#and thank you Mile for introducing me to all the great Thai bands

[moerusai]

เร้น (Ren) means conceal/secret. The MV synopsis:

"I once loved wholeheartedly but was poisoned and bruised by the words. Now, I no longer have the faith to ever trust again."

It's GOOD, so fucking good I have goosebumps all over my arms and a single dramatic tear rolling down my face.

[manunkinda]

So, I wrote the first chapter for a RK1K (Markus x Connor) fic. I’m not happy with it at all, but oh well. To be fair, it is my first DBH fic and I tend to have some troubles writing the first chapter for anything, It’s an AU. It’s called Dirty Blues.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101882/chapters/47616835

Chapter One: Smoke And Vinyls

Shit!”

Markus stepped down hard on the gas, his hands gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He was late. His bandmates, mainly North, were going to be pissed at him being late to the venue. Hell, he was pissed at himself. He didn't care if he was speeding on the highway, he just needed to get to his goddamn location.

He knew that sirens were going to tail him. He pulled over with a frustrated groan. He rolled down his window, watching the officer approach from the side mirror.

"Sir?" Markus was suddenly confronted with soft, brown doe-eyes. "You're aware that you were going 62 in a 40 mile zone, right?"

"Uh, yes..." He replied, trying to be as patient as possible given the situation.

The officer pursed his lips, as if he was thinking about something. "Why were you in a rush?"

"Gig."

"May I check your trunk?"

The driver nodded, tapping his fingers against the wheel. He glanced at the mirror as the officer opened the trunk, discovering a guitar case. He opened the case and inspected it for a minute before closing the case. He then closed the trunk and walked back to Markus.

"Nice guitar. Sorry, the department have been pulling over cars with Red Ice stashed away."

"It's fine. I understand."

"So, where's this gig?" The officer asked, thumbs hooked in his belt.

"Magic Stick. It starts at eight-thirty. My band's a regular there."

"Ah, okay." The man unhooked his thumbs and pulled out a notepad and pen. "What's your name?"

"Markus Manfred." He told him.

"You're a lucky man, Markus. I'm deciding not to give you a ticket. However, if you speed again, ticket. Got it?"

Markus smiled slightly and watched as he wrote his name and license plate number on paper. "Got it."

"Great." He put the pad and pen away. "I might see your band at the Magic Stick tonight."

"You don't strike me as someone who enjoys rock music."

“I’m full of surprises,” the officer grinned. “See you there?”

Markus could feel his face heat up, and he nodded in return. “Yeah, see you there.”

The nameless officer got back into his police cruiser and Markus started his car, integrating with the others on the highway.

The hard case felt heavy in his hands as he entered the venue. His bandmates were already setting up.

Simon lifted his head up from tuning his guitar, spotting his friend. "Guys, Markus is here."

North rushed out from backstage, holding her bass. “Where the fuck have you been?!" She demanded loudly, clearly angry.

"Cool down, I was pulled over on the highway. No big deal. I'm sorry." Markus countered, walking towards the stage.

"No big deal?" She looked at Simon and Josh, who seemed to be neutral. They knew that not agreeing with North would make this even messier, but Markus had a point.

"Yeah, seriously. Calm down, save the energy for the show." He got onto the platform and went backstage to take his guitar out. As he stepped back onto the stage with his instrument, North threatened to hit him with her bass guitar.

After doing the sound check, the band waited backstage and had a couple of drinks. Markus eyed the clock.

Eight-thirty.

It was time.

Markus found himself in the light in front of the mic, his friends also on stage. He was previously nervous, but all his fright had disinagrated away. "For the returning folks, welcome back. For first-timers, we're Jericho." He glanced at his bandmates to see if they were ready. "Josh, hit it."

The familiar harsh kick of the drums invaded his ears, and the rest of the band joined in, including him. North's bass could be felt from the speakers, and Simon's lead work added little intricacies. His voice was introduced to the wall of sound as they all played their part, yet remained in synch.

Pause.

And the sound shattered silence once again.

The show had ended and people were leaving. Markus was chatting with his friends, discussing tonight and joking around as they got ready to leave. While Carl was doing okay, he wished he was here, and he knew that Carl wanted to come; but he would be able to tell him all about tonight when he got home. He turned when he heard his name.

It was the officer from earlier. He almost didn't recognize him out of uniform.

"Oh hey," he smiled. He didn’t see him in the small crowd, but he suspected that he must’ve been hanging out in the back of the room. "Like the performance?"

The man ran his fingers through his hair, beaming. "Yeah, it was fun. You guys did a good job."

"Who's this, Markus?" Josh asked. Simon and North were curious as well, trying to figure out who the hell this stranger, who seemed to know their lead singer, was.

"This is... Uh..." Markus snapped his fingers a couple times. "I don't think you've ever told me your name."

