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sunsetcurbed · 4 years ago

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you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 3,416 Rating: T Warnings: none Chapter: 1/11 read on AO3

Summary: “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Frederick Alexander Louis Mercer?” his grandmother asks with a deep frown, crossing her ankle behind her other foot carefully. He frowns. Here’s that pub trivia he doesn’t know. “No, I can’t say I have.” “Frederick was Beasiga’s crown prince,” she tells him with a meaningful look, which he doesn’t understand. She leans forward. “And Frederick was your father.” Alex’s mind blanks. “That’s… okay,” he says, bobbing his head in a quick nod as he presses his lips together and bites the insides of them, trying to will some thoughts back into his mind. “I don’t think—I’m not sure you’re quite right on that. Because if you were, then—“ “Then you would be Alexander Charles Taylor Mercer, Prince of Beasiga.”

(*)

(or: the willex princess diaries au that no one asked for but I wrote anyways)

(1)

1 e and a 2 e and a—

"On the edge of great, on the edge of great, on the edge of great," Alex sings into the microphone, listening to the rest of his band around him and hearing the audience of their music class as he performs his midterm with his band. On one hand he's thankful that the four of them only have to perform once for all of their grades instead of four separate performances—less opportunities to mess up. However, on the other hand, he's bummed about it because it means they only get to play in front of their class once rather than four times. Performing music for a live audience is like nothing else—even if it's an audience as simple as a group of thirty high school students. The music their band makes is undeniable, so even while listening to performances is routine in this class, most of the students still end up getting into their music and dancing along.

Alex drums and sings along and watches Julie from behind as she belts out her high note at the beginning of the final chorus. He can't keep the grin off his face as he sees various students dancing in their seats to the song. He makes eye contact with a few and even sends one of them a wink, just as he hits his last cymbal before Julie and Luke go into their duet over the piano. He looks towards his two band mates and friends and smirks at them being just a little too close for a midterm performance, but—glancing at Mrs. Harrison—the teacher doesn't seem to mind, so. The two of them finish and all four of them stand and take a bow, and Alex lets the cheers and clapping wash over him.

"Very impressive," Mrs. Harrison compliments. "Who composed the song?"

"Julie and I wrote the lyrics, all four of us worked on the melody and harmonies, and each of us worked on our individual instrument to compose our piece," Luke answers readily.

"It was very well done," she nods at each of them in turn. "I'm sure you'll be very pleased with your grade. You all may take your seats."

Alex follows behind Reggie to their group of four seats in the back of the music class room, nodding at a few of his class mates as he goes when they offer him praise. When they get back to their seats Mrs. Harrison calls for the classes attention and then next performance goes, and then Flynn goes next, and then music is over for the day.

"We nailed that," Luke bursts as soon as the bell rings to end class.

"Luke, what was that riff at the end of the bridge?" Reggie asks with wide eyes. "It was killer."

"You think so?" Luke asks, bouncing on the balls of his toes. "I didn't mean to improv but it came to me and it sounded so good in my head so I just—"

"Luke," Julie smiles softly, placing a hand on his upper arm, "don't worry. It was incredible. You were right to add it in."

Luke looks between the other three band members and bites his lip. "Yeah?"

Alex laughs. "Yeah, buddy."

"Awesome," he grins, swinging his backpack up onto his shoulder and hopping towards the door. "And now—that's three midterms down and only two to go."

Alex groans. "I only have one left."

Reggie frowns. "Why are you more upset about that then Luke is about two?"

Alex sends a look at Reggie. "It's public speaking."

"Oh no," Julie murmurs from next to him, reaching up to rub a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You'll be okay. Just imagine you're sitting behind your drums."

"Yeah, that's never worked."

"Imagine you're on stage with us," Luke says from Julie's other side, tossing his arm around Julie's shoulder and leaning in her space so far that he's nearly in Alex's space as well.

"That's also never worked."

They reach the cafeteria then and their conversation falls away as they make their way through the lunch line. Alex grabs only an orange, because if he's going to be giving a speech in the next two hours, he doesn't want to give his stomach much ammunition.

They make their way to the back table of the cafeteria where Flynn, Willie, and two of Willie's skateboarder friends, Greg and Shawn, are waiting for them. Alex can count the amount of words he's said to Greg and Shawn over the past two years on both his hands, but they shared Willie nicely, so that was enough for him.

See, Alex had met Willie in elementary school at recess—it had to be at recess because Willie was a grade above him. Alex remembers Willie doing cool tricks on all the playground equipment—flipping off the benches, pin wheeling on the bars, jumping off the parallel bars—exciting things like that. He'd always had Alex's attention. And then in fourth grade Alex jumped off the swing really far (he'd never admit it was on accident). Obviously this started a jumping contest off the swings and the only one who bested him had been Willie, who came over and introduced himself after the recess aides stopped the competition. At the time, Alex didn't know what he was feeling when Willie smiled at him. He'd been told crushes were for girls, so he didn't realize that his crush was on a boy. Over time he'd learn though, and over time it'd develop.

It wouldn't progress much further though until Willie was in tenth grade and Alex was in ninth, both of them at high school. It was Alex's second week at high school and he lost rock, paper, scissors to Luke and had to go up to the concession stand at the beach to get everyone their hot dogs. On his way back to the group, however, Willie skated right into him. After lengthy apologies, Willie took him back to the concession stand and bought him new hot dogs in apology, plus an extra one, and joined them. That day would cement Alex's helpless crush on Willie which—

Has not gone away now that they're half way through fall term in Alex's junior year of high school.

Ask him how he's doing.

"Hey, hot dog!"

(He's doing great.)

"Hey, puka," Alex rolls his eyes back, eying the puka shell necklace around Willie's throat. Willie grins wide at him, bouncing his eyebrows up and down. Alex moves to take his seat next to Willie.

Willie takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at the group. "How'd your music midterm go?"

"So well they left me there," Flynn huffs from where she's picking her lunch out of her lunch box. "I had to put my trumpet away and by the time I was done they were gone!"

"You know what Luke is like after a performance," Julie apologizes to her friend. "I couldn't keep him still if I tried."

"It's for that reason and only that reason that you're forgiven," Flynn says.

"Our midterm was amazing though," Luke jumps in as soon as Flynn finishes speaking. He looks up to the ceiling and shakes his head. "Man, I wish you were in the music program so you could have seen it—but we'll play it for a gig soon, so I guess you didn't miss too much—"

"We did kill it though," Reggie leans forward, around Alex, to see Willie. "So you can be sad about missing that."

"Consider me sad, then," Willie says. "Flynn, how did you do?"

Flynn answers, and the rest of the table is quiet, giving Alex a moment to let his mind wander. Next period is his public speaking class, and his final midterm. His biology midterm had been yesterday, so after public speaking he's technically free to go—well…

Not actually. He's got an obligation after school today, but. He's not exactly sure how he feels about it.

He doesn't need to think about that now, though, because the rest of lunch passes with various conversations ranging from the start of new songs ("where's my notebook—write that down, write that down!"), cats versus dogs ("you can train cats too, you just don't have enough patience"), and the dance team ("there were kazoos and immediately I knew I was in the wrong"). It's a good distraction from his impending doom of public speaking, but when the bell rings to dismiss them from lunch to class, he realizes that it was just that: a distraction.

He feels his hands clam up, his breathing pick up, and his pulse skyrocket. He can't even force himself to get up from his seat.

"Hey," Julie's voice says from across the table. "We'll be here for you after your speech, yeah? I have a free period after next period since we already took our history midterm so I'll meet you here, okay?"

Willie's hand falls on his shoulder and Alex is already tense so it doesn't even matter that he gets even tenser. "Hey, man," he says "I read through your speech like, ten times. It's ace, you've got this. Don't even bother looking at the audience, just read right off the paper, okay? You don't even need public speaking skills, you're gonna be a fucking rock star."

"C'mon," Reggie says, standing behind him. "I'll walk you to class."

Alex looks at each face surrounding him, and each of them are encouraging, each of them believe in him. He closes his eyes then and swings his legs over the bench and stands up. "Yeah, let's go."

"Good luck!" he hears a group chorus behind him, but he doesn't look back to acknowledge them, doesn't think he can because if he looks back then he'll see their faces and he'll want to hold on to them and so he focuses on the feeling of Reggie's arm brushing against his and keeps walking forward. It doesn't even take them two minutes to get to class, and then Reggie is shaking Alex's shoulder and wishing him luck. Alex doesn't look at Reggie's face for the exact same reason he didn't look back at his group of friends. He doesn't think he'd actually go into class if he'd looked at Reggie.

So he doesn't look at Reggie, and instead walks into the classroom where Mr. Kullins is waiting. Alex takes his seat—second row next to the window—and waits while the rest of the class files in. He pulls his speech out of his backpack and stares at it. He mumbles to himself, reciting his speech as students fill their seats.

"You never write a theme for a movie thinking 'this will live forever.'" John Williams, famous composer, said this. He and countless other composers create the accompaniment to films we know and love. Consciously, we hardly pick up on these melodies, but subconsciously, they influence how we consume the media. A good score can cause a tear, while a great score can make you weep. A good score can make you pause while a great score can make you hold your breath. A—

The bell to start class rings and Alex clenches his fist tightly around the edge of his desk, fighting down the wave of nausea that rises up in his throat. Mr. Kullins is speaking in the background, welcoming everyone to class, explaining that they'll be finishing up the last of the midterms today. It's in alphabetical order by last name, and Alex isn't sure if he's glad to have been granted the grace of going on the last day, or if he wishes he had just gotten it over with on the first day.

McConnell, Rebecca goes first and Alex's nausea rises. Then Stenson, Ryan goes, and the nausea is in every part of Alex's body now, from his head to his toes. Then Mr. Kullins calls Taylor, Alex, and Alex really, genuinely thinks he's going to be sick.

