#i still have my exchange fics to write and one is technically due tomorrow but its still missing sm
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My to do (one day i swear) fics masterlist (forgive the messy summaries and useless commentary i literally made this two weeks after seeing the movie and didnt touch it until today lol )
1 Titanic AU for this one im still thinking abt the general plot (edit 28/01: i have the plot but i have to write it lol)
2 Coryo has his grandma and cousin 'captured', it has some consequences on his psyche and thoughts... ( he believes them dead--> during the scene after the games with Highbottom implies they might be dead the little shit) and is directly (like literally forced, hes not allowed to see his family) sent in District 12....
3 (in this one they're technically older than in canon), before the war they meet many times (from 10 to 15/16y), then the war happens: they meet again during these events, (the Covey didnt partake in the war in the novel, but im still deciding though if Lucy Gray'll choose a 'side' to help or not...edit 28/01: she will pick a side hehe and not its Coryo's) ...(...maybe , after, the angst during the war, then the 13 win and they meet at opposite side of the line...and then forced to be together due to the new 'Games'.?????..bruh i have so many tropes and AU mixed in this one)
4 okay, so this is a Star Wars AU...(not Anidala i swear...they just...dont fit them i think) so idk if you watched Rogue One, but it'll be loosely inspired by this movie...
5 College/University AU, where Coryo is forced (literally, he is blackmailed by professor Highbottom) to tutor Lucy Gray otherwise he (C. Highbottom) wont valid his stage/work (or smt like that idk precisely yet since i dont know a damn thing abt American or British university ) - and he choose Lucy Gray especially for him bc he knows Coryo'll be pissed abt it and wont succed (well, he thinks he knows Coryo wont succeed, but little did he know...) so Coryo not exactly happy abt having to tutor this...girl. (pretty snobby abt it too)...their start is very...rocky...(i have written their meeting scene (well, the official meeting) already )
6 (edit 28/01: this one is very shitty i hesitated to let it on this post but here take what my snowbaird brainrot managed to imagine lol) ...due to the fragile 'peace' between districts and Capitol after the war, the new government decided to send children/teens/adult to differents district or Capitol (a sort of 'exchange'.... well and also 'you start doing suspicious things, we have your people in 'hostage' kind of thing) and for them to live in it (for a limited amount of time), and if they succeed without raising any problems, they can come back 'home' (little did kid Coryo know he will end up loving district 12....not right away of course, right now hes rather angry, disgusted by 12 and a condescending little shit... )
7 (edit 28/01: i wrote a more insightful plot for this, i'll add it tomorrow) Lucy Gray, killed in the forest wake up to the day of her reaping.
8 another modern AU (sorry if u dont like that) inspired by Mamma mia (i fully blame the whole movie album) with, of course some twist and changes...(edit 28/01: it can works my brain said so to me)
9 WHELP. ANOTHER MODERN AU. so. i wont detail everything here (its the first fic idea i had and i did work a little more on it ) but, Coryo after 3/4 years in the military (forced by his mom but theres more to it of course also,/ not thinking abt real military accuracy now) come back to see his friend Sejanus - yeah, he really is friend (reluctant) Sejanus in this,(Sejanus, who due to some events- his father death???- created with his mom a scholarship for students who live in less priviligied areas of the town/or country??? still thinking abt it ) . So. Coryo come back just to see his only (with Clementia of course) friend doing buddy buddy with Lucy Gray. Lets say hes not happy....
10 Im sure others already thought of this one, but if Highbottom was more of a close 'mentor/fatherly' figure to him after the war??? ( not only, but also manipulating Coryo to his own ends)
12 And Actors AU because well, they're both performers in their own right and Actor/actress + (fake dating maybe??) + a past still haunting them + lowkey despise you = perfect angst.
#snowbaird#Take all my plotbunny i managed to make during my first Snowbaird brainrot after the movie#sorry its shitty but hey at least i tried...happy to share it with y'all once and for all though#lucy gray#lucy gray baird#coriolanus snow#coryo x lucy gray#coryolucy#my post#fanfic ideas#DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY#REALLY I HAVE TO RE-WORK ON EVERYTHING/PLOT/SETTING ETC SO I REPEAT DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY
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AND (idk if there's an ask limit BUT OH WELL) could i get felix with together, joy and present? thank you sm!!
youre most welcome!! ♥
J: JOY what is the happiest memory they connect to christmas season?
while they would spend christmas itself with their respective families, christmas season was often spent with dimitri, ingrid, sylvain and glenn if he had time. their awe when exploring the festively decorated town, the wonderful smells and tastes, playing in the snow (sometimes getting in trouble)… even if he denies it, those times are very precious to him and especially during christmas season he sometimes finds himself wondering why things had to turn out the way they did
P: PRESENT do they give hand-made presents or do they prefer to buy them? how long do they take to select them and how good are they at choosing ones people will like?
definitely bought. he says he just can’t be bothered but in truth he just doesn’t have a hand for making things himself. even if he acts like he doesn’t care, he actually pays a lot of attention to others so he would be quite good at choosing ones they would enjoy (even if usually in the sense of them being useful). since he will be familiar with their wants and needs, he just goes straight to whichever shop he can get their gift from without dawdling or second-guessing.
T: TOGETHER who do they celebrate their christmas with? friends, family, their s/o? or do they prefer to be spend it alone?
he always spent it with his family as a child, but after glenn died it just became… tense and he now tries to avoid it altogether if possible. still, it’s not impossible to get him to celebrate christmas, but it’d need someone he cares about who’s willing to do some… persuasion. nevertheless, he probably wouldn’t spend christmas with someone else’s family unless they were his s/o (and even then they’d really need to convince him) because he knows how christmas can be and he’s not exactly looking to be caught up in someone else’s family drama.
#lads can you tell what my feelings about christmas are yet-#also after going home i finally feel the christmas spirit a little but.... hahhh#i still have my exchange fics to write and one is technically due tomorrow but its still missing sm#someone free me from my misery-#Anonymous#fodlan#felix hugo fraldarius#writing#christmas alphabet#hc meme
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it’s you and me, there’s nothing like this
hey @cheddar-the-dog!!! i am your writer for the b99 2019 fall fic exchange! i apologise for waiting until the last minute to write this, eheh, but it's here now! i chose your prompt "the season of spooky stuff and one of them hating everything horror related and one being the protector" and took the freedom of incorporating it into this little thing. hope you enjoy! ❤︎
thank you to @b99fandomevents for organizing this :)
happy halloween to you all! i do not and have never really celebrated it, but last year i did go to a halloween theme park and it was AWESOME, and i definitely thought it'd be the kind of thing jake and amy would do together.
read on ao3
2015
The first time Jake had tried to bring Amy to the Halloween theme park, she had started out skeptical about the idea.
“Just because we’re dating now doesn’t mean I like Halloween,” she remarked over breakfast as he suggested his plan for their shared Saturday off. “I still think it's a ridiculous holiday.”
“So… the best kind of holiday.”
She rolled her eyes over the edge of the coffee cup. “Can't you go to this park with Charles?”
“I don’t want to go with Charles! I want to go with my adorable girlfriend, who, by the way, is looking stunning in that outfit.” He pointed to what was definitely his flannel currently being donned by Amy, who had paired it with pajama pants and a fuzzy blanket from his couch wrapped around her shoulders. “Also, does this mean you’re stealing my clothes now?”
“It means your apartment is cold all the time,” she said, but her smirk made him suspect he wasn’t totally wrong, either. “Why is this so important to you, anyway?”
