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sakura-ame-no-ai · 3 years

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"bring a jacket next time."

pairings: tetsurou kuroo x reader

genre: fluff

notes: in japan, their way of checking the time is much different than america. they use 24-hour clocks. so if it was 1 in the afternoon, it would be counted as 13:00 for them.

a/n: it felt like some special holiday for me today and i don't know why... but seriously, how is my last kenma fanfic getting so much love istg- anyways, enjoy this fanfiction! i couldn't think of a good title for this on... :sob:

you sneeze suddenly when a gust of wind blows against your legs. it is indeed cold outside, but the shriveled leaves scraping their way down the street makes it seem much colder.

"why does it have to be so cold on a beautiful night like this..," you mutter to yourself, wrapping yourself with your arms.

too bad you didn't contemplate on bringing a jacket with you before bursting through the door with kuroo calling behind you.

well, now you feel a little guilty remembering that you lied to kuroo that you were going to buy some snacks at a nearby konbini. in reality, you just want to spend most of the night searching for some shooting stars.

you make a brief trip to the park, to which you find everything abandoned. that one big red slide that you always see children fighting to have their turn on is now empty and lonely. the swings seem motionless, too. however, they still rock back and forth every now and then when a chilly breeze rushes by. the seesaw is tilted down at an angle, making one side touch the ground full of woodchips.

you search for that favorite brown bench that has legs made out of an elegant black metal of some sort. soon, you discover it sitting under a big maple tree silently. it faces a metal fence that is as high as your waist, which a beautiful view of a huge lake stretches out on the other side of that fence. you don't hesitate to plop down and make yourself comfy on the bench, admiring the wavy reflection of the glittering stars and moon on the water's surface.

you could stare at such a view all day...

well, you would if you had brought a jacket though.

the cold night air wraps around you, trying to embrace you in a friendly way, but all it does is make you shiver and lift your feet onto the bench. you hug your knees and bury your mouth and nose inside your arms and knees, cursing to yourself about why you were stupid enough to not bring some warm clothing before setting out.

"just like i thought," a voice that sounds very familiar booms out from behind you, making you flinch.

you turn your head around to see a bedhair walk up to you with a cheeky grin.

"tetsu?!" you squeal, a little shocked that he actually know exactly where you were. "how did you know i'm here?"

kuroo is bundled up in a scarf and his nekoma jacket. he also has a thick piece of folded cloth draped over his right arm, making you assume that it's probably a blanket.

"i've never seen you that eager to do some shopping at the konbini, kitten," he replies, taking a seat next to you.

"you've always been a fan of sceneries outside, so that gave me an idea."

you give him a look of amazement, awed by the fact that he knows you very well like you're his child or something. however, it isn't long before kuroo bonks you on the head.

"you little rascal~ why didn't you bring a coat? it's like below 25 degrees celsius, and here you are, hanging out at the park, short-sleeved, and without a jacket or coat."

you whimper at his remarks.

"well, you know i was excited, tetsu..," you pout, puffing your cheeks out.

he chuckles, "nobody was blaming you, ok?"

kuroo takes a moment to peel off his nekoma jacket and place it over your shoulders. you gratefully hug it over your shoulders. other than the fact that it smells strongly of that lavender body soap you gave him, the jacket felt warm from kuroo's body heat, making you feel safe.

an unintentional smile slips onto your lips and you readjust your gaze to the sky.

"say... do you think there will be any shooting stars tonight?"

kuroo lifts a brow before fixing his gaze at the sky as well.

"oya? hunting for shooting stars?"

you nod eagerly, continuing to look up attentively.

"mhm! you told me that it's shooting star season!"

the branches of the maple tree above you sway gently, swishing its leaves together to create gentle rustling sounds.

kuroo smiles and points towards one of the stars.

"do you know how stars are formed, n/n?" he asks you, his finger directing your gaze towards the appointed star.

you squint to make a more intricate observation of the star while racking your brain, trying to remember your astrology lessons at school.

"well... don't stars form from accumulated gas and dust in space?" you finally conclude, remembering one fact your teacher has emphasized back then.

kuroo nods happily.

"yep. stars form when the gravity of the dust and air collapse together, which makes them heat up out of pressure."

he continues to ramble on about how stars mostly contain hydrogen and helium, the lightest elements to exist in the universe, and how stars are, in reality, exploding balls of gas.

you listen patiently as he explains. you are always interested in his nerdy science talk, as well as the way he is invested in his own world when a discussion related to a scientific topic arises.

it takes him a little bit to finish his explanation with a sneeze.

of course, he's not wearing his jacket. that's why.

you take off the jacket you were wearing and hand it to him.