Don't even bother looking at the audience, just read right off the paper, okay?

Right—like Willie had said, he could pretend he was just reading it to himself, right? Just read it straight off the paper. Alex stands from his desk and walks to the front of the room, going to stand behind the podium that's set up for their speeches. He sets his speech down on the stand and doesn't lift his head, not once.

"Everyone, give Mr. Taylor your full attention," Mr. Kullins says from where he sits behind his desk, and Alex wants to scream at him. No! Let them—let them go on their phones! Let them talk to each other! Don't make them pay attention to me!

He starts by taking in a deep, quivering breath. "'You never write a theme for a movie thinking 'this will live forever.''" Alex pauses here, swallowing. He can hear people in the audience shuffling. Someone shifts in their chair and he glances up to see who it was. Shit. All of their eyes are on him. Quickly, he looks back down at his paper. The words are blurrier than they were when he started, and there's a pressure in his head that wasn't there at lunch, but he presses on. "John Williams, famous composer, said this. He… and countless other composers… create the accompaniment to films we know and love… Consciously," he glances up again against his better judgment and feels his face flush hot when he connects eyes with one of the students. "Uh. Consciously, we hardly pick up on these melodies, but subconsciously—" Alex cuts off when a large black dot dances in front of the words he's reading. His throat is burning all the way down to his gut. Without thinking, he leans both his arms on to the podium and hides his face between them.

In, 2, 3, 4.

There's murmurings from around him, but he can't lift his head.

Hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

There's a louder murmuring from closer to him this time, but he can't, he can't.

Out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

There's a hand on his back.

His head shoots up, and the room spins.

"Mr. Taylor?" Mr. Kullins asks with a cautious voice, and oh, does he have a lot to be cautious about right now.

"Gotta sit," Alex says quickly, moving to the back wall as quickly as he could to slide down it and put his head between his knees to continue his breathing exercise. He might have felt embarrassed, but the alternatives were passing out or throwing up—he'd know, it's happened multiple times before.

He hears footsteps all around him and the shuffling of desks as he assumes students are trying to move to get a better look at him, but he keeps focused on his counts, and lets Mr. Kullins tell them that the next student is going to go. Someone gets up from their desk and shuffles their papers around before settling it on the podium. Alex briefly wonders what happens to his paper.

The rest of class passes with Alex curled up in the back of the class room, listening to his final three class mates give their speeches, and then they're done. There's extra time left before the bell rings, so that means extra time for everyone to stare at him, so he picks his head up, confident that he's not going to pass out or throw up anymore, and looks at Mr. Kullins. His teacher looks back at him and wheels over in his chair to Alex and frowns at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Now I am. I was about to pass out," Alex explains, far beyond feeling embarrassed about it.

"Does… that happen often?"

"With public speaking?" Alex asks. "Yes."

Mr. Kullins frowns. "We'll speak with Principal Lessa, see if we can't get something figured out. You're not the first one. Do you think you'd be able to do your speech for just me?"

"No, yeah, that would be fine, I just… not… crowds."

"Aren't you in a band?"

Alex nods, just as the bell rings. He carries on, anyways. "Yeah. But that's—different. First, I'm not alone when I'm with my band. Second, I'm good at drums. I'm not good at speeches."

His teacher sighs. "Alright. Your midterm grade will be delayed but we'll speak with Principal Lessa next week."

"Thank you, really."

He nods. "Your speech is on the edge of my desk. Don't forget it when you leave. Are you okay to leave?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, pushing himself to his feet. He's a little unsteady at first, but his balance comes back quickly and he's able to make his way to Mr. Kullins desk and grab his speech. He goes to gather his backpack then, stuffing his speech inside of it, and waves goodbye to his teacher, who waves back.

When he leaves the classroom, he makes his way to the cafeteria like he promised Julie he would. She's waiting for him at their usual table, waving and beaming. He offers a small smile back as he sets his bag down.

"You got through it!" she yells. "It's over!"

Alex laughs humorlessly and slips on to the bench. "No, it's not."

The smile drops off of Julie's face. "What?"

"I nearly passed out, so we're talking to Lessa and I'll be giving my speech to just Kullins. Which, is better, I guess, but now I still have to worry about it until next week."

"Oh, Alex," Julie sighs. "I'm sorry. I wish the band could just… be there with you."

"That'd be nice," he says, putting his elbows on the table. "But I still suck at speaking anyways, so I'm not sure how much that would help."

"Alex, that speech you wrote is amazing," Julie says. "You're good at words, which is what speaking is. What you're concerned about is how people perceive you. When you have us with you, you think that people are looking at you similar to how they look at us just by association and you're okay with that because you love us. But when you're alone you think that people are looking at you similar to how you look at you, at that's nitpicking every little thing and criticizing every fault."

Alex blinks, stares at her. He feels his mouth open, ready to defend himself, but he's not sure what he'd actually say, so he forces it shut again. Julie sits, staring at him, unwavering. He leans forward on his elbows and brings his hands together, twining his fingers. "I… okay."

Julie rolls her eyes and huffs a small laugh. "Come on, Alex, you know I'm right."

"Do I?" Alex asks, voice pitching up an octave. Because, really. Does he? He's pretty sure it's more due to what he told Mr. Kullins—he's good at drums, he sucks at speeches. Even if he is good at words like Julie said, speeches are an entirely different brand of words. They're spoken word. And that… that is the kind of word that Alex does not do. See, if his assignment were an informative written paper on the impact of film and television scores, yeah, Alex would ace that. But it's not. And not because he thinks his class is looking at him the same way he looks at himself, Julie, but because he sucks at speeches. He says 'uh' too much, he pauses in weird places, his flow is weird, his thoughts wander, and he could go on. There's no room for any of that in papers—well, yes there is, but they can be edited out, is the point.

Julie reaches a hand across the table and covers Alex's fingers with it. She shakes it and offers a soft smile. "You should. You would kill speech class, Alex. You just have to get out of your head."

"Yeah, the person with anxiety has to get out of their head," Alex says, flipping his hand over so he can grab hold of hers. He shakes her hand so her arm wiggles. "Never heard of that quick fix before."

"Hey, I never called it a quick fix! Just said it needed to happen."

Alex smiles at her and pulls his hands back. "I'll keep that in mind." Julie lets him drop the subject after that and they turn their attention to their home work, settling into silence.

#willex fic #willex #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #willex fanfic #ysmfinb #my writing

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shadowbanki · 4 years ago

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Symphony Saga Resonate chapter 1

I was inspired!

Notes: This fanfic is like, a middle/high school-centric fic so my OCs are all middle/high school aged here (youngest= 12, oldest= 18)

Also everyone is gonna age by 6 years eventually

AO3 link

——————

Can a dream change the world?

Can a song awaken the soul?

Does our universe truly have limits?

Why am I asking all of these questions?

We all each have a story.

We all matter.

If we all join together, how big of a miracle can we create?

The story of Resonate unfolds...

———

Queen Rainbow’s Point of View

In a world where color was scarce... wonder was draining from people’s souls, and warmth was fading from their hearts. The warmth in their smiles were waning... And soon enough, they weren’t able to truly smile any longer.

This world... was called Monochrome.

Being the furthest planet in its solar system from the sun, Monochrome was already quite a lonely place. But everything froze over when Obsidian stepped to the throne.

Monochrome was a painfully boring place, filled with progressively more boring people. It got to the point where the most boring, bitter person of all would automatically be crowned as royalty.

Her name was Obsidian, and she became the Queen of Misery. She did not believe in fun, happiness, or love. Her heart was made of coal. When she breathed out, thick black smoke would fill the air, despite her never being a smoker.

Queen Obsidian’s very existence would always pollute the air with negativity and gloom that would make people lose hope. She was so boring, that her presence would transform sugary donuts into regular old bagels with nothing on them. She was so boring, that her royal fanfare was played on a single off-key kazoo. She was so utterly dull, that she even sent Planet Monochrome into a thousand-year-long ice age after telling one terrible joke.

But worse than all that combined, the Queen of Misery was a selfish, spiteful, and joyless person.

Nobody exactly knew why, but Queen Obsidian hated music... Possibly because of how positive and fun it could potentially be, not to mention the sheer raw emotion and vibes it could could convey.

One day, Queen Obsidian heard a song. It was awful. She hated it so much, that she ordered it to be sent to the Nowhere Of Permanent Erasure Void, or “NOPE Void” for short, where it would be deleted from our reality.

Queen Obsidian wanted to erase all the universe’s music from existence this way, and for people to never make or listen to it again. Ever.

Knowing that Monochrome barely had any worthwhile tunes to get rid of, Obsidian began to target the music on other worlds.

And what better place to start than the magical, colorful planet known as Whimsica?

Whimsica, a charming, fittingly whimsical world filled with magic... It may ideally be peaceful, yet we’ve been attacked by Monochrome for years just for being so idyllic. Apparently, our bright, rainbow colors that can be seen from space are an eyesore for them.

This is also where I come in.

My name is Queen Rainbow... and I’m the Queen of Whimsica. I’m only 16 years old, which is... actually pretty old for a monarch of Whimsica, believe it or not!

Whimsica’s monarchs are usually children nowadays! That’s because we have a childish kind of “whimsy” in our hearts and an arcane sort of innocence to see the world through rainbow-tinted lenses.

A long time in the past, Whimsica had a very strict older queen who forbid the royals, even the ones in the future, from ever befriending commoners.

That queen used a spell, so if a royal was caught being friends with a commoner, they would fall into a long slumber. The length of how long they would sleep corresponded to how strong the royal‘s bond was to the commoner.

Recently, the spell was broken, however! So now I can befriend and hang out with all the common folk I want. To be honest, being that kind of queen wasn’t so great, it was a little lonely, and I always hated feeling so unapproachable... and responsible!