“You’re going to think I’m ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
“Fine,” he hummed, rubbing the nape on his neck and looking down at the table to avoid eye contact. “Because it’s technically a holiday tradition that doesn’t bring up shitty memories, and I don’t have a ton of those. I was thinking it’d be kind of nice to share one with you?” He could feel his cheeks heating as he admitted the truth. In their five months of dating, he’d already had to face more emotional vulnerability than ever before in his life, but it had yet to get easier. “Sorry. It’s, uh, stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking it until he looked up at her, finding her watching him with a tenderhearted gaze that was still new to him, but never failed to make him feel safe with every fiber of his being. “It’s sweet. And okay. I’ll go with you.”
If he’d been a little bit braver, he could have told her he loved her at this moment, and thinking back at it months later, he would regret that he didn’t.
Instead, he’d simply returned her smile. “Noice. Smort.”
She rolled her eyes at him another time. He sort of found it absolutely endearing.
2019
This year, he’s not even the one to suggest their yearly visit. Amy brings it up all on her own as they’re going to bed on a Friday evening, her yawning wide before scooting closer to him, intertwining their legs and pressing kisses to the back of his neck to gain his attention.
“Do we have any plans for tomorrow, babe?”
“I don’t think so,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and just enjoying the way her lips feel against his neck, the way her hands gently rub patterns on his shoulder blades. “Anything you’re thinking about?”
“I was thinking maybe we should go to that Halloween park,” she says, and it warms his heart to hear her sounding genuinely excited at the thought. “If you want to.”
“Well, I could never say no to the Halloween park.”
“Or to me, I hope, since it’s our yearly tradition.”
“Nah, it’s harder to say no to the park,” he teases her, and she punches him hard in the elbow. “Ow! I was kidding!”
“Don’t you dare,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to the same spot. “It’s a date, then. And my goal for this year is to not get terrified by the haunted houses.”
2016
Jake had missed many things while in witness protection in Florida. His girlfriend first and foremost, but also the Nine-Nine, New York pizza, weather that wasn’t either scorching sun or heavy storms, and the Halloween park. It had been one of the dreams he’d thought about during his worst evenings of homesickness; he and Amy, walking around the overly decorated area while holding hands and looking at all the kids and adults in costumes, pointing out ones they recognized.
(“Look, Jake, that’s a tiny Harry Potter!)
(“Ames! That woman’s dressed like Holly Gennaro from Die Hard!”)
It felt like a dream to actually be back, walking hand in hand much like he’d pictured and standing in line to one of the haunted houses. It felt like home.
“I still don’t get the point of why you would pay someone to scare you,” Amy mutters, rubbing her arms and jumping up and down on the place to keep herself warm. “The real-life world is plenty terrifying. Climate change. Racism. US Politics. I could go on and on.”
“Because it’s fun, and while the things you mentioned are hella scary, they make for awful costumes,” Jake pointed out, already shrugging off his leather jacket to drape it across her shoulders. “I mean, how would you even dress up as climate change?”
“Don’t show up to the party and claim you’re dressed as the extinction of humans due to our planet becoming inhabitable.”
“Oooh, that’s actually pretty genius.”
“I know,” she winked. “Let’s go in and pretend to get scared by stuff that isn’t really scary, shall we?”
She’d taken back what she’d said about one minute in. The makeup and costumes of the actors were far more convincing than even Jake had expected, way better than it had been last year, and he hadn’t been able to blame Amy for the way she clutched herself to his arm as they made their way through the building. Her nails had pressed so hard through his shirt they’d almost made marks, but he hadn’t minded it. Getting to be her protector, even if only for a seven-minute walk through an amusement park’s over-budgeted version of a haunted house, felt like a privilege.
2019
She promises him at least another five times before they even get in line that this is the year she won’t get scared. She’s so confident, staring him down every time she repeats it, that eventually, he tells her he believes her. His gut feeling says otherwise, but the smug grin on his wife’s face as he tells her the white lie is cute enough to make the dishonesty worth it.
“Climate change is scarier than ever,” she declares as they step foot into the house, and he chuckles at her. “This has got nothing on it.”
She ends up taking back her self-assured statement a few minutes in for the fifth year in a row. Jake is getting truly curious about what kind of budget the park’s makeup department is working with, and he has to admit there are a few things executed well enough to make him jump. Amy squeezes his arm tightly, letting him lead their way through, and he basks in the glorious sensation of feeling like there are times when he can be her protector, too - god knows she’s good at being his when he needs it. She’s squeezing a little hard, and her nails feel a little sharper than usual, but it’s fine.
It’s dark inside the building, but he feels her warm breath near his neck and turns around to see what she’s doing only to find someone other than Amy there; an actor with a black, hairy mask over their face that seems to have no concept of personal space whatsoever. Even though it’s what he tends to keep teasing his wife for, he yelps and bolts for the emergency exit, almost tackling a stranger on the way out.
He’s still breathing hard when Amy comes out too, laughing as she throws her arms around him.
“That was awful,” he mumbles as she tries to calm down from the giggling fit. “That was so scary. Where the hell did you go?”
“Where the hell did you go?”
“I thought I was right there with you!”
“I thought I was right there with you!”
“Let’s maybe not go back in there,” he suggests, and she shakes her head.
“Let’s maybe not.”
2017
The year they got engaged, he learned another fact about Amy Santiago - while she may have hated the haunted houses, she was a major fan of the rides. Unfortunately, this included the rides even Jake was hesitant to go on, like the attractions that went way too high up in the air and dropped way too low, way too fast.
“Come on,” she had encouraged him, shooting him that smile that never failed to make his knees weak and pulling his arm towards the line. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ll let you hold my hand.”
“I can hold your hand on the ground,” he pouted. “I much prefer that option.”
“Come on, babe! Just one time!”
“I hate you,” he’d told her as they stood in line, repeating it as they were being strapped to their seats, making her roll her eyes both times. “I love you, but right now, I hate you.”
He’d been able to see more of Coney Island from the top of the ride than he’d ever wanted to see in his life, and then, just as he was about to freak out about the height, the ride dropped.
The scream that ripped from his throat shocked even himself, because it was a sound of pure and utter panic, but amid that panic, he’d found beauty.
He was alive. He was a free man. He could be outside to do these kinds of things with his soon-to-be fiancée, instead of being locked in for fifteen years arrested for a bank robbery he didn’t commit, and it felt beautiful.
“Did you enjoy it?” Amy asked as they walked away from the attraction, his legs a lot shakier than her, but her hair looking way crazier than his did.
He’d grinned before cupping her face, bringing their lips together. “Weirdly, I kind of did.”
2019
Every year, he hopes she won't insist on going on the rides, that she's changed her mind just this time. Every year, he's dead wrong as she takes his hand to steer him decisively toward the ride he's learned to detest with his entire being.
“You don't think I could skip it for just one year?” He asks, gulping as he looks up at the massive construction, but Amy shakes her head.
“Tradition is tradition, babe. We’re doing this.”
“Do you have to get revenge on me every damn year just because I drag you through the haunted house?”
“You got it.”
“You are a terrible person,” he sighs, but it's impossible to keep his tone serious.
She kisses his cheek. “All is fair in Halloween theme parks, love, and war.”
“Is that the saying, really?”
Every year, he thinks he's gotten used to the horrifying attraction. Every year, he finds out he's wrong. There's no getting used to the relentless shakiness as they're taken closer and closer to the top, the tension when they are there knowing they're about to fall any second, the spine-chilling drop in his stomach when they fall.
He survives it, and he supposes every experience helps him understand why this is something people like his wife will do for fun. He feels alive, almost frightfully so, his heart pounding and breath shaking but his instincts so on edge. He feels real, and although it's hard to stand on his legs when the ride finally finishes, it's worth it when he gets to turn to Amy and find her looking genuinely impressed by him. She looks a little pale after this year’s ride, asking him if they can sit down for a few minutes afterward, but when he asks if she enjoyed it, there's no hiding her beaming grin.
