#how do I worm this into my senior year au

[can-a-tuna-fish]

Guys Rich was actually in Jeremy and Michael’s failed middle school D&D party, the only reason they don’t remember him is cause it was before he transitioned! Ugh! AND Jenna was there for a bit too, but she dropped the club because nobody paid attention while she was taking her turns :((

#this is canon I was the dice #how do I worm this into my senior year au #‘you don’t remember me from D&D club do you >:(‘ #these freaks freak me out #truly madly deeply #the things i would do for Jenna I’m not kidding #genuinely I think that she probably had the shittiest middle school experience ever I’m so sorry jenna #school D&D clubs ate and always has been a hell scape for teenage girls and I’m tired of pretending they aren’t #are* #be more chill #bmc #jeremy heere #michael mell #rich goranski #jenna rolan #oh my god save me ex-nerd who was driven away from further participating in her hobbies at a young age #bmc musical #txt post

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

 (Tickle) Fight Club

Panda's Notes: Hello, hi, yes, I have been slightly obsessing over this AU for the past few months, and I finally finished...a part. >w< Buckle in, kids, this is a lot longer than I first thought it would be. You can once again thank the lovely @rosileeduckie for facilitating my nonsense.

...What? No, I totally don't have recent commitments that have an encroaching deadline. What are you talking about?!

[Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

Warning: ~10K words about Miles brutalizing some folks. Enjoy. >w<

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miles had a terrible habit of getting drawn in by Ganke’s nonsense.

“Hey, that character looks sick; you make that?” turned into binging episodes of an anime every night through junior year. He wasn’t complaining, but somewhere between the third movie and the 700th episode, it was a miracle his grades hadn’t completely tanked.

“Dude, nice shirt! Do those, like, spell something, or…?” became an entirely different binge through half of senior year. And Miles maybe fudged the truth a bit with one of his art teachers when he submitted a project that was only loosely inspired. Again, not complaining!

“Oh, nice mash-up, man; I loved that song when I was a kid, but I don’t know where it’s from.” You’ll never guess what happened after that. Those games were fire, though, and at least this time, he could move at his own pace, even if Ganke was nagging him over text every few days while he was away at college to geek out.

When Freshman year ended—finally, thank the gods—and Miles returned to New York, he was met at the train station by Ganke and immediately dragged to the apartment he was sharing with—

“You moved in with my brother?!” He asked in disbelief. “Wait, I didn’t even know he left home!”

“Well, technically… Your parents don’t entirely know yet—”

“What?!”

“—And he hasn’t actually moved out. I did. We just split rent here. Both of us have jobs and projects going pretty well, and he kinda just tells them he’s hanging out at my place, which is technically still true; they just don’t know my parents aren’t here—”

“Hold up, wait—” Miles flailed a bit to interrupt Ganke’s rambling. “Gross; is this like ya’ll’s love nest or something?”

Ganke’s arms dropped to his sides, a bright blush coloring his pouting face as he glared at Miles. Miles just snickered and crossed his arms tauntingly. “I’m not hearing a no, Mr. Lee~”

“Y’know, when he tossed out the idea of letting you borrow his room while he’s at school—just, like, use it as an extra little art room or whatever—I thought ‘wow, just like when we were roommates at Visions; how funny!’. But now, I’m gonna tell him you’re banned.”

“Pfft, what?!” Miles giggled, following Ganke toward the back of the apartment.

“Yep, calling him right now…” Ganke pulled his phone out of his pocket all dramatically, pretending to scroll through it.

“Ooh, I bet you have him saved under something dorky~” Miles had lunged forward, hands squeezing playfully at Ganke’s sides as he made obviously fake efforts to peek at his phone. He had a sort of squawking-type laugh whenever he was caught off guard, and Miles loved it. Even when they first met back in high school, Miles had made a habit of sneaking up and prodding him. They liked to get into little fights, usually ending in Miles wrestling Ganke into an easy pin while sneaking scribbles up his sides.

This is important information, because today, and today alone, Ganke suddenly wrenched his arm out from under his own weight, hooking Miles by the arm and rolling both of them into a reversed position. He sat heavily on Miles’ waist, his hands quickly moving to try and worm fingers into his armpits. Miles’ legs kicked as he hugged his arms tight to his sides, and his voice was tangled in nervous squeaks and giggles.

“Someone’s awfully squeaky for starting a fight with the one who knows your weak spots.” Ganke sneered, pressing lightly along the edges of Miles’ ribs to try and slip through his defenses.

“W-When did you get good at wrestling?” He asked through clenched teeth, trying to twist to one side.

“Hm, probably around the time you started sucking at it.” Ganke taunted, raising his hands slightly and wiggling his fingers.

“I do not!” Miles argued with a laugh, his leg kicking out when a few fingers traced along his neck. There was a jarring thump, and despite Miles apparently not feeling pain all of a sudden, both of them were concerned when a few things fell off of the dresser he’d kicked.

“Goddamn, you have been here for ten minutes, and you’re destroying the place!” Ganke teased, pushing himself up off of his poor guest.

“That was not my fault, and you know it.” Miles giggled as he sat up, picking up the picture frame that had fallen beside him. He glanced at it as he stood up, curiosity taking over his face as he realized something.

“Hey, wait a second; I’ve never seen you wear this!” He noted with a laugh as he got to his feet. Ganke peeked over his shoulder, and a chuckle slipped out as he remembered the photo. He was in some costume, mostly purple and some bright green. Looked like a cut-off t-shirt under a biker jacket. There was a paw print drawn on his stomach and whiskers drawn on his cheeks, and he was grinning like a champion as he held up what looked like a gold medal. If it was the same medal dangling from a hook next to the mirror, it was definitely plastic.

“Haven’t worn it in a while either.” Ganke shrugged, taking the frame and setting it just so under where the medal hung. “I should probably bring it home and wash it, actually.” He reached up and pulled the medal off the hook, smiling fondly as he ran his thumb over the feathers embossed in the plastic. He smirked slightly as he caught Miles staring at it in that all-too-familiar way.

“You wanna know how I got it~?” He asked almost tauntingly, and he laughed as Miles slapped his arm and pouted.

He seemed to be physically struggling with himself, crossing his arms as he kicked childishly at the carpet. “…Yeah.” He admitted, smiling in defeat.

-----------

“Okay, so, final checklist: the safe word is Blackout.” Ganke explained as he led Miles down the hall from the changing room. “It’s the real deal though; we basically shut the whole thing down. Very different from tapping out. Do not confuse the two. What’s the safe word?”

“Blackout.” Miles said firmly, wrapping the last loop of tape around his hand and cracking his knuckles softly.

“Nice.”

Miles was wearing a slightly loose t-shirt—kindly loaned by Ganke—and some old basketball shorts. Ganke had been pretty coy about what all this was supposed to be. He seemed to struggle with what to tell Miles without giving the whole thing away. He eventually settled on saying it was somewhere between wrestling and improv club. And, coincidentally, there was an “open tournament” coming up. It was one of the ways they invited new members; the “hands-on” way, so to speak.

“Let me see your nails…” Ganke murmured, taking each of Miles’ hands for a moment as they walked. “Okay, so, we have a little side room you’ll be waiting in. You’ll know the signal when you hear it. You’re still cool with the audience, right? It’s just the theater dorks from the other side of the building; twenty people, max.”

“I’m fine with a little crowd.” Miles chuckled, shifting closer to elbow him gently. “You still haven’t told me what’s going to happen though.”

Ganke laughed lightly and shrugged. “What’s to know? You either pin your opponent for ten seconds or you tap out if you can’t handle it. Nothing else at all~”

“You are awful.”

They chuckled with each other for a moment before quick footsteps suddenly approached from behind them. Two people jogged past them with hoods up, laughing casually as they waved at Ganke and kept running.

“Hey, you guys are late!” Ganke scolded playfully as they disappeared through a door.

“Oh, we’re late?” Miles almost flinched at the sound of a third, heavily accented voice, and someone purposefully shouldered past him. More like elbowed past him, really, which Miles realized when he turned to see a man at least a head taller than him sauntering by. “Shouldn’t you be in the booth then, mate?” His hair was done up in thick locs, and those were tied back behind his head. The man’s dark eyes fell on Miles like a weight, but he smirked as he lifted a hand from his pocket and lightly tapped Miles’ shoulder with the back of it. “Ey, you brought a new fish. Looks like he won’t last a minute.”

Miles scoffed silently, managing to contain his offended face as the man sneered and stepped away. “What’s his problem?” He asked Ganke, trying not to smile.

Ganke shrugged and snickered. “We wonder that every day, man.”

“He thinks he’s the final boss or something?” Miles asked just a bit louder than necessary, a grin pulling his lips as the man stopped and looked pointedly back at them.

Ganke looked between them for a moment, grinning a bit himself as he moved to block them. “Okay, I see where this is going. Save it for the ring, you nerds!” He teased, pressing his palm to Miles’ chest and shooing the other man away. “On ya bike, then!”

The tall man snorted, throwing his hands up as he turned and went through the door the others had used. Ganke smirked as he nudged Miles to a different door.

“You go in through here. There’s an exit on the other side. Like I said: you’ll know the signal when you hear it.” He instructed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck! You know I’m rooting for you—Oh! Real quick, uh…” He pulled his hand back with an apologetic wince after grabbing Miles’ arm. “Since this is just a trial thing, we usually don’t use challengers’ real names. Privacy; just in case. You, uh, got a name in mind?”

“Geez, put me on the spot, why don’t you?” Miles wrung his hands a bit, looking away as he itched the side of his head. “I…I kinda like New Fish…” He admitted a bit hesitantly.

Ganke snorted, almost giggling. “Seriously?”

“Shut up…”

“Hey, I’m not judging~ Much.” He taunted, shoving Miles playfully before starting to pull the door closed. “What’s your safeword?”

“Blackout.” Miles spoke with an audible pout as Ganke still smirked at him.

“This is going to be great.” He snickered, motioning to Miles with one hand. “No shoes in the ring, man. See you out there.”

Miles rolled his eyes, pulling his sneakers off as he sat on a bench to wait for this supposedly obvious signal.

-------------

There was always something about the ring. Okay, look, it’s not actually a real fighting ring or anything, but just—Here, try to imagine:

There’s the timbre of the crowd: the rhythm of applause and little echoes of folks calling out their favorite cheers. When Ganke jogged into the room and the cheers redoubled, he couldn’t stop himself from basking with a grin before continuing his rush to the “Commentators’ Booth”. Frankly, they owed the theater club a lot for being such good sports; it almost felt like it was grander than eighteen chairs situated around a large square arrangement of blue gym mats.

“Little late, aren’t we, Mr. Lee~?” The young lady in the chair beside him taunted as Ganke slid into the booth. “I almost wanted to start without you.”

“Very funny, Margo.” He chuckled, leaning under their table to fiddle with the volume knob on the boombox their microphones were plugged into. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world; not with this turnout either!”

The audience cheered in response. They knew their roles well for not being around in a while.

“Ooh, I do love a good crowd.” Margo readjusted the cat ears clipped into her braids. “More importantly, though, we finally have a challenger again. Feels like it’s been forever.”

“Hasn’t it been, though?” Ganke sighed dramatically, resting the back of his hand on his forehead. “Reminds me of our time in the ring; those were the days.”

“Ganke, that was only, like, four months ago.”

He leaned back in his chair, draping his whole arm across his face as he pulled his microphone closer with the other hand. “An eternity in my heart, Margie.”

Margo rolled her eyes and snuck a poke at his exposed side. “Anyway, I hear this one’s a friend of yours. Any details you can sneak us?”

Ganke snickered and bat her hand away. “Nah, you’re not getting anything out of me that easily. Just know I’m betting on him. Honestly, I can’t believe he didn’t join sooner.”

“Only thing I can’t believe is that he actually let himself be called New Fish.” Margo murmured intentionally into the microphone, earning chuckles from the crowd. She blinked as her watch buzzed against her wrist. “Ooh, the gang is getting restless. Make noise; make noise!” She hit the table with open palms, signaling the audience to clap and stomp while she stood from her chair. “Yeah, get hype! And let’s welcome our newest challenger!”

Right on cue, the “challengers’” locker room door opened, and the audience cheered as Miles walked out into the small gym. He seemed just a bit nervous, but he smiled as he walked, fidgeting with his hands while he approached the mat.

“Ooh, you didn’t tell me he was cute!” Margo giggled as she sat back down. “Looks a bit familiar though, doesn’t he~?” She’d placed her hand slightly over the microphone, sneering at Ganke as she elbowed his side.

“You shut up.” He shot back, looking away as he blushed. “Absolutely irrelevant. Although, actually, I don’t really know why he never came until now.”

“Did you tell him what we’re all about?” She glanced between him and their guest waving shyly at some audience members.

Ganke leaned back in the chair, unable to keep the mischief out of his grin. “Oh…I told him enough.”

She laughed softly, giving him a little kick under the table. “Terrible.”

He smirked, letting his chair’s legs thump on the floor as he hopped to his feet. “Alright, Fish!” He called, motioning Miles over to the so-called ring. “Let’s get you in the tank, because we’re bringing out your first opponent!”

------------------

The second locker room door was pushed open, and the small crowd cheered excitedly. Miles watched warily as one of the robed figures they’d passed in the hallway casually walked out. Halfway to the mat, they finally lifted their hood off, revealing a young man just about Miles’ height with light brown skin, the brightest, most joyful eyes, and some amazing shiny hair that he started to tie under a gold headband after handing his robe over to Ganke.

He was dressed almost identically to Miles in terms of shirt and shorts style—which he was quick to point out as he stepped onto the mat—but he had several different spider shapes tattooed—or maybe just drawn—up and down his arms in glittery gold ink.

“If I had known we were going to dress the same, I’d have asked Claw to give you a color to match, machhalee.” He spoke with an Indian accent, and he took a few steps slowly to hint Miles to do the same. His eyes seemed to light up as Miles matched his circular movement, but he schooled his expression and casually set his hands behind his back. “Sooo, New Fish, since you’re new, Fish, we’ll be using our names too. They call me Sona here. Well, they call me a lot of things, but Sona’s the one I picked out.”

Miles chuckled softly, resting his hands in his pockets as they circled each other. “Sounds nice. Kinda like it means something when you say it like that.”

“Oh, it does.” Sona grinned playfully. “If you survive, I’ll tell you what it means.”

“Survive?” Miles brought a hand on his chest, letting his face act shocked. “Oh, it’s a death match, eh? I see you.”

Sona paused, giggling as he started to walk again. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Miles shrugged with a grin. “Well, I’ve known…Claw?” He glanced over at Ganke, who nodded smugly. “I’ve known him a while. ‘No Spoilers’ is one of his Nerd Laws.”

“Hey!” Ganke called as the audience chuckled. “Pretty sure I didn’t drag you out here to insult me!”

Sona snickered. “Ah, I don’t really know how I feel about them hiding stuff from challengers, buuut, I admit I like a little surprise. So, I guess I’ll give you a hint.” He stopped, and Miles grew wary as he closed a bit of distance with slow steps. “…Tickle fight!” He laughed as he lunged.

Miles flinched, nervous excitement shooting through him at the call before he really processed what had just been said. He planted his feet firmly, catching Sona’s hands in his own and holding him back. “W-Wait; what?!” He asked in disbelief.

“Ooh, subtlety be damned; let’s go!” Ganke called as the audience cheered them on.

“Shine bright, Golden Boy!” The girl beside him—Margo, he was pretty sure—laughed, picking up her microphone.

“You’ve got some reflexes on you, huh?” Sona teased, curling his fingers where they were caught between Miles’.

“Were you actually serious?” He felt like he’d been blindsided, and, well, he had been. “It’s a tickle fight?!”

“Well~ We try not to be too serious around here.” Sona giggled. “But I wasn’t kidding.” He leaned suddenly to one side, and Miles stumbled as he yanked his hands back and shoved them against Miles’ sides. Sona followed him as he fell to the mat, kneeling beside Miles and scribbling across his stomach.

“Little early in the game to be floundering, isn’t it, Fish?” Sona teased, grabbing at Miles’ wrist as he giggled loudly. The audience groaned around sparse snickers, and Sona nearly giggled too.

Miles let out a harder laugh of his own, trying to pull his hand back. “Oho, he’s got jokes, huh? I—Hey!” He squeaked and twisted as Sona’s hand moved to squeeze up and down his flank.

“You what?” Sona smirked a bit as Miles’ free hand caught his wrist, letting his fingers scratch insistently at his hipbone as he squirmed. “You’re ticklish? You still seem a little shellshocked.” Sona walked his hand up Miles’ side, clawing quickly into his ribcage.

Miles tried to glare up at his opponent, but he couldn't fight the grin on his face. Sona was goofy and gentle; he didn’t seem to weigh much—Miles tested with weak pulls on his wrist. Oh, this was definitely going to be fun. In a quick, fluid motion, he let go of Sona’s hand and grabbed ahold of his shirt, pushing off the mat with one foot as he pulled Sona down. The audience cheered excitedly when Miles managed to roll them over, and he boxed his knees firmly against Sona’s shins.

Sona’s eyes were lit up with panic, and his cheeks ran a bit red as he laughed nervously. “Hi…” He giggled, holding his hands close to his chest.

Miles smirked, resting his hands on Sona’s wrists. “Hey.” He pulled the other man up suddenly, wrapping him in a hug and squeezing tight to pin his arms against his ribs.

“Oh, my God.” Ganke snorted, holding the mic away from his face for a moment. “I know this one.”

His cohost sat up straighter, leaning to nudge him with her shoulder. “Yeah? You want to clue us in?”

He started to say something when Sona let out a loud squeak and writhed.

“Aw, seriously?” Miles chuckled just a bit overdramatically, drawing one finger slowly back down Sona’s spine. “You totally seem like the type to have Angel Wings. Hm, maybe…” He shifted both of his hands, scribbling his nails across his shoulder blades and grinning as Sona giggled brightly and seemed to try more not to move.

“Ohh, I see now~” Miles teased right in Sona’s ear, smiling brighter at the way his giggles escalated. “That’s almost a shame.”

“N-No talking!” He whined halfheartedly, just barely managing to twist his hands enough to scribble at Miles’ waist. This quickly backfired when Miles’ flinch made him squeeze Sona closer.

“But if I don’t talk…” Miles nearly bit his tongue as he stifled a squeak. “How am I going to count these ribs of yours?” He pressed circles against the highest bone on his ribcage, sneaking his hand to that spot right under his armpit.

Sona let out a loud laugh, wrenching his arms out of Miles’ hold—almost as if he wasn’t holding him at all, actually—and shoving against Miles’ shoulders. The effort wound up pushing Sona’s back against the mat, and Miles was happy to reward him with all ten fingers digging into his ribs without a hint of mercy. This time, he didn’t even bother to grab at Miles’ hands, his arms wrapping loosely around himself as he laughed loudly.

Miles chuckled and shook his head, kneading along his lowest ribs and smirking when he squealed. “Shine bright, Golden Boy~!” He taunted, grinning brightly at the incredulous noise he heard Margo make behind him.

Sona blushed and put one arm over his face, the other flailing light slaps on Miles’ shoulder.

“That’s a tap!” Ganke called excitedly, standing up as the crowd applauded. “Sona is out!”

Miles blinked, letting his fingers go still as he glanced around the room. They were cheering for him—for both of them, really. Sona smiled up at him as he giggled and caught his breath.

“Don’t clap too hard now,” Margo snarked a bit teasingly while Miles was pulling his opponent to his feet. “Literally everyone beats Sona.”

Ganke scoffed, clearly in disbelief. “Oh, yeah?! Where was that energy when he had you on the mat last week?”

They took their time with their playful argument, and Miles took the opportunity to shake Sona’s hand, which he returned excitedly.

“You were amazing.” He said in a near whisper, his eyes bright as giggles still lined his voice.

“Yeah?” Miles said coolly, leaning a bit closer to him. “Well, next time, I want a real fight.”

Sona visibly prickled, his face running a bit redder before he just…smirked. His eyes had gone from playful to almost devious. “Oh, I don’t know if you’re ready for all that, Fish.”

It gave Miles a bit of pause. He might have just been hooked. Sona grinned again, bright as the sun, and caught Miles in a hug before taking his walk of shame. He grabbed his robe off of Ganke’s chair as he passed it and slung it across his shoulders, speeding up to a jog as he went back through the locker room door he’d originally come from. Miles stood just a bit awkwardly alone on the mat, a slight smirk pulling his lips as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Someone looks proud of himself~” Miles shot a slight glare at Margo, and she sneered back tauntingly. “Hey, keep that attitude, tough guy. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together; because we’re giving up the Ghost!”

The audience was suddenly loud and talkative; Miles could hear playful teases and jabs—particularly some coos about Ghost being adorable—under the clapping as the door opened again. Sure enough, it was the second character he remembered passing in the hallway. Pale-skinned hands came up to pull the hood back and…Miles was definitely not going to survive today unscathed.

“Ghost” was a blonde with bright blue eyes and one side of her head shaved down, and when she grinned over at Miles, he caught the piercing on her eyebrow. He gave an internal pout as he remembered his studs were with his jacket. She seemed to whisper something to Margo before letting the robe drop from her shoulders and handing it off. She was wearing a cropped t-shirt, cut just above her stomach, a loose long-sleeved jacket that stopped under her chest, and, frankly, Miles was pretty sure those were just pajama pants. Something that quickly caught his eye was the spider drawn on one side of her stomach in blue and pink. He couldn’t help but grin as she stepped onto the mat, stepping back slightly as she took a mark and rested her hands in her pants pockets.

“Eyes are up here, thanks.” She teased with a little wave; he could tell she couldn’t resist.

Miles almost laughed too, resting his hand slightly over his mouth as he tore his gaze from her little tattoo. “I’ll have you know I’m actually terrible at eye contact.”

She snickered, shaking her head as they started to circle each other, and Miles already knew he had to hear her laugh.

