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soluversworld · 8 days ago

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MISTER x SHOUJO - Subaru Oogami x G.N Reader part 1!

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!

Words: 16000

Genre: G.N Reader (Fluff, Angst!)

Summary: You and Geo navigate an unconventional relationship built on misunderstanding, tension, and unexpected moments of connection. After a lie spirals out of control, rumors spread that Geo is your boyfriend, much to the confusion of everyone around you—including Geo himself. Despite his cold and hostile demeanor, Geo reluctantly agrees to play along, but only for his own peace and solitude.

Geo’s sharp, broody personality often leaves you feeling uncertain and overwhelmed. He doesn’t hesitate to criticize you, flick your forehead when you talk back, or scold you for minor mistakes. Yet, he also protects you, whether from prying classmates or persistent admirers, and even takes your hand to make a show of your “relationship” when his friends are watching.

( Reader is a g.n!)-

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of

Tension-filled dynamics with elements of power imbalance and verbal hostility’s

Rumors and social pressures leading to feelings of alienation and discomfort.

Physical gestures of dominance (e.g., flicking foreheads, pinching).

Underlying themes of unresolved trauma and complex family dynamics

Solivan Brugmanisa

Violence, Blood

EXTRA: He’s a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, Been reading a lot of Shoujo mangas why not! Make Geo and reader in such a simple plot!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SUBARU OOGAMI!! 15K SPECIAL FOR MY BOY

In the daytime, you’re Y/n Brugmansia.

Just a normal person living an ordinary life—or so everyone thinks. Because there’s something about you that no one knows yet.

You have a secret.

Your brother is a stalker.

Yes, your brother. Your blood, your family, the one person who’s supposed to have your back. Instead, he’s an emo, obsessive creep with a fixation that makes your skin crawl. The kind of guy who lurks in the shadows, watching, scheming.

But this isn’t just about him. No, your life was thrown into chaos the moment you set foot in that school.

The Hierarchy.

You weren’t supposed to be there. It was a place for the elite, for the kids whose families could pay their way to success. For you, though? It was your scholarship that got you in—a ticket earned with late nights and relentless effort. While others coasted on their wealth, you clawed your way up with sheer determination.

But this place? It doesn’t care about how hard you worked. They only value your worth—the kind that comes with a price tag. If you can’t keep up, you’ll be discarded, just like the others before you.

You’ve heard the stories.

Students who didn’t meet the school’s impossible standards, quietly shuffled to the “other building.” The one for failures. The ones who didn’t fit the image of perfection. A few were expelled altogether, their names erased from the records like they’d never existed.

The students here don’t like you either. You’re an outsider, after all. Not one of them. Surviving without being bullied or set up for things you didn’t do? That’s a challenge in itself. And every misstep feels like a calculated attempt to push you out.

Then there’s your brother.

You don’t live with him anymore—you couldn’t bear it. Not after what he’s become. He’s obsessed, twisted, a shell of the person you once knew. The kind of person who might even hurt you if it came down to it.

And yet, a small part of you wonders: does he care?

The thought of it makes you feel… something. Hope? Comfort? You’re not sure if it’s worth the cost.

But it’s not just him.

You still have Hyugo. Your childhood friend. And Subaru—though you hesitate to call him that anymore. You three used to be close, inseparable even. But that closeness shattered the day something happened.

Subaru changed.

He stopped talking to you, his warmth replaced with an icy indifference. The sweet, playful boy you knew became someone cold, sharp, and unrecognizable.

You don’t know if you’ll ever fix what’s broken.

And honestly, you’re not sure if this place will let you try.

It has been years since you seen him…

You’ve tried to explain it once.

The exhaustion, the loneliness, the way it eats away at you day by day. How studying and living alone isn’t glamorous or freeing—it’s a slow grind, a life that wears you down until you’re nothing but raw nerves and a hollowed-out shell.

But no one really gets it.

They see your grades, your hard-earned scholarship, and think you’ve got it all together. They don’t see the hours you spend hunched over textbooks, eyes burning under the dim glow of your desk lamp. They don’t see the pile of instant noodle cups next to your trash can because cooking is too much work when you’ve been running on fumes for days.

You’ve told yourself it’s fine. That it’s temporary. That sacrificing your health, your happiness, is just part of the process. But some nights, when the silence of your apartment becomes unbearable, you wonder if this is all life will ever be.

Unhealthy. Unhappy. Alone.

It wasn’t always like this. You remember what it was like to have a family. A real family. Before things fell apart. Before your brother became… well, him.

But now, it’s just you.

You wake up every morning in the same cramped room, surrounded by the same cheap furniture you’ve been dragging from one place to the next. You work hard. You study harder. But no matter how much effort you put in, it never feels like enough.

There’s always another exam to ace, another essay to write, another hurdle to jump over just to prove you belong.

Belong where, though?

This school? These people? The ones who sneer at you in the hallways and whisper behind your back? The ones who’ll never see you as one of them because you don’t come from money, because you don’t have their polished, picture-perfect lives?

You’re surviving on scraps. Scraps of energy, scraps of time, scraps of whatever you can salvage from the wreckage of your days. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to sit down and eat a proper meal. To relax without guilt clawing at the back of your mind.

Even sleep feels like a luxury now.

Some nights, you lie awake staring at the ceiling, your chest tight with thoughts you can’t shake off. You wonder what your life would be like if you weren’t so alone.

If you had someone—anyone—to share the burden with.

But then you remind yourself why you’ve done this. Why you left. Why you worked so hard to distance yourself from your brother, from everything he’s become.

You hated what he turned into.

The obsession, the darkness, the way he seemed to spiral further and further into madness with every passing day. You told yourself you couldn’t live like that. That you wouldn’t let him drag you down with him.

But even now, you can’t stop thinking about him.

Because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, he’s still your brother. The same boy who used to pull you out of bad dreams and promise to protect you from everything scary in the world.

What changed? When did everything fall apart?

You hate him. You miss him. You hate that you miss him.

And then there’s Subaru.

Once upon a time, you thought you understood him. Thought the two of you were inseparable, that nothing could ever come between you.

But now, every interaction with him feels like walking on shards of glass. He’s distant, cold, like he doesn’t care anymore. Like you’re just another face in the crowd.

And maybe that’s what you are now.

Just another face, another name, another person struggling to stay afloat in a world that doesn’t care if you sink.

But even as these thoughts weigh on you, you refuse to give up.

Because giving up isn’t an option.

Not for you.

You’ve worked too hard, sacrificed too much to let it all go to waste now. Even if it means eating nothing but instant noodles for another month. Even if it means enduring the whispers and the stares, the isolation and the exhaustion.

You’ll keep going.

Because at the end of the day, this is all you have.

Your work. Your drive. The dream of something better waiting for you on the other side of all this.

And if you have to face it alone?

So be it.

You’ve been alone before. You’ll survive. You always do.

That day came.

The day when you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You’d had enough. The isolation. The pressure. The constant fight to keep up with everything and everyone. It was suffocating, like you were being dragged under by a tide you couldn’t control. And in the midst of it all, there he was.

Hyugo.

You hadn’t seen him in so long, but there he was, standing before you on the crowded street, his gaze soft as he noticed you.

“Y/n… is that you?” His voice was gentle, as if he’d just stepped out of a dream.

You froze, your chest tightening. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to run, to pretend like everything was fine, but you couldn’t. Not anymore.

Before you even realized what was happening, the dam broke.

You nearly crumpled right in front of him. Your throat burned with the emotion you’d kept bottled up for so long—anger, sadness, frustration—and it all poured out at once. You didn’t want him to see you like this, to witness your weakness. But it was too late. The tears came anyway.

Hyugo must’ve seen the pain in your eyes, because without a word, he pulled you gently into a nearby cafe.

The warmth of the room felt almost suffocating, but the air was filled with the rich scent of coffee, a distraction from the storm inside you. You sat down across from him, your hands trembling as you gripped the coffee cup, trying to steady yourself.

Before you could say anything, Hyugo spoke, his voice calm but observant. “Your eyes… they’re almost like Sol’s.”

The mention of Sol’s name struck you like a lightning bolt, but instead of reacting, you clung to the cup harder. You didn’t want to hear his name. You didn’t want to think about him.

“I… I hate him,” you managed to choke out, voice breaking. “I hate what he’s become.”

Hyugo watched you carefully, as if weighing his next words, before asking softly, “What about your studies? How’s everything going?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the question almost unbearable. You had been running from the truth for so long, but you couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore.

“It’s fine,” you said, though the words felt like they were scraping against your throat.

Hyugo didn’t believe you. You could see it in the way his brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing with concern. “No, it’s not. You almost broke the glass just holding that cup. Y/n, what’s going on?”

The words were like a trigger, and suddenly you couldn’t hold back. The tears spilled over as you let out a shaky breath. “They’re tormenting me, Hyugo. They blame me for things I didn’t do. They keep talking… rubbish, nonsense, and I just—I just want it to stop!” Your voice cracked with the weight of everything you’d been bottling up. “I wish they’d all just… die!”

The anger surged inside you, but it was swallowed by the crushing despair. You gripped the cup even harder, your knuckles white, trying to contain the flood of emotion that threatened to tear you apart.

“Why… why do you even support him? Why do you care about my brother? He’s insane, Hyugo! He’s delusional!” The words came out like a scream, as if you were pleading for him to understand. “Why do you support him like a… like a mother?! Why do you even put up with his bullshit?”

Hyugo’s face softened, and he leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “Even if he does… things… even if he’s lost himself, I still care about him. And you, Y/n. I care about you, too.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, your chest tight, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

“I need to go,” you muttered, standing abruptly from the table, your chair screeching against the floor. Hyugo looked at you with concern, his hand twitching as if to stop you, but he didn’t.

“Go where?” he asked, his voice steady but questioning.

“Home,” you replied, your tone clipped. “The goons… they’ll be waiting. Around 7 p.m., maybe earlier if I’m unlucky. I need to escape before they find me. I can’t—” Your words were sharp, urgent, spilling out faster than you intended.

Hyugo’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/n, you can’t keep running like this.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. There was no point in explaining further. You grabbed your bag and left the cafe without another word, your mind racing as you hurried down the street. The world outside was darker than you expected, the evening chill cutting through your jacket as you quickened your pace.

Every shadow felt alive, every movement in your peripheral vision like a threat waiting to pounce.

The next day came like a blur.

You didn’t get much sleep—if any at all—but you forced yourself to get up and go to class. As you walked into the building, something felt… off. The air was heavier, charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

You pushed open the classroom door, and that’s when you noticed it.

Everyone was looking at you.

Not the usual stares of indifference or mild disdain. These looks were different—wide eyes, hushed whispers, the faint rustle of papers as students leaned toward each other to mutter under their breath.

Disgusted. Scared.

The rich kids, the goons who never paid you any mind, suddenly couldn’t seem to look away. Their sneers were gone, replaced by something that almost resembled unease.

You froze for a moment, the weight of their gazes pressing down on you like a physical force. Then, forcing yourself to keep moving, you headed toward your usual seat at the back of the class.

The kid who usually sat there, slouched and half-asleep, glanced at you briefly before muttering something under his breath and moving to another seat.

Fine. You didn’t care.

You sat down, pulling out your books and pretending to read. But you could feel it—their eyes on you. Every single one of them.

Your throat tightened as you flipped through the pages, the words blurring together into meaningless lines. You couldn’t focus. You couldn’t think.

What the hell was going on?

You stayed quiet, trying to shrink into yourself, but it didn’t help. The whispers grew louder, the stares more pointed. Some students didn’t even bother to hide it, their eyes burning holes into you as if you were something they couldn’t comprehend.

It didn’t make sense. Yesterday, they hated you because you were poor, because you didn’t belong here. But now?

Now, they looked at you like you were something to be afraid of.

You gripped the edge of your desk, your knuckles turning white as you fought the urge to scream. To demand an explanation. To tell them to stop.

But you didn’t.

You sat there in silence, the noise around you growing louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

And you didn’t u

The tension in the room reached its peak when the teacher walked in. You were too distracted by the whispers, the stares, and the suffocating atmosphere to notice her at first. But her sudden gasp caught your attention.

She froze, staring at you as if she’d seen a ghost. Her face paled, and for a moment, she didn’t speak, her lips parting and closing as though she was struggling to find words.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “They didn’t inform you?”

You blinked, confused. “Inform me about what?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she moved quickly toward you, grabbing your arm—not harshly, but urgently. Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled you out of your seat. “Come with me. Now.”

The whispers grew louder as she dragged you through the room, her pace brisk, her movements almost frantic. You looked back at the other students, their eyes glued to you, their hushed voices cutting through the silence like knives.

And then you heard it.

“…their brother hurt them so much…”

Your breath hitched. Your brother? What were they talking about?

“What do you mean?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

But the teacher didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at you as she led you through the hallway, her grip on your arm tightening.

Your heart raced. The whispers, the stares, the fear—it all felt like it was closing in on you.

She stopped abruptly in front of the principal’s office, knocking quickly before opening the door and ushering you inside.

The principal was seated at his desk, his face pale, his hands clasped together tightly as if trying to steady himself. When he saw you, his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear crossing his features before he masked it with a forced calm.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of him.

You sat down, your mind racing, your hands trembling slightly as you gripped the edges of the chair.

The principal took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly. “Y/n… have you been having trouble with goons recently?”

You blinked, startled by the question. “Yes,” you replied cautiously. “But… what does that have to do with anything? What’s going on?”

The principal hesitated, his gaze darting to the teacher, who stood by the door, wringing her hands nervously. He looked back at you, his voice low, almost trembling.

“If you knew someone with… powerful connections, you should have told us. Things like this could’ve been avoided.”

“What things?” you snapped, frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface. “What happened?”

The principal’s eyes widened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of his desk.

“You don’t know?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No!” you shouted, your voice cracking. “I don’t know anything! What is going on?”

He stared at you, his expression a mix of fear and disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend how you were so unaware of whatever had happened.

The principal’s voice was sharp, accusatory, as if every word he spat at you was a bullet meant to tear you down.

“That family’s worker—their enforcer or bodyguard, whatever they are—beat up the goons who were after you. The students too, the ones who even stood nearby! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Your breath hitched. “What—what did I do?”

“What did you do?!” he repeated, his face twisting with rage. “You ruined their lives, that’s what! Those students? Their limbs are broken, their reputations in tatters! Why didn’t you just keep quiet?!”

“I didn’t—” you stammered, your voice shaking. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t ask for—”

“Quiet!” he roared, slamming his hand on the desk, making you flinch. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused? The parents of those students—they’ve stopped funding the school! Their kids are worth more than you will ever be!”

The words stung, each one sharper than the last, but your mind was too clouded to process them fully. The room felt like it was spinning, your heart pounding in your chest as his words echoed around you.

“Those broken limbs…” he continued, his voice lower now, dripping with venom. “Someone from that family family—took it upon themselves to send a message. You should have kept your head down. Instead, this happened.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Broken limbs.

You didn’t need to hear more. Your mind raced, and for a moment, everything around you faded into the background.

The image came to you unbidden.

The night before. The goons—waiting in the alleyways, lurking in the shadows. And then… him.

A man, cloaked in a dark hoodie, his face obscured by a mask but his presence unmistakable. His crimson eyes gleamed like blood in the dim light, his black hair catching the faint glow of the streetlamps.

The goons, cocky and loud, sneered at him.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of them snarled, stepping forward.

The man didn’t answer. He simply tilted his head slightly, his crimson gaze locking onto the speaker.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” the goon barked, stepping closer, his hand reaching for the weapon at his side.

That’s when one of them recognized him.

“Wait… isn’t that—”

But it was too late.

The man moved with inhuman speed, his strikes precise and brutal. The first goon went down before he even had a chance to react, his weapon clattering to the ground as he crumpled, clutching his shattered arm.

The others charged at him, shouting obscenities, but it was futile. The man was a whirlwind of destruction, his movements fluid and calculated. Each punch, each kick, was delivered with devastating accuracy, bones cracking under his blows.

It wasn’t a fight—it was a massacre.

And when it was over, the goons lay sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

The man stood over them, his breathing steady, his crimson eyes cold and unfeeling. Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only chaos and broken bodies.

Your stomach twisted as the scene played out in your mind.

It wasn’t the family’s worker.

It was him.

Your brother.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you stared at the principal, who was still fuming, his voice rising once again.

“And now—now you’re telling me you didn’t know? You didn’t think this would happen?! You’re a liability! We can’t have you here anymore. You’re being moved to the other building—”

“What?!” you cut him off, your voice rising with panic. “No! I worked hard to get here! You can’t just—”

“I can and I will!” he snapped, slamming his hand on the desk again. “If you’d kept your mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened. But no, you just had to—”

“Had to what?” you interrupted, your voice cold now, cutting through his tirade. “Had to exist? Had to study hard and not depend on anyone? Is that it?”

The principal glared at you, his face twisted with frustration and fear.

“You should’ve been quiet!” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “Because of you, because of your connections, those students—those valuable students—are ruined! Their parents have pulled their funding! They’re worth more to this school than your… your—”

“Garbage,” you said, cutting him off again, your voice steady and ice-cold. “No matter how much garbage you collect, it’s still garbage. Just like those idiots who got beat up.”

The principal’s face turned an alarming shade of red, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for a response. But you didn’t wait for him to find his words.

The principal’s voice boomed, his face a mix of frustration and fear.

“You’re expelled from this building! Effective immediately, you’ll be transferred to the other one!”

You blinked, the words hanging in the air. For a second, your chest tightened, and you almost felt like crying—but then, inexplicably, a smile stretched across your lips. It wasn’t happiness, not really. It was a strange mix of bitterness, relief, and vindication, all bundled into one small, defiant smirk.

“Maybe this isn’t the place for me,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with a subtle edge. “Maybe it never was.”

The principal’s face turned red with rage, but you didn’t stick around to hear whatever rant he had brewing. You turned on your heel and walked out of the office, your head held high.

Whispers erupted around you the moment you stepped into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking at the students lining the lockers, their wide eyes and hushed voices buzzing like bees in your ears. You were done with their judgment. Done with their stares. Done with this.

Two days. That was how long you had before your official transfer to the other building.

Your locker greeted you with its usual dull metallic clang as you opened it, shoving your books into your bag with slow, deliberate movements. The weight of your situation pressed down on you, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely powerless.

Why?

Your mind flashed back to the incident—the broken limbs, the terrified whispers, the way the principal’s voice shook when he accused you of “ruining” those students’ lives. It wasn’t fear that gave you confidence. No. It was something else.

Was it him?

The thought of your brother filled you with conflicting emotions. Rage. Confusion. Maybe even the faintest trace of… gratitude?

You laughed quietly to yourself, the sound sharp and bitter. “Why the hell would that idiot’s actions make me feel safe?” you muttered, slamming your locker shut.

Still, deep down, you knew the truth. For all his faults—and there were plenty—he had your back.

Later that evening, you returned to your tiny apartment, hoping for a moment of peace to sort through your chaotic thoughts. But instead, you found your belongings scattered across the pavement outside.

“What the hell…?”

Your landlord stood in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring at you with pure disdain.

“You’re out,” he said bluntly.

“What?!” you snapped, storming up to him. “What are you talking about? I’ve always paid my rent on time—”

“Don’t care!” he barked, stepping forward and shoving you back before you could argue further. “You and your connections aren’t welcome here anymore. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble?!” Your voice cracked with anger and disbelief. “What trouble?! I don’t even have connections!”

But he slammed the door in your face, leaving you standing there, stunned and furious.

You stared at your scattered belongings, your chest heaving with frustration. The weight of everything—the expulsion, the stares, the whispers, and now this—felt like it was crushing you. Your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill, but you refused to let them fall.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to see Hyugo and Sol standing a few feet away.

Hyugo looked at you with an apologetic frown, his hands shoved into his pockets. Sol, on the other hand, was a mess. His hoodie was torn, his knuckles were bandaged, and bruises bloomed across his face. His crimson eyes were sharp and piercing, but there was something in them—something tired.

“Hyugo,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

Hyugo crouched down beside you, his expression soft and filled with regret. “I didn’t think it would go this far. I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “For helping with the goons.”

Hyugo shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Thank Sol.”

Your gaze flicked to your brother, who stood silently, his crimson eyes boring into you.

“There’s no need for thanks,” Sol said, his voice flat and cold.

You didn’t know what to say.

But before you could think of a response, Sol broke the silence. “You have nowhere to go now.”

Your stomach dropped.

“So move in with me,” he said.

You blinked, stunned. “What? No! Absolutely not!”

Sol raised an eyebrow, his expression completely unimpressed. “You don’t really have a choice.”

“I do have a choice,” you snapped, standing up to face him. “And I’d rather be homeless than live with you!”

Sol didn’t respond. He simply crouched down and started gathering your belongings, completely ignoring your protests.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” you demanded, panic rising in your voice.

“Taking your things home,” he said calmly, not even looking at you.

“Home?!”

“Yes. Home. My apartment. Two rooms. Small but functional.”

You clenched your fists, your frustration bubbling over. “I don’t need your help!”

“Too bad,” he replied bluntly, standing up with your bag slung over his shoulder.

You glared at him, your voice trembling with anger. “I don’t even have anything worth taking! Just clothes and—”

“And cheap junk?” Sol cut in, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.

Your face burned with embarrassment as you looked away. “Don’t judge me. I’m broke.”

For a moment, he was silent. Then, to your surprise, his voice softened—just barely.

“I’m not judging you,” he said, his tone unreadable.

You stared at him, taken aback. Sol was always cold, distant, impossible to read. But now, for the first time, you saw something in his eyes—something faint and fleeting, but undeniably there.

Understanding.

You threw your hands in the air, frustration bubbling over as you glared at Sol. “What the hell even are you?!” Your voice cracked, half from anger, half from the strain of everything that had happened. “I’ll never talk to you again. Not after this. Not after—whatever the fuck this is!”

Sol stood still, his crimson eyes fixed on you. For a moment, you thought he might lash out or bark back, but instead, his gaze softened.

“I regret a lot of things in life,” he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “But this… what I am, what I’ve done—it is what it is.”