"Connor." The doe-eyed man responded, straightening his jacket.

"This is Connor. He's the officer who pulled me over for speeding today."

North glanced at Connor, then Markus, then Connor again. Her expression could only be described as mischievous, a playful smirk tugging on her lips. “You know, Markus... You did tell me that you were pulled over today, but you never told me the cop was cute.”

Markus bit the inside of his cheek and Connor cleared his throat quietly as his friends laughed.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Connor.” Josh said. “Glad you enjoyed the show.”

“Yeah, we gotta pack and get home. We all have work or class.” Simon added, wrapping up some cords that were in his hands. “Hope to see you around more though.”

"Markus, you should take Connor to our grub hub for dinner." North suggested.

Markus shrugged. "I mean, it's up to him. Do you want to go eat?"

Connor looked hesitant. "Uh, sure? I was thinking you could come over and we could order takeout instead."

"We can do that." Markus agreed, ignoring North's teasing look. "Just let me put my stuff away and then we can go."

Connor nodded and waited near the door. “I can text you the address.” He told Markus as the other man neared the entrance with his guitar case.

“Sounds good. I’ll just put this in the trunk. I'll see you guys later.” Markus told his friends. He gave Connor his number and went to his car, putting away his things. His phone dinged, and he glanced at the screen to see an address.

Markus parked in the driveway of the small, one-floor home. He stopped the vehicle and got out, closing the car door afterwards.

The yard was relatively clean, although it was desperate for a cut. The grass was not quite long, but was getting there. He figured that he was too busy with his job to mow his lawn.

The musician approached the door, climbing up the steps. He pressed the doorbell, and after a couple of seconds, the door opened to reveal Connor who invited him in.

The first thing that Markus noticed were the shelves of vinyls, CDs, and cassettes that were on display in the living room.

Damn.

The second thing he noticed was that there were no pictures of Connor’s family as far as he could tell. The atmosphere of this home was a whole different vibe compared to the large, colorful mansion that he and Carl lived in.

“So, any ideas?”

Markus was forced out of observation. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Takeout.” Connor repeated. “Any ideas?”

“Uh, not sure. Just pick whatever.”

The host nodded and took out his phone. “Thai then?”

“Sure. Vegetable Pad Thai please.”

Markus’ mismatched eyes travelled to Connor’s left arm as Connor dialed a number and turned away, his back facing him. Crimson roses, cerulean plumerias, and wicked thorns adorned his entire limb from the shoulder to his wrist.

He was in awe at the complexity of the ink.

Connor ended the call and turned back around. “You know, you can take off your jacket and make yourself comfortable.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” He quickly took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat hanger. “Your sleeve tattoo is beautiful, by the way.”

He swore he saw Connor blush. “Uh, thanks. It was just inspired by a family friend’s garden.” Connor slipped his phone back into his pocket. “The food should be here pretty soon. Want anything to drink? I’ve got beer in the fridge.”

“A beer’s fine.” He sat down on the sofa as Connor went into the kitchen, coming back out with two beer bottles, one in each hand. He handed one to Markus and sat down.

The food arrived, and the two men dug in, chatting as they ate. After finishing and cleaning up, Connor decided to put a record on. “You know Bambara?”

Markus leaned back on the sofa. “No, actually. Never heard of them.”

“It’s a good band to get stoned to.” Connor said, rather casually.

Everyone had vices, regardless of their lifestyle. Still, he hadn’t taken Connor for a smoker. Usually, Markus was able to read a person correctly, but Connor was an exception. He would be lying if he said that the man wasn’t intriguing. “You smoke weed?”

“A little.” He replied, guiding the needle to the vinyl and turning up the volume. “For anxiety. As long as it doesn’t interfere with work, I’ll be fine.”

Markus watched as Connor opened a drawer on one of the end tables and took out a small sandwich bag and lighter, sitting back down. The music was already playing.

Connor noticed Markus watching and looked at him, opening the bag. “Want a joint?” He asked the taller man.

Markus shook his head. He personally didn’t like to smoke, but he knew people who did. He wasn’t unfamiliar. “Nah, thanks though. I’ll just stick to beer.”

Connor nodded and rolled up a joint before lighting it.

Neon glowing in the night,

Red words: Red Tide,

Shining in your eyes.

Smoke twirled in the air, the smell of burning paper and pungent leaves invading the room.

A gunshot cracked,

And streaming blood fanned out around its kicking feet.

Dead eyes staring,

Dead eyes staring.

Two bottles multiplied into four, and then eight.

“No one really leaves,”

Jimmy says through a cloud of smoke.

”Where would he go anyway?”

The sun is up and the birds are pecking

Pecking at something lying in the dirt.

