#i need to get him more squeakies before I go so my mom has plenty of stuff to give him

[nabsthevulture]

Its my sons birthday everyone

[xalphacentauri]

His Fantasy- Yandere Shigaraki x Reader

*TW* Stockholm syndrome/ Questionable consent/ Shiggy being creepy/ C*rsing/ Tr*uma/ Kidn*pping/ Bl*od/ Fire/ Violenc*

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5 Butterflies Words 1,551

Shigaraki sit’s in the same chair he has for two nights now, slouched and staring off into space as he rants about hero flaws. When he rambles like this I try not to listen, mostly because a lot of what he says makes sense. Something he said during my first night here keeps replaying in my head.

‘This false ideal they’ve created just blinds everyone to what's really going on. People are silently suffering and all anyone cares about is an autograph.’

I don’t know why but I understand. Most of my initial fear has totally subsided, replaced by emptiness and a slight curiosity. I know he won't hurt me as long as I play along so I just sit and listen, nodding when he looks at me. Looking behind Shigaraki I see the things I’ve been missing piled in the corner. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days and I feel so sticky. I play with the hem of my shirt seeing it caked in dirt.

“Are you listening?” he asks

I snap my head forward and nod as he takes a deep breath and continues his rant. Maybe I should ask if I can take a shower. I haven't left the basement since he brought me here though. A sigh escapes me before I can stop myself. Shigaraki looks to me, glaring

“Am I boring you?” He asks dryly

“No, not at all. I just-” “What?”

“I just feel kind of gross” I say sheepishly

Shigaraki looks like a fussy child. He folds his arms and straightens his back.

“What do you mean by gross?”

“Oh no no!! I mean, I haven't showered in a few days and I just, you know..”

“Oh” Is all he says, slouching back while looking me up and down.

I look away and try to sink into the chair, praying I disappear. I shouldn’t have offended him. I need to remember the situation that I’m in right now. I can see his thought process play out across his face. I haven’t done anything risky in the past two nights, well except smash him into a wall and give him a small concussion. After a minute or two he breaks the awkward silence

“Do you want to shower?” He asks

I look at him shocked and nod, feeling hesitant.

“Yeah, I mean yes please.” I say slowly

There's another long silence while he stares at me, brows furrowed

“I won't try anything!” I say truthfully If I try anything he’ll f*ckin kill me anyways

He shifts his weight in the chair

“As long as you behave it should be fine.”

With the promise of running water and soap I feel myself perk up a bit.

He continues to stare. I can feel his red eyes burn holes through mine.

“Promise” I whisper, holding up my hand

Shigraraki scratches at his neck, standing up and once again I’m reminded of how huge this man is. He looms over me expectantly, staring down through his light blue hair.

“C’mon” He says in a scratchy voice

“Right now?”

I didn’t expect him to decide so quickly, I guess I really do look as gross as I feel. He gives a swift nod for confirmation. Thinking about leaving the basement makes me a little nervous though, there's more league members upstairs. Maybe I can scout the place out a bit to plan an escape. If I leave while he's sleeping I’ll have plenty of time to get my mom to safety and warn everyone. No, that's too risky.

I feel my legs stretch as I get up. Shigaraki still looms over me barely a foot away, watching me get to my feet. We make eye contact briefly until he looks away and begins walking to the door. I follow slowly, watching his feet scuff the concrete as he walks. This all feels too good to be true.

When we reach the door he turns to me and places four fingers on my upper arm. His grip is loose but I don't intend on testing it. The door creaks open and we walk up the squeaky stairs. I never noticed before but in this lighting you can see light scars on Shigraki’s neck. Some are faint but others are so deep that they leave indents. There are fresh scratches right under his jawline, some red, some pink. He catches me looking and shrugs his shoulders high, ducking his head down and leading me through the doorway into the hallway.

I can hear people chatting and glasses clinking behind a curtain down the hall. The league of villains’ base seems so casual, much less dreary than I’d imagined. We stop in front of a white door at the end of the hall. Behind the door is a typical bathroom with a standing glass shower. He leads me inside and closes the door. My heart speeds up.

Shigaraki closes the distance between us, looking down at me

“Go ahead, I’ll turn around” he says

What? Absolutely not. I look away, feeling my face get hot and panicked at the idea. Alone and naked with a mass murderer who's obsessed with me? Yeah, no.

“Oh.. do you think I can shower alone?” I ask quickly

He shifts his weight, looking at his hand which is still gripping my arm. Adrenaline begins pumping through me. He takes a few heavy breaths and finally responds.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he says quietly

An image of the fire flashes through my mind. I know he’s downright evil but his eyes look so innocent and his features so soft. Even though he makes me uncomfortable, scared and sometimes absolutely terrified, I feel the deep hunger of curiosity buried within me. Why does he look so sweet? I don’t want him to trust me but for me to survive and to satiate this strange hunger I have to adapt. He has to believe me.

“I don’t know.” I answer “But I’m not leaving” At least I was honest

He runs his fingers up and down along my arm, pinky raised, while he thinks. I feel myself shrink on the spot. What if he doesn't like my answer and he put the other finger down? I’m a liability after all.. no he wouldn't. But he could… “Remember what I said?” he whispers, his tone suddenly sharp

His fingers squeeze my arm tighter as he stares at me with such intensity that my blood runs cold.

“If you try anything, I will know and there will be hell to pay for it.”

I nod. He gives me one last warning look and walks out of the room.

With the sound of the door closing I feel my lungs burn. I’d been neglecting to breathe that whole time. I look to the door to make sure I’m alone; I know I watched him walk out but I still feel the pressure of his fingers on my arm. Even when I’m alone it still feels like he's right behind me, watching. A chill runs down my spine and I begin peeling my clothes off. I shake the fear away. I really need this shower, I’ve been sitting in my sweat for three days now.

Hopping in, I let the hot water run down my back, breathing in the steamy air. Even though his threat still plays through my mind, I can hear a small voice in my head telling me to make a run for it. Would escaping even be possible? If I leave or try to leave the league will kill everyone I care about.

Pictures of my mom, Mina, Kirishima, everyone from UA flash through my mind. I can’t risk hurting that many people. Someone will come to rescue me... eventually. I lather my hair and scrub my body. Looking down I see the bruises from the rope encircling my arms. Rubbing over them, they’re only slightly tender but still sting. People must know that I’m missing but do they know where I am?

After I’m fully cleaned I peak out of the shower to find a towel. Oh wonderful, not a towel in sight. A knock on the door startles me.

“Y-Yes?” I respond

The door opens a few centimeter

“Are you almost done?” He asks impatiently

I feel disgusted with what I have to ask but I don't have anything clean to dry myself off with. I take a sharp inhale

“Umm actually I don't have a towel, do you think...you can get me one?” If he takes a single step into this bathroom I swear I’ll scream

There's a short pause before he responds from beyond the door

“Oh yeah I forgot.”

The door closes and I hear footsteps walk away. Okay, so he's getting me a towel and maybe some clothes. I place my back and rope burnt arms against the cool tile wall. Within seconds there's another knock. I brace myself and step out of the shower, I’d rather hide behind the door then have him walk in and have myself naked, on display in the shower.

I run and grip the handle before he can open it. Moving my naked body behind the door, I turn the handle and open it just a little. He’s standing an inch away from me with a towel and some of my clothes in his hands. I look up to meet his eyes. His face is flat and pink with a light in his eyes of an emotion I can’t place. I can feel my face burn bright red as i give him a shaky

“Thank you”

I reach my hand out to take my things, my other hand still gripping the door knob. With the clothes and towel in my hand I begin closing the door, Shigaraki never breaking eye contact with me. The door closes and I look to the mirror. My eyes are still wide and cheeks flushed. With weird butterflies in my stomach I begin to dry myself off. What’s wrong with me? I push that weird feeling to the side and get dressed. When I finish I open the door to find Shigaraki standing against the opposite wall staring at the floor, lost in thought. I go to speak but a voice interrupts.

“Who’s this?” A deep sarcastic voice asks

I look to the voice to find a tall rugged man coming from behind the curtain. Tall, black hair, blue eyes with patchwork stapled to his body. I’ve seen him before.

Shigraki whips his head to Dabi, his expression sour.

“None of your business” Shigaraki spits, pulling himself to his full height

Dabi rolls his eyes and strolls past, glancing to me and scoffing

“Relax, I was just curious.” He complains

I follow him with my eyes as he makes his way down the hall and into a room. Looking back to Shigaraki, his gaze is on me. He looks thoroughly annoyed. I gulp and begin to speak but I’m cut off once again.

“Lets go” He seaths, stepping forward and grabbing my arm

Shigaraki pulls me along with more force than necessary causing me to stumble a bit. Walking down the stairs and through the basement doorway, he slams the door behind us and skulks to his usual chair. I look around at the basement that I’ve gotten to know a little too well. The air is thick and musty, the floor cracked and dirty. I don’t think I can stay down here, it’s too dark, too damp. It feels like I can't breathe whenever I try to sleep.

I walk to the table which is now home to all of my belongings plus food and water. I pick up a strawberry candy and look over to Shigaraki. I think I’ll test my luck. I walk to my seat and sit down. His arms are folded and he looks lost in thought again, tapping his foot. He said yes to a shower, maybe I can stay upstairs instead of down here. I try to summon as much courage as I can before speaking.

“Are you upset?” I ask lightly

His foot stops tapping and red eyes dart forward to meet mine, a puzzled expression on his face.

“What?” He asks

My face grows hot again. Maybe this wont work. “I asked um if you're okay? You look upset.”

He opens his mouth to speak but stops himself, looking more and more confused.

“Why?” He questions

F*ck. I look around the room trying to find something to say.

“I don’t know, um maybe there's something I can do?” I whisper What the f*ck am I saying.

He continues to stare. I was going to ask to move upstairs but I trapped myself. Okay, what do I do. I look down at the strawberry candy and back to him. Standing up, I carefully walk over to him and extend my hand, offering him the candy. He looks to my hand for a moment before reaching out and accepting it.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow, we have some business in the city.” He states

Will I be alone here? Maybe I can leave then, that will give me plenty of time

“There will be other people here and I won't be gone for long.”

I feel the small amount of hope that I’ve clung to deflate a bit. I look to my feet.

“Okay” I answer

“You won't have to be down here for much longer.” He says, looking at the candy “If you’re smart and stay put when I’m gone you'll get a reward.”

“What's happening tomorrow?” I ask

Shigaraki looks up to me with a devious grin, his eyes alight with mischief.

“Something exciting” He rasps

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

[bevvydraws]

Kwami Exchange Students

This might be a mini-fic, I’m not sure yet, but for now just consider anything I post for this AU connected one-shots.

-------------

Marinette knew that the world was full of more odd and mysterious things than she had previously thought. She was a highschool super hero going after a butterfly themed maniac who wore a wrestler’s mask with a suit, after all. But somehow, despite the craziness she constantly experienced in her life, she still managed to get caught off guard.

Because one day, after weeks of Tikki making sad comments about wanting to experience life as a “modern human” (accompanied with longingly watching dancing videos), Marinette woke up to find Tikki missing. But more alarming than that, was that now there was a teenage girl curiously inspecting everything in her room. Thinking it may be an akuma, she looked around frantically for her tiny spotted friend in hopes of defeating it without waking her parents. She tried not to make any loud noises as she shuffled around in her bed.

It didn’t work, however, and the intruder turned to look at her with wide eyes that were somehow familiar, “Oh, Marinette! You’re awake!” The voice was even more familiar, soft and gentle while slightly squeaky.

“Wh-who are you?” Marinette tried to ask calmly, although the stutter betrayed her.

The girl gasped, her hands quickly flying to cover her mouth, “Oh gosh that’s right!! You’ve never seen me like this before.”

Marinette did a once-over of the girl. Her hair was long and bright red, with black roots. She was wearing a long white dress that looked more like a sheet and no shoes. Her eyes, somehow even wider, were bright blue, and held a wisdom that wasn’t normal for someone who looked so young. Then again, nothing was normal about this teenager who radiated energy and power even while looking like she had just been caught in the cookie jar. Wait... cookie jar?

“Tikki!?” Marinette asked, “Is that you?!”

Tikki nodded quickly, “Yes!! I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“But you— You’re so small but now— huh?!” Marinette couldn’t find the words to express her confusion as to how the little creature that could fit in her purse was now the same height she was.

“Well, you see...” Tikki fidgeted with her fingers, “It’s been a while since I’ve walked among humans, and I thought it would help better understanding modern society if I could experience first hand...” She looked to the side, then her eyes widened as if coming to a conclusion and looked back at Marinette, “...that way I could help track down Hawkmoth easier. Mmhm, yep!”

Marinette didn’t bother questioning Tikki’s logic, since she had more pressing questions on her mind. “How are you able to turn human?”

“I’m a god, Marinette,” Tikki said matter-of-factly, “I existed far before ladybugs were even a concept. I can take many forms, just like the other kwamis.”

“So why stay so little?”

Tikki smiled, although it seemed sad, “Easier to help, easier to hide, and it’s an easier form to hold. Especially since our energy is so heavily changed to the miraculous stones now.”

“Oh...” Marinette whispered. “But wait how are you gonna blend in?”

“The same way you and Chat Noir have all this time,” Tikki grins, “Hiding in plain sight!”

“It’s one thing hiding you as a kwami from my parents, but I can’t hide a whole human!”

“You won’t have to, silly.” Tikki smiles, “I have it all under control. We kwami are very good at convincing others that typically abnormal things are something completely normal. It’s how so few know of our existence.” 

“Okay…” Marinette said, unsure, “But it doesn’t matter how convincing you are, no one is going to think walking around in a bedsheet is normal.” 

Tikki blushed, looking down at her dress, “It’s not a bedsheet, Marinette. It’s a dress. It’s just something simple so I don’t stand out.” 

“You’re going to stand out if you go anywhere like that.”

“Well you’re the fashion designer,” Tikki huffs, cheek still blazing red in embarrassment, “What should I wear?” 

Marinette grinned wickedly and dashed to her closet. 

-------------

An hour later, Marinette stepped back to admire her work. She was very glad that she had been working on some clothing she had kept under wraps from everyone, it would be a little too suspicious if Tikki showed up in some of her very-Marinette clothing. Tikki was now fitted with a white tank-top, the words “Lucky” embroidered across it, and light-washed blue shorts. Her hair was tied up to the side and decorated with a black ribbon. Because Marinette didn’t have time to teach her how to tie shoes with fingers, she was wearing simple black flats. 

“Oh, Tikki, you look so cute!” Marinette fawned as the cherry-red-head tugged at her clothes self consciously. 

“I feel so… exposed,” she frowned, looking at herself in the mirror. 

“Tikki,” Marinette said, deadpanned, “you don’t normally wear clothes at all.” 

“You know what I mean,” Tikki huffed, “I’m less comfortable in this form… and it’s so cold.” 

Marinette smiled sympathetically and went to her closet, pulling out an old generic black sweater, “Here, maybe this will help.” 

Tikki slipped it on, and a smile stretched across her face, “This is perfect! Thank you so much, Marinette!” 

“I’m just thankful that we’re similar sizes,” Marinette laughed, “otherwise this would have been a lot harder. Now, how are we going to explain you to my parents?” 

Tikki grinned, “I’ll take care of that! Just be down in the bakery in a few minutes.” She playfully winked at Marinette before snapping, shrinking in a flash of light before revealing a little ladybug. Marinette shook her head, convinced she had seen everything at this point, and opened the window and watched as Tikki zipped out of the window. 

Marinette quickly finished getting ready, grabbing her book bag before running downstairs to the bakery. 

Sabine and Tom barely had time to give their daughter a warm greeting before their bakery door swung open and Tikki shyly stepped in, looking very lost. 

“Good morning!” Tom greeted heartily, “What can we get for you?” 

“Good morning,” Tikki responded, a kind but shy smile on her face, “I’m looking for a Mme. Sabine Cheng and M. Tom Dupain.” 

“That would be us,” Sabine smiles, “What can we help you with?” 

“Um, I’m the exchange student from the program through Francoise Dupont,” she says, producing a flyer Marinette had never seen before as well as some paperwork out of her back pocket. 

Tom and Sabine shared a confused look before Sabine read over the paperwork and flyer.

“I’m sorry…” Sabine says, reading the paperwork to find Tikki’s name, “Mlle. Tikki, but we never signed up for a program like that.” 

With acting skills Marinette had no clue Tikki possessed, tears began welling up in Tikki’s eyes, “Oh, I see… today has been quite trying,” she dabbed at her eyes lightly with her sweater sleeve, “first, my luggage went missing, and now there’s been a mixup with the paperwork. I have no idea what to do..” 

