#our first die session was last night n one of my players is reading the comic now and livetexting it to me

[macbethz]

If I think abt this sketch from the DIE concept art too long I get physical symptoms

[juniorgman187]

Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)

Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid. 

A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is.  Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny Word Count: 6.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Prologue

Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail. 

The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them. 

These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match. 

It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one. 

The newest addition to the list is her. 

_ _ _

Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible. 

I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him. 

A trillion. At least. 

For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him. 

“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening. 

Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.

As a superior. 

I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).

The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.

Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book. 

But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach. 

Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him. 

“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it. 

And probably because she just said it to me right now. 

“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence. 

“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”

That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?

“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity. 

“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.” 

I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels. 

“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.” 

That surely kept us apart. 

Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!

Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!

Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that. 

Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work. 

If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age. 

Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.

I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.” 

Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.

“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?” 

Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me. 

“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.

No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”

Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Maybe 99.99%.

_ _ _

I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too. 

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me. 

What was going on? 

What is going on?

“What’s going on?” 

Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before. 

“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with. 

“What do you think about me dating again?” 

If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue. 

To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”

Thinking about Max that is. 

Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch. 

We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.

So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that? 

JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”

I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”

“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”

There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted. 

“I’m ready.”

Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.

_ _ _

I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.

“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”

Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought. 

I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.

“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.

“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish. 

“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.” 

Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.” 

I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine. 

I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?” 

Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …” 

In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag. 

I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one. 

Red. 

“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice. 

And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect. 

_ _ _ 

My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes. 

That story for later? This is the one. 

Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do. 

There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really. 

As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates. 

Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.

No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down. 

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”

I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word. 

“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.” 

“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.

With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”

I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”

My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered. 

Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.

“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.” 

His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise. 

The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.

Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?

In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well. 

If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand. 

If he kissed me.  

Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.

I would have never guessed it would lead me here. 

Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.

_ _ _ 

No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe. 

I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting. 

I don’t wanna seem the way I do 

Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all. 

Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.

I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way. 

It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half. 

I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress. 

Then there she was.

All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes. 

I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner. 

“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently. 

I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance. 

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go. 

Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that. 

But I’m confident when I’m with you 

“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained. 

“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.

“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.

“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it. 

“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke. 

“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable. 

“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me. 

“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again. 

“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.” 

“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said. 

“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.” 

_ _ _ 

“In what way?” 

Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer. 

That look ...

“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated. 

“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet. 

“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.” 

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.

“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.

“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him. 

“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”

“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?” 

That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock. 

“You think I’m perfect?” 

“That, or you’re pretty close to it.” 

Lately all I feel is bad and bruised

I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed. 

“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.” 

“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was. 

“How am I wrong?” 

He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same. 

“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?” 

The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?

Tired of tripping on my shoes

“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”

He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.

“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.” 

I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own. 

That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger. 

“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”

But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating

When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody

Even when we fade eventually to nothing

You will always be my favorite form of loving

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice. 

“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine. 

_ _ _ 

“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?

“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”

That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission. 

I was the first. 

He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”

“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him. 

“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t. 

Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line. 

That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.

“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.

“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face. 

“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.” 

The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!” 

I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’

“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand. 

I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day. 

_ _ _ 

We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter. 

“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.

“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility. 

From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg. 

I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.

“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.

“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things. 

In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?” 

In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.” 

“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me. 

Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite. 

“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.

Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.

“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.

“I’m here.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else. 

My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”

The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered. 

Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.

I was infinite. 

Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.

You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[sunnysviolin]

Sometimes, when sunny visits kels house for a sleepover, (or just anyones house except for basils) the host would always wake up to:

A missing sunny (who is most likely in some weird ass place like the roof)

A sunny that it staring at you from the foot of the bed or beside it

A sunny that stares from the doorway (he stares alot)

Or

A sunny that is playing bo en my time at an unreasonable hour but at a reasonable volume (or vise versa)

Alright so a different nonnie also sent me “How many times do you think sunny scares people by staring at them from the foot of the bed / beside them when they wake up?” So I’m....combining these two XD Also if you guys like....resend things can you say they’re a resend LOL bc if I have another Cho double take situation I’m going to backflip into the sun. Also don’t resend more than twice (i’m gonna be putting that in my bio bc....yeah don’t do it makes me anxious D:)

Okay mini housekeeping thing aside! This got long it’s under a read more because it’s long, but it’s full of shenanigans, sleepovers, and our local fave cryptid Sunny

I’m going to focus this in on post-canon, because I think that Sunny’s ultimate cryptid energy flows forth in his teen years. Also I really want to include the hooligans in on this (I’m...love them)

So pre-canon Sunny and Mari’s house was the go to location for their group of six. They were almost always there, but there was some unspoken rules.

You called before you came over (Only Kel didn’t follow this rule, but he always knocked and waited patiently at the door) and you had to be invited to stay for dinner. If not you went home when Sunny’s mom called a fifteen minute warning before dinner. There was also no arguing within the house. If there was an issue that needed to be addressed, Mari and Sunny’s parents would immediately send everyone home.

Post-canon Mari is gone and the house has been sold. Hero and Kel’s house becomes the go to hang out house after that. Their house is nearly night and day to Mari and Sunny’s

Mari and Sunny’s house was always neat and tidy and very quiet. Their parents generally left the TV off and didn’t use the radio, so unless one of the two children were making noise, everything would be silent. Kel and Hero’s house is in constant motion and activity. Sally is usually either babbling or screaming, music is always playing on the radio, and their main form of communication is friendly yelling at one another. Kel and Hero’s house also has an open door policy- anyone can walk in at anytime and they all know where the spare keys are hidden.

Post-canon I see a quick friendship building between Aubrey’s gang and Basil Sunny and Kel. Hero enjoys them all, but it’s not really his scene now that he’s spent a year or so at college. He will get brought along for some adventures, and he’s always up for hanging around the house with them, but when it gets to be a bigger group he prefers to just let them have fun.

When it’s just his four kids, Hero is always a part of the group though.

OKAY ALL OF THAT BUILDUP ASIDE LETS GET TO THE ACTUAL POINT OF THIS ASK

So this is when school is in session and Hero is back at college. Kel tells Aubrey that Sunny is coming up for the long weekend, and they should all do a sleepover at his house like old times. She agrees and they arrange it with Basil. Kim overhears their plans and she has FOMO so she arranges herself to be there when they tell Basil

Normally Kel makes it a point to try and include Aubrey’s friends (who are slowly just becoming friends) but this time he just pretends she isn’t there and tells Basil to come right after school and they can drive together to get Sunny.

Kim weedles it out of Aubrey later that day when they’re alone in gym class. The reason that they didn’t immediately invite her and the others? Sunny is apparently weird at night

Kim fires back that Sunny is always a little weird, but Aubrey is being fully serious. Unfortunately all that does is make Kim more curious. She goes to find Kel afterward and half asks/half demands an invitation to the sleepover. Kel seems a little awkward about her involving herself, but he agrees that she and the others can join in if they like.

Aubrey and the others arrive

Kim soon finds out that Aubrey was 100% right. Sunny is...weird at night.

At around 10:00 pm, Sunny disappears. Basila nd Aubrey went into the kitchen to make popcorn, and Kel was busy fiddling with the TV to get the movie to start. When he turns back to the couch, he asks where Sunny is. They realize Sunny has vanished.

Aubrey and Basil come in with the bowls of snacks, and Kel asks them if they’ve seen Sunny. Basil says to check the roof.

The roof. The hooligans all laugh (Basil is a sweet kid when you get to know him, but his nerves make even his jokes strange) The other three don’t laugh. In fact Kel gets up and goes to the door.

The hooligans follow out bewildered, and Sunny is o n t h e r o o f. CASUALLY. JUST THERE PETTING AN ORANGE CAT WHO IS LOUNGING PURRING NEXT TO HIM. AND KEL AND AUBREY AND BASIL DONT REACT??? Kel just waves?? and Sunny waves back???

“We’re gonna watch Insidious now, I know you haven’t seen that one before. Wanna come in?” “Kay” “Do you want to bring your cat in with you? I’ll put Hector on his leash” “Yes please”

Then the three just walk back and tell the hooligans to follow them in. Sunny got himself up so Sunny can get himself down.

It’s only the beginning of the madness. Sunny walks in holding the still purring orange cat and settles himself down in his specific corner of the couch (They were prewarned not to sit in Sunny’s spot) Aubrey cuts Kim off before she can ask about the roof, and starts the movie. Kim looks over at the cat, and it locks eyes on her, hissing.

The movie begins and Sunny will randomly speak but only to say when a character is going to die/be scared. Right before it happens. Every single time. Didn’t Kel say before that he hadn’t seen this movie?? It doesn’t matter Sunny keeps going

A ghost. A ghost. Lost in an alternate dimension by shamanic journey. It’s bizarre. The cat continues to purr a rusty old engine noise in Sunny’s lap, periodically looking at one of the hooligans and hissing, choosing a different one every time. Who’s cat is that????

They finish the movie and start to play board games. They pick monopoly and decide to divvy up into teams. Kim immediately claims Aubrey, Vance decides to go with Kel and Kel grabs Mikhael to create a trio. Charlie and Sunny silently sit beside each other, and everyone assumes that makes them a team. Angel pulls Basil to his side and they’re prepped to play the game.

Kim likes to consider herself a pretty good monopoly player, and Aubrey is a whiz with money and numbers, so she assumes they have this in the bag.

She did not account for the Sunny factor.

Sunny stares her down through the entire time. Kim is sure he doesn’t blink. She forgets to bid on auctions for properties and gives him extra rent money. They go bankrupt first, and Sunny turns his eye onto Kel who just laughs and gives Sunny finger guns. Sunny finger guns back (his face still a blank slate) and proceeds to also take all of Kel’s money.

They go to bed shortly after, and Kim is relieved. Nothing also weird can happen. Now she just has to sleep.

She wakes up in the middle of the night and adjust her position, turning over to face the other side of teh room. Four shining eyes stare back at her, catching the dim light from the kitchen. Kim shakily grabs her phone and turns on the flashlight, whirling around to see Sunny staring at her, his orange cat on top of his head.

She wakes all the rest of them with her shriek of terror. The group of four quickly settle to sleep once more, even Sunny crashing down next to Aubrey and Basil. hissing cat caught firmly in his arms.

She and the other hooligans stay up for a bit, frantically whispering about the oddness of the situation. They resolve to leave early in the morning, and to distance themselves as much as they can from...whatever Sunny is. They’re certainly glad he doesn’t go to their school anymore.

The next morning, the group of four wake up before the hooligans and cook a big breakfast. They put the phone on speaker and chat with Hero as they do so, catching up on his latest college stories. Bo en is playing from the cd player in the corner of the kitchen, kept low so as not to wake the others.

The hooligans creep downstairs and peer inside. The scene is shockingly...normal.

Sunny is still carrying his cat, but now Kel is feeding it tiny bits of bacon and it is stretching out of Sunny’s arms to reach the next delicious morsel. He’s chatting with Hero over the phone, speaking in full long sentences which is a rarity for Sunny. He even laughs quietly at a joke Hero tells.

Kim tries to translate the horror she felt last night into this morning, but it’s not there. Sunny doesn’t seem like an eldritch horror during the day. Just another teenager happy to be with people he enjoys.

Hero hangs up shortly after, and the group of four settle back into a placid silence. Aubrey breaks it by turning to the others

“I know it was weird, but I’m glad that they came for last night.” the three boys agree, and Sunny leans against the counter near Aubrey so she can scratch one hand under his cat’s neck while still flipping pancakes. When he speaks, his voice is near silent, but they all hear it anyway.

“They’re nice. They didn’t treat me different.”

The hooligans share a look and simultaneously agree to stay for breakfast.

