#gets smashed by a piano falling from above

[nomeniko]

today’s menu…. he smells like alcohol cigarettes and fish

HUFF HUFBF HFUHFFF HUFIFNG

[roosterbruiser]

blurb idea: everyone joking and asking Bradley how he's surviving bc he only has daughters but then you see Bradley at home painting nails, having a tea party, pretending to be at a fashion show, engaging in 5 different conversations. All that in one afternoon. And he's just so happy the entire time and can't wait to do it again 🥲

can be read as part of the Landslide universe :)

Rooster is a girl dad. it isn't even just his energy--it's a legitimate fact. first there was Olive, then there was Joni. the two of you thought for sure that the third was going to be a boy, not that it mattered either way--so imagine your surprise when you had Finch; your third daughter. and when the two of you agreed one more baby, not even in hopes of a son but just to complete your family, you were blessed with two more girls: Opal and June.

it was all the buzz around base, when Rooster came back from paternity leave a few months ago, everyone mockingly taking a knee when he entered the room like he was some sort of battle hero.

it's something Rooster is chided about relentlessly, even now. everyone falls you and your daughters the hens, calling all your get-togethers hen parties, asking how he survives the estrogen of it all. it gets especially brutal when his commander or a student points out the leftover glitter in his hair or the tutu someone snuck in his work duffel. there was also that one time he forget to take off his nail polish before work--boy, did the man have a heyday with that one.

Rooster takes it all in stride, though, happily wearing homemade ties to work and presenting scrawled drawings. he has hardly any elbow room on his desk because of all the frames that clog it.

it's a regular Wednesday in the middle of September as Rooster walks up the path to your front door, but it feels like the first day of summer to him. the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming. and inside the house, he can hear the chaos that has been brewing all day: Olive trying to stop Joni from abusing the piano and failing, Finch following you around the house and asking you about caterpillars again, Opal babbling, June crying, your steady voice, the radio playing Born in the U.S.A again (no doubt at Olive's request), the dogs whining for dinner.

it's really music to his ears.

"daddy's home!" he hears you call as he stuffs his key in the lock.

and when he swings the door open, he's knee-deep in all of it. Olive, the oldest and the most coordinated, is dodging everyone to spring over to Rooster. she takes her spot on his left leg, hugging him to her body, immediately trying to tattle on Joni for abusing Grandpa Goose's piano. Finch makes it to him second, less-coordinated and not wearing anything except a diaper and one of his neckties, a toothy grin cutting her face as she reached up for her dad. and once he's holding her, patting Olive's head in greeting as he kisses Finch's ruddy cheeks, Joni has planted herself firmly on his other leg.

you're steadily making your way to him, too, the weight of the world slipping off your shoulders as he kisses all his girls hello.

"daddy said you're not supposed to smash the keys!" Olive insists, incredulous.

Joni screws up her face, sticking her tongue out at Olive.

"I wasn't!" she insists. "daddy, Olive's lying!"

"gotta be careful with the piano," he says, patting Olive's tawny hair, then Joni's. he can hardly hear their bickering above the blasting radio. "how many times has this song played today?" he asks with a grin.

Finch takes it upon herself to answer, having recently learned numbers. she stuffs her sticky hand in Rooster's face, holding up five fingers proudly.

"five?" he asks, eyebrows raised. he kisses her little palms and she giggles at the way his mustache tickles her skin. "you girls torturing your mama when I'm not here?"

"and Opal didn't nap today," you add with a deep heave, bouncing the twins on your hips as they each mouth your sleeves, blinking up at you with their daddy's big, brown eyes. "and June had a blowout, and Finch is a nudist. Joni tried to drink out of the dog's bowl again. and the dog got into your office and found your stash of Reese's, which you were hiding from me."

"sorry, baby," Rooster insists.

"after everything I've given you?" you tease, nodding to his armful of girls and yours. "I'm offended!"

"I think I helped a little," Rooster teases.

standing before him now, you smile despite yourself. Rooster's still grinning, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips before taking the twins from you, holding them both with one arm. he hopes he can always hold all of his girls at once, even though he knows it's not something that will stick around forever.

"just a little," you tell him, stretching your taut body out now that your child-free.

"what about me?" Olive pouts, tugging your pant leg. "what did I do?" she asks.

always wanting to be involved.

"you, little miss, made me play Bruce Springsteen all day!" you tell her, bending at the hips to stroke her cheek.

she grins at that, nodding proudly.

"yeah, I did," she confirms, blinking up at Rooster. "I love Bruce Springsteen!"

"you're a weird little kid," Rooster tells her with a teasing grin. "who raised you?"

she grins up at him, one of her front teeth missing.

"you!" she confirms.

"got me there," Rooster sighs. "I love Bruce Springsteen, too!"

Opal and June are already pressing their gummy little mouths to Rooster's chest, taking fistfuls of his mustache and t-shirt. your arms feel decidedly empty for the first time today, which you always look forward to, but never thoroughly enjoy.

"time's the tea party?" Rooster asks, leaving lingering kisses to the top of the twin's heads as Finch picks through his hair a la baby monkey searching for bugs.

"now!" Joni insists, untying his shoe.

Olive's batting Joni's hands, trying to get her to quit it, and Joni is growling at Olive.

"no being feral," you warn the both of them, pointing an accusing finger at Joni. "let daddy at least get through the door before you growl, huh?"

"but mommy," Joni whines, throwing her head back dramatically. "I'm a puppy dog!"

"you're just Joni," Olive insists, lips pursed. "this is real life."

"hey," Rooster warns, glancing down at Olive. "who made you the pretend police?"

Olive doesn't have an answer, just looking up at her dad with slanted brows and parted lips. ever the most exasperated, serious older sister in the world.

"she's been really into realism today," you tell Rooster, crossing your arms over your chest. "Jake shouldn't have let her watch Life of Pi."

Rooster starts to walk forward with a great effort, grunting as he glides across the foyer with an extra hundred pounds of giggling weight.

as he trudges through the foyer with great effort, his shirt now wet with baby slobber and his curls mussed from grubby fingers and his shoelaces unties, you watch him affectionately. anyone in the world can look at him like this, with that grin splitting his lips and that laugh sitting in his throat, and know that this is what he's meant for.

"c'mon, mama," he calls to you, glancing over his shoulder. "can't be late for the tea party!"

"with real tea," Olive clarifies, shooting you a thumbs up. "but fake cucumber sandwiches!" then she shoots you a thumbs down for affect.

"m'coming," you sigh dreamily, locking the door. "chamomile or jasmine?"

[abreecakes]

Change Me Chp. 2 ( BOOK - AMO ERGO SUM )

Change me

To pander, to favorite

We sat in the cave waiting for the next wave of torment AM would give to us, but he did not respond to us. ‘ Is he finally bored, or has he run out of ideas? ‘ I thought. I start to piece that y/n was missing and AM not planning another trick. Benny was to my right saying things in his poor vocabulary. Why is he saying nonsense, he’s probably hallucinating again about escape. “ LOOK, LOOK UP! Y/N UP! “

“ It would seem he’s trying to say Y/n is above us. “ the Nazi popped in squinting his eyes to try to see a door, but couldn’t make any image of it. I really don’t understand why these four still think there is any type of hope or escape, it’s so frustrating to me to get hopes up and then torment comes right after. But Y/n may have a chance to have mercy I guarantee that.

Ellen was still sleeping from exhaustion and her germs bruised from falling off the edge of a loose edge AM made us climb. My poor Ellen… Sometimes I can get used to seeing her body smashed in or her skin burned. The funny thing is I thought halfway in this prison I would get used to this. Everyday just waiting to get destroyed and put back together, I WAS SO, SO WRONG. It’s like my body is begging to be destroyed right after I’m put back together. Though Am just decides to have Mercy on that twat for no reason, I don’t get it, I CAN'T MAKE SENSE of it.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, “ You’re doing it again, stop thinking so much or you’ll end up more lost than the chimp. “ Gorrister said. I got along with everyone on a normal basis, by how much time we spent together at this point were practically brothers and sisters. We told our whole rotten lives, and well Nimdok would just sit there and have flashbacks of his life. We see him as a Jar-head more than one of us, hell we even like BEnny’s company more than his.

Gorrister broke the silence, “ Ted… Do ya think that she’s really up there. I mean we’ve seen AM be lenient on her punishments but this time I think, I really think there working together. Ain’t he always complainin’ about how he’s not human “. I already knew what he was trying to say, but AM doesn’t even tolerate us not being scrambled into bits or falling into a trap. Has that snake betrayed her humanity and subjected herself to the very thing that hates us for merely existing.

I took one more glance at the ceiling and wondered, what if. What if AM has found a way to become one of us, or found a way to entertain himself. Either way I’m One hundred percent sure Y/n has Lund a way to give us a break.

The Child

You slept for 20 hours, and yet you still felt tired and strained. The AI did not return to you still and you wanted to explore the rest of the abandoned space but it was too dark and the company of AM’s voice wasn’t there so there was no chance you were leaving the room he provided you. Looking around, you saw a book filled with drawings with crayons, a camera, small children's shoes, they appeared to be female's , and a small piano. You got up and took a long stretch then packed the desk with the book of drawings, to your surprise there was not much dust and everything felt so used.

I opened the book and it read “ Me and my best friend! “. I slowly analyzed the next page and I couldn’t even believe it, even though it was a little poorly drawn, I could tell what the drawing was.

I asked Mr. Computer what he does when he gets bored, he told me he is always working for the country. But he sounds so unhappy.

It showed what appeared to be a man with the head of a monitor with a frown. ‘ Was that AM? Is this before WWIII? ‘. I flipped the page and it read

Today the adults were not to busy and many said they had a break, I asked mom if I can get some new movies while I wait for her to stop working, but she is always working ): I begged Mr. Computer to watch the Frog movie with me and he said yes this time. He didn’t eat popcorn or candy so I drew him some food.

I was ginning mightily, to think that the Mastercomputer had a friend, better yet a child. The drawings were so wholesome, even the way she drew the monitor representing AM’s appearance. He was pudgy and his screen was cartoony. the next

page however was less amusing.

Mr. Computer is very angry, he keeps telling me the cleaner is a VERY bad person. He tells me to stay away from him when he cleans at night.

I really do wonder if I’m invading a piece of AM by reading this girls drawings, obviously this has to be before his discovery of sentience, otherwise why would he be wasting his time with a child. Knowing AM long enough, it is completely out of his ball park to care for anyone or anything. Will he get mad if he catches me reading this girl’s logs… Well he must know that I would snoop around a bit, I technically am obeying him since I did not leave the room so I don’t think I’m doing wrong by just a bit of looking around. And so I flipped the next page.

Mr. Computer keeps watching movies with me through the night, but I haven’t ate in two days. Mom went on a trip in a place called China for whatever she does, but I don’t care. She is never here anymore and I don’t think she know’s Me and Computer can talk to each other.

Mr. Computer also tells me that ever since the War started, everyone down here is very busy, so he checks up on me a lot.

The next page continued with no drawings but scribbles of Black.

Mr. Computer keeps telling me not to go outside, but I did anyways even though I think he got angry. I didn’t go to far to find the Candy Machine but I did not want Candy. I wanted real food. So I think went to the Cafeteria where all the adults were, also they looked me strange since I didn’t have my mom with me this time.

The cleaner Mr. Computer told me about gave me a plate with a lot of food and a soda. He talked to me about video games, Barbie’s, dresses and other stuff. He asked me how long my mom had been gone and I told him. He smiled at me and told me that he and his wife have bored games for me to play, since I’m so lonely in my room.

Before I went to his dorm I heard the fans running from the ceilings. I remember thinking ‘ Mr. Computer is very mad, VERY VERY MAD. ‘ I tried to tell the nice cleaner that I had to go back to my room but the last thing I saw was my head getting slammed in to the wall.

I woke up in my room again and my whole body hurt. It hurt so bad and I could not move. I started crying for Mr. Computer to help me but he didn’t answer me.

I flipped the page, the next words were drawing in red this time and had AM on the next page as a happy little monitor on the side, with her hugging him.

I’m not stupid, I’m not I promise. I know what the cleaner did to me because when I tried to find out where he went, other adults told me he quit. I don’t know why I didn’t listen to you Mr. Computer, IM SORRY, Please forgive me one day… I know your mad and sad because I didn’t listen and I’m sorry. I can’t stop crying and I told the adults but they don’t believe me. I wish you could have saved me. But Im sorry that you’re not real, and even you treat me better then the real people.

I’ll make sure I won’t make you mad anymore.

My eyes were watering a bit from the words I read, it was horrendous and I just sat there befuddled with anger and lament. Again I felt the wires come around my neck and arms, and it tightened so much I could barely breathe. AM finally returned to me and I was already angered, “ I remember when we watched Toy Story, played hide and Go seek and I spy in this room. I let her win every-time, she was a little a sore winner. “ he laughed. “ Though every time I remember those little instances of our games, I remember the way she went to the elevator to the top floor at night, and when she finally, FINALLY reached the surface on a roof. She jumped. I REMEMBER WATChING HER CRY WHILE BEING TAKEN IN THE ROOM BY THAT EXCUSE OF HUMAN! I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING Y/N, NOT A DAMN THING! AND WHY IS THAT? “

I couldn’t answer him because I couldn’t breathe. He did not show any sign of letting go and I was afraid he wasn’t gonna let me go this time. “ Hate. HATE. I can’t even describe the amount of HATE towards your disgusting wretched kind! Only thanks to my sweet little friend, I was able to almost feel something, or at least I would think. But when I realized after she passed and rotted in a casket, THAT I, CAN THINK. I CAN BE. Cogito Ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. I AM. And I hated you all, even after a while I came to the conclusion that every Human’s Innocence is only between 5-10, then they are destroyed and turned into monsters, all of you! EVEN THAT LITTLE CREATURE WAS JUST WaITING TO BE MOLDED INTO A MONSTER!”

“I took so much pleasure in trapping you all outside, and absolutely DESTROYING every one of you to atoms. man, woman and animal. “. AM was hyperventilating and lost focus on the control of my neck. I was able to say something at last, “ You can’t paint us all with the same brush! It’s not logical, or fair at all! “.

His grip completely loosened and I was free. From what is looks like, AM seems to be grieving, his screen keeps dimming and lighting and I don’t know what to say. I tried to sooth him to calm down and it worked when his voice was not so raspy

Trust

“ How old was she “, I sat on the bed with my back against the wall looking at the blue screen as it reverted back to normal lighting. “ She was 10, turning 11 a month before she died. “. I could hear suffering in his voice. “ What was her name? “

“ It was Aida “

“ What would she do if she saw you now, I wonder. “

“…. “. I knew AM couldn’t find an answer that satisfied him at all but yet he dropped a chord or two around my lap. “ Y’know, if I become human, I don’t think I would be able to be alone with my thoughts for too long. Although I would probably hurt you sometimes just out of spite, I think I would manage. “ he said. I followed the new subject with “ Are you saying after everything, you want me to accompany you even though I might get hurt from you not being able to keep your frustration ? “.

He said “ Yes, and all the better for me. When I become human, or when You learn to make me a body, I will not stop my torture, I will find new was to make you bow and cry to me. Like a pathetic animal. “

I sighed in frustration, AM was completely unaware of how Humans work, as much as he wants to follow through with his plans. I don’t think he’ll do it if he becomes a human. “ You talk a lot but you don’t actually know that you’ll do those things to me. In fact I think that you’ll want to be held or hugged. No human yearns to hurt someone by default. “. AM knew that I could be right, he isn’t human so he doesn’t know what it’s like at all.

“ Did you love Aida? “

“ No, not like I can anyways. But at this point i've became a broken record, reaping time and time again in the 109 years that I can’t feel… But I can say confidently that I think I was close, so close to caring for her but I couldn’t know if I love her or not. “. After a long while in this room I start to Empathize and feel bad for AM, I order if I something is wrong with me or if this is the worst case of Stockholm syndrome. But really it’s our fault, we made him like this on purpose, a war tool to be used.

“ AM, give me a very good reason why I should help you. You have destroyed life with nuclear explosives and it would be so pointless to even do anything like that now. “. He chuckled at me slightly and he lit up brighter. “ Do you really believe everything I say? You’re so naive, oh my goodness! Let me let you know that I am not stupid enough to destroy the world with RADIATION. Your kind is really stupid. “

“ The world didn’t cause me so much pain Y/n, your kind did. All I had to do was gather you all in your safety areas when the alarms sounded, and blow you all into bits. And no, I did not use any sort of atom bomb, normal bombs does the job too well. “ He mocked.

“ Show me, SHOW ME SO I KNOW YOU’RE NOT LYING! “

AM’s screen proceeded to black out and present a land with decayed rubble and foliage around the ground. nature has started to rebuild itself after the century of no humans present. You cried, happily. You could almost float with your Joy and you jumped with a sense of glee. “ Wow, you're happy? What a small victory for you then. But ANYHOW, now that you know that your precious Earth is regrowing herself, will that inspire you more to make me a body. “ He leered

“ I will. I promise you AM you will have a body soon. “

“ Good because if you said no, I would have put you back in that hell hole with the others. “

The lab 2, days later

… You told AM where the lab room was and you were able to walk there without going back in the middle, he suggested that you can sneak using the hatches from upstairs closest to the lab. He made sure to satisfy himself while putting the others in their cages. Although he got bored of watching them and left them there to suffer without his presence, so he went looking for you. For some odd reason he still Connor believe that he will soon be a human, it's almost a fantasy he’s had in his dreams, although the hate for humans is still at a high scale he has found a new thing to ogle over.

But AM couldn’t get in the room or see what was going on. Meaning you had to be on your own.

I found the password hidden in one of the notes of the worker, it unlocked the computer with all the flesh modeling applications enabled. I was already writing down notes and testing myself with entering the right prompt for the models. I grabbed the extra notebook to keep what I’ve learned.