Marinette stepped forward quickly, wrapping an arm around Tikki’s shoulder. “Mom, Dad, I have plenty of room upstairs. The paperwork all checks out, right? Maybe you signed up on accident or don’t remember, but we can’t turn her away.” 

Marinette and Tikki both gave Sabine and Tom their best kicked puppy looks. 

And that was how Tikki became a temporary member of the Dupain-Cheng household. 

--------------

Convincing the school apparently wasn’t necessary, as Tikki had already handled all of that the night before without Marinette’s knowledge. A few forged emails and “Kwami magic”--as Tikki worded it--and all Tikki had to do was stop by the principal's office to get her necessary books and materials. Marinette wasn’t sure whether she was thankful or concerned that everyone was so easily influenced and convinced by Tikki, but decided not to think about it too much. 

“Oh, I should mention…” Tikki said softly to Marinette as they walked to class, “I’m not the only new student.” 

“What do you mean…?” Marinette had a bad feeling in her gut at the guilty expression on Tikki’s face. 

“Well, I talked about my idea with Plagg,” Tikki said softly, “And he ‘didn’t want me to have all the fun’.” Tikki made air quotes, rolling her eyes. 

“But Plagg needs to stay with Chat Noir,” Marinette hissed. 

“That’s the thing…” Tikki said, wincing slightly as she walked into the classroom with Marinette. 

Marinette wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t seeing a guy she’d never seen before bickering silently with Adrien Agreste. 

The bickering stopped when both caught sight of Marinette and Tikki. 

The new guy, with wild black hair and even wilder green eyes, lit up and a catty grin spread across his face, “Sugar cube!” he said excitedly, zipping away from Adrien at inhuman speed to drape an arm around Tikki’s shoulders, “Didja miss me? It’s been far too long.” 

Tikki grimaced, “It hasn’t been that long, Plagg,” she said, “We were on the plane together just this morning.” The undertone of scolding in her voice made it clear that who Marinette was seeing was, in fact, Chat Noir’s kwami. 

Marinette looked back at Adrien, who was looking at her with wide eyes. Well, more specifically, he was looking at her earrings. Marinette’s eyes went to the ring he was wearing, before looking back up at him. 

Oh.

[ebdaydreamer]

New Chapter

Written for @mashikkara for the @b99fandomevents summer fic exchange, inspired by the prompts ‘ 'Moving Houses' and 'Santiago getting a promotion'. I hope you like it!

Summary: Everything in Amy's life is going great: new house, new baby on the way and a promotion that takes her one step closer to her dream of Captain. She's happy - of course, she is - her life is going exactly how she planned. Except there's just one small catch...

[AO3]

“C’mon, Ames, this one is it, I can feel it!” Jake insisted, gently pulling his wife along.

Amy couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. “Babe, you’ve said that about the last three houses.”

“And? Were they really so bad?” Jake asked, “Or did they just not meet up to your impossible standards?”

“The first one was in a sketchy neighbourhood, the second one had a weird smell and the third one was a health hazard!” she insisted.

Jake rolled his eyes, “Squeaky stairs and a couple of broken cabinets are not health hazards, babe.”

Amy bit her lip as they reached the door of the fourth house, “It’s just… with another one on the way, and Mac still being so young I don’t want to have to spend months working on a house.”

Before Jake could reassure her, the estate agent opened the door. “Hi, you must be Jake and Amy. I’m Linda, c’mon in.”

They stepped inside to a spacious living area, complete with a fireplace and huge sliding glass doors that let them peer into the garden.

Linda began her tour, “So, as you know, this place has 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, one of which is just here-” she pointed at a door on the left, “and through here is the kitchen.” She led them through a large archway to the right, revealing what had to be a brand new kitchen in blue and white with an island that could seat 4 around it.

“Now obviously there’s not enough room in here for a dining area, but there’s enough space in the living area that you could find room in there if you need it.” She turned to face them with a smile, “How many of you will it be?”

“Four, in a few months,” said Amy, unable to stop herself from holding her bump and smiling. They’d hoped that they’d be moved into a house in time to have the sex reveal party there, but they were running out of time.

Linda’s smile brightened, “Congratulations! So you already have one? How old are they?”

“He’ll be five next month,” Jake answered. “He’s really excited.”

“Well you should know, the schools around here are excellent,” Linda assured them, “and there’s been quite an uptake of young families moving to this neighbourhood, so there are plenty of other kids to have playdates with.”

Amy’s grip on Jake’s arm tightened: that was exactly what they had wanted. Mac had tons of friends at school already, but most of them didn’t live close by. In fact, one of his closest friends - Jamie - had moved just a few streets over to this house a couple of months ago.

“Shall we explore upstairs next,” Linda asked, “or would you like to see the garden?”

*

Their tour ended in the smallest bedroom, and Linda left to give them a moment.

“Ames,” Jake called, pulling her attention away from the window, “I know there are other houses on your list but this-”

“Me too,” she smiled. “I can see this being our home, where we raise our family. And Mac will make so many new friends, and he can play in the garden, and we can get him that swingset he’s always wanted.”

“Yeah! And we can get a sandpit and some chairs and we can have barbecues with everyone from the Nine-Nine…” Jake trailed off as Amy’s face drop as she was reminded. “And, the Nine-Three once you become their favourite Lieutenant ever.”

Amy had received her results of the Lieutenants exam two weeks ago now, but she hadn’t told anyone but Jake and Holt. There wasn’t a Lieutenant position available at the Nine-Nine, so Holt had helped her look into other precincts, sending a glowing recommendation over with her application, and she had quickly been accepted at the Nine-Three. Luckily, her new Captain (whoever they were, Holt had been very tight-lipped on the Nine-Three, assuring her it would be a great fit and asking her to trust him) had been very understanding about her pregnancy and the transfer wouldn’t be until she returned from maternity leave, so she still had a few months left with the Nine-Nine.

A few months left to tell the squad she was leaving.

Linda returned, peeping around the door. “So, how are we feeling?”

Jake and Amy didn’t even need to look at each other.

“We want to place an offer.”

*

“Charles, please don’t cry,” Jake begged.

Charles just sobbed louder. “How can I not! My best friend is moving away!”

“Charles, it’s not that far. You can still come visit us anytime.”

His best friend turned to him, face red and blotchy, “You mean it?”

“Of course, buddy!” Jake placed his hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Mac loves hanging out with his Uncle Charles and his cousin Nikolaj.”

“Nikolaj.”

“What about Auntie RoRo?” Rosa piqued up.

Amy answered her, “Of course, Rosa. Come round whenever.” Amy gestured around the briefing room, “All of you are welcome anytime.” She was sure Jake would be the only one to notice the tightness in her smile. He knew how eager she was to have the squad over, for them to feel at home to make up for not seeing them at work.

“And, you’re all welcome to our house-warming party,” Jake declared. “And our house-moving-in party, especially you, Terry. When are your next days off?”

Holt interrupted, “If that’s all, may I start the briefing, considering we are currently in the briefing room?”

“Actually, Captain, we do have one more announcement.” Amy could feel Jake shaking with anticipation, knowing he was revelling in Holt’s somewhat tired expression, but they knew he was used to the squad eating up briefing room time. Besides, their next announcement should cheer the robot up. “Now I know you’re all wondering, why the move?” 

“We are not,” said Rosa.

Jake ignored her, “You’re all on the edge of your seats! Amy, would you like to tell them why we’re moving?”

Amy grinned, “I’m pregnant.”

With an ear-splitting shriek, Charles fainted.

“Yes!” Jake cheered, high-fiving Amy, “We got him first time!”

*

This pregnancy was not going as smoothly as the first. Her doctors were worried because Mac was early, and she was a bit older, which meant increased risk. Amy was already on desk duty and couldn’t lift anything too heavy, soon enough she’d be on bed rest.

Her last couple of months at the Nine-Nine being spent like this: it saddened her a bit.

“Hey Sarge,” Rosa greeted, sitting across from Amy at her desk. “Or is it Lieutenant yet?”

Amy fought back any reaction. “Nope, still just Sarge.” She still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell the squad about her transfer. She needed to do it before she went on maternity leave, she needed to do it soon.

This weekend, at the house-warming party/sex reveal. Most of the renovations and decorations were done, the baby’s room was all that was left and they were waiting on Terry’s next day off so he could paint a mural.

“Did you need something?” Amy asked.

Rosa slapped a file down on her desk, “I’ve been staring at this for two hours and my brain is mush. I need a second pair of eyes.”

“Thank you,” Amy grabbed the file, “I’m bored out of my mind.”

Amy spent the rest of the day consulting Rosa on her case. Helping others out had been the only thing keeping her sane during desk duty, and Amy suspected Rosa had noticed, as she had been regularly slapping case files down on her desk claiming she needed a ‘fresh pair of eyes’, or ‘her specific expertise’.

Gripping the file, Amy felt her throat tighten. As much as she loved working with the whole squad, she’d probably miss cases with Rosa the most. Sure, she’d miss working with Jake, and they always did work really well together, but there was something about working cases with her best friend that made her day just a little brighter.

Amy almost told her about the transfer then and there but stopped herself. This weekend. She wanted to tell everyone at once, so she was committing to the party this weekend.

*

The weekend finally arrived and Amy’s stomach was in knots, but she refused to back down. She was a Santiago, goddamnit: when they made plans they stuck to them.

Guests were milling around the house, most of them being led by Mac who was giving them a tour, which seemed to linger for a very long time in his bedroom. His grandparents in particular - all three sets: Santiago, Peralta and Cozner-Holt - were made to sit through a long presentation about his toys.

It was fitting in a way: their first sex reveal party was ruined by the cake being destroyed and this one would be ruined by her announcing she was leaving all her friends.

“Ames,” Jakes grabbed her hands and Amy startled. She hadn’t noticed him approach. “Breathe, you’re freaking out.”

Amy inhaled deeply. “They’ll all be so upset, it’ll ruin the party!”

“Or, they could be super happy for you?” Jake wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “They’ve been even more anxious than you were waiting to hear about your Lieutenant exams results.”

“Mija,” a soft voice called out to her. Her mom, she hadn’t noticed her come over either. She really needed to calm down. “Are you alright? You look upset.”

“Just nerves, Camila,” Jake assured her. “Y’know, pregnancy and hormones. She’s just been a little anxious recently.”

Her mom cooed and Jake stood aside so she could embrace her. She began stroking her hair and Amy slowly felt herself calm down.

“Tell you what, why don’t we cut the cake now?” Jake suggested.

Amy nodded, staying in her mother’s arms as Jake left for the kitchen.

He came back carrying the beautiful white cake (that had not been baked by Peraltas this time) and placed it on the dining table.

“Everyone, if I could have your atten-”

Jake was cut off by the lights going out.

Amy groaned, “Please don’t tell me there’s been a power cut. Nothing good ever happens when I’m pregnant in a power cut.”

Lights suddenly returned to the room, but they were not the ones that had just gone out. Instead, the room was lit up with blue and pink laser lights.

Mac’s face lit up and he started pointing to the back door. “Auntie Gi!”

Everyone turned, to see the one and only Gina Linetti in the door frame. “Correct, Mac! Auntie Gina is here and the party can begin!”

The crowd started clapping: another classic Gina Linetti entrance.

“Gina!” Jake rushed to hug her. “I thought you couldn’t make it!”

She giggled, “Last minute change of plans, Jacob.”

“We’re glad you’re here, Gina,” Amy grinned, her mood thoroughly lifted. “But can we have the normal lights back, please?”

Gina rolled her eyes but clicked a button on a little remote in her hand, and the laser lights disappeared. “Thank you for being my prop man, Charles.”

“My pleasure,” Charles beamed, switching the lights back on, clearly very proud of himself. “But the suspense is killing me, can we cut the cake now?”

Laughter rippled across the room as everyone crowded around the table.

“Ok,” said Amy, grabbing the knife, the excitement beginning to bubble. “We are having a-”

She lifted up the slice of cake: pink.

“GIRL!”

“IT’S A GIRL!”

“Congratulations!”

“One of each!”

Charles burst into tears.

Once everyone had calmed down (well, Charles wasn’t exactly calm, per se, but he was calm enough) and had a slice of cake, Amy knew. It was time to rip off the band-aid.

“If I could have your attention, once again?”

The chatter quieted down, as people turned their gaze to Amy, who had stood up from her very comfy chair.

Band-aid: off.“I got my results from the Lieutenant’s exam. I’m gonna be a Lieutenant.”

Whoops and cheers rippled throughout the room. Her father raced over to embrace her, whispering in her ear, “I’m so proud of you.” Amy felt tears swell in her eyes at his words but fought them back. Not yet.

“But,” she had to shout, regaining everyone’s attention, “unfortunately, there isn’t a position open in the Nine-Nine, so I’m transferring to the Nine-Three.”

And everyone’s faces dropped.

The silence seemed to drag on forever, until Terry spoke up. “Congratulations, Amy. You’re gonna be a great Lieutenant and they’re gonna love you there.”

Some people perked up, congratulating her, but the squad was still clearly tense.

“When do you transfer?” Charles asked, his voice still hoarse from crying.

Amy tried to smile, “Not until after my maternity leave.”

“So you’ll be on desk duty, go on maternity leave and then that’s it?” Rosa snapped.

Her smile dropped, “Well, yeah, but I mean, we’ll still see each other all the time. You guys all have keys for the house.”

“I don’t,” Scully piped up for the first time.

“Me either,” echoed Hitchcock.

“Uhhhhhh,” said Jake and Amy in sync, staring at them for a moment, before ignoring them and turning back to Rosa.

“But none of us will ever work on a case with you again,” Rosa frowned. “How long have you known?”

“Rosa-” Amy began.

“How. Long. Have. You. Known?”

Amy began to stutter, which seemed to be answer enough for Rosa, who stormed off upstairs.

*

Whilst the mood of the party still wasn’t great, it had improved significantly as people chatted and danced to the music. Rosa still hadn’t come down.

Amy was sitting on the sofa, one of Mac’s juice boxes in hand, feeling guilty when a ‘thud’ alerted her to a presence next to her.

“She’ll get over it,” Gina told her. “Once she realises she’s sad, not angry and also super duper proud of you.”

Amy sighed, “I just feel so bad-”

“Don’t,” Gina cut her off. “Don’t feel bad for pursuing your career, your dreams. I certainly didn’t when I left the Nine-Nine. Does that make me a bad person?”

She smiled, “Of course not, but-”

“She’s just gonna miss you, dude,” Gina interrupted again. “Also means she’s stuck with Boyle and Jake most of the time, which sucks.”

Amy laughed, the guilt slowly ebbing away. “Thanks, Gina.”

“Don’t let other people stop you from achieving your dreams: new Gina-mandment.”

*

It was Amy’s last day at the Nine-Nine, and Rosa was still being stand-offish with her. It stung because it reminded Amy too much of when they first - before they were friends.

They were in the briefing room, and Amy had tried to sit next to Rosa, who immediately got up and made Scully switch seats with her. Amy had tried to listen to Holt, but all she could think about was the friend she hurt.

She zoned back in once she heard her name. “-Santiago’s last day with us here in the Nine-Nine before she goes on maternity leave, and then becomes a Lieutenant in the Nine-Three.”

He looked at her, a rare warm smile across his face, “We’re all very proud of you, and we’ll miss having you as one of our own.” He turned back to the squad, “I apologise for being so overly sentimental. Dismissed.”

Most of Amy’s last day at the Nine-Nina was taken up by people coming up to her, congratulating her on the baby, the promotion, saying they’ll miss her - everyone but the one person she wanted to hear it from the most.

It was near the end of her shift when Holt called her into his office.

“Everything alright, Sir?” she asked, lowering herself into the chair across from Holt.

Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “How has your last day been, Lieutenant?”

“Good,” Amy smiled. “Finished everything up,” she nodded, feeling the tears come on, “said my goodbyes.” She carried on nodding, fighting back the tears. Pregnancy and saying goodbye was not a good combination. She knew she’d be emotional wherever she left the Nine-Nine, but the pregnancy hormones were making it a thousand times worse.

His lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. “I just wanted to tell you again how proud of you I am. It has been my absolute honour to be your mentor, and I cannot wait to see you make improvements elsewhere within the NYPD. I hope your time here, with us, with me, proves itself useful…” he trailed off, the guise of formality dropping. “And I am so elated to see you succeed. I know it won’t be long until you yourself become a Captain, and make great change in this city.”

Amy was freely crying now. “Thank you, sir. I just want you to know that whatever good I do, whatever change I make, it will be because you helped me get there. You set the example. I can only hope to live up to you.”

Tears glistened in Holt’s eyes, “You already have.”

*

After crying with Holt for a while, Amy pulled herself together and left his office, heading to her desk to collect her things. As she was putting the last of her stuff in her bag she heard a cough. She looked up and saw the one person who’d been avoiding her all day.

