#eating this drawing like thanksgiving dinner

[raveartts]

screencap redraw

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

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@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 09

PREVIOUS

Thanksgiving dinner really wasn’t that bad. It’d been years since FF had been to one as lively as this.

Kevin is loud and demanding when it comes to what needs to be on the TV and the exact perfect schedule to catch all of the Exy games being played. Wymack brought bourbon and has put it on the highest shelf in Abby’s kitchen right next to where Abby put the second pie for the exact same reason: Keep Andrew out of it. The Monsters and FF all get roped into helping Abby prep the meal.

He’s told that usually there are more people staying over Thanksgiving but this year more had gone home or gone to friend’s homes to celebrate. The only ones there are the Monsters, FF, and Jack.

Jack sits sullenly on the couch no matter what task Abby tries to give him.

Eventually, potatoes are mashed, turkeys are carved with appropriate knives, corn is creamed, macaroni is cheesed, canned cranberries have been de-canned, and the stuffing is…there on the table.

“Dig in!” Abby says not bothering with grace.

It’s good.

FF still misses his grandma’s cooking. It’s nice to have this loud Thanksgiving like he used to get but there’s something special about helping his grandma in the kitchen and the two of them sitting down to eat.

He definitely misses his grandma’s company when Jack starts to loudly complain about every last food item that Abby has so graciously laid out for them.

Wymack & Captain Neill both tell him to knock it off and threaten grueling exercises when practice starts back up while Andrew just threatens him with a knife multiple times to shut him up but FF can see Jack looking in the kitchen as he sits in silence after Andrew not so stealthily held a knife to his ribs.

Jack is looking at his grandma’s pie up on the top shelf.

Jack is going to complain about his grandma’s pie.

He looks at the Monsters and knows that there is only one person at this table who can POSSIBLY stop him is the person that FF fears the most.

Still….

He figures Andrew owes him a final request before he’s murdered in a basement, secondary location or (a new option he thought of on the way over to Abby’s in Andrew’s absurdly nice car), a secondary location’s basement.

“I want you to stop Jack from having any of my grandma’s pie.” He says in German drawing the attention of Aaron, Nicky, and Neil. Andrew blinks at him but says nothing so he continues. “If he says something mean about it then I’ll lose it.” He says.

FF means that if Jack insults his grandma’s pie that she had managed to get to him through some sort of grandmotherly wizardry then FF will burst into tears. He’s got what doctor’s call leaky eyes and there is no cure for these bad boys. He knows he’ll try to defend his grandma’s pie from whatever issue Jack will take with it but he also knows that he will be sobbing during that defense.

Andrew hears that and thinks that he might finally get to witness what FF looks like when he’s angry. From Kevin’s screaming, to Jack’s taunts, to Andrew’s own barbs, he has yet to see FF get mad. FF’s ability to stay in his own lane and regulate his emotions is one of the reasons that Andrew considers him a friend. He thinks about the bags under FF’s eyes and how desolate he had looked staring down at the ‘CANCELLED’ notification on his phone.

Andrew is getting into the art of doing something nice. For a friend.

He gives FF a singular nod and pulls one of his knives out of his arm bands and makes his way over to the pie. He ignores some various questions from the other, irrelevant.

“I want a slice at least!” Nicky demands and he nods as he cuts up the pie into seven normal sized slices. He puts each on a plate and Neil, every understanding of Andrew’s intentions, hands them out to the Monsters, FF, Wymack, and Abby.

“Good, finally get to try this stupid pie.” Jack says and Andrew levels a knife that has an apple slice slowly sliding off of it at Jack’s face.

“People who can’t appreciate the free dinner don’t get to have dessert.” He says and watches as Jack’s face goes through an entire range of emotions, “You saw what I could do to a turkey. I have no problem doing it to you if you try anything.” He says and Jack goes white before he trudges out of the dining area entirely.

Andrew watches him go before picking up the remainder of the pie (nearly a quarter) and making his way over to the fridge.

FF pipes up, “Try it without the ice cream first.” He says because even if he likes his pie à la mode the first bite has to be pure pie.

Andrew shrugs and eats the apple pie filling off of the knife.

It’s immaculate.

It’s the best pie that Andrew has ever tasted in his life and he has tasted some pies.

He has no idea what Jack would have complained about other than the fact that FF had an entire one of these all to himself. This pie had travelled across the continental United States and tasted like this. Andrew can only imagine what it is like when it is coming fresh out of the oven.

He grabs the ice cream from the fridge and watches everyone else try the first bite of FF’s grandma’s pie.

“I want to meet your grandma and shake her hand.” Wymack says eyes closed even as his hand reaches for some bourbon.

“I want to your grandma to adopt me.” Nicky says.

“She can adopt both of us if it means pies like this.” Aaron agrees.

“This is good.” Kevin says as he continues to eat it.

“Really good.” Neil agrees.

“Maybe she could share the recipe with me. I’d love to make this.” Abby says as she drinks a glass of milk.

“Thanks, she’ll be happy to hear it.” FF’s shoulders loosen as he puts away his own slice quickly.

There is some grumbling as Andrew hoards the rest of the pie himself and only gives bites to Neil. “I wonder if we should get the whipped cream out for it?” Neil asks him in Russian.

Andrew frowns and considers it for a long moment, “We have plans for that whipped cream tonight and the stores will be closed.” He says back in the same language. FF has paused in eating the last of his slice. “Problem?” He asks.

“Last bite.” FF responds back immediately and Andrew lets it go unaware that FF had spent 2 seconds wondering how whipped cream would play into whatever torture device Andrew was going to shove him into the second they arrived in Columbia before realizing that it was a sex thing.

He lets his hand go into his pocket and rub the paper of his grandma’s note to him.

It’s not a bad last meal.

NEXT

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[musicalchaos07]

A Very Late WIP Wednesday

The first couple of days bleed together. Joyce stayed in bed, and Jonathan came by with small meals insisting she had to eat something. Their house was proverbial Fort Knox, no one went in or out. That was until Karen sent Nancy along with a casserole and for a briefest second at the dinner table Jonathan had a look in his eye that she's seen before but she couldn't remember when.