2018
The year they had gotten married, they'd competed in the pentathlon games. They’d tried a few of them before, but this was the year they dialed their competitiveness up to the max, offering each other no leniency as they ran between the different game stations. Rifle shooting had been the most even, electronic darts the least - Amy claimed he’d tried to sabotage her by tickling her shortly before, making it difficult to keep her arm still - and their opinions on whether or not Jake’s moving basketball net was rigged to his disadvantage differed drastically, but through it all, they’d been enjoying themselves. It might not have seen that way to everyone else judged from their bickering and borderline unserious threats, but to Jake and Amy, this was love.
This was going back to their old rival days for a short while, to the memories of constantly trying to beat and outdo one another, before returning to reality and realizing they’d already won the greatest prize of all; each other.
(The giant stuffed frog that Jake had won at one of the stations, handed to him by a mysteriously silent employee with the name tag ‘Craig’, was a close second. It croaked if you pressed a button.)
Counting all the results together, the final conclusion was that Amy had won, and Jake laughed heartily at her as she did as expressive of a dork dance as he’d ever seen her do in public. After all, it was hard for him to feel much like a loser in anything as long as she was around.
“Loser buys hot cider and cinnamon donuts?” She’d suggested with a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“We share bank accounts, babe.”
“It’s the gesture that counts,” she’d insisted then, and there’d been no way for him to decline.
2019
His wife is unstoppable this year as well. Jake ends up doing far worse in several stations than he knows he’s capable of, the competitiveness dialing down as he realizes there’s no way for him to win now. Instead, Jake simply watches Amy in her element.
She’s so focused, so precise, so thought-through when she’s confident in her abilities. She’ll tuck her hair behind her ears like even a single strand could be the thing to sabotage her chances, bite her lip, stare down the task or target and tackle it right on, instinctive and calculated at the same time.
It is moments like these when he struggles to believe there was ever a time when he wasn’t with her, a time when he wasn’t blessed with the opportunity to get to watch her like this, without any sense of guilt or inadequacy.
She’s stellar, a piece of art much like the paintings she studied for several years at university, and he gets to live his life with her.
He gets to go to Halloween theme parks year after year with her as company. He gets to have her clutching on tight to his arm through haunted houses. He gets to sit next to her as they go on rides he thinks no sane human should be willingly exposing themselves to. He gets to be with her and hers all at once, and every year, every month, and every day, it keeps getting better.
“Did you even try to win this year?” She asks, curiously, as they’re walking towards the donut stand.
“Nah,” he shrugs. “I already won.”
“... Wow. Marriage really did a number on you when it comes to cheesiness, huh?” Her voice is teasing, but the little laugh, the tenderness in her eyes, is not.
“I have my days,” he says, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Winner buys the donuts this year?”
“A for effort, but they’re still on you.”
“Two hot ciders, two cinnamon donuts, and one box of donut holes, please.”
“Actually,” Amy pipes up as the teenaged cashier punches in their order. “I think I’ll have a hot chocolate instead.”
“Changing a winning concept,” Jake comments. “That’s bold of you.”
“Creating a new one,” she corrects him. “Gotta keep it interesting.”
~
As much as he loves all the crazy things they get up to on their visits, laughing their way through the day, Jake has to admit he loves the final part most. They’re sitting close together on a bench overlooking the water, drinking their cider and hot chocolate and enjoying the sugary baked goods while they chat about the day. It’s stress-free and allover wonderful, and it’s hard, if not unfeasible, to picture how anything could ever be better than this.
“This is the best tradition,” Amy says, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch parents chase their toddlers along the water’s edge, couples walking together and friend groups trying to take pictures in the half-darkness. “I hope we keep this up.”
“We’re definitely keeping it up,” he assures her. “This year was amazing. I already can’t wait for next time.”
She smiles, stroking his hair before beginning to ruffle through her right pocket for something. “Actually, next time might be a bit different.”
“What do you mean? We’re not changing this tradition, are we?”
“No,” she laughs. “We’re not. We’re just… renewing it to keep it interesting. Close your eyes.”
He does, and she instructs him to hold out his hand, so he does that, too.
She places a thin, maybe fifteen or so centimeters long, little plastic stick in his outstretched hand, and his fingers wrap around it.
“Okay, you can open them now.”
“What’s this?”
“You might wanna read the display,” she tells him, and he unfurls his fingers to reveal a digital square and a single, life-changing word.
It takes a moment to sink in.
“No way,” he says when he can tear his eyes away from it, looking up at his wife to find her with what he hopes are happy tears in her eyes. “Are you - is this real, Ames?”
“I have like seven more of them at home,” she blushes. “So yeah, I think so.”
“Oh my god.”
“I know.”
“How long have you kept this a secret?”
“I took the first one three days ago,” she admits. “I wanted to tell you the second I found out, but then I remembered this, and I thought… maybe it could be another nice memory for the tradition.”
“It is.” He wraps her in a tight hug, pressing soft kisses to every inch of her face he can reach. “This is… wow. Just, wow.”
“That’s a pretty good summary of it.”
“This is the best visit so far,” he whispers in her ear as she takes the positive pregnancy test from him to put back. “This is the best visit ever.”
Life with Amy, and their yearly visits to the Halloween theme park, truly did have one thing in common; they both just kept getting better.
#my writing#b99#brooklyn 99#brooklyn nine-nine#peraltiago#jake x amy#b99 fic#brooklyn 99 fic#brooklyn nine-nine fic#b99 fanfiction#brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction#jake x amy fic#jake x amy fanfiction#peraltiago fic#peraltiago fanfiction
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Record Store Romance (gift fic)
A gift fic for @wordshakerofgallifrey (for @elozable‘s fic exchange)!
Sarah works at Larkin’s Records-New and Used. Katherine’s a reporter for her school’s newspaper. Their first not-date doesn’t go exactly as planned.
It took her a moment to realize the girl had come back.
Sarah caught a glimpse of her between reshelving the New Age Jazz section and answering a call about donations (no, you couldn’t send in your Anderson Sisters collection if your cat peed on it). She looked about the same as she had two days ago, perky and upbeat with a high notched ponytail and a smile that could knock you dead on the spot. She wore the uniform Sarah had seen all the prep school kids wear; a white button down blouse with a maroon sweater and matching tartan skirt. It didn’t exactly gel well with Sarah’s own personal style, but it did give her a very good view of the girl’s smooth toned calves. She had admired them from a safe distance the first time the girl had come in the shop two days earlier. Sarah had been stuck on register duty, but that hadn’t stopped her from sneaking covert looks every once in a while as the girl browsed everything from the latest Sufjan Stevens vinyl to a Conway Twitty compilation album. The girl had eclectic taste, she’d give her that. But she had left without buying anything, which meant that all the clever lines Sarah had been rehearsing to say had gone to waste. Maybe that was for the best, she had told herself afterwards. Talking to pretty girls always got her tongue tied, and she carried that burden along with the added pressure of being one of the few out lesbians in her po-dunk town. Even coming off as slightly too friendly could be read as predatory by the wrong person, so she was constantly adjusting and re-adjusting her behavior to ensure no one felt uncomfortable around her. But how could she ever learn to flirt properly if she was never given the opportunity to practice?
Sarah honestly couldn’t even explain her attraction to this girl. She had always been a bit of a reverse snob, something she had inherited from her proud socialist of a father. On any other day she wouldn’t give a Pulitzer Academy kid a second thought, no matter how good they looked in plaid. That was mostly due to the school’s head of trustees, Joe Pulitzer, who had inherited the position from his father ten years earlier. The academy always stood in contrast to the small town it was situated in, always buying up new properties and finagling new ways to avoid paying taxes while covertly ignoring the fact the locals were growing more and more frustrated with them by the day. Its students hardly left its giant, gated building. Maybe that was why Sarah was so enticed with the girl. It was rare to see any Pulitzer student out in the wild, much less a pretty one. She mulled the thought over as she bent over a new crate of donations, trying to sort them alphabetically when she heard a set of footsteps heading towards the checkout counter. She slowly got up, rubbing the residue dust on her jeans. “Hang on, I’ll be with you in just a sec-”
She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was standing by the register. Uniform girl turned around and gave her a shy grin. “Hi, I was wondering if we could talk for a bit.”
