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yeonjunszn · 2 years

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THE MARRIAGE PACT — 1

PAIRING: huening kai x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

GENRES: fluff﹒ angst﹒crack(?)

WARNINGS: mature language, a total of 2 timeskips, so obvi they r aged up for plot purposes, mentions of engagements, mentions of alcohol, an Argument — my bad bffs y’all are gonna hate me

SUMMARY: you’ve known huening kai since you were twelve years old, you know, geeky little middle schoolers. then high school came around and suddenly you became the object of everyone’s affections— except no one ever made a move on you. out of both desperation and the sheer idiocy of being fifteen, you and kai make a marriage pact. when the time finally comes to fulfill the contract, secrets are unveiled and feelings unravel. but it’s nothing more than a silly pact, right?

MORE: so sorry this is so late but it’s still huening’s birthday for me and i was able to get this out FINALLY after going through a writers block for it — though the series is actually NOT done 😭 also not proofread cause i was too lazy

PLAYLIST

MASTERLIST

PREV 💍 PROLOGUE

NEXT 💍 ???

PRESENT DAY

“No, no, no,” you sigh. “That doesn’t go there. It goes over by the dessert table. We’ve already been over this.”

“Sorry, Miss L/n.”

The poor venue staff members bow their heads, carrying the sign over to its designated area. You pinch the bridge of your nose, sitting in one of the guest chairs. Soobin notices your frustration from his spot near the altar, where he and his fiancée are rehearsing for tomorrow, and excuses himself. He takes the seat beside you.

“Are you okay?“ The older male’s voice is comforting, easing the tension in your face and shoulders almost immediately.

“Yeah. Just a bit stressed. But it’s fine! Don’t worry. I’m taking on all of that so you won’t have to.” You smile at him.

About a year ago, a couple months after the announcement that he was engaged, Soobin asked if you would help in planning his wedding. You’d already done a few successful ones at this point, with the help of other planners at your agency, but this would be the first completely on your own. Even if it was nerve wracking as hell, you couldn’t tell him no. Soobin had been one of your greatest friends since high school.

“Okay. Just tell me if you need to take a break. I’ll understand, you know?” He wags a finger at you. You nod, shooing him back to his soon-to-be-wife.

You stand from the chair, exiting the area reserved for the wedding. You’d rented out an outdoor venue, due to the fact that it was late spring, early summer. It was perfect to hold both the ceremony and the reception, just big enough to house each.

As soon as you step out into the parking lot, you run your hands down your face. You knew the decorating process was nothing compared to how it would be tomorrow, the actual day of. But even so, you felt like your legs were going to fall off and your eyes were so heavy, you could sleep standing up.

“Did someone call for entertainment?”

You drop your hands, your features lighting up at the sight of two familiar figures. You run over to hug them, already less stressed. “Jun! Gyu!”

The taller catches you with a laugh, ruffling your hair. “Hey, Y/n, long time no see.”

“No shit! It’s been, what? Since Soobin told us he was getting married? A year?” You whine, resting your head on Yeonjun’s shoulder. “Gahhh, it’s been too long. I’ve missed you idiots. What are you doing here?”

“Well we heard our hotshot wedding planner might need some reinforcements.” Beomgyu says. You roll your eyes playfully, flicking him on the forehead.

“Seriously though, I was so close to asking one of the other planners at the agency to take over for tomorrow. I am so tired,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “When’s Taehyun coming in?”

Yeonjun furrows his eyebrows. “Tomorrow morning. With Huening. Did you not know?”

The mention of Huening Kai has you snapping out of whatever sleepy stupor you were in. Your wide eyes are enough answer for Yeonjun and he sighs, shifting his weight onto one hip.

“You still haven't talked to him?” He frowns. “It’s been a year, Y/n. You used to be best friends. What the hell happened?”

You look down at the pavement with an unreadable expression. He was right, you used to be best friends. Emphasis on the words ‘used to.’ You didn’t want to relive the moment the two of you cut contact with each other, so you don’t tell him. That was something you would take to the grave if possible.

“Are you at least gonna try to remain civil for Soobin’s sake?” Beomgyu asks, glancing behind you to catch a glimpse of the preparations within the venue. “I know how snappy you can get under pressure so just make sure to keep yourself as calm as you can tomorrow, despite the fact that it’ll probably be the most stressful day of your life.”

“Wow, Gyu, you’re really good at cheering people up.” You say sarcastically, shoving his shoulder lightly.

“It’s my specialty.”

ONE YEAR AGO

You and Kai meet eyes at the same time, raising identical eyebrows at the text message Soobin had sent to your group chat.

He wanted all of you to meet up for dinner later that night, the message requested so seriously that it felt rather ominous. You had no idea what it could be about, but don’t question it, pressing play on the movie you’d paused to entertain the text.

A yawn escapes your lips just minutes later, so you rest your head on Kai’s shoulder, missing the way he tenses at the action. It was only two in the afternoon and Soobin didn’t want to meet until around seven. You assumed a quick cat nap wouldn’t hurt.

Except a quick cat nap became a four hour nap and you found yourself rushing to get ready in your joint apartment with Kai. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through social media as you scrambled back and forth from your room to the bathroom.

“I told you to wake up like two hours ago but you just pushed me and told me to leave you alone.” He calls out.

“Fuck off!”

You adjust the clasp on your heel, checking yourself out in the mirror before grabbing your phone and wallet, finally meeting Kai in the living room. The clack of your shoes on the wooden floor causes him to look up, his breath getting caught in his throat.

He’s known you for twelve whole years and you still manage to knock the wind out of him whenever you enter a room.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You exhale, smoothing out your blouse.

He merely nods, afraid of his voice failing him. Even when you were in middle school, he thought you were cute. The moment he found you in the classroom during lunch, his heart was stolen right from his chest. You were the thief that he couldn’t dare blame. Your glasses, though dorky, made the eyes behind them look so innocent and pure. He was hooked from day one.

You had grown and matured so much since then, but as he grew alongside you, so did his feelings. They blossomed from a tween crush to full fledged infatuation. Now, dressed in a silky spaghetti strapped top, mom jeans and skinny heels, twenty four year old you had a death grip on Kai.

He follows behind you like a lost puppy as you exit your apartment and lock up, making your way to his car in the spot right in front of the stairs. (Thank god, because your feet would’ve already started killing you if you had to walk any further.)

The car ride to the restaurant is basked in a somewhat comfortable silence, nothing but the low hum of the radio surrounding you. Kai knows his hold on the steering wheel is a bit absurd, his knuckles nearing the color of snow. He couldn’t focus much with you in the passenger seat, the scent of your perfume (the one that drove him insane) filling his nostrils intoxicatingly. He’s lucky his mind stayed aware of what he was doing or else he would’ve crashed long ago.

“Why do you think Bin wants to have dinner?” You suddenly ask as you roll to a stop at a red light.

The only person from your friend group you saw regularly nowadays, was Kai, due to the fact that you lived together. Soobin still lived in the same city as the two of you with his girlfriend, but with his demanding job, he was usually really busy. You made a habit of seeing him about once a month. Taehyun, Yeonjun, and Beomgyu all resided overseas, in the States. The first two had become successful songwriters, while the third made a name for himself as a producer and moved to Los Angeles where they would be in the hotspot for their professions. They came back home a few times a year, this week being one of those.

Kai was also a songwriter, but decided to stay in Korea with you. Whenever you asked why, he’d always give a vague answer. You wished he would just tell you, but didn’t have room to complain, seeing as your best friend didn’t pack up and move across the world from you. You don’t think you could handle having anyone else as a roommate anyways, and you needed someone to split rent with since you hadn’t planned enough weddings yet to be making extreme bank.

“Don’t know. It was a little out of character for him to text so suddenly though.” He responds, turning into the lot of the restaurant.

“Hmm, maybe it wasn’t meant to be sudden? TaeYeonGyu are in town this week, and we didn’t know they were coming until like a couple days ago. He could’ve been waiting for them to come home so we could all be there,” you shrug, unbuckling your seatbelt after he’s parked. “The only question is ‘what for’.”

Kai exhales through his nose, locking his car before you head inside. The stares you receive from random men as you walk up to the host stand has him feeling protective, though he knows it’s not his place. And even if he was here with you platonically, the attention you receive makes him shrink in on himself, like he’s not worthy of standing beside you in public.

Thankfully, the hostess shows you to the table that Soobin reserved a minute later and you find all your friends already waiting for you. After standard greetings, you sit between Kai and Beomgyu. Yeonjun sits on the other side of the latter, Soobin next to him, then his girlfriend directly across from you, and Taehyun on your roommate’s right— bringing it full circle.

Conversation flows smoothly, picking up like you’d all seen each other a day prior. It isn’t until you’re halfway through your meal that the eldest of your group decides to ask the question you were curious about the entire evening.

“So, Soobin, as much as I’m glad we were able to catch up while me and the other two are in town, what was the reason behind this dinner?” Yeonjun clears his throat, setting his glass of wine back on the table.

The ravenette glances to his left at his girlfriend, the couple sharing a look that thoroughly confuses the rest of you. He licks his lips, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin before answering. “Well, the five of you know that we’ve,” he gestures between him and his significant other. “Been together for almost four years now and I don’t see myself being with anyone else ever again. So…”

He reaches under the table to grab her hand, lifting it up with the backside facing you. Right on her ring finger sits a pretty engagement ring, glimmering in the dim lighting of the restaurant. You gasp, your hands cupping your cheeks.

“Oh my god! Congrats, guys!”

“Dude, what the hell, why didn’t you tell us you were proposing?” Beomgyu clutches the front of his shirt dramatically, like it physically hurt him that he wasn’t briefed on the situation. “This is the ultimate act of best friend betrayal. You always tell your homies when making a life altering decision.”

Soobin’s girlfriend fiancée giggles at the distressed look on her boyfriend’s face when he says that. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because you say dumb shit like that. And also you have a big mouth, so I didn’t think that you could keep it a secret.”

Taehyun, Yeonjun, and Kai also join in on the laughter until they realize that he implied they couldn’t be trusted with that information either. Then the conversation derailed from congratulatory remarks, to the five boys arguing about the ‘true strength’ of their friendship. Your lips curl up at their antics, continuing to finish whatever food was left on your dish.

You were happy for the pair, glad Soobin had found the One. You liked his girlfriend too. She was nice and wasn’t shy around y’all. You appreciated that she didn’t make you feel uncomfortable for being the only girl in a group full of guys, instead expressing her gratitude for you and your ability to keep up with them for so long.

“Even though I’m still heartbroken that Soobin didn’t fill us in on his plan to get engaged, I think this calls for a celebration,” Yeonjun lightly taps his knife against the side of his wine glass. “We should go out after this.”

“There’s a club right next to the hotel we’re staying at, which is pretty convenient.” Taehyun adds, sticking his fork and a piece of his steak in his mouth.

You would’ve jumped for joy at the opportunity to go out and let loose with your friends, but with the shoes you were wearing, you didn’t think your feet couldn’t withstand it. Kai notices the way you look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you and taps your shoulder. You turn to him with a small frown.

“Ugh, I’d love to go, but my toes are screaming for help, Hyuka. I think we should go home unless you wanna carry me everywhere all night.” You sigh.

His pulse quickens the slightest bit at the thought of carrying you around bridal style, but he pushes it away instantaneously. Huening Kai could not be perceived as a simp, not when he was in his mid-twenties. “I have one of your pairs of emergency sandals in my trunk.”

You smile widely, turning back to the table who was still discussing where you would be going. He thinks it’s the curl of your lips that make him significantly more nervous for that night than he should be. He thinks that with enough alcohol in his system, he’ll pour everything out to you and you’ll know the way he’s felt all this time. It scares the shit out of him.

And it’s those exact nerves that have him hesitant to get out of his car once you’ve arrived at the club Taehyun had suggested. The fluorescent neon sign in front is taunting him, like it knows what will happen before he does, and he doesn’t like the sinking feeling in his stomach one bit.

However, the twinkle of excitement in your eye manages to distract him, effectively dragging him into the building. It spurs him to swipe his card for the cover fee, paying for the both of you instinctively. You wrap your arms around his bicep as you continue inside, yelling over the loud music so he could hear you.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Is all he says, a shrug following.

Your friend group claims an empty high table a few feet from the dance floor, you and Soobin’s fiancée staying behind while the guys went to get drinks. You learn that he had proposed a week ago and was originally going to announce it over text, until she convinced him to do otherwise. He was in the process of planning a group FaceTime when Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and Taehyun revealed they’d be coming home for a week, which then led to him putting together the dinner.

A couple drinks later and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed, even ordering a round of tequila shots despite fucking hating tequila. Kai watches with a deep fondness as you dance carelessly with Soobin’s fiancée, your expression as bright as the sign outside— and just as teasing, too. He downs the rest of his drink, hoping that it quells the hammering behind his rib cage rather than fuel it.

He needed to last through the remainder of this night and wait one more year. It was just one more year until the two of you would fulfill that silly little pact you created twelve years ago. (If you were still single by then, at least.) Then he could confess to you in the most romantic way possible, complete with the ‘mandatory’ proposal. (It wasn’t really seen as such in his eyes since he’d choose to marry you in a heartbeat, given the decision.)

“Why don’t you just say something to her already?” Taehyun speaks up from beside him, nudging his shoulder.

“I-I can’t,” Kai swallows, his eyes completely focused on you. “I’m scared.”

The older male rolls his eyes. “Of what? You’re both adults. This situation can be discussed maturely, even if she doesn’t feel the same. I don’t think something like that is enough to ruin a bond as strong as the one you have.”

His words ring in his ears louder than the club music. You knew each other like the back of your hands. Sure he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings and it might be a little awkward at first, but he’d rather have you in his life as a friend than not at all. Besides, there was still the off chance that you would follow through with the marriage pact, despite not mentioning it in a few years.

“I’ll think about it.”

You and Soobin’s fiancée come barreling towards the table, out of breath and a bit sweaty. Kai can’t help but chuckle at the way you finish your drink in one go, wiping away the beads of perspiration on your forehead. You turn to him with a tiny smile, your eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You ready to head home? I’m exhausted.” You ask sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Kai nods immediately and the two of you say your goodbyes.

The drive back home was once again silent except for the AC on full blast and your soft snores, having fallen asleep minutes after he started driving. He feels the subtle way his heart thumps just a beat faster, your face so peaceful it almost physically hurts to look at you.

A small pang of guilt hits him when he realizes he has to wake you from your slumber. You let out a little groan, your eyes fluttering open from the light shakes Kai had inflicted on you. With a pout, you get out of the car and trudge over to the stairs.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He asks suddenly, his tone a little shy. The alcohol in his system made him bolder but not enough to rid of the embarrassment from the question. You blink at him, registering what he just asked in your half-asleep mental state.

“Yes.” Is what you squeak out, pausing in your tracks just before you reach the first step.

He moves in front of you and bends down so you can hop on his back, hooking his arms underneath your knees. He doesn’t know why on earth he’d volunteer himself to do this when he was not strong enough to carry an entire person up two flights of stairs on his own. He’s pretty sure you can tell too, judging by the way you giggle every time he makes a grunt of exertion.

“Am I too heavy? Sorry, Hyuka.” You murmur, right in his ear.

“N-No, you’re fine—” He forces out, strained because he was not prepared for the amount of work it was taking. When he finally makes it to the front door of your apartment, he tries his best to take out his key and unlock the door. You pluck it from his grasp to save him from the struggle, pushing it open with your foot.

You hop off of his back, throwing yourself on the couch as he shuts the door behind him with a sigh. He shakes his head with a snort at the sight of you already getting comfortable on the cushions, like your room wasn’t ten feet down the hallway.

He walks past the sofa to go to his own, but he’s stopped by your hand reaching out and wrapping around his wrist. He glanced down at you, hoping you don’t feel the clamminess of his palms. You prop your head up on the armrest, smiling up at him lazily.

“Thank you,” you near whisper, rubbing his skin with your thumb. “You’ll always be my favorite.”

Kai gulps, the compliment provoking heat in his cheeks. He nods, a weak grin gracing his features. This would be the best time to confess to you. He could just lay himself bare right here right now and it would be such a perfect moment. So, he opens his mouth to start. But you start speaking before he can.

“I know you’ll always look at me even when no one else will.” You say. He furrows his brows and you explain what you mean. “Every time I think someone’s gonna make a move, they don’t. And you’re always there to pick up the pieces for me. I think seeing Soobin and his fiancée tonight, the way they stare at each other like no one else exists, had me remembering that.”

His eyes travel away from you, a painful feeling of remorse burning through his whole body. “That’s my fault.”

“What?”

“I’m the reason guys never pursued you or kept things going,” Kai admits, still not making eye contact with you. “I told them to stay away from you c-cause I didn’t want you to be with anyone else.”

Your hand releases his wrist and you sit upright, not knowing what to make of what he’d just said. Your best friend of twelve years was the reason you had been so lonely? How could he even do that to you?

“What are you saying right now, Kai?” You breathe through your nose, your lips pressing into a straight line.

He knows he could clear things up by clarifying why exactly he’d done such a mean thing. He could tell you his intentions were pure, and he’d done it all in the name of love. That he did it because you wouldn’t dare choose him out of all the boys who floundered at your feet. That he wanted you to pick him at the end of the day.

In spite of that being his most logical option, however, he doesn’t. He just stands there, avoiding your harsh gaze. If he felt small earlier at the restaurant, that was nothing compared to what he was feeling right now.

“Why are you so silent? Do you have nothing more to say? You expected to just drop that on me and things would be fine? Fucking look at me!” You get up from the couch, getting in his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Your vision is blurred with tears and your heart is shattered. Why wouldn’t he answer your questions? You swallow down your emotions. “Get out.”

He blinks at you. “W-What?”

“Get the fuck out, Huening Kai. Go stay at the hotel with the boys for all I care. I can’t do this right now.” Your voice raises, making him flinch.

He snaps out of whatever trance he was in and shuffles to the door, pausing before he walks out to glance back at you. His mouth opens, like he wants to say something else, but ultimately he can’t.

So he leaves.

#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt series #txt huening kai #txt huening kai x reader #txt huening kai fluff #txt huening kai angst #txt hyuka #huening kai x reader #huening kai fluff #huening kai angst #marriage.pact💍#yeonjunszn

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lastchancevillagegreen · 4 months

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Top Ten Favorite Graphic Novels of 2023:

I read 48 graphic novels this year. The majority of the spines do not show up here because my library is getting in less graphic novels than before, so I have to use the inter-library loan system to read them. At the year’s end I don’t feel I can very well request 20 books so I can photograph spines! So there are a considerable amount of Missing In Action spines at the end of the narrative.

Grass Keum Suk Gendry-Kim (2019)

The Waiting Keum Suk Gendry-Kim (2021)

The Naked Tree Keum Suk Gendry-Kim (2023)

The most impressive books read this year come from Keum Suk Gendry-Kim, a South Korean artist/ writer who details Korean history. Grass details the lives of “comfort women,” women who were kidnapped and forced into sexual slavery during World War II at the hands of both the Japanese and the Americans. These girls are as a young as six and no older than 17. A jaw dropping book, it details what these women were forced to endure for eight long years. The Waiting details the author’s mother’s story about being separated from her sister when Korea split into two countries. Whether or not you wanted to be in North Korea didn’t matter if you ended up there you weren't allowed to leave. The only way to return home is via a lottery program, an insane mishmash of government and television spectacle and the waiting list is literally years. In The Naked Tree we learn about how Korean artists painted the pictures of American soldier’s wives or girlfriends on ties and it relates the story of how the manager of that program falls in love with an already married artist. Taking place during the Korean War, it is another shocking look at a history Americans know little about. All of these novels are well researched, detailed and informative and they are always heartbreaking.

It’s Lonely At The Centre of The Earth Zoe Thorogood (2022)

Zoe Thorogood (The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott) is messed up. At first I thought, I couldn’t bear to read another graphic novel about a socially awkward, depressed artist who has suicidal ideations (but at least she doesn’t have an eating disorder). But as the book goes on it becomes funnier and funnier because Thorogood has a healthy attitude about her own unhealthy state of mind. And then, in the middle of the book she decides it sucks and starts it over. One of the most wildly inventive graphic novels (containing some of the best artwork) you can find, it is Thorogood’s take on the importance of art that blows my mind: doesn’t matter if it is good or if you are terrible at it, if it gets published or sits in your top dresser drawer, if it brings you happiness, then it is great art.

Ephemera: A Memoir Briana Loewinsohn (2023)

Living with a parent who suffers depression and mental illness must be a challenging life for anyone, but as a child imagine how difficult it must feel. In this sparsely worded, beautifully drawn graphic novel, we see how Briana deals with the loss of a parent: through her love of plants and tending to them. A beautiful dissertation about love, loneliness and how we engage in the world around us to help us cope.

I Think Our Son Is Gay 1 Okura (2019/ 2021 Translation by Leo McDonagh)

I Think Our Son Is Gay 2 Okura (2020/ 2021 Translation by Leo McDonagh)

I Think Our Son Is Gay 3 Okura (2020/ 2022 Translation by Leighann Harvey)

I Think Our Son Is Gay 4 Okura (2021/ 2022 Translation by Leighann Harvey)

Told from the perspective of the mother (and occasionally younger brother) of Hiroki, a high schooler, this quartet of graphic novels is absolutely one of the best looks at gay people without ever once pandering to morality, self-obsession or even plot. Smart, intelligent and quite funny, we watch as Hiroki navigates not letting on to anyone that he might be gay. Everyone already has it figured out (except Dad) and no one crowds him into making an announcement. Beautifully drawn and the definitive work about being gay at a young age. (And for the record, the author didn’t come out to his mother until after the first book was published.)

Talk To My Back Yamada Murasaki (2022)

In my Top Ten Best Novels, I mentioned being shocked by Annie Ernaux’s statement that motherhood is not fulfilling. This autobiography was published in Japan in 2009, the year the author died. She reveals some very harsh words about marriage and being a mother and how both sucked the humanity out of her. Startling and honest. I’m a huge fan of people who are out of step with the norms.

Mr Lightbulb Wojtek Wawszczyk (2022)

Told with an eye towards magical realism, this is the story of a young boy in Poland who faces some harrowing circumstances: a father who is injured at work and cannot leave his bed, a mother who toils endlessly and is all the unhappier with her son for it. The boy learns how to turn his artwork into something tangible and brighten the world with his radiance.

In Limbo Deb JJ Lee (2023)

Another auto-biographical novel about an artist who has psychological challenges. Deb was born in Korea but her family moved to the US when she was just a baby. She is an average student, a so-so violin player and everyone thinks she should be the best (no stereotyping here...). She feels so out of step with herself that she attempts suicide. What might be a run of the mill story (you cannot believe how many graphic novels exist about the authors who hate themselves and have self image issues) In Limbo is turned into a thing of beauty due to the artwork and the author's acceptance as to who she really is.

Mike’s Place: A True Story of Love, Blues, and Terror In Tel Aviv Jack Baxter, Joshua Faudem and Koren Shadmi (2015)

I normally stay away from graphic novels based on novels or movies (I would just as soon read the book or watch the movie they are based on) but there is always an exception to the rule. Mike’s Place is a bar in Tel Aviv that caters to everyone: Jews, Palestinians, Americans, atheists, Catholics, etc. Mike’s Place prides itself on the diversity. When a film crew catches wind of such an unusual place in Tel Aviv they want to make a documentary about it. And they are there when a suicide bomber comes inside, angry that such a harmonious place exists. Some people just can’t handle peace, love and understanding.

Roaming Jillian Tamaki and Mariko Tamaki (2023)

I love virtually everything that the Tamaki cousins do, separately or together and their new book is no exception. Spring Break 2009, three friends leave Canada to go to NYC for one week. Will the endless closeness tear them apart? Yes. Will it bring them back together? Yes. Honestly I believed in the space of the 450 pages that Dani, Zoey and Fiona were living breathing characters. Heck, I still believe it.

#10

Shubeik Lubeik Deena Mohamed

Imagine if wishes were real and the government could co-opt them and then sell them for a profit. That’s the basis of this graphic novel. While the government guarantees their wishes, they are expensive and of a limited resource (and guess what country buys the most wishes). So of course, there would be black market wishes and those are the most dangerous. A wish of 'I wish I could be more productive' might result in you sprouting five more arms. Or the result might be even more dangerous. The book gets lost in a lengthy text book discussion of depression that slows down the excitement but this is still an intoxicating and imaginative read. And by the way, the title is Arabic for what the genie says the instant he is cast out of the bottle: “Your wish is my command!”

Missing In Action spines are all seen below:

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physicalturian · 3 years

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[18+] Deranged Love - Hanma Shuji x F!Reader - Part 1

[Probably contains spoilers from the anime and the manga] [She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone is +18]

Words: 9403

Archive of our own

Warnings : Explicit! / Blood / Injuries / Guns / Bruises / Choking / Blood / Graphic depiction of violence / Killing / Murder / Crying / Trauma /

Summary : Wrong place, wrong guy. Wrong in so many fucking ways it only made the attraction more sick and twisted...Yet I wanted more of him and would end up doing anything for him, with him.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask, I'd rather be safe than sorry

- - -

Routine.