"you're gonna catch a cold, so take your jacket back."

however, he pushes it back into your chest.

"no, kitten. you have it. i'm worried about you more."

you begin to pout, angry that he's always caring for your health instead of his own.

"no, kuroo," you say with an upset look. "this is not my jacket."

you two begin fighting about who should wear kuroo's jacket, exaggerating the possibilities of not wearing one and lecturing one another.

"that's it," kuroo sighs, looking troubled.

at first, you are confused by his words.

"what do you m-"

it was at this moment that kuroo covers the blanket that you forgot he had brought onto his back and then trapping you inside his arms, wrapping your body inside the blanket.

"there, now we're both warm," he smirks.

you take a while to understand the situation you're currently in before blushing madly. you look up at him, only to see that usual proud smirk on his face. he obviously did this on purpose.

"tetsu?! what the actual hell?!" you scream.

"oya? anything wrong?" he asks a little too 'innocently', pissing you off.

you growl back, "of course, you dumbass! people might see us and take this to like a million different wrong directions!"

"kitten, it's almost half-past 23:00. it's really unlikely that we'll be seen since most people are asleep."

you can't counter back, because that sly cat is right. most people are asleep at this time, so it's highly unlikely that you'd get caught like this with kuroo.

you have no idea how to react, so you decide to lean your back against kuroo, resting your head on his chest. at least, you realize that you feel much warmer than wearing his jacket. in the end, you start to relax, paying closer attention to the steady rise and fall of his chest while he breathes.

"do you ever see stars as memories when you look at them?" you ask kuroo, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

"sometimes," he smiles, looks at one of the stars.

"like that one near that giant cloud reminds me of when i stole your meat from your lunchbox."

you cough.

"do you think this is a great time to bring this up??"

he only smirks at you. "you asked if i get reminded of anything when i look at a star."

you pout a little and fix your eyes to another star and point your finger towards it.

"well, this one reminds me of when yaku beat your ass for stealing meat from my lunchbox."

you two begin talking back and forth, saying which star represented which memory, laughing about the old days, and fighting about various things, like who should've gotten to eat that scrumptious piece of steak.

as you come back to argue about the lunchbox situation again, a white streak catches your eyes, snapping your attention back to the sky.

"look, tetsu! shooting stars!" you exclaim.

what kuroo turns his head to look at the sky with you.

sure enough, more streaks of white rain down like a slight drizzle.

"hurry up! make a wish!" you tell him before clasping your hands together before your face and close your eyes.

kuroo looks at you, then back at the sky. after a while, he closes his eyes and makes his wish.

i want to stay by y/n's side, even after i graduate.

however, he doesn't say it out loud. instead, he wraps his arms around your chest after you have finished making your wish.

for the first time in forever, kuroo gives you the most genuine smile that you've ever seen, which surprises you since you're so used to his cheeky smirks. it reminds you of honey and its sweet flavor.

"you know, kitty, we could do this next time," he coos in the sweetest voice you've ever heard him use.

"did you think i'd stop you?"

"ummmm..."

you look side-ways towards the tree beside you before give him your honest response.

"weeeeell, i thought you'd tell me it'd be too late into the night to do something like this and that i wouldn't be able to wake up if i stay up star-hunting."

kuroo chuckles, petting your head lightly with that big hand of his

"things like this are exceptions."

your eyes light up to his words. he has officially announced the permit to stay up searching for shooting stars that you adore a lot. it makes you very happy that you smile back warmly.

"thank you, tetsurou," you sigh, leaning into his chest comfortably.

"it's nothing, y/n."

he continues to stroke your hair in a soothing way as he maintains that genuine smile on his lips.

"just bring a jacket next time, or star-hunting will be off-limits."

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bethhxrmon · 4 years

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do flowers exist at night? -chapter seven

Chapter Seven: Hands Clean

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: After the initial shock of the events surrounding Halloween and the days after, Steve and Annie both start to realize they may be wrong about how to cope. Their friendship also manages to strengthen in the process

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, might be filler but I call it the beginnings of pining soooo

A/N: Hope you guys really liked this chapter because I thought it was a decent break from all that angst I lumped on pretty early into the fic. It would be fantastic if you guys could let me know your thoughts, I live for it! Anyways, you can find all the other chapters here!