Well, to tell the truth, the eldest of the three princess sisters actually does most of the work. 18-year-old Celestine is the responsible and proper eldest sister. Lunette, age 16, is the middle sister, and a bit mischievous. The youngest sister is 14-year-old Stelle, and she... well... is a bit of a problem child.

Anyway. I had proposed a new course of action against what Monochrome is trying to do. The princess sisters and I, along with Celestine’s best friend Nikamowin, and even the two royal anthromorph cats, Sparkle and Twinkle, have been using our magical powers the best we could to fight against Monochrome’s Queen and royal force, and the monsters they use against us.

But I still feel we need more help. We need the help of magical musicians.

I’ve been beginning to practice making music so I could harness its positive energy and make my songs into magic that can defeat Monochrome’s negativity. Nikamowin is also a skilled singer and can use songs to help us, but I still feel we need to power of more music.

So I assigned a job to Sparkle and Twinkle. Their job now is to look for passionate musicians with pure hearts, who are interested in joining our force to help save music for the entire universe...

———

Haku Yowane’s Point of View

Location: Earth

I zipped up my backpack to the faint scent of dust around the house, tied my shoes, wiped my long bangs from my eyes, and got ready to step out the door to go to school. Another gray day.

Even though I didn’t live with her, my world felt so empty now. My heart felt so hollow.

It was the little things.

Rain pattering on the roof... once a cozy and quaint sound... now just a gloomy and sad reminder.

An old notebook... once a source of joy and closeness... now just cold and distant.

A stuffed cat... warm and beloved... now even more well-loved, and irreplaceable.

All these things I saw right before I left my house to go to school reminded me of her.

My grandmother.

She passed away three weeks ago.

Right before I began opening my door, I looked back, and saw Snowbell, the plush cat Grandma gifted me long ago, eyeing me gently from my table.

I decided I couldn’t go to school without Snowbell. I couldn’t leave her alone.

I picked up the well-loved plush and hugged her gently and sadly, and made my way out the door with her.

Snowbell was special to me.

At the age of five, I was quite meek and lonely, with a reddish nose and wobbly knees. I would catch colds often, and constantly be sniffling, which was how I earned the nickname “Sniffles”.

I was a bit odd. I had strange habits such as pretending I were a cat, even lapping milk out of a bowl at snack time. I liked to draw pictures and play make-believe at recess. I didn’t like strangers or crowds.

In school, I was usually scared and overwhelmed. Once during indoor play time, I sat in my own little corner away from everyone and drew on the walls. When my teacher found the drawings I had drawn on the walls, I got scolded. I spent the rest of the day crying and sniffling, not understanding why I was yelled at.

That was when my grandmother decided my imagination was just too big for such a little girl, so she bought me a friend, a stuffed white kitten, to talk to.

My grandma told me that Snowbell was a special friend, and she was always there to listen. So when I was sad, I would hug and talk to Snowbell and felt I wasn’t alone.

Snowbell was there for me through the good days, and the many bad days... She was there when I graduated kindergarten. She was also there shortly after, when I was six years old, when my parents divorced...

Before my parents divorced, my brother Dell and I were very close. He was technically my half-brother. My father, who I was never close with, already divorced a former wife before marrying my mother. Dell was the son of my father and his former wife. His last name was Honne, his father’s last name. My last name is Yowane, my mother’s last name.

Dell and I would always play and sing together. Even though I was clumsy and fail at his games sometimes, he was very patient and would comfort me when I cried. Sometimes my dad would randomly yell at or scold me. When that happened, Dell would always stand up to my dad and protect me. Even when my parents were fighting and yelling so loudly that I got scared, Dell and I would hide together and he would comfort me. He was truly an amazing brother.

However, when my mother and father divorced, my father insisted on taking us with him. My mother refused to let him take us. There was a huge custody battle over us, and eventually, a heartbreaking compromise was made.

Dell was going to go with my father. I was going to stay with my mother.

I just wanted us to stay together. But in the end, we couldn’t.

One morning after sleeping in, I went downstairs to see around half the furniture in the house gone and my father outside in the moving van. My dad was about to leave. He left me without saying goodbye.

But Dell... He waited until I woke up so he could say goodbye before leaving. I cried with such intensity that he turned around. His face right then shocked me. He was seven years old... but had such a grown-up expression on his face... I had never seen such an look on his face before. So much pain... yet so accepting of his fate.

He hugged me one last time without any words, until I stopped crying. Once my tears stopped, he pat my head, and made his way out the door.

I never saw my brother, my best friend, ever again.

Two years passed. I turned eight years old. My mother, now single, talking to her sister, had an idea.

My mother’s sister had a daughter, who would be my cousin. My mom noticed that without Dell, I was very lonely lately. So she proposed to my cousin and I to meet.

My cousin’s name was Miku Hatsune. She was six years old at the time. The same age I was when my parents divorced. The first thing I noticed about Miku was how cheerful she was, and how accepting she was towards me. I quickly became friends with her, and even though she came over only around once a month and I only got to see her those times, we were really close friends.

The day we first met, we played in the backyard. I was still very shy and awkward at the time.

A butterfly landed on a flower nearby, and Miku urged me to try and touch it. I did, and the butterfly flew away.

I instantly burst into tears.

“Why?” I said, through my tears. “Why does everyone leave me? Like Dell? And my dad? Why...?”

“Don’t cry, Haku...” Miku pat my head to try to cheer me up. It reminded me of when Dell pat my head to say goodbye... it kind of calmed me down.

To cheer me up even more, Miku began singing me a song. She taught it to me, and I began to sing it with her.

We began to sing together, and soon enough, we were surrounded by butterflies. We began smiling and laughing. It was a great memory.

“Miku?�� I looked at her fondly. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me, okay?”

“Okay!” Miku answered, smiling.

But one day, around three years later...

My mother called her sister as usual... and every single trace of her, her husband, Miku, and even Miku’s little sister Mizu, had vanished without a trace.

When I heard this, I was devastated. I began to wait a little while... but soon it became apparent that Miku and her family were gone... maybe in a freak accident or disappearance... and weren’t ever coming back.

I remember sitting under a tree, and just crying.

After that, I really only had my grandmother. My mom was always kind of distant and neglected me emotionally.

My grandmother, however, was warm and understanding. She was also very fun and always made me smile. She was the most magical person I ever knew, because she always told me amazing stories. Sometimes I wondered how she even thought of them. I always told her perhaps she should become a writer and make them into books.

I was inspired to become a writer myself because of her. I used many of her stories as inspiration, because I thought she needed a lot of recognition. She also always wanted to be a musician, and so did I, but I was always much too shy. My grandmother couldn’t pursue music because of her health condition and age, sadly.

Now that she’s passed, I think I will try to fulfill my grandmother’s dreams in homage to her.

Thinking of these memories may have left me sad... but I’ll at least always have the precious memories of these people in my heart, even though I may never see them again. In memory of them, may I live my every day to my fullest.

#symphony saga #symphony Saga resonate #symphony Saga: resonate #my writing #utau #vocaloid #whimsica #whimsica saga #oc #ocs #fic #life of pastell #writing

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gothfoxx · 5 years ago

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Miraculous Ladybug, Male! Marinette x Lila, They were partnered up with in a project but they hated each other. They have settled their differences or they would fail the project.

(I’m using @virgil-is-a-cutie ‘s male!Marinette name for this)

When Ms Bustier said they would do the project in pairs Marin could feel the eyes of everyone in class glance hungrily in his direction. There was sure to be a fight for an easy grade. “Partners will be assigned at the end of the lesson so please pay attention!” The teacher informed them. ‘Ha!’ Marin thought as all the greedy vultures groaned and moaned about their lost meal ticket.

“That leaves Alya and Juleka as the last girl team and Lila and Marin as our last co Ed team!” Ms Bustier said way too cheerfully for someone that just sent a guy down the river. “Remember I want to see effort from both of you in your project for this lesson, think of it as your idea child. Raise it together with love and care!” The woman added a happy little half clap to emphasize her giddiness at the prospect.

Marin held back an eye roll that he was sure several other students could share. At least it was a subject he liked so if he had to do all the work he wouldn’t be struggling. The plopping down of a bag jars the bluenett out of his musings huh Alya left already and when he looks up he sees his nightmare hasn’t ended yet, “Hey~ Marin. So I guess we’re working together huh?” Lila asks feigning innocence and dripping artificial sweetness. When he doesn’t address her right away she tilts her head and pouts, if he didn’t know it was all an act he might have been swayed into being sorry.

He heaved a sigh to rivial a tiny god’s and puts on his ‘customer service’ smile, “Guess so. So do you have an idea for what we should do? I’m all ears!” Might as well jump to it and prepare for the worst. She surprises him by pulling out a piece of paper with some sloppy writing on it. “I might have one idea.” She beams, ew she can fake that too is that healthy?. “Oh cool.” Came his less than enthusiastic reply as he tried to read the paper, “So what IS the idea?” He finally asks after getting nowhere trying to read from the paper. Lila grinned and this time if was the kind her was used to, the sly cruel smile of a Predator on the hunt.

“I’m glad you ask Marin! It just so happens that my grandpapa’s work involved research of this area. We have some of his old journals at home. We practically have this done!” She boasted, and for a lie this one seemed rather...dumb to say the least. How was she going to get out of something so plainly’put up or shut up’? “So I guess we’re doing it at your place?” He remarks as he looks back at his notes for the list of suggested topics. A sound like a strangled cat catches his attention back to the brunette, she was red in the face and sputtering, “excuse me? Come again?” She wheezes between two steadying breaths. He’s confused at to what set her off but he repeats himself, “Are we doing the project at your house? Where the journals are?” And by golly she goes from looking mad to being embarrassed. “Oh, sure” comes the oddly soft response.

