” Andrew said. “I’m going to humble it.”

Bahahaha. I actually had to laugh at that. Please do.

Nicky does not agree with me, however, and takes the racquet from him, leaving it in the entrance hall of his parents’ house.

Speaking of: PARENTS.

Nicky’s mum can’t even tell her own nephews apart, which is just honestly a great fucking start.

“Hello, Maria. How very, very nice to see you again, I’m sure. Very interesting, you letting us back in your house and all. I thought you were going to file a restraining order against me. What happened, did you lose your nerve?”

For some reason, I dislike Andrew’s sass as much as I like Neil’s. His drugged sass, that is – nothing against a good Minyard one-liner. But I still find his mock-cheery, vicious friendliness more uncomfortable and at times even annoying than anything else.

And Nicky’s dad?

About as cool a dude as an uptight bigoted Christian minister can get.

Which is to say - not fucking cool.

Even across the room Neil could see the tense set to his shoulders (…) Neil hoped that Luther was uncomfortable because he intended to relax old prejudices.

I will bet you literally any amount that he fucking does not.

“Are you religious?”

“No,” Neil said. (…)

“Why not?”

“I’d rather not get into it,” Neil said. “I don’t want to start a fight.”

“That’s a first,” Andrew said with a laugh.

I was about so say the same damn thing. Like – Neil “Attitude Problem” Josten, Neil “Attitude Problem” Josten, Neil “Attitude Problem” Josten – doesn’t want to start a fight?

It follows the most awkward meal I’ve encountered in a long time – polite conversation, forced as shit, with pauses in between and exactly no one enjoying themselves.

Then –

“You’re going back to Germany?” Maria shot her husband a startled look.

Nicky’s jaw tightened, but he looked his mother in the eye when he said, “Yes. Erik’s career is there. I wouldn’t ask him to leave just for me, and I wouldn’t want him to, anyway. I loved living in Germany. It’s an amazing place. You should visit us sometime.”

Nicky my boy I am so proud of you. I am seriously so proud right in this very moment.

Looking your mom, who has basically kicked you out for being who you are, right in the eye and refusing to be anything other than who you are takes serious, serious guts. <3

“We cannot condone sin,” Maria said.

“You don’t have to love the sin,” Nicky said, “but you’re supposed to forgive and love the sinner. Isn’t that what faith is about?”

“Faith is about following our Lord’s creed,” Luther said.

My eyes are rolling so far back in my skull they actually hurt.

WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS.

“We have committed to repairing this family.” (…)

“Enlighten us,” Andrew said. (…) “If the first step isn’t tolerance, where does a pair of bigots begin in fixing a mess like this?”

Luther met Andrew’s stare with a calm one of his own. “With reparations for past mistakes. That is why you are here.”

With these cryptic words, Luther and Andrew disappear into the kitchen after dinner for some Fun Talk Times, of which we hear exactly nothing. Then, Luther comes back – Andrew doesn’t.

And when Neil inquires after what’s taking Andrew so long – that is when I start understanding why everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE, has warned me about this chapter.

“In fact, I think it’s promising he has been gone this long. He’ll come back when he’s finished speaking with Drake.”

Neil’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

SAME, NEIL.

FUCKING WHAT.

“This dinner was not originally our idea,” Luther said. “One of Andrew’s former foster brothers came to us for help. They parted on unfriendly terms years ago, and it’s been so long since they last spoke he’s afraid their relationship is irreparably damaged. It made us think of our own familial problems and we were inspired to reach out again.”

This was the moment I started gripping my book so tight I almost ripped it, and did not let go until the chapter was over.

Neil gets his massive racquet, gets Aaron, and gets the fuck up the stairs to find Andrew.

And Andrew he finds.

I’m not quoting anything graphic here because we all fucking know what happens and I don’t wanna make anyone read that again but WHAT THE FUCK.

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCVK

At first I’d just thought they’d had a fight, shared a few punches, and then it HIT ME and I was SCREAMING, I HAVE NOT STOPPED SCREAMING FOR FOUR HOURS NOW WHAT THE F U C K.

And if all that wasn’t enough –

Neil saw too much blood and too much skin. He knew what he was seeing, knew what this meant, but couldn’t believe it yet. That didn’t stop him from leaping at Drake.

Aaron was faster.

AARON. FUCKING AARON.

WHAT ARE YOU THE FUCK DOING WHAT HAVE YOU DONE OH MY G O D.