Sarah’s knees turned to putty and she could feel an odd heating sensation rise in her chest. She nodded numbly and somehow managed to make her way across the room without collapsing into a heap on the floor. She was nearing the counter when she noticed the girl didn’t have any merchandise. Rather, she was clutching a small pad of paper with a ballpoint pen clipped to its side. Sarah cleared her throat a few times before she spoke. “So, uh, do you need help finding anything, or…”
“Oh! Uh, not exactly.” The girl clicked the top of the pen open and scribbled a few words down, her eyes looking intently down at the paper. “I was actually wondering if I could speak to the owner.”
“You mean Ms. Larkin? She’s away for the weekend, visiting her niece.” Sarah scrunched up her face slightly, trying not to look too disappointed. “I’ll be managing part time for the next two days.”
“That’s okay!” The girl blinked a few times, eyes still on the paper. “Would she be alright with you answering a few questions? About this place, I mean. It’s for my school paper, I'm doing an article about locally run businesses in the area.”
“Uh, sure. I should probably send her a text though, I don’t want to do anything behind her back.”
“Right, of course.” The girl nodded fervently. Sarah cast her a quick look as she took her cell from her back pocket and shot Medda a quick text. A pair of ellipses appeared on the screen, shortly followed by an affirmation from her boss. Sarah tried to cool her excitement as she put her phone away.
“She says it’s fine, just as long as you make us look good.”
“Perfect!” The girl paused, faltering slightly. “Do you think I could come by here tomorrow? I have a couple of other interviews lined up for this afternoon, I’m not sure if I can fit you in right now.”
“Oh, well, sure.” Sarah tried to hide her disappointment as best she could. “My shift starts tomorrow at three, could you stop by then?”
The girl shook her head. “No, I’m busy then too. Could we do earlier than that?”
Sarah paused for a moment. It was tempting to take a risk, but she was unsure if it was going to pay off the way she hoped it would. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I mean, technically I’ll be free before then, I just won’t be at work….” Her palms turned moist, and she could feel her temples pound against her skull. “My brother and his friend will be watching the store then. You don’t want to interview them, trust me, their taste in music sucks. Jack unironically listens to Korn.”
To her relief, the girl smiled. “So we’ll meet somewhere else. Would eleven be okay, I’m a bit of an early riser.”
Sarah exhaled and gave a shaky laugh. “Same here. Do you know where Jacoby’s is? It’s this cute Kosher bakery two blocks over, they have great lattes…”
“Oh, don’t worry, I know where it is.”
“You do?” Sarah had always assumed private school kids were from out of town. The girl gave one last nod before scratching a final note on her pad. “I grew up here. So, tomorrow at Jacoby’s? Eleven o’ clock?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, of course! I’ll see you then!” Sarah was breathless, hardly believing her good luck. The girl made a move to turn towards the door but stopped. She groaned and playfully smacked herself on the head.
“I am so sorry, where are my manners? I’m Katherine.” She held out her hand and Sarah tentatively shook it.
“Sarah.” Her mouth all of a sudden felt unnaturally dry. Katherine looked up and for the first time Sarah could see her face in full. “It’s really nice to meet you Sarah. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
It was only after Katherine had left the store did the pounding in Sarah’s ear start to subside. She has brown eyes, Sarah thought. She had never noticed that before.
______________________
The midday sun was streaming through the cafe’s windows as Sarah took small, nervous sips from her wide rimmed latte cup. She nearly jumped in her seat when she heard the small bell attached to Jacoby’s door ring, quietly proclaiming that Katherine had arrived. She was out of her school uniform, wearing a loose floral sundress beneath a baggy jean jacket. Casual, but definitely still high quality. Sarah self consciously pressed the soles of her second hand Doc Martens against the lower corner of the booth. Katherine flung her messenger bag into the padded seat first before squeezing herself in as well. She gave Sarah a winning smile as she took out her cell and pressed the recording app button.
“Thanks for waiting for me!” She positioned the speaker towards Sarah as she ducked back into her bag. “Hope you don’t mind, I have a couple questions prepared, but I’m hoping to do most of this on the fly. You know, keep it as natural as possible.”
Sarah nodded and took another sip from her mug. “Sure, yeah, no problem.”
“Awesome.” Katherine gave another bright grin as she pulled out a pink spiral notebook. She fished a pen out of her messy bun, and a few tendrils fell with it. Sarah tried not to notice what a lovely effect it had on her face.
“Alright, so- Larkin’s Records New and Used. How did that come to be? I feel like it’s always been part of the scenery, at least when I was growing up.”
“Well, after Medda, I mean Ms. Larkin stopped touring, she wanted to give back to her hometown. She grew up here, you know, just a few blocks down where the store is now, before Pulitzer Academy bought those apartment complexes. Oh, um, sorry…” Sarah didn’t want to come off as too strong. No matter how hard her feelings towards Pulitzer Academy were, she didn’t want Katherine to think any of that animosity was aimed at her. To her relief Katherine simply nodded and kept jotting down notes.
“It’s fine. I’m actually writing this article to convince my classmates to get out more. I feel like we’re completely separated from the rest of the town, it's ridiculous how closed off we are. And now there’s a new rumor going around that they’re thinking of expanding again, and I just thought…” Katherine trailed off and Sarah found herself uncomfortably looking down into her coffee. Katherine shook her head and brushed a few curls behind her ear before continuing. “I don’t know if this is gonna change people’s minds or not, but I don’t think it could hurt to try.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Sarah tried to sound as encouraging as possible. Katherine gave an appreciative smile and flipped to a new page in her notebook.
“So, uh, I know Ms. Larkin is mostly known for her R&B career back in the nineties, did the store originally cater to one genre of music, or was it always this diverse?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, Medda’s open to almost everything. She’s really big into music education, so it’s always important for her to keep a constant stack of the oldies in the back. Not that she doesn’t love Lizzo and Ariana Grande too. Just never try to buy an Elvis record in front of her, she’ll never let you leave the store.”
Katherine jotted a few notes down on the paper. “Why’s that?”
Sarah grinned slyly. “She’ll give you this look, you know? And then she’ll make you sit down and listen to a full hour of Big Mama Thorton’s greatest hits or something like that.”
“Wait, I’m sorry, who?”
“You know that Elvis song, the one about the hound dog? She was the original singer. Her voice pretty much created rock and roll, but her record company screwed her over and she got no money from it. Then three years later Elvis got a hold of it so…” Sarah shrugged. “Music history, it’s depressing as hell.”
“But I guess it’s better than not knowing at all.” Katherine looked seriously down at her notebook. She paused for a moment as she trailed her index finger up and down the metal spiral. “So, what type of music do you listen to?”
“Oh.” Sarah was slightly taken aback by the question. “Well, uh, I guess I like all types. Working here definitely opened my mind to a lot of things. Medda introduced me to the Alabama Shakes last year, and that was mostly ‘cause she saw I was into Sleater-Kinney and Janelle Monae.”
“Wait, Janelle Monae?” Katherine’s face instantly brightened up. “I LOVE her! Dirty Computer got robbed at the Grammys last year!”
Sarah threw up her hands in agreement. “Tell me about it! It was her best album yet! I didn’t think anything could top Electric Lady, but she blew me away with this one. And I’ve probably watched her music videos like, a million times.”
“Same!” Katherine nodded vigorously. “She and Tessa Thompson are so dreamy together.”
