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syoddeye · 24 days

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useless, part three

Part three (and the finale!) of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. As a reminder, I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. I finally used my third prompt.

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

66. Price or Reader is auctioned off for a date as part of a fundraiser

cw: one pregnancy mention (Reader does not get pregnant, has never been pregnant)

Read Part One, Part Two. Tag list: @v1x3n @kiranezra

~4.2k words, Price x f!Reader. This is the most self-indulgent shit I've written in awhile. Please enjoy.

It's past midnight when you limp through the front door of your flat, dropping belongings and articles of clothing alike, shedding both the weight of personhood and your eighteen-hour day. You set your keys down on the end of the counter, ignoring the thin folder for the umpteenth time. James will undoubtedly text about it in the morning, his patronizing messages more reliable than any alarm clock. A half-hour commute home, and you didn't even glance at your phone in fear of accidentally seeing another email from his lawyer. Solicitor. Whatever.

Hamhock slinks out from his lair beneath the bed, weaving between your ankles when you drag yourself into the bathroom.

"Hello Hammy," You whisper, eyeing the newer crop of gray hairs near your roots with a weary neutrality. Definitely the fundraiser's fault. Your hair started to change long before this year's planning began, but this is the longest period you've gone without dyeing it. One thing to thank James for. Not only did his departure give you a crystal clear focus, it freed you from his ridiculous expectations. He'd've commented the moment he spotted the wisps of silver, then casually worked something like anti-aging cream into the conversation.

The prick poisoned the well, and now the only man in the world for you currently lies at your feet. How it should've been from the start, really.

After checking the orange menace's automatic feeder, you slip into bed, allow him to assume his nocturnal throne—your armpit—and plug your phone in one-handed. Your eyes glaze over at the sight of notifications, thumb swiping by muscle memory, and set an alarm. With two weeks left until the big day and more than a hundred unsold tickets, you need every moment you can get. You sigh, counting the tasks of the day ahead instead of sheep.

You'll sign the divorce papers tomorrow.

Naomi practically forces the granola bar into your hands. The assistant stage manager and the props lead—the younger woman is the glue to your glue. A newer fixture at the Bramble Theatre, she was you to an extent, maybe a decade ago: fresh-faced, eager, and optimistic.

"I didn't like how you were looking at the wax fruit."

"We should swap the oranges for plums. Or pears."

"We've been through this. The oranges fit the palette, from the paintings to Dotty's–oh, quit pulling my leg."

You grin, then jut your chin at the stack of slips in her hand. "Are those the waivers? Did all the volunteers sign?"

"Yes, I can post headshots today on socials, so that should boost sales."

"Good. That's one fire extinguished," Rubbing your temple, you lean back in your chair. "I feel gross about it, though. I mean, we run shows that are hundreds of years old, but a date auction? Why don't we raise a guillotine out front and sacrifice effigies to raise money?"

Naomi blinks and whips out her phone. "...Okay, one, I'm noting the effigy idea for next year, but two, the auction won the vote, and everyone participating volunteered."

You grimace. "I know, it's just–"

The sudden opening of the door to your shoebox office interrupts. Theodore, business manager, director, and occasional movement coach, bursts in. Everybody's a multi-hyphenate.

"Terrible news!"

Wonderful. A new fire. You squint, chewing, and watch Naomi try to stifle a laugh valiantly. "Whatever could this be about?"

The older man slams his palms onto your desk, his layered pendants tinkling. "I've punched the numbers, including a best scenario, stars aligning–"

"Teddy. Out with it."

"–we're going to be £40,000 short. Even if we sell out, even if we raffle off the company like cattle, we are circling the drain!"

The tired amusement leaves your body, and in its wake sits a five-digit number and the distant idea to schedule a salon appointment.

The annual fundraiser for the theater, your hard-won home, is a dramatic, demanding, and near-disastrous event every year. The theater has continuously operated a hair above the red, but the laundry list of expenses from the last year cannot be ignored. The new light rig, the stage flooring replacement, the curtain repairs—they never stop. Sponsors and grants only go so far.

Originally, you took this job for its laughable but slightly higher pay and because running around like a madwoman between four gigs at a time wasn't as thrilling or charmingly bohemian as it was in your twenties. Your livelihood depends on the playhouse's success. And the economy. And the general public's attitude toward the arts. All wildly variable. It made you resourceful, and already, you were composing a mental list of people to politely bully for pledges promised in years past. You need time and a phone charger.

"Teddy," you set the half-eaten granola bar down. "Go get ready for afternoon rehearsal. Naomi, cover for me today?"

"'Course."

Theodore swipes his spindly fingers over his brow, nodding fervently at your resolve. "If anyone can pull it off, it's you. Do tell if there is anything yours truly can do." With a flourish, the director departs your office, but Naomi lingers.

"You know if it's donations we need…"

You shake your head, immediately knowing what she intends to suggest. "Out of the question."

"But think of her–"

"I'd rather debase myself and resort to dinner theatre."

"I'm just saying–"

"Naomi," You stress. "I am not calling my mother."

She frowns. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Are you really so proud you wouldn't leverage your family's connections to save the Bramble?"

It makes you pause. As usual, she's right. Irritatingly so. You could take another salary cut, but you'd need to find a flatshare, a humiliating idea. Hammy wouldn't survive it, the sensitive thing. You sigh and dismiss her with a wave.

"Fine I won't rule it out. But I'm going to shake down half the city first."

An hour later, you've managed to secure a percentage. Not too shabby, but far from the goal. You take a break to read James's team's latest, vaguely threatening missives and entertain the idea of withholding your signature until he makes a donation. What's a little extortion in the name of art?

You know it's wrong to delay this ugly process. How close relief is should you simply sign the papers. But it's another failure, another black spot in your life's ledger. Another dream crushed beneath the boot of reality. With a wave of bitterness, you type out a curt reply, ensuring you will sign the papers and ask them to arrange for a courier tomorrow.

Naomi's suggestion takes advantage of your mind's lethargy, testing the strength of your will and stubbornness. The last time you phoned your mother was months ago, on the anniversary of dad's death. The old man took his last bow five years back, and it destroyed the last bridge between you and your formidable mother. In retirement, she still holds court with major political players stateside…and across the pond.

Before you let your loathing catch up, you pull up her contact card and dial. It's after noon in D.C., the middle of the week. You might get lucky and reach her voice–

"Is everything alright? You're not in the hospital, are you?" Her donnish, sharp voice hurtles you through time and space to your teenage years.

"No," You answer with gritted teeth. A headache waits in the wings. "No, I'm fine, mom."

"Then why are you calling?"

This is why dad handled conversations. You stand, swiftly shutting the door to your office and locking it. "Can't I just call my mom?"

"Of course. Historically, you do not," There's a low murmur of chatter in the background. She's at a luncheon or at the club. "So I assume there is a reason."

Having an ex-ambassador for a mother is a joke. All that practised charm for everyone else in the world, none of it reserved for you. "Okay, yes, there is a reason."

"Thought so. Well, darling, what is it? Is it James? Don't tell me you're pregnant."

You return to your desk and eye the bottle of bourbon on the corner. "No. James and I are divorcing, remember? This is about my work."

There is no acknowledgement of the separation. Instead, your mother pulls the phone away from her mouth, excuses herself from wherever she is, and the background noise dissipates.

"Your work."

"Yes, the Bramble? Look, we're two weeks out from our big annual fundraiser, and–"

"Oh, you need me to write a check." The clicking of her heels halts abruptly, and if you didn't know any better, she wilts. "Fine. How much do you want?"

Your face heats with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "I am not asking for money. If you would stop interrupting me…Ugh, mom, I need help contacting some of your old friends here. If there's anyone you know looking for tax deductions or a pet project to brag about, the Bramble is in a bad spot financially."

In the past, whenever the theatre and, by extension, your chosen profession came up, your mother took the opportunity to lecture. She reminded you of the wasted opportunities she afforded you. She brought up your old schoolmates and their current positions. And most insulting of all, she always, always compared you to a certain soldier. Bracing yourself for her monologuing, you reached for the bottle.

"Why didn't you open with that, darling?"

Your fingers close around empty air, and you nearly pitch out of your seat in surprise. "What?"

"Send me the information. I've been meaning to reconnect with some old friends. When is the fundraiser?"