After school Marin texted his parents that he’d be home for dinner and prayed that if this was some kind of murder plot that they would at least start the search for his body quickly. The awkward silence dragged on until it got to be too much for the boy so he asks, “So what did your grandpa do?” After a few steps Lila answers with a grand sweep of her hand towards a front door. “You’ll just have to see, welcome to the Castello Rossi!” For all the grand showmanship it’s a very plain looking house, well kept but plain. “How nice, I like your plants.” Marin comments trying to be civil since they still have work to do.

As Lila opens the door with another grand gesture Marin is shocked to see how empty and impersonal it feels. Most of the front room looks unlived in with just two picture frames sitting on the mantle. “Mama won’t be home till later so let’s go to the office and get as much done as we can.” She states, beckoning him to follow. The office is a stark contrast to the room earlier, stacks of important looking paper tower on the dark wooden desk, Knick-nacks and books fill the shelves, and family phones are scattered along the walls. While Marin is taking it all in Lila goes to a shelf in the corner and pulls out two worn out sketch books.

As it turns out Lila’s grandpa was part of a team of anthropologists that studied post World War I art and his books were a mix of notes on the how the war changed how the art had changed and sketches of people he had interviewed. It was all so fascinating and emotional. Marcelo Rossi had a way with words, Marin felt like he could hear the man’s voice narrate as he read entry after entry. They easily got most of their project done, the impact of WWI in everyday life, all they needed was a second source and they would be finished. All in all it was a not horrible experience, maybe if Lila could shape up they could really be friends like everyone wanted.

Ending 1: not so bad

Marin was surprised that in the week and a half that they had been working together to discover the Rossi family were well known in nitch circles of the anthropology and archaeological sciences. He had seen a picture of her great aunt recording the dying language of the Tihan people of Tiahana, gotten to read the musings of the eccentric late great-great-uncle Sal who studied prehistoric plants. They were amazing people who changed their fields, it was a wonder Lila depended on lies to get attention. When the day of the presentation came up Marin was excited to share what they had written, Lila even brought scans of the sketch books to pass around. Everyone else’s reports were pretty standard in comparison so when it was their turn they knocked it out of the park!

After class Marin walked out with Lila like he had done everyday for a week when to realized that he didn’t need to follow her anymore. It caught him off guard at how sad that made him, he liked seeing the real Lila under all the lies and faux confidence. Did they really have to pop their little bubble just because they didn’t share a goal anymore? “Aren’t you coming?” Lila asked tugging on Marin’s sleeve, “We need to celebrate, that report was definitely an A. We deserve a treat!” She declares, dragging the less than reluctant boy along with her. They announced their relationship a few days later to the cheers of the class.

Ending 2: how did it end up like this

Marin had gotten to know the real Lila over the week and a half they worked together. He had really gotten through to her as he assured her that what her family did was interesting and there was no need to hide behind her web of lie. She agreed to come clean to the class with Marin to vouch for her after the project. He was really proud of her and was planning on asking her to lunch together later that day.

Strangely when they walked in that morning in prep for the report Marin felt the burning feeling of eyes boring into the back of his head. Ms Bustier met them at the bottom of the steps, “Lila is it really a good idea for you to come in today with everything that you’ve done?” The teacher inquired with a grit of her teeth. A murmur rippled through the room as Marin realized the glares weren’t aimed at his mmm for a change. Lila paled and looked around the class before focusing back on Ms Bustier, “What’s going on? What do you mean by what ‘I’ve done’?” The brunette asks a bit nervously.

It was Alya that stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Lila. “You lied about everything, you made me think you were going to help me with my career! You just strung us along like puppets!” She roared, Juleka had to hold the journalist back from rush the Italian. “Alya sit down! I will handle this!” Barked Ms Bustier, looking very run down and already very tired for the time of day. If Marin though Lila was pale before then she looked ghostly now, her eyes looked huge on her face as she looked at the struggling Alya. “As you can see. It would be best if you spent the day with the principal. Your mother should be here soon” the teacher growled.

Just then Juleka lost her grip and Alya rushed forward making Lila bolt out the door. Marin braced his body, the same way he did when Manon tries to escape to cling to her mom, and grabbed Alya around the middle and kept her from chasing his friend. “Why are you stopping me! She lied, you know she lied!” Raved the girl trying to wrestle her way out of his grip. “She played us!” She snarled. “She played you like the cheap kazoo you are!” Marin responded in kind. “I told you before it was a problem that she was lying but none of you would hear me out, you asked for proof, you called me envious! But it’s now that I like her and she promised to come clean that you choose to see the truth!? Fuck you guys!” He yells, dropping Alya on her ass and running after Lila.

He finds her crying in the hall that leads to the principal’s office. Her eyes are red and puffy, it breaks his heart to see her scrubbing her face in an effort to make the tears stop. Kneeling down next to her Matin holds his arm out so she can curl up into his side. “Don’t worry about them. They never knew the real you. After all the talk they spout about friendship and loyalty and giving chances they never even tried to get to know who was under all the celebrity stories. They all dropped you without asking questions or giving you a chance. So don’t worry about them. You have me.” He promises, rubbing her back soothingly. They wait there a long time before Mrs Rossi arrives, Marin stays for the meeting holding Lila’s hand through the whole ordeal. With compromises on both sides Lila is allowed to stay in the school but she will be switching classes and seeing a councilor. After Marin walks Lila and her mom back to their car, it might not be the best time but he’s not sure when he’ll get the chance again, “Once you’re not grounded anymore will you go out for coffee with me? Or a movie, I don’t even know if you like coffee.” He rambles get stopped in their tracks when Lila leans over and places a peck on his cheek. “I’d love to” she smiles, eyes still a bit wet, before having to close the car door and drive away.

#foxx writes #lilanette #male!marinette #ml angst #no heroes au #ineedspellcheck

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kawaiijellymonster · 4 years ago

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So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head.

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

#long post #fanfic lines that deserve to be in a hall of fame #fanfic #rambles #lol

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snake-noodles · 5 years ago

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Hidden Away - Chapter 3

TW: talk of death, mentions of alcohol, body horror, implied self harm, parasites, spiders, skin trauma. Please tell me if I missed anything

Words: 3961

Read on AO3

On the very top floor, preparations were being made.

It was a very special day. Very special indeed. For once in the longest time, they would be seeing the founder himself. He barely came around, being one of the only ones able to leave this place.

A smiled in the dark room. Smiled as cheerily as he could for an AI programmed without emotions. All for Thomas, he'd remind himself. He knows that Thomas will be upset- but it's okay. He'll get used to it, and he'll learn that A has everything under control. Then the corporation will thrive better than ever! He fills the champagne glasses, despite not being able to drink himself, and sets it down gently. Everything must be perfect. Even though he knows neither of them will drink. Even though he knows they don't agree. Even though he knows this meeting won't last long. Even though he knows that Thomas will be upset. Soon, he'll be able to have everything under his careful control.

The door opens, and the lights come on. A looks over, an uncomfortable smile sitting on his face. Remy, whom he called in, blows his kazoo half heartedly.

Thomas steps in, and is Greatly Confused.

"Greetings, Thomas. It's so good seeing you again." He says, no emotion in his voice. Remy drops his kazoo.

"Heya, daddy-o. I don't know what this celebration is for, but I see alcohol." He smirks. "The others should be here soon."

"... What is happening exactly?" Thomas asks, confusion clear on his face.

"Oh, right. You might think that it's someone's birthday or a celebration of sorts." A hums. "But it's not. Congratulations on your first death in the new team! One more death, and plenty more to come."

A claps, and Remy looks uncomfortable, suddenly not really into the party. Thomas looks pale.

"Do you have to do this every time? Everytime we get a new team, you do this and celebrate the first person to die." Thomas furrows his eyebrows. A blinks.

"I'm simply getting you used to death, sir. It isn't all bad." A clapped his hands, and Remy rushed to leave the room and get back to his team, mumbling something about letting the other sephiras know. The two stare, before A's head snaps back to Thomas unnaturally. "But, enough of that. We have important matters to discuss, after all."

The two sit down, an uncomfortable silence settling over him as Thomas stares at his AI counterpart.

"You do understand why I've called you here, correct?" A states, voice suddenly cold. Thomas nods.

"Yes, I do. And I don't agree with you." He states firmly, a stubborn look across his face.

"It would greatly benefit all of us, sir." A pauses, narrowing his eyes, leaning forward. "Do you want this to fail?"

"Of course not! But-"

" Then you will do as I say ."

Thomas flinches as the cold hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist. He knows that A could easily kill him. Both of them know this. But they know just as well that Thomas could easily dispose of A. They could cause each others demise. And even though they were two sides of the same coin, there was no trust in their relationship. They had to be aware of each other's moves at all times. It was like a dangerous game of chess, and they both had their eyes set for the king.

"I will not." He says, trying not to let his voice waver. It was hard to stand up to A. He's a naturally emotional person. A isn't even human.

A sighs, taking his hand away and folding them on top of each other.

"You will come around eventually. We have no use for these emotions getting in our way… Face it, Thomas. You need me. I can show you the way. We shall thrive." He reaches out to grab Thomas's hand, but he pulls back, standing up.

"No. Not like this. Not with how you're running things."

"Oh? And what are you going to do about it sir?"

"I'll run this place myself."

A's eyes widen, and then he smiles, standing himself. He tilts his head.

"Fine then. I'm glad you've stopped hiding like a coward." He steps forward, straightening Thomas's jacket.

"But I'll show you. You need me, Thomas. Isn't that why you created me?"

He says nothing.

And the game of chess has officially begun.

> Welcome back to Lobotomy Corp, PATTON.

> …

> You have 2 new messages. Would you like to read them?

> NO.

> Understood, I have saved them for later.