This would be how I would describe my way of life, a routine. I liked it like that, it was safe, comfortable and I was sure of what would happen. Far from me the idea of only doing the same things over and over again, I would sometimes go out with my friends or see a movie—doing things on a whim was not off the table. But I liked knowing what I was signing up for. Surprises, however, never were a thing I enjoyed—seeing my friends in my house when all I wanted was to relax after work was something dreadful and annoying to no end. I would pull through and be a good host, nonetheless, making sure everything was enjoyable, but I would be drained by the end of their stay.

Perhaps that need for reassurance, for a safety net, was the reason why I never truly took an artistic path or even considered any artistic career. It was too free, too unpredictable, too risky. Never could I have imagined myself doing such a thing; those who did were in my eyes the boldest and I admired them greatly for following their dream, but I was not bold, I preferred the solace of a job I knew would always bring me money. A simple 9 to 5 job was fulfilling enough for me; for some it was not, but I enjoyed it. It was something I could do and found relaxing to do, even when there was more rush. It just made sense to me.

There was not much thrill in this job. The people were nice enough; the clients were a bit bitter from time to time, depending on whether the job we had done was in their favor or not. Some of my colleagues would tell me crazy stories about some firms they had worked on or with and I would have a hard time believing it, but perhaps it was because different departments would deal with different types of clients. I had simple people: homeowners, tax payers, easy stuff. I liked it.

Now, even if I was keen on this routine that I had of going to my job, using the same transports, the same paths, headphones in to ignore the people around, I knew when following that same path would bring me trouble. I knew when to break that routine even just a little bit.

Tonight was one of those rare occasions. As I walked back home from work after having had to stay one more hour to help my colleague Darren fix his mistake—I made sure to tell him he owed me for helping him this late—I saw a group of men surrounding someone on the street. With one glance around, the entire street was empty except for those seven men and their victim. The usually crowded place was completely deserted and as I wondered how it could have happened, I noticed bikes at the end of the road blocking any possible traffic. It did not take a genius to know this was something far above me, there was no way I would interfere with that. Turning around, I made sure my steps were less heavy, less determined and started walking back. I did not have time to think I was going to get out of there safely when I heard, “Miss! Call the police-“. A thud sound, followed by a pained moan reached my ear.

When I dared look over my shoulder, I saw the man on his knees, blood pouring from his nose. I recognized him, he was a creepy older man that would sometimes stay longer on the train to look at younger women. Glancing at the other people around him, I kept my face as neutral as possible. Should I call the police? The outfits they wore all had the same sigil on them, the same pattern, and since they did not look like high schoolers I hardly believed those were school uniforms. Which led to the conclusion that they were the ones the news talked about a lot. The city was filled with gangs fighting over territory, not hesitating one bit to kill anyone who would cross them. I was sure of myself, assertive, yes… but I did not possess a savior complex. Seeing that man on the floor made me realize how wrong the system was, but I could not risk taking part in the situation and helping him. There were too many and clearly a lot scarier and stronger than I was. Looking away, I kept walking and heard them laugh, “That’s the right thing to do missy, he deserved it-“ “I said I was going to pay as soon as I got the money!” The victim interrupted; he was speaking very fast, but the fist smashing his jaw was faster to tell him to shut up. “It ain’t about that, you know it!”

Playing my music again, louder this time, I walked away and let them deal with everything, taking a different route than the one I would usually take. It’s alright to not have helped, you wouldn’t have made a difference… But he deserved it… I can still call the police… A turmoil inside my head started as I kept walking. After a few minutes, I grabbed my phone and dialed the police department’s number; they picked up quite fast, asking me what the emergency was. “There are gang members beating up a man in-“ “I’m sorry ma’am we can’t help with that, have a nice evening.” And just like that, the person on the other end of the phone hung up. Looking at my phone incredulously, I called again, all while taking a turn and walking by a warehouse, “Hello, you must have misunderstood me earlier—it is not a joke, there are gang members in the-“ This time, I was not interrupted by the person on the phone but by my arms being grabbed suddenly.

My heartbeat picked up, I suddenly felt sick and my head started spinning. When things like this happened, we’d always think it only happened to others, so when I realized it was happening to me, I did not feel well. Blood drained from my face, from my entire body. It all happened so fast: one moment I was walking past the warehouse, then suddenly my phone hit the ground and I joined it when I was thrown on it with force. My cheekbone took all the damage as someone pressed the side of my face onto the wet ground and made sure to put weight on my back to stop me from moving. I was shivering in fear already, but that fear only grew when my hair was pushed out of the way by a bloody hand, its knuckles painted red and brown from fresh and drying blood. The action did not feel one bit intimate, it was scary, intimidating. With the pressure on my back, I was pressed against the hard floor and could barely breathe, but in a situation like this I knew better than to talk.

I knew that. Yes.

So why did I talk? Why were my nerves acting up in moments like these?

“I am sure you got the wrong person—I’m just an accountant-“ A gun was now pressed against my cheek, I took it as a sign to shut up and did so. The man on my back twisted the gun a few times against my cheek, making me open my mouth from the weird movements against my teeth, like someone forcing a dog to open its jaws to get food out of it. “Aren’t we noisy? Tonight wasn’t the right night to feel heroic, girl.” The man asked as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I closed my eyes in discomfort, my breath hitching. Laughing sadistically, he continued talking, this time his tone lowered, “Rats shouldn’t snoop in businesses that aren’t theirs.” I felt the weight shift on my back, then heard him ask someone, “Keep beating him up, I’ll take care of her then we’ll continue having our fun,” His voice was stern but I still heard some tones of him being carefree, he was enjoying this. He then addressed someone else, “Sounds good to you?” The answer consisted of muffled cries, attempts at screams that were cut off by hits then a gun cocking. With a sigh, the man on me pulled the gun away from my face and tutted the man who was bound on his knees.

I felt the weight leave my back but did not dare move, I stayed right where I was. Steps on the humid ground were heard, getting away from me but clearly approaching the man who I assumed was being tortured. The gun fired soon after, startling me as I tensed up and closed my eyes a few seconds before opening them again. The crazy man that put me on the ground laughed loudly, “Come on, it’s just the thigh, you can still walk for now, yeah?” He had said. Turning my head to look at them, I saw the older man on his knees, hands tied behind his back and suit bloody. His tie was undone, and he had wounds all over his face and chest. “I said you can walk, yeah?” Recognizing the voice, I could put a face to my aggressor as I watched him remove his glove before grabbing the victim by his arm and making him stand up, only to force him to wobble a bit. “See! I am being nice! Talk and it’s all over, come on.” He cooed in something that could be seen as sweet if it wasn’t happening in a warehouse with violent people and a man bleeding on the ground.

“I told you! I don’t know anything I-“ The man with the long earring in his left ear did not think twice before punching the office worker in the face with enough force. I believe I heard his nose crack. I caught a glimpse of the tattoos adorning his hands but could not decipher, from how far I was, what was written on them. The crazy man laughed after the punch, “Wrong answer! Haha, you have one last chance, ok?” He said, leaning over so that his face was at the same level as the other man’s. From my place on the ground, I could only see the wicked smile on his face, and it made me feel uneasy. The tall violent man was clearly crazy, having such a man roaming the city did not seem safe at all and it scared me to think of what else was happening in the shadows. “Alright, alright, please Reaper-“ The man he called Reaper gripped his chin tight and chuckled, “Straight to point, I don’t have time to waste on vermin like you, you’re no fun.” He said as a matter of fact, as if they both believed this. His face had turned serious so quickly that I feared the moment I felt like I could escape, he would change his mind in half a second.

The bleeding man nodded quickly, tears streaming down his cheeks, “It’s Silas&Sons—That’s the name of the firm that discovered something was off-'' While I was left in shock at the mention of the firm I worked at, the Reaper grinned and brought the gun to the man’s forehead, “Wasn’t hard, was it?” the man tried to tell him not to shoot, adding that the violent one had promised he would stop. The latter shook his head, “I said it’ll all be over! Listen carefully next time,” He said the last part like a parent berating their child then winked and pressed the trigger, killing the man in less than a second as his body hit the ground, blood spattering behind him. The man with black and blond hair looked at the body on the ground and chuckled to himself, “There won’t be a next time, but you get the jest.” He huffed with a wave of his hand before handing back the gun he had been given earlier. Turning around, his eyes locked on mine. I widened my eyes in pure terror and turned my face to be in the position he had left me in; I was aware he had seen me, but I was hoping he would not mention it.

The other people that were in the room had gone silent and were probably all looking at me, the woman lying on the floor, shaking, dreading for her life. The odds of me coming out of this unscathed seemed to be decreasing the more I observed what was happening around me. A stinging pain reached my scalp making me hiss, as someone lifted my head from the ground to make me look at them. While turning my head their way, I saw two men sitting on a crate, one with two braids that were long enough to go down to his ribcage while the other had shorter purple hair and glasses. Boredom adorned both their features alongside blood stains on their outfits, and yet they were nonchalant about it. I saw a man leaning behind another crate but barely managed to catch a glimpse of his tattoo that the man called Reaper snapped his fingers in front of me. “Here, I’m your tormentor, not them, yeah?” He grinned. Meeting his gaze again, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut and kept my eyes on him.

“You’re being courageous, not even crying yet! You’re a fun one, gotta love it.” He said happily, his hand patting the cheek that had taken most of the damage when he slammed me on the ground. I flinched when I saw his hand approach my face then winced at the rough touch against the bruising skin. “What will I do with you little rat? Eavesdropping ain’t nice, tattling ain’t it either.” The latter was said in a more serious tone as his expression turned somber, any humor that dripped from his words a moment ago was completely gone and he was now looking at me with caution. “Get up, come on.” I did not have a choice, the grip in my hair did not slacken and I had to follow his movement to avoid most of the pain. My clothes were dirty and damp from the humid ground; I felt my legs shake as I got to my feet and hissed at the pain when he yanked my hair for me to follow him quicker.

Pushing me forward, he threw me against the crate where the two other men were sitting. Hitting my shoulder against the wooden item, I swore under my breath and was about to fall to my knees again when the man with the long braids wrapped his legs around my neck and somewhat choked me. Caught off guard, I gripped his shins tight and tried to break free, but his hold only tightened. I heard him mock me while he dug his heels deeper in my biceps from the position he was in, “Stop moving and it’ll stop hurting, fuck you’re stupid.” He sighed with disdain, bringing me closer towards him but it only pressed my neck against the wood. Gritting my teeth, I stopped trying to get him to let go and let my arms fall to my side, when I felt the choke weaken and took a large intake of breath while focusing my eyes anywhere but on the man in front of me.

The manic laughter I had now heard many times in those few minutes I was on the floor reached my ears again, “I can see you wanna live, what are you willing to do to stay alive?” He asked in a light tone. It was a real question, but I did not want to do anything. I wanted to punch them and make a run for it, but they had guns and strength, none of which I could match in any way. I kept my mouth shut again.

The Reaper chuckled again, “I don’t know if you keeping your pretty mouth shut is a curse or a blessing-“ he stopped himself and slapped my now undamaged cheek with as much force as he could, making me yelp at the pain. I kept my face turned the direction his hand had turned it, but he gripped my chin forcefully and made me look at him. His expression had turned almost sour as he stared right into my eyes, “Fucking answer the question, what are you willing to do?” he spat, his face only breaths away from mine. Keeping a frown on, I uttered, “I wasn’t calling on you, there were people blocking another road-“ His mouth contorted into a smile once again as he pushed my face against the crate before letting go as he threw his hands in the air, and turned around on himself once, “She speaks! God it’s so entertaining to see you’re—Still. Not. Crying.” He gritted through his teeth the last three words before leaning over once again, his face very close to mine just like before.

“You’re telling me it’s a coincidence then?” He asked in a playful tone, clearly mocking me.

Fuck I wanted to make a run for it and get away from here. My heart was trying to beat out of my chest the longer I spent time here, the only thought running through my mind was: I am going to die here. How else would I end up? He had killed a man that had told him what he wanted to know, so no matter what I said he would kill me, right? Stammering a bit, I nodded the best I could with legs still around my neck, “Yes, I hadn’t seen you were here, I-“

“You’re funny! I’ll give you that! God you’re-“ He pulled back and made a rapid movement of his arms approaching me, as if putting me on display, “You’re fun! Ran, let her go.” The first part was said in excitement, the latter in the utmost seriousness. The moment he had spoken those words, the man let go of my neck and I was about to stumble when the Reaper grabbed me by the shoulders. He was tall, strangely tall, way above average, and it only added to all the traits that already made him scary. My whole body tensed, I thought this was it. He glared at me for a few moments before speaking to one of his friends, his gaze never leaving mine, “What do we know?”

An unknown voice reached my ear, it was close, so it must have been the other man on the crate, “Seems like a civilian, said she was an accountant. She also seemed surprised when the vermin said Silas&Son.” That perked the Reaper’s interest.

“Oh, so the little girl knows things. Have they sent you?” He asked, forcing me to look up by gripping my chin once more. He did not care the amount of strength he used, he couldn’t care less if I was uncomfortable, to him I was just a puppet that he could throw around and play with. Clearly he was right since I moved along and did not fight back. If I did, I would die, I was sure of it. “I was walking home from work—I saw my usual path was blocked and people were ganging up against a man so I-“ “You ran? The rat isn’t one for conflict, eh?” He patted my head and smiled almost reassuringly before letting go of me, making sure I fell on the floor. “Then? Make this quick, this ain’t the time for a bedtime story.”

“I called the police so that they could check—they said it was none of their business so I tried again and you-“ Fuck I was stuttering, the stress was too much and once I had fallen on my back, he was a lot more intimidating. He could just pull out his gun and shoot me, I could not get up with how I was shaking.

“You tried to do the right thing, right?” He asked, his back now turned to me. I could not gauge his emotion, so I replied sincerely, “Yes, it was all that I could do-“

Suddenly he turned around and pointed a gun at me, grinning, “Wrong! You could have helped the poor, poor man on the street, yeah? But you didn’t, why?” I did not reply right away, so he waved the gun around before crouching right in front of me and taking a good look at me. “They were too many-“ “That never stops a hero, does it? It’s all about charisma, determination, letting your body act faster than your brain, no?” He asked rhetorically, but while I waited for him to continue he sighed and looked down, his gun dropping lower as his arm fell limp. He started mumbling to himself a moment, using the gun to scratch his hair. Perhaps it was not the most adequate time to do so, but I looked at his outfit and saw he was wearing suit pants and a white business shirt. Quite the outfit for a murderer, but he had made sure to pull his sleeves up to not stain it. He was right in doing so since all the blood from earlier was on his black gloves and his forearms.

“Tell me, rat,” He slowly looked up and gave me a wicked smile, “Are you a hero?” He brought the gun to my forehead and all I did was close my eyes in fear. A sob escaped my lips as I tried to back away, but I was only met with the wooden crate, accidentally bumping my head against the shoes of one of the men sitting on it. “Do you believe there is good in this world? That it deserves to be saved? Hm? Would you die for this pathetic excuse of a world?” He pressed the gun even more against my skin. I heard the click as he disengaged the safety and tried to close my eyes even more than how I had already shut them, but found it impossible. My entire body was shaking, there was no helping the sobs escaping my mouth even by covering it.

I felt a gentle hand push my hand away and opened my eyes in confusion, only to see that the man who was holding a gun against me was grinning, “Answer the question.” He turned the gun horizontally and rested his arm on his knee as he placed his head on his free hand, completely relaxed. Getting lost in thoughts, I stared emptily at him while he started counting down, “Three…” Am I a hero? How would one describe a Hero? None of the mythological heroes could define me, none of those famous franchises either. “Two, think faster.” What answer did he want? Should I give him what he wants, or should I just be honest? “One-“

“I’m not a hero, I didn’t call right away because he deserved it, I-“ Taking a deep breath, I tried to take a hold of myself and calm down the best I could. “He harassed people, no one ever did anything about it-“

“See! Wasn’t hard, was it? Good girl,” He patted my head before moving the gun under my chin and raising it with the end of the gun, his finger never leaving the trigger, “You’re also a bad person then, you’re like us, right? Some people do deserve to die!”

Shuddering, I took a shaky breath and inhaled, “I’m nothing like you-“ “If he died it’s because ye didn’t act quick enough, don’t you agree?” He inquired with a pleading look, the mockery never leaving his tone. “I don’t, no.” My words were followed by the gun leaving my person as the man stood up quickly and barked out a laugh before asking his friends if they had heard that, they only grumbled in reply. He tucked the gun in the back of his pants and I quickly let my head down in fear I had triggered him somehow, frightened it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I like you, accountant woman. I just wanna see one thing to know what I should do with you—well two, but I’ll start slow.” Bringing his arm behind his back, I tensed again but then felt the gun hit my ankle as he threw it at me.

“Shoot me,” He ordered as he crouched in front of me, his arms crossed over his knees while grinning broadly. “I killed a guy, right? I am bad, killing me should make you a hero.” His little speech was stupid, it only started a vicious cycle of death with no end. Killing a killer that killed one person? It’d make me a killer that killed one person, and so on. But he brought his hand to mine and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the gun before pressing it against his forehead. “Here, you can’t miss from this close, show me you got guts! Come on, do it.” That grin turned into something scary, manic, he was getting off on the thrill. But my hands were shaking, I had never held a gun before, never intended to, but tonight was nothing if not exceptional. When I tried to put my arm down, he grabbed my elbow and kept it up, “It’s you or me, come on, make this fun for both of us-“ “I’m not shooting you in the head! You’re insane-“

Hearing my words well, he barked a laugh then guided the gun to his heart, one of the men behind me sighed and told him to hurry up, but the Reaper only shushed him. “Here, then? Sounds better?” Nothing was right in his head; I couldn’t understand what he was doing. No matter how hard I tried, I did not know the point he was making, but taking all this time to think about it made me lose the position of power he had given me. Forcing my hand to let go of the gun, he took it and, at the speed of light, put it in my mouth, making a sob escape it as he did so. “That’s a missed opportunity, too bad.” He shrugged then as I saw him press the trigger. I closed my eyes, my hands gripping my thighs so tight, it must have left some marks under the fabric of my pants.

The click of the trigger echoed, and I felt myself jump on the spot at how loud the bang was—so this is it? That thought crossed my mind rapidly, but was shoved aside by the loud ringing in my ears. I then heard footsteps echoing around the warehouse. The gun was no longer in my mouth, there were no bullets, it was a blank; I felt my stomach churn and opened my eyes in panic before pushing my tormentor away. I was surprised when he let me do so, but it was better for him. Slamming my hands down, I was on the floor as I emptied my stomach on the concrete. Chuckles reached my ears along with the whispers of a few words, “Can’t even stomach a bit of gun play.” “Should have killed her, blood stench leaves easier than vomit.” The latter comment made one of them laugh.

When I was done, I thought for a second that death was quick, most of the time. And when it wasn’t, you expected it, you weren’t filled with stress. Hence why no one ever spoke of post-mortem vomit. It made me laugh only for a second until I was pushed back on my ass when the man with the earring pressed his foot against my chest, making me wince. “Your name, what is it?” he asked seriously.

Feeling some sort of confidence build up, I looked up at him and leaned over, using the hem of his pants to wipe my mouth, but did not answer. The seriousness on his face turned into the look of someone who had been challenged; he snapped his fingers, then I heard someone say my name, my birthdate and my birthplace. Looking at the person who kept reading out loud, I saw the man with a tiger tattoo on his neck approach before tossing my wallet at me. I did not know when they had found the time to pickpocket me, but they managed to. My cheeks were burning up from the sickness, the stress and the embarrassment this entire situation brought but I still tried to keep my head high, for what it was worth. Bringing my hands to my face, I only now felt the tears that had rolled down my cheeks.

“Okay little tattletale, I think I’ll let you go for now-“ “Are you not going to kill me? Isn’t this what you do?” I asked in a weak voice, not even attempting to get up after all the time you had been mishandled. Both the man with the earring and the tattooed one were standing in front of me. The former reached out for my hand to help me get up, I did not take it, so he sighed loudly and bent over to grab my bicep and forcefully get me up. “We only kill snitches and annoying fucks, are you one of those?” I was about to tell him no when he leaned over suddenly and pressed his index against my lips to shut me up. Startled, I tried to step back but he held the back of my head with his free hand and beamed, “No, you’re not. You’re gonna be useful, you’re just the right amount of malleable,” The finger that had left my mouth moved to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I shivered in disgust, “I can see it in your eyes that you’ll be a fun one to work with.”

I tried to pull away from him, but his hand gripped my hair tight and kept me in place, stopping me from leaning back when he approached closer, “Since you’re not a hero, we’ll make you a villain then—I mean, it’s not going to be hard considering your stance on killing.” He grimaced at that before turning it into a full laugh and letting go of me.

“Rindou, take her back to her place-“ “I’m not doing that, I got plans with Ran. Send the tiger boy, we’re done for tonight.” The one with purple hair and glasses said as he hopped off the crate, followed by the other man on it. It made the Reaper’s face turn sour as he gripped the one who had just spoken and tightened his hold on his shoulder, “I don’t do escorting, that’s your job.” He gritted through his teeth.

Seeing the tension, I put my wallet back in my bag and cleared my throat, “I’ll—I can walk home on my own, by now they must be gone-“ All of them looked at me with a threatening gaze, I felt like a deer caught in headlights. The man with the braids started walking off, Ran was his name I believe, along with the man with the tattoo on the neck, while the two others stayed right there and glared at me. When I took a step back, taking their silence for permission, the Reaper wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me close to him, “Right, I’ll do it tonight. Just because she’s a fun one-“ “I can walk home alone, it’s no problem,” I tried to push him away, my hands were shaky and had a few scraps. Without the constant manhandling, not that I missed it, I could feel the dampness of my clothes and how cold it was getting.

Looking down at me without any expression on his face, the Reaper turned us around and waved everyone goodbye, his arm never leaving my shoulders. “We both know that’s not true, if we let you walk home alone you might get beaten up by—how did you put it? ‘Gang members’, yeah, that was what you said on the phone.” He hummed, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he guided us outside. I felt uneasy in his hold, I felt like he was walking me towards my execution. I did not want to lead him to my house, but what choice did I have? He would find it sooner or later; at least that’s what he said, but I did not know how much truth there was to it. In my eyes, it was but a small group of violent men that had killed someone.

“In the end you did get beaten up by a gang member, but it could’ve been worse.” He said lightheartedly as he stopped in front of a car. When I paused my steps and still did not look at him, simply waiting for his next move, I felt him grab my chin and turn my head towards him. My breath hitched in fear as I met his golden eyes. He seemed a bit bored now, but I couldn't care less how he felt, I wanted to bolt away from his touch. “You should disinfect that, and you’ll definitely bruise, but you probably have makeup or something to hide that.” He shrugged.

When he leaned over again, I brought my hands in front of me and closed my eyes to stop him from touching me, but I only heard him huffing a laugh next to my ear as he opened the door of the passenger seat. “Get in, I’ll drop you off.” Looking up at him, I blinked a few times then glanced at the inside of the car. I don’t know what I was expecting, something dirty, bloody, disgusting perhaps. But instead, it was perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt in sight. It looked like an expensive car, but perhaps it was just very clean, I did not know. Still unsure, I hesitantly got inside and was about to close the door but felt a certain strength holding it back. The man was leaning on the door and bent over to peek his head inside the car, thinking he needed something. I pressed myself more against the seat to let him grab what he wanted, but his hand reached for the belt and fastened it for me.

“Wouldn’t want you to escape—ah, I mean, safety first.” He said mockingly before winking and slamming the door shut. My hands found their way to the belt and held it tight as I watched him walk around the car. His steps were too big for me to make a run for it, he would catch up on me in no time, I was stuck with him. As he entered the vehicle and fastened his own seatbelt, he pointed at the glove box and handed me his gloves, “Put them back and hand me a wipe, tattletale.”

His craziness was a lot more toned down, for a second I wondered how many faces this man had. The one I was seeing right now was intimidating from how put together he seemed, the other one was scary from how unexpected his actions were. “Why aren’t you killing me?” I asked without looking at him, focused on pushing the gun out of the way inside the glove box and grabbing the little pack of wipes. Giving it to him, his brow was quirked, “Because you’re a good girl,” He grinned, wiping his hands as he continued, “No one would ever suspect you’re working with the likes of a gang. You’re gonna be useful and that’s all that matters, you should be thankful I didn’t kill you. I hate people who eavesdrop.” He said, as he shoved the wipe in the door compartment.

“I didn’t eavesdrop.” I muttered, looking outside the window when he started the car. The laugh that erupted out of nowhere scared me, making me tense again, I dared to look his way and saw his manic smile again. “So, you’re an accountant, pretty boring. You should be thrilled I chose you.” He said in a mix of pride and humor before increasing the volume of the music then drumming his fingers on the wheel. Thinking about his words some more, I glanced his way and lowered the volume, catching his attention as he looked me dead in the eyes. “What if I don’t want to work with you?” I asked, measuring my tone to not piss him off, it did not take a genius to understand this man was unstable and that I needed to tread lightly around him.

