#i just have always felt like a coward and need to grow a backbone instead of messing things up for myself

[crimson-femme]

sometimes i feel so isolated and bad that i only like butches. it's not that i'm ashamed of my attraction i just don't want to feel like i'm fetishizing them or have people think i would ever use them. people assume that i secretly like men or am trying to replicate heterosexuality even if they don't directly say it (i never miss the insinuations). i remember feeling sick to my stomach when girls in my class would say cruel things about the girl i had a crush on who was a tomboy. i really tried not to stare at her. i wasn't looking because i thought she was weird; i just couldn't stop because she was so beautiful and no one else seemed to see her the way i did. my face would turn bright red, and my heart would race when my classmates said rude things about her. i was scared of what they would think of me if they thought she was weird and abnormal. i was only six and i already felt like a creep just for having my first crush. it confused me so much at that age because i thought there was something wrong with me because i didn't like boys but i liked her and she "dressed like a boy," played with boys, etc...

it’s homophobic rhetoric to conflate same-sex attraction with perversion and fetish and i hate that people have made me feel like there is something wrong with me for liking masculinity but not males. and it makes me feel worse because there is nothing wrong or abnormal with being butch, and i would never want butches to think i think of them that way. i have just been taught to feel shame for my sexuality and attraction to female masculinity. i still sometimes feel like people think it's a fetish or think i want to be straight when i am still homosexual just like i would be if i liked feminine women.

[osita-iza]

Tadashi Yamaguchi: Notes Along the Pages

Summary: Tadashi falls for the bookworm he’s friends with in class. He decides the best way to confess is to leave you notes in one of your favorite books. 

Word Count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Vague spoilers for Jane Eyre lol

A/n: Self-indulgent fluff of someone who enjoyed English class 

A hopeless romantic is a person who holds sentimental and idealistic views on love, especially in spite of experience, evidence, or exhortations otherwise.

Tadashi was one of the first people you became friends with in secondary school. Most people’s eyes would begin to glaze over after two minutes of you raving over books, which was one of your favorite activities. Not Tadashi’s though. Even if he didn’t know any of the characters or plot points, he would nod excitedly as you ranted over how the main character needed to grow a backbone or how the heroine was blind to the love interest’s advances. That was the foundation for your friendship that continued all through to third year. 

That’s why you didn’t question him when he handed you a copy of Jane Eyre, one of your favorite books. He was blushing more than usual, but you knew he could sometimes overthink things and be embarrassed. He had listened to you rave about every aspect of the book for years at this point, and you had borrowed it from the library countless times. “I actually read it,” he muttered. His cheeks burned brighter when your eyes shined as you took in the book. “It was as good as you said it was,” 

“I told you!” You pulled him into a hug. “But you really didn’t have to buy me this Tadashi. This is so sweet,” 

He shrugged, and you didn’t notice how his eyes softened at your excitement. “I figured you’ve read it so many times, you need your own copy at this point. Plus, it’s a classic, so it really didn’t cost that much,” 

You two continued on to class like normal. At lunch, you decided to go to the library to read, a common habit for you. You smiled to yourself as you cracked open the spine. You were almost completely alone, the only companions being students doing homework at the library’s computers. On the first page, a sticky note greeted you. 

This was one of the first books you talked to me about in first year, and I actually bought this that year. You complained about some of what Rochester did, but that you knew that he needed to fall in love with Jane. I remember I could feel the love you had for this book and its characters, and I just wanted to experience that too. I wanted to see what it was about this book that made you love it so much. What was so special? 

Then I read the book. While it is an amazing book, I did realize something. 

You were what was special. 

Your chest felt tight as you finished reading the sticky note. His writing was tiny and scrunched up together, something you always teased him about how difficult it was to read at times. As if he was so shy even his writing was trying to hide. You remembered how he listened to your overenthusiastic ramblings about the budding romance between Rochester and Jane. He was the first one who did, only one in fact. 

Without hesitation, you skipped through pages until you reached another sticky note. It was the scene where Jane met her best friend, Helen; the bright sticky note staring back against the black print. 

Okay I just finished this section and why didn’t you tell me what happens to Helen?!!! That really hurt. 

I get why you love Helen so much though. She’s so calm and peaceful. She’s  an angel, kind of like you. Even though it was her comforting Jane, I kept imagining your face.

I remember when we first met. Don’t tell Tsukishima, but I was terrified of going into high school. There were so many new people, and rules, and things I had to remember. Tsukishima was the only person I knew from my middle school that came to Karasuno, so I was worried about feeling like an outcast. 

And then I got assigned to sit next to you for my first class. I don’t know what stars aligned for that to happen, but I’m really happy that it did. You were so excited that someone would listen to you about a book that you weren’t disappointed when I didn’t know how to respond. I never said it, but I could listen to you talk about books all day. You get so excited; it’s like you’re a battery and I get some of your energy when you do. When I was upset cause I was a coward, you told me that my shyness was cute to you. That me being quiet meant that I had more time to understand people on a deeper level before I spoke. Doesn’t mean I don’t still feel like a coward sometimes, but I always hear your voice reminding me I’m not when I do. You were my Helen. 

There was a bright smile on your face as you reread the sticky note’s sloppy writing on the front and back. You remembered that day too. He had been tense in the seat next to you, and you chose to ignore him until you saw him trying to catch the title of the book you were reading. That observation sparked the strong friendship between the two of you- one that transcended summer breaks, finals, and different schedules. It bloomed into trips to the mall, late night phone calls, and studying with each other on the weekend. 

Skipping through the pages, there were more and more annotations. Comments on the amazing writing, the “expensive” words the author used that he had to look up, and the amazing romance between your favorite characters. You made a note to go back through and read all of them later on. Right now, you were focused on finding more of these sticky notes. 

The next sticky note was during the proposal scene between Jane and Rochester, when they admitted that they loved each other. Large sticky notes that covered almost the entirety of the page were placed there. 