“Ooh, she’s hooked him.” Miles had a feeling he and Margo would get along.

“That quick? No way.” Ganke snickered.

“That’s Ghost; she’s a cutie!” Margo laughed. “It’s why everyone loves her.”

Miles pouted as he felt his face heat up, and Ghost chuckled, twirling casually as they continued to walk.

“Don’t worry, Li’l Fish,” She called playfully. “You learn to ignore the peanut gallery.”

“Excuse the hell outta you?” Ganke said firmly, causing Ghost to freeze, and Margo and the audience “Ooh~”-ed teasingly.

Ghost cringed and blushed, covering her face with both hands as she giggled.

Miles had kept walking, and he let his shoulder nudge against hers as he spoke. “So…how’s that ignoring thing workin’ out for you?”

She gave him a playful shove as the audience snickered, putting the distance between them again and smirking. “You hush.”

Miles smirked back, resting his hands on his hips. “So, why Ghost? You don’t seem so scary.”

“You think that now, sure.” She fished under her sleeve and pulled a hair tie off of her wrist, pulling her hair up into a ponytail before putting one hand back in her pocket. “But I’m told I can be haunting.” She wiggled her fingers teasingly, showing off brightly painted nails, and Miles chuckled.

“Okay, okay; you’re cute. Is that what you want to hear?”

She nearly froze up again, hints of red filling her cheeks as she smiled shyly. “Am not.”

“You so are, though. And besides, between the two of us, I’m not the one with their weak spot all exposed.”

She eyed him warily, giggles lining her voice. “You’re asking for it, huh?”

“Why don’t you come over and give it to me, then?” Miles was glad his back was to the crowd by now, but he found himself smirking as they shouted playfully. Margo and Ganke watched him with shocked smiles, and she pawed at his shoulder.

“Where were you hiding this guy?! Definitely my new favorite.” She laughed.

Ghost, similarly, had laughed in disbelief, and Miles almost sneered as he shrugged.

 “Hey, if she giggles herself half to death before I even get my hands on her, do I still win?” He snickered as Ghost looked absolutely offended.

“I’m gonna say yes!” Ganke said quickly, grinning as Ghost glared at him.

“You guys can’t just change the rules!”

Ganke looked to Margo. “I think we can.”

Margo nodded with a shrug. “I think we should.”

He smirked back at Ghost. “Just for you. Since we love you so much.”

As they spoke, Miles had inched forward, lifting one hand to aim a poke at her very exposed stomach.

And she sidestepped him easily, her hand clutching tightly on his wrist. She grinned toothily as he looked up at her, and she yanked him off balance as she swept his legs with one foot. Well, this felt familiar. He managed to keep his chin from hitting the mat, and he felt Ghost’s hand press on his back as she leaned over him. He glanced up at her, but as he made eye contact, she smirked and pushed herself away.

He felt her weight settle on his thighs, and before he could try to twist, he burst into loud laughter as her nails snuck under his shirt to scribble against his lower back. He pulled his hands in close to his chest to keep himself from flailing before reaching to grab at one of her wrists. She seemed perfectly fine to let him, and her other hand was quick to zip up his spine and pinch gingerly at the back of his neck. Miles would definitely deny the shriek he let out, but he laughed and tried to push himself over. Ghost chuckled, twisting her wrist to get ahold of his while she stood up again. She pulled him quickly onto his back, straddling his waist this time as she slipped her wrist suddenly out of his hand by pulling it back through her sleeve. She snatched his wrist with her free hand when he tried for her stomach again, and she grinned nervously as he sneered up at her.

“I’m so gonna get you~” He taunted, laughing lightly as her face went red again.

There was a hint of a stalemate, with Miles trying to read her eyes while she watched his face. All of a sudden, her sleeve was yanked out of his grip, and her hand was shooting to scribble her nails against his neck. Instantly, he cracked, laughing loudly and flailing to grab ahold of her wrists. Even when she let go of his wrist to get both hands against his neck, he couldn’t help but focus on trying to block her, and, dammit, she was much stronger than she looked.

He could hear the audience going wild as he tried to struggle, and Ghost giggled softly as she leaned closer to him. “What happened to all that big talk, Li’l Fish~?” She whispered into his ear. “Not so tough now, are we?” She took a breath before blowing gently into his ear, and Miles kicked against the mat as he practically shrieked again. The audience got a bit louder as Ghost looked expectantly at the judges.

“Aw, he kicks; that’s so cute!” Margo laughed, only for a bit of panic to shoot through her expression when Ghost turned to them. “Wait, does kicking count?! We didn’t talk about that.”

Ganke had bit his lip, glancing between the two women and the audience, and he realized he wasn’t containing his smirk very well. “I’m gonna say kicking doesn’t count today!”

“Wha—Since when?!” Ghost’s voice was pretty close to real outrage as her hands suddenly stopped, and a select few audience members backed her up with jeers.

“Since I said so!” He said more firmly, chuckling. “Consider it a perk of being in the peanut gallery.”

The audience laughed, and Ghost rolled her eyes before looking back down at Miles. As she did, he’d moved his hands, managing to land them on her waist and pressing his thumbs into her hips. She squeaked and shoved herself back, stumbling slightly as she scrambled out of his reach.

“Now she wants to run, huh?” Miles snorted, his hand catching around her ankle only for her to slip his hold before he had a full grip. She was quick to return the gesture, yanking his ankles before he could try to get up and kneeling on one of them. He struggled to push himself up onto his hands, only to nearly fall again when she dug all ten fingers into his socked sole. Keeping his hands still now was definitely nearing impossible, but he tried to also keep in mind to not kick her off of him. But, wow, she was merciless.

“So, toes are bad, huh?” She teased over his laughter, scratching under his toes as they curled tightly. “Not your weak spot, but you might get along with—Eek!”

Miles couldn’t tell if she actually didn’t expect it or she just got cocky, but she didn’t duck away this time. He’d pushed himself forward, snatching the back of her hoodie and pulling her into his arms before falling backwards. The audience was loud again as she tried to flail out of his grip, her voice already tangling itself in giggly protests as he fought to wrestle both of her arms against her sides without losing his grip on her.

“Quit that!” He giggled along with her when she kept trying to shove his face. “And what are you laughing about? I haven’t done anything yet!”

“Shut up!” She squeaked, laughing softly as she tried to catch her breath.

“You tired now, li’l fish? Flopping all over the damn place like that.” Miles taunted into her ear, smirking as she cringed and giggled. He spoke a bit louder as he heaved them both upright while keeping her square in his lap. “I’ve figured you out, by the way, they call you Ghost ‘cause you’re slippery, right? You ‘phase through’ grabs like that a lot?”

Ghost turned her head, not that she could really look at him from this angle, but he saw her grin as she shrugged casually. “Well, y’know, it’s what stuck.”

Miles scoffed, squeezing her a bit tighter. “Stuck like you, huh? I’d love to see you slip this one.” Without any more hesitation, he let one of his hands drop to her stomach and skitter across her bare skin, and he was definitely not disappointed. She squealed and immediately started to struggle again, giggles jumping to loud laughter within a fraction of a second.

“No, no; I wasn’t ready!” She whined through her squeals.

“Oh, she’s not ready…” Miles huffed with a roll of his eyes, letting his fingers go still as he dragged his hand slowly.

“You bastard…” She spat in a giggly half-whisper.

“Ghost, be nice!” Margo called down to them.

Miles teasingly blew into her ear again, dragging his nails softly before sneaking a few squeezes on her side. “Tell me when you’re ready for tummy tickles, okay?”

She blushed, shaking her head as she whined and squeaked at each little pinch. “You’re terrible! N-No…”

“Mm-hm?” He curled his fingers and tapped them against her stomach before tracing one slowly around her bellybutton. “If I press this button, will you be ready then?”

She’d had a full-body flinch at the tracing alone, kicking against the floor as she giggled loudly. “Don’t you dare!”

“Aw, c’mon~ You have to work with me here.” Miles poked her a few more times. “You ready now~?”

“Stop teasing!” Her head tipped back on his shoulder, and she yelped when he blew across the side of her neck.

He laughed, smirking softly. “You said you weren’t ready! I do have to tell you, though…” He let his fingers walk to about where he remembered that little drawing on her skin. “You’ve had this spider on you this entire time and it hasn’t moved at—” He suddenly started scribbling his fingers, absolutely relishing in the surprised shriek it got out of her. She kicked hard, knocking them both over, but he didn’t dare let her go. She barely got a chance to protest between her squealy laughs, and Miles could hear her feet flailing against the mat under the cheers of the crowd.

“Think she’s happy we let them keep the kicks now?” Ganke asked playfully, leaning on one hand.

“Yeah, she looks like she’s having fun.” Margo snickered. Both of them flinched a little when Ghost squealed again.

“Hey, do you think he can get one?” Ganke asked with a smirk.

Margo let out a cackle. “If he gets her that bad in his initiation, she will hate him.”

Miles, meanwhile, was starting to have a little bit of pity on the poor Ghost. She seemed to have tired herself out again, having stopped kicking in favor of trying futilely to curl up. She was tough; he could admit that in a heartbeat, but, frankly, his arm was getting tired.

“I’m still wondering what this does, you know.” He mused, and the only bit of mercy he offered her was slowing his fingers down just a little as he finally focused his tickling on her bellybutton.

She absolutely lost it, breaking into loud cackles as she struggled to move her arms. “N-Not there! Please, I-I can’t—!” She squealed, snorts breaking through her laughter as her cheeks ran red. The crowd went wild with cheers and teases, and Miles was pretty sure his heart was melting.

“Tap! I tap! Let go…” She cried out through squeaks, and Miles lifted his hand away and let her go. She curled up beside him, pulling her hood up to hide her face as a few more snorts slipped into her giggles.

“Ghost is out! Make some noise!” Ganke shouted, grinning as they already clapped excitedly. Miles smirked back at him, softly rubbing one hand on Ghost’s back while she caught her breath.

“You good?” He asked quietly, trying not to tease too much. “Need a hand?”

“You’re a natural.” She whispered back, smiling a bit tiredly as she looked up at him. “But you’re not ready for Spider-Punk.”

“Wha—?” He was about to ask, but she started to get up, and he stood quickly to help her.

“And anyway,” She spoke up this time, for the others to hear. “You wouldn’t have won if you weren’t pals with the judges.”

“No, honey,” Margo called back. “You might not have lost if you didn’t run your mouth off.”

Ghost pouted, crossing her arms as she levelled a glare. “Fuck you both.” She huffed, rolling her eyes and smirking.

“Ooh, Swear Jar. Five seconds.” Ganke said quickly. Without being told, Miles grabbed at her sides. He made sure to be gentle this time, barely scribbling with his nails, but she still burst into giggly squeals as she tried to push away from him. It was definitely more like three seconds, but Miles didn’t mind giving her some grace, except for the poke he landed on her bellybutton before pulling his hands back. She didn’t snort this time, but she did punch him in the arm while she grinned at him, and he could settle for that.

“Make nice, you two, let’s get moving.” Margo insisted. Miles offered his hand to Ghost, smirking broadly when she actually hesitated to take it. He might have itched the palm of her hand with one finger when he went to shake it, and she snickered and shook her head.

“You might want to think about whether you want to stick around, because I’m getting you back.” She said softly, grinning.

“Yeah, alright, Tickle Button.” He taunted playfully, laughing as she punched his shoulder again. She squeezed his hand as she turned to do the walk, snatching her robe off of Margo’s chair and flicking the side of Ganke’s glasses.

“I’ll see you in the ring next week, asshole.” She growled with a sneer, and Ganke smirked back at her.

“That’s ten seconds, Ghost.” He chuckled, covering the microphone. “I’ll see you too.”

Her face nearly faltered, but she ruffled his hair, and the audience cheered as she walked back to the locker room.

Margo stretched her arms over her head—Ganke smirked knowingly toward Miles and the audience, but he didn’t do anything—and she shook her hands out with a sigh. “My, oh my, Mr. Lee. Our first challenger in months, and he’s tearing through us. Maybe we should have gotten back in the ring instead of letting these cute little bugs handle it.”

There were claps and murmurs from the crowd, and Miles couldn’t help but be curious about that story.

“At this rate, I think you might be right, Kitty.” Ganke sighed dramatically. “But, then again, if we destroyed him first try, we wouldn’t have anything for this great crowd!” The audience cheered, and Miles couldn’t help but clap along. “And you all really have been wonderful tonight; thank you all so much for coming out—”

“You do know we’re not done, right?” Margo asked playfully.

Ganke pulled a face and pretended to wince. “Are you sure we can’t be done now?” He groaned, resting an arm over his eyes. “You know how he gets.”

Margo smirked, thumping a rhythm on the table that the audience was quick to copy with their hands. “Ladies and Gentlemen—and, of course, our dear New Fish—I want you to give me your best!” The volume grew louder, and Miles felt tingly with the energy swelling. “It’s down to the wire; the last roundup; this one’s for all the marbles! Let’s hear it for Spider-Punk!”

The audience roared—as much as, like, twenty people could compare to a roar—and a good number of them stomped as they clapped. The locker room door opened, and, predictably, Miles saw the tall British man that had inspired his dumb stage name. He bounced a bit on his toes, smiling excitedly as he watched his approach.

Spider-Punk walked confidently, with his robe already thrown over his shoulder instead of being worn. He was also wearing a cropped shirt, funny enough, but it was underneath a battle vest covered in cool patches. He wore a pair of pajama pants too—much more obvious than Ghost’s just by the pattern—and they were cut off just below his knees. He was wearing black lipstick, which he definitely hadn’t been the first time Miles had passed him. He motioned to the crowd with one hand as he purposefully draped the robe over Margo’s head, encouraging them to get louder before he stepped onto the mat.

“Well, well, well…” He practically purred, and Miles felt like a shock ran through him. “Big fish in a small pond, aren’t ya?”

Miles’ eyes lit up, and his hands flapped a bit as his brain failed to process a response.

“You’re doing the thing.” His opponent half-whispered to him, gesturing to his hands, and Miles flinched just a bit nervously. Spider-Punk grinned, chuckling. “Not sayin’ you should stop, love. Ghost’ll get you wound up like that, she’s pretty fun.”

Miles let himself giggle at that and nodded. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty cool for a ghost.” He said coolly. “Shrieks like one, too.”

Spider-Punk snorted, shaking his head as he smirked. “Fair play, fair play.”

Miles crossed his arms as they started to circle each other. “So, turns out you actually were the final boss, huh? What was that about me not lasting a minute?”

“Oh, you remember that, eh?” He laughed just a bit mockingly, his eyes scanning over Miles before his grin somehow grew even more smug. “I still stand by it.” He asserted with a shrug, resting his hands on his hips.

Miles scoffed, mimicking his little pose and rolling his eyes. “You really want to say that when you know I just wrecked two of your friends?”

Spider-Punk suddenly broke from his path, walking straight toward Miles and spooking him into a half stumble. “Do you really want to ask that when you don't know why they saved me for last?” He reached out quickly to grab Miles by his shirt to stop him from falling, pulling him sharply into a tight hug. Miles flailed slightly, bringing his hands to rest on his opponent’s arms where they squeezed softly around his neck. His own arms were completely free, but his brain also might have been overheating. He could hear the sneer in Spider-Punk’s voice when it tickled his ear. “Your freckles pop up when you blush~”

Miles fell into squeaky giggles, pulling at Spider-Punk’s arms as best he could, and his opponent only hummed casually at the effort, rolling his eyes as he rested his chin on Miles’ head and scribbled gently at his shoulders. Miles quickly switched tactics, digging his fingers into the punk’s armpits. The taller man flinched pretty hard, half a snort slipping out as he let himself laugh. Or, actually, he kind of giggled. It was rough and bass-sounding, almost scratchy, like he was just barely resisting. The crowd behind him murmured softly.

“Oh, not this again.” Miles chuckled teasingly, keeping his voice mostly low this time. “You just want to get tickles, tough guy?” He squirmed just a bit when long fingers trailed down the center of his back.

“Wouldn’t you like to kn—” Spider-Punk’s voice hitched on a louder laugh when Miles dropped his hands to scribble on bare skin and squeeze his sides, and he flinched backwards when Miles pressed his thumbs against his hipbones. Miles grinned a bit smugly as the punk stepped back, and he crossed his arms as he stepped forward.

“I wouldn’t have thought someone so cool would be so cute when he gets a few little scratches.” He taunted before faking a pout. “I expected more fight out of you though, punk.”

Spider-Punk chuckled lightly, making a bit of a show in slightly covering his sides. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” He teased right back, setting his chin on one hand and batting his eyes. His nail polish matched his lipstick perfectly. “You should watch yourself though~ Could be in bigger trouble than you think.”

 Miles laughed, cracking his knuckles. “Well, the bigger they are…”

“That doesn’t even work for—” Spider-Punk didn’t put up much resistance when Miles hooked his arm and more or less dragged him to the floor, and he laughed brightly Miles tickled across his stomach.

“Ooh, he’s got him on the ropes, huh~?” Margo asked playfully, nudging Ganke with her elbow.

Ganke shot her a sideways glance, pout set on his lips. “Shut up.” He huffed with a chuckle, and she laughed.

Miles’ focus was stuck on Spider-Punk, his grin turning more playful as he let his fingers skitter lightly on his opponent’s back and relished the giggles it brought out of him. He had pulled Spider-Punk’s arm across his shoulders, clutching his wrist in his left hand while he tickled along his back and opposite side.

“Y’know, ‘Spider-Punk’…” Miles mused softly. “If Claw had told me that I’d just be thrown into a fake tournament to tease a bunch of adorable lees to death, I probably wouldn’t have even believed him. I’d say I’m disappointed, but it’s been pretty fun.”

The punk huffed out a laugh, sounding much more derisive than ticklish all of a sudden. “Is that what you think?”

Without any warning, Spider-Punk shifted the hand in Miles’ grip, his fingers managing to scratch along his ribcage and chip some startled giggles out of him. His other hand shot to dig into Miles’ side, completely exposed with how his arm was wrapped around the punk’s back. Miles yelped, immediately letting go of the wrist he held to flee; his opponent snickered, keeping his arm hooked across Miles’ shoulders and holding him close as he pulled some squeaky laughs from his side.

“And there it is.” Ganke fake-pouted as the audience started to get riled up. “Every time with this one.”

Margo was absolutely ecstatic, giggling brightly as she leaned on his shoulder. “If it ain’t broke, y’know? Maybe you should have warned him~”

Miles laughed and tried to flail, but the tickles he landed on the punk’s ribs were hardly distracting him. Instead, Spider-Punk leaned back, pulling his arm from around Miles’ shoulder while his other hand shoved him down to the mat. He was strong. Like, way stronger than Miles expected. When Miles tried to grab at his arm and pull, he couldn’t move an inch, and he wasn’t even sure if Spider-Punk was using his full weight. The giddy sort of panic must have shown in his eyes, because the taller man sneered as he loomed over him.

“Caught in a web, poor thing.” He taunted as he locked his knees around Miles’ legs, ruffling his hair with his free hand before leaning close. “You got a lot to learn, New Fish. For example…” He took a deep breath, and Miles didn’t even get time to panic before he was squealing with laughter as a loud raspberry was blown into the crook of his neck. His legs tried to kick, but his opponent gave him zero leeway. It didn’t help at all when he tried to push him away, only to get scribbling fingers in both of his armpits as another raspberry hit him.

Miles might have broken a little under all that; sue him.

“Oh, yeah, he’s dead.” Margo snickered as their challenger shrieked and writhed under Spider-Punk’s hold.

“Yeah…” Ganke admitted, but he glanced at Margo with a smirk. “You would know though, wouldn’t you? You have a thing or two in common with him.” He snuck a poke just under her arm, and she nearly whacked him with her microphone with how hard she flinched.

Miles, meanwhile, was trying his best to be tough, his hands gripping Spider-Punk’s sleeves to keep from flailing. Those long fingers drilled right into the center of his hollows, and his head fell back against the mat as he cackled. Spider-Punk chuckled over him, finally pulling away from his neck to whisper in his ear again.

“So, who’s the adorable little lee here again, bruv~? You talk so big, but I break brats like you.”

Miles tried to shove the punk’s face, earning some faster scribbles whenever his arms moved an inch. Spider-Punk sneered and pulled one of his hands back, catching Miles’ wrist and blowing another raspberry against his palm. His reaction was much squeakier than attacks on his weak spots, but Miles more or less collapsed in a slight daze. The punk slowly lifted his hands, chuckling a bit deviously as the poor fish tried to catch his breath.

“I’ll give it to ya, mate; you’re a tough one.” Spider-Punk taunted, slipping his hand into his pocket. “Or you’re a hypocrite. Hopin’ it’s the former, since a funny thing happens to hypocrites around here~” He drew his hand back up, and it was covered by a strange-looking glove.

“Oh, Murder Claw!” Margo shouted, and the audience went wild.

“You actual cheating bastard!” Ganke scolded with a grin. “I told you not to bring that!”

“Murder Claw! Murder Claw!” Half of the audience chanted with Margo leading on her mic.

“Margo, don’t encourage this!”

She elbowed him teasingly before playfully punching his side. “Aw, c’mon, Tiger, where’s that Panther blood?!”

“We're supposed to be behaving!” Ganke couldn't help but laugh as the energy swelled.

Miles watched nervously as Spider-Punk wound a little dial on the wrist of the glove. Something about the sound of the mechanism clicking felt…familiar. Coiling springs? It all happened within a few seconds; Miles tried to grab Spider-Punk’s sleeve, only for him to snatch his wrist and pin it firmly over his head. The pure mischief on his face was going to kill Miles before his hands did.

“Go on and give ‘em a show, lovely.” He whispered, showing off the glove on his hand before pressing one of the fingers to the side of Miles’ neck. He felt a sort of click, instantly followed by rapid vibrations that had him nearly screeching. It was barely more than two seconds, but it was almost worse than the raspberries. When the four other fingers pressed into his armpit all at the same time, Miles knew it was over. Quick as it was, that buzzing sensation had him hysterical, and his free hand flailed against the mat as he tried to writhe.