THIS BOOK JUST WENT FROM ‘EDGY AND ANGSTY WITH A DASH OF IMPLIED VIOLENCE’ TO ‘ACTUALLY ILLEGALY VIOLENT AS IN FUCKING M U R D E R’ IN THE SPAN OF THREE PAGES.

WHAT

THE

FUCK

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Andrew wore only his shirt as he lay facedown on the mattress. He was covered in blood and a hundred shadows that would darken to terrible bruises. He held onto the headboard like he was glued to it, and he was laughing.

Cue the moment my heart fucking broke.

“Got quiet all of a sudden,” Andrew said, sounding surprised. (…) “Oh, oh, that’s unpleasant. I am not a fan of this at all.” (…) Andrew’s grin was wide and savage as he mocked his own pain.

Andrew. Andrew. ANDREW.

I cannot even put my feelings into words, just – ANDREW.

The strangled noise Aaron made was his best attempt at Andrew’s name. Andrew, who’d barely acknowledged Aaron’s existence in the entire time Neil had known them, looked immediately to his brother. (…)

“Andrew,” Aaron said, desperate and frightened. He held onto Andrew like he thought Andrew would disappear if he let go.

AARON. Andrew. Aaron. AARON AND ANDREW.

This is the first time I see them as brothers, not just as two people who happen to look the same. They didn’t even look the same in my head before.

Now they do, and I can picture them clear as day, sitting on a blood-splattered bed, two identical small blonde figures clinging onto each other as if their lives depend on it.

Don’t ask me if I am fucking okay. Don’t.

Andrew touched Aaron’s temple where he himself was injured as if he expected to find an identical injury there. “Did he touch you?”

HOW IS THAT YOUR MAIN PRIORITY RIGHT NOW.

I have a very, very clear idea of how that is his main priority right now. And I am NOT FCUKING LIKING IT WHAT THE SHITS.

Oh, look – the rest of the family is here.

You know what’s also here?

The fucking pinpoint moment I start going from ‘I guess I like Andrew he has cool moments and he’s an interesting character’ to ‘I LOVE THIS MURDER MANIAC KITTEN MORE THAN MYSELF AND I WANT TO PROTECT HIM ALWAYS’

“Don’t ask what. You know better. (…) Or do you still think this is a big misunderstanding? Go on, tell me again how I’m too unbalanced to understand normal brotherly love and affection. Tell me this is natural.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.

IS THAT WHAT HAPPENED, PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME, WHAT THE FUCK.

“Speaking of misunderstandings, am I remembering this wrong, or didn’t you promise me you would talk to Cass? You told me she wasn’t going to foster any more children after me, but apparently she’s had six more since I left juvie. (…) How many do you think were in her house when Drake was home between deployments?”

NO FUCK NO, IS THIS FOR REAL WHAT!!!!!!!!! THE SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

“Now you let him into your house,” Andrew said. “You put him under the same roof as your son, as my brother. After everything I did to keep them away from each other?”

This is decidedly NOT GOING INTO A DIRECTION I’M LIKING.

They didn’t know. They didn’t know about all this shit, nobody knew, this has happened so many times before, and nobody knew, and the only person who did know, the only person Andrew opened up to, told him he had misunderstood being raped.

I am going to be fucking sick.

Andrew peeled his armbands off one at a time and dropped them into Neil’s lap.

He said something, but Neil didn’t hear him. The pale shade of scarred skin was too familiar and too startling for him not to react.

Sorry to disappoint – I’d love to be all shocked about this, except I’ve seen a billion pieces of fanart with his scars, and I also kinda had the idea myself already.

Not shocked does not mean not emotional, however. ANDREW.

A N D R E W.

The chapter is over. They’re waiting for the police and the ambulance, and the chapter is done, and I had to stuff my arm into my mouth so many times to keep me from screaming.

I have never loved Andrew more than in this very minute. Never. I am now sold on this character.

He could probably bench-press me with his attitude alone and definitely does not need my protection, but I will still protect the absolute everloving fuck out of him.

I need a moment. Or fifty.

Nicki out.

#nicki reads tfc #tfc #trk #aftg #the foxhole court #the raven cycle #all for the game #tw rape #tw violence #tw death #you guys should know these but I'm putting them on here anyways because that shit is hardcore #I'm not even adding my kofi info this time i am so SHOOK #if ya wanna you know where to find a link #Imma need a break

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sheepydraws · 7 years

Text

I'll Kick Your Ass! I'll Kick My Fiancee's Ass! I'll Kick My Own Ass! (7/11)

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

The Three Weeks Before Winter Break:

QUIET ZONE

NO TALKING, EATING, OR MUSIC BEYOND THIS POINT.

PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL OF OTHER LIBRARY GOERS.

From: Ghostsunkgi

To: TKuno

I got plenty of info for you about Nabiki Tendo:

The Basics: Birthdate, family, hometown.

The Social Media: Got her facebook, linked in, instagram, and two tumblr accounts (cute aesthetic one, fandom one).

The Personal: Movies she likes, hobbies, possible phobias, relationships she’s been in, etc. and it’s all in the attached document.

I’m going to be upfront about this, though, and say that I’m sorry. I couldn’t find any life ruining stuff. I heard the school’s investigated her once or twice, but they couldn’t find anything. I thought I could get you some proof that she’s doing something illegal enough to warrant getting the authorities involved, but turns out the prescription medication she sells is hormonal stuff. Testosterone, birth control, nothing the cops would actually want to check out.

However, as a psyc major, I can offer you a rudimentary psychological profile. I believe that Nabiki’s obsession with money stems from her family. They are well-to-do, but not particularly well off, and after losing her mother at a young age Nabiki is constantly craving stability. Now, since she is a very smart girl she does not see stability as something akin to stagnation, but rather focuses on earning money so that no matter what happens she doesn’t have to fear that she will suddenly lose all of life’s little comforts. She is not a sociopath, nor a narcissist, but does focus on herself, and what might happen to her in the outcome of any scenario. As such she is not as much of a risk taker as her little storefront might suggest.

I believe, if you wish to manipulate her you focus on either giving or depriving her of money, or otherwise very directly threatening or aiding her way of life.

From: TKuno

To: Ghostsunkgi

I did not ask for a goddamn psychological profile, I asked you to find out something about Nabiki Tendo that, if exposed, could ruin her life. I am out almost two hundred dollars and you have told me nothing I couldn’t have told you!

From Ghostsunkgi

To TKuno

Good thing you didn’t want a psychological profile, because if I wrote one on you all it would say is that you’re batshit crazy.

Facebook Messenger:

Ukyo: Hey, are you okay?

Ryoga: I’m fine.

Ukyo: I feel like I haven’t seen you since before thanksgiving. I haven’t even heard if you had fun at Shampoo’s!

Ryoga: It was fine. We watched a lot of lame stuff on the internet and I got to know her family a little. It was fine.

Ukyo: Oh my god. You wrote ‘it was fine’ twice. Did someone die?

Ryoga; No. It was boring. Nothing happened.

Facebook Messenger:

Ukyo: Do you have time to catch lunch with me?

Shampoo: Can’t.

Ukyo: Did something happen over thanksgiving break?

Shampoo: No. It was fine. Thanksgiving isn’t really a big deal for my family.

Ukyo: You mean absolutely nothing happened? Not one dumb story to tell me over dinner?

Shampoo: Nothing that’s worth taking time off studying to talk about. Ukyo, I’m swamped. Maybe we could have lunch this weekend.

Ukyo: Fine.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Akari,

I can’t wait to see you again. Things here are so strange. I want to say it’s the lack of parental supervision, but I can’t anymore.

I hope things aren’t this crazy at your school. People beating each other up, and always upset, and no one you can talk to because you’re kind of ashamed of yourself and who wants to talk to you when even you hate yourself?

Remember high school? Drama only in the carefully allotted time slots between classes? Teachers telling you to apologize? Throwing pencil cases to your friends and watching them burst open, spilling highlighters and pencils and a million little slips of paper, and just laughing?

I really can’t wait to be home. I want to lie on my bed and….That’s it. Lie on my bed and listen to the silence. The rain. The occasional car rolling by. I want to lie down and sleep and let everything flow around me for a while.

And then maybe you and I could get some dinner.

Miss you.

Facebook Messenger

Ranma: Hey, Nabiki, can you lend me fifty bucks?

Nabiki: Ahahahahaha

Ranma: Please? I’ll pay you back. I just don’t have much right now, and I don’t want to use my card and have dad see the charge.

Nabiki: Hahahahahahahaha

Ranma: I know we’re not close, but you’re the only person I’m on good terms with who could just drop fifty bucks.