One time I asked you why you liked reading romance books so much, especially because you didn’t watch a lot of romance movies. I was walking you back home from the library because it was dark. You got this dazed look in your eye when I asked you. I wonder if you remember what you said... 

You did. 

You told me, in books, the author can’t rely on swelling music, or a pretty face, or fancy camerawork to make you believe two people are in love. They can only use words. You said that people were forced to use their words, and that reading it was so sweet and intimate, and you loved it. That the idea of someone thinking you’re as beautiful of the stars sooooo strongly that they have to tell you- that they’ll explode if you don’t know- was one of the most passionate and romantic things you could imagine.

You said you couldn’t imagine someone doing that for you, but the idea was really sweet. Ever since I heard you say that, I realized that the idea of you not getting that left a bad taste in my mouth. Because, god, you really deserve it.

You let out a shaky breath as you reread his words over and over again. Tadashi had never hinted that he felt that strongly about you. It felt nice that he thought of you so often, that your conversations replayed as much in his head as they did in yours. That he cared about you a lot, and he needed you to know that. 

Your nerves were going crazy as you imagined Tadashi’s face. His smile and burning cheeks was one of the cutest things you had seen in your life. He was one of the cutest things you had seen in your life. You wondered what his smile would be like when you saw him next. Would his cheeks burn that beautiful rosy pink when he saw you holding the book?

You skimmed the pages, some having doodles in the margin, and you got to a page that had one of Jane and St. John’s conversations on it when you saw another sticky note. You giggled at the first line: 

He is one of the worst people I’ve ever read about >:( 

I understand every single rant you went on about him. I still don’t think that I fully understand everything you said about him because you talked a lot about history and Victorian patriarchy, and it’s sometimes hard to keep up, especially because when you get excited you talk really fast. 

I love when you talk like that. Even if I never understand what you’re talking about ever again, I want you to keep talking to me like that. You look so cute and passionate about it. Your voice sometimes goes to a higher pitch too, god, I love it when you do that. It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. 

You skipped ahead, catching him comment ‘Thank god’ next to the sentence where Jane decided to go back to Thornfield. It made you smile, happy that he got excited by the plot too. 

The amount of annotations increased, but the comments got smaller and smaller throughout the rest of the book. You were somewhat disappointed until you got to the last chapter. The only visible line was “Reader, I married him.” The rest of the book’s page was covered by a piece of notebook paper that was taped to it, folded up to fit inside the book’s cover. 

Okay, so I saw this book at a bookstore first-year. I bought it, read it, and I planned to give it to you and ask you out at the same time. Obviously, that didn’t happen. I was too shy to give it to you, so instead it built up dust in my bedroom. Then, you said that you never 8thought you would get to experience all of the stuff that happened in your books. 

And I didn’t know how to respond because whenever I read a line that would be considered romantic in this book, or any book, I always thought of you. All of the love songs, rom-coms, books, and cliches became about you. I understood all of those deep metaphors English teachers tried to get me to care about because I happened to sit next to you in class. So I’ll be completely honest with you and all of the ways that I’ve unknowingly found myself romanticizing you.  

In simplest terms, you’re existence is pure poetry. 

Sometimes you would wait for us after practice, and the sunset would come down and reflect off of you in the best way. You’re usually on your phone or reading a book. There’s a moment before you notice that we’re outside, and you’re completely at peace. I think I fall in love with you every time I see the light reflect off of your peaceful face. I wish I was an artist just so I could paint that picture over and over again. 

Your voice is like music, whether you’re whispering snide comments to me in the middle of class, or ugly singing to songs when we’re alone, or ranting about how amazing the couple you’re reading about is. If I had to give up music or listening to your voice, I would give up every song in the world in a heartbeat. 

I’ve spent so much time getting to know you, and I don’t think I could ever associate you with disappointment. All I want is to keep learning about you because there’s always something new to learn. Everything about you, from your personality, to how you speak, to that face that must have been sculpted is just captivating to me. You’re being is a museum dedicated to you, and loving you is getting the chance to explore just a corner of the museum. If it were up to me, I would spend everyday for the rest of my life trying to explore the rest of the art that is you. 

Honestly, I think I’ve been in love with you ever since first-year; it just took me a long time to figure out how to verbalize it. Even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know that someone has loved you that much. I love you that much. 

Folding the paper back up, you checked your phone, seeing that there wasn’t that much time left in lunch. You wanted to see Tadashi, but what were you supposed to say to that kind of confession? There was an intense energy in your body, but you had no idea how to utilize it. 

You grabbed the book and your backpack, knowing Tadashi was likely at lunch with some of the other volleyball boys. As you stepped into the cafeteria, heart hammering against your chest, you saw him laughing along with his friends. He glanced over to where you were, as if he could feel your presence. 

His cheeks immediately began to burn pink, and he said something to his friends before leaving the table and walking towards you. All of his friends turned their heads to look at you as Tadashi stepped in front of you. “So... did you read the stuff I wrote?” he mumbled. His eyes avoiding yours. 

“Yeah, I did...” You began running your finger up and down the pages of the book in your hands, sometimes catching a sticky note that was sticking out of the side. 

Tadashi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if any of it made you uncomfortable I just want-” 

“Are you free Saturday?” His eyes widened, and he stared at you for a couple of moments. You let out a stilted laughter at his silence. “So... is that a yes?” 

“Yes!” Tadashi said, cringing when he realized how loud his response was. “I mean... of course.” 

You nodded, not knowing what else to say. He looked so adorable right now. You wanted to pull him into your arms, tell him how beautiful you thought he was, how you had been staring at him for just as long, how you loved everything about him. 

The bell rang before you could though. Plus, you weren’t sure if you had the courage to say all of those things to him in the moment. You settled for grabbing his wrist to pull him closer to you. Tadashi furrowed his eyebrows at your action before his face somehow turned redder as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “I think you’re poetry too, Tadashi,” you whispered. 

