#rolling in my brain like an old-school screensaver for like a year

[rowanyx]

POV: you keep thinking about Aabria mentioning Laerryn's all-purpose tool turning into a +2 mace, reskinned as a giant wrench, at 18:40 in this video

[tinytonysnark]

Hi Nisha love, Stevetony for #40 (Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh) in the 50 wordless ways to say I love you prompt list if you're so inspired? <3

40. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh. 2.1K words, stevetony, fluff, tw: Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting

six

The first thought Steve ever has about Tony is, he looks sad.

He’s making his way into the school by himself, cause he’s grown now — his Ma’s car is still at the drop-off where he can see her still blowing kisses at him through the window, but who’s gonna know — when his eyes land on them. 

There’s a man standing in front of a boy who looks smaller than Steve does, something he didn’t even know was possible — and the boy looks sad, shoulders hunched in and staring at the ground while the man seems to be scolding him, like his Ma does sometimes when he gets into a fight with the boys down the road. 

But unlike Steve, the boy doesn’t stare back and let it be known that those boys had it coming for talking like that with his chest puffed up because he’s mad — and not at all because he’s pulling in big gulps of air. 

Steve can’t see what the man’s face must be like since his back is to him but he imagines it must be angry and that just makes him angry  cause the man seems like a big old bully and Steve hates bullies.

If the man wasn’t a grown up Steve might have just gone over there to tug the boy away and yell at the man about maybe picking on somebody his own size, but he promised his Ma he wouldn’t get into trouble — well, not on the first day at least. 

So instead, he sticks his tongue out at the man, blowing a raspberry at him that he doesn’t hear.

But the boy does. 

He looks, eyes darting up and around the man to stare at Steve who must have a silly look on his face because the boy looks a little shocked and his ears go red but there’s a smile, there and gone before he quickly looks back down at his feet. 

Steve decides then and there that this boy is going to be his friend and he waits for him, the man leaving with a dismissive wave as he walks over to his very shiny car. 

The boy watches him leave before making his way over to Steve, shoulders still hunched but not staring at the pavement anymore. “Hi. You - you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Course I did,” Steve says with a shrug. “You and me are gonna be friends. I’m Steve Rogers,” he says, sticking his hand out for a shake. 

The boy stares at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it with sweaty hands, “I’m Tony Stark and I - I really want to be your friend.”

“Well good, cause we’re going to be best friends,” Steve says confidently, dragging Tony through the front doors. “Come on, we can’t be late on our first day.”

[continue on AO3] or

***

twelve

“I’m just sayin’ that if you don’t come over for blueberry pie after Ma specifically baked it with you in mind, she’s gonna throw a fit,” Steve tells him, feet swinging under him because these benches were so high. 

Not because he’s short. 

It’s not. 

Tony’s hands are fidgeting, his fingernails plucking at the skin of his nail beds and Steve doesn’t even think about it when he reaches over to pry them apart. 

Tony just moves on to biting at the skin on his bottom lip. “Howard will be really mad if I miss dinner. He says the people coming over could really make or break the the company and he wants to make a good impression.”

His laugh is derisive when he tells Steve, “We have to be the picture perfect family complete with the great businessman but who’s also a loving father, the doting wife and mother with me staring as the golden son. What could possibly go wrong?”

Steve’s face must have morphed into the strange expression he does whenever Tony mentions anything about his home life because when he looks up from the plate of fries he’s not eating he gives a snort of laughter which only makes him embarrassed, covering his mouth like that would force it back in. 

“Shut up, you didn’t hear that,” Tony says, cheeks going pink. 

“Hear what?” Steve grins, swiping a handful of fries.

“Hey!”

“What? You’re gonna come over to eat my food so now I’m stealing yours,” Steve tells him. “Listen, you’re coming over today. Ma can be scary when she wants to be and not even your dad can stop her.”

Tony goes back to chewing on his lip. 

“Hey, trust me,” Steve says, grabbing at Tony’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tony looks down at their hands before looking right at Steve. “Okay.”

It doesn’t occur to him until much, much later that he and Tony held hands all through lunch and neither one had said anything. 

***

fourteen

They’re sitting in Math class — and why Tony is even in this class confuses Steve considering how smart he is — when he realises Tony isn’t paying attention to a single thing Mr.Vanko is saying. 

He’s staring at his phone, hidden behind his open textbook and he’s taking a selfie that Steve is just going to assume he’s sending to Rhodes because —

Because the other option is assuming he’s gonna send it to Stone who is a senior and all around jerk and Steve kinda wants to bash his head in whenever he sees the douche hanging around Tony and — well, Tony seems to enjoy Stone’s attention but there’s something not right about that guy and Steve —

Steve is not biased. He isn’t.

He makes a face at the camera when Tony angles the phone again and Tony doesn’t even notice until he looks at the picture.

He stifles a laugh into his hand but Mr. Vanko’s hearing is scary good and he always seems to have it out for Tony anyway so he turns away from the chalkboard to glare at where Tony sits. 

“Something funny, Mr. Stark?’

“No, no, just that you wrote out the equation wrong,” Tony says, shutting his book, his phone wedged between the pages.

“I doubt it,” Mr. Vanko sneers before looking at the board then scowling when he realises Tony is right. 