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ waltzing with your gloves off ]

pairing: fyodor dostoevsky x f!reader

word count: 3.5k words

contains: slight royaltycore vibes, cellist instructor!fyodor, slight instructor x student dynamics, vague historical setting yet again, lots of yearning, fitzgerald is also here cause why not?

summary: your life had forever changed after you first met the famous cellist, fyodor dostoevsky, and found out he was going to be your instructor. but with him leaving the day after your eighteenth birthday, how are you going to let him know about your feelings

a/n: i want to bury my head in the sand for writing this because it’s so self-indulgent and i didn’t think my fyodor brainrot would end up like this. i... have no excuse except that i am absolutely smitten with this man

(music pegs at the end of the fic)

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

“ah, ah, ah. you were half a beat off again, my lady,” fyodor tutted as he fixed himself a cup of tea near the window. you huffed at his perceptiveness and stopped your playing abruptly.

“again?” you sighed, stretching the aching fingers of your left hand. your back ached from having to maintain your posture, your fingers throbbed from pressing on the cello strings and your head was spinning from reading sheet music. but, this was your favorite part of the day. while stretching your fingers, your eyes drifted up to watch your cello instructor as he sipped his tea contemplatively while staring out the window. he looked like a vision, especially with deep amethyst eyes, and your breath caught in your throat again.

the first time you met fyodor dostoevsky was on your birthday, three years ago, when he played the cello for you and your party guests in the middle of the dance hall. he was technically a gift from your father and a ploy by your mother to get you interested in learning and playing a musical instrument. but in that moment, you didn’t care. the sound of his playing had the hair on your arms standing on end. it wasn’t quite like your experience watching live orchestras with your parents. when fyodor played, it sounded like he was enticing you, specifically, and you didn’t even realize how far you were leaning forward. 

“y-you played beautifully,” you stammered after he finished his piece and approached you and your family. you could tell he was a foreigner by the way he dressed, the way he spoke, and of course, his name. he introduced himself as fyodor dostoevsky, a musical prodigy and famous cello player, and you didn’t even care about his slight arrogance because of how entitled he was to it. 

“thank you, my lady,” he bowed before you, holding a hand to his heart. you saw that he wore white gloves. even after knowing him for a few seconds, you felt a pang in your chest thinking that you would never meet fyodor again. that was until your father placed a hand on your shoulder and granted you the best birthday wish you could ever ask for. that fyodor was going to be your cello instructor from now on.

“can’t i play something simpler? something that i’ve learned and played by heart?” you asked as fyodor sat down on the seat right in front of you. “like...”

“the bach cello suite?” he sighed.

“...yes?” you smiled innocently.

“that’s a beginner’s piece and you are not a beginner,” fyodor shook his head. 

“but would anyone be able to tell?” 

“you’re right, maybe they won’t,” your cello instructor said, setting his cup down on the table beside him. “but, i would awfully like to see a stunned look on the audiences’ faces when they see my student play.” 

you felt yourself flush at the sound of ‘my student.’ anything that declared you as ‘his’ was enough to make you smile. “well, it’s still quite unreasonable for father to expect me to learn a new piece in just two weeks before my birthday.” 

“i have to admit, it was,” fyodor nodded. “however,” his violet eyes glanced at you from the side. “i don’t mind having our extra sessions.” 

“i’m... glad then,” you pursed your lips, trying hard to conceal your emotions, and turned back to the sheet music in front of you. you raised your hand again to the neck of your cello to press your fingers against the strings when the door opened behind you.

“miss l/n,” you recognized the voice belonging to one of your servants. “sir fitzgerald has arrived. he’s waiting for you in the gardens.” 

“he’s a whole hour early,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“he’s... requesting your presence, my lady,” your servant said.

“tell him--”

“--that he has arrived too early, which is quite rude for a guest no matter what their status is. this isn’t his house,” fyodor insisted, his voice firm and unyielding. “and if sir fitzgerald argues, tell him that practicing for her upcoming performance in two weeks is of the upmost importance. her father specifically requested for it.” 

you admired how he spoke. he was talented, yes, and treated well by your family because he was your instructor. but unlike you, fyodor wasn’t born into a family with royal blood. he was born in small village with only his mother and an older brother to raise him. if it wasn’t for his older brother who saw his talent and the help of a patron, fyodor would have never been able to enter a music conservatory and truly hone his skill. but despite that, or maybe in spite of that, he held himself in high regard and was never fearful of speaking his mind around those of a higher status.

your maidservant knew this, muttering “understood,” before leaving the room. you smiled shyly at your cello instructor.

“thank you. i thought i’d have to spend an extra hour with fitzgerald.” in your head, you fantasized about fyodor wanting to spend more time with you and chasing away your suitor by making you stay to practice more. however, that probably wasn’t the case.

“of course. you’ve been playing beautifully today and it’s a shame to waste this moment,” fyodor said. you smiled with your  lips tight, knowing you were right.

“i’ll... go through the piece again,” you said softly, lifting up your bow and turning back to your sheet music. fyodor liked to close his eyes whenever he was listening to music, just to concentrate on the sound a bit more. he did this all the time when he was playing or when he was listening to you.

but for the past few months, he had been watching you intently as you played. ‘you’ve improved very well, my lady,’ he thought.

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

a week passed and thanks to more continued instruction, you had improved greatly in playing your piece. enough to even earn a small round of applause from fyodor himself that kept you awake at night. of course, that didn’t mean you shortened your practice sessions with the cello. not only to dodge fitzgerald’s attempts at courting you, but because you knew very well that this last week before your birthday were the last few days you were going to have with your cello instructor.

even though it felt as if a part of you was going to die when you heard the news that fyodor was going to leave, you also cursed yourself for thinking that he would be your cello instructor forever. at heart, he was still a performer and you had heard enough stories from him to know that he loved to travel. why would he want to remain here, in this estate, teaching a young girl to play the cello forever? 

of course, in your fantasies, he wouldn’t be just your cello instructor. sometimes, you liked to imagine you and fyodor taking a stroll in the gardens, a smile on his face as he held your hand. or maybe even sitting near the fireplace with your head on his shoulder, watching and listening to him read poetry.

“come in,” you heard him say from inside his room. you opened the door and stepped inside to find fyodor sitting beside the window with a book in his hands. there was such a calm smile on his face when he saw you come inside.

“apologies. was i bothering you?” you asked.

“you haven’t even come in yet,” he chuckled softly. “but, you could never bother me, my lady. sit down,” he stretched his hand out to the seat in front of him. “is there something the matter? fitzgerald up to something?”

“he’s always up to something,” you sighed. “would you believe that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself for just half an hour?”

“what an uncouth man.” 

“i hope he falls off his horse or something,” you muttered.

“now, now. a lady shouldn’t wish or say such things,” fyodor tutted before casting you a sneaky glance. “how about choking on a crust of bread?”

you giggled at the sight of fyodor’s naughtier side. “wouldn’t that be a waste of bread?”

“indeed,” he laughed. “and we can’t have him falling headfirst into the teacups.” 

“i’ll make sure to save them just in time,” you smiled and twiddled your fingers around the box you brought with you. “actually, i came here for a different reason.”

“and what is that?”

“a... a gift,” you swallowed nervously before placing the box on the table and pushing it in fyodor’s direction.

“my, you’re the one who’s having a birthday and yet you’re giving me a gift?” fyodor chuckled. 

“it’s, more of a going away present,” you said softly. “open it... please.” 

you watched as fyodor slipped his gloves off before unclasping the small velvet box. you didn’t intend to buy him a gift when you were out in town to fit the dress for your party. but the brooch you came across with the deep violet amethyst in the center was hard for you to leave behind.

“how beautiful,” fyodor mused, holding the brooch up in the light with his fingers.

“it.... reminds me of your eyes,” you smiled. 

“oh? and wouldn’t it make more sense for you to keep it for yourself then?” fyodor glanced at you. 

“i-” you stammered, realizing the implications of what you just said only for fyodor to chuckle.

“i’m teasing, of course. thank you for the gift, my lady,” he smiled down at the brooch in his hands. “i’ll treasure it forever.”

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

finally, the night of your eighteenth birthday came around. as per tradition, your family threw a party in the hall of your estate and invited esteemed guests from all over the county. in your brand new dress and hair all done up, you were of course the center of attention. young men, potential suitors, all waited for their turn to dance with you. but to you, only one pair of eyes mattered. 

“fyodor,” you smiled, walking up to him in a corner of the dance hall, slightly breathless from the previous dance you had just finished. “you came.”

and he looked much different than he usually did. you had never seen fyodor dressed in anything other than a pair of simple breeches and a shirt so the sight of him now, in a handsome white suit with silver buttons that matched his gloves, was something you were quickly committing to memory. 

“you’re surprised,” he raised his eyebrows in an amused expression. “i know i may not like events like these but, i wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world, my lady.” you smiled broadly when you saw amethyst brooch you gave him pinned to his collar.

fyodor followed your gaze and touched the brooch lightly with a finger. “does it suit me?”

“it does. you wear it well,” you nodded, feeling a pang of sadness remembering that fyodor was going to leave tomorrow. but, all of a sudden, your thoughts were interrupted when he stepped over to your side and offered his hand.

“i’m afraid i have nothing to give you for your birthday--”

“fyodor, it’s alright, you’ve--”

“however, can i at least offer a dance?” he asked, smiling down at you. 

a dance? you swallowed as you stared at his hand. “can i make a request?” you asked.

“of course.”

“can you... take your gloves off?” you finally said. fyodor was protective of his hands and fingers, especially with his profession, and only removed them when he was playing or eating meals. in those three years of knowing him, you wondered how it would feel like to actually hold his hand. 

and to your surprise, he obliged, slipping the gloves off his hands and tucking them in his pocket. then, he grasped your hand in his. fyodor’s hand was cold, but not unpleasantly so, and despite how fragile they looked his fingers were quite strong wrapped around yours. he ran his thumb gently across your knuckles. 

“better?”

in this hall of guests, he was the only one who mattered to you. you smiled and nodded your head before fyodor led you to the center of the dance hall. there were whispers from your guests, some even tried to draw nearer by dancing nearby. but when the live orchestra stopped and began to play a new piece perfect for waltzing, that no longer mattered. not when fyodor pulled you close and placed a hand on your back.

“i... didn’t peg you as much of a dancer, fyodor,” you said, making conversation as you two danced.

“i may have picked up the skill from watching people,” fyodor hummed. “besides, it’s not too different from playing music. all you have to remember is keep time, and...” with a smirk he suddenly let go of your waist and stepped back. if you hadn’t spent most of your life learning different social dances, you would have missed the cue completely. instead, you twirled expertly and returned to his arms.

“...add a little variation,” he finished, returning his hand to your back. “and might i say, very impressive, my lady.”

“you’re always full of surprises, fyodor,” you smiled.

“i guess i’ll have to find even more ways to be... unexpected.”

“i wish...” you smiled sadly. “but, when you meet new people after you leave tomorrow, i’m sure you’ll find a way to surprise them.”

“ah, that’s true,” fyodor said. he ran his thumb lightly over your knuckles again. “and... i’m sure you’ll continue to flourish with playing the cello even without my guidance.”

“but it won’t be the same,” you said softly, gazing up at the man you’ve adored for so long. your chest hurt so much with knowing that you were going to wake up tomorrow and return to the practice room to find that fyodor was no longer there, making himself a cup of tea while waiting for you to arrive. that you would never see that beautiful sight of him playing the cello again.

the music slowed to a stop and so did you and fyodor. still, you wouldn’t let go of his hand. “when you leave...” you said somberly, lifting a hand to rest it against the side of his jaw. fyodor’s expression was unreadable but you continued nonetheless. “please don’t forget me. even if you just remember me as a girl you once taught the cello to, please don’t forget me.”

fyodor opened his mouth as if to say something only for you both to be interrupted by fitzgerald, of all people, appearing beside you.

“my lady, you look absolutely breathtaking today. i could barely keep my eyes off of you as you danced,” he exclaimed. “and sir... cello instructor. you move pretty well for a musician.”

“thank you,” fyodor said stiffly, his eyes still on you.

“now, i believe it’s my turn to have a dance,” fitzgerald said, smiling down at you. “it is common courtesy to dance with all your suitors, is it not?”

“of course,” you nodded, finally letting go of fyodor’s hand. that shook him out of his reverie and fyodor quickly put his gloves back on.

“if you’ll excuse me, my lady,” he bowed and stepped back. you squeezed your eyes shut for a second and let yourself be led back to the middle of the dance hall by another man. 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

fyodor was excellent at suppressing his emotions, but even he found it difficult not to look on with distaste as he watched fitzgerald pull you closer to him in the middle of the dance floor. “how uncouth,” he muttered under his breath before his eyes drifted to the sorrowful look on your face and then another thought entered fyodor’s mind.

