#falsettober

[lycheelsea]

And a teenie-tiny band Day 28: Band

Theater kid Marvin is spectacular so I’ve decided Jason and Whizzer get to be band geeks (plus Marvin on the triangle)

[late4dinnerlateagain]

Oh! Late for dinner! Late Again!

Day 1 of @lycheelsea ‘s #falsettober

Theme - Dinner

[crackyoutfeet]

I think I have turned the women with children fallsettober prompt into in trousers October despite the lack of jason in in trousers help

[realcautiouscrab]

Falsettotober day 2: Cufflinks

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Prompts made by @lycheelsea :D

As stated in the authors note of this fic, I’m not Jewish and therefore don’t know much about Jewish weddings. I obviously did research before writing this, as I don’t want to misrepresent the religion, but if I got anything wrong, please let me know!! I want to make sure I’m not being rude and I truly won’t take offense on being corrected :DD

Have a lovely day, can’t wait to see what everyone does for day 3 !!

[morphean42]

Day #1 of Falsettober put on by @lycheelsea

We’ll see how many I do but here’s the first prompt— Dinner

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Also available under the cut

A wooden table upon which a casserole is perched, very likely warping the wood. A wooden table with three wooden chairs, only two filled. It’s not the first time the seat next to Jason has been empty, but the silence tonight is loud.

Tonight, the silence sounds like a hundred white lies that have been spit with varying amounts of anger for months. Lies, like “I have to finish a project at work” or “I’m getting a drink with an old college friend.”

The chair to the left is filled by silence that sounds like clothes being packed into a suitcase, a whole life stowed away as a man walks across the threshold of a house now wiped of his presence.

The chair to the right is quiet too, but in an altogether different way. This is the sort of quiet Jason has dealt with all his life— a parent too absorbed in their own life to care about his. The chair is inhabited by a mother still shocked by the events that unfolded the previous night.

He picks at his food and glares with every ounce of hatred he can muster. If he can’t let this hatred out on the man himself, Jason supposes the poor casserole will do as a replacement. At least it won’t glare back.

The silence is broken by a heavy sigh. “Please, Jason, eat your dinner,” The Mother says as if the world hasn’t ended. The Son stabs a piece of broccoli and pretends it’s The Father.

Perhaps it hasn’t, the world has a nasty habit of continuing on even when its inhabitants are sick and tired. Jason is determined to feel as if it has, though, because if he tries hard enough maybe he’ll stop feeling so numb.

“It’s not very good,” is what he says, even though it’s a lie. He feels like him in moments like these, moments where he snaps and his face burns with borrowed anger. He stares more at the food, willing it to give him the answers— to what, he’s not quite sure. The broccoli that’s stood in for his dad remains at the end of his fork, uneaten. Suddenly, the task of bringing food to his mouth feels monstrous and impossible.

Another sigh comes from the woman to his right. The chair at his left remains silent. “Jason. I can’t do this tonight.” She sounds tired. Good. Maybe if she’d tried a little harder none of this would have happened at all.

Is that an awful thing to think? Jason doesn’t know anymore. Often, he’s wrong about what he can say, but his father never seemed to care. His father never cared about anything but winning at chess and leaving his family for a man.

Jason speaks then, because his hair is curling more every day and his room isn’t very clean yet but chromosomes have to count for something good eventually. He speaks because the chair on the left is too quiet, and dinner is never complete without a biting remark, sharp words flung without care, and Jason used as a shield for both sides. His skin is raw from the venom his parents like to spit at each other.

“Why couldn’t you be a better wife,” comes out of his mouth, and he recognizes the words. Jason has never been good at being anything other than his dad.

Thick silence returns. The broccoli finally makes it into his mouth, but even the act of chewing is a chore. He’s not hungry, and he wants to crawl into bed and never look at his mother again. He’s afraid of how his words have dug in, how he’s destined to ruin her just as his father before.

“Eat your dinner,” comes out roughly from his right. The voice is sharp. The face is stony. There is a single, unshed tear. Jason pushes his plate away and stands.

“M’ not hungry.” He goes upstairs without an argument. The house is quiet. There is no yelling, no fights, no lies. No father that read to him when he had nightmares, until he was deemed too old for that comfort.

The dinner table is quiet. Two chairs stand empty. One woman sits with her head in her hands. Her chair is just as empty as the others, and her greatest fear is that her son will figure that out.

A family. Mother sits by herself at a table too big for one person, and she cries. Father is across town in a new apartment, he sits at a table and yells. Child lays in his bed and tries very very hard not to do either.

[mossyclaw]

I should really do falsettober but I keep forgetting 😭

Maybe I’ll speed run it this weekend

[fortisseto]

I'm late to falsettober, but here's my contribution to @lycheelsea 's falsettober day one !

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[lycheelsea]

Unbelievable self-indulgence, but here’s a Falsettos themed prompt list for this coming October :D

Anyone who wants, please do participate and tag me in your art! otherwise, why not observe as I go insane over this musical