Even with as much care as I put in my voice, his reaction was sudden when he turned the wheel and stopped the car on the side of the road. Passing cars honked in annoyance but the man did not care one bit while I had slammed my hand on the dashboard to stop my head from hitting it. Insulting him under my breath, I looked up and saw he had placed his arms on the wheel, his left cheek resting on his forearm. “Then leave. Get out right now, nothing’s stopping you.”

“What’s stopping me is that you’ll kill me, or you’ll run me over, multiple times,” I could see the smile on his face was spreading, but he did not move. The condescendence in his lack of reaction, of action, annoyed me but at the same time frightened me, was he going to slam my head against the window? Against the dashboard? I did not know, but I continued, stammering this time from how nervous I was becoming, “My life is on the fucking line, that’s what’s holding me back.” I spat. My eyes had never left his, even as his smile turned into a grin and his slender fingers gripped the wheel tighter.

When he did not look away, I did. At the same time, I turned on the seat and fully looked ahead instead of facing him. A silence set for a moment then I heard the car start and the man sighed, content, “You’re smart to stay, you’re only alive because I can use you. If you had left, I’d have shot you and left you on the side of the road to die.” He said in a light tone. The words he had spoken had the same effect of a bullet; my guts took a hit without being truly hit. I did not have a choice at all, I was stuck working for a man I did not know without even knowing what I had to do.

His hand rose and I closed my eyes, flinching slightly, “Type in your address, tattletale.” With the little confidence that remained, I lifted my shaky hand and typed it in while telling him that I had a name. Then added, “You should use it. Maybe there is a name I can call you by?” I was not asking for his ID, nor anything specific, if he had a codename in his stupid gang or something like that I would go with it, but calling him Reaper in my head sounded idiotic. “Sorry doll, I think nark or snitch suits you a lot more.” He hummed a moment, throwing me a glance from the corner of his eyes as his hands moved on the wheel absent-mindedly. Huffing in annoyance, I placed my elbow against the window and rested my chin against my fist, thinking he was done. After all, why should I care what he called me? I should simply call him an asshole if he was so keen on calling me a snitch. Or perhaps I should live up to the title and do exactly that, tell the police.

A hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me out of my daydream with my head bumped against the window. Wincing in pain, I heard the man laugh loudly while being focused on the road, “That’s deserved for not paying attention.” He said through laughter. “Pay attention to what? The road? I’m not the one driving-“ “To me, you should keep your guard up, snitch. Who knows what I could do.” He said with a deadpan expression. Without looking at me, he brought his hand to tuck my hair out of the way, then glanced at me and smirked. His touch was light, almost gentle. It allowed me to get a proper look at his tattoo, but I could not focus on it at all, I only tensed up before feeling him grip my throat and bring me closer to him. I made a choking sound and complied to avoid as much pain as possible, “You can call me Hanma, as long as you don’t scream it from every fucking rooftop.”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. This night was not going as planned at all and every time I found any respite, it would be ruined, and the man would turn violent again. I could not let my guard down, I knew it but when he would just stay put, I could not help myself but think he was done. Clearly he wasn’t. His hold lessened a bit, so I took the opportunity to claw his hand away and pull myself back, my own hand around my throat in protection. “They called you the Reaper.” I croaked, wanting him to talk more so that I wouldn’t have to.

“They did, yeah.” He shrugged.

That was it. He did not add anything else. The matter was closed. When I asked him why they did that, he pulled the car on the side of the road again, startling me in the process. With how on edge I was, I did not realize where we were and thought he would be mad again, but instead he looked over my shoulder and nodded, “That’s you, get out.” He told me as his left arm rested on the wheel while the right one was on the back of the seat, casually leaning on it while looking at me. Looking behind me, I saw my house and felt some hope at finally being able to get home and yet… I did not leave right away and instead prodded, “The news talks about your gang, how many people did you kill?” His eyes traveled from my head to my hands then up to my head again, the arrogance never leaving his face as he leaned back against the car door and waved a hand dismissively, “Take a guess, I think it should be fun.”

I was about to give him a number when he leaned forward quickly, his face right in front of mine as he whispered, “Don’t forget those in comas or those at the hospital, they might not be dead, but they might as well be,” He chuckled happily then approached even closer, his lips right next to my ear, “They’re only alive because I said they could be, like you are. One wrong move and,” leaning back quickly, he clapped his hands, “Bang, dead.” He said dead meaning those in the hospital, but I fully understood he was threatening me, I was not an idiot.

Taking this as my cue to go, I unbuckled my seatbelt and when I was about to open the door, I heard the mechanism of the car locking it. Turning around to look at Hanma, I wordlessly asked if he needed anything else. His hand reached out towards me, “Your phone.”

“I didn’t record this or anything, I was not on a call with the police either, I-“ snatching it from my hand while I was rambling, Hanma tried to unlock it but instead was met with a locked screen. Hesitantly, I took it from his hand, mine being a lot shakier than his seeing how steady his were and unlocked it before giving it back to him. A minute passed and he handed the phone back to me, “We’ll be in contact. Things are gonna change for you, doll. Hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”

He was an unusual character, he was confusing, violent, and surely insane. All of those things added up in my mind, making me accidentally let it slip, “How can one be ready with you? Crazy man…” I said it all under my breath and huffed the last part as I pushed the door open. I let out a sigh when the door opened easily, part of me even thanked the man for not keeping me in any longer but I was still on my toes, certain he would say something else as I left the car, but he did not.

Grabbing my bag, I shuffled away from the car that still hadn’t moved and kept glancing over my shoulders until I reached the door where I struggled to put the key in the keyhole. At each failed attempt my frustration grew, the swears flooded out of my mouth easily and soon it turned into a stupid crying of frustration. “Fuck this, fucking shit-“ when the key finally fit, I hurried inside and locked the door behind me again but this time with the sliding lock, knowing full well I would struggle again too much to lock my door with the key seeing how tensed I still was.

The darkness of my home was what welcomed me. It was awful, it was cold and above everything it felt oppressive—my face was heating up, I was suffocating, my clothes were burning my skin, but I was also shaking. Fanning my face, I made my way to the bathroom with heavy steps, my breath was quickening, was it breathing or heaving? I needed to calm down, I needed to ground myself but I did not know how, this never happened but I felt like I was dying. I could not breathe, my lungs hurt at each intake of breath. “Fuck, fuck, shit, calm down“ I panted while taking off my clothes, I needed to take everything off, I wanted to burn them, it was filthy, disgusting and smelled wretched.

As I took off my top, I caught a whiff of the stench of the warehouse and let out a sob but did not let it stop me even if I could not breathe. I removed the rest of my clothes and knelt by the bath, leaning over to turn the shower on but did not wait for it to be warm to step inside and let it pour all over my dirtied body. The coldness made me take a deep breath that seemed to have helped with the panic attack I was having, but it did not help the crying, so I let it all out while I was washing up. What have I gotten myself into? What happens next? What am I supposed to do now? Is he going to ask me to kill someone? Am I going to have to use a gun? I didn’t want to do any of those, I only walked by something I had nothing to do with and—letting out a scream of frustration, I sat down in the bath and let the water rain on me. I ran my hands through my wet hair and placed my elbows on my knees, grunting again, “I don’t do gangs… I do numbers, I don’t have time to murder people…” I mumbled.

Letting my own words sink in, I let out a chuckle at first and focused my gaze on the wall in front of me then laughed again, shortly. I don’t have time to murder people, yeah… “Because if you had time you would?” I asked myself jokingly as I stood up, laughing again. Shaking my head, I shut the shower off and got out, almost slipping on the water that had splattered around the bath. I hadn’t taken time to put a towel on the floor or prepare anything, fortunately I managed to balance myself and took one from the closet. Once I was dry, I wrapped my robe around my form and stopped in front of the mirror, taking a proper look at the damage I had taken.

The scratch on my cheekbone was bruised, there was another bruise on my neck that I could probably hide with a turtleneck, the season allowed it, and if not with a turtleneck then a scarf would do the trick. Disrobing myself just to take a look at the rest of it, I had some bruises on my arms where I was grabbed to be moved roughly, without counting the pain on my ass but no one would see that. Passing my tongue over my teeth, I was glad as I still had all of them, but my jaw hurt, “Did I bite the inside of my cheek? At what moment could-“ A flashback of when the man slapped me with full force appeared in my mind, fueling me with a bad feeling of uneasiness as I put back my robe. “Bastard…” I huffed before opening the door of my bathroom and stepping inside the dark room again. Talking to myself, I continued, “Nothing’s stopping me from telling the police, who does he think he is? I could very well call them, yeah…” I paused in my steps and scoffed dryly, “Not that they’d listen.”

The news was always talking about the gangs in the city, telling us that the police were working on stopping them, but no one knew the people that were supposed to defend and help were a bunch of sellouts, bribed out idiots. The system we had put our trust in had decided to fuck us over and to leave us to ourselves, it was because of them that I was in this situation. It’s not like it had been hard to stumble upon one of their gang meetings. They might claim discretion, but if anyone could find them, it was anything but. “Who am I kidding? I am fucked,” I barked a laugh and turned on the light, “Guess I am a gang member-“ I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the man my thoughts were plagued with, sitting on my couch, his legs crossed with one ankle over a knee. “Not exactly, you still need to prove yourself. But I love the enthusiasm!” He said while placing an arm on the back of the couch and looking at me with a satisfied smile, not even fully facing me, only to look right ahead once he was done talking.

Usually, one would say don’t turn your back on your enemy, but he was the predator here, he had nothing to fear, I was the one shaking in my metaphorical boots. Deciding to not be useless, I was about to shuffle to the kitchen discretely when I saw him beckon me closer by bending his index finger. Thinking I could play it off as not having seen it, I took one step towards the kitchen when I heard him click his tongue over his teeth, “I said, come here.” Stopping dead in my tracks, I did not speak, and silently opened my bag to pull out my phone and start recording. His hand gripped the back of the couch and I heard him chuckle mockingly, “Ran said you were stupid, but we both know you’re not, now come.” Putting the phone properly on the furniture, I followed his order and walked up to him to stand right in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest to close my bathrobe up to my neck.

“How the fuck did you get in?” I spat. He was not driving, which meant he could not throw me out of a speeding car. He was not surrounded by other maniacs either, and if he had a gun and decided to shoot me, I would have proof of it. There was a semblance of safety, even amidst the fact that the man had broken in without caring. It led me to have some confidence.

The man grinned and leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees. His demeanor was one of a man in control, he knew he could do anything to me because I would bend, he said it himself, I was malleable. But not for lack of will, simply by fear. And if he kept bending me this much, I would not last long, I would break. As long as I feared him, he had the upper hand… but I was not feeling fearless yet. With a low chuckle, he simply said, “Broke in with pliers,” then showed me the pair of pliers lying on the couch. I glanced at my door and saw the chain of my lock was broken as he had said, but that loss of attention directed to him annoyed him. Snapping his fingers, he brought my attention back to him, “Here, you should make a double of your key-“ “I’m not doing that. First, you’ll pay me back for breaking my lock, then if you want to meet up for whatever you got planned for me, you pick a spot but not-“

My breath hitched when Hanma rapidly stood up, his form towering mine as he looked down at me with his hair falling randomly on his forehead. “We got a lotta confidence suddenly, don’t we? Go ahead, finish your sentence, I’m listening.” He cooed in a condescending tone, his face approaching mine as he hovered slightly over me. Looking up at him, I looked down to his chest feeling my confidence wane slightly. When I tried to step back, not liking how close he was to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Come on partner, let it all out, you seem to have a lot on your mind. Keeping it all bottled up ain’t gonna end up well. We should get along if we’re gonna work together, yeah?” He said in a fake listening attitude, we both knew he didn’t care but I was riled up and clenched my fists.

“I don’t want you in my house, you’re a piece of shit. I don’t want to get along, I want you to fuck off—Get out.” I managed to say everything without stuttering, but his grip tightened on my shoulder, making me tense up even if it was not painfully tight. Simply knowing that nothing was holding him back, not his mind, nor his ethics, nothing. His mood was the turning point of his actions, which means one change of emotion could make him go feral and hit me, it scared me. Hissing mockingly, he tilted my chin up to make me look at him, a smirk adorning his face, “Make me leave then, do something about it.” Grabbing both my shoulders, he pushed me back slightly then spread his arms wide, a huge smile on his face, “Go ahead, I won’t do anything—it’s free hits,” He taunted. When I did not move, he pointed at his face and licked his lips like an animal looking at its next meal.

“Do it, show me your guts, little rat! I hit you right? I put a gun to your head, that must be so annoying, right?” Biting the inside of my cheek, I could feel my frustration building up inside me again. He had done all those things, and no regret was written on his face, none. He had killed a man, broken inside my house, manhandled me and hit me. He had mocked me, humiliated me, mistreated me and while it all happened in a short time span, I already felt strongly about him. Reminding myself all that, I hadn’t realized the hit that flew from my person until it landed on his jaw, my fist feeling like it had hit a wall. His face turned to the side by the end of the action.

Using the heel of his hand to wipe the blood that dripped from his mouth, he looked at me with hooded eyes and grinned, his teeth colored red, “That’s hot, but ye shouldn’t have done that.”

[Part 2]

#tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #fanfiction #writing #writers #physicalturian AO3 #physicalturian #deranged love #archive of our own #tokyo revengers hanma #tokyo revengers x reader

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joyrose-fandomer · 3 years

Text

Music club AU Chap2 (Sanders sides Human AU)

TL;DR: What if you just wanted to play music in peace but the autor sayed “chaos twins :)”

POV: Virgil

Relationship: Creativitwins, Prinxiety, Logicality parent to Virgil, (later in the story) Dukceit.

TW: Play fighting

<<Previous Next>>

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God loves to mess with little old Virgil, do they?

The teenager just wanted to play music and have a good time, for ONCE!

But nooo, couldn't have that did he?

Virgil just opened the door to the classroom where the music club took place, standing at the threshold, staring at not one but both of yesterday's idiots staring back at him from their seat in the classroom.

He closed back the door. A laugh exploded inside the room followed by rushed footsteps.

Virgil practically ran through the corridor and was at the other side of it when someone flew the door of the classroom open and yelled.

"WAIT, COME BACK!"

It was a good thing that it was lunchtime and everyone was out, eating because Virgil would not have been able to handle the embarrassment.

The guy took the chance to run through the corridor while Virgil was still stunned.

He reached him breathless.

"Wait... don't go.... just...one second" He took a few deep breaths "Alright... Let's start again."

The tall boy corrected his posture and fashed a 100-watt smile.

"Hi. I'm Roman. And you are?"

Virgil looks at the hand his schoolmate was extending to him like it was going to electrocute him. Wich he was seriously considering could happend.

The unconvinced emo took a long look up and down the dramatic boy who was growing more uncomfortable and nervous every second.

He was a head taller than Virgil, His hair where a stylish mess, he was wearing an outfit stolen straight up from a model magazine and not to be gay but he was so jacked that Virgil could see his pecks from under his shirt.

"Sooo..." The much to jacked teen continued when he saw that Virgil was not going to answer "Should I be worried by this elevator look or..." He left the end of the sentence hanging in the hope that Virgil would tell him something, anything.

But he simply rose an eyebrow.

Roman finally let his arm fall to his side, starting to be tired of holding it up for so long.

"Look. I got it. Using you for a challenge was not cool. I'm dumb and my brother is even dumber.

But still, give me chance. I really want to get to know you. So, how about we get back to the classroom before the teacher arrives and you can decide my fate after?

Please?"

His dramatic schoolmate had quickly shot the sentences one after the other, making big movements to accentuate his point.

Alright, Virgil was starting to get second-hand anxiety from this interaction, let's just go back to the classroom and get it over with.

He sighed and reluctantly got past the nervous mess in front of him to make his way back down the corridor, causing a disbelieving grin to appear on the face of the other boy who started trotting behind him.

If only he knew that he just threw out the window his only chance at peace for that smile.

Once in the classroom, Virgil was immediately greeted by a whistle coming from the other member of the dumb duo who was now sprawled over two chairs and tables. His hair was partially white and his outfit looked like he stoled Roman's close and made them voluntarily look as terrible as possible.

Virgil looked back at Roman who was joining his own hands together over his mouth, silently praying to Virgil to not back out.

Puppy eyes had always been the emo's weakness, his dad used them constantly against him, so when a pretty face was giving him those hopeful eyes he was unable to refuse.

He reluctantly walked into the classroom only to realize that the only seat left was the one right in front of the brothers that none took due to being the closest to the teacher.

Great.

"Wow, Ro! I can't believe you managed to get him to stay, that's a new record!"

Roman's brother claimed, throwing his arms for emphasizes and almost hitting Virgil in the process.

"Not thank's to you. Now scout over I wants my sit."

"Make me"

The strange twin challenged with a smirk. A challenge that was apparently accepted immediately judging by the wicked smile appearing on the face of the other twin.

"Gladly"

The dramatic boy took the ankles of the chaotic one and all but dragged him to the floor, getting a laugh out of his brother. Everyone was looking at them like they were insane and Virgil couldn't agree more.

Roman sunk in his sit, behind Virgil, completely unbothered by the chorus of confused laughter from the other students.

This was the scene playing when the teacher entered the classroom. Everyone when as silent as possible, a few of them had to hold their laughter with their hands. The embodiment of chaos looked up from his spot on the ground with an innocent smile.

The teacher took silently a sip of his coffee and walked past the teenager to reach the front of the room before sitting on his desk.

"Sup, everyone. Glad to see a lot of familiar faces. For those who don't know me, the name's Remy. I'm a music teacher and I'll babysit you all an hour every week for this club. You're welcome."

At the word 'babysit' he looked through his sunglasses at the trouble maker who was sitting back on his chair.

It took barely a look to know which student already knew the men, smiling and snickering like it was their wired uncle or big brother. And the ones who discovered the strange character, blinking and staring in confusion.

Two girls started whispering to each other a few rows behind, causing the teacher to snap his fingers to get their attention.

"Sorry, Sir! We were just wondering if Remy was your last name"

One of the girls quickly apologized.

"Don't sir me and no, that's my first name. My name is Dorme. Any other question?"

After a silence, he continued.

"Good. So I'm going to take the same call from last year and cross out everyone we lost during the summer break. Toby!"

Someone with orange hair and a skeleton hoody rose their hand.

"Hi Toby, last year right? Think you can go to the club and study at the same time?"

"No problem, Remy"

Remy nodded and looked back at his list.

"Amely!"

A tall girl with a flowery dress rose her hand from the back of the class.

"Hey girl, how's the transition going? Want to stay with the altos or do you want to try and go soprano?"

"It's going great but I'd like to stay alto if possible"

"Of course. Next, Mike!"

There was no answer so he crossed them out. It continued like that for a few more minutes before he put the list down and took an empty paper.

"Ok, now time to cheek the newbies. Just say your name, pronoun, and any instrument you can play. We start from the front and make our way back from left to right."

Meaning Virgil was first. Too much pressure.

He looked up at the teacher who was waiting for him to speak. Everyone was looking at him it was awful. He went to say his name but his voice refused to cooperate.

The teacher handed him the empty sheet where the anxious boy wrote 'Virgil Adams, he/him, base'

"Quick question, do you think you'll be able to sing or-" Mr. Dorme posed mid-sentence when he looked at the paper. "Never mind. Steve, good news, we have a base. You can play the guitar now!"

Steve, a boy with a plaid shirt and dark curly hair, made a 'woohoo!' of victory.

Remy looked back at Virgil.

"Don't worry about singing if you don't feel like it. Want to start tuning the base?"

The high schooler noded quickly and practically ran to the back of the classroom where Nat, one of the older students showed him where the material was.

The teacher called for the next student to introduce themself.

There was a noise of a chair being pushed back followed by an obnoxious voice.

"Greetings! I'm Roman Poquelin, he/him, and I can play any string and wind instrument except the base, the violoncello, and, god forbid, the kazoo."

"The kazoo is great! You don't know what you're talking about!"

The other twin defended

"The kazoo is an atrocity made by people with no taste!"

"You just hate fun!"

"This is not fun it's torture!"

Remy intervened before the kazoo debate blows up to far.

"That's enough you two, Roman sit down. Next."

"Remus Poquelin, he/them, I play every percussion as well as the trombone, accordion, bagpipe, otamatone, and KAZOO"

The chaotic twin insisted on the word 'kazoo' just the get a reaction from his brother who growled at him.

"Hey, that makes two Rems!" Toby yelled.

"You're right one of us got to change their name it ain't me" Remy added with a joking tone.

Remus thought about it for a moment before screaming proudly "DUKE!"

There was a confused silence cute only by a little "what?" from Steve.

Remus anwserd with a big dramatic mouvement.

"Everyone! Call me duke, or duky, or D or Di-"

"We are not calling you that." Roman interrupted with a tired sigh.

Virgil was starting to wonder if they were going to always be like that because it was starting to be exhausting.

Remy probably thought the same since he downed all his coffee before pushing on with the rest of the introductions.

Luckily there were only the two girls left who didn't make a scene out of it. Named Branda and Harley. Two sopranos, none playing any instrument.

Steve had joined Virgil with his guitar and they waited for Remy to explain the year's program.

Apparently, he had planed a few small concerts around the school during the year and 3 big ones including a competition interschool, and two concerts not taken in charge by the school as extra scholar activity.

That made a lot of concerts, and no matter how much Virgil liked to play, he still hated being under the spotlight.

They then made some vocal exercises and while everyone was reading the lyric of the song they were going to work on today, Remy explains how to play the song to Virgil, Steve, and Remus who got asked to play the drums.

The song was rather simple and except for Virgil, everyone was singing. They had to start again multiple times due to Remus somehow managing to never sing the note right while still playing the drums perfectly.

"Remus, can you sing me a 'la'?" Mr. Remy asked probably starting to wonder if he was doing it voluntarily.

Remus sang a 'mi'

"Try again?"

a 're'

"No, that's worst. Again?"

a 'si'

"Ok, you're just messing with me now" The teacher sighed

Roman rose his hand.

"He's not messing with you. He actually can't do it.

He knows what note your asking of him he just can't sing it, but he can still play."

The music teacher looked confused at that.

"Do you want to be exempted from singing little duke?"

He got answered with a big nod.

So now they were two not singing.

On the other hand, Roman grew more and more comfortable with the song and his dramatic personality slowly took over until they riched the last song and he couldn't help but hold the last note for almost a full minute.

Virgil and Steve had stopped playing by now but Remus kept a drum roll for his brother with a straight face, apparently knowing that it was going to happen.

When Roman finished the bassist exchanged a look with the drumer and somehow he just knew they were thinking the same thing.

Remus grinned and suddenly they were both laughing.

Nate joined in, hiding his face in his jacket, then Remy, Amely, and in seconds everyone was laughing, Roman included.

The bell rang. Warning them that it was time to go back to class.

While cleaning everything up Virgil heard Branda comment.

"It's going to be a weird year"

Never, truer words had been said.

***<>========<>***

(Virgil : Not to be gay but *proceed to be very gay*) XD

#sanders sides #sanders sides AU #Sander side fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #prinxiety #creativitwins

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

The Ultimate Drabble

➜ 1.8k || OT7 || Fluff

➜ When all the worlds collide together.

► This is an ambitious crossover of all the main male leads of my slice of life series. Albeit short, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for joining me for such a long journey. It took over four years, but I’m glad that I was able to complete it and that you, the reader, was along the wild ride with me.

Ringg Ringgg.

The elevator sings as he gets off the right floor. The doors part and he steps out, adjusting the sleeves of his fitted black suit that hug his broad shoulders one last time and brushing a strand of his sleek hair that’s parted to one side away from his forehead.

There’s already a bustle, music and conversations leaking out from the conference hall.

But when Seokjin enters, he isn’t sure where to go.

People are already mingling, holding glasses of champagne, laughing and making small talk. No one greets him and he dawdles around for a second before he decides to approach the harpist playing at the side, right by the entrance.

“Excuse me, do you know who the event coordinator is?”

The long-legged boy lifts his head, fingers still plucking at his harp strings, but he exhibits utter confusion. His black rimmed and gawky glasses are sliding off his nose, coffee brown hair barely combed. But in his polite smile, dimples appear on each side of his cheek. “I actually don’t know, sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out who the event coordinator is too. I’m just a hired college student.”

“Oh. Well, that’s quite alright. Thank you.”

“No problem.” The boy continues plucking, playing a lovely piece to fill the background noise.

But Seokjin is back to square one.

Or at least for only a few minutes.

As soon as he arrives at the refreshments table, he catches someone’s eye and they beeline straight towards him. “Excuse me, are you Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin turns around and finds a smiling man with plump lips, rounded cheeks, and crinkled eyes. But despite the boyish exterior, Seokjin recognizes him from the shows he’s been to. He’s Tony award-winning Broadway actor, Park Jimin.

It was admirable that someone like him, with fame and power, would selflessly host such a charity purely for the betterment of humanity. Everyone these days seems to have ulterior motives, but the man looks to be the exception.

“Yes, I am.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Park Jimin.” The two men shake hands. “I couldn’t thank you enough for being one of the sponsors of our events.”

“It’s my pleasure. Valleyview Kim Hospital will always help support child welfare. If anything, I should be thanking you for reaching out to me. I wouldn’t want to miss out on such a great opportunity.”