The next week the boys went back to school, she went back to work and found out that the town was once again well aware of her latest tragedy before she had the chance to tell them. They buried Bob's ashes on a Tuesday, that much she's sure of. Afterwards, in the church hall, she walked in on Nancy consoling Jonathan and it felt like she was watching herself stand there motionless. Begging herself to do something to comfort him. Before she could, Jonathan quickly dried his tears, stiffened his upper lip and straightened up. He even asked her if she was ok, and she felt so ashamed she cried.

The next day she cleaned the house in a rage while the boys were at school. When she realized all the drawings were long gone the anger truly took hold. It was all so fucking unfair. Owens got to survive and Bob died. Bob died. Bob was dead and she couldn't move to Maine now even if she wanted to. It was like a bomb went off and she was left to pick up the pieces of her life but she can't even manage to do that. 

At some point one of Will's drawings found its way to the refrigerator. "Bob Newby Superhero" it shouted at her every time she double checked the fridge for a Demogorgon in the middle of the night. 

Eventually, the days blurred into weeks so quickly that it was Thanksgiving before she knew it. Time is funny like that. Jonathan, of course, made all the sides and the only reason they ended up with a turkey is because Hopper had enough foresight to buy them one. 

Something about sitting down to holiday dinner with her boys finally snaps her out of her grief-fueled daze. And it's with a mix of horror and guilt that she realizes the only reason their house is still standing is because of Jonathan. But if he resents her at all it doesn’t show. 

Truthfully, she really doesn't remember much at all. It comes back in small flashes, Will seizing, Bob, Mike carrying Will out, Nancy stabbing him with a poker to get that thing out, but nothing ever sticks around long enough for her to make sense of any of it. 

The next morning, Will begged to go sledding with Mike, Lucas and Dustin like they do every Friday after Thanksgiving she cautiously caves. She made sure he packed his supercomm and sent Jonathan along with him for good measure. Which neither of them seemed too thrilled about but she's not about to let Will go off on his own. 

They're still gone when she gets home from work and she tries not to panic. It's only six or so, and sure the sun went down an hour ago but there could be a perfectly logical explanation as to why they're still out. She makes herself a leftover sandwich and picks at it while trying to find something to watch that isn’t the news. She doesn’t watch the news anymore. She’s about to give up and just go lay down when she hears Jonathan’s car pull up.Joyce doesn’t hear him turn off the car but a few minutes later  He unlocks the door and makes a beeline for his room. 

“Hello?” She calls out, confused by his odd behavior. 

“Oh uh hey” he responds walking back into the door frame of the living room.

Jonathan left the front door ajar and the wind blows in, she wraps a blanket around herself to try and warm back up. Her stomach suddenly churns. 

“Where’s Will?” she realizes

She envisions him crashing into a tree and bleeding out in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car 

“Oh I left him at Mike's” Jonathan explains.  

She stares at him wide-eyed. 

“I didn't think it was a big deal.” he mumbles, glancing down and up again.

“You couldn’t have asked first?” she cries a little too loudly

“I’m.. I’m sorry…. they were all just really excited and.. and I think Mike got some new video game but I’m picking him up in a couple hours” Jonathan reassures 

“A couple hours?” she presses, suddenly tense

“Yea” he shrugs.  

“What could possibly be so important that you need to be alone for that long?” she shrieks. 

Jonathan stares, then he starts getting well fidgety. He takes a couple of breaths trying to start talking and then stopping again. But the only noise is the drone of the tv, the car outside, and his fidgeting. She’s about to ask again, but she reminds herself to be patient while he finds his words. 

“I'm uh… Well I'm um…the thing is…” he stammers, nervously. 

The thing about Jonathan is that while he's just as earnest as Will, his thoughts are more like a puzzle or maybe a maze. Either way, it's… challenging for him to express himself as freely as Will does. And while Joyce really hates to think of him as the harder one to parent, right he's not making it any easier. She maintains eye contact and starts counting. If after fifteen seconds he doesn't say what he wants to she'll start asking leading questions. Gently coaxing him out of his shell. 

“I'm going out with Nancy” he spits out all at once when he’s almost lost her attention. 

“Nancy?” she asks

“Yea” he nods 

“Nancy Wheeler?” she questions slowly, making sure that they’re on the same page. 

“Yea, Nancy Wheeler” he says softly with a smile. 

It’s not that she doesn’t like Nancy, not in the slightest but well the two of them are an odd pair. When she found them together last year it made a little bit of sense, what with everything else going on. But she’s really not sure what the two of them are doing hanging out without a threat of monsters. At least she hopes there’s no threat of monsters. Jonathan’s still rocking on his heels in the doorframe waiting for her to say something.

“Well have fun” she resigns, because she has so many questions but no idea where to start. 

“Thanks… uh I gotta go, she's waiting for me.” he informs 

“Waiting for you?” she asks 

“Yea uh in my car” he answers 

“Your car?” she blinks at him

“Yea” 

“You left her in the car?”

“Yea” 

Leaving Nancy Wheeler in the car in the dead of winter, what is he thinking? It’s not like him to be inconsiderate. 

“Jonathan” she scolds “Let her know she can come in next time” 

“Right, right yea I will” he nods, making his way back out of the house as quickly as he came in. 