His body felt like jelly as you said his name. A soft smile came across his face as you leaned back. “I’m glad I told you then,” he said. 

You giggled before holding up the copy of Jane Eyre. “I am definitely keeping this,” you replied. 

“Not too cheesy?” 

“Never worry about being too cheesy with me,” you giggled before you stepped away from him. “I’ll see you Saturday.” 

He nodded, watching you hold the book close to your chest, as if you needed it to remind you of all of the words he wrote. And Yamaguchi promised himself that he would remind you of those words himself at every opportunity he would get. 

[diary-of-deadweight]

Strawberry pocky is the best pocky.

Paring: Bakugou x reader

Summary: getting pressured into doing the pocky game with Bakugou sure is a confidence boost *types in sarcasm*

Tw: swearing cuz Bakugou. And badly rushed writting.

“Just do it!” Mina exclaimed, trying -and failing- to shove some strawberry coated pocky sticks into your hand while attempting to convince you to grow some balls and do the pocky game with Bakugou, who was currently in his room doing whatever, you didn’t bother to ask as you respect the private time of others then most of your classmates, “ it’s only a game, you just over thinks things too much and forget to relax sometimes and gain the confidence to do what you want to do without hesitation,” “umm Mina...” “and your road to confidence starts here!” The pinkette cuts you off as she knocked on Bakugou’s door, shoved the box of pocky in your hand and bolted down the hall like a cartoon character off of looney toons, leaving you dumbfounded at what the fuck just happened in the spam of less then an hour, unaware of the hand that stretched out from the open doorway, grasping at your forearm causing you to squeak in shock before being pulling in just as fast as the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Mina, maybe we should just leave them be and let them do it when they’re ready instead of pretending to be Cupid in hopes of making the process faster,” said Sero from his spot between Denki and Kirishima to Mina who was keeping a keen eye on Bakugou’s room with hawk like vision, “Bakugou ain’t really that in tune with his emotions and (y/n) is always uncertain or very avoidant when it comes to relationships.”

“I’m hungry can I go?” Denki whined, throwing his body onto Sero’s lap dramatically, clutching his stomach as it growled loud enough for the four friends to hear it in it’s entirety.

“Mina, I’m sure your heart was in the right place but...what is this going to prove?” Kirishima asked as he looked at the time on his phone and hissed through his teeth before showing Denki and Sero who looked over at him in worry and repeated the hiss between their own teeth this time as they saw what flashed across the screen.

‘9:45’

15 minutes till Aizawa calls curfew.

Mina didn’t answer any of their questions as her sights remained on that damn door with a burning determination.

“It makes me wonder if you’ve ever in your life ever used the word ,that was created for these types of situations, it’s ‘no’” The scarlet eyed Pomeranian told you as he was clearing up his desk from his studying so he wouldn’t loose anything vital and didn’t make him out to be a total slob, tossing away the empty box of strawberry pocky you both clammed down on when you explained how were forcibly dragged up til present time, he looked up to where you were when he heard no reply of ‘I don’t like hurting peoples feelings’ come from your mouth to see why that was.

‘He’s got me there, when HAS there been a time I ever told someone no, he probably thinks I’m a push over with no backbone or a people pleaser, a complete suck up, a coward, the biggest wuss in U.A!’

“It’s Mina, I couldn’t say no to her and her puppy dog eyes Bakugou. I swear she has me under an obedience spell or something.” You rambled on as you twiddled your fingers, a habit you picked up whenever you were placed under pressure, overwhelmed or nervous to an anxious extent, refusing to make eye contact with the boisterous male who was making his way over to you with a oddly calm front, not saying anything as he let you ramble for as long as you need before wrapping you in his strong, warm arms, your muscles automatically relaxed as you sighed in relief, resting your heavy head in the crook of his neck as his intoxicatingly sweet scent puts your racing mind at ease. You felt safe, comforted, and at ease within his arms as you felt yourself slowly give way to enticing offer of sleep as you didn’t get any decent sleep last night.

“Your overthinking again idiot, all I’m saying is that you have the ability to say no but you seem to have the need to bend over backwards just to get into someone’s good graces when in actuality that’s not the case, I just don’t want you getting taken advantage of.” Bakugou said gruffly, his chin perched on top of your head, his arms around your waist and upper back, his calloused hands soothingly rubbing patterns into your clothed form, “Raccoon eyes shouldn’t have pressured you to do anything your not comfortable with, she goes overboard without realising the heart being done until it’s too late.”

You didn’t say anything as your mind was too relaxed to formate any words that isn’t just incoherent babbling, you just snuggled further into him, having trouble keeping your heavy weighed eyelids that beg you for decent sleep for once and you didn’t have the strength within you to resist the temptation much longer so before you knew it, your eyes were closed in an instant and your body felt like led as your breathing evened out, fanning across his neck and the sensation of added weight upon him made him realise that you fell asleep within his arms, which he would most defiantly hold against you the next day as a means seeing you blush redder the the reddest rose as he found it really cute, he knew he couldn’t stand like this all night so he decided to let you sleep in his room for tonight then carry you all the way over to your own dorm, where you will most likely be ambushed by Mina who would ask if you got any lip action, making you more uncomfortable you already were.

He picked you up bridal style and got you tucked in comfortable as he mentally thanked god that you were already in comfortable clothing, that would’ve been a very weird thing to explain if you woke up to him tugging off your pants, it would give off the wrong impression that’s for certain, he went into the bathroom to change into some comfortable wear before big spooning you, completely spent from the events today brought.

So...did you guys kiss?” Mina asked you while you were chugging on some orange juice, almost chocking on it in the process as you looked around the common room in case someone overheard your conversation but it seems that everyone was too busy immersed with their own conversations to even bother ease-dropping on someone else’s conversation, their mothers didn’t raise no distressful, nosy bitches.