~*~*~*~

Admittedly, Steve could have handled himself alone in the house long enough for Annie to go to school. However, when she pretended to be both her mom and his, he didn't stop her. Not until he was okay enough to drive.

How school would work was a question both of them asked. Steve's bruises were faded enough for Annie to try and cover them up with makeup. That was what she used almost too much of on the cut on her cheek. Sure, she could hide it with her hair, she already did that, but it wasn't enough for her. Nothing was really enough.

Being near Steve wasn't enough to stop her from reliving everything in her head. Besides, she eventually had to go back to her own house. It was safe and she was sure that Steve could use some alone time. Though, she couldn't stand the quiet of her house.

None of that stopped Steve from picking her up on a chilly Wednesday in November. Frost crunched under her boots instead of leaves. It was clear that nothing was going to stop time from passing. She wished it would pause just so she could catch up, but she wasn't sure that would be enough either.

Going back to school gave Annie the same twisted feeling in her gut as her first day. Maybe they found someone else to poke fun at or to joke with. She didn't have anything to defend herself with. Her switchblade was somewhere in the Byers’ house, but she hadn't asked anyone where it went.

"You ready?" Steve asked, looking at her.

Annie took a deep breath and nodded, "It's just school."

They both knew it was more than that. After a few days of hanging out, it became pretty clear when Annie decided to put on a front. Her back would straighten up a little bit too much and she would appear to tense up all over. It wasn't something Steve pointed out, and Annie assumed that he, of all people, would understand.

She could only imagine what seeing Nancy with another guy would be like for him. Though, a part of her wished that a broken heart was all she had to walk into. Seeing Billy was a reality she knew that she would just have to face. However, she tried to avoid it.

Since Steve was feeling better, she knew that she couldn't convince him to stay back. And maybe doing this with a friend would be easier for her. She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans before getting out of Steve's car.

It was going to be okay. That was what she kept telling herself on a loop. Just eight hours, seven if she took out lunch, and then she could go right back home. She could lose herself in a book or maybe try to catch up on some sleep she could never get enough of.

People stopped staring at Steve, and Annie wished that being shorter than him meant that she was safe too. Except it didn't. Nothing changed. There were stares boring into her as she walked to her first class. She didn't bother with her locker. That was something which obviously hadn't changed. Giving other students the satisfaction of walking up to it every day was the last thing she wanted to do.

There was a rumor going on about how Billy slept with her. It wasn't followed nearly as closely as everything with Steve a few days ago. Still, all of that led her to looking forward to lunch.

Sitting in the cafeteria was not an option. The first day back, they both sat in his car. They tried a few more places. By the end of the week, they were sitting in the auditorium. There was something about eating on a stage that calmed Annie a little and Steve was just glad it was empty.

"So what's going on there?" he asked, nodding at her copy of War and Peace.

Annie looked up at him, "Well... how do I explain this... there's this Pierre guy, and he kinda tied a bear to someone."

"What?!"

"In his defense, he was drunk?" she offered, laughing a bit.

Steve shook his head, "Didn't realize books like that were so interesting."

"You're kidding!"

"Every time I try the words don't really make sense or I get distracted by something else."

She nodded, "I get it. I mean, I'm sure you had a lot of other stuff going on."

"Not really. Come on, you lived in Seattle and New York. That's gotta be way more interesting. No wonder you didn't wanna talk to anyone," he chuckled.

"I didn't avoid everyone because I was trying to be pretentious. I gave up. There's a difference."

"What? How? You... you seemed pretty okay."

Annie sighed, "Well, you should've figured out I'm a fair actress by now. It wasn't like I had a say in whether or not I moved. I had to go with my mom or my dad, and well, my mom was the only decent option."

"Well, you can't say you don't have any friends now," Steve said, nudging her a bit.

Annie smiled a bit, "You've got me there."

"Could you read that part, though? With the bear?" he asked, "It just sounds like you're screwing with me."

She nodded, "Gladly, and I can tell you that I'm not screwing with you."

As Annie read the passage out loud, she couldn't help getting into it. Not wanting any of the details to seem boring, she tried her hardest to make all the characters sound different. Not that she would have needed to do that to keep Steve's attention. He looked at her so intently as she read. Of course, it wasn't anything she noticed since she was too caught up in what she was doing.