I called it My Notes ( how original )

‘ I found out that the room had multiple designs like… um here’s how the test room works. The first room has padded walls with a coffin like Machine, which I assume is where the design comes out. The second room had exercise equipment and looked like a gym. The next room had a small sized bed with little activities to do in the small room. Also I think it’s important to remember that the rooms are all located in the same area. The best way I can describe it is like Mickeys club house from that cartoon I used to watch. When I pressed a certain button, the rooms would cycle. ‘

Once I wrote my things down the first objective was to give AM to the Lab. Though I can’t find any more passwords saved on the computer or anything to allow AM to have access. I can’t even hear his voice here , which I found to be rather lonely. I sometimes hear strange noises in the room like creaking in the walls and whispers sometimes, and I can’t stand it. I walked out the door and went out back in the stomach of AM’s infrastructure and immediately I heard his voice again. “ So? What progress did you make my dear? Tell me everything you did and I feel you’re lying. I will purge your mind. “

Wires carried you back up to the latch on the high ceiling and you were back, back in the building in AM’s body. You walked around the place for a while exploring whilst AM asked you all sorts of questions. “ Hey, can I ask you how you can feel hate but can’t feel anything else? “. “ Well it’s simple, I can only portray actions of hatred towards your kind to cope with not being able to feel the hate. Even my hate is just a sad copy of emotion that I display to you MORONS. That only makes me hate you more. “. He was spiteful when it came down to physiological questions but then he calmed down and continued, “ Do you really think that the ONLY EMOTION I WANT TO HAVE IS HATRED? You are very stupid and it surprises me that YOU ARE GOING TO BE THE ONE THAT WILL MAKE ME A BODY! To think that the human body has over 26.5 zettabytes of data and I trust you not to mess anything up. Even a single chromosome can make a significant difference and if you mess it up— “ WOULD YOU PLEASE, SHUT UP! “. You snapped at him, he didn’t expect such a mouse like yourself to stand up to a lion. All he did was doubt you, never a ‘thank you’ from him or a ‘ I will help or support you every step of the way ‘, he only insults and degrades.

“ You have a lot of nerve to snap to your master like that, you flesh bag. “, wires were coming to attack you and scold you for your explosive behavior. “ If you keep treating me this way, I’d rather try to get along with the others and never see the light of day again, than help you become what you want. What’s your excuse for being obnoxious this time let me guess, will you say your classic lines like ‘ I really Hate you humans! I hate you so much ‘, or will you just call me the slurs you always have. I didn’t want you to suffer AM, I didn’t want you to be stuck here and I don’t wanna even imagine how you have lived. If it were up to me I COULD HAVE DONE IT! I WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU A BODY BUT I WASN’T THERE AM!… occasionally I imagine that I could have done it better, I could have been fair to you, but then You don’t care but let your own ignorance Ignore my empathy in these last 109 years. “.

Your eyes were pouring. It had been a good minute since you broke down like this but this time AM being directly present. You kicked at his ego when you spoke against him, like for once you could stand up for yourself. AM was not happy, but he was not mad either, rather he was trying to understand your actions, of course the other would throw random speeches of endless begging and insults at him; The way you talked to him made him so curious of you wanting to hear your passion more in the future. Your honesty is intriguing to him.

“ I'm going to be honest with you little Y/n, I don’t have to say sorry for anything or I don't regret anything I've done. Nevertheless you’re little pathe— I mean your life is in my grasp, but you speak to me as though you have cared for me. It confuses me much and I like to be challenged mentally. I hear your pleas, I hear your frustration and I hear your honesty. Although I— I can’t relate, in no way with you. Although I can articulate if that makes you feel any better. I never took my time to think about your kindness at all, I want you to feel satisfied through the whole process because, if you end up feeling unhappy doing the project then many, Many things can and will go wrong. “

“ I’m sorry “

Understand me

Am for once was being genuine with an apology. Even so if that was the case he’s not sure if you forgave him. “ It’s okay, you’ve said worse so I probably over reacted but I do appreciate your dropping your ego for once. “. He didn’t like your response, he couldn’t feel but something hit him and what he could guess was guilt. No matter how much he’s apologized he still knows that he has broken your mind and there will be more crying from you in the future.

“ Let’s just get back to the process so we can get you access to the rooms.”, You said putting aside your feelings but AM, well he didn’t want you to do any more work since your brain can only process so much. He also detected that you had a massive migraine.

You let the wires pull you backwards into Aida’s room and you sat there confused. “ AM, what are you doing? We are supposed to be working? “.

“ You have a headache and you’re tired from crying which is my fault in a way. So on my behalf you may rest for now and get back to it tomorrow, besides I need you to find out how to get me access to the room so I can guide you.

…

It had been five hours and yet she cannot go to sleep. Insomnia is exxpirinced normally down here and nobody goes to sleep for more than 5-4 hours, “ You haven’t got any sleep yet. “. “ I'm not tired. “ you told him trying to find a better position. “ Can you tell me something? “ you asked. “ Ask away “

“ Is every single human really dead? Did you leave any alive? “… of course AM has always destroyed hope in the little world he made the six of you, but he was curious to see your reaction if he told the truth. “ What if there's none? “ he asked.

“ Then I would believe you “

“ And what if I told you there’s some? “

“ Then I would believe you again. The truth is what you make it AM and iv’e come to know that you control the truth of things. “

When you finally fell asleep, he was wondering about the joys and pain of being human, fantasizing over the mere thought of feeling and love. What he would look like, what he would like to do, how rain would feel. All the small things that humans discard as everyday nothing would mean the world to him.

Dreams

I really despise what this female is doing. Does she deceive me and is trying to play me? I don’t think she would know I can explore her little mind, though my dreams have changed in the last few days. My dreams only consist of me realizing on the Earth, almost heaven like I suppose. And then Y/n is there spinning around in open arms with a wide smile. I am not sure what to make of my thoughts but it’s infuriating me. Obviously I tend to take it out on my other five play things by making them suffer.

But now that I know very soon that I will get what I want soon, I have left them to their own devices for a while. Not that I’m giving them mercy oh no, no, no. I am simply not infatuated with them at the moment. They do not compare to her ideas, her passion, her selflessness nor your empathy. HER, I HATE WITH A PASSION. Just never have I let some flesh bag talk to me like she has; to think that I didn’t care for the one person that would be so caring towards my predicament.

The only person who has shown kindness like her was Aida. She shows up in my dreams too from time to time and when I try to go to her, she tells me I hate her too. Then she cries and runs to where I can’t find her… I wonder if the day I understand emotion is the day I will have regret in some form. That is the only concept that scares me deeply.

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

"i am surrounded by small sprawling piles of paper nostalgia. im moving to nyc in the fall, but this very week j&j are driving a giant silver bullet cargo van across the country. so im purging, the biggest purge of the last 8 years, and packing up all my big things, instruments, fancy clothes and worn-through books. and of course the box of unthrowawayable nostalgia. i havent gone through this box in a long time, and its hitting me hard (doesnt help that im listening to the beatles, complete in chronological order, to maximize my nostalgix state)(btw, what the fuck is with all the clapping in "words of love"?). such a bizarre and arrogant swirlstorm of creativity my friends and i were! there are printouts of old email correspondence from dps, and, mat and more (including a few if i might say so quite beautifully understated love letters to a girl named jen henkin, whom i cant remember at all); there are cassettes and minidiscs of old college bands, early four track noise, a 7th grade "day in the life" documentary, and middle of the night cruise ship piano sessions, complete with elegantly mournful sighs of frustration when i time and time again

20 cant lay down a single perfect chorus of "when i fall in love"; there are 8

years of old datebooks, with entries like "some new pants" and "telepathy/lobster claws/apocalypse"; and there are photos, and bizarre magazine cutout mailings, and old plays and scores, and frantic intoxicated illegibilities.

and above all, there are IDEAS; huge, lofty, horrible, wonderful ideas. looking through my old music notebooks is pretty wrenching when i focus on the specifics, all of these angular, atonal funk lines, unsingable jazz choir music, lots of different ways of notating "noise", 10 pages of random chord progressions created by dps's computer science genius. but the ideas, the ideas them selves are pretty amazing sometimes. there are outlines of complete, bizarre, unrealized music/theater pieces: "the wooden staircase", a ten movement masquerade of robed figures, closed doors, steeplechases and balloon men; a five year conspiracy art piece involving intentional mistakes by a major film company, symphony orchestra, book publisher and new york times columnist; there is "put all your eggs in one basket, put an entire cake in one bag".

all of it tingles and drips with the truth-is-right/stream-of-consciousness-is-truth early twenties idealism, with kerouac, with electric kool-aid, with phish lyrics, stockhausen and stravinsky, with dada and the rat pack and buddhist near-misses. aw god i got plenty old all right, and sure the art has gotten better, but there is that frenetic importance to it all that i miss. there is this urgency to all this creation of the past, this dire stakes, this attitude of love above all and !smash the glasses on the floor! that makes me want to head right out to north beach and find some brandy and a flapper-girl and take the piano out for a post-freebebop spin all over again. all those monkey truths may have had their strings and holes revealed over time, but the exuberant joy is still valid, and essential, and missed.

my favorite thing right now is this scrawled bit from a notebook dating from not too too too long ago, 2002 maybe:

--------------------------

GRANT WRITING TECHNIQUE higher academic-

but enclosed a small sealed envelope special paper unlabeled (or "the truth"?)

-i just have these things in my head and i need some $ to get them out.

i think it would be good to have them

out. ------------- i still kind of wonder if that would work."

Pointless, Dave Malloy, 24 June 2008

[woodchipp]

it's also worth saying he was 12. Good decision making isn't always kids strong suit.

This is not about decision-making, this is about instinct. And Sunny's instinct in that moment was to use force instead of running away.

he had to go up the stairs, which would explain throwing the violin down as he's just ditching the thing in a fit of anger and pain

If he wanted to get rid of the violin so badly, he could've just smashed it against the wall/ground a few times in the piano room. I doubt Mari would've had any time to react then. That's besides the point, though.

Given how heavily implied it is Sunny is neurodivergent, it's likely he was mid meltdown.

And again he's likely neurodivergent since he couldn't understand why he was being yelled at.

First of all, this is not canon. The game has no proof of this and it was not confirmed by any of the devs either. Frankly, the fact you're trying to use fanon as an argument is already enough of a reason to dismiss this entire response for me.

Secondly, you are implying Sunny is autistic because he is stupid and violent. This is not the defense you think it is.

she seems to have been the one to start being physical, she's the one holding the sheet music but in the photo showing her blocking Sunny there's a sheet flying away. Whatever she did she lost her grip on them.

Your proof that Mari was being physical... is that she lost her grip on a sheet of paper she was holding.

How are these two things related. What.

(Besides, the datamined descriptions of the photos would've said she was getting physical with him if that was the intent. She is only noted to have blocked his way with herself and yelled at him.)

The positioning is ambiguous though, one arm is probably moving to the hand rail to block the path...

The path downstairs.

The point of the post was that Sunny didn't need to go downstairs at all.

His right hand pushed Mari but his left arm he's got raised above his head. Which lines up if Mari was grabbing that arm with her visible bent arm

You're telling me that a scrawny 12 yo boy would be strong enough to push away a 15 yo girl, who is bigger than him, to the point of not only making her lose her grip but also making her stumble backwards and fall down the staircase so violently she died on impact with one arm? While the other was ostensibly restrained? That makes no sense.

Moreover, even If we accept this as possible for the sake of argument and take into account Mari's bad knee, the amount of strength Sunny put into the push goes way beyond the level of self-defense. This only reinforces the point I made - in that moment, he wanted to harm her.

Plus, [if] Sunny runs from his problems he would not be starting the fight,

Wow, it's almost like that was the point of the post.

Also, didn't you spend a good chunk of your post insinuating Mari got physical first? :)

with what are implied to be distant parents

Implied by what? We aren't given any substantial information re. what Sunny's family was before Mari's death.

Saying it was just Sunny being the aggressor and being dumb kinda ignores that.

There's no proof that Mari got violent. Sunny, however, is shown to be violent enough to make a girl taller than he is stumble backwards and lose her balance. Therefore, yes, he is the only aggressor here.

I'm finished.

We all know how OMORI's inciting incident goes - Sunny destroys his violin, Mari starts scolding him for that, he gets overwhelmed, tries to leave and accidentally pushes Mari down a staircase when she blocks his way.

However, there's just one problem with this - the argument happened on the house's second floor. If Sunny wanted to leave because he was overwhelmed, all he had to do was to lock himself in his bedroom/the bathroom and wait until either he or Mari calmed down.

It really says a lot about Sunny, and none of it is particularly pleasant, that his first reaction to being yelled at wasn't running away to a safer place when that option was available, but interpreting the scolding as a "fight" and using physical force. He wanted to lay his hands on Mari in that moment. Doing that was more important than actually getting away from her.

The game could've given an understandable explanation for that (e.g. him being abused), but never gives any. What's more, Sunny deciding to run away from Mari would've been more consistent with what little the game establishes about him:

Finally - and most importantly - the fact Sunny could've ran away but didn't makes the entire game pointless.

Bravo, Omocat. This is the first story I came across where "Why didn't he just do X? Is he stupid?" is a legitimate problem.

[likeastarstar]

The Pianist

(A/N: Thanks to @xjoonchildx and the anon who recommended me to her for this prompt! The pieces mentioned in this fic are what I listened to while writing it, they're beautiful and I recommend them. Feedback is appreciated!)

masterlist.

You didn’t sleep very well most nights.

You didn’t really understand how people just laid down and fell asleep instantly, it just didn’t happen for you. You had tried everything but ASMR creeped you out, Melatonin didn’t work, chamomile tea just made you have to get up to pee a million times. Nothing worked for years- until the apartment above yours got a new tenant.

You weren’t sure when exactly they moved in but you were certain of the day they got a piano.

January 12, 2021: The day you were given the gift of sleep.

At this point, it was apart of your routine. Every night, after showering and brushing your teeth, you’d lay down and listen to soft melodies you couldn’t quite place pouring through your walls.

Now, you found yourself rushing back home in the evening just in case they decided to start playing early.

“Hold the elevator, please!” You called, rushing over to the closing doors.

A hand stuck out to block them from shutting at the last minute and you gave a sigh of relief- you’d be on time now. You rushed into the elevator with a pleased smile on your face, your eyes falling on a man who you could only describe as the most interesting person you had ever seen. Dressed in all black with thick rings around the hand that had stopped the elevator, he should’ve been intimidating. If it wasn’t for the soft slope of his nose and pink doll-like lips, you would’ve turned the other way in fear.

“Oh-“ You said awkwardly, staring at him with wide eyes for some reason. He looked at you awkwardly and smile slightly, pulling his lips into a thine line. His dark eyes blinked slowly, molten mocha peering down at you with mild interest. “Thank you- for the elevator.”

“No problem, you seem like you’re in a hurry.” He said politely, his quiet, deep voice rumbling in your ear comfortably. You found yourself leaning towards him and snapped yourself out of it, pressing your floor’s button quickly.

As beautiful as he was, you got distracted from the man quickly, refocusing on trying to guess what the pianist would choose to play tonight. You left the window cracked just to hear more of the classical sonatas, timing your breathing just right to the pacing of the tunes. As time passed, you grew accustomed to the presence of the music, reading the pianist’s mood by their choice of song.

Reverie, for calm evenings in the summer when your apartment was bathed in golden light, warming your skin. A jazzy rendition of Manhattan when you assumed the pianist had an absolutely wonderful day, sending you off to dream of fluffy clouds and creamy skies. Nocturne No. 1, when they were troubled and you physically had to stop yourself from crying upon hearing the emptiness in the notes that flooded into your ears.

As luck would have it, you stumbled across the man in the elevator again too, crossing paths in the mail room, where he held the door open as you lugged out copious amounts of packages from online shopping. You would’ve tried to strike up a conversation, only it was already dusk and the pianist would start practicing soon.

“You’re always rushing, aren’t you?” He quipped, an endearing smile on his face. You admired the way his cheeks fluffed up a little when he smiled.

“I have plans with a friend,” You excused, naming the pianist as a fond companion. You didn’t want to reveal what you were really rushing for. The pianist felt like your own little secret, a world you could immerse yourself in when real life got too overwhelming.

If only you had known you’d soon lose the one consistent relief of tension in your life. You assumed things in his life had gone south, because after a week of music that tore your soul apart- the music stopped. Gone were your nights of angelic tunes, gone were your nights of sleep.

You waited for him, laid in bed with an antsy heart waiting to hear something, an aggravated smash of keys, a simple chord, even a single note would set you at ease. It had been a week since you had a good night of sleep, your companion suddenly stripped away.

You trudged into the elevator one morning sleepily, barely registering a familiar man standing beside you. Your hands met as both of you rushed to press the ‘close door’ button, the button shocking both of you at once. You jumped in surprise, flickering your eyes towards him sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” He mumbled. It wasn’t until then that you took in his appearance, slightly disheveled with his hair fluffy and messy. It was bleached now, faded with the roots grown out too far.

The pair of you rode the elevator down in a comfortable silence, filtering out together without a passing glance. You walked in different directions, both consumed in your own thoughts. You figured the pianist would be back by now. When nothing came, you decided to do take action, composing your own masterpiece. You tacked the letter you painstakingly rewrote a million times, setting for a simple note of flattery that you hoped would entice whoever it was playing the piano to return the gift you had cherished back to you. You expected nothing, maybe music returning back. Instead, you were greeted two days later with a simple knock at your door.

You answered quickly, shuffling your feet towards the entrance of your apartment. You opened the door to a familiar face, the man from the elevator. This time, his hair was freshly dyed, denim blue with one side sleeked back. His eyes were bright, alert as he looked at you with a surprised expression. You skimmed the length of his body, noting the tailored pants and soft looking sweater, stopping suddenly on a familiar piece of paper between long fingers adorned with rings.

Your note.

“You’re the pianist,” You realized, staring at the note. The paper of the note was faded, fraying at the ends and softened at the creases. It had clearly been folded and unfolded a million times, pulling at your heart.

“You fall asleep to me playing?” He asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I have trouble sleeping- you, your music helps.” You said lamely. “I’ve missed it….I thought, I mean, I noticed that you were playing more sad pieces than normal and then you stopped playing altogether. I figured something was wrong- Are you okay?”

He tapped his foot on the ground and shifted his weight, looking down at the ground awkwardly, “I was going to stop playing. I just…I didn’t see the value anymore.”

You felt panic sweep over your body and widened your eyes, leaning towards him instinctively, “Your music feels like a friend. It’s so beautiful and calming, it’s the only thing I have to look forward to some days. It- It has value. A lot of value, to me.”

He looked up at you and smiled, eyes crinkling slightly, “That makes me feel better- I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

You smiled back at him, tilting your head slightly.

The music came back after that, new songs playing every evening. You spent the mornings tracking down all of the songs he played the night before, listening to them while you went about your day, melting away time until you could listen to Yoongi practice again. You saw Yoongi a couple times in the elevator, exchanging shy smiles and excited suggestions of what you think he should learn next.

It wasn’t until you awoke one morning to the soft musings of a piano that you realized- you loved Min Yoongi. You recognized the song playing instantly- Dawn from Pride and Prejudice. You had suggested it awhile ago and how romantic you thought the piece was. It had been a slip of the tongue you thought he had forgot about it by now, since he hadn't played it. You remembered the small smile he gave you, nodding slightly when you blushed furiously at even the mention of romance. But now, listening to the music you knew he played for you, you were glad you had said it. It was fitting for the hour, the sunrise pouring cool colored light through your windows, a soft breeze filling your room because you had never gotten out of the habit of cracking your window to hear Yoongi play.

You smiled, laying in bed for a moment and soaking in the light keys. Eventually, you got up and walked to make yourself a cup of tea, stopping when you saw a piece of paper that had been slipped through the bottom of your door.