[sneakydraws]

i wanna see fifty five goldfinch pieces 💔💔

OKAY!! So I have this little series I like to call the great decompartmentalisation of Theo decker... Let me walk you through it. I promise there's art after the massive paragraph of meandering analysis alright

You know how Theo's life is segmented into these distinct episodes? And how he himself is split into multiple different identities, and how much shame and fear there is associated with the idea of those identities mixing? For example: the straight a student living a completely, delusionally idyllic life with his adoring mother and the vanilla teenage troublemaker breaking into people's summer homes with his shady homoerotic bestie. When the two identities come into contact via his suspension, it leads to the most traumatic event in Theo's life, and honestly I suspect that might be the origin of this tendency towards compartmentalisation... I could go through the whole book here but the most prominent examples are Theo panicking at the thought of Mrs Barbour or his therapist finding out about Hobie, his cutting himself off from New York when in Vegas with his other shady homoerotic bestie (the amount of times Vegas is compared to an alien planet...) and his dual post timeskip identifies of charming antiques salesman/fraudulent art stealing junkie. And this often manifests in Theo's reluctance to let people from his different periods interact - see him rushing to stop Boris from talking to Pippa, and him keeping Hobie in the dark about the blackmail, and isn't it kind of weird that the barbours - Theo's soon to be legal family - don't really interact with Hobie and Pippa? Anyway. Basically I thought it would be cool to make a series of little vignettes of theo allowing the people and places and things that represent various versions of Him to interact and thus symbolically healing the disconnected parts of himself... Or something. I have more ideas scribbled down but somehow the only ones I ended up with proper art for is the various holidays (which, holidays are also a weirdly prevalent theme in tgf? Idk whats up with that but it's a good tool for this purpose) so we have:

Christmas Eve at Boris's, featuring Pippa and Hobie - I feel kinda bad for only ever portraying Boris with polish customs but let's be real I'm just using him to show off my own heritage lol. In Poland the main Xmas celebrations happen on Xmas Eve, traditionally with the appearance of the first star in the sky. You eat the mostly inoffensive barszcz as well some truly vile shit, such as mushroom and cabbage dumplings, mushroom and cabbage salad, other items made of mushrooms and cabbage, and finally the most disgusting dish of my life: Jewish style carp. No, it's not quite the same thing as gefiltefish, although that's the Wikipedia page you might use to get to the actual dish. All washed down with compote which I hate. You also break and eat communion wafers while wishing each other stuff, which Pippa is doing with popchyk here hehe

Christmas breakfast as a little bonus despite it not having much of a tradition - I associate it with lots of hams/cured meats, gherkins and maybe Tatar sauce (yum). Much superior to the Xmas dinner imho. Really I just wanted Theo and Boris to have a moment to themselves haha

Christmas proper at the barbours, featuring Boris and Tom cable! I could talk about all the tension and who's diffusing it but honestly I think y'all can draw your own conclusions lol. I just think it would be really funny for the infamous dis-engaged couple to each bring their delinquent boytoys and for Boris the drug dealer to actually come out looking superior

Vegetarian friendly Thanksgiving at Hobie's, as tradition requires! I think he'd love to throw one of his big Thanksgiving parties purely for all of Theo's families to get to know each other... you know, kind of an elaboration on that Thanksgiving illustration I drew a while back! This would be before all the Christmases I think. Boris is winning Mrs Barbour over with his roguish charm lol I think old ladies would like him... Theo in the corner freaking the hell out as per this project's mission statement lmao

And on a slightly different note I wanted Theo Pippa and Hobie to all visit weltys grave. I'm borrowing slightly from the polish tradition of all saint's day, when you clean, decorate and light candles on the graves of loved ones.

[werewolfsister]

THE ULTIMATE OCTOBER BUCKET LIST

Just in case you’re looking for something to do this spooky season, look no further! Please submit suggestions and additions if you have them 🎃

SEPTEMBER 1ST

Begin reading A Night in the Lonesome October, by Roger Zelazney

Choose an Inktober Challenge

OCTOBER 1st-31st

Put together a scary playlist, or check out a pre-made one! ( https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKkteYcz3WqtSTWxrid5ioJMJGLZGsZnj&feature=shared )

Go to a haunted house

Have a festive fall drink—pumpkin spice latte, Halloween-inspired cocktail, apple cider?

Watch a scary movie—like Get Out, Psycho, or Hereditary

Watch a Halloween special— like It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

Go to a Halloween/scary movie trivia night

Order a Halloween or fall themed mystery/subscription box

Bake Halloween cookies

Go on a ghost tour

Attend a dumb dinner

Buy your Halloween décor

Decorate the house

Compete in a costume contest

Buy Halloween candy

Pick your pumpkins

Carve your pumpkins

Burn a campfire

Tell scary stories

Read some scary stories—like H.P. Lovecraft, Steven King, or Anne Rice

Get lost in a corn maze

Visit a graveyard

Go apple picking

Visit a fall festival

Send old-timey Halloween postcards

Go on a hayride

Do a pumpkin-head photoshoot

Visit a Halloween attraction or theme park—like Halloweentown, OR; or Disneyland, CA

Take a walk to crunch fall leaves

Drive through town and play Halloween decoration bingo

Attend Oktoberfest

Listen to a horror podcast— like The Magnus Archives or Sherlock Holmes Radio Mysteries

Watch a spooky play—like the Rocky Horror Picture Show or Little Shop of Horrors

Watch some haunting cartoons—like Spooky Month or Villainous (Villanos)

Giant pumpkin regatta/race

Go to some Museum/Zoo Halloween events

Stay overnight in a haunted hotel—like the Skirvin Hotel, OK; or the Overlook Hotel, OR

Get the latest Pokemon Trick or Trade Halloween card packs

Visit a Hot Topic or other ghoulish store

Go ghost hunting

Vote in Katmai National Park’s Fat Bear Week! ( https://explore.org/fat-bear-week )

Go on a costumed bar crawl

Play a scary videogame—like Cry of Fear or Resident Evil

Play a scary boardgame—like the JAWS boardgame, Shaky Manor, or Betrayal at House on the Hill

Take a (respectful!) tombstone rubbing

Draw for Inktober

Do an old-timey lover’s Halloween premonition

Visit a creepy museum exhibit—like the Museum of Death, CA; or the Jack the Ripper Museum, London

Get a tarot reading or some palmistry

Attend a séance

Try out a Zombie Run or Zombies vs Humans

Enjoy Samhain traditions

Visit a spooky person’s grave—like Lovecraft’s in Providence, RI; or the Paris Catacombs, Paris

Go on a nighttime nature walk and spot some creepy critters—maybe an owl!