“Look, dude, obviously I’m super happy for you,” Rosa said quickly, making it impossible for her to get a word in edgeways. “You totally deserve this and if you need to leave to get that amazing career that you deserve then of course you had to do it. You’re gonna crush it. I was upset that you didn’t tell me earlier, so we could’ve made the most of your time here. But then I realised whilst I was brooding that I was the one wasting the last of our time working together. But I was too stubborn to tell you that, but now you’re leaving I can tell you.” Rosa finally took a breath, her face getting red as her eyes began to water. “I’m sorry.”

Amy just pulled into the tightest hug a pregnancy belly would allow.

“As soon as I can we’re going on a girls night,” she declared.

Rosa chuckled into her shoulder “If anyone in your new precinct gives you crap just call me. I’ll bring my axe… and my throwing stars, just to be sure.”

The sleuth sisters laughed.

*

3 months later

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Jake asked as she got out of the car.

Amy rolled her eyes, “I’m sure. I’m not your child, you don’t need to fret over me.”

“I’ll send you updates if you send me updates,” Jake offered, getting out of the car to hug her goodbye. “And I’ll bring the kids when I pick you up later.”

She smiled at her doting husband. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

“You too.” He kissed her goodbye.

Amy watched him drive away before turning to the building before her: the Nine-Three. Her new precinct.

Walking into the building, Amy kept her eyes peeled for anyone she might know. There had to be a reason Holt recommended this place so highly yet refused to tell her anything about it. 

“Lieutenant Santiago!”

As much joy as being called that gave her, it was overshadowed by the joy at hearing that voice.

“Captain Kim!”

She turned around to the older woman holding out her hand. “Welcome to the Nine-Three, Lieutenant. I’m so glad to have you onboard.”

Amy spluttered, trying to get past her shock.

“So, a nice surprise?” she asked.

Finally finding her tongue, Amy cried, “Yes! Absolutely!”

“Good! I’ve been so excited to work with you, the wait was killing me,” Kim chuckled. “When Holt reached out to ask if we had an opening here and that you were looking to transfer, I said yes in a heartbeat.”

Amy’s eyebrows shot up, “Really? I thought with the impression the squad must have given, especially my husband…”

Kim waved her hand, “Oh no, water under the bridge. I actually found it inspiring how close you all were.” Kim began walking, leading her to her office. “After Holt was promoted again he reached out to apologise, and we got to talking. He gave me lots of advice on how being so close made you better detectives. And lots of other advice.” She opened the door to her office, gesturing at Amy to have a seat. “The last Lieutenant was an older gentleman. Good at his job, but very resistant to change. I hope with your help we’ll be able to do some good here and make this precinct an actual force for good in this city.”

Amy beamed. “I can’t wait to get started.”

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy. 

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo​: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends. 

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-through! 

 When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark. 

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love. 

Oh. 

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises. 

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam. 

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain. 

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another. 

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light. 

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs. 

There’s blood on the floor. 

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping. 

In other words, he worries a lot. 

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them? 

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that. 

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural? 

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker. 

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before. 

* * * 

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar. 

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks. 

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air. 

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —” 

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed. 

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.” 

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!” 

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.  

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is — 

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly. 

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?” 

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.” 

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?” 

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.” 

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.” 

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.” 

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?” 

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead. 

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her. 

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile. 

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this. 

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.” 

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches. 

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.” 

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope. 

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops. 

“It’s me.” 

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?” 

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.” 

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns. 

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?” 

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.” 

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.” 

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.” 

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.” 

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.” 

“But —” 

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.” 

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.” 

Spencer thinks, I have to. 

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied. 

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that. 

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want. 

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.  

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping? 

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach? 

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life. 

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.” 

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own. 

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue. 

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later. 

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart. 

* * * 

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least. 

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview. 

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before. 

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.  

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning. 

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly. 

“I was upset. I’m sorry.” 

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it. 

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.” 

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again. 

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.” 

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.” 

“Second best?” 

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * * 

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before. 

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning. 

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.  

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen. 

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it. 

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world. 

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan. 

* * * 

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door. 

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle. 

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe. 

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement. 

He slips through the door and follows her. 

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood. 

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now. 

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised. 

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over. 

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed. 

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place. 

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud. 

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.” 

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor. 

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile. 

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out. 

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?” 

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers. 

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them. 

Oh. 

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real. 

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?” 

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins. 

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself. 

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly. 

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now? 

.

.

.

[azozzoni]

Apparently I lost the ask this prompt came from. Idk what Tumblr did. Luckily, I write everything down (and I’m sorry for taking like 8 months to write this).

Anon: Filo’s thoughts after the cafeteria scene, when he realizes he finds Elia really attractive and tries to find out if this boy is really that straight/ to get to know him better

*

It was Eleonora’s fault, Filippo decided, that he couldn’t stop wondering about Elia after he’d shown up that day at lunch. He may not have remembered him before, but he certainly did now.

“So,” he said, leaning in Eleonora’s doorway and she didn’t look up from her laptop. “How’s the plan going?”

“Plan?” she repeated, skeptical.

“To set up Elia with my Silvia?” He said it as casually as he could—Eleonora could be annoyingly perceptive and he didn’t want to raise any suspicions about why he cared about how things were going with a couple of high schoolers. He shouldn’t have cared. He should have been above it all.

Eleonora sighed, looking up from her laptop finally. “It’s not. We can’t seem to get them alone together.”

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be,” Filippo said with a shrug. “What do we know about this Elia anyway?”

Eleonora paused, seemingly thinking. Filippo was a little too eager to hear the reply if he was honest with himself.

“Marti seems to see something more in him,” she said at length, “but he’s mostly just immature and loud and impulsive.”

It didn’t sound too bad to Filippo, who was also all of those things.

“So why do you think he and Silvia would even be a good fit?”

“I just want her to get over Edoardo,” Eleonora admitted after a minute, glancing up at him. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I am just trying to make sure he’s good enough for my Silvia,” Filippo assured her, not bothering to mention that he hadn’t been lying when he said Elia was hot. He may or may not have checked out his ass the other day as he’d left too. “May I remind you, you’re the one who told me to talk up this guy I have barely met to my sweet Silvia.”

Rolling her eyes, Eleonora turned back to her laptop. “If you want to know about Elia, you should ask Martino. Maybe a different point of view would help get them together.”

Filippo merely hummed in reply, but he wasn’t thinking of getting Elia together with Silvia, not right now as he pulled up his phone and texted Martino as he turned from the bedroom.

*

“I’m pretty good at this,” Martino said as he held the battery for Filippo, and Filippo laughed.

“At being a film lackey?”

Martino nodded. “I should consider making this my career.”

“I wouldn’t mind having your pretty face following me around all day, carrying my gear, telling me how wonderful all my shots are,” Filippo said, taking the battery from Martino’s hand and replacing the one in his camera. He’d found this particular spot a few weeks ago, overgrown and covered with colorful graffiti, what looked like ruins on the far side, underneath a roadway. He glanced back at Martino, who had his hands on his hips, gazing around the brush-strewn path. “How are things with Nico?”

“Good.” Martino couldn’t stop his smile as he said it, and Filippo was happy for him, for both of them.

“And this plot to match up Elia and Silvia,” he said slowly, keeping an eye on Martino, but Martino didn’t react except to frown. “Any progress?”

“Elia keeps saying he doesn’t want anything serious, and even though Nico and Gio keep trying to say it doesn’t have to be serious, he doesn’t seem interested.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Filippo said carefully. “Have we considered he might be gay?”

Martino laughed, too long, as though the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “Are you kidding?” he asked finally, wiping tears out of his eyes. “Elia? Gay? He always talks about girls.”

“But not Silvia,” Filippo pointed out, a little annoyed that even the idea of Elia being into guys was laughable. Maybe he had it all wrong—after all, he’d done the ‘falling for a straight guy’ too many times before. “Bisexual people do exist.”

“I know,” Martino said, pausing. “I asked Nico about it once, how he could tell that he wasn’t only into guys or girls, how he… decided, I guess.”

Filippo watched him. “What did he say?”

Martino shrugged. “He said he didn’t choose, that he just knew that he liked me, not because I was a guy but because, well…” He blushed and didn’t go on. Filippo didn’t push him, setting his hand on Martino’s shoulder.

“I’m just saying, there’s got to be a reason Elia isn’t interested in Silvia. Has he hooked up with anyone else this year?”

“Not that I know of,” Martino admitted. “Actually, he hasn’t really even talked about anyone since Gio got together with Sophia. Maybe he’s not over Sophia. I didn’t think he was that into her.”

From the little Filippo had heard from Martino and others, it didn’t seem likely, but Filippo didn’t know well enough to comment.

“Maybe he just needs the right person to come along,” Filippo suggested, focusing his camera on a wall in the distance.

“Well, it’s not going to be Silvia,” Martino muttered, rolling his eyes. “But Luchino is half in love already, so maybe there’s still a shot.”

“I could talk to Elia, if you wanted,” Filippo offered, ignoring the way Martino’s head shot to him, eyebrows up. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know as well. You did, after all.”

Martino seemed to consider the offer for a minute. In the end, he shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. Nico wants so badly to be a matchmaker.”

Smiling, Filippo shook his head. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

He was glad when Martino didn’t ask why he was offering because he didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He didn’t even have an answer to satisfy himself, but he didn’t stop Martino from texting Elia and suggesting they meet up later.

*

Martino conveniently received a text from his mom, telling him to come home, about five minutes after they met up with Elia at the bar, excusing himself and tossing a glance Filippo’s way before he left. Martino was smoother than Filippo had thought, turning to smile at Elia, who seemed a little confused at the whole situation.

Elia was cuter than he remembered, shrugging off his jacket and shoving the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows as their coffees were delivered.

“You were out with Marti?” he asked, but Filippo had no desire to talk about Martino.

“Photoshoot,” he said dismissively, setting his elbows on the table as Elia sipped his cappuccino. “He said something interesting, though, about you and Silvia.”

Elia immediately rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair. “Jesus. I don’t know what is wrong with them. I don’t know how many times I have to say I don’t want to date her before they’ll drop it.”

“Maybe if you gave them a reason,” Filippo suggested, and Elia frowned.

“I have. Plenty. She’s squeaky and annoying and obsessed with that damn radio, plus she’s not that hot.”

“I think she’s pretty,” Filippo said, but Elia made a face.

“Well, you’re gay. You can say that.”

“And you can’t?”

“Not without someone taking it to mean I’d be willing to fuck her,” Elia replied, shoving a hand through his hair as he sighed. Filippo got the feeling he was tired of trying to explain himself.

“Okay,” Filippo said easily, smiling at Elia. “You don’t want to date Silvia. Is there anyone you are interested in?”

For a second, Elia didn’t reply, frowning at his cup. When he didn’t reply right away, Filippo sat back.

“I dated a girl once,” Filippo said, and Elia looked up, eyebrows furrowed, as though he couldn’t fathom the idea. “In middle school, so maybe it wasn’t technically dating, but we called it that. It didn’t last long, a few weeks maybe of eating lunch together, sloppy kisses that I can never forget.” He made a face. “But after we broke up, my friends kept asking who I was going to go after next, which girl I liked. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know really, not until I saw Andreas Rossi changing in gym class. It was like a brick to the head.”

Elia was frowning still. “You think I’m gay?”

“No,” Filippo said easily. He wouldn’t dare to presume anyone’s sexuality. “But if you’re confused, sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

“I’m not confused,” Elia said quickly, glancing up at Filippo. “I like girls.” He paused, swallowing. “And maybe I’ve thought about guys.”

It was a start. He remembered how reluctant Martino had been to even admit that he liked a guy.

Filippo smiled at Elia. “It’s not a crime.”

“My parents might disagree,” Elia muttered, but he didn’t elaborate, meeting Filippo’s questioning gaze. “I’m not keeping it from the guys. It’s just, there’s no reason to tell them. It’s not like I’m hooking up with someone.”

“So if you never find a guy, you’re just not going to tell them?” This was so far from the conversation Filippo had hoped they might have when he’d sat down across from Elia. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, that maybe Elia would reveal some secret crush on him.

Elia shrugged in response, pushing the cup around its plate.

“We could always go out,” Filippo suggested, and he realized what it sounded like when Elia’s eyes lifted to his again. “I mean, I could take you out, to a club or something where you could have no pressure. Nobody you know, no one you’ll have to talk to again, no strings.”

Some people would have hated that idea. He knew Martino would have balked at the idea had he suggested something similar last year, but Elia wasn’t Martino. Elia was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and consideration.

“And you’d come with me?” Elia asked after a minute, and Filippo smiled.

“Of course. I’d never let you go into the lion’s den unprotected. Unless you don’t want me to.”

Elia contemplated the question for a minute before he smiled, the first smile Filippo had gotten out of him so far.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “We could do that.”

Not exactly what Filippo had been planning for when he’d sat down, but he’d take it. It was much more important to help Elia than to listen to his own hormones. And if he caught Elia gazing at him later, looking away quickly, he didn’t mention it. There’d be plenty of time to figure that out later.

[negasonicimagines]

Things Change, pt. 2

author’s notes: this is only split into 2 parts because it’s kinda long. also, I hope the post-credits scene isn’t too weird, I realized there was a good cut-off point but what I’d written after was actually a good way to solidify a dynamic I like and therefore open up the ending a little more

content and trigger warnings: all of part 1, pre-story non-permanent character death, swearing, light sexual tones, implied depression

Yukio should’ve known that you and Ellie being friends wouldn’t bode well for her relationship with either of you. She takes a break to eat lunch and finds you and Ellie sitting together, catching on like wildfire - eating and showing each other memes on your phones. Doesn’t take much.

“Hi,” Yukio says, and the both of you turn to look at her.

“Hey,” you both respond, glaring at each other before laughing.

“What, uh… What happened?” Yukio asks.

“Well, you asked us both to be nicer to each other,” you say.

“Don’t be so humble, dipshit. She just saved my fucking life in training. Fucking Deadpool knocked Cable’s gun and made a shot ricochet off of one of the metal beams on the ceiling. It would’ve hit me if Y/N hadn’t pushed me out of the way. She took a pretty nasty hit. Show her.”

You stand up, Yukio sees the wide hole in your shirt, and she realizes she can no longer avoid the problem of her feelings for the both of you, now that you’re friends.

“Jeez, you didn’t have enough time to change?” Yukio teases, and you scoff.

“I was hungry. Crazy healing factor metabolism, and, of course, crazy healing factor stamina.”

“Just because we get along better doesn’t mean you can more brazenly flirt with my girlfriend. Don’t push it.”

“Who said I was flirting with your girlfriend?” You ask, popping up your eyebrows and failing to suppress a teasing smirk as you scroll through your phone. You could get used to this.

“HeyYukiocanwegotalkforasecond?” Ellie asks in a squeaky tone, at least, for her.

“Sure,” Yukio replies  in a similarly-strained way.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I was just messing around, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Ellie argues. “You didn’t do anything, what you said just reminded me of something I forgot to talk to Yukio about this morning.”

“We’ll be right back,” Yukio reassures. Once they’re out of earshot, she wonders: “What is it?”

“You know how I have my freaky predict-the-future dreams?” Ellie asks her girlfriend.

“Yeah... “ Yukio looks at her warily.

“Can I tell you something without you getting mad at me?” Ellie asks another question, and Yukio just scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Of course! Just get on with it, you’re making me anxious!”

“What if I told you that in some of these dreams, you and I… and Y/N… Are a couple…? Well, guess not a couple if it’s three people, but-”

Yukio sighs in relief.

“I’d say thank goodness, because I had no idea how to address the feelings I have for both of you… But you and Y/N have never gotten along!”

“Well, because she’s, like, totally in love with you, and you and I are in a relationship, so… Pretty clear cut conflict. But, now that- I mean, she’s just so…” Her eyes are drawn to you, sitting at the table looking a mixture of bored and nervous. “Things change.”

“Hey!” Yukio protests, giving her girlfriend a playful swat -  so light it barely qualifies as one - on the arm. “Fine. We’ll work this whole three-people couple thing out. But you’ve gotta convince her,” the pink-haired girl challenges.

“Deal,” Ellie agrees with a smile.

~

You sit at a table in the dining room with Wade and Russell. Everyone’s required to be out of their rooms for the event (unless accompanied by their parents or doing something quick like using the restroom) so that students are easier to keep track of, in case of emergency.

“So, what happened with your parents?” Russell asks.

“Kid, you have got to stop asking questions.The code here is, ‘Are you looking forward to parent-teacher conferences?’”

“Well, we’re in the middle of them, so how useful is that?! I was just curious. Mine died when I was a baby.”