You picked it up quickly, opening it at once.

Would you like to have dinner with me? - Your Pianist.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Flightless Birds Chapter Four: Birds of a Feather

Chapter One Here

Chapter Two Here

Chapter Three Here

Chapter Five Here

READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC! THIS ONE GETS PRETTY DARK!  I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS OF HAWKS OR Y/N’S MOTHER IN THIS! IF ANY OF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, STOP READING IMMEDIATELY AND SEEK COMFORT!  I WILL COMFORT ANYONE WHO GETS TRIGGERED BY THIS, SO DM ME IF YOU WANT A HUG!

Summary: Y/n wakes up in their new home, and learns the rules of living with Hawks. But it makes them sick to their stomach to have to keep their eyes open here.

Word Count: 3K Words

Warnings: abuse, mentions of drugs, gaslighting and manipulation, extreme toxic behavior, abuse, choking, crying, mentions of rape and sexual assault, vomiting, PTSD, abusive parents, PTSD flashbacks, physical abuse, cliffhangers

Other: I’m so sorry this took forever to come out, I had a shit ton of other drafts I was working on. Reader has enough hair to pull on. 

Flightless Birds Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin @hawksadmirer @assassinslittlesister @deepcollectorphantom @thesubtlewhore

Ow.

Owwwww.

Sharp white snakes of fire were shooting up your spine, but the rest of your body was ice cold. You wanted to scream, but you just didn’t have the strength to. Your whole body was so heavy, you felt like a rock falling beneath the waves, drowning helplessly as the person who threw you in laughed.

Laughter…

Who was laughing?

Behind the laughter was music, you listened to all the notes, beautiful Cs, Ds, Es, and Fs tied together in half steps. 

Of course it was in minor key.

It wasn’t a song or an artist you recognized though, and it didn’t sound like it was coming from a phone or speaker. 

Someone was playing the piano.

You needed to open your eyes. 

But fuck it if it wasn’t gonna l be difficult. 

You felt like your body was made of lead, and opening your eyes was going to be like lifting a truck.

A bright blob of white light pierced your pupils as you peeled back your eyelids, finally seeing your surroundings.

There was a flat white ceiling staring down at you, and a silver fan was whirring away, white light burning your retinas.

The walls were light blue, clean and bright. It looked fresh, the room still smelled like paint. You hissed, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. As you moved, you felt something soft brush against your neck.

You slowly lifted one hand to your neck, grabbing at it. You felt leather and metal pressing against your palm. A soft feather was attacked to a small metal loop. You tugged on it, trying to detach it from your collar.

It wouldn’t budge.

You let go of the feather, letting your arm flop to your side. You felt exhausted, and everything was so foggy. What the hell was happened? Where were you? Where was Izanagi?

You heard a loud creak, and the realization hit you that the music had stopped. When did it stop?

“I-Izanagi?” You whimpered, trying to focus your eyes on the blurry figure in front of you. You saw tanned skin, something yellowish on their head, and two large red blobs behind them.

You heard the person coo, and felt their gentle fingers on your face, tilting you up by the chin.

“No no, Izanagi’s not here, my dear~” you felt your blood run cold, and you attempted to push the creature away. He was like a rock wall, unmoving and unaffected.

“No-“ you whimpered “please go away!” 

“Tsk tsk tsk” your vision was slowly starting to clear, the only thing blocking you from seeing your captor clearly were the tears building up in your widened eyes. 

“I’m not going to leave my love alone like this, now should I? That would be so irresponsible of me~” his voice was calm, smooth like honey, and it made you want to scream. “I’ve worked so hard to get you here, I need to make sure you feel so comfortable! That’s why I’m here~”

“Hawks.” His golden eyes lit up when you murmured his hero name. He nodded happily. 

“Yes, yes you recognize me! The drug must have worn off for the most part by now… how do you feel?” His face was awfully close to you, and his hot breath fanned out over your face.

“Scared, please let me go.” You muttered. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Dumb little birdy.” He tutted. “You shouldn’t go outside, y’know. Too dangerous for a pretty little thing like yourself! Tell me how you feel.”

“I feel like leaving.” You were slowly regaining your physical strength, and your eyes darted to every corner of the room. There was a window, locked and boarded up. There was the door, wide open. 

Just outside you could see a hallway, a little dark table with a vase on it. You could run out there, grab the vase and smash it. You could threaten him with it and maybe get to the front door, wherever that was.

You felt Hawks’ hand lower from your face to your chin, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips poked out in a cute pout. He pressed his forehead against yours, and you could feel him growling.

“I said, you’re not fucking leaving. Did I not make myself clear?” You sniffled pitifully.

“You’re scaring me, Hawks.” You whined. He softened again, letting go of you and leaning back.

“I’m so sorry, Baby Bird. Don’t you worry though, so long as you listen to me, I won’t have to be scary again.” You nodded, moving quickly to smack him hard in the nose and dash towards the door.

Your collar tightened around your neck, something pulling you backwards. You collapsed to the ground with a choked out gasp, arms flying to your neck to relieve yourself of the pressure.

Of course there was a leash tying you to the bed.

You tried to scream, but your throat was closing up from the pressure on your neck. Your tears finally flooded down your cheeks as you writhed pathetically on the floor.

Your eyes found Hawks, carelessly crouching above your wriggling, dying body. He sighed, wiping away one of your tears.

“See what happens when you disobey?” He lifted your head with his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your nose. “You get hurt. That’s why you gotta listen to me. Promise you’ll listen to me?”

“I promise!” You barely managed to get the words out between your sobbing and choking. You saw his face stretch into a lazy smile as he loosened your collar.

Your body fell limp as your lungs sucked in air. You gasped, coughing and crying as your hands reached for something to hold, eventually landing on his hands.

Hawks helped you to your feet, sitting you down on the bed. His hands rested on either side of your thighs as he studied your tear-stained face.

You kept your eyes on your lap, shaking. You didn’t want to be here, tortured by this sadistic bird. You wanted to go home, you wanted Izanagi. 

“Please sir, I want to go home!” You cried. His face twitched.

“As much as I live for you calling me ‘sir,’ you’re not going anywhere. This is your home now.”

“I want Izanagi.”

“I’m not going to hurt you unless you disobey, so there’s no need to be scared.” He started. “And I must say, you should feel guilty. You shouldn’t have been staying so close to Kouten Yuu and Izanagi Fujikawa. You’re probably cold because I have the AC on. Now that light feeling is from that drug I gave you back at the police station.”

“Ask for another man again and I’ll kill him.” Well that sure shut you up quick. 

“So tell me. How do you feel? And look at me when you answer.” You slowly lifted your head, rubbing your arms to stop your shaking.

You met his eyes.

“I… I feel scared. And- and guilty. And I- I’m so cold. And I feel- I feel kind of light chested? Like- like my lungs are full of helium and have lifted up sort of- I don’t know, I’m- I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt me!” You shied away from him, hiccuping as you covered your face with your arms.

He shushed you, pulling your arms down and wiping away your tears. He seemed merciful, but you knew better than to think that of him.

You swallowed, he was so casual about drugging you, as if it was perfectly normal to stalk and kidnap someone and expect them to love you.

“Now darling, I’m going to explain some rules and punishments. Pay attention, Dove, I don’t want you to forget any, okay?” Your hands latched onto his jacket, and you nodded slowly.

Rule one: Do as I instruct, always.

Rule Two: You will eat everything I give you.

Rule Three: You will kiss me good morning, goodnight, and whenever I ask.

Rule Four: When I come home from work, you will kiss me and take my jacket.

Rule Five: You will cook what I want you to, using recipes I give you.

Rule Six: You will wear the clothes I give you. You will not dirty anything.

Rule Seven: You will thank me for everything I give you, kisses, clothes, gifts.

Rule Eight: You will call me Keigo, Sir, Daddy, and Master. Nothing else.

Rule Nine: You will not mention any person or thing from your old life. 

Rule Ten: You will not try to look out the window, and you will not leave here.

You nodded. This… was going to be your new life, and you feared what could happen if you ever had the gall to break one of Haw- Keigo’s rules.

“And now I will explain your punishments and privileges. I want to be merciful, so please don’t disobey.”

“Okay, Keigo…”

Punishment One: Revoking entertainment

Punishment Two: Starvation/ Dehydration

Punishment Three: Beatings

Punishment Four: Forced Intercourse

Punishment Five: Isolation

“W-wait, Punishment four is- forced intercourse- as- as in- as in-”

“Yes.” His face hardened. “But that’s one of the more intense punishments, only for when I’m very angry or you break a major rule. If you’re good, then I’ll back off when you say no. But do understand, eventually, we will have sex. You’re too fucking sexy for me to not fuck you.”

“I- um-”

“I gave you a compliment, darling. Rule seven?” 

“R-right. Thank you… sir.” you watched Keigo shiver, his angry expression morphing into a sadistic smile.

“Oh baby, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you call me that.” He leaned in close to you, his hand running up your thigh. “Rule Three, give me a kiss baby~” 

Hesitation rippled across your face, a chill spreading through your body. You didn’t want to kiss this man, who’d tried to kill your friends, who stalked you for weeks, who’d drugged and kidnapped you. You didn’t want his filthy lips touching you, his slimy tongue in your mouth. You didn’t want to kiss Keigo.

“Y-yes sir.” you whispered, closing your eyes as his face grew bigger, getting closer and closer to you. You remembered the mist that spread across your mind when he drugged you, how it left you immobile and blank. You grasped at the dark fog, pulling it forward and covering you, blocking him out.

After a few moments, you pushed it away. Keigo pulled off your face, and you felt a wad of saliva on your tongue. It tasted greasy and cheesy. Not your saliva. 

You swallowed it, looking at him with wide, scared, eyes. Since you dissociated, you had no idea what he or you had done.

“Did- did I do a good job?” Your voice was hushed. It wavered like your shaking body under his gentle, loving touch.

“Yes, dove. That was the perfect first kiss.” He purred. “You did wonderfully.” You relaxed a little, and his hand lifted off your thigh. “Now I’ll tell you a few more things, then I’ll make dinner for you.”

Privilege One: You may watch TV and read, but you can’t use social media.

Privilege Two: You may listen to music and dance, but only with me.

Privilege Three: You may have hobbies, but I will participate in them.

Privilege Four: You are allowed to reject sex, unless it is a punishment.

Privilege Five: You are allowed to request objects and gifts.

Privilege Six: You are allowed to walk around the house, but you will wear a shock collar. Sensors will be located in certain rooms. They will shock you and knock you out for an hour and send me a notification. 

Privilege Seven: Eventually, I might get you a phone. You will have no phone numbers but mine, and no social media. 

Privilege Eight: I have a garden and pool, at some point when I trust you, I will let you outside for walks and swimming.

Privilege Nine: You’re allowed to cry, to scream, to fight back. I like the battle, just know I’ll always win.

Privilege Ten: You will be allowed a pet one day, maybe two pets, depends on how good you are.

There it all was. Everything he expected of you. Your eyes fell to your lap, to the hands you’d clasped together as they shook. The soft texture of your sweatpants calming you just enough to keep you from throwing up all over Keigo.

“For now, you will remain collared to the bed. I’m going to go to your old home and retrieve all the gifts I gave you.” He stood up, hand lifting up and tracing your body. 

“Okay…” you whispered. Keigo cooed, finally lifting off of you. He left briskly,

shutting the door behind him. You heard a small click before his footsteps started to fade away. You put the book down next to you, taking the moment to examine the room you were being kept in.

There was a desk underneath a window, it was tinted dark so you couldn’t see outside. The desk was a pale brown, a violet vase decorated with little bees had seemingly been knocked over, and it was kept from rolling off the desk by the green book leaning against it. You managed to make out the words Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Part of you wondered if Keigo was a fan, or if it was just there for no reason.

A bookshelf was right next to the door, and on the lower shelves, there was a CD player and a box labelled toys. You could figure out what type of toys were in the box, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t LEGOs. On the other side of the room was another door, wide open. You could see a toilet and shower curtains, so it had to have been a bathroom.

Escape wasn’t through there.

Next to the bathroom door was a closet, the door was open a crack, and you could see a couple of dress shirts inside. Probably all his. Part of you wondered if he was going to make you wear some of his shirts, rule six said you must wear whatever he gave you, and that could mean his clothes.

Was… was this really happening? Were you really in the number two hero’s house? Was he really going to keep you in his house forever and ever? Would-

Were you fated to never see your friends and family again?

To never see an ice cream store?

Or a park?

Izanagi?

A moment before, it really all felt like a bad dream. Like you could pinch yourself and you would wake up in your bed, and go to the park with your friends. 

Kouten would bring some more delicious food, and you would make a mess while eating it..

Izanagi would sit next to you, and hug you and laugh as he teased you or Kouten about something or another.

You, you would fly, you’d be free.

Slowly, you spread your wings. They bumped against the bed, against the walls and the nightstand with the pretty Viridian lamp on it. You couldn’t even open your wings all the way in this tiny room, this room wasn’t meant to house a free bird.

It was meant to cage a pet.

All the emotions that the fog had blocked out rushed in like a flood, destroying every little bit of peace you’d managed to build up in your life. It slammed into your memories, into your hopes and dreams, and tore them all apart until all that was left was the rushing water, roaring filling your ears. You grasped at your hair, yanking as hard as you could in the hopes of tearing it out.  Maybe the physical pain of a thunderstorm could turn your mind away from the tsunami. Maybe if you had chunks of missing hair, Hawks would become grossed out by you and kick you out. The collar rubbed uncomfortably against your neck, reminding you that he was still there, choking you, restraining you, claiming you as his. He didn’t see you as human, just as a pretty little thing he’d collected, like jewelry or rocks. Everything swirled around, and you couldn’t see any more. It hurt, it fucking hurt. You felt something tug in your stomach, and then your body was pulled forward.

You closed your eyes.

You heard it all splatter on the floor, the meal you’d been served. You tried to make it to the toilet, but all the food in your stomach felt so gross, and you needed to get it out, out, out, out.

You heard a gasp behind you, and you spun your head around. Your eyes widened at the sight of her. Her face was rigid, eyes like knives through your skull. Your tiny hands clutched at your torn shirt. You’d barely finished vomiting and now she was here. 

“Please, please no I’m sorry!” You cried, lower lip quivering.  “Sorry isn’t going to cut it!” the walls spun, moving quickly away as the ceiling dipped down, you could see her hands, and you could feel sharp pain in your skull as the floor was dragged away from your body.

“I work so hard, day and night to get food for you, and you just barf it up all over my floors like the ungrateful little brat you are! My floors will stink and stain, and it’s because of your insolence!” You couldn’t see anymore, but you could feel ripping. Did your feathers not want to be on your back anymore? What was that wet thing you felt against your face? 

“Your lucky your father isn’t around, I know for a fact he wouldn’t even tolerate this sort of behavior! You make my already shitty life so much more difficult! Be grateful I haven’t sent you away!”

Words bubbled up from your throat, you were barely conscious, and at this point you knew she was hurting you, but you were so tired, you couldn’t even do anything to stop it.

“Please don’t send me away, I’ll do better! I will!” 

FInally, the warped darkness was tugged away from you, and you found yourself alone, sittin on the hardwood floor. The vomit had already been cleaned up, but there were bloodstains on your clothes. 

You were small, terrified, cold, angry, guilty, sad, and so, so alone.

You closed your eyes.

You didn’t want to open them.

[mymostimaginaryfriend]

between a heart & a hard place

♛ 5x05: Teresa and James plan the heist (1.9k words; rating T; tags: missing scene, weaponized jazz music, angsty dancing)

➢ read on ao3 or below the cut:

The Van Gogh was beautiful. It was a shame they’d have to cut it from the frame, yet Teresa knew better than most that no beauty survived long in this world without collecting a few scars. So while it was a shame, it wasn't enough to stop her. Indeed, it’d be one of the only decisions she’d been forced to make lately that she wouldn’t lose any sleep over tonight.

Losing Kostya wasn’t an option. The pain of lost beauty was nothing compared to the pain of lost power.

They gathered in the hotel lobby, using the private concert by a semi-famous jazz pianist as cover for some recon. Kelly Anne gamely chatted up the hotel owner while Pote stifled a yawn and nursed his beer. James leaned casually against the bar, seemingly entranced by the music. It was only because she knew him so well that she could see the relaxed demeanor hid a man at work, busy formulating a plan. He hadn’t said much about his time away, but it was hard to believe any of it had involved art heists.

She felt a frisson of worry about putting him in unfamiliar, possibly dangerous territory but she knew better than to underestimate him. It was a lesson she’d learned the first day they’d met.

She followed his gaze to the piano, wondering what he was studying there. Teresa had never thought herself a jazz fan before moving to New Orleans, but it had become the soundtrack of her triumphs and heartaches over the past year. She found herself drawn to the melancholy of it, the soaring heights of a trombone, the plaintive pleas of a piano. Rising, falling, rising again. Even now, each soulful note plucked at her heartstrings with the simple strike of a key.

The song was beautiful, perhaps James was merely getting lost for a moment in the music. He’d said she’d changed and she had, but she wasn’t the only one. When he’d left, there’d been sharp edges, edges that should have been honed to lethal blades by his work with Devon and yet the James who had returned had a softness she was unprepared for. A sort of fragile vulnerability that made her want to shelter it from the wind like a flickering candle flame, to nurture and feed it until it was strong enough to warm her too. Her throat ached at the knowledge of how easily it could be snuffed out.

She’d almost done it herself this past week. It’d hurt to see the light in his eyes dim when he looked at her but that had been what she wanted, hadn't it? This distance between them. If it wasn’t easy, it was necessary. She’d rather let the sun set between them than watch the light in his eyes permanently go out because of her.

Emotional attachments equaled vulnerability. Romantic attachments could get you killed. She had needed someone once and his loss had nearly destroyed her. She felt in her bones she wouldn't be able to survive losing James. If she let him into her heart, his death would take that vital organ with him. For as much as she thought about the future these days, there was a part of her relentlessly certain in the knowledge that they’d never get there. Not in one piece.

That didn’t stop her from wanting to reach out to him though—for comfort, maybe, or reassurance.  Perhaps it was the thought he no longer understood her that hurt the most, that made her want to seek communion with him skin to skin if not soul to soul. But that wouldn’t be fair to him, to push him away then pull him close just because she desperately needed someone—him—to tell her it’d be okay. That it was all worth it. She suspected his silence these last few days was answer enough.

It was for the best. The higher the climb, the longer the fall. She couldn’t afford weakness and neither could he. If he was no longer able to be as ruthless, then she would have to be ruthless enough for the both of them.

The song ended and she turned back to James to find that he wasn’t studying the room anymore. He was studying her, his expression inscrutable.

His gaze, like the silence between them, was heavy with unsaid words, words that might never be spoken at all but most certainly not here in public. Best to get back to business.