Lunch was the only real time Annie and Steve got a break from the school. Though, the only people who really cared about what they did were Tommy, Carol, and Billy. The perfect trio to constantly leave Annie feeling like she was going to vomit.

Annie had to stop carrying her books around in her hands. That was something she learned when her copy of War and Peace got snatched from her hands. Tommy didn't have the strength to rip apart the hardcover book, but she didn't want to take any chances either.

"So is it true you fucked Hargrove?" Tommy asked, cornering her in the hall when she was a bit slow to get out of the school.

"No, I think that was you," she said, trying to think of a quick getaway.

Steve sauntered up to both of them, "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, just having a chat with your psychobitch slut of a girlfriend," Tommy replied.

Steve nodded, "Right, I think you're done having a chat."

"No, I'm pretty sure I was just getting started," Tommy insisted, starting to get closer to Steve.

Annie was quick to move away from Tommy and grab Steve by the wrist, "You know what? I think we're done here."

She led Steve out of the school, promptly letting go of his jacket. Something told her that wouldn't be the last time they had to deal with something like that. It was the weekend again, though, and Annie was relieved that she hadn't completely fallen apart while at school. Getting through a full week sounded like it was out of the question.

However, that wasn't on either of their minds when they were sitting in Steve's room again that Saturday. She looked through his closet and sighed.

"Is it that bad?" Steve asked, sprawled across the bed.

Annie tossed a shirt to the side, "I just didn't know anyone could own this many polos. How were you so popular again?"

"Hey! It's because I'm good with the ladies, duh," he said, "What're we listening to right now?"

She found yet another polo and turned to face him, "West Side Story, the most heartbreaking musical I've ever heard in my life."

"I don't get it."

"Well it'd make more sense if we watched it. They're meant to be watched, but I don't have it and Family Video had it rented out already," she tossed aside the eighth polo, "I don’t get why you have so many polos."

He shrugged, "My mom told me they looked good on me and Nancy never minded."

"Well... I don't mind it, just... have you ever thought about what you like?"

"A little? No one really asks me, though."

Annie sat on the edge of the bed, "Do you like having all those polos?"

"Not really... I don't care, though. Same thing with the room," he shook his head, "Do you even know what you like?"

She thought a moment before speaking, "It took a while, but yeah. I don't have anything in my closet that I don't like."

That was a lie. What she wore that night with the demodogs was something she hated now. A part of her wanted to burn it, but she used to love that flannel. But now, it reminded her of everything so much. Mainly what happened with Billy. Shouldn't she have gotten over that by now? She didn't talk to anyone about it after she broke down that one time. A part of her wasn't sure if Steve even remembered.

As helpful as he had been that night and the day after, she knew he wasn't at his best. It was a relief that he was, for the most part, okay in the first place.

"How do you do that?"

She shrugged, "You try different stuff until you find what you like. And you'll know when you like something, trust me."

They stayed in silence for a little while, just listening as "America" played in the background. By all rights, Annie should have just been at her house. Her mom would be home tomorrow, but until then she didn't want to be alone in her house if she could help it. Though, she tried to stay the night at her own house.

Never mind how it had barely been a week and the only thing keeping her from losing it was that her cat would curl up in the middle of her bed with her. She didn't know how to go about talking about it. Though, if he wasn't going to comment on how she probably wasn't sleeping or eating much, then that was fine by her.

"So... what did happen with your parents, anyway?" he asked, "I mean, I get the cheating part, but my parents are still together and my dad’s not much better."

Annie stayed quiet for a few minutes as she tried to think about how to explain herself, "They tried making it work. We moved across the country so that could happen. My dad got a guy for a TA and everything. Still, they kept fighting and they wouldn't stop, and I was getting sick of it. I'm sure the neighbors were too, and I tried to get their attention. The only way I could do that was by talking about hurling myself off the roof of the apartment building."

"Shit... did you um... were you-"

"I didn't mean it, I was just frustrated," she said, thinking that was true, "But they agreed to go to family counseling. It just brought up all the problems my parents had and taught me that I was way more screwed up than I thought. We only went twice before my parents decided on the divorce."

Steve sat up, "That sounds awful."

"Yeah, it kinda was at the time... but my mom's doing the best she can and I appreciate that," she let out a long sigh.

He shook his head, "You shouldn't have had to do all that just for them to listen, though."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey, I know I'm not perfect, but you can talk to me about this stuff. Not that you have to tell me anything unless you really want to, but I just know that not talking about it ended up hurting Nancy a lot," he looked at his hands.