Sarah froze in surprise. Did Katherine just say what she thought she said? Usually she was the one to bring up anything queer related, and even then she was extremely cautious about how she phrased it. She didn’t want to make any assumptions about Katherine’s sexuality, she had been let down too many times in the past. But if Katherine was the one that was mentioning it… Sarah decided to cautiously probe further.
“You know, one of the best things about working in Medda’s store is how accepting everyone is. She was actually the first person I came out to, even before my brothers or my parents. She just gave me a big hug and made me listen to this ancient Bessie Smith record.” Katherine looked at her in surprise and Sarah felt her face flush. She quickly looked down and started to trace the rim around her coffee again. “She’s this jazz singer from like a hundred years ago. There was a movie about her on HBO.”
“That’s really nice. I-” Katherine’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I wish I could’ve had something like that.”
Sarah leaned back and drank deeply from her cup. This was not how she was expecting the morning to go. Katherine watched her intensely with those big brown eyes of hers. She gave a quick look over towards the counter where Mr. Jacoby was showing the new barista the proper method for steaming oat milk. She cleared her throat before looking back at Sarah. “Hope you don’t mind, I’ve already had my morning coffee, but I’ll probably sneak a danish on the way out. I’ve been obsessed with Jacoby’s baking since I was a kid.”
“Since you were a kid?” Sarah tried not to sound too surprised. “How come I’ve never seen you around before, my family stops in here all the time.”
Katherine shrugged. “I mean, you probably have, but I’ve never spent enough time here to get to know anyone very well. I went to a Montessori School that was about forty five minutes away for elementary school, and then I started at Pulitzer Academy in the sixth grade. It’s very… isolated over there.”
Sarah snorted into her coffee. “You don’t have to say that twice. I took a tour there a couple of years ago. The size of that gate was insane, I have no idea how people can be cooped up like that without going batshit.”
Katherine was now doodling miniature flowers into the margins of the paper. “Oh, trust me, we do go batshit. In one way or another.” She looked back at Sarah. “Why were you visiting the campus?”
Sarah paused for a moment, wondering if she should disclose something so personal with a girl she hardly knew. “I… actually got an academic scholarship to go there. I was supposed to start in the ninth grade. But, uh, the scholarship didn’t cover food or uniforms, plus I’d have to stay on campus which would be even more money and kinda pointless since my family lives in town so…” She trailed off, trying to gauge Katherine’s expression.
She remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been really tough.”
Sarah shrugged. “The public school isn’t too bad here. Honestly I feel worse for my brother. He’s even better at school than I am, but after all the crap I went through the year before, he didn’t even bother to apply. Which is too bad, I think he would have benefited from it more than me. Kid’s too curious for his own good sometimes.” She gave a shaky laugh.
Katherine looked shocked. “I had no idea that was going on. I mean, that’s ridiculous, I don’t pay full tuition ‘cause my family works there. In my opinion any kid who lives in the area should just go for free, at least for high school. We have way too many resources to just be hoarded like that.”
Sarah snorted and leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice. Tell that to the head of trustees next time you see him.”
Katherine awkwardly readjusted herself in her seat. “Well, you never know. He might be willing to listen if you give him the chance.”
“Doubt it.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “God, Joe Pulitzer.” She practically spat out the name. “What a pig. Swear to God, the moment he took over as head trustee this whole town turned to shit. First the school doesn’t have to pay taxes, then he wants to buy up as much property as he can! It’s insane, he probably wants to keep the whole town for himself and kick the rest of us out.” She brushed her hair back and shook her head. “It sucks your parents have to deal with him. What do they do for the school? Are they teachers?”
“Oh. Well. Um.” Katherine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Uh, Sarah, my parents aren’t teachers.”
“Oh.” Sarah leaned in curiously. “Do they do administration work?”
“No, uh…” Katherine’s face had gone red and she kept on shooting nervous looks towards the door. Sarah could feel a sinking sensation in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to make Katherine feel uncomfortable. But she wasn’t exactly sure if she had said anything wrong.
Katherine’s mouth was now pressed into a firm line. “Listen, I’ve got other interviews to get to, but uh, I want to be personally honest with you. My mom does a lot of fundraising for the school, but it’s not exactly a paid job, more like volunteering.”
“Oh, that’s nice. And your dad?”
“He’s head trustee.”
Sarah’s eyes shot open to the size of saucers. Katherine turned off the recording button and began to fiddle with the sides of her phone. “My grandfather is the founder of the school, so, uh, that’s what I meant when I said I grew up here.”
Sarah could feel all the blood drain from her face. “So, your dad is….”
Katherine began to put her notebook back in her bag. “I should get going.”
“No, Katherine, wait!” The guilt panged through Sarah like a gong. Katherine scooted her way out of the booth before she could get another word in. Her head was ducked low.
“It was really nice meeting you Sarah. I’ll let you know when the article is published.” She gave one look back before she sped up past the counter and pushed past the door, the bell giving a hollow ring to announce her departure.
“Wait, I’m…. sorry.” The apology came out pathetic and small. Sarah remained paralyzed in the booth, staying there for the rest of the morning and staring miserably down at her coffee as it grew cold. It was only when the sun started to hit her in the eye did she slide self consciously out of her seat and made her own way out the door.
___________________
“And you haven’t heard from her since?” Davey gave his sister a sympathetic look as he flipped the hanging sign at the front of the store from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. The final customers had been shuttled out of the store, which meant the only thing left to do was to go through the last of the day’s donations. Davey propped the door open with his sneaker so Jack could squeeze through with the final box. Sarah gazed morosely into the distance as he locked the door behind him.
“It’s been two days, and so far nothing. I’m such an idiot, I should’ve at least given her my phone number before she left.”
“You didn’t even get her number?” Jack gave her an incredulous look as he placed the box on the counter with the others. “I thought that’s the first thing you do before you go on a date.”
“I told you, it wasn’t a date.” Sarah half halfheartedly tossed an old cleaning rag at him. “It was two people having coffee under completely non romantic circumstances. And it was less than fifteen minutes. God knows how I managed to screw that up.”
“You really can’t put all the blame on yourself. The whole point of the article was to criticize her school. What you said makes perfect sense. If anything, she should’ve been more upfront about her family. You were honest, she wasn’t.” Davey dug his hand into a random box and awkwardly shoved a CD into Sarah’s unyielding hands. “Look, Dolly Parton. That’s a good sign. What does she always say, ‘you can’t have the rainbow without the rain?’”
Sarah glanced down at Dolly’s megawatt grin. She appreciated her brother’s effort, but she really wasn’t in the mood to be cheered up right now. She’d need at least another twenty four hours to properly marinate in her misery before moving on. Maybe she could order Chinese tonight and make the boys watch Moonstruck with her. If she was going to be heartbroken she might as well make the most out of it.
“Hey, maybe you can get her to come back again!” Jack was now sitting crossed legged on the floor, sorting the contents of a nearby crate by genre. “Send her school paper an email. Say Medda wants to have an interview in person before the article goes out. She comes in, then bam! You swoop her into your arms and she instantly forgives you!”
“See, that? That is the opposite of what I’m going to do. That is completely creepy.” Sarah sighed as she slid her back against the counter, landing in a kneeling position and hugging her knees to her chest. “I’m okay with the fact I’ll probably never see her again. There’ll be other girls to have fourteen minute coffee dates with.”
Jack looked up triumphantly. “So it was a date!”
Sarah brandished the Dolly CD threateningly. “Jack, swear to God, you’re gonna have a dent in your head by the end of the night if you don’t quit it.”
“Alright, fine, fine. I’m backing off.” He waved the rag in the air like a surrender flag. His eyes trailed over the line of boxes before him, and his face brightened again as he lingered on one at the very end. He picked it up and gently shoved it against Sarah’s boots. “Hey, you’re a fan of Janelle Monae, right?”
“Who isn’t?” Sarah muttered into her knees.