Nabiki: WAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ranma: I’m trying to get my birth certificate and it costs fifty bucks.

Nabiki: Okay, I’m no longer uninterested, but I still don’t want to be involved, so I tell you what, give me fifty bucks, I’ll send in the fifty for the certificate, with my card or whatever. K?

Ranma: Got it.

A piece of paper, passed back and forth over the walls of two study corrals:

Sorry to intrude, but are you crying?

Yeah.

Stress?

No. Yes. The stress isn’t helping, but honestly, I’ve felt awful since the 25th. I fucked up. Can I tell you about it?

I don’t mind, but if you tell me something super personal I’ll feel like I have to tell you something.

Really? You go first. Then you can say whatever you feel comfortable saying, and it doesn’t have to be as fucked up and intense as my thing.

Okay. I got my first kiss at a halloween party this year, with some dude I don’t even know, and I feel kind of guilty, but mostly pissed that I didn’t get his name before he left.

You got masked man-ed! Was he wearing a tuxedo mask costume?

No. Batman.

Damn. Then I could have told you who he was. I gave Ryoga that costume so he could try and seduce Akane Tendo, but I think he fucked up and seduced someone else or something.

You know Ryoga Hibiki?

Sure. Fuck. He’s kind of why I’m all messed up. I kissed him, even though I know he has a girlfriend so that he would beat up a guy for me, and that guy tried to gut him, so I beat his face in, and now he’s not talking to me, Ryoga can’t look at me, and I can’t look at Ukyo because what kind of person am I?

Christ. You’re right, that is fucked up, but it takes at least two people for a total fuck up. I mean, that Ryoga guy has a girlfriend, and was going after that other girl AND you.

No, this was my fault. I invited Ryoga over cause I thought it would be an easy way to avoid Mousse, and then I kissed him cause I thought he could solve my Mousse problem permanently, and then things went crazy, and now there is no easy way out.

There never is. Even doing nothing, keeping your mouth shut, pretending everything’s alright for the sake of convenience—That sounds like the easy way, but it’s so fucking hard it hurts.

I know you’re right, but doing stuff is hard too.

Well, you did something about your Mousse problem. I have a feeling he’s not bugging you anymore?

Ha. You’re right. Our mom’s are fighting fit to kill each other-your daughter beat up my son, your son had a knife!-but at least they agree that we should be kept apart.

Is that better than how it was?

Yeah. I wish it hadn’t gone down like that, though.

That’s what happens when you just leave things to build and build.

Guess that means I should go talk to Ukyo and Ryoga before things get stupid like that. You sound like you really have your life together.

Please. I’m engaged, fantasizing about a guy I met once, and just realized that I might have to ‘break up with’ a guy who I thought was my friend. And that’s just my love life. I’ve still got a couple hours worth of studying to do, but I’m going back to my room and crashing so I can get some sleep in before dinner.

PS: I won’t tell Ryoga you’re the one who told me about all this. Sounds like you two already have plenty to work out together.

From: TKuno

To: Nabiki Tendo

Dear Nabiki,

Thanks to the services of a hired man undertaken over thanksgiving break, I know your devastating secret.

From: Nabiki Tendo

To: TKuno

Man, I left you to stew, but I didn’t think you would boil over. Oh, how would I live if word ever got out? Kuno, please don’t tell anyone.

From TKuno

To Nabiki Tendo

I suppose if you can agree to never release those photos, I could conveniently take another blow to the head and forget everything I have learned about you, no matter how disgusting.

From Nabiki Tendo

To TKuno

OH MY GOD

You think I’ve never heard a bluff before? You have nothing on me, and you want to know how I know it?

Face facts Kuno-babe: You fucked up, and you can’t get back at me because I’ve played it cleaner than you. You couldn’t keep yourself in check, just had to do some dumb shit. Forget getting kicked off the kendo team—You realize you could be expelled for dueling? And you keep doing it! You fucking idiot! Do you know how many pictures and videos I have of that?

You break rules all the time and expect never to get caught, not even because daddy is the dean, but because you actually think you’re that much better than everyone.

While you’re off getting wasted, and falling for cheap lines like ‘I bet you work out’ and ‘I love that drama. The twist with the princess and the accountant? Never saw it coming!’ I’ve been working my ass off, not only making money, but also keeping my head above water. Maybe I have done something which you could get me for legally, but you’ll never have proof.

I didn’t outsmart you, hun, I just waited for you to fuck yourself and filmed it.