“Ummmm we-ugh”

‘Say something or else she’ll make you go through it again!’

“Stop rummaging your nose in other people’s business raccoon eyes.” Your savour Bakugou told the eccentric pinkette as he plopped down on the seat to your left, casually tossing his arm around your waist, drawing you close into his side, making you blush furiously as Mina could only look on with wide sparkling eyes as if she was meeting Justin Timberlake, trying so hard not to scream at the top of her lungs like a fan girl at a Justin Bieber concert as she dashed out of her seat across from you over to where Kiri, Denki and Sero were sat, rambling about how her plan worked, giving you some peace and quiet for now as that won’t last long the second you both get to class.

“We’re dating now, got that idiot?” The scarlet eyed tsundere told you straight forwardly, poking his fork into his breakfast, shoving it into his mouth.

“Sounds alright to me, I’m not complaining.” You said softly, grateful to have some pressure taken off of your shoulders as you snuggled into his side as a blush coated his face up to his ears.

[cynicalwonders]

Akumanette: Strings

Day 13

@marinettemarch

Honestly, it wasn't surprising.

With all the responsibility, pressures and heartache, was it really a surprise that this would be the result in the end?

Marinette found the whole thing rather funny. She was so used to being a kind, forgiving, self-sacrificing, punching bag, and look where it got her. What was it that led to this? Lila's lies and manipulation? Chloe's never-ending barrage of insults? Alya belittling of her emotions and dismissing her? Adrien's downplaying of her feelings, telling her to ‘take the high road' and ignore Lila when he wasn't the one being bullied and threaten? The entire class turning their back on her after everything she did for them? All of the above?

She didn't even try to fight off the akuma as it fazed into her hair ribbon.

She was just tired.

Tired of being used and abused.

Of fixing everyone else's problems and ignoring her own.

Of having Tikki lecturing her for doing something selfish when all she's done was be selfless.

Of Master Fu telling her to do the ‘right thing' when she was 14 years old and had the world on her shoulders.

Of Chat Noir being a pissy little brat that would sooner throw away his responsibility because she didn't reciprocate his feeling.

Why?

Why her?

Why did bad happen to her?

It almost was a relief when she heard Hawkmoth's baritone voice, whispering false promises in her head as the darkness washed over her. She didn't bother fighting it. She sighed when she heard Alya freak out as she was akumatized. She didn't even flinch when her classmates' screams and shrieks were silenced as they all become wooden figurines of themselves.

What was her akuma's name?

The Puppeteer? The Marionette? Something boring and unoriginal?

Oh well, it didn't matter. Most of her classmates, save for Adrien who somehow got away, were puppets. Like the expert craftswoman she was, she made a little stage for them – a replica of their classroom and her puppet class played out the moments before she was possessed.  Not like they had a choice when their limbs were wooden and their moments controlled by strings.

"Please Marinette," cried Alya, her voice echoing from the wooden puppet. It sounded like she was crying. "I'm sorry!"

"I know you are, Alya," replied Marinette soothingly. "But you hurt my feelings. So, I must punish you. But don't worry, it won't be forever. I'll forgive you all eventually because that's what friends do."

She chuckled as the strings made her puppet classmates dance to her will. "Aren't we all friends? Do remember how much I've done for you all? All those sweet, kind gestures I did? All the presents for your birthdays? All the favors I did for you? How I comforted you all in your time of need? How I stood up to Chloe when she was bullying you? I even helped Chloe with her mommy-issues! And how did you all respond to that?"

Suddenly the dancing strings were yanked taut and each puppet was rendered motionless.

"With lies, insults and general indifference to my plight! How many years did I share the same class with you all and that soulless harpy?! How many times was I put down and humiliated by Chloe and you all did NOTHING but watch? What was going through your mind when this was happening? Oh, I know: ‘at least it's not me', right?! What that RIGHT?!"

No response. Marinette shuddered as she tried to reign in her emotion.

"Nino. You've known me for years," she glanced down at the puppet of said boy. "You even said you had a crush on me. But not ONCE did you ever stand up for me. Not ONCE did you ever help me or comfort me after the daily torment I endured. Too content with staying in the background, huh? Well don't worry, you weren't that memorable anyway."

"Same with you Nathaniel," the redheaded puppet looked like it wanted to shrink under her gaze. "Thought I shouldn't have expected too much from you. You were always a coward. Especially with Chloe. And that awful thing you said and did to poor sweet Marc…I guess you don't mind putting down others when you have power over them?"

"Sweet little Rose. Shy Juleka. Scaredy-cat Mylene. What can I say about you three? Other than the fact that you three are pretty useless and need everyone else and an akuma to stand up for yourselves," Marinette held up the three female puppets at eye-level. "Seriously, can't you three do anything for yourselves? All of you are so content with being the victim it's nauseating."

"Poor Juleka with her photo curse. Poor Rose can't get her fan letter to Prince Ali. Poor Mylene fears everything!" Marinette recited with a mocking tone. "Give me a break! Haven't you ever heard of doing things for yourself? Of taking charge of your own life? Or do you three just expect everyone and everything to help you out when life gets tough? That'd be quite a pathetic life, don't you think?"

And she went on and on with each and every student. Insulting them. Berating them. Making them feel small and worthless, just as they made her feel. Their sadness and anxiety bled through their wooden, stoic faces as they cried apologizes, but she felt nothing.

‘They're only sorry that they're in this predicament,' Marinette thought. ‘As soon as they are rescued, they go back to their ways.'

"And then there was Alya," Marinette didn't bother masking the venom dripping from her voice. "I thought you were different. I thought you would be my first real friend after years of being ignored by everyone else. I thought you would stand up for me and have my back. And for a while, I believed it. But now I know that was all a crock of shit! You never gave a rat's ass about me! I was nothing to you but a convenient lackey to have! But the minute someone new and exciting comes around, you'd sooner throw me away if it meant getting the ‘big scoop' you so craved."