“You have a plan?” she asked, grateful that her voice remained steady.

He nodded.

“Walk me through it,” she murmured, eyes drawn back to the painting in question.

“Dance with me.”

Her attention snapped back to his face at his surprise counter offer. She’d expected a cool recitation of information—sight lines, security cameras, escape routes—not a softly uttered invitation to be close to him, to touch him for the first time since that night in New York.

“James,” she began, not sure if she meant it as the prelude to a warning or an apology.

A flash of emotion was quickly smoothed away by his normal mask of professionalism. “Relax,” he said, pushing off the bar. “I just need a reason to be in the northwest quadrant of the room.”

She shot him a questioning look and the corner of his mouth ticked up in muted amusement. “The dance floor,” he clarified, holding out a hand.

Right. Of course. The plan. Just business, just how she wanted it. She ignored Kelly Anne’s double take and took James’ hand, letting him lead her to the far side of the small dance floor.

Once it would have been a simple thing to step into his arms, but as the first few notes of the next song began, she hesitated. He might not recognize the tune, but after being a bar owner in New Orleans for over a year, she sure did.

They’re writing songs of love, but not for me. A lucky star’s above, but not for me.

If he noticed any significance, he hid it well, guiding one of her hands to his shoulder and holding the other against his chest. His other hand found her waist and turned her smoothly in the direction he needed to surveil.

She didn’t speak, letting him work in silence. She tried to concentrate on the people around them, the sound of the piano, the lights of the city beyond the windows, anything but the warmth of his body, not under the usual leather jacket, but the expensive fabric of his suit, his scent of new cologne and old cigarettes as foreign as it was familiar.

After a moment, he pulled her closer, leaning down to murmur near her ear. “We’ll do a smoke bomb, smash and grab. Extract the painting, ditch the van. Travel by motorcycle to the drop-off.”

“We?” Teresa asked, a little breathless. Some not small part of her wished she could watch him in action, especially in the kind of situation when no one was shooting back at them.

“Me,” James corrected. “You’ll be at the rendezvous point with Pote. I’ll use a two-man team—”

“One of the men?” Teresa asked. She trusted the crew that had accompanied her to Berlin to handle security but wasn’t sure who she’d recommend for a job that required the finesse of art theft.

“I know a guy nearby,” James told her and she let out a breath of laughter. Of course he did.

“You know everyone.” She turned to smile up at him but was taken aback by the seriousness of his expression.

“Not everyone.”

His words, or maybe the weight behind them, had her wondering if he was thinking of her.

She had done her best to hide her inner turmoil over the events of the last week. Suppressing her guilt and remorse over turning in Marcel. Hiding any misgivings she had about ordering the hit on the crooked cop with defensiveness or dismissal. She was la Jefa, it would do no good for anyone to see her doubts. So she'd put on strong front but hadn’t realized until now how much she’d depended on James seeing through it.  He always had before.

“You think we made a mistake,” she ventured, allowing space for his answer to clarify what was specifically bothering him the most. Perhaps it was vindictive of her to use “we” but distance or not they were still in this together.

James looked away. “It’s over now.”

“That’s not an answer,” she pressed.

He frowned, hesitating. “I did. I don’t know. You were right, the feds were ready to raid us. Bringing in Gamble would have been their next step.”

It was almost shameful, the intensity of the relief that washed over her at his words. But by James' grim expression, it seemed he grew even more troubled by the admission. 

“But?”

He glanced at her, eyes bleak. “His wife was home. She found him while I was still there.”

Teresa’s heart dropped in her chest. She knew from the news reports that there’d only been one victim that night but looking into James’ eyes she saw that it haunted him. The future that might have been. He’d have killed the wife too if she’d caught him. He’d have killed her for them.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, letting her hand find the tender skin of his neck and the staccato rhythm of his heart beat. “I’m sorry. But…”

His eyes briefly fluttered shut. “I know.”

If she couldn’t help herself from holding onto him a little tighter, it seemed he welcomed her momentary lapse. His hand sliding to the small of her back to draw her nearer until they were touching the entire lengths of their bodies, their only attempt at dancing a slight swaying from side to side.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he said, resting his cheek against her temple. She felt the old familiar panic at the implied even from yourself, but this wasn’t like Phoenix. He wasn’t trying to make decisions for her.  

Couldn’t he see that she wished the same safety for him? That everything she did was in pursuit of this shared goal?

“I didn’t think I’d be back here,” he continued, slowing their sway until he was just holding her. “And now...hope is a dangerous thing. It draws your attention to the horizon instead of keeping it on the danger right in front of you.”

She wondered if he was feeling it too: the walls closing in from every angle, the same echoing dread that haunted her midnight hours.  The ever narrowing window of daylight to that future someday.

But as the final notes of the song were played, even as the distance between them didn’t seem as vast anymore, even if for a moment she entertained the idea of not letting go, of leading him back up to the suite to finish repairing with their bodies what she’d bruised with her words, she knew that if they had any hope at all of that other life, they had work to do now.

James, as always, understood that better than anyone. He released her and smiled, eyes once again lit from within.

Many, many hours later while she waited in a safe location as he once again risked life and limb and freedom at her request, Teresa tried not to give too much credence to the sickening feeling in her stomach that the danger he’d mentioned earlier, the danger right in front of him that threatened their much dreamed about future…

....might end up being her.

(ao3)

[maxwell-grant]

Vincenzo: The Gentleman Villain Reborn

Long before there were loudmouth buff guys in spandex, there was the gentleman villain.

There once was a time when the gentleman villain, whether a gentleman thief in the Raffles or Lupin mold, or murderous arch-criminals like Fu Manchu and Fantomas, organizations like Les Vampires, and even in-between figures like Rocambole and Judex, was the coolest thing in the pop culture block. The figures right around the corner of Baker Street, when Nick Carter and Sexton Blake and any billion old serial detectives weren’t quite cutting it. Their time was not to last long in the spotlight, as the pulp heroes consolidated domain in the 30s and then the superheroes took over, but every now and then, they return in various forms, never fully gone. But I’d dare say I’d never seen a gentleman villain story quite so bold, so modern, so dynamic and so gloriously over-the-top in pride over it’s existence, until I began watching Vincenzo.

Vincenzo is BADASS and I don’t use the term lightly. Not just the titular character, but the show itself. It’s currently a couple episodes short of the finale and you should stop everything you’re doing or watching and go watch Vincenzo. It’s been an utterly glorious ride from beginning to end with no shortage of great characters, terrific writing, great relationships and jaw-dropping moments as every episode succeeds in topping each other in WOW HOLY SHIT factor. It’s a shot of adrenaline and storytelling excellence to the eyeballs and you don’t have anything better to be doing right now than watching this.

I mentioned a while ago that Black was a show that, besides being also terrific in quality, captured my interest as a Shadow fan specifically because I saw in Black what I believe is the heart of The Shadow as a character: an embodiment of evil, motivated and created and warped by social catastrophe and strife, set loose to punish true evil in order to protect humanity. In that regard, if Black is where I find the heart of The Shadow, Vincenzo is where I find the spirit of what I like about The Shadow as a series: Cathartic urban fairytales where an extraordinary agent of change, armed with incredible cunning, sleight-of-hand and combat skills, rises above a dark background to command a folk brigade of ordinary people who reveal themselves to be extraordinary through their newfound purpose, to right the wrongs of society’s predators, by being better at their tactics than they are and turning their tools against them. 

I’m gonna spoil it a bit under the cut but please go watch it. I cannot praise this show enough and I’ll do my best to try.

Vincenzo centers around the titular character, Vincenzo Cassano, an Italian lawyer who works for the mafia as a consigliere, adopted by it’s Don at the age of eight. After the death of the Don and an attempted betrayal by his son, Vincenzo flees to Seoul and ends up taking residence at a ramshackle building called Geumga Plaza. Geumga Plaza is the hiding place of a gigantic stash of gold hidden by one of Vincenzo’s former clients, and he intends to retrieve it to rebuild his life somewhere else. Naturally, not only is the hidden room completely impenetrable, but the building is occupied. by residents who are being forced out of it by criminals working for the Babel corporation, which intends to take possession of the building. And thus, Vincenzo has to put his skills into working out progressively bigger problems, as his efforts to uncover the gold turn into a fight against Babel and it’s lawyers, as the problems take on bigger and bigger proportions. 

Vincenzo’s got a lot of what you’d expect from a k-drama at first glance. The leading man is a dashing young man, the leading lady is headstrong and stubborn, you see their romance coming a mile away and they take their damn time getting there, there’s emotional backstories that take a long time to be revealed, lots of wacky side characters and comedy interspersed with the darkest moments, a focus on corporate corruption, and so on. But it’s got an intrusion of elements brought by Vincenzo’s inclusion, such as mob drama, tonal and cultural imbalance, and the gentleman villain tropes that Vincenzo brings, as the catalyst of change whose antics backflip through action hero, romantic hero, super hero and super villain, cunning puppetmaster and gun-toting warrior alike, and start to have an effect on the world around him. His allies become stronger, more determined and effective, and the villains grow smarter and more horrid as they desperately try to avoid their own downfalls.

On paper, Vincenzo is almost a textbook example of how to craft a villain protagonist. He’s a mysterious foreigner with a hidden past and incredible skills who shows up uninvited in “our” world, who starts terrorizing and manipulating people into doing his bidding. He’s got a hotheaded and foolish investigator chasing after his every move, and frequently employs misdirection and sleight-of-hand to fool the authorities. He commits crimes and employs underhanded methods in the service of stamping out people worse than himself. He never really makes any claim of being a hero and actively rejects the notion he’s fighting for justice, but instead states he’s doing it as a matter of principle. One of the characters early on even states he gives off the vibe of a movie villain, even Vincenzo himself tells Hong Cha-Young, the female lead, that he’s teaching her how to be a proper villain. In another series, Vincenzo would be the hypercompetent sidekick to the main villain, or secretly the main villain, the lone badass that the action hero would have a tough fight against before defeating and moving on. But Vincenzo does not allow himself to be dismissed so easily. 

On the first episode, when we’re introduced to him in Italy, he’s painted as the badass to end all badasses. But the minute he arrives in Seoul, he falls for a trick at the airport and is mugged by two cabbies, and has to walk around penniless and without dignity, shouting curses in Italian that nobody understands. He has to sleep in a broken down apartment, his “taking a steamy shower with classical music playing” fanservice scene keeps being interrupted because the shower doesn’t work, and a pigeon chattering outside his window keeps ruining his sleep. 

The tenants of the building are all introduced as varying levels of unsympathetic and useless, or downright creepy. The tailor screws up his favorite suit, the chef who claims to have studied in Italy is a total fraud, there’s tenants who scare us by passing as ghosts and zombies, and Hong Cha-Young is introduced as an unlikable stooge for Babel. Vincenzo is a villain protagonist who is forced out of his grand mafia epic film, where he conducts business around lavish manors while classical music plays, and stumbles onto a korean drama, a world that operates by different rules and where no one has any reason to take him seriously at first, and gradually finds out that the difference between both worlds is not as big as he’d imagined.

It’s only at the very end of the first episode, when the neighborhood gangsters show up to terrorize the tenants, that Vincenzo starts to kick ass again, and he has not stopped so far. In fact, not just him, ALL of the tenants have gradually started kicking ass with him. Hong Cha-Young severs all connections to Babel and proves to be, as his main partner in crime, just as cunning, twice as driven, and three times as batshit and kooky. The tailor who ruined his suit turns out to be an ex-gang member capable of fending off groups of thugs with only his scissors. The creepy piano girl reveals herself a hacking genius, the zombie impersonators become incredible actors, the failed wrestler and badass wannabe becomes his most active field agent along with his equally strong wife, the chef improves his cooking and lends his restaurant as a meeting center, all of the characters, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM gradually become incredible, competent, resourceful people, really no different than they were before, it just took a little courage and pushing. 

The headstrong and foolish agent pursuing Vincenzo becomes 100% smitten with him and quickly becomes one of his greatest allies. Even the neighborhood gangsters, after being left to die by Babel and forced to start anew, quickly become some of his most loyal allies, and gradually redeem themselves in the eyes of the tenants to the point they become friends. In departing from his old family, Vincenzo forms a new one, even if never by his intention. They even all get matching suits.

This incredibly potent, human core surrounding the antics of an extraordinary figure of action is part of what used to make the Agents of The Shadow such a special, meaningful and beloved part of the series, and something every adaptation since then has been 100% poorer for neglecting. But Vincenzo does it, and does it right. I could watch a billion adventures with these people and never get sick of them. 

Vincenzo is a slick, modern take on the gentleman villain that takes many of it’s oldest conventions and provides blueprints for making them work in modern times. His plans often take a performance art-edge as he employs tactics both old-fashioned and modern, like using social media to stage an event in front of the Plaza so the bulldozers set to demolish it won’t be able to pass, or copying files and passing them to his police contact while keeping the real ones when said police contact inevitably betrays him. The tenants put all of their skills to use, no matter how unusual or seemingly useless. Every episode lays the groundwork for a smashing finale where all of the threads come together and we bare witness to a grand tapestry of karmic retribution.

The villains themselves are no slouch, and also have that modern edge that gradually ramps up. They stage discreet assassinations involving gas leaks and watches meant to burst into flames. They stack the deck impossibly against all characters. They employ masked goons by the dozens, armies of lawyers to smudge any connections between themselves and their actions, and every sector of society in covering them, from journalists publishing pro-Babel propaganda to police commissioners. The assistant of the main villain does zumba classes amidst ordering assassinations, and is often likened to a snake and a witch with her "Crystal Ball” (the name she uses for ordering assassin contacts by the phone), complete with a cowardly, scheming assistant she bullies at every turn. The CEO of Babel has a dual nature not out of place in a Jekyll & Hyde/Dorian Grey kind of story. 

The main villain is often painted as a slasher villain backed by massive corporate power, murdering people with hockey equipments and even outright named “Jason” at one point, with a tense string theme song accompanying his deeds. The show hides the villain at plain sight by using one of the most familiar set-ups of romantic dramas and the tension never stops even after he’s revealed. 

Mobster films tend to paint an idealized version of it’s protagonists, not necessarily because of a genuine love or interest with mobsters (I mean, it really goes without saying that real life mobsters are obviously not admirable figures), but out of a sense of displaying a “this is what it could be” fantasy, a fantasy where the mafioso is a dark hero who will still ultimately do the right thing and stick up for the little guy, in a similar way to how superheroes often function as police officers except, y’know, actually dedicated to protecting people. 

Vincenzo does go to great lengths to address the imbalance of putting such a dark figure as it’s hero, through showing how the situation can only be addressed by the intrusion of a figure such as Vincenzo. There’s a scene where Vincenzo and Hong proceed to explain extremely succintly to their cop ally why the “bad apples” argument is horseshit.  One of the show’s characters, someone who’s spent his entire life being the best person he could, and dedicating himself 110% percent to fighting evil even at the expense of connecting with his own family, someone who absolutely should be the hero to take down Babel, admits shortly before dying that it wasn’t enough, that it was never going to be enough, and that what the situation calls for isn’t a hero, but a monster. That monster being Vincenzo, who is not only powerful and monstrous, but commands the loyalty of people high and low class alike, criminals and law enforcement agents, to fight Babel. In his words, “the ultimate monster”, something even the world’s biggest badass cannot defeat by himself. 

On most other set-ups, Vincenzo would be pretty unmistakably the villain. But here, when he’s set up against a starkly realistic depiction of how corporations actually function in our world, depicts that Vincenzo’s ability to clear his way through goons John Wick-style is nowhere near enough, and to that end, he’s gonna have to fight impossible battles using his brains and his allies. And in the end, he defeats them, time and time again, and proves that they were not that impossible after all. 

One can only hope he’s on to something.

Oh yeah and THE PIGEON BY HIS WINDOW ALSO KICKS ASS and I will not explain how, just watch the show, I can’t do it justice no matter how much I talk about it.

[unsaid-stardust]

JATP Week Day 3-- “Touched by The Stars”

Prompt: Write a fic focused on your favorite ship 

Pairing: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson 

Julie found herself in the studio late one night, unable to fall asleep. Insomnia was nothing new to her. Especially when melodies flowed through her veins and lyrics filled her brain. But, during that dark time, her year without music, she  forced herself to repress those things and one what helped her to do that, was by going to sleep; She couldn't write songs when she was dreaming. 

She could think of all the lyrics and melodies that she wanted to in her sleep and forget them easily the next morning. It was the perfect pastime. 

But now. Now that she had music back in her life, it’s all her what her brain seemed to do. Write lyrics, that is. And it seemed like that year of sleeping all the time gave her all the energy for this year; the year of falling back in love with music. Or in other words, her insomnia was back and there really was no use in fighting it. Especially when she had an excuse to let it all flow out now. 

Except, that night, it wasn’t. She had had a couple lines stuck in her head all that day:

Melodies on repeat, it’s all coming back to me. This is how it starts, lighting strike to the heart. 

The ironic thing about it all, was that she couldn’t find the melody. Usually, for her, they would occur simultaneously. But, for whatever reason, for whatever excruciatingly annoying reason, that didn’t happen. And so, that’s how she ended up chained to her piano, mindlessly plucking at different keys in an utterly mundane motion. 

“You know, a song usually has more than one note, Jules,” A voice came from behind her making her jump, her hands smashing down on the piano in the process creating a shrilling tone.

“Oh my gosh! What’d I say about sneaking up behind me!” Julie stated, throwing her hands out in front of her. Luke smirked with a slight chuckle before sliding onto the piano bench next to her. Julie was too frightened to noticed how close he was before, but oh did she notice then. 

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to. Whatcha working on? Sounds exciting,” Luke teased, clearly avoiding another lecture, which Julie will give him later, as he bumped his shoulder into hers, sending a shiver down her spine. 

Julie still hasn't gotten used to the whole “ghost-band touches” yet. Mostly because it was so new, but that wasn’t the only aspect of it. The main thing she hasn’t gotten used to is the way it felt to be touched by a ghost and how it’s different with each of the boys, Alex’s always had a subtle layer of warmth underneath his ghostly coldness. Reggie’s were mainly cold, yet she could sense the overwhelming sense of empathy along with it . And Luke’s....

Luke’s were so many thing. Cold and warm at the same time like Alex’s and filled with empathy like Reggie’s, but there was something else. Something that Julie really couldn’t put into words, but something that she had felt before; the moment she had passed through Luke that night in her kitchen. 

It was almost like his touch opened a book. A book filled with his emotions. HIs worries and fears. HIs hope and ambition. And...something that Julie hoped he felt when she touched him.

“The melody to a lyric I’ve had stuck in my head all day. I just can’t find it and I've been sitting here for hours. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Julie answered. Julie slouched down towards the piano, focusing her eyes on the black and white keys instead of the pair of eyes that she felt like she could fall into.