Markus was sitting on the floor, lying against the sofa as he listened. Connor was draped on the sofa on his back, his legs hanging over the arm of the furniture. His red eyes stared straight at the blank ceiling, like there was something up there, or perhaps a mural. He noticed the sparse speckles of small moles, or maybe they were freckles, that were scattered across Connor’s face, neck, and hands.

Let’s make something huge and full of rust,

Rebar ‘round my handsome bust.

Broken glass like jagged flowers,

Climbing up a twisting tower.

Markus lost track of the time, zoning out and drunker than he intended to be. How the hell was he going to get home? Carl was going to lecture him on being responsible; he just knew it. The coffee table was almost covered in bottles and Connor was tired.

The town kids smoke meth and drink

Behind the scrap metal heap.

The guesthouse lies hidden...

He would figure something out.

[wumbleberry-fc]

Chai, Flowering Tea, Blueberry-muffin Tea, Kombucha

Chai: Where do you want to travel next?

I would like to visit Canada, since I’m going to live within 60 miles of the border real soon, and I would also like to visit more states in the US, as I have been in 20 states now (not including only being in an airport).

Flowering Tea: What is a movie you can always watch?

I am always down to see the movie Airplane! It’s hilarious I recommend it with high regards.

Blueberry-muffin Tea: Tell me a memory that makes you smile.

This is the story of June 2nd. (WARNING: VERY LONG)

So, the last assembly of the school year is dedicated to the senior class, and it’s known as the Senior Assembly. It features speeches by a couple students, final performances by senior drillers and senior cheerleaders, a performance by ‘Man Drill’ (where some male juniors dress up and perform in a hilarious parody of what regular drill might do, meme style), performances by any senior soloists or groups of senior students who wish to play something for the class (2016 featured a lovely original jazzy performance by all the senior brass, and then some students sang ‘Fix You,’ among other things), announcements of the staff who will be leaving with the seniors, department honors,  and then there is a moving up thing where each class transitions to the next class, and the seniors go into the middle of the gym and watch a slideshow of whatever pictures the students sent in, and then the band plays the alma mater for the last time for them (also, they play at the entrance procession as well).

This year, it was combined with Gordy Games, which is a day where pretty much classes are super short, and then it’s a fun, casual day, with food trucks on campus, bouncy houses, a dodgeball tournament, video games, a movie, and yearbook distribution, where anybody can go wherever they want and nobody cares what you do, so long as it’s legal. It’s the one day where no administrator even semi-actively tries to enforce the no underclassman off-campus policy, and it’s just a super easy day to not worry about the end-of-year stress and just be kids for a day.

Well, this year, I was one of the three seniors who gave a speech. Back in late April, word was sent that they were looking for seniors interested in speaking at graduation. One student would speak at graduation, a couple would speak at the Senior Assembly, and one would speak at the Last Lesson.

Only a total of 7 of us even bothered to draft a potential speech. A week after writing the draft and presenting it to a panel of teachers (on May 1st), I found out that I was one of those chosen for the Senior Assembly (which was the one I wanted).

Flash forward a bit: Three days before the assembly, I was pulled from my last period and told to report to the principal. When I got there, she told me that a meeting should’ve happened way earlier but she was swamped. She then told me that there was no flow in my speech at all, there seemed to be no clear point, and it needed to be completely rewritten, and so I promised that I’d have a brand new speech written with a point and a flow by lunch the next day (Yep! 21 hours to rewrite from scratch a 5-minute speech).

The next day, which just so happens to be my birthday, I had my new speech printed out and ready, and I was a ball of nerves as I walked into her office at 11:30. She had me read the new speech, and she said “This is a million times better, thank you. I approve of this speech,” and I was so relieved oh my goodness.

Now onto the day of the event and the happy memories!

It was a late start Friday (8:50 instead of 7:20), but we had to be there by 6:30, which was fine. We did the run-through of things, and when us three speakers finished, we were able to go, and I joined the philharmonic orchestra in a zero period rehearsal to practice our combined pieces for the concert the week after, and then we had 12 minute classes.

The entrance was long but I loved walking in to the sounds of everyone cheering for our class with the band playing some pep tunes and it was great! There was a greeting, the drill performance, the first speaker (who was alright, not very emotionally stirring or anything. It was... speechy.), the cheerleaders, the Man Drill, and then it was my turn.

I went up to the podium, and gave this speech:

Hello. I am Alex Walter, and I have one thing to say:

I love Hazen.

Well, I have more to say than just that. I stand here before you today representing the senior class. I am not a Representative of the class, I am not the four-year three-sport varsity athlete, I am not the most popular guy in the class—I am a regular, run-of-the-mill senior student. Except for one thing.

I love Oliver M. Hazen Senior High School. After 4 years, not many of the 388 of us can say the same. While I don’t hold the belief that ‘Hazen is whack,’ I do understand where it comes from.

