#has nothing to do with hannukah but it does have to do with a little guy

[gxrlcinema]

for dreidel drabbles can you write something about bucky celebrating hanukah with non-jewish!reader for the first time

the first night of hannukah

Pairing: Jewish!Bucky x Gentile!Reader

A/n: I did my best on this, but I've never been new to Hannukah, so it was sort of a hard perspective to adopt. Also, a lot of the Hannukkah traditions mentioned here are specific to Ashkenazi Jews, so it's not a complete representation of all Hannukkah celebrations.

“What do you mean you haven’t done Hannukah since 1944?” you ask your boyfriend, your incredulous eyebrows lifted high on your face. 

You and Bucky were sitting on the couch in his apartment - the one you’d convinced him to purchase so he would actually have furniture - cuddled up and ready to watch a movie.

“Exactly what I said,” Bucky says in an even tone. “It was hard to celebrate during the war and HYDRA weren’t exactly uh-” he pauses, keeping his tone too even, “fans of the Jewish holidays.”

You wince. Of course they weren’t. But-

“But you’ve been back for years,” you say quietly to your hands. You know Bucky smiles at you in that way he does that looks like he’s swallowing glass. 

“The first year I didn’t remember I was Jewish until Hannukkah had already gone. Then I was in cryo in Wakanda, then I was dust…” his smile’s tinged with sadness, “I guess I’ve just had no one to celebrate with since then.”

You frown, then lean further into his side, as though pressing yourself all the way against him can chase all the sadness away. 

“Would you want to celebrate Hannukkah this year?” you ask.

Bucky scoffs. “Baby, what do you know about Hannukkah?”

“Enough!” you defend. Then you think. “Okay, well, nothing. But I could learn. We could get that candleholder thing-”

“A menorah?”

“-and I’ll make Jewish foods and research other Hannukkah things and it’ll be like, the perfect Hannukkah Bucky please?”

Your boyfriend’s expression is incredulous, but he smiles and shakes his head. 

“Alright, baby. We’ll do Hannukkah.”

“Yes!” you pump your fist. 

“Uh, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“When’s Hannukkah?”

When Bucky walks into your apartment on the first night of Hannukah, menorah in hand, it’s clear that maybe he should’ve checked in on you a little more beforehand. Your apartment is spotless. The console table that’s normally in your entryway has been moved in front of the windows on the other side of the room, where a box of candles and a lighter are already set out. The dining table between the door and the windows is set with your nice plates and silverware. On it sits a brisket, what Bucky thinks is probably sweet kugel, and a bottle of Manischewitz. The whole house smells like fried onion, a familiar scent Bucky knows will linger until New Year’s, which means you also made latkes. His suspicion is confirmed when you come running out of the kitchen, a plate of the potato pancakes in your hands. 

“You’re here!” you shout, gently placing the plate of latkes on the table before running to Bucky and throwing your arms around him. “Chag Hannukah sameach!”

Your Hebrew is slow, awkward, and horribly mispronounced, but Bucky simply smiles and kisses you on the cheek. You pull away, grinning. 

“I figured we could light the candles first and then dinner? I moved the console table so that you could have the menorah in the window. Oh, and I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that kosher food needed to be made in a kosher kitchen, so the food isn’t really kosher. I thought a rabbi just blessed it or something, but it’s actually really complicated. You can’t have cheeseburgers?”

Bucky’s eyes go wide as you continue to talk at him a mile a minute. 

“Oh! I have sufganiyot in the oven for after dinner, and I bought gelt and even a couple dreidels if you want to play. I tried to find a Hannukkah movie on streaming but there are like, zero Hannukkah movies in existence and-”

“Baby,” Bucky cuts you off. “It’s okay. It’s more than okay, actually. This is amazing.”

His eyes are wide, an indication that he’s more than a little overwhelmed. Your smile deflates. 

“I went overboard, didn’t I?”

“Definitely,” Bucky agrees easily. “You know Hannukah’s a minor holiday, right?”

You pout, cheeks going hot. “Yeah, actually. It came up in my research.”

Bucky laughs, full and bright. You put your face in your hands, feeling like an idiot. 

“I just wanted to make it a perfect Hannukah for you!”

“It is!” Bucky says through a laugh. 

He pulls your hands from your face, brow furrowing as he takes in your hurt expression. 

“Baby, it’s beyond perfect. I didn’t even think I was celebrating this year and you…” he looks around the room, “put every household in Jerusalem to shame.”

You groan, leaning your face into his chest to hide your renewed embarrassment. Bucky holds you there, leaning down to kiss your temple. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers. “It’s more than anyone’s ever done for me, more than I could ever dream of. Thank you.”

When you look up, you find Bucky’s steel blue eyes shiny with tears. “Thank you,” he says again. 

“You’re welcome,” you mumble, your embarrassment dimmed considerably by how touched your boyfriend looks. “Do you want to light the candles now?”

“Yeah,” he releases you from his hold. “You didn’t learn the blessings, did you?”

Your cheeks go hot again. “I mean, I might’ve listened to a couple recordings so I’d pronounce them right…”

Bucky shakes his head. “Oy gevult, showed up by a goy on Hannukah. My ma’s probably rolling in her grave.”

You gasp and turn to him, worried you’d somehow ruined the evening, but Bucky’s got a Chesire cat grin spreading across his face. That alone makes all the effort and embarrassment worth it.

Shoutout to @firefly-graphics for the hannukah dividers!

If you liked this please reblog and/or leave a comment letting me know what spoke to you!

#ip8nights #💙 dreidel drabbles #tiff 🐢 #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #jewish!bucky x reader #jewish!bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[gnattyplayssims]

1909 Pt1 - The Next Generation

Unfortunately Elena's worst fear came true. Shortly after getting married, she discovered she was pregnant. "What's the big deal? We're married."

"I'm just not ready and I'm scared."

"Well talk to my mom about it!"

"I want to talk to my HUSBAND about it!"

Daniel was irritated with Elena's reaction and told his dad as much. "What does she want me to do about it. Children are a woman's job."

"What are you talking about. I know I didn't raise you to be a man who let's his wife do all the work. Do you think raising twins was easy!"

Uriah was quick to share the news with his wife. "We're going to be grandparents!"

"Yes, but if Daniel thinks he can treat his wife like this, he has another thing coming. I knew you shouldn't have been filling his head with all those promises."

"Good thing he'll have us."

While Uriah and Abigail discussed their sons poor attitude, Elena did her best to recover from her husband's hurtful words. One way or another, a baby was coming and she would have to be a mom with or without her husband's support.

Thankfully for Elena, she also had Daniel's sisters who were getting older. Jemmah who had always been an independent and wild baby had turned into a little thrill-seeker. Despite being a girl she was always ready to put her brothers in their places.

Esther on the other hand was much more helpful with the more ladylike parts of running the household. She worked hard to make sure that nothing went to waste even at a young age and she was more than willing to teach Elena what needed to be done.

But the sibling who gave Elena the most support was David. "I know all this is hard for you and my brother can be harsh but if you ever need help it wouldn't be the first time I've hung the laundry."

"I can't have you doing my chores for me. But thank you!"

"Anytime!"

1909 Pt2 - Another Hannukah

#mizrahi legacy #antique generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

[gay-otlc]

No Limits To Love

Summary: Despite being an Empath, Keefe doesn't know any of the answers. He's just as lost and confused as everyone else about love. What is it? he wonders. And is there a limit to how much I can feel?

Content warnings: Homophobia, polyamory discrimination (polyamphobia? idk), getting kicked out for being LGBTQ+, cursing, religion.

Words: 5350

Read on AO3:

As an Empath, Keefe knows that every person's emotions are so different, unique, but there are a few similarities that everyone shares. Everyone feels a little bit confused, a little bit lost. Even if the feeling isn't strong enough for them to notice, there's an underlying sense of it when he can press his skin against theirs and sense their emotions. And, regardless of how angry, how hateful, a person is feeling, there's always a deep, enormous, feeling of love within them.

No one really knows what love is; we're all lost, and confused, as searching for answers. We all have so many questions about it; What does it mean to love someone? How do you know when you love someone? Should we tell people we love them more often? Less often? Can you love someone too much? Can you never love anyone enough? How many people can you love at once?

And despite being an Empath, Keefe doesn't know any of the answers. He's just as lost and confused as everyone else about love. What is it? he wonders. And is there a limit to how much I can feel?

At first, Keefe has no idea what love is, nothing to even base a vague understanding off of.

His father says love is when you're proud of someone, and his mother says love is when someone is important to you, though neither of them seem particularly interested in helping a five year old Keefe solve all the mysteries of life. His father, telling Keefe to stop bothering him so he can work, doesn't seem particularly proud, and his mother, focusing more on whatever notebook she's scribbling in than on her son, doesn't seem like she considers Keefe particularly important to her.

"Why do you think loving someone means being proud of them?" Keefe asks. His father thinks this is stupid, he can tell, but it's important to Keefe. In his mind, this might be the most important thing in the world, discovering what love is. It's something new to learn, to explore, his favorite thing to do. He's learning so much about the world and how it works; how to read stories, how to draw people that look like people, how to write his name so that he can actually read it, and it seems like each new discovery brings on an entirely new set of new questions.

His father gives a long, over-exaggerated sigh. Keefe shrinks away. He's always not the best at understanding what his parents are thinking or what they want him to do, but he's learned by now that a sigh that sounds like that means his father is disappointed, and his father being disappointed is bad. "You can't love someone without a reason," he says finally, looking between Keefe and the door like answering will make Keefe go away faster. "People have to do things that make you love them, earn your love by making you proud. You can't love someone who disappoints you."

The underlying message is obvious, even to Keefe- if he doesn't make his father proud, if he disappoints his father instead, his father will not love him.

Oh.

He nods and quietly walks away to go ask his mother the same question, hoping his mother will be happier about it.

She isn't.

"Yeah, but what makes someone important to you?" he asks.

She flicks her eyes up at him before returning them to her notebook. When he tries to look at what she's writing, she tilts it away from him. "Someone is important to you if they help you with things you need to do, and you think your life would be very different without them." Keefe wonders what his parents' lives would be like if he didn't exist- probably much more boring, he concludes, but then again, they're shut up in their offices all the time anyway, they would probably do the same thing with only a few small differences.

He loves existing, all the new discoveries and experiences and fun, but him existing might not matter to his parents as much as it matters to him. He asks anyway; "Am I important to you?"

"You will be," she says quietly, finally looking at him.

Keefe goes back to his room to think about this new knowledge he's gained, about what love means. Who's right? Is there even a right answer? He dismisses the second question quickly- of course there is. Everything has an answer, and this can't be an exception. Maybe his father is right, and in order to be loved by his parents, he has to do things that make them proud, and never let them down; he has to do thinks much differently, then. Or maybe he has to help his mother. With what? Maybe he needs to get their attention more, make sure he's making a big impact on their lives.

Love sounds hard, and confusing. Everyone says it's a good thing, but he doesn't know. If love is a good thing, why does it make him so sad when he does the things his parents say will earn him love? Why do his parents say they love each other, and then scream at each other downstairs so loudly that nothing Keefe does can block out the noise?

Love isn't beautiful. It's ugly.

...

When Keefe meets Fitz Vacker, he has to rethink this decision.

Love may be ugly, but Fitz is absolutely beautiful. He has bronze skin and a strange accent and a loud laugh that makes Keefe feel like he's just bitten into an especially gooey slice of mallowmelt. Most of the time, he hears people talk about how beautiful the Vackers' teal eyes are, but he's particularly partial to Fitz's crooked slight smile, like he's a bit hesitant to be really happy, but something's broken through his walls and he's smiling anyway. When Keefe realizes he's the one who made Fitz happy enough to smile, it feels like it's worth more than a million compliments from anyone else.

This is stupid. Why is Keefe thinking so much about a boy's smile?

Well, it is a nice smile.

That aside, he's never really had a good friend before Fitz. He's had other children of prestigious nobles to spend time with, but none of them were ever really all that close to his own age, and Keefe had always preferred to daydream- or, if he was allowed, draw- rather than talk to them.

Having a friend is... nice.

It's nice, and something else. He's not sure what to call it, since it's all so new and unfamiliar. If he didn't know better, he might call it love, but this isn't love. This isn't anything like what his parents described, that ugly thing that makes him struggle for them not to hate him, that doesn't stop them from throwing things at one another. No, this is so much better, sweeter. It's not messy, or complicated, or difficult, it's just... him. And Fitz.

It doesn't need to be love. It doesn't even need a name. He likes Fitz, and he likes what they have together.

He starts spending more time at Everglen, with Fitz's family, and he notices something. They say "I love you" to one another. A lot. Della says it to her children before they leave for school, and Biana says she loves Alvar before she hangs up on an imparter call, and Fitz says I know you love me when Biana gets mad at him for stealing her ripplefluffs.

Keefe's first impression is that they toss the phrase around so often it's lost its meaning, but that might be wrong too. They seem to mean it every time. It's so confusing to Keefe- they say I love you even if no one did anything special to earn it, or even if one of the kids messed something up earlier that day. People in that family promise to love each other no matter what, a concept that doesn't make any sense, because what if someone doesn't do enough to deserve it? What then?

Fitz and his family celebrate something called Hanukkah. He says they light candles to remember miracles that happened when the Jewish people were in danger. And he invites Keefe to come light the candles with them.

"Are you sure?" Keefe asks. "I don't want to intrude on your holiday."

"No, don't be ridiculous. I'd be happy to have you there. It's a lot of fun, and you have to try latkes, and please, you have to help me beat Biana at dreidel, she's been unstoppable for the last five or so years-"

"I have no idea what most of the words you just said were... I don't understand any of your traditions, and I don't want to bother you guys by asking all these questions all the time." His parents are already annoyed by him, and he doesn't want to annoy anyone else.

Fitz reaches out and grabs Keefe's hand. Keefe gasps a little, cheeks heating up. Why is his stomach flipping around so much? They're just holding hands. It's not that big a deal. It's not that big a deal. "You aren't a bother," Fitz says, his voice soft but firm.

Keefe swallows hard, telling himself not to cry. "I-"

"I promise, I want you there. I wouldn't invite you if I didn't. And my parents want you there too. Honestly, the whole family loves you."

Love. There was that word again. The strange, confusing one. But it's not so strange and confusing when the Vacker's say it. It's not filled with expectations and disappointment; simply kindness, and happiness. It's not all that complicated. They simply care about each other.

And about him?

"The whole family?" he asks hesitantly, trying to ask whether that includes Fitz without actually asking whether that includes Fitz.

Fitz gets the message. "The whole family. That means me too."

And that's when he knows for sure that love isn't really ugly, because nothing between Fitz and him can really be ugly.

He goes to Everglen, and they light the candles. Keefe doesn't know the prayers, but they sound nice, and the candles feel warm and safe. Latkes taste delicious, and Biana beats them all at the dreidel game just like Fitz predicted. Keefe can't remember feeling this happy in, well, a very long time. Maybe ever. Fitz and Biana explain the story behind Hannukah in more detail, and Keefe finds himself especially interested in the description of the miracles.

It's a miracle he found Fitz, he thinks. A miracle he found love. And now, to him, love means kindness and warmth.

It's... nice.

...

Then he falls in love with Sophie, and that's... different, somehow.

He's had a crush on her for a long time; not immediately since he's known her, but since they rode on Silveny together for the first time. But if he tries, he thinks he can pinpoint the moment he knew he'd fallen in love.

They go to the Forbidden Cities- a city called Amsterdam. Not to run away from the Neverseen or go on a mission for the Black Swan, but simply to have fun. Fitz is busy with homework, but Keefe is happy to procrastinate, and Sophie's parents are trying to make her "have fun with her friends" more often in situations that don't involve almost dying. So here they are, Sophie rolling her eyes at Keefe's fifth "dam" joke, Keefe laughing as he looks at the elaborate canals.