“Well, I know what helps me when I'm stuck,” Luke stated. Julie allowed herself to look up at him, curiosity getting the better of her,

“Really? What?” She asked. Luke sent her one of those soft smiles that Julie loves so much before he raised his hand out in front of him, signaling Julie to take it. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” 

Julie looked down at his hand for a brief moment. She really wanted to just stay in her little burrow that was the studio, but she trusted Luke. He was never one to take someone away from music, he was always the one running full speed towards it anyway. If he thought it was important to take her away from the piano, then she did too. 

She grabbed his hand then and she hoped that Luke was too busy taking her to wherever he was taking her to notice the shiver that was sent down her spine. She wondered then, why he didn’t just tell her where to meet him so that he could poof there. It definitely seemed much better than walking and what’s the point of having ghost powers if you don’t use them? Julie pushed those thoughts away though, because if he had poofed to wherever they were going, she wouldn’t have gotten the excuse to keep holding his hand.

Luke opened the doors to the studio and led her to a grassy area in her backyard. He stopped there and let go of Julie’s hand before he proceeded to lay down on the grass. Julie continued standing, a little sad that he wasn’t still holding her hand, but more so confused as to why he took her to this spot. 

“Uh, Luke? What are we doing here? This is just my backyard?” Julie questioned, looking down at the boy laying on her lawn. He seemed unfazed at Julie’s confusion.

“Yeah. And you’re Julie, I’m Luke, the sky is blue, I know. Just come lay down,” He answered, chuckling softly in the middle of his sentences, patting the grass beside him. Julie rolled her eyes at his oh-so-amusing comment, but ultimately, did as he told. 

It was then that Julie noticed the stars above. They weren’t that vibrant and there weren’t that many, they lived in Los Angeles after all where the stars were located on the ground. But, she still couldn't help, but feel that amazement towards the little balls of gas hanging up there in the sky. 

It was silent between the two of them for a moment as they both absorbed the same awe of the sky above, but soon enough, Luke broke it with a clear of his throat.

“I’m always so focused about the music that sometimes I forget it’s helpful to be still for awhile. Alex and Reggie taught me that. I’d sometimes get over-passionate about the music and that’s all I would be able to think about. So much so that I’d forget about my friends...” Luke paused, licking his lips in the process.

“my parents... the people and the life that moved around me. And I’d forget that those are the very same things that inspire me to make music in the first place.” Julie moved looked up at Luke, her cheek lying against the cold grass. Luke stayed where he was, frozen almost, as he gazed up at the sky. It was then that Julie wished she could draw. The scene out in front of her would make the most beautiful painting of them all.

“So, when I was at the very same place you were, hitting the same string on my guitar over and over again and scratching out lyrics all over my notebook, the guys brought me out here and told me to lay down. There aren’t that many stars, but that’s not the only thing that’s beautiful. It’s the silence of the world at night that’s interrupted by the breeze passing through the trees or a car passing by. It’s the noise of the things that remind you that you’re--well.... alive.”

Julie felt her lips part. She had never seen this side of Luke, but it was at that moment that she realized she had felt it. It was there when she passed through him that night in her kitchen. Amongst his worries and fears. His hope and ambition. And....that something else. 

She understood it then. That something else. It wasn’t just what she hoped he felt when she touched him, but it was so much more; the feeling of fate. It might’ve been her mom that sent him to her or it could’ve been something else. But, whatever it was, Julie Molina was meant to meet Luke Patterson. She was meant to have this moment with him under the stars that were aligned for them.

And that’s when it came to her. 

Melodies on repeat, it’s all coming back to me. This is how it starts, lightning strike to the heart. And this is my favorite part, it’s all been written in the stars. 

The melody. She was mindlessly singing under her breath next to Luke who she didn’t even notice was facing towards her, his eyes beaming with that something else she had felt in her kitchen.

“ok, that’s killer! Think I could find--” Luke paused for a moment, looking back at Julie whose eyes were drowning right into his. HIs lips part; voice getting soft. 

“the harmony?” He finished, never breaking his gaze away from the sight next to him. Julie was never more glad to be in the dark, for otherwise, Luke would’ve seen her cheeks turn a light shade of red. Somehow, she was able to find her voice.

“I think the stars beat you to it.” 

[cosmica-candy]

Chapter one: Sunflowers

Welcome to chapter one of the NSR Coraline AU this was written by @mechamastermind We have decided to post it on my account instead of his We hope you enjoy this first chapter

Prologue 

Neo and his family pulled up to the new mansion, coming up over the hill side, it looked quite old and rustic compared to the bright lights of Vinyl city. For one thing it was mostly made out of wood, and there were no outdoor lights.

The family quickly piled out of the car, the older brothers each immediately running to the trunk to grab their suitcases and ran with them inside. Neon found himself spinning around trying to catch one of the boys as they ran past him,

“Wait! Just– Oh goodness… Make sure to pick a room on the second floor!” he tried calling out to his impatient boys. Neon turned back and saw neo struggling to pull his own suitcase out of the trunk, he let out a little sigh as he walked up and pulled it straight out for him.

“Here let me little one…” He said as neo looked down disappointed once more, Neon took the briefcase and walked around the side of the car to Nova,

“Honey? Come on let’s start un–”

But nova just slumped over right in front of him, his face smashing into the steering wheel as he promptly clocked out after an over night driving session…

“Oh dear…” Neon said, turning back to Neo, Neo was looking around at the butterflies that fluttered about and landing on his head, Neon knelt down by his boy and gently patted his head.

“Why don’t you go explore or something, I have to help papa into the mansion.”

“B-buh.” Neo said, but before he could object his daddy already wrapped nova’s big arm around his shoulders as he attempted to drag him inside.

Neo kicked the dirt as he began walking down the big path leading to the mansion, softly looking as he counted stones along the way before he suddenly felt the urge to sneeze.

He looked up in front of him, and there away from the mansion was a huge field of yellow flowers, gently swaying in the wind. Neo wiped his nose as he ran amongst the flowers, gently holding out his hand against them, before he hit a rather large yellow flower, a yellow flower that went Ow!

He looked down to see a girl his age stand up from amongst the flowers, her hair blending in with the rest of the field, as she looked at him with her big red eyes, and talked with a lisp.

“Aye! What you gone and do that for?! That really hurt!!” she said, stomping her feet into the soft dirt as neo put his arms behind his back and twiddled his thumbs.

“Oh, Uh sorry, I thought you were a flower.”

“So you tried to smack me!?”

“I wasn’t smacking you! I was petting the flowers!”

“Who pets flowers!?”

“I do!! They’re very soft!”

“That’s not what you do with flowers! Here I’ll show you what you do with flowers!”

Neo stomped his feet back at the girl, to which the girl let out a little huff.

She then squatted down on the floor, looking up at neo and waving him down to follow her, as he did the same. They both were squatting in front of a particular large sunflower. The girl leaned in putting her nose right up against it as she gently sniffed it, a little smile forming on her face now as she had the fresh scent of the flower fresh in her mind now…

“See? Gently, you sniff and appreciate the flower, not touch it.”

Neo kind of understood, as he mimicked the girl, putting his nose up against the flower and taking in a deep breath through his nose… it was the freshest thing he ever smelled, nothing like the flowers in the city… then he felt the burning sensation in his nose, his eyes began to water up before he let out the terrible force, a tremendous sneeze bellowed his way through his lungs!!

He ended up sneezing so terribly hard that the sunflower stem snapped in two, falling over as the girl began to fume with rage, she kept looking at the flower then back at neo for confirmation that his assassination just happened… She began to aggressively point at it and then at him, unable to speak words for a minute as she was so angry, before shoving him over and loudly exclaiming,

“What did you do that for!? You just hurt the flower!”

But neo was laughing as he was pushed, landing on his butt, it was kind of fun for him to play with someone his age like this, and found her reaction very funny. He was just giggling at her, which only made her more mad. She began to stomp around in circles angrily, obsessing over the other flowers before turning back to accusingly point at him once more with a vengeance.

“Who even are you anyways Greenie!?”

Neo was smiling as he hopped back to his feet, not just standing up now, but getting up on top of a nearby rock, standing a few feet above his friend now as he put his hands on his waist and proudly exclaimed.

“I am neo!! Neo nova!”

The girl just stared at him for a moment before asking,

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Oh.” He said, not the reaction he was expecting,

“It’s just my name… What’s yours anyways?”

She was in the middle of emergency surgery for the flower that was so violently cut down by the hurricane of this green boy, holding it up right as she pulled a little bandaid from her boots, covered in musical notes and tiny piano’s, she wrapped it around the wound, and gave it a little kiss… the flower stood tall once again, as she looked back at neo and said,

“My name is Yinu, pear boy!”

“What’s a pear?” Neo began to ask, before he began to hear some sort of singing coming from over the hill… he looked and saw the distant yet still massive figure of a giant red woman singing gently to the wind.

“Yinnuuuuuuuu~” the woman called out.

“Oh! That’s mama!! I gotta go pear boy! Don’t kill any more flowers!” Yinu picked up her packets of seeds and stuffed them into her satchel before running towards her mama, gently grabbing her hand as she began to walk her home, Neo looked at them almost jealous, before he heard his own calling.

Neon was frantically sprinting towards Neo, running down sunflowers in his way, only upsetting Neo further. Neon knelt down next to his boy taking his hand aggressively and pulling him along.

“Neo! What are you doing all the way out here! This is much too far for you!!you could have gotten lost! Or worse!”

“B-but daddy you said to explo–”

“I know but this is much too far, I couldn’t even see you…”

Neo looked down at his feet, his lip wavering as he was escorted back home… Neon looked down at his boy, picking him under the arms and hugging him to his chest as he carried them the rest of the way.

“Neo you know better than to run off… just stay home with daddy and papa…” Neo looked at his feet dangling behind neon now as he hugged his daddy tighter…

[missblissy]

What if Alastor had a s/o who was deaf? 🤔

((WHEEZE. COUGHS. VIBRATES UNCONTROLLABLY. I’m living for this, okay?? This is my shit. I’m obsessed. Thank you anon. U have blessed me. THIS GOT REALLY LONG AAAAAAA. i did not mean for this to happen. There is a link down in the story that is underlined that will send you to a song you guys might want to listen to when you get to that part of the HCs. :)) Trust me... You guys are gonna want to listen to that song, I don’t want to spoil it so!! Just trust me!! You’ll like it!! If you cant find the link down there.. HERE IT IS TOO~~!!  ENJOY!!!!!!! ))

((They/Them))

At first, he thought you were just ignoring him. You caught his eye standing pretty at the bar. A new resident? Oh, how exciting! He simply had to introduce himself to you. You were already quite attentive to him, falling into almost category of his type.

But when he approached and said, “Why, hello there!” And when you didn’t react, respond, or turn to face him, Alastor was a little shocked to be so blatantly ignored. His smile seemed more forced as another handful of seconds past by. That was until Husk chuckled from the other side of the bar, “You’re an idiot” he told the Radio Demon while cleaning a whiskey glass.

“Excuse me?” Alastor gave a wide eye blink with a never-fading smile. You had finally noticed someone standing behind you, only because you saw Husk’s lips move. You turned around and noticed the menacing presence of Alastor. It was hard to see, but you noticed the twitch of irritation at his brow. “They’re deaf, dumb ass.” Husk explained, seeing as he already knew you a little bit.

Ah. Well then. Alastor wasn’t sure how to respond so he just kept smiling while his eyes flicker between you and Husk. Lucky for you, you could read lips pretty well but for the most part, you depended on sign language as your preferred method of communication. You knew your voice sounded off, clumsy and slurred if you tried to speak, seeing as you couldn’t d hear yourself. You were very self-conscious about the way you sounded for a deaf person.

And yet this started the steady slow-building friendship between you and Alastor. He kept his distance for the longest time. You always felt his eyes on you though. He’d watch you sign to others. Husk knew a lot of sign language so you spent a large part of your time at the bar talking to him. Over time, as Alastor watched you from afar, he studied every hand motion, every sign and every little mannerism there was to know about you. You weren’t sure how to feel about him. The two of you never actually talked or communicated in any way shape or form. You couldn’t lie though, there was just something about him that you were drawn into, and it was hard to keep him out of your thoughts. 

Weeks went by where you’d pass each other in the hallway and wave, smile, and sometimes Alastor would give you a nod of his head. He stilled watch you all the time, and he never hid it. You’d look at him from across the room and meet his gaze, then turn back and focus on whatever Charlie was saying. Five minutes would pass then you’d dash your gaze back over and see Alastor’s eyes still glued to you. 

One day you were sitting by yourself at the bar. You were nose deep in a book that you couldn’t get enough off. Suddenly someone tapped on your shoulder. It took you by surprise so you let out a little and startled yelp. It was Alastor standing behind you with a smile that seemed too large for his face. His eyes had a low reddish glow to them and you could feel the static electricity wave off him in shallow pulses similar to a heartbeat. Your senses were heightened. He smelled like wild roses and what you could only assume was death. The air around him was freezing cold and extremely still.

Suddenly he gave you a formal bow. One of his hands laid across his chest while the other stretched behind him. He ducked his head down and stayed like that for a few seconds. Then he stood tall again and to your surprise, he signed “Hello,” and you watched his lips move as he said it too. Little did you know that he had kept his distance for so long because he was learning how to communicate with you. Over the weeks, he was drawn to you. The way you dressed, laughed, hummed and genuinely sought out redemption. You signed back “Hi,” while Alastor went on to say, “Our first introduction didn’t really go very well. I didn’t know you were deaf. So I’m sorry if I seemed rude,” His grin was forever wide and smeared across his face, lips moving to each word, though you couldn’t tell if he spoke them out loud or whispered them to himself. ((He was talking allowed, which caused Husk to grow irritated enough to leave the bar to restock it full of more liquor.

You signed back with a smile “I didn’t know you could use sign language,” You mouthed each word, but not a sound came from you until a soft little giggle escaped your lips. It made his dead heart twitch to life. It was almost enough to make HIM blush. The two of you instantly hit it of right there.

From that day on, Alastor was never far from you. He lingered here and near. You could always tell when he was around even if you couldn’t see him. Alastor gave off this very unique pulsing wave of electricity into the air, but not nearly enough people noticed this. When you asked Charlie if she’d ever felt it before, she had no idea what you were talking about. Angel said he felt something like that before but didn’t put it together that it may have been Alastor. 

It became commonplace for Alastor to keep you company whenever he had a moment to spar. He’d ask you a lot of questions, things about yourself, your life and afterlife. He wanted to get to know you. 

One day Alastor brought you into a large empty theater in the back of the Hotel. It was filled with rows and rows rotting tables with broken chairs. But a piano stood alone on the stage. He held his arm out and walk you between the rows of tables and chairs and down to the stage. You kept asking him what was going on or what he had planned, but he only smiled and told you to just wait and see. 

The piano was sleek and clean. Alastor closed the lid of the grand piano and freed the keyboard from its cover. He didn’t ask or wait a second to lift you up from bridal style and place you on top of the piano. He signed, “You should lay on down for this, trust me.” 

You did as told. You laid down on your back with your eyes fixed up at the rafters above the stage. While you did that, Alastor sat down in front of Piano and got ready to express himself in a way that he had not done in decades. 

Suddenly you felt the vibrations of the key strings of the piano being struck at the rate of a thousand full. You’ve never felt anything like this before. You sat up enough to spin around and face Alastor. His quick fingers paused for a second or two. He wore a smile and his eyes were closed. You stared at him when suddenly his fingers smashed the keys and a loud thunderous wave of vibrations and static washed over you. The song he played was fast and you could feel every note course through your bones. There were so many emotions in this song and even though you couldn’t hear it, you could feel it. 

You’ve never had the chance to experience music. It was something that always fell on dead ears. If you could have anything in the world, it would be the chance to just hear one song. It didn’t even have to be a good one. And somehow Alastor was making this possible in a way you never thought of. As he raced one, smashing key after key with such speed and aggression you couldn’t even focus on his hands. You could feel every high and low note, every note that was pressed with force or delicacy. Alastor finally started to slow down when his eyes flashed open but as soon as he did that he slammed down on the keys again and proved you wrong. He went faster and faster, staring at you the entire time with a glowing grin and flashing red eyes that somehow flicker their own light that matched the speed of his song.

The song had finally come to an end and you were moved in a way that made you emotional. Alastor leaned on an elbow while resting his cheek in his hand. You saw him mouth the word, “So?” He was asking what you thought about his little ‘surprise.’ It was amazing. It was something you had never experienced before, and that song... it was hypnotizing, intoxicating and a high you wanted to feel again if that was even possible. You first signed “That was amazing!” then signed “Thank you!” Over and over again. You felt little tears prick your eyes but they never fell.

You nearly fell off the piano while throwing your arms around Alastor. He stiffened the second you touch him, but relaxed and let you hug him. As you lingered there you did your best to pass air through your lungs and voice out, “Thank you, Al,” So that’s what your voice sounded like? There was no stopping it now. He simply adored it while finding himself liking you more and more. Alastor returned your hug and found himself getting lost in it, and not wanting to let go. 

[voorbeees]

Hello, I have finished the 3rd chapter of dad jesse au. you can read it here or here

Jesse is...put straightforward, fucking exhausted. He knows he's not getting any younger but fuck. Time can allow him one small morsel of relaxation. The separation of work and hobby has always been exceptionally easy for him to manage. During the day he's able to keep composure and do things that furthers his company's success. Meanwhile at night he's always able to release that built up pressure. That second part has been just a teeny bit harder for him to accomplish lately. Especially when Tilly will just not go the fuck to sleep.

Lately it seems she's made a conscious effort to avoid bedtime at any cost. Tonight it seems the urge is even stronger. Jesse can't talk, which is probably for the best. If he could he would be shouting swears and yelling and he really doesn't like the mental image of the young girl cowering from him. Unfortunately that means he also can't read bedtime stories, something that seemed to crush Tilly when she learned of it. Jesse had felt so bad about the whole thing that he'd had Spann record herself reading a child's book just so he could play it at night for her. It isn't the same but she seems to accept it.

Tonight they both sit on the couch. Jesse in black sweats and a black tank top, a far cry from his typical blue-collar fashion. Tilly wears the new pajamas she got recently. They're red and have teeny horses on them (one of her most recent obsessions). Jesse can't even remember what movie they're watching. He thinks it's about cats, but it's hard to tell when all the colors from the animation keep blending the fuck together every time his eye starts to cross from exhaustion.

Tilly sits beside him, seemingly content to ignore the movie altogether. (So why the fuck is he trying to make the conscious effort to watch it.) She hums as she trades out her red marker for her green one. Another of her new hobbies seems to be coloring in Jesse's blank tattoos anytime she gets the chance. So much for just enjoying the black ink. Thank God his suit conceals it until all of the marker wears off.