“The Fish is cooked! It’s all over!” Margo shouted over the roar of the crowd.

Spider-Punk gave him another smirk and a cheeky-bastard wink before pushing himself onto his feet, except Miles caught him gently by his wrist.

“That…was definitely more than a minute.” Miles said softly through quiet breaths.

Spider-Punk seemed to light up, barely stifling an incredulous laugh. “You don’t quit! I like it.” He said softly, taking Miles’ hand in a quick handshake before letting it fall. He grinned smugly as Margo ran to his side and hugged him with one arm.

“Your reigning champion, folks!” She called out to the audience. “Give it up for Spider-Punk!” The tall man raised his hands dramatically as the crowd clapped excitedly, seeming to relish in the attention as they started to get up and talk to him and each other.

Miles was content to stay on the mat for a moment with his tired giggles, and Ganke approached to offer him a hand. He might have gotten a little dizzy when he was heaved to stand up, but he played it off with a smirk. Ganke ruffled his hair and snuck a tickle behind his ear, and Miles shouldered him playfully as he went to do his walk of shame. But Ganke grabbed him by his shirt, pointing him toward the locker room door that his opponents had been entering from. Miles glanced at him for confirmation, getting a quick nod and a shooing motion before Ganke went to stand beside Spider-Punk.

“What a freakin’ upset, huh?” Margo said teasingly, leaning to look at Ganke.

“Yeah, I’m upset!” He insisted exaggeratedly, shaking his head as Spider-Punk hugged him to his side. “Should have known you’d let him cheat again.”

Margo laughed right back. “Well, since you want to be boring all of a sudden, and the crew’s on leave, someone has to keep up the Panther vibe, yeah?!”

--------------

Miles let them and the crowd’s chatter fade behind him as he entered the locker room. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t even any different from the first one. Except, well, this one had a ghost leaning in from the door leading to the hallway. She quickly motioned him to follow her, holding the door open before jogging away.

They wound up at a meeting room upstairs, where Sona opened the door after they knocked.

“Told you so.” Ghost said playfully as they entered the room, and Miles rolled his eyes as Sona laughed. There were six pizza boxes on the tables in the back and a cooler stashed underneath next to what he assumed were their bags and things.

“He cheated, didn’t he?” Sona asked once the door was closed, playfully nudging Miles with his elbow.

“Is it really cheating when we know he’s going to do it though?” Ghost rummaged in the cooler for a juice pouch before also snatching a half-finished water bottle from the edge of the table.

“I feel kind of cheated.” Miles said with a shrug, crossing his arms.

The pair of them looked at him with wary expectation, seemingly worried about him.

“I mean, I had a whole fight with you—” He looked pointedly as Ghost. “—And I didn’t even know raspberries were legal. Seems unfair to me.”

He let a taunting grin spread across his lips as Ghost glared at him with a rising blush. Sona had burst out laughing, patting him on his shoulder.

“I really hope you stick around, Fish; you’re hilarious.” He giggled.

“Yeah, you’ll be laughing, all right.” Ghost pouted for a moment, but she started to laugh along with Sona.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Sona stood in front of him, resting his hands on his hips as if he was a superhero or something. “My name is Pavitr. Forgive me if it’s forward, but you’re Miles, right? It’s so cool to finally meet you!”

Miles was a little surprised, but he quickly realized what had happened. “I take it Ganke talks about me a lot?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, definitely.” Ghost nodded, smiling as she leaned slightly on the circular table in the middle of the room. “And somehow, he neglected to mention that you’re a five-alarm tease.”

“Well, time and place, y’know.” He shrugged, chuckling. “Although, I guess I haven’t teased him in a while~”

“You are something else.” Ghost said, playfully flinging the now empty water bottle at Miles’ head before offering a handshake. “I’m Gwen, by the way.”

Miles accepted it without any mischief this time, and she smiled much more genuinely this time. Pavitr approached him from the side, pressing a cold bottle of water against his arm and giggling as he snatched it from him.

“You can grab a plate, by the way.” He offered, opening his own water bottle to take a drink. “We kind of got them for you. Oh, except those two big ones on the end.”

“Oh, yeah?” Miles chuckled, as if he hadn’t been eying the table since he’d walked in. Of course, he had to have been raised to never take the first plate.

Gwen nodded, pushing herself up to sit on the table. “We haven’t had a tournament in a long time, and it’s been even longer since we had a new challenger. We’re celebrating a little, and since somebody didn’t win, it’s more a little party for all of us.”

“You really do snark a lot for someone in a crop top.” Miles grinned and shook his head.

“Maybe, but at least I’m not the one with spider bites on my neck.” She taunted, and Miles could feel his face heating up as he realized what she meant. She laughed teasingly as he covered the side of his neck with one hand.

The door opened suddenly, and a very loud Spider-Punk burst in with Ganke, Margo, and a couple of faces from the audience in tow. “Oi, oi, what’s up, losers?!”

Gwen sighed loudly. “There goes the neighborhood.” She rolled her eyes and smirked as he approached her first.

“Love you too, Gwendy~” He said playfully, ruffling her hair as he leaned to kiss her forehead. His smile widened as he spotted Miles, and he strode up to him like he could definitely tell Miles’ head was spinning. “You stuck around, huh?” He offered his hand and that stupid wink. “Hobie Brown, at ya service, love.”

Accepting the handshake was apparently the wrong decision, because it ended in Miles being yanked into a tight hug as Hobie laughed a bit mockingly. He wasn’t even doing anything, but Miles couldn’t help laughing with him and trying to squirm away, only for Pavitr and Gwen to pile on the two of them.

Ganke had placed Miles’ shoes and things under the table with the others’ stuff, and Margo had done the same with their boombox and microphones. She grabbed the two set-aside pizza boxes, handing them over to the theater club members along with heaps of gratitude for their presence. They happily accepted both before waving to all of them as they left. As soon as they did, the pair of former hosts turned to the interesting little hug-fight their four friends had gotten into.

“Guys!” Margo called, managing to get their attention. “You were all fantastic out there! Miles, they loved you! Hell, we loved you!” She stepped forward, and Hobie let Miles go so she could grab onto his hands excitedly as she spoke. “I wasn’t even kidding, Ganke, where on Earth were you hiding this one?!”

Ganke shrugged, crossing his arms. “What can I say? I like to have an ace or two up my sleeve.” He said with a smirk. “It has been a while since I’ve seen you go all out like that though, hasn’t it?”

Miles grinned a bit proudly. “You know I like to make a good first impression.”

“I have literally never heard that about you, but go off, I guess.”

Miles pouted a bit as the others laughed.

Within minutes, they were all around the circular table, plates piled with pizza slices and cracking soda cans. Miles leaned on his hand to look Ganke in the eye.

“So, how long has this been going on anyway?” He asked, just a bit incredulously. “You never mentioned it while I was gone.”

Ganke nearly glared at him halfway through a bite of pizza. “I told you I made some new friends after you left! And I definitely remember telling you I joined a club.”

“Yeah, and I thought you meant a robotics club or something, not, like, tickle tournaments! You didn’t think I’d be interested in that part?”

Ganke chuckled. “It’s not that I didn’t think you'd be interested.” He set down the slice and leveled a sneer at him. “I just know you get weak around too many cute people.”

Miles nearly choked on the sip of water he’d taken, and he could feel eyes on him as the table got quiet. They were all smiling, some more smugly than others, and Miles buried his face in his hands.

“Asshole…” He groaned, only to flinch a little when Gwen poked his cheek. He glanced at her, and she giggled, and Hobie smirked, and Pavitr grinned.

“Especially cute lees~” Ganke whispered, blowing across the side of his neck, and he barely stopped himself from jumping out of the chair. The others stifled laughter as Miles felt like he was going to melt from the heat rushing to his face, which he promptly dropped into his arms on the table.

“You’re all rosy, mate.” Yeah, like Hobie really needed to tell him that.

He recognized Ganke’s hand patting him on the back. “Sooo~?”

“’M free on Friday…?” He offered.

“We’ve got an Initiation Day!” Ganke shook him by the shoulder as the whole table cheered, and Miles felt himself smiling as hands ruffled his hair and pat his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Panda's Extra Notes: Some minor things for consideration.

*I might go back and retcon it, but I'm considering using one of Hobie's beta designs for this AU. Specifically the one with his long braids.

*Miles falls under the Ace umbrella here, hence the joke Ganke makes toward the end. He is very vulnerable to "tickle-crushes", though. And actual crushes, obviously, but we'll get to that later. >w<

#tickling #a panda writes a thing #hobie brown #atsv tickle #miles morales #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #ganke lee #margo kess #atsv tickling #spiderverse tickle

[roanniom]

BOARDING SCHOOL!STEVE!!!! your mind!!!

what do you headcannon as the dynamic between steve and the reader would be? i feel like there's definitely potential for enemies to lovers here...

Boarding School!Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Boarding School!Steve AU

Oh definitely enemies to lovers.

The first day he meets you, he stumbles into your study room in the library. You’re studying feverishly and his intrusion is entirely unwelcome.

“This room has been reserved,” you say curtly from over your book. Steve has been peering through the little window in the door, but he looks over the shoulder at you when you speak.

“Good, so they probably won’t think to check in here?” he asks.

“That depends. Who are you running from?”

“The welcome committee. If I hear about one more school club I’ll lose it,” he says with a lopsided grin, dropping himself into a chair beside you. You frown at how he’s made himself comfortable.

“That’d be Miles. He’s planning on going to a state school,” you say distastefully, returning your attention to your book and flipping the page. “You’re safe. That boy hasn’t seen the inside of a study room since freshman orientation. I don’t think he remembers they exist.”

Steve snorts and leans back in his chair, surveying you filling for the first time. Taking in your excellent posture, your neat clothes, and the stacks of books and papers around you.

“Not a fan of state schools?”

“They’re fine,” you shrug, not looking up at him. “If you don’t plan on succeeding in life.”

“Wow,” Steve let’s out a laugh, flexing his hands open and closed. You notice them in your peripheral vision and try to pretend you didn’t. “You’re a little intense, aren’t ya?”

“The word I like is motivated,” you counter. You place the book down on the table and fix him with a stare. “I’m assuming you’re not…”

“Steve,” Steve offers, reaching a hand out to shake, a smile on his face in spite of your coldness. “Steve Harrington. Transfer senior. Unmotivated. Probably destined for a fate worse than state school.”

The corner of your mouth quirks and you work hard to suppress the smile he’s pulling from you. He’s charming, the bastard. You have no time for charming. You do shake his hand, however, and tell him your name.

“A fate worse than state school. That’s a defeatist attitude, Harrington. I’d rather…” you trail off, not sure if you should go that dark, but Steve finishes for you.

“You’d rather die? Harsh!” He takes the sentiment with good humor. “Ok so if my future isn’t worth living for, what’s the future you’re aiming for that’s got you cooped up in here all day?”

“The Ivy League,” you say without a second of hesitation. Steve’s eyebrows lift.

“Well excuse me. I’m in the presence of greatness,” he says with mock reverence. You roll your eyes as he stands up and gives you a slight bow. “I guess I should get out of your hair then and let you get back to more important things.”

You finally smile, both charmed against your will and relieved to see him put his hand on the door knob.

“Yeah, you probably should.”

“One last thing - can you point me in the direction of the basketball court? That’s the only place on this campus that I’d give a shit about.” He shrugs to himself. “Though I’m sure it’s too late in the year to join the team at this point.”

You laugh in response. A jock.

Of course.

“Did you see the dining hall yet?”

“Yeah.”

“The gym is in the building directly to the right.” You look back to your book, but then something compels you to add, “The janitor leaves it unlocked on Tuesday nights, if you’re looking for some time on the court after hours.”

“How do you know that, book worm like you,” Steve asks incredulously, half way out the door. “You ball when you’re not in the library?”

You smirk up at him.

“No, I swim laps in the pool when nobody’s around.” It comes across as a challenge, both to his perception of you and to his teasing.

“Sneaking around after hours. What would the Dean say?” Steve waggles his eyebrows before stepping out into the greater library. He looks both ways to ensure the coast is clear and then looks back to you with a grin. “See you around, Ivy League.”

He disappears as the door swings shut, causing a draft that ruffles your loose papers. And as you try to settle back into studying, you can’t help but feel ruffled yourself.

#boarding school!steve #steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington fanfic #stranger things au

[anticomedygarden]

Keeping the Faith

title from billy joel's 'keeping the faith'

Marauders Raven Cycle AU

also posted on ao3

part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

-

Lily Evans was a psychic. Not the metaphorical kind that just had a knack for guessing. An honest to god, tarot card and palm reading, spirit talking, crystal ball using, touching and seeing, psychic. 

She was 17 years old in her senior year of high school, a waitress in her father’s pizzeria Holy Rollers, daughter of Rose and Liam Evans, sister of Petunia Evans soon to be Dursley, best friend of Remus Lupin, and she was a psychic. 

However, she didn’t need to be a psychic to know that the boy sitting in front of her was a dumbass. 

“Potter, what the hell is wrong with you?” she said, giggling. While at one point, her words may have held the sting of hatred, James’ antics were a welcome reprieve after the summer she had had, not to mention she had grown close to the boys following her and Severus’ falling out a year and a half ago. 

“Now, Evans, no one wants to open that can of worms,” James’ best friend and adopted brother Sirius offered from beside him. “We’ll be here for days!” 

“Pads, you know that’s not true,” Remus said. He had just finished taking the order of three teenage boys at the only other occupied table and was walking towards them, skillfully avoiding the pale blue tables and black chairs. “The only thing that’s really wrong with him is the dumbass himbo disease.” 

The sugar packets and empty salt shakers balanced on James’ head fell to the table with a clatter as the boy snorted violently and the table erupted in laughter. He put his face in his hands. 

“The worst part is, you’re right,” he whined, voice muffled. His shoulders shook with restrained laughter. On the opposite side of the table, Peter was unsubtly trying to clean up the Pepsi that had come out of his nose off the glossy wood. 

“He’s so right,” Sirius wheezed, holding his stomach. 

Remus poked him in the neck. “As if you’re any better,” he accused, mirth in his eyes, plus a little something else. Lily had been noticing that look in his eyes a lot lately around Sirius. 

The black haired boy looked up, offended, and opened his mouth as if to say something but was cut off by a shout from the other side of the restaurant. 

“hey, Scarface, are we ever getting our food, or are you just gonna stand their talking?” the green haired one yelled nastily. 

Sirius was already half out of the booth by the time Remus caught him. “It’s not worth it, Pads,” he said, pressing his friend back into the black booth. 

“But he’s a bastard!” Sirius responded hotly, fighting against Remus’ hold. 

“And what exactly are you planning to do? There’s three of them, and one of you,” Remus said matter-of-factly. 

Of course, that was when another guy, hair dyed red this time, at the table decided to speak up. “Hello! Are you deaf? My friend asked you a question!” 

This time, it was James that grabbed Sirius by the back of his shirt. “Leave it, Pads. No one cares about asshole customers.”

“Yeah, you know how many people like that we get in here everyday? You’d have to fight the whole town,” Lily added, earning herself a look of gratitude from Remus. 

He walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right there!” he called over his shoulder. 

Lily turned back to the boys. “For the record, there would’ve been two of us in that fight,” she told Sirius quietly. 

James held up a hand. “Three.”

They looked toward Peter who gave a long-suffering sigh. “Four,” he said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling. “But I wouldn't be much help.”

“Nah, Wormy, you’re so short, you could weave in and out like a rat,” James said. 

Peter sighed again. “You know, I really hate that nickname.”

James reached over to ruffle his short blond hair. “No, you love it,” he grinned. “Besides, you’re stuck with it forever.”

Behind the counter, Remus walked out of the kitchen, a serving tray balanced on his palm. 

“Finally,” the green haired one complained. 

Sirius didn’t hear whatever Remus said next, but if the reaction of the boys at the table was anything to go by, it wasn’t nice. 

All three stood suddenly with an indignant shout, and the green haired one, evidently their idiot leader, said, “Fuck you!” and stormed out. 

Remus laughed. “Who wants free food? Those idiots paid when they came in.” 

Peter and Sirius both jumped up and ran over to the table. “I call the personal pan!” Peter announced. 

Lily raised an eyebrow at James. “You don’t want any?” she asked curiously. James was usually the first in line for food of any kind. 

“Nah, I had enough earlier,” he answered, though Lily had a feeling there was something deeper going on despite the two whole pizzas and double cheeseburger he had put away when the boys first came in. Perhaps she would try and divine something out of it later. 

“Well-”

Abruptly, the door flew open, and all five of them jumped. There stood Abraxas Malfoy, white blond hair blowing in the breeze from the open door. One of Henrietta’s asshole upper class, he was a member of the Death Eaters gang and father of Lucius Malfoy, a spoiled brat and a school rival of theirs before he graduated. The Death Eaters had made it their personal mission to buy up as much property as possible in Henrietta, and Abraxas had been assigned to Holy Rollers. 

Malfoy looked down his sharp nose at Lily. “I would like to speak to your father, girl,” he said nastily. 

On the other side of the room, Remus rolled his eyes and mouthed big surprise . This wasn’t the first time Malfoy had stormed in looking for Mr. Evans. 

It also wasn’t the first time a Malfoy had looked at her with such superiority or disdain. No. She'd been getting those looks all summer. 

Lily leaned against the booth casually, picking at her nails. “Do you wanna try that again?” she asked dangerously. 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you know who I am, girl?”

“Sorry, I only answer to Lily Evans,” she said, bringing her eyes up to meet his steely gray ones, disturbingly close in color to Sirius’. Because of the boy’s whole demeanor, personality, and political views, it was easy to forget that he was related to this jerk. 

“Listen, girl-”

“Hey Abraxas!” Sirius said cheerfully. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a while!” He shoved an entire pizza crust in his mouth. “How’s the family?”

Malfoy looked away from Lily and dragged his gaze to Sirius. “Well, if it isn’t the disgraced heir. I see you’re doing,” he sneered, “well for yourself.”

Sirius grinned and stood. “I am!” he agreed. “Speaking of, how’s Lucius? Last I heard, he was kicked out of Stanford.”

Abraxas bristled. “There was…talk of expelling him following the-” he hesitated “-incident, but after some negotiations-”

“Bribes,” Sirius said helpfully. 

“ Negotiations ,” Abraxas snapped, “the board of directors decided to give him a second chance.” He flipped his long hair over his shoulder. 

“And the sudden remodel of the law building?” Sirius pressed. 

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. “That was-” he paused. “Why am I telling you this? It’s none of your business.” 

Behind Sirius, Remus stood to bring the pizza platter back to the kitchen. “That may be true, Malfoy, but we don’t allow loitering, and it’s past closing time, so get out.” 

“I’m not a patron, I need to speak with the owner,” Abraxas said gruffly. 

James smirked. “If you’re not a patron, you’re loitering.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t leave now, I’m reporting you for trespassing,” said Lily, phone in hand, ready to call the police. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I’ll be back.” He took one more glance at each of them, sneered, and walked out. 

Sirius caught the door. “Tell Walburga and Orion to go fuck themselves!” he called after him. 

Lily groaned. “I wish they’d just give up already.” She sat down heavily next to James. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon,” he said gently. 

She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down. “I know.” The Death Eaters had been buying up Henrietta for years, but they’d really doubled down this past summer. Rather than waste time arguing with him once a week, her dad had taken to hiding whenever he heard Malfoy coming, which really meant he spent the majority of Wednesday in the kitchen helping out rather than at the register. Whichever waiter or waitress was working the counter was tasked with monitoring the businessman. 

She wondered what had kept Malfoy from coming in at the normal time. 

Liam popped his head out of the kitchen. “Is he gone?”  

“Yep,” Remus confirmed. 

Liam nodded. “Great! We can go now.” He walked the rest out of the way out of the kitchen revealing a giant pizza sauce stain down his shirt and the top of his pants, and that’s just what Lily could see from this side of the wood counter. 

Lily huffed a laugh. “Uh, Dad-”

He raised a hand. “I know, I know. I had a bit of a spill.”

Remus snorted. “You’re leaving sauce tracks, Mr. Evans.”

“Am I?” he asked, glancing behind himself at the black and white tile floor. “So I am.”

“Mom’s not gonna let you in the house like that,” Lily giggled. 

He waved her off. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just take my shoes off before I go in.”

“Alright.” Lily stretched her arms across the table and stood, then she untied her apron to hang it behind the counter. 

Liam turned to the boys. “Does anyone want any leftovers? Peter? Remus?” All four shook their heads. “It’s just gonna go in the trash if no one claims it.” 

James shrugged. “Okay.” He nodded his head at Remus. “Come help me.”

Remus tilted his head in confusion but followed James into the kitchen. 

A couple minutes later, they reemerged, each carrying a take out box of food. 

“Did you turn the lights out?” Liam asked. 

“No, Mr. Evans, I thought I’d leave ‘em on, see if we could set a record for highest electricity bill,” Remus deadpanned. 

Liam sighed good-naturedly. “Thank you. And how many times do I have to tell you, call me Liam.” 

Everything now taken care of, Liam ushered the teenagers outside so he could lock up for the night. 

James, Sirius, and Peter walked across the white gravel parking lot over to James’ car, the only one left besides the Evans’ family minivan. “Moony, you want a ride?” James called as he unlocked the car. 

“Nah, I’ll walk,” Remus responded, the pale scars on his face standing out starkly against his tan skin. “Gotta start getting back in shape for basketball season.”

Sirius snorted in disbelief. “As if you could ever be out of shape. I could bounce quarters off that ass.” His smile faltered as everyone stared at him. “Too much?” Remus nodded, mouth gaping. “Sorry.”

Lily shook her head. “Anyway,” she turned to Remus, “when does practice start?”

Remus turned slowly, slightly dazed gaze still trained on Sirius. “Um,” he shook his head. “Practice starts next week, but Coach has had me helping out the younger kids since open gym started in August,” he answered finally. 