The pair of them exchange a bit more conversation before Jimin is leading Seokjin to his designated table.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Jimin introduces and Seokjin is taken aback.

The man is tall with dark hair, dressed in a fitted suit with his sun-kissed skin glowing. He has high cheekbones with a long nose, mere presence commanding attention. But when he glances up and stands, the natural furrow of his brows seems to soften intentionally like he’s still practicing how to not look intimidating.

“Nice to meet you. I’m a partner of Jung and Park, a divorce law firm here in downtown.”

“I’m Mr. Kim Seokjin, I’m the chief executive officer of Valleyview Kim Hospital.”

“Oh, I’ve been a few times.” The lawyer seems to ease and he smiles.

“Have you?”

“Yes. Fortunately, nothing bad happened but you have an amazing team of doctors on hand.”

“Thank you. I’m glad we were able to accommodate and treat you fairly.”

Jimin smiles and moves onto the next set of people that stood from their seats to greet Seokjin. There’s a plump man who has a wide smile and a younger boy next to him. The latter has eyes the colour of a deep chestnut shade, a softened yet strong gaze. His features are gentle, cheeks rounded, lashes long, hair that looks fluffy to the touch and naturally pouty lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I am Mr. Min, president of Brilliant Top School. One of the best secondary schools in the country, and this is my son, Min Yoongi. He is a high academic, actually, the Student Council President that runs the internal affairs in our institution—”

“Dad,” the high-schooler calls in a husky voice, eyes drooping as if he’s exhausted and doesn’t want to be here.

Seokjin can empathize with him. Social events aren’t exactly exciting half the time.

“It’s nice to meet you. I look forward to hearing more about your school soon.”

They all take their seats, getting comfortable and Jimin smiles. “Dinner will begin shortly. Feel free to mingle and order any drinks or refreshments. There’s also auctions in the lobby if you haven't already taken a look. Thank you again for coming.”

The charity fundraiser looks like it’s doing well for itself. There appears to be plenty of sponsors from all across the board, different people from all kinds of different industries. Seokjin’s glad that so many can come together for such a great cause.

“Do you know who the empty seats are for?” he asks when curiosity gets the better of him.

The lawyer looks up from his menu. “Apparently, it’ll be where the First Lady is sitting.”

“The First Lady?” His brows raise in surprise.

Hoseok nods. “She was the biggest sponsor of tonight’s event or so I’m told.”

And soon enough, much to the bafflement of Seokjin, the First Lady indeed emerges. There are pictures taken with the hired photographers, people that approach and introduce themselves, shaking her hand. Swarmed by the masses, it seems like she can’t even get to the table without being stopped every few seconds. But eventually she arrives and everyone stands in courtesy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kim.”

“Likewise.” She smiles and introduces the boy Jin didn’t notice was behind her. “This is my stepson, Taehyung.”

“Hi,” he grunts half-heartedly. His blonde hair is a mess, clothing rather baggy, and the scruff all over his chin never once gives hints that he’s the wealthy son of a world leader. He doesn’t have brand name clothing, a polished appearance, or luxurious watches to his name. But despite appearing rugged, he looks not that much older than a mere college student.

“Hello.” Hands are shaken, greetings exchanged, but Taehyung doesn’t look like he wants to be here. Both he and Yoongi, with no words said to one another, seem to telepathically exchange mutual respect in that way.

A smile finds itself on Seokjin’s lips — he can still remember when he was that young and unimpressed with the world.

“Thank you for your contribution to this country.” Mr. Min is shaking the First Lady’s hand excitedly. “The funding you have put into education has helped us run so many programs for our students, like our scholarship program. The previous administration was looking to cut education, and it was absolutely terrible! It’s nice to know that there’s someone sitting in office who genuinely cares about the well-being of our children and the future generation.”

The woman is laughing politely, and this time, the principal’s son looks like he has no plans on stopping his ramble and the president’s son doesn’t look like he particularly cares either.

The former grabs his non-alcoholic champagne and downs the whole flute.

Soon, the conversations slow down and the music becomes quieter. The lights dim, and a single spotlight is put on the podium in front of the room. Jimin enters the stage, tapping the microphone once and then he flashes a brilliant smile.

“Good evening, everyone and welcome to the Break the Silence charity fundraiser. Tonight is about helping children find their voices, supporting child welfare in broken homes, and promoting the education of children in need. So, thank you for coming here tonight and aiding this great cause. Without the support and sponsors of tonight, I would’ve never been able to host such an event.”

The Broadway actor continues with his speech, speaking about each of the sponsors for the non-profit fundraiser and the bidding that’s happening in the lobby, and where the proceeds will go. Afterwards, it dials down to a more casual discussion of when meals will be served and when the bidding results will be announced.

“Thank you everyone who came here today to support the cause.” There’s loud applause that erupts through the room and the actor smiles, walking off the stage.

The harp player in the corner continues playing and plucking away at his strings, and promptly enough, the meals are served. Seokjin finds easy conversation with Hoseok. It never goes anything beyond polite work talk but he’s rather easy to speak to and Jin muses that he’s quite professional.

The First Lady is swamped the entire night, so there’s little he can say to her. Her stepson, on the other hand, doesn’t seem like he wants to talk and neither does the highschooler who’s found often texting on his phone with a smile that sometimes sneaks on his lips. His father isn’t bothered enough to ask him who it is on the other side — he’s too preoccupied speaking about the scholarship student program at his institution to other people mingling around.

But eventually, dinner is finished and dessert is served.

Though not before the chef comes out to personally introduce the dish.

“Good evening, I hope you enjoyed your dinner tonight.” The man who approaches has doe eyes and dark hair flopping to the side. His black dress shirt is tucked into his black trousers hugging his muscular frame. Apparently his name is Jeon Jungkook, a World Renowned Chocolatier, or at least what Jimin had commemorated at the beginning and what Mr. Min had whispered about prior to the dish being served. “This is a chocolate ball created by using Amedei Porcelana, a dark chocolate made by the Amedei chocolatier of Tuscany, Italy. The chocolate on the side that you pour onto the ball is a sweeter milk chocolate, and there’s crème brûlée ice-cream inside with truffle shavings.”

“Thank you.” The First Lady picks up her fork.

Mr. Min is in awe. “This is absolutely wonderful.”

And for the first time tonight, Yoongi and Taehyung look like they’re actually alive and not half dying.

“This looks delicious,” Seokjin affirms and Jungkook smiles.

“Please, enjoy.” The man continues on his way, a waiter following behind him and rolling the silver cart to help distribute the desserts.

It’s odd. Seokjin feels a sense of familiarity with these people. And in spite of being surrounded by complete strangers, he enjoys his night wholeheartedly.

The event continues, food finished and the bidding results announced. After a little more mingling, people begin to bid their farewells and Seokjin parts away from Hoseok, shaking the man’s hand once more with a promise that if the lawyer ever needs something from the hospital, then he’s just one call away. It’s an acquaintance-relationship built on mutual respect.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Kim.”

“It was a pleasure.” Jin shakes Jimin’s hand one last time. “Feel free to contact me if you ever plan on organizing an event like this again. I would love to contribute to great causes.”

“I will.” They exchange smiles.

It’s a peculiar night, but not a bitter one.

It’s sweet.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic #AND WITH THIS - THE LAST PAGE HAS BEEN TURNED

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riarushi · 4 years

Text

nct as cousins.

❥ genre- serious crack, fluff ❥ word count- 1.7k

Alternatively titled “NCT at Family Gatherings”. I think the universe wanted me to write this? Thank you to markleeholdingthings on Instagram for helping me out! (We made the most basic family dynamic on the planet.) ~Ness

➵

Taeil

Talks to the adults and enjoys it.

Some of the babies originally thought he was their uncle.

Not necessarily close with any of his cousins except the older ones that took care of him growing up.

The younger ones aren’t too familiar with him since he doesn’t talk to them, but he likes to give them little trinkets when he sees them.

Will offer to supervise the kiddos if they want to go outside.

Has a music degree (big no no in this stereotypical family) and works in music production.

Johnny

The cousin that’s stuck in college, everyone loves him but the adults don’t think he is a good life example to the youngsters.

Second favourite of the adults (because the favourite has a degree and a job).

Likes talking w his fellow millennials while sipping his wine

He likes to give advice to high school cousins.

The baby cousins fear him :( He smiles at them lots and gets them the best presents to make up for it.

Is probably still in college because he doesn’t want to join the adult table.

Taeyong

Taeyong likes the babies.

He’ll sit them on his lap while he talks to the adults, making sure to play with them a bit so they don’t get bored.

If they do anyway, he’ll get up and carry them back to the rest of the cousins, chatting with them for a while.

The adults think he would make a great father. (Some of the nosy aunts and uncles like asking about his love life lmao)

He treats the cousins around his age or older with respect.

Overall everyone likes him because he’s happy to talk and easy to get along with.

Yuta

A social genius, he tailors his approach perfectly for every generation.

Has to greet every single child at the reunion before doing anything else.

Every moment you look at him, there’s a different youngster in his arms and he’s high-fiving a different high schooler.

Well-mannered with the adults and friendly with cousins of all ages.

The high school-aged cousins love that he doesn’t treat them like angsty teenagers and he’s become a favourite among them.

Not jobless, to the relief of the parents.

Kun

Kun is the favourite, the cousin everyone gets compared to.

He’s always busy working so he’s usually late to family gatherings.

Is basically whisked away by the adults immediately to talk about adult things.

He asks high school cousins “How’s school?”. Chill with them because he saw them grow up.

Has a huge soft spot for the baby cousins.

He’ll be in the middle of a conversation and drop everything when they tug on his sleeve.

Doyoung

Quiet, he does and talks about anything but only when he’s prompted.

He’s as successful as Kun, but not as sociable.

Sits beside his parents most of the night and minds his own business.

Doyoung’s awful at supervision.

He just sits there and watches the kids make chaos.

His relatives get shocked when they see him outside of gatherings acting casually with his coworkers/friends.

Ten

He just got out of college but decided to take a year break before looking for a job.

Is a kid favourite.

Even though he’s one of the older cousins, he’s the most “hip with the kids”.

Teaches them how to cheat on tests and in general, be an awful student.

Ten does not enjoy the adult table.

All the parents think he’s talented and has a lot of potential but will he!! Stop ruining their children’s minds!!!!!

He only gets friendly with the older cousins when he’s wine drunk.

Has never met the baby cousins. (The adults are sheltering them from the chaos that is Ten at family gatherings.)

Jaehyun

Jaehyun starts off by greeting the adults and being the sweetheart he is.

The adults always want to know about his love life because “Our nephew is very handsome, no?”

Hangs out with the older cousins later, drinking beer and chatting away like best friends.

He enjoys watching them fight with each other.

Probably the youngest at his table, gets teased quite a bit. (”Yoooooo, Yoonoh’s growing up!”)

The younger kids aren’t really familiar with him.

Winwin

The favourite among the youngest cousins.

They get excited to see him every time he arrives at family gatherings.

Participates in their games (They like making him count for hide and seek.) and sits with them while eating.

He spends very small amounts of time with the adults, quickly answering any questions they have about his life.

The older cousins think he’s cute :(

After the little ones go home, he watches whatever drinking game his generation has gotten into.

Jungwoo

Jungwoo is a free soul.

He’s just there to entertain himself, watching whatever cartoon the little ones are watching.

When they turn around and see a grown man on the couch, they’re a bit startled.

The adults think he enjoys taking care of the kids, but no. The boy is there to watch Tom and Jerry for his own enjoyment.

Nobody remembers that he’s an engineering student, one moment he’s watching Blue’s Clues and the next he’s leaving to finish an assignment for class.

The high schoolers try to ask him for advice, but he just says “I literally don’t know what I’m doing.”

Lucas

This boy walks into every family gathering dressed like he’s gonna be on a runway.

Enjoys talking to the high schoolers about how their school’s changed since he graduated.

Other than them, he joins any conversation on invite.

The youngsters climb him like he’s a playground item.

There’s just kids hanging off him while he laughs at some joke his uncle made.

Sometimes, they shout “Big brother Yukhei!” into his ear and he just pats their head silently before continuing on with his business.

Mark

Follows his parents around.

He’s wrapped up in his own thoughts instead of whatever his mom is talking about with his relatives.

I’m kinda hungry, should I grab that cookie? I’m gonna grab that cookie.

At some point, his parents get fed up with him “acting like an eight year old,” so he gets sent to play with his fellow cousins.

Asks for the WiFi password and then sits on the couch all night scrolling through his phone.

He doesn’t talk to his cousins because he never knew how to.

Xiaojun

A sweetheart with the most patience.

Same question from every single adult about school? No problem, he’ll answer it as many times as he needs to.

The youngsters like to pull pranks on him because they know he won’t scold them afterwards.

“Did we get you good, Dejun-ge?” “Yeah, I almost had a heart attack, haha.”

Helps the babies get food.

Just has a great family bond with everyone.

Hendery

Hendery likes to look for the older cousins that take care of him, initiating conversation.

If they’re busy or stop talking to him, he goes to the crowd of younger cousins on the couch and chills with his phone.

Occasionally, he’ll show them all some memes he has.

“Haha, guys look at this one.”

Mimics the children screaming in the background to get some chuckles from them, too.

The adults don’t think much of him, he’s a chill kid doing his thing.

Renjun

He’s quiet and polite for the most part, especially towards the adults.

With his cousins, he jumps in to say one-line roasts about people mentioned in conversation and then goes back to being silent.

They might say something like “My school friends are so weird!” and Renjun simply replies with “Makes sense why you’re friends, then.”

One of the baby cousins likes to hug his leg, and he smooths their hair or holds their cheek absentmindedly.

An art major, but the adults aren’t worried since he’s smart.

When alone in a room, he’s doodling on some scrap paper he found.

Jeno

Close with the cousins around his age.

Has a group chat with them and texts them to come to the living room.

When they arrive he just goes “Wanna play Spaceteam?”

He plays party games with them for the rest of the night.

If the other cousins want to join in, he’ll teach them how to play.

The adults don’t think much of him, they usually just ask how he is and he replies with “Good!” and a smile.

Haechan

Haechan is The Annoying Cousin™.

He comes off as very cold and bitchy usually.

At family gatherings, he participates in games and gets overly competitive.

WILL cheat or flip the table, causes all the chaos.

The parents aren’t a fan of him, the kids either love him or hate him.

Older cousins think he’s entertaining lmao

Jaemin

Normal until some random kid screams his name.

From then on he is in full kindergarten teacher mode.

Brings an entire crowd of noisy toddlers to the tables and everyone is just in shock.

His older cousins know he’ll come around and chat with them once the kids go home, so they save him a bottle when he gets there.

The adults have a good image of him: handsome, smart, charming. They think he’ll get married early.

It’s a celebration if his mom announces he’s seeing someone.

Yangyang

Starts heated debates among his cousins.

If he’s in the zone and an older cousin tries to put an educational twist on the argument, he’ll start bullying them out of the room.

“From what I learnt in college--” “THIS IS A DEBATE AMONGST THE YOUTH.”

Two seconds later, he’s back to being friendly and cheery, talking casually and normally.

The adults don’t believe their children when they tell them what happened upstairs with Yangyang.

They think he’s the sweetest kid of the bunch.

Chenle

Chenle is just comfortable and gets absorbed in the atmosphere.

“Chenle, go play with your cousins.” “Hey guys! My mom said to play with you”.

All his cousins get along with him.

He thinks the baby cousins are cute and will baby them.

Lets them sit on his lap while he plays card games. (Probably lets them choose cards for him sometimes, too.)

Youngest of his generation, everyone loves him to pieces.

Jisung

He does not want to be at the family gatherings.

Awkwardly trails his parents because he doesn’t know what to do.

Has to be pushed towards the food by relatives and just goes “Oh. Um, okay.”

The older cousins ruffle his hair and ask him, “Aye, Jisung! How’s school?” “I-It’s good...”

The younger ones do not find him approachable.

Asks his parents when they’re going home as soon as 9 PM hits.

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okay-victoria · 3 years

Text

Writing Dialogue

While some choices in dialogue will come down to style preference, most fanfic dialogue suffers from a much earlier problem of being done incorrectly, no matter what the stylistic preference. Once basic spelling & grammar is mastered, and assuming the fic contains more than a handful of dialogue, I think bad dialogue is the thing that kills my enjoyment the fastest. I can handwave plotholes and understand emotions that weren’t conveyed right, but I can’t read people having a conversation that doesn’t look anything like an actual human conversation.

Problem 1: Too Much Drama

We want our scenes to pulse with energy! Of course we want the dialogue to be dramatic! The problem here is, what makes for good dramatic dialogue is not people yelling powerful words at each other very passionately. What makes for dramatic dialogue is mostly the importance of that scene to the plot & the characters, so to achieve dramatic dialogue, the best thing you can do is not overly rely on the dialogue itself to be dramatic. Set up a dramatic situation, and then people don’t have to yell. They can say a few basic sentences and the audience already knows why it is important and why the characters care so much.

Have you ever seen the scene in The Room where Tommy Wiseau yells “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!” Did you actually find that dramatic or did it just make you laugh because it was overdramatized? That’s what dramatic dialogue does to a story. Unless your characters are middle schoolers exclaiming it out in the hall between classes, chances are, older and more mature characters aren’t going to do a lot of yelling or make weirdly dramatic statements like the world is ending.

One of the biggest offenses on this count is overusing exclamation points and overusing emphasis. Exclamation points should be used very, very rarely, as should telling your reader what words are meant to be emphasized. Your character’s mood should primarily come through action - are they slamming doors, pacing back and forth, collapsing into a chair? Dialogue tags like “shouted” or “replied angrily” can be used to help, but should not stand on their own as the only thing portraying mood.

Instead of looking like this: “OMG! Can you believe it! Drama! Let me scream all the drama out in a monologue!” Lisa screamed, it should look like *Lisa kicks off her shoes, one leaves a mark on the wall* *Lisa slams bag down on counter, opens fridge for beer* *Lisa’s boyfriend stands frozen, as this is not normally how Lisa comes home from work. “This thing happened.” *Lisa collapses into kitchen chair and sticks head in her hands.* *Lisa’s boyfriend comes to put a hand on her back*. “One sentence reminding reader why Lisa is upset about this”.

Problem 2: Too Little Drama

Alternatively, you get scenes that sometimes look like two college roommates got high and are trying to acquire a pizza with as little effort as possible. Let’s say, for example, you have one character that has a crush on another character, and they are trying to find out information about them. While maybe the character learning this information is going to do something with it, so it’s important to the plot in another way, so the conversation itself does not need to be dramatic, it might end up looking like this:

I met Crush after class and we walked together. “What’s your favorite color?” - “Red” - “Do you like dogs?” - “Yes. Did you do the homework?” - “Yes. Math is my favorite class. How about you?” - “P.E.”

Like with the above, setup and action are everything. If you set up the scene where we know in advance how long it has taken Karen to get up the courage to talk to Chad and things like that, and then include actions in between the dialogue to show that she is nervous and therefore not very talkative, like her glancing up at him briefly but looking away as soon as he makes eye contact, or have her analyze Chad’s mood and wonder if he’s annoyed, etc, the scene can be made much more meaningful without needing to be a “dramatic” scene.

Problem 3: Dialogue is written like exposition

This tends to go unnoticed by some authors who are otherwise decent, and for me really ruins an otherwise decent story. The writing within the dialogue tags is written well, it just isn’t written like dialogue. It is written like exposition/narration.

In exposition: This project was doomed from the beginning. The improvements might look nice on paper, but the law of diminishing returns was going to stop it before it really started. Sounds...not excellent, I just pulled an example out of my ass, but fine.

In dialogue: “I think this project is doomed already,” Bob said, looking around the meeting room. “The improvements might look nice on paper, but the law of diminishing returns is going to stop it before it really starts.”

...sounds like Bob is kind of a psycho, or possibly your most pompous and hated coworker. Who the hell says “Law of Diminishing Returns” out loud if they aren’t a professor? The longer the dialogue and more flowery/technical/big vocab it becomes, which often *adds* to exposition, the worse and more unnatural the dialogue becomes.

Dialogue should not feel the same as the “speech” when a character is thinking. We tend to be fairly limited in how we express ourselves, use shorter and more simple sentence structures, more basic vocabulary, and haven’t memorized what we are going to say, so it doesn’t come out eloquently.

The one real exception to this that isn’t really dialogue, but is speech, is if you have a character making a speech or presentation, which they have prepared for in advance, and it is reasonable for them to give it uninterrupted.

If you want to make a point of one of your characters sounding like a total tool when they speak, you can also do this to achieve that and make it immediately clear to the audience why everyone hates them, but unless that’s what you’re going for, avoid this at all costs.

Problem 4: Dialogue is otherwise unnatural

Always, always, until you’re pretty damn sure you’re pretty damn good at it, say your dialogue out loud.

Would that personally really say “What is that?” or is it “What’s that?” Along the lines of not needing to use emphasis as much as you might think, if you were, say, in Scotland and just saw the Loch Ness monster pop out and want to ask your companion what it is, “What is that?” is fairly unnecessary. “What is that?” suffices. The simple fact that you didn’t use the standard contraction means the character emphasized the “is”. If you just see a piece of mail on someone’s desk that you are curious about, you’re going to say “What’s that?” and it won’t sound like you are dramatically asking about a generic piece of mail.

There are lots of very minor and small things that can easily go wrong in dialogue of this nature. It’s really important to say to yourself: if I was in this situation, how would I say it? Read it like you are acting it out in a movie and see. Also, question if a person would even say a sentence like that to begin with, or if they would be more or less direct in their approach. More direct is appropriate in many cases because people are usually trying to communicate clearly. Even if they are lying, they usually just say a direct statement that is a lie, they don’t dance around it indirectly and give hints to the other character. More indirect is appropriate when a character is trying to have a difficult conversation - we don’t tend to give tough advice or be directly rude, we try to work around it to make it sound better.

Because people want to have “exciting” or “cool” dialogue, they will often also give characters great rebuttals all the time, where they have these snappy conversations. This *can* work, but it’s really hard to pull off well, so in general I’d limit it to having a character having the occasional good rebuttal than a conversation of back-and-forth snark. Honestly, most of us just can’t think on our feet that well, and unless you’ve built the case that these characters can [ie, they’ve been married 20 years and are having the same arguments over and over so have it all thought out] it just seems very unrealistic.

Problem 5: Underutilizing dialogue tags

If you have two characters speaking, theoretically, if we know who the first speaker is and they switch off, a reader can follow the conversation indefinitely and know who is speaking.

In practice, that doesn’t happen. We like to be occasionally reminded. Personally, I try to max out at four consecutive lines of untagged speech, so no more than:

“Hey” said Kyle when he saw Brad.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Partying, bro, what did you think?”

“Haha, true. Do you think Lindsey will be there?”

“Man, you have such a crush on her,” Brad laughed.

Problem 6: Overusing dialogue tags

Conversely, in a conversation that is easy to follow, every single line does not need to be followed by a variation of “X person said”. If you are going for a tight back and forth conversation where neither character is thinking in between, you want to gum it up as little as possible with extraneous non-conversation. Hit us with occasional dialogue tags, and that’s it.

Problem 7: Not breaking dialogue up

This is somewhat of a style question, but in general, conversations should only be quick back and forth when that’s the point, but otherwise should generally pause briefly to “show” people doing actions, give some character thoughts, or otherwise break it up so the entire scene isn’t just a conversation.

Also, you can use these pauses as a way of showing hesitation/actual pauses that happen in the conversation.

Problem 8: Huge breaks between dialogue

This is something I am probably the *most* guilty of myself, because I’m writing a story where characters analyze the other characters a lot, so sometimes they’ll pause and think for a while in between. I haven’t quite arrived at the level where I’ve figured out how to get that all to flow in a way that breaks the dialogue up nicely, but not so much it is jarring and you’ve forgotten what the last thing a character said was.

But, anyway, definitely something to keep in mind. While a scene shouldn’t usually be all conversation, breaking the conversation up too much makes it feel like it isn’t a conversation at all.

#writingtech

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troop-scoop · 4 years

Text

Mistakes & Regrets IX

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, (Italics are memories when they’re in bulk, but if it’s one line it’s a thought!)

A/n: Yes I know, a bit of a confusing chapter, I will clear it up as the story goes on.

•••

“Okay, so, in this example,” Mike pointed to the paper he’d drawn on in red pen, of a line, like a tightrope, with a stick figure and a crapily drawn bug. “We’re the acrobat, Will, Barbara, that monster and you are this flea.” the dark haired child told you, pointing to the paper. “And this is the Upside Down, where you hid, and where Will is hiding. Mr Clark said the only way to get there is through a rip through time and space, that’s how you got there, even though you’re from the future.”

You nodded without much though, brows furrowed. You didn’t expect such a detailed lecture from a twelve year old, yet, here you were.

“Caused by a gate.” Dustin added.

“That we tracked to Hawkins lab.”

“With our compasses.”

You nodded again. “That would make sense. . . It would probably have a stronger electromagnetic field than the north pole, so the needle would point you to the gate.” You weren’t good in science class, but you did still know things.

“Exactly!” Dustin explained. “See, guys!” He told his friends, gesturing to you. “Even the time traveling weirdo knew!”

“This gate underground?” Hopper asked.