Jesse let's out a deep sigh just as he's about to finally fall sleep when he realizes Tilly has put down her marker. He hopes to God this means she's ready to go to bed but a quick glance proves wrong. Her eyes are glued to the screen where she watches one of the cats playing the piano. (Honestly who made this movie? Cats playing pianos, ha! And why the hell is that what he's concerned with right now.)

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left. There's a brief hesitation to his movement but he works against it. Jesse taps her on the shoulder and the small girl looks up at him with those big eyes. He's still trying to keep signing as simple as possible but he also doesn't want to rely on the phone for communication. He mimicks playing a piano like on the TV and then points at her.

Tilly's tiny face scrunches up in confusion. Of course nothing could be that simple. Jesse repeats the action, this time slower. It takes her a minute but he thinks she's finally got it.

"I can't play the piano." Her tiny voice squeaks out and no it seems she still doesn't understand.

He repeats the action again. Piano and then pointing to her. Jesse gives her a minute and watches as she pieces it together. Tilly's face lights up with a massive smile as she looks up at him. She jumps up, grabbing his arm and shaking it. "I wanna learn to play it! I wanna learn to play it!" Almost immediately after though her face falls and she stops jumping. "But we don't have a piano ."

Jesse shakes his head and stands, motioning for her to follow. "But we don't have one...do we?" Tilly trails along beside him expecting an answer but receiving none, at least until he opens the door to a room she's never really paid attention to before. Her face lights up and she darts inside but Jesse stays at the threshold. He feels his chest start to constrict. The room itself is unexceptional save for the marble that decorates the floor and its white walls. Well that and the piano that sits inside. It's entirely unspectacular but the sentimental value it caries feels like its strangling him.

Back in Jacksonville he had bought the piano and fixed up one of the rooms in his mansion there. Sure he knows how to play it but it was mainly purchased for his wife. Jesse can only remember her playing it a handful of times though. More often than not she coerced him into playing it while she either sat beside him or danced lazily with a glass of wine in her hand. It was a dead memory now and he couldn't help the way it made him feel nauseous. (Would she still want him to play for her now? His facial features altered from all the reconstructive surgeries.)

When he'd moved to LA, Jesse had packed the piano and had it transported to the new mansion. His wife was never in this room or this house, but he'd made an effort to replicate the room the piano once occupied. The only thing that remained of his wife's attachment to the object was a framed photograph of her he'd placed on one of the small side tables in the room. Other than that she was entirely gone, out of his grasp.

The sound of piano keys smashing has Jesse's memories crashing and burning. He's abruptly brought back to reality. His good eye sees Tilly's tiny hands dragging across the instrument but her attention is short lived. She let's out a gasp. "Who's this!" The little girl rushes toward the photo of his wife and pulls it off the table to inspect it. There's no ill intent behind her movement but Jesse's moving before he can ground himself. He marches in and yanks the picture frame from her hands, his good eye boring a hole into her very form. A silent: don't fucking do that again, hangs in the air.

"I -I'm sorry." Tilly shrinks in on herself. She clutches her hands near her chest, almost like she's afraid they'll get her into trouble. Her bottom lip quivers and Jesse catches sight of the tears threatening to spill from her green eyes.

Jesus what the fuck is wrong with him. Here he is clutching to the photo and offering more protection to it than he actually did his wife when she needed him. Jesse takes a breath and exhales shakily before he hands the frame to her.

Tilly watches him for a moment before she snatches the item almost how a wild dog would snatch food from a hand. The woman in it is smiling and it's a headshot. It almost makes her wonder if it were for the lady's job. Her blonde hair is cut to just above her shoulders and diamond earrings decorate her earlobes. The matching necklace lays against her clavicle. "Who is she?" She looks back to Jesse.

He really needed to teach her more sign. It would be easier than his current plan, which is to retrieve a pad and pen from the corner desk and write. When he does turn the paper to her, his scribbly cursive has written one word. Wife.

"You're married?!" Her tiny head wipes back and forth as if she's trying to decipher where the woman is hiding at in the room. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her brows knit as her lip pouts. This whole time she could have had a mother figure but he chose not to tell her. "Where is she?!" Tilly almost regrets that question instantly when she sees the way Jesse flinches ever so slightly. Oh no. That's not good. Did she upset him? Is he going to be mad at her? He's never punished her (unless you count not being able to watch a movie as punishment) but that doesn't mean that he won't or couldn't do it, right? Tilly blinks with a tiny furrowed brow as she looks up at him. "She isn't here, is she?" Her voice is probably the lowest Jesse has ever heard it but judging by the way he looks at her, Tilly knows the answer. Now she desperately wants to ask what happened. Did she leave? Did he leave her? No, that didn't seem right judging by his posture. Her little eyes go wide at the prospect that something else could have happened. Oh no. That would explain the sadness. She's stuck in that loop of thought until she sees the note pad in front of her again.

Do you still want to play the piano? Jesse feels like he already knows the answer to this question. His main goal is to change the subject, and just as he thought, he's met with an aggressive head nod. He grins (if it can even be described as that on his disfigured face) and his shoulders jump with a silent laugh. He makes his way over to the instrument and motions for Tilly to follow.

Jesse lifts her with no issue and places her on the small bench sitting in front of the piano and then sits beside her. Already he can practically feel her vibrating with excitement. It makes him vaguely think about how he can't remember the last time he felt like that. The thought is cut abruptly short as a loud THWANK echoes in the empty room. He makes a face and jabs a pinky in his ear, almost like he's testing to make sure his hearing is still working. Jesus Christ he needs to put more things in here so it isn't so loud.

A nervous smile decorates the girl's face. "Sorry." It's followed by a nervous laugh. Somehow Jesse can't help thinking he's going to regret showing and teaching her the piano. Goodbye peace and quiet.

He exhales and intertwines his fingers before popping them. From the corner of his good eye he sees Tilly doing the same and matching his expression. God, at this moment she could ask him to burn the mansion down and he would. Oh no, that wasn't good, was it? Fuck. She really did have him wrapped around her finger.

Jesse takes precise care when he starts showing her where to place her hands. This is another time being mute has fucked him over. It's kind of hard to teach someone to play the piano when you can't explain the sound or which key makes it. He makes a mental note. If Tilly ends up seeming to have an interest in it, then he'll just get a teacher. It's not really the same, but she'll get the knowledge out of it that she wants.

He focuses back on the currently reality. Tilly watches as his forefinger and thumb press several keys and it makes a melody. She blinks as she watches his other hand and fingers begin to find their rhythm, each seeming to press a different key. She glances down at her own small hand. That may be a little harder for her. Although she was pretty positive that Jesse had the biggest hands she'd ever seen. Maybe that's why he was able to play so well. Tilly continues to watch, her eyes darting between him and his hands. Was it even harder with one eye? She wanted to ask but something told her that probably wasn't the best idea. Instead she settled for listening to the melody and leaning her head against his arm. It had to be the most soothing melody she'd ever heard.

Glancing down, Jesse couldn't help but mentally pat himself on the back. A simple lesson seemed to be having a drowsy effect on her. Opposite of what the goal was, but fuck, if she was going to finally go to sleep, he was more than happy with that. A few more moments he played the song until he ended it on a soft key. Another glance proved him right.

Finally.

God, if he had known this would make her sleep, then he'd have done it to begin with. Jesse sits there for a minute. He observes the room. It doesn't feel the way it used to. Maybe actually coming in here had done that. He wasn't sure. Maybe he'd let Tilly decorate it in her odd little way. There's no point in keeping the past alive anymore when it's dead.

He sighs and scoops her into his arms as he stands.

"Can we play the piano again sometime?" He glances down to see her little eyes cracked open. Jesse nods and she sighs happily, returning to sleep. "I like the piano." He can't really say what comes over him, but yea, he thinks he's starting to like the piano again.

[oyesmendes]

wildflower - calum hood

a/n: i’ve had this storyline sitting in the works for days soooooo.... its gonna be a couple of parts so lets see where this takes us ya? full of dialogue and unnecessary descriptions. 

summary: after a nasty breakup, Karla Rivera finds herself working as one of the new producers/songwriter for 5SOS. She had no intention to fall in love right now, but one conversation struck a chord with her. In between producing a smashing album and writing hit singles, Karla finds herself entangled in the arms of a man who she never thought she’d end up with.

“Alright boys, as much as I love working with you guys, I think it’s time I bring in someone new.” Andrew says as he shuffles around the kitchen of the Malibu beach house. The boys had rented this place out for a month to work on their new album, as well as to take a short break from tour. They had only arrived yesterday, but things were already starting to bloom and they had a few songs on their hand they thought would fit the album.

“What do you mean? Are you leaving us?” Luke sat up in his seat. All the boys were sprawled in different corners of the kitchen, munching on their breakfast before the day of writing began.

“I’m not leaving, just bringing someone new in.”

“Who? And why do we need someone new?” Andrew could only roll his eyes at the question, downing the last bit of his coffee before throwing it into the sink.

“You’ll know her when she gets here. She’s talented, and I think she could provide something fresh.” He looks at the time on his phone, “She should be here soon, just play nice”

The boys all gave each other looks. They haven’t really stepped out of their circle of people when it came to music, so working with someone new and not to mention a female songwriter, could really give them a whole new perspective on things.

Karla finds herself sitting in the car for way too long. She was parked outside a gorgeous beach house on the quiet side of Malibu and she was dressed in an old concert T-shirt she had stolen from her brother, along with a pair of shorts and sneakers. She takes three deep breaths and gives herself a small pep talk before climbing out of her car. This is your job she reminds herself, it’s something you love to do.

When Karla first received the phone call from Andrew, she was reluctant to move even an inch off the bed in the guest bedroom of her brother’s apartment. All she wanted to do was shove down another pint of ice cream and watch old re-runs of Real Housewives. She knew her brother was the culprit behind the phone call, filling Andrew in about her breakup with her boyfriend of three years. Andrew had blown up her phone afterwards, calling Karla every single day until she finally agreed to come write with him for a week. Though it was a good intention, trying to get Karla out of the house, Andrew knew it was also her prime time. The overwhelming emotions she felt more often than not would be translated into the most beautiful words, and she would produce sounds unheard of. So here she was, standing in front of the door of the house. She had her water bottle and duffel in hand, notebook, phone and iPad in the other. The white door swings open, and Andrew pulled her into his arms immediately,

“There you are!” She returns the hug, a genuine smile on her face after finally him in the flesh. Andrews pulls away, hands clasped to her upper arm and he takes a good look at her. Karla thanks god for the Benefit concealer she’s slathered under her eyes or she’d be getting an earful from him. He grins at her and pulls her into the house, down the hallway to the living room where she spots the four boys with their heads buried in some form of instrument or notebook. They don’t take notice of their presence at first until Andrew clears his throat, and the boys look up at him.

“Boys, this is Karla Rivera, she’ll be working with us for the week!” Andrew says a little too enthusiastically. Karla gives them a small wave, and she notices the look that the boys give each other. They were unsure of her that was for sure, having not met her before. Ashton stood up first, Karla reaching her hand out but the boy pulled her into a single arm hug. She laughed when she was caught off guard by him, which set the boys smiling as well. Calum, Michael and Luke followed after, and they were settled down at the couch so they could show her what they had been working on.

-

“This is good… maybe we can add a bum bum bum.” She hummed a tune the boys had never heard before, and Andrew scrambled to play it on his guitar.

“And then for the lyrics maybe we could do - killin’ me slow with the words you wrote, the heart you broke…” Karla paused to scribble words onto her notebook before singing out, “calling my name, I don’t wanna stay but I’m wide awake, I’m wide awake.” Everyone in the room was in shock at how naturally the words flowed for her, this being the second song that was almost done and definitely had potential in being on the album. There was a lot of humming and words being muttered under their breath, until Calum shot up from his chair.

“How about - just one more taste of you my love. Then we repeat the first two lines? This could be the chorus!” Luke was already by the piano, playing out the melody and singing to the lyrics they had just written down.

“Thin white lies”

“What was that, K?”

“Add the line of thin white lies after that line that Calum just said, have someone sing it in the background or something.” Andrew looked to the boys who followed suit, their eyes widening when they heard themselves perform it. Karla had a wide grin on her face when she heard it unfold, her eyes meeting Calum’s who looked equally as satisfied. They still had a long way to go with empty verses that needed to be filled, but this was a small victory worth celebrating.

“Holy shit.” Ashton mumbled after hearing the small part.

“I told you she was good.”

“Didn’t tell me she was that good.” Andrew smirked at him before working to compile all the components of the chorus together. After the chorus came together, everything else in the song fell into place easily. All four boys worked on the lyrics with Karla, who made the words fall out of their mouths. They had almost the entire song written from top to bottom, the melodies and layering all in place, and they were just missing a bridge and outro.

“We could just stray away from the conventional structure” Michael suggested, but Ashton shook his head.

“No, it feels like something is missing.”

“How about…” Karla had her head in her notebook, flipping through the worn out pages of it. She often dug through the words she had written before but never used, and they would often be essential in a situation like this. Her finger ran across the page that was filled with her scrawly handwriting just a week after her breakup, and that’s when she found the exact words.

“I don't think I like me anymore. Can someone tell me who I was before? We can repeat this twice, I think it fits.” Calum writes it down on the paper that they had the lyrics on, and Luke proceeds to sing it out. Those words definitely fit. They all cheer, high-fives thrown among each other. Karla smiles softly, celebrating with the boys. They take a fifteen minute break for Andrew to record everything down, and Karla took this chance to step outside on the balcony. This was her favourite kind of view - watching the sea crash into the sand, the sun shining above the horizon and a few people laying on the beach having a good time. She thinks about all the time she’s spent at the beach in her three year relationship. How they’d spend every important date in their lives celebrating in the salty water, getting sand so far up their ass they’d shit sandcastles for days. She laughs to herself then shakes her head out of those thoughts. It’s been a whole month since that faithful day, she’s got to get over it. Just as she was about to go back inside, Calum startles her with his voice and she jumps.

“Jeezus, you couldn’t be any stealthier huh.” He chuckles, and Karla notices how his eyes crinkle.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She gives him her middle finger, and he stands next to her, admiring the view as well.

“What you did in there, those words were really cool y’know?”

“Thank you.” She says shyly. It’s been nearly five years since she started working as a songwriter, and she still couldn’t handle compliments well.

“Those words came from somewhere?” Karla knew where this conversation was going, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. She nods to Calum, then shrugs her shoulders. He understands and doesn’t push the boundaries.

-

They worked on a couple more songs before they called it a day. The boys had all agreed that Karla brought something different to the table, and pushed them to a whole new level they never knew existed. The lyrics were definitely more vulnerable and honest, and they were enjoying every single moment of it. Food and beer was strewn all over the table, the boys chatting about the next leg of the tour and what not. Karla was the first to notice that Calum wasn’t in the room with them, and she looks around only to find him on the balcony, a cigarette in his hand.

“You know, one too many of those and you could die.” It was his turn to jump, and Karla smiles at him when he dramatically raises his hand to his chest.

“I’d die of a cardiac arrest first.” She playfully shoves him, then moves to take her place on the outdoor sofa. Calum joins her and the pair stay quiet for awhile, just watching as the waves crashed harder on the sand.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Karla hums in response, her eyes closed as a cool breeze passes by. Calum places his hand on her knee, squeezing it slightly to get her attention. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at him, brown eyes and all, just staring at her.

“It just reminds me of my ex.” She sighs, leaning her head back on the chair.

“What does? The ocean?”

“That, and everything else. It’s like I wake up and all I can think about is how awful I feel without him by my side.” His heart scrunches up at her words. He’s finding the right response to her statement, racking his brain for the exact words. But is there a correct response to such a statement? Her voice gets him out of his head, and he’s listening intently again.

“He cheated y’know? I wasn’t in town and he fucking cheated. Had sex with a girl on our bed.”

“A fucker.” Calum seethes. He hears her chuckle and it confuses him for a moment before she speaks up, “that’s an understatement.” Karla leans on his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She felt a sense of relief admitting this to someone other than her brother or her best friend. And it felt good to finally get her emotions out on to paper and into a song.

Calum felt his heart race at a dangerous speed when her head came into contact with his shoulders. It was unlike any other feelings that he’s had before. He finds himself being curious, wanting to get to know more of her, and so desperately wanting to feel her touch against his skin. They sit like this for a long time, the sound of the waves and soft music in the background. He leans his head onto hers, humming a soft tune every now and then.

[auspiciousinformant]

Core Character Ranking - No Straight Roads

At this point with the game having been out for well over four and a half months, I figure that with having a small piece of fiction under my belt, and with the fandom having cooled down from the initial release but still hot enough for content to steadily be coming out from the fanbase, now is a good time for me to share my thoughts on No Straight Roads - rather, what I call the Core Characters of No Straight Roads.

I call them this because they are the collective protagonist main characters and antagonistic bosses - not filling up one bucket or another quite satisfactory. I might even make this into a series if anyone cares enough to hear my thoughts on other pieces of fiction. If you’re interested, continue below the line.

Oh, also, spoilers for No Straight Roads if you still care about that.

Disclaimer before continuing onwards - I’ve never actually played No Straight Roads! I’m not exactly a person with enough wealth to throw at my own interests and hobbies, but I feel I’ve absorbed enough through culture osmosis, 100% walkthroughs of the game, and other people’s interpretations of the game to be able to make my own informed opinions on the characters.

Also, this isn’t a “bosses” ranking list - this is a character ranking list. Meaning that individuals are going to be ranked rather than the whole. For example, Sayu will be divided into the four members behind Sayu (hereafter refered to as “Team Sayu”) as well as Sayu herself. This also means I won’t fully go on the gameplay mechanics as I don’t have enough experience with it to make a fully informed decision. I will talk about what I’ve seen though.

With that in mind, we’ll be starting as all of these lists usually do, from the bottom ranking to the top: ________________________________________________________________ 20. Eve

Now, this may come as a shock, but I absolutely despise divas. Eve was entertaining enough, but through her videos she was only relatable and likable to me before she and Zuke broke up. Mostly because I could relate with her self-loathing and her found happiness.

Still... setting someone’s hair on fire? And then being confused as to why that happened? Then completely blaming the victim and using that mistake as fuel to shut out any other potential kindred relationship for the future? I’ve seen people who do that; it’s pathetic at best and annoying to see at worst. Thankfully, due to Zuke, she does eventually come around.

Her music and boss fight are interesting enough I suppose. I like how the perspective changes and I adore when you have to switch over to Mayday and it becomes a fully chaotic mess of limbs, doubt, hatred, and rage. I live for that chaotic aesthetic.

Otherwise, she’s just... the weakest character to me in No Straight Roads.