Patton sighs, rubbing his aching head. He feels exhaustion, and he glances over at his sleeping roommate. He should be asleep too. He needs to be in tip top shape if he wants to do a good job. He wants to be able to see Virgil. Even though his containment absolutely terrifies him, he doesn't want to leave Virgil. Not ever again does he want to leave him.

It made him sad. Which isn't great since he's supposed to be happy! Happy and cheerful nurse that makes others feel better! He doesn't want to drag anyone down with him.

But… Logan already seems to be going down.

He's never seen Logan scare an abnormality like that before. He's never pulled his weapon on one that didn't even breach containment. And that scared him.

He didn't want to be scared of Logan. He shouldn't be! They're friends, after all. The abnormality seemed terrified. He didn't look like too much of a threat- maybe he didn't mean to affect Logan like that? He doesn't know. He always tries to see the best in everything. Even the abnormalities.

He didn't like seeing the abnormalities locked up. He knows with his position, he's not allowed to say anything about that. It just felt… inhumane. The spaces were so small and cramped. It's no place for anyone to comfortably live.

He hates seeing things in pain. He regularly has to visit a few of them. F-02-44(T) hated itself with a passion, and it reminded him of The Du- Remus. Remus. It always hurt itself, hating how grotesque it looked. Remus is one he also visited frequently. He always managed to somehow hurt himself. Even with the chains wrapped around him that Patton hates looking at. Virgil was the one he visited the most. He didn't need as much treatment as the previous two, but… Patton felt better when he spent time with Virgil. He wants to make up for all the time he didn't when Virgil was still…

Patton shakes his head, laying back in his bed and staring at the ceiling, his roommate's soft snoring filling up the empty air. He felt like there was a hole in his chest. A hole that's been slowly growing ever since he started working here.

He realizes that the plot of his life doesn’t make sense to him anymore- that although he thought he was following the arc of the story, he keeps finding himself immersed in passages he doesn't understand. Like right now. He never would have expected himself to end up in this place.

He longed for his freedom again, after having it thrown out into the wind, watching it leave him while all he can do is stand and wait for death.

He didn't like thinking about that, either. He knows Logan would scold him if he found out, but god he's terrified of dying in this place. He'll never get to see his family again. Maybe his family was small and broken, but now that he's been taken away from it, he realizes how much he really loved them. He knows he loves his family, but being stuck here only made him realize how much he truly cares.

He wishes he could talk to them. To hug them one last time. He doesn't want to die here. At least, he'd like to see them again before dying here. He missed them. He missed them more than he could ever possibly handle.

Everything was perfect for him. Even with his small, struggling family. Things were finally looking up.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

He's grown used to crying silently. He can't be a child here. He can't be immature. So, whenever he cries, he's learned how to suppress his sobs and his hiccups.

He curls up, exhaustion weighing on his body like a heavy blanket. He doesn't remember when he fell asleep.

Morning broke. Or at least he could assume that it's morning. His clock said it was morning. He couldn't be too sure, though. He sighs, rubbing his tired eyes. Nurses had to get up earlier than regular employees so that they wouldn't get in the way of research when treating an abnormality. He was tasked to check on O-01-62(H) once more this morning to make sure he didn't revert back to the state he was in yesterday.

He was a little nervous, he didn't really know about this new abnormality after all. He was still in risk of danger himself. He stands up, stretching out his tired limbs, trying not to wake up his roommate. He just needs to take his meds, get dressed, and be on his way!

Leaving his room, he mentally tries to cheer himself up. He was always down when it was early morning. The only other people out in the hallways were the sephiras, guards, and other nurses. Though the hallways were still sparse. He waves at Remy as he passes by. Remy, despite being on a different team, was the one he saw most often. He never really saw the sephirot for the team he helped with. Nate was his name? Or maybe it was Toby? He's not sure, he can't quite remember.

Once he makes sure he's on the right floor, he double checks his notes before walking down the empty hallway, his footsteps echoing. He trails before stopping at O-01-62(H) . He takes a deep breath, before entering the containment.

Inside laid the serpent. Coiled around himself in such an unnatural, inhuman way that made Patton tense up a little. Upon hearing the door open, his head snaps up and he smiles. Patton smiles back, albeit more nervous.

"Well, if it isn't Nurse Joy." He hisses, slowly standing to his full height. Patton liked to think he was rather tall himself, only just being a few inches shorter than Logan, who was 6'4. He was the perfect dad height, in his opinion. But standing in front of abnormalities makes him feel… tiny. The reptile was tall. Perhaps 6'8? He was only a few inches taller than Logan, he thinks. Not the tallest in the building for sure, but perhaps it was more so his anatomy that added to the unpleasant nervousness Patton was feeling right now.

He smiles awkwardly.

"Hello! Deceit, was it? I was sent to check up on you this morning." He smiles, stepping forward. When the other doesn't make any moves to stop him, he approaches. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Oh, I feel absolutely miserable. I think I might be dying." The snake drones, putting the back of his hand to his head. Patton giggles.

"Very funny! But, I need the truth if you wanna feel better." He puts his hands on his hips, and the two stare at each other.

"Hm…" He hums, leaning down to match Patton's height. He stares for a moment. "I'm fine. I'm sure there are other abnormalities that need help more than I do."

"Well, as long as you're doing okay…!" He hesitates, fiddling with his pen. "Logan doesn't usually act like that… Maybe he's just stressed! He's really a nice person…"

Deceit stares longer, before looking at his long nails, his forked tongue flickering out of his mouth. Patton has to hold himself back from immediately squealing.

"Logan is… Not normal… I know that's rich to hear coming from a freak of nature such as myself." He chuckles darkly, the noise brings a chill down the nurse's spine. "He doesn't seem right in the head. He used to be just like everyone else, I believe… But something happened."

He crosses his arms, two more coming out to tidy his hair and straighten his hat before sinking back into his body. Patton tries to ignore how his stomach twists.

"... I don't know… I'll try talking to him, if I can. He doesn't… do those sorts of things." He frowns, and the abnormality clicks his tongue.

"You're different than the others… I'm sure anyone else would be happy to let the nerd kill me… but you should be going. I'm fine, after all. You're Virgil's little friend, right? Go and bother him instead."

Patton freezes, eyes widened as he looks up at the abnormality. His fingers twitch and he anxiously wets his lips.

"... How do you know about Virgil?" He asks, voice silent. The snake smiles, putting a finger up to his mouth.

"I don't know anything, Patty cake. Move along little lamb, other patients need you more than I do." His eye glows, a brilliant gold that captivated Patton. And without even thinking, Patton turns and leaves the room.

He steps into the hallway, blinking. Was there something he should be worried about? He isn't sure… Well, it's probably not too important, whatever it was! Humming, he decides to check up on Virgil. He felt a bit anxious, walking down his dark hallway, but if it were lightened, Virgil wouldn't be afraid to leave his containment. He sighs, looking up at the door, T-01-43(T) . He braces himself and steps inside.

The containment was illuminated by a single lightbulb, and Virgil would draw to it like a moth to a flame.

He looks up, seeing the long, spindling spider legs. They were bigger than Virgil himself. The were long, and sharp, and twitched uncomfortably. Patton swallows, and the spider looks down. Virgil is so pale now. His eyes are nothing but black. Slowly, he climbs down- his spider legs clumsy and uncertain in the way they move. Patton was scared. He hates that he's scared of Virgil. But he still smiles, anxious.

"Virgil, how are you today?" He asks, stepping forward. Virgil takes a shaky breath, backing up, only to jump when his extra limbs hit the wall.

"Good, g-good. I'm good. I'm fine. Good." He rambles, wringing his hands together and trying to make himself smaller. Patton frowns, taking a step closer.

"Hey, it's okay, kiddo. We'll figure this out… Has it gotten any worse?" He asks quietly, hand hovering over the spider's shoulder, but not touching it.

"I-I don't know… still hurts.. hurts alot. I want to pry them off." He sucks in air through his teeth.

"L-Let's not rip off any limbs!" He laughs nervously. "... Is it okay if I look?"

Virgil hesitates, before nodding. It was hard to put on and take off clothing, but he'd rather die than be shirtless all the time. The backs of all his clothes had large slits in them, keeping them together with two buttons, sort of but not exactly like a hospital gown. Of course, this meant he couldn't wear his jacket anymore, but it was always wrapped around his waist.

Patton slowly unbuttons his black shirt, extremely careful to not touch the protruding spider legs. Once it's off, he frowns.

"... Is it bad? Getting better? I-I can never see it. I-I-I don't- I don't want to see it really- please don't tell me how bad it is-" He breathes heavily and Patton gently pats his shoulder for some sort of comfort.

Besides the very obvious spider limbs, a problem they've been keeping their eye on has been the slowly growing blackness in Virgil's skin. It apparently hurts, but not too much to where it's excruciating. And it all stemmed from the bump in the back of Virgil's neck. The smooth exoskeleton of what used to be another abnormality, burrowed into Virgil's skin. It was a parasite of sorts. And they couldn't remove it. Even touching it made Virgil's stable mindset slip.

But the dark, almost purple color has been spreading slowly.

He's scared that Virgil will be lost completely before he can find a way to reverse this. He's already been slipping into more monstrous tendencies, and even though he isn't used to using his new legs, he's made things that resemble webs. Touching them burn , though. Not to mention how Virgil has started eating.

Patton grimaces, before coming to sit in front of Virgil.

"How's your eyesight?" Patton asks, brushing some hair out of the way of Virgil's eyes.

"... It's getting darker… It's really hard to see… I-Is the light still on? The lights are still bright, right? Patton, I-I don't wanna go blind. It's getting hard to see- I can't- I don't-" Virgil panics, voice slipping for a moment, but Patton grabs his hands carefully.

"You'll be okay. It's gonna be okay. We'll… We'll definitely solve this! I'll make sure to have a brighter light installed… I-Is there anything else I should know?"