Steve tries not to roll his eyes because of course Tony is right. 

When he checks his messages later he sees that Tony had sent him the picture, with Tony front and centre but the perspective makes it look like Steve is popping right up from his head with a goofy look on his face.

He makes it his screensaver because really — who’s even going to know?

***

seventeen

Steve says the only reason Tony tries out for cheerleading is to be a rebel and to effectively drive Steve insane. 

Tony tells him that he does it so he can stay in shape since now he has to keep with Steve’s insane growth spurth over the past year and so he can be flexible and Steve — well, Steve tries not to go completely red at the implication in Tony’s tone. 

For all the years they’ve been friends, for all the dancing around they did about how they felt for each other — this, this is still new and real and Steve is completely terrified of messing this up. 

Losing Tony - that’s not even something his brain can comprehend. 

But when he shows up to practice, already making his way over to where the cheerleaders are to say hello and maybe steal a kiss, he thinks that Tony is trying to put him in an early grave because he’s standing there wearing the cheer uniform just —

The crop top and the skirt are fitted so well.  

For some reason, Steve’s brain latches onto the fact that Tony’s belly button is out.

He’s an innie. 

Steve must look an absolute fool right now because the cheerleaders burst into giggles around him, Tony included, who walks up to him and sweet jesus -

He shaved his legs and Steve thinks maybe there’s glittery body oil on them because there’s no way —

“Hi, handsome,” Tony smiles up at him. “You’ve got a real dumb look on your face so I’m assuming you like the uniform.”

Steve tries to say something back but his mouth just feels bone dry at the moment and he has to clear his throat to choke out a simple, “Yeah, baby. I really, really do.”

Tony kisses him, hard and fast -they’re lucky their teeth didn’t clack together - before pushing him off to the field. “Go on number 29! I can’t cheer for you if you’re terrible.”

“Thanks for that,” he says before hauling Tony in to kiss him once more, deeper and leaving him dazed before he runs back to his team. 

He gets a pom-pom thrown at him.

***

twenty-two

There’s a Taylor Swift song blasting from the speakers to commemorate Tony’s birthday but Steve — Steve can’t find Tony anywhere in this strange house he got off-campus that Steve is nearly certain is haunted because why else would it be so cheap it practically a robbery. 

Rhodes had mentioned to check the workshop but that had been the first place he looked anyway and he’s gone through the whole house at this point.

He’s standing by the kitchen before it comes to him and he’s off like a shot up the stairs, nearly bowling people over in his haste. 

He gets to Tony’s room, places the bag on the table and climbs through the windowsill when he spots him, sitting cross-legged on the roof. “Tony?”

The surprise on Tony’s face honestly makes the 4 hour long journey entirely worth it. 

“S-Steve? Ohmygod, Steve!” He yells, jumping up to crash into him and they nearly go skidding off the roof.

“Why don’t we head back in -”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony interrupts, “Let’s just sit out here.”

Steve isn’t really one to deny Tony anything, let alone on his birthday and definitely not when he’s beaming like that. 

He tugs Steve down, his back to Steve’s chest. “I - I got worried when you didn’t call. Thought maybe you forgot.”

Steve frowns, “Forgot? Baby, in these last 16 years I have never not once forgotten the most important date on my calendar and I ain’t gonna start now.”

He brings Tony’s hands up to him and places a kiss on the palm, “There was a slight hold up. Just, wait here.”

“There’s only one exit.”

“You say that like you haven’t rolled off a roof to prove a point before,” Steve tells him, reaching through the window to snatch the bag before coming back to sit in front of Tony. 

“Courtesy of the best bakery in New York,” Steve tells him, holding out the cupcake. “Bucky’s kitchen.”

He lights the candle he brought with him and sticks it in the middle. “Make a wish, Tones.”

Tony stares at him with a look so full of love with the flickering of the flame reflecting in his eyes that all the air rushes out of Steve’s lungs.

He blows out the candle before then promptly taking it out and smears the cupcake into Steve’s face that frosting goes up his nose. 

Tony laughs so hard when Steve just stares at him that he nearly does roll off the roof.

Tony makes it up to him by licking up all the frosting though. 

***

twenty-seven

Steve’s hands can’t stop shaking. 

He can’t believe that after months and months of planning, they’re finally here. 

That in just a few short minutes, he’s gonna get to call Tony his husband.

The doors open and Steve thinks his heart might have just stopped as he watches Tony walk towards him, resplendent in his tux and he just knows that the camera is recording his slack jawed expression because Tony is grinning at him as he makes his way down the aisle.

When they’re declared husbands, Steve kisses that grin right off his face and the camera catches their stupefied expressions. 

***

thirty

Tony drops the blanket, yelling out, “Peek-A-Boo!” 

Peter, completely amused, claps his tiny little hands from inside the crib. 

“The betrayal I feel right now is overwhelming,” Steve calls from the door of the nursery. “This is my favourite game.”

He crouches down next to Tony, both hiding behind the blanket before dropping it again, making silly faces. 

“Peek-A-Boo!”

Peter’s shriek of laughter can be heard all through the house.

