A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It’s the longest I’ve written on this blog and I’d really appreciate the feedback here
I’m most likely doing a Part 2 depending on how you all like it. Enjoy :)
Harry loved family reunions.
Amongst the bickering cousins and lurid pitter-patter of children, he often found himself feeling at peace as his folks filled him in on all the stories he’s missed out on. He’d laugh about his jittery uncle who nearly burnt his eyebrows off from an old barbecue, nodding approvingly as his aunt gushes about her eight year old who’s just won the flashy new title of spelling bee champion. He likes the way they treat him too. With adoration in their eyes, resurrecting from the years they’ve watched him as a young boy (instead of the usual gaze of stardom he’s used to). He almost, if not, especially enjoys the way they admire his success, not as an ego-booster, but as a way of praising Anne for his upbringing, despite the major gossip that briefly tainted his mother’s name around her first divorce.
But even in a house packed with his most favourite people, he would always feel relatively exhausted from the length of the reunion, a full four days he’d reckoned. It was unfair really, he loved his crazy family, but he always felt like he had to put on his best face, never getting his usual dose of solitude to rejuvenate.
So when Harry first invited you to join him, he hadn’t quite expected you to be so patient with his family.
“Yes, he is very handsome,” you’d chuckle, “but we’re only friends.”
“You’re sweet, love, but I think this little girl wins the beauty contest, hmm?”
“Right, he is very good with kids.”
“M’only in uni, ma’am, so I’ve got a few good years before settling down.”
As well as written poetry, it is important to look at spoken word, or slam poetry, because it allows trans authors to convey their poetry in an even more tangible way. Having an audience present works to reify the ideals of community and solidarity. Underlining unity is powerful, both within the trans community and for the purpose of coalition building, moving toward support that goes beyond the art world.
In the introduction to the Transgender Studies Reader,
“(De)Subjugated Knowledges,” Susan Stryker discusses the language of
gender and the ways in which material determinism permeates Western
culture. She states, “The relationship between bodily sex, gender role,
and subjective gender identity are imagined to be strictly,
mechanically, mimetic – a real thing and its reflections” (Stryker 9).
Transgender studies challenges this idea, focusing on social
construction through language and cultural narratives.
three of these poems interact with this idea of sex, gender roles, and
gender as it is experienced being lumped together. Such a fabrication
leads to the assumption of other individuals’ gender identities, as the
person doing the assuming attempts to make sense of an expression that
does not fit their binary philosophy.
“How to Love Your Body in 10 Easy Steps” by Ollie Schminkey
It is immediately clear in the first few lines that this poem grapples with mental health, as Schminkey’s first step involves unhealthy eating habits: “eating less will make you feel as if you have control.” They also talk about binding in unhealthy ways in order to “trick yourself into feeling complete.” Without societal acceptance and the supposed stability of the gender binary, the search for control of the self and self-image can manifest in potentially dangerous ways.
Schminkey describes the impact of rejection, “Man, woman, whatever./You are the whatever.” Outside of the binary, people are essentially dehumanized and labeled deviant. This creates a hostile environment where dysphoria may take its root. The poem continues, “Do not call it what it is/do not call it transgender/do not say dysphoria/just say depression, no qualifier” (Schminkey). Calling it dysphoria is to recognize a problem stemming from
society and normative standards of gender expression, beauty, and so on. With this poem, however, Schminkey calls attention both to the condition of dysphoria and to its silencing.
“Ritual” by Muggs Fogarty
Fogarty talks about material determinism extensively in this poem. “What parts of you are heavy with fluid?/which direction do your shirt buttons button?/where do your glands swell?” These lines refer to the ways society writes gender on bodies without asking, only concerned with fitting physical appearance into socially constructed category. They use repetition to signify the numerous instances they have been asked for their name assigned at birth, as if the listener hears their poetry and continues to ask, looking for “gender lies,” some trace of inauthentic expression (Fogarty).
When referring to binding their breasts, Fogarty declares, “I was so afraid others would notice their absence, especially if they had never noticed mine.” This makes more powerful the message the poet is delivering, that bodies are more valued than the minds, expressions, and identities that they hold. Especially in reference to the commodification and objectification of women,this poem is relevant to trans studies in its critique of society’s attention to the presence or absence of certain anatomical characteristics in determining gender judgments.
“A Letter to the Girl I Used to Be” by Ethan Smith
In this poem, Smith reconciles the memory of himself and his dreams growing up with the reality of his current life and the ways in which those dreams have shifted. He begins by addressing his former self – using his name given at birth. This serves as a way to separate himself wholly from the person he was before transitioning. He speaks of memories told to him by his father which he does not remember, but moves on to discuss family, which complicates the narrative of the poem. As he describes beginning hormone therapy, Smith expresses, “I thought about your children, how I wanted them too.” His desire for children is separate from his gender expression, yet the way that bodies are looked upon by society produces a dissonance, dysphoria. In order for his body to fit within norms for his experienced gender, he no longer retains the ability to produce life, something that had been precious to him. In saying this, Smith removes trans bodies from a pathologized and objectified space and focuses on a future oriented one, where trans-identified people express the desire for new families of their own. He validates that struggle and represents narratives different from the fight for recognition in one’s current family, which is usually the only family related issue discussed in such a context.
At the end of the poem, after telling of his former struggles with mental health – “In therapy you said you wouldn’t make it to twenty-one. You were right” – and coming to terms with his gender expression, Smith provides an optimistic viewpoint. He affirms there was and still is a place for the memory of himself growing up, ending with “P.S. I never hated you” (Smith).