"Come on, you idiot," she says, holding out her hand. Keefe takes it. "Do you want to go to the Van Gogh museum?"

"Who's Van Gogh?" Keefe asks.

Sophie starts walking, pulling Keefe along with her. "I always forget how little you guys know about human stuff. Makes it weird to have twelve years worth of human knowledge permanently in my head, none of which I can say without confusing you. Anyway, Van Gogh is an artist. I think you'd like him."

"Sure, sounds fun," he agrees.

A guy on a bicycle passes them. He calls something out in a language Keefe doesn't recognize. Turning to Sophie, he asks "What did he just say?"

Sophie's cheeks are red. "He said, what a cute couple."

"Oh," is all Keefe can say. Obviously it's crossed his mind, the thought that it might be a date, but... do they really look that couple-y from an outside perspective? He thinks about it. They're holding hands, her enthusiastically pulling him along, both of them smiling... yeah, it makes sense that they would be perceived as a couple. The idea makes butterflies fly through him, nervous and embarrassed and excited all at once.

He likes her, a lot. And he likes what they have together, this state of holding hands and teasing one another and having fun. It doesn't need a name. But it would be nice if it did. He would really like to say it for sure, they have something romantic going on. He wants her to be his girlfriend, him to be her boyfriend, and Fitz...

He wants them to date, that's all.

Keefe swallows. He likes what they have right now, and he knows he's about to create a new thing- something new, and unfamiliar, and terrifying. Admist the fear, though, he can't wait to explore it. "Is he right?" he asks.

Sophie bites her lip. It's the cutest thing. "Do you want him to be?"

"I do, yes," Keefe says.

"Then I do too." Sophie smiles at him, and he smiles back.

It was as simple as that.

They continue on to the museum. As Sophie predicted, Keefe does like the paintings there, but he tells Sophie he thinks he could do better. Later, she casually mentions that Van Gogh cut off his ear and laughs at the expression on Keefe's face. Once they leave the museum, Sophie finds some human money that Dex gave her and the two of them struggle for a while to convert it into whatever currency Amsterdam uses- it's still baffling to Keefe how the humans all use different types of money, though Sophie just shrugs when he points it out. Finally, they figure it out and Sophie buys them a boat tour.

By the time they're ready to go back, it's dark out, and they're going to be in so much trouble if they get caught, and dam, that was a lot of fun. Keefe throws an arm around Sophie's shoulder, absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair, as they leap back. Every time the floor creaks a little too loudly, they freeze and look at each other with wide eyes before carefully continuing.

After too many close calls, they make it to Sophie's room. "That was terrifying," Sophie gasps, collapsing on her bed. "My parents would have murdered me. And you. They definitely would have murdered you."

"Yeah, undoubtedly," says Keefe. He sits down on the bed next to her, face splitting into a grin. "We didn't get caught, though."

Sophie smiles back, and Keefe finds himself unable to draw his gaze away from her lips. "No, we didn't." Her smile grows wider, and suddenly, Keefe isn't staring at her lips anymore, he's staring at her eyes. They're sparkling, wide and enthusiastic, and a bit mysterious, like Keefe could stare into them forever and never learn everything. He wants to try. "I had so much fun."

"So did I," Keefe replies. And it's true- he had so much fun looking at art and learning that the artist cut his ear off, going through the city's canals and listening to Sophie ramble about everything she'd learned about the city. It was exciting, interesting. But then again, isn't every day like that, with Sophie? It doesn't matter whether they're illegally traveling to Amsterdam or working on Elvin History homework together- every conversation, every moment with Sophie is just as interesting, just as exciting, because he and Sophie are together.

He loves her. The thought crosses his mind, and he wonders why it hasn't before. It's so obvious, so undeniably true, that he knows he loves her as soon as he takes the time to think about it.

The only question in his mind is that love feels so much different with Fitz and with Sophie, but he knows he loves them both. Loving Fitz feels warm and sweet and kind, and loving Sophie feels like an adventure, a new world he wants to know everything about, terrifying and thrilling and exhilarating.

...

Maybe love is an adventure, or maybe it's kindness, or maybe it's ugly after all, but whatever it is, there's so much of it. He feels this strange, indescribable love for Sophie every time she blushes at his flirtatious comments, every time she trips and gives a slight chuckle at her clumsiness, every time she absentmindedly hums a human song under her breath as they do homework together. And he feels it for Fitz too, when his eyes light up any time he talks about baking, the little grin he does when he wins at base quest, when he tries to flirt with Keefe or Sophie and ends up an adorable, stuttering disaster.

He still doesn't understand why love feels so different when he's with Sophie and when he's with Fitz, but he's in love with them all the same. Both of them. He loves them both, beyond understanding, beyond words.

Other people wouldn't understand either. That's okay, neither does he. But he doesn't have to know why he feels this way to know that he does, because he feels it so much, so strongly.

They feel it too- for him, and for each other. Sophie tells them once, back when they were going through their "love triangle" phase, that she was sorry she couldn't just pick one. Keefe asked her why she had to pick one. After all, he loved both Sophie and Fitz, and he didn't ever want to choose, because he didn't have anyone he loved more. He just loved them both. Fitz had agreed. He asked how this would work, the three of them all loving each other.

That's the great thing about us, Keefe had said. We don't have rules. We can just fall in love, hope our love will endure even if we mess it up the first time, and make it up as we go along. We're in love, and that's all that matters.

And he very distinctly does not feel love right now, wearing an ugly suit instead of the long red dress Biana bought with him. His father looks proud of him, or at least not disappointed, but he's learned that love is so much more than that by now, and his father may never truly love him. But that's another mess that he doesn't want to get into now; first, he simply has to survive the night.

Then, the argument that will inevitably come after.

But first, the dance. He's already fought with his father for hours about whether or not he had to get a matchmaking list, but he eventually lost. Like Cassius said, he'd already disappointed the family enough; by being a screwup, a rebel, a wayward, an artist. Does he really want to push things even farther, drag their reputation even farther down, by being a bad match? He gave in after that, still fully intending to barely learn the names of the girls on his list.

He just wants this night to be over already.

But no, another girl is coming over, and he has to at least feign interest as he mumbles pleasantries. He does this again and again. Some part of him, a small part that still foolishly believes his father might love him if he makes him proud, wants to feel something for these girls, but... he can't. They aren't Sophie. They aren't Fitz. He isn't interested.

The most interesting thing that happens the entire dance is Stina coming over and asking if he knows whether Marella might be interested in her. The answer is yes, but that's the only two minute conversation he can even begin to care about during a three hour dance, and oh, he is so bored. His only break from dancing and talking to girls is when he gets to eat. Keefe finds himself staring at some of the pastries in the corner and thinking of the time Fitz tried to teach him to bake. He was horrible at it, but Fitz thought it was funny, and they had a lot of fun together... he sighs and goes back to dancing with another nameless girl who isn't Sophie or Fitz.

He knows, that if an Empath were to gauge his emotions, they would feel the extreme feeling of love that's always inside everyone, he knows that logically, but feels so void of it right now. Everything is so boring, painfully dull, and there are so many people he doesn't care about, and he just wants to curl up and watch human movies with Sophie, or try to taste the batter as Fitz swats his hand away, or ramble to both of them about his latest painting.

He just wants them, both of them.

Finally- finally it's over, everyone's leaving, he thanks them for coming even though he wishes they hadn't, and then they're gone, and he can't change out of this ugly, uncomfortable suit fast enough, collapse on his bed and hail Sophie and Fitz.

Before he can, he hears a knock on the door. "Go away!" he calls, not in the mood to interact with his father. Especially not to discuss which of the girls he liked best. The door swings open anyway, and he groans.

Exactly as he predicted, Lord Cassius sits on a chair beside Keefe's bed and asks "So, did any of the girls there capture your fancy?"

He groans again. "No. You know they didn't."

"Of course they didn't," he mutters, sighing and rubbing at his temples. Keefe bites his tongue in an attempt not to yell I do have people that 'capture my fancy,' it's not my fault you can't accept that. "We can apply to get you a second list in a month, but I don't want you choosing anyone from a list that isn't your first or second."

"That works out. I don't want to choose from a list that isn't my first or second. I also don't want to choose from a list that is my first or second. I don't want to choose from a list." Keefe immediately regrets blurting that out, but it was nothing his father didn't know already anyway. The problem is that now he's confronting it, instead of saying he'll be the obedient son his father wants and marry someone he'll be miserable with.

"Well, you're going to have to."

"Why?" Keefe demands. "Why do I have to follow this fucked up system?" He sees his father frown at the language, but can't be bothered to care. "Why can someone else decide who I'm allowed to love- they don't know what I feel. Why do I have to marry someone from a list? Why can't I just marry the people I love?"

His father's gaze darkens. "People?"

Oh, shit. Keefe has screwed up. He has two options- correct himself, which his father probably won't believe, or dig a deeper hole for himself, jump off a cliff and hope he doesn't get hurt too badly. He chooses the latter. "Yeah, people. Sophie and Keefe."

"You can't be in love with both of them."

"Yeah, but I am."

"And not only are they both nearly as stupidly rebellious as you are, one of them is a boy. It's like you're trying to disgrace this family as much as possible."

"Well, it may shock you to learn, but I'm in love with these people because... because I love them. It has nothing to do with wanting to disappoint you and everything to do with wanting to date them."

His father stands up abruptly, towering over Keefe. "You have to choose."

"Great. I choose them both," he replies, standing up as well.

"You can't love more than one person!" yells Cassius.

Keefe clenches his hands into fists, feeling his throat close up. "Why not?" he chokes.

"You just- it's wrong. It's wrong for a boy to love a boy, and it's wrong to love two people! You're being greedy. Choose one, because you can't love them both."

"Fucking watch me!" Keefe screams. "You're an Empath- you understand how love feels to other people. I can sense so much love inside of people, every time I touch them, so much that it's overwhelming- especially if love is the prominent emotion they're feeling at the moment. There's more love than our brains can possibly comprehend. Love stretches to infinity, it is everywhere, it is everything, and we don't have a limit to our capacity for love, because there can be no limits to love, none at all. I love so much and so deeply that it can feel like I could drown in my love for them, both of them. My love is endless and overwhelming and beautiful, and I love them both with all the love in me. It's as simple as that."

...

"You can believe whatever you like about love," Lord Cassius says, giving him a cold look. "But if you are to live under my roof, you will have to love like a normal person."

He says it like it's an insult to not love like a normal person, like Keefe doesn't already know. Of course he doesn't love like people normally do, but why is that bad? Really, all forms of love are so unique, and there's no one normal way to love, anyway. But even though his way of loving is more different, that isn't bad. That isn't ugly. It's love, and it's everything, and it's beautiful.

Then, it registers that Keefe cannot love beautifully and live in his house at the same time. There's no way he'd be able to stop loving the way he does; that would be like asking for his heart to stop beating at all. There is so much of his love, and he cannot pretend he feels less.

So... his only other option is to leave.

"Can I pack, at least?" he says finally.

Lord Cassius looks surprised that he hasn't managed to threaten Keefe enough, properly scare him into being the straight, monogamous, obedient son he wants. For a brief second, his shock is written on his face, and then he regains his composure. "Very well, I suppose you can," he says. "You have ten minutes. I want you out."

Good. Keefe wants to be out as well.

He never wants to be back here again.

"I can't wait," he spits out. "You have zero minutes to get out of my room."

The clock is ticking, and Keefe doesn't have time to think, to even being processing the reality of what just happened, so he throws important things into bags as quickly as he can, trying to think only of the next second ahead of him, and the next, and the next, because if he keeps looking directly ahead, full understanding of what this means can't catch up to him, and he can't worry to much about the future. And then ten minutes pass, and he leaves.

He just... leaves.

When he leaps away from his house- his former house, he supposes- he has no idea where he'll reappear. Then he sees the world come into focus around him, immediately recognizing it as Everglen. Where some of his best memories are, of lighting candles with the Vackers and talking about makeup and boys with Biana and falling in love with Fitz, over and over, every time that obnoxiously cute fool opens his mouth. Fitz is here now; Sophie is too.

It wasn't a conscious decision, but he wanted to come here.

His feet take off running until he arrives at the door. He desperately slams his fist against the door over and over until Della comes to open it, a look of concern on her face. "Keefe? What... are you alright?"

"Sophie," Keefe gasps. "Fitz. Please."

Della nods. "They're upstairs in Fitz's room."

"Thank you," he says, before ignoring the aching in his legs and rushing up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, and into Fitz's room.

Sophie notices him first, placing a hand of cards down on the bed and stumbling across the room over to Keefe. "What happened?" she asks, her beautiful eyes wide and scared. Fitz follows her, putting his arm around Keefe and leading him to sit down on the bed between the two of them.

"My dad kicked me out," he chokes out, voice breaking. Sophie immediately gives a little oh and wraps him in a hug. "I didn't know where else to go."

He feels Fitz put a hand on his back, suddenly shaking with sobs. Quietly, Fitz says "We're here."

Finally, Keefe pulls back from the hug. He furiously swipes at his eyes. "I don't know why he can't just understand that we're in love. That I can love two people, because I am capable of loving two people, because love is infinite and there will always be enough for each of you."

"I don't know why he doesn't understand either," Sophie says. "And it's fucking awful that he doesn't."

Fitz nods. "But the two of us understand. We know you love us both. Endlessly. And we love you too."

"Fuck yeah, we do," says Sophie.

Fitz's gaze softens. "I know it hurts right now. It feels like shit. And I'm not going to lie, it will keep hurting for a really long time. Maybe forever. But we're going to be here for you. We're here for you right now, and we'll be here for you when it randomly hits you all over again for the next few days or weeks or months, and we'll be here for you when the pain returns just when you thought it was gone forever, and we'll be here for you when you really do think you're okay again. Sophie and I are going to be here for you for the bad days and the okay days and the days where it feels like it'll never get better, and we'll be here for you for as long as it takes, and we're always going to be here for you."

Keefe is quiet for a long time. He thinks about how there is a deep chasm in him right now, an empty space. He wonders what it would feel like if another Empath felt it. Probably painful. But then he thinks about this hypothetical Empath feeling his emotions, and how much love they would feel. They would understand how much Keefe can love, how he can love them both. Because he loves them both so much. And he says as much; "I love you."

They wrap him into a hug again, and he realizes; he's been kicked out of the place he used to live, but he hasn't been kicked out of a home, because that was never his home. His home is this moment, this hug, these people. His home is the love he feels for them.

All those years ago, when he asked his parents what love was, they gave an answer. Love can be pride, and it can be a feeling that someone is important to your life. It can also be so much more. It can sometimes be ugly, yes, but it can so often be beautiful. Love can feel soft and sweet and warm, it can be kindness. Love can feel bold and thrilling and exciting, it can be an adventure. And love can be right now, on one of your worst days, when they promise to be with you through it all and offer you whatever comfort they can. Love is home, and love is everything. There are no limits to what love can be.

#shai types things #kotlc #keefe sencen #sokeefitz supremecy #reblog as a birthday present perhaps? #shai's writing

[ceylon-writes]

December 10th -Shorter Wong

reader celebrates hanukkah with shorter!

I’m helping thelynxwriter with their Christmas prompts, so visit their blog to view the rest of the prompts. Also I tried my best to research the holiday so forgive me if something seems incorrect.

Warning, tiny bit smut, minuscule even.

When shorter walked through the door, the smell of bread was the last thing he expected to smell. He expected to see his lovely s/o sleeping on the couch or watching tv dutifully waiting for her lover to come home. Instead she was in the kitchen braiding bread while another loaf was baking in the oven.