“Yeah!” Sirius called from the passenger seat of James’ bright orange 1973 Chevy Camaro, lovingly named the Pig. “That’s because you’re the best, Moons! Everybody else wishes they were you!”

James revved the engine. “Kay, we’re gonna head out before Padfoot says anything else weird and inappropriate,” he said from the driver’s seat. “See y’all.” 

“See you,” echoed Remus and Lily. They winced as the Pig kicked up a cloud of dust and tore away with a loud roar. 

Holy Rollers’ front door opened, and Liam came out. “Remus, do you need a ride?” he asked as he searched for the key to the minivan. 

Remus shook his head. “I’ll just walk.”

“Suit yourself.” He clicked the car open. “Let’s go, Carrot Top.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “My own father,” she muttered to Remus. 

He chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Carrot Top.”

She punched him in the arm. “See you tomorrow.” 

-

“Stop laughing at me,” Sirius groaned, head hidden in his hands. He made a sobbing noise when they continued to laugh. “Stop!” he whined again. He jostled a bit as the light turned green and the Pig accelerated. 

James swiped a hand under his glasses to clear the tears from his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, just-” He had to stop as he broke down in a new fit of giggles. “Why?” he put a hand out palm up. 

Before he could say anything, Peter answered for him. “I think he finally realized the ‘ignore his feelings and hope Remus falls in love with him of his own free will’ plan wasn’t working and this was the backup strategy.” 

James took a deep breath, attempting to control his laughter. “Is that what you were going for?” He turned onto the street leading to Monmouth, the abandoned factory turned pseudo apartment the three boys all shared. 

Sirius paused. “He has a nice ass,” the black haired boy muttered, voice still muffled by his hands. 

The laughter started anew, and James had to blink away tears in order to see the road. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” he gasped. “Is he also the best?” James snickered. 

Quietly, Sirius said, “Yes.” 

Somehow, Peter sobered. “Speaking of, it’s been, what, 3 years? Are you ever going to tell him you’re in love with him?” he asked. James was willing to bet that was a strong ‘no’ which was a real shame since Remus had also told James he was in love with Sirius. It was painful, really. 

Having reached Monmouth, the Pig ambled to a stop in the gravel outside the building next to Sirius’ motorcycle. 

Sirius’ face had gone blank. “I plead the fifth,” he answered. 

James grinned. “Ah, I see we’re back to the ‘‘ignore his feelings and hope Remus falls in love with him of his own free will’ strategy.”

Sirius groaned. 

-

Over at 300 Fox Way, Lily was just finishing dinner when she heard a blip. She glanced at her phone to see it was Remus letting her know he had gotten home safely. 

She took her dishes to the sink and typed out a response, not reassured in the slightest. The text only served to prove to her he hadn’t died yet. Now that he was home, he would be making dinner, sorting through bills, doing chores, and staying up until the wee hours of the morning finishing homework only to wake up early to practice while the school gym was empty. 

She really worried about him sometimes. 

“Oh, Lils, would you mind doing the dishes?” her mother asked from the living room. 

Upstairs, she heard one of her cousins or aunts moving around. “Of course, mom,” she answered. Thankfully, there weren’t too many since the rest of the family had eaten before Lily and Liam had gotten home, so it wouldn’t take long. 

On the way to the sink, though, she happened to glance at the fridge and saw her sister’s garish wedding invitation. 

Save the Date!

Petunia Evans and Vernon Dursley invite you and a plus one to their wedding Nov. 15 at First Baptist Church of Henrietta. 

RSVP by Oct. 1 through email, text, or call. 

And then it listed off Petunia’s email address and phone number. 

Lily groaned internally, trying to figure out how she was going to get a date. When she’d RSVPed back in July, she had hoped she could go with- 

No. There was no point in going down that rabbit hole. It was hard enough hiding it from her psychic family; it would do her no good to think about it on purpose. 

She would just have to figure out someone else to go with. 

-

On the other side of town, at number 12 Grimmauld Place, Regulus Black flopped onto his bed and groaned. “Fuck my life,” he muttered. 

It had been a long-ass day of Death Eater meetings, classes filled with idiots, homework, and more meetings. He hadn’t even gotten to bring his phone with him anywhere, so he could only guess how many notifications had piled up throughout the day. 

He dug his phone out of the slit in his mattress and rolled onto his back. 

16 new messages

He smiled and clicked on the group chat. 

The better ones

11:56 a.m.

Barty: who has the math homework please i’m desperate

Evan: *image*

Dorcas: really

Dorcas: that’s all it took

Dorcas: some whining

Dorcas: how do you feel about this reg

Evan: you didn’t have to sit with him in class meadowes

Dorcas: you still could have at least made him beg

Evan: oh, believe me, he did

Barty: i did

Dorcas: oh my god

Pandora: i think it’s nice that evan’s willing to baby his boyfriend like that

12:21 a.m.

Regulus: dora i love you but you’re wrong

Regulus: you should have made him suffer

Barty: thanks reg

Regulus: np

Pandora: alright i’m going to bed

Evan: good idea

Evan: barty

Barty: …fine

Evan: reg

Regulus: only if dorcas does too

Dorcas: only so reg has to

Pandora: :))) nighty night

Aaaaand that was the most exciting part of his day. 

Quickly, he fired off messages to each of his friends individually as they had all sent him separate texts asking if he was ok since he’d missed the first half of the school day which also happened to be the only classes he had with his friends. 

He’d only missed because his parents had called him out for ‘family reasons’ which, in this case, was sitting in on a Death Eater meeting while every single person attending barring some of the younger ones gave reports on what pieces of Henrietta’s real estate they had managed to snag in the six months since the last meeting. His parents, of course, had won, but that was only because they already owned half the town. 

He was there ‘to observe’, but really, how much could one observe of the exact same speech over and over again? 

His only solace was that the Evans and Potters were still fighting strong against Abraxas Malfoy, a fact that had angered Voldemort greatly. 

Regulus had to hope that the last few properties standing against the Death Eaters held, because if they didn’t, they were all doomed. 

#marauders #marauders era #raven cycle au #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #pandora lovegood #keeping the faith

[unnaturalbleu]

DSMP SCHOOL NEWS AU

Anchors: Dream, Sapnap, Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo, Quackity, Schlatt

Camera: Eret, Tubbo, George

Teleprompter: George, Tubbo, Fundy

Editors: George, Fundy, Tubbo

Producers: Tubbo, Wilbur, Dream, Eret, Karl,

Notes: George is forced to only be a part of the behind the scenes because of some repetitive unspoken events.

Tubbo has the power and experience to produce his own one man news show (he’s done it once and he can do it again.)

1st class period of the day. The school news show only provides the limited amount of “school” related news and the rest is just fuckery produced by the students.

Dream and Sapnap are the favored anchor duo. George never arrives to school on time so he sticks to just helping draft segments.

On the rare days, in the middle of the show with no introduction whatsoever, students will see a fifteen second vertical formatted video of George doing whatever the fuck he does.

George has been banned from the editing booth multiple times. He is now just a cameo… (unless)

Wilbur only joined for the CTE credit and easy pass.

But for the passing grade, he actually needed to produce segments so with one 50 second video of him walking around the school proposing a revolution. No one knows what the revolution is for but with the mild subtext of drugs, he gained a following of freshman that trailed behind him like ducks during passing period.

Tommy switched into school news, naturally following Wilbur. He didn’t do much besides grabbing a camera and finding ways to push Dream’s buttons.

The dteam trio were on a school field trip for whatever reason one day. Wilbur, Tommy, Fundy, Tubbo, and Eret realized that ten minutes before the bell for second period was about to ring, they didn’t have a news show.

Nobody had access the script, (or so they thought, really in too much of a rush to check the class files,) Wilbur begins bullshitting his way out of every news section.

The College and Career time slot was just Wilbur talking about the politics among the student body.

Tommy brought on sports by talking about Minecraft, I mean why wouldn’t he?

Fundy straight up speed edited the show. He’s never done that before. He was only in that class cause the rest of the electives were full.

Wilbur being hella proud of the freshman somehow whipping together a show right before the bell rings, he adopts Fundy. Senior adopting freshman moment.

Tubbo even found an entire folder among the school computer dedicated to George’s cryptic short videos. He throws one in to keep the consistency of the show.

When it’s aired, the teachers are confused and the students are mildly entertained. It was a success.

When the dteam come to school the next day, Dream and Sapnap find out that they are pushed to anchor the shows every other day. The other days, Tommy and Wilbur fill that spot.

War had begun. And the student body was only a witness.

It was decided, Wilbur made shows for men

It had begun from adding difficult words to pronounce in the script to adding props in the background. Everyday a crew sabotaged the other. The student body actually caught on and tried to notice the little Easter eggs of the opposing crew.

The dteam somehow took Fundy hostage, and the freshman (who actually wasn’t a freshman, just somehow everyone assumed he was) edited their shows from time to time, but he’s still loyal to Wilbur.

Eret, however, was persuaded by Dream’s offering of getting them coffee everyday. A dramatic day it was when the segment of Eret’s betrayal was released.

Some kid from the graphic design class had actually printed out revolutionary posters for Wilburs crew.

Near the end of the semester, their teacher politely begged the students to just end the rivalry and produce a normal show. Dream and Wilbur had actually typed up a full on contract for their teacher and talked to the principle about how they were going to conclude their story on the very last day of class for that semester.

Tommy and Dream were anchoring together that day. The show ran longer than any other show before. Between each actual section of school news, there were segments. Tommy and Dream even had a debate and school approved duel (kahoot).

All the students were shocked. Did it really just end? The crews built that whole story for months and it ended.

But that was only first semester. Everyone had more cards to play.

NEXT SEMESTER (a mess/ my brain cant remember most of the election arc so its just a plain mess at this point)

Around the time when the whole school was electing their student body presidents, he didn't have any interest in it, but Wilbur decided to get political and worm his way into the student elections just for entertainments sake of the news segments.

Dream didn't have much time on his hands this semester so he only stuck to regular news.

Sapnap cried about it and tried to drag George with him to make a segment, but the man is still banned from the news. He makes a segment about finding a new partner to produce segments with. He got himself a fiancé instead.

George gets unbanned from the show for like one day and he also, for some reason, also gets married to ninja... the teacher banned him very quickly.

When Dream actual out his focus back onto the news again, he found out everyone was getting married and he was very lost on whatever lore Wilbur's crew was producing.

Why was Wilbur filming inside of the janitors closet. Who was the new kid, (Schlatt), that was anchoring solo with Quackity. Fundy and Tubbo still stayed in the editors booth, seemingly oblivious to whatever's happened.

As one of those off days where everyone is just absent for some reason, Dream is half asleep, trying to get through reading the news. "And next in sports... Dream will you marry me, the basketball team won last nights game– Wait what?" he reads out, he looks over to the booth and it's just Fundy in there sitting at the teleprompter. "I'll bring you breakfast tomorrow if you say yes" Fundy types through the teleprompter. Fundy edits that part of the show out just so the teacher won't get mad.

The next day George walks into the booth to find Dream and Fundy sharing a whole ass buffet. He walks out.

Tommy was persistent to bring one of his friends onto the show just for a little cameo. Techno didn't understand anything that was happening but weeks later, he's still there and now has a cult following.

Towards the end of the school year, they make the last week of news very eventful. All school related news was speed ran and cut to one minute, the rest was just segments. Most was just a farewell for the seniors (/wilbur).

anyone please add onto this,,

#dsmp au #dream #sapnap #itsfundy #fundy #georgenotfound #wilbursoot #tubbolive #tubbo #eret #eret mcyt #tommyinnit #dream smp au #au #school news au #l'manberg #l'manburg #dream mcyt #karlnap #schlatt dsmp #quackity #fundywastaken

[sunnysviolin]

God I love your blog I spent all day just looking at it and I’m like yes more Omori brain worms

Also, what do you think the Omori gang’s jobs would be when they’re adults? I kinda meta’d and thought Sunny would be a little comic book artist with the character Omoriboy but I’m curious on your thoughts

Awww thank you! Also you have given me the perfect excuse to show off my happiest AU aka the ‘everyone stays in town together, and lowkey they all live at Hero’s house’  I have a lot of different ideas for what they could end up being, so if this isn’t your cup of tea it’s not my firm canon haha! I actually do have an artist sunny series which would probably be up your alley if you were interested in hearing about that too! Alsooooo this got long again it’s under a read more. I’m calling it Come Home series and I really like it if you guys are interested in hearing more 0-0 I only talk about Basil Sunny and Kel here haha because it got long long, but there’s defintiely another part coming to this if you guys want it! 

Basil starts going back to school post-canon, and he ends up doing pretty good for his last two years, but it’s still a struggle considering he missed so much school over the last four years. The idea of going to college is particularly stressful to him, so Polly doesn’t push it on him. She didn’t end up finishing college, and she turned out alright. 

Polly does want Basil to be thinking about his future though, and so she encourages him to find something related to what he’s passionate about. Which leads to Basil working part time at Fix-It in the gardening section. 

He quickly branches out of just gardening, although that is still his favorite. There’s something deeply gratifying about seeing what he’s created with his own two hands, and having people ask for his help only with simple things he can fix for them. 

Basil starts up a deep mentoring relationship with the couple who owns  Fix-It. They like to hear his passionate rambles about the flowers, and they like the ideas he has. Basil starts to lead flower arrangement classes, and they end up being a big hit. 

When he’s in the spring of his senior year, they ask him about his plans. When they find out he isn’t really all that interested in college, they ask if he could come on full time, and maybe even apprentice. They have a son of their own, but he is a lawyer and has no interest in the shop. Basil is excited by this, and he almost immediately agrees. 

There’s a lot more to running the shop then he thought, but he loves it. He’s content just to be the manager for now, but the couple has assured him that within the next five years they plan to retire and the shop will be his for good.

Kel does end up getting a scholarship for basketball. It’s to a good school (not quite Hero’s level, but better than his parents expected). It’s a big state school compared to Hero’s tiny private, but his parents are happy and they have a winning basketball team. The problem is that Kel has no idea what he would want to do. 

He had some ideas, but I think that learning the truth really affected him. He had thought he wanted to be a basketball star, or something to do with the sports industry, but that all feels so juvenile now. Now Kel wants to do something real and good. He wants to work with people, but he isn’t sure what that might mean. 

Kel goes to school as an undecided major, and they stick him in a bunch of different types of classes. Most of them are painfully boring, hard, and he just isn’t interested. He briefly considers dropping out, but he knows how disappointed his mom and dad would be. They didn’t get the opportunity to get a college degree, so it kind of feels like slapping them in the face if he gave back all the money he got just because he didn’t have any passion. 

There is one class that Kel really enjoys. The class is called Child’s Play and it’s a psychology course. Specifically a class on the influence of play children’s lives. It’s still hard for him, and he struggles to fully comprehend the material, but it’s something he’s passionate about. 

He talks with his advisor about it, and the man suggests combining all of the things he’s been passionate about so far. He wants to do good for other people, he is interested in sports, and he liked learning about how children work. His advisor puts him in an education couse and a few physical health courses, and Kel enters his sophomore year with a physical education major. 

Kel doesn’t graduate with honors like Hero, but he does graduate with a plan. He does his student teaching at Faraway High, his connections with his coach and the school helping to grease the wheels. (It doesn’t hurt that he’s living with Sunny by this point, and Sunny got a job offer in Faraway that he’s going to accept...but more on that later)

They offer him a tentative position at the end of the year, and he accepts it. He also takes on the basketball team, and they win the playoffs for the first time since he graduated, which cinches his job in tight.

Sunny also doesn’t end up going to college. Not only did he not have the grades, it just wasn’t something he thought he would be very good at. He doesn’t really have a plan, just that he wants to still be by his friends. Hero is far from them now, and Aubrey is planning on going away too, but Basil and Kel are staying close by

He ends up talking to Kel about it late one night, and Kel proposes a great idea. They’ll get an apartment together off campus instead of him living in the dorms, and Sunny can figure his life out while Kel gets a friend and study partner. 

Sunny’s mother is very happy with this idea, and Kel’s parents are satisfied that he won’t be off partying every night if he has Sunny with him, so they agree as well. What Sunny’s mother isn’t excited about is the idea of her baby not getting any degree or anything. So she makes a compromise. She and Sunny will find a good trade school near Kel’s college, and Sunny will take classes in something he enjoys

She assumes he will pick art classes or something that she knows he likes, but Sunny surprisingly picks veterinary certification. It feels out of left field, but if it makes Sunny happy and he’s going to go to his internships and his classes then so be it. 

Sunny is never top of the class, but he is serious about doing well. There are aspects of the job that he does not do well with, but he manages. He gets his vet tech certification and finds a starting position near where he lives with Kel

Living with Kel is a breath of fresh air. It feels good to have a partner in life who doesn’t expect him to talk or to act like everyone else. Kel is a master at reading Sunny, and it’s a bone deep relaxation to not have to try and express himself. Most of the time Sunny can just listen and let Kel talk to him. They work well with chores and food and generally everything. Every day feels like a sleepover honestly, and Sunny starts to smile a bit more and reach just a little father out of his comfort zone. 

Kel loves living with Sunny. Every night they get to just spend time together and enjoy each others presence, and sometimes Basil will come up and they all get to eat dinner together in their little shoebox apartment. One of their windowsills is full of plants that Basil has brought them. 

At the end of their four years Kel knows that he wants to go back to Faraway to work. He has been commuting there for student teaching, and while it’s only an hour, it’s still pretty far. The problem is that he can’t imagine leaving Sunny alone. Not after four years of them being together every single day. Then Sunny reveals that he found a job in the town next to Faraway that he wants to take. He doesn’t want to leave Kel though, and he’s not sure what to do. 

They have a long conversation that night, and they both agree that they want to stay together. It’s been an unspoken thing, but neither of them ended up having any long term partner in the last four years. They don’t have romantic feelings for one another, but they want to continue what they have. It’s safe, it’s lovely, and they feel secure in their bond. Whatever happens they want to decide as a team, as a partnership. 

With Kel and Sunny both coming back to Faraway they assume that they’re going to have to try and find a place to live closer. They’re going to stay with Kel’s parents until they do, but Basil has a better idea. 

Polly loves Basil a lot. She has adored getting to raise him and helping him and guiding him the last six years. But now her quiet sweet boy is a grown man, and his parents stopped paying her for caring for him over a year ago. She knows that the best thing to do would be to detach herself and to let him continue to grow without her constant presence. 

Basil isn’t sure he’s ready to be all by himself, and when he finds out Kel and Sunny are coming back to Faraway, he offers to let them stay at his house. It might be a bit cramped all three of them, and they don’t have to, but it could be nice. They say yes before he can even begin to second guess himself

So as bright and bushy 21/22 year olds, Kel, Basil, and Sunny all have Come Home. 

#asks #agentmaplficent #omori #omori headcanons #omori headcanon #omori au #omori post canon #Come Home series #omori sunny #omori kel #omori basil #A bit of #queerplatonic suntan #omori suntan #kind of morphing into #queerplatonic sunkissed #they're homies okay #they just like to be together #omori polly

[dyketectivecomics]

I started typing this out last night & work was slow today, so here's some backstory/building blocks for the Batcavers AU (long post is Long so under a cut it goes!):

Bruce's adventures in solo spelunking & cave cartography started about when he's 15/16 & goes back down the well on a whim. Martha gets worried when he starts spending too much time alone down there tho & makes Bruce promise to never go without a friend

his usual go-tos are Harvey & Tommy, but a couple times when Zatanna was in town, she joined him. we love childhood friendssss

(now insert some benign reasons for idk other heroes/rogues to join him somehow fdjksla idk man. these are early years stuff)

i know i said it earlier, but all the rooms/Major formations follow a shakespeare theme. all of bruce's friends call him a Nerd for it fjdakls;

Bruce becomes a professional spelunker & speleologist and develops out the cave for the public to enjoy & continually explores and maps out the system. he's a big advocate for Bats too

and that's how the Media dubs him..... "The Bat Man" fkjdsalf; ROLL CREDITS

So the Tour Guide Kids:

So Dick & Babs were some of the first kids hired who have stayed the longest, obvsly. (dick's nickname is still robin bc circus origin is the same lmao. Babs gets the 'Batgirl' nickname for a few years when she gets chased by a couple of them lmao)

Dick fell in love with the cave when Haly’s visited gotham and his parents took him on one of the tours. When Dick starts college in Gotham, he works at the cave part-time mostly in the ‘off’ season (but a little over one summer too when he doesn’t tour with halys bc of some summer courses he’s signed up for).

Babs has been working at the cave for a few years ahead of him. At this point in time, Dicks been promoted to a supervisor/senior guide position & Babs works mostly in admin and overseeing communication (& eventually earns the New nickname of 'Oracle' bc somehow she's always able to predict exactly what ppl are radio-ing her about lmao)

They’re constantly flirting and it’s an open secret that they’ve dated off and on at this point. Y’all this kinda shit happened SO much at my cave, the drama was RIDIC Aksjaksj

Tim and Steph start around the same time & stick around a little longer than most guides. Tim makes a niche for himself working retail and eventually moves over to the main ticket sales/admin office. He and babs absolutely Crush things when they're working overlapping days. Steph's somehow wormed her way to being under Dicks wing rn being trained as another Head Guide.

tim's nickname is 'red robin' is bc he suggested they all have dinner together after work & they somehow had the Worst Dining Experience Ever™. Steph gets her 'Spoiler' nickname bc she constantly brings up new TV show episodes and just launches right into her Thoughts™ without asking and well fjdk Spoils Things

Harper and Duke start around the same time too, they're both newer to the whole operation & are still learning the Ropes. (yall got some of my initial thoughts on duke, so i'll just touch that Harper gets the Bluebird nickname bc Dick or Steph gives it to her lmao)

You're probably wondering 'wait, where's the Other Kids?' well BUCKLE UP BUCKO, bc its SELF-INDULGENCE TIME

Damian is the easiest to explain, in this the al Ghuls run another rival company, Bruce and Talia met in college and have an off/on relationship (divorced once MAYHAPS 👀) either way, Damian’s the result of that, Talia and Bruce share custody.