[jefferoni-quotes]

Stalling Expulsion

Hey, gems! This is my day 13 of @hamiltonholidaycalendar ! I’m super excited and really proud of this. Sorry if the endings a bit rushed, I ran out of time,,,

Rated: Teen Audiences

TW: Mentions of violence, drugs, death

-

Whistled tones whipped down the halls of the large country boarding school, as wind teased the maroon common room curtains through extravagant glass windows. Crumpled currant toned bed drapes lined the circular boys dormitory, and the posts hung bed curtains which were open and crinkled. Clothes lay strewn across the old hickory wood floors, a mix of old socks, pyjama pants and unwanted shoes. The whole school had gathered in the great hall for breakfast, all but four. They were huddled in the dormitory bathroom, slinking around waiting for first class.

The eldest being sixteen years old, tall and broad, yet far from the most responsible. The youngest was a lanky French boy, who had recently become fifteen. The other two were also fifteen, but one not far off his sweetest sixteen. None of which were very responsible when it came to fun. Smarts, well, you may suppose they contained some sort of brain-cell. Although it appeared to bounce around their head like a DVD screensaver. You may even conclude, that the four shared a brain-cell, taking single turns on it like small children sharing a piano.

The oldest of them all was the one whistling, he was tweeting a soft tune, one that seems to be without meaning or purpose, but instead one you may subconsciously commit yourself to when bored.

Smallest of them, a boy who had his fifteenth a simple month before, tightened his ponytail and swiped a sniffle from his nose. Perhaps skipping breakfast in favour of hanging around like a gang of uneducated delinquents wasn't their best plan, but at the very least they had learned not to do it again. Not that he ever planned to admit his wrong doing.

One boy, who bore a curled ponytail that hung low, sat on a sink, his back against the wall and his feet in the porcelain bowl of it. He piped up with a skip in his voice, "why did we skip morning meal again?" He inquired in his distinct North-Carolinian accent, as his stomach growled angrily at him. He was missing out on his wake up food of three slices of buttered toast and a pile of breakfast potatoes and his body was not overjoyed.

"Because we don't want to be around Jefferson, Jackie," the smallest replied, sinking down. Jackie was not the boys birth name, but instead a curious nickname gifted to him by his closest of friends. The boy who has spoken had his back pressed against the wall, and he crossed his legs as he sat.

"You know," the French boy started, "I don't really see the problem you all 'ave with Thomas," he shrugged and continued leaning against a stall.

The whistling abruptly came to a close, and all heads turned to look at him. "Dude, he's horrible," the eldest started, "like, do you see the way he acts around Alex? He treats him like some sort of dirty scum he found on the bottom of his polished boots."

"The reason he hates me is even worse! Just because I don't have rich parents to go crawling back to for Christmas. He acts like I'm a dirty spot that he doesn't want to touch. Like... Like I'm food at the bottom of the sink, ya know!" Alexander explained, gesticulating as he did so. John, the student who had been nicknamed 'Jackie', leapt from his resting place in the washing basin and patted Alexander on the back gently in a friendly attempt to calm him down. "Sorry for yelling, Laf... It's just... He bugs me so much."

Lafayette shrugged his shoulders, his wine red blazer - part of his uniform forming creases as he did. "I mean, he's targeting you because you're an orphan, non?" Alexander nodded as a silent agreement and response, "well, 'e doesn't know that I am too."

"I completely forgot about that, Laf!" The broad-shouldered, tall boy examined a little too loudly. He found himself being bombarded by rushed hushing. "Sorry, guys," he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. "Stop apologising, 'Ercules, we know you mean no 'arm," he assured and patted Hercules' shoulder.

"If I meant no harm, then why am I here?" Hercules sighed and shrunk into himself. The other three went quiet, they couldn't answer.

The boarding school was technically called, 'Fredrick's School for Troubled Teens and Youngsters,' but everyone just called it, 'School for Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks.'

Everyone who attended had been removed from public school for one preposterous thing or another. An assortment, ranging from fights to skipping school to just becoming a general nuisance.

Hercules Mulligan had been previously expelled from three schools, for fighting three people and hospitalising two of them. His reputation was ruthless and cutthroat, not afraid to start an attack at any moment. However, he was simply a big softy.

Alexander Hamilton had been ostracised from his school for arguing with the professor, who promptly frog-marched him to the head master, to whom he fought against once more. He was told to leave and not come back after referring to his head master as, "a pompous fool, detecting the frivolous minds of easy moldable youngsters to bend them to his will."

John Laurens was excommunicated from Church, and from his very Catholic school when they discovered his homosexuality. His father had disowned him from home and sent him off to the 'School for Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks,' in the hopes that it would, "return him to his Godly roots and strip him of his male desires for other men." His father, Henry Laurens had accepted the concept that sending him to a school where he would spend 99% of his time with guys and had imagined that it would 'fix' his brain into lusting over women.

And then there was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Mortier, Marquis de Lafayette. His exclusion was a momentous occasion. His head mistress had discovered the acute, shimmering pocket knife in his satchel, after demanding a look as another child had accused him of threatening him with said weapon. The child had ridiculed his younger brother who had sadly passed away just mere weeks before. So yes, maybe he should've been thrown out of school for that. He goes back and forth, contemplating if what he did was incredibly illegal or, in fact, the right thing to do.