“Babe? What you making?” Shorter walked over to y/n after taking his shoes off to wrap her in a hug, giving little kisses on her neck.

“I’m making challah” shorter looked confused at this response, “what for?” “Hanukkah of course” shorter knew that his lover was Jewish, but he didn’t know much about the religion, looking around the apartment, he noticed there was more decorations in the apartment beside all the Christmas decorations that were put up at the beginning of the month. One of these decorations was a candle with 7 candles all unlit. Walking over to the candle holder he examined it. “What’s this thing?”

Y/n stopped her braiding to look over at what shorter was talking about, “that’s the menorah, we light the first candle at sunset, I’ll also teach you how to play games with the dredial” shorter bounced up in excitement at the mention of games. He loved playing games with his baby. But right now he realized that his love never told him welcome back or gave him a hello kiss, does she not love him anymore? Is she cheating on him with someone else? But how? She hasn’t left the apartment at all. Shorter stewed in his thoughts, spiraling down slowly at the thought of his baby cheating on him with some pathetic excuse of a human who dare touch his y/n. He had an intense look on his face, one that y/n knew all too well, she has to go over there and give him affection before she ends up stuck giving him affection to sate his raging anger and prevent him from going out and killing some poor guy. Walking over she wrapped her arms around him and gave him little kisses on his face. This pulled shorter out of his mind, but before he could ask one of the many questions he asked before anytime y/n didn’t show him affection in time. She interrupted with a simple question.

“I love you, you know that right?” This threw shorter for a loop, of course he knew she loved him! Who else would she love but him? Only he gets her love no one else. He will kill them if they try to take her love.

Y/n was losing him again. Sighing she started running her fingers thru his purpled colored Mohawk. She kissed him slowly, shorter eventually recouperated the kiss slowly, pulling her closer by her hips, making the kiss deeper. Y/n had to pull away now or she’ll be stuck sucking face with him and nothing will get done. With a gasp of air she pulled away, shorter tried to get her back into the little makeout session but was stopped by a finger held to his lips.

“I love you” shorter had a slight dazed off look in his eyes, so when he heard those words he put on this dopey smile, you could practically see hearts in his eyes as if he looked like he was high off of love from a simple kiss. “I love you too.” He responded.

“You wanna help me finish making the challah?” Shorter nodded his head and followed you to the kitchen.

After an couple of hours of making challah and latkes with some difficulty with a clingy shorter, The food was finished. Y/n wiped the sweat off her forehead with a smile after taking the final batch of challah out the oven. Shorter leaned on the counter happily munching on a latke. After a while of working he started whining that he was hungry. You didn’t want him to eat all the food since you wanted to mail some food to close family members. So you allowed him to have a latke as a snack. The sun has finally set to light the first candle of the menorah. You went over to the menorah and lit the shamash before taking the shamash to light the first candle of hannukah. You said the traditional prayer before turning back to shorter who was still quietly munching on his snack.

“Wanna play the game?” Shorter nodded his head and sat down at the table with a pot full of chocolate coins and a dreidel. You explained the rules of the game to him and asked if he had any questions. “Can we make the game more interesting? Like if one of us wins the loser owes the winner a favor.” You got intrigued at the idea, you nodded your head and asked him what his favor is if you lost.

“I want a baby”

“Shorter no, that’s too expensive.”

“Baby please! We can afford it, plus imagine how cute our child would look with your looks.”

“I said we can have one when we older.”

“That was a year ago, we older now! Just please one night you skip taking the pill and we see what happens. If you don’t get pregnant I’ll stop bothering you about having kids now and wait till we older.” You thought about it a bit. It’s not like you want kids with shorter, you really do desperately, but your logical side says that it’s to expensive to care for a child, plus barely any room in the apartment. And shorter risking his life every night. You felt shorter gently grab your hand, you looked down to notice he was kneeling. “Honey please, I promise I’ll be a good father, we’ll be a perfect lil family. Please grant me this wish just once please.” Shorter was now by you on his knees with your hands clasped In his, puppy dog eyes glance up at you, begging you to take the risk. You sigh and mutter a fine.

Shorter smiled so wide you would have thought his face would split in half, with a loud whoop he picked you up abd spun you around in circles before setting you down, grasping you tightly, he was breathing heavy, from the spinning or the excitement you weren’t sure. But after a few too long minutes of hugging you while mumbling about something he pulled away, the look in his eyes slightly scared you. With the wide grin And the very tousled hair, his eyes showed love, but also some possiveness and insanity. It felt like you signed your freedom away in that moment.

Y’all played the game for a few rounds, and after a grueling last round, the tie was broken and shorter was the winner.

After an eventful night, you handed shorter a positive pregnancy test a month later.

#yandere #yandere!shorter #thelynxwriter25daysofchristmas #slight smut #banana fish shorter x reader #banana fish shorter #banana fish x reader #banana fish #shorter wong

[mst3kproject]

Magic Christmas Tree

I thought I’d try something different this year and find a bad Hannukah movie, but everybody I asked had the same recommendation: Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights.  I know for a fact that is a prohibitively awful film, because I know people who’ve watched parts of it (I have not to date met anyone who could sit through the whole thing), but it just doesn’t feel like an MST3K feature to me.  Anyway, I have standards.  My conclusion is that people need to make more Hannukah movies… and until that happens, I’m watching Magic Christmas Tree, which comes specially recommended by RiffTrax.

This is the only Christmas movie I’ve ever seen which starts with cheerful holiday music over footage of… Hallowe’en decorations. Obnoxious bully Mark and his two pushover friends decide to go investigate a supposedly-haunted house. Naturally the old lady who lives there is a witch, and in exchange for Mark rescuing her cat, she gives him a seed for a magical tree that will grant him three wishes.  Two months later, with the tree fully grown, his first wish is to have magical powers for one hour – he uses them to torment unfortunate people who were already having to work on Christmas Eve.  His second wish is to kidnap Santa Claus and extort unlimited presents from him, but that attracts the attention of the spirit of Greed, who intends to keep Mark as a slave forever!  Good thing he’s still got that third wish.

God, I hate this movie.  I’d say it’s the worst Christmas movie I’ve ever seen, but Elves exists, so instead I have to say it’s the worst Christmas movie that didn’t have any Nazis in it.  It reminds me more than anything else of Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow, in that it’s an absolute mess that seems to have been put together by people who have no idea what they’re doing.  It spends most of its time on boring, annoying irrelevant bullshit, and then when it gets to the plot, that’s boring and annoying, too!

Magic Christmas Tree is only an hour long, but that’s twice as long as it needed to be.  A plot summary makes it sound like most of the film will be dealing with Mark’s three wishes and how he uses them, but it’s half-over before we even get to that point.  The time leading up to it is spent watching Mark follow the witch’s complicated instructions on how to grow and activate the tree, and his parents dealing with this unwanted thing appearing in the middle of their back yard.  All of this is presented in excruciating detail.  We watch Mark dig the entire hole to plant the seed in.  We see his Dad struggle with the lawnmower at unbelievable length, while the Mom yacks about nothing on the phone with her friend Betty.  The Dad tries to cut the tree down with no success.  Mark has to say a set of magic words over and over and over.

It goes on so long, it passes the are you fucking kidding me? point and wanders into territory where you wonder if there’s something wrong with the disk and you’re playing the scene over and over.  It actually starts to feel like it’s on purpose – especially when the slowness is repeatedly emphasized by shots of Mark’s pet tortoise, Ichabod, who seems to be eating his patch of clover far faster than anybody else is accomplishing anything.  You’ll swear the movie is making fun of you.

The sound that accompanies all this is sometimes very peculiar.  The old lady has exactly the voice you’d expect from a witch in a cheap kid’s movie, but Mark’s Mom sounds like she’s being dubbed by a twelve-year-old boy, possibly the same one who provided the voice for Mark himself.  The tree speaks (oh, yes, it does) in the voice of a smarmy stereotypical gay man.  Santa Claus sounds like he’s half-senile and wondering what’s for lunch.

The lawnmower makes some very strange noises indeed. I guess they’re meant to be cartoonish and funny.  They’re definitely the former but they’re never the latter, possibly because they never sound remotely like a lawnmower.  When Mark’s Dad is trying to get it started it sounds like the ghost of a consumptive horse, and three hours later when it actually gets going, it makes noises like a traffic jam in Whoville.

Besides sounding weird, the actors are just plain bad.  The guy playing Santa Claus is half-asleep.  We’re told that the tree’s magic means he’s trapped in the chair he’s sitting in, and I honestly do believe that actor could not have gotten up if he tried, no wishes necessary.  The woman playing Mark’s Mom looks like she’s high as a kite and only barely keeping her grip on reality.  Maybe that’s why they had to dub her.  Mark’s Dad recites his lines like a guy on a game show reading his own life story off a teleprompter, and does his yard chores in a way that’s probably supposed to be pantomimey but is the opposite of entertaining.  The Dad gets an inordinate amount of screen time, which I can only chalk up to the fact that he’s played by director Dick Parish.

The worst of the lot are, of course, the kids, who are predictably terrible 60’s child actors.  They yell all their lines, with the volume and exaggerated emphasis you expect from a school play.  It wears thin very, very quickly.  The kid playing Mark is the worst of the lot, although I might just think that because he’s the one we spend the most time with.  He’s a huge part of why this movie makes me so mad.

I think the best way to describe Mark as a character is to say that the first time I watched this movie I assumed his name was ‘Billy’, despite the fact that everybody kept calling him ‘Mark’. He just seems like the type of nasty little brat who’d be named ‘Billy’ in a bad 60’s Christmas movie.  We meet him having lunch with his two friends by the playground, and learn that he’s a greedy little shit when he drives a hard bargain in a sandwich trade.  Greedy-little-shit-itude continues to be his primary character trait and is, of course, the core of the movie’s lesson.  His attempt to monopolize Santa Claus makes him such a greedy little shit that Greed himself takes an interest in him.

Greed is a huge hairy man who takes delight in kidnapping little boys.  I think he’s supposed to look like a fairy tale giant.  Watching him manhandle a child is an intensely uncomfortable experience.

I guess ‘don’t be greedy’ is a standard message for a children’s movie, and it seems like a particularly appropriate one for Christmas, which presents children with a great opportunity for avarice. What seems a little odd is that Mark never actually suffers any consequences for his selfishness, only the vague threat of them. There was a perfect opportunity for some of this when Mark kidnaps Santa Claus.  Santa, after all, brings toys to good girls and boys… surely by this point, after his brief reign of terror with his magical powers, Mark has been naughty enough to deserve only coal.  Apparently that’s not how it works, though.  Mark just wanders off into the woods in search of small animals to shoot with his new rifle, runs into the giant, and immediately repents even though Greed is offering him all the toys and candy he wants.

What supposedly prompts Mark to become a better person is seeing how the world has responded to Santa Claus going missing.  Curiously, there is very little emphasis on the children who are sad because they didn’t get any presents.  Maybe somebody thought that would have made them seem greedy? Instead, the vision Greed presents to Mark is of the United States military mobilizing to locate Santa and bring him home, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians-style!  So… I guess Mark becomes a better person because he’s afraid of what’s going to happen if the army finds Santa trapped in a chair in his house?  I guess that is pretty terrifying.

Another thing that blunts the lesson is the fact that Mark is given his three wishes as a reward for a good deed.  He got the witch’s cat down from the tree, so she offers him the magical seed and doesn’t let him refuse.  What then was he supposed to use his three wishes for, if not to get stuff for himself? Was this intentionally a poisoned gift, because you shouldn’t accept things from witches?  The witch insists that there are good witches as well as wicked ones, but she’s not exactly an unbiased source.  The movie never tries to blame her, though.  The situation is presented as Mark’s fault, and Mark’s alone.

Finally, at the end Mark wakes up and finds that of course the whole thing was a dream – there was no witch, no magic tree, and no Santa Claus.  This is less annoying than it could have been because at least it’s not a surprise. Mark did hit his head when he fell out of the tree the cat was in, and the movie changed from black and white to colour.  We’ve seen this before in The Wizard of Oz and we can guess where it’s going. The audience might assume that Mark will wake up and immediately take the opportunity to be generous instead of greedy, perhaps by giving his friend something to make up for the lunch trade. Instead, the woman who owns the cat (who is not actually a witch, but looks even more like one in this part of the film than she does wearing the Hallowe’en witch costume in Mark’s dream) offers him milk and cookies, and he delightedly accepts.  This just gives the impression that he’s learned nothing.

Is there anything in this movie I didn’t hate?  Well… among Mark’s school friends is a token black kid, who is not differentiated in any way from his peers.  He talks like them, he dresses like them, and the writers did not use either his lunch or his Hallowe’en plans as a way to demarcate a class difference between him and the others.  So yeah, the movie sucks, but the writers tried really hard not to be racist.

Happy fucking holidays.  I want to say hooray for surviving 2020, but we’ve still got a week to go.  That’s plenty of time for oh, I don’t know, an alien invasion, or a giant meteor, or the Yellowstone supervolcano, or zombies, or whatever.  At this point, if most of us aren’t dead by this time next year, I’ll count that as a win.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #magic christmas tree #fuck this movie #holiday reviews #60s

[confused-android]

Day 13, Todd - Family

----------------

Amanda: hey, what time are you showing up at mom and dad's on tuesday? (7:02PM)

Todd: For what? Why would I go to their house? (7:05PM)

Amanda: …for hannukah? they sent out the invite three weeks ago, asshole. check your fucking email (7:10PM)

Todd switches apps on his phone and opens his Gmail account. The only things in his inbox are bills and spam. He looks in his spam folder, and even checks his agency account, just in case they had, for some reason, found that email address and sent him an email there.

Nothing.

He searches both accounts for his mom's email address, and finds only the last email she'd sent him, before all of this shit went down. Before he'd told Amanda the truth, and she'd told their parents. Before he was on the FBI's Most Wanted list for almost three months. Before they opened the agency.

From: Debora Brotzman <[email protected]> Date: 4/8/16 2:14 PM To: Todd Brotzman <[email protected]> Subject: Visiting Mandy?

Hey sweetie, it's MOM. Mandy said she's feeling better this week – are you going to visit her? Call me when you get there, if you can!  :-) Dad found a place to give him an interview, even with his knee, so send him some love and prayers! :-) I miss you, you're doing great.

Love, MOM <3 (Mandy says this is a heart, but in case you can't tell, imagine I put a heart there!)

He hadn't called her on that visit – all of his attention was taken up by Dirk, and it felt weirdly vulnerable to call his mother in front of some weird stranger. After that visit to Amanda, he'd been a little too busy to call her during the Patrick Spring case, and then he was afraid calling her would be trackable, and would bring the FBI down on his and Farah's heads. And since getting back to Seattle… Well, he's tried calling his parents a few times, and sent them an email over the high holidays, but they haven't responded.

He knows why, but it's just been easier to pretend that they were busy, to let Amanda send him occasional messages when she visited home, to imagine that they just… hadn't gotten around to responding to his lengthy apology email.

That strategy doesn't seem to be possible, here.

Todd: No email. (7:43PM)

Amanda: you sure? (7:44PM)

Todd: Yeah. (7:46PM)

Amanda doesn't respond and Todd slumps back into the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. This was… this was utterly predictable. He knew this was coming as far back as Amanda's first Pararibulitis attack, and this is what he knew would happen if they ever found out, and he can't pretend that they're just busy any more. He hasn't been invited home for the family Hanukkah celebration. He's not family any more.

This is the natural consequences of his actions, and he isn't even sure if he deserves to feel miserable.

Fuck.