“even if you just remember me as a girl you once taught the cello to, please don’t forget me.”

maybe three years ago, when fyodor just saw you as his student and a way for him to earn income, he would do just that. but now, how could he? how could he when you looked at him with such unparalleled adoration? how could he when you were the only one who could arise a chuckle from him with your shared smiles and secrets? how could he when he knew you were the happiest during your cello lessons with him? how could he when he lay awake at night, thinking about the way the warmth in your hands seeped into his despite his gloves on?

how could fyodor let someone else have you? how could he allow himself to only keep an amethyst brooch and a memory of the girl who gave it to him?

after the dance, you were brought to the front of the hall with a chair and your cello all ready and laid out before the crowd of guests. fyodor made sure he was at the very front of the crowd, directly in front of you. he could see the way your hands trembled as you picked up your bow and lay the neck of the cello against your shoulder. your eyes met his and fyodor smiled encouragingly with a nod of his head. you paused with your fingers on the strings before closing your eyes and playing the first note.

instantly, fyodor knew you weren’t playing the piece you had practiced for, the haydn cello concerto that he had chosen. but he recognized this piece: ‘le cygne’, the thirteenth movement from saint-saen’s famous musical suite. a piece that perfectly encapsulated the image of a dying swan. it was the piece that fyodor had performed for your birthday, many years ago.

he didn’t even know you had learned this piece. his eyes were wide open as he watched your head sway slightly with the music and the movement of your arm, nailing each crescendo. at the same time, fyodor knew playing the piece perfectly was the least of your concern, that you’ve now transcended into playing the cello as a way of giving music. 

and fyodor knew that it was all for him. that this was your goodbye.

the three minutes of your performance passed by all-too quickly and fyodor felt himself in a daze when the round of toasts began. even more so when the intentions behind this birthday party was revealed. it was your debut, a way for your family to show that you were eligible now for marriage. and fyodor had an idea of who was going to snatch you away at the first chance.

he had to do something.

he knew exactly where to find you after the party ended: sitting by the fountain in the garden. you were still in your dress but with your hair down and the same forlorn expression on your face. you didn’t even notice when fyodor sat down beside you.

“you played beautifully, my lady,” he said, laying a hand on top of yours. at that, you looked up at him.

“you noticed.”

“how could i not?”

“i think... i’ve loved you since the day i met you,” you said softly. fyodor knew you must have abandoned all hope to say this now. but hearing this from you ignited its own feelings inside him. “you must think i’m stupid.”

“i don’t,” fyodor shook his head, taking your chin with his hands. he admired how your eyes widened and your lips trembled at the sheer closeness of your faces. “how would you feel if i told you that i hate seeing you in the arms of someone else?”

“so, you... do you...” you couldn’t seem to find your words and fyodor chuckled.

“the only thing i’ve ever loved so far was the cello and music,” he mused. “and, i think i’m falling for something new.”

“so, what will we do?” you whispered. fyodor smirked.

“are you ready to throw away your life for me?”

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

fyodor marveled at how easily you two were able to stage a suicide. all it took were torn fragments of your dress, your shoes left at the banks of a lake, a few scattered rumors, and weeks on end of waiting and waiting. you were born into the high life but fyodor admired how much you were committed to leaving this world behind with him. while your family organized search parties, you were hidden in the upper floor of an inn, visited only by fyodor himself.

he left right after the funeral on a boat headed far, far away, with what appeared to be a young boy beside him. your hair was uncomfortably tucked into a cap and the breeches you wore itched terribly, but you’ve never been happier with your hand held tightly in fyodor’s.

later that night, in the privacy of your cabin, you were allowed to let your hair down and wear one of the few, simple dresses you had packed. fyodor’s gloves were off, his one hand behind your back and the other clasping your right. there were contented smiles on both of your faces as you danced a slow waltz to the music only you two could here. 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

music pegs:

le cygne (the swan) -  by camille saint-saens, the 13th movement from ‘the carnival of the animals’

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo  @ah-kaashi​ @guardianangelswings

[strahd-von-asthmavich]

The Dread Lands of Ravenloft - Mod Van Richten’s New England In-Table Campaign [Session 6]

Session Highlights

Did you know that this is technically the party’s third official combat? We’re a pretty role-play heavy group.

They’ve angered six very hungry vampire spawn last time! During the lead-up to this session, my players were so scared of TPK. But, spoiler alert, I’m not that cruel. I planned this out to a T!

Side Note: Any art that I share of NPCs within these highlight posts is my (Mod Van Richten’s) original and fan art. Any art that I use for my players that wasn’t created by myself but by other artists is kept private and within our friend circle.

Abrascus Barbarian (4) Path of the Ancestral Guardian Race: Tortle Background: Haunted One

Direthorn Rogue (4) Swashbuckler Race: Drow Background: Urchin

Flopsy Barbarian (4) Path of Wild Magic Race: Rabbit Man Background: Experiment

Mangus Monk (4) Way of the Open Hand Race: Half Elf Background: Urchin

Neracahne Wizard (4) School of Evocation Race: Eladrin Background: Noble

Nyra Rogue (4) Phantom Race: Fairy Background: Noble

CW: decapitation, sensual themes, gender dysphoria

Let’s see how the battle went under the cut!

I made a grave error when writing session 5's recap. I missed a lot of details! Good thing my players don't read these bc they would laugh at me for missing this!

Nyra made two discoveries during the day. While inside the Blue Water Inn, she notices something while Ismark is flirting with Rudy. There's a spirit hovering near the half elf. He looks like a young human boy, and he seems slightly surprised when Nyra suddenly tries to talk to him aloud. After the spirit fades, she hears a voice telepathically:

"I wonder if she can't hear me either."

At the dinner, Nyra can't help but notice the same phenomena again. Instead, she sees multiple tortured spirits around the dinner table and throughout the mansion. It appears that they're all in agony.

The session begins back on Direthorn, who was away from the other adventurers most of the day. They’ve been trying to scavenge for where they can find more pie, without realizing that Flopsy still had pie left despite not being addicted anymore. They’ve gone through garbage cans and different alleyways in vain, scaring townspeople all the while with feral noises.

They’d been so caught up in trying to find pie that they’d completely forgotten about the Baron’s dinner. The only thing that snaps them out of it is Vasili, who catches them scavenging through garbage in the noble district. He snaps them out of it by asking where their friends are. They have no idea, for they weren’t with all of them when they went to the coffin shop earlier that day. Shortly after the conversation starts, however, Adelaide rushes out of the manor and comes up to Vasili to exclaim her worries. She was worried about Escher, but she was also able to tell Vasili and Direthorn where they were. With that, they head straight to the shop.

By the time that the official combat begins, Direthorn, Vasili, and Adelaide are at the entrance. Here are some very notable highlights:

(A/N: Nyra’s player wasn’t able to play for the encounter, but she allowed me to use Nyra’s stats to run her on autopilot during the fight. Unfortunately, I had shit dice rolls)

We had two critical hits: One from Mangus and the other from Abrascus.

Vasili was able to very quickly join the fight, and he had a very powerful rapier. Its blade was pure black, and a lot of its damage was necrotic.

This is the first time that Adelaide shows off her spellcasting to her new friends, but unfortunately it’s not as effective as she’d want it to be.

Izek and four guards arrive at the scene a couple rounds into the fight to help.

Mangus got the first kill of the fight.

Flopsy dealt the most damage in the fight.

Direthorn spent most of the fight antagonizing one vampire spawn in the back corner of the shop. They have spiderclimbing ability and were able to climb up to the window right above the door. Afterwards, they proceeded to mess with this one spawn until it got bored of them (aka: Izek hit them with his hurl flame ability)

We had four critical failures:

Vasili accidentally stabbed Flopsy with his ridiculously powerful rapier.

Mangus lost his quarterstaff by throwing it across the room.

Nyra accidentally pierced Neracahne with one of her arrows.

Abrascus accidentally strikes Adelaide with his greataxe, which leads to major consequences.

After Abrascus hits Adelaide with his greataxe, she looks so angry as she tries to cast a spell on him with little success. However, Escher also saw what happened, and he then cast the same spell on Abrascus, which did success. Abrascus ended up going unconscious because of seeing horrific images.

After the fight was over, Henrik was under arrest. Henrik was terrified and constantly tried to say that he was innocent and was framed. Izek did let the party briefly talk to him, but that ended up being inconclusive. Henrik said he couldn’t say the name of the person that made him do it. Aloud, Flopsy simply said, “It was daddy,” which made everyone very uncomfortable. Again. Henrik was crying out that he was innocent as he was being dragged out of the shop. Vasili left shortly after.

Because the investigation was a success, the adventurers are all considered “guests of honor” during the Festival of the Blazing Sun. What this means for them is that food expenses are all paid for during the festival, and they’re allowed to spend the festival with the baron at his table whenever they wish to.

Ismark arrived with Rudy during the aftermath. One of the vampire spawn was burnt to a crisp by Izek, and Rudy proceeded to decapitate the body. After this, Rudy looked at everyone in confusion, claiming that they needed to decapitate the corpses and then burn the bodies in order for them to die. Flopsy looked confused and told him about how he killed Doru. Even though Doru’s head was bashed in, Rudy tells Flopsy that because he wasn’t decapitated, then he’s technically still active and can eventually regenerate from that.

Rudy is dumbfounded by the party’s lack of knowledge, until he realizes that they’re not really from here. He explains to them that because Barovia is run by a vampire, then vampires that live here are stronger than vampires that would typically be found in the Material Plane. So, it takes more effort to kill them. However, after seeing that Flopsy has Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires, he seems really disappointed that he doesn’t know more about vampires. That is, until he’s given the book and sees that many pages on how to kill vampires are missing. Flopsy tells him that he’d gotten the book like this from Vasili.

When Abrascus wakes up, he’s suffering from an effect of longterm madness, experiencing tremors and feeling shaken up. Rudy quickly takes care of it before it gets too out of hand, and he and Ismark work together to heal the adventurers. When Rudy does this, he holds onto his pan flute while Ismark plays his balalaika to cast his healing spells.

More Content Warnings: Misgendering, trans pregnancy mentioned

Before resting…

Abrascus ended up staying behind at the coffin shop to sleep in one of the coffins. Rudy took exception to this, and he told Flopsy to place a holy symbol on top of the coffin. Just in case. Ismark stays the night with Rudy when they all part ways.

When the rest of the adventurers return to the manor, Flopsy goes inside and can hear Adelaide crying while Escher is tending to the wound caused by Abrascus’ greataxe. She’s devastated that someone she thought was her friend would hurt her like that. Escher tries to assure that things like that happen sometimes, but he will do anything to defend her. Adelaide then asks him, “Is Father going to do something to him?” His answer to her is to not worry about that, for that’s his business.

Flopsy soon makes his presence known, or rather, Escher begins to notice him. He stops talking with Adelaide, and she decides to go see what the girls are up to at the guest house. This leaves Flopsy to continue the conversation he had with Escher earlier that day.

Flopsy insists that Escher needs to tell him who his host was so that he could become a vampire too. Escher refuses to give the name, for it’s too dangerous, but Flopsy can conclude that Strahd is Escher’s host. To challenge that, Flopsy asks, “What if I ask her other dad?” That makes Escher go from deflective to immediate defensive, now that he knows how much Flopsy heard. It’s then that he tells Flopsy that Adelaide having two fathers was supposed to be kept a secret. Escher is transgender, and he left his old life to escape a forced marriage. How that led to him being in Barovia and being one of Strahd’s consorts is unknown.

Escher makes a promise to Flopsy. If he were to tell anyone that Escher was a vampire and that Adelaide is a dhampir, he would know that it was Flopsy that did it. Essentially, he was going to kill him if he told.

