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mizukagami-takamagahara · 1 year

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Noel Vermillion = Remix Heart Vol.1 Wardrobe

The second installment in my Noel wardrobe analysis series. You can find the previous part here.

Today we’ll be looking at Noel’s outfits throughout the first volume of Remix Heart! Sumeragi’s manga actually features a lot of fun new looks for the girls, especially Noel!

Much like her depiction in Heart to Heart, Noel is shown to have shorter hair than she does in Calamity Trigger. This, again, is pretty reasonable considering that Remix Heart takes place in the year 2196, while CT takes place three years later in 2199. Her hair simply hasn’t had time to grow to the length we see in the main four games.

This makes me think that Noel wants to grow her hair out long, as it seems even longer in later artwork such as CP. I also wonder if Noel’s hair grows at a relatively natural rate, or a steady but accelerated rate, or if moments such as her transformation into Mu caused a spike in hair growth.

Long hair is a trait shared among the Saya-based Boundary Interface Prime Field Devices, so I also wonder if the desire to grow her hair long is simply a personal preference, or some kind of shared trait/instinct inherited from Saya or The Origin.

We see Noel’s uniform make more appearances throughout Remix Heart, as the manga takes place during Noel’s first year at the academy. The first chapter is set within a week after the events of Heart to Heart.

As Noel and her roommates are still on cooking duty during the first chapter, we also see the return of Noel’s apron and handkerchief. There’s no notable change to the outfit since its last chronological appearance.

The first new look we see is a shot of the mark on Noel’s chest. We know from the mainline games that she’s had this mark since her creation, though we didn’t get a chance to see it in Heart to Heart. Noel seems to be covering the mark in several shots, though there are also shots where her hands are down and it doesn’t seem to be bothering her. Still, I thought it might be worth mentioning.

It’s unclear whether she is covering the mark intentionally (out of some insecurity or fear that someone may ask about it) or if the posture is part of a different behavior. It would be a strange ‘tattoo’ to explain to those around her, especially given that she has no memory of how she got it. However, considering what we know about Noel, it’s just as likely that her covering her chest has something to do with her insecurity about her breasts, especially with the crowd she’s in during this scene. It could also just be part of a ‘shy/reserved’ posture, which would suit her character and how we see her carrying herself throughout the series.

Lastly, it could just be a choice by the artist Sumeragi to avoid having to draw the mark.

Another new look for Noel is this ponytail she wears when going to the bath. This is a common practice in Japanese public baths, where keeping your hair up and out of the water is the polite thing to do. Interestingly, later scenes at the baths show Noel with her hair down. The only other time we see Noel putting her hair up (outside of how she tucks her hair under her NOL Uniform hat) is in the 2nd Volume of Remix Heart, where Noel wears a ponytail at the beach.

Notably, Noel’s hair is drawn down again only two pages later, with very little time having passed between images- she hasn’t even made it into the water!

As Noel is the only character subject to this kind of change, it's very likely that this is just a visual error on the part of the art team. Still, I find it interesting when paired with the fact that this same artist never draws Noel’s hair up in the bath again. The rest of the cast, from what I recall, keep their ‘bathing hairdos’ consistent.

To try to look at it from a Watsonian perspective, I could believe that Noel’s hair tie happened to be loose, and that it slipped out during the general commotion of Mai’s fall and all the girls hurrying to make sure she was alright.

Now this next entry, I can’t really count as one of Noel’s outfits. It’s actually an outfit she stole ‘borrowed’ from one of her teachers. However, it is still an outfit Noel picked out for herself, so I’ll still take a look at it!

While the girls are playing dress up in Chapter 4, we see Noel is interested in this strapless bra. It’s a shame we don’t get a chance to see what sort of colors she picks out for herself. We do see that the bra has a ribbon at the center, a prominent row of frills at the top, a smaller row of frills at the bottom, and another faint row alongside each of the stripes on the cups. She’s initially frustrated that the cute bra won’t fit her, until Makoto shows her how to use padding. I do wonder why a woman like Emma has pads in the first place...

Regardless, Noel ends up liking the way she looks so much that even after she changes back into her uniform, she keeps the pads and the bra on. Interestingly, this will not be the last time Noel decides to “borrow [something] in secret!”

Noel really doesn’t seem to be above stealing if she can justify it to herself. Perhaps this is a similar case to the event in Remix Heart Chp. 10, where she “didn’t think it was being used.”

The rest of the outfit Noel picks for herself seems to be a light dress, again with frill and ribbon features- a prominent frill at the neckline, a frilled hem with a visible ribbon (I unfortunately cannot find the name of this style) and a visible ribbon cinch under the bust that is tied in a bow at the back. We again see Noel wearing a relatively short skirt in comparison to the outfits chosen by Kajun and Tsubaki, which suggest she had a variety to choose from in Emma’s room.

The ‘frill and ribbon’ combination reminds me of her apron from earlier! By now I’d argue that it’s safe to say Noel really loves frills, and that she may be partial to ribbons and flowy skirts.

While they aren’t part of any outfit, I would like to take a moment to appreciate the stuffed animals Noel finds and takes a liking to in the same chapter. One of her homescreen lines from BBDW revealed that she collects stuffed animals, and that rabbits are among the ones she has at home. We also see in both the main games and later chapters of Remix Heart that she really likes pandas!

The last outfit we’ll be looking at is the outfit Noel wears during the sports festival in Chapters 5 and 6. We see Noel wearing a t-shirt and bloomer set that seems to be the standard uniform for the festival, as all girls shown participating in the games are wearing the same outfit. The ribbon in her hair, too, seems to be mandatory for participating team members.

Her shoes and socks are the only real features of note, as they are the only elements of the outfit that I saw any variation in among characters. Noel seems to be wearing simple, standard-length socks and light-colored tennis shoes. The soles of her shoes seem to be a dark color when compared to Tsubaki’s, but we don’t get a clear shot of them, so it could just be a shading choice.

Over the course of this study, I have noticed that Noel seems to favor light colors with dark accents. We see this in the bra she chose, her sports shoes, and arguably her uniform’s combo of light socks/dark loafers.

#blazblue #blazblue remix heart #remix heart #noel vermillion #bb setting #torifune military academy #prime field device #boundary interface prime field device #bb trivia #ao no imakagami #bb meta

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greaserdemon · 10 months

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[ Noel Leroy - Sketch Doodle Ref 2023 ] Long overdue doodle sketch ref of a character I adopted back in 2013! He's mostly the same in this ref, I pretty much only smoothed out his markings, added some piercings and tattoos, made him look less chibi etc. I can finally use him for Artfight! >B)

🐈 Artfight Profile: noel-leroy 🐈 Toyhou.se Profile: noel leroy (Still needs new coding)

Artwork & Character © GreaserDemon

#anthro #furry #ocs #originalcharacter #feline #sealpoint #siamese #fancy #formal #furryart #twink #twink furry #male ocs #teamvampire #team vampire #art #digital art #digitalart

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who-is-page · 2 years

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Growing Whiskers & Tattooing Skin: Experiences and Realizations of Aging as Queer Extranthropes

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,952 Summary: Our collective experience of being extranthropes (nonhuman systemmates) and growing older both physically and nonphysically. Includes thoughts about what it means to be "queer," processes of body reclamation, and misconceptions about adulthood.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for NaNoWriMo 2021. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedpaws]

“Extranthrope” isn’t a word that any of us typically apply to ourselves, but it’s a fairly accurate one, meaning to reference an individual in a system who is entirely nonhuman. We’re in the unique scenario where we’ve been nonhuman our entirely lives, before we ever realized there were labels we could utilize to easier translate our experiences and before we’d ever met anyone else in similar situations.

