A Tale Of Multifandom By Blurdle

Chapter Sixteen: It's Time For Big Fun ― Turd

"Can we at least not show up there together?", Sam cried. "Woah, there. Since when am I that embarrassing to you?" They were standing in Sam's room, where four different flannels were lying on his bed. "You're not. It's just– I don't know, Dean. Your college and my college feels so different. You're going to the party to get drunk and make out with at least seven different people. Sherlock thought it would be fun to watch and to read, so that's why I am going."

Or at least, that's what he thought his evening would look like.

"To read? You really chose the nerd, didn't you. But Sam, you know what happens to people who read on parties. The karaoke spotlight chooses them and they have to sing with their future love interest–", Dean said meaningful.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Come on. Don't High School Musical me, Dean." He pushed his brother out of his room, or tried at least.

Dean, who could easily make Sam trip over him now, if he wanted to, raised a finger, "It's not just High School Musical. This also happens in Love, Simon. Now that means something. It was a good movie." Sam, still pushing, snorted, "The book was way better."

–

"Amelia, you will wear that dress!", she heard her yelling through the whole apartment. "Mom, for the last time. This is college. This is my time. I am in college, not you. Stop trying to make this your thing." Amy slammed the door. It was the sixth time they had this fight in the last few days. "I should have never told her about this stupid party...", Amy groaned. She looked over to the outfit lying on her bed. It was pretty much what she was wearing everyday.

A black skirt, a red oversize shirt and a leather jacket on top. It was a little fancier than usual, but nothing special. She didn't feel like dressing up just for those other freshmen. There was a pounding against her door. "Amelia, come on. Open up." Her daughter opened the door from the inside, "Do not call me Amelia."

Her mother held in one hand one of her short cocktail dresses, one like she was wearing, and in the other hand a cocktail glass. Amy sighed, "How many drinks did you have tonight?" Her mother didn't answer. "Didn't you promise the guy from the youth welfare service, that you wouldn't have more than one glass a day, so I can stay with you."

Her mom was still just standing there with the dress. Amy took it. "It always ends like this, doesn't it?"

–

( it's me again, adding some overdramatic backstory. don't let me write that, the parents will end up as alcoholics or dead or both. so, let's get this party going, right? blunk, please fuck this shit up. i want a romance. )