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gainaxvel3o · 4 years ago

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A Miraculous Tale of Rubybug and Cat Blake: Chapter 1

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Once Upon a Time, Part 1: Along Came a Ladybug!

Once upon a time, the Earth was a barren wasteland. Creatures known as the Grimm dominated, leaving mankind at the brink of destruction at any given moment. All hope seemed lost until a band of humans gathered together to call upon the gods for aid. Their prayers were answered, as the Kwamis descended from the heavens above to aid humans in their time of need.

Because they could not exist in the physical world without a tether, jewels were forged to tie the Kwamis to the humans, bestowing extraordinary powers on whoever wielded them. These were... the Miraculous. The humans overcame the Grimm, and throughout history, heroes have used these magic items for the good of mankind.

Of all the Miraculous, two of them were more powerful than the others: the earrings of the Ladybug, which provide the unlimited power of luck and creation, and the ring of the Black Cat, which grants the power of misfortune and destruction. According to legend, whoever controls both these jewels at the same time will be able to achieve absolute power that will grant forth whatever their hearts desire.

…

"I see."

An older woman played around with the brooch in her hand, the fingers on her other hand tapping on her desk. Her lips curved into a cruel smile, one that promised pain towards those who crossed her.

"Then I want that absolute power, Nooroo." She said. "I must have the Miraculous."

_______________________________________________________________________

"Oh, I can't believe my baby sister is going to Beacon with me! This is the best day ever!"

A tall girl crushed her sibling in a tight bear hug. The elder had blond hair, lilac eyes, a brown jacket, a yellow tank shity underneath and short pants; the younger had grey eyes, black hair with tips were colored red, a white shirt combined with a red hoodie. The bus had taken them far from their home in Patch into Vale, the big city. They were on their way to Beacon University, a college known for producing some of the best in the world. Only the most determined would survive even a year in this school.

"Please… stooooop." Ruby said while gasping for air. "You're embarrassing me in front of everyone!"

Yang chuckled, letting go of her sister. "But I'm so proud of you!

"Really sis," Ruby said low, "it was nothing."

"What do you mean? It was incredible!" Yang said bewildered. "Everyone at Beacon is going to think you're the bee's knees."

"I don't want to be the 'bee's knees' okay?" Ruby said. "I don't want to be any kind of knees! I just want to be a normal girl with normal knees. I wanna get through this year without too much trouble."

Yang looked at her a touch sad. "I know things were rough at Signal. Mom, Dad and I were honestly grateful that you got the opportunity because of how miserable you were. But things will be different here! Aren't you excited?

"Of course I'm excited... I just... " Ruby sighed. "I got moved ahead two years. I went from the beginning of high school to college. I don't want people to think I'm special or anything."

"But you are special, Ruby." Yang pulled her sister into a one-armed hug, gently squeezing her. "Trust me, by the end of the year you're gonna be so happy."

Unknown to the sisters, a blond boy trembled with his hands on his stomach. He hunched over on Yang's foot and vomited all over her.

"What the HELL?!"

"Oh, Yang, gross! You have puke on your shoe!"

"Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross!"

"Get-Get away! Get away from me! Get away from me! Get away from me! Get away from me!"

_______________________________________________________________________

A while later, the two got off the bus to stare at their future.

Beacon University was a castle in the middle of the city. The first thing one notices is the tower in the middle of the structure, with smaller building surrounding it on all sides, a long entrance to the University welcoming all.

The sisters carried their luggage with them as they looked at the sight of their future with awe.

"Wooow…"

"The pictures have nothing on this, Rubes!" Yang said. "Rubes?"

"Ohmygosh, sis! Everybody looks so pretty!" Ruby said while staring at students walking pass. "I see people frills and… oh a goth too!"

Ruby tried to run off but Yang pulled her by the hood. "Ow! Ooww!"

"Easy there, little sister." Yang said. "We only just got here and you're gushing about everyone's clothes!"

"Sorry it's just… fashion is an extension of ourselves!" Ruby said gushing. "Clothes represent us you know! Oh, they're so cool!"

Yang rolled her eyes, but completely understood. Ever since she was a kid Ruby had been passionate about her dreams.

"Well, I'm gonna do some explorin'! 'Kay, see ya, bye!"

She ran off, leaving Ruby by herself flailing.

"Wait, where are you going?!" Ruby yelled out "Are we supposed to go to our dorms? Where are our dorms? Do we have dorms?"

Ruby looked around the area. All she could see were students passing by, not even noticing her. She sighed.

"I don't know what I'm doing…"

So she decided to just move on ahead. If Ruby remembered correctly there was supposed to be a meeting at the auditorium later so maybe she should just find a way there? Yeah that seemed right. Makes sense. All she has to do is just keep walking and walking, maybe do a skip-

Ruby bumped into a luggage cart, knocking it down and sending the cases to the floor. Someone is standing over her.

"What do you THINK you're doing?!"

Ruby looked up. She saw a young girl, white hair and blue eyes, coldly staring at her. Ruby got up on her hands. "Uh, sorry!"

"Sorry?! Do you have any idea of the damage you could have caused?"

"I'm so sorry really I was just…" Ruby looked at the cases. "Huh? Those are-"

"Give me that!" The girl snatched the cases from Ruby. "These are Schnee brand high quality dresses! Very expensive material if I say so myself."

"Wait," Ruby pointed at the girl. "Then you must be-!"

"Does your brain-dead skull at last recognize me?" The girl placed a hand to herself, giving a proud smirk. "Everyone far and wide knows the name of Weiss Schnee! You've probably seen me across billboards, magazines and live contests, winner of several Model of the Year awards! I have studied and trained my whole life to enter this university but you… you seem a bit too young to be here."

Ruby scratched the back of her head. "Well, I-I..."

"This isn't your ordinary school." Weiss crossed her arms while scowling. "It's not just sunshines and rainbows in a and of make believe! We're here to climb to the top, so... watch where you're going!"

"Hey, I said I was sorry, princess!" Ruby had had just about enough of her. She gripped her luggage to storm off.

"It's heiress, actually."

Upon hearing that, Ruby and Weiss looked to the side. Another girl, tanned skin and the most golden eyes Ruby had ever seen, stood over the two. She had a bow on her head, a book in hand and her bag in the other. She looked profoundly annoyed.

"Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Fashion Company, one of the largest fashion brands in the world."

Weiss smiled smugly. "Finally! Some recognition!"

"The same company infamous for its controversial labor forces and questionable business partners."

Ruby chuckled at the sight of Weiss immediately dropping her smug demeanor and getting angry. "Wha- How dare- The nerve of... Ugh!"

She placed the last case into the luggage cart before walking off in a huff.

"I promise I'll make this up to you!" Ruby turned around. "I guess I'm not the only one having a rough first day... So, what's..."

The stranger wasn't there. Ruby moved to see she had been walking off as well.

Ruby sighed. "Welcome to Beacon…"

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Ruby turned to see the blond guy from the bus giving her a sympathetic look.

"I'm having a pretty bad day too." He raised a hand up. "How about we go to the auditorium together? 'Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet.' like my mom says."

'Oh shoot, he wants to be friends!' Ruby thought. 'Okay you're not screwing this up Ruby, don't screw this up don't screw this up YOU GOT THIS!'

"Ruby." She took his hand and shook it. "You're the vomit boy from the bus!"

_______________________________________________________________________

"All I'm saying is that motion sickness is a much more common problem than people let on!"

Ruby and her new friend walked down the indoors of Beacon. They passed through a window that gave them a view of the garden currently being taken care of by helpers.

"Look, I'm sorry!" Ruby said. "Vomit Boy was the first thing that came to mind."

"How about we don't do that then?" Vomit boy said. "The name's Jaune Arc! Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue, ladies love it!"

Ruby gave him a skeptical look. "Do they?"

"They will!" He looked to the sides nervously. "Well, I-I hope they will. My mom always says that... Never mind. Are you majoring in anything?"

The shorter girl giggled. "I am! I plan on becoming a fashion designer. Lemme show you!"

She placed her bag down on the floor. Opening it up, she pulled out a notebook. It read on the spine Volume 1. Ruby had labeled it that after realizing one notebook wouldn't be enough for her creative mind. She's had several notebooks over the years, seven of which she brought with her.

"I've had all these designs and ideas for a long time!" Ruby said. "Here here take a look!"

Jaune took the notebook and started flipping through it. He didn't expect much out of the notebook except some neat doodles. The more he saw, the more his eyes widened.

"My God, these are so complex! It's incredible!" Jaune said, amazed. "You made all these yourself?"

"Yup, sure did!" Ruby smiled. "Been practicing since I was little. I love fashion, it's like a reflection of who we are and what we decide to put out into the world. I wanna bring out the best in everyone. Sorry, that sounds silly right?"

Jaune laughed. "You kidding? That's pretty cool. It's pretty amazing you had this all figured out as a kid. I still haven't figured out what I want. I don't even have a major yet."

"Well Jaune," Ruby placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find your way. My mom says that college is a realm of possibilities and we're starting so you'll have all the time in the world to figure it out."

Something sparked in Jaune's eye that Ruby didn't understand. "Thanks Ruby, I really needed that."

"Hmhm." Ruby looked around and stopped. "Hey, where are we going?"

"Oh, I don't know! I was following you." Jaune's eyes widen in fear. "Y-You think there might be a directory? Maybe a food court? Some kind of recognizable landmark? Is, uh... Is that a 'no'?"

Ruby clutched her head in despair. "OH NO WE'RE GONNA BE LAAATTEEEEEE!"

She grabbed Jaune's arm and they took off as fast as they could.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease PLEASE be close!"

"H-hey I almost dropped my-"

The two saw Yang hanging right outside the door.

"Ruby! Over here!" Yang waved at the two. "Wait why are you hanging out with Vomit Boy?"

"Oh Yang thank God!" Ruby breathed in and out, stopping to catch her breath. "So this is Jaune, he's a friend- I think we're friends- are we friends Jaune? Anyway we're not too late are we?"

"Nah you made it a bit early actually." Yang said. "I guess you can come if you want, eh, Jaune is it?"

If Ruby looked no worse for wear, Jaune was clearly exhausted. He barely let out breaths before he took notice of Yang.

"Yup, that's my name! Jaune Arc," Jaune said. "Rolls off the tongue, ladies love it!"

Yang rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they do. Let's sit down."

The three went up a few steps and took seats. Jaune sat next to Yang, who sat next to Ruby. The trio noticed that the auditorium was large, potentially fitting over hundreds of students in one place. In the center stood a stage. The teachers sat next to each other while in front of them was the podium. The headmaster was supposed to make a speech, but she hasn't made an appearance yet.

"How's your first day going, little sister?" Yang asked.

"You mean since you ditched me and I made a joke out of myself?"

"Yikes! Meltdown already?"

"No, it's just that earlier after you left I started walking but then I tripped over a crabby girl's luggage, only this crabby girl was actually WEISS SCHNEE the Model of the Year winner and then she yelled at me, and I felt really, really bad, but when I said sorry she just kept yelling at me and I just wanted her to stop yelling at me so I was gonna say something but then this really cool and pretty girl shows up an-!

"You!"

Ruby jumped in fear, almost fleeing into her sister's arms. "Oh no it's her!"

Weiss scowled at the two of them. "You're lucky I decided not to have my team of lawyers come down on your throat and sue your sorry butt into oblivion!"

Yang whistled. "Wow she really is crabby."

"Look Weiss, it was an accident I swear!” Ruby moved away from her sister and clasped her hands together. "I promise I won't get in your way okay?"

Weiss said nothing. "As long as you stop talking to me I don't care."

"Look, uh, it sounds like you two just got off on the wrong foot." Yang said. "Why don't you start over and try to be friends, okay?

"Yeah! Great idea, sis!" Ruby said. She turned to Weiss. "Hello, Weiss! I'm Ruby! Wanna hang out? We can go shopping for school supplies!

Weiss turned to her, enthusiastic. "Yeah! And we can paint our nails and try on clothes and talk about cute boys, like tall, blond, and scraggly over there!"

"I'm cute?" Jaune asked, hopeful.

"Wow, really? I mean I don't talk much about boys but-"

"No." Weiss said. She turned back to the stage. "The headmistress is here, so quiet yourself."

All of the students' attention are drawn to the stage. A blond woman wearing a white dress that with violet shadings here and there walked up to the podium. She adjusted the microphone.

"Testing testing… ahem, hello everyone. I am Headmistress Salem, pleasure to meet you all. Now I'm sure you're all eager to get to your dorms and unpack so I'll try to keep this brief. Pinky promise!"

Some of the students laughed which made Salem chuckle.

"Haha, thanks for that. Now, you have all traveled far today. You came in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you are done you plan to dedicate your life to whatever you decide to pursuit. Each of you possess knowledge and passion that have gotten you this far, and the potential to do more. But those are only the first steps. Make no mistake, Beacon will not go easy on any of you. The toughest challenges lie ahead. You may start out rough, stumble around in the middle stretch, but I have the highest confidence that by the end you will come out of this university having improved tremendously and the ability to go beyond expectations. Everyone… Welcome!"

Salem waved everyone off.

"Alright now take the cookies from the tray and uh… eat! Phew, that was easy."

The students dispersed. Ruby took note of one teacher- Glynda Goodwitch she recognized- going up to Salem and arguing with her on something, but Salem continued smiling at her.

"She seems nice." Yang said. "Reminds me of a kindergarten teacher."

"That's how she is." Ruby responded. "She's a nice person, Yang."

Yang corked an eyebrow. "Oh you know her?"

"Yeah, she was the one who invited me to Beacon in the first place."

Ruby and Yang got their ID Cards from a nearby table and parted off their dorms.

Off to the side, Jaune was trying to talk to Weiss.

"I'm a natural blond, you know!" Jaune wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm totally cute enough!"

Weiss placed a hand to her face in exasperation. "Please just go away."

With that she stormed off, never to be seen again. Jaune raised a hand towards her.

"Hey, wait!" Jaune yelled out. However, he knew a lost cause when he saw it. He sighed. "Ah, great. And Ruby's gone too. Where am I supposed to find another nice, quirky girl to talk to?!"

He walked off, unaware of a red haired woman staring at him with hands on her hips. Her green eyes narrow in mischievous intent.

_______________________________________________________________________

Ruby let out a sigh as she stood in front of her dorm.

'The first day of the rest of my life.' Ruby thought. 'Okay here we go…'

She swiped the ID card through the handle, and opened the door.

It was a hallway that connected to two rooms. Ruby was thankful that at least she'd have her own room to hang around in. She wasn't sure if she could deal with three roommates that'd snore or bring people over or play loud music or-

"Well let's not get ahead of ourselves here." Ruby started unpacking her bag. "I'll just set everything up and get supplies afterwards. Maybe even get some cookies! Yummy."

As she placed her notebooks on the table, Ruby thought back to when she was first accepted into Beacon.

_______________________________________________________________________

"You wanted to see me ma'am?"

Ruby closed the door behind her, sitting down to face the one who called her.

"Ruby Rose. Age 16. Class President." Salem said, flipping through the papers. "You've been involved in several school projects designing banners, arranging class activities, setting up parties, etc. By all accounts, you are a remarkable girl."

"Um… thank you." Ruby said, blushing at the kind words.

"At ease, Ruby, you are not being judged here." Salem waved her off. "Instead, I am extending you an… opportunity."

Ruby blinked. "What do you mean?"

Salem placed the papers on the desk, and stared Ruby directly in the eyes.

"Tell me, Ruby… what is it that you want out of life?"

The question threw Ruby off. She questioned whether this was some sort of test or not. If she said something wrong would she be thrown out of a window? Wait no that's murder. Thrown out of Signal? Yeah that made more sense.

"I… I want to become a fashion designer." Ruby said finally. "I want to make dresses and bring smiles to people."

This seemed to please Salem. She smiled at the girl.

"Very well. My name is Salem. I'd like to extend to you an invitation to Beacon University. I hope you survive the experience!"

_______________________________________________________________________

"She gave me a chance… to start over." Ruby said. "I won't let her down."

She proudly surveyed her room. Posters of rock bands and fashion models, neatly stacked books, a prepared bed and a fantastic work bench for her creativity to flow. Neat and tidy aren't how she usually operates, but when you're trying to come up with ideas for fashion designs it's best to keep things simple in case one day she gets an idea and just has to jot it down.

"Looks like everything's out! Nothing could possibly ruin this."

The door opened, and Ruby felt a chill down her spine.

She turned around to find Weiss Schnee at the doorstep, carrying the stacks of luggage she had knocked over before. The two regarded each other, neither aware of how long they stood there, before Weiss grabbed the door handle.

"No. I am not going to room with you." Weiss simply stated. "I will correct this mistake with the headmaster."

With that she slammed the door shut.

"Figures," Ruby said, placing the hood from her jacket over her head. "Should have kept my mouth shut."

_______________________________________________________________________

The store where they kept the school supplies was luckily only a few blocks away.

Having spent her whole life in Patch, Ruby could only stare in awe of the city she was in. Lots of places to be, stores to shop and a lot of people up and excited. The falling sun contrasted with the lights slowly popping up everywhere. If nothing else, Ruby knew she was gonna like it here.

Opening the door to the shop, Ruby waved hi at the person in the cash register, an old man who smiled and waved back at her. Luckily there weren't too many people in the store, otherwise Ruby would have had to claw and fight her way around.

"Okay the things I need should be…"

Ruby found them on Aisle 3.

"A ruler for composition, I already have pens and pencils to write notes down but could use more, several notebooks for the end of the year, a pen drive haha of course I need one of those what if there's a project to do!"

At this moment, Ruby forgot that she had a tendency to bite off more than she could chew. In that instance, she forgot that her small noodle arms are not enough to hold a huge stack all together.

"Whoaaaah!" Ruby steadied herself carefully. "Okay okay calm down it's gonna be fine. You can take this to the register and no one's gonna get hurt. Except me. Hopefully not me. I don't wanna pay for breaking anything."

As she almost stumbled over to the register, Ruby saw a tall ginger man in front of the old man at the register. The old man smiled.

"Why hey there sonny what can I do for you?" The old man said to the customer in front of him.

"Well you see, um," the ginger man held a gun in his hand. "I kind of need help with getting all of the money inside this bag. if it's not something that bothers you that is."

"Ah… ah, please don't hurt anyone." The old man sweated. He opened up the "Here, take it! Please leave!"

"Pleasure doing business with you good sir." The ginger man smirked at him, opening up his own bag and pushing the money inside of it.

Ruby stared at all of that. She wanted to move to stop him but… he had a gun. He could shoot her or shoot the old man and then nothing could get done. It was too dangerous to try anything.

The ginger man fastened the tie on his bag before opening the door. For a second, he glanced at Ruby with a frightful glare.

"You didn't see anything kid. Call the cops and I'll find out who you are and kill you."

With those words, he slammed the door shut.

"Thank God he left," the old man said. "Everything seems to be getting worse and nobody's stopping it."

Ruby didn't say anything.

After spending money on her materials, she left the store and turned left.

The reality of the situation startled her. Not even her first day at Beacon and Ruby was at the scene of a crime? She could have died! This truly was the worst day of her life.

Still, Ruby couldn't help but beat herself up over letting that guy go. Even if logically she knew that jumping the guy could have resulted in someone getting shot, Ruby wished that there was something she could have done. It made her so upset.

'If only I had some kind of weapon… like a gun... or a scythe... hmmm a scythe gun… yeah, that would be so cool.'

Either a gun scythe or some clever plan to take that guy out. As it is, there was nothing she could have done. And that made her mad.

Ruby continued walking, before she spotted something from the corner of her eye.

'That old lady is… waitwaitwait WAIT!'

She immediately dropped her bags, rushing forward. An older woman was about to cross the street with a speeding car about to run her over. so her body moved without thinking. Ruby grabbed the older woman by the arms and pulled her away from her deadly fate as the car continued moving.

"Watch where you're going you hag!" yelled out the driver before he sped away from the scene.

"You could have stopped at any time! Jerk!" Ruby blew a raspberry, before turning to the old woman she had just saved.

"Such a rude man that one." said the elder, a short woman with tan skinned and sunglasses, hair tied in buns. "Not like you dearie. Thanks so much for helping me not be roadkill today."

Ruby laughed, "Ha ha, that's just what anyone would do! Just make sure to look both directions next time."

"I wish I could but," The old lady pulled her sunglasses away, revealing peculiar grey eyes. "I don't see the point, you know?"

"Oh… oh you're blind! Wait ohmygosh I'm so sorry I don't mean to be so insensitive!" Ruby flailed her arms around before a cane stabbed at her stomach.

"Now don't give me that. My name is Maria Calavera." The old woman smiled. "I must repay you for saving my life!"

"No no you don't have to it was nothing rea-" Ruby could not say more because she felt something reach her hands.

"This is a box I found the other day. An antique" Maria said. "I want you to keep it with you okay?"

Ruby, not wanting to embarrass herself any further, nodded fiercely. "Yes, yes! I'll cherish it forever and won't let it out of my sight!"

Maria laughed. "That's good! You're a very sweet girl. You deserve the world, I tells ya! Have a lovely evening!"

"Thanks you too!"

With that, Ruby placed the box inside of her bag and ran off.

_______________________________________________________________________

Weiss was thankfully not in the room by the time she arrived.

Based on the fact that her luggage remained in the hall unpacked, Ruby figured that she was still arguing with Salem over her room arrangements. She might show up at any time.

Ruby shrugged her shoulders, deciding she'll just have to get used to her. No way she was gonna throw her chance away because of a crabby girl she only knew for a few minutes.

"Time to see what's inside this box." Ruby said to no one in particular.

She moved the bags on top of the bed, while gazing at the box. The box itself was a peculiar thing. It was utterly black, but neatly crafted and cared for. The top of the box had a symbol that Ruby didn't recognize. It looked Chinese but she didn't want to make any racist assumptions there.

With no other recourse, she opened the box.

Inside were a pair of shiny red and black earrings. The while thing was red but covered in black spots that made it resembles those of a ladybug.

"They're so pretty!" Ruby grinned, wide eyed. "I better put these on!"

And so she did, placing them carefully on her ears.

"I can't wait to show these off to Yang! She's totally gonna freak when I walk around in these babies."

"I'm sure she will! You're so pretty!"

Ruby blinked. She wasn't sure her brain caught up with her ears.

Slowly, she turned around. A bright, glowing red creature with black spots floated next to her. The creature smiled at her.

"Hi!"

Ruby screamed.

"Oh my god what the heck are you please don't hurt me please don't hurt me what the fuck what the-"

"Ruby please calm down! I'm a friend!"

Ruby shook her head. "Nuh uh, I must be crazy. Yes, maybe that robber shot me and I'm dead!"

The creature raised an eyebrow. "If you were dead wouldn't you want to be somewhere that isn't school?"

This made the younger girl stop. She clutched her head as she sat on the floor. "Oh God you're right."

"Okaaaaay so maybe I handled this all wrong."

"NOOOOO really?" Ruby almost yelled, but she breathed in and out. "Sorry… sorry it's just um… who are you- WHAT are you?"

"Oh that I can answer!" The little creature did a dance, making breezy movements in the air. "I am Tikki, the Kwami of Creation and Good Luck! You received the Ladybug Miraculous, a pair of earrings worn across generations of powerful and extraordinary heroes! Since my master gave you the earrings, that must mean that you're meant to be a new hero!"

Ruby let out a tiny laugh. "Me? A hero? I mean, not that I don't like the idea but I'm not at all what you're looking for. You're looking for a brave and inspiring person and I'm… I'm just me. No one special."

"But you are special!" Tikki floated in front of Ruby's face, still smiling. "You dropped everything and rushed just in time to save my master's life. That proves that somewhere inside of you is a heart of a hero."

"Anyone could have done that," Ruby smiled sadly, "If I was brave I would have stopped that robber at the store."

"I don't think you could have done much in that situation Ruby," Tikki said. "You exercised caution and didn't act rashly in a way that got people hurt. You are very smart."

The two sat in silence for a bit. Tikki floated, unsure of what was going on Ruby's head as she kept changing expressions.

"Okay then… assuming this isn't a dream or something," Ruby finally said. "What can you do?"

"Oh!" Tikki smiled again. "There are so many things I can do, given I'm a Kwami of Creation. However, I only manage to exist in this plane of existence because my physical body is tied to the earrings you're using right now. If you say a certain phrase, I merge with you and grant you some of my abilities."

"So I become a magical girl?"

"Yes yes!"

"Wow… wait, you said you were a Kwami? What is that?"

"Kwamis… well, we're basically beings of thoughts and expressions. I am the Kwami of Creation, so I have the ability to create! There's others like me out there, with their own powers and things they represent. For example, my counterpart is Plagg, the Kwami of Destruction. Don't hang around him, he's a huge troublemaker!"

"I can imagine…" Ruby said. "Why do you need to be tied to an object?"

"Because we're beings of thought, we exist outside of the boundaries of linear time and space. We need to be tied to specific objects so we can appear in your reality."

"Wow, you guys must be so old!"

Tikki's eyes bulged in fear.

"Heh heh, yeah…" Tikki nervously chuckled. "uh, do you have any other questions?"

"Your master… she's the old lady from before? Maria right?"

"That's right! She's one of the many Guardians of the Miraculouses!"

"Right…" Ruby got up from the floor. "So I have to find her to return you."

"What?! But Ruby-"

"You're very nice and all Tikki but I just started University.' Ruby said. "I don't want to get into any trouble and there are so many options out here than just me. I'm gonna find Maria and return you to her!"

"Wait! How about this? Use me once. I'll tell you the words, you turn into the ladybug champion and try it out. If you decide it's not cut out for you, then you can return me. Is that okay?"

"I don't know…"

"Please Ruby. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're a good person who'd make a great hero. Just trust me."

Ruby placed fingers on her chin.

"Hmmm… okay. We'll give it a try." Ruby pointed at Tikki. "But if i don't like it then I'm returning you, no questions asked!"

"It's a done deal Ruby!"

Tikki descended to Ruby's eye level. The two of them shook hands, a partnership established. Just then the door opened.

"Oh no Weiss! It's not what you think you're totally fantasizing!"

"Impossible," Weiss said, "my fantasy would have you out of this dorm and outside of my life."

"Wait you don't see-"

Ruby looked up and found that Tikki had disappeared. She felt a pressure coming from her earrings, which answered where she went.

"Oh… eh, heheh!" Ruby chuckled forcibly. "So how did it go with the Headmaster? Are you gonna be moving out… hopefully…?

Weiss slammed the door shut.

"According to the Headmaster all the dorms are full and there will be no others open for months. Which means I'm going to be stuck with you."

"Oh… that's too bad-" Ruby course corrected. "i mean for you I imagine! Haha being stuck with silly old me!"

"Riiight…" Weiss rolled her eyes. "So I'm going to lay down some ground rules. No annoying babbling, don't talk to me, I am not your friend and will most never barge into my room for any reason. We will leave each other alone and that's it. Understood?"

"Hmhm, yeah yeah."

Ruby moved away from Weiss and onto the door.

"Where are you going?" Weiss asked.

"Well, uh," Ruby smiled. "I have some errands to run! Gotta see how Yang's doing and all haha! Bye!"

Quickly, she opened the door and shut it. Weiss only let out a sigh.

"That dolt is going to be the death of me."

_______________________________________________________________________

Alright, so she was going through with the crazy idea of being a magical girl.

Okay. Fine.

Before any of that though, Ruby decided to check up on Yang and see how she was doing. Yang texted the room number which apparently wasn't too far off from Ruby's. Down the hall, take a right.

Ruby went on her tip toes and gently knocked the door. It opened to reveal Yang, who had already taken a shower and switched to her pajamas.

"Ruby! Come in, I gotta show you my roommate's!"

She grabbed Ruby by the arm and dragged her over.

"Yaaaaaang!" Ruby whined. "Let go!"

Yang laughed. "Sorry it's just exciting to be here isn't it?"

"I guess," Ruby broke away from Yang's hold. "It's a bit weird not knowing anyone."

"What about Jaune? He's…" Yang scratched the back of her head, "Nice! There you go! Plus one friend! That's a hundred percent increase!"

"Hmmm… I guess that's true." If Ruby counted Tikki that would be two friends. If, since she wasn't sure how it was gonna go down. "Still, making an enemy out of Weiss Schnee is pretty bad. Worst part is, we're gonna be roommates Yang!"

"Really? Bummer that sucks," Yang said. "How about changing rooms?"

"She tried to but she said that the dorms are full and there won't be any available space for months. I have to live with her Yang!"

"Shit that's bad…" Yang said. "At least you're gonna get more than a few rods out of her! My roomie's been pretty quiet. I tried talking to her but she just wouldn't budge."

"That's probably because you infected your personality her." Ruby smirked. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"Ah ah! Watch it Ruby, or I'll give you a noogie!"

Ruby laughed. For a few moments, she looked at Yang, and considered possibilities. Ruby Rose was just a normal girl, but Yang was incredible. Big, caring and strong. She's nothing less than extraordinary in Ruby's eyes. Maybe she should give the earrings to her? Yeah, Vale could have a Ladybug hero who fit the job description, instead of silly little Ruby. Maybe.

Yang showed her to the beds. Ruby could tell the one on the right was Yang's thanks to the messy state it was it was in, with a couple of beer cans already thrown over the floor and sheets spread. The left side had books stacked to the side and not much else to it. Sitting on the bed was someone Ruby remembered.