Growing older, for us, is more complicated than it might otherwise be because of our dual nature. Existing both in the nonphysical mindscape, as ourselves, and in the “outer world” in a human body has had an interesting affect of changes both internal and external slowly occurring as we grow older.

Laugh lines appearing on the human face, while a new set of horns starts to show and spiral on a dragon’s head. Tattoos slowly crowding around our body’s skin, while whiskers grow in so slowly as to be unnoticed until one day when they’re seen in the reflection of a pool. It’s an existence flavored by two separate, but distinct and unstoppable changes and appearances.

Growing up in the human body as a child going through growth spurts and suffering through hormones largely isn’t the type of growth we’re referencing in this piece, albeit it is relevant to mention. Though those specific changes have strongly affected each of us in different ways, they’ve largely been traumatic and disjointed, like looking into a fun-house mirror and being told that that’s the real you. The literal act of going through teendom, and then into adulthood, was a time marked by a relationship with our body molded from pain, suffering, and dysphoria. Nothing was gained from this period, so I do not refer to these emotions and experiences as growing pains: rather, the growing pains our body has experienced has been the sting of a tattoo needle, the snip of scissors against hair, and the aching of arms covered in muscles and burns alike. It is not puberty that made our body “ours,” but rather, it was the queer-nonhuman reclamation of it in our adulthood that has softened it into being a home, rather than a prison.

I say queer-nonhuman only for the fact that I know simply saying “queer” would spark fury and cause confusion, though I do believe our identities on their deepest levels to fit into it; our genders, sexualities, and species identity are so far removed from the “normal” and the “standard” within the United States as to not only have long-reaching ill effects on us because of the society around us, but also to have the secondary effect of sequestering us off into otherwise untouchable and unknowable cultures, communities, and experiences. The longer we live, the more we realize exactly how interconnected and intertwined everything is about how we understand ourselves and how that affects the way we interact with others.

Noel’s species is “dragon,” Noel’s sex and gender is “intersex female-presenting dragon,” Noel presents to her friends, lovers, coworkers, and acquaintances both digitally and in real life as “a dragon,” and surely it would not be unreasonable to view her sense of self as the form of queer “which actively disrupts normativity, transgresses the boundaries of propriety, and interferes with the status quo in closed social and sexual systems” (pg. 159 of “The Werewolf as Queer, the Queer as Werewolf, and Queer Werewolves” by Phillip A. Bernhardt-House from Queering the Non Human) And much in the same way her identities, affected by her nonhumanity as they uniquely are, are queer, then so isn’t all of ours?

And surely this multi-level existence is nothing if not a disruption of normalcy, if by mere virtue of it happening offstage it inadvertently morally enrages and entrenches entire battalions of “sys-medicalists” and “system exclusionists.” It sometimes feels as though our fight for personhood in the eyes of others is a never-ending battle and drags on every step of the way: from the arguments of pronouns and not passing and the impossibility of nonbinary gender identities from sysmeds, to the casual biphobia rampant in many spaces, to the anti-kink rhetoric sweeping the internet and younger LGBT spaces, from the plural communities hungry for blood, to the social systems in our everyday life and society which enable us to be fired or Baker Acted just by virtue of existing as multiple nonhumans in a human body. The list goes on and on. A part of me wonders that if the world hadn’t been so intent on ripping the metaphorical meat from our bones to downplay us into a more standard existence, then if we might have not had such a difficult adolescence: but at the same time, these attitudes have only slightly shifted into adulthood, so such a theoretical past is likely impossible to imagine while still retaining the possibility of having grown into some semblance of the “myself” or “ourselves” we know now. It’s not inaccurate to say we were baptized in trauma, like so many others of our in-between generations segment.

While we were forced to grow up quickly as children in the sinking state filled with the corpses of the people who cared about it most, trampled underfoot by snapshot-seeking tourists and snowbirds drunk off 3pm unlimited margarita beach deals, we hadn’t yet become ourselves. We hadn’t settled into our skin, with sets of scales to match. At that point, we were just desperately holding on and being tossed from event to horrifying event, one after another.

The act of making this body “ours” was, at first, a grueling one. We weren’t sure how to do, ladened with our baggage both literal and metaphorical: how do you start to recognize yourself out of the stranger in the mirror? It’s not a simple question to answer.

The initial answer ended up being the small things: clothing. Jewelry. Shoes. Slowly replacing our wardrobe, filled with clothing that we didn’t love at best and hated at worst, was the first step. Or rather, realizing that wearing clothing we enjoyed both being in and being seen in was something we could do, was the first step. Colorful button-ups, warm jeans, so many baseball hats. A theta-delta necklace, a wolf ring.

From there, it become tiny actions. The ability to pick up and read a newspaper, and then to have a favorite newspaper. Figuring out the kind of coffee we each liked, or the kind of tea we liked. Picking out the comfiest spot on the couch at open-mic nights, perched next to and laughing alongside two strangers. Noel’s midnight beach bike rides; Drago’s after-party walks; Wyvern’s occasional class peek-in; my bonfires.

It continued on into having friends who would recognize us not for who they thought we were, but who we actually were, plurality and nonhumanity and queerness all in one. Each recognizing and acknowledging us as a collection of individuals, rather than as someone they could pretend was a “normal” “singlet.” Of being not only accepted, but well-liked and well-loved for our differences and quirks.

And then it turned into more literally making our body ours: first, with a haircut. With painted (or not) nails, with a binder, with our permanent “fox socks” of leg hair. And then with tattoos and planned tattoos, of literally marking the body as our own, as an extension of something far greater than it first appeared. Over time, we grew more and more familiar, and more and more fond of these intentional choices and the appearance we found more fitting to each person.

It’s culminated in the realizations of who we each, individually, want to be—sometimes with the added bonus of whywe want to be, though we’ve also realized that that’s not always necessary, either. And the beauty of the human body we all share is that we can use it as a collaborative canvas, shaping it into something that’s representative of all of us and of the history we’ve carved out for ourselves in the eroding cliffside of humanity that we’re a part of. In aging, we’re just seeing more and more become added to it over time, based largely on the choices we make.

Within the mindscape, we’re separate. We can look each other in the eyes, and argue, and laugh, and chat in equal measure. And there, too, we age and our bodies change. Noel’s been teasing my new whiskers, claiming that I’m finally growing that “beard” I’ve always wanted the body to have—and Drago’s been, in turn, poking fun at the accumulation of scars she’s gotten over the years, announcing that she “looks like some drunk asshole tried to play tic-tac-toe on her scales while she was still moving.” I’ve told Drago that those are bold words coming from someone who’s beauty sleep consists of 23 out of 24 hours a day.

In some ways it’s strange, but in so many more it’s oddly comforting. It’s another reminder that we’re here, alive, still changing and growing even as adults. When we were younger, it was hard to conceptualize such happening as adulthood seemed, to us, a static state of being. Our trauma also made us doubt we would ever even reach it, either mentally or physically. But adulthood isn’t some sort of single point where you just “stop.” It’s a place where you become (depending on your situation) less bound by the shackles that previously held you back from realizing more about the world around you, and from having larger sets of experiences. It’s a no-holds-barred sense of freedom, where you can step outside of boundaries you didn’t even realize existed until you took your blinders off and looked around you.

We’ve seen some adult nonhumans stagnate, wallowing in simultaneously their own bitterness and self-reinforced sense of superiority. It’s not the norm by any means, but it certainly can’t be denied, either: people who bemoan how much better it was in their day, and how people have lost the true meaning of therianthropy/otherkinity/fictionkinity/etc., and how lonely they are because no one will listen to them gatekeep and berate others younger than them. Looking at those people, we struggle to understand how they ended up that way. One of the realizations of traversing through adulthood is the knowledge and understanding that people aren’t like that because they “grew into it,” nor because becoming a crotchety, bitter person is some sort magical side-effect of living a long life—one way or another, people who have attitudes like that are laying and complaining in a grave of their own making. Choices in life may not always be our own to make, but we are always free to decide who we are in life in the ways that count. If someone stops changing and growing as a person, then that’s an active personal choice—not reflective of a process within adulthood.