"In two weeks," You repeat, scrambling to pull up your email on the ancient desktop. "Tickets are–"

"Email it. I'll book my flights today and let you know when I'm getting in."

Your hands hover over the keyboard, and your neck protests the angle it bends to keep your phone lodged between ear and shoulder. "Oh, no, mom, you don't need to come."

"Nonsense. I'll, of course, make my own donation, and as a donor, I ought to see where my money is going."

Christ. For the Bramble, you remind yourself and exhale. "Okay. You do that. Listen, I have to get going…but mom?" It kills you to say it. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome. Oh, this will be so much fun. I haven't visited since before your father. You know, on the topic of reconnecting, I happened get an email from the Prices the other day, and John–"

There it is. You kick into fourth gear, rattling off your exit. "I've really got to run. Thanks again mom, send me your flight info. Love you. Bye!"

You feel like you've run a marathon and dodged a bullet. And yet, as you send the email and file the waivers, your mind snags on your mother's words. On a name. His name. It's not the first time your unhelpful brain's waylaid you with a trip down memory lane. Admittedly, it's happened more since James asked for the divorce. Most nights, if it isn't life's stresses hounding you, it's an endless parade of what-ifs behind your eyelids.

What if you studied economics instead? What if you stayed in America? What if you hadn't gone to that stupid New Year's party? What if you hadn't kissed John? If you didn't get on the train?

The people in your circle frequently speak about living life without regrets. It's a romantic notion and a highly unrealistic one.

Your phone buzzes—Naomi. You're needed. Pushing the past where it belongs, back on a dark shelf, and head out to put out another fire.

Three days before the fundraiser, your mother lands in London and hosts you at her hotel for dinner. Playing catch-up is a professional sport with a whirlwind of names you barely remember and memories you remember very differently.

You pick at dessert, listening to another story.

"–and he was so insistent that that school of yours was a breeding ground for monsters, and I told him, isn't that what's needed in today's society? People need thick skin in politics and business. You'll be happy to know, though, he bought four tickets to the fundraiser."

You don't remember who you're talking about but smile and nod. It's a tough pill to swallow, your mother's success at rallying old friends with deep pockets. Teddy's practically in love with her despite having never met her, popping his bald head into your office to sing her praises whenever another pledge arrives.

Your response is rote. "That's wonderful, mom. Thank you."

She prattles on for another half hour before you decide it's time to return home to Hamhock and burn the midnight oil on the fundraiser's date auction. You asked the company for fifty-word bios and actors, bless them, struggle to contain their self-praises. When she finally pauses to take a sip of wine, you rise. "I should head home, lots to do–"

Ignoring you outright, her head turns, and she grins. "There you are!"

Following her gaze, your brow lowers in confusion until you clap eyes on a trio headed in your direction in the company of a server. Very briefly, you consider the melodramatics of matricide. You've been set up.

Mr. and Mrs. Price look well for their age, puttering toward your mother. They are greyer and a little shorter, but the warmth is there.

John, however…

The universe is intent on humbling you.

The hair is the first thing you notice. Short, kempt, and annoyingly a dark shade of brown. It's crept southward onto his face in a beard of a choice style. There is comfort in the finer details that clarify as he nears. He hasn't escaped time's passing with a face marked by crow's feet, frown lines, and forehead furrows. Beneath his shirt, there's a slight suggestion of a belly, though, with his thick arms and the narrowing of his waist, he's clearly a wall of muscle.

The worst part is how infuriatingly kind his smile looks. It's the beard. Softens him. Once an arrogant prick, always an arrogant prick.

John rumbles your name in a whisper, reeling you in for a polite peck on the cheek. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

You're years beyond fifteen and twenty-five, but how swiftly the impulse to snark resurfaces is alarming. Maturity tempers you. "You look good, too."

After a few minutes of greetings, the two of you are tasked with heading to the bar to fetch drinks. Wholly unnecessary what with a server, but it's a clear command to let the 'adults' talk for a spell. Nevermind being shy of forty. John's quick to try conversation when the order's in.

"You haven't changed a bit," He observes, leaning against the bar beside you.

"Now there's something a woman wants to hear after a decade." You huff, casting your eyes across the restaurant, finding it difficult to look at him. The dark blue of his sweater makes his eyes pop.

"Fourteen years, actually," He corrects. "Drinking martinis, actin'…"

You snort. "You're half right. The Martini half."

His elbow gently knocks into yours atop the bar. "Apologies. My mother told me you'd been in My Fair Lady last summer."

That draws your attention. "No. The theater put it on, but I'm the stage manager. I haven't been on stage in ages." Your eyes flicker to the table, then back to him. Heat crawls up your collar. What other information has your mother passed along? Glancing down at your bare ring finger, you turn the conversation. "Not so different from a Captain, I reckon. How's that going?"

John squints a little, and his mouth pulls into a familiar smirk, tugging at old strings in your stomach. "Can't complain."

"Riveting stuff," He chuckles at that, a deep rasping sound, and you find yourself grinning. "Don't suppose that bit of clandestine, secret agent-type shit your mom's talked about?"

"Secret agent?"

"Yeah. Mentioned it in a Christmas card maybe three years ago?" You smile triumphantly into your glass. Seems both your mothers have a penchant for dressing up the truth.

His jaw works a tick, and something heavy passes behind his eyes. "Well, 'm not. Not exactly."

"Let me guess. If you told me, you'd have to kill me?"

He refocuses some, and a short laugh leaves him. "Something like that."

It's all painfully familiar, but it feels different with a little more life under your belt. His mere presence keeps you on your toes, yet you haven't felt this comfortable in months. For all the history and tension, talking to him is easy. A silence passes, the drinks arrive, and you ferry them to the table.

The night passes better than you expected when you first saw the Prices. They express belated condolences over your father, you chat about the fundraiser, and John politely navigates questions about his work. It frightens you when he briefly mentions Piccadilly to know he'd been there in the carnage. Part and parcel of military life, you guess.

"John, be a gentleman and walk her to the station," His mother chides as the five of you congregate in the hotel lobby.

"He doesn't need to do that," You hastily say. Not again.

"'Course."

There is something dreadfully giddy to how your parents wish you both goodnight.

At least you do not need to take his arm this time. Still, there is no way John isn't thinking about that night. Not when that look of quiet desperation he wore is seared within your memory. It's silly, but you peeked at his hands earlier, and like yours, they're naked.

You break the silence to fish. "How long are you on leave?"

"A week. Got in yesterday."

"Do you normally visit your parents?"

"Often."

Doesn't mean there isn't a woman in his life. 'Often' is not 'always'.

"Visit anyone else? Friends?"

He chuckles. "Sometimes."

You roll your eyes. "You know, you haven't changed much either. Aside from the beard and smoker's lung. Still a stunning conversationalist."

John smirks down at you. "Picked it up in the army."

Oh, yes. He remembers.

The conversation lulls, and the walk is short. You figure John's keen on a repeat when he wordlessly escorts you to the platform. But today's not a holiday, and the station is reasonably busy. He watches like a hawk, nonetheless, when you check the time.

"Brings back memories," He quietly comments.

Nodding, your thumb rubs where your wedding band used to rest. "Sure does." You respond and meet his gaze.

You studied theater, moved back to London, went to the party, and kissed John. You didn't regret those choices—only one.

The invitation flies out of you as your train emerges from the tunnel.

"Do you want to meet Hamhock?"

"He's…certainly orange."

"Don't rush to spend all your compliments at once," You glare, arms full of Ham, then coo at the cat. "John's jealous because he's going grey in the beard."

"I am not."

"Saw them on the Tube. Can't those from me," You tease and set the cat down, giving your kitchen a quick glance. A silver lining of work eating up your schedule is that you last cleaned two weeks ago, and it's held.

"What're those on your head then?" He gestures with a finger and toes off his shoes.

"Details of a person ageing gracefully." You play it confidently, but part of you holds a breath.

He hums and sidesteps Hamhock. "Suits you. It's pretty."

Maybe inviting him over is a mistake. The bolt that runs through you from the compliment pokes at something you thought buried. "What a gentleman," You try to inject as much sarcasm as possible, but your voice quivers. "I'll be right back. Sit tight?"

You leave John in the kitchen to retreat to the bathroom to regroup. Come on, you scold yourself over the basin for getting worked up. It's just John.

And yet, what remains of your confidence perches on a cliffside at the sight of John pointedly staring at the folder of your copies of the divorce papers on the counter. Fantastic.