Virgil shakes his head, and Patton nods.

"You're not leaving, are you?" He asks, voice quiet and desperate.

"I have to. I promise I'll come back tonight, though. We'll figure this out, okay?" He speaks, voice barely a whisper. He's not sure why he's whispering. Virgil nods, slowly pulling his hands away and folding them on his lap. His legs move, shifting awkwardly in the small room. He looks small. Uncertain. Unsure.

Patton hates leaving him.

But the moment he does leave, he feels exceptionally less anxious, despite the ghost feeling of creepy crawlies all over his skin. He shudders, scratching his arms. He spent more time there than he should have. Now he'll have to check up on Remus later, which didn't sit quite well with him. Even though he'd leave that cell with at least one injury, he hated leaving him to hurt himself.

He hates entering that room, but he's sure Roman has it much worse… seeing his own brother chained down and turned into… that. He frowns, rubbing his wrists.

He needs to speak to Logan, still. What happened yesterday wasn't sitting right with him. Logan wouldn't hurt something that couldn't fight back, right? He wouldn't hurt something that didn't even escape, right? He's not sure. He wants to trust his friend with this. They've been friends for a while now! Logan wouldn't do something like this. He's sure of it.

Still, he's not sure how he'll bring it up to Logan. What if he's dismissive? What if he doesn't care? What if he gets angry? His stomach twists and he frowns. Why is he worrying so much? This will be fine! He just needs to catch Logan when he's not busy!

… Which might take a while.

Patton looks down, seeing that he needs to get to his office in 30 minutes. So he has a little time to maybe grab a drink and something to eat. He can't have much though. He really wishes he could have proper meals, but most of his time is dedicated to his work.

He stops by a vending machine to get food so he won't starve to death. He wants to bake again. He doesn't remember the last time he's baked. But, well, he can't waste his time getting sad about it..! He adjusts his glasses and eats as he walks, hoping to not waste any time. He waves as he walks by some workers he knows, but slows down when he sees three people talking. There's Remy, A, and… someone who looks a lot like A. He blinks, and Remy catches his eye- at least he thinks so. It's hard to tell with the sunglasses.

"Hey, Patton-cake!" He waves with his free hand, the other holding a mug. The other two turn to look, and he suddenly feels very put on the spot. A was… incredibly strict. If he messes up, who knows what will happen.

"Uh, hello! Did you need me?" He asks, walking over.

"Not really, but I thought I should introduce you." He smiles, patting the nurse on the back.

"This is Patton Hart, he's one of the best nurses here. I'm sure it'd help him alot if we, I dunno, got better medical equipment Thomas?" He asks, nudging Patton slightly. Patton freezes up some more. God, it's the founder himself out of all people. He prays that he doesn't die today.

"We do not need-" A speaks up before Thomas holds up a hand.

"We'll look into supplying the doctors with better equipment." He says quickly, never once turning to look at his AI counterpart, who wore a scowl. It was scary seeing the so called emotionless robot upset.

"I-It's really nice meeting you, Mr. Sanders..! Thank you, I should get going I'll do my best!" He says quickly, getting out of there as soon as possible. He hears Remy say something, but he's already in the elevator.

He takes in a deep breath, looking down to see a message from Remy.

> Make sure to get the new medicine from Emmi's office, boo~ ♡

A smile tugged at his lips, and he looks away, glad that no one was upset with him. He lets out a breath, waiting for the elevator. Despite this being a high tech place with alot of cool stuff, the workers were given the short end of the stick. Not like he's allowed to complain.

But, he wonders why Thomas was here. He almost never shows himself, and Patton has never even seen his face until today. Did something happen? Why did he suddenly come back? Is work going to get better or worse now that he's here again?

He isn't sure. A was already incredibly intimidating, and never thought about people's lives. He wondered what Thomas would be like. Thomas is human, right? Surely, he must have better morals compared to something that isn't alive. He gulps, suddenly incredibly nervous. He has a lot to worry about today, huh? At least getting the medicine won't be hard… Emile was kind.

He doesn't want to think about dealing with Remus later. And thinking about talking to Logan is stressing him out a lot more than it should. Not to mention he doesn't even know how many patients he'll get today. This is too stressful for him. He just wants to eat cookies and watch movies. He huffs, and the elevator shakes as its doors open. He steps out, adjusting his glasses.

Guess he won't be eating lunch today.

In a dark room on the very top floor, a chess piece moves across the board. His eyes glowed in the dark room, the only color on him. A cold, icy blue.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, sir ?" The word comes out as more of a taunt, venom dripping off of his words.

"Of course. Do you know what you're doing?"

"I do. I always know what I'm doing."

Neither of them speak as a pawn is taken off of the board. It's silent. The slightest of noises could be heard.

They stare at each other, neither daring to look away. Then, the door opens.

"A, you're needed." The AI speaks, and A stands up, putting a hand on Thomas's shoulder.

"Just have faith in me. I will make everything better."

And he leaves without waiting for a response. Thomas sits there, fists clenched.

He walks down the hall, a smile on his face. He will make things better. He will make this corporation thrive. And if he has to play dirty to get there, then so be it. He can play dirty.

Thomas won't even know what hit him.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #technically not in this chatper but still #loceit #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #lobotomy corporation #lobotomy corp au #my writing #snake.txt #ask to tag

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opinuun · 5 years ago

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Do you guys remember when this was a studio Ghibli blog and I’d post gifs? 2017 was a good year lol. Anyway. As a child, I never knew I’d thirst for a 2-D otome man, but sadly I’ve stopped. Yes, after two years of obsession, it’s time I retire from the fandom. I’m keeping the blog though. Ran this shit for years, ain’t gonna give up now that my horny-meter has plummeted to an all time record low. Did you guys know blogs don’t have a character limit??

Oh god. I didn’t know this blog would suddenly receive so much attention. Please, I am begging you to not scroll down. It’s endless MysticMessenger posts from two years ago.

Hey, I'm once again: back, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this blog. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when you're not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm back!*smiles brightly* And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmm...I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) I'll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, I'm not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!!!!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named [email protected] Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account, [email protected] Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!!!*waits for readers to become insanely jealous* Yep, that's right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldn't let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages . That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages , right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating. And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg" webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/responsibility of the creators. That was sort of a topic, even though it was sort of random. Which is what I do best. Okay, I'm done with that litte commercial. What now...hmmmmm...should I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? Or have I been doing that too much lately? Oooooo! I know, I'll start of list of why it's fun/good to be insane/weird! #1You can say or do anything and normal people will agree with you in the hopes that you'll be satisfied, shut up, and go away. Far away. I will show you an example with this completly true stuff that I experienced several years ago. ME: My vicious, psychotic, flesh-eating bunny-rabbit wants to rule the world. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. ME: Yeah, but I told her that she'd be a terible ruler. I mean, she traded Asia for a carrot! And she doesn't even LIKE carrots! RANDOM PERSON: You don't say? ME: Yep. She also is the goddess of red jello. RANDOM PERSON: *head explouding from sheer insanity* As you can see, I was a very weird child (this happened in elementary school...uh...except for that head-explouding part). Okay...on to: #2 You can get out of practically anything by saying: a)It's against my religion b)I'm allergic to that. c)I have an extremly irrational fear of that. d)I already did that in a past life and it sucked. e)My psychotic bunny predicted I'd die doing it. Unfortunalty, several of those reasons LEGITAMITLY apply to a certain activity I do every Tuesday, which WILL NOT BE NAMED HERE LEST I GIVE IT POWER OVER ME! I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religion...along with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. Thou shalt not eat spuds. Hmmmm...time for #3You can obsessive over ANYTHING, and people will think nothing of it. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheese...and chickens...and flame. Fire is good. Fire is free. Fire is my friend...until it burns me. Then it must die...painfully. And on to:#4You make your friends look normal in comparison. And #5: You can give each of your pets several weird names such as: Ringling-Raison-Bailey-Suzana-Midnight-Schultz, Squirell, Moose, Moose-Moose, Moosey-Moose, Linzey-Moose, Muffin, Squirell-Muffin, Yabby-Doodle, Abby Normal, Wiggle-Baby, Wiggle-Muffin, Witle-Baby, Cheese-Monkey, Muffin-With-Squirell-Juice, Squirell-With-Muffin Juice, Moosey-Juice, Squirell-Monkey, etc. Now, wasn't that a fun list!? Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? I should make bumber stickers saying that. Proud to be weird. It'd be cool. Anyway, gotta go! *yawn* I'm back. Last night I was super-charged with lots of sugar and not a lot of sleep. I ended up writing things during the time of night when EVERYTHING is hilarious, including the word sheep. To compound things, I wasn't alone, and things just escalated. The following is everything I wrote during that sugar-coated time period. Some are answers to e-mails, the rest are just stuff I wrote.

Definitly. THen we go to library. Guess what? Me and Josh ate lots and lots of sugar, and it's late at nite and everything is funny but we can't laugh 'cause everybody is sleepin' so it's even funnier but ever since we drank the water we sobered up even though we weren't drunk but we ate sugar...lots and lots of sugar. MOstly donut cake. Okay. JOsh says it was only one piece of cake. WE got it at Wal-mart. Or his mom did. OR something. Goodbye..

#long post

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queen-of-deans-booty · 6 years ago

Text

No Distractions

Characters: Rock Star!Dean Winchester x Reader, minor characters

Word Count: 1,459

Warnings: none

Summary: With Dean being so busy with his career, he loses sight of what’s really important--and who.

Squared Filled: Vegas // Rock Star!Dean

Author’s Note: I know some of you have requested fics, and I promise I will get to them. I just need to finish these bingos before the deadline in June/July of this year. I am also trying to post daily again so bear with me. This is for @spngenrebingo and @spnaubingo and this is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Pre-school: his tiny hands would bang on any surface that he could reach, making as much noise as possible. Much to the daycare teacher’s displeasure, he would be in his own little world, slapping his hands on all kinds of surfaces because he loved the different kind of noises it made.