Unpopular fandom opinion that I think you'll agree with based on your fics. Iwaizumi is not always pissed off with Oikawa. Iwaizumi is not abusive towards Oikawa. They have a very close and long lasting friendship. Why would either of them stay together if their friendship was that toxic
I am so, so, so tired of all the joke posts and memes about how Iwaizumi wants to stomp on Oikawa, hit him, yell at him or just generally abuse him in other ways. Yes, okay, maybe a few of these were once “funny” in the very beginning of the fandom but it’s gotten to the point where Iwaizumi is mischaracterized as this brute and Oikawa is mischaracterized as this annoying brat. It’s not just a single joke, or here or there - it almost seems like some people just accept this as how their relationship is supposed to be?
Somehow their relationship (although in canon is described literally as perfect trust) is being portrayed as this disgusting, toxic, abusive relationship and I hate it! If their relationship were really so toxic there would be no reason for them to stay together at all.
~~This is the 1st in a series of alchemist emblems that I will attempt to explain from my own experience and knowledge. It will focus on polarity and have a common theme. ~~
Definition:Alchemy -is not the process of turning base metal into gold. It is the
process of turning the lead of the ego into the shining gold of a pure
soul. To do so takes effort. As I said in previous posts, there is no easy button, but worth every effort.
Two fish swimming in opposite directions in our inner sea. The sea is the body, the two fish are the polarity within. These two polarities coexist though work in different ways.
The 2 fish are taken from the Zodiac. Pisces. Water is always seen and an element that is movement, so it is fit that this would be the 1st emblem in the series. The movement of 2 opposite ideas.
It is the Ying and the Yang of the Oriental tradition.
It represents the transition time between the depths of winter and
the beginning of spring, when snow turns to rain, and the streams and rivers begin to run again. It is the final sign in the zodiac 12 month period. It would also carry the significance of the beginning of something new.
One must begin the Great Work by examining your inner being. One that is spiritual & one that is concerned with the material. The Ego & the soul. Reflection and meditation upon transmuting the desires for the material and instead directing that energy to focus upon your higher self.
Through the process of refining the soul and taking out the impurities of the ego we become connected to God. We battle constantly with our spirit as this is what free will is all about. Decisions. We ether align with our soul purpose or not.
Now this in no way is in opposition of the dogma of religion but in fact sheds light upon the teachings of every great master. Many teachers speak of leaving the material. Looking for the light of love. Walking the path. Why? They question us to make us think about what is truly important.
Conclusion: Meditate daily. Be the watcher of your thoughts and ego. Transmute what is not in alignment with your true purpose. Only you can know that purpose, but without self examination and connection to your soul you are merely existing instead of living.
“Mercy is the easiest character to play, you just press one button the whole game.”
Mercy’s move set may be pretty simplistic but being Mercy is far from being the easiest character to play. It’s more than pressing one button, you have to constantly fly to teammates in order to keep them all properly healed and that means keeping constant track of where your entire team is. You need to know when to damage boost vs. heal in tense moments and you need to get a good understanding of when to get to cover during enemy ultimates so you can rez your team. It’s a lot of observation of your teammates, the maps, and the enemies.
Not to mention that the enemy team is out to target you as much as possible. They want your team to lose a healer, they want your team to lose a chance at rez so they are constantly going after the Mercy. Do you know how often we get solo ulted? A lot. You all understand the importance of taking out the enemy Mercy but turn around and say she’s the easiest character to be good at? Nah man. Being good is about WAY more than knowing your character controls, it’s about being a useful teammate.
Mercy constantly gets shit with that whole “you just press one button, it’s easy,” comment and you can literally say that about most characters in the game. Reinhardt just holds a shield up, Bastion just presses one button and turrets everyone, Roadhog just hooks and shoots, Lucio just stands there and boops, Symmetra just puts turrets up, Torbjorn just builds a turret, Soldier just sprays bullets, Junkrat just launches bombs etc. But that ignores the full kit that characters have, how they put it to use, and how each character is useful to a team comp. Just let people play what they want and like characters they like without turning it into some competition of who plays the hardest character.
First of all, THANKS FOR LIKING MY WRITING STYLE. I TRY MY BEST. To do with the theory I wrote, the huge majority of it was thanks to @derekscorner, who I really couldn’t thank more for letting me post the revised version. Seriously, it got so much attention and I’m so happy that lots of people saw it and liked it.
So… how do I think the ending to Kingdom Hearts III will happen?
Short version: Made a depressed cat twerk, poked a severed arm with a stick, cried while talking with a pastor about an uncaring god. 10/10
Long version: For this kind of genre, good games have engaging stories, fun gameplay, nice music and graphics, relatable characters, and well written dialogue. Great games have all that plus a strong and consistent tone. They set out from the very start to show the player something. This is a great game.
Fair warning: This game is not a fast paced one. If you speed through content and don’t like exploring and talking to everyone you can, you might feel like it’s short and shallow. You get out what you put in. If on the other hand you take the time to explore, to chew it over, to talk to everyone, you’ll love it. If you play games exclusively to feel good and escape boredom, maybe this isn’t for you. But if you play games to get something out of a story, to learn a little about yourself, or generally to experience something, it’ll feel very rewarding.
I’m gonna break this down into a full scale review because it deserves more than just a blurb about how good it is.
Pros: Excellent story, characters and theme. Great music. Personal and honest dialogue that will more than likely hurt and empower you personally, and make you feel complex, good, and bad emotions. Cons: Sometimes the swears are a little lacking and out of character, no easy save/reload feature (your choices and mistakes count), and the occasional difficulty in platforming in dim lighting.
Story You play as Mae, a college dropout who just returned home to her town of Possum Springs. You reunite with your friends you left a year and a half ago, and find that the town is in some ways changed, or maybe not. Strange things are afoot in town, but few seem to notice or care when they have more important things to worry about like putting food on the table, juvenile delinquency, or just getting caught up in the slow stagnancy and deterioration of small town life.