"Hey… you're that girl…"

Yang raised an eyebrow. "You know her?"

The girl looked up from the book. This girl had changed to her own pajamas, a black and violet yukata. Ruby could noticed one of her hands there was a black ring.

She regarded Ruby closely, her eyes narrowed. "You're that girl that knocked over Weiss' luggage?"

"Uh, yeah! My name's Ruby! But you can just call me... um…" She blushed a little and smiled. "Actually, you can just call me Ruby. I wanna say thank you for saving me earlier today, I don't know if I could stand being yelled at by Weiss all day."

"Oh." The girl nodded. "Don't thank me. It's always a pleasure to rattle a Schnee."

She went back to reading her book, ignoring the two in front of her. Ruby wasn't sure what to do, and Yang's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Rolling her eyes, the elder sibling decided to step up. So she went in front of Ruby and cleared her throat."

"So... What's your name?"

The girl only gave an irritated sigh. "Blake."

"Well, Blake, I'm Yang, Ruby's older sister! I like your bow!"

"Thanks."

"It goes great with your... pajamas!"

"Right…"

"Nice night, don't you think?"

"Yes, it's lovely! Almost as lovely as this book!" Blake turned to the pages of her book. "That I will continue to read."

"Yeah, this girl's a lost cause." Yang turned to Ruby, clearly annoyed. "Anything you wanna tell me about your day or-"

Ruby stepped in front of her sister. This time she pointed at the book Blake was reading.

"What's it about?"

Blake looked up. "Huh?"

"Your book. What's it about?"

"Well…" Blake trailed off, seemingly confused by Ruby. No matter. it was just a question. "It's about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body."

"That's really cool." Ruby said. "I love books. Yang used to read to me every night before bed. Stories of princesses, monsters, and the heroes who saved the day… They've been a major inspiration in my life even after I decided I want to be a fashion designer."

Blake laughed a little. She was a touch amused by the girl in front of her. "And why is that? Hoping you'll live happily ever after?

"Well, I'm hoping we all will." Ruby said. "As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books... Someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn't protect themselves!"

"That's... very ambitious." For the first time Ruby could see Blake form a tiny smile. It disappeared quickly, turning into a frown. "Unfortunately, the real world isn't the same as a fairy tale."

"I know that… but it's not hopelessly bleak either." Ruby said, firmer than before. "We're all here for a reason, even if we don't know it yet. The world can be a better place so long as we're kind and help each other out. That's what really matters I think."

Immediately Ruby felt herself being dragged up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

"Oh, I am so proud of my baby sister!" Yang yells while hugging her precious Ruby.

"Cut it out!" Ruby playfully punched Yang. "Yaaaaannng you're embarrassing me in front of her!"

For the first time, the sisters heard a soft laughter. Blake had placed the book down, staring at the two while having a slight blush. She raised a hand up.

"Well, Ruby, Yang, it's a pleasure to have you."

Ruby reached out and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you too."

_______________________________________________________________________

The roof of the dorms. Everything changed in this one spot.

Carefully closing the door behind her, Ruby took a glance at Tikki, who did her cute little dance across ways from her. The girl sighed.

"How does it go again?" Ruby asked the tiny creature.

"What happens is," Tikki responds. "You say a command phrase, 'Spots on!", and I fuse with you to become the Ladybug Champion!"

"Right… how does the fusion work exactly?"

Tikki stopped her dance, waving her arms in front of Ruby.

"Well you're you. You're the one in charge. You just gain some new powers too. You have a yoyo that acts as your weapon. You can summon an object that will be instrumental in defeating an enemy. You can alter probability to suit your favor."

"Wait… a yoyo?" Ruby's eyes bulged in shock as she yelled. "Why a yoyo instead of something cool like… I dunno, a scythe gun? That would be way better."

"Well Ruby" Tikki explained. "The yoyo has many uses in the battlefield. With creativity and imagination, Ladybug wielders make do with what they have and use it to their best advantage. A scythe gun, in addition to a rule instated later that Miraculous users can't kill, is an impractical weapon for a crowded city where hundreds of people could be watching you and dangerous since a ricochet can kill someone if you're nor careful. No amount of luck will save every person if you use it."

Ruby backed away slightly. "Okay okay, that makes sense. Right…"

She brushed herself off, breathing in and out as she mentally prepared for the task ahead.

"Okay then… Tikki, SPOTS ON!"

Tikki disappeared from Ruby's line of sight, turning into a bright red beam of light that swirled around her body…

She felt was a nest of insects crawling up her feet.

Everywhere she felt cloth there were things that spread and made herself disappear. First came her shoes, to which her feet felt the ground upon her toes. They continued up her legs, her shirt, her hoodie jacket, the bugs eating away at the material objects that Ruby Rose tethered to the real world. She feared herself when the bugs came to her face.

"Stop it! Stop it…. wait…"

The moment of terror was replaced by a relief she had not felt in ages. She stared at her own hands, no longer seeing the slightest bit of human skin. Instead they were wrapped in a red ultra thin fabric that felt as though it was second skin. She no longer felt her clothes but instead a sense of self she had never known.

"I feel… miraculous…"

Ruby Rose was no more.

With a toothy grin she hadn't had since she came here, Ladybug threw her yoyo out to the sky. It found a pole to cling on, and she took off without haste.

_______________________________________________________________________

"Oh God… THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!"

Here she was! At last, Ruby Rose, lame first year college student, flew through the air on her yoyo as if she was Spider-Man! Or Spider-Girl. Or Spider-Woman. Or none of them since ladybugs are not arachnids. Probably.

Whatever, swinging through the air felt marvelous. She could feel the winds blow through her, the sounds of crowds below her, shouting and yelling things her ears did not pick up.

Insults? Praise? Who really cares! The night belonged to Ladybug, and no one else.

"WooooooooHOOOOOOOO!"

She couldn't smiling as she yelled. When she found a building too tall to swing through, Ladybug landed on the side of it and began a vertical runn. Ruby remembered the days at Signal where she participated in track. She always came up with high grades there, much to everyone else's annoyance. No one would expect the little rose to be running up buildings and later the rooftops.

Like Spider-Girl. But cooler.

From there Ladybug jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Luck truly was on her side. She was glad that at no point did she not fall down in a clumsy fit or an accident. She was in control all along.

The strangest thing for the girl wasn't the new found confidence in herself she didn't possess before. It wasn't the fact that she didn't tire from running, or the fact that she had greater dexterity using the yoyo to swing across. It was magic, they probably helped her out.

No, the truly strange thing was that none of these things contradicted who she was at the core. All these feelings, these emotions, they came from a place she kept locked away but now embraced with glee. Perhaps this is the true power of the Ladybug Miraculous. The ability to reveal the true self, and set it free.

She stopped right in front of a platform. Her eyes darted to the left.

"Please Roman, no… somebody help!"

"Shut it or I'll kill you, you little bastard. Call it my special brand of mercy."

Her enhanced hearing-no doubt more of the miraculous' power- picked those up right away. Ladybug recognized the voices and knew exactly what she had to do.

With that, she dropped right into an alleyway, forcing the pair to look at her.

"What the- some kind of cosplayer?!"

"Get away from here he's got a gun!"

The robber from before-Roman she recalled- was holding Jaune Arc hostage with his gun. Roman had Jaune's head caught in his shoulder as he pointed the gun at Ladybug.

Jaune, one of Ruby and Ladybug's new friends, could very well die if she made a single slip up.

She won't allow that possibility to happen.

"If you're going shoot at someone, shoot me." Ruby said, in a moment of anger. "If you've got the guts for it."

Roman darkly chuckled. "Guts? I've shot two-bit cosplayers before, the cops won't mind seeing another one in the morgue."

In an instant he lined up a shot to kill Ladybug. No remorse, no hint of emotion. Just the cold blooded murder of a teenage girl as the boy next to him begged and cried.

Or not.

He pressed the handle and nothing came out.

"What? Jammed?!" Roman yelled, shocked at the outcome. "Impossible I had this thing-"

The hand that carried his gun suddenly found itself wrapped in a tight rope. Roman suddenly found himself pulled from his position onto the air.

"You're not gonna get me you damn- UGH!"

Roman could not say more, as Ladybug clocked his face in. He fell to the ground, consciousness lost in the small struggle.

With the danger gone, Ladybug turned her eyesight from the robber to Jaune.

His face belied a string of conflicting emotions: bewilderment, shock, amazement at the event that just transpired.

"Th-thanks!" He let out finally. "I didn't think anyone was gonna save me."

She couldn't help but smirk at the hapless teen. Ladybug saluted him.

"My pleasure. You're lucky I happened to be in the area at the right time. Next time try to keep off the bad side of town."

"I think I'll, uh, do that." Jaune asked. He shook his head. "Sorry I mean no offense really, thank you for saving my life but- who are you and where the heck did you come from?!"

"Sorry. Can't exactly answer that. Girl's gotta keep he secrets after all." The hero struck a pose. "Just call me Ladybug. I'm here to help."

With that Ladybug jumped up into the air, leaving Jaune alone with a knocked out crook.

A safe distance away from the alley, Ruby had detransformed. Tikki appeared in front of her, watching the girl jump up and down so excitedly.

"OHMYGOSH Tikki that was so AWESOME!"

"You see Ruby?" Tikki said. "You really can do it!"

"I could! I could…" Ruby trailed off. She stared at the moon in the sky, smiling at the way it shined tonight on this city. On her.

"So what are you gonna do now?" Tikki asked. "Still want to return me to Maria?"

"Well… I'm still not sure if I'm cut out to be a hero…" Ruby said. "But I'm willing go stick with it for now. I'm sure I'll come across her sooner or later."

"Yes yes!" Tikki flew right into the girl's face, using her tiny arms to hug her. "You're gonna go far Ruby!"

"Not without you Tikki…" Ruby hugged her new friend. "Not without you."

_______________________________________________________________________

As breakfast time came, Ruby Rose skipped just a bit.

Since last night's adventure she had been feeling great. The exhilaration that came with being Ladybug placed her on cloud nine. Ruby almost didn't hear her name being called out in the crowd.

"Ruby!" Yang waved at her from the table she was sitting, Blake reading at book next to her. "Come sit with us and look at the TV!"

"Coming!" Ruby yelled. Ruby took her seat next to her and Blake. "What's happening?"

"Just watch Rubes, you're not gonna believe this," Yang said.

The younger sister rolled her eyes, only to be shocked at what the TV displayed. It was herself on the screen! Or rather, her Ladybug self. She wore a skintight red suit with black spots and a similar colored domino mask.

'That's such a BORING costume!' Ruby thought in her head. 'It doesn't even have a cape! No way I'm gonna keep wearing that thing. I'm redesigning it after I eat.'

"This is Lisa Lavender from VNN," The lady on the screen said. "Vale seems to have a costumed daredevil on the block. No one knows who she is and where she came from, except for an anonymous tip that identified the girl as Ladybug."

"Holy shit Yang!" Ruby pretended to be surprised. "It's a superhero!"

"A real live one!" Yang looked at Blake. "C'mon aren't you the least bit excited?!"

Blake narrowed her eyes in concentration towards the screen. There seemed to be a manner of recognition in her eyes. "I… I'll wait on her before I say anything."

Almost as soon as she said that, Jaune burst onto the table and slammed his hands near Ruby. "Thank God, guys, you're not gonna believe what happened last night!"

Yang cringed at his presence. "Ew who let Vomit Boy near us?"

"Yaaang!" Ruby pouted. "He's a friend."

"Listen, I was mugged on the street by some weirdo when this girl in a costume showed up and saved my life!"

"You mean that?" Yang pointed at the TV.

Jaune looked up. "Yeah her! She's Ladybug! I hope I didn't embarrass myself too much around her, she was so cool…"

"What seems to be the commotion around her?"

The students turned their heads to find Headmaster Salem staring at them. Yang waved her off.

"Aw nothing Salem," Yang said. "We're talking about Ladybug. See over there?"

Everyone turned towards the TV. They were all so focused on the screen, no one noticed the way Salem's face hardened at the sight of the superhero.

"I see…" Salem said carefully. "We live in very interesting times indeed…"

"I'll say," Ruby said while gently rubbing her earrings. "Maybe things will be better this year… I just gotta keep at it!"

#rubybug and cat blake #rwby ladybug #Ruby Rose #Blake Belladonna #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #salem #tikki #jaune arc #roman torchwick #fic #crossover #rwby #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #My Writing

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sigilscriber · 4 years ago

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You’re a Witch??? Rant ahead

Today, like so often, I got that same reaction when I told someone at work I was a practitioner. As always the sterio-typical “But witches are women” was the first thing that crossed their mind. But it often goes beyond that when it comes to me.

I am also tagged with “Where is all your crystals and pendants?” “I thought they only where black?” “Where are your robes?” “Where are your rustic renaissance clothes?” “Where are you goth clothes?” “What is you wand?” “What school can I apply to?” “Is there really a sorting hat of sorts.” “Where is your familiar?” “Do you know Alyssa Milano?” “You must have thousands of books” “My bosses best friends daughter is Wiccan?” “Aren’t you actually a Wizard?” “Can I see your book of spells?” “Ooooooooooh My daughter soooo loves Sabrina.” “My ancestors lived in Salem during the trials” DEEP SIGH!

Thanks Hollywood,

I guess we went from being classed as being green and ugly to being new age- sparkly-hippies, battling monsters and bad witches. No change. Still mis-represented. If even more so.

On average I am just your average college guy. No robes or outrageous garb, no crystals or rings, no piercings. Not even a tattoo. Okay I DO have one heptagram pendant that I wear under my shirt (Just like a Christian or Jew.) And yes I admit I do have a small collection of mortar and pestels and herbs. I just happen to like the shapes and makes of different mortars. I do have a wand but it stays in the draw of my altar. I am not bashing people that do where and have all that gear, clothes and stuff. To each their own. I’m not into hats at all, not into robes and ren shirts. I do not even have a car slathered with tons of witch stickers. I do not need that stuff. Yes, I do have a special pair of jeans and T shirt I like to wear for certain ceremonial works. But even the shirt is just a plain blue t-shirt. Nothing on it. I mean if you saw me crafting, I would look like a pain ordinary guy. I do not have a book of spells of Shadows. I do however have a prayer book I made. I use to have tons of books, but realized it was all the same wiccan stuff being written over and over and over and over and over and over. I ditched them all.

And this whole idea that because I am a witch, people think the only way they can relate to me is bringing up something like “Oh I know someone who sells crystals in Australia” or “Do you know Rowling?” Point of fact. not only do I NOT know her but I LOATH her. She is the cause of my bitterness.

There are days when people pull this on me I feel like asking “Oh you are Christian? Can I see your bible? Do you know Archbishop Wenski? Why are you not wearing a head covering? Yeah I had a Christian relative that was mauled by lions in Roman. Of course I won’t but there are days....

Its bad enough that they continue to make shows and movies that makes ANYONE that’s remotely new age or a witch like they are some comical nerd, dim-witted or clutz. There are times I would love to see a show were the family is Pagan or witches and look and act as normal as anyone else or even well-off, but its the Christian/Jewish neighbors that are made to look like the “freaks”. And seriously, if I ever met Rowling or the creators of Salem, Charmed or Sabrina I would probably bash their heads in with the closest thing I could grab. And you seriously do not want to know what I would do to the asp-hole creators of Supernatural and all those Ghost Hunter shows.

They think its cute to play around and make TV series and movies out of peoples seriously dedicated arts and lives. Let see them make a “Magickal/MIracle” movie about a church of Christians VS Jews. Have them casting “miracles” like parting water, multiplying food, turning furniture into animals. burning flora and water into blood. Lets have a movie where kids go to a different monasteries and learn to make holy water and oils, learn prayers to battle other monasteries. They can be based off of the 4 arch angels and can be chose by an animated rabbi hat. The headmaster can be Noah. And they can get helper cherubs. And it all can take place in the Garden of Eden that they reach by a golden elevator shaped like an arc. Oh and there will be giants, unicorns, fauns, phoenixes, talking snakes and dragons (Because all of these creatures are mentioned in the bible as real) Yeah and the Jews and Christians can turn each other to pillars of salt. And hey, lets have prayer beads and rosaries bestow special powers like strength and invisibility. I mean why not????

Lets have a Show where the family is Pagan/Witches living in a nice house in Suburbia, dad is an executive and mom is a teacher. No special effects, no house with tons of “supposed “ withy stuff is strewn everywhere. No mention of them being pagan or a witch. Maybe just one small pentacle or sacred symbol on the far wall. Now and then at dinner they will have a meal blessing. Have the friend/neighbor be some half wit blonde Christian with huge hair that’s like “Oh I have a rosary for that” any time a problem pops up and works in a Christian book store.

In short: No. Not ALL witches wear tie-die shirts with pentacles on it, Not all witches where tons of rings and pendants. Not all look like some uber goth chick or stoner hippy. Not all have arms emblazed with tattoos. Not all have spell books. Not all live in Victorian/Georgian manors with herbs and glass baubles everywhere. There is no wrinkled elves, Hogwarts or invisibles trains. Some of us wear suits or gym clothes, live in Levitown houses and 40 floor apartments and do not have a single tattoo or crystal. We do not go to special invisible schools nor battle evil witches and monsters with wands. The only robe we wear are bathrobes and the only hat we wear is a hoodie or driving cap.

#witch #rant #harry potter #the craft #charmed #sabrina #supernatural #ghost hunters #christian #jew

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master-sass-blast · 6 years ago

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Meeting the Rasputins

HOLY. FUCK. IT’S DONE.

This is 19.6k words long. It was SIXTY-ONE FUCKING PAGES in Word before I switched everything to Tumblr formatting.

I want an award. I deserve it.

Summary: You finally meet Piotr’s family face-to-face. And, because nothing in your life is simple (and because I’m the author), you wind up with a head injury that provides a lot of much needed answers.

[Set after ‘Silent Scream.’]

Rating: T for sibling rivalries/issues, depictions of child abuse, head injuries, angst, angst, and more angst.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Frank Castle x Karen Page.

Much love and thanks to @leo-writer for proof-reading this monster!

@marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @rovvboat

You like to think that, in your relatively short time on this not-as-green-as-it-ought-to-be Earth, you’ve handled more than your fair share of shit and come out fine. You were raised by abusive parents, grew up in a community that persecuted and tormented you, were hunted by men with rifles, and have had to deal with Wade Wilson on cocaine withdrawals. You’ve looked death in the eye and walked away –relatively—unscathed. You are a grown-ass adult who can handle their own shit, thank you very much.

So, why is it, darling universe that lives to smite me and watch me suffer for no good reason, you think, a touch angry, as you pace the hallway you’re most definitely not hiding in, that I can’t handle meeting a new group of people that I already know doesn’t hate me.

It’s officially time to meet Piotr’s family. Yes, yes, you’ve met them over phone and Skype calls, but now they’re coming here. To the mansion. For a week. To get to know you and visit Piotr.

And you already know that they like you just fine.

But, the little negative troll voice in your head replies, what if they meet you in person and realize just how much of a garbage heap you are, and they decide they don’t want you anywhere near their perfectly functional, not fucked up son?

Touché, you think back, convinced despite yourself.

Before you can delve too much further down that rabbit hole, Nathan walks into the hall from the flight of stairs leading up from the ground floor and grabs you by the arm, thus preventing you from walking a rut into the carpet. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” you grumble. “You’re not meeting the parents and siblings.”

“Yes, I am. Unlike you, for the first time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need them to like you.”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “I thought you said your previous interactions with them went well?”

“Well, they did—”

“So why wouldn’t they like you now?”

“Because they’re going to figure out that I am a literal garbage fire of a human being.”

Nathan sighs and pulls you in for a one-armed hug. “Kid.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re meeting Wade, too. If you can do worse than him, I’ll actually be impressed.”

You giggle –a little on the hysterical side, but who gives a shit at this point—at that. “Fair enough.”

He pats your back. “You’ve got this. I think the only person outside of where you grew up that doesn’t like you is Scott, and he doesn’t count.”

You snort. “He’s your dad.”

“I said what I said.”

All anxious misgivings aside, you do feel better, more confident. You know that Piotr’s family likes you well enough, and you’re definitely not going to do worse than Wade, of all people. You’ve got this.

And then the door opens, and you can hear Piotr greeting people and talking to them in Russian, and, yupp, his family’s officially here, and you do not got this.

And, in light of that stunning revelation, you take the least destructive course of action possible.

You pass out.

You come to in the library, stretched out on one of the couches, with Wade’s worried face hovering over you.

(His face is also attached to the rest of his body, which is a relief in and of itself. You wouldn’t put it past him to decapitate himself for a reaction.)

“Less screaming than I was expecting. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or not.”

You let out a weak huff. “I’ve seen uglier than you.”

“See, now I’m just offended. I’ll have you know that it takes a lot of work to look this bad, and I will not have my hard work go unrecognized.”

“You look just fine, handsome,” Nathan says softly. He’s seated in the chair next to you. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little lightheaded? Did I pass out?”

He nods. “You know why?”

“Fuck if I know,” you grumble as you fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I, for one, highly advise never knowing anything ever,” Wade says brightly. “Makes life much easier that way.”

You laugh, and for a moment you almost forget that you’re in here because you passed out, and that you’ve still got to deal meeting Piotr’s family at some point—

And then the door to the library swings open and Piotr walks in, his expression the perfect picture of concern.

You feel your throat constrict as reality comes crashing back and look away quickly in a –bad—attempt to hide the tears welling up in your eyes.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant, cradling you in his arms and crooning to you gently. “Nyet, nyet, nyet. None of that. Why so upset? Are you hurt?”

You sniff lamely. “I’m sorry.”

You can feel him frown as he presses his lips against your forehead. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’m just fucking everything up—”

He shushes you again, this time kissing the bridge of your nose. “Not true. You have ruined nothing.”

“But I passed out—”

“It happens—”

“And now your family’s gonna hate me!”

Piotr actually has to pause and blink a few times in order to process your sudden turn in reasoning, which is probably a good indicator for how far off base your logic is –not that you’re aware of that at the moment, because nothing in this life ever comes easy. “Myshka –tische,” he says when you don’t stop rambling. “I am not following. How do you get from ‘passing out’ to ‘my family hating you?’”

You let out a frustrated whine and gesture at your head. “It makes sense in here!”

He sighs softly and kisses your forehead. “You are worrying for nothing. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

You bury your face into his shoulder. “No, it won’t. They’re gonna realize I’m a fucking garbage fire and hate me.”

“You are not garbage fire—”

“Yes, I am!”

“Nyet. You are not.” He kisses your forehead. “Do you trust me?”

You scrub your face with your hands and nod.

“Then, trust me when I say it will be fine.”

“But—”

“Trust me. Please. It will be fine.” He helps you sit up and kisses you gently. “You stay here. I will get my family.”

“Wait.” You grab his shirt before he can stand. “Just –just for a minute. Please?”

He obliges, sitting with you while you take a moment to collect yourself. He holds your hands in his, rubbing little circles over your knuckles. His blue eyes are locked on you, loving and completely judgement free.

He’s a literal, actual angel.

There’s no way in hell you deserve him.

You take a deep breath –two, three, four, c’mon, Y/N, just like ripping off a bandaid—and nod. “Alright. Okay.”

He smiles softly, kisses your forehead, and squeezes your hand once before getting up and heading out of the library.

You can hear him talking in the hallway, and footsteps walking towards the library—

It’s happening. Oh God it’s happening.

Nate squeezes your shoulder. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

You inhale deeply and focus on staying calm. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.

Meeting the Rasputin family, as it turns out, is not as disastrous as your anxiety thought it would be. Shocking.

It’s also more of an experience than your rational brain had expected. You’d expected them to be a loving, decent family –they are—and the similarities in appearance and personality quirks—

What you did not expect, first and foremost, was for Alexandra Rasputin to walk into the library while shucking a black leather jacket, thus revealing two full sleeves of tattoos on her arms.

Mikhail follows after her, also dressed in a black leather jacket, faded red Chucks, and heavily distressed jeans. He’s got piercings in both ears and long, curly hair that’s been tied back into a man bun, of all things, and you can just make out some sort of tattoo peeking over the collar of his shirt.

Illyana, the baby of the family at nineteen, is also similarly dressed in black –though she looks more ‘refined goth’ than ‘side road punk’ like her brother. Her ears are also pierced, silver studs sparkling from multiple points—

And then Nikolai walks in, wearing sensible, non-worn out jeans and a button-down shirt, and holy fuck you never considered that Piotr might be the odd kid out.

Next to you, Wade’s also similarly shocked. He’s actually gaping, mostly because he doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks about him. “How did your boy scout end up like that with all of… this?” he hisses in your ear.

“Fuck if I know,” you whisper back.

“Y/N.” Alexandra smiles warmly at you, brown eyes sparkling as she extends a hand towards you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” Her dark, black hair cascades over one shoulder as she shakes your hand—

And it’s not hard to see why your uncle fell for her, way back whenever that was. You’re two seconds in to meeting Alexandra Rasputin, and you’re downright charmed.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you manage. “Sorry, uh, about the—”

She waves you off as she sits on the couch opposite of you. “These things happen. No apologies needed.”

After nearly a whole lifetime of being raked over the coals for your differences, your weaknesses, her simple, easy acceptance of the situation –of you—almost makes you cry.

Piotr goes about making the necessary introductions between his family, Wade, and Nate; since you know enough about Alexandra’s backstory, it’s easy to catch the glints of sharpness in her eyes that set her apart from her family, the little bits of awareness of who she’s talking to and just what they might be capable of. You’ve seen it in Wade, Nate, your uncle, Neena, and it’s… interesting to watch it now.

Illyana wrinkles her nose at Wade once the two of them are introduced, and for a moment you think she might say something about his appearance, but then she says, “I cannot read him.” She pauses for a moment, then jerks her chin at Nate. “Him either.”

That gets an eyebrow raise from Nathan. “You’re telepathic.”

“Wade has healing factor,” Piotr explains. “None of telepaths here can read him.”

“Pretty sure they wouldn’t want to!” Wade adds brightly.

“And Nathan…”

“Techno-organic virus,” Nate supplies, gesturing at his arm. “Part of it’s in my brain already. Puts out interference against telepaths.”

“So, your arm is not prosthetic?” Nikolai asks.

“It’s a virus I contracted as a child. It eats away at my organic body and replaces what it eats with metal and technology.”

Alexandra’s lips quirk into something resembling a smirk. “Fun.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And… how are you two related to Y/N?” Mikhail asks, brow furrowed. “She’s mentioned that the two of you are together, and I’ve heard Wade referred to as ‘brother,’ but she calls you ‘dad’…”

“They’re my adoptive family,” you clarify quickly. “None of us are actually related to each other.”

“And what about your biological family?” Nikolai interjects.

You grimace. You’ve kept your proverbial cards close to your chest about your biological family –some things just aren’t meant to be discussed over a Skype call. But now, now doesn’t seem quite like the right time to talk about it –your parents, growing up, everything—either.

You settle on the simplest option. “I’m not in contact with them, save for my uncle. He might show up while you’re here. Or not. He’s kinda like a cat, actually. Does what he damn well pleases when it damn well pleases him.”

Alexandra smirks, then nods. “Well, hopefully we’ll get to meet him.”

You wonder for a moment if she’s just playing along, or if she has no idea who you’re talking about, then shrug. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

There’s quite a bit you pick up about the Rasputin family in your first face-to-face conversation with them.

First, it’s that Nikolai’s the talker of the two parents. He’s not overly animated or loud, but asks the most questions and offers the most anecdotes. Alex, by contrast, seems more content to observe. Most of her commentary is a simple expression –a smirk, a raise of an eyebrow—or a gentle huff.

Alexandra, however, is definitely the wittier of the two of them. Which isn’t to say that Nikolai isn’t witty, but Alex can go toe to toe with Wade, of all people.

All conversation effectively dies for about five minutes because all of you are gasping for air after the two of them get going.

Second, it’s that the family seems to be full of ‘odd ones out.’ Case in point, Illyana’s the only Rasputin child to have gotten Nikolai’s blond hair –but Alexandra’s the only one with brown eyes; all of her children have her husband’s baby blues.

And Piotr’s really the only one that’s like Nikolai in mannerisms. His two siblings have more of Alexandra’s ‘grit’ to them. Their smiles are a little sharper around the edges, their responses a little edgier than their brother’s.

Illyana, however, is the only quiet one. Mikhail is loud and gregarious –roguish, even—and Piotr easily outpaces his baby sister by miles in the conversation department.

“She’s too used to using her abilities to glean everyone’s thoughts,” Alexandra says of her daughter at one point, nudging Illyana’s leg with her foot –and that’s when you notice that Alexandra Rasputin is wearing combat boots. “Not used to talking.”

“It is more efficient,” Illyana mutters, smirking just a little.

The third thing you notice about the Rasputin family takes a little more time to put together. In fact, you don’t really even pick up on it until you’re helping Piotr get his family settled in.

Mikhail and Piotr Rasputin do not get along.

“Do you like being X-Man?” Illyana asks as you and Piotr help his family unload the car they arrived in.

“I’m not technically an X-Man,” you clarify. “But I do help with missions, now and then. I wouldn’t say it’s ‘fun,’ but it’s definitely not boring.”

“Piotr says he likes it,” the youngest Rasputin explains. She smiles and wraps her arms around her brother’s waist. “Says it is best choice he ever made.”