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. There was no malice in his tone, no defiance. Just a quiet, resigned sadness.

Sol turned his gaze to the ground, his expression distant. “After this year, you can move out. You don’t have to stay with me any longer than that. This is just for now—for you to stay safe. It’s the least I can do.”

His words hung in the air like a weight you couldn’t shake.

“And after that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at you, his crimson eyes duller than you’d ever seen them. “After that,” he said softly, “I’ll disappear. I’ll stay in the shadows, far away from you. You can hate me all you want. I’ll carry that, too.”

For a moment, you were frozen. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, to break down and cry all at once—but you didn’t.

Instead, you stood there, silent and broken, unable to find the words.

It took time—time you didn’t want to admit you needed—but eventually, you moved in with him.

The apartment was small, just like Sol had said. Two rooms, clean, minimalistic. It was nothing like the chaotic mess of your old place, where everything was a constant reminder of your struggles. Here, it felt… oddly peaceful.

Sol didn’t talk much, and you didn’t ask questions. It was easier that way. The tension between you was always there, simmering under the surface, but he never pushed.

What surprised you the most, though, was how much he did for you.

Every morning, without fail, there was a freshly prepared bento waiting on the kitchen counter. Carefully packed rice, vegetables, protein—a far cry from the instant noodles and junk food you’d lived on before.

At first, you wanted to refuse, to push it all away out of spite. But your stomach betrayed you, and after the first bite, you couldn’t stop. It was so much better than anything you’d had in ages.

You hated how much you appreciated it.

Still, you didn’t say thank you. You couldn’t.

Life slowly began to find its rhythm. The new building accepted you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could study without constant fear or harassment. The weight of the goons, the whispers, and the stares had lifted.

You focused on your classes, determined to finish your degree and leave everything behind.

Sol stayed out of your way for the most part, true to his word. He didn’t ask about your day or pry into your life. He just… existed in the background. A quiet presence that you couldn’t quite ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

One evening, as you sat at the small dining table, absently picking at your food, you overheard something that caught you off guard.

It was a phone call—Sol’s voice, low and muffled through the thin walls of the apartment.

“She’s fine,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft. “No, I don’t need anything. Just take care of yourself, alright?”

You froze, your chopsticks hovering mid-air.

A few minutes later, Sol walked out of his room, his expression unreadable as always.

“You…” You hesitated, unsure if you even wanted to know. “You’ve been seeing someone?”

He stopped, blinking at you in surprise. For the first time in a while, you caught a glimpse of something almost human in his crimson eyes—something vulnerable.

“It’s not important,” he said curtly, brushing past you and heading to the kitchen.

You didn’t press. If he wanted to keep his secrets, that was fine. It wasn’t your business anyway.

You still weren’t sure how you felt about living with Sol. Sometimes, the weight of his presence was suffocating. Other times, it was strangely comforting.

What you did know was that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.

The new building was peaceful. Your studies were going well. And for all the chaos and pain that had led you here, you were starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—you could finish your degree and move on with your life.

For now, that was enough.

The students, for the most part, weren’t as cruel as those from the first one. There were no constant whispers or mocking glances. No one actively sought to tear you down. In fact, for the first time in a while, you felt like you were fitting in.

It didn’t hurt that you made a couple of friends, too.

Crowe, a student council member, was probably the most surprising of them all. At first, you thought he was just another stuck-up overachiever, someone who only cared about his grades and keeping up appearances. But to your shock, Crowe was kind, understanding, and remarkably down-to-earth. He made an effort to include you in group activities, always looking out for you when you felt like you were on the edge.

Then there was Brittney, a gyaru girl with blonde hair and a look that screamed “don’t mess with me” in the best way possible. You’d seen her walking around with her friends, looking like she owned the world, but once you got to know her, she was actually one of the nicest people you’d met in a long time.

Life wasn’t perfect, but it was better. You could breathe easier here.

Until, of course, some shitheads from the other building decided to ruin it all.

You had heard the rumors. The students from the first building still had their eyes on you, and not in a good way. They’d been whispering behind your back, mocking you, probably spreading lies about you. You’d thought you could leave all that behind when you transferred, but it seemed that the hatred for your last name followed you wherever you went.

One afternoon, while you were walking to class, a group of them cornered you in the hallway. They wore smug smiles, leaning in closer as you tried to brush past them.

“Well, well, if it isn’t her,” one of them sneered, a girl with jet-black hair and a silver stud in her nose. “How’s life in the new building? Not as glamorous as you thought, huh?”

You kept your head down, walking faster, but they followed you.

Another student, a lanky guy with glasses, laughed loudly. “What’s the matter? Afraid to talk to us? Or are you just embarrassed to be here?”

The insults kept coming, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You could feel your patience slipping away. They thought they had power over you. They thought they could just keep pushing you around because of your name, your past, your connection to your brother.

But no more.

You turned to face them, your voice low and controlled but full of authority. “Enough,” you snapped, eyes flashing with a fire that even you hadn’t realized was there.

One of the girls laughed, clearly trying to push your buttons. “What’s the matter, princess? Can’t handle the truth?”

You stood up straighter, meeting her gaze with cold, unflinching eyes. “You want to know the truth?” you said, your voice dripping with disdain. “My boyfriend won’t tolerate this. He’s not going to let you get away with this. He’s already made it clear he doesn’t like people messing with me.”

The group of them paused for a moment, clearly surprised by your sudden shift in demeanor. Then, one of the guys—a taller, muscular dude with a tattoo on his neck—sneered at you. “Oh, you’ve got a boyfriend? Who would want someone like you?”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you gave them a sharp smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “He’s busy. But if you really want to meet him, I can show you a picture.”

The group of them exchanged glances, clearly amused by the idea that someone like you could have a boyfriend.

“Well, then,” the girl with the silver nose stud said with a smirk, “show us. I dare you.”

You kept your gaze steady, knowing exactly what you were doing. You pulled out your phone, holding it up in front of you like a weapon. “Fine. Two days,” you said, your voice cool and confident. “I’ll show you a picture. You’ve got two days to get off my back, or I’ll make sure he pays a visit here. You won’t like it if you push him too far.”

The group laughed, thinking it was all a joke, but you could see the doubt creeping into their eyes. They hadn’t expected you to fight back.

“Alright, we’ll give you two days,” the guy said, clearly eager to get away. “But don’t try to back out. We’ll be expecting that photo.”

With that, they all dispersed, leaving you standing in the hallway, your heart racing but your face betraying no emotion.

You let out a sigh, leaning against the wall. You hadn’t expected to be so forceful, but it felt good to finally stand up for yourself. Even if it was a lie.

But now, you had a problem. You didn’t have a boyfriend. And if you didn’t show them a photo in two days, they’d be all over you like a swarm of angry bees.

You cursed under your breath, pulling your phone back into your pocket. What had you gotten yourself into?

You sat in the back of the classroom the next day, trying to focus on the lecture, but your mind was elsewhere. You could feel the eyes of the other students on you, some out of curiosity, others out of contempt. It was no different than before—except now, it wasn’t just because of your last name.

You were being mocked,

You tried to ignore the whispers, you glanced over at Crowe, who was sitting a few seats away, scribbling notes in his notebook. Brittney was next to him, chatting quietly with some other students, her usual carefree attitude making you feel slightly more at ease.

But the peace didn’t last long. The students who had mocked you the day before were back at it, making sure to keep their voices loud enough for you to hear.

You tried to block them out, but it was impossible.

And then, a strange thing happened.

Brittney turned to you, her face unreadable. “Don’t let them get to you,” she whispered, her eyes serious. “You’re not alone.”

It felt like a small comfort, and for the first time, you felt like maybe you could make it through this.

Two days.

You could figure something out in two days. You had to.

The door clicked shut behind you, the familiar sound echoing through the small apartment. You sighed, your shoulders sinking in relief, glad to be home after another exhausting day of pretending everything was fine.

But, of course, it wasn’t.

Sol was already there when you walked in, sitting on the couch with his phone in his hands. His voice was light, like he was chatting with someone and clearly enjoying himself. It was almost sickening, how happy he sounded.

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze narrowing. What was it that had him so cheerful today? You’d never seen him like this, not even when he got good grades or when he finally kicked his bad habits. He wasn’t even looking at you; his attention was fixed entirely on the screen, his voice soft and relaxed.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual as you dropped your bag by the door, “who are you talking to?”

He glanced up at you, his smile widening just a little, before turning his attention back to the phone. “Oh, just my lover,” he said with a weirdly creepy grin plastered on his face.

Your eyebrows shot up. Lover? What the hell? He was still going on about it, his voice practically dripping with giddiness. He’s like a puppy “I can’t get enough of them. we’re meant to be together.”

You froze, your eyes going wide. What the actual fuck? He wasn’t just casually talking to someone—he was head over heels. And you had to sit there and listen to it? You couldn’t believe it.

Meanwhile, you had been completely oblivious. All this time, you’d been drowning in your studies and dealing with the goons and everything else that kept you on edge. You hadn’t even thought about relationships, hadn’t even considered love as part of your life. It was just… forgotten. You had nothing.

And now, Sol—Sol—had someone.

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach, and you couldn’t hold back the bitterness that bubbled up. You stared at him like he was the world’s biggest idiot, feeling your jaw clench. What the hell was wrong with you?

You didn’t even know why it stung so much. Maybe it was because you had never realized how important love was until now. Maybe it was because, for once, you wanted to experience that kind of happiness, that kind of connection with someone. Maybe it was because the one person who you thought was stuck in the same mess as you was already way ahead of you.

Shit.

“How was your day?” Sol asked, his voice almost too soft as he glanced up from his phone for a moment.

For a split second, you wanted to tell him everything, to unload your frustrations, your anger at the goons, the way they tormented you, how you were faking everything just to get through the day. You could have told him about the lies, about how you had to lie about having a boyfriend to shut them up. You could have shared all of it.

But no.

You couldn’t let him know. You wouldn’t. Not after seeing how genuinely happy he was. You couldn’t let your mess affect his life.

So you smiled, fake as it was, and answered. “I spent time with my boyfriend.”

Sol blinked, looking confused for a second. He raised an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend?”

You instantly regretted saying it. You weren’t sure why you said it, but you couldn’t take it back now. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “My boyfriend. I just… I spent time with him. That’s it.”

There was a beat of silence as Sol stared at you. His eyes seemed darker now, suspicious even. You could see the gears turning in his mind. “Wait, what?” He put his phone down slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Who is this guy? How long have you been together?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Why was he asking so many questions? Why did it matter to him?

You felt your pride kick in. You had to keep up the act. You had to show him that you weren’t some loser, stuck in a miserable existence. “It’s none of your business, Sol,” you snapped, irritation creeping into your voice. “Just drop it.”

But he wasn’t letting it go. He tilted his head slightly, eyes still locked on you with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. “I’m just trying to be a good brother here,” he said quietly, but the words were heavy. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!” you shot back, then immediately regretted it. Your words came out too sharp, too defensive.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly frustrated. “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything. But if you need someone to talk to—”

“No!” you cut him off, more forcefully this time. “Just… just leave me alone, alright?”

Sol blinked at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you thought you saw something soft in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly before picking up his phone again, his voice more distant than before. “Fine. then.”

You shot him a glare, already heading toward your room. “Whatever.”

But as you reached the door, he called out to you again. “Hey.”

You didn’t turn around.

“I know you think you have to keep things from me,” he said quietly. “But I’m still your brother, okay? Even if you hate me.”

You didn’t respond, just stepped into your room and slammed the door behind you.

But as the silence settled, your mind wandered back to the lie you told. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the emptiness that still lingered in your chest. Your life had become so focused on surviving, on studying, on dealing with the shit that kept piling on top of you, that you forgot about the things that truly mattered.

You’d built walls so high around yourself that even the smallest glimpse of happiness felt out of reach.

You sat down on the bed, head in your hands, overwhelmed by it all. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be normal?

The night passed quietly, the silence of the apartment settling heavily around you as you drifted to sleep. Your thoughts were a swirling mess of frustration, loneliness, and regret. You tossed and turned, unable to quiet the storm in your head.

The scene shifted.

At the same time, across town, the conversation was unfolding in a cozy corner of a cafe where you wouldn’t be, but where the people you’d come to know were. The three of them sat together, sipping their drinks, their chatter light despite the weighty topics that had been hanging around you.

Brittney, Jess, and Crowe were in the midst of a rare quiet moment, their usual teasing and laughter taking a backseat to something more serious.

“I just don’t get it,” Crowe was saying, his voice low, almost like he was trying to make sense of something he couldn’t fully comprehend. “You know, they’ve been through so much. It’s like… their whole life’s been one disaster after another.”

Jess nodded, her face thoughtful. “I feel it too,” she said softly, her voice tinged with empathy. “They’re like a walking storm cloud, always pushing people away without meaning to. It’s hard to watch someone live like that.”

Brittney, who had always been more outspoken, tilted her head, frowning. “They’re just so… nice, y’know? They’re really relatable in a way. Like, it’s easy to see why they’ve been through so much. But they hide it so well. I respect that.”

Crowe smiled at Brittney’s words, his gaze softening. “You’ve made a new friend, huh?” he teased, leaning back in his chair.

Brittney shot him an unimpressed look, her eyes rolling. “Don’t act like it’s hard for me to make friends, Crowe. I’m not that bad,” she said, a half-smirk on her face.

Jess chuckled at the playful exchange but then grew serious again. “But, seriously, you guys think they’ll ever fit in here? I mean, meeting Deryl is one thing, but how will Geo feel about them joining the group? You know how he is with… new people.”

Crowe’s expression hardened slightly, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Geo’s a problem. If they can’t handle him, this whole thing’s gonna blow up. But… I think he’d accept them, eventually. I hope.”

Brittney leaned back, her lips curling slightly as she pondered the idea. “Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t scare them off,” she muttered. “Because with the way they’ve been acting, I don’t think they’re in the mood for more drama.”

There was a heavy silence between them, the weight of the conversation pressing down on all of them. They had seen glimpses of the life you led—your struggles, your isolation, and the way you tried to hide it behind a wall of sarcasm and forced smiles. And despite their differences, despite their own challenges, they understood you in a way most didn’t.

And just as the silence grew uncomfortable, Crowe broke it again, his voice quieter this time, a little more thoughtful. “We’ll see. I think, in their own way, they’re starting to open up. But… we all need to be patient with them.”

They all exchanged glances, unsure of where this new chapter would lead. Would you really fit in with them, or would the weight of your past hold you back from finally connecting with people who genuinely wanted to be your friends?

Only time would tell.

You woke up on Sunday feeling oddly restless, your thoughts swirling. You needed to do something about that “boyfriend” situation. You could ask Hyugo for help, but a tiny voice in your head told you that would be a huge mistake. You didn’t need his involvement—not now. What you really needed was someone like Sol, someone intimidating and powerful who could send a message. Someone who made others back off without lifting a finger. But finding someone like that wasn’t going to be easy.

You walked, your mind raced through all the possibilities. Could you find someone who matched that terrifying energy? Who could fill the role without looking like a total joke?

Suddenly, a murmur caught your attention. A group of girls were talking excitedly, their words a mixture of awe and admiration. You glanced in their direction, curiosity piqued, and your gaze fell upon the source of their chatter.

There, walking casually down the street, was a man who commanded attention. His pale complexion stood out against the dull backdrop of the city, his aquamarine eyes seemingly piercing through everything in his path. His lips were fuller than usual, giving him a strikingly handsome appearance. But it wasn’t just his looks that made him stand out—it was the energy he exuded. Something about him screamed power, something that made you feel a strange flutter in your chest.

He had dark bluish-purple hair, the type that could easily be called stylish but still slightly intimidating with its bowl-cut shape. His low ponytail was tied neatly, as though he didn’t even need to try. His clothing matched his entire vibe: a dark, bluish-purple hoodie with a white turtleneck peeking out, paired with black ripped jeans that added an edge to his appearance. And the accessories—those long, rectangular block earrings in teal and white, not to mention the septum piercing—made him look like someone who didn’t care what anyone thought.

He was, in a word, perfect. He looked like the kind of guy who would make a fantastic, terrifying boyfriend. You could feel the pull, the certainty that he would be just as frightening as Sol. You took a step forward, feeling that strange urge to get closer to him, to make him yours somehow.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, your heart racing slightly. This was it. You didn’t need to talk to him, you just needed a photo, something to show the goons who had mocked you. Something to prove you had a boyfriend—someone they’d never dare question. You lined up the shot, focusing on his face, waiting for the perfect moment.

And just as you were about to snap the photo, you saw him look up. His gaze locked on yours. Time seemed to freeze for a second.

“Did you take my photo?” he asked, his voice cold, his expression unreadable.

Your heart nearly stopped. His tone was sharp, almost predatory. The way he asked it… it wasn’t just a simple question—it was a warning. His cold stare sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh no. You felt your face flush, and before you could react, he looked away. But then, just as quickly, his eyes returned to you, piercing through you with a chilling gaze.

“Did you take my photo?” he repeated, the question more threatening now.

Your mind went blank. You were trapped. You realized, in that moment, that you’d made a huge mistake. You’d done the exact thing your brother would’ve done. You’d stalked someone. You’d taken their picture without permission, without any regard for boundaries. You’d become that person—the one who couldn’t control their obsession.

Your body froze as the realization hit. “Congrats,” you thought bitterly to yourself, “You’ve just become like your brother. It’s a crime, you idiot.”

Panicking, your hands shook. The girls who’d been chatting earlier noticed the scene and started laughing. “Aww, look at there, an idiot!” one of them teased, her voice ringing out like a bell. The sting of their mockery made you want to disappear.

Your heart pounded. What had you done? This guy was terrifying. He was exactly the kind of person who could ruin your life with a single word. You stood there, paralyzed, as he looked at you with disdain, clearly not impressed by your actions.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his eyes narrowing at you. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. He took a single step toward you, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. You turned on your heel and bolted, running as fast as you could, your heart in your throat.

Your mind was a whirlwind. What the hell had just happened? You had crossed a line, and you knew it. The anxiety in your chest grew heavier with each step you took, and it wasn’t just because you had taken his photo—it was because, in some messed-up way, you kind of wanted him to catch you. But now you were scared of what might happen next.

You kept running, never looking back, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just made a terrifying mistake.

You slowed down, your feet dragging slightly as you tried to catch your breath. The adrenaline was wearing off, but your mind was still racing. You pulled your phone from your pocket, your fingers trembling as you looked at the picture you’d taken of him. The shot was perfect. He looked so intense, like a figure from your twisted fantasies. Your heart was pounding, but there was a strange sense of satisfaction building within you.

Your life won’t be hell anymore. The thought rang in your mind, though you weren’t entirely sure if you believed it. Was this really the answer? You’d gone this far, taken this huge leap, and now you couldn’t back down. You had something on them, something that would protect you, wouldn’t it?

But as you walked, you heard the unmistakable voices of the goons. You froze, the panic starting to rise again. There was no escape. No more hiding. They had found you.

“Hey,” one of the guys sneered, his eyes locking onto you. “What’s that you got there?”

You didn’t even get a chance to react before the other guy grabbed your phone from your hand, swiping it with ease. You tried to fight back, but they were too fast, too strong. Your pulse quickened, your breath shallow.

“What is this?” The first goon asked as he stared at the screen. He glanced at the picture you’d taken. “Looks like someone we know…”

The tension in the air thickened, and before you could do anything, they grabbed you. One of the goons sneered down at you. “You’ve really crossed the line this time, haven’t you?”

A rush of cold terror washed over you, and before you could get a word out, a fist collided with your face. The world spun as you crumpled to the ground, everything going black for a moment. A sharp pain shot through your skull as your vision blurred.

But then, you heard something. Voices. A scuffle. Another punch. And then, to your surprise, two men came into view, swinging at the goons who had been tormenting you. The sound of fists hitting flesh was almost deafening, but you barely registered it. Your head was still spinning from the punch. One of the goons was knocked to the side, groaning. The other barely managed to stand before another punch sent him to the ground.

The man who had delivered the blows stood tall, a dark presence looming over you. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw his face. You blinked through the fog in your vision, trying to make sense of what was happening. The man who had just taken down the goons looked familiar, his features hauntingly similar to the guy you’d just photographed.

Your breath hitched. The connection was clear now. This was him.

You had taken a picture of his face. You had made a move, and now, here he was, standing over you like some kind of dark savior, though it didn’t feel like you were in safe hands at all.

A voice cut through the haze. It was the other man— you thought his name was—asking the man if you were okay. The other voice was tentative, almost kind, though there was a nervous laugh in it.

“Don’t touch ‘em,” Geo" muttered, his voice cold and detached, though there was something else there too. “Why even bother with someone like them?”

You blinked, struggling to stay conscious. Your vision blurred again as your body betrayed you, and you nearly passed out. But not before you heard Deryl’s voice again, this time more insistent.

“Buddy,” Deryl said, trying to lighten the mood. “You should help people in need. Even if they photographed you.”

Geo shot him a look, his eyes deadly serious, but there was a flicker of something—something darker—in them when he looked down at you. His gaze was hard, calculating. It was like he was piecing something together in his mind. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke.

“I’m not touching them,” he muttered again, but it was clear that wasn’t the case anymore. He was trying to pretend he didn’t care, but his eyes told a different story.

You could barely focus, your eyelids growing heavier as your body refused to stay awake. Geo’s voice cut through the fog once more, and you caught a few words before everything went blank.

“Deryl, you carry them. I’m not touching that.”

Deryl adjusted his grip on you as he walked, muttering softly to himself. “Man, you’re heavier than you look…” He chuckled nervously, more to ease his own discomfort than to make a joke. You were completely unconscious, head lolling slightly, and he glanced back at Geo, who followed a few steps behind with his usual brooding expression.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes lingered on your face, his sharp gaze narrowing. Something about the way you looked stirred a memory, one he wasn’t prepared to confront. His steps faltered for just a moment before he hissed, “Wait.”

Deryl stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. “Huh? What is it?”

Geo’s eyes widened slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grimace. Without explaining himself, he stepped forward, his presence looming over both you and Deryl. “Give them to me.”