From: TKuno

To: Nabiki Tendo

I know you must be enjoying cackling maniacally at me like a b-villain, but may I ask you one question?

From Nabiki Tendo

To TKuno

Yes, I do hate you, and I have always hated you, and that reveal that the princess was banging the accountant was tired as fuck. You know who should diddle the numbers guy? The courtesan. Not only did they have chemistry, but they could have had an actual relationship, based on being greedy and underhanded in their various professions.

From TKuno

To Nabiki Tendo

1. You missed the point, as expected, you heartless wench. Of course those two could have a sleazy relationship based on being sleazy. That’s what made hime and the accountant such a satisfying twist. Not only are they different, but they appreciate each other’s differences, so they make each other better while also having a good relationship based on the things they do have in common.

2. Why didn’t you just give my father the photos of me dueling?

From Nabiki Tendo

To TKuno

1. They had nothing in common. You’re blowing hot air out of your dirty shipper mouth.

2. I don’t answer to you.

Kodachi’s Journal

The flurry of leaves finishing falling

Freshmen frolicking

Among unwritten essays and cans of ersatz energy

Studying between practice

Practice between studying?

Sleeping between eating and rising.

Ranma

Respite

Ten fumbling minutes in a hall closet

In which I barely tasted you, my darling cream puff

But your mind was elsewhere

Fifty bucks to try and find your mother

Fifty dollars to your family

I gave it to you, of course.

I tried to explain

How I envied you

The toll to visit my own mother two gold coins

And my life

But now

Stretching on the balance beam

I wonder if your hands were not a touch grabby?

That is

Were you groping my ass

Or the outline of my wallet?

Ukyo’s phone———> Ryoga and Shampoo’s Phone

911 URGENT.

HELP.

OUR ROOM.

QUICK.

Ranma’s phone——>Nabiki’s phone

Got ur fifty.

My room.

ASAP.

Ranma’s Diary.

I can’t believe it.

Why did I never think I had a mother? I never even asked. There’s so much stuff where the mothers have that vague, ‘cancer-car-crash-itis’ that I guess they filled in the blanks for me.

That or I’m just stupid.

I can’t believe Nabiki is sitting at my desk, filing out a few forms that might get me to my mother. I can’t believe I have one. I can’t believe I’m doing this to myself. What if she—

I’m trying not to think past imagining getting the certificate in my mail box. Hopefully it comes before the break starts, but I don’t think waiting till January will kill me.

My stomach aches like it will, but I’ve survived worse.

Speaking of surviving, I can’t believe I had a conversation with Ukyo and didn’t die. I think I’ve even impressed myself with that trick.

I was jogging, because Nabiki told me she wouldn’t have time for me until after lunch, and if I worked up a sweat then I could take a shower, without feeling like I was doing it just to scrub Kodachi off of me. (I can’t believe I kissed a girl for fifty bucks).

I tripped over Ukyo’s bag. She was leaned up against a tree and I think maybe she had been crying? I mean, I think she was upset before she saw me, but whatever. She was pissed, rubbing her bag and snapping at me. I didn’t want to waste time getting into an argument with her—and how could I fit ANOTHER duel into my busy schedule?—so I said,

“Are you okay?”

She got this weird look on her face. Sad, and confused, and a little angry about being confused. “Like you care.”

“Of course I care. I mean, you’re crying in the woods in December. It’s worrying.”

“So? It’s not going to keep you up at night.”

I was trying really hard not to get pissed off, so I swear when I said, “Don’t tell me what I think. Yell at me, call me names, kick my face in, but don’t try to talk for me,” it wasn’t an invitation.

“Your silence speaks volumes, Ranma.”

“Wait, is this about breaking up with you?” I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that, but at the same time, I can’t believe she’s still so burned up over it.

“No, it’s because you didn’t go to prom with me, and because we aren’t going to buy our first legal drinks together, and because you never gave a shit about my feelings then, so I don’t get why you’re pretending to now.”

Fuck it, I’m a fighter. She was looking for a fight.

“I didn’t care about your feelings? I broke up with to save those fucking things! I didn’t want you to be hurt, so I told you the truth and that I still loved you, but I had to do this.

You’re the one who wouldn’t talk to me. You’re the one who MAILED my stuff to me. We saw each other every day, but you couldn’t even drive to my house and ding-dong-ditch me! You never asked if I was okay, you never took my calls, I tried to protect you from this huge, stupid thing in my life and you made it all about you!”