Okay, realistically, Everyone’s backstories can stay p much the same or be finagled to work out realistically enough to skirt by. Cass’ backstory needs to be straight up thrown in the garbage in this bc the League doesn’t exist akjsk SO here’s what I’m proposing instead:

We’re gonna shoe-horn the Jason & Cass twin theory and also have Bruce adopt them both bc REASONS. (Those reasons are, they were trying to steal Bruce’s tires and they were doing a REALLY good job of it w/ Cass distracting ppl and Jason doing his nascar tryout lmao, but Bruce caught on bc This Is Gotham and was basically like ‘you little shits (laughing the entire time)’ and the rest is History

ANYWAYS all of that to say that all three of them grow up basically having the run of the the cave and doin what they want aksj, Damian’s a little young yet in this to be giving tours/working, but all 3 have varying levels of interest in the cave

Jason loves being a guide, but is a little abrasive when ppl ask REALLY dumb questions. He WILL sass them if it’s something just objectively dumb. (Someone asked me when we moved closer to the highway. Like SIR) Cass likes giving the off-trail tours more than doing the big guided groups & likes helping with training new guides, so she’s more hands-on in those situations. Damian rlly rlly wants to help map out areas with smaller openings to see if he can find More Cave but it gives Bruce a heart attack having him down there and disregarding all safety precautions so he’s constantly being benched from that

Oh ye, so for nicknames, Jay gets Red Hood bc he’s always wearing a red beanie even when it’s the middle of summer. Cass gets the Batgirl one passed down to her bc she’s a pro at catching stray bats/somehow corralling ‘em to leave the main rooms. Dami is the baby bat/robin bc he’s always following either Bruce or Dick around when he’s on the property.

Let the Not-So-Shitty Summer Job AU begin hahaha

#batcavers au #I won’t tag em directly but ye!!! #now that I’ve got the Ground Work thoughts..... I could probably do snippets for this some day #still wanna finish a few more in the inbox first at least tho ;-;

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,983

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: implied anxiety attack, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <none>

...

The four boys were in Roman's room; Virgil sprawled across the bed lazily, Patton and Logan observing Roman's pet turtle, and Roman taking out the Cress plants and setting them on the window sill by his desk.

"soooooooo adorable!!" Patton yelped. he was naturally very enthusiastic, but seemed to be putting a little extra umph into it now.

Logan smiled over at him. "Quite. This is a Trachemys Scripta Elegans, also known as the red-eared pond slider. These are among the most common species of pet turtles. Although, despite their prevalence, they are indeed 'adorable.'" Upon finishing his analysis, Logan looked back to Patton, who had been watching intently as Logan explained. Patton felt a light blush rise to his cheeks, looking away from Logan.

"H-how do you know so much about turtles?" Patton said quietly.

"Well, when I was young, I really wanted a pet turtle. My mother, well, she supported it, but my dad... well, they came to a compromise, that if I did my research and took care of it on my own, that I could have a pet turtle."

"...And? Did you end up getting one?" Patton asked, his face showing plainly how emotionally invested in this story he'd become.

"Yes. His name was Star, I had him for a total of two years and three months." Logan said shortly.

"Why only two years? What happened?" Patton said. "I thought turtles lived for a long time?"

"They do, but Star was already 46. I got him from a rescue center; he had been left in an aquarium on the side of the road. I knew before committing to keeping him that he wouldn't last too much longer." Logan reminisced, but only for a moment. "Anyway, that was years ago." He said shortly, turning away from Patton.

Just at that moment, Roman turned around and cleared his throat. "If I could have everyone's undivided attention," he side-eyed Virgil aggressively, who just smirked and seemed to relax more into Roman's bed. "ugh, typical. will you please come and join the conversation, Hot Topic?" he pressed.

"Aww, you think I'm hot." Virgil teased back as he sat up. Roman's eyes went wide, his cheeks darkening. But before Virgil could notice, Patton diverted the conversation.

"What's the plan, Roman? Logan?" Patton looked between the two of them, and they looked at each other. They both went to speak at the same time, interrupting each other. While Roman chuckled at the situation, Logan took the opportunity to speak first.

"Well, I assume that you don't have any fertilizer Roman, so we'll-"

"Actually, I had my dad pick some up on his way home from work! He bought two very different brands- one mainstream and one... liberal. I'll go grab those, and some plant pots." Roman interjected, and then pranced off out of his room to collect said items, leaving the three others alone in the room.

Immediately, Virgil got up from the bed, and bent down to check under the bed, rummaging around.

"What are you doing, Virgil?" Logan asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose again.

"Yeah, isn't that including on Roman's privacy?" Patton said, sounding a bit concerned.

"I believe the word you mean to use is 'intruding,' Patton, and the correct wording would be 'intruding upon,'" Logan corrected.

"Oh, sorry, 'intruding upon.' Thanks, Lo!" Patton said, smiling brightly. Logan felt his cheeks heat up, and smiled softly back to him.

"Well, if you must know," Virgil grunted, getting up from his crouching position on the floor and moving to examine Roman's bedside table, "I'm looking for his stash."

Logan and Patton shared a confused look. "what do you mean 'his stash?'" Patton asked, somehow looking more confused.

Virgil was now making his way into Roman's closet. "Whatever that means for Roman, I guess. the stuff he hides from his parents. Drugs, porn, you know. something juicy." Virgil clarified. Patton winced at the p word.

"Virgil! Not only is that - intruding upon - his privacy, but that's downright disrespectful! you stop that right now!" As Patton finished speaking, Virgil emerged from the closet empty handed.

"Well, either way, I just checked all the classic spots. nothing to write home about. Guess I'll have to up my searching game for next week." He teased Patton, who whimpered. Virgil plopped back onto the bed, and Logan was about to ask why Virgil would need to write a letter to his parents when he'd be returning home far before a letter would arrive. But, his opening mouth was cut off, as Roman returned with two small flat pots, both already consisting of two different looking types of fertilizer.

"It's amazing, the differences between these," Roman said, presenting the pots to his teammates. Patton leaned in, and Roman made a good point. One pot had grayer dirt, and much fewer flecks of minerals and nutrients, and the other looked rich with life - Patton half expected a worm to emerge from it.

Logan walked over to the sill where Roman had put the plants, setting them down on the empty section of the desk. Roman brought over the pots, and Logan pulled the Garden Cress plants out of their temporary plastic pots, placing them gently in their respective pots. While he did this, Roman stepped behind him and put his arms around Logan's waist, and growled lightly into his ear. Virgil scowled in their general direction, and Patton's face fell.

Through his blush, Logan cleared his throat. "Roman, that is inappropriate behavior, and frankly I'm not comfortable with it. Our relationship is currently strictly professional." His voice was a little unsteady and cracked once, but he kept himself composed for the most part.

Roman considered continuing to tease him, but decided to take a nobler, grander route. "Fine," He began, releasing Logan from their intimate embrace, "I'll leave you be today, but on one condition. Logan Montgomery, will you go on a date with me?"

Everyone in the room was shocked into silence, even Roman. He was surprised at his own confidence, but he just rolled with it, as he usually did. Virgil's scowl just worsened, and he quietly said he had to use the restroom, leaving with hardly a sound. Patton just looked horrified, all the color having drained from his face. But no one was looking at him.

Logan turned around slowly, looking Roman in the eyes, half expecting him to have some silly grin on his face and say "haha, just kidding! Man, I really had you there!" or something of the like. But Roman just returned his gaze confidently, a small smile tracing his face.

"...You're serious?" Logan said after a long moment. Patton was praying that he wasn't.

"deadly," Said Roman, his smile widening slightly.

Logan thought for a long moment. "...w-well, I'm not sure that's appropriate, consid-"

"Come on, just one date. That's all." Roman pleaded.

"And what of your reputation? Won't people be jealous? What if someone does someth-"

"I promise, I'll keep my... fans... from messing with you, if that's your biggest worry. Please, please please?" Roman pressed.

"...A-and I'm not sure my parents would approve. They've never allowed me to be involved with anyone romantically before, so-"

"I'm sure they'll be more understanding this time around! Or, better yet, just don't tell them!" Roman countered. He had a glint of determination in his eyes, and Logan knew he wasn't going to back down. He spent a long moment trying to think of some conflicting factor, but he couldn't come up with a thing. He also considered simply telling him he wasn't interested, but that would be a lie. Despite his better nature, Roman did capture his attention.

And so, with a somewhat defeated tone, Logan sighed and pushed his glasses up again. "Fine. One date. But that is all. I wouldn't plan on-" Logan tried to be stern, but Roman was pumping his fists in the air excitedly.

"yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!!!! Woohoo!!!!!!! Be prepared for the most romantic and fantastical evening of your life, my Iron Giant Nerd!! How's Thursday sound?"

"That is... adequate," Logan responded, not knowing what else to say.

"Excellent! Just give me one moment." Roman pulled out his phone, and from what Logan could see, he was looking something up. "...Okay! Perfect. I'll pick you up at from your house at, say, 7?"

"okay. I'll text you the address beforehand." Logan said shortly. He then set the pots on the windowsill, assuring that they were receiving equal amounts of light. "Alright, I'm going to go wash my hands in the kitchen and get some water for our specimens. Roman, the kitchen is the first left down the hall, correct?" Roman nodded, and Logan left swiftly. Roman just punched the air a few more times, and then fell back on his bed with a plop.

Patton was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the ring on his right middle finger. Don't let it show.

He turned to address Roman, a smile gracing his face that few people would know was forced. "Congratulations on your first date, Roman! You guys make an adorable couple. I wish you a successful relationship!" He said.

Roman sat up and eyed him. "Really? I mean, from the way you and Logan were talking, I would've guessed you have a crush on-"

"Nope!" Patton said shortly, smiling more intensely. "I like Logan a lot as a friend, but I'm so glad he has you now! Well, hopefully. We'll see after your first date! What do you think, will he want to go on another one?" Patton waggled his eyebrows.

Roman delved back into his self-centered world once again, considering Patton's query. "Well, I certainly hope so. I'm quite... attracted to Logan, so hopefully we connect on an emotional and mental level as well. If I play my cards right, I think he'll fall for me." Roman idly speculated, smiling at Patton.

"I'm sure! I mean, you are such a charmer, from what I've seen. I-I mean no disrespect! I don't mean like that. I mean you have an inmate skill for attracting people! I think you have a shot." As Patton finished, Logan returned with clean hands and a spray bottle, walking over to the plants in the sill.

"Once again Patton, the word you mean to use is 'innate.' Don't worry, you'll get there." Logan assured, spritzing each plant exactly five times. "Roman, since you'll be the primary parent of these plants, i beg you, please don't falter in consistently watering them. five spritzes each, every day, preferably when you get home from school. If you don't have confidence in your commitment to this, as I don't, I suggest setting a reminder on your phone." Logan turned to Roman, watching expectantly for him to pull out his phone.

"Oh calm down, calculator watch. I have complete 'confidence in my commitment,' thank you very much," Roman said, earning a grimace from Logan, who then turned away and pulled out his own phone. Once Logan's attention was diverted, Roman did in fact pull out his phone and set a reminder for watering the cress.

Just as he was slipping his phone back into his pocket, Roman felt it buzz. "There's my address. Now, I'm going to call my parental units. I must be getting home, as I have work to do. For now, none of you should worry about the report itself, I'll be writing up a draft tonight and sharing it with each of you. Excuse me." And with that, Logan left the room once again to call his father, leaving Roman and Patton in silence.

Suddenly, Roman thought of something. "Hey, where's Virgil? Count Woe-laf may not be the best company, but it seems he's been absent for an excessive amount of time."

Patton didn't say anything as he listened to Roman, his thoughts quickly beginning to race. He's right. When did Virgil leave? Oh, when Roman first asked Logan. Oh, no... he wouldn't have been gone this long, unless-

Patton stood abruptly. "Wait here. I'll be right back." He said quickly, rushing out the door, leaving Roman to speculate.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #prinxiety #logicality #logan x patton #roman x virgil #high school au #slow burn

[write-a-bad-romance]

Napoleon x Wellington Angst Request

Ooooh good suggestion, @nuclearwinterexe! Now’s a good chance to explore Wells’ role in my modern AU. 

Wells and Napo were fellow Psychology students, but then a fallout happened that ruined their relationship as well as their reputation on campus. While they do time and again after graduation, they’re both too stubborn to reconcile. Now that’s one wound that can’t heal.

So, here you go! Jealous angry disaster bi Wellington feat Napoleon x Josephine!

Rated T for cursing and deregatory words towards Modern AU!Josephine

Wellesley carefully stuffed his bag in the overhead compartment before settling into his seat. The glass on the window reflected the garish teal-pink-and neon yellow upholstery of the train seats. Not that he cared the first time.

A video on YouTube said that terrible thoughts and intrusive memories were no different than ugly train upholstery. They might hurt your eyes, but you'd have no choice but to endure the ride so long as you wanted to get from one station to the next.

But he was presented with a different kind of suffering as he reeled back to three days ago. He had confronted his (now-former, he thought bitterly) running mate, and it led into an outburst.

"What's this? Dropping out of the race? Why do I only hear of this now, Bonaparte?"

"I was going to tell you, but I was afraid you wouldn't like it—"

"Afraid, my arse! It was the backlash you were scared of, as you should be. This will not go well over our supporters and seniors, you know it."

"I'm well aware. That's why you're the first person I intended to consult first."

"The first person, eh? Too bad your friends couldn't keep mum about your little secrets since I found out about this from a junior. What was it you didn't want me to do if I found out? Hmmm?"

"That you'd feel hurt," The other man gulped, looking strangely small to Wellesley at that moment.

Hurt? As if I needed your protection from anything, he thought with ire.

Wellesley's icy blue eyes bore into emerald ones. He was appalled by the lack of luster in those  orbs.

"Oh, just be frank now," he spat. "What did that snake of a woman tell you this time?"

Wellesley was never one to let his emotions spill. He was used to being ignored by his family, and in turn, he ignored them. The Irishman took pride in his unbroken character and iron will. 

Qualities he believed had drawn Bonaparte in.

Bonaparte. Brilliant Bonaparte. Straightforward and ambitious, rightfully so. He had the intelligence and charm to bend fate to his will, to get the entire student body bow under his heels. Wellesley was a lawful man, and the image of Napoleon pulling on the faculty's rein disturbed a part of his rationale.

Another sick part directed him to play the hero and aid Bonaparte from the shadows, acting as the righteous voice of reason for the hotheaded prodigy. It led them both on a campaign to install Bonaparte as president of the Student Board, with Wellesley by his side as his vice president.

But dreams remained dreams as the once-promising Corsican grew more and more yielding to his pet. The slag who poured poison into Bonaparte's ears and leading him to gradually abandon their grand pursuit.

Oblivious to the man in question himself, Wellesley and de Beauharnais engaged in a secret battle over Bonaparte's time and focus. 

(But this was a lost cause, that much Wellesley eventually came to understand. He became more of a stranger to Bonaparte than when they first met.)

What was he to Bonaparte, anyway?

Now and then, there seemed to be a distance that Wellesley could never cover. They started unaware of each other's presence, with him only catching rumors of a gifted, older student despite being in the same year. When he first met Bonaparte, they were introduced by a senior whom he admired greatly.

The senior never stopped heaping praises on Bonaparte. Despite his shy and (sickeningly) humble facade, there was a sharpness that reminded Wellesley of a hawk's. 

Fate seemed to enjoy toying with Wellesley, for Bonaparte was every bit the kind of person he wanted to avoid, but endured anyway. He loathed how the man effortlessly wormed his way into everybody's heart, making them nod and listen to his whims. 

At the same time, Bonaparte was... intimidating, for a better lack of words. His formidability was a razor-sharp edge to anyone who dared to even think about harming him in the slightest.  

Hell, he just knew Bonaparte could make the Dean himself cry if he wanted to.

Wellesley supposed he was lucky (and somewhat offended) that the star of the campus deigned to welcome him into his circle. The British was never comfortable surrounded by his irritating, mooching lackeys. They were an eyesore, though he was smart to feign friendliness.

What mattered most was Bonaparte. And it was rewarding, bargaining for an ally, and getting a friend instead. He understood what his juniors saw in Bonaparte. The man offered kindness and comfort his family seldom gave.

(Brotherly affection wasn't something he'd pin on his relationship with Bonaparte or the man with anyone else for that matter. His warmth filled more than just the void often left vacant by his siblings. And judging from Lanne's adoration that veered on lovesickness, Wellesley wasn't the only one).

A shame he decided to let the har— woman into his life. 

For Bonaparte’s sake, Wellesley had willingly been turning a blind eye on gossip surrounding the campus' so-called femme fatale, along with talks of de Beauharnais seemingly derailing Bonaparte from their campaign.

That is, until the very same senior who had introduced the two men voiced the same concerns.

Very little could shake the adamant Wellesley, yet the possibility of losing Bonaparte was enough to cause him to lose sleep for days on end. He hated it. He hated how the man could go on his way with his squeeze and not realizing it would mean the end for Wellesley.

The end of them.

I built and shaped him into the way he is, Wellesley mused. Yet you unmade him, bent, and folded him into something I never hoped to see.

Growing weary of his thoughts, Wellesley fished out his earphones from his pocket and shoved them roughly into his ears. He'd rather listen to some criminal psychologist talk murder than indulging his brain into committing further character assassination.

Terrible thoughts are ugly upholstery in a passenger car, and you can't run around trying to remove them from the entire train if you want to get to the next station.

But if Wellesley had a choice, he'd rather burn them down.

This was supposed to be short and sad but it turned longer and angrier the more I wrote through Wellesley’s POV. This turned out so vitriolic and I’m sorry.

You either live long enough to be Napoleon's longtime friend or turn into one of his bitter exes. There is no middle ground. 

Tagging @batteryrose (in case you want to see Wells being a petty ex), @kisara-16, @thedollarstoresatan, @ikesensrandomninjagirl24​, @hokkaido-the-hellbeast, @nafeary, @thesirenwashere 

(Please notify me if you’re interested in seeing more Napolington works)

#ikemen vampire #ikevam napoleon #ikevam wellington #napolington #ikevam fanfic #requests #this isn't angst this is outright anger

[jowritesthingss]

Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Eldritch Being

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through early s3-ish

Length: 2,190 words

Brief Summary: The archival team adopts a rabbit. (Part one of the Emotional Support Eldritch AU!)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is a biatch!

*

“What is it?”

Jon levels a suspicious glare down at the fluffy blob comfortably stretched out in the middle of the overstuffed break room couch.

Tim blinks owlishly at him from behind his mug of tea. “A...rabbit?”

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a rabbit?” Jon asks insistently. “Not a—a spirit, or...an animated doll, or a clown in disguise or something?”

Sighing, Tim sets his tea down on the counter. “Look, I get the whole ‘suspicious of us being murderers’ thing—no I don’t, actually, but that’s beside the point—it. is. a rabbit.” For a good measure, he walks over to sit on one side of the rabbit, reaching a hand out to the little guy’s fluffy head. If a rabbit could smile, he suspects this one would be doing so as it leans up into his hand.

“No fleas or ticks...or worms, so it’s not some Jane Prentiss Pet Sematary crossover, I promise—” Tim rolls his eyes, “—the veterinarian confirmed as much when I brought the poor thing in. Out of the mud and the rain of the gutter,” he adds, not even attempting to hide the guilt-trip. He wishes Martin were here, with his ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes.

Tim knows this is Jon he’s talking to, but surely even he can’t be that cold-hearted. He rather thinks that Jon will enjoy not being alone anymore down here during all his late nights. If he’d let himself, surely Jon would enjoy having company in the form of a teeny tiny creature that can’t and won’t harm him—which, uh, certainly is not why he’s lying about his current flat not permitting pets, no siree.

“...Fine. Whatever.” Jon points an accusing finger at him. “But we’re not keeping it,” he stresses. “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim chirps, although as he begins a staring contest with the rabbit’s curious red eyes, he has no intention of actually doing as Jon says.

Martin chooses this moment to walk through the door. His eyes light up. “Aw, is that a rabbit?”

“No, this does not mean you’re allowed to bring in more strays,” Jon snaps.

The light in Martin’s eyes fades. “Okay,” he says mournfully as he crouches to pet the rabbit, sulking.

-

“So what should we name him?” Tim asks Jon when the Head Archivist comes into the break room the next morning.

“Oh—my—” Jon startles where he stands by the counter, attempting to make himself some toast with the Archive’s horrible fifteen-year-old toaster—toast that now splatters across the floor. Somehow in his sleep-deprived stupor he must’ve missed Tim sitting on the couch with a white rabbit on his head. He never seems to really notice Tim, but at this point it’s fine enough; Tim has accepted that the guy has impossibly poor taste.

The rabbit clambers down from Tim’s shoulders, jumping off of the couch and padding over to investigate the new human(?) and the mess he made.

“How about Thumper?” Tim puzzles aloud, stretching leisurely and acting as if he doesn’t notice Jon frantically scrubbing up raspberry jam and trying to avoid the rabbit’s investigative snuffles all in one. “No, no...that’s too cliché.”

“I really don’t see the point in naming it when it shouldn’t be here more than a few weeks,” Jon comments, shooing the animal in question away before it can try to lick up any jam.

“Maybe Joe?” Tim continues loudly, as if he hadn’t heard the other. When the rabbit ambles back over to him, he scoops them up, pressing their noses together. “Ligma?” He shakes his head at the rabbit. “No, no. We need to have more sophistication as we go about this.”

“You could do with applying that sophistication to your work,” comes the grumbled retort.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jon abruptly turns to burn another piece of bread in the toaster.

-

“How about Marshmallow?”