Lucky you, you think, before shrugging as if it will take away the dark thoughts. You envy him.

“Y/N!” One of Yukio’s dad’s, Maxwell, calls out, and you put your upbeat face back on before turning around.

“Mr. Kitsuna-Miller!” You respond, making your way over to him and his husband.

“Where’s Yukio?” Daichi, her other father, asks.

“Oh, she should be somewhere around here… She and the rest of the Welcoming Committee have worked so hard to pull this off, as they always do. Hm… You know, she might be meeting Ellie’s parents.”

“Ellie?” Maxwell wonders.

“Her girlfriend, Max,” Daichi clarifies.

“But I thought…” Maxwell’s brow furrows and he limply points at you.

“That may still be the case,” Daichi once again explains, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “Thank you, Y/N. It was good to see you. Let’s catch up later, okay?”

You nod in agreement, heading back to your seat with Wade and Russell. You and the latter both sigh, bored. While there are plenty of kids here whose parents don’t accept them or are otherwise out of the picture, there are also plenty here who are joyfully reuniting with one or more of their parents, and even some siblings.

You’ll never have siblings, now that your parents are aware of their ability to create an abomination. It’s the only time they’ve ever blamed themselves for anything, and they usually just blame each other.

“Come on, you two! Let’s play some cards or something. Who needs parents, anyway? They suck!” Wade tries to cheer you two up, but only earns glares from some of the parents in the room who overheard.

“I wonder what they were like,” Russell says quietly.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” you advise him. “Building up the perfect parents in your head to take the place of the ones that aren’t there will just make you feel more alone.”

“Well since somebody’s so good with words, why don’t we play Scrabble?” Wade suggests, and you scoff.

“Scrabble?” Russell asks. The orphanage wasn’t exactly a fun-filled place, so introducing him to the random little joys in life has become a hobby of both yours and Wade’s, as well as his other assorted acquaintances.

“You take the letters you’re given and put them on the board to make points, starting at the center before you play off of other played words. Wade and I can go first so you get the gist.”

After everyone has their seven letters, you pull out your phone to keep score.  Wade’s puts down “RISE.” You put down “SEARCH.” Russell puts down “HOLD.” Wade puts down “ELK.” You put down “ELITE.” The game continues, each of you putting down letters and picking up new ones from the box to take their place.

“Y/N!” You turn at the sound of Yukio’s voice. Her parents have found her, and you figure your hypothesis was correct: Ellie and people who must be her parents - a kind-looking man and woman - are with Yukio and her dads.

You lift a hand as a wave, turning around and putting down “PRISM.”

“Fuck this! You’re totally looking at the letters!” Wade complains.

“Yeah, right,” Russell disagrees. “You’re the one looking at the letters, I saw you do it when Y/N went to get a drink.”

“Shut up, the trick is to get her to forfeit due to annoyance so we have a chance,” Wade stage-whispers, and you give him an attempted un-amused glare that really just turns into stifled laughter.

“Y/N,” Ellie gets your attention, now. “My parents want to meet you. I told them about today.”

“Seriously? It really wasn’t a big deal. Russell, you’re on letter guard duty,” you assign, moving the box closer to the boy before following Ellie over to a larger table. Her parents are there, but Yukio and Yukio’s parents aren’t with them anymore.

Time to feel self-conscious, you think, realizing you’re the only one of your trio whose parents hate you.

Ellie’s parents stare at you, seeming a bit awe-struck. You look to her for help.

“Mom, Dad, no gawking, remember? At least introduce yourselves.”

“Josephine, but you can call me Jo.”

“Gregory, but you can call me Greg.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you say, shaking their hands at the same time.

“Where are your parents? We’d love to meet them, too, they must be so proud of you,” Jo says, and your pasted-on smile falls.

“Mom,” Ellie hisses.

“I’m so sorry,” Jo apologizes. “I get so excited that I forget Ellie’s coaching, sometimes. I am really, really sorry, I can’t even imagine not accepting Ellie or her brother or sister for any part of them, that must be so hard for y-”

“Mom,” Ellie reminds her mother once more, this time a little more tensely.

“Eleanor,” Greg warns.

“No, she’s right,” Josephine tells him.

“Thank you so much for what you did. You’re a hero,” Greg tells you.

“I wouldn’t go that far, it was really nothing.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ellie remarks, but there’s no hostility in it.

“That’s not what I meant, I just mean that I heal. It’s not really a big deal, what happens to me. I’m just a meatshield, I don’t actually do anything,” you chuckle. You don’t enjoy being praised for your… Condition. You know it’s not wrong to be a mutant, but that doesn’t mean that it never feels like a bad thing to be one due to the negative thoughts your parents instilled you with about yourself.

“Y/N!” Ellie scolds, looking almost hurt, but you can’t bring yourself to apologize for what you said.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Phimister, but I need to go make sure Wade isn’t cheating at Scrabble. I hope you enjoy the rest of the event, Yukio and her committee worked so hard on it.” You restrain your pace as you venture back to the small table, but it’s hard not to run away from the group.

“That looked awful,” Wade comments as you sit down.

“It was,” you tell him. “Is it my turn?”

“Duh,” Wade says.

You put down “DYNAMITE.”

“Fuck you,” Wade says.

“I’m rootin’ for you, Y/N,” Russell tells you, putting down “YES.”

Wade scoffs, putting down “SUCK.” You put down “THISTLE.”

“That’s not a word,” Wade says triumphantly. “I win.”

“Uh, yes, it fucking is. It’s like a thorn or bramble,” you correct. “Even if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t fucking win automatically, I would just have to put down a different fucking word.”

“Yowch. Tough crowd over there?”

“Something fucking like that,” you admit.

“Board’s looking kinda full,” Russell notes, looking over his letters.

“Yeah. Guess we’re done.” Wade pours the letters back into the box before a final count can take place to prove him the loser.

“Ah, a forfeit. Looks like you’ve won your first game of Scrabble, Russell. Nice job,” you tell your brother in arms - and by arms, dealing with Wade is meant - and the two of you laugh together. Now that there’s nothing to do, though, you sigh. “Can I go to my room?”

“You know you can’t,” Wade tells you, sounding disappointed for you.

“But what if I’m going to sleep early?” you wonder.

“Come on, Y/N, just stay out a little longer. Get some of the whore doors!”

“You mean hor d’oeuvres?” You ask the literally Canadian man.

“Yeah, but whore doors is funner to say,” Wade tells you, before realizing your complete lack of humor. “Just go on to bed, kid, I’ll handle Colossal Hall Monitor.”

“Thanks.” You plod out of the dining room and into the hallway, making your way towards the stairs. You hear someone jogging in the same direction, and turn to see who it is. Cable.

“Wade’s still in the dining room, but he’s busy watching Russell, so your hate-fucking will have to wait,” you wisecrack, and he snorts.

“I heard what you said in there, to Ellie’s parents. That’s real fucked up, you know that?”

“And since when is that your problem?” you wonder. Cable seems intimidating to most, but he doesn’t really scare you. After all, it’s not like he can kill you or anything. You admire his strength and skill, sure, but that’s about it for your relationship with him.

“There’s a lot of people who care about you here. I get that your parents might be ignorant assholes, and you may not be able to die, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel pain. That shot that I hit you with? Most people die of pain before they ever succumb to the actual injury. I knew about your healing factor before today… Earlier, I was apologizing for how it hurt.”

You’re speechless. You nod in acknowledgement of his words before continuing up the stairs and to your room.

Once you’ve finished your nighttime routine and you’re comfortable in your bed, you wonder how much truth there was to what he said. Sure, people care about you, but… Is it really that bad for you to not care if you get hurt? It doesn’t mean anything; doesn’t have any lasting effect. And what’s with Cable’s sudden concern? It’s not like he can relate, his parents love him dearly. Not to mention Ellie’s feelings towards you, all it took was one decision that wasn’t even really a decision to change everything, or it at least feels that way.

You toss and turn with your tumultuous thoughts before eventually falling asleep.

~

Guilt from yesterday pools in Ellie’s stomach and makes it hard to eat breakfast. The way she paraded you in front of her parents like a show pony, the way she didn’t even send a text to apologize for her mother’s ignorant comments, the way she’s reacted to this whole situation, it’s all piling up and-

“Hey,” you say rather gruffly, sitting down across from her. Yukio already sits beside her, and responds with a chipper “Hi, Y/N!”

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” Ellie says in lieu of a greeting.

“It’s okay,” you tell her. “It’s not a big deal.”

“What happened?” Yukio asks.

“My parents and I were idiots.”

“They weren’t idiots, just… I hate fucking talking about this, but, Ellie, you’re gonna find out sooner or later, and Yukio already knows, so… My parents don’t just not accept me. If they found out what I did yesterday, they’d be so disappointed that I didn’t die, and that’s all they’d care about. They’d probably throw in the m-word once or twice and then start arguing about whose side of the family is to blame for me being an abomination, too. So when your parents- So when they looked at me like that, when they called me a hero? It just felt… Wrong. Because all I’m doing is… All I’m doing is making up for existing,” you explain, throat tightening a little with emotion before you exhale.

Ellie doesn’t know what to say. She never expected this; you always seem so happy.

“Y/N…” Yukio sighs, brows furrowed.

“Fuck them,” Ellie decides her words. “Fuck them, seriously. They’re wrong about you.”

“You can’t just say-”

“Why not?” Ellie asks. “I mean, if you’re an abomination to them, then Yukio and I must be… I don’t even know the word. Do you think that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“But what? Fuck them!”

You’re stunned into silence.

“You’re great, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re selfless, you’re fucking amazing, okay? Fuck. Them.”

“Well, I’d rather not fuck them, if that’s alright…” you reply, smiling a little bit. “Thanks, I- No one’s ever been able to snap me out of that so quickly.”

“No thanks necessary, I owe you.”

“Right,” you remember, eyes downcast. Why else would she be kind to you, why else would anyone?  

“But that’s not why I said that stuff just now,” Ellie adds. “I just- How do I even say this? I like you. I like-like you.”

“Um-“ you start, looking to your best friend who also happens to be Ellie’s girlfriend.

“Oh, no, she does, too, don’t worry,” Ellie reassures and your brain turns to Jell-O at her borderline nonchalance. Your lips part because you want to say something - literally anything - and you blink at her.

“You’re going to catch flies!” Yukio warns you. “Come on, you can’t be that surprised, can you?”

“I can. I’m… Me,” you remind them.

“Uh, yeah, exactly,” Ellie says.

“You-” you point to your former arch nemesis/third-best friend, making circles with your finger for emphasis, “-of all people should not be saying that. We’ve been making each other miserable since we met.”

“Well, things change.”

“You just think you like me because I saved your life. It’s not the first time it’s confused someone, and it won’t be the last,” you explain.

“You should just tell her, Ellie,” Yukio suggests, and you wonder what she’s talking about.

“I’m not telling her that, it’s weird,” Ellie disagrees.

“Well she would like to know about the weird thing that she should be told,” you chime in, annoyed at being talked about like you’re not here.

“Right… So, don’t know if you know this, but I have… Dreams, when I sleep.”

“Most people do,” you reply with quirked brows, confused about what she’s getting at.

“Dreams about the future, jackass. And, according to some dreams I’ve been having recently, we’re all going to be in this kind of… Arrangement. And the arrangement is, for lack of a better word, good. So, it wasn’t you saving my life that made me see you differently. I’ve just been having some internal issues that I finally got over.”

“Wait, are you saying that because you had wet dreams about us having a threesome and you think they’re the future and not just your brain processing your rivalry with me weirdly, that we’re meant to be in some sort of ‘arrangement’?” You’re skeptical, to say the least.

“The prophetic dreams feel different, okay? And they weren’t all-“ She cringes at the term she’s about to use before continuing: “-wet dreams.”

“But some were?” You inquire, amused. Ellie’s cheeks turn red pretty quickly, the girl is a deep blusher and it’s honestly adorable.

“Shut up!” She lashes out, embarrassed. “I mean, I’m sorry, okay? For all of it. Can you just give me an answer?”

“An answer?” She hasn’t asked you anything, only made some confessions.

“You didn’t actually ask her out,” Yukio says quietly to her girlfriend, who puts her face in her hands and groans.

“Do you want to be a thing? With me, and Yukio? Like, a three-girlfriends thing?” Ellie asks, still not looking up.

“Yukio, you haven’t really said a lot. What do you think?” You ask your friend nervously. You’re definitely into her, and feelings for Ellie are forming within you, especially during these past few days.

“I’m down, I told Ellie that yesterday. The conditions are just that she has to convince you.”

“But- I mean, I don’t have a lot of friends. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll have… Pretty much no one. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea, as lucky as I’d be to be with you two… But if I say no now then that could also ruin our friendships.”

“Don’t worry about all that, okay? I promise I’ll be your friend as long as you don’t do something absolutely terrible, and even then it’d vary case by case. I love you,” Yukio reminds you of a promise she’s made to you many times before, one she’s kept.

“Alright. Consider me convinced, then,” you decide, a smile tugging at your lips. Ellie looks up at you and can’t help but share in the expression.

“That’s great,” she tells you.

“So, what now?” You ask.

“Um… Finishing breakfast?” Ellie suggests. “Then room transfer forms, I guess.”

“Someone’s eager to make their dreams come true,” you joke, and Yukio giggles.

“She’s not the only one. She talks in her sleep-“ Yukio pinches her fingers a small space apart “-a little bit.”

“Wait, you knew?!”

“Not that they were real,” Yukio defends herself against an embarrassed Ellie while you snicker.

“Stop laughing, bottom,” Ellie jabs playfully, and you gasp.

“I doubt that,” Yukio remarks in your defense. “Y/N… Mm…”

Ellie gapes at her girlfriend’s imitation of her, and the three of you laugh, enjoying the rest of your breakfast together.

After that, it’s to the office. Your request gets approved quickly due to the fact that you’re freeing up a room.

“I guess I’ll get packing, then,” you tell your new girlfriends, and they follow you to your - already old, now being moved out of - room. When you open the door, it hits you like a wave that this has been your room since you were ten.

The first thing you pluck from the wall is a framed picture of yourself and your parents. Before everything.

It’s a bit sun-faded, and you study it for a few moments. Yukio’s head perches on your shoulder while Ellie mumbles something about your nightstand and a TV.

“You were so cute. Are so cute,” Yukio comments, studying the face of the girl before the accident, before waking up in that drawer in the morgue, before the name-calling and the disappointment. Before you changed.

Your hands clutch at the frame to avoid throwing it, knowing she doesn’t even know the full truth of what she’s looking at - not yet - and Yukio quietly offers to take it away.

“That’d be best, for now,” you admit, letting her well-manicured hands take hold of the last piece of who you used to be. She asks permission to show Ellie, and you allow her to, deciding to distract yourself with other pictures. Some are with old friends that have died or moved on from this place in other ways, others are with Yukio, newer ones are with Wade and Russell. Next, you take your clothes out of the wardrobe, putting the ones that are meant to go in drawers in your various duffle bags and backpacks and leaving your blouses, dresses, jackets and whatnot on hangers.

The girls mostly watch as you pack the materials of your life away, hearts hurting at the mutual realization that this is really all there is. There is no bedroom at home with your favorite stuffed animal that your big sister gave you that you’re too ashamed to bring but miss so much, there is no big fluffy dog to whine incessantly the first week you’re gone to school that will leap on you the second you get back, there is nothing, really.

Ellie kisses you first despite knowing Yukio probably should be the one to do it, considering your history - she just can’t help it. She grabs your face and kisses you.

“What was that for?” you ask, stunned. It’s been nearly silent while you’ve been packing and sorting, so there was little to no provocation.

“I, uh… The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve wanted to. And I’m getting to know you really well right now,” Ellie bashfully explains.

“Huh. Fair enough,” you decide, and she scoffs. It’s not mocking, more of a sound that says ‘typical Y/N’ and makes you smile softly. The smile is kissed off your face by Yukio and replaced with a sly grin. “Probably shouldn’t make Ellie’s dreams come true all over my clothes. Try whatever strategy this is later and we’ll see,” you tease.

“It’s not a strategy, we just lo...ike you,” Yukio stumbles over her words and you blush a little.

“Alright, I think we can start moving the stuff I’ve set aside, and then we can get help with furniture stuff later,” you decide. The girls nod, and this gets done quickly. You send your new partners ahead of you to dinner, telling them you need to think about where your pictures and trinkets will go, because you do.

Eventually, though, you end up just sitting on the floor and looking at your new surroundings. It makes sense to move, the girls don’t want you to be or even feel left out, but it’s hard to imagine fitting into this room with two other people when you’re so, so used to being alone.