"And you're such a hypocrite too! A reporter always checks their sources, Marinette,' she sneered. "If that's true, then what about Lila? Did you ‘check your sources’ on her? Oh, of course, you didn't, why would you? And then you have the gal to discredit me! When I was doing YOUR job!? And now that the truth comes out, instead of getting angry at Lila for lying, you get angry at ME for not telling you sooner?! I TOLD YOU, WARNED YOU, AND DIDN'T LISTEN!"

The Alya puppet broke completely as it was slammed onto the ground. Tears fell onto its broken limbs and cracked face, but Marinette couldn't stop sobbing. She was so tired. All this rage and sadness building up inside her was ready to burst. She wished Tikki was here, but she was smart and got away from her.

‘Leaving me alone, just like everyone else.'

Marinette took deep breaths as she collected herself before picking up the broken pieces of the Alya puppet. Her powers allowed the puppets to repair themselves as good as new.

"I'm sorry," Marinette apologized.

She always was the one to apologize.

Never the other way around.

"I don't want to do this," she stated as she placed the puppet back onto the stage. "I hate doing this. Even to you."

The lone Lila doll was folded in an awkward position in the dusty corner of the room. Marinette didn't want her being tainting her stage so she tossed her aside. Her legs had splinted, and her strings cut, rendering her motionless. Useless. As she should be.

"Don't worry, Chat Noir and Ladybug will fix this," she replied. Chat Noir would come in, break her possessed item, free the akuma then Tikki will purify it and everything will be healed.

"Everything will go back to normal and you can all go back to hating me and expecting me to do kind favors in return and I'll do it because that's the kind of person I am. A pushover. A punching back. A nobody."

She ignored Alya as she tried to reason with her. Why bother reasoning with something that was true. They could abuse her, ignore her, make fun of her, and in the end, she'll forgive them. Why? Because that's the kind of person she is. Forgiving to a fault. She'll take everyone's burden with a smile and try to fix them, receive all the blame and accept it.

Maybe one day she'll grow a backbone and stand up for herself.

Walk away from them all and find real friends who care for her and love her.

…

…

…

…

"Heh…who am I kidding?" she muttered. "Nothing will change."

Take a deep, shaky breath, pulled the strings coming from her fingertips and made her classmates dance.

Won't be long until Chaton comes to the rescue.

In the meantime, why not have some fun?

"I'm got no strings to hold me down. To make me fret or make me frown. I had strings but now I'm free! There are no strings on me!"

[the-girl-from-number-4-blog]

My Very First Mistake (III)

Roger Taylor x Reader

On the subject of coping

Word Count: 2,113

(this one feels short? it’s not the entire chapter as i planned it, but it’s been too long and i thought you guys deserved something :) let me know what you think!)

part one

part two

Roger looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. He didn’t like what he saw; he saw guilt, and he saw lies. It wore at his eyes and brought to them a tired and leaden gaze. As he stared at himself, he resolved to wash away these feelings, no matter the consequences.

He lathered soap onto a cloth and told himself, “Hey, Brian. Look . . . this is hard to say, but I think you need to know. Recently, I’ve had – recently, I’ve developed – I started to – God, this is hopeless.”

Quickly washing his face, he looked back up. “Bri. I need to say this. For about a month, I’ve had some feelings for . . .”

But something stopped him from being able to actually say the words; he never usually had a filter, but then again, he never usually had anything so important to say.

He knew what it was. What stopped him from being able to voice it, even in the privacy of his own bathroom, was the fear of Brian’s response. He knew that this would cause a sizeable rift, and the best possible scenario would end up shifting the dynamic of the entire band. The worst possible scenario would end up without a band at all.

Queen was built on Roger and Brian; it wouldn’t have come about if the two of them hadn’t been bandmates in Smile, or if they hadn’t been friends even before that. If the backbone of the group was compromised, if their bonds were broken, their entire band would fall apart.

He reached a moral dilemma. The ‘right’ thing would be to tell Brian about his feelings – he deserved to know, especially since, try as he might, Roger just can’t shake them. But wouldn’t that also be selfish? By telling Brian, by ridding his conscience, Roger would be jeopardizing the entire band. He knew each of them lived for this, and if it fell apart, he may ruin their music careers.

“Brian, I’ve got to get this off my chest. But please, promise me, no matter what I tell you, you won’t let it –”

Let it what? He had to be careful not to imply any blame lay on Brian; it really was all Roger’s fault and saying otherwise might elicit an even worse reaction.

He resolved to just tell him the truth, as it came to him in the moment, instead of memorizing lines. He needed, for his sake, to be as genuine as possible.

He arrived unannounced at Brian’s place. He wasn’t sure if he could ask for an invitation with a perfectly clear tone, and he didn’t want to alert Brian to anything out of the ordinary, so he just hoped that he would be in. Considering everything, being rude now hardly mattered.

It was midmorning on a Sunday, and he hadn’t seen Brian for quite a few days, since John went back home to visit his parents for a while. Without the bassist, the band couldn’t record or edit songs, so everybody was doing individual writing stuff for a while.

Roger knocked sharply three times and waited. He expected Brian to answer the door, as he usually does, but instead, he got a quiet, somewhat strained, “Come in.”

Eyebrow cocked in confusion, Roger twisted the unlocked door handle and let it swing forward. When he peered into the room, he saw the light of Brian’s television flicker, and the light from the kitchen flood into the otherwise dark living room. “Bri?”

“Hey,” came the response from the couch. Roger reached over to flick on a lamp, and saw his friend sprawled across his couch, eyes closed tightly. He looked rather worse for wear.

“You sick, mate?” Roger said, and he was proud of himself for sounding perfectly normal.