“What on Earth—” Jon shrieks, jumping in his desk chair, and a sheaf of papers is sent flying around the office.

“The rabbit. Should we call him ‘Marshmallow’?” Tim smiles as innocently as he can manage, standing out in the hall with his head peeping into his boss’ office. “Marshie for short?”

“I am in the middle of a statement!” Jon sputters. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay....” Tim fluidly shrugs his shoulders. “What about ‘Bob’?”

“Out!”

But Tim continues to pop into Jon’s office unannounced throughout the day, tossing out name suggestions. He even manages to rope Martin into doing it too, and notes with savage delight that between the two of them and his work, Jon doesn’t get much more than a moment to wallow rest for the remainder of the day.

Between the two of them Tim and Martin manage to compile a surprisingly long list of names:

Snowball,

Posy (Martin is partial to this one because he thinks it’s cute),

Bungen Leitner,

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (“is that too American of a reference for a fanfic taking place in the UK?” “what?” “what?”),

the Bunholding,

Michael (Jon is especially averse to that one for some reason),

Cottonball,

Fluffy Bastard (Tim’s own favorite),

Bugs Bunny,

Eldritch Horror (Tim tosses that one in as a joke; no way the rabbit that eats his own shit is some kind of otherworldly being),

Big Bungus (“it’s a play off Big Chungus!” “d’you seriously think anyone else here even knows what memes are”), and

the Vampiric Count Sir Maximillianus-Who-Is-Also-A-Werebun

(Despite badgering Sasha multiple times in an attempt to get her thoughts on the matter, the only name she offers up is “Dinner”, which makes Martin cry, so that one is out.)

None of the names quite seem to fit the little white puffball that has now taken over the realm of their break room, however—so Tim and Martin find themselves going back to the drawing board. They reluctantly leave the Institute at the end of the day, still without having decided upon a name.

-

“JON JUNIOR!” Martin screeches excitedly the next morning as they’re congregating once more in the break room, zombie-like before their tea and mid-morning snack time (primary schools don’t get all the fun, okay).

Jon and Sasha startle, and for once even Tim himself jumps. The rabbit doesn’t seem to care much where he is, nibbling at some hay in his corner litter box.

“I—what?” Jon asks, flabbergasted, although he manages to not drop his toast this time. Character development.

“We should name him Jon Jr! After you!” Martin explains eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Jon tries to say, but before he can finish, Tim is jumping in.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he says, grinning broadly. “Thoughts, Sasha?”

“I’m not emotionally invested in this.” Sasha shrugs, uncaring. “I’m going back to my desk.” She takes her drink and walks out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“All right, since Sasha doesn’t care, I’ll decide her vote for her,” Tim says, carefully containing his glee. “So that’s three votes for and one against, then. Majority rules.”

“What? No!” John protests, but Tim is too busy looking at the rabbit for confirmation.

“What do you think, little guy?” He walks over, bends down, and lightly boops the rabbit’s nose. “Are you a Jon Jr?”

The rabbit twitches his nose in agreement and poops.

“Well then!” Tim stands, clapping his hands together. “That’s been decided upon.”

No, it hasn’t,” Jon insists, but Tim cares little for his boss’ objections. He’ll accept his fate as Jon Senior eventually.

-

To Tim’s utter surprise and fascination, it happens sooner than later.

Jon, Tim quickly realizes, is a lot like the one dad who says “no dog” and then ends up loving the dog more than he loves his own children.

Despite his initial objections, the daft fool ends up getting caught up in Jon Jr’s big, innocent, rabbit-y gaze (worse than even Martin’s puppy-dog eyes, they conclude gravely), and by the end of the day Friday Jon has announced that he supposes the rabbit can stay with him over weekends and holidays.

“We’re still not keeping him,” Jon reminds them all, even as the rabbit gathered in his arms, giving his nose kisses and knocking his glasses askew, says otherwise.

He gets caught trying to sneak the rabbit into his office on more than one occasion, but Martin raises a fuss about it.

(“He’s all of ours! Jon Jr is our department’s mascot now,” Martin protests defiantly. “You can’t take him away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tim adds, mostly just to stir up drama—he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. “You can’t just swoop him up and file him away like one of your statements.”

“Just don’t let it get out and chew at my electronics,” Sasha says, distractedly typing something on her phone, probably to that weird new boyfriend.)

To stave off the imminent coup, Jon Jr becomes an officially-declared resident of the break room. He slowly amasses chub around his middle and a cardboard kingdom of bunny toys, houses, blankets, and treats. A rabbit could want for nothing more.

And perhaps—perhaps a human could want for nothing more, too, Tim thinks as he looks down at the figure curled up on the sofa, rabbit nestled against his chest.

He doesn’t love the man, not by a long, long shot—doesn’t even particularly like him half the time—but Tim can’t deny that the scene is adorable. And, regardless of his very vocal protests, Jon Jr may very well be what Jon Sr needs to finally process things and move the hell on with life.

Tim smiles grimly. It’s about damn time.

He quietly closes the door to the room and heads back towards the Archives. He’ll leave Jon to wake himself up.

(And to discover for himself that Jon Jr has peed on his pants leg.)

-

Of course, this is the Archive we’re talking about, so naturally the peace is abruptly shattered, and everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tim isn’t entirely certain what happens or why, but all of a sudden Sasha isn’t really Sasha, and he and Jon have gotten backed up and cornered in the tunnels as this not-really-Sasha stalks towards them, predictably with the intent to kill, just like the rest of the spooks they are so lucky to deal with.

Tim and Jon Sr slowly back away until they hit a dead end. Meanwhile, Jon Jr licks at Tim’s arm—he’d been scooped up as they ran into the tunnels, Tim doesn’t entirely know why—and despite the fact that they are most probably about to, y’know, die, the little kisses almost feel strangely reassuring.

The thing-that-is-not-Sasha cackles, her—their?—its?—voice distorted and echoing throughout the tunnels. It stalks towards them.

All of a sudden, Jon Jr wriggles loose and leaps smoothly down onto the ground. He scampers in front of Tim and Jon, heading towards bitch-give-me-my-Sasha-back.

“No! Get back here!” Tim hisses at the rabbit, even though he knows it’s pointless. He hates to admit it, but he’s becoming rather fond of Jon Jr, even if Tim mostly brought him in to piss off and totally not help Jon. Jon—who, speaking of, seems to be equally fond now, judging by the deflating tire of a terrified squeak he makes, and the adorable immature grabby arms he makes at the little bugger.

“Junior,” Jon calls out, sounding like a toddler who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real (he is, they have the statements to prove it, he is). And Tim wants to laugh, albeit hysterically. The first time he sees his brick wall of a superior cry and it’s over a rabbit, and he’s not even going to have time to gloat over it because they’re about to die. “No! You’re going to—”

Jon Jr stops and sits in front of wholly-absolutely-totally-not-Sasha-what-the-fuck, who looks down at him, bemused through its murderous bloodlust.

The rabbit lifts a dainty paw up to his mouth, and suddenly—suddenly it’s twisting and huge, towering up to the ceiling of the tunnel, its skin hairless and tinted a sickly, glowing gray, with five, six, seven...a whole lot more limbs than a rabbit is supposed to have.

The not-rabbit unhinges its now meters-long jaw and snaps up the creature.

Tim and Jon stare at each other, wide-eyed.

There is a loud gulping sound, then a deafening crack, and suddenly there is a very normal white rabbit sitting in front of them again, carefully cleaning one paw with a very normal pink tongue.

“Wh—” Tim chokes on his own words.

The holy-shit-it-really-is-an-eldritch-horror-after-all stretches, yawns, and flops over in a dead sleep.

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon says faintly.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, light-headed. “We’re keeping the rabbit.”

-

Jon Jr the rabbit-slash-eldritch-abomination gets a very hearty dinner of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber peels that night.

-

(Tune in next time* for the terrible, terrible realization—“Jon Jr is a girl?!” (Also why is there another dead body again, dammit, can’t we go one week))

Fin

First || Next

*

(There may or may not actually be a next time. It depends. )

Behold. What very well may be the stupidest thing I have ever written. Ahem. Did I say stupidest? I meant most brilliant. Clearly I meant it’s the most brilliant thing I have ever written. Obviously.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! I have a bunch of ideas to continue this ridiculously silly AU of sorts, but idk if I’m going to quite yet and am not certain that I’ll be continuing to write for TMA. atm I’m focused on a different fandom, and I’m only on s3, so the really big idea I had has to wait, anyway.

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma #tma tim #tma jon #tim stoker #jonathan sims #tma martin #martin blackwood #tma not sasha #tma season two #ish #tma fic #tma fanfic #tma fanfiction #GiveJonATherapyBunny2020 #jwt tma #ese #cw rabbits #cw food/drink #cw swearing #i am. so sorry #(and also so so not)

[sfiddy]

So Bad

For @academialynx , who made a donation to her local food bank in return for a fic!  This is a college AU, moderately prof/student (though the theme is that they DON’T break the rules) boatloads of yearning, and janky building maintenance that leads to getting locked in a closet.  She asked me to consider the Brandon Colbein song So Bad.  Which I did.  :)

Thank you, Dear!  Here we go!

Rated T

On AO3

On FF

On Tumblr!  (keep reading!)

Another champagne cork popped and a delighted cheer spread through the room.  Glasses, plastic cups, and hastily drained coffee mugs were refreshed and the party carried on.  Theirs was not a large music department, so to have attracted a fresh, exciting, multi-talented composition and collaborative piano specialist with a few international awards, one ‘early career’ grant and another from the National Endowment for the Arts meant their modest program was about to gain a little fresh clout at interdepartmental tenured faculty meetings.

“Congratulations again, Erik!”  Dr. Nadir Khan hauled Erik into a vigorous handshake and pumped for a full three seconds.  

Erik winced.  He’d be hamfisting the keys tomorrow if they kept this up.  “Thank you, Dean Khan.  It’s an honor to join as a full professor.”

“I am Nadir to you, and don’t forget it.”  Nadir refilled Erik’s plastic cup and tapped his department coffee mug against it, sloshing their champagne into frothy heads.  “It’s hard to believe it’s been five years, Erik!  You cost me a bet, I’ll have you know.  I didn’t think you’d stay after you had to teach that semester of History of Rock and Roll for non-majors.”

The lantern-jawed oboe professor laughed.  “Or the infamous Intro to Music Theory.”

“No, no,” disagreed Umbaldo Piangi, the portly voice teacher.  “When I went on sabbatical to Teatro La Fenice and you gave him The Chamber Music Outreach Project and graduate tutoring.  No warning!”  Even the big man’s clucking tongue was musical.  “But, Piangi is back, no?  I will cut back my performance hours and take back all the lessons and weekends and let Dr. Erik Devereaux return to his writing!”

“Actually,” Erik said, and the room stilled.  “The only part I disliked was the public part.  I never minded the private instruction.  If you would like to split the load, I’m happy to keep the instructional portion while you handle the tours, performances, and...outreach?”  He suppressed the grimace well enough.

Piangi, Italian down to his fine shoes, let out a whoop and grabbed Erik in a hug so tight it pressed his ribcage and nearly dislodged his delicate porcelain mask from it’s fine wire and leather fittings.

“Ah, my partner now!  I will call donors and show off the little tweeting songbirds with my lovely Carlotta while you teach them not to call for worms!  A toast!”  Piangi held up his plastic cup once again.  

Erik accepted a toast that crackled the edge of his plastic cup and hoped for something new and shiny to distract them.  Or for the lights to suddenly flicker and fail as they were prone to do, along with randomly closing doors in the terribly laid out office and work spaces.  The college had access to talent pipelines that the underfunded and neglected department had not been able to tap.  Their aggressive recruitment of him was a last ditch effort for change before the tiny group was relegated to a four piece for the university reagent’s cocktail brunch and a marching band for the far-better funded football team.

“To Dr. Devereaux!”

With a conspiratorial grin, Erik drained his cup and winked at Piangi.  “To the songbirds.”

…

Tenure in hand, Erik started his campaign.  Once he ditched the worst teaching credits to lecturers and adjuncts, he could focus on recruiting.  Specifically, to score a few respected but not-yet-headliner talents.  Emerging performers without a good gig had few options and the status and modest stipend to be a ‘visiting artist’ might be more attractive than the floating gulag of a cruise ship.  

A few excellent but relatively unknown performers could teach and perform, receive some finishing, and get quickly farmed out into the world.  The reputation-building move would be pricey, but no one gets paid dividends before investing.

His development grant would cover three such artists.  He got more than fifty applications.  Erik rubbed his eyes under the mask.  It was a good thing he never had plans-- it would be a long weekend.

…

The old music labs building had settled over the years and gained what the senior faculty referred to as ‘personality’.   Erik took this to mean ‘genially hazardous’.  No amount of facility requests or complaints brought the doors and keys division to do maintenance.

He was a quick learner though, and only got locked in his workroom twice before catching the door with his foot became second nature.   He even set a flaking brick, plucked from a neglected flower bed outside, in the corner by the door and kicked it against the frame as a doorstop.  Every time he came to his workroom, a narrow converted closet with a work bench and packed with shelves of manuscripts, music, errant repair kits and recording equipment, he would hit the outside light switch, unlock the door, step in, catch the door, then kick the brick.  

Switch, step, catch, kick.  His shoes were gaining new wear marks.

After kicking the brick into place, Erik opened his laptop and went over the last files.  He’d asked the department admins to strip out the audio files to just the audition pieces and remove identifying details from the fifty applications.  If he was going to invite talent, their first hurdle would be their musicianship.  Once he’d culled the herd to ten, he’d submitted his picks to the dean to select the three finalists.  Now they needed invitations.  Two vocalists and a classical guitarist made the cut and he spent the next few hours getting more acquainted with their files and ignoring the pings of his filling inbox.

At least it was just his inbox.  No one came to the music labs and his closet if they could help it.

If he was honest, no one came to meet him in person if they could help it.

…

Most performers were beautiful.  Entire websites and product lines were devoted to skincare for singers, makeup tutorials, look books and wardrobe consulting.  Erik’s particular variety of deformity would stand out in any circumstances, but in an entire department stuffed with the striking, stunning, and unconventionally glorious, he bordered on eyesore.  Even Piangi could command a room with his generous, rosy smiles and booming laugh.  

The mask was the best combination of memorable and functional he could muster.  Yes, surgery was an option but who signed up for years of unnecessary pain and the risk of infection?  He had better things to do.  

Like meet with his new visiting artists.  

The classical guitarist had supple wrists and forearms like Popeye.  His rolled cuffs drew the eye to the action while his cleverly knotted scarf kept you looking at his face, framed by artfully mussed hair.  

“We’re looking forward to your first concerts and hope you’ll consider collaborations with local programs.”

The baritone had a one in a million voice.  How he hadn’t been snapped up for opera yet was a mystery but Erik supposed it was his poor presence.  When you had the goods, you still had to sell them, and the young man’s love of neon, bad hair, and questionable repertoire (pin the tail on a Hal Leonard page) needed polish.  His work was shockingly precise and sounded like he had a cathedral in his mouth.

“Our faculty and staff are a rich resource for young performers and are always eager to assist.  We often work in parallel with the communications department and local professionals to prepare our artists for the culture and community as well as the stage.”

The soprano was the risk.  The recording had been largely boilerplate and her prior experience thin.  The reason she got in was a one-point-two second pause in her audition tape.  It was the silence that told Erik she had chops.  

Imagine, a soprano unafraid of silence.  It had been late in the weekend when he selected her and had not yet been able to examine the head shot.

“I… um...”

“Yes, Dr. Devereaux?”

“Welcome, Miss Daaé.”

…

The visiting artists would survey classes, provide demonstrations and guest lectures, and appear at university events, auditions, and generally get the word out that the department was shifting to a growth phase.  That was the official description.  Unofficially, there would be a mountain of effort to make each emerging artist a shot on goal for the department.  Recording deals, major and paid appearances, and successful auditions all counted toward the tally.  

Guitar was not Erik’s forte, and as much as he could contribute to the baritone’s look and polish, Erik had cultivated a far more… refined profile than the young man aspired to.  Erik maintained collars sharp enough to cut bread and a spotless sheen on his porcelain mask.  Right now, Dean Khan aspired to cut the young man’s mullet tail off.  

“Excellent, Miss Daaé, right on time.”  Erik slid the fall board up and they prepared to work.  She understood how to modulate her tone, how to select the emotional pitch to match the song, to contrast with it for effect.  She explored her range and willingly failed to find her borders.  It all made for an excellent student.

It was the quiet that made her breathtaking.  The anticipation of her.  Tenths of seconds that tightened the chest and made a quiver run through the blood.  Not often, only when it mattered, and only when it would matter enough to do so.  

When he could stand it no more, he asked her about it.

“I’m sorry, I can try to stop.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop, I asked when you started doing it.”

She considered him, her ribbons of curling hair twisting as she shifted.  “When my father was sick.  I could feel the need for silences because he couldn’t talk anymore.  It just felt… right.”

Erik nodded.  “Again.”

…

She’d been a late bloomer.  A ghost on the scene and at least five years older than the rest of the sopranos at her stage.  It also meant she hadn’t spent her entire high school and college career belting Broadway in the recital rooms, building nodes on her vocal chords.  

They finished late one night and he walked her to her car.  “So what did you do for practice?”

She pinked under the parking lot lights.  “I, um… waited tables at an Italian restaurant.  You know, where your server might sing opera when they bring you breadsticks?”

Erik nodded.  “Parmesan and Puccini?”

Bless her, she giggled.  “Bellinis and Bellini.  A few really knew when they were hearing but most just wanted to hear Nessun Dorma because they heard it on Youtube.  I managed to get a few singing jobs out of it but I mostly just waited tables.”  They stopped at her car but she hadn’t reached for her keys yet.  “I was a bartender and the second understudy for a Gilbert and Sullivan society when I saw your announcement.”

“Their loss,” Erik said.  He left off the second half.

“Thanks.”  Christine hesitated.  “I didn’t expect to be accepted, so… thanks.”  

Something changed in the breeze.  Something cool and soft in the night air mixed with the gold light pouring down from the lights.  It highlighted the curls that spiralled out of control around her neck as she tilted her head just so.  

It was just a moment, a funny thump that ricocheted in his chest at her upturned face, her soft smile.  Maybe her eyes flicked down, maybe her sharp inhale had a little catch in it.  Maybe it was the way her lip twitched, but a red flag suddenly waved in Erik’s head and he stepped back carefully.  He had a powerful fear of heat and burns.

“Yes, of course.  The, uh, department was very happy to offer the opportunity.”

She blinked.  “Of course.  Well, thanks for the great session and walking me to my car.  Have a nice evening, Erik.”

Christine drove away and Erik stood in the parking lot for some minutes after her taillights had faded.  He imagined it.  Surely, he’d taken a friendly conversation the wrong way.  She wasn’t his student, strictly speaking, but he had influence over her career, which would be just as bad.  

Besides, he had completely misread the whole thing.  Surely.  Women didn’t look up at him like that-- like he would kiss them.  After a walk after dark, telling him about themselves, and looking at him like that.

No one looked at him like... that.

Oh no.

…

She wasn’t strictly his student.  He was her mentor.  Even a brief thought made it obvious and completely inappropriate.  Did she think it would improve her opportunities?

Erik swallowed.  No, if that was the game she wouldn’t have backed off.  Surely he’d misread the situation.

…

They brewed tea together.  She remembered his favorite oolong.

…

He saw a cascade of curling hair on his way to the post office and his heart leapt.

It wasn’t her.  The disappointment was too confusing to examine.

…

His mouth went dry when her sweater slipped from her shoulder.  Then he knocked the music from the stand.

She smiled and helped him pick up the sheets.  

There were freckles on her shoulder.

... 

Five months into the visiting artist tour and Piangi had the concert hall packed for their first performances.  Franco the guitarist, who preferred just the one name, would play a twenty minute set, followed by the baritone Burton Armstrong, as baritoney a name as Erik had ever heard, then Christine, and finally Franco would play again with accompaniment.  

Erik was content to stay in a tiny box seat far to the side as Piangi introduced each performer.  Franco had gained the stage he deserved, and Burton had been convinced to get a proper haircut and suit, and sang a particularly impressive Russian ballad set.  

Christine was introduced and settled onto the stage.  She was radiant in dark blue, and decorated her baroque set with agility.  From his perch, Erik could as easily imagine her distributing bellinis as gracing an opera stage.  It was not an insult.  After her short set, she nodded and was joined by Burton.  A duet?  

She looked up and found him, up in his perch.  She nodded, and the two launched into a series of excerpts from Semele, Handel’s somewhat neglected tale of a torrid affair between a mortal woman and the god, Jupiter.

Their gazes met as she sang.

O Jove! In pity teach me which to choose,

Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse!

The baritone thundered.

Too well I read her meaning,

But must not understand her.

If Erik’s ears heard the rest of the concert, he could not recall it later.

…

Dean Khan adjourned the faculty meeting.  “Oh Erik, if you have a moment?”

They waited until the room was cleared and Nadir closed the door, then casually looked over the remaining pastries.  “Excellent concert last month.  The work with Burton is certainly paying off.”  

Erik leaned against the table.  “His socks were bright green, but we felt it was a workable compromise.”

“Franco is excellent in front of the crowd.  Has he met the flamenco dancers yet?”

“I put in a call.  I think he’s going to their weekly meeting next Thursday.”

“Marvelous.  Let me know how that goes when you hear, won’t you?”

“Of course.”  Erik felt his chest tighten the longer Nadir perused the snacks and chose to tear off the bandage himself.  “Anything else?”

“There is, in fact,” Nadir did not look up from the muffins.  “Christine’s performance was exceptional.  Truly filled with passion.”

Erik tried to take a sip of coffee but his cup was empty.  He faked it.  “She’s a wonderful artist.”

“Yes.  I couldn’t help but notice--” Nadir paused over the croissants, then passed them over to examine the cookies.  “You two seem to have a unique and strong mentor-trainee relationship.”

