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Chelsea Market, NYC, Sunday afternoon [NFB for distance]

A very, very small problem being married to Tony Stark was trying to come up with gifts for the holidays that weren't 1) something he'd already bought for himself 2) something he couldn't make for himself and make better and 3) an island.

Steve tried to go with experiences rather than things, and wandering Chelsea Market, already done up in festive lights, and poking around at the various stands while wearing the patented "don't notice me" superhero costume of ballcaps and hoodies was, in Steve's opinion at least, a swell way to start the season.

He smiled at Tony as they went past the Imports from Marrakesh booth. "We don't have to go to Morocco now," he teased.

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Irving Plaza, Friday Night

Weeks, no, months of anxiety, tension, terror (of being seen, of not being seen) had rolled over Jack like waves. They'd left him restless, sometimes prickly, often sleepless. And yet, this week, after everything-- a sense of quiet had settled on him.

Like he was a real Jedi Master now, or something.

He hadn't expected it to last all the way to gig night. And yet, even staring at the name of his own band (much, much smaller, underneath the much, much bigger name) on the facade when they'd entered early that day-- it'd done nothing. He was cool. Collected. By the time they were backstage, with fifteen minutes to go until stage time, the rest of the band was giving him weird looks. Like they'd expected him to be plastered against the roof again.

And then the lights dimmed. His stomach folded in on itself, collapsing into a limitless void-- He took a deep breath. It released.

Biggest show they'd ever played.

( And he felt fine. )

[[ open to anyone who has a reason to be here ]]

Four Seasons Baltimore, Wednesday Evening

Tomorrow was the Americans' Thanksgiving, which meant that Blathers had very kindly offered Steven the day off. Which he normally might not have bothered with, but Watts had pointed out it gave them an opportunity to extend their date night with an overnight stay.

More importantly, as autumn marched closer to winter, the outdoor skating rinks were starting to pop up around the city, including one that could be paired with a dining experience ~~that was totally open now and not in a week and a half because it's pretend and we say so~~.

So after they were checked in to their room, Watts and Steven headed up for dinner.

"Isn't this charming?" Watts said, as he opened the door into their private 'cabin'.

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The Creepy, But Comfortably Furnished Mansion in the Woods, Monday Night

Liliana was going to send her steward to collect the remaining beanbags, braziers, blankets, and board and beverages, but as she and Ignis entered the mansion, she had a far more important duty to attend to first. "Get rid of this," she ordered, thrusting the lavender popcorn that Hannibal had made into his hands.

Her steward bowed, taking the popcorn tin. "Yes, Mistress."

"I don't wish to smell even the slightest trace of lavender, here or anywhere on the grounds," she continued, breezing past him and into the house proper.

"Of course not, Mistress."

"Very good," she said, and staunchly refused to think about it again.

[Mostly establishy and NFB (I tell myself, lol)]