His small smile is genuinely sympathetic. It's enraging.

"Y'know, I knew you were married…When I didn't see a ring at the hotel, though, I wondered."

Your chest tightens, and you shove the folder into a bookshelf. "Yep. Finalized the divorce two-ish weeks ago."

You're not in the mood to be reminded of your failures.

"Sorry it didn't work out," John murmurs.

"That's life. That's how it works sometimes," You exhale, then force a smile. "Want a drink? Bourbon? Wine?"

He lets you change the subject, and you let him have a glass of whiskey.

You sit on opposite ends of your short couch, Hamhock acting as a gentlemanly barrier. The conversation rekindles itself after a few fingers of liquor, and eventually, John migrates to the floor, idly playing with the cat. You confide in him about your worries about the event and whether the funds raised will be enough, and he listens. There is no condescension, no bulldozing. Not a trace of smugness at all when he makes suggestions. You don't realize how you've slipped into an old, practically ancient formation until he peers back, eyes creasing from laughter. You're fifteen again, and it is useless to deny it – you are regrettably in love with John Price.

"Can I confess something?" He suddenly asks as your cat waddles off with a catnip toy in his mouth.

Your heart lurches. "If it's a crime, I'm a terrible conspirator."

"No. Nothin' like that, but I lied earlier." He chuckles, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. "My mother didn't tell me about My Fair Lady."

"What do you mean?"

John turns sheepish. "I came an' saw it when I was on leave last summer. Thought I'd surprise you, but I got to the theater and lost my nerve."

Instantly, you pick through scraps of memories from the production. There is no way you would have known he was in attendance, not with how hellishly busy you are.

"You, Captain John Price, lost your nerve?"

Color blooms high on his cheeks, and he turns on the floor, rubbing his neck. "I knew you're not acting but I didn't know how to mention it without soundin' like a prick." His eyes look soft. Different from how they looked that night in his parent's garden. Steady, unwavering, but soft. "I know I'm not good with words. I seem to have a talent for making you angry. But I really am happy to see you. Didn't think I'd get another chance after how I bungled it all those years ago at the train–"

At your grown ages, the angle of the kiss is inadvisable. The two of you fix it without parting, and his hands cup your face when you're finally standing toe-to-toe.

He touches your foreheads together when breathing becomes necessary. "Change anything?"

You don't answer. You lead him to your bedroom and exile the cat.

The fundraiser goes off with a predictable amount of hitches. The caterer is an hour late and forgets half the hors d'oeuvres. The bar runs out of red wine early. Two actors from the children's company slap-fight on stage. Nothing you, Naomi, and Teddy can't fix with elbow grease and stage magic. The caterers re-course. Naomi calls in a favor from her bartender girlfriend. And the children forget their quarrel when they're called upon to defeat Captain Hook.

What you are not prepared for is one of the actors calling out sick, leaving you one date short for the auction. You waste an hour trying to convince one of your fellow techies to step in.

Naomi corners you when you stress-eat a comically tiny piece of toast swiped from a tray.

"You know, if one person is all we need…"

"Your girlfriend won't be mad?"

"Ha-ha, don't get cheeky. C'mon, isn't it time you got back out there?"

You suppress a smug smile. Naomi has no idea. Nobody does. You've gotten back out there and then some.

"Did I not tell you I was grossed out by the auction?"

She's relentless. "Are you really so proud you wouldn't debase yourself a little for the Bramble?"

"Absolutely not."

You'd said it with such conviction, so it's a puzzle when you find yourself waiting in the stage wing, makeup hurriedly refreshed. It takes all your courage and grace not to stumble to Teddy's side when he calls your name. He improvises an introduction on the fly, and you nearly laugh when you realize this is the first time you've been on the stage, under a spotlight, in years.

The bidding opens, and you hold your breath, letting it go when a few unfamiliar voices call out numbers. A humbling embarrassment clutches you by the throat. But then a paddle raises more confidently in the front row. The light is bright, but you know whose hand hoists it high.

He collects you at the end of the night as you lock up.

"There's my prize."

You can't stop the grin that splits your face. "It's just a date, John."

"Yeah, doin' things a bit out of order, aren't we?" A glimmer of his younger, puffed-up self shines through, and his hand envelops yours.

As you walk, your elbow digs into his ribs, "What will our mothers say?"

"That a big deal to you?"

"To some people."

"Well, love, you're not 'some people'."

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #cw alcohol #i love love #i love corny shit #i needed to write something soft okay?#lightly edited bc i don't think i'll have time to write tomorrow and the deadline is tomorrow!

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femmehysteria · 6 months

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Best Character Named X Poll

FOLLOW @best-character-named-x-poll

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day. New polls scheduled for 1:30PM GMT everyday.

ask box closed for now

WILL BE POSTING POLLS ON @best-character-named-x-poll FROM FEB 1ST

If your favourite character is not included in the poll very sorry i have either never heard of them or actively chose not to include them as theres only 6 characters per poll. Characters will only count of that is their first name, surnames do not count.

Round 85: David

Round 86: Tiffany

Round 87: Charlie

Round 88: Sandy

Round 89: Cody

Round 90: Amanda

Round 91: Jeremy

Past Polls and Poll Ideas under the cut

Names that I have a complete list for*

Caroline, Tyler, Louis, Leonard, Rebecca, Steve, Nicole, Isabelle, Victoria, Katherine, Jade, Alex, Sophie, Greg, Jake, Ellie, Isaac, Robin, Tony, Annie, Lisa, Margaret, Oliver, Clark, Kara, Phoebe, Emma, Ruby, Bart, Alfie, Beth, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Margaret, Tessa, Erica, Theresa, George, Kevin, Sebastian, Felix, Martin, Michael, Erin, Caleb, Helen, Charlotte, Kyle, Martha, Diana, Elsa, Gary, Zoe, Connor, Colin, Daisy, Eric, Maya, Adam, Andy, Magnus, Alma, Nora, Alice, Spike, Leon, Marcel, Kim, Juno, Sue, Chris, Otto, Donald, Daphne, Kate, Todd, Ned, Ken, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Naomi, Diego, Miranda, Joel, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Lily, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Nadia, Velma, Jill, Kiera, Rory, Evan, Tam, Klaus, Neil, Derek, Michelle, Luna, Laila, Cordelia, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Kelly, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Karen, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Hannah, Joy, Ethan, Katya, Aria, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Faye, Frank, Boo, River, Corey, Gabrielle, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Georgina

Names I have an incomplete list for (welcome to send character suggestions)

Richter, Sean, Troy, Cain, Agatha, Warren, Percy, Reggie, Mina, Ryan, Felicia, Dylan, Josh, Shirley, Debbie, Jared, June, Mabel, Ray, Chad, Moe, Hugh, Fearne, Christine, Joe, August, May, Scarlet, Alana, Leela, Manny, Dean, Francis, Mason, Oscar, Quinn, Guy, Ulrich, Wally, Yasmin, Tobias, Woody, Sabrina, Quentin, Margot, Alina, Matilda, Freya, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Leisel, Zelda, Adora, Piper, Scarlet, Sheila, Valentine, Laurie, Laurel, Fitz, Violet, Gabriel, Ford, Artemis, Owen, Bianca, Newton, Summer, Darcy, Noah, Taylor, Miriam, Hugh, Aurora, Hank, Henry, Dawn, Delia, Cosmo, Wanda, Zeke, Cecil, Aiden, Calvin, Ayesha, Beatrice, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Misty, Amaya, Amara, Harvey, Talia, Tatiana, Tanya, Orion, Eugene, Kit, Bo, Duke, Blue, Cameron, Rudolf, Mara, Marianne, Carl

Feel free to send more suggestions

*subject to change, you can still submit a character if there is no strikethrough if you think theres a character that its an absolute crime i dont add. Please don't suggest anything for the names with a strikethrough as they are polls that are already in my queue waiting to be published.