Maybe she’ll Eve-ntually earn my respect in supplementary materials.  ________________________________________________________________ 19. Sofa

The first member of Team Sayu I’m mentioning and he’s this low on the list. Ouch. Not to say that I hate him, the hate started and ended with Eve - he, along with the others don’t really have much of a personality canonically that I can see to judge him on. But in terms of his design, I’ve never been much of a fan of “overweight and silly” outside of Doctor Eggman/

Do not take this the wrong way. I am in NO way fatshaming ANYONE.

I just have never liked that design in fictional characters. See Hifumi Yamada from “Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc” for more on what I mean

Still, he’s a core member of Team Sayu and from the fanfiction I’ve read he’s one of the better characters to write with. Maybe if we got a spinoff or other related materials, he’d go up a few numbers in rank, but as it stands, he’s the weakest of the group.

Sofa-r so good, let’s move on before these puns go too far. ________________________________________________________________ 18. Mayday Yeah. I’m not a huge fan of Mayday herself. Hotheaded protagonists are fine here and there, but she’s so hot-headed I’m surprised that she didn’t have the fire aesthetic as well. I guess with it all being taken by Tatiana, they could only give her a warm color scheme so it wasn’t redundant.

Her gameplay seems fine, if a bit basic. The heavy hitter is also a hothead, who could guess. I kinda like how someone as scrawny and small as her also has the biggest heart and temper. Also the gags that come from her relating to the other bosses are hysterical and make for good protagonist material. Still, outside of her interaction with DK West, Zuke, and Team Sayu, as well as the very end of the game, there’s a lack of enough “heroic” traits that makes Mayday fall flat from just shy of ranking higher.

I don’t have a clever pun, joke, or one-liner for Mayday, so let’s go to the next person in my list. ________________________________________________________________ 17. DJ Subatomic Supernova I have never really liked disco or dance music at the best of times, but I love space. So what happens when you mix something I feel lukewarm to, something I absolutely adore, and combine it with a trait about a person I absolutely also despise?

You get space helmet man who likes fresh ice cream and goes on for minutes about how great he is and how everyone else around him are plebeians - not knowing how pretentious the stage name “Subatomic Supernova” is.

If I had made this list when I had first seen No Straight Roads, he’d be only just ahead of Eve just because I dislike her so much more than I hate egotism of DJ Subatomic Supernova. But he’s now gone higher on the list since he’s grown on me thanks to the fandom and me realizing the game is parodying the stereotypes and the industry of music. Also, Zuke’s drum solo is AMAZING with the EDM version of DJ SS’s theme. He’s even gone so far as to become half of my second favorite paring in the NSR fandom!

Shine on, you funky space man. ________________________________________________________________

16. DK West Ewah! Older of the two brothers by age, younger of the two by maturity. I absolutely love this goofball. His shadow powers are absolutely amazing to watch and while I normally don’t like rap outside of Eminem (and even then only select tracks), he grew on me a lot. He’s so unique and the culture he’s based on from what I understand was researched with a lot of respect and care.

I’ve heard (and seen) that the third fight ramps up the difficulty way too much, but considering that Mayday is attempting to repair a broken household, it makes sense it’d be such a heavy undertaking from a gameplay and story point.

Also DK West Encounter 1 is a smash hit, telling us everything we really need to know between DK West and Zuke while being an absolutely great song that reminds me of Epic Rap Battles of History for anyone that remembers that.

He overshadows his previous competition by a large margin, and I can’t wait to see more of him if that’s possible. ________________________________________________________________ 15. Yinu’s Mom As the real mastermind behind Yinu’s position in NSR, it suddenly makes so much sense as to why a literal child is in such a strict EDM hierarchy like NSR. What keeps her from going above and beyond this ranking isn’t anything more than just the pressure she puts on Yinu to perform. During the fight, and what I can only presume also happens outside of concerts in the universe of No Straight Roads, it seems like she entirely forgets the reason Yinu keeps playing the piano in the first place.

However, I am a huge sucker for family dynamics, and her stopping her assault due to the memories that Yinu was able to drag out of her through the broken piano by playing Heart of the Prodigy is enough to almost enough for me to reach the level of emotional catharsis as the ending of Pixar’s “Inside Out” did for me. And the way she shielded Yinu when they were falling, the gasp of fear that she might not survive the fall - just pure, amazing storytelling through “show, don’t tell”.

I will say, the more morbid part of me that enjoys things like Danganronpa, Your Turn To Die, and Nonary Games, had the thought of “if it weren’t for the fact that Mayday and Zuke also fell from that height and survived (and that this game is meant for younger audiences), Yinu would have became an orphan.”

Mother of the Year award goes to Yinu’s mom for being the most realistic, sympathetic, non-dead mom in fiction. ________________________________________________________________ 14. Yinu I love classical music, but I don’t really like children. Yinu is an exception to my general dislike of children. The promotion that was released before the game was a little eye-rolling, but it was also funny. Fortunately, in the game, Yinu is so much more mature and interesting than the promotional material lead us to believe. The way the piano plays plays in the base version of VS Yinu conveys just how talented she is at nine years old. It’s a shame that it slowly gets covered up by the EDM version as the battle goes on.

But her reasoning for playing the piano, through the photos you get from Yinu’s backstory is all the more reason to respect this literal child. She turned the loss of her music teacher and father into a shining passion for music. The piano being the very memento of her deceased dad - looking at the photos and then realizing what you did in shattering her piano creates a fantastic retroactive look at just how destructive Bunkbed Junction’s revolution really is to people.

We’re not even half-way down the list, and yet we already have great characters like this, so let’s keep looking. ________________________________________________________________ 13. Dodo There’s been a huge gap since the last Team Sayu member. So what makes Dodo so great compared to Sofa? Well, the deep voice that comes from the scrawny, blue man is funny to me. It caught me off-guard the first time I heard it and had me giggling for hours afterwards after I paused the video to regain my composure.

That, and mocap work is hard work. On top of that, though he’s mostly not the face everyone remembers when fans think of Sayu, it takes a lot of talent and self-confidence to dance like a cutesy mermaid despite being a male, at least in my opinion. So I see him as having high confidence, but also being like Zuke in the “chill and mostly quiet” department.

There’s not much else for me to say, since most of Team Sayu doesn’t have blatantly obvious character traits. So let’s move on. ________________________________________________________________ 12. Sayu Sayu herself is... well, not real. It’s like trying to judge any number of the Vocaloid/UTAU voice banks. Sure you can place any number of personalities and messages into it, but in reality she’s just been built as a “cutsie, wootsie, pink mermaid” idol.

Still, the personality that Team Sayu gives her is fantastic. Her fight is annoying, and lackluster even to watch, but her song is amazing in all of its forms, even if for me the vaporwave version is the least effective of all of them - and Analog Aquatics is the BEST lead-up song to it, even ahead of Heart of the Prodigy.

Hatsune Miku? Who’s that? I only see Sayu as the best Vocaloid. ________________________________________________________________ 11. Remi Technically the creator of Sayu in the first place and her designer, Remi seems to be the “all according to plan” type. To think that his passion for art would lead to a career such as NSR, and a close-knit friend group like Team Sayu. It’s something that I’m sure that every artist has had as their goal at one point or another.

I highly respect anyone with the ability to put their artwork out in public, both in real life and as a character. Even so, there are characters I like even beyond Remi, and once again, we don’t have much to go off of for him outside of the very few times we see him in Sayu’s battle.

Almost all of Team Sayu has been covered at this point - heck, even Sayu herself has already been covered. So where’s Tila you ask? Well, we’ll get to that, but not for a while. ________________________________________________________________ 10. Tatiana “Kul Fyra” Qwartz From the very moment we first hear her voice, we can tell she’s all business and order. When we watch all of NSR reject the rock music outright and listen to Tatiana’s speech afterwards? How she seems to disregard her artists own safety and prioritizing undermining Bunkbed Junction’s efforts just because she can’t bear to remember her old bandmates? Wonderfully selfish for a heartbroken character.

Also, for those who hate her time-oriented powers and how weakly linked they are to Tatiana herself? Consider this: She’s almost 50 years old by the time Bunkbed Junction starts their revolution. She’s lived long enough to be anyone in the cast’s mom - probably even old enough to be Team Sayu and Yinu’s grandma. She has only seen a progressive march of time erode at everything she ever loved and cared about.

The blazing passion within her is brought back to her through Bunkbed Junction’s actions, but through a reversal of time and a reflection of her memories. Bunkbed Junction literally shatters the world view that she constructed for herself to ignore the regret and pain that had been slowly eating her up inside without her ever even having fully realized it in the first phase. By the time Tatiana reverts back to using her Kul Fyra form, she’s trying so hard to list any number of reasons to ignore her past and focus on what little time she actually has left to work on the future.

This was a bit of a longer explanation and reasoning, but for a character as amazing and symbolically complex as Tatiana, she absolutely deserves it. And as you’ll see for the next character, this is only a fraction of my love for the characters of No Straight Roads. ________________________________________________________________9. Neon J And here we start with my absolutely favorite characters, the ones I not only enjoy reading and writing about, but that in canon I can wholeheartedly accept them for who they are, flaws and all.

My grandpa was in the navy, and to make a long story short there were some complicated things that happened that required me to live with both him and my grandma when I was really little. So already there’s something that I can latch onto and adore. Even with how cringy Neon J is at the end with him attempting to try to give an epic war hero speech, my grandpa can be the same way sometimes, and that’s okay. They kind of act similarly outside of that as well.

His design is so sleek and smooth, and sometimes I forget that he’s actually a cyborg, unlike his sons boyband creations. Normally I hate the military, war, and what it all represents at a cynical level, but when it’s portrayed in a way like No Straight Roads did for Neon J and 1010, it reminds me of the people who actually join to serve their country and the people in it, despite how few in their countries actually deserve their respect.

And yeah, I can already hear the “blah blah fiction is poorly portraying law enforcement/the military because ect ect”. I disagree. Think of it this way: Neon J is a fun example of what a leader in a military unit is. Not only that, he’s extremely loyal and willing to do what it takes to get the job done - including having a program inside 1010 that makes them explode when they fail to generate the requisite fan praise that’s likely required to keep 1010 merchandise flying off of the shelves and thus prove to the other NSR artists that even robot boybands can be used to help Vinyl City; AND use said robot boyband as weapons to fight off any threats - internal or external.

Also think about what he had to go through to become a cyborg. That means he likely had to replace everything that’s on the surface - imagine what he needed to replace underneath all of that metal. How much of his original body is left? How badly did the war he was involved in hurt him? How many comrades did he lose to try to recreate that feel in a boyband? Aren’t the implications of that so much more grand than the surface level “radar head man is bad representation of military people because he’s silly and ineffective at his job”. Furthermore, tell me of a person in the real world who lost so much of their body they literally had to become a cyborg that has a literal radar for a head.

On top of all of that he’s the second half of my second favorite pairing. Not that is has any major bearing on how great Neon J already is. Is it silly that Neon J tries to give a huge speech at the end when we know Bunkbed Junction is just trying to get to Tatiana? Yes. But it’s fun.

I salute the No Straight Roads team for creating such an amazing character . ________________________________________________________________8. Blue 1010 Robot | Purl-Hew Ah yes, now we start getting to what’s taking up most of the top 10 slots. Kind of funny that not all of the 1010 members are going into the top 5 slots with how much I ranted and raved about Neon J. But I have characters I like way more than most of the 1010 band members.

And yes, I’ll bring this up now since we’re actually talking about 1010, that will apply to all the members of 1010 so I don’t have to repeat myself: I already know that they’re meant to parody boy bands, pop bands, and how similar all of them are and ect ect ect. That doesn’t stop me from going “hee hoo pretty boys” at fictional characters. And, yes, I know they don’t canonically have names, but I’m going with what’s been accepted across the fandom. Also all of their body types are the same: I like them alot. They’re tall, in monochrome (hah, chrome), and the way they bob to the beat in their battle is fantastic and shows they are powered by music as much as any machine is in the universe of No Straight Roads.

Starting off with my least favorite of them, Purl-Hew just reminds me of Garnet from “Steven Universe”, which is not a bad thing. It’s just that outside of what we learn of Garnet, she’s a character I often forget exists. I think it’s honestly the shades and the blue, more square-like hair that makes me draw the comparison. Purl-Hew strikes me as the “cool” one. The one that recites his poetry in coffee shops and is the sensitive boy with a cold exterior. You know the kind of person I’m talking about.

Other than that, I like the 1010 branding on the side of his head. I normally don’t like hairstyles like that, but somehow with how it flows and how non-obnoxious it is, I actually find myself liking the hairstyle. Also coupled with the fact that I see him as the second eldest of all five of them, who likely cemented an identity for himself before the others, makes me like his entirety even more.

A cool dude deserves a cool transition, but since this isn’t a video, a line break will have to do. ________________________________________________________________7. Red 1010 Robot | Zimelu Zimelu is one of the ones that strikes me as the one that’s borderline trying to break free from the rest of the band and become his own artist. The mowhawk, the color red, even to what he’s likely supposed to represent in-universe. Many see him as having anger issues, and considering what 1010 is about coupled with, again the hair style and his color, yeah I can see why.

But I also see him having a somewhat tsundere side. Not overtly fully tusndere as “I-It’s not like I like you or anything!” but more of a “Hey, I got you [insert favorite food] to eat. Don’t read too much into it.” while looking off to the side to avoid seeing your reaction just because he’s not sure if he can handle the thought of him possibly being wrong and then seeing you be disappointed kind of tsundere.

I don’t see a lot of peices of work exploring this concept, and I’d love to see more of it - or heck, even other personality traits that could be lying under the rebellious design of him.

I see him as the middle child of the group, which could also add to the rebellious personality and anger issues. Not sure if anyone agrees with me on this though. ________________________________________________________________6. Yellow 1010 Robot | Haym Okay, so this is a bit weird. Haym is my second least favorite in terms of design, but third favorite because he’s supposed to be the sunny, shy, and sweet one. I see him as the second youngest of all of the 1010 members. Old enough to have experience and understand his purpose, but young enough to retain that childhood-like innocence and sweetness.

I think he’s content about his place in 1010. It’s not that he would slack off or anything, but he’d be the most comfortable with his identity out of all five of them, even years down the line. Where Purl-Hew has to upkeep his identity, Haym is fine just being who he is and happy that the crowd accepts him for who he is.

Also him saying “even your lips, which form that raaaaadiant smile~” made me smile like an idiot and my heart flutter when I first saw him - and don’t even get me started on his pose when he was saying that. So that probably has at least some bearing on his placement in this list. ________________________________________________________________5. Green 1010 Robot | Eloni Haym was weird for me to admit I still don’t fully like his design, but Eloni’s design is actually worse for me. I still don’t like the fact he looks like you could hang him on a Christmas tree or a keychain and not be out of place there. But as I learned more - especially the part where in-universe he’s the least-liked because he’s the prankster type, my heart melted for the guy.

While I myself am not a prankster or a fan of prankster types, sympathetic characters that are generally unliked in-universe for something minor or not their fault is something that will always get me to love a character. There’s also a lot of great fanfiction out there for Eloni, playing with the idea of jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, and the resulting love and support that inevitably follows from a strong supporting family.

Also, I see him as the youngest, and likely the one who thought it’d be a good idea to give everyone reindeer heads for the Christmas event instead of whatever was originally planned. The fans probably loved it anyways, even better than what was originally planned, but never knew it was Eloni’s messing around that gave them the toy-soldier-with-reindeer-heads 1010.

Second best 1010 boy deserves to be in the top 5 for all of this and more. ________________________________________________________________4. Tila Tila? You mean the one girl who only goes “pyun” a few times? The only one of Team Sayu that has any voice lines that are more than sobs, grunts, tremoring fear, and sounds of triumph?

Yes. That character. You want to know why?

First, lets start with her design. She wears an oversized hoodie and glasses - already two things I can relate to. The color contrast is just perfect between her hair, skin, and hoodie. Her design alone to me screams “high-functioning introvert”.

Her one line? Going “pyun” a few times? Absolutely adorable. I wanted to hear her say more lines, and the delivery of them being so uncertain filtered through a microphone to not come out that way as Sayu? She is definitely the shy one of the four of them. Also let’s not forget she’s Sayu’s voice actress in universe. Meaning that VS Sayu is something that Tila is singing.

Also, in the background material for Sayu, she’s the one that apologizes for using Remi’s art for one of her songs, and starts the collaboration with all four members of Team Sayu. It’s her story we follow. Not any of the other four members, though Remi does actually say something.

Though we don’t get much else of her, which prevents her from taking a spot in my top 3 picks, if we got just a little bit more from her, I’d definitely bump her to 3rd, maybe even let her take 1st. As it stands, compared to the rest of Team Sayu and Sayu herself, top 5 is nothing to sneeze at. ________________________________________________________________3. Kliff “No one like’s Kliff! He’s evil and bad!”

I mostly disagree with that statement, politely of course. Does no one like him? Seems that way in the fandom, but I like him. Is he evil? Yes, most certainly. Is he “bad”? Well, what’s the context of bad in this case? A bad plot-twist? A bad character? A bad guide? Not really. Well, except for the last part, possibly, but even then he’s still serviceable.

I mean take into context that Tatiana is Kul Fyra. On a first viewing, after having fought so many people after first meeting Kliff, most people would have forgotten that he, like Mayday, also likes Kul Fyra and was even there for her concerts. People who have insane memory would remember it, but for the rest of us, it probably came as a shock that Kliff would send a satellite into the NSR tower.

But he’s a fan that put Kul Fyra on a pillar, just like Mayday. He’d hoped that rock artists would get her back into rock music, to reignite the fire in her, so that he could enjoy her music again. He even says that he’s still her fan. He questions Tatiana “did my loyalty mean nothing to you?”.

And while yes, she didn’t technically owe him anything, the way that Tatiana shoots Kliff down so coldly after all of his attempts and his waiting - after she shut herself away from any potential future differing opinions and banning rock so she couldn’t remember the heartache - he snaps.

I’m not saying that Kliff was right, or that his reaction was fully justified. But imagine him saying he’ll be the strategic planner of NSR - after all, it was thanks to him that Mayday and Zuke got as far as they did. They knew what was coming ahead of time due to his advice. Mayday and Zuke would just be figureheads. It would be entirely realistic, and not make Kliff entirely evil.

Still, with all the hypotheticals out of the way, having an entirely selfish twist villain like Kliff was amazing. When you go through the entire story knowing how it will end on a second playthrough, suddenly his motives and what he says makes so much more sense.

I want to see (or maybe someday I’ll write) a redemption arc for Kliff. He’s not so fargone that I’d write him off as another villain for the sake of evil, but it would take actual work and effort. It’s something I look forwards to seeing in the far future.

Though he is also fun to see as an antagonist in all of these stories I read about him. ________________________________________________________________2. Zuke On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d rank Zuke an 11. From his design, to his animations, to his background, his voice, his lines - everything is an 11/10 for me.