Piotr beams as he squeezes her in a one-armed hug. “I like helping others, teaching others to be better. I find it fulfilling.”

“And some of us,” Mikhail interjects as he pulls a massive black duffel bag out of the back of the car, “like having fun.”

“Mikhail does mercenary work,” Illyana whispers to you as Piotr grimaces.

And, suddenly, Piotr’s constant aggravation with Wade makes sense; it just hits too close to home for comfort.

“Not just that, but da.” Mikhail grins. “Not all of us can live with being glorified nyanya.”

Piotr’s grimace deepens into a frown. “I see nothing wrong with it.”

Mikhail shrugs –a tense, jerky movement that belies the casual expression on his face—and starts walking briskly towards the house. “Not all of us can be you.”

You don’t miss the way Piotr’s shoulders sag, just a little, and roll up onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I think you’re an amazing teacher. The kids here are lucky to have you.”

He smiles down at you and kisses your forehead. “Spasibo, moya serdste.”

One of the best things about normal families that don’t hate each other, you’ve discovered, is that there’s an abundance of evidence of them being happy and living each other. Namely, in the form of pictures.

Especially pictures of childhood and teenage years that the subject of said picture might want, say, buried forever and left forgotten to humanity for the rest of time.

Which is how you find yourself cooing over various baby, childhood, and teenage-years pictures of Piotr while your boyfriend and his father work on preparing dinner. “Oh. My. Gosh.” You hold a picture of Piotr dated from when he was fifteen. “You never told me you dyed your hair!”

The picture itself shows a teenage Piotr favoring the camera with a brooding expression. He’s dressed in baggy jeans, a black hoodie, worn out looking farm boots –and his hair is dyed bright, obnoxious, blue-raspberry flavored Airhead blue.

Not the top, or the fringe. His whole head.

Piotr sighs and shakes his head, tips of his ears turning red as he focuses –very intently—on the skillet he’s working with. “I fail to see what is so amazing about all of this. My hair was blue. Many teenagers dye hair.”

“He had his friend pierce his ears in barn during summer,” Illyana adds, leaning over your shoulder to point at the picture. “He thought it looked cool.”

“It did look cool,” Piotr mutters under his breath; he shoots a sharp glare at Mikhail when his brother spouts off something in Russian, but says nothing else.

You can’t help but laugh when you make out the stud in your boyfriend’s ear. “Oh my gosh. You were an emo kid! Did you really pierce your ears?”

He sighs, but smiles with a shrug. “Da. I took piercings out when I turned twenty. The holes scarred shut.”

“Can I see?” You reach out for him when he sighs, then grin when he hands the pan he’s working with off to his father and makes his way over to you. You brace your hands against his chest and peer at his ear as he bends over so you can see better –and, sure enough, there’s a faint scar right on his lobe where the piercing used to be.

“Is not that funny,” he mumbles when you laugh, but he kisses your forehead anyway.

Mikhail chuckles. “Kiska-vzbityye.”

And while you don’t know what that particular phrase means, the sudden glare he gets from Piotr and the none-too-subtle throat clearing from Nikolai and Alexandra tell you that it couldn’t have been particularly nice—

And then all ponderings you have about what Mikhail just said fly out the window, because your uncle lands on the back lawn of Xavier’s property.

“Holy shit.” You dart out the back door and across the lawn to where he’s standing.

Your uncle catches you in a massive hug and spins you around. “Hey, punk! How ya doing?”

“Good! What’re you doing here? I didn’t even know you were coming!”

He smirks, shrugs, and starts steering you back towards the mansion. “Had the time off. Got bored of jacking around at my place. Thought I’d come see you.”

You can’t help but beam as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Well, your timing’s just amazing.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, Piotr’s family came to visit—” You cut yourself off right as the two of you step back into the kitchen, because at that precise moment you recollect the conversation on your uncle’s farm where you put together that he’d had a thing for Piotr’s mom –still has a thing for Piotr’s mom—and aw fuck.

The collective reactions from everyone in the kitchen are best described as ‘mixed.’

Your uncle, true to form, goes completely and utterly still at the sight of Piotr’s family. All signs point towards him bolting out the back door once the shock passes.

Mikhail seems more curious than anything else, which suggests that he doesn’t know the whole backstory between your uncle and his mother.

Piotr, who knows what you told him back on the farm, keeps looking between his parents, your uncle, and you, expression saying ‘what the hell do we do with this?’

Illyana’s face stays fairly neutral, but you can only imagine what sorts of thoughts she’s picking up from everyone.

Nikolai, surprisingly enough, doesn’t seem all that perturbed. Surprised, sure, but there’s none of the usual –or, perhaps more accurately, projected by mass media—automatic jealousy and chest thumping you would’ve expected.

And Alexandra, as true to form for all you have context for, smirks and lifts the bottle of beer she’s been sipping at while everyone’s been chatting and prepping dinner towards your uncle. “Been a while.”

That gets Mikhail’s attention. He frowns at his mother and jerks his head at your uncle. “You know him?”

One of Alex’s eyebrows tic upwards, just for a moment, and she lifts the bottle to her mouth to take another sip. “Old colleague.”

And that’s got to be some sort of code for whatever Alexandra’s got lurking in her past, because Mikhail’s eyes narrow automatically and he starts regarding your uncle with about as much caution you suspect he’s capable of.

Your uncle’s mouth tightens into a grimace –and then he sighs and visibly forces himself to relax. “Yeah. It has been.” He gestures with the hiking backpack he has slung over his shoulder. “Let me get settled, and then I’ll help get dinner ready.”

For a moment, you’re completely shocked by his apparent decision to stay –and so is everyone else, from what you can tell, because even Alex looks surprised—and then your brain kicks back on. “Uh, yeah. Let me help you find a room to stay in.”

It’s easy enough to find a room –most of the students and teachers are out for the summer, either staying with or visiting family—and you pick one that faces away from the drive and has a balcony.

Your uncle sets his pack on the floor next to the bed. “Thanks, punk.”

You nod and laugh nervously. “If I leave you to get settled in, are you just going to leave via the balcony and head back home?”

He sighs heavily, rubs at the back of his neck with his hand, then shakes his head. “No. I came here to see you. That hasn’t changed.”

You blink, stunned. “But Piotr’s family—”

He shrugs. “I’ll manage. I’m not gonna ditch out on you just because some people –well, no, yeah, ‘people,’ I met Nick a couple times way back when—I used to know are here. I’m not gonna do that to you.”

You throat constricts with emotion and your eyes get misty with tears. You practically dive at your uncle and wrap your arms around his neck in a massive hug.

He holds you back just as tight as you start to cry. “I got you, punk. I got you.”

You wake up next morning when Piotr does. Pale, golden, early morning light is peeking through the cracks between the curtains and the window frames; you can hear birds chirping outside, occasionally punctuated by sounds of traffic or people waking up from somewhere else in the house.

Piotr kisses your forehead when you stretch and make various squeaking noises. “Dobroye utro, myshka. It is still early. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

You sigh contentedly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down for a proper kiss. “No. ‘M up. What’re you doing?”

“Getting ready to work on breakfast.”

You stretch again –your back finally gives a satisfying pop—and sit up. “I’ll help you.”

He smirks as he resumes getting dressed for the morning. “‘Help’ or ‘hinder?’”

You gasp and feign offense. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty helpful!”

He chuckles –then laughs when you get up and start poking him in the ribs for some well-deserved retaliation, before catching your hands in his and lifting them to his mouth so he can kiss your knuckles. “Ya lyublyu tebya, dorogoy.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” You kiss him gently, then start rummaging through your dresser to find a clean shirt and pair of shorts. “So… what do you think of my uncle being here?”

Piotr lets out a mildly amused huff. “I was not… expecting him.”

“Neither was I,” you mumble. You clear your throat, then say, “Are you, like, okay with him being around? Y’know, while your mom’s here?”

Piotr shrugs. “She seems comfortable enough. Besides, your uncle has just as much right to see you as moya mama does to see me.”

“Okay, but your mom has the poker face of a granite statue.”

He snorts at that. “Very true. But I think she is… as good with things as possible.”

Suitably dressed, you pull your hair back into a messy, somewhat haphazard bun, before pulling on a pair of socks. “Fair enough.” You kiss your burly boyfriend again before patting his chest and yanking him towards the hallway door. “Come on. I want coffee.”

As it so happens, Piotr’s parents and your uncle are already awake for the day and seated at the kitchen island. Your uncle seems a little twitchy –well, more so than usual—but seems to be holding up well, all things considered.

You plop down on the stool next to him and drop your head onto the counter. “Ow.”

“Try it again,” your uncle suggests. “I bet it won’t hurt the second time around.”

“Fuck you.”

Across the counter, Alexandra snorts. “How are you this morning, malen'kaya ptitsa?”

It takes you a minute to put together that she’s talking to you; when you do, you lift your head off the counter. “Uh… not bad? Kinda tired, but that’s pretty typical.”

The corner of her mouth turns up in a slight smile as she nods, and then she leans back on her stool a little and starts talking to Piotr in Russian.

You let the noise of their conversation wash over you as you drop your head back down to the counter –much gentler this time—and close your eyes. You’re starting to wonder if agreeing to get up when Piotr did was such a good idea after all—

And then Piotr sets a steaming mug of coffee down in front of you and kisses the top of your head.

Your uncle smirks as you pick up your cup with a delighted coo. “What, can’t make your own coffee?”

“I’m not allowed to dictate my own caffeine intake anymore,” you admit, “because someone thinks I’m irresponsible.”

“You drank three Redbull cans in almost as many hours when we drove out for training,” Piotr retorts, fixing you with an exasperated look. “You are exact definition of ‘irresponsible.’”

You smile sheepishly as the other adults laugh. “Yeah, but you love me.”

He kisses your temple. “Konechno.”

“Where do you go for training?” Alexandra asks as Piotr starts rummaging through the kitchen to get started on breakfast. “I was under the impression that Charles had well-equipped trainers to handle his recruits.”

“Oh, I do train here.” You jerk your head at your uncle. “I just go see him on occasion, if I need special training.”

Alexandra nods. “Not many mutants have access to other mutants with similar power sets. You are very lucky.”

You snort. “Well, I don’t know if I’d say ‘lucky.’ He lives out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a pain to get out to him.”

“Travelling builds character,” your uncle fires back easily.

“You make me do chores when I’m there!”

“Chores build character, too.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly and shake your head. “Yeah, whatever.” You take another swig of coffee, then cock your head to the side so you can see Alex’s tattoos better. “Y’know, even with all the times I talked to you guys on Skype, I don’t think I ever counted on you having tattoos.”

“Most people do not,” Alexandra says with a slight smirk.

“How long did it take for you to get all of them done?”

“Well, the actual tattoos take a few sessions to do, since they cover my full arms.” She holds up her left arm. “I worked on developing this sleeve for… a few years, I think, in my twenties, but this one—” she taps the right one “—I got done in a few weeks, when I was forty-two. Medvezhonok actually designed it for me, before he left to come to America.”

“That’s cool.” You peer closer at the design –it’s a piece that blends a sunset on a beach into a full on starry galaxy—and sure enough you pick up on little bits of Piotr’s style. “I never actually considered getting a tattoo. I guess I could get one, if I wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” your uncle interjects. “The family’s latent mutation is gonna make it harder for the ink to set properly.”

You let out a disappointed huff. “Well. That sucks.”

“Same goes for piercings, too.”

“Well, now I’m just depressed. How am I supposed to go through a proper rebellious phase without being able to get a tattoo or pierce the fuck out of my ears?”

“You still have hair,” Nikolai points out with a smile.

You grin. “That’s true. I could always dye my hair. And you could help me, babe, since you know all about that!”

Piotr just sticks his tongue out at you before going back to getting breakfast ready.

“So, what’s it like living in Russia?” I mean, Piotr’s already told me a lot, but I’m sure there’s stuff he left out.”

Alexandra and Nikolai take turns telling stories –about what farm life is like, about what the kids were like growing up, about the community they lived in. Each one’s better than the last, and it’d be more than easy to stay enthralled—

Except that your brain keeps putting certain details together.

Like how the Rasputin family lives on a farm.

And how your uncle mentioned that Alexandra had always wanted to live on a farm.

And how your uncle is still in some sort of love with Alexandra.

…And how he lives on a farm, too.

You wind up staring at him halfway through a story about how Mikhail had tried to teach their barn cats to swim, and the growing look of confusion and mild horror must be more obvious than you’d thought because Alex actually stops mid-sentence to glance between you and your uncle.

“Am I missing something?” she asks.

You blink at your uncle when he raises an eyebrow at you. “You… you live on a farm.”

Alex puts together the details much faster than you did and gives your uncle a look that lands somewhere between exasperation and shock.

“Relax,” your uncle grinds out quickly. “My coping mechanisms aren’t that bad. It’s a matter of convenience. Easier for me to stay off radars that way.”

“Konechno, konechno,” Nikolai says with genuine sweetness. “What kind of farm?”

“Not really anything specific. I grow some produce, but that’s about it –and it’s mostly for me, too,” your uncle explains with a jerky shrug. “It’s more about staying in the middle of nowhere.”

Nikolai frowns softly. “Must be lonely.”

Your uncle ducks his head, clears his throat, and pushes his stool back with a scraping noise as he stands. “Hey, Pete. Let me help you with some of that.”

It’s a clear cry for some space. Please, stop asking, I can’t take anymore.

Nikolai’s forehead wrinkles as your uncle walks to the opposite side of the kitchen. He opens his mouth to say something else, then pauses when Alexandra puts her hand on his arm.

She shakes her head.

Don’t try. Leave him be.

He closes his mouth again, hangs his head slightly –then clears his throat and straightens back up before smiling at you. “So. You… enjoy it here?” He gestures at the room. “At mansion?”

It’s unfathomable, but it almost seems like he’s… worried about your uncle. About the man who –at one point, ostensibly—was his romantic rival.

And, granted there’s a lot of water under the bridge that might’ve been Alex and your uncle, but the absolute, unlimited gentleness that Nikolai exudes is nothing short of amazing.

He reminds you a lot of Piotr, actually.

You smile back and nod. “I do.”

You wind up going on a run while your uncle and Piotr get breakfast ready. Since it’s the middle of summer there aren’t any students to interrupt your efforts, leaving you to run one of the trails in the woods at the back of Xavier’s property in peace.

And with that peace comes a lot of thoughts.

So far, things aren’t going all that bad with Piotr’s family –even with your uncle randomly showing up. You haven’t made an ass of yourself, and none of the Rasputins seemed too put off by your fainting spell yesterday.

You can still feel the need to have them like you lingering in your chest, though. A little nagging sensation that you’re not good enough.

Focus on running, you tell yourself. Oxygen in, bad thoughts out. Catharsis. Not twisting your ankles. Yes.

You slow down to a jog as you come out of the woods and onto the back lawn—

And nearly stop altogether when you see your uncle and Alexandra sitting out on the patio by the back door.

Because out of everything you expected to see today, that is not even close to any of it.

Alex inclines her head at you as you approach. “Care to join us?”

“For a minute, sure.” You plop down into one of the patio chairs and pant heavily. “I think I’m properly awake now.”

“I bet,” Alex says.

“I thought you only ran for food,” your uncle teases.

“Yes. This is my ‘pre-breakfast’ run.”

“What, do you have a pre-lunch run, too?”

“No. I’m not a masochist.”

Alex chuckles, then lifts her hand and makes a loose twisting motion.

The back door swings open just in time to let Nikolai –who’s carrying three cups of coffee with him—out onto the patio.

You keep an eye on your uncle as the two Rasputin parents converse briefly in Russian. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem too much weirder than normal, but that doesn’t mean you’re not done worrying.

Nikolai sets down one of the cups in front of Alex, one in front of the chair next to her, then hands the third to your uncle. “I was not sure how you take—”

Your uncle waves him off as accepts the cup. “Coffee’s coffee. I drink it however. Uh, thank you.”

You can’t help but blink.

It’s not every day you witness a man giving his former (sorta) romantic rival a cup of coffee, after all.

Nate and Wade show up a little before lunch –and Wade is absolutely delighted to finally meet your uncle –and vice versa—after so much time and speculation.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” your uncle says as he shakes Wade’s hand. “Especially a lot about you and fireworks.”

“We have a love-hate relationship,” Wade says with the utmost sincerity.

“And this—” you gesture to Nate “—is dad. Or, uh, Nate.”

Your uncle sticks out his hand to Nathan. “I already like you better than her biological one.” There’s a beat of silence, and your uncle looks like he’s dying inside for a moment before he looks down at you. “Awkward?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Just repress it?”

“Probably the best option.”

Nathan’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’m already seeing the family resemblance.”

“Terminal awkwardness,” you supply. “It’s genetic.”

“Part of the mutation lineage,” your uncle adds.

“So, not to point out the obvious, but you—” Wade points at you “—didn’t introduce him with a name.”

You freeze for a minute, because fuck there’s really not a good way to explain that—

“Legally, I don’t have one,” your uncle says.

Wade’s eyes light up. “So, that’s free game to call you whatever pops into my head in the moment?”

“Fuck no. Andrew works fine.”

“Well. That’s disappointingly vanilla.”

Your uncle watches Wade as he traipses into Xavier’s like he owns the place, an amused smile play at his lips. “Oh, he’s a riot.”

“Just wait,” you tell him. “He gets better.”

Ellie and Yukio show up after lunch –and both girls immediately gravitate towards Illyana, and you can absolutely see where some of Ellie’s goth style comes from now that you’ve got the two of them side by side.

“This is so cute, I can’t,” you whisper to Wade as you watch the two of them compare notes about some of the latest fashion trends in their fashion community.

“Baby Goth and… less Baby Goth,” Wade agrees. “Hi, Yukio!”

“Hi, Wade!”

“Did you bring it?” Ellie asks Illyana, the most excited and animated-looking you’ve seen her, well, ever. “Did you bring it?”

Illyana laughs. “Konechno. I must practice.”

Ellie whirls and looks imploringly up at Piotr. “Can we go to the music room? Please?”

Illyana bats her eyelashes at her older brother. “I do need practice.”

You frown, confused. “Wait, what? What practice? And why do we need to go to the music room it?”

Piotr chuckles as he starts walking out of the kitchen. “Come and see.”

Part of your curiosity is sated when Mikhail and Illyana walk into the music room with a guitar case and a violin case, respectively.

And then whatever satiation you might’ve had evaporates when Illyana pulls out an instrument you’ve never seen before. “The fuck is that?”

“Language, myshka.”

“Electric violin,” Illyana says, elbowing Mikhail in the side when he shoots Piotr a disbelieving look. “I played since age seven.”

“And you obviously play guitar,” you say as you point at Mikhail. “Huh. I guess I never thought you guys were musical. I mean, I’ve heard Piotr sing –well, try to sing—”

“We do not let him sing!” Mikhail exclaimed, eyes wide. “Never. He made Illyana cry when she was baby!”

Piotr shrugs somewhat amicably, though his smile looks a touch strained. “I just have different talents. Nothing wrong with that.”

Mikhail snorts. “If you say so.”

“Honestly acquired,” Nikolai pipes up, tapping his own chest with his index finger. “I am not singer either.”

“Play something by Metallica!” Ellie insists brightly as Illyana and Mikhail finish setting up.

Illyana snorts. “Do you enjoy giving complicated request?”

“I think we can handle it,” Mikhail says with an easy grin. “We have been practicing.”

You sit down next to Piotr, nestling against his side as he puts his arm around your shoulders. “Are they really going to play rock music?”

He smiles. “Wait and see.”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sounds of Illyana and Mikhail tuning their respective instruments.

Then, Illyana nods, Ellie hits ‘play’ on a CD player, and the opening chords of Metallica’s ‘Ride the Lightning’ blast through the room.

It’s nothing short of astounding. Illyana plays the part originally meant for the lead guitar, while Mikhail bobs his head with the beat as he plays the rhythm part.

You can’t help but grin. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it before. Then, a vocalist kicks in on the CD, and you frown. “Wait. That’s not James Hetfield.”

“Lzzy Hale,” Ellie says over the music. “It’s the Halestorm cover!”

Your jaw drops when Illyana keeps up with the fastest guitar riffs without even breaking a sweat. “Holy shit.”

Piotr doesn’t even bother to correct your language. He just beams like the proud brother he is. “She is very talented.”

“No kidding! I don’t think my fingers could move that fast, like, ever!” You grin and nod your head in time with the music. Alright. Color me impressed.

The next few days are nothing short of utterly delightful. Piotr’s family is absolutely wonderful to be around, your uncle’s not acting any weirder than usual and –dare you say it—even seems to be enjoying himself, and the mansion hasn’t blown up –which might be a record of some kind, all things considered.

Even with the weird tension between Piotr and Mikhail, things are good. The two brothers seem more happy than annoyed to see each other, and things don’t really escalate past a few pointed comments –usually from Mikhail—directed at each other.

If anything, the only regret you’re having is not always have a camera or your phone on hand. There’s no shortage of priceless moments –especially when Alexandra revealed she’d brought some of Piotr’s old artwork with. The look of mortification on his face –and the actual drawings and paintings themselves—was priceless.

It’s almost been downright idyllic.

…

“So, wait, you’re the mutant parent.”

Alexandra nods. “Telekinesis and energy manipulation.”

You point to Nikolai. “And you’re…”

“Carrier,” he says with a smile. “Not actual mutant, but gene is very present in family lineage.”

“So the likelihood that Piotr and I are gonna have mutant kids—”

“Basically guaranteed,” Alexandra says with a smirk. “I’ll be sure to give you a few fireproof blankets before you have your first one.”

Your eyes widen. “Fireproof?”

“Mikhail can summon fire –along with manipulating energy and teleportation.”

“Illyana can teleports, too,” Nikolai adds. “It is magic channeling, from my side of family.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I could have a fireball baby that could teleport at random.”

Alex chuckles. “Mikhail was.. rare. He manifested three weeks after birth. But Piotr was a, ah, late bloomer; we actually thought he wouldn’t be a mutant.”

“Manifested at nineteen,” Nikolai adds with a chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s told me the story. Put himself between Illyana and a tractor, just happened to armor up.” You grimace. “I’m glad he turned out to have an armor mutation.”

“So were we. At any rate, I doubt your children will manifest as young as Mikhail, since Piotr presented so late.” Alex eyes you for a minute. “You are planning on having children?”

You nod. “Yeah, after we get married. We’re just… uh…” You swallow hard and duck your head. “We’re waiting on some things with my health to… clear up.”

“Medvezhonok mentioned as much.”

Nikolai gently places his hand on yours. “How… how are things? Are you healthy?”

You nod as best as you can. “Yeah, pretty much. It’s more, uh, mentally related.”

Alexandra nods. “Your episodes.”

“I take it Piotr mentioned them,” you say with a grimace.

“Only that you had them and that no one knew why,” she clarifies. “He did not give specifics.”

“Yeah.” You sigh heavily. “If I knew why they were happening –if there was a way to treat them—I might not hesitate so much, but… I keep breaking from reality. And –and when I do that, I relive some… some really bad memories from my childhood. My uncle kind of explained it as my mutation putting up a defensive shield around me while I go through the episode? I, uh, I’ve uprooted trees before, so… yeah.”

Nikolai nods as Alexandra translates for him, then frowns deeply and squeezes your hand. “That sounds very… intimidating?”

“Scary,” Alex corrects.

“Da. That one.” He gives you a concerned look. “Do you have way to be safe during such moments?”

“Oh, yeah. The mansion’s got safe rooms for various mutation meltdowns,” you explain. “Whenever I have an episode, I book it over there until everything passes. And I’m not having as many lately. My therapist’s been working on treating my anxiety, which helps reduce stress, which means I have less episodes, so… yeah.”

“Well, take care of you first, always,” Nikolai says, patting your hand. “Cannot be healthy mama if not healthy you first.”

You can’t help but smile at him. “Don’t worry; I will.”

You run into Nikolai at the gazebo later that night. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

He starts when he hears your voice and takes the cigarette out of his mouth a little sheepishly. “Ah… bad habit from youth. Never quite vanquished.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” You start up a small breeze to carry the smoke away from the gazebo, then sit down next to him. “Something got you stressed, or…”

He shakes his head. “Not so much. Just occasionally get urge.” He glances over at you. “Do you?”

“Nah. Stuff like that’s bad for my anxiety. I try to stay away from it.”

He smiles ruefully. “Probably for best.”

Unbidden, memories from you most recent stay at your uncle’s place pop into your mind’s eye.

She always wanted a farm. Leave it to that woman to get what she wants in life.

You look up –Nikolai’s built a lot like Piotr—at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Konechno. Anything.”

“You… you know about my uncle and… Alexandra, right?”

He nods. “Da.”

“You seem… pretty comfortable with him being here.”

He raises an eyebrow with you, but he doesn’t seem alarmed or upset. “Should I not be?”

“No, I just…”

“You were expecting ‘jealous man?’”

“A little, I guess.”

Nikolai sighs and takes a long drag from his cigarette. He exhales a cloud of smoke, then taps some ash on a little tissue square set next to him on the bench. “As I see, Alexandra and I have good marriage. I trust her with all things –and I trust your uncle to act decent. This is not my first time meeting. I know what type he is.” He frowns a little. “If anything, I worry for him. Alexandra says he lives alone?”

You nod. “Yeah. I think he likes it that way.”

Nikolai shakes his head. “No one ever likes that way. They just tell themselves so.”

“Yeah, there’s truth in that.” You cock your head to one side when he sighs. “You know, I think you’re the only guy I know that would worry over the wellbeing of his wife’s ex.”

“If we cannot have compassion for those hurting, we cannot properly exist,” Nikolai says simply, as if that explains everything.

In a way, it does. And, not for the first time since the Rasputin family arrived, you’re completely floored by the overwhelming decency and kindness that each family member seems to exude.

A couple of mornings later, you wake up to Wade’s ringtone blaring as loud as it possibly can. You groan and crawl over your boyfriend to reach your phone –waking him up in the process, not that you’re awake enough to care at this precise moment—and answer the call. “You better have a good reason for waking me up this early.”

“Trust me, I do.”

The solemn urgency in Wade’s voice finishes waking you up; this isn’t a crank call or some random chat. He’s actually worried about something.

You sit up and push your hair out of your face. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

“We’re all still going shooting today, right? With Pete’s family and everything. This morning.”

“Yeah—”

“Can I bring a friend along?”

You blink, surprised. “Uh… it’s kind of a family event…”

Piotr rubs at his face and groans. “What does he want?”

You cover the microphone end of your phone with your hand. “He wants to bring a friend to the shooting outing today.”

Piotr rolls his eyes. “Tell him no.”

You lower your hand. “Piotr says—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but apparently it’s the anniversary of Castle’s family’s death, and…” Wade goes silent for a moment. “People just… people shouldn’t have to be alone when dealing with that shit.”

You’re not particularly attached to Frank Castle. He’s saved your life, you’ve saved his, and you’ve been around enough assassins-for-hire that his Punisher getup doesn’t really scare you all that much, but sometimes you forget that the man lost everything. That he’s still trying to grapple with losing everything.

And you know, firsthand, that having good distractions around while dealing with heavy emotional trauma can be nothing short of life-saving.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Wade sighs. “Look, normally I wouldn’t give a shit, but… but after Ness, and Nate losing his family—”

“No, no, I get. Hang on.” You cover the microphone end again and look over at Piotr. “He wants to bring Frank Castle.”

Piotr’s eyes widen. “What?”

“It’s the anniversary of his family’s death, babe. Wade’s worried about him being alone.”

Piotr takes a moment to process the information, then sighs heavily and gets out of bed. “I’ll go ask.”

“Piotr’s checking with his family,” You tell Wade, lowering your hand once more. “I’ll text you the outcome.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“You gotta promise me something,” you add, trying to be as stern as you can. “Frank’s gotta be on his best behavior. Piotr and I both have family members tied up… some complicated shit. If you think Frank’s gonna start doing his ‘Punisher thing,’ then he can’t come.”

“I’ll keep him on a short leash. Figuratively. I’m pretty sure he’d cut my balls off if I tried to do it literally.”

“I mean… they’d always grow back.”

“Okay, but that would hurt.”

“I mean, it would… but can you imagine getting a picture of having Frank Castle on a literal, actual leash?”

Wade goes silent for a moment. “Holy shit, I just found my new project.”

The two of you derail into the rabbit hole of how to put the Punisher on an actual leash –and then the finer workings of if a lasso can count as a leash, because if it can’t that means Wade would have to get a collar of some sort on Frank, too, and more steps means more possible stabbings—long enough that you’re still on the phone when Piotr walks back into the room.

“Okay, what about those leashed backpacks that parents use for kids?” you suggest as Piotr opens the door to your bedroom once more.

“A solid idea. Wait, do they make those in the right size for emotionally constipated men with guns?”

“Fuck, I guess they don’t.”

Piotr just stares at you. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re trying to figure out how to get an actual leash on the Punisher,” you say. “Like, just for a photo. Not for anything kinky.”

“Excuse you, I’d be happy to try the kinky stuff, too,” Wade objects.

“Yeah, we’ll you’re insane.”

“You are both insane,” Piotr mutters. “And my family is fine with Frank coming.”

You relay the invitation to Wade, then hang up after promising to help him with the logistics of putting a leash on the Punisher. You slide out of the bed and wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s torso. “Thank you.”

He kisses the top of your head. “For what?”

“For humoring Wade. He was concerned about Frank after everything he went through with losing Vanessa.”