Past Polls

Round 1: Peter : WINNER: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

Round 2: Elizabeth : WINNER: Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Round 3: Jason : WINNER: Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)

Round 4: Eve : WINNER: EVE (WALL-E)

Round 5: Fred : WINNER: Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo)

Round 6: Rachel : WINNER: Rachel (Animorphs)

Round 7: Arthur : WINNER: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Round 8: Amy : WINNER: Amy Pond (Doctor Who)

Round 9: Tom : WINNER: Tom (Tom and Jerry)

Round 10: Claire : WINNER: Clare Devlin (Derry Girls)

Round 11: James : WINNER: James (Pokemon)

Round 12: Max : WINNER: Max (Black Sails)

Round 13: Simon : WINNER: Simon Belmont (Castlevania)

Round 14: Jane : WINNER: Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Round 15: Victor : WINNER: Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Round 16: Mary : WINNER: Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins)

Round 17: Will : WINNER: Will Graham (Hannibal)

Round 18: Laura : WINNER: Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Round 19: Ben : WINNER: Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi (Star Wars)

Round 20: Chloe : WINNER: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)

Round 21: John : WINNER: Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives)

Round 22: Lydia : WINNER: Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)

Round 23: Mark : WINNER: Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

Round 24: Jess : WINNER: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

Round 25: Theo : WINNER: Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown Of Candy)

Round 26: Sarah: WINNER: Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who)

Round 27: Richard : WINNER: Richard Gansey III (The Raven Cycle)

Round 28: Cass : WINNER: Cassandra Cain (Batman)

Round 29: Edward : WINNER: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Round 30: Carm : WINNER: Carmen Sandiego (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?)

Round 31: Hal : WINNER: HAL9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey)

Round 32: Sid : WINNER: Sydney Adamu (The Bear)

Round 33: Jack : WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who)

Round 34: Stephanie : WINNER: Stephanie Brown (Batman)

Round 35: Ash : WINNER: Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)

Round 36: Veronica : WINNER: Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Round 37: Kurt : WINNER: Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler (X-Men)

Round 38: Eleanor : WINNER: Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place)

Round 39: Nathan : WINNER: Nathan Young (Misfits)

Round 40: Fiona : WINNER: Princess Fiona (Shrek)

Round 41: Gale : WINNER: Gayle Waters-Waters (Chris Fleming)

Round 42: Barbara : WINNER: Barbara Millicent Roberts aka Barbie (Barbie)

Round 43: Sam : WINNER: Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Round 44: Grace : WINNER: Grace Chastity (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Round 45: Barry : WINNER: Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone)

Round 46: Raven : WINNER: Raven (Teen Titans)

Round 47: Dan : WINNER: Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Round 48: Mia : WINNER: Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Round 49: Matt : WINNER: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

Round 50: Rose : WINNER: Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Round 51: Robert : WINNER: Robbie Rotten (LazyTown)

Round 52: Lola : WINNER: Lola Bunny (Space Jam)

Round 53: Scott : WINNER: Scott Summers aka Cyclops (X-Men)

Round 54: Olivia : WINNER: Olivia Octavious (Spiderverse)

Round 55: Finn : WINNER: Finn the Human (Adventure Time)

Round 56: Emily : WINNER: Emily Charlton (The Devil Wears Prada)

Round 57: Elliot : WINNER: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

Round 58: Sonia : WINNER: Sonia (Pokemon)

Round 59: Gideon : WINNER: Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Round 60: Jen : WINNER: Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

Round 61: Miles : WINNER: Miles Morales (Spider-Man)

Round 62: Lana : WINNER: Lana Skye (Ace Attorney)

Round 63: Spencer : WINNER: Spencer Shay (iCarly)

Round 64: Tracy : WINNER: Tracy Turnbald (Hairspray!)

Round 65: Luke : WINNER: Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Round 66: Natalie : WINNER: Natalie Scatorccio (Yellowjackets)

Round 67: Harry : WINNER: Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium)

Round 68: Lucy : WINNER: Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)

Round 69: Damian : WINNER: Damian Wayne (Batman)

Round 70: Tabitha : WINNER: Tabitha Casper (Dan and Phil Games: Sims 4)

Round 71: Nick : WINNER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Round 72: Gwen : WINNER: Guinevere (Merlin)

Round 73: Paul : WINNER: Paulette Bonafonte (Legally Blonde)

Round 74: Abigail : WINNER: Abigail Hobbs (Hannibal)

Round 75: Jordan : WINNER: Jordan Baker (The Great Gatsby)

Round 76: Donna : WINNER: Donna Noble (Doctor Who)

Round 77: Morgan : WINNER: Morgana (Merlin)

Round 78: Allison : WINNER: Alison Cooper (BBC Ghosts)

Round 79: Patrick : WINNER: Patrick Star (Spongebob Squarepants)

Round 80: Linda : WINNER: Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Round 81: Philip : WINNER: Philip J. Fry (Futurama)

Round 82: Clarisse : WINNER: Clarisse La Rue (Percy Jackson)

Round 83: Jeff

Round 84: Maria

#best character named x #poll #poll game #my post

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april-is · 13 days

Text

April 3, 2024: Positivity, D.A. Powell

Positivity D.A. Powell

“Anyway, it isn’t forever,” Chris said, “eventually you’re dead.” And we laughed

Besides, everything is better now. Not us but implants, blenders, children, heart attacks. There’s never been a better time to be alive than when you are. If you are. Black-throated blue warbler says chewchewchewchewchewww drawing the last chew out like a sucking drainpipe to say he has mated and is satisfied. Say what you will about that. His joy is uncontainable

and yet it has a form, a measure, to make it clear he’s not upset or feeling anxious. And if he’s bragging, well, it’s no shame to brag that you’re happy.

Honeybees cavorting on the goldenrod are working toward a common goal they’ll never see achieved. They lay down the walls of their cathedral of honeycomb and will not cope the spire, busy in the present task, trusting that the work continues. I’d like to write a children’s book called everybody dies. Upbeat, of course, and pragmatic. You only got so many days. Don’t think about death; when you’re ready, death will think about you. Go out tonight with your friends, like Chris, who went out big or not at all. Have a ball. Plan ahead.

Hear the poet read this aloud.

also by D.A. Powell (shared in year 1 of this project!): [this is what you love: more people. you remember]

More like this:

Overjoyed, Ada Limón

you can’t be a star in the sky without holy fire, Frank X. Gaspar

Today in:

2023: Picture This, Jiordan Castle 2022: Alba, Madeleine Cravens 2021: July, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz 2020: Poem Beginning With A Retweet, Maggie Smith 2019: Waiting for Happiness, Nomi Stone 2018: United, Naomi Shihab Nye 2017: If You Are Over Staying Woke, Morgan Parker 2016: High School Senior, Sharon Olds 2015: Dog in Bed, Joyce Sidman 2014: Persephone Writes to Her Mother, Tara Mae Mulroy 2013: Hook, James Wright 2012: How to Build an Owl, Kathleen Lynch 2011: Expecting, Kevin Young 2010: The Choir, Luke Kennard 2009: I Come Home Wanting To Touch Everyone, Stephen Dunn 2008: Visible World, Richard Siken 2007: Anywhere Else, Maggie Dietz 2006: After Work, Richard Jones 2005: The Sheep-Child, James Dickey

#death #joy #poem #national poetry month #feast on your life #d.a. powell #birds

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rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world · 6 months

Note

authors who support palestine and peace

Here’s a good list of authors who have authored books about Palestine, but I’d also add a couple authors who have either written in support of Palestinian human rights and/or authored books about Palestine that aren’t on this list:

Rebecca Solnit

Ijeoma Oluo

Marc Lamont Hill and Mitchell Plitnick (wrote “Except for Palestine”)

James Baldwin

Ibram X. Kendi

Angela Y. Davis

Noam Chomsky

Norman Finkelstein

Naomi Klein

Jeff Halper

Ilan Pappé - author of The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine

Kamila Shamsie

Henning Mankell

China Miéville

There’s also this big list on Goodreads:

#Palestine #pro palestine #free palestine #authors #books #reading #anti colonialism #asks #book recs #writers

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spaceagebachelormann · 1 year

Text

𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔!

HOW TO REQUEST

— state the character, romantic or platonic, the format of the request, and what you want with it

— do you have any specifics for the reader? male, female, blonde, poc, etc?

— requests can be send through inbox or dms, but inbox is heavily encouraged!

— PLEASE ACTUALLY SPECIFY WHAT YOU WANT WITH YOUR REQUEST!! ITS VERY HARD FOT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING THAT JUST SAYS “_____ x reader fluff” WITH NO FURTHER EXPLANATION!! GIVE ME A PLOT LINE!!