“What?” Deryl asked, startled. “You just said—”

“I said give them to me,” Geo snapped, his voice low and cold, cutting through Deryl’s hesitation. He reached out, his movements sharp but deliberate, and took you from Deryl’s arms without waiting for an argument.

Deryl blinked, his jaw dropping slightly. “You’ve been all high and mighty about not helping, and now you’re—”

“Shut up,” Geo hissed, his tone dangerous. He adjusted his grip on you with a surprising gentleness that contradicted the hostility in his voice. He glanced down at your face again, his expression hardening. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

Deryl stared at him for a moment before sighing and scratching the back of his head. “Alright, fine, Pal! . Lead the way, I guess.”

Geo didn’t reply. He simply started walking, his strides long and purposeful. Deryl followed behind, shooting the occasional curious glance at Geo, who carried you as if it were both a burden and something he couldn’t let go of.

When they reached the nearest bus stand, Geo stopped. He looked around briefly before stepping toward the bench. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, as he carefully set you down, leaning you against the metal backrest. His hands lingered for a moment, his fingers curling slightly as if he were resisting the urge to do more.

Deryl, watching the scene unfold, crossed his arms and tilted his head. “So, uh… what now? We just leave them here?”

Geo straightened up, his face as unreadable as ever. “Yes.”

“Seriously?” Deryl’s voice rose in disbelief. “You’re just gonna walk away and leave them like this? What if something happens?”

“They’ll survive.” Geo’s tone was clipped, final.

Deryl took a step closer, trying to catch Geo’s eye. “How do you even know that? You’re acting like you know them or something.”

Geo froze, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Slowly, he turned his head to glare at Deryl, his aquamarine gaze sharp enough to cut. “I said shut up.”

Deryl raised his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t quite mask his curiosity. “Alright, alright, no need to get all hissy about it. Just saying, you’re acting weird.”

Geo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he cast one last glance at you. His expression remained cold, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, perhaps? He pressed his lips into a thin line, his jaw tightening as if he were swallowing words he didn’t want to speak.

“Annoying,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. He turned on his heel and started walking away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Deryl jogged after him, falling into step beside him.

“Okay, but seriously,” Deryl said, his tone lighter now but still probing. “You’re acting like this is personal. Do you know them?”

Geo didn’t slow down, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “No.”

Deryl snorted. “You’re a terrible liar, buddy.”

“Shut up,” Geo snapped again, his voice lower this time, almost a growl. His pace quickened, but Deryl kept up, undeterred.

“Come on, man,” Deryl pressed. “If you don’t know them, why’d you suddenly change your mind? You went from ‘leave them to rot’ to ‘I’ll carry them myself’ in, like, two seconds. What gives?”

Geo’s teeth clenched, the muscles in his jaw tightening. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer, but then he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. “They’re too familiar.”

Deryl blinked, taken aback. “Familiar? Like how?”

Geo’s lips curled into a sneer, though it seemed more directed at himself than at Deryl. “I said, shut up.”

Deryl held up his hands again, though his grin widened. “Alright, alright. But you’re really bad at keeping secrets, you know that?”

Geo ignored him, his strides long and purposeful as he walked away from the bus stand. His mind, however, wasn’t as composed as his outward demeanor suggested. Memories he’d buried long ago were clawing their way to the surface, and no matter how much he tried to suppress them, they wouldn’t stay hidden.

“Still look the same…” he muttered under his breath, barely audible even to himself. His aquamarine eyes flicked toward the ground as he walked, his expression darkening. The weight of recognition was heavy on his shoulders, though he refused to let it show.

Deryl, walking beside him, noticed the change in Geo’s demeanor but chose not to press further. Instead, he settled for a quieter approach, matching Geo’s pace without saying a word. He could tell Geo was lost in his thoughts, and though Deryl was naturally nosy, he knew better than to push too hard when Geo was in one of his moods.

Geo’s mind raced as he replayed the events of the past hour. Your face, your fainted form, the way you’d looked so vulnerable—it all felt too close to something he couldn’t quite place. Or maybe he could, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“You’re too into my memories,” he muttered again, his voice barely more than a whisper. His fists clenched in his pockets as he walked, his gaze fixed ahead.

But despite his outward hostility, a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter wasn’t over. And that thought, as much as he hated to admit it, unsettled him more than anything else.

You jolted awake as a high-pitched wail pierced your groggy mind. A child, no older than five, stood in front of you, tugging at her mother’s sleeve. “I want to sit!” she cried, her tiny voice laced with impatience.

The mother gave you an apologetic smile, gently shaking your shoulder. “Excuse me, but could you let her sit?”

Blinking rapidly, you straightened up, your head still spinning. “Oh, uh, sorry! My bad!” You quickly stood, brushing yourself off as you apologized again.

The little girl climbed up onto the bench, beaming as she claimed her throne. The mother gave you a curt nod of thanks, and you stepped back, trying to collect your thoughts.

Your heart was still racing as you walked away, your legs shaky but functional. A strange heaviness settled in your chest as you tried to piece together what had happened. Then, with a sudden jolt of panic, you patted your pockets. Your phone. Relief flooded through you as you pulled it out, still intact.

Your thumb hovered over the screen as you unlocked it. The first thing you saw was the photo. The guy. His face stared back at you, aquamarine eyes cold and piercing even in stillness. You stared at it, holding your phone closer for a better look. He looked familiar somehow, but you couldn’t place why. Then again, did it matter?

You sighed, switching off your phone. At least you had something to show those goons. Even if they were terrifying, this picture might just save you from whatever chaos they had planned. You tried to convince yourself that was enough.

Your thoughts drifted back to the encounter. You couldn’t quite recall how you’d escaped, but you decided it wasn’t worth overthinking. You’d survived, right? That was all that mattered.

Later at Home

The familiar scent of food hit you as you walked through the door. Your stomach growled in response, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since morning. Sol was in the kitchen, idly humming as he set down a plate on the counter. He didn’t look at you, his attention focused elsewhere.

“Food’s ready,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing the plate without much thought. You caught a glimpse of him as you headed toward your room—he was hunched over the table, sketching something in his notebook. The silence between you was heavy, but you didn’t feel like breaking it.

Once inside your room, you locked the door behind you and plopped down on your bed. The plate balanced precariously on your lap as you mindlessly ate, your thoughts still scattered from the day’s events. Sol’s unusual quietness lingered in the back of your mind, but you brushed it off. He’s probably just sulking about something, like always.

You finished eating and set the empty plate on your bedside table. Lying back, you pulled out your phone again. The photo of the guy stared back at you, his aquamarine eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly.

“Guess I’ve got my ‘boyfriend,’” you muttered to yourself with a wry smile. The girls were going to love this.

The next day, you strutted into the campus with a newfound sense of pride, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. The image of the man’s piercing aquamarine eyes had become your badge of defiance against the girls who had bullied you. As they approached, the usual smug grins plastered on their faces, you decided it was time to strike.

“So, where’s your boyfriend’s picture?” one of them sneered, arms crossed.

“Oh, you mean this?” you said with a dramatic flourish, pulling out your phone and showing them the picture. Geo’s cold, intimidating gaze stared back at them. You almost felt sorry for them—almost.

Their smirks instantly dropped. One of the girls snatched the phone from your hand, staring at the screen in disbelief. “Wait… he’s your boyfriend?” she stammered, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes,” you said smugly, crossing your arms. “He is. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like my phone back.”

They handed it over quickly, their attitudes doing a complete 180. “We didn’t know he was your boyfriend! We won’t bother you anymore!” one of them said, her tone almost apologetic.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, an exaggerated, evil laugh escaping your lips. “Hehehehehehe!” You turned and walked away, feeling like you’d just conquered the world. Metaphorically, your nose was growing like Pinocchio’s, but who cared? You’d earned this victory.

Later, at lunch, you bumped into Brittney, who waved you over enthusiastically. “Hey, you coming to the cafeteria today?” she asked, her usual sunny demeanor infectious.

“Why not?” you replied, shrugging. It would be nice to eat with someone who wasn’t Sol for a change.

You all sat down to eat, Brittney turned to you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “So… I’ve been hearing some rumors.”

You blinked at her. “Rumors?”

“Yeah, you know, about a certain someone being your boyfriend,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Before you could answer, Crowe chimed in, “Speaking of someone, it’s been a while since Deryl and Geo hung out. Wonder what they’re up to?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Deryl and Geo? who are they?”

“Deryl’s great—kind as ever,” Crowe said with a grin. “Geo, though… well, he’s a piece of work. But don’t worry! He’s not as bad as he seems.”

You smiled faintly, unsure if you should feel reassured or not. Brittney, however, wasn’t letting the conversation shift away from the topic of your so-called boyfriend. “So, spill! Who is he?” she pressed.

With a dramatic flourish, you pulled out your phone and turned the screen toward her. The picture of the man filled the display, and you couldn’t help but add a smug, “Hehehehe!”

Brittney’s reaction was immediate. Her face fell, her cheerful expression replaced by something darker. “Wait… is this…?”

“What?” Jess leaned over to look, and her eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god.”

Crowe, curious about the fuss, leaned in as well. His usually calm demeanor cracked as his blue eyes sparkled with surprise. “You’re dating… him?”

All three of them screamed in unison, “YOU’RE DATING OUR GEO?!”

The cafeteria went silent, all eyes turning toward your table. You froze, your face flushing as you tried to stammer out a response.

Before you could say anything, two familiar figures entered the cafeteria: Deryl and Geo. Deryl looked as cheerful as ever, while Geo’s usual broody expression darkened as soon as his eyes landed on you.

“Geo!” Brittney yelled, pointing at him like he’d committed a crime. “You’re dating them?!”

The entire cafeteria erupted into whispers and murmurs, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked between you and the others, his expression unreadable.

You panicked. Before he could say a word, you grabbed his hand and bolted, dragging him out of the cafeteria as fast as your legs could carry you. Geo barely resisted, following behind with a mixture of shock and annoyance etched on his face.

“Wait—what the hell are you doing?” he hissed as you shoved open the door and pushed him outside.

“Just—just go with it!” you snapped, your voice a mix of desperation and embarrassment.

You stopped a few paces away from the building, finally letting go of his hand. Geo crossed his arms, his piercing gaze locked on you. “Care to explain what that was all about?”

You gulped, feeling the weight of his stare. “Um… it’s kind of a long story.”

“You-!“ he said coldly, his tone daring you to try lying again.

The moment you finished explaining, you felt your heart pounding as Geo stared at you, his expression cold and unreadable. You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to snap under his piercing aquamarine gaze. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand. I won’t tell anyone else. Just… please don’t expose me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Geo crossed his arms, his tall figure looming over you. His silence was more intimidating than any verbal berating. Finally, he let out a sharp sigh, the faintest trace of irritation flickering across his face. “You really are the most idiotic piece of shit,” he hissed, his voice low but cutting. “Photographing me, spreading rumors, telling people I’m your boyfriend—do you even think before you act?”

You flinched, clutching your phone tightly. “I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“Save it,” he cut you off, his tone icy. “Just stay out of my business from now on.” He turned as if to leave but paused, glancing back at you with narrowed eyes. “But… where did you even get that picture?”

Your mouth opened to respond, but suddenly, a memory bubbled to the surface. The sight of him standing there, broody and imposing, triggered something deep in your mind. “Wait…” you murmured, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. “I’ve seen you before. I know you from somewhere.”

Geo’s eyes narrowed further, his body tensing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s you,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Subaru-kun… it’s really you, isn’t it?”

The name hit him like a bolt of lightning. Geo’s face shifted from annoyance to pure panic, his aquamarine eyes widening as he looked around. A few girls nearby, overhearing the conversation, started whispering.

“Subaru?” one of them muttered. “Isn’t his name Geo?”

Geo clicked his tongue, his sharp jaw tightening as he grabbed your wrist. “You,” he hissed under his breath, “shut up.” Without another word, he dragged you away, ignoring your protests as you stumbled after him.

“Wait! What are you—Geo, I mean Subaru, I—”

“Stop talking,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. His grip on your wrist wasn’t painful, but it was firm enough to keep you moving. He navigated through the campus like a man on a mission, his long legs making it hard for you to keep up.

When you finally reached a secluded area behind one of the buildings, he released your wrist and spun to face you. “Don’t ever call me that name again,” he said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“But why—”

“Because that’s not who I am anymore,” he interrupted, his tone softer but still guarded. He raked a hand through his dark bluish-purple hair, his earrings catching the light as he turned his gaze away from you. “Got it?”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. The Subaru you remembered—kind, soft-spoken, always smiling—was so different from the man standing in front of you now. But even in his hostility, you could see fragments of the boy you used to play with, buried beneath layers of coldness and resentment. “It really is you,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Geo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re so damn persistent,” he muttered, his tone laced with exasperation. “Why couldn’t you just leave things alone?”

“I didn’t know it was you!” you defended, your voice rising slightly. “I just… I thought you looked familiar, and now I know why. We used to play together, remember? You and Hyugo and—”

“Enough.” His voice was sharp, but his aquamarine eyes betrayed a flicker of something—pain, maybe? “The past doesn’t matter. Not to me, and it shouldn’t to you, either.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. The tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken memories and unresolved emotions pressing down on both of you. Finally, Geo straightened, his usual cold demeanor sliding back into place.

“Just… forget this happened,” he said, his tone more resigned than angry. “And stop dragging me into your messes.”

Before you could respond, he turned and started walking away, his long strides carrying him further and further from you. For a moment, you considered chasing after him, but something in his posture—rigid and unyielding—stopped you. Instead, you watched him disappear around the corner, the name “Subaru” lingering on the tip of your tongue like a forbidden word.

Your heart ached as you stood there, alone in the silence. It wasn’t just Geo who had changed—you realized, with a pang, that you had, too. And somehow, in the midst of all this chaos, you had stumbled back into each other’s lives. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, you weren’t sure yet.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes narrowed, frustration evident on his sharp, pale face. He crossed his arms and stared down at you as if you were the most infuriating puzzle he’d ever encountered. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” he said, his tone icy and cutting. “First, you drag me into this whole boyfriend nonsense, and now I’m stuck dealing with your idiotic face. You’re just like Hyugo—always causing problems I never asked for.”

His words hit like a slap. You blinked, trying to keep your composure, but the sting of his insult made your chest tighten. “I didn’t mean to,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry.”

Geo scoffed, clicking his tongue in irritation. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything,” he snapped. He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over you, and tilted your chin up with a surprisingly firm yet gentle hand, forcing you to look into his aquamarine eyes. “You’re the one who got us into this mess,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “And the only reason I’m even this nice to you is because, unfortunately, you’re someone I used to know. You haven’t done anything wrong—yet. But keep pushing, and we’ll see.”

His sharp words were laced with venom, but there was something else in his gaze—a flicker of restraint, as though he were holding back more than just his temper. Your breath hitched under the intensity of his stare, and you bit your lip, looking away. “It’s fine,” you said quietly. “I’ll fix it. I’ll tell everyone it was a lie. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

You turned to leave, your head low, but Geo’s voice stopped you in your tracks. “Wait.”

You froze, glancing back at him hesitantly. His expression was still hard, but his aquamarine eyes had softened, just a fraction. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his bluish-purple hair, his earrings swaying slightly with the movement. “There’s no point in fixing it now,” he muttered, almost to himself. “The damage is done. And if I’m being honest, it might actually work in my favor.”

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Geo’s lips pressed into a thin line, as though he hated every word he was about to say. “This school is full of shitty people,” he began, his voice laced with irritation. “Love letters piling up at the end of the year, girls stalking me, and way too much work to deal with. If pretending to be your boyfriend gets them off my back, I’ll do it.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”

He fixed you with a deadpan stare. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

You blinked, your mind racing. Geo—cold, broody, terrifying Geo—was offering to pretend to be your boyfriend. “I don’t understand,” you said slowly. “You hate me, and now you’re offering to help?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, though his tone wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I hate the situation you dragged me into. But if it gives me some damn solitude, it’s worth it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. This didn’t feel real—Geo, the guy who seemed to hate everyone and everything, willingly offering to go along with your mess? It was the last thing you expected.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said, his tone sharp, as if reading your mind. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me, and keeping people away from me. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, still trying to process everything. “Got it.”

“Good.” He stepped back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “But don’t push your luck. If you do anything stupid, this deal’s off.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “I promise.”

Geo rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Whatever. Just try not to embarrass me more than you already have.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, his long strides carrying him out of sight.

You stood there for a moment, replaying the conversation in your mind. Geo, of all people, pretending to be your boyfriend? It was so absurd you almost laughed. Almost.

But as you thought about his offer, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The weight of everything from the day was making your head spin. You had barely registered the final bell ringing, signaling the end of classes, before you packed your things in a rush. There was so much pressure on you, too much. You wanted to thank Geo for the ridiculous arrangement, but the reality of it was starting to sink in, and it was suffocating. You just needed to escape, get away from everyone, clear your head.

But as you stuffed your notebook into your bag, you heard Crowe’s voice behind you. “Hey, can we talk for a second?”

You paused, turning to look at him, a little surprised by his sudden approach. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to mask the anxiety twisting in your stomach.

Crowe shifted on his feet, his expression a little more serious than usual. “It’s about you and Geo…”

Before he could go any further, someone at the door interrupted, their voice cutting through the air. “He’s waiting for you.”

You froze. He? You glanced towards the classroom door, and there, standing in the hallway, was Geo. His aquamarine eyes were focused somewhere off in the distance, looking as uninterested as ever, yet there he was—waiting.

A strange feeling tugged at your chest. Was this really happening? You’d expected him to be cold, but to actually see him waiting for you like this was a different kind of surreal.

Crowe raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at you. “Looks like someone’s waiting, huh?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. You nodded, but your voice barely escaped. “Yeah, I guess so…”

With that, you made your way to the door, feeling your feet move like they were carrying you toward your fate. As you approached Geo, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was he really waiting for you, or was this some sort of joke? You were bracing yourself for his usual stony indifference.

“Geo?” you asked hesitantly. “Are you… waiting for me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, his face expressionless, his stance relaxed but distant. For a split second, you thought maybe this was a chance for him to act sweeter, to at least pretend to play along with the whole boyfriend act. You almost expected him to give you a teasing smile, some playful banter. But then, everything changed in a flash.

Without warning, he reached out and pinched your side, hard. A sharp pain shot through you, and you gasped, immediately feeling the sting of his fingers digging into your skin.

“You should’ve waited for me,” he scolded, his voice low and cold, but with a noticeable edge of annoyance.

You winced, holding your side where he pinched you, and instinctively, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Geo’s eyes narrowed, his face still unreadable. “Tch. Whatever. Let’s go.”

He didn’t even wait for you to respond, immediately turning and walking toward the exit. You stood there, momentarily stunned, before scrambling to catch up to him. The moment the words left his mouth, you realized just how much control he had in this situation.

You hurriedly walked behind him, your heart pounding as you struggled to keep up with his brisk pace. The silence between you both was almost unbearable, the weight of the earlier events and his cold reaction weighing heavily on you. You had expected something—anything—that resembled affection, but instead, all you were left with was his cold indifference.

Geo walked ahead, you felt something stirring deep within you—a mix of frustration, confusion, and a strange pull toward him. You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were both stuck in this weird dance together.

Brittney and Jess were sitting together, the usual buzz of the cafeteria surrounding them as they spoke in hushed tones, exchanging glances. They couldn’t believe it—Geo, Geo, of all people, was actually dating someone. It was almost surreal.

“I just… I don’t get it,” Jess murmured, her voice still tinged with disbelief. “How can someone as… scary as him be in a relationship? Like, who could handle that? He’s so intimidating.”

Brittney glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “You really think he doesn’t care? Maybe he’s just… hard to read? I don’t know, maybe someone’s actually getting through to him.”

“Who knows? Someone has to be changing him,” said with a small frown. “I just… I can’t see him acting this way for no reason. There’s no way someone could stay that icy without something or someone… breaking through.”

Before they could dive deeper into their thoughts, Deryl walked into the cafeteria with his usual carefree stride, scanning the room for his friends. As soon as he spotted them, he made his way over, looking a little too smug for anyone’s liking.

“Hey, where’s Geo?” Deryl asked, looking around as though Geo had just disappeared off the face of the Earth.

“Ah, Geo?” Brittney started, her voice flat and disinterested, though her mind was still buzzing. “He went with his… partner.”

Deryl blinked, the news landing on him like a slap to the face. “Partner?” he echoed, eyes wide with shock. “He actually has a partner?”

Brittney nodded curtly. “Yeah. I’m guessing that’s what’s happening. Can’t say I expected it.”

Deryl’s jaw nearly dropped. “Wait, wait, wait—hold on. Geo? Dating someone? But… he’s the I’m happy for my pal!”

Jess looked a little uncomfortable at Deryl’s outburst, glancing at Brittney for reassurance. She cleared her throat. “I mean, I guess if someone’s able to get through to him, that’s… impressive?”

Deryl was still in shock. “But—who could handle him?” His eyes widened as if the very idea of someone taming the chaos that was Geo was too much to fathom. “He’s… so unpredictable, so intense. Who even—”

Brittney, sensing Deryl’s struggle to process, gave him a knowing smirk. “Maybe Geo does have a heart, after all. Strange, right?”

Deryl’s response was instant, his face lighting up with a smirk of his own. “Pfft, Geo having a heart? Nah, he’s a cat. Cats are stubborn and difficult to deal with, but deep down, they’ve got their moments. They can be soft when they want to be, but don’t expect them to show it all the time.”

The idea of Geo being a “cat” seemed to hit a nerve with the group, causing them to laugh despite themselves. Deryl’s tone had been teasing, but there was a strange sense of truth to it. Geo, with all his aloofness and cold demeanor, was a little like a cat—moody, hard to figure out, but once he trusted someone, he was loyal in his own way.

Brittney nodded slowly, her lips curling into a half-smile. “I guess… but a cat? You’ve got a point. He’s certainly got his claws out all the time.”

Jess, who had been quiet up until now, shrugged. “I don’t know. I just… can’t picture it. I mean, it’s hard to imagine him with someone. But hey, maybe that’s the thing. Maybe he’s just… waiting for the right person to bring him out of his shell.”