She nodded, "I know- but did it occur to you that I don't wanna talk about it? It's already bad enough just thinking about everything, talking about it? Forget it."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't know what you're normally like since we kinda met a couple days before everything went to shit but," he sighed, thinking of the right words, "But you don't seem right."

"And maybe I'm not, but that's not your problem. That's mine. Let me deal with that on my own time. It's a lot easier to just make fun of how preppy you are."

"Hey!" he tossed a pillow at her.

Annie laughed, feeling the pillow hit her side, "What? I'm right!"

Really, talking about anything else was easier. It wasn't that she wanted to make Steve worry about her, but she couldn't help reacting to everything the way she did. Besides, Annie knew that he wasn't reacting the best to it either. Though, there was a lot more than just demodogs that he had to go through. Losing the girl he still seemed to love had to take a lot out of him.

On the outside, it probably looked like she simply stuck around out of pity or for some form of social protection. Maybe there was some truth in that, but she genuinely thought that Steve was fun to hang out with. He was funny and kinder than he gave himself credit for. Obviously there was a part of her that knew if she didn't stick around with at least someone, she would end up being more of a victim to ridicule than she already was.

All of that pissed her off more than she cared to admit. A part of her really did wish Billy Hargrove were dead. The way he would look at her made her want to run to the bathroom and throw up for hours. What if she had actually tried to cut his throat? No, they would be in a bigger mess than they were already. There was no need to add murder to the mix.

She wanted him dead in almost the same way she wanted her dad dead when she found out he was cheating on her mom. It wasn't something she actually wanted to happen. Death was so final yet uncertain. Saying that she wished that she wanted someone to still be alive but never come near her in any way, shape, or form was a bit long-winded and less catchy. That was more accurate to what she wanted.

"I know you don't like it when people touch you," Steve said, changing the subject back.

Annie shrugged, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No, but... but you're really specific with it. I don't need to know why, I just need to know what you're okay with. We're friends, I need you to at least explain that."

"Um... I mean, I don't know totally, it depends," she paused, "Like, being snuck up on? That's a huge no-go, obviously. I mean, it's not that I hate touch or anything, I just- I prefer to be the one touching someone else. Or if it's, like, one of the kids, that I have a way to get out of it easily. It's mostly with people I'm uncomfortable with. Like you, at first, but it just- it depends, I'm not sure how else to tell you."

He nodded, "That's fine, I just don't wanna end up hurting you on accident or, like, one of the kids or something."

"Well, since you asked me something super personal... do you think you're getting over Nancy at all?" she asked, moving so she was criss-cross on the bed.

Steve frowned, "I guess? Seeing her and Jonathan together sucks a bit less every day. It's only been a week, though. And I'm not dumb, I know she's liked him for a while. I just didn't want to admit it to myself. After what I did last year when I saw them sitting together, I didn't wanna be the asshole jumping to conclusions again. I thought if she didn't love me that she would say it when she was sober. I put in so much effort for her and she didn't even care."

Neither of them brought up how obvious it was that Nancy and Jonathan probably did something when they were off getting some Murray Bauman guy to help them. Annie wasn't going to say anything if Steve wasn't. A part of her thought he knew, but she didn't want to hurt him even more if he hadn't put it together.

"You know she didn't leave you because you were a shitty boyfriend, right?"

"Now that's bullshit."

Annie tossed the pillow in her lap right at Steve's face, "No, you're gonna listen to me. The only one who's bullshit here is Nancy. If she didn't love you, then she should've said so. You were obviously a great boyfriend. You went to her dead best friend's parents' house when you didn't even know them. And you let her go, if you were a shitty boyfriend, you wouldn't have done any of those things."

"That's nice, but I called her a slut and I didn't even really like her much at first."

"If all that bothered her, she could have stayed broken up with you after everything a year ago," she pointed out, "You made up for all that. Not everyone does, and you obviously love her."

They both sat there, not saying anything. Instead, they both just let the music play in the background. Annie knew that she didn't have feelings for Steve. For all the bad luck she had with guys, they were too good of friends for her to mess that up. Because of that, she couldn't let him get over Nancy on his own. And she knew that for as moody as Steve would get at times, he would have told her if he didn't want her around.

