Amy Santiago

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Fuck Tik Tok, the only thing I can hear when Mr. Loverman comes on is "To my dear Historia-" I'M CRYING SO HARD, THIS IS EMBARRASSING. I'M NO FUCKING MACHO MAN, NOT ONE BIT.

"All right. You know the drill, we've been living and breathing this operation for years. It goes down today, and we only get one shot. Thanksgiving twenty-seventeen, the meeting of the parents. The objective is clear, they will laugh, they will bond, and when the time is right our fathers will share a hug at the end of the night. It will be weird, but in a good way." You finished, standing directly in front of your fiancée.

"Oh my god, what is that photo?"

"I put this together last minute, it was the only one I could find." You shrugged, beaming proudly at a very much disturbed Amy. "Now, onto our targets. First we have the Santiagos, Camila and Victor. They are traditional, reserved, and like their daughter, controlling."

"I wouldn't say I'm controlling. I would say I'm Type A. You should write Type A there instead of controlling."

"Vivid example of what we're up against. Now then, on the other side, we have the Y/LN's; Steven and Victoria. They are perfectly normal, no known flaws." You rushed, avoiding Amy's blank stare. "All right fine. My dad's a selfish drunken slut and my mom's an abusive homophobe. But we move, Amy, we move!" 

"This is gonna be a disaster." Amy groaned, holding her head in frustration.

"I knew you'd say that! Which is why we have this, a list of thing's they have in common." You grinned, motioning proudly to your very detailed whiteboard of information. "We can use it to grease the conversation."

"Ooh, convo grease! This is perfect!" Amy grinned, moving to stand next to you and your whiteboard. "Okay, our dad's both golf. Our mom's both paint. Oh! They're all into politics. All four of them have hair..."

"Yeah, but that's bottom of the barrel stuff. We're not gonna have to use that."

"Oh, you did a lot of work on this. I'm really impressed."

"Oh, well you know. It's really important to me. I feel like it's a chance for me to finally have the big family Thanksgiving I never got as a kid."

"Oh, babe. It's gonna be amazing." Amy reassured, leaning up to kiss you with one arm wrapped around your neck.

"Are you erasing the word controlling behind my back while we kiss?" You muttered, the squeaking of the eraser not stopping.

"No?"



"Santiagos! Hola, Feliz Thanksgiving! Y/N told me you were Cuban." Your mother beamed, opening the door wider for the three.

"Yeah, I did. Which I'm starting to regret!" Amy's parents hesitantly stepped in, Camila holding a wrapped turkey.

"Oh. You're..." Your mother trailed off, finally making eye contact with Amy.

"I'm?" Amy nervously smiled, both parents standing next to her protectively.

"A woman. My only daughter is engaged to...a woman."

"Uh, yep."

"We've met before. Many times." Amy mumbled, glancing between you and your mother.

"I thought it was a phase-"

"Santiagos! Hola, Feliz Thanksgiving!" Your father boomed, shirtless and drunk.

"Oh god."



"Sorry about earlier. I didn't know you'd be coming so early."

"We arrived on the agreed upon time."

"Right, so really early." He nodded, plopping down beside your speechless mother.

"I can't believe you're a dirty-"

"How about golf!" Amy interrupted, sending her own parents a pointed look.

"Yes, I golf. How about yourselves?" Victor forced, gripping his wife's hand.

"No."

"Dad? What are you taking about? You went golfing all the time."

"No I didn't."

"You're remembering when he used golfing to cover up the fact that he was cheating on me. But that's in the past now, all relationships have hardships. Right Victor and Camila?"

"No." Camila smiled, dumbfounded. You and Amy glanced at eachother, vile creeping up your throat.

"This isn't good." You murmured, maintaining your wide and very obviously forced grin.

"I love your art, Mrs. Y/LN."

"Thanks..." Your mother grumbled, not bothering to look at Amy.

"Art? You're an artist too?" Camila started, successfully breaking the tension.

"Yes, bowls and ceramics."

"Oh, canvas."

"Oh..."

"Oh? What do you mean, oh? Are those two not the same thing?" You panicked, catching Victor's intense gaze.

"No, I believe canvases limit my creativity. For me, the whole world is my canvas."

"Yes, and for me. A canvas is my canvas."

"Politics!"

"I believe gay marriage-"

"Hair! We all have hair."

"No, I wanna hear what Mrs. Y/LN has to say." Victor glared, Camila sizing up your mother next to him.

"Oh god."

"I just don't think it's right. Neither does God, it's in the Bible."

"Right. Say, where'd you get those piercings done?" Camila deadpanned, pointing out your mother's ear piercings.

"Oh, well-"

"I noticed your husband's tattoo, the one on his chest. Where'd he get that done?"

"What are you trying to say?" Your father spat, moving to stand in front of Amy's father. The ex-detective stood too, easily towering over your father.

"You can't pick and choose religion, if you want to shame others for being who they are, for being who they were born as, don't turn around and willingly go against what it supposedly states."

"We're leaving, all of us." Camila announced, practically dragging you out the door as well.

"That went...as expected." You joked, earning an elbow in the ribcage from Amy.



Yeah okay. I'm tired now.

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