Deryl leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, still processing everything. “I guess. If someone can get him to soften up, then maybe he’s not as messed up as he looks. Who knows? He’s got a reputation, but… maybe it’s not all bad.”

The group fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment. Geo was a mystery to everyone, but now that he was involved with someone—someone—it added another layer to his already complex persona. The idea of him being soft or affectionate in any way still seemed so foreign, but with everything they’d learned about him, it was becoming increasingly clear that there was more to Geo than met the eye.

They continued to ponder Geo’s strange relationship status, the sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted their thoughts. It was a loud thud followed by a voice calling out, and before they knew it, Deryl turned his head toward the door.

Geo, the ever-distant, ever-aloof figure, walked in with that same cool, expressionless demeanor. His eyes scanned the room before locking onto you. And despite everything he had said, despite his cold exterior, there was something about the way he carried himself that made it clear—he wasn’t going to let anyone push him around. He was here to stay, and no matter what anyone thought, you were with him now.

Brittney and Jess exchanged glances as they watched him approach, and even though they had their reservations about Geo, they couldn’t help but wonder—was this the side of him they had yet to see?

The questions and the mysteries about Geo only seemed to multiply, but one thing was certain—he wasn’t just a “cat” or an intimidating figure anymore. He was someone with more layers, and those who cared to look close enough were going to see them, one way or another.

Next day

Lunchtime came, and as expected, you found yourself seated next to Geo at the lunch table, a situation you never could have imagined. His friends had planned it—no doubt to make things even more awkward for you. There you were, sitting beside him, unsure of what to even say or do. It was supposed to be a casual lunch, right? But it was far from it.

You had brought a soda with you, offering it to Geo in a small, kind gesture, hoping that maybe it’d be a step toward a more comfortable moment between you two. But instead of accepting it, Geo looked at you—dead in the eyes—and gave you his water bottle without saying a word.

“W-What?” You blinked, unsure of what just happened. Was he messing with you? You looked at the water bottle in your hand, feeling an awkward lump form in your throat. What was this? Why was he acting like this?

You took a sip, trying not to feel too frustrated. There was nothing to do but follow the silent pattern of your lunch together. You ate your food slowly, almost like a dog eating scraps, feeling small in your chair. The taste of the food was bland, but you didn’t mind. It didn’t matter much anymore, did it?

You ate, your gaze wandered around, and then you noticed it—most of the girls in the cafeteria had their eyes on you. You felt an uncomfortable shiver crawl up your spine as you tried not to look up, not wanting to attract more attention. Why were they staring? What was going on?

Before you could figure it out, two girls suddenly came and sat next to you. Their eyes were full of curiosity, and they wasted no time in asking, “So, how’s Geo doing?”

Geo remained silent, not even looking at them, his face as impassive as ever. Then, without warning, he took your hand—his fingers lightly curling around yours—and stood up. You froze for a second, not sure if you were imagining this. Was he really doing this?

His hand in yours felt warm, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort wash over you. “What?” you asked, almost whispering in disbelief, your eyes locking with his. “Your hand…”

He barely glanced at you before answering in his usual cold tone, “Let’s stay like this for a while.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You felt… happy. It was unexpected, sure, but there was something about the closeness that made you forget about the strange situation. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as cold as he always appeared. Or maybe you were just imagining things, holding on to a fleeting hope.

But then, his next words crushed that tiny bit of hope you had managed to build. “My friends are watching,” he said coldly, his voice cutting through the moment like ice.

You looked behind you instinctively, and there they were—the familiar heads of his friends, staring at the two of you with intense curiosity. Your heart sank, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at your intertwined hands. There it was again, that feeling from childhood, that strange sense of familiarity, the way you and Geo used to be when you were younger.

It was unnatural to let go now, wasn’t it? You couldn’t bring yourself to pull your hand away. Maybe it was that part of you that longed for something—anything—that felt real and lasting, even if it was tied to a lie. But looking back at the stares, you felt uneasy. Geo’s friends watching, the girls eyeing you, the weight of the lie hanging over you like a cloud.

In that moment, you realized that this… whatever it was between you and Geo, wasn’t real. Not in the way you wanted it to be. It was a performance, a farce, an act for everyone else. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were just as much a part of it as he was.

But the strange feeling still lingered. The warmth of his hand, the memories from when you were younger, the sudden pull toward him despite everything. It was like your childhood self had never really let go, and now, you had no choice but to face the consequences of holding on to something that could never be.

Geo dragged you into a quiet corner of the school building, away from the prying eyes of his friends and the girls who seemed to be watching your every move. The hallway was eerily silent, the distant murmur of voices from the cafeteria fading into the background. He finally let go of your hand, and you flexed your fingers, still feeling the lingering warmth from his grip.

“It should be safe now,” he muttered, his voice low and cold.

You looked at him, feeling awkward as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Geo, I—”

“Shut up,” he snapped, cutting you off sharply. His aquamarine eyes glared at you, and you froze on the spot.

“But—”

Before you could finish, he flicked his finger against your forehead with surprising force. “Ow!” you yelped, covering the sore spot with your hand, your eyes wide with disbelief. “What was that for?”

He crossed his arms, his expression unamused. “I told you to shut up. You’re part of this mess now, so just deal with it.”

You blinked, staring at him. “But—”

“If you disobey me and try to make excuses again,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than before, “I’m not tolerating it. Do you understand me?” His gaze was intense, pinning you to the spot.

You hesitated, fidgeting under his scrutiny. He was so harsh, but… it wasn’t just anger, was it? There was something else in the way he spoke, a strange sort of protectiveness, even if it was buried under layers of frustration. “Geo…” you murmured softly, trying to find the right words. “You… you’ve done so much for me. Even though all those rumors say you’re dangerous and scary, you’re…”

He raised an eyebrow, looking almost annoyed. “What?”

You swallowed nervously, barely managing a smile as you finished, “You’re just… a moody little neko…”

There was a pause—a heavy, awkward silence—as Geo processed what you’d just said. His expression shifted from confusion to utter disbelief, and then his usual scowl returned in full force.

“A what?” he growled, leaning closer to you, his intimidating presence making you shrink back slightly.

“I-I mean, it’s kind of cute how you care in your own way!” you stammered, waving your hands defensively. “Not that I’m saying you’re actually a neko or anything! Just that—”

“Shut. Up.” He snapped his fingers in front of your face again, and you flinched. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a nervous laugh. He was so serious, so moody, and yet… you couldn’t help but find it endearing. Maybe it was foolish, but despite his sharp words and cold demeanor, you felt oddly safe with him. Like, under all that hostility, there was someone who actually cared, even if he’d rather flick your forehead than admit it.

THIS ISN’T WORKING! MAYBE YOU SHOULD FIND A REAL BOYFRIEND SO- HAHAHAHHA, MAYBE HE WILL NOT GET HIT!

#geo oogami #the kid at the back vn #the kid at the back sol #tkatb x reader #the kid at the back x reader #hyugo sugimoto #Subaru oogami #tkatb geo #tkatb #tkatb vn #the kid at the back mc #tkatb geo x reader #the kid at the back geo

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ifortom · 7 months ago

Text

Bad Decisions - T.H. (2)

frat!Tom x Reader - Fake dating AU

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Tom find themselves attending a lively party together, their mission disguised as a couple. As they navigate the evening's social intricacies, they must maintain their charade amidst curious friends.

MASTERLIST

W/C: +4K

• DAY 1

This was definitely a position you never expected to find yourself in.

While Tom was lying relaxed on your bed the day after you agreed to his deal, you paced back and forth without stopping. Several thoughts were going through your head with several different theories about why you had accepted such a crazy and risky proposal as this one.

Would it be out of pity for yourself? A way to save yourself the headache and questions from family members about when your big day will arrive, or why you're single?

Even worse, spare you from getting questions about your traumatic breakup with He Who Must Not Be Named?

Was all this to help a friend?

Truth be told - but never out loud - a large part of the decision was made out of jealousy. The photos from last night and your reactions are proof that you couldn't bear to see Tom with girls who don't deserve him. "Would you stop? It's making me dizzy." Tom said as he sat up properly on the bed. His hand patted the mattress twice, inviting you to join him.

"Sorry. I just… I'm nervous." You said as you sat on the bed next to him, your hands rubbing against each other trying to hide the tremors. Tom noticed.

"Y/N why are you so nervous? I thought you agreed." His hands were now intertwined with yours. "Besides, if you don't want to… that's okay. I'm not going to force you into anything and you know that."

"That's not it… I agreed, but that's strange. How should we act? What are we going to say?"

"Most people will say they saw it coming." Tom chuckled while you rolled your eyes. "Come on, I know you also heard that we should be together a while ago".

"God, even Professor Riley asked me that once." You said, releasing your hands from his and hiding your face.

"Really? Did we have any of his classes together?" Tom asked.

"Not really, but you always waited for me outside his class so we could go to lunch together. He just assumed."

"See? I think everyone figured this would happen at some point."

But would it be in these conditions? A lie. That was what this new side of your friendship would be based on.

"Okay. Since we're going to do this we need to establish some rules."

"Great, we've reached the cliché part of any fake dating deal." Tom says mockingly. "Don't tell me we can't kiss… it's impossible to make it believable if we don't do the basics."

"I wasn't going to say that, we certainly need minimal PDA." You say, getting up and walking around the room again. "But it turns out that your love language is physical touch, which happens to make you very touchy with everyone you like and have the intimacy to do."

"Okay, no touching anyone who isn't my fake girlfriend." He says. "We spend a lot of time together, nothing out of the ordinary."

"That, and being in a relationship also means you need to slow down your partying and spend more time with your partner."

"But… it also means that said partner can accompany me to these parties." Tom shot back.

"Tom, I'm not available on the same frequency as you are."

"Seriously, Y/N! It's not like I spend most of my time at frat parties." He looked at you in disbelief. "You know that very well."

He wasn't lying, Tom may have a big life but he is extremely centered and doesn't let himself get carried away so easily.

"Okay, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that. It's just…Sean used to go to a lot of parties while we were together." You sighed. "And not that that's a problem, after all just because we were dating didn't mean we needed to be glued to each other all the time, but… he was on another campus and it was strange not knowing what was going on. We know how wild these parties can get and I was always very worried because I wouldn't find out he was at one until the next day."

Tom put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you with him to lie down on the bed. Automatically, you settled into his arms, resting your head on his chest.

"He's an asshole, and everyone knows it. You don't have to worry about that with me." His hand caressed your arm. "As a friend and as a fake boyfriend, I will never leave you in a position like that."

"Thanks, Tommy!" Snuggling more and more into his body.

After a few minutes in the same position, you get up, patting Tom's chest.

"Okay, so what do we do now? What's the next step? We have two months until my sister's wedding, not counting the unofficial events that will take place beforehand."

"I think we need to start by introducing ourselves as a couple. And we start on campus."

"Shall we hold hands before entering the classroom? And will I watch you at training and games?" You say with a shameless smile.

"That too! But I thought we'd start sooner." He says, lifting his body and returning to the sitting position next to you.

"How?" You ask suspiciously and Tom sighs.

"It's Saturday and the team organized a little get together tonight to celebrate the start of the season. Which means it's not a huge party like usual. It's just the players and some friends." He analyzed your face before continuing. "I think it would be a great place for the news to start circulating. These are people close to me and I want you to meet them."

"You know our football players don't have the best reputation, right?"

"I know that, but they're good people. We're young, Y/N, and we mess up from time to time."

"You also break the hearts of innocent girls for fun." You laughed.

"Not everyone." He replied. "Not that it interests you much, but I always make it clear that everything is nothing more than a one night stand."

"What a gentleman you are, Tom Holland. Women love to be thought of like that."

"Stop making me be the bad guy. I say this so they don't get their hopes up about it happening again."

"If that's your motto, why would your friends think I'm any different?" You say quietly, and notice the proximity of your face and Tom, who is completely relaxed, supporting the weight of his body on his arms resting on the bed.

He calmly raises one of his hands and removes a strand of hair from your face, placing it behind your ear.

"Because you're different, and they know it. You're a constant in my life and that's not going to change."

Tom Holland has a habit of speaking dangerous words. Both for him and for you. It's not the first time he swears an eternal relationship between you and every time he repeats the promise your heart almost stops.

It's hard not to have deep thoughts when a handsome, intelligent and charming man says he wants to spend his life by your side.

"Is Taylor going to be there?" You ask, purposefully breaking the mood.

Tom's eyes move away from your face and stare at the wall.

"I'm not sure. But she's Jack's sister, so it's likely."

"Alright! We need to fulfill your side of the agreement too. Then we can think about what to do about the wedding."

"So we're going to the party?" He says and the fact that he used we, as if without you he wouldn't go, did things to your heart. But that's thinking too deeply, right?

"Hm…" You pretended to think. "Yes, Holland, we are.”

Once decided, you and Tom ordered a delivery for lunch while talking about the party and other common issues that were already a topic of conversation between the two of you.

He left a while later and said he would pick you up at home by car and you would go together to the house of one of the team's players where the little get together, as he said, would take place.

The butterflies in your stomach intensified the moment he left and you realized there was no turning back.

You could give up on everything but Tom was counting on you and the adrenaline was doing you good.

Especially when you reflected on your family's reaction to seeing that you had found another boy. And knowing Tom, you know that he would soon be embraced by your family with his kind and polite way.

Even though you know that there is an expiration date that has not yet been defined between you.

Since today is a non-school day, you spent the afternoon trying to distract yourself from the fact that you would be introducing yourself as someone's girlfriend after a while. Even crazier is introducing herself as the girlfriend of Tom Holland, one of the most popular guys on campus and star of the team. Even though Sean isn't very different, Tom is your friend and all of this was just a farce so that the two of you could benefit in some way.

But that can't stop you from the good feeling of being with someone in public and doing all the couple things you like.

You and Tom didn't rehearse or define what you were going to say and act when you arrived, you were just going to do what you normally do. But with more touches and caresses.

You looked in the mirror and checked what must have been your fifth change of clothes. You're not insecure, but today your feelings are running high and for the first time in a long time, you feel nervous about the idea of going out.

Between dresses and pants, you opted for a black skirt that covered half of your thighs, not too short but not too discreet either. A tight white blouse and a beige cardigan covered your upper half. Along with sneakers on your feet for comfort.

Light but striking makeup painted your face. And you felt good about what you saw in the mirror. Until the apartment doorbell rang and you felt the butterflies in your stomach again.

Tom wasn't much different than what you're used to. He wore black pants, a white blouse and a cap on his head.

"Why are you wearing a cap at night?" That's what you told him.

"Woah, thanks for letting me praise you before you criticize me." He responded ironically. "But do you think it's bad?"

"I just don't understand the purpose." You say closing and locking the door behind you as you leave the apartment.

"Maybe…" He started taking the cap off his head and placing it on yours. "I just wanted to be able to make my girlfriend wear something of mine. That was the purpose." He says adjusting it.

"But now you just destroyed my outfit that took me a long time to decide." You say pouting.

Tom laughed and held your hand, walking with you to the car.

"You look beautiful!" He said and heat rose to your cheeks.

"You're just as you always are. Where's the effort, Holland?" You respond, in an attempt to divert the topic away from you and how you are.

The way to the house was quicker than it seemed and you had no idea you lived so close to one of the team's players. Tom parked and made a point of opening the door on your side, already meeting looks from people who were passing by. You removed the cap from your head and threw it in the back seat before getting out.

Outside, you looked at the house and the number of cars parked around it. It was also possible to hear the music coming from inside.

"Now is the time. I need to know that you are sure about this. If you don't want to we can leave or you could have just come to accompany me as my friend." He stopped in front of you, capturing your attention on his face. "You decide Y/N."

And after he said that, a quick doubtful thought crossed his mind. Was it really right to do this? How many people would get involved and believe your story? Your friends, Tom's, your family?

Not to mention the friendship between you. How many books and films prove that a fake relationship between two great friends ends in trouble are there?

But you remembered Tom's reaction when you laughed at his idea and how he avoided you the next day. He seemed extremely embarrassed by what he had suggested. Maybe your friendship was already doomed to failure the moment he proposed it.

So what else is there to be done? The alternative is to take advantage and continue with the plan. Who knows the end of this story? Only you can write it and if it depends on you, the promise to always be by his side will last for eternity. Nothing will come in the way of your friendship.

Looking into his eyes you nodded.

"I'm sure, let's do it." Tom smiled and offered his hand which you held tightly as you walked together to the entrance of the house.

From the inside, it was already possible to see that the definition of small get together for you and those people was the complete opposite. Really, the place wasn't packed with people like other parties tend to be, but it seemed like every room accommodated a group.

Tom greeted some people on the way who pointed out the back of the house for him.

When you passed through the huge door that gave access to the garden, a circle of people sat in a covered space. Tom walked up to them and you finally recognized some faces. Harrison, with whom you had already shared some classes together and is a close friend of Tom's, as well as Brian, who had made the unnecessary comment about you and Tom a few days ago, and some girls on the cheer team

"Finally! The man of the hour." Harrison said ironically and the others laughed.

"Sorry, I had to make a stop." And Tom pulled you closer to him, letting go of your hand and resting his on your waist.

"Woah, Y/N! I didn't expect to see you here." Harrison said.

"Yeah… Tom can be pretty convincing." You replied looking at Tom.

"So you guys are…" Tyler, who you recognized, began to speak.

“Y/N is my date tonight.” Tom replied.

"Good job, Tommy." Brian said, raising the bottle of beer he was drinking as if in salute to Tom, a sarcastic smile on the corner of his mouth.

This caused you discomfort and Tom squeezed your waist.

Amber, one of the cheerleaders, who was always very friendly and not the classic stereotype, smiled at you.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N.” She said, getting looks from the other girls.

Tom pulled out one of the upholstered benches and sat down and when you looked at him as if asking what to do, he just looked at his lap.

It's hard to believe he simply wants you to sit on his lap. As if it were something normal and that you do every day.

He looked at you again and signaled for you to sit down. It didn't seem like it, but you felt extremely awkward as you tried to settle into his lap without looking uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, including the fact that you were wearing a skirt.

When you finally felt like you weren't showing anything you didn't want, you leaned back against Tom's chest and he also placed one of his arms on your lap, in an attempt to protect you.

His breath hit your neck, giving you goosebumps. That's how it would be from now on. One of his hands was holding your waist, while the other was on top of your thigh, even over your skirt, you could feel the heat emanating from him.

Tyler offered Tom a beer, who politely declined, explaining that he was driving, which caused a fit of laughter among some of the guys.

"I have a girl to protect." He replied and you saved the fact that you needed to reprimand him for driving after drinking.

After Tom denied it, Tyler pointed the bottle at you, who hesitated but Tom whispered in your ear that it was okay, that you could have fun and he would take care of you if you needed it.

And so the night went on, the boys really weren't what they seemed to be. Even with some unnecessary comments from time to time, they made you laugh and told stories you didn't know about. Even the cheerleaders were including you in their conversations.

"Are you having fun?" Tom whispered in your ear.

You turned to face him the way you could within the position you were in.

"They're not that bad." You answered. "At least, not all of them." You laughed, adjusting yourself on his lap so that you were on your side, legs crossed over his, making it easier to look at him.

Tom knew that you were mainly referring to Brian, that at one time or another he made comments about you and looked at you without stopping. At these moments, he would seek your attention and try to reassure you with touches showing that he was there.

"Not everything can be perfect, right?"

You laughed and threw your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to yours.

"What is that?" He asked.

"We need to make this believable, right?" You answered. The drink was already taking effect and you were feeling more daring than usual.

His nose brushed yours, your breaths mixed due to the little space between you.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" He responded slowly.

"Really? I don't think I am."

"Why did you dress like that tonight? I wasn't lying when I said you look beautiful. And other things…"

"What you mean? Do you have a thing for legs?” You asked, playing with the hair on the back of his neck and his hand caressed the exposed part of your thigh.

"You know you're hot today. I know you. Who are you trying to impress?" He asked, squeezing your thigh.

"There's only one person I need to impress." You replied seductively. "And I think I've done a good job."

Tom and you often playfully flirt. He never held back when praising you, but something was different today. Blame it on the beer, but your perception was that he was enjoying this deeper game you were playing.

And yes, you were also more sassy than usual. The mouth close to his and the slow way you spoke were proof of that.

"Hey, I think you guys better find a room." Harrison interrupted whatever was going on between you. You pulled away, realizing you were lost in him and forgot about the people around you.

Amber called you by name.

"Shall we go to the bathroom?"

"Why do you girls have this thing about going to the bathroom together?" Tyler asked.

Amber smiled and pulled you by the hand, making Tom let go.

"We share secrets." She replied cheekily and you left together.

"Girl, what was that? You two were almost swallowing each other in front of all of us." She said as soon as she closed the bathroom door and you laughed.

"I didn't even notice." You responded by covering your face.

"I just have to congratulate you, Tom Holland is definitely the most sought-after guy on the team." She said taking out a lip gloss from the small bag she was carrying and looking at herself in the mirror. "But you were friends, right? I always saw you guys together, but today it seems like you can't keep your hands off each other."

"Yeah… we are, we're trying something." You replied and Amber smiled offering you the lip gloss which you refused.

"And I wish you guys luck, I'm happy for him. I hope you guys last." She said and the last sentence bothered you, pricking that small piece of sobriety in you. "Let's go back?" She said opening the door.

When you were close enough to the circle, you realized that Tom was no longer there. Lost, you looked around for him but to no avail.

“He went to get you some water from the kitchen” Harrison announced seeing your confusion and you nodded at him.

"And do you know who went after him?" Brian's voice filled the space. "Taylor. And it's also been a while since he left and hasn't come back yet." He shrugged as if there were no ulterior motives behind his words.

You looked back and without responding went into the house. Even though you bumped into several strangers on the way, you found the kitchen but Tom was no longer there.

He wouldn't leave you there alone, right? He wouldn't embarrass you like that by showing up to the party with you and leaving with another girl.

Tom may be many things but he values your friendship and wouldn't do that to you. Or would he? Would he allow himself to be carried away by his desire for a girl?

Panic set in, and you looked around for any sign of him, that he was still there.

