#and if Clip wins he will definitely brag about it for over a month (at least)

[crabsnpersimmons]

hi friends! with chapter 3 out and our first day at the hair salon with the boys done, i'm curious:

*the poll may determine what comes up in chapter 4 👀

[violetwolfraven]

Crossover Headcanons

((I know I have requests in my inbox but I just had to get this out of my head. Also I probably won’t be posting those requests for a while because my writer’s block is only barely starting to lift, so...))

Anyway this is gonna start off from one perspective and go to more later. Enjoy. 💜

Tw: past death, nightmares

...

So this is a... spin-off? Of the reincarnation au? An alternate timeline? A variant? Whatever it is the newsies are reincarnated and remember their past.

Also somehow most of them are going to the same college here, (I’m not going to say which one because I don’t want to research colleges right now) even if they’ve got a wide range of majors.

There’s only one dorm building even if people are only allowed to share a room with someone of the same gender.

This works out well for Elmer, because he’s pretty happy to be rooming with his boyfriend, Buttons.

But then he gets up to the floor their dorm is on and almost drops the box he’s holding.

Because it’s fuckin her. His national-level math nemesis since 11th grade. They’ve only faced off twice, the first time with her team winning and the second with his winning, but they’re each the only one who can beat the other in a math competition.

Elmer can see the shock in her eyes as she recognizes him and shouts YOU and then she’s stomping over to him aggressively enough that he’s pretty sure she wants to throw down physically.

Jack (who’s also on that floor with Davey) figures that too, and steps in front of him before she gets too close, but that girl acts like she doesn’t even notice him and shouts I WAS HALF A SECOND BEHIND YOU SOLVING THAT PROBLEM!

Elmer is kinda terrified but he defensively shoots back well I still solved it first and moves around Jack because this is his math nemesis and his fight.

The girl scowls at him for a couple more seconds then just sticks out her hand to shake, and Elmer realizes that he doesn’t actually know her name beyond the surname he’s seen on the back of her mathletes jacket. She introduces herself as Cady Heron.

Elmer Kazprzak, he responds, and Cady looks like she’s trying not to laugh, but he figures that’s probably fair, with how ‘Elmer’ was a common name in 1885 but not so much in 2003.

Jack clears his throat so Elmer introduces him but forgets that this isn’t their high school so things like oh this is Jack. He’s basically my dad. are weird.

Cady definitely thinks it’s weird but she doesn’t question it. Instead she just asks where Elmer is living, and it turns out, of course, he and Buttons are right next door to her and her roommate, Karen.

(I say Cady is living with Karen because Gretchen wanted to live with Regina and rules be damned Janis is with Damien.)

Elmer isn’t completely sure he’s not going to get murdered in his sleep but he guesses if he could handle the 1899 Newsboy Strike and World War I he can handle Cady Heron.

Meanwhile Katherine is going to Harvard so Sarah is rooming with someone she’s never met and she’s a little nervous.

And in stomps a girl who declares I’m a lesbian and if you have a problem with that tell me now so I can switch dorms.

And Sarah responds with my girlfriend out at Harvard would be pretty pissed at me if I did have a problem with that.

The girl lets her guard down, explains that she comes from a small town, and says her name is Alyssa Greene.

After that little bump, they get along good. Alyssa explains that her girlfriend, Emma, registered late and couldn’t get a dorm with who she wanted.

And Sarah’s just kinda like wait Emma as in Unruly Hearts Emma? Alyssa’s just like yeah!! I’m so proud of her!!

Sarah brags a bit about how Katherine is studying to be a journalist with a specialty in queer stories and long story short they become besties and eventually Alyssa introduces Emma for real and Sarah introduces Smalls and Sniper.

Emma and Alyssa are a bit thrown by the whole nickname thing but hey whatever now they have a Lesbian Club!

They do meet up with the boys occasionally but the Lesbian Club meets on a video call with Katherine every Saturday.

Anyway Jack meets Janis in art class and initially they kinda think each other is weird because their styles are very different but then they get in an actual conversation and get along amazingly.

Jack is definitely a fan of Janis’s philosophy of when someone hurts your friends you attack and grind your foe into the ground.

Janis tells her new bestie about Cady and Damien (and Regina, Gretchen, and Karen, though she still keeps Cady and Damien closer than the former Plastics) and she’s honestly shocked by the amount of friends Jack tells her about.

She does recognize some names, though. Romeo and Damien are both theatre majors and they’ve become friends.

But anyway Jack and Janis are like. Super good friends. Art buddies. Mlm/wlw solidarity. Protective friend pals.

Janis is pretty surprised when she introduces him to Cady and they’ve already met, and apparently oh fuck your math nemesis is Jack’s Elmer???

Jack’s just going oh fuck Elmer’s math nemesis Cady is Janis’s Cady???

Also Regina met Spot and Sarah at the gym and now they meet up with a few other people every other week to throw down like their own personal fight club.

At first Regina was just angrily trying to fight with no technique, but don’t worry, Spot and Sarah teach her.

There weren’t a ton of out gays at Northshore High, so yeah the Mean Girls crew definitely gets along with the Newsies crew out of solidarity.

Janis and at least one of the Plastics but I can’t choose which one(s) join the Lesbian Club.

Meanwhile Race is super hyped to meet Emma cause like I choreographed a dance to your song wanna see???

Emma is flattered but kinda weirded out and she mentions her friend Angie who’s a dancer too and Race is just *error 404*

Cause of course he saw the news story and knows Emma knows these 4 big Broadway stars but it just. Hasn’t connected until this moment that she like has their numbers.

He tries not to freak out too much cause he knows that’s weird but Emma eventually goes do you wanna meet her? And Race goes do I wanna meet her? She’s only my IDOL!! she’s been dancing like 20 years and she’s still got it!!

Emma calls Angie partially because she likes her new dancer friend and wants to make him happy and partially because she wants to prove to Angie that people do appreciate her zazz and despite how she was just a chorus girl until a few months ago this random boy from New York has been a fan since he was 12.

Angie can’t exactly fly over at the drop of a hat but she watches some videos on YouTube of Race dancing and like holy hell this kid is good. And his friends are too but this kid right here has zazz off the charts.

When she finds out he’s an orphan she’s lowkey can I adopt him??? but then she finds out he already has an adoptive mother and it’s Medda Larkin.

Medda Larkin who did more than a few shows with Angie when they were young but left Broadway to open her own theatre.

They fell out of touch years ago but still follow each other on Instagram and stuff.

But Angie shows Barry and Dee Dee and she’s super excited like remember Medda Larkin??? THIS IS HER ADOPTIVE KID AND HE’S AMAZING

And they watch YouTube clips of Emma’s new friends in high school shows and like wtf these kids are fuckin talented why aren’t they on Broadway???

They almost tell Emma to tell her friends to drop out of college and come straight (haha not that straight) to Broadway but Trent is like wtf no education is important.

Whatever the actors aren’t that relevant.

Sarah has a nightmare about her death one night. And with the others it’s not as big of a deal because they’re all rooming with each other, but Sarah’s roommate isn’t one of them.

She thinks Alyssa is asleep so she calls Katherine crying about how scared she was, how guilty she felt to be leaving her brothers and friends and Kath without a goodbye.

And Alyssa isn’t quite awake, but she’s awake enough that she hears Sarah whisper about how everything is just so stupid complicated. I shouldn’t be afraid of dying when I’ve done it before—when we’ve all died horribly—but I still am, Kitty. I can’t stop being afraid.

Alyssa is out of it enough that she falls back asleep, but when she wakes up she knows what she heard. That her roommate thinks she had a past life and died and implied that all her friends did.

Emma notices she’s acting weird and when she asks what’s wrong she tells her.

They both know it sounds crazy, but...

Emma tentatively points out some weird things about their friends from New York.

She’s study buddies with Race and occasionally he points something out she got wrong on her history homework. Something so small and inconsequential that it would’ve been almost impossible for him to know unless he was there and remembered from experience.

Smalls and Sniper have a habit of jumping apart if they were so much as holding hands and someone walks in on them, even though they come from a mostly accepting city with an accepting friend group.