The girl, who’s name you learned was Eleven, looked to Hopper with a blank expression. “Yes.”

“Near a large water tank?” He asked again.

Her answer was the same. “How did you know all that?” Dustin questioned.

“He’s seen it.”

You looked to your grandmother who’s grip on your hands tightened as she began to speak to Eleven. “Is there any way that you could. . . that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this-”

“The Upside Down.” Eleven corrected.

You knew that Joyce was holding onto you so tightly because you were her granddaughter, and just a kid, but you also resembled her son in many ways.

“Down. Yeah.” Joyce whispered.

“She did it with me. . . When I was there. I saw her.” You told them. “She saw me too.”

“I didn’t do that.”

•••

What were you supposed to be thinking about while emptying a bag full of salt into the large kiddie pool with Hopper and Jonathan? That this was normal? That any of it had you feeling like you were perfectly sane. You felt like you were losing your mind.

Maybe you were. Maybe you were really in 1983, but you’d imagined what that boy had said to you. That you imagined that entire scenario of buying a kid water balloons. Maybe you never did see Eleven in the Upside Down, as the middle schoolers liked to call it. But she remembered you too.

Maybe you weren’t crazy. Maybe you were just. . . having a fever dream. That had to be it, right?

No, this was real, you were just trying to deny it, find any semblance of hope that you weren’t really there, filling up a kiddie pool with salt that Hawkins used for the roads.

There was no explanation for how you could have possibly seen that boy in August, even though you didn’t show up in 1983 until September 5th. There was no explanation as to how you could have seen Eleven in that place, when she wasn’t the one who made it happen.

But now you could clearly remember quite a few moments where things didn’t seem to add up in Hawkins. Like how you’d been walking with your dads and your brother, and stopped at the crosswalk with two girls who didn’t seem to know what personal space was, talking about Madonna as if she was new. Their clothing way out of date, with a pair of Levi’s, and , but you were never one to judge.

But maybe they were talking about Madonna as if she was new, because she was to them. There were so many ‘maybes’ that you could dwell on, theorize over, analyze like you were good at, but that was exhausting. You’d barely eaten that day, just two donuts and a coffee and that was earlier in the day, it was late now, you were tired, and wanted to sit in the shower.

The realizations just kept coming to you, though. Memories of being in Hawkins and seeing people who were out of place, or like the time you’d gone to a cafe with your family in what your dad used to be the arcade he always went to as a kid, and you’d blinked once after getting your smoothie, and the entire cafe was replaced with arcade games and children happily playing them before you blinked again and you were back in the cafe.

The same happened when you’d been walking around Hawkins the afternoon before the incident in the restaurant that made you run off, and end up in that place. You’d been minding your own business when it happened, once again, you blinked, and everything was slightly different, hazy, yet clear. It looked like 1980’s Hawkins instead of the one you’d been in.

Pulling the empty bag away from the kiddie pool, you tossed it onto the floor and looked at Joyce who nodded a bit, holding the goggles you’d found in a science lab that Joyce covered in duct tape to make it dark for Eleven.

You then looked to Dustin who lowered an egg into the kiddie pool, and to your relief, it floated. “Okay, Kid, let’s get you in.” Eleven nodded a bit, taking the watch off of her wrist and handing it to Mike who put it on his wrist. Joyce handed her the goggles. Grabbing onto Eleven’s hand, you helped her into the pool while everyone surrounded the pool, watching as she lowered herself down to float in the salt water.

Joyce took your hand, holding it in her own. Her spare steadying Eleven in the water while your spare reached out for the girl’s hand, which she grabbed onto and held tightly in her’s.

“Barbara?” Eleven questioned. Your eyes looked to Nancy whose gaze was focused on the twelve year old female.

“Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

You gave Eleven’s hand a gentle squeeze, the kind your Pa taught you how to do. She squeezed your hand back but didn’t relinquish her grasp, which told you something was wrong.

“Gone. Gone! Gone!” Joyce released your hand and grabbed onto her shoulders while Hopper grabbed the girl’s other hand.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Joyce kept repeating while Eleven calmed down. But Nancy wasn’t calm, instead holding back tears of her own while Jonathan held her.

“Castle Byers. Will?”

Your ears perked up, and so did Joyce’s. “Tell him. Tell him I’m coming, Mom is coming.”

From the walkie that you’d brought and placed on the medal cart holding the bags of salt you could hear his voice “Hurry”

•••

“Hey, Pa, Look at this!” Daniel said excitedly, holding out his phone for Pa to see the new high score on Tetris.

“Kid, I can't, I’m driving.” Pa reminded, gesturing to the empty road. You were close to Dad’s hometown now. Hawkins, Indiana a small town in northern Indiana, but not anywhere close to Lake Michigan.

“Yeah, Danny, Pa’s driving.” You told him matteraffactly with a smile. You were the older sibling, it was your job to antagonize your little brother.

“Shut up!”

“Daniel!” Dad scolded, turning to face the two of you from the passenger seat of the Chevy. His usually soft and kind eyes, clearly annoyed with how the two of you had been treating each other the entire trip. “Stop telling your sister to shut up all the time. It’s rude, and annoying.”

You chuckled a bit and the tip of Dad’s pointer finger was facing you, causing you to just smile brightly at him, thoroughly amused.

“Will, c’mon, you know her ‘fear sensor’ is broken. Remember when Danny threatened her with a fork?”

You chuckled again and Dad just sighed at the memory, turning back to face the windshield. You’d all gotten back getting fast food, Daniel ordered boneless wings, and it came with a plastic fork. You’d said something to annoy him, and flat out, in front of your fathers, Danny threatened to stab you with it. To which you responded ‘Do it, Punk.’ You weren’t scared of your brother.

The car grew quiet except for the music playing on the radio, which quickly turned to mostly static, which drew everyone’s attention. “Can I connect my phone?” You asked, holding up the device.

“Uh. . . yeah, yeah sure.” Dad told you.

“What? Why can’t I ever connect mine?” Daniel demanded. Offended that on the way to Indiana only you and your parents had played things from your phones.

“Because we actually have good music!” You shot back.

“What? Mine’s way better!”

“Dubstep isn’t music, asshole!”

“Hey!” Pa and Dad both shouted at the same time, Dad holding the cord out to you to connect your phone, and the moment you reached for it, the static shifted a bit.

“August fifth 1985-”

Your dad reached to the volume knob, turning it to the right to turn it up, amplifying the static female voice over the airwaves.

“September- Castle by-”

“Dad?”

“Sh!” Dad told Daniel. Your brother’s hand found your own on the center seat while the two of you watched your Dad staring at the radio intently while Pa stole frequent glances to his husband while still trying to keep an eye on the road.

“I’m sorry- Mist-”

“Will? Babe, what’s wrong?” Pa asked. He was freaking all of you out a bit with how intently he was listening to the familiar voice.

“Sh!” He repeated, stunning you all into permanent silence.

“No word for- Explainat- Ste-”

The radio went back to normal, and you saw the unreadable expression on your dad’s face and he leaned back into his seat, eyes still on the radio as Ed Sheeran’s name came across the screen, as well as the name of the song.

“Dad? What was that?”

He stayed silent.

“You know, Sweetheart, sometimes when we’re in a lower area than before, the signal doesn’t reach us as well. . . It kinda changes between two stations.” Pa tried to reason, his hand holding Dad’s as he continued driving.

“Yeah. . . Right.” You agreed, though you weren’t convinced, something about it wasn’t right.

•••

“Name please? Your full name.”

Looking up from the iron tabletop you met eyes with the man who had a few papers sprawled around on his side of the table, a fountain pen at the ready to write.

You hesitate for a moment. “Y/n Byers L/n.”

Everything was too much, trying to process how Joyce and Hopper left you, Nancy and Jonathan with the kids, and then Nancy and Jonathan left which resulted in all of this. The trauma of holding Mike in your arms as tight as your could on the ground as if he was your own brother while Eleven and that. . . thing both died.

You remembered his tears and how he clutched onto your shirt in that seventh grade science class classroom, his heat against your chest while you tried to soothe him. You remembered how Dustin and Lucas came to you for comfort as well.

“Year of birth?”

“2004.” You relayed blankly. The sounds of Mike’s muffled sobbing echoing around in her head while you sat in front of the government official.

“Home residence?”

“425 Culpepper Lane, Weehawken, New Jersey.” The voice that you’d heard while running with Eleven in your arms also still echoing.

‘Today is just another day of trying to get by without her.’

It was your brother’s voice. But not as high pitched, or squeaky.

He asked your age. “Fifteen.” Was your response, looking down at your hands, where Eleven’s dried blood was smeared over your palm when you wiped it away from her nose. It was caked into your skin.

“Alright Miss Byers, correct me on anything I might have wrong. Y/n Byers L/n born 2004 aged fifteen, raised at the address of 425 Culpepper Lane in Weehawken, New Jersey?” You nodded a bit and looked back up at him,

“Biological daughter of William Byers?” He asked. once again, you nodded.

“Alright, Miss Byers, we need to go over a few more things.” He told you, taking out a large file and placing it on the table in front of you.

“LIke?”

“How your new life will look. Unfortunately, we can’t get you back home to your time, we’ll help you build a new life here. We’ll give you a birth certificate, emancipation papers, and we’ll give you a monthly stipend for however much minimum wage is where you’re from.” He told you, taking out a calculator from the folder, ready to calculate how much you’d be getting from them. “How much is it per hour?”

“Like, ten dollars.” You shrugged a bit. Now not only trying to process the sobbing and tears that had stained your shirt and the girl who had disappeared before your eyes, probably dead, but now you had to process that the government was going to try and buy your silence.

“Ten dollars?” He questioned, looking up at you from the calculator. “That’s outrageous!”

You tilted your head a bit, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. “Yeah, out of everything about my life so far, the most outrageous thing is the minimum wage in New Jersey as of late 2019. Inflation’s a bit of a bitch, isn’t it?”

The man’s pale skin went flush, as if he just remembered who he was talking to. That you weren’t just an adult he was negotiating with, but that you were a fifteen year old girl who wouldn’t see the world like you knew it for another 36 years, where, biological, you’d be a fifty-one year old woman who lived her entire life in the past, instead of the fifteen year old girl who had her entire future in front of her.

“I apologize. . .” He spoke, typing into the device and then taking out a check book and uncapping his fountain pen, writing down on the small rectangular paper. Ripping it off, he handed it to you.

You just stared at the check for a moment before reluctantly taking it from him. Holding

it between your thumb and index finger, staring down at the beige paper without much thought, your vision not focused on anything in particular on the sheet.

“We’ll have you moved into an apartment by the end of next week, and pay for rent for the first few months. We’ll give you a budget for furniture,-”

You began to zone him out, going back to a few hours prior. How when Eleven threw Mike back he landed against the cabinets. You were by his side in an instant, holding him while everyone watched in shock as Eleven sacrificed herself.

Even twenty minutes after it was all over, you still held him on the linoleum floor listening to his crying while he held onto you for dear life. To him, you were a stranger, yet he trusted you enough to cry in your arms. A twelve year old version of your Uncle Mike, who you knew well. But you barely knew this boy. He was just a kid. He wasn’t the man guy you knew as your Uncle Mike yet. He was just a scared and sad kid.

“Miss. Byers.”

You looked up snapped out of your train of thought, meeting the ice blue eyes that the men held. “You’ll be going by Y/n L/n, only. Byers is no longer your name. And you have to stay quiet about all this. We’ll talking to Mr. Sinclair, Henderson, and Wheeler, as well as Mrs. Byers and her son. We’ll speak with the chief as well as Miss Wheeler. No one can know you’re from the future. Or anything that’s happened due to Hawkins lab. We need you to sign this NDA. You can never speak about this again. Is that understood?” His question was assertive as he put the fountain pen in your hand.

“Okay.” It was a whisper, but he understood it while you signed the papers, handing them back to him.

“You and the Byers boy will come to the lab periodically to get checked up, mentally and physically-”

“Excuse me?” You questioned, tilting your head a bit.

He cleared his throat, “You and William were in that place for extended periods of time. And we’re concerned about your health. The atmosphere there was toxic. We’re afraid that it could affect your long term health. Especially yours. How long were you there exactly.”

“A while.” You started recounting the amount of times the hands on your watch went by. “A month? Maybe?”

His face shifted as he stared at you, before writing something down on his paper. You could remember how many times you’d counted after the Demogorgon busted its way out of the wall in the middle school. You could remember plenty about it now. How you’d take a few sips of water from your water bottle to make sure you were at least a bit hydrated, but you were conserving it.

You’d always retained a bit of your baby fat from being an infant, but you’d crawled out of that place without any of it, and your baby face was practically gone. Cheeks a bit sunken in, barely noticeable, but you’d noticed it. You’d also noticed how you could see the bump where your ribcage ended without having to stretch up. You didn’t look like you. You didn’t look like the little girl who ran around the house while either your pa or dad chased after you. You didn’t look like the kid who you’d seen in the mirror the morning you called yourself an expensive disappointment. Now you supposed you were an expensive missing disappointment.

“Alright Miss L/n. Send in Henderson when you leave.” He gestured to the door. It didn’t seem right, everything about it was slightly off as you stood from the chair, grabbing your bag and leaving the room into the brightly lit hospital hallway.

“Dustin.” You called to the waiting room, seeing the curly haired boy look up at you in curiosity before seeing you gesture to the door with your head. He got up and went in.

•••

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the wall and your walkman playing Queen at full volume. You needed it. It was the only thing keeping you sane while the boys were with Jonathan, Joyce and Will.

You’d sat with the boys before they were able to go back. Being the emotional support that the three needed. Even if their parents were there, they’d never understand what the boys went through. You did, and you’d be there for them as best as you could.

But the moment they left, and Nancy and her mother had gone to get something to eat, you’d gotten up and went over to the vending machine, which refused to work. So you’d opted for the ridiculous look of having your walkman clipped to the collar of your hoodie, hair a mess and dark bags under your eyes, a scowl on your face.

Eyes closed you just listened to Freddie Mercury’s voice, your foot tapping to the guitar rift. And even though you were completely absorbed into your music, you weren’t oblivious the feeling of someone standing next to you before sitting down.

Opening your eyes you turned your head to see Steve sitting next to you. His face bruised and a few cuts from how harshly Jonathan had punched him. But you were pretty sure the small one by the crease of his nostril was from you.

You pulled the headset off of you ears and stared at him while he said nothing, the music now being heard by both of you.

“I’m a giant prick, huh?” It made you smile a bit, tilting your head in confusion as he turned his head to look at you, eyes soft. “I mean- I fucked up. I over reacted over Jonathan and Nancy, I’m. . . I’m sorry that I was mean to you.”

You shrugged a bit, keeping quiet which left him confused. You always had something to say to him, always was quick to playfully insult him, or give a come back, you usually said something witty to keep up the banter and conversations.

“Y/n, you gotta give me something to work with, I don’t know how to talk to you right now. You look like you want to equally cry and punch me again.”

“I don’t wanna punch you.” You finally said, turning your head back to where the wall and ceiling met in front of you. “Just a bad day overall. I mean, i go to very early this morning, like two am, and then Jonathan had the fucking audacity to wake me up at seven. And then you and your shit-stirrer friends pissed me off, I bruised my hand.” He said, lifting up the fist you’d used to punch him, maybe a bit too hard. “Got arrested, only ate two donuts in the morning, then I. . . deal with a lot of mind-fucking bullshit, then I filled a kiddie pool with salt. Fucking salt. It wasn’t even really a kiddie, it was giant. And then! Oh and then, I ate a fucking can of choclate pudding! I hate pudding! I was just hungry! And then I held a twelve year old in my arms in a empty science class while he cried.”

Steve stared at you, seeing the stress that had been put on your shoulders throughout the entire day. He didn’t know what to say. What was there to be said? You were trying to cope with something, and he couldn’t see what it was.

“Yeah, that. . . sucks.” Was all he could say but it got a frustrated and annoyed groan out of you.

“Yikes! Just say yikes! Or if it’s really bad ‘big yikes!’” You’d said it so many times back to back that it didn’t sound like a real word to you.

But Steve found it interesting while he stared at you, examining the way the hoodie fell around your silhouette, and the ridiculous way you had your walkman clipped right under your neck. The pink medal being a very stark contrast to what you were wearing

“Yikes.” He repeated with a smile.

A brief grin came across your face as he said it.

“So, we’re still friends?” He asked, sitting up straight and turning his whole body to face you, his legs crossed like a kindergartener on the class carpet, in his own colored square.

“We were friends before?” You asked teasingly, doing the same to face him, and like you were as a kindergartener, sticking a leg out. Which always got you into trouble.

“Shut up.”

“Y/n!”

Turning your head you saw Jonathan coming down the hall, A piece of stained paper in hand as he came over. You didn’t miss the way that both Steve and Jonathan glanced at each other, though.

“Jona-”

“Here. I think you’ll want to see this.” He told you, holding out the folded piece of paper out to you, which you hesitantly took as Steve picked up on the cue to leave

“I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later?” You nodded as a response, watching as Steve stood up and went back to the opened waiting area while Jonathan squatted down next to you as you unfolded the paper only to be met with a photo of your own face. The word ‘missing’ right above it in all capital letters, your name, age, and facial description on it, as well as what you’d been wearing when you’d ran off that night. The date of your birth, and the date of that night.

“Mom said she found it in there.” Jonathan informed you while you kept examining the photo of yourself. Your hair pushed behind your ears, a smile on your face in a pale blue sweater around Christmas time.

“No. . .”

•••

Add yourself to the taglist!

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#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Until My Heart Stops Racing

Pairing: Mitch x Mike (or Bitch as I like to call them, ya know cause Believe x Mitch.....nvm lol)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @lisathefan who gave me the cutest prompt and I know she loves her crack ships. I hope you enjoy my dear and thanks to my beta, Faxx for helping me!

Word count: 5538

---

The car whipped into the parking space, dirt flying around us and I felt my heart rate finally go back to its normal beating. I looked over to Butch who had a goofy grin and ignoring everything he just did.

“Butch your driving is terrible. Now I get why you fly everywhere.” I groaned as I finally got out of the car. “I swear if Brick saw how you drove this thing... actually I don’t want to think about it.” I thought that speeding was illegal but apparently if the cops can’t even see your car, it's a free pass. And being in touch with the puffs might be a bonus we all have.

Butch let out a laugh before locking the car. “Relaxe Mike, what Brick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugged and sometimes I wondered how he could even say that. Brick could kill someone with just a glance but when you are a superhuman, and his brother, maybe the effect doesn’t work.

Maybe I should ask Blossom about that.

The beeping of other cars brought me out of my trance as I followed him on the dirt path.

“Anyways, why did you drag me all the way out here?” I turned to see the lights and the signs. “The fair?”

In front of me was the entrance to what could only be deemed as a somehow legal way to make people shell out three hundred dollars on cheap food and even cheaper ride systems. Every kid wanted to go to the fair and, yeah, it was fun when you were five, but now that we had just graduated high school, it seemed more dangerous than fun.

“Yeah, why not?”

I glanced at him and he only smiled widely but something in his eyes had mischief written all over it. “What's the deal?”

He sighed and smirked.

“A little birdy told me you got heart eyes for a certain someone.” Butch threw his arm around my shoulder. “And as the king of romance, I’m gonna help you out.”

Theres always a small tinge of fear whenever Butch gets an idea. It either ends badly where someone gets hurt, usually him or bad in the way that we all get in trouble and the notorious Powerpuff Girls have to get us out of it. But this...this was much worse.

“Butch, what did you do?” I said through gritted teeth. He only laughed at me instead of answering and pushed up towards the gates.

“Relax. Look they are here.” He pointed.

I followed his sight and walking up towards us was Buttercup, Robin and Mitch. Butch let out another laugh, probably because he could hear my heartbeat. Fuck superhearing. Of course Robin opened her mouth. You tell a girl while you’re throwing up that you have the biggest crush on your best friend who wears dark leather, has piercings and makes your heart swoon and think that she can keep her mouth shut. But no, she can’t.

“Hey guys.” Butch waves to him before leaving me to wrap his arms around Buttercup and ignore the public by kissing her square on the lips. PDA is always gross unless you’re the one doing it, so I can’t blame them. Also it's funny to watch her smack his arm.

“Sup Mikey.” Robin smiles smugly. Little demon.

“Hey. Hi Mitch.” He gives me a wave and a nod of the head and I have to mentally tell myself not to blush. Stupid hormons.

“Come on you two.” Robin says and grabs my arm and Mitch’s and forces us towards the carnival’s entrance. “Lets go!”

One of the perks to being besties with the puffs is the mass amount of freebies. Buttercup swiftly pulled out a ticket for each of us and handed it to the ticket collector.

“Sweet, free entrance.” Mitch smiled at me and held up his hand for a fist bump.

I gladly returned the gesture and every time I did so, I wondered if he could feel the electric spark between us. God, I need to stop reading romance novels.

“Alright losers. We’ll see you all later tonight, meet up for fireworks at 9?” Buttercup said and apparently everyone already had a plan that I was not aware of.

“Sounds good to me!” Butch smirked. “BC and I are going to do coupley stuff no one wants to see and Robin said something about henna soooooo.” He looked at me. “Guess Mitchy boy and Mikey are on their own.” I didn’t miss his wink and before I could protest, everyone was walking away.

My mind was now racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I realized in this moment that the group had ganged up on us, well specifically me. Mitch probably didn’t even think twice as the group broke up but they were out of their minds if they thought something was going to happen.

“Wanna hit the rides?” He asked.

I take a breath before nodding. We turn into the direction of the ride area and I have to remind myself that he is just a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I usually have my emotions in check but for some reason, they want to act up now. All I have to do is get through tonight without embarrassing myself or giving Butch the satisfation of him being the king of romance. As if that were possible.

The area is buzzing with so much energy. There’s little kids whining and screams coming from the various rides. The smells of corn dogs, popcorn and, oddly enough, waffles mixed in the air and I can’t tell if it smells good or not but I know my pockets are gonna be much lighter by the end of the night.

We get into the shortest line for the tickets and it's truly a scam that each ride is a separate cost.

“I don’t feel like dying tonight so I think two rides is good for me.” Mitch says and I laugh a little because it's true. Just watching the swings makes me feel like one of them unhinge and plummet to the ground but that's what I get for being a paranoid person.

“I feel you. How about the rollercoaster and ummm... the spinning ride?” I suggest.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles and god fucking dammit, those damn dimples.

The line moves as we chat about the newest horror movie coming into theaters and how Mitch saw a certain pair of redheads making out in a car.

“Wait for real?”

“I swear to god dude.” He raised his hand. “Unless some other chick wears a big ass bow, it has to be them.”

“Interesting.” I smile and soon we get called next.

“Hi there boys, how many tickets can I get ya?” the older woman asks.

“Ten.” Mitch says and I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet, that may or may not have a photo of all of our friends and definitely not for the reason that I can see his face at any given time, but Mitch stops me and places the cash in the tin. “I got it.” he says casually and something inside me felt all warm and fuzzy as the row of blue tickets was handed to him.

“Have a nice date night.” The woman says as we walk away and I almost do a double take thinking I heard her wrong. But when I look over to Mitch, he seems unaffected by the words so I just let it slide.

The rollercoaster isn’t as grand or cool as the ones at the theme park, it doesn’t even go upside down but it has a good bit of hills and bumps to give some air time so i guess it will do. The only problem is that these workers don’t care and make Mitch and I sit in the same cart as these two younger kids.

After we get the bars onto us, the ride starts to go. In front of us the girl grabs the boy's arm and I give a small eye roll as we start to climb the lift hill.

“Babe I'm scared.” She cries and he wraps an arm around her shoulders and I’ve never been so jealous of middle schoolers before.

“These carts are so damn small.” Mitch complains. And it's true. The two of us squished in this together leaves no space for our arms. The pressure of our shoulders touching isn’t too bad but it's to the point it almost hurts. “Hold on.” He says and I feel him pull his right arm away from mine and throw it behind us. “Sorry this is better.”

“No, it's cool bro.” I say even though I realize that this boy really just made it ten times harder to breath now.

I can barely grasp my surroundings as the rollercoaster takes its first turn before the drop. I can see the ending of the track as we go down but the only thing my brain is processing is the fingers tightening on my shoulder.

“Holy shit.” I mumble hoping that Mitch doesn’t know how he's affecting me.

We let out screams and shouts as we go up and down, flying around on the track and I try to enjoy myself, I really do. Before long, it's over and Mitch reaches his hand out to help me up and I take it with silence.

“That was fun.” He smiles and I am really happy he ignored his moms protests and got that lip piercing. It suits him.

“Yeah.” Is all I can muster and he gives me a look before walking towards the next ride.

Luckily as we enter this ride, there’s more room. Only our knees touch as we buckle in the seatbelt and I feel myself being able to breathe better.

“Good thing we didn’t eat before getting on here.” I laugh as the lights start to flash.

He snorts and nods. “Robin would have blown chunks either way.”

The ride is a simple circular track with small hills. All it does is follow the path and goes around pretty fast. Simple but a classic. The music begins and soon we feel the cart shift. I'm sitting on the right while Mitch is on the left, next to the exit and he wiggles off his black beanie just for good measure. His light brown hair, slightly damaged from dying it black back in freshman year, is ruffled from hat hair and my god is it cute.