Why does this suck so much? It's not like he was close with them, anyway. Not for a lack of effort on his parents' behalf, of course. That last email from his mom is typical. Just that it's hard to want to spend time with people you hurt, you're hurting, even if they don't know it. He kept hanging with Amanda because she needed him, and he needed to keep trying to make up for how shitty he was, but there was no way that he could ever save up enough to pay his parents back for years of – of stealing from and lying to them. So spending time with them, talking to them beyond occasional five minute phone call and a yearly awkward hanukkah gathering, never really happened.

Does this even matter? Should it matter?

Of course it matters. It's a punishment from his parents, for being awful to them. He's supposed to feel like shit.

Well, that's successful, then.

Dirk and Farah are out at some kind of trivia night thing, and Todd is honestly kind of relieved. He's not sure if he can handle them right now. Not in a bad way. Just that, Farah wants to be comforting but isn't ever really sure how, and Dirk is sure that he knows how to be comforting but rarely succeeds, and Todd always has to pretend that he feels very comforted by whichever of them has drawn the short straw to hang out with him when he's miserable, and he doesn't really feel like pretending right now.

His phone dings.

Amanda: i texted mom. (8:12PM)

Todd: …? (8:14PM)

Amanda: she said it wasn't an accident (8:20PM)

Todd: I figured *shrug emoji* (8:22PM)

Amanda: i feel kind of weird about this, tbh? (8:24PM)

Amanda: like, i'm still pissed at you, but you know that, and we're working on it (8:24PM)

Amanda: and i told mom that and she said that you emailed her for yk and apologized and that she didn't respond (8:24PM)

Amanda: and that sounds shitty of her? (8:25PM)

Amanda: but also you were shitty (8:26PM)

Amanda: like, really shitty (8:26PM)

Todd: I know that. I was shitty. And she doesn't have to respond to me. (8:27PM)

Amanda: it just feels weird bc she's our mom (8:31PM)

Todd: Yeah. (8:32PM)

Todd: I'm… having some feelings about it. (8:32PM)

Amanda: well i guess i'm proud of you for having feelings? idk (8:33PM)

Amanda: do you want me to not go? (8:37PM)

Todd: No! (8:37PM)

Todd: No, no. Go spend Hanukkah with mom and dad. I'm bummed, but I'll be fine.  (8:37PM)

Todd: I'll try emailing them again next Yom Kippur, I guess. That always seemed to mean something to dad. (8:39PM)

Amanda: that could work (8:40PM)

Amanda: idk (8:40PM)

Todd: I don't know either, if it helps. This sucks, but I knew it was coming, I guess. (8:42PM)

Amanda: :/  (8:45PM)

Todd: :/ (8:46PM)

Todd drops his phone on the coffee table and stands up, shoves his hands through his hair, and sits right back down. Then he stands up again, because while he has no idea what to do with himself, he at least wants to not know what to do somewhere other than the couch. He looks in the fridge without taking anything out of it, contemplates and rejects the idea of a shower, and then grabs the pipe and lighter from his dresser and climbs out the kitchen window and on to the fire escape. He leans up against the side of the building and shivers as a gust of December air hits his neck and seeps in through the fabric of his hoodie.

"Fuck," he says, voice lost in the night, and cups the bowl in one hand and lights it with the other. He takes a long inhale. The smoke floods his lungs and he tops it off with clean, cold air, then holds the breath for a beat before exhaling. He lets the smoke drift away and sits with the scent lingering in his nose before taking a second hit, and then a third. He taps the ash out through the grate next to him, shoves the pipe and lighter back into his hoodie pocket, and thumps his head back against the brick.

It's hard to not feel like a complete piece of shit when your parents have disowned you. Like, the people who are supposed to love and care for you no matter what just don't want to see you for the holidays? That's pretty bad.

He knows that it's not like he doesn't deserve it – he did a horrible thing. Like, a really horrible thing. The kind of thing that gets you disowned by your parents. But it… it really sucks. This whole situation sucks. And it's a situation he made, which means that he sucks.

It's cold outside. Not quite freezing, but not that far above it, either, and his hoodie isn't quite cutting it. He doesn't go inside, though. If he goes inside, he'll check his phone and reread the conversation with Amanda, and have to start thinking about it all over again. So he just stays on the fire escape, buries his chin in the collar of his hoodie, and tries to think about anything other than his parents choosing to ignore him, and not see him for the holidays.

"Fuck," he says again. And that seems to sum it up.

Todd loses track of how long he spends on the fire escape, but it's long enough that he's not really cold any more, just trembling slightly, when the door to the apartment bangs closed.

"Shit," Dirk swears, his voice drifting through the window. "It's bloody freezing in here."

"The window's open," Farah adds, baffled, and then says, "Todd?"

"Todd!" Dirk echoes, his voice a little louder than hers.

"I'm out –" Todd coughs, then tries again. "I'm out here! Sorry!"

He can hear some bustling and movement from inside, and then a long leg sticks through the open window and taps around, looking for the floor, and is then quickly followed by a body. Dirk steps out of the way for Farah, who is altogether more graceful when exiting the building, and they both look down at him, separate expression of confusion on their faces.

"Why are you out here?" Dirk asks bluntly.

Farah shakes her head and puts on hand on Dirk's shoulder, asks, "how long have you been out here?"

Todd shrugs. "Maybe since nine? I'm not sure. What time is it?"

"It's almost ten," Farah says, and crouches down in front of him. "What the hell, Todd?"

"I'm sorry," he says, too tired to really get riled up, or even defensive. "I didn't know what time it was. I left my phone inside."

"Will you, um. Come inside now?" Farah tries, and looks up at Dirk for back-up. Dirk has a funny expression on his face, though, and steps around both of them. He sinks to the floor next to Todd and wiggles up close, until they're pressed together at the shoulder and hip. "Dirk!" Farah exclaims.

"Come on," Dirk says, and gestures to the floor on the other side of Todd. She opens her mouth like she's going to object again, but then something on Todd's face, or on Dirk's face, seems to speak to her, and she scoots back a bit and tips off her heels and down to sitting. Farah holds still for a long moment, steeling herself with a deep breath, then presses against Todd's other side. The brick at his back and the metal grate under his ass are still cold, but his two best friends are warm on either side of him. For a moment, at least, he feels like he has family.

------------------

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth day two, Farah - Dance day three, Farah - Gore day four, Farah - GNC fashion day five, Farah - AU day six, Farah - Family (to be written) day seven, Farah - Pride (to be written) day eight, Todd - Youth (to be written) day nine, Todd - Dance (to be written) day ten, Todd - Gore day eleven, Todd - GNC Fashion day twelve, Todd - AU

prompt list

#dghda #dirk gently #DGHDAtober #todd brotzman #family #marijuana use #sad Todd #h/c? i guess? #sorry todd #but you definitely did this to yourself #fanfiction #my fic

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter 11

Summary: The Inner Circle rings in the New Year. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: brief mention of (implied) self-harm scars, themes of depression Bittersweet Masterlist

“I fucking hate the holidays,” was Emerie’s greeting to Nesta a couple days after Christmas.

Nesta glanced up from the drinkware she was cleaning to watch Emerie hang her jacket on the hanger in a huff. Her raven hair was pulled back in a loose braid, her eyes lined thickly with kohl and mascara. Nesta couldn’t help but smirk with amusement. “I take it seeing the family didn’t go well?”

Emerie snapped her head to glare into Nesta’s eyes. “They spent all of Hannukah lecturing me about doing something else with my life, something more respectable than 'slinging drinks around a dirty bar,’” she recalled with air quotes, her lip curled in disgust.  

Nesta dried the last glass. She threw the towel on the counter and turned to face her coworker. Crossing her arms, Nesta inquired, “And your response was?”

“I threatened to go into sex work.”

Nesta quirked a brow. “I thought you already worked at Euphoria on the weekends. If I recall correctly, you invited me to watch one of your performances.”

“Yes, Nesta, I'm aware that I'm already a stripper. That's the beauty of it. I threaten to join an even more unconventional line of work so they will accept my moderately unconventional job. They would much rather I bartend than strip.”

Nesta snorted. “I can’t argue with that logic.”

Before Emerie could try to convince Nesta to visit her at Euphoria again, Helion swooped in from behind them. He planted a loud kiss on Emerie's cheek. She feigned disgust, wiping the spot where his lips had been. Turning to him, Emerie smacked his chest playfully.

"Hello to you, too. You look ravishing," Helion wiggled his eyebrows with a wolfish grin.

Emerie rolled her eyes. "I'm immune to your charm, Helion. You should know that by now."

Helion gave her a questionable look that said, You sure about that?

He then turned his attention to Nesta with a grin and took a step forward - most likely to try to kiss her cheek as well - but he was quickly met with a death glare. He did this every time he came into work, and Nesta always rejected his affection. She had to admit he had balls for not giving it up.

Then again, he was a certifiable slut.

Helion's hands were raised in surrender when he turned to address both of them.

“I see you ladies are falling behind," he said, nodding his head to the current score of their little competition. Helion had titled the game, "Who's Got the Biggest Tip?" with an obscene drawing next to it.

Nesta looked behind her at the chalkboard. She was in last place.

The tip competition hadn’t even crossed Nesta’s mind. What with college, Tomas, and family, she wasn’t quite prioritizing the opportunity to man the music at Rita’s. Free booze on the other hand... that she could get with.

“Hey, I’m not that far behind you!” Emerie protested. “It’s Nesta who’s lagging behind.”

They both turned to her. Nesta merely stood there as they inspected her, Helion rubbing his chin in contemplation while Emerie tilted her head as if she would see something different horizontally.

“I’m not entirely surprised,” quipped Helion. “I mean, she’s gorgeous, but if looks could kill…”

Emerie hummed in agreement. She gestured to Nesta’s chest. “The uniform does wonders for her tits. It’s just once you get to the face. The hair can be let down, maybe pinch some color on her cheeks.”

Nesta continued to give them a blank stare. She was highly unamused.

“Don’t forget the smile,” Helion chimed in.

“How could I forget? Gods, her resting bitch face is even worse than mine.”

"There's potential, though."

"Undoubtedly."

Before the mischievous duo decided to go all "Miss Congeniality" on her, Nesta interrupted their daydream. “Are you guys done?”

Her question brought them back to reality. Helion sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Time to make some tips."

With that, the three of them got to work. Throughout the night, Nesta found herself trying to smile more. At customers, at Emerie and Helion. But every time she managed to pull her lips up, an invisible weight seemed to drag them back down to a deep frown.

Smiling had never been so hard.

They were celebrating New Year’s Eve at Feyre and Rhysand’s place. Nesta hadn’t been looking forward to it considering they had all just gotten together on Christmas Day. Seeing her sister’s asshole of a boyfriend and her infuriating neighbor biweekly was enough for her, thank you very much.

The night was uneventful. Elain had volunteered to be the designated driver, so Nesta took the opportunity to have more than just a couple drinks. By the time the clock struck 11:30, Nesta was far gone. She rarely ever got drunk in social situations, instead choosing to get fucked up in the comfort of her own home. The last thing she wanted was to lose control and do something she would regret the next morning.

But all those worries were thrown out the window the minute she had her first sip of liquor.

Nesta hated the phenomenon of New Year’s resolutions. She hated the idea of self-reflection, of changing, of setting a personal goal. It was bullshit. She felt this obligation to be better. To change into an entirely different person, someone sensitive and warm and outgoing. In other words, someone - anyone - except for herself. It was suffocating.

So as Nesta downed drink after drink, she watched the people around her – she doesn’t quite consider them friends, save for Amren – waiting for the new year to begin. Particularly Elain and Azriel.

Since Elain confessed her feelings for Azriel to Nesta – though some may say Nesta forced Elain to spill the beans – Nesta had been watching them like a hawk. Elain hadn’t yet been in a relationship, at least to Nesta’s knowledge. Perhaps that was why Nesta felt so protective over her sister. That, or because she was the most gentle person Nesta knew.

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel. Their conversations had been scarce. All she really knew was what Elain told her. He had grown up across the street from Cassian and Rhysand, and the three of them had been thick as thieves since childhood. While Rhysand attended Pryth U and Cassian joined the Marines, Azriel stayed home after graduating high school to take care of their mother, much like Elain with their father. But their mother died just a few months after the three boys graduated. After working a couple minimum wage jobs, Azriel founded a local animal shelter a couple years ago with his friend and since then, his entire life had been dedicated to it.

From what Nesta could tell, Azriel seemed like a good man. But she could tell he still struggled with things from the past. And it wasn’t just the scars on his hands that gave it away. Feyre had briefly mentioned to Nesta that Azriel had gotten in trouble with the law many times in his younger years. Although Feyre didn't elaborate on his wrongdoings, Nesta couldn't help but imagine the worst.

Nesta would be lying if she said she didn't see similarities between herself and Azriel. The scars, the haunted looks, the guarded demeanor. And because she knew that there was no way she could possibly be in a healthy, functioning relationship, she had a feeling that Azriel couldn't either. It was painfully clear that he hadn’t yet dealt with whatever trauma he’d experienced. If he were to get into a relationship with Elain, it would only end in heartbreak for her.

Nesta watched from the kitchen table as Elain and Azriel played the Wii. Nesta could tell just by Elain’s body language that she was smitten. Her entire body leaned towards his when they sat next to each other to take a break from their “bowling” competition. And while Azriel engaged with her, Nesta noticed the hesitance in his expression, the way he shied away when Elain got too close. Almost like it was a reflex.

Nesta's hand twitched. She wanted to interfere.

It’s Elain’s life, Nesta reminded herself. As much as you worry, she has to be the one to make her own decisions.

With that uneasy thought, Nesta relaxed back into the kitchen chair she was sitting on and took a large gulp from the mixed drink she held. Everyone was mingling in the living room as Nesta watched from the breakfast bar. All their backs were facing her, offering her the slightest bit of solace knowing that no one was paying attention to her.

She hadn't seen much of Cassian tonight. They both seemed to be holding themselves to their agreement to distance themselves from one another. He seemed perfectly content to stay out of Nesta's way, and Nesta felt the same. She just couldn't help but be surprised he hadn't tried to get a rise out of her.

At least, not yet. There was always time.

Nesta loathed the way Cassian was able to get under her skin, hated the way he made her feel. She didn't understand it. He was virtually a stranger and yet he made her blood boil. And all because he found it entertaining to watch her lose control? Gods, he was twisted.

As the thirty-second countdown began, the couples paired off. Mor grabbed Aurra until nothing separated them. Feyre leaned against the wall and Rhysand rested his hands above her head. That only left Azriel, Elain, Nesta, Cassian, and Amren.

Cassian and Amren remained seated on the couch that was directly in front of Nesta. Amren was whispering to him, no doubt making fun of every couple in the room. They laughed together. Then of course, Azriel turned to Elain with a shy smile.

And that left Nesta sitting alone at the bar, her drink half empty. Her glazed over eyes followed Elain and Azriel.

Ten.

They looked at each other.

Nine.

Azriel took a couple steps closer.

Seven.

Azriel dipped his head to Elain’s ear and whispered something.

Five.

Elain blushed. She looked up at him and nodded with a smile.

Three.

Azriel gripped her waist with one hand and pulled her in.

Two.

Elain melted into his touch.

One.

They stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

Zero.

Azriel pressed a soft kiss on Elain’s cheek. She closed her eyes as if she were trying to savor it, to hold onto that moment for as long as she could. Azriel’s lips reluctantly left her cheek, only for him to lean his forehead on her temple. Their chests rose and fell heavily, their breath seemingly in sync. They remained like that for a moment, both unwilling to let go of one another. It wasn’t until Rhysand hooted, “Happy New Year,” that Azriel broke away from her and re-entered the present. Eyes wide, all they could do was blink at each other, the air between them palpable with uncertainty and excitement and pain and hope.

Everyone around them was cheering. It was almost too loud for Nesta. Her ears rang.