But when there’s a knock at the door, and you answer it to find Cable with some Command Strips - grumbling about the school having the budget to redesign their suits every five goddamn seconds but not enough to patch some holes in the wall from good old fashioned hammer and nails - you’re reminded that things change.

post credits scene:

He looks at the first picture you hand him, the one of you and your parents.

“Hm,” he says, looking from the picture to you and asking bluntly: “Why keep this one?”

You give him a pointed look.

“Well, if they disowned you, I’d assume they surrendered all the pictures. So why just this one?”

You know a man like him wouldn’t ask if he didn’t truly want to know, so you don’t bother toying with him and delaying the inevitable. It’s not a secret, just the answer to a question that’s never asked. “Because I drowned in the lake in the background that day.”

“Hm,” is all he says - he says that a lot, probably - before attaching new Command Strips to the back and putting it with the pictures Ellie and Yukio have with their own families.

[silver-wields-a-pen]

Illthdar High: An au fan fiction

Tuesday Afternoon

Nyima checked her watch as she hurried down the side-walk. She kept her head down, ignoring the occasional call out from passing creeps. A familiar voice made her glance up. Is that the janitor? She shuddered and pulled her long, dark hair over part of her face in an attempt to hide. She had roughly half an hour before she had to be at Vyxen’s, which gave her plenty of time to drop off the mail for her mom and then pop into the nearby GameStop to see if the new Final Fantasy game was in stock. Her mother didn't let her preorder it and the last time she’d checked they were all sold out. It was a soul crushing experience. She almost threw herself on the floor in a fit of misery. Only the thought of being looked at by everyone stopped her. If it's not here today, I really will scream. The lie made her giggle.

Ten minutes later and her letters were safely in the mailbox and a wall of games were in front of her. She bounced on her toes with excitement. It's here! It's here! I can play it! Yay! Tunnel vision got her across the store in record time, but not without gracelessly crashing into someone on the way. “I’m so sorry!” Panic swept her game-induced euphoria to the side. “I’m so, so sorry!” She repeated, crouching down to grab the game the other person dropped. 

“Uh, um.. no. No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

The strangled voice was too familiar for Nyima not to realize who it belonged to. She froze and went cherry red. Oh my god, no no no way, not him! Anyone but him! Let me die! This was the worst thing that could happen and it took every ounce of bravery not to just drop the game and run out of the store.

She stayed frozen in place, fingers curled around the game box. She stared so hard at the pair of sneakers at the edge of her vision she could draw them with her eyes closed. The tension was so thick she thought she'd drown in it and she wished she could.

“You can’t drown in feelings, they’re not substantial. Same for evaporating, so stop thinking it.” She could hear Rae’s voice in her head, speaking too much logic for her liking. “Can't stay on the floor either. They'll close eventually.”

You're not my friend anymore. Mustering all the courage she could scrape together, Nyima stood up. She left her gaze on the floor until she forced herself to look up. Jingyi was wearing a gaming t-shirt and a Pokemon beanie. He looks so cute. “Hi, Jingyi,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible even to her own ears. He's so cute, he's super cute! Look at that cute smile and the way his hair looks perfectly messy and his eyes are so kind and warm and I RAN RIGHT INTO HIM! I'M SUCH A LOSER! She was so mortified she could die.

So could he. Jingyi was used to people running into him, so he didn't mind until he saw who it was. He thought he’d have a stroke when she mumbled apologies, so he kept a hand solidly on his inhaler in his pocket just in case. He took a deep breath, trying to commit the flowery scent of her shampoo to memory because he’d probably never be this close to her again. Or maybe he would. This was a good chance to talk to her. Richard told him to seize opportunities when they came his way and this was as good an opportunity as he would ever get. Yes! I’m going to talk to her. Decision made, he straightened up and smiled until his cheeks ached. “You play games?” He rolled his eyes at himself. Smooth move, dork. Of course she plays games. Why would she be in here if she didn’t?

“Yeah,” Nyima replied. Her voice was soft and her eyes darted around, looking at everything but him. Her face tinted pink and if he wasn’t already stupidly head over heels for her, he would be now. “You too?”

“Yeah,” he responded. Silence overtook them again.

“Oh! Here.” She pressed his game back into his hands and made to leave.

Fearing he was losing his first real chance to talk to his dream girl, Jingyi blurted out the first thing he could think of that wasn’t about how beautiful she was. “Have you ever played?” He gestured to the Mortal Kombat game in his hands.

“No.” Nyima stopped mid-stride and turned back to face him, keeping her eye line level with his chin. Her hands fiddled with the cuffs of her cardigan. “Is it good?”

“Yeah,” he said for the second time. He chuckled, awkward, and she looked up at him. They both smiled. “You should try it sometime. My favorite character is Sub Zero, he can control ice––”

“Like Shiva!” Nyima perked up a little. She held up the game box in her hands although it didn't have a picture of the character she meant on it. “Shiva from Final Fantasy, I mean. She's really cool.” She giggled like a nerd at her pun. “I couldn't be like that; I hate being cold.” She shut up when she realized she was rambling, wary of looking like a bigger idiot than she already had.

Jingyi laughed. She's so cute. “I don’t like the cold either,” he confessed, his formerly inexistent confidence sparked to life when the corners of her lips rose. “Shiva sounds like a cool character, no pun intended. Her and Sub Zero would probably make an awesome team. M-may––” he stuttered as his courage fled the shop. No, come back! I need you! Shit. “Erm, maybe if you want, we could, like, maybe play together sometime? You could show me Final Fantasy and I’ll show you Mortal Kombat?”

Nyima squeaked. It sounded like a date. She scuffed her shoe against the floor and tugged on her cardigan.

“Ok,” Jingyi said, deflating after guessing she was about to say no.

Nyima sucked in a breath and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and whispered, “Yes, please.”

Jingyi nodded, dejected. “I figured a girl as pretty as you would––” His brain caught up to her reply and he looked at her, incredulous. “Seriously?”

Nyima was tense and nervous as a rabbit seen by a lurcher. She jerked her head in a yes, clutched her game to her chest and ran towards the tills calling in a squeaky voice, “Text me!”

~*~*~

Zercey was so done with today’s practice and it just began. First, she had to deal with yelling at the JV squad members who showed up late. Their captain was still out sick and the assistant captain wasn’t even good at pretending to be mean. I mean, really, a good captain has to be good at both cheering and leading. This isn’t a Miss Congeniality contest. That mess dealt with, she had to focus on her own squad to make sure they had their routine down for the pep rally and game that weekend. They had a big week ahead of them, and if the last few practices were any indication, they’d be preparing until the last possible second. Today they were in the gym as their coaches decided it was best to separate them from the distraction that was the football team.

Zercey got in formation for the beginning of their halftime routine. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, one, two... She counted along in her head as she lost herself in the sound of the groups' shoes squeaking on the floor in time to the music playing. She concentrated on making her movements precise, locked elbows, light feet. Left hurkie, toe touch… She knew her jumps were good and could see out of the corner of her eye that the rest of the squad was hitting the tempo as well. Round off, back handspring. She used the momentum at the end of her flip to propel herself higher up and back, hands above her head and legs tucked, so that her ending position was the setup for the first stunt. As one, her bases gave a slight pulse down and then she shot up, their arms extended fully overhead as she grabbed her leg with one hand and blew a kiss to the audience with the other. That was where she belonged: high above the crowd, center stage, with all eyes on her. Her confidence sufficiently boosted, she got into the groove, moving more from muscle memory than conscious effort. As she let her mind wander, she thought about Lerki. Damn that beautiful jerk! Why did he insist on messing with her and sending stupid mixed messages? He ignored her almost all day after his teasing in English class, and she found him flirting with every person with a B cup or bigger every time she saw him.

But, when she was leaving the gym after a late practice, there he was, waiting for her in the parking lot. 

“Hey,” he said in that annoyingly sexy voice of his. She huffed and tried to walk by him, but he caught her wrist and spun her around. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Oh? I thought you might have been waiting on one of those bimbo underclassmen,” Zercey snapped, yanking her wrist out of Lerki’s grasp and walking away, nose in the air. If he thinks he can just flirt with anyone right in front of my face, and then come back as if nothing happened, he's got another thing coming.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Lerki cooed, catching up and snaking an arm around her waist. “Come on, sweetness, come hang out with me. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even drive you home.” He smiled suggestively and Zercey felt her resolve crumbling.

“Fine,” she agreed. And that was how she got an awesome new bracelet and lose an equally awesome bra in his car. It was a good night. She was still a little giddy when she walked into school this morning, remembering how warm his hands had been when he teasingly trailed his fingers along her thighs. That giddy feeling persisted all the way up until she saw him chatting up another freshman in the hallway. He was lucky she didn’t punch him right there and in front of everyone. 

The music ended, and the squad walked over to their coach and choreographer. When she was in school, her team won Regionals three years in a row and Nationals twice. She was even more competitive than many of the girls on the team, and Zercey could tell by the thin line of her mouth that whatever notes she had for them, they wouldn't be good.

“We showcase this routine in four days and you all still don’t have the timing right,” she began, disapproval ringing in her voice. “The first tumbling pass is beyond sloppy. Curran, I only saw four back handsprings, what happened to the fifth? And do you care to tell me why your full became a tuck?” Zercey had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling at him right alongside her. Curran knew better than to switch up any of the flips this late in the game. At least he had the decency to hang his head and look sorry. She continued giving notes to the rest of the group, addressing Zercey last.

“Stay focused. Halfway through and your eyes look dead. I don’t care what else is happening around you. As a flyer, and as captain, there is no excuse for half-baked facials. Charm the crowd or else I’ll change the stunt groups.” Addressing the team at large she said, “I’ve seen enough of the dance, line up for the cheer.”

Dismissed, the squad walked back onto the floor, mentally preparing themselves for the hard work ahead of them.

Inwardly cursing Lerki for being the reason for getting reamed out, Zercey took a deep breath as she found her starting position. 

~*~*~

“Are you going to go to the dance on Saturday?” Raemina asked all of a sudden. She was sitting on Vyxen’s bed, splitting her concentration between completing flashcards they would need for their study session and watching Vyxen agonize over where to put the book she’d just finished on the shelves.

“Probably not,” Vyxen responded offhanded, grey eyes scanning her shelves for the sixth time. This book was the fourth in a set, but it was a different color than all the others. It would bother her not to keep the set together, but it would also bother her to ruin the color system she had in place. “Do you think it would look weird if I bought a cover for it so the color would match all the others?”

“I don’t think anyone but you cares what your bookshelf looks like.” Rae tried not to be amused, but she’d never seen a teenager so bothered by book colors before. “You will give yourself grey hairs if you keep that up.”

“No one would notice.” Vyxen struck a pose and dramatically flipped her platinum colored hair over her shoulder mimicking a gesture she’d seen Scyanatha do in the hallway. She placed the book down on her desk, resolving to go ahead and buy the cover before she shelved it, so that way everything would be in order. She made to return to the bed to help with flashcards, one knee pressing into her floral mint and coral bedspread, when she heard someone flying up the stairs.

A second later Nyima busted into her room, out of breath and looking panicked. “I think I have a date with Jingyi,” she wheezed as she bent over to catch her breath.

“What!?” Raemina jumped off the bed so fast she tripped. She grabbed Nyima by the wrist and dragged her over to the bed, jaw dropping lower and lower as Nyima told them the story of what happened in the video game store. “Are you serious!? This is amazing!” She hugged her until Nyima said she couldn't breathe.

“You’re really going to go to his house?” Vyxen was less ecstatic than Rae, but only because her mind was preoccupied by all the things two teens could get up to at someone’s house and it was threatening to make her faint. “Are his parents going to be there?”

“Hopefully not!” Raemina was giddy with excitement and a little jealous. Mostly she was happy. Nyima was the first of the three of them to get a date; this was a huge deal! “Maybe you guys will make-out!” She pressed on, ignoring how both Nyima and Vyxen flustered at the suggestion. “Do you think he’ll ask you to the dance? We’ll all have to go then, it will be amazing. We could go dress shopping and––”

“How's Rhys doing?” Nyima asked Vyxen, desperate to change the subject. She bounced off the bed and away from Rae’s grasp to inspect the chubby black goldfish lazily swimming around the large tank Vyxen kept beside her desk. “Is he still sick? He looks like he’s doing better. I researched what could cause it, I think it might impress the interviewer when I apply for veterinarian school for me to know about fish. Few people would care about things like that.” She trailed a fingertip across the glass and watched in amusement as Rhys followed it.

“No one cares about the fish!” Raemina noticed the attempt to change the subject and she wasn’t having it.

“I care about the fish…” Vyxen grumbled, pouting when her fish followed Nyima’s hand. Rhys never did that for her.

“Ok, whatever, we all care about the fish and he’s fine. Guys! This is serious. We have to go to the dance now, we have to.” If she could get them to agree she could ask Rhovan to be her date! This was perfect!

Nyima and Vyxen shook their heads. “I don’t really want t––”

“Vyxen, you’re going,” Raemina informed her, refusing to even let her suggest that she wasn’t. “It’ll be great, come on! We can get cute dresses, Nyima can dance with Jingyi and we’ll get to see that awesome new DJ! It’ll be so much fun! And––” Rae tried to persuade, dancing across the room to Vyxen’s computer to bring up Youtube. “Touch,’ by Little Mix poured from the speakers “––we can all dance together! We’ll show the Barbie club that they’re not the only ones with moves.”

“I don’t want to show them anything,” Nyima muttered under her breath. She tried to avoid Scyanatha and her friends and she’d like to keep doing that until she graduated and never had to see them again.

“Come on! I know you two know the moves!” Rae rocked her hips all the way down to the ground and popped her tiny butt out to the best of her capability, sending a wink over her shoulder.

Vyxen and Nyima giggled, rolling their eyes but joining in. Rae was too stubborn to let them off easy. Soon the room was full of pop music, laughter, and dance moves no one would expect from three perpetually shy and nervous girls. Butts were dropping to the floor, thighs were spreading wide and hair was being flipped every which way. They’d watched the music video enough at sleep overs to be able to follow the moves fairly well.

They were on one of the best parts of the song, all with their hands in the air and their hips thrusting forward, when a wolf whistle followed by the sound of clapping and loud laughter from the doorway caused them all to freeze in place.

Salem leant in the doorway with an evil smirk on his face, and Date and Rhovan were right beside him.

“Salem!” Cheeks burning, Vyxen stormed over to the door, screaming, “Get the fuck out!” She slammed it in his laughing face.

~*~*~

“I’m quite disappointed in you two,” Principal Chiyoko tutted from behind her desk. “Not only is smoking very damaging to your health, but we strictly prohibit such behaviour on school property.” She shook her head as she talked, desperately searching for a way to connect with the two students in front of her, who seemed to ignore her good advice at every turn.

Rhoe grumbled, arms folded tight against her chest and legs splayed in front of her. Cowan sat beside her looking bored. They were used to Ms. Chiyoko’s lectures. They'd received one at least once a week since school started. She tried everything: appealing to their good natures, suggesting they join a club so they could take up new hobbies and make friends, even going so far as to halfheartedly threaten to pull their parents in for a meeting. Unfortunately, she found it difficult making her soft and light voice sound firm. It was a challenge to get people to take her seriously.

“I’m afraid that this puts me in a rather difficult position. I can let you off with a warning this time, but if this happens again, you must serve an in-school suspension.” 

“What? That’s fucking bullshit! What kind of fucking joke is this shit?!” Rhoe let out a string of expletives.

Principal Chiyoko blinked, startled. “Now, young lady, I won’t have anyone speaking like that in my office.” She fixed the two with the sternest look she could muster. “For that outburst, young lady, I’m giving  you both a detention! You’ve dragged your friend down with you, doesn’t that make you feel bad?”

“No,” Rhoe replied bluntly.

Cowan snickered beside her.

Mrs. Chiyoko looked devastated, shrinking into her too-big yellow suit jacket and mumbling for the two of them to see the assistant principal, Ms. Queline for their detention slips.

Queline shot the two a scathing look when they exited the office. They were there every day, but no matter how many times Cowan and Rhoe got in trouble, they still caused mischief. Delinquents, the both of them, Ms. Queline thought savagely. If it were up to her, detentions would be a much more serious matter. What kids these days needed was a strong hand, none of this mollycoddling parents liked to do with them. Kids needed to learn respect even if that meant the hard way.  And they would use detention for something useful, like deep-cleaning the science labs; something where they worked with their hands and really thought about the consequences of their actions, not just another hour and a half of falling asleep and doing homework in a classroom. She sighed as she finished writing up their detention slips. “If I see you in here one more time before the end of the semester, you’ll be spending the entirety of your in-school suspension scraping gum off the desks and scrubbing this school from top to bottom, do you understand me?” She snapped, throwing the two slips of paper at them and ordering them to get out of her sight.