Direthorn, Nyra, and Neracahne all go back to the guest house when everything was cleaned up. Some time later is when Adelaide comes over to see them for comfort. They all decide to have a girls’ night where they drink wine and get to know each other. Adelaide quickly starts getting tipsy, and Neracahne and Direthorn immediately pounce on that as a way to get information out of her. They ask her about her papa, and she tells them that he had raised her mostly on his own and that she’s her favorite person. They then ask about her mom. She seems confused, and after some explaining, she tells them, “I don’t have a mom.” They ask if she’s adopted, but that also needs to be explained to her. She says no, and then she explains how Escher came out to her when she was a child.

Even though Escher had said that her body is similar to hers, that doesn’t change the fact that he is a man. Even if he gave birth to her, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s her father. She’s very adamant about that, but she’s relieved that Neracahne and Direthorn respect that. The conversation gets a little more personal when they start asking about who her other dad is. They’d noticed that when she laughed, Adelaide had fangs. She gets scared when trying to explain herself, and it eventually comes out that her other father is Strahd.

When Escher came to Barovia, he was with his party of adventurers in Vallaki. The way that Adelaide described their union was that it was… not exactly a conventional one. But in the end, they’d “married,” but before Escher could be turned, they found out that he was pregnant with Adelaide. They had to wait until after she was born, or else risk her dying in the process. Escher had almost died when she was born, but Adelaide perceives that her papa turning into a vampire saved him. She also tells them that although Strahd hasn’t really been in her life during her childhood, she knows that he cares about her.

She begs them not to tell and makes them promise. Even though they promised her that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, Adelaide knows that people will kill her if they find out. They will also kill Escher, and even though it seems like she knows a lot of people hate Strahd, she doesn’t want him to get killed, either. She soon relaxes once she’s reassured, and they’re all able to open up about their personal lives and experiences.

Direthorn talks about being orphaned and running away from the orphanage at thirteen. They’d been alone for the longest time, after they’d lost their best friend. That makes Adelaide feel a little sad as she expresses her sympathy. Neracahne then talks about how she ran away from an arranged marriage. As she’s explaining her story, Adelaide perks up. She exclaims, “That sounds a lot like my papa!”

She then tells Escher’s story to them, or at least, what she knows of it. Escher was a student at a wizarding school before he came out, and he excelled in his studies. Something happened, however, that made him earn his teachers’ ire. He had crafted his very own spell, which was the spell demonstrated at the coffin shop against Abrascus. In response, the teachers lambasted him and told him to stick to his studies. Escher was angered by this and felt like he was being held back.

That story felt so familiar to Neracahne. She’s heard something similar to this in the past.

Adelaide continues the story. After Escher dropped out of school and took up apprenticeship with a necromancer, he started his transition. It was shortly after this that Escher was forced into a marriage. She didn’t quite remember the name of his husband. “...Reginald?” It was their wedding night that Escher used his spell against someone for the very first time. After his husband was knocked unconscious, Escher escaped and became an adventurer.

Now this was too familiar to Neracahne. It’s then that she remembers a story that she overheard when walking through town one day. That person’s name wasn’t Reginald. It was Roland, who was a middle-aged elf that was a well-respected noble. He’d just stepped out of a chapel holding his head. Different people asked what happened to him, and he started talking about his wedding that was roughly a week earlier. He took a young wife and thought that the union was a success. But then, “that crazy bitch stabbed me in the shoulder,” and she then had cast a spell on him that made him go crazy. She then disappeared without a trace.

It’s then that recognition spread across Neracahne’s face. She realizes in that moment that her old friend is Escher.

After the revelation, the night between the girls continues as normal until they all fall asleep together.

There’s one unfortunate problem that night. Mangus was left alone to wander. He didn’t know where to meet everyone, so he ended up in the dark manor while everyone else was at the guest house. Not a single light was on inside the manor, except for in the closed off study. He checks the door and sees that it’s locked, annoyed that he didn’t have any thieves’ tools on him to try and break in. He doesn’t dwell on that thought for long. When he realizes that whoever’s in there is coming out, he hurries to hide so that he’s not noticed.

From his hiding spot, he can hear Vasili walking out of the study, lightly beating something against his hand. He didn’t see what it was, but it was something with a bit of weight to it. Mangus then hears Vasili go back into the room and douse the fire before leaving it with the door locked shut behind him. In the pitch black manor, Mangus hears Vasili walk up the stairs. Mangus tries to go back towards the study to check the door, but in the process, he hears Vasili call, “I know you’re down there.”

Vasili then walks down the stairs in the pitch black manor, appearing to navigate fine despite being a human. Mangus is a little perplexed and tells him that he was trying to find the others, to which Vasili laughs and tells him that he’s in the completely wrong build. But Vasili does offer to take him back to the guest house.

On the way there, Vasili engages in small talk with Mangus in the dark. He asks about Adelaide, but Mangus can’t seem to get his words out. During his fumbling, Vasili asks Mangus to look at him. It’s here that suddenly Mangus finds himself to be charmed. He sees Vasili as a trusted friend to be protected. He can tell him anything, so he does. He’s able to get his words out that he’s interested in Adelaide in a romantic sense, but he’s still trying to process his feelings. It’s what Vasili says that causes the air around them to still.

“You better be careful with that. You do not want to get on Escher’s bad side. Or mine.”

It’s then that Mangus let’s Vasili bite him, revealing himself to be a vampire. After a considerable amount of damage, he says this to Mangus:

“You will not speak of what happened here, you will not tell anyone I spoke with you, and, if I can help it, you will not remember what happened here.”

Flopsy soon comes to the door to the guest house after they’re done, and Vasili briefly engages in pleasantries before going back to the manor. Flopsy drags Mangus into bed to sleep, and from the other room it sounds a little bit awkward. But the session ends there, as the adventurers take their rest.

[katecarteir]

M A N I A [part one, prologue.] 

pairings: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier, stanley uris/patricia blum, mike hanlon/bill denbrough.  word count: 3,142  summary: PENWISE ACADEMY is a safe haven for all those who are different. Supers have been the dominating force in the world for the last three centuries, and Penwise is their training grounds for North America. They’re not heroes yet. They’re just idiots with super powers. 

read on ao3

Eddie Kaspbrak watched the Maine scenery moving past him in a daze, his fingertips still tingling. He squeezes his eyes shut as another wave of nausea came waving over him. The last twelve hours still had a sick shakiness to him. The last few weeks had been the most freeing of Eddie’s life thus far, finally having his nights and what best of a life he supposed he could have had. For as long as Eddie could remember, his mother had kept him boarded up in their small Derry townhouse. Eddie had gone to school once, he believed, when he was young and his father had still be alive. After Frank Kaspbrak had died, Eddie had been taken out of society for all intents and purposes. For twelve years, the only person Eddie had spoken to was his own mother.

Eddie was sick, you see. His mother had always told him so, his whole life. He had some sort of terrible lung disease that meant if he ever got so much as a cold, he could die. Eddie had never questioned her, terrified of how easily he could just die according to her words, until about two weeks earlier. A terrible sense of longing and curiousity had come over him that simple night, and for the first time in his life- Eddie had snuck out his bedroom window and into the night.

That had been the night he met Martin. Just the thought of that made Eddie’s stomach clenched up twice fold. He could see Martin so perfectly, light up with the lights from the street lights and the moon, always smiling. Laughing. Martin, falling to the dirty ground, convulsing, spitting up blood.

“I wish we could have found you sooner, Edward.” The driver broke through Eddie’s thoughts as they came pulling up in front of a huge white house. It had gorgeous, old fashioned windows and Eddie thought that maybe it was the most beautiful house he’d ever seen. They certainly weren’t in Derry anymore. “I really believe that this is the best place for you. We’ll be able to help you here.”

Eddie said nothing, but stepped out of the car. The house seemed even larger as he got closer, looming up above him. It was easily five stories tall, and spreading out over a quarter of a street block. Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat, and he fumbled for the inhaler in the pocket of his fanny pack.

“You don’t need that.” A weird, distant voice came to him and Eddie jumped. He turned to face a boy with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes, sitting on a porch swing with a large book open in his lap. He stared at Eddie without blinking and an uncomfortable feeling settled itself in Eddie’s gut. He fumbled with his inhaler and it fell to porch, bouncing down the steps and rolling under the porch.

Eddie swallowed roughly, and looked up at the porch boy. He was still staring at Eddie, expression completely blank.

“Don’t mind Bill.” A nicer female voice came from behind Eddie. He turned again, looking at a dark skinned girl wearing what looked like modern battle armour, who was smiling a little disconnectedly at him.  “He’s a little weird. Doesn’t know how to mind his own business.”

Bill looked over at the girl, his expression still mostly blank though Eddie thought he could see a little bit of annoyance there. He closed his book and stood, walking into the house without a word to Eddie or the girl.

“Bill’s a clairvoyant.” She told him, placing her hand on what looked like a dagger of some sort that was fastened to her belt loop. “He doesn't really mean to pry. He just can’t help it.”

Eddie just nodded, not feeling quite ready to start asking a bunch of questions. He didn’t even know what a clairvoyant was, or how it had anything to do with Eddie’s inhaler.

“My name’s Kay.” Kay said, gesturing towards the front door of the large building. “I think you’re going to fit in well around here, Edward Kaspbrak. Penwise is the best super academy in the country, you’re in good hands.”

Eddie swallowed roughly, adjusting the ugly yellow gloves his mother had forced onto his hands when he’d gotten home, sobbing. Had it really only been that morning he’d been at home, with his mother, praying for comfort and finding the opposite? It felt like a lifetime ago. “I don’t know what a super academy is. I don’t really know why I’m here. One minute I was meeting my boyfriend and the next-” Eddie let out a rough shake of breath and Kay was giving him a sympathetic look.

“I know it’s hard,” Kay said with a short nod. “Especially when this life is thrusted on you. Half of our mission here at Penwise is to make our students as comfortable as possible at all times. Train them to control what they can do, and train them to survive.”

“Survive?” Eddie asked, voice cracking, heart racing.

A dark look came over Kay’s face. “Just like in any society, there’s a good and a bad in ours. It’s just a little more dangerous with people like us. All our people need to know how to defend themselves, and protect those who cannot protect themselves. It’s our birth right.”

Eddie gaped. Twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t even known that super powers actually existed outside of those Saturday morning cartoons his mother hated him watching, but now he found that not only did superheroes really protect the world- but that he was supposed to be one of them.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.” Kay chuckled, ushering Eddie into the house. It was even more grand from inside, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever felt so small and unimportant. “Mike will explain everything to you. He’s much better at this stuff than I am, but he’s in combat training with one of our higher levels so that conversation will have to wait.”

Eddie nodded, turning to attention as a curly haired, properly dressed boy came into the front foyer with a steaming cup in his hands. Eddie suddenly felt surrounded by the smell of the apple pie his Ma would make on Thanksgiving, and for the first time, Eddie felt a pang of homesickness.

“Oh!” Kay seemed surprised and the boy with the tea looked completely stuck. “Stan, this is Eddie, our new student. Eddie, this is Stanley Uris. His father is our supreme, he’s usually around here somewhere but he has to supervise all of the school in the country as well as our societies so sometimes it can be a few weeks between his visits.”

“Hi.” Stan said, sounding glum. He looked at Eddie shortly and frowned. “And before you ask what my powers are, I don’t have any.”

“Oh.” Eddie nodded. “Okay.’

Stan’s eyebrows disappeared under his spirally hair. “You don’t think that’s weird?”   

“Should I?”

Stan shook his head, a slow smile sliding across his lips. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Eddie.”

“Okay, perfect.” Kay clapped her hands. “You can show Eddie to his room then. I have to get ready for my next training sessions and I’d rather have more time than this as it is. He’s in room 257.”

Stan’s lips twitched slightly, a mischievous look coming over his face. “He’s rooming with Richie?” Eddie’s stomach dropped at the obvious amusement on his boy’s face. “Alright, come on you poor bastard.”

Eddie shot a panicked look at Kay, who wasn’t even looking at him, and followed Stan up the stairs onto the second floor.

“Richie Tozier has been longer than anybody except Mike, and he’s the longest enrolled student.” Stan told Eddie as they walked down the hallway. “He should have been cycled out into a troop or society by now, but he’s a stubborn bastard who refuses to work as a team player. He's been doing the same training over and over until he gets his shit together.”

“How old is he?” Eddie asked nervously, scratching apprehensively at his arm. It wasn’t as satisfying with the gloves on. “If he should have already been… cycling out.”