That whole group straight up skipped history class the whole week they were learning about World War I and refused to make up the work.

They bring the half-baked theory to Janis who immediately remembers all the times she’s seen Jack draw small war-torn towns in France and dirty city streets and an outdated skyline as if seen from a rooftop, all of them too detailed to be anything but directly copied from something Jack has seen before.

But the question is if they’re drawn from a reference photo or a memory.

Cady realizes, upon hearing the theory, that Elmer and Buttons never take her up on offers to come to football games because they don’t like the noise.

More specifically, she remembers the look on her nemesis/frenemy’s face when he said he didn’t like fireworks.

Aaron notices that Davey always solves math problems by hand. He never uses a calculator unless someone reminds him it’s an option. And half the time, he defaults to using his right hand with terrible handwriting even though he’s left handed. Almost like he was raised with the whole ‘left hand devil’ thing, which doesn’t make sense because he went to a public school; not a religious one.

Damien realizes that Romeo has a habit of correcting the costume department, like he knows the period clothing for Hello, Dolly! better than they do. It annoys the hell out of them because upon some research, he is always right.

Regina notes how Spot and Sarah fight like they’re fighting for their lives in a street brawl. She knows that because she started taking karate in an attempt to win fights. She noticed months ago that her friends use technique that’s barely sustainable, like they’re just trying to stay alive until they can run or backup comes.

However all this is just fun and games, a crack theory they’re all mildly creeped out by but don’t really believe, until Gretchen finds it.

An article on the Newsboy Strike of 1899.

There’s a copy of the Newsies Banner, written by Katherine Plumber, which references strike leaders Jack Kelly and David Jacobs.

But they could write that off as just a creepy coincidence if not for the photo.

It’s the one Katherine and Darcy took that first day, which is in black and white and not the greatest quality, but clearly shows a lot of familiar faces.

A later story by this Katherine Plumber documents lives of street kids with interviews from kids with the same odd nicknames as the group they know.

Regina was the most cynical about this theory and even she can’t deny it now. There’s just too much evidence.

Especially when Karen finds Crutchie’s obituary, but Regina stops her from showing it to anyone else because that’s just too creepy.

The Mean Girls crew and Alyssa and Emma are... unsure if they should confront their friends about this, because a) this is freaky and b) the newsie gang is clearly still harboring trauma due to their deaths.

Plus, as Damien points out, being gay was illegal in 1899. Do you think they want a reminder of how they had to hide their feelings for each other back then?

Emma and Alyssa share a knowing look because they know what that’s like.

In the end Karen lets it slip when she asks Davey a question about her history homework involving World War II, mistakenly believing he was there.

Davey naturally questions her about it and she spills the entire story about how Alyssa heard Sarah’s phone call and they figured everything else out from there. She even shows him the article with the 1899 photo and the Newsies Banner.

And... shit, there���s a lot of memories behind that picture. And that’s them, over a hundred years ago, when they were kids and they weren’t all the same age like this time around.

The old Davey looks so big compared to Romeo and Elmer and god was Specs tall for a 15-year-old.

Davey didn’t even meet Smalls and Sniper in this lifetime until they were 16, but in that picture they’re only 13 and they’re so small.

A sidenote on Katherine has a picture of her in a hairstyle he hasn’t seen her in since 1917.

It’s a mixture between ptsd and nostalgia and Davey can’t decide whether to freak out or be happy.

He takes the article to Jack and tells him about how Gretchen found it and their non-reincarnated friends know.

Jack’s silently cursing the fact that he really should have been more careful with what he drew around Janis, but it’s kinda a relief that they know, honestly.

He shoots a quick text to the group chat and then turns his phone on do not disturb mode while he sits Janis down for a little chat.

He doesn’t go into graphic detail, but he does tell her an abridged version of everything. How they were basically a family and all lgbt+ in the early 20th century and how they died before their time and got a second chance.

It’s more than a little freaky for Janis, but it does explain a lot.

Such as how Jack demonstrates on a dare that he can still do some parkour because once upon a time, he used it to run from the cops.

Elmer tells Cady he’s so quick at math because he used to have to calculate change quickly and later had to help Jack and Davey come up with battle plans based on numbers vs tactics and terrain.

Regina definitely trusts Spot’s combat advice a lot more now because he was essentially a gang leader as a teenager and it has literally saved his life.

Race admits to Emma that her song made him cry because... in this lifetime he might not have had to be closeted, but in his last he was constantly worried about getting arrested or worse if people found out not just about him and his boyfriend, but his friends. His family.

Emma may or may not collaborate with him after that to write a song about how much it hurts to be closeted for your own safety and how much better it feels to be free to be who you are. Race dances in the music video and many of the other newsies make appearances but it’s mainly him and Emma. Spot and Alyssa cry when they see it. Damien does, too.

Who am I kidding everyone cries.

They get like 4 million hits on YouTube and it’s amazing.

The title is probably In the Light or something.

Also Cady, Aaron, Kevin, and Elmer form their own college level mathletes team and no one can beat them.

(Kevin’s not as close with the main group literally only because I don’t know that much about him as a character.)

(Also Stacy, Kailey, and whatever their boyfriends’ names are might be there somewhere but I don’t know them either.)

Katherine does get to meet the new kids in person eventually. And also I didn’t mention this earlier but Specs goes to Harvard too and he comes to visit too.

The power when the Lesbian Club finally gets to meet all in person? Unparalleled.

:)

[rambling-at-midnight]

Inferno: Part 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

God I love Peter Parker so much. Anyways, he’s a dork even when he’s Spiderman. This is so fluffy I’m gonna get cavities. I have so many great ideas for next chapter! Also, I lied; there’s gonna be at least 5 parts.

You’re thankful for your fans. You really are. A good majority of them are sweet, caring individuals completely appalled at the blatant lies the American government sent out as a reason for your arrest. It’s nice to see people promoting positivity.

Unfortunately, being rich and having fans can sometimes lead people to hate you for no other reasons. You’re not saying there are rich people that don’t deserve to be loathed. Of course not. And maybe you do deserve to be hated. You’ve certainly done enough questionable stuff.

But at this point scrolling through your notifications feels like playing Russian Roulette with every chamber loaded.

cap2n/merica: Hey @Y/N_Stark, just do us all a favor and turn yourself into the authorities before you start melting people again.

bigbossbitch: @Y/N_Stark is another case of gross celebrity misconduct. Yes, her jail time was wrong, but now that she’s been released she’s just another spoiled celeb kid born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She gets away with murder just like her father does because of their wealth and it’s a sign of the American government’s (1/2)

You don’t feel like finding the second part of that tweet.

givemebackmymeat: @Y/N_Stark is an ice bitch

Stacey-Toland: yeah it’s great and all that New York gets Spiderman and @Y/N_Stark , but if they really cared about people they would branch out and help people in cities with a lot more crime. New York doesn’t need the Avengers, Spiderman, AND Inferno!

just-a-dumbass: y’all Inferno is the dumbest superhero name i’ve heard in a long time @Y/N_Stark

With a sigh, you turn your phone off. The public outcry will quiet down after the official statements are released. Everyone needs some time to cool off.

The pesky bandages on your hip crinkle as you sit up. You rip them off without looking. Tony insisted that you wear them last night after Helen Cho fished the bullet out of your hip. There’s no pain this morning, and you don’t even need to check to know there’s no scar.

The temptation is too great. Maybe you’re a masochist. You grab the phone before sitting down on the toilet, determined to find at least one positive comment about you in your feed. You try Instagram instead of Twitter this time. Since your public appearance last night, comments on your last post about a year ago have been flooding in.

spideyismydaddy: hey @The-Official-Spiderman what do you think about @Y/N_Stark? She invading your territory or what?

You click on @The-Official-Spiderman. It’s got to be a spoof or fan account, right? Sure enough, the account isn’t verified. You almost swipe out of it but your eyes catch on some of the photos he’s got uploaded. Either he’s super good at photoshop, or...

Is this really Spiderman’s account?

The photos look exactly like the crime-fighting spider you’d encountered last night. He doesn’t have a recent story that you can watch, but he does have a highlight story that you click on. In the first one, he does a backflip. The second clip is of him racing a train and winning. The third one is a pretty picture of the sunset.

