Rewriting to improve writing.
"Gods are born out of the need of humans but they shall die at the hands of the ones they've wronged."
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The world of demigods has never been a safe one, plagued by monsters, the wrath of gods, and the impending d...
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"When life gets tough, that's when you realize the importance of digging your roots in deeper."
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Song: Long Black Night- Kim Yeji.
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Field Trips Are a Nightmare When You Have the Backstreet Version of the Backstreet Boys in Your Class (And trust me, no one asked for this remix.)
Y/N was having what could only be described as an almost great time. "Almost," because in her world, something as simple as staring outside the window of a moving school bus could be a deeply philosophical experience. It was like the universe was out there, just beyond the smeared glass, whirling in its chaotic glory, bursting with color, light, and motion, all screaming for attention like a cheap, over-the-top musical. The trees swayed dramatically, as if they were part of some off-Broadway show that refused to close. Trucks zipped by with their logos plastered across the sides, each one promising something she couldn't care less about—be it tires, water heaters, or insurance deals.
But there was something about the blur of scenery that soothed her. Maybe it was the fact that, in this temporary escape from her usual boxed-in reality, she didn't have to think. Didn't have to process anything except the gentle (well, mostly) hum of the engine and the vibrating seat under her.
And then there were the boys.
The Backstreet version of the Backstreet Boys—five 16-year-old boys who, in their heads, were apparently auditioning for the next big thing. They were singing. No, scratch that. They were screaming. And not the good kind of scream, like the ones in metal concerts where you at least feel like someone's passionately pouring their soul into the music. No. This was the kind of screeching that made Y/N want to personally file a noise complaint with the universe.
"YOU ARE MY FIRE!" they howled, with all the musical grace of a cat who had just discovered a mirror and thought it was another cat threatening its territory. "THE ONE DESIRE!"
Y/N stared out the window, willing herself to teleport far, far away. Anywhere. Please, she thought, clutching her ears, throw yourself into said fire. Kind regards, Y/N.
Every lyric felt like a personal insult. This wasn't music; it was a brutal attack on her eardrums. The worst part? They thought they were good. As if somehow, the world was waiting for a boy band revival, but this time with more voice cracks and less talent.
The bus hit a bump. Y/N's brain felt like it ricocheted off the inside of her skull. Fantastic. Now, on top of the auditory nightmare, she had a mild headache forming. Field trips were supposed to be an escape—a way out of the daily torture that was the classroom. The walls of that place felt like they were closing in on her every second, stifling her with the smell of dry-erase markers and teenage angst. But here? Here she was free. Free to watch the world zoom by and pretend that nothing else existed. Except now she was also free to enjoy this impromptu, earsplitting concert from the self-proclaimed Next Big Thing.