This game’s magic is in its story and the well written characters. This is a deeply relatable, emotional, honest game. The scenes have a certain real-ness to them more than most games can ever hope for, mostly helped by the converastional language of the characters. It doesn’t feel scripted it just feels organic. The only negative on that front is that to maintain a teen rating, the game had to limit its swears, so there’s a lot of “effin” and mild swears like damn and a couple shits. So that kinda felt a little out of character now and then, but otherwise, it was tone aware. Everyone is a deeply fleshed-out character with their own interests. As the main character, you won’t win all the time. As a matter of fact you’ll find yourself in situations where you can’t make the best of a bad situation at all. But that’s good, because this story isn’t just about you. It’s about a community.
This game sets out with a theme, and does it well. The short version is that it’s a critique of modern society. In that, it tackles issues of capitalism, social isolation, religion, mental health, poverty, friendship, sexuality, anarchy, environmentalism, war, and defiant hope. Themes that video games, and stories in general really don’t often approach well, if at all. Pretty much every scene in the game somehow contributes to this, but does so without coming off forced at all. it’s all integrated into the larger whole of the game. Since the theme is pretty broad and far-reaching, you get a lot of different ways of looking at the situation, from the perspectives of all the characters. It’s a poignant story that hits close to home no matter who you are.
Gameplay It’s a solid platformer. It controls a lot like limbo or other side scrolling adventure games. There’s no real major obstacles or deathtraps, but there are some kinda tricky jumps you might need to do a few times to get right. The platformer thing isn’t really the game itself to be honest, it’s more the way you get from point A to point B. It could just as easily have been a visual novel or a grid based rpg, but it would have lost some of its charm of exploring the town.
There’s a lot of minigames, ranging from guitar hero esque, to a stationary worms tank minigame, to a fully built souls-series-hyper-light-drifter thing that easily could have been a standalone game on its own. All the minigames control well, but they’re pretty tough and there’s no easy reload button besides force-quitting. None of them are exactly mandatory though so don’t feel pressured unless you want all the achievements.
Graphics it’s layers of pretty stylized shapes and incredibly well animated characters. Subtleties in movement and expression help the dialogue too. The lighting and palette are beautiful, and the mood is carried by the graphics well. I can’t say too much about the graphics except that they’re pretty and fit the theme and mood. My only criticism of the game is in the graphics though, that the lighting in a few of the scenes was a tad dark for my monitor to differ between ground and background so I found myself guessing at where platforms were every now and then, but it was never enough to inconvenience me, and I could have adjusted my monitor for the effort of it.
Sound I need the soundtrack. It’s moody, atmospheric, happy, unnerving, rocking, and fun. It covers a ton of ground with the soundtrack to fit the many moods and emotions. Looking forward to the OST.
Time and money For 20 bucks on steam, it’s good. Took me 11 hours to play through the first time. To get to some of the stuff you’ll have to do multiple playthroughs. There’s no proper save and reload function. Your choices stick and that’s for the best imo. Unfortunately that means getting some achievements would take a disproportionate time investment, but so does dark souls, so whatever.
Overall: If you like games that make you feel things, if you like stories relevant to the present, if you don’t want to feel like a badass, but just want to feel… ironically human, this is for you.
“Can I request teen!Brendon?!?! Like maybe a highschool AU or something? Start off hating each other and well you can decide where it goes?”
[Author’s note! Sure thing sweetie! Thanks for the request! This is going to be a fun one to write. I am excited.I am also making this a pre-imagine for one that I wrote awhile back called Composition!]
You never knew the devil had a name until you met Brendon. High school was going fine, you finally felt comfortable in your own shoes, until one day you had an unfortunate run in with the devil himself.
You were already running late for class as it is. A series of poor decisions got you there. When you finally stumble into the school, you are welcomed by a crowded hallway and no familiar faces in sight. Rule of thumb, you keep your friends limited in school and you glide your way through it. You were able to make it through a large portion of school too going unnoticed until the local boy wonder decided to make it his goal in life to give you chest pain.
He is a full blow douche to say the least. And this wasn’t just a passing phase, oh no. It’s his full time job to make you feel as awkward and uncomfortable as physically possible. Surely a level opposition that is worthy of a mention in the record books of cliche high school bullies.
Nevertheless, you were late and eager to get to your class. You have a reputation to uphold, and being on time is included. You eye the door up and cringe as you see him leaning against the wall right next to the classroom you need to be in. He looks so carefree standing there, his hand shoved into the pockets of his skinny jeans. That bastard. Quickly you try to devise a plan on how you can avoid him seeing you, but every plan seems to be a bust. Of course he has to stand in the one spot that is inescapable. Even more reason to hate him. You decide to dodge the bullet and just go for it, hoping that he won’t recognize you. Preparing for disaster, you clutch your books tightly to your chest and bow your head to avoid eye contact. With each passing step, you dread that inevitable encounter.
For a moment when you don’t hear that conceited voice of his call out your name, you think you have made it fast enough to avoid the whole ordeal. To your misfortune a ratty pair of black converse step into your field of vision and you are bound to be late for class now. You were so damn close.
“Hello there, dollface.” He chuckles through that insolent tone of his that makes you want to run the other direction. “To what do I owe the pleasure today?”
You find yourself retracting into yourself as he takes a step closer. You wish you had never run into him in the first place, you don’t even want to know his name. But of course you do. How could you not? With his dark hair and muddy eyes that could melt anyones heart, he has that quality that any cocky bad guy has. Intimidatingly attractive. And deservedly so, if you can get past the lack of a heart.
“Move it Urie. I am just trying to get to class.” you attempt to push past him. As tempting as it is to look up and see his reaction, you can’t muster up the courage to give them that kind of pleasure.
Instead of letting you go by, he moves with you in one swift movement. He makes a better door than a human in your opinion.
“That eager to get to class are we?” he leans against the door frame. That jerk has the nerve to make it look so easy to push someone’s buttons. “Can’t be late now isn’t that right?”