Life in this human body is too short for us to ever justify to ourselves behavior and perspectives where we simply stop taking in new information, new experiences, and re-discovering, re-defining, and re-perfecting ourselves. We don’t ever want to stop changing, both physically and in the mindscape. We don’t want to become trapped in an angry, miserable whirlpool of our own creation, too stuck up our own asses to look outside and enjoy what the world has to offer, or to fight for what we want to change. We have a finite number of birthdays, of first winter snows, and of days spent lounging around bantering with friends and partners left. We have to make them count for something, even if only to ourselves. After all, we’re the most important people in our lives.

#inkedpaws #alterhuman #otherkin #extranthrope #NO PROOFREADING WE FIRST DRAFT LIKE MNE #sorry for posting this so late my L key broke cause I'm winning just so much #(that's not a joke my L key DID actually break...I ordered a new one but sadness)

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marknoel · 2 months

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#blackwork #tattoo #dotwork #tattoos #mark noel #melbournnetattoo #backpiece #botanical #gumbranch #wattle

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notoriousnico · 2 years

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MEET / MISS NICO CASTELLANO ! 🤍

FULL NAME: Nicoletta Lucinda Castellano MEANING: Nicoletta is an Italian feminine form of the name Nicholas, and means "people of victory.” NICKNAME(S): Nico (nee-ko) BIRTH DATE: May 31, 1988 AGE: 33 ZODIAC: Gemini GENDER: Female PRONOUNS: She/her SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual CURRENT LOCATION: Manhattan, NY

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: Capri, Italy HOMETOWN: Miami, Florida SOCIAL CLASS: Upper middle EDUCATION LEVEL: Bachelor’s in Business Administration from Columbia University FATHER: Noel Luis Castellano MOTHER: Carolina Marina Cuervas-Castellano SIBLING(S): 5 brothers *(wanted connection) BIRTH ORDER: Last and only daughter (adopted) CHILDREN: None PETS: Lolita, French bulldog CURRENT RELATIONSHIP: In a relationship* (wanted connection) PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Ex from university* (wanted connection)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Lindsey Morgan EYE COLOR: Brown HAIR COLOR: Brunette HAIR TYPE/STYLE: Long and wavy GLASSES/CONTACTS?: Both DOMINANT HAND: Left HEIGHT: 5′5″ WEIGHT: 135 pounds BUILD: Fit EXERCISE HABITS: Pilates, yoga, bike classes, running TATTOOS: All in private~ places PIERCINGS: Her ears MARKS/SCARS: One down the side of her hip/thigh from jumping a fence

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: Eating good food ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE: Tequila on the rocks with a lime NON- ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE: Dirty iced chai latte COLOR: Deep red FOOD: Birria tacos FLOWER: Red roses HOLIDAY: Christmas SCENERY: The ocean SPORT: Soccer WEATHER: Breezy spring day

NICO’S BIOGRAPHY

TW: Adoption tw, death tw, infertility struggles tw

Nicoletta Lucinda Castellano was born on the island of Capri, Italy. Nico was put up for adoption mere minutes after she was born. Many of her memories faded from her adolescence as she grew up in the cruel foster care system. The ones that do remain close to her are reminders of the life she fears. Having close to nothing as a child always made her feel left out. Getting teased for her lack of wealth and luxuries only inspired her to reach for the stars. She couldn’t depend on what her lousy foster families provided, so it was up to her. When she was ten, she was officially adopted by Noel Castellano and Carolina Cuervas-Castellano.

The Castellano family name has appeared all over the world, but it all began in Havana, Cuba. Known for their successful business in coffee farming and expanding their production and plan, Noel Castellano had his future set. The Castellano’s opened up coffee shops around the Americas and Europe, leading Noel to Miami. Miami was a place for Noel to grow, meeting his wife at the 10th grand opening of Café Castellanos first location in Miami. The young couple went on to marry and build a legacy of their own.

Nico didn’t have much of a choice but the moment she met her adoptive parents, she knew her life would change forever. They were warm and sweet, hoping to crack the shell Nico remained in to protect herself. Noel and Carolina tried for years for a little girl after having five boys in five years but unfortunately, they were unsuccessful. The couple chose to adopt after coming to terms with their infertility struggles. Noel and Carolina had never adopted before, making the choice to complete their family by welcoming Nicoletta into their evergrowing family. Nico had experienced the feeling of being diminished for so many years. Her adoptive family struggled connecting with her for the first few years. She went through so much with her previous foster families that it was hard for Nico to truly open up and connect with them. With their persistence and support, slowly but surely Nico began blossoming into the woman she really was. She had opinions, ambitions and talents she wanted to tap into. Embracing the culture that was being shared with her, she finally felt at home after a few years. Nico grew up to be a strong girl. She let go of her past, only wanting better for herself, finally taking advantage of the life she was adopted into. Her family gave her wings and she flew.

Nico completed her studies, graduating from highschool with honors (which is something she never thought she’d do.) But she needed a plan. The Castellano family only believed in greatness, waiting for her next move. It had to compare to her brothers who were aspiring doctors, lawyers and police officers due to their parents pressing pleads. She knew the right choice but part of her struggled with her identity. As much as her family wanted her to feel like she belonged, she still felt like an outcast. The Castellano name was a blessing and a curse for her, truthfully.

Nico made the choice to leave Miami, moving to New York to attend Columbia University with a full scholarship. She always knew she liked being in charge, but being by her lonesome only proved it further. Nico graduated with a Bachelor’s in Business Administration. As much as her father offered their family business to bloom in New York, she wanted something for herself. At 23, she opened up her first investment– a fitness gym. It was perfect for the shallow society of New York and provided the stability she wanted. CRUSH quickly developed into something bigger than she expected. Nine gyms later and an athleisure line, Nico’s brand spread over the boroughs of New York, finally garnering approval from her father after years.

After a decade of working towards her goals, she felt like she could breathe. That was until her family suffered the devastating loss of her father, Noel. A drunk driver leaving her without one of her major support systems sent shocks through her siblings, mother, and herself. Their coffee empire being left without its CEO only meant one thing. Someone had to take it. The discussions became heated and long through the months of discussing the transition between Noel and the next superior. After six months, the Castellano family agreed to appoint Nicoletta as its next CEO. As much as she wanted to be away from her family’s legacy, this truly felt like a sign for Nico. She would do anything for the people that helped her and soon enough, Café Castellano would be infiltrating New York under Nico’s new plan.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Current relationship !

Ex-partner !

Friends !!

Enemies/rivals !!

Gym buddies !

Gym/coffee shop employees, please <3

I’m open to anything and everything~

#/nuestra

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soooup · 4 years

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𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞...

💀 * [ rudy pankow + cis-male + he/him ] —— have you met conner ‘soup’ jonathan morganroth? they are a twenty-one year old junior currently studying archeology. they live at decker house, and word around campus is that this scorpio is convincing + charismatic, as well as easily threatened + uncompromising. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. maps littered with coffee rings, loose fitting rugby sweaters, ruining a $300 dollar polo with puke, daddy’s lawyer on speed dial, on a comedown at the back of class, pants down in the prof’s office during office hours. [ ooc: mimi. twenty-2. she/her & ADT. ]

tw: substance abuse

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡

fast fax 📠 —

name: conner jonathan morganroth— or morgan-roth, it changes daily

nicknames: soup

age: twenty-1

sexuality: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tattoos: ‘faciam ut mei memineris’ ( inner forearm )

born/raised: fairfield, ct / fairfield, ct & geneva, ch

personality 🧍‍♂️—

“rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain” should be both tattooed on his forehead and his tombstone. Has money; knows it && won’t let you forget it. Has always been the one buying rounds for his friends, over paying for dxxxs, and buying clothes without ever looking at the price tag. If you’re in with him— have fun never paying for anything ever again, and if you’re not...get him drunk enough ( not a hard feat ) and he’ll probably buy you anything too.

the most common question to ask after he flexes wealth to you is, “what exactly do your parents do?” Which warrants the appropriate response of “my dad owns a couple mining operations” but is most often met with “my dad inherited a billion dollar multinational mining corporation that also does illegal digs, and archaeological expeditions.” But you’ll never guess which one Conner prefers.