“Fucking love this ride.” Mitch smiles and it begins to pick up the pace.

Soon, we are at full speed, which is fine. Perfectly fine. Except for the fact that the gravity from the ride is pulling me towards Mitch and no matter how tight I hold on, I end up smacked against him. Shoulders touching and I can clearly smell his cologne. It's the scent of sandalwood and campfire and my god does it smell heavenly. Men just smell like nature and I am more than okay with that.

But Mitch doesn’t mind, because why would he? Instead he's laughing and truly enjoying the ride. I smile and laugh too because honestly, it's just fun to spend time with him. The ride is over faster than I wanted and we hop off, slightly dizzy and I walk a little out of line but he catches my arm and pulls me to him.

“Easy dude.” He chuckles and I nudge him playfully and ruffle his hair before he plops on his beanie. Goodbye cute hat hair.

All of a sudden, my shoulder is hit. It was a pretty hard smack and my body jolted to the side as Mitch grabbed me from falling.

“Look a bunch of homos.” I look up and realize that it's some assholes from our school.

Duke Jones and Mark Dalton. Some of the few people who actually try to be douchebags on the regular.

My eyes do heavy eye rolls and I want to scream at them but I've never been a confronting person. My voice is in my throat but Mitch takes a step forward, his hand never leaving my arm.

“And what of it? Really dudes? You think some lame insult is gonna hurt our feelings. You’re lucky I don’t just kick your ass, better enough I can call Buttercup in a second and have your bodies all the way across this place. Grow the fuck up and maybe don’t choke on your toxic masculanity.” He sneered and sometimes I forget that Mitch can be pretty intimidating.

Their eyes widened as Mitch pulled out his phone to show BC’s number. They mutter something before turning and rushing off in a hurry.

“You okay?” He asks me.

“Yeah.” I say. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

“It's not a big deal.”

But it is. It's not a secret that I'm out and proud. Yeah its cool and all to not have to be closeted, even Princess came out last year so its nice to know that someone higher up won’t pick on me, but even then, it sucks. No matter where I go in life, someone will be there with a flame thrower of slurs or anger for something I didn’t choose. As for Mitch, theres something about him being called gay and him not having a hissy fit about it that makes me feel safe. Uhh fuck.

I take a second to recollect myself and Mitch just pulls me from the herds of eyes that saw that fiasco.

“Lets go here.” He points to the hall of mirrors and for some reason it's beginning to get extremely hard to be around him.

But I take a deep breath and push those feelings to the side once again.

The hall of mirrors was by far the lamest thing the fair could have done. Sure, as a little kid it was cool and slightly scary but now, all of our heads could see just above the tips of the mirrors making it lose the effect. It probably would have been more fun if the others were there. Butch would hide behind the mirros trying to scare us before Buttercup sent some lasers his way causing them to bounce everywhere and making us duck and cover. Good times. However, it was just Mitch and me.

While Mitch was walking, I couldn’t stop thinking about those jerks just now. Of course everyone already knew about my preference but Mitch seemed unbothered by being referred to as gay. Probably because he's not some asshole that thinks it's a bad thing, I mean if he did, why would he be friends with me for all this time? He’s just a good person, that's all.

Not to sound like the coming of age kid, but I knew I was into dudes before I could comprehend the idea of love or romance, I just thought they were pretty to look at. Moving to a new city at such a young age was hard for me, not to mention the whole invisible friend that tried to kill everyone. But after everything was said and done, I did in fact make some friends.

The famous superheroes had become my pals and when Buttercup introduced me to Mitch, I think that's when it all went downhill. We became the dynamic duo and everyone always paired us as the best friends, which is true but...it makes me feel guilty.

He turned a corner and I stopped walking. All of a sudden I was lost and staring at a mirror. Just me in my beat up sneakers and the uncertain face I seem to be wearing a lot lately. There's always a time in your life where you stop and contemplate everything, question all your decisions and how nothing truly matters.

“Hey you stopped walking?” Mitch said to me and I looked at him with a shaky smile.

“Sorry. Lost in thought I guess.”

“Care to share?” He asked and leaned against one of the mirrors.

I laughed to myself thinking about what I could possibly say. “Yeah sure Mitch, why don’t I just tell you that I’m in love with you and how it pains me to wake up to know that you will only see me as just a friend. Why don’t I just rip out my heart and put it on a silver platter for you to squash or just confess and kiss you here, ignoring all the states and hopefully pissing off some people?”

“...What?”

My eyes shot open and my eyes met his. He looked at me with confusion and shock. His mouth hung open slightly and it took me a solid three seconds to relaize that my dumb ass had just blurted that all out.

Panic. That's all I could feel as he stared like a deer caught in headlights. I could feel myself on the verge of tears and suddenly the air was too thick as I turned and ran, not caring about the employee telling me I was going the wrong way.

Mitch’s voice echoed behind me but I couldn’t stand to turn and look towards him. To hear the pure rejection and probably the disgust. Throwing away years of friendship for some stupid feelings? What was I thinking?

After nearly hitting my head several times, I made it out and ignored the weird stares and glances people were giving me. All I wanted to do was find Butch and get out of here and hope that I can just pack up and move away for college. Maybe even change my name.

Instead I found myself pushing my way into the bathroom stall and biting my arm to stifle my sobs. I felt like my heart was about to shatter, that all my nightmares where coming true all thanks to my stupid mouth. I was a fool to think that someone like him would even consider me as something more, a complete and utter fool.

“Mike?” A voice called and of course the sneakers peaking outside the stall belonged to Butch.

“What?” I spat bitterly. “Go away.”

I barely heard his sigh. “Dude, I don’t know what happened but suddenly Buttercup saw you burst into here. Really dude, is everything fine? At least come out and talk to us. Plus it smells really bad in here and there's a line of dudes.”

There's some truth to the matter and I wiped my face and pushed open the stall with a little too much force but luckily he grabbed it and just nodded towards the exit.

Robin and Buttercup are standing outside and luckily, I don’t see Mitch.

“Wanna explain what happened?” Robin asks as she hands me a tissue from her purse.

“No. I just wanna go home.”

Buttercup looks arounds then back to me. “Where's Mitch.”

“Probably somewhere and never wants to see me again.” I mumble.

“What?” She asks and looks towards Butch then back to me.

Butch raised his brow. “Mike, did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Buttercup asked.

It was at that moment that Buttercup didn’t know that I was practically in love with her best friend. Maybe Robin and Butch planned this together but it didn’t matter, not anymore. I would be losing two friends after this. Great.

“Look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” My throat is dry and it hurts and there's no doubt that my face is red and flushed with tears. “I'm just gonna call my mom to come get me.”

“Come on Mike don’t go.” Robin asked and she padded my arm.

“You don’t get it, Robin.” I spat. “You don’t understand what I just did. Thanks to someone’s dumb idea, I now lost my best friend. And for what? Did we really think he would like me back? That he could even see me in such a way? I don’t even know if he’s gay or let alone into dudes. But who gives fuck? I don’t.”

Butch took a step towards me but my anger only rose. “C’mon Mike I'm sure-”

“This was a stupid idea Butch!” I yelled and at that moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was embarrassed and hurt. “I just want to be alone.” I pushed past him and the others, ignoring everything they were saying because it didn’t matter any more.

It didn’t matter that my friends tried to help something that shouldn’t have even been considered. It was just a stupid crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully by the new semester, it would be gone and out of my system…. hopefully. A stupid crush that I’d been harboring for years and titling on a scale of something more.

It wasn’t long until my tears dried and I found myself among the section of carnival games. All of the rigged and hard to win and if you did win, it would be a small sappy prize that you would toss into a garbage bag or try to sell for a nickel at a garage sale.

There were darts and guessing the weight of a small pig. The basketball tossing and hitting the giant hammer looked tempting but instead I walked to the game that no one had ever won. Ring toss. A game of chance and so incredibly rigged, it's a miracle if one prize is won in a year.

Without a second thought, I gave up a fresh twenty dollar bill and the girl working, who clearly hated her job, handed me the biggest bucket of rings. Enough to keep me entertained until I call my mom or muster up enough courage to ask Butch for a ride back like a dog with its tail inbetween its legs.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could be okay with this. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that the boy I had a crush on, one of my best friends, would like me back, or even be into dudes for that matter. But no, instead of having my secret crush kept, ya know, a secret, the one person who shouldn’t know, did.

I tossed another ring into the sea of bottles, the high pitched clinking echoed for just a moment as another was tossed. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe trying to figure out feelings was a waste of time because in all honesty, I never knew.

Like the plastic rings people pay way too much for, you jump and you think you’ll land on that bottle, secure the prize and show everyone up. Prove that you can do the impossible.

But then you miss and reality comes back. The bucket dwindles down and soon you’re left with nothing but regret for trying and shorting eight bucks.

“Hey.”

I turned, of course he would follow me. Why wouldn’t he? He was probably here just to tell me to let it go and sweep it under the rug, and say it's not weird when it totally is. Or he was going to come out and say that maybe our friendship has come to its expiration date.

“Oh. Hey.” I threw another one, missing again.

I tried not to care as he stood next to me but I passed him the bucket and he took his own shot, missing, just like me.

“Have you been crying?” He asked and there was no way around it.

“Yep.” I popped the p and threw another ring. “Look Mitch, I’m sorry what I said-”

“Don’t be.”.

“Most guys would just push someone like me away if that happened.”

He hummed and tossed a ring, missing. “Well, I’m not like most guys and I thought that was pretty clear. Especially after those jerks. I value your friendship too much to get worried or upset.”

I looked over at him, and that in itself was a mistake, because it would be just my luck that the other carnival games with their bright flashing lights would surround him and make it seem like he was glowing. The lights soften his features, a small twinkle on the black orb of his earring and making those very so light freckles appear.

Almost like a painting hung up in a museum. You think the trip is boring, and for the most part it is. A few interesting things here and there but just as you are about to leave, you find a room you hadn’t explored. It could be nothing and you could leave, forgetting everything in the last three hours and moving on with your life.

Or it could be life changing. As if when you walked in there, the most captivating painting was on that wall and you wonder how you skipped it in the first place. You stare at it, taking in the picture itself and the meaning. Stepping closer and looking at the paint strokes, the time taken to make this is clear and it's full of questions and mystery. The small plaque on the wall fails to answer.

He picked up the last ring. It twirled in his fingertips unsure of where to go.

“I kept thinking, you know.” He said. “I remember watching a show, a random cartoon and an ad for a pride festival popped up. I thought nothing of it, didn’t know what it meant at the time but my father did. He was outraged and changed the channel, screamed and shouted saying that if his son ever was caught doing something like that…” Mitch paused and closed his palm.

I could see the hurt in his eyes as he sighed.

“Then he would have no son. So when I found out what it all meant and learned about myself....I thought it would be best to never act on it. No matter how much I wanted to look towards another guy, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry Mitch, I didn’t know.” And it was the truth. I wanted to mentally slap myself for not realizing that he was, in fact, gay as well. Way to go Mike, your gay-dar is broken. But then again, you can’t just tell a sexuality clear as day. I can’t blame him for hiding it, after everything with his dad.

He sighed again. “But when you told me that. Told me you wanted me, I think I started to realize that I would rather have something I want no matter what others think of me. I envy how you can just come out and be proud, as you should, but I wish I was that brave instead of a coward.”

“Mitch.” I slid my hand on top of his cautiously. He didn’t flinch or have any indication of pulling away. “I’m scared every day. Scared that someone might yell something offensive or even try to hurt me. Just like those assholes did earlier.But I can’t stop those things from happening but I can choose to not let them affect me. It's hard but you know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Plus your best friend is an actual superhero.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to date such a fuck up like me.”

Fuck up? Did this boy really think that?

“I would never see you as that.” I said honestly. “It's normal for us to have conflicting feelings when someone in our life isn't supportive. It's never gonna be a walk in the park or smooth sailing but when you're with someone who cares about you, it makes it easier.”

He sighed for the hundredth time. It was clear the gears in his mind were running at full steam and he looked at the ring in his hand then to the bottles.

“I guess you’re right Mike. I guess I was thrown off that the dude I've liked since kindergarten likes me back.” He looked towards me and tossed the ring, not bothering to pay attention. “I just hope you haven't changed you mind-”

The next thing I know, my hand is tugging on his worn leather collar and his lips are pressed to mine.

I never thought that my first kiss would be as enchanting as this. You always think it's magical and fulfilling but in reality it's probably a mess of lips that don’t move quite as well and somehow there's a tongue doing whatever it wants. I guess I can’t count this as my first kiss because Robin had peaked me on the lips in third grade, also giving me the clear sexual awakening of how I never want another woman to come near me again, but this was different.

He tasted like cotton candy which I should find gross and oddly weird but I didn’t mind one bit. At the beginning there was a bit of hesitation, or maybe he was caught off guard since I did interrupt him but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid hormones. He wasted no time kissing me back and I even felt a hand on my waist pulling towards him. Although it lasted only a few mere seconds, it was like a lifetime of waiting had lifted.

When we pulled apart, loud speakers and alarms went off above us. I looked towards the game, I noticed one single plastic ring was stuck on the bottle. The worker smiled at us before nodding.

“Wow, I can’t believe you made it, especially without looking.” She said and I looked to Mitch who just shrugged.

“What? You kissed me, I just threw it.” He smiled brightly and I hugged him.

“So what will it be?” I asked him and he turned towards the prizes.

“Well, what about that dinosaur?”

“I love dinosaurs.”

Mitch smiled. “I know.”

The worker used a ladder to climb and retrieve the massive blue dinosaur prize. As a kid, i used to dream of winning such a cool thing but know, I think I got something better. Mitch handed it to me with a blush and I looked at it with just as much pink on my cheeks.

“Ya know.” Mitch started. “I have enough tickets for one last ride. Maybe the ferris wheel?”

“That sounds good.” He reached out his hand and I took it. Before I could blink, I felt his lips press against my cheek.

“I don’t like to see you cry.” He said.

I simply hummed and we walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel before deciding to give the prize to some kids. He handed the tickets to the worker as we climbed into the cart and began to go up. He threw his arm over my shoulder like he did on the rollercoaster, but this time, I leaned against him and let those emotions I tried to keep at bay, run wild.

“I’m really glad Butch dragged me here.” I said honestly and Mitch only laughed and silenced me with his lips pressed against mine.

“Me too.”

When we pulled apart, a few questions still lingered in my mind.

“You mean, you’ve liked me this entire time? And you knew I was gay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a secret, the last part at least.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's had since he was little. “I mean I wasn’t hundred percent sure, I thought maybe it was a one time thing or just happened occasionally. But as we got older, more specifically high school, I think that's when it hit me.” He sighed. “All I knew was that I wanted to be with you until my heart stopped racing.”

His eyes met mine. I’ve always hated when people didn’t see the beauty in brown eyes. They think they are dull and lifeless, only one hue but that's far from the truth. Mitch’s eyes had spots of gold and a slight tint of green, breathtaking to say the least.

“I mean it’s a shame we spent our high school years just as friends.” My hand went on top of his. “But I’d rather have you as my friend instead of losing you so I understand. But what about your dad? Will be okay with us dating-or well I assume we should-”

“I don’t care about his opinion of us. Plus we would be idiots not to date at this point. If he doesn’t accept. That's his loss not mine.” His gaze went to the sky where a firework exploded.

The colors lit up in the sky and we realized we got lucky as our cart stopped at the very top. It felt unreal to be sitting next to my best friend and now, boyfriend. There's always moments in your life that you feel like were meant to be. Maybe it's the career you chose or the person you marry. Milestones that are already set in stone and fate just happens to bring you together, all that stuff. And as I looked at him through heavy lashes I thought that maybe, just maybe, the stars aligned on this one.

That or I would have to admit that Butch is the king of romance, even though he did literally nothing today and this was all me. Either way, Mikey boy’s got a man.

I hope you enjoyed love!!

#Mitch x mike #mike x Mitch ppg #ppg #ppg fic #fanfic commissions

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douglashonorscollege · 3 years

Text

Burn the House Down

essay by Olivia McDougall ⌂

IT WAS 2006 in the heart of New York City. The New York Knicks failed to make the play-offs for the third consecutive year. President George W. Bush’s approval rating had hit at an all-time low. Panic! at the Disco released “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” and Justin Timberlake performed “SexyBack” on the MTV Video Music Awards—hosted by Jack Black—at Radio City Music Hall. For the American people, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times… and three young kids were out pursuing their dream in the streets of Manhattan.

Adam, Ryan, and Jack Metzger were trying their hand at busking in Central Park and Washington Square. The youngest at nine years old, Jack led vocals while his older brothers backed him with instrumentals. The boys played covers of songs old and new, anything to get enough money for new instruments with which to experiment. The brothers spent many years on street corners serenading strangers, earning their 10,000 hours. In the following years, when YouTube started gaining traction, the boys put up videos of their covers: more and more inventive spins on pop songs. Jack and Ryan also started trying their hand at writing, directing, and acting in their own little sketches for video content. At that time, the boys had very few followers, but nonetheless continued to play, to save up, to buy more equipment, to make more music.

As they grew, the boys were exposed to their parents’ old records and the sounds of a very different generation influenced their style. The Beach Boys; the Beatles; Peter, Paul, and Mary among many others inspired them, but more contemporary artists like Kanye West also came into play. Later, while eldest brother Adam pursued his degree at Columbia University, the younger two brothers took note of sampling—the music trend of artists taking sound clips and reusing them in their songs. Jack mentioned to his brotherhow cool it would be if someone sampled Spongebob Squarepants on a track.

“Well, why don’t we do it?” was Ryan’s reply.

In spring of 2013, the brothers, naming themselves AJR after their own initials, released a video of their first single “I’m Ready.” The song sampled the popular Spongebob catchphrase, and became a classic, upbeat, dance-floor pop song. The brothers sent the link to their video to several celebrities over Twitter, until famous singer-songwriter Sia noticed them and passed it along to her manager. The song was then commercially released that summer and began to see regular radio play, and the band was labeled as the next up and comers in the music scene.

After “I’m Ready,” AJR released a five song EP of the same name. Their first song continued to grow, receiving millions of views on YouTube and going platinum in Canada and Australia. The brothers continued to create music (and go to school; the eldest was only in his early twenties at this time), releasing another single and EP titled Infinity in 2014. The majority of the band’s music was pop songs, easy to listen to with familiar rhythms and lyrics of love and youth. Remarkably, the boys chose to mix and record all their own music in their NYC apartment living room, instead of paying for studio time. Paying homage to their workspace and independence, the band released their first album Living Room in 2015. Except for some bouncier, odd-duck tracks like “Big Idea” and “Thirsty,” most of the songs fit the same earlier patterns of the pop genre. However, in 2016, the band experienced the shift that would change their music career forever.

Before the What Everyone’s Thinking EP came out, AJR had little recognition beyond their break-out hit. However, the tracks on the latest EP sounded entirely evolved from the brother’s previous style. The lyrics were brimmed with honesty, abandoning the emptiness of many other pop tunes. The boys sang about missing out on their friends while pursuing their dreams, about being unsure about what love means, about not trying so hard to be cool, about being human. Their style of composition had also matured. The band would release videos on how they made their songs, revealing that they took whatever strange sound they could make and mix it however they could to make it new and interesting. They had people who were not musicians or artists, such as their ever supportive father, come in and sing to add a new dimension to their songs. They used something they called “spokestep,” a technique of recording a someone singing, then cutting it up over a beat in editing. They continued to utilize sampling, taking bits of anything from Fountains of Wayne to yodeling competitions. The EP was well-received with hundreds of messages from fans who deeply related to the music. This was all the push the brothers needed to keep writing freely, and not what they thought would sell.

On June 9th, 2017, the three brothers dropped the album that would unknowingly launch their music career to a unimaginable level. Several songs on the album made it to regular radio play, giving the band more recognition and growing their dedicated fan base. The Click clearly communicated AJR’s desire to get real in their music, with songs about the detached feelings of growing up or distaste toward the typical party scene. One of their most successful songs, “Sober Up,” featured Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo and paved the way for more collaborations with artists such as Steve Aoki and Lil Yachty. The band had been on tours before, playing small venues where the opener drew more fans than they, but now they began to sell out everywhere. The kids who had been playing to no one on street corners now began to sing for thousands.

Shortly after their album The Click debuted, AJR announced that they had been asked to create the theme for Supersize Me 2: Holy Chicken, a documentary attempting to expose the fast food industry’s lax safety regulations. The band had been asked to write for other people before, but never for a movie. The theme song, “Burn the House Down,” would live to surpass its original purpose and become the honest encapsulation of the political attitudes of its time. “Burn the House Down” expresses the band’s indecision to either “keep things light” or to get involved in important issues. The song, with compelling lyrics such as “Or should I march with every stranger from Twitter to get shit done? / Used to hang my head low / Now I hear it loud / Every stranger from Twitter is gonna burn this down” further cemented the band’s dedication to revolution and their abandonment of passivity. The song called out deception plaguing the media cycle and public affairs, and the need to burn it all down in order to expose the truth.

* * *

The election of Donald Trump in 2016 acted as a catalyst for various protest movements around the country. Marches have occurred on the White House doorstep since the signing of the Constitution, but the Trump administration triggered a marked influx. Beyond Washington, protests like the Women’s March and National Pride March were seen nation-wide. People from all over rallied together to advocate for science and evidenced-based policies, for immigrant’s rights and racial justice, for transparency over Russian involvement in elections, and even for the publication of Trump’s tax returns. People, especially those liberal-leaning, felt that their voices weren’t being heard and that the President was not reflective of their values. Change in politics is gradual and incremental, but it felt like everyday a new injustice was being thrown at the American people. Families were being separated at the border, more evidence that Russia swayed the 2016 election came to light, allegations of sexual abuse from the President were revealed, racism, sexism, and hate seem to run rampant and unchecked, and overall many people felt disheartened and disgusted with the state of the nation. So, with the power of social media, users of popular sites such as Facebook and Twitter planned protests. The marches drew thousands of people together, uniting many for a common cause. Today’s youth, often labeled as lazy and entitled, came together in the March for Our Lives, an empowering result from one of many tragic school shootings. High-schoolers fed up with feeling unsafe on their campuses advocated for stricter gun control laws and led the biggest youth rally since the Vietnam War, to the tune of hundreds of thousands of people. Americans refused to take anything sitting down and demonstrated their needs loudly to those in charge.

The effectiveness of these protests is a tricky one to determine, as many perceived different goals for the marches. Some believe getting people out on the streets and building a community of like-minded people is a strong start, but others think success is nothing less than immediate change and tangible evidence that they have been heard. Further, some argue that current protests lack the solid political backing that are required to enact true change, and that the marches will never be as powerful as they mean to be without that factor. However, even though many of the things modern protests have demanded have yet to come to fruition, it does not necessarily mean the marches have been for naught. Many of the marches throughout history that today are viewed as world-shattering did not see the change they were fighting for immediately. Politics take time, and the justice and change in policies the people demand to see might still be a long time coming. However, it is necessary to take up the fight, for the people to demonstrate that enough is enough.

Protest songs in the past like “Fortunate Son” by Credence Clearwater Revival or “The Times They are A-Changin” by Bob Dylan rallied people for their cause, stoking the flames of change in hearts across the nation. Music was a way for artists to contribute to the fight, giving a voice to those silenced and reflecting the opinions of the oppressed or wronged. Protest songs today have the same effect, uniting thousands to sing in one voice and empowering movements. “Burn the House Down” provides a battlecry for a whole new generation of people. It is a warning of accountability for those in the corrupt establishment; the harbingers will burn it down.

Works Cited “Burn the House Down” Music Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnyLfqpyi94 AJR Zach Sang Interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQnXGsKwaIU&t=1725 Recent Marches Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_rallies_and_protest_marches_in_Washington,_D.C.#2018 Supersize Me 2 Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Super_Size_Me_2:_Holy_Chicken! Article on political protests, bustle.com: https://www.bustle.com/p/do-political-protests-actually-change-anything-29952 2006 NYC Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:2006_in_New_York_City AJR Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AJR_(band) One of AJR’s “How We Made THE CLICK” Vidoes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YWj3DAo6xM ∎

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

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For @theladyandthewolves because my inbox noped your ask/prompt out of nowhere for some reason.

❛ please … i have money , just let me go . ❜

Stiles didn’t go to a bar that night expecting to be kidnapped.

He had struggled through an entire day of classes and Scott had promised to take him out afterward if he didn’t kill himself first. But then Allison texted and… well, Allison. That’s all that needed to be said about that subject.

Stiles hadn’t gone to a bar that night expecting to be kidnapped, but he really should’ve. Things like that always seemed to happen to him these days.

After his day of craptastic college classes, he just wanted to drink his sorrows away and unwind. And things were going great until the bartenders switched out and the woman opposite him took one look his way and proceeded to go all serial-killery.

Stiles had been nursing his rum and coke for about an hour now, so it wasn’t a refill he was looking for when she practically zoomed over. The woman had dark brown hair and sharp green eyes, and she looked a little scary if Stiles was being honest. He really didn’t want to make conversation.

She didn’t give him the opportunity to say no.