Fingers found your shoulders and you turned around in fright. You expected to find Tom but the one in front of you was Taylor. Her eyes cold and glued to your face.

"I will destroy you." She said. "I thought my relationship with Tom was very clear, but apparently some people need to learn in a harder way."

It was unbelievable the things she could say. Taylor truly believed there was a relationship between them. And from the way she said it, they had already met at the party while you were away and apparently she didn't get what she wanted.

At any other time you would have avoided conflict, not out of fear, but because of the passive way you live outside of confusion that doesn't concern you. But how can a stranger threaten you like that? Who does she think she is?

"So this is how you react when you don't get what you want? You think threatening others will make things happen for you?" Taylor didn't expect you to hit back and her stance dropped. "You should wake up to life, not everyone will give in to your desires out of fear of you."

Her shocked expression was what you needed to put an end to the conversation, turn your back and return to Tom's arms.

But you weren't finished yet.

"Tom and I are together, and that's what we call a relationship." And with that you left her.

It didn't take long for you to find the person you were looking for, who had returned to the back of the house where the rest of the people were. But he hadn't joined them yet, in fact he was waiting for you near the door.

He saw you and smiled but noticed your irritated expression as you walked towards him.

"Hey, what happened?" His hands cupped your face. "Why that face?"

"I ran into Taylor, and I know you did too."

"What did she say to you?" His expression was one of concern. "Y/N, I cut her off right away. I said I was here with someone else and…"

You didn't let him finish, in seconds his lips were on yours.

Tom seemed surprised and hesitant but then he pulled you closer by the waist and your arms wrapped around his neck.

The kiss got deeper and deeper and you forgot that there was an audience watching. Tom explored your mouth with his tongue as if he depended on it.

The lack of air made you pull away but soon your lips collided again as if it was painful to be apart.

"Y/N, we need to stop now. I don't…"

"I don't want to." You replied, again pulling him closer.

"I admit I don't either, but we have too many eyes on us." He said laughing lightly and running his eyes over the people staring at the two of you.

You took a deep breath and rested your head on his chest, hiding your face.

"It's a shame because I won't know when we'll do it again." You said quietly but clearly enough for Tom.

His fingers squeezed you tightly because he understood what you meant. It was all a lie, and displays of affection at this level should only be done in public spaces.

"I think you went a little overboard on the beer." He sighed. "Shall we go home? It's late."

"I want to be with you."

"Let's go then. I'll let you sleep in my bed, even at the risk of waking up full of vomit." He laughed and you punched his shoulder.

You quickly said goodbye to the group of people, including Taylor who had joined them and had witnessed your entire show. Some of the boys raised their hands in thumbs up as if they knew what would happen when Tom took you home.

Oh if only they knew the truth.

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#tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland imagines #tom holland smut

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communist-manifesto-daily · 10 months ago

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The Communist Manifesto - Part 14

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III. Socialist and Communist Literature

1. Reactionary Socialism

A. Feudal Socialism

Owing to their historical position, it became the vocation of the aristocracies of France and England to write pamphlets against modern bourgeois society. In the French Revolution of July 1830, and in the English reform agitation‡, these aristocracies again succumbed to the hateful upstart. Thenceforth, a serious political struggle was altogether out of the question. A literary battle alone remained possible. But even in the domain of literature the old cries of the restoration period had become impossible.*

‡ A reference to the movement for an electoral reform which, under the pressure of the working class, was passed by the British House of Commons in 1831 and finally endorsed by the House of Lords in June, 1832. The reform was directed against monopoly rule of the landed and finance aristocracy and opened the way to Parliament for the representatives of the industrial bourgeoisie. Neither workers nor the petty-bourgeois were allowed electoral rights, despite assurances they would.

* Not the English Restoration (1660-1689), but the French Restoration (1814-1830). [Note by Engels to the English edition of 1888.]

In order to arouse sympathy, the aristocracy was obliged to lose sight, apparently, of its own interests, and to formulate their indictment against the bourgeoisie in the interest of the exploited working class alone. Thus, the aristocracy took their revenge by singing lampoons on their new masters and whispering in his ears sinister prophesies of coming catastrophe.

In this way arose feudal Socialism: half lamentation, half lampoon; half an echo of the past, half menace of the future; at times, by its bitter, witty and incisive criticism, striking the bourgeoisie to the very heart’s core; but always ludicrous in its effect, through total incapacity to comprehend the march of modern history.

The aristocracy, in order to rally the people to them, waved the proletarian alms-bag in front for a banner. But the people, so often as it joined them, saw on their hindquarters the old feudal coats of arms, and deserted with loud and irreverent laughter.

One section of the French Legitimists and “Young England” exhibited this spectacle.

In pointing out that their mode of exploitation was different to that of the bourgeoisie, the feudalists forget that they exploited under circumstances and conditions that were quite different and that are now antiquated. In showing that, under their rule, the modern proletariat never existed, they forget that the modern bourgeoisie is the necessary offspring of their own form of society.

For the rest, so little do they conceal the reactionary character of their criticism that their chief accusation against the bourgeois amounts to this, that under the bourgeois régime a class is being developed which is destined to cut up root and branch the old order of society.

What they upbraid the bourgeoisie with is not so much that it creates a proletariat as that it creates a revolutionary proletariat.

In political practice, therefore, they join in all coercive measures against the working class; and in ordinary life, despite their high-falutin phrases, they stoop to pick up the golden apples dropped from the tree of industry, and to barter truth, love, and honour, for traffic in wool, beetroot-sugar, and potato spirits.†

† This applies chiefly to Germany, where the landed aristocracy and squirearchy have large portions of their estates cultivated for their own account by stewards, and are, moreover, extensive beetroot-sugar manufacturers and distillers of potato spirits. The wealthier British aristocracy are, as yet, rather above that; but they, too, know how to make up for declining rents by lending their names to floaters or more or less shady joint-stock companies. [Note by Engels to the English edition of 1888.]

As the parson has ever gone hand in hand with the landlord, so has Clerical Socialism with Feudal Socialism.

Nothing is easier than to give Christian asceticism a Socialist tinge. Has not Christianity declaimed against private property, against marriage, against the State? Has it not preached in the place of these, charity and poverty, celibacy and mortification of the flesh, monastic life and Mother Church? Christian Socialism is but the holy water with which the priest consecrates the heart-burnings of the aristocrat.

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 1 year ago

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11th February >> Fr. Martin's Homilies / Reflections on Today's Mass Readings (Inc. Mark 1:40-45) for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B: ‘Of course, I want to’.

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B:

Gospel (Except USA) Mark 1:40-45 The leprosy left the man at once, and he was cured.

A leper came to Jesus and pleaded on his knees: ‘If you want to’ he said ‘you can cure me.’ Feeling sorry for him, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him. ‘Of course I want to!’ he said. ‘Be cured!’ And the leprosy left him at once and he was cured. Jesus immediately sent him away and sternly ordered him, ‘Mind you say nothing to anyone, but go and show yourself to the priest, and make the offering for your healing prescribed by Moses as evidence of your recovery.’ The man went away, but then started talking about it freely and telling the story everywhere, so that Jesus could no longer go openly into any town, but had to stay outside in places where nobody lived. Even so, people from all around would come to him.

Gospel (USA) Mark 1:40–45 The leprosy left him, and he was made clean.

A leper came to Jesus and kneeling down begged him and said, “If you wish, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, “I do will it. Be made clean.” The leprosy left him immediately, and he was made clean. Then, warning him sternly, he dismissed him at once.

He said to him, “See that you tell no one anything, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them.”

The man went away and began to publicize the whole matter. He spread the report abroad so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly. He remained outside in deserted places, and people kept coming to him from everywhere.

Homilies (6)

(i) Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Many people find illness quite an isolating experience, especially if their illness is considered contagious. Even when their illness is not contagious, people can feel isolated. Those with a serious illness, in particular, may have a sense that people are uncomfortable around them, because they are not sure what to be saying. The various forms of illness that come with advancing years can also leave people feeling very isolated. As we get older, we can become less mobile. We cannot visit people in the way we used to and we are dependent on people making contact with us. The ideal contact is the personal visit, but even a phone call can make a huge difference to someone who lives alone. In these times technology has enabled people living along to connect with others in ways not possible in the past. They can not only hear loved ones but see them through Skype calls and the like. People of faith can connect with the community of faith at Mass through parish webcams. Yet, social isolation remains a reality for many individuals today, and for whole groups of people.

In the time of Jesus, there was no more isolating illness than the various forms of skin diseases labelled ‘leprosy’. People with this disease had to live apart from the community, because their disease was contagious and the community needed to be protected. In the words of today’s first reading, they must live apart, ‘outside the camp’. Their sense of social isolation was enormous. They also had to live with the added burden of religious isolation. According to the Jewish law, lepers were considered ritually unclean and, therefore, unfit to be in God’s presence in the synagogue or the Temple, even if they kept to themselves. Many lepers would have felt not only abandoned by others but abandoned by God. Cut off from the community and from God, leprosy was considered to be a kind of living death.

In today’s gospel reading, a leper does something that the Jewish Law prohibited at the time. He left his community of lepers to approach someone who was perfectly healthy. He had come to hear about Jesus’ ministry, which was bringing new life to the sick and dying, and new hope to the lost. He came to Jesus and pleaded with him on his knees, saying, ‘If you want to, you can cure me’. The leper doesn’t doubt Jesus’ power to heal him, but he wondered whether Jesus wanted to heal him. Would Jesus want to engage with him, or would he keep his distance, as everyone else would have done? In response to the leper’s plea, Jesus engaged with him in a way that would have surpassed his wildest expectations. Jesus spoke to him, but before he spoke to him Jesus did the unthinkable; he touched him. The touch of Jesus spoke more powerfully than any word Jesus could say. The leper would never have been touched by a healthy person before this. In touching him, Jesus was communicating very powerfully to him that his isolation was at an end. To confirm this good news, Jesus spoke the word that healed him and released him back into the community, ‘Be cured!’ Once cured, not surprisingly, the man went away and started talking about his healing freely, telling the story of what happened to him everywhere, even though Jesus had asked him not to publicize what had happened.

Today’s gospel reading reminds us that no matter how isolated we may feel from others, we need never be isolated from the Lord. Even when others do not want to connect with us for whatever reason, the Lord always wants to touch our lives. ‘If you want to’, the leper said to Jesus, to which he replied, ‘Of course, I want to!’ The Lord wants to seek us out in our isolation, just as he sought out Zacchaeus who was socially and religiously isolated, even though he was physically healthy. Jesus reveals the heart of God, a heart that has room for everyone and wants no one to feel isolated. We can sometimes isolate ourselves from the Lord, like Adam in the Book of Genesis who hid from God. We hide from the Lord because we may feel that we are unfit to be in his presence due to something we have done or failed to do. However, the Lord is always seeking us out in his love, no matter where we find ourselves on our life journey. We will often need something of the courageous faith of the leper in today’s gospel reading, who broke out of his enforced isolation to connect with Jesus. If we approach the Lord as he did, we can be assured of the Lord’s accepting and healing touch. The Lord wants to touch the lives of all those who feel isolated today. Leprosy is not the isolating disease it used to be, but we continue to regard some people as polluting society, as fit only to live apart, in the words of the first reading. The Lord wants to work through all of us to bring people in from the cold, to make them feel they belong in God’s family. This was Jesus’ life mission, to gather together the scattered children of God, and he needs our help to continue that mission today.

And/Or

(ii) Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time.

People who feel isolated appreciate it when someone enters their isolation and tries to connect with them. There are various reasons why people can find themselves isolated. Old age and failing health can make it difficult for people to make the kind of contact with others they deeply desire. That is especially the case if people are house bound. The radio link we have in the parish is one attempt to make contact with people who find it difficult to make contact with us. There is a certain kind of temperament that can leave people somewhat isolated. The shy, retiring, introspective person who finds it difficult to make friends can become very isolated over time. It can be a struggle for others to connect with them. To be a stranger in a land or an environment that is foreign to us can also be a very isolating experience. I’m sure some of our recent immigrants would speak to us of an initial sense of isolation. Any one of us can experience a sense of isolation from time to time. I remember my first weekend in the seminary at the age of 18. It was my first time away from home for any length. The sense of isolation was overwhelming, although it did pass. We may feel isolated even though we are surrounded by people, friends and family. We can be struggling with personal issues that we find very difficult to share with others, even those who are closest to us. In such a situation it can be a great relief to meet someone who is struggling with similar issues.

In the time of Jesus the disease of leprosy left a person totally isolated. If you were a leper, there was no one for company but other lepers. The community needed to protect itself from a highly contagious disease, and the only effective way to do this was to isolate the leper from all forms of human interaction. In that context, the action of Jesus in touching the leper in today’s gospel reading would have been considered subversive. His touching the leper was putting the whole community at risk. A chain is as strong as its weakest link. Here was a weak link, someone who risked the health of the whole community by touching an infected person. If you watch the TV programme you know what happens to the weakest link. They are banished into the darkness; they are treated like lepers. Yet, in touching the leper, Jesus did not in fact infect the community. He healed the leper and, thereby, strengthened the community. In responding to the cry of the leper and in reaching into his isolation, Jesus released him into the community again. Having healed the leper, we are told that Jesus had to stay outside in places where nobody lived. His touching the leper cost him something; he took upon himself something of the leper’s isolation. This kind of ministry would eventually lead Jesus to become totally isolated. He would be crucified ‘outside’ the city where nobody lived, where he would die isolated and alone.

The gospel reading reveals Jesus as someone who desires to enter into our isolation, who seeks to release us from our isolation, even at the cost of experiencing great isolation himself. He continues to enter our experiences of isolation today if, like the leper, we invite him. In the gospel of John Jesus says, ‘Anyone who comes to me, I will never drive away’. When the leper came to Jesus, he half expected to be driven away. This explains his rather tentative request, ‘if you are willing…’ In reply Jesus said, ‘Of course I am willing’. We can be equally tentative in our own approach to the Lord. Like the leper, we may feel unclean in some way. Something in our lives, in our past or in our present, can make us hesitate to draw near to the Lord. We may wonder if the Lord is willing to draw near to us. Yet, there is no part of our lives which the Lord will not gladly touch with his compassionate and life-giving presence. There is nothing in us that would keep him from us. He does not hesitate to touch, even to embrace, those parts of our lives we may consider ugly and infected. It is we who need to rise above our hesitation. The letter to the Hebrews puts it well when it encourages us, ‘Let us approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need’.

The gospel reading encourages us to approach the Lord with the same assurance with which he approaches us. That reading also challenges us to be as alert to those who may be crying out to us in their isolation as Jesus was to the leper. That cry is not always easy to hear, even when it comes from those close to us. It can be subtle and faint. It can be hesitant, as it seeks out whether we are willing. Our own preoccupations can prevent us from hearing it, and can make us hesitate to respond. We may sense that it will cost us something to respond. Yet, to hear and respond can be truly life-giving for the one who cries out to us and for us. We ask the Lord to give us the willingness to heed the cry of those who cry out to us in their isolation.

And/Or

(iii) Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We know from experience that we find it easier to connect with some people than with others. We find ourselves drawn to some individuals and being somewhat put off by others. We can react negatively to some people for a great variety of reasons. Maybe we just do not like the look of them, or we find their personality hard to take, or we have very little sympathy with their views. We probably tend to avoid the people that we find difficult to connect with. We keep them at a distance from us.

In the time of Jesus the leper was someone that no one wanted to connect with. Indeed, the Jewish law required that lepers be kept at a distance from everyone else. Leprosy was a disease that condemned those afflicted by it to a life in which their only company was other lepers. The disease was contagious and the community had to be preserved from infection. In today’s gospel reading the leper leaves his isolation and daringly approaches Jesus, calling out to him on his knees: ‘If you want to, you can cure me’. He was prepared to break the law that condemned him to isolation in order to make contact with Jesus. Clearly the leper did not doubt Jesus’ ability to heal him, ‘you can cure me’. His only doubt was whether Jesus wanted to cure him, ‘if you want to’. In response to the leper, Jesus did the unthinkable. He stretched out his hand and touched him, declaring as he did so, ‘Of course, I want to!’ The man could now return to the community from which he had been isolated. In connecting with the leper, Jesus enabled the leper to connect with everyone else. In touching him, he enabled the leper to touch others.

In touching the leper, Jesus reveals a God who wants to make contact with us in all our brokenness. Jesus was declaring that there is no human life that God cannot touch. Everyone kept a distance from the leper. In touching the leper, Jesus was declaring that God is not like everyone. We may keep our distance from God for various reasons, but God never keeps a distance from us. We may think that because of something we have done in the past, we cannot approach God with confidence. Jesus reveals that God is always ready to approach us, regardless of how we might see ourselves, or how others might see us. Jesus could have healed the leper without touching him. The gospel often depicts Jesus healing people with a word. Yet, in the case of the leper, word was not enough. Touching the leper was a much more tangible sign that God wanted to connect with this man. Jesus makes God tangible as well as audible.

God continues to be tangible as well as audible in the church, the body of the risen Jesus. There is more to the sacraments of the church than words. The sacraments are tangible; they reveal the God who wants to touch us. The water of baptism, the oil of confirmation, the bread and wine of the Eucharist are all tangible signs of God’s presence to us. God wants to touch our lives through his Son. If it does nothing else, the story of Jesus and the leper makes that abundantly clear. The only question is, ‘Do we want God to touch our lives?’ When it comes to God, do we have the passionate daring that the leper shows in today’s gospel reading? Outside the context of family and close friends, we have to be careful with touch nowadays. In particular, many of us are much more hesitant to touch children than we might have been in the past. We know that touch can mean many things. It can be self-serving as well as serving of others. It can be harmful as well as helpful. In the culture of his time, Jesus seemed to be remarkably free when it came to touch. In last Sunday’s gospel reading, he took Simon Peter’s mother in law by the hand and lifted her up; later on in Mark’s gospel he takes Jairus’ daughter by the hand and he takes children up in his arms and lays his hands on them. We are hesitant when it comes to touch because we know of what we are made. Jesus had no need to be hesitant. His touch was always deeply respectful and completely life-giving. Jesus shows us a God who recognizes our infinite value and worth and relates to us accordingly. That is why in the words of the letter to the Hebrews, we can ‘approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need’.

And/Or

(iv) Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

There are many places in Ireland that could be termed isolated. They are away from human habitation. They have their own attractiveness because of their isolation. People from the city like to head off to these isolated places to get away from the hustle and bustle of their normal routine. Many people will have their own favourite isolated spot that they keep returning to. It is not always necessary to travel long distances to find such an isolated spot. For those of us living here in Clontarf, parts of the bull island or of Saint Anne’s park can give us all the isolation we need to get a sense of being away from it all. This is the kind of isolation that we seek out; we look for it because we want it and we feel we need it. When we have had enough of it, we can return to our normal day to day routine with its various demands and schedules.

There are other forms of isolation which we don’t welcome and don’t seek out. When we experience this kind of isolation, we long for someone to enter our isolation and connect deeply with us. Old age can bring on this form of isolation for some. A person’s spouse may have died or they have always been single; family and friends may be very caught up with their own lives. If such a person moves from their home into a nursing home, their sense of isolation can be compounded. Certain forms of illness can bring on this kind of unwelcome and unsought for isolation at any age. People may not visit the person who is ill because they are not sure what to say to them, especially if that person is relatively young.

In the time of Jesus, the most isolating illness was certainly leprosy. The leper lived apart, with only other lepers for company. Lepers were not only distant from the human community, but they were also considered to be distant from God. That is why they were considered ‘unclean’, in the sense of being at the furthest possible remove from the holiness of God. Not only were they not permitted to approach people, but they were given no encouragement to approach God. That makes the portrayal of the leper in this morning’s gospel reading all the more striking. He approaches Jesus, in spite of the fact that the Jewish law forbade him to approach anyone. Here was a leper who was determined to break out of his isolation. We can only presume that he had come to hear of the healing ministry of Jesus, and that is why he approached him. The leper was in no doubt about Jesus’ power to heal him; his only doubt was whether or not Jesus wanted to heal him, ‘You can cure me, if you want to’. Did this man of God want to connect with someone who was ‘unclean’ and beyond the boundary of God’s reach? Jesus’ response to the leper’s statement was unambiguous, ‘Of course I want to. Be cured’. Jesus showed that he had not only the power to heal him but the desire to do so as well. Jesus wanted what God wanted; in the garden of Gethsemane he would pray, ‘not what I want, but what you want’.

In saying, ‘Of course I want to’, Jesus was revealing what God wanted. The leper was wrong to think that he was beyond God’s reach. Jesus reveals that there is no human condition - no human situation - that is beyond the reach of God. There is no ‘out of bounds’ as far as God is concerned; there is no need for anyone to live ‘outside the camp’ in the words of the first reading. There were many categories of people in the time of Jesus who had been led to believe that they were beyond the reach of God. Jesus revealed God to be someone who had no fear of contamination but was comfortable entering into the often murky depths of human existence.

The healing of the leper is the third healing story in Mark’s gospel. In the first healing story, Jesus healed a man by means of his word. Presumably, Jesus could have healed the leper just with a word, ‘Be cured’. Yet, Jesus chose to stretch out his hand and touch the leper. Such was the nature of this man’s isolation that more than a word was needed to show that his isolation was over. He needed to be touched, to be held. It was against the Jewish law to touch a leper, because of the risk of being contaminated and contaminating the whole community. However, Jesus knew that God’s power at work within him could never be contaminated by the human condition. The power of life, of God’s life, within Jesus was stronger that the power of death within the leper. Jesus reveals a God who wants to touch our lives in a life-giving way, regardless of how broken or ugly or hopeless our lives might seem to us or to others. The Lord not only speaks his word to us; he connects with each of us in ways that are concrete and personal.

And/Or

(v) Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We all feel a need to connect with others, to be in communion with others. We don’t like to feel isolated or cut off from family, friends, or the wider community. One of the most challenging aspects of sickness or physical disability can be the isolation that it brings. When we are ill or our body grows weak we cannot take the same initiative we used to take to connect with others. People can become housebound because of their physical condition; the things they used to do to meet up with others are no longer possible. Certain forms of illness can be more isolating than others. The most isolating form of illness in the time of Jesus was leprosy. For hygienic reasons, lepers had to live apart, ‘outside the camp’, in the words of today’s first reading. Lepers were only allowed to have each other for company. They lived apart from their family, their friends and the community to which they belonged.