“Something you have never understood the concept of.”
With a sudden gust of attitude, you manage to glare at him. That exact look you imagined plastered on his face is there, eyebrows cocked and all.
“Shots fired. That really hurt (y/n).” his hand dramatically rubs his chest as if it signals his pain. “I didn’t think you had that in you.”
If you rolled your eyes any harder they would have rolled right out of your head. Sure it might have been overkill but this kid really got on your nerves. How you ever managed to get along with his friend Ryan was a mystery.
“Mr. Urie! Get to class!” the teachers yells and you inwardly thank the gods.
He throws his hands in the air defensively and moves out of the way, letting you escape your nightmare. With a smug grin you push past him, slipping him the finger behind your back.
“When you decide to have a little fun, you know where to find me!” he calls out heading down the hallway.
No way in hell that was happening.
“What was that all about?” you friend asks you as you sit down exasperated from the encounter.
“My worst nightmare, that’s what.” you sigh.
It’s seventh period, which means its both your favorite and least favorite part of the day. Your favorite because it is your independent music study. Your least favorite because you have to be in the same room as Brendon for a whole hour. Gross. At least you can lock yourself in a practice room and forget about him.
When you stumble into the band room and realize he is the only one in there, you curse to yourself and turn to head the opposite direction. Unfortunately for you, you caught his attention right away.
“Have somewhere to be?”
Shit. Your jaw clenches and your entire body grows stiff as you turn around to face him.
“No. I just couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a room with you. I wouldn’t want to catch a disease or something.” you wave him off digging through a pile of mixed up sheet music.
“Ouch. Two hits in one day. I must be rubbing off on you.”
That comment really got you bubbling. The fact that he would even take the credit for your witty comments makes you want to punch him. And it takes every ounce of self control not to just go up to him and give him one. But he would get too much joy out of that. So instead you grab your sheet music and make a mad dash past him. Luck was not in your favor.
In a fit of your clumsiness your music falls off your binder and scatters all over the floor. You frantically attempt to pick it up. Brendon chuckles at the sight of your cheeks glowing brightly in embarrassment. He knows the kind of effect he has on you, and you hate yourself for letting him know.
“Classical huh? What kind of sheet music is this anyway? You don’t strike me as the piano type.” he snorts as he picks up a few of the stray sheets. His expression reveals confusion and a hint of interest.
“You wouldn’t know if real music hit you in the face Urie.” you spit.
“You don’t even know what I do. Give it a chance, you might end up liking it.”
“In your dreams.” you manage to keep your voice steady as you reply.
“Your loss sweetheart!” he shrugs as you lock yourself in the soundproof practice room. At least he can’t hear or see you for the next hour.
The time passes quickly, and soon you find yourself having to put down your instrument and have to face the relentless punk rocker once again. Silently praying that he is already gone, your hopes are crushed when his voice rings out. You jump at the sudden interaction.
“A little jumpy today aren’t we?” he retorts, a smug grin pulling at his lips.
“Mind your own business would ya pretty boy?” you say trying to sneak away from him for the third time today.
“So you think I’m pretty, Huh?” he shoots you a devilish glare that could melt a heart.
“Something has to make up for you being such a douche.” you hiss.
You wait for him to reply in his usual manor, but for the first time ever, he has nothing to say. There is no gnomic reply, just silence. Have you just outwitted the master at his own game? You thought this feeling would be more exciting, finally having the guts to give it right back to him. But as his jaw tenses and eyes droop into what could mistakenly be seen as sadness, you almost feel like you were too harsh. Until you remember how awful he was to you just this morning.
“Bye.” you murmur as you shuffle your sheet music into a folder.
Was Brendon Urie, your biggest offender, actually upset that you called him a douche? Does it really matter? Yet somehow you find a guilty feeling rising in your chest and you actually regret saying it.
“Hey (y/n), something the matter?” your friend Ryan asks leaning against the locker next to yours.
Snapping back to reality, your focus shifts to Ryan. He knows about the way Brendon treats you and he apologizes for it every day. How he even gets along with Brendon in the first place is a mystery.
“Oh nothing. What’s up?” you stutter. He gives you a confused look but waves off your awkward response.
“Well I was doing a little writing lately. I was hoping you would do me a big favor.”
“What would this favor be?”
“One of the songs I wrote, I really want some cello in the band. I was hoping you would take a look at it and drop by a rehearsal one time.”
Knowing very well that Brendon would be at that rehearsal, this is an extremely big favor to ask. But Ryan has been a good friend of ours for a long time, and you wanted to see him succeed.
“You are lucky we are friend’s Ross.” you sigh heavily as he hands over a pile of sheet music.
“What would I do without you! See you tomorrow at the bar?” he laughs.
“I suppose you will.”
The sun is starting to set as you walk down the deserted sidewalk of downtown. With your cello strapped on your back, you make your way down to the run down bar that the keyboard players dad owns. It is nice of him to let them use that space as a rehearsal area before hours. You take a deep breath before entering, knowing that this could potentially be the most grueling two hours of your life.
“Hey!” you hear that harrowing voice that you dread.
Perhaps if you just ignore him he won’t push considering yesterday’s events. But as you start to unpack your things you can hear him getting closer. Oh god.
“You know what, I am doing your band a favor so why don’t you do me a favor and leave me alone.” you warn, not letting him even test your patience.
Your answer is short and to the point. If only your voice wasn’t so unintimidating that you actually sound like a little kid trying defend themselves. But no use in backing down now.
“No! I was just…” he stumbles on his words, reaching for the right thing to say. This is the second time in two days that you have done this. Maybe he was right, maybe he is rubbing off on you.
You look at him with uninterested eyes waiting for him to respond. A faint blush creeps on his cheeks and he looks flustered.