Piotr stays silent for a moment, then sighs heavily. “I did not even consider that. I was more thinking about Mr. Castle.”

You kiss his chest. “Well, still. Thank you.”

It’s mid-morning when Wade and Nate arrive with a particularly sullen, quiet Frank and—

“Oh!” You grin. “Karen! Hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

Karen Page grins back at you, just as classically pretty as you remember from the night you bled on her couch. “I figured I could use the practice, and Wade said I wouldn’t be intruding.”

Which is basically code for ‘I’m here for Frank,’ but you’re not about to point that out. “Not at all! Let me walk you guys out to the range. Piotr’s already out there with his family.”

“I didn’t exactly take him as the… ‘gun type,’” Karen says as she follows you around the side of the house.

“I think it’s more of a Russian thing,” you say. “Different attitudes towards firearms. And I don’t think he minds guns as much as he minds…” You let your voice trail off, then cut your eyes towards Wade a couple times.

Karen nods knowingly. “So what’s it like meeting his family?”

“Honestly? It’s been great. They’re a lot of fun to be around. Although, I’ve eaten so much food in the past week. I mean, I should’ve seen it coming since Piotr’s parents run a farm back in Siberia, but still.”

“That sounds like heaven,” Karen says.

“It really has been,” you agree. “How’s your week been?”

She lays out the basic pieces of a story she’s been working on –another corruption case in the Senate—but you can tell her focus in more on Frank than anywhere else. Her gaze darts over to him every few seconds, like she’s trying to make sure he isn’t going to make a break for it.

She shifts the focus back to you –well, the Institute, more accurately—after a few minutes, right about when you notice that Frank’s been tensing up the more she’s talked about her article.

And that basically reaffirms in your mind that the flirting and sheer connection between Frank and Karen you’d witnessed back when they’d rescued you wasn’t a product of your concussion, which is…

Interesting.

“We do have a few year-round residents,” you confirm. “Most the X-Men actually keep their own apartments and come in for two-week long shifts or emergencies. The people who stay here permanently are either kids that have been kicked out of their homes or picked up from orphanages or the foster system, or adults that can’t get their own place because their mutation makes that impossible for them.”

“How would a mutation get in the way of renting their own place?” Karen asks, frowning.

“Well, any mutation that affects physical appearance usually deters most possible letters from, y’know, letting. So, people with abnormally colored skin –think fluorescent green—or spikes protruding from their face or fur… you get the idea.”

Karen’s frown deepens. “But… they’re still people. It shouldn’t matter how they look.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our reality.” You grimace. “It is what it is. It’s why we all look out for each other like we do.”

Karen nods. “What about you and Piotr? Do you guys live here full time?”

“Piotr’s a teacher during the school year and on active training roster for the younger mutants –his armor makes him impervious to just about anything, which is handy when a kid might wind up accidentally chucking a fireball at your face—so he stays here full time, and I…” You shrug. “I’m here with him.”

“That’s right. You mentioned not being on good terms with your parents.”

It floors you, just a little, that Karen Page –who you’ve only known for a handful of hours, during which you were concussed and bled on her couch—would remember a little detail like that.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Wade interjects, ceasing his efforts in talking Frank’s ears off long enough to insert himself in your conversation with Karen. “I don’t know too many parents who call their kids just to say they hate them.”

All you can do is shrug when Karen shoots you a shocked look. “It is what it is. At least I don’t have to live with them anymore.” You can hear the sounds of Piotr talking with his family and your uncle, and you’ve never been more relieved to be approaching a group of people in your life. “We’re here. I’ll introduce you to everyone. Guys—” You step into the clearing where the range’s been set up. “This is Karen and Frank.”

It occurs to you precisely three seconds too late that you should’ve used an alias for Frank. Oh well. Can’t do anything now. You clear your throat and continue on. “Karen, Frank, these are Piotr’s parents, Alexandra and Nikolai, his siblings, Illyana and Mikhail, and my uncle—” you blank on a name until you remember that he told Wade to call him ‘Andrew,’ and you really hope that Karen and Frank don’t make too much of your pause “—Andrew.”

“How do you two know each other?” Mikhail asks, gesturing between you and Karen.

“Oh, you know, the usual. I got kidnapped, escaped, bled on her couch.” You shrug. “The basic foundations of any good friendship.”

Alexandra smirks. “Naturally.” Her gaze flits to Frank, who is very carefully keeping to the edge of the group and looking at everything but the people present. “Do you have any experience with firearms?”

Frank briefly –reluctantly—meets Alex’s gaze and nods. “Marine Corps. Former Scout sniper.”

Alex nods back, smirk completely unmoved by that little tidbit of information. “Good. You might be able to keep up.”

And that, out of everything, is what draws Frank out, gets his attention. He actually looks shocked for a moment, at the sheer brazenness of the comment, then smirks back. Just a little.

It’s better than the shell-shocked look he’d been wearing when he’d arrived.

“Only one way to find out, ma’am.”

You’re not unfamiliar with shooting guns; between Wade, Nate, and your uncle, you’ve got a decent amount of experience. You know how to handle one safely and fire it with pretty decent accuracy. Granted, shooting’s not your favorite way to spend your time –though it is, in your opinion, a decent way to blow off some anger.

Point stands: you shoot. You know how to shoot. You know how to handle a firearm safely –which, frankly, is what you care about most.

Second standing point: You’ve been around Nate and Wade long enough to know that some people are very serious –Nate—and enthused –Wade—about shooting, and like to make quite the event of target practice. You’re usually not opposed to such events –especially when Wade’s involved—because that implies you get to shoot fun targets, like half rotted watermelons or gallons of milk that have been emptied and subsequently filled with glitter.

But sweet holy fuck almighty, you’ve never seen a shooting event quite like this.

There are so many guns. More than you can count, but you’re pretty sure between your uncle, Wade, Nate, Alex, Mikhail, and Frank that there’s at least fifty different types.

Leave it to a group of mercenaries and assassins to pull out all the stops.

Also on the list of surprising things is that Piotr is a pretty decent shot; he sticks most to hunting rifles or shotguns, but still.

“I had to learn back home,” he says by way of explanation. “To keep farm safe from predators.”

“What?” You ask, all too enthralled to know more. “Like, bears?”

“Sometimes. Wolves, also. A tiger, once.”

You gape at him. “You saw a tiger? Like, outside of a zoo?”

He shrugs, as if he hadn’t just said one of the most mind-blowing things you’ve ever heard. “They are native to Siberia. Sometimes, juveniles come into town limits looking for food.”

“It is not a common experience,” Alexandra adds as she loads a pistol. “But it happens.”

“So, wait.” You frown. “Did you shoot the tiger?”

“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” Mikhail interjects before gesturing over his head with his hand. “Over. To scare.”

“That’s still amazing, though,” Karen says. “We only have tigers in zoos, over here.”

“I once threw myself into a tiger exhibit!” Wade adds as he adjusts the scope on one of his rifles.

“I thought I read about something like that in the news,” Frank mutters as he loads various clips.

“Why would you throw self into tiger display?” Illyana asks, expression rightfully confused.

“It was a low point, I admit.”

You can’t help but chuckle as you take it all in. You love your weird little family –Frank and Karen too, however they’re meant to fit in—such as they are.

You hang back and watch for the most part –and so does Piotr, seemingly more content to sit and observe with you once he’s got his ‘practice’ in. You laugh with everyone else when Illyana fucks up several of her shots and gets a gentle scolding from her mother that seems more worried than anything else, then try to ignore the churning pain in your chest when you watch Alex put her arms around her daughter and kiss the top of her blonde head.

It's what you never got, growing up; as much as you don’t want to be jealous, envious, you are.

“We’re gonna love the fuck out of our kids,” you tell Piotr quietly as Wade and Frank put up a new set of targets. “We’re gonna frickin’ smother them with hugs and love and kisses and everything.”

He puts his arms around you, almost protectively, and kisses the top of your head. “Konechno.”

Of course. Like it’s an automatic given. Like there’s not even another conceivable option. Of course the two of you are going to love your kids more than anything else.

You close your eyes and tip your head back against his chest as emotion –grief, pain, rage—threatens to overwhelm you.

Piotr wipes away your tears before there’s a risk of anyone seeing them.

The ‘extended target practice’ concludes with is arguably the most entertaining gun-related event you’ve ever seen and will ever see in your life: a super sniper shoot-off.

Frank, Alex, Mikhail, Wade, Nate, and your uncle all prep their various guns, and then it’s on.

Nate and your uncle are first out, surprisingly enough. Granted, the margin for error is extremely narrow, but you still expected them to make a little further.

Wade’s next, followed by Mikhail –and, now that you’re thinking about it, it all makes sense considering that the two of them use sniper rifles more regularly in their ‘lines of work.’

And that just leaves Frank and Alexandra, and whoo boy. Put two people who are equally stubborn and equally proud of their skills as snipers, and what do you get?

Correct answer: a very drawn-out, involved competition that eventually boils down to the two of them actually measuring the diameter of the holes where the bullets hit the targets –and, to make things worse, they both shot through the same hole five times—to see who had more deviation in their aim.

“How much longer are they gonna be?” You ask. The rest of you are already packed and ready to head back to the mansion for lunch.

“It could be a while,” Karen admits quietly.

Illyana nods in agreement, basically settling that you all might be out here until sundown before Frank and Alex find an answer that satisfies them both.

“Moya lyubov’,” Nikolai calls out.

“Terpeniye,” Alexandra says back –which, considering that she’s already said it five times, you’re figuring is the Russian equivalent of ‘just a minute’ or something similar. “Ha! You have the higher deviation! I win.”

“Did you use your telekinesis to keep things tighter?” your uncle asks in a lazy drawl.

The look of utter indignation and betrayal on Alex’s face is priceless –and so is the look of shock on Frank’s.

“You’ve been cheating,” he accuses.

“I have not!”

“There’s no other explanation! You’ve been using your mind shit to keep the shots tighter!”

Alex smirks. “Or, perhaps, I am just a better shot than you.”

Frank narrows his eyes at her. “The day I buy that is the day I put my hair up in a fucking man bun.”

And that is an amazing concept in and of itself, but the way Karen chokes on a snort tells you that there’s more to that than meets the eye—

Alex just takes a hair elastic off her wrist and holds it out to Frank. “Start pulling it back.”

Frank grins –and it’s the most human and not haunted you’ve seen him look all day—and shakes his head. “Nah. There’s only one way to settle this.”

And it’s easy to see where that’s going, judging by the looks on Frank and Alex’s faces, and since the rest of you actually want to each lunch before the turn of the century, you all swoop in to keep the two of them from putting up new targets and going at it again.

Karen actually shoves Frank away from the table with the rest of the guns and ammo on it. “No, no. I want to eat lunch. We’re going inside.”

“Okay, okay –Christ, let me put my shit away first.”

Wade shoots you a look when he sees the small grin Frank’s sporting, then raises his nonexistent eyebrows when you nod back at him.

Nikolai’s already whisked his wife away from the table, leaving Illyana and Mikhail to put her stuff away. They’re bickering in Russian at each other, and you’d be concerned if the expression on Nick’s face wasn’t one of complete and utter adoration.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch your uncle just barely holding in a pained grimace. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, and you try to think of some excuse about some of you heading back to the house to start lunch early –really, just anything that’ll give him an excuse to duck out without drawing attention to his departure—

“So, Y/N. Wade and Nate are telling me that you are most exceptional fighter.”

You look over at Mikhail, distracted from your internal reverie. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” You shrug. “I try.”

Piotr’s eyes narrow. “Mikhail—”

The eldest Rasputin waves him off, relaxed and indifferent. “So, that makes me wonder: just how good are you?”

It’s easy to hear the challenge without him actually saying it.

You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow at him. “Good enough to kick your ass.”

A chorus of chuckles goes through the group –and Piotr pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nyet, nyet. Absolutely not. We are going inside and eating—”

“Da, which means all more reason to do this now,” Mikhail argues. “No one wants to spar on full stomach.”

“You mean, you don’t want to get your ass kicked on a full stomach,” your uncle interjects, smirking. “Because that’s what’ll happen.”

Alexandra scoffs. “Biased much?”

“No more than you.”

It devolves quickly from there, everyone taking sides –Nate, your uncle, and Wade all back you, while Mikhail’s family is quick to vouch for his prowess—while Piotr does his best to get a handle on the situation and shoots daggers at his older brother.

And it’s the first time you’ve seen Piotr get downright angry with someone that isn’t Wade –sure, you and he have fought, but he’s never turned the full brunt of his wrath on you like he has occasionally with Wade—and the fact that it’s his brother makes it all the more…

Interesting.

Weird.

Concerning.

A mix of the three.

And then Frank takes his wallet out of his back pocket, and whatever control your darling boyfriend had over the situation evaporates.

He pulls out a couple bills and holds them between two of his fingers. “Twenty on Y/N.”

And now there’s money on the table –Wade tries to make his bet in cocaine, and fortunately Nathan gets him to shup the fuck up before Piotr can take his head off—and you’ve never been that good at backing down from a challenge.

You squeeze Piotr’s hand, trying to reassure him and get him to relax a little. “C’mon. Five minutes. It’ll be fun.”

The group of you walk out to the back lawn –far enough away from the house that you shouldn’t be at risk of destroying any windows, but close enough that someone can easily get the first aid kit if stuff goes wrong.

“Five minutes!” you shout at Mikhail. “Do your fucking worst!” You float off the ground, careful to keep an eye on the eldest Rasputin; it’s a go-to move of yours; most of your opponents can’t levitate themselves or uses their abilities against you as easily if you fly, and you’re not above using such an easy advantage.

Mikhail smirks –then winks out of sight before appearing right in front of you and latching onto your shoulders like a koala.

“Shit!” You bob up and down as you try to get him off you, then spin yourself around with a burst of air until he physically can’t hold on.

He manages to teleport closer to the ground before he makes contact, fortunately, but he still tumbles a fair distance. He pushes himself onto his feet as Wade cackles like a maniac, then disappears from view again.

You’re ready for him this time, and create a vortex of air around you before he can reappear. Sure enough, he gets sucked up in the air currents before he can grab on you; he swears a blue streak –and you know he’s actually swearing because of the grimace that flashes across Piotr’s face—in Russian as he plummets back to the ground.

You smirk, feeling victorious and enormously pleased with yourself, as you watch Mikhail brush chunks of dirt and grass off his arms and legs. “That the best you got?”

He narrows his eyes at you –he’s starting to look a little pissed off, actually—and his eyes start glowing.

“That’s not good,” you mutter to yourself.

And, sure enough, it isn’t.

Bright, glowing strands of copper-colored energy appear at the ends of Mikhail’s hands. He lets them grow into orbs for half a minute –lets them charge up—and then launches one at you.

You let the bolt of energy zing past you –then gasp when it stops in its tracks a few yards away and starts hurtling towards you again. “Shit!”

You’re forced to go on the defensive, using your flight abilities to evade Mikhail’s energy “missiles.” You’re faster than them, fortunately, but he starts peppering the air with various smaller ones, meaning that there’s almost no room to fly at all.

You narrow your eyes down at him as you narrowly avoid having your elbow singed by one of the bolts. Best to target the root instead of the leaves. You fly upwards, make sure that you get yourself positioned so your plan doesn’t backfire suddenly –and then let yourself freefall.

It doesn’t take long to pick up speed. You can actually see Mikhail’s eyes physically widen as you hurtle towards him.

You start flying again mere feet away from the ground. The sudden rush of air created by your move sends a current directly at Mikhail.

He flies back with a grunt and tumbles across the lawn like a hyperactive gymnast.

And, sure enough, some of –not all of them, but enough to prove your theory—the energy orbs fizzle out.

You smirk to yourself as you soar back into the air. Strategy acquired. Goal: kick much ass.

And you do. Even with his ability to teleport, he can’t do that without losing more of his ‘missiles.’ He either has to get knocked around by your constant dive-bombing, or teleport out of the way, and either option puts him at a disadvantage.

You’re winning. You can hear Wade cheering you on from the sidelines. You grin to yourself as you make another pass at Mikhail –he swears as he teleports out of the line of fire—and soar back up towards the sky.

And it’s not that you have to win. You don’t have anything extraordinary to prove. But, by your own admission, you’re too competitive for your own good, and kicking Mikhail’s ass is actually kinda easy—

And then he teleports right in front of you and unleashes a massive burst of energy almost directly in your face.

You’re going too fast to stop or get out of the way in time, so you grit your teeth, make a shield out of air, and hope for the best.

There’s a massive boom that rattles your teeth. You feel yourself get knocked back, but you still feel like you’re flying—

But you can hear someone screaming like they’re watching their kid die in front of them… and it kinda sounds like Piotr…

But you’re still flying? Or, at least you’re still in the air…

Why does your head hurt so much? And why does something smell… burnt?

You manage to open your eyes long enough to see a massive green blur zooming towards you, which you vaguely manage to identify as the back lawn. Oh… shit.

And then a set of arms are wrapping around you.

How you get to the ground is a mystery to you, but suddenly you’re there and your boyfriend’s hovering over you.

Except he’s blurrier than usual. And since when could he make duplicates of himself?

You can see his lips moving, but you can’t really hear what he’s saying.

And suddenly, you’re tired. Straight up exhausted. And your whole body’s kinda numb, which isn’t the most reassuring sensation, but it does mean that if you’re uncomfortable you can’t feel it, and a nap is sounding amazing right now.

You let your eyes close. Just for a minute.

It’s dark. The panes in the windows are an oil slick, dark in solidarity with the night outside.

There’s a single light on in the room, a bedside lamp. It paints the room in a weak gold hue, the only contrast and respite from the oppressive, endless darkness beyond the windows.

The quilt on the bed is cream-colored with age and soft from years of use and washing. Green, yellow, blue, and purple flowers gaze up at you from the fabric surface, the hodge-podge of fabrics almost making the blanket look like it’s rippling.

Beyond the closed door, you can hear voices. They’re hushed, quiet.

Angry.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You can’t possibly imagine the struggles we’ve gone through with her—”

“No. No. Don’t paint yourself as a fucking martyr. You’re the scum of the earth and you know it.”

It’s the door, though, that gives it all away.

What am I doing in my uncle’s house?

“She’s waking up.”

Your eyes flutter open. You wince at the bright lights, the glare of which are not helped by the impeccably white walls.

You’re in the Institute’s medical wing.

Dr. McCoy smiles down at you. “There she is. How are you feeling?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Brain’s bein’ icepicked. Lights’re too brigh’.”

“Let’s get those turned down a bit, then.”

While you wait for the lights to settle on more friendly terms of existence, you realize that someone’s holding your hand. You squeeze the hand holding yours –and it’s instantly recognizable, there’s only one person in the mansion with hands that big.

Piotr kisses your temple gently. “Myshka.”

You tip your head towards him and force yourself to open your eyes.

He looks wrecked. He’s paler than usual, and his blue eyes are rimmed with red.

“Hey.” You squeeze your hand. “Hey. I’m okay.”

He grimaces slightly. “You got hit in face with an energy pulse. If your uncle had not caught you, you would’ve hit the ground.”

You frown as you try to recollect what happened.

Shooting with the Rasputin family. Your uncle. Wade and Nate. Frank. Karen. Check.

Frank and Alex getting into the mother of all sniper shoot-offs, which only stopped because the rest of you forced them to give it up. Check.

Mikhail throwing down the mother of all gauntlets. Check.

And after that… Presumably, something had to happen after that. Specifically, you getting hit in the face, because that’s what Piotr said happened, and you know he wouldn’t lie to you.

“You might not remember all of it,” Hank says as he finishes turning down the lights. “Which is normal with head traumas. Can you walk me through your day, up to most recent thing you remember before waking up here?” He nods as you rattle off the day thus far –you leave out whatever weird dream you had between getting hit and waking up here, because you don’t know how to factor that in or why you can even remember it. “Alright, your recollection’s pretty good. Which is a good sign –and, admittedly, not that surprising since we’ve learned about your latent ‘damage resistance’ mutation.”

You frown suddenly and start patting your face. “I still have my brows, right? Piotr said somethin’ ‘bout gettin’ hit with an energy pulse—”

Dr. McCoy chuckles. “Your eyebrows are present and accounted for.”

“Okay, good. I didn’t wanna figure out how to draw ‘em on.”

“Understandable.” He asks you a few more questions –how much pain are you in, are you feeling any tingling sensations anywhere, do you feel like you can breathe alright—before nodding once more. “Okay. I just need to do a series of test to make sure your body’s handling the trauma alright –just to see how your nervous system is responding to the trauma—and then you should be ready to be discharged.”

After making sure your body isn’t on the verge of imploding, or whatever the fuck else might happen, Hank discharges you with some basic pain meds, a list of symptoms to keep an eye on while you recover, and strict instructions to Piotr to not let you fly or do anything too strenuous for the next few days.

Which basically means you’re gonna be mother-henned for the next few days, but you can’t exactly say you mind. Your head hurts, and you’re still fuzzy from getting hit so hard. Having someone watching your back is comforting, really.

The sun’s still high in the sky as you and Piotr amble back towards the main part of the mansion. Apparently, you’d only been out for twenty minutes. Lucky you.

Everyone’s waiting for the two of you in the rec room –including Frank and Karen, which is surprising but not unwelcome.

Mikhail stands as you walk in, looking a little sheepish—

You squint when you realize he’s got a partially black eye. “Did I do that?”

“Nope!” Wade says, popping the ‘p.’ “Piotr did! Hauled off on him as soon as Fuzzy Lumpkins took you away for a healing session.”

You shoot Piotr shocked look, but he’s focused on Mikhail, borderline glaring at his older brother.

And Mikhail’s glaring right back at him, and suddenly the room’s filled to the brim with crackling tension.

You watch the two of them for a few seconds, then do your best to smooth things out. “O-kay. I’m hungry. Has anyone else eaten yet?”

Nate shakes his head. “We were waiting to hear how you were.”

“Al-right.” You nudge Piotr a little when he doesn’t pick up on the conversational cues –or, more importantly, stop glaring at Mikhail. “Let’s get some lunch, yeah?”

His demeanor shifts instantly as he bends down to kiss the top of your head; it’s almost like he’s a completely different person. “Konechno.”

You purse your lips a little as you follow him to the kitchen. And we’re in full on passive-aggressive mode. Great.

“So, you’re both mutants.”

Your uncle nods at Karen’s statement.

Instead of cramming into the kitchen or the breakfast nook, you’d all opted to use one of the dining rooms used by the students during the school year while you ate lunch. You’d half expected Frank and Karen to leave as soon as they knew you were in decent shape, but they’d opted to at least eat lunch before heading out.

(You’d also half expected Frank to sit away from literally everyone else, but Karen seemed to bring out his best behavior, which –again—is interesting.)

“And you both can fly?” She frowns as she wipes some ketchup from her sandwich off her fingers with a napkin. “I thought the X-gene randomized mutations.”

“It can,” your uncle says with a shrug. “But if there’s a long enough direct lineage, sometimes recurring traits show up.”

“So, the mutation must’ve been in your family for a long time, then.”

“As long as I can remember.”

Karen nods, then smiles. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to fly, all on my own. If I’d woken up one morning, as a little girl, and been able to fly, I don’t think my parents would’ve been able to get me to walk again.”

Admittedly, your initial experience with discovering your powers hadn’t gone as idyllically; not even rose-tinted glasses could change that.

But flying, in and of itself? It’s the most amazing sensation in the world.

You grin—

You’re shivering. You’re under a pile of blankets, and heat is blasting at you from the car’s air vents, and you can’t. Get. Warm.

The ground is rocky and uneven under the car’s tires. It makes you bounce in the back seat, which makes you dizzy. You cry as your stomach churns violently. “I’m gonna throw up!”

“Do not puke in the car!” Your mother’s voice. “Just close your eyes and breathe through your nose.”

You do as you’re told; you keep your mouth screwed shut and try to fall asleep. It’s dark outside, heavy clouds covering the stars and moon and plunging the world into an inky abyss.

The car keeps bouncing you and your stomach. You can feel the bile creeping up your throat.

The car lurches to a stop and the door next to your seat is flung open. Strong hands unbuckle you and lift you out of your car seat.

You puke on the grass. On someone’s shoes.

Your mother panics. “Dammit, Y/N! Don’t—”

“It’s okay.” Your uncle’s voice is shaky, but his hands are gentle as he keeps your hair out of your face. “She’s alright. What happened to her?”

“We tried to fix her—”

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?”

You blink –and you’re in the dining room, and everyone’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Huh?”

Dr. McCoy is kneeling next to you, frowning as he watches your eyes and color. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We… were just talking about flying.” You frown. “That… that just happened.”

“You were gone for ten minutes,” Nate says quietly.

“Even I’m not that bad at keeping track of time,” Wade adds, but his smile is forced at the edges.

A wave of cold dread runs down your spine, and reach blindly for Piotr’s hand. It’s warm and solid against yours, and you try to keep yourself grounded on the sensation of his hand holding yours. Don’t panic. Panicking won’t help anything. “What does it mean?”

Frank clears his throat. “Could mean nothing,” he says quietly. “Blackouts can happen with head injuries.”

Dr. McCoy nods. “I think I’m going to extend your rest period, just as a precaution. And—” he looks over at Piotr “—someone needs to check in with her every hour, just to see how her memory is and how she’s doing. If she has more blackouts, record the symptoms, how long they go for, that sort of thing.”

“Da.” Piotr squeezes your hand, then leans over and kisses your cheek. “Everything will be alright.”

You lay your head on his shoulder by way of response. I really hope so.

Karen and Frank head out right after you all finish lunch –with Frank promising Alex that there’d be a proper rematch in the future.

And, unsurprisingly, Piotr practically whisks you away to get some proper rest as soon as the door shuts behind them. He actually carries you up to your shared room –which you aren’t complaining about because walking is for chumps—and sets you carefully, gently on the bed.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to sleep after getting a concussion,” you ponder.

“That is myth,” he says. “And the healers fixed any concussion you might have had. They just cannot fix temporary trauma from impact.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” You squint your eyes as you mull it over. “I guess.”

He kisses your forehead. “Besides, I mostly brought you up here so you could relax… and so we could spend some time together.”

You smile up at him. “Well, that I’m not opposed to. Can we watch a movie?”

“Konechno.” As he makes to retrieve his DVD case from one of the bookshelves, the main door to your room swings open.

Mikhail peers in. “Am I interrupting?”

“It’s called knocking,” Piotr says bluntly, tone flat. “Try it.”

You actually gape at him. “Babe!”

“It is good manners—”

“Yeah, and what are you doing?”

He actually hangs his head at that, looking like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I…”

Mikhail just holds up his hands. He doesn’t look pleased, but he doesn’t look like he wants to start a fight, either. “I just wanted to apologize.” He offers you a sheepish smile. “For, ah—” He taps the side of his own head. “Doing that.”

You shrug. “Hey, it’s sparring. Accidents happen.”

Piotr lets out an angry huff. “Accidents happen. Ego trips are planned.”

Before you can say anything, Mikhail groans and rolls his eyes. “Again with that! You never give me doubt of benefit! None!”

“Your ego,” Piotr snaps, eyes sparking with anger. “Has caused plenty of problems. Why should this be any different!”

“You think I would try to hurt her?”

“I think you would prioritize winning over common sense!”

Mikhail sneers at his younger brother. “Well, not all of us can be you.”

“Okay, enough,” you growl out. “Both of you.” You sigh and rub your temples –your head’s throbbing, but you suspect it has more to do with listening to them than with your injury. “Babe, would you mind making me some Gatorade while I talk to Mikhail for a minute?”

Piotr just crosses his arms over his chest. “Someone needs to stay with you. To keep track of your symptoms.”

“Are you serious?” Mikhail growls. “I can watch her for five minutes!”

“How do I know I can trust you, after today?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

“Langu—”

“Okay,” you interject sternly. “I swear more than him. Quit being petty.”

Piotr purses his lips and exhales sharply. “I told him not to start sparring—”

“And the two of you need to work out whatever problems you have on your own. I’m not refereeing or watching.” You give Piotr the gentlest pointed look you can. “Sweetheart. Five minutes. Please.”

He grimaces, but nods. “Khorosho.” He crosses the room quickly, then plants a slow, sweet kiss against your forehead. “I’ll be back quickly.”

“She said five minutes, asshole,” Mikhail mutters from his position by the door. His expression sours as Piotr’s shoulder clips his own on his way out –which, despite his size, you can tell was deliberate on your boyfriend’s part—and grumbles something under his breath in Russian before looking at you. “You wanted chatting?”

“Just to make sure we’re good.” You pat on a spot at the end of the bed lightly. “Come on. I don’t bite.”

“I hit you, not other way around,” he points out as he sits down on the bed.

“Look, I might not remember the fight, but I refuse to believe that you just trounced me.”

He laughs at that and relaxes a little. “Da, da. You, ah, ‘kicked my ass,’ as they say here. I seriously underestimated you.” He pauses for a moment, then hangs his head a little. “And pridurok is right. I let ego control me.”

“Okay, one, I know what the Russian word for ‘idiot’ is; Piotr uses it to describe Wade all the time.” You smirk when he grins sheepishly. “Two, whatever ego thing you’ve got it fine, at least in this situation. Sparring’s sparring. I know that whenever I step into a fight, I run the risk of getting hurt. I didn’t think this situation would be any different.”

Mikhail frowns. “But… if I had kept in better check—”

“Look, Mikhail,” you say earnestly. “Were you trying to hurt me?”