The four knew fine well why the other people were tossed from school, however, no one else knew anything about no one. Asking why another person was attending the boarding fortress was distinctly taboo. Like a horrid, violent invasion of protected privacy. Only if the student felt astonishingly close to you, and trusted you with their life and prized possession would they ever confine in you the reason they attended Fredrick's.

Another point, everyone came from privileged backgrounds, that were somehow ruined. Lafayette had rich parents before they died, and then he had a rich uncle. Then he was rich. John’s parents had piles of money, and then they disowned him. Alexander was fairly middle class, and then their debt skyrocketed when his father abandoned him and his mother passed in his arms. And then there was Hercules. The other three spoke much more articulated than him. He just simply couldn’t. He wasn’t from a bad family, but they most certainly weren’t the most educated they could be.

"Listen, Herc," Alexander inexorably spoke up, offering comfort, "we're all here for one reason or another! I called my professor a sithering idiot, and them the head master a pompous fool, John's gay and Laf, hell, Lafayette threatened someone's life. Lets be honest, we all deserve to be here," he peered up at Laurens, who had retaken his position of roosting on the sink, "apart from Jackie, obviously."

John defended himself and chortled. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Before I had to listen to homophobic slurs all day, now, I can simply be a homo every hour."

Hercules' solid frown tweaked, and he turned to laughter. "Okay, okay, fair enough," He lifted his arms up before slumping them down, "you got me."

"Yeah we did," Lafayette nudged Hercules harshly, which earned him a shove back.

-

His toast lay burnt and uneaten, and half a sausage rolled around his plate depressingly. A metal fork was lazily tossed by his tray, and the red paper napkin was scrunched up on his plate. His seat was barren now, as was the one across from him.

Reticent nattering echoed all over the spiral staircase as two boys clambered upwards towards their shared dorm. Their room was home to eight boys, all of which they both hated, except for each other and one pupil, a young male Aaron Burr from New Jersey and Thomas supposed that Lafayette wasn’t too awful.

Thomas pushed the oak dormitory door open with a dig. He went on speaking, but was silenced by his friend flapping his hand in front of his face. "James-"

"Shush! Can't you hear that?" James spoke, "there's people here..."

Muffled exclamations voiced themselves from behind the bathroom gateway. Thomas crept over and pressed his ear up to the carved antique door as every ounce of his sixteen year old attention span focusesd in on eavesdropping.

There was a blast of flat laughter that exploded from the room, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are they saying?” James breathed serenely as he watched Thomas run his fingers over the door handle.

“Quiet, Jemmy,” Thomas instructed in a low voice, “they’re talking now.”

A despicably mocking articulation voiced itself from beyond the door. “Oh yes, I mustn’t! For I shall mess us my sheep’s wool hair! No! Do not touch that! It was sent to me from a Gucci store from my father!” It was in a false Southern accent.

“Holy crap, Laf! I don’t like how much that sounds like him!” The familiar boisterous tones of Hercules Mulligan exploded out the cracks in the door. “Okay, okay, John your shot.”

He heard the rambunctious crackling of knuckles, and a clearing of throats. “Hello, y’all! Rootin’ tootin’! I’m from the fucking South where the grass grows green and I’m better than y’all! Because I’m Jefferson, and I hate you if you don’t have a rich father!”

James, who had been tuned in to the harmful conversations past the door, soared upwards towards him. “Tommy, don’t-“ he muttered harshly. James had been friends with Thomas since the very beginning, he had been there to witness every hardship and every tantalising moment where the world stopped spinning. He was by the teens side throughout each adversity, and would comfort his best friend without exception.

Yet Thomas didn’t listen. He shoved the door open unceremoniously, the sheer force blowing a gust towards the bed drapes. His stance remained strong and rigid as four pairs of brown and hazel sprinkled eyes darted towards him. With the pupils that burned into his skull, from both in front of him, and James who had settled behind him, Thomas composed himself. He ran a hand through his hair before taking it upon himself to stride back to his bed.

His lips remained stuck together as if to be two birds of a single feather. Alexander looks at his friends, and they rise from their resting places, stiff joints cracking like grandmas getting up from their nap in an armchair. Their stomachs rumble hungrily, screaming for nutrients, but they push past it to ignore it. James looks back at his accomplice, who is rummaging through a antiquated, walnut duffle-bag. He can see Thomas’ look of determination as he pulls his hand from the storage unit and wanders back to the bathroom, past the gang who was previously been loitering in the room. In his hand, is a egg-shell painted cardboard packet of sorts, and a rectangular glass lighter. The lighter is black as a cold winters night, and Thomas carries these into the bathroom with him.

“Thomas!” James exclaimed as he spotted the two items. One of the many reasons Thomas was at the boarding school. The bathroom door slammed closed and the all too familiar sound of a clicking lighter.

The four friends glance at each other, sharing a mutual moment of what the hell is happening, as James pounds on the oak door. “Thomas, I swear to god, open the door. I won’t let you do this again!”

“What’s going on?” Alexander hissed from the corner of his mouth. His dashing attempt to be inaudibly failed, as a result of his naturally vociferous voice it failed. Madison’s head rotated to face the not-so-fantastic four with a choleric grimace.