“Shit.” he mumbles, hoping you wouldn’t hear it. But you did.
You shoot him a concoction of confused and annoyed glares as you carefully remove your cello from its case. Ryan calls for Brendon and he almost looks hurt as he walks away up to the stage. They begin with a punchy number about a strip club and a lap dance. Figures. He looks so confident up there, the way he dances around. And those vocals. Wow. He almost looks human for a moment. Wait no, you can’t be thinking about that.
“Alright, you have the sheet music for I write sins?” Ryan calls.
With a nod you head up to the stage and take a seat in the chair right between Ryan and Brendon. As if it wasn’t bad enough just to share a stage with him, you had to be sitting right next to him. You gently pluck the stings and Brendon joins in. He stares in awe at you as actually play the notes, but you are too busy getting lost in the music to notice. You take in the sound, so beautiful and pure.
“Technically our marriage is saved!” he sings.
As the song finishes, you realize that he is watching you geek out. A blush creeps up as you look away and shuffle through your music to find the next song. Why won’t he stop looking at you?
“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to stare?” you seethe, taking your stance to play the next song.
The next song is a beautifully surprising song about the tragedy that is an affair. For just being a high school band, the lyrics are really deep. Secretly, you love bringing your musical element to such a raw sounding band, but you would never let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. A quick musical interlude, it is now your time to shine. The hearty sound of your cello fills the room and you completely loose yourself for just a moment. It truly is a beautiful composition and everyone in the room feels it.
When you know it is time for Brendon to come back in, you back down your sound but he doesn’t join in. Instead he stands there, too occupied in watching you to even realize that he was supposed to sing.
“Hold up guys. Earth to Brendon? Isn’t that your cue?” you chortle in satisfaction.
“Um, five minute water break.” he stammers as he heads off the stage. He’s acting so weird today.
Despite your inner conscious telling yourself to run away, you find yourself meeting him at the water table. He has already downed half a bottle.
“What’s the matter Urie? Cat’s got your tongue?” you tease, hoping to strike a nerve.
“Just shut up.” he snaps. His words giving you all the more reason to bush his buttons.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. I said shut up!”
HIs piercing eyes flash to you and you stare right back. Two evenly revved up people standing face to face, and you wanted to come out on top. Not willing to back down, you decide you will give him the opportunity to explain himself if he can manage.
“Alright. “ you reply, crossing your arms tightly over your chest expecting a damn good explanation. “Give it to me.”
“Fine.” he hesitates, almost expecting you to walk away. “What you said yesterday. You were right. I am a douche. But.”
He shifts his weight to one hip, kicking his foot a little, like he is at a loss of words, and it feels astounding. He, Brendon, can’t even come up with a decent reason as to why he is such an ass. You have finally won. You are just about to say something, but he holds a finger over your lips and stops you.
“Ah-ah-ah!” he scolds.
“Alright.” he stars again once he knows you aren’t going to interrupt him. “But, I have this huge crush on you and that’s why.”
What the hell just happened? Unable, or unwilling to even register what he is saying, you walk back over to your seat and pluck around on your cello. With wide eyes and flustered cheeks, you shutter as he takes his stance next to you at the mic. You can’t even look at him as he stands there singing into the microphone about screwing some girl. Was he being serious? His words say one thing, but his stature says it all. It’s still not a valid excuse to make your life a living hell though. Most people when they like someone, try to make them feel good. Brendon does the exact opposite.
As the rehearsal draws to a close, you plan to sneak out of there without having to exchange another word with him. With a brisk pace and quick feet, you manage to pack up your stuff and you are almost out the door when he is back at it again.
“Wait!”he chases after you. “You don’t just get to walk out on me!”
“Really? Because after the hell you have put me through I am pretty sure I do!”
“That is so not fair! I barely got two words in!” he whines like a little child.
“Life isn’t fair Urie!”
“Just. Wait.” his hand clasps around your wrist so that you can’t escape. You would be lying if you said the physical contact didn’t turn your stomach in knots. “I’ll be in the band room second period. If you want to give me a second chance, I’ll be there.”
You tug your arm away and walk in the opposite direction. You can feel his gaze burning into your back as you walk away, and you dare not look back. What kind of drugs was this boy on? The entire walk home you try to think about something else, but all that comes to mind is Brendon’s preposition. Does he deserve a second chance? Definitely not! But something deep inside you wants to give him one, or at least another opportunity to explain himself better. Why are you even considering this?
It’s now the morning and you wake up refreshed and ready to go back to school. Looking through your closet, you sift through and try to find your best outfit. Why, you don’t even know, because you weren’t going to meet with him. But there was still a chance of bumping into him, and you wanted to show him everything that he wants and can’t have.
All through first period, you keep looking at the clock. Your knees bounce and you can’t seem to find the ability to concentrate. Are you really even contemplating giving him the time of day? It would mean skipping class! How would you explain that one to your parents? Yet when the bell rings, you find your feet carrying you to the band room instead of the math room where you are supposed to be. As you near the room, you can hear the familiar interlude that was played over a recording yesterday at the band’s rehearsal. This time, it’s being played on a piano. It sounds beautiful and flawlessly played, making you wonder if Brendon is alone?
“What am I getting myself into?” you mumble before walking into the band room.
He is sitting with his back toward the door, at the grand piano. His hands are wandering around the keys as he sways back and forth gently. You almost can’t believe that he is the same person. He’s wearing that maroon shirt that looks so good on him and that same pair or skinny jeans that… wait.
No. No. No. What are you thinking!?
“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” he chuckles, not even turning from the piano. Does he have eyes in the back of his head or something?
“No. I just.. was.. listening to you play.” you recover from being caught off guard.
“Like what you hear?” he peers over his shoulder.
“I just didn’t know you could play like that?”
“Except I wouldn’t know if real music hit me in the face.” he smirks.