You rest your hand on your cheek. Before you know it, you’ve watched his entire highlight story and wasted fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet.

“Miss Stark, your father wanted me to inform you that breakfast is ready,” FRIDAY says, making you jump a little bit. At first it had been a struggle to stop talking to her. The amount of times you’d say, “FRIDAY, turn off the lights,” or “FRIDAY, what time is it?” is a little bit embarrassing. No doubt how many times she’ll startle you will be embarrassing too.

“Sure,” you grunt, throwing a MIT sweatshirt on and shoving your phone in its pocket. “Coming.”

“Morning, sweetie,” Tony says cheerfully, attempting a smile when he looks at you. “I made your favorite—waffles.”

“Great.” You try a smile yourself. “I haven’t—that’s—thanks, Dad.” You’d been about to comment that you haven’t had waffles for over a year, but that would probably bring down both your spirits.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” You take a big bite of waffle and look as innocently as you can at your father. “Just peachy.”

Tony gestures to his own hip. “No... pain? Bleeding? Scar?”

You shake your head and shrug. “Healed overnight.”

“Good.” Your dad actually fiddles with his fingers as you take another bite. “I, um... I don’t know what you want to do.”

I want to spend time with you is the first thing that crosses your mind but it sounds way too sappy and weak. You settle on a shrug. The familiar fire under your skin wavers and you scowl to bring it back to a simmer.

The next time they try to take you away, you’ll be prepared. Even if you have to take out thousands of agents. But you can’t let go of your anger for even a second.

“I have an idea,” you say after another awkward silence, struck with a great idea that would involve time with your dad but doesn’t involve actually asking for it outright. “I couldn’t keep up with all the new shows and movies that came out. Maybe we could get Disney+ and, I don’t know, watch The Mandalorian? I saw a lot of Baby Yoda memes online and it looks like a cool show.”

“That’s the new Star Wars show that came out, right?” Tony checks. “With the ugly green baby?”

“Hey! He’s not ugly!”

“Well,” he starts. You already know he’s about to suggest a bad idea. “Star Wars is probably Parker’s expertise. Considering both of us won’t know what’s going on, maybe we should call him and have him here? Just to translate the nerd stuff to the non-nerds?”

The hand holding your waffle clenches. You should have known that Tony would try to involve his precious Peter Parker so he wouldn’t have to spend time alone with you.

The waffle starts to smoke and you drop it with disgust. “I’m going to the training room.”

“Come on, Y/N—” Tony starts but you stomp off. Why won’t you understand that he just wants you to make a friend? He’s not trying to replace you with Peter—he’s trying to get you to replace Tony, at least a little bit, with Peter.

Tony eyes the waffle you hadn’t finished. A clear outline of fingers is burnt onto its surface.

You stalk through the compound angrily, halfway expecting a team member to jump out at you. You were the last one to be released, after all. Then again, they’re all under house arrest or on the run. But what about the ones that had sided with Tony? “Where are they?” You’d love to run drills with Nat or talk with Rhodey.

“Tony cleared his schedule for the next week,” FRIDAY informs you. “He wanted this to be a more relaxed homecoming so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed before more enthusiastic well-wishers arrived.”

“He cleared out his schedule for everyone except Peter fuckin’ Parker,” you mutter. Jesus, how important is this kid to Tony? First he never stops talking about him to you, takes him to pick you up from jail, and now he’s banned everyone but him from the compound?

For lack of sparring partners, you decide that lifting weights and running on the treadmill wouldn’t be too bad. Thankfully your muscles didn’t atrophy too much while you were locked up, though you rarely mustered the energy for exercises. You left the heat simmering under your skin at all hours. Judging by how many times you woke up to singed blankets, you started doing it in your sleep too.

No doubt due to the Extremis, you can lift every weight in the weight room—together. It’s too easy, so you move to the treadmill.

Your feet pound on the track. With every step, another thought bombards your mind: Peter Parker smiling, how you spent three months in the cage before they consented to giving you a plant, the cell smaller than your whole bed, you never even saw the sun for months, Tony coming to brag about Peter fucking Parker—

Only when your foot hits the ground do you realize that you’re running hot. “Shit,” you mutter, reaching for the ‘off’ button. Your whole body is glowing bright red and instead of turning off, the keypad melts at your touch just like how your shoes had melted off and how the track is hardly more than a melted pile of goo around your red-hot feet. The poor treadmill gurgles unhappily and its gears stop churning.

“Miss Stark, you are not wearing your fireproof clothes,” FRIDAY points out.

“Yeah, I got that, FRI,” you respond through gritted teeth, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You need to calm down before your clothes burst into flame.

The red hue to your skin fades slightly.

You need to get your excess anger out. And you know exactly how to do that.

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

Some guy swings a metal bar into your face. Something definitely cracks but heals within seconds, so quickly you almost don’t register the pain. It doesn’t slow you down, anyway, and you grab the man’s arm before he can whack you again with the bar. You slam his head against the side of a brick building and he slumps to the ground. If he doesn’t wake up in thirty seconds, you’ve either given him brain damage or flat-out killed him. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Before you can turn around, your back burns. Not the comforting burn of your anger, but a stinging burn that takes your breath away.

You turn around slowly. The man’s partner backs away, his hands in the air as a scared expression takes over his face.

You reach behind you. Your hand hits something hard that makes the pain in your back worse. It’s the handle of a knife, you presume. With a wince, you pull it out of your back. The blade is dark with blood that you already feel dripping down your back. The wound will knit together, scab, scar, and fade. A body’s week- or month-long process of healing occurring in seconds.

You’re not thinking when you brandish the weapon, but thankfully a weird thwip sound interrupts you. The man’s raised hands find themselves stuck against a wall by a white, sticky substance.

“Shit!” a vaguely familiar voice hisses after a second thwip. “Oh Jesus! You killed him!”

You turn around. The man you’d knocked against the wall still hasn’t moved, but there’s a dark puddle spreading around his head. Spider-man takes a quick look at him, shakes his head, and looks at you.

“And you got stabbed!” Sounding sort of like a smothering grandmother, he spins you around and lifts up your shirt. “Oh, shit, that’s a lot of blood...”

“The wound’s probably closed by now,” you mutter. The ground sort of leans away from your feet and strong arms wrap around your waist as something swipes at your back.

“I don’t see an opening.” He gingerly takes the knife from your hand places it on the ground. Then you find that the ground is underneath your butt. Spider-man’s mask swims in your vision.

“I killed him?” you ask blearily. Shit. You can’t afford to be murdering people not two days after being released from prison. They’ll send you back. They’ll lock you in that cage! Is Spider-man here with them? You smack his hands away. He’s here to get you, he’s here to take you—

“Whoa, whoa, let’s calm down a little bit,” Spidey says beseechingly. “You don’t have any wounds, but you lost a lot of blood.”

“It’ll replenish soon,” you mutter. After some sugar. Sustenance. That would help. As if he’d heard your thoughts, Spidey waves something in front of you. It takes a hot second for your eyes to focus on it, but when you realize it’s a churro your mouth waters.

“I did not mean for this to go this way,” he mutters. Almost shyly, he thrusts it at you, saying, “Here. I got it for you.”

You’re not one to refuse free food. If he’s poisoned it, chances are the poison won’t affect you much, anyway. You’ll take your chances.

You wolf the churro down in record time. Now that you’re feeling less woozy, knots are starting to form in your stomach. Spider-man, a superhero largely known for helping people out, just witnessed you accidentally murdering someone.

And you just murdered someone. You need to take that knife and burn it in an alley far from here and toss it in the trash.

Heat rises in your cheeks, but it’s not anger-heat that can be used as a weapon or self-defense. Letting Spider-man see you like that is embarrassing.

“Are you feeling better? I can get you another churro, if you’d like, or maybe a burrito, I think I have enough cash for that...” Spider-man reaches into his back pocket, but maybe his tone is too light, maybe he’s not being nice and he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of safety.