Perhaps today wasn’t the best day to break that unsettling news to him.

“No, not exactly.”

Was it just him, or did Brian sound even more melancholy than usual? “Then, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been trying to write,” he said, waving an arm at the scattered sheets of paper in disarray on the floor, which Roger hadn’t noticed until now, “but I just can’t. It’s all shit.”

“We all have bad days,” Roger tried to console him.

“Not just that.”

“Then what is it?” Brian always was a drama queen, just as each of them were, but Roger wasn’t exactly in the dramatic mood.

Brian sat up slowly, shifting grumpily on the couch until he was leaning forward to look Roger in the eye. Roger saw now just how bloodshot his eyes were.

“It’s Y/N,” he said, after a long and terse pause. His voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable. “She broke up with me. I’ve lost her, Rog.”

Yep, there’s definitely no telling him now.

A part of Roger was relieved that you and Brian were no longer dating. Of course, this was the part of him not completely devoted to Queen and its members; it was the primal part that took groupies up to his hotel for the night or drank shots until he passed out.

The part of him that would die for anyone in the band knew that he shouldn’t be happy. He shouldn’t rejoice in Brian’s misery, and because that part was the dominant in his mind, he was miserable himself.

The band had convened once John got back home, but it was a largely unproductive meeting; Brian couldn’t play worth shit and John was exhausted from dealing with his family for an entire week. Without a solid bassline, Roger couldn’t play properly, either, so the decision was unanimous to take a little while away to get sorted.

Roger was relieved for the opportunity to consider his thoughts and come up with an acceptable solution to the entire predicament, because this was the sort of decision where he stood on the precipice of danger and safety, and the wrong step, the wrong breath, could thrust him tumbling into oblivion.

None of them had seen you since you broke up with Brian. You hadn’t dropped by the studio or called to let them know how you were doing, and Roger, for his part, was increasingly worried, which further added to the complexity of the predicament.

He knew that he couldn’t make his move now, even though you were most definitely single. If he did, he would be a rebound, which would never settle for. If he was going to be with you, it would be in a more permanent, more passionate capacity.

And besides, he had too much respect and love for Brian to take his place so soon, before his metaphorical bed was cold, so to speak.

He couldn’t help but wonder, however, how you were. Why did you break up with Brian in the first place, and how were you taking it? As far as he could tell, there had been no major argument between the two of you. Besides that, he had been too busy ignoring you recently to really notice anything out of the ordinary.

This was just one torrential mess.

Roger’s mental turmoil persisted for the better part of a month, while you were busy trying to move on with your life.

After your breakup, you did cry, even though it was your choice. You were still saying goodbye to someone for whom you cared deeply. Brian was your first love, and though you had fallen out of that love, you couldn’t really stop loving him. You missed him.

And you missed the others, too. You’d hear their music on the radio, and you could remember being in the studio when Freddie sang those lines, or John had that solo, or Roger made that gripe about the song being too slow.

Surprisingly to you, it was Roger you missed the most, not Brian. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain (and didn’t let yourself dwell on), though you never felt particularly close to the drummer, you still remembered him fondly. You remembered his infectious grin and charming laugh, and though you never became good friends with him, you felt that you could have, if you allowed yourself to.

But you really wanted to move on. You needed to get away from your old life, which revolved largely around Brian; to get away from Brian, you needed to get away from Queen.

You immersed yourself in your work. It became a dedication, and your superiors soon noticed, and you were in line for a promotion before you knew it. You never realized just how much your social life had prevented you from excelling in your career. It felt so horribly boring.

You couldn’t sit around your flat anymore; you hadn’t gone out over the weekend since you were with Brian, and you would drive yourself mad if you didn’t get out sometime soon. So, you leaned over to your coffee table and picked up the phone, dialing a very familiar number, and waiting for the answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Fred? It’s Y/N.”

There was a light chuckle. “Who? I’m sorry, I meet so many people these days, if I don’t see you often enough then I’ll forget you.”

You breathed out a laugh. “Okay, I get it. Yeah, I’ve been focusing on work for a while. But, hey, are you guys gonna be in the studio today?”

“No,” he said, “we wrapped on ‘Brighton Rock’ yesterday, so we’re taking a few days off. We’ll be ‘round my flat later, though, if you want to stop by.”

You did, really, but something occurred to you. If you saw them, then you’d see Brian, and you didn’t know if you were ready for that. “…Who all will be there?”

“Brian’s out of town,” Fred said, cutting to the chase. He always did have a way of knowing exactly what you meant, no matter how roundabout you were in saying it. “So it’s safe, you coward.”

You know he didn’t mean it maliciously, but it still hurt. “I’ve been pretty bored lately,” you said, ignoring his jab, “so you’ll see me there.”

“We’d better,” he replied. “It’s really not the same without you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Yes, it’s the same here. You annoy me slightly less now that I don’t see you so often.”

He clicked his tongue at you. “Come on, dear, you know you can’t resist my charm.”

The two of you chatted back and forth in much the same playful manner. Just talking to him made you smile again, which you realized you hadn’t done much of for the past few weeks.

Eventually, the two of you got onto the topic of Roger, which was a natural course of events; you’d just exhausted every joke in the book about Deaky’s song ‘Misfire’, and since you didn’t exactly want to discuss Brian, he was the obvious recourse.

“He’s asked about you a couple of times, by the way,” Freddie said. “Seemed to think that you’d been calling me or John, which I may add, you very well should have. But he did seem quite worried.”

“That’s sweet of him,” you said absently. You weren’t really sure what to think of it, so you simply don’t.

“It gets you thinking, doesn’t it,” he began, giving you plenty of time to interject, “why he cares so much. Because, of course, you were never particularly close.”

You didn’t like where this was going; he was making you face your problems, which was never your preferred method of coping. “Eh, he’s probably just being polite, you know.”

“That’s never too high on his list of priorities, Y/N.”