He shakes his head. “Nyet. Absolutely not.”

“Then we’re good, in my book. Trust me, I’ve had a lot worse for way pettier reasons.”

He eyes you warily. “So… you are not upset?”

You shake your head –well, as much as you can, anyway. “Not about the sparring. If I’m upset about anything, honestly, it’s about how you treat Piotr.”

He grimaces. “Things… have never been good between he and I. We… we do not see eyes to eyes on many things.”

“I gathered. You seem to go out of your way to antagonize him.”

The grimace deepens. “I know. I… I do not always know how to stop it.” He smiles bitterly. “Piotr has always gotten along better with everyone. Mamochka, papochka, Illyana, cousins, girls, boys –everyone. I think…” He winces and swallows hard. “I think I am just too sensitive.”

You study him for a minute before commenting. “I’d wager you’ve got some insecurities to work on, but I think your ‘sensitivity levels’ are just fine.”

He manages a small smile at that. “Spasibo.”

There’s a series of heavy footsteps in the hallway, and then Piotr’s walking back into the room with a water bottle full of Gatorade in hand. He stops just past the door way, clearly a little caught off guard by his brother’s new position in the room.

Mikhail nods at you and stands quickly before Piotr can say anything. “I leave you to it.”

You shake your head, just a little, as he vanishes from view. “I’m never going to get used to that.” You accept your bottle of Gatorade from your boyfriend with a smile. “Thanks, honey.”

He returns to the task of retrieving his DVD case, but it’s not hard to tell something’s on his mind.

“I can hear you thinking, you know.”

He huffs a little laugh at that. “I thought my sister was supposed to be telepath, not you.”

You humor him with a small, fond chuckle. “C’mon, babe. What’s eating at you?”

He grimaces as he crosses back over to the bed and sits down next to you. “I was not… fair. To Mikhail.”

“Yeah, you were kind of an asshole to him. What is it with you two, anyway? You’ve been at each other’s throats since he got here.”

Piotr’s lips quirk into a puzzled frown as he runs his fingertips over the DVD case cover. “Mikhail and I… we are oil and water. We have never gotten along. I think he is arrogant and careless, he says I am controlling and judgmental…”

They’re both right, to an extent, you think to yourself.

Piotr exhales heavily, and his eyes take on a glassy look that tips you off to the fact that he’s recalling some really unpleasant memories. “Mikhail… when we were younger, he used to tease me until I gave him what he wanted. Or I snapped. Or he would put me in uncomfortable, dangerous situations to get a rise out of me…”

You reach out and curl your fingers around his hand.

He smiles, just a little, and lifts your hand to his lips so he can kiss it. “Where I grow puzzled is… I can remember times when he would be… subdued. Gloomy. And during these times, I know we got on better. And then he would get back to his wild self and teasing would start all over.”

You squeeze his hand comfortingly. “Look, babe, I’m not gonna pretend I’ve got all the answers to this situation. I didn’t grow up with siblings –and Wade, as awesome as he is, doesn’t exactly fill the ticket for direct knowledge in this sorta thing. But, if there’s anything you need to do, it’s actually communicate with Mikhail instead of letting him walk all over you until you snap. You need to set boundaries.”

“I have tried,” Piotr insists. “He just ignores them.”

“Then you need to enforce them,” you add on. “Look, sweetheart, you’re great at talking a good game, but you’re shitty with the follow-through. Case in point, Wade. You like to talk healthy behavior with him, but eight times out of ten you don’t actually enforce any of the boundaries you talk about having.”

“Killing people—”

“Isn’t what I’m talking about, Piotr. The jokes, the language, the pranks. Yeah, Wade’s an adult and can do what he wants, but so are you. Look, what I’m trying to say is that you need to talk to Mikhail, and then you need to stick to your guns if he tries to ignore your boundaries. And if he keeps doing that, then maybe you just need to give him the heave-ho.”

Piotr hangs his head a little. “It is not that simple.”

“Sorry.” You wriggle over to him and wrap your arms around his waist. “I wish I could help more.”

“You have helped immensely.” He kisses your forehead. “You called me out on my poor behavior, and you have given me much to consider.” He kisses your cheek, then your lips, then taps the DVD case with his hand. “How about we watch movie now, da?”

You smile up at him. “Sounds great.”

“So. I have question. What qualifies as ‘worse’ than unyielding concussion?”

“Severe,” Alexandra corrects from where she’s chopping vegetables for dinner. “Not ‘unyielding.’”

After relaxing for a few hours, Piotr had agreed that you’d be fine to hang out during dinner prep.

Key words being ‘hang out,’ seeing as he’s banned you from all knife-and-heat related duties until you stop having blackouts.

At any rate, you’re in the kitchen with Piotr’s family, Wade, Nate, your uncle, and your darling boyfriend, perched on one of the barstools while everyone else works on getting dinner together.

(Correction: everyone else sans Wade because Wade is also banned from dinner prep duties; unlike you, however, his ban is indefinite for reasons Piotr refuses to mention and Wade laughs too hard make elaborating possible whenever you ask.)

Mikhail jerks at her with his thumb. “That. And does it have anything to do with the ‘episodes?’”

Piotr goes ramrod straight so fast it’s a shock he doesn’t hurt himself. The look he shoots his older brother is beyond murderous.

You hold up your hands in a placating gesture before he can verbally –or literally, it’s anyone’s guess at this point—rip Mikhail’s head off. “It’s alright, he can ask. And… uh, I guess it does? I don’t know. It’s a little complicated.”

“Does it have to do with why your parents are not present?” Illyana pipes up.

“I guess?” You let out a slightly nervous laugh and shrug. “It’s… uh… really complicated to explain. I’m not exactly on speaking terms with them. With anyone where I grew up, actually.”

Nikolai frowns. “No ‘old friends?’ Classmates?”

You shake your head. “My mom schooled me at home. I spent most of my life inside the same four walls. I, uh, grew up in an anti-mutant town.”

“Nyet,” Mikhail says, forehead wrinkling. “That does not make sense. You are mutant. Why would your parents… not just move once you presented?”

You grimace. “They’re anti-mutant, too.”

“But… you are mutant and their child.”

And it strikes you that none of the Rasputin children can relate to what you’ve gone through. They grew up in a home where their differences were celebrated –where they were even modeled for them by Alexandra.

“It’s not always enough,” your uncle supplies after a moment of tense silence. “Some people value their beliefs more than those around them.”

“Why not let you live with him?” Illyana points at your uncle. “You are both mutants. It would make sense.”

“I was never in a position to raise a kid,” your uncle says grimly –which gets a sharp look from Alex, but she doesn’t question him.

“I doubt they would’ve let me go, anyway,” you say with a bitter smile. “I tried running away from home. A lot.”

“What happened?” Mikhail asked. “Obviously, they did not let you go…”

You shrug when his voice trails off. “Got hunted through the woods by men with guns until they caught me and dragged me back to town. Or I accidentally killed them; I had a lot of trouble controlling my mutation when I was younger.”

Alex actually drops her knife. “They did that you? They really…”

Nikolai’s eyes get shiny. “Who… who does that to a child?”

“The people from where I grew up, apparently.” You shrug with one shoulder. “I’m just glad it’s behind me.”

“What about ‘episodes?’” Illyana blurts out. “You said they connected?”

You tap your fingers against the countertop. Talking about your past has never been easy, and right now’s no exception. At least they aren’t blaming me for what happened. “Sometimes, I have hallucinations about the shit that happened to me where I grew up. It’s like I’m actually back there, going through all of it again. When that happens, I break from reality and lose control of my powers.”

Illyana darts around to the other side of the counter and wraps her arms around your shoulders. “That sounds scary.”

You smile and pat her forearm. “It can be. But I’m getting better. And I’ve got tools to help me get through them.”

The kitchen stays silent for a moment, then Mikhail clears his throat and braces himself against the counter on his elbows. “I think… all of that is definitely worse than concussion.”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I—”

You’re shaking so hard you can’t walk. Your legs keep giving out with every step you take.

Gravel crunches underneath your sneakers. Little ladybugs light up red and pink on the side, though they don’t do much to abate the suffocating darkness.

You’re sweating, like you’ve been sitting in a hot room all day, but you feel cold. And you can’t stop shaking.

Your father’s hand is a vice on your arm. “Quit dawdling! We need to go!”

“I’m trying! My legs feel weird!”

“Don’t talk back to me—”

Your mother shoves you into your car seat and forcefully buckles you in. “Start the car. I’ve got her.”

Her voice is calm, which must mean everything’s alright, right?

You blink, and you’re keeled over on the lawn outside your uncle’s house, puking up everything in your guts and then some.

You can hear him screaming. He’s angry.

“What did you do? What did you fucking do?”

You start crying. Tears fall onto the blades of glass, glittering like stars. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He scoops you up into his arms and runs into his house with you. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault, I’ve got you.”

You blink again, and everything seems fuzzy. Something’s pressing against your arm, and several hands are holding you against something soft and warm.

“We need to stabilize her—”

“Her brain’s been gouged with the psychic equivalent of a serving fork, there’s no stabilizing that.”

“Find a fucking way or you’re out of a fucking job!”

Your head hurts. Your chest hurts. Your everything hurts.

You try and try to squirm away from the ache.

A pair of massive hands press against each side of your head, holding you in place. “It’s okay.” Your uncle’s voice. “I know it hurts, and it’s scary, but it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Her heart rate’s going nuts.”

“We need to stem the signals being sent out by her brain.”

“Get me some anesthetic. This’ll be easier if she’s asleep.”

“Myshka?”

You blink, and you’re back in the kitchen, cradled in Piotr’s arms. “When did I get on the floor?”

“You stopped talking mid-sentence and fell over.” His face is creased with worry. “Did you black out?”

“I guess. I mean—”

“Nyet,” Illyana rejects. “Her brain was retrieving memories, not stopping all processing.”

“She broke from reality,” Wade surmises, eyes widening. “In seconds.”

“We need to get her back to Dr. McCoy,” Nate says, standing abruptly.

Piotr lifts your off the floor and starts carrying towards the medical wing of the house. “Agreed.”

You’re trying to be calm. The embodiment of zen. The living definition of chill.

But between the mutation repression collar around your neck, the wires and sticky ‘nodes’ stuck to your forehead, and the knowledge that you’ve been breaking from reality with no warning, you’re not having much luck with it.

Piotr squeezes your hand as fat tears roll down your cheeks. “Tische, tische. Deep breaths, moya lyubov’.”

You draw in an uneven breath. “I’m scared.”

Piotr just kisses your forehead. You know he’s scared too, he’s just better at game-facing that you are. “Professor Xavier is very experienced with psychic therapy. If anyone can help, it is him.”

“Yeah, but I’m breaking from reality without warning now,” you whimper. “What if whatever I’ve got is getting worse? Or the hit I took made it worse? What if—”

“Deep breath, myshka. Please.” He rubs his thumb in slow circles against the back of your hand, but there’s no missing the tears that well up in his eyes. “Speculating helps nothing now.”

Before you can spiral again, Professor Xavier and Alyssa walk –well, Alyssa walks, Xavier rolls—into the room.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Alyssa sits down on the bed next to you and clasps your hand warmly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Scared,” you admit tearfully. “Really scared.”

“I bet. You’re dealing with some big stuff right now. Let’s see if we can get some answers for you, alright?”

“Have you found anything noteworthy in your scans, Hank?” Charles asks.

Dr. McCoy shakes his head. “No. There aren’t any signs of any injuries or abnormalities that might explain the hallucinations.”

“Illyana said that I was accessing memories,” you pipe up. “But… I don’t remember these. I mean, I do now that I’ve seen them, but they’re not anything I’ve gone through before.”

“How many new sets of memories can you recall?” Professor Xavier asks as he folds his hands over his lap. He frowns as you run him through everything you can recall –from waking up in the bed and hearing the argument, to throwing up on your uncle’s shoes, to most recent set of mix-matched recollections—then glances over at Alyssa. “Could she be accessing repressed memories?”

“That would explain why she doesn’t remember seeing them before,” Alyssa says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Try doing a scan of her mind. See if you can find anything.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I hate this part. It always feels so weird.”

Professor Xavier chuckles. “I will endeavor to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

You do your best to brace yourself, but the sensation of Xavier entering your mind still makes a shudder run down your spine.

Piotr squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Try to relax as much as you can.”

You grit your teeth. “I know, I know.”

Everything’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of the heart monitor Hank hooked up to you. Then, in a voice with too much underlying urgency to be comforting, Xavier asks “Y/N, are you completely certain that you’ve never had an encounter with a telepath before coming to the Institute?”

“Not as far as I know. Why?”

“I’m seeing a great deal of psychic scarring that was blocked from view before,” Xavier says, voice tense. “It’s extremely old, from the looks of it.”

A chill runs down your spine. “So what does that mean?”

“I’m… not sure yet.”

You crack one eye open and stare at him. “Not sure?”

He purses his lips. “Until we can ascertain what incident your formerly repressed memories are attached to, I cannot be certain about the nature of the scarring and how much it might impact your mind.”

“Are we gonna have to clear out the rest of the block?” Alyssa asks.

“I believe, given the nature of the blackouts and the lack of warning that accompanies them, we have no other option.”

You swallow hard. “What do you mean ‘clear out?’”

“We would go in and release whatever memories are being held back by the block in order to figure out how extensive the scarring is on your mind,” Xavier explains.

You can’t help but tremble. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”

Xavier sighs. “You have the right to deny treatment, of course, but I am genuinely concerned for your health. Given that you lose all control of your physical faculties, the risk of your being seriously injured during a blackout is quite high. For your sake, I would urge you to accept the treatment.”

Your lower lip quivers as you look over at Piotr. “I’m scared.”

He scoots his chair closer to your bed and takes both your hands in his. “I will be right here for whole time.”

“You’ve got the collar on, too,” Alyssa says as she pats your arm. “You’re not at risk of hurting anyone else.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and look over at Professor Xavier. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Physically, no, though the memories recovered may cause a great deal of emotional distress.”

“You’ve got Piotr here, and me, and your family is waiting outside,” Alyssa reminds you gently. “And you’re in a much better place than when you first came here. You can get through this.”

You give her a watery look. “Would you say something if I couldn’t?”

She nods. “If I didn’t think you could make it through this in one piece, we’d figure out a different way.”

You take a deep breath, then nod. “Alright. Balls to the wall. Let’s do this.”

Professor Xavier nods back. “You will likely be more comfortable if you relax your body and close your eyes.”

You settle back against the bed, taking the time you need to get your pillow and blanket adjusted. Once you’re comfortable –and don’t have anything else to stall with—you look over at Piotr.

He kisses your forehead. “It will be okay. I will not go anywhere. I promise.”

You nod, take a deep breath, and squeeze your eyes shut.

The house is small, out in the middle of nowhere. It’s stark white against the stormy sky, with gray shutters and a tar black roof. The windows glint in their settings as the sun strains past the clouds in bits and pieces. An immaculate grass lawn stretches out all around it, with red and gold poppies lining the walk up to the front porch.

You’ve never felt the need to run more in your life, but your mother’s hand is latched onto yours, unrelenting. “Mommy, why are we here?”

Your mother doesn’t answer, just marches behind your father, yanking you with as they walk up the steps to the house and ring the doorbell.

A pretty but otherwise average young woman opens the door. “Come in. I assume you brought everything I asked you to.”

“Yes,” your mother says crisply. “How long will this take?”

“About half an hour, start to finish. Have you dosed her yet?”

“Before we left home,” your father answers.

“Good. Bring her to the bed.”

There’s a bed sitting in the far corner of the back room. It has railings on the side, like a hospital bed. Loose straps and restraints lay across the mattress.

You dig your heels in. “No! No, I don’t wanna lie down! No!”

Your father lifts you off the ground and carries you over, ignoring your kicking and screaming. He holds you down by your shoulders while your mother and the other lady strap you onto the bed.

You thrash and strain against the straps, but without your powers there’s no point. You’re not going anywhere.

The other lady moves to the head of the bed and places her hands on each side of your face. “I’ll begin now.”

And then, agony.

Is.

All.

You.

Know.

White hot. Consuming. It burns through you as you scream and scream and scream.

Maybe it lasts for an hour. Or maybe five minutes. Or maybe time just stops altogether. You can’t process anything outside of the blinding pain wracking your body.

At some point it stops, and then you’re being unbound. You sit up, shaking all over.

“She is perfected,” the other lady says.

Your mother kneels in front of you, smiling expectantly. “How are you feeling?”

You lift your gaze to look at her as tears continue trickling down your cheeks. You breathe in—

And then the room explodes as you scream.

Your eyes snap open.

You’re back in the medical wing room.

You’re back with Piotr.

You’re safe.

Piotr leans towards you as you press a hand against your mouth. “Myshka? What is it? What’s wrong?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and start crying.

It takes time for you to get it all out. You get halfway through the story, then decide that you’d rather tell everyone at once and ask for yours and Piotr’s families to be brought in.

When you were seven, your parents caught wind of there being a woman who could “cure” mutants by telepathically removing their mutations.

Your parents, being the people they were, decided to ask her to “cure” you.

And reality, being what it is, meant that her operation was one big sham. As soon as you’d been unrestrained, you decimated the entire house with a sonic scream.

Afterwards, the side effects of the treatment started showing themselves. Instead of repressing your mutation, the telepathic woman had caused you severe brain damage.

You were dying.

Not wanting to deal with a dead child on their hands, your parents had taken you to your uncle’s and demanded he heal you.

And he had. He’d called in a lot of favors to do it, but he did.

“And you sent her back home to them,” Wade says once you finish, glaring at your uncle. “I’m sorry, but what in the actual fuck!”

“It’s not that simple, Wade,” you argue tiredly.

“Oh, but it is! If I can kill a guy with a Zamboni, this is that simple!”

“Do you really think if I’d had any choice, I’d have let her go back with them?” your uncle growls.

“Wade,” you interject softly before your adoptive brother can respond. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t defend him if I didn’t think he deserved it.”

Wade relents at that and sits down, expression melancholy as the indignation rushes out of him. “Man. Your parents are fucked up.”

Across the room, Alexandra is wiping tears off her cheeks. “What mother does that to her own child?”

Nikolai just shakes his head and says something in Russian in a trembling voice.

Piotr stays with you that night, cramming into your bed with you on your request despite the fact that a cot had been brought in for him. He keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing intermittent kisses to the crown of your head as the two of you sit in silence. Between his shock over the whole situation and the fact that you can’t really get more than two sentences into any conversation before you start crying, there’s not much to be said.

He starts rubbing your back when you start sobbing anew. “Tische, moya dusha. Everything is okay.”

You press your face against his chest as you bawl. “P-promise me –promise me w-we’ll never do anything like that to our kids. N-not just m-mutation stuff, b-but even if they’re –if they’re disabled, or autistic, or—”

His arms tighten around you, encircling you completely. “Konechno. They will always be loved, regardless of whatever comes with them.”

(Later, after you’ve been discharged from the medical wing, you’ll realize that he could’ve been offended that you’d even think that he’d hold any sort of condition against a child of yours and his, but instead chose to accept your fear for what it was and reassure you that the two of you would always –will always—do right by whatever children you have.

You’ll start crying again when you do.)

…

You come to with a sharp inhalation several hours later. Your eyes are sore from crying so much, and your bed is noticeably Piotr-less.

Alexandra is seated on a chair next to your bed. She cringes when she realizes you’re awake. “D’ermo. We thought you would sleep much longer than this.”

You frown sleepily. “Where’s Piotr?”

“Nikolai and I had him go stretch out in his own bed for a bit. We figured we would get him up in a few hours, before you woke up.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past six AM.”

You grimace. “Fuck.”

She smirks. “I was never a morning person, either. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. Nothing’s hurting. Trying to sleep with these fucking wires all over my head is a little annoying, though.”

“And emotionally?”

You frown a little –you didn’t think you had any tears left in your body, but your eyes are already welling up—and hug the blanket against your chest. “Sad. And angry. And just…”

Alexandra gently puts her hand on yours when your voice trails off. “Maybe this is not my place to say… but you ought to be proud of yourself. And I know things will process in time, but you have been through so much, and yet you have not lost your compassion, your kindness, your joy. You are incredibly strong, Y/N. Don’t forget that, in all this revelation.”

You give her a small smile. “Thank you. And I’m trying to process stuff out and give myself time, but… I don’t know. I know I went through a lot, but I know my uncle and you –or people like Wade, and Nate, and even Frank—have gone through so much worse. I guess when I think about all of that, my stuff doesn’t seem like it was that big a deal.”

Alex shakes her head. “The point of surviving trauma is not so we can compare our scars to others’ and decide who has had it worst by the marks left behind. The point of surviving is so that we can be compassionate towards others who are still enduring their own struggles, and so we can help them make sure they swim towards the surface, rather than down.”

“Wow. That’s… that’s really deep. And inspiring.”

She smiles. “I cannot take credit; Nikolai said it, not me.”

You smile back. “He seems like a wonderful man. I see a lot of him in Piotr.”

“Nikolai is the light of my world,” Alex agrees. “I would not be who I am now without him.”

“I know I wouldn’t be who I am without Piotr, either.”

She’s quiet for a minute, then she squeezes your hand gently. “For what it’s worth, I think I would be very lucky to have you as a daughter –or, daughter-in-law, I suppose. Whenever you and medvezhonok decide the time is right.”

You try to smile at her –because she’s being sweet and you really do appreciate the sentiment—but you wind up crying instead.

You’ve already found replacements for your father in Nate and your uncle, but this is the first time you’ve had a motherly figure say you’d make a good daughter, and it’s making you emotional, dammit.

Fortunately, Alexandra seems neither startled or perturbed by your sudden outburst of tears. Instead, she simply moves from her chair to the edge of your bed, puts her arms around your shoulders, and presses a motherly kiss to the top of your head. “Tische, malen'kaya ptitsa. It’s okay.”

You wind up spending three days in the medical wing. Fortunately, between yours and Piotr’s respective families, you’re never left wanting for company or entertainment.

You also learn the hard way never to play Poker with Wade, Alex, your uncle, and Mikhail, because you will lose so badly, holy shit.

You also (also) learn that Illyana can, in fact, shred faster on her violin than Mikhail can on his guitar, which is great.

Piotr’s a constant presence by your side while you’re confined to your bed in the medical wing. He squeezes into bed with you at night, and during the day he does different art practices while sitting next to your bed.

Despite the constant stream of people and comfort, you’re still going out of your mind. You’ve stopped blacking out, which –as far as you’re concerned—means that you ought to be free to galivant around the mansion as you damn well please.

Fortunately, by mid-morning on the fourth day, Dr. McCoy, Professor Xavier, and Alyssa finally agree with you.

“Oh thank Cthulhu!” You yank the sticky pads the wires had been attached to off your forehead before the healer working with you can lift a hand to help. “I thought I was gonna go insane!”

Professor Xavier chuckles as you try to vacate the bed as fast as possible. “Before you wander off, there is one more piece of information we need to share with you. We believe we have a working diagnosis for your episodes.”

You freeze halfway through getting out of bed. You stare at Xavier for a moment, then blindly reach for Piotr’s hand.

He squeezes your hand in his. “What did you find?”

“Well, the blackouts were specifically caused by the combination of the head injury and the repressed memories coming to the surface,” Hank starts. “We’re not exactly sure why they manifested the way they did, but I’m confident that Y/N’s in the clear now, considering she’s been without incident for the past seventy-two hours. As for the episodes, we’re all in agreement that the psychic scarring caused your traumatic memories to manifest as hallucinations.”

“Now that we know what’s been causing the hallucinations,” Alyssa adds, “we believe that medicating your anxiety, continuing with counselling to help you process your childhood trauma, and regular telepathic therapy should get your episodes mostly –if not completely—under control.”

You stare at all of them. You can barely breathe. You almost can’t believe it.

A diagnosis. A treatment plan.

A fucking answer.

We could get married now, you realize. We finally know what’s going on. Piotr and I can get married.

You barely have to look at Piotr to know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

You start crying. After years of not knowing what was wrong with you, you finally have answer –and a way to deal with your issues, an actual plan.

You practically fling yourself into Piotr’s lap. When you wrap your arms around his neck –and he wraps his arms around you—you realize he’s crying, too.

The future’s never looked so bright.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #frank castle x karen page #holy shit my hands are so tired #i need to ice them or something #tw: child abuse #tw: vomit #tw: head injury #angst angst angst #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

110 notes · View notes

motherfucker-somewhat-limited · 5 years ago

Note

1: Name

Sarah

2: Age

3: Fears

Everything, I have anxiety

4: 3 things I love

Dogs, weird movies, sunsets over water

5: 4 turns on

Long hair, facial piercings, good sense of humor, back muscles

6: 4 turns off

Poor hygiene, rude to service workers, adults who are still obsessed with Disney to the point where they make it a personality trait, Trump supporters (or the equivalent in other countries)

7: My best friend

@wanderingwondererofthings

8: Sexual orientation

Bi? I think? IDK not straight tho

9: My best first date

I’ve only ever been on one date in my life and the dude ghosted me afterward which turned out to be a blessing bc it was not a good time in my life to try to start a relationship

10: How tall am I

5′2″

11: What do I miss

Mental stability

12: What time were I born

3:45 am or thereabouts

13: Favourite color

black

14: Do I have a crush

celebrity crushes but I don’t really count those

15: Favourite quote

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

16: Favourite place

bundled up under a heap of blankets by myself in a dark room with good snacks and a good book/movie

17: Favourite food

chocolate

18: Do I use sarcasm

do i

19: What am I listening to right now

my housemate doing laundry

20: First thing I notice in new person

what they’re wearing

21: Shoe size

womens 7

22: Eye color

brown

23: Hair color

brown

24: Favourite style of clothing

love that goth shit

25: Ever done a prank call?

not that i can remember

26: Meaning behind my URL

adam darski’s true form

27: Favourite movie

Ink (2009) dir. jamin winans

28: Favourite song

UHHHHHHHHHHH

29: Favourite band

Eluveitie

30: How I feel right now

like shit lol

31: Someone I love

My friends

32: My current relationship status

single

33: My relationship with my parents

it’s good and i’m very grateful

34: Favourite holiday

the day after halloween when all the candy goes on sale

35: Tattoos and piercing I have

none

36: Tattoos and piercings I want

seriously considering getting my eyebrow pierced soon. if I ever cut my hair short i’ll pierce my ears

37: The reason I joined Tumblr

to follow an art blog that made amazing JTHM fan art

38: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

what ex

39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

yeah from my mom

40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

yeah it was my mom

41: When did I last hold hands?

yesterday with my grandma

42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

takes me well over an hour to actually get up but then like 3o minutes tops

43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

44: Where am I right now?

in my room

45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

i’ve never been that drunk because i hate hangovers

46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

reasonable level unless i’m at a concert

47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

not anymore

48: Am I excited for anything?

sexy eggman is coming to san francisco

49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

50: How often do I wear a fake smile?

basically whenever i have to talk to strangers

51: When was the last time I hugged someone?

yesterday

52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

my mom is allowed to kiss other people it’s okay

53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

i don’t think so?

54: What is something I disliked about today?

i’m tired of being tired

55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

my soulmate

56: What do I think about most?

spirals of existential dread

57: What’s my strangest talent?

I have no talents lol

58: Do I have any strange phobias?

going down stairs. i’m fine going up them but going down them freaks me out

59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

depends on my mood and whether or not i’m ugly that day

60: What was the last lie I told?

“I’m okay”

61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

In person or don’t fucking talk to me

62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

yes and yes

63: Do I believe in magic?

idk. i believe there’s things that happen that we can’t explain yet so maybe that’s magic

64: Do I believe in luck?

i believe in good chances

65: What’s the weather like right now?

dark

66: What was the last book I’ve read?

The Habitation of the Blessed by Catherynne Valente

67: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

yes as long as i don’t have a headache or stomachache

68: Do I have any nicknames?

just dumb shit my mom calls me

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

worst acute injury was the time i tripped onto an outdoor heater in kindergarten and burned the shit out of my hand. i also have a stress fracture in my spine that will never heal from gymnastics but that happened over a matter of years

70: Do I spend money or save it?

i try to save but i spend a little too much

71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

with a tongue? yes. with my tongue? no

72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

my fluffy pillow

73: Favourite animal?

take a wild fucking guess

74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

trying unsuccessfully to sleep

75: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

Columbus

76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

That Time of the Month by Harley Poe

77: How can you win my heart?

be a dog

78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

ceci n’est pas un corps

79: What is my favorite word?

sussuration or cathedral

80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

this is the internet equivalent of the judgment of paris

81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

eat the rich

82: Do I have any relatives in jail?

not currently

83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

shapeshifting bitch

84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

i’ll say anything on the internet i don’t give a shit

85: What is my current desktop picture?

86: Had sex?

87: Bought condoms?

88: Gotten pregnant?

89: Failed a class?

yeah, fuck ochem

90: Kissed a boy?

91: Kissed a girl?

92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

93: Had job?

i’ve got one right now

94: Left the house without my wallet?

yeah lol

95: Bullied someone on the internet?

96: Had sex in public?

97: Played on a sports team?

i ran track for a couple years as a kid

98: Smoked weed?

yup

99: Did drugs?

100: Smoked cigarettes?

ew no

101: Drank alcohol?

yuppers

102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

103: Been overweight?