Those lips pull and you feel those butterflies in your stomach start to fly around. Cut it out. You take a few steps closer to the piano and he has a full blown smile, and he looks happy.
“Don’t get too excited.” He pats the piano bench next to him. You cautiously take a seat and try to avoid any contact again. It would be too hard to pull away.
For the next half hour, he becomes like an open book. He talks about his friends, his family, and his music. You didn’t plan on staying that long, but something about those kind words and that toothy grin keeps you drawn into the conversation.
“It isn’t easy you know. Being like me?” you say just above a whisper. “Being the perfect studious person isn’t all that it seems like it is.”
He smiles at you, starting to see that unexpected hidden side of you that secretly hates being the perfect little girl. There go the butterflies again. Just as you start to relax, his knee brushes against yours and you tense up again. This brings his smile back, he stills knows how to control you.
He can tell you are starting to build up your wall again that he had just started to break down. So the conversation changes to music again. He talks about his favorite band and you talk about yours and surprisingly your tastes in music are very similar. Could he possibly be not that bad of a person?
“How did you get into the cello?” he asks.
“I don’t know. My mother thought I needed something to do as a kid, so she put me in cello lessons.” you shrug, trying to be as vague as possible.
“But why not piano?”
“I really don’t know. Too mainstream I guess.” you let out a sincere laugh.
The bells rings and you know you have to leave. Part of you didn’t want to though, which is extremely alarming. But you couldn’t justify missing two periods.
“I guess that is my cue to go.” you sigh.
“Can I walk you to your next class?”
You contemplate the pros and cons of this situation. Sure he’s been a really class A jerk to you for the past three years and everyone would look at your weird. But it sure is nice to not walk through the halls alone. He’s looking at you waiting for a response and is quite frankly worried about how much time you spend zoning out.
“I guess that would…be alright. But no funny stunts Urie!” you wave a finger at him.
“Me? Stunts! Why I never!” he places his hand over his heart.
That mischievously crooked smile of his returns and you immediately regret your decision, but there was no going back now. He gestures out for you to walk out first, being the gentleman he has never been. You duck into the hallway and he follows. It feels weird to have someone walk next to you. People would clap him on the shoulder or give him a nod as we passed. Is this what it is like to not be invisible?
“Do you know everyone in this school?” you ask.
“No.” his hand brushes against your thigh and you just bout double over. He notices the redness taking over your cheeks and he chuckles. “But being in a band does help.”
You reach your classroom and awkwardly shift your weight waiting for what comes next. You weren’t sure if you just leave or were you supposed to hug him? If so that wasn’t going to happen.
“I’ll see you seventh period.” he smiles, dropping a piece of paper into your notes. When you get to your seat, you find scribbled lyrics. Something about a girl.
Let’s just say you couldn’t believe that just happened.
Seventh hour rolls around and Brendon is nowhere to be found. Honestly you are a bit relieved because you have conflicting feelings. Ones that you don’t want to address. So as usual, you shut yourself in the small room and zone out. As you write a small note in your sheet music, a voice startles you causing you to drop your pencil.
“Geeze. Someone’s on the edge?” he teases. This time it doesn’t irritate you as much, which doesn’t make you feel any better.
“No. You came in here and screamed my name.”
He sits down next to you and places his fingers on the ivory keys of the stand up piano. You glance over at him with a perplexed expression and wait for a response.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“I have something to show you.”
He starts to play a song, a soft melody. He begins to hum along but you can’t make out quite what he is saying. So you just listen.
“What do you think?”
“It’s cool. Did you write that?”
He just shrugs, turning to look at you. The space between the two of you is very limited, and you feel like this isn’t going to end well. You stare up at him with beady eyes, and his hand abruptly falls against your thigh. You aren’t sure how to react, if you should be scared or pleased, annoyed, or all of the above. He leans in closely, his lips just ghosting over yours. It’s so close, so hot, everything that you could have imagined it being. In all honesty it scares you that it got to this point so fast, but you weren’t about to object either. What you don’t expect is him pulling back with that same mischievous smile, leaving you conflicted and turned on.
“What?” you say just barely above a whisper.
“I should get to class.” he gets up, allowing a sudden rush of cool air to hit you.
“What.” is all you can manage.
With that he gets up and shuts the door. You gape at him through the window and flip him off. This causes him to chuckle and shake his head at you. Curse that boy and his stupid charm. Now that you are a puddle of feelings, there isn’t any use in trying to get anything productive done.
The next time you see him is at another rehearsal two days later. Its a monday now, a pitiful start to a stressful week. Ryan had asked you if you wanted to play again to see how things are working out, and you used this as a sad excused to see Brendon. You are still mad at him for the band room incident, but you can’t help yourself.
“Ryan?” you call out to the empty bar.
Peering around the corner you hope to find them in one of the back rooms. Your heart jumps a little and you have to tell yourself to calm down when you find Brendon in the back, alone.
“Oh, hey.” he smiles at you.
Deciding to be sly and make him repay for his actions the other day, you give him the slightest bit of attention. Let the flirty attitude commence.
“Hello.” You say bending over to pick up your cello. He can’t help but look.
“Can’t get enough can you?” he smirks.
Two can play at this game Urie.
You sit down, flipping your hair out of the way with a perky smile. You can’t help but noticed he bites down on his lip as you sit there plucking at the strings of your instrument.
“Can I help you?” you pout at him a little.
“I don’t know. Can you?” he sends a wink and your stomach is in knots. Hold it together. He isn’t going to win this one.
“You look cute today. Thought I should let you know.”
“Flattery corrupts both the receiver and the giver, Brendon. You of all people should know.”
“Your cheeks would say otherwise.” You look up at him, realizing he is right.
You try to will yourself down but that only flusters you even more. God, why does he have this affect on you? You adjust your sweater in a desperate attempt to cover up the evidence.