The leper in today’s gospel reading seemed determined to break out of his isolation. He did something that was unconventional and daring in approaching Jesus and pleading with him, ‘If you want to, you can cure me’. His desperation to be healed of an illness that kept him totally isolated drove him to do something that was against the Jewish Law at the time. In response to the leper’s daring approach, Jesus did something just as unconventional. He reached out his hand and touched the leper. If it was forbidden for a leper to approach the healthy, it was certainly forbidden for a healthy person to touch a leper. It seems that the leper’s desire to be freed from his isolation was met by an equally strong desire on the part of Jesus to deliver the leper from his isolation. The gospels portray Jesus as someone who worked to deliver people from their isolation, whether it is an isolation imposed by illness, as in the case of the leper, or by their lifestyle, as in the case of someone like Zacchaeus.

Both the person of Jesus and of the leper have something to say to us about steps we can take to connect with people, to break out of our isolation, even when the odds seem to be stacked against us. We can all be tempted from time to time to retreat into our shell, whether it is because of our health or some disability or some past experience that has drained us of life. It is at such times that we need something of the initiative and daring energy of the leper. There can come a time when, like the leper, we need to take our courage in our own hands and, against the conventional expectation, to head out in some bold direction. It was desperation that drove the leper to seek out Jesus. Sometimes for us too, it can be our desperation that finally gets us going, gets us to connect with that person who matters to us and to whom we matter more than we realize or that gets us to link up with some gathering or some group that has the potential to do us good or maybe even to transform our lives. Sometimes I can be amazed at the initiatives that some people take to connect with others, people who are much less healthier than I am and are much less physically able. I come across it all the time in the parish, such as older people who have mastered the internet and have come completely at home with Skype; younger people who in spite of some serious disability have found the means to live a very full life in the service of others. The man in today’s gospel reading who approaches Jesus could well be the patron saint of all those who strive to connect with others against all the odds.

Unlike the leper, Jesus was perfectly healthy, yet, like the leper, he had something of the same desire and energy to connect with others. When Jesus was approached by the leper, he could have run away, as most people would have done. Instead, he stood his ground and engaged with the leper. He engaged with him not only by word but by action. He not only spoke to the leper, but he touched him. Jesus often healed people by means of his word alone; but this man who had suffered from extreme isolation needed to be touched. Jesus did more than was asked of him; he took an initiative that was as daring as the leper’s initiative towards him. He went as far as any human being could possibly go to deliver this man from his isolation. What the Lord did for the leper he wishes to continue doing through each one of us today. There are many isolated and lonely people among us. The scope is there for all of us to take the kind of step that Jesus took towards the leper. Again, I can see examples of that in the parish all the time, such as people who look in on neighbours and make sure that they are all right and have what they need. There are always people among us waiting to be touched by our compassionate presence. When they are, they can experience the same kind of transformation as the leper did in today’s gospel reading.

And/Or

(vi) Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

One of the more distressing impacts of the Coronavirus for many people has been the experience of social isolation. People in nursing homes and hospitals in recent months have felt especially isolated. I have a friend, a woman in her nineties, who was in hospital for several months before and after Christmas and, for perfectly understandable reasons, no one could visit her. I am sure that many others in the parish have had a similar experience with their loved ones or friends in hospital or nursing homes. Hopefully, we can begin to look forward to a time when we can interact with one another in a more natural and human way.

In the time of Jesus, leprosy was the most isolating of all diseases. In the words of today’s first reading, the leper had to live ‘outside the camp’, away from the normal places where people interact. If for some reason, the leper drew near to people, the Jewish law stipulated that they had to announce their coming, shouting, ‘Unclean, unclean’, so people could move away from them as quickly as possible. Not only were lepers socially isolated, but they were religiously isolated. They couldn’t come to the local synagogue to join in the Sabbath service. What we find the leper doing in today’s gospel reading then is all the more remarkable. He breaks out of his isolation to approach Jesus, going against the stipulations of the religious law of the time. Why did he so something so unconventional? Presumably, he had heard of the reputation of Jesus as one who proclaimed God’s rule of love by healing the sick and welcoming the excluded. The words of the leper to Jesus show that he was in no doubt as to Jesus’ power to heal him, ‘you can cure me’. Yet, he wasn’t sure that Jesus wanted to heal him, ‘If you want to, you can cure me’. When people have been living in isolation for a long time, they can begin to doubt whether people really want to connect with them. They may begin to wonder if anyone out there really cares enough to lessen their isolation.

If the leper had approached others as he approached Jesus, they would have promptly moved away. However, the leper suspected that Jesus might be different. Here is someone, he hoped, whose ways are not our ways. How did Jesus react to the leper? The emotion ascribed to Jesus in the gospel reading suggests a deeply rooted, gut wrenching, reaction to the leper, a mixture of anger and compassion, anger at what this disease had done to the quality of this man’s life, and a compassionate desire to change his situation for the better. This deep seated, emotional, response to the man finds expression in the words Jesus spoke to him, ‘Of course I want to. Be cured!’ It would have been enough for Jesus to say, ‘Be cured!’ for the man to be healed. In the gospels, Jesus frequently heals people with his authoritative word. However, on this occasion, Jesus does the unthinkable. Having spoken to the leper, he then touched him. Once Jesus touched him, the leper must have realized that he was being released from his isolation. We might wonder how long it had been since the leper had felt the touch of another human being. A certain understanding of God’s law had excluded him from the community of the living and left him on the threshold of a kind of death. However, by that touch, Jesus was revealing that this is not what God wanted for him. The touch of Jesus was the touch of God. Jesus reveals a God who does not exclude anyone. Jesus shows that in the heart of God there is room for everyone, especially for those who have been made to feel that they do not belong. Sometimes our religious laws and institutions exclude people, but Jesus reveals a God who wants to touch the lives of all in a healing and life-giving way. Jesus’ whole ministry displays God to be one who works to demolish the boundaries that seek to keep some people safe at the expense of leaving others out in the cold.

Leprosy is not the frightening disease today that it was in the time of Jesus, as it can be treated and cured. Yet, in every age, society has a tendency to decide who is acceptable and who is out of favour. We continue to relegate some people to the side-lines for a whole variety of reasons, perhaps because we seem them as a threat to us or as a burden on us or just because they are different from us. I am often struck by that saying of Jesus in John’s gospel, ‘When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself’. Having been lifted up on the cross and lifted up in glory, the risen Lord continues his work of drawing all people to himself today. The gospel reading today raises the question of what Jesus wants. I think we can say with certainty that today the risen Lord wants to work through each one of us to rescue people from their sense of isolation. He wants the miracle of today’s gospel reading to become a contemporary reality, through our willingness to befriend those who are isolated or who find themselves on the margins of acceptablity for whatever reason.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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ignitedfms · 6 months ago

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[ yim siwan, demi-man, he/they ] Look who just landed! DAESUNG SHIN (SH-1N V4.5), I sure hope you packed all you need. Perhaps you’re not worried as SCIENTIST of X ACADEMY. The city has plenty of spots for a 32 year old ANDROID like you. You’ll be known in the city soon enough as THE DOUBLE EDGED SWORD, being AFFABLE and ABSENTMINDED. ( anna, 26, gmt+7, removed for discretion )

00000 - - INTERVIEW INCOMING - - - 001

001101 1- - ARE you A LOCAL OF MARS OR HAVE you LANDED HERE RECENTLY? WHAT IS your OPINION OF THE CITY OF NEW JAKARTA? - 00011011

-- RISK ASSESSMENT IN PROGRESS ... [ 100% COMPLETED ] -- IMMINENT THREAT DETECTED? ... [ 01001110 ] -- ACTIVATE HYDE PROTOCOL? ... [ 01001110 ]

Daesung blinked, their wandering mind wired back to the present. Did they zone out out of bad habit or jitters, Daesung wasn't sure, though that didn't stop them from cursing themselves for spacing out. Not that they were here because they were in trouble. This was a harmless, run-off-the-mill background check. Still, as the officer looked up from her screen (one that Daesung could only guess showcased their personal data and documents) the sharp gaze made them wonder if she'd slam the table and yell at him for being suspicious like in one of those sinetrons.

Now what was the first thing she had asked— something, something landed recently?

“I did not land here recently, no,” they said slowly, just to test the waters. When the officer’s face remained impassive, Daesung took it as a sign to continue. “I was born and raised in NEW JAKARTA. Or well, at least, that's what the folks at the orphanage put on my document.” They smiled sheepishly. “No one really knew where I came from. Though from what I was told, I was really tiny when they found me which would make interplanet travels impossible. So, I suppose it was a pretty fair assumption.” They shrugged. “Either way, it's the only home I know of, and I do quite like the city. Sure, there are still a lot of things we could improve on, but I'm of the opinion that new and innovative solutions will come with more scientific and technological advances.”

0101022 - - ARE you AWARE OF THE CRIMINAL CIRCUIT OF NEW JAKARTA? WOULD you BE WILLING TO INFORM THE OVERSEERS IF you SEE ANYTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY? - 001200

"Yes, I'm well aware of their exist," Daesung replied with a nod. I try to keep up with the current happenings from the news and other social platforms, but that's the extent of my knowledge on them."

It was a true enough answer, if not a tad bit glossed over. After all, Daesung had grown up in AKUMU SLUMS and it was hard not to notice the dealings happening in shadows of every streets and alleys. Oddly enough, the overheard conversation on drug dealing behind a street food stall was an easier memory for Daesung to recall than naming he games they used to play with the rest of the kids in the orphanage, the people who had taken care of them at that age.

"I'd like to think I can keep myself as far away from any kinds of trouble. But yes, I see no reason why I shouldn't report in anything suspicious.”

000111311 - - HAVE you BEEN TESTED FOR ANY TRACES OF SIGHIR? HAVE your TESTS ON THE VIRUSES COME BACK CLEAN? - - 0012133

“Of course,” Daesung nodded. “I've submitted everything for your review. All tests were conducted fairly recent...”

They paused for a moment, brows furrowing slightly. They couldn't remember when he had taken the test or even the time he had made the appointment to do it. Daesung shook their head, as if that was what it takes to shake off their mind fog. But when their recollection remained hazy, they simply continued, “The date should be printed there if you need the exact information, but I don't possess any affinity for SIGHIR. Results for the viruses are perfectly clean as well.”

0113114 - - DO you HAVE ANYTHING TO DECLARE? WEAPONS, AUGMENTATIONS, MECHANICAL PARTS OR AI-RELATED APERTURE? - 0012444

"I own no weapon, nor anything else that could be classified as hazardous, no,“ Daesung said with a shake of their head. “And I haven't undergone any augmentations procedures.” Then, with a small frown, “Well, unless you count a skin graft procedure, which was uh, medically necessary.”

When the overseer asked them to elaborate, Daesung hadn't been surprised. Still, it didn't stop the uneasiness from clawing out from their chest either. No matter how hard they tried to lock it in the deepest recesses of their mind, it was one of the only memory from their youth that they had remembered vividly. “It was after the accident,” they explained. “The big fire at an orphanage over a decade ago.” In that moment, Daesung saw something clicked with the overseer. She looked away from her screen, and Daesung hated how the pity in her eyes weighed heavy on them. They shifted in their seat, trying to maintain their composure. “I suffered from severe burns on my body and had new skin grafted as part of the treatment.” Then, with a wry smile, “So yeah, other than a thicker skin in the most literal sense, I have no other modifications to report.”

#ignitedinterview #crime rp #plot driven rp #literate rp #semi appless rp #fantasy rp #lsrp #city rp #new rp #mature rp

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nwodsecondchances2e · 1 year ago

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Stigmatic Herald (Demon-Beast Crossover)

Andrew Miller has seen a lot of shit after over three decades of life as a stigmatic. He’s met most of the other things lurking in London’s shadows, been a part of nearly a dozen cults, murdered Unchained, fought alongside Agencies he’d previously tried to kill and made a name for himself among mortal occultists who have no idea what else is out there. He has one unshakable belief that guides everything he does: the conviction that the God-Machine is broken.

Andrew’s first encounter with the supernatural had actually been with the Begotten, although exposure to the God-Machine’s gears is what ensured his life would never be normal. As far as Andrew figures, there isn’t a good reason for demons and angels to be so antithetical to Beasts. They are both occult forces, and while grounded in different principles, Andrew ultimately believes in a unified reality. His hypothesis is that the God-Machine is out of sync with the rest of the occult universe, which is why Beasts react poorly to it and is the cause for its seemingly contradictory directives. It has taken years of preparation, but he feels he is finally in a position to do something about it.

Andrew wormed his way into the good graces of Ida Max, an Inguma Tyrant whose Horror reflected the fear of impossibly human-like machines. Andrew pushed Ida towards expanding her Lair and Legend in ways reflecting technology and machinery. While Ida couldn't develop Family Ties with the Unchained or the God-Machine’s angels, Andrew helped her forge bonds with other stigmatics, psychics, and stranger beings touched by the God-Machine. When Ida created her cult, Andrew became her Herald and began executing his plan. While Ida is more physically powerful than Andrew, he knows how to run a cult while making her feel like she is in control.

Now, Andrew is in the final phases of his plan. He’s started pushing Ida towards Inheritance, and while he’d prefer she become an Incarnate, an Unfettered or Rampart would also serve his purposes. As much as Andrew genuinely appreciates Ida, she has always been a means to an end for him. If he must sacrifice her to heal God, so be it.

If Andrew could still pass as an ordinary human, he’d look plain. Messy black hair, a body that’s gone slightly to seed, and a face that refuses to stand out all help blend in with a crowd. They also disguise his powerful, magnetic personality. When Andrew talks, he makes you believe whatever he is saying, regardless of how far-fetched it sounds. Between his stigmata and Ida’s influence over her Herald, Andrew lands solidly within the uncanny valley these days. His skin is slightly matte and rubbery, giving those who look at it the impression it is synthetic rather than organic. The veins under his skin are silvery rather than blue, appearing far more like circuitry than a circulatory system. His voice is distorted and synthetic like it is coming through a bad radio or an autotuner that’s gone too far.

Legend: Relentless Life: Selfless Aspirations: Recruit new cultists, Convince Ida to undergo Inheritance, Fix the God-Machine Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 3; Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 2; Presence 4, Manipulation 5, Composure 2 Skills: Academics 1 (Religion), Computers 4, Crafts 4, Occult 3 (Cults), Politics 2, Science 2; Drive 2, Firearms 2, Larceny 1; Empathy 3 (Emotional Weaknesses), Intimidation 1, Persuasion 4, Socialize 2, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 5 Merits: Anonymity 1, Aura Reading, Eidetic Memory (Advanced), Fast Reflexes 3 (Advanced), Omen Sensitivity, Unseen Sense (God-Machine), Unseen Sense (Primordial Dream) Health: 7 Willpower: 5 Integrity: 4 Size: 5 Speed: 9 Defence: 2 Initiative: +7 (include Fast Reflexes)

#chronicles of darkness #beast the primoridal #demon the descent #rpg inspriation

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almostcolorfulcolor · 2 years ago

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Death Note, meet Supernatural- CHAPTER 1

Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader, L (Death Note)/Original Female Character(s)

Summary: What if Death Note existed in a world with Winchesters in it? Would L finally have the evidence he needs to prove Light is Kira? How will L fare in a world where monsters are real and not every case is solvable by him? Lucky for him, there's a hunter here to work side-by-side with him.

Chapter Summary: With data from L's investigation, it wouldn't have taken long for a hunter to find the mystery of Death Note, find the Shinigami and Kira, and ganking them both. If you're curious about how it plays out, read on!

Chapter 1: Japan, here I come!

I open my burning eyes. Tears blur my vision as I try to forget the images from my latest nightmare. My boys…my poor boys…“I will bring you both back”, I promise…for over the 100th time. Shaking off my thoughts, I get ready for the day mentally ticking off my checklist for my trip to Japan. The first truly big nuisance since Dick Roman, this Kira, was killing off criminals left and right.

It was not my typical case but something about Kira’s requirements of killing was supernatural. He needed a name and face to kill. With just those, he could kill anyone from anywhere. Which human could do that? And even if they could, the means had to be supernatural. Perhaps they made a demon deal, or Kira used a cursed object. Not only that, there was perhaps someone else with Kira’s power who only needed a face to kill. 3 Japanese police officers dropped dead during a TV broadcast- names unknown.

The world’s security agencies were stumped. The number 1 detective in the world, L, was working on it but even he hadn’t been able to put a stop to Kira's killings till now. I could only assume it was because of the supernatural factor. Which made it my responsibility. What the hell those Japanese hunters were doing I didn’t know- and I couldn’t find out because not many hunters trusted my little Team Free Will after the whole opening of the Devil’s Gate, starting the Apocalypse and releasing the Leviathans into the world. Couldn’t blame them tbh.

It did make this whole investigation pretty hard though. If only Sam was here…This was my problem. I had become so tangled up with the Winchesters that it was impossible for me to not think about them for more than 10 minutes. I was on my own now. Alone. A lone wolf. And I was about to feel like absolute shit once I landed in Japan and my social awkwardness came out to play in a foreign country whose language I wasn't familiar with. Fingers crossed.

—One plane ride later—

First stop, Wakoucha at the airport cafe. Overpriced but worth every yen. After a couple of sips, I got my bearings and hauled ass to the hotel the FBI director set me up at. Presidential suite, of course. Exorcising a demon outta his brother would go a long way.

A ping on my laptop draws my attention. A video call from the guy himself. Answering it, I say, “Hey, I just got to—” when he makes a shushing gesture. I pipe down, curious to see what he’s on about. He holds up a piece of paper for me to read. Surprisingly, I can read it perfectly. Which means someone must have taken the pain to write it inverted. There’s no doubt what it is. At my nod, he promptly sets fire to the paper with a lighter, gives me a thumbs up and ends the call.

Well, then. No time to waste.

I change into the charming suit that makes me look like a cinnamon roll, idiots never see it coming when I gank them. All geared up I go to my FBI-issued car (I miss Baby) and head up to meet the famous L and the officially “disbanded” taskforce.

—Time Skip—

The building is quite ordinary from the outside. The same old grey skyscraper with the corporate soul-sucking vibe. Somewhere inside there is a group of people with whom I will be catching a killer with supernatural powers. L’s right-hand man was informed of my arrival and he was waiting for me right as I step in the doors. He’s completely covered from head to toe so that I cannot even get one glimpse of his skin. The only thing I can say is he’s tall. The dude’s just standing there until I clear my throat and speak, “Verification?”. Nodding, he starts-“Jefferson” and I finish-“Starship”.

Codes confirmed, he wordlessly leads me down the lobby. The security inside is no joke. When the detectors beep, he gestures to me to upturn my pockets. Knowing there’s no way out of this, I take out the couple of guns and knives I had on me. He even confiscates my mobile phone. The holy water’s filled in a disposable plastic bottle so I can easily take it past the checkpoint. No way I could’ve broken in here on my own. I can’t help but feel like a dumb kid who doesn’t know the hell she’s doing. Before, with Sam and Dean, it was just natural to feel confident and self-assured. I try to channel some of that right now and attempt to make conversation. “Call me Anne (Pick your fake name). Pleased to meet you. How’s the case coming along sir? Any new leads since we last talked?” To my credit, my voice only wavers for 5 seconds max. The guy gives me a side glance but doesn’t respond. Not to be discouraged any more than I already am, I barrel on. “So I’ve been following this case like everybody and I already have a couple of theories- I can’t share them yet- but I’d like to ask you something about L. I’ve heard he’s a bit…moody and I don’t want to butt heads with him on the investigation or make him feel like I’m taking over. Any words of advice on how to make this smooth sailing?”

Silence. Fine then. I’ve already given too much power to him. Now it’s time to be all tough and laconic myself. We take the elevator and stop several floors up. My heart is fluttering as a tall dude leads me to a set of doors and just throws them open. Every head snaps my way. Well, shit.

I flashback to 1st grade when I changed schools. The teacher was mean and made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I hated her then and I hate the tall dude now. I turn to glare at him to find out he’s already left. Turning to face my audience, I wave and give a sheepish smile. I know I just look like a dork. God, what’s wrong with me? When did I suddenly become a schoolgirl? These guys will never take me seriously now. Damn it.

I jump when a voice pulls me out of my self-criticism, “Who are you? How did you get in?” It’s a guy about Bo…60 years old pointing a gun at me. Nearly everyone is except a couple of boys. I start to answer but another voice cuts me off. A warm, gravelly, soothing voice. “She’s our newest member.” It takes me a moment to realize the speaker is this cute little weirdo sitting in a big chair in front of a gigantic screen. Seriously, just wow. A moment of appreciation is required here. This guy is soooooo cute. I drink in his features- his big bambi eyes, his chaotic raven hair that I long to feel, his perfect mouth as he pops in a marshmall- “We have to tolerate her for now as the FBI has forced her upon us”, the said mouth pipes up. And just like that my fantasies take a sharp turn and I see my fist connecting with his teeth and his perfect mouth bloody.

Feeling sufficiently insulted, I snark back, “Shut the hell up, asshole. Like I’m thrilled to be forced to work with a bunch of incompetent jackasses who haven’t been able to catch a pathetic killer in months. The headquarters had to send in a babysitter to mind the greatly overrated L. Make sure you give me the case report before you choke to death stuffing your cakehole and do Kira’s work for him.”

His eyes narrow and I ain’t backing down. Let’s show him who’s boss.

A/N:

Thanks for reading my first work! More chapters to come- I've got the plot ready, hope you enjoy it :)

(Please reblog and comment if you please- they fuel my passion. Constructive criticism and genuine praise always help too!)

Until next time! CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

#l lawliet #l death note #l lawliet x reader #l x reader #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #hunter reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #light yagami #misa amane #death note fanfiction #death note anime #death note oc

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eduplaytherapy · 3 months ago

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Title: Empowering Children with ADHD, Autism, and Learning Disorders Through Play Therapy

Introduction

Every child with special developmental needs, such as ADHD, autism, or learning disorders, faces specific challenges in the typical school and therapy settings. In the last few decades, special education has been incredibly creative, incorporating some fresh therapies, and the best one among them is play therapy. It is the type of therapy through which children can express themselves, learn social and cognitive skills, and develop emotionally in the course of play itself.