Do some history of Halloween research

Make fall themed crafts

Go on a labyrinth walk

Dress up your pets for a photoshoot or a pet parade

Play a trick on someone

Trick or treat!

Hand out candy!

NOVEMBER 1ST- 3RD

Halloween decorations clean up!

Eat your candy!

Celebrate Dias de los Muertos

Do some calavera painting

Put up an Ofrenda/altar

Enjoy a little ancestor remembrance

Walk in a Dias de los Muertos parade

Put up marigolds and other décor

Go to a church service

If you’re crazy, start putting up the Christmas decorations <.< (we all know you gotta wait until at least Thanksgiving!!!)

[themurderofcrowscollective]

The best times of the Batfamily.

I can't draw for shit but I can describe to great detail of something I have in my mind, and right now, I'm thinking of wholesome shit again. - Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian falling into a waterfall together with Jason holding Damian and Tim by the waist in both of his arms like sacks of potatoes. There's a look of clear fear and horror on Tim's face, Damian is surprisingly laughing and Dick is pulling a pose in mid-air. - Cass, Steph and Barbara having a girls' night while the men are away. Steph is singing her heart out with a karaoke machine, Cass is clapping along and Barbara is laughing because fun. - Bruce and Damian playing the violin together. Damian is focused but he can't help but smile while Bruce is smiling a lot more. Alfred is glad that the two have something to do together than just be Batman and Robin. - Cass dancing with Dick while Tim plays the piano. It's great to watch too. - Halloween Dinner. A feast where everyone is dressed in their halloween costumes, eating food that is themed to look like brains and eyeballs which happens right before the Wayne kids unleash hell upon the city of Gotham. It's never a dull night on Halloween. And yes, Bruce dresses up but not as Batman, he tends to pick the Headless Horseman sometimes. - Thanksgiving Shenanigans. Before the actual feast, the kids go out to goof off and destroy Dick's piles of autumn leaves. Dick has a face of 'why? every year?' before he gets dragged into the pile. There's also a picture of Jason dumping leaves out of his helmet onto an unexpecting Damian who's reading. - Movie night with Tim, Jason and Duke. An unexpected trio but they do like their comedies and animated movies. There's also always an insane amount of popcorn. - Alfred catching Tim, Cass and Damian in the middle of the night with bags worth of food and snacks. They were sneaking back in after everyone went to sleep, but Alfred kept their secret. - Jason reading with Damian in the library. Bruce joins them a few minutes later with cups of tea and some snacks. Perfect reading session. - The Wayne family visiting the Kent family. Ma and Pa talk with Alfred, Clark and Bruce talk amongst themselves while the batkids are having fun or talking. Damian is in heaven with the many cows around him. - The night after a long day. Everyone is asleep together in a pile, even including Bruce. Alfred also dozed off on one of the couches. - Tim, Cass and Steph performing a ritual with coffee beans, coffee mugs and coffee pots with a Damian in the center. They were trying to exorcise him but he wasn't having any of it. Jason is in the background with a tub of grounded coffee beans, eating it with a spoon, and Dick is laying face-first on the ground. Duke is nowhere to be seen. This is what happens when you leave the house to the kids for a week. Alfred went with Bruce for a trip, by the way.

[mattypattypinky]

🎀Vector Holiday Head Canon's🎀

He LOVES halloween,

most years he goes trick or treating. If he were to hand out candy I feel like if they knocked at his door he'd be like "Trick" and steal kids candy 😭😭😭

He'd love couples costumes. He'd do god awful ones, Like ketchup and mustard - or peanut butter and jelly, or Velma and someone else from the mystery gang. (He'd wanna be Velma. He'd wear the skirt and everything.)

Sometimes he has goofy halloween costumes but occasionally he'd use a actually scary costume. He'd scare kids for fun during halloween.

I feel like he'd dress up as other villains for halloween especially big ones he looks up too. (He dressed up as Megamind once and put on a bald cap and everything.)

He'd decorate the outside of his fortress and his living room depending on the holiday.

During christmas he'd have a ton of lights, and little yard decorations. He'd also decorate his security system depending on the holiday. His lasers have christmas hats on them. His lasers are red and green so if you get laser-ed to death it would be festive colors 🎊!!!

He'd have celebratory music in his yard and around his fortress, depending on what holiday it is. It'd be loud and obnoxious. Everytime a neighbor steps outside they can hear jingle bells or kidnap mr sandy claws or something depending on the holiday and time.

He's definitely the type to buy cookies on Christmas, NOT for Santa, but for himself. The girls would think he's buying cookies for Santa but he's not. Even if Santa was real he wouldn't share with the guy. He'd be like "suck on this Santa" while he's eating the cookies😭

He might have specific outfits for different holidays.

During halloween he'd decorate a lot of jack-O-lanterns because they're orange (They're on brand.) He carves his Logo into them.

He wouldn't really celebrate Easter that much, he'd probably just buy Easter candy or draw. "The day that christ rose? Why do I care about Jesus"

He does the same thing he does to Santa to Jesus on easter.

He'd celebrate Yule, - He'd decorate with dried oranges.

He'd probably call his dad each holiday to wish him a good one. He'd also send his dad card and his dad would send him a gift or enclose money in the envelope even though they're both rich and don't need too😭.

He'd create robotic reindeer that attach to his flight machine. They probably also play christmas music, or make jingling noises when it flies. 😭 either that or he'd make a whole working Santa Sleigh-

He'd cosplay the grinch.

I feel like during different holidays he might scheme up some villain plan according to it. Like halloween he could steal some big halloween thing or decorations or he could steal kids candies 😭

he'd steal a 9ft tall giant skeleton from every yard he can find.

He'd be a big fan of The Grinch he'd probably aspire to be like him. He'd think he's a real villain. or was a real villain- I mean he stole from an entire town. When he watches any grinch movie he stops right after he gets all the gifts as he doesn't wanna watch the reformation scenes.