Ukyo threw her bag aside so hard it cracked against a tree and all her shit spilled out, but she was too busy getting up in my face and screaming at me to care. “You’re the one who decided that if your father wants you to MARRY someone you’re going to do it! You’re the one who didn’t fight for me! You’re the one who thought if you told me why you were breaking up with me somehow that would mean we weren’t broken up!”

I shoved her back. “It’s not like you fought for me either!”

Ukyo slammed her hands into my chest and sent me to the ground. “What would I have done?! Challenged your father to a fight? Called child protective services? For fuck’s sake, Ranma, we were children!”

I haven’t cried since…When Ukyo knocked me down something about the way I fell, the way I hit the ground, the way the dirt smelled and my teeth clacked together, it reminded me of falling down as a kid. I’ve been trained to fall down so it doesn’t hurt. To roll or bend to minimize the blow. You know how my father taught me that? By pushing me down.

I started crying. So loud and hard I couldn’t breathe. I haven’t cried like that since I was a kid. An even littler kid. ‘Cause Ukyo was right. We were kids. And maybe we still are. Maybe we’ll always be unfinished and confused, and we’ll try our best but our best will always be half of what we need to get by.

“I-I-I wanted you to move on!” I hiccuped. “I wanted you to know it wasn’t you!”

Ukyo kneeled next to me and hovered for a moment before picking up my hands and holding them in hers. She was crying too. “If you loved me so much how could you ditch me like that?”

“I c-called you, and I tried to talk to you. I didn’t want to ruin our relationship by being engaged.”

“Well, it’s fucking ruined!” and then we both laughed. Painful, hiccupy laughs, interrupted by snorting back all the snot from crying and being outside when it was that cold.

I can’t believe Ukyo and I screwed each other like that. Shut down and tried to pretend we didn’t care and basically gave each other a knife to the heart.

We managed to calm down and Ukyo let go of my hands.

“So there isn’t something about me that makes people want to dump me? Something that scares people away?”

I shook my head. “Hell, you should have been trying to get away from me.”

Ukyo smiled a little and said, “It’s nice having a guy willing to fight anything that moves on your side. And I really loved you.”

Past tense.

“I loved you too.” But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck that it’s over. It doesn’t make it okay, but I guess it makes it right.

Ukyo stood up and helped me up. I didn’t need help, but it felt nice for some reason. Like when my dad would pour me juice even though I could have done it myself. It tasted a little better.

“I think there’s something I have to do.” Ukyo said. Something in her voice told me it had nothing to do with me.

“Is your number still the same?” I asked anyway.

Ukyo looked sort of surprised, but she said yes.

“Can I call you? If something happens, or maybe just to talk?”

“Yeah. And I’ll even pick up.”

Then Ukyo went off to do her mysterious thing, and I went back to my room, glad to still be alive.

Okay, Nabiki said it’ll be here in a couple of weeks. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

From TKuno

To Ghostsungki

Just writing to say you should re-think your major. Your profile was wrong. There is something Nabiki Tendo values more than herself.

Not Anal

I found Ryoga leaving the library (He’d been in the part where you’re allowed to talk. Says silence freaks him out) and he was all freaked out, asking me if I knew why Ukyo would send an emergency text. I had been trying not to get too worked up, but with Royga already panicking I gave in, and we ran over to my dorm.

We burst into my room, expecting a pool of blood or a shattered laptop or something.

Ukyo was sitting on our beds, which she had pushed together and piled with all our blankets and pillows on so you couldn’t feel the gap where the frames touch but the matresses don’t. She was wearing a flannel shirt and sweatpants, and when she stood up you could see that she had only buttoned two buttons on her shirt. I won’t tell you which buttons, but just imagine it being incredibly hot.

Ukyo opened her closet door and said, “Okay, put your bags in there.”

Royga and I stared at her.

“I thought there was an emergency.” Ryoga said.

“Where did I say that?” Ukyo pulled her phone out of her pocket and read over it. “Nope. No emergency. No problem. I just told you to come quick.”

“So what’s going on?” I asked.

“I am going to set an alarm, and for the next two hours the three of us aren’t going to do anything school related. We’re just going to relax and do whatever we want.” For the first time she looked a little nervous. “You two have been so stressed since thanksgiving. I figured it was because you didn’t do any work over the break and you’re swamped now, but I’m calling a time out so you two can get some self care done.”