As everyone around them laughed and yelled, Cassian looked behind his shoulder from where he sat and his eyes met Nesta’s.

They looked at each other for the briefest of seconds before Nesta flipped him off.

Nesta could've sworn Cassian's eyes brightened before he returned the gesture.

---------------------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@sjmships​ @sleeping-and-books​ @sirgwaines​ @books-for-sure​ @blowing-mikey​ @b00kworm​ @wineywitch202​ @drielecarla​ @liquifyme​ @gisellefigue08​ @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter​ @loysydark​ @stardelia​ @sayosdreams​ @maastrash​ @superspiritfestival​ @courtofjurdan​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @thewayshedreamed @booksstorm​ @laylaameer01​ @rainbowcheetah512​

#nessian #elriel #bittersweet #my writing #acotar #acomaf #acosf #fic #fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses

[tessadoesstuff]

Or (אוֹר) - Light (Chapter 1)

Summary:  Eight Jedi lineages celebrate the founding of the Jedi Order and the first temples of the ancient Jed'aii Order in an eight-night celebration inspired by the real-world winter celebration of Hannukah.

Notes:  So! I adapted the holiday pretty heavily and renamed many traditions, rather than just making slight logic alterations as I have in the past. This includes a rename of several things in order to make them fit the new lore of the holiday better. As a result, the footnotes this time will contain a translation of the new name of an item, as well as what that item/tradition was called.

Series on AO3 + Fic on AO3

Zatt leans against the glass window in the side of the ship, watching the stars blur by as the ship traveled through hyperspace. His face is pressed against the cold glass, his head-tresses twitching and pressing against the glass before pulling away. Zatt stifles a yawn as he watches the hypnotic streaking blue lights go by. Zatt is ready for a nap, but he isn’t sure he was ready to sleep yet.

“Zatt?” Katooni calls to him, and Zatt jumps. He hadn’t noticed Katooni come into the room, too tired to hear her or to feel her in the force. “You alright?” She asks him, and Zatt suppresses a yawn.

“Yeah, just I’m just tired.” Zatt responds, and Katooni sits down next to him on the bench.

“Are you alright?” She asks, her tendrils swaying as she tilted her head. Zatt shrugs, gesturing a hand towards the sealed crate that is only kind-of glowing beside the door.

“I don’t know what could possibly be keeping me up at night. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the 300-year-old powerful idol we picked up or the ghost assassins that were also hunting it.” Zatt deadpans at Katooni snorts. Her mouth twists upwards into a grin which dances in her eyes as well.

“Oh yeah, there’s no reason that should freak you out at all.” She shoves him a little, grinning. Zatt elbows her right back, somehow feeling much less tired in her presence than when he had been alone.

“Zatt! Katooni!” Master Bant’s voice echoes through the small ship they’re on. They both exchange guilty looks at that as if they were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Zatt isn’t quite sure why, he’s not aware of anything he’s done wrong, or that Katooni has done wrong either. Still, he feels Master Bant’s force signature approach.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asks, a sly grin on her face. Zatt just raises an eyebrow at her. Zatt projects his confusion back at her. She snorts.

“Of course not!” Katooni adds. Master Bant shakes her head, a grin on her face.

“Come on you two, according to my chrono, it’s sunset on Tython.” She says, and it takes Zatt a moment to remember why she’s bringing that up. He sees the realization grow on Katooni’s face at the same time as it hits him, and a smile breaks out across his face.

“Already? I thought the first night of Zaar’heer[1]

was tangursday.” Katooni comments in surprise.

“Katooni, today is tangursday.” Zatt elbows her playfully. She shoves him back, a grin on his face.

“No.” She responds.

“Zatt’s right.” Master Bant chimes in.

“We were on that planet for six days?” Katooni asks, and Zatt snorts.

“Believe it or not.” Master Bant jokes. “Grab the candles and meet Master Allie and me in the kitchen?” She offers, and both Zatt and Katooni nod. The door closes as Master Bant leaves the room. Katooni flicks her hand, and a box of candles flies across the room to her open palm. Zatt snorts.

“Inappropriate use of the force.” Zatt teases her. She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. As the two of them walk out of the door, Zatt swipes the candles from Katooni. He pulls two candles from inside the box, then passes it back to Katooni. They enter the kitchen as Katooni pulls a pair of candles out as well. Master Bant is there, standing next to the table, which she has pushed to press up against one of the windows on the ship. Master Allie is sitting on a stool beside her.

Resting on the table are two iin’lani.[2] Zatt recognizes his and Master Bant’s, the nine red coral branches reflecting the blue streaks of light from hyperspace. The other one looked to be carved from a pale blue wood. That one must be Katooni and Master Allie’s.

“Here.” Zatt passes the green candles he was holding to Master Bant. She slips one into the branch to the far left, and a second one into the tallest branch in the center. Master Allie takes the two grey candles from Bant. She slips one into the tallest branch on their iin’lani, which is on the farthest left branch for them, and then puts the other one in the slot direct to it’s right.

Master Allie takes the lighter from the table and ignites it, using that to light the candle on the tallest branch on her iin’lani. Then, Master Bant takes the lighter from her and lights the highest candle on theirs. Then Zatt and Katooni each remove the light candles from their respective iin’lani, holding them in their left hand. Master Bant tips her head to Master Allie, who begins reading the familiar recitation.

“This candle we light to represent the Akar Kesh, the Temple of Balance. It was from that balance that all other aspects of the order were born.” She nods at Master Bant, who gestures to Zatt and Katooni before continuing.

“On this first night of Zaar’heer, we light one more candle. We light this candle to represent the Padawan Kesh, the first academy for the first students of the force.” As Master Bant speaks, Zatt and Katooni light the other candles and then return the candles from their hands to the iin’lani. Zatt takes a step back and admires the flickering candles against the blue of hyperspace. As he does so, Master Bant’s hand finds a way into his left, and Katooni’s hand into his right. He squeezes both, holding them close.

Notes:

1 Zaar'heer (zar-here) is a translation of the Hebrew word for remember. This is a rename for the holiday, which is called Hannukah in the real world.

2iin'lani (een-la-ni) is a translation of a lesser-used Yiddish word for tree. In the real world, this object is called the Hannukiah, (not a menorah. The Hannukiah has 9 branches while the menorah only has 7) and one candle for each night is light, on the appropriate night, as well as the main candle which is used to light the others, called the shamash.

#katooni #Katooni & stass allie #stass allie #katooni & zatt #zatt & bant eerin #zatt #bant eerin #star wars #soft wars #star wars clone wars #star wars soft wars #Tessa’s Fanfic #Tessa's Soft Wars #hannukah #space jews

[shmisolo]

For Anyone Looking for Not-Super-Angsty-Stuff

I’m compiling mine (or at least the less-angsty stuff) into one list for ya.  

Seen ✔️✔️ 

His lock screen has three texts from Rey on it:

Rey Wife: Babe I know you’re probably busy right now, but you sent that pic to the wrong chat. Rey Wife: Bennnnnnn Rey Wife: Call me when you’re done processing your trauma.

And then about ninety chats from the Skywalker Ranch WhatsApp thread.

--

In which Ben sends a picture to the wrong chat.

The Sweater Curse

She’s never made a sweater before, but she saw the pattern on Ravelry and who cares if she’s only made (lumpy) hats before—she has to try it.  She has to make it. She has to make it for Ben.

“You realize that Hannukah isn’t an important holiday, right?” Ben asks as she makes eye contact with him.  His eyes are big and brown and—at this moment—mildly annoyed.

“Really?  Is it a giant conspiracy theory?  Part of the war on Christmas?”

“More than you realize,” Ben says and for the life of her she can’t tell if he’s joking.  He does this thing sometimes that’s confusing—where he’ll say something that sounds mopey but is actually snarky and it disarms her every damn time.  “In any event, ugly Hanukkah sweaters definitely aren’t a thing the way ugly Christmas sweaters are.”

“Well, they are now,” Rey says firmly.  “I’m making you an ugly Hanukkah sweater.  Deal with it. And stop moving.”

it's you and me (i know it's our destiny) 

It’s just a kid’s game, he thinks when jealousy pangs in his heart. But it’s more than just a kid’s game.

It’s Pokémon.

It’s the only good thing in his life.

Shalom Rav!

In which Rey comes to terms realizing that she is attracted to the rabbi.

Apples and Honey

When Ben catches wind that his mother is planning to foist a potential girlfriend on him when he comes home for Rosh Hashanah, he takes matters into his own hands: specifically, he runs to Rey and asks her to pretend to be his girlfriend.

atlanta > all atlanta > community > missed connections

In which Rey meets a cosplayer at DragonCon. 

Two to Tango

Rey: I need to ask you something awkward. Ben: What’s up? Rey: Can I give you a blowjob? Please?

Bang for your Buck

“We ready?” he asks her, sounding huffy.

“Nice to meet you Ben, I’m just familiarizing myself with your training,” she replies.

“Ok, well I don’t have all day.”

“No, you have,” she checks her watch, “another hour.” Because of course he’d booked an extra long session. Bless that sweet, sweet overtime pay.

“And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” he asks her and she glances up at him, sure that her eyes are flashing because that’s fucking rude. She’s a professional. Amilyn wouldn’t have hired her if she didn’t know what she’s doing, and just because he apparently thinks he’s the center of the universe doesn’t change that fact.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your bang for your buck,” she tells him icily.

A Picture's Worth

reyjay: hiya your art is amazing

reyjay: it’s a big ask but could you draw me for my art final tomorrow? i’m shit at drawing people and i can’t fail this. can you help?

He stares.

And stares.

And stares.

kyloren: is this some kind of a joke?

reyjay: no?? why??

kyloren: you’re asking me to help you cheat your exam, but you’re not even offering me money?

Forged

There are several reasons that Ben would never have dreamed he’d ever receive this text. The first is that he’d be invited to a Halloween party. The second is that he’d never in his life expected to be in a serious relationship, much less the sort of serious relationship where his partner would suggest matching Halloween costumes. And the last is that he is dating someone who’s show only and they’ve only almost murdered one another twice. Because he’s an A Song of Ice and Fire fan. He hates Game of Thrones.

(Not) Interested

We're bringing Speed Dating back to Space Battles Bonanza! Register online for one of our special Bonanza sessions of 15 three-minute dates so you’ll no longer have to look for love in a galaxy far far away. Choose from one of seven speed dating sessions, two of which are queer focused. If the Insurgents can blow up the Doom Moon in 11 minutes, let’s see if you can make a love connection in only three.

There’s a history of successful Speed Dating at Space Battles Bonanzas, with long-term couples, engagements and marriages now among the alumni.

--

In which Rey & Kylo meet at their fancon's speed dating.

do or do not (do the do)

In which Ben, in an effort to improve his stamina (look he's making progress, ok?) after reading some articles that he'll never be able to unread, receives some coaching (that he very much did not ask for).

(Very much did not ask for.)

A for... 

Rey’s seeing double by the time there’s food on her plate. Oh. There’s food on her plate. That’s good. That’s unexpected at this point. “Eat,” Ben tells her.

So she does. It tastes good. Very good. She likes this food a lot.

“I’ll make sure she knows,” Ben says.

Oh she’s at that point of drunk where she’s just saying things out loud instead of keeping them in her internal monologue.

“You are,” Ben says, looking very amused.

She hopes she doesn’t say anything embarrassing.

“I promise, you haven’t yet, but oh boy, I’m looking forward to this.”

She shoves food into her mouth to keep herself from thinking out loud about his dick in her ass at his mother’s Passover seder.

The Love Committee 

In which Rey, tired of her bad luck with dating apps and failed relationships, enlists her friends' help in determining who she should date next.

They take it a little too seriously.

💦💦💦💦 

In which Ben accidentally implies that he gets his cardio from having sex on national television.

You, Me, and He

When they say that Kylo's brain is in his groin, they're not far from the truth.

Alternatively,

In which Kylo Ren is his own penis.

and beyond 

“Please?”

For a moment, he thinks it will be like the first time, him begging, her crying and saying no and him not knowing how to protect his crushed heart.

But she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t say, “Please don’t go this way,” she doesn’t look horrified or disgusted. She just grabs him by the front of his shirt and tugs his lips down to hers before reaching down to cup his cock.

we decided not to kill the wolves (we wanted to be wolves)

A pack of wolves lives in the woods to the north of Raddus and as winter looms, they have their eyes set on Leia Organa’s stronghold. Rey may be new to Raddus, but she’s not about to do nothing while it may be in danger. And besides, Poe must be exaggerating about wolves the size of bears. She’s not afraid of monsters.

myosotis 

Ben picked the flowers for their wedding.

The Kitchen

Rey and Ben, hunting for their first house.

Investiture 

In which Ben goes to daven for his father’s yahrtzeit and manages to prove to himself once again that he is both a terrible person and a terrible Jew.

Oh and he sort of falls in love.

The Sweetest Thing 

A post-coital trip to Waffle House.

with you i shall play

And when it's dry and ready, then Ben's dick Rey shall play.

Everything to Prove

“The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”

And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.

“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.

“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.

She does her best not to think of that now.

It’s a friendly competition, after all.

It’s not life and death.

It’s baking.

Brightblades 

In which Rey learns about a startling kink of her new boyfriend, and in which, much later, they roleplay it.

The Knotting Shop 

Ben realizes upon entering the shop that he had gotten the complete wrong impression from the name of it.

What the fuck sort of shop calls itself The Knotting Shop if it’s not about, well, knotting?

The answer, apparently, is a knitter with a sense of humor. An Omega, by the scent that seems to have landed in every colorful ball of yarn in the shop and which hits him right in the groin.

Let Go (Never Let Me Go) 

In which Rey swipes right on Ben, 35. Probably too much of an asshole for you, but my therapist is trying to convince me that assholes deserve love too, so here’s me on Tinder, and it does not proceed as she expects.

crossfade (cursed and blessed)

The Talmud states that on Purim one is to drink to the point of not knowing the difference between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai.” In other words, you’re supposed to get so blitzed you can’t tell your friends from your enemies. Rey and Ben might be taking this a little too literally at Leia’s annual Purim Party.

Kind Stranger

Ben stares at the text for a minute before opening up his computer and typing “+7793 area code” into his web search. Jakku. Of course he wouldn’t have recognized it. He confessed himself surprised to know that Jakku even had an area code. Did people still live in Jakku?

#kylothekiller 

It’s not the first time that Rey has seen Kylo pop up in her Fido stream, but it is the first time she’s clicked on him fast enough to be scheduled for a meet and greet with dog and owner on Saturday.

All Bets Are Off 

“Fake girlfriend. What does that even mean?” Ben asks her.

Rey rests a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles underneath his sleeve. “Babe,” she says, leaning close to him. “It means we pretend we’re madly in love. Think you can pull that off for your office pool?” Ben’s eyes flicker softly between each of hers and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic

[wordynerdygurl]

Naughty or Nice?

Author’s Note:  Hey Everyone! It’s me, here with a little holiday drabble for you! This is a short one, so, please enjoy! And to my friends farvand wide, Happy Hannukah, Solstice, Christmas, Kwanza, Festivus and so on! Eat, drink and be merry!! Also, send love! Comments! Reblogs! Questions! All of it!! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Summary: Loki catches you in the kitchen with a very important question… Have you been a good girl this year? Warnings: This is fluffy! Some implied smut but nothing strong. It’s a little sugar cookie for you all!

“Have you been naughty?  Or nice?“

God, had it always sounded so dirty?  When you were nine and the bearded man at the mall asked you this question it didn’t give you tinsel-like tingles, right?  No.  No it didn’t.

Because Santa is wholesome.  He is loving.  He is literally the magic of Christmas and not even a little bit sexy.