Detention used to be all in one room, but ever since someone found a used condom under a desk, Principal Chiyoko decided the best idea was to split it between two genders. So Rhoe stalked off to one room and Cowan walked into the other room, only to see Xyl and another underclassman whose name he didn’t know.

“What’re you in here for?” Cowan asked Xyl as he took the desk next to him. Better being stuck with someone he knew than spend the next ninety minutes in boredom. 

“Got caught passing notes.” It was true. In class earlier that day, he had tried to slip Date a piece of paper for some new Khrome ideas, but the idiot wasn’t paying attention, so they stuck him in detention when they were supposed to be having band practice.

Cowan nodded sagely. “Yeah, that’ll happen.” 

“What are you in for?” Xyl echoed, eager to keep the conversation going. It wasn’t often that he got to talk to Cowan without Rhoe there to scoff and roll her eyes at him while he did it.

“Your sister forgot to check the area before we lit up and Uwe busted us.”

Xyl nodded by way of agreement, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wasn’t really a people person, most of the time he just tried to stay out of the way and focus on things he enjoyed, like his band or… The band!

“Oh hey, are you going to the talent show on Friday?” he tried to phrase the question as casually as he could so that Cowan wouldn’t think he was trying too hard. 

“Uhh… I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Oh.” They lapsed into silence once more.

“Are you?” Cowan finally said.

Xyl lost the thread. “Am I what?”

“Are you going to the talent show thing?”

“Oh, that.” He tried to act casual. “Yeah, my band will be playing there. It’ll be all right, I guess.” He linked his hands behind his head and tipped back in his seat, then overbalanced.

Cowan grabbed Xyl's chair to stop him toppling over. “Right, I forgot your sister said you had a band.”

Xyl cringed. He could only imagine what Rhoe had said about Khrome.

Cowan seemed to read his thoughts when he responded, “She seemed to think you all make more noise than you do music.”

“Well, actually we’re more punk than we are a noise band,” Xyl replied, not getting the joke. Cowan’s blank stare told Xyl he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Never mind,” he said lamely.

Mr. Bracken, who had the misfortune of supervising the boys’ detention today, finally looked up from his desk and reminded the students they should be doing homework and that there was no need to talk.

“Hey, I was planning to give Rhoe a ride home after this. If you wait with me, you can get a ride too,” Cowan whispered when Mr.Bracken’s attention became focused entirely on his book again.

“I’m actually heading to my friend’s house after this...” Xyl never wished he had a good reason to get out of band practice more. He might have done it anyway, but he’d never hear the end of it if he ditched practice with a show so close.

Cowan shrugged. “That’s cool. I can drop you off there too. Where does he live?”

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?” Mr. Bracken’s voice rang out sharply in the quiet room and put an end to any further conversation.

“Remind me to never let you talk me into anything ever again,” Rhoe said to Cowan as the three of them emerged from their assigned classrooms. “Mr. Phanuel’s easily amused, and I had to spend the last ninety minutes listening to him and Miu go back and forth in a burping war. I have never been so close to killing someone in my life.” She stalked down the hall, radiating anger as she went and leaving the two boys to fall into step behind her. “And what the fuck are you doing here?” she growled when she noticed Xyl following.

“I offered to give him a ride,” Cowan answered, ignoring the exaggerated sigh that burst out of Rhoe's mouth. You would think Imogen, Rhoe and Xyl would be close considering they were triplets, but he’d never seen a set of siblings that disliked each other more.

“Whatever,” Rhoe snapped. “Just drop him off quick cause I don’t want to look at him.”

~*~*~

“WHOO! GO BABY!” Scyanatha's heels clacked as she jumped up and down and clapped when she saw Seth make a good move in the football game. She didn’t know or care much about sports, but she had bothered to learn enough about this game to know when her man was doing well so she could cheer him on properly. She clapped for a minute longer before dropping to sit beside Imogen on the bleachers.

The same set, interestingly enough, that Imogen made out under with Salem both yesterday and today. Luckily Scy didn’t know this, otherwise Imogen would no longer be sitting next to her if she did.

“Back to what we were talking about, you have to come shopping with us tomorrow Imo, I won’t take no for an answer. That new boutique I’ve been talking about for a month is finally open. Seth’s gonna buy the three of us any dress we want and if you’re worried about that stupid project for English, don’t be. Seth already has people lined up to write it for us.” Scy informed Imogen in a tone of voice that said Imo was going shopping tomorrow whether she liked it or not.

Imogen sighed as Scyanatha flicked open her mirror to reapply the lipstick that wore off when she ‘kissed Seth good luck’ for a full twenty minutes in the locker room before the game started. It’s not that she didn’t want to go shopping – she’d never turn down a chance to get free stuff from Seth – it’s that she planned to meet up with Salem. She’d spent the last month stealing moments with him. A full afternoon with no interruptions left her jittery and excited.

Scy snapped her mirror shut and turned to look at Imogen seriously and she knew then and there that she’d have no choice but to cancel on Salem. “Ok fine, you convinced me. I’ll ditch my study session and come shopping with you.”  

“Fabulous.” Scy turned to her left where a pretty, but entirely brainless lackey sat. “Oh,” she said, as if just remembering the girl was there, “you can come too, dear. Seth can buy you a dress as long as you let me pick it.” The girl was basically a servant, but on occasion Scy treated her and a few other lessers to keep them in line. And since she bought their clothes she could guarantee none of them looked better than her.

“Of course!” Laura was quick to agree, vibrating with happiness she’d been acknowledged. She didn’t often get invited to the shopping trips the other three girls went on and so this was a big deal. “You can totes pick my dress Scy, you have such good fashion sense. I’ve never even owned or worn a dress, so I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Scy swept her gaze down to the pale yellow dress Laura had on. “Uh-huh.” She didn’t comment further, turning away from the airhead, planning to continue ignoring her until she needed something again.

Imogen snickered, unable to feel bad for the idiot. She opened her phone, sending a brief text to Salem to let him know that she wouldn’t make it to their not-a-date tomorrow. She then spent the rest of practice splitting her attention between finalizing plans for the homecoming dance and listening to Scyanatha talk about her new shoes and how she and Seth better end up as Homecoming King and Queen or else she was going to sue to school.

Laura nodded like a dog and chirped in agreement.

Practice ended an hour later and Zercey came strolling out of the gym in six inch heels, head held high with Lerki following close behind her, trying to talk to her.

Scy and Imogen rolled their eyes at the same time.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Imogen commented as she gathered up her bag. “Lerki is only flirting with people to make her jealous and it works every time.”

“Zercey needs to learn how to control her man. Oh hey, you guys should come spend the night at my house tomorrow. We can get our dresses after school and I’ll give you two a crash course in dealing with boys. It’ll be embarrassing if those two don’t go to the dance together.” Scy knew Zercey liked Lerki, and she wanted to help her friend, but she also had an aesthetic going. Zercey was the cheer captain,  Lerki was the quarterback of the football team, they had to be together. Every movie said so, and Scy liked the look the two of them gave their group, so they better get their act together. “Oh, and you,” Scyanatha added to Imogen, making her way down the bleachers to meet Seth while Laura gathered her things for her. “You need a date for the dance. There are two hot football players that Seth says are single, pick one and I’ll make it happen.”

Imogen panicked. What sort of excuse could she come up with to get Scy off her back? She liked none of the football players that was true enough. Especially since they were all more concerned with beating the pulp out of other dudes than they were in having a conversation. But that wouldn’t be reason enough for Scyanatha. “I don’t know if that’ll work,” she said, trying to come up with a good justification for turning down her offer. “It’s just that I’m probably gonna be helping with the preparation and clean up, so a guy would just get in the way.”

Scyanatha pouted. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Seth saved Imogen by coming over and enveloping Scyanatha in a big, sweaty hug.

“Ew! Babe, don’t be gross!” she squealed, playfully slapping him on the arm. He smiled and kissed her.

Imogen was used to their excessive PDA, but was still thankful that Zercey finally caught up to their group in that moment. “Hey Zerce, how was practice?” Imogen was eager to have something to look at besides Scy and Seth sucking face. 

“Great!” she said in that voice that meant she was lying, and probably for Lerki’s benefit if Imogen had to guess.

Lerki caught up, passing them all to walk backwards in front of Zercey. “Are you still mad at me? That hurts my feelings,” he appealed, trying to make her look at him.

She refused and instead turned her attention to Imogen. “What’s up with you? Are you coming shopping tomorrow?” Zercey shook her hand out of Lerki’s grasp when he tried to touch her but otherwise did not indicate she knew he was there.

“Yep,” Imogen affirmed, not looking forward to it but knowing she had to go all the same. Shopping for formal events was a nightmare with Scy because she wanted them to look a certain way and their opinions meant nothing. It was a free dress though, so she couldn’t complain too much. “What color dress are you going for?” she asked, though they both already knew that it didn’t matter and they’d get whatever color that made Scyanatha’s dress stand out.

“I don’t care about the color.” Zercey yanked open the door to Seth’s pristine silver Mercedes and tossed her bag in. She usually caught a ride with Lerki but clearly that wasn’t happening today, which meant that Laura would be forced to ride with him instead.  “I just know my dress needs to be short and hot because I need a new boyfriend.” She slid into the car and slammed the door shut before Lerki had time to respond.

“If she puts a scratch on that door, you’re paying for it,” Seth informed Lerki, clapping him on the back before sliding into the driver’s seat with Scy, Imogen and Zercey and driving down the road.

This annoyed Lerki and he resigned himself to spending the rest of the night texting and sucking up to Zercey until she forgave him instead of doing something better like making her lose another bra. He slammed his own car door shut and drove off, moving much faster than what the speed limit advised and already thinking about what sort of present he would have to buy to make her talk to him again.

Poor Laura, meanwhile, stood forgotten in the parking lot. “It’s ok,” she chirped to no one, fishing around in her pocket for her cell phone. “I can find my own way home.”

~*~*~

Salem stumbled into his room and threw himself onto his deep red bedspread, laughing hysterically. He would never, ever, forget how red the nerdettes’ faces were when they realized their little show had an audience. He wished he’d had a camera to capture the moment. “That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.” He finally stopped laughing and crawled to sit on the edge of his bed while Date collapsed onto one end of an old black couch and Rhovan kicked the door shut before joining him there.

“I don’t know if you’re one to talk about ridiculous things when you’re carrying around a flask of Hawaiian Punch, wearing glittery makeup and claiming to be a child of the night,” Rhovan reminded him and cast a pointed look at the various vampire posters on the dark grey walls and the vampire novels lining the bookshelf to drive home his point.

“It’s an aesthetic,” Salem defended, “and the girls love it. That’s why I get panties thrown at me when we play shows.”

“I have never seen you get anything resembling underwear get thrown at you.” Date didn’t notice a lot of things, but he was sure he would have noticed that.

“You need to pay more attention then.” Salem ended the discussion there before they could call his bluff.

“Speaking of underwear…” Rhovan would never get the image of purple, lace panties out of his head now that he’d had a glimpse of them when Raemina’s plaid skirt hiked up during her dance. “Rae had nice ones, is she single?” He’d always thought she was kind of cute but he’d never paid much attention to her. She was a smarty-pants. He wasn’t. They lived in different worlds and all that jazz. He would have never thought she was the type to pull off ‘sexy’ and she’d just proved him wrong.

“Ew, please do not.” Salem pulled a disgusted face. He hadn’t seen or wanted to see any of the nerdettes’ underwear and couldn’t imagine why anyone would. “I do not need another one of you guys drooling over those brats.”

“Another?” Rhovan questioned, though his voice sounded far-away as if his thoughts were still down the hall and behind the door with a glittery green ‘V’ on it. He wondered if Rae had a date to the dance yet and if she’d consider going with him. He also wondered if all her underwear was lace, but he had to abandon that train of thought because it was sending all of his blood south.  

“Yeah, this idiot,” Salem waved his hand towards Date with a scowl, “has been creeping on my sister for months. You know that song where he mentions a ‘moon haired muse’ GUESS WHO THAT IS?”

“I’m not creeping,” Date corrected, flicking his black hair out of his eyes. He didn’t deny the accusation that the girl in his song was Vyxen.

“Do you know how uncomfortable it is for me to jam out on my bass when you’re singing about banging my sister?” Salem shuddered.

“Do you know how uncomfortable it is for me to appear in public with you when you’re wearing fake vampire teeth?” Date challenged in his usual, bored tone of voice.

“IT’S. AN. AESTHETIC.” Salem slapped his knee to emphasise his point.

“Sure it is.”

The conversation amused Rhovan and he would have egged it on if they didn’t have bigger fish to fry. “Xyl is in detention, so we’re already losing time here, we need to focus if we’re going to get a set together for the talent show.”

Salem held his hands up and said, “I will play any song you want except ‘Ravage my Heart’ or any other song that mentions my sister. I’m not doing it. This is school and everyone will know who we’re talking about.” They probably wouldn’t know as Vyxen wasn’t popular or interesting, but Salem wasn’t going to take any chances. Imogen would be there, and he didn’t need her to think he was any weirder than she already did.

It was this scene that Xyl walked into when he finally arrived at the house. Rhovan and Salem were arguing about which songs to play and Date was in the middle, ignoring them both and scribbling furiously in his notebook. “What the heck is going on here?”

“You missed an awesome dance show.” Salem read the text from Imogen, eyes sweeping over her blunt cancelling of their plans tomorrow and recognized a chance to make himself feel better when he saw one. He said the words ‘dance party’ especially loudly so Vyxen and her friends would hear it.

“How did you get here so fast?” Rhovan asked, checking his watch to see that detention had ended barely fifteen minutes ago.

“My sister’s friend dropped me off.” Xyl dumped his bag on the floor and flopped onto Salem’s bed, trying and failing not to think about how nice Cowan had been and how much hotter he was up close.

“Oh yeah?” Salem tried to wrench his head around as casually as possible to look out the window, hoping to see a glimpse of Imogen in whatever friend’s car she’d came in.

“Yeah, he was nice. Rhoe was mad about it though, so I’m sure I’ll be hearing about that when I get home.” It wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to. “Do you think I can crash over here tonight?”

“Sure.” Salem sighed in disappointment, turning his head away from the window when he realized that Xyl hadn’t been talking about the sister he was interested in.

“All right, now that everyone knows where everyone else will sleep, can we please talk about the set list? In case you somehow didn’t remember, we have a show in three days,” Rhovan practically shouted. It was days like these when he felt like he was the only one who took their band seriously.

“Hold that thought, I’m starving. Do you guys have money for pizza?” Xyl asked, prompting a great shuffling as everyone dug into their pockets to pull out their wallets and discussed what toppings to get.

Rhovan could have screamed.

~*~*~

Back home, in the safety of her own room, Nyima let out a deep breath to steady herself. She waited all of ten seconds after Vyxen slammed the door before she ran from the house after the humiliating episode with Salem and his friends. Today is so embarrassing! I should've stayed in bed! Her phone pinged with a text and she clutched her chest. Jingyi? Oh, poop. Why did I say text me?! WHY?! She inched her phone out of her pocket and sighed with relief when she saw it was just her friends group chat.

Glitteraffia: Sorry again about my dumbass bro. U ok?

Shiva fan 212: Yeah. It's okay. If I had a brother like that, I'd apologise all the time too.

Glitteraffia: LOL

Moon Princess: But, seriously, you guys, we should definitely get pretty dresses and go 2 the dance.

Glitteraffia: Rae, ur sitting 2 feet away.

Moon Princess: You keep ignoring me.

Moon Princess: Come on, Nyima. I bet Jingyi can dance.

Shiva fan 212: I can't.

Moon Princess: LIES! I saw you!

Shiva fan 212: Vyxen, get her.

Glitteraffia: Idkulik him and he likes u and it'd be cute af and pretty dresses.

Shiva fan 212: Traitor.

Shiva fan 212: Ok, fine. When things go Carrie it's your fault.

Glitteraffia: Carrie's awesome and they deserved it.

Glitteraffia: Scy would totally deserve it.

Moon Princess: She would.

Shiva fan 212: Lol ok.

Moon Princess: YES! VICTORY! After school 2moro!

Nyima put the phone down and sighed. She didn’t know why she agreed to it. She hated the mall; there was always too many people there, and crowds made her nervous. Maybe my mom will say no. She wasn't optimistic. Her mother was a free spirit. First Jingyi and then this? If she weren’t such a dedicated student, she’d consider skipping school tomorrow to avoid reality. The only redeeming part of the day was getting her new computer game, and she’d be breaking it open right now if she didn’t still have homework to do. Looking at the beautiful cover art beneath the plastic wrap, Nyima let out a sigh and then turned to her assignments, wondering somewhere between math and English if Jingyi was already playing his new game and maybe he’d tell her about it tomorrow.