You sighed. “All right, Fred, what are you insinuating? Brian and I just got out of a relationship that lasted years. What do you expect me to do, jump on the next man who so much as thinks about me?”

You could just see the defensive look on his face. “Well, it’s been a month. You’ve got to move on sometime, you know. Brian has.”

That gave you pause. “Excuse me? He what?”

“He’s been hanging ‘round with this girl, Chrissie, lately,” Freddie supplied smugly. “Probably a rebound, you know, but at least he’s trying. In fact, that’s why he won’t show tonight; he’s off on a hot date.”

You shake your head, tucking that bit of information away to contemplate and understand later, so you don’t waste vulnerable time doing it now; Freddie has a way of finding any weak spot, any slow point in the conversation, to pounce. “Well, I’m glad. I want him to be happy.”

Managing to steer the conversation back in a safe direction after that, you eagerly anticipated reuniting with your friends again.

@rogermeddowstayl0r @16wiishes @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @secretsweetscollectionblog @musicprincesslikestorock @justgivemethekeys @rogers-rhapsody

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 46

I found it harder and harder at the end of my life in public school in 10th not to get into a physical altercation with other students. Throughout my entire life, spanning as far back as I can recollect, when there were people standing about and chatting and I happened to need to get by, I would ask politely if they would let me passed. And people ignored me. I never understood why people did this. I have always done my best to be accommodating, even with people I can't stand when it comes to opening and shutting doors, handing things, or helping in any practical way. It seemed like a foundation to society that everyone really should uphold, no matter what. So for people to disregard me, It felt like they literally didn't think I should exist. I can't explain how this affected me, but it always gave me this notion that I somehow was not valued or worthy of consideration by society as a whole. I grew to really resent it, but ultimately it went hand in hand with my father's abuse and my already poor sense of self worth so I internalized it instead. I built my life meekly and silently abiding by the rules of others who would not do the same for me. This personality trait is so deeply ingrained in who I am that it effects my ability to function in the presence of anyone.

I guess I just snapped. One day that spring I was trying to get through this crowd of about six other girls in the hallway. My backpack was heavy and I needed to go sit down, and I was waiting expectantly. They looked at me and wouldn't move a single inch. I stopped and asked if they could let me go on by. They looked at one another and then at me, and they kept talking. I gave the alpha girl named Jamie one straightforward glance, and something in me said 'fuck it' and I pushed right through the girls. I shoved Jamie out of my way, not to violently knock her down or anything, but to demonstrate to them all that I wasn't fucking around. This girl shoved me back as I was walking away. I could feel this rage building up in me to turn around and just start beating her face in, but I held it back. I wasn't quite ready to go about beating people. As angry as I was starting to get, there was a very strong urge for me to not get into it and to step back instead.

And then there was this moment in school where I was in this class with a girl named Michelle. She was in the grade below me, and I really had gotten a strong sense that she was a very cruel person. For instance. There was this other girl also in the class below named Karen. Karen was always attempting to get attention in a very degrading fashion by asking people out who called her disgusting, talking about her body functions, and cried very easily. No matter how mean people were to her, she just went further into it. Her father was an abusive creep. She would dress outlandishly strange, and sometimes talk about self harm, and talk about things in class like her parents sex life, even when nobody wanted to hear it. Teachers should have stepped in, but they didn't (of course).  And she wasn't very bright. Not a day went by where kids would not pick her apart. Boys called her a dog all the time. Everyone knew that Karen was a confused and suicidal person.

Personally, she was annoying to me on the surface – what bothered me is that even jellyfish me had a backbone compared to her – which isn't good, and I didn't have much in common with her otherwise since it has always been a tendency for me to use analyzing and intimacy to get to know my enemies rather than crying like I child – but at the same time I could identify a little bit. It annoyed me to see weakness because it reminded me of my own weaknesses. And really, I was too nervous to step up for her – though Sarah did a few times to her credit. I wanted to see her destroy her tormentors or ignore them, but she always gave them all they had wanted and more and it disappointed me to no end. And of course the other kids were sick and cruel and I have trouble imagining they ever got better from that. It made me sick. It was like the whole school, teachers and all were attempting to push her to suicide in some kind of subconscious way as a group. It got harder and harder to look away from her situation.

One day, the teacher left the class, and Michelle started telling Karen that she was hideous and worthless that Karen should, speaking very in detail 'slit her wrists, or jump off a building'. And then all the other mindless cogs started getting in on it. Everyone had something ugly to say to her, all of them ranting over one another. They were all stupid and mindless and that was in many ways the real evil, but Michelle was someone that I actually believe would have enjoyed hearing about it after the fact. I was a coward however and I said nothing even though I knew I should have, afraid perhaps that if I let a little rage I was dealing with out, I wouldn't know where to end, and maybe a little cautious that Karen would then see me as some kind of protector – something I absolutely didn't want in any way shape or form. She was incredibly vulnerable. I felt this loathing rage for all of them – but particularly Michelle, since she knew exactly what she was doing.

Karen ended up leaving the school eventually because she was just too bullied to even function. I hope she got the help she needed.

So, we were sent into the gymnasium at some point by the end of the year to watch a projected anti-drug video that everyone in the school had to go see about drug use. The whole thing was incredibly insensitive to drug users as people who need help, instead pointing them out as menaces to society, and didn't paint a realistic light to what the war on drugs was actually about. It had a lot of music that played over the documentary, giving the viewers a strong undercurrent of sinister and fearful feelings of what the propaganda machine wanted them to feel. They painted drug users to look like – well me – with dyed hair and band shirts and all that. Of course, like most anti-drug propaganda, it focused on the kids who listened to alternative forms of music rather than the football jocks who were far more likely to get into a car accident. They painted the occasional pot smoker like they were the equivalent to a heroin user.