Third grade: to pass the time in class, he would take two number 2 pencils and drum them against the desk, causing a distraction for the whole class. The teacher would get mad at him, but you’d watch in amazement that he could make music just by two orange pencils. The kids around him seemed to be more interested in him than the teacher which is why she threatened to send him to the front office if he didn’t put them away.

Seventh grade: by this time, his parents had given up and bought him a small drum kit, one that wasn’t very good, but was still able to keep him occupied. He’d be at the drum set every day after school, and you would be there next to him, doing your homework as you listened to the music he’d create from scratch. It was amazing how long he’d kept up this hobby, and he’d talked to you about making this his career one day. With just enough practice, he might get there.

Eleventh grade: he had joined high school band to play the drums for the first year, but it didn’t seem to click in his mind. He wanted to play more rock than what they were going for which is why he was interested in music class. They offered all kinds of instruments, and he was the first to grab the drums once he laid eyes on a real drum set. Playing acoustic guitar was something you picked up on over the years, and that instrument was yours. To be honest, you just took the class to watch him play.

Junior year of college: right from the start of college, he had found some friends to form a band that would play around the school, maybe participated in a few low-key gigs that paid pretty well for an up and coming starter band. You had been his supporter all throughout his life, and you weren't going to stop now. At this rate, he would become a rock and roll drummer, famous all around the world. Seeing him progress through his career is something that gave you joy because he was your best friend, and you would do anything you could to see him succeed.

Present day: Dean had been offered by many recording companies if he and his band would produce music, which, of course, he said yes. It was hard to pick only one, but you might have had something to do with that. While he wanted to be a musician, you have always wanted to be a producer, and you pulled some strings to get him the producer he wanted: you.

It was a dream come true to see him live it out on stage, playing for thousands of people only to rack it up to millions. From the start of preschool, he had wanted nothing more than to be a drummer, and now he’s gotten it, you weren't going to do anything to tear that away from him. He’s played on stages from all around the world, and at each event, you were backstage to watch him play.

The only downfall to this was the more popular he became, the less time you got to be alone with him. It was always play here, sign this, appear there. His happiness was your number one priority, but sometimes you wished you were back in his mom’s basement, watching him play on the shitty drum kit his mom gave him.

His latest gig, the one he scored in Vegas, he wanted you to be there for the opening night. There was no way you could say no to him, so you made sure to take the first flight you could to be there on time before they even got started setting up to see if you could score some alone time with him.

When you got there, that dream was crushed to a million pieces once you saw him surrounded by fans. He looked so happy to be signing their papers and taking pictures, and he looked so breathtakingly gorgeous, you decided to stay out of it until he was done. When he finally finished, it was time to get set up on stage.

The concert had been a hit, and afterward, there would be a small party at one of the casinos to celebrate the success of it all. He made sure you were coming to that, and it wasn’t like you were going to miss it. Maybe you might get in some alone time to tell him how you truly felt. It broke your heart that your best friend was being taken from you by the rest of the world, and you needed to tell him how you felt now before it was too late.

While at the casino, the whole band got together to have a few drinks before they all went on their separate ways to do their own thing. You found Dean huddled with a group of girl fans as they giggled away to try and impress him. Sighing, you took a seat at one of the games, frowning as you put in a twenty.

“Ladies, you can all get your pictures. Don’t worry,” Dean smiled as they giggled. They were pretty and nice and all that, but he really wanted to be spending time with only one person: his best friend.

“You did so well on that stage,” one woman fawned.

“Yeah, you really know what you’re doing there,” another smirked. Something told him to look away from the girls, to pay attention to what was in front of him. He looked up to see you trying your luck at one of the slots, with a sad frown on your face.

“Ladies, would you excuse me one minute?” he said as he gently pushed them to the side. He walked to you and took a seat at the other slots next to yours. “Hey, you okay?”

“No, Dean, I’m not okay,” you gathered the money you won and got up, leaving his side to be on your own. It broke your heart to treat him this way, but you really missed your best friend. He watched as you walked off to the VIP section and took a seat, taking out your phone to absentmindedly play on it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked once he reached you.

“Don’t you have fans to take pictures with? Sign some things?” you asked, not looking at him.

“Y/N talk to me,” he sighed. The VIP section was empty which boosted your confidence a little bit.

“I fucking miss you, Dean. Do you know how long it has been since the two of us hung out?”

“We did before the show.”

“I meant alone, Dean. Don’t you miss the days where it was you and me, your drum set, and nothing else? Don’t get me wrong, I am so fucking proud of you for making it this far. I just… I miss you,” you sighed sadly.

“I guess I got caught up with everything, that I lost sight of who was truly by my side through it all. I’m so sorry.”

“And I better say this now because I don’t know when I might get another chance, but I love you. Like, romantically. I didn’t want to live my life without telling you that just in case you might feel the same way as I do.”

“Alright, here goes. For the past few weeks, I have been thinking about you romantically. You have always been there for as long as I can remember, never once giving up hope on my dreams. People said that what I wanted was a foolish dream, that I should think about something practical, but you never gave up on me. I hate that it took me this long to realize it, but I do love you,” he smiled, “romantically.”

“We should make a pact,” you stated, grabbing his hand. “We will spend one day a week where it’s just me and you, no distractions. If we’re going to make this work, we need to be there for one another. I don’t want to mess this up before it’s even starting.”

“I like that pact,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in. At that moment, the other people in the room didn’t matter. You had Dean and he had you. Just like it has always been.

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saintcanardmoved · 5 years ago

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Oh god. I didn’t know this blog would suddenly receive so much attention. Please, I am begging you to not scroll down. It’s endless MysticMessenger posts from two years ago.

#long post

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alittletournesol · 6 years ago

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Sing Your Soul {JongKey} part 2/?

Part 2

Eight in the morning had rang on Kibum’s phone, stirring him from sleep as a ball of fur buried its muzzle in his sweatshirt sleeve. The young man blindly grabbed the device and turned the alarm off before he stretched his back, a low grunt escaping his throat. It took him a few seconds to open his eyes and notice the poodle lying on him and seeking for some strokes. With a smile, he welcomed the curly head with a gentle hand, caressing here and scratching there, until a bark startled him.

Standing near the couch, a second puppy was staring at him, black hair half hiding its eyes. It only made Kibum smile more despite his tired eyes, and he slowly sat up straight while tapping the couch he had slept on. Within a second, both his hands were busy stroking his dogs for a sweet morning moment. He had come home early the previous evening, all thanks to Jinki, but somehow he had found himself working on his laptop until very late.

Sleeping on his couch was something common since he lived alone, it depended on his mood when bed time would come. Sometimes it was out of pure laziness because he was too tired to stand up and walk to his bed, some others he just wanted to sleep with his kids. At that moment, these two were still peaceful and he made the most of it because he knew it wouldn’t last long. Once he could free his hands, he caught his glasses resting on the couch’s backrest and put them on, sighing with comfort when he could finally see something.

Yawning, he let his thoughts gather in his brain and stood up, stretching and walking towards the kitchen. The puppies followed him and got under his feet, ignoring his whines and complaints about it until he filled their bowls. As soon as he was sure they wouldn’t come to him to play, he smiled and petted them a little before he turned his vintage coffee maker on and headed to his bathroom. Only a few minutes were enough for him to take a warm shower and really wake himself up, following his routine in front of his mirror.

Once his skin was decent looking and he had put his lenses and clothes on, he nodded to himself and went back to take a cup of coffee, accompanied with a bowl of cereals mixed with dried red berries. He had a weakness for western-like meals, to the extent he didn’t even remember how to properly cook dishes from his own country. His life had become full of pasta and sweet breakfasts, and he wouldn’t go back in time for anything in the world.

As he sat at the dining table and chewed, he sighed and took his phone to scroll through his social medias, as was his morning habit. He still wondered why he kept working on Saturdays, especially when trains’ hours were different and quite bothering ; he had often thought of investing in a car but although he had money to, he had realised it would take longer to endure the rush hours’ traffic. The subway was faster at least, when there weren’t some technical issues forcing him to wait in a crowded wagon…

This simple thought reminded him of the stop at Sindang station the day before, and he almost knocked his bowl over. Quickly, he opened the app he had saved a few posts on, the evening before at Minho’s bar, and found himself relieved that he hadn’t had only dreamed of doing it. The eight videos were there, patiently waiting for him to watch them, and he didn’t wait a second more. Playing the first one, he easily recognised the sharp features of the subway singer despite the blurred quality during the first seconds.

The sound wasn’t the clearest but it was enough for Kibum to be mesmerised once again, the crystalline voice reaching his ears and even deeper inside. The stranger was still playing his guitar, but considering he was only wearing a tank top and jeans, the video was dating back to summer time. The event planner could make out the singer’s tanned skin, emphasised by his white hair not hidden under a hood this time. The song’s melody was quite punchy and refreshing although it remained sweet, and gave a pleasant summer vibe.

On another video, he wore a cap and the same kind of hoodie from the day before, but his guitar was against the wall. Instead, he was ringing a small instrument with bells, following the rhythm of a different song. Even if the style was different, his voice suited it so well it felt like he could sing anything, as if every note came so easily from his throat. He didn’t even seem to make a great effort from outside, but Kibum had heard Jinki talk a lot about how hard it could actually be to sing in tune.

The brown haired man watched all the videos he had under his eyes, frowning at this strange small instrument which made a buzzing noise. It looked like a toy for a child but strangely, the stranger was making it his own accompanist, it was pretty unique and original. A quick glance at the comments and a web research let Kibum know it was called a kazoo and that the singer didn’t blow in it but actually hummed to make it vibrate with different tunes.