Except for when Santa isn’t Santa.  When it’s Loki wearing those red pants with the furry cuffs, patting his knee suggestively, your body temperature doubles.  Suspenders crisscross over Loki’s shoulders, dark hair curling out from under the band of his jingle belled cap, the kind preferred by Santa’s Helpers everywhere.  It rang as Loki lifted his chin your direction, “Well?  Does your name belong on the Good List?  Or… the Naughty one?”

“Loki…"  Uh uh.  Nope.  This game wasn’t safe.  

Again Loki tapped his thighs.  "It’s customary.  You tell me what you want for Christmas and if you’ve behaved well, you earn your holiday wish.  I have the details correct, yes pet?”

Nodding, “Yes… you do.  But…”

“But?”

“I’m not going to do that, Loki.”

Smiling wickedly, “What aren’t you going to do?  Tell me your wish list?”

“Sit on your lap.”

“I see.  Well, then, it’s crystal clear.”

Snapping your head around, “What is?”

Loki’s blue eyes search yours, “Which list your name belongs on…”

You take a step closer to him, his teasing burns you like spicy cinnamon, well past the point of sweetness.   But your fire flared when you caught sight of Loki.  He was grinning at you!  The devious little imp was grinning at you and god help you, it was working.

You couldn’t stop the rolling of your eyes.  It was your only defense.  "Please.  This is so… silly.  Childish.  Beneath you.“

Looking a tiny bit wounded, Santa Loki hummed, "Is it?  Too bad.  I find this outfit quite comfortable.”

You couldn’t say whether he was comfortable or not.  But he did look fine in the cheap red pants, black boots peeking out from under fake furry cuffs, a white v-neck undershirt clinging to his lean chest.  Damn.  He made everything he wore look sinful and this Santa get up was no exception.  

All you manage was a nod in answer. Your body could melt right into the comforting hot cocoa warmth of Loki’s, if you’d allow that.  Which you wouldn’t!  No way.

Peeking under your lashes with a sweeping gaze his way, nope.  Still handsome.  Still standing there.  Still staring at you.

“Dove?"  His voice was snow soft now.  Sugared.  Dare you say it?  Seductive.

You didn’t turn.  You couldn’t.  If you saw Loki now, you’d crumble into his arms, a gingerbread dust pile.  "Yes?”

“You didn’t answer my question.  And I can’t be a proper Santa without checking my list.  Twice!”  Loki raised his two fingers in emphasis and your mouth went dry.  An image of those digits dancing down your body made you shiver.

Whining slightly, “Please Loki… just…”

“Just what?  Tell me what you want.  Do that and who knows, pet?  Maybe you’ll get exactly what you desire this year.”

Loki was close.  Closer than before, which you didn’t think was possible.  You could smell the deep forest pine of his cologne and peppermint cookie on his breath.  Shifting your eyes but not your head, you bit into your bottom lip, shaking your head no.

His arm skated over your waist, not tugging, just resting there.  You dropped the plastic cutlery onto the filmy green tablecloth.  Clutching the edge of the table to steady yourself, turning into Loki’s looming figure, “There’s only one thing I want for Christmas, Loki…"  

Your husky whisper glazes over him like fluffy white frosting, "You.”

Loki captured your mouth in a cinnamon spiked kiss that melted your body into his.  Tangling your tongues like tree tinsel, Loki licked over your punch flavored lips, moaning sweetly.  Skating his hands over your hips, cupping your backside, Loki has your body flush with his own.

“Hmm… is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Grinding closer to you, Loki smirked, “Want a taste?"  

And boy do you ever.  Palming Loki through the rough red of his Santa pants, fingers tracing his length, you feel him twitch under your hand.

"Naughty… definitely naughty, dearest.”

“Yea… but I think that’s how you like me, isn’t Santa?”

“How I love you is naked and begging in our bed.  Remind me kitten, why aren’t we there now?”

Sliding your hand along his black suspenders, taking a minute to caress those wide shoulders, you twist a lock of raven hair in your fingers.  Tugging hard, with a lick at Loki’s neck, you murmur, “Because we’re at The Avengers holiday party and you told everyone we’d bring cookies.”

“I am… an idiot.”

Loki said it with a teasing smile and you nodded, agreeing.  “At times!  But, I meant it Loki… all I want is you.”

Pulling a small black box from behind his back, “Oh… I guess I’ll have to return this then.”

Lifting it just out of your reach, you hopped, hoping to catch Loki’s hand with the tiny package.  “You wouldn’t dare!”

As you reached again, Loki swung you into a deep dipped kiss, his arm curled around your waist for support.  “All I want is to make you happy.”

Tenderly, Santa Loki tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his blue eyes searching yours.  You felt tears come to your eyes, filling them, at the sentiment in Loki’s words.  "You do, Loki.  You do.“

A pleased grin broke across his handsome face as he brought you back up to standing.  For a minute you just stood there in each other’s arms, basking in the quiet moment of your shared feelings, foreheads touching.  It didn’t last long.

The kitchen door pushed open with a swift swing.  "You two!  We’re waiting!  It is time for presents!"  Thor bellowed at you both before rushing back to the crowd.

Loki rolled his eyes.  "Mood ruined.”

Giggling softly, “Nah… not ruined.  You knew we would have to face them all eventually.”

Looking forlornly at the door, “But do we really have to?  We could just sneak out… go home… get naked…"  

Swatting his arm, "Soon.  I promise.  Right now though we need to spread some cheer!”

Loki watched you pick up the tray of cookies you had baked all day.  Straightening his hat, he nodded, “Alright.  Let’s do this…”

Turning at the doorway you pause.  “Oh, and Loki… I meant to tell you.  I forgot to put on panties tonight before we came over.”

His eyes widening, Loki froze for a second, watching you shake your bottom as you left the kitchen.  “Definitely naughty.”

Tagging my faithful followers:  @archy3001

@iamverity

@jamielea81

@jessiejunebug

@brokenthelovely

@nonsensicalobsessions

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@mizfit2

@alexakeyloveloki

@rorybutnotgilmore

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki christmas #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki #marvel christmas #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut

[midnightluck]

Prompt: How about Cora finding out Law’s nerd interests?

“Here,” Roci says, handing Law an envelope.

Law accepts it but eyes it warily. “Thanks,” he says, then sets it aside to go back to his breakfast.

Roci frowns at it. “It’s a present. You’re supposed to open it.”

Law glances up at him, then over at the envelope and back. He sets down his fork and sits back in his chair. “Why?”

Roci puts on his best grin and says, “Why not?”

“It’s not my birthday,” Law says, counting off on his fingers. “It’s not New Year’s or Hannukah or any other gift-giving holiday. There’s been no major accomplishments by either of us recently. It’s not—”

“It’s a present,” Roci says right over his litany. “It’s for you. Because I love you.”

Law shuts up and stares down at the envelope. He pokes it warily. It lies there and does nothing, like a good little envelope should.

Roci leans both his elbows on the table and props his chin between them. “Well?”

Law looks up, catches his eye, and then plants both hands on the table and stands abruptly, then heads towards the entryway. He comes back a second later with Kikoku in his hands.

“No weapons at the breakfast table,” Roci says more out of habit than out of intent, but Law ignores him and draws his blade. He pokes the envelope with it, then uses it to flip the present over. “You’re so paranoid, Law. It isn’t cute, you know.”

“Good,” Law says, and then impales his present on his sword like a complete heathen.

“Rude,” Roci says, but Law’s finally bringing it close to open it so he shuts up and watches.

Law slices one of the short ends off the envelope in one quick strike in a move that’s as casual as it is impressive, and two small pieces of paper flutter out.

They make it all the way to the floor before Kikoku is planted, tip first, several inches deep in the kitchen floor.

“What,” Law says, quiet and calm, “is this?”

Roci forces himself to stay still. “It’s a present,” he repeats.

“Why,” Law repeats, and it’s even less of a question this time around.

“I—thought it would make you happy?” Roci says, blinking. This is not the response he expected. There’s less tears of joy and profusions of gratitude, for one thing.

“You thought tickets to the Supreme Sora, Warrior of the Sea Live Extravaganza would make me happy?” Law says in an inflectionless voice and his grip tightens on his sword’s grip.

“They’re—they’re really good tickets? VIP, backstage and—and everything.”

“What,” and it comes bubbling up from Law’s chest like magma, “have I ever done that makes you think I’d like that?”

Roci stares at him. “You have all the comics,” he says blankly. “You hunted down a few bounties last year so you’d have enough pocket money to buy the annual with the special edition poster. You’ve got the trading cards, and an autographed photo, and the official screen-accurate replica cape—”

“I do not,” Law bursts out. His face is flushing but he lifts his chin. “I don’t have any of that—”

“Did you think the stuff in a box under your bed was hidden?” Roci says, sitting back in his chair. “Law, I clean your room.”

“You weren’t supposed to look!” Law hisses at him, then groans and lets go of Kikoku to hide his face in his hands.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?!”

“It was hidden—”

“Obviously hidden—”

“—you went into my room—”

“You live in my house!”

“—and it said ‘Top Secret’ on it!”

“Yeah,” Roci says, smiling as he recalls the childish scrawl. “It was cute.”

“Coraaaa!”

Law may still use his old undercover name, but these days he’s the only one who does, and Roci smiles. “They’re really good tickets,” he repeats, and Law, face still red, leans down to scoop them up.

They’re the best possible tickets, actually, and Roci spent far too much money and still had to trade a favor to someone he really shouldn’t have to get them, but the way Law clutches them tight, eyes looking everywhere but at him, makes everything worth it.

“…Thanks,” he mumbles, and resheathes Kikoku to hold both tickets carefully and look over the details.

This entire thing has not gone at all the way Roci’d thought it would, but he knows exactly what to do here; he tries to hide his beaming smile and looks away like he hadn’t heard it.

And then Law darts in and ducks under his arm to give him a quick hug, and Roci freezes in place and lets it happen. It doesn’t last more than a second or two, but Law mumbles something that might be affectionate into his side and Roci grins at him when he pulls away.  

Law turns away and retreats to the side of the room, face turned away, and Roci stands to gather up the breakfast plates. “I took that week off,” he says as he dumps things in the sink. “I was thinking we could—”

“Oh, hell no,” Law interrupts. “You’re not coming.”

Roci pauses a second, back still to the room, and then carefully puts the rest of the plates into the sink before he turns around. “What? Why not?”

“Bad enough I’m going to a nerd thing,” Law says, meeting his eyes, “but I’m definitely not going to a nerd thing with my dad, that’s not happening—”

They both freeze for a moment, and then Law turns and flees the kitchen.

“Law!” Roci yells, starting after him and promptly tripping on a chair and crashing into the table. “Law! Wait! Come back! I need to hug you again! Law!”

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote rocinante #this is all justm3h's fault #answer in the form of a story #i need a better asks tag

[tvmoviechristmas]

Christmas Dilemma (TV One, 2020)

I’m gonna sleep with my Mommy and my Daddy who think I’m a superhero!

Starring: BJ Britt, Brittany S. Hall, Rafael Castillo, Carl Anthony Payne II

Plot Synopsis: Newlywed couple Jay and Monica struggle to decide which set of in-laws they should join for their first Christmas. They eventually decide against picking one family over the other. Little do they know, their decision is made for them when their families show up unannounced. Drama unfolds as their in-laws' clash, long-lost relatives decide to make an appearance, and Jay's grandmother joins the holiday festivities accompanied by her caretaker, who just happens to be Jay's gorgeous ex-girlfriend. (x)

In My Humble Opinion: I watched Christmas Dilemma exactly how Christopher Nolan would have wanted me to: at 5 AM on the TV One app. I had to exit out of the movie whenever I wanted to take notes on it, and the app doesn’t have a “Continue Watching” feature so whenever I wanted to get back to the movie, I had to do my best to scroll to the spot where I last was which the app made incredibly hard to accomplish. Christmas Dilemma made me work for my viewing experience. There was blood, there was sweat, there were tears.

Was it worth it? Not really.

Christmas Dilemma is an entry to the popular genre of “the family has come for Christmas and nothing can go right!” It’s a set-up that usually allows for a series of comic hi-jinks that ends with a good talking to and a hug. There are two problems that Christmas Dilemma has that stops this premise from working.

The most vital is that the movie never takes the time to invest you in the central couple’s relationship. For about twenty minutes before their families unexpectedly arrive, the movie is concerned with showing you the couple fighting about where they want to spend their holidays. It’s a series of arguments that are not as funny or charming as the film seems to believe. When the argument finally gets suddenly dropped, it feels like a swerve. We started with one movie about a couple who needs to work on their internal issues, and now all the issues are external. 

The external problems don’t make the central couple more relatable though. Mainly because the biggest problem seems to be the husband’s ex-girlfriend, who is there as his grandmother’s caretaker. She seems to enter every scene with an extended slow-motion sequence and seems to exist only to make the current wife jealous. She gets more jealous and more jealous and more jealous, and when you think that this is going to build somewhere where the wife looks petty and rude and a sincere conversation is going to be had, the movie swerves again. The wife isn’t worried about this ex-girlfriend, she’s actually worried about how their families don’t get along! It was like the writers knew they were entering a moment where the wife was going to go too far to fix this relationship believably in ten minutes time, so they just reversed out of there with a speed that was ultimately dizzying.

The moments where the chemistry of the central couple gets to shine through are so few and far between that you wonder why you want them to stay together. They are randomly fighting about one thing at the beginning of the film, and the movie keeps swerving to new arguments continually as the film goes on. A couple of arguments less, and a few more united front scenes more would have done a world of wonders.

The second more major problem is that the descending family members just aren’t funny. Christmas Dilemma wants you to believe that this Christmas is unbearably chaotic. However, the setpieces never feel excructiating to sit through. Worse, they aren’t funny. Instead, the chaos is limited to giving each character about one scene apiece where they act wacky in a certain way. So Cousin Eddie comes in randomly, his bit is that he is over-friendly, has a random Asian girlfriend and nobody knows him. Grammy has lots of sex tips because nothing is wackier than an old woman who talks about sex. The Reverend character likes to ask for money when he leads prayers. The characters never get to be deeper than gags but the gags they get to be aren’t interesting in and of itself.

Christmas Dilemma feels like a missed opportunity. There’s just a few tweaks that could have been made (changing the warring couple intro, tightening the gags) that would have made all the difference in making the movie more enjoyable. 

However, not all of the problems I had with the movie are it’s fault -- if the TV One app had a “Continue Watching” feature maybe my blood pressure would have lowered, and I would have been less nitpicky. Maybe this is why Christopher Nolan is so against watching movies on your phones.

Watch If: You get really excited about wearing fur, if you can tell who your relatives are by the size of their nostrils or if you love your grandchildren, but you need some milk.

Skip If: You are a woman who does not want to see Hamilton (starring Beyonce, Method Man and Adele!), if you will touch a man’s belly or if you plan to die on Hannukah.

Final Rating: ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

If you like this blog, please consider donating to my Kofi page! You can also donate money to [email protected] through either Venmo or CashApp. Thank you!

#christmas dilemma #2 stars #review #tv one

[hope-meets-despair-imagines]

V3 Boys celebrating hannukah with their s/o?

Hey Anon! I really enjoyed doing this request. A little bit of trivia about M. Junko: I recently learned I was half Jewish, so I’ve really been trying to study Jewish culture and connect with my roots, so writing headcanons about Hanukkah really made my night! Speaking of which, happy second night of Hanukkah!

❤ Mod Junko ❤

NDRV3 Boys celebrating Hanukkah with S/O!

Shuichi Saihara

Truthfully, he doesn’t know too much about Hanukkah. Or winter holidays in general. His aunt and uncle were always too busy to really put on any festivities. But now that he’s able to have a celebration with you, he’s really excited.