“Buzz off.” you return back to your instrument.
“What? Can handle a little banter? Heart beating a little faster isn’t it?” He walks up behind you, placing his hand right over your heart. A grin pulls as he realizes your heart is going faster than a bullet.
Your hand slips from the bow causing this deep, awkward note to sound through the room. Your eyes grow wide and this fuels your anger. Standing up you face him, trying to square up and be somewhat intimidating.
“Listen here. I didn’t come here to play games.”
“Neither did I.” he takes a step closer. A wave of vulnerability and desire fight within you and you aren’t sure what comes next.
His hand lands on the smallest portion of your back. You stiffen at the abrupt gesture, and raise your eyebrows as his fingers fumble with the waist of your pants. He stares at you with that all too familiar twinkle of joyful energy in his eyes.
“I could get used to this you know.” He leans in close, whispering into your ear.
“This. Us.” His lip grazes your ear and for a moment you weren’t sure if you could remember how to speak.
“There isn’t any us.” you breathe.
“Really, because your voice says otherwise.” You can hear the smirk in his words alone, you didn’t have to see to know. “You want me.”
“Do not.” you stutter.
“So if I did this, it wouldn’t mean anything?” He places his lips on the tender skin on the corner of your jaw. They are even softer than you had expected.
Your hand falls against his chest to steady yourself. His lips work their way up to your lips, gently teasing the delicate skin. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want more, and your hand possessively taking a fist full of his shirt gives it all away. As if your breathing growing infinitely heavier wasn’t enough.
It takes everything in you not to let a soft moan or hum pass your lips, but now was not the time or place for such a thing, you wanted to prove a point. But as his lips brush against your for the second time, you can’t quite stifle it fast enough. He pauses for a moment, and thank god he does because Ryan walks in with Spencer. You turn away from Brendon sharply and pick up your cello.
“Everything good in here?” Ryan chuckles almost surprised.
“Yeah.” you say shortly.
Taking the quickest way out, you grab your cello and dash out of the room as fast as you can. Brendon never lets his gaze leave you. Making your way over to the chair that you sat in a few days ago, you sit and start to play to take your mind away. Just out of habit you start to play a Bach suite. It comes so naturally to you that you don’t even have to think about it. For a moment you can completely zone out and forget why you are even here in the first place.
Unknown to you, Brendon stands in the doorframe completely enthralled with watching you play. It amazes him how dynamic your playing is, and you make it look so effortless.
“Did you know she could play like this?” he says wide eyed to Ryan.
“Yeah, and if you didn’t spend every moment tormenting her at school you would too.”
“You can practically hear her music pouring through the hallways during seventh and fourth period.” Spencer adds.
Brendon marches on stage, startling you out of your daydream.
“Oh sorry.” you mumble.
You stay quiet, unable to look at Brendon. The feeling of his lips still burns on your neck. You long for them to be there again, but that isn’t the answer. His voice fills the empty room. It sounds so powerful and strong and it makes you go weak in the knees.
“I’m a diva! Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin. I’m the new cancer, never looked better, and you can’t stand it!” you scoff at his cocky lyrics.
Then it sets in. He is the new cancer. Your new cancer. And you can’t stand it. You didn’t want him to be, but it just sorta happened.
“Let’s run Build God.” He says and that is your cue.
You manage to look at him from behind loose strands of fallen hair as you hunch over your cello. He looks so comfortable and confident. The microphone it definitely his place. You secretly hate him for being so confident, wishing you could be too.
That night you exchange numbers with him after rehearsal.
Three days later as you are sitting on your couch, surrounded by a massive pile of notes, you get a text. You almost didn’t answer it because of all the studying you have to do, but something beyond your senses decided it was best to look. He texted you.
meet me at the bar in 20
You blink at your phone almost in shock at the text. He blatantly asked you to meet him somewhere, in public. Your hands tremble a little as you debate as to what you should do. On one hand, you know that you have way too much homework to do and you should stay here and do it. But you really wanted to see him. You go with your heart.
see you then.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you can’t believe you looked like this all day at school. In a sad attempt to look better, you let your hair down from a messy bun. A little better. You throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, and a coat of lip gloss for good measure. Out the door you go.
With your cello strapped to your shoulders, you walk down the leaf covered sidewalks. You try to stay conscious of your pace but your feet have a mind of their own. When you get to the bar, you realize you are five minutes early. But it’s okay because he is too.
“Where is everyone else?” you ask, stepping into the dimly lit room.
“Just me and you tonight.” he smiles, making you shake in your boots.
“Don’t look so scared (y/n).” he says patting the stool next to him.
Like a timid little child, you sit down next to him. He looks at you with a flight frown trying to decide what to do.
“I know what you need.” he gets up and rummages around behind the counter. When he pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses you immediately interject.
“Ah. Shh. He won’t mind.” he says pouring two glasses.
You take the liquid gold in your hands and swirl it around. You aren’t much of a drinker, but the idea of it taking the edge off really sounds like just what you need. You are never going to be able to explain this one to your parents.
“It isn’t going to kill you.” he sits back down next to you.
His knee bumps into yours again and you muster up enough bravery to take a swig from the glass. You cringe a little as it burns, but then you realize it did just the trick. He looks down at the traces of lip gloss left on the rim of your cup, and then back up at you. A look that makes your stomach flip.
“I know it’s not.” you say looking at your glass.
“Not much of a drinker I take it?”
“I can handle myself. I just never saw the point.”
“But it makes you feel good.”
He’s right. Your jitters for the most part are gone. You take another swig of your drink and turn to pick up your cello.
“I wasn’t planning on pract…” you cut him off.
“I know. I’ve just been working on something that I wanted to show you.”