104: Been underweight?

yes

105: Been to a wedding?

yes

106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

only 5?

107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

only 5??

108: Been outside my home country?

yes

109: Gotten my heart broken?

yes but not romantically

110: Been to a professional sports game?

many

111: Broken a bone?

nope

112: Cut myself?

not on purpose

113: Been to prom?

yeah and it sucked and i wish i hadn’t gone

114: Been in airplane?

yes

115: Fly by helicopter?

no but I want to

116: What concerts have I been to?

a multitude

117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

yeah lol

118: Learned another language?

can I give this one a half a yes?

119: Wore make up?

yup

120: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

121: Had oral sex?

122: Dyed my hair?

yes

123: Voted in a presidential election?

yes

124: Rode in an ambulance?

125: Had a surgery?

do wisdom teeth count?

126: Met someone famous?

yup, holla atcha doug jones

127: Stalked someone on a social network?

no, i don’t care that much

128: Peed outside?

who hasn’t?

129: Been fishing?

130: Helped with charity?

i’ve donated some money

131: Been rejected by a crush?

yeah but a) I never actually asked him out, b) we were 12, and c) turns out he’s gay so like i’m not made about it

132: Broken a mirror?

133: What do I want for birthday?

a new laptop

134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

why would i want kids

135: Was I named after anyone?

my great uncle and great grandmother

136: Do I like my handwriting?

i have no opinion on it

137: What was my favourite toy as a child?

legos or something similar you can build with

138: Favourite Tv Show?

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

139: Where do I want to live when older?

somewhere near the ocean

140: Play any musical instrument?

i wish

141: One of my scars, how did I get it?

i only have acne scars and those are pretty self-explanatory

142: Favourite pizza toping?

sausage, bell pepper, and onion

143: Am I afraid of the dark?

144: Am I afraid of heights?

sometimes

145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

no, i’m a good girl

146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end

yeah, FUCK OCHEM

147: What I’m really bad at

being a functioning human adult person

148: What my greatest achievments are

not killing myself in college

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

idk man i get upset by everything even when it’s not mean

150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

pay off my friends’ and family’s debts, set aside a big chunk of money for grad school, maybe get my own place depending on how much is left

151: What do I like about myself

i have nice hair

152: My closest Tumblr friend

idk

153: Something I fantasise about

what don’t i fantasize about

154: Any thoughts on the paranormal?

hey demons come and get y’all juice

#asks

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lids-flutter-open · 6 years ago

Text

James orsino -goth gay YA ch 5

“Hey,” Orsino said. He was smiling at me. “Nice to see you. James, right?”

“And you’re Orsino.”

“I’m Robin,” said a girl with good skin and short hair in a flat-top. She looked like a panel from a 1980s lesbian comic. “I’m Orsino’s sister.”

“Hi,” I said. “Does anyone want weed?”

They did. We smoked and January talked to Ian. I didn’t get all of what they said, but Ian was glowing. Overhead the trees dropped a few leaves and some of the pine needles from the scrubby little pine tree by the house blew over the yard and into the bonfire, sparking as they went. There were at least fifty people at the show. Probably more, inside the house and around in front where they weren’t meant to be. People were slowly trickling back around the edges of the show space in the garage, waiting for the temperature inside to finally get cool enough to repopulate.

“So are you from around here?” I asked Orsino. “Or where?” I had given him a joint I’d rolled earlier and been carrying around in my cigarette case. He coughed a lot as he smoked.

“Down south about an hour,” Orsino said. “Near Centralia, kind of. But most of the time lately I live up in Tacoma with Robin and January. My dad owns some cows and a chicken farm and my mom is always fighting with him and it’s bad to be around. You?”

“I’m from here,” I said. “I’m in high school. One of the ones near the farms. It’s all rednecks. No gays really.”

“You go to that Compton House thing?” Orsino asked. “I know that’s like, a big thing for gay kids here. My therapist was trying to get me to go since I didn’t like the trans group in Tacoma.”

“I go,” I said. “I’m on the Speakers’ Bureau doing sex education at schools and public organizations and stuff.”

“Oh,” Orsino said. He waggled his eyebrows. “You know a lot about sex then?” He exhaled some of the smoke from his joint into my face and smiled.

“In the public health sense, anyway,” I said. “I know where to get condoms and free dental dams.” I paused. I really wanted to say something flirtatious, but wasn’t sure what to start with. “And I know from Delaney and Genet and White for the rest, though who knows what I’m missing in that sense.” I could feel my hands reach up and touch the bad little patch of stubble on my neck. I wished there was a mirror or a dark window around I could glance into to make sure I didn’t look like a fool. I crossed my legs and turned more towards Orsino.

“Don’t know who those guys are,” Orsino smirked. His eyes were really dark brown and the firelight was sort of reflected there. I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me for the references or making fun of me for doing sex education as a teenager like some kind of Young Democrat. I didn’t know his vibe enough to tell.

“They’re all older. Delaney’s the one you’re supposed to read, I’m pretty sure,” I said. “Or at least, he’s the one most likely to have been read by hot people, from what I can tell.”

“Oh, it’s a book,” said Orsino.

“He’s an author,” I said. “Samuel Delaney. Chip Delaney. Time Square Red, Time Square Blue. Science fiction and sexy gay memoir. Never mind. I’m stoned. I’m sorry.”

“He writes about sex and taught you sex, is what you’re saying.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he write about like specific kinks you were trying to communicate to me or something?”

I felt my face grow hot. “Public bathrooms,” I said. “Is one thing he’s very into. Not that I am. Unless you are. But that’s not—it’s just his prose.”

“Do you always give a … what’s it called. A bibliography. Do you always do that when someone asks you about sex?”

“Do you always ask boys about sex two seconds after meeting them?”

“Only when they’re hot,” Orsino said. “Then yeah, I do. Sorry, I can’t read social cues well. Was that out of line?”

“No.”

“You didn’t answer the question. You go around give out bibliographies about sex? Like that pink hair lady who draws that weird comic about sex toys online?”

“You’re the one named fucking Orsino,” I said. “Literary references are something you signed up for.” I took a hit from my pipe. I was starting to feel slightly more comfortable, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. I glanced at Orsino’s hands. The nails were short. His pinky nail on his left hand was painted black but none of the other fingernails were. There was a little stick-and-poke of a rabbit on the back of his right hand.

“Maybe I should change it,” he said. “To something butch. I can be Harry. Or Brandon.”

“A trade name,” I said.

“A farm boy name.”

“Brandon is a G.O.P candidate name.”

“Now that’s trade.”

“What music do you like, Brandon?”

“Well, I’m here. OVID’s good. January can be a bitch a little bit, but it’s good music. And I like Dyke Drama and G.L.O.S.S, obviously. And LOONE. But also Mitski. And Blood Kennel and Limp Wrist and Dick Binge. But I also like The Shins.”

“My dad likes The Shins,” I said. “I have like a gag reflex about The Shins.” I could hear my voice, catty and faggy. “They’re such a dad band. How old are you, anyway?”

“Eighteen,” Orsino said.

“Okay. Well, for an eighteen-year-old you sure like dad bands.”

“It’s good music,” Orsino said. “You gotta listen to the lyrics. What about you?”

“I only listen to Ariana Grande,” I said, smirking at him stupidly and fluttering my eyelashes. I might have been being dumb, but he was still smiling at me, so I wanted to try being bolder. “And Gaga. I literally only listen to Just Dance by Lady Gaga and Pete Davidson by Ariana Grande every single day of my life. On repeat. I hate punk music.”

“Oh, really,” Orsino said in a flat-affect kind of voice. “You must be having a really interesting time here tonight then.”

“It’s really funny music,” I said. “And nobody is wearing platform boots or a rainbow pin or jewels or teal hair or anything.”

“I saw someone with teal hair,” Orsino said.

“That was me, actually. Earlier. I came with teal hair and an Ariana Grande tour shirt and changed.”

“Oh really,” Orsino said. He made eye contact with me and then slowly reached out and pulled at one of my curls. “I like what you’ve done with your hair since then. Insta-dye job to black. Insta-goth. It’s a really cute haircut on you, actually.”

“Thanks. I did it in the bathroom sink,” I said. “Just now. Using charcoal from the fire. I thought, oh no, everyone has dark hair or bad orangey dry bleach jobs. I have to fit in.”

“You’re doing good and blending in,” Orsino said. He finished the joint and ground out the end in the dirt under the stump. “Wait. Did you just neg me for my bleach job?”

I felt my face fall. “What?”

“You said bad bleach jobs and looked at my hair. Were you making fun of me for my bleach job? You know, negging me? I know it’s all dry forest fire thatch up here.”

“I guess I did,” I said. I looked at his hair and back at his eyes.

“Didn’t expect you to be acting like a straight English major goth at a sorority party over here,” Orsino said. “Calling all the girls ugly cause you think it’ll make them like you.”

I swallowed. “You’re right. That was cruel of me. I made fun of your name, earlier, too, and that was wrong. I shouldn’t be mean to cute boys.”

“And my music taste.”

“That’s just a difference of opinion.”

Orsino looked at me like a cat playing with a mouse, but in a friendly way. “You were very cruel about my hair, though. I feel so small.”

“Sorry. It’s a bad habit. You can do two negs for me now. Tell me I’m ugly so you can hit on me better.”

“Hm,” Orsino said. He swung one hairy leg over the stump so half of him was in shadow under the trees and his right foot was nestled in the ivy and broken glass that lay all along the perimeter of the Goat Mansion yard. “Well, you aren’t ugly, so I can’t do exactly that. Maybe I want to save my negs. Find your weak spots and then go in for the kill.”

“I’m shaking,” I said.

“Okay. I have one. My first one is that your mustache sucks. It’s like really cute that you’re trying it and I know what you’re going for, and the concept is attractive to me, and I like your philtrum, but it’s a bad mustache.”

“Ooh. Ouch. That stings,” I said. “I think it stings more because of all the compliments you threw in with it to cushion it.” But I scooted closer to him.

“I can do more.” He looked at me hard. “If you consent. I can be meaner about it.”

“About my mustache? Okay,” I said. “But I might be hurt and never speak to you again.”

“You’re trying to look like Freddie Mercury or something, right? You look like a summer camp counselor from the 1980s.”

“Ouch! You sure snatched my wig.” I put on a faggy voice. It kind of did sting to hear him say that, though also I knew that my mustache amounted to about twenty-four downy bad little hairs. But I guess I deserved it.

“See how it feels?” Orsino scooted a little closer. I found myself appreciating how broad his shoulders and torso were compared to mine. I looked at his smile. His canines were a little crooked.

“I actually am a summer camp counselor,” I said. “During the summer.”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

“I can give you another weak spot,” I said. “I’m a nerd and I used to be a horse girl. Got any horse related disses?”

“It doesn’t count if you give them to me. That’s a self defense maneuver. Also I don’t know if you’re even telling the truth. It’s gotta be something you’re sensitive about.”

“Are you sensitive about your hair and your name?”

“Yes! I’m a punk. My image is very important to me. Talking shit on my hair was mean. You started this whole battle.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry already. But give me time to recover from your first cutting remark before you do any more to me.” I put away my pipe. I glanced briefly over at Ian. Jukebox had left and now he was talking to Opal and Robin a few feet away. I felt like socially I was obligated to join their shit instead of sitting here talking to this boy I didn’t really know yet. At least so I could be up on the whole deal with Miss San Juan and the Dusties or whatever the new band was called. “Do you want to meet my friends?” I asked Orsino, standing.

“Sure,” he said. He pulled himself up. “Hey, you’re not really hurt about the mustache thing, right?” He wasn’t smiling as much any more. “I was just playing around. Your mustache is fine. It looks like every other high school punk’s mustache. Better than some. Better than mine. And you’re cute. You pull it off pretty good.”

I realized he thought he had misstepped and now I’d lost interest. I felt a flutter in my stomach.

“It’s a really sensitive topic for me because of my gender dysphoria,” I said in a deadpan voice. I walked over to Ian and Opal and Robin.

Orsino followed me, squinting a little as if he couldn’t tell if I was joking. He put his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants.“Are you serious?” He asked. "I’m sorry, I…”

“I won’t ever forgive you. Hey, meet my friends. Here are my friends Opal and Ian, who I guess have a band now.”

Ian paused. He had been saying something to Robin about some music stuff. I wasn’t sure what equipment they were talking about but it had hertz. He looked over to Orsino and then me and raised his eyebrows.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Miss San Juan, otherwise known as Ian. You saw me set up and then saw my set just now. You were jumping. Didn’t get your name.”

“I was indeed jumping,” Orsino said. “It was a pretty good show for how messy it seemed like things were before it started. You did good. You have a great stage presence. I’m Orsino.” He held out his hand, arcing his arm out for a man-handshake.

Ian placed his delicate little hand in Orsino’s big one like a princess greeting her security guard. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Orsino,” Orsino said again to Opal, holding out his hand again. For the first time I realized he was maybe kind of too stoned.

“I’m Opal,” said Opal. “I’m a drummer and use they/them pronouns and I’m really hungry for some trash food right now. Does anyone else want food?” They looked at me and then at Orsino. “You both look like you want some trash food.”

“Fuck yeah,” Orsino said. “Do we know when the next show starts, though?”

“There’s the gas station that doesn’t sell beer around the corner that way,” Opal said. “They have chips and sometimes hot dogs and pizza. We’ll be quick.”

“Let’s go,” Orsino said. He put his arm around my shoulders and set off toward the edge of the yard as if we had been walking together like that everywhere for years, as if he had touched me before.

“I don’t think I want food right now,” Ian said. “I’ll stay here.” He had a sort of quiet, wan tone in his voice that made me pause.

“Oh,” I said, and dug my feet into the ground to stop and pulled away from Orsino’s arm. I looked from Orsino to Ian. I didn’t want to leave Ian standing here alone right after his big set. “Ian, are you sure? You’ll need calories in a little bit.”

“I just feel like standing and smoking for a second in the quiet over here by the fence,” Ian said.

“Quieter out by the gas station,” I said.

“I don’t feel like walking.”

“I’ll stay here too then,” I said.

“I’m still going,” Orsino said. “I’m genuinely hungry.”

“Come on, then, big papa,” Opal said. “Let’s get some cheese fuel.” They turned their chair and wheeled fairly rapidly across the grass.

#james and orsino #long text #long post #writing #goth gay ya #trans #lgbt

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god--baby · 7 years ago

Text

nice to meet you ch 1 (sfw)

eventual belch huggins x ambiguously gendered reader

word count: 2040

“If you don’t stop playing with that, I’m going to make you take it out and put it on my desk.”

You looked up from the notes you were taking to see Mr. Oliver looking right at you, pointing at your face where you were playing with one of your snake bites, pushing at it with your tongue.

“No, you won’t,” you said, defiant. “My parents fought tooth and nail for me to wear these, and the principal won’t be pleased to hear about you doing that.”

He rolled his eyes. God, you didn’t like him before, but now, you hated him.

“They didn’t fight for you to distract yourself and the rest of the class,” he said.

“I’m not distracted — it helps me think,” you said, holding up your notebook, showing off the notes you’d been making up until he started being so rude. “Besides, no one else is distracted by my piercings. Right?”

You looked around at your classmates. No one made eye contact with you, embarrassed. One boy, a bigger guy who sat at the back of the room, actually looked away when you caught his eyes.

Traitors, you thought.

“Either take them out or go sit in the hallway for the rest of the period,” said Mr. Oliver. “I won’t have you disrupting my class.”

“You’re the one disrupting class over my piercings. I was minding my own business,” you pointed out.

“Out,” he said sharply.

You heaved an enormous sigh, determined to continue pissing him off. Asshole. You gathered your things and went out to the hall, slamming the classroom door closed behind you, sitting on the floor beside it.

You took your notebook out and started drawing all over the last page of notes, since you weren’t going to finish it anyway. Crowns and bleeding hearts and swords and things, soothing yourself by tonguing at your piercings.

After ten minutes — you’d been sent out fairly early in the class period — you gave up on him coming out to actually acknowledge your existence. You got up and started walking toward the front of the building, intending to go out to your car and smoke.

You passed Patrick Hockstetter, infamous asshole, being escorted by Mr. Cleaver — the incredibly brawny and handsome Chem teacher. You held back a sigh. He was too dreamy.

Patrick, however.

“Hey, there,” he said, giving you a scummy once-over.

You rolled your eyes.

“Move along, Patrick,” said Mr. Cleaver. He sent you a sympathetic look.

You wondered what Patrick had done, this time.

You were new enough to the school that you didn’t know much about anyone, but you’d have to be dead to not know about Patrick Hockstetter. Last week, he’d started a fire in the girls’ locker room. Today — well, you were sure you’d hear about it, eventually.

Not that anyone would tell you. You’d have to eavesdrop for that.

Once you got out to your car, you checked your reflection in the side mirror. Your eye makeup and lipstick were still going strong. Black and deep, both of them. Your hair was looking a little deflated, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

You felt how your hair looked. No air left in you.

Why did adults have to be such assholes?

Some people just couldn’t handle how you looked.

You lit up a cigarette, grateful for the short rush you got with the first drag.

A new school, and you were already making enemies with the staff. A new school, and again, people singled you out and made you feel like shit. You couldn’t make friends because no one wanted to hang out with someone who tried to look dead, with someone, well. Goth.

You sighed and finished your cigarette.

The bell rang, signaling for the whole school to go to lunch. You went back into the building to your locker, getting your lunchbox and going back outside to sit on the steps and eat.

More tofu. Your parents, raised by hippies and not going to ever let that go, had made tofu lo mein last night for dinner, and you liked it so much that you’d packed it for lunch. Would’ve been better if you could microwave it, but oh well. It was still damn decent cold.

As you ate, a group of guys pushed past you, knocking your shoulder with their knees.

“Freak,” one of them spat.

You looked up. It was the blonde one, the one called Henry.

You glared and flipped him off, one chipped fingernail in the air. He laughed, and you laughed back, cruel and unforgiving.

You knew you were soft on the inside, but on the outside, you were scary. You knew it, and you used it when you had to.

The other guys followed him, Patrick and the boy from your last class pulling up the rear.

What was his name, the one who’d looked away when you’d tried to catch his eye?

You went back to your food.

It didn’t matter.

After school, shit hit the fan. For about a minute after you pulled out of the school parking lot, everything was fine. Then, your steering wheel started shaking violently. You swore and pulled over.

You pulled out your cell phone and called your dad first, then your mom. Neither of them picked up, probably too busy with work. You understood. Running a thrift store took a lot of time and energy.

You swore again, though.

Then, you looked up the nearest mechanic shop.

You drove there, refusing to go any faster than ten miles an hour, despite people honking at you.

You pulled into the parking lot, next to a beautiful blue car you recognized from school.

“Reggie! We got another. Clock in and get your ass over there!” a man called.

You waited by your car, and a boy walked up to you. No. Not a boy. The boy — the one who’d looked away in class.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his jumpsuit, giving you a once over. His eyes seemed to get caught on your boots, tall platforms with buckles all the way up to your knees.

“Reggie. That’s your name?” you asked, not answering him just yet. “I’ve only heard Oliver call you Mr. Huggins.”

“Yeah,” he said.

He looked a little uncomfortable, so you decided to stop giving him the third degree.

“Well, nice to meet you. My steering wheel is shaking. It sounds like a motorcycle in inside my car,” you said.

“Jesus,” he said. “Can I take it for a spin?”

You handed him the keys.

“Knock yourself out,” you said.

He got in your car, turning off the radio when the Cure started blaring from the speakers. You smiled. He drove it around the block, returning quickly.

“Jesus,” he said again when he got out.

“I know. Any ideas?”

“Not a clue,” he said honestly.

“Fuck,” you said.

“Lemme ask one of the guys. Dom!”

A man walked out of the workshop towards you.

“Black lipstick,” said the man — Dom. “Nice.”

He gave you a look that reminded you of Patrick. You made a note to stay away from this guy as often as you could.

“Keep it in your pants, Dom,” said Reggie. “Steering wheel’s shaking. Really bad, but worse over like, 20. Any ideas?”

Dom thought for a moment, raking his hands through his short, curly hair.

“Check the tires,” he said. “Might be missing a bolt.”

“’Kay.”

Dom walked away, and Reggie went around your car, crouching next to the tires, looking closely. At your front left tire, he made a small noise.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re missing two bolts. Easy.”

“Cool,” you said. You held up your pack of cigarettes. “You mind?”

“Nah, go ahead.”

You lit up as he walked away. He came back when you were halfway done with your cigarette, holding two bolts in his big hand.

He screwed them on and stood, slapping the hood.

“There you are. ‘M gonna take it for another drive, see if that’s it. But it should be. Dom’s a creep, but he knows his shit.”

“Okay,” you said, ashing your cigarette.

He took your car for another short drive, and came back, smiling.

You took a deep breath but kept holding his eye. God, what a great smile this guy had.

“That fixed it,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “What’ll it cost me?”

“Eh. It was just a coupla bolts. This one’s free.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. Consider it me saying sorry for Dom creepin’ on you.”

You smiled.

“Thanks, man,” you said.

“And here,” he said, pulling a card out of his pocket. He held it out for you.

You took it, reading the front. Flusche and Sons, it said. You turned it over. In a messy hand, there was a phone number.

“That’s my number,” he said. “Something happens again, you call me.”

“I’ll just come here,” you said.

“Well, then. If you can’t drive, call me.”

You let out a short laugh.

“Never had a guy try to pick me up so fast,” you joked.

His cheeks tinged red.

“That’s — that’s not —”

“Hey, I was joking,” you said kindly. “Sorry. I’ll see you ‘round.”

“’Kay.”

You drove home, grateful that things were okay again.

When you got home, neither of your parents were there, yet. To be expected, of course. The shop didn’t close for another couple hours, and they’d be home even later than that.

You called your mom. She picked up.

“Hey, starchild,” she said, pulling out her special nickname for you. She must be having a good day, then.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I saw you called. I’m sorry, I had someone right in front of me. What’s going on?”

“My car — something messed up. The steering wheel was shaking really bad. I took it to Flusche and Sons and they fixed me up.”

“That was fast! What’ll it cost us?”

“Nothing. The guy just put a couple of bolts on my wheels and let me go.”

“Ooh, he must have noticed how cute you are.”

“Mom. It totally wasn’t like that.”

“Then why can I hear you smiling, my sweet child?”

You laughed.

“Oh, ‘cause I am.”

“Was he cute?”

You thought about it. In a way, yeah. Reggie was cute.

“Sure,” you said. “I never noticed before, but yeah. Kinda cute. We go to school together.”

Then you grimaced.

“One of my teachers threatened to make me take out my snake bites today,” you said.

“Oh, honey. I’ll talk to the principal.”

“You don’t have to —” you started.

“Oh, but I will. Listen, someone just walked in. We’ll talk more when I get home, okay?”

“Okay, mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, starchild. ‘Bye, now.”

“Bye.”

You hung up and went upstairs to your room. You opened up your laptop, choosing to ignore your homework for a while. You got on Skype, finding that your best friend, Raven, was already online.

Hey, you typed

Hey yourself. How’s school?

Raven was homeschooled. Lucky bitch.

Sucks. Teacher got onto me for my snake bites.

Asshole

I know

Anything else?

Car fucked up. Had to take it to the shop

Fuck. Meet any cute mechanics? ;)

You laughed. Typical Raven. She saw the whole world as a playground, constantly looking for new toys.

Actually yeah. I guess. There’s this guy who works there I go to school with.

Oh yeah???

Yeah. Nice smile

Oooh nice!

You talked for another hour, unwinding. You blasted your latest playlist, relaxing until you were little more than a puddle on top of your bed.

You said goodbye to Raven when you heard your parents come in, and you went down to help them make dinner, talking about your collective day, how Mr. Oliver got onto you, what you could do about it.

When you went to bed, you laid there under your covers, thoughts wandering.

They kept coming back to Reggie. His smile, the crinkles next to his eyes.

You sighed.

You probably were going to have a crush on him.

That was okay, as long as it didn’t become anything else. You weren’t ready for another — something.

Your last something had just ended, and you weren’t ready for something new.

#belch huggins x reader #The Bowers Gang #it 2017 fic #it 2017 imagine #mine

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autumn-kitten · 6 years ago

Text

Tag Post

I was tagged by @springbearhime, thank you so much!!!!! ♡ ♡ I don’t think I’ve ever been tagged in one of these things so it made me unreasonably happy :’)

Posting this under a cut because it ended up being super long!

Nickname: Nic, Rose, Shy

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 20 as of this March!

Time: 10:31 am

Fave Artist: Radiohead right now. PS friendly reminder to blacklist the tag radiohead if you don’t wanna see me spamming, I just queued like 50 radiohead posts bc I have a problem lol

Song stuck in my head: This excellent, underappreciated one hit wonder, She Blinded Me With Science. Also, this live version of Radiohead’s Videotape, because it includes a cool part in the middle that isn’t on the recorded/studio version and I love it.

Last movie I saw: The Incredibles 2

Last thing I googled: Trying to figure out how to properly use the Amazon Alexa my mom bought, lol.

Other blogs: I have a Tera Online blog, which is dead rn because I’m not playing Tera very much anymore and the blog is on another email address so it takes too much effort to access it lol. I also partially abandoned it because I got the feeling people didn’t really like me on there.. got a whole lot of mean anons and all my mutuals stopped talking to me and uhHhh idk what I did but sorry y’all... I think I just complained way too much there honestly. I also have a private rant/journaling blog, because I need to write things down to help me deal with it/get it out of my system.

Do I get asks: I wish!! Sometimes people do message me though but I always get shy ahah. Send me anons! I will answer anything! Hit me tf up!

Why I chose my url: Oh boy, I made this blog when I was probably 16. Autumn was my favorite season and I adore cats. I didn’t use this blog at first because I already had one I was active on and had a lot of friends/mutuals. When I was like 18, this guy I was dating at the would go on that blog and have a huge freakout over nearly everything on it (you posted a selfie and responded to someone that complimented you with a heart??? ARE YOU CHEATING????, etc), so I moved here. I feel kinda bad, I had like 10 messages from different people saying “this blog has zero posts and I want this url can i pls have :(”

Following: 631 LOL. Most people aren’t even active anymore so I should probably go through and clear that out...

What I am wearing: I don’t have work today so I’m still what I slept in - soft Mickey Mouse print boxer shorts and the shirt I wore yesterday lol

Dream job: I don’t really know what I want to do!! Something that makes me happy and doesn’t suck the life out of me, which idk is possible. The idea of working for the rest of my life really depresses me. I am very interested in a ton of things but am not talented at any of them (music, art, film directing or editing, computer programming/coding, writing/editing) so I’m hoping to take some classes at my community college and see if there’s something I’m able to pick up. As a kid I wanted to be an actress (I had no anxiety until I was like 12, it was wild - I was a theater kid haha), then all through middle and high school I wanted to be in a band or be an author/editor, and when I was like 18 I wanted to be an English teacher for quite a while but I’ve realized I’m too shy and definitely not assertive enough.

Dream trip: Japan and all over Europe. Also Australia/New Zealand!!

Fave food: Oof this is hard... I honestly just love food in general. Sometimes it’s burgers and fries, sometimes Chinese food, sometimes Pad Thai, sometimes sushi, sometimes pizza, sometimes pasta... Food is delicious, lol. Right now I’d say probably burgers and fries?

Play any instrument: I took piano lessons for a few years as a kid but hated practicing bc there was pressure from my parents and eventually quit. I wanted to learn how to play the drums but my parents said it was “too loud” so I played trumpet for 4 years in the middle school band and jazz band (because trumpet is SUCH a quiet instrument, lol). I self taught myself guitar in 8th grade and was in a band that never got off the ground, but I haven’t touched guitar since I was probably 16 and really wanna get back into it. I’d love to learn play bass guitar and drums!! Also, fun fact... I was SUPER obsessed with harps as a kid and really wanted to learn how to play one until I was like, 11.

Play(ed) any sport: Aside from being a theater/band kid, I was also v sporty since my dad really wanted boys, hahaha. I played soccer, volleyball, and basketball! I played soccer the longest but I ended up being better at basketball than anything else... but I loved volleyball the most, lmfao. I made some “tryout only” teams for all three sports, which was cool, but any and all sportiness died when I was like 13 or so because Depression Says No and honestly my heart wasn’t in it anymore, it started out as a fun activity but after I was about 10 or 11 I was just doing it because my parents wanted me to and I was really miserable. It was a blessing when they let me quit.

Hair color: Blondeish?? I think?? It’s kinda strawberry blonde in some light.

Languages spoken: English, and three years of classes worth of Japanese. I love languages but it’s super, SUPER hard for my brain to learn them. I want to get back into Japanese, though, because it came pretty easily and was a lot of fun! I tried to learn Spanish for a while since I was living in Argentina, but I was horrible at it and kept adding in Japanese on accident because apparently my brain could only handle two languages and not three, lol.

Random fact: Hmm... I was incapable of rolling my R’s until new years eve this year.. I was v drunk and apparently was just sitting at the table going rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... after months of trying to learn how to do it and not even knowing the proper technique I was just rolling my R without even trying/knowing I was doing it. I’ve been able to since that day, lmfao.