He'd wanna go and get a picture with mall Santa's. He'd wanna go sit in their lap despite being a full adult. He'd give them a list of things he wants.

"Okay, so, for Christmas this year, I want a new nuclear reactor, because my old one broke. And I want two pounds of uranium."

He thinks Thanksgiving is a bogus holiday, but he will use it as an excuse to eat a lot of food. But he wouldn't cook any of it, he'd order a massive dinner from some fast food and eat it all in one night. He'd get an extreme stomach ache and make himself really sick😭

You walk into the room and hes sprawled out on the couch with one hand on his stomach complaining about how he can't move and that it hurts😭😭😭

he's such a baby-😭

and if you offer him a solution he'd whine "Nooooo"'s.

On Valentines Day he'd cry about not having a partner, calling it a bogus holiday and he'd use it as an excuse to eat alot of junk food. He'd watch a shark tale on Valentine's day......... 💀........... He'd also CRY to that movie. If he had a partner during Valentine's Day he'd make them watch it and he'd claim that Oscar and Angie are "So us" just ignoring the fact that Oscar nearly cheats on Angie TWICE 😭😭😭😭😞😞😞😞 He'd get a tummy ache from the chocolate.

He gets a stomach ache MOST holidays actually. They're a recipe for constipation. 😭😭😭😭 He complains for days afterwards.

He never learns😍😭

Fathers Day he'd hang out with his dad the entire day, if a partner wanted to hang out with him during that day, he'd insist they bring their dad too. It'd be like a double dad date. Or he'd try to share his dad if you don't have a dad or don't like yours. "It's okay, you can have mine!!! Have you seen the size of my dad? He could be like three families dads." 😭 He doesn't even mean it in a rude way either.

This isn't a holiday but he doesn't strike me as a morning person, so I feel like he'd disregard Daylight Savings. The world will bend to his schedule, he's not going to change his sleep patterns or his schedule for it.

He'd celebrate Earth Day but only because he cares about Sea Life and Littering

He'd love to celebrate Shark Week

On New Years he vows some crazy shit. "New Year New Me, I'm gonna stop eating so much Junk" then within an hour, or the next morning he's already ate a whole bag of chips and a soda. And he'd cry about it, too. He'd cry very hard.

He'd have a vendetta against April Fools, he's scared of being pranked so he locks himself in his Fortress. He'd be paranoid around even his partner. It'd be so funny to see him be so suspicious. Squinting his eyes and shit at them. 😭😭😭 He's expecting something, every turn he's expecting. Everytime he sits down he checks for whoopie cushions, and he'd check his partners hand for buzzers, and he'd be so paranoid about everything😭.

[mycrazylittleship]

How I think Slicemav are with presents. 🎁

Slider:

the most thoughtful person ever. He saw that you were upset and called up your mother, who forwarded the call to grandma to get her special cookie recipe to make you feel better. But within that call, he now has thanksgiving plans with your family and promised to take grandma out to the farmers market next week because she was shy; and he can’t have that, now can he!

Of course he can’t cook for shit, so he’s extra sweet to Ice and gives him a million kisses, asking politely for him to make the cookies. He tells him the entire story (every detail) and ice is so lost in the information that he gets a migraine. After some Tylenol and a nap, he’s more than happy to make those cookies.

Maverick:

does NOT know what to do with a present to save his life. He would be handed a present and start tearing up.

“It’s your birthday present!”

“I.. you already gave me mine?”

“??”

“Your hug?”

*melting*

But also, he’s so touched that you bought him something or made him something or whatever that he’s holding back tears, and is so careful about unwrapping it because “you went to all that trouble and it’s beautiful.”

Now, giving someone else a present? Asks what you want, gets it. He’s always listening and writes down things you’ve said you wanted. He likes the way people’s face light up when they see it.

Iceman:

somehow knows the perfect gift for everyone. King of gift giving. Of course, he’s all *chill* about it. Sometimes doesn’t even put his name as “from” and leaves it blank. Bradley thought Santa gave him all of his coolest presents at Christmas but it was Ice the whole time.

The navy thinks he’s cold and has no heart, but he knows every little thing about you. Slider still has yet to figure out how he does it, but every time he asks, ice just goes “I thought it was obvious?”

“Honey.. no.. it’s not. I had no idea Coyote baked?? No one did???” -mav

“When he gets stressed he pushes on his thighs like he’s kneading bread,” ice shrugs, “and If you’re ever seen him eat desert, you’d notice he’s very slow and takes the time to taste it. I’ve seen him write notes down.”

He is the Sherlock Holmes of the navy.

“But Phoenix never told anyone about wanting to learn to draw??” -Bradley

“She’s got that eye for detail,” ice shrugged, “I had a hunch.”

Everyone: shook

But let’s be honest, none of them want any gifts. The only gift is your love and time. Especially Ice, does not want gifts but is so grateful anyway. He’s much rather have you over for dinner; same with Slider. Affection is his gift.

[kayzig]

yea, if you eat (drink?) like that, your laundry bills are probably monstrous, Dracula.

Let me get real/sentimental with you guys for a moment and wax on why I chose Dracula for this specific week of November: in America, it's Thanksgiving Week! There's a lot of messed up historical shit tied to it but I try to take it at face value: this week I have a ridiculously big dinner with my family and be thankful for all I do have.

And this year, as a Dracula fan, Dracula Daily scratched an itch I have had since the start of the pandemic getting kind of rough: I started drawing my own weird little takes on the count himself, as both a weird shut-in, a weird vampiric wrestler, and just a fun design to doodle and keep as a comfort "blorbo" while times were rough. And now, even if I didn't have a lot of engagement with it directly from the canon, getting to see everyone's takes and memes and what-not with our friend, Dracula, and reliving the book, really did keep me pleasantly engaged all spring, summer and autumn, and I didn't even realize how much so, until November 7th and onward left me feeling just a little bit morose without it to look forward to.

so thank you: again, to Dracula Daily, and to all the Drac Enthusiasts who like this horrible undead man with me.