Now it’s your turn to put everything out there. Music has and always will be your way of expressing yourself, and this was a grand gesture. You have been working day in and day out to compose a full score for Build god, and truly it is a work of art. The notes are stealthy and low, much like your relationship with Brendon. He watches as you pluck at the strings, admires your form as you glide your bow so precisely.
“It’s beautiful.” he says, his words tickling the back of your neck. “Show me how you play those soft notes again.”
You bend over your instrument and take your fingers delicately to the strings. He carefully watches your fingers as they dance around joyfully.
“You just have to be careful.” you smile at him.
As you turn your head toward him, you feel his lips push into yours unexpectedly. There go those damn butterflies again. Why is it that every time he touches you, you feel like you are moving at the speed of light. He stinkin’ knows it too.
“Bren..” you mumble against his lips.
It isn’t very long before his arms are around you, pressing you against his chest. His hands roam around your body delicately, like he’s handling you like a cello. Finally his hands settle on the curve of your waist and it makes you feel weightless. This is the kind of kiss that makes heat radiate to your core, and your chest to fill with a certain desire that you have never experienced before.
His hand swiftly glides down to your thigh, where he helps aid your leg around his hips. Gladly, you help as he supports your weight and carries you over to a barstool. It both surprises you and turns you on at how adept he is at this. Truth be told it’s intimidating.
“Say it.” he pants.
“That I was right.” he flashes that cheeky smirk that makes you forget everything else.
“Fine. I’m into you. Okay?” you sigh.
He moves over to your collar bones, planting soft, wet kisses along the outline. Your head dips back and your eyes flutter a little and he knows he has you right where he wants you. Praying for love. Your fingers shake with energy and nervousness as they land on his chest. The constant contact is almost too much to handle, but you don’t want it to stop. Unfortunately for you, he has other plans in mind. He fumbles with the hem of your shirt, creeping a fingertip up against the skin of your stomach. His hand slides farther up your shirt and you pray to god that you don’t mess this up.
Of course you freeze when this happens. You have a big secret that he isn’t aware of, and you weren’t quite sure how he would react. You swallow hard, dreading having to tell him that you haven’t ever gone farther than a kiss with anyone. Ever. Of course he retracts his hand when you tense up, and it almost makes you feel worse. With a ‘baby deer in the headlights’ look, you glance up at him.
“What’s wrong?” he says soberly.
“I’m sorry.” you whimper, trying to slide off of the barstool to retrieve your items. Fortunately for you his reaction time is faster than you are.
His hand clasps around your waist and holds you from escaping, the other is holding your wrist. You want nothing more than to retract into yourself and become invisible, but you well know that you need to face your fears.
“I…um… god.” you sigh. “I haven’t ever…been… with anyone. If you know what I mean.. and..” you trail off.
He looks at you with a whole new expression, one that you can’t quite decipher. His eyes look softer, and his smile has faded. Perhaps its the innocence of it all, or maybe just the terrified expression that lurks on your face, but the next thing his does is completely unexpected. His arms wrap tightly around your frame, pressing you as close as possible. Is he really hugging you? After you told him you are indeed a virgin?
“I don’t understand?” you mumble.
“Do you trust me?” he looks at you.
Do you trust him? You just met him. You have no reason to trust him. But something deep in your core really did trust him. Maybe that was the alcohol talking, but you nod a faint yes, unable to form the words you so wanted to say.
His steady hands peel off your cardigan from your arms, revealing your lightly freckled shoulders. He spins you around and presses his lips to the top of your shoulder. It’s soft and breathy, everything you hoped for and more. One hand slides under your shirt again, firmly pressing against your stomach. The funny thing is, he doesn’t try anything. No slipping hands, no awkward grabs, just warm contact. It’s an odd sensation to have someone so close, especially when you are at your most vulnerable point.
Its all very overwhelming and you feel yourself starting to distance from the situation. Pulling away again, you feel so bad for putting him through this. You take a few steps toward your cello, running your hands roughly through your hair, and blowing out an exasperated huff more irritated with yourself than anything.
“Wow.” he smiles brightly looking at you in the dim yellow light. “You are so beautiful.”
“Bullshit.” you throw your hands to your sides. You didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that it’s out in the open you can’t really take it back. Curse you and your word vomit.
“It’s not bullshit.” he takes a few closer to you cautiously. “I get that you have boundaries, and I am willing to respect every one of them. But standing here, right now, you are beautiful. And I don’t really want to stop kissing you.”
You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Ten days ago you would never have imagined him being this caring human that actually has a heart. Yet here you stand, faced with a big decision.
“Then kiss me.” you say shaking a bit.
In two long strides he is there, taking you in again. His hands are wound up in your hair and his lips are tangled with yours. You didn’t realize that bitter taste of alcohol on his breath until now, and oddly enough it re-energizes you. It’s amazing how he can make you feel so many things all at the same time. How he does it is a mystery, and you didn’t want to solve it.
Taking you by the hand, he leads you over to the stand up piano that sits on the raised stage. He lifts you up and climbs up, taking a seat on the rickety piano bench.
“You showed me something. Now it’s my turn to show you something.”
His hands dance around the keys again, this time to a tune that you don’t recognize. His focus is razor sharp as he plays. When he starts to sing, you think back to that piece of paper he handed you a few days ago, with the lyrics about a boy and a girl scribbled on it. That’s the song. This time it’s you who watches in adoration as he spills out his feelings through his music. Holy crap. You are completely and utterly in love with Brendon Urie.
“Did you write that for me?” you ask, tears welling up in your eyes.
“I did indeed.” he smiles softly. “Hey.”
“Crap I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually emotional.” you laugh away the tear that is rolling down your cheek. He swipes it away with the pad of his thumb.
“It’s kinda cute, actually.” he admits.
“So where does this leave us?” you ask avoiding his eyes.
“Well… I was thinking.. maybe we could start a relationship. With real dates, kisses, hand holding, all that shit.” he asks reaching for your hand.