Lafayette opened his mouth to begin explaining, yet no words escaped. Only a brief swept of breath as he fidgeted with his own fingers, bending them in ways that really shouldn’t be possible.

“Why were you talking about him?” James spoke softly, as if the delinquents were toddlers who needed to be lulled off into slumber.

Alexander shifted on his heels. Why this small student was so intimidating fascinated him. James was always a perpetually timid youngster. Someone who sat at the very back of the class, head constantly bent down over his work, hunched and tired. Yet now, his eyes glimmered with rage and every inch of his body shook with unsheathed emotional torment.

“We-“ Alexander started with confidence, but trailed off quickly into inaudible - protecting himself - mumbling.

James rattles his knuckles off the door again. "I won't let you get expelled from another school!" He exhaled and fiddled with the handle. "Just, open the door... We can talk about this." He grovelled desperately. The door handle moved, and Thomas deliberated from behind the gateway. As the wood cracked open, James spread into a grin.

Thomas exhaled smoke downwards, blowing it down to the very depths of hell. "What?"

"You're smoking," John observed with a light shudder. He planted himself on Alexanders bed, tugging at the wrinkled sheets and grasping for the cream pillow, for the scarlet cover of the cushion had been stripped from it, and thrown somewhere across the room, it had been missing for days. Alex theorised that Thomas had disposed of it out the window, or in a garbage can in the main courtyard. Either way, Alexander and the students residing within that dormitory were lucky that a staff member hadn't inspected their room just yet. If it was found that articles of bedding had been cascaded like dirty wash paper then a worthy punishment would be awarded.

“Am I?!” Thomas took the lot cigarette away from his lips and glared at it. His eyes narrowed, “am I really!?”

“Yo, there’s no need to talk to him like that!” Hercules piped up with a stare. “He didn’t do nothin’ to you,” he spat.

Thomas rolled his eyes and took another quick puff of the cigarette before disposing of it in a sink, and running the cold water tap. “Yeah, he said nothing sure.

“Stop,” Alexander insisted, beginning to rise. He observes as Thomas struts into the dorm and throws his cigarettes packet and lighter onto his bed, before dropping down on James'.

Lafayette hastily crept over to beside Thomas and sighed. "My apologies, Thomas," he confessed, "it was wrong of us to... Eh.... Talk bad about you." He stumbled over his words, a bit like a newborn calf taking its first wobbly steps.

"I'm like, 99.99% sure smoking really breaks school guidelines," Hercules chimed in, twittering away in the congregated background.

"Yeah? Why else do you think I'm here? Because I want to be?" Thomas jeered, messing with his hair absentmindedly.

"Well, because your family bathes in pots of melted gold and dines on silver platters served by their monkey butler," Alexander prompted immediately, the words sliding off his tongue like venom before he could halt them.

Thomas and James scoffed in unison. "I'm here because I was expelled for drug use," the jaws fell to the old floors, "weed, mostly. Over the counter painkillers and anti depressants. That sort of stuff, ya know?" He shrugged, so nonchalantly.

“Drugs?!” John exclaimed in utter shock. “How did you even get a hold of them?!”

“Well,” Thomas gridlocked in his tracks, hitting the breaks on his brain, “why am I telling you this?” He sneered at himself, fanning his face in his own stupidity.

“Because... you want someone else to trust?” James mumbled, “other than me...”

Thomas’ face fell and he grit his teeth in annoyance as he came to terms with James’ unsettling words. He ran a tattered hand through his mop of sheep's wool. He remained mute and simply made a random hand gesture.

“James,” Hercules breathed and was quiet for one of the first time ever. Or ever since the others had met him, “why’d you get sent here? What’s the deal?” They all gasped, the taboo had been broken, and Hercules graced his eyes around the room, his pupils widening with terror. “Wait, no! I didn’t- it’s... it’s just, you don’t seem like the person to be sent to Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks school.”

Madison blinked rapidly in thought. “No, no, it’s fine...” he took a large inhale, “I was bullied a lot... and one day I just... flipped. I attacked them when they followed me to class through the halls. The kid got away with a slap on the wrist and I was expelled. Then sent here...”

“Yeah, just after I was expelled, James came after me. Missed me that much?” Thomas chortled, stretching his arms and for just a moment, his arms and head placement made him look vaguely like a cactus in the dry Arizona sun.

“Not really, class was much quieter. I did lose my only protection though, because someone decided to get high on marijuana in the boys bathroom!” James really emphasised each syllable of the word, ‘someone.’

Thomas frowned lamentably. His sighs echoed around the room. “In fairness!” He stopped, “I actually can’t justify it. I was just being stupid and impulsive okay?”

Alexander cackled away loudly in the back before taking enough initiative to muffle it with his hand.

“Oh you can’t laugh, ‘amilton! You swore your professor out!” Lafayette teased with a snicker and Hercules let out a soft, ‘ohhh!’ punctuating Lafayette’s words.

“Yeah? And you whipped a knife on someone!” Alexander yelled back playfully. Hercules continued to laugh.

“Oh, shut up, ‘Erc! You can’t say anything! Two people in ‘ospital who?” Lafayette jerked, progressively getting himself more and more worked up. His cheeks were glowing a lipstick red and his eyes darkened with fury.