It began four years ago, when 368 of us sat in these bleachers for the first time as a Hazen student. At our orientation, we were oriented to Hazen, told the rules and guidelines, and given our first warning about our culminating project. Immediately after, we forgot our way around, nobody remembered to not clump around in major hallways and stairwells, and were told not to put off our culminating project. Four years later, and we still don’t know the bell schedule, where everything is in the school, how to keep walking in the hallways, and what the culminating project is.

Furthermore, thanks to No Child Left Behind, we were privileged to have the opportunity to take all these BRAND NEW Standardized Tests. Wasn’t that Smarter Balanced Assessment Consortium fun!? And how about that new version of the SAT WITH Essay?!

Miscommunication, though, is one of the biggest reasons Hazen isn’t always kept in the highest regard. I miss the days where the food services accounts emailed about a low balance $5.00 before overdrafting, instead of $5.00 after. I’m waiting for the day when the system finally marks excused absences as excused. Especially when I was in the Lecture Hall all day. And speaking of the Lecture Hall, as I pointed out there during the Constitutional Convention, it took three and a half years to find out how to check how many detention hours I had. Luckily, despite not being the best student, I didn’t have any.

Beyond all of this, though, we must keep in mind that, just like life, Hazen is more than a few things. Hazen has many layers, just like onions, ogres, and all of us. We are more than our grades and test scores. We have our special interests, hobbies, priorities, and lifestyles. Our beloved Assistant Principal Mr. ____ is more than a strict disciplinarian. He is a loving father, a fantastic dancer, and the best reader of Green Eggs and Ham that I have ever met! And Hazen is more than kids who don’t listen, government-mandated and -implemented educational standards, and faulty electronic systems.

Hazen provides amazing acceptance and diversity in both opportunities and activities. Seriously, last year we formed a club where we would literally sit around and play Super Smash Bros. Brawl for an hour and a half each week. And that is on top of D&D club and Gamer’s Guild club.

We have a Gay Straight Alliance, a Black Student Union, an Asian Student Coalition, and a Latino Student Union. We have the Yearbook, the Kilt, and Lit Mag, which all feature superb writing and artwork! We have a drama department that puts on an astounding two shows a year, or in the case of this year, eight! We have top-class, state championship-winning FBLA, Drill, Cheer, Choir, Orchestra, and Band programs! WE HAVE A MARCHING BAND!!!!! We have a school store operated by DECA that introduced me to the wonderful world of bagels. We even have athletics!, who, while they might not win all their games, they win spots in our hearts.

I personally don’t participate in all of these activities and groups, as, well, it’s hard to be an active member in seven groups who all meet at 2:15 on Thursday. But the ability to have so many choices to pick and choose from is brilliant.

It’s these choices that define our Hazen experience. For me, I chose to join the band. I joined a group that not only gets to make music, but gets to support our school and our community. I got to scream, or cheer, to my heart’s content and dance like nobody was watching at games. I got to play stand tunes and pop songs for you all. I got to grow as an individual in both musical maturity and emotional maturity. I gained an accepting environment filled with friendly people. And by marching this year, I even got the athletic component in and did some physical exercise. I got the full Hazen experience, all in one.

It’s our choices that characterize and embody Hazen as a whole, and, I have to say that I don’t want to leave. You make me proud to be a Highlander. You make Hazen a place I want to be at. You make Hazen a place I love.

I’ll miss you.

(I know at least two people who recorded my speech, but I still haven’t seen either of them so I can’t provide that for you guys, but it was beautiful!)

After that, it was a Orchestral Quartet, the final senior speaker (who’s speech was sad and deep), the senior dances, the farewells to the departing teachers, the moving up, the slideshow, and then we left for Gordy Games.

At Gordy Games, I kept receiving compliments on my speech, and I hung out with my three greatest friends. We ended up bailing the school, and went an got Thai food at a place about a mile from campus, and then walked over to a park another mile away and had a picnic and it was my first ever picnic type thing and we just sat there for over 2 hours eating and talking and hanging out and it was like the best ever, and then we walked another 2 miles back to one of our houses, and departed from there at around 5, after 4.5 hours together.

And every time I think about that day, my face just brightens up completely, because it was the four of us, together, completely happy on a stress-free afternoon being best friends and I love them all and that is one of the happiest days of my life!

TL;DR: A speech that I had to rewrite last-minute for a school-wide assembly went brilliantly well and afterwards I hung out with my 3 favorite people (that I’ve met physically) and had an even better time, for one of the best days in my life.

Kombucha: What do you order on pizza?

Either an all meat pizza, an all meat stuffed pizza, a cheese pizza, a sausage and green pepper pizza, or what I just found to be good, a chicken bacon ranch pizza.

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Thanks for the asks!!!