Quick as a whip, you take the knife and hold it in Spider-man’s direction. The superhero falls back, his voice cracking as he exclaims, “Hey! Whoa! Please don’t stick me with that! Do you have any idea the potential ramifications of mixing blood? Not that I think you have STDs or something, but still, I could still get alien bacteria in me! The Extremis is still in your system, right? Well, of course it is! I really don’t need that in me because it might make me blow up! Please—”

You blink. He sounds like a kid. Like someone your age. He’s in no way your father’s age. And he’s definitely not a threat. “Relax.” You close your fist around the knife and channel your anger into that extremity. It melts within seconds and drips to the ground. You shake your hand of the last bit of molten metal and allow the flesh to return to regular temperature. “You’re not going to hurt me for killing him?” Your heart still races in his presence, but it’s starting to calm down.

“I saw everything.” Spider-man stands up awkwardly, especially for someone that can do backflips and crawl up walls, and points up to the top of a nearby skyscraper. “They attacked you. It was self-defense. Besides, these two killed a bystander in a shootout recently. I’m not saying they deserved it, because that would be really mean to say, but I’m also not saying that you’re a terrible person. You know?”

“You certainly talk a lot,” you comment. It’s amusing.

“Do you want me to stop talking?” Spider-man rubs his neck. “I know it can be annoying. My friends—”

You shrug. “Why were you watching?”

“Well, last night you got shot, right? And I see you out again fighting crime. So I’m like, ‘Holy crap, is she in pain, she’s probably not all right, maybe she’s getting mugged because she slept on the streets because I didn’t help her when she got shot in the hip and then you slammed that dude against the wall and I saw the other dude stab you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “It was my fault, anyway. If I was wearing my suit the knife wouldn’t have gotten so deep in. It probably wouldn’t have gotten in at all.”

“Why are you just wearing a MIT sweatshirt and sweatpants, by the way?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t be bothered to change.”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to now. There’s a big hole in your sweatshirt and your whole back is bloody.”

“Shit,” you mutter. “But that’ll lead people back to... him.” You shoot a glance at the dead man. “And he’s going to snitch on me.” You shoot a nervous glance at Spider-man. You have no idea how he’ll react to you considering a tied-up would-be mugger.

Spider-man shakes his head. “People will see my webs. They’ll blame me.”

“So we’ll both be blamed,” you say grimly. “Great.”

“Yeah, The Daily Bugle is going to have a field day. But we should get out of here.” Spider-man puts a hand on the small of your back (right where you’d been stabbed) and gently applies just enough pressure to get you moving. Shocked at the gentlemanly gesture, you take a few steps before remembering your bloodstained clothes. “I’ll get you new ones,” Spider-man says grimly when you voice your concern. “But then I won’t be able to get you a burrito.”

The sweet concern is touching. “It’s really okay,” you say. If you had your credit card, or any cash on you, you’d buy the poor boy as many burritos as he wanted. “You gave me your churro. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I wanted to make a good impression!” His voice cracks again.

“Really?” you shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye. “Why?”

“I don’t know a lot of other teenaged superheroes,” he shrugs. “I thought we could be friends.”

See, Dad? You think viciously. I can make friends without your interference. I’ve found a friend loads better than Peter Parker. “Get me a change of clothes and we’ll talk.”

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

“A radioactive spider, huh?”

“Yeah. And I know all about the Extremis. Killian.”

“Yeah. He murdered my mother and then tried to blow me up but my body didn’t reject the serum.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Your mother’s death is like a bruise; tender when you poke at it but livable with. “What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re both dead.” Spider-man gives you a half-shrug. “I live with my aunt. My uncle used to live with us until he died.”

“Shit, dude.” You lay down on the skyscraper, hesitant, and fold your hands together over your stomach clad in the I <3 NEW YORK sweatshirt Spider-man bought you. Goosebumps rise on your exposed legs, courtesy of the NEW YORK sleep shorts he’d barely had enough money to buy at that sleazy mart. What would you want someone to say to you?

“Like you said. I’ve dealt.” Spider-man lies down next to you, watching the sun set.

“I guess we kinda have to be friends, right?” You say after a brief pause of silence. “We got all the heavy stuff out of the way.”

“Sweet!” His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and types a quick text to someone. You presume his aunt, considering that’s the only family he has. Or one of his friends.

You can hear the smile in his voice and it makes a smile spread across your face too. For the first time you feel the wind whipping and realize you’re not angry. You call the heat back immediately, both to warm yourself and to protect yourself. What if—?

“Can I do a livestream?” Spider-man props himself up on his elbow and holds up his phone, which displays his Instagram page.

“Sure?”

Spider-man rolls up his suit to just under his nose and starts recording a video. You notice he lowers his voice slightly, probably to make himself seem more mature, and roll your eyes. “Hey guys! You’ll never believe who I’m with right now.”

Immediately comments start to roll in and people start sending emojis, mainly hearts.

You wave at the camera before unlocking your phone and following him on Instagram, now that you know it is actually him. A minute ago you’d gotten the notification he’d followed you, so you figured it was only fair.

Spider-man starts to do a run-down of his day, leaving out the man you’d killed. “Then I gave Inferno here a churro and we went shopping because we’re besties.” He nudges you with his arm. “No, but seriously, we had to burn her clothes. I can’t believe that dude threw her in the dumpster. It was disgusting.”

You wrinkle your nose at the camera, actually enjoying playing along. It does make you wonder exactly how much he says on his social media is a cover-up of some sinister stuff. He seems perfectly fine at lying about why you needed new clothes.

“Okay, now I’ll answer some questions...” Spider-man browses the flood of questions. “Okay, well, you guys know I can’t just tell you my name. No, I haven’t seen Iron Man recently. No, I’m not an Avenger. Still. And no, I do not have a girlfriend... Why is everyone asking if Inferno is—no, she’s not!” His voice cracks again and you glance curiously at him, tucking your wild hair behind your ear. The wind is whipping it everywhere.

“What?”

Spider-man just waves a hand at you. “I can’t tell you guys my schedule, either, because the bad guys will take advantage of it. You guys know that. Sheesh. Okay, well, since you guys are being jealous and immature, I’m going to log off now. Bye!”

“Let me guess,” you say sarcastically. “Mostly female fans, huh?”

“It’ll be such a shock when they all find out I’m gay,” Spider-man jokes. At least, you think he’s kidding. After a beat, he clarifies. “I’m not. By the way.”

You shrug and transfer your gaze back to the skyline. The sky is starting to turn orange and pink. “I wouldn’t really care if you were.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Hey, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What?”

“You obviously know who I am. Everyone does.” Not to sound conceited or anything, Y/N, good going... “But the only thing I know about you is that your parents and uncle are dead and you got your powers from a radioactive spider.”

So what, you’re curious about who’s under the mask. Sue you.

“My middle name is Benjamin,” Spidey suggests. “But I’m not going to tell you the rest of it.”

“So I should refer to you as Benjamin?” You don’t take your eyes off the horizon, not wanting to seem or sound pushy.

“Please don’t.” You giggle as he pretends to gag. “You can call me Spidey. I know Spider-man is a long title. As long as I get to call you Y/N instead of Inferno.”

“Sure thing... Benjamin.”

“I should not have told you that,” Spidey sighs. “Um, what else... I, uh, go to high school.”

You nod. “I should still be in high school.”

“You graduated high school when you were fifteen and went to MIT, same as your dad, for two years, same as your dad, and graduated college summa cum laude...”

“Also same as my dad.” You sigh.

“Sorry. I’m just... kind of a fan.”

A weird warm feeling spreads in your stomach, but it’s not Extremis-heat. “That’s okay.”

“And then you were arrested.” Spidey’s tone turns a little bit dark. “You turned eighteen in the Raft.”

“Happy birthday to me,” you sigh.

“It was shitty what happened to you.”

“I’m out now.”

“Still,” he persists. “It sucks I can’t make it better.”

You laugh. “What would you do? We only became friends maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

Spidey sighs. “I know. It just sucks, right? All these powers and we still can barely make a difference in the world.”

You sit up halfway, propped up by your arm. Desperate to make the subject lighter, you say, “Speaking of powers. I know you’re sticky and all. What else?”

“Fast and strong.” Spidey shrugs. “Not much else.”

“Wanna race?”