“‘Two people in hospital, who?’” Hercules mocked in a false French accent. It was awfully stereotypical, and fake as hell. But it annoyed Lafayette to the point where he leapt from his bed and pointed pressingly in his best friends direction.

“Lay off!” John jumped up and separated the two with his arms. “Okay! We all did things wrong, like... I disappointed god!” John beamed with a singsong voice, pleading to cheer those up.

“Disappointed god?” Thomas questioned pressingly, his voice ripe with curiosity.

“I was kicked from Catholic school for my ‘deadly homosexuality that could infect others’.” John chortled and moved away from Lafayette and Hercules, adjusting to the fact that the tension in the room was still thick enough to be sliced with a knife.

“Oh damn,” James whispered mistily to himself, scratching at a scab in his forehead, located just about his right ear.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Oh no! I’ve been infected by the gay!” He yelled and Thomas exploded with laughter. It made Alex smile, and realise that Thomas, in fact, had a nice, boisterous chuckle.

“You can’t pray away the gay,” Hercules spoke in his often loud voice, smirking for the world to see once more.

“We can sure as hell try!” Lafayette knelt on his bed and placed his hands in a prayer motion. “Be gone, homo!”

John fell backwards dramatically and flopped to the floor. His hand touched his forehead as if fainted.

Alex snorted.

The dormitory door clanged with the pound of a fist. “Get to class, boys!” The familiar booming and authoritative tone of Head Master Washington exploded into the dorm.

“Sorry, Mr Washington!” Alexander apologises with a grit of his teeth.

“Suck up,” Thomas mouths and stands, leaving with James hot on his polished heels.

Lafayette stood and nodded towards the ajar door. “Wanna go hang in the courtyard?”

“And risk getting detention?” Hercules scoffed, “obviously.”

“Let’s fucking go!” John exclaimed, picking up his boots and shoving them on his feet.

From the slightly open door they could hear a yell. “Thomas, I swear to god!” And then the muffled reply, ‘what? She despises both of us, let’s just hang out in the courtyard!’

“Sounds like someone else is thinking about skiving class!” Lafayette sniggered, hoisting the door wide open and heading out. “Coming?” Hercules nodded and rushed after him.

Alexander stuck his fist in the air and clapped. “Anything to skip Mrs Reynolds class!”And they ran down the stairs, leaping down the stairs two or three at a time. It was dangerous.

And they loved it.

[callowaylilys]

it was the start of summer and the ending of her college career. a masters of fine arts degree in creative writing. who would have thought? her, nearly ditzy -- but still some brains when it mattered -- sawyer brooke scott sawyer, would have ended up here. with a masters in creative writing. writing. that, out of all things.  something she both despised and couldn’t even connect with her father about. no, because her talent was always art, her heart was always in art. music. while she didn’t sing, -- no, her voice was never that good. she could clear out a room, in fact, she did once during karaoke with the gang (if she remembered correctly) -- she heard the beats, the rhythm. the art behind it. she was a lot like her mother in that way.  she was more artistically inclined than anything else and apparently that’s what lead her here. standing right where she was, right at the entrance of nyu, ready to say goodbye. she found love for writing because of her art. 

it also took some help from her therapist, sawyer could never really get over what happened to her. it being nearly 6 years ago. 

‘how does one get over that?’ she remembers asking, leg swinging -- a nervous antic -- as she sat on the most comfortable beige leather couch she ever sat on. 

‘i won’t lie, sawyer. what happened to you and jude...that’s something that stays with you forever, but i’m here to help you deal with those emotions in the best way you can.’

she rolled her eyes. 

‘you’re using art now, but if that’s not helping -- try something different. try... try writing about it.” 

sawyer laughed, she remembers laughing so hard she was sure she was going to pee her pants. the girl barely passed english in high school and now her therapist -- her therapist who apparently was suppose to know her - was recommending writing. bullshit, i can’t even form a sentence, she thought to herself. but there was the poem. the poem.  she had written about it. perhaps, he did know her after all. 

“look at me now..”  she said softly, graduation cap and gown in hand. an engagement ring adorning her perfectly manicured hands. 

ding! 

ding! 

the sound of her phone going off took her out of memory lane.  her screensaver, a picture of her, lydia, laney, natalie, jude and davis, and sam -- cam. she promised she’d get it right. it’s been years.  natalie’s then toddler, now 5 year old in the middle of both of them. she had pictures of the babe all over phone. she wasn’t on any social media anymore. she deleted it months after the incident. she had allowed for social media to take over every aspect of her life when she was younger. hell, she went on live so many times.. she shared so much of them. it started with the breaking of her camera, her laptop and then months later,  she took down her blogs, her youtube channel. she kept them up, thinking that maybe she’d go back to it one day but she couldn’t. she couldn’t do that anymore. she was too out there and needed to reel herself back in. 

her phone rang. a picture of a younger lydia popping up on her screen. 

“hey bobcat -- yeah.. be right there. just picked up my cap and gown.. i know, right! can you believe it?” 

the young woman walked down the steps of nyu, heels clicking on each and every step. she walked with confidence, giggling on the phone as she spoke to her cousin about the new things little jr does, or laney having to watch natalie do her toaster strudel dance. they were older now. wiser. she used to live in a constant state of fear. afraid that someone was following her, staring at her entirely too long and too much for her liking.  but in this moment, right now, for the first time in years. she was sure of one thing and one thing only. she was okay. her family was okay. they were fine. 

everything was going to be okay. 