Describe yourself with an aesthetic: Oh boy I don’t even know how to do this??And it depends on my mood??? My brain can’t decide who I am or what my aesthetic is, sometimes it’s crazy cat lady with a huge library in her house, sometimes it’s girl at the county fair with a flowy dress and sunflowers in her hair, sometimes (often) it’s “hi I no longer have black hair anymore but I still feel emo/goth in my soul™, sometimes it’s some bullshit 90s vaporwave stuff, sometimes it’s just “haha i’m here for the memes”, sometimes it’s telescopes and observatories and stars and astronomy, sometimes it’s cutesy pastel... idk what my aesthetic is.

Also here’s a relatable picture of me, ty for reading. I tag... anyone that wants to do this bc I really don’t know who to tag ahhhHhhHHHhhh

#shy rambles #about

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thisishomenicktoonsau · 7 years ago

Text

Just A Typical Morning

Sophie is just the typical 10-year-old girl. Except for her family life where she grows up in a foster home with a mom, a dad, 15 older siblings, six younger siblings, and several pets. Yup. Definitely typical.

Hi, whoever is reading this. My name is Sophie Hathaway and this is my life. I am 10 years old and just moved to a new school. I’m not like other kids my age. I mean I go to school, hang out with my friends after school, I draw for competitions, I like soccer and video games but I also like stuffed animals and musicals. So I would say that I’m mostly normal.

Sophie was looking in a mirror getting ready for school in her tiny closet bedroom. She was dressed in a white tank top, a red plaid flannel shirt, jean leggings, and black converse. She tied her long curly ebony hair in a ponytail before putting her signature dark blue messenger hat on and turned to her white Maine Coon cat. “Well, Lion? What do you think?” Lion responded by lazily sprawling out on one of her shirts. Sophie rolled her midnight blue eyes and said “Thanks for the input Lion. Seriously that helps so much.” The moment Lion started to chew on the shirt she yanked it out from under him. Lion started to meow loudly in annoyance. Sophie smirked and said, “Yeah love you too bud.” She ruffled his fur and left her room her door ajar so Lion could wander in and out.

The only way I’m not normal is family wise. I live in a foster home with several other kids. I’ve lived here since I was six years old and grew up in the younger half of the family. Lion came with me because he’s been my cat since I was five though he was my original mother’s cat. I kind of have learned to thrive in chaotic situations after living here for so long.

Sophie was looking for her backpack for school. She didn’t know why it wasn’t in her room with all her other things but she could chalk that up to it getting mixed up with some other moving boxes. She looked in the closest room to her own bedroom, being her brothers Timmy and Snap’s room, and saw a familiar bag strap sticking out from under the blue bed while Timmy’s Golden Retriever puppy, Sparky, was lying on the bed. She grabbed it and pulled it out from under the bed. “Timmy Turner! Can you please explain what MY backpack was doing under YOUR bed?!” Sophie yelled.

A brown haired, blue eyed, buck-toothed boy poked his head into the room. “I needed crayons for my comic book and you have the best crayons in the house,” Timmy explained like it was obvious.

This is Timothy Turner or “Timmy” for short. He’s older than me by a few months and has been here longer than any of us. See when he was two, our foster parents moved next door and noticed something not so good. His real parents were neglecting him and Timmy had a caretaker that was abusing him. So Cosmo and Wanda, who are our parents, did what was best and called social services on them. Cosmo and Wanda eventually adopted Timmy as their son and the rest is pretty much history. The weird thing about this story though is that we think Timmy may have had a twin sibling. Keyword: Think. There were two cribs in the house although since there wasn’t any record of Timmy’s birth and no other evidence that there was another baby in the house, it’s just theory for now. Sparky was Timmy’s tenth birthday present. Mom and Dad got him in March so he’s just a puppy.

Timmy acts like what you think a “typical” ten-year-old boy is. He likes gross things like dead frogs and literally has no idea how girls work to point I’m pretty sure he thinks females have a whole different language. He can be a selfish jerk sometimes but he can be a good brother too. We play video games together a lot and he once told I’m the sister he didn’t know he could wish for.

“Dude. Stop stealing my crayons!” Sophie said rolling her eyes.

“Then buy me some fancy ones like yours.”

“Right. Like I have my own money. We are literally both 10.” Sophie said deadpanned. Sophie was checking her box for missing crayons. Okay, everything seemed in order except. Hang on. Something was wrong with her blues. “Slate, Sky, Navy, Indigo, Cobalt, Teal, Ocean, Peacock, Azure, Cerulean, Lapis, Spruce, Stone, Aegean, Berry, Denim, Admiral, Sapphire, Arctic…. Hey. Where’s my blue crayon? I have all my other blues but not the normal blue one.” Sophie said looking up from her crayon box after counting them.

“Oh yeah! Nerd-tron borrowed it for his science junk notes,” Timmy said getting his own backpack for school.

“Ugh, you gotta be kidding me with this!” Sophie groaned as she stomped to the room next door and knocked.

“Jimmy! I need my crayon! You know I hate having an incomplete box!” Sophie waited for a few minutes before Jimmy opened the door and Jimmy’s mechanical dog Goddard suddenly ran by her legs.

“Oh hey, Sophie. What did you need again?” Jimmy asked.

“My blue crayon. You stole it from Tim who stole it from me.” Sophie explained.

“Oh, that was your crayon! No wonder it was such high quality!” Jimmy said.

“Yeah, so can I have it back?” Sophie asked.

“Of course! Let me get it for you.” Jimmy said as he started to search his desk area. Sophie followed him into his and ZIM’s shared room.

That’s James Neutron or “Jimmy” for short. He’s older than me by about a year and came here shortly after Timmy did. Nobody's quite sure what happened to his parents but Mom and Dad found him just wandering in traffic and took him to CPS. They did find some of his relatives on his father’s side but nobody took him because he’s apparently some sort of “bad omen” or something, so mom and dad took him in. It was then they were like “Well we already got the two kids, why not open up a foster home for more?” So he kinda started the whole Vanguard Home for Wayward Children in a way. He built Goddard when he was around six so it was a year before I got there.

Jimmy is super smart, probably the smartest of all of us entirely being skilled in several different fields of science already. Though this can be annoying when he acts like a know it all and won’t admit when he makes a clear mistake. He stays mostly serious and doesn’t really play too much with us. Mostly because of Timmy. Timmy annoys him. However, he acts like a leader to us and takes care of us so that’s pretty good.

“Ah! Here it is!” Jimmy said holding up the crayon.

“Thanks, Jim. You’re a peach!” Sophie said as she put it in her bag.

“No problem. See you downstairs.” Jimmy said as he grabbed his bag and headed out. Sophie also started to head out starting to recount her crayons until she bumped into a teenage boy with black hair and ice blue eyes.

“Ow sorry, Danny…” Sophie said grinning sheepishly. Danny rubbed his head as he stood up with his Bulldog, Cujo’s leash in hand.

“It’s cool Soph I was just gonna take Cujo out real quick. Hold on. You got a smudge on your face.” Danny said trying to wipe it off.

“Mom c’mon stop!” Sophie whined as she tried to squirm out his grasp.

Danny groaned and said “Sophie. If you just hold still this would be over in a second.”

A high-pitched male voice called to them interrupting the squabble. “Danny! Sophie! What type of eggs do you want for breakfast?”

“Scrambled, please! And can I have hot chocolate to drink SB?” Sophie asked politely as she rushed to the banister to get away from Danny, making him sigh shaking his head.

“Of course sweetheart! Danny! What about you?” SB called back from the kitchen.

“I’ll take sunny side up SB!” Danny said as he and Cujo walked down the stairs. Sophie watched SB’s elderly cat Gary go downstairs followed by Lion and Sparky.

Those were two of my older brothers Daniel Fenton/”Danny” for short and Spencer Bob Sawyer-Patterson or “SB” for short. They both came here not too long after Timmy and Jimmy.

Danny is 14 and a freshman in high school. His parents were great scientists but died tragically in a lab accident when he was around four-ish. While his sister’s Jazz and Dani went to an all girls home Danny was not allowed to follow them making him end up here. Soon after he got here Mom and Dad got him a bulldog named Cujo to help him cope.

Danny is a really kind older brother. He’s kind of one of our parents second in command. So much so we actually call him mom because he always scolding us for doing the stupid things we do and wiping crap from our faces like you just saw. Danny always groans when we call him that even though he tells groan-worthy puns in return. Though we all know he secretly likes us calling him that as a term of endearment.

SB is 20 and currently going to culinary school while he lives here at home with us. Like Jimmy, we don’t actually know what happened to his parents. Every time he’s asked about it SB just bawls his eyes out. So we just stopped asking. All we know about his parents is that they are the ones that took SB to get his cat Gary, who has lived so long none of us know how old he is. Not even SB who got him as a full grown cat. Timmy swears he’s immortal while I’m just hoping we don’t come home from school one day and find him under a sofa “sleeping”.

SB is super sweet to all of us though he can be a little clueless and super innocent at times. Though I think he knows that strangely enough. Mom and Dad let him cook the meals for all of us cause he’s just such a good cook. He even makes all our lunches for school which takes so long he actually gets up at 4:00 AM to take his time making them. He’s definitely more of an early bird than any of us.

“Danny! Hurry up! We gotta leave in 30 minutes!” a black haired and violet-eyed teenage goth girl called from downstairs. Danny got to the bottom of the stairs with Cujo in hand and Sophie followed close behind.

“I know Sam. I just gotta take Cujo out to pee.” Danny said as he kissed her cheek before going outside.

“Morning dad,” Sophie said as she passed Sam to get to the kitchen.

“Good morning to you too son,” Sam said as she bumped the back of Sophie’s head.

Sophie went into the kitchen where she saw her brother SB with his curly dyed bright yellow hair with his original ginger hair peeking out and bright blue-eyes putting food down in front of her other older brother with dyed pink hair and dark brown eyes named Patrick. Jimmy and Timmy were already in the kitchen racing each other in an egg eating race. “Morning SB. Morning Pat-Pat.” Sophie said as she kissed both of their cheeks.

“Morning Soph-a-Loaf! Your breakfast is almost ready!” SB said cheerfully as he put down a fruit salad down for Sam who just walked in with her spider-shaped bag.

“Thanks, SB,” Sophie said sitting down next to Patrick who was scarfing down his food loudly which went along so nicely with Timmy and Jimmy’s muffled yelling. Sophie giggled as Sam pinched the bridge of her nose.

SB put a hand on her shoulder and asked “Tea?” Sam nodded quickly as SB poured her a cup of earl gray tea.

That is my sister Samantha Manson or “Sam” for short and my brother Patrick Star. They both came here about a few months after Danny and SB. Both have connections to Danny and SB too. Sam has been Danny’s best friend since kindergarten and now she is his girlfriend. Patrick has also been SB’s best friend since kindergarten.

Sam is the same age and grade as Danny. Her parents tried to force her into a life of fame and fortune that she frankly never wanted. So much so she ran away from her parents and ended up here. She and Danny just kind of clicked and got together by the end of middle school. Mom and Dad were pretty accepting of this. They just ask Danny and Sam make sure if and when they do something they are either out of the house, the entire family but them is out of the house, or lock the door which I’m still not sure what they mean by that. Do they mean kiss? Cause they’ve kissed in front of us before. Like more than once.

While we call Danny “Mom” we call Sam “Dad” a lot as an inside joke between all us. If Danny mothers us by taking care of our injuries and wiping stuff off our faces then Sam fathers us by punishing us when we do something wrong. Like when one of my older brothers, Manny, “wandered” into a Victoria Secret to see girls. Even Danny knew that he was a dead man when Sam went to fish him out. I do still look up to her as one of my female role models. I mean she so strong-willed and passionate that I kinda wanna be like her when I’m older.

Patrick is 22 and currently going through community college though he’s not that great at it. Not that he’s stupid, he’s just a little slow. His parents have been out of the picture for a while so his older sister was taking care of him. A few years later he said his sister got “lost in the tide”. Whatever that means. He also has a pet a rock named Rocky that he randomly just found in the park one day and took it home with him.

Patrick’s such a sweetheart and really tries hard for us despite his faults like him being slow and kinda lazy too. Seriously he like sleeps a lot. I think I tend to pick up habits from my siblings cause I swear I have fallen asleep in some weird places just like him. Mom and Dad depend on him to feed the pets while SB feeds us.

Patrick got up and started putting down the food bowls for the pets after scarfing down his breakfast. He put down a bowl of nuts and bolts for Goddard, three bowls of big dog for Sparky, Boodles, and Perrito, a bowl of medium dog food for Cujo, two bowls of cat food for Gary and Lion, he put some sprinkles on Rocky, put out a muffin for Minimoose, and he put out a bowl of clams for Grudge. Goddard, Sparky, Gary, and Lion were already eating. Danny came in with Cujo and Cujo made a dash for his bowl as SB put down Danny’s and Sophie’s eggs. As SB poured Sophie’s hot chocolate into a mug, a tan boy with messy brown hair and green eyes rubbing his eyes sleepily came into the kitchen.

“Morning Tak!” Sophie said chipperly.

“Subah mere pyaare parivaar.” (Translation: ‘Morning my lovely family.’ {Hindi}) Tak said obviously not being too terribly awake as he made his way to the toaster. He spent a minute staring at it before he started to hit it. “Why. Won’t. This. Cursed. Machine. Work!”

Danny promptly went and stopped Tak from hitting it. “Tak. Leave the toaster alone. If you want toast so much then just sit next to Sophie and I’ll make it for you but Tak... the toaster isn’t even on.” Danny calmly explained.

“Oh…” Tak mumbled blushing as he sat next to Sophie. Sophie giggled and kissed his cheek.

That’s my brother Tak Pupanunu. He’s 13 and came here about a year after Danny, SB, Sam, and Patrick. He was the first one of us to come from a different country which he was raised in India. As far as we know his parents gave him up at one of the shrines and was adopted by his Uncle Jibolba and his adopted older brother Lok. However, Jibolba started to get sick and had to stay in the hospital most of the time. They moved to America so Jibolba could get better care. With Lok already being of age and Tak wasn’t it was inevitable he would be put into foster care. Tak is still allowed to visit Jibolba and Lok so it’s all good.

Tak’s gotten a good grasp on English though he still isn’t used to the technology. He’s a lot more mature than people give him credit for though he has been dragged into the childish side of the family by me, Timmy, and Snap before too. I was really scared when I first got here but Tak really helped me and actually treated me like a person unlike most of the legal people I had to go through to get here.

Now, this is where stuff gets kind of complicated so listen up. There was a very short pause between when Tak came and when the next kid came. Like maybe a month or so. Then Mom and Dad got five kids in a month. Like no joke. The first week were my brothers ZIM and GIR, the second week was my brother Manny, the third week was my sister Jenny, and the fourth week was my brother Blik. All of that in a row. It’s kind of insane how it happened.

“Good Morning my HORRIBLE family!” said a boy with light green skin, lavender eyes, and black hair strolled into the kitchen.

Sam rolled her eyes as she handed Tak his toast. “Morning ZIM. Did you take your meds this morning?” ZIM paused before shaking his head no.

“Zion Issac Martinez! You are supposed to take those every day.” Danny scolded.

ZIM looked down kicking the floor and mumbled out an apology. Danny sighed as he got him the right amount of pills and a cup of juice. ZIM took them without any protest.

Sophie then realized something. “Hey ZIM? Where’s GIR?”

ZIM looked at Sophie and said, “Well I did think he was following me down the stairs.” Suddenly everyone heard a loud squeaking noise. Sophie suddenly went to the stairs and caught a little five-year-old with bright blue eyes and long curly black hair.

“Hi, mama!” GIR chipperly said. Sophie sighed as a plush moose started floating around her.

“Thanks, Minimoose. Your muffin is on the counter.” Minimoose squee-ed happily as he flew into the kitchen. Sophie carried GIR into the kitchen with her.

“ZIM! You need to watch your baby brother better!” Sophie said as he put GIR in one of three booster seats and getting a bowl of Cheerios for him to eat.

“Not my fault he can’t walk downstairs.” ZIM shot back as Minimoose somehow ate that muffin in one swift motion.

Those are my brothers Zion Issac Martinez or “ZIM” for short, Greggory Ian Ramirez/“GIR” for short, and their robot Minimoose. ZIM is 12 while GIR is only five. GIR actually came here when he was pretty much a newborn. Oh, where to begin with these two. See ZIM was born to his mom as a really sick baby and he still is kind of sick but it’s better than when he was a toddler. I think it’s a sickness that affects his stomach and his liver so he can’t eat right and makes his skin this sickish greenish hue I call ‘I’m about to puke.’ green.

Anyway, their mom died shortly after GIR was born and with no father in the picture ZIM & GIR’s cousins took custody of them. They were abusive towards ZIM and didn’t take care for GIR. Eventually they just kinda got bored of toying with ZIM and listening to GIR’s cries that they just dropped them off here and didn’t look back. ZIM soon built Minimoose to care for both of them with daily reminders for ZIM to take his meds and keeping an eye on GIR.

ZIM is a bit… much? Oh, how do I even describe him? He’s brash, overconfident, and arrogant literally thinking he’s better than every one of us and better than anyone that he’ll ever meet. I have a theory that it’s because of him being bullied for being this sickly that he just ended up like this. He’s also really smart like Jimmy he just can’t really focus on a project for too long. I think mom once said after bringing him home from his doctor that he has ADHD or something like that. ZIM is a good guy. Really he is. It's just really, really, REALLY hard to find the good in him. He does have his moments though. As for GIR well… I can literally describe him using two words. Sunshine and Sugar. Make of that what you will.

“We should probably teach GIR how to properly walk downstairs at some point,” Jimmy pointed out.

“We could probably cut his hair and he would be fine.” Timmy also pointed out as Sophie got out a brush and gasped.

“Absolutely not! His hair is a gift to society and should never be cut!” She started to brush GIR’s hair and tie it back into pigtails as GIR happily ate his Cheerios.

“So are you gonna brush his hair every single day?” Tak asked teasingly.

“I will if it means preserving his beauty!” Sophie said confidently.

“What are we talking about?” a boy with tan skin, chocolate brown eyes with a scar over one of them, and curly chocolate black hair walked in with his bag.

SB handed him a plate with a sausage smothered in hot sauce. “Soph-a-Loaf got offended by the idea of cutting GIR-Bear’s hair.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is? It’s just a haircut to make him look shiny and clean!” Patrick said clapping.

“Of course it’s a big deal! How else is GIR gonna get all the ladies in his kindergarten class? He’s stinking handsome with his hair.” The boy said ruffling up GIR’s hair as GIR giggled and the boy took a bite of his sausage.

“Thank you, Manny for seeing my point,” Sophie said.

“Anytime Mi Amor,” Manny said winking at Sophie. Sophie groaned and rolled her eyes.

That’s my brother Manuel Pablo Gutierrez O’Brian Equihua Rivera or “Manny” for short. He’s 13 years old and actually is the second one of us to come from a different country. That being Mexico. His parents got divorced when he was really little and lived with his father and grandfather. However, it was deemed an unsafe living environment for Manny to live in so he was sent here. Both his parents and grandfather do still have visiting rights so that’s good at least.

Like Tak, he adapted to speaking English pretty fast and unfortunately has developed quite a habit of flirting like I mentioned with the whole Victoria Secret incident. Also, he just likes rebelling against authority just for the fun of it. Don’t get me wrong he’s just as protective as all my other brothers but he can be a bit obnoxious sometimes.

“What? Can’t handle my charm huh?” Manny said wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, something like that…” Sophie mumbled.

Manny narrowed his eyes and squeezed her sides as he said “¡Ataque sorpresa!” (Translation: ‘Surprise Attack!’ {Spanish})

Sophie let out an inhuman noise and bumped her knee on the table. “You little ffff,” Sophie growled blushing.

“Sophia. Language. Little ears are listening.” Danny said pointing to GIR.

“...fluffer.” Sophie finished with a bite in her voice. Manny laughed along with Timmy and ZIM as he high-fived them. “Why do I suffer this type of abuse in this household?” Sophie grumbled.

“Boys leave your sister alone. Just cause she’s younger than you doesn’t give you the right to pick on her just at random. At least be consistent if you are gonna tease her,” a teenage girl with red hair, blue eyes, and a robotic brace on her right arm and leg scolded as she walked into the kitchen. The boys rolled their eyes and each mumbled out an apology.

Sophie smiled and said “Thanks, Jenny.”

“Anytime Soph. Say, Jim? Can you loosen up the brace on my arm? I think it’s too stiff and I can’t really move it around that well.” Jenny explained.

“Sure thing Jen!” Jimmy said getting out a screwdriver from his backpack.

“You keep a screwdriver in your bag?” Sam asked raising an eyebrow. Jimmy just shrugged and got to work.

That’s my one of my other older sisters Jennifer Wakeman or “Jenny” for short. She’s 16 and is the oldest of us girls besides Mom. Jenny and her mom got into a really bad car crash that left Jenny’s mom paralyzed from the waist down and in a wheelchair. Jenny wasn’t hurt nearly as bad but it left her right arm and leg paralyzed and unusable without special braces. Jenny can still visit her mom who now lives in an assisted living facility. She lived in all girls home before being transferred here.

Despite the trauma she’s been through, Jenny is a super sweet and upbeat person if not a little naive at times too. She’s usually the one who takes all of us shopping for clothes whenever we need it. She’s super into fashion and literally spends hours on the computer researching the latest trends so she can be a designer when she’s an adult.

“Finished!” Jimmy said as he pulled the screwdriver away and put it back in his bag. Jenny flexed her arm and sighed happily grabbing a granola bar to eat.

“Much better. Thanks, Jimmy!”

“No problem Jen.”

“By the way after school, we need to go to the mall for some new summer clothes,” Jenny stated munching on the granola bar.

“And who’s exactly paying for this?” a man with brown skin, black hair tied back in a man bun, and goldish eyes asked as he walked into the kitchen with a newspaper under his arm.

“Good Morning Blik!” Jenny said cheerily as she hugged his arm. “I was kinda hoping you would?” Jenny asked batting her eyes at him. Blik side eyed Jenny and it was then decided by Sophie that her sister needed help.

Sophie tugged at Blik’s pants and said in a cutesy voice “Pwease Bliky? We are growing children. We need new clothes.”

Blik blushed at the nickname, sighed, and picked Sophie up placing her on his hip. “Alright fine. I will pay for the clothes.”

That is our oldest brother Blik Cramdilly. He’s 25 and just finished college this year but moved back to help Mom and Dad take care of us all. His father ditched him and his mom after he and his brothers were born. Unfortunately, their mother passed away when they were kids and their grandmother passed away when they were teenagers. This led to them being unable to inherit their massive fortune and while his brothers, Waffle and Gordon, had family members to take care of them due to both their father's side of the family, Blik did not. This is how he ended up in foster care. Six months later he did inherit his fortune along with his two brothers before they went off to college. However, Blik remained loyal to our strange family and would come back to visit us until he graduated. He then came back home to help raise us and help with the finances.

Blik can be a real grump sometimes. And loud. Very loud too. He likes buying things for himself so he can seem very powerful to those who try to cross our family. Even though he acts like it’s the worst thing in the world I think that he secretly likes buying us things. I don’t know, he just seems like he’s in good mood after seeing me with the tablet he bought me for drawing or when SB thanks him for the new set of pots and pans Blik got for him. He also is the one who keeps track of our doctor visits and allergies surprisingly enough. I think that shows he’s at least somewhat concerned for our wellbeings.

“Ugh, do we have to go clothes shopping AGAIN? We already have okay clothes.” Tak complained.

Jenny sighed and booped Tak’s nose. “Someday dear brother you will understand the importance of fashion.”

Blik put Sophie down and said, “Alright does everyone have their backpacks?” He was met with a chorus of Yes’s, Yeah’s, Yup’s, and Duh’s.

“Alright then. SB give everyone their lunches.”

“Okey Dokey!” SB said cheerfully as he handed everyone a personalized lunch box.

The lunch boxes were hanging up on a rack in the kitchen. Each lunch box was a different color to tell who’s was who’s. Blue for Jimmy, Pink for Timmy, Green for Danny, Violet for Sam, Yellow for SB, Lime for Patrick, Orange for Tak, Magenta for ZIM, Teal for GIR, Brown for Manny, Bright Blue for Jenny, and Light Pink for Sophie.

“By the way, your sushi is in the fridge whenever you eat your lunch today,” SB said looking back at Blik who was getting coffee.

“Thanks, SB.” Blik said taking a long sip of that coffee from a ‘Nope.’ mug.

A frazzled looking woman with pink curly hair and wearing a yellow blouse came into the kitchen. “Okay! It is almost time for school! Is everyone in the kitchen? Let me get a headcount,” she said as she started silently started to count.

That’s our mom Wanda Cosma. Her dad runs a successful garbage company and she’s the heiress so we get funds from her dad. It’s pretty cool. She may run the company if she ever gets sick of being a stay at home mom which I don’t think is happening anytime soon.

She’s pretty much our responsible parent. You know the usual stuff. Stopping us from doing stupid things and making sure we don’t go to the hospital more than once a month each. That kind of stuff. She tends to play bad cop in actually disciplining us instead of letting us run wild and free. She’s actually really great at balancing all of us and making sure we get the attention we deserve and/or crave.

“Wait there is only 13 of you and Poof is upstairs with your father so which nine are we missing?” Wanda asked.

Blik looked at what lunch boxes are left. “Indigo, Aqua, Fuschia, Bubblegum Pink, Red, Gray, Bright Green, Powder Blue, and Moss Green.”

Wanda was trying to connect the colors to the kids as Sophie spoke up. “Snap isn’t down here.”

“And Boodles didn’t come in for breakfast…. so Bunsen isn’t up yet either.” Jimmy deduced.

“Neither did Perrito so Dora isn’t up,” Jenny added.

“Meaning Marinette and Tikki aren’t up either,” Sam concluded.

“Now that you mention it… I don’t remember seeing Adrien or Plagg get up either.” Danny said.

“Well, I know Vendetta and Charlotte are up,” Manny said shrugging.

“Where are they then?” Wanda asked with her hands on her hips.

“In the backyard with Grudge doing… something? I don’t know. Vendetta is a weird kid.” Manny said throwing his arms up like ‘what do you want me to do about it?’

Wanda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer. “Snap White! Bunsen Knai’livac! Dora Marquez! Marinette Dupain-Cheng! Tikki Dupain-Cheng! Adrien Agreste! Plagg Agreste! Charlotte Winfrey! Vendetta Mortcheva! It is time for school! Come to the kitchen!” Wanda waited for a moment before she heard feet running from the downstairs bathroom and down the stairs.

From the downstairs bathroom was a pale teenage girl with blueish-black short pigtails blue eyes, and freckles carrying a five-year-old girl with fair skin, short dark red hair, and matching blue eyes. The two coming down the stairs was a very lightly tanned teenage boy with blond hair and green eyes carrying a five-year-old boy with dark brown skin, messy black hair, and matching green eyes.

The two teens nearly crashed into each other as they both said with a slight French accent: “Sorry mom!”

Wanda shook her head. “What were you doing that took you so long? Marinette? Adrien?”

“Tikki’s hair was a real mess so I’ve been messing with it so it stays flat for the day,” Marinette said as she let Tikki down to get a poptart from SB. Wanda nodded to Marinette before looking at Adrien and Plagg for their excuse.

“Plagg was being a butt and whining about going to school so he was not being cooperative this morning,” Adrien said bluntly.

“SCHOOL IS BORING!” Plagg yelled from Adrien’s arms.

“Plagg sweetie. If GIR and Tikki have to go to kindergarten then so do you. As much as you want it to be so, Adrien can’t carry everywhere.” Wanda explained calmly.

Plagg pouted and said “Fine but there better be Camembert in my lunch.”

Wanda nodded and looked at SB who was giving the Bubblegum Pink and Red lunch boxes to Marinette and Tikki. “Oh right!” SB said as he grabbed the Gray and Bright Green lunch boxes and walking over to Adrien and Plagg. He handed Adrien the Gray lunch box before kneeling down to Plagg’s height giving him the Bright Green lunch box.

“And I put extra Camembert so you can be an extra good boy today!” SB smiled.

Plagg grinned hopping up and down. “Cool! Thanks, SB!”

If you couldn’t tell the girls are Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her little sister Tikki while the boys are Adrien Agreste and his little brother Plagg. Adrien is 15, Marinette is 14, and Tikki and Plagg are both five years old just like GIR. All four of them are originally from France actually and came around the same time about a few months before Poof was born so it was a little stressful for mom but dad handled it really well. Marinette and Adrien are also dating too and follow the same rules as Danny and Sam.

Marinette and Tikki’s parents tragically died in a car crash on a really rainy night while Marinette was babysitting Tikki. Her parents always dreamed of moving to America with their daughters to start a franchise of bakeries so that’s what Marinette told her grandmother, who really was too busy traveling to take care of her granddaughters. So she came over to America with them and dropped them both off here and they stayed here ever since.

Adrien and Plagg’s story is a bit more troubling. See shortly after Plagg was born Adrien’s mother went missing and Adrien’s father became more and more closed off towards his sons. His father wanted the Agreste name to be absolutely perfect with no smudges what so ever. So he forced Adrien to be a model and controlled what Adrien did, where he would go, who he would talk to, and even what he ate. Plagg though wasn’t as treated as “nice” as Adrien was. Their father didn’t see Plagg as his son due to his skin color and locked him away in a back bedroom. Adrien was the only one allowed to care for him and this caused Plagg to become inseparable with Adrien. After Adrien’s bold move of divorcing his father, he and Plagg were moved to be closer to their mother’s friends, the Bourgeois’, who lived in America leading them to come here.