This blog post shall attempt to outline how the play therapy now helps kids suffering from ADHD, Autism, and multiple kinds of learning disorders toward further success in both academic life as well as personal growth.

What Is Play Therapy?

Play therapy is a particular kind of therapy where play is the tool through which children are given an opportunity to work on their emotions, to convey their needs, and to face problems in a protected setting with a clear outline. It is helpful for those children who are unable to speak or not mature enough to be involved in ordinary talk therapy.

Why Choose Play Therapy?

Play therapy is very effective because it strikes at the very core of a child's natural way of learning and relating to the world. In this therapeutic play, children are engaged in highly structured activities designed by therapists that help support cognitive, social, and emotional development. Children can learn to do many things through play, such as:

- Emotional awareness

- Better social relationships

Improve on problem-solving capabilities

- Confident

Play therapy flexibility can cater to a variety of needs and developmental challenges, hence making it effective for children with ADHD, autism, and other learning disorders.

Supporting ADHD with Play Therapy

Children with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder normally suffer from having a hard time with impulsive control, problems concerning focus, and the handling of their emotions. He or she might experience its worst state in a much more typical setting since they easily get drowned out or unnoticed. This is why there is an opportunity for more favorable means like play therapy where he or she may utilize the excess energy positive and concurrently build up key skills.

Benefits of Play Therapy for ADHD

1. Increasing Focus: Engaging children in activities that require attention and planning will enhance concentration and focus over time.

2. Self-Control: During structured play, a child is expected to wait, reflect and think before acting.

3. Social skills: The child develops sharing, turn-taking, and co-operating skills from playing.

4. Building Confidence: Completion of activities in play therapy is a success experience for children and, therefore, builds up their self-esteem.

Play therapy is an engaging, hands-on activity through which self-discipline and control can be developed in children with ADHD to have a better impact on their daily interactions and academic performance.

Autism and Play Therapy

Children with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) suffer from difficulties in communication, social interactions, and emotions. Through play therapy, children with autism can now have a safe and friendly place to play where such skills can be learned and practiced with the guidance of a professional therapist.

Benefits of Play Therapy for Children with Autism

1. Enhancing Communication Skills: Games and activities will be provided to enhance linguistic usage and non-verbal signals that are typically impossible for the child with ASD to use.

2. Social Skill Improvement: Activities are geared to helping children to have a taste of interaction with other individuals, such as taking turns and learning how to decipher social messages.

3. Sensory Integration: Many of the autistic children become sensitive to their sense; thus, play therapy might make use of material friendly for the senses so that the child may enjoy diverse touch, sound, and sight at his/her comfortable speed.

4. Emotional Expression: Through role-playing and symbolic play, children with autism can learn to better recognize and express their feelings.

Play therapy is a systematic way for children with autism to engage in the process of emotional and social concepts so that they can have a better understanding of themselves and others.

Addressing Learning Disorders Through Play Therapy

Learning disorders, especially dyslexia, dysgraphia, and dyscalculia, make it really hard for children to fulfill the expectations of general school settings. Pressure or frustration from learning disorders leads a child to have low self-esteem as well as anxiety, creating barriers to success in his school life. Play therapy creates a non-threatening place for children to develop their cognitive abilities as well as motor skills to replace the pressure of other assessment tools.

What Are the Benefits of Using Play Therapy with Children that have Learning Disorders?

1. Development of Cognitive Skills: Puzzle games, memory tasks, and problem-solving activities improve memory, concentration, and analytical thinking.

2. Anxiety Reducer: Play therapy is different from traditional academic settings, where performance pressure is absent, thus reducing stress and anxiety.

3. Development of Motor Skills: Fine motor activities, such as drawing or building, enhance these skills in a fun and engaging manner.

4. Confidence Builder: Children, therefore, will be able to perform better in schools with confidence knowing they can exhibit their skills.

Play therapy provides a chance for children with learning disorders to overcome academic and cognitive impairments through pleasurable activities that promote growth and self-confidence.

Special Education in Play Therapy

Such special education programs have embraced play therapy among others, due to the fact that such special students with ADHD, autism, and learning disorders may receive a supportive therapeutic atmosphere through which children are able to be equipped with means of coping with various kinds of problems on social, emotional, and cognitive planes.

Individualized learning experiences empower children through play therapy and special education, addressing the specific needs and learning styles of each child.

Why EduPlay Therapy?

EduPlay Therapy is a cutting-edge organization with specially designed play-based therapeutic programs specifically designed for children with ADHD, autism, and other learning challenges. Their programs ensure that each child learns in a nurturing environment and therefore grows at their own pace.

1. Tailor-made Plans: The developmental needs of each child dictate their particular plan.

2. Therapists with experience: EduPlay Therapy offers therapies involving experienced therapists who are professionally trained in working with children with diverse developmental needs.

3. Parent Participation: EduPlay Therapy actively invites parents to participate in the therapeutic process and enables them with the tools and know-how for them to sustain their child's development when they are not present at the therapy session.

EduPlay Therapy combines play therapy with special education techniques and offers a comprehensive approach through which children can learn skills that will be helpful for both school and life.

Conclusion

Play therapy has revolutionized special education for children with ADHD, autism, and learning disorders in the field. The curriculum by play therapy creates a safe and entertaining environment for self-expression and growth, which helps the students develop emotionally, socially, as well as cognitively. EduPlay Therapy is a pioneer that ensures children gain confidence and expertise to overcome their challenges and differences.

With time, and with the benefits of play therapy gaining recognition more and more children will be able to benefit from it, and so will more tools be given to grow them into resilient, capable individuals

refrence taken from- https://medium.com/@ss.eduplay/title-empowering-children-with-adhd-autism-and-learning-disorders-through-play-therapy-53a717345ed5

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independentartistbuzz · 3 months ago

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7 from the Women: Kate McDonnell

Kate McDonnell’s sixth album, TRAPEZE, is a captivating exploration of contemporary American life, weaving together themes of hope, self-discovery, love, and loss with an unmistakable sense of humor and resilience. Following the success of her 2021 album Ballad of a Bad Girl, TRAPEZE marks a bold evolution in her songwriting, offering 14 original tracks written over a prolific three years. The album’s songs strike with raw, cathartic truth, and their melodies become instant earworms, balancing sophisticated production with deeply personal reflections.

In TRAPEZE, Kate delves into universal topics—from confronting life’s purpose and overcoming self-sabotage, to surrendering to love and desire amidst chaotic times. Tracks like "Nowhere to Go" and "You Won’t Blow Away" capture the introspective journey of navigating anger and sadness, while songs like "All On My Own" and "Pretty Good Day" offer poignant moments of resilience, humor, and simple joys. Kate’s commentary on societal issues is felt in songs like "Step Right Up," where she powerfully addresses the impact of gun violence on children’s lives.

Recorded in the winter of 2024 by Jimi Woodul, TRAPEZE features a tight-knit band with Sam Zucchini (drums) and James Gascoyne (bass) rounding out Kate’s musical vision. The album's vibrant production, mixed by Andrew Oedel and mastered by Chris Muth, provides the perfect backdrop for Kate’s dynamic storytelling. Notably, Kate continues her unique approach to guitar playing—using upside-down-and-backwards techniques, adding another layer of individuality to her artistry.

With a career spanning decades, Kate’s journey has seen her open for musical legends, play at iconic venues like the Newport Folk Festival and Kennedy Center, and tour extensively across the U.S. and Europe. Now, as TRAPEZE takes flight, Kate is gearing up for another round of performances, bringing her new music to audiences both at home and abroad.

Join us as we chat with Kate, below.

1. What Have You Been Working To Promote Lately?(here you can showcase a track, an EP or a video – give us at least 150 words about it and a link)

I’ve just released my sixth album TRAPEZE. The fourteen original songs are rooted in contemporary American life, where hope, love and desire are never very far from the shadow of violence and loss. As a singer-songwriter, my goal is to combine music and lyrics in a way that makes you catch your breath, see yourself in a new way, understand something new. Of all my albums, this one’s production feels accessible to a wider audience—from Folk to Americana to Adult Contemporary and even Pop. For these new songs I wanted a fresh and sophisticated production, and I think we nailed it, me and my producer Jimi Woodul. Jimi can play almost any instrument, too. He’s the garam masala of the album.

Some of the songs bring up the rough feelings people can’t always express. I want listeners to understand they absolutely are not alone in having these thoughts. Our current isolation on social media and the obsession with a positive “brand” are not what we need as humans. This is no ordinary time.

2. Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you

It’s nearly impossible to choose one song, but Bonnie Raitt’s Grammy-winning song “Just Like That” had me on the first few chords. Her story is simple and direct, and the twist in the narrative just pushed me off the cliff. You get the sense that she’s sitting on your couch playing it right to you, delivered with ache and experience. Just spectacular writing and spare music so well matched to the lyrics, it’s a perfect song.

3. What does it mean to you to be a woman making music/in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music?

I’m excited to see the spotlight is shining more on women these days in the music business. Growing up in the 70s, I saw women like Joni Mitchell, Nancy Wilson, Christine McVie, women who were taken seriously as songwriters and instrumentalists, rightfully so. Nowadays, the level of musicianship among women is much higher than it was when I was starting to play.

When you talk about themes and messages, I feel like when I write about my own experience the message naturally rings true with the listener. My album’s title song TRAPEZE explores the voices inside of us that dominate our true voice, that voice deep inside that’s buried alive under layers of ‘shoulds.’ I take the responsibility seriously of telling the truth about my inner life, and that’s what connects these songs to the listener.

4 Additional Questions – Choose any 4

What female artists have inspired you and influenced you?

Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Bonnie Raitt, Rickie Lee Jones, Amalia Rodriguez, Cesária Évora, Jo Stafford, Sarah Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday…..I could go on!

Who was the first female artist that made you want to create music / be in the business?

Joan Baez. I saw a record in my mother’s record collection with her on the cover, and I thought, “oh she’s so pretty, she must sound pretty”—assumptions heavily engraved by society—so I put the needle down, and that was that. I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. It was a profound and magical time when I discovered her at the age of 4.

What was the most challenging thing you have had to face as a female artist?

Sticking up for myself, feeling like I have to be nice all the time and submitting to others’ wishes have reared their ugly heads. I avoid conflict, and that just can’t be a missing skill for anybody in any business, but especially the music business. A good friend, a man, once told me that I was too nice, and that’s why I wasn’t further ahead in my career. That was a gut punch. And it was true.

If you could collaborate with any other female artists, who would you choose?

If I could reach back in time, I would want to collaborate with Jo Stafford. I love the texture of her voice and razer accuracy of her pitch and vibrato, not to mention her emotional control in her delivery. She’s right up there with many of the other greats, but there is something about her as a person who would make the whole experience easy, fun, inspiring, but also very humbling. She has a terrific sense of humor and confidence—she recorded an album “Cocktails for Two” with her piano-playing husband Paul Weston and sang all of the songs off key, on purpose! I mean, who would do that?! That would be the pitch-perfect Jo Stafford.

#Spotify

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 months ago

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SO I BOUGHT IT, BUT BY DOING LABS AND PROBLEM SETS

As I've written before, one byproduct of technical progress is that things we like tend to become more addictive. The job of your site is to convert casual visitors into users—whatever your definition of a user is.1 Looking just at existing competitors can give you a false sense of security. But it needs to be cut still further.2 But unlike serfs they had an incentive to create a lot of ambitious people, age 20 is not the sort of wealth that becomes self-perpetuating through an alliance with power.3 An undergrad who gets something published feels like a star. So if you made it impossible to get rich. And historically the number of people who can be employed in an economy consisting of big, slow-moving companies with a couple thousand people each.4 So if you want to stay there, instead of letting foreigners take these jobs, we should expect its shortness to take us by surprise. But they won't install them, or take support calls, administer the servers, design the web site, cold-call customers, find the company office space, and go out and get everyone lunch. But that disobedience is a byproduct of the qualities that make them good programmers. Closely related to poverty is lack of social mobility.5

Over time, the powers that be were cooperating to develop the official next generation operating system, Multics. If startups are the first to go. Relentlessly prune bullshit, don't wait to do things that matter, then 2 work on problems you can treat formally, rather than something generated by doing what other people have in their heads. But that, I now believe, is like a runner asking If I'm such a good athlete, why do I have to live at home, I have no money, I have no trouble imagining that one person could be 100 times as much. Kids help.6 And the way to do that is to implement it. That's how the two are related: they're the two different senses in which the x axis represented situations and the y axis the outcome, the graph of the smart person would have high peaks. If these guys were able to do: find a question that makes the world interesting.7 If you're the rare exception—a company that has raised money is literally more valuable.8 So students who want to eliminate economic inequality, we won't fix these problems.

It's for a more practical reason: to prevent them from leaning their company against something that's going to fall over, taking them with it. How to start a startup. Put in time how and on what? When you travel to a rich or poor country, you have to spend a lot of people use them for that purpose. He succeeded despite being a complete noob at startups, because he understood his users really well.9 There's not even a tradeoff here. If an ordinary employee were asked to do the things a startup founder is not some sort of new, vocational version of college focused on entrepreneurship. Eliminating great variations in wealth without preventing people from getting rich, and you can even work on your own stuff while you're there. Errands are so effective at killing great projects that a lot of people to ask themselves about this explicitly. It should be a pencil, not a piece of cake in the fridge, and you willingly give him money in return for government contracts, or rich parents who get their children into good colleges by sending them to expensive schools designed for that purpose. After my mother died, I wished I'd spent more time with her. You have to make a cup of coffee.10

Notes

The shift in power to founders. You're going to be some formal measure that you should.

One YC founder told me they like the bizarre stuff. Confucius claimed proudly that he could just multiply 101 by 50 to get something for which you are.

In practice the first thing they'd want; it is certainly more efficient. When companies can't simply eliminate new competitors may be underestimating VCs. Which is not even allowed to ask permission to go wrong seems to pass so slowly for them, maybe you'd start to be started in Mississippi. Later you can make things very confusing.

There can be said to have discovered something intuitively without understanding all its implications. As a result, comparisons of programming languages either take the hit.

The empirical evidence suggests that if VCs are only partially driven by money. No, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniations, but I couldn't think of ourselves as investors, but a big effect on what you build this? The solution for this essay, I should add that we're not.

To get all you know whether you're in, we try to ensure there are some controversial ideas here, since they're an existing investor, lest that set an impossibly high target when raising additional money. Though they are like sheep, but that this excludes trickery like buying users; that's the intellectually honest argument for not discriminating between various types of publishers would be a startup we funded, summer jobs are the first type, and configure domain names etc.

5 seconds per day. That can be explained by math. As the name Homer, to the present, and also what we'd call random facts, like parents, truly believe they do.

Few consciously realize that species weren't, as it sounds plausible, the best day job is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. The key to wasting time building it. The best one could argue that the investments that generate the highest returns, but Confucius, though. The First Industrial Revolution, Cambridge University Press, 1996.

But you couldn't possibly stream it from a 6/03 Nielsen study quoted on Google's site. Faced with the best hackers want to impress are not one of the world, and so on?

In retrospect, we can teach startups a lot would be reluctant to start a startup: one kind that's called into being to commercialize a scientific discovery. But I know of any that died from releasing something stable but minimal very early, then add beans don't drain the beans, and it would work better, but to a company's culture. Doing Business in 2006, http://paulgraham. This has, like the other direction.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #retrospect #competitors #Multics #things #contracts #customers #money #sup #So #lunch

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writerthreads · 3 years ago

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The Top 10 YA Tropes/Clichés & How to Avoid Them

by So You Want to Write, formatted by Writerthreads

1. THE PROTAGONIST IS AN OUTSIDER

“I’m not like the other girls”

The world just doesn’t, like, get her. Maybe she’s awkward, weird, or super-smart. She reads Proust and only eats dry toast. She’s definitely not a cheerleader and has maybe one close friend (who’s also not cool).

How to avoid it:

Don’t be afraid to write a protagonist who’s popular, who moves between social circles, or who is perfectly average (except for, you know, being thrust into this fantastic adventure.)

(If you want to know more about why you should avoid this trope, read my essay on this in one of our earlier posts.)

2. THE PARENTS ARE DEAD

“They died in a horrible golfing accident…”

Or, dad skipped town, and mom works late at 3 jobs, 7 nights a week. Your main character’s an orphan? Never heard that one before. Do your characters come home after a 2-week odyssey without a, “Where the hell were you, the police have been looking for you!?” That’s weird.

How to avoid it:

It’s not impossible to imagine a wild, supernatural, dangerous and epic adventure in which the protagonist has regular parents. Heck – maybe they even aid the good guys in some way? Or maybe they’re just comic relief.

3. ALL ADULTS ARE USELESS

“Did your mom pass out drunk on the couch again tonight?”

Sure, some young readers are angst-y tweens who get their kicks from reading about parents getting their comeuppance, but we’d wager that most of the ones who are reading have a fairly decent rapport with ole’ mom and dad.

How to avoid it:

Let’s see some adult characters with agency for a change. It’s possible to build a world where the teenage protagonist is a formidable force and who also plays well with adults.

4. TOKEN DIVERSITY

“Hi, I’m Cheng, and I’m really good at math.”

Daily, YA readers come into contact with friends who have a different skin colour, culture, disability, family arrangement, and sexual orientation from them. They are surely capable of relating to a story involving non-white/handsome/fit characters. Publishers are clamouring for this kind of diversity, but don’t be the cautionary tale that writes in a token character for the sake of it!

How to avoid it:

Write diverse characters, but make them believable. Do you research: talk to someone of that lived experience. Your characters should talk, act, and even think the way that someone who is X would. Don’t force it.

5. YE OLDE DYSTOPIAN WORLD

“Hey do you mind just leading this insurgency for a quick sec?”

War. Really Bad War. Everything’s different now, bad different. This government sucks bad, gotta start a rebellion. Nope, it can’t be done peacefully – gotta be overthrown. Sure, this was an interesting premise in The Hunger Games, but nobody wants to read 50 books with that same basic plot.

How to avoid it:

Ask yourself – what is the story that only you can tell? Start with the problem or challenge your protagonist is facing, and then write out 25 ideas for the basic structure of your world (Hint: it doesn’t have to be all bleak and broken.)

6. PROTAGONIST CAN’T SEE HER BEAUTY

“I’m just an ordinary Hollywood girl making $20 mil a picture”

She’s the family favourite and has a line up of guys at her locker. She volunteers at the orphanage and is at the top of her class. But she’s modest. “Oh, who, little old me? I’m nothing special.” She goes through the book seeing herself as a wilting wallflower despite her incredible feats – until some guy shows her how special he is by falling for her. Please – spare us the 20th-century prince charming thing.

How to avoid it:

Show us a girl (or guy) that doesn’t need rescuing. Write a character who is actually quite comfortable in her own skin, thank you very much. She can still fall in love, but she doesn’t need

7. HEY, MY PARENTS ARE OUT OF TOWN. HOUSE PARTY!

“Whoa, you have a hot tub, dude?”

I did actually throw a party EVERY time my mom left town. But the house never got trashed and nobody ever got pregnant. That scene where everyone’s arriving at the upper-middle-class mansion, the protagonist not sure if he’s going to go in, and some kind of conflict ensues, has been done. While we’re at it, nobody wants to read about prom again.

How to avoid it:

Put your characters in one of the billion other settings that a teenager might find himself in: stuck at a little brother’s birthday party? Being the elderly neighbour’s dance partner for $5 an hour? Identifying bodies at the morgue? Get the story out of the parents’ liquor cabinet.

8. FORCED ROMANCE

“There’s something about the way your abs are glistening that makes me want to have your babies”

Have you read a story where a character serves absolutely no purpose except to look pretty and be some kind of one-dimensional love interest for the main character? That’s the calling card of a lazy author.

How to avoid it:

By all means – write romance into your character’s life, but his beau doesn’t need to be a walking mannequin. Think about how this other person can drive the plot, or aid the protagonist. You can steer right around the “love at first sight” angle. While we’re at it, let’s drop the “best friend turned lover” trope.

9. I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!

“Flunked algebra, but I’m going to defeat the greatest evil the world has ever known”

Main character is just a REGULAR GUY™ but finds out TERRIBLE SECRET™ revealed by FATALISTIC PROPHECY™. Protagonist may or may not have SPECIAL POWERS™ that must be used to SAVE THE WORLD™. Oh, and he finds out in the last chapter he’s of royal blood. Your readers are already considering suicide by paper cuts.

How to avoid it:

If you really need to use this trope (since it works so well) don’t just write another Harry Potter; come up with an interesting variation on the theme. Maybe your protagonist’s uniqueness is ordained not by fate, but because he trained his whole life in a special skill?

And the Top YA Trope Award goes to…

10. THE LOVE TRIANGLE

“Betty or Veronica?”

Your main character needs to find the Trident of Poseidon to complete the 12 Tasks of the Merovingians, aligning the Stargates and thwarting the Arachnid invasion. Also: hormones. Should she go for the guy with the 6-pack or 8-pack? The popular blond athlete, or the brooding brunette anarchist?

How to avoid it:

Love triangles are the most overused YA plot device by an order of magnitude. Unless this unholy trinity is integral to your plot (and why would you do that to your book?), don’t force it into your story. Your story might not even need any romantic sub-plot, but if you choose to include one, it need not be this dusty has-been. Get creative.

#writers on tumblr #writing inspiration #writing #writeblr #writers block #story writing #teen writer #writers #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writing tips #writing help #writing advice

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rena-iwa · 2 years ago

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Character Thoughts: Maxi #1

One detail I really enjoy about the character creation of Maximillian are her initial beliefs regarding relationships, and the shame following those. (Now, it may be hard to imagine how one can enjoy “shame” -- so do allow me to explain).

What I find particularly interesting is how the upbringing within her social class, combined with what I assume could be called religious guilt, played out in the early days of her relationship with Riftan. Adding the realities of her household to it... I think it makes it truly fascinating.