[tibby]

well hello… I am but a humble jigsquad Guy thinking about… Amanda. so if you have any thoughts on uhhh mandy and small soft acts of kindness headcanons… that is all Thank U Sm…

i've been talking to my friends about mandy a lot these past few days so you're in luck! all of these are in jigsquad verse, because of course, and feature various dynamics:

amanda has a lot of food insecurity because she's spent most of her life never knowing if the next meal was guaranteed, so when they all go out to dinner she orders more food than she can eat at the time and brings home all her leftovers. she gets her own little fridge for them and the rest of her food.

the first time anybody really celebrates her birthday with her is when she turns thirty, and the guys make her a cake and give her gifts and lynn texts her to wish her a happy birthday too. it's A Lot and she gets pretty emotional and overwhelmed, and at first she's like What The Fuck Is This. but she's loved and safe and happy, and it's times like this when adam has his arm around her shoulder and he's teasing her for getting old (and god, she never thought she'd make it to thirty), that she's able to forget all the horrible things they've had to do for her to have this.

amanda loves to go with lawrence on his weekly grocery shop. it again feeds back into her food insecurity and having the comfort and security to know that she CAN get everything she wants and doesn't have to choose between crackers or cereal to survive off for the next week...it's nice. she gets to spend time with lawrence too which she enjoys more than she's willing to admit.

she has a photo adam took of them all at christmas wearing stupid matching sweaters (amanda and mark grumbled about it but adam is very persistent when he wants to be annoying and lawrence was like Yes Of Course My Darling <3 so they really had no choice) stuck to the wall next to her bed. other stuff is there too: her picture of venus, a napkin from the time she and adam were waiting for the others to arrive at dinner and they tried to draw out a graph to figure out the "mark the weird freak serial killer vs mark the normal-ish guy" math, the torn out cover of a cd booklet from a band that daniel matthews told her about, a pokemon card that diana gave her during one of lawrence's custody weekends. the note from a bouquet of flowers lynn sent her that reads can you please be a little more normal about this stuff? because of the time amanda broke in to leave some flowers on lynn's coffee table.

(amanda breaking into lynn's place to leave lynn gifts is a recurring them, much to lynn's dismay. she'll come home to an envelope of sexy amanda pictures on her bed (taken by adam. what's a few nudes between besties?) and be turned on, but also stand there wondering why amanda has to keep breaking in. it’s just weird.)

amanda doesn't really know what to do when in the presence of diana and corbett (especially as the girls get older and begin to wonder about the things their parents get up to) but she's sweet to them and lets diana paint her nails and buys corbett stuffed toys and leaves pastries for her and lynn whenever she does her old b&e routine.

amanda awkwardly tries to be a mentor to daniel after nerve gas house even though a. she's in no position to mentor anyone about anything ever and b. she played a role in the disappearance/murder of his father. he’s a smart kid so he knows that she’s definitely involved in the jigsaw killings but he also knows that amanda has been through hell and tried to keep him & laura safe and was genuinely distraught by everything xavier did, plus he’s able to understand that his father was the reason amanda began down this path in the first place. so he doesn’t turn her in, and she checks in on him occasionally after everything. invites him to thanksgiving and makes sure he’s staying out of trouble and is like “if you need anything, i have a doctor friend who can help you out” (lawrence is not aware of this). they talk music and she brings him mcdonalds and it's weird and uncomfortable but much like with lynn, daniel knows that amanda is trying.

one of her hobbies is sending hoffman fake news articles from websites like truesciencefax dot org and seeing what he'll believe.

fucking with hoffman generally speaking is one of her favourite things to do, but on the anniversary of angie's death she steals him a pack of cigarettes and her and adam will hang out with hoffman at the house all day to make sure he doesn’t fall back on drinking or get so depressed he starts massacring people. and they just kinda watch movies hoffman likes (top gun, the princess bride, air bud) and let him talk about his dead sister uninterrupted. and the three of them suck at emotions but it’s Enough and lawrence brings home pizza for dinner. something something mark hating amanda at first because angie was dead and here was this junkie, similar to angie in age and appearance and wasting her fucking life. but eventually it turning into “i couldn’t save angie but i can save amanda” something something.

amanda is used to running, to leaving before you get left. and lynn understands this without amanda having to voice it (because really, she never would anyway), and so she doesn't let it eat her alive when amanda keeps leaving her bed before the sun is up. she knows that she has to wait for amanda to come to her. that one day, she'll wake up, and amanda will be fast asleep beside her, dark hair littered with hazel flecks in the morning sun, a rare look of calm on her face. she just has to wait for the day amanda recognises her as a safe place to land.

[riddle-me-ri]

Hey I loved your 2022!Oz dating headcanon, I was wondering if you could write how Oz and Reader would be like together during thanksgiving or Halloween?

A/N: Heyo! I'm so glad you loved my headcanons. And of course, that sounds like such fun! I'm sorry I went sorta crazy for Halloween a lot of ideas kept coming out and I struggled to reign them back in lol. Also, I wasn't sure if you meant headcanons or drabbles, so I just stuck with headcanons. If you want drabbles instead please don't hesitate to let me know! Thanks so much for your request! I hope you enjoy~

Farrell!Penguin x Reader on Thanksgiving/Halloween Headcanons

Thanksgiving:

Oswald never really cared for holidays in the traditional sense. He only cared in terms of how his club was gonna turn out. A lot of loners flock to the Iceberg Lounge to forget their loneliness (meanwhile a lot of family men flood 44 Below to forget the pressures their family relationships bring)

But when he’s with you, he finds another reason to enjoy them. It’s a chance to spend sometime with you. 

For Thanksgiving, if you enjoy cooking, Oswald will make it a point that every Thanksgiving he will set aside the evening to eat Thanksgiving dinner with you. It’s up to you whether you let him help you or not. It took a lot just to convince him you enjoy cooking and that it’s not a chore. You want to do it to show how thankful you are to have him. 