“Thank you.”  It had not been a question.  There was nothing here… yet.  “We work well together.”  

“I’m glad to hear that.  The program you’ve created is admirable for it’s transparency and integrity.”

“I agree.  Thank you for noticing.”

Nadir looked up with a slight nod, then selected a macadamia cookie.  “I’m sure the remaining six months will fly by, Erik.”

He had no idea how to respond.

...

Six months.  There were six months left in the visiting artist term.  There were more sessions, a mini tour, and a series of small concerts meant to showcase the new talent the department had ‘produced’.  

Six months of lies, pretending he was misunderstanding something.  Pretending he didn’t notice the way she was at his side and on his mind.  Then she would leave him to the dull, overworked life he’d made for himself in the hopes of making a name for himself while simultaneously avoiding attention.  More lies, but easier to swallow.  

Her voice came from the hallway.  “Erik?  I’m heating up some water, would you like tea?”

“Is it the one you brought?”

A light laugh.  Sparkling.  “Of course.”

He dropped his work and grabbed his cup.  “Be right there.”

…

A very successful fundraiser was wrapping up on the top floor of the performing arts center.  It had a view over the campus, the nice side, and the glow of downtown caught the streaking rain on the tall glass walls.  

The donors had been generous, delighted with the new features of the program and the willingness to be accessible.  Erik stayed to the side, avoiding the center of the room where Piangi and his wife Carlotta took up residence.  Nadir circulated the room, nudging him out from time to time for a refill and to participate.  When forced to do so, Erik sloshed some middling red wine into his glass and let himself slip into Christine’s gravity for a few minutes before drifting away again.  

He could feel her gaze.

The cocktail party was to end at eleven-thirty, and by then nearly all the guests had left.  The last ones were rushed  out and Piangi hurried to the bar.  

“Open season!” 

A quick crush to the bar and every open bottle was ‘liberated’ to the long-suffering exhibits.  Christine topped off her glass and passed the bottle to a fellow soprano, hardly twenty years old, and the two laughed and kicked off their heels.  Piangi and Burton laughed over an earlier flub and the cello player, finally able to pack his instrument and relax, demanded and received a full glass.

Erik tipped back a hearty, warm swallow and emerged from the hinterlands.

“Oh, hi Dr. Devereaux!  Did you just get here?” teased Carlotta.  “Your legend only grows the more you hide.”

“All part of my devious plan,” he conceded.  Christine’s giggle mingled with the laughs of her peers.  “If you’ll excuse me.  Piangi, brilliant as always.”

“Same to you, Erik!  We plan many parties now, no?”

Easing his way towards the mirth, Erik relaxed.  There were plenty of others around, and this was just the after party to a long dog and pony show.  Listen to the pretty songbirds and throw money at the program, invitation only.  They all deserved drinks after three hours of that.

Christine was plucking a pin from her hair.  She shook the curls loose.  “Hi Erik!  God, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Oh?”

She held up a bottle.  “Yeah, you need a refill.”  

It had been a long night.  These events could be tricky to navigate.  Sometimes there was politics, other times business rivals.  More often, donors expected special privilege and access in exchange for their checks, as if the last hundred years of progress meant nothing.  The way a few of them had looked at Erik, maybe it didn’t.  

He let her pour some white wine over the dregs of his red.  Improvised rosé.  “Everything go okay?”  

“Good enough.  I think I have some auditions, and some stuff nearby might open up for me.”

“That’s great.  Who with?”

A nice chorus.  A solid baroque group.  Both could springboard to bigger things.  A few bigger things were here.  

“What’s bigger?”  She asked, her eyes dark and soft.  

He had not meant to speak, and now he rushed his words.  “Things!  Choirs, operas.  There’s a few small opera troupes and there’s churches that need choral directors that know how to work with organ and piano.”

She sniggered.  “Organs.”  The other soprano dissolved into giggles.

Erik pulled out his phone.  Clearly neither was driving tonight.  He absently tallied up his glasses and admitted he wasn’t either.

“Do you play the organ, Erik?”

“Yes.”

Christine stepped closer and, on pure instinct, Erik put his arm around her as she turned her head to speak.

“Can I watch?”  

His collar was tight.  He pulled up the app and ordered a car.

They ran through the rain, more than sprinkled, less than soaked.  Plenty wet to shiver from the chill of the driver’s exuberant air conditioning, though.  Between giggles and poorly composed directions, they dropped off the other soprano who wobbled successfully to her door before their driver sped away.  Christine did not shift away to the other seat, but leaned into him, tucking herself against his side.  

The driver glanced in the rear view mirror, then looked away.

She was cool and smooth.  Her loosened curls had tightened from the wet and tickled his neck and brushed against his mask.  

Her hand on his thigh.  Erik said nothing.  If he was silent there was a kind of deniability, or denial at least, of what was happening.  If he could deny that her fingernails caught on the inner seam of his trousers, then she could deny that his hand was firmly planted at her waist, holding her close.

And if she could deny that, then she could also deny that her nose bumped his chin, her ragged breath loud in his ears.  And they could both deny that their lips grazed, a not-kiss somehow more intimate than if their lips moved and pulled at each other.  Like her singing, it was the pause that made your breath catch and your insides tug.

“What number?”

Dashboards lights reflected in her eyes.  “That one,” she said, and cautiously settled.  The driver pulled forward and Christine unbuckled.  

“Good night, Erik.  See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Christine.”

The driver glanced in the rearview.  Erik looked down.  “Sorry.”

The driver shrugged.  

One more month.

…

He was hiding.  He’d been hiding for weeks; stopped looking for her, stopped even wondering where she was or if she was alone.  There was no way to be near her without the pretense of a piano that wouldn’t leave him shaking.  No way to think about her without wanting.

He was Erik, a composer, a conductor, performer, designer of auditory spaces and translator of music.  He was a collaborative pianist and vocal specialist.  He’d given everything to music and the service of it, the delivery of it.  He didn’t need this. He’d never had this.

No one ever offered.  So he’d found fulfillment elsewhere, until now.

Erik hunched over his work, safely tucked into his corner of the music labs building.  Between grading, senior thesis submissions, revisions to his own publications, and a request for a letter of recommendation, he could be plenty busy late into the night with no need for anyone to--

“Hello?  Erik?”

Erik snatched at his mask and settled it.  He’d been found.  Time to lie, except he can’t lie to her.

“Can I help you with something, Christine?”  He gathered a stack and stood.  She met him by his door.

“Well, yeah,” she paused, blocking his path momentarily before stepping aside.  “I need your signature on my visiting artist release.  And another on my endorsement for my new job.”

Erik hefted his armload to the work closet.  “I’m sure they look forward to meeting you.  Come on.”  He unlocked the door and held it open, then followed behind her, hitting the light switch with his elbow before catching the door on his foot, then he kicked the brick into place.  He had to hold the stack to keep it from spilling across the work table.

She handed him the forms.  Erik moved to a span of clean tabletop and started scanning the release form.  Government agency boilerplate to satisfy the grant was mixed with flowery language so no one would suspect they were anything but artists.  Yesterday Franco had brought Burton’s form-- yep, this was Christine’s.  So on and so forth.

Erik had just finished scratching out his signature when he heard a familiar scrape.

“Why on earth do you keep a-”

Click.

“--brick?”

Erik pressed the heel of his hand into his chin.  

“Are we… locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”  A faint rumble vibrated in the walls.  “I don’t suppose that was just… construction?”

Erik let out a mirthless laugh.  “There were storms brewing earlier.  Besides, does this building look like they work on it?”

“Not really.”

Another rumble, louder, and the light fixture jittered.  

Christine finally took a deep breath.  “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No!  Yes.  I don’t know.”  He touched his hairline, recapped a pen.  “We crossed a line.  I had to get back behind it and I couldn’t if we…”  His hands skated across the table top nervously.  

“Is this about being my mentor?”

Erik barked an ugly, bitter laugh.  “What else?  God, you just, out of nowhere, with your smiles, and the way you look at me, and sing to me, and the Semele…” Erik’s skin grew tight as he recalled the cocktail party.  He turned, face growing hot beneath the porcelain and his throat tightening.  He was a ruin.

“--and the touching and wanting and you’re… you’re just going to leave!  I’m a fucking idiot!”

On cue, an extended, throaty roar of thunder rattled the stone and brick until the bare bulb above could suffer no more.  With a loud pop, the narrow room went dark.  They both scuffled in the dark until they had hold of something sturdy.

“Erik?”

He was embarrassed.  He was frustrated.  “What.”

“You need to sign the other form.”

“Want to get away that bad?  Fine.”  He reached for a desk lamp and tried to turn it on.  He flipped the switch furiously.  The power was out.

“Here,” Christine held up her phone and lit the screen.  Her screensaver was… them? Beside a piano together?

Erik snatched a pen from the table and slashed his name.  “There.  Just search for facilities or call the university police.  They can unlock the door.”

“Erik, did you even look at it?”

“Why bother.”

She snorted at him.  “God, you’re so blind.”

“The lights were out.”

“Fine, you want to be a jerk, be one, but at least look at where I’m taking a job before you decide to walk.”

She lit up her phone once more and he glared at the page like it was staring at his mask.  He tracked the offer and terms until he reached the party names and…

“You took a job at… a middle school?  Here?”  He looked up into the dim light.  “You’re not leaving?”

“Meet the new grade six to eight choir director.  Go Scotties.  And now you have no direct influence over my career.”

Her screensaver dimmed, and before it went dark, Erik could make out a flash of their faces, turned to each other.  He wondered if Nadir had seen this moment, because they looked as passionate as lovers despite being feet apart.

The room went black again, and he could hear her moving.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That much has been apparent.  What do you know?”

She was close.  Close enough to feel the way she shifted the air.  “I know way too much about motif design, lyric phrasing--”

Closer.  “Go on.”  Her hips were near his. 

“Harmonic theory, vocals”

 “Can attest.”  Her fingertips were at his jawline, tracing his mask.  “I thought it would be cold.”

“It’s been on my face all day.  Early Romantic era competition and,” his voice scraped over gravel, “that I want you. So bad.”

Her kiss was her reply.  Erik’s hands flew around her as she pivoted to the table with him, dragging his mask upwards.  He gasped as cool air brushed his face, followed by light, curious fingertips and her hot mouth.  Erik knocked over the stack of papers and files with a satisfying splatter.

“Is that light over there?” she asked, dragging her lips from his.  “Around that cabinet door?”

“What?” he panted.  “I thought that was a panel.”

She pushed him off gently, peering up at the wall.  “Right there, see?”

Sure enough, there was a thin line of light.  It was a hidden door with a magnetic latch. 

“They can’t keep the regular door from locking you in but they put a trick door at the back?”  Erik complained as he climbed through awkwardly.  Very awkwardly.  Her lips were red and swollen.

“Let me grab my things and we can get out of here.”

Erik checked his watch.  “First, we’re turning in your forms.”

“It’s almost five!”

“We’ll make it if we run.”

Panting, they caught the dean just as he was packing up to leave.

“Erik, Christine?  Are you alright?  That was some storm we--”

Erik shoved the forms at him.  “Yep. Terrible storm.  Here.”

“Indeed, Erik.  Why, your hair is a mess and I’ve never seen your shirt untucked.”

“Big wind.  Yep.  Almost hit by lightning.  Here, time stamp?”

“Miss Daaé, you may want to adjust…”

“For God’s sake just take the stupid form so we can go!” Christine shouted.

Nadir laughed and scanned the forms.  “I don’t want to see you until Monday, Erik.  You better be late.”

He didn’t make it in until Wednesday.

...

#academialynx #poto fic #modern au #POTO college AU #e/c #yearning #So Bad

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, Chapter 1

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1688

Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of both physical and psychological abuse.

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

And we climbed onto the roof of the museum

And someone made love in the grass

And I forgot my name

And the way back to my mother’s house

-Florence + The Machine, South London Forever

Dorian Havilliard had never been happier to be with his friends. He was currently standing in Aedion Ashryver’s kitchen, drinking a beer and chatting with Chaol. The final third of their trio was busy sucking face with Rowan Whitethorn.

A lot has changed while I was away, he thought.

While his friends had been here - going to parties, hooking up with people, making memories - Dorian had been stuck at his family’s summer house, 700 miles away.

He knew he shouldn’t complain, it was a nice house - with a pool and everything - but if he had to take another day of his mother being wine drunk by 3pm, his little brother’s tantrums or his father’s extremely racist, sexist and homophobic comments he would go crazy.

Of course, not everything about his summer had been bad, but he didn’t want to think about that now.

Instead, Dorian leaned back and took another sip of his beer, enjoying the fact that he was back. «I am not drunk enough to watch this,» he said to Chaol, nodding towards Aelin and Rowan, the former now licking - actually licking - the latter’s neck.

«I know, gross right?» Chaol said, mimicking himself throwing up and earning a chuckle from Dorian in the process.

«When did this even happen?» he asked. Last time Dorian had checked, Aelin hated Rowan. Thinking back on how she always complained about the star quarterback being an annoying pain in her ass with his alpha-male bullshit, Dorian couldn’t quite fathom the sight before him.

Chaol looked towards them again with a disgusted look on his face. «No idea, I think they hooked up over the summer,» he replied, turning towards Dorian. «How about you? Met any cute girls?» Chaol wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

«Ehm..no,» Dorian replied quickly, finishing his drink.

Liar, he said to himself. He had hooked up with someone. Had even been in a relationship, brief as it was. That relationship had been the only good thing about his summer, the only thing making it bearable. Yet he couldn’t get himself to tell his friends about it. He couldn’t get himself to utter the words:

You know what? I did hook up with someone over the summer. His name was Vaughan and he looked like a god. Oh, I’m bisexual by the way.

Dorian had known for a few years now, but he still hadn’t come out to his friends. It shouldn’t have been this hard - he was living in 2019 after all - and they had been a trio for as long as he could remember. Dorian knew they would support him no matter what, but he couldn’t get himself to say it.

His spiraling train of thought was thankfully interrupted when Aelin finally came strolling into the kitchen.

«What’s up, losers,» Aelin announced, hopping onto the counter. She tried giving them her usual smirk, but all snark and bravado was replaced by blushing cheeks and a huge grin.

Chaol handed her a drink, before saying: «Who are you and what have you done to our Aelin? I can literally see hearts in your eyes.»

Dorian expected some sassy comeback, but she just giggled, looking towards the backyard where her boyfriend stood, talking to his friends.

Oh yes, things had definitely changed over the summer.

«I’m in love,» she declared, flinging her arms out and nearly hitting Dorian in the chest. «You should try it sometime,» Aelin continued, winking at Chaol.

There is the Aelin we know and love, Dorian thought.

She turned her gaze from Chaol to Dorian, giving him a once over.

«You,» she said - pointing at Dorian - «got hot over the summer.»

He felt a blush spread over his face at her words. He guessed he had changed a little over the summer. He had grown a few inches, let his hair get a little longer - the raven black curls almost falling to his eyes now - and put on a couple pounds of muscle. His mind wandered back to Vaughan and how he had shown exactly how hot he thought Dorian was.

He tried to change the subject over to something else, and said the first thing that came to mind: «I can’t believe we’ll all be seniors from tomorrow on.»

Both of his friends looked at him then. «I know!» Aelin said. «But I’ve got a feeling this year is going to be great.»

She threw her arms around their shoulders, before exclaiming: «I’ve got my boys with me after all. What could go wrong?»

And as his best friend grinned at him - the feeling of summer and freedom still lingering, music playing long into the night - Dorian couldn’t help but grin back, letting all worries and secrets fade away.

For now, at least.

-

Manon Blackbeak was sitting in her room, reading Animal Farm. The semester didn’t start until tomorrow, but the curriculum was always published a few days ahead, and her grades wouldn’t suffer from coming to class prepared. Her grandmother would only accept the best, after all.

She put away the book as she heard something rustle inside her closet. Seconds later Abraxos emerged, his head stuck inside a t-shirt. Manon sighed at the sight of the little black cat, but stepped over to help him.

Once she had freed him, she was awarded with a loud purr, his head pushing against her thigh. Manon rolled her eyes at his antics. «You stupid worm,» she mumbled, but gave in and stroked him behind his ears.

«It’s getting late,» she said to her companion. «We should head to bed, so we’re well rested for tomorrow.»

As if he understood what she was saying, Abraxos hopped onto her bed and laid down on his usual spot, right next to her pillow.

Manon turned off the lights before laying down next to him.

I will be a senior from tomorrow on, she thought.

Her summer had been rather uneventful, as usual. They never went anywhere, never did anything. Manon’s grandmother was always very busy, so she only had her cousin Asterin for company - whenever she was home, that was.

Manon spent her summers waiting for school to begin again, getting the time to pass by reading herself up on various subjects, always working to maintain her perfect GPA.

Only the best will do. Her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind. You don’t want to end up like your mother, do you?

Manon had never met her mother - since she had died right after Manon was born - but her grandmother liked to remind her of how big of a failure the woman was, having dropped out of college after being knocked up by Manon’s father.

She had never met her father either. Apparently the man was a drunken nobody, wanting nothing to do with his daughter.

Her parents wasn’t something she thought about often, but once again she heard her grandmother’s words. You will do better. Be better. Understand?

Manon’s summer hadn’t only consisted of tedious schoolwork, she had also spent countless hours at the dance studio, practicing new moves.

Dancing was her one great passion. She loved closing her eyes and getting lost in the music, her body moving to the rhythm on its own accord. On the good days, dancing felt like flying.

That was the other reason to why she was looking forward to school starting again. She hadn’t danced with her team in months. They called themselves the Thirteen, and she was their captain. As soon the semester started they could get back to practicing, working towards their goal of beating Iskra Yellowlegs and her team’s ass.

As she closed her eyes, ready to drift off to sleep, her mind wandered to Asterin. Manon hadn’t seen her cousin all evening, so she came to the conclusion that she had most likely snuck out to go to some end-of-summer party. It wouldn’t be the first time.

As if on cue, someone knocked quietly on her window.

«Speaking of the devil,» Manon said to no one in particular as she got out of bed, walked over to the window and opened it, only to find Asterin standing outside.

The girl looked wild, wearing her usual leather jacket, wavy, blonde hair hanging loose, make-up smudged around her eyes.

«Move your ass and let me in,» was her cousin’s only greeting as she stealthily climbed inside, barely making any noise.

Manon chose to ignore her and crawled back into bed. Asterin followed, shoving Abraxos out of the way and laying down next to Manon.

The cat gave Asterin an offended look before running inside the closet again.

«How drunk are you?» Manon asked her cousin, trying to ignore the stench of alcohol. 

This was going to be a long night, she thought.

Asterin turned to lay on her back. «Not too drunk, I can walk in a straight line,» she said, turning her face towards Manon’s and wiggling her eyebrows.

Manon wasn’t too sure about that, noticing the slur in her voice. All of a sudden, Asterin started to giggle.

«What’s so funny?» Manon asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

Asterin didn’t seem to care that her cousin would much rather sleep as she answered: «I’m just happy about life I guess. I have a boyfriend now.» She giggled some more, drawing out the syllables in boyfriend.

Asterin kept going, «His name is Hunter, and he’s perfect.»

So that’s why she’s been out so much lately, Manon mused to herself.

She went quiet after that, probably asleep already. Manon turned to lay on her side, -facing away from her drunk cousin - when Asterin spoke again. Her voice was quiet and surprisingly sober this time. «You didn’t tell her, right? That I was out, I mean. You know how angry she can get.»

Yes, Manon knew first hand how angry their grandmother could get, the small, white mark she bore on her left cheek proof of that.

A/N: If you finished it all, congratulations!

I never thought I would write a multichapter fic, but I got the idea for this and was unable to put it away, so here it is!

I have the full story plotted out already (although it is a mess), but don't know how often I will have the inspiration to write the chapters and post them. I don't want to make a posting schedule either because consistency is definitely not my middle name.

I just have to say that writing Manon is extremely difficult. She is one complex character. But I am trying my best, and decided to write her like I think she would be, had she been a human teenager.

Also, if it seems like the writer of this fic has never stepped foot inside an American high school, you're correct. I'm just a simple Norwegian trying my best.

Feel free to leave a comment:) Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as I am working towards improving as a writer.

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin

#throne of glass #sarah j maas #manorian #manon x dorian #manorian fanfiction #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass fanfiction #sorry for the mess that this is #also we stan abraxos as one fluffy kitten #dawninlatin QoP

[you-did-well-moon]

|Friendships| Monsta x 8th member AU|

A/N: Thanks to Kiarra @jinjinmyworld​ for helping me with girl group friends since I'm a boy group stan, and I don't know much about girl groups. If you have any questions on these don’t be afraid to ask. I have a seventeen reaction coming up next. Mama awards are here I haven't seen anything on it yet, I'm a bit exited. After this we can finally get to the real stuff, and I'm exited for my exo 10th member series.  Please don't be afraid to talk to me or to request!!!~Moon

D.O (EXO)

These two met when Arslyn was casted on Swing kids as his love interest. Both of them are quiet and don't talk much, but Arslyn actually balances Kyungsoo out well. Although Soo is quite introverted, Arslyn is an ambivert switching between introvert and extrovert depending on her mood. Arslyn had already acted in a few things before Swing Kids, but those projects would be considered small compared to Swing Kids. Arslyn is confident and pretty nonchalant when it comes to her passions, doing what has to be done and not being afraid to take risks, but when it came to this she couldn't help but feel nervous.

Kyungsoo seeing his junior so nervous was a bit conflicted. He usually left people to figure it out on their own, but he couldn't get Arslyn’s anxious face out of his minds. Kyungsoo is known for being quite reserved having a very tight knit circle of people he trusts, so when he took Arslyn under his wing he was quite shocked at how fast she managed to worm her way into his list of priorities. Although both are of few words, they found each other to be complex having elaborate personalities. Even being love interests they didn't mind much having fun with filming and learning how to tap dance. Arslyn could easily say he’s the male idol she’s closest to.