Taglist (lmk if you wanna be on it!): @dungeons-and-demodogs @nxncywheeler @ilovebucketbarnes

#steve harrington #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2 #stranger things x original character #stranger things x oc #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff

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thedeadshotnetwork · 6 years

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What We're Thankful For, 2017 Remember how horrible 2016 was, and how thrilled we were to leave it behind? So many people we loved died—Bowie, Ali, Prince, Shandler, Zsa Zsa, George Michael, Gene Wilder, Carrie Fisher, Sharon Jones, Leonard Cohen, Florence Henderson. Harambe . On and on. So many things we loved died too. The truth , for instance. Civility . Trust in institutions, after a long fight, also shuffled off this mortal coil. There were no signs 2017 would be any better. In fact, with the election of Donald J Trump to the land’s highest office, many believed democracy had suddenly found itself on life support. But in such desperate need to turn the page, we placed a bit of hope in the changing of the calendar year anyway. We were so ready to move on, to say “ Fuck 2016! ,” that on January 1, 2017 we woke up to a silly art prank— Hollyweed —and allowed ourselves to believe it somehow meant things were already looking up. How naive we were. It can feel impossible in this waking nightmare to feel there is anything to be hopeful about or thankful for. But unlike the end of ‘16, things actually do appear to be ticking upward. The investigation into Russia’s meddling in the election is closing in . There’s a Reckoning underway for men who abuse their power, and it just might stick . Trump’s approval rating has hit an historic low , and he's largely revealed himself to be a walking disaster who can’t get anything done. Because of him, people are tired . But they're also active . And there is evidence the pendulum may finally have begun to swing the other way. This could again reveal itself to be naiveté. But for the purposes of this post, we’re running with it—welcoming any and all good news, especially during the holidays, which can be especially tough. In that spirit, we once again asked the staff at VICE.com to write a bit about what they’re thankful for in these bad (but getting better!!) times, personal things or people or places they cling to when the world appears to be crumbling. We may not be out of the mire just yet, but the things we’re thankful for help us weather the storm. My Bike For anyone who’s not familiar, New York City’s public transportation is usually a horrorshow . Subways rarely come on time , and when they do, you run the risk of getting stuck underground for hours , having your face peed on by a complete stranger , catching your first glimpse of a dead body , or witnessing the brutality of the animal kingdom in all its glory . So my third summer in New York I decided to buy a bike and I’ve never been more thankful. Not only is it just a better alternative to the shitshow that is the MTA , a great group activity, and something you can (but shouldn’t) do drunk , but I started to grow more connected to a city that often feels like a concrete tourist wasteland. Riding my bike through Brooklyn’s sprawling neighborhoods, to Rockaway Beach, down to Coney Island, over the bridge into Manhattan, and up and down the West Side Highway, taught me more about the city than a random constellation of subway stops ever could. I got my head above ground and out into the place I now call home, and learned about others who call it home in the process. (Bragging about all the exercise I was getting didn't hurt either.) The day I finally became happy in New York was the day I gave in and got a bike. That’s all it took. I stopped relying on everyone and everything else—the uncertainty of the train schedules, the wait time for a bus, and the cost and terrible music of an Uber or a cab. If you want to understand a city, and to better feel your place within it, get on a bike (you should also throw on a helmet) and just go— while you still can . —Lauren Messman, Associate Editor Quitting Drinking, Superhero Movies, and Guy Fieri Photos: Eve Peyser on Instagram / Wikimedia Commons I've spent most of 2017 writing about the Trump administration , and the triumph of evil. To put it mildly, the world is not well, which is inconceivably frightening, and on a personal level, very demoralizing. A saving grace has been not drinking . When I quit last October, I did so because I knew if I kept drinking I would die. Drinking was always an escape for me, a way to not feel like myself and not be accountable to myself and my loved ones; at the same time, it exacerbated my suicidal ideation and depression. I don't think I would've made it through the most chaotic year of myself if I was still drinking alcohol, a substance that has only plunged me deeper and deeper into chaos. I'm incredibly thankful for my boyfriend, a fellow non-drinker. Together, we spent much of the year looking for other, less harmful ways to escape from this shit world. As it turns out, a good, wholesome way to take our minds off all the horror that is 2017 is watching superhero movies. Suicide Squad , The Dark Knight , Deadpool , Thor: Ragnarok , Batman Robin , whatever the film's Rotten Tomatoes rating, they offer a form of escapism that makes me happy without hurting myself. Same goes with Guy Fieri, and the wonderful stars of the Food Network. I am especially thankful for Guy Fieri's unapologetic Guy Fieri-ness—it's genuinely inspiring to me. Despite the insanity of 2017, it was also the year I learned to love the things I love without being embarrassed about it. — Eve Peyser, Staff Writer, Politics TEA At some point in the last three decades America decided collectively to get really into coffee to the point where I assume schoolchildren in the coastal elite bubble are educated in cold brewing and Aeropresses and why burr grinders are better. I come here not to denounce coffee snob culture (I have paid $5 for a pourover and did not complain about it) but to raise up tea culture. Sometimes I don't need to mainline all that caffeine that comes in your average cup of "good" coffee. I just want a hot drink to read while I watch a mature, adult television program such as a Ken Burns documentary or HGTV. Green tea, bitter black tea with some milk, herbal teas that can taste like flowers or orange or mint—it's all good, apart from Lipton's, which thank God is mostly not served outside of the Midwest, diners, and certain institutional settings. (I'm talking about hot tea here; iced tea is also excellent.) Teabags are fine but really you should have a teapot and loose leaves, which will feel charmingly eccentric to Americans. Next time someone comes over offer them some tea, or better yet just tell them you are making tea and they can have some if they want, because that's the kind of person you are: a hospitable drinker of tea who even has those little mesh balls you put the leaves into. Tea gives you something to do in the kitchen when you want to check out of a family gathering. It warms your hands during cold winter nights. I won't go so far as to say that drinking it makes you a good person but I'm sure that it's harder to be a vicious asshole while drinking a nice cup of hot tea, and isn't that what the holidays are all about? —Harry Cheadle, Senior Politics Editor Yoga When it feels like things are in a tailspin, and I can't stand reading one more headline or wondering why I'm bothering putting money into a 401(k) when Donald Trump could literally blow up the planet at any moment, there's really only one thing that consistently makes me feel better: yoga. For me, practicing yoga is the difference between near-constant low-grade anxiety about the state of the world and the ability to fucking chill about it. When I'm feeling shitty, I've learned to put those feelings aside for an hour and hit the mat instead. Nine times out of 10, I feel somewhat better afterwards. So yes, I am thankful for my yoga practice. (On a related note, I'm also thankful for weed, for very similar reasons.) —Kara Weisenstein, Associate Editor The 2017 World Series Champion Houston Astros This year I flew home to Houston, Texas, to visit my parents. The trip was supposed to be quick, just two days. It ended up being nine. Many of them were spent in the dark, without electricity. My trip was the same weekend another visitor came to town: Hurricane Harvey. Even as He began slowly churning in the Gulf and was projected to come knocking as soon as I touched down, I went ahead with my travel plans undeterred. As a Third Coast native, I'd lived through many a ‘cane, and figured the trip would be just a tad bit wetter than I'd hoped. I was wrong. Though my folks were largely spared , I was beginning to see—through Facebook, texts, calls—that many old friends, neighbors, colleagues, and relatives were not. The scope of destruction was massive, the exact kind you might expect when a year's worth of rainfall is wrenched from the clouds in just a few days . Everyone got touched. Efforts to recover were similarly massive. All the donated money and funds both federal and local helped people rebuild homes, surely, but spirits around the region were also in massive need of renovation. That came in the form of the Houston Astros. This was, in a word, unlikely. These are the Astros. Just a few short years ago they were the worst team in the sport . (The Dis-Astros they were sometimes called when I was growing up.) And even when they've managed to field good teams they always find a way to fuck things up. So when they found themselves this year in the World Series facing a favored Los Angeles Dodgers, the most expensive squad in baseball , there was nary a reason to believe they wouldn't be swept like they were the one and only other time they'd found themselves playing this late into the season. But they won. In seven thrilling, totally fucking insane games , they won. Quickly the photo updates of various rebuilding efforts and the lasting evidence of Harvey's destructive rumble were replaced on my Facebook feed with reaction videos of the last World Series out, photos of the various victories along the way, GIFs of improbable plays, and plans to attend the parade. Nothing will ever erase Hurricane Harvey's enormous impact on the city of Houston. But because of it, the Astro's championship season couldn't have come at a better time. —Brian McManus, Special Projects Editor My Fringe-Ass Dad My dad is fringe, in the same way Frank