[gamegrumpiess]

Sleepwalk

I was listening to Sleepwalk by Renee Olstead, and I had this idea.

Grump: Danny (from now on, most will be Danny. Unless you request someone else, which I will be happy to do!)

Btw! I'm this plot, Renee didn't write the lyrics. You did! She isn't even a singer in this universe. Just a heads up.

-

Y/n's POV

I can't sleep tonight. It's been a month since me and Danny broke up, but I can't help but still mourn our relationship. It was mutual, at least that's what he thinks. I would've never called it off. I was so in love with him. I still am. We told the fans, and they were pretty supportive in what we did. A lot of them were really sad, as was I. Danny is a singer just like me. I do silly songs just like him. But he encouraged me to do a cover album or a cover song. I did one album, Cover Me Up was the name. It got a lot of love, which I am very proud of.

I turn on my phone to check the time. 4:23 am. The bold numbers shine at me in front of Danny's face. I couldn't bring it to myself to change my screensaver. It's not like anyone's gonna see. I miss him a lot, every night gets harder than the last. He was my world. I've known him since senior year of high school, he was a huge part of my life. And now... That's no more. He's probably living his best life. Being Danny Sexbang and all. He probably has girls flying at his feet, throwing him their panties and offering 'the night of his life'. I understand I might be over thinking, but I can't help it. He was mine, and now he's out there doing who knows what. I let a few stray tears fall down ontou pillow. It's so lonely here at night now. I love what I do, singing, dancing, having fun. It was just so much more amazing when I had someone to share it with.

I lay my head back a stare at the ceiling. I need to distract myself, so I reach for my headphones and plug them in, looking for my Oldies playlist. I click on it and the song that comes on is Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny. Listening to the slow beat and light guitar, I cry even more. Just my luck, huh? I can't just lay here, I really should get up and something. Writing usually helps me calm down. That's when I get an idea for a song, it's a bit sad and people will know exactly who its about. But maybe that's what needs to happen. My feelings should be out there. And if something goes wrong, I'll accept the outcomes.

I pull up my pen and notebook and just start writing.

"Sleepwalk, instead of dreamin' I

Sleepwalk.

Cause' I lost you and now, what am I to do?

Can't believe that we're through.

Sleep talk. Cause' I miss you, I sleep talk.

While the memories of you wither like a soul.

Darling I was so low.

The night fills me with blame. I see your face, tears through my brain.

I know I miss you so. I still love you, drives me insane.

Sleepwalk. Every night I just sleepwalk. Please come back, and when you walk inside the door, I will sleepwalk no more."

I immediately went to my computer set up and staring out my own little version of Sleepwalk. More of like a piano and violin cover, rather than guitar and drum. Once I had it to where I wanted the beat and rhythm, I pulled up my microphone and started singing away.

Danny's POV

This morning was the worst. I couldn't sleep at all, I've been up since 3:30 am. I guess I haven't really gotten used to sleeping by myself. Without y/n's body near mine, it's hard to even get tired. I do miss her. A lot actually. I know it was my idea to call off the relationship, but I was scared of what would happen if I didn't have enough time for her. I have game grumps, starbomb, and ninja sex party. She deserves someone who has all the time in the world to give her all the attention she deserves. When we told the fans, I didn't expect them to be so sad. I even lost a handful of fans because of it. She agreed, but I knew her better. She was on the verge of tears when she left. She was trying to be strong so I wouldn't see that side of her, but I know better than that. When she left I broke down. Gripped and clawed at my hair, cried on the edge of the bed, wondering if I had made the right choice. I big-huge part of me was telling myself I didn't.

My phone buzzes, and I see its a text from Arin.

When you get here I need to show you something.

Oh what fresh hell does he have to subject my eyes to. Last time he said that, I had to watch 12 Days Of Elves... Don't ask.

I finally arrived at the Grump Space. I see everyone in their usual area. Ryan and Matt at the computers, Ross and Barry in the kitchen making coffee, and the only other people here this early is Arin and me. Everyone else usually is a little late. "Thank god you're finally here. You haven't felt your phone buzzing?" I give him a confused look. "Other than you texting me, no. You know I have notifications turned off for my social media. What's going on?" He turns on the computer in front of us. "You should hear this before anything. I promise you, it's important." I roll my eyes. "This better not be some stupid shit, Arin!" I say with a light laugh. He shook his head, and I knew from the look in his eyes that this was in fact important.

Once the computer was fully on, he went to YouTube. Looking up y/n's name, I felt my stomach turn. Did she have a new boyfriend? Was she sick? Did she die?! I understand that last one is a bit of a long shot, but I tend to over think a lot.

A video was uploaded at 7:00 am this morning? "' sleepwalk? ' isn't that an old song?" I say confused. But I'm not all that surprised. She always did love the oldies. He nods his head. "She added her own lyrics and tune to it. And I think you should hear it." I nodded and put on some earphones, pushing play on the video. Her voices comes on, and it feels so amazing to hear her voice again. Even if it is just an intro in a YouTube video.