Jinyoung (GOT7)

Monbebe and Aghase know how much these two idols love literature having intricate worlds with thought out details that have you waiting for the turn of the page. Monbebe and Aghase also know that Got7 and Monsta X are close friends, but that's not how these two got close. Although these two exchanged greetings, they got closer when meeting at a book store. Arslyn and Jinyoung are known for being witty and judging their members (all in good fun of course), and while at first their personalities clashed a bit they saw themselves in each other too much to ever dislike each other.

They actually formed a little book club with the two of them where they each choose a book or the same one and talk about it. Sometimes they invite Wonwoo from seventeen to join them. When their relationship was first found out fans were skeptical of the depth their relationship held, but were quickly assured when videos of the two started coming out. People saw how they treated each other and the implication of any romantic feelings were ruled out. Jinyoung treated Arslyn like a bratty teenager he has to take care of, and Arslyn treats him like a step mom that she hates, but in the end these two care for each other deeply wanting to protect each other no matter how many dirty looks one gave the other.

Hwasa (MAMAMOO)

Hwasa and Asrlyn are known for their unique styles, both not being afraid to break female idol norms. These two met when Arslyn reached out to Hwasa for a collaboration, and Hwasa happily agreed. Right after meeting the two immidiately hit it off not really being akward with each other at all. The song broke records since both female artists are well loved and so unique. These composers love working together and Hwasa will literally brag to anyone about Arslyn, and vice versa for Arslyn. They never fail to stand up for each other, and they have endless amounts of support for each other. Arslyn can often be seen visiting Hwasa on the show I live alone, a korean variety show that showcases idols that live alone.

These two could do anything and it would be fun because they’re with each other. They have actaully revealed that they have written many diss tracks but are hesitant in releasing them. Hwasa helps Arslyn a lot with her confidence, and she doesn’t mind defending her at all. Arslyn has promised to never spend time with Hwasa when Loco is in the same room, swearing she’s never felt more like a third wheel. When ever Arslyn brings up Hwasa and Loco acting cute around each other, Hwasa just laughs promising Arslyn that when she finds out who her crush is she’s in for it. All in all, Arslyn and Hwasa know each other in and out, and they have a very strong bond.

Irene (RED VELVET)

Irene had always been someone Arslyn looked up to as a female idol liking her indpedent and strong image. Arslyn had always seen Irene in award shows, but never built up courage to go talk with her or greet her. They officialy met when Kihyun sent Arslyn to the supermarket as punishment for almost making Minhyuk fall down the company building stairs, which was a total accident. Arslyn had been standing in the frozen aisle for about ten minutes pondering whether to buy ice cream or actually buy what Kihyun asked her to buy. She was interrupted by a small “hello”, and she turned around to find Irene.It was a bit akward at first, but as they walked around the supermarket they gradually became closer.

Irene is older than Arslyn, but they’re both so mature that it seems there isn’t much of an age gap. Of course, Arslyn can’t stop her chidish side from making an appearence and Irene can always keep her in check. Sometimes Arslyn is suprised by how much Irene reminds her of Kihyun, exept female and definitely a lot scarier. Irene acts like a mom to Arslyn, usually giving her advice and cooking for her. Irene and Arslyn can often be seen walking around going to cooking classes together, but Irene does most of the cooking with Arslyn watching in fascination as Irene makes something actually edible. Irene and Arslyn have also released some cover videos. Out of all the comapany buidings, Arslyn is at the SM building more than any of them.

Heechul (SUPER JUNIOR)

Heechul is the senior that Arslyn is the closest to. These two idols didn't meet while doing group activities, they met and got closer while filming Knowing Brother, a Korean variety show that has Asian celebrities visit every week. Although the main cast is majorly male, Arslyn acts as the principal of the school only appearing in some episodes but always having fun segements. The two idols knew of eachother, but never got the chance to officially meet. Heechul calmed himself down a bit when first meeting, but as they became closer he revealed his psychotic self acting just as insane as he usually does. It was an unexpected relationship with how different the two are, and although Arslyn usually doesn’t like loud demanding people, she couln’t help but befriend Heechul.

She was a bit alarmed when he revealed his true colors, but managed to get used to it, and actually getting comfortable with him and his odd tendencies. Instead of viewing Heechul as a father figure, she views him more as that crazy uncle that visits once or twice a year harboring his usual weird clothing. Heechul is actually one of the only ones that manages to bring out the crazy side of Arslyn, but no matter how close they are, it never takes Arslyn off his victims list. In fact, it probably puts her at the top of the list, and Heechul doesn’t mind making fun of her usually teaming up with another cast member, Hodong. 

#Monsta X #monsta x 8th member #8th member monsta x #8th member of monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction

[thelarriefics]

ANGST FIC REC: Below you’ll find a collection of angst fics. Since some deal with heavy topics, please be sure to read the tags!

📖 Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger​ (291k)

Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can’t get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles.

📖 Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction (153k)

A Top Gun AU. 

📖 Own the Scars by @crinkle-eyed-boo (144k)

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he’s supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis’ parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

📖 Unbelievers by @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

📖 red hands by @dystopianharry (132k)

a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

📖 For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) by @greenfeelings (128k)

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

📖 got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove (124k)

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

📖 Promise in the Sky by @hazzabeeforlou ​(99k)

AU in which Harry Styles, a naïve, repressed, socially awkward Midwestern highschooler tries to navigate his fundamentalist evangelical parents and radically progressive older sister. He’s doing an okay job of this until the Tomlinson family starts attending Lakeside Baptist Church and a boy named Louis changes everything. Harry is forced to come to grips with his true self when Louis becomes more than just his best friend; but their relationship opens a can of worms and sends them on the most painful, heartbreaking journey of their young lives. They risk everything and nearly lose, and Harry learns that perhaps only one Bible verse is true: that perfect love casteth out fear.

📖 The Road Less Travelled By by @freetheankles (98k)

Louis is a widowed lumberjack, and Harry isn’t someone he needs to fall in love with. 

📖 For Reasons Wretched and Divine by @indiaalphawhiskey (94k)

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

📖 (Take Me Home) Country Roads by @a-writerwrites (86k)

a Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don’t know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

📖 Yellow by @13ways-of-looking (84k)

The city of Gotham turns blood red with a new, mysterious criminal element, a beautiful woman named the Blind Cupid. She threatens to tear the fabric of the city apart, aided by her deadly protégé, the Cat. Can Batman stop them? Will he resist the bewitching allures of the Cat? A Batman/ Catwoman AU.

📖 Chasing Empty Spaces by @domestic-harry (79k)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

📖 Far Away. by @dimpled-halo​ (57k)

Harry returns to London after five years. Stuck in the past with “what ifs” and “what might have beens”, he sees that his friends and ex (and possible love of his life) Louis have all moved on with their lives while he finds himself questioning his own life choices, past and present.

📖 The Second Hand Unwinds by @fullonlarrie (51k)

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA’s top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he’s sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend’s doorstep.

📖 Looking Through You by @allwaswell16 (41k)

Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them.

📖 Gracious Goes the Ghost of You by @haloeverlasting (25k)

Harry is a ghost who comes to visit. Louis feels like a ghost, himself. In forgiveness, they find their way back to life.

📖 We’ll Rise Up by @suddenclarityharry (18k)

Louis is a Pastor with no church and a heart filled with uncertainty. Pastor Payne is more than willing to give Louis a new place to work, but it’s Music Director Harry that helps him rebuild his faith.

📖 Escape (The Piña Colada AU) by @avocadolouie (10k)

Louis writes to escape. Harry answers to join him.

📖 A Year (and then some) by @bringmetheharry (6k)

Harry breaks and it takes a year of ups and downs for he and Louis to put themselves back together.

#angst fic rec #masterpost #thelarriefics

[amomentsescape]

an AU Michael x Reader based on the movie "Booksmart"? Michael has Amy personality and Y/N has Molly personality. But the difference is that Michael has always been in love with Y/N and he decide to declare his feelings for her in the party.

Not gonna lie, I have never actually seen the movie Booksmart...

HOWEVER, I did look into the characters a little bit to try and make this as accurate as possible. I know it isn’t perfect but I hope you like it anyhow!

Parties Are For Dummies (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Oneshot

Requested?: Yes

Warnings?: Slight swearing.

“Come on, get up!”

Michael groaned into his pillow.

“How about, no?” he sassily replied.

You threw a stuffed animal at his head, only earning another exasperated sigh.

“I told you about this party! Now get ready before I drag you out myself.”

You walked towards your closet and started to look for an outfit, not noticing the soft gaze of the boy behind you.

He let out a gentle breath of frustration. 

He loved you, and you didn’t even notice.

“Red or purple?” you asked.

You raised your arms up to show him the two tops your were choosing from. He just shrugged and rolled back over, his back facing you.

You let out an irritated sound and grabbed the water bottle off of your desk. 

You sneakily rushed over to him and dumped the water onto his head, causing him to jump into a sitting position.

“Jesus Christ! I’m up!” he practically yelled.

You giggled at him as he broke out into a small smile. He couldn’t stay mad at you.

“Was that really necessary?”

You nodded teasingly and went back to your closet, holding the shirts back up.

“It’s not my fault you passed out on my bed before we were supposed to leave. Now, red or purple?”

He let out a hum.

“How would I know? If you haven’t noticed, this whole party scene isn’t really my thing.”

You dropped the purple top to the floor.

“Red it is,” you responded, slightly disappointed. “Now, get your ass in gear and go put on the new clothes I got you.”

You turned back around to look for a pair of pants to go with your outfit, only to feel cold water being poured down your back.

You spun around and grabbed a pillow, beating Michael in the head with it.

“You, asshole!” you yelled. 

You tried to stay mad but the big grin on his face made your heart thump a little faster than normal.

“What? It’s payback!” he replied, his voice muffled by the constant onslaught of pillowy fluff. 

“God, we don’t have time for this,” you chuckled. “Go get dressed. We’re leaving in 15 minutes.”

Michael groaned as he dragged himself to the bathroom.

“You’re not changing my mind!” you said, turning back to the mirror.

You just wanted to have a good time with your best friend tonight. 

                                                         ***

“Nope, nope, nope,” Michael whispered, trying to wiggle out of your grasp.

“For crying out loud, it’s just a party. We’ve been wanting to do this for how long now?”

Michael looked around and saw all of the jocks that were in the house. He suddenly felt intimidated.

What if one of them tried to talk to you?

He became so lost in thought that he didn’t realize you had left his side until you were already out of sight.

You didn’t mean to leave him alone. For the record, you told him you would be right back, he just wasn’t paying attention.

You found yourself at the punch bowl, contemplating whether it was spiked or not.

After a few moments, you decided that it didn’t matter. You just wanted to have fun, right?

“What the hell?” you muttered to yourself.

You poured a couple glasses of the red liquid as you went to find Michael. 

You trudged around a bit, worming your way through sweaty, hormonal teens until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You smiled, thinking Michael had found you. Instead, there was some football player looking down at you. 

Great.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, his words slurring together.

He was obviously very tipsy. Was it from the punch? Who knew, honestly.

You almost told him off until you caught sight of Michael.

He was sat on the couch with some blonde chick in front of him. Her hand trailed down his shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

In that moment, something inside you snapped. You didn’t know why it upset you so much; It was a party full of drunk teenagers. This was going to happen one way or another. In fact, you thought you wanted this for him. But seeing him in that moment made you realize that you had thought wrong.

You looked back up to the sleeze bag next to you. If Michael was going to do this, then so will you.

“A dance sounds lovely,” you said to him.

You placed both glasses down onto the table next to you. You quickly grabbed the guy’s hand and pulled him towards the crowd of dancing drunks.

Michael wanted to gag. This random girl had been hitting on him for the last 10 minutes. All he wanted to do was be with you.

He tried several times to deny her, but she kept pushing. She was too drunk to understand that he wasn’t interested in her. 

However, she eventually got bored and left him alone.

But where were you?

He decided to try and find you. There was a good chance that you had gotten lost already. It was a big house and you weren’t exactly the most coordinated person.

He finally spotted you dancing in the middle of the crowd. 

Michael smiled a bit at how happy you looked, until he noticed that you weren’t alone.

His smiled immediately dropped as he realized that you were more interested in some jock than you were in him.

He turned around to leave, wanting to get as far away from this party as possible, but something made him stop.

This was your senior year. He had been in love with you for so long now, and he would be damned to leave you in the hands of some dick.

He began to make his way back towards you, his heart thudding hard in his chest.

When he finally got to you, he grabbed your hand firmly and spun you towards him. 

Your eyes flashed in surprise at seeing him. However, you would be lying if you said that you weren’t still upset.

You pulled your hand away as you tried to yell above the music and voices.

“I thought you’d be gone with that blonde bimbo already!” 

Michael’s face contorted into confusion and... sadness?

He shook his head. “You thought I liked her? (Y/N), the only reason I came to this party was for you! I don’t give a shit about anyone else here!”

You looked back in disbelief. His words made your heart flutter, but you still weren’t buying it.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear. But as you can see, I’m currently preoccupied with...” your voice trailed off.

You didn’t even know who you were dancing with.

Wow, that’s a slutty move, you thought.

Michael’s gaze switched between you and the now-pissed-off guy standing beside you.

Michael didn’t even have time to think before he slammed his fist into the guy’s face, knocking him out cold.

Your jaw dropped at your friend as you tried to take in the situation.

It didn’t help that Michael’s punch grabbed the attention of everyone else there either.

“What the hell, Michael?!” you yelled frantically.

“(Y/N)-”

“No! You can’t just do that, you idiot! This is our first party and you ruined it!”

Michael felt a pain in his chest. He wanted you to have a good time, sure. But - as selfish as it was - he didn’t want it to be with someone else.

“You know what? Fine! You can stay mad at me all you want, but I can’t wait another fucking moment without telling you that I’m in love with you!” he screamed.

You felt your face heat up as everyone around could only stare. 

He loved you?

“You, what?” you asked, your voice going quiet.

Michael ran his hands through his hair anxiously.

“I know we’re best friends, but I can’t keep lying to you anymore! I love you! But I knew you would never feel the same.” A sudden flash of guilt overcame his face. “I’ll just... go.”

He began to walk away but you yanked his arm back before he could get too far.

“Hey, Dummy!” you yelled.

He turned to look at you, only to have your lips smash against his.

His breath hitched, but he reciprocated almost immediately. His hands went to the sides of your face as he kissed back desperately.

You finally broke away as you stared into his blue eyes.

“I love you too.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fluff #michael langdon oneshot #AHS #ahs fanfiction #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fic #ahs one shot #american horror story #reader imagine #booksmart #request #michael langdon imagine #ahs x reader #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story preference

[hua-fei-hua]

Extra Notes: Music of the Moment Ch. 5

chapter can be read on ao3 or ff.net

i chose wouldn’t it be nice by the beach boys bc i liked the idea of kaminari wishing for a time when all the work was done and he n jirou could just be together lol

and also bc i see him as this ridiculous, daydreamy, almost hopeless romantic kind of guy at times, and so i can see him just sighing “wouldn’t it be nice if everything just solved itself for me”

poor sero. this chapter is just the beginning of his existence in what i like to call the “knows jack shit circle”

it is also lonely in the “knows jack shit circle” bc he is its only member

the comment from kiri abt how if they tried to pencil in sero they’d be waiting until winter break is foreshadowing

the baritones n trombones were combined into one section when i was in band, and they were jokingly called the “baribones”

less relevant, but when i was in eighth grade, i once actually walked about a mile up and down hills with a friend w/a baritone case bc the band director locked the cabinets before anyone could put their instruments away lol. i was a choir kid at the time, but anyway yeah i know how much a baritone in its case weighs. (even if most of the weight is just the case ugh)

more under the cut~

our practice rooms were very very good at muffling shit to the outside world (aka the band room), but very very bad at muffling shit to the neighbors. when i hung out in practice rooms for lunch, i could often hear the neighbors practicing very clearly, if they were practicing at all

it’s not a super important detail, and there’s only one point i can think of that would make it maybe a little bit relevant

this is the only au i will (hopefully) ever write where m*neta is even implied to exist. this was bc the whole “WHY DON’T YOU JUST TELL THEM???” plot hole needed to be fixed bc my sister is a communications major and now my default response to any situation is talking about it

however, just bc it was to fix a glaring plot hole doesn’t mean i have to like or appreciate his inclusion >:C

talking in practice rooms during will be a trend present in the fic. why? bc most of my important talks happened in practice rooms during lunch

this chapter was actually meant to be a bit of a ~montage~ of just kaminari and kirishima’s adventures in trying to confirm jirou as kaminari’s soulmate

that’s why the segments were all a little short and had timeskips between all of them

this won’t be the last montage chapter, although i will admit that this one went on longer than i expected. i considered including the homecoming pep rally as the last segment here, but decided against it in the end.

i don’t know if other bands do the band council thing or not, but we definitely do. maybe it’s a residual effect of us being considered a club

anyway, what this means is that once a week, the drum majors, “executive council” (i.e. the pres, vp, secretary, and treasurer), the section leaders, as well as the interclub council (icc) rep, a uniform manager, and three first year reps got together w/the band director every wednesday during lunch

when i was a junior, before the previous BD retired, everyone was kicked out of the band room (unless it was raining that day (cali bitch kids remember) or you personally promised the BD to be practicing veeeery very quietly) and they had their council meetings. 

when i was a senior, i was part of council for about three months as percussion rep due to some major political drama involving one of my close friends (the band president, also in percussion), her friend the vice president (who had his own can of worms backstory baggage i don’t have time to get into now), and the major struggle against the new band director to be heard and taken seriously. 

i’m serious when i say this was intense as fuck, and like i mentioned in my notes for chapter three, it’s what inspired the background subplot w/fuwa-senpai

anyway, people were just allowed in and out of the band room during those council meetings and it was a god damn mess, so i think you guys get why i based band council off the well-oiled machine i’d observed in my junior year

most of the kids in this au are learning japanese in school bc like. heritage, obviously

it’s not super uncommon, for there to be language barriers (of varying degrees) btwn kids and their parents where i come from, at least among the asian population. most kids speak varying degrees of cantonese w/varying amounts of correctness. some have their parents speak to them in the parents’ native language and the kids respond in english. some are fully bilingual, just illiterate. 

side note, i was both lucky and unlucky to be biracial. lucky, bc i have a well-educated native english speaker as one parent, and so i had an advantage going into school. i was hella privileged in learning. unlucky, bc i had no need to pick up on mandarin bc both my parents are fluent bilinguals and would speak to my sister and i in english (and to each other in mandarin)

basically, in my experience, being a first gen often means losing your parents’ native language, and that’s not something i’m going to just ignore in this fic. to a certain extent, this fic is just transforming my high school life into art. you can frankly get a very good idea of what my high school life was like by reading this fic.

anyway, basically what i’m saying here is that this is why basically all the kids are taking japanese in this au. some are in ap bc they skipped the first year as freshmen, some are in their third year (japanese 5/6) bc they started from the bottom. 

i don’t know at what point i’d seen the headcanon that kirishima was raised by a lesbian couple, but i’m super on-board w/it

idk why i decided they’d be specifically viet in this au, but i guess a bit of it would be an excuse to follow my gut feeling that kirishima would take spanish in this au, since he doesn’t have as much of a language barrier w/his parents

anyway yeah it’s not even plot relevant just a fun detail i decided to put in

they have an 8ball in their discord server in this au bc my friends and i have an 8ball in our discord server, and that 8ball predicted my entire drama around almost having a fake boyfriend in my senior year so like. yeah

we use that 8ball to make life decisions sometimes.

the bot was called NekoBot, by the way, and it also used the n! prefix like in the fic, but we recently kicked that bot out for insolence and got a new, more certifiably Cultured(tm) 8ball

i actually have a bunch of dumb discord headcanons to go with this au. they’re really dumb but man if they’re not fun

the reason i picked careless whisper specifically for kaminari to play here is not only a reference to the fic summary. 

we had a flute player in band who figured out how to play careless whisper (and later, megalovania) by ear on his flute, which inspired both the summary and bit going on in this chapter

mina shouting “FUCK yeah” is actually the first time i’ve let any of the characters swear.

i like to think that aizawa calling her out on her language implies that he knows everything that’s going on but just chooses to stay out of it

it’s like in chapter four when he clearly can tell that smth’s bothering jirou, but chooses not to press the issue and trust in her ability

i do not recommend doing that to anyone in a jirou-type situation tho. go for it in a kaminari-type situation, bc that’s just dumb teenagers being dumb teenagers, but a hands-off approach isn’t the best one in all situations imo

wow okay this was actually a lot more notes than i was expecting lol. got any reactions or further questions? send ‘em to my askbox!!

next chapter will be out next friday~

#hua's vanity #w/o you Bb #Bb notes: music of the moment #Bb notes: perfect harmony #band was wild in my senior year y'all #it was the setting for all my wildest shenanigans #and the craziest part was that i knew where things could have gone if we didn't step up and speak out from the start #bc a similar thing happened to speech when i was a freshman: we got a new speech coach #and the seniors were very wary of her and probably had more tension w/them than i realized as a freshman #that's why i spoke up. bc i was in speech. i knew what could happen if i didn't and it was what i knew to do #but i wasn't in a position of power in band. one of my friends was band pres yeah but... she was afraid of rocking the boat #things had blown up in her face in the past when she'd spoken up or rocked the boat so she always tried to solve things behind closed doors #and i respected her more than pretty much anyone else in school and so when she told me 'don't make a show out of this' i obeyed #i mean i fucking would have; the times when i did speak up (abt more trivial things) others would tell me i was doing the right thing #bc they were too afraid of trouble and of speaking out to do it themselves #and like man my dudes if someone needs a voice i WILL be there to speak for them #SILENCE IS GOLDEN BUT SPEAKING IS PRICELESS #if there is ANYTHING you ever take away from interacting with me PLEASE LET IT BE THAT #(yes i'm very passionate abt this and i will not apologize for that)