By @guardians-of-las-vyxen & @yogiwithabook

[odeuteros-blog]

                --------------------- deutero- ;

                                                               second; secondary: //; (  deu·ter·ag·o·nist :  the person second in importance to the protagonist in a drama. )

           hey what up i’ve got stats homework im neglecting !!

    * slaps the roof of this post * this bad boy can fit so much useless fucking info in it ( including my ooc intro but like , ) 

     ----- alrighty lets rock & roll buckaroos i’m linx, i’ve been on this earth two decades too long,,, and i’m in the est. canada baby. i’m super excited to write w/ y’all and i haven’t written an oc in ten years so bear w/ me & my word vomit yea?

mattias eriksson was born and raised ( for the most part)  in an itty bitty tiny fishing village in iceland. by itty bitty we’re talking a population of about 300 ( pretty much based off suðureyri ). he was the middle child in a family that was ( now looking back ) at most times insufferable.

there’s tragedy somewhere in there. before he was capable of remembering anything. his parents sung praises when it came to his older brother but time reveals all truths. or at least articles and news clippings do.  he’s four ( give or take ) when his brother is ‘ murdered ‘ by a super-human. he’s about fifteen when he puts the pieces together ( his brother wasn’t savagely murdered - on the contrary - he antagonized and harassed the ability harnessing girl until it boiled over & blew up in his face. all too literally. ) finally, he’s nineteen when he gets the FUCK out of there. 

plenty happens in the in-between. he’s raised in an intolerant household. anyone who wasn’t STRICTLY human was an abomination, a curse, a plague upon this earth. his parents constantly spitting venom when it came to the loss of their firstborn son // while matti, conflicted, found it hard to mourn for a man he hardly knew. his focus much more so on his younger sister - who was, well, alive. there. real. 

from a young age, he thrived on challenge. puzzles. anything to exercise the brain. there was always a better way to do something. he was often scolded for sticking his nose where it didn’t need to be - in adult business. eventually having enough of being chased off - he branched out. made some friends. two, in particular, stood out. a brother and sister ;  patrek and magnea. in time the trio was inseperable. 

eventually, a strain showed itself. patrek didn’t fit the strict /human/ criteria that mattias’ had grown up on - but time healed wounds, and his had barely been there. he couldn’t carry his parent’s grief. couldn’t pin that on his friend. but patrek’s secret wasn’t his to keep and it came out - with it came an unspoken ultimatum ; cut his ties with his friends or suffer the consequences with his family. the choice was fairly clear, though no less painful.

knowing there was nothing there for him in his hometown, except a life of fishing, it was time to take leave. the siblings aspired for more just as he did & so the three parted with their respective homes. no goodbyes. no notes. mattias leaves while his parents are at work - his biggest regret to this day is never saying goodbye to his sister. if they knew, he’d never have been able to leave. he needed the headstart. 

like something out of a film, patrek aspired to do more with his abilities and so begun mattias’ life as the man behind the scenes. finally able to stick his nose in ‘ adult business ‘. it was a bit campy - but it was exciting. they lived a life on the road, constantly moving. helping where they could. mattias learned his way around technology, being hands on where he could. however, he never wished for the limelight. did not want to be on the spread of a newspaper. he just wanted to help his friends. there was some petty theft on their part ( you had to eat and sometimes money was short ) but they managed to stay on the straight and narrow. this lasted for three years.

something had to go awry eventually. he’s too close to the scene, catches an injury that initially looked, not horrible. a scar would become a permanent fixture on his skin - but he’d survive. --------- until infection sets in. until it blossoms into something their petty medical skills can’t cover. maybe slapping some bandages and medical tape on it & calling it a day hadn’t been such a good idea. they were still kids ---- and they’d fucked up. 

their hand is forced. petrek and magnea drop him off at the nearest hospital - welcome to crystalline city - and have no choice but to continue on their way less their reputation should precede them and they get caught up with law enforcement. sometimes it was just easier to be ‘ the man behind the scenes ‘. 

one hefty hospital bill later and he’s now resident in crystalline - much, MUCH, larger than where he’d originated. there’s some forgery on his part and plenty of loans and he eventually lands himself an apartment with the bare minimum. it’s a lot at twenty-two with an education that is scarce on paper - but he’s worldly & where there’s a will, there’s a way.

you can’t say he doesn’t have drive. it takes some time to scout out a job but he’s not above some begging and pleading if he has to ( he wants to keep that roof above his head somehow ). haggis tech is his beacon of hope and saving grace * finger guns to the real MVP harriet haggis. perhaps there was embellishing on his part - a resume and interview really was just about selling ones self - but he knew he had what it took to back it up - and nothing he’d ever done thus far was out of malintent. eventually ( more like somehow ) he lands on the radar of the harriet haggis and finds himself as a trainee. godspeed. 

TL ; DR or the simplified summary

he’s just happy to be here.

on an emo note ; the type of person to feel lonely in a room full of people. would rather shy away from large crowds. 

perpetually homesick even though his family / save for his sister / were assholes. they were still his mom and dad. also probably a little heartbroken because the likelihood of them ever looking for him or putting out a missing person notice is slim to nothing and he knows it - probably checked. shit was just too :/ rough. the relationships were kind of shot.

probably checks in on their online activity - discreetly though. like a window into their lives. it’s probably the part of his life he keeps tight-lipped about. partly ashamed and partly hurt. 

& his friends kind of up and left him in the city so that adds to that sweet sweet homesick feeling. since that was his last tie. 

probably also overcoming his conflicted feelings about people with abilities. it’s more like having to correct a negative thought. he knows it's not true - but he can’t help but feel it upon first meeting. oh they’re inherently dangerous. but like ?? he sees heroes all the time. 

wanted/ideas for connections !!

give me that replacement for his little sibling. someone he dotes on. just let him fill ONE void in his life. 

someone who he’s just like ?? attached himself to. something about them makes him feel better. the kind of relationship where he’s put himself on their doorstep waiting for them to come home. he’s that friend who spends more time at your house than their own. he’s pretty solitary but this is like the one person(s) that he likes to just have occupied space?? like they don’t even have to be doing anything - just the presence alone is enough - listen im jsut trying to fill this sense of loneliness in his life don’t @ me. if you want to spice things up this person can be a villain / someone he probably shouldn’t be associating himself with. 

honestly im an angst hoe too so like throw anything angsty at me - enemies, friends to enemies idc. 

friends are fine

GIVE ME A BICKERING. oof i love a good hate/love. 

rivals

someone he might be trying to steer back onto the right path of life idk i mean he’s not squeaky clean but like out of villainy ?? that shits wack.

 he’s my dumb son and i LOVE HIM. sk;ld also my dumbass doesn’t have discord but if you want to plot my IMs are open just like ??? know me and plotting have a rocky relationship. 

[dear-mrs-otome]

Consonance, Chapter 1: Exposition

Fandom: SLBP Pairing: Mitsunari + MC Rating: No Warnings (NSFW in later chapters) Summary: Transferring to a new school, and a new orchestra, is no easy task for any student. Even less so when your new roommate and fellow violinist is a polite but mysterious young woman with an absolutely infuriating twin brother. (2k words, Modern + College AU) Author’s Note: This should be longer. This should be better. This should be a lot of things, but I am too stubborn to not post something on the Mitsun’s birthday, so have this first chapter anyways. There are many more to follow, eventually. MAJOR SPOILERS FOR MITSUNARI’S ROUTE.

It was impossible to be homesick in a violin shop, as long as one never opened their eyes. The layouts might change, the shape of the building or even the people within it, but some things never did. The faint strand of notes floating in from the back room where someone was changing out strings. Rosin and varnish and old old wood on the air, catching you up like a dear friend’s hug.

“Can I help you find anything, miss?” The employee’s polite voice broke your reverie, and you shook your head with a smile.

“No, thank you. I’m just looking for the moment.” At his nod, you turned to brush a wistful gaze over the lovely Hesketh on display, curling your fingers behind your back to keep from reaching out to touch it. Some off these violins cost more than you would pay for your entire higher education - even with having just transferred to a more expensive university in Tokyo.

You ambled further into the store, past rows of cellos and violas and mathematically precise hashmarks of bows lining the wall. Nestled in long cases of squeaky-clean glass was a myriad of chin and shoulder rests, reminding you that you’d meant to replace yours for awhile. Now, before starting up with a new ensemble, seemed as good a time as any.

“Your neck is too short to require a shoulder rest.”

You glanced up from the array, half expecting to see an overbearing employee dispensing advice - but the man beside you was young. Close to your own age, and startlingly handsome. Neatly dressed in a pullover sweater and slacks, with a shock of midnight-blue hair that kept trying to fall into his equally blue eyes - the only thing even remotely unruly about his tidy appearance. He had the relaxed air of one browsing as well.

“Excuse me?” Had he actually been talking to you? You glanced around, but there was no one else nearby.

Waving a hand at the display case, the man fixed you with a flat stare. “The shoulder rests. I noticed you looking. I was merely pointing out that they were unnecessary.”

The first, tiniest spark of irritation flared in your belly, and you returned his stare. “I’m quite sure I know what works for me, thank you very much.”

He only blinked at your reply. “Have you ever even tried without? You are aware that the shoulder rest is a relatively recent invention, and the old masters never would have dreamt of it. Even if they weren’t creating instruments with female players in mind.”

“I am. Very aware. Thank you. But I also know that it improves my vibrato.” You couldn’t believe you were even humoring this…this…patronizing.

“If you require a rest to support your vibrato, that simply means your vibrato motion needs to be changed.” He frowned then, the expression pinching what would have otherwise been elegant features. It figured, didn’t it? The prettiest ones were almost always jerks.

“I do not need to defend my decision whether to use a shoulder rest or not from some…random man at the violin shop.” Tension hunched your shoulders, and you kept your words barely above a hiss. You were not going to cause a scene the first time you’d stepped into a new place.

No matter how tempting the thought was, right now.

“I don’t believe anyone was asking you to. I stated a fact, you have chosen to dismiss said fact - there is little else to be gained from dwelling on the matter. If you insist on ignorance, by all means, carry on.” And with that he turned away dismissively, his attention falling on a nearby display of bows he immediately strode over to, leaving you gaping in his wake.

He walked away from you? You had half a mind to follow him, and finish giving him a piece of it, but the first step set the case slung over your shoulder tapping against your thigh and you tamped down the urge. You had business to take care of, boxes to finish unpacking, and groceries to snag - you didn’t have time to waste any more breath on arguing with a know-it-all.

You plucked the shoulder rest you’d been eyeballing from its spot and stalked over to the register with it.

“Please, don’t mind him,” the clerk behind the counter begged as you set it down, his weathered gaze flickering to the stiff, ramrod spine of the man you’d been arguing with. “Mitsunari is a regular here. He means well.”

Smothering your grimace, you handed over payment. “I hope he purchases enough to make up for all the business he’s probably lost you then,” you grumble, half under your breath.

Wrapping your item in a bag, the elderly man nodded. “He teaches violin lessons to children in the back space of this shop, actually. They bring in plenty of business.”

You half choked on your breath. “That man?” You pointed across the store at his still-turned back. “Teaches children? Do their parents dislike them?”

“You might be surprised.” Chuckling as if he knew a great secret, the man merely shook his head and offered you your parcel. “Have a good day, miss. I hope we see you back again.”

Loaded down with bags, you elbowed the button in the elevator for your floor, the action still novel enough to make you smile. Back home there was no need - your house was modest and the city small, still steeped in history and sleepy in its own way. Nothing like the immense bustle and dizzying heights of Tokyo.

Shifting your load to one arm you pressed the security code to unlock your door, the numbers dredged up from memory. You’d stared at them for hours upon receiving your housing arrangements from the school last month, the four simple digits seeming to hold all of the secrets of the universe. What was this apartment going to look like? Were you ready for a roommate? What sort of person was this woman going to turn out to be?

At least, you could be grateful you knew it would be a woman. That was one advantage of attending an all-women’s university.

The door swung open with a sleek hiss, opening onto a modern entryway with space to change your shoes. You’d already seen the neat, minimalistic interior when you and your mother and Yahiko had moved boxes in that morning, but you hadn’t seen any sign of your new roommate at that time. Not even a hint of personal items or touch amongst the bare essentials of the pre-furnished decor. Just a terse note left on the counter that explained they’d be back that evening.

But you noticed there was one less pair of house slippers than there had been earlier, and from down the hallway that led to the two bedrooms there was the faint sound of music. Lilting and full of bravura, clearly Paganini. The recognition brought a smile to your face.

Maybe this would go much smoother than you’d even hoped.

“I’m home,” you called, toeing your shoes off and putting on a pair of slippers before shuffling deeper into the apartment. It was spotless, if small, and your grocery haul was more than enough to blanket the small amount of counter-space afforded your tiny kitchen.

No matter, though. You’d grown up cooking in one almost as tiny as this, before the restaurant had finally begun turning profits and your mom had been able to move the three of you into a proper home.

You had your head stuffed partway into the half-sized refrigerator, stowing some fruits and vegetables, when a voice came from just over your shoulder, startling you. “Welcome home.”  

A yelp of surprise found its way loose before you could squash it, and you jumped, cracking your head on the inside of the fridge. Tears immediately sprang to your eyes and you clapped your hands over your head, rubbing the sting away as you straightened. Coming face to…almost face with a tall woman whose features swam slightly in your blurred vision.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, sounding genuinely remorseful. There was a pleasantly husky edge to her voice, and what little of her smile you could see carried a genial air, until she seemed to finally get a good look at you and her smile fell away, drawing the rest of her features tight as it did. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” You offered her a wobbly grin as you let your hands fall back to your sides, blinking back the rest of your watering eyes. “Can’t hurt something that’s empty, my mom always teased me.”

She smiled again, but even you could tell it was merely politeness and not genuine amusement at your bad joke. “I’m Saki. You must be…well, you know your own name. And I read the paperwork too.” Bowing just the right amount, she cut off any further discussion of the topic. “It is nice to meet you.”

Alright, that was almost uncanny. She looked…disturbingly like the man you’d spent the afternoon glaring holes through at the violin shop. The same deep blue eyes, the same angular face, the same dark hair - although hers was long and caught up in a plait, and she seemed to be missing the beauty mark below one eye you’d grudgingly noted on the man.

“Is something the matter? Do I have something on my face?” Her tone was mild, but there was a subtle edge to it, and you realized you’d been staring.

“No. It’s just that - this is going to sound very odd, but - do you have a brother, by any chance? About this high?” You gestured with your hands to the top of Saki’s head, fingers fluttering uncertainly. This was ridiculous, right? “Seems to frown a lot and has very….strong opinions?”

“Ah.” Saki made a small sound of acknowledgment, her gaze drifting away almost uncomfortably. “Mitsunari. My…twin brother.”

“I’d say so. You look almost exactly alike!”

Her expression grew pained, and you realized that perhaps it hadn’t come across the way you intended - maybe you’d offended her telling her she looked rather like a man. But at the same time, telling her you thought her brother was attractive (even if he had ruined the effect by opening his mouth) didn’t seem like the wisest course of action either. As you scrambled for something else to say, the awkward silence spooled out between you.

Saki broke the tension first. “It is possible you’ll see him again. I’ve always given him free use of the apartment. Since his is much further away and his school and work are so close by, sometimes he stops here to study or eat between them. Unless that will be a problem?”

“No,” you hastily reassured her. This had been mentioned briefly in the handful of emails you had exchanged before arriving, and it seemed petty to change your mind now simply because her brother had proven himself something of an ass upon your first meeting. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

You hoped. Worst case, you could make yourself scarce when he came around.

She smiled politely, and pointed at a whiteboard on the refrigerator door that was covered in lines of neat print. “I put a rough schedule on there, for safety and so that you’ll never be surprised by his visits. If you would please fill in yours when you get your classes ironed out, that would be helpful.”

“I will.”

“And over here…” She moved past you in the small kitchen gracefully, managing to give you a wide berth in such a small space, and drew your attention to another grid tacked to the wall. “I have taken the liberty of putting together a chore chart. If you have objections to any of these, then we can discuss other arrangements.”

At the silent shaking of your head, Saki nodded with satisfaction. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I have studying to do. Good night.” Before you could scramble together a reply, or wonder what she could possibly have to study before classes had even started, she’d turned on a heel and disappeared back down the hallway, out of sight with the soft snick of a door sliding deliberately closed. Leaving you with a handful of bean sprouts and taking your half-formed hopes of a friendly first dinner with her.