Inferno Taglist:

@paullrud @eridanuswave @loveissupernatural @moistpotatobear @oh-annaa

Peter Parker x Reader Taglist:

@iconicbabesss

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight

[sandalwoodhusbands]

for him.

Lucas posts music covers on youtube and there’s a guy who keeps sending him the most original photos he’s ever seen.

(also on ao3) // previous

                                                          I

A year and a half later

Way Down We Go // Kaleo (Cover) – by turnupthelucas

lucasxlallemant21:

Oh my god so fucking goooood! Your voice keeps getting better and better <3

  + turnupthelucas: thank you!

elio0oliverr:

that wink at the end??? ended the world’s problems

lallemantstan:

my wig is on the floor, my skin is clean and my ears cry with glee

harrysdimple:

Mr. Lucas Lallemant really out there changing the music industry uh

ghostlypitch:

When are we going to get original content?

  + turnupthelucas: soon ;)

     + lustiel: OHMYF GOD CHRISTIE ALSFNEGEJK

     + malectrash: JE SUIS DEAD

     (View other 5097 responses)      

slipperysnow:

we need more videos with lucas playing the guitar. so hot

Lucas locks his phone, smiling to himself.

It all started as a joke, as most things do. In the beginning, it had just been him and Yann, a viral shitty 15second recording and a guitar.

Yann had been messing around with some strumming patterns on Lucas’ bed, playing some famous tunes at random.

Lucas had been unaware of the phone against the headboard filming him spin around the room with his desk chair, so when he heard the first notes of the acoustic version of Break up with your girlfriend, I’m bored, he didn’t hesitate to belt out the lyrics like there was no tomorrow.

Yann had posted it on his Instagram story without Lucas knowing.

When Lucas logged on his own Instagram account a couple hours later, he felt very confused at the rising number of followers and odd requests to ‘post more videos’ he got, to say the least.

He hadn’t really thought about his voice before that day, but he had to admit the clip sounded pretty fucking good. So he said to himself, why not? - worst case scenario, the video is a complete flop and his friends mock him for a week.

Needless to say, it was the furthest thing from a flop. In the span of a month his first ‘official’ video hit 700k views on YouTube, and so many people begged for more covers in the comment section that he filmed another one. And then another one. And then, well - then he never really stopped.

Which brings him to this day. With over 300k followers on Instagram and more than a couple of millions views on YouTube, he is one of the most popular artists in France at the moment.

He has viewers all over the globe, people send him letters (and the occasional gift) almost daily, and he's sometimes recognized when he goes out for drinks with the gang.

He’s living his best life, basically.

“Lucas” Yann groans from the sit next to him. “Can you please concentrate on the screen?”

Lucas lifts his head up and looks at the tv screen just in time to witness a geared up man appear out of nowhere, shooting his character in the head.

“Oops.”

The game’s menu glares at him in colors of red and black as Yann chucks the controller at his stomach half heartedly.

Lucas grins at him sheepishly, scratching his head.

“C’mon, restart the game. No distractions this time, I promise.”

His best friend raises an eyebrow.

“If I catch you looking at your phone even once,” Lucas raises his hands in mock surrender. “I swear I will choke you with my own hands. And not in the kinky way.”

Lucas snorts, putting his phone down on the table. He readjusts himself on the sofa, back pressed against the cushions, and sits with his feet tucked under his legs.

“Okay, I’m ready.” He clasps his hands together. “Press play.”

The sound of Yann pressing the controller’s button and Lucas’ phone going off intertwine in time.

“Really?” Yann complains as he pauses the game.

Lucas shrugs apologetically, bending forwards to check his phone.

He turned every channel - related notifications off after almost going crazy one afternoon with the constant pinging, so now his phone only notifies him when a friends texts him.

If they got interrupted by Basile pestering him again about getting them into that party next Friday, Lucas is going to kill him.

He runs the pad of his index finger over the back of his phone, unlocking it. His eyebrows shoot up in confusion when an Instagram notification pops up.

Who communicates through direct messages with their friends when you can use whatsapp?

He slides down the notifications bar, frowning when he reads the username.

“Uh”

“Is it Baz?” Yann questions from the kitchen, sticking his head in the door. “If he’s asking about the party again, tell him to go buy the tickets himself.”

“Eh, not exactly?” Lucas trails off, his confused tone making it sound like a question.

Yann walks back into the room with a sandwich in his hand and a bottle of water. Despite his confusion, Lucas gives him an unimpressed look.

Yann shrugs.

“Who is it, then?”

Lucas proceeds to show him the screen in silence.

@srodulv shared a picture with you

“Okay.” Yann looks at Lucas with an equally puzzled expression. “Who the hell is this ‘sroduluv’ person, or whatever?”

“I… don't know.”

“But you're following them.” Yann states.

“Yes.”

“And they sent you a picture.”

“Apparently?” Lucas asks in a high pitched voice, throwing his hands up in the air. “Shit, I don't know!”

That's all it takes for Yann to burst out laughing, falling on the couch and rolling over himself as he tries to control his chuckles.

“What's so funny?” Lucas whines.

“Bet you 10 bucks it’s another dick pic.” Yann laughs, looking at Lucas pointedly.

Lucas blushes profusely at the reminder, tucking his chin on his neck. It’s been known to happen, alright. He can't help that he looks like a twink most of the time - Yann says it's the hair. Arthur argues that it's his mouth.

Anyway.

“That happened once.”   Lucas retorts. “Maybe twice.”

Yann looks at him with a face that has whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy written all over it. So maybe it's happened more times than he’d care to admit.

“So? Open it!” Yann urges Lucas, nudging him when the latter just stays still.

Lucas braces himself and taps on the notification.

He opens the picture.

“Wait,” He blurts out. “What?”

“Is it a dick pic?” Yann asks curiously. When Lucas only blinks, he gasps. “Is it worse?”

Lucas blinks again, half expecting to see the picture before his eyes turn into an actual dick pic. When he opens his eyes again, the picture is still there, looking exactly like it did seconds ago.

He passes the phone wordlessly to Yann.

“What the- is that a fucking dog lying on an inflatable popsicle pool toy?” Yann laughs incredulously. “Holy shit. That’s what I call a plot twist.”

“Who the hell is this person and why are they sending me dog pics? What is going on?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Yann says distractedly, still looking at the screen in wonder. “but you have to marry them.”

“What the fuck, Yann?”

“They sent you a picture of a bulldog laying around a pool, Lucas. That's the epitome of true romance.”

“We don't know who it is. We don't even know if it’s a dude.” Lucas hisses. “For all we know, they could be a serial killer trying to lure handsome young men with pictures of insanely cute puppies.”

“It is a cute puppy.” Yann concedes. “But you can, and call me crazy here, maybe look at their profile? Just a suggestion, though.”

Lucas withdraws his phone from between Yann’s hands immediately, tapping on this mysterious person’s profile with no hesitation.

And, holy shit. He definitely remembers now, alright.

It’s the guy . The one with the soft hair and sparkling eyes.

His eyes land on a recent picture - it’s in black and white. He’s supporting his head with his hand as he looks at the lenses with captivating eyes. He has a bit of stubble, and the black sweater he’s wearing makes him look so cozy, and Lucas wants to die.

“I definitely need to marry him.” Lucas murmurs dazzled, his heart going fast against his ribcage, as he scrolls through the guy’s posts. His lips actually tingle with how bad he wants to brush his mouth against those cheekbones.

Lucas hadn't even noticed he had followed him back.

His eyes find his bio again, and he's surprised it's still the same one from a year ago. Model. Then, another detail catches his eye, and his breath hitches. Eliott.

Eliott.

That’s his name. It fits him perfectly, Lucas thinks.

“I’m guessing he’s hot, then?” Yann snorts from the other side of the couch. Lucas had kind of forgotten he was still there, to be honest.

He looks up from his phone.

“He’s gorgeous.”

Yann smirks with knowing eyes.

“Are you going to answer him?” He asks innocently. As if he doesn't know already, the bastard.

Lucas doesn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, he looks back at his phone, fingers looming over the keyboard as he thinks of a good answer.

In the end, he settles with a simple text.