WHAT I WILL WRITE:

platonic

romantic

familial

any gender x any gender

headcanons

poly relationships

sensitive topics

x reader

ships (canon or non-canon, so long as it’s not problematic)

i. i WILL write cheating, but not if a character is going it to the reader/another character. i’ll make someone comforting another person after being cheated on, but i won’t write finnick odair cheating on someone

same thing ^^ goes for homophobic, transphobic, ableist topics like that, and. well i guess the same goes for abuse?

WHAT I WONT WRITE:

smut (i’m 14)

yandere

incest

student x teacher

canonically gay character (ex: wylan van eck) x fem!reader for romantic requests

canonically lesbian character x male!reader for romantic requests

songfics (nothing against them, i just don’t know how!!)

things about ocs

ship fics

character list (more to come!)

❍ = easiest characters to write for

bolded — favourite characters to write for

KEEPER OF THE LOST CITIES

❍ sophie foster, ❍ dex dizznee, fitz vacker, ❍ keefe sencen, ❍ biana vacker, ❍ marellla redek, ❍ maruca chebota, tam song, linh song, ❍ wylie endal, ❍ jensi babblos, stina heks

CHRONICLES OF NARNIA

❍ peter pevensie, ❍ edmund pevensie, ❍ susan pevensie, ❍ lucy pevensie, mr tumnus, ❍ caspian, eustace scrubb, jill pole, shasta, aravis

RIORDANVERSE

❍ percy jackson, ❍ annabeth chase, ❍ grover underwood, ❍ jason grace, ❍ piper mclean, ❍ leo valdez, ❍ hazel levesque, ❍ frank zhang, nico di angelo, will solace, reyna arellano, rachel dare, ❍ travis stoll, ❍ connor stoll, thalia grace, magnus chase, ❍ alex fierro, carter kane, sadie kane, lester papadopolous, lavinia asimov

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

❍ christine daaé, ❍ raoul de chagny, erik destler, ❍ meg giry

p.s. i’ll write for the movie, musical, book and 1990 miniseries versions!!

HARRY POTTER

harry potter, ❍ hermione granger, ❍ ron weasley, ❍ luna lovegood, ❍ neville longbottom, ginny weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, ❍ sirius black, remus lupin, ❍ james potter, ❍ marlene mckinnon, mary macdonald, dorcas meadowes, lily evans

RIDE THE CYCLONE

ocean o’connell rosenberg, ❍ noel gruber, ❍ mischa bachinski, ❍ ricky potts, jane doe, penny lamb, ❍ constance blackwood

SHADOW AND BONE

❍ alina starkov, malyen oretsev, ❍ genya safin, ❍ zoya nazyalensky, david kostyk, erm others i accidentally deleted remind me to update this

SIX OF CROWS

kaz brekker, inej ghafa, ❍ jesper fahey, ❍ wylan van eck, nina zenik, matthias helvar

THE OUTSIDERS

ponyboy curtis, ❍ johnny cade, sodapop curtis, darry curtis, steve randall, ❍ twobit matthews, ❍ dallas winston

THE HUNGER GAMES

katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, ❍ finnick odair, ❍ johanna mason, marvel sanford, clove kentwell, cato hadley, ❍ cinna

IT (2017)

bill denbrough, eddie kaspbrak, richie tozier, ❍ stan uris, beverly marsh, ben hanscom, ❍ mike hanlon

THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL

❍ agatha of woods beyond, ❍ sophie of woods beyond, tedros of camelot, ❍ hort of bloodbrook, ❍ hester of ravenswood, ❍ anadil, ❍ dot, nicola, aric, rhian mistral, rafal mistral, leonora lesso, clarissa dovey

THE LAND OF STORIES

❍ alex bailey, ❍ connor bailey, ❍ red riding hood, ❍ jack, ❍ goldilocks, ❍ bree campbell

SCOOBY DOO

daphne blake, ❍ fred jones, shaggy rogers, velma dinkley

LITTLE WOMEN

❍ jo march, amy march, beth march, meg march, ❍ laurie

A GOOD GIRLS GUIDE TO MURDER

pippa fitz-amobi, ❍ ravi singh, naomi ward, ❍ cara ward, connor reynolds, ❍ jamie reynolds, nat da silva

THE MIGHTY DUCKS

❍ charlie conway, adam banks, ❍ lester averman, guy germaine, ❍ connie moreau, julie gaffney, ❍ ken wu, dean portman, luis mendoza, dwayne robertson, ❍ fulton reed

DRACULA

dracula, ❍ lucy westenra, mina harker, arthur holmwood, ❍ renfield, dr seward, abraham van helsing, ❍ quincey morris

FRANKENSTEIN

victor frankenstein, ❍ adam frankenstein, elizabeth lavenza, justine moritz, ernest frankenstein, henry clerval, the bride

DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE

henry jekyll, ❍ edward hyde, ❍ richard enfield, gabriel utterson, hastie lanyon, lucy harris

MONSTER HIGH

gotta update this one guys,,,

THE BREAKFAST CLUB

john bender , ❍ claire standish, allison reynolds, brian johnson, andrew clark

THE POWERPUFF GIRLS

❍ blossom utonium, bubbles utonium, buttercup utonium , ❍ brick jojo, boomer jojo, butch jojo

DAVID BOWIE

❍ jareth, thomas jerome newton, david bowie

SWEENEY TODD

❍ sweeney, anthony hope, ❍ mrs lovett, johanna

THE ROSEWOOD CHRONICLES

lottie pumpkin, ellie wolf, ❍ jamie volk, ❍ ollie moreno, ❍ raphael wilcox, ❍ anastacia alcroft leblanc, saskia san martin, lola tomkins, mickey tomkins, binah fae

HAIRSPRAY

❍ corny collins, ❍ seaweed j stubbs, amber von tussle, tracy turnblad, penny pingleton, link larkin

MISC. CHARACTERS

sarah williams, ❍ bernard the elf, ❍ rodrick heffley, ❍ varian

#marlee organization <3

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noirsfantasy · 4 months

Text

On the seventh day of Christmas...

𝔄 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔱. 𝟑

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Actor!Michael B Jordan x OC!Naomi Samuels

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff, angst

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 5.8K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ Naomi and Ashanti get into it and things go downhill. Thankfully, Michael is there to save the day and cheer Naomi up. They end up getting a bit closer than expected. Later on, Naomi learns why Ashanti is the way she is.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Listen, I know y'all have your opinions about Ashanti, but all I'm gonna say is, never judge a book by its cover. Also I literally had to stop myself from melting while writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Part 2 Here

"Wow! Okay, I think it's obvious that's the winner right there." James says in surprise.

"What can I say? We've just got that creative touch." I say, putting my elbow on the snowman. Unfortunately, it wasn't packed together sturdy enough and my added weight caused it to crumble and me to fall on top of it.

"Naomi!" Ashanti shouts, annoyed that I ruined the snowman. Michael rushes over to help me up as Dan, Teresa, and James all laugh at the sight. Michael is laughing a bit too, but he makes sure I'm okay and pulls me to my feet. I brush snow off my bottom and chuckle at my clumsiness.

"Oh shit, I didn't mean for that to happen." I rub my neck sheepishly and look over at Ashanti, who looks livid. "You okay, Ashanti?"

"No! I'm not okay! You always ruin everything!" She shouts angrily. We all look at her in confusion, wondering where this all came from.

"What do you mean? I thought we were having fun." I respond, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"No, you're always stealing the spotlight!" She retorts, her voice sharp.

"Whoa, calm down, Ashanti. She didn't mean to ruin the snowman." Michael intervenes, trying to ease the escalating situation. But Ashanti, fueled by jealousy and frustration, continues her tirade.

"No, Michael! She's always stealing the spotlight! Trying to be the center of attention with her stupid ideas," Ashanti crosses her arms as I stare at her, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"Stupid ideas? This was supposed to be a fun activity. Why are you so upset?" I question, trying to understand.

"Because you always have to be the special one, don't you? You can't stand anyone else getting attention," She accuses, her eyes narrowing. "Always pretending to be all cute and clumsy, always trying to be the one everyone likes. It's pathetic, really." Her words cut deeper than expected. The atmosphere grows tense, and I feel a mixture of hurt and anger welling up inside me. Michael and Dan exchange uneasy glances, unsure what to do. Teresa tries to calm the situation.

"Come on, guys, let's not do this here. Let's just go back to having fun." She says, trying to hype us up again, but to no avail.