“Well this thing’s full of ‘em. Maybe Medda will let you keep some of it before we put it out into the market.”
Sarah blinked a few times and peeked cautiously into the containments of the box. Her breath faltered for a moment, and then her heart began to pound at a rapid pace, causing her hands to shake as she clutched the top album with a sweaty palm. It was Dirty Computer on vinyl, the plastic still on, and a pink sticky note stuck right on the chin of Janelle’s perfect face.
No hard feelings, you still owe me a coffee ;) - Katherine P.
On the back was a phone number. A shadow descended over Sarah’s shoulder as she continued to stare dumbfounded. Not even the sound of Jack’s voice could make her look away.
“So, anything worth keeping?”
“Oh yeah.” Sarah gripped the sides of the album tightly as a small grin started to spread across her face. She peeled off the sticky note and stuck it into her jean pocket. “This is something I’m not gonna let go of again.”
#Newsies#newsies musical#newsies broadway#newsies movie#newsies 1992#sarah jacobs#katherine pulitzer plumber#davey jacobs#jack kelly#medda larkin#My writing#fanfiction#newsies fanfiction
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Coming Attractions!
First Monday of the month (and year!) so it’s time for a Coming Attractions post!
(As a note, this post will discuss/reference certain EPIX/Rise of Skywalker spoilers.)
So, I didn’t get quite as much done this past month as I’d hoped overall--I’d planned to get way more Precipice done and get a bigger/better start on my Big Bang project, as well as more OFLAM, but the presents I was making for family members as well as a Secret Santa fic took up more time than I was expecting them to. Also, I. Uh. I found a Banjo-Kazooie emulator and my inner child became Very Demanding <.< >.>
Anyway! Specific updates:
Precipice:
I went into a fair amount of detail about the game plan for this fic here, and that’s still my goal. Hoping to get the next chapter out tomorrow? Fingers crossed…
SPOILER DISCUSSION
With regard to Rey’s parentage/Palpatine’s canonical son--as of right now, I don’t have any plans to include him in Precipice or any other projects I have going on right now. As with all my plans, this may change at some point--it’s highly unlikely for Precipice, specifically, given some of what I have planned for Lavinia; but I do have some AUs percolating where I could fit him in if I so chose.
The other reason for this is that, apart from Masks and Jedi of Valdemar, I don’t really have solid plotting out far enough to reach the ST? Rey’s background is definitely different in JoV (in that it’s…not actually relevant and probably won’t ever be clarified; but if it is, due to the way Palpatine is set up in that AU, her father can’t exist), and if I ever do get back to Masks!verse, I technically locked my canon as of TFA, but I may restructure or go in a different direction there as well.
But, yeah, apart from that--most of my projects center around the PT or inter-trilogy period, ranging into or shortly past the OT to deal with some of the aftermath/rebuilding, so it’s unlikely to come up. If I do end up writing something apart from the two mentioned above that gets into ST-era stuff, I’ll make the call on a case-by-case basis. Though I reserve the right to change my mind if/when we get supplementary material about Rey’s parents, depending on how much I like them XD
Overall, I guess what I should say is--generally speaking, I tend to work in a blended canon, particularly for post-ROTJ stuff, which means I use a lot of the political/social/general post-war how-things-worked framework from Legends, throwing in characters from canon because I adore them (and some Legends characters as well; at some point, I’ll put up the full JoV timeline which will demonstrate XD). So…yeah, case-by-case basis, like I said. Pick and choose, blended canon.
Mostly laying all this out because--well, if you’ve read my stuff/been following Precipice at all, I’m sure you can guess why. My overall EPIX reaction post is here if you’re curious, but I’m more or less planning to stick to my Star Wars “home,” so to speak, as I’ve already found it in terms of the things I write.
END SPOILER DISCUSSION
our faces like a mirror:
I really, really, really want to finally debut this fic before the Siege of Mandalore arc with S7 of TCW. Not that I think it’ll super Joss what I have planned? But I’d rather get it out there. I have a fair amount of material, especially for the first half, so I’ll hopefully be able to keep up a fairly regular update schedule when I get started? But we shall see.
Other Fanfic Projects:
I thought my Secret Santa turned out pretty well! And my giftee liked it, which is of course the goal XD There were a couple bits that didn’t make it into the final piece (including a point where Luke asked about his mother, but it got tangenty and threw off the rhythm of all three scenes I tried to fit it in, so).
Like I said, I didn’t get a whole lot of other stuff done last month, but for January, I’m hoping to work on my big bang project (I just need to figure out what Obi-Wan’s going to do; I’ve mostly got Anakin and Padme’s threads worked out, though I might shift some things around and I need to figure out a couple details on Anakin’s end. I thiiiiiink how I’m going to work on it is keep the three threads separate (though, because I’m me, I’ll be jumping around and not writing anything in order lol) and then figure out how to braid them together later, but we shall see.) I need to double-check the due date for the draft, but I should be able to get things done if I get my butt in gear.
So, yeah--given SWBB and my Precipice and OFLAM plans described above, I don’t think I’m gonna be working on much else this month, unless something really jumps out at me. Or I decide to fulltext anything I’ve been playing with re: some of the characters mentioned in the Family of Spies AU, which is always a possibility XD
So, to end the post--last January, I set up some Goals/New Years’ Resolutions! So, let’s see how I did and figure out goals for next year…
2019 goals:
1. Finish Precipice and at least one full arc of Protectors/Precipice II
…yeah, that didn’t happen. Whoops.
2. Write at least 7.5k of origfic content.
Just barely made it with 7,681 words \o/
3. Start posting OFLAM and/or Untitled ObiAniDala Epic AU
…well, I actually did end up using the Untitled Epic AU as my SWBB last year? (Which obviously eventually got a title, The Devoted.) I even did a companion piece! But that may be cheating, since when I set this goal, I was planning to set it aside and do something separate, lol…
4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic (Distaff or Auxiliaries or Phoenix!Verse)
…I don’t think I even wrote any content on those three this year, let alone posted/properly revived it, whoops…
5. Update Lux and Farglass Cycle archives, and transfer tumblr archive to DW
I didn’t finish the archive updates, but I did get a fair amount done, so yay! Did not transfer my tumblr archive, though. I should do that. Or at least re-download the backup…
6. At least four AU outline installments of some kind.
I got two? So…half-credit!
7. Complete BB submission, and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges/whatever.
As mentioned above, I did complete my submission, and I did a Secret Santa exchange! I possibly could’ve done more/kept a closer eye, but I did at least do something here, so, yay! Go me!
2020 goals (these will be…mostly repeats, lol…):
1. Finish Precipice; complete Arcs 8 and 9 in Protectors/Promises/Precipice II; put out some level of Arc 7.5/Preludes content.
2. Write at least 10k of origfic content.
3. Start posting OFLAM
4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic (i.e., Distaff; Auxiliaries; Phoenix!Verse; one of the BSG fics I keep meaning to go back to if I ever actually sit down and rewatch the series; if I add an actual sequel/companion to Deja Vu… that probably counts…)
5. Finish updating Lux and Farglass Cycle archives; keep them updated through the end of the year as new content gets added.
6. At least four AU outline installments of some kind; preferably including a continuation of Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience and actually writing up the main part of Let’s Go Steal a Crossover; but any outline will count.
7. Complete BB submission and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges.
8. Write at least one holiday fic (Valentine’s Day; Mother’s Day; Father’s Day; Halloween; New Year’s; etc.) and post on the appropriate day.
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a gilmore christmas | fic: instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle
title: instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle
word count: ~3,000
disclaimer: title is from ‘light a candle’ by neil young.
summary: post-revival | in which paris invites jess over for hanukkah for reasons not limited to doyle screwing up his flight and paris cutting out everyone due to election day reactions.
note: this was written for a gilmore christmas, so please make sure to check out all the works! thank you @alspancakeworld for hosting this again.