“Well,” the woman said, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning toward him. “What do we have here?”

Stiles arched a brow and chuckled nervously. “Um, hello?”

“You don’t look twenty-one, sweetie.”

A lump formed in his throat and Stiles fished out his wallet, showing his ID. It was fake, but it well done, and he’d never been caught before. Even if Scott did like to say he still had the face of a high schooler.

The woman looked over it and Stiles could tell she wasn’t impressed. But to his surprise, she didn’t kick him out, just passed the ID back over. Her smile was even sharper this time.

“Well, Mie—”

“Stiles,” Stiles said, cutting her off before she could even attempt to butcher his real name. “Everyone just calls me Stiles.”

“Stiles,” the woman said, eyes glittering. “What are you doing here, Stiles?”

That was not the type of question he’d been expecting. Stiles cast an eye around the bar, noticing nervously how empty it really was, and chuckled. If she decided to murder him, would anyone see? Someone would have to see. But surely she wouldn’t murder him. That’d be bad for buisness.

“Uh,” he said, wetting his lips. “Getting a drink?”

“Is that all?”

Stiles really didn’t know how to answer that, so he just stayed quiet. The woman’s smile turned darker.

Before he could react, she was taking his drink and turning away. Stiles made a surprised noise of protest but the woman just waved a hand over her shoulder, grabbing a few bottles and filling it from an angle so Stiles couldn’t quite see his glass.

“It’s just a refill, sweetie. On the house.”

Stiles’s heart was thudding nervously against his chest when she turned back and pushed it over the counter toward him. It looked like rum and coke but he still didn’t think he wanted to drink it. Except, from the look in the woman’s eyes, he was terrified she might rip his throat out if he didn’t.

So, putting on a grin, Stiles lifted the glass to his lips and took a drink. The woman watched and Stiles drank until the glass was half-gone. Then he set it down again.

“Thanks for that,” he said, starting to push himself up. “But I really should be going.”

“Already?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got classes tomorrow and— Woah.”

The room was suddenly spinning and Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet, grabbing onto the counter for support. He felt like he’d done a lot more than drink a little bit of rum and as the room continued to spin, all he could do was sink back onto the barstool again.

His mouth felt weird. Like cotton.

The woman had moved around the counter and Stiles blinked as she approached him. Fingers danced along his shoulder and panic started to build up in his throat. Stiles tried to say something— or maybe scream for help, but his mouth wasn’t moving. All that came out was an intelligent ‘hrrrrgh’ noise that made her smile.

Drugged, Stiles realized. He’d been drugged.

His dad was going to kill him.

“It’s alright,” the woman said, and Stiles could’ve sworn her saw sharp teeth when she smiled. “You’re just going to answer a few questions.”

He didn’t know what the hell that meant. But before he had a chance to protest, he was sliding sideways off the stool, surprisingly strong hands were catching him, and Stiles hear a whisper of other words before all he knew was black.

- -

Derek didn’t expect to come back to his apartment that night and find a boy tied up in a chair in the middle of the room. In fact, he didn’t expect to come back to his apartment and find that. Ever.

For a moment, he just stood there. His keys dangled from his fingers and he was pretty sure his mouth had dropped open. The boy was clearly unconscious, heart beating slowly and a thin line of drool running down his chin. His wrists were bound to each of the chair’s arms and he didn’t look any older than twenty. Or maybe he was even younger than eighteen. Derek couldn’t quite tell.

Derek stared for a moment longer and then snapped back to reality as Laura came strolling out of the kitchen, wiping her hands off on a dishcloth. She was smiling and raised an eyebrow as her eyes snapped from Derek, to the boy, and then back. Something mischievous danced in her eyes.

“Hey there, little bro. Have a good day off?”

“Laura, what the hell is this.”

“This?”

“That,” Derek said, gesturing in frustration at the boy. “It, him, whatever. Why the hell is there a teenager tied up in our living room?”

“Oh,” Laura said, smirking. She settled down on the couch and rested her chin on her hands, eyeing the kid. “His name is Stiles. I think he goes to Beacon Community College.”

None of that information did Derek any good. He stared at her for a long moment, not quite sure Laura hadn’t completely lost her mind.

“Laura,” Derek said carefully. “Why have you kidnapped and tied up a college student?”

“Smell him.”

Derek blinked. That had not been what he’d expected to hear. “What.”

“Smell him, Der. Just do it.”

Derek gave his sister a long look before moving toward the kid. If this was her idea of a joke, then he was definitely moving out. Except, when Derek leaned closer and took a deep whiff, he was yanking back in the second. The kid smelled the cinnamon and autumn leaves, and all of that was fine. But he also smelled like electricity. Electricity and the unmistakable scent of a strange Alpha.

“What is he,” Derek said in a growl. Laura smiled all teeth.

“Human.”

“But he smells—”

“Spark, maybe,” she amended. “One with an Alpha.”

“How’d you come across him?”

“He came into our bar.”

Derek felt his hackles rise and glanced back at the boy. His heartbeat was picking up a little and Derek could tell he was on the verge of waking up. Which could either be a good thing, or something very bad. “Laura, are you sure this is a good—”

Amber eyes snapped open and the kid made a noise between a squawk and a squeak.

This was a terrible idea.

“Oh my god!” Stiles said, trying to yank away. Except, he was firmly bound to the chair and Derek knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Clearly, the kid realized that too because his heartbeat picked up and his scent soured with fear.

Derek wrinkled his nose and took a step back. Stiles looked at him in terror.

“Are you going to kill me? Please don’t kill me. I have money! A little bit of money. Please, just let me go.”

Derek gave Laura a flat look and she grinned, pushing herself up and moving over. Stiles made another noise of panic and wiggled around in his chair.

“We’re not going to kill you,” Laura said. “As long as you answer our questions correctly.”

Derek resisted the urge to facepalm.

“Okay,” Stiles said, babbling. “Okay, okay, I can do that. I can answer questions correctly! I mean, as long as they’re not insanely hard questions. Like, I suck at math. But I’m really good at memorizing old and unimportant facts, so I’m pretty excellent in history. Are you going to ask me questions about history?”

This was such a terrible idea. Laura glanced over and her expression was nothing but amused. Derek wanted to say that this was all her fault.

Then she turned back toward Stiles and flashed her red eyes, and Derek flashed his blue ones. Stiles froze, heartbeat picking up in pace again, and Laura’s smile widened. For a moment, the kid just stared at them. And then he picked up in his struggles all over again.

“Oh my god, oh my god, why is it always me? Why am I always the one kidnapped? How is that even fair?”

“Stop struggling,” Derek said, crossing his arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“And why the hell do you care, Mr. Werewolf? You’re the one that kidnapped me! Probably to kill me or something even worse.”

“There’s something even worse?”

“I don’t know! This is like an every other week occurrence now!”

Derek’s eyebrows flew up and Laura looked intrigued. Stiles finally stopped struggling after a few more tries, slumping in his seat and going lax in submission. But when Laura stepped closer, he flinched a little.

Derek wasn’t sure why that bothered him.

“So,” Stiles said, voice small now. “What is it, huh? You want to know about Scott and his pack? Because I’ll die before I hand them over. I just hope you know that.”

And Laura stilled. She glanced back at Derek, but he didn’t have any words. Gently, she laid a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. He shivered. “I told you we’re not going to hurt you.”

“But you do want to know about Scott?” Stiles sounded bitter.

“We don’t even know who Scott is,” Derek said. “But you went into Laura’s bar smelling like another Alpha werewolf. Usually… that’s a warning of future conflict to come.”

Stiles looked at him in surprise. Then he glanced at Laura and tilted his head. “Laura, huh? Well, at least I get one of the names of my kidnappers before I die.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “I’m Laura and that’s my little brother, Derek. And he’s right. You should know better than to walk into a wolf’s territory smelling like another wolf.”

“Well I didn’t know you were a werewolf,” Stiles said in a grumble. “Although I guess that would make sense. You’re seriously scary. And strong.”

That startled a laugh out of his sister. Derek just narrowed his eyes and stared.

He didn’t know what to make of this kid.

“I seriously just wanted a drink,” Stiles said. “Guess it’s a good thing Scott didn’t come with me, though. Would that have started like, a pack war? Oh my god, would you have ripped our throats out?”

“Your Alpha would’ve realized I was a wolf,” Laura said. “But it wouldn’t have been good.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “He’s not my Alpha. I mean, not really. He’s my best friend and I’ve basically saved his werewolf ass a dozen times these past few years, but I’m kind of distanced from the supernatural stuff. I still get kidnapped, but that’s just life, you know?”

Derek stared at him. Because that wasn’t just life.

Laura seemed baffled too.

“So, can you cut me out of the ropes now?” Stiles asked, glancing between them. “Because scary brows was right and I think I did hurt myself just a little bit. You tied these things really tight.”

“Scary brows?” the words tumbled out of Derek’s mouth before he could stop them. Stiles looked at him with a smirk and shrugged.

“Dude, the eyebrows. Very scary. A little sexy. Probably shouldn’t be such a turn on.”

And Derek felt his face turn hot.

Laura choked on a laugh and leaned forward, slicing through the ropes with a claw. Stiles grinned, rubbing at his slightly red wrists. He pushed himself up and glanced around, before whistling appreciatively.

“Nice place you’ve got here. So running a bar comes with some perks, then?”

“Some,” Laura said, sounding amused. “Sorry for kidnapping you.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles said, waving a hand through the air. He started to wander around the apartment and Derek didn’t know how to react to that either, as he touched things that didn’t belong to him and even poked his head into the kitchen before coming out with a grin. “It happens a lot.”

“You do realize it shouldn’t,” Derek said, the words spilling out before he could stop them once more. “Right?’

Stiles arched a brow at him. “I mean, I guess?”

“You guess.”

“Come on, dude, squishy human here! When you smell like the werewolf that people seriously like to attempt to kill for some reason, it just makes sense. I’ve seen witches, warlocks, and a fair amount of hunters. I think they’re the worst.”

Derek stared at him. For some reason, he wanted to snarl at those words. But at the same time, he couldn’t wrap his head around Stiles and the words that he was saying.

“I mean, it’s usually fine,” Stiles said. “I’m not dead yet, so…��

Derek didn’t know what to say and what to do. From Laura’s face, she didn’t either. Stiles finished his self-tour of the apartment and glanced toward the door.

“So, am I allowed to leave then? This has been quite fun and all, but I’ve got classes tomorrow. And I, uh, haven’t studied for my Psych exam yet.”

Derek wasn’t sure why, but the idea of the kid leaving now that he had admitted all these things made Derek uncomfortable. Next to him, Laura seemed to be thinking the same thing. Because shewed on her lower lip for a second before shaking her head.

“No, sorry, you are kidnapped now. Consider this an intervention.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat. He froze in place and studied them both before chuckling nervously. “You’re joking, right? This is a joke. Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I’m not kidding,” Laura said. “Derek, grab more rope.”

Stiles’s eyes rounded and he took a step back, throwing up his hands. Derek hesitated, giving his sister a questioning look, and she raised an eyebrow. But then Stiles was babbling again.

“Okay, okay, okay, look,” he said. “It’s really not that big of a deal. You can’t kidnap a guy for getting kidnapped! That’s counterproductive! And my dad’s the Sheriff. He’d be severely pissed and probably throw both of you in jail.”

Laura huffed a laugh. Stiles slowly lowered his hands.

“You’re not really keeping me here, are you?”

“The Alpha’s not your Alpha,” Derek said through gritted teeth. “But you still get involved and get hurt.”

“Well, he is my best friend.”

“Some best friend.”

“I’m sorry, Sourwolf, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Derek blinked at the nickname. Laura looked like she was trying not to choke on a laugh again and Stiles crossed the room, poking a finger into Derek’s chest. He resisted the urge to snap at Stiles’s hand.

“Scotty would be dead a thousand times over if not for me. And don’t forget that I never ask to be kidnapped! If a bullseye on my back is what happens for protecting my best friend’s life, then I’ll take it. You don’t have the right to dictate my life!”

Derek glared at him. Laura quickly stepped forward.

“Fine,” she said, surprising them both. “You’ve made your decision, you can go. We’re not going to hold you back.”

Stiles looked suspiciously at her and slowly lowered his hand. He glanced back at Derek, then over at the door. “Really?”

“Really. Do you need a ride somewhere? We’re only a block down from the bar.”

Stiles eyed her again. Then he moved toward the door and placed one hand on the knob as if he expected her to suddenly change her mind. Derek didn’t know what the hell his sister was up to, but he really didn’t think Stiles should be walking out right now.

He also didn’t know why he cared. That was stupid. So stupid.

“Go ahead,” Laura said. Stiles twisted the knob and opened the door.

Derek could hear Stiles’s heartbeat pick up in pace as he placed one foot out into the hall, still watching them. Then he placed the other. He was half leaning into the apartment now and a small grin cracked across his face as he realized Laura was serious. His suspicious attitude melted away and he straightened.

“Well, thanks for the kidnapping then. This was fun, we should do it again! Except not. Because you both still scare me.”

Laura’s smile was all teeth and Derek just stood there. Stiles grinned at him, blowing a kiss, then the boy was stepping back, the door swung closed, and Derek blinked at it.

Then he rounded on his sister. But before he could get a word out, she lifted a finger.

Silence reigned for a moment. Laura waited for another few seconds and then sighed, dropping her hand. She started toward the kitchen and Derek chased after her.

“Laura, what the hell was tha—”

“I’m taking you off your shift tomorrow,” Laura said. “Also, Stiles’s jacket is in a heap next to the door. I trust that should be enough for you to find his scent again?”

Derek blinked at her. Laura smirked.

“If his Alpha best friend won’t keep an eye on him then we will.”

“You’re willing to do that for the kid.”

His sister shrugged and started making herself tea as if this as a normal everyday occurrence. Derek was pretty sure it wasn’t. But then again, he didn’t Stiles was a normal everyday occurrence.

“I like him,” Laura said. And that seemed to be that.

And… maybe it was.

Derek turned back to look at the door, along with the red hoodie that laid in a crumpled heap next to it, and he couldn’t believe this had become his evening. He hadn’t expected any of this. Ever.

But that seemed to be that.

- -

So, I didn’t mean for this to reach 3k words, but here we are. I had a lot of fun with the prompt! And honestly, I could see there being a pt2 or something. Which might have to happen at some point ;)

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #laura hale #prompts #theladyandthewolves #ficlet

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alphacrone · 4 years

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for it’s better to burn out than to fade out of sight (3/?)

rating: T pairings: Yuki & Tohru (platonic), Tohru/Kyo, Yuki/Machi, other canon pairings & friendships summary: In the end, it wasn’t sadness Yuki felt, when Tohru Honda had her memories erased. No, it was anger. And anger he could work with.

<< read previous chapter || read next chapter >>

iii. now my heart’s a frozen lake where streams used to flow

***

“Do you think wave-girl seduced him?”

Yuki paused at the mention of Hanajima. They were barely more than acquaintances, but Yuki didn’t like the tone the girls in the classroom were using. He leaned back against the wall and continued to listen.

“Ew, no way! But he seems close to that Honda girl…”

They were talking about Tohru? Yuki’s blood began to boil.

“How could someone so plain attract Prince Yuki like that! He deserves someone beautiful and utterly perfect .”

“Seriously. Do you think she...you know...with him?”

One of the girls gasped. “Don’t say something like that. The Prince wouldn’t do that with just anyone .”

Under his blind anger at these girls’ insults of Tohru, Yuki wondered just how they could make such assumptions about him . How could they know what would attract him? How could they know he wasn’t hooking up with anyone willing? Who were they to assume his own thoughts and feelings?

But...well, even if they didn’t have the right to think they knew him, how could they even begin to know him? Yuki was a creature of ice and snow, cold and hardened against the world. His heart was frozen solid, buried deep and far, far away from the light of day. He’d never let anyone close, really, only Hatsuharu on occasion.

And then, Tohru had appeared in his life. From the moment he’d found her in the woods, he knew what Prometheus felt gazing upon fire for the first time. Yuki wanted to steal this light for himself, keep her safe and far away from harm, but to be a Sohma was to be dangerous. It would be wise to leave her behind and retreat behind his walls, but Yuki was tired. He was tired of loneliness and tired of the cold, tired of watching the world pass by like a movie he couldn’t pause.

And Tohru was bright, and Tohru was warm, and Tohru was so unfailingly kind and loving, it made Yuki’s heart ache. What would happen to his heart of ice in the face of these new flames in his chest? Would he extinguish her light? Or would he thaw?

Yuki was a creature of snow and ice; would there be anything left of him when he melted?

***

Yuki wasn’t sure what he expected from Hanajima’s house when she invited him to study after school, but the normalcy of it did surprise him. He supposed it would be foolish to think she lived in some spooky, European mansion in the middle of the neighborhood, but against the backdrop of the average house she seemed more startling, like ink against a stark canvas.

“Hope you’re better at history than we are, Prince,” Uotani said, pushing hair from her face as they approached the front door. “I’m great at remembering formulas for math, but I can’t remember dates for shit.”

“Uo’s a math genius!” Tohru called over her shoulder, bouncing a little. “She can do really complicated equations in her head!”

“Eh, math’s just easy,” Uo said with a shrug. “Once you get how it works. Remembering dates and names for things that happened before I was born is confusing.”

Tohru blushed, but didn’t seem too embarrassed when she said, “I think it’s all confusing. But I like learning about the past. So many people have lived so many lives, it’s really interesting.”

Hanajima opened the front door and softly called, “I’m home.” The other girls parrotted her, and all three kicked off their shoes with a familiar ease. Yuki knelt down to remove his own as an older woman replied, “Welcome home!”

Uotani cast a grin at Tohru. “Well, if I’m a math genius, Tohru’s a home ec genius. Our girl can cook and sew like nobody’s business.”

“I kno-” Yuki caught himself before he could reveal he had, in fact, spent a few weeks eating Tohru’s cooking for every meal. “I see.”

“O-oh, it’s nothing,” Tohru sputtered, waving her hands around. Hanajima and Uo led them upstairs to Hanajima’s room, both smirking at Tohru as her face grew pink. “Cooking isn’t anything special like math.”

“I think it’s really special,” Yuki said honestly, readjusting his grip on his school bag. “I’m awful at cooking and cleaning. Most of my meals are take-out.” Of the three men in the house, only Kyo could cook, and he adamantly refused to cook for anyone but himself. After Shigure’s last attempt at cooking, he and Yuki had gone back to take-out and microwaveable meals.

Hanajima’s room was much like the rest of her house—unnervingly normal—but at least here there were touches of her darkness. The dark bedspread and curtains at least hinted at the macabre aesthetic of Kaibara High’s resident witch.

“O-oh, really?” Tohru said, sitting down at the small table across from the bed. “I’m sure you’re not awful.”

“Oh, no, I am,” Yuki laughed, sitting down next to her. “I burn everything.”

“Well, look at that,” Uotani teased, flopping down on Tohru’s other side. “Prince Yuki has a fault . Alert the fangirls, they’ll lose their shit.”

“All men are fallible,” Hanajima said evenly, dark eyes boring into Yuki. “To be perfect is to be inhuman.”

Yuki swallowed roughly. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I guarantee I am incredibly fallible.”

With a snort, Uotani pulled out her notebook and reached around Tohru’s to softly smack Yuki with it. “We’re just giving you a hard time, Yun-Yun.”

“Yun-Yun?” Nobody called him that, except for Kagura when she wanted something.

“Uh, yeah,” Uotani said with a shrug. “I bet that’s what Kyoko would’ve called you.”

“Who?”

“Kyoko,” Hanajima said softly. “Tohru’s mom.”

“Oh.” There was a thick pause. Technically, everyone knew now that Torhu was an orphan, but Yuki wasn’t sure how many people knew how recently her mother had died. “Was she...a fan of giving people nicknames?”

All three girls smiled. “Yes, she was,” Tohru said fondly. “She’s why Uo and Hana go by Uo and Hana.”

“And she would absolutely love to tease you,” Uo said. “A little pretty boy like you wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“She sounds...fun,” Yuki said.

“She was,” Uo agreed.

“Who’s this? I didn’t know you had more friends, Saki.”

Yuki turned to see a miniature Hanajima. Though his hair was short and his uniform that of the nearby middle school, the boy in the doorway looked exactly like his sister.

“Don’t be rude, Megumi,” Hanajima scolded lightly. “This is Yuki Sohma, our classmate. He’s going to use his status to gain us top academic scores.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, before Uotani laughed and said, “Prince Yuki is here to study with us.”

Tohru smiled at the boy. “Sohma, this is Megumi, Hana’s little brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuki offered, but Megumi said nothing as he studied Yuki’s face.

“You have an unusual energy,” Megumi eventually said, face impassive. “Shall we have snacks?”

“Go get some rice crackers, kid,” Uo said. “You can join us if you study too.”

“Do you need help, Megumi?” Tohru asked. “I can help make tea.”

“Grandmother is already making some for you,” Megumi said. “I’ll see if she has any rice crackers.” He stood and left without fanfare, leaving Yuki feeling more stressed than he had earlier. What a strange boy .

“Love that kid,” Uotani said with a chuckle. “He talks like a old man.”

“When I was staying here, he’d offer to read me bedtime stories,” Tohru said. “It was very sweet, but funny coming from a little boy.”

“He’s an odd one,” Hanajima agreed. “I’m not sure where he gets it from…”

Yuki and Uotani exchanged a bemused look. “Alright, history,” Uotani said. “Someone quiz me.”

“I will!” Tohru grabbed her flashcards and held one up for Uotani. Yuki opened his own notes and tried to focus on them, but was quickly interrupted by Megumi returning with snacks and tea. The girls all cooed over him and told him to join them, so he silently squeezed in between his sister and Yuki, making no real effort to study as the high schoolers returned to their work.

“So, uh, Megumi,” Yuki said after a few minutes of Tohru and Uotani’s excited flashcard quizzing. “Do you also, uh...see waves?”

Megumi raised an eyebrow, but his expression did not change. “No. Saki controls waves.”

“Ah.” Yuki cleared his throat, unsure if he should continue talking.

“I, however, have studied the ancient art of curses,” Megumi continued, voice high and monotone. “All I need to curse a victim is their name.”

Yuki wondered if that was supposed to be a threat. Not that it mattered; he was already cursed.

“What do your curses do?” He asked, resting his hand in his palm. He glanced to the right, but Tohru was thoroughly absorbed in her flashcards, cheering every time Uotani got an answer correct.

“It depends,” Megumi said, not breaking eye contact. “Sometimes it renders the victim ill or in pain. Sometimes it causes them bad luck. Sometimes it makes them the target of negative energies.”

“What about...transformations?” Yuki asked, tapping his pencil against the table. “Can you curse someone to turn into an animal?”

“What, like a toad?” The boy looked unimpressed. “I’m not a witch.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you were,” Yuki backpedaled, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s just...an interesting concept, don’t you think?”

Megumi tilted his head. “I suppose. To trap an enemy in a foreign vessel is a cruel torture.”

“But you’ve never…?”

“No.” Yuki felt his heart drop. “But it is a curious idea.”

It had been foolish to put any sort of expectations in this child Yuki had known for less than an hour. But just having someone outside his own family discuss curses so casually had sparked hope deep inside him.

Could there be others like him out there? Could this curse be broken? Could this curse be inflicted on someone else, a new family of unwitting monsters?

“Sohma!”

Tohru’s voice broke Yuki from his spiralling thoughts. She was smiling—she was always smiling—and pointed to one of her flashcards. “Can you help us with this one? The textbook gives two different dates for this, and we don’t know which is correct.”

Yuki took a deep breath and nodded, scooting over to look at the flashcards. He supposed it didn’t matter, really, if Megumi held the truth to his...hereditary affliction. For now, it was enough to sit by Tohru Honda and bask in her warmth.

***

Classes were over but Yuki had promised to help the class president with some budgeting, so he bid Tohru, Hanajima, and Uotani goodbye and headed towards the student council room, already dreading Takei-senpai’s overbearing nature.

As he crossed the walkway overlooking the school gate, Yuki noticed Tohru and Hanajima waving Uotani off as she sprinted off to get to her job on time. Tohru was laughing, swinging Hanajima’s hand as they meandered down the stairs at a slower pace. Yuki couldn’t help but smile at the scene, watching his friends—friends?—look so happy and carefree.

He turned to continue his return to the classroom when he noticed a boy standing a few yards away, eyes trained where Yuki’s had just been.

The kid was dark-haired and slouched against the wall, a couple file folders clutched loosely in his hand. He frowned, still watching Tohru and Hanajima. Yuki glanced at the girls again, noticing that Hanajima had separated from Tohru and Tohru now walked alone. Still, the boy’s gaze followed her, frown increasing, turning almost vicious.

It was that angry frown, Yuki would later claim, that spurred him into action. Crossing the walkway quickly and silently, Yuki dipped between the boy’s line of sight and Tohru, blocking her from view. The boy startled, blinking in surprise.

“Leave Tohru Honda alone,” Yuki hissed. “Whatever you want with her, drop it.”

The guy held his hands up. “Hey, hey, calm down, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were watching her,” Yuki said, poking the boy in the chest angrily. “Leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t planning on starting shit,” the boy said. “Seriously, calm down, I’m not gonna hit on your girlfriend.”