He researches everything. From traditional foods, to how to light the Menorah, to WHERE you place the Menorah, to games. He wants this celebration to be perfect.

He’ll help you out with the food and decorating, and whatever else you ask him to do. He’s just happy to be included.

Also will without a doubt get you a gift on all eight nights. Nothing too big since he isn’t made of money, but he isn’t the type to just throw a pair of socks at you and call it good.

All and all Shuichi enjoys himself immensely, and after that week, he declares Hanukkah his new favorite holiday.

Kokichi Ouma

You can bet your ass this will be one hell of a celebration. Somehow, Kokichi did have some Hanukkah knowledge prior to getting together with you, and he’s gonna use it to give you the best week of your life.

He invites all of DICE over on the fifth night to have a huge party. There’s tons of food, tons of gifts, a few people are in the corner screaming at each other for cheating at Dreidel - which is incredible, considering there’s no logical way to cheat at that game - and throwing chocolate coins at each other. And the curtains caught on fire briefly.

Things don’t get too out of hand, though. Kokichi still wants this to be a special night for you, and everything quiets down once it’s time to light the candles. Speaking of which, he is absolutely enamored with you when you say the blessing. He’s in awe at how perfect your Hebrew is.

Doesn’t skimp on presents in the slightest. Happy Hanukkah darling! Here’s a Nintendo Switch!

Kaito Momota

He doesn’t know jack shit about Hanukkah, but that won’t stop him. Truthfully, he can get a little over zealous when it comes to preparing something special for his S/O. He always ends up trying too hard and it becomes a mess, but you can still feel the heart behind it.

First, he got the wrong candle size, so you had to stick tinfoil in the candle holders to make him fit. Then he thought latkes were just flattened hashbrowns (which is fair, but still incorrect), and lastly he didn’t even know what a dreidel was and forgot what Google was, apparently.

But God, he was so excited to be celebrating such a sacred holiday with his favorite person in the world. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he messed up, so you decided to have a talk with him the following year to prepare in advance.

His presents are space related of course, I mean what else would you expect.

Rantaro Amami

Has the second most knowledge of Hanukkah out of everyone, second only to Shinguji. He’s been to Israel a few times, and other places with a higher population of Jewish people, He even participated in a celebration a couple of times.

His idea of a successful Hanukkah celebration is a lot more calm than most of the boys’. Maybe a small gathering on the fifth night, but for the most part, he wants this to be your thing.

Taro does the cooking. The way he makes the jelly-filled donuts is indescribable. He really should consider opening up a restaurant.

If his sisters are around, he’ll invite them over. His family is loaded, so expect the presents to be plentiful. But they all have a sense of humbleness to them. With every gift Rantaro gives you, you can always feel the love and thoughtfulness behind them.

K1-B0

Oh boy, he obsesses the most about it. He’s a robot, so he has access to all sorts of information, including the Festival of Lights.

He can’t eat, but for some reason the food is the thing he’s most concerned about. It’s like if you dislike the taste or texture of anything he’ll take it as a sign from God that he’s failed. He’s just... unique like that.

Kiibo doesn’t know everything, though. He’ll confidently state false information about Hanukkah to your relatives while they try to hide their snickers. It’s actually kind of hilarious.

He probably won’t get you a gift every night, and when he does they’re... weird, but come on, it’s Kiibo, your boyfriend, who loves you unconditionally, you gotta love it.

Gonta Gokuhara

The sweet boy, he’s just so excited to be spending time with you. He’ll want to know everything about the holiday, and I mean everything. Gonta will ask you why you celebrate Hanukkah, what you eat, what you wear. He’s just so fascinated.

He’s not the best cook in the world, but he’s not the worst either. He’ll want you to teach him how to make the traditional meals, if not anything else, then just because he wants to spend as much time with you as possible.

He gets along great with your family when they come over. Granted there’s more somewhat silly questions directed towards them, but it’s blatantly obvious how much he’s enjoying himself.

Like Kokichi, his favorite part is when you light the candles. The pretty candles, the way you recite the blessing so effortlessly, it’s all wonderful to him.

Korekiyo Shinguji

Unsurprisingly, his Hanukkah knowledge is nowhere near limited. If you so desire, he’ll leave most of the preparation to you since, well, it’s YOUR family’s tradition, not his. But if you request his help, Kiyo will do a fantastic job at setting everything up.

He knows exactly what food to make, exactly what blessings need to be recited - hell he probably even has a couple memorized - what kind of Menorah is needed, and basically everything you can think of.

Notably, he acts... a little less strange during the big celebration. Sure, he’s still his usual eccentric self, but you noticed that none of your family members seem to be afraid of him or anything. You could even say he’s being charismatic.

Maybe it’s because he’s trying extra hard to please you, maybe it’s because he’s genuinely enjoying himself. Who knows?

Ryoma Hoshi

This is one of the few times you’ll actually see him invested in something. He sees this is important to you, and the cultural aspects of the holiday are interesting to him, so Ryoma gets off his sorry ass for ten minutes and makes an effort to help you with your week.

Most of his time is spent running errands for you to grab ingredients or decorations, or a new dreidel since your cousin lost it last year. He’s fine with it though, despite having to stop for gas 3 times since you had him running through the entire town, he knows the ending result will be worth it.

On the last night, he even had a genuine smile on his face. He said he felt warm, something he never used to feel.

Ryoma also isn’t the most spontaneous when it comes to money, so his gifts will be fairly small, but he still wanted to get you something you’d like.

#danganronpa imagine #danganronpa v3 imagine #ndrv3 #gender neutral reader #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #kaito momota #rantaro amami #kiibo #gonta gokuhara #korekiyo shinguji #ryoma hoshi

[traya-sutton]

February Blues

I love this concept but like, i think i executed it poorly and wrote choppily and could have added more scenes but im posting it so... yeah. 

Happy hannukah Sam! 

Gift for: @timdrakeothy 

Prompt:  Maybe something with Kon

ao3    masterlist

Kon sneezed. A big, earth-quaking, breaking the sound barrier, Dad-like sneeze. So loud it startled Greta out of the air and actually made Bart look up from his video game.

“Was that a gunshot?” Cassie asked as she walked into the room.

Kon scowled at all of his friends. “It wasn’t that loud.”

“You sound like my Dad, mon.” Anita smirked. “You’d fit right in with him and Uncle Ish.”

“Are you getting sick?” Bart asked curiously.

“Don’t be stupid. I can’t get sick. I’m Kryptonian.”

“Superman doesn’t get sick?” Greta asked.

Everyone turned to Robin who was flipping through a magazine. “What?”

“Well, you know Superman best.”

“You’re his clone.”

“Yeah, and I see him at most once a month. And then it’s just ‘Oh hey, Kon, why don’t you take Parasite over to Iron Gates for me?’ or ‘Hey do you mind helping me out with the Terror Twins? I need to get this deadline done by tonight.’”

Everyone turned back to Robin. Robin just shrugged. “I’ve never seen him get sick.”

“Then clearly, I’m not getting sick either.” Kon snapped. Then he sneezed again. Another giant, sea-parting sneeze.

“You’re sick.” His teammates chorused. Even Slobo, who was so rarely willing to participate in other people’s lives.

Kon stuck his tongue out. “’M not sick!” He grumbled then sat next to Bart on the couch.

Bart scooted away from him. Kon gave his friend a look. “What? I don’t want to get sick!”

“I’m not- Oh whatever.” Kon grumbled. Then, he sneezed a third time. This was going to get annoying.

“Where’s Kon? Wendy’s on. He never misses it.” Cissie said with a frown.

“You in this ep?” Cassie asked, taking the popcorn from Slobo despite his arguments. “It’s for everyone.”

Slobo chewed loudly with his mouth open in her direction.

“Yeah. It’s the one where Skye finds out-”

“Shh! Spoilers!” Greta hissed, settling down next to Bart.

“This is ridiculous, he’s going to miss the episode.” Robin grumbled. “I’m going to get him.”

Robin marched through the hotel until he reached Kon’s room. A SuperboyTM brand S sticker pasted onto the door loudly declared it to be Kon’s domain. And right under was a sticker of Wendy herself.

Robin knocked on the door. “C’mon man, show’s starting in a little.”

No answer.

Robin didn’t want to just walk in. Kon hadn’t come out of his room all day, and usually that meant that he wasn’t to be… disturbed. But this was Wendy, and Cissie was right: Kon never missed an episode. So he knocked again. “Dude, open up.”

Still, all that came to him was silence.

Robin gripped the handle, and slowly, but surely, swung open the door.

At first, Robin thought that Kon himself must not be in the room, and then he saw the bundle of blankets on Kon’s bed rise and fall in a breathing pattern and loud snoring. Robin rolled his eyes behind his mask and walked over to the bed. “Kon, get up.”

What was Kon doing sleeping this late? Usually he was up with the-well, with the sun.

Oh. Oh no way. It couldn’t be. Uh-uh.

Robin narrowed his eyes.

He’d hold off judgment on his screw-ball theory. At least, until it gained more proof.

Robin stalked over to the bed and whipped off the covers. Kon was curled up on the bed in Wonder Woman footie-pajamas. His arms wrapped tightly around a Wendy body pillow.

Robin pushed Kon.

“Kon… Wake up...”

Kon made a nonsense noise and blinked his eyes open blearily. The whites of his irises were bloodshot, his tanned face was bright red, and his nose was running. Robin could hear his congested breathing from four feet away.

“You don’t look so good.”

Kon grumbled something that sounded distinctly like a swearword.

“Shut up and sit still.” Robin responded. He sat down and leaned down to Kon’s forehead to kiss it to check for a fever.

Yep. He’s burning up.

When he pulled back, Kon’s gummed up eyes were as wide as they could go. “What’d you do tha’ for?” He slurred.

“It’s how you check for a fever.” Robin told him. “And you’ve got one.”

“’M not sick.” He grumbled. Kon sat up and then grabbed at his head with one hand and at Robin’s shoulder with the other. “Woah. Is the world supposed to be spinning like that?”

“Okay.” Robin said, gently ushering Kon back into a horizontal position on the bed. “You’re going back to bed and I’m going to get you some cold medicine.”

“But I’m a Kryptonian. We don’t get human sicknesses.” Kon protested weakly.

“What? Are ours not good enough for you?” Robin joked.

Kon was too sick to respond in any way other than giving Robin a particular bird. Robin returned it with a sickly sweet smile.

Robin closed the door behind him but as he could hear from where he was, the all-powerful, invincible Superboy has fallen back asleep.

“Take your medicine, Kon.” Anita said, shoving the liquid cough syrup in his face.

“No! It’s gross! And I don’t need it!” Kon grumbled, but his argument was almost incomprehensible because he was so congested. “Because-”

“You’re not sick.” His teammates chorused.

“Honestly, I never thought I’d miss you saying ‘tactile telekinesis’.” Ray said.

“Kon.” Cissie snapped. “Take your medicine or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

“Make me.”

Cissie began to roll up her sleeves. “Cissie, no-!” Greta cried.

Traya rolled her eyes. She climbed up onto the bed next to Kon. He was swaddled in all the blankets they could find in attempt to sweat out the fever, but so far Kon was still sick. She took the medicine from Anita and held out a measured spoonful of it.

“Come on, please Kon.” Traya asked, turning up the puppy dog eyes.

Kon scowled. “Fine.”

“Yes! Everybody pay up!” Slobo crowed.

Kon turned to tell him off but was interrupted as Traya shoved the medicine into his mouth. Kon was about to say something mean and then remembered how young Traya was and stopped himself.

“It tastes icky.” Kon complained once Traya had removed the spoon. But he did definitely sound better already.

Traya read the label. “It says another spoonful in two hours. Has Robin come back with that soup, yet?”

Cassie shook her head. “He said he’d be back in half an hour or so.”

“’M not sick. Don’t want soup.” Kon grumbled, sliding further under the thick covers of his bed. He then hacked out a wet cough, expertly coughed it into a wastebasket next to him.

“Riight.” Cassie said, shaking her head.

Kon yawned. “Sleepy...”

“Come on guys. He’ll only heal if he gets his rest.” Greta said quietly. The team shuffled out, and Ray, the last out the door, turned off the light, letting Kon sink into sleep in the dark.

Kon had been sick for a week. Even the best chicken soup in the world, or so Robin claimed, had done nothing but bring down his fever. Bart assumed he was right because Robin usually was about these things. Lots of research would go into his claims Bart had learned. Still, Kon hacked and coughed like someone who’d been smoking for thirty years. Still, Kon blew his nose and sneezed with sounds like earthquakes and gunshots. Kon couldn’t even leave on missions, he was so weak and tired. But hey, at least his fever had gone down.

And his fever wasn’t the only thing that was down, Kon was too. He moped all the time. Kicking his feet, padding around the hotel in his Wonder Woman pajamas sad and pouting.

It was starting to get on Greta’s nerves. Greta’s.

“It’s all the time! Just moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing! Doesn’t he have anywhere else he can go?” She whined to Robin.

Oh. Oh. Robin’s eyes widened behind his mask. Could it be… It had been a while since he’d thought of his theory behind Kon’s sickness. Could it be…?

No...

“Soo… Kon. How you doing?”

Kon slithered up and poked his head out from under his quilt. He frowned and stuck a singular hand out into the cold air, grabbed a handful of tissues, slithered back under the blankets, blew his nose, and then tossed it out and into the garbage can next to the bed.

Robin whistled appreciatively. “Two points.”

Kon grumbled something that Robin couldn’t understand.

“Kon. Gonna come out and talk to me?”

“No.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll talk to you.” Robin turned and sat on the side of Kon’s bed. He could hear Kon behind him breathing. “I think I know why you’re so sick lately and such a grouch.”

Kon’s head shot out from under his blanket so fast Robin almost fell off of the bed. “Really? So I’m not like, a broken Kryptonian?”

“Just answer my questions.”

“Okay.”

“When was the last time you left the hotel? Like, went out to do something that wasn’t a mission.”

Kon opened his mouth and then closed it. “Does coming here from Cadmus count?”

“No.”

“When I went out to the movies.”

“When did you go out?”

“At like, six at night. In like, Novemeber”

Robin frowned. Six at night in the winter… that was already dark.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“When was the last time you were in Hawaii?”

Kon scratched at his stubble thoughtfully. “October? They’ve got a new hero now, don’t want me.”

“And Cadmus? That’s where you live now, right?”

“I mean yeah, but all I do is stay inside and drink coffee and marathon Wendy VCR collections-”

“You never go outside when you stay there?”

Kon shrugged. “No reason. Don’t have Tana… or Roxy… now it’s just me and Sterling sometimes. And you guys. Nothing else really in my life.”

That’s what Robin had feared. “I think you’ve got severe seasonal depression.”

Kon frowned, squinting at Robin. “What?”

“You’re a Kryptonian, Kon. You guys are like sunshine batteries. Us humans sometimes get seasonal depression in the winter. By not seeing the sun for a while, we get cranky and sad and exhausted—some people even get sick sometimes. For you it must be a hundred times worse. Your battery has run out, making you susceptible to colds and being, well, a bitch.”

“Robin!” Kon gasped in fake offense.

“Kon, you’ve started to irritate even Greta. That’s what I would call ‘being a bitch.’”

“So what’s your prescription, Doc? A tan?”

“Yeah, actually. Kon-El, I’m sentencing you to a week on a sunny beach. I’m sure you’ll have a horrible time.” Robin gave him a small smirk.

“Fine. But you gotta tell Cassie why I’m leaving, she’ll never believe me.” Kon said, sliding back under the covers.

“Deal. But only if I can come along.”

“Deal.”