@lucallemant

hi? haha

He waits for a beat, then two, and tries not to feel disappointed when he doesn't get a text back.

He’s probably busy, he tells himself, or maybe he's sleeping? Lucas doesn't even know where he's from. He might be living in fucking California, for all he knows - although he really hopes that's not the case.

Noting his distress, Yann takes the phone from his grip and turns the volume off, tossing it to the other couch. He puts the controller in Lucas’ hands and squeezes his shoulder.

“C’mon. It's best friend quality time.” Yann gives him a gentle smile. “I demand attention now.”

Lucas bursts into a laugh - just like that, he forgets all about his phone and possible unanswered texts.

***

The hours fly by, and before he knows it, Lucas is saying goodbye to a freshly - beaten, grumpy Yann.

“I totally kicked your ass.” Lucas brags as they walk to the door.

“I totally let you win.” Yann fires back.

“You wish.” Lucas laughs before pulling Yann into a half-hug, patting him on the back. “See you tomorrow, dude.”

“Tomorrow.” Yann salutes and flashes him a smile, closing the door.

Lucas shakes his head, still smiling, and makes his way to the couch. His bed for the last few months, actually. It's a long story.

He sprawls himself on the sofa with his hands under his head, sighing. He should go shower.

He smells himself discreetly, pleased when he doesn't get the need to fill his nostrils with soap. He’ll shower tomorrow, then.

He’s starting to relax when his eyes land on his phone, still discarded on the other couch, and he swears. He'd completely forgotten about it.

With his heart in his throat, he pushes himself forward as he reaches for the phone.

It’s just a guy. I didn't even really know of his existence before today. He tells himself like a mantra. So what if he doesn't answer back? There's plenty more guys out there. Although maybe not as beautiful, or mesmerizing, or - okay, not helping.

He breaths through his nose before unlocking his phone.

A little sound leaves his mouth.

@srodulv

Hello :)

Okay. So they're really doing this, then. Cool. Totally cool. He's so not freaking out right now.

He types out an answer.

@lucallemantj

what's up with the dog pic?

He locks the phone again, holding it against his chest as he wills his heart to calm down. This time, he doesn't have to wait a second before his phone pings again.

@srodulv

With all the messages you must get, I though I should try to make an impression haha

Did it work?

So the guy isn't afraid to double text, then? Interesting.

@lucallemant

it definitely left an impression alright

@srodulv

A good one, I hope?

Lucas grins. He turns off the lights and gets himself comfortable on the couch, getting rid of the t-shirt he’s wearing.

It’s July, and he’s in the heart of Paris. Also, despite the good views this apartment might have, the air system would do with some fixing.

@lucallemant

sure :)

@srodulv

I’m Eliott

@lucallemant

i know

@srodulv

?

@lucallemant

it says on your profile

@srodulv

That makes sense haha

Lucas flushes. He can't believe he went with the ‘I know’ trope. He groans internally.

Did he fuck up?

@lucallemant

i’m lucas

When Eliott doesn't answer back, Lucas feels his heart fall to the floor. He definitely fucked up.

Fuck. This is why he never gets a date. He's so fucking awkward, God-

@srodulv

I know ;)

Lucas sighs with relief. He didn't fuck up yet, then.

He even sent him a winky face. That's good, right?

@lucallemant

i liked it, btw. the picture

@srodulv

I knew you would

Lucas bites his bottom lip, grinning from ear to ear.

@lucallemant

you did? what else do you know, then?

@srodulv

Hmmm…

Lucas grins even harder. This sounds so much like flirting. Are they flirting? Lucas is trying to, at least.

@srodulv

I know that you are very nice. You like singing, too. And you like guys who send you ridiculous pictures with dogs and pool toys, now.

@lucallemant

a bit pretentious with the last one

@srodulv

Am I wrong?

Lucas blushes. Not at all. He's not going to tell him that yet, though.

@lucallemant

wait you've seen my videos?

@srodulv

A couple of them

If Eliott notices the change of subject, he doesn't comment on it. Lucas is thankful.

@lucallemant

and what did you think?

@srodulv

Oh they're awful

Just kidding. I think you have an amazing voice, actually

@lucallemant

omg thank u

Should he do it?

Fuck it, he's going to do it.

@lucallemant

i’m kinda blushing over here haha

Double texting his crush. Yann would be proud.

@srodulv

Aww shame I can't see it. Where’s over here?

@lucallemant

Paris (:

@srodulv

Cool! I live there, too

Lucas tries not to freak out at the newfound information. He’s not doing a very good job, but he's certainly trying.

His fingers hoover over the keyboard, deciding whether he should type the text or not.

What he wants to say is, maybe we could go out for a drink, then?

What he types in instead, is

@lucallemant

weird we haven't bumped into each other yet lol

@srodulv

Well I’m not in Paris right now, actually

@lucallemant

where are you then??

@srodulv

London, for a job :) I’m staying here for a couple more weeks

What are you studying?

@lucallemant

that must be so cool!! i’ve never been to london, but i want to go so badly

and i’m studying biophysics. sounds boring, i know. and it takes so much time off my daily life i barely have time to post covers. thank god it's summer now

@srodulv

I would love to take you there sometime, then. If you want to

I want to. He wants to scream at his phone. I really fucking want to.

He resists the need to chuck his phone out the window in pure ecstatic.

@srodulv

And that sounds so interesting! Maybe one day you can give me one or two classes on the topic? Damn, you really have everything

@lucallemant

everything? i don't think so lol

@srodulv

You are super cute and nice. You have a killer voice. And now you are really fucking clever, too? That, sir, is having everything as far as I'm concerned

@lucallemant

i’m certainly not cute enough to be a model. Unlike *others*

and who are u calling sir omg I’m 19, not 90

@srodulv

You're a baby :o you would make the cutest baby model

@lucallemant

how old are u??

@srodulv

21

@lucallemant

what the fuck are you calling me baby for omg you’re literally two years older

@srodulv

Nope, sorry. You’re a baby

A BABY, Lucas

Lucas feels like his heart is going to burst. He doesn’t think he’s smiled for so long in years – maybe ever.

Eliott is doing things to his head. It’s not just that he is, admittedly, really attractive – Lucas won’t lie, it doesn’t hurt -, he’s also charming as hell. He’s making Lucas feel so special right now, and Lucas loves it.

He glances at the clock on his phone from the corner of his eye, mouth hanging open when his brain registers the time.

It's 3 a.m.

Have they really been talking for the past 2 hours?

@lucallemant

it’s 3 a.m. already, what?? how did this happen?

i should go to bed :/

@srodulv

You’re leaving me already? :(

@lucallemant

nooo i will be back, promise

i just have to get up really early tomorrow morning

@srodulv

Promise?

Lucas smiles. He’s so cute.

@lucallemant

i promise

@srodulv

Okay, then :)

Sleep well, Lucas ♡

@lucallemant

goodnight eliott

He debates with himself for a momet before making up his mind. Eliott did it first anyway, technically.

@lucallemant

♡

He locks his phone and leaves it on the table. Rolling himself over, he exhales, hiding his grin against the makeshift pillow.

Sleep comes to him fast, glimpses of smokey grey eyes and bright smiles painting his dreams with vivid colors.

When he wakes up, the sun coming through the big windows shines on his skin comfortably. He feels warm all over with the memories of last night, his dreams still present in his mind.

And when he sees Eliott’s new post, the caption //way down we go// glaring at him through the screen, he convinces himself it’s just a coincidence - despite having posted a cover of the same song less than 24 hours ago, and Eliott admitted he’d seen some of his videos. It’s a coincidence .

Nonetheless, when his friends ask if he forgot grumpy Lucas at home for the 4th time that morning, he just flips them off with a soaring heart.

He's still smiling.

[waitwehadhomework]

Came For The Sweet Melody, Stayed For Her (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

As a well bred pure blood, Draco is required to be able to play a musical instrument, both gracefully and efficiently. As a Malfoy however, Draco is required to be able to play at least five. As Draco, he can play the equivalent of none, ha.