"No, she needs to hear this, Teresa. You can act innocent all you want, Naomi, but you're not fooling me. Everyone falls for your act, but I see right through it. You're manipulative, Naomi. Always trying to make people sorry for you." I glance at Daniel, hoping for support, but he seems caught in the middle, unsure of how to navigate this awkward conversation.

"Enough, both of you." James interjects, trying to diffuse. "You're ruining this for all of us with this unnecessary drama."

"It's not unnecessary, James. She needs to hear the truth," Ashanti retorts, her anger only growing.

"The truth? You're making baseless accusations and I'm just supposed to sit back and take it? Hell no." I fire back, my frustration boiling over.

"Baseless? Look at you, falling around like a toddler, trying to make Michael feel sorry for you. You're always playing the victim. And he's been falling for it all day," She sneers, gesturing towards Michael.

"That's not fair, Ashanti. Naomi hasn't done anything wrong," Michael finally speaks up, unable to stand her bashing me. Ashanti looks offended.

"Of course, you'd defend her. You always seem to prefer her over me," She accuses, her jealousy showing.

"I'm not choosing anyone. But I won't stand here while you attack her for things that obviously make you insecure."

"Michael, can't you see she doesn't care about anyone but herself? She's only pretending to be this interesting, edgy girl because that's the only way people can notice her. Quite frankly, it's disappointing you can't see how she's trying to manipulate you to not like me."

"That's enough!" I snap, unable to contain my anger any longer. "If I make you so miserable and you can't stand to be around me so much, why don't you just leave?" The silence is loud as she glares at me, before huffing.

"Fine! Maybe I will!" She turns and stomps off angrily, leaving the group in an awkward silence. I grunt in frustration as I watch her leave.

"Naomi, maybe you should go after her." James suggests, trying to be a voice of reason.

"No, I'm done playing her games. She wants to walk away? Fine," I reply, my tone strong. "Maybe she'll finally realize everything isn't about her."

"I'll go after her." Teresa says, leaving to follow her cousin. Dan puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"You didn't deserve that, Naomi. She's just... I don't know what her deal is." He says with a sigh.

"I don't know, maybe there's something else going on that we don't know about." James suggests, shrugging his shoulders.

"The audacity she has to accuse me of all that stuff, when I've had to put up with that from her since we were kids!" I frown angrily, my hands clenching again.

"Let's just take our minds off that for now. We can't let it ruin our whole day. How about we explore the market a bit more?" Dan suggests and James and Michael nod in agreement. Reluctantly, I agree, realizing that dwelling on negativity won't do me any good.

As we start to walk through the market, the vibrant lights and festive atmosphere fail to fully lift my spirits. The encounter with Ashanti keeps replaying in my mind, leaving me feeling a mix of frustration and hurt. I trail behind the boys and Michael slows down until he's walking beside me.

"Don't believe any of what she said, Naomi. She's just projecting onto you and that's not fair." He speaks softly. I sigh and glance up at him.

"I know, but it's still frustrating," I admit. His presence offers me some comfort, a reminder that not everyone interprets situations like how Ashanti did.

Meanwhile, Teresa catches up with Ashanti, finding a quieter section of the market where the snowfall adds a serene touch to the surroundings.

"What do you want, T?" Ashanti snaps, her frustration still evident.

"Just checking on you. What happened back there?" Teresa inquires, genuinely concerned.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Ashanti mutters, avoiding eye contact.

"Look, I get that something upset you, but taking it out on Naomi like that wasn't fair. She's our cousin, and she doesn't deserve that kind of treatment," She asserts, her protective instincts kicking in.

"You always take her side!" Ashanti shouts, turning away.

"I'm not on anyone's side, but I won't stand by when you're treating people unfairly. Sort out whatever's bothering you, Ashanti, before it ruins more than just today," Teresa advises before leaving Ashanti to her thoughts.

Back at the market, I'm walking with Michael as we've split up from Daniel and James. The sun has begun to set and it starts to get a bit colder. Michael smiles at me and places his arm around my shoulder as we walk, providing me a sense of warmth. He tries to get my mind off of the earlier confrontation and cheer me up.

"You know something else that's irritating?" He starts, his tone suggesting he has something to say.

"What's that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as we walk. He takes a moment to reply.

"I haven't gotten to buy you a drink yet. A real one," He gestures to the market ahead. "We've been walking all day, so this is my chance." He grins and my eyes light up at the suggestion. I think for a moment, before cracking a small smile.

"I guess one drink can't hurt." I give in and Michael squeezes my shoulder, gently.

"Glad to see I haven't lost my charm." He says playfully, causing me to chuckle softly. "Just, this time, it's not gonna be hot chocolate. Let's change it up." I grin and nod in response. "I've got the perfect idea." Michael takes his arm from around my shoulder and grabs my hand, leading me into the market. His hand is warm against mine and he links our fingers, causing me to smile.

"It's just over here." He tugs my hand as he leads me through the crowd.

"What kind of drink did you have in mind?" I ask him. "Nothing too strong, please." I joke.

"Relax, I don't want to see you passed out on the floor." He answers before laughing. I roll my eyes and playfully slap the back of his hand in response.

"Okay, so what's this perfect idea?" I inquire with a smirk. Michael grins as we reach a small stand selling Christmas treats, hot cocoa, and other seasonal beverages before stopping and pointing towards the menu.

"Mulled apple cider." He says and I raise my eyebrows.

"I actually love that idea. They're nice and warm, but with a little bit of a kick. Love it." I nod in approval and we order two hot mulled ciders from the vendor.

"Here you go." The vendor smiles as he hands us our drinks. We all take them and move to find a spot to sit. After a few seconds of searching, we settle on a park bench away from the crowds. I take a seat and cradle the drink in my hands.

The mulled cider has a strong cinnamon smell, the heat warming the air around us. Michael sits down beside me, his own cider in one hand and the other placed on the back of the bench. We smile at each other as we take the first sips of our drinks.

"Mmmm, it's so good." I say, enjoying the warmth of the winter beverage. Our eyes meet but we go on drinking in silence. It's not awkward. We both know that we could talk if we wanted to but the peace is nice. Finally, after about a minute, Michael breaks the silence.

"Naomi..." He starts and I tilt my head in his direction.

"Yeah?"

"About what happened earlier. I just want you to know that I don't think those things about you. Not at all." He pauses for a moment as I listen intently. "And honestly, I don't think Ashanti does either. She just feels insecure about her image, and my arrival didn't make things any easier for her. But, whether she meant it or not, she's wrong about you." I didn't even realize how much I needed to hear that tonight, but his words seem to bring me some peace.

"Thank you, Michael. Really. I really appreciate it." I respond with a smile of my own. Our gaze lingers for a few more seconds, but I realize there's still something bothering me. Suddenly I turn to face him on the bench so we're sitting face to face.

"Can I admit something?" I hesitate. He nods and looks at me intently. I take a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm just as insecure as Ashanti," I confess, looking down into my mug. "I'm always trying to be cool and impressive, but I'm scared of looking dumb. It's like I'm not truly special to anyone." I glance over at Michael and I know he's listening carefully.

"My family is the most judgmental. Nothing seems to please them. I became a real estate agent, but it wasn't as good as Teresa's nursing job. I quit to be a full-time artist, and they say I'm throwing away all their hard work. Broke up with my cheating ex, and they say I should've paid more attention to him. Now that I'm almost thirty, they're nagging me about marriage and kids. What about what makes me happy?" I take a deep breath, feeling my eyes well up with tears.

Michael nods and I spill more, feeling vulnerable. "Their expectations are exhausting. I second guess every choice I make. Even if they're right, I don't want to live worrying about what people think. I want to live for me." I look up at Michael, his eyes still trained on me. I blush, realizing I've dumped a lot on him. He places a reassuring hand on my thigh.

"You know, I get it, Naomi. There's a lot of pressure on you to be perfect. But you don't have to be that. I see you for you. You're not perfect, but you're real. Don't be so hard on yourself." He smiles and takes my hand. I give him a small smile in return, grateful for his encouragement. His words resonate deep within me, creating a sense of warmth that goes beyond the heat radiating from the mulled cider. For a moment, I forget the chaos that unfolded earlier, and it's just Michael and me, sharing a connection.

"Thanks, Michael," I say, my voice a mix of gratitude and relief. "I really needed to hear that." He squeezes my hand gently.