Reynolds is fringe —in fact, he’s a lot like Frank Reynolds, interspersed with a little bit of Homer Simpson, a dash of Harrison Ford, and a whole lot of Larry David. Once, he hit a deer while he was driving through rural Georgia in his sedan, and instead of doing anything about it, he left the chunk of fur that had lodged itself into his crumpled grill in place, neglected to clean the blood from his hood, and started calling his shitty four-door the “Deer Slayer 2000.” He rips cigs. He doesn’t pay parking tickets, as a rule. He’s been wearing the same army-green coat every winter for about a decade, despite the fact that there’s a gaping, tattered hole in the left elbow. Another good one: Five hours into a bender with my reprobate friends at a grimy Atlanta bar, after too many games of pool (couldn’t really see the balls) and air hockey (somehow wound up with bloody knuckles) on which we bet a pickle-back apiece, everyone in attendance—including, of course, my fringe-ass dad—decided to go to the Clermont Lounge . It’s a seedy, smoky strip club that’s really more of a dive bar than anything, and it is (for lack of virtually any other word in my vocabulary) fringe. But we didn’t have a way to get there. So my dad—who, thankfully, was sober enough to drive—had all eleven of us pile into his tiny, beat up sedan: Two in the front seat, seven in the back, and me and a buddy in the trunk. We all easily could’ve died, and though two people vomited on the way there, we made it, and everything turned out fine—better than fine. It was fucking awesome. We drank, and sang, and ran around like idiots, and danced our asses off. I bought my dad a lap dance. The point is this: My dad is extremely fringe, and I have never laughed harder, or marveled more, or appreciated to a deeper degree anything than I do his fringe-ass self. This Thanksgiving, I’ll eat turkey, and pet my dogs, and probably play a few games of Trivial Pursuit, all of which will be nice. But what I’m most excited about—what I’m most thankful for—is the chance to get weird with the lawless, depraved (and, by the way, huge-hearted, shockingly brilliant, impossibly selfless) psychopath who raised me. Here’s to you, Dad. Stay fringe. —Drew Schwartz, Junior Staff Writer Whitney and Brandy in 'Cinderella' While cleaning my apartment the other day, I was looking for some Whitney Houston to jam to. I stumbled upon the 1997 Rodgers Hammerstein's Cinderella soundtrack, which featured Brandy and Whitney Houston. This was the only version of Cinderella we were allowed to watch growing up, and for good reason—the movie sparked my love and appreciation for Whitney Houston and made me dream of being a princess like no other Disney movie had before. The soundtrack took me back to simpler days where every holiday season my mother, sister, and I would watch the scene with Brandy gliding around the dance floor with her prince. We were in awe of the beautiful ballroom filled with cool-colored gowns. From the mixed-race cast to the banging soundtrack, this movie was a huge part of my childhood. I am thankful for this version of Cinderella that was ahead of its time in so many ways. —Janae Price, Editorial Assistant These Things Image by Lia Kantrowitz Sometimes talking or writing without putting my foot in my mouth is hard work. I’m truly thankful I have a job where I don’t often have to express myself with words. In that vein, here is a collage of other things I’m thankful for. —Lia Kantrowitz, Senior Illustrator New Jersey I'm back at my mother's house right now in New Jersey for Thanksgiving, and I'll be here for four days—the longest stay I've had in my home state since I moved to New York five years ago. I don't miss this place until I'm here, but I often find myself defending it, even in Brooklyn. I only grew up once, but you'd be hard-pressed to convince me there's somewhere better to do it. I'm from a land that people go through to get somewhere better—to New York, to Philly, to the airport. It makes you restless, flamboyant, and (sometimes) overtly obnoxious. It's everything I enjoy about life. There's something in the air, beyond pollution, that will always make me feel at home here. Even just exiting the tunnel on the train from Manhattan, once it emerges on the other side of the Hudson, makes me feel different. The smokestacks. The factories. The toll booths and swamps and power lines. Finally I can say "fuck" every other word, and no one's going to say shit. In New Jersey, you learn things. You learn how to speak, to tell stories. You learn how to drive 80 miles an hour eight inches from the back of another car. You learn you're not fucking special. You don't have to make up your mind here. You can elect a man who might as well be the mascot for corruption, and then you can tell that guy to fuck off and pick the dude who's going to legalize pot. You can watch The Jersey Shore with irony and without irony, simultaneously. You can listen to Bon Jovi, and understand why he's brilliant and silly, and you can listen to Bruce Springsteen, and understand why he's brilliant and silly. Plus, we have better bagels than Long Island. And better emo music. Fuck them. —Alex Norcia, Copy Editor, VICE.com and VICE Magazine November 23, 2017 at 04:23PM

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