His dad’s company is one of the major reasons he decided to major in archaeology, that and the fact that Indiana Jones is one cool motherfucker and Jurassic Park is a fantastic movie. If you catch him on a good day, might very well nerd out to you about history and long lost legends of pirates and civilizations hidden in the most isolated regions of the globe.

To say he has a slight s*bstance ab*se problem would be more than understatement, but in his own defence he only takes shit that clears his system in 2 days, and it’s all just for fun. He’ll stop when he feels like it, or if he’s gotta’ face his parents.

romantically his life is a little lacklustre but don’t tell him I said that. There’s something about a man-child with no concept of money, and addictive tendencies that doesn’t really get the people going. Not to mention his sexuality is one big question mark, which he does his best to avoid thinking about.

overall, if you’ve never spoke to him in your life and you see him strolling around on campus, you’d safely assume the best bet would be to avoid him like the plague. But! if you find yourself in his circle, he’s a big joker and a quite chill guy...not to mention, free shit.

find his stat page here, and his wanted connections here

ooc 🧑🏽‍🎓 —

name: mimi or sab timezone: adt / gmt-3 age: twenty-2 fun fact: i’ve met cody and noel!

hi y’all!! i’m so excited to write with you and see what fun ass storylines unfold, feel free to message me anytime about anything you like! I also tend to write a lot of prose so if I reply to our thread with word vomit no need to match! let’s have sum fun! 🤸‍♂️

#holloway.intro

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chicagocityfclanspromoblog · 3 years

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Miles Agyeman-King → Alfie Enoch → Pumapard

→ Basic Information

Age: 136

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: April 9th

Zodiac Sign: Aries

Religion: Animism

→ His Personality Miles is a hard character to place and understand. He seems to have a wide array of personalities mixed in one, which can be explained by his experience with the Hypershift. He is self-contained and doesn’t typically use strong emotions to show what he is feeling. He generally feels uncomfortable around outbursts of emotions. He doesn’t talk about his feelings, but he will act on them and show people how he feels instead of telling them. Miles prefers to keep his thought process to himself. He never brings up the past, whether it’s his or someone else’s, and never relies on people’s personal or historical experiences to tell him who they really are.

Miles is comfortable adapting to the environment and responding to the situation as it changes. He tends to blend into the background when stronger or louder personalities are in the same room. His silent strength however plays very well with the often overly expressive Cats in his pack. Hidden below the calm layer is that same zealous energy that he only allows out during schedule runs with the pack. He’s become known as an impartial calm judge in any arguments that might happen in the pack.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: History Teacher

Scars: Marks along his arms and sides from fighting when he was younger

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream and Pwason Boukannen

Two Dislikes: Superhero Movies and Pen thieves

Two Fears: Heights and Hypershift

Two Hobbies: Meditation and Journaling

Three Positive Traits: Observant, Ambitious and Forgiving

Three Negative Traits: Secretive, Elusive, Restrained

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Roseline King (Mother): She was a fiercely protective mother and taught the boys how to fight for themselves. Her tenacity was up until the very end as Hunter blood was sprayed all around her, she got one last fight in before she died.

Emmanuel King (Father): Miles’s father was a quiet man. He and his brothers were rarely not butting heads with their father’s quiet and gentle behavior. As Miles has grown and reflected, he wonders what his father might think of him today. And if after the hypershift he became the person his father wanted him to be.

Sibling Names:

Arthur King (Triplet): He and Arthur are close, but not like they used to be. They split off after Henry was killed, only meeting up every so often. Arthur tried to settle down once, but the pack kicked him out once they heard of his hypershift. He’s been alone ever since, and has warned Miles that the same thing might happen to him.

Henry King (Triplet): Henry died almost 70 years ago. He couldn’t control his shift anymore and the New Orleans alpha had to kill him. Miles has been scarred ever since that day, and uses it as a motivation to stay in control.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Malia Agyeman (Mate and Wife): M² have been together for 5 years but finally married at the beginning of 2019. Miles’ soft spoken nature is a stark contrast to Malia’s strong and outgoing nature, but he is always there to support her in her endeavors.

Platonic Connections:

Noel Crais (Good Friend): At first Miles was unsure about Noel mothering him or showing him genuine concern. She grew on him when she learned to speak Creole and about his culture. While Mile doesn’t appreciate her knowing looks but he does appreciate her not telling whatever it is she thinks she knows.

Kayla Silvestre (Friendly): Miles has tried to become a resource for Kayla as her dad goes into hypershift. He knows the long painful road ahead of the whole family, whether her dad pulls out of it or not, and he hopes he can ease some of that pain for her.

Esther Yoo (Close Friend): By default of Esther being Malia’s best friend, she’s somewhat become his as well. Esther serves as a good mediator when M² is fighting and is the only other person who excels at talking Malia down.

Rebecka Blake (Acquaintance): Rebecka has been trying to plan a hybrid class between history and English. He’s interested, but the planning is taking longer than he expected.

Roy Allen (Friend): Miles finds Roy a calming presence. There never seems to be an expectation from him and he is a good centering point when Miles feels overwhelmed with his secret.

Hostile Connections:

Rhett Colt (Hate): Rhett Colt was the one hunter who escaped after killing his parents. He sees taking a Colt daughter’s arm as revenge.

Churchill Darling (Annoyance): Churchill stole his face a few months after he came to town. His pack members generally can tell, but Malia has taken to punching Church when she thinks he has stolen his face and he’s been punched quite a few times by his wife on accident.

Ben Miller (Dislikes): He and Ben have had some altercations in the past, especially right when he joined. He’s found it’s better to steer clear of the liger to not trigger an unwanted change.

Pets:

None

→ History Miles and his family immigrated from Haiti to the United States during his early childhood. Miles was 3 years old. They spent some time in Florida as crop laborers/farm workers but eventually worked their way up to Georgia then to New Orleans. His father worked as a seasonal framhand and his mother worked as a maid. His family soon met up with the local pack and they settled in. Eventually people began noticing his parents didn’t age. Some accused them of being witches, or of hiring one to keep them young. The townspeople became so riled up that Buford Colt caught wind, all the way up in Jackson, Mississippi. He came down with his sons and they went hunting for witches. Instead, however, they found the cats. Roseline and Emmanuel sent their sons away to get the alpha when they heard the news of a hunter in town. When their sons returned, they had already been killed. Their alpha and the local seethe quickly killed Buford and most of his sons, except for one.

Miles and two brothers quickly became reckless without their parents warnings. They were angry and in mourning and they took to running off their pain. The triplets would go on long runs, sometimes gone for days at a time in their shift. Their alpha told them to slow down, but they had already become too aggressive to really control. It was at this point any warnings were given up, and they were told to just not kill anyone in New Orleans. A few months later Miles, Arthur, and Henry woke up in Texas, next to a man who’d been mauled to death. They buried him, and realized it had gone too far. Their alpha hadn’t mentioned anything when they’d come back, but a part of Miles wondered if he knew. The brothers immediately stopped shifting, but it wasn’t a smooth process. Miles broke down once or twice, but managed to stop shifting for a year, Arthur figured it out a few months after Miles, but Henry succumbed to the Hypershift, and was killed the following year. That almost triggered both Miles and Arthur to begin shifting again, and they had to move away from the town. It was then that Miles began journaling, to keep his temper and cat under control. It was the only way that he could process those emotions. The two remaining King brothers moved to Atlanta the following year, and then split apart. Miles spent decades travelling around in his human form, until finally he made his way to Chicago. There he finally met a pack likable enough to stay.