“She’s not- Just- What do you want with her?” Yuki crossed his arm over his chest, face growing warm.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” the guy said with a smirk. “But she and I have a past.” He shouldered past Yuki, turning to add, “Don’t worry about it, Yuki Sohma. I’m not gonna talk to her.”

Before Yuki could respond, he winked and sauntered away, waving as if they’d just had a normal, casual conversation. Yuki sighed and glanced back out to where Tohru had been. She was gone, predictably, but a small part of him felt disappointed by her absence.

You’ll see her tomorrow , a small voice told him. This isn’t like before. She’s still here.

Yuki couldn’t stop the chill that ran down his spine. She was still here, for now. And Yuki would do whatever it took to keep her there, away from the clutches of the Sohma family and its curse.

#fruits basket fanfiction #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket #furuba manga spoilers #yuki & tohru #anna writes things #x-posting from ao3

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andiandyandee · 4 years

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We Are Going to Be Friends Pt. 2

Yeah I know I literally just posted the first part don’t worry about it.

Words: 1333

Tag List: @princemesscharming @datfearlessfangirl @cas-is-a-hunter (i haven’t tagged you in the last few but you did ask to be tagged in the original. Let me know if you want to stay on the tag list, I don’t mind either way.) @illogicalthinking Let me know if you want tagged!

The Series on Ao3 | Last Words: Pt. 1 & Pt. 2 | Run From What’s Comfortable | The Kids Will be Alright, Eventually. | We Are Going to Be Friends: Part 1

Kay here’s the fic

As soon as the bell rang and Mrs. White dismissed them, Logan shot out of the room. He dropped his books off at his locker and headed toward the lunch room. L was already at a table with his friends, but he waved Logan over anyway. “There he is! Guys, this is my wonderful little-”

“I’m four inches taller than you” L glared at him.

“-Okay whatever, YOUNGER brother, Lo!” Everyone at the table waved, except two at the back who were looking at him slightly suspiciously. One of them spoke up,

“Aren’t you the kid who pushed the Sanders twins this morning?” Logan blushed bright red. L raised his eyebrows and smirked at his brother.

“How could you have possibly already gotten in a fight? You’ve been here five hours!” Logan opened his mouth to explain, but the other guy cut him off.

“Oh no, it wasn’t a fight. They were in front of his locker and he just moved them. No struggle at all. Pushed ‘em aside like they weighed like, 40 pounds.” L snorted.

“I don’t know the Sanders twins well. They aren’t going to murder him or anything, right?” It was at that moment that said twins appeared behind Logan, Remus scooping him up bridal style. Logan let out what could only be described as a screech.

“Put me down, you great buffoon!” Roman laughed at that, but Remus just grinned. L shot to his feet, immediately trying to come to his brother’s rescue, but finding that there wasn’t much he could actually do. The twins started to walk towards a table that wasn’t too far away from where L and his friends were. “What do you think you’re doing‽”

“Kidnapping you! You’re sitting with us.” Remus said with a grin. Logan opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off. “No ifs, ands, or asses, Erlenmeyer Trash!” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think that’s the saying-” Remus cut him off.

“I said what I said.” He unceremoniously dropped Logan into a chair at a table already occupied by an eclectic group of what Logan assumed were theater kids, jocks, and general preps. There were also two people with paint on their clothes and arms, who Logan assumed were either set designers or just particularly messy artists. “This is Logan, we’re keeping him.” Nobody at the table argued. Remus sat next to Logan, pulling out a grocery bag from his backpack. Roman did the same, both of the twins tossing them on the table and immediately passing out food to everyone sitting there. Roman sat an apple and water in front of Logan, and Remus handed him what looked like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “No food allergies, right?” Logan shook his head, bewildered. Everyone else at the table just took the food like this was completely normal.

“Uh, can I ask why-” One of the people with paint on them answered his question.

“At some point last year we were all at The Sanders’ house and someone mentioned the food was totally inedible, so their Dad started packing lunches en masse. There’s pretty much always extras, so don’t worry, you aren’t taking anyone’s.” Logan looked even more confused at that.

“Your Dad just decided to feed an army of teenagers because school lunch food doesn’t taste good?” Roman shrugged and nodded. “Isn’t that, oh I don’t know, incredibly expensive?” The same kid who answered Logan’s question laughed.

“Dude. Sanders. Like, Thomas Sanders.” They said, as if that was an answer in and of itself.

“Like.. Actor, Thomas Sanders?” Logan asked, staring at the twins who were nodding, already eating their food. “Well, I guess that explains the dramatics, then.” Logan snorted, and the rest of the table let out laughs of varying degrees. Roman scoffed.

“You have room to talk. You literally stomped through a group of people and shoved us just so you could hang up your jacket!” Logan had the sense to look slightly embarrassed at that.

“Ah- sorry, about that. I wasn’t in a great mood. No coffee this morning.” The table laughed again, and the group fell into easy conversation. Logan was surprised that even though all of the people seemed to be older than him, and had clearly been friends for a while, they easily added him into their conversations, immediately teasing and joking with him like they had known him as long as everyone else. It was nice.

After lunch, the group split up again, and Logan headed back to his locker. L was standing there with a smug look on his face. “Soo… I see you’re making friends. What happened to ‘high schoolers are all immature and ridiculous, and I refuse to bother myself with them’, huh? You seem to have bothered yourself with like twelve of them. ” Logan groaned.

“ I did no such thing. I was kidnapped.” He opened his locker and grabbed the notebooks and folders he would need for his last two classes. “And besides, I think they only asked me to sit with them because I told Remus I would help him with our English class.” Logan admitted. He hadn’t made the connection until he started speaking, but it seemed obvious now that he thought of it. It wasn’t friendship, it was convenience.

“I don’t know if that’s true, buddy-” Someone came up behind them, dropping a hand on Logan’s shoulder. He turned and was met with a few of the people from the lunch table.

“Hey, Lo! What class are you heading to now? Is it a freshman class or-”

“I’m going to Biology, with Mr. Stewart.” Two of them in the back ‘wooped’ at that. Logan thought their names were Kai and Elliot. They were the two artists. “Why.. woop?” The one who had asked, was his name Evan?, groaned.

“Damn, I’m going to pre-calc with Sloane. I was hoping you would be in that class too, literally nobody I know is in there.” He glanced at Elliot and Kai. “I think the woop was because they’re in class with you.” Evan laughed. “What about last period? Who do you have?” Logan checked his schedule.

“Uh, trig with Mr. Padley.” Evan nodded.

“Yeah, we just call him Sloane. He’s a cool dude. Anyone gonna be in that class with Lo?” The group shook their heads. “Daamn, that sucks dude. Anyway, see ya later!” Evan waved, heading off towards the math wing with most of the group. Kai and Elliot stayed behind. Logan was mildly surprised, but simply waved his goodbye to his brother, who had a big grin on his face, and walked with them to their shared class.

The classroom was set up at high top tables, three stools to a table, much to Logan’s relief. That meant that whoever he sat with would have someone else to talk to, and he wouldn’t have to make friends with someone in order to keep the peace if their seats they picked today became their permanent places. He was glancing around the room, trying to decide where to sit when he heard his name being called. Kai was looking at him like he was losing his mind.

“You gonna come sit down, or are you waiting for a written invitation, Lo?” He laughed. Elliot rolled their eyes.

“He probably doesn’t want to sit next to you, loser. Trade me spots.” Kai pretended to be offended as Logan slowly made his way over to them.

“Apologies. I did not realize I was welcome to sit with you.” Logan said quietly, setting his notebooks down in the far corner so he wouldn’t be in Kai’s way.

“What, did you think we were going to make you sit by yourself?” Elliot looked genuinely confused. Kai had a similar look of confusion on his face.

“Well, I uh-” It was at that moment Mr. Stewart came in, immediately going into how he would tolerate ‘No Nonsense’, so the conversation was cut short, saving Logan from embarrassing himself again.

Pls comment and reblog and like I crave human interaction.

#sanders sides #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #Remus is a Jock #Roman is a Jock #Logan is a punk #punk au #food mention #Logan get adopted by the creativitwins #Larry is Logans brother #cartoon therapy characters #like all of them #ask to tag

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

Ectober Day 28: Connections - A Strange Kind Of Ferality Chap. 2: The Spread Of Team Phantom

Danny’s become something of a legend everyone in Amity knows, as have the other strange teens.

Jasper bops Levy on the nose as she hops to sit on his lap. “Now that you and your folks have finally moved to Amity Park with the rest of the family, want to hear a tale?”.

Levy nods and bounces around slightly, grinning with a few teeth missing.

Jasper clears his throat, “now this is a legend of Amity. But not just of our strange ghostly home, no, of America herself”, pointing out the window to one of the many images of Phantom’s logo that the town was decorated in with pride, “I’m quite sure you know of Phantom. But this isn’t about Phantom. But rather a boy, a living mortal boy, the son of two ghost hunters actually”.

Levy giggles, “so ghosts are still involved”.

“Indeed they are, though not really. You see their son, the Fenton boy, Daniel or Danny I believe his name was. Well you see, he was a strange one”.

Levy tilts her head, “like the kid who eats glue sticks and thinks soap tastes good?”.

Jasper laughs, “oh so much more than that, little one. People say he was like a feral animal, all snarls and bared fangs. Could move like a lithe cat and wounds never seemed to stay as long as they should. I’ve even heard it told he once broke his leg only to walk off as if nothing ever happened. Some folks even believed he could hear you across town or would walk in time with people's heartbeats”.

“Oh that is really weird”.

“Indeed, and it’s a sad thing, because you know how people are about weird. They don’t like it and end up chasing it away”, Jasper pats her head as she frowns, “yes it is unfortunate. But he came back, always did. Sometimes he’d stay for days only to disappear after government agents showed up”.

Levy goes wide-eyed and gapes, “wow! Was he some kind of mutant or something? Alien?”.

Jasper chuckles, “hard to say. But it wasn’t just him who was strange. See he had two close friends as well. One was known for being creepy and hitting on everything even before Daniel had become strange. The other was a goth girl with more fondness for plants than people”.

“Plants are better than people though?”.

“You’re not wrong. But I heard it told, her plants would bite and attack people. That she could even control them. A witch they said”.

“Aunty Shade is a witch! She makes so many pretty smelling bags”.

“That she is, but I’m certain no one believes Shade’s summoning ghosts or putting curses on people. One story tells how the goth girl, I believe her name was Sam, had transformed into a dragon once because a girl insulted Daniel”.

Levy giggles at that and mutters, “good. Deserved it”.

Jasper smiles slightly and pats her head, “you have quite the taste for justice don’t you?”, readjusting in his chair, “anyway, none of the rumours about her could really be verified. Though she had many the same as Daniel, growling and being threatening. But the other friend, Tucker was his name, we can verify some of the rumours about him. You can even look it up, see he could hack anything. Even ghosts. He’s on most government watch lists because of that. And I remember how you were so impressed when Lex jumped that river. Well, Tucker supposedly jumped across roofs and would fall down people's chimneys, only to apologise and climb out their windows. And another strange thing I’ve heard, apparently he dated his electronic gadgets”.

Levy snorts and starts laughing, making Jasper smile as he continues, “now all this is just quirky of course. Where things get truly strange is after all three left Amity, only to return. As I’ve said Daniel never stayed away too long, but these two friends seldom visited and they only did with Daniel with them”.

“So they were really close friends, what’s weird about that?”.

“Oh nothing. What’s weird is how they were all weirder every-time they returned. Or at least the weird was more noticeable. They were feral through and through. On the prowl, looking for danger; putting everyone in the town on edge”. Leaning down and whispering to her, “now the real story begins after their visits had been going on for years. The two friends started doing the really truly strange things Daniel was known for. Eyes glowing in darkened alleys, fangs and pointed ears, unnatural shows of strength and healing. Whatever had made that boy strange had happened to them as well it would seem”, whispering even quieter and almost menacingly, “and every so often another teen would be seen hanging around them. Acting strange but not nearly as much. Except for the ones who would show multiple times, they’d be feral too. Like whatever was up with Daniel was actively spreading”, grinning darkly, “and sometimes it was an Amity teen who would wander to them, start hanging out with them. Start changing, and eventually leaving Amity with the boy. Sometimes they come back with the boy, feral and wild. Some say Daniel’s a monster snatching away teenagers and making them like him”.

Jasper chucked at her wide-eyed expression as he leans back, “but the absolute strangest thing. The nail in the coffin for the boy, and those who followed after him, not being human. Was that none of them seemed to age. And even to this day, I hear it told you can still occasionally spot Daniel visiting Amity, some of the missing teens visiting Amity, feral teens from other towns visiting. Even though for many that shouldn’t be possible. Because, tell me, how long have the ghosts been around?”.

Levy tilts her head and makes a face, “six hundred and something?”, scrunching up her face, “but that means Daniel’s older than that!”.

Jasper bops her nose, “exactly. And yet...”, Jasper chuckles as he points out the window, Levy following where he points.

Looking back and forth from Jasper and the boy outside. Black hair, blue-eyed, short and skinny. Flanked by a purple-eyed goth, a orange-haired boy with freckles, and little black-haired and blue-eyed girl barely older looking than Levy. Levy watches as the black-haired boy talks with a dark-skinned bleach blonde girl that Levy recognises from Casperhigh. The boy laughing, revealing fangs; making Levy squeak and look back to Jasper.

Jasper just nods at her, “seems he’s here today”, patting her head as she looks back out the window, “now I know he’s an interesting one, but you best stay away. Him and his children never seem to cause harm, but danger always follows them and they are all wild things”.

Levy looks back at Jasper, “but what about the dark-skinned girl? She’s from school?”.

Jasper sighs, “I’m sure her folks will keep her inside, away from the boy and the other two. But he may spirit her away all the same. He’s taken a shine clearly”.

Levy frowns, “but doesn’t she know he might take her away? Everyone knows this tale right?”.

Jasper chuckles and pats her head, “she knows, everyone does. Especially in Amity. But it’s said that those who follow the boy are meant to. Some fear he spirits them away as he pleases, but most agree that every single teen choose to go with him”.

Levy looks back out the window as the four walks down the road, the goth tossing a burger to the dark-skinned one and flashing a fanged smile. Black hair tucked behind her pointed ears. Looking back to Jasper, “must not be bad then”.

Jasper frowns, “still best to not tempt fate dearie”, smiling again, “and there’s still more to this tale to tell”.

Levy tilts her head, forgetting about the strange boy potentially leading astray a high schooler, “oh?”.

Jasper nods, “you see these feral teens, Daniel’s teens, Daniel’s ‘children’; they show up in towns all over America. But each city sees one of them more often than any of the others. Amity sees Daniel the most of course. New York sees one named Peter. Chicago has Wes. New Jersey, Bruce. Las Vegas has Lily”, pointing out the window, “the goth, Sam, her city’s Elmerton. And the little girl, who some suspect is actually Daniel’s biological child, her place is Michigan”, leaning back, “and another thing each of these towns has? A ghostly protector. Some say that these teens are sacrifices, created into something not so human as anchors to the mortal world for a good ghost. That Daniel and Phantom were the first”. Bopping her nose, “and you know what really supports this? Michigan’s ghost protector is a little girl who looks nearly the same as our Phantom”.

Levy mouths ‘wow’ before speaking, “couldn’t they just be ghosts? Daniel be Phantom?”.

Jasper laughs, “now there’s a theory! I’ll leave that up to you to decide. There are plenty of theories about those teens, the feral children, the wild ones. But you want my opinion? A ghost is dead and no matter how strange or not quite human. Fenton clearly isn’t dead”.

Levy tilts her head, “what do you think they are?”.

“Oh? Fair folk, fae, fairies. My guess is that Daniel was a changeling, a fairy child swapped with a human child”, rolling his hand in the air, “and that the exposure to ectoplasm from the Fenton parents changed him into a conduit from here to the Ghost Realm. Connecting to Phantom”, tapping his chin, “I believe Daniel takes all the teens who follow him to the land of fairies equivalent in the Ghost Realm”.

“Why?”.

“You see, it’s said if a person stays in the land of fairies for long or eats their food, they’ll become fairies themselves”.

Levy shrugs, “I guess that makes sense, but they don’t have wings? Fairies have wings”.

Jasper laughs, “not all of them, and certainly not changelings”.

Levy huffs, “I think my idea makes more sense”.

Jasper pats her head, “I’m sure you do dearie, I’m sure you do”.

End.

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the-voice-of-night-vale · 4 years

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trying to explain to my therapist the ways i was bullied and traumatized as a child is. complicated.

because. okay. i was not socialized before i went to school in second grade. the only ppl i had around me growing up were my brothers (one 7 years older, a three years younger, and a six years younger); i had a neighbor who was three years older than me who scared me and i barely knew. everyone else was an adult.

so naturally, being a neurodivergent kid, when i went into school, i was really weird. i had attention issues (but not bad enough that they were picked up on), i had trouble making friends (i read to cope and made “friends” with my teachers instead), and didn’t understand a lot of social norms.

but i wasn’t weird enough to be directly bullied. i was skinny, white, adorable, and nice (except for when i was accidentally rude for not knowing any better). i was a teacher’s pet, I read and drew and preferred indoor recess. i wasn’t visibly gender nonconforming. i didn’t realize i was queer until middle school. so nobody made fun of me directly (at least not that i can remember). the closest thing I can remember is someone fake asking me out, which just confused me, and it didn’t register that i was being bullied. people made fun of me for kissing my friend on the cheek during recess, but it was only once and it didn’t matter.

but that doesn’t mean i wasn’t bullied. looking back people probably talked about me behind my back. they were probably mean to me but i didn’t realize it. I had a few friends but they were, for the most part, also weird (weird in the way elementary schoolers tend to be, but that didn’t stop the “less weird” kids from thinking oddly of us, at least retrospectively speaking).

when i was in fourth grade i moved in across the street from one of the more popular kids in my grade (or at least someone i saw as more popular than me lol), and so “out of necessity” she befriended me. But of course she couldn’t be seen with a weirdo like me, so she spent that summer “teaching” me how to be “normal.” this included run of the mill misogynistic bullshit; learning about face shapes and fashion and reading magazines. we watched movies and she texted and we didn’t run around or play tag like our brothers did. we just sat on the porch.

that shit traumatized me. it taught me to be over-aware of how others would interpret my actions and behaviors. it taught me that the way i acted naturally was weird, that i read too many books, that i should pluck my eyebrows and shave my legs. I was in the fifth grade.

i made a “v” shape with my fingers and stuck my tongue out in a picture and everyone screamed because it was a “lesbian” thing. i had barely known what a lesbian was. even though it would be nearly ten years until i actually realized i was neurodivergent, i was made aware of my symptoms and how unnatural they were viewed. how laughable. i had had rsd before anyway, but it made me far too aware of peer rejection (before it had been from teachers. it still remained that way, for the most part). i was taught that if i wasn’t “normal” enough i would go back to being alone. i didn’t have the understanding to come to the “i’m broken” conclusion, but that was probably what would have happened, if i had been just a little more aware.

it didn’t set in for me, completely, until i was a little bit older. we weren’t really friends after we left elementary school. she went to the richer middle school, i went to the poorer one, even though we still lived across the street from one another. i made friends with the scene (read: weird) kids at middle school. i dated girls. still, no one really bothered me. (probably bc all my friends carried knives and smoked cigerettes). the overly christian popular boy i had a crush on probably found me weird and creepy, but i didn’t ever speak to him much.

i found new, even weirder friends heading into high school, and i think this sense of hyperawareness finally set in when i a. started cosplaying homestuck at school (i had friends who did it. it was kind of the thing in 2014 and 2015) and b. started questioning my gender identity and exploring my queer identity more. for me, while i think this trauma is caused mostly by ableism, i think it’s also caused by queermisia.

i became acutely aware of the fact that people thought it was funny that i wore a wig to school a few times. they thought it was silly that i demanded their respect during productions in theater (i was stage manager). but still, no one bullied me about it directly. people eventually listened to me and were shocked when i swore at them and demanded they do what i and the director had asked (turn in scripts that were three days overdue)

partially i think this has to do with how “direct bullying” wasn’t particularly in fashion (that’s theory i’ve never looked into it really). but i still think it has to do with the fact that i was white, skinny, conventionally attractive. my only outward “sin” was that i was still a little weird. (by this point i had begun masking to appear at least somewhat normal. as normal as i knew how). while oppression olympics is not a game i’m going to ever play, i want to recognize my privilege. it would have been worse if i had been a kid of color, if i had been fat, etc. i eventually stopped hanging out with the weird kids who cosplayed at school.

keep in mind this is a half-liberal half-conservative school. the exact location in my state is relevant but not something i’m going to talk about here. it probably would have been worse if i had been in south carolina. hell, it probably would have been worse had i gone to a different, richer, less diverse school. (i knew people who went to our rival school, which was bigger and nicer and richer. it was apparently hell).

the way i learned about the consequences of my divergence was through how my peers spoke about other people. they made attack helicopter jokes, they made autism jokes, they made fun of homestuck and doctor who (two things which were important to me). i remember vividly my junior or senior year of high school someone in my drama class loudly and openly misgendering and making fun of a nonbinary person to my class. me, sitting two seats away, a closeted nonbinary person who had only just begun asking teachers to call me by a different name, learned the consequences of existing publicly. the trans kids at my school were under constant scrutiny. sure, some of this could be attributed to ignorance. no one ever seemed to know how to correctly gender some of the kids, for example. but there was a huge amount of queermisia. people tore down and drew on my GSA posters. the principle took down a flag poster we made for day of silence because ONE parent complained.

i remember a student in the theater production jokingly asked if “i had just assumed his gender.” i garnered very little respect from people whom i was technically, partially, in charge of during productions. i had authority that was rarely respected. they respected my boyfriend more. whether it was because he’s bigger, more intimimidating, a cis man, or was kind of buddies with them, i will never know, but i knew that the consequences of me living publicly and honestly was to lose what little authority and peace i had.

i admired the strength of a student who came out in his beginning drama class. i was sat at the back of the room in stage crew nearly crying because even tho the drama teacher was someone i was really close to, i couldn’t bring myself to come out to him. the roots were buried too deep.

i wished, often, in high school (and my first year of college) that i was a binary trans man, so coming out would be easier.

i was never shoved in a locker, called slurs, or publicly shamed. i was never beaten up. i’ve never even been in a fight. my trauma was quiet, and subtle, and undirected. i learned by hearing what people said of others who were like me; i learned by absorbing media; i learned in the subconscious way we’re all indoctrinated. it still follows me.

having such a quiet pain makes it hard to talk about my problems because i feel like my therapist doesn’t understand bullying on a less overt spectrum. it’s something i had to find words for in social theory. it’s something that requires education bc that’s how insidious it is.

and working past that trauma is hard and is not divided equally. it’s easy to dismiss the exorsexist claims of peers whom i never really respected in the first place. it’s easy to ignore that most cishet people i went to high school with deserve to burn in hell. it’s easy to reclaim the years in the closet that was lost to me. it’s easy to be in the closet at work. i know, generally, how to mask in a way that allows me to avoid facing direct queermisia. (easy, here, is only relative). again, part of this is because of where i live. part of it is because i have -- mostly -- accepting parents.

what’s hard is working past the societal ableism that corners me. not only is it impossible for me (without more conditioning and social trauma) to be “normal” in a world that doesn’t accommodate my neurotype, i can’t easily dismiss my concerns. i feel like my therapist is trying to get me to dismiss my response to feeling hyperaware of my effects in social circles. i know, no matter what, no matter how close i might think i am with someone,f they’re neurotypical, or even if they’re allistic and don’t have adhd, they won’t be able to accept and understand me. an even if they do -- i’ve had multiple people insist to me that they’ll never judge me, that their love for me is unconditional -- i still have to be aware of accidentally saying off-color or rude things without realizing it. i second guess myself bc i don’t want to cause other people pain. and there isn’t a remedy for that bc when it doesn’t happen it’s paranoia but when it does it’s bc i’ve caused someone pain and they won’t tell me, so they just get mad or passive aggressive or vague. i’m too autistic for that!! and it’s frustrating because if someone’s upset with me i need to know. i can’t be hinted. but asking that and making assumptions and being wrong is worse than just suffering. so i suffer.

me not being able to know how i’m effecting someone fucks me up hugely. it causes me to second guess and blame myself for everything. it makes me want to isolate from people i love so i don’t cross an invisible line they might have drawn.

i’m not sure exactly what i’m saying with this? it’s mostly a vent post i guess. but it’s also just.... idk it’s frustrating that queermisia and ableism (and all the other isms and social marginalizations) are only recognized as outright bigotry. it maintains the status quo bc it doesn’t require us to recognize and deconstruct the social structures that create those marginalizations. it doesn’t actually change anything.

and it’s frustrating that social trauma doesn’t get recognized unless it’s this overt form. and it’s frustrating that i have to do this at all, and frustrating that i don’t know how.

idk

#the queen of trash has spoken #long post #ask to tag #idk how i feel about ppl reblogging this but go ahead if u want idc #ok to interact in other ways tho #q power #queermisia #queerphobia #lesbomisia mention #lesbophobia mention #ableism #this is way too much information about me but there u go #what else is a tumblr for huh

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