“I kissed Ryoga.” I said. I let my backpack fall off my shoulder and kicked it into the closet.

“It was stupid.” Ryoga said, tossing his bag into the closet and closing it. “I mean, it didn’t mean anything. I mean-“ I touched his shoulder and he stopped.

“It doesn’t matter.” I said to Ukyo, “Because now I’m going to kiss you to make it even.”

I am a woman of my word. I knew I was going to do it, but I was kind of surprised that Ukyo let me. I thought I would just say it and that would be peace offering enough, but she didn’t stop me when I put my arms around her neck, so I got on my tip-toes and my brain went ‘fuck it’ and I laid one on her. I think her knees gave out a little. Someone’s did.

Ryoga popping open a bag of chips startled us, but it didn’t ruin the mood. The mood wasn’t ‘having sex with your roommate’ it was stretching out on a bed and taking a deep breath while Ukyo made fun of Ryoga for liking cozy mysteries. Cozy mystery—maybe that was the feeling. Warm and safe and somewhat luxurious lying on a bed made plush with three extra blankets. Comfortable, even with bare branches tapping at the window and finals looming in the back of our minds.

This is probably a bad idea. Someone already trying to be in two relationships at once, and someone who doesn’t believe in love—I couldn’t have chosen worse people to fall for.

But as I sit here typing this, waiting to get tired enough to go to sleep with Ukyo and Ryoga-the two hour plan got kicked in favor of naps-I feel the best I’ve felt in weeks. Bone deep calm, radiating outward so all that other bullshit can’t touch me.

Akari’s phone———->Ryoga’s phone

Hun, what time do

you get in at

heathrow?

8pm

When do you get

on the plane?

The first one? Around noon.

Akari, I know you won’t be at

the airport, but I want to see

you as soon as possible.

I know. I want to

see you even

sooner. <3

From TKuno

To: Nabiki Tendo

Dear Nabiki Tendo,

If you show those photos to anyone, please consider that the very next day three different people will be sitting in my fathers office to attest that Ranma Saotome has been involved in several duels. His expulsion will be quick and clean.

Your Loyal Sparring Partner,

Tatewaki Kuno

The Tendo House

Latest Video: Personal Blog—Channel Direction

The video opens in Kasumi’s bedroom. She is sitting on her bed, hands restlessly picking over the ruffle on a throw pillow. Her color is high, her eyes bright like she might have a fever. Her voice shakes somewhere between crying and cackling.

Kasumi: Ah…I’ve tired to open this video so many times. I even considered shooting one in advance and just uploading that whenever I—But I realized that was just wishful thinking and wouldn’t actually be helpful when the time came.

Now I’ve been holding back on recording this. I wanted to be…sure.

(Kasumi takes a deep breath. Her expression becomes a touch more serious. She has been planning for this moment for a long time, though she is not sure if she will ever tell how much)

I’m three months pregnant.

[Akane, Nabiki, and Soun Tendo never saw the rest of this video.]

From: Nabiki Tendo

To: TKuno

Sorry, Kuno-babe, I don’t think we’ll be ‘sparring’ for a while.

I have pregnant fish to fry.

Consider yourself dangling, but still hooked.

The Stunning,

Nabiki Tendo.

Akane’s Diary:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SHE DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME.

I’m not even mad exactly??? It’s that feeling when you watch a video and someone does something so awful, but it’s so unexpected and so not your problem that your mouth hangs open in horror, but you choke and laugh at the same time.

Maybe if I write this down my chest will stop shaking.

I went to Ryoga’s after my calc final to see if that girl in the library had been telling the truth about Ryoga having a girlfriend and/or liking me. I knew Ranma would be tied up at our calc final for another hour. (Ranma is one of those freaks who takes the entire time given, even though getting to leave as soon as you’re done is THE perk of college).

I watched Ryoga pack for a while. We chatted, but it was mostly me asking him questions so he would talk and I could just sit there and think.

He’s not bad looking, Ryoga. His hair is always messed up, but not always in a rakish british pop star kind of way. Still, he’s got nice eyes, and broad shoulders, and, you know, two arms and two legs and a head.

That’s how I feel about him, I guess. He’s a guy, and he’s good looking, and even if he’s thinking about cheating on his girlfriend I’m pretty sure he hasn’t, so I wouldn’t say he’s a bad guy.