"Anytime, Nao." He winks as he uses the nickname he gave me. "I'm happy to help." We share a cuddle on the bench, finishing our ciders. Michael breaks the silence again with a mischievous grin.

"You know," he starts, his eyes sparkling with playful intent, "as much as the scavenger hunt was a bust, there's still one thing I really wanted to check off our list."

"What is it?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. Michael smirks.

"Close your eyes and trust me." Raising an eyebrow, I decide to play along. Closing my eyes, I feel Michael taking my hand, lacing his fingers with mine once more and guiding me through the bustling market. He takes care to keep me from bumping into anyone or stumbling. As we walk, with my eyes closed, all I can focus on is the warmth and softness of his hands, making me feel at ease.

"Almost there." He whispers, excitement in his voice. A flutter of anticipation builds. The market sounds far and I realize we've steered away from it. Snow crunches under our feet as we come to a stop. "Now, open." Gasping, I find a beautifully adorned horse-drawn carriage before us, illuminated by twinkling Christmas lights in the trees. The festive carriage driver welcomes us with a warm smile.

"Surprise," Michael says, grinning that gorgeous smile as he gestures toward the carriage. Speechless, I take a moment to react.

"Michael, this is amazing. How did you...?" He chuckles, pulling me into his side.

"I saw them doing rides earlier today and I figured, if anything, this might somewhat salvage the evening." He glances over at me. "I hope you like it."

"Of course, I love it." I respond, still in shock at the gesture as I take in the magic of the moment.

"So, you wanna hop in? Or just stand out in the cold?" He asks teasingly, offering me his hand. I roll my eyes and grab his hand as he helps me into the carriage. As we get settled into the seats, the carriage lurches forward and the ride starts. As we're pulled down the snowy road, I look up and see the beautiful Christmas lights above us.

"Wow," I whisper in awe and smile brightly. "It's so beautiful." Michael smiles back and looks up as well.

"Yeah, it really is." He agrees. As the gentle rocking of the carriage and the peaceful night setting work in harmony, I feel my body relax more and more with each second.

I look over at Michael and his eyes are trained on me. I gaze back at him, noticing, once again, how striking his features are. He's handsome in such a unique way, with his deep, chocolate-brown eyes, his strong jawline, and his playful, almost cheeky dimpled grin that makes me want to melt every time I see it. He doesn't look away from me and I can't make myself look away either.

It seems like he's about to say something, but the sound of the horse whinnying as it trots on the snowy gravel draws our attention back to the moment. When we glance at each other again and I'm surprised by the intense way he's looking at me. His eyes study me carefully, as if he's trying to memorize every single detail about me; my skin, my expression, the way my lips move when I speak.

Out of nowhere, I begin to feel a bit shy, a warmth rising within me as I realize how close we are. I look back up at the lights, my cheeks turning red and out of the corner of my eye, I see Michael do the same. We sit there for a few moments, silently looking up at the lights, our bodies inching ever so slightly closer. Suddenly, I feel Michael's lips peck my cheek. I look over at him, pressing my hand to my cheek in surprise. He looks back at me, his gaze still focused intently on mine. He watches me, studying my reaction before bringing his fingers to rest underneath my chin.

"Come here..." His words send electricity through my body as he pulls me forward a few inches and presses his plump lips against my own in a gentle kiss. My eyes flutter shut as my breath grows shallow. His lips feel soft on mine and I can taste the sweetness of the mulled cider from before. Every nerve in my body sparks with heat as the world around us becomes muffled. He's tender and gentle, kissing me in a way that says he truly cares about me.

Michael pulls away for a moment, his thumb caressing my skin softly as it grazes across my bottom lip. He wets his lips slightly before pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, his touch is firmer, his tongue slipping its way into my mouth. I find my hands resting on either side of his neck, pulling him in deeper. He sets his hands on my hips, pulling me closer so that our bodies fit neatly together.

The kiss continues for a few more seconds before he finally breaks it, breathing heavily. He pulls his head back slightly as he looks at me. I'm completely speechless. I've never felt anything like this before. My heart is fluttering, my arms are weak, and my body feels like it's on fire.

Our moment is interrupted by the sound of the driver clearing his throat awkwardly. Michael turns to him and smiles apologetically.

"Sorry, my lovebirds. We're almost there, don't worry." I look up at the driver and give him a sheepish smile, my expression growing even redder if that's even possible. Before I can say anything, Michael cuts in.

"Heh. Lovebirds." He mocks the driver's words jokingly, his tone light and playful. He turns back to me and kisses my hand. "He knows what's up." I smile, feeling like I'm in a dream. We pull back to the place where we started and the carriage comes to a halt. The driver climbs down from his seat and opens the gate so we can leave. Michael gets out first and puts his hands on my waist, helping me down from the carriage. He tips the driver before pulling me by the hand to his side, wrapping his arm back around me.

"Did you enjoy the ride?" He asks, smiling down at me.

"The physical one or the emotional one?" I reply teasingly, causing Michael to laugh. "I did enjoy the ride," I admit, giving a bit of a shy grin.

"Good," he replies, his tone shifting to something more sincere.

"It's getting late." I sigh as I look at the time. Michael glances at his watch and nods in agreement.

"Yeah, we should probably get back before they start to worry." He replies, giving me a warm smile. I return the smile, turning to face him.

"Today was a lot... but you really turned it around for me. Thank you for that." Michael pulls me into a hug, his body engulfing me.

"Don't mention it. I didn't like seeing a frown on your face." He says as he lets go of me. "You look way prettier when you smile." I blush at his compliment, looking down at my feet as he takes my hand in his. He looks ahead as we make our way back to the family house, the festive lights and decorations still illuminating the winter night.

As we near the house, I can't help but to feel a mix of emotions. Today had unexpected turns, but it all worked out in the end. Mostly. As we step inside, we're met with the warmth of the home and all of the lights are off. It seems like everyone's gone to sleep. Michael and I slip off our shoes before quietly making our way up the stairs.

"Looks like everyone's down for the night," He says, peering into the hallway and seeing no lights.

"Hopefully we didn't keep them up." I whisper, trying not to make too much noise on the creaky floor. Michael turns to me, leaning against the wall as he gazes at me through the darkness.

"Hey, Nao," He starts and I look at him in curiosity.

"Yeah?" He looks off to the side for a moment, as if contemplating his next words.

"I know today wasn't perfect, but I really enjoyed spending time with you." He takes my hand in his again. "I know I've only been here for a day, but I already feel so close to you. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, but I know exactly how I feel when I'm with you." He leans in and speaks softly, causing me to shiver. His smile grows brighter as I look up at him with affection. "And I gotta say, I'm pretty excited for tomorrow."

"I really can't tell you how much this means to me. I feel like I don't have to try with you. Everything just flows so naturally. I can't wait to spend more time with you." I reply, biting my lip slightly.

"You sleep well, Nao. Goodnight." He tells me, planting a kiss on my cheek.

"Goodnight to you too, Michael." I say back and he gives me that small, flirty nod he gave me when we first met as he turns and begins walking down the hall towards his room. I watch Michael leave, his warmth lingering as he disappears into the guest room. I stand there for a moment, absorbing the sincerity in his voice and the unexpected connection we've formed. As I enter my room, the quiet of the night surrounds me, and the events of the day play like a movie in my mind.

I take a deep breath and decide to capture the essence of the day on paper. I grab the cheap sketchbook Ashanti gave me yesterday, along with a few coloring pencils. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of the streetlamps outside, casting a gentle ambiance.

I begin sketching, letting my hand move freely across the paper. The pencil captures the laughter, the awkwardness, the joy, and the unexpected intimacy that all came with today. The lines on the paper become a visual narrative, each stroke expressing the emotions that I experienced throughout the day. I feel a sense of regret as I recall how Ashanti and I acted towards each other. I feel grateful for the comfort I was given today.

As I continue to sketch, I am reminded just how much art has a way of helping me process my feelings. The notepad becomes a canvas for both the highs and lows of the day, a tangible representation of the emotional rollercoaster I've been on.

On another page, I capture the moment I had with Michael. The mulled ciders, the carriage ride, even our time by the fireplace this morning. I smile as I reminisce on this eventful day, feeling lucky to be where I am. I glance at the clock and realize how much later it has gotten. The exhaustion of the day catches up with me and I decide it's time to put the pencil down. I change into my pajamas and slide under the cozy covers of the bed.