Jess only has Paris Geller's cell phone number because he babysat her two kids as a one-time thing: he happened to be in the city on the same night that her babysitter fell through and she had to go to a gala. It wasn't a bad night – he ordered pizza for the kids, they watched some animated movies that he missed when he was their age; he occasionally texted Paris, who checked in every hour. The kids were supposed to go to bed at eight, but he let them stay up and they tired themselves out by nine. Paris came home at one in the morning, tired and a little tipsy and she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, which he doesn't think she would've ever done if she were sober. The next morning, he made breakfast for the family and then left.
That was about a month ago and he didn't expect to hear from her so soon, let alone a week before Christmas:
From Paris Geller:
I’m assuming you’re not doing anything for the holidays this year because I’m told you rarely see your family during that time, so if that’s the case, you can come to my Hanukkah gathering on the 24th.
From Paris Geller:
I’ve had to cut out 80% of my social circle due to the election and Doyle isn’t going to make it until Boxing Day because he’s a self-centered writer and screwed up booking a simple red eye.
From Paris Geller:
And my kids actually like you, so please.
Jess stares at the series of texts, completely flabbergasted.
From Jess Mariano:
I figured since you were in the medical field you would be in better company.
From Paris Geller:
You’d think, but they’re either too wealthy and want to keep their $$$, they’re self-hating Jews, and/or they voted for Jill Stein.
From Jess Mariano:
Yikes.
From Paris Geller:
It’s been a rough 6 weeks.
He knows. After the gala, after she kissed his cheek in thanks, she proceeded to hiss about an asshole donor who loves his hunting rifles and money too much and how he's confident about the upcoming administration, tears of rage in her eyes. He couldn't judge her for that since Rory was incapacitated for days and can only imagine Paris just functioning for her kids' wellbeing.
(And he himself punched a hole in the wall at Truncheon at two in the morning on election night, drunker than he'd been in years, but nobody knows that.)
From Jess Mariano:
Yep.
From Paris Geller:
So, can you come? Incentives: you sleep in the guest room, you have access to my PRIVATE gym, state of the art kitchen, books.
From Jess Mariano:
You think you have me all figured it out don’t you.
From Paris Geller:
Private. Gym.
Jess sighs and rubs his eye before cupping his jaw in thought. It’s true, he hasn’t gone out of his way to come to Stars Hollow for the holidays for a variety of reasons, most of which revolve around bad memories with Liz, and recently he’s enjoyed spending the time either by himself or with a few other misfits watching Reservoir Dogs (his choice) and Die Hard (definitely not his choice).
From Paris Geller:
AND I’m buying good rugelach. I’m going to Park Slope for them.
He does have an appreciation for good rugelach. Besides, with Chris attempting to mend his relationship with his brother and going out of town and Matthew going to his grandmother’s house, he thinks he can close up shop for a few days.
From Jess Mariano:
Do I need to bring anything?
From Paris Geller:
No, just respectable clothes.
From Jess Mariano:
Do you still picture me like I’m seventeen wearing camo and baggy pants?
From Paris Geller:
Obviously. I bet it shocks you every time to see my short hair.
From Jess Mariano:
Fair point. I’ll come after lunch.
From Paris Geller:
No, you come FOR lunch. You’re a guest. I will feed you.
From Jess Mariano:
I have a hard time imagining your cooking…
From Paris Geller:
I’m going to take you out to lunch in a damn restaurant. Unless you have made up important work to get done on Christmas Eve.
From Jess Mariano:
Okay…I’ll come for lunch.
From Paris Geller:
Great. See you then.
Jess reads over the exchange and shakes his head.
**
"So, what are you doing for Christmas this year? Staying at Truncheon?" Luke asks a few days before Christmas Eve.
"No, I'll be in New York," Jess answers as he's doing sit ups on his bedroom floor.
"Who's there?"
Jess sighs, does two more sit ups, and picks up the phone by his hip on the ground. "Are the Gilmores around?"
"What, why?"
"Because I don't want to deal with a reaction right now."
"Okay, weirdo, no, I'm in the storage room. Why is this a secret?"
Jess runs his teeth over his bottom lip. "Paris."
"What?"
"Paris Geller. I'm doing Hanukkah with her and her kids."
"…But why?"
"Because she asked and I figured why the hell not." He puts the phone back down and does another set of sit ups.
He does a few before Luke asks, "Is this about Rory?"
Jess clenches his jaw as he propels himself forward. "Not everything is about her."
"You know you're always welcome –"
"Thanks, Luke, but I'm good."
"Okay, if you say so…but Paris? Really?"
"You know, she's not terrible."
"She's terrifying."
She's a force of nature, but Jess just thinks at the end of the day, Paris Geller is someone who takes what she wants by sheer will and has always had a hard time finding – and keeping – people in her life who respect it. There's nothing terrifying about it. (Although the glint in her eyes when she talks about certain things like politics and women in television is a little bit concerning.)
"You know Rory and Lorelai are going to find out about it."
Obviously, but Jess doesn't want to have a conversation about it with Rory, who will probably be territorial about it. "Whatever, at least it's not right now."
"What are you doing?"
Jess finishes his last sit up. "Sit ups. Now pushups."
"You still have to tell me how the hell –"
"Bye, Luke, speak to you later." Jess hangs up on him, flips over, and begins his first rep of pushups.
**
(Look, Rory being pregnant is…whatever. None of his business.)
**
Even though Paris told Jess not to bring anything, he buys bagels because that's typically his go-to 'thank you for hosting me' gift since everyone loves a New York bagel. And he buys jelly doughnuts since he wasn't sure if she just bought rugelach and also, he was hungry on his way in and wanted a quick snack. And going by the way her collarbones are sticking out and her face appearing a little gaunter than the last time he saw her, he's glad he brought both.
Gabriela and Timothy hug him and make him promise to draw and play games and do other kid things that will end up exhausting him. But he likes them – they're surprisingly warm children, especially considering who gave birth to them.
"Alright, let's get moving, we have a reservation!" Paris says over their excited squeals. "Coats on! Hats too!"
"Where are we going, exactly?" Jess asks.
Paris rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, I picked American food."
"I wouldn't have minded diversity," he says with an amused smile. "I grew up with six different types of cuisine in the same block."
"There's Chinese tomorrow night."
"Wow, really? Something tells me you didn't adhere to that Jewish tradition growing up," he laughs.
Paris smiles. "Definitely not, but my mom ate a handful of almonds and coffee on a daily basis, so that was out of the question."
"You're going to have to buy a vat of lo mein," he warns her as he gets down on a knee to help Gabriela zip her coat.
"Don't worry, you won't starve," Paris scoffs, ushering her kids out the front door. "And, obviously," she adds, as if he were crazy to suggest not ordering enough lo mein to feed a family for a week.
"Just making sure," Jess sighs, shutting the door behind him.
**
Jess didn't know much about Hanukkah prior to living with Matthew. Before, his knowledge stemmed from "The Hanukkah Song" and living in some predominantly Jewish neighborhoods. Now, he has a better understanding – he even knows the blessings recited when lighting the menorah, but he butchers the pronunciation, according to Matthew, so he was never expected to do the honors.
"Who remembers the blessings of the first night?" Paris asks.
Jess raises his hand.
"Who out of the practicing Jews in the room remembers the blessing of the first night?" Paris clarifies dryly as her children giggle.
"Can't I be an honorary Jew?" he asks. "I bet if we put it to a vote, I'd win." He grins at her children, who beam back at him.
"Be quiet, James Taggart. Gabriela? Your Hebrew School teacher said you were doing well," Paris says, running her thumb over the apple of her daughter's cheek.
"Who's James?" Timothy asks.
"A character from a bad writer," Jess answers.
"You can't judge a writer by one book," Paris argues.