Tag list: @ayatoiloveyou @cavern-of-bells @soundless737 @that-otome-potato @atroniascreamsube @ihavenotfallenyet @wonky-glass-ornament @saizoswifey @belxsar @alva-radio @shikikira @enchantress96 @frywen-babbles @eth-real @kawa-akarin @yoolee @tinydadkanetsugu @nightingaledarling @thegreenfairy25 @pseudofaux @mandakatt @meruchan @his-pretty-little-doll @jjonghugs @em-jplaysotome - If you do not wish to be on the tag list for this fic, or any others (or if you DO WISH TO BE) let me know! No hard feelings ever!

[hillywooddestiel]

Stranger Things Have Happened: Prologue

Prologue

Characters: Nancy, Barb, Y/N Winchester, Dustin, Mrs Wheeler, Steve (mentioned), Sam, Dean

Warnings: language, crack (it’s a crossover so…)

Word count: 1.7k

Series description: Hawkins, Indiana, November 1983. The Winchesters got out of hunting and decided to settle down in a small town. The youngest of the three, Y/N, just wants to get on with her somewhat normal life and go to a good college. But that’s a little tricky when disappearances start occurring, including her friend Barbara Holland, and there’s reports of a mysterious new girl in town. Can she balance boyfriends, teen drama and monster hunting?

A/N: I am soooo excited to write this series. I know I’m probably not the first to do a crossover of Supernatural and Stranger Things but I just had this idea and really really really wanted to do a series. I hope you love it as much as I do xx Masterlist

Story:

4th November 1983, Hawkins, Indiana…

“Hey Y/N!” I close my locker to find Nancy walking up to me, a huge smile on her face. I fold my arms around my books, quirking a brow.

“You’ve just been with Steve, haven’t you?” I guess, causing her to blush.

“Keep your voice down! I don’t need the whole school to know.” Nancy urges, stepping closer and keeping her voice low.

“So you have been seeing Steve! I knew it!”

“Who’s with Steve?” Barb asks, joining us as we walk down the corridor to leave. Nancy gives me a death stare,

“It’s Nancy! That why she keeps going off to study.” Barb’s mouth drops open as Nancy slaps my arm with the back of her hand.

“Nancy Wheeler!” She exclaims, causing Nancy’s face to turn an even brighter shade of red. The rest of the journey to my car is walked in silence, Barb and I struggling to hold our laughter.

As I dig around in my bag pocket for my keys, Barb continues on ahead of us.

“Hey Barb! You not coming?” Nancy queries, popping the passenger door open.

“Can’t. We have that huge essay from Ms. Fitz. I want to get a head start so I have time to study for the chem test.” She explains casually, gripping her textbooks to her chest.

“Barb c'mon! It’s the weekend. You’ll have plenty of time to study.” I counter, resting my elbow on the roof of the car.

“Sorry Y/N/N. I can’t risk failing. You guys have fun though.” Barb dismisses our offer, giving a quick wave before turning to head to the bulky, yellow buses. We both just shrug before getting in my car.

“So, Nancy…” I smirk, glancing up while finishing the second coat of baby pink on her nails.

“What?” She laughs, clearly not getting the message from me wiggling my eyebrows. With a sigh, I replace the lid of the bottle of polish and place it on her nightstand.

“You and Steve, huh?” The pink hue to Nancy’s cheeks returns.

“We’re just friends.” She brushes off my implications, taking a hold of my own hand to begin my manicure.

“You guys make out yet?”

“No! No… Ok maybe once…” I raise one eyebrow at her, “Fine twice… Okay a lot! But I know what you’ve been getting up to with Eric O'Connell behind janitor closet doors so you can stop looking at me like that.”

“Hey! Me and Eric were a one time thing. Or was that Anthony Montorzi?” Nancy laughs whole heartedly at my confusion.

“Y/N! Only you could be making out with so many guys you forget who they are.” She teases, ignoring my scowl.

“Excuse me, I didn’t forget. It’s just, still being the new girl in town, even four months later, has it’s interesting appeal to boys. Plus I get invited to a lot of parties with a lot of alcohol and that seems to help a lot.” I can’t conceal my laughter.

“Fair enough. But how do you do it? How do you… Just become popular? And get invited to parties. And have guys just fall for you.”

“Asks the future queen of high school, who is currently dating the king of high school.” I lift my nails to my pursed lips to blow them dry.

“We’re not dating! But you’re just avoiding my question.” Nance points out, leaning back on her hands. Slumping over, I let out a heavy breath.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m sure it’ll wear off soon when they realise I’m just a nerd trying to get to a good college.”

“But you just act cool all the time, with all your leather jackets and you’re just so… Well, cool!” She gestures her hand to all of me. I have to lean back and think for a minute: I genuinely don’t know how to answer that question. Sure, I try to act tough in front of everyone just like my brothers have always taught me but, that’s really not who I am. If it weren’t for Sam and Dean, I’d probably be just like Nancy. I’d be a mousy little girl living a quiet little life at the end of some cul-de-sac in the suburbs someplace out far from any excitement. Someplace like Hawkins, Indiana.

“Believe me, I’m not cool, like, at all. I just… I was taught not to care what anyone thinks growing up and to keep my walls up at all times.” I shrug, resuming blowing in my nails.

“Do you have your walls up right now?” Nancy surprises me with her question.

“No. I don’t have to around you.” I simply smile.

Someone slapping the door with their palm breaks us from what we’re doing.

“Who’s that?” I ask in a low voice, Nancy rolling her eyes.

“My brother probably. Or one of his dumb friends.” She shuffles to the edge of the bed to answer the door. With a huff, she swings it open to be met by a much shorter boy beaming at her under a mountain of curls.

“Hey Nancy!”

“Dustin, what do you want?” Nance forgoes the pleasantries.

“H-hey Y/N…” Dustin peers around Nancy to see me. I smile and give him a wave.

“Hi Dustin!” He blushes a little under his hat from my reply.

“Dustin?” Nancy asks frustratedly through clenched teeth.

“Oh… Right. Your mom asked me to tell you that dinner’s ready and if Y/N is staying to eat.” He grins, oblivious to Nancy’s annoyance. After a glance at my watch, I slide off the bed and go to the door before Nancy can answer.

“It’s okay Dustin. I have to get home now so it’ll just be you guys and Nancy for dinner tonight.” I look back as I squeeze past to see Nancy’s ‘don’t leave me with them’ look. I shoot her back an ‘I’m sorry’ look before descending the squeaky stairs.

“Oh hey Y/N! Are you not staying for dinner?” Nancy’s mom calls from the kitchen as she spots me about to leave.

“Sorry Mrs Wheeler. I’ve got to get home to my family. Sam’s making meatballs.”

“Ok. But you’re staying on Sunday right?” She points with her ladle at me, dripping sauce all over the counter.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world Mrs Wheeler!” I smile before backing out the front door.

As I push open on the stiff door, I’m greeted by a distinct burning smell. Coughing and wafting a hand in front of my face, I wipe my feet on the door mat before kicking off my shoes and dumping my bag.

“Come on, you know the rules! Put your stuff away, neatly.” Dean points to my discarded belongings from halfway up the stairs. His hair is dripping wet from his post-work shower and a towel is slung around his shoulders.

“Oh come on dude, really? You’re such a neat freak.” I scoff, kicking my shoes into the rack by the door and putting my bag by the door. Dean rolls his eyes before joining me on my way to the kitchen. “What’s that smell?” I scrunch up my nose as it gets stronger.

“That’s the smell of me calling for a pizza.”

In the kitchen, Sam stands over a charred pan, scraping at it with a spatula. The room has a smoky haze and he has a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Sam! You said you were making meatballs, not cannonballs.” I pick up one of the solid black balls from the plate to examine it.

“I’m sorry! I put too much oil in the pan, it caught fire and burned it all.” Sam explains, tossing the destroyed pan into the trash.

“Cheese or pepperoni?” Dean asks with the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, the pizza place menu in his hands.

“Uh, both!” Sam and I respond in unison.

It’s not long before the pizza delivery guy is pounding on our door and we’re sitting at the kitchen table munching on greasy cheese like any other dysfunctional family. I have to fight to get more than two slices as Dean seems to be inhaling his share before Sam and I can even finish one slice.

“Dude, slow down! You’re gonna get indigestion.” Sam slaps Dean’s hand away from the box.

“I’m hungry!” He whines with a mouth full of food.

“We’re all hungry! You’ve already had half the pepperoni and you’re on your second cheese. Leave some for the rest of us.”

“Yeah, some of us didn’t have any time for lunch.” Sam joins in, rubbing his growling stomach.

“Well maybe if you actually went for lunch instead of just reading you’d have time to eat your stupid salad.” Dean points out in a bitter tone, eyeing up the leftover crusts on my plate.

“Well maybe if you ate a vegetable every once in a while instead of just take out all the time, you wouldn’t be so out of breath going up the stairs.” Sam retorts, earning a steely glare from Dean.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Stop mocking me for eating salads.”

“Don’t be such a baby! And don’t talk shit about me being fat.”

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to go for a run now and again. You’re not getting any younger and your metabolism isn’t what it used to be.” Sam explains, getting up to get a beer from the fridge.

“I get plenty of exercise! I walk all the time at work. Look at you, you just sit around all day reading.” Dean gestures his had to Sam.

“Going on the donut run every other time doesn’t count! And I go for a run every morning.” Sam protests, getting into a full on brother-brother argument. Sighing and rolling my eyes, I take my plate to the sink and head towards my bedroom. They don’t even notice, instead continuing to take digs at eachother about running.

“Hey! Don’t you talk about Baby like that!” I hear Dean’s chair scrape along the floor, obviously from him standing up quickly, and him shout at Sam. Their arguments always get on to the subject of the car. It’s inevitable. I normally choose not to get involved, opting to do homework or study instead. Once in my room, I flick the switch on my stereo to block out the sound of their bickering and lie back on my bed. The synthesiser sound of Duran Duran eventually sends me of into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

Chapter 1

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@falloutofmymemez

Published by @hillywooddestiel 08.12.17

[newagesispage]

                                                    DECEMBER                       2018

 PAGE RIB

 ***** This Tarantino movie, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just seems to keep growing. Added to the cast are Al Pacino and Luke Perry. Damien Lewis will play Steve Mcqueen, Emile Hirsch will play Jay Sebring and Dakota Fanning will play Squeaky.

***** The Stones are gearing up for a U.S. tour in the spring ending in Chicago.

***** Peoria Players Theater is celebrating 100 years, one of only three theaters in continuous operation in the country.  Their first production was ‘The Maker of Dreams.’

***** Paul McCartney wrote a children’s book, Hey Grandude!

***** Wow!! We have now seen a Mars sunset!!

***** A CNN investigation found that Police departments around the country destroyed rape kits before the statute of limitations was up.

***** Patti Hansen has a book out: A Portrait

*****Ignore your rights and they will go away.

***** The Stan and Ollie movie looks awesome.

***** Head from the Monkees is 50 years old.

***** Goodfield, Illinois has finally repealed prohibition.

***** Deep Time from director Noah Hutton has been out a few years but is still worth a look. It is the true story of the indigenous people of North Dakota and the oil boom in the age of man.

***** Sajak and White have renewed until 2022. OY!

***** Robbie Robertson is finishing the mix on his latest album.

***** The people have spoken even though some states took a long time to get answers. Bernie Sanders and Tim Kaine have both been re- elected.** Ted Cruz won but just barely.** Mitt Romney won in the senate in Utah. The republicans kept the Senate but the Dems took the house. Journalists throw around the words, ’blue wave’ but it was all a bit too close for me.  Too much of this country still just does not get it. I will never understand how a person puts their own religious or financial needs above the rights of others. There is reason to celebrate the young people who got involved and that there was great voter turnout.  I still heard excuses though like, “I was too tired” and “they put in who they (?) want anyway.” My Mother was headed into surgery that day and still she voted. You Go Mom!!** Colorado gave us our first openly gay Governor. ** Two female Muslims and two female Native Americans have been elected to congress for the first time. Michigan will legalize recreational marijuana.

***** The Doobie Brothers are working on new music.

***** Jeff Sessions is out. Trump is attempting to keep Rod Rosenstein from overseeing the Mueller probe and put Matthew Whitaker in there.

***** #Blaze it forward

***** Scary Clown took away Jim Acosta’s press pass after a dust up at the WH. Sarah Sanders lied about the whole thing. Acosta and CNN sued. A judge says that the WH has the right to keep people out but once you let the press in, you can’t pick and choose. Acosta has his pass back.** Trump disgraced us in Paris with snarky comments about Macron and missed the ceremony at the American cemetery for the 100th anniversary of WWI because of the rain.** The administration is proposing there should not be protests in front of the WH.** The use of private e mails by Ivanka is being looked into by congress. Will she or Daddy ever be questioned for 11 hours?? Doubtful.** The Finlandians are the latest to mock our Pres. After his ridic comments about the President of Finland telling him about raking the forest (which that Pres does not recall), many are posting themselves raking or vacuuming.** A big part of Scary Clowns legacy will be overturning rules we had in place for good reason. It is likely the romaine lettuce E-coli outbreak could have been avoided if regulations had not been eased on testing water on farms.

*****Mueller has filed paperwork stating that Paul Manafort lied to the FBI and the special counsel despite signing a plea deal. This could mean that that it is unlikely he could testify since he would not seem credible.** James Comey got a subpoena on Thanksgiving.** Michael Cohen has also been accused of lies.

***** 7 NY hospitals have made settlements with rape survivors after illegally charging them $300 for rape kits.

***** It looks like 5 mil in unpaid labor will bring plenty of lawsuits from workers at the Trump hotel in Washington.

***** Major League Baseball has requested the return of a political contribution they made to Mississippi’s Cindy Hyde- Smith. Why are they giving their money to politicians anyway, especially without checking them out thoroughly?? This is a woman who had made it clear she was racist even before the comments about wanting to be in the front row for a public hanging. I suppose they give to campaigns like all other big biz, to pass the bills they want like the Save Americas pastime act that makes it legal to pay minor- league players dick. Oh and they were asked to donate by Mitch McConnell.  Wal Mart, Union Pacific, Google AT&T and Blue Cross and Blue Shield, just to name a few have asked for their money back as well. It is good to know what companies give to the right wing racist nut jobs. And She Won!!

***** The U.S. waived background checks for the staff at immigrant children holding facilities and there is still no set date for the kids to be released.

***** Hooray to the Macy’s Thanksgivings day Parade for putting on The Prom!!

***** Russia has ceased 3 Ukranian ships off Crimea.

***** After a rocky start, Murphy Brown is starting to find its mojo.

***** I hope we see more of The Cool Kids. I mean, Charlie Day, Jamie Farr, Clyde Kusatsu, Julia Duffy, Charles Shaughnessy plus the regular cast.. wow! I knew they could fill out the facility with top notch talent.

***** This year the Kennedy Center honors will go to Cher, Reba McEntire, Wayne Shorter and Phillip Glass.

***** I love the way that Seth Meyers represents the local channels with mugs on his desk. I saw WEEK 25 on there this month!!

***** Dick Van Dyke says he paid Walt Disney to play the banker in Mary Poppins.

***** Robert DeNiro and Grace Hightower are getting divorced.

***** The administration is like a shit show in a dumpster fire._ George Conway (husband of Kellyanne)

***** A man in a Baltimore audience of Fiddler on the Roof yelled out, “Heil Hitler, Heil Trump.”

***** Meg Ryan and John Mellencamp are engaged.

***** Robert Redford is selling his St. Helena residence for 7 mil.

***** Joan Baez is on her farewell tour.

***** The suicide death rate is higher than it has been inn 50 years.

***** Toy Story 4 will be out next summer with a new character, Forky voiced by Tony Hale!!!!

***** Days alert: Did Days actually age Abigail’s baby on the same episode? I mean, there was a little bundle with tiny little features, Chad walked outside to ring for help and when he came back there was a wide eyed baby sitting up and looked like a whole new baby.** So sad to see Paul go but at least he got a tearful sendoff. I kind of hope Will cheats on Sonny again. Is that wrong?? Oh wait.. it looks like Leo is gonna put a crimp in their plans. It also looks like all the secrets all over town are about to come out** I can’t wait for Jack to come back!

***** There is to be a Northern Exposure reboot.

***** Rock and Roll hall of fame noms this year are Def Leppard, Devo, Janet Jackson, John Prine, Kraftwerk, LLCool J, MC5, Radiohead, Rage against the Machine, Roxy Music, Stevie Nicks, The Cure, Todd Rundgren, Rufus and Chaka Khan and The Zombies.

***** Hate is never right and love is never wrong- Roman Kent

***** R.I.P. Francis Lai, the victims of thousand Oaks, Peggy McCay, victims of the California wild fires, William Goldman, Stan Lee , Bernardo Bertolucci, Ricky Jay, Stephen Hillenburg, Harry Leslie Smith, Hogan the Zebra, George Bolton , George H. W. Bush and Nicolas Roeg.