He loves seeing you all dressed in an apron, plain white shirt and sweat pants. Singing along to some song on the radio as your busy cooking in the kitchen. It makes him feel at home, he can drop the weight he burdens on his shoulders and be with you. 

If you don’t cook, you best believe Oswald already has alternate plans. The best seats to your favorite restaurant in town and if they’re closed— well they’re no, they are not..Oz will make sure of it. 

Even though you two have dinner almost every other night together, Thanksgiving is a little different. You both get to sit and reminisce on your time together, all your trials and tribulations, the laughs and smiles, the highs and lows. They’re all worth it for these moments together. 

Halloween:

Halloween should be a national holiday, atleast for Gotham. Oswald expects his club, both the Iceberg Lounge and 44 Below to be crawling with freaks, crooks, colorful characters and everyone in between, moreso than usual. Plus he has to stay more vigilant if someone decides to cause too much trouble.

You’re aware of Ozzie’s need to stay at his club for the holiday, but that doesn’t mean you can’t join in on the fun in your own ways. 

If you’re not into the night life or the vibrant club scene. You’re content with staying home until Oz feels it’s safe to get away. You enjoy seeing all the children’s costumes when they come to knock on your door or as you see them walk down the sidewalks. 

Ozzie is calling you constantly to make sure you’re safe and sound. There’s more crazies out on Halloween than any other night, and he’d rather they all be at his club than anywhere near you. You constantly have to reassure him you’re okay, and that you’re waiting for him patiently.

When he does finally come home, you are quick to hug him and start helping him unwind. Halloween was always a stressful time. You’re quick to draw a bath for the two of you, alongside a bowl of candies for the two of you to share while you pamper him. If nothing else, Halloween is a big turn out for the Iceberg Lounge and a chance for you to spoil your man.   

However, if you are comfortable with the club scene, you best believe you’ll be at the Iceberg Lounge yourself with Ozzie. You have already made several appearances at the club, most likely everyone knows you. They also know your Ozzie’s and if they dare look at you the wrong way they’re dead. 

One year you went for a penguin-like costume. You wore a skintight full-body suit that had the feather patterns of an emperor penguin, even with a little tail feather on the back. The long sleeves of the suit curved at the end to look like flippers, with a tiny zipper on the edge so you could get your hands out. 

When you show up, Oz is absolutely tickled at your costume this year. He laughs full-heartedly as he pats his knee for you to sit on. He grins up at you with pride as he wraps his arm around your waist. Needless to say, he adores your costume. 

You always look gorgeous no matter what you dress up as, but the fact you dressed up as his moniker he can’t help but boast in pride and fall just that much more in love with you. You definitely make this hectic holiday easier on the old bird.

[dear-wormwoods]

Happy New Year!

I know I haven’t been posting much lately, but I do like to write something every year on New Year’s Eve so I can look back on things if I want to in the future.

So 2023 was a pretty awesome year for me, to be honest. I really didn’t accomplish any of my goals from my last New Year’s post, except for continuing my Duolingo streak, but you know what? It’s totally fine. I set myself back financially and made no progress on getting in shape, but I had a lot of fun!! And that’s really what this year, particularly this summer, was about.

Travel Highlights:

Went to Colorado in June/July, had an amazing spa day and fancy dinner on my birthday, did a bunch of really cool hikes and took a ton of photos, had more fancy dinners, saw 4th of July fireworks over the Denver skyline, went to museums including the Molly Brown house and the best prehistoric exhibit I’ve ever seen, saw moose and elk, and generally had the best time ever.

Visited my aunts in North Carolina for the first time, and had a great time. They convinced me to treat myself while we were at a real jewelry store so I got myself some diamond earrings. Because why the hell not? I’m an adult with a salary, and I don’t need to save or put toward bills every penny I make.

Went to Ocean City in Maryland for the first time as well, which was a ton of fun even though I’m not the most beachy person ever. Ate crabs, got wasted, rode rides, saw wild horses, and then afterward went to Hershey Park which was also a lot of fun and had great roller coasters!

Went to Colorado AGAIN spur of the moment in November because we finally got invited to go to Casa Bonita. So we did that, of course, went on an awesome winter hike in RMNP, got massages, and had a fancy dinner at a Chianti event in Denver.

I also went to a few shows this year:

Iron & Wine in July which is definitely a highlight of the year because he is my favorite musician and I’d never seen him before. Super intimate acoustic show so I didn’t get any pics or videos but I’ll remember it forever, especially that he played my favorite song!

Modest Mouse, Lord Huron, and a bunch of smaller bands at a two day festival in August. Such a fun time, and both headliners were SO good. Lord Huron is a newer find, but I’ve been listening to Modest Mouse for over a decade and never saw them live!

Death Cab for Cutie and The Postal Service in September, for the 20th Anniversary Transatlanticism and Give Up tour. This was my second time seeing Death Cab but this show was special because both bands played those two albums in full, and Transatlanticism is one of my favorite albums ever.

Other cool things:

Went to a fancy tea room in Boston.

Saw Titanic in theaters TWICE during the 25th anniversary rerelease.

Saw a queer comedy show.

Practiced drawing more, but not as much as I’d like.

Went to the gym slightly more consistently.

Cooked some great meals.

Started writing a fanfic I love, which I truly do intend to finish!

Went on a couple of writing weekend trips to Maine which did of course include lobster and a dessert bar.

Had many snuggles with my cats.

Made sweet desserts for my family’s Thanksgiving and Christmas get togethers.

Played a billion hours of The Sims, and took hundreds of screenshots for my save’s very extensive family tree.

Cut down on waitressing hours at the expense of my savings account so I can have weekends back and not burn out so easily.

Other than all that, I went to work and that was fine, tried dating a few times but nothing panned out, and just kind of hung out and did my thing most days.

Huge shout out to @terieri who not only is my travel buddy, but also willingly came to all those concerts, and is the only person who is as invested in my Sims lives as I am! This year would have been super lame without her.

2023 was all about having fun, exploring, doing new things, and eating great food. It gave me a lot of memories and while I know I won’t be able to afford having another year like this for some time, hopefully I can make 2024 pretty great too!