Before the war, Draco’s main goal in life was to please his parents, more specifically his father. During the war, Draco’s main goal in life was to stay alive. Now though, the war is over, he is alive, his parents are alive, their ideals are, hmm well, not so much. Not that he’s complaining though, he likes the way things are right now. Both his mother and father have given him free reign on how to live his own life and he rather hopes it stays that way. So what if he can’t play a few measly instruments? There are more important things, like Quidditch.

Yes, Quidditch. This year, much to his satisfaction, he’s been made captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Along with keeping up with his mandatory classes he’s also been spending a lot of time whipping his team into shape. Right now, Slytherin is in the lead for the House Cup and he will keep it that way, he rather thinks everyone has had enough with Gryffindor always winning. It will definitely be quite gratifying when the Great Hall is all draped with green and silver at the end of year feast. That would teach those pesky lions.

Today, Draco is out on the pitch alone having already dismissed his team an hour prior in favour of going through statistics and strategies by himself. He’s got about four days until the match against Hufflepuff and he’s determined to drive them straight into the ground. He’s not worried or anything seeing as they’re just, well, Hufflepuffs, but he’s not stupid enough to let his guard down. This year Hufflepuff have formed quite a formidable team and are not to be taken lightly. Seeing as they’ve already beaten Ravenclaw his point has been already been proven.

After another hour Draco’s sure he’s got everything thing in check so he lands his broom and heads for the showers. Hufflepuff might as well just admit defeat.

He’s still going through plays in his head as he makes his way to the Slytherin dorms when an unfamiliar sound distracts him midway. It’s definitely music and he takes a minute to puzzle over why he’s hearing music in the middle of the hallways. The notes are somehow soothing and a little sad at the same time and Draco finds himself slightly mesmerized by it. Piano, he decides. It’s a piano, but who’s playing it, and where? He debates with himself for a bit. Should he investigate or leave it be?

His feet are already carrying him to the source before he’s even made a solid decision and his mind is already trying to conjure up an image of who the pianist might be. Unsurprisingly, he comes up with nothing.

He stops just outside of what he knows what used to be the old Charms classroom from about a decade ago (maybe even longer). Who would want to play in a drafty old place such as that? The notes begin to pick up the pace and Draco takes a moment to listen. It’s kind of nice, how the sounds all blend together. Whoever this is is obviously talented, and he can’t help but feel a slight pang of envy. There was actually a time when he was interested in learning how to play, but soon lost interest when he discovered he lacked most of the skill set. He wasn’t a very patient child after all.

The pianos tune had begun to slow down to a gentle melody when Draco realized that he was basically just standing outside the old Charms classroom probably looking like an idiot. Cautiously glancing around, he saw that there was no one in sight so he carefully nudged the door open bit by bit. 

What caught his attention first was the room itself. It was barely recognizable from what it once used to be. The space was bright and cozy with a small fireplace. There was an assortment of different instruments lying around on tables or propped against the wall and he realized that this was an actual club. Since when had there been a music club? 

It took him a second to find what he was looking for, but right at the end of the music room, tucked away in a corner, was a simple black piano and with it, playing with her back turned towards him, was the pianist. She was swaying a little as she played, her hair swishing back and forth slightly (it looks kinda soft too). He gets a glimpse of her face a little as she hits a few keys that are a bit further away from her and suddenly his feet are rooted to the spot. Because oh, he knows her. She’s in most of his classes. The quiet girl who doesn’t usually talk to anyone but his eyes can’t help but follow around anyways. The one who shows no real interest in people but seems to have a strange weakness for animals. The one who always seems to be reading something but it’s never a school book. The one who he was partnered with once in Potions and she didn’t treat him any differently when she saw the mark on his arm. The one who Draco might have day dreamed about on one or five occasions and oh no oh no oh no. When did this happen? He rather thinks he’d be the first to notice when he has a crush.

.

.

He has a ....... crush.

Somehow, it’s not as bad as he thought it would be, but to find out like this is sort of humiliating. He makes a mental note to make sure that Pansy never finds out. He’ll never hear the end of it if she does.

You seem oblivious to the new company as you play, the melody once again gains pace as your fingers dance faster and faster. Draco is entranced both by the music and you as he watches on, out of your line of sight. He just had to fall for the quiet, artsy type, didn’t he. After all the bragging about getting a wealthy beautiful well connected girl, this is just embarrassing. Ah but, you are beautiful, he knows for a fact that you have guys come to confess their supposed feelings for you on a regular basis. He can’t help but hate them, they don’t see what he sees. They don’t see this.

“You’ve been standing there for a while now, can I help you with something?” The music stopped abruptly as you turned around without warning. Draco startled so badly he hit his elbow on the edge of a desk.

You stared on in disinterest as you looked at him expectantly while he nursed his elbow cursing silently. “I heard a piano..” He began lamely.

You nodded slowly. “I was playing a piano, what a coincidence.”

He glared at you. “As I was saying, I heard a piano and I was curious about where it was coming from, so here I am.”

“And you stayed for most of the song?”

 “As it so happens I-”

“Did you like it?” You cut him off.

“I- huh?”

“The song, did you like it?” You repeated.

“It was...... nice” Draco admitted haltingly. He was glad he did when your expression softened. Then immediately regretted it when you smiled. He’s melting. Shit, why is he melting?

“I wrote it myself, you know. It took a whole month, I’m quite proud of it.” You weren’t looking at him, instead gathering your music sheets and neatly clipping them together. “You smell like grass and dirt by the way, it’s how I knew you were standing behind me.” You added wrinkling your nose to emphasize.

“I was on the pitch for three plus hours, if you must know. One shower wasn’t going to suffice.” Draco tried not to sound offended but ended up sounding haughty instead. You were unfazed, cocking an eyebrow in apparent interest.

“Three plus hours? Are you that scared you’ll lose?” You teased.

Draco scowled. “According to the Guide of Flying to Win, an average Quidditch practice should last at least six hours.” He huffed indignantly.

Your jaw dropped involuntarily. “Six? For real? That’s...... kinda rough.”

“For average people. I happen to be above average.”

“And that’s just cocky.”

“It’s self-confidence”

“It’s cocky”

“Stop saying that!”

“Cocky” You folded your arms and gave him another smile, catching him off guard. “For a cold ice prince, you’re surprisingly easy to rile up.”

“.....shut up”

“Now that’s plain rude”

“Are you always this infuriating?”

“As a matter of fact, yes”

It’s been a while since he’s had a migraine, he must confess. Just what is it with this girl? He was actually trying to make nice conversation for once but this is steadily going down hill for him. Falling for people really sucks.

“I’m done here for today, so if you’re planning to stay and, uh, ‘play’ something, feel free to.” You stood up from the bench, swinging your bag onto your shoulder and giving him a pointed look. “Piano’s all yours.”

“I’m not here to play, like I said, I heard music, I followed it, then I found an annoying introvert, end of story.” He cut in front of you getting to the door first and was about to leave you standing in the dust when he saw the weird look on your face. “What?”

You kept blinking at him for a moment but then seemed to regain focus as your expression morphed into curiosity. “How d’you know I’m an introvert?”

Draco scoffed. “Oh come on, you always sit at the back in classes, you avoid big crowds and tend to walk along deserted corridors, you eat lunch alone out by the lake, even just now you were in here playing music alone, you prefer animals to actual humans, I even remember when-” Draco clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. What the hell? Did he actually blurt all that out? Oh my god, there is no way he’s looking at your face now. He fixes his eyes on a point just above your head but he can still see your mouth gaping open in his peripheral vision. Why did this have to happen to him? “I’m going to go back to my dorm now, forget this meeting ever happened. Have a nice-”

“Wait.” You instinctively reached out and grabbed onto Draco’s sleeve. It worried him how much he didn’t mind it. You began tapping your fingers nervously as if steeling yourself for something. “You- um. When’s your match?”

“Huh?”

“Eloquent, Malfoy. Your match, when is it?”

Draco blinked. “Saturday?”

“Perfect” You let go of his arm to fiddle with the strap of your bag. “Uh, I- I’ll go and cheer for your team.”

Draco blinked again. “You’ll cheer for Slytherin” He repeated slowly.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, that’s what I said”

“But you’re a Gryffindor.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“So.....why?”