So after I was made to watch this insulting video, we were asked to explain what we thought about it. I stood up and explained that it was unrealistic garbage. Michelle then interrupted me and spoke to me. She said I was pathetic, had never had a bad thing happen to me in my life, and that I was obviously a heroin addict so nothing I said was accurate. I remember feeling like some kind of demonic freakish liquid was running through my veins, and I in that moment, honestly could feel myself mentally rising from my desk, walking over to her, punching her in the face three times and then grabbing her by the hair and dragging her down the hall. Of course, this was not what I actually did. Instead I glared at her and then looked down at my desk.

And then there was this little fuckface named Zac (not my Zack), who was in the class below me that I had to sit next to in math. Whenever I sat down at the desk, he would knock all my papers and books off my desk onto the floor. It kind of shocked me. I was more accustomed to being sexually harassed or toyed with verbally. I wasn't used to violence, be it from a tiny little shrimp of a boy younger than me or no. I foolishly would get down and pick up my books. I felt this building humiliation and rage growing in me. Fortunately, this was put to an end when Mrs. Rush saw him do it one day and she made him pick it up, gave me three detentions and made him sit against the wall. Had she not stepped in, I would have eventually clocked him. He was also an incredibly cruel person who tried to coax unhappy loners to commit suicide. I had heard him as well at times.

Samantha ended up losing her patience with me. For years upon years I had come to class unprepared come rain or shine, I drew on all my lined paper before I had the chance to use it for any actual homework, and I always lost my pencils in the back of my locker. I think there was a point where my locker actually had something extremely moldy growing in it, and I didn't dare go in there to reach for any possible writing utensils that might have fallen down into the abyss of the locker. And maybe I can kind of understand why that might be frustrating for one such as herself who always did everything perfectly, and was severely punished for even the slightest mess up. I didn't ask her for pencils or paper anymore. She just would angrily tear out a page from her notebook and throw a pencil at me. When I tried to give it back to her after the class, she would refuse it. I didn't want to make her mad, and it seemed like if I went without by my own choice she would become enraged, but if I also asked for something she was mad too. If I tried to give her the pencils back, she would be angry, but the same would work if I just kept it for myself without a second thought.

So one day, we were in class, and I didn't have paper, and she saw it. I didn't ask her for any. She just turned around, screamed at me, and shoved a desk violently at my desk. The whole class was looking over at us. She went to the bathroom, and came back in a calm mood. But I was thoroughly freaked out. For the short remainder of school I avoided even showing that I had no paper or pencils in order to prevent a repeat, and honestly, it was weird because we had literally been friends in some form or another since the very first day of kindergarten, but we never really talked after that event.

I mostly was in another world. There was a strange month there in March were I randomly decided that I wanted to become really invested in weed culture. I have no idea what spurred this, since I didn't smoke weed, and didn't really borrow heavily or know anyone who wore weed based things. I started listening to a lot of Sublime and thought about buying a bunch of tye dye so perhaps people in the new school would think I was more alternative and cool and I could find more acceptance among other artists and musically inclined students. But then I started feeling kind of phony about it, because it was phony. I didn't actually even like Sublime.

On one of my father's trips down to Boise, he came back with a Radiohead album I wanted from a music store down in Boise. It was OK Computer, and for whatever reason nobody stocked it in town. I listened to that album hundreds upon hundreds of times. Between David Bowie and Radiohead I was completely entranced in a different world completely. Whenever I was in school or near a computer, I would get on the Radiohead website where there was this strange postmodern page set up with hundreds and hundreds of pictures by the artist Stanley Donwood – the artist that Radiohead often times employs to decorate their album covers. You could click at random on the page, and it would take you to another art piece. Sarah and I, instead of sometimes even doing our ISATs, would instead spend the day clicking away, lost in the artwork of Stanley Donwood.

On the last day of school, I couldn't believe it was finally over. I could finally move to a new part of my life. I wanted to let go of everything, but there was still Zack. I seemed to be growing as a person, but him I would never get over. The more I thought about what we said to one another over a year ago by that time, the more I became convinced that he had loved me – I had had a chance. I should not have given up on him, or on myself. The way I saw it, I had still been a childish girl. I was becoming more and more ready to be someone worthy, and engaging. I beat myself up everyday for having failed to write him just one letter back. I angered myself all the times I should have suggested we skip class together, or all the times I should have given into him instead of continuing to resist. I had been afraid of being rejected, and now I didn't even have the privilege to even get the chance to be rejected. He was simply gone, and yet he was still the first thing I thought of every morning when I woke up. I could almost see his face in my mind. The thought of him could change everything around me, and I thought about the things he had told me very seriously. And some part of him still did love me, wherever he was. Surely he had not forgotten me. I could feel him so strongly at times that I had troubles breathing. And even though I couldn't let Sarah know at this point, I still very much loved him. It was really what compelled me to care about all kinds of things, even my grades. Zack made me want to be a better person. He made me want to live up to my real potential and to grow. I really could never imagine loving again. I had given up that much of myself.

Our health class was taken out to a football field to practice stretches, and I didn't feel like participating, so instead I decided to lay down under the bleachers. As the rest of the class moved back to the school room, I just decided not to go with them. They all marched away, and I saw them enter the building in the distance and then I was alone in nature. Even though the sky was blue, I had never realized how ominous it was. The trees seemed to speak silently. I could hear a semi rolling down the road a mile away. I just laid there and thought of transcendence and how it seemed that the older i became, it felt like there were so many worlds in me building from the past, to the present, to all the possible futures, and some worlds that never were or could not ever be. Each year that I grew and grew, it became some kind of juggling act. And now this new self was emerging and i had to be ready to do what i needed to in order to reach that whispering promise of something that always seemed to linger just out of consciousness that i was always longing for, but was never quite sure what it was or what to even cal it.

PART 45 - http://tinyurl.com/y94784tz

PART 44 - http://tinyurl.com/ydfpbzxt

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PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8