→ The Present Miles always thought his years spent in hypershift killed off any chance of romance or a family for him. He’d stayed out of the way of most cat shifters to avoid anything that would trigger him losing control again. He expected he’d act the same again in Chicago, but found something that clicked. Especially when he saw Malia cornered that night. It’d been one of the few times Miles had run with the pack and he wondered how that particular bit of luck worked out. He is truly in awe of Malia, and he’s even more in awe that he gets to be her husband. Her tenacity and strength and intelligence has brought a new vibrance to Miles that he wasn’t sure he’d get again without the use of a shift. Miles and Malia are both trying to figure out how to balance everything. Malia put things on pause for them and their wedding and Miles wants to show her that he appreciated what she did and knew the sacrifice she made for them.

Miles has yet to tell anyone about his past, except for Kayla. Not even Malia. He knows what animal shifters and specifically the Chicago pack think of those who have gone into hypershift and he worries about how it would affect his relationship with all of them. Arthur warned him against it the last time he visited, reminded him why they didn’t do packs. Especially not judgemental ones. He’s been dragging this secret around for almost a century, and when he finally could at least somewhat talk about it with Kayla, he felt a little freer. He’s debating telling Malia now, hoping it doesn’t ruin everything they’ve worked so hard to maintain and grow.

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Alfred Enoch (Miles King) [1][2][3]

#Alfred Enoch #oc rpg #fantasy rpg #supernatural rpg #city rpg

2 notes · View notes

calumcest · 4 years

Text

i want to teach you a lesson (in the worst kind of way)

me writing 5.6k in 4 hours and pretending my essays/presentation/exams/dissertation don’t exist? it’s more likely than you think

thank u jex for listening to me scream abt this for the past 4 hours and for always being the sweetest and most encouraging person in the world you are truly such a positive influence in my life

also this is based off a prompt i got i think in 2014 never say i don’t provide! i would link the post but honestly it’s just got my 16 year old self’s embarrassing screams on it so frankly i would rather not so instead i will provide you with a screenshot of the ask under the cut

[ao3]

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window.

“The new PE teacher,” Michael says.

“He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously.

“He’s also twice your age,” Michael says. “Go on, off to your practice rooms.” The girls groan, but one by one pull themselves away from the window and start to wander off. Michael stays by the window, one eye on the girls to make sure they actually go where they’re supposed to and one eye on the new PE teacher, who’s dividing the class up into groups and handing out footballs. He is kind of hot, Michael supposes, if you’re into muscular guys who are clearly good at sports. Which Michael most definitely is.

Michael Clifford loves his job.

Sure, the staff room politics can get a bit exhausting (although Michael would be lying if he didn’t admit to loving all the drama he wasn’t personally involved in), and the kids can drive him up the fucking wall, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than teaching.

Except today. Today, when a good portion of 10C has somehow exploded into an argument over whether or not Julia snatched a guitar when Sam was about to take it, he thinks he’d rather be a human guinea pig for infectious diseases, or something. It probably pays better, anyway.

“Sam,” he says sternly, and he turns to look at Michael, anger written all over his face. “There are plenty of guitars in the cupboard. Let Julia have that one.”

“But sir, that’s the only one which-”

“I don’t care,” Michael says, holding up a hand, because he’s perfectly aware that it’s the only guitar which stays in tune longer than thirty seconds. He’s been begging for a budget increase since the day he joined the school. “It’s one lesson, it’s not an exam, you can deal with it for forty-five minutes.”

“But Mr Clifford-” Lucy pipes up, ready to defend Sam.

“No, Lucy,” he says firmly. “I want all of you in the practice rooms, now.” Sam glares at him furiously and stomps off without an instrument in his hands, Lucy and Pip running behind him to one of the practice rooms outside the main classroom. Michael decides he’s got enough on his plate without inserting himself into hormonally-charged teenage drama, so he lets them go, rounding on Noel and Olivia, who are still arguing with Julia, Brandon hovering awkwardly nearby.

“I don’t want to hear anything else about this,” Michael cuts in, and Noel and Olivia round on Michael instead.

“Sir, she stole it from-”

“He was about to pick it u-”

“I don’t want to spend my lunchtime in detention, and unless you two do I suggest you get your instruments and go to your practice rooms,” Michael says curtly, trying to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He’s getting a stress-induced headache already, and it’s the first lesson of the day.

“Fine,” Olivia spits, full of the kind of melodrama only a fifteen-year-old can summon, and Michael tries not to roll his eyes as they stalk off to one of the practice rooms at the back of the classroom without so much as another glance in his direction. He’s pretty sure he hears one of them mutter fuck you under their breath as they walk away, and he feels momentarily bad before he remembers they’ll have forgotten about it by their next lesson.

“Don’t do it again,” is all he says tiredly to Julia, who nods meekly, and scampers off to join her group in one of the other practice rooms at the back of the classroom. That being sorted, Michael turns back to the rest of the class, to find about eight of the girls gathered at the window, chattering excitedly.

“That doesn’t look like composing a short piece on three instruments to me,” he says, wandering over, and a bunch of the girls look back at him with a look of excitement on their faces.

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window and leaving a mark. Michael peers over their heads to see a distant figure standing on the field with a class that looks like it might be 7A. All he can make out is that it’s a guy, with what looks like a mess of dark brown hair and a couple of tattoos on his (very muscular, Michael notes with approval) arms that he’s waving around, clearly explaining something.

Michael vaguely remembers Paula, the headmistress, saying something about a new PE teacher starting this week, but he’d been too busy whisper-explaining to Luke why Magic: The Gathering was a great game and he should definitely play it with Michael to remember what she’d said the guy was called.

“The new PE teacher,” he says, hoping they won’t ask what he’s called.

“He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously.

Huh, he thinks, pushing himself away from the window and heading to the first practice room to make sure Noel, Olivia and Brandon have calmed down a bit. Sarah’s kind of right.

-------

Michael has a free period fourth period, and even if he usually wouldn’t be seen dead on the field, it’s a beautiful day, and it is on the route to the staff room. Well, it’s on a route to the staff room, at least, and if that route happens to be five minutes longer than simply walking through the building and over the quad, then Michael doesn’t need to know about it. He could do with the exercise, he tells himself. It’s nothing to do with the new PE teacher.

When Michael gets down to the field, the PE teacher’s gathering up the footballs from the previous lesson and stuffing them in the big netted bag that’s been threatening to break for about five years. He turns around after picking up the last one and spots Michael (who is definitely not staring) cutting across the top part of the field. He raises a hand, and Michael’s not really sure if he’s waving or telling him to get the fuck off the field, but then he’s gathering the bag in one hand and jogging over, and Michael’s absolutely not watching the lines of his muscles as he makes his way over.

“Hi!” the guy says, grinning widely, and fucking hell, he’s even hotter up close. He’s got dark brown eyes, crinkled at the corners with the brilliant smile currently gracing his full lips, and his dark hair is curled, falling into his face slightly. “I’m Calum. Calum Hood. I’m new.”

“I’m Michael Clifford,” Michael says. “I’m not.” He curses inwardly as soon as the words have left his lips - he should be legally restricted from talking to hot guys, honestly - but Calum laughs, laughs, and it’s not fake, if the twinkle in his eyes is anything to go by.

“I gathered,” he says. “So, what do you teach?”