Marinette is a lot like Jenny actually. She’s sweet, outgoing, and very into fashion. She’ll be the one most likely to help Jenny shop for clothes for us. This is because the boys don’t care except for Adrien, all Sam knows is Hot Topic, I get distracted by the simplest things, Dora is still new to this “teenage girl” thing, and Tikki, Vendetta, and Charlotte are way too young to understand. Though her differences from Jenny, Marinette is a bit more awkward in social situations and way clumsier than any of us. She has her moments of confidence though. Especially when she’s sticking up for Tikki or any of us for that matter.

Tikki is the polar opposite of both GIR and Plagg oddly enough. For a five-year-old, she is incredibly calm and quiet. Like to strange level. Of course, she’s extremely kind and loving towards us. Sometimes though she just quietly follows us around. She does this for cookies. We give her a cookie and she goes away to follow someone else. We know we shouldn’t be feeding her habit but that’s literally all we can do. She won’t accept anything else. The only one that doesn’t seem to mind is Marinette because she’s used to this. Tikki is a really sweet girl though.

Adrien is definitely a people person during parties but he’s actually much of an introvert due to his father’s “brainwashing”. We’ve been helping him get more freedom though. This has turned him into a more fun loving person. Oh sure he’s still kinda serious but he’s getting better. Unfortunately, Danny has gotten him into saying puns and it’s gotten kind of annoying. Still, Adrien is an extremely kind person despite what his father has done to him over the years and is being a big help to us with the smaller kids.

Plagg apparently used to be a very silent and obedient child under his father’s rule according to Adrien. Yeah... I don’t buy it for a second. To me at his best Plagg is carefree and sarcastic, at his worst he’s a lazy and sour little kid. He has become Timmy, Manny, and Snap’s protege when it comes to pranks. It sucks but it makes him happy so why not? Plagg is also an extremely picky eater. He will not eat anything unless we give him Camembert cheese with it. It’s kinda weird.

“By the way Mari? Tikki? Where’s Dora? Don’t tell me she’s still asleep.” Wanda said.

“Oh no. Perrito was whining earlier this morning so Dora took him out earlier than she usually does.” Marinette said as she bit into a banana.

Adrien came and wrapped an arm around Mari. “I think it was like six o’clock when she left cause I was in the bathroom with Plagg.”

“Well do you know when she’ll be back?” Wanda asked. Marinette tried to remember as Tikki tugged on her foster mother’s pant leg. “Yes, Tikki? What is it?”

Tikki starred at Wanda chewing on her poptart until she finally said: “Dora said she would be back before school.” Just as Tikki said that in walked a 12-year-old girl with tanned skin, long chocolate brown hair, and brown eyes holding a leash with a chocolate lab at the end of it.

“Lo Siento mama. Perrito really had to go to the bathroom,” (Translation: ‘Sorry mom.’ {Spanish}) the girl said.

Wanda sighed and said “It’s alright Dora. Just remember to take your phone with you next time you go out with Perrito. Okay?”

“Si, mama.” (Translation: ‘Yes, mom.’) Dora said letting Perrito off the leash to get his food. “By the way Patrick, could I have one of those little cookies for Perrito? He had a hard time going outside.” Dora asked. Patrick nodded as he got a special biscuit for Perrito and put it in Perrito’s food.

“Dora! Here’s your lunch box.” SB said handing the Fuschia lunch box to her.

Dora grinned and said “Gracias SB!” (Translation: ‘Thanks, SB!’)

That’s Dora Marquez. She’s 12 years old and roughly came here about a few months after I did. Like Manny, she came here from Mexico and moved to the states when she was around eight years old with her parents, her little brother and sister, her grandmother, and Perrito. When she turned nine her parents had to go back on an expedition of the rainforest to help some injured animals so while her grandmother and siblings stayed in the city, Dora and Perrito moved in with us.

Dora is a super kind person. Like to the point that it’s almost sickly sweet and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her get angry at like anything. She is kind of a tomboy like me so I look up to her a lot and like to go on adventures with her. Though lately she’s been getting more and more girly. I mean I don’t mind it so much it’s just that I either have to go with my sisters who are girlier than I am or with the boys who can be very, very annoying. Otherwise, though Dora is probably the nicest sister I could ask for.

“Dora? Did you see Bunsen or Snap get up for school?” Blik asked as Dora turned to him.

“Well I did see Bunsen’s door closed but I’m not sure about Snap,” Dora said shaking her head.

“Oh. Snap is still asleep. At least he was when I left our room.” Timmy said casually.

Wanda and Blik both facepalmed. “Sport, if he was still asleep why didn’t you wake him up?” Wanda asked.

“I dunno. I’m not his keeper!” Timmy argued.

Blik mumbled an ‘Oh my god.’ as Wanda asked: “Can one of you please go and remind your brothers that you can’t sleep in on a school day?”

“I’ll do it!” Sophie said raising her hand and then running upstairs.

“Thank you, sweetie!” Wanda called after her.

I guess it’s my turn to tell you about me huh? Like I said at the beginning my name is Sophie Hathaway and I’m 10 years old. I used to live in Hawaii with my biological family and we were all pretty happy. That was until my mother died when I was three then our family just started to drift apart. By the time I was six years old everyone was kinda placed where they needed to be and while I was supposed to go with my uncle, he was traveling too much to take care of me. So that’s how I ended up here a few years after Blik came but before Dora, Marinette, Tikki, Adrien, and Plagg. I still see some of my older siblings often enough and my dad comes to visit us once a month with my siblings Skylar, Silas, Liv, Nate, and Stef so it’s okay I guess.

I was really scared of everyone when I first got here though. The smells and sounds were all different and while I was used to having a big family these people were basically strangers to me. Also, I spoke Hawaiian primarily in my old house and now I am forced into English daily now which six-year-old me did not approve of at all. However, they were understanding knowing I needed time and over that time I learned to trust them which was very hard for me to do. Now I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

Sophie finally made it upstairs and was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the bathroom faucet running.

“Maybe Snap or Bunsen is already up?” Sophie thought as she knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, is someone in here?” A few seconds later a man with neatly combed green hair holding a little baby boy with a tuft of curly purple hair and purple pajamas came out of the bathroom. “Morning Dad! Morning Poof!” Sophie cooed at her little brother.

“Morning Muncha-Bunch,” Cosmo said kissing the top of her head.

That’s our dad Cosmo Cosma. He eloped with our mom! His mom never did forgive him for that but it’s fine. She stopped being mad at our mom when we came into the picture. She’s like the super cool grandma that brings us gifts like all the time.

Cosmo is our fun parent that likes to take us on trips and out to eat a lot. Though Wanda seems to rain him in when he goes too far because he can be a little careless at times but he definitely loves us. Like I said he’s the good cop to Wanda’s bad cop. He usually sneaks us dessert when Wanda scolds us too hard.

And that little baby he’s holding is our baby brother Poof. Poof is Mom and Dad’s only biological kid but despite that, they still love us equal. Poof is only like a year old so he’s the youngest of all of us

He is literally the sweetest thing. We all take turns looking after him. Except for Vendetta, Charlotte, GIR, Tikki, and Plagg. Four out the five of them should never be trusted with babies. I mean Tikki is arguably okay but everyone else is a disaster waiting to happen so just trust me on this. Don’t.

“So what are you doing upstairs? I thought you guys were ready for school?” Cosmo asked bouncing a gurgling Poof.

“Well most of us are but Snap, Bunsen, Charlotte, and Vendetta aren’t. They didn’t come downstairs.” Sophie explained.

“Well, I saw Snap was still in bed with his door open and your sisters are outside but not sure about Bunsen,” Cosmo said tapping his chin.

“Thanks, Dad! I’m gonna go figure this out.” Sophie said.

“Okay. Get your brothers up though. We are on the clock!” Cosmo said patting her head before heading downstairs with Poof gurgling.

“I will!” Sophie called back.

She made her way to Timmy and Snap’s room to see her light blond brother hugging his pillow dreaming. Sophie sat down on his bed and started to gently shake his shoulder. “Snap. C’mon you gotta get up. We gotta go to school.”

Snap groaned and gripped his pillow tighter. “Mmmm five more minutes Buckette…” He said in his thick Bronx accent.

“No, you need to get up like right now,” Sophie said sensing the urgency of the situation. “We leave in literally 15 minutes.” Snap snored loudly to indicate the conversation was over. Sophie narrowed her eyes and said, “You leave me no choice dear brother.” Sophie pulled back her covers, slipped her hands under Snap’s light blue t-shirt, and tasered his sides.

Snap flipped the heck out and made a girlish squeal before falling out of bed. “What the heck Buckette?!” Snap yelled his bright blue eyes glaring at her.

“Told you I was left no other choice.” Sophie shrugged sticking out her tongue.

That’s one of my younger older brothers, Snap White. He’s 10 like me and Timmy though he’s a few months older than Timmy. He came here about six months after Poof was born. He originally came from a foster home in Greenland before moving to the states. Specifically the Bronx part of New York City which is where he gained his accent. So his speaking is a mix of West Greenlandic and English. He didn’t really enjoy being moved again so he acted out a lot which concerned my parents. He got super mad at a teacher for telling him his superhero clothes were ridiculous and put glue on their chair which Mom and Dad were not happy about. Then one day he saw me drawing and asked me if I was an artist. I said yes and suddenly he’s super cuddled up to me. Cut to a day later and we are basically best friends. He tells me that his cape is actually his old baby blanket and it’s the only thing that makes him feel secure. I told Mom and Dad and they took care of it. Since then Snap has been one of my closest brothers.

Snap can be really stubborn about things he thinks he’s entitled to like you just saw with the sleep problem. He’s always looking for ways to get out of boring things like adult parties or school and tries dragging us along with him. He is super clingy though like in a physical sense. He’ll cling to your arm, random hugs, hold your hand, etc. I think he may have abandonment issues but I don’t really wanna say anything to him since he’s just gonna deny them to be a “real man”.

“Þú ert að borga fyrir þetta.” (Translation: ‘You are going to pay for this.’ {West Greenlandic}) Snap glared as he put on his mask and cape.

Sophie laughed and shot back in Hawaiian, “Inā 'oe makemake i wale loaʻa i loko o ka wahi mua au makemake ole i kūpono ai i loko o ka hoʻokolokoloʻiaʻana” (Translation: ‘If you would have just gotten up in the first place I wouldn’t have resulted in the torture.’)

“I’m just saying when you walk through that door this afternoon you are dead,” Snap said as he put on his gloves and boots before walking out the door. Sophie just responded by blowing a raspberry at him. Now she was going towards Bunsen’s room.

Sophie noticed the door was closed so she knocked on it. “Bunsen? You up? We gotta get to school.” After waiting for a minute Sophie quietly opened the door to see Bunsen’s St. Bernard puppy, Boodles, sitting at the door waiting to be let out for breakfast. “Okay, Boodles go get breakfast,” Sophie said pointing downstairs. Boodles barked and ran downstairs. Sophie quietly went into Bunsen’s room and shook his shoulder while he slept. “Bunsen we gotta go to school. Wake up.” Bunsen slowly woke up and grabbed his glasses rubbing his eyes.

“Sophie? What’s wrong? Why are you rushing me?”

“We need to go to school in like 15 minutes,” Sophie stated.

“WHAT?!” Bunsen screamed as he rushed out of bed and to put his school clothes on.

That’s one of the newest members of this family Bunsen Knai’livac. He’s 12 years old and originally came from Taiwan because his parents thought more opportunities would arise here. He’s still getting used to being with us and speaking English mostly instead of Chinese. He got here about two months ago but he’s made progress at least. The first thing he connected with was Boodles in a pet store so naturally, Mom and Dad got Boodles to give him some stability. He still does have panic attacks about breaking the rules cause he grew up in such a strict household. We’ve been getting really good at calming him down and he’s even joined theater at school!

People who don’t really know Bunsen would describe him very loud and excitable which I mean is true to a certain degree. However, to us, we know him better than some strangers. He has the anxiety of letting his parents down constantly on his shoulders that he wouldn’t be a real functioning member of society. He can be a total theater nerd sometimes but for the most part, he’s pretty quiet and nice with the occasional bits of snark here and there.

“Ó, wǒ de shàngdì. Wǒmen yào chídàole wǒmen de lǎoshī huì shēngqì, māmā hé bàba huì shēngqì. Nàme tāmen bù zài xūyào wǒle!” (Translation: Oh my god. We are going to be late! Our teachers are going to be mad and Mom and Dad are going to be mad. Then they won't want me anymore! {Chinese}) Bunsen ranted off quickly as he got dressed.

Sophie sighed and put her hands on his shoulders to calm him down. “Bunsen it’s okay. You made a mistake. Nobody is gonna send you away for that Bunsie Boo.” Sophie kissed his nose to drive her point home.

Bunsen smiled a little and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Soph.”

“You’re welcome. Now finish getting ready and get downstairs.” Sophie said going out of the room.

Sophie made her way downstairs with Snap close behind. She didn’t think much of it until Snap’s hands found his way to her sides and Sophie squealed and started laughing. “Snap! What are you doing?!”

“Hefnd er mín!” (Translation: Vengeance is mine! {West Greenlandic}) Snap shouted. Bunsen passed them giving his siblings a weird look as Snap tickled their sister and Sophie laughed like a doofus and clung to the stair railing.

“Jenny! Snap is trying to kill Sophie again!” Bunsen yelled as he entered the kitchen.

Jenny poked her head out and glared at Snap. “Snap! Leave your sister alone! Look at her! She’s dying!”

Snap groaned and rolled his eyes complying with his older sister’s request. “Fine!”

Snap continued to walk down the stairs smirking as Sophie panted and clung to the railing. “Oh thank the gods he stopped.”

Suddenly a knock came from the front door. “I’ll get it!~” SB called as he opened the front door.

A 10-year-old boy with poofy blond hair, hazel eyes, and wearing a dark brown aviator jacket with a glow stick bracelet is on his left wrist was standing there with a smile.

“Oh hello, Xavier! You here to go to school with us?”

“Yup! Managed to escape my stick in the mud parents. Is Sophie around?”

“Hey, Xavier!” Sophie waved as she laid on the stairs.

“What are you doing lying on the stairs?” Xavier asked before sitting next to her.

“Snap nearly killed me!” Sophie yelled loud enough for Snap to hear.

“Not my fault you are so sensitive!” Snap laughed from the kitchen.

“I mean he’s not wrong.” Xavier shrugged sheepishly as he sat next to her on the stairs. Sophie playfully hit his arm in response.

That’s my best friend Xavier. He’s 10 years old like me and is a week older than me. While he isn’t part of the family he might as well be. His parents are kind of overbearing so he likes coming over here more. I met him when his family was vacationing in Hawaii. Since then we’ve been inseparable. He was the one who helped me with my English and helped me to adjust to mainland America. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine living without him. He’s just always there for me and gets along with the family well. He’s kind of like the unofficial kid of the family where he’s part of the family but “legally” we aren’t responsible for him. So that’s pretty cool.

He’s super intelligent in the book smart kind of way. I remember when his family visited Hawaii and we became friends, he would read on the beach and I would just listen to him. Sometimes I would even fall asleep to him reading. Xavier is also 87% of my impulse control. Like if I didn’t have him, I’d probably would've died by now from a stupid decision.

“What? I’m just saying you are and there is nothing wrong that.” Xavier said putting up his hands in a defensive position.

“Ugh, you’ve spent too much time with this family. I swear to the gods. You are starting to sound like most of my brothers. You better not start selling me out to them.” Sophie scolded. “BLIK does that enough!”

“Hey! I have never done that in the four years you’ve lived here.” Blik argued as he walked into the room

“Yesterday you sold me out for a root beer to Danny!” Sophie argued.

“That wasn’t a sellout that was a trade. Very different. Now can you please get our sisters from the backyard so we can leave?” Blik smirked.

As Xavier said “Yup” Sophie let out a less enthusiastic, mumbled “Yeah.”

Blik grinned and said “Oh Timothy!~ Sophie needs-”

Sophie immediately hit his arm. “No. Shut up. I’m fine.”

Blik chuckled ruffling up her hair. “Fine then.”

“C’mon let’s go get them,” Sophie said getting off the stairs and heading towards the backyard with Xavier in tow. They walked into a pretty big backyard which has an above ground pool, a trampoline, a small playground, some swings hanging from trees, a sandbox, and a playpen for Poof to keep himself from roaming anywhere he pleases. It also has quite a lot of trees as well. Sophie spotted two girls around eight years old huddled in a corner doing… something? Sophie and Xavier both couldn’t tell what they were doing. They could only see the backs of the short, curly blonde hair of the peach skinned girl and the long, brown hair styled in messy pigtails of the much paler girl who seemed to be holding something.

“Um, Vendetta? Charlotte? Mom says to get inside. It’s time for school and Grudge still hasn’t eaten.” Sophie said pointing her thumb to the back door.

Both girls turned their heads around revealing the blonde girl’s bright blue eyes and the brunette girl’s dimmed green eyes.

“Okay Sophie!” the blonde girl said chipperly as she skipped over to hug Sophie’s waist. “Grudge made a new friend and me and Vendetta watched it!” Charlotte said bouncing up and down happily.

“What do you mean new frien- oh my god!” Xavier shouted as Vendetta came over holding her pet raccoon, Grudge, who had a snake in his mouth. A dead snake in his mouth. Lovely.

Sophie put her face into her hands and groaned. “Vendetta. You know what mom and dad have said about Grudge… erm… “making friends” with wild snakes,” Sophie censoring herself for the sake of Charlotte.

“Stupid Raccoon wanted to make a fiend.” Vendetta stated simply in her thick Bulgarian accent. “That is not mine or Charlotte’s fault.”

“Don’t you mean friend?” Xavier asked curiously.

“I said what I said.” Vendetta shot back rather rudely.

Xavier gave a look to Sophie as Sophie sighed, “Look. I’m your big sister now so tell Grudge to drop his snake friend or fiend or whatever and get in the house so we can go to school.”

“Fine. Stupid Raccoon. Drop.” Vendetta commanded as Grudge spat out the snake.

“Yay! Time for school! Come on Vendetta!” Charlotte cheered as she grabbed Vendetta’s hand skipping into the house.

“Do not touch me you stupid blue girl!” Vendetta yelled as they both disappeared into the house.

Xavier turned his face back to Sophie and said: “I’m sorry but what the heck is wrong with your new sister?”

“Oh, so many things…” Sophie sighed shaking her head.

So like you just saw those are our new additions to the family Charlotte Winfrey, Vendetta Mortcheva, and Vendetta’s pet raccoon… yes, raccoon… Grudge. Charlotte and Vendetta are only eight years old and just got transferred here last month. They got transferred here from their old foster home in a place called Clamberg because the foster home was terrified of Vendetta and her and Charlotte are a package deal.

I’ll explain Charlotte first because really. She’s a lot easier to understand than Vendetta is.

Charlotte got put into the foster care system when she was super young. Both her parents died while attending a music festival outside of Vermont in a mass shooting, unfortunately. This caused Charlotte to be placed in Clamberg with her only known living relative, her grandmother Charlene. The sad thing is that Charlotte still doesn’t know her parents died. Charlene told her that they were both astronauts living up in a space station. Nobody has had the heart to tell her yet. Charlene got too sick to raise Charlotte so when she was six years old Charlotte was placed in the foster care system.

Charlotte is a super sweet girl. Like probably the sweetest you’ll ever meet. She loves everything in the world and everyone in it. Probably if you take her to Disney World she would be smiling the whole time and say hi to all the characters. Even the villains! She is a little… “slow”… sometimes though. She doesn’t quite understand what's happening most of the time unless someone, usually Vendetta, tells her.

Speaking of Vendetta, let's talk about her because oh boy. There’s a lot to talk about.

So as you noticed by her accent Vendetta is from Bulgaria. She moved to America when she was a toddler with both of her parents, her older sister Vasilika, and her twin sister Joanna. Soon after her parents had three more children. Vendetta’s younger twin brothers, Darian & Valko, and her baby sister Rosica. However starting after Darian and Valko were born, Vendetta’s father started to get more...abusive towards his wife and older daughters. Well, TWO of his older daughters. He never laid a hand on Joanna or any of his younger children. He did frequently hurt his wife Violetta and Vasilika but it was Vendetta who got the raw end of the deal. Vendetta’s father, if you can even call him that now, considered Vendetta his child from hell. It wasn’t just physical abuse either. When Vendetta was finally admitted to the foster after the incident (which I’ll get to in a minute) she was malnourished and was so dirty that initial reports had Vendetta’s skin and hair color way darker than it actually was.

About the incident. One night Vendetta’s “father” had been drinking quite a lot. Violetta tried to get him to stop for the children’s sake but that just made him angrier. He ended up shouting so loud he had woken up Vasilika, Vendetta, and Joanna and in a moment of panic, Vasilika grabbed the family gun. When the girls got downstairs that had found their father had just finished strangling their mother to death. When he saw his three daughters standing there witnessing him kill his wife. He was enraged and started moving towards Vasilika first and she ended up shooting him once in the head. He fell dead on the floor inches from his now dead wife. Joanna had broken down into tears. Vasilika had no idea what she had just done and just stood there in shock. But Vendetta… oh, Vendetta. She was furious. She began yelling at Vasilika for not doing that sooner. That they all could have been freed earlier if she would have thought of this. She yelled at Joanna to stop crying and blamed her for being the “perfect” one. She yelled at the corpses of her parents. Her mother for not being stronger and her father for being a complete asshole to his own wife and children. She even yelled at herself for being a ‘devil child.’ The only people she didn’t blame for this was her younger brothers and baby sister since they had nothing to do with this. Later in the early morning, Vasilika called the police and all six of them were put in the custody of CPS. Three of them scarred for life and three of them too young to understand what was happening.

After that Vendetta essentially disowned her sisters and refuses to talk to or about them. She doesn’t talk about her parents either. She still visits her younger siblings as long as Vasilika and Joanna aren’t there. When she got to the foster home in Clamberg she never played with the other kids and spent nights alone in the backyard. The entire staff and all of the children were terrified of her. Accidents started happening around the home and they blamed Vendetta but none of them could prove it. She even one night came back with a raccoon which was Grudge. He was trained to essentially be a house cat. This confused the staff for two reasons. One: Raccoons are not native to Clamberg. So where did she find this raccoon? Two: How did she even train this creature? The staff had no idea on either of these questions and they weren’t about to question Vendetta of all people so they let her keep Grudge. It was just the two of them for two years until Charlotte got there. She was the only person that wasn’t afraid of Vendetta and that struck a nerve with Vendetta. So Vendetta became Charlotte’s soul defender even though she still insulted Charlotte from time to time, though Charlotte clearly doesn’t mind.

Cut to a month ago where the Clamberg foster home had enough of Vendetta’s reign and sent her here far away from Clamberg. Charlotte just came with cause they are now a package deal.

Vendetta doesn't seem that bad as her previous foster home made her out to be. Sure she’s dark, sarcastic, weird, sometimes super mean, and cusses in Bulgarian thinking we can’t hear her when we can. She’s also super bright though and probably the smartest girl in the house. We just wish she would relax a little bit and realize we won’t let her get hurt here but we also realize she needs time and we will give her that.

...What? I told you Vendetta is a complicated creature with a complicated history.

“Let’s just go so we can finally get to school. Max is gonna chew the two of us out if we are late again.” Sophie said tiredly. Xavier nodded and followed her back into the house and into the kitchen. They stood next to Charlotte and Vendetta who was letting Grudge eat his clams from the palm of her hand. The two of them just watched the chaos conduct in the large kitchen as everybody was shouting over each other.

“Alright, kids! Listen up!” Cosmo clapped loudly as all his children proceeded to quiet down. “Okay everybody go upstairs one last time. If you have a pet put them up in your room or if the pet is in a cage in your room feed them. Double check you have everything and then proceed to the van as planned. Ready? Go!” Cosmo yelled.

Sophie picked up Lion and motioned for Xavier to follow her. She was followed up the stairs by Jimmy carrying Goddard, Timmy carrying Sparky, Danny carrying Cujo, SB carrying Gary, Patrick carrying Rocky, ZIM leading Minimoose, Bunsen carrying Boodles, Dora leading Perrito, and Vendetta carrying Grudge. The other siblings followed up the stairs to double check their rooms to not forget anything. All except Blik whose room was the garage and Poof who was safe in his mother’s arms.

Sophie lead Xavier into her room and closed the door behind them.It was a small bedroom with a tiny closet, a small bed, and a small bookshelf. When they move Sophie requested she get her own room since she was a growing young lady now and thought it be better if she didn't share a room with Timmy and Snap. Xavier flopped down on Sophie’s bed as Sophie put Lion in his cat carrier. Lion meowed in protest as Sophie answered back “I know Lion you don’t like it but it’s only for the morning.”

“Do you think he can really understand you?” Xavier asked.

“Mmm, I like to think he does.” Sophie answered as she went to her closet and pulled out a box labeled ‘Special Things.’ She rummaged through it and pulled out two books. One was was a glittery sketchbook while the other was a scrapbook with the title of ‘Family is Forever.’ She hugged them close to her chest before stuffing them into her backpack. “Okay, we can go now,” Sophie said smiling.

“Finally. You know Max is gonna kick us out of the group if we keep showing up late.” Xavier said getting up from her bed.

“No, he can’t,” Sophie said as she opened up her door and turned her light off. “First off he would have to find a new second to replace me. Second, I basically own his soul at this point. So even if wanted too he couldn’t kick us out.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier shrugged.

Sophie went to each room to check everybody was out and essentially take roll for their mother as one of her chores.

Timmy had put up Sparky in his crate as Snap fed his hamster Musty and his pet frog Wiggums. For two fifth grade boys, they could sure make a mess of everything. Sophie was glad she moved out of there.

Jimmy and ZIM put Goddard and Minimoose on chargers and left their neat bedroom. It was neat because they both pretty much spent all their time in the basement lab with Vendetta.

Danny put up Cujo in his crate as Adrien put on his mother’s ring to wear on his right hand and Plagg grabbed his black cat plush from the top bunk of his and Adrien’s bunk beds. Plagg refused to sleep with GIR and Poof in fear of losing Adrien.

SB had put Gary in his cat carrier and grabbed his clean uniform while Patrick carefully put Rocky on the side table on his side of the room. The two had shared a room every since Patrick got there and they decided to never ever switch.

Tak had fed Navis, his and his best friend Jeera’s shared guinea pig, as Manny grabbed his soccer uniform for the day. Tak wanted the room with the biggest window and Manny just wanted a huge bed so they ended up with the biggest room on the floor.

GIR had grabbed his green dog plush and Poof’s baby bag from their room as a favor for Wanda and Cosmo. ZIM didn't even want to be near GIR as he slept. GIR had his own room until Poof was born.

Finally, on the boy's side of the hall, Bunsen had put Boodles in his crate and grabbed his script for play rehearsal. Bunsen just had his own room for now until another boy showed up at the foster home.

Meanwhile, on the girl’s side of the hall, Sam had grabbed an umbrella, since it was supposed to be bright that day, and Jenny grabbed some fashion magazines for her and her best friend who was a girl, Misty, to share at lunch. Their room consisted of a lot of black, pink, and purple. The color scheme was a compromise.

While Dora had put Perrito in his crate, Marinette grabbed her late mother’s earrings to wear that day and Tikki grabbed her ladybug plush from the bottom bunk of her’s and Marinette’s shared bunk beds. As the only little girl in the house, Tikki ended up sleeping with her sister and Dora didn’t mind the extra roommate.

Finally, Vendetta set down Grudge down on her gothic styled bed, since she refused to put him in any confinements, and Charlotte fed her hamster Buttons and her bird Buttons 2 before grabbing her brightly colored girl scout uniform along with Vendetta’s black girl scout uniform. Their room was like night and day. Vendetta’s side was green and black the only decoration being her striped blanket… which was also green and black. Charlotte’s side, on the other hand, was bright blues and pinks with posters and frilly things just thrown everywhere.

Sophie counted each of her siblings going down the stairs before yelling down to her parents. “We are all ready to go, mom and dad!”

“Finally! Let’s go already!” Blik groaned as everyone went outside and piled into the large van.

“Okay, Pacific Grove High School, Summerfield Jr. High, Sunnyside Elementary, Blue River Kindergarten, Grandview School for the Culinary Arts, Seaside Community College, and then the bank. Got it dear?” Wanda asked. “Got it and away we go!” Cosmo announced as he drove away from the house.

Cosmo was driving while Wanda sat in the passenger seat. Jimmy and Timmy were arguing about something stupid again while Danny tried to break them up with Sam chuckling at the three. SB was going over some new recipes he’s learned while Patrick drooled at all of them. Tak was messing with his seatbelt as ZIM was ranting about this kid named Dib. GIR, Tikki, and Plagg were playing with Poof happily. Manny was checking himself in the mirror, Jenny and Marinette were checking their Amazon account for new deals as Adrien listened, and Blik was reading the paper. Snap was telling Sophie something cool while she listened writing in her journal, Xavier read a book, and Bunsen was going over his lines once more as Dora giggled while Charlotte talked to her with Vendetta rolling her eyes in disgust at the two.

So yeah that’s my insane family except for my brother who's in college right now. You’ll meet him later! Anyway, it’s a miracle I’ve survived this long. I’m glad I’m here though. I feel loved where I am and I know that I will always have a place with them even if it seems like nowhere will let me fit in.

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