Stan shrugged one shoulder. “Richie’s 21, but it’s not really an age thing here. It’s not like normie school, with grades and a regular start age. You start when you come here, and you get cycled out whenever you’re ready. It’s usually less than five years, sometimes if a child is young when they’re brought to us, we keep them around longer. Nobody’s ever been here as long as Richie Tozier, without turning into a trainer after being cycled out.”

Eddie nodded once, not entirely sure he actually understood, and pulled on a loose string on his gloves. “This Richie guy sounds kind of horrible.”

Stan replied in a rather bored, unchanged voice, as though he was still discussing the inner workings of this super academy; “He’s the person I’ve ever met.”

Eddie blinked, but they reached the door at the end of the hallway, and Stanley let him both in without knocking. Sitting at the desk was a girl with long brown curls, wearing a flowery yellow dress and knee high black boots.

“Hey, Rich.” Stan greeted the girl, rolling his eyes slightly.

The girl, Richie apparently, stood up and it seemed like she morphed in front of Eddie’s eyes. No longer was there a small, dark haired girl standing in front of him- it was now a very tall, scrawny dark haired guy in the same dress and boots. He shot Eddie such a dirty smirk that Eddie felt his face burn bright red and turned back to Stan, silently begging for an explanation.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Richie has the power of mutation. He can make himself look like anything he wants, whenever he wants. It’s rather annoying, really.”

Almost as though to prove Stanley’s statement, Richie morphed suddenly into a large yellow canary and fluttered over to land on Stan’s shoulder. A small little bashful smile crossed Stan’s face as he scratched at Richie’s little bird head. “Boy of many faces. Do you maybe mind sticking with the one you were born with for the comfort of your new room mate?”

Richie flew from Stanley’s shoulder and morphed in mid-air, dropping down onto the bed and pressing his arms behind his head. He was the boy again, with a head full of messy black curls and a goofy, childish grin. And he was naked, dress and boots left behind from his bird transformation moments earlier.

Stan, at least, seemed to have some sense and tossed a large black sweater that seemed to be advertising that Goonie movies from the early 80s. Richie shrugged it on and settled on his messy bed.

“Aren’t you going to… put pants on?” Eddie asked timidly.

Richie raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I wear pants when I could just not wear pants?”

Eddie supposed he didn’t have an answer for that, and forced himself to look away from Richie’s legs. They were shaved, all the time apparently, and Eddie found it harder to look away than it should be. If the slight smirk on Richie’s lips meant anything, he could tell.

“What are you in for here, Eds?” Richie asked, and Eddie found his nerves almost instantly soothed by the sound. Despite the situation, and undeniable weirdness about his room mate, Eddie found himself comfortable with him already. Eddie hadn;t known many people in his life,  and he thought that should make him suspicious of strangers, but he’s found that not to be the case. Eddie was ready to throw himself to the potential love and acceptable of every person he passed in life.

Perhaps a weakness, but Eddie chose to see it as a strength. He could see that all of his belongings had made themselves already into the room somehow, so Eddie moved carefully to sit down on the bed crossed legged.

“Okay,” Stan said, glancing around at the space between their two beds. You could see where Richie’s well-worn room turned into Eddie’s brand new one, practically a line in the ground. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Stan turned to point at Richie. “Richie. Be nice.”

Richie pressed a hand to his chest, making a mockery of an insulted noise. “I’m always nice, Staniel. Thank you very much.”

Stan shot Eddie a small, very forced smile then ducked out of the room. Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes on him, and shivered. “Well.” Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Aren’t you going to ask me? About why I’m here?”

“Nah, dude.” Richie shrugged, grabbing a rather thick looking book from underneath his pillow and opening it, leaning back against his bed with a bored expression. “That’s your business. You can tell me if you want-”

“I killed my boyfriend.” Eddie broke through Richie’s nice dismissal. Richie’s mouth froze mid-word,  eyebrows bouncing up underneath his messy curls. Eddie felt his entire body rush hot. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident, I didn’t know-”

“Relax, kid.” Richie said, lowering his book and giving Eddie an amused expression. “If anybody thought you were dangerous, or evil, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be up at Juniper.”

“What…” Eddie cleared his throat. “What’s Juniper?”

Richie smirked. “All in good time, Eds. All in good time.”

⤿ Beverly Marsh hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, still resting angrily against the ground. Mike Hanlon kicked against her ankle, prompting another groan.

“You’re strong, Marsh.” Mike said, Beverly still refusing to open her eyes. She let herself remain against the cold floor, listening to the ages old lecture that Mike gave her during every sparring session they had together. “You’re stronger than maybe anybody who has ever been to this school.”

Beverly peaked up at him with one eye half open, wondering if she was truly about to be praised by the legendary Michael Hanlon. He held a hand out to her, and she grabbed it, allowing her to be pulled up to her feet. She stumbled slightly once she hit the ground, already healing quickly, but sore nonetheless. Mike was the only trainer who could ever leave her sore.

“Strength isn’t everything.” Mike said slowly, seriously. “If you’re going to win a fight, you need to fight with your mind as much as your physical strength. You might be able to win against some nobodies, or people untrained, just by throwing punches and kicks until you knock them out. But we have bigger enemies out there, Marsh. They won’t be taken down by pure brute force.”

“So you keep saying,” Beverly said dimly, narrowing her eyes at Mike and crossed her aching arms. “But you and Sir Uris Donald and Kay just keep talking about this big threat but you’ve never given any sort of evidence of it! We haven’t been at war for years! Decades! Not in our lifetime!”

“You’re wrong.” Mike shook his head slowly. “Our kind will always be fighting for our rights and our freedom- from those who would choose to ignore us, and from those who wish to see us extinct.”

“That will never happen.” Beverly said fiercely, shaking her head. “There’s too many of us, and we’re too fucking powerful. There’s no way a Civie government will be able to take us out! I’d like to see them try!”

“That might be so.” Mike said dryly. “But it’s not just Civies that would like to see our society in ruins.”

Beverly swallowed roughly, furrowing her brow. She shook her head and pursed her lips. “You can’t expect us to prepare for some bullshit war that you won’t explain and have no evidence of, Hanlon. It’s not fair. I know you’ve been cycling students out to troops ten times more often than to societies, that’s not how it’s supposed to go!”

“Do not raise your voice to me, Marsh.” Mike said harshly, but the pain in his eyes made Beverly’s stomach dropped. “You and Tozier should know better than anybody here why we’re constantly in preparation for war, I don’t know why you both continue to fight us in your training. We are only trying to help you and defend our people. War is coming, sooner than we’d like. Upperclassmen or not, you’re not entitled to any information until you completely finish your training. If you want information, if you want to know what is going on, let me train you.”  

Beverly nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, let’s go. Bring it on.” Beverly raised her arms, wincing at the ach in her limbs.

Mike let out a small laugh. “No. You’re done for today. Hot shower and sleep. We’ll meet again tomorrow morning, for laps.”

Beverly groaned, accepting the towel that Mike tossed at her while laughing.

⤿ Subject Nineteen dropped down to her knees, bowing her head. The room was silent around her, not even a single whisper coming through the crowds of people that were gathered. The Higher Power walked around her in a suit, polished to perfection, with the bright spurts of light coming out of his finger tips every time he completed the circle.

“Our time is coming!” The Higher Power shouted through the room. “No longer will we bend to the demands of Donald Uris and his spineless heroes!” The crowd all screamed, applauding the declaration. “No longer will we act as lesser than the civilizations that cannot stand before us!” More screaming, more applauding. “We stand now, our own free people, to take the world that we deserve! We will not be silenced anymore!”

The screaming was almost deafening and Subject Nineteen wrinkled her nose at the noise.

“Daughter. Stand.” The Higher Power said, lifting his hand as sparks shot out towards her. Subject Nineteen rose immediately, standing with the straightest posture and looking over the Higher Power’s shoulder, knowing to never meet his eye. “You have out shone every other child of mine, gone above and beyond what I could have ever dreamed. And now, daughter, you go forth and you do the unthinkable- you make our path to freedom. Our future society rests on you.”

The Higher Power handed forward pieces of paper, and a bag of what appeared to be clothes. Subject Nineteen accepted them, nodding curtly. The Higher Power turned back to the crowd and spread his arms wide. “My daughter will join the Uris Society and rumble it from the inside, so that we may come in and ruin it beyond repair. Our saviour.”

As the crowds screamed for her, bowing towards her, Subject Nineteen looked down at the papers in her hand.

MAINE CERTIFICATE OF BIRTH. Blum, Patricia Marriott.

[werenzki]

William Nylander #3.5

-read the rest of the parts for this imagine here-

A/N: I’m glad you guys are still enjoying what’s turned into a mini-fic basically lol, I definitely haven’t lost any inspiration for this little story and I just hope you keep on loving it as much as I do :)

Word Count: 4,792

Saturday night hockey, aka the best hockey there really was. Mostly due to the fact you could almost always make the home games and not have to worry about classes or any kind of work. You got to take out your gold triple A pass - the most important pass anyone in the arena had their hands on - while wear your Leafs gear and enjoying a beer to cheer on your team. This Saturday was just a bit more special, it was the first home game you’d be watching as.. well whatever you and Willy were.

“I’m not making a mistake am I?” You asked out loud while Sammy drove your car back from lunch.

“With what exactly?” Sammy questioned, keeping her eyes on the road.

“With William,” you said.

“I don’t think so,” Sammy paused and smiled, “I do think that you’ve been the happiest I’ve seen you this past month, and you deserve it,”

You smiled at her words. Sometimes you’d notice how much your cheeks hurt from all the smiling, or how much you’d just simply be thinking about Willy. But it was nice to hear someone close to you noticing as well.

“I think my dad’s getting a little suspicious,” you exclaimed.

When explaining New Years Eve, you just said you drunkly stole Willy’s jacket and that was it. There was no kissing or touching or anything of the sort. Your father had stared at you for a long while before nodding and then apologized for his behaviour. Which of course you had to follow up with an apology too.

Since then you and Willy had hung out one-on-one a handful of times as well as texted pretty constantly. Nothing more than the touching and kissing had happened, besides that one heated make out session the other day. But your feelings had only grown as this secretive thing between you two has going on.

“He’s not going to be the happiest of campers, obviously, but if he really loves and cares for you then I think he’ll understand, Y/N,” Sammy said. 

You nodded and leaned back in your seat, looking down to check if Willy had texted you back yet. He hadn’t, but you knew that he’d probably be at the arena finishing up some pre game stuff.

Babcock and your father had a last minute skate this morning, knowing that this game against the Senators was going to be a tough one. With it nearly being February, and the fact the teams next 6 games were on the road, they had to make every advantage count. You knew that these points were going to be do or die soon and now more than ever you wanted to see this team succeed. Maybe the feelings that you had for Willy had something to do with that.

“I really like William,” you all but wined out as you kept staring down at your phone screen.

Sammy chuckled, “I think he really likes you too,” she said.

“Well I hope so,” you paused and sat up straight up once realizing you were almost home, “not to be dramatic, but I’m sort of risking a lot for this guy,”

“You’re right, that was dramatic,” Sammy teased you. You two laughed and then soon enough you were back at your house getting ready for the game.

After changing into your large Leafs jersey - custom with your dad’s old number and your last name across the back as well - paired with some leggings and sneakers, you fixed up your hair and makeup then were ready to go. Like always, you and Sammy would grab your dinner at the arena then double fist some beers and get comfy in the suite seats.

But unlike usual, you told Sammy to hold your things and wait for you by the elevator. With your pass around you neck, you smiled at the guards and walked down the hallway to the home dressing room.

The boys noticed you one by one, Kappy smacked Willy’s arm and then pointed to where you stood. You waved and smiled, and he waved back, which caused Babcock to turn around just as his speech had ended and furrow his brows before his eyes landed on you. He smiled and motioned for you to come in.

“Y/N,” he paused and held out a piece of paper, “would you like to read out the starting line up to your team?” He asked. The words ‘your team’ made you feel a little dizzy, it was your fathers team not yours. But you nodded and walked up to grab it.