“Music,” Michael says. “You’re PE?” Calum nods.

“Music’s my second, though,” he says.

“Oh?” Michael wants to die. Of course hot PE guy can teach Music, of all things. He was literally crafted by God to upset Michael.

“Yeah,” Calum says, with a smile. “I mean, I’m sure I’m nowhere near as good as you, but I play guitar, and a little piano. Bass is my real love, though.”

“Bass?” Michael says, trying his best not to imagine Calum’s long fingers flying across a fretboard.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “I played in a band, for a bit, but, y’know.” He gestures at himself. “Clearly didn’t work out.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool, though,” Michael says, genuinely impressed. “And hey, bassist to secondary school PE teacher is an upgrade.” Calum laughs.

“Fuck you, man,” he says, but he’s grinning, and Michael feels a warmth spreading from his toes to his cheeks. “Hey, are you heading to the staff room?” Michael nods. “Mind if I tag along? I’m still finding my way around.”

“Sure,” Michael says, shrugging and hoping it conceals the fact that he kind of wants to turn back to the safety of his music room and bang his head on the wall until he forgets someone as perfect as Calum Hood exists on the same planet as him.

“Sweet,” Calum says, beaming at him as he holds up the bag of footballs. “Let me just lock these in the shed and I’ll be right with you.”

Yeah, sweet, Michael thinks, as Calum turns on his heel and jogs away from Michael over to the tiny shed in the corner of the field which houses all the outdoor equipment. Not like Michael’s already head over heels in love, or anything.

Sweet.

-------

Calum’s officially introduced in the staff room at lunchtime on his first day, but Michael has lunch duty on a Monday so he misses it. Luke and Ashton tell him Calum’s a big hit in the staff room, “really charming, and have you seen his arms?”, which just puts Michael in a bad mood, because he now has competition.

It’s three days before Michael bumps into Calum again, in his free second period, which he’s spending catching up on all the marking that was due, like, two weeks ago and is still unfinished.

“Hey, Michael!” Calum says cheerfully, sitting down opposite Michael at the desk that he’s entirely covered with a careful class-organised system of marking. “Oh, shit, are you busy?”

“No,” Michael says immediately, because what’s his job compared to conversation with the hottest guy in Australia? “What’s up?” Calum shrugs.

“Just wanted a chat,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. You been hiding from me?” His eyes are twinkling as he says it, and it makes Michael’s stomach flip, because it’s pretty friendly for a guy he’s met once. If Michael were anyone else, he would say Calum might almost be flirting. Maybe Calum’s just like that, though. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

“Been catching up on marking,” Michael says, indicating all the papers on the desk. “I’m literally going to stop setting homework, I swear to God.”

“Can’t say I relate,” Calum says, with a grin. “Perks of being a PE teacher.”

“Yeah, but you have to deal with, like, concussions, and shit,” Michael says, capping his pen.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and all that,” Calum says breezily, and Michael snorts.

“Typical PE teacher,” he says. “I could have had my leg cut off and my PE teacher would have made me keep running.” Calum smirks.

“Well, you have another leg, don’t you?” he says, and laughs when Michael scowls. “I’m kidding. I’d let you do push ups instead.” Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“How generous,” he says. Calum grins back at him, and Michael’s heart does a fucking backwards somersault, or something ridiculous.

“That’s what you get for saying PE teacher is an upgrade from bassist,” he says.

“Hey, that’s just the natural order of things,” Michael says. “It’s not my fault bass is at the bottom of the musical food chain.”

“What’s music without the rhythm section?” Calum says, stretching, and Michael tries his best not to stare at the sliver of skin that’s exposed under his shirt.

“Acoustic?” Michael offers, and Calum huffs out a laugh, bringing his arms (and shirt, Michael thinks wistfully) back down.

“Fuck,” he says agreeably. “Guess my band could have carried on without me.”

“What kind of music did you play?” Michael asks. Calum shrugs.

“A bit of everything,” he says. “We started on All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, that kind of a thing, got more Radiohead and Tame Impala vibes as we went on.” Jesus Christ. Michael has literally died and gone to heaven, because there is absolutely no way a man this perfect exists anywhere other than in Michael’s imagination.

“Mate, I fucking love All Time Low,” Michael says, and a smile unfurls on Calum’s lips.

“Have you heard their new album?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Fuck, Monsters? What a fucking tune.”

“Right?” Calum says enthusiastically. “And Basement Noise?”

“Fucking sick,” Michael agrees.

“You’ve got good taste,” Calum says approvingly. Michael opens his mouth to say something - you’re just saying that to get in my pants is on the tip of his tongue - but he’s interrupted (or possibly saved from eternal embarrassment) by Ashton sitting down heavily next to him.

“Hey, Michael,” he says, throwing a dimpled smile in his direction. “Hey, Calum.”

“Hey, Ashton,” Calum says. “How’s the Year 10 clay project coming along?”

“Oh, you know,” Ashton says, leaning back in his seat and pushing his curls out of his face. “Two busts have been decapitated so far, so we’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

“Nice,” Michael says approvingly.

“I know you’re talking about the decapitations, Mike, you don’t fool me,” Ashton says knowingly. Michael scowls.

“Was it Sam?” he asks, needing to know who to high-five in his next lesson.

“No, Noel,” Ashton says.

“10C? Short kid, really fucking fast?” Calum asks. Michael shrugs. How is Michael supposed to know how fast he is? It’s not like Noel’s Naruto running through the music room.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because apparently Noel’s Naruto running through the art room.

“He’s really fucking good with a ball,” Calum says, and Michael bites back an awful innuendo with a lot of difficulty. Not in front of Ashton, he tells himself.

“He’s lacking a passion,” Ashton says. “He’s good at art, but he messes around too much.”

“Same with Music,” Michael says. “He’s got a temper on him, too.”

“Well, maybe I can get him to channel it into football,” Calum says seriously. “Kids need an outlet, and something they feel like they’re good at. He needs something to be proud of.”

Fuck, Michael thinks, as Ashton enthusiastically responds in kind, staring at Calum as he nods along to whatever Ashton’s saying with a thoughtful frown. He’s definitely in love.

-------

Calum and Michael fall into a bit of a routine.

They don’t share a lot of free periods together, only the fourth on Monday and second on Thursday, but Michael will wait at the corner of the field for Calum to finish clearing up after his last lesson and they’ll walk to the staff room together, sitting and chatting shit for an hour about nothing in particular.

Michael learns that Calum’s got a sister, Mali, who’s in the music industry and whom he’s incredibly proud of, and that he’s half-Kiwi, half-Scottish, and grew up in western Sydney, not too far from Michael. He learns that Calum loves dogs more than he loves either bass or football, loves his dog (Duke) more than he loves anything else on the planet, likes playing Fifa and eating ice cream, and that his biggest fear is not having an impact on the world. He learns that Calum genuinely loves teaching, that Noel’s finding his feet with football and he’s really enjoying it, and that Calum almost went professional with football.

(“Is there anything you aren’t fucking talented at?” Michael says grumpily, when Calum tells him that. Calum laughs.

“Asking cute boys out,” he says, throwing Michael a grin, and Michael’s stomach flips.)

And so he also learns that Calum’s gay, and that he’s been single his whole life.

(“Are you serious? Michael says incredulously. Calum shrugs.

“I’m not a blushing virgin, Michael,” he says, seeing the look on Michael’s face, and Michael scowls.

“I didn’t say you were,” Michael says sullenly, but he’s secretly more than a little jealous of these nameless, faceless boys that have had the honour of fucking Calum Hood.)

Of course, Michael’s not the only one in the school to notice Calum.

