A/N: So this comes as truly just a crack fic. Because the song demanded a story. "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots. I love the band. I love the lead singer/rapper Tyler Joseph. And though I have not seen the movie "Suicide Squad" I have heard that it is a wonderful movie, and it also plays to my love of dark comic books.

This is an embrace of the angst fandom. An embrace of the Fruits Basket fandom. And a celebration of the many many wonderful and creative authors I have met on this site, and now call my friends.

You guys know who you are.

And you should have seen this one coming.

I had always fantasized about pain and misery. Romanticized about it, to an extent, maybe. And those that openly wrote about it. I wanted to meet them. Be them. Join their ranks. Did that make me bad? Evil? Twisted in some way? Perhaps. And if anyone ever knew about this desire of mine...they would most likely say yes. That I was damned and depraved.

But I knew I couldn't be alone. Like minded people were out there...right?

I just needed to know somebody who knew somebody. That's how this worked. Get to know someone on the inside. Have them take me to meet the others. In order to enter into this closed off underground of tight nit angst writers, I needed an in.

And my in was Tyler.

He claimed to know some of the writers down here. Not the 'really' famous ones. But...in my mind...you didn't have to necessarily be famous to be edgy. And that's what I was really looking for. As he led me by the hand down the steps leading to this underground hub of angst writers, something he had told me about these people wrapped its tendrils around my mind.

Whispering to me.

All my friends are heathens. Take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse

I still didn't quite understand what he had meant by this. But when he had said this to me, it only served to send a thrill of delight through my soul.

I was going to finally meet them.

As we paused just outside this unassuming, though slightly ominous establishment, I felt the grip along my hand tighten as he stopped me where we stood. Right outside...just out of reach of these people. My people. The ones I really wanted to meet. And I shot him a perturbed scowl at having made it this far only to be deprived now...when I was so close. So very close. And as I held his gaze, I felt the strength of his grip move to my wrist as he tugged me close, his voice meeting my ear in a melodic tone of warm breath.

"All my friends are heathens. Take it slow." He began to whisper these same ominous instructions to me once more. "Wait for them to ask you who you know." His voice dropped to a hushed whisper, almost desperate in the way he warned me. "Please don't make any sudden moves." He begged. "You don't know the half of the abuse."

This warning made my body tremble in equal parts fear and elation. Finally... Finally, I was going to meet those most like myself, or so I thought, as he once again claimed my hand...fingers lacing mine as he led me into the darkened room. And as we entered in tandem to a strange beat, his voice began to match its pace and tempo as he spoke to me in hushed tones of those I was about to meet.

"Welcome to the room of people who have rooms of people that they loved one day. Docked away." He murmured this to me as we made our way through a room of people I had only ever dreamed about meeting as I read their various works. "Just because we check the guns at the door, doesn't mean our brains will change...from hand grenades." This came ominously as if he truly believed I were in some danger in being here with him now.

In the presence of these people.

He made them sound like beasts. Barbaric, monstrous animals in need of being caged. As if the words they had written could do me harm. As if they...could do me harm. Would do me harm...if given the chance.

If I were left alone with them.

And...one by one...he began to point them out to me. The writers of an angst underground I longed to be a part of.

"You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you."

He discreetly pointed out a writer buried in their laptop in the process of creating yet another dark world. A writer with an almost agonized expression on their face viewing the world through ancient, haunted eyes that I assumed had been plagued by sights no mortal man should see. As if they felt everything. So...they wrote about it. Put the pain into words. Tyler said that this 'psychopath' was writing under the name Fandom Angst. And I realized that I had heard of them. I had read their work, and it had damaged me. I watched them for a moment, only a moment from where they sat, their slender legs extended and sprawled along the lap of the next writer to be pointed out.

"You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you."

The writer now mentioned and thus dubbed a 'murderer' was preoccupied with the crucifix delicately suspended from her neck. Delicate fingertips absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace, the other tiny hand coming to rest unobtrusively along the legs of the so-called psychopath. But this tender act seemed almost terrifyingly possessive and animalistically territorial. And Tyler whispered that this angelic face with golden tresses was Killer Disco Queen. I didn't automatically recognize the name, but he informed me that she had gone by many others. As he listed them off, one of them hit me like a sledge hammer. The Character's Death. That name I had heard of. Unlike Fandom Angst, I heard rumors that this writer didn't feel anything at all. Nothing. And I had always wondered if that were really true.

"You'll think, 'How'd I get here, sitting next to you?'" Tyler whispered in my ear. "But after all I've said." I heard this sung melodically in my ear, drawing my attention from these two. "Please don't forget." And again, Tyler warned me of the perils of having come here with him tonight.

"All my friends are heathens, take it slow. Wait for them to ask you who you know. Please don't make any sudden moves." This was breathed in my ear. "You don't know the half of the abuse."

"We don't deal with outsiders very well." He spoke lightly as we entered further into this den of devils. "They say newcomers have a certain smell." I swear the man gave a small smirk to this as he offered me a discreet side glance before continuing, leaning in as he whispered in my ear. "You have trust issues, not to mention...they say they can smell your intentions." And my eyes grew large in surprise at his words as my gaze darted from face to face...some of them watching me.

Coldly regarding my pretense as they scrutinized me. Sizing me up as if they wished to devour me.

"You'll never know the freakshow sitting next to you."

He murmured to me as my eyes fell along a delicate creature in the throes of fascination towards her scar riddled flesh. She was beautiful. And I couldn't help myself staring as he spoke her name. MoonlitAtMidnight. So called...because she never slept. Her dark thoughts drove her to write. And so...she never slept.

"You'll have some weird people sitting next to you."

Tyler pointed to a relatively normal looking writer. Not weird in the slightest, actually. When I inquired as to who they were, he said that they went by the pen name SweetLiars.

I asked why.

He just smiled, never answering my question.

"You'll think, 'How did I get here, sitting next to you?'" Tyler assured me in the light sing-song tone of voice as we sat away from these depraved, beautiful souls. "But after all I've said..." His voice began to fade away from me as he breathed in my ear, my gaze drifting from face to face. "Please don't forget." The blue, storm cloud gaze of Killer Disco Queen lifted from her companions legs to meet mine as I watched her lifeless lips silently mouth from across the room.

'Watch it.'

"Watch it." Tyler echoed this warning in my ear as I quickly dropped my gaze.

And he began to scold my dangerously bold behavior.

"All my friends are heathens. Take it slow." He harshly reminded me. "Wait for them to ask you who you know." I heard him chastise in a soft hiss. "Please don't make any sudden moves. You don't know the half of the abuse" This came equal parts plea and reprimand as his ominous words swirled dangerously through my mind.

All my friends are heathens. Take it slow
(watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know
(watch it)
Please. All my friends are heathens. Take it slow
(watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know

"Why'd you come, you knew you should have stayed." This accusation came hissed from his lips as my eyes fell to Fandom Angst and Killer Disco Queen.

They were both looking at me now. One regarding me through a trauma stricken gaze. The other through a blank, lifeless expression as I watched Killer Disco Queen lean towards her companion, cold eyes never leaving mine as I watched her silently mouth once more to her grief stricken counterpart.

'It's blasphemy.'

"I tried to warn you just to stay away." This warning drew my gaze to Tyler's almost caustic expression. "And now they're outside ready to bust." My eyes went from the room, to the exit, as I contemplated running from this place of horror.

It was clear that they didn't want me here. That I was unwelcome. I didn't belong here. I should have run. But before I could escape this place of perpetual darkness I heard his cold voice whisper in my ear.

"It looks like you might be one of us."

THE END