I hope you all have a wonderful night doing whatever you choose to do on New Year’s Eve, and that 2024 starts off amazingly for you all. For myself, I like to get takeout and play video games so that’s what I’m going to do.

❤️

[scarlet-bee]

[ID: A digital drawing, with the words "Happy Thanksgiving!" written at the top. Below the words is a person with a light skin tone. Her brown hair is long and wavy, and she wears glasses.

The person's eyes are closed, as she smiles with her mouth open. She is making a heart shape with her hands. End ID.]

(I used she/her because I assume the person in the drawing is you, feel free to correct me if I got anything wrong!)

Thank you!! Sorry I got to this so late! I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving anymore, but I still really appreciate this! :) [smiling face emoticon]

(The next few paragraphs aren't aimed at you specifically, just Americans who celebrate Thanksgiving in general.)

Admittedly, I'm not very educated on the actual history of Thanksgiving (AKA the full story, not just the version they teach us in school). However, I have read some about it, and I've seen Native Americans speak on how they feel about the holiday, which is enough to make me not want to support it anymore. I don't want to celebrate a holiday that originated from colonization and genocide, regardless of how much we try to seperate it from that origin.

I do still eat Thanksgiving dinner with my family (out of fear of how they'd react if I refused to take part), but I pretty much just think of it as a regular meal. I do acknowledge that I'm still technically taking part in the celebration, though, and it's on me that I haven't gotten the courage to speak up about it to my family yet.

I can't tell anyone to stop celebrating (I'd be a hypocrite if I did, and I obviously can't control what other people do), but I do urge my fellow Americans to learn more about the history behind Thanksgiving, listen to Native Americans about the topic, and make your own decision based on that knowledge. I recommend this post as a starting point.

Most importantly, we need to listen to and support Native Americans and other Indigenous people all year round, not just on days like Thanksgiving and Columbus Day. We need to keep working to educate ourselves, listen to Indigenous people, boost their voices, and support them monetarily when we're able to.

(Back to talking to just you now!)

This probably wasn't the response you were expecting, haha. I know you were just trying to wish me a happy holiday, so I kind of didn't want to be a "downer," but I wouldn't have felt right posting something about Thanksgiving without acknowledging all of this. Like I said, though, I do really appreciate the thought behind this! It's nice that you thought of me, and it always makes me happy when people draw things for me! Thanks again for the well wishes and for the art!! <3 [heart emoticon]

[howdydopillar]

here thanksgiving treat from me too >:] (biscuits are like. the sole reason I look forward to it bc my uncle makes really good biscuits. well biscuits and mac and cheese. I don't really like any other "traditional" thanksgiving foods)

HEYYY!! Thanks for the thanksgiving treat too!! The more the merrier!!

(funny enough, I’m a HUGE fan of biscuits, I just wanted to draw my yo-kai sona being absolutely amazed by how they look since they’ve never really tried them!)

(Personally I look forward to eating the turkey during the Thanksgiving dinner since my eldest brother always makes the meanest turkey ever! I tend to eat it like I’ve never ate anything in my entire life before, that’s just how great he makes it!)

[ireadyabooks]

5 Characters You Should Absolutely Be Inviting to Your Friendsgiving!🍂🦃

As Thanksgiving draws closer, you might be meticulously planning your Friendsgiving celebration to spread a little bit of thankfulness to your inner circle. Everything down to the guest list and menu is crucial. You may be cooking everything yourself, so you want the perfect group of guests present to appreciate your delicious hard work. Perhaps, like me, you’re asking your invitees to help out and bring a dish of their own, which also means you get a taste of everyone’s favorite Thanksgiving meals. Don’t forget about the guest list here, too—we wouldn’t want your friend who can’t cook to save their life being in charge of anything but the drinks. Well, I’m here to give a little insight into which of our favorite book characters might be the perfect guests to include in your Friendsgiving plans this year.

Georgia from Loveless

Georgia is the perfect friend to have at your Friendsgiving to make sure everyone in the room feels included. She’ll most likely be making the rounds, checking in on everyone, and providing any form of support she can. What a warm way to celebrate with friends!

Find out more about Georgia in Loveless by Alice Oseman!

Athan from Beholder

Athan will be the person at your Friendsgiving who just oozes that cool, calm, and collected energy. Getting stressed about overcooking the turkey? Athan will be there to provide a cheeky little flirt that puts your mind at ease.

Find out more about Athan in Beholder by Ryan La Sala!

​​Mallika from Rosewood

Don’t even stress about the decoration portion of your Friendsgiving because Mallika will be there before everyone else to help you expertly decorate! There’s no doubt that she’ll also have you talking about your most recent relationship in the process, providing the best advice you’ve heard in a while.

Find out more about Mallika in Rosewood by Sayantani DasGupta!

Thalia from Shadow Coven

If you’re worried about preparing the perfect drink choices AND the perfect dinner spread, Thalia is your gal! She’ll show up with the best mocktail you’ve ever had in your life. It doesn’t hurt that she’ll also most likely use her herbal expertise to add a little spice to your dishes—something your guests will appreciate, too.

Find out more about Thalia in Shadow Coven by S. Isabelle!

Maisie from Stars in Their Eyes

Worried about things getting too boring or the conversation being too dull? Well, worry no more because Maisie is pulling up to Friendsgiving with the perfect trivia game for everyone to play. And she’ll be able to provide you with all the fresh updates about this year’s Fancon!

Find out more about Maisie in Stars in Their Eyes by Jessica Walton and Aśka!

Bonus: Oliver from Heartstopper

If you're a fan of the Hearstopper-verse, then I'm sure you're a fan of Oliver Spring, Charlie's rambunctious and goofy little brother. While it's quite clear that this younger sibling won't be contributing much to the dinner table, I'm sure plenty of laughs will be made over numerous rounds of Mario Kart. It's the perfect way to relax after eating some good food!

Find out more about Oliver in This Winter by Alice Oseman!