Contents:

Beliefs on how a good wife should be. (#1-4)

Maxi in her own eyes. (As a consequence; Early relationship).

When Riftan comes into picture.

Belief #1: A good wife is obedient, regardless of the circumstances.

Said circumstances include things such as... Not even being aware of something being prohibited. (I think it’s fair to say one can assume this way of thinking takes root in her father’s behaviour).

Belief #2: A good wife is somebody who can be boasted about.

Maxi doesn’t consider herself particularly beautiful nor talented. As such, she resorts to making herself useful, desperately hoping it would be enough to earn herself some love. (Another thing imprinted on her by her father -- “you cannot be loved, most definitely not without an explicit reason”).

Belief #3: A good wife is a symbol of status.

A good wife is not only something to boast about and embellish you -- it appears that in Maxi’s eyes, the kind of person she is reflects directly on her husband’s good name. ( I do dare say Maxi might have even felt as if she had to make up with her actions for herself, as if the state of her being put her in negative in regards to ‘lovability’. After all, was her existence not “dishonourable” in and of itself?)

This seems to have shown itself in the way she attempted to carry herself -- she wanted to appear as an exalted, dignified lady, a proper and honourable person of good manners and education.

Belief #4: Good wife is proper, meaning... She fulfils her husband’s sexual desires while staying perfectly still, and does not exhibit affections towards him openly.

Maxi lacks any knowledge in regards to sexuality. Initially she is scared and confused (and given his own gaps in knowledge, Riftan was unable to help her with that during their wedding night -- not to mention the time limit imposed on him, among other circumstances).

But, even as her life becomes enriched with more pleasant experiences... Initially she does wonder whether it is proper of her. Whether she’s doing things ‘right’, because she was not informed of how it’d feel, and she certainly wasn’t prepared for it. Doesn’t being improper equal to being shameful? She doesn’t allow herself much openness about her personal desires, and given this detail, I think one can assume the reason behind it may stretch past ordinary shyness.

So, with all that in mind, how does Maxi see herself?

She is not a mind-reader. It is an impossible standard to meet. However, she’d have to be one in order to always be perfectly obedient. Additionally, she is quite stubborn and curious, even when she attempts to repress it during their early days.

She stutters. Maxi is aware of the fact that severe stutter may make her hard to understand sometimes. With how it was presented to her her entire life, she believes it to be her fatal flaw, something that makes her look foolish, and something that makes it impossible for her to ever appear dignified.

She never had a life fitting of somebody of her status. The experience gap is huge. She was not taught how to manage finances, she is not aware of certain social rules, there are multiple events typically attended by her social class that she has no idea about. How is she supposed to embody a certain image if she knows little about it?

The last point seems to be the one to bother her for the shortest time. It generates a lot of confusion for her at first, but she does trust in Riftan’s explanation as of why it’s just an ordinary state of affairs.

Now, Riftan comes into her life. Long story short: every single one of those beliefs is proven to be utter bullshit.

Obedience. Sure, he’d love for her to stay safely hidden away from any dangers, but Riftan never seems to expect complete obedience. He may be initially angry with her, but he does consider what she has to say, and in certain cases, grants her (some) freedom of choice. (Decorate the castle however you see fits; would you rather stay at the monastery or the palace; if you really want to practise medicine and study magic, so be it -- just promise not to endanger yourself!). Even if they argue, Riftan doesn’t love Maxi any less. Not only that: compared to what she’s used to... His anger is safe. Maxi can be completely sure he will not abuse her to have her be a certain way. In other words: she is more precious to him than having control over her.

“Boasting rights” & Status Why in the devil should he care about whether anybody else considers his wife worthy? HE is the one she’s married to, and he entered this union without any expectations of her. He appreciates her desire to maintain the castle, he sees her learning and (even if he is worried sick the entire time) he cannot refuse her talent. HE is the one person who should be concerned with how physically attractive she appears, and well, he considers her alluring. Riftan never uses her as a token of his own greatness. Maxi doesn’t need to be the best in something to earn his love and affection. If anything, he is worried his own heritage may lead to her being insulted -- and that is something he will not stand for, under any circumstances. I must mention here that he just... Seems to see her limitations, and to just accept her with them. He was aware of her struggling with speech even before they married (his POV story). He never comments about it. Can I also bring back the fact that he asks her to read to him? At that point, he is still unaware of what her father did to her, of the surrounding circumstances. And she does read to him, and he listens carefully and ENJOYS IT, even if she makes errors. Given her previous experiences, this is so meaningful! (Signed: a person who struggles with reading aloud).

Affections :) “This is just a normal thing married couples do.” It is! And how is she supposed to stay still like a corpse if he tries to make sure she enjoys it? He doesn’t want for her to be still! He doesn’t care whether it’s proper or not! Luckily, it doesn’t take Maxi too long to abandon the “am I even doing this thing right” thoughts. But even outside the bed matters, Riftan is always affectionate towards her. She is aware of the fact that, well, one of the married woman’s duty is to produce a heir -- but he never treats her like a breeding mare. (Which, given the fate that met her mother, may be somewhat unexpected to her). Not only that, he claims not to want a child if the process of obtaining one could have her killed. She knows what her father did! How mind-boggling must it be to her at the moment?

All things combined, the way he treats her shakes everything she considered to be true about the world. He... is the first person to show her how lovable she truly is. She doesn’t know how to navigate through it, and false assumptions lead her to believe she may lose it if she doesn’t become worthy -- but then again, that is a part of her journey.

As much as his feelings do end up turning overbearing, they are also nourishing and healing. While (I assume) her love is there to teach him how to be weak, his love is what encourages her to seek her own strength (even if the thought of hardships that may await her terrifies him). So that they can both stand next to each other in life... Breaking those four pillars? The way he loves her sets some parts of her free.

#riftan x maxi #under the oak tree #under the oak tree novel #riftan calypse #maximilian calypse #iwa and her rambling

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kawaiijohn · 3 years ago

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Rewind, Rinse, Repeat Chapter 1

For Invisobang Minibang 2021

Ao3 Link

Chapters: 3 finished, 12 total Rating: T+ Warnings: Major and Minor Character Death- all temporary, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Strong Language, Mild Body Horror, Mild Injury. Other warnings listed by chapter Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Pariah Dark, Levi | Leviathan (OC), Mal (OC), Observants, Mentions of other characters Ships: Lost Time, Dark Ages, CW & OC child, CW & Levi | Leviathan (OC) Genre/Tropes: Human AU, Magic AU, Found Family, Character Origin, Hurt/Comfort, Original Magic System and Lore Additional Tags: Existentialism & Existential Angst, Memory Loss & Amnesia, Corruption, Clockwork Centric, They/Them Pronouns for Clockwork, The Fenton's A+ Parenting, Obersvant Bashing

Summary

“Clockwork can I ask you something? How did you become a ghost?”

The tale surrounding the mystery of Clockwork's existence; a world where magic is common and ghosts are not. A world where one lonely, average mage tries with all their might to save what means most to them. A world where things need to be remade into something better.

Shout out to my betas @bibliophilea and @moonlights-shadow-warrior for keeping me sane, @13thdoodle for letting me use their OC, Levi, @dailudannos and @sailor-toni for providing art for later chapters, and all the folks over at @invisobang for being awesome!!!!

Chapter One below the Cut. The rest is available on my Ao3 account because tumblr linking/posting is hella broken.

Chapter 1: An Inquiry

“Hey, Clockwork? Can I ask you something?”

Clockwork looks over from the mirror they were watching intently. “You already have, Daniel,” they reply, offering the other a smirk.

“Oh, ha ha. You've never said that to me before.” The reply is filled to the brim with sarcasm, as per usual. Danny rolls his eyes, but a small smile gracing his lips betrays the fact he isn't annoyed in the least. “Seriously, though. It’s something that's been on my mind like... every day for the last two weeks!!" He raises his hands towards the sky, flopping back in the air dramatically. "But... it's kinda, y'know. Personal-” Danny trails off, slightly embarrassed.

Of course. Clockwork finds themself smiling fondly- Danny thought he’d said something he shouldn't have- an inquiry that could make his guardian upset (as if it's even possible to upset Clockwork like that). A question is a question, and this is a worrying habit of his that the Time Master is trying to help break, even if it's still somewhat endearing to them.

“I uh, I mean... it’s personal about- to you, not to me. That’s what I meant!!” Danny continued.

Clockwork stares at him, unblinking. An idea (or thousands) of what he may ask flashes through their mind’s eye. With a single, calming pulse to their Core, Clockwork pushes the involuntary slideshow of timelines aside as if they're no more than curtains. They need to focus on the window in front of them; the here and now, not the temporal drapery.

It's a habit they are trying to overcome for Daniel’s sake. To ensure their ward's growth, they need to stop peering into the near future as often- not discourage his asking of questions. After all, what is a child if not but a well of endless curiosity? Cutting Danny off is also sure to disallow the development of any trust or patience Clockwork needs to build within their young ward. They wouldn’t receive either of those things if they assume what he wanted to ask.

It's common decency to not assume, lest it ‘make an ass out of you and me’, according to Daniel.

It is going to be a tough habit to break, but by the (other) Ancients, they're trying their best. Their ward deserves the infinitesimal choices all other children have when asking things of their guardians, so even if they do glimpse to the future, they will not mention it to him. Clockwork refuses and will continue to refuse to take their ward’s agency away; to not have a choice in things is a fate worse than fading.

The boy has been quiet, stuck deep within his own thoughts even after an impressive five minutes and thirty-seven and a half seconds of silence (uncharacteristic of the boy, Clockwork notes).

Now that just won't do- he must have lost his train of thought. Clockwork gestures at the ghost boy, motioning for him to continue. It works- Danny adverting his eyes and clearing his throat, "Well, it’s just like- you know so much about me- like, how I died, the whole Ghost Zone Prince business, that entire disaster doomed timeline with Dan... I just keep thinking- no- realizing, that I barely know anything about you!!” He throws his arms up in thinly veiled frustration.

Clockwork smirks. “You had another question, did you not?” They place a hand along the edge of the closest Temporal Mirror, turning to face the mirror- still halfway facing Danny. They can see his inner debate clearly written on the boy's face- the mirror reflecting as if it were an ordinary object (for now). They turn towards it fully and watch Daniel's reaction from behind them, acting as if they aren't finding joy in their ward's hesitation. It's always adorable when he tries not to offend Clockwork. "I may be able to work with time, but that doesn't mean I wish to float here waiting for an answer all day."

Danny blinks a few times, rolling his eyes again in response. Clockwork is certain that if they weren’t secured to his skull by human musculature they’d fall out and roll away. “Well, I’m sorry for trying not to be rude and like, asking outright... but since it’s you I have to always be super direct!! Jeeze you’re frustrating sometimes!” He floats towards his mentor, crossing his arms.

Danny often forgets Clockwork isn't easily upset over trivial things such as questions. Most questions are about things they already know the answers to, anyways. And the few things that they don’t know when asked, they figure out soon after. Such is the duty of the Master of Time- to be a step ahead of everyone and everything else always. Besides, in most timelines (68.3% of them, to round up) the question Daniel wishes to ask is along the lines of ‘What was your past like?’ Another small fraction (a little under 20%) the question is ‘How did you get so strong?’ . And even in the remaining timelines, the question would be along the lines of ‘How do your time powers work?’

They are each things Clockwork expects Daniel to ask them at some point or other, as it were. There isn’t really anything Daniel can ask that could be too shockin-

“Clockwork, I was wondering… how exactly did you become a ghost?”

They... did not see that coming… in any of the timelines they’d glimpsed. Clockwork stills for only a fraction of a moment, but it’s long enough for Danny to flinch, feeling as if he’s crossed a line. They hear more than see Daniel shrinking in on himself as they look off into nothing, buried memories waking slowly in their mind.

Clockwork is brought from their introspection by a mumbled curse. “Shit! I mean... uh crap??" They just stare at Danny as they are brought back to the present. "Never mind just... sorry for asking... Oh man! Did I offend you somehow? Ancients dammit, this is what I was worried about!!” They watch him curiously, soft whirring coming from their ward's anxious core. “We can just forget about it if-” Daniel’s hands wring together nervously, shoulders tense with worry and face full of guilt.

Right- facial expressions are also important for a young ghost's emotional communication and development. Sometimes the Time Master wonders if their isolation in Long Now affected their social behavior (it did). Their face is carefully blank most times, so they set to fix it- they offer a small grin, hand coming to rest on Daniel’s shoulder. “It is more than fine, Daniel. You asked if you could ask a question- which is in fact, two questions, I should note- but I gave you consent to ask it of me.” They squeeze his shoulder to placate the worry.

“It’s about time I told you this story, as it were. I just did not foresee it being told at this very moment." Clockwork floats slowly, turning away from their Mirrors. "Come along- it’s best we sit for this. I’ll have one of your friends bring us some tea.”

Danny floats after his mentor, looking around the room the two normally use to study history of the Realms. “So, uh… is it a long story or...?”

“Oh, it is very long, indeed.” They fly through an ornate door and over to their favored 'chair'- a stack of comfortable cushions in violets and blues, both impossibly cool and warm at the same time. They recall Daniel discovering the room, eyes full of wonder and posture relaxed. Clockwork chuckles- the first time their boy had wandered in here he'd decided to take a running dive into the pile, jumping up in surprise when it was cold as ice, yet warm as fresh laundry. The expression on their ward’s face is one of their fondest memories; a happy moment amongst all the tedium of watching time.

“It may take a while to tell this tale proper. But, it is a story that ought to be told.” Daniel makes himself comfortable on his chair of choice- an unholy combination of 'borrowed' pillows and what appears to be a more modern gaming chair- complete with an obnoxiously bright green-black color scheme. Clockwork has to hide another smile as Danny wiggles himself deep into the pile. “So, Daniel- what do you know of the phrase ‘Totems of Power’?”

“I thought I was getting a story, not a pop quiz! Unfair!!” His disdain for schooling makes Clockwork laugh fondly before the boy continues. “But they’re like… hmm how do I explain this? Well, there’s the universe right? Like every timeline and every result of every timeline all at the same time kind of ties into the main universe thingy- but there's still a main timeline, and that's kinda like... Main Street, and the other possible timelines are uh... like side streets with dead ends? But there's other forces that like, aren't time and… uhhh...”

He hums, crossing his arms deep in thought. Clockwork takes the time to purr-sing-hum at one of the many blobs floating in and out of their lair; Daniel had asked them to keep some around as pets and the Time Master was happy to oblige. They were unable to deny something so beneficial to the young Prince, after all. The one deemed ‘Mr. Pants’ by one of Daniel’s friends answers their call. Clockwork buzzes to it a quiet request- ‘bring Daniel's favorite tea and mugs for two, please.’ The little thing chirrups and zips off through the walls- eager to serve the Lair’s owner and be (potentially) rewarded with pats (from Daniel).

The Time Master brings their undivided attention back toward a grumbling ghost boy, lost in thought. “Daniel if you need to ask for help I’m glad to-”

Danny snaps his fingers, coming to a realization before his mentor can finish. “I got it!! The best way to explain it is ‘The Universe needs to run smoothly, so there’s certain forces- like Time or Space- that are upheld by a powerful entity, like a person or like… the avatar of that concept? Yeah, something like that, but they ensure the aspect they represent is properly cared for so the universe doesn’t completely like, die.’” Danny nods to himself. "It's why you stepped in to stop Dan, to make sure the world didn't end like that."

“That is correct- it is my job to ensure this universe of ghosts and reality doesn't crumble prematurely. Now, do you have a recollection of any other Totems you may have encountered?”

“Well, yeah! We call them ‘Ancients’, though- so like… Pandora is the one for war and history, and Nocturn is for like… dreams? The Void or something, maybe? And then there’s old man Pariah who isn’t one, but he said there’s a Leadership Ancient somewhere, and then-” Danny pauses, blinking at Clockwork in realization. “Wait, you asked that for a reason, didn’t you?”

“That I did. Becoming the Totem, or Ancient of Time is where this story starts.” Clockwork hums, seeing Mr. Pants fly back towards the two- nearly spilling scalding tea all over the ground. “Now then. We have drinks. We are sitting comfortably. I believe it’s time I spin my tale for you.” They take a sip, closing their eyes in bliss.

They open them once more and see Daniel sitting, eyes full of stars and eager- Eager to hear, eager to fire off a question a minute. It makes a chuckle bubble up in their throat, to see their favorite person so excited to learn.

“Once upon a time, there was a human; average in most ways, a simple person living a simple life. They would get up in the morning, perform their daily tasks, and go to sleep at night. Day in, and day out- a boring, but fulfilling existence.

“However, where this story differs from what we recognize as reality, is that in this realm, humans who could control magic were the norm. Think as if it were like one of those fantasy games you and Tucker play together- mages, healers… all of those and more were commonplace when I was alive. Yes, humans can wield magic now, but it is nowhere near as frequent as they could in our tale.”

They pause, seeing that Danny was about to interrupt. “Wait wait- this realm? Like- this is a completely different reality?? And people can wield magic now??? Are you messing with me? Like… I thought it was all just-” The boy stops, his train of thought drifting off the tracks as it tends to now and then.

“Yes, first, this is a completely different realm from either the Mortal Plane or the Ghost Zone. Second, Daniel- tell me... have you not noticed the magic of those you have encountered? Blood blossoms… a reality warping gauntlet? The existence that is ‘Freakshow’ in general should be a red flag, seeing as his talents were… strangely non-ghostly in origin. Not to mention objects such as the Infi-map...”

“Man, I wish I could forget about Freakshow… who mind controls ghosts??? He was the worst!” Their young ward crossed his arms and grumbles.

“If you’re done sulking about your past misadventures and former foes, I was in the middle of telling a story, if I recall correctly. One you asked I tell you…” Clockwork simply stares, unblinking as steam wafts from their slowly cooling tea.

All is well, they knew Danny would only take approximately 4.85 seconds to snap his attention back to their story. Clockwork sips their tea, waiting.

Danny snaps out of his thoughts only a millisecond off of Clockwork's prediction. “Sorry... it’s just super weird to think that magic actually… still exists? Like ghosts are real and all but magic being a thing feels a bit far fetched, don’t ya think?” He pouts, brow furrowed.

The Master of Time finally closes their eyes, removing the hood from their head. White hair floats gracefully behind them, settling just past their shoulders. Clockwork opens their eyes again- a serious, yet warm expression directed at their ward. “Magic is simply defined as reality altering acts using both energy and the willpower of a sentient being, if that helps.” Another sip. Mr. Pants made a wonderful batch of tea, as always. They smile wider when they notice Danny’s expression- the boy has never seen them without a hood, and they know doing this will (in 99.78% of all possible timelines) convince the boy to take what they said seriously. ”Just as ghosts can be defined as ‘ectoplasm given form and consciousness’, forces beyond humanity and the physical realm can be explained with scientific terminology if you know where to look.”

“So like... what all did magic have to do with this ‘simple human’ version of you? Did you ever have the power to shoot lightning?? Could I shoot lightning if I tried? Like were you some sorta time wizard? Is that why you’re all… timey-wimey and powerful?” Danny wiggles his fingers with a look of confusion on his face.

Clockwork always finds their Core warming when their boy acts his age. He's abnormally prone to shoulder the destiny of the world on himself and often forgets he's just a kid. “You could continue asking questions one at a time, or you could allow me to tell my story. The choice is yours, Daniel.” They smirk, watching as Danny purses his lips, his steady flow of questions stopping short. The best answer. “Perfect- all is as I thought it would be.”

They close their eyes and reminisce as they continue. “Now- to answer your last question… Yes. You could say magic is how I came to be the Master of Time in both the Infinite Realms and the mortal plane, but there is much more to the story than that. Other players, situations, and pure circumstances. The universe in its infinite chances and possibilities brought myself, as well as many others to the situations they face here and now.” Clockwork pauses, taking the moment to stare straight through Danny’s soul. “Even yourself.”

The boy shudders, an appropriate response. “Wait... me? Did you… do something in the past to like… a past version of someone we know?? Can that even happen???” Danny is already enraptured by the story, eyes twinkling as his mentor opens up about themself. The boy is obviously thinking about everything that has happened, everything that could possibly have happened, and everything that Clockwork could possibly drop on him.

They feel Daniel cautiously tug on loose strands of time to see if he could possibly scope out what is about to be said, quickly failing to do much else beside give himself a small headache. “Time stuff is still really confusing, Clockwork…”

“You could say that. You could even say that trying to mess with time in the inner sanctum of Long Now is the most confusing ‘time stuff’ one could do if they were not myself.” They grin- a Temporal Mirror appearing behind them with a thought.

“What’s the mirror for?” Danny catches sight of himself and looks away, embarrassed that he’s been literally glowing with power after trying to do something so simple with his developing powers. The glow is something he’s been working on suppressing recently. After all, it would be a shame if other ghosts could see the boy powering up by aura alone.

The Master of Time smirks, bringing tea to their lips again. “I thought it would be fun to attempt braiding my hair and doing my makeup for once. It has been an awfully long time since I’ve done either.”

They stare at Danny who just bursts into laughter. “Did you just use sarcasm??? Man, I didn’t know you could lighten up, Clockwork!” The boy laughs harder, sinking deeper into his nest of pillows. After a few minutes he was finally wiping tears from his eyes. “But no. Seriously… what’s the mirror for??”

“Why, what they are always for, Daniel- seeing through time and space.” Clockwork waves their hand. The mirrors show an image of a human with dark hair and burgundy eyes. They have a large, hooked nose and medium brown skin- and Danny finds himself having a hard time guessing their gender. The human sits at a desk, paused in time with the delicate gears of a clock sprawled along the desk surface, tools in hand.

Behind Clockwork, the image changes, showing the human living through an average day- images play in small spurts, never showing the whole story. “Do you understand what’s being seen?” The young boy nods, grabbing Mr. Pants out of the air as the blob drifts between the two. Good, he will probably need the companionship, especially towards the end.

This isn’t the easiest story to tell, nor is it easy to listen to, but with a sip of their tea, Clockwork continues.

#danny phantom #invisobang #invisobang 2021 #dp #phanfic #art #my fic #RRR #dantes vibe corner

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