#diana writes dc #kon-el #superboy #my boi #yju

[rotzaprachim]

trouble in the heartlands

(On AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893509 0

November, 1975

There’s really nothing in the world that says single and lonely like standing in the check out line on Thanksgiving evening with a flat pack of dried ramen, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a frozen turkey dinner.

(The instant ramen is his usual Thursday purchase, but the frozen turkey dinner is for festivity, and the alcohol is because of how goddamn sorry for himself he feels right now.)

He’s counted out the change in his pocket three times, done the mental math of the tax before he reached the check out because god damn, there’s been enough times in his life when he’s been short at the end of it, scrounging for pennies in his pockets.

He thought he could count on solitude at 6:30 pm on Thanksgiving day, but someone comes up behind him and throws a solitary bag of marshmallows on the till.

Someone with a very familiar set of hands, perfectly manicured nails and all.

“If it isn’t the famous Lando Calrissian.”

“Ham Solo!”

Lando is impeccably dressed, as always, wearing dark jeans and a button-up shirt with a fall leaf design and some kind of a massive, almost cloak-like, knit cardigan that would look ridiculously terrible on Han but on him just works. Like everything does.

(Han’s wearing a different flannel shirt than yesterday. He thinks. Hopes.)

Lando’s eyes flit over Han’s shopping. He tries not to notice Lando’s eyelashes. Or his lips. Or .. . . anything else about him.

“Nutritionally balanced, I see.”

“Hey! The only thing you’re buying is a bag of marshmallows.”

“These are for my mother’s famous sweet potato casserole, if you must know. Lilah and Janie stole the first bag and now she’s sans marshmallows for her annual cookoff-slash-cage match with my Aunt Tia. And so I must play the part of the dutiful son,” he finishes, over dramatically tapping the bag of marshmallows.

Han vaguely remembers that Lilah and Janie are two of Lando’s nieces. The whole situation’s domestic enough that it stabs at his insides in a wierd, uncomfortable way. Like he has feelings.

The guy in front of Han finishes paying for his approximately million rounds of ammunition- god bless America!- and the cashier starts to ring up Han’s shit.

“3.85.”

“Wait a minute. It’s supposed to be 3.35.”

“3.85. If you can’t pay, put something back.”

He does’t have the extra fifty cents. What he does have is a bent coupon book he shoves at the cashier.

“3.35. Look, the noodles are on sale.”

“The Sizzling Shrimp Surprise and the Rockin’ Wasabi were on sale. The Picante Beef, as a premium flavour, are not.”

Han’s about to fight past the overwhelming wave of humiliation at having this drama play out in front of the ex-boyfriend he has not, in fact, gotten over yet emotionally, and swap the Picante Beef for a case of Rockin’ Wasabi, when Lando places two quarters on the till.

“Should cover it.”

“I don’t need-“

“It’s fine-“

“I don’t need it.”

“Jesus, Han. You don’t have to live your entire life in some kind of fucking self-impost "lone gunman" exile. That’s not the way that humans work.”

And suddenly they’re back in a slightly different argument in a very different place, and Lando is folding his stuff to leave and Han is saying things he will never, ever, stop regretting.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and shoves his stuff into a plastic bag to leave.

“Hey,” Lando calls after him, “you looking for somewhere to spend Thanksgiving?”

It’s a question and an invitation and Han doesn’t which is the worse coward’s way- ignoring it, or taking it up and letting the disaster start all over again, this time with bigger stakes and sharper knives and deeper wounds.

He chooses the former, and trips over a display of fake plastic pumpkins on the way out.

December, 1981

Sometimes, the entire story of the disaster can be spread out on the conveyor belt: gauze, burn cream, disinfectant, and Lando Calrissian’s ex-boyfriend, standing and looking sheepish under the glaring supermarket lights, with a splotchy red hand he keeps waving around periodically.

(Sometimes, another story is spread out beside it, on the other side of the divider, on Lando’s side of the conveyor belt. Breath mints and a box of condoms and a small bouquet of those supermarket roses.)

“You’re sure you’re fine, Han?” He doesn’t even bother with wildly mispronouncing his name. “Because whatever happened to your hand, that looks like it needs actual medical attention. Not whatever shit you’re going to try.”

“I’m. Fine.,” he insists through gritted teeth, and given how overdramatic Han usually is, his forced placidity tells Lando that it hurts like hell.

“What happened?”

“The usual badass stuff, you know. Got into a fist fight with some guys next to a tortilla chip factory, things got ugly, had to take it to one of the vats of boiling oil-“

“Calm down, friend.” Lando does some quick mental math. “Fifth night of Hannukah, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

(“Not like, a major holiday or anything,” he remembers Han saying, “but it’s the only one that’s got my name in it- well, kinda, sorta, if you really mispronounce the first ch- plus there’s fried stuff and culturally sanctioned gambling.”)

“You burn yourself frying?” He has to laugh, just a little. “What’s changed?”

“SOLO!,” a voice screams across the mostly deserted row of check out stations. The voice belongs to a fair, pale woman, wearing a long white skirt and a distinctly annoyed expression. “The pharmacist said that only an idiot could mess applying this stuff. Your hand should be fine. Probably”

She wedges her way past Lando, slams a small box with a long medical name on the till, and then snaps her purse open.

“I can pay-“

One look of her narrowed brown eyes and Han shuts up.

“Y’think I can get a robot hand like Luke’s?”

“Luke lost his entire hand as a combat injury. You lightly burned yours trying to copy some trick you saw Julia Child do once because you couldn’t find a spatula.”

Han waves his hand in front of Leia’s face. “What part of this looks lightly burned? It hurts like hell.”

“Yeah, well, so do breakups and periods, but you don’t hear people asking for robot appendages to make up for those.”

There’s something familiar in the way they bicker, but also in the way Leia wraps her arm around his shoulders and buries her head against his neck while she laughs, even though she’s still also clearly pissed about the magnitude of idiocy involved in the latke incident. Lando decides not to overanalyse it, because even on the surface level it’s enough to stab him in the heart.

When Han introduces them they swap business cards. Leia Organa, City Councilwoman. Lando Calrissian, CEO, Bespin Industries. They’re the kind of people who’d meet at a dinner party or a networking event, somewhere with crudités and boxed white wine in little glasses where they’d take turns schmoozing and cutting at the stuffed shirts and pretentious titles. That’s how, Lando swears, he and Leia Organa were meant to meet. Not here, not in a harshly lit convenience store with massive displays of fake snow and gingerbread-flavoured candy canes, and not both a little in love with Han Solo.

February, 1983

He’s not sure there’s a clearer visual representation of “single-and-recently-heartbroken” than renting a pile of romantic comedies and buying cookie dough ice cream, but it’s 2 AM and at this point he feels like the only person alive.

The supermarket’s a ghost town, something vaguely macabre about the boxes of Captain Crunch and cans of corn at this hour of the night (morning?) Jesus, he used to be a party boy. This used to be the time that the night got going and the really wild shit started to go down. This used to be the time of night that he waited the rest of the day for.

Now he’s an adult. Now he’s a respectable adult with a successful energy business and a possibly mayoral bid. When the fuck did that happen?

Now he puzzles over wether to add in a box of Lucky Charms for the morning, before deciding fuck that, he’s an adult now, bread, eggs, and Bloody Mary fixings.

It ends up being a pile of stuff he’s going to have to schlep home. Taxi? But at this time of night? He forgot to bring a reusable bag. Plastic bags? He can practically hear Elle yelling at him.

He’s still in a hazy mood as he drops his stuff onto the conveyor belt, taking care so that the Smirnoff doesn’t roll over the side, when he notices the only other guy in line with him.

Fucking hell, the universe can be weird and cruel.

"Yeah, Leia, I got it, I got it, I'm in the checkout line, anything else you need? Saltines or anything. A pause. "No, of fucking course not! I didn't mean to suffest- Well I got it and we'll get home and we'll talk and- and yeah Yeah. We'll talk." He's mumbling into his .. . cell phone? Since when does he have a cell phone? "Yeah. I love you too."

"Hen Yolo. Imagine meeting you here.”

Hen Yolo looks even more dazed and stunned than Lando does. He doesn’t even have some snappy but clearly inferior comeback, which is the sign that something really big’s gone down.;

Lando’s eyes flit to the one item Han’s buying, a small shiny box that Han keeps drumming his fingers against tunelessly. Anxiously.

Shit. Something really small, then.

“Oh,” says Lando, because even he can’t really think of how to respond to running into his fucking ex-boyfriend at 2 AM in a convenience story buying a fucking pregnancy test.

(He notices, right then, that Han still has the remnants of the burn scars across the backs of his hands, his knuckles. They look almost floral.)

“Hey,” says Han.

Instinctively, his hand snatches over to cover the test, eyes darting like cornered prey.

(It’s not beyond Lando’s notice that Councilwoman Leia Organa has become Senator Leia Organa since the last time they met. And who can forget the months of tabloid buzz over her being the secret daughter of President Vader, either?)

(Also: at some point those tabloids are going to get ahold of Han and have a field day. He looks like a doctored-ly terrible paparazzi photo most of the time anyway. And however this current situation plays out, there’s a high likelihood Han’s going to be pulled from the shadows as something more than Senator Organa’s secret boyfriend/occaisonal driver.)

“My lips are sealed, Solo.”

Han nods, distracted, almost bouncing off the balls of his feet, more nervous teenager than the 30-something man he is. He’s projecting enough rays of nervous energy to power an entire city.

The cashier doesn’t spare a glance at what Han’s buying as she rings him up. “Cash or credit?”

“Credit.”

He pulls a sturdy-looking leather wallet that Lando’s never seen before from his jeans pocket and takes out a fancy silver card.

Lando pretends to be shocked. “Credit? Han Solo with a credit card? What are you, moving up in the world? Respectable?”

He ignores Lando, shoves his purchase into a paper bag, and stalks out the door.

Maybe it’s because he’s a goddamn idiot without any sense of self-preservation either, or maybe it’s because he actually goddamn misses the man who was, for years, his best friend, but Lando makes a split decision and dashes out after Han, leaving his place in line and all his groceries still on the till.

“Solo! SOLO! HAAAAN!”

Childish, maybe, but it’s enough to make Han slow down. Not turn around, but slow down, and when he reaches his car, stop.

“What do you want?”

Because they’ve lied to each other enough times before, Lando decides to be honest.

“My old friend back.”

“Fucking hell, Lando, it’s too late for you to come pulling me back into your-“

“Not as we were, clearly. It’s far too late for that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it definetely is.”

More awkward silence. Lando notes that the Falcon now has a bunch of Leia’s campaign stickers on it and that Han’s done. . . well at least a cursory job at cleaning the inside of it out. He’s taken some of Chewie’s fur off the seats, at least. He’s still got the gold dice.

“Hold out your arm,” Lando finally instructs.

“Why?”

“Because I'm giving you my new number and this is the only way I now you won’t loose it.”

Lando pulls a Sharpie out of his pocket while Han reluctantly rolls back a sleeve. He writes his number on Solo’s arm with big, mildly humiliating strokes, and then scrawls - Calrissian, CEO Bespin Industries, future mayor- on his wrist, just for slight irritation’s sake.

(If you got rid of of ten years, the pregnancy test, and the parking lot, and added in some terrible pounding music, a disco ball, and some terribly v-cut shirts, this could almost be the first time they met.)

“Thanks. I’ll call you.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll send you an invite to one of Leia’s Shabbat dinners. They’re pretty great. All three senator Organas, her brother and whoever his current boyfriend is, her eldritch abomination of a biological father-“

“Really?”

Lando’s one experience with President Vader can only really be quantified as soul-shaking terror, but the image of him sitting down with Leia and Han at a dining table is almost hilarious.

“Nah, he’s serving a life sentence. But come anyway.”

Who knows? It’s a long life. Maybe he will.

“How’r things going for you? The mining thing really took off, didn’t it?”

“Sustainable energy, Solo. It’s made me more money than you could ever dream of-“

“Hey-“

“So I’ve been thinking about what to do with it. Sports car, mansion, creating a network of mentorship opportunities for kids in tech, sustainable development, politics, capes, paying off special interest groups. You know, the usual.”

Han smiles and bites his lip. “Have you changed at all?”

“Yes. Like I said, I’m rich.” He claps Han on the shoulder, just enough to shake the man slightly. “Enough on me. You gotta get home. You gotta get back to Leia.”

He nods and jumps into the Falcon, which rumbles as argumentatively to life as it always does.

“See you around.”

Lando watches the Falcon drive off. He decides that rescuing his groceries from the check-out line isn’t worth it, pulls out his phone, and calls a taxi.

#my writings #han solo #lando calrissian #leia organa #solo: a star wars story #sw fics #hanleia #hanlando

[natures-cunning-ways]

On Oliver’s decision

(If you don’t know what Oliver does at the end of the story, and don’t want to know, click away now.  I’m guessing everyone knows really so here goes)

So. Oliver’s getting married. Isn’t that a heartbreaking little scene?

There’s a difference, maybe a pretty big one, between Oliver telling Elio he’s getting married in the book vs. film.  

In the film he tells him over the phone when he calls to wish the Perlmans a happy Hannukah, whereas in the book he tells Elio in person when he comes to visit at Christmas.

We’ll come back to that.

So he says “I might be getting married in the Spring”.  And then, in the film, he tells mum and dad Perlman ‘I just got engaged’.

But you know what?  In the book, there’s no evidence that he’s actually engaged yet.  The wording strongly suggests he isn’t.  Because you know what?  When you’re engaged, you say ‘I’m getting married’.  What newly-engaged person says ‘I might be getting married’? (Nobody, that’s who.  Nobody says that).

So he might be getting married.  He might be, but he doesn’t know yet.  Why doesn’t he know?  Because he hasn’t actually popped the question. And why not?  Well.  

Instead he’s come to visit the guy he fell head-over-heels in love with not six months ago.  

Interesting.

(I’m gonna put a cut here for length)

He doesn’t tell mum and dad Perlman anything, as far as we know.  Maybe he wants to tell Elio in private- but maybe he’s not planning on telling them at all. Because why would he?  There’s nothing to tell as yet.  He’s not engaged.  He could have had a discussion with them regardless, saying ‘I’m thinking of asking this girl to marry me’.  But he doesn’t.   Or perhaps he does discuss it with Prof. P- after all, he and Oliver have a long talk just before Oliver comes upstairs to see Elio.  Maybe Elio’s father says ‘you should talk to him’.  It’s the sort of thing he’d say, after all.  

He gets Elio alone and tells him.  He actually asks him if he minds.  

I think at this point he’s decided he’s going to ask the girl to marry him.  It makes sense for him, but there’s something in him holding back.   

I don’t think he’s asking for Elio’s permission.  Not at all. But maybe he feels like he has to give Elio a chance to say something.  Maybe that he owes it to Elio to talk to him about it before he makes that decision, before there’s no going back.  So he’ll always know he gave him that chance.  

A part of Oliver wants Elio to say no, actually, I’m not okay with that.  To beg him, plead with him not to do it.  But he knows he won’t.

And a part of Elio, once he’s got his head round things, must want Oliver to say tell me not to do this, tell me you’re not okay with it. But he knows he won’t.

Would Oliver have considered slowing things down with his girlfriend, maybe considered coming back to Italy next summer to see if there’s any way he and Elio could work something out? Maybe.    

As for Elio- the first thing he thinks of is Oliver’s happiness: “I was happy for them, marriages were good, and the broad smile on my face was genuine enough”.  That’s one hell of a lot of love right there.  He only realises “a while later that such news couldn’t possibly bode well for us”.  

Oh, Elio, you poor, sweet little soul.  

Continued here

#cmbyn #call me by your name #cmbyn book #spoilers #I mean #maybe very light spoilers #but only if you live under a rock or something