With a contented sigh, I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, who knows what surprises it might hold. The room is filled with a quiet peace, and as I drift off to sleep, the events of the day soften into dreams, leaving behind the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel sense of anticipation, eager to make the most of today. As I get ready, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the day ahead. There's still a lingering tension in the air, especially with Ashanti, but I'm determined to make Christmas Eve memorable for everyone.

I head downstairs to find the family gathering in the living room, watching a movie. I say good morning to everyone and head into the kitchen to see if I can help. I get there to find just my aunts Tina and Pat preparing the Christmas Eve feast. I find a place to help out and smile to myself, chopping up some vegetables.

As I move around the kitchen, Ashanti enters, her eyes meeting mine briefly. There's a flicker of guilt in Ashanti's expression, a silent tension between us that, at some point, needs to be addressed. Although, I am not planning on being the one to start that conversation. She goes and sits at the kitchen table, scrolling on her phone. My aunt Tina looks over her shoulder and smiles.

"Oh, I loved that photoshoot you did, sweetie. You looked so fierce and powerful!" She compliments, putting her hand on Ashanti's shoulder.

"Yeah..." She replies, not looking up from her phone. Aunt Tina smirks and glances over at me.

"You know, Naomi, I want to apologize for the other day." She starts and I look up from my task with a raised eyebrow.

"You do?" I question and she nods.

"Maybe you're onto something with your art. At least it's better than jumping from job to job." She says, causing Aunt Pat to snicker a bit. I look over at Ashanti, who doesn't look up from her cellphone. "Ugh, the things I would do to be able to get paid to just doodle all day. Must be a dream." I sigh deeply, looking over at her.

"Aunt Tina, do you really think that art is just about sitting around and drawing whatever I want?" I ask her calmly.

"Well, honey-"

"No." I cut her off. "My job isn't that simple. It takes years to learn the skills I have. Art is a form of expression. It's like telling a story and it isn't always your own. It has a way of connecting people and cementing memories for years to come. I'm not some toddler with a crayon. To me, art is everything. Why can't any of you respect that?" I ask, gesturing to everyone in the room. My aunt Pat looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Mimi," She starts with a sigh, "you know we want nothing but the best for you." I clench my fist as I stare at her.

"See, that's another thing. If I'm being honest, a lot of my insecurities come from others telling me what they think I should be. I think it's time I start listening to what I want for a change."

"We're just trying to look out for you, sweetie. You're a bit reckless is all." Aunt Tina says, rolling her eyes.

"No, the problem is that you guys don't respect my choices or ambitions," I reply. "Thank you for the concern, but at the end of the day, it's my life." I say with a bit of sass.

"Whatever." Aunt Tina says, throwing her hands up. "Just do what you want. You always do anyway." Ashanti slams her hand down on the table and stands up.

"Will you stop, Mom?" She raises her voice, shocking us all. Ashanti takes a deep breath and points a finger at Aunt Tina. "It's one thing if you want to judge me and treat me like a child because I'm your daughter," She continues firmly. "But keep Naomi out of it! What she's doing is amazing and, I've got to admit, I'm jealous that she actually has the courage to do what she wants."

"Ashanti-"

"I'm not finished!" She cuts her mom off. "All my life, you've had a plan for who I was gonna be and what I was gonna do, but did you once ask me what I wanted to do? I just went along with it because I figured mother knows best. But I hate my life and I'm starting to hate the person I've become." I start seeing Ashanti in a new light, having heard this new bit of information. I'd always thought that she just didn't like me and that we were always at odds, but now I know why.

"Naomi and I used to be best friends, but because of how you raised me, I grew to despise her, when really I should've despised you. I've stood by my whole life and let you dictate my decisions, but I won't let you do that to my cousin. You have no right!" I stare at Ashanti, stunned by her outburst. I'm also a little relieved that someone finally stood up for me. Aunt Tina and Pat don't know what to say.

"If you guys are my real family, then you won't just want me to be a carbon copy of you." She says, a bit calmer. "And if you care about us and what's good for us, you'll respect our choices."

My aunts are silent, their smug expressions completely washed away. Aunt Tina sighs again, not wanting to admit that we're correct. Before she can say a word, my mom comes downstairs, wearing her best Christmas sweater. She immediately senses the tension in the room and steps in. "What's going on down here?" She asks, her tone firm and direct.

"Nothing, Mom. Ashanti and I were just leaving." I say, before heading out of the kitchen. Ashanti follows behind me and we make our way to the study.

The room is dark and quiet, Ashanti flipping on a light to see the room. The two of us share a look, the mood of the moment taking a sharp turn. Ashanti sits down on the couch, burying her face in her hands. I hesitate for a second before sitting down beside her.

"Ashanti, I'm so sorry." I offer, reaching my hand out to her. She doesn't respond right away, but she finally takes my hand in hers.

"No, I should be the one apologizing. I have been so unfair to you and I'm sorry for all I've put you through." The look she gives is one of guilt and regret. I give her a soft smile and she continues. "I've just been so angry for so long and I took it out on you. My mother would always pressure me to do exactly what she wanted me to do and I was jealous that you could do anything you wanted when we were growing up."

"Ashanti..." I say softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I never knew you felt this way. I always thought your life was perfect and I felt like I would never amount to all the things you've accomplished." I admit.

"No ones life is perfect, Naomi. All those accomplishments, they weren't mine. They were my mother's. I just went along with everything, in hopes that I would make them proud. But nothing is ever enough." She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. "And I want to apologize for yesterday. I didn't mean any of those things I said. Honestly, I'm not doing as well as everyone says."

"What do you mean?" I question. There's a long pause as Ashanti considers her words, trying to get them right.

"You know how everyone's been talking about how successful I am?" She begins, seeming unsure of herself. I nod, listening intently. "Well, I'm struggling. A lot. My mother doesn't know this, but I lost my modeling job. My boyfriend and I broke up a few months and I'm about to be evicted!" She confesses, a tear running down her face. "That's why I've been so mean lately. I've been trying to keep up appearances but it's stressful as hell and it's even worse because Michael's here." My eyes widen as she tells me this, the words catching me off guard.

"You don't like that Michael's here?"

"I like Michael," She says, shaking her head. "I mean hello! He's Michael B Jordan, who wouldn't like him? But ever since he arrived, Mom has been pressuring me to seduce him. I hate it, I feel like some shallow bitch who annoys everyone. I just wanted to make my mother happy, but at what cost? I'm just making a fool out of myself and it's obvious that he likes you. I'm so tired of being fake. I can tell that no one likes me." She looks down at her lap, avoiding my eyes.

"That's not true," I defend. "Yeah, you get on our nerves sometimes and sometimes you make Michael a bit uncomfortable..." She gives a wry laugh as I speak. "But we all love to have you around. You may see yourself as fake, but we all know the real you. And we love being around you. Ashanti, even when you started being mean to me when we were kids, I still was excited to see you. And I'm glad to have you as my cousin. If I'm honest, your teasing made me want to do better. And your mom may have pushed you to be perfect, but every accomplishment is yours. You earned each of them. And I'm so proud of you, Ashanti." She looks up at me in disbelief.

"Really?" She asks, a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes are filled with tears and her shoulders are slumped. "But how can you say that when I've made things so difficult for you? I've been nothing but nasty to you."

"Because you're still my cousin." I reply with a gentle smile on my face. "It's true that you can sometimes be a bit much, but I still love you. Like you said, we both got on each others nerves when we were kids, but no one's perfect, especially when it comes to our family."

Ashanti wipes away her tears. "I appreciate that, Naomi. Honestly, I really think that you're such an amazing person. I'm just really bad at saying it." She says with a faint smile. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you through before and after Michael got here. I really do love you. Please forgive me?"

"Of course, I forgive you, Ashanti." I pull her into a hug, a real one. She hesitates for a second, before hugging me back. I give her a little squeeze as I missed this feeling with my cousin. She doesn't let go for a moment, before finally speaking again.

"Hey... can I ask you a favor?" She asks, her voice soft.

"Yeah, what is it?" I reply, prepared for whatever she might ask of me.

To be continued...

#fluff #christmas #noirsfantasy #12 days of christmas #black reader #black oc #black reader fluff #black actors #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan #angst #angst with a happy ending #black fem reader #michael b jordan x black fem reader

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