“You guys got this win, I know it,” you addressed the whole room, which was responded with some hollering, “okay,” you paused and looked down at the paper, “in net, Fredrick Anderson. Defensive we’ve got the return of Mr Martin Marincin along with Nikita Zaitsev. Then first line of Leo, Kadri and Nylander,” you finished with a big smile and clapped your hands as the whole team cheered.

The boys hyped themselves up some more before they began to file out of the room and into the hall, fist bumps and smacks on the butt all happened while you tried to squish your way back out. You said good luck to Babcock before he walked off and then stopped at Auston before Willy. He met your eyes and you so desperately wanted to lean in and kiss his lips right then and there. But you didn’t.

“Good luck,” you said with a smile. Willy mirrored your smile and as quickly as you could, you leaned in to kiss his cheek - you couldn’t help yourself.

Thankfully, no one even noticed and you ran off before anything could be said. Once you were back with Sammy, you chugged half your beer and went up to your family suite where you’d be sitting with your parents and other important Leafs people. Unfortunately you couldn’t get Annika or Sydney a seat, because of all the stupid men in business suits, but you and Sammy sat up front and walked the boys skate around before the national anthem was sung.

“Let’s go boys!” You cheered as the puck dropped and Naz passed it right over to Willy.

You were texting both Annika and Sydney trying to figure out where they and Steph were sitting in the lower bowl. After reading out their seats, Sammy tried helping you before you finally noticed them. You waved and waved but they never saw you. So you took out your phone and took a snapchat video while zooming in on the three of them.

All of a sudden the goal horn went off and the whole arena cheered. You started to scream and unzoomed the camera to catch the jumbo screen to catch who scored. Of course it was Willy in the middle of his line mates. You continued to cheer and flipped the camera back on yourself, filming you and Sammy before breaking out into a grin just as the ten second video ended. Entirely by luck you might’ve just filmed your favourite video ever. You threw on a filter, saved it and then added it to your story.

“Are you seeing Willy after the game?” Sammy asked quietly as the game went on after his goal.

“I’m not sure,” you shrugged but honestly were still smiling like an idiot.

“Give him a up close and personal congrats on his goal,” Sammy teased and winked at you.

“Oh my god, Sammy,” you groaned while she laughed.

“I’m just saying, the guys doing pretty good out there,”

“So is Freddie,” you noted while pointing to where he was currently blocking off shots.

“What about Freddie?” Your father asked while taking the seat beside you. You froze up and had to clear your throat before pointing out at the ice once more.

“He’s doing really well,”

“Yup, that kid is definitely the backbone of this team,” you father nodded while watching the big screen.

“What about that Nylander guy, hey?” One of the business men - whom were all sucking up to your father constantly - asked him.

“He’s going to be just as great for this team, one of our best,” your father nodded before his gaze fell on you. You swallowed and then nodded too.

“I agree,” you said shortly. After that you chugged the rest of your beer and kept quiet till the third period started up.

While texting Annika, you missed another Leafs goal. You cheered along and watched the replay of Auston continuing the amazing point streak he was on. Your father was up on his feet and clapping loudly for the kid, who was by far his favourite, before taking his seat beside you once more.

“We really lucked out, don’t you think?” He asked you.

You nodded and then once you knew he was invested in the game again you looked down at your phone to read Annika’s messages. She was talking about how you two had to hang out soon. After New Years she had gotten busy and was unable to hang out as much as Sydney and Steph did. Puppy dates and wine nights were the thing with you three and Sammy. While you had only gotten to go for lunch once with Annika. These Leafs ladies were quickly becoming some of the best friends you’ve ever had.

We’re having a board game night at the boys apartment before they leave for their big road trip

You should come

Willy said he was going to mention it

You read over her messages again. Hanging out with everyone as of you weren’t the owners daughter felt a little scary. Add whatever you and Willy was with a group of his friends, you got nervous. But also you so desperately wanted to go. Keeping up the 'fuck it’ attitude you had towards all this, you replied to her.

I’m down, when?

She replied almost instantly.

I’ll let Willy tell ya ;)

You blushed and then shut the screen of your phone. And there was that silly feeling in your stomach again. Even at the thought of William texting you and inviting you to hangout with his friends - which you could call your own now too - made you feel so happy inside.

“I’m having Babcock and Lou over for dinner the Friday after the road games, I’d like you to be there,” your father spoke up from beside you.

You looked over at him and met his eyes, they still carried that unsaid rule. The one you had so broken over this past month. Don’t befriend the team, and here you were sort of dating one of the players of his team. You nodded your head and your father gave one quick nod back, then thinking to yourself how no one was going to stand in your way of happiness - that was being with William.

After another beer you were feeling pretty buzzed, which also meant you were feeling risky. So as the guys all jumped over the bench and the horn went off with another win under their belt, you quickly stood up and grabbed Sammy’s hand. Wiggling past a few of the business men, including Lou, you were nearly out the door before your father got to you.

“What a game, hey girls?” You father grinned and pulled you in for a hug.

“Good to have another win,” you stated with a smile. Your father nodded and kept that grin on his face.

“I’ll see you Monday morning, for the teams last practice before their big road trip?” Your father asked.

“I’m not sure,” you shrugged. Truthfully you could more than likely make it for the practice seeing as you only had afternoon classes on Mondays. But you also wanted to slowly distance yourself from the mass responsibility for this team.

“Why not?” Your father asked while furrowing his brows.

“I’m uh,” you paused and thought up your lie as quickly as possible, “I’m sort of behind on a paper for a class that I have,”

“Oh well,” your father nodded, “I guess we’ll figure out if you can make it for a road game with me or not soon then,”

“Sounds good, daddy,” you smiled and then hugged him again, “have fun celebrating the win. Sammy and I have to get going now,”

“Get home safe, girls,” he said and then you two said your goodbyes to him before walking out of the suite.

As you were leading the way towards the elevator Sammy spoke up from behind you, “I can just Uber home,” she said.

“What?” You questioned her while hitting the button.

“You know, if you want to leave with William,” she said his name hushed as a few hockey fans walked up - two were ironically wearing Willy’s jersey.

“I’m not sure of my plan yet,” you admitted, “but I’ll pay for your ride if I do leave you,” you added with a smile.

“No you don’t-”

“Shut up and take the ride, Sammy,” you rolled your eyes and she just shrugged as the two of you walked into the elevator.

“Sorry folks but I can only take you down one level to the main concourse as this is a VIP elevator,” the usher inside said while hitting the buttons. The others in the elevators only nodded at him, but you pulled out your badge and showed him.

“She’s with me too,” you said while looping your arms with Sammy’s.

“No problem, Miss Y/L/N,” he nodded and scanned his badge to hit the right floor for you, “I assume you’d like level one, going to the dressing room?” He asked.

As your last name and the mentioning of the dressing room came up, the hockey fans in the elevator all looked to you. Two whispered to each other while the other sent you a smile. You returned the smile before nodding to the usher.

“I thought she was just a fan,” one of the guys whispered - loudly, of course.

“No idiot, thats her dad’s jersey,” another said. You held in your chuckles while the doors opened to the main floor and they walked out, then the usher politely told the people waiting they couldn’t get on - which of course a few gave you weird looks before the door closed again.

“Sometimes I forget that fans can recognize you,” Sammy said.

“Miss, my apologies for letting the fans on the elevator with you,” the usher said.

“Oh no,” you threw up your hands, “absolutely not an issue, I’m not that special to get a personal elevator,” you chuckled.

He nodded and then the doors were opening again as you arrived at the ice level. You looked up from the ground and met face-to-face with a few familiar faces. Of course your eyes fell to his blue ones before another else’s there. You blushed as he sent you a smirk. Beside him Kappy, Auston and Zach all seemed surprised to see you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Zach said while walking into the elevator.

“Come to congratulate us personally,” Auston grinned as he stepped in as well, “I don’t recall you showing up to the dressing room so often before,” he added, his grin turning into smirk as he looked at Willy.

“Funny,” you muttered under your breath.

Willy walked into the elevator, standing close to your side as his eyes stayed on yours. “You didn’t answer my text,” he stated.

“I haven’t gotten the chance to look at my phone yet, sorry,” you said timidly while reaching into your purse. Just as you were pulling out your phone the usher spoke up again.

“Were you getting off Miss Y/L/N?” He asked. As he asked, you read the message from Willy.

Would you want to come over after the game?

You looked up at Willy and inhaled deeply, “no, parking is fine,” you nodded and then looked over to Sammy whom was smirking.

“Looks like you’ll be ordering that Uber for me after all huh?” She teased as the elevator began to move. You couldn’t help but chuckle as all the boys gave you two weird looks.

Feeling the liquor, you leaned into Willy and felt at ease as his arm wrapped around you and his hand rested on your hip. Whatever the night had in store for you two, you knew you were going to be happy. All because you’d be spending the night with him. Suddenly you realized, it was late, and that meant there was a high possibility that you could spend the night at Willy’s.

It was a little awkward, the whole making sure you ditched your friend properly and then deal with all the guys at once as you got to the parking lot. Seems the other girls had met with Matt, Marner and Kappy. Sydney gave you a look - like ‘no freaking way you’re leaving with him is this for real?’ - which was soon mirrored by Steph and Annika too. 

“Did you want to come out with us?” Mitch asked, looking at both you and Willy. You looked up and Willy, he just shrugged and then yawned. 

“I think we’ll pass this time,” you said with a smile while looking back at the group. 

It was weird, speaking for you and Willy - sort of like a couple. But it also made your stomach fill with butterflies. The group then said their goodbyes and split in half basically. Mitch, Matt, Auston, Freddie, Steph and Sydney left to go celebrate the win while you, Annika, Willy and Kappy all left together. 

You were well aware that Kappy and Willy were roommates, it was nearly a routine to get a snapchat from Kappy of Willy in his underwear each morning. Since they lived together they carpooled together, this time Willy had driven. He had a shiny brand new smelling BMWx6, which happened to be probably your favourite BMW design. You were into cars, and as Willy took in your face he knew you appreciated his choice. 

The drive was quiet mostly, besides a few comments here and there, then once you got into Kappy and Willy’s apartment the boys both went straight for the fridge. Annika took a seat at one of the bar stool and motioned you to come sit beside her instead of awkwardly standing there. 

“They go ham after games, the two eat more food than I do in a week I swear,” she stated as the microwave got going and Willy filled up his glass from the water dispenser. He then turned and looked your way. 

“Did you want anything at all?” He asked. 

You smiled and shook your head. He smiled back before shaking up some salad and then he begun to eat. You and Annika talked while the boys engulfed in their post-game meals. Nothing too much about the game and hockey in general came up, it was a nice change then the usual drilling of the plays from your father after games. 

“Yeah the suite’s really nice, it’s bigger than the others in the arena,” you noted. 

“It looks like a hotel room from afar,” Annika chuckled. 

“You’ll have to come sit with me sometime, it’s fun, free food and drinks,” you shrugged. Annika immediately agreed at the proposition. “Oh did you see the video I took during the game, it’s on my story,” you said while bringing up your snapchat app. 

“No, why?” She asked with her brows pulled together. 

“Well you’re kinda in it, but then Willy freaking scored so it took the video to a while other level,” you explained. At the sound of his name, Willy looked up at you and stood from his lazy lean against the island counter across from you. 

You opened the snap and played it for Annika, she laughed as the fans and yourself cheered in the video. As it replayed again she continued to laugh, pointing out how Steph was literally mid bite of her pizza. As it went to play again, Willy had made a move and came up behind you, peering over your shoulder at the video. 

Feeling sort of nervous as the camera filled and the part of you and Sammy cheering came on, you looked over your shoulder a bit at where Willy stood beside you. He was smiling, which cause yet another eruption of butterflies and your lips to curl to a smile too. 

“I think we’re going to head to bed now,” Annika announced as she got up from her seat and Kappy put his dish by the sink. “Night guys,” she smiled and they headed down the hall. 

You had bent up one knee and were resting your phone on your knee while going through your snapchat story once more. Willy lazily leaned into you, nearly knocking you off the stool, and put an arm around your shoulder. Smiling, you put down your phone and looked at him. 

“Tired?” You asked. 

Willy nodded, “but we can stay up a bit longer, watch a movie, lay in bed,” he ended with a smirk. You rolled your eyes but smiled as well. 