Another video that held his attention showed the guy singing a capella. No instrument, no other sound than his voice singing a song sounding rather sad but not less beautiful. Even if he was just watching a screen and listening to a bad quality audio, the event planner found himself deeply moved by the lyrics and melody of a very slow song asking for forgiveness.

“This guy is amazing.” He eventually whispered before lowering his head to find his two dogs staring at him. “Kids, we can’t let him waste his talent like that, can we ?”

The pups naturally didn’t reply but the way they tilted their heads to the side was enough for Kibum. He hadn’t any plan at the moment but it would come sooner or later, he had the whole day ahead of him before taking the subway and willingly stopping earlier than he should.

A day had never flown by slower than that day, even with the certain amount of work that had awaited the event planner as soon as he had stepped in his office. He had spent hours planning this business meeting, calling hotels in Jeju without any break before he had eventually found an agreement with an owner. After all, it couldn’t be easy to privatise a hotel and a beach for the next month, so the customer would have to content himself with the whole first floor including a huge meeting room.

Even when he had thought of taking a break, he had received a call he couldn’t have refused, and more planning to do. It was almost seven in the evening by now and Kibum was getting ready to leave his office, his heart suddenly beating faster at the thought of stopping at Sindang. He usually was the kind to approach people easily, yet this time he could feel a sort of stress holding his stomach with a strong grip.

After all, he was a stranger among others to this guy, and the latter wasn’t expecting more than a few coins thrown in his guitar’s case. The event planner put his coat on and made sure to close every door, thinking about the plan he had thought of from time to time. It wasn’t much but even though he wanted to do more, his position didn’t really allow him to take such a risk. He hadn’t asked any form of permission yet, but he was sure he could count on the person he was thinking about.

The lump in his throat kept growing as the subway was rolling, stops going by and Kibum counting them. After thinking about it a lot, he eventually decided to send a message to his contact but remained evasive, only telling them they must meet soon to talk business. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his stop, standing up quite fast and nearly stumbling on someone’s foot before he finally found himself on the platform. The place was crowded since countless persons were getting off, and the event planner managed to stand against the wall, waiting for the stampede to reduce.

Once he felt like breathing freely again, he adjusted his coat and styled his now messy hair before turning his head towards the corner he should find the singer. And the latter was here, but he wasn’t singing. Kibum frowned and checked his watch to realize it was already a couple of minutes past eight, and the blonde man was packing his things to leave. Without wasting more time, the brunette crossed the platform until he was close enough to make out the stranger’s face.

He was all in black that day, from his sweater to his holed jeans, if it wasn’t for the silver chain hanging at his belt and his rings. No hood this time, but an as dark cap with another ring on its peak. What the event planner hadn’t expected was for this man to be a bit shorter than him ; when the latter was sitting on his high stool, it wasn’t as noticeable as when he was standing. It was rather cute but it made the young man remember the a capella video… and wonder how such a powerful voice could come from this tiny body.

He was so lost in his observation that he didn’t react when the singer turned towards him and seemed to ask something. He snapped out of it when two fingers clicked in front of his face.

“There, welcome aboard.” The blonde guy, and his speaking voice was surprisingly lower than his singing one, startling the other man. “Is everything alright ?”

“Huh ? Oh, yes, yes I’m fine.” Kibum eventually got a grip on himself and cleared his throat. “You… You’re leaving already ?”

“Yeah, got some places to attend. Can I help you with something ? You’re the guy from yesterday, right ?”

“You can recognise me ?”

“Not everyone leaves fifty thousands of wons to a subway singer. Are you here to take them back ? I haven’t spent them yet.”

“What ? No, not at all, just keep them.”

The smile that enlightened the stranger’s face was so soft and grateful that the event planner got lost for words. He was standing there, certainly gaping and looking like a really strange dude, however the singer was patiently waiting for him and whatever he had to say.

“Hum, I’m usually here until eight.” The blonde eventually said to lighten the mood. “If you want to hear me again, just come a bit earlier than today and we’ll be good.”

“Oh, yeah, sure I was a bit late today.” Kibum nodded, what made the other slightly laugh. “Actually I wanted to propose you something. Would you like to sing somewhere else ? Bigger place, a real audience and—”

“Here we go again.”

The way he got interrupted by the blonde sighing and whispering these quite exasperated words made the brunette raise his eyebrows.

“Listen, you should just go home and mind your own business.” The singer said, his voice soft but his tune firm. “I’ve had my fill of scammers pretending to make a great artist of me, with promises of some company noticing me and all that bullshit. I lost money in those swizzles and disappointed not only myself but my closest relatives as well.”

“Wait, no, I’m not a scammer—” Kibum started, only to be cut off again.

“That’s how they all start. And then they ask for money to cover audition fees, contract fees, fees and more fees. In the end ? Nothing for me, it’s just hot air. I’m not falling for that again so if you don’t mind.”

The event planner didn’t have time to protest because the blonde just left, his guitar’s case on his back and stool under his arm. He stood there, dumbfounded but unable to reproach him for being suspicious, after all he was right : swindlers could be pretty merciless and destroy one’s dream with fake promises. Now he understood why this man hasn’t been noticed : perhaps he had, yet perhaps the fear of being scammed again had made him ignore and refuse everything blindly.

As he boarded the next train, Kibum sighed and found himself regretting to have been so bold. He couldn’t have expected the singer to take him wrong, but he had that terrible habit to never beat around the bush that sometimes put him in awkward situations. Tact, you have to work on your tact, he said to himself while looking at his phone on his lap. For the rest of his journey, he absent-mindedly played some famous game, his thumb sliding on the screen to create combinations of coloured forms.

After a while he reached his home, but his mood was so low he didn’t tolerate the silence of his apartment despite his dogs welcoming him warmly. He spent a bit of time with them and made sure to fill their bowls before he headed to his dressing room, grabbing a few clothes that fitted a night at the bar. Putting them on, he checked his hair and face in the bathroom’s mirror and caught a bag and his keys, leaving in the already dark night.

A few bus stops later, he was in front of the Blue Night, quite crowded but it wasn’t a surprise : it was Saturday night. When he entered the place, the singular ambiance filled him with a familiar feeling, and he got even more relaxed when he noticed Jinki sitting in front of the counter. Next to him, their young friend Taemin was here too, relishing a drink that seemed alcoholic. They were both chatting with Minho while the latter was refilling some glasses, running here and there to satisfy every customer.

When Kibum sat on the free tool next to the youngest man, his three friends stared at him for a second and immediately noticed something was off.

“I guess we’re in for a Martini ?” The bartender said, cocking an eyebrow when his best friend raised two fingers. “Vodka Martini then, you’re getting off to a good start.”

“Shitty day, hyung ?” Taemin asked, patting his elder’s back.

“Not that much, but it took a turn I didn’t expect.” The brunette shrugged. “You know the feeling when you get dumped ?”

“No, I’m the one who dump.”

“Shut up, I remember how you came whining at my door just a few weeks ago, when the last one broke up with you through a phone call.”

“Don’t rub it in, I’m still sensitive.”

“You asked for it.”

“Come on guys, as if it was necessary.” Minho rolled his eyes, handing his glass to Kibum. “I thought you would come with good news since your message said you got some business for me.”

The event planner let a huge sigh out and took a sip of his cocktail, the combination of liquors hitting him right away.

“Well my dear friend, I thought so myself.” He replied. “But I got dumped by the aforesaid business.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific if you want us to understand.” Jinki smiled. “A simple business wouldn’t put you in that state.”

“Maybe I have a crush on the business. Tiny one. I saw him twice only, and you know how it finished.”

“Tell us more.” The bartender encouraged the other man. “It’s been a while since your last fantasy about some guy.”

Kibum took another sip before he gave in to his friendly audience and started telling how he had discovered the subway singer by chance, the day before. He wasn’t the kind to be shy about his feelings and emotions, he had no problem sharing with his friends how mesmerised the stranger’s voice had left him and how handsome the guy was. He confessed his last minute plan and how it got quite shattered not long ago.

“Wait, you were about to propose a performance night in my bar to a random guy ?” His best friend frowned as the shaker stopped moving in his hands. “You got to be kidding me.”

“I wasn’t going to propose him, only ask if it was something that could interest him.” The brunette retorted. “I would have talked about it with you afterwards.”

“You know I can’t welcome any artist like that here, there’s paperwork and all that stuff… and I already have Jinki and Taemin planned for the next two Wednesdays.”

“Trust me, if you hear that guy, you’ll pay him twice your price to sing on your stage. But he didn’t let me finish anyway so you’re safe.”

“That’s too bad…” Taemin commented. “Maybe a new face would have given the Blue Night some new lease of life. I mean, I love singing here and I’m sure Jinki hyung does too, but if Kibum hyung himself sees potential in someone else… would have been interesting to give it a try.”

“I’m not having doubts on it, it’s just something that can’t be planned in the blink of an eye.”

“Can’t you do something ?” Jinki asked his boyfriend, looking at him. “I’ve rarely seen Bum like this, the guy must be interesting.”

“Hey, I’m his best friend but that doesn’t mean I have to give free access to my business to some guy, just because he fancies him !”

“Come on, Minho. He barely asks you things.”

The tall man was alone against the world, even Taemin was staring at him and trying to convince him with his eyes. Sometimes he hated when these two were taking Kibum’s side, because he could hardly resist them when they made a stand. He was still pondering the issue when his best friend handed him his empty glass, clearly asking for more.

“Oh Lord.” Minho sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, just send me some video of that guy and I’ll see what I can do. Now stop dramatising, that was your first and last mix of the night.”

“You’re the best best friend one can dream of.” Kibum smiled. “Now shut up and fill that glass.”

to be continued.

#jongkey #jonghyun #key #kibum #shinee #music #singing in the subway #live entertainment bar #onho #multi shot

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