"Hello everyone. I had this idea for a song at like 3 in the morning. I couldn't sleep, so I made this. I hope you like it..."

The video fades to black and then it shows her at her little office space she has in her room. The music starts up, and at this point I notice her eyes. They're a little red and slightly puffy. She did a good job covering it up, but I've known her since senior year. She can't hide that from me.

She sings softly yet with so much passion and emotion. The lyrics sink in, and I know why Arin wanted to hear this. Its about me. I scroll down to look at the description and comments, and they all say things along the lines of 'I fucken sad now.' 'Wow, Danny really did a number on her' 'DANNY YOU NEED TO HEAR THIS SHIT!' 'This makes me so sad because she literally couldn't sleep thinking about him... Danny get your girl back!' 'Damn that made me tear up... '

After the video ended, I look at my phone. Y/n's face still smiles at me from behind the screen. I didn't want to change it, I couldn't do it. I felt several tears hit my leg, I didn't even realize i was crying. "Hey Dan, are you okay?" Arin puts his hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "No... I'm not at all." I open up Twitter and see thousands of notifications to nsp and game grumps. All of which telling me to see what I just saw. I stood up slowly, feeling a little disappointed in myself. How could I let her walk out of my life so easily...?

Y/n's POV

After I posted the video, I decided I should really try to get some sleep. Especially since thousands of people will blow up my phone later on. Once in bed again, I tried to think of all the possibilities and outcomes of this. It could either go really well, or go really horribly bad. I guess we'll just have to see.

I wake up several hours later to my phone ringing. The sky is still a little bright to I assume it's not that late. 'Suzy <3' shines up at me. I smile, me and her always stayed quite close. "Hello?" I try to run the sleep out of my eyes. "Hey, are feeling okay? I heard your song, and I know it's about Dan. How are you, hun?"

It means a lot that she's not just calling about GET HIM BACK! She just wants to know if I'm okay. "Honestly? I feel so empty. Luckily today is just a lazy day so I don't have to adult today. But still.... I feel lost." I hear her sigh, "I know, y/n. It sucks. But you have me! And I'm way better than Danny!" She says jokingly. "Damn right you are! I'll call you a bit later when I'm more awake, okay?" We say our goodbyes and I sit up more in bed. I take a quick look at my notification bar and just as I expected, its blowin up. 'When will I stop being a pussy?' My thoughts we're interrupted by several rings of my doorbell.

Without looking through the peephole I open the door, only to see a certain curly haired man standing on my doorstep. "Danny? What are you doing here?" His eyes are glazed over and puffy as if he had just finished crying. He looked down. "I.... I heard your song. Was it... Was it about me? I'm sorry, I just need to know. I couldn't focus at all today during work. And on my way home, I just couldn't take it anymore. I have to know." My anxiety goes up a long shot. My eyes looking at everyone but him. "Y/n... I need to know." I slowly nod my head, still avoiding his eyes. "May I come in? I think we should talk.." I scoot to the side to let him in. "I'm sorry if I caused a lot of drama. I just thought... It would be better if I just made it into a song rather than.. Just telling you." I confessed. He grabbed my shoulders. "Don't be sorry, y/n. When we broke up, and you left. I broke down. I couldn't handle the fact that I just let you go.. I'm sorry."

"Then why did you do it? Why wait so fucking long to come to my house?! Why hurt me this bad, leaving me all alone when all I wanted was you! I hated knowing that YOU let me just walk out. And you looked like you... Like you didn't even give a shit..." I couldn't help it. I let all my emotions explode on him. "Why do you think I did?! Y/n, you deserve someone who has the time for you, who will give you all the attention in the world. Someone who will GIVE you the world! I want nothing more than to have you back again, but you don't deserve someone like me! I love with all my soul, hell, I'd give up everything for your dumbass! I didn't say anything till now because I thought you'd be mad, and I thought you'd moved on, hated me even!" He was standing pretty close to me by now. "Well no shit I'd be mad! You think I don't deserve you? Bullshit! You've already given me the world and more! Don't think that I don't understand about your job because I do the same fucking thing!!! I know it's hard, but I was willing to work even harder because I love you more than life itself! I deserve you just like you deserve me!" He rolled his eyes. "You're fucking gorgeous! You can have any man you want! What the hell is so special about me?" I got in his face once again, "because you are so much better than any other man I've met! We've known each other for YEARS and you think I'd just give all that up?! What kinda drugs are you on, Dan? Do you think I'm that fucken dumb? I haven't slept in weeks because it feels so horrible not having you next to me. That's some bullshit to say that I can have any man I want. I want YOU, dipshit!" I couldn't help it, I fell to my knees, shaking from trying to hold back tears. How he say that I didn't deserve him? He was my world, he still is my world. Nothing will change that.

He walks to me, and sits on the floor with me. I feel his arms wrap around me, and I lean into his chest. "I'm sorry.. I loved you more than anything. I still do. Can you please give me another chance..? Now, I won't ever think you don't deserve me. I won't think anything like that. You mean the world to me, y/n. Please don't forget that." I look up at him, seeing his eyes filled with new tears. "Well duh, how can i say no to this face?" I grab his cheeks and smush them together and laugh. "I love you too, Danny." He smiled and leaned in and gave me a much needed kiss.