But there I was, watching him, thinking: ‘If that girl was right, I could get up, and sit on the edge of his bed and kiss him’. That’s what I was picturing. A good girlfriend move, perching on his bed, and wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

Imagining it filled me with an overwhelming sensation of…meh.

Ryoga’s a good guy, but there’s nothing about him that sets him apart. Nothing that made me want to do that cute little girlfriend thing for him, or push him down and do things that would make his cheap-ass mattress beg for mercy.

I went to his room thinking I would confront him, but for what? Thought crimes? Even if he has a girlfriend and he cheats on her, it sure won’t be with me.

That was when Ranma burst into the room. He threw his backpack onto his bed and spun around to leave, but froze when he saw me.

“Akane, have you seen the latest video on Kasumi’s blog?”

I stared at him. His expression was very strange. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to console or congratulate me.

“I saw the one she posted in November…” I said, sure he was talking about something else.

Ranma hopped up to sit on Ryoga’s desk and put his phone on his knee, which was eye level for me. He hit play.

Ranma knew my sister was pregnant before me.

I was sitting in his room thinking about how much I don’t care if some guy has a crush on me, and Ranma is getting a youtube notification telling him that my sister is pregnant. I’m not mad about that it, it just feels wrong somehow.

I immediately tried to call Kasumi, and when she didn’t pick up I redialed twice. I sent her four texts, then one to Nabiki.

My finger hovered over dad’s number.

“So you didn’t know about this?” Ranma asked.

I realized I had a thousand yard stare and tried to focus on Ranma’s face “No. I had no idea.”

Ranma nodded. “I figured. You or Nabiki would have told me if you did. The three of you are always so…proud of each other.”

I have no idea what that meant. Ranma looked melancholy. Or maybe just maudlin. That’s a good word to have around, maudlin. Then he smiled at me and I lost my train of thought.

It’s not the time to think about it, but that’s not a good sign is it? Watching Ryoga in a tight t-shirt, bending and stretching and shoving while he packs, but when Ranma, hair unbrushed, a gi shirt hanging off of him like a jacket, smiles at me my brain goes on the fritz?

Nabiki still has cramming to do, and there isn’t much to talk about since Kasumi hasn’t spoken to either of us. We’ve tried to contact her every way short of smoke signals (and don’t think Nabiki wouldn’t get on the roof and light something on fire if she thought it would get a reaction) but it seems like we won’t be getting any answers until we get home on thursday.

Ranma came back to my room with me to ‘help me study’ but we don’t have any exams tomorrow, and thank god, since I can’t concentrate to save my life. Ranma is lying on my bed eating my secret stash of chips and leafing through my even secreter stash of cosmos, while I try to get all my questions in order.

Why? Who’s the father? Can we actually afford a baby? Why aren’t you talking to us? Have you told dad? When are you going to tell dad? Where is it going to sleep? Do I still have to marry Ranma? Oh, god, don’t make me marry Ranma, I think I might be starting to LIKE him. Especially when he laughs, nearly chokes on my chips, and then reads whatever weird fragment he found funny out loud. Kasumi, don’t do this to me.

Last five posts from okinomiyakimeansiloveyou.tumblr.com

5. A Youtube video about making really cute gift baskets with homemade sweets.

4. Lingerie sets. Not just bras and panties (and teddies and stockings and…) but some very neat looking briefs made from high end material.

3. Tasteful, but still extremely erotic nude drawings (especially if you are of the Georgia O’Keefe persuasion).

2. A picture of Ryoga and Shampoo speaking in the vestibule of the girl’s dorm, the world starkly white and black through the huge glass doors. They don’t look like they know their picture is being taken. Ryoga has a duffel bag over his shoulder and Shampoo is hefting it’s weight in her hand. She’s about the drop it back onto his shoulder and watch him stagger, but you can’t tell in the photo. One of Ryoga’s hands rests on the handle of her tiny, shiny, purple suitcase. They look good together, and the lighting is nice, somehow, between the fluorescents and the glaring winter sun, and, and it’s a good photo, and Ukyo posts it to prove that she knows that, and that she doesn’t care about the twinges in her chest when she looks at it.

1. That feel when you think you’re heartsick or something, but you just need a tums. #personal #everything’s even #they’re not going to do anything #nothing ever changes over winter break anyway

#ranma 1/2 #rankane #ranma saotome #fanfiction #college au #akane tendo #shampoo #nabiki tendo #kasumi tendo #pregnancy ment

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