Lacing your hand with his, you got off the stool and made sure to grab your phone before letting William lead the way to his room. Surprising you, it was clean, really clean actually. For some reason you just expected Willy to be a messy person, yet so far his car and room were nearly spotless. 

“It’s so clean,” you stated while looking around the room. Willy chuckled and opened the second drawer of his dresser. 

“You thought it’d be messy?”

“What young guy doesn’t have a messy room?” You chucked and sat down on his bed - which was made. 

Willy shrugged before suddenly taking off his shirt. You were slightly taken off guard, looking down at the floor for a second as your cheeks flushed. Taking one deep breath, you laid down in his bed and tucked the covers up to your chin while keeping your eyes on him. Willy sighed and hit 'ok' on the remote a few more times till the sounds of the beginning of the movie started up. Then, ever so slowly, he got into the bed beside you. 

It felt like the air was being taken right out of your lungs. As William's body came up beside you, he put his arm around you and then you felt his fingers trembling on your side. He was so gentle beside you, acting as though he was going to break you. 

The thought made you giggle and snuggle up beside him suddenly feeling as though you had to take control of this whole situation. "You know, I'm not going to break, I'm not made of glass," you teased. 

Willy's eyes fell down and met your gaze as you tilted your head up to look at him. He let out a shaken breath but then one corner of his lips turned up into a smile. 

"I know, I guess it all sort of just hit me," he paused and his hand by your side moved as his fingertips brushed your side, "that this is real, I guess I can't believe we're really doing this," 

You smiled at his words. He was just as nervous as you were. You so desperately wished you didn't even have to feel this way, but it was the way it had to be till your father came to terms with you seeing a player of his team. You parted your lips and let a hand fall to Willy's chest. 

"Me neither," you paused and smirked, "now shut up and kiss me," you said before leaning closer to his face. Willy heard you loud and clear as his lips crashed onto yours. 

The kiss was all you needed in that moment. Then you pulled away and laid back again, looking to the TV screen across the room now. Moana was on, causing you to smile once again. 

"Hey," you said after a moment of silence between you two. Willy torn his eyes from the TV and looked at you. "You played really good tonight, I just wanted you to know that," you smiled. 

"It means a lot coming from you," Willy said, his lips curled up into a smile that matched yours. 

"Okay now that's out of the way, to the weird I don't want to be that girl but I'm going to be that girl crap that's on my mind," you sighed and sat up a little more as the few questions racking your mind bothered you more and more. 

Willy's brows pulled together, "what's up?" 

"First, me coming over tonight, was that like a through the night thing?" You asked and then bit down on your bottom lip. 

"I mean, yeah," Willy shrugged with a smile on his face, "unless you want to leave then I can drive you home," 

"No, I'll stay," you nodded, "but although I'm sure it's totally hot and all, I'm going to need something else besides this jersey to wear because I'm totally hot in it," you said while fanning yourself. 

William laughed and got up from his spot in bed. As you watched him walk to his dresser once more and open a drawer you started to feel less stiff and worried. Instead you felt that familiar feeling of ease and comfort around Willy again. He pulled out a tshirt and then some sweatpants too. Just before he could toss them your way you sat up and spoke once more. 

"Annika mentioned something to me earlier," you started, "about a games night with everyone before your big road trip this week. I know it's not my place to like invite myself but-" 

"You're invited, Y/N," Willy chuckled. He placed the clothes down beside you and sat on the bed again. "In fact I was going to mention it tomorrow morning," 

"Over breakfast?" You asked with a smile. 

"Of course," Willy nodded. You nodded too and then lifted yourself up to your knees and placed both of your hands firmly on his shoulders. Leaning forward you caught his lips with yours and let yourself relax even more with that tingling feeling you got with the kiss. 

"I'm going to go use the washroom, and change," you stated while getting off the bed after the kiss was over. Willy nodded and laid back in bed. 

"The door straight across is my washroom,"

"Okay, I'll be right back," 

Willy replied with a yawn and then you were out the bedroom and getting yourself ready to sleep in the washroom. The shirt was big enough to only wear that, but you decided to throw on the large sweats too. Even though you'd so love to sleep half naked - or completely naked - beside Willy, you liked him too much to rush into all that. 

You pulled your hair up into a ponytail once again and then were all finished up so you switched off the light and made your way back to Willy's room. With the only light coming from the movie on the TV, you looked towards the bed and saw Willy laying there. Eyes closed and arm sprawled out over what was your pillow for the night. 

Smiling, you walked across the room and slide under the covers once more. With the movement from you getting into bed, William stirred, you moved his arm but he was quick to know where it was going and pulled you towards him. You giggled and placed your hand over his that laid on your stomach. His lips touched your ear, sending a chill down your spine as he let out a breath. 

"I'm really trying to stay awake," he said softly. 

"Don't, just sleep," you said back in a whisper. 

"I wanted to spend time with you," he responded but snuggled more into his bed while doing so. 

"You will, tomorrow, and any other day," 

You felt his lips turn up into a smile on the skin behind your ear before he whispered into your ear once more, "I like the sounds of that," he said. 

"Me too," you sighed and watched the movie that was still on quietly. "Goodnight," you said softly and rubbed your hand up and down Willy's arm. 

"Goodnight, babe," he murmured back. 

Your head felt like it was swelling up while your lips hurt from the grin you were hiding from Willy. Even though it was so casual and he was half asleep, hearing him call you babe caused you to like him even more - as though it was possible to like this stupid blonde boy even more than you already did.

[washdayradionetwork]

Ten Records That Changed My Life

Why does this feel so ... soul-shriving?

Anyway, the list is chronological to the best of my recollection. It begins when I'm 15. It ends in August of 2018. I'm probably forgetting some things. It's been a long time.

Copland: Rodeo/Billy The Kid; New York Philharmonic; Leonard Bernstein, conducting: We were rehearsing selections from Copland's Rodeo in youth symphony. This marked the first time I ever heard a recording of a piece I was rehearsing (God bless my hometown library). The very idea that I was playing music that Leonard Bernstein had conducted was unimaginably powerful. Suddenly, music, which had always been exhilarating was serious business, too.

Thank You, Music Lovers; Spike Jones: I have my dad and, once again, the La Habra Library to thank for this one. A record that, in effect, was the obverse of the Copland, with serious musicians doing unabashedly-silly stuff without ever abandoning classical rigor.

Roses In the Snow; Emmylou Harris: My dad was country. My mother was not. After a 16-year middlebrow reign of terror, during which country music was banned on our stereo and tolerated on the great god, television, this is the record that reminded me I like things twangy af.

Clannad; Self-titled: 1983. On a drive through Mendocino, a friend popped this cassette into the player, and I was instantly smitten. As the reviewer says, I've grown out of this record in favor of stuff that's at once more traditional and more experimental, but this is where my love of Irish folk music began.

Without Clannad, I wouldn't have seen The Chieftains in concert twice, wouldn't have tuned in to Thistle and Shamrock every Saturday night for years. And I wouldn't have understood nearly as much about bluegrass going in.

Sun City; Artists United Against Apartheid: Despite being born into a conservative family, I've been a liberal for as long as I can remember.

My particular brand of liberalism never extended to corrupt charitable efforts, however; the rampant misuse of the monies collected for the No Nukes campaign left me wary of vanity charities. Did they know what they were talking about? Did they care?

A few years later, conservative acquaintances tried to get me to abandon my commitment to Live Aid by sharing stories of foodstuffs left rotting on the docks at Addis Ababa, thanks to self-satisfied rock star incompetence.

It wasn't until years later that those stories were not only proven false, but politically motivated, as well.

When the Sun City record premiered, I hung on to my money, went once again to my local library, and read everything about South Africa I could get my hands on. I satisfied myself that I had a reasonable grasp of the issues, albeit primarily from the perspective of literary and liberal South African whites. You see, apartheid extended to the arts, too.

Armed with this knowledge, I began cautiously to listen to what Artists United Against Apartheid had to say. I devoured every excerpt of this documentary that MTV cared to televise. At last, I satisfied myself that they knew what they were doing, and were fully committed to getting it done. I bought the vinyl and the VHS. I believe my money was well spent.

Whenever some rebel with a cause comes calling, this is, now and forever, how I handle it.

The Peace Album; Paul Horn: I was burned out on music. I would see local bands on stage and go home just-below-boiling jealous. Thank God I had the maturity to ask myself just what I would do up there if I had the chance.

I had no idea.

Then, I heard this record, and got excited about music -- about performing -- again. This kind of choral singing with flutes was what I wanted to do.

So, I tracked down a Conn Multivider just like Paul Horn used -- only to discover that I'd have to drill holes in my flute to connect the thing.

Yeah, no.

I conferred with fellow musicians who were infinitely more tech-savvy than I. Did I really have to risk ruining the flute I'd had since fifth grade to get this sound? They concurred that I did.

Yeah.

No.

I had a funeral in my mind. I'm still not over it.

Roll In My Sweet Baby's Arms; Jimmy Martin: This and the next two records hit me like a ton of bricks. They brought me not only to bluegrass, but back to my musical self. This one had the high lonesome sound, and the punishing bluegrass technique, but it had something more: rock 'n' roll energy. You could do that?

Turns out you could. Music that came up in approximately the same time frame as my dad did, could be dangerous.

The very idea set my brain on fire. On further examination, I discovered that my dad's music sounded a lot more hip and a lot less out of date.

It seems that the big band singers who were Bill Monroe's contemporaries had grown up listening to the blues too.

Wait A Minute; The Seldom Scene: This bluegrass wasn't dangerous -- unless you were the kind who stole lunch money and beat up younger kids.

Written by banjoist and L.A. session stalwart, Herb Pedersen. "Wait A Minute" was 70s-sensitive and classically precise (Tenor vocalist, John Duffey, had picked up a few vocal tricks from his dad, who sang in the chorus of the Metropolitan Opera). Just what I, a die-hard fan of 19th century Russian classical music, needed in order to remember myself in the midst of the vernacular.

Tiny Broken Heart; Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerard: In spite of everything, I felt something was missing from bluegrass. I had no idea what it was until I heard this song. Then and now, bluegrass is at its best when it is sharing the stories of forgotten and downtrodden folks.

All Or Nothing; The Small Faces: A record that simultaneously brought me back to rock 'n' roll, and reminded me of the energy and emotional truth I first heard in bluegrass. Just what I needed after 12 years of forsaking all others for the love of Bill, Ralph, Jimmy, and The Scene.

My standards are exacting, but I do best when my palette is big and varied. Since the Small Faces were virtually unheard of in the States, their music satisfied my urge for discovery. And soul.

I should end things here with some kind of summarizing paragraph. Trouble is, it's not over yet.

[miss-butter]

Things I Thought That Were Not COVID (January - June) Ending

~having journaling sessions so intense I get a headache 

~ the RHONY cast casually drinking martinis plural at bars like it's a chill thing to do and they're not immediately going to black out?? Damn. 

~ e v e r m o r e 

 ~ the intensely stressful harmonica opening of All I Really Want while Alanis wails "do I stress you out" over the top of it 

~ today I feel like an eye that opened very very wide. What I saw was a door, opening 

~ through the fog I thought the city was the sky 

~ I carry all of this inside of me. It makes me very still 

~ "I am slow as the world. 

I am very patient, 

Turning through my time, the suns and stars 

Regarding me with attention. 

The moon's concern is more personal: 

She passes and repasses, luminous as a nurse. 

Is she sorry for what will happen? I do not think so. 

She is simply astonished at fertility." 

~ people with no self awareness/people with no sense of humor about themselves truly need to go live on a farm away from me 

~ the piano player that lives below me, the guitar player that lives above me 

~ "the sun whose rays are all ablaze" 

~ Room Memory I: the PERFECT sensation. Wearing my coat with a bagful of plastic spoons in my hands, leaping into krts car that smelled like dogs and cigs and is a smell that makes me feel so warm. Going over the bridge into Minneapolis chatting with them while the radio played (krts parents would play the radio, old and new, it was a thing I have never ever stopped appreciating). The times we'd get snacks at the theatre, dreaming of the day we'd be old enough to look upstairs (we haven't yet). The dark room, the laughter in the shadows and the feeling of fulfillment and validation. How their parents were there to collect us after and I got to see them on the Monday after that night. 