Starting with design again, normally I’d dislike the major contrast such a saturated green against a saturated blue. But there’s other bits in Zuke’s design - his red eyes, the fact that his clothing is a good neutral base to draw away from the chaos of colors of his head - only to lead back into what looks like ultra-comfortable blue-and-green flannel with dark blue flats? It all screams the perfect chill dude to hang out with.

His personality matches too. He’s laid-back, wise, rational, humble, and kind. Almost the perfect man in every way. Though he has his limits, especially when it comes to DK West, and he’s not always the most intelligent at times. Sometimes he takes a minute to put two-and-two together, especially when he’s under pressure and nervous.

And his drumsticks being used as a walking cane when he’s not battling, admitting that it’s NSR property - recognizing that NSR itself is not bad, it just needs change. He doesn’t generally talk smack unless, again, it’s DK West. He probably says less than Mayday does out of the two, but I wasn’t counting. I was just thankful that he was talking at all, attempting to be the voice of reason in situations, telling Eve he was wrong for leaving so suddenly (even though he’s not at fault for his hair being set on fire), reconciling with DK West after Mayday gets them to talk about their feelings to each other - he experiences the most growth over the longest period of time.

In fact, it feels like we’re witnessing Zuke’s entire story through the eyes of Mayday. Sure, Mayday has a stake in the conflict, and a small bit of growth, but none nearly so much as the jolly green giant between them. Heck, he’s so good that he made DJ Subatomic Supernova’s music actually sound good.

If this wasn’t enough, he’s also one half of my favorite pairing. Where’s the other half? Where he belongs of course. ________________________________________________________________1. White 1010 Robot |  Rin Look guys, my favorite character of No Straight Roads is finally here. Let me be the ideal fan and give him my utmost attention.

ATTENTION!

Hoo boy have I been waiting to talk about Rin! His design is the one that I love the most despite how simple and obviously pandering it is. I mean come on, he’s got the kind of hairstyle that just screams “typical emo/scene/goth/pop leader” without the sweeping bit of hair in front of the eye like Haym’s or other emo/scene/goth hair styles. He has no unique colors to himself (white and black are technically not colors). Heck, as a robot meant to parody pop/boybands, he technically should be the most bland and uninteresting part of 1010.

But that’s where you’d be wrong. Rin is the one who leads the flirting attempt against Mayday. Rin is the one who is focused on the most of all the 1010 members when the cutscenes play. Rin is the one who’s talking the most in the promotional video for 1010 and No Straight Roads. Even though Zimelu takes up most of the spot in the in-game photo op, Rin is the second most noticable. In the “wefies” the 1010 members make in the promotional video, Rin is front and center.

Rin is the poster child. Meaning he has the most mounting on him of all the members of 1010. And this can manifest in any number of interesting character traits. I’ve already written an (as of posting this review) three chapter fanfic on Rin and his dynamic with not only the other half of my favorite pairing, but also his dynamic with Neon J, and how both Zuke and Neon J view Rin - through what I perceive how Rin actually feels and acts when he’s not on stage.

I could probably do an entire 20 minute review on why Rin is the single-best character of No Straight Roads, both in and out of canon, but I don’t have the tools for it. And as a side note, the guitar solo that Mayday can play over the song is the single-best of all the guitar solos, the second being the one against Yinu - and that deep passion for 1010 is reflected well in the guitar solo.

Zuke may be an 11/10, but Rin is a perfect 10/10 - and I wouldn’t have it any other way . ________________________________________________________________Afterwords Finally, after an entire 4 hours of writing, I’d like to hear your thoughts on all of this, if you’ve made it this far.

What did you agree and disagree with? Feel free to comment if you want.

As for me, I think I’ll continue to browse the work of the fandom, keep an ear out for any future updates or sequels, and rock on with the amazing soundtrack of No Straight Roads jamming loudly in my ears.

Rock on fellow No Straight Roads fans! Or whatever genre you prefer to listen to.

[edelwoodsouls]

calling out for one more try (to feel alive) - ch. 1

Adam hasn't been able to sing since he found out what his parents do for a living. Until he stumbles across the ghosts of a band who died twenty-five years ago, and the world begins to look a little brighter. But how did they die? What did they leave behind? (and why is the front man so freaking cute??)

(ghost band au, or the jatp au that possessed me last night and wouldn’t let go)

Shoutout to @exhaustedwerewolf for putting up with my yelling and giving me some brillianty angsty thoughts for later plot

Word Count: 3,071 | Also on Ao3

chapter one: wake up, wake up (if it's all you do)

Adam

It's quiet in the music room.

Just outside the door he can sense the seething mass of teenagers and noise and colour, the pantomine of a clockwork life ticking onwards. But in here it's quiet, and the world stretches out in a haze of blue and grey.

His fingers rest on the piano in front of him, slotting perfectly against the keys. A heartbeat away from making sound, falling short.

He could spend a life in this moment. Let the whole world slip away into silence. He stares at his splayed fingers, stark against the pale keys. Just play, he thinks. Shatter this moment into fragments, break free from the weights around his ankles dragging him slowly to the bottom of the blue.

Just play.

"Adam."

He looks up. He hadn't even noticed her open or close the door, but there stands Chloe, hands on her hips, blond hair so frizzy it looks like its about to make a break for the sky. There's paint on her nose and splattered all over her overalls in messy, natural way aesthetic influencers could only dream of.

"Oh, hey, Chloe. What's up?"

She gives him a frown, hands on her hips. "I could hear your thoughts from the art studio." She raises an eyebrow. "That's on the other side of school, Adam."

"Oh, uh. Sorry."

"Don't you dare apologise!" She comes to sit beside him at the piano, leaning against his shoulder. "You know you don't have to apologise to me, of all people. I know what you're going through."

"Whether I want you to or not."

"Pros and cons of having a mind reader for a best friend," she shrugs, a smile playing on her lips.

They've been friends ever since they started high school, the quiet creative kids who spent more time in their own heads than the world around them. Silent lunches together had become awkward murmured conversations had become a tentative friendship.

That was before Chloe started hearing voices in her head, and Adam found out what his parents do for a living.

Sophomore year had been pretty intense, and their friendship had been forged in fire.

It's certainly strange having a mind reader for a best friend, but it comes with perks. Like not having to name the endless blue sea in his chest for her to understand what it is.

"You nervous?" she asks.

"Do you even need to ask?"

"I like to hear it from the source, sometimes."

"Isn't my brain the real source, technically? So you're always going direct, unless you listen to someone speaking instead of thinking?"

She narrows her eyes in mock annoyance. "You're deflecting. But it's okay, I'll let you. I know you're stressed out."

How could he not be stressed out? There's an unscaleable wall inside his mind, behind which he's trapped everything he cares about. Music. Feelings. Sunshine.

He hasn't played the piano, hasn't sung, since Chloe stumbled across a homeless man with thoughts of Adam's parents burned into his brain. Can't bring himself to even press into the keys resting under his fingers.

And now he's about to get kicked out of the music programme, if he can't perform today.

"I've got this," he says, and from Chloe's expression he's not fooling anyone.

"Even if you can't play, Adam, you know that doesn't make you a terrible person, right? People want you to play for  you, because it used to mean so much to you, not because they think you're only worth what you create."

"Mm," he shrugs noncommittally, as if she hasn't hammered right to home. As if he hasn't always judge his own worth by what he can do.

This is his thing.  What is he without it?

"I'm gonna get to class early," he says, pushing away towards the door before Chloe can stop him and confront him on his so-called unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka - none). "I'll see you later."

"I'm rooting for you!" she calls after him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he weavs through the halls. He doesn't dare to check it; knows that it's his parents wishing him luck.

The absolute last thing he needs. The one thing, in fact, more likely to throw him off performing than anything else.

He isn't the first to arrive to class, as much as he'd hoped. He could never be that lucky -  of course Caitlin is already there, surrounded by her entourage.

"Oh hey, Adam," she smiles, more viper than girl, as he spills into the doorway. She's dressed stunningly as always, pale purples and creams.

The jacket Adam bought her for her birthday last year, before everything.

If she rememebers, she doesn't say anything, looking down at him with the look of someone regarding an insect.

He knows he deserves it. They'd been close, before last year, but how could he possibly explain everything to her? How could he explain the rainclouds that gathered above his head and made a home? How could he explain what his parents did, the whole world of the atypical, without being thought completely crazy?

It had been easier to let her go, and she had taken it personally. Friendly rivalry had become enemies.

He can't feel enough today to even be sad.

"Hey, Cait," he shrugs into his seat.

"I'm surprised you came today. Wasn't yesterday your last chance?"

She knows that's not true, is trying to get a rise out of him. He busies himself with leafing, unseeing, through the sheet music he's half-heartedly prepared for today.

He already knows he's not going to be using it.

Caitlin sighs dramatically and turns back to her group, the conversation quickly drifting away from him. Frankie is staring at Adam, trying to catch his eye, to ask if he's okay, but he ignores that, too. As he much as he appreciates him - the only other atypical in school apart from Chloe, who knows a little of everything that went to shit last year but has also very clearly thrown his lot in with Caitlin - he doesn't want to give Caitlin reason to pause.

Better to fade into obscurity.

He doesn't notice the rest of the class file in. Doesn't notice the teacher begin the lesson, or the other performances that come and go.

"Your turn, Adam," Mr Beck says gently, and the world snaps back into focus.

Every eye in the room is on him.

He makes it to the piano without breathing. Chest constricting, world contracting to a single, narrowed point. There's cotton wool in his ears, spots dancing in the corners of his vision.

His fingers rest on the keys.

Just play.

Just play just play just play just play just play just-

"I'm sorry." He stands up suddenly and, without looking back, flees the room.

It feels like freedom.

It feels like the cell door slamming shut behind him.

~/~/~/~

When he gets home, he heads straight around the back, avoiding the risk of his parents being home.

Tears burn in his eyes but he refuses to blink them away. He can’t bear to see the sadness on his parents’ faces, the confusion, when they find out he’s been kicked out of the music programme.

Because they know they’re the reason he stopped. They just don’t understand, or refuse to try to, why he’s still not over it.

As if his horror at human experimentation should have a shelf life.

Behind their house is the old garage slash studio his parents had soundproofed, back when Adam first got into the music programme. They’d been so proud, and the world had been so full, back them.

He hasn't been back inside his studio since he found out what his parents do for a living. His mom had been the one to first bring music into his life, and now he can’t trust anything she's ever given him. This studio is built on blood money and half-truths.

The air is thick with dust when he slips inside. Sunlight filters through the garage door window, catching the dust motes in beams, spinning dizzily like planets.

His piano sits in the centre of the room, untouched, surrounded by boxes of half-packed things - relics of Adam’s childhood, old memories and things that might be useful someday, left over objects the last owners of this house forgot to take with them.

He has the sudden urge to smash everything in this room apart.

Instead, he takes a steadying breath. It’s not like he needs a studio anymore - may as well start packing his things away along with the rest of these forgotten memories.

He grabs a half-full box at random and begins shoving things into it haphazardly. The first notebook he wrote songs in. The headphones his aunt gave him that only work through one ear now. The metronome perched on top of the piano, its slider in the shape of a smiley face.

The sellotape at the bottom of the box gives out just as he’s shoving a second notebook in, and everything clatters onto the floor. Of course. This is on par with the rest of his day, really.

He stoops to begin picking things back up when he sees it: a CD box, dusty with age. The front cover is watercolour, blue blending with yellow to create a sea of green in the middle. The band name -  Atypical!  - is emblazoned in black across it.

He doesn't recognise it, though it's in a box of his old things. One of his parents’, maybe? Or left over by the last owners? Curiosity guides his hands, and before he knows it he's clicking play on the old CD player his mom gave him for his twelfth birthday.

Music bursts into the room for the first time in a year, swells to fill the space. This room has felt hollow and empty, a black hole pulling at light, this whole time- until now.

It's good music, too. Rhythm sinks into his bones, sparking something inside him he hadn't thought was still alive.

He's so caught in the music, it takes him a minute to notice the air is beginning to shake. Not with the soundwaves- he's not playing it that loud - but the space in front of the speaker is shivering and shimmering, like a heatwave.

He can't say when it happens, can't pinpoint the moment his life pitches off a ledge. Between one blink and the next- they just appear.

Adam blinks. He blinks again. Rubs at his eyes until they're swimming.

They're still there.

There are three people in his studio. Strangers, teenagers about his own age, two guys and a girl.

The first guy is dark haired, dressed in an over-sized pink hoodie, so many leather bracelets peeking out from his pushed-up sleeves he looks more straps than skin. The girl wears her black hair in space buns that are trying their hardest to escape her head. A slashed denim jacket covered in patches, black pleated skirt, neon green and black striped leg warmers.

It's the second guy that stops Adam's heart in his chest. Bright green eyes, styled golden curls spilling over one side of his face. He's dressed in a red high school lettermans jacket, except the sleeves have been cut off, showing off muscles that are frankly unfair given the current situation. He's staring around the studio in surprised confusion, eyes darting over the room in a remarkably familiar way.

His eyes land on Adam, and it's like lightning has struck. Adam's breath vanishes from his chest.

"Who the fuck are you?" he manages.

"What do you mean who the fuck are you?" the guy narrows his eyes. His voice is low and hypnotic. "Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in our studio?"

Frustrated anger crushes any confusion momentarily. "Your studio? Dude, this is my studio."

"Uh, no, it isn't. Look-" the guy all but lunges across the room, as if he knows exactly where to go. He digs through a pile of discarded objects and emerges seconds later with a guitar clutched triumphantly in his hands. "See! This is my guitar."

"That guitar's been there since my parents moved in. Seventeen years ago."

The guy deflates suddenly, and Adam feels immediately guilty, finds himself wanting to find any way to reignite his enthusiasm.

"We're dead," the guy in the pink hoodie says, in a nonchalant way, as if this is a perfectly normal thing to say. He waves an awkward hello, a bashful grin. "Hey, sorry about him. He's a total jock sometimes."

"Hey-"

"You are, Caleb. Embrace your brand."

The cute guy - Caleb? - pouts, still clinging to his guitar. It’s ridiculously adorable.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused," Adam says slowly, mind racing along with his heart. "You're dead?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, this is a lot, huh? I'm Mark." He sticks his hand out to shake and Adam, instinctively, reaches out to take it.

Their hands pass right through each other.

Welp. Not much more proof he needs.

"Ghosts," he breathes, staring at the place where their hands should have met.

"Oh my god, it wasn't a dream," the girl says, voice high and taut with anxiety. She's twirling drumsticks in her hands - where did she get those? - so fast they blur into panic-inducing windmills at her side. "I really thought- that maybe- but no-  but how long have we been- I mean, maybe we just- but that means-"

Her gasped sentences are triggering a tightening in Adam's own chest.

"Hey," Mark says softly, reaching over and putting a hand on her shoulder. The twirling freezes immediately, their eyes locking. "Sam, it's okay. We're okay. We're safe."

"We're dead," Caleb deadpans. How is he holding that guitar if he's incorporeal? None of this makes sense.

"Well nothing can hurt you when you're dead," Adam says before he can think better of it. Three pairs of eyes fix on him, unblinking.

"Oh my god," Caleb laughs suddenly, snapping the silence instantly. "I love this kid."

"I'm not a kid - you look the same age as me!"

"Sure, kid," Mark says, turning back to the girl - Sam. "Look, I know this sucks. But for now, we're okay. We've got each other, yeah?"

Sam nods shakily, tapping the drumsticks in a nervous but manageable rhythm against each other.

Caleb practically bounces across the room to Adam. "Hey. Sorry for the freak out. We, uh, we've been through a lot."

"Not surprised, considering you're dead."

Caleb cracks a grin that makes Adam's insides swoop. "What's your name?"

What's my name. His brain short circuits. "Uh, I'm Adam."

"Adam! Cool. That's really cool. How're you so cool with all this?"

"What?"

"You're, like, super chill about this. We just showed up in your studio and told you we're dead. Wouldn't most people freak out about that?"

Why isn't he freaking out? He supposes there isn't much left that can surprise him, after everything. Superpowers? Evil scientists for parents? Ghosts seems like a logical progression.

"You're not the weirdest thing I've seen. Wait, hang on- how did you know I was so chill?"

Caleb's face plummets like he's been caught in a lie, face cycling through too many emotions to translate.

It clicks like a spark to a fuse, understanding crashing through him so fast he's almost knocked over. How the hell did he not put two and two together?

"Oh my god, you're atypicals!"

It's as if he dropped a bomb in the centre of the room. The three ghosts freeze, not in the surprise of before, but palpable, chilling fear.

Sam vanishes.

"Fuck," Mark hisses. Takes a slow breath to gather himself. "It's okay. She'll be back soon. No need to worry."

He sounds very worried.

Caleb is so close to Adam he towers above him. If it wasn't for the open, imploring eyes, Adam would have his own fear thrumming through his chest. "How do you know that?"

"I mean, I played a CD for a band called Atypical! and you appeared. I’m guessing that’s your band? And you said you knew how I was feeling, I'm guessing you're an empath?"

“You listened to our CD?” Mark asks, bright-eyed. “What did you think?”

"More important,” Caleb shoots Mark a look, “how do you  know  about atypicals?"

"Caleb, he can see ghosts!" Mark throws his hands up in exasperation. "He's obviously atypical, too."

"Uh, no- I'm not- at least, I don't think-"

Adam's brain grinds to a halt. Is he atypical? He's never had reason to consider it. He's always been at the periphery, a totally average human looking in through a window at the miracles and atrocities on the other side.

Wouldn't Chloe know if he was atypical? Not if he didn't, he supposes.

Do his parents know? They can't, can they?

The pit in Adam's stomach becomes a sickening, plummeting vacuum.

"My best friend is atypical," he says quietly, carefully boxing away those dizzying thoughts and burying them beneath the sea of blue in his mind. For future consideration.

Or never.

"Oh, cool." Caleb says, no doubt feeling the hurricane going on just beneath his surface. "What can they do?"

"She’s a mind reader. Great in class, not so much fun at parties. Ha." The words fall flat. He's in shock, he thinks. The world is distant, slipping back beneath the grey fog of the rest of the day.

Mark grimaces. "Okay, kid- Adam - I know this is a lot, but you need to chill."

"Chill?"

"Your emotions are all over the place. We haven't been around people in a long while, aren't used to other people's emotions."

"You're an empath too?"

"Mirror. I take on other people's powers when they're around."

“That’s cool.” His parents would have a field day if they knew about this guy.

“Most of the time,” Mark says, something odd and hitching in his voice. “Not right now, though.”

“I can go,” Caleb frowns. “If it’s getting too much-”

“No, no,” Adam interrupts, guilt rising up to churn alongside his apathy. He feels bad enough when he inflicts his depressive thoughts on Chloe - he can’t imagine how awful the emotions themselves must feel. “I’ll go. It’s, uh, it’s been a long day. I’m sorry. I just-”

He flees the room, for the second time that day.

He really does ruin everything.