A majority of the girls, and a good number of the boys, sing Calum’s praises to Michael every opportunity they get. He hears them talking in the corridors when Calum breezes past, smiling at them but eyes lighting up when he brushes past Michael (which Michael tries desperately not to think about when he’s staring out of the window daydreaming in the middle of a lesson). The staff are no better, either - Brenda and Caroline have been gossiping about Calum’s muscles so loudly that Michael only half-jokingly threatened to file a sexual harassment suit against them on his behalf.

One thing that having an incredibly hot PE teacher has done wonders for, though, is school morale.

It’s the only reason Michael’s standing at the corner of a wet field on a freezing May afternoon, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf and somehow still shivering, huddled between Luke and Ashton, whom he’d bribed-slash-threatened to join him because he didn’t want to be too obvious about it.

(“Mike, I don’t think you could be less obvious about being in love with Calum if you tried,” Luke had said, rolling his eyes, but then Michael had pulled out his trump card - he’d give Luke his coveted spot in the corner of the staff room - and Luke had agreed to go.)

“I fucking hate you,” Luke mumbles into the scarf currently covering a good half of his face. “I’m so fucking cold. This is not worth it to get you laid.”

“Fuck you,” Michael says automatically, eyes on Calum. He’s shouting encouragement and tactics at the Year 12 football team - not that Michael can hear it above the cheers and boos from the rest of the school and their opposition - but he looks so fucking good, brow creased as he focuses on the game.

“Are there usually this many people at football games?” Ashton asks, looking around in wonder. “There aren’t, are there?”

“How d’you expect us to know?” Luke asks, exasperated. “We’re not usually at football games either.”

“We’re being good friends,” Ashton tells Luke, a little sternly, and Luke huffs, but doesn’t say anything else.

Their team scores, and the crowd erupts into cheers, because it’s now only two minutes until the end of the game and they’re two-one up, so it’s unlikely the result will change. Calum still looks determined, though, muttering something to Ben, the Year 12 captain, who nods and jogs back across the bitch to prepare for the kick-off.

“I hate this,” Luke whines after a minute, because that’s apparently as long as he can keep quiet without reminding everyone how miserable he is. “This is why I’m a Maths teacher.”

“Shut up,” Michael says, and then the final whistle blows and Calum’s face is finally relaxing, tension dissipating from his posture as he cheers with the rest of the crowd.

“Calum looks really good tonight,” Ashton says, sending a glance in Michael’s direction.

“Alright, fuck me, I guess,” Luke grumbles. Ashton rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he says, but he looks around furtively before snaking his arm around Luke’s waist and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Everyone knows you’re fucking,” Michael comments, still staring at Calum. “You don’t have to be sly about it.”

“No they don’t,” Luke says, leaning into Ashton’s touch.

“Yes, they do,” Michael says, and then he forgets what he was going to say next because Calum makes eye contact with him from across the pitch and gives him a huge grin, and Michael’s stomach bottoms out. “Fuck, he’s grinning at me.”

“Well, grin back, idiot,” Ashton says, so Michael does. Calum holds his gaze for a moment, and then turns back to his team, leaving Michael feeling a little unsteady.

“I’m in love,” he declares, for the nintieth time that week.

“We know,” Luke says grumpily.

-------

Michael’s halfway through marking 8A’s elements of music test when there’s a knock at the door. He looks up, expecting to see Luke or Ashton, not Calum. He looks out of place in his football kit in the music room, and Michael’s brain short-circuits as it tries to reconcile a hot man in Michael’s music room.

“Hey,” he says, sticking his head around the door. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” Michael says, because Calum could walk in on him taking a shit and wouldn’t be disturbing him. “What’s up?” Calum steps into the room, clicking the door shut behind him, and throws himself down on a seat opposite Michael’s desk.

“So,” he says. “You know All Time Low are here next weekend?” Michael nods. He’s planning on going with Luke and Ashton. “I might have got two tickets to Sunday night.”

“That’s sick,” Michael enthuses. “Who are you going with?” Calum throws Michael an odd look, somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Well, I was hoping you’d want to come?” he says. Michael blinks.

“Me?” he says.

“Yeah,” Calum says, and there’s definitely a hint of amusement in his tone now.

“I, uh.” Michael’s not really sure how to speak without saying yes, please, and please let me suck your dick while I’m at it. He swallows, hoping it’ll make the words disappear from the tip of his tongue. “I’d fucking love to.” Calum grins, looking relieved, and Michael realises that he must have been nervous . Something about that sends a thrill coursing through his veins - he’d made Calum nervous, somehow.

“Sweet,” he says happily. “Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at five.” Michael just nods, not really trusting himself to speak, and Calum pulls himself up out of the chair, throwing him one last smile before he leaves the room.

Fuck, Michael thinks, as the door swings shut behind Calum, pulling his phone out to Google how to fall out of love with a colleague.

(It doesn’t help him at all.)

-------

Next Sunday comes around faster than Michael had expected, given how much he’s been thinking about it.

Luke and Ashton had been a little incensed when he’d told them he was no longer going with them but with Calum.

(“What?” Luke had said crossly. “Michael, you already bought your ticket.”

“Yeah, but it’s a choice between third-wheeling you or one-on-one time with the love of my life,” Michael says dramatically. “What do you expect me to choose?”)

At five to five, Michael’s sat in his living room, leg jiggling nervously as he checks his phone every two milliseconds just in case he’s somehow missed a notification from Calum in the time it’s taken him to blink.

Calum, though, doesn’t even text to say he’s arrived, just rings the doorbell at five on the dot, scaring Michael shitless.

“Hi,” Calum says, smiling, when Michael opens the door. He’s wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt and straight-leg blue jeans, which should look incredibly nineties and not good at all, but somehow makes Michael want to drop to his knees right there and then. Although, he supposes, that’s what Michael wants to do regardless of what Calum is wearing, so it’s probably nothing to do with that. “You look gorgeous.” Michael has to bite his cheek to check whether he’s still alive and not, like, ascended to heaven.

“Thanks,” Michael mumbles when his mouth floods with pain and it becomes clear that yes, he is actually still alive, feeling heat rise to his cheeks from the sheer intimacy of this moment with a colleague-slash-friend-slash-soulmate-but-he-doesn’t-know-it. He’s so used to seeing Calum in the context of school that it feels strange to see him in normal clothes, standing on Michael’s doorstep.

“Are you ready, or, like, d’you want me to stand here all evening?” Calum says after a moment, and Michael steps out of the house with a scowl.

“Fuck you,” he says, trailing behind Calum as they walk to his car.

“Maybe if you’re lucky,” Calum says, and Michael chokes on his next breath. Calum, however, doesn’t seem to notice, as he’s getting into the car and starting the engine. Michael takes the opportunity to splutter for a second, re-learning how to breathe for the first time in twenty-five years, and takes a deep breath before getting in the passenger side of the car.

“What d’you reckon’s going to be on the set list?” Calum asks, reversing out of Michael’s driveway and setting off down the street. Michael hums in consideration.

“Aside from the obvious?” he says.

“No, Michael, tell me that Dear Maria’s going to be on the set list,” Calum says sarcastically. Michael scowls.

“I’d punch you if you weren’t driving,” he tells Calum, and Michael sees him grin in the dim light.

“I’ve found my shield,” Calum says, running a stop sign. Michael squawks as they swerve into the road, grabbing onto the handle on the door. Calum rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve seen how you drive.”

“Fuck off,” Michael says, scowling, but he can’t deny it. Speed is more important than safety, is his motto - mainly because he always sets off at least ten minutes late.

“So?” Calum prompts. “Set list?”

“I hope Monsters,” Michael says. “But honestly? I’d love some of the older stuff on there too.”

“Yeah, I miss Stella being on the set list,” Calum says wistfully.

“You saw them when Stella was on the set list?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, a tad smug, and okay, fuck him.