At this you granted him another genuine smile and Draco somehow felt truly blessed. “A few reasons, actually. First of all, I’ve kind of just given you a free show so I’d like one in return. Second of all, most of Gryffindor is already betting on Hufflepuff and I like to be diverse. Last of all...” You started to look nervous again. “I....mighthaveathingforthecaptain.” You finished in a rush.

It took a whole minute for Draco’s brain to process that last bit of information.

“You what?” He asked dumbfounded.

“You know, I’ve just exhausted my last bit of Gryffindor courage so I’m going to go and die from embarrassment right about now. Good luck with the game.” You were about to make a beeline for it but Draco grabbed onto your wrist just in time. “Hoooooold it”

You exhaled in exasperation.“What now? Look, I’m seriously not in the mood to be made fun of right now. But you can try tomorrow if you like.” Despite your words you sounded genuinely upset and his heart clenched a little his grip on your arm going a bit tighter. 

“When I win the match, go out with me.”

“Huh?”

He smirked. “Eloquent, (L/N). The match,  when I win it go out with me.” 

You gaped at him for a moment then a smirk slowly formed on your own face. “Okay first of all, when you win? That is definitely called cocky. Second, I have a lot of money riding on you Mister.”

Suddenly feeling bold he reached for your hand and cradled it gently in his own taking note of your rapid blush. He couldn’t help feeling a little possessive. He did this. He put that blush there. 

“So, is that a yes?”

“Hmm” You pretended to consider. “If you win”

He squeezed your hands with affection he didn’t know he had. “I’ll win.”

You returned the pressure. “I know.” You replied simply.

To whatever gods are listening, please never, ever let Pansy hear about this.

For Anon

[thegrandbunny]

KSI vs. Logan Paul II fight: How two YouTube sensations are taking on the boxing world

For better or worse as it pertains to the world of professional boxing, a pair of world-renown internet personalities will trade punches in a fight that's all but guaranteed to draw equal measures of attention and derision from those loyal to the sweet science. 

KSI vs. Logan Paul

With a combined following of over 40 million subscribers on YouTube, Logan Paul and Olajide "JJ" Olatunji (better known as KSI) have each looked at Saturday's six-round cruiserweight bout in Los Angeles (9 p.m. ET, DAZN) as an opportunity to settle a grudge and launch the winner closer to his dream of becoming the biggest entertainer in the world. 

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The sport of boxing, meanwhile, has traded a portion of its soul in exchange for renting the fame and attention of the social media superstars in hopes of financial gain, which has for so long been a combat sports tradition (see pro-wrestler CM Punk's UFC career) that it would be hypocritical to complain. 

Only in the carnival world of the fight game could a professional event involving celebrity amateurs take over top billing as a virtual pay-per-view main event in 2019 -- and force actual professionals to want to be part of it. That's what will take place at the Staples Center when this Matchroom Sport-promoted card will feature super middleweight titleholder Billy Joe Saunders and welterweight champion Devin Haney on the undercard. 

So how exactly did we get here? 

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KSI, a 26-year-old native of London who has also dabbled in both gaming and hip hop, chose to settle a grudge with fellow British YouTube Joe Weller in a 2017 amateur boxing match that drew 1.6 million live viewers and 21 million in the first day alone on YouTube. Following his third-round TKO win, KSI called out Paul, the 24-year-old from Westlake, Ohio. 

Paul, an aspiring actor who has drawn plenty of controversy for the content of his YouTube clips, claimed the feud never became personal until the press conference ahead of their August 2018 amateur bout in Manchester, England, when KSI heckled him on a personal issue the two had agreed would be off the record publicly. 

Their six-round bout headlined a sold-out card at Manchester Arena comprising of fellow YouTube stars, including a match between the younger brothers of the main eventers. Most surprising about the majority draw (57-57 twice, 58-57 for KSI) between Paul and KSI was how much it got onto the radar of mainstream boxing after promoter Eddie Hearn reluctantly took part. 

Priced competitively at $10, the PPV was also a huge smash and did just short of the reported 1.1 million buys that the Canelo Alvarez-Gennady Golovkin middleweight title rematch did the following month. Maybe even more important as to how we got to Saturday, the fighters also showed a great amount of respect for the sport with a performance that looked like anything but the kind of tough man contest or celebrity boxing shown previously on American television. 

"We absolutely did shock the world," Paul told CBS Sports' "State of Combat" podcast last month. "When you hear a YouTuber fight is going to be taking place, you think it's going to be some kind of circus pony and horse act, but we literally trained for six months straight, two times a day, and came out and looked like an actual fighter."

For the rematch, both fighters agreed to do it the right way, which means under professional terms. The headgear has been taken off. Both fighters will wear 10-ounce gloves and be subject to the same drug testing and medical screening by the California State Athletic Commission as fighters like Haney and Saunders.  

The initial reaction within the boxing world when the fight was announced was split. 

"I'm getting it from both sides and a lot of people think this is ridiculous because they have trained all of their lives to get to this point and we just skipped and have gone straight to the top point," KSI told CBS Sports last week. "I understand that."

For everything the fighters have done to act the part of professionals to gain respect from the boxing regime (and make their version of celebrity fighting look anything but amateur), they have done just as much to ruin said goodwill. 

KSI mocked Paul's dead dog during the initial press conference (streamed live on DAZN) to announce the fight. Paul countered by bringing his mother out to "confirm" that KSI was lacking key male genitalia before both devolved into hand gestures more appropriate in a middle school locker room. The last straw for boxing itself seemed to be when both bragged in recent weeks about knocking out pro fighters in sparring. 

Getting out of handsome the shit I am seeing and reading these YouTubers say about professional boxing," former junior middleweight champion Liam Smith wrote on social media. "Have you fight, then fight a proper boxer, otherwise take your money, your big viewers and f--- off. Making a show of our sport what people have dedicated there lives for." 

Some just haven't been able to get past the idea of supporting a public figure like Paul who nearly had his YouTube channel deleted in early 2018 following an outcry over his insensitivity toward suicide victims when he uploaded a vlog in Japan showing a recently deceased corpse hanging from a tree. 

"There is definitely a perception of Logan Paul when you hear the name and aren't subscribed to any of my content," Paul said. "I definitely play the villain online except in this fight, I think it's safe to say KSI is also a villain. This is not a villain and hero story. This is two characters who are larger than life with egos growing out of their body and it's going to be a day of reckoning."

DAZN, the all-sports streaming app which has spent hundreds of millions to disrupt the boxing market by signing big stars and announcing it has "killed PPV," believes broadcasting the fight will be a big boon to subscription. In all reality, it probably will, especially considering DAZN's affordable entry of $19.99 for a single month. 

Both fighters have revealed talks about future fights on DAZN provided Saturday's rematch does well. Paul, who was an accomplished amateur wrestler, is also hoping the attention he gets leads to his dream of fighting in the UFC. 

Yet despite all of the circus nature surrounding the fight, both aren't certain their careers can survive a loss on a stage this big. It's part of the reason why both have trained at such an extreme level.

"My whole career [is at stake] essentially because everything has come to this point," KSI said. "If I lose this, I'm going to be a laughing piece for years and years and maybe for the rest of my life. I'm going to have to see memes of me getting knocked down or out and I'm going to have to see countless videos of people tormenting me. It's not like a normal boxing fight where you fight and win or that's it and nothing else really happens. It's constant reminding of what happened. 

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"With this fight, I want to use it to push my music career and YouTube career. It just allows me to push to a new level. That's why I spent hundreds of thousands to make sure I'm in the best position to beat Logan Paul."

It may come as no surprise that both fighters believe they won the first meeting and each has guaranteed a knockout (or in Paul's case, "murder") in the rematch. So who wins? 

Paul established himself as the more credible boxer last August but gave KSI respect for rallying by turning the bout into more of a brawl. This time both have improved their craft considerably yet the removal of headgear likely means this celebrity slugfest comes down to who can land the biggest punch first. 

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"Imagine two villains with the biggest egos in the world going head to head where their first match was a tie," Paul said. "This is the Tyson Fury-Deontay Wilder II, this is that fight. We are going to go f---ing ham and cheese and I'm going to hurt this man badly. It's going to be f---ing biblical."