~ Room Memory II: me and emma and bast going to see it in the winter of a year I can't remember. Driving across the Minneapolis bridge in a snow storm, slow but with intention. We arrived early, and saw a cat on it's way home before taking shelter in a late night kowalskis. They had never seen it before, and I think my friend Eric was there but that might have been another time. Laughter, darkness. Emma drove home in the blizzard, tracking over deep, deep, inches of snow in the dark over the bridge and home. When we got back my parents were asleep, and I remember us piling our feet over the vent to catch the heat in my living room. Oh, babes. 

~ why do people ask where the love you had for a person goes when that person is no longer with you?? As though feelings are so easily generated that you can just release a life that you led and say "that goes there now, away". I think I'm STILL feeling everything I've ever felt in my life, nothing can truly ever go away. Also, the idea that because a person is no longer beside you that that somehow influences how you feel and what you feel and when you feel it! Can't relate. 

~ That Scene in Frances Ha where they fight in the bathroom and: 

Sophie: You're bullshit, and you're making me feel really bad right now. 

Frances: I want to love him if you love him, but you don't love him. 

Sophie:  I DO. 

Frances: Sophie, I fucking held your head while you cried, I bought special milk for you, I know where you hide your pills, don't treat me like a three hour brunch friend. 

Sophie: I'm not talking to you while you're like this. 

~ I never would have known, but there are pieces of me only Paul and Fred can reach. I want to go back to my Little Self, the first time I saw Fred, probably hungover, wiping sleep out of his eyes in that chair in Brownville, and whisper: "that's your brother. That's your real brother." She might burst into tears and never stop weeping with joy. That she had a brother who was a good man. A man of character. 

~ I got fired, and two days later I allowed myself to get packed into a truck and taken to a lake. On the way there I stopped at the first restaurant I'd been to since march, and I was so scared I slurped down three vodka sodas with a burger. When I arrived it felt like a miracle, like paradise. I remember everyone went to the beach in the twilight but I stayed, and sat on the patio and smoked a stolen cig, and listened to The Beautiful Ones 5 times thinking of how badly I'd like to be a nun because I couldn't stand the thought of other people. Somehow the moment still makes me feel so. Just So. Hearing it now is like seeing a ghost. 

~ do all people feel this way? Oscillating between airy fulfillment and vanilla scented oblivion? When I think about death I think of little sideways smiles, heavy lids, radiator squeaks, That Tree I still see in my memories. Somedays I feel like I'm full of Cool Whip, otherwise gelatinous, heavy, falling apart like an aspic. 

~I still refuse to be sorry that I find some of the things lena dunham does and says to be funny, suck my hood 

~ I constantly see tweets and stories that go something like "I told my 4 year old ____ and then they *insert action or phrase no 4 year old would ever do or say*. Yes, brilliant child. Yes." Like....the compulsive need to make shit up about your child in order to appeal to strangers on the internet is a form of Munchausen by proxy we as a society would do well to reckon with. It wasn't ok when those lesbians with the adopted kids made their son hug that cop, it's not cool for your "cute" tweet, babe. 

~ people who refer to their pets as "fur babies" have either tried to or successfully gotten their pets to eat them out. You can't change my mind. 

~ the stars in Death Valley 

~ next year in Nebraska 

 ~ it's beshert. No matter what you choose, no matter where it goes, the act of looking and of learning was beshert. This moment was meant to be. 

~ it's going to be such a bummer when my tits start to go off to the side when I lay down. How can we endure it? 

~ family: watching musicals with The Boys, swearing that we'll go to NYC together. Fred's face, Paul's smile, the sound of MEMORY let your Memory lead you I remember a time I knew what happiness was let the Memory live again 

~ I'm too upset to write / I'm too upset not to write 

~ the bruise, the deep round bruise, the lump beneath it 

~ $80,000 each; $240,000 total after amendments 

~ I lean to my wound, I lean to my wound 

~ disgusting girl, nasty pie-faced thing filled with fruit the color of plastic gems. Veins plugged up with sugar, eyes full of stars. 

~ its lucky to not be bothered at all by blood, I must have been born under something (or over something) 

~ this is the worst lead up so far I've ever had. Utterly alone, unsupported by....who? The r u b i c o n, the gentry, even the rabble. Sitting in a lukewarm tub, soaking the wound, empty head in the room between shitting and living. Thank god for grapefruit chapstick, and for Them. 

~I'm.......babing out 

~ how nice for her, how nice for him, how nice for everyone  (breaks glass in my fist) 

~ I am the drug that you need, shoot me up shoot me up 

~ Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female was a definite top 

~ muttering to myself in a Mark Wahlberg voice just to get a good giggle 

~ making things for my brothers daughter; playing peeks with Jeremy; reading a book with John; playing sticks with natalie; talking about books with Noah. Being a woman with five nieces and nephews to watch grow up. 

~ “She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.” 

~ Nora Ephron, and Melissa Broder. The now maligned art of self-confessional writing that I find infuriating when men do it (woody allen) but not unlike sinking into a hot bath when a n y o n e else does it. 

~ My dad telling me about his golf tournament, my dad telling me stories of seeing bands in the 70s, my dad finding out who Blac Chyna is and saying "she's amazing", my dad knowing every character ever on Law and Order, my dad and Noah bent over a chessboard, my dad taking a splinter out of my sisters finger. 

~ if I was a Housewife my tagline would be: "my attitude isn't MY problem, it's yours!" 

~ I have a recurring nightmare where I went to my first day of Spanish class and then just never returned? And I knew I was going to fail but for some reason really wanted to make it to the final bc that might make a difference? True claustrophobic panic. 

~ I have an incurable disease? I have an incurable disease! 

~ a m e r i c a n  w o m a n 

~ DR Q: should I be on antibiotics until surg? Ointment yes. What in detail will happen after surg/how will it heal/will it heal? If the wound is not going to heal after surgery is it necessary to do it at all? Down the line, when can I have sex? Can I take full body baths? Is there a specialist I can take these to? Should I shave before surg? Infections? 

~Potential Bday Marathon w bois: Big Lebowski, Wild, Stand By Me, Almost Famous, Frances Ha 

~ I am going to be well, I am going to heal, and I am going to be better one mesh shirt and gauze pad at a time 

~ Tommy Wiseau saying "I've sumfin fer youuuuu" 

~ hating the Grateful Dead SO much but knowing all the words to Box of Rain. Singing it in the bath first thing in the morning while my coffee brews. 

~ I've been making this list for a year 

~ "Butt out, Baby" 

~ What I have done I was compelled to do 

~ sitting here in this humid April heat, remembering the blizzard last Easter, with Band of Brothers episode 5 on the tv, a lavender candle flaming, a message from Fred flitting across my screen like a dear little bird, my disease pulsing in my cells, my hair long in a ponytail, thinking of my brothers wedding in a few days. I've cried three times. 'You should be so lucky,' I think, over and over again. 'You should be so lucky to have this love, to have room for this pain. Le douleur exquise.' Thank you and thank you and thank you (and, if you have time, let me heal) 

~on the phone with Natalie, laughing hysterically as she takes shots and calls me Marat 

~ Last night in my dream the doctor called my wound "the bog" 

~ I might....actually want to watch Desperate Housewives again 

~ the dinner the RHONY gals have in the Berkshires season 8 is my IDEAL meal, just a roast chicken with herbs de provence, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and cranberries. 

~ Again, tonight in the bath: 

"Just a box of rain 

Wind and water 

Believe it if you need it 

If you don't, just pass it on 

Sun and shower, wind and rain 

In and out the window like a moth before a flame 

And it's just a box of rain 

I don't know who put it there 

Believe it if you need it 

Or leave it if you dare 

And it's just a box of rain 

Or a ribbon for your hair 

Such a long long time to be gone 

And a short time to be there" 

 ~ a really cathartic thing to do is throw ice cubes at the wall 

~ crying on the kitchen floor and thinking of amy winehouse singing: "I cried for you on the kitchen floor." 

~  note for later: what are you doing? What are you d o i n g ? Get out, get out, get out. It ain't shit, babe. Ain't shit. 

~ you're a woman of genuine wit, write what you feel and how you're feeling it. Someone, someone, someone anywhere will see it and will cheer 

~ that season of vanderpump where schaena fucked adam and denied it the whole time but was so obviously in Love with him while he could care less about her, culminating in her adopting a penguin from the zoo and giving him the gift of it. She named it after him. Imagine loving someone that much that you would do this. 

~ the loveliness of a braid. A braid in hair, in rope, in bread. How a figment becomes a pattern, becomes history slapping against my shoulders. 

~ spring cleaning for mothers day. Egg salad and a nip of whiskey after dark. Feeling very old and yet very at sea 

~ A Thought: I should think about my neighbors on my death bed. I hear them speak through my walls, the boy that gets in screaming philosophical arguments and the upstairs girls who shriek. My neighbors who stomp, and my neighbors who dance all around me, the ones who were groaning in pain in the stairwell before going quiet. I can hear their laughter, and I've thrown things towards it and felt bad about it later. Their pianos on cold fall afternoons, and the late night guitar they probably think nobody hears. The couple with the large, spindly dog who isn't allowed to be here, and the cat that I pet on the stairs, the barefoot boy cradling his cat in his arms after the fire alarm went off, the chic looking lady with her carrier. The girl I went to college with, hidden somewhere in here. The ones who've come, and who've gone. They've likely heard me, too; crying, coming, laughing until I have to scream into it. Maybe they hear my music, too. I've left them cough drops, left them notes, brought packages upstairs, held the door, gifted cups of detergent. I'll remember the bike, abandoned in the laundry room even when management kept sending emails about it. 

~ I'm afraid one day I'm going to turn around in bed and my wound will be my lover, my wound will be companion, who will press up against me as I make coffee, who will throb under my sheets, who will sit beside me as I eat dinner, drink a glass of wine. She weeps, and last night I thought: "do I make you wet, baby?" and I laughed. Hedwig says laugh because otherwise you'll cry, I'll remember it forever. When I laughed everything tightened up and I Hurt and Hurt. Tonight I'm very, very, very alone, and my bath radiated through me like I was a boiled lobster. When I watched RHONY naked I felt the wound put its hand on my thigh, and it felt like I was living with someone I didn't trust. Gone Girl hours. 

~ I look like a cloud 

~ I have a true disease of the soul and mind in which I'm not capable of forgetting anything. This must be due in part to me being a Leo and therefore being a righteous holder of grudges, but I can't even manage to forget a purchase I made at CVS that I didn't feel great about three years ago much less an interaction with a friend that isn't reflective of Either of us now but that fills me with rot. In this sense, retrospect hits me very hard because nothing ever leaves me. I'm like a desk and papers get piled on top of each other and sometimes it gets messy but each memory is just under the surface of another. Needless to say, if I tell somebody that I can't remember something I'm usually lying to them just to avoid being bored. Which is something to think about, to be sure. Anyway, tell me the story again. 

~ I feel naughty and covetous, big-titted and sharp-toothed and green-eyed and hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry. I always get this way when the whether turns hot. Everything is getting deeper, thicker. For the better and the worse. Keep your candy away from me or I'm going to take it from you. 

~ "My daughter. My last one. She's my sin. She's what I smeared on the world." 

~ the beginning of the summer I sweat, and I bleed, and crack, and i hate and hate, until. Until. The window must be left open, to let the lion in. While I sleep it crawls out of my closet and lays down upon me and I wake up with my hair in a snarl and an insatiable throbbing in my veins. The air is hot, and I'm ready to swallow the moon again. Be  r e b o r n. 

~ it's nice to meet you. I'm 26 years old, I'm a woman of cracks and fissures, a woman of unprentention who relishes pretending, baddest, chatterbox slut, writing gay porn every night if i can manage it, irremediable sky watcher, secret smoker, mainliner of unhip music, dizzy lady, silly goose. I think the moon is in my neighbors window, and I look up at the impression and thank her. 

~ I'm vaccinated, I'm going to a party at my sisters house, I have a person in my phone who I think likes me and I Know wants to fuck me. I've written 1,000 words every day this week. This year I’m spending my birthday in Nebraska. Let the season begin, let me move west into a long, brilliant wind.