“Fuck,” Michael says, and he can’t even disguise the envy in his voice. Calum just laughs, throwing Michael a glance, and his eyes are glittering in the sunset, making Michael’s heart hurt a little bit. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Hey,” Calum says, aiming for affronted, but he’s still grinning. “Don’t antagonise the driver.”

“I can antagonise you all I want,” Michael says. “You’re not going to kill us on the way to an All Time Low gig.”

“Might kill us on the way back, though,” Calum points out.

“Yeah, well, I can probably die happy, then,” Michael says, with a shrug.

“True,” Calum agrees. “Good music, pretty boy in the passenger seat, what more could you want?”

“Exactly,” Michael says emphatically, and it takes him until Calum’s started talking about the merits of Nothing Personal as compared to Don’t Panic to realise what Calum had just said.

Michael’s in the passenger seat.

-------

The show, as expected, is amazing.

Michael’s seen All Time Low, like, five times now, and they never fail to disappoint. He voices as such to Calum on the way home, running on a high of adrenaline and having seen Calum jumping in the pit, screaming the lyrics to every single song, which had only made Michael’s whole being-in-love-with-the-hot-PE-teacher situation a little more difficult to handle.

“Right?” Calum enthuses, speeding along the almost-empty highway. “I’ve heard it so many times, but Therapy live just hits different.”

“God, I know,” Michael groans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, letting the memory flash in front of his eyes. “I actually heard the full band version live, once.”

“Yeah?” Calum asks, a tinge of envy in his voice. Michael savours the moment.

“Yeah,” he says, a touch smugly. “It was fucking sick.”

“I can imagine,” Calum says. “I told Alex that they should play it like that tonight, but-”

“Hang on,” Michael says, cutting Calum off, because he cannot be understanding this correctly. “Alex who?” Calum suddenly looks a little guilty.

“Uh,” he says.

“Alex who, Calum?”

“Gaskarth?” Calum offers after a moment, and Michael gapes at him.

“You know Alex Gaskarth?”

“Well, y’know, I used to be in a band, and we opened for All Time Low, and-”

“You opened for All Time Low?” Michael asks. Calum chews on his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m- look, I’m sorry for not telling you, okay? I got the tickets through Alex, but I thought if I told you you might just want to go for them, like, you wouldn’t get it, and-”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you know All Time Low,” Michael huffs, sinking down in his seat. Calum throws him a worried look, so Michael adds: “I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” which makes Calum smile as he turns into Michael’s road.

“Fuck you,” he says, but the concern is fading from his face as he parks on the road by Michael’s house this time. They both get out of the car, and then Michael hovers awkwardly by the little path that leads to his house.

“You’re a traitor,” he says, when Calum rounds the corner of his car and comes to stand opposite Michael. He’s lit up in the orange light of the streetlights, dark brown hair surrounded by a halo of amber, and Michael doesn’t think he’s seen a prettier sight in his life.

“I had to make sure you were coming for me,” Calum protests, a smile playing at his lips. Michael blinks at him.

“What do you mean?” he says, nonplussed.

“Well, y’know,” Calum says, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” Michael says. Calum looks at him oddly.

“Wait,” he says. “You...you know this was a date, right?” Michael gapes at him.

“Are you- wait, what?” Calum’s face falls, and he takes a step back, and no, no, no, that’s not what Michael wants. “Wait, no, I-”

“Fuck,” Calum says, laughing uncomfortably as he cards a hand through his hair. “I probably should have made it clearer, huh? I did say I was bad at asking out cute boys.”

“Me?” Michael’s voice is a good three octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m cute?” Calum smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Michael, I’ve been flirting with you since, like, the minute I saw you,” he says.

“You have?”

“Jesus Christ,” Calum mutters, and then seems to pull himself together. “Look, I’m sorry if I, like, overstepped, made things uncomfortable, whatever. I’m happy to keep it professional, and-” he cuts himself off when Michael laughs. “What?” he says, and it comes out snappy.

“Are you serious?” Michael says, and he’s grinning now, so much he thinks he probably looks a little creepy.

“You’re kind of being a dickhead, now, you know that?” Calum says, a little sharply.

“No, Calum, I- fucking hell,” Michael says, and a bubble of manic laughter escapes from him. “I’ve been kind of in love with you since, like, before we met.” Calum looks at him for a moment, expression unreadable

“Before we met?” Calum asks carefully.

“Yeah,” Michael says, nodding. “10C pointed you out, in first period, and I kind of stared at you for half the lesson.” Calum says nothing for a moment, just keeps looking at Michael, and it’s starting to get a little unnerving, when-

“Oh,” Calum says, and a small smile is creeping onto his face. “You- wait, so, like, I didn’t misread it? You do like me?”

“I mean, I did just say I was kind of in love with you, but sure, I like you," Michael says, and Calum grins, lit up by the streetlights and his happiness, and Michael thinks he’s found space in his heart that he didn’t even know he had since meeting Calum.

“So,” Calum says. “This was a date?”

“This was definitely a date,” Michael agrees, feeling his stomach flip pleasantly at the words.

“Would it be cliché to kiss you goodnight?” Calum asks, and Michael grins.

“Definitely,” he says, “but I’ll kill you if you don’t.” Calum grins back, and takes two steps forward to close the space between them, bringing a hand to Michael’s jaw and pressing his lips to Michael’s gently. It’s chaste, sweet, slow, languid, and Calum kisses like Michael’s the only thing that matters in the world. He smells like mint and pine and vanilla, pressed close to Michael’s chest, slipping an arm around Michael’s waist, and Michael groans into the kiss as he thinks about Calum’s long fingers splayed across the small of his back.

“Too much?” Calum asks, breaking away, and Michael shakes his head, pressing his forehead against Calum’s shoulder.

“Not enough,” he says, because he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get enough of Calum Hood. Calum pulls him in for a proper hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, and Michael’s glad Calum’s got strong arms because he feels like his knees are about to give in.

“Do you want to come in?” he mumbles against Calum’s shoulder.

“Is that a proposition?” Calum says, smile evident in his voice.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Maybe.” Michael swallows. Jesus Christ.

“Then it is.” Calum pulls back and looks at Michael, suddenly serious.

“Hey,” he says. “This isn’t- this isn’t just sex for me. I really like you, Michael. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I want something more with you.” Michael grins.

“Have I got to repeat the whole ‘kind of in love with you’ thing again?” he says, and Calum grins back.

“Alright,” he says, and Michael hears his car squeaking to indicate it’s locked. “You’re making the excuses when we turn up to school tomorrow, though.”

-------

A few students give them strange looks when they get out of Michael’s car in the morning.

“Is this seriously the sportiest thing you own?” Calum grumbles for the fiftieth time, picking at the green hoodie and black jogging bottoms that Michael had chucked at him that morning.

“Quit complaining,” Michael says, locking the car behind them and starting across the car park to the school. “Green’s your colour.”

“Oh, that’s why you picked it,” Calum says, jogging a little to catch up with Michael.

“Yeah,” Michael says with a grin, unashamed. Calum shakes his head, but he’s grinning too.

“I’d kiss you right now if I could,” he says, as they turn into the building.

“What’s stopping you?” Michael asks, as they make their way up the stairs to the staff room.

“Uh, code of conduct? The contract I signed when I joined the school?” Michael rolls his eyes as he pushes open the door to the staff room.

“Morning!” he chirps, heading straight for the desk Luke and Ashton are already sat at, Calum in his wake.

“Morning!” a few people in the room chorus over the general buzz of post-weekend chatter.

“Hey,” Luke says loudly, frowning. “Why’s Calum wearing your clothes?”

The room goes still, and Michael just grins.

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos slash #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #bro the way i can just knock out 5.6k of fic in 4 hours but spend 3 hours reading a singular academic article #do i have a brain? debatable

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