rock on! | inanimate insanity au

prologue

The moment that Microphone saw her belongings floating around in the murky water of the toilet; she knew it would get worse from here. It was the antics of her bullies — but what could she do? She feared her life when she came into the school building, cowering in fear of what they could do to her. It was a constant battle with herself and them, who had power over her actions, using her like a puppet on strings for their own handiwork — because they knew she wouldn't fight back, to keep her life safe.

Highschool can be one of the most scariest moments in your life, alongside being one of the most harmful for some. More often than not, it's always turned to a hurtful route as you continue further down the path, being greeted with nothing but the destructive side of humanity. People are ruthless, evil — some say that you belong somewhere that isn't here, but do you believe that?

Nobody cared for Microphone and her wellbeing, aside from her friends and family — who didn't know about her bullying, at least not to a full extent anyway. Here at Indefinite High, there was no room for people who stood out — they expected you to be like everyone else, and it's how things ran around here. If you were different, people would push you around until you couldn't take the pressure anymore.

She stood out like a sore thumb — her black, curly hair had a blue streak going down the front, while her eyes were a dark purple, uniform styled with various bits and bobs she had grabbed from her house. The backpack which rested on her back was a dark grey, covered in keychains and paint stains — as she wrapped her headphones around her fingers, the wire tangling and almost getting caught in her nails as she walked down the long, winding hallways of the school, which was crowded.

The sound of people in the halls was almost deafening to the ear — leading to her untangling her headphones and putting them into her ears, music blasting loudly without a second thought. Microphone couldn't locate where her friends were, which was making her lingering fear begin to grow — maybe they were in the practice rooms? Yes. They had to be there.

Other girls talked about the cute guys in their class while getting ready for P.E, while she spent her time fantasizing over what her future with a girl would be like. They flirted with guys, went on dates and even drank at parties — and she just laughed along, picking a random guy to have a fake crush on, knowing that she'd never be interested in him. It was all to fit in with the other girls.

People noticed that she was weird, not normal — an outcast, that she didn't know how to talk to people and she couldn't get with the guys like everyone else could. She had the potential, is what the other females told her; but she didn't want to take a guy out. It wasn't what her wishes for life was.

Which led people to become distant. Her former friends noticed how her touches lingered, that she had never kissed a guy on the lips — she wasn't like them, and they realised that she never will be. They grew distant. Nobody ever said anything, because they wanted the assumption to be completely wrong, but in their eyes, it was the right choice.

Things got worse quickly. People joked, making her look like a fool. The other girls would pick at her — throwing scrunched up paper at her face, insulting her behind her back, or even straight to her face. It soon became physical, meaning she now had small bruises, which soon grew to be larger and larger, leading to her having to cover them with makeup before she got home.

People didn't like her, and she'd never understand why.

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The blog was small, around ten followers — nothing special, they weren't famous or anything like that. All that Lightbulb and Fan posted was selfies together, or small summaries or their day — the occasional art piece being posted. Not many followers were brought in, and it was a total bummer — it was a goal for them both, to be popular and well-known throughout the school.

Fan and Lightbulb weren't necessarily outcasts — they were just dorks. People talked to them, and they talked to people, but they wouldn't dare to approach anyone who was too well known in the school, in fear of getting made fun of. They didn't know Mic, but they've seen how she was treated, and they didn't want that to be them.

Internet kids — the two of them loved the media, anything mildly interesting. Indie games, YouTube series, websites, you name it. They enjoyed being together, even if it meant getting made fun of. They had other friends, but these two were best friends — every day they hung out together, and if one wasn't going, the other wouldn't.

"You see, if we post stuff like this, everyone will see the blog!" She chirped, clasping his hands — which made him flush a little, but he'd shake his head and brush it right off. That wasn't important, the blog was.

"You're right. We should start right away," He'd smile, opening his backpack and taking out his laptop so that they could begin typing.

But this blog that they ran only got them into more trouble than they could handle.

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You could follow their stories. But there's so many more — the variety of pupils here at Indefinite High is large, but not zero. Everyone here has their problems, and the more you explore, the more that uncovers itself. Take a deep dive into each student and figure out what's going on in their life — maybe they're the victim, or maybe they're the bully. These students all have their flaws, they all have their problems, and even the teachers do too. Come along, watch them chase their dreams, or watch others fail and come to the end of their chapter in life — they did what they could, and it wasn't enough.

Every story is different.

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end of prologue.