"Ayn Rand writes the same s…garbage every time. One is enough. Let Gabriela recite the blessings."
Paris scowls and shakes her head.
Jess technically only knows the first two blessings which are said every night of Hanukkah, so when Gabriela stumbles over a word, he whispers the correct one in her ear. He lights the middle candle with a Bic lighter from his pocket when Paris gives him a nod. Gabriela and Timothy both keep a hand on Jess' when he lights the rightmost candle after the third blessing is recited.
"You did beautifully," Paris says.
"Couldn't have done it better myself," Jess adds, putting the candle back in the menorah.
"Tomorrow, you can light the second candle," Paris tells Timothy, who nods.
"I'm going to be perfect," Timothy announces, very much an echo of his mother.
Jess will be very interested in how Timothy will grow up.
Jess got Timothy a stack of coloring books and a nice set of colored pencils since he seemed to have the bigger passion for art the last time he saw him. He gave Gabriela a large set of multicolored beads and different kinds of strings to make her own jewelry.
"What the fuck, Mariano, what is this gift giving genius?" Paris says quietly through her teeth.
"Nice alliteration. I thought about getting them the likes of The Phantom Tollbooth and Jacob Have I Loved but I figured you should do the honors in a couple of years."
She looks away innocently, eyes falling toward the closet where he's sure she's keeping her children's gifts. He feels such a strange sort of fondness for her.
After the kids are tucked in, Paris opens a fresh bottle of wine and Jess places a gift for her on the kitchen counter.
She stares at it blankly for a second. "Really?"
"You really have a horrible preconception of me," he jokes. "It's not much."
She finishes pouring the glasses and puts the wine back in the cooler before opening the box, which has an Amazon gift card and a nice, expensive pen.
She smiles – a soft, genuine one that probably hasn't been seen by many.
"Okay, I got you something too," she says, going over to the closet outside of the kitchen.
He opens the neatly wrapped gift and laughs, finding an Amazon gift card on top of a pile of different sized Moleskin journals, all black.
"I'm a cliché, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but it's fine. We all have our faults."
He snorts and sticks the card into the topmost journal. "Got any more latkes?"
So they're sitting on the couch with a plate of reheated latkes, a bowl of leftover blue and white jellybeans, and full glasses wine.
"This upcoming year is going to suck," Paris whines.
He nods in agreement.
"I swear to God, if I knew this was going to happen, I wouldn't have had kids. I'm devastated that my children will be exposed to this bullshit and will probably have to fix it their entire lives."
Jess frowns. "Not that I'm Mr. Optimistic, but I'm hoping we won't totally fuck ourselves over irreparably."
"Yeah, yeah."
"I have a hard time imagining this future fucked up administration will turn your kids into assholes. I'm sure you're instilling good feminist values."
"Honestly, Timothy I think will bully his peers into believing the right things. He reminds me of me so much, it's scary."
"He glowers like you, it's unnerving," he agrees.
"Gabriela has her moments when it's like I'm looking in a mirror, but she's definitely got Doyle's demeanor."
"How's that going?"
Paris sighs. "I can't imagine getting back with him. He's not the same. And neither am I in some respects, but –"
"You feel like you've pretty much stayed the same," he assumes.
She stares at him. "Is that bad?"
He shrugs. "I don't think so."
They drink and eat in silence for a few moments.
"I can't believe she's pregnant," Paris says flatly before bringing the glass to her mouth. She takes a long drink. "I know she was going through…I don't know. A rough patch. But…pregnant?"
He vividly recalls sitting across from a desk, sipping half-terrible whiskey as Rory talks about having no underwear. He doesn't bring that up, but he hums in agreement and drinks.
"Is it weird to be disappointed in a friend? Because I feel that way."
He shrugs. "Don't know. Probably not."
She stares at him over her glass. "You were a dark horse."
"What?"
"I mean, I never would've guessed this scenario happening in a million years."
"Is it the hair?" he jokes.
"The success, the lack of attitude, the rippling pectorals."
He just stops himself from laughing out loud. "Please don't ever say that again."
"Oh, come on, you're jacked, it's ridiculous, who are you." She finishes her wine. "What are you even doing with your abs, because I can't for the fucking life of me get rid of this pouch of fat right below my belly button."
"Are we going to work out together tomorrow morning?" he half-jests, but judging by the way her eyes flash with determination, he knows she takes the suggestion seriously.
"I'm up at seven and I think the kids will be in a food coma."
He shakes his head and finishes his wine.
**
As much as Jess enjoys doing plenty of things on his own, it's actually not bad exercising with Paris. They keep headphones in for most of the time and they somehow motivate each other, mostly by Paris staring holes into his face while either of them are completing sets.
While they're finishing up, both of her kids come in and exclaim "Happy Chrismukkah!" which Jess didn't realize was still a thing people outside of his friend group – still stuck in the mid-2000s – said to one another.
"Can you make pancakes again, Jess? Please?" Timothy asks.
"Yeah, please!" Gabriela echoes.
"Depends if your mother –" Jess starts.
"Oh, don't worry, I have everything you'll need, I was prepared for this request" Paris interrupts him.
Jess laughs. "Of course."
**
He makes chocolate chip pancakes for the kids and omelets for himself and Paris, even though they end up eating a pancake or two.
Paris gives her kids a few gifts to open in the spirit of Christmas, taking pictures and sending them to Doyle. They change into new winter-themed pajamas and watch holiday-themed movies.
At one point, Paris orders a disgusting amount of Chinese food to have delivered, but Jess offers to pick up.
On his walk, he calls Luke.
"He lives."
Jess rolls his eyes. "Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Luke."
"Merry Christmas. How's it going over there?"
"Very nice."
"Seriously?"
"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here. Have you seen Liz yet?"
"We're having dinner later. She didn't call you yet?"
"I'm sure it's coming."
"It's Jess, want to say hello?" Luke asks distractedly.
Jess bites back a sigh.
"Hi, Jess, Merry Christmas!" Lorelai says. "Remember, if you need help, just text the SOS emoji and we'll send a brigade."
"Pretty sure the brigade has the day off along with the post office – I think I'll survive in the meantime."
"Wish Paris and her kids a Happy Hanukkah."
"I will."
There a few seconds of silence until: "Merry Christmas, Jess."
He wets his bottom lip. "Merry Christmas, Rory."
"I have another chapter done – at this rate, maybe by spring, the first draft will be done."
"Your rate is definitely better than mine at the moment. I hope when you're done you'll consider submitting a draft to a smaller publishing company."
"Truncheon is number one on the list."
He smiles. He reaches the restaurant and comes to a stop. "I gotta go, but I'm sure I'll see you around."
"Bye, Jess."
He hangs up and for a moment, he considers the fact that next year, she'll have a few-months-old baby, and desperately wishes for a strong drink.
**
(There's a point when Liz calls and while the conversation is brief – he speaks at length with Doula of all the gifts she received and thanking him for his gifts that he sent in the mail – Paris at one point slides him a beer and they cheer to being better than their shitty mothers. When the kids go to sleep, they watch Reservoir Dogs and Miracle on 34th Street and eat more Chinese food. Jess considers making more of an effort to hang out with Paris and her kids with the new year.)
**
Doyle arrives early in the morning and there's a weird moment when he sizes Jess up, which Jess doesn't want to think about or consider.
But Jess leaves soon after, letting the Geller-McMaster family have their time alone. Paris sends Jess home with leftover latkes and Chinese food and a box of rugelach. He's not one for hugs still, but he's okay with hugging Gabriela and Timothy and Paris.
On his drive home, he sneaks a rugelach or two, considers where he's going to hang up the drawings Timothy gave him, his new beaded bracelets made by Gabriela rolling up and down his wrist.
(He's also very excited to hole himself in his room and read, but that's just because some things just won't change.)
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